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tonicandjins · 2 years

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right where you left me

characters: wonwoo & reader word count: 8.9k genre: exes to lovers summary: in which wonwoo leaves and takes your heart with him. three years later, you're in another city, but tragically, right where he left you. warnings: alcohol consumption, detailed smut.

please help me see seventeen on december!

***

Seoul’s stale and dusty air reminds you exactly why you don’t like visiting the capital city often despite its vibrance and the colors built upon its land. As someone who likes to have their own space once in a while, the city is not for you, with its busy streets and lights that never seem to dim even a little. Seoul, at least for you, is a place to visit when you’re looking for some excitement, some diversity, some stories to tell your workmates—but definitely not a place to reside in full time.

But here you are, two days after moving, trying to get used to its noise and its beauty at the same time. If it hadn’t been for your job requiring you to move around multiple times a year, you wouldn’t be here. Albeit grateful, part of you wishes it could have been some other place closer to where you were raised.

Growing up in Changwon, your slightly tanned skin had been used to the coastal area’s cool, salty air. Also, it’s 40 minutes away from Busan—where your best friend Jihoon lives (which means to reach your best friend is a 40-minute drive). And this is also one of the reasons why you didn’t want to move to Seoul unless Jihoon tags along with you (which he, unfortunately, did not because he “can’t just pack up his entire life so that you’re not lonely in Seoul”).

“Is it that bad?” Jihoon’s voice echoes from the speaker of your phone as you put away your groceries.

“Yes,” you huff, remembering how someone bumped into you as soon as you stepped out of the subway, making you drop one of your grocery bags. The person did not even bother to look back. “Jihoon, I want to go home.”

“How old are you again?” your best friend teases. Even from miles away, you could make up his face as he speaks with you. “You’ll be fine. Remember that your boss had said it’s a temporary relocation. Once you’re done with whatever you have to complete in Seoul, then you can come back home.”

“I doubt,” you answer as you finish organizing the last few containers. “Launching this project in Changwon took them 2 years to fully establish. It’s Seoul, I know many things are more accessible here; for sure we’ll have more chances of finding competent potentials here to kickoff the project with me. But still, I don’t think I can do this in six months; one year at the least, maybe, if I work hard enough.”

Jihoon hums, agreeing, then proceeds to ask when the rest of your team would arrive. You briefly explain their itinerary and tell him that you’re also in collaboration with HR to ensure that enough manpower will be available by next week. You ask about the project that Jihoon is also working on; he tells you he will most likely visit Seoul, too, and it excites you until he reminds you of what you’ve been trying to avoid since you arrived.

“Wonwoo lives in Seoul. At least you have someone you know,” he says, voice reluctant. “I mean, that is if you need help settling. I know you don’t have a lot of relatives up there, but you know, just in case you need someone to remind you of home.”

You laugh at the last statement. Jihoon sighs, knowing how stupid he sounded just now.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s not like I stopped being in contact with him after, you know, and it would be nice.”

“What would be nice?”

“You know, to catch up and all,” he answers, yawning. You look at the time, nine in the morning, Jihoon probably hasn’t had a wink of sleep.

You stay silent, sitting on the stool from your kitchen island, looking at your phone as if you’re waiting for him to say something more.

“It would be nice,” he repeats. “You were friends for a long time before you dated. It would be nice to have someone in the lonely city.”

You hum, still not willing to say anything. Jihoon knows that you never like talking about this, about Wonwoo.

“I mean, it has been how long?” Three years. “Two? Three years now, right? I’m sure Wonwoo’s moved on. I’m sure you have, too. Right?”

Being friends all throughout high school, dating as soon as you go into college, Wonwoo leaving as soon as the three of you graduated, you and him not being able to handle the distance—of course. Of course. You should have been able to move on at this point. Three years should be long enough for someone to move on. Three years should have allowed you to see someone else, to get rid of your feelings from the starry-eyed boy whose dreams are as vivid as yours.

Jihoon calls your name. “You there?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m here.”

You’re here, in Seoul, miles away from Changwon, but here also means right where Wonwoo left you.

***

Kwon Soonyoung is a long-distance friend of Jihoon, which by default makes you a friend of his, too. He and Jihoon used to live next to each other when the latter temporarily moved to Seoul to be trained for his current job. Soonyoung is vibrant and loud like the city, but kind and warm like home. He helps you familiarize yourself with the city and gives you a list of places to visit nearby where your live and work. He shows you which subway or bus stop to go to certain places and helps you settle in further.

A month into living in Seoul, you’re finally getting used to it. The rush still bothers you sometimes, but it’s better now, thanks to Soonyoung.

“Do you like this place?” he asks, mouth full as he chews on the grilled beef you had just served for him.

You nod, taking a piece of meat into your mouth.

“I’m glad,” he says. “This is me and my best friend’s favorite place. We come here every weekend to drink. He doesn’t really drink, but he eats a lot and takes me home to make sure I don’t die. Jihoon knows him, too, apparently. Small world, if you ask me. Wonwoo used to go to the same college as Jihoon.”

You almost choke. Soonyoung quickly hands you a glass of water and asks if you’re okay.

Small world, my ass. The universe should might as well just punch you in the gut.

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out. “Jeon Wonwoo.”

“Yes,” Soonyoung exclaims. “You know him, too? That’s—wait, that actually makes sense. You and Jihoon have been best friends since birth. Of course, you know Wonwoo.”

“Soonyoung,” you say, catching your breath after chugging the glass of water. “We have been hanging out for two, three weeks now. Why haven’t you ever mentioned Jeon Wonwoo?”

What difference would have it done? You would have avoided Soonyoung at all costs, wouldn’t have bothered to befriend this bright, kind man across you. Then, that would minimize the chances of ever seeing Jeon Wonwoo in Seoul until you have to go back home.

Soonyoung shrugs. “He’s been busy. But he should be free next weekend, so we can meet up here then—“

“No,” you cut him off and visibly, you could see how Soonyoung’s mouth form into a pout. “No, Soonyoung. Sorry.”

“Why?” He asks. “Wonwoo is not that bad. He’s a little cold, but he’s not that bad. You should know if you had known him back in Changwon. I mean, Jihoon is the coldest person in the universe, so Wonwoo is not half bad.”

“It’s not like that, Soonyoung,” you sigh, picking up a piece of radish and shoving it in your mouth.

The man across you is puzzled for a minute, chewing on another piece of meat with his eyebrows furrowed.

Soonyoung suddenly gasps when it dawns to him. “Oh my God.”

“Shut up.” He knows.

“You’re the ex,” he exclaims. “Holy shit!”

“Shut up, Soonyoung.”

“You are!” He repeats. “You’re the ex that got him so fucked up on his first year here in Seoul!”

“That’s rude,” you remark.

“Sorry,” he says. “Oh, I am so going to call Jihoon later. This should be fun.”

***

What are the odds of meeting Jeon Wonwoo for the first time in three years?

More than half month ago, back in Changwon, chances were nearly zero. Wonwoo completely moved to Seoul and never bothered to return since he left. His father and brother had already moved to Seoul, too; Wonwoo never really had a reason to go back.

Weeks ago, chances were little to likely. You are in Seoul. It is a big city, but bumping into him wasn’t completely impossible.

Two weeks ago, chances were most likely. After learning that Soonyoung had been friends with him for three years, it’s definitely a possibility to see him one of these days.

But here, in a small cafe at the corner of the street leading the way to your workplace, you would think that it’s less likely. There are thousands of cafes across Seoul, a wide variety of themes scattered along the busy streets, and it’s not very likely for you to meet Jeon Wonwoo in this place.

Yet here he is. Right in front of you. Sitting right across you as if it’s the easiest thing to do.

“So, uhh,” he starts, clearing his throat and setting his clasped hands on top of the table between you. “Seoul. How is it?”

You shrug, looking anywhere but him. “It’s alright. Too noisy—“

“I figured,” he interrupts but apologizes right away. “I mean. It’s different. From home. So, I figured it would be too noisy for you.”

Jeon Wonwoo is different, and it’s not like you expected him to remain the same after all these years, because you, too, are an entirely different person now. His hair is fixed, cut clean and pushed back from his forehead so that it doesn’t cover his eyes. Eyeglasses are nowhere to be found; you reckon he’s wearing transparent contacts to help with his sight. He’s wearing a suit and a tie, something you seldom saw back in Changwon, and he’s more confident now. He doesn’t look away when he talks. He doesn’t look like the Wonwoo you had known.

The Wonwoo you had known never would have approached you as soon as you stepped in the cafe. The Wonwoo you had known would have pretended he never saw you and ran away. The Wonwoo you had known would have shot a text to Jihoon to let him know that he saw you, so that you would initiate a conversation with him next time because you knew that he was too shy to say hi first.

In the end, you don’t really know a Jeon Wonwoo at present. He doesn’t know you at the same time.

“Jihoon said the same thing,” he continues, filling the awkward air with words you could barely absorb because you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he really is sitting right across you. “When he moved here for a while. I also thought of the same thing during my first few months here.”

You hum. The barista calls both your names just in time before another wave of awkward silence could take over you.

Wonwoo abruptly stands and tells you he’ll take both your orders. You let him. Your legs probably do no have enough strength to stand on its own at this time.

He comes back with both your orders combined in one tray. You’re glad you didn’t get anything to eat, otherwise you might have to vomit your insides out with how much your stomach is shaking.

“You sure you don’t want to eat anything?” He asks as he sets your drink in front of you. “The strawberry shortcake here is nice. Even the tiramisu is to die for.”

You shake your head. “I should get going,” you answer instead. “I just dropped by for some coffee. I need to go back to work.”

Wonwoo nods as he sips into his drink. “You work right down the street, right? I texted Jihoon while ordering, I hope you don’t mind. I asked him where you worked. I should have just asked you.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “But I should really go.”

Wonwoo pulls out his phone and slides it in front of you. The screen tells you he’s asking for your number.

“Please allow me to take you out for lunch,” he asks. “Let’s catch up.”

If your heart was galloping two minutes ago, at this point it’s in a fucking drag race. It’s not a good feeling and you do not trust yourself enough for things like this.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh. “I don’t think we should.”

“Why not?” He asks. “It’ll be alright. Besides, I’ve been meaning to ask Jihoon for your number anyway, ever since he told me you had moved here. I can help you fi—“

“Wonwoo, please,” you reply. Wonwoo stops. And this is the only time you actually look at his eyes.

His eyes soften when he notices the way your face winces in distress. Worry clouds the windows to his soul, and this lets you know that this Wonwoo may not entirely different from the Wonwoo you had known.

“Please,” you say again. “I’m not even sure why I agreed to sit across you, let alone give you my number and let you in again.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“You left, remember?” you reply. Wonwoo doesn’t answer. “You left. I could have waited for you, or uprooted my entire life so I could follow you here if you had a little more patience. A little more understanding.”

You have no idea where this burst of emotions are suddenly coming from, but it’s here now and you are not going to contain it.

“I don’t think I can be friends with you again, Wonwoo,” you continue. “It’s—it’s not right. It’s not good. For me. It’s not good for me, and I don’t think I am ready to reconnect with you in any form. I’m sorry, Wonwoo.”

“No,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

You nod and take your cup of coffee, bowing your head a little. “I’ll see you around.”

Wonwoo watches you leave.

***

You don’t drink a lot, and it reminds you why you, Jihoon, and Wonwoo were closer to one another compared to the rest of your friendship group back in college. The three of you were, by default, the ones responsible to take everyone home safely.

It was a routine back in college. So long as nobody has to attend some kind of practice on the weekend (swimming, football, debate club, theater – name it), everyone from your group would meet up at the same place at seven every Friday night. You, Wonwoo, and Jihoon knew everyone’s dormitories and were always in a conquest to ensure everyone would have hangover soup and aspirin ready by the time they wake up in the morning.

The flashes of memories make you smile as you down on another shot of alcohol, and man, do you wish Jihoon could keep you company. Both of you would have been so shitfaced by the third shot, careless and honest strings of words thrown at each other. As soon as alcohol has reached your system, you and him become emotional turmoils. You and him, despite being fully grown adults, are still terrible drinkers.

And you wonder if Wonwoo had learned how to handle his alcohol tolerance better.

The drink is hot when it slides down your throat, but you like it better than the feeling in your chest.

Jeon Wonwoo is the greatest love of your life.

It had always felt like he was a gift from the sky, like a star who fell comfortably on your hands, sharing his light and warmth whenever he was close. The star himself winked his vibrance amidst the void surrounding you – just in time when you were going through growing pains.

High school wasn’t the best time of your life, unlike any other person you may ask. It was when you were still trying to get to know yourself better while juggling school and family matters. Jeon Wonwoo had sat at the back of the class, as though he’s the furthest star from the sky, but his light extended far enough for you to see him.

Wonwoo has always been handsome, even when he had gained some weight on his cheeks in sophomore year and when he decided to get a K-Idol type of haircut that didn’t quite suit him. He was quiet and timid, wouldn’t talk to you unless you approach him first, but was subtly funny when he starts becoming comfortable. Wonwoo and Jihoon’s similarities made them friends, and you had to start competing against Wonwoo for the title of Jihoon’s best friend as soon as you noticed how much Jihoon adores the boy.

The three of you were inseparable. But it was always different with Wonwoo.

Jihoon wrote you a letter when your 15-year old dog passed away, and it was the most beautiful string of words you had read your entire life. Wonwoo couldn’t express himself well, but he slept over for two weeks and held your hand every day during that difficult time of your life.

Which is why the lines were never blurred with Jihoon, but with Wonwoo, it was always grey.

Jeon Wonwoo kissed you under the stars on the night of your graduation day – hands shaking, lips soft, eyes twinkling – and told you he had decided to go to the same college as you and Jihoon.

Wonwoo had just gotten a car from his father on the first day of college, and he made it a point to drive you to and from the state university. He had asked you to be his girlfriend before you got off from his car on the first day of freshmen year.

When you, him, and Jihoon had found part-time jobs to get you through dorm rent and daily needs, it had saved countless of core memories in your head. Those were difficult times, but it never felt that way when you had those two boys by your side.

Eventually, you and Wonwoo moved in together to save some money for rent. You and him fell into daily routines and in love with each other even more. Wonwoo became family, eventually, and you to his, and for a period of time, all was well. Better than well, most of the time.

That is until Wonwoo had to leave right after graduation and you couldn’t because you had so many things going for you in Changwon. There were opportunities for you and him, but in different places, and it would have been unfortunate if either of you turned these chance. Wonwoo had asked if you wouldn’t consider moving with him. Seoul is a big city, after all, there were jobs available for you. But as much as Wonwoo was a dreamer, you were, too. You had dreams of your own, and those dreams aren’t in Seoul.

Hence, Wonwoo had left and you had stayed. You were ready to let him go if it means he would fly and be successful. There were hushed promises the last time you made love in your shared apartment, words of comfort that things would be fine, that you and him will eventually find your way back to each other once you figure things out. No concrete plan, but promises nonetheless.

Promises that were, eventually, thrown into oblivion.

Inevitably, you and him became occupied at work – too much that sometimes both of you forget to call. On the weekends, during Wonwoo’s first few months in Seoul, you would take a train to visit him and spend your days off from work together. For a while, it worked. The routine of not talking at all from Mondays to Fridays and catching up on the weekends with you taking a train to Seoul worked. That is until you noticed Wonwoo never bothered to come see you at home.

To your surprise, his father and younger brother had moved to Seoul when he found a place for them to stay nearby. Bohyuk, his brother, was getting ready for college, and Wonwoo decided it would be best for him to study in the city and have his father move, too.

“Not right now,” Wonwoo had answered as soon as he picked up the call. But you weren’t having it.

“Don’t hang up,” you had warned while knowing well that he was in the middle of work. “Bohyuk dropped by to say goodbye. You never bothered to tell me you’ve decided to have them move to Seoul.”

“Y/N,” Wonwoo warned in the same tone. “I’m at work. Let’s talk about this when you come here on the weekend.”

“I am not going there on the weekend, Wonwoo,” you firmly replied. “Why don’t you ever come home?”

Wonwoo had stayed silent on the other line.

“You like Seoul that much, huh?” You taunted. Wonwoo huffed on the other line and you knew him well enough to understand that he’s just as angry as you. “You’ve never bothered to come home. I’ve always travelled miles and miles for you, spending my days off on trains and not being able to sleep well at night because it’s not my bed. Every fucking weekend since you moved to the city.”

“What are you trying to say?” Wonwoo asked.

You sighed, palm on your forehead as you tried to think about where you and him went wrong. “Wonwoo, why do you never come home?”

Wonwoo never held back, didn’t take a second to even think about his answer. “I don’t have a reason to visit Changwon. It’s not home for me.”

That was the last straw for you.

It may be the vodka that’s keeping you from remembering, but you’ve forgotten what you had said after that. All you remember is how you were fuming mad and had taken an empty box to gather all of Wonwoo’s things and to send it to his address in Seoul. It was only then that you had realized Wonwoo had really left. He had taken all of his belongings when he left to Seoul, and you realized he didn’t bother leaving any clothes or any pair of shoes when he took the flight to Incheon to reach Seoul. It was only then that you had realized Wonwoo never inteded to go back. He took all of what’s his and had left you.

And it may be, again, the vodka that’s talking but you understand now why you dislike Seoul so much.

It’s because you never understood why Wonwoo had easily left you for a city so bright and so loud, and you were jealous of that. You were envious of a city and you wonder why Changwon was never enough for him to even visit. Why you were never enough for him to call you home.

Wonwoo, indeed, was a star that fell out of the sky.

The universe never told you that you had to return him back to the sky eventually. It was the most painful thing you had to do, but you did it, anyway.

***

It turns out that saying that you don’t want to reconnect with Wonwoo is better said than done.

Soonyoung is determined to see you and Wonwoo in the same room, same space, same air – that’s why you are here, again, in the same barbecue place that Soonyoung took you weeks ago.

It’s Saturday, and Soonyoung picked you up from your apartment to have some grilled meat, yours and his favorite. And you should have known, truly, with the smug look on his face and overly huge grin on his mouth, that Wonwoo had been waiting for you and Soonyoung at the said place.

Wonwoo and Soonyoung talk animatedly about work and how the week went by so slow with the load of work they had to finish. The two apparently met at work and have been friends since then.

You stay silent for the most part, reason truly being to tired from work. You tell them you had been working ten to eleven hours a day since Monday because of the preparation for the program’s launch. Soonyoung points out that all you’ve been eating for the entire week are noodles and soda.

“That’s not healthy,” Wonwoo comments.

“I know,” you sigh. “But I don’t really have that much time to make something for breakfast. And I would be too tired in the evening to even wait for food delivery so I just settle on what I have.”

