#yes they are carrying the weight of the world on the shoulder and their friend is dying of poison

[aoioozora]

Therapist Friend

John 'Soap' MacTavish, fem reader, fluff, comfort

It's real tiring being the therapist friend. Being the one who has it all together enough to be able to comfort others. But it's tiresome business, and you felt the effects of it keenly.

Shouldering the weight of the world wasn't an easy task. While you loved to be there for your friends and your family, it felt like a brick was placed on your back each time a word was spoken. And with each conversation, you were carrying entire cities on your back.

Back bent from carrying the world like Atlas, it didn't take long for that back to break.

Johnny had just confided in you about something and when he was comforted enough, he saw that the smile on your face was taut like a stretched rubber band; it didn't quite reach your eyes.

His blue eyes, ever so sweet and gentle, looked at you with concern. "Are ye okay, pet?"

You blinked, not expecting to be asked. "I'm fine," you forced out with some effort, smiling again.

Your eyes didn't crinkle. "I canny believe that," he replied, eyeing you up and down. He saw your chest expand as you drew in a sharp, whistled breath, deliberating.

"I'm... not," you confessed shakily.

"Whit's the matter?" His voice mellowed and softened.

And you hesitatingly told him of your place in your family and friend group as the "therapist", listening to everyone and offering comfort and solutions. He watched your emotions play out on your face. The furrow of your brow; the keen look of distress in your eyes, your slightly raised shoulders; you fiddling with your fingers, your tears.

Your tears?

He saw the floodgates burst forth as you said, "I just wish there was someone for me for once, you know? Someone to hear me complain, someone to hold me when I'm sad, someone to-"

Johnny didn't need to be told twice. An arm wrapped around your shoulder, and the other around your waist, and before you knew it, you were pulled against his chest, snug and tight like a chick in its egg.

"Yer awright, pet, yer awright," he whispered, gently stroking your hair. "Cry all ye want."

It didn't take you long to take him up on his offer. Melting right into his arms like ice cream on a hot pavement, you wept in his embrace, feeling each building of the metropolis on your back shifting, sliding, tumbling down like towers of Jenga in an earthquake. How much lighter you felt with his weight against you.

He hushed your cries and sobs as a mother would her crying child, rocking you gently and speaking in sweet whispers, assuring you that you weren't a burden to him, and you never would be.

"Depend on me a wee bit more, will ye?" he gave your back some soft, rhythmic pats, "I want tae be there for ye."

He was met with a pondering silence. "Ye will go insane if ye keep this up, an' I don' want that tae happen," he added.

The silence stretched. He nevertheless continued, "Will ye do that for me? I ken it wouldnae be easy, but dinna fash yersel'. Ye can trust me. I will always hold ye like this if ye want tae cry. Okay?"

He felt your nod against his chest and smiled. He continued to stroke your hair, letting you hold on to him for as long as you pleased.

"Good girl. Yer a bonnie lass. Tears don' look good on ye."

[shadowqueendiangelo]

THEM SPLASHING WATER ON PERCY IN A FOUNTAIN SHAKDNSKE THEY ARE SUCH CHILDREN I AM CRYING

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

My Missing Piece

616!Wanda x 199999!Fem!Reader

Summary: You've lost your wife Wanda. Leaving you alone with your twin boys to try and pick up the pieces. What happens when the Scarlet Witch comes looking for her boys?

Word Count: 10.4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, R calls W Mommy, W uses pet names, enchanted strap use, Dom!Wanda, sub!reader, overstimulation, magic restraints, depressive thoughts/episodes.

A/N: Made this forever ago and forgot about it until like two days ago lol. I really liked the idea of this so I hope you guys enjoy~ Also I decided that world 199999 (which was the original MCU world number before MoM turned it to 616) is just a parallel world where no one died :)

Every night after tucking my boys, Billy and Tommy in to bed, I have a bit of me time. Sometimes I watch TV, sometimes I'll scroll through social media on my phone, sometimes I'll write because I was told that was supposed to help with grief, it hasn't so far, what helps the most is when I talk to her before bed, "I miss you Wands...our boys miss you too...of course they love their Mama, but you're their Mommy. You carried them for nine months, you were in labor for just over a day." Tommy was born first 12 minutes ahead of his brother Billy. "You gave so much for our boys and our life here and I wish you had never said yes to that mission after all these years..." I break down, quiet sobs wrack me as I curl up on her side of the bed. It still smells like her.

I let sleep take me as I have the same dream I do every night. Wanda, but not Wanda...some twisted version of her with black fingers, and she just seems off, but she's searching, as if she can see me? She's looking for our boys. Every morning just as she finds me, us, I wake up. Dried tears on my cheeks and my eyes red. The bags under my eyes have never been darker, but I cover them up as I get out of bed to start yet another day without my wife.

The alarm blares through the quiet of the room, jolting me awake from my restless slumber. With a heavy sigh, I reach over to silence it, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Another day begins, much like every other since she left us.

I stumble out of bed, the weight of grief still heavy on my shoulders as I move through the motions of the morning routine. It's a struggle to keep it together, but I have to be strong for Billy and Tommy. They need me, even though every fiber of my being aches for her presence.

As I make my way downstairs, the memories flood back, hitting me like a tidal wave. Wanda was always the light in our lives, her laughter echoing through the halls, her warmth enveloping us like a comforting embrace. But now, there's only emptiness.

I try to push the thoughts aside as I prepare breakfast for the boys, forcing a smile as they bound into the kitchen, their youthful energy a stark contrast to my own weariness. They chatter excitedly about school and friends, oblivious to the pain that lingers beneath the surface.

After they've eaten and headed off to catch the bus, I sink into the solitude of the empty house once more. It's in these quiet moments that the ache is most palpable, the absence of her presence a constant reminder of all that we've lost.

I find myself drawn to her belongings, unable to resist the pull of her memory. Running my fingers over the familiar objects, I'm transported back to happier times, when our love felt invincible, untouchable by the darkness that now threatens to consume me.

But amidst the despair, there's a flicker of something else. A determination, a resolve to keep going, if not for myself then for her. She wouldn't want me to wallow in sorrow, to let the grief consume me. She'd want me to live, to cherish the memories we shared and find solace in the love that still remains.

With a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall. Today may be another struggle, another battle against the pain, but I refuse to let it defeat me. For Wanda, for our boys, I'll find the strength to carry on, one day at a time.

The day went by quickly and soon enough the boys were home filling up our home with noise once more,

"Boys homework first or no ice cream!" I call from the kitchen when I hear them start to fight over player one controller.

"Awww but Mama!" They whined.

"So you boys don't want ice cream tomorrow night either I see." I hear them grumble and then the TV go off, the sound of the dining room chairs scraping as I look over my shoulder to see they're working. "There are my good boys." I turn back smiling as I carry on with prepping dinner. Suddenly something feels off. A pit in my stomach starts forming and I feel eyes on me, not the boys though these feel predatory.

I look up and through the window I don't see my own reflection, I see Wanda, the same one I see in my dreams.

My heart leaps into my throat as I freeze, the knife in my hand forgotten as I stare wide-eyed at the impossible sight before me. It's her, but it's not. The twisted version from my nightmares, black fingers reaching out like tendrils of darkness, eyes filled with a hunger I can't comprehend.

I feel a chill run down my spine as her gaze locks onto mine, a shiver of fear coursing through my veins. Instinctively, I reach for the pendant hanging around my neck, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the purple power stone embedded within. It's a comforting weight, a reminder of the power that pulses through me, but even it feels insignificant in the face of this apparition.

"What do you want?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. But she doesn't answer, only continues to stare, her presence suffocating in its intensity.

Desperation claws at the edges of my mind as I struggle to make sense of the situation. Is this some kind of illusion, a trick of the mind brought on by grief and exhaustion? Or is she truly here, some twisted echo of the woman I loved?

Before I can gather my thoughts, a sudden crash from the dining room snaps me back to reality. The boys, my precious boys, oblivious to the danger that lurks just beyond our walls. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunge forward, grabbing the nearest weapon within reach.

But as I turn back to face the window, she's gone, vanished into thin air like a wisp of smoke. The only evidence of her presence is the lingering sense of unease that hangs heavy in the air.

I rush to the dining room, relief flooding through me as I find the boys unharmed, their laughter filling the room once more. But even as I hold them close, a sense of dread lingers, a silent reminder that darkness still lurks just beyond the edges of our reality.

"Mama is everything okay?" Billy asks as I hold them, kissing the top of their heads.

"I just thought one of you got hurt. I'm happy you boys aren't." I lie to them as to not worry them, but Billy looks at me trying to search my thoughts. "Hey no mind reading little man." I ruffle his hair. "Everything is fine. If you boys are finished you can play one game, dinner will be ready in 15 minutes." The minutes tick by slowly as I finish preparing dinner, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. I glance at the clock, realizing that my boys are engrossed in their game, blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling within me.

With a heavy sigh, I take a moment to compose myself before calling them to the table. As we gather for the meal, laughter and chatter resuming, I try to push the unsettling encounter out of my mind. But deep down, I know it's not over.

As we eat, the boys share stories from their day, their infectious joy momentarily easing the ache in my heart. I force a smile, savoring these small moments of normalcy in our fractured world.

After dinner, as the boys retreat to their rooms for the night, I find myself once again standing by the window, staring into the darkness beyond. The pit in my stomach returns, the unease settling in as I feel a presence lingering just out of sight.

The room is silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the night. I close my eyes, summoning the courage to speak the words that linger on the tip of my tongue.

"Wanda, if you're out there, if you can hear me, please... don't hide. I don't know what's happening, but I can't face it alone. I need you, now more than ever." My voice trembles with a mix of desperation and longing.

The air remains still, the response elusive. I wait in silence, hoping for some sign, some reassurance that I'm not losing my mind. But the universe remains silent, withholding its secrets.

"Gods I feel like I'm going crazy Wands...how am I supposed to do this without you?" I feel the hot tears in my eyes, streak down my cheeks then suddenly a loud bang from the living room, the sound of a portal. "Stephan? Is that you?" It wasn't uncommon for Stephan Strange to pop in and check on me and the boys. Stephan had lost his love many years ago. Before I reach the living room, I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking on my hard wood flooring. Suddenly I'm standing face to face with the Wanda I've seen in my dreams...."W-Wands?" I questioned,

"A version. I've lost something precious to me and I've come to get it back." I look her over. It's Wanda, but not mine. As I get closer, Her hair is a different shade, her eyes are a little less of an emerald green and more of a sea green, this Wanda has a scar on her forehead, just above her left eyebrow.

