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#like 'what if you imagined him and an oc of yours making out
miley1442111 · 1 day
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back to chicago-c.berzatto
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a/n: i'm probably going to make this two parts (or more) because I really like this idea so this is part 1. i imagined a fem reader and it's mentioned quite a few times but as usual, imagine what you like. SET AFTER SEASON 2
summary: a double date with your boyfriend at the Bear can only go well, right?
pairings: carmenberzatto x femreader (complicated relationship), platonicthe bear x reader, romantic oc x reader
warnings: general angst, mentions of mikeys death
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You and Carmen had grown up together, living across the street from one another. Your childhoods were wildly different, his filled with family drama and personal independence. Yours filled with absent parents and the necessity of independence. You went to school together, went to prom together (as ‘friends’), and you were each other's first kiss. Then, you went off to college for law and business and he went off to cook. You vowed to never go back to Chicago, but stayed in contact with Mikey until he died. Then you came back. You felt a debilitating need to see Mikey off. Watch him be put into the ground. You had hoped Carmen would show up. He didn’t. 
You had stayed in Chicago, you had the time and money. Being a successful lawyer in New York was a great gig. Straight out of college you’d gotten a job at a top law firm, and just last year you were made partner. Taking time off for personal reasons wasn’t questioned. Even if it had happened a year ago. Even though you were in Chicago purely for the reason of nostalgia. You’d gone last year for the funeral and this time it was just because something in you missed it. 
It felt good to breathe in the Chicago air again as you walked down the darkened streets, ready for a date at a new Chicago restaurant, The Bear. It was where The Beef had been. Devastating how someone just came in and wrecked all of Mikey’s work. You thought to yourself as you opened the door and searched for the man you were meeting. Adrian, an accountant you’d met at a jazz club, was a nice man. He was sweet and reliable, funny and kind and you both got along well. He was never too handsy and always on time… but you still feared full commitment. He waved you over and you sat beside him as he pressed a kiss to your lips, you smiled, greeting his friends. This ‘double date’ thing had been his idea. This restaurant had been his idea, and as you stared Richie Jerimovich in the face, a shocked dumb-founded look on his face, you remembered why you left Chicago in the first place You remembered Carmen always wanted to call his restaurant ‘The Bear’ and you remembered that there was no getting out of this. 
Shit. 
“Do you two know each other?” Adrian asked, a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality. 
“Fuck yeah we do! Cousin, how are you?” Richie smiled, forgoing the formalities and pulling you out of your seat and into a hug. 
“Richie, how are you?” You mustered up your best fake smile, trying to keep the gaze of Adrian’s friends unsuspicious. 
“I’m great Bug, how are you?” he asked, using the wretched nickname you endured for all those years. 
“Bug?” Adrian smiled. 
“Childhood nickname,” you explained quickly. “I’m good, Rich, real good.”
“You're a fancy lawyer now huh? What was it, New York right?” 
“That’s right,” you smiled. You couldn’t ruin this dinner. Adrian had flown all the way from New York to see you. This was the first time in a month that he’d seen you. Adrian’s friends had to like you. You had to make them like you.
“Sugar’s going to freak out when she sees you,” Richie smiled. You followed Nat on instagram, but refused to like any of her pictures, not wanting her to reach out. You knew she was pregnant. “You won’t believe it, she’s pregnant!”
“Oh my god! I must congratulate her,” you smiled, not realising what that tiny statement would bring.
“I’ll take you to the back now! I’ll give the rest of you guys the tour after,” he smiled at the rest of the table and they seemed to be excited by the prospect of seeing the kitchen so you plastered on a smile, kissed Adrian’s cheek, and let Richie lead the way. 
As you edged closer to the kitchen, you could hear voices, but thankfully not Carmen’s. You turned a corner, pushed through the door behind Richie, and you were led to a small office. Inside sat Natalie ‘Sugar’ Berzatto, ‘Uncle Jimmy’, and Carmen fucking Berzatto. You let out a breath.
“Look who came in to say hi,” Richie announced, stepping to the side to stop covering you. Sugar and Jimmy’s eyes lit up and they immediately started to hug you, yet Carmen stayed frozen to his spot against the wall.
“My love, how’s New York?” Jimmy asked, his arms around you. 
“It’s great, everything I wanted,” you smiled. Your life was something you felt you could be proud of. You loved New York and you loved your job. You had great friends, friends that were practically family. You had Adrian, he was great and he loved you. Yet you still thought about the Berzattos daily. “Congratulations Natalie!” You turned to her, hugging her side due to her large bump. 
You exchanged small talk back and forth with Jimmy and Sugar as Richie and Carmen whispered in the corner. You couldn’t make out what they were saying but it worried you. 
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carmen
There you were. Standing there, fucking glowing. And here I was, a stained white t-shirt on and a pair of fucking jeans on. You looked beautiful, the type of beautiful that would make me jealous of the guy you were going home to if I saw you walking down the street. What were you doing here? Why the fuck were you standing in my office, looking so damn beautiful, yet so unattainable?
“She’s here with a guy,” Richie whispered into my ear. 
“What?” I scoffed. 
“She’s here with a guy!” He whispered louder. I felt my blood boil. So you’re here, in my fucking restaurant, with some other fucking guy. Awesome. I searched your hands for an engagement ring, or worse, a wedding ring. I saw none and my ears refocused into the room. 
“So?” I sighed, feigning disinterest.
“ ‘So’? Your fucking girl is with another guy. In your restaurant!” Richie snapped. 
“She’s not my fucking girl anymore, stop talking outta your ass,” I shoved him, making him leave me alone. My words were deflections. Of course you were my fucking girl, you always would be. You were perfection personified in my eyes, even with any of your flaws. And I wanted you to be my girl, but I got so fucking in my head about it I couldn‘t ask, and then we left and went our separate ways. 
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You
“Look, I’d better get back to my table, my boyfriend’s waiting-”
“Boyfriend?” Jimmy cut you off. “I thought you and Carmy were dating?” 
“Yeah, when we were like 17-” You started but Carmen cut you off. 
“We never dated.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Your smile faltered, then faded entirely and it was all Carmen’s fault. 
“Look, I’m sure my table is waiting on me to order, it was great to see you guys,” you smiled and left the room, walking back to your table, a sigh leaving your lips. 
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Carmen 
“You are such a fuckin’ asshole!” Richie shouted as Sugar and Jimmy sighed. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about ‘we never dated’? You’re still fuckin’ in love with her!” 
“Richie just fuck off ok! I don’t have to explain shit to you-” I started but I was cut off by Sugar. 
“That was such a shitty thing to say Bear! We haven’t seen that girl in fucking years and of course you had to fucking ruin it. We’ll probably never fucking see her again!”��
“I know that was shitty Sugar, I’mf fucking aware!” I started as I walked out of the office and into the kitchen. I wanted to make your food amazing. That was the only way you’d ever forgive me, right?
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You
You walked back to your table and answered any and all questions pertaining to your relationships with the Berzattos, leaving out that you had a crush on Carmen. You allowed yourself to peek into the kitchen window and you saw him furiously moving. He was mixing something? You couldn’t see. Adrian’s kissing your shoulder pulled you back to reality. Adrian was great. He knew how hard tonight was for you. He knew about what happened in your childhood. He knew about what happened with Carmen. Adrian’s friends, Emilia and John both got up to take a smoke break and he turned to you. 
“Are you alright?” He asked, squeezing your hand.
“Fine, it’s just… messy, I guess.”
“Well you’re doing great. John and Emilia love you,” he smiled and kissed your cheek. “I wouldn’t have picked this place if I knew, I just wanted to see you-”
“I know,” you smiled at him. “I wanted to see you too,” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he grinned. 
“You look so beautiful tonight,” he flirted. 
“So do you,” you simply said and he chuckled. 
“Such a flirt,” he joked and you laughed, a real laugh. He kissed you again, quick and sweet. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” you said matter-of-factly and his face lit up. You truly had no idea if you actually loved him. Your commitment issues were constantly getting in the way of your relationships, so you had to do something, telling him you love him, I admit, might’ve been a crazy thing to start with but, you were running out of options.
He kissed you again, less quickly but still polite enough to not be seen as improper. John and Emilia started walking back in, so you pulled away to see him with a boyish grin on his face. 
That felt… good? Like it was right?
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Carmen
I walked out into my own restaurant, nervous as I was when I was 17, asking you to the prom. All you have to do is explain the dishes. I thought to myself. I know my dishes. Richie walked behind me with the other two dishes in his hands, and I took a deep breath. There you were, radiant as ever, laughing along with what someone said. I would do fucking anything to just have your number so I could just text you sometimes. 
I walked up, standing beside you and your smile flattened, looking fake. 
“Hey Carmen,” you greeted. 
“And how do you know the owner?” John asked, excited about all of the attention your table was getting.
“We were-”
“We dated in highschool,”  I said before you could finish and John chuckled as your boyfriend put a protective arm around your shoulder. I explained all the dishes and placed them in front of each of your table. 
“Thanks Bear,” you mumbled and my heart practically stopped. 
“Well, thanks,” your boyfriend gritted out. I smirked. 
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jennifer-jeong · 4 hours
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[Angst + Fluff] [Ryomen Sukuna x Reader] Next time
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hehehe see what I did with the header picture, they're leaning on each other (you'll get it if you read)
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CONTENT
Sukuna promises you he’ll be better for you in your next lives. NOT SPOILER FREE, suggestive, angst to fluff, it’s supposed to be a happy ending if you pretend that things don’t go according to canon LOL, very OC Sukuna so he actually has emotions, near death experiences, injuries, blood, death, suicide, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+
AUTHOR NOTES
I can’t write canon Sukuna because he doesn’t even like humans 💀 Basically this is pookie Sukuna LOL There’s a lot of deviation from canon in this fic. I'm probably going to make a smut portion to this in a separate fic so stay tuned hehe, I'll link it here if I finish it!
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Word Count: 2244 why did this turn out so long... maybe I actually do like him
Back in the Heian period (a millenia ago), Ryomen Sukuna, “the king of curses,” peaked in power. At the same time, you were just getting started with your adult life. Unfortunately at this moment, however, it seemed that it would be cut short. A strong, locust-like, curse manifested in your village and you’ve been trying your best to stop it but to no avail. In fact, it’s currently pinning your body to the ground, trying to bite your head off. You imagine that the curse came to be due to the fear of famine in your farms, but you didn’t think it’d be this strong. You struggle but the curse is much larger than you are. You don’t even know what your last words should be, your mind going blank in panic. Your life starting to flash before your eyes-
“I suggest you fuck off my turf,” says a dangerously domineering voice. The curse looks up down the road and sees something you can’t in your current position. You barely need to look to figure out who it is though. The curse above you freezes in pure fear and eases up on crushing your body in a jolt. You hear the same voice “tsk” at the curse’s “disrespectful” hesitation and suddenly the giant bug flies in a seemingly random direction before essentially exploding due to the force. You sit up slightly with shock evident on your face, you turn around to finally see your unfortunate savior. He takes your silent shock as confusion and explains “the area is mine… filthy curses have no right to do as they please around here.” Your body feels heavy from the sheer aura of power he gives off but you can’t help but still make a mildly disgusted face at him for what he’s saying. You’ve heard he treats humans like livestock and you have always despised him for having power like that and choosing to do this instead of something good. He makes an angered face back saying “hah?” and just when you start to regret your choice of facial expression, he rolls his eyes and walks away. You pause for a few seconds before taking a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You mutter a “thanks” that you don’t think he hears before heading back to your home to tend your wounds.
Sukuna had been watching you recently. It was no coincidence that he appeared in front of you that night. He first noticed you when you were able to kill any of the curses that attacked your village. He watched, quite amused, that you continued to struggle with no fear against these monsters while the rest of your idiotic village sat back and watched, some even calling you insane despite you saving their lives. Sukuna doesn’t understand why you don’t just beat up the humans that don’t listen. You let them take advantage of your kindness even though you could wipe them all out with an arm tied behind your back. You’re overly kind but you still have the guts to stand up to someone like him. He heard your small mutter of gratitude while he walked away and smiled slightly. He’s never met someone he actually felt bad for in this way. He’s found something he feels pity for, and it’s enough to make him want to protect it, treat it like it’s special.
So now you’re here, a few days later in his temple, bowing 90 degrees in front of him with an offering in your hand. You came here to show him respect for not killing you or the other villagers. He’s impressed you even found him and more impressed that you made the trek here. He walks towards you and reaches for your chin with his hand to make you look at him and stand up. His eyes inspect your slightly flustered face while his thumb very slightly caresses your chin. He releases his hold on your face and takes the offering. You stand there, still on guard and weary of the man. But you know he hasn’t done anything to your village in the time that you’ve been alive, you just know he’s the “disgraced one” and that it can’t be good.
For the next few weeks, your time is spent half at the village and half at Sukuna’s temple. He decided to help you with the journey by just teleporting you with a “simple” technique that you couldn’t comprehend. You slowly discover that Sukuna is actually just so strong he’s bored, no one really stands on equal ground with him. Even if all the sorcerers in the world fought him, he’s confident he’d win, and you don’t doubt it (canon).
He thinks it’s cute that you still go back to the village to help out here and there. He’s only okay with it now because he can watch over you and intervene if anyone wants to be rude. Many of the villagers are kind to you from a distance, only some actually approach you to thank you from time to time. A small group of the villagers unfortunately highly suspect you to be a curse of some sort though and don’t trust you because you’re so powerful. You’ve only ever done good with your power and you know that for a fact, so you ignore them. Sukuna, however, sits in his temple absolutely fuming whenever they interact with you, he’d maim them if you told him to, but you specifically told him he can’t hurt any humans unless they attack first.