The conversation falls into place, awkwardness from the first few minutes gone, thanks to a tipsy Soonyoung clearing the air for everyone. And just like this, you and Wonwoo fell into another routine, as if those years of nothingness between you and him never existed.

***

Jihoon is surprised when he sees you and Wonwoo pick him up from the airport.

You had filled him in, of course, with the situation and how much you hate it, but still, your best friend couldn’t hide how happy (maybe?) he was to see you and Wonwoo together (not really). You decided to let Jihoon stay in your apartment for the entire two weeks that he needed to be here for business. One thing common about you and him, he could never sleep well on a hotel’s bed.

Wonwoo tags along, of course, and it’s the first time he sees where you live. You see him briefly stare at the pictures you had displayed in your small living room (many, many photographs of you and Jihoon, your family, some friends, and your pets who were left at home). He takes a second to study each, and you wonder if he’d been expecting to see his face on the photographs.

“Thanks, Wonwoo, for driving us here,” Jihoon says. “Y/N, I told you it would be more convenient if you get a driver’s license and buy a car. Especially here in Seoul. How are you commuting every damn day?”

You shrug as you start to unpack Jihoon’s carry on. “The company pays for my transportation. Also, driving, me? Can you really picture that?”

Both Wonwoo and Jihoon laugh.

“Some things never change,” Wonwoo mumbles.

You never learned how to drive because Wonwoo always drove you to places when you were younger. You were too uncoordinated to learn it on your own, and now you feel like you’re too old to take driving courses.

Wonwoo helps Jihoon settle in on the spare bedroom you had prepared for him. You can’t help but kiss Jihoon on the cheek when you the dried fish he had packed just for you.

“There is dried fish from the supermarket nearby,” Wonwoo comments as he watches you place the delicacies on the cupboard. “They’re good, too.”

You shake your head, still smiling, “Nothing will ever taste like home.”

Jihoon agrees from his bedroom.

The three of you decide to have dinner across the apartment complex. Soonyoung joins you within half an hour, which is why as soon as you finish your meal, alcohol is served on the table.

“You’re a fucking alcoholic,” you joke. Soonyoung pouts and says it’s the best time to drink because Jihoon is here. This is, as he says, a rare occurrence in the universe.

Eventually, Soonyoung was able to pursuade the three of you to drink, but he was already too tipsy himself to realize that you and Wonwoo had stopped taking shots on your second ones. Jihoon, however, seems to be having fun drinking with Soonyoung.

When the clock hits 12, Soonyoung’s roommate arrives to pick him up. The man introduces himself as Jun.

Jun is handsome, and he shakes his head when you offer him a drink. Soonyoung begins to tease you and tells everyone that he’s never seen you so red before. You tell them it’s the alcohol, but even Jihoon wasn’t buying it. Flirting wasn’t really your forte, and maybe it was those two shots of soju that helped you speak confidently with Jun the entire 20 minutes he sat on your table.

“Sorry,” you say as you and Jun haul Soonyoung to the car.

“It’s fine,” the man answers and settles his friend on the back seat. “I wonder why Soonyoung never introduced you.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you reply. “I’ll see you around. Thanks for picking him up.”

Jun nods, smiling, and takes a device from his back pocket. “Here,” he says softly. “Put your number.”

Your breath is caught when you realize what’s going on, and unconsciously, for a reason unknown to you, you look back at the restaurant where Wonwoo is seated right the wall made in glass.

He is looking right back at you as this is happening.

Jun is quick-witted. He realizes what’s going on and chuckles.

“Oh,” he mutters, about to pull his phone back but you stop him, pulling your eyes away from Wonwoo.

Jun is surprised when you punch your number in and give yourself a missed call.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“Nothing’s going on between me and Wonwoo,” you answer confidently.

Jun laughs, and you blush. “I’ll just say I believe you, okay? Now, give me a hug so he can throw more daggers at me. He’s been slaughtering me with his eyes since you and I started talking back there.”

You’re taken aback when Jun suddenly pulls you in, your face buried in his fruity scent and you laugh when he makes an effort to make it look real. He bids goodbye and you watch his car leave before returning to Wonwoo and a very sleepy Jihoon.

“Took you a while,” Wonwoo mumbles and helps Jihoon to stand. “Saying goodbye really takes that long?”

You shrug and walk to the other side of Jihoon, helping him walk as well. “He’s nice.”

“Nice enough to give your number immediately?” he mutters, making you chuckle at the new behavior.

“Yes, of course,” you answer sarcastically. “Soonyoung has mentioned him before. I’ve been looking forward to meeting him.”

The three of you walk (Jihoon, very drunkenly) across the street. Wonwoo punches the button to your apartment’s floor and you’re impressed at how easily he remembered it despite being here the first time.

Wonwoo complains about how buff Jihoon had gotten and how heavy he is when he comes back to the living room after closing the door behind your best friend’s room. He catches you making tea, and you don’t even remember grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Tea?” You offer. Wonwoo hums and takes one mug from the counter. He comfortably takes a seat on the couch, taking a look around while waiting for the tea to cool a little. You don’t hesitate to take a seat beside him.

“Nice place,” he comments.

“Isn’t that compliment a little too late?” you joke, blowing air to your tea and deciding to set it down the table beside Wonwoo’s because it’s still too hot.

“We were busy unpacking Jihoon’s things,” he answers. “I didn’t get a good look.”

“Thanks,” you say anyway. “Nothing like home but, you know, it’s nice.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “You like comparing everything to what it is at home. If you keep doing that, you’re never going to truly like Seoul. Changwon and Seoul are two different places.”

“I have no plans of liking Seoul,” you answer. “I’m here for work. Once I’m done, I’m going back home.”

Wonwoo nods. He looks at you and finally, you look back at him. Wonwoo had his hair down today, unlike all the other days you’ve seen him. He’s wearing his glasses and it reminds you a lot of what he used to look like when you were in college. He’s wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. And you would be lying if you say you’re not attracted to him right now.

He has always been handsome, and though you like when he wears suit and tie, nothing will ever compare to how attractive he looks right now, to how much he looks like the Wonwoo you had known right now.

Wonwoo licks his lips when your eyes meet his, and the sparks light up like a switch, then seconds later he’s kissing you.

Wonwoo’s lips are as soft as you could remember despite how roughly he’s holding you as he kisses the air out of your lungs. His hands are on your jaw, keeping your face still and he dives in, his tongue licking your lips and asking you to open up. You cave in so, so, so easily when his hands travel to your arms and to your legs and when he pulls you so that you’re sitting on top of him.

Wonwoo licks and bites and sucks your lips and your tongue, and the heat between your legs makes you moan. The sound you make invites Wonwoo to touch the skin in your hips, your shirt lifted a little, and suddenly he’s pulling the material over your head.

He is hard when you move closer and sit right on top of his crotch, and he makes the same sinful sound when you grind yourself on his boner. The strap of your bra begins to fall from your arms and this encourages Wonwoo’s lips to leave yours and mark up your shoulders and chest. You throw your head back when Wonwoo pulls one of cups of your bra down and starts kissing your breasts. He nips and sucks where you want it the most and uses his other hand to massage the other.

“Wonwoo,” you moan. “Room.”

Wonwoo doesn’t need a second. He uses his strength to stand and carry you while your legs are wrapped around his waist, teas forgotten and cold. He locks your room, gently places you on bed and pulls his shirt off his body before climbing on top of you again.

“Can I take these off?” He asks. You don’t know which piece of clothing he’s asking but you nod anyway.

Wonwoo unclasps the last piece of clothing that’s covering your chest and continuest to dive in, mouth finding your nipple, sucking, nipping, biting, kissing. And it’s hot and your heart somersaults with how familiar this feels. With how much Wonwoo remembers when it comes to your body. You feel your wetness pool even more between your legs when you realize Wonwoo has been kissing you on the right places, sucking when you need it the most, biting where you want it the most

“Wonwoo,” you moan when he finishes sucking both your breasts and moves down to kiss your stomach. “Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He asks. You involuntarily moan at the nickname and how low and attractive his voice sounds, and how much you remember that he likes words being used when fucking. “Tell me what you want.”

“I need you,” you answer. Wonwoo chuckles, kissing your stomach.

“You need me now?” he taunts. “You seem to like Jun.”

You shake your head, reaching so you could pull him back to your lips. You kiss Wonwoo, palms touching his neck and shoulders. (Wonwoo had started working out, you realize.)

“I’ve only ever liked you,” you say in between kissing him. “Please. I need you.”

“Don’t be in love with someone else,” Wonwoo whispers and you nod. He kisses you one more time before going back down in between your legs.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he commands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Your hands and mouth,” you answer. Wonwoo shakes his head. You sigh, closing your eyes and know exactly what he wants to hear. “Please eat me out, Wonwoo. Please use your tongue and your fingers.”

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate. “Can I take these off?” You nod. He pulls your pants alongside your panties down.

You bite your lip when Wonwoo breathes out as soon as he sees you on full display. Unconsciously, you start to cover your breasts and close your thighs, but Wonwoo stops you and tells you he wants to see you first. Wonwoo takes his time looking at you, admiring your skin and the wetness between your legs.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he whispers and dives in.

Wonwoo knows how to use his tongue well. There were a lot of things you’ve already forgotten about your dynamics, but if you could recall one thing perfectly, it’s how amazing he treated you in bed. He takes his time making small, soft licks on your folds, tongue glazing on your clit, making you squirm and moan. Wonwoo holds you down when you start to move and close your legs on his head.

“I’ve missed this,” Wonwoo mutters as he sucks and kisses your cunt. You’re a moaning mess and even worse when you see him looking right at you as he licks your wetness. “I’ve missed you,” he says, eyes locked to yours, tongue slowly licking up, showing you exactly how wet you are for him through his tongue. He climbs back and kisses you, letting you taste yourself.

Wonwoo takes this moment to slide to fingers in while you’re making out. His mouth swallows your moans when he fingers you fast, your cunt making a scandalous schluck, schluck, schluck sound as his fingers pound you hard and fast. You’re about to cum when Wonwoo stops.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks and that’s when it hits you.

“Fuck, I don’t,” you answer. Wonwoo nods and says it’s okay. He lays on his side beside and starts to slide his fingers again.

“I’ll make you cum like this,” he assures but you shake your head.

“I’m clean,” you say suddenly. Wonwoo takes the message. “I’ve never had sex with anybody after you.”

“Me neither,” he answers and you’re already gone.

“Pull out,” you remind him. “I’m not ovulating so we should be good.”

Wonwoo agrees and removes his pants. His erection springs and it’s huge and red and you sit up to touch him but Wonwoo stops you.

“I might cum as soon as you touch me,” he says. “Next time.”

Next time. Next time. Next time.

You nod and lie back down on your pillows, legs open for Wonwoo, all wet and ready for him. Wonwoo settles between you, one hand on the bed steadying himself and the other holding his hardness. He massages his tip nice and slow with your clit and it takes everything in you not to take matters into your hands and ride the fuck out of him. You let Wonwoo take his time when he slides into you slowly.

He’s as big as you remember, but he prepared you well (and wet) enough for your cunt to swallow his cock gracefully. Wonwoo is a mess when you look at him. His face is read and contorted into a look of pleasure when he feels how warm you are inside.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re still just as warm.”

He begins to slide in and out, a steady pace, and kisses you all over your face, asking if you feel good. You nod and let out a moan when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

“You feel exactly the same since the last time.” Since you left. “And I love you,” Wonwoo says. “I love you.”

He says it over and over again. He says it when he pulls out for a second, bringing your legs up on his shoulders and fucking you deeply on your bed. He says it when he spreads your legs again, diving back to your lips, and tells you he’s about to cum. He says it over and over again when he makes you cum first, fingers making circles on your clit as he swallows the noises you make when you reach your orgasm. And he says it when he continues fucking you until he has to pull out and cum on your stomach.

You say it back when Wonwoo carries you to the toilet because he knows you need to pee after sex. You say it again when he cleans you up with the shower head and a towel. You say it again when he carries you back to bed and pulls the covers over your body, kissing you on the lips and on the forehead. You say it again when he’s asleep and you’re staring at the digital clock on your bedside table, Wonwoo hugging you from behind, his naked chest keeping you warm.

Just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, you look at the time again. 1:56 am, it says, and you wonder if it’s going to hurt if it doesn’t work out with Wonwoo for the second time.

Your back aches a little, a small groan leaving your lips when you adjust your torso so that it's more comfortable. Wonwoo remembers it like the back of his hand and helps you adjust yourself so that your back is not as stiff. He mumbles a soft I love you, and you hum when his thumb makes small circles on the skin of your stomach.

The last thing in your mind before completely passing out is the answer: yes. It’s going to hurt.

A routine is made after that night.

Wonwoo had woken up long before you, but he stayed on the same position as you slept. The only difference was that he had his phone in his hands as you slept soundly. He had kissed you as soon as he realized you were awake like it’s the most normal thing to do. He had dressed up and said he’ll pick you and Jihoon up for dinner and that he had to leave because he had to do his laundry before Monday arrives.

Indeed, Wonwoo had picked you up that same evening. When he held your hand and kissed you in the car, Jihoon didn’t say anything. After that dinner, Wonwoo stayed the night again (and this time, you and him had to be more quiet because Jihoon was awake and sober in the other room).

The routine goes like this: Wonwoo picks you up from work every day because he clocks out at the same time and eats dinner with you or with you and Jihoon if the latter is not busy. Sometimes he would take you out for dinner, other times he asks you to cook for him at your apartment. He does home and only stays the night if it’s the weekend. When Jihoon leaves Seoul for Busan, he tells you he's happy his best friends are together again, and warns that love is more painful the second time around as much as it is sweeter.

Some weekends, Wonwoo would take you to his father and brother’s apartment nearby the university. Bohyuk looked confused, most likely why you’re suddenly in the picture again when he knows all too well that it didn’t end up nicely between you and his brother, but he never said anything.

It’s easy to fall into a routine with Wonwoo, and the lines were never blurred. He never shied away from admitting how he felt and conveniently, you had always felt the same.

He apologized for leaving you behind (though, him leaving Changwon wouldn’t have been so bad, you could have compromised) and for never making an effort all because he was too excited to venture out his new life in Seoul. He spends hours talking about his experience and how much he missed you every step of the way. And just like that, you and Wonwoo are back together.

All is well, at least for the time being.

The program launch was a success six months in. You had underestimated yourself in the beginning, yet here you are after months of working hard, recognized and praised by your bosses with how efficient you had worked for the last six months.

They jokingly tell you that you’re free to go back home now, but Seoul will always be ready for you whenever you wanted to come back.

And in the last six months, you have learned love the place despite its noise and how busy it is all the time. You have understood why people sought after Seoul’s vibrance and why people find inspiration when they visit the city. You have seen different personalities and realized that maybe it’s not the city that’s giving the place colors, maybe it’s the people and their diversities and quirks. Seoul, finally, is a place you like and would often visit if given the chance.

But in the end, home is still home.

People think that all small town girls want to venture out the big city and learn life from there, but it’s different for you. You like Changwon, and as much as you love Seoul now, nothing compares to home.

And so you decide to go back home.

And Wonwoo wasn’t taking it well.

“But I thought you love Seoul,” he argues when you drop the bomb on him.

“I do,” you answer. “And I love you. But it’s not home, Wonwoo.”

He licks his lips, frustrated and leans back from the dining chair. “Y/N, stay. You’ll do well here.”

“I’ll do better in Changwon, Won,” you reply. “Besides, it’s not like we’re breaking up again. We know better now.”

“You don’t know that,” he mumbles and drinks from the glass.

You sigh, losing the appetite. “Won. I supported you when you wanted to move to Seoul. Can’t you do the same for me?”

“Am I not enough?” He mumbles. You understand but you ask him to repeat. “Am I not enough?”

You laugh sardonically. “It's funny because I was asking myself the exact same thing when you left me for Seoul.”

Wonwoo sighs. “That was different, Y/N. We were just starting our careers back then. It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. It’s different this time. You have the choice to stay.”

“And you had the choice to visit me once or twice and to make it work,” you retort. Wonwoo is taken aback by your sudden attitude. “But you didn’t. In your head, it was all Seoul. You told me you didn’t have a reason to come home.”

“I only said that because I was pissed,” he answers. “You’re the one who broke up with me.”

“And you didn’t bother calling back,” you respond. It’s true. He never called back, never tried to apologize, never took a train home to ask you to take him back – which you would have. In a heartbeat. Without a doubt.

“Was I not enough?” You ask the question back to him. “Was I not enough for you to compromise, Wonwoo? Now, am I not enough for you to finally learn how to compromise and make this work?”

Wonwoo stays silent. You can’t read his mind, so you pick up the dishes and wash up. He avoids you at all costs. By the time the clock hits 9 pm, Wonwoo bids you goodbye – but not before kissing you on the forehead.

When the door is shut, you start to cry and pack your things.

***

Your flight is three days from now, but Soonyoung is already acting like it’s your last day. He reckons it would be nice to have dinner at the same barbecue place for the last time because you would be too busy for he next two days.

The dinner is nice, as always, and Wonwoo is silent the whole time. Soonyoung teases him and tells his friend not to be too sad that you’re going back, unaware of the fight you and the latter had two days ago.

When dinner is done, Wonwoo drives you home and announces that he’s staying the night. You let him and kiss him on the lips before taking a shower.

Wonwoo hugs you while you scroll through your phone on the bed.

It’s been two days and all he’s done is to mope around. He has followed you everywhere but hasn’t said anything about you moving. He takes care of you, kisses you, and even makes love to you but he doesn’t talk about the elephant in the room. You are just as bad; you don’t say anything either.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly when you’re laughing at a video from Instagram, you almost miss it.

“What was that?” you ask, pausing the video and looking up at him. Your head is resting on his arm, his hand playing with one of yours.

“I’m sorry,” he says it again, clearly this time. “I thought about us a lot, even talked to Jihoon and asked for his insights. And I realized how insensitive I have been towards you and this relationship. Jihoon told me about how much pain you went through three years ago—“

“Wonwoo, you’ve already been forgiven,” you interrupt.

“No, please let me apologize properly,” he says. “Three years ago, Changwon wasn’t the place for me. I was happy with you but I knew it in my heart that I couldn’t stay in Changwon. The first week in Seoul was the best week of my life. I had learned how to deal with different personalities here, and found myself learning about my own potentials that I couldn’t see when I was in Changwon. I was happy in Seoul, and it had always felt incomplete because you weren’t around. And I knew you never wanted to move.

“I had asked father and Bohyuk to move here because I knew they’d be better off here, too. And I knew deep down, you weren’t too keen of the idea of moving here with me someday, and that made me mad. That made me think as though you didn’t love me enough to even visit me every weekend, not realizing that you did. You do. You loved me so much that you let me go even when you were lonely and missing me most days. You supported me, and took your days off with me so that we could make it work.