"Oh...what has your universe done to you Detka?" I ask softly reaching out and she grabs my wrist with a force.

"It took everything from me." She seethed. "I want my boys back. I'm taking them." She tosses me aside like I'm nothing. Luckily with the power stone embedded in my chest. I push back, barreling back into her. Tackling her to the ground until I'm on top of her and it's then that she notices my stone, "You have the power stone...how? That's impossible. I've seen it kill people that touch it.

"I'm tough that's why my Wanda loved me." I had her pinned and used my own magic to subdue her. "I've been called the Violet Witch here for years. It became my code name."

"That can't be..." I give her a questioning look. "I'm the Scarlet Witch." She tells me, the scarlet witch? Wanda never said anything...? I stumble back off of her, reeling, "The Scarlet Witch." I let out a dry chuckle, "It makes sense, but I can't let you take my boys. If I loose them then That means I've lost my Wanda and them. I might as well die." I tell her,

"Wait so your Wanda is gone?" She asks. I nod,

"She was needed for a mission. I begged her not to go, we had retired from being Avengers 10 years ago when we found out she was pregnant. She told me everything would be fine. She promised me...and then suddenly I have Strange and Parker on my doorstep with Bucky and Sam behind them carry the casket." I feel my eyes blur as I walk over to the scarlet witch, "If you are another her then," I take her hands putting them up to my temples and ease my forehead onto her, letting my memories over the past ten years flood through her mind.

As our minds intertwine, I feel a rush of memories flooding into her consciousness. The love, the loss, the moments of joy and heartache that have shaped my existence since Wanda's departure. It's a whirlwind of emotions, a bittersweet symphony of love and grief that binds us together in ways I never thought possible.

For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, a glimmer of understanding amidst the chaos of her own turmoil. She sees the depth of my pain, the desperation to hold onto the fragments of a life that's slipping through my fingers.

But as quickly as it came, the moment passes, and she pulls away, her expression hardening once more. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. "But my pain is just as real. I've lost everything too, and I'll do whatever it takes to reclaim what's mine."

I feel a pang of empathy for her, a shared sense of anguish that transcends the boundaries of our separate worlds. But beneath it all, there's a primal instinct, a fierce determination to protect my boys at all costs.

"I understand your pain," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "But my boys are not yours to take. They belong here, with me, with their family."

She narrows her eyes, her resolve unwavering. "Then we're at an impasse," she says, her tone final. "I won't leave without them."

I take a step forward, meeting her gaze with steely determination. "Then I guess we'll just have to see who's stronger," I say, my voice echoing with a newfound resolve.

With that, the battle lines are drawn, two versions of Wanda Maximoff facing off against each other in a clash of wills and power. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remains clear: no matter the outcome, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my boys and honor the memory of the woman I loved.

Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of pain and longing mirrored in their depths. The tear I wiped away lingers on her cheek, a testament to the shared sorrow we both carry. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, time seems to hang suspended.

"I... I don't know if I can stay," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. "But the offer, it means more than you can imagine. In my world, everything has crumbled, and I'm left with nothing but ashes and echoes of what once was."

I can feel the weight of her words, the burden of her grief, and I tighten my grip on her cheek, desperate to convey the sincerity of my plea. "Wanda, you don't have to face this alone. You're not just a version of her; you're your own person, with your own pain. But here, in this universe, you have a chance to rebuild, to find a new kind of family."

She opens her eyes, the sea-green gaze locking onto mine. There's a vulnerability in her expression, a crack in the stoic facade she wears. "I'm so tired," she admits, a raw honesty in her voice. "Tired of loss, tired of fighting. Maybe... maybe it's time for a different path."

A tentative smile plays on her lips, and my heart skips a beat. I wipe away another tear, this time a tear of relief. "You don't have to decide now," I say softly. "Take the time you need. But know that here, you have people who care, people who understand loss and are willing to help you carry the burden."

The room seems to brighten, as if the weight of the universe has lifted, if only for a moment. And in that moment, I see a glimmer of hope, a possibility for healing and connection that transcends the boundaries of our fractured worlds.

"I need to know one thing." She speaks, "Is Vision alive?" my brows furrow together.

"Vision? Who is that?" I ask genuinely confused.

"Wait...how did we meet here?" She asks.

"Oh well we met in Sokovia. We were protesting Stark together at a rally. Your brother flirted with me first and I never let him live that down especially when I married you and he was my best man." I smile at the memory. "Anyways, we were approached by Hydra and experimented on. They had the mind stone and the power stone. You and Pietro were exposed to the mind stone and I was too, but nothing happened unlike you two so they put me in a room with the power stone. It decided my chest was it's forever home. I ended up breaking us out from the Hydra base with the help of the Avengers who had caught word of the base. The three of us joined the Avengers and the rest is history." I tell her.

"So no Ultron? Sokovia didn't fly in the air? What about the Sokovia accords?" She throws question after question.

"No idea what you're talking about love. We carried on doing small missions, taking down hydra and radicals, but the three of us spent a long time training before they let us out doing field work." I tell her.

"Three? Is...is Pietro..?" Her voice breaks.

"Alive? Yeah of course." She falls to her knees and starts sobbing.

"Mommy?" Billy is at the middle of the stairs and the look in Wanda's eyes.

"Yeah baby it's Mommy." Wanda opened her arms and the little speedster found his way into her arms." Her eyes spilling over tears.

"Mama said you weren't coming back." Billy whispered.

"Mama didn't think I was, but Mommy always finds a way back to her boys." Wanda pulls back and looks up at me. "I'm staying...how could I say no when this is just about the most perfect version I could ask for?" I smile and start crying again as Tommy joins us before I can even blink. "Our little quick silver." Wanda smiles hugging the boys, her boys.

Tears of relief blur my vision as I watch Wanda embrace our boys, her boys, with a tenderness that speaks volumes. Billy and Tommy cling to her, their small arms wrapping around her tightly as if afraid she'll disappear again if they let go. And in that moment, I realize that this is where she belongs, with us, her family.

I join them on the floor, wrapping my arms around them all, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions that threatens to consume me. "Welcome home, Wanda," I whisper, my voice choked with tears.

She looks up at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. "Thank you," she says softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Together, we sit in the warmth of our embrace, a makeshift family forged from the ashes of our shared past. And as the night stretches on, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a belief that no matter what trials may come, as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm.

========================

The days blurred together in a haze of longing and uncertainty, each moment tinged with the ache of what could have been. Wanda's presence in our home was both a blessing and a curse, a constant reminder of the love I had lost and the impossibility of reclaiming what was once mine.

I watched her interact with the boys, her smile forced but genuine, her laughter a melody that echoed through the halls. And yet, beneath the surface, I could sense the weight of her own grief, the burden of a past that refused to let her go.

I tried to be strong, to be there for her and the boys, but every smile felt like a lie, every laugh a hollow echo of the joy we once shared. And in the darkness of the night, when sleep eluded me and the silence pressed in like a vice, I found myself haunted by memories of another Wanda, a version of her that existed only in my dreams.

She was so close, yet so far away, a phantom presence that taunted me with what could have been. I longed to reach out to her, to hold her close and whisper words of love and comfort. But she was gone, lost to me in a reality that no longer existed.

And so I forced myself out of bed each morning, steeling myself against the pain that threatened to consume me. I buried myself in the routines of daily life, seeking solace in the mundane tasks that kept me tethered to reality.

But no matter how hard I tried to push her memory away, she lingered in the shadows of my mind, a ghostly specter that refused to be forgotten. And as the days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if I would ever find peace, if I would ever be able to let go of the love that still bound me to her, even across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

My Wanda and I had always had a policy of no mind reading since we could both do it, but this Wanda pokes at my thoughts constantly. Reminds me to smile through telepathy. One morning after a really good dream with another Wanda I can't get myself out of bed. Everything is too much. I know I had told her I'd be fine, but I'm not.

"Come on Y/N. Time to get up." I turn away from her, curling up into a ball further. "Y/N? What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing just tired. Just tell the boys I don't feel good. I need a Mama's day. So they can have a Mommy day. Take them out, get them ice cream. Do whatever you want." I grumble.

"Okay..." I close my eyes, letting myself drift back off just needed to see her again.

I don't know how much time has past when I'm being woken up, "Detka...come on wake up." My eyes blink into focus as I look at Wanda sitting above me and smile, forgetting my reality for a moment before my smile drops.

"What?" I ask.

"I dropped the boys off with their uncle for the weekend." I sit up straight,

"You did what!?" I screech.

"I left them with Pietro for the weekend. He was more than happy to have a boys weekend. Something about taking them to the lake?" Wanda mentions.

"He takes them every summer, usually it's a family thing and we all go." I tell Wanda.

"Well I figured you needed a Mommy and me weekend. I want to take you out. I want to get to know you. I already know my boys, but you. You're different, new, you aren't like Vision. You're human." She cups my cheek, smiling and I know it's a genuine smile. "I'm sure you've been feeling neglected and I wanted to try and do this sooner, but the boys were too excited to have me back." She says as I lean into her touch, Gods how I missed her touch. Though her fingers were no longer black her nails seemed to permanently stay black which made me laugh as I compared it to her emo phase which apparently this Wanda had one too.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. "For understanding."

She smiles, a warmth in her eyes that belies the weight of her own pain. "We're in this together. You don't have to carry the burden alone."

With her words echoing in my mind, I find the strength to push myself out of bed, to face the day with renewed determination. Wanda's offer of a Mommy and me weekend is a lifeline, a chance to rediscover myself amidst the chaos of grief and longing.

As we spend the day together, exploring the city and sharing stories of our pasts, I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for a future filled with love and laughter.

And as the sun sets on our day together, I realize that while Wanda may not be my Wanda, she's still a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there's always someone willing to stand by our side, to offer a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on.

With her by my side, I know that no matter what the future may hold, I'll never have to face it alone. And as we head home, the weight of grief feels a little lighter, the shadows a little less daunting, as we embrace the possibility of a new beginning, together.

When we got back home, I pulled her to the couch, "Time to watch sitcoms." I tell her and her face lights up.

"Dick Van Dyke?" She asks.

"No Detka. I want to show you my favorite this time. It's a more modern one. It's an animated sitcom though is that okay?" I ask, realizing this Wanda maybe never experienced animated and only enjoyed live action ones.

"Of course dorogoya." Her accent popping out sent a wave through me that landed between my legs.

"O-okay good." I say and get 'Bob's Burgers' playing. As the show starts I settle in with a slight distance between us, but she pulls me in against her side.

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She asks looking down at me.

