#they are cousins a year apart in age but who cares
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Cats that have not yet gotten littermates:
Wonderheart
Rosepaw
Whiskerpaw
Autumnpaw
Squealpaw
Raccoonpaw
Midnightmoon
Foxkit
Daykit
And these are just from the last two batches of cats I made.
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gojonanami ¡ 2 months ago
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❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 ❞
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❝ SATORU GOJO HAS LOVED YOU SINCE YOU WERE KIDS - HE’S GONNA MAKE YOU HIS ! ❞
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✧ series: call it what you want (part one)
✧ pairing: younger!satoru gojo x reader
✧ summary: satoru gojo fell in love with you from the moment he met you at eight years old. and now, in his twenties, when he sees you again after you move back to be closer to your aunt and your cousin, suguru, he knows — he has to make you his by the end of the summer.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, eventual smut, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating, gojo is four years younger than you, rich boy!gojo, suguru is your little cousin, very fluffy, slow burn, like they don't even kiss, but they will :), love at first sight for gojo, naoya is your ex,
✧ w/c: 15,285
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“Never thought we’d be doing this, did you?” Satoru muttered in your ear, breath fanning hot against your neck, “be a little quieter, sweetheart, otherwise Suguru might hear us,” 
You whine, but his fingers drag against your kiss bitten lips, until the digits slide into your mouth, as his hips rut against yours. And you didn’t think you’d ever be in position with your cousin’s best friend — pressed to the doorway of your apartment where Suguru could walk in at anytime. 
This isn't what you thought would happen when you invited him over to talk. This isn't what you thought would happen when you agreed to pretend to date him. This isn't what you thought about -- but how could you think about anything with the way his breath felt against your skin?
He loved you -- loved you since you were kids, and he couldn't let you go, not like this. Not when he had you.
Not that you even wanted him to.
You didn’t think you’d shiver as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck, tongue flicking against your burning skin. You never thought you’d want to moan his name, like you had, far too many times. 
“You may have never thought about this, Princess, but I sure have,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, the wet sounds your skin slapping together, as he reaches around your body, pinned on your stomach to the mattress, to rub at your swollen clit, drawing a muffled cry from your lips, “far too many times,” 
In fact, Satoru Gojo knew exactly the first time he fell for you. It was the day he first met you. 
“Be my girlfriend!” 
It was less of a question and more of a statement.  
One declared in the doorway of your room, with flushed cheeks and flowers in hand. And they weren’t your cheeks or hands, but your baby cousin’s best friend. 
The first time Satoru Gojo asked you out was at the ripe old age of eleven, but truth be told he had held this crush since the moment he saw you when he had come over to Suguru’s house for the first time, almost three years ago now.
Your fingers brushed his as you gently took the flowers, “Satoru, you know I care about you, but not like that. You’re better off seeing other people your own age, ok?” You smiled at him, the same way you always did, a slight pout on his lips as he nodded, saying nothing more. 
And you knew you were right — there was no fucking question that you were right. He was eleven and you were fifteen — an age gap untenable and unreachable.
But now—
“Long time no see,” Satoru said, lips curled in an all too cocky smile that you couldn’t believe belonged to the same blushing kid who confessed so earnestly back then, “it’s been too long,” your name rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that was the same but all too different. 
But he wasn’t a kid anymore — far from it. It had been over a decade since you had seen him, as the summer he confessed was the last one you had spent at your aunt and uncle’s home. And you and your family moved overseas shortly after that, and you didn’t return until now, four years after you graduated college, for a job offer you couldn’t pass up. 
And you didn’t realize that so much time had passed. 
But he did. 
“Eh? What do you mean you can’t help me unpack today, Sugu?” you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder, as you rip open the tape on yet another box you had hauled into the proper room to unpack, “you told me—“ 
“I told you I’d help you unpack if I had time. But now, I’m stuck at work until the evening,” you heard your cousin sigh over the phone, “But don’t worry — you’ll have help—“ 
You’re too busy trying to rip the tape off as you rip into Suguru to notice the door creaking open behind you, “Suguru, I swear to god if you’re sending a total random stranger to help me—“ 
“Not a total stranger,” a voice says behind you, and your head whips around so quick, you nearly drop your phone, gripping it, “unless not seeing me for years makes me one,” 
A mess of white locks and sunglasses tilted downward to reveal a hint of his cerulean eyes that you could never forget — but still, you barely recognize the man that has them. Even if the grin on his lips with the lilting sound of his voice told you that he very much recognized you. 
“Satoru?” Suguru’s explanation falls on deaf ears, as Satoru’s eyes don’t bother to take in your new place, all too focused on you, hands slipping into his pockets, “you—“ 
He steps forward and plucks the phone from your fingers, “Yo Suguru, I told you it’d be better as a surprise,” and you gape at him, as his grin curls wider, “yeah, yeah, I didn’t take the phone to have you lecturing me — I get enough of that from my dad,” and Suguru says something that makes Satoru’s cheeks flush, and he hangs up, before his attention returns to you, “so, shall we unpack?” 
A few minutes turns into hours of hauling boxes inside and then unpacking them. It’s relatively silent, surprisingly for Satoru. The silence was a far cry from the boy who couldn’t shut up for two seconds, telling you about the test he aced or something stupid that one of his classmates said or asking you about your day. 
Instead you watch him haul boxes like they were filled with styrofoam and air from the truck outside, and then lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, a flash of his abs shiny with perspiration. Your eyes dart away, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the contents of this box of kitchenware you opened up, cheeks burning, wondering when did the little boy you looked after become a man? 
“Princess, where do you want this?” Satoru lifts a box, and you can’t see the writing on it from the angle he picks it up. 
“Do you still have to call me Princess?” The embarrassing nickname your aunt had given you still stuck — the one that Suguru would always tease you with, while Satoru’s decidedly lacked any malice, “my aunt only called me that because she wanted a girl so bad,” 
“Is that why Suguru is growing out his hair now? Trying to fulfill her dreams?” You snort, as you walk over to him, “it still fits you regardless of the reason Princess,” 
You’re close, even with the box providing glancing around the box until you find it scrawled on the box underneath his arm — his very…muscular arm, veins bulging and muscles tense underneath the weight of the box—
“So this is stuff for my bedroom, you can just leave it on the floor, it’s right over here,” you lead him over and he places down the box, “I think that’s mostly it, I’m sorry Suguru made you come down here to help,” 
“You don’t need to apologize, I wanted to see you,” and you smile softly, “it’s been too long,” 
“It really has,” and your neck strains a little with how he towered over you, “can't believe you’re the same little boy I used to babysit,” 
And he rolls his eyes, “Suguru would say it’s arguable I could still use a babysitter,” and you chuckle, “I’m not so little anymore, but I wouldn’t mind if you were my babysitter,” 
Was he? No. No, he wasn’t. 
Right? 
“Stop fucking around,” you shake your head, as you head into the kitchen, “do you want to wash up, and then maybe I’ll order take out to thank you?” You’re turning on the faucet. 
You don’t notice the slight pout on his lips, one he schools into a smile as you glance back at him, blinking as you find him shirtless. 
Fuck. How was it possible for a person to be this gorgeous? Sweat slid down his body, slipping between the dips of his chest and ridges of his abs until disappearing into the fabric of his pants, or somewhere hidden— 
You look away — “I’d rather take a shower. Do you mind?” And you force your voice not to come out a squeak, busying yourself with washing your hands, just so you don’t have to look. 
“Yeah, of course, the bathroom is just around the corner. There should already be fresh towels inside,” and yet his steps grow closer, as you glance back, “uh—“ 
He’s still fucking shirtless. 
“Instead of take out, can we grab dinner somewhere? You haven’t been back to the area recently so it’s a good chance to show you around,” 
“You really don’t have to—“ 
“I want to, Princess,” he cuts you off, reaching around you to grab a water bottle off the counter, “get ready while I clean up?” 
And you bite your lip, “Okay, okay,” and he grins back, a glimpse of the little boy that beams at you when you’d praise him for a high mark on a test. 
“It’s a date!” And he’s off, disappearing into the bathroom, and you’re left there, wondering — what had you gotten yourself into? 
~~~
“So,” Satoru lifts a spoonful of his dessert — a fruit parfait with a sugar coma inducing amount of whipped cream — and you were almost relieved to see some things about him hadn’t changed. How many times had you scolded him as a kid not to eat so much sugar — and he still hasn’t kicked the habit. You bit back your chuckle, as he spoke, “did you get dumped?” 
You almost choke on your drink, as you splutter for a moment, before glaring at him. 
And yet the more they stayed the same. 
“I see you’re as subtle as you were when you were 11,” you mutter, setting your drink down, as you wipe your mouth with a napkin. Satoru tilts his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 
“So you dumped him?” He leans back, “I didn’t know you had such high standards,” your cheeks burn, distracting yourself with becoming enthralled in the menu — Satoru had dragged you to a hole in the wall barbecue place (after your insistence that you didn’t want anything fancy after unpacking for hours). 
“How did you know I broke—“ and you cut yourself off at the obviousness of the answer, slapping another piece of meat on the grill, the sizzle punctuated by your words, “I’m going to murder him,” 
“Well, you’re in the right place to dispose of his body,” Satoru licks the spoon clean, before sticking it back in the whipped cream, “why did you break up with him?” 
You shrugged, “I realized he was a narcissistic prick who only wanted me as a trophy,” and Satoru whistled lowly,  “I’m done with dating losers. And dating in general,” 
“I don’t think you should give up on dating just because you had a few bad experiences,” his voice grows soft, “you deserve to be happy and taken care of, even if you have bad taste,” 
And you pout, “I don’t have-“ and he tilts his head, and you lift a few pieces of meat from the grill onto your plate, tongs clattering slightly as you set it down, “fuck, I do,” you groan, shaking your head, “that’s why I had to get out of there. Just needed a fresh start you know?” 
“Sometimes that’s just what you need,” and your lips curl. 
“Sounds like you speak from experience,” and his eyes flit up to yours, gleaming in the low light of the restaurant, cerulean irises catching the drops of light like comets across his gaze. 
“Don’t know what you mean, Princess,” he busies himself with his parfait, and you scoff. 
“Come on, half the girls in this place are glaring at me while I sit here, the waitress has been flirting with you, and now they had brought you out the biggest dessert that I’m starting to wonder if they even serve it here,” he spares a glance around, several gasps from giggling girls who avert their gazes, before his eyes are back on you. 
“Jealous?” You roll your eyes — he wasn’t lacking for ego at least. 
“More like wondering what a guy like you is still doing single,” and he sighs, leaning back, with a tilt of his head. 
“You sure are curious about me,” and his gaze softens for a moment, while he picks at his dessert, scooping the strawberry off the top, “there’s only really been one person that I really wanted,” his tone grew more serious, lips in a bittersweet smile, “but she’s never really looked me like that,” 
“Don’t tell me it’s one of those things where she rejected you and you have to have her now,” and he chuckles, shaking his head, gaze far too wistful. 
His words are slow, as slow as the ice melting in your glass, “It’s more of if I don’t have her, I don’t want anyone else,” and your heart squeezed — would you ever have someone care so deeply for you? 
“Then why haven’t you said anything?” you picked up another piece of meat off the grill, “anyone would be lucky to be with you,” and you meant it — he was blunt, but also kind, sweet, not to mention rich and you flushed as you thought back to his hiked up shirt — good looking. 
But he only stares back at you, tilting his head — expression unreadable, an emotion you can’t grasp before it’s hidden under his gaze’s tempered waters, “Are you included, Princess?” 
There’s a pause, as you almost chuckle, but your laugh dying in your throat at his expression — that same smirk, but the way he looks at you stops your mind in its tracks — only one word rolling around in your head: what? 
And your brow furrows, your lips parting in a response you don’t have — only questions, ones you don’t get to ask as Suguru slides in beside you. 
“Sorry, I’m late,” Suguru sighs, the moment broken, and you don’t catch Satoru’s expression, too distracted by your cousin, “got stuck in a staff meeting,” 
“I told you academia is hell,” you elbow him, and Suguru rolls his eyes, as he shrugs off his suit coat, “were these meetings the reasons you got held up or are they just an excuse so you didn’t have to help me?” 
“Who said it can’t be both?” And he earns a smack to his shoulder, your attention turning back to Satoru, his gaze fixed outside. 
“You’re unusually quiet, Satoru” Suguru kicks him lightly under the table, “not like you,” 
He looks at you first — and you grasp the emotion he had hid before — what was it? Sadness? Longing? — right before it’s gone again as he slides his mask back on, grinning as he always does. 
“What can I say? The view outside is much better than your ugly mug,” and the two of them begin to bicker, and you lean back in your seat, a smile pulling at your lips, even as you glanced back at Satoru. 
And now you wondered if you would ever get an answer to your questions. Or maybe, you sipped your drink, it was better not to have it answered at all. 
~~~
Satoru Gojo was eleven years old when he fell in love with you. It was from the moment he met you. 
And there hasn’t been anyone else since. 
He supposed it was inevitable in a way — since Suguru was his best friend, and his first, and when his family finally decided to enroll him in school, instead opting for private tutors, for the social aspect of making connections, of course. Because what else was your eleven year old son good for then helping to make future business deals easier? 
But Satoru made friends with the one person who couldn’t help their deals — Suguru Geto, one of the only scholarship students in the entire school. And Satoru’s want to avoid spending his days with servants or on the rare occasion, dealing with his dad’s lecture for getting in another ‘disagreement’ with one of his classmates (that ended with that classmate crying after Satoru evaded his punch and kicked him in the shin), ended up with him at Suguru’s place. A lot. 
Then soon enough, he was spending most of his summers there too. And that’s when he saw you. 
“You said your cousin’s here? Is she nice?” Satoru asked, taking off his shoes, as Suguru shut the door behind them. 
“She is, except when she’s being a pain about homework. And when she gets mad, she reminds me of my mom,” Suguru grimaced, as he walked past him, calling out for you. You rounded the corner, book in hand, and Satoru’s eyes grew wide. 
“Hey Sugu, you brought a friend?” You walked over, still clad in your high school uniform, before introducing yourself, and offering him a warm smile, “it’s nice to meet you. I’m Suguru’s cousin,” 
Satoru didn’t know what this feeling was — and he wouldn’t until a few more summers passed, and his hormones kicked in — but all he knew was that he would do anything to see you smile like that at him again. And he did — he would spend as much time as he could with you — talking to you about a test he aced, about something funny that happened at school, or even ratting on Suguru about what he was up to (earning him many knocks to the head by his best friend). But every time you smiled or laughed, it was worth it — worth every second he spent counting down the time to summer break so he could see you again. 
But he didn’t know his seconds would run out so soon — and he only learned one random day going home with Suguru, from a snippet of a conversation he had with his mom. 
“I know, I know she’s coming next week,” Satoru’s interest hadn’t been peaked by Suguru’s conversation until then, because he knew exactly who they were talking about. After all, you always came right at the start of break, and finally he could see you again — and maybe this time, he could tell you how he felt. 
“I know, I know it’s her last time here so it has to be perfect,” and Satoru’s head snapped back to Suguru, last time? “I will,” and Suguru hangs up, a sigh on his lips, “my mom is being so annoying about my cousin. So what it’s her last time staying with us? It doesn’t mean we have to—“ 
“What do you mean it’s her last time?” Satoru kept his tone steady and slow, even as his heart thrummed against his ribs as if it was a xylophone, “she always comes every summer—“ 
“Of high school,” Suguru corrected him, “she is applying to university this year — most of them are abroad, and it seems likely she won’t be back in Japan, not for a while,” Suguru continued to complain on their way back to his place, but all Satoru could do was think about you. 
It was your last summer with him. His last chance to make a move, to be something more than your younger cousin’s friend. His last chance to make you see him as a man, not a kid. 
He had to confess, his fingers curled into fists, before the end of the summer. He would make you his girlfriend — one way or another. 
And he did confess back then, Satoru thought, as he picked up a photo, wrinkled and yellowed at the corners, a picture that Suguru’s mom had taken of you and him the summer you had left. A candid of him and you looking at each other — one that Suguru’s mom had slipped to him with a knowing smile and a wink (one that had mortified him as a teenager). 
He was always looking at you — no matter where he was, his eyes always found your form, a magnet to its opposite pole, and he didn’t know how to stop you from drawing him in. It had been over a decade and he still couldn’t. 
He stared at your smiling face, the very same face that had looked at you with a smile fading to confusion this evening. He had gotten so close to asking you — to telling you how he felt — and he flips to the next picture, a scowl on his face as a picture of him and Suguru with his smug smile stared back at him. If only fucking Suguru hadn’t interrupted. 
He shook his head, flipping back to his picture of you. This wasn’t the summer and he wasn’t a kid anymore. And you weren’t out of his reach, bound for another country across the ocean. No, you were here — only a short drive away. 
And he made a promise to himself — he would get you to fall in love with him, before the end of this summer. 
~~~
You hate first days. 
“Did you see the guy waiting outside?” one woman whispered not so softly as you passed by. 
“Yeah looks like he’s waiting for her,” the other’s lips formed a frown but only to hide her smirk. 
From the time you were a kid, your first day of school was something you had all the time from your family moving around. You were always the new kid — the one who would be met with wide eyes and curiosity, only to be tossed aside a few days later. 
But this was a fresh start that you had wanted — a new job far away from where you had started, with new responsibilities — a first day you had looked forward to, until it went so downhill. 
And it was all your ex’s fault. 
You texted Suguru — is it too early to quit on the first day? 
He replies, well it’s been four hours, think you’ve lasted through one of my dad’s long winded stories longer than that. What happened? 
You glanced outside towards the front of the building. It was more like ‘who happened?’ 
It was an innocuous enough morning, of introductions, trainings, orientation, and finally computer set up. You were rifling through your paperwork, trying to figure out what sheet looked the least daunting when someone called for you. 
“There’s someone looking for you outside the lobby,” you saw a flurry of looks shared and smirks shot in your direction, and when you arrived downstairs you knew why. 
What. The. Fuck. 
You couldn’t help it. You bursted outside, “what are you doing here?” It was your ex — the very same ex who had started at the same overseas company after you both graduated and the one you had. And again, had chosen to follow you here. 
“Waiting for you to change yer mind,” Naoya tilts his head, hands in his pocket, “and I know you will, because you love me,” he raises his voice to catch the eye of several passerby, and you grab his wrist, dragging him away. 
“Fuck off,” you hiss under your breath, “I told you it’s over, and don’t you have a fucking job?” 
“Did you forget? I’m rich, another reason ya can’t do better than me,” Naoya’s lips curl into that same grin, one you knew as charming once, until you saw past his pretty pink lips and glimpsed the sharp fangs behind them, “I took time off. Did ya think it was a coincidence we ended up at the same company?” 
You gritted your teeth, “Naoya—“ and he breaks from your grip, instead his fingers dig into your wrist. 
“All ya are is me. All that you have is me. And all you will have is me,” he dared closer, breath warming your lips, as he took hold of your other wrist and tugged you close, “the sooner you accept that, the better, doll,” 
‘Doll.’ The term of endearment you had seen as precious to you. Something you always loved to hear roll off his tongue, the word you had learned to learned to reply to, even more than your own name. The one you regarded with such love had burned, burned until the flames licked your skin and knew what it really meant — a doll with strings, one he was meant to be the master of. 
“Don’t call me that,” you rip your hands away, “leave. You’re embarrassing yourself,” 
“Am I?” He tilts his head, jerking his head in the direction of your building where your offices had a clear view of this, “or am I just embarrassing you?” 
You stared out the window for a moment and you knew he was still out there — judging but the way your phone was on the verge of suicide by notification, he was still very much there. And now, all people would know of you is the new worker with a crazy stalker ex. 
I’m calling the police, Suguru’s text popped up, what’s your workplace’s address? 
You think I hadn’t thought of that, Sugu? You sigh, he’s not doing anything. He’s on a public sidewalk. They can’t do anything to him. 
Another text: when do you get out? You glance at the time, seeing another two coworkers whisper to each other, stealing looks. 
An eternity — In another two hours. 
I’ll handle it. Just wait in the lobby after work. And you frown. 
Sugu, I can handle it. I don’t need you to come down here. 
You always fought your battles. You didn’t need anything else to — or anyone else to pick them for you. Not even your baby cousin — no matter how sweet his intentions were. 
Don’t worry. I’m not coming down. And you frown, staring at the text, before your phone rings, and you groan as ‘Assistant Director’ flashes on the screen.  
You were so fired. 
You weren’t — as you shut the door of his office behind you. However, he did advise you that this company had a strict no nonsense policy and did want personal drama to be dredged up in the office. And you were given the day to sort out your “mess.” 
You scrub a hand down your face, but it wasn’t even your mess, and how would you fix it? He wasn’t going to listen to you. You sit at your desk, packing up your bag for the day. And your phone vibrates. 
Come down. 
You hesitate, But he’s still downstairs. 
Just go. 
Fuck. You sling your bag over your shoulder, piercing eyes digging into your back, vultures circling an already dead carcass, whispering still even as the elevators doors shut. 
And you almost wish they never opened when you see what’s waiting for you outside. 
Fuck. 
You grit your teeth, stomach in absolute knots as if to brace yourself for the complete shitstorm you’re about to deal with. 
“Satoru?” 
Satoru Gojo leaned back against his expensive (likely imported) car, shiny as it was new, sunglasses glinting in the light, but not brighter than the grin he gives you. He holds out your favorite drink, a tilt of his head. 
“Are you ready to go?” 
You glance around, as he places the drink in your hand, “But what about—“
“Let go of me!” 
Satoru’s lips curl, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, “Oh, I’ve gotten him handled,” 
Naoya stood between two men restraining him, both in suits, as his face contorted in anger, veins bulging, eyes darting between the two of you, “Do you know who I am? I’m the heir to the Zenin Corporation — you cannot treat me like this. I’ll have you—“ 
“Heir? Really?” Satoru stepped forward, blocking him from your view, “is that right? I thought the Zenin hadn’t decided announced a successor yet,” 
You furrow your brow — how does Satoru— but then you’re being put into a car with Satoru’s arm curled around your waist, as he opens the door and tucks you into the passenger seat. 
And now you won’t know. At least not now. 
Naoya scoffed, “And who are you to know anything about—“ 
“Have you heard of the Six Eyes Corp,” and Naoya’s eyes narrow, “you should have because we account for a large chunk of your business. And if that support were to disappear,” he flashes his blue eyes at him over the rim of his sunglasses, “I’d hate to tell them it’s because of this,” 
“You fucking liar, like you could tell anyone anything—“ 
Satoru chuckles, “You’re right, I am a liar,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I don’t need to tell anyone. Except my father,” 
Naoya’s sneer fades into confusion, his eyes narrowed, “Don’t fucking tell me—” 
“Then I won’t,” he steps forward, hands slipping into his pockets, “but if you ever step in her presence again,” he jerks his head towards you in his car, “then I will, and you don’t wanna know what happens if I do,” he steps in front of Naoya, back blocking your view so you don’t see him grab Naoya’s wrist, blue eyes aflame with something far deeper than anger, “because it will much worse,” he squeezes Naoya’s wrist hard making him flinch as he grits his teeth at Satoru’s smiling face, “who knows? Maybe I’ll break your wrist next time.” 
He turns around, waving off the guards, as he makes his way back to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat, smile fading to concern. 
“Are you alright, Princess?” You’re watching those people drag Naoya away, his hateful gaze trying and failing to get a last look at you as the guard takes a hand to the back of his head to force his gaze forward. 
“Where are they taking him?” 
Satoru starts the car, the quiet rumble of the engine filling the silence of his pause, “just to the proper authorities. He won’t bother you again,” 
You bit your bottom lip, eyes burning with tears — and you don’t know whether if it’s embarrassment or relief, “I’m sorry—“ 
“Don’t finish that sentence,” and your eyes slide to his, a soft smile on his lips, “you don’t have anything to be sorry about. Or to thank me for,” he cuts you off as your lips part, “is your wrist okay?” 
You glance down and see the slight redness still lingered, a final parting gift, and your other hand closes over the wrist, “it hurts a little, but I’ll ice it when I get home,” 
“We’ll go to a hospital to have it looked at,” and you’re shaking your head. 
“I don’t want to sit—“ 
“Then I’ll hire a doctor to come see you,” and you stare at him, as he rolls to a stop at a red light…is that a pout? “I just want you to be ok, Princess, please,” 
You bite back a small smile, and ignore the flutter in your heart, “Fine, you win, let’s go to a walk-in clinic,” and you spot his shoulders relax, “but it’s not really fair when you give me your infamous pout,” 
He raises an eyebrow, “‘Infamous?’” 
“You used to whip that out all the time on me and on my aunt when you were a kid — it did always work,” 
“Not always,” he replies, as he turns into the parking for the walk-in clinic, “in fact, I remember a time that it specifically did not work,” 
“And when was that?” You tilt your head. 
And he smiles, “When I asked you to be my girlfriend,” and you furrow your brow, nearly forgetting the memory, until it hits you. 
“Oh my god, the last summer I spent here,” you covered your mouth with the tips of your fingers, a chuckle on your lips, “you were very direct,” 
“I could say the same about you,” and you roll your eyes. 
“You were a kid. You were way too young for me, you know that,” you unbuckle your seatbelt, “plus now I bet you could get any person you want. That’s why I was surprised why you didn’t have a girlfriend,”
“Like I said, there’s only one woman in the world for me,” his eyes find yours, cerulean bathed in sunlight, light catching across his irises, “and only one woman I ever wanted to be with,”
Oh. 
Oh. 
No, no, that couldn’t be it — you couldn’t be her, not after all this time—
You blink, “Satoru, you don’t—“ 
“Well our age difference isn’t a problem anymore is it?” Your brain is struggling to process, lips parting with no words, “Princess,” his fingers brush yours, gently grazing your hand, as your gaze finds his again, “when are you going to take me seriously?” 
“Satoru—“ 
“Just don’t say no,” Satoru cuts you off, pulling his hand away, “don’t say no and think about it,” you open your mouth only to waver at the sight of the pout on his lips and you sigh. 
It was hard to say no, especially right now. 
“Okay I won’t say no,” you slip from the car, lips breaking into a wide grin, before sticking your head inside, “don’t smile like that. It’s not a yes,” you huff, cheeks burning and stomach erupting in butterflies. 
“Not yet,” Satoru says as you shut the door, “not yet, Princess.” 
~~~
“Huh? You did what?” 
You loved your aunt. You really did. She and her husband had taken you in when your parents were too busy working to properly take care of you during the summers. But times like this reminded you—
—-she truly was her mother’s sister. 
“Well your mother was telling me that you haven’t dated anyone since you’ve been back—“ 
“It's only been a month!” You had barely finished getting unpacked, and in fact, you still had at least five boxes still stacked up in the closet, “I’m not interested in dating, I’m trying to focus on work,” you rubbed the back of your head, “new topic, please,” as you sip on your drink. 
And after the debacle Naoya had caused, you needed to — you had put up with the whispers and stares for a few days, but since Naoya had stayed away, the rumors faded with time. Now things had died down for the most part. Except for—
“Has Satoru still been picking you up?” You nearly do a spit take, but instead you choke down the water, coughing, “eh? Are you okay, honey?” 
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” your cheeks burn at the thought of Satoru — he was always a bold kid, but you didn’t think he’d confess to being in love with you all this time. Especially now as a man — and not a kid, “yeah he’s still picking me up,” 
When he had confessed to you all those years ago as a young teenager, you had thought nothing of it. Except that it was a crush on his best friend’s older cousin — something that would pass easily with time. You hadn’t even thought of it in all these years. 
But now, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 
Especially when he kept showing up to pick you up from work. And now you were stirring other sorts of rumors. 
After he had taken you to the walk-in clinic, he had driven you home, making sure to check if your place was secure enough, and that you weren’t too shaken up. 
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off to Suguru’s?” he had asked, crossing his arms, “I could also drag his ass here, he owes me anyway,” 
“No, no I’m really fine,” you chewed your lip, looking down, “you sure he’s not going to come back?” and he leans down, forcing you to meet his gaze, as he tilts his head. 
“Sweetheart, you think I’d even leave your place if I thought there was a chance of him coming back?” he offers you a smile, and you scoff softly, shaking your head, “trust me, he won’t be bothering you again, not while I’m around,” and he added, “and I’m not going anywhere.” 
And you didn’t know what to do with the promise in his words. Because you knew he meant that — in more than one way. 
But even so, he hadn’t brought up his confession — not once. 
