#like out of all the celebrities i know HE'S the one who appears the most

[lemon-ams111]

secret no more

We were in Venice, Italy, enjoying a beautiful day out with Billie’s bandmates and friends — grabbing ice cream, visiting landmarks, taking pictures, talking, laughing. Billie had her little digital camera with her, capturing everything. It felt so simple, so free. Just us, soaking in the moment.

When we got back to our hotel, we ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate our anniversary quietly — just the two of us, in the comfort of our room. The weather was too perfect to ignore, so we stepped out onto the balcony.

I leaned against the railing, glass in hand, as Billie pointed the camera at me.

“’Kay, now pose for me,” she said with a silly grin.

I smiled, holding the glass toward the camera as she snapped a picture.

“So pretty,” she whispered, peeking at me over the lens.

My smile softened. The world seemed to pause as she set the camera down on the railing and stepped closer.

“You really are adorable. And beautiful. You know that, right?” I whispered.

She didn’t answer — just closed the distance between us. Her hand found my cheek, thumb brushing my skin. Mine landed naturally on her waist.

“Happy three years, Y/N,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss me.

I met her lips with the same tenderness, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of her skirt.

“Happy three years, Bil baby,” I whispered against her mouth as we pulled apart.

She smiled and took a sip of her champagne. We stayed on the balcony a while longer, talking quietly and savoring the moment, just the two of us under the soft Venice light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Billie had a show in Bologna, so we spent most of it at the arena.

I sat on the pit floor with some of her team during rehearsals, singing along, watching every detail, offering thoughts when Billie asked how things looked from my perspective.

Later, we were backstage. Billie, Jane, and Ava were doing their makeup while I lounged on the couch, camera in hand, filming them just as they started teasing Abe — again. We laughed so hard, I almost dropped the camera.

Once everyone was ready, we headed out to a secluded section of the stands to watch Tom Odell’s set. Billie’s arm wrapped around my shoulders; mine snuck around her waist. The Horner sisters flanked us, arms linked as we swayed softly to the music.

About ten minutes before Billie’s set, we were backstage again. She was going over last-minute details with her band, while I stood off to the side texting one of my best friends.

Then I got a message:

“Y/N, check Twitter. Now.”

I frowned. The reception in the arena was awful — too many people — but I managed to open the app. The first thing I saw was a loading image. It wasn’t even visible yet, but the caption was enough:

“Billie Eilish and Y/N Y/L/N confirm romance with a steamy balcony kiss.”

All the blood drained from my face.

I looked up at Billie, who was still in conversation. My hands were shaking. I didn’t have time to think, because her manager suddenly appeared.

“Billie, Y/N — we need to talk,” he said, serious.

I walked over, placing my hand on the small of her back. He led us away from everyone and showed us his phone.

Billie furrowed her brow, then sighed, her eyes meeting mine.

“They caught us,” I whispered.

She nodded, squeezing my hand. I could tell she was holding it together — trying not to let the frustration show.

“This was bound to happen,” she said quietly.

It wasn’t about people finding out. We’d planned to go public soon anyway. What stung was that the choice — our choice — had been taken from us.

I slipped my arm around her shoulders as we both looked to her manager.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do about this,” he said. “I’ll help if you want, but I trust you two to handle it the right way. I’m sorry it happened like this.”

He gave Billie’s shoulder a squeeze before someone called his name and he stepped away.

I turned to her, frowning, my hand running gently down her arm.

“Okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“At least we’re in this together,” she said softly, her smile small but real.

I smiled back, leaning in to kiss her.

“Come on,” I said, tugging her hand gently. “You’ve got a show to do.”

We returned to the group. They’d seen the tweets. They already knew.

“Those fucking paparazzi, I swear to God,” Ava muttered when we joined them, rolling her eyes.

Billie and I both smiled, nodding to let them know we were okay — or at least trying to be.

Soon someone came over to tell Billie it was time. She had to get into the box that would take her under the stage.

I cupped her cheeks gently, thumbs brushing along her skin.

“You’re gonna do amazing, love. I’ll be watching the whole time.”

“Thank you, baby girl,” she whispered, leaning in for one last kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bee.”

She climbed in. The team wheeled her away, and I made my way up into the stands — ready to watch her light up the world.

part 2???

[ohpuckno]

The Florida Panthers should not win the Stanley Cup.

For Oilers fans, it’s unfortunate having to face the same team in the SCF two years in a row, but what has irritated me the most is that it had to be Florida. Not just because of Sam B*nnett’s head-hunting ways and the others’ hard, dirty style of play — that’s a conversation in its own right about favouritism and officiating in the NHL that I’m not going to get into right now, but for reasons that extend outside of hockey. It’s about politics. Hear me out.

It’s no secret that a sport primarily dominated by rich, white men is going to be filled with right-wing conservatism, but no club is as loud and proud about it as the Panthers are. This is a team that purposefully waited until Tr*mp had taken office to visit the White House in February of 2025, a trip that realistically should’ve taken place over the 2024 summer months during the Biden administration. We’ve all seen the pictures. Appearing happier than ever, with their red ties and dressed to the nines, smiling like they won the lottery. Pictures taken on Tr*mp’s golf courses, a custom Panthers jersey embroidered with Tr*mp’s name, Tk*chuk’s “I’m one of the few Americans that love [their] country” speech. From an administration standpoint, the recent suspension of Doug Cifu, the Panthers’s vice chairman, for his very public and online quarrel with a Leafs fan where he tweeted, “Eat shit 51st state anti semite loser. Israel now and forever. Until every last Hamas rat is eliminated” is all so very telling how deeply rooted the extreme conservatism in the Florida franchise is.

When pride jerseys were introduced into the NHL, the Panthers were among the handful of teams that had players opt out of the warmup jerseys, citing ‘religious beliefs’ behind their reason to not participate. They were also not particularly vocal when the pride tape ban (later reversed) came in 2023, a stark contrast to the Oilers who have never shied away from their allyship. I could sit here and list all the ways the Oilers have shown more than just league-issued one and done support to minority communities, but I’ll just leave it at the fact that Edmonton is proudly the founder and home of pride tape. If that’s not enough, the team’s current win song is Pink Pony Club. If that doesn’t say it all, well, I don’t know what will.

My point? “Sports shouldn’t be political.” Wrong, everything is political, whether we want it to be or not, and the Florida Panthers are about as right-wing favourable as it gets. They are getting coined “the MAGA of the NHL” online lately, and it is not without reason. Every year the NHL sees an expansion in its fans — tenfold during and following the playoffs. Theoretically, the Panthers win The Cup. Then what? Another visit to the White House? Another public display of support for Tr*mp? Are they really going to shake his hand again with everything happening in America? What type of fans is that going to attract to the league? The last thing hockey culture, and this league needs, is a bunch of insufferable Tr*mp supporters filling up season seats. There are already far too many.

Hockey aside, the type of political figures a team publicly shows its support for speaks volumes about the values harboured by the team and organization. I don’t care if visiting the White House is ‘tradition.’ Traditions can be broken, the Florida Panthers just don’t care to break them.

Edmonton Oilers, Zach Hyman, Connor McDavid, Darnell Nurse, and Leon Draisaitl with Liberal party leader and Canadian Prime Minister, Mark Carney.

Florida Panthers celebrating their 2024 Stanley Cup win with Donald Trump.

That’s all. Just food for thought.

[xo8ball]

had a dream i met mr Patrick Stump and he was my height and i almost said wow hes Short! but started fangirling and stopped to say Hey you're really cool :)) and he nodded happily. he was wearing a fedora and thick glasses and a Hawaiian shirt with Hawaiian short cargo pants. adorable. Then acclaimed band Fall Out Boy played while the world ended (it was an elaborate prank the world wasnt ending it was just a puppet) and a heavier version of Hold Me Like A Grudge got in my head and it was so good i cant even remember it.

[norristeria]

You're a Strange One ! LN04

SUMMARY 𝄡 Being Oscar's personal assistant is easy. However, you cannot help but think his coworker is the strangest man you've ever met.

PAIRING 𝄡 Lando Norris x Oscar's PA! FemReader

TAGS 𝄡 Fluff.

WORDCOUNT 𝄡 650.

NOTE 𝄡 This is just a little something I had in mind. This is more of a pairing exploration than a real one-shot. I don't know what to make of it, tbh. Do you think this couple has enough potential for a one-shot? <33

-> FIND THE SERIES INSPIRED BY THIS DRABBLE HERE.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

You never imagined that you'd end up working as Oscar Piastri’s personal assistant after getting your degree in communications summa cum laude.

If your parents had nearly had a heart attack upon seeing their daughter “reduced to a servant” after paying for one of the country’s most prestigious universities, you, on the other hand, had learned to bless this twist of fate.

Because it was indeed fate you had to thank for the way your life had turned out. People underestimated its power far too often, but you had come to cherish it and to welcome it back whenever it decided to reappear.

Fate made its grand entrance in your life one night in 2023, after yet another rejection from talent agencies and management firms. Internships, professional experience, glowing references—none of it seemed to matter to the big corporations. What mattered were connections, and you had none.

That night, you'd had two glasses of red wine, perhaps more, your cheeks streaked with mascara and frustration.

Fate, ironically methodical despite its name, had chosen that precise moment to show up in the form of a job listing on a website whose name you no longer remember. What you did remember, however, was how your eyes widened as you read the salary and perks.

One cover letter, three interviews later, and suddenly your life was split between racetracks, England, and Monaco.

Every day, you thanked fate for putting Oscar Piastri in your path.

He was easy to work with: a coffee without sugar in the morning, a calendar of sporadic appointments to manage—mostly concentrated on race weekends—and very few public appearances outside those. In short, a normal guy, refreshingly different from the awful clients you'd heard horror stories about since entering the strange world of celebrity.

The only blemish—though not quite that, more a curiosity you hadn’t anticipated—was that working for Oscar Piastri meant regularly crossing paths with Lando Norris.

And you didn’t quite know what to make of him, except that he was oh so very strange.

The first time he saw you, he tripped.

You hadn’t even had time to shake his hand, and Oscar hadn’t yet introduced you.

Your eyes met, the Brit blushed furiously, then went sprawling to the ground. You stood frozen before exchanging a baffled look with Oscar, who merely sighed and hauled his friend back to his feet.

The following encounters were no better.

By the third one, you concluded that Lando Norris must have some kind of speech impediment—he couldn’t seem to string two words together around you. Not even to answer simple questions like “How are you?” or “Do you know where Oscar is?”.

Instead, he’d stammer something utterly unintelligible, then vanish, leaving you to wander alone through the endless corridors of the McLaren Technology Centre in search of Oscar.

And now… now he stared. All the time. Without saying a word. You had never felt more awkward in your life.

Even now, you couldn’t escape those green eyes, burning hotter than the Bahrain sun. The McLaren garage was buzzing as the race neared, yet Lando remained still in one corner, eyes locked on you.

Too busy fetching cold towels and water bottles to cool Oscar down, you had ignored him at first. But now that the Australian had his towels, his bottle, his headphones, and his phone, there was nothing left to keep you distracted.

You finally looked up. Your gaze met Lando’s just as he took a sip of water.

Startled, he choked, spraying water all over his engineer—who shouted something you couldn’t quite catch. Lando floundered through an apology, cheeks crimson.

Your eyes met again.

He smiled—sheepishly, like it hurt—and turned around.

Before walking straight into a wall.

You frowned, shook your head and turned your attention back to the race schedule.

Yes. Lando Norris was definitely the strangest man you had ever met.

[starcurtain]

I know everyone sees Itto as Genshin's comedic relief, but I'm telling you all, Alhaitham is actually the funniest character in Genshin Impact.

According to the fandom, he's hot, he's famous, he's the one in charge of the house...

But according to the people of Sumeru? Dude became grand sage and not a single NPC around the city had a thing to say about that. Sachin's son got his ass beat and he didn't even know who Alhaitham was; it was just "some guy in green." People on the streets are said to not even notice Alhaitham, let alone be able to identify him by appearance. The only time we ever hear NPCs directly commenting on Alhaitham, it's Siraj's collective who hate Alhaitham's guts. Dori refuses to work with him. Random Eremites call him a lunatic within two minutes of meeting him.

Alhaitham's reputation in Sumeru is "Who? Ah, that guy? I heard he's weird," and then everyone moves on.

Meanwhile, Kaveh is literally famous enough to have an epithet ("the Light of Kshahrewar"), is the lead architect on entire city redesigns, and was trusted before Alhaitham's take over to do work on the Akademiya itself. He built the most famous landmark in the rainforest outside of the Divine Tree. He's well-known enough that people bank on his reputation to start scams; people send their children to take courses with him in the belief that it will bless them with successful future careers. He's known for philanthropic endeavors to help the poor and disadvantaged. He won the Interdarshan Championship. This is the Sumeru equivalent of winning an Olympic gold medal!!

Kaveh is the Taylor Swift to Alhaitham's Travis Kelce. They might have independent success, but in every measurement of public sentiment, Kaveh vastly outshines Alhaitham, and the fandom should really take a step back and think about how hilarious this makes everything about their situation in canon.

For the few in Sumeru who are actually paying attention, sure, Alhaitham is the (former) acting grand sage who makes a pretty penny and owns the house Kaveh lives in. For the average majority of Sumeru's citizens who are way more likely to know Kaveh? Alhaitham is literally just "that guy who is shacked up with the Light of Kshahrewar."

Kaveh's efforts to keep where he lives a secret just makes him come across like one of those reclusive types of artists who value their privacy. Half the public in Sumeru probably think he just prefers to keep himself and his lover out of the limelight. Kaveh was so busy pretending not to be poor, he forgot that every ounce of pretending he does just helps him keep his own celebrity status. The harder he attempts to act secretive about where he lives and with whom, the more it comes across as "Please respect this famous person's privacy and stop asking about the details of his relationship."

And Alhaitham, for whom being "that guy who is shacked up with the Light of Kshahrewar" is THE life goal? Everything is going according to keikaku. Kaveh has convinced the entirety of Sumeru that he and Alhaitham are in a relationship, all without Alhaitham having to lift a finger. The more determined Alhaitham gets to fly under the radar, the more it looks like he's Kaveh's kept man. If you aren't living with him because you're broke, then why are you living with him, Kaveh? There's simply no way for Alhaitham to lose.

It's just... so funny.

[himasgod]

idk if its okay

but can I request for the tapis rouge boyos (vil, azul, jamil, ace) with a reader who gets hit on by a well known celebrity who has a reputation for being a playboy.

thank youuu

ACE, JAMIL, AZUL AND VIL X READER

Where a famous playboy actor wants to flirt with you in Tapis Rouge

How would guys react if, at the Vil's Red Carpet Cadets event, a famous actor with dark intentions approached you to hit on you?

I put Zane as the default name, if there is a Zane reading this, don't be offended😭 You don't need to have played the event to read the one-shot, I hope you enjoy it <3

Maquillaville was packed with rich, famous people who—according to Ace—were annoyingly full of themselves. He wasn't really used to this kind of fancy event, but he played it off well with his cocky grin and bold style. In his own way, he looked great.

You were chatting with a few guests when someone Ace couldn't ignore walked in.

Model, actor, and even film director. He had that fake-perfect smile and a dating history that probably broke some kind of record. Tall, tanned, and smooth-talking, he zoned in on you like a predator the second he saw you.

"Sorry to interrupt," "Zane" said with a charming smirk, "but your smile is brighter than the lights in this place. How about I buy you a drink… or better yet, take you out to dinner tomorrow?"

Ace stopped chewing his fancy canapé. He turned his head slowly, like he'd just heard the funniest joke ever.

"A drink? Seriously? Bro, do you think you're in some rom-com?"

Zane blinked at him, confused. “And you are…?”

Ace slid in next to you, his hand on your hip, flashing his most smug smile, though his eyes were sharp.

"The boyfriend. The only one who can make them smile like that without copy-pasting lines from Google."

Zane chuckled. "Well, lucky you, man. No harm in a compliment—"

“Sure, sure,” Ace said, crossing his arms.

"But there's a difference between a compliment and drooling all over my partner. If you want attention that bad, try flirting with a mirror. Bet it'll respond better."

Zane rolled his eyes and walked off in annoyance.

Once he was out of sight, you turned to Ace, one eyebrow raised.

“Jealous?”

“Jealous?!” Ace spun toward you, visibly offended.

"That wasn't jealousy! That was common sense! The guy was talking like you were a character in some cheesy pickup scene! And you laughed at one of his jokes! Like—seriously!?"

You laughed.

“Oh, Ace…”

He clicked his tongue, but his grin gave him away. He leaned in, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Look, I don't care if you're the center of attention. Honestly, I love it. Let the whole world stare… just so they know exactly who you're with—"

His voice dropped to a murmur against your ear.

“—and who they’ll never be.”

Then he pulled back, smirking wider.

“And if that C-list actor tries flirting again, I swear I'm going to stuff his ego in a box and send it back with a bow.”

Jamil was at your side, impeccable. Although he tried to appear calm, he kept scanning every corner of the room… especially whoever looked at you for too long.

And then he saw it.

Internationally acclaimed actor and singer, known as much for his musical hits as for his romantic history. He was the kind of person who turned every interview into an opportunity to flirt and every gala into a hunt.

He approached you with that well-rehearsed smile of his, champagne glass in hand, his eyes shining with that invasive interest.

"I didn't know stars walked this red carpet," he said, scanning you from head to toe. "Do you have a date for after the event?"

Before you could answer, you felt Jamil's firm presence at your side. His smile was barely perceptible, and his dark eyes, fixed on him.

"I don't think you heard correctly," he said calmly. "They're with me."

Zane laughed sarcastically, never taking his eyes off you.

"Oh, I thought you were a stylish bodyguard. I didn't know you were the… boyfriend?"

Jamil took a step forward, placing himself completely between you and him, like a protective shadow.

"I'll tell you this only once. I don't know what kind of games you usually play with your 'conquests,' but if you want to keep your reputation from falling further, I suggest you back off now."

He raised an eyebrow, still defiant.

"And if I don't?"

Jamil smiled with disturbing slowness.

"Then I'll make you understand. And believe me, I know exactly how to do it without ruining your image… although I wouldn't mind that in the least."

There was a moment of tension. He, perhaps for the first time in a long time, felt insecure around someone. And he left.

You looked at Jamil, somewhat impressed.

"Are you always so calm when you're jealous?"

"Jealous?" Jamil sighed, taking your hand.

"I'm not jealous. I'm irritated. Because that guy dared to look at you like a trophy."

He turned to you, his expression softer.

"And you're not a trophy. You're someone I chose, and who chose me. I don't need to shout it… but I won't let anyone dare touch what I respect."

Every flashbulb seemed to follow you as you walked beside Vil, so perfect it outshone even the biggest stars. The whole world felt like a runway, and you, at his side, were part of the spectacle.

You were used to receiving stares, but this time you felt a particularly insistent one.

"Do you know him?"

Vil whispered near your ear, without taking his eyes off a certain famous actor who was approaching.

It was an international star known for his leading man roles… and for his many love scandals. Vil pursed his lips with the elegance of someone who knew perfectly well who this man was and how little he liked him.

"Only by sight…" you replied, a little uncomfortable as you noticed the actor coming straight toward you.

"Then don't stare at him so much." Vil murmured with a charming smile, but his eyes were sharp.

The actor arrived and, as if he had no idea who Vil was (which was impossible), offered you his hand.

"I didn't expect to see someone so charming tonight. Have we met? Because if not, I'd love to change that."

Vil took a subtle step, standing half in front of you. His face, still sporting a polite smile, was tense like a perfectly placed mask.

"Funny, I thought charm wasn't enough when it came to respect," he said, in that tone of his as polished as liquid poison.

"My partner doesn't usually fall for such cheap tricks, Mr. Zane."

The actor laughed, as if he didn't take the hint.

"A couple? What a shame… Although that's never been an obstacle in romantic movies," he joked, winking at you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Vil was quicker. He took your hand and entwined it with his, raising his chin

"This isn't a movie. And if you think you can turn my relationship into just another chapter in your "red carpet romances," you're sorely mistaken."

The actor seemed amused by the reaction, but seeing Vil's sharp gaze with pride, jealousy, and elegance, he simply raised his hands.

"Well, well. I didn't know you were so committed, Schoenheit. Lucky for you. And for you too."

He winked at you with a mischievous smile before walking away.

The air seemed to have cooled a couple of degrees.

Vil turned to you, still frowning slightly.

"I warn you, that man is like cheap perfume: strong at first, but in the end, only an unpleasant aftertaste."

"Are you jealous?" You asked with a soft smile.

Vil stared at you, then sighed, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in your attire.

"No. I'm forewarned. Because I value you. And I won't let someone like him touch you with even the hint of an intention."

He leaned in elegantly, his lips brushing the line of your jaw, just enough for you to feel it only for yourself.

"You're too precious to be trifled with. And if anyone tries… they'll have to face me."

The hair, his thin glasses, and that brown suit with subtle pinstripes gave him an air of sophistication that contrasted with his inner nerves whenever someone approached you.

