#im accepting no matter what. i have been waiting for so long

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Home - Mattheo Riddle x bff!fem!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: y/n wants to makes something special for Mattheo's birthday, but little does she know how special it is about to get.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Fluff; English is not my first language.

A/N: Thank you guys so, so much for over 300 followers, love y'all!! That said, I don't think I like this one lol. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @lilloves-34

“Aw, how lovely it is to see you two!”

“Hi, mum.”

Your mother held you warmly before turning to the person next to you.

“You’ve grown taller, Mattheo, dear.”

“As always, Mrs. y/l/n.”

She held him too, and Mattheo did his best to return the hug. His dark eyes turned to you and you offered him a small, affectionate smile. He suddenly looked more comfortable and smiled at your mother when she let him go. 

“Leave your luggage here, dears, it can be unpacked later. Come, I’ve made you two some snacks.”

You and Mattheo follow her into the kitchen, and you can’t help but look at Mattheo. Partly because, well, it’s not like he wasn’t the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen, but mostly because you know he’s not always comfortable in your mother’s house, despite having living here for over two years now. 

Mattheo and you had been best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. But as the years went by, knowing Mattheo was alone at Hogwarts during the holidays made you feel so upset that you started asking him if he wanted to spend it with you, which he accepted with a gratitude he had a hard time hiding. And, naturally, you also asked him if he wanted to come for summer break here as well. From the day Mattheo met your mother, she adored him and soon considered him a full member of the family, sending him sweets and gifts while at school just like she did for you, offering him gifts for his birthdays and Christmas as well, and he started coming every holiday without you asking him. You knew Mattheo was thankful for your mother’s hospitality and affection, as he always made sure to let her know, but you knew - despite him doing his best to hide it - that he felt that he somehow didn’t deserve the kindness and care you mother had shown him. It broke your heart to know he felt like that, but Mattheo wasn’t the kind to easily speak about his feelings so you never dared to bring it up, only sometimes telling him how happy you were that he was here, and that this house was his home.

But what your mother - or anyone else for that matter - didn’t know was that now having Mattheo around at all times was bittersweet for you. You absolutely loved having him in your house, where you knew he was finally loved and cared for, but it also made you two closer and made feelings for him grow - feelings you didn’t know were shared or not. It was slowly breaking you from the inside, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Of course, you could talk about it with Pansy, who was your other best friend, or your mother, but you perfectly knew what they would both tell you: “tell him how you feel.” Merlin, no. You just couldn’t. Not only because if Mattheo didn’t feel the same way, your friendship would never be the same at best - or completely destroyed in the worst case scenario - and in both cases, you knew it wouldn’t take long for Mattheo to decide to leave your house. If I ever do tell him how I feel, it’s better to wait until we’re both out of Hogwarts and have our own places. 

You walked in the kitchen to find your favourite snacks on the table. 

“Aw, thanks, mum.”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re more than welcome. Come, sit.”

The three of you sat around the table, you being next to Mattheo on one side and your mother on the other. You and Mattheo started eating while your mother asked about yours and Mattheo’s lives at school. You and Mattheo took turns in making conversation and even had a few laughs as you recalled some of the funny memories you had. After both your stomachs were full, you decided to go unpack your luggage. Mattheo had the same idea, and went to the bedroom that was now essentially his. You both finished at the same time, and found yourselves in the corridor of the second floor. 

“I’ll go take a shower,” Mattheo said quietly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He walked to the bathroom, but before he came in, you called for him. “Matty?” 

He turned to you and you continued, “As always, this is your home.” 

He gave you a single nod before quickly turning away and going into the bathroom. Letting out a small sigh, you went down downstairs in the living room and found your mother reading a book. 

“Mum?”

She raised her head from her book, “Yes?”

You sat on the sofa next to her, a small smile on your face.

“You know Mattheo’s birthday is coming up?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I already got his gifts and have everything I need to make his favourite cake. Why?”

“Well,” you said, “I thought that we could do something else for a change. We usually have quiet birthdays and it’s nice but I’d really like to do something for Mattheo this time.”

Your mother frowned, “Like what?”

“A surprise party?” you answered. “I could write to the boys and invite them to celebrate?” 

“That’s a good idea, darling. I’ll soon go to Diagon Alley to buy some decorations and, well, more food and drinks.”

You smiled and went to give her a quick hug. “Thank you, mum. You’re the best.”

The evening was nice and quiet, spent playing chess with Mattheo on the ground in the living room like you always did, with your mother playfully cheering on the one winning from the sofa. Mattheo and you laughed a lot while playing, and it warmed your heart to see him relaxed and happy. You knew he was usually shy in the first days he came here, and while you perfectly understood it, you couldn’t wait for him to be his warm, chill, funny self again. The Mattheo you knew and loved. After dinner, your mother went to bed and soon after, Mattheo and you decided to follow. You both went upstairs, and you then went into the bathroom to take a shower and put on your pyjamas. Mattheo had his own bathroom, and he was likely getting himself ready to go to bed. Once you were done, you went to your bedroom, and you weren’t surprised to see Mattheo casually laying on your bed. You went to close the shutters, and when you got in bed, Mattheo’s arms immediately wrapped around your body, and you put your head on his chest. Mattheo and you had taken the habit of cuddling to sleep since the first night he spent here, where a discussion before going to sleep ended up with you guys falling asleep and for some reason waking up in each other’s arms. You found that you slept way better in Mattheo’s arms, so much so that this situation continued in Hogwarts - and it was made easier by your roommate Pansy essentially spending all her nights with Blaise. At first, you just enjoyed the feeling of warmth and safety Mattheo’s embrace gave you, but as your heart started to feel more than friendship for him, cuddling, just like his perpetual presence, became bitter-sweet. You still loved cuddling with Mattheo, in fact you didn’t even know if you could even sleep without him now, but you wondered if it was a good idea to continue like this. But even if I decided it was better to stop, how do I tell him? 

“You alright?” you whispered, raising your head to look at him.

He nodded, “Yeah. Why?” 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here. This is your home, Matty. And it will always be. But if you’re feeling something different, I want you to tell me.” 

“I’m fine, y/n, really. I’m grateful for your mum and you, you know that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.”

He kissed your hair, his hands started gently caressing your shoulder and the middle of your back. Soon after, you felt yourself going to sleep, and thought you heard a voice saying “sleep well, princess.” 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next following days, Mattheo and you spent all of your time together. Every meal, every activity - playing Quidditch in the garden, reading, studying, taking a nap - was done with him. You loved it, but it made it harder to write to Mattheo’s friends to invite them to the surprise party or to prepare the said party without him knowing, but you still managed to do it while he was reading a book in the living room. Thankfully, all the boys answered your letter and said they would come, and thankfully also, your mother had time to buy what was needed and had the idea to hide it in her room, where you and her knew Mattheo would never dare to go. 

On the day of his birthday, you woke up once again in his arms, and kissed him on the cheek as he was slowly waking up.

“Happy birthday, Matty.”

“Thank you, pretty girl.”

You had managed to get Mattheo agree to go to Hogsmeade in the beginning of the afternoon to get his favourite sweets from Honeydukes so your mom could prepare everything for the party and welcome the guests. You spent some time here, and once you knew everything was likely to be ready, you and Mattheo got back home, and you had a hard time not smiling. But you also suddenly worried about how Mattheo would react. Last year, Theo had a surprise party and Mattheo was happy to help prepare it. But does that mean he wants one for himself?

You opened the door, and entered the silent house. Mattheo looked around the corridor, and put his bag full of sweets on the floor in order to take off his jacket.

“Is your mom here?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Let’s check the living room.”

Mattheo remained silent and approached said living room, and you had the biggest smile on your face when he suddenly stopped.

“Happy birthday!”

There was some cheering and applause, and Mattheo turned to you as you approached him.

“What-”

“It’s a surprise, Matty,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his confused face. “You deserved to have your friends and your brother with you today.”

He stared at you for a long minute, and you felt your heart beat faster, and he finally smiled at you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You smiled back at him and gestured for him to go say hi to his friends, who were quick to wish him a happy birthday and greet him warmly, and his brother Tom, who was colder and more silent than the others. You looked around the room, and what your mother had done to decorate was incredible: there were numerous small fireworks up in the air alongside big golden letters saying “happy birthday Mattheo”, small decorations all around, and the long wooden table, usually bare, was also very much magically decorated. Mattheo hugged your mother to thank her while Pansy came closer to you. 

“Well done, dear. If you’ve put it together for a friend, I can’t wait to see what you will do when you’ll be dating him.”

“Don’t start,” you warmed her. “Mattheo and I have always been friends and will always be.” 

“We’ll see,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes and went closer to Mattheo. It was now time for him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and everyone was gathered around him as your mother brought his favourite cake decorated with whipped cream and full of magic candles.

“Happy birthday again, dear,” your mother smiled. “Make a wish.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for an instant and then blew out the candles. You applauded alongside the others, and everyone gave Mattheo their birthday gifts - books on Quidditch or history or wizards, Quidditch equipment, special quills, a watch - and then came your turn. Feeling your cheeks becoming red, you handed him your own gift, scared he might not like it. He unwrapped it and then saw the book.

“It’s, um, a photo album with some pictures we took along the years and, well, I wrote down some of my favourite memories with you.” 

You heard some whispers among Mattheo’s friends - his brother Tom remained silent - but your only focus was on Mattheo’s reaction. He turned some of the pages, smiled at some of the pictures and read the memories you wrote down - and the note you had also written him about how much he meant to you and how special you genuinely thought he was. After a moment of apparently being lost in thoughts, he gently put down the book on the table near the others books he got and looked at you to give you a half-smile.

“Thank you, y/n.”

He gave you a quick, strange hug, and then turned to his plate. Feeling confused, you wondered if he truly liked the gift. You went to sit between your mother and Lorenzo, and as you ate the cake, you looked sometimes as Mattheo, who was now the center of attention, and as time went by, you saw him switching from his usual, funny self to a more quiet, uneasy self, barely listening to what Theo was saying to him. You guessed he was feeling overwhelmed, and as the others finished their plates and went to sit on the sofas, you saw Mattheo mumbling an excuse before leaving the room to go to the garden. You wanted to follow him to make sure everything was fine, but you knew he probably needed some time alone. After a while, you finally went outside, and found him sitting in the grass, lost in thoughts. You approached him slowly before sitting down next to him.

“Are you okay, Matty?” 

He nodded, “Yes. Was it your idea to have this party?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Why?” 

“Thank you, y/n. It means a lot,” he looked at the grass before shaking his head. 

“You deserve it,” you said with a gentle voice. 

“Actually, I’m not sure,” Mattheo said in a low voice, his head now down.

You frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

Mattheo turned to you and had a small sigh.

“Honestly, y/n. You and your mum have already so much for me. Letting me live here, giving me gifts, being there for me, and now this…What did I ever give you back? Nothing.”

You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds to answer. “Mattheo, have you not read what I wrote in the photo album?” 

He didn’t answer, still looking at the grass.

“Well?” you insisted. “What did the text say?”

“That you deeply cared about me,” he said, almost mumbling. “And that you thought of me as caring, and kind.”

“I meant it, alright?” you said in a more serious voice, wanting him to understand. “You’re the most exceptional person I know. You’re kind, gentle, funny, and caring. You’re a great friend to the boys, and you’re doing your best to have a good relationship with Tom, even when it’s not easy. You’re always there for me, you're always ready to spend time with me no matter the activity, and I know I always count on you whenever I need help or need comfort. You always know what to say, and you always listen to me when I have something to say. You’re also smart, and a damn good Quidditch player. I know you’re scared of becoming like your father, but I know you won’t. Because you two couldn’t be more different. And even if you started to be like him, we both know I’d smack some sense into you.” He had a hint of a smile and you went on, “Yes, sometimes you’re annoying and I think you love to fight too much, but nobody’s perfect, and I wouldn't want you to change for anything in the world. You’re the best person I know, Mattheo, and that’s why I’m in love with you.”

He whipped his head towards you, and that’s when you realised what you just said. 

Oh, no. Oh, no. Merlin, no.

“I…Just…Forget what I said.”

You quickly rose up and almost ran back to the house, but you suddenly felt a warm hand on your wrist. 

“Wait!” Mattheo said, “What the hell, you can’t leave like that after saying that to me.”

“Yes I can,” you retorted, panicking, “and that’s what I’m doing, just…forget it happened, alright?”

Mattheo let go of your wrist to run a hand through his dark curls. 

“But, y/n, I can’t forget,” he said, frowning, as if it was obvious, “and I don’t want to. Did you really mean it?”

“Mattheo, I…”

“y/n, please,” he cut off more severely, both his voice and eyes now pleading. “Please, answer me.”

Doing your best to not look at him, you hesitated before nodding, feeling the need to disappear. He looked at you in a strange way, and you wondered what he was going to say.

“Look, Mattheo,” you started, “I know our f…”

“I love you too.”

It was now you turn to look at him with confusion. “What?”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “You’re…all I want, and all I need. You said this house is my home, but the truth is, you’re my home.” 

All of a sudden, he stepped closer to you and brought his hand to your face, slowly caressing your cheek with all the gentleness in the world. You wondered what you should do next -  put your hand on his? Put your own hand on his cheek? - but he made the decision for you, suddenly lowering his head towards yours.

“Fuck, y/n…”

And after that whisper, he pressed his lips on yours. It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, but when you did, he immediately grabbed your waist to pull you closer before putting a hand on the back of your neck. You let out a moan, and he deepened the kiss. You had a hard time believing what you had been dreaming for years now was actually happening but at the same time, Mattheo’s lips on yours and his hands on your body was all you could feel, all you could think about and all that mattered. When he finally pulled away, you were both out of breath. 

“Does you saying that you love me and this kiss count as two more birthday gifts?” he suddenly asked. 

“If you want,” you laughed. 

“Then, it really is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You both smiled at each other before he kissed you again before taking you into his arms, holding you as if he died if he let go. You held him as well, feeling that, wherever you were, Mattheo was also your home. 

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Masterlist

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

I Love You

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 20 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist |

Y/N went for a walk at the Han River today it was so peaceful Hannie its like 9 in the morning? when did you even have time? Y/N I woke up early ^^ the sunrise was beautiful Hannie i cant believe you willingly woke up early 0.o Y/N I want to take you there someday. Just you and me, we can go for a walk by the han river. Hannie Just us? Y/N Hmmm. My two favorite Hans, all to myself Hannie Wait, two favorites? You should only have ONE favorite Han >:( Y/N You're absolutely right baby Hannie im your favorite Han, right? Y/N …. I love you? Hannie >:( (i love you too)

-0-0-

“Jagi, are you okay? You can take off your hat if you want.”

You paused from where you had pulled up your beanie to swipe hair from your forehead, the cold soft air of the cafe AC making the sweat on your body cool rapidly. Subsequently, it was causing your hair to stick.

The two of you had just sat down at a small cafe hidden away from the crowds. It was a cafe known for being discreet, the owners having long gotten used to both trainees and idols coming there. Jeongin had grabbed the booth all the way in the back.

And yet you still found yourself nervously pulling the hoodie lower. You were facing the glass windows and the large double doors, where anyone could walk by and see you. It made you feel exposed. It wasn't the first time you had been out with one of the boys, but ever since seeing a photo of you on social media, you found yourself wanting to lay low. It was hard to do that when Jeongin, bless his confident soul, was wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and a pair of fake glasses that suited him wonderfully, but did nothing to hide his beautiful face. No hat, no hoodie, and he had even taken off his mask.

You were a ball of nerves.

“I’m okay,” You told him.

He gave you an unconvinced look, which was fair considering you were doing a terrible job at hiding your feelings.

The waitress came over then, setting down the two cups you had ordered, as well as the cake Jeongin had ordered. You ducked your head until she had left.

Jeongin let out a soft hum. “Jagi. Open.”

He held out a fork with a bit of cake on it towards you. You accepted the bite with a pout, knowing he was trying to get you to open up, but the cake was so good you couldn't stop the way your eyes widened in surprise.

The more flavors that began to explode in your mouth, the more you were convinced this had to be the best cake you had ever tried.

Jeongin gave you a knowing look. “Good, huh?”

“Holy-” You covered your mouth since it was still filled with food, tempted to nearly moan at how good it was.

Guess those cheesy romance books weren't all fantasy.

He smiled, grabbing another bite and holding it out to you. You pushed it away with your free hand, the other one still covering your mouth as you swallowed.

“No, it's your cake!” you protested, even though deep down you really wanted to accept that bite.

“It doesn't matter,” he reminded you. “Even if you eat it, I'll still taste it.”

You couldn't help but laugh at that, and Jeongin laughed along with you. The noise came out loud, echoing across the room, and from the corner of your eyes you spotted two girls sitting at a table near the entrance looking up in your direction. Immediately, you felt the same worry and shame from before rising up. You couldn't help the flash of panic when Jeongin turned around, having spotted your face and wanting to see what was wrong.

You reached out to him. “Innie! You're not wearing your mask!” You hissed at him in warning.

He turned back to you with a bewildered look. “What?”

You glanced behind him. The two girls were looking down at their phones, seemingly uninterested in whatever was going on around them. They were either really good actresses, or they didn't seem to recognize the maknae. You slumped back in your seat with a frown.

“You can't just-” You gestured wildly. “-look without your mask. What if someone recognizes you?”

“Is that what has you so worried?” He said, looking far too amused.

“It’s a valid worry.”

“But why do you keep hiding your face?”

“In case someone does recognize you,” You told him, feeling like a solid ‘duh' would fit well at the end. You decided against it though. “I don't want to cause any more problems for you guys.”

Jeongin titled his head. “More? Jagi, you've been the opposite of a problem.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” You try to explain. “Its just…”

You trailed off, realizing you were going to have to come clean about the photo you had seen. You had yet to mention it to any of the boys, and now that it had been nearly two weeks later, it felt like admitting to a secret. Jeongin leaned forward, his face squinted in that cute way of his that had him looking like a fox, but still cute nonetheless.

“What happened?”

And so you explained your nondate with Seungmin, how the two of you had stopped in the middle of the street, how you found the photo later on with little to no interactions, and the worry that there were people watching at all times. The worry that you would get caught.

The youngest member simply nodded, listening to you with no interruptions, until you were done. Then, he lifted up the fork with another bite of cake.

“Eat.”

“Innie-”

“Eat,” he stressed out, giving you a look.

You reluctantly took the bite offered with a pout, unable to deny how good the treat was. Given the look on his face, you were sure it was just as much for his satisfaction as it was for yours.

“I understand your worries, Jagi. I understand how stressful it is to think about being in the media eye, how paranoid it can make you feel.” You nodded at his words, well aware that if anyone could understand, it would definitely be him. Or any of the members. “But it’s also because I’ve been there that I know just how unnecessary that worry is.”

You frowned. “How can you say that? What happens if someone snaps a photo of us together?”

“Then it happens.” Just like that. Like it was a fact of life. You shook your head, even as Jeongin continued. “I’ve already accepted that something is going to come out eventually. Im actually expecting it.” He offered you another bite. “So is Chan-hyung, and Minho-hyung, and the other members, and the manager, and probably the CEO.”

“That doesn't exactly make me feel better,” You pointed out. He gave you a look and wiggled his hand, so you let out a sigh, taking the bite of cake.

“You can sit here and worry about when that moment is going to happen, or you can just enjoy your life and accept that it will happen eventually. I’m not saying you should go around telling everyone your dating Stray Kids, or to stop being aware of your surroundings, but maybe don’t let it eat you up inside, okay?”

You blinked at him, eyes a little watery. “When did you get so wise, Iyen-ah?”

He smiled, eyes squinting and nose scrunching. You leaned forward and, faces now inches apart, placed your hand over his.

“I love you.”

He blinked slowly, still smiling, but softer now. And then he leaned back, flipping his hand to grab your wrist.

“I love you too. Now come here.”

He tugged you towards him, but he had to actually let you go for you to make your way to the other side of the booth. You sat down next to him.

“It’s not like you to want so much skinship,” You pointed out, nudging your shoulder against his.

He shrugged. “If your so worried about being spotted, I figured it would be easier if nobody could see you.”

Your mouth slipped open in surprise, and you couldn’t help but lean against him. “Innie, that’s … thank you.”

“You're welcome. Now finish the cake.”

-0-0-

Comeback promotions started up so quickly you didn’t get much warning. It was half group dinners, then just two or three, and eventually you were getting messages telling you that they would be getting back late and that you shouldn't wait up. The boys all made efforts to check in with you throughout the day, or to exclusively talk in the group chat so you wouldn't feel left out, but suddenly having so much free time to yourself made you feel like something was missing.

Even schoolwork couldn't hide the loneliness. You still got breakfast with the boys, even if it was rushed, and the occasional half day surprise when someone's schedule was clear, but the one person who seemingly disappeared for an entire week was Chan.

A good morning text was all you got for those 7 days. The others reassured you he was fine and just busy, but Felix was quick to warn you that the leader was taking naps before performances, cluing in to his lack of sleep.

On the 8th day, or maybe it was the 9th due to how late it was, you were woken up to the clicking sound of your door unlocking. You lifted your head, only taking in the blurry figure at the door as they shuffled in, trying to be quiet, before dropping your head back down with a huff. Soft footsteps drew closer, your eyes too heavy to open, and then a hand was brushing down your cheek.

You let out a noise of confusion when the covers lifted.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Chan whispered, placing a kiss on your wrist as he settled in next to you.

You found yourself hovering somewhere near sleep and wake, mind still kind of aware but somewhat dreaming. You thought about the man next to you fondly, the effort he made to be with you even during his busy schedule.

“I love you,” you whispered, falling into a deep sleep.

Chan was gone by the time you woke up.

As you got ready, you found yourself wondering if you had actually said the words out loud, or if it had just been in your head. But then you got a message.

Chan Good morning love <3 Hope you have an amazing day PS. I love you too

-0-0-

Their busy schedules seem to clear up almost as quickly as they came. Although the boys still had plenty of activities scheduled both as a group and as individuals, group dinners were once again on the table. It only takes another week before you have all 8 of your boys together at the same time, their laughs and voices getting loud enough you were worried they would get a noise complaint. Even then, you didn't have the heart to quiet them.

It was during this time together, once they had settled in on the couches and began winding down, that you sprung your surprise on them.

“Sooo,” You drawled. “I have an announcement to make.” Jisung and Hyunjin both gave you panicked looks, and you raised your hands to wave away their worries. “I'm not breaking up with you, don't worry.”

“You couldn't get rid of us that easily,” Minho replied nonchalantly.

“I just wanted to let you guys know that I got a job offer.”

There was a chorus of congratulations and smiles from the boys, but only Chan seemed to realize there was still more to be said. Probably because he could still feel your anxiety.

“It's in New York.” The boys were uncharacteristically silent, so you continued. “It's only an offer, I still have to apply and there's no guarantee that I'll even get it. Honestly, I'm debating whether or not I even want to apply.”

“Okay,” Felix started, leaning forward on his knees. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“It just had me thinking, you know, about us. This,” You said, gesturing at the group. “And how its going to work. You know, long-term.”

“Long-term?” Changbin asked, repeating the english words with his thick accent. Chan translated, and the boys all nodded in understanding.

“Don’t you-” Jisung cut himself off, forehead pinching as he frowned. “I thought you being here was the long-term plan.”

“For now, yes. I still have a year or two until I get my degree, and I can continue to do that long distance for now. But then what? Eventually I will have to get a job, find my own place. Will we do that together? You guys obviously have Stray Kids, and it doesn't look like you plan on changing that anytime soon, so obviously you all are going to be together for a while…” You found yourself trailing off at the dejected look on Chan's face.

“Do you … not feel like you're a part of that goal?” He asked you. He gave a quick look to the other boys and switched to english. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to make decisions for our sake. You may be our soulmate, but you have every right to want to travel or move to other places, to get a job, to be … independent from us, if that’s what you want.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he lifted a hand, and you pressed your lips together. He continued in Korean. “I just want you to know that I-“ Felix cleared his throat. “-WE have never, ever, thought of excluding you from our future plans. If we end up making any decisions as a group, you are 100 percent included in that decision.”