"Y-yeah...of course." I move slight, readjusting to get comfortable as we fit together like two missing puzzle pieces and I let out a sigh of relief, that feels like so much weight is taken off my shoulders.

As the episodes of "Bob's Burgers" played on, I found myself relaxing into Wanda's embrace, the tension that had been coiled tight within me slowly unraveling with each passing moment. Her warmth seeped into my bones, a comforting presence that chased away the lingering shadows of doubt and fear.

With her by my side, the laughter that bubbled up from the screen felt genuine, a reflection of the newfound camaraderie we shared. And as I stole glances at her profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the television, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment, the simplicity of just being together.

Her laughter mingled with mine, the sound music to my ears, a symphony of joy that filled the room with warmth and light. And as the credits rolled on the final episode, I turned to her, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "For today. For everything."

She returned my smile, her eyes shimmering with affection. "Anytime. I'm here for you, always."

I sat there staring at her, getting lost in her eyes so much that I don't even realize that she's leaning in until she's inches from my lips, she stops and I can feel her breath on me, my own hitching,

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She whispers in a husk against my lips.

"Y-yes." I manage out as she kisses me softly at first, testing the waters, but soon enough she's kissing hungrily, like she's starving for my taste now that's she's had a nibble. My fingers find their way into her hair, getting tangled in her auburn locks. One of her hands is on the back of my neck and the other is on my hip, gripping tightly, I can feel her nails digging in.

The world falls away as our lips meet in a fiery embrace, a collision of passion and longing that ignites every nerve ending in my body. Her kiss is intoxicating, a whirlwind of desire and need that sweeps me away in a tide of sensation.

I lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her lips moving against mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. Our breath mingles in the space between us, hot and heavy with unspoken desire, as the intensity of our embrace grows with each passing moment.

Her hands are everywhere at once, trailing fire along my skin as she pulls me closer, her touch igniting a wildfire of sensation within me. I cling to her desperately, losing myself in the dizzying whirl of pleasure that consumes us both.

Time loses all meaning as we surrender to the passion that binds us together, lost in a world of our own making where nothing else matters but the fiery connection that burns between us.

And as we finally break apart, breathless and trembling, I find myself drowning in the depths of her gaze, a silent promise of more to come lingering in the air between us.

In that moment, I know that this is just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, passion, and endless possibility. And as we cling to each other in the aftermath of our shared passion, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twist of fate that brought us together.

"Bed. Now." Her eyes lit up red for a moment. My Wanda had never been dominate, but this Wanda before me exuded dominance. I didn't waste any time getting up the stairs with her hot on my tail as we crashed into the bedroom, stumbling to the bed in a heat of kisses as she took the leading role.

The air crackled with electricity as we stumbled into the bedroom, our lips locked in a frenzy of passion and desire. Wanda's presence was intoxicating, her aura radiating power and dominance in a way I had never experienced before. And as she took the lead, pushing me onto the bed with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine, I felt myself surrendering to the raw intensity of the moment.

Her kisses were demanding, igniting a fire within me that burned hotter with each passing second. I moaned against her lips, my fingers tangling in her hair as I lost myself in the heat of the moment. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she explored every inch of my skin with a hunger that left me breathless.

With each caress, each whispered word of desire, I felt myself falling deeper under her spell, my body responding eagerly to her every touch. And as she claimed me as her own, I surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the ecstasy of our shared passion.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered but the intoxicating connection that bound us together. And as we moved as one, bodies entwined in a symphony of passion, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

The sensation of relinquishing control, of surrendering completely to someone else's will, was both exhilarating and liberating. As I basked in the warmth of Wanda's dominance, I found myself embracing a side of myself that I had long suppressed, a side that craved the thrill of submission and surrender.

With each touch, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the abyss of pleasure, my mind consumed by a haze of ecstasy that left me breathless and yearning for more. And as Wanda took the lead, guiding me with a firm yet gentle hand, I found myself surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure and desire.

In her arms, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly alive, my body responding eagerly to her every touch and caress. And as we moved together in a symphony of passion and desire, I embraced the freedom that came with letting go, allowing myself to be swept away by the currents of our shared passion.

For in that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful surrender where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as we surrendered to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with exploration, discovery, and boundless pleasure.

"Ah...Wands..." A smack hit my thigh making me jolt and yelp.

"That's not my name Detka." I feel my stomach flip. I call her this all the time. I have for years now, but never in this setting. Another smack and then her teeth find my skin, biting and sucking harshly, marking me.

"Mommy!" I can feel the smirk against my thigh.

"Good girl. Go on. Show me how needy you are baby girl." Her fingers find themselves between my folds as I move my hips against them.

The sensation of her touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through me, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. I arched my back, pressing against her fingers as they explored the depths of my desire, teasing and tantalizing with a skill that left me trembling with need.

"Please," I whimpered, the word spilling from my lips in a desperate plea for more. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she pushed me to the brink of ecstasy.

With each caress, each stroke, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of our shared passion. And as she whispered words of encouragement, urging me to let go and surrender to the pleasure that awaited, I felt myself surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as I succumbed to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

The sensation of Wanda's magic enveloping my wrists sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me, a tangible reminder of her power and dominance. I tested the restraints, feeling the firm hold of her magic as it kept me securely in place, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and arousal.

"Safe word. Green, yellow, red. Green is keep going, yellow slow down, red is stop." Wanda husked.

"Green, yellow, red," I echoed, committing the safe words to memory as a reassurance of our mutual trust and consent. With each breath, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the heady haze of pleasure, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

As Wanda continued to explore my body with a skillful touch that left me trembling with need, I surrendered myself to the ecstasy of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

And as the intensity of our passion grew with each passing moment, I found myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our connection. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

I don't think there is a place she hasn't marked on me in some way and after hours of edging until I couldn't form sentences she finally let me release. A string of moans ripping through me as the most intense waves roll over me as I drown in them, covered in sweat and her marks.

As the waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and spent, I basked in the afterglow of our shared passion, my body still tingling with the echoes of our ecstasy. But just when I thought the intensity had peaked, I felt something pressing against my entrance, a sensation that sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through me.

I gasped, my body instinctively tensing as Wanda's touch ignited a new wave of desire within me. Her fingers teased and tantalized, exploring the depths of my desire with a skill that left me breathless and eager for more.

With each gentle thrust, I felt myself opening up to her, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation. The pleasure was exquisite, a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through every fiber of my being as I lost myself in the blissful abandon of our shared desire.

And as Wanda continued to guide me with a firm yet gentle hand, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our connection, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

Wanda soon enough needed more and so did I, "Faster...ha-ah...harder..." My breath hot against her, panting like a dog and that gave her the perfect opportunity to place her fingers in my mouth, gaging me with them, but I loved every second as I sucked on them, moaning against them as I tasted myself on them from earlier.

The sensation of Wanda's fingers in my mouth sent a thrill of arousal coursing through me, a heady mixture of pleasure and desire that left me panting and eager for more. With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, I eagerly sucked on her fingers, tasting myself on them from earlier.

The taste was intoxicating, a symphony of desire that heightened the intensity of our connection as we moved together in perfect harmony. And as Wanda responded to my pleas with a fervor that mirrored my own, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

With each thrust, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our passion. And as we reached the peak of ecstasy together, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire. And as we surrendered ourselves to the ecstasy of our connection, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

As I slowly regained my senses, the cool towel on the back of my neck and Wanda's comforting presence helped anchor me in reality. Her magic gently caressed my mind, offering reassurance and care as I took in the aftermath of our intense encounter.

"Easy, Detka. You're okay," she murmured, and I found solace in the warmth of her embrace. I took the offered water bottle, sipping slowly as she continued to tend to my well-being. The realization that I had passed out from pleasure left me both surprised and amused.

"Thats never happened before," I admitted with a chuckle. "The other Wanda was more of a sub, so I was usually the one in control. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but being on the receiving end is a whole different experience."

Wanda's magic fetched a baggy shirt, and as I recognized it, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was a shirt from a concert we attended when we were sixteen, a tangible link to our shared past.

"It's good to know not everything is different," I remarked, smiling as she kissed my temple.

In the warmth of our makeshift cocoon, surrounded by blankets and pillows, Wanda's magic weaving a protective barrier around us, we continued to watch 'Bob's Burgers.' However, my focus was no longer on the show; instead, I found myself captivated by the woman holding me close.

A sudden wave of fear and doubt crashed over me as I wondered if this intimate encounter was just a one-time gesture to alleviate my grief. The fear of being tossed aside after a momentary respite haunted my thoughts, threatening to overshadow the joy we had just shared.

Wanda, sensing my internal struggle, gently addressed my concerns. "Hey, woah, Detka. Those thoughts of yours are the farthest thing from the truth. Do not listen to them. I would never do that to my soulmate," she reassured me, her forehead finding mine in a tender gesture of connection.

"I love you, Y/N," she confessed, her words washing away my fears and opening the floodgates to a cascade of happy tears. "I love you, Wands! I didn't think I'd ever get to hear you say those words to me again," I admitted, clinging to her shirt as I sobbed into her.

Wanda's promises echoed in my heart, a vow to cherish and reaffirm our love every day. She kissed away my tears, each tender touch a testament to the depth of her commitment. "I promise I'm going to say it every chance I get. I'm never going to stop. I'm going to remind you every day how beautiful you are and how much I love you, and I promise I'm never going to leave. No missions. Nothing like that. I'll always be by your side," she declared, her own tears mingling with mine.

In that moment, as we drowned in each other's love, I knew that this second chance at happiness was a gift we would both cherish. And as Wanda whispered, "I love you," over and over, I felt the weight of my grief lifting, replaced by the warmth of a love that transcended time and space.

========

In the midst of my peaceful dream, I found myself enveloped in a sense of tranquility unlike any I had experienced in well over a year. Waking up with a smile on my face I turn my head, looking over I gazed upon the sleeping form of Wanda, her features softened by the gentle embrace of slumber, I felt a rush of overwhelming love and affection welling up within me.

With a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I leaned in closer, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of her neck. Each tender touch elicited a soft moan from her lips, a melody of pleasure that echoed through the stillness of the night.

Lost in the intoxicating embrace of our shared intimacy, I continued to shower her with affection, reveling in the warmth of her presence and the depth of our connection. And as I whispered her name, a soft murmur of adoration, I knew that this moment, this fleeting glimpse of happiness, was a treasure to be cherished for all eternity.

As Wanda began to stir awake, her voice still heavy with sleep, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her. Her words, though tinged with a hint of warning, only served to deepen the bond between us.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kotenok," she murmured, her voice laced with sleepiness.

"Shchenok," I corrected gently, a small smile playing on my lips.