You'd been walking through with him, just chatting, when a tall man with an easy smile and a foreign accent approached you.

"Are you the person everyone is whispering is stealing the event tonight? My name is Zane Duclair but you can call me Zane. Although I'd prefer it if you called me later."

He winked at you.

Azul blinked. He smiled, but his fingers trembled slightly as he gripped your hand.

"Zane Duclair… the actor with three public breakups and five harassment lawsuits… charming track record," he murmured.

Zane gave a carefree laugh, as if everything was slipping away.

"Oh, all in the past. Tonight I'm only interested in this beautiful person," he said, taking your hand without permission. "Would you do me the pleasure of dinner after the gala?"

Before you could respond, Azul placed a hand on your shoulder. His smile was still there, but his eyes were pure ice.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your attempt at 'conquest,' Zane, but my companion already has plans with me tonight. And they're non-negotiable."

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

"And who are you? Their manager?"

Azul let out a short, almost mocking laugh.

"No, I'm a bit more complicated than that. I'm the person who knows their every taste, every gesture, every look. And also the person who can't stand it when someone with a questionable reputation tries to fish in waters that don't belong to him."

Zane looked offended, but Azul stepped forward, still keeping his voice polite.

"And if you insist, I can present you with a complete list of legal clauses regarding harassment and non-consensual advances. I'm sure your lawyers will be able to read between the lines."

Zane left, visibly irritated, and Azul took your arm to lead you away, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," you said. "I didn't expect someone like him to approach me like that."

Azul shook his head.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault there are men who confuse charisma with entitlement. But if he approaches you again… I won't need contracts."

He glanced at you, lowering his voice.

"You are valuable. I will not allow anyone to see you as something they can buy or conquer. Because you are already… firmly committed to me."

[charlotteking27]

Red Hair, Fast Cars

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: You are a redhead with curly hair dating Max Verstappen, but after the Netherlands GP, you are spotted at the redhead festival, and the fans go crazy.

Warning: none

Requested: yes, anonymous

The roar of engines at Zandvoort still echoed in your ears as you drove through the Dutch countryside. Your curly red hair caught the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the car window.

Max had won his home Grand Prix again, and the celebration had been amazing. Now you were ready for something completely different.

"Are you sure about this?" Max asked that morning, gently twisting one of your copper curls around his finger. "You know the cameras will be everywhere after yesterday's race."

You just smiled and kissed him goodbye. "It's been three years since I attended a proper redhead festival. I'm not missing Roodharigendag for anything—not even for the world champion."

Walking through the gates of Tilburg's Stadspark, you felt like you had entered another world. Hundreds of people with every shade of red hair imaginable filled the park—from strawberry blonde to deep auburn, straight hair to curls wilder than your own. For the first time in months, you didn’t stand out. You were just another redhead in a sea of beautiful, fiery locks.

You had been careful—sunglasses, a simple sundress, and your hair pulled back into a bun with curls escaping everywhere. But apparently, you weren’t careful enough.

"Oh my God, is that Max Verstappen's girlfriend?"

The whisper carried on the wind, and you felt that familiar flutter of recognition ripple through the crowd around you. You had been photographed enough times in the paddock that dedicated fans knew your face, especially with your distinctive hair.

"It is! She's here! At the redhead festival!"

Within minutes, your quiet afternoon celebrating natural red hair had turned into something else entirely. Phones appeared everywhere, and suddenly, you were at the center of attention among a crowd that was made up of redhead festival attendees and Formula 1 fans who had somehow appeared out of nowhere.

"Can we get a picture?" "Are you here with Max?" "Your hair is gorgeous!" "Is Max coming?"

The questions came from all directions, but what struck you most was how different this felt from the usual racing crowd attention.

Here, surrounded by a sea of redheads, many comments were about your natural curls, representation, and how cool it was to see someone like you dating a world champion.

"I love that you never straighten it for the cameras," said a teenage girl with bright red ringlets similar to yours. "My mum always says I should, but seeing you... I don’t want to anymore."

Your heart swelled as the young girl took inspiration from you. You hoped to help more redheads—those who needed someone to talk to or look up to—feel confident in themselves. You wanted to be the person you wished had been there for you when you were growing up.

You found yourself relaxing despite the growing crowd. These weren't just racing fans—they were your people, in a way. People who understood what it was like to have hair that couldn't be ignored, who probably faced the same comments and questions throughout their lives.

"Excuse me, everyone!" A familiar Dutch accent cut through the chatter, and the crowd parted as Max appeared, still wearing his Red Bull polo from earlier sponsor obligations. "I heard my favorite redhead was causing trouble without me."

The crowd erupted. Here was the Dutch racing hero at their local redhead festival, grinning as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"I thought you had meetings all afternoon," you whispered.

"Cancelled them," he murmured back, loud enough for nearby phones to catch. "Couldn’t let you have all the fun with your fellow redheads without me."

What followed was magical chaos. Max happily posed for pictures, signed autographs, and listened with genuine interest as festival organizers explained the history of redhead celebrations.

What made your heart swell were the moments watching him with the kids, especially the young redheads who seemed starstruck that someone who looked like them was dating their racing hero.

A young boy, no more than thirteen, shyly approached Max, holding a notebook and pen in one hand. Max greeted him with a smile. "Your hair is so cool," Max told the boy with bright orange curls. "Just like hers. You should never let anyone tell you to change it, okay?"

By the time you escaped the crowd, the sun was setting, and social media was buzzing. #RedheadFestival was trending, filled with pictures of you and Max surrounded by hundreds of redheads, your curly hair finally free from its bun and wild in the evening breeze.

"Well," Max said as you walked back to the car, his fingers intertwined with yours, "I think we just started something."

Your phone was buzzing nonstop with notifications. Twitter was going crazy:

@F1RedQueen: "STOP EVERYTHING. Max's girlfriend is at the REDHEAD FESTIVAL, and I'm crying; she's literally found her people."

@CurlyHairDontCare: "The way she's never hidden her natural curls and now she's celebrating at the redhead festival... WE LOVE A CONFIDENT QUEEN."

@DutchGPFan: "From Zandvoort to redhead festival in 24 hours, this girl really said 'watch me live my best life' and I RESPECT IT."

@GingerPride2025: "Seeing Max Verstappen's gf at Redhead Festival is the representation we needed. Natural curls in F1! RED HAIR SUPREMACY!"

Your best friend texted: "Girl, Twitter is going crazy. There's already fan art of you as the 'Redhead Racing Queen', and three different people have started Instagram accounts dedicated to your curls. Also, redhead festival attendance just tripled for next year."

You showed Max the message, and he laughed, the sound mixing with the distant music still playing in the park behind you.

"Think you can handle being the unofficial spokesperson for redheads in motorsport?" he asked, playfully tugging on one of your curls.

You grinned, standing on your toes to kiss him as someone in the distance shouted, "There they are!" A fresh wave of camera flashes began.

"I think I can manage," you said. "After all, someone has to represent the curly redheads in the paddock."

"Good," Max replied, pulling you closer as fans started approaching again, "because I have a feeling this is just the beginning."

As the crowd surrounded you both once more, filled with racing fans and redhead festival attendees alike, you couldn't help but smile even brighter. Looking around at all these young redheads taking selfies with newfound confidence, you realized you could finally turn the insecurity you had felt growing up into the representation they deserved.

Watching Max sign autographs while complimenting everyone's hair, you thought it might just be the best beginning you could have asked for.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Unlucky Overtime

SUMMARY: The Spelldrive game against Royal Sword Academy was very close. But it was in overtime that the teams broke the tie and Night Raven College... lost. They were very upset by this loss and need your comfort even if they deny it.

CHARACTERS: Spelldrive Club 🧹 (Leona Kingscholar; Ruggie Bucchi; Epel Felmier)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Comfort; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 780 words per character.

COMMENTS: Following the same premise as what I wrote for Basketball Club and Track and Field Club of "What if they lost?"

When I started writing about comforting them when they lose, I ended up finding it more interesting and cute than celebrating when they win. I think it's in the bad times that feelings are most intimate and honest.

When I wrote Epel's part, I was upset about something IRL and it ended up helping me writing him. 😂

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy 😉

OTHER CLUBS:

But… We Lost… - Basketball Club (Ace / Floyd / Jamil)

Romantic Experiment - Science Club (Trey / Rook)

For a Quarter of a Second - Track and Field Club (Deuce / Jack)

A Rainy Walk - Mountain Lover Club (Jade) / Gargoyle Studies Club (Malleus)

In the Backstage - Pop Music Club (Cater / Kalim / Lilia)

CONTEXT: If there are competitive players who love to win, they are the members of the NRC Spelldrive Club. Leona, Ruggie and Epel especially. They were playing with everything, especially because of the school they were playing against. The game against Royal Sword Academy was very close, as expected.

When the game ended they needed to break the tie and so the game went into overtime. But unfortunately, this did not give your school the victory.

Leona seemed upset about losing, as did the other players on his team. But even so, he was the calmest in comparison.

They congratulated the RSA students on their victory (or as close to it as possible, if we ignore the slight growls and murderous looks). They avoided unnecessary interactions until they could leave the field.

You know very well how Leona hates to lose, especially when he tries so hard. And so you knew you had to check on him and try to comfort him, even if he says he doesn't want you to.

You go to the locker rooms exit, but you don't see Leona coming out. Many of the players looked at you angrily when they passed by, but knowing how close you were to Leona, they didn't have the courage to even be rude to you directly.

When you see Ruggie, you ask him about Leona. He tells you that Leona left right after he came in, that he went in, grabbed his things and left. He didn't even change his clothes. This worries you and Ruggie.

“You should go check on him.” Ruggie tells you. “And even if he says he wants to be alone, don't listen, okay? He likes your company even if he doesn't like to admit it. I would also warn you not to pressure him, but you already know that.”

“And where do you think he went?” You ask.

“Where do you think he went? Come on, it's not like we don't know his favorite spots.”

You decided to try your luck at the Botanical Garden, and it looks like you were right, but you didn't realize it right away. You go to one of his favorite spots under a certain tree. You look around, but you don't see anyone, until you suddenly see a tail appearing hanging down beside you. You look up and see Leona lying on a thick branch above you.

“I don't need your comfort.” Leona says, without moving and without looking at you. “Go to your dorm. It's late.”

“You wanted me to see you.” You say. “Otherwise you wouldn't let your tail fall beside me.”

“Believe what you want, herbivore.”

His tail was still there by your side and you don't resist to touch it to mess with him. You reach your hand towards his tail, but at the last second it swings, lightly hits you in the face and returns to Leona's lap, away from you. He finally looks at you, but with an annoyed face and growls.

“I'm not in the mood to play. Go away before I bite you... Don't look at me like that.” He adjusts his head again and stops looking at you.

You sit down against the tree trunk. He growls again, but doesn't move. Just like with cats, you'll just stay there waiting for him to come to you. You use your phone or read a book while you wait.

A few minutes later it starts to get colder, you start to notice it and curl up a little. Suddenly something falls on top of your head, you uncover yourself and see that it is a long coat. Leona's captain's coat. You look up and see him in the same lazy position but without the coat and just with the black clothes and belts. You put it on and you start to warm up right away because it was still warm from him having been wearing it.

A few more minutes later and you are startled again by something that falls right in front of you. Or rather, that lands right in front of you.

“Don't you get tired?” Leona asks you, crouching down and looking you in the eyes. “Of being so stubborn?” He has that unbothered, but still slightly annoyed face.

You put down what you had in your hands and stretch your legs on the floor. He gives you a little throat growl. You smile, but he growls at you more, and suddenly he throws himself at you as if he's going to attack you. But he didn't. He stopped very close to your face.

“Yes. I'm angry that I lost.” He says in a low voice. “And that's why you shouldn't have come to me. I don't need pity or words of comfort.”

“Do you really think I pity you?” You ask. “I wasn't worried about you being angry. I was worried that you would fall back into that depressive state of feeling like life is unfair and it's not worth trying anymore.”

His green eyes remain fixed on yours and suddenly he kisses you eagerly. You already know him well enough to know what truly hides behind those roars and tough guy mask. His instinct was to reward you for it.

After he breaks the kiss he lays his head either on your chest or in your lap and hugs you. You are trapped now until he is willing to let you go.

Ruggie was so angry that Leona had to calm him down. All the NRC players congratulated the RSA players, but clearly only because it was what they had to do. The tension and animosity could be cut with a knife. After that, the NRC players go straight to the locker rooms. You feel like you should check on Ruggie.

You go to the exit of the locker rooms to wait for him. Some of the players who passed you on their way out gave you bad looks, but knowing how close you were to Ruggie, they did nothing more than just grumble into the air.

When Ruggie finally left he was still angry. When he saw you, his expression didn't change much other than being a little embarrassed.

“Hi, sorry, I don't have time.” He apologizes, clearly trying to avoid you, but smiling. “I want to put these clothes in the wash ASAP.” He walks around you and starts going away.

You follow him.

“I was thinking about trying those new donuts from Sam's shop with you.” You say.

You see his ears twitch with interest.

“Yeah... but you know, I'm not really hungry. And since they're new, those donuts are still expensive. I'm waiting for him to lower the price a little.”

“Don't worry, I already bought them for you.”

Ruggie stops! And looks at you in surprise.

“You did?! Why?”

“I wanted to give them to you after the game anyway. You know, for the good game.” You see him pouting. “I didn't buy them as a consolation gift. I did it before the game started. I was going to give them to you even if you had won.”

He seemed more satisfied with that explanation and you took out the box you had in your backpack.

“How come I don't smell it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise, so I asked Sam if there was a way to hide the scent from you. He used a spell on the box.”

Ruggie asks you if he charged extra for the spell. You said he didn't. Before you open the box, Ruggie suggests that you go to a more chill place. After all, you were still near the locker rooms surrounded by players and spectators.

The Windmill is right behind the coliseum and not many people usually go there. In fact, there was no one else there. The two of you sat on the edge of the stream that surrounded the Windmill. The sound of running water could calm both of you.

You open the box, take out one of the donuts and hold it up to his mouth. He blushes a little, but accepts your offer and takes a bite. You loosen your grip and he takes the donut out of your hand with his mouth.

While he was eating he looked at the water and despite the calming sound his anger returned because of the thoughts that also returned to that game. You could hear him mumbling softly, and see his ears back and his teeth showing.

He finishes eating the donut and stands up abruptly, starting to release his frustration with swearing and cursing to the air, kicking the ground and even pulling up grass. You remain sitting on the floor eating your donut.

As soon as he finishes his emotional outburst, which he always did with his back to you, he finally turns around, dropping his arms and sighing. He kneels down next to you, looks at you with a pout, picks up the box of donuts and takes it from your lap. For a second you think he's going to steal all the donuts for himself, but he sets the box aside and lays his head in your lap as if he's laying it on the pillow after a tantrum. You even hear a dog-like whining. If you pet his head, you might see his tail wagging a little.

The two of you continued eating the donuts as you pet his head and ears to comfort him. When the donuts are gone and the box is empty, he gets up, sitting on the grass next to you. Ruggie looks at you, still a little sad, but calmer and with an affectionate sparkle in his eyes.

He doesn't say anything, he just throws himself into a kiss as a thank you.

EPEL WAS PISSED!!! Leona and Ruggie had to calm him down. Even RSA players were scared to see someone like Epel like that. Like other NRC players he avoided unnecessary interactions with players from the opposing and winning team.

As soon as they were able to retreat to the locker rooms Epel was one of the quickest to leave the field. You knew you should check on him.

You go to the exit of the locker rooms to wait for him. You see the other NRC players walk past you, angry about losing and when you finally see Epel coming out of the locker room, the expression on his face is the same if not worse than that of his other teammates, even the vein in his forehead was bulging.

But that changes completely the moment he sees you. His shoulders, and consequently his posture, relaxed and he smiled slightly at you, knowing he couldn't fool you with a big smile. He had a bandage on his nose because of the injury he suffered when he blocked a shot with his face during the game.

You walk over to him and carefully place your hands on his face, showing your concern for his injury. He blushes!

“D-Don't worry. I'm fine, I promise... Gah, wait! Vil’s gonna kill me when he sees me like this!” He suddenly worries.

You say that Vil doesn't need to see him so soon and suggest that the two of you go for a walk so he can clear his head a bit. He sighs and accepts your offer, you are usually right at these times.

“I really need to go for a walk. Or a run. Dagnabbit, I don't even know if walking around the entire campus is enough. If we could leave the camps whenever we wanted and I had a Blastcycle, or... OH! What if you come with me for a broom ride?”

“But you just finished a game of Spelldrive.” You say “Are you sure getting back on a broomstick will be good for you?”

“Don't worry, I can separate a game from a ride. Trust me, it will be good to feel the fresh wind on my face.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

He goes to get his broom and you climb on it behind him, holding on to his torso. The beginning of the ride is pleasant, but eventually he starts to speed up until he reaches a point where you squeeze him and ask him to slow down.

“AH! Sorry, sorry, sorry! My mind went back to that game and I got angry again. I must have started speeding up by accident because of that. Sorry... I think we should stop somewhere for a break.”

He lands on the roof of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Sorry again if I worried you.” He tells you after you both get off the broom. But the ride actually helped me a bit.” Suddenly he grimaces in pain and puts his fingers to the bandage on his nose, it seems his bad mood was returning.

You cup his face and kiss his nose lightly. He blushes a lot again and look away from you.

“I wanted you to see us win.” He admits. “I was so excited to know you were watching. I really wanted to make you proud.”

You tell him that you're proud of him, just as Ruggie and Leona probably are too. Who wouldn't be? He always works so hard to improve. And he's still just a freshman, there will be more opportunities to win, he's just starting out. And for a start, you're sure he played better than a lot of freshmen. You finish by saying that he should rest, especially with an injury like that, and you even offer to take care of it for him if he needs.

“Thank you so much, (Y/N).” He smiles sweetly at you. “I promise I'll give you a win next time.”

If you say that you would prefer him to be more careful, his smile and gaze will become even more affectionate.

“I'll try. Although... hum, nothing.”

You say that now you want to know and he blushes slightly.

“I... I was just thinking that... it must be nice to be taken care of by you. I wouldn't mind getting a shot in the face again for that. Ha ha ha.”

If you hug him, he will freeze for a second, but then he will hug you back and you will feel a loving squeeze, as he whispers a thank you. If you let him, he will kiss your cheek after the hug. And if you want, he will continue with another type of kiss.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - Part 1

Prompt: Dan kills the joker and unintentionally becomes a crime lord

Dan didn't mean to become a Crime Lord. It wasn't his fault that the Joker was fragile and easily killable with one punch to the head. He didn't know that the seemingly immortal clown was easily killed once the impact practically snapped his neck. So yes, Dan didn't mean for this shit to happen. Not when all he wanted to do was go to college, make sure Danny and Elle weren't attracting trouble back in Gotham academy.

It wasn't his fault that the crazy bastard thought it was a good idea to nab his siblings and try to use them for ransom. It's not his fault that his first instinct was to introduce his first to that pennywise knock-off. It'd not his fault that this city was haunted by vengeful ghosts that wanted to tear that motherfucker to shreds.

They were supposed to lay low after the mess with their parents and their name changes.

But nooooo!

They had to have an absolute hatred for clowns and now he's somehow made himself a crime lord. Why the fuck were the Joker's goons so fucking stupid?! They either tried to kill Dan for killing their boss or they tried to fall under him and make him their new leader. It was like a fucking cult in his eyes. Seriously, what the absolute fuck was going on with this shitty city?

It's not like he could call Jazz and say "Hi sis! I killed a crazy clown and I'm now the boss of his weird goons. I also might end up on the local vigilante's hitlist."

Yeah, no. He's not doing that.

But this might not be so bad... Not really. Being their boss could be treated as a source of income if he utilized the Joker's shit properly. I mean, he couldn't always rely on the fruitloops money, not when Vlad could turn traitor and use the money against them. He needed to find a way to support his siblings, one way or another.

And Clockwork did say to get a hobby. If not mass genocide then he could resort to carefully planned crime. Yes. This could work. He'll make it fucking work for the sake of his siblings.

Besides, if he was a crime lord—in motherfucking Gotham—he doubts that the GIW will even try to fuck around in a city where a ghost controlled some part of the criminal underworld.

Oh... Oh, he was gonna fucking do this.

(Clockwork watched as his most troublesome child shifts from world ender to crime lord. At least it was an upgrade from mass genocide.)

Nightwing didn't particularly know what to make of this mess. There were rumors of a new crime lord, of a new rogue.

One day, Joker's body was dropped into the harbor and found by the workers, all confused and scared as to why the Clown Prince of crime was dead in the water. It was humiliating in the Joker's standards, to be discarded like trash into the sea rather than have his body displayed for everyone to gawk at. The clown would have adored being glorified but whoever the hell killed him knew this and fucked the guy up bad.

His head snapped and his corpse tossed out like leftovers.

Jason had laughed, outright celebrated and Crime Alley was as festive as it ever was with the Red Hood blasting music through the streets and partying like there was no tomorrow. All of Gotham was celebrating, parading through the streets with pinatas that looked like the Joker. Harley would drop down from whatever roof she was on and swing her bat at the pinata, spilling red candy as everyone cheered and laughed. It was morbidly glorious.