“You’re a Stray now, whether you like it or not,” Seungmin told you, reaching out to pull your hand away from where it had been pulling on a loose thread in your sleeve.

You let out a laugh, eyes watering even as you tried to blink the tears away. “You offering me a place in the group?”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re part of the group or not. You’re a part of us,” Changbin muttered.

At the same time, Jisung perked up. “Do you know how to rap?!”

“We’re not adding her to the group,” Chan said with a smile. “I already have to deal with you guys.”

“Fine, we’ll make our own group,” Jisung continued nonchalantly, giving you a wink.

“The gremlin club?” Seungmin offered.

You couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter at that, slapping the singer next to you as you suddenly remembered something. “Wait! You never did give me back my hoodie!”

Jisung was quickly getting to his feet. “Actually, I think I have somewhere to be-“

“No, no, no! Get back here, you little shit!”

“Hyung, help!”

“Give me back my hoodie!”

-0-0-

Even with the boys’ great efforts to lift your mood, you still found yourself thinking about your future more and more. You also found yourself missing them, even when you had the opportunity to see them every day, to the point you were worried you would come off as clingy. Even though they didn’t have such busy schedules anymore, there was one particular Wednesday afternoon when the boys seemed to be hit with a wave of inspiration, rushing off to the studio to get their ideas down before it left.

You happily spent the morning with Hyunjin until he had to meet up with a friend. A quick lunch with the others was just as chaotic as you expected, and Minho only gave you a knowing look when you asked him if he would mind making 3 extra servings. In return, you didn’t mention the fact that Jisung’s bag had a little note added in.

Despite having only been to the company building a handful of times, the security downstairs didn’t even look twice at your ID before waving you in, and since you knew exactly where you were going, it was only a few minutes before you were knocking on the familiar studio door.

Three faces lit up as you poked your head into the room.

“Hey.” You walked in, seeing they weren’t in the middle of recording.

Changbin was quick to stand up and help you with the bags you were holding, peeking in and smiling as he realized you had brought food.

“Yah! Thank you so much, babe.”

“You brought food?”

Chan and Jisung both thanked you as you handed them their respective containers, and you sat down on the couch with a smile as you watched them talk about how good it looked. Changbin, instead of returning to his own seat, settled in next to you.

“It really does look good,” Changbin muttered, opening up the top of the container. “Wah!”

“Minho put in a lot of effort to make it look good.”

“He left me a note,” Jisung pointed out, smiling down at his little present.

Chan looked through his own bag. “I didn’t get a note.”

He pouted, and Jisung seemed to get even happier at the news. The boys began to eat their food, starting an easy conversation about a new show that you had started watching. When you brought up their music, Chan offered to let you hear what they had so far, and you quickly agreed. He began to get the track set up as you cleaned up the containers.

“Okay, this is an idea we’ve been working on,” He told you, and the room grew quiet as he played the track.

You bopped your head to the rhythm. The song was simple, but rhythmic. The track itself was just the instrumental, but from next to you, Changbin seemed to be muttering to himself potential lyrics. He had his phone out and everything.

“This is the best part,” Jisung said, slapping Chan’s shoulder from where the two sat next to each other.

And the song began to rise into what you could recognize as a beat drop. You smiled as the two producers suddenly headbanged together as the song went crazy, a sick beat echoing around the room as their heads continued to bop in unison. It was a really good song from what you could hear, the kind that made you want to get up and start dancing.

“Aaand that’s all we go so far,” Chan said as he paused the track, spinning around to face you. “We were just about to start working on some lyrics. You want to stick around and help?

“Can I?” You wondered.

“Of course!”

Jisung let out a clap. “Great! I have some ideas we can work on, and I think Changbin’s working on some of his own, so we can pull them together and work something out.”

Said man was still looking down at his phone. You nudged him gently. “Bin?”

Chan laughed. “Give him a moment. He tends to get too into whatever’s he’s doing.”

“Hopefully it’s better than what he came up with earlier,” Jisung said, smiling at you. “He wrote this cute little verse about how much he loves bulgogi. It was funny.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought. Changbin was silent for a few more seconds, but he eventually lifted his head up nonchalantly only to freeze at the sight of everyone staring at him. “What?”

Chan and Jisung laughed, and the rapper seemed to realize he had missed something. He gave an embarrassed smile, turning to you for an explanation since the other two were still laughing.

“So, I hear you wrote some really deep lyrics about bulgogi.”

Changbin let out a groan, and you couldn’t help but laugh. He tried to say something, but the three of you were still laughing, and he shook his head. You didn’t even fight him when he wrapped his arms around you, trying to tickle you from the side. You jerked as he hit the ticklish parts of your side, laughing jumping up an octave into a scream. Changbin started to laugh along with you.

“Okay, okay!” You wiggled in his hold. “I’m sorry!”

“I get no respect from you guys,” he complained, no longer tickling you, put still keeping his arms wrapped around you.

“Oh, I’m sorry sweetie. Do you want some bulgogi?”

“Yah!”

Chan and Jisung were still laughing, having been spurred on by your comments, and Changbin pulled you into his lap to rest his chin on your shoulder. You cooed at him as he pretended to pout. When he went to lean back against the couch, he pulled you down on top of him, your body relaxing against his as you both sighed in comfort, choosing to ignore the other two boys as they finally began to calm down.

There was a moment of peace, where it was just you and your soulmates, your body humming contently. And then it all came screeching to a halt as the door opened.

You didn’t recognize the woman who walked in, only taking in the surprise that flashed across her face as she took you in for less than a second before you were slipping off your boyfriend’s lap, face suddenly feeling hot. The sudden pounding in your chest only seemed to get worse as the surprise slipped into a cold icy disgust, the older woman crossing her arms.

“Seo Changbin. You should know better,” She chastised him like she was his mother. “Being so provocative where anyone could walk in. You should save that kind of behavior for when you are alone.”

You frowned, sharing a look with Jisung. Weren’t you technically alone before she … walked in? Without knocking? To a private studio in a private building?

He returned your confusion with his own furrowed brows.

“It’s not like that, Noona,” Chan defended. “Besides, nobody really comes in here that often anyways.“

She gave him a sharp look. “Anyone in this building can walk into this room. You should have at least locked the door.”

“We weren’t doing anything-“ You tried to argue.

“While I am happy that you boys have found your soulmate, this isn’t information that many are privy too. You’ll do well to be careful even when in the company building,” She interrupted, handing Chan a few papers. “The stylists want to check your measurements tomorrow, and you need to film a promotional video on TikTok by the end of the week.”

And with one last side eye in your direction, the woman left. You didn’t even get to say goodbye before she was breezing out of the room, heels clicking across the floor.

You were the first one to break the silence. “Well, she seemed nice.”

“She’s just looking out for us,” Chan said, flipping through the papers with a sigh. “Man, they moved the filming schedule up to Friday. Who schedules filming on a Friday?”

“At least we get Monday free,” Jisung offered, looking over Chan’s shoulder.

Changbin nudged you as he moved in closer, his arm going around your shoulder to pull you in close, but you froze at his touch. He noticed your discomfort immediately, backing off enough that he could get a good look at your face. He gave you a reassuring smile.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just a little embarrassing,” You admitted. “I feel like I just got scolded by my mom.”

He let out a huff. “Don’t let her get to you. Doyeon-noona is just a little stricter with us than the other staff.”

“I know. I can’t blame her for that, I … I just don’t like the idea that I have to be careful with you guys in your own studio,” You admitted. The other two seemed to pick up on your conversation, their own ramblings quieting as they turned to listen. “I know we talked about this before, and I already know how you guys feel about this, but I just … I don’t know. I wish things weren’t so complicated.”

“Like you said, you already know how I feel.” Letting his fingers intertwine with yours, Changbin pulled your hand up to place a soft kiss to the back. “But I get it. Nobody wants to feel like they can’t be themselves with the people they love.”

“People they love, huh?” As if you had sucked all the confidence right out of his body, Changbin began to splutter.

You smiled.  “I love you too.”

-0-0-

You settled into a nice routine, which often included messaging the group chat to see if any of the boys were home or available every morning. This particular day, you found yourself heading up to the maknae’s dorm in search of Seungmin, who promised you he had a few hours to watch a movie with you. It wasn’t until you got there that you realized he wasn’t the only one there.

Hyunjin was in the kitchen when you arrived. You didn’t realize until you were walking down the hall and passed by the doorway, freezing your body when you caught sight of the dancer as if you had just been caught sneaking out. He also froze, a cup halfway up to his mouth, blinking at you in confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

“Gunna watch a movie with Seungmin. What are you doing here?”

He looked down at his cup. “… nothing.”

“Is that Minho’s special tea?”

“Please don’t tell him,” Hyunjin pleaded, dropping the cup to the counter with a loud clack. “He’ll kill me.”

“Fine. But only if you make me a cup.”

“Deal.”

Seungmin showed up a few minutes later when you didn’t answer his text, taking in the two of you and the guilty looks you sported.

He smirked. “Hyung’s tea? Really?”

“Don’t tell him,” You pleaded. “He’ll kill us.”

With a smile that sent shivers up your spine, the young singer reached for his phone. You let out a laugh as you lunged for him, trying to block his sight, and he playfully grabbed you with one arm, using the other to hold his phone away from your reach. Seungmin was surprisingly strong, and you found yourself unable to do anything as the photo app was pulled up.

“Hyunjin, help!”

Things quickly went to chaos after that. The two of you managed to get the phone out of Seungmin’s hands, but Hyunjin wasn’t expecting the other boy to tackle him against the counter, both of them laughing and screaming as they wrestled for the phone. You tried to grab it out of their hands yourself, but you miscalculated.

Your socks slipped against the floor, and with a yelp, you reached out to grab onto the boys for stability. Hyunjin was pulled to the ground by Seungmin, his arms flailing as he went down. You hit the side of the counter just as one of the cups of tea was flung in your direction, and you let out a shout as hot liquid hit your chest, neck, and the left side of your face.

“Shit!” You swiped your hand across your face, and the other two grew quiet as they realized what had happened.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Seungmin was the first to react, pulling you towards the sink. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You assured him, letting him use a wet towel to wipe away the liquid from your skin. While the tea had been hot and definitely uncomfortable, it wasn’t hot enough to cause any burns. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It didn’t burn you?” Hyunjin pressed his fingers to the skin, but immediately pulled away when he realized he was leaving marks. “It looks red.”

“It’s fine. It wasn’t hot enough for that. Really.”

“Aish. You should have been more careful,” Seungmin muttered, gently pulling at the collar of your shirt to wipe at your collarbones and shoulder.

You gaped at him. “Me?! You were the one who spilled the tea!”

“Actually, I think that was me,” Hyunjin admitted with a grimace, rubbing his hand.

You pulled at your shirt. “Ugh, I need a shower. Why is it sticky?”

Hyunjin let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and it took you a second to realize why. You slapped him on the arm. Seungmin rolled his eyes at his team member, throwing the wet towel at the dancer’s face, and gently guiding you down the hall.

“Clean up the mess!” He yelled to Hyunjin, turning to you with softer eyes. “You can use my shower.”

You didn’t take a long shower, not even washing your hair since you were just rinsing the tea off. Seungmin had offered you one of his shirts to wear while yours went through the laundry, so you stopped by the laundry room to load up some clothes (you figured you might as well wash the rest of the dirty laundry at the same time) and emerged into the living room to spot both boys now calmly sitting on the couch. The tv show you had been planning to watch was loaded up on the screen, and Seungmin looked up when you entered.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” You told him, motioning to the shirt he had lent you.

Seungmin looked you up and down in a way that had goosebumps breaking out along your skin. He looked back down to his phone nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it.” You pretended not to see him smile down at his phone.

“Man, now I want you to wear my clothes,” Hyunjin whined from his spot on the couch.

You rolled your eyes, sitting down in between both of them. “Boys.”

“What! You look hot wearing out clothes.” He pouted. “Just wish it was my clothes.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” Seungmin said, looking up at you with his brows raised. From the other side, Hyunjin perked his head up like a puppy who just hear the word ‘treats’ being mentioned.

You rolled you eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Even as the show started up and you settled back to get comfy, you couldn’t help but notice Hyunjin’s pout from the corner of your eye. He only pouted harder when you turned towards him, making a point to look as dejected as possible, curling up on his side of the couch by himself. You let out a sigh, and he peeked at you with a hopeful look.

You sat up straight. “Wow. It’s really cold in here.”

“Do you want me to turn the AC down?” Seungmin offered, already reaching for the remote.

You slapped his shoulder gently, now exaggerating your voice at him. “I could really use a sweater!”

He snorted, settling back down once he realized what you were up to. It took Hyunjin a few seconds, but the dancer finally caught on once you both turned to him with expectant looks, his entire face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh!” He grabbed the ends of his sweater, struggling to get it off. “I got it! Wait- hold one .. Ash.”

He almost threw the thing across the room when he finally got it off, hair sticking up from the static electricity. Seungmin let out a cackle of laughter.

Hyunjin didn’t even seem bothered as he offered you his sweater. “Here.”

Now wrapped up in clothes from both boys, you were finally able to settle down to watch the show in peace. You didn’t want to admit it to them, but you actually did enjoy wearing their clothes. You found yourself pulling the ends of Hyunjin’s sweater past your hands, pressing the fabric to your nose and softly inhaling the scent that was a mix of laundry detergent and just … him. You smiled softly.

Halfway through the show, Seungmin reached out and grabbed your hands, pulling them away from your face and into his lap. Without even having to be asked, you reached out with your other hand and grabbed Hyunjin’s hand so that the three of you were connected. The soundtrack picked up, a beautiful melody that had you feeling sentimental.

“I love you guys,” You whispered.

Seungmin’s lips twitched up, and Hyunjin squeezed your hand.

“I love you more,” the dancer said, leaning his body against you.

Seungmin side eyed him. “No.”

“Eh?”

He pulled you away from the older boy, pulling you half into his lap and wrapping his arms around you, effectively blocking you from Hyunjin with his own body. Said member gaped at the change in seating.

“Yah, puppy. Give them back.”

“No.”

“You little-“

The show was practically forgotten as you were suddenly caught up in another wrestling match. Thankfully, this time, nobody got anything spilled on them, although Hyunjin did once again end up on the ground with Seungmin sitting on top of him by the time the show ended. It was only then that he shot you a bashful smile, swiping his hair out of his eyes.

“I love you more.”

“No, I-!”

You surged forward, nearly tackling the singer to the ground, but he managed to catch himself on his elbows as you pressed your lips to his. While he wasn’t the one being actively silenced, Hyunjin let out a wheeze that clued you in to exactly why he had suddenly gone quiet, and you quickly lifted yourself up to check up on him. At your questioning, he gave you a weak thumbs up, curled up in a fetal position.

“Oh, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

He would later tell you that the kiss you gave him more than made up for the pain.

-0-0-

The first time you ever ventured your way to a new part of the company building was on a very special day. At least, it was to you. It just so happened that the first person who answered your text was Felix, letting you know he was in one of the practice rooms waiting for the other members to show up for their practice. Granted, he also let you know he was half an hour early and was just goofing around while he waited, so you figured since you wanted to see the other boys as well, you might as well wait around with him. The dancer met you out in the hall, and you couldn’t help but run towards him the moment you saw him, jumping into his arms.

Felix almost didn’t catch you.

“Whoa, you’re in a good mood,” He said, pulling you into a warm hug.

You pulled away with a fake frown. “Don’t tell me you didn’t remember.”

He froze. “Oh no. Did I forget something?”

At his genuinely distressed look, you took pity on him, letting out a giggle and cluing Felix in that the situation was not that serious.

“Its okay, it’s not that big a deal,” You assured him, biting your lip. “It’s just … it’s officially been 6 months since we’ve met.”

The blonde blinked. “Oh, really? Wait, it’s already been 6 months?!”

“Half a year! Happy anniversary,” You joked.

He let out a laugh, pulling you back in.

“Happy anniversary.” He buried his face into your shoulder. “I’m so glad Innie found you.”

“Hey! I found him,” You corrected, brushing hair behind his ear. “I found all of you.”

“Hmm, you did.”

You shivered as he pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck, pushing him away by his shoulders with a quick look around the hallway. Thankfully, there dind’t seem to be anyone around, You gently hit him on the chest in warning.

“Careful. I’m already in the shit list of one of your managers, I don’t need to be lectured by another.”

“It’s fine. The only people who use these rooms are artists, and half of them are also in secret relationships. They won’t care.”

“That’s not the poINT!”

The end of your sentence was cut off into a squeal as Felix spun you around with a chuckle, lifting you off your feet with his hands on your thighs, pulling you in close to him until your bodies were flush. The sudden change of balance had him stumbling forward, your body hitting the wall a little too hard, and he let out a soft curse.

“Sorry.”

You giggled. “It’s okay. What has gotten into you?”

“I love you,” He said, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“What?”

“I-“ another kiss to your lips. “Love-“ a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You.”

He blew a raspberry to your cheeks, and you let out a laugh, kicking your legs in glee. You wrapped your arms around his neck, soft hair tickling the tips of your fingers as you laced them together, head tilting to the side as you took in the man in front of you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” You sighed, giving him a smile.

His eyes lit up like you had just told him the meaning of life. “Yeah?”

You nodded your head, licking your lips. “Yeah. I love you so much.”

“Good. Because I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

-0-0-

Dad Hey. Just checking in on you. How’s school going? I hope you’re having fun. Y/N School’s fine, same as always. Been seeing all kinds of places. Went hiking with two of my soulmates the other day  It was … fun. Dad I thought you liked hiking? Y/N The hiking was fine. Waking up at 5 in the morning was not. Dad Wow. They managed to get you up before 9? That’s a miracle. You must really love them. Y/N They wanted to see the sunrise. I have to admit, it was worth it. [IMG.JPG] Dad Looks beautiful. I’m glad you’re doing okay. Y/N What about you? Everything all right back home? Dad Everything’s fine. You know how your mom is. She misses you. Y/N I miss you guys too. I gtg. Love you. Dad Love you more.

-0-0-

“Here, try this.”

You looked up, startling back at the sudden appearance of a spoon in front of your face. Minho held a hand under the spoon to prevent the substance from falling, and you smiled at his thoughtfulness. You really shouldn’t have been surprised to get a spoonful of soy sauce.

“Oh, ew. That’s gross.”

Minho giggled, shirking away from the hit you aimed at his shoulder. “That’s for drinking my tea.”

“Who snitched! Was it Seungmin? I swear to god, I’m gunna kill him.”

Minho just laughed as he made his way back to the kitchen where he was preparing actual food for dinner. Deciding to take a break from your work, you stretched in your seat and let out a groan. The dorm was uncharacteristically quiet considering that at least 5 members were home.

Minho was, as previously mentioned, cooking dinner in the kitchen. Felix and Seungmin were playing a game in the elder’s room, and you were pretty sure Hyunjin was taking a nap in Jeongin’s room. You weren’t sure if the youngest was with the gaming boys or taking a nap with Hyunjin, but you were sure he was home. 3Racha had just sent a text that they were leaving the studio.

You sneaked into the kitchen, making sure Minho wasn’t currently doing anything at the stove before you wrapped your arms around him, effectively trapping his arms to his body. He paused from where he had been chopping, letting out a soft sigh.

“Gotcha,” You murmured, pressing your forehead against his back.

It wasn’t hard for him to slip an arm out of your grasp, turning around so that he could pull you into his chest. You went along willingly, letting his warmth embrace you. The two of you stayed there for a few seconds, softly breathing against each other, the kitchen filling up with the delicious aroma of whatever was starting to boil on the stove. It was only because you didn’t want the food to burn that you let him go.

“Hey, can you play some music?” He asked you.

“Sure.”

You randomized your playlist, not even embarrassed when it was a Stray Kids song that came up first. Minho smiled to himself, giving you a side glance, but you just bopped your head along and attempted the dance to the best of your abilities, even though you were sure you looked like a wiggling worm who suddenly gained a pair of legs. You were either doing better or worse than you thought because Minho actually stopped stirring to stare at you.

Suddenly you were embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” He told you, turning back around.

“Somehow that doesn’t give me much confidence,” You joked.

“Pass me the carrots?”

You grabbed the recently hopped carrots, leaning up against the counter as you watched him pour them into the soup. This time, when he offered you up a spoonful, you could actually trust it wasn’t going to be a prank.

It tasted amazing. You had never expected anything less.

“Good?”

“Hmm.” You licked your lips with a nod, and his eyes darted down. You couldn’t help but smile. “Hungry?”

“Watch it,” He warned you, turning the stove off with a flick of his wrist.

“Or what?”

You pouted when all you got in turn was a tap to your nose, your playlist switching to a slower ballad. The pout disappeared as Minho grabbed one of your hands, the other pressing up against your waist and swaying you side to side. When he pulled you back and began to spin the two of you around the room, you laughed.

“You are so cheesy,” You breathed, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“And you’re a terrible dancer.”

You weren’t sure if he kissed you as an apology, or to keep you from complaining, but you found yourself melting against him nonetheless. You didn’t usually kiss Minho often, usually getting pecks as a hello or a goodbye, but you appreciated the slow passionate way he was kissing you now. It wasn’t until the music began to change and his hands dropped yours in favor of pulling you closer by the back of your neck that you began to wonder if this was different somehow.

You eventually had to pull yourself away to breathe. “Wow.”

“If you want, I can teach you some moves,” He whispered, and you raised your brows.

“Dance moves?”

“If you want,” He said with a smirk.

He grabbed your hand when you tried to hit him on the chest, trapping your hand between the two of you. His thumb gently swiped across your knuckles, his head tilting as he took you in. You beamed up at him.

“You’re cute,” You told him, leaning up to try and kiss him again. He tried to hide his smile, looking away from you, but his red ears gave him away. “Is this your way of telling me you love me?”

He didn’t answer, just pulled you in for another kiss. It was only a soft chime echoing from your phone that pulled the two of you apart this time, Minho patting your ass.

“Go tell the kids dinner’s ready.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you grabbed your phone. Your phone chimed again as you made your way down the hall, and you pulled up your messages. One text was from Jisung, letting you know that they were on their way up, but the other was from Sophie. You pulled up the chat the same time you knocked on Felix’s door.

“Dinner’s ready!” You called out to them.

Sophie. Oh my god, is this you!???

For a split second, you found yourself thinking about the photo you had seen of you and Seungmin together and wondered if she had somehow seen it.

The reality was much, much worse.

You nearly dropped your phone when you got to the images she had sent. They looked like photos taken from a security camera, which was already a shock to your system, but it was the content that had your back hitting the wall in shock.

One photo of what was clearly Felix. There was no denying that it was him. Your face was also visible in the photo, although a little grainier. The second photo, wearing the same clothing as the first photo and obviously in the same location, was a familiar scene. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pressed up against the wall, lips pressed together.

A million thoughts began to race through your head.

Sophie I can’t believe it! Why didn’t you tell me!? Girl, you are TRENDING!

There was a commotion from the entrance, and you could hear Chan calling out your name. Felix’s door opened, and he nearly ran into you. He was laughing, the youngest two yelling something at him about their game. He met your panicked eyes, and his smile immediately dropped.

Chan appeared at the end of the hall, looking as worried as you felt. “Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong?” Felix asked.

All your thoughts converged on one very simple word.

Fuck.

-0-0-

Taglist: (if you wish to be added or removed, please let me know)

@kayleefriedchicken @dessianna1 @tryingtolivelifeblog @luvvvash @purplelady85 @jc003 @thicccurls @xxeiraxx @cluelessred3 @lemonn015 @soulpheonix1618

[catgirlwizard]

.

[eldrith]

˗ˏˋ your lips, my lips ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x fem!wife!reader words: 5.6k synopsis: you remind Jacaerys that there is no shame in accepting help, especially from his wife. notes: this idea came to me in a fever dream the other day idek. this can be read as an au, it is implied that the dance happened but that luke is alive so idk. as i always say: do what you love. i think jace can be happy for a bit, as a treat. this is honestly like 3k fluff and 2k smut lol. pls lmk what you think <3 warnings: canon-typical injury. jace is so horny and in love that he becomes a poet! light dirty talk(mostly in valyrian bc jace is shy), very very brief breeding kink, slightly sub!jace, praise kink (mutual), slight size kink, hair pulling, pussy whipped jace, PiV creampie, reader rides him. valyrian is translated at the end (author uses a translator so if its wrong im sorry). feedback is appreciated<3 requests open. masterlist.