Her eyes snapped open at the correction, surprise evident in her expression. "When did you learn that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

I shrugged, the memories of our shared past flooding back to me. "I was with her for like 20 years of our lives. I learned most Russian. Also Natasha, she..." My voice trailed off as Wanda's expression shifted, a wave of sadness washing over her.

"Oh my god, I forgot about Natasha. Is... is she alive here?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

I nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy for the pain she must be feeling. Crawling into her lap, I wrapped my arms around her, offering what comfort I could. "You really lost a lot there, dorogoya," I whispered, my voice soft with compassion. "But don't worry, everyone here is safe. We've apparently had it relatively easy here, it seems."

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, my heart overflowing with love and gratitude for this woman who had endured so much. "Now you have your loved ones back. You aren't alone anymore, and you won't ever be again. I promise."

==============

As the weekend unfolded, Wanda and I remained entwined in each other's arms, our connection deepening with each passing moment. When the boys returned home with their uncle Pietro, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and affection, a tangible sense of family that enveloped us all.

Pietro's hug was tight, filled with an unspoken understanding that transcended words. In his whispered question, "Did you guys finally connect?" I detected a mixture of curiosity and genuine concern.

With a small nod and a soft "Mmhmm," I confirmed what he already knew. This Wanda wasn't his real sister, just as she wasn't the Wanda I had known and loved for decades. But she was here, she was special, and in her embrace, I found a sense of solace and belonging that I had thought lost forever.

==============

As the following Friday arrived, Wanda and I made the decision to gather our friends and family together to share the details of our new lives. It was a momentous occasion, filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension as we prepared to unveil the truth about our extraordinary circumstances.

Gathering our loved ones in a familiar setting, we began to recount the events that had led us to this moment, explaining the complexities of our intertwined destinies and the newfound connections we had forged. With each word, we sought to convey the depth of our emotions, the challenges we had overcome, and the hope that now burned bright within our hearts.

As our gathering unfolded, the emotions in the room were palpable, each hug and embrace a testament to the depth of our shared experiences and the bonds that bound us together.

Wanda's first instinct was to embrace Natasha tightly, their bodies trembling with sobs as they clung to each other. For both of them, it was a moment of overwhelming relief and joy, the realization that they had been given a second chance to be reunited with someone they had feared lost forever.

Next was Clint, the stalwart friend and ally who had saved Wanda countless times in her timeline, offering comfort and support when she needed it most. As they embraced, the weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the trials they had faced and the strength they had found in each other's presence.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family who had become like kin, Wanda and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the bonds that had been forged through adversity. And as we shared stories and memories, laughter mingling with tears, we knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, drawing strength from the love and support that surrounded us.

As our friends and family listened intently, their expressions shifting from surprise to understanding, we felt a sense of relief wash over us. To have our loved ones by our side, supporting us through this journey, was a gift beyond measure.

And as we concluded our explanation, surrounded by the warmth and love of those closest to us, we knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, united in our shared bond and unwavering commitment to one another.

As the night wore on and the festivities continued, Stephen pulled me aside, his expression grave with concern. "You know what she's done in her universe, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

I bristled at his question, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within me. "Do not start this, Strange," I warned, jabbing a finger in his direction. "If I had gone through what she had, this universe wouldn't even exist. What she did, in my eyes, is child's play compared to the horrors she endured."

My words carried a weight of conviction, a steadfast belief in Wanda's resilience and the sacrifices she had made to protect those she loved. And as I met Stephen's gaze, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the depth of Wanda's strength and the magnitude of her courage.

"She threw a tantrum essentially. Took over a town for a bit and then went on a killing spree to get here. I saw it through her eyes. I know if it had been me, you'd be lucky if America had still been standing," I asserted, a hint of steel in my voice as I tapped the power stone embedded in my chest.

The reminder of the immense power at my disposal served as both a warning and a declaration. Wanda's actions in her universe were a testament to the depths of her grief and the consequences of unchecked power. In contrast, I recognized the responsibility that came with wielding such force, a responsibility I vowed to use wisely to protect those I loved.

As the weight of our conversation lingered, Stephen nodded in acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between us. The night continued, but the specter of the past and the potential for the future hung in the air, a reminder that even in moments of celebration, the shadows of our pasts were never truly far behind.

"I don't think you understand, my strength isn't superhuman, it's otherworldly. The precision it requires to ensure I don't break everything around me at any given moment is a delicate balance. With one punch, I wouldn't just put a crater in the earth, I'd break it in half," I emphasized, underscoring the magnitude of the power I possessed.

The distinction between superhuman strength and the cosmic force I wielded was crucial to grasp. While others might possess extraordinary abilities, mine was on a different scale altogether, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality itself. It was a responsibility that weighed heavily on me, requiring a level of control and restraint beyond what most could comprehend.

As I spoke, I could sense the gravity of my words sinking in, the realization dawning on Stephen of the immense power at my command. It was a sobering reminder of the delicate balance between strength and responsibility, a balance that I vowed to uphold no matter the cost.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to remind you-" Stephen began, but I swiftly cut him off, my tone firm yet understanding. "Don't, Stephen. I know you're just trying to help. I don't need the reminder though," I assured him, acknowledging his concern while asserting my own understanding of the situation.

With a nod of acceptance, Stephen backed off, respecting my boundaries and allowing me to return to the comforting embrace of Wanda, who had been engaged in conversation with Natasha and Clint. As I settled back into her arms, the warmth of her presence enveloped me, a reassuring reminder of the love and support that surrounded me.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a quiet reassurance that no matter the challenges we faced, we would face them together, united in our shared bonds and unwavering commitment to one another.

As Wanda continued her conversation with Natasha and Clint, her fingers traced delicate patterns on my hip, their touch a gentle caress that spoke volumes of the journey she had undertaken. Once stained with blood, those same hands now exuded a tenderness and compassion that belied the darkness of the past.

Feeling the soothing rhythm of her touch, I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation Wanda had undergone, the evolution from a place of pain and turmoil to one of healing and redemption. It was a testament to her resilience and strength, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, it was possible to find light amidst the shadows.

In that moment, as her touch danced across my skin, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the woman before me, for the love and forgiveness she had extended, and for the hope that now blossomed within our hearts. And as our conversation continued, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and understanding that had brought us to this moment.

As the room suddenly filled with the energetic presence of our children, along with Clint's youngest and Kate close behind, my boys bounded into mine and Wanda's arms with cries for help. "Moms! Save us from the monster!" they pleaded, their laughter filling the air.

I chuckled as I gathered them close, feeling their warmth and energy envelop me in a comforting embrace. Glancing over, I caught sight of Kate playfully tickling Nathaniel, the mischievous grin on her face confirming my suspicions.

With a smile, I joined Wanda in rescuing our boys from the clutches of the imaginary monster, enveloping them in hugs and laughter as we reveled in the joy of family and friendship. In that moment, surrounded by the ones we loved most, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the blessings that filled our lives, each smile and laugh a reminder of the happiness that awaited us in the days to come.

As the boys began to drift off to sleep in my arms, I couldn't help but smile at the sight. "I think it's time to go, my love," I murmured to Wanda, gesturing towards our sleeping sons. Despite their ten years, I scooped them up effortlessly, their weight feeling light in my arms.

A momentary look of surprise flickered across Wanda's face, her gaze lingering on me as she seemed to momentarily forget about my strength. At just 4'11, I was indeed petite for someone with such power, a fact that often caught others off guard.

With a soft chuckle, I gently adjusted the boys in my arms, their peaceful expressions a testament to the love and security they felt in our embrace. As we prepared to leave, I felt a surge of gratitude for the family we had become, bound together by love and the unbreakable bond of kinship. With Wanda by my side, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our shared love and determination to protect those we held dear.

As I glanced over at Wanda, watching the tender expression on her face as she looked upon our sleeping sons, my heart swelled with love and gratitude. The depth of emotion reflected in her eyes filled me with a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that our family was complete and our bond unbreakable.

In that moment, as we stood together, surrounded by the quiet stillness of the night, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. The love that radiated between us and enveloped our children was a testament to the strength of our connection, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and tempered by the trials we had faced together.

As we prepared to depart, I reached out to take Wanda's hand, intertwining our fingers in a silent gesture of unity and love. With a shared smile, we turned and made our way home, our hearts full and our spirits lifted by the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, as a family.

===========

Wanda and I are on the couch when she asks, "Do you have photo albums of the boys?" I look at her, peeling my eyes from the TV as I pause it.

"Of course." I get up grabbing several albums of almost everything of their lives. "After we left the Avengers I took solace in capturing moments so we have a lot." I tell her as she starts through her pregnancy photos one of every month. Then the hospital photos of her giving birth. The look of pure happiness and bliss on both our faces as we held the boys. Both of us having skin to skin contact with them. As Wanda goes through the albums she starts crying.

"I missed out on so much because of my magic..." she whispered solemnly. "They went from babies, to 5, to 10 all because of words I said...Y/N...I missed everything." Knowing that Wanda had used her magic to create our boys in her universe and not anything like how we had here made her incredibly sad. I hate seeing her like this.

"How about I show you. Their first words, their first steps, everything." With a gentle touch, I leaned in closer to her, resting my forehead against hers as I offered her a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity. Feeling her fingers against my temples, I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to flow, every precious moment from the joyous announcement of her pregnancy to the bittersweet final days we shared together playing out before her.

As the memories unfolded like a vivid tapestry, I watched as Wanda's tears began to subside, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe. Through the magic of our shared recollections, she was able to witness the milestones she had missed, the laughter and love that had filled our home in her absence.

In that moment, as we shared in the memories of our past, I felt a renewed sense of hope blossom within me. Though Wanda may have missed out on so much, I was determined to make every moment from this point forward count, to cherish the time we had together and to create new memories that would fill the void left by the past.

With a gentle smile, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as we basked in the warmth of our shared love. And as the echoes of our memories faded into the night, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our unwavering commitment to one another and to our family.

As I looked into Wanda's eyes, feeling the weight of her sadness and longing, I knew that I had to do everything in my power to ease her pain and make up for the lost time. With a gentle touch, I cupped her cheek in my hand, my thumb brushing away the tears that lingered there.

"Everything with them feels too quick and also a lifetime," I whispered softly, my heart swelling with love and determination. "But now that you're here with us, you'll get to experience it all with me. Together."

In that moment, as we shared in our shared resolve to embrace the present and forge ahead as a family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. No matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our love and commitment to one another.

With a tender smile, I leaned in to press a gentle kiss against Wanda's forehead, silently promising to cherish every moment we shared and to make up for the lost time in any way I could. Together, we would build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless memories, united in our bond as a family.