But the festivities didn't erase the fact that someone had killed the Joker and knew what to do to disrespect him in the worst ways possible. It wasn't long until Joker's old lackeys were rallying to someone—a new boss. It wasn't odd for goons without bosses to move on to find different jobs, but for all of Joker's old minions to work for the same person? This was definitely the guy who killed the Joker.

No name, no appearance, nothing. Just quiet activity with organising his new goons to do strange errands. Stuff that didn't point them in the direction of criminal activity.

"You got anything?" Dick murmurs as Tim slouches over the batcomputer, watching as his younger brother sneered at the screen.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He snaps, "All footage of this new rogue is immediately corrupted."

Babs hums, "And it's not like it's altered after it's been taken. The distortion happens live. They either have some tech on them or they're a meta who can avoid cameras." She adds, taking a leisure sip of the tea Alfred kindly offered them. "Whoever this is doesn't leave a trace aside from this shitty footage."

Tim groans, "I officially hate this guy!" He almost tosses his mug out of anger, shaking his head.

"Does Jason have any info on this one?"

And like the fucking menace he was, Jason pops up without another word. "He goes by Wraith." No one was startled, just sparing him a glance before nodding.

"That's it?"

"The goonions adore him." Jason shrugs, "Guy's been quick. Dealing with shit like Black Mask and other trafficking operations. Some of the kids he's saved wear clothes that have this specific symbol on them. It's a good tactic mind you. Tells people to fuck off and don't come anywhere near the kid or else he'll sic whatever bullshit he has in someone."

Dick narrowed his eyes, "Is it effective?"

"Hell yeah! One of the kids got kidnapped just last week. I went to save the poor thing but he walked out of that warehouse while the kidnappers were bleeding and sobbing." Jason once again grins, "Little Tommy threatened me if I try to arrest Wraith."

"So more anti-heri than villain. Good enough, at least." Dick sighed, shaking his head as he narrowed his eyes on the screen. More distorted footage.

"Thanks for the info, little wing."

"Just updatin' you guys. Heard some rumors that Harley's on the hunt for Wraith to thank him."

Great...

It's been a solid two months since the death of the Joker. Batman and the rest of his birds were increasingly wary of the Wraith and his two new associates that went by Phantom and Specter. No footage on the three could ever be recovered, making them all assume this was the work of a meta.

Most of them weren't sure if this guy was a threat or not. Red Hood, on the other hand, had a fairly positive opinion on the guy who's been hanging traffickers by their legs and immediately staking their claim on the kid to keep them safe.

The new crime lord was slowly dismantling the criminal underworld and building it back up to their design.

"FUCKING HELL!" Dick glared at the screen again, "That's Wraith's doing, isn't it? No way did the Riddler blow up that building."

"Wraith's only been dealing with traffickers so far. Why would he do this?" Steph murmurs, staring at the recording of a building that had suddenly went off. Numerous were dead, some barely survived.

"That's the motherfucker's symbol." Dick pointed to the glowing green symbol that looked liked a fire with some obscure letter they couldn't really make out. (Was it a D or a P?)

"Okay... Why would Wraith blow up a building and kill everyone?" Jason immediately asked, seeming to be defensive of the man. "He doesn't just kill people, Dick."

"Even so..." Bruce grunts, clearly displeased with the bloodshed. All that death...

"We're going after him." Bruce announced, "I'm not putting of the Wraith investigation anymore."

Dan stared at the pictures of the bodies, pudding out smoke without a cigarette in sight. His new minions—they preferred the term goons—were clearly apprehensive and continued to observe their new boss's expressions. This explosion had been his first act of pure and utter violence, a massacre of sorts.

He glances at Danny who melted out of the shadows, startling his goons.

"Can't say I'm not upset but I get why you did that shit." He begrudgingly admits, sitting across Dan. Phantom was a reluctant associate to his new organization of crime—ish.

"They weren't just trafficking kids, squirt. Pimping them, killing them and selling their organs, hosting matches and making meta kids fight to the fucking death." Dan clicked his tongue, "No redemption in that, Phantom."

"I get it, alright!" Danny snapped, "But the you've gotten the direct attention of the Bats now. They're gonna come for us, Wraith."

"Boss?" One of the goons—Dan remembers him as Jeremy Nelson. One guy just trying to support himself and his kid, trying to keep his sweet little daughter in school with as much money as he could get. Dan remembers giving the man a raise and a jacket with their family's symbol stitched into it—one for little Marigold.

"I'll deal with it. For now, you guys spread the word on that shit. I don't want anyone thinking I killed a bunch of kids." Dan growled, "My reputation can burn for all care, but like hell am I letting people think I hurt kids."

With Jeremy leading the other goons, he nodded and hurried out of the office to spread a word. The former Joker goons had taken a liking to their new boss, preferring his ways rather than their dead one.

"Jazz won't like this, y'know." Danny sighs, "I'm not gonna tell her. Never. But she'll find out, one way or another."

Dan frowns, "You think I don't know? It's Jazz, Danny."

"Yeah, yeah. I just didn't expect you to be like this. Crime Lord and everything."

Dan snorts, "I was the world ender, brat. This is mild compared to what I've done."

"Yeah, sure."

He shook his head, "You've got your own problems, brat. The Observants are still fussin' about you being king, your majesty."

An identical scowl looks back at Dan, and he's reminded that this kid is him. An alternate version of himself and yet they were brothers now. "I know. You killing the Joker fucked some stuff up. Apparently, the motherfucker was cursed to hell."

"Meaning?"

"He's got a lifetime of people in his shadow. Vengefu souls that want him dead." Danny huffs, "Had to deal with the paperwork cause everyone's wantin' a taste of him. I'm workin' on letting Walker release him so his victims can execute his soul."

"Cruel, little king."

"I'll give you his file. Bastard deserves to have his soul destroyed." Danny viciously grins. And once again, best reminded that this twerp is him. They were one and the same, different as well.

"Alright, alright. Fuck off now. We've still got some bats and birds to deal with." Dan immediately showed him away, noting Danny's eye roll.

"Better prepare a birdcage then."

Part 2 | Masterlist

[allpiesforourown]

Superstar Luo Binghe au. All the directors beg him to be in their movies because his fame will immediately assure success for anything they make. He’s handsome, charming, dedicated, and most of all, extremely talented. He even does his own stunts!! Women love him, and men who say they hate him will still watch his movies so they can figure out how to be more like him. 

The only weird thing about Binghe as an actor is that he refuses to star in romantic films. He won’t kiss anyone, won’t pretend to date someone on screen, won’t even let another actor take over his role for the scenes he doesn’t want to do. His reason? He’s completely loyal to his husband.

Everyone thinks it’s stupid, obviously. You aren’t “cheating” by pretending to love someone else, it’s literally your job! Luo Binghe still refuses and says even he’s not good enough an actor to make anyone believe he could ever love someone other than Yuan-ge.

His fans hate this mysterious Yuan-ge. Because of his (probably insecure and jealous) spouse, all of Binghe’s fangirls cant see him sweep some y/n character off their feet. It’s even worse because they don’t know anything about this guy. Whenever someone asks to see or learn about Binghe’s husband, the star says he’ll never reveal Yuan-ge to the public, because he’s too beautiful and he doesn’t want everyone falling in love with him. 

People kind of run with the idea that obviously this guy must be a total weirdo who Binghe is embarrassed to be seen with. That has to be the explanation, because no matter how perfect someone is, how can they have such a chokehold on THE LUO BINGHE??

Then, one day, years after Luo Binghe’s initial rise to fame…. He goes on a talkshow. With his husband Shen Yuan. 

Obviously EVERYONE tunes in. No one uses TVs anymore bc of the internet, but just for this show, viewer ratings are the highest theyve ever been. Everyone wants to know what the fuss is all about with this guy to have Luo Binghe so down horrible. 

And Shen Yuan isn’t a weirdo. He’s also not some pretty yesman. He makes jokes that make the audience burst into laughter. He’s opinionated, which is really refreshing when every other celebrity stays neutral on every topic to avoid losing fans. He’s polite, but he’s not a pushover. He’s likeable, but he’s not a try-hard about it. Referencing memes makes him an instant hit with the younger generations, and the calm gentle way he talks makes him a hit with the older ones. All of a sudden everyone is going, okay we see why Luo Binghe is obsessed with him. 

Except… while shen yuan was making jokes and charming everyone, Luo Binghe was at his side, pathetically pawing at his husband for attention. The actor keeps whining every two minutes to be reassured yuan-ge still likes him. Whenever Shen Yuan compliments the host, Binghe looks like he’s about to cry. Whenever Luo Binghe jealously wraps his arms around shen Yuan everyone watching just rolls their eyes. Seeing them together people realize… shen yuan is the one that’s out of Luo Binghe’s league.

In just one hour public opinion goes from ‘no one can be worth binghe acting like that for’ to ‘luo binghe is so annoying, let shen yuan talk!!’ 

The next day someone finds shen yuan’s twitter and it blows up. He has his own fan pages now. There’s no pictures of him online other than the footage from the talkshow, so the fan accounts just post that over and over again. Shen yuan retweets a post about him with the caption “i never realized she was holding a plate of corn in this scene” and everyone loses their mind. Everything he says immediately goes viral bc that’s luo binghe’s attic wife.

People start nagging Binghe to post about Shen Yuan bc theyre so attached after his one and only publicized appearance. Binghe is super possessive, but yuan-ge tells him not to worry, so he relents and posts pictures of him and shen yuan on vacation. They’re together, holding hands… but shen yuan’s face and body are blurred out. It’s HORRIFYING. He looks like an eldritch monster bc luo binghe refuses to let anyone look at his yuan-ge in a swim suit, go away you perverts!! His instragram is now just full of pics of shen yuan where his eyes are blacked out so noone else can see how pretty they are. It’s nightmare fuel

Shen Yuan is unfortunately too unbothered to post pictures of himself. Everyone’s tired of Luo Binghe for “hogging shen yuan all to himself” when Shen Yuan is practically an internet celebrity now. 

People go to watch movies and their theatre conversations sound like this:

“Oh, Luo Binghe’s in this one!”

“Who?”

“You know Shen Yuan’s annoying husband?”

“OH THAT GUY..”

[fastandcarlos]

"Uncle Charles?" : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: for the first time charles feels as if he's part of your family, all thanks to your car obsessed niece

Your hand waved into the air as you noticed Charles appear in your parents’ garden, dressed still in bright red Ferrari after finishing for the day. There were children running around everywhere as you celebrated your niece’s birthday, with Charles appearing at the end of the day. 

Despite you assuring Charles that he didn’t need to worry about attending, he was adamant he was going to make the time. When he appeared, your family were more than surprised, knowing just how busy Charles had been as the start of the new season loomed. 

As Charles made his way over to you though, he was intercepted by a voice calling out his name, a figure running across and leaping up into his arms. Charles stumbled back as your niece leapt up and gave him a hug, her arms going tightly around his neck as Charles held onto her waist, carrying her over to where you sat. 

“Happy birthday cherie,” Charles grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You look like you’re having a good time,” he added, taking a look around the garden. 

“I was waiting for you to arrive,” she excitedly told him. 

As Charles sat down beside you, he placed your niece back onto the ground, but she refused to let him go. With her still holding on, he leant across and pressed a kiss to your cheek to try and greet you, but your niece was having none of it. 

“Did training go well?” You asked, unable to hold back your laughter as your niece invited herself to sit up in Charles’ lap, ignoring her friends who were calling for her to play with them. 

The bond that Charles had with your niece had always been close ever since they first met. He was beyond amazing with her, which your sister was particularly a big fan of, finding herself getting giddy whenever Charles was around, never quite being able to leave him alone for too long. 

“Yeah, for once, it actually went pretty well,” Charles smiled, his voice filled with relief after what could only be described as a tricky build into the preseason preparations. 

As he sat with your family though, he was reminded about what was important. As much as he wanted the car to do well, what mattered the most was the people around him, particularly the little one in his lap who was over the moon to be able to spend her birthday with him. 

“I’m happy that you managed to make it here though,” you told him, keeping your eyes on your niece, “and I think I know someone else who is pretty happy to have you here too.” 

If he was honest, Charles wouldn’t have missed it for the world, although your niece wasn’t on his side of the family, he still absolutely adored her. He wasn’t blind to how close they were too, knowing that she was counting on him to show up for her. 

“What’s been the highlight of your day princess?” Charles asked as your niece shifted to look up at him, her hands cupping against his cheeks. “There’s got to be one present that you can’t wait to show me later on tonight.” 

Her head nodded, turning round to face Charles properly again. “My favourite present is your present that you bought me,” she proudly told him, recalling the Ferrari car that you’d bought her, well, a child sized one at least. 

Charles’ smile turned up as she spoke, “I had a feeling that you’d like it. Maybe I can try and get some Ferrari clothes for you so that you can look the part too.” 

Your niece nodded instantly, “I want to be just like Uncle Charles, that would be awesome.” 

Your eyes flickered across to Charles, making sure that he was listening to. A gasp came from him, his eyes lighting up as he took a moment to make sure that he wasn’t just dreaming what he had heard. 

“Want to be like who?” Charles asked her, wanting to hear it one more time to make sure that he was correct. “Who is it that you want to be the same as?” 

“Uncle Charles,” she giggled, “I want to be able to drive really fast when I’m older and drive all of the cool cars.” 

“Uncle Charles,” Charles whispered to himself, “well, that’s pretty cool.” 

You reached across and pressed your hand against Charles’ shoulder to try and keep him together, sensing that he was feeling slightly overwhelmed. Your niece was unaware of what she had done, but hearing her finally call him uncle meant more to Charles then he could ever express. 

“I’m going to go and ask mummy if I can play with the car soon,” your niece told you both, climbing out of Charles’ lap. “I want you to show me how to do it before you go home so I can be as fast as you.” 

Charles helped her down before shifting his body to look around at you, letting go of a chuckle of disbelief. You smiled widely across at him, nudging against Charles’ arm gently. 

“You must be pretty important for her to call you uncle,” you told him, brushing your hand through his hair. “She absolutely adores you Charles, apparently you’ve got your own mini me in the future already too.” 

“She’s a good kid,” Charles hummed, still slightly in disbelief. “I’m trying to be chill about this, but inside my heart is absolutely racing right now.” 

You could tell from the look in his eyes that it meant the world to Charles, your family were all special to him, but the children in your family were a little more. He loved being around them, entertaining them and making them smile, which he seemed to do perfectly. 

“It sounds like I’ve got to find a pretty good present for next year too,” he chuckled, “do you think your sister might hate me for buying her a Ferrari?” 

“I dread to think the state her house will be in soon,” you sniggered. 

As guilty as Charles wanted to feel, seeing how excited your niece was about her gift made it all worth it for him. “I might have to go and apologise otherwise she’ll never speak to me again.” 

“Well, you’ve definitely won the competition for best present this year,” you joked, slipping your hand into his. “She won’t be mad at you for too long anyway, she adores you, my whole family do to be honest.” 

“They’re awesome,” Charles encouraged, “I’ve never known a group of people to make me feel so welcome in my life, I feel like I’ve always been here with you guys.” 

“Now you’ve got no choice but to be stuck with us too.” 

“I’m not complaining,” Charles noted, pulling you up from where you sat, twirling you around and letting you fall into his lap. Charles’ arms wrapped around your frame, allowing you to replace your niece in his hold. 

“Seems you’ve got a future as a driver coach too.” 

Charles’ head shook, unable to hide his excitement, knowing that over the next few days whilst he was home he’d be out playing with your niece, showing her the ropes of the new car that he’d bought her. 

“How does it feel to officially be an uncle?” You grinned, pressing a kiss against Charles’ cheek. 

“It feels pretty special indeed.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[ohhowjooniewept]

ex childhood best friend jungkook x y/n

angst, fluff, smut

living in a small town, secluded from the majority of other neighbouring cities was a life most couldn’t handle. it involved everyone knowing each other, secrets, and a rigid routine - a sense of day to day normalcy that felt more manufactured if anything. you had lived here since birth, much to your disdain, and you wanted nothing else than to just pack up and leave. to never see anyone ever again. to never see him again.

you were a quiet person by nature, reserved by choice. knowing everyone meant you had to be cordial regardless of your true feelings, and lord knew you had many opinions about the people you shared the same streets and establishments with. the only people you loved, entirely, were yoongi and yejin - the dark haired twins who had moved here five years ago. they didn’t talk much, and certainly didn’t delve into why they would move to such a secluded place. you didn’t pry, there were too many people here seeking secrets already.

the town was mostly run and governed by 6 families, all with different abilities and power. they, in turn, were managed by one single individual - hyunki jeon. they were all relatively nice, genuinely - not the sickly fake sort that you had been used to all your life. the older man, however, was known for his stoicism, always unfeeling and certainly not kind. their sons were around your age, and though you chose to stick to the twins, you had conversed with namjoon and taehyung a few times and found them to be lovely. it was jungkook, however, who made you raise your guard.

once all dimples and sparkly eyes; the tatted boy was an anomaly. people like him didn’t live in places like this, half rage and half silence. you knew him, once, when you were young. friendship was once defined to you with an 8 letter name, as the boy brought you such joy. you were inseparable, and his parents held a fondness for you that you were sure they didn’t hold for many. his grandfather did not share the same sentiments - it was clear to all he found you to be unworthy, the fact you loitered in his home and ate his food whilst being from such a lowly family disgusted him. you were a child, in need of love and affection, two things jungkook and his parents offered in absence of your own mother and father. he did not like this. but no matter, it all meant nothing in the end.

you both turned twelve, only a few days apart, and you’d shown up at your usual hang out spot to actually celebrate together. you brought a handmade gift, hats and a little cake you spent time baking yourself, excited to show him. you had planned this together for months and months and months; the excitement was palpable. only, he didn’t show.

you’d spent an hour waiting, at first worried due to his lateness. he was always early, always. you waited another hour in hope, and another hour after that in confusion. four hours in, you stupidly realised he had no intention of coming down but yet, your heart still quickened in worry. after you packed everything up, you took a quick walk to his home, sat on the end of the street you lived on, wrapping your knuckles on the door.

the door swung open to reveal jungkook who’s eyes held a swirl of guilt you couldn’t quite place. he simply stood, both unmoving and quiet. you noticed his face seemed blotchy, as though he had been crying and the shake of his hands were clear to you.

“are..are you okay? thought we were gonna celebrate.” you asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“you should go home, y/n.” he replied, cold and stiff. your eyebrows furrowed even further as a frown appeared.

“is today not a good day? i’ve been waiting for a while, you could have told me.” you mumbled. you felt so confused. “i made you a cake.”

he watched as you revealed it, showing it to him with a glimmer of hope.

“i told you to go home.” he repeated, voice raising. “i don’t want your stupid cake, i don’t want to celebrate your stupid birthday and i don’t want to hang out with stupid you!”

your face was distraught, no doubt. you felt as though someone had punched you in the stomach, your best friend, your only repose in this horrible town, telling you to leave him alone and over what? what did you do? what had you done? being only twelve, you could feel your lip quivering and your eyes beginning to water.

“why are you being so mean?” you asked, hands shaking around the little cake tin. “i don’t get what’s happening, why..what did i do?”

he didn’t respond, your eyes meeting his to find his own unshed tears beginning to stream down his face. “we aren’t friends anymore, y/n. so please just leave me alone. don’t come here again.”

he stepped back before slamming the door shut in your face. little, newly twelve year old you stood, legs shaking in your pretty dress as sobs began to wrack your body. you left the cake tin at the door before grabbing the rest of your stuff and running home, tears ruining your vision.

you cried for months, not that anyone was there to care or listen. two absent parents and no siblings or cousins, no one really bothered to check in on you. all you had was jungkook, and he knew it and yet still pushed you to the side as though you meant nothing to him. as though the days you’d spend having family dinners at his house meant nothing, or the days you’d spend hours and hours and hours strolling through the forest and park just talking and enjoying each other’s presence.

jungkook, your only friend and the boy you fell in love with each passing spring, was also the boy who broke your heart. you’d never forget it, and you certainly weren’t ready to forgive.

——

“want to get a burger?” yoongi asked, hand running through his already messy hair.

the boy had shown up out of the blue, as he often did, at your house with no more than a food craving and a quiet grin.

you rolled your eyes before turning back around into the house. “yeah, let me put some concealer on first. i’ve been rotting away all day.”

he chuckled, stepping in behind you before closing the door. “what, parents not in?” you hummed, walking to your room. “are they ever?”

“touché. you know you can stay at mine, right? know you don’t like being here alone, yejin’s been saying you can share her room.”

you looked at him through your mirror, with a warm smile as you dabbed your makeup. “i know yoongs, love you both forever.”

he grinned again, stretching his arms before heading downstairs, waiting for you outside. after ten minutes, and a little walk, you stood in front of the old diner that had been here long before you were ever born. the decor was chipping and peeling, the seats uncomfortable but the staff were warm and sweet.

