#sorry I've completely forgotten where I was going with this

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Honestly I want Gregory, Freddy, Cassie, Roxy, Monty, and Chica to sit down and have a civilized discussion about what went down in the games and come to a consensus about their viewpoints. Logically Freddy learns that no the scams are not to get money for fixing the animatronics Casey's dad had to do it on his own time.

I would love if they could have an actual conversation but I feel like it would descend into someone shouting and screaming within like... ten minutes and I think the biggest offender would be Chica, mostly because Roxy and Monty are trying really hard and she's just. Not. She didn't think she'd have to try not to chew someone's head off, okay? She was unprepared! She got angrier than anticipated! Lmao rip Freddy probably. He's never seen Roxy and Monty being the ones to hold someone back before, normally it's those two that need holding back...

Oh but then again, Cassie is in the room. If Gregory and Cassie are both in the room, it would probably force the conversation to stay very tense, but not to the point they're yelling. This is probably a situation where they'd get Sunny, Moon and DJ to watch them while they have their conversation, ya know? Maybe Sunny is the mediator for those two in a separate conversation while the others have their own conversation elsewhere with DJ as the mediator...

Honestly, if you were gonna sit all the animatronics down to have a civil conversation about everything that happened, it would probably have to be after Freddy had managed to clear the air with everyone else on their own. All the parts would have to be given back I think and he'd have to put effort in to at least get everyone to give him a chance to explain, something that would be much easier for some to do than others. Would depend on how everyone feels and how much time has passed I think. Roxy would probably be the hardest to convince given she didn't like him anyway and Freddy doesn't know her well enough to really know where to start with her... And may not even want to make amends with her given their history.

Which now that I thnk about it, would impact at least a few of the others. If they're gonna work through this, Roxy's gonna have to be on board with it at least a little bit, so if he's made no attempts to talk to her well... yeah that's not gonna go great. It's no dog left behind here.

I love the idea that Freddy has put considerable thought into what all the questionable Fazbear business practices are for and jumped through so many optimistic mental hoops in order to come to the conclusion it was to keep them all in working order. Maybe that's just what the managers have told him over the years, maybe that's just how he interpreted the whole "more money means a more stable future" thing or whatever I dunno.

Though... Freddy seems to like the scam practices? He says Fazcams are usually confiscated in Gator Golf because they're only sold in Gator Golf and then goes on to say it's a very clever marketing plan. It just makes me wonder how many of these he doesn't think much deeper than "oh that's clever. I bet that gets a lot of money." over lmao

I went to check the voicelines on that one so I don't remember what my point was, but it'd be interesting if he assumed more money means more parts for maitenance despite being given no indication that's even remotely true

[psychoticallytrans]

A surprisingly helpful bit of social maneuvering I've figured out from trial and error: Throughout your life, you are going to need things from people. Often, it's going to be on a deadline. And when that deadline passes, you generally want to know what's going on. So, you need to ask them.

There are two kinds of people, broadly, in this situation. The Shameless will tell you what the holdup is, with absolutely no regard for if the reason is "good enough". This is actually very helpful, because you get the real reason immediately, and can start working on a solution.

The Ashamed is trickier. People who are Ashamed are people who were often told they were giving excuses when they were trying to explain, and they'll often avoid you until they solve the problem on their own. This causes them and you a lot of stress, and often takes a lot longer to solve.

Long term, the strategy for dealing with people who are Ashamed is to provide a supportive environment where they're comfortable sharing any problems they're having with getting things done. But, there's a way to at least partially short-circuit that:

Provide an explanation for them.

One example might be "Hey Susan, I noticed that I don't have your report yet. Are you busy with other projects?" The readymade explanation signals that you're willing to accept an explanation, which is the big anxiety point.

Sometimes, you still won't get an honest answer- especially if the honest answer isn't "good enough" by the standards of the person who traumatized them. But, I've found that it often at least gets you a lie that lets you give them some slack or work around the problem.

Let's say that Susan has actually completely forgotten that she needed to do the report. She's horrified at herself, and completely unwilling to admit the real problem. But, she can now safely reply with "Sorry Jennifer, I've been swamped, and it got lost in the mix. I can have it to you in two days. Does that work?"

From there, so long as Susan gave an estimate for when she can actually do it, she and Jennifer can hash out a solution.

It's not a perfect solution, but it works astonishingly well for how small of a change it is.

[islandofsages]

HEYY!! I love your writing from what i've read and i was wondering if i could ask for a gn reader (yuu) teaching the housewardens about like classic fandom lore- like imagine them turning into matpat to explain fnaf and undertale!! 😭😭 feel free to not do this and have a good day!! Thanks :D

characters: housewardens x gn!yuu

tags: platonic, fluff, crack kinda, imagines format

warnings: swearing

author's notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG also all the fandoms mentioned here are all fandoms ive been in at some point :D fun times mhm

Riddle Rosehearts

He knows you’re very passionate about fandom culture but you never really had the chance to infodump about it to him

Until one day, you drop by Heartslabyul for a leisurely visit, when you see a not-so-clearly distressed Riddle sitting in the lounge

Not-so-clearly meaning he’s holding a teacup in his hand yet not drinking it, eyes closed as if he’s holding in all his emotions

You grow worried at this sight and slide next to him on the couch where he is seated, hoping you can help alleviate some of that stress

He sees you and he allows himself a sigh, then musters up a smile for you. He greets you and you cut straight to the point - can you help him with anything?

He releases a second sigh and shakes his head, telling you he only needs some sort of distraction. He just had a long day and needs to take his mind off things

You take a second to think of things that you can distract him with – that’s when a lightbulb goes off in your head. This is a prime opportunity for you

“Okay, I’m guessing you haven’t heard of Five Nights at Freddy’s since it’s a franchise from my world and all but the lore is crazy. So it starts like this…”

He wasn’t expecting to be paying much attention to the contents of what you’re saying but sooner or later, he ends up leaning towards you with his hand cupping his chin, mouth slightly agape at the story you’re telling

This inspires you to dump even more information about the media somehow at the rate that you’re going

By the end of it, he’s completely forgotten what he was so worried about. His head is full of creepy pizzerias for kids and haunted animatronics

He ends up having some trouble sleeping that night though. He’ll get you for that later.

Leona Kingscholar

He won’t lie, your interest in fandoms is too reminiscent of Idia for him – he doesn’t admit this to you obviously, since he hasn’t had the chance to

But on one particularly boring day, you decide to skip class with him and he lets you tag along for the hell of it

In the span of three seconds, he’s already off in dreamland. Sometimes you wish you had such a skill

Since you have nothing better to do and he’s way too deep in his sleep to even care anyway, you start rambling to yourself and a slumbering Leona

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about Undertale lately so I need to dump it all somewhere. So basically you play as this kid…”

Little do you know halfway through his nap, he wakes up from how much you’re talking. At first, he’s annoyed by your yapping but then he grows interest in what you’re saying

He’s almost tempted to try that game for himself and almost disappointed that it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland. Emphasis on almost.

When you’re done rambling, that’s when he stretches his arms over his head and yawn, commenting how noisy you were

You shrug it off. You're used to him complaining about you yapping instead of napping alongside him

…But then he asks you to tell him more about Undertale, if there's any more information you’re keeping from him out of the kindness of your heart

You smile smugly at this and his expression seems to say “don't make me regret asking” but oh, you definitely will make him regret even being friends with you in the first place

Needless to say, regrets were not the only thing he held at the end of that day.

Azul Ashengrotto

Similar to Leona, your fixation on fandom culture reminds him too much of Idia. not that that’s necessarily a bad thing - it’s more of an observation

And he gets more than an observation when you get the chance to show him what you’re made of: useless fandom culture and gaming knowledge

Speaking of Idia, he goes to you as a last resort to ask you to help him understand whatever the hell Idia’s talking about

You don’t know too much about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture just yet but when Azul explains the premise of a certain game and its fandom, it gives you an idea

“Sounds pretty similar to Yandere Simulator. Ooh, that one has a lot of history. Let me tell you about it…”

Unfortunately for him, he ended up unlocking your geekiness instead of having you address the things he was confused with

But at least your story makes it a bit easier to understand? He’s yet to decide that really but at least it sounds like you’re taking his lack of slang knowledge into consideration

Your infodump really gripped his attention though - it’s interesting to know another side of human culture, even if it’s not the humans of Twisted Wonderland

He would nod understandingly (or at least, politely) and thank you and your geekiness

He relays your story to Idia and finds it intriguing how similar fandom culture is in both Twisted Wonderland and your world

He would invite you to Board Game Club meetings so that you can rave and find out more about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture with Idia

He’d realize that was a big mistake and he may or may not have created the nerdiest pair in the world - but you guys are his nerdiest pair in the world.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s very curious about fandom culture - he doesn’t know too much about it nor anyone who knows a lot about it so almost all the fandom information in his head are from you

He really wants to know more!!! So of course that warrants a hangout session fabricated as a study session to get Jamil’s stamp of approval

So there you are in his room, books laid out in front of the two of you but most importantly, a laptop

You two watch about a dozen videos on Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture and as you absorb all the very-much-useful information, you sneak in tidbits from the culture of your world

“This one in particular is reminiscent of Danganronpa. Man, that one was a wild ride…”

It’s exciting to be able to talk about it with someone you trust wholeheartedly, especially Kalim, whom you know wouldn’t be so judging

He only nods in understanding at every point you made, his eyes sparkling with all the curiosity in his body

You were on your thirteenth video when you two are interrupted by a rap on the door and an unfortunately-familiar voice

So obviously you and your bestie hurriedly rush to close all the tabs on your laptop and open up something more academically-inclined

Which is obviously a…dictionary site

Jamil blinks twice at this, says nothing (but probably noting how it makes sense for you guys since you two are bumbling idiots) and walks away

If there’s any dictionary being read that day, it’d be a dictionary of fandom terminology, that’s for sure.

Vil Schoenheit

He doesn’t know too much about it - and doesn’t bother to learn much about it since he has better things to do - but since it’s you, he tries his best to be a good listener

The two of you sit down in the courtyard one day, the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves music to your ears; beauty truly is everywhere around you when you’re next to him

He’s talking about something. You’re not sure what because you’re entranced by the way his hair hangs above his eyes so elegantly. He notices this and calls you out for it

You shrug and excuse how you can’t help it - he’s like a dating simulator love interest in the real. He asks you what you mean by this. Now’s your chance to shine!

“Hmm, you know, something like Mystic Messenger? Hehe, let me tell you a bit about it…”

Unluckily for him, your “a bit” turns out to be a four-hour long ramble about the aforementioned dating simulator a little too reminiscent of Rook for his liking too

Despite his reservations, he really did enjoy hearing you talk so passionately about your interest; it’s a bonus that the topic itself is interesting

He tells you he wouldn’t mind trying out the game or at least finding out more about it though unfortunately it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland

You share his shame - until he says he’ll pitch the concept of the game to some authorities he know and perhaps make it a reality

Sorry, he’s going to what now?

You’re a little shaken. Sometimes you forget he’s a world-class model, despite his looks and mannerisms. You save your nerves for if a Twisted Wonderland version of Mystic Messenger actually ends up happening

He thanks you for enlightening him about fandom and video gaming culture. You use this as a cue to add another four hours of ranting about V’s route in the game.

Idia Shroud

You’re another victim for him to taint… or so he thought. You’re more of an ally than a victim at this point, considering how nerdy you are

He’d dump fandom lore on you and you’d reciprocate it right back. He’s genuinely so impressed with your knowledge, even if they differ by some degree due to being from different worlds

He gets more impressed when you pull up with knowledge about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture like damn, you really brushed up on your talking points already

Friendly rivalry aside, he really does enjoy talking about fandom culture with you and hearing about the things from your world - every story you tell adds a little color into his world

One day, the two of you are leaning on each other, on your phones because of course you are, even if you two are friends, talking still isn’t Idia’s strong suit

That’s when you blurt it out–

“Hey, wanna hear about this game called Persona? It’s a turn-based RPG and…”

Regardless of his response to your question, you ended up babbling away either way. It’s how conversations start between the two of you

You’re speaking so fast, he would have mistaken you for a rapper - or a doppelganger of himself even

Consider him entertained - he finds himself smiling by the end of your yapping and intrigued by your story

He then obviously starts to relate it to something from Twisted Wonderland, passing the listener baton to you

You don’t mind – you can stay there for hours and hours, just going back and forth with your fellow nerdy-ass friend.

Malleus Draconia

This man barely knows how to use a smartphone so you had to be a little patient with him when guiding him through the fandom culture trenches

He’s happy that you trust and cherish him enough to talk about your interests with no reservations or shame – and the feeling is mutual

On a certain weekend, the two of you are hanging out as usual. Chatting as friends would do

You don’t know why but the conversation reminded you of a certain fandom

“It’s kinda like Genshin’s community, I guess. They’re a riot, let me tell you that.”

Oh? What’s a Genshin and why is its community a riot?

You’re glad he asked – because you’ve prepared a 100-slide presentation on the history of the game and its fans

He asks you why and how did you find the time to make that. You tell him to shut up and that it doesn’t matter, he just needs to listen to you

You start and it feels like you’ll never stop – there’s just so much to say and Malleus has so much time in the world

Seeing his reactions to certain events makes you crack up and at times, you’d laugh at his shocked expressions (or sigh exhaustively, depending on the event you’re explaining)

When you finally stop, he gives you a one-man standing ovation. You blush a little at the attention and unexpected reaction but you appreciate his sentiment nonetheless. He tells you that your presentation has been very informative for him

You’re relieved to have been able to get that off your chest… and Malleus is more than ecstatic to relay the information to everyone he’s ever known. You obviously pretend that you had no involvement in his sudden investment of a game from another world.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Hii i love ur work i was wondering if u could do an angst story when ur the fem 9th member and jyp adds another fem member and they start ignoring you yelling at u and acting harsh and only one member is by ur side all the time

Replaceable

-9th skz

Warning: yelling, panic attacks, harsh tones, angst

Pairing: I.N x 9th member

Summary: a new member joins your group and it seems everything starts crashing down when you realize your being slowly replaced.

!not proofread!

Hey thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this short story lol! Have a good day 🩷

**

"Chan? I don't know where you are but I've been outside. Waiting. You promised to pick me up remember? Just text me or call me when you get this." I send the voicemail and let out a frustrated sigh. Had he forgotten to pick you up again? This was starting to become really annoying.

The last time he forgot because apparently the new girl, Haneul, needed help recoding something for the album. I let it go because it was the album after all and I want what's best for the team. But this time I had no idea why he wasn't texting or picking up.

The sky starts to drizzle and I let out a sigh. Slowly starting the walk home. I knew I was going to be soaking wet when I arrive at the dorms so I just put my phone in my bag to avoid it from getting spoilt.

The past few weeks, the schedule was really busy especially now that their was a 10th member. Everyone was trying to make her feel like home even offering her MY room as I took the couch until we were transferred to our new dorm. It was frustrating because now everyone's attention was on her and the fact that the boys were excited for a girl joining got me thinking that maybe they were tired of me.

The rain was pouring heavy now and my tears were too. Last week Han forgot to practice with you because he was with Haneul teaching her the rap part for the new song. Last week Felix forgot that you were making brownies with him and decided to do it with Haneul instead. Last week Changbin double booked his schedule with the recording studio and told me to come at a later date because Haneul needed more attention. LAST week Leeknow took her to the new game park when he had promised me to go with.

Haneul was slowly getting me replaced. The less I talked the more nobody would notice me.

My phone vibrates and I quickly pull out my phone.

"H-hello?" I say into it while snifling.

"Y/nie? Love? Are you there? What's all that noise?" I hear I.N's voice booming through the phone obviously panicking.

"I'm walking home." I sadly say looking at the puddles that had completely got my shoes wet.

"But it's raining dogs and cats outside! Yah! You're going to get sick."

"Chan forgot to pick me up again but it's okay I'm like 2 minutes away from the house."

"Oh baby. Let me make you some hot chocolate and run you a bath."

"You don't have to babe-"

"No I will! Now hurry along please. I want you home safe."

I say a little bye before rushing to get home.

My shoes let out squishy sounds against the hard wood floor as I make my way through the house.

"Where's Chan?" I glare at Changbin who's walking to the kitchen.

He stops and his eyes go wide when he finally sees me. "Oh my God. What happened babydoll?" He gasps at the state I'm in.

"Where. Is. Chan?" I ask one more time. Angry wasn’t even the word that could explain the emotion I felt at the moment.

"His in the studio-"

I walk past him and charge at the studio where I open the door to find him with Haneul laughing at something.

Was he being Foreal right now?

"Chan how could you?!" I say hurt at him causing him to jump and look up at me.

"Y/n? Oh my God what happened to you? Why are you soaking wet-"

"You fucking forgot to pick me up from schedules Where were you huh? Huh?" I frown and glare at him.

He looks panicked as he picks up his phone to check his reminders but his eyes open wide in realization.

"Oh my God- y/nie I'm so sorry. Haneul-"

“It’s okay,” I say not even bothering to fight with him. It wasn’t worth it. It was tiring.

"What’s going on guys?" Leeknow says coming into the room confused.

“Yah! Y/n your getting the whole house wet with your clothes? What’s your problem?” He scolds me.

“I had to walk through the rain and you don’t even care, no need to yell at me.”

The boys all start piling up into the room trying to figure out what the matter was.

"Y/n! Your wet!" Han exclaims

“Yes I think I get the point people!” I groan and shiver as the cold air hits my body.

“Y/n go get change please, now I have to clean up your mess,” Leeknow’s tone is harsh. I can hear it with a tint of frustration.

“Jeez Leeknow you won’t even bother to ask if I’m okay?” I roll my eyes trying to avoid the tears that threatened to fall down my cheeks once again.

He just dismisses me with his hand and walks out the room to do whatever he had too.

“Anyways, Haneul do you still wanna watch riverdale later?” My neck snaps at the direction that Hyunjin stood. Did he just say riverdale?

“Yeah yeah, I hope it’s not too much work but I was wondering if we could also make those little friendship bracelets-“

“Hyunjin did you just say riverdale? That’s our show,” my voice is now soft and quivering. Why would he watch our show with her.

“Y/n don’t be selfish, she’s just watching season one. It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t care. He didn’t care at all.

“We can alwyaks watch another series Hyunjin I don’t mind really-“

“Nah Y/n will be okay she’s just being dramatic like always,”

My breathing started to pick up. I couldn’t hold in the tears anymore. I was cold, tired, hungry and emotional. The sob that left my lips represented all that.

Chan’s eyes go wide when he notices the distress I’m in. “Hey, why are you crying? Are you okay?”

I don’t even bother to answer and just walk past the boys that stood by the door looking confused and worried.

“What’s the matter Y/n? Is it because of riverdale? Please don’t tell me you’re crying over that!” Hyunjin says as his hand grabs mine.

“You guys treat me like such a bother ever since she got here. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. I’m I boring to you guys now? All of you have been mean or pushing me aside for her. I don’t even ask for much but to have my friends back. If you don’t want me in the group anymore just tell me.”

I’m a mess, I’m a mess. I free myself from his grip before walking up the stairs where I run into I.N. He gives me a smile and realizes the state I’m in. His smile drops.

“Hey- woah woah woah, what’s wrong?” He asks but he was the only one that knew the current position I was in. I had told him the day he saw Chan snap at me when we were learning a new choreography and I had messed up.

“I’m- I’m just tired.” I cry as he automatically pulls me into his arms.

“Don’t cry hmmm. It’s okay I’ve got you okay? Let’s go upstairs and get you showered and changed. Then we can talk about it okay?” He whispers in my ear and I just nod in response.

He pulls me up the stairs and into my room where I find my pajamas laid out and some candles lit. The bathroom was running.

He slowly undresses me and guides me into the bathroom where I sit in the hot bathtub.

“Join me?” I ask well basically whimper. Craving his touch.

He chuckles. “Yeah sure my love. You miss me hm?”

“Yeah,” I softly say before blushing.

He gets undressed and gets into the tab. He leans back as I sit in between his legs. My body slowly meting into his.

He leaves tiny kisses on my naked shoulders while slowly massaging my neck. I find my body relaxing and slowly shutting down.

“Hey do you wanna talk about it now?”

“Mmm, it’s just that Everbody’s been acting so different towards me eve since she joined, I told you this last time but now it’s worse. Sometimes they don’t even acknowledge my existence.” I sigh feeling the sadness start to rise again.

“Baby, I told you last time to talk to them about it. What happened?”

“I don’t know I geuss, I geuss I just don’t want to make them feel like they’re picking.”

“But it’s your feelings that matter

**

LMAO THIS IS LIKE ONE OF THE FIRST STORIES I TRIED TO DO, SHOULD I DROP IT?😭

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | Sequel

[Part 1]

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, anxiety, Reader has a child, grief, fluff, pregnancy, not proofread. 

Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

Words count : 9150

Author's note : Hello everyone!! Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy, but here's part two of Reunion (or at least the first part two, let's call it part 2.1 hehe). Thank you again for all you kind comments and the love you've given my fanfic omg!! Spoiler alert: this is the happy alternate ending! But I've got another bittersweet alternative ending planned 😈 If you think the first part was good enough on its own and the sequel may break the vibe, don't force yourself to read!! But if you need a happy ending, here it is <3 The plot still doesn't make any sense, but hey, we're here to have fun so enjoy ❤️

English is still not my first (or second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes <3

When you wake up, the first thing you feel is the reassuring embrace of his arms around you. You don't want to move, not even when the sunlight tickles your face through the opening between the wooden shutters, trying to make the moment last endlessly. But the growing anxiety in your stomach chases away the illusion of your fleeting happiness. 