SHADOWS DANCE. 

Toes cold upon empty stone, you pad across a corridor; short, illuminated in torchlight. A path you’ve taken many times. 

Worry twists your fingers together, toying as you watch the silhouette of your night shift swish upon the contours of the wall. Chamber doors which connect the small hall to your own are open; an afterthought, perhaps, though your husband quite often prefers to slumber with his door to yours drawn open. 

He is hurting. 

Not in any dire way, not by far. Burns, the whispers had reached your ears - from maester to house worker to ladies in wait - burns, across the Prince’s palms; some troubles while handling dragonfire. You have been alive for long enough to have seen dragons dance, see the flesh melt from bones of even those coursing with Valyrian blood in their veins. You cannot imagine the pain of it, lying marred in his palms. 

The maester has seen worse, you are told. He is not in too much pain, to your relief - he is neither sick nor hurting but rather unable to perform any tasks, no matter how menial; something you know your husband will not take lightly. Only a few paces and you reach his chambers, taking in the sandalwood and cedar smoking in small dipped sticks; a favor of his mothers, he told you once. He’s taken to them recently, to the comforting scent; as have you.  

Feet move slowly into the archway; his chambers are always so much warmer than your own. Furs, thicker - bed, more comfortable, hearth, drawn larger. Though it is more likely to do with the company. 

Your husband stands before the mirror of his chambers, his back upon you. 

You watch for a moment - his brows, furrowed in the reflection, a razor is held rather uncertainly in a bandaged grasp. A pang through your stomach at the sight of the gauze, restricting his fingers; a kind glow of candlelight dances across concentrated eyes, once-steady hands trembling as he holds the blade against his cheek, head tilted back. 

Slow breaths - your chest moves with his, as it seems to do more and more these days; a drag of a blade, the wobbling of which sets your teeth upon edge. Such a mundane chore, shaving: yet you know just as most how painful the burns of dragons may be upon flesh.

Your sweet husband is a proud soul; you can almost picture him, resolutely dismissing any offers of assistance before he readied himself for the night. Struggling to wet the razor, to lift it upon his face, yet doing so with a bristling determination. You linger, a specter in the doorway, fingers tracing the stone arch beside you as he works. Slow, determined.  

His chest rises and falls beneath the simple tunic; unlaced, revealing the glimpse of skin awaiting beneath as he clenches his jaw, metal dragging against porcelain. 

Though as soon as you draw a breath, a hiss from him - the razor has slipped, blood thinning in a bloom upon his cheek. Stark against such pale skin. He curses softly, thick brows knitting in some helplessness as his wounded fingers, shaking in pain or perhaps frustration, brush and come away crimson. 

You step forward immediately, concern overriding all hesitations and shyness you’d felt previously.

"Jacaerys," your voice, soft and scarcely a whisper, carries through the room. Through the mirror your husband looks up, his eyes meeting yours. 

A whisper of surprise in his visage that melts into some shade of embarrassment as he turns to you. Your name, falling from his plush lips, bitten in previous exasperation. His voice is warm, guilty. "I did not wish to wake you."

You shake your head softly - he’d not made a single sound since you returned from your evening duties to retire. You learned of his injuries through scarce whispers in the corners of your chamber, not from any loud disruptions from within his own. 

 Ignoring his words, you move closer - feet light, heart aching for his felt helplessness; A crimson tear beads out of the thin cut upon the cut on his cheek. You tilt your head to look into the warmth of his eyes. "You should not be doing this with your injuries," you chide, nodding to the strips of bandage around his palms.

A sigh from him, gentle nod as he looks down upon your expression. "I did not wish to trouble anyone," you find a touch of frustration still coloring his voice, but are not foolish enough to believe an ounce of it could ever be directed towards you. "I am not so helpless." he prepends with a clenched jaw. 

Nodding, you gently take the razor from his loose grip. "No, you are not.” You agree gently, “Sit.” 

You guide him to the table aside the mirror with light hands. He murmurs your name; it slips through his lips like honey. "I do not wish to burden you. It is late, I would not want to keep you awake." 

You cannot help the surge of affection; your husband, so doting, thoughtful. A gentle touch to his cheek, your fingers grazing just under the fresh cut as you swipe away the red. "Sleep can wait.” Your voice is just as gentle as his own. “And you are not a burden; You are my husband. Your troubles are mine."

He sighs, a small appreciative smile growing upon his lips. "I resent being unable to tend to myself." he admits sheepishly.

You run your hands gently over his palm, tracing gently over where gauze conceals marred flesh. “You must heal fully so you might be of aid again soon.” You pull away, crossing the room to retrieve the cloth, oils, and small bowl of water; “In the meantime, there is no shame in accepting help. Especially not from your wife."

His eyes follow you upon your return, your sleep gown swishing against the quiet of the apartments; aware of the semi-sheerness of the fabric, you feel yourself flush. His smile is appreciative.

The bowl makes a small noise as you place it upon the table - you watch the soft illumination of your reflection ripple in the water. “I am a lucky man.” He says, as if to himself; you resist the shy smile that grows upon your lips, looking away from the contents of the bowl and shaking your head gently. He does not seem prepared to leave it be, though: “I scarcely know how I came to deserve someone as wonderful as you.” 

He prefers it like this, you’ve learned; kindness, candor, sweet admissions - flushed cheeks, soft smiles. A true marriage, one being built with respect, with love. And still, moons after your union - every compliment you pay your husband he seems to return tenfold. 

It is content, quiet against the spitting of embers in the hearth as you bend before him, seeking an angle safe enough to press the blade to his skin. A soft conversation, scarcely more than whispers in the eve - though you become weary at the prospect of a safe approach. 

His legs spread wide as he watches you pace - expression somewhere between an amusement and puzzle; You let out a breath in a small huff as you draw a decision.

Your hand falls first onto his shoulder - a steadying grip as you slowly slide onto his lap, positioning yourself to see his face clearly; Jacaerys, with eyes widened in surprise and arms instinctively rising to hold you steady. Despite his injuries, his touch is firm, wrists pressing to you where hands cannot. 

A thick swallow within his throat that you steadfastly ignore. 

The touch of his arms around you, of your thighs straddling his lap - you burn, clearing your throat. Your voice comes, barely more than a breath. "Is this- alright?"

His lips, parted with the proximity, flutter before he finds words. “Y-yes. More than alright.”

With a small grin, you school yourself; pouring the oils upon your palms, you begin to smooth the ointment upon his skin. Cheeks, down the short shadow of stubble he has so resigned to eliminate this evening. A sharp jaw, a strong chin, plush lips. His breath is scarcely more than puffs against your cheeks as you press gently into his jaw muscle; his eyelashes flutter closed. 

When you bring the blade to his skin, it is with no hesitation he tilts his head for you; eyeing you through lids, the apple of his cheeks warm in the light. You release a short breath and begin to shave him with slow, careful strokes. Jacaerys remains still, his eyes fixed - you drag the blade with light pressure, a relief building in you as you begin to effectively remove shadows from his cheek. 

As you continue, the room grows quiet; a soft song of the gentle scrape of the blade and the crackling of the fire. Your heart may have fluttered ceaselessly had you been any less focused on ensuring you do not hurt him; Though there is no doubt - a very handsome man he is, and a very lucky wife he makes you. 

“How did you learn such a skill?” His voice, curious as you tilt his jaw slightly. You do not pull your eyes from your task as you hum gently, aware of his warm stare.

“I’ve never done it before,” you admit, tilting your head along with him, focused on the glide of the blade against the bristled shadow of his jaw. “Though I watched my lord father do it many times. He’d often have me sing to my younger brothers before they were put to chamber - he tended to perform tasks as such when I did so. They used to love watching him.”

Jace nods contentedly, humming at your recount. "Lucerys used to watch me when he was younger, as well.” It seems at the memory he laughs gently - the motion stunted as you hold his face in your grip. “One day he decided he was old enough to give it a try. He sneaked into my chambers and took up my razor."

You can't help but smile at the image, lifting a brow. "And what came of it?"

You sit back, preoccupied with the story - your hand wipes the blade upon the rag beside you, meeting his warm gaze as his grin widens. "I found him standing before the mirror, razor in hand.” A flicker of his gaze to the mirror behind you before he finds you once more. “I tried to warn him, but he was too stubborn to heed me. So, I stood back and simply watched."

Your eyes widen, lips parting in mild amusement. "You let him to do it alone?"

He chuckles lightly, tongue prodding his lower lip. "I thought it best he learn a lesson.” His arms unconsciously pull you closer, readjusting your position upon his lap. You swallow down the warmth at such casual intimacy between he and you. “He managed a few strokes, was quite proud of himself, until... he nicked his lip." A small gesture with his jaw towards your own, his eyes focused on the bottom lip that has found itself caught between your teeth. 

You lift your brows, your hand pausing as it rinses the blade in water. "Was he quite hurt?"

"No, just a small cut," Jacaerys soothes, laughter bubbling up again, eyes tearing from your lips up to your own warm gaze; your stomach flutters at the sound and you can no longer suppress a small giggle of your own. "But the look on his face! He was so indignant, I reckon more in his failure than the pain. He turned to me, lip trembling, and demanded to know why I hadn't helped him."

You swat his shoulder gently with the rag, trying to suppress your own laughter. "You are incorrigible, Jace. You laugh at your brother's misfortune?" You chide, teasing; He shrugs, still grinning as his eyes trace over your face warmly. 

"It was a valuable lesson, one I had to learn myself once. Besides, he forgave me soon enough. I helped him finish shaving properly and patched him up. We've laughed about it many times since." His voice is soft against the crackle of flame, adjusting his posture slightly under your weight.

You laugh gently, the image of a young Jace and Luke pulling a grin to your lips. "You two are quite the pair."

Jacaerys’ eyes soften as he hums in agreement. "I have to let him make a fool of himself now and then." 

He’s taken to moving a stray thumb - one not restricted with salves nor gauze - upon the line of your spine. A gentle ghost of affection as you shake your head fondly at him. 

You hum, resuming your efforts, now moving towards his chin with a gentle grasp. "Well, just be glad I am here to ensure you do not cut yourself again. I should not trust you alone with a razor any longer." You tease, wrinkling your nose as you fix him with a faux stern stare. 

Jace’s laugh is rich, warm. "You wound me, wife.”

The gentle laughter between you trails off amiably as you move your focus upon his upper lip; you, dutifully focused, worried of your own skills, knowing you could very easily slip and cut him - he, enduring your hand around his chin, eyes ceaseless upon your face as you move him how you please. 

You finish the last stroke, setting the blade aside; his eyes are pools; sunlit amber. The cloth is wettened - you string it out and gently press it to his skin, wiping away the remnants of shaving oil and the small trail of blood from his previous nick. 

Jace’s breaths rise and fall languidly with your own in the quiet of the chamber. Your movements are slow, tender; your focus entirely on him, ignoring the heat growing in your abdomen, his muscles flexing beneath you. A shift in the calm of the room; a once placated, gentle silence has grown into a thick, tense quiet - enunciated through short puffs of breath and the slow shifting of your bodies as you clean him.

A lean closer, his finger idly trailing your hip as much as the bandage might permit - you inspect his soft skin, the scent of the oils clouding your mind; lavender, cedar, sandalwood. Incense sticks have lost ember in the corner, the ocean rolling in tides upon the distant shores. You find no missed stubble, only undeniable affection in his eyes; you’ve begun to trace the cloth rather idly along his cheek, eyes rising to find his own gaze stuck upon your lips. Echoes of a house attendant walking out in the halls.

“Done,” You whisper, making no effort to rise from his lap; the warmth that has only grown has begun to make you sweat, that desire, still so new, growing between you. He shifts beneath you, staring blatantly, speaking no words. Worry flickers - a foolish thing, to worry when you’re with him - yet you still murmur your words. "Have I overstepped?” you ask softly, gaze flickering down to his plush, parted lips, watching as he shakes his head vehemently.

"Never," he breathes, "I’m merely admiring your beauty."

Heat. Jacaerys has never, not even in the earliest days of your betrothal, hesitated to praise you for your beauty, intelligence, wit, or heart; yet it still sets your mind dizzy each time. You send him a coy smile, hiding the flush of your cheeks under his compliment, “You only say such things because of the blade in my hand,” You tease. 

Expecting a retort from your sharp husband, your eyes flicker to his; he grins at your jest, whispering, “I would speak such words even if you held nothing but air.” 

His gaze roves over the heat of your cheeks, the flutter of your lashes. Want grows hot within you; to be seen, to be so cherished, it is more than you could wish. Jacaerys stirs your heart like no other could. You do not miss when he leans forward slightly, into your own space; the longing in his gaze is rather unmistakable, and it sends a rush of thrill through you. 

Heart, singing in your chest. “Jace.” you whisper.

He breathes your name in response; a prayer. 

“What are you thinking?” You hum, your breath hitting his own; your hands fall to grasp his shoulders, fingers trailing over the crook of his neck, the ties of his tunic. 

 "I'm thinking," His hands, despite their bandages, pull your hips upon his own quite subtly - your stuttered breath, shaky at the feeling of him beneath you, arousal growing just as your own. His voice is husky, "-that I’d like to kiss you."

 A thrill in your stomach; you purse your lips against a smile of affection before closing the distance, your lips meeting his. 

Warm, soft; gentle as he always is with you - but soon in the undercurrent of the late hour, of the thin material upon your frame, you feel fever infect you. 

It comes in a tilt, sliding your nose against his own, lust coiling between your thighs; any tension of before melts, soon replaced by an urgent need to be closer. Your tongue finds the plush of his lower lip, sliding hungrily. 

He groans softly against your mouth, his injured hands pulling you tight; The faint smell of incense, an intensity of desire matching your own - your hands tangle in his hair.

A wince as you shift, his hand flexing and drawing a grunt of pain from his lips. 

You pull back instantly. 

"Jace," you murmur in concern, even as his lips chase your own, a small bridge of saliva between you two in the firelight. Your voice is breathless, filled with longing. "We shouldn't. Your hands."

He shakes his head, his lips seeking yours. "I care not," he whispers fiercely. "If you cease for my sake, I will perish."

Your eyes roll at his dramatics, though your heart flutters at such fervent words. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and you are finding it harder to resist such pretty requests. "I do not wish to hurt you," you protest softly, though your resolve weakens with each passing moment.

He gazes at you with a mixture of tenderness and longing. “You could never hurt me. Please, let me feel you. The only pain I feel is the distance between us.”

Unbelievable, his cunning knack for dramatics.

Despite the lifted brow you send him, there is an undeniable tremor within you, your hunger growing at the lilt of his tone. Perhaps, you should feel some kind of shyness; Indeed, you’re still learning of each other. You’ve lain with Jacaerys only a few times since being wed last moon—and yet perched so firmly atop his growing arousal, you can’t help the rush of need.

“Well,” You sigh, hand gracing his soft cheek with a small look of pride, “You mustn’t beg.”

He breathes as a smirk of his own grows, “I am a prince, dōna riña. Begging is beneath me.” He murmurs, eyes aflame with that teasing craving, “but I'd gladly beg if it means I get to have you.” 

His ravenous words, mere kindle to the flame. “It is fortunate for you that I am so generous, then,” you murmur, seeking the warmth of his lips once more. He hums in agreement; a reverberation in his chest below your palms stirring a shiver through you. “Fortunate indeed,” he breathes. “Now please do not torture me any longer.” 

You pull away from his searching lips just so, watching as he chases the warmth of your breath. "If you insist," you whisper, your lips brushing against his. His breath is sharp - he dislikes being so teased when he cannot deliver it in return. "I do insist.” he murmurs, words swallowed by the surge of him, teeth and noses clashing as you exhale, stomach flipping. 

His tongue, sliding into your mouth; eager, you part lips for him. The chamber fades into shadows, a dim glow as the witness to your ardor, the only thing to hear such soft sighs and groans from you and Jacaerys. His lips leave you rather soon, peppering kisses upon the flushed skin of your neck. 

A glance behind his shoulder as you cast your neck to the side - flickering shadows, intertwined with each other in a rather sensual embrace upon the wall; Jace’s nose pressed to the heartbeat of your throat as he bites gently against your skin. 

His lips are fervent - the warmth of his breath, his chest heaving below your palms, the scent of his shaving oils - a fierce wildfire within you, consuming every thought but the touch of his body against your own.

An urge, the light pressure of his wrists, desperate to move you upon him - and then his voice, a growl. "Feel me," he breathes against your throat, pulling back so slightly to catch your gaze as his hands, light but insistent, press upon your waist. 

You respond to his urging without a thought; your hips instinctively shifting, meeting the rise of his form with an eager press. The sensation is both thrilling and intoxicating - his moan of pleasure only spurs you on, a shiver of ecstasy as you press just so upon the sensitive of your heat. 

The space between you is gone, the touch of his hands guiding your movements lightly, encouraging your slow rolling hips. The air is thick with the mingled scents of desire and embers low - you, lost in a sea of sensation. His breaths grow ragged, the intensity of his gaze never wavering as he watches you with a look of utter devotion. "Yes," he murmurs, his voice nearly breaking, "-like that, gods - let me feel every bit of you." 

At such words, your cheeks heat vividly - you surrender to the heat of the moment, your movements growing more urgent, more desperate. His breaths are hot against your cheek as you let out a small moan, toes curling as you rove your hips, chasing the heat of pleasure. 

Your movements become more frantic with each passing moment, the need to be close to him overwhelming your senses. His heart, beating as wild as a beast against your own chest; Your head grows dizzy with need, a small noise from the back of your throat as his wrists coax your hips against him. 

“Jace,” Your breath comes in puffs, cheeks hot with the incessant need to feel him within you. “I need you.” 

He hums against your mouth, tantalizing as he tilts his head, “I had not noticed.” 

So cocky; you sigh, hips ceasing slightly, hands trailing over the fabric of his night shirt, feeling the warmth of his lean muscles beneath your palms. “You tease me.” You pout; he kisses the expression away with a small grin. You insist in the absence of a response, “You are cruel, to make it so hard for me to remain composed.” His arms pull you by the small of your back in an embrace - shivers over you as you feel his hard arousal drag along the heat of your aching cunt between too many layers of clothing. 

“I would have you mad with desire, if it means knowing you are as consumed by me as I am by you.” He mutters into the shell of your ear. Your cheeks, constantly heating under his words, so effortlessly setting you afire. 

You pull back enough to trail your lips over his jaw, dropping to press a soft bite upon the skin of his neck; savoring the soft noise, near whimper, from his lips. “You speak as though you haven’t already driven me mad,” You murmur into his skin, “Though I pay it willingly; I would have it no other way.”

To wait any longer would be torture; your hands, hungry and insistent, begin to gather the skirt of your sleep gown - Jace, watching with desire burning heavy in his eyes, hands lying uselessly - the glint of frustration in his gaze is not missed; though you know he wishes to touch you, you revel in the scarce opportunity to take care of him as he does you. 

A soft smile plays upon your lips as you look into his fervent eyes, feeling the heat of his desire merge with your own; Slipping beneath his trousers, you let your fingers graze his skin just enough to drive him wild; deliberate, as slow as his own fingers often are when he finds himself between your thighs. 

His cock is heavy upon your palm; your thighs, trembling with need as you place a few languid pumps upon him. His head, falling back, hands unable to truly grasp your hips - a groan, uninhibited as his brows knit together. “You’re a vision, my love.”

The endearment sends your hips in a short buck - grinding upon his cock, your arousal finds his own; a choked moan from yourself, falling forward to his chest. Laborious sliding of your hips over his own, spreading your need and coating his cock with your desire. Fingers, twitching against your spine - your own threading through his hair. Breaths together, short huffs and unsteady inhales as you finally guide yourself to the tip of his cock. 

“Are you-” His swallow is thick, “Are you sure, love?” He has the gall to question you after such excruciating a wait - though as you stare into his eyes, a flicker, a fleeting observation; He has always taken more than enough time to prepare you to take him; it is no lie that he is rather blessed by the Father - Such memories heat your cheeks. And though you know it may sting, it does not matter to you; You would certainly welcome the sensation. You stir your hips, biting back a noise at the jolt of your sensitive clit against his cock. “Yes, Jace. And you?” You question. An insistent nod, a short groan - "Gods, yes- stop teasing me," he near whines. You conceal a small chuckle of amusement, pressing your lips soundly against him.  

And you sink onto him slowly, eyes screwing shut at the sensation - he, with a low groan, head lolling back to expose the long stretch of his neck. A sharp exhale as you lower yourself, heart slamming as you’re filled; a sating desire within you, growing as you find yourself adjusting to him. 

When you find yourself fully speared upon your husband, you let out a shuttering whimper; his fingers twitch where they lie, pupils blown wide as he gazes upon you. Your lips find his once more in hunger, whispers of moans swallowed, tongue warm as it slides into his mouth. He tastes of the anise candies he favors; a hint of wine, cherry and dark. 

He remains, hips static as you breathe through the sensation of being full of him. His lips are fervent, though any wild need to feel you around him tamped momentarily by his concern for your own comfort and pleasure. 

A distant rove of waves upon a shoreline; the memory of Jacaerys, flushed and wide-eyed the first time you shared his bed. You slowly grow accustomed to his size, the hunger boiling within you as you slowly shift, growing restless. 

And slowly, experimentally - Jacaerys’ hips push slightly up against yours. You stir at the sensation, his cock pressing a spot deep within you - a keening gasp against him, swallowing his short moan with your lips. A slow lift of your hips, feeling him press against you - your eyes flutter shut once more as a flooding of pleasure courses through you, liquid fire within your veins. 

“Gods, my love-” He nearly chokes, “J-just like that-” 

Your small gasp as you begin to rock against his pelvis, cock stirring and pressing deliciously against the deepest part of you; upon shaky legs you rise, gently allowing his cock to drag out of your hungered cunt. “Jace,” Your voice is whiny, breathless - unsure what you plan on saying otherwise, your hands slide into the curly locks, tugging gently. He is rendered unable to speak, mouth open before moving to lick the slight salt from your skin. 

A flush has grown upon your chest; your husband’s lips have found your breasts, peppering bites and lingering upon a spot just under your neckline, his groans reverberating within your skin. Steadying yourself upon him, you find a rhythm - his cock reaching the deepest parts of you, your head tilting back in true satisfaction, a heat coiling within your gut. 

And his lips, ceasing only when your fingers tug at his curls; a curve in his own spine, head falling back against the back of the chair with a groan of pleasure. Heat curls and coils, lit afire by Jacaerys and the feeling of him reaching deep within you. 

“Jace, you’re so deep-” You whisper, toes curling with the sounds of your shared desire echoing in the chamber softly. He lets out a small noise at your words, a smattering of pink across his cheeks; cock twitching with desire within you. 

The hunger calls you. Without further consideration, you snake a hand between you, down to the heat of your cunt taking him, fingers shaking as you seek your yearning bundle of nerves; His eyes, lidded as he watches you. Jacaerys, in his endless pursuit to ensure your pleasures, has always provided his fingers or tongue to bring you closer to finish - though with him injured below you, you do not mind picking up such slack yourself. 

Especially when it brings such deeply melodic sounds of need to his lips. Despite his arousal at your actions, your hand shies away - knowing whatever extension of pleasure you wish to give yourself will be no match for how he so often touches you. Your grip rises instead to steady yourself upon his shoulders, spearing yourself onto him in languid thrusts, ecstasy climbing within you like the wild of fire. 

“Look at you, ābrazȳrys.” He mutters, pupils blown in pleasure, hips canting to meet yours. Though you speak not the language, you are familiar with such a word: wife. A shudder of pleasure at his ancient tongue - of which he has whispered many words to you, most unknown.

He, the picture of the gods below you, letting out a sharp exhale in his own pleasure. His lips, slick and bright, mutter your name - at the summon your gaze finds his own, molten and hungry as your hips move together, the feeling of his cock twitching within you, reaching a spot that has your back keening.