Sukuna enjoys watching your little daily endeavors, smiling whenever you’re clumsy while cleaning or when you accomplish hunting down and killing some curses. It brings a sense of innocent joy to his life that he hasn’t ever really had. He’s had violent, murderous joy in his life, but nothing like this before. Some might say it made him soft, but really it made him stronger in a sense, he finally had something to protect.
As time goes on and seasons change, you and Sukuna only grow closer. You can’t explain why you’re still here with someone you used to hate with every fiber of your being. You think it might have something to do with how he actually sees you. He sees your struggle and your kindness and properly appreciates you for it. No one else in your life has done that for you. No one protects you and cares for you like he does. You also learned that he’s always been pretty good or at least neutral in using his power too. Only killing humans when attacked, beating up strong sorcerers but not killing them, and killing curses that bother him in his land. He was never actually as bad as the rumors made him out to be. Basically, Sukuna fell first and fell harder before you realized that you had fallen all the same.
Sukuna can’t help but be a little obsessive over you. You’re the only one he has eyes for afterall. He always checks in to make sure you’re safe when you aren’t at the temple and actually learns how to cook new dishes so he can feed you. His touches always linger on you: his hands on the small of your back, fingers brushing through your hair, lips ghosting over your skin. When you spend nights together, he’s essentially worshiping your body, telling you how beautiful you are and how he’s all yours. You make sure to return the favor and make him feel loved, it makes his heart feel so full and only deepens his love for you.
You’ve discovered overtime that Sukuna is actually human, he’s just so unbelievably strong and feared that people think he’s a curse. It was strange, you could almost draw a parallel between Sukuna and yourself. Both of you were feared by some because they just didn’t understand you or your intentions. It was an unfortunate part of this reality, but as long as you could live happily together, you didn’t really mind.
Another unfortunate part of this reality, though, was that things never go according to plan. Your plans of living happily together with Sukuna quickly fell apart soon after your 3 year anniversary. The sorcerers knew that they could use you to bait Sukuna and have a much better chance at defeating him. So that’s exactly what they did. They caught you when you were out in the village in the late summer. You were strong, but there were too many of them.
It was doomed before it even started.
In the end, Sukuna is out of energy, being forced to fight offensively instead of defensively if he wanted to save you. You managed to escape to return to him and help, but you were both quickly overwhelmed since the sorcerers decided to play dirty like this. You were both sitting outside of the temple, having teleported away to buy some time. You both just sit and talk. “Have we even killed anything other than curses recently?” you question. He chuckles at your seemingly lighthearted question in this situation, “not that I can think of… I think this was always coming for me though.” You look up at him with concern, he can only smile back even though you can see the clear sorrow in his eyes. “Humans are always scared of what they don’t understand. It’s just how it is” he says as he closes his eyes and enjoys the sun. The warmth drying the blood on both of you, some of it belonging to you both, most of it belonging to your attackers. You’re silent, not sure of what to say in what seems to be your last few moments. He leans on you and you turn your head to touch foreheads. He sighs and says “I’m glad I met you at all though… You showed me what being loved is like. It was something I never thought I’d find or deserve.” You start to tear up and reach a hand to caress his cheek. “You always deserved love, darling. I’m sorry the world was so horrible to you,” you say to him in a gentle voice. “Don’t apologize, love” he says as he kisses your forehead and wraps an arm around you.
“Maybe if we can get them to hate us enough, they’ll curse us together and we can live on like that” you say jokingly. He chuckles and says “wow you really do like me, huh?” You both laugh and hold each other.
A group of sorcerers are within view and are approaching fast. You give him one last kiss and speak your last words to him: “maybe we’ll reincarnate together someday. Maybe as curses, maybe as humans.” His eyes soften with sadness written all over his face “if that happens, I promise our lives won’t be like this one… I want to be a good man for you next time… I’d give all this power up if I could just live a long and happy life with you.” You close your eyes as tears fall. Your eyebrows scrunch as the pain washes over you, physically and emotionally. You see him tear up ever so slightly and whisper “I’m sorry for all the trouble, my love.” “Just make it up to me next time,” you giggle. He knows you never blamed him. He smiles.
You always knew what you were getting into when you approached Sukuna. It was dangerous, delusional, and stupid. But you know you would’ve never had it any other way.
You both still sat side by side, foreheads touching, holding each other. You quickly charged two shots of cursed energy. One piercing his skull, the other, yours.
You eventually become a small part mentioned by people when they retell the tale of the king of curses. Many described you as a traitor or as a curse. But some could see that you prevented Sukuna from spiraling deeper into his distaste for humans. Without you, he might have become a sadistic psychopath as time went on since no one would have any way to kill him. They praised you for that, thinking you did it on purpose to save the nearby villages. Both these ideas were lost in history though. In modern times it’s only written in some books at jujutsu high as hypotheses. No one truly knew what happened.
Sukuna’s powers sealed into his fingers upon death. A technique he used on himself before he met you and one he long forgot about. The sorcerers, out of fear, scattered his indestructible fingers to prevent anyone getting their hands on them and reincarnating the king of curses. Hoping to keep the man dead.
Again, reality makes sure things don’t go to plan, and it’s Yuji’s first day meeting some of his classmates. Sukuna has been wondering what to do since he’s been reincarnated into Yuji’s body. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet in Yuji’s mind and it makes everyone question if Sukuna is really the evil being they all thought he was.
Sukuna is barely paying attention until he feels a familiar warmth walk into the room, not even needing to see you to know who you were. He couldn’t believe it, he almost laughed, thinking that the universe really brought you two back together after more than a thousand years. But he paused, suddenly serious because he realized he had a chance to make things, not right, but different.
After class, Sukuna switches with Yuji, and lo and behold, you show him the exact same disgusted face you made to him centuries ago when he came to greet you in Yuji’s body. It made him smile as he let out a whisper,
“I missed you.”
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Thank you for reading!
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|| MASTERLIST <3 ||
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Hello, I hope you don't mind if I share a weird headcanon of mine 👉👈
I normally see people talking about Kakyoin make drawing about you but what if Jotaro does that too? The reason I have this headcanon because I remember the scene when Jotaro using Star Platinum drawing the fly he saw in the picture, and he draw it so well. It makes me think that maybe Jotaro has talent in art too. Jotaro's style will be realistic style while Kakyoin will be more like cartoon/anime style.
Imagine their sketchbook filling with so many drawing of you 💕 Jotaro will watching you from afar, sketching you with your cute smile, your beautiful eyes, he captured it all. For Kakyoin, I think he will even make up characters (oc) that look like you and him and ship them together lol (this headcanon inspried by my friend, she actually do that with her crush).
Thank you for reading my ramble, glad to talk with you :D I would love to hear your thoughts about my weird headcanon
P/s: Love you writing so muchhhh 💝
This is fun stuff, I could eat it up all day. Thanks for sending it in, so I can blabber my mouth about it
This always internally bugged me so I’m very thrilled that someone brought up how well Star Platinum drew that fly. I suppose it’s kind of easy to gloss over for a lot of people compared to Kakyoin’s scene of painting on that canvas. (Then again that fly was kind of important to identify to figure out where Dio was so then again it’s “???” for an explanation)
Anywho, I’d say signs point to Jotaro being able to draw, and I think it’s a hobby he prefers keeping to himself. Like you said of him having a sketchbook, almost no one sees what he draws in it and he doesn’t want anyone else to see it especially if it’s various sketches of you. So more than likely when he does do so, he’s somewhere where he won’t be pestered by school girls, or whatever punk tries to start a fight with him.
I’d also like to think he goes back and lingers on prior stuff, just staring at it for a little while. This applies usually when you’re out of school sick (which he’ll probably stop by later anyway with or without your knowledge). But there’s something comforting about seeing every piece of your visage in his sketchbook. Literally no one else knows about this sketchbook aside from maybe Kakyoin (Holly has her suspicions he takes a sketchbook around but she smiles not pestering her son on his hobbies as she thinks it’s adorable).
For the most part art wise I think Jotaro sticks to traditional art, maybe a dabble of charcoal but he prefers pencils. Maybe watercolor if he ever went beyond, but traditional with pencil/pen is the easiest way for him to pull something out at his leisure. Would he let you see? Maybe eventually when he gets you where he wants you, or if the cat is out of the bag early and you see it and you’re not quite with him yet. Let’s just say seeing that may speed up him taking you.
Kakyoin I could definitely see diving into the oc type of thing, he’d certainly reference an artstyle of a manga you like. (Don’t ask how he figured that out so quickly). Though he definitely loves putting some passion into his artwork and occasionally shamelessly make sultry artwork of you and himself. He loves painting the most as he spreads colors, mixing them into the wondrous hues that is your skin tone. Or splashing watercolors in a notebook, that looks something out of a fairytale. Soft and warm lighting….oops he’s getting a tad bit excited.
He definitely presents pieces that are obviously meant to be stand ins for the two of you. That no one else would ever be wiser too, yeah you might have this odd feeling something’s not quite right, but there’s nothing there you could really prove other than observe just how pretty the composition is. If you compliment it, that just fuels this man’s desire further.
Biggest takeaway here is Jotaro and Kakyoin very blatantly have their own styles whether sticking with black/white/grey, or full on color. Both would be pretty in their own right, and their style choices speak of their personalities without saying a single word.
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New crackship idea: Jolinar x Ancano
Nin, I love the way you think.
Truly the most hilarious of all possible Jolinar ships.
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puppyeared · 2 years
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Vincent!!! Kid of my oc Augusta and @poicyss oc Anton <333
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lotuseatingstone · 1 year
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moodboard for when you make quite the poor moral decision choosing your wol's boyfriends.
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haha no its fine. i can be normal about this.
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eorzeashan · 1 year
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man I've been trying to latch onto the story beats for KOTET but mostly failing; and I think it's because Eight's whole deal with it only worked for KOTFE. would he beat Valkorion's ass for trying to hijack his and Jadus' bond? absolutely. would he be there for the Vaylin stuff? not... so much.
The way he sees it, he's repaying a life debt to Lana (since Koth pretty much opted out of it by taking the Gravestone as his reward) that is equal in worth to Arcann's death. Once that happens, he's out. And he hasn't enjoyed this whole stint one bit either; in fact, I can say he's even more miserable than he was under the Castellan Restraints. At least there he was thrilled by it and motivated by his own purposes. Here, he feels trapped. Alone.
You could say he has a choice to walk away, but at this point he's too mired in the war and it's...well, he takes burdens. He has that code to always repay what he owes even if he hates it. Lana doesn't realize it either-- or she only noticed one time via that letter, but didn't do much about it because what she asks him to do is so tied to what she doesn't give a second thought about: it's necessary. She thinks he has a personal stake in this and projects her own frustrations at the state of the world onto him because she doesn't know. And perhaps, that means.... she doesn't know him, either.
Their relationship was basically the same before too, only this time it's tipped drastically in her favor because he no longer has that choice to disobey. He could've had worse masters, but Lana's pragmatism and way of pointing him at what needs to be done (killed) has been horrible thus far. Even Jadus/Acina were both more receptive and open to him and while Lana does in essence, care, she does not hesitate and doesn't question her motives or the one she's shouldering these tasks to.
It's mostly the BuyowareTM effect of mission-ordained bestie and the plot railing, but it also does feel like... she doesn't realize how satisfied she is when he's finally following her orders after a long, long time of him openly resisting and making no effort to respect her chain of command, which was like a subconscious reaction on his part each time he sassed her because he didn't want to be under her thumb. Then when he agrees and does what she asks, she's more than pleased, happy even.
Yet from Eight's pov, it does something to him each time where he sinks even further into being that unfeeling weapon who no longer wants to think.
Would she be mortified if she knew how miserable he was having her as a taskmaster? Most likely. She's just doing what she thinks is best for the people she knows and her galaxy-- but it's her unawareness of this, her extreme pragmatism and eagerness to use him to the best of her ability that shifts their power dynamic to something less benevolent. Even under the kindest of Sith who treats him as a friend, he suffers because of his nature as a weapon to be used by her and her iron-clad ideals.
It's also a detriment on his part where Eight makes no effort to sway other people or change them because he believes in witnessing their true selves without his interference, and when Lana admitted she only saved him so he could save them, she sealed her fate and his. In that way, he tends to enable the worst in others around him because he lets them go unchecked, convinced it's who they are at their core. It's made worse by Eight honoring his debt to Lana, as he can only follow what she wishes and not completely override her decisions as he did before in SoR.
You could also say Theron helped to balance that out but as he's taken a backseat this time, it's also become damaging to him to watch Eight lopsidedly defer to a much colder side that clashes with Theron's way of doing things. So much so he's started "other"-ing him and blaming it on heartless Imps. That's another reason why every time Eight gets separated from them, he briefly considers using the opportunity to run away, but of course, he never does. Using Dromund Kaas' assassination attempt as a cover for his death was so tempting, and how bad does it have to be if you want to fake your death to your friends of all things?
I feel like this is all going to reach an untenable point somewhere as it has to, I'm just unsure as to what form it'll take given the unpredictable nature of the current story to either provide me with all the story revelations or nothing at all.
The current idea i'm entertaining is that Theron puts the pieces together of Eight's downturn into extreme coldness and avoidance of them, an overhead discussion involving Koth once again arguing with Lana over her treatment of him (i.e. that one letter), and then the final subplot where he is given the extra mission during the Traitor Arc to not only destroy the Gravestone but take away their other weapon, Eight himself, by convincing him to leave the Alliance-- only that isn't a ploy from Theron because he catches onto just how bad this is for his former friend and ends up helping Eight "get out".