You close your eyes a little tighter. Perhaps if you try again, perhaps if you try harder, the world around you can fade away.

Perhaps you can wake up again, in a different reality.

But it's inevitable. You know that now you're awake, it's only a matter of time before the two of you have to say goodbye forever. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you have to fight the tingling sensation at the corners of your eyes.

Why have the gods decided to be so cruel to you? They grant you one last taste of his skin on your lips before taking it from you, again. 

Haven't you given enough? 

Could they not show you mercy? 

You who had forgotten him, you who had begun to turn a new page, to seek comfort in the arms of the cold, far away from the fire and the ashes, why did you have to touch the poison that would once again stain your soul?

Behind you, Aemond buries his long nose in your hair. His hand absently caresses the skin of your thigh, just where the edge of the linen tunic you put on sometime during the night when you were cold ends. The fabric is pulled up, revealing the outline of your bottom, and you can already feel your uncle hardening between his thighs, but you don't move.

If you move, you'll make everything more real. Tangible.

You'll speed up the process of losing him, of him slipping through your fingers. 

How can you let him go, now that your heart is full again, now that you feel complete in a way you haven't felt for over three years?

How can you let him go, now that your body has retrieve the extension of itself in the arms of the man who was the cause of your torment, your moments of joy, your pain and, paradoxically, your happiness?

"I know you're awake."

You hold your breath and Aemond inhales into your hair. His hand moves down the inside of your thigh, along the hollow that joins it to your groin. He doesn't venture any further. 

His thumb rests there and brushes your skin, trying to arouse the desire in you with gentleness.

Subtly.

 He doesn't want to hurry, he doesn't want to rush you.

Not when he's been harbouring the impossible fantasy of waking up with you in his arms since the day he nearly died.

He presses harder against you, as if he doesn't want to let you go, as if he wants to be one with you again, and you feel him pulsing against your buttocks, under the linen cloth that has been pulled up a little higher. He says nothing, but he is pleading, needy, in his gestures, which is rare for him.

Something has changed, after all, and perhaps something has changed in him too. 

"I am awake, indeed, " you whisper in a voice that is still half asleep. The lump in your throat betrays the feeling of anxiety gradually creeping into your body, and Aemond seems to notice. Under your tunic, his hand moves up along your belly until it nestles against your chest, close to your heart. His thumb draws small circles, once again trying to bring you back to him.

Trying to calm your mind.

"Let us forget for a little longer," he whispers, his clenched jaw resting over your head. "Please." 

And you know he never begs. 

Aemond takes and doesn't ask.

Aemond believes he is owed everything and never gives in return.

Hearing him beg breaks something inside you, because this is the first time he does so.

Usually it was you, it was always you, begging for peace, begging for more, begging him not to leave you.

Part of him is as desperate as you are; part of him also dreads the moment when you will have to part again. Forever. It's comforting to know that his feelings are sincere, just like yours.

" Make me forget, then." You reply, moving your lower loins back against him, giving him tacit permission to explore your body once more. His fingers move down to your breasts, which he covers softly with his hand, his thumb skimming over a nipple to make it hard. You let out a gasp between your parted lips.

His hand slides lower, his palm flat against your lower belly, his fingertips brushing the light patch of hair at the top of your mound. You feel the familiar warmth growing between your thighs, in your core.

He sighs against the back of your skull, his head tilted forward. His lips search the skin at the nape of your neck, behind the long hair that has become tangled during the night, while his fingers intimately explore the secrets of your body that he knows all too well. The remnants of last night's lovemaking still smear the insides of your thighs and folds, but it doesn't matter; his fingers easily find the little bundle of nerves that they tease until you close your eyes, until your hand grips the damp, shabby sheet that covers the ragged mattress in the inn where you've spent the night.

Just the both of you, in the comfort of anonymity. 

"Let me taste you". His voice, still husky, tickles the back of your neck and you feel him shift behind you. When you feel the warmth of his bare chest, against which you're nestled, leave your back, your body automatically tries to move back against him. You still need him. You still need him to chase away the lump of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the voices that keep reminding you that you're only postponing the fateful moment. Your hand slips under your white tunic and wraps around his wrist to force him to stay there, to hold his fingers against the source of heat spreading from your core. Your hips are demanding, grinding against his hand. "On your back," he insists, and stands up on his forearms.

With reluctance you turn over. You obey, lying on your back, your hair spilled around your head on the flat, uncomfortable pillow on which you slept badly. The white tunic that serves as your nightgown is pulled up, crumpled, just above your crotch, which it barely conceals. 

Aemond has swung over your body, silvery strands loosening from the braid that holds his hair behind his head and sliding down his shoulders, falling in loose loops on either side of his face, tickling your cheeks.

His lilac-tinted blue eye glows with a predatory gaze, a ray of light catching in the sapphire he hasn't removed from his socket. 

He captures your lips with his own, begging for access. Aemond marks your jaw and throat with light kisses, sucking at your collarbone to make the violets of possessiveness with which he likes to adorn your body bloom. His lips travel down your chest, playing with one of the two small nipples raised by the cool air and by desire, and continue their journey past your navel. 

Your heartbeat quickens as he settles between your legs, spreading your thighs to admire the part of you he covets so eagerly. At the same time you bend your legs, your gaze falling on him, on his unravelled hair, on his eye that locks with yours. He is so close to you, so close to your warm centre, and you know that between your folds the sweet nectar that your uncle longs to taste is already flowing.

But his lips trace the inside of your thighs instead, where the skin is soft and tender, and gradually they reach the hollow that connects them to your most intimate part. He takes a malicious pleasure in building up the tension, in savouring every millimetre of you like a fine delicacy, with only the tip of his lips brushing against your skin.

His thumbs spread the tender flesh of your womanhood and then he places a chaste kiss on the very centre of you. His tongue is shy at first, tracing the slit that connects your entrance to your little knob, collecting the evidence of your desire.

As his tongue wraps around your nub, your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white. 

Aemond drinks from your essence like a thirsty man, his nose buried between your folds, rubbing your pearl.

The tip of his tongue catches what drips from your opening, and then the flat of his tongue tastes your slit, working its way up to the little nub gorged with desire. 

He maintains the same rhythm, revelling in the moans that escape from your half-open lips. Soon his middle finger begins to draw circles against your entrance, the first knuckle sliding inside, then the whole finger. Your head is thrown back and immediately your hand buries itself in his silvery hair, gripping his braid in a messy bun behind the top of his head. Forcing his face against the most intimate part of your body, forcing his lips to work on your wet warmth, you seek more contact. 

Aemond adds a second finger. He can feel you tighten around him as he searches for that particular spot, as his tongue continues to play with your bundle of nerves.

As he devours what is his, utterly his.

His fingers, the ones that aren't buried inside you, close around the flesh of your hip in a possessive grip. "Come for me," he whispers against your womanhood, his eyes lifted to you. "I know you can do it."

Your breathing becomes more erratic, faster too. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, your thighs pressing either side of his face, and he collects the sweet taste of your release on his tongue with a hum. 

You feel like you're floating. The waves of warmth still wash over you, less and less intense, your breast rising and falling as you catch your breath. 

Your hand tucks a lock of his hair back behind his ear as Aemond lifts his face towards you, and you rest your hand against his cheek. His parted lips still glisten with your desire smeared across the lower part of his face. He stares at you without moving, his deep, regular breathing the only sound to break the silence that has followed your release. You stay like that for a moment, his gaze burning into yours. At any moment he might pounce on you. At any moment he might close the tiny distance separating your mouths and press his lips against yours like the starving man he is.

It's you who makes the first move. You taste yourself on his lips and your tongue entwines with his in a fiery, demanding kiss.

Straightening up, Aemond creeps between your legs, his hand on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart. He is still completely naked from the night before, he has not bothered to get dressed after your lovemaking, so you can catch a glimpse of his erect manhood, slightly curved. He wraps his hand around to guide it towards your still sensitive wet entrance.

He slides into you easily, in one slow movement. The haste of the night before, the urgency of the reunion, has given way to the tenderness and laziness of the early morning, and Aemond rocks inside you slowly. His hips undulate, punctuated by long, deep thrusts, in an illusion of domesticity. 

But the damp sheets, rough against your skin, the discomfort of the hard mattress beneath your back, remind you that your lovemaking is anything but domestic.

For Aemond is still the enemy, for Aemond is supposed to be dead.

For your family is probably looking for you at this very moment, worried that you have not returned home for the night.

But you push those thoughts away. The weight of your uncle's body on top of yours soothes the knot that forms in the pit of your stomach at the thought of time slipping away, at the thought of having to leave him again, at the thought of this being the last time you will taste his lips, his skin.

Aemond is gentle, and that is rare enough to be worth mentioning. He has never been so gentle, so soft, in the limited time that you have been married.

Between you, there had been the devouring, consuming passion, the power play that in your submission had granted you dominance.

Between you it had been raw and devastating more than gentle and tender.

His fingers run the length of your body to your core, combining his slow, deep thrusts with the movement of his fingers against your clit.

There are only few words exchanged between you, as if you were both afraid to break the grace of the moment.

His panting, noisy breath echoes in the silence, skimming the skin of your throat, then mingling with yours as the shadow of his lips brushes against yours. He rests his forehead against yours, your hand cupping his cheek, sliding behind his neck, and you are transported into a cocoon of intimacy where nothing else exists around you.

There is only his body against yours, warm and reassuring.

There is only him inside you and the slow movement of his hips.

There is only your breathing, blending in the space that separates your mouths.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" He whispers against your lips as you close your thighs around him. "How much I dreamed of this tight little cunt?" You swallow his words. Your hips meet his as he pushes against you. He is reaching deep inside you. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his body oozes power and darkness, and you can't help but be drawn to that side of him that complements yours so well. 

You can't stop your body from aching for him. 

"You could have been my queen," he says as his movements grow stronger. He won't last long, but neither will you. He's inside you, where you like to feel him, and your walls clench around his member. "And I would have set the whole world on fire for you." He thrusts. "Burned it to the ground" He thrusts again. "All for you." And again.

The old wood of the bed creaks with each of his movements.

You seek out his lips, just to brush them against yours. 

Without sealing the kiss.

"And I would have accepted," you answer with a whimper. "I would have been your queen, qybor." In another life, you think you would.

In another life, in another universe, you would have been his queen.

A grunt escapes his lips and lands in the hollow of your ear. Aemond straightens on his bent elbow, right next to your head, and he plunges into you one last time, with more power, more vigour, just as his new position allows.

You close your eyes. 

A second wave of warmth is about to engulf your body.

And you wait for it, you welcome it.

"Look at me when I come inside you," he growls hoarsely as his seed pours deep inside you, into the most intimate part of your body. "Look at me as I fill you up."

Your eyes lock with his, fiery as ever. A final moan escapes between your lips and you seal them to your uncle's in a feverish, wet kiss. You hold him in your arms for a moment longer, as if to allow yourself the luxury of illusion for a brief instant. 

You delay the fateful moment a little longer, fighting the minutes that inevitably slip through your fingers.

"Stay inside me just a little longer," you whisper, burying your head in the hollow of his neck where you can feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse. His arms close around you, holding you tight against him, and you hear him purr against the hair on the crown of your head. He rocks you gently.

The silence welcomes you both into its embrace and you savour it like a treasure. Your body aches in the sweetest way, your insides throbbing around his softening manhood. 

And around you, nothing exists anymore.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I've changed, you know." His hoarse voice vibrates against you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You keep them closed. 

You're not sure if Aemond has really changed. Aemond is ruthless, cold, brutal, calculating, merciless. Cruel. You're not sure if Aemond can ever change, but he shows unusual tenderness, and maybe, just maybe, you allow yourself to doubt. You indulge in the illusion. 

Perhaps Vhagar's death has broken something in him. 

Perhaps it's true, perhaps he's not the same man anymore.

He's not sorry for what he has done. He never will be. He's too proud, even if you can catch the glimmer of remorse that colours his icy eyes when he is not looking at you.

Does he think of your little brother? Is he haunted by the memory of him, as you have been for so many years?

Does he think of the innocents he killed without flinching, the blood he spilled in the Riverlands that now stains the burned grass? 

Is his sanity slowly being eaten away by the atrocities he has committed with his own hands? 

He has changed. You are not sure if he's changed for the better or for the worse, but he has indeed.

Daemon has changed too. So has Rhaenyra. So has Jace.

You too have changed.

For war changes people, war makes them weary and wary, it shatters something in the body that will never be the same again. It hollows out the roundness of the cheeks, it deepens the dark circles under the eyes, it fades the sparkle of childhood that remains in the eyes.

Aemond seems to be waiting for an answer, but the words remain stuck in your throat. I know, you want to whisper, I know, but suddenly you've forgotten how to speak. His thumb draws the soft line of the underside of your breast.

The future terrifies you more than ever. You had made peace with your past, you had come to a conclusion that, even if it pained you, had given you some respite. 

Seeing your uncle alive had reawakened your demons. 

Spending the night in the embrace of his arms had revived everything you had buried deep, deep down. 

The past had returned, creeping towards you, gnawing at the corners of your heart and at what remained of your sense of stability and certainty. 

Now you are plunged into doubt. 

Just as you were a little over three years ago, when you were informed of his death, when you had to learn to live with the choice that had never really been given to you.

Just as three years ago, when you noticed a familiar lilac-tinged blue in Rhaegar's eyes.

Like when you had to live with the memories that haunted you, that were slowly eating away at what little sanity you had left.

Like when you finally decided to leave for the North.

Aemond seems to sense your anguish, because his fingers get lost in your hair. 

"What are we going to do now?" 

Finally, you dare to utter the inevitable words that have been hanging on the tip of your tongue since you woke up, words you've swallowed so many times this morning. You immediately blame yourself. 

Saying them only makes them more real.

They tear at something in the imaginary cocoon you've built for yourselves. You bury your face against his skin, breathe in his scent, as if you never want to forget him.

For you know how fleeting memories can be.

You remember how his face faded with each passing day.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to experience it a second time.

"We could leave," Aemond replies, as his fingers venture to your jaw, caressing the line of your cheeks with the back of his knuckles. 

He's so pragmatic, as always.

Even in this situation.

Even now.

It makes you want to shake him.

"We could run away," he says again. His gaze, fixed in the distance, falls on you at the same moment. "To Essos. Pentos. No one would know who we are." You close your eyes, and let his hoarse voice lull you into silence. "To start our own family, the three of us."

You know he is not serious. Even though he looks at you with such insistence, with that flame that flickers in the centre of his iris.

You relish his fantasy, this impossible dream. 

But you can't leave your family; Essos is not Winterfell. There, they knew where to find you. They knew you were safe. They knew you were sheltered between the walls of the northern castle, under the heavy furs, under the protection of Cregan Stark.

Essos is the unknown.

You cannot let your mother lose her only daughter, not after everything she has already lost. 

The itch is familiar, tickling at the corners of your eyes. There was a time when you thought you'd lost that sensitivity. When you thought the war had left you cold, incapable of feeling anything. Incapable of crying.

"You know I can't." Your nose rubs against his milky skin, made clammy by sweat. You keep your eyes closed because you feel the weight of his cold gaze on you, his furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you blankly, his lips pursed in a long, thin line. You don't have the courage to meet his accusing gaze, let alone the wounded look on his face as you crush all his illusory dreams into dust. 

When did you become the more pragmatic of the two? 

When did you become the one responsible for bringing Aemond back to reality?

It used to be you, the one who filled your mind with unrealistic dreams, the one who dreamed of stories and fairy tales, back when you could still dream. "They need me, you know that."

A sneer stretches across your uncle's lips as he swallows a chuckle that sounds more like an ironic growl. You feel his whole body tense against yours, a sign that he's holding back his annoyance. 

A sign that he has something to say, that he's upset, but doesn't quite know how to put it into words. 

"Like they needed you back then?" he replies scathingly, bitterness on the tip of his tongue. "When they used you as a bargaining chip to achieve their ends, hm?"  

Your red cheeks burn with shame, as if he'd slapped you. You don't move, merely swallow hard. You know there's something right about what he is saying, but you don't want to admit it. 

You've done your duty.

You've done what is expected of you as a daughter.

It was not a question of them using you. It never was. 

It was your duty, only your duty, what you were always meant to perform, wasn't it?

And yet a small voice in the back of your head had already given you a similar speech, a few years ago, but you had tried to silence it.

You refused to let Aemond admit it. You refuse to allow him to do it. He had no idea, no right to criticise your family when he'd acted like that.

When he has done what he has done.

He has no idea what it is like to be a daughter.

You don't answer, and silence falls between you again.

You wish so desperately that he could go home with you; that he could tell them that he's sorry.

You wish it were easier. 

There is no one left to wait for Aemond but you, but his son, you know that. His family has been decimated, as has yours in some ways, though you still have your parents and your older brother.

For your uncle, there's nothing left but the shadow of his existence, the shadow of who he once was, long ago.

You let your hand trace the side of his throat, your nose buried against it, your lips hovering over his skin. You lean against him, your body on top of his, pressed together as if you were afraid to let him go.

"You could come with me instead," you whisper, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There's something shameful in the words you've just spoken aloud, something naive, and your burning cheeks are proof of your embarrassment.

Almost imperceptibly, he clenches beneath you, holding his breath. This is a bad idea and you feel stupid. Naive to have dared to suggest something like this.

His voice purrs in a hm that vibrates against you. He's about to say something. He searches for words. "You know that -"

"I know." You cut him off sharply - a little more than you would have liked, your eyes raised to silence him.

You know what he thinks.

He thinks that Rhaenyra will never be his queen. He thinks he will never bend the knee to his eldest sister and her authority, which he doesn't recognise.

He thinks that with the death of Aegon, with the death of the children his brother fathered with Helaena, the throne belongs to him.

And you are aware of his ambitions. You know how perfectly the conqueror's crown fits his head. You know how it sets off the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. You remember the look of greed in his eyes every time he stared at the Iron Throne, you remember the look of pride on his face every time he scorned anyone who dared to question his decisions as Prince Regent.

You know how mercilessly he made the soldiers at Harrenhal kneel, forcing them to contemplate their impending deaths. You know the terror he has sown throughout the Riverlands.

Even in the Seven Hells you could have found more mercy than at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond may have changed, but you're not sure he's changed enough to put aside the pride that is consuming him from within.

You take a deep breath. "You don't really have a choice, qybor." 

Fearing his reaction, you curl into a fetal position, your back to him, your knees drawn up to you. You close your eyes. You wait for his frustration.

You wait for his sentence.

You know that he is aware that he has no choice. 

He has only two options: swallow his pride or sink back into the abyss, disappear into the dark meanders of oblivion.

Rhaegar needed his father, of course, but you found him a father in Cregan Stark. 

That was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

There was no way you would give up what family you had left.

For Rhaegar needed his grandparents and his uncle even more.

Behind you, you feel your uncle's hand slip under your tunic and around your body, pulling you against him. He presses his bare chest against your back, tucking your head under his chin. His hand caresses your stomach, then his fingers brush the base of your breast.

"You know she will never be my queen. You know the throne belongs to -" But he lets the words drop without finishing the sentence, the knowledge of what he was about to say hanging in the air between you. 

As long as he remains alive, will the embers of war never truly be extinguished? 

You don't know, but you accept the risk. 

You close your eyes, as if you're about to jump into the icy depths with both feet.

"The rest is up to you, Aemond," you whisper, barely audible. "And if you have truly changed, then you will know how to make the right choice."

He says nothing. 

You savour the last few minutes of illusion you have left.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

The fear of making the wrong choice never really leaves you, but your mother chases your fears away, as she so often did when you were a child, tucking one of your dark curls behind your ear. She has her distinctive little smirk on her lips, the one that pulls the corner of her lips up towards her nose.  

The same one Lucerys had, you think sadly. 

You still miss him, even after all this time, and sometimes you wonder what kind of young man he would have become.

"You're a clever girl, my sweet clever girl," she whispers against your forehead as she cradles you in her arms. She's as beautiful as ever, as gentle with you as ever, despite the years, despite the wear and tear of war that has hardened her features and hollowed her cheeks. "And I know you have made the right decision." She lifts your chin with her forefinger to look into your eyes, and you feel like you're turning back into that shy, insecure girl who disappeared somewhere in the violence of the war all those years ago.

 "And if it should turn out that you were wrong... Daemon will be there to intervene. You know he is just waiting for that." You roll your eyes at her attempt at humour, and she plants a kiss on your forehead. 

For a split second, you truly are that carefree little girl again.

But behind your mother's humour lie fragments of reality that make your laughter bitter.

The news of your husband's survival remains a hazy blur in your mind. Sometimes you're not sure if this conversation really occurred or if you're dreaming.

You're not sure if what's around you, if the night you spent in Aemond's arms, is real or an invention of your sick mind.

Sometimes you're not really conscious of the events or how long they lasted, the lump in your stomach grows back, and once again you're destined to carve half-moons marks in the palms of your hands to soothe the tension in your body.

You told your mother first because you knew she'd be more understanding. As a mother, as a woman, she knows the meaning behind certain silences, the weight of words, the unspoken words that float between sentences. 

You know she can understand your pain and your doubts, but also your love and your compassion.

She was shocked when you told her that her younger brother was still alive. She smoothed her dress, paced back and forth, then took the time to sit down, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes riveted to your face, looking for clues that would betray what you were thinking, what you might be hiding. She was afraid that he had hurt you. She was afraid that he would rip you away from her, just as he had once ripped your little brother away from her.

Her fingers had gently taken your hand and her thumb had drawn little circles on the back of your hand to comfort you. She listened to you first as you confessed everything. 