“He’s so sweet isn’t he? Suguru is always so busy but Satoru’s making time to pick you instead,” your aunt gushes, and you shake your head, your aunt did have a habit of being a little hard on her son, “by the way, would you mind stopping by the house today?” 
“Why’s that?” 
And well, how did you end up here? 
You stood in front of the entrance to a very expensive looking building with a very intimidating doorman, with a large tote bag full of food that your aunt had insisted you drop off. She had given you his address, but by the time you arrived, you realized that you didn’t even have his number. And now Suguru or your aunt weren’t picking up their phones. 
Fuck. 
You were internally debating whether to talk to the doorman or to just go home and deal with this another time, when you heard someone speak behind you. 
“Looking for someone?” You jump slightly, whirling when you see Satoru, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips, as he lifts his sunglasses to meet your gaze, “didn’t think I’d find you hanging outside my apartment building, princess,” 
“Well, you show up outside my workplace and I’ll be showing up outside your apartment building,” the words leave your mouth without much thought, as your cheeks burn at the implication, “I mean—” 
“Is that supposed to discourage me from picking you up?” he grins, “Doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me,” 
You roll your eyes, before holding up the bag, “My aunt asked me to drop off some dishes for you. She’s worried you’re eating too many sweets,” 
He takes the bag from your hand, fingers brushing, as he shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have ever told her that I had cake for dinner,” and you snort, unable to hide your giggles, “what’s so funny?” 
“I can see a lot about you has changed, but your sweet tooth is just as bad as when you were a kid,” and you see him scratch the back of his head, “is your favorite dessert still mochi?” 
“You still remember that about me?” A smile pulling at his lips, and your cheeks burn, but you refuse to waver. 
“Well, it’s hard to forget you threw up all over the rug when you ate too many,” You bite back a smile when you spot the tips of his ears burn red, as he gapes at you. 
“Did you have to bring that up?” He mutters, a small pout on his lips, and you snort, as he can’t help the curl of his lips, “now, c’mon,” his fingers brush the small of your back. 
“Satoru, where—“ but his hand is firm as he guides you towards his building. 
He flashes you a grin as he signs you in with the doorman, “Do you think I’d let you come all this way without staying for dinner?” 
~~~
“Do you want anything to drink?” Satoru’s penthouse was nothing less than immaculate — high ceilings, pristine floors, and an interior designed living space. You swore in some places it was still shiny — and you felt very out of place in your casual wear for the weekend. 
“Just a water,” you reply, as he opens his refrigerator and you raise an eyebrow at the fully stocked compartments, “wow,” you murmur, and he’s pulling a water and a fancy looking juice out of it. 
“What was that?” He raises a brow, and you stammer a moment, “c’mon princess, share with the class,” 
“Just surprised your refrigerator isn’t just stuffed with just desserts, sweets, and ice cream,” and he hands you your water, before sitting beside you, spread out on the couch, as he always was. 
“Oh it is, it’s just very well hidden,” and you snort, as he throws his arm over the back of the couch, “I may be an adult but I’m not going to be a boring old geezer like my father,” 
“I don’t think I could ever see you becoming boring, Satoru,” you chuckle, and he tilts his head. 
“Is that a rare compliment from you, princess?” And his grin only makes your cheeks warm, as you roll your eyes.
“More like an observation,” you reply, as your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to check — who would be messaging you now? 
Oh fuck. 
“You ok there?” 
No, no you weren’t. Because your lovely aunt had given your number to a prospective match, and now he was texting you. A lot. 
“It’s nothing,” you sigh, shaking your head, putting your phone on ‘do not disturb.” You would have dinner first, and then you’d murder your aunt after dessert, “do you want me to help take out dinner?” 
“You expect me to believe you don’t hire a chef to make these sides?” The food was spread out across the table, many of the dishes your aunt had made plated and presented, but along with sides that Satoru had made, “Suguru had made it seem as if the only thing you ever made was microwave ramen,” 
“Well jokes on him, I burned it the one time I tried,” he grinned, “but I did learn to cook, I just never bothered to cook for Suguru,” 
“And why’s that?” You take a bite of the pickled radish he had prepared. 
“Because I’m not trying to impress him, am I?” And you nearly choke slightly, as you manage to swallow, “you should know I’m so much more than a pretty face, Princess,” 
You sigh, “Satoru—“
“Have you thought about what I said at all?” 
And you had. A lot more than you cared to admit. Especially after all he had done. Everything he had to Naoya to defend you. And just about him — how sweet he’s been, how protective, how kind, and how you’d like nothing more than to do the same for him—
But…
“I have, but Satoru, our ages—“ 
“We’re both adults. We both graduated. We haven’t seen each other in over a decade,” his leg brushes yours as he shifts closer, ���are you telling me you don’t feel anything?” 
You didn’t know how to answer that — not when you didn’t really know yourself. And you always knew the answer — you knew you wanted to study abroad, you knew you had to leave Naoya’s company, and you knew you wanted to live here — so why was this the one time you didn’t? And why was he the one thing you were unsure of? 
You bite your bottom lip, “But, Suguru—“ and he scoffs softly. 
“Are you really thinking about Suguru right now?” he asks, “or would you rather date the guy blowing up your phone earlier?” 
Your eyebrows knit together, “How did you know—“ 
“Well I know it’s not Naoya, and I heard from Suguru that your aunt wanted to set you up,” fucking Suguru—and your lips twist into a pout, he tilts his head, not bothering to hide his smile, “if you dated me, you could get your aunt off your back,” he muses, leaning against his elbow, “she always did say I was family, and I’m not looking to be your brother,” 
Your cheeks burn at his words, “Satoru,”
“Think about it, Princess, you don’t have to give me an answer now,” but his eyes flicker to your phone, “but I know you’ll find me once you meet any one of these guys your aunt sets you up with,” 
You grimace at your phone, picking it up to see the messages from the guy your aunt had given your number to, “fuck,” you murmur, locking your phone before tossing it away, an image of you trapped at a dinner across the most boring man alive. And then you glance up at Satoru, still a smug smile on his lips, and then back to your phone. 
“What’s your plan?” 
~~~
“So, I heard you turned down the boy I gave your number to,” 
Your aunt hardly pulled punches. 
She never did when you and Suguru were growing up — she always knew what the two of you got up to, even if you were both sure she could never find out — she always did. Even the one time that the two of you had snuck out to get ramen on a late night, Suguru’s parents were in a dead sleep — but by the time you both snuck back in, she was waiting for both of you in the hallway. But this time, she wasn’t even leading with a wind-up before swinging. 
And then she adds, eyes narrowing, “He said you declined because you’re dating someone,” 
She was going for the kill. 
She turns to grab the whistling tea kettle, turning it off, before pouring the hot water into two cups. You force yourself not to bite your bottom lip, the smallest tell was dangerous, even with her back turned, “Is there anything he didn’t tell you?” She’s placing the tea cups one by one on the tray, as if laying out her pieces on a board only to corner you. 
Your aunt frowns, “His mother told me,” great, even better — he was a momma’s boy, and now you were starting to wonder just how many bullets did you dodge,  “are you seeing someone?” 
You were beginning to regret this plan — and you don’t know why you let Satoru talk you into it. 
“You want me to do what?” You stared at Satoru as if he had suggested going diving with sharks, which is not far from what he was suggesting, “tell my aunt that we’re together. No way,” 
“Aw, am I that embarrassing to date, Princess?” And you roll your eyes. 
“Yes, for me,” and he’s tilting his head, “my aunt will immediately tell my uncle and Suguru — and I don’t know which one of them would kill you first,” your uncle wasn’t one for words or conflict, but he had a soft spot for you — and a fist for anyone that tried to come date you without his approval. 
“Eh? Doesn’t Uncle like me?” And you snort, the one sided conversations that Satoru had with your uncle that usually ended with your uncle excusing himself to get away from that “annoying moron.” 
“He doesn’t hate you but,” you choose your words carefully, “he doesn’t prefer you,” 
Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms, “Well Auntie loves me, and I had a plan for this,” and she did, she had quite the soft spot for Satoru, ever since he was a kid. You couldn’t exactly blame her — he looked like an angel, even if the words that left his mouth made it seem like the contrary, his fingers brushing against a strand of your hair, “and soon I’ll make you love me too,” 
Fucking cocky bastard, you thought to yourself, cheeks burning at the thought of the smirk on his lips, but you’re jarred back to reality as you hear the clattering of cups and spoons.  
“I am,” you reply, and your aunt’s head whips around, the clinking of the glasses cutting through the pause, “it’s new,” you add, as she sets down the tea cups, placing the tea dispensers in each one, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything,” 
“Why wouldn’t you? This is wonderful,” she blinked, and her brow wrinkles, “unless it’s that Naoya—“ you flinch at the thought of him. 
“No, I’m done with him,” you wave her off quickly, wrinkling your nose at the thought of that bastard, grabbing the tea cup, the scent of green tea wafting from the steam that warmed your face, as you blew air to cool it off, “it’s someone I reconnected with here,” 
Your aunt raises an eyebrow, “So soon? Is it someone from work?” Again, is the word she implies with the sentence, a sharp tone that nicked your armor. 
“No, it isn’t,” and she’s sipping her tea, and you take a sip only to burn your tongue, “but he is younger,” 
“That’s not a problem if he’s not too much younger — how old is he?” and this was exactly why you hadn’t wanted to tell your aunt, it was more of an interrogation than a conversation. 
“He’s about Suguru’s age,” and she’s tilting her head, “Suguru introduced us,” and that wasn’t a lie — it was true — both in the past and now. 
“Really? And Sugu is okay with you dating his friend?” Your aunt may be gossip and a meddler, but she wasn’t a fool, your hesitation is your end, “and I assume you’re telling me all this to get me off your case and to ask not to tell Suguru,” she sighs. 
“Auntie—“ 
“You know I don’t like lying for either of you—“ 
“But—“ 
“No, I can’t—“ 
“How about lying for me?” Satoru stands in the doorway, head tilted, a smile on his lips. And your aunt blinks before she slowly puts the puzzle pieces together, a mix of emotions crossing her expression — confusion, disbelief, and maybe a hint of joy, before she settled on a neutral 
“Satoru—“ 
He frowns, “Auntie, you know Suguru will kill me for dating his cousin, please,” and then he does what he does best — pouting. 
And your aunt breaks — with a one hit-KO. 
“You must have been blessed by some needlessly annoying god,” you murmur as he walks you back to your place, sun gleaming as it gave off its last rays of light before setting for the night,  “because I don’t know how you still get her to fall for that,” 
“I was born blessed,” and you snort, as you catch sight of his smile out of the corner of your eye, “and speaking of which, when’s our first date?” 
“Straight to the point, huh?” You stop walking, hands in your pockets, “Satoru—“ 
“Don’t tell me you’re about to launch into another speech about how you can’t date me,” he gives an exaggerated sigh, “I could go back to your aunt and tell her how you broke my heart and let her pull out list of aunties who have sons who are excited to meet you—“ 
“Alright, fine, a date, but one thing first,” you step close to him, making his breath catch, pretty blues finding your gaze, the very same he would love to get lost in, before they flicker down to your lips. And he swears you can probably hear his heart beating out of his chest, thumping at the bony bars of his ribcage, and he hates it, hates how you have him twisted around your finger without trying, “Princess—“ 
You reach for him, fingers nearly about to brush his cheek, his eyes fluttering, before you flick his forehead, “ow!” 
“I was just going to ask when our first date is going to be, but if you rather I go on a bunch of blind dates—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing his forehead all the same, “then do you have any ideas?” 
He grins, “Plenty, but there’s one in particular.” 
~~~~
“An amusement park?” 
He sat next to you, driving, hand on the console and you couldn’t help but brush your arm against his each time you moved — and you felt as if he did it on purpose. 
He raises an eyebrow, stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye, “Uh-huh, got a problem, Princess?” 
“No I’m just surprised, we went to plenty of these as kids,” you glanced at him, his eyes concentrated on the road, fingers curling a little tighter around the steering wheel. 
You had raised an eyebrow at his choice, but now that you were here…it wasn’t a bad pick. 
You hadn’t been to one in years — not since your summers with Suguru. The screams in the distance told you there was a rollercoaster not far off, the syrupy sweetness of sugar somehow emanated from every inch of air, and the park was filled to the brim with families and couples. 
You glance at Satoru, a plain t-shirt and shorts, and somehow he still looked as if he stepped off a page of a men’s style magazine. He looked around, his eyes landing on a vendor selling cotton candy, and you hid your chuckle. 
“C’mon,” you took his hand, leading him over without a second thought, and you’re grabbing a giant cotton candy for him, made into a flower by the vendor. Satoru’s practically vibrating with excitement, slinking his hand around to sneak the vendor money before you even had a chance, “I wanted to pay—“ 
“You think I’d make my date pay?” He takes a bite out of his cotton candy, sugar sticking to his lips even as he nearly inhales a petal, “even the arranged set ups should do that much,” but it’s hard to take him seriously with blue sugar all over his mouth, “what?” 
You snort, grabbing a wet nap from your purse,“Well, you’d be surprised,” and you wipe his face, fingers cupping his chin, “some guys are a little immature,” and he stares back, and you swear you see a flush settle over his cheeks, before he turns away to wipe his lips. 
“Not me,” he mumbles, tips of his ears burning red, and you bite your bottom lip, cute. 
“Should we find a ride to go on?” he immediately grins at that, offering his arm this time, and you take it, a smile tugging at your lips. 
Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. 
~~~
Oh you were wrong. 
So wrong. 
“I changed my mind, I don’t want to get on,” and before you can leave a hand catches you by the wrist gently, blue eyes judging over his rimless sunglasses, “Satoru—“ 
“It’s just a rollercoaster,” just a rollercoaster? No, it was literally your death. You stared up at the contraption above you, the echoing screams growing louder as the line crept forward — akin to a rickety boat that Charon would wade you across into hell itself. 
“No, I can’t—“ you shake your head. 
“C’mon it won’t be that bad—“ 
“So you admit it’s going to be bad,” and he’s biting back a smile, “what?” 
“I just never really saw you being scared of anything, Princess,” he sighed loudly, “I guess I’ll have to ride it all alone,” but that only serves to make many women (and men) stare at him as if to offer him their company. 
“You have options,” and he shakes his head, his hand outstretched as the two of you enter the final stretch of the line. 
“Like I said, sweetheart, there’s only ever been one option for me,” and your fingers graze his with several second thoughts, but when his fingers laced with yours, you knew there was no turning back. 
“I didn’t know you could scream that loud,” 
You grinned at a shaken up Satoru, throat probably raw and aching as he frowns, face turned away, “I’m not used to the speed, unlike you, from how I heard you drive,” and you bite back a laugh, as he fails to hide his flush from you, his ears burning red. 
Your chuckle is a badly disguised cough, “Are you pretending to be this way to make me feel better?” You tease, and he’s crossing his arms. 
“No way I’d let myself look so lame in front of you, I’m no better than Ijichi,” and you raise an eyebrow. Ijichi was a boy in Suguru and Satoru’s class when they were kids — one that Satoru loved to complain about being slow. 
“You still think about him?”
“He’s my assistant,” and you snort at the thought of Satoru still hassling that poor guy. 
“I hope you pay him well,” he’s officially pouting again.
“I didn’t know it would be that intense!” you tilt your head, as the two of you find a corner of the park that’s not so crowded and riddled with children running amok, and you watch him down a sugary soda drink he had bought from one of the food stalls. 
“You act as if you’ve never been to an amusement park,” he’s quiet for a second too long, and your eyebrows knit together, “but Suguru—” 
“You guys would go every summer, but it was when I had my prep classes on the weekends,” he runs his fingers through his white locks, “I would have skipped when I was older, but by the time I had stopped caring what my father thought of me, you had already gone to college and Suguru’s family stopped going,” 
You frown — you knew Satoru didn’t have the best upbringing — yes he had every opportunity at his fingertips, all the money in the world that you couldn’t even fathom, but you could count the number of times he’s mentioned his parents on one hand. 
“I was always so jealous when you guys would go,” he sighed, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “it seems silly now—” 
“No, it’s not,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “you should have been allowed to be a kid,” 
He chuckles, a noise that sticks in your chest, “Well, more than anything, I wanted to go with you,” his cerulean eyes find yours, a soft smile on his lips, “thank you for indulging me, princess,” 
“Well, you’re the one doing me a favor, right?” you tease, getting to your feet, “c’mon we have plenty of other things to do — I saw a booth with candy apples not too far over there—” you point, and his fingers are already finding yours as he nearly drags you along, a laugh caught in your throat as you can’t help but smile at his excitement. 
It’s infectious, you thought as the two of you got in line, Satoru nearly vibrating with need for his sugar fix, and you shook your head, biting back a laugh, just like him. 
~~~
“You don’t have to walk me home,” the sun had long sunk by the time you both had left, staying to catch a glimpse of the fireworks before heading back, “it’s not that far from here,” 
The two of you had opted to take public transport to the amusement park, knowing there would be next to nowhere to park or rather only the middle of nowhere to park. The cicadas were already beginning their symphony, filling the relative silence of the neighborhood now, except for the chatter heard from inside houses or outside in gardens. 
“Who would carry your loot home?” and he tilts the giant plushie to show his unimpressed face, “you barely wanted to carry this at the park, even after you begged me to win it, and I did, in one shot,” 
And he did, he had won you a giant polar bear plushie nearly as tall as you were in his hands, along with several bags of sweets he had bought on the way out, just to snack on tonight (and you seriously wondered if he ate anything that was not coated in mochi, chocolate, or sugar). 
“I don’t remember begging you — I asked you,” you cross your arms, and you know he’s smiling behind the bear, using the plushie to hide his goddamn smirk, “i did! I just asked if we could try to win it—” 
“And I remember the phrases ‘please’ and ‘i need it’ being involved in the conversation,” you felt your cheeks burn, “you still like these things, huh?” 
“What do you mean?” and he moves the polar bear under one arm, the bags in the other so you could actually see his face. 
“You always loved plushies, you had that one from your parents that you kept in your room with you all the time—” 
“Panda, I was very original with that name,” you shake your head, before your gaze turns to him, his sunglasses gleaming on his head in the low light of the streetlamps, “I can’t believe you remembered that,” 
“There’s barely a thing I’d forget when it comes to you,” and you bite your lip, heart squeezing at his words, “you look like you wanna say something, princess?” 
You reached the outside of your apartment building just as night fell, humidity still clinging to the thick summer air. The light of the lobby spilling out into the sidewalk through the glass doors, just as the streets grew quieter. 
And you do — you’re not sure if you should ask it — a question posed on a precipice of uncertainty that you didn’t know if you wanted to step off of. But you know you had to, at one point or another. 
You could just go inside, brush off his question, and leave the day at that. But a nagging question had wriggled it’s way to the forefront of your mind, and you knew it wouldn’t leave your mind until it left your tongue. 
You chew on your lip, “You say these things so easily when it comes to me, but how are you so sure?” 
And he shrugs, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second, “I just know,” 
“But how?” He’s shaking his head, stepping forward, until he’s a breath away, your eyes flickering from his gaze to his lips for a split second, your own air caught in your traitorous throat. 
“Instead of wondering why I feel why I do, I think you should wonder why you’re so unsure,” and his fingers graze your cheek, tilting your chin upwards, his touch sending heat to the far reaches of your body, and he’s leaning forward. Your eyes nearly flutter shut, as his words nearly warm your lips, but no, instead they brush against your ear, “because if I was still just that kid to you that I was all those years ago, then why aren’t you pulling away?” 
Your eyes blink open, as he pulls away, grin on his lips, as he hands you your polar bear plushie, “Satoru—“ and you don’t even know what you want to say — you want to argue, you want to say something, anything, but nothing comes out but his name. 
“You shouldn’t let a guy get that close, Princess, especially not twice,” he sighs, lips still curled, “because if you let me that close again, I won’t be leaving without a kiss,” 
And you could only stare after him as he left — fingers touching your ear he had whispered against, lips pursing, as you huff, cheeks burning as you step inside your building, burying your face in white fluff of the polar bear that looked a little too much like someone’s hair. 
“Idiot.” 
~~~~
You’re avoiding me. 
Satoru wasn’t wrong. You were — but not exactly on purpose. Or at least you didn’t think so. It had been the third time you had turned him down in the last week. Although, today’s wasn’t intentionally so. You stewed in a corner of the bar, eyes glancing at your phone — what was really an appropriate time to leave a work-sanctioned event without looking completely anti-social? 
It was never really fun coming to these events alone — but you knew if Satoru was here, you’d actually have a good time. You were almost surprised he hadn’t shown up at your place or your work to see you — all he had done is text you. And why did that almost disappoint you?
You checked the time again, met with the notification of Satoru’s message again before you swiped it away out of sight. But he wasn’t out of mind. He hadn’t been for days. You rubbed at your temples — you hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since your day at the amusement park, thoughts spinning in circles and it was all his fault. You had done everything to get him out of your head — minimize contact, not see him, even drag yourself to an event like this — but still, you stared at your phone screen again, the ghost of his words still warming your ear. 
You couldn’t stop thinking about him. 
Fuck. What were you doing? You took a long swig of your drink, hoping the alcohol could erase some of that night out of your mind. The last thing you needed to be thinking about was Satoru Gojo. 
“So who’s the guy who has been picking you up after work?” 
You nearly choked on your drink. Really? You downed your drink, hoping you can ignore the question if you take long enough downing the searing concoction that the bartender had handed you, maybe they would let you off the hook. But as you finish the drink, you only find your coworkers staring back at you still. The hush that fell over this group of women was far too reverent for a conversation about a man. 
“He’s my little cousin’s best friend,” you reply, ordering another drink — you were going to need it, and the women exchange glances, fake smiles plastered on their lips. 
“He’s not your boyfriend?” and a strange twinge settles in your chest at the question, poking and prodding your tongue to say no, no he wasn’t, but you almost didn’t want to. 
“No, he isn’t,” and the women grin amongst each other, “if you would excuse me—” 
“Wait, wait, we just started talking, come on now,” you sigh internally, as they order another round of drinks as they corral you to their table, maybe after this you could finally leave. 
~~~
“What’s got you so down?” Suguru slides into a seat across from Satoru — Satoru who couldn’t stop checking his phone to see if you had replied. 
“What do you mean?” he sighs, he shouldn’t have sent that text earlier. He shouldn’t push so much, he’s already pushed enough with his comment. God, why the fuck did he say that? What if you thought he was a creep—what if you thought he was disgusting? What if— 
“You look pathetic,” Suguru sips his coffee in his hand, scrolling through his phone, “who is it?” 
Satoru sits up, locking his phone, tucking it away as if it would incriminate him — flashing your name across the screen like it was plastered over his mind, “what do you mean?” 
“I’ve never seen you like this, you keep checking your phone — you barely can keep track of it most of the time,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I figured you must have grew a dick and started liking someone,” 
“Look who’s talking — when’s the last time you dated someone again?” And Satoru catches the crumpled up paper Suguru tosses, “don’t get on your high horse if you don’t want the same thing back,” 
“At least I’m not waiting like a lovesick puppy over my phone,” Suguru mutters, taking another sip of his drink, and that’s when a phone ringing cuts through the silence — that was your ringtone, the very one he set to know when you’d call — just so he wouldn’t miss it, “looks like your waiting by the door paid off,” 
“Fuck off,” Satoru mumbled, walking off with his phone as he picked up, “hello?” 
“Suguru!” Satoru’s brow furrowed at the sound of your cousin’s name leaving your lips, “can you pick me up plz—“ your words were slurred, sounds of chatter cutting through the background. 
“Princ—“ you hiccuped, a small groan leaving your lips. 
“You can’t tell Satoru, he’ll come here and my coworkers won’t stop asking me about him,” you sigh again, mumbling, “why does he have to be so—ugh, it’s not fair for someone to be that pretty—“ 
Pretty? 
His cheeks burned, as he covered his mouth with his hand, trying and failing to bite back a stupid smile on his lips — it’s not fair for you to be this cute. He would have preferred ‘handsome’ or ‘perfect’ or ‘your boyfriend’ — but he could settle for pretty. 
“Anyway!” You cut his thoughts off, “could you come get me?” And Satoru bit his lip, glancing at Suguru — he could tell Suguru to get you, he could, but the odds of you letting something slip to Suguru—- “remember you can’t tell Satoru—“ 
—was really high. 
“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there, and I won’t tell him,” he adds, because you already had. 
~~~
“How did you find out where I work?” Satoru didn’t know after so many years that there were still new things to learn about you still — and one thing he had learned tonight was that —- you pouted at him, stumbling slightly as he came to a stop in front of your building — you were really whiny when drunk. 
“I picked you up there, remember?” he lightly flicked your forehead that only made you huff, “now do you have your keys?” 
“Do you know how annoying you are?” And he has to bite back a laugh at your scrunched up face. 
“I do, sweetheart, but I’d love to hear you tell me,” you scoff, crossing your arms only to immediately uncross to dig through your purse for your keys, tossing out several things that Satoru catches or picks up. 
“You come to my work and pick me up, and act all swoon worthy, and perfect, and you look like that—“ 
“Like what?” he can’t hide his smile this time, and your brow furrows as you pull out your keys, lips opening and closing, until you purse them. 
“Like that,” you grumble as you teeter on your feet again, before he supports you, and he swore he heard you mumble, “so disgustingly handsome,” 
And he’s glad your eyes are half closed and focused ahead, otherwise he knew you’d smack him for the grin on his face. 
“Oi, don’t—“ and you don’t listen, nearly falling over as you unlock your door, whole body weight leaned against it, but his arm slips around you, holding you up from face planting into your floor, “you’re gonna break your neck, Princess,” 
“You wouldn’t let that happen,” You break from his grip and lean up close, your breath warming his lips, your gaze half lidded, “not when you love me,” and his heart thuds against his ribs, rattling his lungs and bones alike, “that’s what you said, right?” 
You weren’t making this easy, not with your fingers now sliding up his chest, toying with the top button of his shirt, “I did—“ 
“So are you going to prove it?” And the floor feels as if it slips out from underneath him, and all he feels is you, only you — the brush of your fingers against his chest, the faint scent of lavender from your perfume that your aunt had gifted you, and the caress of your gaze against his lips, the same eyes he could easily lose himself in — if he wasn’t careful. 
But he had to be careful — because it was you. 
“But—“
“But what?” it would be so easy to kiss you, when you were only half a breath away, lips parted and gaze asking him to do so, to just lean in—but he can’t.
Not like this. 
His thumb runs down your lips, your eyes fluttering shut, fingers sliding to cup your jaw, and he leans in — feeling your breath catch—
But he only flicks your forehead, drawing a soft yelp from you. 
“I’d like you to remember our first kiss,” and he’s corralling you into bed after that, your body keeling over into the soft mattress, as he’s able to wriggle you under the comforter. Your body relaxes into the plush bed, eyes shut, as your muscles loosen and unwind, while Satoru stands over you, the exact opposite — muscles taut and mind whirring. 
Fuck.
“You never make it easy, do you, Princess?” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he scrubs a hand down his face, “good night,” his fingers ghost over the swell of your cheek, before turning to leave—
And your fingers caught him around the wrist, eyes half open as you stared up at him, a pout on your lips but now for an entirely different, but somehow the same reason—
“Stay,” one word nearly had him crumble right there — and how pathetic was that? Maybe Suguru was right — he was no better than a puppy at your beck and call — waiting by the door for his master to return. And he almost didn’t mind — if you always came home to him.  
“Princess, you have to go to sleep—“ he could easily break from your grip, fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist, but your grasp may have been very well made of iron with how you had pinned him into place — an entomologist pinning their butterfly in their display. 
“Don’t wanna sleep alone,” a slight whine in your voice makes him waver again, but he had a problem with sleeping beside you—
He shifted in place, adjusting himself, a somewhat big problem thst wouldn’t go away — no matter how many times he thought about Gakuganji in his underwear — especially when you were looking at him like that, half dressed in bed with a pout on your lips and want in your gaze—want that he never thought would be for him. 
“Please?” And that’s all it takes, his thumb rubbing against your fingers — because he could never say no to you. 
~~~~
“Are you okay?” 
Satoru was never left alone — not since he had managed to wander off alone when he was five. It took several hours and a dozen security guards to find him at a bakery, having his third piece of cake. And when he was brought home, he was told just how many ways that could have went wrong — what could have happened to him, and most of all — how badly it could have made his parents look. 
After that, he couldn’t remember a time that his hand wasn’t clutched by a caretaker or escort — from school to home to anywhere else he wished to go. But he never wished to go anywhere, not with a stranger at his side. 