“I was the one who didn’t love you enough to see through what we could have done and compromised to be together until the end. And with you being here in Seoul for the last six months, I have learned that I can never be truly happy if you’re not with me. So, I’m sorry, Y/N, that I had been too selfish years ago and even now. I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize once again a mistake I could have done for the second time. I’m sorry that you had to double your efforts back then and that I had made you feel like you weren’t enough – and the truth is that you are. More than enough if you ask me. And I am willing to meet you halfway to make it work this time.”

By the time Wonwoo is done, you’re already crying and hugging him. You don’t realize this until Wonwoo laughs and comments about how you made a paper towel out of his shirt. You apologize and stand to grab another shirt for him. He thanks you and helps you wipe your tears as you and him sit across each other on your bed.

“So how do we do this?” he asks. “We can take turns going back and forth from Changwon and here.”

“They’re promoting me as senior manager for both sites: Changwon and Seoul,” you announce. Wonwoo gasps and hugs you. “You can come visit me if you miss me too much, but I’d like to talk about moving some of my things to your apartment if you don’t mind.. I’m giving this place up.”

Wonwoo kisses you again and again, saying he’s proud of you and tells you that he’s going to start moving your things tomorrow. You tell him that you will still take the flight to Changwon in three days to check on your team, but you’ll most likely be back in a month.

You and Wonwoo spend hours talking about your plans, and somehow it reminds you of three years ago when Wonwoo had to leave. But this time, instead of hushed promises, you and him had plans: a timetable and a commitment to make it work this time.

Wonwoo randomly brings up the question of marriage and what would happen by the time you and him decide to tie the knot. You kiss him goodnight and tell him that you’ll cross the bridge when you get there. He asks if you would marry him if he asks you.

You say yes before you and him drift to sleep.

***

The flight back to Changwon took an hour at least. Your luggage weighs lighter compared to how heavy it was when you left six months ago.

There is a light, hopeful feeling in your chest as you push your luggage in the middle of the busy arrival area. Your phone dings, but you decide you’d check it later when you reach home.

Changwon is much, much warmer than Seoul, and you kind of forgotten because you wore a jacket before departing the city. Its salty air hits you as soon as you step out of the airport and suddenly, you’re reminded why you loved home so much.

The taxi stops right in front of you. The old man helps you with your luggage albeit light. You thank him and he asks you the address. His accent tells you you’re home.

Your phone dings again, and you pull out your phone this time.

The messages are from Wonwoo. The first one is a picture of him pouting with a caption “missing you already x”.

The second one is a message that makes your heart swell.

From: Wonuuu <3 Seoul is colder without you. Have a great time in Changwon, love. Trust that your Wonwoo will wait for you.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo scenario #wonwoo angst #wonwoo au #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo scenario #ex!wonwoo #seventeen #svt wonwoo #seventeen smut #seventeen fic #seventeen au

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caffeinewitchcraft · 1 year

Text

Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls

Summary: Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. (Tagged with Blood, violence, child death)

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Danielle is cursed.

This battlefield is nice. It’s early afternoon and the breeze that comes from the forest to the east is sweet. The fighting has only just begun and the scent of blood is still hovering at the edge of her senses. It hasn’t erased the taste of the dead girl’s last meal – bread sweetened with honey – yet. She’s used to storm clouds the size of mountains roiling overhead, the electric sting of lightning against her skin, the crash of blades against armor and arrows against shields. The sun is warm and honey-sweet against her cheek and there’s no fighting going on right now. There’s only the low murmur of voices from all around and some muffled sobbing.

If she weren’t waking up in the body of a dead girl, she’d call it picnic weather.

Time to pay attention.

“—Chosen One is dead,” a man says. His voice matches the weather more than the situation. Calm. Even. Gentle. A wave lapping at the shore before the tsunami. She can feel his aura undulating through the ground, dark and demanding. Demon King? Mad Emperor? Dark Lord? One of those types. He projects his words over the renewed sobbing. “Do you see your folly now, honorable knights? The wasted months of defiance? You were never going to defeat my army even with years and seven fabled soldiers at your mercy rather than the one. Here, the day of your final rebellion, your Hero lies dead after only one volley.”

Hero. Danielle is cursed, she shouldn’t be feeling pity for anyone but herself. But there it is, the familiar bile in the back of her throat, the prickling of her eyes, the tightening in her chest. This dead girl was their Hero. They made her their Chosen One. From the feel of it, they didn’t school in her magic or train her in swordsmanship. Her muscles are burning from death, yes, but also from overexertion.

What do you want? Danielle asks. All of the right systems are under her control now. The ground is cold against her back, the girl’s tiny curls a tickle against her face. The air is sweet underneath the scent of a dying blow and she can hear the conversations around her clearly. The Dark Lord is still gloating, giving the knights their time to mourn and his own forces time to ready the next attack. Sweetheart, what do you want?

The girl’s soul shudders. I-I’m not dead?

The arrow pierced your heart. You’re dead.

A dizzying swirl of emotions cloud the girl’s next words. Grief-sorrow-panic-relief-fury-horror. Danielle has to reinforce her barrier between her soul and the girl’s to avoid being swept away by it all. All of the dead girls Danielle is called to are strong, and this one is no different. Danielle can’t hear her clearly over the roar of her emotions, but this one is talking very quickly.

…live…wanted to…please…save…

Danielle peeks out from under her eyelashes. It’s bright for a battlefield, but there’s a familiar red staining the ground as far as she can see. The armored feet of both sides’ soldiers are about thirty feet away, a hazy barrier of magic holding them apart.

“Let down this barrier!” Knight David screams. The girl’s knowledge flows into Danielle’s mind like a spring. He’s the head of the kingdom’s number one knight squad, a former S-rank adventurer, and a mentor to the Hero. He bangs the hilt his sword against the Dark Lord’s barrier. It crackles under the assault and doesn’t break. Knight David swears. “You’ll die for what you did! She was just a little girl!”

Another memory: Knight David didn’t think of her as a little girl. He gave her a woman’s sword that took her a month to learn how to lift, much less wield. He told her he had faith in her. He told her she could do it. When she asked how, he pushed a curl behind her ear and told her victory was fated.

The Dark Lord laughs, the sound like the tide retreating into the sea. “Is the kingdom so hard-pressed for soldiers they bring children to the battlefield?”

“She was Chosen,” Knight David says. There are genuine tears in his voice. “Nobody wanted that for her. Nobody.”

“She was nobody,” the Dark Lord says. The magic barrier trembles and he smirks. “Just as you’re about to be.”

Knight David’s magic sets his sword ablaze. “You’ll pay for this.”

The demons chitter behind the Dark Lord, straining against his commands. They want blood. They want to attack. They saw the Hero fall and they’re emboldened by her death. They’ll tear the humans apart.

In contrast, Knight David’s forces aren’t so sure. Knight David’s teeth gnash and he swears at the Dark Lord, but his men look from her body to each other. It was so quick. So fast. Did they demons hold greater power than they were told to kill a Chosen One so quickly?

“Prepare yourselves,” the Dark Lord says. The barrier fades.

“To the death,” Knight David swears.

Danielle presses again. They’re running out of time. What do you want?

Save them.

The words roar through Danielle’s temporary body. Save them. Her magic ignites like coal in a furnace and she gasps, steam escaping from her lips as a dead girl’s heart restarts.

“W-what?” someone whispers.

Danielle opens her eyes.

It’s not a very big war. There are maybe thirty combatants on the side of the Kingdom. She assumed from the girl’s memories that they’d all be knights, but there are adventurers mixed in among them as well as the occasional wizard. They’re all kitted out in the colors of the Kingdom though. Armor painted with the Royal family’s crest, bandanas with the fallen star motif embroidered on, red tassels on their weapons. Maybe they don’t have the Kingdom’s army behind them, but they have the King’s favor.

The Dark Lord is the only one who’s managed to keep his mouth shut after her sudden resurrection. His side is comprised of dark wizards in tattered robes and nearly a hundred demons. Danielle can see wolves the size of horses, goblins with wooden clubs, and vampires hiding in the tree line. It looks impressive, but the girl’s memories tell Danielle a different story.

This is the last stand for both sides.

“The Hero lives,” Knight David says through bloodless lips. He’s younger than Danielle thought, his beard only just touched with silver. His eyes shine wetly and he raises his sword over his head. “THE HERO LIVES!”

Knights, adventurers, and wizards lean back and scream their jubilation to the sky. Some of them weep openly, staggering as close to her as the Dark Lord’s barrier allows with their hands spread wide as if to embrace her.

The Dark Lord is silent as the kingdom’s forces rejoice. He looks like a human though he’s gone to great lengths to hide that fact. His long, black hair is twisted around his horns, emphasizing them. His clothes are as tattered as his forces’ and there’s dried blood staining the hem of his cape. His nails are long and painted an unending black that makes them look like talons.

If it weren’t for the depth and darkness of his magic, he wouldn’t register to Danielle as a Dark Lord at all.

“Hero,” the Dark Lord murmurs. His red eyes gleam a beat before his pupils swell, turning them black. He doesn’t raise his voice above the noise, but magic makes it so Danielle can hear him easily. “Killing you quickly was the last mercy I had for you.”

“Mercy,” Danielle says. The word echoes from her involuntarily. She pulls the arrow from the dead girl’s chest. The wet and meaty sound of it finally silences Knight David and his allies. She coughs and tastes blood.

“The fates have seen the justness of our cause and protected the Hero,” Knight David says into the silence.

“Fate,” Danielle echoes and coughs blood again.

Knight David doesn’t hear her. His chest swells. A talented orator, he knows just what to say to erase the horror of her death and reinvigorate his squad. “Dark Lord -no! – Demon, you’ve lost.” He points his sword directly at the Dark Lord. “You just don’t know it yet.” The knights cheer.

Oh, Danielle thinks, he knows it.

The Dark Lord stares down the length of Knight David’s blade impassively. His lip curls into a sneer that must look truly demonic to the knights of the kingdom. But from her vantage point, Danielle can see the way his clenched fists tremble. The barrier wavers imperceptibly and then holds. The Dark Lord can’t sustain it for much longer, not if he wants to have enough magic to fight.

As soon as it falls, the kingdom will strike. And, with the Hero on their side, they’ll have the conviction (and the magic) to take on a thousand demons. The Dark Lord only has a hundred.

Danielle staggers to her feet. This body is on the weaker side of the ones she has inhabited, but it’s not the worst she’s had to work with. Her legs hold her weight and the heart beats strongly once she uses her magic to patch it.

Knight David grins at her, the fever of battle bright in his eyes. “Hero!” He holds out his hand. “How glad I am to see you alive! Cast your strengthening spell.”

A memory: They taught her to strengthen her allies and nothing else. Training sessions ran late into the night as they pushed her to expand her range, power them up more, amplify magic higher and higher. This girl knows exhaustion more intimately than the affection of another.

Knight David slashes the barrier. He doesn’t wait to see if she’ll obey. Of course she will. This dead girl has never defied him before. She owes him and his kingdom too much. Who else would elevate an orphan to the heights of a Hero? He strikes again and this time his blow leaves a crack in the Dark Lord’s magic that splinters out like a spiderweb. He grins meanly. “Come, soldiers! Reclaim our land! Defend our home! Defeat evil!”

The knights smash their weapons against their shields and bare their teeth. “For our homes! For our families! For good!”

“Kill,” the Dark Lord hisses as his barrier fails piece by piece. He leans towards Knight David like a snake about to strike. A sword as black as night materializes in his hand. “Kill them all.”

“Hey,” Danielle says, “don’t you think you’re moving on a little fast?”

Nobody hears her. Nobody asks her if she’s alright. Nobody cares.

It’s Danielle’s curse to care.

The Dark Lord’s barrier crumbles. The air fractures and fragments tumble from the top and towards the combatants on either side like sparks. It’s ten feet in the air, eight feet, seven feet--

Her magic billows from her like smoke, scorching the grass as it balloons forward. Blood burns and vaporizes under the heat. The wolves are the first to notice it. They whine and back away from her wave of power, cowering behind their lord. Danielle hisses through her teeth and her power surges a little faster, touching the Dark Lord’s magic before the demons can alert their master. She’s powerful enough to do this even with him fighting her, but that would be…messy. She wrests control of the barrier from the Dark Lord. She builds it back up to twenty feet tall and adds new walls. The King’s forces used to be the only ones trapped. Now the Dark Lord turns and blinks at the misty cage that’s formed around him and his army.

The sudden silence hurts her ears as hundreds of eyes follow the scorch marks from the barrier to her.

Knight David’s sword wavers. “Hero…?”

“Your Hero isn’t here anymore,” Danielle says. Experience tells her to rip this bandage off quickly. She gestures to the dead girl’s clouded eyes. “Did you really think she survived an arrow to her heart?”

She can see from their faces that they did. Knight David opens his mouth and then closes it. He swallows hard. He says, “You’re not—” His face hardens. “Who are you?”

The Dark Lord watches her with black eyes, but he’s not still. His power tests her control of his barrier. He doesn’t find a crack.

“You called it fate,” Danielle says. She limps towards them. There’s an arrow in the girl’s thigh she didn’t notice before. She pulls it out without breaking stride and throws it to the side. The furnace that’s consumed the dead girl’s heart churns with rage. “You lot always believe in fate. Makes everything you do look prettier, doesn’t it? More palatable.”

“It is fate. The Oracles of Trilbia spoke of a girl with untold power who would be our savior. We needed—”

“LOOK AT HER!” Danielle roars. She slams a hand against her chest and then holds her palm high overhead. Red shines wetly on her palm. “She was a child! Fifteen summers and you stand there and call her a savior?”

“I ask again,” Knight David says. His eyes flash. “Who are you?” He draws his sword point slowly, purposefully, away from the Dark Lord. He points it directly at her. “What have you done to the Hero?”

Danielle won’t answer stupid questions. “You’re cruel. What you did to her – nothing can justify it. Especially not something as fickle as fate.”

“The Oracles—”

“Should die,” Danielle interrupts. She bares her teeth. “Or at least be honest. If they wanted a child sacrifice, they should have killed her on an altar with their own hands.”

Knight David hits her barrier. It throws him back and he shakes with rage. “Who. Are. You?”

“And you,” Danielle says, turning her attention to the Dark Lord. She holds her bloodied palm out to him. “You speak of mercy. You think giving her a quick death mercy?”

To his credit, he doesn’t deny it or flinch away. He nods shallowly, eyes never leaving hers.

“There was mercy, I’ll give you that,” Danielle says. She staggers towards him and stops just short of the barrier. They’re barely two feet apart when she says, “It was her mercy that she died quickly. Not yours.”

The Dark Lord’s nostrils flare. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” Danielle promises. Her heart aches. This isn’t the time for that. She stokes the fires of her magic until steam escapes from her lips again. Only then does she twist towards Knight David again. “You killed this girl. You threw her into battle untrained. They may have shot her, but it was you who brought her here. This is your fault.”

“You’re some malevolent spirit,” Knight David says. He sweeps one arm out as if to banish her. Behind him, his forces tremble. “A vile devil come to sow seeds of doubt. Our conviction is firm. Oh, monstrous devil! Release our friend, release the Hero and your end may be swift yet.”

Devil? Danielle loses hold of her rage for a moment. Yes, yes she supposes she is. There are forces at play here that she might call devilish. But being called a devil by him?

Ridiculous.

“Maybe you should pray,” Danielle suggests. She nods slowly, warming to the suggestion. “Yes, that’s what you should do. You should pray the big, bad devil away.” She approaches his side of the barrier and the grass withers under her feet. “Pray, Knight David.”

“Hold fast,” Knight David says to his knights. He raises his sword to her and braces himself. “Do not be swayed by—”

“No, don’t pray,” Danielle says. She laughs without humor, chest shuddering with the effort. “Prophecize. Summon a hero to defeat me. Go on. Do it.”

“You will pay for the horrors you’ve committed today. Wearing the skin of the Chosen One damns you to the furthest—”

“Oh, fine, I’ll do it for you. There will be a knight,” Danielle says. She lurches forward and presses her hands against her barrier. Knight David stumbles back when it moves with her, allowing her closer and closer. She laughs again. “A Knight with red splashed across his breast and his shining sword melded to his hand.”

Knight David chokes on a scream as her words become truth. His sword melts under a sudden wave of heat, the silver-plating dripping through his fingers. He falls to his knees and grabs his wrist, trying to shake his hand free of the molten metal. It cools as rapidly as it melted, and he stares in horror as the silver binds his fingers to the hilt forevermore.

Danielle comes closer and the kingdom’s forces flex away from her like a school of fish in the face of a predator. “And this knight,” she says, “will be a Hero to his people. He will rise through his pain and destroy the devil that wore the skin of the little girl he sent to slaughter.” She spreads her arms wide above him, the sun beating down on her crown, and waits. After a beat she says, “Go on. Make the prophecy come true. Stab me. I’m waiting.”

Knight David keens through clenched teeth. “Y-you monster. You w-won’t—” He breathes in deeply and glares up at her. His feeble attempts to raise his arm don’t move his sword more than an inch. “You won’t break me.”

“I don’t have to,” Danielle says. Her arms fall to her sides, and she looms over the fallen knight. The air isn’t sweet now. The smell of burning flesh is more familiar than blood. “She didn’t ask me to break you.”

“Didn’t ask?”

Danielle turns. Unlike the knights, the Dark Lord isn’t backing away from her. He’s as close as he can get, pressed right up against the barrier. He’s rearranged his forces while she wasn’t looking so that the hardier demons are shielding the smaller.

“Didn’t ask,” Danielle agrees. She taps her temple. “Right before she died, I asked her what she wanted. See, nobody here gave a fuck what she wanted before she died. Fate is fake, but belief isn’t. They believed hard enough that the universe heard their pathetic little prayers for a savior. And, at the end, it took pity, but not on them. No one cared so it sent me. I asked what she wanted. She answered. Now we’re here.”

Knight David shudders at her feet.

“Are you a spirit of vengeance then?” the Dark Lord asks very casually. His shoulders are tense, undermining his nonchalance. He speaks a touch too loudly and very carefully doesn’t look back at his army. “Is that it?”

“I’m what she asked for,” Danielle says. She eyes Knight David’s comrades. There’s a wizard somewhere in there valiantly trying to heal Knight David’s wounds from afar. It’s slow going so she ignores it. “Though, between you and me, I think some vengeance is owed here, don’t you?”

The Dark Lord’s jaw flexes. “It is.” He raises his chin. “And you shall have it. I only ask that you let my people go. They are blameless in all this and only had the bad fortune to follow a misguided lord—”

Howls and screams of protest drown out his words. The demons lunge against his orders, mouths frothing and eyes wide in fear. They don’t want their lord to die, they deny his words, they can’t bear to lose him.

The Dark Lord’s power snaps over them and they quiet all at once, voices stolen by his power.