Where you were that night when you didn't come home. 

Who you were with.

And then she took you in her arms. She reassured you. Soothed you. 

You had been so afraid of disappointing her, of disappointing all of them, that the tension paralysing your body had finally loosened and you burst into tears.

Things had proved more complicated with Daemon. When he learned that his nephew was alive, that he wasn't forgotten forever in the deep waters of the lake near Harrenhal, he refused to believe you. He was furious. He said he had seen him fall, that he was the one who had taken his life, tearing the sky apart.

You didn't know where to look, and it was in your mother's eyes that you sought support, comfort, anything in the face of your stepfather's rage. You could feel on you the look of disappointment of your brother, Jace, as he held his shoulders up and his chin high. He wanted to prove that one day he would be a good king. With his jaw clenched, he said nothing, looking at you as if you were suddenly so foreign to him. He probably didn't know what to say, for fear of being clumsy, for fear of unintentionally hurting you, even more than by his lack of support. 

You know it wasn't his fault. 

He simply couldn't understand.

The words stuck in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, pearls glittering in the corners of your eyes while you waited impatiently for the final blow.

The final death knell that would seal your disgrace in everyone's eyes.

After all you'd endured.

Daemon stood before you, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes hard. He was staring at you as if you'd committed the ultimate treason, and you knew he was controlling himself to keep his anger from exploding. "You're going to bring him to me," he had hissed, his hand closing over your shoulder. 

" You will lure him here and he will be put to the sword." His tone left no room for argument. With the tension growing in your stomach, you sought your mother's compassionate look to calm you. You could see the fury in your stepfather's eyes, and also a mixture of fear and feelings of betrayal. You knew that, deep down, he was afraid for you because he considers you his daughter. Because Baela and Rhaena are like sisters to you. 

It was his reaction you feared most, not your mother's. His fingers dug into your skin, the floor slipping out from under you, the room swaying dangerously, and your mother had come to your rescue, trying to calm things down with her usual diplomacy.

You can't quite remember the words your stepfather said; in anger he muttered something that sounded like are you really thinking of becoming his whore again? and the words hurt like hell, but you tried to swallow the pain.

 Endure, hold your head high. That was what you had learned.

Your mother had suggested you go back to your room or spend some time with Rhaegar, her fingers gently stroking your dark locks, and as soon as you left the throne room you could hear their voices echoing through the door. 

They were arguing.

Over you.

Because of you, again.

You took a deep breath and returned to the gardens, where your two stepsisters were making your son laugh by playing with him. They had fun running around in the damp grass to the applause of Baela's little daughter, who clapped her little hands in delight.

Your fingers were still trembling when you joined them.

In the end a solution was found, for your mother feared losing you a second time. 

She remembered what had happened to Laenor, your father, when he had grown tired of the court.

She remembered what had happened to Helaena, your sweet aunt, when she could no longer bear to suffer.

It was her worst nightmare to see you torn from her again, now that she had the chance to hold you in her arms every day, to protect you again, to see you grow again.

It was her worst nightmare to see her only daughter, her only daughter and the second of her only surviving children, taken from her. 

You and Jace were all she had left of her own blood.

After long negotiations with Daemon, you had managed to bargain for your husband's life in exchange for strict conditions; increased surveillance, no bonding with a new dragon, no carrying of weapons, and the assurance that he would be executed if there was the slightest doubt about him. You proposed that you and he leave the capital, with your son as well. To return to Dragonstone. To start over on a new, blank page in a book that was already too damaged.

For you, it was also a way to ease the tensions between your family and Aemond, and perhaps find a more intimate life with your husband and son.

Rhaenyra had declared that this was the best solution: a guarantee for her to have you by her side again, a guarantee for her that you would be there.

You had been afraid of Aemond's reaction, afraid that his ego would not bear it; that he would refuse, that he would rather sentence himself to his own death than to an existence as a prisoner within his own family, condemned to live as a shadow of the man he had once been in exchange for seeing his son grow up. 

But in the end, wasn't he doomed to live as a shadow of the man he had once been, anyway?

He would never be the rider of Vhagar again.

He would never be the ruthless Prince Regent again.

He would never again be the second in line to the throne, the second son greedily waiting for fate to turn in his favour.

He hadn't been all of that for a good three years, lurking in the cold, gloomy corridors of Harrenhal like a lonely monster.

And if he went back, if he rejected your proposal, he would have condemned himself to eternal solitude at the side of a witch you would rather forget.

He had no choice, for he would never be that Aemond again. 

When you joined your husband at the meeting place, you were relieved to see him swallow his pride and accept. It was difficult, but you convinced him. 

For Rhaegar, for his son.

Aemond had suggested that you run away, far away from everything, and you almost hesitated. Running away would have allowed you to forget, of course. 

But your deepest wounds had begun to heal. You had begun to be able to face the ghosts that haunted King's Landing, the ghosts that haunted Dragonstone.

To stop there was tempting, and yet so frightening at the same time. 

The unknown terrified you. You needed familiarity now, something to fall back on, for you were so tired. 

Now you can't help bringing your thumb to your lips, nibbling the skin at the corner of your fingernail with the tip of your teeth as you walk away from Rhaenyra. A handmaiden brings you Rhaegar, and you struggle to breathe. 

You inhale.

You exhale.

The thick tuft of brown hair makes you smile. The sight of your son is enough to give you the courage to walk with a more confident stride. It's as if you were filled with new strength, for you know that he needs you more than anyone else. And for him, you've promised yourself to stay strong.

As soon as you reach him, you kneel and plant a kiss on his plump cheeks. 

He's growing up so fast that sometimes you wish you could stop time.

"There's someone who'd like to meet you, sweet boy," you explain, and you can recognise your mother's inflection in your own voice. Sweet boy. Rhaegar looks at you with big, round, questioning eyes, and you wonder if he senses your anxiety, because he takes your hand between his tiny fingers.

"Who, muña ?" he babbles, striding down the cobbled path in the middle of the gardens, hopping on his clumsy little legs, and you smile at his carefree attitude. He stops to watch the bees foraging, bends down to pick up a flower and gives it to you. He's always so curious, so full of life. He's a ray of sunshine that brightens your dull days. You finally understand your mother, the agonising fear she has of losing you. You finally understand the horror she experienced when she lost her four other children.

You also finally understand why Helena threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast.

The thought of what Daemon did still revolts you, and you can't imagine anyone hurting your boy like that.

You turn around. Rhaenyra is still there, in the distance, her crown on her head, her hands crossed in front of her on the heavy fabric of her dress, watching over you. She won't move, a comforting, discreet presence.

A stone bench awaits you by the fountain, on which two cushions have been arranged. A dessert buffet has been set up under the gazebo and you immediately spot your favourite cakes, the strawberry one, the blackberry jam one, and you look down at your son. He hasn't noticed them yet, or he would have already run over, dipped his finger in the whipped cream and stolen a blueberry from one of the tarts, his innocent expression on his face. 

He is definitely a lot like you. Mischievous and clever. An angelic air. He is an easy-going child who never throws a tantrum.

Who understands quickly, too. 

"I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, don't you, young boy?" your tone is soft, and you kneel down in front of him, your hands on his small shoulders to emphasise the seriousness of your discussion. You search for your words, hesitating. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father, his dead father, is back from the dead and about to meet him?

Of course, Rhaegar knows that his birthfather was valiant, that his birthfather rode the greatest dragon in the world, that his birthfather died in battle.

But there is so much he doesn't know, so much he will inevitably learn as he grows up, and it is precisely that future that frightens you. You hug him as if you're afraid of losing him.

"Princess."

The deep voice of your sworn protector echoes behind you, and you straighten your skirt. 

You know he is there. 

You know you will see him the moment you turn around.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Aemond Targaryen stands behind your sworn protector, surrounded by two guards. His hands are bound in front of him. 

It is so strange to see your uncle in this vulnerable position. He who for so long has been on the other side, he who for so long has been the one who bent others to his will. He looks at you harshly, and you almost feel the need to apologise.

But you know it is a matter of caution.

You know that Daemon, you know that Jace and even your mother would never have agreed to bring him in if such precautions hadn't been taken.

You admire his resilience, his determination. You admire his ability to hold his head high, to be confident, despite the fact that he is being treated like a common prisoner, about to be sentenced to death.

You struggle to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat. 

"Who's that, muña?" Aemond's eyes leave you and immediately drop to the small figure that has appeared beside you, reaching for your hand, huddling against your leg, shy and worried. 

Immediately, your husband's icy gaze, his lilac-coloured eyes, soften.

"Thank you, Sir Rowan. You may leave us."

Despite the worry on his face, your sworn protector nods, unties his prisoner's hands and walks back to your mother, accompanied by the other two guards. You watch them leave, and a strange silence fills the space between you and your uncle.

He doesn't look at you; his eyes are riveted to your son, whom he observes with wonder. He looks as if he is admiring the most beautiful and fascinating discovery he has ever seen. You look down to see Rhaegar's reaction, and he seems as intimidated as he is hypnotised by that gaze, by that blue and purple eye so similar to his owns, by this man looking at him as if he were one of the most marvellous things in the world. 

"Gods, he's perfect," Aemond murmurs as he looks up at you, emerging from his trance. He comes closer to embrace you. And for once, there is something other than his usual brutal possessiveness and ferocity when his arms close around you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

Aemond is shy at first. Awkward. 

He's shy and amazed as he follows your son's every move with his good eye. From time to time, his gaze rests on you, as if to make sure he's not dreaming. As if to make sure he is doing right, seeking your approval.

Rhaegar is shy too, at first.

When he sits on your lap, he snuggles up to you, buries his face in your neck, one of your locks curled in his chubby little hand and he rubs it against his nose. From time to time, he turns to give his father a curious look, recognising his own eyes in the unfamiliar face before him. 

Aemond's expression grows gentler, a softness never seen in his features before.

Once he has tamed the stranger, the little boy pecks at the blueberries in the tart in front of him. He shakes his legs, hitting your knees in painful little jabs, and your arm wraps around his body to hold him down.

Rhaegar loves cake, and the sugar may be coaxing him, for he's regaining his appetite for talking.

"He really does have my eyes," Aemond whispers incredulously, and his voice, still foreign to his son's ears, causes the little boy to lift his head.

" It is definitely the only thing he has inherited from you," you reply, teasing him with a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Soon Rhaegar finishes the blueberry tart, the cream smeared over the bottom of his face and the tip of his nose.

"He inherited that from you, that is certain." Aemond grins, pointing with his long chin at the boy's voracious appetite for cakes and pastries.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. That your husband is really standing in front of you, with your son, like a normal family. 

That he was truly trying to tell a joke.

This form of domesticity is so alien to your relationship, and yet so pleasant, that you find yourself thinking that perhaps you have made the right decision, indeed, if every day can be like this. 

"Your muña deserves some cake too, what do you say, little one?"

Rhaegar giggles. Aemond cuts a slice of your favourite cake, the one with the strawberries, and puts it on your plate. 

You blush. After all these years, he hasn't forgotten which one is your favourite.

You can't even really whisper a thank you because this apparent domesticity, this feeling of completeness, this interlude of happiness makes you uneasy. Anxious.

You have the feeling that at any moment you'll be plunged back into the horror of what you went through all those years ago. 

You have the feeling that at any moment the Gods will be cruel and snatch away this happiness that you've barely been able to taste, leaving only the memory of its sweet taste on your lips.

You breathe in and out, as you often do when you feel your palpitations rising in your chest.

"Do you... do you want to take him on your lap?" you ask your uncle with shyness, your hand stroking Rhaegar's thick brown curls. Aemond looks at you as if you have spoken in a foreign language. Lips parted, he is about to say something, but not a sound escapes his lips. His lonely eye travels from you to your son, from your son to you, in silence.

"I don't know if -"

You can hear the doubt in his voice, and it's almost touching to see him lose his confidence in front of his own son, to see him so nervous and unsure of himself.

You let out a little laugh, not in mockery, obviously, just full of tenderness.

You know what he's thinking.

He's afraid of frightening him.

He's afraid of harming him.

"You won't hurt him, Aemond."

He answers nothing. He still doesn't like to look vulnerable, unsure, and you know it has to do with his childhood. With all he has kept bottled up inside him all these years. He will need time.

Your eyes fall back to the little boy sitting in your lap, and you draw his attention to yourself by stroking the curls on his forehead.

"Do you want to go to Aemond for a while? To kepus?" 

you correct yourself immediately, and Rhaegar nods in agreement.

You are amazed at how easily he slips off your legs to run to his father, to pull himself onto his lap, when only a few hours ago he was so intimidated by the presence of this stranger with the eyepatch.

Your uncle automatically puts his arm around his waist to make him feel comfortable, his new role taking root in him. His fingers reach for the cloth on the table, and he wipes Rhaegar's face, who can't help but burst out laughing at his father's clumsy gestures.

For a split second you are lost in contemplating the horizon, the stillness of the sea. You taste the sea breeze on your face.

And then you turn your head towards the cobbled path where the guards and your sworn protector are still stationed. 

Your mother is no longer there, and you notice that you have not at any time felt the need to seek comfort in her presence. 

You smile, for in the end you know you've made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

Dragonstone, 6 months later.

When you walk the corridors of the place that saw you grow up, you are no longer haunted by the ghosts and their incessant cries. A kind of peace has settled over you, a return to the pleasant familiarity you've waited so long for.

You still think of Luke, of course. Of Luke and Joff and little Aegon and Viserys, your brothers you will never see grow old. 

But you no longer feel their disapproving glances at every step you take. You are no longer kept awake by their cries, by their tears, by the remorse that twists your stomach. 

You no longer blame yourself. 

Perhaps you've finally learnt to make peace with yourself.

The heavy door of the bedroom you share with Aemond is half open, and you slip your head into the doorway, piqued by curiosity.

Snuggled on your husband's lap, Rhaegar is staring at the pages of a large book, the corners of which you can guess are horned, the cover worn, from being carried everywhere. You can imagine the jam stains that mark the paper with children's fingerprints. You know exactly which page is missing, the one you and Aemond accidentally tore out and hid so the Septa wouldn't notice, so many years ago. 

It is a book about dragons, the very one the two of you used to read hidden under the table when you were so young and innocent, long before the torment of war.

Without a sound, you lean against the doorframe and contemplate for a moment the perfect vision before you.

You don't have the cruelty to disturb them.

 "This one is Vhaegar!" shouts Rhaegar, and you hold your breath, searching Aemond's face for any hint that might betray his reaction. The mention of his former dragon is still a sensitive subject for him, you know it.

"Yes, that's Vhagar." he pauses. "She was brave."

From the corner of his eye, Aemond spots your silhouette in the faint glow of the corridor, and his attention lingers on you for a moment. He's almost embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment, but you smile tenderly to encourage him.

"And big!" the little boy adds, energetically raising his arms to the sky to emphasise his words.

"Yes, and big." There's a suspended moment of silence where the words hang in the air, and then your husband gently ruffles his son's hair. It's a tender sight to see them bond like this, and your heart fills with happiness.

Taking a step forward, you step into the light of the room and Rhaegar expresses his joy at seeing you. You smile back at him and approach the chair where Aemond sits, your son on his lap.

Your uncle's hand instantly rests on the curve of your belly, which he still stares at with the same protective instinct, the same fascination, as the day you told him the news. His eyes sparkle.

"Your daughter is restless today."

He looks up at you, not without lingering for a moment on your breasts and their new shape.

"My daughter?" he asks, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"I'm convinced it's a girl. You reply, smiling wryly, and take a seat in the armchair next to the one where Aemond and your son are sitting, facing the fireplace. "And she took after her father, given her temper," you tease him, your hand on the top of your rounded belly to soothe the baby growing there. 

Rhaegar's eyes close slowly. Nestled against the chest of the man who, just a few months ago, was still a stranger, he fights sleep, he fights to stay awake, but tiredness quickly overcomes him. And then he falls asleep, his mouth half open, the movements of his breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Aemond finally gets up. You follow his movements with your eyes as he approaches you, the child in his arms, and he plants a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be right back." He straightens and lowers his voice.

"I wouldn't fail in my duty and neglect my wife." The heat rises to your cheeks, turning them red at the implication of what awaits you tonight. You're already wet between your thighs at the thought. 

But you nod in agreement and watch him walk away. 

You are left alone in the silence of the room. The only sound around you is the steady crackling of the fire.

It's strange, you think, to be back on Dragonstone, in the familiarity of the stones you've spent most of your life between, after getting used to the idea of not surviving the war.

To the idea of dying from a broken heart.

To the idea of dying, the umpteenth victim of the vicious spiral of conflict that has torn your family apart.

And yet here you are.

With your own family.

For once you have hope for the future. You hear the cries of your little brother, lost in the storm so long ago, but they are quickly replaced by the laughter of a happy memory. 

And finally, you have the absolute confirmation that you have made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** ***

Thank you so much for reading!! <3

Tag list : @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis (I'm tagging you since you asked for it ❤️)

[callme-holly]

Hi! Wow, do I like your writing. It's really creative and honestly makes me so happy. I was wondering if I could request like what a sleepy morning with Dallas would look like? I just feel like he'd be super clingy when he's half awake, you know?

Anyways! Love your writing and keep doing you🤩

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - so sorry that this took me so long to get back to - I've been swamped with revision lately and stress levels have been high. I will try my best to get round to all the requests in my inbox but updates might be a little slow. As always my asks are still open for requests!! 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.2k words 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none

The room is surprisingly cool despite the fact that it is mid-summer; the temperature is already hovering on the borderline of unbearable as the sun slowly creeps up into view over the horizon.

At some point in the night, the thin sheet that Dallas keeps draped over your bodies has been lost, sitting in a crumpled heap on the hardwood floor below, forgotten and discarded, leaving you both exposed to the harsh rays of light seeping in through the window. 

Dallas is lying on his side, curled towards you, one arm slung loosely around your waist in a protective gesture, his body radiating warmth against yours. His hair falls in light wisps, framing his face, and for once he looks peaceful, that wall he always puts between himself and everyone else falling away in sleep. It's a rare sight, indeed, to see his face wiped completely of that cocky smirk or that guarded expression that usually marres his features, but a welcome one nonetheless. 

Shifting slightly, you push yourself up onto your elbows, stretching out your limbs and groaning quietly in protest. A grunt sounds from beside you, Dallas muttering something unintelligible as he shifts closer to where you are, wrapping both arms around your torso in an attempt to pull you back down next to him, though without success. 

He seems oblivious to the time, seemingly not caring whether or not you’re late to your job, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching gently at his scalp, in an attempt to rouse him but only earning another discontented noise response. 

“Dal,” you mumble, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. “I gotta get up.” But it seems that your attempts fall on deaf ears, and Dallas only pulls you closer to him, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, still refusing to budge. His lips press firmly against the bare skin of your collarbone, pecking repeatedly at the skin. 

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere today, doll,” he mumbles, his voice deep and muffled. “It’s too early.” He continues peppering kisses around your neck, his hand sliding lower, fingers teasing the hem of your shorts, and fingertips lightly dancing across your stomach.

You realise there's no point in arguing with him. He's far too stubborn for his own good, and once he’s got his mind set on something, you best believe he’s doing it. And right now, he’s decided that what he wants is you all to himself, and you aren’t going anywhere until he lets you go.

Your resolve wavers slightly when you feel his teeth graze against the skin of your throat, and a small involuntary shiver runs down your spine as a result. 

“Dallas,” you try again, pushing at the arm wrapped around your waist in a weak attempt to pry him away, resulting only in him tightening his grip on you further. 

“It’s only eight thirty,” he says, still not moving an inch from his position, his breath hot against your skin. “Your shift doesn’t start ‘til nine.” 

You let out an exasperated sigh, kissing your teeth and trying yet again to pry his arms loose, determined to still be out the door on time. “I still have to get ready. If I’m late, I’ll be fired; you know that.”

He grunts again, looking entirely unamused as he raises his head slightly to glare at you. His eyes are still heavy, glazed over with sleep, and you can’t help but chuckle fondly at the sight. 

“Just call in sick,” He mumbles, his tone almost petulant. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them." And with that, he turns over, pulling you along with him despite your feeble protests, effectively pinning you underneath him. 

For a few moments, neither of you move, just lying silently together, staring out the window at the rising sun before it finally breaches over the horizon, bathing both of you in golden light. Dallas’ hair appears almost white in its hue, like a halo encircling his head. It’s funny, really, you think; he looks so angelic in that moment, but every soul who has ever laid eyes on him knows better. Dallas Winston is certainly no angel—far from it, in fact. He’s cold, tough, and mean—a guy who takes pride in his scars and imperfections. 

You can’t help but wonder how you ended up with someone like him—someone so roughed up and hardened by the world. But then he smiles, flashing you that stupid, crooked grin that drives you crazy, making the butterflies flutter wildly in the bottom of your stomach.

“Enjoyin’ the view, doll?” He asks, his words a lazy drawl that sends a chill down your spine despite your warm cocoon beneath his strong chest.

Your cheeks flush pink, the colour standing stark against your skin, and you roll your eyes, unable to keep the smile off of your face.

“It’s alright,” You reply nonchalantly, not willing to make the greaser's head any bigger than it already is, trying your best to starve off his rapidly growing ego. The blonde gives you a wolfish grin, eyebrows raising as if waiting for you to go on.

“Just alright?” He challenges you, leaning closer so that his lips are practically brushing against your ear, his breath causing goosebumps to break out across your exposed skin. 

“Mhmm... Just alright,” You hum, forcing yourself to meet his gaze evenly, trying your best to keep your voice steady. “Now let me go.” 