It was only when he met Suguru that he was allowed to go out without someone hovering over his shoulder. But without warning — warning that if any incident would mean he would be stuck back in his daily life. But that meant when he got distracted in the pastry section of the supermarket — looking for the exclusive mochi he desperately wanted — he found himself alone, with you and Suguru nowhere in sight. 
“Suguru?” Satoru called, head whipping around, chest thudding as the white noise of the market grew louder. His gaze falls, ears ringing with all that could go wrong, back to the life with no one at his side, only strangers— 
“Toru?” Satoru’s gaze snaps up, your hands on your hips, your head tilted, “you okay?” And he’s quickly wiping away his tears, sniffling softly, your hand finding the top of his head, “i got you something,” and you hold out a mochi in front of him, and he blinks. 
“You found it?” He’s blinking and your lips curve into a pretty smile. 
“Anything for you, Satoru,” your fingers run through his hair, “Satoru? Satoru—“ 
His eyes flutter open, finding you leaning over him, your tousled hair in messy tangles, “finally awake?” And a soft chuckle on your lips as you speak, rubbing your eye, flinching as you rub your temples, “what exactly happened last night?” 
“You mean besides you calling me pretty?” And your jaw drops, biting your lip, “and begging me to stay? Didn’t know you liked my company that much, Princess,” 
You glare at him, “well with charm like that—“ you mutter, when it occurs to you, “why did you sleep on the floor? And with that?” You point to the polar bear plushie he used as a pillow last night. 
Not his most preferred bedfellow. 
Always full of surprises, his cheeks burn, and he only can hope it doesn’t show on his face, hidden behind a cheeky smile, “Didn’t know you were so eager to share a bed with me, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “I have to warn you, I have a tendency to cuddle—“ and you smack him with a pillow, he sighs, “someone wasn’t too keen on sharing her pillows with me, so this was the best I could do,”
You snort, as you take the offending plushie from him, “Did you do something to him?”
He tilts his head, “Eh?” And you hold up the polar bear plush, “what could I do to him?”  
“Someone did threaten to toss him out into the ocean so he could join his family,” 
“I can do a lot of things, but I can’t solve global warming, Princess,” and you bite back a laugh, “I was on my best behavior with him last night, even though he’s a shitty pillow,” and you didn’t have to know how he had slapped him a couple times. 
But even so, you bite your lip, looking down as you toy with your comforter, “why did you come?” 
He blinks, “what do you mean?” 
“You could have sent Suguru, but you came, and you stayed, on the floor,” and he curls his lips. 
“Well what kind of fake boyfriend would I be?” And you roll your eyes, still waiting for an answer, and his voice grows soft, “you know why, Princess,” 
“I do, but I don’t,” you murmur, fidgeting with your blanket as you chewed on your bottom lip, “my coworkers couldn’t stop talking about you last night, they kept saying how handsome you are, how wonderful, how perfect—“ 
“Should I be less handsome or perfect? Because don’t know if that’s possible—“ and it earns him another whack with the pillow, but he only catches it, “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” 
“It’s not, but I don’t know why after all these years, you still want me,” you sigh, words pushing past your lips,  “you could have anyone, Satoru,” 
“If I just wanted anyone, I wouldn’t have fell in love with you,” and you bury your face in your pillow, gaze peeking down at him. 
“You say that with such ease, how do you know what love even is? I don’t know if I know what it is,” you add, mumbling under your breath, and his eyes can’t help but follow the way your fingers run through your hair. 
“I don’t think I need to know when I feel it,” Satoru sat up, dangerously close to you, within reach yet so far out of it, “do you need to know to see the sky is blue? Do you need to know to feel pain when you burn yourself?” 
“Didn’t know you were taking philosophy classes with Suguru,” and he snorts, shaking his head, “Satoru—“ 
“Like I said before, Princess, just give me some time,” his fingers reach for you, and your breath catches, before he slowly smoothed your hair out, “and I’ll win you over,” 
Your eyes flicker to his, and god, he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss you, but he couldn’t. He had to be patient. He couldn’t push you — he wanted you to want him just as much. He would make you fall into his arms willingly, and you’d kiss him — not the other way around. 
“Want some breakfast?” your lips curl into a soft smile, the very same smile that he had fallen for time and time again. 
“You offering to cook me breakfast?” 
“Just wondering what would shut you up the quickest,” and he has half a mind to reply with ‘your lips,’ but he decides against it, “pancakes?” 
~~~
“I can feel you staring,” 
Even with your back turned to the stove, bowl in hand as you whipped the batter with the whisk, hoping your laser focus on the pancakes would help you distract yourself. But it did little when you could feel his gaze sticking in your back, spotlights on every little movement — something that wouldn’t have bothered you before — but after last night—
This was why you never drank. 
You covered your face with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, as you placed the bowl down, what had your life become? 
“C’mon you can’t just let a guy like that go,” one of the women from work nudged you — you couldn’t remember if her name was Kanae or Kanao — handing you a refill of the drink you had gotten, “he certainly seems into you from the way he looks at you,” 
“If he isn’t, I’d take him off your hands,” Saki slurred, nearly spilling her drink, “he seems to like you. Is there really nothing between you two?” 
“Not really,” you sipped your drink, if confessing to you after over a decade was nothing, “he’s just a friend,” and he was — a friend who was your fake boyfriend. 
“You know with how you started, I thought your love life would be a lot more interesting,” Kanae sighed far too loudly, as she took another long swig of her cocktail. 
“Well we’ve talked a lot about what you guys are but we haven’t asked how you feel,” Saki grinned, sloppily drunk yet somehow masterful with her questions, “how do you feel about him?” 
And how did you? If someone asked you a few weeks ago, you would said he was just your little cousin’s best friend, a childhood friend — and you wouldn’t have thought twice. But now, he has given you so much to think about. Would you be this hesitant if you two haven’t met as kids? If he wasn’t Suguru’s best friend? If he didn’t seem so far out of your league? 
Maybe. But you were never good at going for things you wanted — or accepting things as they were. Even with Naoya, you knew you should have broken up with him — you knew he was toxic, and yet you stayed — because it was easier. 
And maybe it was easier to push Satoru away than to face how you felt.
Fuck, you were too drunk for this — you needed to get out of here, “excuse me,” you manage to slip away into the bathroom, washing your face, leaning over the sink. 
You held your forehead, steadying yourself against the cold porcelain, fingers digging into the rim of the sink — eyes burning as your head throbs, a wave of nausea pulsing through your stomach. Fuck, there was no way that you could get home alone. 
You pulled out your phone and scrolled — who the fuck would you call? The only people you knew were your family and…
Nope. No. Not an option. 
You found Suguru’s number and tried to text, only to find your eyes blurring, and you knew if you sent a message he would be holding over any typos or fuck ups over your head forever. 
You found his name, your head spinning as you clicked and called. 
He didn’t pick up.
“Fucker,” you mumble, trying to hit his name again, your head spinning, and finally someone picked up—
And then you woke up in bed. A soft groan fell from your lips, knives prodding at every inch of your brain, memory blended and choppy as you drew into consciousness. You were home, your eyes fluttering open to sunlight illuminating your bedroom, a dull stiffness in your muscles that makes you stretch, turning on your side only to be met with a sight. 
Satoru Gojo. Asleep on your floor, cuddling the plush polar bear he won for you. You stared, blinking, wondering if blinking away the sleep would somehow blink away Satoru too (it did not unfortunately). So you did the only other thing you could think of — take a picture. 
As you glanced from the image to him, bits and pieces came back — from your drunken ramblings on the phone to the ones in person, your cheeks burning as you buried your face in your comforter before staring down at him. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? You were really testing those limits. 
But even so, as you watched him sleep on top of the plushie, the only thing you could wonder was why had he stayed? He could have left after you fell asleep, or even before that, there wasn’t much you could have done to stop him. But he stayed, even on the floor, rather than anywhere else. 
“So?” you didn’t need to turn from the stove to know he was grinning, “can’t I enjoy the show, Princess?” 
“If you’re enjoying it so much, how about you become part of it and help?” you offer him a spatula, as he makes his way over, leaning over you, his body brushing against yours, but you ignore it all the same, eyes focused on the task instead on the warmth blooming from his touch, “I’ll spoon and you flip,” 
The two of you work in silence, as you spoon batter onto the griddle and he flips the pancakes — and it’s only when you’re both just about done that you glance over, and his lips are curled, “What are you smiling about?” and he shakes his head, as he flips the last of the pancakes onto the stack, “Satoru—“ 
“I just never really have made breakfast like this before, or had someone make it for me,” he scratches the back of his head, “my parents always had chefs or maids or someone make me all my meals, and even when I moved out, I always cooked alone or bought my meals out,” he shrugs, as he turned the stove off, “it reminds me when you’d make me and Suguru instant ramen after we came in from playing outside,” 
You snort, “You remember that?” You would get stuck making ramen for the two of them, tossing some seasoning and sauces into the mixture along with an egg, “I always put too much black pepper. I thought you hated it,” 
“But I always finished,” he added, and he did, even if his cheeks were burning red and eyes watering by the end of the bowl. Your lips curl at the memory of him at the age of twelve downing an entire glass of water and spilling it all over the front of himself. 
“Well I can make a lot more than instant noodles now,” you have Satoru set the table while you start to clean up, turning on the sink. You hear the clink of plates and utensils behind you, as he sets them down on the table, but you can feel his gaze fall over you even as your back is turned. 
“I’m going to need some proof — there were a few times you almost burned those noodles,” and you pout, turning with your hands on your hips. 
“Oh you want me to prove it now?” You turn, running your finger discreetly up the side of the used mixing bowl, finger full of batter as you walk up to him, hands behind your back. 
“And how’re you gonna do that, Princess?” the corner of his lip quirks upwards, as you step close up to him, and god, he’s fucking tall — and it kind of pissed you off — all these boys shoot up like fucking weeds, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t knock him down a bit. 
“Close your eyes, and find out,” he raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but still he obeys — good boy, the praise runs through your head to the tip of your tongue, but you bite it and the words back alike. And you’re so close, you can see his snow white eyelashes fan out against his cheeks, and he’s so unfairly pretty, 
For now. 
You’re so close, you nearly feel his body warmth radiate your skin — and you swear you hear his breath hitch — and it would be so easy to lean forward— “Princess — what—” 
And then he gasps when you smear pancake batter down his cheek, a snort leaving your lips as he gapes at you, mouth ajar. He blinks, his hand reaching for his cheek, before he stops when his eyes flit to your batter caked finger, “You—” 
You’re giggling, trying to stop yourself from doubling over at his expression, “What? I just wanted to give you a taste of my cooking before you tried it,” and he frowns at you for a moment, before his lips curl deviously, tilting his head. 
“Is that right?” and his fingers run through the smeared batter, caking his finger tips before he’s stepping towards you, “then it’s fair, if I make you taste it too—“ and you’re trying to back up, giggles leaving your lips,  but he catches you by the wrist. 
“Satoru—“ you whine as you’re trying to squirm away, “let go!” but he only pulls you close, your body nearly bumping against his — and it was your turn for your breath to catch, cerulean irises stealing the air from your lungs as you drowned in them, “hey—“ 
“Just how much are you gonna tempt me, Princess?” and you should step away, but his fingers around your wrist send warmth blooming down your arm, straight to your chest, and you can’t bring yourself to step away. 
“And how am I doing that?” His fingers tug you closer, thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist, before he leans close. 
“You know exactly how,” and your glance flickers from his gaze to his lips, and back again, resisting the urge to shut your eyes — but you don’t have to, when he smears the batter all over your cheek. 
“Toru!” You stare at him, and he’s laughing, as you grab at him, only for him to slip away, “I’m gonna kill you—“ and you move towards the sink, batter covered bowl still inside, “oh just you wait—“ 
But your beeline is cut short by his grip, arm darting around your middle, as he pulls you back. You gasp, struggling in his arms in vain — fuck his stupidly toned arms,  “you shouldn’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” his words are said against your ear, but they rush down your body in almost a shudder. 
His lips are an inch or two from yours, you would barely need to lean to reach them — the words of your coworkers ring in your ears 
“Who said I wasn’t?” His eyes find yours, his fingers tilting your chin ever so slightly, when your phone rings. 
You jerk slightly at the sound, your eyes flickering to the name across the screen and see Suguru’s name flashing on the screen. 
“It’s Suguru,” and Satoru lets go of you, as you make your way to the phone, and you swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?” you don’t pick up the phone but a few texts come through anyway. 
“Nothing,” he scratched the back of his head, “what did he say?” 
“He’s asking if I wanna come over for dinner tonight, said you’re gonna be there too?” And you raise an eyebrow, as Satoru fishes his phone out of his pocket and glances at it. 
“Apparently I am,” you turn on the faucet, cleaning your face off, offering Satoru a damp tissue. “Guess this won’t be the last meal we’re sharing today,” 
“Guess not,” his fingers brush yours when taking the tissue, trying to clean the batter off his cheek but only spreads the mess. You snort, as you take the napkin from him holding his face by the chin, “so how’re we gonna play it?” 
“Play what?” You toss the napkin away, both of you taking a seat at the table. 
“Did you forget?” He stabs a pancake and places it in his plate, “we told your aunt we’re dating — and that we’re hiding it from Suguru, and you just agreed to dinner with both of them,” 
Fuck. 
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✧ a/n: hi it's been quite a while T_T. sorry work has been so busy. i haven't had a moment to post, and now i had to split this up because it just got too long lmao. part two will come later, i'm going to be prioritizing my kinktober fics. thank you to @coffee-and-geto for betaing :)
✧ taglist: @satorusmochis , @celestialgojo , @sugurubabe , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @strawberryfanatic01 , @cira273 , @sobbangchan , @hiraethwrote , @peppertoastuniverse , @dreamtardisspace , @redmangotango , @h4ru-h4ruu , @anpacax0 , @theshylittleelfgirl , @hyori2 , @elliesndg , @maddietries , @roses-can-be-deadly-too, @vernasce-blogs , @mrsoikawa17 , @spider-fan72 , @haoxiaoxi , @horchatacow , @lovemoreworrylessv, @maybe-a-bi-witch , @missroki , @rubyarerosies ,, @ranatherealestsigma , @svt-backup , @catsgomurp , @sakurastorm , @forest-fruits-jam , @lemonpoppy-seed , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @notgoodforlife , @johannakhalafalla , @fushitoru , @kentosbutterfly , @augustwinesworld
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bumblesimagines ¡ 3 months ago
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His Love to Keep
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Request: Yes or No
Summary: Prince (Y/N) Targaryen and his cousin-wife, Princess Rhaenyra, have never truly seen eye to eye after she replaced his father as heir and removed him from line of succession. They both find lovers to keep their beds warm but with age and time comes the desire to redo things.
Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader
CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, mentions of marital SA, affairs/cheating on all sides rlly, moon tea usage, mentions of religious guilt?, implied rhaenicent, love triangle trope, canon divergent/AU, sexual/suggestive content, Targcest (Cousins), Rhaenyra is described with her book accurate appearance/body type
About fucking time I did one of these. fuck team black and team green I'm team milf 💪
~~~
"Must you truly go?"
"It is my duty, Alicent."
"Those boys are bastards," Alicent spoke softly, the cup in hand warming her palms as the subtle smell of tansy and mint drifted from the steam brushing along her skin. She watched ripples form in the tea with the slightest of movements, unable to swallow down the nerves beginning to bubble up underneath her skin. "You are not bound to them. They are not your sons."
"I scarcely see them and they still burst with excitement when I visit." (Y/N) strode forward to close the distance between them, his fingers reaching out to brush aside a curled strand of her auburn hair. Alicent lifted her head toward him, the ghost of a smile gracing her lips when his palm pressed against her cheek and she leaned into it. "They may not be my sons by blood but they are by marriage. They must at least feel cared for, even if once every few moons."
Alicent pursed her lips, her big brown eyes peering up at him. "Would you travel to Dragonstone more often if they were yours?" She asked tentatively, gingerly setting the moon tea on the table and rising from her chair. He watched her, his arm encircling her waist when she grew closer, the soft fabric of her thin nightgown rubbing along his arm. "Or would you return to me as you so often do?"
(Y/N) chuckled breathily, his (E/C) eyes crinkling with amusement and his free hand rising to cup her cheek once more. He leaned in and kissed her gently, their eyes fluttering shut as they exchanged breaths. Alicent's arms slipped around his shoulders and pressed her body close to his, eager to soak up whatever she could before they'd be forced apart again by duty. The back of her hips met the side of the table and she leaned back against it, her leg lifting off the ground as her heel dug its way up his calf and thigh until she hooked her leg around his waist. 
"Do not go." She asked pleadingly when they pulled apart for air, her hold on his shoulders tightening briefly when he lifted her up and set her at the edge of the table. Her fingers tugged at the laces in the front of her dress and the sleeves went slack, slipping off her shoulders and threatening to go past her elbows. "You can correspond through ravens." She told him, the pout that'd formed on her lips being kissed away.
His hand slipped beneath her nightgown, forcing it upwards until it rested around her hips. He squeezed the flesh of her thigh where fading marks resided, his lips ghosting over her throat and collarbone. "I have visited Dragonstone plenty of times, Alicent. You have never been against it before." He reminded her, his lips pressing against the valley between her chest as the dress slipped further down until it fully pooled around her hips. 
Alicent's head tilted backward, her soft curls tumbling past her shoulders and grazing along the table. She braced her elbows against the smooth wood, unable to find any excuse apart from worry and a hint of jealousy but her inexplicable mind hardly allowed her to comprehend who exactly she was jealous of if tides shifted between the couple; Rhaenyra or her lover. Ser Harwin had passed some years prior and she'd heard little of Rhaenyra growing close to anyone else since then. It both filled her with dread and intrigue. 
"I have been against you allowing yourself to be seen playing father to those boys. She makes a mockery of you." Alicent said breathily, her legs parting and revealing herself as bare as the previous night when she'd gone to him in hopes of convincing him to remain in Dragonstone. It'd been a fruitless yet enjoyable attempt. 
"She makes a mockery of herself and her father." (Y/N) rebutted swiftly, his hands briefly leaving her thighs to unbutton his loose pants. 
A shuddering breath escaped Alicent when she felt him push inside, the act so familiar yet it still felt unknown to her. Viserys had never cared for her comfort or pleasure during acts of 'passion', only chasing his own pleasure whilst her mind drifted elsewhere. But in the arms of a lover who truly desired her, everything felt different. Every touch felt electrifying, every kiss left butterflies behind, and every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure up her spin. She remained mindful of the early hour in the morrow; many courtiers and servants had the habit of rising with the sun and traveling through the halls of the castle. 
Her arm curled around his neck when he buried his face into the nape of hers, her other hand digging into the fabric of his shoulder and crinkling it as her nails pressed through to his skin. Quiet and soft pants, sighs, and moans escaped her parted lips, her teeth digging into her lip whenever her voice edged toward a louder volume that would alert those passing by the doors to her bedchambers. She'd already instructed her trusted handmaiden to send away those who wished an audience but she'd hardly be a match for anyone alerted by the noise. 
Alicent's hand slapped down on the table, curling her fingers around the edge to stabilize herself and the creaking furniture. Part of her felt guilty for engaging in the sinful act of laying with another while bound by the vows of marriage; guilty for betraying the lingering love she held for Rhaenyra and the trust the kingdom had put upon her shoulders when she wed Viserys. She'd pray in the sept later in the day, asking to be absolved of her sins but the prince was too addicting to give up for Gods she found herself straying further and further away from. 
Her back arched with her abrupt high and he claimed her lips before she could cry out, muffling the noise and the ones that followed when he continued. She clung onto him, and perhaps clung to the idea he'd be tempted to remain at her side as well, the air escaping her lungs and legs caging around him in a tight hold. Her mind grew clouded from the pleasure and near overstimulation, filling her head with thoughts of carrying his child and finally giving him a proper heir to Runestone, but she would not sully him with another bastard as Rhaenyra had. Perhaps in another time, her children would've been his and they would've been happier far from the suffocating walls of the Keep.
She thought of that life often, and it plagued her when she watched his dragon disappear over the vast sea while the horrid taste of the moon tea danced on her tongue.
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Despite having her darling sons to keep her company and the occasional visits from her uncle and young cousins.. nothing ever changed the heart-aching loneliness that'd clawed its way into Rhaenyra's chest following the Year of the Red Spring. She'd lost the three people closest to her, the few who knew her secrets and worries. It pained her to know she'd never feel Harwin's warm embrace or hear Laena's mischievous laughter or watch the way Laenor's eyes sparkled when he spoke of his lover. She had few friends in the Keep and even fewer on the isolated island of Dragonstone. 
Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around herself, the sleeves of her dress providing little warmth against the natural chill of Dragonstone from the sea breeze. She strode down the halls in contemplation, although she likely appeared more like a lost ghost forever forced to wander. The letter that'd arrived the previous day had been short and with little details but it'd been from her husband informing her of his arrival to visit 'the boys'. 
Her lips quirked and she sighed through her nose. 'The boys', always 'the boys' or 'your sons but never 'our sons' despite the fact he was the only father they'd ever known. Harwin had been forced to play the part of a friendly uncle figure, forced to watch his children scurry to the feet of a man who treated them with polite affection over genuine love. Rhaenyra hardly found blame within herself. He'd left her alone in the Keep after their wedding, and it'd only been through a letter begging him to return that he'd begrudgingly flown back to see her. The irritation on his face when she explained her newfound predicament- the possibility of being pregnant- had nearly enraged her but he agreed to pretend as if the boys had inherited their brown hair and softer features from his late mother. 
Her attention tugged away from her thoughts and onto the long shadow along the floor peeking out from the balcony, her step quickening slightly to have a peek at the person standing there. She smiled immediately upon seeing Luke with his arms braced against the stone railing and his head tilted toward the clouds in the direction of King's Landing, a bright sparkle in his vibrant eyes. She approached him, settling her hands over his shoulders as she pecked the back of his head. 
"Will you ask him, Mother?" Luke questioned, pressing himself further against the railing as he combed the clouds for any sign of (Y/N) or his dragon. 
"If you can travel with him to Runestone?" Rhaenyra chuckled at the barely contained excitement in his voice despite the ache and tug at her heartstrings. The mere thought of parting with her sweet boy filled her with longing, and they'd yet to even ask (Y/N) if it'd be alright. "I will ask him, Luke. I am certain he'll be more than pleased to show you Runestone and its many ports. You must pay close attention. You will rule it someday."
Luke grimaced at that. "Wouldn't that mean Father has died?" His head turned to peer up at her with those big striking eyes of his; eyes she'd never be able to deny, now more than ever when they reminded her of the shade of Harwin's. 
"Oh, my darling," Rhaenyra cooed, running her fingers through his soft curls. "Ruling does not always entail someone has died. Does Princess Rhaenys not rule Driftmark as her husband's regent while he recovers from his injury? If your... father were to fall ill or sustain an injury that confines him to his bed and you are of age, you would rule in his steed with the help of your great-uncle. You would rule if I were to fall ill and your father had to rule as regent in King's Landing." 
Her words seemed to ease Luke, his hair flopping lightly against his forehead when he nodded and his lips tugging into that smile of his that could brighten the dullest of days. They both turned toward the skies when a deepened screech echoed through the quiet afternoon air and they watched a large figure descend from the clouds and skim the water with its wings. Suvion released another cry when he drew closer, one that seemingly roused his mother and son. In the distance, Rhaenyra faintly made out Silverwing and Arrax's cries in response.
"Father!" Luke leaped away and hurried into the hallway, his feet slapping against the stone floor as he raced toward the entrance leading into Dragonmont. 
Taking a deep inhale, Rhaenyra released it in a sigh and followed after her son, hands clutching the deep red of her skirts and lifting the ends to quicken her pace. She couldn't help but chuckle at Luke's excitement despite the way her heart twisted at the knowledge he'd never have a chance to be excited over his real father. She caught Luke taking Joffery's small hand in his and tugging him further into the entrance of the cave system where (Y/N) would dismount, and found Jace lingering with twisted lips and sullen eyes.
"Jace," She called softly, releasing her skirts to place her hand on his arm. "Are you not excited to greet your father?"
"Is he excited to see us?" Jace asked glumly and Rhaenyra winced. "He has resided in King's Landing for days and has not spared us a single visit in moons. Must he make it any more obvious that we are of little importance to him?" 
Before Rhaenyra could respond, Jace stalked inside, ever the polite one even in his disappointment and anger. She sighed once more and followed him inside, squinting through the light pouring into the cave from the opening on the side and blinking until her eyes adjusted. (Y/N) climbed off Suvion and cooed quietly to his dragon as he slipped his gloves off, handing them to the nearby servant. Suvion chirped softly and dipped down, disappearing into one of the many tunnels within Dragonmont. 
Luke stopped a few feet away from him and dipped his head in respect before releasing Joffery's hand and lunging himself forward. He swung his arms around (Y/N)'s waist and pressed his cheek into his chest, a gleeful smile on his face. Little Joffery clumsily bowed as well and shuffled forward to cling onto (Y/N)'s leg. (Y/N) chuckled at their affection and patted Luke's head, murmuring some words Rhaenyra couldn't hear and leaning down to take Joffery into his arms. 
"Husband," Rhaenyra greeted when he approached, the word still foreign on her tongue despite the many years since their wedding. She hoped to remedy that for the sake of her sons and before loneliness could consume her whole. 
"Rhaenyra," (Y/N) nodded, his brows twitching at the use of his martial title but his face smoothed over into a polite smile when he turned to Jace and offered him Joffery. Rhaenyra felt thankful, in a way, that the years he'd spent attached to her father's hip had eased him into a calmer man. She feared what would have become of him if he'd only been raised by Daemon. 
Gingerly taking his little brother, Jace bowed his head, his lips pulled into a thin line. "My Prince." He greeted and Rhaenyra hoped her sharp inhale had gone unnoticed by her younger sons. "I hope your flight was well." 
"It was, though I am in need of a bath and some rest." (Y/N) told them, his hand brushing over Luke's head one last time before he slipped past them and began heading toward the castle. "I'll see you at supper." He called over his shoulder. 
Rhaenyra bit her inner cheek and spared her children a glance, her legs turning and catching up with her husband. She caught his arm and slipped hers around it, glancing over her shoulder at her boys. "Your belongings in the Sea Dragon Tower have been moved to my bedchambers." She told him quietly.
"And why so?"
"Because you are my husband." Rhaenyra scoffed. "Is that not reason enough? Must I get on my knees and beg for my husband to sleep in the same room as me?"
"You only wish to sleep in the same room as me when you are pregnant with another man's child, Rhaenyra. You ought to learn to ask for moon tea when you sleep with a lover. You've already doomed your two eldest." (Y/N) tugged his arm free from her hold, his lip curled slightly in irritation. "What is it now?"
"It is as I said. It is truly so absurd to desire time with the man I married or do you detest the idea so much you'd rather humiliate me by refusing?" Rhaenyra questioned, her voice rising in volume and eyes fiery as they both stalked toward her bedchambers. Servants clumsily bowed and stepped out of the way from them, their eyes wide with exchanged glances. "When will you grace us with an inch of maturity, I wonder, or will you forever act as a scorned child? It was your father whose ambition and loose tongue stripped him of his title as heir!" 
"It is amusing to hear you speak of maturity, Rhaenyra; it is like a jester speaking of dignity." (Y/N) spat back.
The doors to her apartments were opened hastily by the guard and swiftly shut behind them. (Y/N)'s strides were broken when he took a moment to observe his surroundings, only moving once he noticed the pitcher full of wine and filled a cup to the brim. Rhaenyra watched him drink from it, her chest heaving from her annoyance. She took a deep breath in hopes of calming herself and felt the emotion ease down whilst he rid himself of his riding clothes. 
"We recently learned of your long stay in King's Landing. They will question you as to why you have not come sooner... and I would like to know the answer, too. I know my father's health has been steadily worsening through the years but I doubt you are of any help to the maesters dedicated to ensuring he heals." Rhaenyra approached him from behind, her hands resting upon his shoulders and helping slip the undershirt off his body. She let it drop onto the pile of clothing on the floor and inched closer, the palms of her hands running along his warm skin. She felt a subtle small bump, her brows furrowing as she traced it and quickly recognized it as fading scratch marks. She stilled. "Unless there are other reasons for your visits..." 
He only exhaled through his nose and remained silent. Rhaenyra staggered backward at his lack of response, her widening eyes watching him shed the last of his clothing and step into the warm water within the tub. Her mind flickered through the various courtiers she recalled resided in the Keep prior to her departure to Dragonstone.