“there you guys are! what took you so long.” yejin grumbled, embracing you in a tight hug. “haven’t seen you in like a week, which is practically a millennia in this town. you good?”

“yeah, don’t worry. just didn’t feel to good; don’t want to spread anything.” you laughed, arm around her waist while yoongi wrapped an arm around your shoulders, walking towards your usual booth.

you slid in, yejin following and yoongi sitting in front as you watched your waitress come forward. you all ordered your usual cheeseburgers and milkshakes before giggling and chattering quietly as per usual. you never grew tired of the twins, they were your only joy in both this town and world - wherever they went, you wanted to follow and you knew they felt the same.

“i can’t be bothered going to the council meeting tonight.” yoongi groaned, head falling to the table with a quiet thump. “same old shit every single time. remember to clean the streets, report anything you see, bla bla bla.”

you grinned. “yeah, maybe they should get you up on that podium, hm? you seem to know the dialogue too well.”

he grimaced at you, before yejin shook her head. “i don’t know, i was getting groceries earlier and you know the lady that lives two streets down from the forest? the one with the cute gate?” you both nodded. “i overheard her chatting and i think something’s happened. i can’t imagine it’s anything too crazy, but she seemed to be fishing for something.” yejin muttered through bites.

“someone’s always fishing for secrets in this bastard place.” you frowned.

the toil of the bell on the door rang loudly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up, lost in your thoughts. yoongi was playing with his food whilst yejin whispered some more gossip she overheard, making you all giggle absentmindedly.

“y/n?” you looked up, the sound of someone calling you gently pulling you out of your trance before you saw a familiar smile. jin.

you had spoken to him a few times, nothing extreme and certainly no long conversations or anything. he still went out of his way to say hello and give you a greeting whenever he’d see you, and your friends too. despite being from the eldest family of the 6, he was arguably the politest out of all of their children - known in town for being a sweet soul.

“hi!” you grinned softly up at him.

“sorry. this is so rude of me, i hope i’m not interrupting.” he flushed pink, eyes flickering to yejin who openly stared up at him with a tilt of her head. “not at all.” she answered for you, smoothly.

his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before turning to you with a slight gulp. “could..could i just grab you for a moment? just need to speak privately with you.”

you hardly noticed his group of friends walking past him to a table a few seats down from yours, your eyes furrowing. you simply nodded, climbing over yejin to get out of the booth before following him outside. this was odd, you didn’t really have an established relationship with the guy so you were slightly uncomfortable, in all honesty.

“firstly, let me just apologise.” he began, nervously chuckling while shifting from foot to foot. “this isn’t something i usually do and i’m embarrassed but just wanna do this right, you know?”

you nodded, somewhat reassuringly which made him grin. “yejin..i really like her. i want to approach her but i get nervous and i’m so scared of embarrassing myself, which i think i’m doing right now actually.” his eyebrows furrowed.

you couldn’t help the soft smile that began to form on your lips. you knew your best friend would probably jump up and down screaming if she was privy to this information, considering she wouldn’t shut up about how handsome the tall boy was.

“jin, believe me when i say i think you’ll be okay.” you promised. “and she’s really easy to talk to, have you tried?”

he nodded, grinning back at you, relieved at your reassurance. “you think so? i tried the other week, you guys were at the park but, i couldn’t bring myself to come over, psyched myself out and i’m pretty sure yoongi noticed me going back and forth so..”

you laughed. “listen, just approach her. try catch her alone, even? she’d really like that, promise.”

he let out a short laugh. “i sound like a schoolboy, sorry to put this on you.” you shook your head, reaching out to pat this arm. “this is so cute, i’m happy you came to me.”

“i’ll let you get back to them, sorry again for taking your time. oh!” he stopped, turning to you again. “you’ll be attending the towns meeting right?”

you nodded, shuffling in your spot. “yeah, my parents aren’t..they’re not here so. i’ll go.”

it embarrassed you to your core knowing your parents were the way they were. abusive when around, which was rare these days - but that meant the burden of representing your family always fell on you. you hated it, couldn’t stand the pity looks and the murmurs people would share.

“i’ll see you there, then!” he simply assured, not an ounce of anything other than genuine niceness. “a few of us are getting drinks after, if you’re all down, i’d love for you guys to come.”

“yeah, i’ll let them know.”

soon, you were headed inside again. he thanked you again before moving to his table and you to yours, sliding in next to yoongi this time with a small grin over at yejin, who secretly had an inkling of what the conversation was about but didn’t pry.

you informed them on the offer to which yoongi shrugged. “could be fun, why not? i heard hoseok has a studio in his house and i have some questions i’ve wanted to ask for a while.”

“wow, yoongs. when people meet others for the first time, they usually extend a casual greeting.” yejin scoffed, eating the fries from his plate. “but yeah, let’s go, it could be fun.”

you grinned at her as yoongi laughed, stealing his plate back away from her. your eyes naturally drifted to behind yejin, where jin and his friends sat, your eyes casually flickering over all of them before they fell on him.

brown eyes were already watching you. your breath hitched slightly as you made eye contact with the boy that once ignited every emotion in your body to the surface, the boy that for some reason, was still able to. your throat bobbed, unable to look away for a few seconds before doing so, blinking rapidly to rid yourself of him in your brain; a futile attempt of building your walls up again. a single look was able to undo you - you had no idea it did worse to him.

jungkook, the boy that broke your heart, sat next to jin, appetite lost and throat constricting. you looked so beautiful today, he thought, though you always did - you were so good at making yourself smaller and unassuming wherever you went in town but he always managed to find you, to look at you. to really see you. he thought of you everyday, longed and yearned for you. it was all going to end today.

today, the time had finally come. he was free, and he was going to get his girl back.

——

the meeting had begun ten minutes ago and yet the overall atmosphere was off. everyone seemed rather unsettled, and frankly, it was clear that yejin’s earlier mention of something going on was actual fact.

after a few more minutes, the stage podium began to be surrounded by the jeon family. jungkook stood beside his mother, with a hand on her back and and one on his father’s too in clear assurance as the latter began speaking into the microphone. they looked exhausted, and despite your feelings for the boy, you felt a pang of worry. his parents had never shown anything but pure kindness to you, even after your friendship break up with jungkook - though they didn’t know the reason, alongside yourself, they didn’t treat you any different. his mother would drop off meals to your house, cookies and sweets whilst his dad personally paid for all of your after school clubs, and made sure your tutoring and hobbies were well nurtured. they loved you like their own, so were confused at the sudden distance between you and their son.

“thank you all for coming today. i wish this could be on better circumstances.” the older man began. “i regret to inform you of the passing of my father, hyunki jeon. he passed peacefully two nights ago surrounded by family. we ask for both your respect and discretion during this time.”

silence filled the room, everyone looking at one another. your eyes flickered to the tall, tatted man, standing tall and strong for his parents, only to notice his eyes already on you. you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, your chest rising and falling.

everytime you had seen jungkook over the years, you noticed how quiet he was. it was unsettling, the once bright boy so purposefully silent - but it was the look of anger that radiated from him that really shook you. he just seemed so on edge all the time, every council meeting, every time he was out with his friends - you noticed jimin, the candy haired boy, would often pat his back in comfort. though it didn’t alleviate the pain he caused you, you still had empathy for the sweet boy who once loved you as much as you loved him. you just wondered if he existed anymore.

even now, with eyes unmoving, you watched as he took in a deep breath, blinking slowly at you before forcibly looking away, and towards his mother who gently held his hand. she noticed his gaze your way, and offered a sad smile to which you quickly reciprocated.

“that was not what i was expecting.” yejin whispered, between you and yoongi. he nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “can’t say i’m too upset, he was a horrible man.”

you couldn’t bring yourself to really say anything, you had met the man’s cruelty personally years ago and it still made you shiver. your eyes flickered between the three people on stage, and though they looked exhausted and appropriately sympathetic, none looked overtly upset. no one was crying, nor distraught. people came up to extend their sadness, and they expressed their gratitude but again - they didn’t look like a family that had just lost a patriarch.

soon, you too rose, waiting your turn to wish your best wishes. yoongi and yejin had gone before you, extending polite exchanges, watching as they stepped to the side to let you forward.

upon sight of you, jungkook’s mother let out a little noise before stepping forward and wrapping you in her arms tightly. “oh my darling girl, i haven’t seen you all week, are you alright?”

your cheeks flushed pink, she usually dropped food off at your job as much as she could, considering you worked so close to her home. “I’m okay, just been sick. i’m so sorry for your loss.” your eyes turned to his father who also pulled you into an embrace. “thank you, sweetheart. don’t stress your head.” he cooed.

jungkook stood beside them. you pulled away, your eyes turning to him with a small frown. “sorry for your loss.” you murmured, shuffling.

“thank you, y/n. that’s very kind of you.” he responded, voice deep and fingers twitching. you simply nodded, lump in your throat at the intensity of his gaze before giving his parents one last small smile, turning to your friends and walking away.

“i know you hate him, but i very much think he wants you.” yoongi teased, with a giggling yejin circling around you outside. you scoffed, pushing his arm. “no he doesn’t. he made that very, very clear.”

“hm, i don’t know. i noticed him earlier in the diner, staring you down and when we were sat in the hall. he’s been pretty bold today, what’s changed?” yoongi questioned, rubbing his arm. “yeah, i noticed earlier when you and jin were talking outside, he was watching you guys, seemed a bit annoyed.” his sister continued, giggling away.

“you guys are genuinely insane.” you grumbled. “conspiracy theories won’t change anything.”

two seconds later, jin walked over, same grin on his face with two of his friends in tow. hoseok and jimin.

“hi! we’re getting drinks down at the bar, you guys still up to join?” he asked, nervously, eyes flickering between you all but mainly on yejin.

“depends..” she hummed, head tilting. “my drinks on you, jinnie.”

you watched as he nodded, trailing after her as she walked away forcing a laugh out of you and a grumble out of yoongi. hoseok and jimin walked closer to you, properly introducing themselves. yoongi’s sour mood improved in mere seconds once he began asking his questions to the younger boy, only for him to answer them with equal keenness.

“i’ve noticed you around a few times, sorry i haven’t introduced myself sooner.” jimin laughed, watching the two as you began stepping toe to toe. “that’s alright, everyone knows each other here anyway, no need for introductions.” you responded, prompting him to laugh even more.

“i get the sense you don’t like it here very much.” he questioned, cheekily.

“do you?” you asked, grin forming. you liked him already, all smiles and crinkled eyes. “because from where i’m standing, i don’t think there’s much to like about this place.”

“touché. can’t say i don’t agree with you, so why don’t you leave?” he asked, suddenly curious. “is it your boyfriend?”

you began coughing suddenly, eyes widening as you looked at him in pure shock. “boyfriend?”

“is he not? am i confused?” he matches your confusion, his own eyes widening.

“definitely, definitely not. pretty sure he doesn’t bat for women, so.” you shook your head, a blush on your cheeks.

“huh. all this time, jungkook’ll be pleased to hear that.”

your blood ran cold, your eyes flickering to the cheeky boy once more as you walked towards the bar. “what do you mean?”

he grinned, nice and wide before opening the door to the bar for you, wiggling his eyebrows. “oh nothing!”

before you could even begin questioning the boy, yejin called you over. you were sure your face was showcasing a million different emotions, but by the time your legs carried you over to the large bar, you noticed that it was mainly jin’s friends AKA the founding families’ sons. your eyebrows furrowed even more once you watched jungkook walk through the doors.

everyone seemed so cheery. even the tall tatted boy who surely should be in some sort of mourning, seemed much more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. his air of anger and quiet demeanour replaced by something that resembled peace.

“time to drink!” namjoon shouted at out, making everyone cheer. yoongi came up beside you, both of you unaware of jimin mumbling something in jungkook’s ear just behind you.

“not to be that person, but this is..” yoongi quietly whispered. “odd.” you finished for him.

“i can answer that for you.” someone wrapped their arms around you from behind, the stentch of both tequila and vodka swimming in the air. “tonight, we fucking celebrate.” taehyung laughed loudly, between you both, arms caging you both in by your shoulders.

yoongi’s face was priceless, both alarmed and curious. “uh..what exactly?”

“we celebrate because he’s dead. that bastard finally fucked off and took his blackmailing with him.” he grinned with a squeal, twirling around in front of you all before jumping behind the bar alongside the bartender, popping his hip. “so, i expect you all to get drunk, and cheer as much as you can. want him to hear us from beyond the grave.”

you felt slightly uncomfortable and frankly out of place. yoongi, yejin and yourself shared confused glances before the former was taken away by hoseok, no doubt to redirect the conversation to their shared interest in music and the latter’s attention taken by the tall haired boy who had bought her a drink. you stood, shuffling from foot to foot before taking a seat.

“two beers.” a voice behind you called to the bartender who nodded immediately. you didn’t have to turn to see who it was, but you simply ignored it, assuming he wasn’t taking to you.

once the beers were pushed forward, you watched as he stood beside you, taking a hold of one before sliding the other towards you. you gawked at him, confused. “drink.”

“w-what?”

he didn’t respond, simply drinking his beer with a deep rumble in his chest. you frowned up at him before childishly pushing the drink back at him, turning your back to him before catching the bartenders attention to order something else.

jungkook’s jaw twitched. he understood, of course he did, but you didn’t.

“i think we should talk.” he calmly said, swiping his card for your drink before you could protest.

you scoffed, frown deepening. “i don’t have anything to say to you, jungkook.”

“i know, baby, but i’m gonna need you to look at me, please?”

your breath hitched, baby? that was new, and you could feel something locked and hidden away force its way to the surface in your stomach. you hated that you liked it, hated that it made you pool between your legs.

you nibbled on your bottom lip. your hands were beginning to shake again, a tick that only amplified when you were in anxiety inducing situations and you were pretty sure nothing could get you as nervous as the situation you were currently in.

“5 minutes? i know i don’t deserve your time but i swear i’ll make it worth it.” he all but begged making you exhale deeply before your eyes flickered over to him slowly.

his hair, slightly messy, outfit all black to signify his mourning. although he looked anything but a mourner - frankly, he looked downright sinful and it made your head swim.

“2 minutes. that’s all you get, and then you go back to leaving me alone.” you hissed at him, sliding off of your stool before looking away, waiting for him to lead away.

you missed the way his jaw ticked, before nodding, doing exactly that. his long legs guided you to a quiet room beside the bar, both yoongi and yejin watching you carefully. the latter grabbed your arm before you could walk on, eyes narrowing suspiciously at jungkook. “call us if you need us, hm?”

you nodded, before catching up to jungkook. he closed the door behind you, watching as you sat on a chair. the room was relatively bare, a big table in the middle where no doubt the governing body often came. you felt slightly out of place but you couldn’t pass up this opportunity out of pure curiosity.

jungkook pulled a seat out beside you, sitting down. it surprised you slightly, you expected him to sit opposite you, or even assert himself by sitting at the top of the table but this? interesting.

you both made eye contact, unspeaking for a moment as he simply let his eyes run over your face. you could feel your cheeks heat without your will, breaking the silence immediately. “1 minute and a half left.”

he couldn’t help the little grin that formed and you couldn’t help but admire it. stupid.

“firstly, i need to apologise to you. i know it’s been years and years, but i’ve wanted..needed to tell you that.” he murmured, eyes never leaving your own. “i know i hurt you that day, but i need you to understand i was trying to protect you, i had reasons and i knew it was the only way you would listen to me. doesn’t make it fair and definitely doesn’t make it okay, but i couldn’t lose you any further than i had to y/n.”

your throat bobbed. “what reasons?” you whispered out, unsure of how to take his apology. in response, you watched as he looked away, jaw ticking as though he had no intention of answering you.

your eyebrows furrowed. you could feel a semblance of anger growing inside of your chest and clawing at your throat. “you don’t get to come here and give me an apology for something that broke me and then tell me oh i had my reasons. if you don’t plan on sharing them, you’ve wasted my time.” you spat out, standing up to walk away.

his hands reached out, taking a hold of your hips, fingers flexing gently against your body before ushering you to sit back down which you reluctantly did. both of you seemed slightly shaken from the physical contact.

there was a moment of silence, jungkook’s eyes closing tightly before opening again. he was clearly debating something, but as he made eye contact with you again, he knew he had to. “my grandfather.” he whispered.

“what about him?” you asked, carefully. the man had just died and no matter your opinion, he was family to jungkook and you were too empathetic to bring your own emotions into it.

“i’m glad he’s dead. makes me free. makes us all free.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, remembering taehyung’s outburst from earlier.

“what do you mean?” you whispered back, confused.

his jaw ticked at the memory swirling in his head, hands shuffling. you noticed he began getting lost in his thoughts and they were increasingly making him uncomfortable, forcing him to shift. “he didn’t like you. thought you were a distraction to me, and therefore you got on his list of people to exterminate.” he simply replied. “he hated my dad for marrying my mum, made our lives a fucking hell every chance he got knowing he had power and then realised one day that all of this, this bastard fucking town could be mine instead of his.”

you were sure your face was showcasing a million emotions, your heart clenching deeply. you knew he was a horrid man, but to extend his abuse to his family was incomparable.

“you’d come over for dinner, and i swear my parents love you so much, y/n..” he sighed out, hands running through his hair. “mum would get excited over buying stuff to decorate the table with, she’s always wanted a girl but after me, she wasn’t comfortable with bringing another child into the hellhole that fucker was causing, knew he’d give her hell too.”

you gulped.

“little things you know? he’d get annoyed you were round, annoyed you were eating in a house he said he had a claim in. he didn’t even fucking live there, but logic didn’t matter. then..then he’d get violent, usually to my dad. my mum would hide away, take me with her but he’d always find us too, you know? couldn’t say anything cause he knows all these people, has connections, money buys everything.”

his hands were shaking a little harder, and for the first time in years, you found yourself reaching over, taking one in your hand whilst they rested in his lap, wide eyes meeting yours. you said nothing, simply allowing him to continue whilst you comforted him.

“he knew you made me happy, made fun of me for liking you so much. said he wouldn’t let me make the same mistake my dad did, marrying my mum.” he spat out, jaw ticking. “we were kids, y/n, and he couldn’t stand to see me happy, see me enjoy your presence, he wanted you gone. he’d do anything, and i knew he’d go as far as he could so..”

your throat bobbed.

“so i did what i did. i hated myself so much, y/n, but i convinced myself that this would save you, and it did. he’s left you alone for so long because he thought i didn’t care anymore.” he gulped, turning your hand over so he was now the one caressing it. “but he’s wrong. all i ever think about is you, my mind is plagued and all i can comprehend is y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n. i see you around town and i want to pull out my own hair, makes me so angry and i know it’s so selfish but i want you to myself, want to be in your arms again like when we used to under our tree in the park.” he all but whispered. “want to feel like you’re mine.”

he looked up at you, he could see the glassy dew forming in your eyes and the way your little lip trembled. his other hand shot out, thumb tracing your little lip. “knew i could never have you, not until he was dead. dreamt of him dying in so many different ways, violent and painful but even in death he gets lucky. peaceful.” he whispered, hand dropping and eyes closing. the familiar anger was back and you could see it. “he hurts us for years, and he gets to die in peace?”

his voice broke at the end of his sentence, a small and uncharacteristic whimper leaving his lips. you couldn’t think, tears streaming down your face, your hands gently twitching beside your body, desperate to reach out and comfort him but the passage of time had made you uncertain.

regardless, the intimacy of the situation charged you, sniffling as you hesitantly reached out to him. a single hand on his knee, unsure but you knew it was necessity. you remembered how much a single touch used to calm him. you knew that the pain he caused you was for something that caused him an immense amount more, that didn’t alleviate how much it hurt you but it did allow for a reason. that felt enough.

“i’m so sorry.” he whispered to you, his own hand taking yours from his knee and instead clasping it. “you don’t have to forgive me, but i promise you i’m going to be better. gonna prove it to you, hm? no one can hold me back, not anymore.”

you simply nodded through your sniffles.

after pulling away slowly, just enough so your fingers were touching. this felt oddly intimate in itself, even more so than before. “how could he do that to you? you were just a boy, you’re still just..it’s not fair, you shouldn’t apologise for doing what you felt was necessary, i’m just sorry it had to happen this way.”

you watched his eyes soften clearly at the mere mention of forgiveness, before closing and letting out a deep exhale. he reached for your hand again. “you meant the world to me then, but you have no idea what you are to me now. i’m going to relearn you, y/n, going to be a man you deserve, a man that won’t walk away but a man that’ll protect you. gonna do this properly.” he promised before pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles, sealing his promise.