You struggle to pull yourself free, but he holds fast, his grin widening and his hands sliding slowly downward, palms skimming across your sides, before coming to rest on your hips, hands rough against your soft skin. “No can do, dollface.” He offers you a helpless shrug, and if it weren’t for the smug look written all across his features, you would almost believe that he is being entirely sincere. However, you also know that he is just as troublesome as he is charming, and that being sincere is something Dallas Winston hardly ever does. 

Still, your resistance wanes after he places gentle kisses along the column of your neck and shoulder, and you can't help but melt at his touch, closing your eyes as you lean into him, allowing your head to fall backwards and resting on his broad chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart. 

“Just a couple more minutes,” he mumbles, his breath fanning across your skin as he trails open-mouthed kisses up your neck, nipping playfully at your throat and grinning wildly.

“Fine,” you concede. You don’t really want to get up yet anyway, not when you could just stay here with him. Sure, you’ve now only got roughly fifteen more minutes until you have to be leaving for work, but you can cross that bridge when you get there.

For now, you want to spend these last few fleeting moments wrapped up in the thin sheet Dallas keeps draped over the both of you, relishing in the hushed silence that hangs throughout the room, rare yet forever welcome, just like these soft moments. 

They’re rare, but oh so precious, and even though this isn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your morning, you couldn't imagine having it any other way.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[grnherbs]

behind closed doors.

eighteen plus, mdni

an: my first "proper" fic back in months, I'm so sorry :(( also sorry it's not anything re or related, I've been so reinvested in peaky blinders lately :{ i hope you enjoy anyway, ily lots xoxox. also this is much shorter than i thought so rip.

he pushes your head down into the ground and wraps calloused fingers around your wrists, the bend of his knee in the back of yours as he holds you down. "pinned you again, darlin, haven't i?" he teases, moth by your ear, the accent rolling off his tongue.

he places his hand into his pocket, pulling out a prerolled cigarette and placing it between his lips, before lighting it with the embellished silver gas lighter, one hand still holding your wrists together, swallowing the seemingly tiny frame of your wrists in those veined hands.

the scent of aftershave and cigarettes filled your senses and you inhale somewhat, taking in the familar scent of your friend .

"and where do we go from here, eh?, sweetheart?" he teased, the ever pressing feeling of dirt sticking to your cheek which was smoothed into the floor of the room, feeling amplified tenfold under the sensitivity and passionate embarrassment you were feeling.

"missed you," you whine pathetically out to the older man, words falling on deaf ears as a dark chuckle proceeded to fall from his lips, before he licked them, leaning down and kissing behind your ear, nose rubbing against the back of your neck, sending a shudder down your back, not unfelt by him.

"you're so easy t' work up, all i gotta do is look at you and you're mine, don't i?" and you nod again, breath hitching. he took a drag of the cigarette, flipping you over to straddle his legs either side of yours, placing the cigarette between your lips.

your faces were inches away from eachother and the smoke from your exhales merged together, soft fog settling between you, before dissapating, his harsh blue eyes shone through regardless.

in the next moment his lips were on yours, a surprised squeak leaves your mouth and he smirked into the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue as the smokey taste reverberated into your mouth once more. the kiss was tough but soft, moulding together with every movement as you lay beneath him.

his hand lazily made its way down your body, laying on instances, caressing your throat, your collarbones, your chest.

"c'mon then, lemme show you why you're mine" he coldly states, bringing his mouth to your neck, undoing buttons on the work shirt you wore, until you lay exposed to him, cold air prickling at your nipples and he raises an eyebrow before moving down to kiss them, cigarette long forgotten, lay sizzling in the ash tray to the side of your head.

his long fingers stay tracing your sides, drawing figures and he dotes or your nipples, a whine escaping your mouth "shit..." you exasperate, feeling his pride bouncing off his activity, egging him to carry on his ministrations and he does.

he pulls your shirt fully off now, chucking his cap to the side and moving his lower body up to completely lift your skirt, not bothering to even pull it off. he shuffles down and you hear a laugh as he plunges a finger into you, wet slick covering them and you gasp, gripping his wrist and tears brim in your eyes, he shushes you, kissing your jawline and begins to move his finger in slow movements, stretching you out as much as possible, enjoying the pulse of you wrapped around it.

"my gorgeous fuckin girl ey?" he retorts, watching you writhe around upon him "this needy for a fucking finger, and you just wait till i stick my cock in you, innocent girl" his dark drawl echoes in your head and you feel drunk from the sound of it, before you notice he's slipped another finger in and begins fucking you with them, lewd sounds filling the air, along with the explicit sounds leaving your own mouth.

"t-tom what if someone hears us" you whine up into his chest and he shakes his head "let 'em, let 'em hear what a fucking whore you are for me" he leans down again, kissing your forehead "whatever happens behind closed doors darlin'"

his fingers reach spots you simlly couldn't and the euphoria of the high hits you, cheeks reddening as moments tick by, watching him;watching you.

he removes his fingers before you climax, pushing your knees apart with a tap of his palm on yout outer thigh, obediently you know what he wants now, used to the routine which follows now. he unbuttons his trousers, almost excruciatingly slow, eyes fixed upon you the whole time, barely even bothering to pull them down past his knees, as he's fucking into you in seconds.

his hips jut into you with a quickened pace, sweat resting upon his brow as he buries his head in your shoulder again, huffing out a string of curses by your ears, the eroticism increasing by second. "s-shit!" you cry out, moaning even louder now, sloppily moving your hips in time with his too, synchronised, entirely in the moment together.

he strokes your hair from your forehead as he leans upon his forearm to gather more momentum, fucking into you with force now, his own breath becoming shallow and his pace becoming sloppier, trying to hold out for longer, groaning about how good you feel in your ears.

the build up in your stomach rising and falling and rising again, each time closer and closer to the brink of falling over the edge. "tommy, please, i, i want to, need you" and he soothes you again, nodding, his own high approaching as he helps you ride out your orgasm, legs clenched round his waist, pulling him in, clenching around him as he cums deep within you, a content sigh leaving his throat, collapsing upon you.

you lay breathless for a moment, his body on top of yours and you both pant with exhaustion, whilst you lazily stroke his hair, eyes heavy and heat lingers in the air.

he plants a kiss on your collar, leaving you smiling and you bite your lip. he nudges in further and you close your eyes. content within the moment.

[wosoluver]

We don't talk anymore - Part 2

Claudia Pina x childhood best friend!reader

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Different people reach the high of their careers at different times.

You couldn't complain though. From playing with the boys in your neighborhood, to playing for a first division team in England, you had come a long way.

And now at just 23, you were being transferred to Barcelona.

Yes. The same team that had turned their back on you years ago.

In truth you took the hard hit of being separated from your best friend and your family, as an opportunity, to work hard enough to make back home.

And here you were. Making your way to your first training with the team.

Your heart pounded in your chest, anticipating to see those beautiful blue eyes, always paired with a grin.

You thought about reaching out, but decided against it. What were you supposed to say? Hello? Remember me? I'm coming home?

And it's not like she didn't know you had been signed by her team. She could have reached out too.

Unless, something you refused to believe, she had completely forgot your existence, and didn't recognize her own childhood best friend.

You took a deep breath walking in, you went around the locker room, introducing yourself and Alexia took you under her wing immediately, trying to make sure fit in. Apparently you were a bit early.

"Y/N?" - You heard as you turned around.

Seeing her eyes shining as you did.

"Clau." - You said it on a quieter tone.

She immediately hugged you. Initially you didn't hug her back. Blame it on shock or blame it on hard feelings. But eventually you gave in.

"You two know each other?" - asked Jana.

"They are best friends." said Patri.

The only one there who had actually heard about you. Many, many times.

Like Piña she started very young on Barça, around the same time. They instantly became friends. She spent many nights wiping Claudia's tears, while she mourned the loss of her friend.

"I've missed you more than anything!" - She said already emotional.

"Long time no see hm?" - You said trying to break the awkwardness.

"I watched you play all the time on my tv." - And you instantly let the wall you were trying so hard to keep up, down. Offering her a smile.

"I did the same! I'm sorry for not reaching out.

I know it's stupid, but I thought you might have forgotten me..."

"There's not a day that went by where I did think about you."

You heard someone clean their through.

"You guys can talk more later yeah? We have some training to do." - Said Alexia kindly.

"I'm Patri! Piña's second best friend." - Said Guijarro with a big smile as you

all walked out for the field.

You couldn't remember the last time you had so much fun playing. You remembered how it felt to play as a kid. Remembered why you fell in love with the sport in the first place.

"Ets boníssima, Y/N! Welcome to Barça." - Alexia, said giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Moltes gràcies." - Giving her a bright smile.

"Hey wait up for me!" - Claudia yelled as you were all going in to shower.

"You're better than I remembered."

"Well the girls at Tottenham were a lot harder to play against, than the boys from back home." - You both let out heartfelt laughs.

"I'm sorry I left you behind."

"Stop! You didn't. You were following your destiny."

"I felt so powerless, not being able to demand they brought you along."

"Well I took the longer way here."

"You made them regret not choosing you. You proved them wrong. You played until they couldn't ignore you anymore!"

"You make it sound more glorious than it actually was."

"I told you, we would make it."

"You saw potential in me, before any team could."

You two finished getting ready.

"Do you need a ride home?"

"That would be nice."

"Okay. Patri you're giving Y/N a ride!"

"You offered me a ride? As a passenger in someone else's car?" - She really hadn't changed.

"She won't mind."

"I don't mind." - Said Patri joining the two of you on the way to the car. - "The english league had nothing on your defense, Y/N. You needed better competition."

As she said that you completely understood why they became close.

And once again, you made your way home together. As if you had never been separated at all.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

[bitterspoons]

For once, I thought it was me.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Soulmate au where you can hear the songs your soulmate is listening to. Fred asks your best friend—Angelina—to the ball thinking she's his soulmate.

use of y/n

Warnings: Angst and just a lil' fluff

Word Count:

part one / part two coming soon

A/N: of course the first thing I write is a soulmate au 😭—it's fine and I hope you like it.

"Angelina!" Y/n calls, running over to the Gryffindor table—almost tripping over her feet before placing a hand on Angelina's shoulder.

"Yes?" Angelina looked up from her conversation with the Weasley twins and smiled at her best friend. The Great Hall was bustling with noise.

Y/n panted, catching her breath as she fixed her hair. "Sorry—I just—I ran—oh god I'm dying—" Y/n tried to catch her breath before waving her hand at the twins. "Give me a second—continue your conversation..."

Angelina chuckled before turning back to George and Fred. "This is my friend, Y/n." Angelina introduced. "She's in Hufflepuff so I doubt you would've met her."

Y/n waved, stealing some of Angelina's water.

"Why haven't you invited her to some of our parties?" George asked, batting his eyes. "It would've been nice, seeing a pretty face more often."

Angelina rolled her eyes at the flirt, making space next to her for Y/n. "Yeah, I've asked her but she's not a huge fan of social events." She explained. "It's a miracle she's even in the Great Hall—why aren't you with Willow?"

"Oh, I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out after Divination. Turns out my detention with Professor Sprout is cancelled!" The Hufflepuff said happily, still a bit red from George's flattering.

"Hell yeah!" Angelina cheered. "I told you she loves you."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah but turning her favorite plant into a pair of heels is pushing the line."

Fred cackled. "Y/n, You did what?!"

In her head, a symphony sounded. Him just saying her name sounded like an orchestra.

Pops of warmths fidgeted around her. She had always had a crush on the Weasley, and she never really knew when it happened. She hasn't told a soul and she never would. It was just— he always seemed so happy. She had made him happy, she made him laugh.

Y/n beamed as she explained how she had gotten too caught up with her conversation with Angelina about what shoes to wear for the Yule Ball, she had completely forgotten about the spell she was casting.

"Little Chéri's a troublemaker huh?" Fred teased, scrunching up his nose.

"Chéri?!" Angelina cackled—not a fan of pet names in the slightest.

George grumbled. "Fred has been learning French so he can impress girls."

Y/n laughed, taking a sip of Angelina's water again. "I think it's cute." She bit the tip of her thumbs, an old habit of hers.

"Ever the hopeless romantic, Y/n." Angelina commented, stealing her drink back.

The four engaged in conversation until a Slytherin tapped on Y/n's shoulder. "Uh—Y/n, I think I have a fitting right now." She said awkwardly, getting glares from the Gryffindors.

"Oh!" Y/n shot up, grabbing the last strawberry off of Angelina's plate before grabbing Angelina's pen—sticking it behind her ear—and running off, dragging the Slytherin with her.

"Hey!" Angelina protested, grumbling as she bit into her toast.

"What was that about?" Fred asked, battling Ron for the last corndog.

"Huh? Oh—Y/n and I are helping organise the Ball." Angelina explained, not seeing how Fred watched her run her fingers through her hair as she grabbed another pen to do her Potions Homework. "She's helping make and tailor people's outfits."

"Y/n?" Hermione clarified, popping into the conversation. "She's ridiculously talented, she made the dress I'm wearing!"

"She made adjustments on mine!" Angelina looked at Hermione. "I didn't like how bland my dress was, so she helped bedazzled it."

"Do you think she can fix Fred's dress?" George asked, earning a punch from Fred. "Ow! No seriously though, his tie is all wonky and his pants go way past his feet. Poor bloke's gonna trip!"

Angelina laughed, packing her stuff away and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Find out yourself! I have to go check up on the Frog Choir."

Just a couple minutes later, Fred heard oddly croaky choruses from his soulmate.

●●●

Fred was trying to go the sleep that night, but all he could hear was stupid music.

When he couldn't decipher whether he was hearing it through his soulmate or if he was hearing it in the common room, he shoved his slippers on and slowly went down stairs.

As he peeked his head around the corner, he saw Angelina dancing with somebody—a CD player in the background as they laughed.

It was the same music playing in his head...Is Angelina—actually his soulmate?

He watched Angelina dance with her friend, practicing their dance for the ball before slowly going back upstairs.

Y/n and Angelina fell the floor in a heap, almost crying of laughter as Angelina stepped on Y/n's foot and then went crashing to the floor.

"So, are you planning on asking your mystery crush to the ball?" Angelina asked, rolling onto her stomach and popping the CD out.

Angelina didn't have a clue about her crush on one of the Weasley twins. Y/n refused to tell her, but she did give vague details about why she liked him so much.

"You think I have time for that?" Y/n questioned, brushing her hair. "Even if I did have the time to ask him, he's probably not even my soulmate."

"Who cares?" Angelina asked, exasperated.

Angelina was one of the people who couldn't hear music from their soulmate, it happened more than you'd think—about as common as dyslexia.

Angelina didn't give two fucks about whether the person she was dating was her soulmate, she tended to do whatever she wanted.

"Well—my soulmate is pretty cool too." Y/n protested.

"Well obviously!" Angelina retorted. "They has to be good enough for our Y/n"

"Oh stop it." Y/n laughed, throwing her hairbrush at Angelina. "I won't have time to ask someone and besides, I think he likes someone else." Y/n looked down, fiddling at the edge of her pink pyjamas.

"Your soulmate or your crush?"

"Maybe both!"

●●●

Fred woke up early today, mostly because he couldn't sleep. I mean, he just found his soulmate! This is the moment that everybody waits for, and it finally happened!

Fred was utterly in love with whoever his soulmate was. The two soulmates have sang duets with each other since they could talk—never making any action to try and find each other but Fred would be lying if he said he hadn't blasted music in his ears just to see if someone in the Great Hall would react.

His soulmate was constantly listening to music and singing songs, it comforted him whenever he heard it—especially since he's heard it since he was little.

And it was Angelina, a girl he was been trying not to crush on for ages.

Fred walked down the stairs, almost laughing when he saw Angelina.

Angelina and Y/n were completely passed out on the common room couches, paper sprawled out as they were doing a history of magic essay.

Fred shook Angelina awake. "Angie...Angie!"

Angelina fell off the bed. "What?"

Fred grinned. "I just thought you might wanna head to bed before the rest of the house wakes up."

Angelina rubbed her eyes before looking around—seeing essay papers, pens and her best friend, still sleeping as she sleepily held the tip of her thumb in her mouth and lulled herself asleep. "What time is it?"

"You have a little less than three hours before everybody else wakes up."

Angelina sighed, getting up and separating their papers and pens. "Hey, Fred?"

"Yeah?" He said hopefully.

"Can you do me a favour?"

Angelina handed him a messenger bag with little bows and gold chains decorating it, he took it without question as she continued.

"Do you think you could get Y/n to her common room? This is.. um This is the longest she's slept for a while and I don't know how to get into the Hufflepuff common room."

Fred thought for a moment—but who was he to deny his soulmate? After all, getting into the Hufflepuff dorms were easy—having learned the ins and outs of practically the whole school.

So Fred slung the bag across his shoulder and walked over to Y/n, still sleeping peacefully.

"Thank you!" Angelina grabbed her own supplies and started going up stairs. "You're the best!" She called. "I'll get you a tailoring with her today! Is dinner alright?"

Fred nodded, slowly picked Y/n up, putting her on the couch so he could give her a piggy back ride to her common room. "Hold on..."

Almost as if her sleeping body could hear it, Y/n's body tensed up, making it easier for Fred to carry.

So Fred walked out of the Gryffindor dormitories and started walking in the halls to go to the Hufflepuff common room.

The sun had barely risen, shining dull lights into the hallway and Fred felt Y/n shift in her sleep—ignoring how his skin fluttered as her breath rolled on top of it.

Fred almost stopped walking as Y/n shifted once more, making a small whimper, trying to pull her hand closer to her face.

"Chéri, if you move your hand, you're gonna fall—okay?" Fred said softly, adjusting his grip on her legs, making sure she wouldn't slip.

Y/n hummed in response, tucking her head on Fred's shoulder as he kept on walking.

Fred was halfway to the common room—walking slowly as to not wake up Y/n when he froze.

Having her thumb clasped between her fingers around Fred's chest, supporting her upper body weight—Fred felt her head twitching, needing something to soothe her to sleep.

Not wanting to have to explain the situation to the sleeping girl or disappoint Angelina—Fred adjusted the girl, now giving her a piggy-front, letting Y/n head sit comfortably against his neck.

Fred debated checking whether his face was on fire when the sleeping girl began to press little kisses on his neck, trying to substitute something for her thumb.

Fred continued walking, but why was he so flustered?

Maybe it’s his soulmate’s best friend.

What was her name again? Y/n?

Fred knocked on the Hufflepuff dorm door in the tune of Helga Hufflepuff. Before walking in and taking the stairs to the girl’s dormitory.

Trying not to feel awkward, he searched the dorm labels until he saw it.

______________

Girls Dorm #207

- Susan Bones

- Lia Diggory

- Y/n L/n

______________

Praising Merlin that she didn’t have too many roommates— He knocked on the door a few times, jumping up again to make sure Y/n didn’t slip.

"Hello?" A small voice asked, a very tired red head opened the door.

Fred gave an award smile. "I have a delivery?"

The girl smiled before letting him in and pointing at the empty bed and messed up desk.

Feed walked over, clutching on to Y/n as he quickly flipped the blanket open and tucked her instead. Y/n immediately latched onto the blankets.

Fred smiled before looking at her desk—tons of dress designs a long with tons of reminders everywhere when a certain one caught his eyes.

The Weasley Twins Inspired Dress

Curious, he picked up the sketch to see that she managed to make a confetti canon dress, inspired by that time he and George covered the Slytherin team in confetti right before a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.

"I think you're cute together," Susan whispered bashfully, her cheeks pink.

"Oh no," her face fell when Fred denied it. "I already found my soulmate today."

"Oh I'm sorry." Susan apologised, combing her hair. "I just thought your h—never mind." She began to point at her neck before waving it off. "I assume you know how to take care of it?"

"Yeah! I'm planning on asking her to the yule ball!" Fred said, not having any idea what Susan was talking about.

"What? Ya know what—" Susan dug through her make up bag before grabbing Fred's arm and swatching some concealer shades. "You're lucky, you're my winter shade." Susan tossed Fred a concealer wand before shooing him out. "Bye!"

Holding onto the concealer, extremely confused, Fred walked back to him common room before going into the bathroom.

"Shit." Fred vocalised, realising why Susan Bones has thrown him concealer.

A light hickey lay on the side of his neck where Y/n had been.

Fred spent the next two hours trying to figure out how concealer worked.

He didn't understand it—instead opting for a scarf instead to cover up the blotchy disaster he created on his neck.

●●●

Y/n genuinely didn't question why she woke up in her bed and more concerned on her planner—you could see her running up and down the halls all day.

"Professor Moody, may I borrow Ron Weasley please?"

Ron showed her his suit for the ball. "Never mind, you're beyond help. Professor Moody, you can have him back." Y/n said, scribbling something out in her planner.

Taking the stairs, Y/n just started walking—flipping to the back of her planner to edit some sketches and ideas for dresses—not noticing the stair cases changing directions.

Walking up and down and sideways along the halls, Y/n kept walking until she bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry!" She said automatically only to be shushed by two voices. "Huh—?"

""SHH!" Y/n looked at the two Weasley twins.

"Why?" She asked, looking around to see nobody.

"I don' know," Fred admitted.

"We're skipping, so I assume we have to be quiet." George finished.

The Hufflepuff scoffed. "I'm not skipping. I did all my work in advance so I could focus of the dress making." She looked down at the planner. "And on that note—you have a appointment with me in two minutes. We can't be late!"

"Does that mean you have the answers?" Fred asked as he got dragged away.

"We can discuss answers after we're on time for our session."