That's probably too messy of a story to write, but we'll see-- but also because the Traitor Arc would hit much differently if Lana simply sic'ed Eight on Theron like she did on Arcann and Senya and Vaylin to some essence. For one, he might end up dead. And nobody likes a dead Theron. Two, Eight really is the Alliance's other weapon, and much less of a personality as the game makes out the Commander/Outlander to be. Vinn Atrius might have noticed by then who that white-haired attack dog is who keeps entering the battlefield and killing their top contenders: another one of the Alliance's trump cards. He and the Gravestone have been synonymous in their effectiveness and use from the beginning, so it's only natural they'd want to take him out of the picture.
Lastly, I just really want these two to reconcile. It kind of broke my heart that Theron used to find common ground with him and now doesn't see him at all, and I also thought the idea of a little bit of truth being behind him being a traitor was spicy if... the Outlander was one who was more burdened by the Alliance than protected or saved by it. The idea of taking down everything you've built thus far because it's hurting the person who made it all possible... it's sweet, isn't it? It's the kind of thing the last spy with a heart would do. Maybe that's ooc. But I do like the idea of exploring just how far all of them are willing to use weapons who may even be their own friends just to get ahead in this damn galaxy, and course-correcting from that when you realize you'll never stop having another Arcann or Vaylin, with too many Senyas and Master Surros in between.
This has to end somewhere, but mostly I just want the Rishi trio to come to terms with the way they are now :'I.
#swtor#oc: orradiz#kotfe/et au#accidental long winded ramble about eight's relationship with lana and theron in these times#but also. imagining theron going 'it's over. be free' and Eight silently staring at him in that unreadable way#then taking his smiling proffered hand#which theron thinks is going to be a handshake but instead he just holds his hand very delicately#and then kisses his knuckles.#he fucking explodes into confused bisexual panic ofc but eight just smiles genuinely at him and says thank you#eight follows up with ask me to fight for you any time and theron scoffs after what he just saw with lana#like 'im flattered but I won't. ever. you've done that enough.'#hueghh anyways this is just me wishing eight could be seenTM#esp since this side of him was the one his Nine self never wanted to show theron out of fear he wouldn't understand or accept him#so this is a bit cathartic LOL#anyways. this probs makes zero sense#and just so you know this isn't bashing lana she's not evil for doing this#she just has no idea what it meant to choose Eight of all people to be her champion#I think it would be a good wakeup call for her though#to go 'I never realized...I didn't mean to-' ' he says it wasn't your fault.' ' but it was Theron! all of it!'#I think it might help finally rectify the same reasons she used theron as bait albeit more drastically#10 years to crack that one though...wow#i also want them to make up. but it won't be done if neither of them do anything about it :'o#also also also this is the negative consequence of the concern lana might use an imp underling but NORMALLY most would have told her#since she wasn't informed here the worst played out
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vvanessaives · 1 year
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AND 🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊 for whoever’s Got u right now
it's moira that is living rent free in my head rn but i already talked about her in two other asks so nfkjdf. i'll pick daniel & nader and split these for them both since i never talk about them...my boys <3
Daniel
his mother and step-father really wanted to see him work for trauma team, his mom already had med school paid for him (with jonathan's money fjdsjk) and jon already pulled some strings for a guaranteed job in the company. but daniel simply hated having his future already decided by others and he never liked the idea of working for corporations. he will later become a ripperdoc tho :^)
he's going to take this secret to the grave (and also made fenix SWEAR he will never talk about it with vesper) but. looks like he had a little crush on fenix when he first met him..he didn't know he had history with his own sister and he regrets thinking fenix was hot every single day of his life kfjsdkf
he loves doing little sketches, he's not an artist and doesn't really care about drawing in general but he likes to u know, doodle stupid things with his wobbly lines. leave little notes around with his doddles on it
fenix has become some kind of mentor in his life, like an older brother (even if he already has one but they never really had a good relationship) and vesper hates that soooo much because sometimes daniel acts like him/thinks like fenix would etc etc. daniel looks up at him with admiration maybe like a role model, even if he doesn't spare fenix of any playful insults and so on. everyone is concerned about this
Nader
has a black cat named Noir and he loves him more than anything in the world. one day this stray entered his mother's restaurant trying to find something to eat and nader immediately fell in love with the little guy. he kept feeding him every time noir came around until one day he never left <3
he's a drummer and played a few times with vesper out of fun, they do match reaaal well together, they are just missing a few bandmates to finally have their own official band
he lives in a pretty cozy studio: the place has something poetic about it (just like its owner, a poetic soul you know), minimalist but also chaotic in a tidy way if this makes sense fjksdkl. he hated leaving his mother since he's very close to his family but he felt like he needed his own place, especially for doing his netrunning stuff. it's all okay tho bc he visits karima almost daily (works at the restaurant with her too when he can). also everyone is wondering when daniel will move in with him there since he spends most of his time at nader's place anyway (fenix. fenix is asking himself that. bc he wants the house free of daniel fjsdkfjdn)
it was his idea to own a tattoo studio and daniel got dragged into it by curiosity basically. one day he randomly mentioned his idea of opening a studio and daniel immediately went ohh WELL that's my dream too now. nader is very happy about this because not only he can do something he loves but he's doing it with his best friend which makes everything more special than he could ever dream of
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livinginshambles · 6 months
Text
But what about me | James Potter
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Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5.1k
Summary: Established relationship - You're jealous of the new girl but are mature about it, James is oblivious, and he also forgets your birthday and anniversary.
Notes: So here it is, a new version. I'm not going to continue the taglist, because it is kind of a hassle to take care of. Lily is our friend. OC Rosalie sucks. James is stupid. Spelling mistakes, grammar mistakes, probably a happy ending, you know the drill.
Masterlist
“What’s on your mind?”
_________________________
You stared at James from a distance.
You shot up, your eyes widened in an alarmed manner before your posture relaxed when you saw it was Annabelle. She was a Hufflepuff ghost, a student who had tragically died during a Triwizard tournament, a few decades ago.
You shook your head in reassurance. “Nothing’s on my mind-“
“-So, the usual then?” Sirius’ voice popped up behind you and you wasted no time in elbowing him in the ribs, causing him to let out an “oomph”. You quickly waved at Annabelle who floated off.
“Watch it Padfoot,” you sternly told him, and you tried your best to give him a reprimanding look. By the laughing sound of his reaction, you failed in appearing intimidating.
“So,” Sirius began. “Big day tomorrow ey?” He wiggled his eyes suggestively. You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, my birthday. Stop making it sound weird,” you huffed, and you shook your head.
“Totally worth it, Annika just walked past us with a beet red face,” Sirius defended with a mischievous grin.
“You should stop your inappropriate comments, I mean you are literally my cousin,” you stated loudly, and Sirius earned a disgusted look from another student passing by.
Sirius’ mouth hung open and then he scrambled to defend himself. “So, we’re not related at all, she was kidding!” His voice and pitch raised by the end of the sentence as he called out to the student who’d given him a not-so-subtle side eye.
You gave him a smug look. “Fine,” Sirius relented. “Truce?” You two shook hands.
“You’re not trying to steal my girl, are you Pads?” Two arms found their way around your waist, followed by a kiss to your cheek.
Sirius let go of your hand to hold them up in surrender. “I wouldn’t dare, Prongs, just chatting because she seemed lonely,” he shrugged. You shot him a glare.
“Lonely?” James’ attention immediately zoned in on you.
“He’s just talking out of his ass, Jamie,” you waved it off.
Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, because you were definitely not longingly looking at Prongs here, talking to that gir-“ This time, you kicked his shins.
“Nah, I’m just pranking you, mate,” Sirius nonchalantly changed course and patted James on the shoulder while he passed him. James ignored him and focused on you.
He spun you around by one arm, held above your head like you were doing a ballroom dance. His hands quickly settled on your sides when you faced him, and he leaned over to pepper your face full of pecks. You grinned up at him and he fondly looked back before pulling you in again for a deeper kiss.
“Really?” A portrait next to you spoke up snorted. “Right in front of my salad?” He gestured to the painted salad on the dinner table in front of him.
James pointedly ignored him and instead tried to pull you a little bit closer. Not that that was possible.
“Oh, now you’re just doing it on purpose,” The man in the painting complained, and you would imagine the grimace on his face if you weren’t too preoccupied with James, who was leaving small pecks against your lips.
“Don’t like what you see, look away,” James murmured against you.  
“Disrespectful cretin these days. I would look away, but you are right in my sight,” The portrait huffed dramatically. You softly pushed James away to offer the poor man a sheepish look but found that he��d already escaped to a neighboring painting.
“So tomorrow,” James started, and you couldn’t help but get excited at the prospect of a date with James. That giddy feeling sank very quickly when James finished his sentence.
“I’ll be training our newest Chaser for the day. That’s the girl I was talking to before,” he explained. “Her name’s Rosalie James, isn’t that funny? Like her last name is James, it confused me a lot during today’s practice,” James continued, not noticing that your mind had wandered of the brunette girl.
“She even joked that if we’d get married, I could change my name to James James,” he laughed. You didn’t particularly see the humor in that.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I know I said that we would study together in the library tomorrow, but I think we should move that to Sunday.”
You frowned, “can we not just move it to the evening then?” you asked, wondering if James was really planning on spending the entirety of your birthday with someone else.
“Well, it’s from 9 o’clock until 7 o’clock in the evening, and we have a Quidditch party thing afterwards, but it’s more of a teambuilding thing. I can ask them if you can join though?” James offered.
You blinked at him in confusion before offering him a smile in return. “What, no- I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you denied. You assumed that he’d find some time to squeeze in a birthday celebration.
James shrugged. “Suit it yourself, love.”
You didn’t actually think James would forget your birthday. After all, James was literally the perfect boyfriend. He was proud to show you off to people, always ready to lend an ear when you needed to, and most of all showering you with love, any chance he gets.
But we’re all still humans after all, today was very busy so it probably just slipped his mind. That’s completely okay, you told yourself. And so, you tried to push away your thoughts, wanting to enjoy the cake that you and the girls had snuck from the kitchen as a late-night snack.
“Red velvet is the best, I swear,” Lily laughed with a sigh as she let herself fall flat on her back in satisfaction. Marlene agreed wordlessly, preoccupied with stuffing more cake in her mouth.
“Happy birthday again,” Alice smiled kindly at you, and you beamed at her. “Thank you, guys, for today, you shouldn’t have bought me the expensive painting equipment,” you said as you motioned towards the brand-new canvasses, brushes, primer, and oil paint.
“Nonsense,” Marlene replied in mock offense. “But you will paint me one day, right?” She batted her eyelashes at you. You pretended to think about it. “I mean, for 15 galleons?” you joked and then had to rush to take your words back when Marlene agreed without hesitance.
“I was only joking,” you laughed and swatted her lightly.
“Eh, leave the joking to your boyfriend and the other marauders,” Lily teased you. “Speaking of them,” she started, and you looked down, knowing the follow up question. “What did they get you for your birthday?
“Well,” you recalled your day so far. “Peter, Remus and Sirius gifted me an expandable suitcase, so I can put all my collectables in there.”
“Damn,” Alice whispered. You sheepishly scratched your head. “Yeah, it took me by surprise too. Last I checked, it cost way too much. I sure hope they acquired it in a legal manner,” you joked.
“I mean, both Sirius and James are well off, so maybe they could afford it and actually bought it,” Alice joked along.
You shrugged. “Oh, James didn’t pitch in for the suitcase. Remus said that he’d told them he was getting something more personal for me,” you said.
“Ugh, what a sap,” Lily commented lightheartedly, and you agreed with a chuckle. “So, what did he get you then?” Lily asked exasperatedly, already expecting something ridiculously grand.
There was a beat of silence.
“Uh, I’m not sure, we didn’t get around to celebrating my birthday together,” you settled on answering.
“What?” Marlene, Lily, and Alice asked in chorus.
“He was busy,” you defended James.
“The entire day?” Marlene squinted her eyes, absolutely seeing through your bullshit excuse. You shrugged in response but nodded your head. “The entire day?” She repeated in disbelief. “Like he couldn’t pop in in the morning or during breakfast?” You shrugged again.
“I guess he forgot,” you mumbled, starting to feel down again. Alice quickly caught on to that and decided to change the subject, trying to cheer you up. “Anyway, should we picnic tomorrow by the lake?”
You exhaled in relief. “I would love that.”
Sirius and James entered their dorms and greeted the other two marauders. “And? Did she like the suitcase?” Sirius immediately asked while he made himself at home on the foot end of Remus’ bed.
“Definitely, like she couldn’t believe it. She even did the happy wiggly dance,” Peter and Remus laughed at the memory. Sirius held his hand up to high five them and grinned in victory. “I told you guys, she needed someplace to put all that stuff she collects.”
James had been utterly confused since he stepped into the room and was not at all following the conversation. It was definitely about you, he figured that much from the wiggly happy dance. But what on earth were they buying you stuff for?
“You guys gave Y/N a suitcase?” He asked cluelessly.
“Yeah, why?” Remus inquired, eyebrows raised. “Is that not up to standard to the great James Potter?” He sarcastically asked, already expecting James to start gloating about whatever he got as a present for you.
“Well, if you guys have that much money in abundance to spend, save some for great pranks too,” James complained jokingly.
Sirius stared at James in confusion. “Huh?”
Peter tilted his head while examining James’ facial expression of confusion and then hesitantly asked. “James, did you forget about Y/N’s birthday?”
Time stopped for James, and he could hear his heart beat loudly, blood rushing to his ears as realization dawned on him, entirely to slowly.
“Merlin!” he loudly cursed, wide-eyed.
At his confession, Remus and Sirius’ jaws slacked. “You forgot!?” They shouted in unison.
Peter covered his ears at their yelling.
“Y/N!”
You turned your head, trying to find the source and halted in your step when your eyes landed on James who was frantically making his way through the hordes of students, crowding the corridor. He had been trying to find you since breakfast.
“Yes?”