“Let it only be me. Please,” the Dark Lord finishes quietly.

Danielle watches him with interest. “You would die for them?”

“I return the loyalty I’ve been given.” He bows his head. “I will beg if you’d like.”

“What makes you believe I want your death?”

“I know my part in the Hero’s fate,” the Dark Lord says. His lips thin and he stares down at Knight David with more hatred than she thought possible. “Humans brought her here to slaughter, but I gave the order. I called it mercy to kill a child quickly so she need not suffer. We both know I lied. I killed her to keep her from strengthening the kingdom. No matter how I did it, it wasn’t mercy. It was evil and it was…not necessary. It wasn’t necessary but it was easier than the alternatives and so I killed her. I resigned myself to carrying that sin before I ever stepped foot onto the battlefield.”

Oh. Danielle has to blink very quickly as heat rises behind her eyes. The Dark Lord isn’t lying. He isn’t hiding from the truth of his actions nor is he justifying his hand in the Hero’s death. There is sorrow in his voice and his hands are loose at his sides even though his eyes are watchful, waiting for her to strike. He’d let me strike him down. He will stand there and do nothing while I slit his throat.

“It was wrong,” Danielle says. Her throat aches. “It was wrong to kill her.”

The Dark Lord’s head sinks lower. “Yes. It was.”

“She was a child.”

“She was.”

“She didn’t have a choice.”

“I know.”

“She deserved better.”

“Yes.”

Danielle’s chin trembles. This— after all the dead girls, this is a first. “You did it to save your domain.”

“I did.”

“It was evil.”

“Yes. The most evil thing I’ve done.”

“She didn’t ask me to kill you.”

“Ye—what?” The Dark Lord blinks, finally looking back up at her. His eyes are red again, pupils dilated. “She didn’t?”

“No.” Danielle lets the barrier slip out of her control. She can see the Dark Lord more clearly without the wall of smoke and his eyes are more than just red. They’re red-rimmed. Danielle reaches up with her bloodied palm and cups the Dark Lord’s cheek. He shudders at the chill of her touch but doesn’t pull away. “You had no mercy today, but she did. She knew her power would mean the end of your people. She knew she would not be able to resist the order to cast her spell when they gave it. So when the first volley came, she didn’t run. She didn’t raise her shield.”

“Mercy,” the Dark Lord breathes in revelation. His face crumples. “Oh.”

“She died quickly,” Danielle says. The girl’s memories are so hot that Danielle feels burned. All the dead girls are strong. This one is not an exception. “She knew an evil thing would be done today. She chose. She chose.”

The Dark Lord’s voice is thick with tears. “She shouldn’t have had to. She—No!”

Danielle doesn’t know what’s happened at first. The Dark Lord is staring at her in mute horror. His cheek is stained red but her hand is no longer on his cheek. Then she processes that she’s been hit quite hard in the back. She looks down.

A bloody sword is sticking out of her chest. It retracts with a sickly sound and Danielle finds herself on her knees, staring down at the river of blood gushing from her breast. She let down her barrier to speak to the Dark Lord, face to face. She didn’t think she’d be leaving her back open to the other side. Or, rather, she didn’t think Knight David would recover enough to kill her again.

“The devil speaks lies,” Knight David says. His words are thin with pain. He can no longer raise his blade to the sky. His arm is trembling from the effort of stabbing her but still he faces his forces and spurs them to action. “And lies have no place in our kingdom! Our friend, our Hero died for us! So we could win! So we could prosper! So we could—”

He killed her again.

Danielle surges to her feet. The dead girl’s heart is torn to pieces in her chest, but Danielle’s magic surges through her veins like blood. She rises up behind Knight David and shrieks, “Stop killing her!” She drives her hand through Knight David’s chest and rips out his heart.

It happens too fast for anyone to react. The Dark Lord holds his breath and the world goes still. Danielle lets the heart fall and the thud as it hits the grass is loud in the quiet.

Knight David sways once, twice, and then drops to the bloodied ground.

“You didn’t have to die,” Danielle says. She’s looking at the other knights and adventurers and idiots who believed in fate. She’s talking to Knight David. “Even after everything you put her through, she didn’t want you dead. She was good. She was great. And you killed her for it.”

“Mercy,” someone stutters. Then, another. “Mercy, please.”

“No,” Danielle says. Petulant. Like a child. “You didn’t stop him. Not a single one of you tried. She didn’t tell me to save you.”

They combust before they can run. A long time ago, her power wasn’t as controlled. Her fire didn’t get hot enough fast enough. They screamed back then. Screamed and wailed and cursed.

Her fire doesn’t give them a chance to curse her now.

When it is done and she’s satisfied that nothing but ashes remain, she turns to the Dark Lord. He doesn’t flinch from her though there’s fear in his eyes. Even now, he expects her to kill him. Even now he accepts it.

“Bury her,” Danielle says. The fire crackles behind her. “Clean her body and dress her in new clothes. Bury her somewhere where war hasn’t touched and say something kind over her grave.”

The Dark Lord swallows twice before he can speak. He doesn’t ask if this means she’s going to leave him alive. He understands what she means. He says, “I-I will.”

“She saved you,” Danielle says. She wants him to understand that. “She could have wished for anything. Revenge. Peace. A second chance. She didn’t. She wished to save you.”

“She will be honored,” the Dark Lord says. He breathes in deeply and gently reaches out to cup her cheek, an imitation of her earlier touch. His palm is warm against her cold skin. If he is repulsed by the feel of death, he doesn’t show it. “I will see to it.”

Danielle closes her eyes. Though she doesn’t lean into his touch, she doesn’t pull away. It is the singularly most affectionate moment she’s experienced in decades, but it’s not for her. “Her name is Samira.”

The Dark Lord releases his breath. “Samira. Thank you for telling me her name.”

Danielle lets her curse sweep her to the next dead girl.

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

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to see stories like this or some more serialized stories, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)! Currently I’m working on the Cinderella retelling I have posted on here :)

See y’all next week!

#my writing #long post #The Chosen One #original short story #danielle is cursed #child death #violence

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vidavalor · 10 months

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I don't think Crowley's moment with Nina is an "oh" moment... Crowley has known forever. And he knows Aziraphale knows and feels the same, just not where they're at with it. If not, nothing he says in the "...and I would like to spend" scene makes any sense, nor would multiple other scenes. What Crowley realizes in that conversation with Nina is that Aziraphale (and, to a degree, Crowley himself) are fixating on Nina and Maggie to avoid talking about their own relationship.

He realizes it because, in that moment, *Nina admits that that's what she's doing with him*, which is what prompts Crowley's realization. She's stressed about her relationship with her abusive partner who is leaving her and she thinks the couple from the business across the street (Crowley and Aziraphale) are an adorable mess so she's been into their drama to distract from her own. It's when she said that that Crowley had his "oh" moment. He's not realizing that he and Aziraphale are in love. He already knows that. He's realizing he and Aziraphale are fixating on Nina and Maggie to avoid their own, less straightforward relationship.

Nina peppers Crowley with questions about their relationship and finds out in the process that these two who are obviously crazy about one another haven't really gotten together exactly, even as they are running around trying to get her and Maggie together. She admits basically that she's fixating on him and Aziraphale because "other people's love lives always seem more straightforward than our own" and Crowley realizes... oh. *That's* what this is about.

That's why Aziraphale's mind came up with this excuse to give his abusive partner (Heaven) and now he's obsessing over making it happen. He's projecting all of our stuff on Maggie and Nina. He wants us to talk and he doesn't know how to start it so he's coming up with scenarios for Maggie and Nina that involve us, too-- that are kinda really just about us. And I've been helping him because I don't know how to start this either and I just want him to be happy. I don't want go push this too far or go too fast and freak him out, so I've just been letting him drive it and now we are both trying to talk to one another through what we are doing about Maggie and Nina.

Oh sorry you thought we were together? Oh no I mean we are we've been married for millennia actually we just have only spent the last few years able to just be around one another with just a reduced fear of being murdered by heaven and hell so we actually are, at once, completely besotted with one another and also incapable of speaking in anything but our little code, which we honestly really can only speak as well as Aziraphale can speak French and oh you're looking at me now like ok well then how do you think you and he would know romance enough to help me and Maggie and ok yes seeing it now right yes ok fair point, great chat...

#crowley #aziraphale #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #ineffable husbands

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cookinguptales · 10 months

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The power is still out so I guess I’ll get started on that meta now.

One thing that I think is really fascinating about this season as a whole is that it’s really, really emphasizing the power Nandor and Guillermo have to accidentally hurt each other. It’s kind of fascinating, tbh, because this whole show it’s been Nandor purposefully but also accidentally hurting Guillermo — but this season, it’s been very much the other way around.

Let me start with Nandor’s history of this. It happens in almost every episode, being honest with you, but two of the clearest instances were in 1.01 and 4.09.

In the very first episode, we’re introduced to the relationship that Nandor and Guillermo have by how they behave on their 10th anniversary as a master-familiar partnership. Guillermo is practically giddy at the idea that his beloved master is finally going to make him a vampire, and he’s hurt deeply when he not only does not do so, he appears to have forgotten altogether how long Guillermo has been there.

We feel bad for Guillermo here, but… well, let’s look at it from Nandor’s perspective. Yes, he forgot how long Guillermo’s been there, but… being real with you, the vampires seem to have a very shaky grasp on time at the best of times. They don’t understand human lifespans at all, they have very fuzzy memories for when things happen, and almost every time they make time estimates they’re off by a hilarious amount. I don’t know that we can fully blame Nandor for not realizing that an entire decade has gone by — he, like the other vampires, tends to live simultaneously in the Long Time Ago and the Right Now and any time in between those periods is ?????

So to him, he’s remembered when their anniversary is (already a success) and has put hours into making a handmade art project for his very endearing familiar. He is sure that Guillermo is gonna love this. He thinks he is absolutely acing this being-a-vampiric-master thing.

But we know that his gift depicting the two of them as vampires together is really just rubbing salt in the wound, because we’re approaching this thing as humans — like Guillermo.

Then again in 4.09, Nandor straight-up steals Guillermo’s boyfriend and inadvertently puts the events in motion that will lead to Guillermo’s boyfriend leaving him for his own clone. Terrible behavior! This hurts Guillermo deeply! His very first boyfriend cheating on him (sort of) with the man he’s been in love with for over a decade and then leaving him altogether for another man he is cheating with (definitely) who also happens to be his own clone.

That’s traumatizing!

But… again, let’s look at it from Nandor’s (very stupid) POV. He knows that Guillermo losing his boyfriend will hurt him, but he also wants to have said boyfriend. So he comes up with a solution that, to his mind, will make everyone happy: let Guillermo keep his boyfriend but also make a clone of him so he can have him, too.

I think it’s very important to note here that, catty as it was to say, Nandor was right. He definitely could have stolen Guillermo’s Freddie without too much work. The guy’s a philanderer. But instead of doing that, he used up one of his last three wishes to make his own Freddie specifically to avoid hurting Guillermo. And then he seemed genuinely confused when Guillermo was hurt anyway. He then tried to do whatever he could to make Guillermo stop hurting, including offering him his own Freddie, until he ultimately gave up a toy that he truly loved so Guillermo would hurt less.

Again, from Nandor's POV he has made a significant sacrifice for Guillermo’s well-being. He has given up a man that he really, really liked so Guillermo would stop being so heartbroken. Moreover, this is a man that, to his mind, he got the hard way instead of the easy way that would have hurt Guillermo more.

So he still thinks he’s doing great at this relationship, even if we know he is ultimately breaking Guillermo’s heart.

(And as an aside here, I think it’s fascinating that Guillermo really did seem to understand exactly what was going on, too. He knew that Nandor’s decision to clone Freddie wasn’t about Nandor wanting Freddie, it was about Nandor wanting all of Guillermo’s attention on him at all times, and that’s why he was angry.)

Anyway… that’s all a really long way to get to my point, which is this. We’ve seen Nandor play this out a hundred times, doing something he thought was fine only for it to devastate Guillermo. We understand human lifetimes, relationships, and emotions, so we understand why Guillermo is upset. But, and this is key, Nandor doesn’t.

So season five finally shows this happening in reverse. I’m not going to say that Guillermo hasn’t hurt Nandor before, purposefully or otherwise, because he has. But boy did he really fuck things up this time.

Like Nandor, Guillermo didn’t do any of it on purpose. He was never trying to hurt Nandor or upset social norms when he paid Derek to bite him. But vampiric priorities are as foreign to Guillermo as human priorities are to Nandor. He did something he thought was totally fine and value-free only to find that he didn’t just transgress a social norm, he transgressed the big one. He didn’t just do something that would hurt Nandor, he did something that will destroy him.

He didn’t mean to. His misunderstanding was understandable to us, fellow humans. But that doesn’t make it okay. Just like it wasn’t okay when Nandor stole his fucking boyfriend.

It's almost like this was tailor-made to force the audience to think about how the vampires have been interacting with Guillermo for years. This time Guillermo didn't know something about their culture, and obviously we didn't either. So we felt that same dawning horror when we understood how big the accidental fuck-up was — and we had to come to terms with the fact that this is how Nandor feels about Guillermo all the time.

Anyway... Guillermo’s big angst trigger seems to be being undervalued by the people he loves. It’s when someone who he loves with everything he has does not love him back. We see that devastation hit him both of the times that Nandor accidentally hurt him in this post, along with a thousand other times. I think, in fact, it is his main drive as a character: doing everything he can to be valued. It’s why he wants to be a vampire. It’s why he serves the vampires. It’s why he lies to his family. It’s depressing and it’s codependent and it’s unhealthy, but that’s Guillermo.

Nandor’s big angst trigger, on the other hand, seems to be abandonment. He is so fucking terrified of the people that he loves leaving him, and that seems to be rooted pretty firmly in his experiences when he was still alive. (Jehan, his wives running away, etc.) He’s so scared of Gail leaving him that he just tries harder to win her back when he discovers she’s cheating on him. He’s so scared of Laszlo leaving him that he gets angry when Laszlo makes new friends. He’s so scared of Guillermo leaving him in 2.08 that he’s willing to humiliate himself to bring him home. His primary drive really seems to be hoarding the people he loves close — too close for comfort sometimes. He tries so hard to force a connection that he ironically tends to sever it. Just look at his poor descendent Madeleine. :’)

And just as Nandor constantly sets off Guillermo’s devaluation trigger, Guillermo constantly sets off Nandor’s abandonment trigger. Every time he leaves or even just threatens to do so, Nandor goes ballistic. But it seems like the only thing that sets him off more than Guillermo leaving is Guillermo staying where he is but being emotionally absent. He doesn’t know how to handle a Guillermo who has replaced him while they’re still living in the same home. Right now he thinks that Guillermo has replaced him with Laszlo as a hang-out buddy, and that’s bad enough — how will he respond when he finds out that Guillermo has replaced him with Derek in a much more intimate way?

Guillermo’s doing everything he can to spare Nandor’s feelings in this season, but it seems like every decision he makes just upsets Nandor more. Nandor feels replaced, abandoned, and neglected, and he’s going to feel that way a hell of a lot more when he sees the truth.

Guillermo has always been shown to be capable of hurting Nandor in intimate ways that no one else can. From the very first episode, we’re made abundantly aware that Guillermo chooses to take Nandor’s shit. He twitches that curtain to the side and we realize that no matter how strong Nandor is, Guillermo has the ultimate power in this relationship. Guillermo can hurt Nandor like no one else can because Nandor trusts him to protect him while he’s asleep.

Then Guillermo becomes this legendary slayer and he can actually physically hurt Nandor like no one else can just because he’s stronger than even the most powerful and respected vampires in the Tri-State Area.

But we’re seeing now that Guillermo can also hurt Nandor emotionally like no one else can. Nandor gave him that power, too, didn’t he? This whole series, Nandor has been the one hurting Guillermo over and over, but this season is making it so fucking clear that Guillermo has the power to do it right back. Even if he doesn’t mean to.

Especially if he doesn’t mean to, maybe.

The two of them are so terrible at communicating with one another. Just. So fucking terrible. And that’s a lot of how Nandor accidentally hurt Guillermo over and over throughout the years. And it’s how Guillermo has just straight-up gutted him now.

#we had electrical problems this morning and I'm operating off of very little sleep but oh well #wwdits #wwdits spoilers #wwdits meta #long post #nandermo

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dragonnarrative-writes · 2 months

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Transferrable Skills

Part 1

Your therapist warned you about superstitious thinking. You've been working on it. In fact, you've been very good at catching it, challenging yourself to relax, and letting things go. Even before this big work trip, you consciously avoided the "unhelpful" rituals and reminded yourself that the little ones were just to make you feel secure, not to actually influence the future across an ocean.

"I'm very nervous," you had told Señor Snuggly two weeks ago. Your worn out stuffed lizard hadn't said anything back, of course. "That's normal, because it’s an international flight. So I'm going to give you a hug good-bye, and you're gonna stay here to watch the house. I know it's not going to change anything, but I'll feel better knowing you're here."

At the airport, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It had satisfied the part of your brain that was looking for one (1) thing to go wrong. Superstitious thinking, but the kind that helped you to relax and listen to music until you boarded.

Now, forced to sit on the floor, surrounded by shouting men with guns, your brain is stuck on your lopsided stuffed animal and blue toothbrush. Of all the things that could pop into your head, why those?

You almost let out a nervous giggle at the mental image of Señor Snuggly using your toothbrush as a shiv to save the day. And then the idea of what would happen if you started laughing right now almost startles you into another burst of giggles. You clap your hands over your mouth and curl into yourself a little bit more.

Next to you, your boss throws you a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"No talking!" The nearest assailant yells in heavily accented English. You're pretty sure the attackers have been speaking Russian, but you could be mistaken. He brandishes his gun. "You want to die?"

"She needs to go to the restroom," your boss answers.

"No, I don't," you protest. You really, really do, and have for the last two hours. But being escorted out of the room alone seems like enough of a Bad Idea that your bladder can wait.

"No, she does not," the man confirms. "Shut up. Do not talk."

You meet your boss's eyes and try to silently convey, Why are you trying to get me killed?

His doughy face says back, I am a white man who goes to the gym once a week, and I really like the John Wick movies. I have delusions of being a hero. If one man takes you to the bathroom I have the mistaken belief that I can overpower two men with guns to save everyone. Also you're a black woman, so don't you have super powers? I believe in you, queen.

You may be projecting.

Ten minutes later, just as you're wondering if you should suggest a group field trip down the hall to the bathrooms, a series of gunshots rings through the building. The energy in the room goes from nervous to frantic in an instant. Your bladder shuts up. The Russian men start shouting and waving their guns, apparently too agitated to speak English. Two hostages start crying because no one else speaks Russian, just English, French and your half-forgotten, informal, Mexican Spanish.