"If it's our appointment, how can we be late?"

Y/n sighed, shaking her head. “It’s fine we’re almost there, Willow’s gonna be upset.”

“Who?”

Y/n dragged Fred near a tree where a small desk, mannequins and color swatches were, Y/n thrust Fred upon a little platform until tree branches began to swing around chaotically.

“Willow! Calm down! This isn’t Ron! This is a different Weasley!” Y/n started yelling.

“Willow? As in the Whomping Willow?!”

“Stop moving!” Y/n snapped, petting the branches. “Willow didn’t like it when your brother nearly killed her with a car. I think she has like— Weasley trauma.”

Fred cackled. “Weasley trauma?” A tree branch slapped the back of his head. “Hey!”

“She’s very sensitive.” Y/n defended. “Speaking of Ron, please tell me your suit isn’t as hideous.”

“Don’t worry— I just have a normal suit… I wasn’t sure if I should’ve brought it so I just wore it—”

“That’s perfect. Mind shrugging off the jacket and scarf?”

Nervously, Fred took off the scarf and jacket, revealing the concealer mess on his neck.

“Oh sweetie, what the hell happened to your neck!” Y/n cooed. "Goodness, let me help you. You're gonna break out... Accio makeup kit!"

"I have every shade under the sun, I'm helping people with their makeup too." Y/n waved her hand down. "Get down, off." Y/n stepped onto the platform as Fred stepped off, facing Y/n.

Y/n took a makeup wipe and cleaned up the spot before taking out a whisk and spinning it on the hickey.

"When did you learn how to hide hickey? Does that even work?" Fred asked, watching the metal kitchen utensil.

"Oh hush, it's common knowledge." Y/n pushed his face away, continuing to whisk. "It helps the blood disperse. Next time, put ice on it before it bruises."

Shade matching and blending it in, Y/n hoped Fred couldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest as she finished hiding the red mark. "See? Like it never even happened."

Willow presented a mirror for Fred to see for himself, thank god because that scarf was very itchy.

"Now, how much are we thinking off the tie?" Y/n held up a tape measure and a sharpie, tucking the sharpie behind her ear. "It supposed to be around your belt buckle...Do you feel comfortable with it over here?"

Fred nodded, looking at her in the mirror more than him. Why hadn't he seen her more often? Has she been friends with Angelina for a long time?

"Lovely...okay do you mind if I take this?" Y/n took the colorful tie off Fred and held it up to Willow." Willow, this is Fred's tie." Willow held onto the tie.

"Okay just one second..." Y/n brought out a sheet of brown fabric and a sheet of black fabric and hopped onto the platform with him. She pulled the black one around half of his chest and the brown one around the other half.

"Okay so I think the brown is more flattering on you, I feel like you look paler with the black one—Hey!"

Fred's head started tilting to one side as he imagined Angelina and her hanging out—still in disbelief he had actually found his soulmate.

Y/n grabbed his jaw and moved it so that it faced her. "Sorry, I just need to see—" Y/n furrowed her eyebrows confused as Fred pointed at something in the distance behind her.

Y/n looked behind her only for her jaw to pulled back and facing Fred, pulling the same move she had accidentally done to him. "Touché," She smiled—desperately hoping she wasn't blushing.

"How long have you friends with Angelina?" Fred asked, snapping Y/n out of her mental freakout.

"Oh—uh, since first year. We met on the train." Y/n cast a spell to turn Fred's suit brown. "Yeah that looks better—you looked like you were going to a funeral."

“Then why do I never see you guys hang out?”

Y/n thinks before answering. “I like to keep myself busy, that or I just eat in the kitchen.”

“Why not hang out with Angelina?”

“Uh- Well Alicia and I don’t really get along so I don’t want to make it weird for Angelina. Besides, most of the time Angelina hangs out with me in the kitchen.”

So that’s why Fred never sees Angelina in the Great hall. “Why the kitchen?”

“Because the house elves love me.” Y/n smiled, writing her to do list. “Besides, I like baking.”

Fred stepped off the platform and watched Y/n write. “Do you bake any of the food in the Great Hall?”

“The brownies, but sometimes I also cook the ribs but I like baking more than cooking.”

Fred loves the brownies, he eats them every time they show up on the table.

“Speaking of food… It’s dinner, you better hurry before all the seats are taken.” Y/n starting putting things away and getting out a dress presumingly belonging to her next appointment.

Fred stepped off the small platform, checking his covered hickey once more before starting to turn around. "You aren't going to dinner?"

"Maybe later." She responded quickly, casting a spell on the dress. "Not hungry. " She said briefly. "You can pick up your tie by like tomorrow."

"Alright then, I'll see you around?"

"Sure. Angelina! Can you grab that?" A piece of fabric swirled away in the wind near an approaching Angelina.

Fred walked away, happy with his day and his fitting appointment.

(A/N lmao I have nooooo idea how to end these. Part two could be ready tomorrow or in 3 months, we'll see.)

[railingsofsorrow]

(not so) stupid things

[spencer reid x reader]

A/N: hi! this is my entry for the CM meet cute challenge created by the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins

summary: the one where reader is a detective responsible for a case the FBI is called to work on and as they try to make a good first impression, it slips their mind that one of them does not shake hands.

or... based on the eighteenth episode of criminal minds' S8.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 1.7K

warnings/content: anxiety (implied); case related violence; mentions of injuries and blood; mentions of needles; two awkward people (try) flirting; fluff; language.

navi

masterpost

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.”

“O-oh,” you stutter out, blinking in surprise and immediately drawing your hand back. How could you have forgotten this?

Your boss had told you some important information about the team you were going to work with: the Behavior Analysis Unit. It completely slipped your mind who the “Doctor who doesn't shake hands” was. You just vaguely knew Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi, but the rest was a bunch of strangers you hadn't connected the name to the face yet. That included the Doctor who was giving you a tight-lipped smile and had sputtered out the most quick statistics data you had ever heard.

Did he just said kissing is safer than shaking hands?

The blonde sighed, her glare towards Dr. Reid softening when she turns to you. She offers her hand and you take it with a light chuckle.

“That's just Spencer's way of saying he doesn't shake hands.” She clarifies. “I'm Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ.” She introduced herself and then proceeds to do the same with the rest of the team. You finally connect the name to the face and you feel more at ease.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say. “I've prepared a room for you to set in during the investigation.” You lead them to the bigger roundtable room you had in the station and wait for them to scatter around to start listing the findings of the case you had until now.

They had a quick way of thinking – it was the first thought that went through your mind as you observed each Agent throw a possibility on why the crimes were happening and the reasoning for the M.O as well. It kind of amazed you how connected they seemed to be to have reached that adjustment within themselves.

The first lead took you to a museum. Your main goal there was to find anything on the suspect you've been following. That required you to speak to one of the museum tour guides who apparently had contact with them as you saw in one of the security cameras.

“How long have you been doing this?”

You immediately grimace at the invasive and completely inappropriate question that leaves your mouth. You couldn't help saying stupid shit when you were nervous. The FBI made you nervous. You had been chasing the suspect for more than three months and only now you were able to find a pattern in their behavior. Obviously, you weren't working alone, but you still feel dumb for not having noticed what is clearly obvious in federal agents’ eyes.

“Doing what?”

Your attention snaps back from the crowd of people to him, whose head was slightly tilted in confusion. The question you made escaping your mind for a second. “Oh. I— Actually. You don't have to answer that, I'm sorry.” Cheeks burning and hands sweating weren't a great combo right now. Your witness still hadn't stepped away from the group of children so you had to wait.

“It's okay.” He shrugs, burying his hands on his pockets. His eyes fall into your fidgety hands and he's familiarized with the feeling of being uncomfortable in big crowds. The museum was full, which was unusual according to you. “Mhm, did you mean how long have I been in the FBI?”

You hum quietly, arms folding across your chest.

“Seven years, five months and twenty-one days.” Your lips part in astonishment.

“Seven years?” You ask, dumbfounded. Spencer nods in affirmation. “You look like a college student—” you quickly cover your mouth with a hand, your cursing being muffled by it. “Sorry, I'm sorry. That came out wrong, I just meant that you look young and—”

“No, no, it's okay.” Spencer chuckled, amused by the whole thing. “I do get that a lot. Technically, I am a college student. I'm on my third PhD.”

Have you just met the next Einstein?

“How do you do it?” You say in wonder. “I mean, I went through college one time and I couldn't wait to get far from it as I possibly could and—” you were interrupted by the sound of his laugh, his eyes crinkling at the sides caused you to smile a little. You realize your shoulders were less tense and you could actually feel your feet again.

Spencer clears his throat before responding, his face carries a soft flush and you find it endearing. “I like studying.” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your eyes narrow at the tour guide, who you were supposed to talk to, stealthily disappearing into a hallway. This is how you end up running around a museum chasing someone that had just moved up to be the primer suspect in an ongoing investigation.

“You okay there?” Agent Morgan's voice pulled your gaze away from the medic stitching up your wrist.

Luckily, you and Doctor Reid succeeded in catching the museum tour guide, leading you to find out that the murders in the city were actually premeditated by two people, not just one. But that didn't go smoothly, the unsub — a curious name the BAU used, you've never heard it before — had a knife in their possession. Just as you were about to snatch it away from their reach while Spencer talked him down, your skin earned a slice right on your wrist because you were bold enough to tackle them to the floor.

Not a nice feeling, but you faced similar situations before, so that wasn't out of the ordinary. That didn't mean you enjoyed the feeling of being poked around.

“I'm fine,” you give him a grateful nod. “Just a scratch.” The image of the BAU's genius flash through your brain. “Huh, is Doctor Reid okay? I'm pretty sure he almost got one of these in his face.” You refer to your cut that was currently being dealt with.

Something that you can't recognize twinkle in the Agent's eyes. Amusement? Smugness? “Oh, Reid's alright. He's actually been asking non-stop about y—”

“Morgan.”

You see his smirk increase when Spencer strides over to where you are. The two share a look that you can't translate due to the tickling of the needle in your sensitive skin.

He's sitting beside you in no time and you're about to say that he doesn't have to bother, but he beats you to it.

“Up to 1 in 10 adults struggle with needles. 16% of them actually avoid getting vaccines because of their trypanophobia.” You look at Spencer as he inhales to keep rambling. “Studies show that many people grow out of that fear, but some remain with it.”

“Clearly,” you mumble, embarrassement causing your neck and cheeks to become red.

His eyes widen and he quickly raises his hands, “Oh, no! That's not what I— I didn't mean to—” he sighs as your lips try to hold back a smile. “I tend to say stupid things when I'm nervous.”

The medic says you're good to go and that's your cue to let out the breath you've been holding in instant relief as you can not longer see the needle. You thank them and step out of the ambulance.

“Like claiming that kissing someone is safer than shaking their hand?”

He stumbles upon an answer which takes you to a laughing fit that attracts some attention. You ignore the ugly looks in order to focus on a warm touch on your shoulder, stopping you from bumping into a police officer.

“Sorry, I was messing with you,” you say slightly breathless, your shoulder tingling where his hand lay. “I say stupid things when I'm nervous, too. I guess we have that in common.” Spencer is grinning when he pulls his hand back. You wonder what his thinking as his eyes travel across your features.

Maybe he's finally concluded that I'm a fool.

“Why would you be nervous?” You look away at a passerby to avoid his stare.

“Nothing, I—” he swallows, folding his arms and unfolding them right after. You don't need to be a profiler to realize he's nervous.

Your slow pace halts when he stops following you. You wait for him to sputter out random statistics or literally anything except for what he says next.

“Can I have your number?” He croaks out. “I thought that it wouldn't be unprofessional after the case was over because technically we aren't working anymore and— you know what? Never mind, forget I said—”

“Doctor Reid,” you say carefully. He clips his mouth shut. “Yes, you can have my number.” He lets out a soft oh and you smile. You ruffle through your pockets to find a pen and when you do find, you silently ask for his hand and he raises it towards you, confusion drawing his brows together.

He feels a tickling sensation as you write your number down on his open palm.

“There.” You offer him a smile to which he replies with one of his own as his eyes scan your scribbling on his hand. A vibration in your blazer forces a heavy sigh to leave your lips. You apologize as you grab your phone. “Ah, yes. I'm— I'll be there.” You turn to Spencer with a disappointed look after the call ends. “Sorry, I have a lot of reports to finish and they need me in the station.”

“It's okay.” He nods. “I understand.”

You don't leave right away though, hesitating in your step. He just as awkwardly stands there. Are you back in high school or something? When have you ever been that shy?

“So, I'll see you around?” You ask.

He outstretches a hand to your surprise, “Yes.” When you accept it, your fingers tingle at his soft skin. Both of you draw yourselves back at the same time. “Bye, Detective.”

You wave at him, already retracting to leave to avoid further embarrassment. “Bye, Doctor.”

You can't help the giddy feeling in your chest as you walk back to your car. A few hours later, your phone screen flashes with an unknown number.

[orchidniins]

oh i NEED pt 2 of Serendipitous Beginnings🙏

Serendipitous Beginnings Pt. 2 | Arthur Frederick

Summary: Y/N and Arthur finally spend some much time together and go on their first date. Between movie nights and cute museum dates, it's clear they've fallen hard for each other. Pairings: ArthurTV x afab!Reader Warnings: Mature content, Smut, Fluff Word Count: 6k

A/N: Thanks to everyone who showed love on my first post! I wanted to write a part 2 for this with all the cute little ideas in my head. This fic is basically a little collection of events and just a little sprinkle of smut right at the end. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You awaken on Saturday, later than your usual wake-up time, feeling a faint headache throbbing behind your temples. Despite the headache, your mind is abuzz with the memories of last night's conversations with Arthur. The lingering memories of the night's events are still fresh in your mind.

As you reach for your phone, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips, eager to see if Arthur had messaged you. Sure enough, his name lights up your screen, and you can't help but feel a rush of happiness as you read his message. The two of you had stayed up pretty much all night texting, the conversation flowing effortlessly between you.

Eventually, it was mutually decided to stop texting and finally catch some sleep, but now, even with maybe only two hours of sleep, you're still buzzing with excitement to keep the conversation going. You couldn't help but grin at your phone, fingers tapping out quick replies

Arthur: Hey! Morning! 😊 Arthur: Did you manage to get any sleep in? Y/N: Hey! Good Morning 😊 Y/N: Yeah, I did. Just barely. Did you sleep well? Arthur: Yeah, I managed to get a few hours in too. Couldn't stop thinking about our conversation though. Y/N: Haha, same here! I guess we'll just have to continue it in person, huh? 😉 Arthur: Did you wanna maybe grab some lunch today? Y/N: That sounds great! I'd love to. Where were you thinking? Arthur: How about that place we talked about yesterday? Y/N: Perfect! Can't wait 😊

Eagerly agreeing to meet Arthur for lunch, excitement courses through you at the thought of spending more time with him. However, as you're about to set your phone down, a sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. You had completely forgotten about your plans with Sienna to meet up with a mutual friend who was in town for the weekend.

Y/N: Hey, Arthur! I'm so sorry, but something's come up for today. Can we reschedule for tomorrow? Arthur: Oh, no worries! Tomorrow won't work for me, I've got a shoot scheduled. Y/N: Ah, got it. No problem. Maybe another time then? Arthur: Definitely! Let's figure something out soon. 😊

After a bit more back-and-forth, the conversation trails off, leaving you feeling disappointed that your plans with Arthur didn't pan out. With a sigh, you set your phone aside and get out of bed, heading towards Sienna's bedroom to check in on her.

Entering her room, you find her sprawled out on the bed, half of her body hanging off the edge, her hair messy and makeup smeared. You try to wake her up gently, but she protests, murmuring, "No, not yet, five more minutes."

"Siii," you say, nudging her shoulder, "you know I turned down a date for this lunch today, so you better get up, or I'm gonna have to use violence." Sienna groans in response, still half-asleep, but your mention of a date piques her interest. "A date? What do you mean, a date?" she asks, her eyes fluttering open as she tries to grasp the situation.

You chuckle at her confusion. "I was just kidding, but we better make it to that café on time. You're the one who insisted we go there, even if it's a 50-minute drive from here. Now, get up." Sienna, still groggy, fixates on the idea of a date. "Okay, but what date?" she mumbles, her words slurred with sleep.

With a laugh, you shake your head and say, "Nothing, just get ready," before leaving her room to get ready yourself.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

Over the next few days, despite the promise to meet up, neither you nor Arthur seemed to find the time. It had been over a week since the initial plan was made, and your schedules were keeping you both occupied. Arthur had spent a few days away from London for a shoot, while your own commitments to classes, coursework, and your TA job filled your days from dawn till dusk.

The conversation between you over text seemed to flow effortlessly though. Whether it was during breaks between classes or late at night after a long day of work, hours slipped by unnoticed as you traded stories, shared interests, and laughed at each other's jokes. Even through the screen, you felt like there was undeniable chemistry.

In person, however, it was a different story. Whenever you crossed paths with Arthur in person, whether for the few minutes you had while entering or leaving your apartment, the atmosphere became charged with a hint of awkwardness. Your face-to-face interactions were tinged with an unspoken tension. Probably owing to the fact that neither of you had addressed the hot and steamy kiss shared the other night, leaving many unanswered questions. And neither of you knew how to broach the subject, leaving the issue lingering between you like an elephant in the room.

Today, you're rushing out of your apartment, a whirlwind of activity as you stuff papers into your backpack, your mind preoccupied with the evening class you volunteered to handle for a professor.

You stand outside the elevator, tapping your foot impatiently, waiting for the doors to open. As they slide open, you're about to step in when you're met with Arthur's smiling face.

"Hey," Arthur greets you warmly, his eyes brightening at the sight of you.

"Hey," you reply, mustering a smile as you step into the elevator beside him.

"How're things going?" Arthur asks, his voice laced with genuine interest.

"All good," you respond, offering a brief nod. "Just heading to TA for an evening class."

Arthur nods in understanding. "You've been pretty occupied lately, huh?"

You chuckle softly. "Yeah, well you know… Where are you off to?"

"I'm meeting some friends for a drink.", Arthur responds.

"That sounds fun," you say, though inwardly you can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that your paths are diverging once again.

The elevator ride continues in silence, the awkward tension lingering between you like a thick fog. You bite your tongue, racking your brain for something to say to break the uneasy atmosphere. Finally, just as the elevator doors slide open, you blurt out, "Are you free tomorrow night?"

Arthur's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Um, I think so," he replies, sounding intrigued.

"I was thinking of having a movie marathon," you explain, feeling a surge of nervous energy. "And I was hoping to have someone along for it."

A hint of a smile plays at the corners of Arthur's lips. "That sounds like a plan," he says, his eyes brightening with interest. "What were you thinking of watching?"

You grin, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "How about 'The Lord of the Rings'?" you suggest eagerly.

Arthur's eyes light up at the suggestion. "Yes! I love Lord of the Rings. Have you watched the extended versions? If not, we could watch those," he says, genuine excitement in his voice.

Just as excited, you reply, "Yeah! I’d love that."

"Great, sounds like a plan," Arthur confirms with enthusiasm.

Feeling a weight lift off your shoulders, you say, "My place tomorrow? I’ll text you the time."

"Definitely. I'll see you then," Arthur replies.

With that, you bid Arthur goodbye as you step out of the elevator, feeling a sense of excitement building in your chest. Maybe this movie marathon would finally give you the chance to address the elephant in the room and see where things could go with Arthur. But your thoughts are interrupted by the fact that you didn't want to be late to set up for class. You wave him goodbye and head out.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

Before you know it, the day of your movie night arrives. You make sure to stock up on snacks and drinks, preparing for a cozy evening. With Sienna out of the city for work till next week, you have the place all to yourself. You take the time to set up the couch with extra pillows and grab an additional blanket from Sienna's room, ensuring everything is just right for your evening with Arthur.

However, for a fleeting moment, you can't help but overthink why you're going to such lengths. It's not like this was a date, just two friends hanging out. But you quickly brush off the thought when you hear a knock on your door. Taking a deep breath to shake off the nerves, you stride over to the door and swing it open, revealing Arthur standing on the other side.

"Hey!" he greets you with a warm smile, holding up a bag of snacks. "I brought some snacks for movie night. Hope you like popcorn and chocolate!"

You return his smile, feeling relieved at the sight of him. "That's perfect! Come on in," you say, stepping aside to let him enter. "I've set up the living room for our movie marathon. Make yourself at home."

As Arthur steps in, you close the door behind him, trying your best to calm your nerves. Tonight was supposed to be fun, you remind yourself, a simple movie watching experience between friends. Definitely not a date, just two friends hanging out.

You settle onto the couch, gesturing for Arthur to join you. He takes off his jacket and joins you. There's a brief moment of silence as you both get comfortable, but you're determined to keep the atmosphere light.

"So, how's your week been?" you asked, turning to Arthur in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

Arthur leaned back against the cushions, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Kind of busy," he replied with a chuckle. "Filming schedules have been hectic lately, but it's been pretty fun filming with my mates. How about you?"

You shrugged, a wry smile playing on your lips. "Same old, same old. Classes, TA gig, grading papers, dealing with undergrads….," You trail off, not wanting to bore him with the details of your day-to-day responsibilities.

But Arthur seems genuinely interested. "I bet you're great at it though," he says, leaning closer, his eyes sparkling with sincerity.

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words, grateful for his encouragement. "Haha, thanks, Arthur," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, your eyes locked with his.

As the movie progressed, you found yourselves immersed in discussing your favorite scenes and characters. The initial awkwardness began to dissipate, replaced by an easy flow of conversation and laughter, and soon the movie became nothing more than background noise.