James stopped in front of you, out of breath, a little flushed in the face and an apologetic expression adorned his face. You already knew what he was going to say and held up your hand to stop him in advance.
“I don’t need your apology,” you sighed out. James words died in his throat, and it took a moment for him to break out of it. “Love, I’m a right twit, I know.” He unintentionally shot you a defeated look with puppy eyes that you couldn’t help but melt for.
“How was your day yesterday?” was all you ended up asking as you continued making your way towards the library. You motioned with your head for him to follow you.
“I missed you,” James sincerely answered. He still pouted, seemingly upset, but all directed at himself of course. “I can’t believe I forgot,” he frowned. “I’ll work to be the greatest boyfriend again, I promise.” His eyes sparkled with determination, and you couldn’t suppress your amusement anymore, a smile lifting the corners of your lips.
“Well, you’re not off the hook yet, Potter.”
“Not the last name,” James whined. You shot him an unimpressed look that had him accept defeat.
“So, no kisses for you anymore,” you huffed for extra measure, in retaliation to his complaint.
“Wait what? You can’t do that, that’s so mean,” James immediately protested.
“For a week,” you added. “Forgetting about me yesterday was mean to me too.”
James’ hand made its way to intertwine with yours. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But this is still okay, right?”
You squeezed his hand. “It’s twelve o’clock right now. Do you want to have lunch first or study a little bit in the library?”
James gave you a bright smile. “Whatever you want.”
“I want you to choose,” you retorted.
“Lunch, please.”
James spent the following week almost draped over you. His entire body leaned into you, your hands always together, and every time he came in for a kiss, he reminded himself to respect your wishes, which left him burying his face in your neck instead.
It was Sunday and you hummed peacefully to yourself while you were sketching in the boys’ dorms, on James’ bed. You sat in the middle of his crossed legs, his arms were wrapped around your middle. His chin was rested on your shoulder which left him with the perfect view on your drawing in progress.
“I love you,” he quietly mumbled.
“I know, Jamie. I love you too,” you nudged him. James’ arms slipped away, and he moved away from you, you frowned at the loss of contact and warmth, leaning into the pillows behind you instead. “What are you-?”
James moved in front of you and nestled himself between your own crossed legs, back to your stomach, exchanging the position you had previously been in. He slouched a bit until his head leaned against your chest.
“My, you’re putty today, love,” you teased him softly. You closed your sketchbook and started untangling his curly hair.
“I’m really sorry I missed your birthday,” James whispered. You melted.
You chuckled and shrugged. “Sometimes things slip our mind. It just made me feel a little bummed out, that’s all.”
James hummed. “Well, I can promise you that I won’t forget about our anniversary though,” he said, voice filled with determination. You laughed. “That’s still a long time from now Jamie,” you mused.
“I’m already counting down the days so that there’s absolutely no way that I’ll forget it.”
“Hey James?”
James looked up at you.
“It’s twelve o’clock.”
James blinked twice and then a wolfish grin appeared as he practically jumped up and turned to face you, tackling you to bring you in for a kiss.
You groaned at the impact of your head against the wall behind you and James grinned sheepishly in apology before grabbing your hips and pulling you further down the bed to make space so he could finally press his lips to yours, all while completely melting into you and sighing in relief at the feeling.
And for two weeks, everything seemed to be perfectly fine. Until Rosalie joined the picture again, that is.
Dorcas sat next to you in class and elbowed you softly. “What’s up with James and that girl?” she whispered. You looked up from your notes and glanced at James who was nodding enthusiastically at a drawing that Rosalie was showing James. It was a portrait of him, and you couldn’t help but feel a pit in your stomach at how well she drew him.
Features that were so on point, up to the little details like the three tiny birthmarks that seem to disappear amidst his freckles and that one freckle on his upper lip that you often pressed an extra peck to. You knew that for such a detailed, accurate and hyper realistic drawing, Rosalie had probably spent a lot of time studying him up close.
You averted your attention back to Dorcas and forced a smile. “She’s their new Chaser,” was all you replied.
Dorcas sent another skeptical look in James and Rosalie’s direction but didn’t comment on it any further.
“Guess what, love?!” James burst into the common room where you and Remus were calmly reading. James skipped over to the couch you were sitting on and pressed a kiss to your temple.
“What?” you entertained him.
“I just made a deal with the kitchen elves and they’re going to cook us a candle lit dinner for our anniversary,” James triumphantly grinned from ear to ear as if he had just won the Quidditch cup.
Your eyes widened and you jumped up in excitement and disbelief. “How did you manage to do that?” You curiously pondered.
James puffed his chest. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he secretively replied, and you huffed and swatted him with a laugh. “We’re all magicians here, James,” you pointed out with a pout.
James leaned down to press a kiss to your pouted lips. “Just enjoy dinner with me. It’s in three weeks.” He was not about to tell you that he made a deal with the elves to go and clean the kitchen every day after supper for three weeks.
“Thank you, James,” you said, voice muffled because you had your face buried in his neck, arms around him in a tight hug.
You were incredibly excited for your anniversary, having a surprise for him as well, as you managed to get him tickets to the Quidditch world cup.
You waited for James in the changing rooms, Gryffindor had just lost an important match to Slytherin, and you knew that James would be feeling down. The Gryffindor team walked in, and you got up from the bench you were seated on. When you found James, he immediately came in for a hug.
“You did great out there, love. I’m proud of you,” you whispered.
“But it wasn’t enough,” James frowned. “They’re just always better than us, it doesn’t even matter how much we practice, because in the end, we can’t beat them.”
You stroked his hair in a consoling manner.
“And what’s the point if we can’t bloody beat Slytherin,” James spat out in frustration. You threw Sirius a look over James’ shoulder.
“Don’t say that, Jamie. You’ve won the last two games, and you don’t have to win against them,” you tried. Apparently, that was not what James wanted to hear and you would later beat yourself up for seeming to discard his feelings.
James pulled away with a frown. “But it’s not enough!” You flinched at his loud tone. “I just want-, It’s,” he let out an aggravated sound. “You don’t understand, okay. The feeling of constantly losing to the same opponent, its-“ James was struggling to find the words and you tried to apologize, alarmed, and feeling guilty.
Rosalie showed up behind James and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we’ll get them next time, James. She just doesn’t get it because she’s not on the team.”
You felt hurt by her dismissive statement and wanted to retort when James agreed with her. “Exactly, Y/N, you don’t even play Quidditch, you don’t know what this feels like.”
Your heart sank in embarrassment and hurt, and your mouth formed an inaudible ‘oh’.
“Come on, Prongs. It’s not her fault we lost, don’t take it out on her,” Sirius moved to stand next to James and swatted him lightly. James sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched his nose.
“’m sorry, love. That was totally uncalled for,” he admitted, and he reached his arm for you to pull you back in for a hug. You subtly evaded his arm and swiftly moved yourself to the door.
“No, no. I actually need to go meet up with Peter, so uh. You guys have fun. And yeah,” you awkwardly did a mini wave with your hand towards the  team and fled.
Sirius leaned in towards James. “Good job, mate.”
“Sod off.” You didn’t leave his mind at all for the rest of the night.
You were about to scream bloody murder when you were shaken awake in the middle of the night, but a hand covered your mouth and when your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could vaguely make out your boyfriend.
“James?” you incredulously whispered. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?”
James motioned to his invisibility cloak. “Sleep with me?” He asked and gave you a pleading look. You folded and so you tripled to the boy’s dorms under the cloak and then nestled yourself in his arms. A leg draped over his while you two fell into a peaceful slumber.
James was once again looking everywhere for you. This time with a slight sense of dread instead of the usual excitement.
When he finally found you and saw that you were laughing along with Sirius, he hesitated. He was halfway through changing his mind on addressing the issue with you when you called out to him.
“Morning!” you said, and you slid a sandwich in his direction. “You missed breakfast today, everything okay?" You asked.
James glanced at Sirius, and he excused himself and then left.
“I know we were going to go to Hogsmeade for our anniversary, but Rosalie managed to get tickets to a Quidditch game of our favourite team, and we even get to meet them afterwards. Like I can ask them for tips on playing, it’s just such an opportunity…” He trailed off when he noticed your fallen expression, which you quickly tried to cover up.
“Hey, that sounds like an amazing opportunity,” you assured him because it was true.
“We’re still on for that candle lit dinner, though?” You tried to joke, but it came off more as an insecure question.
James immediately enveloped you in a big hug. “Of course we are, 10 o’clock in the evening and I promise I’ll make it up to you afterwards.”
You laughed quietly. “You better.”
Your eyes crinkled in laughter as the kitchen elves tried their best to cheer you up and keep you occupied while James was hopefully simply running late. But by the time it was one o’clock in the morning, you decided to call it a night and thanked the elves for teaching you two new dishes and chess.
On your way to the dorms, you heard hushed whispers around the corner. When you turned it, however, you saw it was empty, but you knew better. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, contemplating if you wanted to do this now or tomorrow.
“James,” you called out.
There was a beat of silence and then the invisibility cloak slid off to reveal James and Rosalie, sneaking back inside the castle.
“Love? What are you doing up at this hour-“ he stopped halfway through his sentence with a curse.
“Wait, Y/N, this is my fault, not James’,” Rosalie piped up, but you were done with her.
“Go.”
Rosalie shot James one last glance and when he didn’t look back at her, instead still frozen, attention focused on you, she scurried away.
“I lost track of time. We went to have drinks with the players and time flashed by so quickly and then I completely forgot. And then Rosalie got sick, so -“
“Stop talking about her for a moment.” James looked at you, confused.
“Every single time, it is always you and Rosalie. It’s always her.” You didn’t bother hiding your hurt feelings anymore.
“But what about me,” you whispered defeatedly.
James shook his head. “No, it’s not her. I swear it’s not. It’s bad timing.” he firmly stated. “This isn’t even her fault, it was me and my enthusiasm to go to the game, I-“
“Why do you keep defending her?” You cut him off, allowing tears to well up in your eyes. James bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry,’ he eventually admitted.
“Yeah,” you breathed out exhaustedly. “You always are, aren’t you? Just like you always promise to make it up to me.”
“I will,” he weakly defended. “We can go back to the kitchen right now, eat food, celebrate our anniversary,” his eyes desperately searched yours for forgiveness, but in the darkness of the castle, he couldn’t find any.
“I spent three hours in the kitchen already, I’ve eaten the great food that the elves prepared for me, and our anniversary has already passed,” you coldly stated.
James’ eyes averted to his own feet, ashamed.
You tightly shut your eyes for a moment. And basked in the silence. When you opened your eyes again, you took in James’ posture. He seemed so very small all of a sudden.
Then you walked straight past him, while he was still frozen in place. When you passed him, you halted next to him and turned your head towards him. “I really hope she’s worth it, James.”
This seemed to snap him out of it, and he turned around in a flash. “Wait!” he called out in panic and immediately lowered his voice. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?” His eyes were pleading, and he looked distraught.
You scoffed softly to yourself. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m tired, so I’m going to bed, or else I actually will,” you replied shortly and retreated to your dorm.
Sirius whistled when James entered the room and unknowingly started to rub salt right in James’ well-deserved wound. “One o’clock in the morning, damn Prongs. You two must’ve had fun in the kitchen. How was the food? Did you like the present? I helped her with that,” he boasted.
James shook his head, “I messed it up again, Padfoot.”
Sirius eyes squinted ever so slightly at James. “No way,” he ended up asking in disbelief.
James didn’t answer right away, and Sirius got up out of bed and approached James. Then he shoved him. “Tell me you showed up for your anniversary, Prongs.”
James who had been looking at the ground finally met Sirius eye to eye, tears pooling in his own eyes. “We just lost track of the time, and then Ro-“
“If you finish that sentence and it’s about Rosalie, I will hurt you, James Potter.”
James helplessly looked at Sirius. “But you guys have it all wrong. It’s not her fault-“
Sirius grabbed James by the collar and shook him for good measure. “Prongs, mate. Wake the bloody hell up, would you.” His eyes bore straight through James’.
“Rosalie fancies you. It’s as clear as day. She demands your attention at all times. Asks for Quidditch practice, specifically with you, for an entire day. She diminishes our Y/N’s value in front of everyone, is pretentious and makes it seem as if you two are more compatible. She tries so hard to have so many common things with you like her last name, and she literally has a sketchbook full of portraits of you, which is rather creepy. Besides, she fully knew you were supposed to be back by ten o’clock for your date. I get it man, it’s subtle, but you’re smarter than that.”
Sirius released James and sighed. “And worst of all, Prongs, is that you let it happen. And every time you do, she wins a little more until Y/N will stop playing this stupid game for you.”
James let Sirius’ words sink in and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how right Sirius was.
“I don’t do it on purpose, Pads. Believe me. I know everything looks terrible, but I didn’t realize it.” James took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes tiredly, and pulled a hand through his locks.
“I forgot her birthday, but it was just a busy day, and I don’t really have a choice as captain but to train the new players. A-and I immediately apologized to Y/N when I realized what a twat I was in the locker room. And I didn’t miss my anniversary for a date with another girl or anything, there was a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet people I’ve looked up to, and I know it looks bad together because Rosalie was involved in all those instances, but I never meant to hurt Y/N. You know I’m in love with her.”
James started pacing through the room. It was a miracle that the others hadn’t woken up yet.
“Okay, I believe you,” Sirius decided after consideration. “But maybe try properly explaining and apologizing to Y/N. And then confront Rosalie and tell her to sod off.”
James nodded. “Yeah, yeah okay. I’ll do that.” Sirius looked a little skeptically at James and then patted his shoulder before climbing back in bed, while James did the same.
He had almost fallen back asleep when James asked, “Do you think she’d forgive me?”
Sirius was quiet. He’d seen the hurt look on your face multiple times and had instead tried to keep your mind off of James whenever he saw you stare at James and Rosalie.