Another three Russians come bursting in the room, snarling something you can’t understand. They grab at a couple of people, force them to stand at gunpoint and gesture to the rest of you. And then everyone is up and kind of moving in the direction of the door. But you can’t get out of the door because they’re blocking it, but they’re really agitated that the room is still full of hostages. And then some people are being pushed back down to the floor. Your boss ends up sitting back down again. A hard hand closes on your arm before you can get down, and you and four others are dragged out.

The leader says, “You all are dignitaries, yes? Your embassies will send money or they will watch you die.”

This is, potentially, the worst possible scenario. None of the five of you are even remotely important, let alone dignitaries. You’re not 100% sure about most of the others, but you’re an aid. An aid to an aid, really. The blonde woman with the remarkably sharp bob is a personal assistant. Today’s conference was about health data management, of all things.

You decide you’re not going to die with a full bladder. You look to the man holding your arm in an iron grip and point to the upcoming door on the right. “Can I please go to the restroom? I’ll be quick.”

He asks the leader something in Russian, and then you’re being shoved through the bathroom door. He doesn’t follow you into the stall, but it’s still so awkward to pee knowing that there’s a man with a gun waiting for you. You’re so glad you aren’t on your period - opening the wrapper on anything right now would feel louder than it has since middle school.

The door to the restroom opens just as the toilet finishes flushing. You hear a scuffle, an aborted shout, and then something heavy hits the floor. You freeze, heart racing. But then there’s no more sound.

You wait for what feels like an hour but must only be a minute before calling, “H-hello?”

You don’t get an answer. Unlocking the door and easing it open, you peek out and stifle a gasp. The man who had escorted you is on the ground, a pool of blood growing around him. His gun is gone.

You’re halfway through washing your hands before you realize you’re on autopilot.

It takes everything in you to fight down the urge to freeze in place and make yourself inch around the body to the door. When you poke your head out, the hall looks so normal that it makes you dizzy for a second. You try to decide what to do through the anxiety fog. You can’t hide in the bathroom with a dead body, and you probably can’t go back to the big room with everyone without getting shot. You have no idea where the other faux-dignitaries were taken. Apparently, there’s at least one person going around killing people in bathrooms.

You try to think of what your therapist would say in this situation. All of the options feel bad, she would say. So you can’t not do anything because it feels bad. Thank the anxiety for trying to keep you safe, then try to pick the least awful course of action.

“Fight, flight, freeze, fawn,” you whisper to yourself. Fighting is right out. “Flight, freeze, fawn.” There’s a body pouring blood right behind you. “Flight, fawn.” No one is around to appease. “Flight.”

Another gunshot and shouting. It sounds like it’s coming from the left, so you head right.

You shuck off your sensible kitten heels and fervently wish your otherwise sensible pantsuit wasn’t pastel purple in this very beige hallway. Not that a thicker-than-European-average black woman mincing around in a Swiss hotel and conference center would be inconspicuous in a black suit, your mind counters itself. You try to force your brain to shut up, with mixed success.

You wander a good five minutes, reminding yourself not to panic at every locked door you try. The halls are so quiet that you half convince yourself that you’ve gotten out of immediate danger. So of course, right as you’re about the round the next corner, one of the Russians appears, reeling backwards. And then he collapses, a knife sticking out of his neck.

You can’t really worry about that, though, because right after him comes one of the largest men you’ve ever seen. He must catch sight of you out of the corner of his eye, because his head snaps to look at you. You barely register the assault rifle in his hands because his eyes bore into you through the top half of a human skull.

Oh, I’m glad I already peed, you think, staring into the eyes of Death.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” the man says, growls really. “What are you doing here?”

“I… bathroom? Please don’t kill me. I’ll cooperate.” you squeak out. Oh, fawning! Cool.

“Price, I’ve got one of the hostages,” he says, nonsensically. “I’ve cleared the east wing.”

You jump when his walkie-talkie - of course it’s a walkie-talkie - squawks back an “Affirmative. Status?”

“She’s up and walking,” the man says, not taking his eyes from yours. “Seems uninjured.”

“Stow her somewhere safe.”

“Negative,” Death says. Before you can panic because what the fuck does that mean? he says, “Bringing her back with me.”

“Copy.”

When he takes a step toward you, you stop breathing. Everything in you is screaming RUN and DON’T MOVE at the same time. His second step in your direction results in a full body twitch. You get the impression that the gun is pointed at the ground, but the only thing you can really see is bone white over a black mask and what might be really pretty brown eyes, but the shadow from the overhead light really makes it hard to tell and your vision is going a bit darkaroundtheedgesandohI’mstillnotbreathingthat’snotgreat.

You’re shocked into gasping when a gloved palm touches the side of your face. The rough material helps you settle into your body, just in time to start hyperventilating.

And that’s when things get weird, because Death says, “Easy, lovie. Settle, f’ me, yeah? Deep breaths, like we’ve practiced.”

Your brain latches on to the familiar command to settle before you can even question why it’s familiar. The way the man makes a long, low shushing noise makes you so suddenly weak in the knees that you stagger where you stand.

And then it clicks. Holy shit. You know this voice. You know these commands. You’ve been listening to and learning them at least once a week for the last six months. He doesn’t even sound that different from over the phone or on a video call.

“There you go, that’s good,” Simon, the dominant you’ve been seeing online, tells you through his skull mask. “Keep breathin’. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

It’s the second time in your life you’ve been surprised out of a panic attack. “W-what the fuck? Si?” you gasp. “What are you doing here? Did you kill that guy?”

“Questions are gonna have to wait,” he says. “Keep breathing. In for four, hold for two. In for two, out for eight. Can you do that?”

“Why are you in Switzerland?”

“Breathe,” he rumbles. “Settle.”

“No,” you hiss, even as your shoulders relax another fraction. The corners of your eyes start prickling with tears.

“This is a double red light situation,” Si says, staring into your eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get you out of here. You trust me?”

“You are wearing a skull on your face.”

“And you’re wearing a purple suit,” he answers. “There are people who want to shoot both of us. You get one more outburst, then you’re breathing and following me. Acknowledge.”

What the fuck? “This isn’t a scene!”

His eyes bore into yours. “Might surprise you, but I’m aware. Acknowledge.”

A distant shout makes you flinch. You relent. “Acknowledged. Four in, hold two, two in, out eight. Follow.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your cheek once. “Stay behind me.”

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #transferrable skills #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #kink fics #this turned out so much more humorous than i expected and is so much fun to write #manic pixie dream ghost

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writingwithcolor · 5 months

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Am I handling the black woman character’s murder well?

@selfdxd2 asked:

Hello! My current project is a crime fiction set in KY, USA in which the instigating action is the death of a young black woman (W), with the first half being another young woman (L) investigating her disappearance and how it correlates with the disappearance of her close friend. That friend (P) is later found alive after having been kidnapped because he witnessed the crime, and is the POV character of the second half. He is also a white man, and him being white is relevant to other aspects of the story. My intention is for the "credit" for solving W's death to go almost entirely to L (who is also a woman of color, specifically Romani), and for the tragedy to be centered around the unfair loss of life and the pain of her parents and others who knew W rather than how bad P feels about it. My main cast also has two other prominent black women with arcs that extend outside this tragedy. All of this is intended to lend to one of the story's major themes of social invisibility vs visibility. So does this exploration of that stray into harmful territory from the outset? I know successfully keeping away from any white manpain traps will take active caution while actually writing the story and I intend to get sensitivity readers as I work on it, but I wanted to get some feedback on my starting point before going too far down that road. Thanks so much for all you do!

It is important for us to know why this young Black woman was murdered to give specific advice.

Was it racially motivated, gender motivated, or both?

Wrong place, wrong time?

Did someone take revenge?

Was she involved in something insidious?

Was it truly an accident?

Depending on the reason, you should explore and acknowledge this violence and the existing societal problem behind it. For help, see the crime stats on violence against Black women.

…and for the tragedy to be centered around the unfair loss of life and the pain of her parents and others who knew W rather than how bad P feels about it.

Yes, give a voice to the people most affected by her death. Other Black women, people, and Women of Color. This will help further not make it about the feelings of a white man. He is absolutely a victim of the crime too, being kidnapped, so his trauma does matter and should be tended to. But ultimately, he gets to live.

On that note, his life being worth kidnapping vs. ending begs the question; why wasn’t he murdered while the Black woman’s life had to end? And for representation purposes, why couldn’t it be the other way around (Where the Black woman lives and witnesses the crime, and the white man dies)?

This is why knowing your reasoning for her death is so important.

Otherwise, if she was thoughtlessly murdered, it does feel like her life was incredibly devalued in your story due to her being a Black woman. It’s a serious and true problem, so I'm not saying not to write this. This just needs careful exploring. If you’re choosing to bring this real life problem into your story, it deserves full and respectful acknowledgement.

Please check out our resources on writing tragic material, Black suffering and abuse and avoiding exploitation.

More reading: tragedy exploitation tag

~Mod Colette

#Death #murder #tw #Black women #Black person dies first #Tragedy exploitation #Black suffering

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aesethewitch · 6 months

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Personal Protection: Surviving the Holidays

I'm of the opinion that far too many people around this time of year are fucking around, and it's high time they get to the finding out part. With major holidays right around the corner, many of us will be facing relatives we'd rather not see, parties we'd rather not go to, and conversations we'd rather avoid or exit as soon as possible. Political spats, unwanted opinions, snide remarks -- I believe that what you give out, you ought to receive back.

So, obviously, let's do some magic about it.

There are three main components to my method:

The Bubble;

The Quills; and

The Shake

The Bubble

Exactly what it sounds like, "the bubble" is the outermost layer of protection around you. It's the barrier between you and the unpleasantness you're trying to keep out.

The bubble can be one item carried or worn (such as a hat, crystal, or charm), or it can be multiple. I usually spring for two items, one to absorb/recycle and one to bounce/return to sender.

Absorb:

I've got a relative who is, at their essence, a fucking downer. That would be fine if not for the fact that if they're having a bad time or are mildly uncomfortable, it's about to be everyone's problem. This kind of negativity is something to absorb, not bounce. Sending it back would only double their misery, and that's no good for anyone.

So, instead, I have a special charm that I make for occasions when I know they're going to be around. It consists of a little piece of sponge that's sat in salt for a while atop a transformative sigil. The sponge, once fully charged and ready, will absorb the negative energy and recycle it into more positive feelings.

This means that their negativity won't impact me at all, and I actively improve the atmosphere. Their bad attitude can't do anything if everyone around us is only getting good vibes. The charm is powered by the exchange of negative to positive energy, so it requires no charging. However, it's smart to discard the sponge once it's done its job.

Bounce:

But sometimes, somebody's got to face real consequences. There are some things I don't want to deal with at all. Like gross political opinions from my conservative, religious family members. Or questions about having children.

The idea of the bounce is to reflect things before they reach me. It's a sort of glamor spell that projects an aura of "don't bother." It essentially lets me be passed over for conversations I want to leave or avoid entirely by bouncing attention away from me.

Negative energy, bad vibes, whatever you want to call it -- the goal is to return it to where it's coming from. Someone who's being an asshole will feel like an asshole. If it works right, they'll stop talking altogether because they're so irritated with what they're saying. I've had aggressive, vocal relatives go completely silent because they were receiving their own rancid energy back to themselves instead of the attention they were hoping for.

For me, this spell takes the form of a charm on my keys. It's a form of an evil eye charm -- not the blue-eyed stare you most likely think of, but another symbol meant to distract attention from me to it. It's a little pewter casting of the fig sign, an old and obscene gesture. It works on malevolent spirits best, but it does a great job of repelling unfortunate people, too. It bounces their nonsense back to themselves, often causing confusion, which forces them to reconsider what they're saying.

Again, this lives on my keys, which live in a key bowl when they're not clipped to my pocket or belt loop. The key bowl has a multi-purpose charging setup for the keys, my wallet, and other assorted charms I might wear when I go out.

The Quills

Sometimes, things get past our main line of defenses. That's fine, it happens. But under these circumstances, it happens because someone has deliberately crossed a line. So now, they get the quills.

When I say "the quills," you should be picturing something like a porcupine. Adorable, yes, but fuck with it at your own risk. Those quills aren't just for show, and neither should yours be. This is your second line of defense, and it's where we turn to offense.

Accordingly, the quills aren't passive spells like the bubble. These require conscious activation and direction to give you maximum control over their output. You can make your quills passive, but I often find that baneful workings work best when you're specifically choosing to use them.

Yes, baneful, and let me be perfectly clear: The goal is to harm whoever's crossed the line. You're not just returning to sender. You're catching what they've thrown at you, lighting it on fire, and pitching it back at full force.

To that end, there are two approaches I typically take (and are you sensing a pattern? I like to do things in twos). One spell to sharpen the tongue and give as good as I've gotten, and one to induce the smallest of lingering curses on the target.

Sharpen

The whole point of the quills is to make yourself an inconvenient, difficult target. Part of being difficult to swallow is not going down easily. Often, the answer is to avoid the conversation or problem altogether, but it isn't always possible. Or satisfying.

Sometimes, you gotta take a bitch down.

For me, this charm needs to do two things. It should boost my confidence in standing my ground and add some oomph to my argument. I have a pin with a particular design on it charmed for this purpose. The needle operates as the quill for stabbing (the oomph), and the design provides the confidence. Anointed with my Fuck Off Oil and laid in a dish of salt, garlic, and red chili flakes, the pin becomes extra spicy and effective.

This one has to be recharged each time it's used. It always lives on the same jacket, but I'll anoint it regularly to keep it fresh. If I use the charm on someone, I'll take the pin off at the end of the night and set it in the spicy salt mixture.

Linger

By far one of the most effective methods for reducing nonsense from unpleasant people I interact with regularly is lingering consequences. When someone associates bad luck with interacting with you, even on a subconscious level, they tend to avoid you.

Consider this the "slow poison" on the quills. The goal isn't to ruin their life by any means (although, I suppose you could...). It's just to make yourself unpalatable on an instinctive level. Think of how poisonous frogs are brightly colored to display that they're, you know, deadly. That's what we're doing here.

I prefer to use something kind of dangerous. Something you can hold onto and point with is best, in my experience. I've used a broken piece of glass, a rusty nail or screw, and various thorns. Right now, I'm using one half of a rusty pair of old cooking shears. The handle broke, but the blades are still sharp as hell. Waste not, and all that.

Anoint whatever the sharp, dangerous thing is in an oil infused with herbs and spices of your choice (again, the Fuck Off Oil is a good example). Or, if you prefer, coat it in something like hot sauce, urine, rust, or other corrosive and unpleasant things. Once prepared, stow it in your bag. Or your glove box, if you drive, since this makes a nice on-the-go curse to cast at shitty drivers.

You don't need to pull it out for it to work, but if you can get to a safe, secluded space (like a bathroom), it can help you focus. When you're creating it, you should set up an activation word, phrase, or motion. I prefer a motion -- something like tapping wherever the object is, a swirling movement with my hand, and then pointing at the target.

The curse you place is up to you. I tend to go for something like feeling nauseous or getting a headache. The spell should draw a connection between them being nasty to you and the unpleasant feeling, whether overt or subconscious. They'll be more cautious and reluctant to be a dick to you afterwards.

The Shake

Like a dog. Get that shit off of yourself.

No matter how thorough you are, there are always gaps and particularly stubborn people getting into them. Something they say just sticks to you like a burr, sharp and irritating. Or depressing, maybe.

The idea behind the shake is literal. You're forcibly removing the heavy weight or annoying itch someone else has placed on you. The shake isn't necessarily an item like with the bubble and quills. It can be, but it doesn't have to be.

Essentially, the steps to the shake are:

Identify what feels bad

Shake that shit

Resume normal activities

Maybe it's the neurodivergent in me, but physical movement is incredibly soothing. Self-regulation tactics are essential for survival. Transforming that into a little spell ritual at the same time is just two birds with one stone.

When things get overwhelming or I can feel my bubble failing to keep everything out at once (such as if a fight breaks out or someone decides to go in depth about one of my triggers), I remove myself from the situation. That's the first step. Retreat to a safe place, whether that's outside, in my car, in the bathroom, or elsewhere that's quiet. The second step is to figure out where in my body the anxiety or bad feeling is sitting. Often, it's in my shoulders and hands, but sometimes it's elsewhere.

Step three is to fucking shake. Shake those hands, roll my shoulders, jump up and down. Whatever it takes. As I do, I'm forcibly dislodging everything unpleasant out of myself and into the open air. And because I've got the negativity-absorbing bubble, it'll take the bad feeling and repurpose it into something more positive. Then, once I'm better, I can go back.

Again, you don't need an object for this, but you can certainly create one. Options would be comforting items, fidget toys, or even something like a joint. Sometimes, you just gotta blow smoke about it. You know?

Fun fact, though: You could also carry a vessel to contain the Bad Feelings for later use instead of letting your bubble absorb them. This comes in handy for people who are particularly abusive... as an example of what you want them to experience under the force of a more involved cursing.

If you like my work, consider throwing a tip my way! Supporters get early, exclusive, and extended access to my work for as low as $1.

#aese speaks #witchcraft #witchblr #practical magic #practical witchcraft #personal protection #protection magic #return to sender #energy cleansing #witchcraft 101 #witchy tips #beginner witch #spells #spell ideas

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ionomycin · 19 days

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Hi Io - I love your illustrations and the emotion they evoke. I also really enjoy your color choices. Do you do illustration work professionally?

I wondered if you could offer a piece of advice to someone just starting out on doing commissions. I noticed that your link for commissions goes to a different page. Is this done through Tumblr, or is it a separate domain? Would you mind explaining how you decided on pricing?

Thank you!

Hi, thank you :)

Yes, I'm a full time freelance illustrator for a few years now. My commission page here is quite outdated, completely forgot about it actually so thanks for the remainder to take a look at it...

If you just want to do commissions as a hobby/side-income for private people (no commercial projects), I would start pretty small and simple to get a feel for it. Drawing for someone else is a whole another thing and not everyone enjoys it. I personally always preferred to have very small batches and finish them all before taking new ones to avoid stress on either side. For pricing, you'll likely want to start relatively low and keep it chill and casual in the beginning, but do increase your prices bit by bit as your experience grows. Looking at other artists' prices around similar skill level/style can be a good starting point! It's often a lot of trial and error in the beginning, to find what works for you. It's all about finding a good balance so you both get a good deal out of it!

I used a separate site to list my commission pricing and terms of service, but you can also list them in a post or whatever you prefer, as long as they're clearly available to potential commissioners. You want to make it as easy as possible for them to get all the info and to know where to contact you! Some artists prefer to have forms that people can fill if they want to commission you, whatever works. I prefer to keep it simple.