“I’m c-close.” He whispers, a heat upon his cheeks - embarrassment, perhaps, at his eagerness. His eyes find you; you’re met with that dark gaze, regally commanding as he speaks. “Gaomagon ziry. Touch yourself, love, I want to feel you.”  

Gods save you. 

Just as your husband wishes, you drop your fingers once more with no hesitation, jolting. You do not slow your pace; thighs burning, you keen forward, whispering his name against the pulse of his throat, groaning as your fingers press further, tight circles that bring shudders of pleasure. 

“Jaesa, so pretty. Renigon aōla.” Jacaerys’ brows, knitted upwards in gratification; voice, leaking of desperation, of some kind of adulation. He quite often slips into that frantic tongue - the rush of pleasure, of ecstasy, his sharp mind rendered unable to decipher the common from the ancient tongue. You do not know the delicious words that fall from his lips, yet it does not matter - they spur you closer still towards completion. 

“Jace, I’m close,” You hiss, teeth clenched in desire; your hips, dropping upon him slower, deeper; his arms pull you closer with a groan, lips falling to nip small marks into the smooth of your neck. A moan, unbidden from his sweet lips, “Do not stop, please-” he wishes, and who are you to deny such pretty begging? 

When you hit your high of ecstasy, it is with a muffled moan of his name; into the thin linen of his tunic, legs slowing as you roll through pleasure, spasming gently around your husband. His own, quiet moan into your hair, wrists pulling you into him as he whispers, “Yes, ñuha sȳz byka ābrazȳrys, fuck-” 

A thrill within you as you ride your high, such vulgar of a word from your husband; and all, your doing. A frantic whimper from your lips into his throat as he bucks his hips up into you, chasing his own high with a soft whimper. “You feel so good, Jacaerys.” You keen, raising to his face as you feel his abdominal muscles tense beneath you; pressing your forehead to his own, you ride through your completion, heavy breaths upon each other.

Noses sliding against his, you drink his small groans, holding him close; a ghost of his lips against yours, a nip of your lip by his teeth. Long lashes fluttering, Jace finds his own high. He releases his seed into you; you feel him, his hips thrusting up into you weakly as the warmth of him spreads within you. His breath, hot against your cheek, lips chasing yours as you pull away slightly, the slight shift in position sending you both in a harmony of whimpers at the sensitivity. 

The chamber’s hearth spits and crackles; an ember lands near the floor beside the chair. It smolders out, fading slowly into darkness against the stone as you rest your cheek against Jacaerys’ chest, pleased by his gentle kisses upon your hairline.

After moments of silence, basking in your shared pleasure, you press a kiss to his chest. “Are you alright?” He asks gently, soothing over your spine with the soft of his forearms. 

You let out a shaky sigh of satisfaction as you pull back, feeling his cock within you - a fleeting thought; you hope his seed takes. He watches you, eyes warm and gentle as a shaky finger, curled in pain, wipes a stray strand of hair from your forehead - you nod, lifting your hand thumb away the bead of blood that has appeared once more on his cheek; “Yes. And you?” You wonder, pressing a kiss to the freckle upon his lip. 

His smile is the kind that makes your heart skip beats. “Always.” 

translations; dōna riña - sweet girl

ābrazȳrys - wife

Gaomagon ziry - do it

Jaesa - goddess, holy/divine woman

Renigon aōla - touch yourself

ñuha sȳz byka ābrazȳrys - my good little wife

taglist: @bitchydragonparadisee @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @jottositto @chloe-petrichors @elaena-aerrin @smurfelle @greenvita @alyssa-dayne

[loonylupinblack3]

Home Race

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles finally wins in Monaco and you're there to celebrate alongside him

Warnings: none i think? maybe slight suggestive content but very, very vague

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I LITERALLY CAN'T EVEN IM SO HAPPY FOR CHARLES YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND 😭😭 THIS IS LIKE A DREAM

Your heart was bursting. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you ran through the paddock, ignoring the flash of the cameras. Charles had won. Charles had won in Monaco, his home race, a dream he’d held close to his heart for years but one he’d started losing hope for, year by year as luck went against him.

This year was different. You’d felt it in the air, as you arrived for the weekend. A hope, latching onto your heart, stronger than usual. There was a fevored excitement in the air that hadn’t been there before, as if the people of Monaco too knew this was the year Monaco would finally accept Charles, would let him win and feel that pure ecstasy of earning P1 in your home race.

People moved out of your way as you ran, smiles and congratulations following you. Fifth place was good; you could have done better, but a 5-6 for Red Bull was still an acceptable turnout, and you knew some teams on the grid couldn’t even dream of actually achieving a 5-6, so you were okay with your result.

It didn’t matter to you much though, not with your boyfriend having finally achieved his childhood dream of winning his home race. You could only imagine the emotions he must be feeling, the joy and shock of finally winning. The relief of finally feeling like maybe, maybe you do belong there, maybe you do deserve this. The overwhelming pure happiness of winning in your home, along your streets, full of people you know, your people, watching from balconies and screaming from stands. You couldn’t be happier for your boyfriend if you tried.

You made it to the crowd waiting beneath the podium, pushing yourself to the front. You stood out like a sore thumb with your navy Red Bull uniform against the sea of Ferrari red and yellow but you didn’t care, and no one else did either. Everyone had long ago gotten used to seeing Red Bull livery in the Ferrari garage and vice versa, the two of you always together no matter what team you’re on.

Today was no different, and you were pat on the back and had your shoulders squeezed by Ferrari engineers and employees, an honorary member of the team as they liked to call you. You craned your neck back to look at the podium, waiting with a grin for Charles to appear.

When he did you cheered alongside everyone else until your voice was hoarse, clapping your hands until they were raw. Charles spotted you immediately, like an iris in a sea of roses. His already ear splitting grin widened, eyes locked on you as he took his place in the middle of the podium.

You shared a smile, trying to show all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. Charles understood it; he always did, his gaze softening, smile morphing into something special, just for you. Your heart fluttered, even after all these years together, and your smile turned slightly shy, something Charles noticed if the way his grin turned into a smirk was any indication. 

You watched as he was awarded with his trophy, hugging the Prince of Monaco like an old friend, his hair windswept and eyes alight with an infectious joy. He grinned down at his team, at his fans, and at you. He had everything he wanted in front of him. The day could not get better.

You waited for him to get off the podium, hurrying to meet him at the Ferrari garage. When he finally made it there- being the winner of a grand prix made you a very busy person- his eyes immediately scanned the area for you, the corners of them crinkling from a smile when he found what he was looking for.

You ran up to him and threw your arms around him in a bone crushing hug, feeling so overwhelmingly happy for him. He mirrored your emotions, an iron grip on you as one hand wrapped around your waist and the other rested on your back, nestling his head into your hair.

You pressed kisses to the side of his head, and when you pulled back peppered his face in kisses too, the man laughing but indulging your antics, the both of you over the moon. He cupped your face in his hands when you were done, staring into your eyes, finding the same happiness he was feeling in them. You understood each other, cared for each other and both your achievements. His happiness was yours and vice versa.

He grinned, pulling you close for a kiss. There were cheers and teasing whistles as people watched, causing the two of you to smile against each other's lips. It wasn’t a long kiss- you’d save that for later when you were alone- but it was nice. It meant something, something only the two of you would understand and share.

You pulled back, letting Charles get dragged away and congratulated over and over, but he made sure you were close by, always catching your eye in the crowd, wanting to share this amazing moment with you.

You walked by his side, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as they travelled away from the garage to the docks by the harbour. By now some employees had left, and family friends had joined the group, creating a sea of colour rather than just red and yellow. You reached the docks and you took a safe step back from Charles, knowing what was about to happen.

Just like you expected, Charles took an unsuspecting Fred Vasseur’s shoulder, manoeuvring him to the edge, and with a strong shove pushed the man into the water, a spray of water droplets hitting the now laughing crowd.

Charles readied himself to jump in and you made sure your friends were recording- you hadn’t retrieved your phone after finishing the race- when Charles paused, turning towards you. Too late you realised what was about to happen, and by the time you started shaking your head Charles had you by the hips and jumped into the water, taking you down with him.

You let out a shriek as you hit the water, the cold enveloping you as your face went under. You could feel Charles’ hands leave your waist, so you both didn’t drown, and you swam up eagerly, gasping for breath when you broke through the water’s surface.

Charles came up shortly after, laughing and wiping his face. He saw you and gave you a cheeky grin, one you responded to by splashing him with water, the man exclaiming in surprise, his pleading mixed with laughter.

Before you could continue he had his arms wrapped around your waist and was tugging you to him, creating ripples through the water. You put your hands gently on his shoulders to balance yourself, smiling down at him.

“I love you,” you whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

Charles pressed his head against your chest, giving your waist a squeeze. “Thank you mon amour. I love you too. So much.” He pulled back to look at you, his eyes full of adoration, and gently peeled a strand of wet hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

[devourable]

⚠︎ the stalker

sfw, mdni, beta read by @fluffula | tags ;; masc yandere x gn reader — stalking (duh), themes of self deprecation/lack of self worth, erotomania

hii im back from my unannounced hiatus bc i have more time on my hands :] ik vega didnt win the poll but fsr theyre the only one i could get myself to write sooo 🫶 i know im super rusty since I haven't written in ages so sorry if this is a lackluster return fic. it just be like that

vega just wasn’t the type of person that people liked. it was a fact, and he was well aware of it.

they were lanky and awkward, unkempt, and often didn’t know what to say or do in any given social situation. no one went out of their way to interact with them and vice versa. the few times he ended up around others anyway, he always found himself sidelined by the few people he could refer to as friends — they’d never be the focus, if they weren’t forgotten about entirely.

they weren’t anyone’s first choice. hell, they weren’t a second or third choice, either. it was a sad existence that he had accepted long ago — why bother trying to fit in if he wasn’t wanted? he was so boring, he wouldn’t wanna hang out with himself either, anyway. so every day and every night, they were alone.

then, he met you.

it started so simply. you started working at the same office as them, and they knew off the bat that it was your first time in a place like this. they expected nothing of you — maybe a lukewarm greeting as you passed each other during the workday, but not much more than that. so it surprised them when after your introduction, you rounded their desk and gently asked if they could show you around. maybe it was something about your tone, maybe it was that friendly look in your eye, maybe it was just you as a whole. but something about you just got them. they were out of their chair before they realized it.

they weren't the talkative type, but it didn't matter — you kept asking questions during the entire tour. what was that room for? how long had they been working there? did they like working there? you wanted their attention and they for the life of them couldn’t get why. even less so, they didn’t understand why they were so ready to give it to you. they couldn't help the way they stuttered out their answers to your questions, nor the way their face flushed after you laughed at the way they responded. but you did have to work, so you withdrew from them eventually to do just that.

well after you departed to your cubicle, you remained on their mind. your voice, the way you laughed, how you looked, it all swirled around in their mind as they sat in their desk. it remained that way the entire day, the following night, and the day after — they couldn't get you off their mind!

you chose him. you chose him, out of everyone else in the office. you were the only person that did that, and it made them feel so seen. so real, so… loved? was this what love was? the pounding in their chest and their flushed face would make him believe so. they couldn’t wait to see you again. just the thought of you returning the next day and every day after that bloomed butterflies in their tummy.

vega’s longing for you only grew more and more intense after every passing day. every day you came to work, they’d be the first to greet you and the last to bid you goodbye. they even changed their days off to match yours — going to work hardly seemed worth it if you weren’t there to make the day more bearable. every day they sat at their desk, daydreaming about spending time with you, going home with you, doing all the things they never imagined that they’d ever do before. and even though they were too awkward to seek you out during the work day, it didn’t stop them from staring at you every chance they got.

but after that first day, you paid less and less attention to them. you had work to do, after all, and no matter how hard they yearned for you, it grew harder to get you to notice them and harder for them to watch you. it was excruciating. for the first time in his life, vega wanted to be wanted — by you, specifically. he wanted your attention, your voice, your eyes on them again. but if they couldn’t have that, they needed to see you more to make up for it.

the stalking started small at first. occasionally following you when you got up from your desk to give a file to your supervisor or use the restroom, pretending to be distracted should you ever notice them (which you hardly did — they didn’t know if that bothered them or not). sometimes he ended his day at the same time yours ended so he could walk out with you, watching you leave from their car before they left themself. and eventually they started to follow you home directly. it was always from a distance. they wouldn’t want to frighten you, after all! it was okay as long as you weren’t bothered by it, he told himself.

he memorized your routine so he could base his own around it. you went to the store? he was going too. spending the day at the library? he was stalking after you from a different aisle. sometimes they’d leave little gifts on your doorstep just to see your bewildered reaction. watching you became his favorite pastime — they almost liked it more than talking to you directly. you somehow never noticed them lurking, staring at you from some shady hiding spot, panting and trembling just from the sheer excitement that your existence caused them. were you aware of just how cute you were when you thought no one was watching you? knowing all your bad habits, your mannerisms and all the things you did in private was exhilarating. it was like a secret for just the two of you. and whenever you came into work and talked to him like you usually did, it made him so fucking excited. did you know? maybe you did and you were fine with it. that had to be why you were so nice to them. they loved the idea of you liking their bad behavior.

vega had no plans of confessing to you anytime soon. he had so much fun stalking you, he saw no need to ruin it with his feelings. besides, you liked them back anyway — you had to have, why else would you let him get away with it for so long? he knew you wanted him, and he wanted you in return. all he had to do was wait for you.

[haechoxo]

[3:18 pm]

three months later

“i haven’t seen haechan this happy in months.” mumbled jeno, watching the scene unfolding across from him. there you were, animatedly explaining some workplace drama to haechan, who definitely wasn’t paying attention to anything coming out of your mouth, too busy staring at you with hearts in his eyes.

“i know, right… it’s disgusting.” renjun deadpanned.

“c’mon jun, acting like you weren’t also rooting for them back in school.” mark chided. “he finally got his shit in order, now look at him, like a lovesick puppy.” he teased.

“are you guys gonna keep to one corner for your date the entire afternoon or are you gonna tell us how haechan finally romanced you.” chenle sighed, waiting impatiently for the story.

“oh he romanced me alright,” you gushed, ready to fill them in, while haechan only grumbled, sinking in his seat, not wanting them to know the nitty gritty details of three weeks prior when he finally asked you out.

ᵎ

“so are we gonna go on a date yet or what?” haechan couldn’t hide the jittery excitement even if he tried, his leg bouncing like he was ready to jump at any moment now.

it had been two months since you made up with him, accepting his apology, and vowing to rekindle your friendship at the very least.

“hm… well i don’t know, i haven’t been properly asked…” you sigh dramatically, looking around with a rather bored expression. something finally clicks in his brain, you can almost see in the corner of your eye, a lightbulb over his head flickers.

what does he do?

“oh my dear y/n, please please please please can i take you out on a date? y/n i promise, cross my heart, swear on my nintendogs, i will make it worth your while i will wine and dine you so hard, we could do a classic romantic dinner and a movie i heard inside out 2 is doing super well right now… would you do me, lee donghyuck, the honor of going on a date with me?” the room is silent save for the literal panting he was doing, having said it all in one breath, on his knees, hands clasped together as he begged for a proper date.

your mouth was agape, you should’ve expected such theatrics from haechan, but it wasn’t any less surprising to hear such a sincere level of dedication and desperation.

“inside out 2 sounds like a good plan,” you murmur, which is immediately met with haechan doing a victory dance of sorts.

ᵎ

“check out romeo!” even jisung took part in the teasing, making haechan’s ears burn bright red.

“okay, cut it out! i thought it was cute, that’s all that matters.” you pouted at their relentless teasing.

“i thought that was a great way to ask someone out, i expect nothing less from a real man!”

“sure, jaemin.” renjun muttered.

“it’s fine, y/n,” he grabs your hand softly, “i can put up with the jokes, as long as i’m yours.”

“barf.”

“renjun!”

previous

a/n ; its over……………….. i would like to thank u guys 😖 for being here with me ☹️ for my first ever fanfic 😣 i have a long way to improve still,, especially with happy endings🤓 cuz this is kinda corny im w renjun….. BUT srsly im glad u guys enjoyed urs up til now and i hope it lived up to ur expectations,, feel free to leave ur thoughts and comments and opinions or any questions in my inbox (so i have an excuse to yap),, i do think with time i will eventually add more bonuses and standalone content that can tie in to the urs!au (so i have more excuses to yap) ,,advice is still appreciated!! xoxo jelly

[neptuneiris]

detachment (02/03)

did Aemond Targaryen truly loved you?

pairing: prince!aemond × niece!reader

summary: aemond not only breaks your heart after so many love promises, he also breaks his betrothal to you without any justification and announces his betrothal to a baratheon girl. now you will be married soon too.

word count: 7.9k

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hello beautiful people, finally here is the chapter you have been waiting for so long, im so happy, I hope you like it a lot❤ thank you very much for reading🥺

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank u, you are all awesome❣

—TWO MOONS AGO.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl."

"No, it's all right, mother. Do not worry."

"I know this is not what you wished for but—

"It is my wish."

You interrupt your mother with a small smile that she instantly knows is neither genuine nor convincing, to which she watches you for a few moments without saying anything, watching you intently.

She takes your hand and places the other on your right cheek to come closer and leave a sweet kiss on your left cheek that you allow to feel that love that only she transmits and comforts you.

She then pulls away from you a little without letting go and watches you with a small smile on her lips and a slight gleam in her beautiful lilac eyes.

"You know you have my full support, my love. And don't even think that I will leave you alone in all this," she assures you, "But I know you and you must not lie to me, Y/N."

You know that at this moment your gaze gives you away, as well as all the true feelings you are conveying but you still want to show your mother that you are willing to do your duty.

And it really is your relief that it is this person you are going to marry when it could have been worse.

"Mother, you must not worry about me."

"But of course I do," she tells you instantly, "You're my daughter and I love you."

"I love you too. But this marriage to Cregan Stark couldn't be better not only for me, but for the whole family," you remind her, "He is a respectful and honorable man. I know there will be much respect between us and eventually affection will be born. And we will have all the support of the North when the time comes for you to become queen."

She smiles softly again with that warmth and affection, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, looking directly into your eyes with all that sincerity and love.

"But he's not the one you wish to marry, is he?"

So all those pent up feelings, they want to come out at that moment. And even more so because of the way she is talking to you and understands you completely.

"Even with all that your marriage to Cregan Stark offers…. it's not him."

You swallow hard and press your lips together, starting to feel the tears want to come out of your eyes, as well as all that feeling for everything that happened and thinking about everything that could have been.

You remember how a while ago everything was fine, how everything seemed fine, how you thought you knew certain things and knew certain people.

However, he broke your heart.

Worst of all, you never knew why. You really wanted to know what had happened, what had changed his mind and if you had done something wrong, but… nothing.

He left you totally in the dark with his reasons. He preferred you to suffer and forget everything as if nothing had happened from one day to the next to accept his sudden betrothal to Floris Baratheon.

And you truly wanted to understand at the time, feeling completely broken and shattered… but he never gave you an answer.

"It doesn't matter anymore, mother. He is betrothed and now so am I. I do not doubt that after my wedding with lord Stark, his with lady Baratheon will happen soon after. He made his decision moons ago and now so have I."

"Very well," she nods at you, "You learned quickly, my sweet girl. Just as I had to when I accepted my fate."

You smile.

"You mean my father?"

"Our story was in short times, always with a lot of duty involved and inconveniences. Until we could finally be together after that horrible night," she tells you softly, "But when you truly love a person, you can't help it and you just want to join your blood with them, no matter what."

You nod, lowering your gaze, understanding.

But really understanding.

You know that feeling and you know exactly who you used to feel that way with. You were even close to being able to bond forever. But now… you're about to do your duty without that person.

"Then, my sweet girl…" your mother says to you, getting your attention again, "I'll just make sure to arrive at King's Landing a day before the wedding, as you asked. Everything will be ready by the time we get there."

You smile softly in her direction, feeling very relieved at that and nod.

"Thank you, mother."

"Anything for you, my love."

After spending part of your afternoon with your mother, you head to another of the great rooms of the Dragonstone castle, where your brothers are practicing High Valyrian and your younger brothers are being cared for by the maids.

You immediately join in caring for your brothers, listening to Jace and Luke's Valyrian, correcting them on some pronunciations and helping them to formulate words correctly.

Then Rhaena enters the room as well to look after and keep little Joffrey company, letting you know that Baela has flown to Driftmark.

Normally as the night draws in, your mother and father also spend time in this Room, all together as a family, a time when Rhaenyra wishes she could freeze and stay all together like this forever.

And that's exactly what she thinks when she enters the Room and sees all her children, or almost all of them, together attending to different duties, with a little smile and loving look on her face.

Daemon is writing something on the large table, to which she turns to him, stroking her barely noticeable two-moon belly, with a new member to the family coming into the world soon, the prince or princess.

"What are you writing, my love?"

Daemon raises his gaze to her, with the seal of House Targaryen about to embed it in the letter.

"The word to Kings Landing with the news of Y/N's marriage to Lord Stark."

"Ah yes, I forgot to do that."

"And that's why I do it for you, ābrazȳrys."

Rhaenyra leaves a soft and loving kiss on her husband's head to continue on her way to her eldest sons, listening attentively to the High Valyrian, just like Y/N, ready to correct them.

Not long after, considering that the distance between Dragonstone and Kings Landing is not too much, the raven arrives at the Red Keep with the new and unexpected news, with Queen Alicent and her father Otto Hightower reading the message.

The Heir, Princess Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing in less than two moons with her prince consort Prince Daemon and her entire family to celebrate the wedding of Princess Y/N Velaryon to Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

"This is vile and disgusting news."

"Father—

"With Lord Cregan Stark?" inquires Otto, "Do you know what this means, Alicent?"

"It can't be that bad, still Daeron's wedding to Lady Lannister adds soldiers and ships to us for Aegon's claim. So does Aemond's wedding to lady Baratheon."

"Rhaenyra will have the whole North on her side by the time the time comes and you know it. The whole fucking North fighting for her and her bastard daughter!" Otto exclaims in annoyance, "We can't let that wedding happen."

"Rhaenyra must already be getting everything ready at Dragonstone. And to try to stop her the wedding, she could easily marry Y/N to Lord Stark somewhere else," says the queen, "It will be useless."

"Call the Maester. Call the entire Council, immediately," Otto quickly orders one of his guards, annoyed and desperate.

The guard immediately complies with the Hand's order, so that very soon all the members enter and take their respective seats in the Council Chamber.

But not long after, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen also decide to burst into the room, Aemond mostly noticing that something is wrong and Aegon simply following, his grandsire surprised to see him in his five senses.

"What's the matter?" asks Aemond serious, approaching his mother.

But before his own mother can answer him, his grandsire does, only without answering him.

"Your wedding to Lady Baratheon will happen by the end of this month."

Aemond immediately observes his grandsire without any expression, hiding his surprise well, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room.

"We will send word to Storm's End's, Lady Floris should already be here by in less than five days and prepare everything immediately," Otto continues, "Not too soon after, we will send a raven to Oldtown and Prince Daeron's wedding to Lady Cerelle will also happen."

"May I ask, my Lord Hand, why so hurriedly?" asks lord Lannister.

"Yes, why?" inquires Aemond of his grandsire as well, with a tone of voice and a menacingly serious look.

But Otto Hightower deliberately ignores his grandson.

"Are you not pleased with the news, Lord Jason?" he inquires condecently, "After all, it is your daughter who is to marry a prince of the realm, my grandson."

"Not that I am complaining, my Lord, in fact I have been waiting to hear this news ever since we agreed to join our houses. But I was also hoping, just like my daughter, that the wedding would be relevant and not too attached to another wedding also of another prince of the realm. It certainly would not draw the attention of our people."

"This is not about getting people's attention, nor how attractive the union is, Lord Jason," Otto tells him seriously and clearly annoyed, "You should feel grateful that the union is going to happen, because I remind you that this is about Prince Aegon's claim to the Throne, or have you already forgotten?"

"I asked you a question and I'm not going to repeat myself," Aemond speaks again in his grandsire's direction, serious.