“I think she might break up with me, Sirius,” James whispered in a small voice. He couldn’t sleep, his mind was filled with guilt, distress and you.
“Go sleep James, we’ll figure it out in the morning.”
You took a deep breath before pushing through the grand doors of the Great Hall. You spotted the empty seat amongst the marauders and let your eyes slide across the Gryffindor table to look for James.
You found him talking with Rosalie, and you almost wanted to turn around and leave, when you spotted her sour face when he finally walked back to his seat. James wore a relieved expression and was greeted by the marauders with pats on the back in congratulations.
Sirius spotted you and waved you over, scooting over himself so you could squeeze in.
“Good morning,” you gratefully smiled at the boys and sat down. James absentmindedly loaded your favourite food on your plate out of habit and then hesitated. He hadn’t really dared look you in the eyes yet, still ashamed after lying awake all night, thinking of all the things he’d done.
When your stretched out hand appeared in his sight, he looked up and saw a kind expression on your face. He handed you the plate and relaxed a little.
“Sirius tells me you want to explain some things to me, so unless you have a date with Rosalie over there,” you gestured to the girl who was not looking happy. “We could talk after breakfast?”
James nodded eagerly, eyes wide. “Yes, please.” He stared at you, and almost frowned, wondering why you didn’t seem as angry as you did last night, or rather this early morning.
You noticed his stare and knew what he was thinking. “I told you; I was tired, upset and couldn’t deal with it then. But I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I have thought about everything and decided that I’m not going to rashly throw away two years of unconditional love and friendship between us, for things that I feel like you want to explain to me. It’s not so black and white in decisions when it comes to love and my love isn’t that fragile.”
“Thank you,” James breathed out, already feeling like crying.
“Don’t thank me, thank Pads, he is vouching for you,” you hummed. “But your explanation better be worth it. And that’ll be at least two weeks without kisses.”
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thvhoe · 3 months
Text
Slipping through my fingers | JJK
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PAIRING: BOXER!Jungkook x Ballerina!Reader
Jungkook is frustrated, and you're the only one who can calm him down
WARNINGS: Disgusting amounts of fluff, Jungkook tired tk be a badboy, lowkey succeeds, lowkey doesnt, fighting, mentions of blood and bruises, long hair jk, sentimental stuff, Christmas trauma?, oc is super joyful, she makes him talk about his feelings, small argument scene, cringe nicknames, polar opposites, KISSING
A/N: Happy Holidays 🩵
Jungkook was convinced that he was destined to be a fighter. He was a natural In the ring, his fists speaking for themselves–proving what he was meant to do was this.
But despite his insane training and fights, something, or rather someone, captured his eye–tugging at his heartstrings.
That someone was you.
Despite being surrounded by the boxing arena's dark ashy scenery, you stood out like a burst of colour on a white canvas. Your smile lighting up the entire room, piercing straight into his heart.
Your outfit stood out against the bland colours of the rest of the place. Bright, colourful outfits were your thing, something you thrived to pick out each morning.
Yellows and pinks, blues and greens.
But it was your cute little head tilt that drew him in the most. It was a little, unintentional act, yet it was absolutely endearing in Jungkook's eyes. He'd grin to himself, remembering how he'd use his tattooed finger to gently tilt your head back into place each time. He loved your confusion and the giggle that left your lips when you noticed what he was doing. He loved it all.
"Dude, you okay?" Namjoon's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, the gentle pat on his back breaking out of his daydream–you here, sitting neatly, looking radiant as ever. He could almost hear your cheering, giving him with the encouragement he never needed until you came along.
It was a vivid daydream, so real that he could almost reach out and touch it. Touch you.
But the harsh reality hits him like a brick as he realizes you weren't actually there. You were just a spark of his imagination, a comforting thought. A sigh escapes his lips–relief.
Relief because he knows youre safe and sound at the ballet academy. Rather than here.
Neatly tucked away from any potential harm, shielding you from the evil in a place like this. Another sigh slips past his lips as he clings to that comforting thought. Youre safe.
Youre safe.
"You're thinking about her again, aren't you?" Joon asks as he lets out a breathy laugh, his amusement clear. "I can tell, you know," he continues, shaking his head playfully punching Jungkook's shoulder in brotherly fashion
Jungkook just rolls his eyes in response, doing nothing to hide his annoyance. He throws a sweaty towel in his direction, a curse slipping from his lips as he does so. "How many times have I told you? No talk about Y/n at the gym," Jungkook grumbles, his tone bordering a snarl.
But that wasnt new. Jungkook wasnt dangerous, but he might as well could be when it came to you.
His seriousness about keeping you away from this place was set in stone.
It wasn't that you were a secret, far from it. He loved showing you off. But his protective instincts kick in if anyone dared to bother you.
-
Mrs. Chuu walked you through the steps while music played loudly. You knew them by heart at this point, but it was never a terrible idea to have her help when practicing, especially for such an important dance as this.
A couple of critics were on their way to visit you, take notes, and possibly admit you into a two-week program abroad.
Another step into the professional life of ballet. If you werent already in it.
It wasn't long, but it felt like it. Especially now that you have someone here you care about and don't want to leave. Jungkook.
You close your eyes for a second, thinking about him, the tone of his voice on the other end of the phone line when you spoke this morning telling you he was stressed. You figured it was anxiety for his fight on friday, or just lack of sleep
You weren't sure how you'd tell him about the whole program thing in the first place, so you'd tell him once you were sure you got in. You didn't want to add to his tension for nothing.
"What's on your mind, dear?" Her voice is smooth and calming, but your bright smile reveals your thoight even before you say a single word.
"Jungkook," you say, his name flowing off your tongue with the ease
"Am I going to have to have a talk with that young boyfriend of yours, huh?" She laughs, filling the room with brightness "He's distracting you," she observes, her tone becoming more solemn.
Where shes right, shes right.
You swiftly shake your head. "I was just thinking of a way to cheer him up after practice." Playing with your fjngers you pout looking down, lost in thought again. "He sounded tense when we talked earlier," you admit
"Try to think of something after class. I need you to be at your best next week," she says, referring to the opportunity you've been given.
You nod in agreement–Ballet was your passion and your life. But so was Jungkook.
-
The air is cold as you step outside the venue, your eyes scouring the parking lot for your boyfriend, hoping to avoid walking through the puddles and puddles of water that cover the usual dry gravel ground.
But when you only see the pink ice cream van that stops by every day even in the winter, your shoulders slumb as you sit down on the dry stairs, turning on your phone and tapping on Jungkook's chat, the last message just being a simple good morning in response to his message, after that he called you and you talked for 10 minutes before your practise started.
A soft sigh leaves your lips as you scroll through your instagram feed, but not even the cute cat videos on your home page could make the wait more entertaining
It was over 7 hours ago since you last talked, and both of you should have finished your work for the day; Jungkook offering to pick you up before he hung up this morning.
You weren't impatient, and you didn't mind waiting a little longer because traffic is a thing, and it's becoming worse because of all the people doing last-minute Christmas shopping. But it's already been 15 minutes, and Jungkook was never more than 5 minutes late.
You're so preoccupied with your thoughts that you don't hear or see the large Harley park right in front of your feet, your wide eyes peering up but being blinded by his vehicle's lights until he turns them off.
Damnit, all this thinking numbed even your ears.
"Sorry for the wait," your boyfriend says as he steps off the bike and walks over to you. Leather pants and jacket making you almkst drool. Almost.
As he lands a little, adorable kiss on your lips, your lips twist into a smile. "Missed me?" he taunts, dipping his head and pinching your side in that familiar way he always did.
"So much," you tease back, poking his chest playfully. "You had me concerned for a second there, weirdo. I thought something had happened," you moan into his chest, taking in the scent of his deodorant and body.
He throws his head back and lets out a low groan. "Had to take a smoke break before coming here, today was shit," he grumbles, his mood now at rock bottom.
Oh?
"Did someone bother you?" you inquire, tilting your head, and Jungkook knew that moment, that from now on his day could only get better.
Its only then that you notice a small bruise under his lip. Jungkook never got bruises.
"Not someone, rather, who didn't bother me today," he says, hissing and rolling his eyes. "Christmas has got people acting like idiots," he continues, and you laugh.
"Did you just indirectly call me an idiot?" you joke, knowing he wasn't referring to you. But it was still fun to ruffle his feathers a bit
"Don't start," he warns, tilting your head back into a more upright position with his tattooed finger, knuckles wearing a few scars from previous fights. Ones where you werent part of his life yet. "Let's get out of here."
-
Jungkook didnt hate Christmas. He hated how people acted this time around. The stupid swsaters, stupid presents and stupid unnecessary decorations. The fake smiles. Fake happiness.
He was sure, however, that the smile on your face was genuine as you pointed up at the large Christmas tree in the middle of Seoul's largest Christmas market.
You'd dragged him here, of course, and to his surprise, he didn't dislike it altogether, despite the fact that he was certain it was because you were here with him.
And when you approach him with that dazzling smile of yours, the hand that wass itching towards his lighter and cigs in the backpocket of his trousers, immediately tugs them back.
"Stand in front of the Christmas tree Kook, i wanna take a pic" Your voice cuts through the festive music coming from the speakers hanging from the ornaments and surrounding trees.
He laughs as he raises a brow, the mere image of him standing in front of a Christmas tree makes him cringe. But who is he to deny you what you want when you look as cute as you did right now
Your fingers struggle with your phone for a second, straining to remove your gloves before snapping a couple pics of your adorable boyfriend.
"You look so handsome," you mutter as you take a few more photos and motion for him to come look at them once you were done.
Some were fuzzy, but despite his complaints, you decided to not delete them–you argued that they had a particular aesthetic to them, and Jungkook couldn't fight back. Maybe you were right.
"This one's my favourite," you chuckle as you show the photo, focusing in on how he scrunches his nose while maintaining a serious expression.
"Don't let anyone else see these," Jungkook sighs, embarrassed by how adorable he looks all dressed up for the cold night.
"Nah, these are just for me," you grin, switching off your phone and clasping his hand, the start of a new christmas song making you hum along as you walked through the market, stopping a few times to look at some of the stores or buy some snacks.
But its when you tried to persuade the marshmallow selling lady to give you guys a discount, that Jungkook couldn't help but smile.
And you didnt know it yet, but Jungkooks day got better the moment he picked you up from practise. He just thought it was cute how much effort you were putting into making him feel good.
Youd call him evil if you knew, so he kept it to himself.
-
Earlier
His fists hit his opponent's like there's no tomorrow, his strength increasing by the second as Jay–a newbie who'd begged and begged Jungkook for a fight all day until Jungkook finally agreed to shut him up–falls to the ground, face bruised in a way that Jungkook knew would make you cry.
That's why he didn't want you around. This is not your scene. Not your way of life.
Jungkook's thoughts temporarily return to you, but just as quickly as he threw Jay to the ground, he stands up and punches Jungkook in the face, deliberately targeting his lower lip.
"What the fuck?" Jungkook yells, pulling off his gloves and punching Jay in the face with his bare fist before Joon moves in to stop him. "The fight ends when the opponent's on the floor, you fucking idiot!" Jungkook yells, his hand clenched and bruised, fuelled by rage.
Jay, on the other hand, is too preoccupied with holding his wounded eye to pay attention.
"Dude, he's new, he doesn't-" Namjoon tries to explain, but Jungkook dismisses him by shaking his head, walkinb off and toiching his lower lip with his finger. Shit. You would totally never let him hear the end of it if you saw him like this.
-
Present
You grasp his hand and draw him away from the crowd before planting a quick kiss on his cheek and running your fingers over it. The small scar on it making a frown form on your forehead, but as quickly as it comes, it also disappears.
"Kook, at least crack a smile today, hmm?" You pout, and Jungkook sighs before kissing you, the soft feeling of his familiar lips sending butterflies through your entire body, making you inch closer to him
"Just a rough day, sugar." He mumbles against them after, but when you frown, he knows his answer doesn't quite cut it.
"Thats what youve been saying all day, but I..." you shrug, "Is there anything I can do to brighten your day, even if it's already-" you check your phone "-eight pm?" You bite your lower lip as you wait for an answer.
There's a brief pause, but Jungkook, as always, keeps his concerns to himself, handing you your cup of hot chocolate and reaching into his back pocket for his Harley keys. The feeling of his cigs next to the keys makes his mouth twitch, and the need to smoke one is almost overwhelming.
"Let me drive you home, yeah?" He dismisses your earlier question, your hand tightening around the hot cup as you walk back to the parking lot hand in hand.
"Wanna spend the night?" you ask, moving in close, your cheek against his arm, his hand clutching yours, and for a brief moment, you notice a faint smile forming on his lips. A win is a win. "My parents aren't home," you add, though it was very much obvious the moment you asked him to stay.
"Do you want to?" Jungkook's voice is a little harsher, not rude, but somewhat anxious.
He hums in response to your nod. Long hair fallig into his perfect face as he looks down at you, scrunching up his nose, thinking, then relxing it again. What youd do to take a peak inside his mind
"I have practice at 7 am tomorrow," he says, implying that staying over might not be the best idea. However, you, like him, simply hum.
Two could play the humming game as you liked to call it. At times where Jungkook shut down, and all he did was hum or give short answers.
Call it childish. You thought it was a great way to tease him.
"I could keep you company-" you begin, but your words are cut off as you both look at each other. Knowing
As he gives you a harsh look, his hand lowers yours. Letting go, and running it through his already messy hair. Agitated.
"No," he says as he unlocks his Harley.
"But-"
"Y/n, I said no," his voice remains calm, despite the fact that his thinking is not. Jungkook was never controlling, only when it came to the gym. It was a blessing and a curse, not that youd ever let him comand you around, Jungkook knew better than to underestimate you.