Once we put the albums away, shut the TV off for the night we headed upstairs. Stopping to look in at the boys sleeping peacefully before heading to our own room, getting ourselves ready for bed. As I climb in, stretching out, Wanda climbs on top of me. I bite my bottom lip, looking up at her. I can see the look she has. I wrap my arms around her neck, gently trying to pull her down. She doesn't budge.

"Did you want something, shchenok?" Between the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, and her in just a tank top of sleep shorts I'm weak to her completely under her not just physically.

"Want you. Need you." I tell her trying again to pull and when she still doesn't budge. I pout and whine. "Wands...please.."

As Wanda's hands worked their magic, binding mine above my head with a delicate yet firm touch, I felt a rush of excitement and anticipation coursing through me. With each tug of her magic, I was rendered powerless, completely at her mercy as she explored my body with a hunger that ignited a fire within me.

"Behave and we'll see where it goes," she husked, her words sending shivers down my spine as she pushed up my shirt, her lips finding purchase on my chest with an intensity that left me breathless. The sensation of her teeth grazing my skin, her tongue tracing patterns across my flesh, sent waves of pleasure radiating through me, making me squirm and writhe beneath her touch.

As I felt myself slipping deeper into subspace, surrendering to the heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability, I couldn't help but lose myself in the moment, giving in completely to the sensations that engulfed me. With each kiss, each caress, I felt myself unraveling, consumed by the overwhelming desire that burned between us.

In that moment, as I surrendered myself to Wanda's tender ministrations, I felt a profound sense of connection and intimacy that transcended the physical realm. With her by my side, I knew that I was safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure, and as I surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, I knew that our bond would only grow stronger with each passing day.

Wanda plays with me and teases me for hours and I can't even remember how many times she's pushed me over the edge of ecstasy. As she brought me to another one as she slammed into me with a magic strap-on she'd conjured up, my mind already drowning in subspace, barely able to form words, but one slips out and then a few more,

"Mommy...gonna...ah-ha...ah..." After my words she sped up leaning down to whisper in my ear,

"That's right cum for Mommy like a good girl. Mommy's gonna cum with you. Gonna fill you up and breed you baby girl." As she whispered those final words in my ear, her voice a husky growl of lust and desire, I felt myself shattering into a million pieces, my entire being consumed by the ecstasy of release. With a cry of pure ecstasy, I let myself fall over the edge, my body trembling with the force of my climax as I surrendered myself entirely to the pleasure that engulfed me. Feeling her fill me up completely made my eyes roll back and the only word I could comprehend was, “Mommy.”

In that moment, as I basked in the afterglow of our shared ecstasy, I knew that I was exactly where I belonged, wrapped in the arms of the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[vapekingg]

accidental i love you’s during sex is sooo steve harrington it’s unbelievable…..

Oh fuck yeah. I'm stoned as shit right now so I got you.

MDNI Steve HarringtonxFem!Reader FWB/Friends to Lovers CW: recreational drug use, choking, unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie

Banner by @inklore

It started as a drunken mistake — hooking up with your best friend.

You and Steve had one too many beers in the parking lot of Family Video after work and ended up in the back seat of his car, windows fogged up and messy handprints leaving evidence of your tryst.

It wasn't a mistake the second time though, or the third.

You and Steve are one too many joints deep after your closing shift together now, the race back to your house was a near bloodbath as you tore at each other’s clothes and gnashed at each other’s flesh. He’s pressed against your back, moving fluidly against you. His breath hot on your ear but chilling your spine, his hips snapping forward to bury you deeper into the mattress.

Steve gets pissed off at work. He needs an outlet, and you’re happy to be just that.

With another rut of his hips, his palm ricochets off of your ass.

“Fuck!” He curses.

His other hand is hooked around your front, fingers lodged deep in your throat. You’ve been drooling around his digits, mouth wide open so that you don’t accidentally scrape him with your teeth.

“Oh my g-fuck…” Steve grinds into you, pushing the swollen head of his cock against the back of your needy cunt.

It’s hours of this. This give and take. This violent brutality pushing you to the edge and then his soothing ministrations tugging you back.

“I fucking love this,” he accentuates his words with a kiss to your shoulder, another stroke of his cock against your walls. “Fucking love it-mmf..”

He tugs his hips backwards just to slam into you again.

“Love this pussy,” he continues, hand creeping over your hip to stroke between your thighs.

“I love this fucking voice,” Steve’s fingers slip out of your mouth and a gush of saliva follows, then you’re gasping for air.

His hand travels down your throat and squeezes the columns gently. You can tell by the twitch of his hips that he’s edging on delirium.

“Love fucking you. Oh my god," His knee shifts, and suddenly his weight is pressing into you. Burying you against sweat-soaked sheets. His teeth scrape against your shoulder and dig into anywhere they can fit: your bicep, your shoulder blade, your neck. He's sinking into you as if you'll never see each other again, as if the world is ending just outside.

"I love you.”

You hear the words, but grenades are detonating in your ears. Steve's precise fingers work frantically between your thighs, toying with your overstimulated clit as you squirm and writhe beneath him.

His hips jerk, he's swelling inside of you, and then you hear it again.

"Fuck, I love you..."

You hear it in the far off corner of your mind as your release hits, and those words carry something with them. Something warm and safe that hadn't been included in this arrangement before. It cradles you during your comedown, provides that cushion between Steve's heavy body and yours and his breath begins to quicken in your ear.

A moment later, it's over. Steve stills inside of you, his length beginning to soften and then slip out, followed by the gush of his release. He's getting heavier, it's getting harder to breathe, and there's a laugh stored in your chest that you can't hold for much longer.

Steve presses a tender kiss to the shell of your right ear and you smile.

"Should we talk about—" You begin.

A breath finally enters your lungs as Steve rolls off of you.

"Nope!" He answers while falling onto his back.

Sweat clings to his chest hair and shimmers in the yellow light provided by the lamp that illuminates the room from the corner. He doesn't ask for permission, this is all routine by now. Steve closes his eyes and throws out his arm, waiting for you to join him at the rib for a post-coital cuddle.

"Well, yes. Tomorrow." He continues.

Finally, that laugh escapes you.

[lucabyte]

Finally: The NoHats AU doodles. Plus some sprite edits.

Usually I'd let things speak for themselves and keep my chattering in the tags, but I'll ramble about my context thoughts...

So. First of all here's a link (x) to the Nohats Origin Post for those coming in and going ????.

Anyway. These doodles are not in any obvious chronological order, though Loop going from pilfered bandolier (my headcanon for how Siffrin has all those pockets) -> custom outfit made by Isabeau, is supposed to generally denote 'just after the ending' -> 'a few months down the line'.

And speaking of, Design & Characterisation notes:

Overall: NoHats is suppooooosed to have the range to not just be ULTIMATE MISERY ALL THE TIME (but if you're a major whump/angst fan. go fucking nuts.) so these are supposed to be. The steps toward overcoming and living with grief but. The Misery Is Kind Of The Punchiest Part.... Oops....

Mirabelle: Taking the lead, continuing to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. In the game proper she's already shown to, while yes, be emotionally fragile at times, be prone to trying to hold the team together. I feel she'd do the same here. It also would help that she'd presumably be medicated again? But I can't imagine her chosen-one anxieities would be super ailed by the death of her friend. I wanted to try and give her more differences? She follows the change belief after all and is thus liable to switch up her style in general... But I didn't have a strong vision for this, so. The ball is in anyone's court. Her design changes here are keeping one of Sif's safety pins a la qpr bonding earring, and has the bell pendant at Loop's (oddly pushy) suggestion.

Isabeau: Taking it. Badly. Depression mullet and beard in tow. However, you best believe he is trying real badly to hide it. Loop very much does not reveal their identity to him because What The Fuck Would That Even Do. That's Scary. but they do try to comfort him while mentally regarding him "off limits". Backs themselves into some very unfortunate corners by alluding to their unfulfilled relationship with their Fighter as a point of common ground. I don't imagine this would go super great when recontextualised later after Loop is inevitably found out. Just in general oh good god what the fuck. this is like a radioactive pit of survivor's guilt.

Bonnie: Taking it probably The Worst. This is a child. Who was already feeling guilt. This is who everyone else is trying to keep it together for. Mirabelle and Isabeau would likely be putting up far less of a front without Bonnie around. They take the hat and take on Pocket Duty. They also have slightly more sif-y hairstyle but... Don't worry about it. They'd have Nille to fall back on once she's picked back up, and Loop almost certainly attempts to redouble efforts on making them feel better but seeing as how closed-off Bonnie can already be, it'd likely be difficult. However they would probably take Loop's identity reveal best...?

Odile: Odile's design.... ! Does not seem to have changed? How odd! Well. I'm sure she's dealing with things in a regular and non-cloistered manner. I already think that a regular Postcanon Activity for Odile could be her finding out about the potential for sif/loop to translate books and thus Knowledge in their native tongue assuming that ability sticks around postgame. Something something culture can never truly be wiped out etc etc. But putting it in this context. Makes it more desperate, more of a deflection for something else.

Loop: Helpful Loop. Well. They win! I feel like the entirety of ISAT being about Siffrin's mental state means I don't need to spill much ink here? You get it I think. I can't outdo the source material man. Anyway I imagine Loop is given clothes by Isabeau before they know who they are, but after they've become genuine friends. The outfit is in genuineness, on both sides from Loop and Isa, in having the cloak be a nod in respect to Siffrin, since Loop's "shared culture" would have to come up vis a vis cultural funerary traditions. Hard to avoid divulging that one...