Best of luck with your commission journey :D

#if you end up not liking it #and find it takes away the joy of art #that is entirely valid #anyone that makes art is an artist #professionals and hobbyists alike #so never feel pressured to monetize what you don't want to #but it really is wonderful to draw people's dear characters #and passion projects #and work together to bring their visions to life #so definitely give it a try!

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latoyalestrange · 1 year

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hi! i love your writing! 🖤 could you do one where sebastian is all jealous when f!mc starts spending a lot of time with another boy, seb says he’s a “bad influence” and she says something like “you taught me all three of the unforgivables seb, if you’re jealous you can admit it” just calling him out

accidentally escalated things near the end. oops?

green is for envy

s. sallow x f!reader

yes i'm using this gif again what about it

summary: you'd been friends with sebastian since your first day at hogwarts. during your seventh year, professor weasley assigns a project to complete alongside garreth, thinking you would be a good influence on him. you only thought of him as a friend, but sebastian didn't see it that way.

words: 3.1k (longest one to date oops)

warnings: aged up seb and mc, pining, jealousy, swearing, smut, unprotected sex pinv, soft!seb, virgin!reader not edited!

when professor weasley said you'd be partnered up with garreth, you were annoyed at first. he had a reputation of putting off assignments that didn't interest him. that of course wouldn't make professor weasley change your partner, so you had to persist anyway.

sebastian was distracted the entire study hall that day. you'd decided to sit with garreth instead of him, wanting to discuss the project. he sat on the opposite side of the great hall to you, your back facing him. he had a clear view of garreth as you talked. he scoffed as he saw the sly expression on the gryffindor's face.

"just look at him, trying to flirt with her. pathetic." if looks could kill, garreth would've been on the floor minutes ago. a searing scowl replaced his normally handsome eyes.

"merlin, i knew this was going to happen." ominis instantly rose out of his seat, closing his book and taking it in his arms.

"where are you going?" his tone was harsh, his mind still on you.

"i'm not going to listen to you mope about this. you've had plenty of chances." he started to take his wand out to light his way out, but sebastian placed his hand on his wrist, halting his movements. if it were anyone but sebastian or you, he would've blasted them with his wand.

"what's that supposed to mean?" his voice softened, almost sounding hurt. ominis sighed and retired his wand back to his pocket.

"i mean you've fancied her for two years and have avoided every possible opportunity to make a move. i wouldn't blame her if weasley was winning her over right now." sebastian's shoulders slumped at his words, looking more defeated than angry.

"i try flirting with her, but it doesn't seem to phase her. what am i supposed to do?" he let his head fall into his hands as he rested his elbows on the sturdy wooden table. ominis rolled his eyes dramatically and returned to his seat.

"you're oblivious, aren't you?" he asked, his voice hushed. sebastian peeked at his friend from behind his hands, his face feeling suddenly feeling warm.

"probably. to what?" ominis bit his lip, trying so hard not to laugh when he was supposed to be annoyed at him.

"she flirts back, you git. she's just not as arrogant as you, she's more shy. when she gets you little sweets from the kitchen, asks you to walk her to hogsmeade, or asks you for help on assignments, she's flirting with you." sebastian looked away for a moment, contemplating what ominis was saying.

"for merlin's sake, has she ever picked someone other than you to duel with? do you notice her doing those things for anyone else? no."

"bloody hell, ominis," he turned to face his friend and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pleading with him. "how do i fix it?" ominis rolled his eyes once more.

"send her an owl. tell her to meet you in the undercroft tonight." sebastian quirked his head to the side, expecting more.

"yes, and then what? fall to my knees and beg for her hand?"

ominis shrugged, "sure, i don't care. just don't break the couch. i like that couch." sebastian shoved him where he sat, withdrawing his hand back to his lap.

"don't speak of her like that. she's a lady." ominis stopped himself from chuckling, but his cheeks flushed a bright red as a knowing smile still shined through. "what's that face for?"

"you should hear some of the things she's said about you in confidence." sebastian's eyes went wide as his friend allowed himself to laugh. he swallowed down hard, his tie feeling much tighter than before. "don't ask, because i won't tell--"

"right, right, of course." sebastian wiped his brow with the back of his hand-- was he sweating? why was it suddenly so hot? and just his luck, you had turned around to check on your friends in that moment. you smiled sweetly at him and waved. with his jaw clenched tightly shut, he painfully waved back at you. you turned back just in time to miss garreth mocking sebastian by waving his fingers and batting his eyelashes. he didn't have the heart to fight him right now, he was already so distraught. he could've had you this entire time.

Undercroft tonight. Urgent.

seeing his lettering on the page made you feel like a giddy schoolgirl. maybe because you were one. you practically skipped down to the undercroft once the common room was clear and your roommate was asleep. part of you knew he was just going to ask for a favor or needed council on something, but another part of you hoped so badly that he just wanted to see you. to be in your presence.

your heart was racing as you were anticipating your answer, the door to the undercroft letting out a series of mechanical clicks as it opened. you stepped through, slowly advancing into the dimly lit room with anticipation. about half of the candles that were usually lit were put out, creating a gloomy orange hue. perhaps he wasn't there yet?

"sebastian?" you looked over the room once more, unable to spot his familiar figure. then, just as you relaxed as you knew you were alone, a pair of firm hands gripped your waist, startling you out of your skin. you gasped instinctively and forced yourself out of their grip, turning around as fast as you could. you let down your defenses as his eyes met yours.

"you have to stop doing that, sebastian. one of these days i'm going to blast you on accident." you placed your hand over your chest that was still heaving from the adrenaline. he was unphased, chuckling at the sight of you. he quickly stopped to place a comforting hand on your arm, rubbing circles with his thumb.

"okay, okay, i'm sorry." a pleased smile still remained on his face as he allowed you to regain your composure.

"you better hope that's not why you sent for me," you teased, fixing your hair slightly, which sebastian took note of.

"absolutely not." there was something behind his eyes that you were trying to decipher. something you'd never seen before. the smirk, sure, he looked at you like that every day, but you could tell that his mind was somewhere different. it made you feel like his prey as he towered over you.

"well go on then, i don't have all night." you folded your arms, but your face was anything but intimidating.

"i'll get to that in a minute. first," he took a small step towards you, his muscular hand still gently resting on the back of your arm. "how was your day? haven't seen you since you ditched me for weasley in study hall." his hand shifted upward and ghosted over your skin until it met your cheek as he delicately brushed the stray strands of your hair behind your ear. you tried to suppress the rouge that unfortunately persisted to your cheeks.

"yeah, i'm sorry about that. i was worried he was going to leave all the work for me, but he actually seems very interested in the project. he even offered to work on it after class with me this week." his hand fell to his side as he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"of course he did." you furrowed your brow at him as he grimaced.

"what does that m--" you cut yourself off as it all started to click in your head. the lighting, the urgent letter, the attitude, everything made sense. "i can't believe it. sebastian sallow is jealous?" to your surprise, he didn't defend himself. in fact, his face was entirely confident.

"so what if i am? he's a bad influence on you."

"really, sebastian? you taught me all three unforgivable curses, the worst that he's done is procrastinate." he took a few steps forward, returning to your comfortable proximity.

"it's not what he's done, it's what he'll do. or rather, what he can't do." you found his hands palming the sides of your arms again, squeezing gently.

"yeah? and what's that?" you pushed through the sickening feeling of your stomach fluttering and looked up at him innocently, something you knew for a fact affected him. he met your gaze hungrily, then shifted down to your lips.

"there's absolutely no world in which garreth weasley can treat you better than i can." your breath stalled as he loomed over you, unable to find your words. it felt like he moved in slow motion as he brought his hand up to your cheek, palming your blushing skin. his amber eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation. when he found none, he still waited for a moment, just breathing heavily with you. unable to hold back any longer, he connected your lips in a firm, but romantic kiss, tangling his fingers in your hair and letting his other hand pull you in by your waist. your arms eventually settled around his neck when he didn't pull away. he greedily snaked his arm around your back, bringing you further into him.

when you finally came up for air, he only trailed his lips further down until they were attacking the crook of your neck. you lips flushed and swollen, you still had the mind to tease him.

"is this what was so urgent, sallow?" he paused, and you could feel his devilish smile against your skin.

"maybe." he straightened his spine and composed himself a bit. "is that a problem?"

you shook your head, "not at all." you found your hands grasping at his neck and hair, desperate for contact. he obliged and pressed a gentle peck to your lips before retracting once more.

he sighed, "i want to do this right. come here." he directed you to the couch and sat opposite to you with your hands in his.

"are you sure this is what you want?" he didn't have to say it. the both of you knew exactly what was on the other's mind. you nodded softly, your doe eyes making him feel guilty for ruining such a pure thing with his touch. "i need you to say it."

"yes, sebastian, i'm sure." he returned the nod, looking as if he were going to burst at the seams if he didn't get some kind of release.

"okay," he breathed out heavily. "if you want me to stop at any point, just tell me."

he knew you were a virgin. there was no way someone had touched you and he didn't hear about it. you told him everything. so to say he was nervous was an understatement. perhaps more nervous than he was during his first time. he couldn't take something so precious and mess it up in the process. he needed this to be perfect for you.

he started with another gentle kiss while he refrained from letting his hands roam your body. you were disappointed when he stopped to fidget with the buttons on your uniform vest. he took his time, unhooking each one and licking his lips as he watched you toss it to the floor and start on your blouse underneath. he helped you shimmy out of your skirt and you were suddenly entirely exposed for him.

"lie back," he shifted, facing you as you let your head rest on the couch arm behind you. "just relax, okay?" he sensed tension in your stomach as he allowed his hands to needily search your body, wanting to memorize every dip and curve. he peppered loving kisses all down your stomach, stopping at the hem of your underwear. your skin felt like it was burning underneath his lips, sending electricity through your legs. he hooked his fingers under the band and slowly pulled down. you lifted your bottom half to aid him, your legs shaking as you did so. you felt so vulnerable as he took in the sight of your naked body. his eyes devoured you as he bit his lip desperately.

you let your gaze drift to the ceiling as he trailed kisses along the inside of your thigh, leaving purple marks with every few. you couldn't contain your voice, feeling so incredibly sensitive.

"probably never been touched like this, hm?" his mouth was still buried in the plush skin of your thighs.

you shook your head, "nuh uh." just as you answered, he dove straight into your core, gently circling your bundle of nerves. your back instantly arched into the couch and he forced your hips back down with his hands. your own clenched tightly at your sides, unsure of where you should put them. he noticed and placed them in his hair, encouraging you to grip onto the strands. you followed, using some of the pent up tension on his locks. he groaned, the vibration overwhelming you further.

"oh, sebastian!" your eyes screwed shut tightly as you tried your very best not to scream. everything felt so good, too good. your knees clenched around his face, which seemed to just encourage him. luckily, he came up for air, but only for a moment before he slowly pushed a finger into your heat that was already dripping. you stretched around his digit, making his pants even tighter than before. you let out a guttural moan, throwing your head back into the cushions.

"fuck, you're so tight." he couldn't help but grind his hips into the couch in search of some for of relief. after a few pumps, he added another and he could feel you starting to come undone around them. in hopes to not overwhelm you further, he retracted both of his fingers and began trailing kisses up your tummy, in between the valley of your breasts, all the way up to your lips. you could taste yourself on him, unsure if you should find it as attractive as you did. he paused to half-undress himself, leaving him in an unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled tie. you took the opportunity to pull him toward you, connecting your lips in a heated exchange.

"eager, are we?" he teased, going back to kissing your neck. you nodded, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "don't tempt me. i don't want to hurt you." you blush deepened at his caring words as you felt his hardness press in between your legs. almost as an instinct, your back arched against him as you lifted your hips to meet his. he growled in your ear, sending a chill down your spine. he quickly planted a hand next to your head to hold himself up as he rubbed his tip against your slick entrance. you could feel the nervous pit in your stomach return as you looked down to watch.

"eyes on me, love. eyes on me." you felt his hand force your gaze upwards to meet his own. he placed one last gentle kiss on your lips before letting himself sink into you. keeping eye contact, he watched you unravel beneath him, unable to contain your moans any longer. he slowly bottomed out inside of you and stopped there, letting you adjust to his size.

"i know, i know. you're doing so good, darling," he cooed sweetly in your ear, a complete contrast to the sounds coming from you. he finally found his pace, an agonizingly slow one at that.

"sebastian, please!" you could feel tears start to brim your eyes from the frustration.

"please, what? tell me, princess." his sultry tone could've drove you mad.

"more, seb, please-- i want more!" he chuckled mischievously in your ear, lifting himself to face you again. the look in his eyes was almost scary. he quickly snaked an arm under your hips to angle them upwards, and placed his other hand on your lower stomach, pressing down gently. unsure but trusting, you closed your eyes as he aligned himself again. his pace wasn't rough by any means, but it was firm, and your cries were louder than ever before. you'd never felt anything like it before. your stomach felt like a spring that was so tightly wound that it could burst at any moment.

"oh, yes!" with each thrust you felt closer and closer to euphoria, all of your senses were drowned out by what he was doing to you.

"it's okay, i got you. let it happen." his voice was broken as he was close to his own release. he dipped his head down to push through it, sending the two of you over the edge and then some. warm tears finally fell down your cheeks as you let go, a blur of his name and other curses falling from your swollen lips. with one last go, he emptied himself inside of you.

"feels so fucking good...fuck." he fell into a heap on top of you, his warm body trapping you on the couch. not like you could move anyway. you felt stuck, your chest heaving with his.

"i'm sorry i didn't do that earlier." he admitted, his head resting on your torso. you were finally able to giggle, smoothing his disheveled hair down.

"it's okay." he sighed at your words, it wasn't okay. he placed another gentle kiss on your chest before pulling himself off of you to remove his dress shirt and tie entirely, leaving him in his shorts.

"can i get you some water?" he rose to his feet and trailed off to a dark corner to retrieve a blanket.

you shook your head once more, "nuh uh. can you just hold me?" he smiled sweetly at you as he returned, unfolding the blanket to drape around his shoulders before he sat on the couch again.

"of course." he opened his arms for you as he stretched his legs out next to you. you happily accepted the offer and found yourself engulfed in his warm, muscular arms with the blanket trapping the heat in around you.

"it's not okay, y/n." you quickly looked up to analyze the expression on his face. he looked remorseful.

"i could've said something too. i just had no idea you thought of me that way-- this way."

"that's my point exactly. i was sending mixed signals. but no more of that, okay? we tell each other absolutely everything from now on." you chuckled and nestled into him, feeling more comfortable than ever before.

"agreed."

you spent the rest of the night wrapped up in his arms on the couch.

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neptuneiris · 9 months

Text

brooklyn baby (03/?)

look at us, you and i, back at it again

pairing: rockstar!aemond × fem!reader

summary: another party, a group of friends and the spin the bottle game takes you back to aemond.

word count: 9.3k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

here another chapter, long but necessary, I'm really enjoying writing this story and I hope you also like it a lot. I look forward to your comments, thanks for all the support my loves, enjoy!

warnings: alcohol, language, mention of weed.

You let out a huge sigh of frustration and instantly stop typing, close your eyes and bring your hands to the back of your neck, not understanding what the fuck is wrong with you.

Oh but you do know.

Your funny mind tells you, only making you more frustrated and angry with yourself, as it is right because you do know what exactly is wrong with you. And what's wrong with you has a name: Aemond Targaryen.

It's going to be a whole week since that kiss and what a kiss... happened. You haven't seen him again but it's all constantly replaying in your mind, unable to avoid it and unable to stop.

All this week you have been trying to distract yourself with all your college homework, this important project is an example, but you always come back to think about him.

And you don't understand why, rather why that kiss and that moment with him is affecting you so much when it was just a kiss, yes, with a handsome guy who plays in a band, but nothing more than just a kiss happened.

However... you remember perfectly the feeling of his lips against yours, his hands caressing your face and body, also the way he pressed himself against you and sent waves of pleasure to your core.

Stop it!

You scold yourself, not being able to think about it here, in the school library, not when the simple memory of how he felt against you... right now makes you feel things you shouldn't feel in this place, at all.

You grimace, giving yourself a moment, because yes, it all felt great, the kiss was amazing, the feeling, everything... but a deep part of you tells you that you shouldn't have allowed it.

Maybe you didn't fuck with him but still, you've become just another girl who like all of them, fell easily at his feet. Even after seeing him like that with one of his fans, which tells you it's not the first time he's done it and after feeling disappointed, ignoring him and so on, you still reciprocated his kiss.

You get frustrated again, telling yourself that enough is enough and go back to work, no longer wanting to think about him and that kiss, focusing and getting serious about your project.

It takes you all afternoon and a small part of the evening to finally finish and you head back to your apartment, ending another stressful week and having no more worries, so you can rest now.

You let out a long sigh of relief as the warmth of your home envelops you, feeling so good to be back here and have no more worries, as you head to the kitchen and drop your backpack on the small island, thinking about what you can prepare to eat and then go to your room and watch a TV show or movie.

"Hi," says someone suddenly behind you.

You move as fast as your body allows you and completely scared you look at your living room behind you, where very comfortably on one of your sofas sits Baela, with her phone in hand and innocently eating some strawberries, which are in fact yours because you bought them two days ago when you went to the supermarket.

"W-what..." you stare at her blankly, your heart rate being faster than normal, "What are you doing here?"

"I texted you," she says still unconcerned, raising her phone, "I told you I'd be waiting for you here."

"But..." you look at her completely confused, "How did you get in? In fact, how come you and Rhaena can come in here? I have my keys, I-I don't....

"I made them a copy about a month ago," she interrupts you to answer, still unconcerned.

"What?" you snap, confused, "How?"

She shrugs.

"I know someone. And you didn't even notice."

You continue to stare at her completely confused, then let out a long breath and continue to try to control your heart rate, the feeling of being scared still not completely gone.

"God, you almost scared me to death," you look at her serious.

"Oh how dramatic," she rolls her eyes at you, "Anyway, come here."

You continue to watch her seriously, as you reluctantly make your way over to her to take a seat on your single couch, only to have your gaze fall on your bowl of strawberries that she is eating so placidly

"And those strawberries are mine," you snap at her.

She frowns at you.

"I'll buy you more, selfish."

You continue to stare at her for a few more seconds.

"Well? What's going on?" you watch her expectantly.

"There's a frat party tomorrow, the leader is a friend of mine, his name is William."

She starts to tell you and you instantly look away from her, understanding where she's going with this, as you let out a long breath and drop your head back against the back of the couch, closing your eyes.

"I invited Jace, I told him if he wanted he could invite his cousins and he said yes, they'll be there. So go prepare another one of your sexy outfit's."

"I'm not going," you tell her instantly, with resignation.

"What?" she also says instantly with surprise and confusion, "What are you talking about? And now why not?"

"I don't want to go."

She looks at you with her mouth wide open.