But the short sentence left you fuzzy.
Y/n. He rarely addressed you by your name.
Sugar or bubu being his go to's, even when he got mad sometimes.
You grasp his shirt and pull him closer as he goes for one of the helmets in the trunk.
Jungkook is used to it. Your actions speak volumes, the silent language remaining calm, similar to him but for entirely different reasons.
"I want you to stay over, Kook," you say firmly, silently appealing this time. The prospect of Jungkook not feeling well would keep you up all nighg, and whether or not he tells you why, you just need him close, as much as he needs you.
-
Youd stopped at the convenience store on your way home to get some snacks. It was like a tradition for you, a place you went for late night cravings, movie nights or just to grab a drink and chill at the beach.
Despite the fact that you had a small disagreement before, the atmosphere between you had improved, none of you really giving itba second thought as you enter the shop–small LED lights lighting up the room, low music playing through the speakers as you hum along
You were joking and goofing around as you walked through the snack aisle, Jungkook laughing at your stupid jokes as you walked around hand in hand, his rings feeling cold against your bare fingers, but you ddint mind.
An older lady only shook her head, a frown on her lips at your antics, only making you both laugh even harder, once she left.
After a second of looking around your gaze was drawn to a pack of strawberry flavored gummies, your favourite, but it was just a bit out of reach, making you stand on your tippy toes as you tried your best to get them. Usually you had no issue, but it seems as if the store had relocated them onto he very top shelf
Jungkook just smiles as he watches you struggle for a minute before he hands you the pack of gummies effortlessly with a smirk, his raised brow making you pout as you mutter "i couldve gotten them myself" under your breath
He only shakes his head as he reaches for a pack of chips unbothered by your huff, as he walks up and paid for everything before heading out the store close behind you, his hand in yours as you lead him back to his harley.
The sun was now fully gone as the moon lit up the sky, a small brise of air hitting both your faces
He took off his jacket and handed it to you without hesitation. It was as if he had a sixth sense, always knowing when you got cold. But before you could possibly make a protest, tell him that he probably needs the jacket more than you do because you were already wearing one, he had already helped you on your seat behind him
Starting the engine, he sat in the driver's seat with his back to you. "You good?" he turns slightly to check on you, an amazing view for you to catch a glimpse of his sculpted jawline.
When you nod he feels your body lean into his, your head resting against his back, giving him the go to start driving off.
He didnt say it, but he loved how much more comfortable you were getting riding with him on his bike, a smile forming on his face whne he remembered the first few times;
"Im not getting on that thing"
"Oh but you are"
-
Jungkook rarely comes in through the front door–he's more used to the tree-climbing routine hed started ever since he met you. It was his only way of seeing you sometimes.
He didnt mind, he liked it when you gave him that "really?" expression, whenever he showed up unannounced. Youd end up making out on your bed not even 10 mjnutes later anyway, your hands entangled in his hair as he tried to get as close to you as humanly possible
Hed seen your kitchen and living room a couple of times when he was staying over, sneaking down to grab a glass of water without waking up your parents. But of course he wouldnt ever tell you that.
Your coats hang at the entrance, your light pink pair of uggs adorning next to the doormat as you fixed your eyeliner in the mirror over it.
"You look good" Jungkook jokes as he stands behind you, hands reaching over your belly as he pulls you close and planst a small but soft kiss on your cheek before retrieving and letting you unload your groceries in the kitchen.
It takes you a second to decide between hot chocolate and tea while Jungkook sits down on the couch, scrolling through netflix for a movie that's so bad it's good. One that would make you laugh from how cringe it is. Same old.
"Kook, marshmallows?" you yell from the kitchen, placing some on your hot chocolate but hesitating with his. He wasnt a sweet tooth so maybe marshmallowswere a little much.
"Nah, I'm fine," he responds, kicking off his shoes as he puts on a christmas movie trilogy that showed up on your netflix recommended before walking over to help you set up the snacks on the livingroom table.
"I think thats all" you mutter as you take a look back at the kitchen, scanning it for a second before humming and taking a seat next to Jungkook. Your fingers reach out instantly, tenderly brushing aside a stray strand of hair that threatened to cover his doe eyes.
You sigh as you look at him, and you find yourself instinctively scrunching up your nose. He was so handsome.
The movie is playing in the background, but all you can think about is your half-empty hot chocolate and Jungkook's hand on your tigh, rubbing up and down, to the left and right, squeezing the skin and smoothing it with his palm.
When you place your legs above his, burying your face into his neck and leaving a trail of soft kisses, he shifsts in his seat.
Jungkook smelled like perfume and cigarettes and was still cold to the touch
You hum. "Kook the movies boring," you moan into the quiet, his hand that was scratching your back coming to a rest as he reclines in his seat and nods
"Fuck thank you for saying something, I couldn't spend another hour wtaching this shit," he groans, making you laugh. Your face now inches away from his as he leans in for a kiss.
You tilt your head in curiosity because, while Jungkook loved kissing you, he had never kissed you as many times as he did today. Not that you disliked it. Quite the contrary.
"You've got chocolate on your lip," you manage to murmur in between kisses, his brow furrowed as he wipes his palm over his lip, never cleaning the area until you brush your thumb over it. "Done,"
You stare at each other for a hot minute, noses touching yet lips miles apart
You feel a warmth surrounding you as Jungkook's hand softly squeezes your hip, a familiar, reassuring action.
His hand rises, gently guiding your head into a more comfortable posture. And youre thankful. He knows everything about you, including those cute quirks that may cause neck pain later.
Youre about to say something when the slight sound of rain outside could be heard above the silent glances and comfortable silence, your tilting looking behind you outside to watch the storm unfold as you sat comfortably and dry in the livingroom.
Part of you felt bad for the wildlife outisde that had to seek shelter.
Which makes you think-
For the second time this evening, you ask, "How are you feeling?"
Jungkook shifts uneasily beneath you on the sofa, his gaze darting between you and your neck as he groans. "Sugar-" he starts, but you gently cut him off, placing a calming hand on his solid chest.
"I just-" you begin, "-want to know you're okay." Your fingers brush against his cheek once again. "Tell me you're fine," you say quietly, your gaze on his.
Jungkook's hand caresses yours, cradling it with a softness that betrays his usual stern facade.
He gently guides your hand back down to your lap after kissing it lightly. A soft smile runs across his lips "Do you really think i could be in a bad mood when I'm with you, sugar? I've been fine since I saw you smile earlier," he rasps out, throwing his head back in embarrassment "hate it when you make me talk all emotional and shit"
Now a giggle leaves your lips as you pat his chest "well if you told me you were fine all along i wouldnt have to make you say this stuff" you tease back, whispering a low barely audible "although i like it when you get all sentimental" you wink making him roll his eyes
"Youre the epitome of a princess you know that?" He shakes his head adjusting you on his lap, making you feel closer.
Not that its a bad thing, he thinks to himself
"Gotta make sure you wont ever slip through my fingers" you point at him accusingly "you love to do that sometimes"
2K notes · View notes
frankly-ricciardo · 13 days
Text
LOST IN THE PADDOCK.
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MV1 X FEM!READER
summary getting lost in the paddock and bumping into the current world champion was definitely not on your bingo card.
cw amara is the only oc, no use of y/n. this is my first time writing rpf since middle school, so bear with me. ALSO, this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.
face claims girls on pinterest but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want.
masterlist | taglist
"Ah, fuck," you mumble to yourself, panickedly walking away from the direction you came from while also looking for your best friend.
You call her name a few times in hopes of her popping her head out of the Ferrari building's corner but to no avail. The group and guides you had been with are nowhere to be found, and you have to avoid bumping into employees wearing the entire rainbow as they hurry around you.
You curse the moment you decided to enter the giveaway for those tickets. Although you weren't a Formula One fan, simply because you never fully listened to Amara's ramblings and analysis, when you stumbled across a giveaway of otherwise very expensive tickets, you didn't hesitate to enter it. Despite entering for her, you kept it a secret. The list of entries was long, and the odds were not in your favour, so you didn't want to get her hopes up. You couldn't contain the bubbling excitement when you got the e-mail verifying your win for two Paddock Club tickets for the Spanish Grand Prix.
After announcing it to your obsessed-with-cars best friend, you decided to make it a five-day trip, planning to sightsee Barcelona before the race weekend and spend a free day after it. The first day had been great, albeit tiring, but you had woken up the next day buzzing with anticipation to walk around the paddock. You were the assigned photographer, as you knew Amara would want to listen to everything the guide said. You were content with taking pictures of the place and her. 
Until now. You were definitely not happy with being the camera guy. Because of that, you'd just lost your group in the middle of God-knows-where, with no idea where the building you came from was. So immersed in your grumbling and reading the map on your phone- you collide with someone. Your phone and water bottle slip from your fingers, and the tote bag slips from your shoulder to your elbow. You hiss at the sudden weight shift.
The smell of rich cologne enters your nostrils, but you don't dare look up. Your cheeks burn. "Sorry." You bend down to grab your things.
The man seems to have the same idea, as seconds later, he's on his knees and gathering his things before you can reach them. "No, it's alright! I wasn't looking where I was going."
He extends his full hands with a smile, and you return a sheepish one before grabbing your things. You take a second to look at him. He wears a Red Bull cap and T-shirt, looking like everyone who hurriedly passed you with papers and phones in their hands. I should ask him for directions. He looks like he knows the place.
"Uh...Is there any way you saw a group of people with guides walking around here? I'm supposed to be with them, but I kinda lost them." You lift the camera, further explaining why you're separated from them.
He can't help but chuckle at your flushed cheeks. "Unfortunately, no," he pauses. "Are you here for the weekend?" You nod. "Haven't they given you a map, then? They usually do, to avoid people getting lost."
You show him your phone. Your fingers brush as he pulls it closer to look at the map. "Yeah, they have. But I can't figure it out. Kind of my first time coming to something like this."
He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the phone. "Really?" He sounds surprised. He shouldn't.
You looked out of place compared to the rich-as-fuck members of your group. You had no idea how people dressed for these occasions. Even Amara didn't really know what to pack, so you both agreed to wear comfortable clothes. With the race being during June and in Spain, you would rather be comfortable than sweaty. The only thing tying you to the group was the Paddock Club pass you wore around your neck.
"My best friend is really into this. Loves the sport. I won us the tickets, but I'm barely grasping the basics." You laugh, and he joins. You like the way his eyes crease when he smiles wide.
"Oh, you're the ones that won the tickets! Someone told me about that, I think. Congrats!" You thank him. "How's your weekend so far?"
You shrug. "T'was really fun. Until I got lost while taking pictures of the Ferrari building." He snorts.
Leaning next to him, you try to follow his finger as he scrolls around the zoomed-in map. "You figured it out yet?" 
"I think I have, yeah." He shows you the phone. "We're here. The garages are right there. You'll be watching the race on the floor above them." You nod, slowly grasping your surroundings. Turns out it's easier to figure it out when you're not panicking and a handsome stranger is helping you. "You got it?"
You flash a bright smile. "Yeah, actually, I think I do!" You look at him. "Thank you!"
He shrugs. "No problem. I know it's easy to get lost, especially with so many people running around."
"Still. Thank you. You probably have to be somewhere, and I took up a lot of your time." You step back, turning in the direction he'd shown you.
"Don't worry about it." He fixes his hair under the cap.
"Thanks again." You wave and turn to leave.
"Hey, I forgot to ask you." You turn, confused. "What team are you supporting tomorrow?"
Oh, shit.
It's like a deer caught in headlights situation. You suddenly forget all ten names of the racing teams, desperately racking your brain for an answer. You swear you know all ten.
"Uh..." you nervously clench and unclench your water bottle. "Ferrari?" It's more of a question rather than a statement.
He laughs, and your cheeks return to their warm state. Bad answer?
"Ferrari?" He asks as if saying really? You shrug, and he huffs a laugh.
"I told you I'm not good at this!" 
You hear a shout and simultaneously turn to see a man in a Red Bull shirt beckoning him over. 
"I have to go. But you should watch out for the Red Bulls. I hear they got the better cars!" He winks and waves before walking away from you.
You roll your eyes and smile wide on your lips. Of course, he'd tell you to cheer for his team. The back of your hand touches your cheek. It's incredibly warm. You blame it on the hot weather.
"I'm telling you, mate! She had no idea who I was!" 
Lando rolls his eyes. "And I'm telling you there's no way. Your face is plastered everywhere."
It's Charles's turn to roll his eyes. "Or maybe she was more worried about finding a way back than asking for pictures."
"Yeah, maybe she was being polite. Didn't want to attract any attention to you." Albon adds.
Max shrugs. "I don't know."
"Was she pretty?" Oscar elbows Lando's ribs, as the latter can't contain his giggle.
Max's neck flushes. He shrugs again. "Yeah, I guess."
"Ohhhhh!" George and Lando pat him on the back teasingly, and Charles laughs at Max's expression.
Before they can tease him about this mystery girl more, a woman wearing a headset informs them they have to part ways and get ready for qualifying.
"And Fernando was so bloody nice, too! He was more than happy to sign the cap for you!" Amara waved her hands excitedly as she recounted everything you missed while lost.
You sat near the windows overlooking the pits, watching as the teams got their cars ready for qualifying, far away from the TVs and the crowded tables, not wanting to converse with anyone but your best friend. You chewed on your extremely expensive pasta, intently listening to her meet-up with some of the drivers. 
"I can't believe you met the only driver I know," you whined, lips pouting sadly.
"I swear I didn't realise you were gone until they stopped us to greet the drivers. I was fully into that tyre explanation the guide was giving."
"Gee, thanks." You smile, giving her the middle finger.
"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that. Without you, I wouldn't even be doing the stuff we did today." Amara pulls on your middle finger, and you both giggle.