Before long, you realized that as the conversation flowed, you were sitting much closer to Arthur. Your knees brushed against each other as you faced one another on the couch. His arm draped over the back, his fingers lightly grazing your shoulder, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

Lost in the moment, you couldn't help but wonder why you had ever felt awkward around him in the first place. It felt as though the universe had conspired to bring you together. The desire to kiss him again bubbled up inside you, igniting a warmth that spread through your entire being.

With each passing second, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the palpable tension between you, leaving you hopeful that perhaps Arthur felt the same way.

In the silence that followed, the air between you seemed charged with anticipation. Slowly, almost hesitantly, the two of you leaned in towards each other, the space between you narrowing with each heartbeat.

His gaze met yours, "This feels familiar," Arthur murmured, breaking the silence. You couldn't help but laugh, relieved that at least one of you had acknowledged it.

"Does it now?" you replied, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "So, you do remember."

"How could I forget?" Arthur's voice was barely above a whisper, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "It's been on my mind ever since."

As he leaned in closer, a surge of excitement coursed through you. "Well, good then," you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. Without hesitation, his lips meet yours.

You shifted closer, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. With a gentle but firm grip, he pulled you onto his lap, your bodies fitting together perfectly as if they were meant to be intertwined. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

You melt into each other in a passionate kiss, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your own private universe. His lips were soft, moving with a rhythm that matched yours. With each brush of his lips, it sends the blood rushing down to your core.

Lost in the heat of the kiss, you pressed yourself closer to him. Tangling your hands in his soft hair, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, the warmth of his body against yours.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you found yourself lost in his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. And you couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at you with such intensity.

As you both caught your breath, a wave of relief washed over you, the tension that had been building between you finally dissipating. With a gentle smile, he breaks the silence, his voice soft but determined. "Let me take you on a proper date," he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Okay," you chuckle softly, feeling excited at his words, a fluttering in your stomach as you look back at him. "I’m free this Friday," you reply, your voice filled with warmth. With a playful smile, you lean in and give him a little peck on the lips.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

You were thrilled when Arthur suggested meeting at the history museum after class, eagerly looking forward to spending time together. You even took the extra effort to dress up a bit for the occasion. However, as you hurriedly made your way there, excitement turned to frustration as you realized you were running late. The class you were assisting in had unexpectedly extended, leaving you racing against time as the museum's closing hour approached. You quickly texted Arthur, apologizing for the delay and assured him that you were on your way, determined to make it there as soon as possible.

Y/N: Hey, sorry I'm running a bit late 😅 Y/N: Class ran over, but I'll be there soon! Arthur: No worries at all. I'm just glad you can make it Arthur: Take your time 😊

With determination, you quicken your pace, determined not to let the opportunity slip away. As you finally arrive at the museum, you spot Arthur waiting patiently outside the entrance. He looks great, dressed in a nice crewneck sweatshirt and black cargos, it makes your heart skip a beat at just how good he looked.

You hurry over to him, eager to make up for lost time. "Hey!" you exclaim, a wide smile spreading across your face as you reach him.

"Hey," Arthur greets you warmly, his eyes lighting up with genuine delight at the sight of you. He opens his arms, inviting you into a warm embrace.

You gladly accept the hug, reveling in his warmth and the comforting scent of his cologne. "Sorry I'm late," you say softly, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze.

Arthur shakes his head, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "No need to apologize. I'm just happy you're here now," he assures you, his voice filled with warmth.

You feel a surge of relief at his response. "Thanks for waiting," you say gratefully, reaching out to give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Arthur squeezes your hand back, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Of course, it's no problem. We can always do something else if the museum's closed," he suggests, ever the considerate gentleman, despite the museum being almost 15 mins past closing.

But you shake your head, determined not to let the evening go to waste. "No, no, just trust me on this," you insist.

Arthur raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your enthusiasm. "Alright… I trust you," he says with a smile, willing to go along with your plan.

With a grin, you take Arthur's hand and lead him towards the side entrance of the museum. As you walk, you quickly glance at your phone to confirm the last-minute plans one final time, the ones you made on the subway over, sending a quick text message. Then, slipping your phone back into your pocket, you look up to flash Arthur a smile, and he returns it with warmth in his eyes.

You head to the side entrance and spot your friend. Waving enthusiastically, you exchange greetings and shake hands, expressing your gratitude once again. "Thank you again, I owe you big time," you say appreciatively.

"Not a problem at all," your friend responds warmly as he lets the two of you in "Anything for a friend. Just make sure to leave before 8 p.m."

You nod in agreement and turn to Arthur, excitement bubbling within you as you lead him inside. His curious gaze prompts you to explain the situation. "That guy was an old graduate advisor of mine," you begin, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "He's works here as a curator now."

Arthur's eyes widen with interest as he looks around, taking in the museum's atmosphere. "I have to say… that’s quite impressive," he remarks, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, his job's pretty cool," you reply, nodding in agreement.

But Arthur interrupts you before you can say anything further. "No, not that�� you. You are quite surprising… in a good way," he adds with a playful smirk, his hand still holding yours. You feel a blush creeping up to your cheeks at his compliment.

You chuckle softly, feeling shy at his words, "Just give me more time to impress you further with my wildly interesting mind," you playfully quip, unable to contain the grin that spreads across your face.

Arthur's smile widens in response, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he admires your playful banter.

Turning away to hide your embarrassment, you reply, "Anyways, we have two hours now… best not waste any time," as you pull him towards the main hall.

The museum is bathed in the soft glow of a few lights, casting a gentle ambiance over the now empty hall. Excitement courses through you as you eagerly lead Arthur around, pointing out each exhibit with enthusiasm. Arthur listens intently, his eyes filled with genuine interest as he witnesses how passionate you sound.

With each second passing, he finds himself increasingly impressed by just how intelligent you are, finding himself melting at each of your words.

He often found himself just looking at you, mesmerized by your beauty, and sometimes forgetting to even glance at the displays. It still felt surreal to him that you were here with him right now.

"You know," you share, a hint of nostalgia coloring your voice, "when I was a kid, my dad used to bring me here whenever he had work in the city. He’d always bring me along with him."

"It's always been one of my favorite places in London," you conclude with a smile.

Arthur smiles warmly, his admiration evident as he responds, "I can see why."

As the two of you continue to explore the halls, the world outside the museum fades away, leaving you in your own private sanctuary. Stolen glances, brushes of hands, and a shared electricity fill the air, making this the most enjoyable date you've ever had.

As the evening progresses, you find yourselves completely immersed in each other's company, sharing stories and laughing without a care in the world. Arthur's admiration for you grows with each passing moment, his heart feeling lighter in your presence. Lost in the magic of the moment, you both find yourselves laughing and running around the museum halls, creating memories that will last a lifetime. Arthur captures candid photos of you, the echoes of your laughter filling the empty corridors.

Caught up in the magic of the moment, Arthur can't help but stare at you with admiration, his eyes drinking in your beauty. You stand before a display of jade artifacts, leaning closer to examine the intricate details, while sharing a story about a similar find or an excavation you volunteered on last year. "This is fascinating, isn’t it?" you remark, turning to Arthur with a sparkle in your eyes.

As you await his response, you're met with a lingering gaze, his eyes intense and unwavering. Feeling a warmth spread across your cheeks, you can't help but inquire with a small chuckle, "What?"

"You know," he begins, his voice soft with sincerity, "you're absolutely stunning."

You chuckle at his compliment, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. "Oh, stop it," you tease, playfully nudging him. "You're not so bad yourself."

His gaze remains fixed on you, his expression filled with genuine affection. "I mean it," he insists, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're truly amazing."

You meet his gaze, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "Well, I guess I can't argue with that," you joke, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "But I must say, you're not so bad at dishing out compliments either." You pause, your tone softening. "Thanks, Arthur."

Arthur smiles warmly, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of his words. "Anytime," he replies, his hand squeezing yours gently. "I just call it like I see it."

With a contented sigh, you fully face him now, reveling in the comfortable silence that envelops you both. The quiet of the museum amplifies the intimacy of the moment, and you find yourself drawn to Arthur, his presence filling you with warmth and affection.

Arthur leans in closer, his heart pounding in his chest as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. As he pulls away slightly, his breath tickling your skin.

You smile back at him, your cheeks flushed as your hand finds the back of his head, gently pulling him closer. As your lips meet his, you eagerly return the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips against yours. In that moment, nothing else matters, not caring about the passing time or potential interruptions.

As you reluctantly pull away, a soft smile plays on your lips. "It's getting late," you murmur, glancing at your watch. "A lot later than we were supposed to stay."

Arthur rests his forehead against yours, smiling down at you. "Okay, let's head back," he suggests, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.

"But hey, how about we grab dinner on the way back?" you suggest, a playful glint lighting up Arthur's eyes as he nods eagerly.

With a smile, you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers as you make your way out of the museum. As you walk, you take a moment to text your friend, expressing your gratitude for letting the two of you sneak in and apologizing for overstaying your welcome.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

After leaving the museum, the two of you walked a few blocks to a cozy restaurant nearby, to grab some food before you sadly had to end your date. The warm glow of the restaurant's interior welcomed you as you stepped inside, finding a quiet corner to enjoy your meal together.

As you savored each bite and shared lighthearted conversation, it became evident that neither of you were quite ready to end the evening just yet. With a reluctant sigh, you eventually found yourselves back in the lobby of your apartment building, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air as you stood side by side, nerves buzzing beneath the surface. Unable to resist the urge any longer, you finally turned to Arthur, your voice tinged with nervousness. "Do you want to come back to mine?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

Arthur's gaze met yours, his eyes reflecting a hint of apprehension. Slowly, he nodded his head, his own nerves evident.

He had been to your place before, but tonight felt different, the stakes somehow higher, or perhaps that was just the horny part of his brain taking over. He wanted nothing more than to be glued by your side, yet he also wanted to be respectful of your boundaries, especially after the wonderful time you had today.

A nervous chuckle escaped him as he tried to ease the tension. "I'd love to," he replied with a slight voice crack. You couldn't help but laugh, your laughter bubbling up uncontrollably, joined by his as you both shared in the moment, breaking the tension that had settled between you.

As soon as you and Arthur step into your apartment, the door closes behind you with a soft click, enveloping you both in the intimate glow of the dimly lit space. The air feels somewhat thicker, and though you had spent quite a cute and romantic evening, all you could think about was just how much you wanted him right now.

As if on autopilot, your body moves on its own accord. You close the distance between you in an instant, pressing your lips against his. Your hands instinctively find their way to his firm chest, while his slowly rise to grasp your waist, pulling you closer as you usher him further into the apartment. The kiss is hungry and urgent, reflecting the desire between you two.

You continue to kiss each other, your lips locked in a fervent kiss. Occasionally, you break apart just long enough to catch your breath. As the heat between you grows, your hands roam eagerly.

In the midst of your passionate exchange, you manage to breathe out a whispered "Bedroom," your warm breath grazing his skin, sending shivers down his spine. Without hesitation, you both stumble together towards the bedroom, both of you equally as eager.

Once you're in your bedroom, you guide him to sit on the edge of the bed, your movements fluid and confident. You position yourself between his legs, feeling the heat radiating from his body as his hands find their place on your hips, pulling you closer.

You lean in, capturing his lips again, igniting a fiery passion between you. His hands trail up the back of your shirt, leaving tingles in their wake as you deepen the kiss, your fingers tangling in his soft, fluffy hair.

With newfound boldness, his hands move down to your ass, giving it a teasing squeeze that sends a jolt of electricity through you, before he trails his hands down to the back of your thighs.

Arthur pulls you onto his lap, a low hum escaping his lips as you shuffle over his growing arousal. You bite down on his bottom lip, a gasp escaping you as you feel the hardness beneath his clothes. "God, Arthur," you breathe out, your voice heavy with desire as his hands continue to knead the soft flesh of your thighs.

As your shirts come off in the heat of the moment, your hands eagerly explore his body, tracing every contour and eliciting soft groans from him. His mouth and tongue muffle your shuddering gasp as you grind yourself against his clothed crotch, the friction sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Your kisses grow more passionate, tongues intertwining, exploring each other's mouths desperately.

You pant out his name, your body overtaken by the intense sensation, but Arthur suddenly pulls away from the kiss and grips your hips firmly, halting your movements. Confusion clouds your expression, wondering if this wasn't what he wanted after all.

He notices the flicker of self-doubt in your eyes, his hand instinctively reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his smile as reassuring as ever. "Don't worry, darling," he begins, his voice gentle yet earnest. "I love what we're doing, don’t get me wrong…big fan of sex, and you are incredibly sexy. But I just want to make sure you know that I like you very much, Y/n. I mean, really like you. This is more than just something physical for me. I love spending time with you, and I think you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the opportunity to lay my eyes on."

You melt at his heartfelt words, a blush creeping up on your cheeks at his sincerity. Arthur's genuine expression reassures you, his intent clear as day. It's endearing how he takes the time to ensure there's no doubt in your mind about his feelings.

You reach for his face, holding it gently between your hands as you stare deeply into his captivating eyes. "I really like you too, you know," you admit, sincerity echoing in your voice. "I don't just jump into bed with any odd guy." A smile dances on your lips as you share a brief moment of understanding, sealing it with a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

As you pull back, his fingers linger on your waist for a few seconds, sending goosebumps rippling across your skin in a sweet, tingling sensation.

As you resume kissing, your hands begin to trail down to the button of his trousers, starting to undo them. But once again, Arthur stops you, gently pulling away from your embrace. "Wait," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "Lay down on your back for me."

You comply, as Arthur gently moves you off of him, the anticipation building as you settle onto the bed, watching intently as Arthur moves closer. With ease, he helps you slide off your jeans and panties, his touch sending tingles down your spine, each moment feeling more intimate than the last.

Once you're fully exposed before him, Arthur takes a moment to admire the sight before him, his gaze filled with desire and admiration. He begins to remove his own clothes, his movements deliberate yet filled with an undeniable hunger.

The atmosphere in the room shifted from one of urgency and desperation to something lighter and sweeter. He leaned over you, his touch gentle and reassuring as he positioned himself between your legs. With one hand resting softly on your hip and the other providing support beside you, he lowered his head to spread kisses along your body. Each touch of his lips spreads a heat throughout your body, making you even wetter than you already were.

As his lips found their way to your breast, a soft sigh escaped your lips. Arthur's mouth moved with a practiced rhythm, his movements calculated to elicit the sweetest of moans from you. With each kiss and gentle suckle, he drew out your pleasure, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment.

His lips trailed from your breast to your neck, peppering delicate kisses along the sensitive skin. Finding a spot that made you gasp and arch your back, he lingered there, his ministrations drawing out a deep, primal moan from deep within you. He had surely left a mark, something that you would have to worry about covering up tomorrow.

Arthur shifts slightly, supporting himself as he rises, granting you an enticing view of his hard cock. With a few quick pumps of his hand, he looks at you, both your eyes glazed with undeniable lust. Without a word, he poses the question, "Condom?"

Your body slightly moves to the side and your hand reaches instinctively to the nightstand drawer, quickly retrieving a foil packet. You tear it open, pulling out the condom. As you carefully slide it down his throbbing length, a soft groan escapes him, his body responding eagerly to your gentle touch.

The anticipation hangs heavy in the air as the two of you lock eyes, dark with desire. You search his eyes for any hint of hesitation or doubt, but all you find is pure admiration reflected back at you. And in that moment, there was no need for words, you knew how much you craved each other.

He gently rubs the tip of his cock against you. Your eyes shut tight, a soft moan escaping your lips as you feel the sensation of his cock exploring your wet folds.

Arthur's voice breaks through the haze of desire as he asks, "Ready?" You nod eagerly in response, your body craving the intimate connection that only he can provide. With a gentle thrust, he enters you, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. Your hands instinctively grip his shoulders for support, while his hands firmly grasp your hips, guiding each rhythmic movement with care.

You pant out his name between breathy moans, the sound reverberating in the air as he continues to thrust into you. "Arthur," you gasp.

He pauses, his movements slowing, and he looks down at you with genuine concern. "Is this okay?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort. In that moment, the connection between you felt deeper than mere physicality and it all started to feel more intimate and meaningful.

He waits for your response, his breath mingling with yours as he gazes into your eyes. When you nod in affirmation, a wave of relief washes over his face. With a tender smile, he resumes his movements, each stroke of his cock against you more passionate and deliberate than the last.

Arthur murmurs, "Y/N, you feel absolutely amazing, darling," as he grunts with each slow thrust, a subtle force behind each movement now, hitting your sweet spot deliciously.

You grip his shoulders tighter, your voice a low moan. "Fuck, Arthur."

Your moans and grunts intertwine, echoing throughout the empty apartment as the two of you become lost in each other.

Arthur rests his forehead against yours, his movements still steady as he continues to pleasure you. A soft smile graces his lips as he whispers, "You're so beautiful, Y/N," planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Your mind swims in a sea of pleasure, every sensation heightened as you surrender to the moment.

Arthur maintains his pace, gradually speeding up as the intensity between you heightens. Each movement feels like a perfect fit, as if your bodies were made to intertwine in this exact moment. As you feel your orgasm approaching, you can't help but release a string of uncontrollable moans, "Shit, Arthur, I'm close."

Arthur slows his pace slightly, his thrusts becoming deeper and more intense with each movement. You can feel him filling you completely, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Me too," he responds breathlessly, his arousal evident in his voice, matching the urgency in yours.

Moments later, Arthur reaches his peak, his release triggering your own. You cry out into the crook of his neck as waves of ecstasy wash over you, your bodies trembling in the aftermath of shared pleasure.

Both of you are left as absolute panting messes, your bodies still intertwined. His lips move across your face, peppering tender kisses everywhere, trailing down to your neck where he places a kiss at the mark he had previously left.

Gently, he pulls out of you and excuses himself momentarily. He returns with a wet towel from the bathroom, carefully cleaning you up before tossing the towel aside. A gentle peck on your lips follows, his affectionate gesture speaking volumes.

Settling into the spot next to you, he pulls you onto his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. "I'm so lucky to have met you," he murmurs softly, his words laced with sincerity. He places a sweet peck on your forehead, feeling the weight of the day finally catch up with you as sleep begins to overtake you.

You snuggle closer, a contented smile gracing your lips. "No you have no idea how lucky I am," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. With a final sigh of contentment, you drift off into a peaceful slumber in his embrace, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a deep sleep.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who sends in requests. I appreciate all of you so much. I have about 6 works in my drafts right now that I am working on getting out as quickly as possible.

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Requests are open...or just drop in for a chat! 😊

[firelxdykatara]

I too ship Zutara and think they should have been canon. Although for me it's important to know how such a rewrite would go down. I tried to think, and I'm lost.

After Mai betrayed Azula for him, will he just go "sorry, not interested"? He isn't obligated to date her because of this, but her redemption hinges on Zuko and I don't see it being satisfying if he ends up rejecting her after this.

I thought the solution would be to rewrite her arc in boiling rock to make her have a moral realization, but then the problem with Maiko is practically solved. Their relationship wasn't salvaged by her redemption because last time they talked, Mai still didn't understand what's wrong with the Fire Nation and only changed because she loved Zuko. So how do you make it both satisfying & logical?

With Kataang the problem is the Chakras. The problem with the original (in my opinion) is that after he opened his chakra, letting go of his attachment to Katara, he's still attached (forcing a kiss on eip). Should TCoD get rewritten so that Azula shoots him before he opens it? Then why wouldn't he just open it later? Maybe the chakra would be locked so he feels as though he doesn't need to overcome his attachment just yet. In that situation, how would his chakra even unlock? The stone thing felt like nonsense, so how would I do it?

So yeah I have no idea how to approach this. How would you? (Thanks)

I've been rotating this ask in the back of my head like a rotisserie chicken for a few days--it's interesting because I don't generally stop to think like, how would I write them out of these relationships, I either ignore the relationships completely (which isn't hard, they were barely footnotes in the cartoon) or play a little bit with jealous exes or something. Thinking about like, In A Perfect World where Bryke wasn't in charge of ATLA post-canon (because if zutara had been canon, you can be sure they would've made us regret it) is interesting, and I do have thoughts on how I'd handle their relationships in a rewrite.

(this got long, so the rest is beneath the cut)

Assuming you mostly want to keep canon intact, I think maiko would be the easiest to work around, given how little relevance their relationship has in canon. The problem with maiko as an endgame ship is that it was not set up that way--if it had been, it would not have begun entirely off-screen and their whole relationship would not have been a study in misery and utter inability to connect emotionally. His relationship with Mai was there to showcase just how much he had changed and how little he fit into the life he had been so sure he wanted more than anything since his banishment. It worked very well to highlight Zuko's growth--how that contrasted to Mai's lack of it and why she could not understand him even at his most open and vulnerable--and did not work nearly so well when she was shoved back with him in the epilogue, after he'd quite literally forgotten her existence (he never mentions her again after Boiling Rock, not even to say a word of mourning, considering he'd have every reason to believe she was killed for defying his sister).

I don't think you can fix this by giving Mai some moral realization, because there simply is no room for it. As @araeph says in the essay I linked:

As a character, Mai is very useful to the story during Zuko’s return, because she represents everything that Zuko gains by sticking by his father. A girl who cares about him; the ability to indulge her; the authority he has over others at the palace; we see it all in his interactions with Mai. But this makes Mai a tether to a life he has long outgrown. Her function is not to advance Zuko’s character development, but to obstruct it, which also unfortunately means that Mai gaining a full understanding of Zuko’s trials would be disadvantageous to the story. If she knew everything about him and still wanted him to stay, it would give Zuko more cause than he should have to remain in the Fire Nation, but if she knew and encouraged him to leave and join the Avatar, it would rob Zuko of the triumph of making this decision on his own. In other words, there are good narrative reasons for keeping Mai in the dark; it just doesn’t make their relationship any stronger.