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves.

idol!jungkook x reader / angst, fluff / word count: 3.7k

content/warnings: they both cry, they’re so in love and anxious of being apart 🥲 pls somebody give my babies a box of tissue damn it!!! / making out :") might be one of my favs i’ve written heh cherry koo ily

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hiii this serves as a prologue kinda to the giving up drabbles <3 and as to not confuse the timeline, this one takes place in sept 2018 and the first giving up drabble june 2019 ^^ hehe reblogs/feedback are appreciated + as always i’d love to chat abt ur thoughts 🥺

—

“i’ll call you when i arrive at the dorm, baby. let’s pack the rest of my things together, hmm?”

you hum softly in agreement, hiding your face on jungkook’s chest so he won’t see you yawn.

you’re so adorable, he thinks to himself with a grin.

matching his outfits with you in preparation for his travels has always been one of the little ways you spend quality time together. yes, you will be physically apart for most of this year and the next… but if he just pushes that fact in the back of his mind for an hour or two so he can make you laugh with his purposely horrendous choices, he thinks he may be able to leave with a lighter heart.

one last kiss is granted to your forehead, and you nuzzle your cheeks against his warm hands to cherish every ounce of his touch you can manage to steal.

you peek from the small space of the door to smile at your lover, which he then returns rife with fondness. you wave and bid your silly bye bye’s to each other, and it’s you who ultimately closes the door despite the voice in your head bewailing its protests.

it creates a clicking sound as you push it all the way, and after that, the defeaning silence fills your apartment like a toxic gas that makes it impossible to breathe. with no other soul left to witness it, your walls involuntarily come crumbling down. your eyes become blurry with unshed tears, and they fall one by one, some getting caught by your eyelashes. they hang heavy until they inevitably roll down your cheeks, as if they’re desperate not to crash and break, as if they’re horrified of their fate towards doom… much like you are.

recognizing the sensation of your weak knees threatening to give way, you lean your forehead on the hardwood to relieve some of the weight burdening your shoulders.

your chores have piled up while you were recklessly spending every second you had left with your boyfriend. you have better things to do than to cry. however, you can’t control your face that contorts to express the pain of having your heart mercilessly squeezed in your chest, tighter and tighter as the distance between you and jungkook grows, and it will only continue to do so.

you wind up as a heap on the floor, an intricate collection of love yet to be given and shards of memories calamitous and beautiful, knees hugged to your chest as you weep.

you swore you wouldn’t do this. you fucking swore you wouldn’t do this to yourself.

since losing your family, you’ve been alone, trying to survive in this world like a leaf in the eye of a storm, carried by a raging river that travels to an unknown sea. you then promised that no matter how much you affection you’ve grown to have for someone, if there comes a time that they make you feel lonely (skin-on-skin or heart-to-heart), you will be the one to walk away first. even if it hurts, even if it leaves you empty inside. for one, you’ve never liked wasting your time. you know what you want and what you need— someone who will stay within reach. your day-to-day life is far too draining for you to find the energy to beg for love and attention… and for the love of god, there’s already too many people you wish were still by your side.

your friends have witnessed you annihilate hearts and egos, leaving behind a string of jaded lovers.

but jungkook, with his bunny-like smile and endless gestures of kindness… has somehow slithered his way into a space in your heart where no one has ever been.

the apartment feels too empty with him not around. he’s not knocking rhythmically at your door from the inside to announce his arrival. he’s not in the kitchen humming songs while chopping vegetables. he’s not in the shower yelling at you because you forgot that turning on the sink makes his water cold. he’s not in the living room watching a movie on your laptop. he’s not snuggled closely with you and snoring execessively by your ear.

it’s going to be like this for a while. it’s always going to be like this, you realize.

you’re so fucking lonely.

you’ve only gotten used to him being here, and now you need to re-learn what it’s like to be without him.

you’re forced to gasp for air as you sob uncontrollably, interrupted by occasional hiccups that make your body jolt. you taste the salt in your tears as they seep into the crevice between your lips, can feel them beginning to poison your skin.

you let jungkook come too close. he slept on your bed and he learned that you’re always cold. he enveloped you in the safety of his warm embrace and you couldn’t will yourself to leave after the first time. you’ve surrendered to him the control over your body, and also your heart, which you may be breaking alongside your rule but… walking away would mean forsaking yourself.

for the first time, you are crying not because of the absence of love, but the abundance of it. humans are essentially a collection of dead stars that are brought back to life when they are consumed by the electric ache of love and yearning. you are addicted to the antidote that is the touch of another body that burns the same.

you’re free falling.

if you were to choose the cause of your madness, you would choose this.

because for the first time, you are not cursing a name, but the universe and its twisted ways. in your one-bedroom apartment, you don’t feel small; your arrogance is as big as the sun that threatens to swallow the earth whole. the empty space on your bed is now in the shape of the man who loves you.

the back of your head hits the door, and you sigh at the new predicament that presents itself to you: the fluorescent lightbulb at your doorway is flickering as if to signal its impending death.

your bad vision begs you to look away.

it’s too high. it’s too high for you to reach. jungkook isn’t here anymore.

you bury your face in your hands, another wave of tears spilling over before you could get a hold of yourself. your cries are unapologetic; you sound like a little child who got their hair pulled at the playground.

you would much rather wait for him than find a solution. you want to bear the weight of him in every possible way there is. you want to have him in mind every time you flip the light switch, because you always seem to forget that it’s dying after a long day at school.

but for now, all you can do is sit on the floor and smell his perfume on your clothes as you wait for his call.

—

jungkook is still frozen on the driver’s seat, struck with a suspicion that he left something behind in your apartment, but he can’t figure out what else there is besides his heart in the palm of your hands.

he opens up every single compartment of his backpack, but he soon carelessly discards it at the backseat because he has no idea what it is he’s even looking for.

“what is it? what is it? what is it?” he mutters absentmindedly to himself, wide doe eyes still actively darting around the car as he mulls over what could possibly be missing. “am i an idiot? am i just making things up in my head?”

but he is leaving for tour after all, it would be a big headache if he forgets to bring something important.

something important such as…

proceeding with a final inspection, he starts patting around his body, from his chest down to the pockets of his sweatpants.

“ahhh-” he makes a noise of enlightenment when he discovers one of them to be completely empty.

it then becomes vivid in his mind— the memory of him lazily setting down his wallet on your study table before he crawled on your single-sized bed as if it’s his own.

“…shit. i need to go back.”

—

he has a smirk plastered on his face as he jogs his way up to your apartment floor. radiating with pure excitement unbeknownst to himself, he even begins to skip a step with every long stride he makes across the staircase.

thanks to his forgetfulness, he found an excuse to be with you for a few minutes more.

the fourth door straight ahead, he still remembers chanting in his head the first time he visited your building on his own.

he stands before it with the intention to surprise you, but ironically, he is the one who ends up freezing in place. your muffled sobs escape through the narrow cracks of the door, and his hand slowly slips away from the handle until it drops back to his side. his vision becomes unfocused, mind going blank, only registering the shortness of his breath and the powerful punch to his gut.

that sweet, heart-fluttering smile that comforted him must’ve killed you inside.

—

“i won’t forget to call after every show.”

“that does sound nice but…” you scrunch your nose cutely. “i won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re worried about. go straight to sleep when you’re exhausted. i know you won’t have much time to rest.”

“please! you can watch me sleep too.” he pouts. “you know i always make it work. while i eat, while i shower! that won’t change. i need to see you and gain strength… or else i seriously think i won’t survive this one.”

and jungkook hopes that he’s not too much of a burden for loving you.

although, you did tell him once in passing— that anyone can be passionate, but not everyone will bravely go on stage every night to showcase those passions, even if it means testing the very limits of the human body.

“i can’t allow that to happen, can i?” you click your tongue, copying the angry frown of your boyfriend, who you find so, so, so cool.

his features soften after you pinch his soft cheek.

“your hyungs might kill me if i make their little one mope around missing me too much.”

“w-what do you mean?” he becomes flushed with embarrassment. “what kind of things do they tell you?!”

“nothing much.” your eyes shine with a glint of faux innocence. “when we were trainees, jungkook did this… since meeting you, he’s gotten more stubborn… can you tell him to wake up earlier if he plans on showering for an hour? you know, just things like that.”

“aish! jimin-hyung!” he releases a deep sigh to express his exasperation, knitted forehead not doing much to diminish the roundness of his eyes. “i bet one of them is jimin-hyung! i’m right, aren’t i? you- you’re getting too close with him! i can’t allow this- really, i- ah! no! no!”

the burst of laughter that fills the room only confirms his suspicion. you roll over on the bed to cover your face, half of your body collapsing on top of his, and you clutch your aching belly when he begins to aggressively shake you in a joking manner.

“listen, you can’t become best friends! you hear me? don’t! my secrets… what’s going to happen to them? who else can i tell them to?!”

immediately recognizing his poor choice of words once they have left his mouth, jungkook purses his lips in regret, and it’s his turn to feel his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“oh, really?” you slowly sit up as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. “and what kind of secrets do you need to keep from me? huh?”

he doesn’t waste a second to reply, scrambling as to not leave any space for you to formulate more doubts in your head.

“nothing! nothing, baby!” he flashes a dreamy smile in return to your sharp glare. he gently cups the back of your head to pull you back closer, puckering his lips as he tries to meet you halfway. “come here- give me a kiss.”

you ignore his advances, moving away from him with a scoff you don’t even bother to hide. the annoyance bubbling up inside of you feels irrational, and yet you can’t stop it from controlling your body language.

his jaw slacks in disappointment. he despises being denied affection, more importantly, a kiss meant to be shared with you.

“are you mad?”

you turn your back against him, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, but jungkook doesn’t waste time in chasing after you.

“baby!” he whines, seizing your arm and tightly embracing you from the side before you can escape. “i was just joking- i promise- i swear. you’re even the first person i share my secrets with nowadays!”

you sigh in defeat, eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to caress your face and pepper your cheek with loving kisses. loud, and slightly wet, which you used to not be fond of when it came to the lovers you had before, but as for jungkook and his dewy lips, you weirdly don’t seem to mind.

“please don’t be mad.” he coos lightheartedly before ducking his head to press his lips against yours. “i don’t want us to fight before i go.”

“i’m not mad.” your reply is quiet, and it drips with hesitance. “i just don’t want to think about you having secrets while you’re away.”

you turn to communicate directly with his eyes. if you feel sick to your stomach imagining him as a person you’d never have the grace to forgive, you don’t show it.

“you understand where i’m coming from, right?”

he meekly nods.

this is another reason why he is eager to spend all his free time with you, albeit through a screen smaller than the palm of his hand, and perhaps buy you trinkets from every city that welcomes him because everything reminds him of you. he wants to give you the reassurance that he doesn’t have any plans on doing something that may hurt you. this will be excruciating, he knows, but it is also a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend worthy of your tears and sacrifices. this can’t end before it begins. he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear that. he just celebrated his first birthday with you. it hasn’t been long since you uttered the three words he’s been anxiously waiting to hear.

“i love you. please give me your trust for now… i won’t waste it. you’ll see, at the end of this, we’ll be stronger. i promise i won’t forget my responsibilities as your partner even if we’re physically apart.”

he tenderly strokes your hair, eyes filled with galaxies memorizing every inch of your face. he’s scared, too. he’s scared that he’s overestimating himself. too ambitious, too greedy for wanting both the world and the most beautiful person he has ever seen in it to love him. he’s scared of getting too exhausted. he’s scared that you won’t be there anymore when he opens his eyes.