This immediately gets everyone's attention, but in the end it is Queen Alicent who responds in a soft, cautious voice.

"Y/N is going to be married."

This immediately gets Aemond's attention and also Aegon behind him, who was disinterested and even annoyed to hear his grandsire's words about his claim to the Iron Throne.

But this definitely gets his attention, he even watches his brother cautiously, waiting for his reaction, just like his mother.

However, Aemond keeps his usual neutral and at the same time serious face, hiding his true emotions very well, starting to feel how those true emotions run through his whole body and want to explode.

Otto watches him attentively, annoyed and serious, instantly knowing very well what he must be feeling. And that is what he, Otto Hightower, does not want.

"Yes, Aemond, with Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell," he tells him seriously, "You too have already forgotten why you are marrying Lady Baratheon precisely?"

Aemond clenches his jaw, immediately this getting his attention and watching his grandsire with a deadly and threatening look, all this together with his posture showing that he is losing his patience.

And that everyone notices.

"Aemond," Alicent calls out to him, rising from his seat.

"When?"

Aemond's voice interrupts him, in the direction of his grandsire, his whole posture tense and his hands made into fists, his jaw clenched and his gaze like that of a dragon about to burn everything to the ground.

"I told you, by the end of this month your wedding—

"No, when will Y/N's wedding to Cregan Stark be."

He interrupts her in a firm, menacingly serious voice.

"It doesn't matter when it will be," Otto tells him in annoyance, raising his voice higher, drawing everyone's attention, demanding, "What matters right now is that these two weddings happen before the wedding of Rhaenyra's daughter to Lord Stark so as to invite all the great houses, even Cregan Stark and form alliances before Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon."

"In two moons, approximately."

Alicent replies to Aemond, noting how his anger grows more and more as his grandsire speaks, not giving him an answer.

"That's what they said on the raven they sent this afternoon from Dragonstone."

Aemond lowers his gaze, beginning to think about it, about how the wedding will take place here, at King's Landing, where he will have to be present and witness it all…to Y/N, his Y/N, getting married to Lord Cregan Stark.

Lord Cregan fucking Stark.

"I doubt we can do anything about it, my Lord," Jasper Wylde speaks, "The wedding is already a done deal, we will not succeed in convincing Lord Stark to change his allegiance."

"And this is a great advantage for Princess Rhaenyra and her claim," says Jason Lannister, " Her daughter, Princess Y/N and Lord Stark together is an excellent and convenient match."

At the words of some of the council members, Aemond can't help but feel downright sick, thinking of Y/N and Lord Stark.

As you should.

His own mind tells him, feeling the fire and anger coursing through his veins, unable to control himself, thinking about what is really going on here.

"We will do whatever it takes to still have as much support as possible. King Viserys will not last long and by now we would have to secure all possible alliances for when the time comes. If war falls upon us and if we pull this off… fighting Rhaenyra and her alliances won't be so hard."

"She will have the entire North fighting for her, my Lord."

One of the members tells him cautiously, thinking about the number of soldiers Princess Rhaenyra will have at her disposal, also all the people supporting her claim, that adding up to the whole Valley.

"That's why we need to be more clever," Otto Hightower insists, "My grandchildren's weddings will be paramount in this. We need to send a raven to Oldtown, now," he turns to the Maester, "I need Daeron here at King's Landing and your daughter as well, Lord Jason. After Aemond's wedding, he—

"No."

Aemond Targaryen completely interrupts his grandsire in front of the Queen and the entire Council, drawing everyone's attention, surprised by his boldness and deadly behavior in the direction of his grandsire, who also gives him a threatening look.

"You had plenty of time to plan my wedding with Lord Borros' daughter. It's not my fault that until now you are acting when your job as the Hand is to act since you knew the threats," he tells her seriously and completely firm with his words, "If you want a wedding, plan Daeron's, not mine. I will not be a part of your incompetence when I have already given you too much."

"You are forgetting your place, Aemond," Otto warns him in a careful tone and one in which he fully tells him that he does not want to contradict him now.

But Aemond has had enough.

"You are forgetting your place," he replies in kind.

"Aemond, that's enough," his mother calls to him instantly, letting out a long breath, "You don't want to get married now, that's fine. But don't forget that eventually you will have to," she reminds him earnestly, "After all, Lady Baratheon is still your betrothed and she along with Lord Borros expect the wedding to take place soon."

Again Aemond feels sick to his stomach as he listens to his mother's words, thinking of his betrothed, Lady Floris Baratheon. The very thought of marrying her makes him feel unhappy.

But it is the truth… she is still his betrothed and whether he wishes it or not, he will eventually have to marry her, because his family swore an oath with hers, not him, but his family.

And he has to live up to the weight of that oath.

"We should continue to discuss the marriage of Princess Y/N to Lord Stark, my Queen," says the Maester.

"There is nothing more to discuss, the chances are slim with Lord Stark and we will have to focus on bringing the marriage of my son and Lady Cerelle to the attention of the great houses."

Queen Alicent begins to lead the entire Council, as Otto Hightower continues to watch Aemond with daggers in his eyes, serious, furious and incredulous at his behavior.

He thought he already had everything under control, but Otto forgot that he is not a dragon and the blood of the dragon in anyone who possesses it, especially in Aemond, is chaotic and reckless.

"Congratulations, brother."

Aegon catches Aemond's eye, watching him over his shoulder as he gives him a friendly clap on the back, almost whispering his words.

"You said you hoped our sweet niece would soon outgrow you? Well, now she's marrying the lord of all Winterfell," he says with a small smile, "She's definitely outgrown you."

And with nothing more to say, Aegon leaves the Council Chamber, not interested in the matters of the realm, much less to plan a fucking wedding and have his grandsire take it upon himself to form alliances for his claim to the Throne, as if he cares about such a thing.

As Aemond stands still for a few seconds, watching him go, his words repeating over and over in his mind, anger again coursing through his body, fire, hatred.

He wishes he could prove his brother right, but the truth is that he is very wrong.

Unable to stand it any longer, he quickly heads out of the room as well, not wanting nor caring at all to discuss these matters, this room really displeasing him by bringing back bad memories.

And as soon as he faces the corridors of the Keep, again Aemond remains static for a few moments and his mind again thinking about things he really doesn't want to think about.

But he can't help it.

Like that time he also rushed out of this room, leaving the woman he loves behind, tearing her apart in the worst possible way and pretending not to care.

Even as one of the fiercest and most brutal knights of his time, Prince Aemond doesn't know where he found the courage and strength to break Y/N's heart… his Y/N.

He has always characterized himself as an honorable and respectful man, especially to Y/N, but what he did to her… was out of his nature and highly unpleasant.

And once he was in the safety of his chamber, the first thing he did was sit in one of his chairs near his fireplace, wanting to feel the fire, with the realization slowly starting to become clearer to him, realizing what he had done.

Aemond remembers the last time he cried, it was when he was a little boy in one of his episodes over his lost eye.

A terrible migraine kept him awake for a whole day, he couldn't even get out of bed and couldn't bear to see the light of day. His mother held him tight and was there for him all the time, not even leaving him alone for a second.

Alicent tried and ordered everything to make him feel better, but the Maesters couldn't do much and all he could do, all he learned to do since he was a little boy, was to have to endure the pain.

And since then, the first tear falls down his right cheek.

Aemond, upset, angry and disgusted with himself, cries. And he actually allows himself to cry as he remembers his Y/N's precious face completely shattered and red from her crying, her whole look confused and in need of explanations.

And he couldn't even give her that, an explanation.

And the worst part was that they already had it all. It was all said and done, they were going to be husband and wife finally, as they had asked for so much.

But he finally snatched away her illusion and simply left her without explanations. And that's what makes him lose control completely.

Furious, feeling like a coward, an idiot and annoyed with himself, he lets out a growl and starts breaking everything in his room, with despair and anger in his body.

He screams and blames himself for that weight on his shoulders, a weight that does not belong to him, a weight that he had nothing to do with from the beginning and a weight that he had to let go of the woman he loves when he almost had her because of his family's ambition.

That night the servants had to silently clean the room of Prince Aemond, who, unable to bear it any longer, went for a ride in Vhagar, wanting to forget everything and everyone.

And now, in the present, him in the middle of the hall with the thought of Y/N marrying Lord Stark soon… it's too much.

And he knows it's the same feeling she must have felt when he broke her heart.

He couldn't agree more that he deserves it, but he didn't want to let her go either. Nothing he did was really his choice, but that was the right decision.

And now…he still has to face the consequences of his own actions: Y/N's marriage to a man who will not be him.

"There you have it, my princess."

"Thank you, Emelly," you smile at one of your maids, who leaves you a tray with your almost every night tea so you can fall asleep, "You can rest now."

" You don't need anything else, princess?"

"No, I'm good, thank you. See you in the morrow."

"Of course, princess. Get some rest."

The maid leaves your room, who looking at you in your mirror you continue brushing your straight, silver hair, preparing for sleep.

You've already gone to your siblings' and Rhaena's rooms, especially the little ones', to wish them good night.

Your mother and father have also already come to speak with you and have your usual conversations of the night, where they talk about your wedding to Lord Cregan more than anything else, Daemon and Rhaenyra making sure nothing else haunts your mind.

They know that a wedding can cause too much stress, especially when you're marrying the one you didn't expect from the start, talking about duty and what's expected next from you and your husband.

Your older brother Jace had told you it's a stressful but very necessary conversation, considering the next wedding in the family will be his and Baela's.

You let out a long breath, leave your brush on your dressing table and head off to drink your tea, needing to sleep.

You take the cup from the tray in your hands when the napkin catches your attention. You frown and notice how there is something sticking out from under that napkin, hidden but wanting to be seen specifically by you.

You set the cup down on the table and pick up the napkin, curious and wary, realizing that it is the small envelope of a letter, definitely catching your attention more than before.

You analyze it and there is no indication of who the message might be from. So you decide to open it, finding a small sentence and an addressee that makes your heart jump in your chest and your lips parted.

Meet me at our place by the Hour of the Wolf. I need to explain everything to you, please. I will be waiting.

A.T.

Your pulse starts to race, your whole body starts to shake and you read the message over and over again, your system making you feel more emotions and feelings as you read who has sent this to you.

You think to yourself that this must be a joke or even perhaps some kind of trap, thinking that this can't be. But you know it's him.

It's his handwriting, you would recognize it on any piece of paper, as well as the signature he always uses in all his messages, short and subtle.

Now you understand why so much mystery. But you honestly don't understand how he could have gotten his message to you. It's practically impossible.

Unless he hired or paid irrelevant people, because Emelly is extremely loyal to you and would not have done this considering your history with your uncle, as well as anyone else knows it.

Your uncle who right now must be waiting for you.

Your mind tells you as you look at his message in front of you, surprised with your parted lips, with a feeling starting to invade your chest that you don't know exactly what it is but… it causes you some emotion.

And you can't. You truly can't do this.

You remember everything that happened, what he did to you, what his grandsire did to you too, and how broken you felt, how he broke your heart and left you without explanation, only to become betrothed to Floris Baratheon.

You swallow hard, walking to your huge windows, looking out at the night outside and barely lit by the fire torches that light a little of the roads around Dragonstone, looking out beyond the sea, in the direction where that island is and where you and Aemond used to meet.

You press your lips together, feeling a sharp pain in your chest, as well as that uncertainty and beginning to take into consideration what he has written to you on that little piece of paper.

But again… you can't.

You are both betrothed. You are betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark, you will marry him soon and then… probably he will marry Lady Floris Baratheon as well.

You know you shouldn't even consider it, you know you shouldn't feel that curiosity and longing, because he doesn't deserve it.

That's why you make your decision just as he made his moons ago.

Even though you admit that it hurts and even costs you, you still think of yourself, because he doesn't deserve you to feel this way about him, not after all the damage caused.

You don't know what Aemond really thinks, but it certainly isn't entirely wise to ask you to meet in the hour of the Wolf as if nothing had happened.

And what a coincidence that he does this just when your wedding is in a few more weeks.

You stare out over the sea for a few more moments, thinking, but having already made up your mind. You let out a long breath and without hesitation, you head to your fireplace and throw his message into the fire.

Then you head back to your table to drink your tea and drink it all down so you can finally sleep and forget this ever happened.

While on the small island in Blackwater Bay, Aemond Targaryen keeps Vhagar close by, watching as he sits on a huge rock on the sand of the beach towards the direction of Dragonstone, waiting for you.

He doesn't really find much to entertain himself with, beginning to feel anxious with each passing minute and still not seeing any dragons approaching in the night sky, getting up and pacing back and forth, letting out long breaths and trying to calm himself.

He would be a fool not to have thought that maybe you would ignore him and not even in your greatest madness, the other side of the Targaryen coin, would you agree to meet him after all that happened.

Of course he had thought about it. But he still decided to risk it.

But the minutes pass and pass, with Aemond waiting for you, disappointment and reality coming at him like a strong wave every moment he is still there alone on the island.

He feels frustration beginning to course through his body, also anger but not for you, but for himself.

He thinks of your soon marriage to him, Lord Stark and feels more despair coursing through him, not even bearing the thought.

He asks the Seven to you please show up, really wanting to explain himself.

But he knows it is too late. He was never going to get this chance, because he really hurt you too much and he knows it, he knows it and he has the memory more vivid than ever.

But even though he knew it, he can't help but be disappointed as he continues to wait for a dragon in the night sky that never came.

—PRESENT

The days go by too fast after the conversation with your mother and after so many preparations and requests for the wedding.

When the wedding day finally arrives.

Your mother overlooks her pregnancy, considering she is barely four moons pregnant, to ride Syrax and take her with her to King's Landing while you ride Silverwing so you both arrive in the capital a day before the wedding, as you wished.

You try to suppress all feelings along with the nerves of returning to the Red Keep, where there are many buried memories and people from the past. However, you are here for your wedding.

You know that this visit is brief just to get the wedding over with and nothing more, then your family will return to Dragonstone or probably your mother will decide to stay again to take care of your grandsire, while you will go to Winterfell.

You really want to know the North. It was one of the few conversations you had with Lord Stark and he agreed, as well as both of you being present at Court after spending married moons.

And you really have no intention of anything else happening and just let it happen as it should. And just before the sun sets, you and your mother arrive at King's Landing.

You meet your father, your brothers, sisters, also your grandmother Rhaenys and your grandsire Corlys, even also Queen Alicent welcomes you both back and also gives you her congratulations for your wedding.

If you didn't know her, you wouldn't know that her smile is fake. Clearly Alicent didn't want you to marry her son but neither did she want you to marry a person as influential as Lord Stark. But honestly you don't care.

She is the one who directs you and your mother to the king's chambers, to whom your mother wishes to speak and also in case she wants to dedicate a few words to you for your wedding.

On your way back to your room you meet your aunt, sweet Helaena, who welcomes your mother with a charming look and smile, also you, congratulating you on your wedding.

Fortunately you don't meet any other relevant people, just as you didn't see him or his betrothed anywhere, which you are thankful for.

Because the sooner this could happen, without distractions and unexpected inconveniences, the better.

The only thing you remember about that night when you arrived at King's Landing is that you had to drink a large and considerable amount of your tea in order to sleep, not being able to fall asleep because you were thinking about tomorrow.

And honestly also for thinking a little about him.

You were afraid that he would suddenly enter your chamber through the secret door, because surely he hasn't forgotten his request to meet you on the island to explain everything and you never showed up, but fortunately that didn't happen.

And when you least expect it, you are already at the celebration feast with all the guests present, you looking like a bride, waiting for your betrothed, everything going according to your mother's plan.

The common thing in a wedding is to get married at the Septon and then move on to the feast, but in this case, your mother chose the other way around, just like her wedding to your father, Sr. Laenor.

You learned that Alicent had questioned this, but your mother didn't care much, just reminded her that this was how her wedding had once been and that this way, you would feel less overwhelmed, knowing you perfectly well.

When it all begins.

They have already announced the king, also all your family, only the Hightower-Targaryen and also your betrothed are missing.

Your grandsire is seated at the large table next to his wife on the right side, while your mother is seated on his left side, followed by your place and then your betrothed's place. Your father takes a seat at the head of the table on the left side along with your brothers and sisters.

All the lord's and lady's present are spread throughout the Throne Room, as the food will soon be served and the musicians are already in position to begin at any moment.

Your mother at your side holds your hand to give you her support and her soft, sweet smiles in your direction to help with your nerves. Although she also makes sure that your entire appearance is intact.

It was always Rhaenyra's wish that her daughter, her first daughter, would have a wedding like hers was.

She would also prefer a Valyrian wedding, in fact that was her illusion when the king gave his blessing for the wedding between Y/N and Aemond.

But now, things are different and considering that Lord Stark is not Targaryen, clearly, a Westerosi wedding was the best option. And you did not complain at all.

In fact, it filled you with excitement and affection that when your father and grandfather saw you entering the Room, with your appearance for the occasion, they instantly told you that you wore them many years ago, when they were also in this same place and your mother married your father, Laenor.

A white dress with shoulder-length sleeves draws attention with golden details and some chains adorn around your waist with dragon figures.

Your hair falls in elegant waves, reaching above your waist, with some very subtle braids adorning the top of your head.

Your mother wanted some golden pins to be placed between your hair, also jewelry such as gold necklaces, rings and bracelets, to look more and properly like a Targaryen princess.

When at that moment, they announce the missing people at the big table. The people or rather the person you most expected and never wanted to arrive at the same time.

"Prince Aegon Targaryen, first born son of King Viserys Targaryen with his lady wife, Princess Helaena Targaryen."

The doors directly in front of you allow you to see the entrance of your uncle and sweet aunt who together make their way over to you to take a seat beside Queen Alicent.

Aegon's appearance is appropriate, however, due to all the rumors that keep spreading to Dragonstone, his condition is far from the best for a prince of the realm. His tired face with large bags under his eyes and his clear boredom and disinterest in being here is clear.

However, after all he seems to be willing to drink wine and enjoy himself.

But your sweet aunt by his side completely overshadows him once the view is on her and her beautiful sky blue dress with light silver tones and all her bright and sweet look that characterizes her so much.

When they announce the next people and you try not to make a big deal of it once Aegon and Helaena take their seats.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys and Prince Daeron Targaryen, the third and final son of the king."

So both of them, he, now enter the Throne Room and you avoid looking too much, as well as feeling too much.

You try to distract yourself with the fact that you hadn't seen Daeron in a very long time, nor had anyone else, not even your mother or father. You thought he would still be in Oldtown because he wasn't even here for Helaena and Aegon's wedding.

Maybe he really wanted to fly here, but he was not allowed to, maybe because of his age, knowing that Queen Alicent does not like dragons and is very overprotective in that aspect.

But now that you are looking at him, he is tall, very tall. Not as tall as he is, but for his age, he's definitely growing into a man. But even though you want to focus on Daeron, you don't as you focus on him, inevitably.

His walk hasn't changed, neither has that determination, that confidence and that kind of power he possesses just by looking at him, also that fear and respect at the same time.

And his appearance��� hasn't changed either.

Maybe his continuous training has made him look a bit stockier of his arms and his body in general, but his hair, his face and his eye patch is the same.

But he gives you the impression that he's even more handsome.

You look away from him in an instant, as everything that happened comes back to you in a matter of seconds, which is inappropriate. But all you can think about is him.

His hugs, kisses, caresses… all those words of love, all those wishes and all those promises… all only to end in an unexplained broken heart. You swore that he and you were destined to burn together. You swore that you would marry in the tradition of your house.

You swore it would be him and you.

But he made his decision.

And now here you are. He's betrothed and so are you, where by the end of the day you'll be married.

You completely avoid looking at his face once he starts to walk up the steps to take a seat next to his brothers, just like Daeron. You don't feel his gaze at any moment, just as you don't dare to look at him either.

When you ask yourself; where is his betrothed?

She must be here for such celebrations if they are betrothed. And you are sure that Floris Baratheon would not want to miss such an important celebration at the Red Keep.

However, he is all alone and his betrothed seems to be nowhere to be found. Doubt lingers but the feast gives you something new to think about when they announce your betrothed.

"Cregan Stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, the future lord husband of the bride, Y/N Velaryon."

At that moment, everyone at the table rises to greet your betrothed who walks towards you with a kind and respectful smile, looking very well for all this celebration. Or at least most of the people at the table stand up….

You can notice out of the corner of your eye how on Queen Alicent's side some people are still seated, but you don't dare look at them, though you get an idea of who they might be.

Still you focus on your betrothed who bows to the king once he arrives at the table and then makes his way to you to take a seat next to you.

Not before taking your mother's hand to plant a gentle kiss on the back of it, which she accepts with a kind and sweet smile and then turns to you and does the same with more affection.

You smile in his direction as you return his gesture by placing a soft kiss on his cheek and then both of you take a seat, as well as everyone else. When your grandsire, the king, gives a short speech before the feast begins.

And once everything has been said, the feast begins. The music starts and the food is served.

You feel his gaze for a few seconds, not long enough, but you don't notice him at all and continue to enjoy the feast. You talk to your mother from time to time and also to your betrothed, that is if your father and Jace are not talking to him asking him about Winterfell and the Wall.

Your sisters also ask you from time to time if you are feeling well and you can only nod, telling yourself that this is really happening and you have to completely ignore his presence.

When the time comes for the opening of the dance.

Cregan rises from his seat first and offers you his hand to lead you to the center of the Room, which you gladly accept and together you walk to dance in full view of everyone, a traditional Westerosi dance.

It is a simple dance, nothing difficult and you really enjoy it, while you focus your gaze at all times on him, Lord Cregan, who also smiles softly in your direction and does perfectly the right steps, all under the watchful eye of all the nobles present and also of your family.

Both of you stand back to back, and then both of you slowly raise your arms to shoulder height, while you can't help it and turn your gaze towards him, already feeling since the dance started his burning gaze.

Aemond has a meaningful look on his face when your gaze meets his, acting nonchalant, watching you intently, raising his wine glass to his lips.

You can only smile really ungracefully and turn your gaze to the front, continuing to dance and focusing only on your betrothed.

While Aemond at all times… wants this to be over and done with. Though I'd prefer to think this isn't really happening.

He feels like an alluring force, as he can't take his eye off of you, looking at you so beautiful in that dress, knowing in an instant that this is not the dress you would have worn for their wedding. But you still look really beautiful.

A true Targaryen beauty.

A warm feeling envelops him every second he sees you there, so perfect, dancing, smiling and catching everyone's attention, his especially at your every move, not realizing that his face gets softer every second as he watches you.

However… everything is replaced by hatred and anger when those smiles are directed at Lord Stark. And by the way he looks at you too… he wants to burn everything to the ground, clenching his hands into fists.

"Easy, little brother."

Aegon murmurs behind him, over his shoulder, amused, his breath smelling very strongly of wine.

"Everyone can sense how you're starting to wake up. You don't want to cause a fucking scene at our niece's wedding because of your jealousy, do you? Grandsire won't be too pleased."

Aemond can only feel that rage come over him more, knowing full well that Aegon has no intention of calming him down, but to provoke him further and do exactly as he has told him.

And he is succeeding.

Especially in the moment when he again focuses on you, smiling at Lord Stark, glowing and looking this beautiful but for him, Lord Stark, not for him, the one she was supposed to marry and be completely his.

And he regrets it so much, he regrets it so much that he called off their wedding and also leaving you without explanation, knowing that this is exactly what he deserves, to see you happy without him.

As the dance of just the two of them ends and a new song begins, in which he watches as Y/N, his Y/N, places one of her hands on Lord Stark's shoulder and the other intertwines with his, his other hand on her waist, this only making him angrier.

A more choreographed dance begins and the nobles in pairs also begin to join the center of the Room to dance, beginning the real celebration.

And Aemond sinking in his own misery, thinks that he could have survived watching Y/N dance with Lord Stark at an appropriate distance. But now they are both chest to chest, smiling and talking about something with all the nobles also dancing around them.

He doesn't understand that important thing that the two of them are talking about, but he doesn't like it at all, neither does the closeness. In fact he doesn't like any of it.

All he wants is to get her away from him, away from all of this and make her his, finally, no matter what.