It was hypocritical, she knew, to grow so uneasy at the thought of him with another. He'd been indifferent to the years Harwin spent at her side and while she'd always wondered if he'd taken a lover of his own, she always believed it'd be someone from one of the lesser houses in the Vale over someone just a ride away. There were many beautiful ladies residing in the Keep but as always, Rhaenyra's mind lingered on her old friend. 
"I suspected the reason you never cared for Harwin was because you had your own lover waiting in Runestone... yet now I am led to believe that lover calls King's Landing home. What would Queen Alicent say, I wonder, if she grew to learn of your doings beneath her nose and watchful eyes? She's always been so righteous... I am certain even with the animosity between us, she'd ask of you to return to your wife." Rhaenyra swallowed thickly, watching him as he cleaned himself. "Who is it? You knew of mine, I wish to know of yours."
"I find it hard to understand you, Rhaenyra." He muttered. "You always pined for freedom and adventure yet accepted the title of heir; you defended your inheritance yet fled the Keep because of mere court gossip; you never longed for children yet allowed the seed of Breakbones to sprout life three times; you never desired this marriage yet now wish to keep me close after years. Who I lay with is of little interest to you when any other man would have found grounds for a divorce all those years ago."
"You never gave us a chance or have you forgotten you climbed atop Suvion the morrow after our wedding and abandoned me to be in Runestone?" A hot flash of anger jolted through her body, her fingers curling into fits. She often thought of that morning, of rising after a night of angry passion only to discover her new husband had left without a word. It'd been the only time they'd properly been with one another and she'd been left wondering if she'd disappointed him enough for him to believe the marriage was merely an inconvenience. 
"Would you have rather I missed the funeral of my mother?" (Y/N) shot her a glare over his shoulder and tossed aside the sponge, satisfied with his bath and rising to dry himself.
Rhaenyra's swift anger stilled, unable to stop her eyes from wandering. It'd been long since she'd last seen him fully undressed, and even then the memories of their only time together were a whirlwind. He'd always been a fine-looking prince, especially in his youth when he still carried the air of youthful arrogance befitting of a prince. He'd certainly grown into a handsome man, one with mixtures of Targaryen and Royce features that melted together perfectly. 
Rhaenyra forced herself to swallow the spiteful words ready on her tongue and she turned, retrieving a maroon-colored robe with golden designs and approaching him. He eyed her but nonetheless allowed her to help him dress. "I would have rather you spoken to me. I may have been.. reckless and rebellious in my youth but I would not have refused to accompany you. I could have been convinced into waiting for your return but you made your opinion clear. Did you truly never long for a wife all those lonely years in Runestone? Did you never long for.. what could have been?"
"We were children, Rhaenyra. I was a child forced into an abrupt marriage and then forced to deal with the passing of my mother while my family spoke of their suspicion of my father killing her. I had little time to think of a wife who disliked me when I had to learn to rule Runestone and sedate the thirst for revenge in my family. Perhaps these past few years I've thought of having true children that are mine but we've made our beds, Rhaenyra. What's done is done."
"You speak as if I am not still your wife." Rhaenyra released a huff of amusement, her hand smoothing over the front of the robe and feeling the soft fabric. Her fingers dipped beneath the robes and roamed until her thumb brushed over the trail of hair leading further down. He made a noise in the back of his throat but when he did nothing to push her away, Rhaenyra found victory. "I am still of childbearing age, (Y/N). I too have longed for a babe in recent times. I've desired a girl for much time now that Jace and Luke will soon be man-grown and beginning their own families." 
(Y/N)'s eyes jumped away from her, his brows slightly dipping together and jaw subtly ticking. She wondered if he thought of his lover and how she would react to the news, and Rhaenyra felt a hint of satisfaction despite the curiosity swirling around her chest. She wanted a name and a face to put to the woman who'd likely cloud her mind for the rest of her life. It'd always been expected of ladies to tolerate the mistresses of their husbands but Rhaenyra could hardly see herself allowing such a thing
"I am certain this is the very reason my lover did not wish for me to come here." (Y/N) sighed and Rhaenyra blinked at him, unable to comprehend why then he'd flown to Dragonstone if the person he did care about asked of him otherwise. Her heart fluttered at the possibilities. 
She pressed her hand to the nape of his neck and pulled him closer, bringing her lips over his and sighing in relief as their lips moved together. "She will have to understand and bring herself to forgive," Rhaenyra said, already breathless and eager. It'd been so, so long since she'd last felt the touch of another. 
He grunted into her mouth when her fingers curled around him and pumped him slowly, delighting in the feeling of him fully hardening against her hand. She'd always been a lustful creature, she supposed, always hungering for the feeling of pleasure and power over someone else in such intimate acts.
(Y/N) had always been someone out of reach, both literally and figuratively, so having him shuddering against her and grazing his tongue against hers only fueled her desire. Rhaenyra savored each grunt, hiss, and needy kiss as she stroked him, running her fingers along the slit and coating her skin. 
Her dress loosened when he undid the laces at the back of her gown with expertise. She relished the quiet, muffled huff that left him when she retracted her hand to peel the sleeves off her arms and allow the dress to slump down at their feet with her undergarments quickly following. He leaned back to observe her, his eyes taking in the newfound curves of her body she'd obtained from age and multiple pregnancies. Much of the weight from bearing children had remained, remolding her body into something new and far from the girl he'd consummated his marriage with.
Rhaenyra grinned at the flicker of hunger in his eyes before the grin vanished with a gasp as he latched onto her neck and pulled her closer. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around him, quiet sighs and gasps leaving her with each nip and suckle at her throat. They stumbled back toward the bed and Rhaenyra pushed at his shoulders until he sat at the edge, parting briefly with each other before she settled on his lap. 
Cradling his face in her hands, she pressed another kiss to his lips. "Today and every day til I am with child, you are mine and mine alone."
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dark-konohagakure2 ¡ 6 months ago
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kakashi having to punish his little cousin for going out with another guy
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tw: incest, cousin incest, age difference, protectiveness, slut shaming, impact play, breeding, abuse
All characters depicted are 18+
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Kakashi usually doesn't involve himself too deeply in his family's personal business, but when his father laments to him about the fact that Kakashi's younger cousin has been sneaking out at night to see some guy from time to time, Kakashi is suddenly very invested in what his family is up to now.
Sakumo himself was originally asked to give her a stern talking to, but Kakashi convinced his dad to let him do it instead, since Kakashi is (barely) closer to her age, so she'll definitely listen to her dearest older cousin.
Of course Kakashi's intentions are the furthest thing from pure. He's been lusting after his own cousin for a while, and this is just the perfect excuse for him to act on those desires. He isn't nice about it either, pinning her down and berating for going out with a guy, despite the fact that she's old enough to see whoever she likes, but Kakashi doesn't care.
Kakashi will act more like a bully than a cousin, roughly forcing her underwear down and spreading her cheeks apart to get a very good, thorough look at her pussy, snidely claiming that he's just checking to make sure she's still a virgin, and not a whore.
"Stop whining. That boy you wanted to get all friendly with would have done this to you and then some. Be grateful that I'm being more gentle."
Kakashi is easily able to force his thick cock into her cousin's pussy, his years of extensive shinobi training making him leagues stronger than a delicate little civilian like her, allowing him to practically use her like his own personal onahole.
Kakashi's reason for being there is to punish her, and he'll do just that as he fucks her, slapping any part of her body that his calloused hands can reach, mostly focusing on hitting her ass and thighs while telling her what a bad girl she's been, and how she must have had a lot of guys do this to her before him.
He wants to make sure his lesson will leave a mark on his disobedient cousin, so he'll be sure to cum inside her, and more than once at that. Kakashi is going to make sure she doesn't ever forget the rules of their family, and besides, if she winds up getting pregnant, she can't whore around anymore, so Kakashi wins either way.
When he's finally had his fill of her pussy, he'll sit her down and have an earnest heart to heart conversation with her, making sure she gets it through her thick skull that she isn't supposed to be talking to any man that isn't family, that's what whores do.
"Are you done crying? Good. Now you know what happens to bad girls who act like sluts. Oh, and tell your father I said 'you're welcome'"
Kakashi really hopes that his lesson stuck with her, and even if he didn't and she decides to whore around again, he is more than willing to teach her another one.
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yaoyaobae ¡ 2 years ago
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Another twst oc introduction 🏃‍♀️
Jaseem
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School : Royal Sword Academy
Favourite food: Rice dishes, Shawarma
Pastime: Playing with his pet tiger Rana, Visiting Kalim, Discovering wildlife
Family: Father, Mother, Kalim(Cousin)
Role: Dormhead
Jaseem is a third year at RSA. To most people he may seem like a lone wolf who despises making friendships, but underneath the surface is a gentle boy who longs for freedom.
Being born from a wealthy family with relations to the Asims, Jaseem’s status is nothing new to even the freshmen. Every year groups of students and parents from high status families would flock around him offering their sister/daughters hand in marriage.
Before he was allowed to bring Rana to school (don’t ask me how he did it-) Jaseem had no choice but to either 1. Run as fast as possible or 2. Teleport himself to a safe spot. Now with Rana, a fearsome tiger donning an expensive turquoise silk ribbon, nobody dares to approach Jaseem anymore.
Personality wise, Jaseem is extremely sharp-tongued and will not tolerate a single second on people he deems as childish. He is capable of cooperating with others but would prefer to work alone. Despite the cold exterior, if one can prove that they love tigers as much as he does.. maybe they’d stand a chance to win his attention. And if you can win his trust, Jaseem is probably the most loyal ally/friend you will ever get.
Having attended many arranged marriage meetings, Jaseem is already accustomed to how he must act around the ladies even if he dislikes interacting with them and entertaining their thoughtless comments about his wealth.
He is actually really bad at conveying his feelings, particularly romantic ones. He can no longer grasp the real meaning of love and has trust issues about whether someone is genuinely interested in him. This only numbed Jaseem more over the years hence brushing these feelings aside.
Jaseem has a general disliking towards women due to his past, but he will respect those who deserve it and mean their words. He won’t voice his opinions unless the situation gets on his nerves.
Jaseem’s mother was hospitalised when he was a young child and has been living there for many years, only visiting for a few days when the doctors deem her suitable. Due to schoolwork and other business matters, Jaseem is unable to visit her as much as his father. But he tries to make time for her as he feels most comfortable and at ease when talking to her about his troubles.
His father already told him that he will never marry another woman as he loves his wife very much, this made Jaseem envious as he hopes to be able to find someone he can stand by faithfully someday. While he feels that his father can be rather strict, both father and son have mutual respect for one another as they only want the best for the family.
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Backstory
Back when the life wasn’t as complicated, Jaseem was extremely cheerful and lived every day to the fullest with the vast amount of wealth his family possessed.
However when he had reached the age of 10, his life began to fall apart. As the only son, Jaseem was forced to find a future wife sooner or later. From then on he had to attend countless numbers of arranged marriage meetings, parties while attending his father’s business conferences. Jaseem thought he could shoulder this responsibility , but that pressure would just build up later as he grew older.
Arranged marriage meetings were the worst. Jaseem learnt how shallow and sly people could be, faking their entire personality to coddle up to him for the sole purpose of attaining his family’s wealth. “But that’s just the reality of being the only heir isn’t it”, he thought. Jaseem became increasingly saddened over the fact that no one genuinely TRIED to understand his hobbies or know more about him, only throwing empty praises about his home/accessories/looks.
Since young Jaseem has been fascinated with tigers and his mother was the one who encouraged him to take care of one ( much to his father’s reluctance), thus Rana became his new family member. Many of his suitresses cringed at the sight of Rana whom they saw as a dirty, wild animal. Sometimes Jaseem’s father had no choice but to order the guards to take Rana away in order to force Jaseem to follow his schedule , which made him even more depressed.
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Eventually, Jaseem had reached his breaking point during one of the parties and wanted to escape his “cage” even bringing Rana with him. It was then he met a young, white haired boy in the greenhouse. Jaseem couldn’t hold back his tears when the boy comforted him, claiming that he can share the same sentiments. It was after they were called to the main event where Jaseem learnt that the boy was no other than Kalim Al Asim, the oldest son and soon-to-be heir of one of the richest families in the world and his cousin.
From that moment onwards, the two spent their childhood days together basking in the sunlight and running around the mansion. They confided in each other, became each other’s source of strength to keep doing their best( this was especially stronger for Jaseem towards Kalim). They drifted a little after entering higher education, but still keep in contact.
For Jaseem, Kalim is the definition of the sun. Had he not met this smiley boy showing off his unique magic and telling him how he must continue to do his best as not only the heir but as an older brother too, Jaseem would have had a different fate and never face his reality. This explains why he hates Jamil to the core after knowing what he had done when he overblotted.
Current lifestyle for Jaseem was no different from his younger days, he still attends arranged marriage meetings (fewer due to school) and gets numerous phonecalls from his father about countries they have to fly to for business conferences. Jaseem became more adept at his dealings with women and can twist meetings to end faster to save his time to do something useful.. like picking a new silk ribbon for Rana. 🐯
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Relationships
Kalim
Cousins by blood and childhood best friends. While many students in NRC thinks Kalim is way too carefree, Jaseem would cut in and tell them off as Kalim is not the oblivious rich boy many thinks he is.
He respects Kalim’s motto to be kind to others, lend a helping hand when needed and staying positive despite the challenges life throws at him. Jaseem wishes to protect this precious spirit, praying that Kalim will have nothing but happiness in his life. Jaseem truly looks up to Kalim for being able to smile through everything he’s been through, believing that he wouldn’t even survive a day in that household knowing he might not live to see the next day.
Jaseem can be extremely over protective of Kalim especially when Jamil is around. “I can’t let that damn snake cause any harm to my cousin..”he would think angrily while glaring at Jamil💀
Jamil
If not for the sake of his family image and Kalim Jaseem would have pummeled Jamil to the ground for the things he said and had done to Kalim. While he tries his best to understand Kalim, Jaseem still cannot fathom why he’d want to keep this traitor who doesn’t even consider him a friend by his side.
Unlike his caring and soft self when he is with Kalim, Jaseem treats Jamil like a mere servant and only replies with direct commands. Sometimes he would mock Jamil for the sake of belittling him, but would not stoop as low as to bring his family into it. The atmosphere around these two can be very intense indeed.
If Jaseem learns to see the overblot incident from Jamil’s point of view, perhaps he will come to understand that the two of them aren’t so different after all.
Najma
One of the few girls he respects, Jaseem is like a second older brother to Najma. Of course Najma catches on quick and can tell that Jaseem isn’t exactly fond of her brother, so she has to constantly remind Jaseem to stop frowning whenever he spots Kalim and Jamil together. He tries his best to be nicer to Jamil, but only because Najma wouldn’t stop nagging at him 🤣
Bonus: Rielle
If you’ve seen my old comics about my RSA ocs i often draw Jaseem and Rielle bickering 🤣 Jaseem thinks Rielle is incompetent and has dad issues while Rielle views Jaseem as a weirdo who is way too protective of his cousin, also why would any sane person bring a TIGER to school??
Fun facts about Jaseem’s design
He carries a waist pouch filled with Rana’s treats, various silk ribbons, water dispenser, comb and toys ( just to name a few). The pouch is magically altered to carry many items.
The tiger plush keychain was a gift from his mother when his parents brought him to an amusement park on his birthday. Jaseem did not have the best experience as he was constantly surrounded by guards and journalists, no other children wanted to play with the renowned heir too.
His seemingly blue day turned upside down when he spotted a cute tiger plush in the souvenir shop, thinking about how it looks exactly like Rana. Jaseem’s mother noticed his adoration for the fluffy toy on the top shelf and asked the staff to order one for Jaseem. Even though this silly fabric toy could not compare to the vast amount of gold and expensive gifts Jaseem received, he saw his mother’s gift as something invaluable that money can’t buy.
Till this day he still brings his tiger plush around with him chained to his waist pouch. Though it looks rather dull after being used for years, you can still tell how well washed and cared for it is by its owner.
I struggled trying to incorporate Jasmine’s hairband into the design but for now its a turquoise strand of hair that starts from the top of his head so it looks like a hairband! Its also Jaseem’s way of exploring with his own style knowing that he is far away from his home and strict upbringing. The first time Jaseem dyed his hair he thought “So this is what its like to be rebellious..interesting” 🤣
His earrings are different, the one on the right is a slightly thick gold piece ( OG Jasmine) while the left is a decorative earring with small, dangling chains and a huge jewel ( Live action Jasmine). I thought it would be cool to incorporate both earrings as I couldn’t settle on one.
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END
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed Jaseem too, I’m really happy with the response for Alison haha 😭 Till next time!
*Also I know someone addressed it before but I mean to express Jaseem’s love towards Kalim as familial, nothing more. How you choose to see my OCs is up to your interpretation so long as you don’t twist my words and stories i wrote for them :)
6K notes ¡ View notes
aewon ¡ 21 days ago
Text
golden
heeseung x f!reader g: fluff, angst ⚠️ : cursing, kissing wc: 1.8k
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Growing up wasn’t easy for you.
Your sister was the golden child, loved by all, hated by none.
You on the other hand were the “other” child in your parents lives.
The one who didn’t get as much attention no matter what you did.
You yearned for the affection and praise from your parents that your sister got daily.
Even in school, your sister was popular with many friends while you had a small few.
You knew your sister truly hated you when you confided in her about a crush you had sophomore year, and she began dating him a week later.
Everything you wanted, your sister got.
Every birthday she was showered with love and lavish gifts, while yours were days mostly spent with friends as less effort was given by your family.
Family…can you even call them that?
It was at 18 when you decided to go low contact with your family, your sister included.
You vowed not to let them hurt you anything with their lack of care for you.
You’re now in your senior year of college, and living without being in your sister's shadow has brought more happiness to you than you could have ever imagined.
She decided to pursue school out of state, while you stayed.
You’re going to be graduating top of your class, but of course your sister’s graduation is overshadowing that.
Which is why when you get the text from your parents inviting you home to celebrate your sister, you want nothing more than to say no.
But you know if you do, they’ll raise questions and it’ll be a whole repeat of the conversation you tried having years ago.
Before you left, you tried talking to your parents about your feelings. How you felt inferior to your sister in their eyes.
They, of course, vehemently denied any accusation of favoritism, claiming you were overreacting.
That was the end of that.
So, you suck it up, telling them you’ll be there.
Your apartment and school are a good hour and a half away from your hometown.
You make the drive the next day, dreading being in the same room as your family for the next 2-3 hours.
When you arrive, the house is already crowded.
You pass uncles, aunts, cousins.
None of them bother to greet you, making you regret coming already.
When you find your parents and sister, they make half an effort to greet you.
“Sis, I’m so glad you could make it,” your sister says.
“Congratulations.” You smile, albeit awkwardly.
Without even saying thank you, she rushes off to greet one of her friends.
You saunter away from your parents, finding a somewhat quiet corner to bury yourself in.
You’re scrolling through your phone when someone sits next to you.
You’re surprised to see Lee Heeseung, one of your sister's friends since high school.
You think he’s just sitting down to relax, but then he’s talking to you.
“Hey, Y/N.”
You look up, “…Hi?”
You remember whenever your sister had friends over, you weren’t allowed to talk to them because it upset her.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” Heeseung says.
“Yeah, I moved a couple towns away for college.”
“How have you been?”
“Great! I’m graduating this year.”
Heeseung, who's the same age as your sister, graduated before you.
“Congrats, that’s a big deal. Are your parents gonna arrange a party for you too?”
Your smile slowly fades, “Probably not.”
His brows furrowed in confusion, “Why not?”
You want to tell the truth, the fact that your parents have never cared for you the way they do your sister.
The neglect, the lack of affection, you want to spill everything.
But, he probably won’t believe you, so you wave it off, “I’m just not really a party type.”
He looks like he’s about to say more when you hear your sister squeal his name from across the yard.
Before you know it, she’s rushed over, grabbing Heeseung by the sleeve and dragging him toward their friend group.
You sigh, it’s probably better you don’t talk to him anyway.
The hours drag on and your parents gather everyone’s attention, clanking a fork on a wine glass.
“We’re so happy to have everyone important to S/N here to celebrate her special day. 23 years ago we gave birth to the light of our life and everyday has been a blessing. Our daughter is smart, hardworking, kind and so much more. We can’t think of anyone more deserving. Please, a toast, to S/N.”
Everyone raises their glasses, toasting to her.
You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the tears that begin to form.
Getting up, you quietly leave the backyard, heading upstairs to your old room.
It’s empty, with nothing but a bed and dresser, no essence of you anywhere.
When you moved out, you made sure to take everything with you.
Now, as you sit on the bed, you let the tears fall.
You knew your parents didn’t care for you the way they did your sister. Yet, some part of you still hoped you had a place in their hearts, but clearly that was not the case.
This feels like a knife was twisted in your heart.
“Y/N?”
Heeseung’s voice interrupts your thoughts as he enters the room.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, coming to sit beside you on the bed.
“It’s nothing,” you say, wiping your tears frantically.
“You’re crying, Y/N, that’s not nothing.”
“Why are you here, Heeseung? Why are you talking to me?
“Because you’re sad, and I hate to see you sad.” His eyes are soft, looking at you like you’re fragile.
“You don’t even know me Heeseung, why do you care if I’m sad or not?”
Without warning he cups your face, pulling you forward into a kiss.
Your eyes are wide open in shock, before you relax in his hold, closing your eyes and enjoying the kiss.
Your lips move desperately, as he scoots impossibly closer.
You’re so drawn into the kiss, you don’t hear the footsteps making their way upstairs.
“What the fuck!”
You hear your sister’s voice and immediately break away.
“S/N-” You try to speak but she cuts you off.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’ve always told you to stay away from my friends and this is what you do in return. You know he’s mine.”
You look between her and Heeseung, stuttering out an apology before you rush out of the room.
Running downstairs, you hear footsteps behind you and you run into the living room.
“What happened?” Your father asks as S/N and Heeseung follow closely behind you.
“Y/N apparently thinks it’s okay to kiss another girl's man,” S/N says, huffing.
Your parents turn to you, disgust evident on their faces.
You know it shouldn’t hurt, but it does.
“Is this true?” Your mother asks.
“I…I didn’t know—” You’re grasping at straws, trying to defend yourself.
Everyone is staring at you, looks of disappointment on everyone’s faces.
You feel a new onset of tears coming down and without another word you rush out of the house.
S/N watches you go, then turns her attention to Heeseung.
“Are you okay?” She asks, “Did she force herself on you? I swear I’m gonna—”
“Stop!” Heeseung shouts, silencing everyone’s whispers.
“She didn’t force herself on me S/N are you fucking crazy? I kissed her!”
S/N has the audacity to look confused. “Why would you do that? You know you and I are—”
“We’re nothing!” Heeseung shouts. “We have never been anything more than friends and we never will be.”
“What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you actually like her? She’s a loser, why would you like someone like her?” S/N is blabbering at this point, saying whatever is in her mind.
Heeseung looks at her in utter shock, terrified that someone could talk about their own sister like that.
“You know what I think S/N? I think you’re a spoiled, bratty, insignificant human being. The fact that you could talk about your sister like that, your own family, is appalling. I don’t know what planet you’re living on, but this one doesn’t revolve around you.”
S/N is shocked, “What do you mean? I’m insignificant? She’s the one who’s insignificant!”
Heeseung smirks, “I get it now. You’re jealous. Jealous that she’s pretty, that she’s smart, kind, successful… everything you’re not. And it seems you’ve been nothing but enabled your whole life,” he says with his gaze on your parents.
With that, he heads out the door in your direction.
He gazes down both sides of the street, looking for your figure.
Heeseung finally spots you, on the other side of the road, down a hill that leads to a park.
He jogs, nearly tripping on his way down.
He approaches you cautiously, hearing your small sniffles.
You’re sitting on a bench, criss-crossed, head buried in your hands.
He sits next to you, “Y/N.”
You glance at him, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you. What S/N said isn’t true. We’re not together, in any way.”
You sit up, “Even so, we shouldn’t have been talking to each other in the first place.”
“Why? Because S/N doesn’t like it? Who cares what she thinks!”
“S/N has always been the favorite. Everything she wanted, she got. I.. I never meant anything to my parents, no matter what I did.”
“They’ve enabled her behavior, haven’t they?”
You nod, “For years, I just wanted some kind of acknowledgment from them. But I know I’ll never get it, especially not now.”
“You don’t need people like that in your life. You deserve to be surrounded by people who appreciate you and give you what you deserve,” Heeseung says, pouring his heart out in hopes you’ll understand.
“Like who?”
“Like me.” He smiles. “I didn’t kiss you for no reason. I like you, Y/N.”
Your beautiful eyes blink up at him, “Me? Why? We’ve barely interacted in the past.”
Heeseung leans back against the bench, looking up at the sky like he’s thinking.
“Well, it all started when I came to your house for the first time. I came into your kitchen for water and you were just standing there, looking beautiful as ever. We didn’t talk other than you saying ‘excuse me’ but I knew then that I liked you.”
For the first time today, you smile, a genuine smile.
“That was my first kiss.”
Heeseung’s eyes widened in surprise, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s okay. I liked it,” you say, reassuring him.
He smiles back at you, “Then, can I do it again?”
You don’t answer with words, instead leaning forward to peck his lips.
He chases your lips, pressing them together again, longer this time.
When you part, he looks blissful. “Y/N, would you give me the honor of taking you on a date?”
You lean into his side, snuggling into it as he wraps his arm around you.
“I’d like that.”
For once, you have something your sister doesn’t, and damn does it feel good.
—————————————————————————
note: hi, this is based off the number of reddit stories i’ve read about golden child’s and bullshit like that so hehe, enjoy
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kyufessions ¡ 1 year ago
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glitter
synopsis: you walk in on your daughter giving your fiancĂŠ a makeover
genre: fluff, domestic
pairings: fiancĂŠ, non-idol! jeno x g.n. reader
word count: 2.2k
a/n: i really went off with this lmao. this is the most inspired i’ve been in a while for a story so hope y’all enjoy!
general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois
nct taglist: @jungsusvillain
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Glitter was going to be everywhere in your house for the next two weeks, but you honestly didn’t care much. on any other day you would sigh about it and remind your daughter, aecha, to ask you first before doing so or remind her to use her designated playroom rather than the living room but coming home to see your fiance sitting across from a four year old as she smothers his face with cheap eyeshadow and glitter, you couldn’t help but find yourself amused by the sight. There sat an almost six foot tall man in grey slacks with a light blue button up shirt and a loosened tie in the middle of your living room floor, across from him was a little four year old girl using a barbie eyeshadow palette all over his face- the purple glitter hitting pan as she used it for nearly everything.
“Sit still!” she demanded in her tiny voice as she smeared a green shade across his one eyelid, the other one already light pink with a sparkling shine. The concentration on her face was very evident, her cheeks puffed out as her eyes squinted to get a clearer look.
“Sorry, sorry.” he mumbled, a small chuckle leaving past his lips as they upcurved into a grin. He tried looking up at her to watch what she was doing but she reminded him to keep his eyes down so she could get all the color on him, earning another mumbled ‘sorry’ from the grown man. “What color are you using?”
You stood against the door frame watching in silence, the door still slightly ajar as to not warn anyone of your presence. Instead, you took out your phone to record the moment quietly. When you first started dating jeno, you were scared he wouldn’t accept that you were a parent of a two year old. You had been on countless dates within the past few months, but none of them ever went past the first two because as soon as they found out you had a child they didn’t want anything to progress further. With being in your early twenties, you figured not many people would want to see someone that was already a parent. And you definitely didn't want to date anyone who was a lot older than you, so you were stuck. Well, until you met jeno that is.
You remember the day as if it were yesterday: you were at the local park down the street from your old apartment complex, watching as aecha played in the sandbox with some other children. All the other parents were older and ignored you for the most part, judgemental stares were never not thrown your way when you would explain she was indeed your daughter and not your niece, sister, or cousin. But you always ignored them, not caring much about what people thought about you. Having aecha was something you had never regretted, not even for one second. As you sat there in your thoughts and sipped on your iced coffee, you felt a presence sit next to you on the bench. You glanced at them from the corner of your eye, noticing it was a man in a navy blue plaid shirt and jeans. He seemed to be around your age, maybe younger by not much. Silence hung between the both of you, but it didn’t seem too awkward- just that type of awkwardness you feel when meeting a stranger for the first time.
“Uncle!” you heard a child yell as they ran towards him, his arms up in the air asking to be picked up.
And the stranger did just that, picking up him gracefully and putting him in his lap. “Hajoon!” He greets him with a smile, and when you glance at them for a second you can notice how both of their smiles are practically the same. “What’s up? Are you feeling okay?”