"B-but... are you crazy? Your sexy guitarist will be there," she says indignantly, "This is another great opportunity for you to see him again."

"It doesn't matter, I don't want to."

"What do you mean you don't want to!?"

She exclaims to you totally confused and without understanding anything, leaving the bowl with strawberries aside to give you all her attention, while you continue firm with your words and with the decision more than taken, from now on thinking that whatever she tells you, she won't make you change your mind.

What happened with Aemond... you don't want to say it was a mistake but it shouldn't have happened either. You've already become just another one of the crowd and if you see him again, you're afraid you won't be able to stop again and you really don't want that.

You don't want to take things any further... you don't want to 'officially' become another one of the crowd if he and you... get involved in that way.

"I'm not understanding anything," Baela says frustrated, "You don't want to see him again?"

"Baela, I don't want to see him again because I don't want to become another girl in his pile," you say seriously.

"W-what?" she says more confused than before, "Wait, what do you mean? Why do you say that? Did something happen with him that you haven't told me? Because I swear I don't understand anything."

"We kissed at Jason's party," you tell her suddenly, surprising her, "And I let it happen just when earlier at the after party I saw him going into the bathroom with one of his fans."

Baela, still surprised, softens her whole face now in understanding, but still surprised, while you affirm to her with your gaze that it is true, with your disappointed and serious face.

"It just happened. I couldn't help it," you tell her frustrated, bringing your hands back to your face, "But I felt so disappointed and so... stupid," you let out a long breath, "When I saw him like that, I understood that it's not the first time he's done it and I also understood why he gave me so much attention that time in Brooklyn. And I gave him exactly what he wanted at the party and he didn't even make any effort," you place a sour look, "And who could tell him no? Of course no one."

Baela lets out a long breath, watching you sadly.

"Y/N...

"I was so naive. I should have known," you interrupt her, "He's very handsome and plays in a band, it was clear he had thousands of girls after him and now... he only wants me as a one-night stand, then he'll ignore me and I'm really not interested to go back to being just another one of the crowd."

"But..." Baela watches you intently and hopefully, "Are you sure about what you saw? Maybe you misunderstood."

"They went into the men's room together, Baela, just him and that girl," you tell her obviously, "And they didn't go in together to play cards, did they?"

Baela doesn't say anything more, she just lowers her gaze and seems to think, trying to find an explanation, when there is no clear explanation other than that. And just like you... she feels disappointed.

Aegon looks like that kind of guy, in fact he is that kind of guy, but Aemond? Even she didn't expect it, though she knows you're right, both and Rhaena as well should have known since he's absolutely handsome and can easily afford that.

And she has no idea how to defend him, so she totally understands your disappointment and that you now want to keep your distance, being the best thing, because that's what she would do too if she were in your place.

"So your love novel with the sexy guitarist is over?" she asks you sad and disappointed.

"Yeah," you mumble, "As handsome as he is, I'm not interested if things are going to be like this."

She lets out another long breath again, resigned.

"Fine, then we won't mention the sexy guitarist anymore."

You place a sad little smile.

"But at least you and Rhaena got lucky and the thing with Jace and Luke is serious."

"I wouldn't call it serious," she says thoughtfully, with a grimace, "I mean, we're not seeing anyone else but... yeah," she shrugs, "Things are getting there."

You feel happy for them, they know it, so you don't say anything else, neither does Baela and the two of you sink into a comfortable silence that is all over your apartment, while you stare at a specific spot in your living room, thinking about everything and yet nothing, while Baela continues to eat from your strawberries, also thoughtful and still feeling disappointed.

Then you start to think again about what you are going to prepare to eat and also what movies you will decide to watch, whether suspense, science fiction, love or massacre.

"Don't you want grapes?"

Baela asks you suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts, as you see how the bowl in her lap is already empty.

"I have some in my fridge. I can pay you with them for the strawberries."

You watch her slightly amused for a moment, then let out a small laugh and nod.

Unfortunately for you, your Friday night goes by fast, where all you did was stay in bed watching a movie marathon with Baela of love being the final decision, whether it was Me Before You, Love Rosie, Midnight Sun, Two Feet Apart, also Nerve and the first Maze Runner movie.

Until you wake up, it's Saturday, Baela is gone and you actually read her message telling you that she has returned to her apartment.

You stay in bed all morning, not really doing anything important, until you get up, take a shower, make yourself a meal and go back to bed with a bowl of chips, ready to continue with the next episode of Gossip Girl.

It's the third time you're re-watching the show but you don't care.

Then you fall asleep and when the sound of your phone wakes you up, you see through your windows all the dark sky, while everything inside your room is reflected by the light of the TV and also by the New York buildings that surround you with their light windows and give that so well known nocturnal characteristic of the city.

You let out a yawn, realizing that your nap has gone on too long when you turn on your phone screen and see that it is almost nine o'clock at night

You strain your eyes and watch more closely as Baela has texted you, as have some of your classmates, but it's the weekend and you don't want to worry about anything at school right now, so you read Baela's message.

baela🐬: are you sure you don't want to come?

You frown.

You: where are you?

And she replies back instantly.

baela🐬: at will's party

And she sends you a picture of her with Rhaena and Luke, while you distinguish Jace's figure a bit off in the background, preparing a drink, while there are colored lights and a bunch of other people, so you remember him and you also remember that he must be there too.

You: have fun

But as soon as you send the message, Baela reads it and quickly responds.

baela🐬: he's not here👀

And this immediately catches your attention, frowning again and then answering and waiting for an attentive response.

You: why not?

baela🐬: everyone came except him and daeron. jace said they both decided to stay home.

You watch with your narrowed eyes the message, questioning Baela's words and not quite believing her.

You: are you lying and this is one of your plans to get him and I to see each other?

baela🐬: 🙄

baela🐬: after what you told me do you think I would do that to you?

You press your lips together, as you let out a long breath, since she is right. Baela can be very insistent but when you finally make her understand that no is no, she stops.

You: send me the address

You say finally, having made up your mind, needing to go out and have fun after such a stressful week, as if all your weeks are not the same, and then you leave your phone on the bed and get up to get ready.

You take advantage of the fact that he's not there, because then you won't have to be worrying about being in the same place as him after what happened between the two of you and you can actually have fun.

From your closet you choose an all-black dress that fits your body perfectly, with straps and comes to mid-thigh. You decide to wear it with a pair of boots without a platform since you will get tired if you wear the high platform ones. (click here)

You discard one of your jackets as you know it won't be necessary in a crowd of people so you go on to do your make-up, this time putting on a matte flesh colored lipstick and leaving your hair straight with two strands together in the middle of your head.

Once you're ready, you call for an Uber, since Baela has taken the car and not long after, you find yourself entering the party.

You spot a few of your classmates as you enter the huge house, greeting them, greeting Baela's friends that she introduced you to and even crossing paths with Jason who is with Cregan and Alysanne.

You ask for your cousins and find them near the kitchen, each one talking to their respective boy, while on your way to them you meet Aegon, although he doesn't see you, as he is sticking his tongue down the throat of a blonde girl.

You watch him slightly surprised and amused by such a scene, until you finally reach your cousins.

Rhaena pulls you into a huge hug, instantly telling you that you look amazing with a smile, to which you also say the same, also to Baela, then greeting Jace and Luke, Jace quickly offering to make you a drink.

"Have you guys been here long?" you ask them over the music.

"Not long. About an hour ago," Rhaena answers you.

"So? What's the news?"

"Nothing new, you know," Baela tells you smiling, "We were actually thinking of playing beer pong."

"Oh, great. I want to play the first round," you say instantly, ready to start enjoying the party.

Just then Jace returns with your drink, you thank him and the five of you start setting up for the game, beginning first by playing one-on-one and then two-on-two.

Laughter and excitement invades the five of you every time the ball goes in or out of the red cups, having a good time, forgetting about the outside world for a while and enjoying these moments.

Other people at the party also join in to play, making it all even more fun, Rhaena already starting to get a little drunk, as are you, though not too much.

Then the five of you decide to go dancing along with all the other people, shouting, singing and enjoying all the songs while Rhaena records and takes some pictures, while you already start to feel the alcohol taking effect a bit more, letting you get more into the moment, really enjoying it.

Until you start to get a bit left over among the four of you as Baela starts to dance very close with Jace, both in their own world, also Rhaena with Luke, both still shy but getting more and more confident.

Still it doesn't bother you, you dance alone and even join in with another group of girls dancing nearby, singing with them.

You then accompany Rhaena along with Luke back to the kitchen to hydrate a bit, you also deciding to drink water this time because of how hot the house already feels, and then Baela and Jace join in as well, the five of them taking a break.

They both offer to prepare more drinks, while you go for your fourth beer, staying a moment alone with your cousins.

"So? Has anything happened between you and Luke yet?" you ask her interested, with a small smile.

And of course, Rhaena blushes and smiles shyly.

"We kissed."

"At Jason's party?"

"Yes and also a while ago," she tells you clearly controlling her excitement, "I don't know, I feel like we're going slow but sure."

"Better that than going fast," Baela tells her, nodding in her direction.

"You go fast with Jace," you tell her amused, laughing.

"That's not true," she gets indignant, "We've only kissed."

"Oh so you didn't take him to your apartment when Jason's party was over?" you inquire, expectantly.

Immediately she looks at Rhaena completely serious and more indignant than before.

"You were the gossip?"

"I didn't say anything!" she tells her instantly, "Besides it was obvious. I slept with Y/N because there was no way I was going to sleep on your couch to listen to your sounds."

You let out a huge laugh, as Baela reluctantly takes a sip from her beer bottle.

"Well, it's true, we're going fast but we've both been clear and know what we want."

"Thank God," you nod to her then let out a long breath, putting on your thoughtful face, excited and sad at the same time, "I admired you guys," you mumble, looking out into the beyond, "I would have wanted to have the same luck."

"Oh come on, don't say that," Rhaena tells you instantly with a soft look.

"Yeah, it wasn't like….

Start to say Baela too, but she stops mid-sentence, drawing her sister's attention and yours too, while you see how she stands watching behind you completely static, surprised and a bit fearful.

You exchange confused glances with Rhaena, who stares at her sister as if she is completely mad.

"What? What's wrong?"

She tells her but Baela doesn't react, so Rhaena also looks to where she's watching and her reaction is also the same, instantly looking surprised at who knows what, annoying you because they don't say anything.

"But what the hell is wrong with you guys?"

You inquire them without understanding, confused, to follow the same gaze as both of them, watching behind you and then… now you understand.

You part your lips and watch with your eyes wide open as Daeron and Aemond make their way through the entire party, instantly drawing everyone's attention, but more so the girls specifically, beginning to feel your heart start to beat fast as you watch them.

Incredulous and confused you don't understand anything, seeing how he is here, when he wasn't supposed to come, all the memories of that almost kiss and then the kiss invading your mind instantly, also the memory of his hips pressing against you.

Fuck.

That's all you can think of as you watch him, standing there, walking among all the people in that alluring way of his, as if he owned the whole place, yet with his unconcerned look and deliberately ignoring all the girls watching him interested.

Then you look again at your cousins, who look back at you still surprised.

"What is he doing here?"

You inquire, at that moment realizing the panic that begins to invade your whole body, since you were supposed to come here because he wouldn't be here.

"How should I know?" Baela tells you instantly, looking just as worried as you, "Jace said they weren't coming, that's why I texted you."

Still panicking, you go back to watching him, still being the center of attention along with Daeron, who smiles at everyone and looks more than willing to start having a good time, while you couldn't say the same for Aemond, but still he's here.

You look away, let out a huge sigh and take a huge gulp from your beer bottle, resigned.

Aemond.

Aemond has never felt more tired in his life.

Constantly moving from one side to the other for the tour, having five-hour rehearsals during the week and on weekends attending concerts along with the after party and finishing very late to be the same routine the next day, he doesn't find time to rest properly.

He sees how his brothers and his cousins, actually nephews, do everything, they look happy, like new and he... doesn't. Rather, he feels exhausted.

It's not that he doesn't like what he does, on the contrary, he loves playing guitar and giving a good show, but he wishes that's all it would be.

Criston, his manager, insists that he must spend time with the fans, since after all they are the reason why they are successful and can play their concerts, but he, not that he is ungrateful, in fact he does spend time with them… but to a certain point.

He can take pictures and sign his autograph in a pleased and calm way, also receive gifts like necklaces or bracelets from them, he really appreciates those gestures. But when the girls get too intense and start touching him, also invading his personal space too much… that's when the discomfort begins.

He understands that they feel very excited, but there are limits and many of them do not respect them by wanting to act as if they have known him all their lives and believe they have a certain right over him.

Also social media, if it were up to him, he wouldn't have it, he really doesn't like it and prefers the real world. But Criston insisted that he do it for the band, agreeing to at least have Instagram account.

He got used to it soon after by posting promotional photos, whether it was of a new single, a new music video or a new album, also from the tour. Then he only started posting behind-the-scenes photos of his brothers and nephews, also of the cities he was traveling to, but nothing else.

Also the invasion of his privacy by fans was something he didn't like at all, however, like his brothers and nephews, he had to learn to deal with it.

Sometimes he thinks about what would have happened if he had decided to go to college, definitely another story of his life would be, but honestly… he can't imagine himself not being this, a musician.

However, he didn't think that following Aegon's idea about forming a band would be so heavy and bring so much questioning about his life and what he does.

At least the tour ends in New York after having traveled half the country, where his mother and family live, also where he has his own apartment, just like Aegon.

And the first two concerts are in Queens, then they will play in three different clubs in Brooklyn and finally they will play two more concerts in Manhattan.

There is nothing new, only the public reacts differently when the dates of the last concerts start, Queens actually being very quiet and more pleasant for him, but not for Aegon, who complained about the lack of excitement from the fans and that the girls practically didn't jump on him.

And of course, Jace and Daeron had to agree with him.

Then Brooklyn, the first concert being exactly what Aegon expected, all the girls screaming, lots of energy in the audience and on stage, lots of noise and a whole scandal.

And the second concert is the same, until finally something interesting happens at the after party when he almost makes that fan lose her balance and doesn't jump the second she sees him walk out of that room, being you.

Aemond was so used to any girl practically jumping on him and doing everything to get his attention, but not you. And he knew because you're not really a fan.

But still, you surprised him by the way you are.

He was surprised that you were somehow understandable to him to be hiding from the fans for a while and that you didn't judge him, also that you weren't playing dumb to get his attention, that you didn't instantly react to him after he decided to push you a little, you just were honest at all times and gave him his space.

And you got his attention a lot in just a matter of moments. And Aemond in that instant knew… he wanted, no, he needed to see you again.

He had never given free tickets to anyone before, you just happened to be an exception, in fact he didn't have permission to do that, but he didn't care and luckily no one noticed, least of all Criston.

He really wanted you to take something from the concert back home, so he genuinely didn't make you both go into that room to take advantage of the fact that you were both alone and get something more from you, no, he really did it out of kindness.

But as the seconds passed and the conversation extended, he couldn't help but think what it would feel like to kiss you, to feel you, to touch you. And when he saw that you also began to respond in the same way, that's when he decided to make the move.

It would have happened, had it not been for Aegon, of course.

After you thanked him and left embarrassed, Aegon gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder, telling him that had he known, he wouldn't have interrupted him, but that Criston was going to go mad if he didn't go out and talk to the fans.

In the days that followed he never stopped thinking about you, much less when he found out that Jace and Luke were texting your cousins, so he was looking forward, even if he didn't realize it, to the concert in Manhattan.

But what a great disappointment he felt when he saw your cousins, but not you.

Originally he didn't plan to find out what had happened to you, but when he was at the bar with your cousins, he couldn't contain himself any longer and asked them both where you were.

After that, the stress came back.

With the last concert coming up, the whole band had to rehearse longer hours than usual every day until the day of the concert, Aegon insisting that he wanted everything to be perfect, following Criston's idea, as it had to be unforgettable.

They were going to take a break for a month, then they would play more concerts in New York and in the closest surrounding areas of the state such as Pennsylvania, Maryland, New Jersey, Connecticut, Rhode Island and Massachusetts.

Aemond tried not to think about you anymore, because after you didn't go to the concert, he began to understand that he would probably never see you again.

Then the last concert started and all the pressure he had on him he felt more at that moment, knowing perfectly well that he couldn't make a mistake, focusing all the time on his notes and especially on his solos.

He couldn't relax, not even with the cigarette, keeping in mind that after this he would have to focus on the fans, when all he wanted was to finally rest and not worry about more concerts, feeling very tired.

That's why he did what he did.

After spending only a few minutes with the fans, returning to the room, he had to leave almost immediately on Criston's orders, but on his way out he saw a very excited fan already at the door asking him for a picture.

It was enough to observe her from head to toe and then tell her to follow him, going directly to the men's room where the girl did not even ask a question since it was quite clear the intention and she did not say no either.

When was the last time he had done this? At the last concert in Portland, Oregon.

He knew Aegon did it too, but he wasn't more frequent than he was, since he only did it when he felt the need too much due to stress and frustration, as in those moments.

He fucked her from behind, fast and hard, not needing foreplay as she was completely wet. He didn't touch her except from the waist and nothing else, she wanted to kiss him and touch him but he didn't let her. He just needed to release.

Neither of them needed to take off their clothes either, she had a skirt on and that made everything faster, just like he wanted. Then he came out of the bathroom first after cleaning up, telling the girl to get out of here without anyone seeing her, to go back to the center of the pub, where he met Aegon.

When then he saw you.

Surprise came over him completely, definitely not expecting to see you, barely realizing that you had seen the concert and that you had been here the whole time.

And after you made no move to approach him, completely ignoring his gaze on you and also as if he wasn't in the same place as you, he understood that you knew what he had done.

You had seen him and he couldn't help but get more frustrated about it.

The boys had mentioned a party, Jace most of all, saying that Baela, your cousin, had invited them. He had from the beginning thought about not going and in fact wasn't going to, but after seeing you… he decided to join in as well.

Throughout the party it became clearer to him that you had definitely seen him and so you continued to ignore him, which made him frustrated but he also understood you.

However, had he known you were there, the first thing he would have done was to try to get close to you and what he did with that girl he would never have considered.

Until finally things turn out in his favor on that balcony.

From the beginning he told himself that he wasn't going to ruin this opportunity to talk to you by being left alone and that he wasn't going to bring up the subject so as not to make you feel uncomfortable by his actions… unless you decided to talk about it.

And he thought the two of you would just talk and nothing more, but the moment he started testing the waters just out of curiosity and also because he wanted to, of course, you started responding in the same way, just like in Brooklyn and he felt very lucky to finally feel your lips against his.

What came next was not intentional, but his emotions began to make him let himself go and you were very responsive at all times to his touch, only driving him crazier.