"So, tell me what you did when you were alone," she urges, sipping her drink.
"You mean when you left me wandering like I was looking for my mother?" She gives you a pointed look. You shrug. "I stopped a Red Bull guy to give me directions. He was helpful and cute. Also took some pictures while I was making my way back here."
"Oh, was he a mechanic or what?"
"I don't know. Didn't catch his name." You smile as you recount his advice. "He told me to look out for the Red Bulls because they have fast cars."
"Well, he's not wrong."
You finish your food and drinks, chatting until qualifying is about to begin. You sit on the balcony, watching the cars drive on the track. You get settled, watching the small screen in front of you, commentary loud in the headset you wear. Qualifying goes by quickly, with Amara explaining things you don't understand and you nodding along.
It's no surprise—in Amara's words—that Max Verstappen came first in his Red Bull. He's the one dominating this season, after all. Second comes Carlos Sainz, and third place takes Lando Norris. Your best friend cheers a little more for him. You shoot her a look, and she just shrugs. "What? He's fast, and he's handsome." You laugh.
You decide to leave before others, not stick around for post-qualifying interviews. Although there's a great chance you can catch drivers, take pictures and get them to sign autographs, you're both far too exhausted to stay. There's always tomorrow, Amara says, and you agree.
You're looking through the Uber app to find a car available to take you back to your hotel when you hear Amara all but screech beside you. You look up, watching as she runs towards a wall decorated with a gigantic poster of three drivers. You recognise Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc and...Oh, shit.
"Can you take a picture here," she calls your name pleadingly.
Your eyes are wide and glued to the tall poster, even as you pull the camera up to your face. You snap a couple of pictures before Amara walks back to you. Her wide smile falters as she watches you stare at the poster intensely. You rack your brain for his name and know that you should know it. Amara has mentioned it before, but you just can't put your finger on it. He's in Red Bull, so it's either Checo Perez or—
"Is that Verstappen?" You point to him.
"Yep. Two-time world champion." Amara looks at the poster and then back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you looking at him like that?"
"He's the guy from earlier."
"What?!"
yourusername
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liked by amaraiscool, yourmom, and 167 others.
tagged amaraiscool
yourusername chatted with a guy today, turns out he's the current world champion.
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amaraiscool i can't believe you met max verstappen
> yourusername amaraiscool i cant believe you let me get lost
amaraiscool and i can't believe you didnt recognise him.
> yourusername amaraiscool hes cuter in person, too bad you didn't get to see him :))
yourfriend1 THE DRESS IS SO CUTE, AMARA WTF DROP THE STORE!!!!!!
liked by yourusername
yourfriend2 johns freaking out rn lol
> yourusername yourfriend2 AW, i bet hes not being as dramatic as amaraiscool was when i told her :,)
> amaraiscool yourusername met THE max verstappen.
"You should totally text him," Amara says between bites.
She offers you a piece of chocolate, and you offer her a bewildered look. The hotel room's TV is playing a random spanish show, but with no subtitles, you can barely grasp what they're saying. Amara is scrolling on TikTok beside you.
"Text who?" You already know who.
"The two-time world champion. Duh." She rolls her eyes.
Amara hadn't stopped talking about the Max interaction since you'd pointed at his gigantic poster. The more she spoke on it, wiggling her eyebrows, the more you blushed. She had gone over a thousand scenarios, all of which you ended up hooking up with him. You had to remind her that despite his popularity, he was a stranger to you. 
"I don't have his number, 'mara. I told you he just helped me find my way."
She flicks your forehead. "That's what Insta is for!" 
"No."
"But why!?" Amara whines in your ear loudly, like a child when you take their candy away.
"It's weird! He's cute and all," you sit up, pointing your finger up," but he doesn't know my name," you put another one up, "he'll think I'm creepy," you point a third one, "and that is if he sees the requested message."
"Uh, you're ruining my scenario-building process."
"That's what Tumblr is for. Leave my quiet, boring life out of this." You dramatically sigh.
"Isn't that how all fanfiction starts? Boring and quiet life turned upside down?" Amara tilts her head.
"I don't know, 'ave never read any." You shrug, lips pursing.
She huffs a laugh, and you hold in yours. "Liar."
There's a pause. You think over Amara's suggestion. Max Verstappen is cute. And it wouldn't hurt to try and get his number. You'd never see him again after this weekend. And the worst he could say is: "Security, please get her out of here!" 
What the fuck am I thinking? He's a literal superstar. Me bumping into him was a one-time thing. 
Ah, fuck it. It's not the end of the world.
"You know what?" Amara turns to look at you. "If I get the chance tomorrow, I'll talk to him. Try and get his number."
Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "What?"
"I mean, I'm never seeing again? Right? It could go either way. He doesn't call for security to escort me like I'm crazy fangirl, or he does, and we pray no cameras recorded the moment."
Amara shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but she can barely hold her wide smile. "Sounds like a plan to me."
"Not much of a plan. I'm just indulging in your delusions."
You share a laugh before you fall back in bed beside her. You shuffle closer to your best friend's side, eager to watch the TikTok edit she is staring intensely at.
"Oh, look, it's your future boyfriend!" 
"Shut up."
1K notes · View notes
ozzgin · 3 months
Note
Request/Idea-
Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)
Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭
Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)
P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible
-👘
Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.
In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!
Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons
Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.
Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior
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Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.
Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.
If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.
“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.
The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.
Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.
Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.
He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.
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onlyswan · 3 months
Note
i’m back to give you my iw!couple brain rot 🤲, please handle with care.
but !! imagine jungkook and oc doing that “see how long we can go without kissing” challenge !! how would fold first? they’re both so competitive but smitten it makes me conflicted. 😣😣
knowing them, jungkook would be twitching his eye just from the thought of being deprived kissies so would oc give in first to let him win? or would jungkook just take what’s his?? 🤔
imagine oc being a blushing mess from staring at jungkook’s face for too long 😵‍💫 THEYRE SO CUTE I CANT THINK STRAIGHT😭🫶
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summary: in which jungkook is twenty-six years old and yet… you still give him butterflies.
idol!jk x reader, established relationship / word count: 0.7k
content/warnings: sexual tension, making out, it’s honestly just them fighting over who gets to be on top
> in which masterlist!
note: hehe hi anonie… sorry… i kindaaa got carried away… i had to write out the thing or else i would’ve gone insane just talking about it <3 (written with love and care) <3
“i don’t understand this challenge.”
“me neither,”
jungkook remains in a hypnotic-like trance, doe eyes trained to your lips stained with a lighter shade of mixed red and brown.
“we’re this close and we can’t kiss…? this is absurd.”
“do they actually do this in bed? with someone on top?” you chuckle as you coyly twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. “i don’t think so?”
“i don’t know. i just wanted you to be comfortable.” he teasingly brushes his nose against yours, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended. “since, you know, we’ll be here a while.”
“oh wow. bringing me to bed, really? you’re that confident?”
he cockily raises an eyebrow. “hm, we both know you won’t be able to resist me here. you’re all over me all the time.”
you try not to roll your eyes in annoyance. and you also both know that you’re just as competitive, if not more.
“oh my god, you,” you mumble. the calm of your voice contrasts the aggressive push of your hand against your boyfriend’s naked chest. “and your stupid arrogance and your stupid need to flaunt your stupid hot body.”
in the blink of an eye, jungkook finds you stradding him, and himself, trapped underneath your body. he blinks in disbelief, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.
“this is dirty.”
you remove his glasses, moving it aside without care. “that’s just your mind.”
okay, perhaps bringing you to bed was a bad idea.
you lean down, slowly, close and then closer— it’s quite ridiculous that he’s nervous as if he doesn’t know what is bound to happen next: he’s thoroughly convinced that you’re going to kiss him.
once he feels your lips ghost over his, mere millimeters away, his eyelids flutter shut.
terrible idea. terrible.
the kiss, much to his disappointment, never happens.
he opens his eyes and your face is suddenly tucked in the space between his neck and shoulders, giggling and shaking and positively amused.
he turns away and squeezes his eyes shut. a painful admit of defeat against your infinite allure. “ah, i’m fucked.”
“we’ll get there later,” you lift your head, tilting his chin to face you.
you smile and scoot closer. so close that your bottom lips grazes his. he fails to remember the last time the two of you touched as chastely, as softly, but it felt like accidentally touching a live wire. he gets a funny feeling in his stomach. butterflies…? he’s twenty-six years old. he must be losing his mind.
“after you lose.”
“that’s not happening, baby.”
“yes, it will.”
“i won’t give up so easily.”
you give him an innocent look. “but i really think you will.”
you stare at each other for a little while, anticipating the other’s next move.
“fuck- yeah, okay-” he grits his teeth, taking advantage of his strength to finally flip back your positions. you’ve had your fun. “you’re right.”
“babe! ru-”
your surprised gasp is cut off by jungkook’s lips crashing on yours— curved into a smirk, you can feel it. your whines are muffled and swallowed by him, wrists caught in his hands and over your head because you were hitting his shoulder and he just wanted to kiss his baby properly.
“you lost,” you remark quietly when he draws back, only inches away, to scatter kisses along your face and down to your neck.
it tickles, you squirm in pleasure when he reaches near your collarbone, but your hands are still tied.
you were supposed to have him underneath you as a hot and flustered mess, not the other way around. damn it.
“really?” he feigns interest, lips finding their way back to yours. “doesn’t feel like it.”
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peachypinkygloss · 8 months
Text
call me later — jjk
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Summer break is always your favourite period of the year, enjoying the fresh water of the pool and the sun kissing your skin. Everything's going great until a sudden boy appears in your life and becomes the centre of your world.
☼ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
☼ genre: strangers to fwb to lovers, summer break au, university au, smut
☼ word count: 2.5k
☼ warnings: kinda inspired by outer banks, rich kid!oc, jk's a munch, oc pushes jk away 😔, they're a bit awkward together lol, outdoor sex, unprotected oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, brief overstimulation, cum eating.
a.n.: don't get fooled... this isn't cherry!jk ik this one's a munch too but they're very different. you'll see 😉
The sunlight gently graces the skin of your face, enveloping you in a warm embrace, relaxing both your limbs and mind. It's around one p.m., the perfect hour to sunbathe by the pool and to reread the PLL series.
That's what you had planned for today, but you ended up doing something vastly different. Something a bit unpredictable and perverted... To your defence, this would have never happened if he hadn't decided to show up.
Technically, he didn't decide, he's just following the schedule your dad gave him, but still. This isn't entirely your fault; it takes two people to do something like this.
Your chest heaves rapidly as you're looking down between your legs, a hand pulling on his black locks while the other is thrown over your forehead. The lounge chair doesn't allow you to have much space, but you're handling it pretty well you think.
He's handling it well too because you can't imagine how his knees must hurt right now. They're probably all red, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's such a good boy. He knows you'd do the same for him, so he doesn't complain.
Your book is long forgotten on the ground beside your chair and the bookmark has been quickly secured between the pages the moment things have begun to be more intense.
You softly moan, your sounds accompanying the chirps of the birds and the far away noises of the neighbours mowing their lawns. This is public, yet very private. The fences prevent anyone from looking — and there are small chances of people hearing you, considering how big your backyard is and how far your neighbours are — but that doesn't mean nobody can't walk in on you two.
This was really impulsive of you.
Though it's risky and kind of stupid, you regret nothing. How could you when he's so skilled with his tongue...
"Are you usually that vocal?" Jungkook wonders, a stupid grin drawn on his pretty face. He rubs slow circles on your clit to compensate for the loss of his mouth, waiting patiently for your answer.
You let out a pleasant sigh, watching the pads of his fingers playing with your pussy, tattoos inked on his skin and chunky rings adorning his fingers.
You sink your teeth in your bottom lip, collecting your thoughts as Jungkook traces your entrance, dipping his fingers in just a little bit. He really likes to tease.
"When I like the guy," you say breathily, lazy eyes blinking up to stare at him. This only brightens Jungkook's smile and you're confused as to why it makes your stomach flutter.
"You like me?" He smirks, satisfied you've just confessed to liking him.
But you didn't. Or did you? Damn it.
You roll your eyes and grip his hair again. "Get back to business," you groan. You don't miss the laugh he lets out while you push down on his head, shoving his face back between your thighs.
He slides his fingers in completely and you gasp softly, loving how they stretch you out really well. You roll your hips slightly, getting used to the feeling of being full.
Jungkook parts his fingers, scissoring your insides to see how much he can stretch your pussy. He hums as if he was listening to it, and you don't know what it told him, but that was surely good advice because the next thing he does sends you over the moon.
He pumps his fingers in you and wraps his lips around your clit, stimulating two areas at the same time. "Oh, my god, Jungkook," you moan in pleasure, twisting his hair in your fist.
You have a hard time focusing on anything else than him, feeling the cool silver of his piercings brushing against your skin and your wetness dripping down your ass every time he thrusts into you.
You pass your fingers through his hair, your eyes not once looking away from his pink lips sucking on your poor little clit. His digits enter and exit your wet cunt at a rapid pace, eliciting moans and whines out of you, taking your breath away.
You clench your thighs around his head, feeling so overwhelmed right now, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all, on the contrary. Your legs hang over his large shoulders, shaking a little bit as he darts his tongue out to lap at your swollen bud.
He's changed the rhythm of his fingers, going in less faster — but still fast enough to make you roll your eyes back — to go deeper instead. Your juices drip down to his knuckles and he can't believe how wet you are, especially during a hot temperature like this.
"Mmmh," you hear him mumble against your pussy, completely obsessed with it. "Your pussy's so wet, baby," he observes, circling your clit with his thumb to look at you for a second. "Taste so fucking sweet."
You know it's just dirty talk, but you have to admit it has your heart beating excitedly in your chest. He smiles at you as you're a little bit dizzy, drunk on your sexual pleasure.