——

a month had passed since jungkook’s confession and at first it felt like your entire world had shifted.

in the first following days, you cried and cried and cried. you mourned the childhood that had been stolen from you knowingly by an older man. you mourned the life jungkook and his family should have lived. more specifically, you mourned what could have been. what should have been yours and his from the beginning.

the next two weeks were what you called the baby step period. jungkook had asked for your number and you’d share a few texts, as if testing the waters, both too afraid to push the other away. it wasn’t long until that helpless feeling of infatuation for the boy returned, which made your throat bob. you were scared to bare your heart to him, you had changed so much but you knew that he had too, these two new versions of what once was weee now what occupied the hollows of your brains.

now, last week and present, jungkook went out of his way to spend as much time with you as physically possible. he had shown up at your house one day, knocked on the door despite your parents being home, for no other reason than he missed your face.

you flushed red when he told you, but he couldn’t stop staring at you. you thought he was going to kiss you, and you weren’t above admitting the fact how excited you were at the prospect. alas, disappointment came when he simply kissed your knuckles and walked away.

the next day, again, but this time he lingered. the day after, he walked into the house. today, you let him up to your room.

he walked around, examining little trinkets and pictures of you, yejin and yoongi in curiosity. it made his heart pain to see you have lived a completely separate life to him, but to see you find family in others relieved him of guilt.

“wanna know something funny?” he asked, picking up a picture of the three of you in a photo booth.

“hm?”

“used to hate yoongi.” he muttered which made you gawk. “why? how could anyone hate yoongi?”

“thought he was your boyfriend.”

you couldn’t help but laugh out loud, especially when noticing the little grin forming on his lips. “seriously, i’d get so annoyed, knew i had no right but i hope you know i was preying for the downfall of your relationship.”

“petty boy, you snooze you lose.”

he smirked, putting it down before turning over to you, tongue in his cheek. “yeah, and i don’t plan to lose.”

you felt a breathless at that, breaking eye contact before taking a seat on your bed. he had come round to watch movies, and considering you were in your cute sanrio pyjamas, you were evidently very excited. jungkook, the man who never left his house in anything other than black, was now adorned in spiderman pyjama bottoms that you had bought him and a tight t-shirt that stretched over his chest and back in a way that made your mouth water.

you slid under the covers, pulling them up a little, watching as he slid into your bed beside you. it was comical to see such a big man in your smaller bed, and it was clear he was maybe struggling due to his size.

“you don’t fit.” you simply frowned at him, his body hanging uncomfortably on the side as he looked at you with a darkened expression.

he didn’t respond, simply moving your laptop to your side table before taking a hold of you and manoeuvring you so you were now on top of him. “there.” he mumbled, looking at your wide eyes and slightly agape mouth. “rest on me. this way, we both win.”

you were sure you had died and gone to heaven. you were half embarrassed half incredibly turned on, though you had enough sense to hide those feelings before they jumped to the surface. you simply watched him tuck you into his chest, before wrapping you both up in your duvet. “comfortable?” he asked.

“yeah.” you confirmed, voice quiet and evidently shy as your bodies pressed intimately together whilst a film began to play on you laptop beside you.

you got through the first half hour easily, or so you say. you couldn’t help but snuggle deeper into his chest which he clearly enjoyed from the way he had his hand rubbing over your head and hair, breathing in your scent. this was affecting him in a way that you couldn’t even begin to unravel. as the film progressed, a steamier scene began to play causing you to shift slightly against jungkook. in turn, you felt something poking your core slightly.

you froze, realising quickly what exactly you were feeling. jungkook however seemed unfazed, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your lower back, maybe lower than what was deemed appropriate. you couldn’t think, feeling him so close and intimate when you’d already been having bad thoughts that you were desperate to rid yourself of. he looked so good in this t-shirt though.

he watched you, secretly. he could see how red your cheeks were and how you were shuffling closer and closer into him, in a subconscious effort to feel him more firmly against you. he wanted to moan out at the thought alone, his pretty girl.

his hand on your back suddenly lowered further, hand over your ass as he positioned you shamelessly so both of your cores were now firmly pressed against each other. you couldn’t help the gasp, feeling him so clearly through his pyjama bottoms.

he looked down at you and you slowly peered up at him, the eye contact palpable. his free hand pushed your hair out of your face before his thumb began tracing your lip. the tension was getting higher and higher.

“pretty.” he mumbled, his thumb prodding your bottom lip. it found its way past your lips, only slightly, touching your tongue whilst staring at you darkly.

you knew your cheeks must have been pink and burning, but you couldn’t stop your core from clenching at his actions, they were so dirty and yet he was acting like they weren't. his face was inching closer to yours as he traced your tongue with his thumb, teasing you with hooded eyes and parted lips.

he slowly pulled his thumb out, tracing your bottom lip. suddenly, the loud bang of the downstairs door ensued, indicating your parents leaving the house without any warning, causing you to jump slightly in his arms whilst clutching his chest.

this made you both moan out in shock as you pushed down, your cores unconsciously grinding against each other just right to cause a pang of pleasure in your stomachs. you peered up at him through your lashes to find his eyes shut closed tightly with a tense jaw. upon opening them and finding you looking up so sweetly. fuck it.

jungkook swooped down, one hand moving to your jaw as he pressed his lips to yours, unable to wait for you to keep up, moving his lips against yours like a man starved. despite the initial shock, it didn’t take long for you to match his movements, little noises and moans leaving you as he ground his hips back into you, grunting.

the kiss was pure sin, filthy from every inch as you both erupted. this was years of tension, of unspoken apologies and stolen glances - this was the boy that had broken your heart with every intention of patching it up. you, the very object of his desires and the owner of his soul, having you in his arms was one thing but feeling you so intimately made his brain flip.

he slid his tongue into your mouth, leaving you mewling as he took time to explore you, hands trailing to your hips and grinding roughly over him. he was wasting no time, he’d yearned for a taste of you for what felt like eons and here you were, twitching and begging for more underneath him.

he flipped you over suddenly. lips began moving down your neck, pulling at your legs so they were wrapped around his waist whilst he left traces of himself all over your skin. the thought of purple skin all over your neck, a clear indicator that he had been there was enough to make him groan.

“jungkook..” you moaned out, hips lifting desperate to feel attention.

his fingers moved over your stomach, lightly dusting over your skin as he pulled your top up slightly before his fingers grazed the waistband of your shorts. he wasted no time, eyes searching yours for content, his fingers moving further upon your little nod.

the first feel of him against you was enough to make your brain short circuit, but the casual way he began rubbing circles against your clit immediately, slow but assured, drove you to let out a loud whimper.

your eyes connected, foreheads pressed against each other as he drew deliberately slow circles against your core whilst your hips rose and fell, moans filling the room and breaths mingling. every time you’d close your eyes, he’d nudge your nose, forcing you to look at him again. no matter how you felt, what you thought and what you wanted - he needed it longer. you were everything plus one, he couldn’t get you out of his mind, like a grape vine tangling in every ridge and panel.

“jungkook.” you whimpered out, already growing close. he could see the way your breaths were quickening and your hands tightening against his hair. he pulled away without a word, breath heavier than your own before hovering over you again. he grabbed your bottoms and pulled down until you were completely bare before diving in without a second thought.

he let out a loud groan at the taste of you, lips and tongue moving rapidly, a clear contrast from his touch earlier. nothing was slow about this, it was rushed and desperate - a show of his feelings clear as day. “can’t get enough of you, baby, want you all the fucking time.” he all but growled against you, tongue penetrating you before suckling on your clit.

his fingers found his way at your entrance, pushing in two as he began to pump whilst his mouth moved in tandem, groaning and grunting against you while your own moans filled the air.

you couldn’t believe this. the boy you had secretly loved, and then openly hated for so long, now head between your thighs with his mouth sucking and his fingers thrusting - you couldn’t think, could barely comprehend. the sight of him grinding into your bed to relieve himself only made you moan louder, your chest constricting.

“gonna cum for me, y/n? gonna cum on my fingers for me?” he cooed at you, a juxtaposition to the rapid movements he was indulging you in

it was only moments later you found your hips lifting, back arching and eyes closing. your breath hitched as your body began to shake, jungkook continuing his relentless pace as your high washed over you, prolonging it as much as he could.

after what felt like an eternity of bliss, you opened your eyes to see jungkook sat hovering over you, staring at your face with an expression that felt unreadable. your chest was still heaving, your fingers twitching towards him.

“my girl.” he murmured down at you, thumb moving over your lips. your heart constricted at his words. his? definitely his.

“want you.” you simply murmured out in response, pulling him over you again.

he groaned at how needy you were being, capturing your lips in a series of kisses. “yeah? want me baby?”

you couldn’t even begin to respond, watching as he too lowered his bottoms until he was bare, sliding his t-shirt off too. your hands ran over his hardened chest and abs, noticing faint scars running all over him. you selfishly couldn’t bring yourself to ask about them, but you knew why they were there or rather who had done it. one of his hands gently took a hold of yours, stopping the tracing and in turn stopping the racing of your thoughts.

he tilted your head so your eyes connected with his, watching him as he openly stared at you again. he had a habit of doing that. weeks since you had reconciled and you would catch him staring so openly, with no shame; he wanted to sear every inch of you inside his brain.

he looked away momentarily, grabbing his cock and slowly running it up and down your core. you began mewling, half from sensitivity and the other in anticipation - you’d never had anyone as big as him and the thought made your heart flutter.

slowly, he began pushing in, eyes connecting with yours once more as he leaned over you, arms caging your head in until he was fully inside of you. you were breathing heavy again, hands pathetically pawing as his chest as you fell into his trance. “so big, kookie.”

jungkook faltered at that, the nickname driving him insane, eyes closing for a moment. after a minute, you nodded up at him, legs spreading wider as you gave him the green light to start moving.

this was all he needed. he began to thrust, deep and slow, both of you moaning out loudly. he couldn’t help it, his pace almost instantly growing rougher at the mere feel of you - skin slapping on skin and breaths mingling. you felt divine.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this.” he grunted over you, his bruising pace making you mewl out, gripping his large biceps desperately. “made me go insane all these years, in your cute little outfits, hm? knew i’d make you mine one day, wouldn’t rest until you wanted me like i wanted you.” he growled.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head. having someone tell you so openly how deeply they desired you was enough to make you grow wetter by the minute, but knowing it was jungkook? your jungkook? it was enough to make you never ever want to let him go again.

“wanted you too, kook.” you whimpered in admission. “t-tried to hate you but couldn’t stop..couldn’t stop thinking about you.” you moaned loudly once he began thrusting deeper in response to your words. “yeah, baby?” he cooed, fingers clutching the sides of your hips, forcing you to take every inch.

you nodded, arms now wrapping around his neck. “just looked so good, wanted you so badly.”

his forehead fell against yours, pressing your lips in a hot and dirty kiss. it was pure filth, the way he was pounding into you whilst draping his tongue over yours, claiming you in ways no man could ever dream of doing. “you’re my girl, y/n. always have been, yeah? my fucking girl, gonna give you the world if you let me, won’t let you ever be sad again.” he growled, grunting promises. “never gonna let you go. gonna buy you a house, put a ring on your fucking finger and make you my wife forever.”

despite growing closer over the past month, you hadn’t really talked about what you were doing. you were both quite touchy, with jungkook not shying away from grabbing your waist or putting his head in the crook of your neck regardless of who he was around. it caused for many situations where you found yourself shying away from others’ questions because you simply didn’t know the answer. hearing him openly say he wanted you, in such a primal way was enough to begin the climb in your stomach.

“forever?” you whimpered out loud. “promise?”

“fuck.” jungkook groaned, practically picking up your body from the bed as he fucked into you, rough and hard. “i’m never letting you go again, baby, my sweet girl. look at you, you were made for me.”

the combination of his words, his thrusts, and the way he had your entire body caged in his much larger arms were enough to make your brain go blank. you found the coil in your stomach tightening before you could even think, your breath hitching as your orgasm washed over you.

your body twitched and shook as his pace grew rougher, moaning loudly at the feel of how tight you had gotten. he wasn’t far behind, pumping into you sloppily a few more times before he came himself, holding you tight to him as he rode out your highs.

a few moments of silence ensued. he looked down at you. your eyes were closed, chest heaving and hands shaking. you were holding onto him so adorably he swore he could have screamed.

he gently placed you back down onto the bed, hovering over you still. slowly, pulling out, he watched as his cum dripped from your core in a way that has him hardening again. “god, you’re so pretty.” he murmured, fingers gently pushing it back in despite your squirms.

he grinned down at you, before joining you and pulling you to his chest. hand running over your back as your eyes opened up, hesitantly staring up at him only to find him already looking at you, as per usual.

“i meant it, y/n..” he murmured gently, other hand tracing your face and swollen lips. “i’m going to give you it all, okay? gonna give you a ring, house, baby - whatever you fucking want. gonna spend the rest of my life servicing your every need.”

your breath hitched, core tightening. the feel of his cum oozing out of you suddenly felt so much deeper, and you knew you wanted this feeling for the rest of your life. “promise, kookie? want all of that with you.” you pouted.

he grinned. “no one can hold me back, baby. i’m here now, and i’m gonna give you the live you deserve okay? if you wanna leave this shitty place, just say the word, i’ll follow.”

———

yoongi stared at the view in front of him, half in annoyance and other in silent content.

you were all at hobi’s house, who had invited his friends alongside yourself and the twins for a night to just relax - alcohol in everyone’s hands as everyone lightly chatted in the living room, everyone sprawled around. there clearly wasn’t enough room for everyone so you all had gotten creative. for instance, you were sat on jungkook’s lap, nibbling away at a sandwich jin had made.

“you know, two months ago she hated you.” yoongi teased jungkook, whilst eating his own snacks. “so this is very interesting.”

the tatted boy couldn’t help his smirk. his jealousy had brought him to hate yoongi for a while, but now knowing his relation to you; he brought himself out of his spell. even liked him, surprisingly enough.

“can’t blame her, can you?” jungkook murmured back, fingers playing with the ends of your hair whilst you chatted over at yejin.

yoongi took a sip of his alcohol with a grimace. “yeah but it was all a lie. you know that, right?”

he looked up at the older boy, eyebrows furrowing.

“she’s always loved you. always will.” yoongi murmured. “so don’t fuck it up. you’d be surprised at what me and yejin are capable of.”

jungkook knew the two were mysterious, no one really knew where they had come from or why they’d entered such a secluded and secretive town, but in that moment it all seemed to become a little clear. “i wouldn’t dream of it.” jungkook confirmed, arm tightening around your waist with a kiss to your back.

“oh i know.” yoongi grinned. “we wouldn’t let you.” he finished, with a wink.

[narcjsistx]

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | sae, kaiser, rin, reo and isagi

plot: domestic shit because I love fluff stuff 🌷 the characters chosen seem to me to be the most "visible" with little girls... so yeah. I'm actually not very sure of the result, maybe I'll delete it sooner or later to do it again

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

— sae itoshi

If there was one thing Sae had understood since becoming a parent, it was that having two children was complicated. On one hand he was now understanding all of his mother's concerns when, as children, Rin was unmanageable

We know however that males, if brothers, are somehow a little more manageable. Females, if sisters, are not. He was the father of two girls

As much as he loved them, he agreed with you when you said it would have been better to wait a few more years. But then he looks at his girls in the face, he regrets even thinking about it a little, because he loves them too much

In his eyes he sees him and Rin when they were kids: Sayami, the eldest, looks awfully like him because of her reddish hair, but in character she is like you. Semika, the youngest, is different from him in appearance but identical in character. Sayami brings out Semika's very hidden, but existing, sociable side. The only trait that makes girls similar are those damned undereyelashes that have marked the Itoshi family for generations

“Love, when are you going to let them go?”

"No."

"Sae, we've already talked about this..."

"I said no"

"Sae."

"I already said no, Y/n.”

"Y'know, they're already 7 years old. Sooner or later it will happen..."

"Not as long as I'm alive"

...a simple child had asked Sayami if she and her sister wanted to go play with him. Sae took their hand and walked out of the park as fast as he could with his treasures

✶ Sae tries hard to talk with her little girls. In a relationship not talking, or in any case having some communication problems, can be understood... with little girls no, because they would take it as a rejection. He ALWAYS goes out of his way to talk to them as much as possible, also because he loves the moments when they come home from school and, together, they chat about what happened during the day

✶ Let's be honest, Sae doesn't have much other knowledge or passions apart soccer, which was probably imposed on him as a child. He has not the slightest intention of making any of his girls leave school: if like him they end up having to change country to follow a sport, Sae will have to be absolutely sure that they are studying at the same time. He doesn't want them to be like him, because he knows how difficult is that life

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: resting with them. Sae is often busy with his career, training and of course with his beautiful wife, but he always tries to make time in the evenings (if he's not out of town for a match) with his daughters. He likes to lie down on the bed or on the sofa, before dinner, with the girls who tell him everything exciting they did that day

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: he hides it well but LOVES when you come to watch him play. If he is normally a prodigy, in front of his daughters he must seem even better. When he scores a goal the first thing he would do is turn towards you, no celebration because it's not his style, but he would wave to his daughters who are cheering for him from the stands. Once the game is over he would ignore the interviewers, as he normally does, and simply come to you to claim his victory kiss

— kaiser micheal

Having children, whether boys or girls, was NOT in Michael's plan. I mean, how can someone who had such a complicated childhood have children? Even if he hides it, he has an enormous fear of being able to make someone of his own blood suffer, voluntarily or not, what he has experienced. He just knows that if something has to happen, it happens. And he doesn't know what fate has in store for his possible heir. He might hate his kid and disown him or her like his parents, if they can be called in that way, did with him

When he found out that he was going to become a father, and with a daughter, he seriously thought for a few moments about simply walking away. Not that he hated you, he couldn't, but it was really strange for him to think that someone of his own blood, his kid, was about to born

Kaiser can't explain how all the worries he had collapsed the moment he held Anneliese, his daughter, in his arms for the first time. Just by seeing and hearing her, he wondered how he could even remotely think that he could hypothetically hurt such a wonderful being

Anneliese quickly became the center of Kaiser's world, along of course with the beautiful mother of his little girl. It can be said that his daughter is a shameless copy of him, both in appearance and character: long, blonde hair, proud and always challenging temperament. One might doubt that she is your daughter but not that she is not Kaiser's. She is liteeerally him

...Sitting on the sofa, Anneliese is watching one of her father's old match. The assist with a teammate ends badly, but the ball returns to Kaiser's possession again and he scores a goal

“Dad, the next time you pass the ball to someone unworthy, I will be even more angry than I am now!”

"I understand, don't worry. I can't make my little girl angry again, can I?"

"Mihya, on the field you have to do what you feel, don't listen to her..."

"How can I not listen to our little girl, Schatz?"

✶ Kaiser loves to take his daughter with him everywhere: whether it's to an interview, to training or to a match, Anneliese is almost certainly with him or next to you. He loves when you and your little girl cheer for him during a match, even more if he knows that if he scores there will be your lips kissing him and the little girl's little arms hugging him. He shows a lot his family and his being a fantastic father (you tell him too, he's a little insecure about this) in front of his teammates. The emperor's family!

✶ Ness is practically the little girl's uncle. He never stopped idolizing Micheal, even more so when he discovered that now there was no longer just one Kaiser but two. Micheal is slightly jealous, he doesn't like that his daughter spends so much time with Ness... he hates seeing his Anneliese so happy with an adult other than him or her mother

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: he loves when his daughter plays with his hair, especially with the blue parts. Seeing the cerulean blue on his little girl's pale hands, as she braids it or whatever it is, makes him tender. He once dreamed of Anneliese with the exact same hair as him and he admits he wouldn't mind seeing her that way. Maybe blue tipped hair could be the Kaiser's new trademark

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: whenever you and Anneliese come to a game, the first thing he makes sure to do is that you have a seat in the VIP section. He loves seeing the stadium celebrate for him because his family is there to see him, it's something that feeds his ego. As soon as the match was over he would have you go down onto the field with him, the little girl in his arm and his other arm around your waist as he holds you close to him

— rin itoshi

In his mind Rin, the few times he imagined himself, he always saw himself as the father of a son, and nothing more. Not brothers, as much as he actually liked the idea, just a child and above all a boy. He would have been happy like that

As much as he liked the idea of ​​a possible second child, with his job he wouldn't be able to dedicate the time he knows children deserve. At the same time he doesn't want to leave all the work to you, because parenting is something that is usually done by two. One child would have been enough

He doesn't know how but at a certain point in his life, he found himself with three daughters, all of whom were no more than two years apart. At first it was just a child, your beautiful Ayaka, then suddenly Homura also appeared and finally Rika

The idea of ​​just one boy dematerialized pretty quickly. But he loves his girls so much that, when sometimes he thinks of his original idea, he curses himself: how could he deprive himself of the presence and love of his girls?

All the girls resemble him tremendously, both in character (the one before the incident with Sae) and in appearance, obviously talking about the undereyelashes signed 'Itoshi'. Ayaka, only, is the female version of her father. Homura and Rika have taken something from their mother, but Ayaka could almost resemble Sae too... well, he is her uncle after all, right?

"Dad, Rika doesn't pass the ball when she plays!"

"You can't handle it either, Homura! You can't even pass me games at home!"

"Girls, calm down"

"Learn to score on goal first, before complaining"

...The situation seemed to be calm under Rin's control, but Ayaka broke the calm by scoring a perfect goal into the net of the private home soccer field. New prodigy?