The child nods, his smile turning into a pout. “Yes! But can we stay a little longer? I want to help them finish their sandcastle!” his little finger points towards the small group of children your daughter was sitting with, their little selves working hard at building a sandcastle as tall as the tree next to them- or at least, that was their goal.
As soon as the stranger tells him it's okay, he hops off his lap and runs back towards your daughter and her group of friends she's made. You both sit in silence again for a few moments, watching the children carefully as they get to work. It wasn't until you were mid-sip on your caramel iced coffee when the stranger spoke up.
“Which kid is yours?” the deep voice asked, making you turn your head in his direction as you pointed towards your aecha.
Quickly swallowing your drink, you finally responded. “The one with the pigtails and bows in her hair with the rainbow overalls.”
Jeno watched how you smiled at her when she waved at you, making his lips turn into a shy smile. Through your simple actions he could tell you adored her more than anything, and he admired that right off the bat. “The loud one in the dinosaur shirt is my nephew, hajoon.” you nod, taking another small sip of the remainder of your coffee. Not wanting the conversation to stop, he continues on. “Is she your niece?”
You shake your head, finally turning your head towards him. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled made your stomach flip for a split second before you brushed it aside, choosing to ignore how handsome this stranger was. “No, she’s my daughter.” The shock on his face was subtle, but the change in his facial expression gave away his surprise. You just smile at his expression, used to it by now. “I had her young, but she’s everything to me.”
For the next half an hour, you both sat there as the kids would knock down and rebuild their sand castles before jeno received a call that it was time to start bringing hajoon back home for dinner. Throughout that time, you both got to know one another. You learned how he was a year younger than you and how he had just started college, how he also enjoyed doing music on the side here and there for extra money at times. And although you were still young, he admired how you still put yourself through school and two part time jobs just to give your daughter what she deserved. When he learned of you being a single parent, he mentally cursed at the person leaving you to care for a child at such a young age. How dare they do such a thing?
“Will you be okay getting home?” he asked as hajoon jumped on his back, his arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold on tight.
Nodding, you fix aecha’s hair quickly before grabbing her hand and standing towards the opposite direction. “I’ll be okay, thank you. I live right down the block.”
From then on, every Saturday you would ‘coincidentally’ bump into each other at that same park, him with hajoon and you with aecha. But what you learned after you both officially started dating for a few months was he would volunteer to hang out with hajoon every saturday. He'd take him out for lunch, sometimes take him shopping or to the arcade, but one thing he never missed was taking him to the park around the same time every weekend. It took jeno a month of that same routine to finally ask for your number, then another month to ask you on a proper date, and then a third month to officially ask you out. It’s now two years later and jeno is nearing the end of his graduation with a job already secured for him, while you had finished your college degree a year ago and was able to work from home most days. The day after your graduation jeno had proposed, but asked to wait until he graduated to move forward with wedding planning. Agreeing, you both divided to just move in together for the time being and secured a three bedroom apartment together closer to where his new job would be located. Everything with jeno seemed like a fairytale you never thought would happen.
“Green!” aecha exclaimed, a proud smile appearing on her face.
For a few moments more you watch them talk about how green would and wouldn’t match his outfit best, and aecha offering jeno one of her princess dresses that would look better than his ‘ugly outfit’. Chuckling lowly to yourself, you stop recording and close the door behind you before walking towards them with a smile.
Aecha automatically runs up to you with a smile, her body clinging to your legs as you bend down to her level and envelope her into a hug. “What's going on here?” you ask her, finally noticing the small specks of glitter on her face as well. You smile at jeno as he looks at you with a playfully defeated look, the lipstick that your daughter chose everywhere except for his lips.
She tugged at your hand, pulling you further to where your fiance sat with his legs crossed. “I made daddy pretty!” you both laughed at her comment, using your pointer finger to turn jeno’s face more towards you for a better view. No words needed to be exchanged, all you did was smile at one another as your eyes said it all. “Do you like it?”
Turning to her, you kiss the top of her head and pat it afterwards. “I love it! Can you do my makeup tomorrow for daddy and i’s date?” as she starts jumping up and down with joy, you stop her quickly by putting your hand on her shoulder. “But only if you can do one thing for me.” she nods eagerly, waiting for the deal. “If you start getting ready for your bath, you can do my makeup tomorrow. I’ll even give you bubbles for tonight, how does that sound?”
Before you know it, she runs down the hall and up the stairs to her room, you both watch as she runs into her room and closes the door behind herself to start changing. When jeno turns around, he sees you kneeling down to his eye-level and smiling at him in an attempt to hold back laughter. Failing as soon as he smiles back at you with a toothy grin, you sit on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck as you press multiple pecked kisses against his lips as you both laugh together.
“How was work?” you ask after smothering him with kisses, bringing your thumb up to his face to smudge away some glitter from the apple of his cheek. “Your day seemed eventful.”
He takes one hand off of your waist and takes your hand in his, placing a kiss on the back of it. “It was good, the internship is promising and I have my last day of classes this Friday before graduation.” jeno starts blinking rapidly as he feels glitter in his eye, quickly rubbing it away and grabbing your hand again afterwards. “Aecha and I made ramen for lunch and then she wanted to do my makeup. I know how you feel about glitter but I, unfortunately, had no say in the matter.”
“It's okay as long as you help me clean it up afterwards.” you say, sneaking your phone out of your pocket and taking a few quick pics of jeno before you get up and drag him towards the bathroom to wipe the makeup off his face. He watches you do so, admiring every move you make. Even though you looked tired from work, you still had a glow that he never got tired of. Alluring couldn’t even begin to describe how he saw you, no synonyms could ever begin to describe. Even though your face was straight, your lips always had an upcurve to them that came across as welcoming and friendly. And when you were concentrating, you bit the inside of your bottom lip ever so slightly as your eyes were slightly squinted.
“Let's have another.”
Giggling, you stop what you're doing and look him in the eyes. “What do you mean, ‘let's have another’?”
He grabs your hands, intertwining your fingers together before kissing your knuckles as he speaks. “I mean, let's have another kid.”
You always knew jeno wanted more kids, and now that aecha is in daycare and has friends who have siblings she keeps asking for a brother or sister more often than not. After your daughter, you always told yourself you wouldn’t have more kids until you were older- maybe early to mid thirties. But with life falling into place, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect time.
“I like that idea.” you confess, smiling from ear to ear as jeno lifts you up by your thighs and kisses you deeply. But the kiss is soon cut short as you hear aecha coming down the stairs towards the bathroom.
You just couldn’t wait to grow your little family even more.
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merakiui ¡ 1 year ago
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we know and love our breeding obsessed tweels .. but there’s an obvious candidate whom I haven’t seen given much attention.. and it’s our favourite apple <3
back in harveston, it’s been mentioned how there isn’t much youngins around .. apart from epel and his cousin .. but in terms of ppl his age??? 0 … so it’d be easy for his family to talk him into stuffing you full and getting you pregnant when you come visit one day… you don’t know that epel secretly introduced you to his family as his wife .. and that the analytical eyes they give you and your body was bcs they wanted to see just how many kids you could handle birthing naturally at a time… truly terrifying how they put this much thought into the time you need to rest before being full with his baby again .. bcs they don’t do hospitals but instead the women in the family use their knowledge (midwivery) to advise you </3
aa just the thought of epel and his family peer pressuring you into giving them kids and continuing the family line has you feeling all guilty </3 like it doesn’t matter what u want bcs you’d be doing it for the betterment of the village! how they convince u that eventually, when u become a mother, you’d find happiness that comes w it .. (silly reader … your choice and wants never even mattered in the first place! bcs if you showed resistance they’d just drug u and put u to sleep w epel’s unique magic and get u pregnant anyways </3)
truullyyy terrifying! beware of dear grandma’s sad puppy dog eyes knowing u refuse to give her great-grandkids! (lies … she knows what she’d doing </3)
also! can I be epel felmier anon? 🍎💜
OMG THE SOMNO POTENTIAL WITH EPEL'S UM........ how could I have missed it,,, it's literally called Sleep Kiss. T_T uuuwaaaa Epel wanting to practice his UM and you agree to let him practice it on you because surely it won't have any negative impacts, right? But he puts you to sleep and somno ensues...... or he puts you to sleep and the other first years are around as well. >_< you're like a practice pussy for them......
If anyone's going to gaslight and manipulate you into having children, it's all of Harveston. ;;;;; and most of them do it unintentionally. They just think it's so darling Epel has a best friend (read: wifey) like you who is the sweetest thing they've ever met. You and Epel make such a cute couple (of hopefully expecting parents). All of Harveston dotes on you, showering you with affection every time you visit. You're practically part of the village by now. Whenever you come to visit, whether for a holiday or a break, Marja always welcomes you with open arms, as does the rest of Epel's family. But it's Marja who is especially pleased to see you. She checks you over, asks if you've been eating well at NRC, asks if Epel's been looking out for and taking care of you, and so on.
I feel like the entire village would throw such a huge celebration when you finally become pregnant. They make such an event out of it; it startles you at first, but Epel explains this is just because there are so few children around and everyone, especially the elders, are so very excited to finally see the village grow and become more lively with young folks! You'll have everyone's full support before, during, and after your pregnancy! They are just so fond of you and are always encouraging you to eat lots (of foods that improve fertility, but you don't need to know that...).
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demigod-shenanigans ¡ 2 months ago
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Credit where credit is due because it was @poppitron360 bringing up Jason’s extended family in a fic that made me think about this.
Anyway. I think Leo deserves some closure with his extended family, too. Obviously it’s never going to happen with his shitty aunt. However. He has a cousin.
His name is Raphael. We don’t really know anything about him except that he bullied Leo when they were kids (that’s the only half-sentence mention he gets). Obviously this isn’t a great start, but I think it makes sense in context.
Rosa never liked Leo. Maybe it was a superstition thing. Maybe she took issue with the fact that his dad wasn’t in the picture. Maybe she convinced herself that he’d somehow ruined her sister’s life. Either way, of course her behaving that way and talking badly about him affected her own kid.
Raphael also didn’t really get Leo, who went on about boring machine stuff Raphael didn’t care about for ages and just wouldn’t shut up. Who’d only play in very specific ways and get upset when Raphael tried to change the rules. He was weird, and Raphael didn’t like him, so he was mean to Leo.
When Rosa tells him Leo is going away and he’ll never have to see him again, Raphael isn’t upset. He takes his mom at her word that it was Leo’s fault his aunt died.
But Raphael was nine, then.
(I’m putting most of this under the cut because it got incredibly long. Oops. Fair warning, I did make myself weep writing this.)
Raphael doesn’t think about Leo for years. They were never close. He’s just a weird kid that used to be a family member but that they’re not seeing anymore. Raphael has friends and school to worry about. Leo doesn’t even cross his mind.
But then he’s packing for college, going through boxes in the attic, and there’s two that look weirdly different from the rest. He’s curious and opens them. It’s mementos. Pictures of Esperanza, and of Leo, and a whole bunch of random trinkets taken from their apartment after the workshop burnt down. And suddenly he’s wondering what happened to his baby cousin, ashamed he hasn’t thought of Leo in so long.
So he asks his mom. Rosa shrugs and tells him Leo went into the foster system and they’ll thankfully never have to deal with him again. That if there’s any justice in the world, he’s dead, because it’s his fault that his mom died.
Raphael is horrified to hear her talk like that. Leo was eight. Even if he did make a stupid mistake that somehow led to his mom dying—and he isn’t nine anymore, he won’t just take his mom’s word for it this time—that’s more traumatizing to Leo than anything. And he was just left alone to deal with it all. A child with so much blame on his shoulders, made to feel like his family didn’t love him.
He’s kicking himself for not asking about Leo sooner. For not being nicer to him when they were kids. For not being there for him when his mom died.
He asks which foster home Leo went to, and his mom snaps at him to drop it. But Raphael doesn’t drop it. He asks his dad when he gets home, and his dad tells him.
It’s a dead end. Leo hasn’t been there in years. Ran away after a few days, apparently. It’s a miracle the person he calls even remembers who he’s talking about.
There’s nothing he can do about it now. But he takes the boxes along to college. If Leo can’t have them, the least Raphael can do is keep them far away from his mom. He puts up a picture of Esperanza and little Leo along with the ones of his own friends. Because if all he can do is carry their memory, he will.
The question of what happened to Leo never quite lets Raphael go. He tries a few avenues over the years, but it’s like Leo vanished into thin air. The only solace he has is that he doesn’t find any obituaries that fit.
Eventually, he decides to look into becoming a foster parent with his wife, and that’s how he finally finds Leo. One of the older social workers mentions she knew a Valdez boy that would be around his age now. Got into a whole bunch of trouble. Ran away from several different foster homes. He was sent to Wilderness School in Nevada the last time she saw him. Apparently ran away with a classmate—Piper McLean. Never heard from him again after that.
She only remembers because Piper is the daughter of a film star she really liked at the time. It’s just a weird random anecdote to her.
But Raphael knows Piper McLean. Not well—they’ve never really talked—but he’s seen her at an office party or two because she’s married to one of his coworkers. Reyna works in a different department, but he could talk to her. Ask her if Piper knows what happened to Leo. If maybe they’re still in contact, though that seems like a long shot after so many years.
He’s desperate and terrified to maybe, finally, get some kind of answer.
It takes him two weeks to work up the courage to talk to Reyna. She’s confused at first. They’ve only made smalltalk a few times, most of it work related.
But when he brings up Leo, something in her face changes. Yes, she knows Leo. He’s never mentioned a cousin—Raphael isn’t surprised—but she supposes a cousin could exist. She asks what he wants from Leo, and he’s honest with her about the fact that they didn’t have a great relationship growing up but tells her he’s grown since then and that he still has some stuff that rightfully belongs to Leo that’s been sitting in boxes in his house for years.
She gives him Leo’s number, albeit with some reluctance.
He calls and tells Leo that he gets if he doesn’t want to talk to him but at the very least he wants him to have the boxes with Esperanza’s things—boxes that should have been his in the first place. Leo doesn’t even have to see him if he doesn’t want to. Raphael can just drop the boxes off with Reyna or something. But he wanted to apologize for being a jerk when they were kids, because Leo didn’t deserve that.
———————
Leo is shocked to hear from Raphael, to say the least. When he first hears the name of the person on the other end of the line, he freezes up. He barely manages to keep it together for the call and afterwards, he melts into Jason’s arms and starts weeping because a part of him is terrified that this is some sort of cruel prank. Terrified to let himself hope he actually has a relative on his mom’s side of the family that cares. Terrified of whatever might or might not be in those boxes.
But he agrees to meet Raphael, if reluctantly, and he brings Jason. Maybe there’ll be some closure in it. He’s wary, because his cousin was really mean to him when they were kids, but they were also eight and they’re adults now and he realizes kids sometimes do dumb shit when they’re eight and growing up with terrible adults.
Leo is anxious when they walk into the restaurant where they’re meeting for lunch—Jason promises to lightning bolt Raphael through the nearest wall if he starts shit, which makes Leo laugh and relax a little, and they walk in holding hands.
Raphael spots them and his whole face lights up. He looks so different from how he looked as a kid, but there’s still that same scar on his forehead from the time he ran into a table when they were six. He still has the same eyes twinkling with mischief, but they’re not malicious now. He looks genuinely happy to see Leo.
Raphael is clearly nervous meeting Jason, who’s much taller and much more muscular than him, which Leo takes great joy in. And Leo gets the apology he was promised. He’s shocked to hear how long Raphael has been looking for him—shocked that apparently someone on his mom’s side of the family did care about what happened to him. And Raphael doesn’t even ask about his mom. Doesn’t ask what happened, which Leo was terrified he would. He just tells Leo he won’t believe the bs his mom is spouting about him anymore, and he’d like to be at least a little involved in Leo’s life, if Leo wants that. Even if it’s just the occasional call or Christmas postcard. But if Leo wants nothing to do with him after everything, he understands that. He’s just glad to know that Leo is safe and happy and loved.
Leo tells him he’ll think about it.
Jason sits with him when he finally brings himself to open the boxes. There’s so many pictures—several framed ones that they had up on the walls and a whole photobook with pictures of Leo, from birth until age eight. There’s several pictures of just him, and several of the two of them together. The last few pages are empty—memories they never got to make—and all of it is so incredibly painful but he can’t believe he gets to have all of this. Jason holds him through it, stroking his back and kissing his hair and telling him they can take breaks whenever he wants. Leo spends all night telling his husband so many half-forgotten stories of his mom as they look through the pictures.
There’s more in the boxes. A few of Esperanza’s tools. Her lucky screwdriver. An old folder with project sketches she made all the way back at uni that she’d sometimes show Leo drafts of. Random decorative items they had up around the house, many of them hand-crafted. There’s this tiny toy dragon his mom made him as a consolation when he was small and begging for some cool toy they absolutely couldn’t afford and Leo cannot stop crying when he finds it.
Also up there with the photos and the dragon on the list of things that make Leo weep the most is a thick notebook that’s halfway coming apart. It’s got pages torn from magazines and hastily written notes stuffed into it. Some pages have prints glued on them, others are hand-written, in his mom’s hand and different ones Leo doesn’t recognize. A lot of it is faded, and some of the pages have clearly had water spilled on them by accident, but most of it is still legible.
It’s his mom’s old cookbook.
And it’s so much less of her than he should have. But having all those memories back that he thought he’d lost forever means everything.
But after a full night of weeping in Jason’s arms and a lot of cooking (and making sure the cookbook is no longer at a risk of fading or falling into bits when you breathe on it) and even more processing he shoots his cousin a message that just says “I think I like the idea with the Christmas cards”.
And they’re never going to be best friends or anything. I don’t think Leo ever tells Raphael the truth of who he is or what happened to his mom.
But they talk to each other on the phone sometimes. Leo meets Raphael’s wife, and, eventually, his kids. Raphael meets Sofía a handful of times and sends her birthday gifts and Christmas cards every year.
He’s the reason Sofía gets to grow up with her abuela’s cooking and with pictures of Esperanza scattered around the Waystation, and Leo is always going to be grateful for that.
I’m assuming like three people total will read this all the way to the end at most! Thank you for putting up with today’s specific Leo brain worms. Not sure if this will ever be a proper fic because I have way too many ideas but have this for now
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lemonmaid ¡ 2 months ago
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"I wanna be next to you".
Prequel to this. This was a long time coming 💕💕💕 A/N: let me tell you how much I was struggling with a timeline because some JJK characters do not have official birthdates. I wanted Toji to be a young adult but a teen for like "This is why it's important". But then I found out Gojo and Geto would be two of reader! Were five so that's the age gap. Reader is technically three years older than the two. Idk this is just fanfiction and I'm probably overthinking this.
Warnings: a lot of angst,, sorry :p. Omegaverse fucked up timelines. Teen parent technically. Bullying (but it's a five year old, just push them??). Non curse au! Gender neutral reader! Platonic Toji!
You remember how your older cousin, Toji was thrown out for presenting as an omega.
You were around five at the time, your parents took Toji in. It was such a controversy at the time but you didn't care, you were just upset at a new smell being in your room.
Back then, omega protection laws were non-existent. This was before The Great Sleep.
"Get out of my room!" You tried slamming your door but Toji's hand grabbed the door.
"Auntie said we had to SHARE, you little brat".
Your face scrunched up in tears, "NO! I don't your stinky scent in my room!".
Toji pushed the door open, "Come here you brat!!!". You screech, trying to flee the room.
A knock interrupted the two, and Toji stared at (Name). "Stay here, I'll get the door".
(Name) stuck out their tongue, ,"I hope it's the police to take you away" they mumbled.
...
Toji opened the door carefully, letting the chain stay locked, "yes?".
At the door stood two paramedics, chaos in the background. "Sorry for disturbing you sir. We are making rounds around the neighborhood-".
The other spoke up, "If you have an omegan family member, don't let them out".
Toji looked at the second one with disgust, "Excuse you?".
"There is a sickness- it's only killing omegan gender. Do not leave this apartment, don't let anyone in".
Toji unlocked the chain, opening the door with such force. "What the hell do you mean-".
The other paramedic finally spoke up, "Listen, we are just relying on the message- the CDC-".
(Name) came up behind Toji, pulling the teen's jacket, "Toji, where're my parents".
The paramedics said their goodbyes and moved on to the next door. Toji shut the door, speed walking towards the living room to turn on the news.
"Toji-".
"Not now pup-".
(Name) felt tears in their eyes, their lips wobbling.
Two weeks later, Toji and (Name) were living on their own. The news channel always stayed on, Toji watching the developments, the rise of omega deaths across the world. This disease was only spreading towards omegas.
Some people were already conspiring that this was a government population control, but if it was, why is everyone freaking out?.
"Toji, I'm bored-".
"Go play with your toys".
"I already did that today".
"Do your homework".
"I don't have any homework! I'm five!".
"Go check to see if we were left any food at the door".
(Name) huffed before pushing a chair to the locked door, and looking out the peephole. "Nothing!". (Name) climbed down and went to sit by Toji.
"Where did you get that scar?".
"I fell".
"On your face?".
Toji was silent, he was like a brick wall. (Name) didn't understand how Toji was an omega, omegas are supposed to be nice and sweet, well that's what their grandpa said.
"Did my dam or sire call yet?".
Toji sighed before pulling (Name) into his side. "No".
"Oh... do you think they are okay?".
"Yeah".
Another week went by. After quarantine for a month now, Toji decided to start turning off the TV during the day.
He knew he shouldn't doomwatch something in front of a kid who was already scared of a dark hallway.
"Ew! Rice again!".
"Yes, now hush and eat!". Toji fussed over (Name)'s hair.
(Name) pulled away, "I want fruit!".
Toji' huffed, "Stop moving, no pup related to me is gonna walk around with matted hair!".
"It hurts!".
"Yeah because you don't brush it!".
"I still want fruit".
Toji let out a long sigh, "We get what we get, the government is nice enough to give us extra rations because of my second gender and because you're a snot nose pup".
"Nuh uh!".
"Yeah huh!". Toji made a face at (Name) before going back to their hair.
One month later.
"Come on, I'm not always going to be able to help you do your schoolwork". Toji mumbled before doing his schoolwork. School was supposed to start but with the disease still spreading, they decided to just have schoolwork delivered every morning along with rations.
(Name) let their tears fall to the paper, "I don't understand!".
Toji looked over at the paper, feeling something burst in his brain, "it is asking how many apples you have after giving Yuri five".
(Name) held up their fingers, "I- I- I don't know!".
"If you.... have eight apples... and you give Yuri five how many do you have left over?".
"1..2.."
"No- count down from eight-".
(Name) let out a cry, "I can't!!".
Toji smiled down at (Name), "Do you wanna trade?"
(Name) nodded before giving Toji their paper, then looking down and seeing a graph labeled a, b, and X. Before letting out a loud cry.
3 months later.
Toji left the TV on all day, his leg shaking while watching the television.
(Name) tries to ignore the tapping, "do you wanna play Candyland?".
"No".
"Oh...".
(Name) tried paying attention to the TV but they didn't understand what the adults were saying. They knew what laws ment, dammy said it is something you can't break without getting in trouble. So with that context that means the adults talking about laws.
"Toji?"
"Yes pup?".
"What are they talking about?".
"Adult business".
"But I'll be an adult soon, that makes it my business".
Toji snorted, "they are basically... giving omegas-".
"You're an omega".
Toji bit his cheek, "yeah... us more.... protections".
Toji watched the screen it was almost like a prayer too late. A laughable one really. It was a national protection for omegas, due to the disease killing more than one third of omegas on earth. They were basically a special class, a class of royalty some news anchors were calling it.
'How pathetic' is what stayed in Toji's mind. He couldn't think how their second genders already prevent them from harming omegas intentionally but the fact that some people have to be told now and make it a punishable sentence for harming a omega is just laughable. The system failed him for being an omega and now the system is begging for him?
All Toji could think about is his damn grandfather calling, begging for Toji to return to the family. Because now omegas were worth more than an alpha child. How laughable.
Appernlty the found a cure for the spreading disease, now some people are blaming heat suppressants on the disease , way to send society back another 20 years.
.....
Toji looked down at (Name), his arms crossed, "Okay. Again do you have your backpack?".
(Name) spun around flaring their new yellow schoolbag, "yep!!".
"Do you have your hat?".
"Checked!".
"Lunchbox?".
(Name) looked puzzled for a secound before rushing to the fridge, a small "got it" could be heard in the kitchen.
"Come on, we are going to be late".
Toji was fidgeting with the collar of his school uniform, "damn things are always too tight". (Name) followed right behind him, trying to step in his steps. Toji stopped walking causing (Name) to crash into him. A small oof was heard.
Toji rolled his eyes, "Stop screwing around we are here".
(Name)'s eye lit up at the scene of a playground, "can I go play toji?!".
"You gotta get to your homeroom first"
"Okay okay!" (Name) tried to run off, before Toji grabbed their collar. "Let me walk you to your homeroom"
The homeroom was to colorful for Toji's eyes, he grabbed (Name)'s backpack and put it in their assigned cubby. "Now (Name) what did I say what to do after school is over?".
"Ummmm wait in the playground?".
"Yes and?".
"No talking to strangers!"
"Good, I'll try and get out of school fast as I can, do not move. Hear me?".( Name) nodded before hugging Toji's legs.
...
"Zenin (Name)?" .
(Name) put their hand up, "here!".
The teacher nodded, before moing onto the other roll call.
Looking around the room, the classroom had alot and I mean alot of butterflies all over the wall. The first grade classroom felt kinda baby-ish to (Name) but what they were really fixated on was the colorful plastic bears that were sitting in a Tupperware. It was calling to (Name). So as soon first recess came by (Name) rushed to the bin grabbing the big box with their small arms and made their claim on the box.
Name started lining up the bears by color then by size, then by color again.
"Can I play?" A small voice asked.
(Name) looked up from the floor and made eye contact with a black haired girl, "ummm yeah! You can have thiiiisss much". (Name) gave half of the bears to the girl.
"Thanks! My name is Utahime!". The girl sat right next to (Name) . (Name) looked over at what Utahime was doing, "what are you doing?".
"They are a family see! That's the sire, their pup and the dam-"
A kid snatched the small bear our of Utahime's hand, "hey! Give that back!!".
"Why should i". The kid glared at Utahime, his pink hair was the only thing that stood out to (Name), besides his ugly face-.
A boy who looked just like the bully was behind him, pulling the bully's arm, "Come on suki- just drop it!".
"There are no more dammy's there all dead!".
The classroom went quiet, all the other pups staring at what Suki said.
(Name)'s lip quivered, "No, Toji said that... my dammy is just missin'. They'll be back-".
Some of the other kids started to cry, the scent of the pups that usually smelt like warm milk immediately soiled into sour milk causing all adults in the building to immediately investigate the scent.
Toji got called to the office in the middle of class. "Family emergency" they said, turned out that (Name) was in the office and waiting on the phone.
"Listen, pup, you can't call me whenever-".
Their sniffles over the phone made Toji's omega ache, "he- he- said that- my dammy is dead!".
Toji clutched the phone, his heart dropped, "Listen to me (Name), don't listen-".
"I just want my dammy Toji!".
...
'Damn it!' Toji clutched his now empty suppressant box, his last one he bought before the outbreak.
He hasn't had his heat since he presented, which like all omegas happened when he was sixteen.
He couldn't just buy a new box, suppressants were place on immediate temporary ban untill they find the "contaminated batch" that started the outbreak last year. Sighing before exiting the bathroom and grabbing the phone on the wall.
"What are you doing?".
"Calling us both out of school"
"Why?".
Toji put the phone up to his ear, "Adult stuff".
(Name) bit their pencil, they were gonna finish their homework but now they are distracted with Toji talking on the phone.
The following days, Toji was clingy to (Name), constantly holding the pup to feeding them like a baby. (Name) tried hiding in their room but was pulled out of their room and dragged into the livingroom where Toji had blankets all over the couch.
"Toji".
The older omega hummed.
"You remind me of my dammy... they used to do the same thing what you're doing when my sire was away. Is it an omega thingy?".
Toji hummed in agreement.
"Toji?".
He hummed again.
"Promise to not leave me like they did".
He was quiet.
...
Toji didn't want (Name) to be aware of how bad it has been, let the kid be a kid. The day (Name)'s parents left the house, was the day locked down happen. (Name)'s parents called Toji every night, asking how their pup was. Toji could hear the sickness in their voices. He was losing two aunties, but (name) was looking two parents. (Name)'s parents left enough money to cover rent and some groceries for the next year but it wasn't enough for them to keep living in the nice apartment.