His breathing starts to get heavier by the moment, thinking that by the time this is over, she will already be married to him and they will go away together, where they will have to consummate the marriage.

The very thought makes him only feel more enraged and more courageous to snatch her from his arms, not caring about her family and his, not caring about his grandsire and his words, not caring about his mother's words either about "you have to control yourself and think of us."

Not only does Aegon notice her state, so does his grandsire, who watches him intently and cautiously, noticing the look on Lord Stark's face more than menacing, about to do something foolish even though he was very clear with him before attending this feast.

He also catches the eye of Rhaenyra, who watches her husband and subtly points to her half-brother, instantly Daemon knowing exactly what is going on.

And how could he not know?

It reminds him of him many years ago, also watching the woman he loves, about to marry someone else who is not him.

He places a small half smile, bringing his wine glass to his lips, watching his nephew attentively and amused, almost expectantly, wondering even though Aemond has his full attention on you, if he will finally do something about it or what.

"Aemond," his grandsire mumbles to him.

But Aemond, beginning to go into his madness, doesn't watch or listen to him, watching you intently.

"Aemond, I'm warning you," his grandsire insists.

"Oh come on grandsire," Aegon tells him amused, "You know it will be useless. I can tell you don't know him."

And even though Aemond is immersed in his madness, he still thinks and remembers the words of his grandsire and mother.

"I will overlook that it was you who prevented the raven to Storms Ends from arriving when you knew perfectly well that your betrothed should have been here days ago."

His mother tells him seriously and annoyed.

"Now you will attend this wedding alone and I expect you to behave yourself. Just as I expect you to come to terms with the idea that you will marry Lady Baratheon by the end of next month, without protest."

"And you are not going to commit any of your foolishness at the Y/N wedding, do you understand me?" Otto immediately threatens him, "You're not going to talk to Y/N, you're not going to threaten Lord Stark either, and you're going to let the wedding happen in peace, is that clear? "

Aemond feels a bitter feeling, continuing to watch you attentively and him watching threateningly, with the fire in his body about to explode.

"You know what your problem is, grandsire?" Aegon says to Otto Hightower, who watches him seriously and on the verge of losing his patience, "You question the blood of the dragon too much."

And in that same instant, Aemond rises from his seat in a confident movement, with his gaze firmly fixed on you, who are completely disinterested in what is happening with him, completely focused on Lord Stark.

And Aemond's movement completely catches the attention of his grandsire, his mother, also your mother and father, who in an instant look at each other, definitely remembering the past.

Aemond makes his way towards you, not caring about anything.

He doesn't care about his mother and grandsire, he doesn't care about the war that will probably befall them when his father dies, the only thing he cares about at this moment is you.

taglist:

@iloveallmyboys @libdarkheart @angelianlearp @happinessinthebeing @targaryenmoony @tempt-ress @callsign-blue @twobluejeans @luna-salem @literatureluster @thekinslayersswordhand @queenofshinigamis @bugshideaway @minttea07 @itszzmoon

[ifyoucandaniel]

I want to thank you for making your list of recommended long batfam fics. I have been making my way through it and I am really enjoying them! ESPECIALLY cards on the table (I also love Dark Matter but I had already read it). Please let us know if you ever get more long batfam fic recs 🥺

okay so ive been waiting to answer this until i had gathered a good chunk of new long fics and ive been getting a lot of similar messages asking for recommendations, so here is another list of my fav long batman fics!

Jason and the Three Terrors by @cdelphiki, 220k, ongoing, T. if i can get you to read one thing, let it be this. ohhh my god where to even begin, this is a fic where jason stays with the league after his dip in the lazarus pit for a little while and winds up being charged with getting damian, his cousin, and his sister out of the league safely. this fic is just so fucking good, cdelphiki always writes such seamless relationship growth and watching jason go from "im dropping these brats off first chance i get" to "im a single mother of three and i need to provide for my kids" is phenomenal. 1000/10, the writing, the kids, the relationships, please do yourself a favor and read this.

A Collision of Masks by Movaz, 169k, completed, T. !! guys. this is such a good dick grayson-centric fic. this is set in an AU where batman never joined the justice league so the justice league knows very little about batman inc. and consequently dick never joins YJ so the YJ team is tasked with checking out a new hero called nightwing in bludhaven and police officer grayson is tasked with helping the team in their investigation :) really good fic exploring dick juggling all his identities and finally gaining people he can rely on! i actually did a bind of it so you know i love this story so much

Life Happens by @cdelphiki, 176k, complete, G. ok so this fic is probably one of the most beautiful stories of growth and love i've read. its about tim and damian being transported from their world into ours where they're only comic book characters and they start to build a life for themselves here. cdelphiki is one of the most amazing authors, im currently going through all of their works, but this one has just stayed with me and i dont think anyone should pass it up. watching tim and damian grow together and seeing damian have a real childhood and just the whole concept of life happening wether you want it to or not is so beautifully done. cannot recommend enough.

Honoring Promises by LananiA3O, completed, 14k, T. okay this isnt actually a long fic, but its one of my favorite fics ever and i need it on this list. if you're like me and you love UTRH aus where instead of sticking around as red hood after bruce threw a batarang at his throat jason fucks off and disappears to live a normal life, this is for you. from dick's pov, he realizes jasons last letter was a last attempt at reaching out and stalks him until he finds out what really happened to his little brother. i think about this every day and wish it was 10000 words long

The Time Before by @cdelphiki, 80k, completed, G. at this point this is basically just a cdelphiki fic rec lmao when i said everything by them was good, i meant that shit. this is a fic where jason is sent back into time when he was 9 years old but still has all his memories from the future. he goes to bruce for help despite wanting to do literally anything else and is surprised to realize maybe everything isn't how he remembers it 10 years in the future and maybe theres a chance he can go home when hes older again. once again cdelphiki hitting me in the feels with this one, really amazing study on how time and pain can change how you perceive and remember things and also just forgiveness and fixing mistakes and accepting mistakes were made. very good, highly recommend

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors by Sophene, 80k, completed, batlantern, T. I have no excuse for this, this is such a fun and funny fic i love it so much. basically HOA president single dad bruce with his 10 million adopted kids and then hal jordan moves in next door and plays his music too loud at 10pm on a school night and throws parties and bruce has a stick up his ass about it. i really really love the shift in hal when kyle comes to live with him as his ward (? i cant actually remember if hes adopted or just a ward) and seeing him finally understand why bruce acts the way he does when it comes to his kids. also seeing bruce just being a tired dad 90% of the fic when he isnt glaring at hal is so good.

Option C by CasualGeek, 78k, completed, T. this has, in my opinion, a very unique and interesting premise. basically, what if instead of becoming red hood, jason comes back to gotham and manages to get Joker put on trial for the murder of sheila haywood and get the insanity plea thrown out. really interesting approach to batman and joker and jason technically doing things through the legal justice system and what that means for him and the people around him. very good, read it all in one sitting

butcherbird, fly away home by e_va, 41k, completed, M. lost days jason todd loml! basically what if when jason was off on his world tour one of his tutors kidnapped bruce wayne and jason has feelings about it against his will. "what if lost days jason was stuck in the same room as a sick bruce for more than 10 minutes and actually had to talk to him without punching him" AU and i throughly enjoyed it. @darlingatlas recommended this one and she never misses with the jason recs

this kind of weather by r_astra, 55k, completed, T. this is the fic something in the static was originally inspired by and if you know me, i love that series, and i love this fic too. another what if jasons mom didnt die until later and social services gets involved before he can bolt and bruce seeks him out with some very interesting news. i love fics that display jason’s relationship with crime alley and him being one of them. very good, i love jason so much

ok now these aren't actually long fics but i need to get them out here because i love them so much and highly recommend!

To My Brother by a_silly_gander, 7k, completed, T. Lost days jason au where he starts sending post cards from his travels to dick on a whim while we follow his time away and the people he meets. i love this one so much, please read it if you love jason and dick, its so special to me.

Enhanced Fashion Sense is a Perk of Being a Cat by 12pt_timesnewromanfont, 23k, complete, G. selina breaks into drake manor to steal a cat artifact and accidentally meets the drakes ten year old son they left home alone. then she starts keeping tabs on him and eventually adopts him and makes him stray. i really love selina finding tim before bruce and taking care of him <3 10/10 i wish selina would adopt me

[hannieehaee]

hi! i wanted to request seungcheol x reader based off of ‘how you get the girl’ by taylor swift? thank you!

content: inspired by 'how you get the girl' by taylor swift, angsty, fight between reader and cheol implied, fluff ending, etc.

wc: 738

a/n: ive never rlly listened to taylor before so im sorry if i took the lyrics out of context i tried to research the meaning of the song but i wasnt 100% sure T-T anyways tysm for requesting sorry i took so long <3

masterlist

seungcheol knew he had royally fucked up.

the details didn't matter now. it had been a while now – six months to be exact – and he still couldnt get over you. he'd see you around town occasionally, and you'd look perfectly fine. how could you be fine when he was so empty without you in his life? were you really better off without him?

he tried to move on, he really did, but no one was like you. the type of love you had was the type he wanted to be his endgame. there was no question about it. which was why he needed to fix his this.

it started with attempts to be in the same spaces as you again. he would find out where you'd be from mutual friends (okay, a little stalkerish, but it was fine!) and make sure to be in attendance to any party you'd go to. lucky for him, you were best friends with his good friends soonyoung and vernon, which gave him the perfect opening to approach you every time. at first you'd look peeved off by his presence, but after a few times you seemed to warm up to him, even laughing at his jokes sometimes. after a few weeks of intruding your friend hangouts, it was as if he'd always been there.

the day finally came in which you'd been left alone together at a party, with both soonyoung and vernon leaving one by one. it was getting late, so seungcheol offered to walk you home, which you surprisingly accepted with a polite smile. you talked like old friends on your way back, never once making any mention of the relationship you used to have. that made cheol both sad and relieved. it was good you weren't hurt by it anymore, but did this mean you were now looking for a mere friendship out of him? he had tried to bring back the old dynamics between the two of you. he had even been as physically affectionate as your newly-developed friendship would allow, but it seemed like that wasnt what you were looking for. seungcheol couldnt help but carry the disappointment in his face as the two of you arrived to your home.

"cheol? what's wrong?", you asked as soon as you caught sight of his face.

"hmm? oh, nothing. im fine. i, uh, goodnight. thanks for letting me walk you."

before he could even turn around, you pulled at his arm to grab his attention.

"cheol, what is it?"

he hesitated in speaking up again. he knew himself to be an outspoken man to a fault. and how was be expected to hold back when you looked so pretty under the moonlight and were even showing concern for him?

"i love you,"

fuck. that's not how he meant to start. and that was clearly not what you had expected him to say, judging by the shocked expression on your face.

"what?"

"im still in love with you, i- i know i fucked up, and i know i waited too long, but ... seeing you move on in life without me made me lose my mind. i know i shouldve apologized earlier. and i cant even blame you for breaking up with me, i ... i was a shitty boyfriend. i didnt treat you how you deserved. but i'll be better now, i promise! just give me one more chance. ill give you everything i shouldve back then and more. i know it's been six months, but ive been losing my mind without you. i know we could make this work. please?"

he knew he mustve looked crazy as he rambled his sudden love confession to you, but he still hoped that you'd maybe take pity on him and take him back. however, after a full minute of silence from you as you didn't meet his eyes, he knew that luck probably wouldnt be smiling at him today.

he turned to leave without a word until you unexpectedly stopped him again.

"wait, cheol," you seemed kind of shy about your movements, but still offered him a smile.

"come in? do you ... will you stay the night? please?"

your shy smile was met with his bright one as his arms warmly wrapped around yours, kissing your cheeks over and over as he used to once upon a time, walking the two of you into the apartment he was once oh so familiar with.

[lovelywritinglady]

This is my first request, I want to see how Tengen and his wives react to one of the wives (y/n) has been taking more naps then usual and hasn’t been walking around as much.

When they go to the hospital about it, they find out that it’s because the chronic pain (description: pain that last longer then three months no matter what medication they take) as well then having not much stamina.

Sorry if this is too complicated, I just been having a lot of trouble even getting out of bed without a walking stick. IM NOT EVEN FORTY

thank you

I shall do my best!! Thank you for requesting!

We’ll Take Care Of You

Tengen Uzui x fem!reader x wives

Fluff, mentions of polygamy, reader has a condition, slight angst.

Tengen Pov

Coming back from a month long mission was one of the best things to me. The look on my wives' faces when they see me again reminds me of all of the love I'm given. Currently I am a few steps from reaching my home when I hear my lovely wife, Suma, call that I am home. I smile at her excitment and quicken my pace as to not keep her and the others waiting too much longer.

Stepping into my rather large estate, I'm immedietly greeted with three bone crushing hugs and whines of worry. If I wasn't already sore from my fight earlier, then I'm definately sore now. Immedietly I wrap my large arms around their figures, but just as soon as my excitment comes, it is replaced with worry.

"Where is Y/n?" I ask my beautiful wives who are still wrapped around me.

"Oh, Lord Tengen, she is in bed. She hasn't been feeling too good for a while." Suma responed with a look of worry on her face now too.

"Is she sick and have you called a doctor?" I asked breaking a hug and looking to Makio and Hina for answers as well.

"We have and she has no sickness, she's just been in some pain and that has been causing her to be in bed a lot." Makio tells me.

"I'm going to go see her alone if that's okay with you three?" I tell them making my way to go see my Y/N.

"Of course, Lord Tengen, I'll make us some food in the meantime." Hina tells me as I'm walking to Y/n's room.

Slowly I opened the sliding door of her room only to be met with a lovely sleeping figure buried underneath blankets looking very comfortable. I slightly chuckled at the sight, but remembered that she has been sleeping an abnormal amount. Crouching down I wiped some loose strands of hair that fell on her somewhat peaceful face; thanking God that I get to witness the beautiful sight before me. Y/n then opened her eyes slightly giving me a smile.

"Lord Tengen, you're back!" She said quietly but the excitment in her voice was heard.

"Yes, and I hear that you have been sleeping a lot. My love, what is going on? Are you hurt in anyway?" I asked her as I laid down on the bed facing her and wrapping my right arm around her.

"I'm not so sure, my body aches all the time and I'm so sleepy. I'm sorry to have worried you Lord Tengen." Y/n says with tears prickling her eyes. Smiling at her I gently wipe the tears from her face and then carefully placing gentle kisses on her nose, forehead, cheeks, and finally a loving kiss on her soft lips. When I pulled away from her, she looked content and relaxed.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. How about I take you to the hospital tomorrow so we can see what is hurtung my baby, hmm." I tell her as she nuzzles into my chest.

"Thank you, Lord Tengen." she says in a cute whisper.

"Of course, now I think you should try to eat something. Plus Hina is cooking and we both know how healing her cooking is." I joke

"Yeah, she's been making me food recently and Makio and Suma have been making me feel comfortable and have been taking care of me too. I'm so thankful to have them here." she tells me and I can tell that she's blushing from that thought.

"We all love and what to take care of you and won't rest until you're better." I reassured her as we both got up from the bed. Her legs were wobbly so I offered her a piggy back ride which she gladly accepted. "Now come on, lets get you fed." I told her as I began walking to the kitchen.

"I love you, Lord Tengen." She hummed

"I love you too" I responed flashing her a wink.

"Hey, what about me?" Suma whines from the kitchen.

"Yeah, you love me too right, Lord Tengen?" Makio chimes in with a fierce blush across her face. "Yeah, Yeah I love you guys too." I told them

The Next Day...

Y/n and I left to the doctors as soon as the sun peaked through the clouds. She wasn't feeling her best so I decided to hold her on my back. My sweet wife was so sleepy and I could tell that her eyes were heavy as she did her best to keep her head upright.

"Y/n, if you need to sleep that's okay. We'll be at the doctors in about 20 minutes if you'd like to sleep until then." I spoke sweetly to her.

"Okay, I am pretty tired." She whispered as she placed her head back on my shoulder and closed her eyes. Soon enough she was sound asleep.

"Heh, such a cute girl." I smiled making sure I treaded lightly as to not awake my sleepy wife.

About 20 minutes later, we arrived. My sweet Y/n was still asleep on my shoulder and I reluctantly woke her up and as I did she slowly open her beautiful eyes and let out such a small yawn. I slightly blushed at her cuteness and reached to give her a small kiss on her cheek. She smiled at me and then made her way off my back and immedietly put her hand in mine. I could tell she was nervous and she took a deep breath and practically pulled me into the doctors home. She walked up and introuduced herself and stated that she had an appointmemt. I was astonished by her strength and admired her flashiness. After a few minutes, the doctor came out and called out my wife's name.

"Uzui Y/n, Uzui Y/n? A small older woman asked scanning the room.

"Yes, that's me." Y/n said as she walked over to the doctor.

"Love, do you need me to go with you?" I aksed hopeful that she'd let me.

"No honey, i think I'd like to do this alone if that's alright." She told me as she reached up and gave me a quick kiss on my left cheek before following the doctor.

"See you soon." I whispered as I made my way to the front anxious as to what was going on with my love.

A little while later...

I was impatient awaiting the news of my sweet wife and what's been going on with her. There were a few times that I almost barged in and demanded to speak with the doctor myself, but I stopped myself out of fear of disappointing Y/n and my other wives. Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself once again only to hear footsteps and the sound of a door opening. There stood my wife with a strange expression on her face and the old lady doctor holding her arm. She immediately looked at me and gave me a sweet smile. I gave her one in return and just nearly ran towards her.

"So is she alright doc?" I asked embracing my wife.

"She's not dying if that's what you're concerned with. She has chronic pain and that's the reason that your lovely wife here hasn't be herself lately." the doctor explained

"Is there anything that we can do to cure it?" I asked worried for my wife.

"Yes, whatever you've been giving her as decreased her pain a little but it won't cure it. However, I have perscribed a special herbal tea and an ointment to put on any specific areas of pain. In a few months to a year your wife should be relitivly normal." She told me and then turned her attention to Y/n and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Lord Tengen, I think I'm going to be fine so please don't worry too much." Y/n spoke almost as if she knew that I was about to complain about how long her recovery would take.

"Alright, love, I trust you." I told her as I gently caressed her lovely face.

"Thank you for everything." Y/n said as she gave the doctor a small bow of gratitude.

"Anytime dear, and if those remedies don't work please feel free to come back so we can try something else out." the doctor spoke. She then gave us the tea and ointment meant for Y/n and the two of us were on our way home.

"Want to ride on my back again or are you feeling well enough to walk?" I asked my wife

"The doctor gave me a cup of that tea and it made me feel well enough to walk myself, so I'm gonna try to do that as long as I can." She told me which made me admire her strength.

"You're so flashy you know that." I complimented her

"You tell me that all the time, but thank you Lord Tengen." she giggled

About more than halfway to our home her pain got too much for her to bear. So I quickly put her on my back as we walked the rest of the way back to our home and back to our worried wives. As soon as we walked through the door and put Y/n down, Suma, Makio, and Hina all flocked to Y/n. She explained what was wring and the remedies to cure her pain.

"Oh Y/n I'm so glad that we know what will help you now and we promise to take care of you." Hina reassured

"Of course we will!" Makio and Suma spoke simultaneously

"Yeah, don't worry Y/n we'll take good care of you." I spoke to her as she gave me that sweet smile that I just adore so much.

Thank you so much for reading! I apologize for taking so long with the request. My writers block was crazy!

Please feel free to like, comment. reblog, and request!

click here to see what I'll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except Y/n•

-L.W.L

[guniniz]

─ falling asleep on facetime with zb1. ့ ◌๋  ✿

# genre … fluffy scenario’s of how i think zb1 members would react to you falling asleep while on facetime, some are romantic relationships and some are just friendships !

# note … i havent written anything in a while so im sorry if its messy lol. also didn’t proofread it oops. was gonna do all the members in one part but i got tired so hanbin, jiwoong and hao it is !!

── 彡 [한빈] HANBIN

you and your best friend hanbin had been working together on a mix & max performance for studio choom.

you guys had spend the entire week working on the choreo trying to perfect every little detail

it was a very long day and it was starting to get late so the both of you decided to call it a day and grab a quick bite to eat before heading home.

conveniently hanbin picked out a spot that was almost directly in front of your house so you didnt have to walk home for that long. (though he insisted it was just cause he really enjoys the food there).

while waiting for you order you were lightly dozing off to which hanbin suggested to just get take out so you could head home but you insisted you “weren’t that tired”.

after finish your meal he dropped you off at home and was about to leave when you told him to call you on facetime so his walk home would be less lonely and to “protect him”.

he laughed at the silly remark but humored you and called you as soon as you closed the door.

as he was walking home you were getting ready for bed and talking about some random stuff. he was another 20 minutes away from his apartment when you got into bed.

hanbin told you you were going to fall asleep and to just hang up but you persisted you would stay on the phone until he got back home.

a few minutes passed and hanbin wanted to ask you something about the choreo but when he looked the screen he could see you had fallen asleep.

as he thought about you so heavily insisting you weren’t gonna fall asleep he laughed a bit to himself. he knew this would happen, he is your best friend after all.

he continued his walk without hanging up enjoying your “company” until he got home. as he got in to his apartment he whispered good night to you and finally hung up.

he couldnt help but to text you “what happened to protecting me?” after though.

── 彡 [지웅] JIWOONG

jiwoong and you became friends after both of you getting cast in a webdrama a few years back at the beginning of both of your careers.

recently the director of said webdrama reached out to you again to see if you were interested in staring in his new higher production drama.

to your surprise the director had asked jiwoong the exact same question and he also accepted the request.

as soon as you found out jiwoong had accepted too you texted him to set up a time to do some script reading over facetime

but due to both of you having busy schedules the only time left to do it was towards midnight.

jiwoong called as soon as you got back home from you busy day and you guys exchanged some small talk before you started reading the script.

as you were reading you could feel your eyes slowly closing no matter how hard you tried to concentrate, in the end you lost the battle against yourself and had fallen asleep.

a few more minutes go by and jiwoong finished reading his script, as he is about to ask you if you finished reading yet he notices your eyes are closed.

not knowing for sure he half whispers your name to see if you’d react. he couldn’t help but laugh a little when all he got in response was a small snore.

he slowly started to put away the script and clean his desk trying to be as quiet as possible as to not wake you up (he didnt think about the fact that he could’ve just muted his mic)

and even though he confirmed you were asleep and he could hang up he decided to stay on the call a bit longer looking at you peacefully sleeping.

as he was looking at you he started to think that maybe acting out romantic feelings towards you won’t be so hard.

── 彡 [장하오] ZHANGHAO

as you and hao were currently doing long distance you guys decided to watch a movie together online.

after some light bickering hao ended up getting to pick the movie you were gonna watch.

you took your phone with you to the kitchen to get some dinner ready while he did the same, you both made the same meal to feel a little more connected.

as you were getting settled on the couch hao was setting up the movie you guys were gonna watch on some site.

you guys were enjoying the first bit of the movie while eating your dinner. the movie was alright and didnt really pique your interest but it was your bf’s favorite movie and he was enjoying himself which honestly mattered more to you.

you finished your dinner and put your plate away to get even cozier on your couch, you snuggled into you blanket as you kept watching the movie. hao stealing a quick glance at you and smiling at how comfy and cute you looked.

you were pretty full from dinner and felt very comfortable in between your blankets on the couch and you could feel yourself slowly getting tired, trying your best to keep your eyes open.

you almost dozed off when suddenly you heard hao calling out to you.