✶ Rin often thinks about what might happen if, in the future, he ever does something that could divide her daughters. He has no preference between them, but he is always terrified that he might do something wrong that could create inequalities that he doesn't want, because in a certain sense, what happened between him and Sae must not happen in another generation of the Itoshi. He bond and love between his daughters must exist forever, not deteriorate as happened with his Nii Chan

✶ He would try to get his daughters to try as many sports as possible. As much as Rin loves soccer, his choice was influenced by the fact that Sae played it... what if he was now a world champion in, idk, volleyball? NO OKAY. He simply likes to make all 3 try new things, looking for something that maybe they could dedicate themselves with passion

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: when his little girls organize themselves to do makeup on him. He's got a pretty mysterious look to maintain, but if Homura has decided that he's going to show up at practice tomorrow wearing orange nail polish, he'll show up that way. Not that he has any problem fighting anyone who has something to say against him, but no one dares. Rin loves to see them concentrate while putting on mascara or a completely disgusting shade of lipstick

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: if he knows that you are there to see him play, he will do everything to score as many goals as possible and, above all, quickly: he wants to keep his girls' expectations high. Once he scored a goal he would raise his hand to the sky, waiting for his girls to do the same thing because it has now become a gesture that only each other understands. At the end of the game the first thing he would do is go up to the stands to be with you, fuck his lukewarm teammates

— reo mikage

Looking after Nagi was like taking a pre parenting course. Nagi essentially has the needs of a child if you ignore the fact that he is 17 years old and 1.90cm tall, so Reo knows quite well what a child needs. Then, he always saw the maids in his house bring their young children to work when possible: Reo loved playing with them or picking them up, or just generally spending time with them. The idea of ​​having children, sooner or later and with a special person, has actually always interested him. He always said to himself, but in reality he hoped, that he would find the person who would love him for simply being Reo and not for his money... and then you came along!

His idea has always been of only one child because he is afraid that, sooner or later, two possible children could fight over the money of the Mikage company. Everything is unpredictable, right? So he doesn't want to risk anything

His original idea was respected. When he held Hikari for the first time he simply understood that he wouldn't be able to create, obviously with you, such a cute and perfect being again

The only similarity that links Hikari to her father is the same hair color, that strong purple. For the rest she is completely her mother, and Reo loves this even more: it's cute to see a mini version of you, but with some of his features, walking around the house. His new sweet treasure!!

"So, this... this, yes, also this... that... this"

"Reo, honey, what are you doing with that newspaper?"

"Nothing dangerous. Don't worry"

"What are you doing though? You make me curious"

"I told you not to worry, honey. Trust me."

...Reo was marking all the objects, approximately 300, in a catalog of toys and children's products. If he has money, why can't he spend it if he knows it will make his daughter happy?

✶ The first person Reo told that he was going to be a father was obviously Nagi. Let's say that at first Seishiro wasn't really believing it, but when he saw that pregnancy test... oh... yes, he definitely believed it. It often happens that Hikari stays with Nagi for days at a time, as the little girl sees him as a giant she can annoy. Reo often tells his daughter not to bother Nagi too much, but it secretly makes him laugh to see Seishiro so awkward with Hikari because he doesn't know how to handle children (himself??)

✶ If there's one thing he would never do, it would be to push Hikari into running the Mikage company once she grows up. Reo hated living his childhood with the knowledge that he already had a predetermined destiny, and he doesn't want Hikari to have the same treatment. She want to become a doctor? It will become one. She want to become a farmer? It will become one. She want to become president of the world? It will become one. He simply wants her to do what she loves

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: travel the world with his daughter or of course with you too. The money is there, and what better way is there to spend it than learning and traveling? Hikari, at less than 5 years old, had already visited half the world. Reo loves taking her to different places and seeing her reactions so amazed. His favorite will remain forever when they arrived in New York, where Hikari didn't stop smiling for a second

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: it is obvious to say that he would pay to let you have the VIP of the VIP, his girls deserve the best, right?. He would feel amazing among all his teammates knowing that his family is there for him while there is no one for them. At the end of the game he would let the cameras record him hugging you and Hikari, why would he hide all the love he has for you from the cameras?

— isagi yoichi

Isagi was relatively happy as a child: his parents loved him, he played the sport he loved, he didn't do badly at school. Everything was happy for him in his early life. The only thing he often noticed were his classmates with older or younger siblings, who yeah argued with each other, but at the same time loved each other very much. He didn't suffer from loneliness from being the only child, not that, but he was always intrigued by the concept of not being the only child in the family

Since you've been dating seriously, and even before actually, he's always thought that his future family would model what he had: loving parents, one child, two if they had the chance

When Fujiko was born there was this plan in his mind: okay, now we dedicate ourselves to her, we give her everything she needs... then, if we want, we will have another child. Both you and Yoichi were very convinced that a max of 5 years after the birth of the kid you would try again, but Fujiko filled your lives so much that you decided that only she was good for the whole life

Fujiko's appearance bears little resemblance to her father's, maybe just a few facial features. If we talk about character, however, everything changes completely: it's a kind of Isagi 2.0, the same determination coupled with a lot of kindness. We will find out later if she also has bipolar disorder on and off the field like her dad- WHO SAID THAT??

"Fujiko, why aren't there any more pencil in your pencilcase?"

"Mom, I had to give them to some friends. Otherwise they couldn't write what the teacher said"

"This kindness reminds me of someone"

"Who? Who? Who?"

"Think about it: who do you consider to be the kindest person in the world?"

"My dad!"

...doing homework with your daughter, you noticed that some things were missing. Isagi is kind, one of the kindest in the world; when you told him about it he was perplexed, because he too would have done the exact same thing... just like his little girl

✶ Having now become a professional striker, he often does not have the opportunity to spend long periods at home due to champions or special training sessions. When this happens he is happy to leave because soccer is his passion anyway, on the other hand he dies inside every time he hugs his daughter or you for the last time. He loves his family, he would like to always be with you and Fujiko because you give him courage, but he understands that always moving with him from city to city, or even from country to country, is complicated and, above all, tiring

✶ He would like to direct Fujiko towards soccer, but at the same time he knows that he cannot choose something that is actually up to her. He has the belief that Fujiko would probably be good as him, unlocking her own version of the meta vision, but he prefers to see her little girl happy with the things she has chosen and loves

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: he likes when they watch the games Isagi has already played. Television often replays reruns of recent or even old matches, and whenever Isagi is present on the field, Fujiko is the first to ask to watch them together. Yoichi enjoys seeing her so amazed by the actions on the field, commenting on anything that she doesn't understand because she rightfully doesn't know the rules of soccer. The thing that amuses him most is explaining to her who are the people he passes the ball, whether they are his friends or not, but now for Fujiko there is only Bachira with the title of dad's friend

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: the mere fact that you come to see him play is a lot for him, but since you and Fujiko once showed up wearing a jacket that said "biggest fan of number 11" on the back, he understood that he didn't it would matter if he were to be burned alive if he did it for you. Unfortunately the insults would always be there, but he would try to contain himself in front of his little girl. At the end of the game the first thing he would do is come to you and let you onto the field, making you celebrate with him

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° it was like slow motion

( sae itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — go listen to the moment i knew by taylor swift right now

♡ word count — 1.5k

♡ content — sae x fem! reader, all characters 18+, made sae friends with most characters, mention of smoking (once), bad bf! sae, it's readers birthday, reader having no "real" friends, sae forgets readers birthday AND party, angst

♡ synopsis — you looked beautiful for someone who was abandoned on their birthday by the one person you wanted there. and you weren't sure if you could take any more.

── .✦ what do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn't show?

You were never someone who asked for much.

Especially not from him.

You knew who Sae Itoshi was when you fell in love with him. 

You understood what came with dating someone whose eyes were always trained forward—on the goal, on the next game, on some impossible version of greatness only he could see.

But still, you thought you’d earned today.

Just today.

Not even all of it. Just the evening. 

Just one promise he made this morning, murmured through sleepy lips while tugging his sweatshirt on, half-focused and half-yours.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You believed him.

You always do.

The party starts at 7:00.

By 7:40, most of the people are here.

Except him.

The apartment fills with a kind of hum—music, laughter, clinking glasses—and none of it sounds like yours. 

You weave through bodies carrying trays of food and half-wilted party favors, your smile fixed and tight like a ribbon pulled too hard.

You barely hear the “Happy Birthday!”s anymore. They don’t mean much when they come from strangers—strangers who know you only as Sae’s girlfriend. 

They come because he invited them weeks ago, told them “she’s planning something chill, just show up.”

And they did.

And he didn’t.

By 8:00, you’ve checked your phone seven times.

No messages. No missed calls. No “I’m on my way.” Not even a “Sorry, I’ll be late.”

The screen dies in your hand, finally surrendering to all the anxious flicks of your thumb. You put it face-down on the kitchen counter and open a bottle of wine you were saving.

It’s a celebration, right?

It’s supposed to be.

You keep yourself busy—refilling snack bowls, cleaning up spills before they stain the rug, making small talk about games you only half-understand. 

Your dress is starting to choke you, the shoes pinching by now, but you keep moving.

If you sit down, you’ll think. 

If you think, you’ll feel. 

And if you feel…

No. Not yet.

The cake stays on the dining table.

Untouched. Intact. Like you.

Three candles, one for each year you’ve spent together. 

You thought it’d be poetic. Sweet. Maybe even romantic. 

You imagined him lighting them with that quiet smirk of his, teasing you for getting sentimental. 

You imagined him singing—badly, off-key—while holding your hand under the table.

Instead, Otoya lights a joint in your bathroom, and Karasu sings something loud and off-beat from the hallway while someone throws popcorn at him.

Your birthday is a blur of people trying their best. And none of them are him.

You laugh at jokes that don’t land. You accept hugs that feel like bandages. You nod along to stories that aren’t about you.

And still, every time someone walks in late, your heart leaps.

Maybe this time.

But the door never opens for him.

At 9:23, Rin appears beside you.

You didn’t expect him to come. He’s not the social type. But he hovers near you now, quiet and heavy like an unspoken truth.

“You okay?” he asks eventually.

You nod. It’s a lie, but it’s an easy one.

Rin doesn’t press. Just looks at the cake and then back at you.

“You want to light them now? People are waiting.”

You shake your head. “He’s not here yet.”

Rin’s eyes linger on you for a moment. You can tell he wants to say something. 

Maybe He’s not coming. 

Maybe You deserve better. 

But he doesn’t. He just steps back and lets the silence do the talking.

You wish someone would say it out loud. Just rip the bandage off.

He’s not coming.

He forgot.

He chose something else over you.

Again.

At 10:08, the party dies naturally.

Karasu helps gather the trash. 

Otoya kisses your cheek and says you still look hot for someone abandoned on her birthday. 

You laugh. It sounds hollow, but it passes for humor.

Someone tells you to save them a slice of cake. You nod, though you know you won’t. 

You can’t imagine cutting it without Sae here.

And when the last person leaves, when the apartment door finally clicks shut behind them—

You are alone.

Utterly, achingly alone.

The cake is still there. The candles, still unlit.

Your dress crumples as you sit down on the couch, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to hold something in—tears, hope, the sharp sting of understanding.

This was the one thing you asked for.

The one day.

I wouldn’t miss it for the world

You lean your head back and stare at the ceiling.

Maybe the world called louder.

At 11:43, the door opens.

You don’t look up. Not right away. You know that sound too well.

The key in the lock. The soft scrape of shoes on the mat. The sigh.

You turn your head slowly.

There he is.

Sae, in his training jacket, hair damp from a shower, duffel bag slung over his shoulder like this is any other day. Like he’s just coming back from work. Like this is normal.

His eyes sweep the room—over the mess, the balloons, the faint outline of people who were once here but are gone now.

His gaze stops on you.

Then the cake.

And you can see it. 

The moment he realizes. 

The way his shoulders fall slightly, the regret that flickers too late.

“I tried to make it,” he says.

You don’t move.

“I got held up—”

“Don’t,” you say, voice quiet, steady. “Please don’t.”

He stops mid-sentence. You can hear him swallow it down.

You stand up, slowly, the hem of your dress brushing your ankles as you do.

“I told everyone you were probably just stuck in traffic. That you’d be here. That you’d walk in at the last second like in the movies.”

You laugh under your breath, and it sounds more like a sob.

“I kept looking at the door like an idiot.”

Sae says nothing.

You look at him now—really look at him—and all you can see is a promise broken so gently it almost doesn’t leave a scar. But it does.

It will.

“I didn’t need a grand gesture,” you whisper. “I didn’t need flowers or surprises. I just… needed you to show up.”

And he didn’t.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it?

You can’t keep loving someone who keeps making you feel like this. 

Like your needs are unreasonable. 

Like your expectations are weight. 

Like your love is something optional.

You don’t cry.

Because this is the moment.

The exact moment you knew:

You’ll always be the one waiting.

And he’ll always be the one chasing something else.

The silence stretches, thick with all the things you wish he’d say but know he won’t.

Sae steps further into the room, slowly, like he knows he doesn’t belong here anymore. 

His gaze flickers again to the cake—still untouched, still waiting—and he opens his mouth.

“Traffic—”

Your eyes close.

“Training ran late—”

A breath escapes you, heavy and trembling.

“Coach just—”

“Sae.”

Your voice stops him like a wall.

You lift your head and meet his eyes, mascara slightly smudged beneath your lashes, your gaze glassy, distant, and unbearably tired.

“I just want the truth.”

For a moment, he looks at you like he wants to give it.

And then, quietly—so softly you almost miss it—he says:

“...I forgot.”

And your world splits open.

You don’t flinch, don’t scream. 

There’s no dramatic breakdown. Just the softest, stillest silence—so loud it rings in your ears. 

Because you knew, didn’t you? 

Somewhere deep down, buried beneath all your hopeful excuses and quiet reassurances.

You knew.

But hearing it—hearing him say it, standing in the wreckage of your birthday, the only day you asked for—

It guts you.

Like a knife twisted slowly.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he breathes out, reaching toward you like that means something now.

You shake your head.

“No,” you whisper. “It’s fine, just… just—”

Your voice catches, and you swallow it down.

You look at him then, really look.

For a split second, it’s like the years rewind. 

Like you see the boy who used to text you after every game, who kissed your forehead before long flights, who held your pinky like it was sacred.

Apologetic.

Meaning it.

In love with you too.

But it’s not enough.

Not anymore.

You step back.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

He stares at you, eyes wide. “What—?”

“And in the morning…” Your voice cracks, a choked whisper. “I’m leaving.”

Something in him breaks. 

You see it. You feel it. 

He moves forward again, reaching like he could hold you here with his hands alone.

“No. Please, I—”

“I can’t…” you say, tears finally slipping down your cheeks. “I can’t keep waiting for you, Sae. I won’t.”

It’s not just about tonight.

It’s about every time he made you feel like you were asking for too much when all you wanted was him.

You step past him, slow and quiet, and disappear down the hall, leaving him in the soft wreckage of what could’ve been.

He stays in the kitchen for a long time, unmoving, staring at the cake with three unlit candles.

Outside, the city keeps moving.

Inside, all that’s left is a silence that tastes like regret.

airy write sae a happy fic for once challenge GO!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated

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⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[wttcsms]

yoichi isagi is a known menace on the field. it's jarring for some of his newer teammates and competitors to see what a genuinely nice guy he is when he's off the field, and a young new member on his team can't seem to believe the "rumors" of isagi's foul mouth and monstrous ego on the field.

especially not when isagi is grinning at a video on his phone.

"what's he keep watching?" the young player asks, and kunigami only answers once he's finished with pulling his jersey over his head.

"huh? oh, isagi? go ahead and ask him."

the rest of the locker room groans. they've been teammates with isagi for so long that not only were they all present for his wedding to you, but they were the first people outside of his immediate family to see the ultrasound of his first child. a lesser known fact than isagi being a menace: yoichi isagi is in love with his wife, and is that one annoying coworker who never shuts up about his family and how much he loves them.

so, not knowing what's going to happen, the player asks his captain on what he's looking at so hard on his phone. isagi proudly holds up his smartphone. displayed on his screen is a video of a very beautiful woman — you.

"hi, baby!" you're smiling, and you have a tube of lipstick in your hand. "sweetheart, come here! we're gonna film a video for daddy, okay?" seconds later, another face appears on the screen. an adorable little girl, no older than six, pops up. she blinks at the screen, confused as to why her dad isn't there, but she's easily distracted when she sees you mark your cheek using the tube of lipstick.

"mommy, you just put lippie on your face!"

"i know, sweetie, but watch this." you beckon your daughter closer to you, and then you surprise her by pressing your cheek against hers; it now makes perfect sense what you were drawing on your face. you were drawing half a heart, with a short line drawn in the middle. when you pull away from her but still make sure your faces are side by side, the image is clear: the two of your cheeks pressed together make a heart with the number 11 inside of it; isagi's number.

isagi's daughter's eyes light up as she recognizes what you were creating. "this is daddy's number!"

"yes!!" you cheer, and the two of you are grinning into the camera. "play well, yoichi! we'll be cheering for you the whole time!!"

"aren't they the cutest?" isagi is smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

it's hard for that player to recognize the isagi from the locker room to the isagi who is out on the field now, with a mean scowl on his face as he screams out a profanity against a member of the opposing team.

(isagi's all sunshine and rainbows and big, ear-splitting grins as he celebrates his victory, all thanks to his hat trick. he credits you — his amazing wife — and his daughter for supporting him and giving him the edge he needed to win the game.

if your cute show of support got isagi to throw out some of the most vulgar insults and most disrespectful plays on the field, everyone hates to see what he'd play like when he's actually upset.)

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Shut Me Up

Summary: years after falling out, her, Aemond and the friend group take a summer trip to their Dornish villa, where real intentions make themselves known | word count: 9.2k | warnings: smut, choking, hair pulling, spanking, enemies to lovers ish, swearing, mentions of marijuana use, fingering

A/N: didn't mean to post this on the Mitchelly man's birthday but here we are. A little smutty number in celebration of my seasonal depression cured. And for this fic let's pretend they're all not related, mmk

She thought it'd stay in the group chat, like most of their holiday plans.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for some, it had somehow materialised into a long weekend away on the white sand Dornish beaches. Her bank account was not particularly happy, but the promise of endless sun, cocktails, friends and fun, would just about make up for it, she supposed.

As the only one with a credit card that wasn't maxed out, she rented the hire van for the six hour road trip it would take to get to the villa. She tried, often, to persuade Baela or Helaena into driving. But the former insisted on doing her makeup in the passenger seat for the first leg of the journey, and the latter, well, she'd likely be handing out the space brownies in the back seat.

So it was decided, in the end, Baela would pick up the second half of the drive. She prayed, for the sake of her deposit, that the roads were clear.

The force at which Rhaena threw her overnight bag at her nearly knocked all the wind out of her, “fuck me, Rhae, the hell is in this thing?”

“What? I need to bring aftersun, painkillers, first aid kit, blister patches—”

Baela snorts, brushing past her anxious twin to stuff her bag in the boot of the van, “Rhaena’s brain doesn't know the difference between having a gun to her head and being unprepared.”

“At least you pack lightly,” she smirks, raising a brow, trying her best to shove the luggage aside to fit.

Jace was quick to follow out, his flip flops unabashedly falling to pieces, clad in khaki shorts and a white shirt. She'll never get her head around what Baela sees in him. Sure he's funny, attractive, but he dresses like he's done it in the dark and it's still the early 2000s.

She watches as Helaena and Aegon squabble for the house keys to lock up, having hosted Jace, Baela and Rhaena the night before in preparation for the trip. Luke and Daeron, as fun as they are to have around, are too young for a trip like this. And it's probably for the better anyway, knowing the history between Aemond and Luke. The incident that nobody really dares to talk about.

Helaena beamed, eyes tinged pink from either sun or something stronger as she clambered into the back of the van in a boho white dress. There was an easy air about everything. An excitement that cut through the humid air that billowed off the concrete pavements. The sort you only get from going on holiday.

And Aegon, well.

He's Aegon.

He winks, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes, “hey babe.”

“Absolutely fucking not, Aegon. Get in the van.”

He feigns disappointment, “you're breaking my fucking heart.”

“You'll live.”

Aegon snacks Helaena's arm to budge up a space and plonks himself right in the middle seat, stretching his legs out only to annoy Rhaena in the seat in front.

“Who's ready for a road trip!” Helaena squealed excitedly.

Baela laughed, glancing back over Jace’s arm that was around her shoulders, “are you high already?”

“Excuse you, I am perfectly sober.”

“She's high,” Rhaena added, barely looking up from her phone.

She bit back a laugh, and was about to ask where the last passenger was, always late but hey, reliably late. But he appeared before she had the chance to utter the words.

Aemond.

He walked towards the van with the usual effortless arrogance, duffel bag shoved over his shoulder, silver hair pulled into a lazy knot. He was dressed in all black because of course he was. Even if it was nearly 40 degrees Celsius and hot enough to fry an egg on the kerb.

To be fair, she'd not seen him in a while, so she looked him up and down, and he was, if not a little bit taller than the last time she saw him. And the scar that lined through his brow, through his eye and down his cheek was almost silvery in the midday sun.

Aside from that, he was still the most raging twat she'd ever met.