“i will probably mope around, though, missing you too much…” he pauses, then he makes up his mind.

him getting more stubborn since he met you— it might just have some truth to it that he’s too sheepish to say out loud, especially if his members were around to hear it.

“yes, i will seriously be a handful.” he nods to himself. “so i’m already apologizing early.”

“what are those responsibilities exactly?”

“to show you that i love you!” he exclaims in a tone that screams obviously. “to make you happy, to keep you safe… to stay committed to you- yah, you already know these things!”

but still, it’s nice to hear him say it. this bed of roses is a bed of thorns; he has chosen to sleep on it with you.

you giggle heartily at the sight of his face getting flushed. “you’ve been doing a great job then, baby.”

the praise causes his doe eyes to sparkle with glee. “really?”

“really!” his heart skips a beat when you softly cup his face in your hands, wearing that kind smile he can’t help but fall in love with over and over again. “don’t worry, i won’t let you miss me too much. i have my share of the responsibilities too.”

—

he swallows the lump in his throat, shakily sitting on the floor with his back against the door. he doesn’t know how long he stays there. he only knows that it’s near sunrise because the lights across the hallways have gone out one by one.

with an elbow resting on top of his knee, he fiddles with the laces of his shoe with no rhythm or rhyme— silently crying with you, clueless as to what he should do. he didn’t learn about this in school, nor during dance practices. no one teaches you what to do when you hurt a person you love but there’s no fault to fix and apologize for.

every now and then, a tenant passes by, and he is overwhelmed with the urge to scream at them to fuck off and mind their own business.

adding to his frustration is his phone, which has been vibrating with calls and text messages. he only spares them a dismissive glance before clicking the off button. yes, he fucking knows it’s already 5am. yes, he’s still with his baby. however, he is forced to send a reply to his manager when asked if they could finish packing his luggages for him to save time. no. no, no, no.

on the other side of the door, the pitter-patter of mechanical rain tickles your ears. your nimble fingers doesn’t cease on tapping on the keyboard even as your eyes stray to the contact name above the conversation, just to make sure that it’s your boyfriend you’re texting.

to: my jungkook

babyyy the sun is about to rise

so i’m not sleepy anymore :(

you're not home yet?

wait. if you're still driving just reply later

be a good driver before a good bf for now ☺️

ohoh i don’t mind if you don't have time to call anymore. just text me rq before you take off pleaseee so i know you're safe and sound

and after the flight ofc!! 😭

i love you! ❤️

seconds later, a pounding at the door makes your body jolt in shock. you carelessly rush to stand up, the safety measure of looking through the peephole not even crossing your mind before you swing it open.

jungkook stuns you with his presence, chest heaving with every breath as he studies you in a fog of haze. your messy hair perfectly frames your pretty face. your parted lips are raw from the crime of your sharp teeth forcibly putting an end to your crying. your eyes are still damp with tears, and they shine every time the warm light hanging above your head flickers.

if you could only read his mind, you won’t have to worry about him wanting anybody else.

once again, he finds himself helplessly infatuated. why do you have to look utterly bewitching even when you cry? fuck, and your texts… how did he get so lucky? you fuel something carnal inside of him that he has difficulty putting into words.

and so, he allows his actions to speak for himself.

“jungk-” his name is interrupted with a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. your trembling hands desperately grasp the sides of his hoodie as you stumble backwards, struggling to recriprocate the unrestrained fervour of his kisses.

he’s out of control. he has never kissed you like this before. you don’t know if he doesn’t feel your weak fists punching his chest or he just doesn’t care. you feel dizzy… dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

you’re confused why he’s still standing at your doorway. you’re terrified of losing your balance. you’re crushing a pair of sneakers underneath the soles of your feet and it hurts. but his fingers are tightly tangled with your hair, the others playing a saccharine hymn along the keys of your spine, and for the pleasure he gives, you can endure to live with the pain.

the familiar taste of mint on his tongue is far too addictive for you not to indulge. you can’t stop craving for more of it, more of him, and you let your lungs burn.

but soon it mixes with the salt in his tears as his emotions crash on the shore like a tsunami. the seal of your lips is broken by a quiet sob, and in shame, he ends the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“____, what do i do? i don’t want to leave.”

your heart shatters into pieces as he sniffles, voice cracking as he musters up the courage to confess to you in between.

“jungkook…”

the words of sincerity feel heavy on his tongue. he’s never been good at this; always relied on his ability to feel. in spite of that, he wants to bare all of himself to you, and he prays that you believe him when he says- “i can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“so don’t. you don’t have to think about things like that.” you sigh as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, subtly swaying your bodies to soothe him. “come on, love. why are you crying…? you know where to find me, don’t you?”

you feel him nod before he mumbles pensively. “here… or school, or the restobar.”

“that’s right.” you chuckle. “just don’t lose your key. i’m not going anywhere.”

but he fears it’s his goddamn mind he might just lose. he squeezes his eyes shut, embracing you tighter as he counts the seconds in his head. he will let go after thirty, then perhaps he will stay for another ten.

in another lifetime, jungkook wishes that he could tell you the same.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[latanyalove]

Your Dream

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Pairing: Monkey D Luffy x Y/N

Content: You remembered the reason why you joined Luffy's crew.

A/n: I thought of this idea at 3AM. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! <3

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

"So Y/N, what is your dream?" Luffy asked you as you both sat on the Sunny's head, the wind blowing through your hair and the sound of waves crashing in the distance.

"Dream?" you repeated, your mind drifting to a distant place.

"Yeah!" Luffy chuckled, "Like I want to be the King of the Pirates!"

You stared out at the vast ocean, searching for an answer to Luffy's question. But no matter how hard you tried, nothing came to mind. The truth was, you didn't have a dream yet, and that uncertainty weighed heavily on your heart.

Growing up with a drunk father and a wicked mother in a country where such circumstances were unfortunately common, dreams seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford.

You yearned for stability and a sense of belonging, which made finding your own dream all the more challenging.

You remembered your father saying to you, "Dreams are for people who aren't able to accept their fate, people who can't accept their destiny in this world."

Days after he had said that, the whole country was set ablaze, killing everyone except you. In the midst of the chaos and devastation, you found yourself standing alone, carrying the weight of your past and the uncertainty of your future.

You thought that you were fated to die with your family, your friends, and your country in order to fulfill your destiny.

That's until you saw a hand stretching towards you in the midst of the rubble and debris, and you thought it was the world telling you to rest. But as you looked closer, you realized that it was a stranger.

The stranger had a straw hat tilted to the side, casting a shadow over his eyes, and he wore a vibrant red vest that stood out against the backdrop of destruction. His grin was infectious, revealing a genuine warmth and a glimmer of mischief that awakened something within you.

"Hey! Are you okay? My name is Monkey D Luffy and I'm going to be the King of the Pirates. You wanna join my crew?" He asked as if he was oblivious to the destruction around him.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

But something in Luffy's unwavering determination and genuine belief in his dream sparked a flicker of hope within you. With a smile on your face, you nodded and took his hand, pulling yourself up off the ground.

As you joined Luffy's crew, you realized that your destiny was not to die with your family and country, but to embark on a thrilling adventure as a pirate.

Maybe your destiny was to be with him. . . .

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

"Y/N," Luffy's voice brought you back to reality as he tapped your shoulder gently. You turned to him, realizing that you had been lost in your thoughts for a moment.

"Yes Luffy?" you asked, mustering the realest smile you could make.

Luffy saw through your fake smile immediately, his eyes narrowing with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" you asked, attempting to deflect his concern.

Deep down, you knew that you couldn't hide your true emotions from Luffy for long.

Luffy replied, "You're crying, and that's not like you at all. What's going on? You can talk to me, you know."

You quickly touched your face and realized that you were actually crying. You tried to wipe away the tears, but they kept coming, betraying the emotions you had been trying so hard to hide. It was as if your tears had a mind of their own, refusing to be held back any longer.

"You know you don't have to keep it in anymore," Luffy muttered, pulling you into a side hug since you were sitting down.

The warmth of his embrace made it impossible to hold back any longer, and you buried your face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely.

As you cried into Luffy's shoulder, you couldn't help but grab the back of his vest tightly for comfort, feeling a sense of relief as you let out all the pent-up emotions that had been weighing you down.

His presence was a soothing balm to your wounded soul, reminding you that you didn't have to face your struggles alone.

You are my dream, you thought but you would never dare to say it to him.

In that moment, as you cried into Luffy's shoulder, you realized that he had become more than just a friend to you. Your heart longed to express your feelings, but the fear of rejection held you back.

As the tears subsided and you found solace in Luffy's embrace, exhaustion finally caught up with you. You didn't even notice when you started to drift to sleep, your head resting on Luffy's shoulder, knowing deep down that you were safe and protected in his presence.

"Luffy!- Oh, I didn't know you were busy," a voice said behind us, but you didn't move.

Even though you were half asleep, you could still recognize Nami's voice from a mile away. Despite feeling vulnerable in that moment, you trusted Luffy to handle the situation and protect you, so you remained in his embrace, knowing that he would shield you from any harm.

"It's okay, what do you need," Luffy asked, turning his head round to glance at Nami. His voice was calm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the vulnerability you felt in that moment.

"We're approaching a new island,"

You felt his head turn toward you as he made a low, thoughtful humming sound, the vibrations of it soothing your tired mind.

"I don't see it,"

"The island is covered by an invisible barrier and. . . ." Nami started but stopped with hesitance, unsure of how to continue.

"What is it?" Luffy's tone changed to being serious once hearing Nami's hesitance, his brows furrowing as he prepared himself for the potential danger that lay ahead.

"The island," Nami repeated. "It's the same one that destroyed Y/N's country."

Luffy's grip on you tightened slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. "We won't let that happen again," he said firmly, his voice filled with determination. "We'll just face whatever danger awaits us and protect her." . . .

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆

Part 2? Comment if you want it. Please support by reblogging, liking and sharing!

[runariya]

hhiii!! im thinking a lot about a jungkook ex & loml he would be so cute arrrghl

🎤 n maybee 🥰+🤫 ?