The day Toji got a red letter on the door, he knew he had to do something. Toji dropped out of school, even when he only had to finish that year. He needed to provide, his own omega was telling him to survive for the pup. The day he got his sketchy job from an old friend is the day he saw someone he never wanted to see ever again.
"I see you've kept yourself well".
Toji's heart was in his throat, he felt like he was gonna vomit. He was getting odd looks because of his scent souring but the reaction is normal when you are your own grandfather who kicked you out of your own pack.
"Oh come on, where is the formality?".
"Leave".
"I'm sorry?".
"I don't want you here.... in my life-".
"I'm not worried about you".
"Why are you here then?".
"That... pup you have in your care".
Toji felt his omega growl at him, his instincts telling him to run home and make sure that (Name) was okay.
"Let's walk".
Toji followed behind the shorter alpha, as they walked, Toji felt the hairs on his neck on the rise.
"I'll cut this short, the pup needs to be raised with their family".
"I am their family".
The alpha growled, "the law may now protect you, but you have no support. Listen I'm not here to fight but the clan is worried about the pup believe or not".
It was silent.
The alpha sighed, "Listen Toji, what I am trying to say is can you provide them structure? Can you give them a pack life where they'll understand what happens in a pack?".
Toji knew he was right in a way, he is a highschool drop out taking care of his five turning six year old cousin.
"What I am trying to tell you Toji is that, don't rob them of that. They deserve a family".
The alpha left, leaving a small note card with a phone number.
...
"Where are we going?".
(Name) saw how Toji was urgently packing their clothing and they took note of how quiet Toji was during this whole ordeal
"Toji".
Toji sighed before falling to his knees, he put his hands on (Name)'s shoulder. "Listen... pup".
The front door opened, letting three betas in and an older alpha.
(Name) looked at the four nervously, "Toji who are they?".
Toji bit his cheek, "they... they are gonna take you to our pack".
(Name) looked at Toji with wide eye, "You're coming right?".
Toji couldn't look at them.
"Toji! Dont let them take me!". (Name) wrapped their arms around Toji's neck. Toji hesitated taking their arms away, but carried them into one of the beta's arm.
(Name) cried and screamed, "you promised! You promised!".
(Name) cried for Toji as they were taken away. The older alpha stayed behind, enjoying Toji's shame. "Well... since the government is now giving families 14,08450.00 yen per every omegan that presents, here is your share... I hope you enjoy it". The older alpha snickers before leaving the apartment, leaving Toji alone.
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inbloomwriting ¡ 1 year ago
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a kiss that I kept II Jamie Tartt
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Plot: Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of Jamie's dad. Notes: Friends to idiots to lovers. Inspired by "Simple Song" by the Shins Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please
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When I was just nine years old I swear that I dreamed Your face on a football field And a kiss that I kept Under my vest Apart from everything But the heart in my chest
There’s something cathartic about being back home in Manchester. Not as a footballer, just as Jamie. When he doesn’t have to be phenomenal, when he doesn’t have to perform and win. When he doesn’t have to try so damn hard to give his dad a reason to be proud of him.
Without those expectations and without the pressure, it feels good to be home. It’s a part of his childhood that is untouched by his father’s malice. It’s pure and joyful and precious.
He’s not Jamie Tartt, golden child and footballer extraordinaire. He’s cousin Jamie. He’s Jamie from down the road. He’s Georgie’s boy. 
It’s been a while since he’s been back, been even longer since he’s seen any of his extended family but being back now, it feels like hardly any time has passed. Millie has always been his favorite cousin so when the envelope showed up in his mailbox, all fancy paper and swirly font, there was no hesitation in him. Nothing could keep him from attending her wedding.
She’s a beautiful bride, all flowy dress and flowers in her hair. It’s almost hard to believe she’s the same kid that used to run around the neighborhood with Jamie, getting into trouble wherever they could find it. But somewhere between chiffon and carnations that little girl still exists. He wonders if the little boy he used to be is still alive somewhere inside of him. He hopes he’s proud of who he grew up to be. Sometimes he doubts it. 
His eyes wander across the room, the reception is in full swing, people are talking, laughing, celebrating. Love is radiating from every smile. Though Jamie doesn’t really care all too much about that if he’s being completely honest, he only cares about one particular smile. 
And when he catches sight of her, leaning against the bar with a glass of champagne in hand, wearing a gorgeous powder pink dress and daisies in her hair, he’s certain his heart misses a beat. 
It would be an understatement to call (Y/N) his best childhood friend. Friend was never a big enough word to describe what she meant to Jamie — what she still means to him. 
Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. 
“Are you planning on talking to me anytime soon or do you just want to stare at me all day, Tartt?” 
She says it with the same sense of mischief she’s always held. Like a silent promise of adventure perpetually hidden in her words. 
“I was going to — eventually.” 
“Well, eventually is not good enough for me. I missed you, Jamie.” 
It’s only when she pulls him into a hug that he realizes just how much that sentiment is reciprocated. The familiar scent of lavender and the feel of her body against his, it all brings up so many memories of times long gone. This, Jamie thinks, is as close to time travel as humans will ever get.
He is suddenly 9 years old, playing soccer on the field just down the road from his house. His football is old and slightly inflated and some of the hexagons are flaking off, just holding on by a single tread. His goal is no real goal and all but two plastic bottles functioning as make-believe goalposts.
 The air smells like sunscreen and summer and dust and life is easy for a moment. He gets to do what he loves without having to prove anything to anyone. Football is just a game here, something to pass the time. It’s fun.
He does kicks and jumps and trick shots and it doesn’t matter if he messes up. He can fail without having to fear any repercussions. There is no one there to judge him for it. Failure is a byproduct of trying not a sign of weakness. 
Just as he is about to line up another shot at the makeshift goal, he sees her across the football field. At 9 years old, Jamie doesn’t know a lot of things but he’s quite certain she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. For a moment he wonders if she’s a dream, an illusion. Then she steps closer, comes walking towards him with that bright smile of hers and the glimmer of excitement shining in her eyes. 
“You’re really good,” she says. He’s heard that a few times before, it never mattered then because he wasn’t good enough, not to his father at least. It matters when this stranger says it though, because she’s pretty and because she has no reason to lie to him. 
“Thanks. I’m Jamie.”
“You’re bleeding.” 
His eyes follow to where she points at his right knee and sure enough, it’s scraped up, a drop of blood running down his leg.
“Does it hurt?” 
Jamie shrugs as if to let her know that it’s not a big deal. It does sting quite a bit now that she pointed it out to him. He’s not gonna let her know that though, girls don’t like soft boys who whine about scraped knees.
“I have a plaster if you want one. So you don’t get any dirt in the wound.” 
She doesn’t even wait for an answer, just rummages through her purse that’s shaped like a little poodle, and pulls out a plaster. Jamie holds out his hand though she doesn’t pay it any attention, just kneels down and softly, so fucking softly, put the plaster over his wound. It’s the first time he smells her lavender shampoo, the first time she smiles at him, and the first time she sends his heart racing. 
“I’m (Y/N), by the way.” 
And his life has not been the same since.
“ I missed you too.” 
It’s the truth. He missed her terribly. But sometimes it’s hard to reconcile who he is with who he used to be. Who he is now with the person she used to love.
“Could’ve fooled me, you don’t even answer my insta DMs, you ass.” 
Even when she curses him out, she regards him with infinite affection. 
The girl that put a plaster on his bleeding knee is now a whole woman, but the kindness is still the exact same. The softness she holds for him is still there.
“To be fair I hardly check those. They scare me, honestly.” 
“At least your mum updates me on your life. She was always my favorite Tartt anyway.” 
He loves how much she loves his mum and how much mum loves her. There is something so inexplicably comforting in knowing the people you love most share a bond. 
“Think you’re her favorite too.” 
“Oh yeah, I know I am.” 
Her laughter rings through the air like the sweetest song he’s ever heard. It’s so awfully cheesy, his own thoughts almost make him barf. But she just has that effect on him. 
“You look beautiful today, (Y/N).” 
“Today?” she asks in mock offense and though he knows it’s really just a joke, he feels the need to explain himself.
“Don’t get me wrong. You’re always proper fit but that dress? You look like a fucking angel.” 
The way she bites her lip slightly and bashfully averts her eyes for a second, is a success in his book. 
She really does look gorgeous, a whole vision of perfection. The pink dress, the flowers — the necklace. 
A shiny rose gold charm sparkles in the light, resting gently against her skin. Heart-shaped like his feelings for her. He knows the pendant opens up and he knows exactly what he’ll find if he were to open it. 
His lips lift in an involuntary smirk.
“What’s that look for, Jam?” 
“You still got the necklace.”
She places a gentle hand against her chest, against the heart-shaped charm.
“Obviously. I will never ever ever get rid of it. I love it. You stole this for me!”
He was 14 and stupid and head-over-heels in love. He still remembers the sticky heat of the summer clinging to his skin, the taste of watermelon on his tongue, and the thought of her on his mind. 
They spent all day riding their bikes around town with nowhere to be and everywhere to go. It was a good day, a phenomenal day. She shared her ice cream cup with him and held his hand on the way back to their bikes. It was a phenomenal day and Jamie was not ready to let it end just yet. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up as she looked at that necklace in the shop window. 
In retrospect, it was an extraordinarily dumb idea, one of his worst to date, but it made her smile. The way she smiled at him when he gave her the necklace that he stole for her, that made it all worth it. The yelling from mum and the being grounded and the having to pay back the money by working at the store for 3 whole months that summer. 
Her smile made it all worth it.
“Mum was so mad at me that day.”
“Well, you did commit theft, so —” 
“Worth it though. Made you smile.” 
“Oh, Jam you— “ 
The nickname gives him shaky knees, the interruption by the DJ gives him a fucking headache.
“May all the unmarried ladies please report to the dance floor, it’s time for the bouquet toss.” 
“That’s my queue, I guess. Save me a dance, Jamie Tartt.” 
He will save her every damn dance in his life. They are all hers if she wants them.
She stands in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by a bunch of other women, a flicker of friendly competitiveness shining in her eyes. If she’s joining in on the bouquet toss, that means she’s not married, does that mean she’s single? 
Of course, he could’ve asked mum, she knows for sure, but that would just open a whole different can of worms. You don’t ask your own mum if the girl you’ve been in love with since you were 9 years old, is single. You just don’t, no matter how badly you want to know.
The DJ starts playing Girls just wanna have fun, (Y/N) hated that song. “It’s awfully overplayed”, she said one time they were driving in his car, before changing the station. 
She must still hate it judging by the grimace that falls over her face for a mere second before she catches herself and puts another polite smile back on her lips. 
Millie stands before the group of women, back towards her friends, and bouquet raised in the air before counting down.
One 
Two
Three
The flowers fly through the air and land in the hands of a girl whose name Jamie can’t recall but she’s definitely one of the bridesmaids. Chelsea? Cristy? Something like that. She looks elated, a guy leaning against the bar looks mortified. 
(Y/N) seems thoroughly unbothered by it all as she strolls back across the dance floor toward Jamie. 
“Do you want me to congratulate you or give you my condolences?” 
She just laughs and shakes her head “It’s not like I have any suitors waiting for me to offer them my hand in marriage anyway.” 
So she is single. Not that it matters or anything. It’s good to know though.
His eyes sweep across her face, then her hair, where one of the daisies is barely holding on and just about to fall off. Without giving it another thought, as if moving on autopilot, Jamie gingerly plucks the flower from her hair and places it behind her ear. There’s something about her that makes him want to be soft, that allows him to be soft. 
“Almost lost one.” 
“Thank you, Jamie.” 
The tenderness in her words almost sends him to his knees. When you’re used to words being sharp and bitter it’s hard to accept when they are silky and delicate. 
“You have the saddest eyes, Jam. What’s bothering you?” 
There is a big long metaphorical list of all the things that rest so heavy on his heart. The pressure of having to be the best version of himself at all times. The feeling of failure always creeping up on him. The fear of messing up. The idea of not being good enough. 
The reminder of what could’ve been and of all that isn’t.
He has a whole big list of things that make him sad — he doesn’t say any of that though. Just shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance. 
“Don’t know what you mean, I’m chuffed. Doing fan-fucking-tastic.” 
She can read him like a book, always could. Jamie doesn’t know why he even tries to fool her, it’s not going to work either way.
“I know that’s a lie,” (Y/N) scoffs then regards him with a look he can’t place. It’s a mix between pity and something else, something warm and comforting. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me about it. I’m aware we aren’t as close as we used to be but I just want you to know that I am always in your corner, Jamie. Always.” 
He has no doubt she means what she says but Jamie isn’t sure she really knows what she’s talking about. She knew him as a little kid, an awkward teenager, a misguided 20-year-old. She doesn’t know this new version of him. Bitter and a little lost — or maybe a lot.
Jamie isn’t sure this new him deserves her loyalty.
"There's something that does make me sad, actually."
"What's that?"
"The fact that I’ve not had a single slice of cake yet. That’s why I’m here, innit?”
“And I thought you were here to celebrate your cousin getting married.” 
“Common misconception, really. I mean I am — but mostly it’s about the cake. Technically I’m on a diet but it's a wedding, that doesn’t count. We all know that.” 
They both know he’s just talking out of his ass. Of course, he’s here for Millie. For the wedding and the family get together and all of it. And even a little for (Y/N). Because he really did miss her … so fucking badly.
“Oh well, let’s go get us some cake then. Can’t have you starving, not Jamie Tartt — the island’s top scorer.” 
Jamie has done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t particularly proud of. He tries to see them all as learning opportunities, cautionary tales for a future him. Doesn’t mean he likes to think about them. Especially not his short but quite memorable stint on the dating show Lust conquers all. All the worst parts of him put on display for everyone to see and discuss and judge, every night at 8pm. 
“You watched that then?”
“Uh, obviously?! What’s a best friend’s job if not to laugh about you while you make a fool of yourself on a dating reality tv show?” 
It warms him from the inside out, to hear that she still considers him her best friend. He’s not sure he’s been very good at it in the last few years. Has barely talked to her. But then again, who makes the rules? Maybe some people are bound together so tightly from the very beginning that neither time nor distance can break them apart. 
“I’ll have you know that I was number one on famous birthdays the day after I got eliminated from the show. So, who’s laughing now?” 
“Were you? How long did that last?” 
“Like a day, maybe 2. Then it went back to John Krasinsky, fucking wanker.” 
“Aw babe, well you’ll always be my favorite person born on October 20th. “ she says as they both come to stand by the table decked out in cakes and other desserts. “ I do like the office though, hmm…” 
"Oh, sod off. You’re breaking my fucking heart.”
He likes the way she hugs his arm in mock apology. She’s not sorry, in fact, she’s still laughing. It doesn’t matter if she’s laughing with or about him though. As long as there is a smile on her face, that’s good enough for him.
“Sorry. Can I make it up to you?” 
Jamie nudges her shoulder with his, the way they always did when they were kids. That little boy that was so in love with her, he’s slowly but surely clawing his way to the surface again. Breaking free from Jamie’s ribcage where he has been kept hidden for such a long time now.
“Well, what about that cake then?” 
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The neon lights dip her in shades of blues and pinks and purples as she twirls on the dancefloor, weaving in and out of the crowd. Jamie is sure he’s seen this very moment in a dream of his before. 
“Oh, you look so handsome, my baby. Are you having a good time?” 
His mother’s voice cuts through his hazy daydreams as she plops down on the chair next to him. No matter how old he gets, Jamie doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of his mother’s affection. Her unshaken faith in him and her unwavering belief that he is a good man, after all.
“You’re my mum, you have to say that.”
“Absolutely not! Remember when you had that dangly earring? I told you right out you looked like a muppet.” 
“Yeah you did,” he nods and takes a sip of his beer “Crushed me, honestly. Loved that earring. Thought I looked well cool.” 
“Well, you know who didn’t hate it? (Y/N).” 
That gets his attention. Eyebrows raised he takes his eyes off of the girl in question and turns fully towards his mother.
“How would she know? She didn’t see it.” 
“Yes, she did. I showed her a picture when we had girls night.” 
It's a nice image, his mum and (Y/N) having girls night. Sure, having them team up on him is terrifying, but he can't help but relish in the fact that his loves love each other so dearly. 
"Girls night, huh? You ladies talk about me a lot then?"
"Are you joking?" 
The way his mum raises her eyebrow is so familiar. It's the same damn expression he sees in himself all the time.
"That girl has been in love with you since you were kids. Of course, we talk about you a lot. You're all we talk about, Jamie. "
As a kid, Jamie always wondered what it felt like to put your finger straight into an electrical outlet. He never did it, obviously. But there was some strong curiosity there.
This is what it must feel like. Hearing his mother say that (Y/N) is in love with him, that's what it must feel like
Electric shocks straight to the heart.
“What?” 
His mum just shakes her head, there’s that smile pulling at her lips. That typical mother's smile that tells you that they know you so much better than you know yourself.
“Come on now, Jamie. You know this is how she feels, everyone does. She adores you. Same way you adore her. That is how you feel, isn’t it?” 
Of course, it is. She’s everything. She feels like an ocean being warmed by the sun. Warm and inviting and comforting. Beautiful. Tender. Soft.
“Don’t matter really, does it? We haven’t talked in so long. Doubt she even knows me well enough anymore.” 
“She watches every match, goes to most of them if she can. She even bought that video game you’re on. Girl is almost as proud of you as I am. Look love, “ Mum rests a gentle hand on his arm. “I don’t know half the things that are bothering you right now but I do know that you’re struggling. I just want you to know that you are not a bad person, Jamie. The little boy you used to be deserved to be loved and so does the man you are now. You made bad choices but you still deserve love. We all make bad decisions sometimes. I know I made a lot of them when I was younger.” 
“Hah, like having me.”
He passes it off as a joke but there’s a hint of truth swinging along. She was really young when she had him and while he knows she doesn’t resent him for it, he wonders if maybe her life would’ve turned out better had he not come along. Mum loves him unconditionally and she always makes sure he knows it so it’s a silly thing to think about really. It’s a fleeting thought and it really only shows itself when he’s already deep in his thoughts but when it does, it sends him spiraling. 
The slap to the arm is not friendly or in good humor, that one is meant to sting.
“Don’t you ever say that again. You are my life, Jamie. I love you. Having you was the best decision I’ve ever made. You hear me?” 
It’s dumb really, he knows Mum loves him. It’s always been them against the world (or well, them against dad, really). But sometimes his head gets so loud and fills itself with stupid thoughts.
“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I love you, mama.” 
“Love you too, my baby boy. And I am so proud of everything you ever did, okay? Except maybe the earring.” 
A chuckle falls from Jamie’s lips. “The earring was a bad idea, I got it.”
“Good. Now go dance with your girl, yeah? You two are driving me crazy.” 
His girl. His girl wraps her arms around his neck when he walks up to her on the dancefloor. His girl looks up at him with the most radiant smile. His girl who feels like the sun and smells like lavender and wraps his heart in silk and sweet memories.
“Finally, thought I was going to have to drag you onto the dancefloor. You still owe me a dance.” 
“Sorry. Not much of a slow dancer, yeah? I do know some great boy band choreographies though, and the cha-cha slide.” 
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. Coach made us learn a full N'sync routine for Doctor Sharon's going away party. She didn't show up but I was fucking ace. I’m sure Keeley has a video of it somewhere.” 
She grants him a smile though it doesn't reach her eyes.
"How is Keeley? How are you guys?"
There's an edge to her words and if he didn't know better he'd call it jealousy. But that doesn't make sense … right?
There's no him and Keeley, at least not in the way she's asking about. There never will be. Keeley is one of his favorite people but her friendship means so much more than any fickle try on upholding a relationship doomed to fail. Jamie thinks there's something brave and mature about that realization.
"She's good. We're good. Friends I mean. Good friends."
"No more dating?"
"Nah she's dating one of my best friends. Hated it at first but they're kinda perfect for each other. It's a bit disgusting, really."
Those words manage to pull the smile all the way up to reach her eyes. It's magnificent. Spectacular. A laugh tumbles from her lips, a sound so sweet if he were to taste it, he's sure it would put the most delicious honey to shame.
"You know," Jamie speaks and pulls her closer as they absentmindedly sway along to the music " I never thanked you."
"For what?"
"For the phone call that one night."
It was just after Manchester had kicked him out. No one wanted to sign him. He had burned bridges with everyone who ever stood by him and gave him a chance and Jamie had never felt more lost and more alone.
He just needed someone. A piece of home. A reminder of the 9-year-old boy who loved football for the fun of it all. He needed her. 
He hadn't expected her to pick up that night, he really didn’t deserve it. But she did. Of course, she did. She always did.
"You don't have to thank me for that, Jamie. You are you and I am me and I will always pick up the phone for you."
It's such a simple thought. The most basic of all concepts. You are you and I am me and there will always be a space for us in my life and yours.
"I just - I felt very alone and lost and I hated the person I was then. It was like I was some boat or something, stuck on a cliff. And then when I talked to you and you had my back anyway it was like all my fears that I told you about suddenly disappeared, you know? Like you sent me a wave, a flood and gave my boat a lift over the rocks. I know it sounds fucking silly but Ted has me reading all these books with the big words. Making me feel all smart and philosophical."
She's so gentle when she combs her fingers through his hair, tugging some strands back behind his ear. He will never grow tired of soft touches and even softer looks.
"Jamie, even if I didn't like the person you were then, I loved you anyway. I don't have to like you to love you. Loving someone means accepting that they make mistakes but giving them room to become the person you know they can be. You wanted to change for the better and honestly, I think you turned out pretty spectacular."
Jamie isn’t quite sure if he will ever grow used to receiving love in the form of comforting words and soft touches but he truly relishes in it, always. 
"Do you wanna get out of here? Party is about to wind down anyway. Don't think anyone's gonna miss us."
The night feels heavy with possibility. 
"Sure, Jam. Where do you wanna go?"
"Doesn't matter. Nowhere. Anywhere. As long as I'm with you."
The glimmer in her eyes tells him she has an idea.
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The bench by the side of the field looks the exact same it did when he was a kid. Chipping red paint and rotting wood. Initials in permanent marker forever immortalizing past versions of whoever wrote them down. Time forever frozen.
Jamie is 9 years old again and he is also 11 and 13 and 16 and 25. It’s all the same. It’s all so different.
The field is no field anymore, it’s now a proper little football pitch with a goal on each side. 
“What happened here then? That wasn’t there when we were little.” 
(Y/N) strolls across the field, twirling in her dress illuminated by the moon and the streetlamps. She looks like something out of a movie. He’s sure if he was a smarter man, more poetic, he’d be writing songs about her, poems, books.
 In that book Ted made him read, there’s this one line that Jamie suddenly remembers.
“She was dazzling-- alight; it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance”
He thought those were just big words for saying some girl was well fit. He thinks he might get it now.
“Yeah well, some of us put together some money and convinced the neighborhood council to finally turn it into a proper pitch.” 
“Some of you?"
“Mostly your mum, Simon, and I”
She meets his eyes across the field and his heart still does the same silly shimmy it did when he first saw her face. 
“Why?” 
“So another little 9-year-old kid gets to play with actual goals and doesn’t have to use plastic bottles.”
They did it for the kids, the community. But they mostly did it for him, for the child in his heart that never grew up. That is clinging to his insides and that only gets to live in his memories and in the hearts of the people he loves. The people that love him.
(Y/N) leans against one of the goalposts, a smile playing on her lips as Jamie strolls up to stand in front of her, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. His jacket is long forgotten on some chair back at the wedding venue.
“You know”, she says and lets her gaze drift upwards towards the sky. There is too much light to see the stars but Jamie thinks there’s still some kind of comfort knowing they are up there even when you can’t see them. The authors of the books Ted gives him, they’d have some flowery pretentious allegory to tell about all of this. He is no author, he's just a fool in love.
“This is where I had my very first kiss. Right here.” 
Jamie wonders if she knows of the little electric shocks she sends straight to his heart when she lowers her head and looks straight at him while speaking those words.
It’s not news to him. Of course, it’s not. 
He was there. 
“Oh, was it?”
“Yup.” 
“Hope the lad was alright.” 
“He was perfect — for a twelve-year-old. I was also 12 though so I had nothing to compare, really.” 
“What was he like? Lucky kid.” 
“He had this really badly bleached blond hair. Tried to do it at home with a cheap box dye. Didn’t listen when I told him it was a bad idea.” 
“I bet he looked fucking cool.” 
“Had a bit of an ego, that one. Still does. Bit misplaced for someone who looked like Draco Malfoy.” 
“You had a big fat crush on Draco Malfoy.” 
“Yeah,” he doesn’t know when it happens. One moment they’re joking around, strolling down memory lane and the next her hand is in his hair, his hand on her waist, noses almost touching. “I did.” 
“Do you wanna know a secret?” 
“Uh-huh.” 
“That was my first kiss too.” 
There’s a flicker of surprise shining in her eyes.
“Huh? You said your first kiss was with Emma behind the playground.” 
“Well I was lying, wasn’t I? Wanted you to think I’m cool and experienced.” 
“We were 12 you dum dum. And I always thought you were cool.” 
He was not cool at 12. No one is cool at 12. It still makes him weirdly proud to hear her say it. 12-year-old Jamie would be positively buzzing at that revelation.
“I um — Jamie, why did we never talk about it again? I know we were 12 and whatever but it meant something to me. Did it mean anything to you?” 
Some memories, Jamie thinks, are meant to be shared. You want to tell everyone about them over and over again and it feels like you might burst if you don’t share them with others. 
And then there are memories that are meant just for you. Beautiful places to escape to. So you keep them hidden in your chest, apart from everything else but your heart when they beat in sync. And they become part of you. And they keep you alive. That’s where he keeps this kiss. The first one. The only one that ever mattered.
“It means everything to me. But I — I wanted to keep that kiss to myself. That was mine and yours and I didn’t want anyone or anything to ruin that or turn it into something bitter and sad. “
“If I were to kiss you again, would you also want to keep that a secret?” 
He shakes his head, his nose gently nudging her’s with the movement.
“Nah, I’d wanna scream it from the fucking rooftops.” 
When she kisses him he is 9 years old again, seeing his future staring right back at him through the face of a little girl. He is 12 years old kissing her in the field, a kiss he’d kept with his heart ever since. He is 14 crying on the floor of her room the night he got back from the Amsterdam trip with his dad. He is 16 and a prick to everyone but her. 
He is 25 and more in love than he’s ever been.
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“50 fucking pence? Are you joking?”
“Nope. Dead serious.” 
“That’s fucking mental.” 
Her laughter echoes through the night as they walk down the familiar streets paved with countless memories. He#s holding her hand and he’s never felt more delighted about anything so simple. 
“They still taste fucking great though.” 
“They do, don’t they?” 
Leave it to (Y/N) to continuously surprise him. As they started their walk back towards her house, she pulled two Cadbury Freddos from her sparkly purse. Jamie can almost feel the sun on his skin from all the walks they did to the corner shop during summer holidays to get some Freddos and a smarties pop-up ice.
“Don’t tell Roy I ate chocolate though, he’s gonna kick me ass.” 
“Your secret’s safe with me.” 
Her childhood home is coming into view just down the road and with it the end of this night. The door is a deep red color, he remembers (Y/N) helping her dad paint it when she was maybe 10 or 11 and her parents never seemed to have changed it since. 
“Soooo what’s happening now?” 
It feels a little silly to ask but Jamie has spent so much time keeping his questions inside of his head and not voicing them to her and he wonders just how much time he wasted because of that. Time he could’ve spent with (Y/N).
“I — I don’t know, Jamie. I want this to be. I want us to be, always did. Probably always will. But I don’t want you to choose me because being home pushed you into some kind of nostalgia-induced stupor or something. I want you to be sure about us. So, how about you sleep on it and tomorrow morning you pick me up for breakfast and we’ll talk? “
If he’s being entirely honest, he doesn’t want to talk. All he wants is to kiss her and then kiss her some more. To make up for every second that he wasted not telling her how he felt. But she is being rational and sensible as always and he has to respect that. Out of the two of them, she was always the reasonable one while Jamie did first and then thought about it later.
“Okay yeah. I’ll see you in the morning then.” 
“Goodnight, Jam.” 
“Night, (Y/N). You look beautiful by the way, not sure I said it.” 
“Thanks, you look very handsome too.” 
There’s an I love you on the tip of his tongue and he so desperately wants to say it but when she places a kiss on his cheek and opens the red door, all his thoughts just slip from his mind.
“Bye, Jamie.” 
“Bye.” 