The seeds of a genuine redemption arc (one that includes some sort of moral realization and change to her moral framework) for Mai would have to have been planted far earlier than five episodes from the end of the series, but doing so would have of necessity detracted from Zuko's own character arc and the realizations that he makes despite his attachment to Mai (or more specifically to their relationship, which I feel like he was clinging to more out of a sense of abject loneliness he couldn't shake rather than genuine feelings and emotional connection).

So, in my mind, since we're tackling this with an eye towards getting rid of maiko with the fewest ripples to the overall story anyway, the easiest way to do this would be make one slight change to the end of the Boiling Rock two-parter--have Ty Lee (who had always been the least gung-ho of the trio about bowing to Azula's whims and had to be textually threatened into joining her in the first place) save Zuko's life, and then have Mai (who showed the most genuine affection for Ty Lee anyway) save Ty Lee. I love Zuko more than I fear you always fell flat for me as some epic declaration of love, anyway, since a) Zuko is not around to hear it, and b) unlike Ty Lee, she never showed much fear of Azula to begin with, so it wasn't a very high bar to clear. It was a cool line that was entirely unearned, and I don't think it would be missed, there would be some cute mailee crumbs this way, and a throwaway line of getting them released from the prison after the war ended could wrap up their presence in the story pretty nicely.

Now, kataang is a little trickier, if only because the last leg of Aang's character arc is almost completely derailed by his refusal to let go of his possessive attachment to Katara, to the point where he never naturally reopens his chakras, he has to have the Rock of Destiny hit him in just the right place, and the deus ex lionturtle there to give him a way out of having to make a hard moral choice. (I've maintained for years that if you work the final act of your main character's overall arc in such a way that it could have been solved by one good session with a chiropractor, something got fucked along the way.)

The thing about Aang's chakras is that, narratively, his whole thing with Guru Pathik and leaving his training early to save his friends was basically his version of Luke running away from his training with Yoda on Degobah because of his Force vision, only to find out that his friends were in the process of rescuing themselves and then losing his hand because he hadn't completed the most crucial part of his training. What's missing, therefore, from the last act of Aang's character arc, is the return.

See, in Star Wars, Luke pretty explicitly makes the wrong choice when he chooses to prioritize saving his friends over attaining enlightenment and fully mastering the Force. It was the only choice he could have made, but it was still the wrong one--because, like Aang, his friends did not actually need him to save them, he actually almost makes it harder for them to get away by requiring them to save him because, like Aang, he loses a battle in a very critical way. This was a lesson he desperately needed to learn, and it is clear he has learned it by the time he makes it back to Degobah and witnesses the end of Yoda's life, his own enlightenment having already been reached.

But Aang never goes back to the Guru.

And the text refuses to allow us to sit with the fact that he made the wrong choice in prioritizing his attachment to Katara over his ability to master the Avatar State. He is actually narratively vindicated about it, because the plot bends itself into a pretzel so that he doesn't have to spend any time during the last book trying to reopen his chakras and regain access to the Avatar State, handed both in the final battle with no excess effort on his part, and handed the girl into the bargain. (The girl who never even wanted him, so far as we can tell from all the lack of cues she gave him that she actually returned his feelings.)

And I think this could have been solved with a few scattered scenes. Let Katara actually have some agency in her own romantic relationship (or lack thereof), insofar as noticing Aang's advances and clueing the audience in to how she actually feels. Let Aang struggle with the fact that he can't reach the Avatar State, that his mastery of the elements is in limbo because he can't access his full power, rather than ignoring all of this until the end of the show. If we're trying to keep the shape of the last season roughly the same, let Katara confront Aang about the invasion kiss.

This would have been the perfect time to establish that Katara actually does feel some type of way about Aang prior to the epilogue, and it could have saved us from the exceedingly cringey EIP kiss that Aang never apologized for. How it comes across now, of course, is that Katara basically pretends it never even happened, to the point where she doesn't even know what Aang is talking about during EIP until he reminds her--the death knell for any shot their relationship had at looking requited, because I can tell you, as someone who's been a teenage girl, if someone I had conflicted but burgeoning romantic feelings for had kissed me, I would not have completely forgotten about it only a few weeks later--and we never get any indication as to what she actually felt about the kiss (which was not mutual, despite what Aang's dialogue in the EIP scene implies) except for the fact that she looked away and frowned afterwards. (A change mandated by Bryke, who wanted to leave her feelings completely ambiguous; the original storyboards had her smiling to herself.)

So, with an eye towards wrapping up Aang's puppy love crush and establishing Katara's distinct lack of romantic feelings for him, have her talk to him about the kiss. A good frame of reference for this would be Meng's conversation with Aang in "The Fortuneteller", where she finally realizes that he doesn't like her in the same way she likes him. Katara and Aang's conversation about the invasion kiss could be a callback to this, with Aang having some important realizations--that just because Katara doesn't share his feelings doesn't mean she loves him any less, and just because he can't have her the way he wanted doesn't mean he has to love her any less, that she doesn't belong to him but that's ok, because she's still his family and they'll always have each other's backs. Which could have functioned well in helping him take another step towards unblocking his chakras. Going back to the Guru directly may not have worked, since by this point in the story we're hurtling towards the final confrontation and Sozin's Comet, but let Aang reflect on what the Guru told him with new understanding granted him by his experiences throughout the first half of the season.

To keep the stakes high and up the suspense, obviously, he shouldn't have fully unlocked his chakras and the AS before the final fight, but the seeds could be planted--little moments like a talk with Katara about the invasion kiss, maybe a little more empathy and understanding from him about why Katara needs closure in TSR, etc--and then, during the final fight, rather than hand him all the answers on a silver platter, have him almost lose. He still can't go full Avatar, he's out of time, he still doesn't know exactly what to do about Ozai given his own pacifism and desire to preserve that part of his culture--he tries to fight but he's pretty quickly overpowered. Idk how I would've animated this, and maybe it wouldn't have looked as cool for the final fight, but the true climax of the finale was the Zuko and Azula agni kai anyway, so it hardly matters--I'm picturing him doing the rock-shield thing and going into a brief meditative state, where he finally achieves the enlightenment necessary to unlock the AS on his own, no rock of chiropracty necessary. And at this point, I'd give Ozai a Disney Death, since leaving him alive causes more problems than it solves and it's not necessary for Aang to kill him for him to die--they're fighting on a mountain ffs--but if you don't want to change that part then him figuring out energy bending as part of becoming a fully realized Avatar would at least feel more earned than the lionturtle just handing it to him. (And that could've been foreshadowed better by seeding the idea for it earlier in the season.)

After all of that, particularly if you up the emotions during the agni kai and have Zuko and Katara kiss there (or something less explicitly romantic but still tender, like a brief forehead touch), it'd feel pretty natural to have a just friends ending for Aang and Katara. Maybe a brief, slightly awkward but ultimately amiable conversation if Zuko and Katara had a ~thing at their final fight, and then the final shot of the series could be the gaang all together, maybe zutara holding hands or Katara resting her head on his shoulder or something, but since they already kissed there wouldn't feel like a need to end the whole show on romance, something which I've always felt missed the point of the series.

And then, y'know, after that, the world's your oyster! This is how I'd do it if I were trying to keep the bulk of the final season intact. Of course, breaking it all down to its component pieces and rebuilding from the ground up is also an option, but that'd probably be a longer post lol.

[igotanidea]

Forgetter: Jason Todd x reader

This was one hell of a day.

(this narrator got a feeling like she's been using this line in the story way too often, but hey! Y/N had a really busy and hectic life so what do you expect me to say?)

No, but seriously.

When she got into the shop in the morning before work to do some quick grocery and saw the flowers and buquetes standing pretty much everywhere, her first thought was what's the occation.

Took her three hours to realise the date on the calendar.

February 14th

St. Valentine's Day.

And it made her smile wondering what kind of gift her beloved boyfriend would offer her. Honestly she would be over the moon with just one flower or a simple card, but knowing Jason and his deeply hidden romantic soul he would go for something original.

So all that was left was waiting for the evening till the end of her shift and getting home to have some hearty celebration.

***

8 hours passed in a blur. Between a ton of people wanting something, new cases and stuff needed ASAP or even yesterday, stupid photocopier that refused to cooperate and a few small but quite painful paper cuts there wasn't much time to fantasise.

And all she needed for some love, peace and quiet, perhaps a glass of wine and chocolate, movie and cuddles with her favourite teddy bear while whispering sweet words of some long forgotten Romanticism poet.

Instead, she walked in on a blood stain on the floor. A red trail starting from the window and leading to the kitchen.

KITCHEN.

Out of all places that was the one he decided to crawl into, and it made her shiver. There might have been a few reasons behind his (lack-of) logic, but this room was the only one filled with sharp tools perfect for defence. Or attack. Depending on the side.

"JASON!!?!?" she yelled dropping her bag on the floor and completely forgetting about the necessity of keeping quiet while in a potentially dangerous situation. "JACE WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!" she frantically rushed to the kitchen searching for dead bodies or chopped limbs.

There was no such thing.

But-

the pile of dirty dishes in the sink

the mobs of clothes begging for laundry

unidentified stains on the floor, the origin of which she didn't even want to guess

and the smell of burning.

and her wonderfully wonderful boy wonder sitting in the middle of it all, shirtless (which may have been a mildly mitigating circumstance) with some new fresh cuts and bruises (which were definitely aggravating the situation) patching himself up.

"Hey princess." he said jauntily sending her the most charming smile as if this was all normal.

"Jace--" she opened her mouth to say something, anything but no words came out and she just froze in the middle of the kitchen with empty eyes fixed on his silhouette.

"Hey. Hey Y/N? What happened? Look at me." despite the stinging and half-applied stiches he got alarmed and was by her side immediately. "Baby. Come on, talk to me." his hand on her cheek brought her back to reality.

"What- What is all this?" she half-sobbed waving her hand around the mess.

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry about that. Didn;t really have much time for the house maintenace today. I got a trail of this villain that-"

"Villain....?" she stuttered. Any other day, any other night she wouldn't say a thing about his Red Hood duties, but 14th? Did it mean nothing to him.

"Yeah, I've been hunting him down for weeks now and-"

"Jason..."

"I got involved and lost sense of time I guess while--"

"Jason..."

"Look I promise I will clean it later, after --"

"TODD!" she yelled in frustration

"WHAT?" he spat back instinctivelly getting into fighting mode when her scream spurred him on. "shit. sorry. Sorry baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you... Hey! Hey Y/N, please, don't cry!" the tears falling down her cheeks were both confusing and heartbreaking "god. fuck. I'm sorry. I;m so sorry..." he muttered wrapping arms around her and pulling her to his chest feeling guilty like never before.

"What day is today...?" she sobbed, the words a bit muffled due to the squeeze.

"Wednesday."

"What day of the month?!"

"14th...." his eyes grew wide "Oh, holy fuck...."

The amount and variety of curses that rushed through his head are not to be repeated here.

The one that took the spotlight though was something along the line of him being a total fuckup for forgetting the so-called most romantic day of the year.

Holy fucking mother fuckery fuck. (yeah, I know what I said before about not quoting his thoughts, but screw it, he was wailing in self-hatred).

And even if it meant nothing to him, it meant so much to her. And she was his girlfrend, his lover, his soulmate so this was a huge, huge failure on his part.

"Y/N..." he whispered not sure how to proceed but knowing well enough he had to thread carefully. "Y/N, princess, please forgive me...." the grip on her body tightened significantly as Jason headed to the rage fit and was barely holding back from punching a wall in blind fury on himself for letting her down.

"I just wanted some quality time with you..."

"Quality time?" he repeated. That was a surprise. So she didn;t want flowers? Jewellery? Chocolate? A spa weekend? An expensive shopping on his expense. Cause he would give her all that if she said a single word. But she chooses...

"Yeah, quality time." she pulled back and looked up into those remorseful green eyes. "Just you and me. No vigilante. No Red Hood. I know it's a lot to ask, but please... please..., be Jason Todd for me tonight."

"Y/N." his tone was serious and she knew what was coming.

"Ok... Ok, I get it..." she muttered, avoiding his eyes, wriggling to escape his embrace.

"Don't you move away from me, you silly girl!" he grabbed her waist again and carried her to the couch bridal style. "Quality time. You want it you got it."

"Did you just paraphrase--"

"Ariana Grande. Yes. But trust me, she got nothing on you."

"Does it mean--?"

"I'm staying with you. But only on one condition."

"And what may that be?" she smiled softly, nuzzling against his chest.

"You get into your silly head that I love you every day of the freaking year, ok? I don;t need those five special days to go overboard while forgetting the other 360. My love is always with you."

"You only say it cause you're too much of a pussy to admit you fucked up." she teased, but smiled fully through the remnants of the tears

"Oh did I really?" he brushed lips over hers "did I really fuck up?"

"Big time..."

"guess that leaves me 364 days left to beg for your forgiveness."

"Idiot!" she punched his chest playfully

"Come on sweatheart we both know you love me." he grabbed her wrist and kissed the inside of it before planting soft pecks on each of her knuckles while looking deep into her eyes.

"Yeah... you keep telling yourself that..." she hummed.

She loved him.

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: I have nothing to say for myself. The Jummy has been making me feral for the last few days and I had to cleanse myself somehow… so I figured writing smut was the best method for that. (It makes sense to me, don’t worry about it) It starts out a little angsty with Jake being insecure, but don’t worry bc it heats up VERY quickly. As always, sorry for any typos. Also this is probably my most favorite thing that I've ever written so I hope you guys enjoy.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, body insecurity, body worship, a little bit of cockwarming if you squint, unprotected sex, p in v sex, 18+ MINORS DNI 

Word Count: 3593

Preview: 

“You’re fucking solid, Jake. Powerful. You fuck me so hard. You think someone built like him could fuck me the way you do?” You shake your head. “Wouldn’t even come close. No one can fuck me the way I need it besides you.” 

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

Admittedly, it had taken you a little while to realize that something was off with Jake – far longer than it should have, given how long the two of you have been together. But, in your defense, Jake Kiszka is a master at hiding when something is wrong. 

The first warning sign had been a few weeks ago when Jake had declined going out to his favorite steak restaurant, claiming that he was too tired and that he’d had a late lunch anyway so he wasn’t super hungry. You’d been doubtful, but the two of you stayed in for the night and Jake had distracted you beyond the point of awareness of anything other than his tongue and fingers. He'd fucked you slow and deep that night and needless to say, you’d quickly forgotten about it.

The second came during a dinner with him and his brothers. You, Jake, Sam, Josh, and Josh’s partner had gone out to a local Thai place that all of you loved. You all frequented it regularly and got the exact same dishes every time – which is why you had been confused when Jake ordered something else. You’d looked at him in shock, as did everyone else at the table, but he’d simply shrugged and said that he wanted to try something new. When the food had arrived, you couldn’t help but notice that the dish was much smaller than the one he usually got, but he seemed to enjoy it so you didn’t say anything. Again, you’d allowed yourself to forget about it. 

The third warning (and arguably the most obvious one) happened just two weeks later on an impromptu lake house trip that you all went on. Deciding to enjoy the last bit of time that they had until tours started again, Danny had suggested that you all spend the weekend swimming and hiking at the lake, just like you all used to do when you were younger. It had been a wonderful weekend, and you almost didn’t notice that anything was wrong… almost. 

The first day there had been spent hiking and goofing around inside, but your second day was always reserved for swimming. That morning, as you were changing into your swimsuit, you watched as Jake pulled on his swim trunks; nothing out of the ordinary. But what was strange was that he then put on a swim shirt, hiding his gorgeous torso from view. 

“Why are you putting that on?” You asked, grabbing your towel from where you’d hung it on the bedroom door. 

“I don’t want to get sunburned.” He said, perching his signature sunglasses on his nose. 

You opened your mouth to tell him that he’s never cared about getting burned before (much to your annoyance and worry) but he swiftly left the room. You trailed behind him, staring at his shoulders through the swim shirt and worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You couldn’t tell if he was actually being weird or if you were just overthinking. 

The rest of the trip had gone completely normal, with the boys acting like literal children in the water while you relaxed and sunbathed – occasionally joining them in the lake to participate in their craziness. But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you were overthinking, you couldn’t help but worry as you watched Jake in that stupid swim shirt. 

The entire drive home you’d wanted so desperately to bring it up to him, but you weren’t even sure what you were bringing up. Distantly, all those other little warning signs tinkled like little bells in the back of your mind, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Jake was acting completely normal. So what he was too tired to go to dinner one night? And why was it such a big deal that he wanted to try a different dish at a Thai restaurant? And maybe he really did just want to avoid getting sunburnt. And sure, you and him hadn't been intimate since that night he declined going out... but a few weeks wasn't really all that long in the grand scheme of things. Besides, even though it was between tours, Jake was still almost constantly busy with something – photoshoots, interviews, spending time in the studio. He was tired from work (and so were you). Nothing to be worried about. You shook your head at yourself, willing the little ball of anxiety in your gut to go away. 

And it did. Until just two nights later, when Jake asked you to turn the light off before he fucked you. 

“What? Why?” He was looking down at you, palms planted on either side of you and his weight settled on the bed between your thighs. He had on nothing but a plain t-shirt and his boxers. 

“No reason.” He said, reaching over to turn the bedside lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. He sunk his weight back on his heels to pull his shirt over his head before diving back down to attach his mouth to your breasts, suckling and biting at the sensitive buds. His distraction almost worked. 

“Jake, no.” You said, sitting up to stare at him. “Why do you suddenly want to turn the light off while we fuck?” 

“More romantic?” His words came out as a question, but he didn’t give you time to respond as he leant back down, intent on carrying on without explanation. 

“More romantic for me to not be able to see you?” He didn’t answer, instead beginning to place hot kisses down your throat, teasing the spot that he knew you loved. But you weren’t backing down. Not this time. 

“Jake, stop. Just stop.” 

He sat back up and you stared at him, trying to read his face in the dark. 

“You and I both know you’ve been acting weird. I’m not doing anything with you tonight until you tell me what the fuck has been going on with you.” You told him, your tone leaving no space for debate. 

“How have I been weird?” He asked, his voice far too cool and smooth for it to be genuine. 

“For one, you didn’t want to go to the steakhouse the other night. You know, the one you never say no to?”

“Y/n, I was tired. And full from lunch. How is that weird?” 

“You got something different when we went and got Thai with the guys!” You said, voice raising in volume as he kept staring at you like you were crazy. 

“Okay…” He said slowly, like he was speaking to a child. “And is that a crime? Am I not allowed to order something different?” 

“No. But you love that Thai dish that you always get!” Your hands flew about madly as you spoke, all the worry that you had pushed down finally coming to the surface. “And the swim shirt, Jake. You’ve never cared about getting burnt. Like ever. Why did you start caring now? And now you want to turn the light off while we fuck!” You were yelling now but you didn’t care. You were tired of ignoring that something was wrong. You didn’t know what it was – the dots not connecting between all these events yet. But you knew in your heart that something was wrong. 

“Please, Jake. We haven't slept together in weeks... which isn't like us at all! Just tell me what’s wrong so I don’t have to start making assumptions!” You had the inkling of one already, and you were praying that it was wrong. 

He stayed silent for a long moment, and the tension in the room was so thick you could probably cut it with a knife. Finally, his shoulders fell and he dropped his head. His hair fell on either side of his cheeks, framing his pretty face. 

“I’ve just… put on a few extra pounds recently. That’s all. It’s no big deal.” 

You stared, mouth falling open as the horrible assumption that had been plaguing your mind since the lake was confirmed. 

“So?” You asked, genuinely at a loss over him making this such a big deal. 

“So, I need to lose them. And maybe a few more.” You hated how sure he sounded as he said the words, like he’d already given this so much thought –and he clearly has. “I should've done it years ago to be honest."

“Jake, I-” You stopped, overwhelmed and at a loss for what to say. You wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him; scream in his face how wrong he was for feeling so low about his body. 

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s the truth. I’ve let it get too far and I have to slim down before tour starts.”

“Why?” The question is all your brain can come up with. You want to slap yourself for that being what your brain decided to spew at him first. He sighed deeply and hung his head. 

“Because, y/n. The outfits they make for me are always open chested – and people have already made comments about my weight in the past. So I want to slim down before we start again.” 

“Jake, those people have no right to make comments about your appearance. You’ve said that yourself in the past. Why do you suddenly care now?”

“Because they’re right about this. I don’t understand why you don’t get it!” 

For a split second, his raised voice hurts you, slicing through you as he snaps at you. But you know that it’s coming from his own hurt – the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. 

“Jake,” you say quietly, “I’m confused because I think you’re the sexiest person on the planet. I love the way you look. I don’t care if you feel like you’ve put on some weight. You’re still just as sexy as you were before.” You pause, sliding up in bed so you can see him more clearly in the dark. “If I’m being totally honest, I think you’re even hotter now.” 

His eyes widen at your confession and even in the dark you can see the blush that overtakes his face. 

“You do?”

“Fuck yeah, I do. C’mere.” You beckon him to come and lay against the headboard. He complies, crawling his way up next to you and laying back. You toss one leg over his waist and settle on top of him, straddling him as you place your palms on his chest. 

“Do you know what I mean when I say ‘I love you?’” You ask him quietly. 

He nods his head. 

“I don’t think you do.” You lean your head down to press your lips softly to his for a moment before pulling away. “It means that I love all of you. Ever fucking thing about you – on the inside and on the outside.”