For the slightest second, their gazes met, but he was first to look away. No smirk. No greeting. Just the cold, unreadable calm. 

“Here he is, our favourite brooder,” Aegon laughed.

Aemond exhaled through his nose, sighing into the last seat at the very back and tucking his bag between his feet, “shut up, Aegon.”

Aegon grinned, clapping him on the shoulder, “Gods I missed this family dynamic. It's so fucking healthy.”

She pretended to instead be interested with how to turn the headlights on and off, even though she wouldn't need them on the six hour drive. Boot closed, engine roaring and everyone, well…nearly everyone, squealed ‘let’s go!’.

The inside of the car smelled like sun cream, salty crisps, and whatever questionable concoction Aegon had decided to mix into his oversized tumbler. The air-conditioning was on full blast, fighting against the relentless Dornish heat.

Helaena, currently high as hell of a ‘brownie’, was sprawled out like a sun-dazed lizard, arms stretched above her head, blinking lazily at the passing scenery.

Aegon chuckled, “how many did you eat, Hel?”

Helaena giggled, “like…one and a half. But they were big,” she raised her fingers like she was measuring something ridiculous.

She looked in the rear-view mirror as a car behind them overtook them on the dual carriageway, and caught eyes with Aemond, who had his noise cancelling headphones on. The blue of one eye and the misty grey of the other made her heart leap as they clocked on hers, however briefly. And Baela certainly noticed how hard she gripped the steering wheel.

Aemond looked largely the same, lean but built, sharp features, all arrogance albeit silent. And though his hair was tied back, a few strands were loose. And she hated that she noticed.

It had been years since the falling out.

It was a terrible mix. They were teenagers. Had a bit to drink, when the tolerance was horrific. Followed by a very public argument at one of his family gatherings that ended in her calling him a ‘pretentious, controlling asshole’. And well, the rest was history. They existed whenever the friend group got together, each too stubborn to force the friendship group to adjust to their spat, but she avoided him all the same.

For the record she still thought he was all of the above.

The drive was quiet but long. And between Helaena's spaced-out ramblings, Jace’s terrible choice in music and Rhaena complaining she needed to pee, Baela took it upon herself to find a service station to stop up. And as soon as the handbrake was up, the doors flew open and they all rushed out like a chaotic clown car act.

The station was nothing special, some off-brand fast food places and a tiny shop for snacks and drinks. But it would do. She hopped out the drivers side and down the side of the van, bristling when Aemond climbed out his side and they brushed shoulders.

He smirked, “relax, I'm not going to bite.”

All she could do was shake her head and throw a face of disgust that Baela certainly didn't miss, “are you two still at it?” she asked, amused, “this has been going on for years. Honestly impressive at this point.”

She rolled her eyes, watching as Aemond stalked off behind Aegon to the shop, “I don’t have the energy to argue with someone who thinks he’s better than everyone else just because he reads philosophy books and drives like he’s in a Fast and Furious movie.”

Aemond didn't go inside, he leaned on the wall, stoking up a cigarette, the lazy smoke dwindling from his lips into the hazy Dornish air. She hated the way he was just so effortlessly nonchalant, like he belonged in an black and white movie.

“You’re staring,” Baela said, voice laced with amusement.

She tore her gaze away, scowling, “I am not.”

Baela hummed knowingly, “suuuure. You know, if you just fucked it out, all this tension would be gone.”

She choked through a sip of water, “Baela—”

“What? I’m just saying,” she shrugged, smirking, “I mean, I don’t even think he hates you as much as you think he does.”

She scoffed, “please. We’ve been at each other’s throats since we were kids. Aemond thrives on making my life miserable.”

“Or,” Baela drawled, “he thrives on getting under your skin because he likes your reaction.”

She rolled her eyes, but her face felt hot, was she getting a sunburn? “We’re not having this conversation.”

“Fine, fine,” she relented, then, casually, she added, “by the way, I heard he and Alys broke up. Months ago.”

That made her freeze.

Baela watched her expression closely, like she was waiting for a reaction. She forced a neutral shrug, stuffing her hands into her pockets, “and?”

“And,” she smirked, “you’re pretending you don’t care.”

Did she care? Really?

“I'm going to pretend we didn't have this conversation.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Baela laughed without a care as Rhaena bounded back up to them with a handful of snacks. Aegon and the rest weren't far behind.

Aegon groaned, “thank the gods I was about to gnaw my own arm off.”

“I don’t know how you’re hungry,” she replied, eyeing him, “you inhaled half a bag of crisps like ten minutes ago.”

“I'm a growing boy,” he winked. Making the others gag.

Mercifully, nothing more was said on the matter. She simply graced the spot where Baela had been sat, had her snacks and let her drive the rest of the way. Rolling down her window, she let her hand rest out of it, the warm, dull air flowing through her fingers. Blissfully ignorant of her nemesis in the back seat.

She knew their dad was rich but Viserys’ obnoxiously sized villa was so endless it bordered on ridiculous. It was perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the endless blue stretch of sea, with a white, sandy beach sprawling at the foot of it.

The villa was no eyesore either. It's sunbleached patios, white stone walls and glass doors all reflected the shimmer of the sunlight on the water. And despite having the literal sea at your feet, the pool sat beneath the balcony, wide, deep and perfectly maintained.

Viserys Targaryen never did anything by halves.

Aegon whistled, “fuck me, I knew the old man had money, but taste?”

Helaena pushed by him, bag in tow, “I get the biggest room!”

“No you fucking don't—” Aegon called, running after her like a child.

She stretched her legs, hopping out of the van and inhaling the warm, salty sea air. The view was ridiculous, and a natural staircase made of stone led down the side towards the private beach.

Baela nudged her arm, “this is amazing.”

She nodded, “despite the company, this trip might be bearable.”

Aemond, audibly, trudged past with his duffel bag, lazily making his way into the villa with a smirk as if he'd heard.

Yep. Bearable.

Everyone was too exhausted to do anything but dump their bags in their rooms and laze around the pool. That, and raiding the kitchen for all the food.

By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, everyone had found their spots and Jace and Aegon were already three beers deep and failing to pot anything at the pool table. She had found herself with the girls poolside, nursing a bottle as they dipped their feet in the cool water.

“We're all waking up early for the beach,” Rhaena declared, loud enough for Aegon to groan.

She laughs, the water rippling around her legs, “what are we doing swimsuit-wise? Practical or hot?”

“Hot.”

“Hot!”

Rhaena and Baela answered simultaneously.

“Hey I've seen you in the bikini, you'll give someone a heart attack,” Baela grinned.

“Shut up.”

Maybe it wasn't heart attack worthy, but the bikini certainly was something. It had honestly felt like she'd lived a lifetime since last seeing herself in swimwear, the seasonal depression had done no favours there. But now, looking at herself in the mirror, she nodded and pulled her hair away from her face, lathering herself with sun cream before attempting the blazing Dornish midday.

“Gods, if I were gay,” Baela whistled from where she sat on the bed, a dark blue translucent shawl tucked over her shoulders.

She rolled her eyes with a snort, “please, you'll be gushing in thirty seconds about how Jace looks in knee length shorts.”

“Hey. Knee length shorts gets some girls going, okay?”

Rhaena scoffs, white streaks of half-rubbed in sun cream glazing her cheeks, “just you, sis.”

Yep, definitely just you, she thinks.

She'd underestimated the beach. It was gorgeous, idyllic, in fact there weren't enough words. It was just secluded enough to feel private, and nobody wasted any time in making use of it. 

Some jumped head first into the waves, tackling and splashing. Aegon had brought with him a garish purple lilo, which Jace found great pleasure in flipping over occasionally, dunking Aegon and whatever drink he was holding into the turquoise water.

Even Aemond, who usually abstained from these sort of activities, had shed his shirt and waded lazily into the water, the sun somewhat reflecting off his sun-cream glistened skin.

She hated that she noticed.

Even more, she hated the way the water made his hair a shade darker, how the drops of water ran down his chest—

No. No. Nope.

She leaned back on the sun bed, pushing her hat over her eyes, willing the image out of her mind as quick as it had come. And the first day passed quickly. She'd dipped in the sea, yes, but not the boyish, rowdy behaviour that the boys and even Helaena were sporting. Most of it was spent lounging, relaxing.

Burning.

Gods, a lot of burning.

By the time night-time had rolled around, her shoulders were pink, mirrored with a dusty line across her cheeks and nose. The ticklish sensation hadn't kicked in yet. That was tomorrow her’s problem.

Right now, all she needed was a nice cold shower and peace.

And peace she found. The villa fell into an easy, relaxed quiet. Somewhere down the hall Aegon was giggling drunkenly, Baela was probably spooning Jace and she could fear the faint sound of TV through Helaena's bedroom.

She padded barefoot across the cool tiles, pushing open the balcony doors that graced one side of her room. The breeze crept in, welcome and warm on her skin, just enough to let in the salty scent in the air.

She mindlessly rubbed the back of her neck where the bikini top had made its tan line. Or what would eventually be a tan line anyway, right now it looked more scarlet. Staring out, the flickering lights of nearby villages blinked in the distance, sparkling along the peninsula where the villa sat atop.

The reflection of the lit pool below caught her eye, and she felt her throat tighten at the sight. Swimming, in the dark and illuminated only by the cool lights beneath the water, was Aemond, cutting through the water with lazy, practiced strokes.

He was alone. Quiet. And ashamed to say he looked good.

The thought came before it could be stopped, but once it was there it took root, and an immediate scowl crept to her face at her weakness. 

His bare shoulders gleamed under the tempered light, lean, toned frame moving through the water with a silent grace. The water had made his hair slicked back, revealing the cut of his jaw, and the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Aemond ran his hands over his face, leaning back with a sigh to dip his hair back into the water. Her heart nearly leapt through her chest as his gaze lifted to her on the balcony, catching her watching him.

Shit.

Her stomach twisted, heat crept up her neck and it absolutely wasn't sunburn. She could do nothing more than just pretend she wasn't watching him, so she turned on her heel, and slid back inside her room, holding the balcony doors shut with her heart rate going a mile a minute.

She could feel his gaze as she shut the door. Could imagine his expression too, smug bastard. 

Mouth suddenly dry, she pulled her shawl around her tighter and made for the kitchen, needing something to take away this aftertaste. Grumbling and sighing, she scolded herself, barely even at the cupboard before she spotted him.

He was standing by the fridge, bottle of water in hand, in nothing more than the shorts he was wearing to swim resting low on his hips. His hair was still damp, but some bits curled around his face, and she hoped he hadn't seen the way she noticed the slightest ‘v’ that disappeared below the waistband.

He turned, perfectly calm, as if he hadn't just caught her staring for the second time in ten minutes.

“Can't sleep?”

She crossed her arms, looking off, “needed water.”

He laughed once, breathy, and threw the water he was holding to her, which she caught with her other hand as it slipped through her fingers. 

“Thanks.”

The moment stretched. 

She only watched from her periphery as Aemond grabbed another from the fridge, and twisted off the cap. She had luckily resisted the urge to watch him bring it to his lips and down half as if he was parched.

No sooner had she bought the bottle to her own lips.

“You keep looking at me like that.”

She nearly choked on her water.

Her fingers tightened around the bottle, crinkling under the pressure as she turned to glare at him. “Like what?”

His eye flickered, taking her in with slow, assessing amusement. “You tell me.”

Her breath hitched, and she hated that her body betrayed her, the way her thighs tensed slightly, the way her fingers curled. Aemond noticed. Of course he did.

She rolled her eyes, masking the heat creeping up her neck, “you’re delusional.”

He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his water, his smirk never fading.

“Sure,” he murmured.

Rolling her eyes came naturally, “I still don’t know why you even came on this trip.”

Aemond raised a brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She scoffed. “Because you hate me.”

He tilted his head, considering her, his smirk turning thoughtful. “And what gave you that idea?”

She drained the bottle and crushed it with her palm, annoyance brewing, and she saw the amused quirk of his brow, “oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’ve spent the last few years acting like I’m the most insufferable person in existence?”

“You're not insufferable,” he chuckled, “maybe a bit, actually.”

She blinked, “excuse me?”

He shrugged, “I never said I hated you.”

She let out a dry laugh, “right. So all those times you went out of your way to argue with me? That wasn’t hatred?”

“I think you’re confusing hatred with enjoyment.”

She stomach flipped. No. Nope. Absolutely not.

She pointed a finger at him, “don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

That tone. That fucking tone. The one that was both amused and knowing, the one that made her face heat up against her will.

Aemond tilted his head, his voice dropping just slightly. “If I hated you,” he said, “I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

She stared at him. The smirk had slipped from his lips. The teasing tone gone. Fuck. 

There was something in his gaze that was something else entirely and she wasn't sure she wanted the flip of her tummy to tell her what it was. She swallowed hard. And before she did or said something stupid, turned on her heel and left to the sanctuary of her room.

And he let her.

A lazy morning was needed for most to sleep off the sunburns and drinks, but for her, she needed the lie in just to avoid running into Aemond as much as possible.

So with the day ahead, they'd decided to go to Sunspear Old Village, a collection of independent restaurants, shops and bakeries. The drive was short, but the difference between the villa and the sprawling village side streets was immediate.

The atmosphere was exciting, sunny, citrus and salt, vendors calling out for customer's attention. Markets lined the stoned path, freshly baked goods, colourful fabrics and handcrafted jewellery.

She and Baela lagged behind, a large sunhat on both their heads to shield from the unyielding sun, taking their time weaving through the stalls, oo-ing and ah-ing at the various Dornish wares.

One particular stall was everything she liked. Handmade jewellery of all golden hues, one worker was moulding a ring into shape and another was placing stencils against thinly laid gold and striking it with a mallet.

The one she liked was a small, golden sun pendant. Dark gold. Delicate and yet striking despite its simple design. The metal was hammered in small indents, and she marvelled at the craftsmanship with her fingertip over the surface.

“You should get it,” Baela insisted.

She tilted her head, “hm, I could but…don't really need it, and I didn't exchange enough money.”

“Since when did you need an excuse to buy jewellery?”

She grinned at Baela, glancing back at Aemond and Helaena as they toddled behind. The taller man had his hands in his pockets, sighing as his sister dragged him into yet another stall. 

She swore she caught his gaze on her, for a split second.

Baela was too observant for her own good. “You are so fucking obvious.”

“What?”

“I heard you two talking last night.”

She nearly choked on air, “what the hell, Baela—”

She snorted a laugh, pulling her sunhat over her eyes, “I wasn't eavesdropping! I just wanted a glass of water when I heard—” she straightened her back, puffing out her chest, “you keep looking at me like that.”

She gasped, smacking her arm, “Baela!”

She laughed, dodging herr second hit. "Oh, come on! That was the most tension I’ve ever heard in my life. I thought you two were about to—"

"Don’t. Even. Finish. That. Sentence."

Baela just smirked, eyes twinkling. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You so are.”

She huffed, opening her mouth to fire back–

A flash of white and gold hurtled between them, and Helaena, her dress swishing around her shins, beamed up, “look!” she exclaimed, vibrating with excitement as she presented a gold charm in her palm, “it’s a scorpion!”

Neither of them could hide their amusement. 

“Hel, of all the things to buy,” Baela smirked.

Helaena just grinned, unbothered, “scorpions are lucky,” she said matter-of-factly. 

She laughed a little, half in amusement and half because it must be nice to see the bright side of everything, “of course you’d find something weirdly meaningful.”

Hel clutched it happily, “I’m going to put it on my keychain.”

She exchanged looks with Baela, who simply shrugged. Helaena was Helaena.

And then, as if she could sense the conversation she had just interrupted, she tilted her head at her, blinking dreamily. “Are you flirting with Aemond?”

And all it took was Baela barking out into fits of laughter for her to roll her eyes, pretend those words hadn’t just come out of Helaena’s mouth and jog forwards to Rhaena instead, who mercifully was blissfully unaware of anything going on with the aforementioned Targaryen.

She and the girls had taken it upon themselves to bring down some food from the kitchen as well as the fire pit, nestling it into the sand and pulling their shawls over their shoulders to stay off the chill once the sun had dipped with the temperature.

Aegon, as expected, was putting on a show. The moment the flames came to life, he thumped his chest like a deranged caveman, grinning wildly, waiting for laughter that never came.

Baela, unimpressed but entertained, simply lifted her phone. Flash. Click. Post.

Aegon froze mid-motion, the colour draining from his face. “Baela. Delete that.”

She smirked, tucking her phone away. “Nope.”

“I will literally die if that’s on the internet.”

“It’s already on Instagram.”

With a loud groan, Aegon flopped backward into the sand, arms outstretched in defeat. Baela only grinned, her attention shifting to the half-empty bottle beside her. “Oh, fuck, we’re out of vodka.”

She nestled herself closer to Jace, clearly not intending to move.

From across the fire, she scoffed. “I’ll get some, you lazy fuckers.”

Aegon half-heartedly saluted, “brave of you. I wouldn’t make it up those stairs sober, let alone drunk.”

He wasn’t wrong. The private staircase leading up to the villa was steep and unforgiving, and this was, what, her fourth time climbing it today? With a resigned sigh, she pushed herself up, the warmth of the fire lingering against her skin as she stepped away from the group.

By the time she reached the top, she paused, catching her breath, turning toward the horizon.

The sea stretched out endlessly, dark and gleaming, with a sliver of gold and baby blue still clinging to the edge of the sky where the sun had disappeared.

I could get used to this.

Even if she had to endure him.

Shaking the thought away, she slipped through the villa doors, heading straight for the kitchen. It was dimly lit, the quiet hum of the night settling around her. She barely made it three steps before a voice cut through the silence.

“Thirsty?”

She jumped, nearly knocking over a glass. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she spun around, eyes landing on Aemond. He stood near the counter, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable, except for the faintest trace of a smirk. But it wasn’t just the way he looked at her that made her pulse jump. It was how he looked.

His silver hair was damp, strands curling slightly at the ends, still clinging to the warmth of a recent shower. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, just a pair of low-hanging black shorts, his skin catching the dim glow of the kitchen lights, casting shadows over the sharp lines of his stomach, the cut of his collarbone.

She swallowed, gripping the vodka bottle a little tighter than necessary.

He was insufferable.

He was annoying.

And yet–

“Didn’t take you for the helpful type,” she muttered, turning back to the cabinet, refusing to look at him for too long.

A quiet chuckle left his lips, “I wasn’t waiting for you, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Her jaw tightened. “Didn’t say you were. Just stop lurking around waiting to frighten me, would you.”

Aemond leaned against the counter, watching her with that same unreadable expression. She didn’t know what he was looking for, what he was waiting for, but it was irritating. She set the vodka bottle down on the counter with a dull thud, crossing her arms as she turned to face him fully. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get from this.”

“From what?”

“This,” she gestured vaguely, “you know exactly what. You’re acting like we never fell out. But we did, Aemond. You should hate my guts.”

Aemond resisted the urge to outright laugh. The truth was, they had never fallen out. Not in his mind. Oh, they had argued. Gods, had they argued. She had called him pretentious, insufferable, a controlling asshole. He had thrown words back just as easily, his own cutting remarks meant to frustrate her, rile her up, get her to fight him harder. 

He liked that she didn’t hold back, that she met him blow for blow, insult for insult. Still does.

Aemond exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, “you’re still talking to me.”

She scoffed. “Like I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

Something in her chest twisted at that, but she refused to let it show. She rolled her eyes, reaching for the vodka bottle and tucking it under her arm. “Whatever game you’re playing, Aemond, find someone else to play it with.”

She left the kitchen without another word, gripping the vodka bottle tighter than necessary as she made her way back down the endless stone steps to the beach. The sea breeze hit her as soon as she reached the bottom, cool and briny, doing little to chase away the strange heat in her chest.

You always have a choice.

She scowled, shoving the thought aside as she rejoined the group, dropping the bottle into Baela’s waiting hands. “There,” she muttered, sinking back onto the blanket, pulling her shawl tighter around herself. “Now stop making me do all the work.”

Baela grinned, already unscrewing the cap. “You’re a hero.”

The fire burned low, casting a warm glow against their sun-kissed faces, flickering against the edges of the waves. She barely noticed Aemond’s arrival until he was lowering himself onto the sand a few feet away, silent, as always, but technically, next to her.

Unlike earlier, he had thrown on a loose button-down, the top few buttons left undone, revealing a sliver of tanned skin and collarbone. His silver hair was still damp, stray strands falling over his sharp features. He looked completely at ease, like he belonged in the firelight, the shadows playing over the angles of his face.

Stop that.

Baela poured out shots, handing them around. “To questionable decisions and even worse hangovers.”

Jace groaned. “We are so fucked tomorrow.”

The alcohol burned, but she welcomed it, letting the warmth spread through her veins, dulling the tension in her shoulders. One shot became two. Then three.

And then, somewhere between Aegon trying to wrestle Jace into the sand and Rhaena doing drunken cartwheels again, the conversation took a sharp turn.

“Oh, I know what we should talk about,” Aegon declared suddenly, tossing an empty bottle into the sand.

Baela groaned. “If you say kinks, I swear to the gods—”

“Kinks.”