"Thanks," you reply and he chuckles, finding adorable how you become a bit stupid from getting fucked by his fingers. He curls them into you and you moan out when he brushes against your magic spot, knitting your eyebrows together. "There!" You exclaim, feeling Jungkook's hot breath hitting your pussy as he tilts his head down to look at his hand.
"Right there, baby?" He repeats to make sure he has found the correct spot. You nod repeatedly when you feel the pads of his fingers patting the spongy spot inside you, the knot in your stomach tightening. "Yeah? Okay, I got you, princess," he coos and continues sensually moving his fingers in you.
He focuses on his digits, calculating every single one of his movements. Your pussy quivers around him and he understands you won't last long if he keeps going at this rhythm, but that's exactly his goal, so he continues.
Then he comes to lick at your puffy clit, left alone for too long now. You whimper when he does so, flattening his pink muscle over your bud and moving it from side to side, still pumping his big fingers in and out of your sloppy pussy.
"Fuck, Jungkook!" You whine, being so close to your orgasm. He has such a good technique that works for you, it's so hard to not fall apart as soon as he puts his mouth on you. "I'm gonna cum," you warn him, voice breathy and kind of desperate at this point.
He hums against you, sending vibrations through your body. You curl your toes as you feel it burning at the pit of your stomach, ready to rip off and send you over the edge.
"Don't stop, please," you beg him, but you don't have to worry, he has no intention of stopping, especially not when your moans sound so sweet to his ears.
You're not sure if you should cry, moan or scream. Your little brain is so confused, never been that close to an orgasm all because of a man's fingers and tongue.
Where was Jungkook all those times you couldn't make yourself cum or you were left frustrated by useless men who had absolutely no idea how a pussy worked? He really should have come sooner.
This is it, it grows rapidly in your stomach, a sensation so intense and euphoric, exploding and passing through your entire body like an avalanche. Your moans are stuck in your throat and your fingers pull harshly on Jungkook's hair, trying to not fall too far.
Your legs shake beside his head and he groans when you clench around him, sucking his fingers in, his tongue gently stroking your clit as you slowly drive off your high.
He slips out of your pussy, quickly licking his fingers clean before pulling your legs apart wider. He lowers his mouth to your quivering hole, literally making out with it and drinking your arousal out of you to satisfy his thirst.
He opens and closes his mouth on your pussy while your legs are still shaking, coming down from your previous orgasm. "Jungkook, this is too much," you say in a whiny voice, gasping softly when you feel his tongue teasing your entrance.
It's only when he hears the sound of a car parking at the front of the house that he pulls himself away from your leaking sex. You look at him, as confused as he is. He hurriedly wipes his chin with the back of his hand and he picks up your bikini bottom from the ground, handing it to you.
He stands up as you put back on your bikini. "I thought you said my dad wouldn't come back until five p.m.!" You whisper-shout at Jungkook, passing your fingers in your hair, trying to detangle it and make yourself presentable — and not like you've just received head from the hot guy your father hired to mow the lawn and maintain the pool this summer.
"Yeah, I thought so too," he answers, guilty he may have misheard what your dad said to him.
You sigh, taking your towel and your book in hand, ready to go back in the house, but before you can Jungkook grabs your arm. "Call me later, yeah?"
You look up at him, surprised he just asked you that. Does it mean he wants... more? See you in another context than at your house?
You swallow, wondering if that's what you want. You guess you never considered boys could be interested in knowing you or hanging out with you after having sex. You didn't think Jungkook would want that either.
Your attention is brought to your dad when he enters the backyard, waving at Jungkook and you. "Hey, kids!" He yells from across the yard and you can't help but roll your eyes. He walks up to you two and you wish you could escape, but you don't want to get reprimanded by your dad after.
"Hi, sir," Jungkook greets him, smiling politely. "I did the front of the house like you asked," he explains, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I've cut around the patio, too."
"That's awesome, you did a great job, Jungkook," your father nods his head, clearly a sign that he's really proud of him. "How long did it take you?"
"One hour and a half, I'd say," he answers, not really sure when he got the job done since, well, he's been a little distracted by something else.
"Good. I'll go take my wallet, I left it in the truck," he points behind him and then glances at you, giving you a tap on the back. "You enjoyed the pool, honey? You applied sunscreen, right?"
"Yes, dad," you groan. You want one thing and it's to get out of this awkward situation as soon as possible. Your father then disappears, going to take his wallet to pay Jungkook.
This one looks back at you, sweet eyes laying on you. "So?"
"I'll call you later," you confirm, not giving him time to answer and going back inside.
·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡
You look around the convenience store, searching for energy drinks. When you find them, you open the fridge's door, hesitating between a Rockstar or a Monster. There aren't many flavours, but you know you definitely won't take one without sugar. You decide to settle for a Monster, Pacific Punch flavour.
Now for the food. You eye the tteokbokki, but also the spicy ramen. You should combine both. And take some for your father, too. He always has night cravings like you.
As you check the different brands of ramen, wondering which one you feel like eating the most, someone says your name.
"You didn't call me."
You turn around and your eyes widen when you see Jungkook standing in front of you. Your heartbeat accelerates and you don't know what to say.
Your plan was to hide in the house the next time he'd come, avoiding him seemingly the best idea you've thought about, but of course, he had to find you here.
You feel bad as he looks at you with disappointed eyes as if he actually thought you'd call, that you were different and not like the others. Turns out that you're not. You're exactly like them, exactly like the people who you grew up with and who you live with.
"Um, well, I..." You stammer, caught red-handed. You glance down, biting down on your lip, too much of a coward to hold Jungkook's gaze. "No, I didn't," you sigh, admitting your mistake. "I... forgot."
He only lets out a 'mh' and you're really embarrassed. Yes, it was childish of you, but you don't understand what he expected. He works for your dad, you don't go to the same university, you don't have the same circle of friends, you have nothing in common.
Yet, when you look at him, it's like he knows everything about you — every single one of your secrets and fears.
"You don't have your eyebrow piercing anymore," you comment suddenly, desperately searching for a way to make things less awkward, to redeem yourself or whatever that would make him stop looking at you like you're a bad person.
He touches his eyebrow as if to confirm his piercing's really gone. "Yeah, it was a bitch to disinfect," he shrugs and hides his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.
"I really liked it," you say honestly.
The corner of his mouth tugs upward and you can't help but do the same, butterflies erupting in your stomach. "I've noticed." His eyes glint and your face heats up immediately when you understand what he's referring to.
Last time, you couldn't stop running your fingers over his face, touching his eyebrow piercing when he was kissing you. You don't know why you were doing that, but there was something that really fascinated you about it.
Fortunately, Jungkook didn't mind you touching him. He quite really enjoyed it, in fact.
When he doesn't say anything else, you quickly take two packs of ramen with the tteokbokki and your energy juice. You turn around and Jungkook's still there.
"Are you eating with someone?" He questions and he knows how it sounds, but he's only curious. If it's the reason why you didn't call, he wants you to tell him.
"Um, it's for my dad and me," you reply. "We're the kind to eat at like... one a.m.," you chuckle and he smiles at the sound of your laugh. "And you?" You ask back even though he's not holding anything other than his cellphone.
"Oh, just filling up the gas tank," he points outside where his car is parked. "But I might take a snack. Yours make me hungry."
"You should," you nod your head.
He sends you a faint smile before passing by you, walking to the other aisle. You watch him for a second, analyzing his outfit. Black baggy jeans, a graphic white hoodie and beige beanie.
You go pay for your items and it's only when you push the door that you get a glimpse of Jungkook walking up to the cashier. He doesn't see you so you exit the store, refraining yourself from looking back.
·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡
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a.n.: hellooo you guys... 🤭
i had jungkook working for oc's dad in mind for likeee a long time and since it's summer, i finally found the time to write it... i have more planned for this fic (obvi because I wouldn't make it end like this 🫣), so this isn't just a drabble, it's more like a test to see if you're interested in this story. so tell me if you want it to become a lil series. ngl, i'm very insecure about this one idk why 😭 but let me know if you'd like to read a next part!
part 1: call me later ☼ part 2: call me soon ☾ part 3: call me tomorrow ☼
2K notes · View notes
i-cant-sing · 5 months
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Okay but I need yall to help me figure out the character(s) for the following scenario:
Imagine a romantic yandere falling for reader, and ofc reader isn't in love with yandere for obvious reasons like red flags. Maybe they did try dating, Yandere is a charmer, comes from a rich family, he's smart and hardworking and oh so head over heels in love with you. He's always taking you out on best dates, HAS to get you the largest fucking bouquets (excellent taste in flowers) and buys you expensive but well thought out gifts.
But for whatever reason, things dont work out and you break things off hastily and most likely over the phone before leaving the country. And yandere just- breaksdown. I mean my man does not have a good mental health as is, but you leaving, actually leaving him just breaks him down and he has a full blown panic attack.
I'm talking about yandere falling to his knees, clutching his chest and gasping for air, tears streaming down his face as he screams your name like a mad man. His family, they love him, they adore their son/brother/grandchild sm, it pains them to see him in such a miserable state. Yandere man is so delirious that he has to be sedated, tranquillised by medical professionals because he's just losing his fucking mind, babbling your name over and over again like a mad man. His condition only worsens as time passes, and so his family decides to take drastic measures because they can't see their beloved son/brother/grandkid so fucking dead and depressed and a shell of a once bright man. They love him so much, they only want ti see him happy, so they use their money and influence to track you down and try to convince you to return and take yandere back. When you refuse, they take the high way and force you to come with them, dragging you kicking and screaming to their private jet and fly all the way home, where yandere is.
You're in a dishevelled state, tears running down your cheeks as you struggle to free yourself from their grasps as they take you to yandere. And when yandere sees you... for the first time in months, his family sees the light return in his eyes as the yandere reaches out for you, scared that you're just his mind playing tricks. When he finally touches you, he is immeadiately pulling you into a hug, arms tightening around your body like a gilded cage as he cries into your shoulder and thanks his family for bringing you back. His family only smiles with tears in their eyes as they lock the door behind them when they leave, so that you don't go running away. Meanwhile, yandere has pulled you into his lap and he's looking at you with such sad eyes, staring at each feature of yours over and over again as if to memorise it all again. He can't help the tears that continue to slip out of his eyes, maybe he's crying that you're finally here, or maybe he's crying for all the time that's been lost when you weren't here. You fall asleep soon due to exhaustion, but yandere doesn't sleep a wink that night because he continues to stare at you and play with your hair very gently, finally closing his eyes when morning comes and he wraps his arms around you and traps your legs with his.
By now, you guys realise that the yandere's family is not only yandere for their son/brother/grandson but also for you. They are yandede for you too, but they're not allowing you to leave them or their son or even make him unhappy ever again. Some members are willing to let all you "tantrums" slide, while others are not so kind. BUT one thing is for sure, you're ALWAYS safe with yandere s/o, no matter what.
Now, for the characters I've had in kind for this scenario are:
Halim Mehmet Shah and the Shah Family (my ocs)
Dabi/Shotou and Todoroki clan (I am the OG creator of Yandere Todoroki Clan)
I wanna say Naoya or Toji but the Zenin clan hates them both....
Dick Grayson/Jason Todd and Batfam
What do you guys think?
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Mood board for this scenario^^^(I love Pinterest)
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3K notes · View notes
fioiswriting · 5 months
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Reunion | oneshot
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Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...
[Part 2]
Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI
Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course &lt;3
TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.
Words count : 7600
Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever
Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!
Enjoy 🖤
I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron
The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.
For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.
It had been the best solution, you knew. 
For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.
So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.
The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.
You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.
Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.
Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.
During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 
Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.
And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.
But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.
First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 
And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.
You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.
You loved him.
So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.
Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?
Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.
But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.
Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.
It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.
But above all, it was haunted by him.
The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.
You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.
But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.
Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.
On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.
When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.
"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 
You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.
"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.
It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 
Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.
The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.
Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.
At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.
But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.
You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.
One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.
The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.
And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.
You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.
"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 
That voice. It couldn't be.
Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.
It can’t be.
That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.
"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."
The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.
It is impossible.
He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.
Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?
"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.
You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.
His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 
The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.
You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.
He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.
The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.
"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.
He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.
"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 
He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.
He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.
A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.
You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 
But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.
"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 
There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 
"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"
"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 
"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.
"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."
The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 
"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.
"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."
Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.
"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 
You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.
"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.
"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."
Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.
You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.
"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."
You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 
There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.
His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.
"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."
You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.
"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."
His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.
It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.
You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 
The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.
"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.
His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.
Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.
"On your knees then."
The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.
Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 
Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.
His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 
His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.
"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."
You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 
"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.
His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 
He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 
" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.
The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.
"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 
The memory was so close and yet so far away.
Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.
"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.
"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.
"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 
His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 
He doesn't let go of you. 
"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.
His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 
Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 
You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.
In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.
There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.
His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.
He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 
He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.
The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.
"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 
Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.
"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 
You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.
"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."
"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."
Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.
You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.
You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.
He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.
He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 
The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.
" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 
He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.
You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.
You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.
"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.
"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 
You need him. 
When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.
Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.
"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."
The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.
You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.
"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.
Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.
"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."
The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.
I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 
He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.
The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.
When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 
You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.
Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.
And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.
You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.
"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."
When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 
He lets out a hm and pauses.
"Is he yours?"
You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?
"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.
"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"
Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.
You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.
"No, he's not." 
The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.
"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.
You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.
You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 
" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."
You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.
"What did you say?"
You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 
"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.
It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.
Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.
Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.
"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.
"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.
He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.
And this time, he makes love to you.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 
"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.
"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.
It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.
Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.
"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"
The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.
"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 
He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.
"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 
You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.
You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 
Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.
You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.
"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.
You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 
But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.
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