“But it’s embarrassing.” He whispers, eyes pinned on yours. “I don’t like being the heavier twin.” 

The phrase sounds foreign on his tongue and you realize that it's because he's quoting something – no doubt a shitty comment from some asshole who claims to be a fan. You have half a mind to slap the shit out of him. His words fill you with so much anger you feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Jacob, do not EVER compare yourself to Josh. Ever.”

“But-” 

“But nothing.” You cut him off, pressing your pointer finger to his soft lips to silence him before cupping his cheek with your palm. 

“If I wanted to be with Josh or someone built like Josh, I would be. But I don’t. I want you, Jake. As you are." You shake your head at him. "You're not fat, Jake. Like at all. You literally have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

He’s looking at you with shiny eyes and you wish your words would be enough to convince him. But he’s nothing if not hardheaded, so you know it’s going to take more than a few flowery words to get him to see the truth. 

“I’m going to turn the light back on.” You say gently. “And I’m going to show you how much I love you. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He whispers, and you can practically see it as his whole body tenses beneath you. 

You reach up and turn the lamp back on, washing the room in golden light. Jake is still looking at you, his eyes wide and nervous. You give him a little smile as you settle back down on him. Forgoing anymore words, you press a feverish kiss to his neck, licking and sucking down the hollow of his throat. His breath stutters in his chest as you slide your ass downwards. His cock is soft after your conversation but you know you can get him back to where he was at the start of the night.

“I love your body, Jake. These pretty nipples.” You swirl your tongue around them, drawing a breathy moan from him. 

You reach out your arms and find his hands, laying limply at his side. You lace your fingers with his and bring his left hand to your lips, kissing his calloused fingers. “I love your hands. I love how they look when you play guitar – fast and merciless and so fucking talented. And yet they’re still so gentle when they touch me.” You slide his index finger between your lips, swirling your tongue around the digit before releasing it. “And I love the way you make me cum on your fingers. You’re better at that than anyone I’ve ever been with before.”

“Really? Better than anyone?” He asks, the whispers of his usual cocky self shining through.

“Really.” You assure him, dropping his hands to focus your attention elsewhere. “Can I tell you a secret?” You ask him, looking up at his flushed face through your lashes. 

“Yeah. Tell me.” 

“Your stomach is probably my favorite part about you.” You say, delicately trailing your fingers down his sternum and over the curve of his belly. 

He scoffs. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

You shake your head. 

“I’m not. It’s the truth, Jake. I fucking love it. I love watching the sweat drip down it while you play on stage. It makes me so fucking wet, imagining licking it off you.” You bring your mouth downwards, biting at his soft sides as your hands knead into the flesh. You suck his skin between your teeth, creating a purple mark just to the left of his belly button. “Everything about you makes me wet, but your belly does it the most.” 

As if in answer, your pussy throbs at the sight of the hickey you left there. You can see on his face that he still isn’t convinced so you slide off your panties and kick them to the side – leaving you in nothing but your tank top. You rise slightly off the bed and swipe a finger through your folds, collecting the wetness that’s pooled there. 

“See?” You say, allowing him to see your juices drip from your fingers. Wordlessly, he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand to his mouth. He wraps his lips around your finger, swirling his tongue to lap up your wetness. He moans at the taste of you and you pull your hand free. 

“Believe me yet?” You ask him with a sly smile. 

“Getting there.” He gives you a cheeky grin and you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at the sight. 

You give his belly one last lick before moving downwards, avoiding where his half-hard cock lies in his boxers. 

“And I fucking love your thighs.” You tell him, sliding your palms up and down them as you speak. “So thick and strong. Makes me so fucking horny.” 

You trail kisses up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and the muscles twitch as you get closer to where he wants you. 

“You’re fucking solid, Jake. Powerful. You fuck me so hard. You think someone built like Josh could fuck me the way you do?” You shake your head. “They couldn’t even come close. No one can fuck me the way I need it besides you.” 

“Y/n… fuck.” His pupils are blown wide and his breathing is heavy. Even his chest is flush with his arousal. His cock is rock hard in his boxers now, tenting the fabric – straining them so much it looks like they might burst at the seams.

“And this,” you say, finally pressing your palm to his dick. “I don’t even have the words.” He groans at the pressure and his hips shift upwards off the bed in search for more. You give it to him, sliding his underwear down and off him. His cock springs free, slapping his stomach. You spit into your hand and wrap it around him, stroking him slowly. “You have such a pretty cock, Jake. It makes me feel so fucking good. Reaches places inside me no one else can.”

He groans loudly as you pump him, and you watch in awe as his eyes screw shut in pleasure. Your mouth waters and your cunt throbs at the sight and sound of him. Deciding that neither of you should have to wait for it tonight, you rip your tank top off quickly before sinking down on him, taking in his thick cock inch by inch. You moan and whimper as he stretches you, the familiar burn feeling so good. 

“Oh fuck!” Jake groans, opening his eyes to look at you taking his cock. “You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n. Look at you.” 

You still as you sink all the way down on him. He’s watching you with dark eyes and sweat is beginning to bead on his temples. 

“Jake…” you whine, beginning to rock your hips into his. 

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He growls, gripping your hips with his strong hands, kneading his fingers roughly into your flesh. 

You rise off him almost completely, before plunging back down on him – causing the both of you to moan loudly. You set a brutal pace, slamming down on him as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours. You drop your gaze downward to stare as each thrust causes movement in his soft belly, and you wail in pleasure and shock as you cum so hard you see stars. It tears through you so quickly you aren’t expecting it at all, and your movements still as waves of pleasure wash over you. When you finally come back to the world of the living, you want to be embarrassed for falling apart like that – but you can’t with the way Jake is looking at you. 

His jaw is open and his eyes are so dilated they look black. He looks like he wants to eat you alive. You both sit there, neither of you moving, as he looks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. 

“Fuckin' hell.” He says, voice husky and broken.

 “Haven’t cum that easy since I was a fucking teenager.” You say, still a little embarrassed, despite his reaction.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jake confesses, flipping you over quickly so that he’s on top. 

You know he saw where you were looking when you came – he’d been staring at your face the whole time. As embarrassing as that blatant display of lust had been, you can’t help but be thankful that he saw. There’s no way he can doubt your earlier words after seeing that. 

“Fuck me, Jake. Fuck me hard.” You plead, hooking your legs around his waist and pulling him in closer to you. “Fuck me the way only you can.” The last part comes out as a whisper and his cock twitches as you say them. He plants his forearms on either side of you, caging you in with his body. 

“I’ll fuck you every day until the day I die.” He says, before plunging into you again. 

There’s no delay now as he snaps his hips into yours – the force of each thrust causing your whole body to move upwards. His powerful thighs drive into you with fucking monster truck force and the sound of his skin hitting yours is loud and obscene. You rake your nails down his back, undoubtedly drawing blood as he hits that special spot inside of you that only he can. 

“Oh fuck, right fucking there. Jesus Christ!” You scream, digging your fingers into his sides and squeezing. 

“You’re so fucking tight, y/n. I’m gonna fucking cum.” Sweat drips down his neck and chest and you take the opportunity to lean upwards and lick it off him, moaning at the salty taste of him. 

“Dirty fucking girl. Jesus.” 

His thrusts are growing sloppy and erratic and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. You clench around him and the sound that falls from between his lips is practically a whine. 

“Do it, Jakey. Give it to me.” 

And that’s all it takes for him to spill inside you. 

“Fuck!” He growls, sinking his teeth into the skin of your shoulder as he cums. The sting brings you over the edge too, and you clench around him as you cum – milking him for all he’s got. 

When the two of you finally resurface, Jake pulls out of you and collapses on the bed next to you. You turn on your side to see his hilariously fucked out expression. You giggle. 

“What?” He asks, turning his head to face you, a sweet smile on his lips. 

“Do you know what I mean now when I say I love you?”

His smile widens – his beautiful white teeth on display as he scoots closer to you. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

He kisses you – deliberate and passionate. 

"Jake," you say as he pulls away, "if you want to lose weight for you, then I don't care. But if you're only doing it because you feel like you have to..." You trail off, heart heavy at the thought that he had been feeling so down on himself without you realizing.

He smiles at you – the widest and most genuine one he's given you all night, and he slots his lips against yours in another kiss.

“Thank you.” He says as he pulls away from you. "But I think you've convinced me that I'm good with how I am right now." Seriousness overtakes his soft expression as he looks at you. "Thank you."

“It was literally my pleasure. I love getting to worship you.” You lean your head on his shoulder and he pulls the covers up over the two of you and turns off the lamp. “All of you.”

He chuckles, and the sound rumbles in his chest where you’re pressed against him. 

“I love you too, y/n. All of you.”

---------

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[enypsh]

TRY AGAIN - 01. maybe it's natural

SYNOPSiS. the expected had unexpectedly, but finally, happened. infamous heartbreaker sunghoon park and quiet girl y/n. broken up. you and sunghoon, the college campus it couple. what happened? what happened to the two lovers who had the most love for each other in the world? broken promises and broken hearts. but do you two ever want to try again?

PAiRiNG. non idol!sunghoon x fem!reader (ft. rest of enhypen, chaewon from le sserafim, ningning from aespa, yeji from itzy)

WARNiNGS. sickening loads of fluff , swearing , mentions of food , parties , drinking , mentions of hook ups

WORD COUNT. 2K

TAGLiST. open! send in an ask or dm

SERiES MASTERLiST NEXT

Love at first sight was either something people agreed on or found as a fib. a "figment of imagination", some would call it. "There's nothing actually called love at first sight."

Fortunately, for you and Sunghoon, it was real. A dream come true. Just a slight glimpse of you two, and people would truly believe love at first sight was real.

Who would've thought that you being sleep-deprived would cause this whole... incident? A happy coincidence? Was it luck?

Maybe it was the way that your head fell onto Sunghoon's shoulder due to the lack of sleep you'd gotten the previous night.

Or perhaps it was the way you cutely and quickly apologized, wiping the teeny trail of invisible drool from your cheek. Randomly, and suddenly, proceeding to give him the sandwich you were planning on having for lunch. But you gave it to him instead, impulsively. All because you felt sorry for getting a spot of drool on his shoulder.

"No wait," he tried calling out for you before you quickly rushed out of class in embarrassment, blending along with the rest of the students leaving class. "Wait! it's okay - wait! Come back!" He tried going after you, quickly packing his bag as the rest of the students were leaving.

As he bent down to grab his stuff, he noticed a glint at your seat. A bracelet. Quickly shoving everything into his bag, he grabbed it without hesitation and rushed out.

He went around almost everywhere near the cafeteria area to look for you. He didn't know your name, which he just realized. Even though you two had always sat next to each other, coincidentally. But anyways.

"Hey, sunghoon!"

Turning around, he found Jake rushing to him at a frantic pace. "Hurry up! I've been trying to get to you through calls and texts too! We're late!"

Well shit. Today was Jay's birthday. The group: Jay, Jake, Heeseung, Jungwon, Ni-ki, Sunoo, along with Sunghoon, was supposed to meet for lunch. And he had completely forgotten about it.

"Jake, go without me. I'll be there soon, tell Jay i'm sorry, I swear I'll be there real soon." Well, leaving Jake in a very confused state, Sunghoon rushed out of the cafeteria after he saw you at the corner of his eye. Outside, sitting under the tree reading a book. Alone, with a pair of headphones.

He jogged to where you were, trying to get your attention.

"Hey," he cleared his throat. Gosh, he didn't know why he was being so awkward. The Sunghoon Park was being an awkward person around you. He started again, seeming to figure out you were too zoned into the book you were currently reading. "Hey!"

Finally getting your attention, you looked up at him. Cue the random wind that you could only see in movies, your hair softly blew in the wind. Cue the sudden glow right onto your skin from the sun, making you look prettier than ever.

Oh a dream, in Sunghoon's eyes. You were pretty, and Sunghoon saw it. He noticed it. and well jesus, Sunghoon park was fucking blushing because of you.

He snapped out of his daze after hearing you, well, shriek. "Oh my god! I'm sorry! Are you still mad about what happened in class? I'm really sorry, I promise I didn't mean to." You were ranting, almost sounding like you were trying to rap. Awkwardly getting up, away from the spot you were previously sitting at.

Cute, he thought. "Oh, no, it's okay. don't worry about it, I actually found your bracelet. I think? I was putting my stuff away so," was what he had said instead. Handing you your bracelet, he gave you a lopsided smile.

Oh, he's cute, you thought. If only you two could read each other's minds.

"Do you not want it?" Sunghoon was just standing there, an awkward arm extended.

"Oh! no! i want it it's mine. Oh my goodness I'm sorry I'm a mess today. Did you like the sandwich? Do you want more?" Your cheeks were on fire, redder than a tomato.

Sunghoon chuckled, "You're cute." Shit. That was actually not what he meant to say but he was just speaking his mind, we could say!

"What?" Well you were red as a tomato now. This was one of the most, top 5, embarrassing and most fucking awkward moments of your life.

Quietness. A moment of stillness as the college's well-known heartbreaker Sunghoon Park was blushing over you. With that damn arm still extended out in front of him, holding your bracelet. Is this how slow-mo from the k-dramas feels like? It was such a sweet thing. Staring into each other's eyes. An awkward arm’s length away from each other. And hundreds of texts piling up in Sunghoon's messages from his friends asking where the fuck he was. 15 minutes late already.

"Wait shit,” Sunghoon was frazzled, letting out a little squeak. “Sorry i need to get going. Please forget about what I just said.. slip up! Yeah. A slip up I was getting nervous, sorry. Yup. See you around." And there he went. Awkwardly leaving, bag over his shoulder while you were clutching onto your bracelet for dear life.

There was no fucking way the sunghoon park just called you cute out of nowhere and left. You were in a daze. still blushing. And awkwardly standing. But you were hopelessly in love. Scratch that. No, you weren't. Well, you were gaslighting yourself into thinking that you weren't. You couldn't be in love with Sunghoon Park, he'd done the bare minimum for you. What was so warm about the fact that someone returned your lost item to you? Well christ, you were a goner. Too late. And there you went contemplating on the true meaning of, "Am I in love?", for the rest of the day.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon had finally arrived at the local restaurant. "Sorry Jay, real sorry. I had to give someone-"

"Who was the girl you had to go see?" Jake had cut him off mid-sentence. And shit, Sunghoon looked up after taking his seat, only to see all his friends devilishly grinning at him. Oh god, how was he supposed to explain everything to them? Should he lie? Say it was just a friend? Or completely act clueless? Or be honest?

Jay laughed looking at his friend’s blank face. "Don't be sorry. It's fine, but who's the girl anyway? That's a fun topic to talk about. Jake told us you ran off to give something to a girl?" Sunghoon could practically hear Jay’s grin.

Sunghoon sighed, acting all calm while he most definitely was not, while the rest were grinning ear to ear, "That's out of context. She was sitting next to me in my last class, and she forgot something behind so i just went off to give it to her." Quietness. But a different kind of quiet - the quiet where six pairs of eyes were on him, with a cheeky grin plastered on their face, all thinking of the same thing.

"Well then why are you blushing?" Heeseung pointed out. Grinning more, if that was even possible, staring into Sunghoon's soul. 

This was not going as Sunghoon planned, and he was blushing. Again. He was supposed to make girls blush, not for girls to make him blush. (Or whatever people say!) He was supposed to have a silly fun night with girls at parties, a one-time thing, and that was it. He never felt any “romantic” connection with anyone for a date, nothing like that. But what was it with you? Did he have a thing for girls who were socially awkward and fell asleep on his shoulder? 

"I'm not blushing!" Stupid. He knew damn well he was. He downed the cup of water that was next to him, throat burning. From denial. But he wouldn’t ever admit that.

"Right... better introduce us to your. Classmate." Jungwon threw a silly little wink at Sunghoon, and if it was even possible, everyone grinned even more. A whole-ass grinch smile on every single one of them.

"Deny it all you want but," Jay started, still grinning, "to make it up for coming late Hoon, you’re coming to the party later tonight. And you better come on time, or come early with a special treat for me." 

Did Sunghoon want to go? No. But was it for his friend? Or for the chance that, just maybe, he could see you? For you. For Jay.. definitely! Well, tonight was going to be a very long night.

In another universe, you were very busy ranting about Sunghoon Park to your friends. for the past 2 hours. Well - Ningning got sick of it. Chaewon was immersed in this situation, along with you. while Yeji was concerned. Very concerned. You, a girl with minimal experience in the real meaning of life - was here expressing your silly love crush on Sunghoon Park. 

"He's notorious for being an asshole with girls, y/n." Yeji thought he was absolutely a no-go. just at the thought of him ever dating you, it gave Yeji a whole body chilling irk. A whole nightmare you could say. "I really don't think you love him, honestly maybe he was just being nice. He’s usually not like that, you know. Maybe to earn a night with you?" Objectifying. 

The horrors of college party nights. Stories from girls who slept with Sunghoon, “I thought he genuinely loved me.” Well christ, they should’ve gotten the hint by now.

"Nope," Chaewon intervened. "He's definitely in love with you. If the Sunghoon Park did all that, chased after you to give you that damn bracelet, literally blushed. Like I’m pretty sure the Sunghoon Park we know, does not blush! He’s supposed to make you blush! Which I bet you did.”

In fact, you did. You could even feel it when you were standing up. The heat spreading across your cheeks. The way you had no thoughts, christ, Sunghoon Park was standing in front of you. He was known for being good-looking as well, and for once, nobody was lying about it. His face, with a soft smile in the view of your eyes. You liked how everything around you muted when you were there with him. Love at first sight. 

“You zoned out again,” Ningning sighed. She knew that you were hopelessly crushing on Sunghoon Park already. As much she would’ve cheered you on, with whatever decision you were making. Sunghoon Park was an absolute and instant no from her. She heard about all the tales that he did around the college campus, and she didn’t want you to become a victim. A victim helplessly under this trap. “Let’s think rationally, please. What if he’s purposely trying to flirt with you? You know, like, trying to get your attention. Because there’s also the party we’re going to later tonight and he probably knows that you’re going, so.”

The party. You were not going to the party. “Nope! Not going to the party.” You were walking away from your friends, searching for a bottle of water to chug. “I’m not going to be wasting my time at a lousy party that’s full of too many people who just grind on each other and smell like shit. no thanks.”

“But what if you see Sunghoon there,” Chaewon smirked. You knew where she was going with this. It was definitely a great way to make you go, but you didn’t want that to be the reason on why you would go.

You sighed, “Fine, I’ll go. But NOT because he might be there, actually. I’ll go because last time I skipped and made you guys go, I’ll just go with you guys together. You know like a fun little night.”

Cue the giggling from Chaewon and the long sighs from Yeji and Ningning. 

Chaewon was doing this weird eyebrow wiggling at you, “Sure. You’re definitely not just going for Sunghoon. Right. Got you. Well then, what are we waiting for! Let’s get ready!”

It was going to be one hell of long night.

NOTE. finally finished chapter 1.. i was planning on writing more but decided to keep that stuff for chapter 2. first chapter ever written, there's like mistakes here and there i think i sort of rushed.. BUT i have this whole image painted in my mind for this series i'm so excited 🥹

TAGS. @lovingvoidgoatee @babystrlla @adoredbyjay @eneiyri @bts-army380 @rikibun @ddazed-lhs @txtlyn @enhastolemyheart @nyfwyeonjun @sunsunl0ver TAGLIST IS OPEN!

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.64)

(Sneek Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”

Tags: Angst, Blood, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort.

W/c: 7.0k

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter will be a little shorter than usual after such a long weight but i literally could not finish the second half of it in time. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. idk when that will change, this might just be the new reality for me 😭 when i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

~-~

Chapter 64 Sneak Peak: Pawn and King

The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old streetlamp lights punctuate the darkness. But through it there are husks of metal rising like soldiers. The sky orange behind them from the distant lights of the city,

Jin’s car is there. Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as his headlights roll over it. And then further in the darkness maybe 50 feet away, Jimin's car. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.

You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine, casting everything, the river, and this building into a grey-slanted light.

You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in it. Tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.

“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out. He stares at it.

"Hobi," he looks up at your face, and you flick the safety off. "Sink or swim?"

His hand finds yours. "Swim."

You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him. squeezing it once then letting it go. You don’t waste another second arguing. "Stay behind me."

You head off following the disturbed dust, Hobi trailing behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.

He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe. He's spent the last few months fixating on it- and you of course too. Too fixated to notice the small things that he sees plainly right now. There are facts here that Hobi has not noticed.

The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be the only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin? But the way you walk; completely silent as you transfer your weight from one foot to the other, is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly.

It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms, like a dancer's ballet fingers. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger and index finger along the barrel.

Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Jimin. Hobi had almost forgotten about it. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? there are some things that you never forget, and trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are- but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you, you do not have a tell.

Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.

That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you. You've known he shouldn't since you picked up Jin's call.

Jimin is easy to find if only because he’s sitting in one of those puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet whimper when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway and Your hand on the gun goes slack

“Minnie!” you forget the gun and run to him, tucking it back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding water-dark fabric. Not water- blood.

Hobi stays there, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor, bubbling. Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The little bit of blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, a puddle of it. Jin is nowhere to be found.

Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek.

“Hey pup” he murmurs, he laughs a little, half delirious with pain. He flinches like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs, "did you bring Tae?”

You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”

Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed, pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.

“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her that I’m sorry. Could you-" jimin's coughs overtake him, and fresh blood drips down the tips of his fingers, finding home in the soil below.

"Could you tell her for me?”

Coming Saturday December 9th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)