He stays stuck for a moment or two before his legs slowly carry him down the road. The night is inky black and the street lamps' horrid orange-hued light reflects against the asphalt. 
So many times he’s walked down this exact road wondering what could be. Wondering how to show her how much he loved her. Wondering if someday, somehow they would end up together. 
9-year-old Jamie knew she was his destiny from the moment their eyes met across the football field. What would he think seeing him now, walking away from all he ever wanted? 
What’s that quote from that romcom the team watched together the other day?
“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
The shiny black shoes he’s wearing are not meant for running. He figures that out as he turns on the spot and rushes back down the street toward the red door. There is no need for him to sleep on anything. He has never been more sure about anything in his life. Ever.
His heart is racing as he reaches the house, as he knocks on the door, and as he rings the doorbell — for good measure. 
His heart stops when she opens the door, her dress gone and exchanged for a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt.
“Jamie? You forgot something?” 
“I don’t need to sleep.”
“What?” 
“I don’t need to sleep on it. I know what I want. I want us, I want you. Always did. Always will. You’re the only person I want to talk to when I feel shit and you’re the first person I want to tell when something good’s happened. I want to ride my bike with you the way we did when we were kids and eat freddos with you even if they’re 50 fucking pence now, which is insane. I want to go to weddings with you and dress up fancy and I want to sit on the couch and watch movies with you we’ve both seen a million times. I want you to make fun of my stupid earring and have you help me dye my hair and I want to kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are every single fucking day. I want everything and anything as long as it involves you. And I don’t need to sleep on it. I am sure.” 
“Jamie?” 
“Yeah?!”
“Kiss me!” 
He doesn’t need to be told twice. 
It feels right, to hold her and to kiss her. Like all his life has been leading up to this moment. To her soft lips on his and her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist.
And he thinks she might just feel the same. She doesn’t need to say it to let him know. She tells him with his tongue, with the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin, with her breath in his lungs. 
He is 9 years old and also 12 and also 14 and 16 and 20 and 25. He is all those versions of himself and each of them was and is in love with (Y/N).
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a-romantics-guide-to-life ¡ 3 months ago
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⋆ ₊☽˚𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼˚☾₊ ⋆ 
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𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : you and coryo had gone through hell and back, you've been together and far apart yet you could never find the courage to say how you truly feel for him. so, you wrote them into letter form, but you never sent them. and so what happens when one mr. snow finds each and every letter only to realize that it's too late?
𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : written in letter form from the readers perspective, talks of jealousy and sad feelings, r is definitely from the capitol
𝓪/𝓷 : tbh, i have SO many other things i should be writing but this idea popped into my head and so i've been writing it when i have time in between classes and other stuff so here ya go, hope you enjoy!
𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽
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⋆ ₊ ☽ ·˚𓍲⋆ 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮: 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸𝓻 ⋆𓍲˚· ☾ ₊ ⋆ 
Dearest Coryo,
Congratulations on making the top twenty! I am so proud of you darling! 
After everything that we’ve been through, you deserve it. I am sure that the Plinth Prize will find its way home into your hands so you can pay off your family's debts and so you can finally take me out on a proper date.
I know that I will be there in person to congratulate you at the reaping ceremony but I just wanted you to know that no matter what, I will be cheering you on from the side lines. 
You know, the first letter I ever wrote for you was way back when we were kids during the war, right? 
Me and my family had just fled to our safe house in the mountains and I was wondering how you and your family were doing. Then of course, news of your fathers murder spread even into our small cabin in the middle of nowhere. Of course, my first instinct was to pull out parchment and a pen and just write, write, write. 
And write, write, write I did. I somehow ended up writing 30 pages of parchment front and back recounting every single moment we had until that exact moment. From the first time we met at the tender age of three at a family dinner, to the first moment we played at the park together. Even now, I still remember the ache of my wrist after writing for nearly the entire afternoon. My mother even helped me bind the collection of letters into a book for you, do you remember that?
Or well, I suppose you don't see as I never sent the letters. Something in my chest just never let my hands grab the letters where they lay hidden in my room, underneath my bed. My heart never left those pages though, and as I write this letter I feel my heart once again pouring into every dotted i and crossed t. 
I have no doubt that this letter too will never see the light of day just as many other letters I have written over the years have. It is quite the affair after I finish a letter. I feel as though I have accomplished something by immortalizing my feelings and memories into these written pages of paper.
Anyways, I love you and I am just so proud of you my dearest Coryo.
Love, 
Your Biggest Admirer
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Dearest Coryo,
I am so terribly sorry for you. My heart aches just knowing that you got so close to the Plinth prize only for Dean Highbottom to rip it out of your grasp and shred it into a million pieces right in front of your eyes.
And not to mention, the new mentorship you are expected to undertake, I mean do they not know who you are. 
Coriolanus Snow, the brightest, most intelligent, most caring, and most loving student at the Academy, a school known for the rich snobby kids who pay their way up to the top.
You’ve worked so hard to get to where you are today, even your cousin worked so hard just to help propel you to where you are now darling.
I believe that it is an utter disgrace to the Academy name to have students such as ourselves, though one could argue you are from another world entirely compared to us plebeians, to mentor district scum. Not to mention, they think it will be a challenge for you to tame that wild Lucy Gray Baird. 
Sure, you may get nervous but I know you will pull through. After all, Snow lands on top right?
Although, sometimes I wish that Snow would land on top of me. Oh to feel you hovering over me as you kiss me tenderly or passionately. To be honest I would take either of the two. 
It is quite ridiculous, and embarrassing really, how gorgeous you are. I often find myself staring at you from across the room. Your deep blue eyes focused on the assignment or task at hand, sometimes your eyebrows would pull together when you are concentrating on calculations or deep in thought. Your nose would scrunch, adorably, and your lips would forma tight line when you stumble across a particularly hard problem. 
But you never stop trying, it's why I love you. You’ve worked hard to reach where you are today, never bribing people with long winded promises or money. You always worked for what you got, even if you didn’t have to put in all your effort. 
The fact of the matter is that you’re brilliant Coryo. Even when we were young, I remember there was a time when we were playing hide-and-seek and you just knew me too well and found me within five seconds. 
And see that’s the thing, you remember. You always knew exactly what to say to make me laugh when I was crying, what to do when I was furious, and especially when I was sick, you’d bring me flowers and snacks while I lay too nauseous to even ask anyone for food. You truly know me too well.
Just like I know you. Or atleast, I like to think I know you better than say Clemensia. I know that you prefer tea over coffee in the mornings no matter how many espressos you drink with Felix. I know that you dislike strawberry shortcake no matter how many people rave about because you dislike cake. And I know that no matter how hard to try it, those bright blue eyes of yours can’t hide the hunger you have. 
Most importantly though, I know you hunger. Money, power, glory. You thirst for it and I just know that through this mentorship you will be satiated and heavy with happiness after. 
I will cheer you on, no matter what Coryo. 
Love,
Your Biggest Admirer
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Dearest Coryo,
It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?
You’ve been quite busy though so I understand. You’ve really taken into this mentorship, haven’t you?
Not that I blame you, everything you’ve ever wanted is right within your grasp as long as you prove to Dr.Gaul and co. that you are deserving of the Plinth prize. But, that also means that you have to do everything you can to also prove Dean Highbottom wrong. 
Of course, that also means that we haven’t really been together in quite a while. 
Not that I mean it in that way it’s just, I miss my best friend sometimes you know. 
It’s been a blessing to have grown up with you. And to have found you after the war. You are after all, still my Coryo. 
But of course, because I know why you’ve been busy so I guess I’ll let it slide as long as you let me treat you, and Tigris and your Grandma’am, out to dinner when you win that prize. Once you solidify your future with me. 
Of course, not in that sense, but as in we can attend the University together and take this country by storm together. 
I’ve noticed that you and Lucy Gray have been quite close. It was sweet of her to not leave you for dead after that awful rebel bombing. 
Did you know I visited you in the hospital as soon as I heard? 
You were laying there, skin all sickly and sticky. There were tubes and stuff hooked up into you. The doctors said that they would help you heal quicker so of course I thought nothing of it. And now you are better. 
Me and Tigris never left your side in that hospital bed. Sometimes I wonder if you had heard all of my ramblings as I say there beside you in that dingy hospital. 
I wonder if you felt my hand as I stoked it back and forth waiting, pleading really, for you to wake up. 
I wonder if you felt my hands as I wiped the sweat off of your forehead and handsome face as I cried for you. 
I wonder how it felt for you when you woke up and I wasn’t there. You see, Gaul and Highbottom had asked me to step in your place to soothe wild Lucy Gray before she performed on stage. I’d like to think it was because they both knew how close we are. Or perhaps they thought it proper torture to remind me just how much you needed this win and how willing they were to keep you from it. 
Regardless, I still begged Lucy Gray to perform with a guitar from my family’s collection that had been requested by you. 
And I’m glad that we had a common shared interest, you. 
It may have been too much of a shared interest between you and her because I saw you two at the zoo tonight. I left before you two could notice me but the burning ache in my chest left a scar that wouldn’t heal. The way that you cradled her fear ridden face. The way that she tenderly took your hand as you wiped her tears away with your mother handkerchief.
Do you like her!??
But regardless you are my best friend and I just want you to be happy so I’ll pretend I never saw anything, promise. 
Anything for you, right?
Anyways, the Games are tomorrow and I hope the odds are ever in your favor Coryo.
Love, 
Your Biggest Admirer
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Dearest Coryo,
You did it! That Plinth prize is as good as your darling. I'm so proud of you, I mean this is huge, it's your ticket into the presidency. Now, not even Dean Highbottom can catch you now. I hope you unleash your bitter fury onto all of those who doubted you and show them truly how Snow lands on top. Some people just seem to gossip as they please, talking about your too tight shoes and your tile buttons but none of them can take this win away from you Coryo.
Goodness, the way you lit up as you won. It kind of hurt though when you didn;t even spare me a second glance after you won. You and Tigris just looked so relieved and happy which made me happy for you. That all that mattered to me at that moment, you happiness. You smile that nearly lit up the entire Capitol. Of course, when you turned to look at me with those warm arms of yours open for me to jump into you, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
And the feeling of you lifting me up, thanking me for supporting you through everything, kissing my cheek, I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with you Coryo. 
The feel of your lips against my cheek lit up a light in my chest that I thought I lost when I saw you and Lucy Gray in the zoo that night. 
I’m just glad that now that the games are over, we can forget this Lucy Gray and cleanse ourselves of the Games. She can go back home to 12 a hero and a leader and we can continue our lives as they were. 
Maybe we could even go out for a celebratory round of drinks, if you want.
Love,
Your Biggest Admirer
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Dearest Coryo,
Where are you? 
After your win it’s like you’ve just up and disappeared. Tigris has been talking about an eviction and losing the penthouse. I thought that the Plinth prize was yours?
Even Highbottom hasn’t said anything about your whereabouts, or well not to me anyway. But even Sejanus said he knows. 
Coriolanus, I’m worried about you.
There have been rumors that you cheated in the Games and got exiled. I hope they aren’t true. I know you, you’d never cheat and destroy your chances at getting the money. Highbottom, no matter how much we hate him, had a point with making the punishment for cheating in the Games severe. There’s no way you would stake your entire family and your home for some District girl, right?
You hate cheaters yourself, remember that one time that we were playing a card game and I had hid some of the cards in my sleeve to ensure I won? You didn’t talk to me for three months. You hate how Clemensia always takes all the credit for your partner assignments when you know damn well that her wrist has never known ache like yours. You hate how Felix has never even had a meaningful conversation with any of the people at political dinners yet he had more support than you did amongst the rich and powerful. You even hate that Sejanus’ family had so much money from a war that we suffered from only to be inducted into the very society their people had been at odds with.
Sejanus told me that you had given Lucy Gray rat poison to kill the other tributes with. He even told me that you retrieved him from the arena, killing one of the tributes. And he said that you had been exiled to 8 to serve as a peacekeeper.
That can’t be true, it just can't, right? 
I mean, even if you had been sent to 8, you would’ve at least told me right? And Tigris would’ve told me and your Grandma’am would’ve surely written to my father with the news. 
Highbottom and Gaul must be mistaken right? There's just no way in my mind that a boy as smart and sweet as yourself would throw away everything for some District clown in a frilly dress. There is just no way that you would’ve manipulated Gaul into letting her into her lab just so you could sneak in and make sure Gaul’s hellish snakes wouldn’t sic Lucy Gray. There is just no way that you snuck her your mothers compact full of poison to use in the Games. And there is just no way that you killed a boy in the Arena saving Sejanus, there's just no way?
Right?
There is no way that you would leave me here to rot all by myself in the capitol without the one person who has ever mattered to me. 
Regardless, whenever you come out of whichever hole you are hiding in, I’ll be here, waiting for you to come home.
Love,
Your Biggest Admirer
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this one was admittedly not as sad and its not too long but i hope you enjoyed! stay tuned for pt 2!
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hashimasims ¡ 4 days ago
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Presenting Kaye for @changingplumbob's Dating Deanna
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Hello there! Umm . . . My name's Kaye and I'm applying to be a contestant on Dating Deanna
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I've just recently aged up to a young adult (21 in Watcher years) and moved out of my Mother's house and into an apartment in San Myshuno! Nothing I ever did made her happy but I think most of that stems from the fact that we're on one of the spare branches of this save's legacy family - did I forget to mention my last name is Glynnan? I was also born a human which is a MAJOR area of contention for my mother Deliliah who thinks it's a disgrace but my big brother Domenic loves me just the same and doesn't care that I'm not exactly the girly girl princess mother always wanted. I wanted to play football instead of joining the cheer leading team in high school and I'm a bit of a glutton - though I consider myself more a foodie who just enjoys ALL food!
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I'm an Adventurous sim and I love the slopes of Mt. Komorebi just don't put me on a set of skis, snowboarding is the only way to go down the mountain! I do have to admit that though I don't dislike rock climbing I'd much prefer using the safer machines found at gyms to actually climbing the mountain after hearing about my Uncle Daolong's incident.
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I'm working on becoming a professional athlete one day and here's to hoping one of the EA Gods will patch in professional snowboarding. If that happens I'd be the happiest woman ever! But currently just making Candles and selling them on Plopsy to make a bit of extra cash while I slowly move up the athletic career corporate ladder.
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I love listening to music at the end of a long day but PLEASE no winter holiday music! I heard far to much of that All I Want for Winterfest Song while I was working retail as a teenager I NEVER EVER want to hear it again if I can help it!
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Now for the specifics I guess . . .
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I'm a cisgender female still exploring their sexuality. I'm attracted to both men and woman so being classified as Bisexual might be easiest though I'm leaning more towards Pansexual since I don't really care if someone is nonbinary, trans, genderfluid etc and I've met a few Sims who claim they're bisexual but won't date Trans sims, to each their own but why? If someone makes me happy and I them it seems perfect to me!
My traits are Adventurous, Music Lover, and Glutton. I think there used to be more like Socially Awkward and Vegetarian but my Watcher wasn't sure if @changingplumbob had the more traits mod so removed the last two
My current aspiration is to be a Master Maker
My likes and dislikes are below ↓ There's quite a few but My Watcher actually cut it down from what was there when I was a Teenager
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Am I OK with getting flirty with the other contestants? I'm here for Deanna but if any of the other contestants flirt with me I don't see a problem with it since we're not in committed relationships or anything.
Am I open to Polyamory? Maybe? It seems to be working fairly well for my cousin where monogamy hasn't been working for my mother - three kids from three separate failed marriages yikes! Maybe you shouldn't talk trash about El when you don't have even half as healthy of a love life. Sorry mom I know it's not proper to air your dirty laundry on national tumblrvision but oh well! Domenic raised me to think honesty is the best policy so . . .
Open to woohoo? I mean it's part of romance now a days so I'd be alright with it. I just won't let my brother tune in those days. Sorry Dom!
Am I open to flirting with Joey? I think I could be! Again I signed up for Dating Deanna and don't want to hurt her feelings but the heart wants what the heart wants I guess
My watcher is ALL IN!!!
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ewanmitchelll ¡ 4 months ago
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Imagine you were betrothed to Aemond Targaryen until circumstances impeded the match to concretize. Now, years later… will you and him be persuaded this is the right timing to amend things?
Warnings: drama, light smut. Long post.
***
• I
As the second child and oldest daughter of Lord Gwayne Hightower, you are privileged to be sent to your aunt’s household and there be raised as her royal ward.
Your Hightower charms do manage to captivate Queen Alicent at the time of your arrival—as well as King Viserys, by then very alive and in good health, who treats you as his own daughter. In the meantime you are settling at court, you ought to share the same apartments with your royal cousin, Princess Helaena, the first of your regal relatives to make your acquaintance.
“Greetings, Y/N. In green and black wheels, our fortune will gravely depend on it, I’m afraid. But you are a welcome addition to our misadjusted family.”
At first you do not understand the meaning of her words, however, your kindness speaks louder than reason so you flash her a smile—rather than pushing her away as so many have done before, which surprises the princess.
“Noble families are often troubled homes to be raised within, cousin. Every privilege comes with a price and aren’t we all willing to pay for it? Either way, thank you for receiving me. I hope you can find in me a friend to rely on.”
Initial distrusts put aside, Helaena nods her head. The idea of having a friend melts away her defenses and makes her smile to you.
“Do you like embroidery?”
“I fear I do not excel at it, but it is a pastime of mine”, you smile warmly.
“Very well. Come and follow my lead, I’d like your help to proceed with my work on it.”
“Gladly”.
And a bond is now forged.
*
Aemond watches as you walk almost arm in arm with Princess Helaena. You are dressing a green gown with long sleeves and your red hair falls loose behind your back. Some of the curls does in fact remind him of his mother.
But in secrecy the teenaged boy thinks you are prettier than the Queen.
“You should speak to her”, he struggles to hold back a sigh at the voice of Aegon. “Aren’t you doing your duty and welcoming her properly, brother? My, where are your manners?”
In order to avoid Aegon’s annoyance further, Aemond does in fact go after you. Like a shadow, he moves silently. Once spotting you at the gardens, he awaits for the best moment to get to you. With Helaena out of the sight, Aemond takes his chance.
“If the rumors are true, we are marrying when we reach age”, you turn around only to spot this long silver haired male who is likely the same age as you, counting three and ten summers.
You curtsy out of respect. Aemond nods his head in turn.
“Well, I wasn’t told of marriage prospects yet, but I would be lucky if this proves to be true”.
“Lucky? I lack my brother’s charms”, the boy chuckles in abhorrence. “Surely you must have met him.”
“I believe we have been introduced, yes. But I do not think he has any charms, if anything he’s an annoying prince”, you are pleased to find the Targaryen male chuckling. “And whom might you be, suitor of mine?”
Aemond does not admit at first, but you do strike him a positive impression, reminding him of the damsels he used to read about in chivalric novels.
“Lord Aemond Targaryen, Madame”, and here he does a proper bow.
“Cousin Aemond”, the way you break formalities so easily leaves him disconcerted. “What a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard about you.”
“Good things, one hopes.”
“Naturally so. Would you care to spend the rest of the day with Helaena and I?”
Aemond’s reason urges him to leave you, but his tongue decides otherwise.
“I believe I am free off my duties, so why not?”
*
Later that evening, one could not stay too far from the other. Aemond soon comes to find out how much you and him have in common. To his surprise you are very educated.
“I prefer the philosophers of the East”, you tell him. “They are deeper in thoughts and observations about life. The ancient ones, in the days of Old Valyria, left some good works.”
“How’d you reach out to it?”, asks the prince, impressed.
“Well, living nearby Old Town has some advantages”, you laugh quietly. “Daeron has helped me with it.”
Something about his younger brother doesn’t sit well with Aemond. A sensation close to jealousy comes uninvited. But the prince disguises it well, though.
“How’s he by the way? I barely remember him now. We’ve been apart for many years.”
“He’s doing great and he misses his siblings too”, you tell him. “It is very lonely the journey to become a maester. And yet… if I can say anything about your younger brother is that he possesses a very sensitive soul.”
“Hum. Probably he’d be a better companion than Aegon”, he chuckles low.
This twilight you two are pacing around the castle. For a pair of youth, it is striking to see both of you discussing philosophers, historians and all that is in between. Then as day turns into night and dinner is prepared, you are forced to part ways.
“Are you not coming to join us for dinner?”, you ask him expectedly.
Aemond isn’t sure how to react about the suddenly expectation he spots in your y/c eyes. He is left again disconcerted. A feeling he doesn’t appreciate at the same time he is found eager to please you.
Why? A voice asks him. But he refuses to find the answer.
“I will… just change my robes.”
Your lips spread in a large smile and it is a sight that warms his heart.
“Good. I’d like to see you there, my lord.”
“As you will, my lady.”
Hesitantly, one says farewell to the other in a very typical young manner—even though you and him shall meet within five and ten minutes.
*
You are very pleased to be told you are betrothed to Aemond. The sight of your delight, that you make no effort in disguise, is a good omen to all, and even the wayward prince is not immune to it.
“How can you be this content in becoming my wife?”, he asks you when you are found walking towards the yard where the prince is to be trained under the guidance of Ser Criston Cole. “I have no dragon to call mine own.”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”, and you list his virtues and why each one earned you fondness. “A dragon doesn’t make you any less, my dear Aemond.”
But he cannot find a way to answer you properly for Ser Criston has summoned him to practice. It does little good to his pride when perceiving your presence. Your beaming presence. You are there to support him in ways few of his family ever did.
He casts you a long gaze and you hold it, pleased with the subtle certainty that he feels what you feel too.
*
Nevertheless, it’s you who eventually feels like an outcast for not being one who claims a dragon. In this comes your dear Helaena, who says:
“High you may fly, but not to skies you will find your might.”
You cast her a long glance. For a while you don’t speak a word but then curiosity gets the best of you.
“What is the price?”
Helaena ponders whether she can trusts you with her dreams. Eventually though, she realizes you are far more trustworthy with them than most of her relatives ever cared to comprehend such.
“A price of blood, I fear.”
You nod. Casting a glance to the clouds that begin to wipe out the blue that painted bright skies, you speak:
“What’s there to come, cousin? What have the Gods spoken?”
Putting aside her embroidery, Helaena slides to your side. Then she gently takes your hand and holds it quickly, showing in her way her fondness to you.
“If you are inclined to follow your heart, patience you must nurture for a hard path lies forward to us all.”
You have nothing else to say, baffled by these prophetic words. Nonetheless, if Helaena is resigned to whatever destiny she sees, you opt to trust in her and take the heels of such advice. After all, you tend to wear your heart on your sleeve.
*
“Do you dance, cousin?”, this day you and him are set at Dragonstones to attend the funeral of Lady Laena Velaryon, wife to Prince Daemon Targaryen, who died in childbirth.
Aemond took you for a walk around the sands, misliking the whole ceremony. Now, as wind blows a cold breeze, he notices your red curls are made a mess, a victim of weather; a view of wilderness he most appreciates.
“Not if I can help”, says he with a serene countenance.
“Not even if one’s partner is… tolerable?”
“You trick me to your will, cousin”, and here he takes hold of your hand. And makes you twirl. “Are you pleased to remove my pride?”
“You cannot fault me for your own doings, Aemond”, and you wink at him before getting to start a race.
The prince rolls his eyes, but maybe acknowledges some truth in your word. As he starts to get after you, though, Aemond spots a large creature not too far from where both of you are.
For a moment he stops what he’s doing. For a moment, only a flying living old dragon could take his eyes off you.
Vhagar calls him, he knows.
But when you turn your head with your inviting smile, Aemond patiently leaves a new idea for later. Perhaps nothing is too dull in Dragonstone, after all.
An event that might drag both of you to a tragedy droll is set to happen, and who could foretell the consequences of an inconsequent choice?
***
• II
Old stones in old piles come to your eyes as the first rays in the morning come through the window glass and wake you up. You stare at that familiar wall, a witness of time, once the keeper of your safety… and now turned into golden cages.
You turn at your side of bed. It is a large, wooden made, very cozy indeed. But the warmth of your line blankets annoys you and you toss them aside. Impatience rises in your chest and before you know, your eyes are tearing up again.
I should have gotten used to it by now.
But can one easily accept the task of moving forward after getting to feel loved in the way professed by bards? You could still remember his laughters, his secret smile… the long days spent at library, sharing a lecture or when you opted to discuss about eastern old philosophy right at the dinner table, earning a quizzical glance of your royal aunt and an amused one of your regal uncle.
You miss his scent. You miss how unexpectedly he could be when pursuing your fingers and intertwining with his.
Years have gone by. You are not that mischievous, lively child anymore. You are now a damsel, whose prospective future is put on hold.
“Oh Aemond”, you move barefoot towards the window and opens it, suffocating, eager for some fresh air. As you do, you come across the sight of green hills and small villages not too far from the castle you spent your early childhood. No sign of clouds, nor even of… dragons.
One more day. Even now, your unending hopes are crushed. Again.
“You cannot forget your promise”, you whisper angrily in gritted teeth as if he’s somewhere unseen. “You told me you’d have my heart until you died, that you’d make me your wife. But you are very much alive! Oh, can the Gods be this cruel?”
When you close your eyes, you can still remember the last day you met. He had lost his eye and the two of you escaped to the sands where stars were the only witnesses of such daring move.
“Will you still be my wife after all of this happened?”
“I will”, you assured him firmly, your warm hand holding tightly his cold one. “How dare you consider I would ever leave you?”
Aemond chuckled. The sound of it was miserable to you. Could he be blamed for it, though? You comprehended him more than he’d know.
“I must say I have grown suspicious. Besides, an one eyed prince is not a charming prospective as a husband.”
“I object”, and here you force him to look at you, holding his chin gently with your right hand. “I will never forgive myself for not being there when those foolish, stupid kids did that to you. I would gladly take my heart out as proof of my unending loyalty to you.”
Aemond blushed. A weak, crimson shade of pink painted his pale cheeks. You didn’t know his thoughts, how could you? But they were about you and you alone.
“I could never doubt you, my lady Y/Nickname. Apologies if I misled you to believe so. I just… felt so unworthy of your affection.” Before he could hold his tongue, words were spitted out. “Do you love me?”
You too blushed underneath moonlight. You were frightened, but more so that he’d not correspond you. Even so, despite the uncertainty you felt, you risked speaking the truth.
“I do. I… love you, Aemond.”
Aemond blushed deeper, looking away for a moment. Then he turned at you, open mouthed, ready to give you his heart too… when a scowl was heard:
“Well well, it appears we found two besotted younglings prompted to do something only two besotted imprudent younglings intend to do.”
Uncle Daemon’s remark was enough to make one part of the other. Despite the mockery in his tone, used to impede either of you to notice he was in fact with Rhaenyra throughout the day, his words left its mark.
Ever since that day, though, you haven’t seen Aemond again.
*
Aemond stares at the moon, dancing alone in her majesty nightly reign. No stars are seen, no clouds are there to omit her from the mundane sight.
A cold breeze blows his silver locks, messing with his hair. The prince pays no mind to it. Today it is not about the looks nor about the power he is hungry to possess.
Having dismounted Vhagar, and already aware that many troubles lay ahead of him as soon as he walks through that door, Aemond’s thoughts that evening go towards you.
“I wish I told her I loved her”, he confided his whore. “Every night I dream of her face, her y/c eyes and red locks staring at me. Her sweet demeanor haunts me. Like a prey that has outwitted the hunter.”
“Is it how you perceive the object of your true affections, my prince? A prey that has not fallen the web of your traps?”
He remembers looking at the older woman quite offended.
“I said no such a thing. She is… unreachable now. Literally so, even in my dreams. Y/N is the embodiment of purity, whose virtues are endless. No words can do justice to the goodness she possesses.” He paused, melancholic somewhat. “It is just, methinks, that she’s out of my grasp now.”
“Have you considered writing for her?”, the maternal tone he never heard in his own mother seemed to smooth his broken heart at that moment, only to cover the pain these words gave him. “She never knew you loved her too. You have a dragon, Aemond. What’s there to stop you from purchasing her?”
“Duties.” Aemond’s embargoed voice broke out of his masked pride. “Duties are the death of love.”
Whatever happened in the past should remain so. As Aemond crosses the grand door and takes the stairs to get to the Council meeting, though, he cannot conceive that he failed you. For he never wrote to you again—despite all of these promises…
“There is my brother! Loyal like a hound”, Aegon’s voice is enough to make Aemond sweep away the agony he’s been through the day. “Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you.”
Aemond opts not to answer. He takes his seat and leaves the talking for the council. The Dowager Queen gives him a look, an inquiry one, but the prince avoids it.