He enjoyed the moment and very much, loving every second of it, of feeling your lips, your body, your hands on his face and neck, everything, only leaving him wanting more when the moment was interrupted.

But you looked absolutely beautiful with that look of desire, your red, swollen lips, watching him with that slight glow in your eyes, the lights of the huge buildings illuminating both of them, you.

And Aemond at that moment only felt more the need to see you again.

Unfortunately nothing more happened between you and him that night, both of you couldn't be together anymore because afterwards Luke and Daeron started feeling sick from all the drinking, Daeron especially started throwing up in the bathroom and could barely stand up by himself.

Aemond had to take care of him and they left the party.

Afterwards neither he nor you tried to communicate after what happened, he mostly didn't do it so as not to overwhelm you and not to make you feel pressured, so he preferred to give you your space until you had processed what happened and that you wouldn't consider him an intense for wanting to see you again.

But how he wanted to see you again and he understood that he wouldn't until his nephews and your cousins planned something. However, when Jace told them about a frat party, he told you that Baela didn't mention you when he asked her with whom she was going.

So he decided not to go and went to visit his mother, who has her own apartment also on the Upper East Side and Daeron lives with her, however, because his little brother was grounded after his mother saw him in that state last time, he managed to convince her to lift his grounding.

And now they're both there, in the living room, as their mother prepares to go to a dinner party for her work and Daeron insists that he take him to that party.

"We won't say anything to Mom, she says I'm still too young to go to frat parties."

"And she's right," he replies, disinterested.

"Oh come on, the party last time was a frat party."

"It was in an apartment, not a house," he clarifies.

"But it was still a college party!"

"Then you must not have had too much to drink and that's why I don't want to go to this party if I'm going to have to babysit you afterwards," he tells him seriously.

"Oh, what a bullshit," he tells him indignantly, "We both know and in fact everyone knows that you don't want to go to that party because your girl from the other night won't go."

"Keep messing with me and I'm not taking you to any more parties," he warns him.

"But you don't want to take me to this one!" he tells him again indignantly, "Come on dude, I really want to go."

"Then go," he says confused, "I don't understand why you want me to go with you."

"And how am I supposed to go by myself? Flying?"

He lets out a long breath, starting to get irritated.

"I already told you no, Daeron."

"Please."

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

"But…

"No."

"Dude…

"No."

"Let's go to the party and I won't tell Criston that you gave free tickets to that girl and Jace and Luke's girls."

Then Aemond's gaze immediately refocuses on Daeron, who crosses his arms and watches him expectantly, completely serious and more than willing with his threat.

"The others didn't notice but I did," he lets him know, smiling with superiority, "Those tickets were for some friends of Criston's and he asked me to take them to him. And what a coincidence that they were gone right after you and Aegon left the room."

"It could have been Aegon," he tells her serious.

"Aegon loses his own things because he doesn't remember where he put them and you think he's going to know where those tickets were kept?" he asks her confused.

Aemond lets out a long sigh, as he looks away from him, looking clearly annoyed.

"You fucking little demon."

Reader.

The bottle game and seven minutes in paradise.

That's what everyone wants to play, being Baela's idea mainly, while she insists you to join, telling you it will be fun, while all the participants, Cregan, Jason, Alysanne, Rhaena, Luke and Jace of course, also the leader of the fraternity and Baela's friend William, wait in his room.

But you really don't like that game, the last time you played that, already many months ago also at a party, it wasn't very nice.

"Come on," Baela insists you pleadingly for what you think is the eleventh time.

"I told you, I'll be there with you but I'm not going to play," you tell her tired.

"That's not the point. You have to play, come on," she insists again.

"Baela," you look at her irritated.

"And I promise I won't sneak back into your apartment. Let alone steal food from you again," she says instantly, hopefully.

And at this you raise one of your eyebrows in her direction, expectantly.

"And will you give me the copy you clandestinely took from my key?"

She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. It's at my house, I'll give it to you later."

"Are you sure about that?" you inquire with an obvious look.

At this she doesn't say or do anything to you, as you point to her bag with your gaze and then extend your hand, gesturing to her with your fingers, clearly waiting, while Baela is left with no other choice.

She lets out a resigned and irritated sigh, then reluctantly from her purse she pulls out the key to your apartment, handing it to you in the same manner.

"There. Happy?"

You smile pleased, putting it in your purse.

"Yes, very," you tease.

"Okay, now come on," she insists, taking you by the arm.

"Wait, the brownie."

You head over to the island in the huge kitchen, grabbing a brownie from a clear box right there.

"You're really going to eat that?" she asks you curiously, with a small smile, as she crosses her arms.

"It's not for me, it's…

"Hello ladies!"

Three platinum heads approach you, this immediately catching your attention, feeling incredibly nervous the second you see it's Aemond, already watching you.

You bite your lips and avert your gaze instantly, trying not to look nervous and not letting those thoughts from before invade you, focusing on Aegon and Daeron, but Aegon more so since he pretty much always speaks for everyone.

"Y/N!" he exclaims in surprise, with a huge grin, "I hadn't seen you. I thought you hadn't come."

"You were busy when I arrived," you tell him with a nervous little smile.

"I was?" he says confused and you nod, "I don't remember. Anyway, what are you two doing? My little cousins weren't with you?"

"They're upstairs, we're going to play spin the bottle and seven minutes in paradise, do you want to join?"

Baela asks them instantly, turning to the three of them with a smile, while you quickly look at her almost wanting to murder her at that moment, but you stay neutral and wait for him to say no.

"Yeah, sure," Daeron says instantly.

"I'm in," Aegon assures you as well, sliding over to you, pointing his index finger at the brownie in your hand, "Are you going to eat that? Because it's calling me."

"They're of weed," you clarify to him.

"Weed?" he repeats in surprise, "Wow Y/N, I didn't think you were that kind of girl," he tells you as he crosses his arms and watches you with a half smile.

"It's not for me, it's for Cregan, he asked for it," you tell him amused.

"Cregan?" he instantly inquires, "Cregan Stark, my man? He's here too?"

"I thought you saw him when you arrived," Baela tells her confused, "He's up there too, he's going to play with us."

"And why didn't you say that before? Then let's go!" he says instantly, grabbing Daeron by the shoulder and starting to hurry out of the kitchen towards the stairs, when he stops to turn back to you, "Give it to me, I'll give it to him," he takes the brownie from your hand and resumes his walk, "Hurry up," he urges you all, then asks Baela which room exactly everyone is in.

You watch as Aemond nonchalantly follows them, for which you curse internally, since you thought he wouldn't participate in this, he doesn't seem like the type of guy who chooses to play those kinds of games, but you have no choice.

Once you reach William's room, which is gigantic, Baela announces that she has found more players and everyone starts to take a seat on the couches, while you watch as Aegon greets Cregan very happily and he greets him as well, as if the two haven't seen each other in years, handing him the brownie.

Then Rhaena stands in the center, empty bottle in hand, setting it down on top of a small table that is also in the center.

"Well, I think we all know how this is played by now."

"Are there any rules?" asks Jace.

"Of course there are, without them this wouldn't be fun."

You let out a long sigh, looking away, already wanting to get out of here.

"We made a deal," Baela suddenly says to you, instantly, quietly and as if she had read your thoughts.

"I know," you mutter back, watching her irritated.

But she smiles happily and you all turn your attention to Rhaena.

"This will be truth or dare, if you choose dare it will be to go in with someone in the bathroom who will also choose the bottle for seven minutes. If you want to do your dirty things, we will play loud music and turn it off when the seven minutes are up," she makes it clear, "The thing is, you have three lives, so to speak. If you choose true every time the bottle points at you, by the fourth time it will be dare."

"Understood."

"And no one can cheat or refuse," your cousin makes clear.

"This is like the mafia, once you're in, you don't get out," Aegon says.

You stir uncomfortably, avoiding looking at a certain person in front of you, because you perfectly feel his stare on you, making you feel nervous but not only because of that, also because you're both here, playing games.

What are the chances that you will have to fulfill the dare with Aemond?

You probably would have wanted it before, but now that you've made your decision, you continue to stand firm with it, really not wanting such a thing to happen or you won't have the slightest idea what to do.

The circle starts at one corner with Aegon, then Cregan, Alysanne, Rhaena, Aemond, Daeron, Luke, then Jace, Baela, you, Jason, William and then two of William's friends that you don't know.

Then Rhaena spins the bottle and the game begins.

First everyone chooses truth, starting cool, so it's their turn to answer questions such as; "the craziest place you've ever had sex," "your favorite position," "at what age did you lose your virginity," "do you have a fetish or any sexual preference," "have you ever been or had a friend with benefits," "have you ever faked an orgasm, "have you ever participated in a threesome?"

Those and more sexual and uncomfortable questions are asked.

So far, the bottle has not pointed to you, nor to Baela, nor to Aemond nor to Luke.

Until Cregan is the first to dare to say dare, then the bottle points at Alysanne, to the surprise of many who know that there is something more between them than just a friendship, as they always say.

As Rhaena said, William plays music on his Alexa at full volume or at least loud enough for no one to hear anything. And you again try to ignore Aemond's gaze on you as you talk to Jason next to you.

Then the seven minutes are up and when they both come out of the bathroom, they look presentable, but everyone instantly mocks and Alysanne embarrasses herself, giving herself away.

The game goes on and Aegon also dares in saying dare and the bottle is pointed at one of William's friends. And when the seven minutes are up, Aegon doesn't even bother to dissimulate that something definitely happened between them.

When then the bottle points at you, making everyone in the circle watch you and luckily you still have your three lives.

And who will ask you? Unfortunately Aegon.

"Have you ever kissed any of us here?"

Fuck.

You curse internally again, while everyone watches you attentively and more than interested, except Baela, Rhaena and of course him, because they already know.

You sense that Aegon knows too, though maybe Daeron, Jace and Luke don't, but who knows. So there's no point in lying, much less when that person is here.

Inevitably you watch him for a few short seconds, seeing how he watches you intently, bringing the beer bottle to his lips without taking his gaze away from you, looking so sexy.

No, don't think that!

"Yes," you say casually, lowering your gaze.

"Who?" asks Cregan, interested and with a smile.

"Just a question," Baela jumps to your rescue.

"Oh come on, you're just leaving us with the intrigue," he complains indignantly.

The bottle spins again, feeling more of Aemond's gaze on you, but you don't return it, when it's Daeron's turn to do the dare and he enters the bathroom with the same girl who entered with Aegon earlier, only when they both come out, you notice nothing happened.

Then the bottle points at Jace, having to do the dare as well, but the bottle points at Jason and everyone laughs, so with no choice, they both go into the bathroom together and when the seven minutes are up, they both pretend to wipe the saliva off their lips.

It's not until later that it's Baela's turn to meet the challenge and Jace finally gets his wish to go into the bathroom with her. Then it's William's other friend's turn to do the dare and the bottle points at Luke.

It is clear that when they both leave the bathroom, nothing happened and so the game continues, until luck has its way and it is Daeron's turn to go into the bathroom with the same girl Luke went in with, then Luke goes in with Rhaena and then it is William's turn to go in with you.

Nothing happens, they both just talk, not being at all awkward, as he is actually very nice, but still when they both come out, most of them make teasing and he clarifies that nothing happened, while all the time you feel the burning gaze of him.

Then Rhaena spins the bottle again and it finally lands on Aemond, with Alysanne being the one to ask him.

"Which of us here would you kiss?"

You lower your gaze instantly, biting your lips, not daring to look at him, not having the slightest idea why but you don't understand why the questions are precisely about kissing just when he and you have already kissed.

Aemond's answer is not immediately heard and you continue to stare at your lap, while everyone else around you watches him attentively and expectantly, wanting to hear his answer, when you feel his penetrating gaze on you.

Honestly you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't say your name, maybe he would want to save you both embarrassment and you would understand perfectly if he says the name of some of William's friends. Besides, the kiss has already happened, you find no reason why he-.

"Y/N."

In an instant you raise your gaze towards him, your breath catching at that moment, causing the little giggles and looks of surprise from everyone in silence, even from your cousins, definitely not expecting that, while you continue to watch him attentively, not having expected that either.

But he continues to stand firm with his answer, which in fact he said it completely nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal to hide, being honest and direct without any problem.

He takes his last sip from his beer bottle, watching you back, just as attentive as you are, only making you feel more surprised and nervous, not having the slightest idea how to react.

You look away from him, when Aegon says to continue, breaking the moment but still feeling the tension.

As the game continues, no one has a chance to avoid the dare anymore, neither do you and Aemond, where fortunately nothing more happened between the two of you. Until the bottle again points to Aemond, but now he must do the dare.

Rhaena spins the bottle and just as it begins to slow down, everyone sees it point at the girl Daeron had entered with earlier.

With a disinterested and even bored look, Aemond without much emotion gets up and heads to the bathroom, with the girl following him instantly, while Baela gives you a look but you continue as usual, when inside you are very attentive.

You don't know exactly how you feel as the seven minutes begin, but you continue to act normal, feeling Aegon's gaze on you as well.

When the time ends and Aemond opens the door the second William stops the music, walking out of there with the girl walking out behind him, looking a bit… disappointed?

And sure enough, nothing happened between the two of them, causing Baela to give you a gentle, sly nudge, while you continue to act nonchalant, when in fact you occasionally watch Aemond intently.

"This is the last round," Rhaena warns, "We all have to point the bottle and do the dare one last time. Whoever you have already pointed at, will go out of the circle so that the bottle will point at those who have not yet."

"Sounds perfect to me," says Aegon, visibly excited, "I want my turn with Cregan."

"Hey!"

Everyone laughs, as Cregan gives you a friendly tap on the shoulder, as you both laugh and look amused, and then Rhaena spins the bottle and officially starts the last round.

You thought you would have a little more time, however, everyone watches perfectly as the bottle slowly points in your direction, while you let out a long breath and Rhaena excitedly spins it again to see who you will get to enter the bathroom with.

What are the chances that you will have to fulfill the dare with Aemond?

You had wondered before and at that moment you realize that the chances were very high, since the bottle is pointing at him.

The others don't even give you time to react, they quickly insist you get up, as well as him, all looking very excited and unable to wait, so very soon, you already find yourself entering the bathroom while Aemond closes the door behind him.

Holy shit.

You think, feeling completely nervous, as you lean back against the hand wash and he leans against the wall in front of you to hear the music out there playing perfectly.

He watches you, but you don't look back at him, feeling very nervous and also very embarrassed after what happened out there and not only because of the questions you both were asked, but also because of the kiss.

How am I supposed to act with him after that happened?

You wonder, nervous and stirring in your place, feeling the bathroom too small and his gaze on you making you feel hot already and the seven minutes have barely started.

This whole not having anything to do with him thing is definitely not working for you. And just like last time, he's the first to break the silence between the two of you.

"Did I do something wrong?"

And this immediately catches your attention, watching him instantly, while he is already watching you between attentive and curious, trying not to let his gaze make you even more nervous.

"What?" you say confused, "No."

"Then why are you acting like I'm not in the same place as you?"

Shit.

You think, definitely feeling more nervous, unable to help yourself.

"No," you shake your head, "No, I-I don't….

"Is it because of the kiss?"

You look at him slightly surprised, parting your lips, also not expecting him to ask you that with such a naturally and casually, realizing how incredibly direct he is, getting straight to the point.

And you don't know if that terrifies you or you like it more.

But you can't answer, you're too nervous, he makes you too nervous and you don't want to tell him yes, that's why and also because you don't want to be another girl of the crowd, but you can't lie to him either, even if you wanted to you can't think of anything.

Being in these circumstances with him does not help you at all.

When he sees that you don't answer him anything, he takes a step towards you, letting out a sigh and you immediately look at him alert, nervous and try to take more distance between you, feeling like your heart will jump out of your chest at any moment.

And he notices all this, confused by your behavior.

"What? What's wrong?" he asks you softly and attentive, "Are you afraid of me?"

You lower your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek, nervous and thoughtful, wanting to end this once and for all, telling yourself that you better be honest and direct with him, too, now, just as he is being honest and direct with you.

And finally you tell him, in a low voice, without looking at him.

"I don't want to be another one of your girls in the crowd, Aemond."

He looks at you slightly surprised, his lips parted, definitely not expecting that, creating again that silence between the two of you, while you continue with your gaze down and he doesn't know what to say to you, for the first time being at a loss for words.

He understands what you're implying, about him and that girl at the after party, but what he didn't expect was to hear those words from you.

And you, plucking up your courage, watch him and decide to explain further.

"I saw you at the after party of your last concert with that girl," you tell him softly and with a certain disappointed tone, "That's why I didn't try to approach you that night after understanding that that's what you're looking for from me."

He opens his mouth instantly to retort, but you continue speaking, wanting to make everything clear to him.

"Until the balcony thing happened at Jason's party and…. I don't regret it," you clarify, "But I feel like it shouldn't have happened," you look at him nervous, "I-I don't want to be another one-night stand girl that you throw away, ignore and forget about, I… I'm not looking for that," you deny, "It feels awful."

Aemond continues to watch you attentively, without you and him saying anything else, that silence returning, when he lets out another sigh and you are alerted when he moves closer to you again, this time completely shortening the distance between the two of you.

And you watch intently and nervously as he places both hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him, closing his eye and resting his forehead with yours, making you melt under his touch but not enough to allow it.

"Aemond," you call him softly, gently trying to pull away from him.

"Listen to me," he says softly, not pulling away and tightening his grip on your waist.

You stop putting up resistance, watching him completely attentively, as he takes a moment before speaking, enjoying your closeness, which is all he's thought about since that kiss happened.

"I'm sorry you saw me that way," he tells you sincerely, "Had I known you were there, I wouldn't have done it."

You can't help but feel absurd.

"Oh come on."

"I mean it," he tells you instantly, insistent, "I know it's not justification but I thought I'd never see you again, it's not like I do it every day either, I promise," he assures you, "But ever since that kiss happened… I haven't stopped thinking about you Y/N, not for a second," he confesses to you, "Even you were the reason I decided to play this shit, just so I could be close to you."

Oh no, you're already falling.

Your mind says to you, as you give him your full attention.

"But I'm not…

"You won't be," he interrupts you, firm, "You won't be just another one of the crowd. Believe me that was never my intention since I met you."

You swallow hard, still watching him not entirely convinced.

"And how am I supposed to believe that?"

"Let me prove it to you," he tells you instantly, willing, "Stop ignoring me, start talking to me and you'll see."

He says to then raise one of his hands, place it on your cheek gently and lean in to kiss you.

taglist fic:

@melsunshine @fan-goddess @toodlesxcuddles @helaenaluvr @at-a-rax-ia @iloveallmyboys @nockerin @manonmccrory @tsujifreya @persephonerinyes @happinessinthebeing @zenka69 @diannnnsss @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gloryekaterina @strangersunghoon @ttkttt

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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