“y/n dont fall asleep we’re almost at the best part of the movie!” he said as you quickly fluttered your eyes open. you were going to protest that you didn’t fall asleep but you knew there was no point.

you continued watching the movie and tried very hard to concentrate so you wouldn’t miss your boyfriend’s favorite part.

as it passed hao kept checking for your reaction to see how u were enjoying the movie so you gave him a smile and he went back to enjoying the rest of the movie.

as the ending credits started to roll hao asked you what you thought of the movie but when he looked at the direction of where he propped up his phone all he could see was you wrapped up in your blankets and laying down.

he grabbed his phone up and just looked at you smiling to himself. he had really missed seeing you like this. he always thought u were the cutest when you were sleepy.

before he hung up the call he took some screenshots to tease you with later, mentally adding this moment to the tally of how many times you’ve fallen asleep during a movie (and definitely not just cause he missed you so much and thought u looked adorable)

— pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

[foxeebit]

Touch - Jeong Yunho

pairing: jeong yunho x reader

genre: smut, pwp (just a tiny little bit of context)

word count 0.9k~

warnings: teasing, yunho’s hands (yup), a hint of unprotected sex (DONT DO IT), fingering, begging, dom!yunho if you squint, squirting, wet mess, yunho-has-a-big-dick-and-he-knows-it, not proof read.

summary: friends don’t touch each other like yunho touches you…

A/N: im just completely obsessed with yunho and this came out of nowhere. please forgive grammar errors etc bc i didn’t check anything, these are just filthy thoughts of a sunday afternoon.

he’s the type of person to become friends with you by being the funniest guy in the room. laughing with him feels like the easiest thing in the world and he gets to win your trust by being extremely reliable. he’s always there for you either you’re in need of him or not, he always knows what you need and when you need it.

he would gradually get you comfortable with physical affection to the point he can’t keep his hands off of you anymore. he’s always running his fingers through your neck, hugging you from behind and staying there with his arms wrapped around you whilst caressing your tummy, keeping a hand on you thigh when he’s driving... his hands are everywhere all the time.

it doesn’t matter where you are, if you’re alone watching a movie, you’ll feel his hands running up and down your arm giving you chills from his soft touch, or if you’re out with your group of friends, he’ll keep his fingers running through your hand, caressing and intertwining them from time to time to keep your hands warm (even though it’s just because he loves to see how small your hands look when holding his own).

he’s trained you so well to accept his touches that you don’t even bother to resist or complain when he makes the first move to touch you where he actually wanted. so when you’re sitting between his thighs on the couch reading on your kindle while he’s playing fortnite, he loses another match and can’t help but compensate his frustration by sliding his hands under your oversized shirt and caress your tits covering them with his huge hands.

“do you mind?” his fingers starts to pinch your nipples sending a clear sign to your core when he decides to whisper in a soft deep voice in your ear. “i can make you feel so good, baby.” he runs kisses through your neck already knowing your most sensitive.

it keeps getting harder and harder to breathe when he runs down one of his hands to rest on top of your loose cotton shorts. “please…” your heavy breaths turn into small whines waiting for whatever he has planned for you.

“tell me what do you want and i’ll give it to you” he feels you hips moving towards his hands, striving for any sort of contact. “you so horny you can’t even speak? i can’t wait to see how wet my baby’s pussy is for me” his words only made you more needy, resting your head on his chest, you look up to him ready to beg.

“i need your hands on my pussy, please make my cum i can’t take it anymore. you’ve been teasing me for so long, it’s not fair.” you see him smirk and feel his hands starting to run circles on your clit over your shorts, you felt immediate relief but it isn’t enough.

you grabbed his hands and guided it inside your shorts ands panties, finally reaching your wet folds making you moan softly feeling the tips of his fingers going up and down superficially on your core. “my girl is so needy for me. is that what you wanted to to every time i touched your?” your moans keeps getting louder whilst he spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. “s-stop torturing me. just one finger, please”

“how many times have you touched yourself thinking of me after we hung out? i bet i have already fucked you so many times in your dirty mind, i know in mine i have.” tears starts to roll down your face from the teasing and you feel your hole clenching around nothing waiting to be filled up.

you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to ignore the bulge you can feel pressing your butt. “when you started to keep your hands resting on my thighs frequently, i stopped wearing panties under my dresses hoping you would make me cum in front of everyone without them noticing”

you feel his middle finger entering your cunt harshly, going deep at his first thrust and you moan his name loudly in response. “you horny little whore didn’t even worry about getting caught. argh, your cunt is so tight, baby. i’m gonna need to stretch you well so you can take my big cock” you hips keep moving to follow his fingers when he inserts another finger and makes sure to keep his palm aligned to you rub your clit on every thrust. “yuyu, please… i need to cum” becoming a whining mess, you have no control over your thoughts anymore, all you can think of is how deep his fingers are inside your pussy and how good they’re making you feel. “that’s okay, come for me my love” he take his other hand off your nipples and start to rub circles around your clit whilst thrusting your cunt even harder, moving his tips to reach your spot. you were already screaming when your orgasm comes, making you squirt all over his fingers and the couch.

he keeps playing with your cunt working you through your high until you stop his hand. “i can’t, too sensitive” he laughs softly, gives you a kiss on your left temple and put your hands under your thighs to push you up just enough to take off your shorts and pull his thick cock out his joggers. you feel the tip of his dick brushing through your swollen folds collecting your juices, when he finally slid inside you in a harsh thrust making you to moan at the sensation. “i said i was stretching you for me, didn’t i?”

[misasimagines]

dating hcs / reader x Ren (Tokyo Debunker)

included characters: all about Ren (much like the rest of my blog sometimes...)

rating: SFW, nothing NSFW here I prommy.

warnings: he's just a menace. Only thing assumed about the reader is that you are smaller than him in one bullet point. These are also much more casual and not as polished as I try to make my normal fics so sorry if that bothers you!

I can't promise there won't maybe eventually be a part 2 or a NSFW version of this. genuinely someone save me please im being held hostage in my own brain.

Level 10 clinger but he won't admit it. He's just like Where are you going :/ when you get up and it's like bro I've been here 4 hours? And he's like …. whatever you can leave …. And that obviously means he does not want you to leave.

But it's somewhat okay! Because he actually gives really good hugs. Just only to you, everyone else gets the stiffest and most uncomfortable hugs that result in him shoving them away and groaning and complaining about harassment. With you, you get a nice snuggly hug and he groans and complains if you try to wiggle out too soon. give and take.

You can go make yourself some ramen and he's like hanging off you, arms wrapped around your waist, resting his chin on your head or shoulder like, are you making me ramen too? And you give in because he's being uncommonly cute. And then he's immediately giving demands like don't cook it too long and it gets mushy, that's gross, and don't add the seasoning packet on top like that because it gets all clumpy and gross like BOY do you want your ramen cooked for you OR NOT? No matter how you make it, he's going to make a face and be like “This is trash…no I'll eat it…it's whatever…” it's not trash, he's very touched, he's just insufferable.

If you're sleeping in the same bed as him and get up in the morning before he does, there is a non-zero (and by non zero I mean incredibly high) chance he's just grabbing you around the waist, pulling you back down, and complaining that it's too early. Okay? I have a job??? He will just hold you tightly and whine at you that he was warm and comfortable and you can't just leave him, he doesn't sleep as well without you. He's too tired to really realize what he's saying and will deny this later, instead being like ugh whatever you take up too much room in my bed, you're lucky I sacrifice so much for you… (wait don't go back to your room tonight, take me with you-)

On sleeping, you probably go in thinking that sharing a bed with him will be just sleeping on opposite sides as separate as possible. Not true. He's the big spoon and you are no different from a body pillow now the way he's laying half on top of you. If it's too hot though, then yeah, get out of his bed….I mean don't really, he'll complain if you leave, but he's sprawled out and doesn't want you to touch him at all.

Really doesn't want to go on dates. He's like we can just stay in, right? ….watch a movie and play games…. going out sucks and it's expensive and we could run into people we know and they'd ruin it anyway… but when there's a new movie that he wants to see, he's like we Have To Go. We Have To. But when it was YOUR ice cream shop he's like….it's too cold out to get ice cream why do you want to go there?? Just buy a popsicle at the convenience store or smth….

He will give in and do things you want, though. You just have to be clear with him that it should be fair and equal, where you go and when. You stay in with him one day, he goes out with you another. Equality. This doesn't stop him from complaining. He's true to himself there.

Really though he's just embarrassed about going out and being perceived as Guy Who Goes On Dates because that's just. Too much. So if he's ever really apprehensive, he's probably just overthinking and overstimulated by it and you should probably just accept it's a stay at home night.

Like if someone starts poking fun at him for being your boyfriend or something he's like instantly kind of freaked out and bothered. Not because he doesn't want to be your boyfriend but because having it pointed out and being a part of his identity just kind of scares him. He'll be off and probably a bit avoidant for a few hours at least because of this.

He DOES use you for excuses though. Haru walks in and Ren's like nope can't do anything today look, they're laying on top of me, can't move, would ruin their day, you don't want to ruin their day right? If you want them to suffer, you can make me leave and do work but that's on you then. And of course Haru is like 😭 I could never do damage to your lovely partner 😭 

Your own participation doesn't matter here. You could be standing up and the second Ren hears Haru's footsteps, he's yanking you down on top of him so he can make that excuse. 

As awful and selfish as he is, he can be sweet, he just can't have it acknowledged. He'll bring you stuff from the store if he thinks/knows you like it and he'll pick out movies you'd like and he would 100% follow you around in a mmo he made you start and just murder all the enemies for you so you can progress easily. + He's throwing high level gear your way because he doesn't need it and he would grind for the cute pet you wanted so he can give it to you.

If you want to vent and complain and bitch, he's your man. He's like yeah fuck that guy (never met that guy in his life) he sucks. He's your biggest supporter for being a hater. If you're like I hate this person - when he meets them? He hates this person too. They don't have a chance here.

Coworker or peer who's mean to you? He meets them and is immediately like [disgusted face] I see what you mean. And the coworker is like??? See what??? Bro???? And he's mean! He's not nice to them. He's not actively insulting them, but whenever they talk he's making a face and sighing like he's never been so disgusted before.

He also holds grudges for you. Someone bumps into you in public and doesn't apologize? Permanent spot on his shit list. Friend argument that makes you upset or, even worse, cry? That friend is dead to him and he will not forgive them on your behalf. Doesn't matter if you don't care or you forgive them, he is not letting it go.

Will put on actually scary horror movies to watch so when it's time for you to go home/send him home, you're like……um I don't want to be alone, I'm scared. And then he can be like ugggh fine I guess I can stay, you're so needy (LETS FUCKING GOOOO)

Doesn't really do pet names, but if you call him a pet name like babe, honey, sweetie, etc he's blushing and he'll basically do anything you want because he doesn't know how to Think right now.

If you're upset about something, he's not great at advice or comforting words, but he'll cuddle you and let you relax and he won't complain about it. He'll even go pick up a comfort meal for you or make you some tea/coffee/etc. He'll be like, You like this movie right? We can watch it. - even though you know, for a fact, he cannot stand that movie. 

He'll just hold you and pet your head and listen and stay quiet for once.

Mostly, he doesn't like attention being brought to any of the sweet or generous things he does, and he has to ruin most of his own shows of affection by being selfish or whiney. It doesn't mean that he didn't have good intentions when he did the nice act, he just can't have them like super focused on because he gets embarrassed. Say thank you or give him a little kiss on the cheek and don't gush about it and he'll be okay. Maybe a little blushy but okay.

Also he's a drama queen. I don't think I even need to elaborate on this because it's so evident but he just reacts intensely to some things even if he tries really hard to be Too Cool to look more than just annoyed. Good Luck Fellow Soldiers.

Actually please pull the most basic “jump out and scare him” pranks because he screams every time and it's hilarious and he hates it but it's payback for all the bad horror movies.

Also payback because he'd let you borrow his hoodies, and the sleeves would be too long for you, and when you're not paying attention, he'd pull the loose ends behind your back and tie them together and then pull the hood over your face so you're trapped and can't see. This is because he is evil. And he does it whenever he thinks you've forgotten that he does this, and even if you remember and fight back, it's a losing battle. He deserves all the terrible things that happen to him 🫡

He looks so smug when he does this and mostly just uses it for leverage to make you stay with him longer than you planned to or if you were being bratty or something. 

If you Wise up and try to avoid this, he'll just come up with new methods. He's stubborn and you're basically challenging him so… best of luck, soldier 🫡

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui, mentions of past prostituion (not dottore or reader), implication of reader being slapped and getting hurt (not badly)

notes: i dont think u guys understand how much fun im having introducing the segments sobs. adhufsdiuf i might make a little reference sheet for them and attach it to masterlist if u guys want

JOY

Mutiny. 

He had been dealing with mutiny for five years. He should have expected that the Iota segment wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. He should have sewn it shut. In a matter of a week, every single one of the segments knew that their red thread had finally appeared. In a matter of a month, every single one of the segments had abandoned their projects to return to Dottore’s estate in Snezhnaya and Dottore was fed up. 

This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He knew his segments because they were him, and he knew that as soon as they found out, they would be on their way back to Snezhnaya to find out if it was true for themselves. He had half a mind to deactivate every single one of them but he figured that even if he did that and recreated them, it would just be the same issue all over again and a massive waste of resources because the segments would not change--it was why they were created, to preserve his mentality at different years.

It did not take long for the older segments to put together what Dottore was planning on doing with the red thread and their soulmate and they were not happy about it. 

Dottore didn’t think he had a single day for himself in the past five years. The segments were relentless, offering to help with his research. Two sets of eyes are better than one, they would say, but Dottore knew they were full of shit. Dottore had always valued his independence highly, even as a child. There was no way that they all suddenly wanted to work with him at any given moment after years of convincing him that they were perfectly capable of running research without his supervision. They were using it as an excuse to keep an eye on him, to make sure that he didn’t make any progress on figuring out how to sever the thread, and Dottore was livid over it. 

Every day, a different segment was waiting for him at his lab or in the library, pressing him to work on a variety of different projects--none being research on the red thread, of course. And to Dottore’s absolute frustration, his segments were as manipulative and intelligent as him, so whenever he tried to brush them off to do as he pleased, he was met with snide comments about so much for not letting their soulmate get in the way of their research. 

He had backed himself into a corner, and it was no one’s fault but his own. 

Dottore sighed as he flipped through one of Epsilon’s reports. 

Ley line outcrops sprouting up more often in Avidya forest.

Possible roots in Dragonspine breaking the surface? Does Irminsul grow upside down? 

Upside down, Dottore pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to think. Could it be growing in the Abyss, and the roots are traveling up through the earth past the surface? 

How would that even work? Could the Abyss sustain life? Does the Irminsul tree even count as life? 

One of his hands slid down his face, rubbing at his mouth as he tried to piece together the puzzle laid out before him. He would have to talk to the Balladeer. The Sixth was the one that Pierro frequently sent on missions down in the Abyss, if anyone knew more about it, it would be him… or Pierro himself, but Dottore did not necessarily want to go out of his way to talk to Pierro because it usually ended in him being sent on another mission.

“Let us go looking for them.” 

It was Rho again, this time, standing at the door to Dottore’s lab. He exhaled, dragging his gaze up from the papers to the segment. Once he was acknowledged, Rho stepped into the room and Dottore raised his eyebrows waiting for him to continue. Rho looked pointedly at Dottore’s thumb, Dottore just shook his head once he realized what Rho was referring to, turning around to prepare a burner. 

“You would deny the younger segments time with our soulmate? Deny them the experience of actually knowing their soulmate while they are the same age?” Rho pressed, drawing closer to Dottore. Dottore looked at Rho over his shoulder, warning him: don’t you dare come closer. Rho pressed his lips together, stopping midstep. “It’s been five years since the thread appeared, they are already five years older than Kappa. They’re the same age as Iota. Soon they’ll be older than him, and Gamma, you know how Gamma-”

“There is no way to find them,” Dottore dismissed. “Get back to work.”

“Iota has been hysterical for days, Gamma is so anxious that he can barely focus on his research. Neither of them had ever given up hope that our soulmate would appear and you’re going to refuse-”

“How do you intend for me to find them?” Dottore was getting irritated. Never had he dealt with so much insubordination from his segments until this cursed red thread had shown up. “Follow the string? We both know that’s not possible. There will be no clues for another five years, at least, and ten years is more likely.”

Rho was frustrated, Dottore could tell from the way the segment was clenching and unclenching his jaw rapidly. Dottore couldn’t bring himself to care because quite frankly, he was frustrated. He could feel the emotions of each segment, of course he knew Gamma was anxious, of course he knew Iota was hysterical. He could feel his anxiety, he could feel his hysteria. He could feel Zeta’s hope and Theta’s rage. He could feel Delta’s stress and Epsilon’s curiosity. He could feel Lambda’s indifference and he could feel every single one of his own emotions so intensely that he wanted to rip out his own hair. 

He was not used to it. Even after five years, he was not used to it. He had gone centuries feeling little to nothing and he felt overwhelmed--he couldn’t figure out how to deal with this in an efficient manner and over the past week, it just seemed to be getting worse.

“We can go in the general direction,” Rho finally responded and Dottore only shook his head, closing his eyes. 

He felt tired, he felt so tired all of a sudden and he wasn’t sure why--he had never felt so tired so abruptly before. He wondered if the whole situation was finally starting to set in, five years later. None of them had the nerve to confront him about this before now. 

“Good luck with that,” Dottore said dryly, “All of Teyvat is south of us, you’ll have six whole nations to search.”

“You could help,” Rho snapped, Dottore could see his segment’s temper waning, and he could feel his own thinning. “Instead of trying to…”

He thought maybe it was more than just being tired over the situation. 

He exhaled carefully, fingers pressing hard into the cool metal table beneath his hand. His body felt exhausted, as if he had been forced into spars with the Captain again. His chest felt heavy and his mind felt sluggish, and it was so sudden. If Dottore didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought one of his segments had the audacity to try to drug him.

Rho was still talking, but Dottore was now distracted, trying to figure out what was wrong with himself before Rho could take advantage of the apparent weakness to push him even more. His gaze drifted up to the vents of his lab, filtering the air from some of the more dangerous chemicals that he worked with in his experiments. 

Had they failed? 

No, Rho would be feeling it as well. 

Unless it was only affecting him because he’s been in the room longer. 

Even then, Dottore’s body was created to withstand what would take down the average human’s body. Chemicals should not be enough to make him feel like this. It had to be something else.

It had to be something else. 

But what?

Dottore didn’t know and the longer he dwelled on the issue, the more his body betrayed him. Rho was beginning to realize something was wrong, he could tell from the way his voice was becoming slower, from the way his brows were furrowing as he observed Dottore. 

What was-

The thread. Dottore’s gaze drifted down to his thumb as the thread vibrated--once, twice, three times, the daily goodnight that he had become familiar with. Every night, without fail, once the sun began to fall, his soulmate would flick the thread, he had become accustomed to it in a way that he shouldn’t have. His gaze drew to the side, to the window of his lab where the sun began to set over the snowy hills in the distance. 

He hadn’t realized it had gotten so late. 

“It’s been five years since the thread appeared,” Rho had reminded him. 

Five years. His soulmate would have turned ten years old recently. 

The third stage: emotions, pains, they would be shared between the two soulmates—begins once both soulmates have reached the age of ten.

At once, all of the puzzle pieces joined together before his eyes--the tiredness, the influx of emotions that did not belong to him or one of his segments, the odd, momentary pains that would prick his hands and knees. They were not his emotions or his pain. It was not his fatigue. 

It was his soulmate’s.

Dottore was many things--a scholar and a Harbinger, but above all, he was a fool and suddenly, a very, very mortal one at that. 

Some people thought it romantic that Celestia prevented soulmates from finding one another before their fated meeting. Dottore thought it was absurd—especially because he had to deal with… this.

The Iota segment was sobbing, curled in on himself on the ground, babbling about how their string was gone and their soulmate was dead. Dottore wondered if he should be embarrassed, staring at the younger version of himself, unimpressed and unmoved by the outburst, arms crossed at his chest as people in the city began to look their way--never for too long, because they knew exactly what the symbols that adorned their cloaks meant, but long enough that it was beginning to tickle his nerves.

The Delta and Gamma segments were trying to calm him down, telling him that no, their soulmate was still alive and yes, the thread was still there--Iota just couldn’t see it because it disappeared from his view. Celestia’s oh so convenient way of stopping soulmates from tracking each other down before they were meant to meet each other. 

Dottore shook his head, exasperated when all attempts at soothing Iota failed. This was exactly why he didn’t like bringing his segments out with him, it always became some sort of project. Dottore’s lips twisted into a frown as he contemplated just leaving them to continue further into the city, in the direction of the old building that was rumored to be the base of the new black market network spreading throughout the Snezhnayan capital, encroaching on the territory of the organization that had been working with the aristocrats and the Fatui for decades to keep the economy stable.

Dottore was the one sent to shut it down before it got out of hand, sent to defend their ‘partners’... and perhaps get a few important figures in their debt. He hadn’t necessarily wanted to go but he figured while he was out, he could get Gamma the supplies he had been looking for before he had started having a meltdown over their soulmate, but once Iota found out that Gamma was joining him, Iota insisted on coming along… and since Iota was tagging along, Delta demanded on coming too, not one to let the ten-year-old segment out of his sight for long. 

Dottore supposed it was for the best, he could leave the other two to handle the outburst while he went to shut down the new competition. 

The wind was brisk against his skin as he made his way down the dirt roads, small vendors lined the streets, their stands dusted with snow, the shop owners bundled beneath heavy cloaks and furs. None of them dared to try to sell their products to him--instead, he only received wary glances and hushed whispers as he passed by. 

The people of Snezhnaya did not trust the Fatui. They had no love left for the Tsaritsa and her followers, placing all of their faith in the old aristocratic families of their motherland instead. The noble families kept the coffers full and homes warm in the dead of winter where their Archon had abandoned them and the Fatui cared for naught but their own goals and ambitions. 

There was some truth behind their reasoning, Dottore acknowledged as he turned down the last side street. The Tsaritsa did abandon her people to prepare for the war against Celestia, even if it was for their own good in the long run, and the Fatui did only really care for their own goals… or at least Dottore did. Capitano, Arlecchino, Pulcinella and Signora, they all had varying degrees of sympathy for the common folk but it didn’t matter because when it came down to it, they would always put the downfall of the gods first. 

And that disconnect would always keep the aristocrats a level above the Fatui when it comes to good relations with the civilians. It was none of Dottore’s business, he didn’t handle politics--that was up to Pulcinella to try to fix--but it was beginning to affect his research. His funding was decreasing rapidly, and between that and dealing with his segments and the influx of emotions from his soulmate, Dottore was at his wits end.

His soulmate was an anxious little thing. He had learned how to differentiate between which emotions were coming from his segments and which were coming from them. There wasn’t much he felt on their end besides nervousness and tiredness at night and as frustrating as it was, he could not close off their emotions like he could with his segments. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the waves of drowsiness and apprehension, they always managed to trounce him at the most inopportune times. 

But it was midday now, so he shouldn’t be at risk of any unwelcome sensations. He figured it was the best time to confront their new enemies.

Dottore exhaled as he finally reached the old building—it was worn down, the wood of the door split down the middle. He was not sure what he was expecting but it was not this.

He frowned as he pushed the door open, bracing himself for a group of enemies inside only to find an empty, unfurnished room. His frown deepened, gaze darting around as he tried to figure out if this was some sort of trap or if the place had been abandoned… and if it had been abandoned, that means the Fatui had a rat to sniff out. 

… But the place didn’t seem to be abandoned. In fact, it looked as if someone was living there. Water was boiling on a stove in the corner of the room, there was a half-eaten meal on a dingy kitchen table, and on the opposite side of the room, there was a bed with half-made sheets.

He wondered if the location he was given was wrong because this place appeared to be a refuge for a homeless person. 

There was a door at the end of the room with a dim light glowing from beneath and Dottore decided he better at least try to get some answers as to the actual location of the base before heading out, lest he deal with the Jester’s displeasure again. 

A thin layer of snow coated parts of the hardwood floor, having trespassed through the split roof above, crunching beneath his boot as he approached the door. He didn’t waste a second when he got to the door, pushing it open hard—perhaps too hard, considering it nearly came off the hinges as it slammed into the wall.

Dottore’s eyes narrowed on the only figure in the room. A young man, no older than nineteen or twenty, leaped to his feet, violet eyes unfocused and wild at Dottore’s arrival. He was tall and thin, too thin, dark hair poorly kempt. He would have brushed him off as another homeless citizen of Snezhnaya, to be dead as soon as the first blizzard of the winter hit… but Dottore hesitated, noting the inked quill in his hand, and the parchment on the desk he was sitting at.