“Well”, Otto finally begins the Council. “Apparently, Rhaenyra has not been sufficiently encouraged to make peace, so war it is.”
Aemond doesn’t like to remember that he’s partially the reason why conflict has turned inevitable. He’s still daunted by that monstrous image of Vhagar devouring the Velaryon boy.
He didn’t mean it. But what are intentions when it comes to war?
Perhaps it’s for the best that you’ve been taken away from me, Y/N.
Aemond never asked why you disappeared, but there was no need to. The Queen’s brother thought wise that you continued your education in Oldtown—perhaps more moved by Otto Hightower’s counsel, who was genuinely worried over you concerning the bluntness in Rhaenyra’s children—especially after what had happened to Aemond.
He reasonably accepted it, but he also resented it. Whatever it is, he doesn’t accept your absence. It makes no sense to him why you were withdrawn… and after what he’s done, anger and guilt consume him still.
Despite the angst in his thoughts, this is no time to self scourge. Aemond promptly participates in the council of war, listening to all and making acceptable suggestions here and there.
“Diplomacy failed”, says the prince before the king. “To war we must wage.”
The first steps to conquer allies and strength old alliances are thus shaped. Later, without Aemond’s acknowledgment, the idea to fortify Houses Targaryen & Hightower through marriage is returned.
“Perhaps we should have Daeron to bring Lady Y/N”, Otto contemplates.
“Is she going to be safe here?”, says Alicent, genuinely concerned. “If she comes over and falls in the enemies’s hands, Gwayne is not going to forgive me for this.”
“Gwayne knows what’s best for our family’s interest. Y/N is too precious to fall simply into Rhaenyra’s side. I’ll make sure of that.”
As the wheel turns, destiny is designed.
***
• III
Aemond is vibrating this day. He’s managed to collect great victories in the battles ahead all thanks to the strategies he traces with Aegon. Due to Rhaenyra’s incapacity of playing the game of thrones, both brothers seem to finally see eye to eye.
“It is for the best that we work together on this”, Aegon tells Aemond one of these days. “No one wants a safer realm than I do. I know you may judge me unfit for the throne I never wanted, but Aemond… we are family. May our differences be set aside for the sake of our cause.”
War is not a merely word drawn out of bards pens to mark the deeds of men and save for posterity their names. This is not about glory, but a conflict built over anguished, vicious souls, plagued by ambitious.
War is not fought alone, this Aemond knew it well. Aegon has his reasons to fear his younger brother, but he cannot be alone in such a time. They are already doomed for fighting a kin.
“Your cause is mine, Your Grace”, says Aemond, leaving his ambitions aside for the sake of the misadjusted family he’s born into. “To suggest otherwise is a treacherous, incommendable thought.”
“Good”, Aegon cannot conceal his relief. “I knew I could count on you.”
How odd it is to find peace in times of war.
Yet can it be called peace when Aemond is far from it? Plagued by old demons, he is in constant struggle to firm his steps. He cannot trust in anyone of his family, despite affirming his loyalty to Aegon.
But what else is there to be done? He has a role to play and this is no time to getaway of it.
*
Whilst the Seven Kingdoms bleed and burn, you remain safe at Old Town. Occupying yourself with books, embroidery and music have proved to be good to for your mind.
Indeed, Old Town is safe for you in many ways. You could still manage to take philosophy to your bed late night, you could still read how many books you want. You upheld many privileges being the son of Ser Gwayne.
You could dance merrily with Lord Daeron, but he reminded you often of Lord Aemond. And by the end of every night, you are forced to tell that he never loved you for he never bothered to write you.
We are at war, you tell yourself. Perhaps it’s for the best.
So you accept this is your fate. Maybe to remain unmarried, which is good—your library is still the safe haven you can go to, for you charmed the maesters there and no one can forbid you to touch untouchable books.
But is knowledge a good medication for a broken heart? You are yet to know.
“Daughter of mine”, your father’s voice startle you; for he is not expected. “I knew I’d find you reading at the gardens again. At times I think you have too much of the Tyrells in you”, says Ser Gwayne, alluding to his wife, Lady Margaery Tyrell, your mother.
You greet him like the devoted daughter that you are.
“What is there for me to do? Men sharp their blades and I sharp my brain.”
Ser Gwayne is proud for the intelligence you have developed. Had you been a son, he’d not been concerned over the matters of his succession.
“If only your brothers had the same concern. But your grandsire knows your worth is too high to be wasted around here.”
Your heart races, your mind accelerates, but your face remains unreadable.
“What is it you mean, dear papa?”
“What I mean is that you are going back to King’s Landing. Your mother protested against it, for you are our only daughter and these are perilous times to be sent to the capital”, by the way he sighs, you know Ser Gwayne agrees with his wife. “However, your grandsire has better plans for his favourite granddaughter. He wants to marry you off to Lord Aemond Targaryen. I don’t think the old man will rest until he tangles both houses into one same blood.”
He chuckles and you force yourself to join him in laughters. However, deep inside you feel weak, unwell even. How can this be? To marry him… the object of your childish desires, the man whom you opened your heart to…and yet never received any token in return.
“Is this certain? What’s with the rush?”, you hope you are disguising well your own atonement.
“It is, it’s been agreed at last. The late king lamented profoundly when you left the court, but in all honesty… I think you deserved better than a prince like Aemond”, and here your father pauses. “You must be aware of who he’s become. The war has started because of him.”
It is as if he’s expecting you to dissuade him of the idea, perhaps he wishes you to. You look away, finding an excuse to gaze at the flowers that colour the gardens.
True, you are more than aware of what he’s become. Some courtiers mock him, calling him a monstrous green in allusion of the Queen’s party against Rhaenyra’s, which is black. You have the sad news confirmed, albeit reluctantly, from Daeron’s mouth.
But this is not who he is, surely. He is proud, arrogant even, shielded in himself. Traits that you’ve become familiar with in girlhood. Traits that have not been righteous directed, turning him porcelain skin to iron.
Your reason conceives he’s not suited for the sensible woman you’ve grown to. Daeron would be a better fit and perhaps your father hopes you to admit that.
To Ser Gawayne’a sore disappointment, you’ve made up your mind. Your affection has deeper roots than he’d know, and it is firmly planted in you that all else cannot find place in your heart.
“I am not here to change anyone, my father. I take him as who he is.”
“Very well”, the lord sighs. “You’ll be sent with Lord Daeron, your cousin. He’ll fly with you to the capital in Tessarion.”
“I am not afraid of dragons, father.” You smile and lean to press a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
“If you are happy, then I am bound by honour to concede it to you, my daughter.”
The bells of liberty finally begin to ring.
***
• IV
Aemond has recently returned after smashing Rhaenys and Meleys. Victory is at last on his side and the prospectives are better. He’s been having an eye at Harrenhal though and he’s about to set his way there when he’s been summoned by his mother.
How strange. We’ve been barely speaking to. What, in Gods name, does she want?
What happens next is certainly getting out of his senses.
“Son”, she welcomes you with Helaena by his side. His sister is smiling in her own way,
Either something good is about to happen or I am about to fall on a trap. It is unusual to find contentment in Hel’s face.
“Mother”, he nods his head, keeping his guard high. “You summoned me.”
“I did. You may think I have forgotten that my son is to be wedded, but I have not.”
Aemond is discomforted. A dangerous topic that he learned to despise ever since you departed. But he keeps his expression neutral.
“I have no inclination to be married whatsoever.”
“I believe you may change your mind”, to his surprise it is Helaena who speaks. “We are bringing her back, Aemond.”
A shiver crosses his spine.
No. This cannot be.
“Her?”, he plays cynical.
“Yes. Lady Y/N is coming with your brother. It’s time for you to settle down, my dear child.”
Aemond feels a fuel of anger and resentment. Mostly because years separated you two, but the powerlessness of taking you back, to let you go.
Despite the confusion, nothing betrays his composed mask.
“I wasn’t consulted about this.”
“No one is hardly consulted where marriages are concerned”, Alicent laughs away. “Besides, I thought you liked her.”
Aemond doesn’t answer.
“Well, she’s coming soon. You better not disappoint.”
*
But he’s been anxious. Restless. No news of war can take his mind off you. He could have written about you, but his insecurities took the best of him.
When you departed, there was no warning. Neither was consulted about the matter, apparently. And yet…
A sound of dragon breaks the silence of the night. Aemond knows this is Daeron’s. And you are coming too. The prince leaves the yard and moves to the dragon’s pit.
He realizes a little too late that the whole family is there to welcome you. The prince opts to stay in the shadows, watching from a safe distance.
His good eye is mesmerized by how handsome you’ve grown into. Your hair is as red as he remembers; your curls, just as wild, a victim of wind. But you have curves now; your breasts are full and large, your hips giving a positive indicator of your fertility.
Your face… is just as divine as it was in his boyhood days. Your traces softened, and your lips still easily spread in a gentle smile.
You haven’t changed a thing, dear Y/N.
Aemond, troubled by the reminiscences of what has never been dissipated as he had hoped, quickly leaves. But for how long will he be able to avoid you?
*
You conceal the disappointment for not seeing him there to welcome you. But what could you expect when you two parted without saying goodbye?
“He’s coming soon”, Helaena tells you assuringly. “No need to worry, my cousin.”
“Oh, I am not worried. Not at all”, you smile as convincingly as possible.
But it’s difficult to keep your composure when he’s not present to attend the feast given on your behalf. The sound of music does not entertain your ears—it is as if Old Town’s tune was merrier. Or perhaps it all feels cold because he’s not there.
However, a distraction comes in the person of Daeron, to whom you’ve grown close in the days spent back home.
“Shall we dance, cousin? What a waste of beauty to stay here, away of the light.”
You chuckle lightly as you cede him your hand.
“Why, your flatter me with your poetic soul, Daeron. Let us dance then like the last time.”
In this moment, you don’t see him coming discreetly to take his place by his side. You miss his stare, his longing gaze following your steps. And yet… when you do meet his eyes, you take every control you have to act in a nonchalant manner.
Oh Aemond. How come years have gone by and you affect me so?
He’s now a handsome lad. Handsomer indeed than you’ve pictured him. Taller and serious, using an eyepatch to uncover the eye that was taken from him in that unfair circumstance you remember.
It feels impossible to reach out for you. Oh, Aemond. Please do not lock me outside.
Music ends after what it seems an eternity. There is no need to Daeron lead you back to your seat for this is a task Aemond takes himself.
“Lady Y/N Hightower”, the prince greets you formally and it hurts you to detect cold in his voice. You swallow back the tears and you remember to curtsy.
“My lord Prince”.
Aemond offers you his hand and he can tell that he affected you, perhaps not in the same way he wanted, for you hesitate before taking it. Cold and warm mix, like last time.
“May I lead you out of this spectacle?”
“If the king permits…”
“I do not think he cares.”
Silence hangs. You nod your head, afraid of bursting into tears right before the crowd. Perhaps your father has been right in protecting you. Who is this man you are now betrothed to?
For a while, undetected, the pair leaves the salon. It’s late by now and by this hour wine has had its effects. Somewhere close to yard is where Aemond stops walking. When you turn at him, he’s no longer cold.
“You left me, Y/N.”
Oh. Here it is. The subtle accusation. But it’s better than nothing, you tell yourself.
“I wasn’t told I would depart to Old Town, Aemond. I did not give my consent to it, but we both know how little power, if we have any at all, do we possess to command our destiny.”
Aemond avoids your gaze for a moment and you recollect his fragilities. You dare to shorten the distance and hold his hand. To your surprise, he does not shy away as your fingers lace.
“Do you honestly believe I left you because I wanted to? After all I told you?”
“What else could I have thought, Y/N?”
“You could have asked. You could have said anything.” And there they are: the puddle of water. “You never wrote me in these years!”
Aemond closes his eye, breathing heavily. Despite you trying to let go of his hand, he keeps holding yours firmly. Only then, you see pain in his eye when he opens it again.
“I was miserable when you left me alone in this world.”
“As if!”, you hiss. “You never cared for me!”
You turn away from him, instantly regretting for this decision to come up and try again. You’d think he’d leave you, but Aemond is no quitter.
“I love you, Y/N”, he pulls you against him one more time, this time closer than before. “I was stolen the chance to tell you that I love you! I fucking loved you! I could not find a replacement for the nest you made in my heart, nor could fix the hole you left in me!”
“Then why”, you sob, “didn’t you write?”
“Because”, he pauses, and here he lifts your chin after wiping away your tears, “I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of never being sufficiently enough for you. Hence why I figured that a better match was found to you. I thought…”, the prince chokes for a moment, struggling to hold back his own tears. “I thought you’d not love me anymore after I lost my eye.”
You cup his cheeks and make sure this time he looks at you.
“How dare you to nurture this thought? I have loved you since the first day I put my feet on this soil. I have known not other sentiment but the deepest shades of affection from the day you comforted me. I… I would never take anyone but Aemond Targaryen as my husband.”
A small smile tugs at his lips.
“I am unlovable, dear Y/N. Haven’t you heard what I’ve done?”
“No one is unlovable. I am not here to fix your wrongs, Aemond. I am here to help you make your rights.”
“You’re not leaving now.”
This is not a question. You smile.
“No. I am staying.”
Saying so, he leans forward and locks his lips with yours. You breathe in, dive into it.
He’s finally yours and you are finally his.
***
• V
You’d not think, nor Aemond, that the Gods amused themselves by testing the veracity of what one felt for the other. That the love surpassed years and obstacles is, some would say, an indication of divine favor.
But this is not what troubles your or his mind. When his lips are against yours, when his hands are locked with yours, when your legs are wrapped around his waist, when he is pleasing you… oh these past ghosts are long exorcized.
“I adore you”, he whispers against your ear, kissing your neck as he caresses your left breast. “Fuck, I am yours, eternally yours, Y/N.”
You moan loudly, singing out his name. Your hand is now against his hair, using the other to crave your nails into his skin, getting a groan out of his lips.
“My husband”, you bite his bottom lip. “I love you. Oh Gods! I cannot believe this is not a dream.”
“Not at all”, he smiles at you. “It’s you and me throughout time, dove.”
“No more whoring I pray”, you tease him, aware of his encounters with the woman of the brothel.
“I thought you knew that already. Never more.”
And saying so he dives into your neck, there staying until his eager mouth slips to your chest.
The synchronicity is so good that doesn’t take much time before you and him reach climax together.
“Mm, stay here”, you lock him with your legs. “Do not remove it out of me.”
Aemond laughs quietly as you smile, gently touching his face and his sapphire eye.
“Naughty uh?”
“We must compensate for the time wasted”, you tease him.
As he lies his head next to your shoulder, thus cuddling against you, you take the time to hold him tight, unwilling to break the spell. However, Aemond knows the inevitable must be said.
“We must discuss something, beloved. I am expected to take Harrenhal.”
Although you know this could not be postponed, you avoid his gaze and keep quiet for the moment. But Aemond knows you, and he sees the struggle in keeping yourself composed, the anxiety coming to your countenance.
He lifts his face and caresses your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.
“I told you I’ll love you until the day I die and I have no intention to leave you a widow so soon.”
“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you, but you understand you’ll face experienced warriors in there…”, and despite the efforts, fear comes to the speech.
“It may take a while, but I’ll beat those fools. I must do it for my brother’s sake.”
“Very well”, you know there is nothing you can do before his stubbornness… and his loyalty to the green cause.
“Y/N…”, he looks anxious now and you are surprised to find it in his features. “I cannot wage wars knowing you didn’t give me your blessing.”
You break to a soft smile, turning to his side and stroking his long face and hair.
“I consent, my husband. But do not dare to leave me alone in this world.”
“Never.”
To assure you he means it, he kisses you passionately. Not too soon after that, you and him burn the bed with the awake of long repressed desires one feels for the other.
***
• Epilogue
With the green victory uncontested, peace remains at long last. Despite the bad fame, Harrenhal is your new home and you are its new lady.
Whatever opposition you might find when your husband came to pick you up with Vhagar, none was left to resist the new residents.
Throughout the long reign of Aegon II the Wise and Good Queen Helaena, you provided Aemond a bunch of children to turn this gloomy castle into a merry and lousy household. These are:
1. Aerys and Rhaella, a pair of twins, who would keep the Targaryen tradition.
2. Rhaegar, raised in Oldtown—would marry a cousin Tyrell.
3. Visenya, many years later married to Maegor, third son of King Aegon & Queen Helaena.
4. Daena, would be married to Lord Brynden Tully of the Riverlands.
5. Baelor, would be raised as a squire at the capital and turned out to marry another child of Aegon & Helaena, a daughter they had named Alyssa. A coincidence of the fate? Who knew?
6. Maekar, later sent to become a Maester at the Citadel.
7. Aegon, later made lord of Summerhall. He’d take as wife his younger sister.
8. Alysanne, probably your favourite daughter—she’d grow to marry the brother she loved best, the lively and chivalric prince Aegon.
An ending very fitting for a love that was tested by time and won it over without much need of persuasion.
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olrinarts ¡ 24 days ago
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Ref Sheet and Background: Narinder
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long post ahoy! (i'm serious. do not click that read more unless you wanna scroll for a while, it's even longer than Esriaal's)
A note about AUs: All of my AUs can be considered to be within the same ‘universe-cloud’, for lack of a better word ('multiverse' has frustrating associations, alas. curse you mcu, lmao.) That doesn’t make them directly linked or in any way affect another AU, unless explicitly said to (see: constancy must transpose and chimes of bone in the at the root series.) Otherwise, each is a standalone AU, either diverging directly from the Base Lamb and Base Narinder’s story, or in some way reflecting/echoing it (see: ashes ashes, the yuri rock god AU.) Any completely unrelated AU to this universe-cloud will have it mentioned that it’s not connected.
Name/Titles: The One Who Waits, the One Below, Narinder Base Age: 86 (age he was Crowned, equivalent to around mid-30s developmentally) Gender: He/him Race: Cat, infernal
Background:
Narinder was born as the middle son of a common infernal cat, which were once as plentiful as their cousin race, the black cats. His family were farmers in a time when the Crowns were a relatively new development, a century or two after the first god was crowned. He was about as unremarkable a cat as can be imagined at the time, and could have been anyone. That was why both the Crown of Death and the kernel of what was someday meant to be the Crown of Life chose him: neither had any use for someone special and remarkable, who’d always be apart from the people around them by nature. If he was to be remarkable, it would be by what he accomplished.
A Crown can’t sit on two heads, of course, and normally a head can’t really wear two Crowns. As the Ivory Crown wasn’t crafted, but needed to be ‘grown’ due to being the Crown of Life, both the Red and Ivory Crown were able to coexist. Ivory was essentially slumbering in the unaware Narinder’s soul until its time came to wake up. He was chosen young, not even past his first century – infernal cats lived just as long as black cats, who can live over a millennia or more if they’re smart about it, though they reach adulthood at the same age as other cats (think Forneus still being around a thousand years after Narinder was cast down.) The Crowns made their choice in one of Narinder’s family fields, having sat down from harvesting rye with his scythe to rest beneath the shade of a beech tree. About as humble a beginning for a god as imaginable.
Narinder didn’t aspire to humility, however, let alone as the god of Death, so he built his cult quickly. It was a pretty compelling message, altogether – if everything ends in death, you might as well worship what’s coming, and having the favour of the god of death meant an easier passage through the river of souls to the afterlife. He was already beginning to chafe against the idea of the One Who Waits and the inherent stagnation, however, as well as other limitations. He particularly disliked how souls sacrificed to other gods didn’t come to him in death, as well as other practices that cut lives short needlessly, such as child sacrifice. He was fine with sacrifice in general, that was just how things worked, but there had to be some guardrails, because it was starting to damage mortal trust in all of the Crowned Gods’ care and guidance.
Despite common assumptions in the many millennia to come, it wasn’t War who first raised their hand against another god – it was Narinder, thoroughly pissed off about another god using mass sacrifices to taunt him with the souls that were stolen from him. After that god fell to his scythe, it became clear that the time of peaceful coexistence among the Crowned Gods was growing strained, to put it mildly.
That was when the god of Knowledge went to him, proposing an alliance: Narinder would join their pantheon as their brother, and the souls sacrificed in Shamura and Kallamar’s names would pass into his hands, same as the sacrifices in his own name. He was more than fine with that, feeling a kinship with both Shamura and Kallamar, and so their combined pantheon grew stronger, gaining first Heket and eventually Leshy, who was the last god to ever be crowned. War was eventually inevitable, becoming one of Shamura’s domains when they took on the role of general in a war of gods, and when the dust settled, only the five Bishops remained in the lands. They divided the lands between themselves, with one land to four of the Bishops and unconditional welcome for Narinder in each (as Death ‘belongs’ everywhere), and for a very long time, the Bishops remained at peace.
The longer it went on - the longer Narinder was locked as the One Who Waits - the more restless he became. Shamura, who he was closest to, pitied him for it. They were concerned about allowing the restlessness to continue to grow unchecked, unsure what a Crowned God rejecting his domain’s nature might do to the faith, and so they encouraged him to pursue knowledge, distracting his restlessness with curiosity. That was their first mistake, for all that they were Knowledge from the start:‌ they assumed his curiosity would distract from his appetite for change, that it was the lesser drive between curiosity and restlessness. They were wrong.
The more Narinder sought to know, the closer he became in nature to the mortals, to the Narinder he’d been when he was Crowned; to learn is to change. He grew to sympathise with the natural mortal instinct to fear the inevitable, the cage of death that no one could escape, including Death himself. It grew from sympathy to kinship as time passed – not in the same way the Bishops were kin, but in the sense of a leader rather than a ruler. Part of the group, not apart from it.
Finally, the idea that was to be his downfall occurred to him: if the mortal souls were his in death, then weren’t their souls his while they still lived? And if they were his, living and dead, then wasn’t it his decision whether they died at all – or even had to stay dead?
He was so proud when he first succeeded at resurrecting a mortal that the first person he told was Shamura, because of course it was. They were the one who’d let him grow in the first place, and for the first time since almost the beginning, he felt like he could breathe.
Shamura panicked. Internally, where he couldn’t see it, but they knew they were looking at something that was going to overturn all of their careful plans and comfortable position as the leader of the Bishops, and so they began to put new plans in motion.
Narinder’s growing discontent over the millennia had soured his relationships with his siblings, growing even further apart as he grew closer to the mortals. Other than Shamura, he was mainly friendly with Leshy, but Leshy had no patience or interest in schemes other than the chaos it could cause. Kallamar had long been terrified of him, of the power of Death in the hands of a god growing more bitter by the century. And Narinder and Heket had never gotten along all that well – a mutual dislike born from natures that were entirely too similar.
Hoping to buy themselves time, the other Bishops began to keep souls from him, unmaking them for extra power instead of letting them pass on, especially as Narinder’s new gospel began to spread. By the time he realised this and confronted his siblings, enraged by the betrayal of the ancient deal, Shamura was ready. They gave him one chance to forsake the heresy he’d been preaching, and the Bishops would return to the deal. He rejected the offer, far too angry to even consider it, and if he had, he would have rejected it anyway. They were the ones who’d betrayed him first.
When he refused to forsake his new power, Shamura and the other Bishops cast him Below in chains. Shamura was the only one who knew that it would take Godly matter to chain Death, so they chose to allow him to maim the other Bishops and themself as they do in canon, ensuring the others would only blame him for what had happened. As he was cast down, Shamura cast down the two kittens that would grow to be Aym and Baal with him as well.
What followed was a thousand years of plotting and planning, taking vessel after vessel, because the Bishops foolishly thought he had no power over Death in chains, and no longer unmade the souls they sacrificed in their own names (doing so grants more power, but it’s also much more taxing and fairly gruesome, so it damages their faith base.) Some vessels worked better than others, but Narinder was the One Who Waits, and that had guaranteed his patience could be both furious and eternal at the same time. He would be free, no matter how long it took, no matter how many tries. There would come a day where he finally had the soul he needed, and he wouldn’t find them by doing nothing. So long as he had the Red Crown, he was still Death, and he wasn’t helpless.
Eventually, a prophecy was made:‌ that from the sheep led to slaughter would rise a sacrificial lamb who would be his liberator. He’d been patient, and this was his reward. It took another few decades, which itself inspired a slow, simmering anger over the fate of the sheep; even nearly a thousand years of bitterness and plans for revenge hadn’t withered that old Narinder, and he could only grit his teeth as his siblings committed a genocide that grew crueller by the year. The idea that an entire race was doomed just to spite him was infuriating. It was an unfated prophecy – whoever was the last sheep standing would be his – and so he couldn’t even know what soul he should plan for. This is where the diverging AUs begin.
It did ultimately come to pass, the Sacrificial Lamb’s soul landing in his hands, and he knew the brave little thing had defied his siblings’ hunters for over a decade since the last other sheep died. When he put them back into a living body, things didn’t connect quite right in their head, but they still looked up at him with such fearlessness that all of his anger and hope turned to sentiment. (Diverging AU: untitled politific, where they don’t lose their memory, though he’s not aware of that.)
Instead of just commanding them, he made it an offer (not one they could refuse, but still, even phrasing it differently is a hell of a concession from a god.) He chose to tell them of the sacrifice at the end, again from that sense of sentiment, but mostly because he could tell they weren’t just going to agree to be his vessel, they were doing it wholeheartedly.
From there the events of the game progressed, over the span of around one hundred and twenty years. He saw them as often as possible, after a death or a crusade, and kept them Below to spend time with them for as long as was feasible. As the decades wore on, he grew increasingly unhappy at the knowledge that he was going to be the one to unmake them, and told himself it was just a mild regret over it all, because acknowledging how much he’d come to dread his own freedom was more dangerous than just about any other possible reaction.
One of two things then happens, after the demise of Shamura: either the Lamb fights Narinder and wins (primary AU: ‘constancy must transpose’, resulting in Narinder with the Ivory Crown) or the sacrifice is successfully carried out (diverging AU: ‘chimes of bone’, where Narinder keeps the Red Crown.)
‘Base’ Narinder The above is almost always true in its entirety from fic to fic, though weight might be given to some events over others, or his emotional responses might be different and explored from there. Exceptions are made for reflection AUs (such as ashes ashes, which takes place in a world where the Bishops were never crowned in the first place.) If a reflection AU is different enough, such as a different world setting entirely, then specific things are adjusted or find equivalents, but there’s always strong parallels, and the basic facts of Narinder’s identity are unchanged.
There’s no story to go along with the Base Narinder after the end game on purpose. The closest to a ‘base’ canon for him is the world of the comic fittings, as that one is largely nondescript about the actual way Narinder and the Lamb/Esriaal came to be in the position of Narinder as a more-or-less mortal as part of the cult and Esriaal as the Red Crown’s bearer. It focusses almost exclusively on the culture of the sheep (and some of Narinder’s base backstory, as well.)
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eretzyisrael ¡ 7 months ago
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Today is Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Remembrance Day. This week’s very special Thursday Hero was submitted by Edward Baral, a member of our Accidental Talmudist community.
Here is his story:
"In 1943, my grandmother Franka Baral escaped from Plazow concentration camp near Krakow, Poland. She made her way overland to Budapest with my father (aged 8), his brother and sister and three young cousins.
"In Budapest, they lived hand to mouth and were quickly running out of options. My father stood alone on a street corner and began to cry. A Hungarian woman named Ilona Nemes asked him what was wrong and he bawled (at considerable risk but he was just a kid) that he was hungry and homeless.
"Ilona took all seven desperate Jews to her apartment and hid them. As life in Budapest became more dangerous, Ilona transported the Jews in small groups to her parents’ farm near Nhiregyhaza. She passed them off as Catholic refugees from Poland (they did not speak any Hungarian).
"Franka and the six young children lived in relative safety until the Russians came a year later.
"Ten years ago, I found some letters between my grandmother and Ilona from 1965-66 but there appeared to be no later contact. After a decade of searching, I finally found Ilona’s granddaughter still living in Budapest last year.
"Ilona’s granddaughter and her family speak no English, but thanks to Google translate, Facebook, and the help of another caring Hungarian woman named Ilona, we were able to connect. When they sent me a photo of Ilona Nemes on the farm with my family in 1944, I got goosebumps.
"We arranged for Ilona’s granddaughter to receive her grandmother’s Righteous Among the Nations award [given by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem to non-Jews who risked their lives to save Jews.]
"We believe that Ilona saved other Jews as well, but the full story of her incredible bravery may never be known.”
For her huge heart and tremendous courage in saving seven Jews - including six children - we honor Ilona Nemes as this week’s Thursday Hero.
Thank you to Edward Baral for introducing us to this remarkable woman.
Source: facebook.com
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