Jace put his face in his hands. “Fucking hell.”

Aegon smirked, completely unrepentant. “Come on. We’ve been drinking. There are no rules. Let’s make this interesting.”

Rhaena laughed, shaking her head. “This is already a terrible idea.”

Baela smirked. “Fine. But you go first, since you brought it up.”

Aegon leaned back on his hands, completely unbothered. “Easy. Hair pulling, spanking, and—”

“Enough.” Jace groaned. Helaena fake gagged, shaking her head.

One by one, everyone went around, rattling off their preferences with varying degrees of amusement or reluctance.

And then it was her turn.

She hesitated. “Pass.”

Baela raised a brow. “No passes.”

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders, acting unfazed. “It’s not even that interesting.”

“Then it should be easy to say,” Baela countered, smirking.

She took a sip of her drink, then, with a casual shrug, said, “Choking.”

It wouldn’t have gotten such a reaction if it were anyone else, but Aemond, fucking chuckled. She turned her head sharply, only to find him watching her, smirking slightly, his gaze dark with something unreadable.

“What?” she snapped, her voice sharper than intended.

“Nothing,” he grinned behind the bottle he was nursing.

“No, go on, what’s so funny?”

Aemond tilted his head, studying her, his smirk growing the slightest bit sharper. “I just don’t think you’d let someone get their hands on you like that,” he murmured.

Her pulse spiked.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the heat of the fire, maybe it was just him, but she felt it, the way the air shifted, the way the space between them suddenly felt far too small. Luckily, the others swiftly got bored of their verbal sparring. A small relief. But it made her feel at least like everyone wasn’t zeroed in on what they were talking about.

She scoffed, leaning back and burying her palms in the sand, “and you’re an expert.”

“I don’t think you’d let someone do it properly.”

Despite the crackle of…something, in the air. The alcohol had not only made her wavy, but braver. And she met his gaze with her chin up, “and you think you could?”

Aemond exhaled a quiet laugh, setting his drink down beside him. 

“I don’t think. I know.”

Her lips parted, something thrumming hot under her skin, crawling up her spine. She pushed it away quickly, her eyes lazy and challenging, “yeah right, as if–”

Her lips snapped shut when she felt it, unhurried, his hand curling around her neck. Not tight. Not rough. Just enough to feel it. Just enough to make her breath catch. Her entire body went rigid, heat pooling at the base of her spine, her pulse hammering against the cage of her ribs.

His fingers rested lightly over her throat, long and steady, the faintest pressure applied in a way that was taunting. Testing. Aemond watched her reaction carefully, his gaze dark and focused, thumb resting just below her jaw, brushing over the sensitive skin, feeling the thrum of her heart at her pulse point. She swallowed, and he felt it.

His lips curled slightly. "See?" His voice was low, smug, dangerous. "That's how you'd want it."

Her breath was shallow, a sharp contrast to the cool sea air around them. She willed herself to react, to do something, anything,  but her body wasn’t cooperating.

Aegon groaned loudly, “gods, just fuck already.”

The spell snapped.

Aemond pulled away, slow and deliberate, and she ripped her gaze from him, shaking herself back to reality. "Shut up, Aegon," she muttered, rolling her eyes, though her voice was noticeably weaker.

She glanced around, seeing that most were preoccupied. Thank the gods for vodka. But even as the conversation shifted, as Aegon moved on to some other stupid drunken tangent, her body still felt the ghost of Aemond's touch. Still burned with it.

She stole a glance at him beneath her lashes.

He was still watching her.

By the time they all stumbled back to the villa, buzzed from the alcohol, sunburnt from the day, and far too aware of the tension still crackling between her and Aemond, she knew she was in trouble.

Everyone was dispersing into their rooms, peeling off damp clothes and sand-covered swimsuits, muttering about showers and food. And her shower was swift and much needed, though the lukewarm water stung slightly at the red patch on her shoulder blades. She threw on a long shirt to sleep in to keep the sensitive skin off the sheets.

A soft knock though, froze her. In her gut, she already knew it was him. But it wasn’t gratifying in the least when she opened the door and confirmed she was correct. He leaned against the doorframe, as if he had all the time in the world, still wearing the loose linen button down shirt and shorts, though it was only now she noticed the chain sat at his throat.

She sighed, exasperated, but with a dull, needing ache she didn’t want to admit, “what do you want, Aemond.”

Aemond exhaled a quiet laugh. Then, without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, kicking the door closed. She stepped back automatically, breath hitching.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmured, his voice dark and even, like he already knew she wouldn’t.

The words balanced on her lips. But the heat between them was too thick, too heavy, and the ghost of his touch still lingered against her throat.

So she didn’t.

And the second she didn’t tell him to fuck off, she knew she was losing a game before it even started. Aemond crowded her as she backed up, almost casually, but there was nothing at all casual about the way he was looking at her. The way he was closing this distance as if he could predict how it would end. There was intent in every movement.

She echoed herself, “what do you want, Aemond.”

His smirk was expected but still made her stomach flip all the same, “I think we both know the answer to that.”

The air thickened, wrapping around her like smoke, suffocating. She should stop this. She should push him away. She should. But she didn’t. Instead, she stayed perfectly still as Aemond reached for her, tilting her chin up with two fingers.

"Say it," he murmured, and her eyes flickered to his mouth as he uttered the words.

She swallowed, throat dry. “Say what?”

His thumb dragged along her jawline, slow, teasing. "That you want me to touch you."

Her lips parted, a breath escaping. Humiliation and arousal tangled together, tightening in her chest, her stomach, lower.

She hated him. She wanted him.

And that was exactly why she finally whispered.

"Touch me."

His smirk disappeared, the fight leaving him. And then he did.

His lips crashed against hers, swallowing her gasp as his grip tightened around her jaw, backing her against the door. The force of it made her lips part, and Aemond wasted no time in taking advantage of it. He kissed her like he was claiming something, like he’d been waiting for this, waiting for her to give in. His tongue brushed against hers, demanding, teasing, and the moment she kissed him back with the same hunger, his hand wrapped around her throat. 

Not hard enough to cut off air, just enough to remind her that it was there.

A soft, desperate sound escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Aemond smirked against her mouth, pulling back just enough to murmur, "So you do like it."

She glared at him, breathless, dizzy with want. "Shut up."

His fingers tightened, just slightly. Her pulse jumped and she tugged him back to her by his shirt, back to her lips, Aemond groaned, deep and low, before pulling back and flipping her around, her front pressed against the door, his chest flush against her back. Even like this, she could feel him strained against her backside, and it only made her want to push her hips, see how far she could push him too.

His hand slipped up her shirt, on the bare skin of her stomach, and she froze and melted at the same time. She felt him exhale against her neck at the touch, before sliding the tips of his fingers against the waistband of her underwear. 

"Tell me you want it," he murmured against her ear.

Her breath came out shaky and she hated it, “Aemond—”

His fingers slipped lower, teasing, hovering exactly where she needed him. "Tell me," he repeated, dangerously patient.

She clenched her jaw, her body already thrumming. “I want it.”

Aemond’s chuckle was dark and satisfied. "Good girl."

His hand slipped beneath, past the barrier of her underwear, and the moment his fingers met her slick heat, his breath caught. Her lips parted, choking on air it seemed, her eyes slipping shut as he took his time.

"Fuck," he rasped, voice rough, "so fucking wet."

She bit her lip hard to stop herself from making a sound, but then he pressed his fingers against her clit, slow and deliberate, and she shuddered.

“Don’t be shy now,” Aemond murmured, lips grazing her neck, his other hand coming to her jaw to tilt her face towards him.

She nearly whimpered when he circled his fingers against her, slow, teasing, in complete control. The pressure was just enough to drive her insane, but not enough to push her over the edge. And then he did something dangerous. His hand tightened around her throat at the exact moment he slipped a finger inside her.

Her knees buckled.

"Aemond—"

Her body met him with infuriatingly little resistance, and Aemond seemed to revel in the warmth of her, how tight she seemed around one digit alone. And she just knew he was thinking about something else. How she might feel around him.

He groaned, pulling back just enough to look at her, his eye dark, jaw tight, lips parted like he was barely holding himself together. “You’re fucking perfect," he muttered.

Then, without warning, he added a second finger. She gasped, pressing back against him, his name slipping past her lips in a breathless, wrecked moan.

Aemond grinned, pressing his lips to her shoulder, her neck. "That’s it," he murmured. “Take it.”

Pressed between the door and Aemond was an unfortunate predicament. Unable to move, she could only stand there and take it, his long, deft fingers pressing up into her forcefully and crooking forwards, searching for her sweet spot with an almost obsessive attitude. But equally, so close to the door, to the hallway outside, she had no choice but to press her lips together and be quiet, despite his wish for her not to be.

He wanted people to hear.

She felt the slow, forceful grind of his fingers deep inside her, not thrusting in and out, but pressing, pushing, curling, rubbing against that spot that made her body tremble, made her breath hitch. Aemond moved his fingers in deep, slow circles, stretching her from the inside, coaxing out pleasure with cruel precision. Every shift of his hand sent shockwaves up her spine, her walls gripping around him tight, desperate, needy.

His thumb dragged against her clit, matching the pressure of his fingers inside her, not flicking or teasing, pressing down firmly, rubbing slow, torturous circles.

"Fuck—" the word tore from her throat, raw and uncontrolled, her hips jerking forward into his touch. And at the friction against his aching arousal, he almost whined.

But Aemond hummed, pleased. “Good girl.”

His voice sent heat licking down her spine, pooling low in her stomach. Her head fell back, her body tightening, burning, spiralling toward something devastatingly sharp.

"Aemond—" her voice was wrecked, breathless. He groaned, like hearing her like this did something to him, like it unravelled him, too.

His hand at her throat tightened slightly, tilting her head back as his lips grazed her jaw. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”

She could only nod, unable to think, unable to do anything but feel. The pleasure coiled tighter, deeper, spreading outward, her thighs trembling around his hand. Her body snapped, shattering apart as waves of pleasure crashed over her, raw and consuming, making her shake in his grasp.

Aemond groaned at the feel of it, his fingers working her through it, slow and deliberate as her walls fluttered around him, her body pulsing, clenching, trembling.

She barely had a second to catch her breath before he was moving. Grabbing her like a sack of potatoes and throwing her on the bed, wrenching her underwear down her legs, and forcefully flipping her over onto her stomach.

And then.

A sharp crack of heat across her backside.

Aemond must have felt her jolt, must have noticed the way her breath hitched, the way her thighs instinctively squeezed together. “Don’t be so surprised,” he mused, positioning her exactly how he wanted. 

He leaned down, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, his voice dark with satisfaction.

“Girls who are into choking are into much more than that.”

Her stomach twisted, her breath catching both at his words and his manhandling. She glanced back, catching his hands as they worked his shorts open to free himself, rendering her mouth suddenly dry. It was all so quick, she barely got a good look at him. He tugged her hips up slightly, the fat head of his cock parting her sensitive folds and began to push inside, and then she forgot how to think entirely. A wrecked sound escaped her throat, muffled by the sheets, her body already soaked, stretched, ready for him after his ruthless teasing.

He filled her completely, every inch stretching her open, the burn of it making her eyes squeeze shut. Aemond groaned, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck, still so tight,” he rasped, pulling back before slamming into her again, rough and unforgiving. The force of it sent her forward onto her elbows, her breath punched from her lungs. Starting out in this position, she felt every bit, the way his cock bent inside her, as if sculpting her to the shape of him.

It was filthy. Brutal. Perfect.

His fingers dug into her flesh, his pace relentless, punishing, as if he wanted to ruin her for anyone else. She let out a desperate, breathy moan, her body giving in, taking everything he gave her, arching back into him. And when she did, Aemond let out a low groan, sliding a hand up her back, over every notch of her smooth spine, trailing along the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling into her hair and tugging.

A ragged gasp tore from her throat, her scalp burning in the most intoxicating way. She clenched around him, and he felt it. His grip tightened, pulling her head back just enough to make her spine arch beautifully, her mouth parting in a silent moan.

Aemond groaned at the way her body reacted to him, the way she clenched around his cock like she was trying to keep him buried inside her forever.

“Oh, you really do like that, don’t you?” his voice was low, rough, laced with something dark and possessive, her hair wrapped around his long fingers.

She barely managed to choke out a sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, but it only spurred him on. His grip in her hair didn’t falter as he snapped his hips forward, fucking into her harder, deeper, rough enough to make the headboard slam against the wall. She shook beneath him, unable to do anything but take it, absorb every brutal thrust, every sharp pull of her hair that sent electricity racing down her spine.

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” he murmured, his pace never slowing, his thrusts hitting deep, over and over, dragging her closer to that edge.

She could only nod, her fingers clutching desperately at the sheets, at nothing.

She whined as he released her hair, his arm sliding around her waist to pull her up to him, dragging her up onto her knees with her back flush against his chest. Her head lolled back against his shoulder as his hand slid over her stomach, pushing her back onto him with every deep, punishing thrust. 

“Aemond,” she gasped, barely able to form words, her voice breaking.

He groaned at the sound, at the way she tightened around him, pushing his hand lower, rubbing slow, firm circles over her clit.

And that was it.

Her body snapped, pleasure crashing over her in violent, uncontrollable waves, her moans raw and shattered as she came around him, clenching so tight it nearly sent him over the edge too.

“Fuck,” Aemond gritted out, his thrusts turning desperate, chasing his own high as her body milked him.

He buried himself deep, his jaw tight, breath ragged, before he finally let go, groaning her name as he came, spilling inside her, holding her still as he filled her completely.

For a long moment, the room was silent, nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing, the crackling of the sea breeze through the open window. Aemond’s grip eased, his hands sliding down to her waist as he pressed his forehead against her shoulder, his breath still unsteady.

Slowly, he pulled back, completely out of her, his hands sliding down her hips, making her shiver at the loss of him. He pressed a quick, lingering kiss to her shoulder before pushing himself up, reaching for his lowered shorts and pulling them back over his hips.

She lay there on her stomach, face pressed into the pillows, trying to process what the fuck had just happened.

And more than that , what it meant.

But before she could let her thoughts spiral, Aemond flopped onto the bed beside her, stretching his long limbs out, one arm tucked beneath his head.

It was almost too casual, too normal, like they hadn’t just spent the last hour fucking each other senseless. She turned her head, staring at him, trying to read the subtle curve of his lips, the way his gaze flickered to her like he was waiting for her reaction.

Finally, she spoke, voice hoarse from overuse.

“So…what now?”

Aemond let out a low chuckle, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “That depends. Are you going to keep pretending you hate me?”

“You should be the one pretending to hate me. I was convinced you despised me.”

“Hate you?” He glanced at her, sharp, amused. “I never hated you.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You, though? You’ve been trying very hard to convince yourself that you do.”

Her stomach flipped, and she groaned, grabbing a pillow and smacking his arm with it. “You’re a dick.”

Aemond caught her wrist easily, his grip firm but playful, tugging her just enough to pull her closer. “Careful,” he murmured smugly, “you might make me think you actually like me.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real fight behind it.

Lying back down, she stretched, her body already sore, knowing she was going to get it in the neck from the others tomorrow.

“Oh gods, they’re going to be unbearable about this,” she muttered.

Aemond just grinned, clearly unbothered. “That’s tomorrow’s problem.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He gave a lazy shrug, running a hand through his messy silver hair. “A little.”

For a second, Aemond propped up, fishing something out his pocket. 

“What are you–”

Her voice died on her lips the second she saw what laid in his palm. The sun shaped, gold pendant she had seen at Sunspear Market earlier that day stared back. The dark gold glinted against her eyes, and she tentatively reached out to touch it.

“You—”

Aemond shrugged. But she could see he was trying to play it a little cool, to stay off the embarrassed flush to his cheeks at such a sweet gesture, “I saw you looking at it.”

She hesitated, but she was more shocked. She hadn't honestly expected something so nice, especially from him, as hard to read as he was. Such as right now. He was so composed. As if he hadn't had it in his pocket all day, waiting to give it to her.

“You bought this for me?...”

A silly question in hindsight, but she was too floored to ask anything else. And she didn't even need his reply truthfully.

Still, Aemond smirked, propping up to watch as she ran her finger over the metal, “I did, but…”

She looked up, her heart constricting, “but?...”

Aemond bit back a nervous smile, “you can wear it…if we give this a chance,” he says, vaguely gesturing between them.

Her breath caught. Not because it was unexpected, he had been pushing her in this direction all night, all trip, maybe even longer than that. But hearing him say it so simply, so confidently, so Aemond, sent something warm and unsteady rippling through her chest.

She glanced away for a second, fingers brushing the pendant absentmindedly, before letting out a slow breath. “And what exactly is… ‘this’?” she asked, her voice softer than before.

Aemond tilted his head, “this,” he murmured, “is me saying I don’t want to pretend I don’t want you anymore.”

Gods, he was good with words when he wanted to be.

Her lips parted slightly, but before she could say anything, his expression shifted, turning just a little sharper, a little more amused.

“And also, I’m realising one of my kinks might be you calling me a pretentious asshole.”

Before she could stop herself, she burst out laughing. It was unexpected, light, breaking the thick tension in the air.

“Maybe you are a pretentious asshole,” she managed between giggles.

Aemond hummed, leaning closer to brush his lips against hers, “hm, you keep up, don't you.”

She couldn't stop smiling, her cheeks hurt. And Aemond's fingers brushed her skin, reaching for the chain of the necklace, “let me.”

Lifting her hair, she raised her chin so he could clasp the pendant around her neck, the gold sitting elegantly against her chest. He hummed in appreciation and she swallowed, a shiver running down her spine at the barely-there touch.

“Shall we celebrate.”

She raised a suspicious brow. Celebrate.

A bark of laughter threatened to break out.

“Celebrate how, exactly?”

The dark looks returned to his gaze, and she gasped as he maneuvered atop her, his hand bunching up her shirt around her hips. “With you, wearing nothing but that pretty little necklace I just bought you.”

Her stomach tightened. And her body responded before she did.

And judging by the smug look on Aemond's face. He noticed.

She woke up sore, in the best way possible.

The sheets were tangled around her legs, her body still buzzing from the night before, and when she shifted slightly, the cool press of gold against her skin reminded her of exactly how they’d celebrated.

Aemond had already left the bed when she woke up, thank the gods, which meant she had enough time to collect herself before inevitably facing the others.

Black bikini, sandals slipped on and she was out straight away, her hair still tousled from how rough Aemond had been with her the night before.

Helaena, Baela, and Rhaena sat sprawled out on their towels, sunglasses perched on their noses, drinks in hand. They looked far too entertained. And they knew. Oh, they fucking knew.

“So…” Baela drawled, adjusting her sunglasses as she turned toward her. “You had an eventful night.”

She rolled her eyes, dropping onto the sand beside them, already regretting coming down here. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhaena scoffed, hiding a smirk behind her drink. “Oh, come on.”

Helaena, as dreamy as ever, blinked up at her, tilting her head. “You’re glowing.”

Baela snorted, finally pushing her sunglasses onto her head so she could look at her properly. And then, her gaze zeroed in. She grinned. “Oh my gods, you’re wearing it.”

Her stomach dropped. Shit.

Baela pointed at the gold sun pendant resting delicately against her collarbone, shining in the morning light. “So, Aemond buys you jewellery now?”

She groaned, tipping her head back against the sand. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

Rhaena smirked, twirling her straw between her fingers. “Not a chance.”

Helaena giggled, “I knew you didn’t hate each other.”

“Oh, I still hate him.”

Baela barked out a laugh, “so that was a hate fuck, was it?”

Rhaena snorted into her drink, nearly choking on it.

As if completely uninterested, Helaena excused herself, grabbing an empty tupperware as a beetle flew into the reeds by the stairs. Classic Hel.

Rhaena cleared her throat, “so…was it good?”

“I'm not talking about this.”

“Oh, so it was good,” Rhaena mused, eyes twinkling.

“I hate all of you.”

Baela leaned in. “You know what they say. The quiet ones are always the worst.”

Rhaena thoughtfully. “I bet he was really intense about it.”

“Oh, definitely. Control freak. Probably took his time—”

She groaned, “oh my gods, can we please change the subject?”

Helaena returned, beaming, a freshly caught beetle in her tub, “well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm happy for you.”

She peeked up at her through one squinted eye. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be happy about your brother getting laid.”

Helaena simply shrugged, smiling. “You make him less grumpy.”

Her only saving grace was that the guys were too far out in the water to hear any of this. Jace and Aegon were already trying to drown each other, waves crashing around them as they wrestled.

But Aemond stood farther out, water lapping at his waist, arms crossed, watching the spectacle with mild amusement.

She had no doubt Aemond suffered the same treatment this morning. Hounded with questions and easy ribbings. But unlike her, Aemond could silence any incessant question with a pointed glare and a well placed ‘fuck off’. 

As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned, his hair sticking to his face. She watched his gaze drift to the necklace that sat snug at her collarbone, and then back up to her eyes, the faintest smirk on his face.

Maybe the rest of this holiday wouldn't be so bad.

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