Two long strides and Dottore was at the desk, snatching the parchment before the man could react. His eyes scanned the words rapidly, reading the list of requested goods, and it didn’t take long for him to put together what was happening.

He raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, “Where are the rest of your men?”

The man did not respond.

“I advise you to answer my question lest you find yourself without your head,” Dottore said dryly, placing the parchment back down and looking up at the man, who he could only assume was running the competing market.

“There are no men.” The response was clipped and cold, Dottore’s eyes trailed down to where jagged nails were digging into his palms—he was scared, trying to hide it. Good. “Only me.”

“Only you?” Dottore asked, amused. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you believe it,” the man retorted.

“If you care about your life, you’ll care about what I believe,” Dottore countered, watching the way the man stiffened at his words. 

“Does it matter what you believe, or if I care about my life?” the man asked, voice quickly. “Or will I die anyway?”

Dottore smiled thinly, “I haven’t decided yet.”

The man looked frustrated. Dottore was unbothered, waiting for him to speak--the following silence was cold, tense. Dottore liked to believe he was a patient man but he was also a man who did not like his time being wasted. 

One man causing such a ruckus amongst their partners… he considered the possibility of it actually being true. He didn’t think there was any chance of it, logically. The original organization has controlled Snezhnaya’s economy for centuries now--it was well embedded in society, the aristocrats depended on it, the civilians depended on it, the Fatui depended on it. 

One man-

“The people aren’t as fond of the aristocrats as everybody thinks. They’re just the only option when the Fatui is the alternative,” the man finally said, “and it doesn’t matter what organization is running the market, when it comes down to it, the people keep the economy alive. The Triglav have been decreasing the quality of their products--watering down alcohol, reducing portions of produce in the markets--they thought the people would remain ignorant to it.”

Dottore mulled over his words, as far as he was aware, the Harbingers were also ignorant to the Triglav fiddling with the economy and goods. He wondered if the aristocrats were aware, working with them to shave some extra profits off the civilians. More irritated, he wondered if this was part of the reason why his funding was being affected.

“Except they realized,” Dottore mused, eyeing the man, trying to figure out how he became involved with it.

“Except I realized,” the man corrected sharply, giving Dottore another wary glance before he sat back at his desk. “I was the one that noticed what they were doing. I was raised on the streets of Novotroizov, just outside the capital, but I spent most of my time here-”

“I don’t care for your life story,” Dottore said. “Get to the point.”

The man smiled but it did not reach his eyes. “I had connections here in the city, it was not hard to siphon off unhappy contractors from the Triglav once they knew that they were being swindled by them and their families were suffering as a consequence.”

Dottore hummed to himself, “And where did you learn to read? Write? Understand economics?” he asked doubtfully, gaze drawing over the man as he dabbed the tip of his quill back into the dark ink.

The man hesitated, quill hovering over the parchment for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I worked at one of the higher-end red houses in the city, one that the aristocrats and the elites of the Triglav enjoyed to frequent. They run their mouths without care as to who might be listening. I learned much from them.”

Dottore almost smiled. Almost. The irony of the Triglav being the one to create their own competition was just a bit amusing to him. He rarely dealt with their elites personally but they were very quickly becoming a hindrance to his research and all hindrances must be dealt with.

Must be dealt with. Dottore looked at the man with a new light, an idea forming in the back of his head. The Ninth and Eleventh spots were now free, and so long as the Triglav controlled the economy, the Fatui’s money would at least partially be at the whims of the aristocrats that work with them and the organization's elites as the Fatui did not have their own bank…

“Well, as I see it, there are two options, I-” Dottore paused suddenly, a stinging feeling sharp across his cheek, as if he had been slapped, and a jolt of shock. Or, not him, his soulmate, he realized, gaze darting down to the thread on his thumb, because the man hadn’t moved from his desk, his knuckles white around the wood as he waited for the ultimatum. He forced himself to continue, voice tight, trying to mask the rising anger, “I can kill you, resolving this issue all at once, or we could try to find some use for you in our ranks.”

They were slapped, Dottore could feel echoes of the stinging sensation across his cheek, the shock that had run through his soulmate’s body, he could still feel the shock, now riddled with distress. Ten years old, he could barely constrain the rage pooling in his gut, he could barely control the way his mind brought him back to his own childhood with his parents and the unpleasant adults living in the village, who is slapping a ten year old? And with that much force? 

He could barely focus on the situation at hand--luckily, the man was still sitting in front of him, he hadn’t moved or spoken, suspicious of the options he was given, but Dottore needed to calm himself before he did start speaking so he could respond properly. 

But he couldn’t, and he felt so, so human because of it, vulnerable to emotions that were supposed to have been killed off a long time ago. He hated it. He hated it so much, his entire life--everything that he had built for himself felt as if it were crumbling. All of those years of teaching himself how to control each and every little emotion, all of those years learning how to seal away the unwelcome ones and channel them into something that was easier for him to process, they were wasted because the gods finally decided to curse him with this damned thread.

And then he felt it--an odd, foreign emotion curling in the depths of his stomach, something that was not of his own nor of his segments, something he hadn’t felt since the day he was chased out of his village. 

Fear. Fear coming from his soulmate. Was it because of whatever was going on where they were? Or could they feel his anger and it was scaring them?

Dottore didn’t know, and he hated not knowing, but he hated even more the fact that he somehow cared enough that it made him calm down when he hadn’t been able to make himself calm down on his own. 

“You don’t even know my name,” the man accused, but his tone was more hesitant, considering Dottore’s offer. Dottore forced his attention back to him, despite the way his thoughts lingered on the phantom pains against his cheek. “I don’t have a vision, I don’t-”

“Yes,” Dottore agreed. “I did not ask because I do not care to learn it--if your existence demonstrates itself to be useful to us, you will be given a new identity and a role to play in the coming war, you will have to leave your name, family and companions behind to take up the mantle… though I doubt that will be difficult for someone like you. Whether or not you have a vision is inconsequential--again, should you prove yourself, you’ll be given an even more potent version of one, one that does not have shackles of Celestia attached to it.”

There it was, Dottore thought to himself, letting out a huff of amusement once he caught the greed flash through the man’s expression. Hooked, the prospect of power would seduce even the most virtuous man, and he knew as soon as he stepped into this room that the man before him was no man of honor. 

“How will I know if I’ve proven myself?” the man asked.

“You will know,” Dottore said dismissively, turning on his heel to leave before another unexpected bout of emotion or pain swept over him. “Do remember who got you to your position, if this works out. I will need considerable funding for my research… and don’t bother trying to run, we will find you.”

“If everything has been discussed, I’ve had quite enough of tonight’s theatrics,” Pierro’s voice was cold and sharp as he rose to his feet, preparing to dismiss the Harbingers from their meeting.

Dottore waited, eyes drawing across the eight other Harbingers, waiting to see if any of them would speak up. The Balladeer was livid, having spent the majority of the meeting arguing with the Marionette and the Knave, with the Knave’s pet following along making disparaging comments. None of the rest of the Harbingers appeared to intend on saying anything, so just as Pierro was about to dismiss them, Dottore cleared his throat.

At once, all sets of eyes turned in his direction, stares with varying degrees of annoyance trained directly on him. Dottore only smiled thinly, “I would like to discuss an option for the empty seats… or one of them, at least.”

“Perhaps you’ve become slow of mind in your old age,” Scaramouche said sharply. Dottore raised his eyebrows beneath his mask, not even bothering to call out the hypocrisy. “We discussed this for nearly an hour already and you didn’t bother to give input once.”

“I had no interest in interrupting squabbling children,” Dottore replied dryly, turning his gaze back to Pierro, who looked exhausted as he sat back down at the head of the table.

“Speak, Dottore. How faired the mission against the organization usurping the Triglav?” 

“There was no organization,” Dottore said. “Only one man. I believe it to be prudent that we find a spot for him amongst our ranks. Perhaps not as a Harbinger… yet, but a chance to at least prove his worth.”

“One man?” Sandrone questioned, tone laced with disbelief.

“I find it hard to believe as well,” Pulcinella agreed, dark eyes piercing into Dottore. Dottore met his gaze, undeterred, annoyance tugged at his stomach--he hated being doubted. 

“I can assure you, mayor, that I would not waste our time with dubious information,” Dottore drawled, fingers tapping against the wood of the table. 

“I oversee the nation for our esteemed organization. I believe I would know-”

“Did you know that the Triglav were decreasing the quality of Snezhnayan and foreign products to make more of a profit off of the common folk?” Dottore interrupted, lips flat as his amusement dwindled. Pulcinella did not respond, and he took that as answer enough. “I see, so you do not know everything about the nation, do you, mayor?” 

“Make your point, Dottore, this meeting has lasted too long already. I have other matters to attend to,” Pierro said. Dottore was glad his eyes were hidden beneath the mask. 

“The man undermining the Triglav is an orphan, homeless, making by on nothing but connections he formed on the streets. Could you imagine what he would be capable of with resources to back him?” Dottore pressed. “We do not have the support of the people, we do not have an economy backing us, the aristocrats and the Triglav are in bed with one another, working together to sabotage us. It’s only a matter of time before this situation spirals into civil war, and Her Majesty is very much against that.”

“And you think one man will solve all of our issues?” Arlecchino asked, but she didn’t sound as doubtful as much as she did curious, watching Dottore carefully as she waited for him to respond.

He considered her words. It would be bold of him to claim that it would, as he had no reason to believe that this man would solve all of the internal issues that the Fatui were facing. He was promising, yes, but promise was just that--promise. Dottore had watched even the most promising minds in the Akademiya fall to ruin before they could make something great of themselves. 

But if they didn’t think he was confident in this, it would be shut down. And any chance at increased funding for his research would be shut down along with it, which is what it boiled down to for him at its core. He needed more funding. 

“I think he can solve a significant amount. The mayor clearly cannot handle internal affairs on his own. He doesn’t even know half of what’s going on right beneath his nose. The Triglav have been slighting the people of their goods and us of our money. Funding has been decreased-”

“Ah, of course,” Dottore’s eye twitched at the interruption, not even bothering to look at Scaramouche as he readied himself to respond to yet another snide comment from the Sixth. “That’s what it comes down to, your funding. How…”

Pain. Blinding pain shooting up through his hands and forearms, as if a million jagged rocks were digging into his palm and tearing through the flesh, as if he had taken a particularly bad fall and braced himself with his arms, drowning out the rest of the Balladeer’s comment. Were he a lesser man, he would have hissed at the sudden pain, maybe even flinched. Dottore was no lesser man, and he could not afford to give any sort of hint about the red thread tied around his thumb to the vultures perched around him who would take advantage of the weakness at any given moment. 

Instead, he inhaled, forcing himself to continue, annoyance becoming more severe with each passing day as this was now the second time he was interrupted during an important meeting because of his soulmate. 

“Yes,” Dottore said sharply. “Perhaps with better funding, we could make you into something greater than just a mere puppet. Your durability will only be of use for so long, and what will happen to you then? I can see the cracks already. You are not indestructible, Scaramouche.”

Scaramouche did not respond, and Dottore took the opportunity to continue.

“He is a commoner, an orphan, with enough connections throughout the people of Snezhnaya to displace the Triglav without any resources beyond his own mind and those connections,” Dottore continued. “You cannot convince me you do not see the potential this could bring us--nigh-complete autonomy from the Triglav and a wedge between the aristocrats and the people.”

“The consequences for if it fails…” Pulcinella trailed off. “We could be facing civil war far sooner than we’re ready for. The Triglav will not take kindly to us trying to unseat their monopoly… the aristocrats even less so.”

“We will win if it comes to war,” Arlecchino said. “What are they going to do, throw their gold coins at us?”

“No, they will throw our people at us,” Pulcinella responded coldly. “It’s not a matter of winning the war that’s the issue. Our military is dominant, in comparison to their forces. The issue is minimizing civilian casualties, which will not be possible without proper preparation. That could take years, decades. Her Majesty will not want us to antagonize while the people are at risk.”

“I will not go another year, much less decades, without proper funding,” Dottore said, poison dripping from his voice as he spoke. “We have been handed the opportunity to finally become the dominant power in Snezhnaya on a silver platter. We would be fools not to make the most of it. I am no fool, Pulcinella.”

“And if it fails?” The Captain spoke up for the first time, voice low. “Pulcinella is right, we cannot afford the backlash that this failure might bring us.”

“If it fails,” Dottore said tensely, “then I will kill him before it can be traced back to us.”

“Very well,” Pierro said after a moment of silence. “Bring him in, if he proves himself, we will consider replacing one of the two empty seats.”

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Dottore’s eye twitched, gaze drawing from the parchment in front of him to the countertops across the room, where the leaky faucet dripped to the metal of the basin incessantly. He inhaled sharply as he forced himself to look back at the report, trying to figure out what exactly Theta was trying to get at with the conclusions of his residue research.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Dottore exhaled through his nose, lips pressed together thinly as his gaze drew back to the faucet. Even in his rare moments of peace, where his segments were busy or asleep, the universe somehow found a way to disrupt him. 

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Dottore rose to his feet suddenly, the metal legs of the chair he was sitting on scraping against the ground loudly as he grabbed the report and left his lab, intent on finishing the reading back in his own room. It was getting late anyway, the moon was rising, and it was only a matter of time before his little soulmate made their way to bed and forced their own fatigue onto him.

He made his way down the dark halls quietly--as if on cue, he felt those familiar tugs, three, each with half a second between them. Goodnight, his soulmate was telling him, and he only shook his head, glancing down once before turning his gaze back ahead. 

He would have to figure out how exactly he would integrate the boy from the city into the organization, and get him the resources he needed to actually be able to do something more than siphon off contractors of the Triglav. He didn’t know how though--it would have to be subtle so as to not draw the attention of their enemies until they were in the position to actually challenge them. If they found out that the Fatui were working under their noses to mess with the economy that the Triglav had built, they’d have a lot more issues to deal with than they’d like. 

Unfortunately, Dottore was never good at subtlety. 

If it were up to him, he’d simply remove the issue, just as he nullified extraneous variables whenever they rose to issue during his experiments. With the aristocrats and the Triglav out of the way, the Fatui could do as they pleased, Dottore could do as he pleased without all of the restrictions placed on him by the Jester… but alas, the Tsaritsa did not wish to draw the ire of her people any more than she already had, much to his displeasure.

Would one man be the change they needed to get the upper hand over the Triglav and the aristocrats? Dottore didn’t know and he despised not knowing, he hated uncertainty. He was a methodological man, a calculated one--he set plans in motion and saw them through to the end. He was able to map out all possible conclusions and plan accordingly, but he couldn’t for this, and he didn’t like it. Every time he thought of one possibility, another issue arose, and then another, and then another until the whole thing was spoiled and Dottore had to start from scratch. 

It felt more like a gamble than a thought out plan. Dottore hated gambling.

Was this the best course of action? Was this going to help him in the long run? What were the chances it even succeeded? 

Low, he determined. There was a good chance that even if the young man from the village was able to make something out of the resources he was given, he would still be forced to fall on his own blade if the situation took a turn for the worse with the other two parties. He didn’t particularly care for the fate of the man, but he had a feeling that if it got out that Dottore was the one behind the whole operation, his already depleted funding would turn to dust between his fingers.

Then you can’t let it get out, Dottore decided, stepping into his room--dark and cold with the candles and fireplace snuffed--which meant he would have to take out the man on his own before the Triglav and aristocrats could go about interrogating him… He would have to be ahead of the flow of information, and he had never been one to insert himself into webs of spiders and nests of snakes.

But, that’s assuming the worst case scenario, Dottore mused. Should all go well, the elites of the Triglav will be hung, and the aristocrats will finally be displaced from their position at the top. Dottore will have significantly increased funding, and they might very well finally have their Ninth or Eleventh seat filled again. 

As he reached the desk at the far corner of his room, Dottore’s chest felt heavy in a way that he had never felt before. Dottore exhaled carefully, placing down the report and taking a seat as he tried to figure out what was causing the strange feeling. Not his segments, he was confident that he had been able to seal off their emotions from his, and it certainly wasn’t his own emotions making him feel this way. 

And if that’s the case… 

He sighed, gaze drawing down to his thumb, then it must be you. 

As soon as he redirected his attention to where the thread was tied neatly around his finger, he felt the soft little tugs. Slow, uneven, he could practically see the pout spread across his soulmate’s unveiled face. It had been quite some time since the daily goodnight tugs, and from what he’d been able to tell over the past five years, his soulmate would always fall asleep soon after the goodnight.

What is the matter? he mused to himself, biting back another heavy sigh as he stared at the thread as if it would give him a verbal response. He realized, distantly, that he was wasting far too much time on this—he needed to finish figuring out first, what Theta had been trying to write and then, what it even meant—but he found his attention anchored on the thin thread, on the soft, slow tugs.

The sinking feeling in his chest was becoming even more intense, and it was sadness, yes, but there was something else. Not for the first time, Dottore damned himself for his inability to properly understand and process emotion.

It was cold, empty, but somehow oppressive and shadowy all at the same time. A part of him wondered if a child should even be feeling this way, but then he thought back to his own childhood—to the Kappa and Iota and Gamma segments—and something inside him twisted, dark and ugly as he considered what that might mean for his soulmate.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the rush of anger. He didn’t like the surge of protectiveness, the urge to shield someone he didn’t even know from the cruelty of the world as he did for his younger segments. He didn’t like that he couldn’t control it. He didn’t like that he couldn’t ignore it. He didn’t like it.

A stranger, the rational part of him hissed. They are a stranger, control yourself.

A stranger that is meant for you, a dangerous, dangerous part of him argued, voice smooth and alluring, a siren that could reel in even a sailor of the strongest willpower. Your fated.

Fated by the same gods who have cursed you a thousand times before, the harsher voice snapped back, grating in his mind, tearing through his head like grinding gears. This is another one of their cruel tricks, and you are playing right into their hands.

Dottore could feel his head aching and that void-like feeling was only getting worse. His chest felt like a gaping hole, like the heart of the abyss, and he felt like a puppet, whose strings were subject to the whims and emotions of a ten year old. 

Why do you feel like this? Dottore wanted to demand, let me fix it so I can return to my work in peace.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, he couldn’t help but notice the way the tugs on the thread were becoming slower, less insistent… as if the person on the other side was giving up hope.

Is that what you want? he thought to himself, incredulity fogging his mind as he put together why his soulmate was feeling these emotions. His finger lifted on instinct, ready to test his hypothesis as he gave a small tug on the shared thread.

The change was instantaneous—sharp and sudden enough that Dottore felt whiplash as his heart leapt from his chest, mind doused in a sort of euphoria that he only ever felt when he made a breakthrough in his research.

Dottore shook his head, forcing himself not to roll his eyes when he realized that the wave of depression stemmed not from a situation happening in their life, but instead from a lack of attention.

He was annoyed at the disruption to his research, but with that ugly feeling gone—the coldness replaced by a very unfamiliar sense of warmth and a light, bubbly feeling in his chest, a childish sort of joy that he wasn’t sure he had ever experienced before—he could finally breathe again, the air felt fresh in his lungs and his mind felt clear. He was able to refocus on the report in front of him with an ease that he hadn’t had before.

Unfamiliar, he repeated to himself, red eyes drifting down to the thread one last time before he took advantage of the new concentration, but he wasn’t sure if it were entirely unwelcome.

reblogs appreciated!

[lordsukunas]

never make him love me

tldr: you’re determined to confess to teen!gojo, but your chances of success are literally 0.

cw: angst/no comfort... sorry? reader is a bit very delusional n kinda weird, gojo may be a bit ooc, no curse au, gender neutral (i think) but reader is wearing a skirt, and im p sure this is not very accurate to the actual japanese school system. not beta read btw

a/n: this has been in my drafts for too long... whoops! trying a different divider but i don’t rlly like it. also does reader count as a girl/boyfailure here or not? they kinda strange tbh :/ idk lol, hope yall enjoy getting rejected by gojo n can yall guess who hes already in love w

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

which, to be fair, a lot of people are. he’s a pretty face: soft, snow-white hair with bright cerulean eyes that draws anyone and everyone in. a big, gorgeous smile, and long, muscular limbs that you just know would feel so good wrapped around you.

plenty of people have confessed to him, and all of them have been rejected. that should be enough to put you off, to make you face the reality that gojo may not be madly in love with you, but it just makes you more determined. he’s just rejecting everyone else because he’s waiting for you!

that has to be it, right?

definitely, you think as you skip to gojo’s classroom. you can feel the weird stares from students (and even a teacher or two), but they don’t matter. you’re going to confess to gojo satoru, damn it, and nothing’s getting in the way.

it’s lunch period, thankfully, which means he’ll be with geto and ieiri. that’s good — his best friends will be there to watch him declare his reciprocated love for you.

you slide the door open, love letter and two packs of kasugai gummies in one hand. a few students in the room glance up at you, including gojo!

the two of you lock eyes — well, you think you do. it’s a bit difficult to tell, but his head is facing your direction, so he’s totally looking at you. he’s noticing you!!!

you bite your lip to stifle the giggle bubbling up in your chest and walk up to the perfect trio (hopefully, soon to be quadruple). “hi, gojo,” you say, a nervous yet giddy smile on your face.

“... hey?” he exchanges looks with geto before focusing back on you. “do i know you?”

okay, ouch. you literally sat behind him in chemistry, but, whatever. don’t focus on the little things!

“um, probably not, but!” you hold out the envelope with a heart sticker as the seal. “i have something to tell you.”

“uh... okay.” gojo scratches the back of his neck, then takes the letter. he slides his finger under the seal, tearing it open, and pulls the letter out. he unfolds it, and both geto and ieiri lean in to also read it.

a frown tugs at the corners of your lips. the words were meant for just gojo, not those two. although... does it really matter? you’re just proving that you’re a good fit for their best friend.

after a drawn out moment of silence, gojo chuckles, albeit awkwardly. “wow, uh... this is a lot.”

you nod. “yeah!” you also hand him the packs of gummies, which he takes a bit more eagerly than the letter and sets them on his desk. “so, um...”

your heart has been hammering in your chest this entire time, but now it feels like it’s trying to escape. sweat accumulates on your palms, and you resist the urge to wipe them on your skirt.

this is the big moment.

you hope and pray and plead to whatever being that’s out there for gojo to accept and reciprocate your feelings. with all the manifesting and ‘love spells’ you’ve done, it should work. gojo satoru is most definitely in love with–

“this is nice, but, uh, i’m not interested.”

...

what?

you blink down at him, and now you’re the one chuckling nervously. “i’m sorry?”

maybe you misheard. that had to be it, right? there’s no way he isn’t in love with you. you bought him gummies, you wrote him a letter, you spent countless hours researching and trying different manifestation methods, you prayed at the shrine, you learned his schedule so that you could pass by him on the way to class, you did everything for him.

he scratches the back of his neck again before refolding the letter and putting it back into the envelope. “i’m not really interested in a relationship right now. you’re probably really cool and stuff, so don’t take it personally.”

no, no, no, no. this isn't how this was supposed to go! he was supposed to say yes! what happened? what did you do wrong?

now you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of his friends. his best friends. how are you supposed to come back from this? thank god no one else in the room is paying attention right now.

heat creeps up the back of your neck and spreads to your face. sweat is drenching your palms, blood is roaring in your ears, and you really want to melt into the ground never to be seen again. you’re pretty sure your heart just shattered into a trillion pieces and a shard pierced your lungs, because you cannot breathe.

you then feel a hand on your forearm, and you jolt. it’s ieiri. “hey, are you–”

“i’m fine!” you blurt, and a few heads turn in your direction. you take the envelope back from gojo, spin on your heel, and rush out of the classroom.

damn it.

you’re pushing past people to get to the restroom, and you slam the stall door shut before locking it.

you’re so stupid. how could the gojo satoru be in love with you?

the tears finally spill from your eyes, running down your cheeks, and you let your face fall into your hands as you sob.

idiot, idiot, idiot.

you should’ve known you wouldn’t be any different. he wasn’t waiting for you. he’ll never be waiting for you. you never had a chance, and in your defense, no one did.

gojo’s heart has already been claimed by someone else, and if you were a little smarter, you’d know exactly who it is.