(idolverse+fluff+smut) part of the prompt game pairing: idol!Jungkook x ex-gf! female reader genre: idolverse, Exes2L, fluff, smut warnings: references to a few good and bad milestones of BTS, allusion to oral (m. receiving), breakup, mentions of one (1) dating attempt of OC, mentions of 190811 JK because duh, Jungkook is a petty ex, various hair colours, Times Square JK, fluff, smut, they’re both needy and desperate, big dick JK, possessiveness, dirty talk, bad language, face grabbing, mouth spitting, kind of dry humping but without clothes (?), slight dom!JK, babygirl, unprotected sex (you should all be old enough to know the consequences), slight breeding kink, hair pulling, love confessions, rough and desperate sex, a little bit of angst, Jungkook is a romantic, naked proposal, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 2.512

a/n: guess who got a bit carried away with this ask? THAT'D BE ME! 🥸

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You lived through it all. Through every storm and golden dawn alike, you’ve walked beside him—Jungkook, through the raw and uncertain trainee years, standing shoulder to shoulder when he made that long-awaited debut with your other friends, with the cheers of a scattered handful of ARMYs filling the gaps of an empty room. And you—always there, even when unjustified criticism hit them like fists in the dark, when the suffocating shadows of hate and pushbacks tried to choke out their light. You were there when sleepless nights were a currency, and saesangs turned life into a nightmare not fit for the faint-hearted. You were there during all those late-night talks, when exhaustion and doubt dragged them to the brink of disbandment, and you—you, held onto them with all the strength you had left.

You lived through it all. You walked this path with him, through the milestones of glory—their first triumphant entrance on the Billboard 200, the moment they lent their voices to a UNICEF campaign, the awe that filled you as you stood in the last rows of that historic U.N. speech, watching them rise and rise as if they could never stop. You were there when the sold-out stadiums roared, when Jungkook’s nerves shook just before he walked onto that colossal stages, and in the quiet moments behind the curtains, you became his grounding, his release—your lips open, throat pulsing around his dick as the world waited for him to sing.

Once, you believed, truly, that what you had was unbreakable, a love of once-in-a-lifetime, and you knew—*knew*—that Jungkook felt it too. It was there, lingering in every glance, every touch, every whispered word. And because, when the breaking point finally came, when one triumph followed another, when at long last, *finally*, the whole world, not just ARMY, recognised their worth, when the frantic pace of success nearly swallowed them whole, you made your decision. You walked away—not out of lost love, no, never that. Love was still there, burning too fiercely for words. But you thought you were sparing him, thought you were freeing him from another tether, another weight pulling him down, when his focus should be solely on his dream, his passion. You thought, perhaps, you were doing the right thing, even despite the way his pleas and tears seared themselves into your memory, begged you to stay, haunting you even now, even when your eyes aren’t closed. 

Those days after the breakup—they were bitter and cold—not easy, not for either of you. You saw him on screen, thriving, yes, but hurting in a way you knew all too well. The incident in November 2019—your first and only date after the split, after Jungkook, when a stitch couldn’t leave his mouth shut, reaching Jungkook’s ears, and suddenly his performance at the Lotte Family Concert became something else altogether—savage, fierce, almost a message to you, reverberating through the very core of your being. Something shifted the air back then, in him, in you, in the whole world.

You realised then, that Jungkook wasn’t just an ex, but a petty one at that. You should have known better. One offhand comment in passing to his mother about his hair—how you missed the look of it untouched by dye, lamenting that his soft, natural locks were lost beneath the constant colouring—and suddenly, every week he was colouring it anew, as though each hue was a small act of rebellion against you. The games continued—the thirst traps, the little taunts, even in every piece of merch he touched, designs you once dreamt up together in those hazy trainee years. You, lying beside him in the cramped dorm, building fragile sandcastles of what could be, of dreams yet unspoken. And now, those same castles crumbled as he used them to fuel his quiet, calculated rebellion.

And yet, somehow, it was still a surprise when the text arrived. Jungkook himself, inviting you to his surprise gig at Times Square. You hesitated, wrestling with your pride, your pain. But in the end, for old times’ sake, you relented—just one last favour, you told yourself.

And now, here you stand. He had slipped out of the room just after you arrived, and you watch from the window as the world goes wild, Jungkook commanding the stage as effortlessly as he breathes. The ache within you deepens, the love, the longing—they haven’t dimmed in all those years, not even for a moment.

When he finally returns, still glistening with sweat, fresh from the exhilaration of the performance, his presence floods the room, the light he is piercing every fibre of your being. 

"Hey," he breathes through his panting, that soft voice slipping through the air like a secret only you are meant to hear. He smiles, and the familiarity of it twists your gut in the worst way possible. He grabs and drowns a bottle of water in one go, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that sends your heart skipping, unbidden.

And you, standing there, trying to hold your composure as the man who once was yours invades your very senses. Every drop of sweat that trickles down his neck, every movement of his tattooed arms, every unspoken memory lingering in the air. You can’t stop the surge of arousal, the way your body betrays you as your thighs press together, seeking some small relief from the tension he brings.

And when Jungkook motions for you to sit beside him on that small loveseat, your legs, weak and trembling, carry you there almost on instinct. His thigh brushes against yours as he sits down, the touch so achingly familiar it almost hurts too much to bear. You feel that old connection, sparking back to life with everything said, with everything kept in silence between you.

“I invited you here for a reason,” he murmurs, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, the sincerity in his gaze captivating your every thought. "I can’t keep on going like this," he continues after a short pause, voice weighted with something deeper than exhaustion, something that seems to eat him alive.

You respond with a gentle push, instinctively deflecting, faking an easygoing happiness. "But you're doing so well, Jungkook. Your dream’s finally yours. You can’t walk away now."

“It’s not about that,” he replies, quieter now, as though his resolve softens in the space between your words.

Jungkook straightens, taking your hand, his inked fingers finding yours with that familiar tenderness, like all the lost days between you never happened. He strokes your soft skin, the gesture so achingly reminiscent of the way he used to hold you, back when the world somehow seemed simpler, back when the two of you were all you needed.

His voice deepens, the softness in his tone soothing like your very personal lullaby. "I can’t live another day without you by my side." 

His words shake your heart, each syllable removing the distance that time and hurt had created. Your eyes tremble, silver lining your lash line, as silence is everything that escapes your mouth. 

Jungkook leans in, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I love you,” the confession rolling from his lips like something inevitable, as though it was always meant to be spoken, in the past, in this moment, and in every possible future. “I still love you, with everything I am. And I know you feel it too. Let’s not try again—we’re beyond that. I know we’re meant to be. Let’s just be together.”

Your lips quiver as the dam finally breaks, silent tears slipping down your cheeks. There’s no noise, no grand release, just a quiet cascade of everything you’ve held in and pushed back for so long. And in that stillness, you finally find your voice, speaking every word out of the depth of your soul. “Yes, Kook, please.”

Your lips crash into his with a force that makes your whole body tremble. You push him back with such ferocity that he’s not able to keep sitting upright, and before you know it, you’re climbing on top of him, his hands digging into your sides, pulling you closer, as though he could never have you close enough. His tongue teases along your lips, the cool metal of his lip piercings brushing your skin, sending another wave of hot arousal out of you. You open your mouth, letting him in. His taste is the same—mint drops, just like all those years ago—and it awakens a hunger in you, a longing that has only grown more ravenous with time.

Your fingers tangle in his soft hair, pulling at it, at the black fabric of his dress shirt, ripping the buttons open as though the world outside doesn’t exist. Jungkook is just as frenzied, stripping you of your clothes, his own following without a beat, the desperation between you highlighting, almost painful, as if trying to make up for all the lost time. You’ve seen him on screen, admired the way his body has changed, matured, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of him. Jungkook looks like a greek god carved from marble, every muscle sculpted to perfection, and his cock stands proud, thick and throbbing like a prize waiting to be claimed.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he rasps, pulling you up with him, your legs wrapping around his tiny waist, your slick cunt brushing against him with each step he takes.

Jungkook carries you to the table nearby, lips never leaving yours, kissing you as though he might devour you, and as his mouth travels down your neck, over your collarbone, and to your breasts, as he sweeps everything off the table with a careless shove, lowering you onto it, you think you found euphoria just then.

“Jungkook,” you moan, arching into him as his tongue flicks over your nipple, his hand pinching and twisting your other, his hips grinding against your dripping core with a raw need that nearly sends you spiralling right then and there.

“I’m going to chain you to me,” he growls against your skin. “Going to fuck you until you’re too dumb to walk away again.”

“Yes,” you whimper, as your body clenches and trembles, your release washing over you like a wave, too intense to hold back, the stimulation from his hands, his mouth, his cock rubbing against your slick folds just too overwhelming.

“Fucking scream my name,” he demands, grabbing your face roughly, forcing your mouth open with his thumb and forefinger.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, his cock sliding through your wetness as you come down from your high. You try to close your mouth, but he spits into it, his eyes dark with lust, watching you swallow with a mix of satisfaction and need.

“That’s right, babygirl,” he smirks lazily. “I’m going to fuck you stupid now. You’re still on birth control?”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe, trembling as he grabs his cock, pumping it a few times before lining up with your entrance, clenching in anticipation.

“Shame,” he growls, his words dripping with dark desire. “Would love to fuck a baby into you, show everyone who you belong to.”

His words make you moan, your body responding to the filthy promise in his voice. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, baby girl?” he grins.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, dragging your mouth to his as he thrusts into you, his cock filling you completely, stretching you in a way that brings a sharp, sweet pain, the kind of pain you’ve been craving for years. You cry his name into his mouth, every inch of you vibrating with the sensation of him.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he groans. “You’re the fucking love of my life.” His pace picks up, becoming relentless, his hips slamming into you, desperate to make up for all the years you were apart.

You drink him in, the sight of him so raw and beautiful—his eyebrows drawn together, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back in ecstasy. His hands grip the back of your knees, pulling you towards him, keeping you close as he drives into you over and over, the rough surface of the table scraping your lower back. His balls and thighs slap against your ass with such force that you know you’ll be bruised, but you welcome it. You embrace every desperate thrust, every rough touch, pouring all of yourself into this moment.

“Fuck, Jungkook, I’m coming,” you cry out, gripping his arms for support, feeling yourself unravel under the intensity of it all.

“Fucking come for me! Cream my cock like you’re made for it.”

His words send you over the edge, your body shattering into a million stars, as brilliant and infinite as the ones that glimmer in Jungkook’s eyes when he looks down at you. And you know, in that moment, that you’re home. Truly home, where everything makes sense.

Your cunt clenches around him, and that’s all it takes to push him into his own release. He lets out a deep, guttural groan, his body buckling over you as he empties himself inside you, his breath mingling with yours, his heart pounding against your chest, both of you lost in the blissful haze of it all.

You stroke the back of his head tenderly, feeling his racing heartbeat gradually slow, matching the rhythm of your own.

When you both finally come down from the high, you lock eyes. His boyish smile spreads across his face, just like it did all those years ago, and you can’t help but mirror it.

“Chain me to you, hm?” you tease, your eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “That’s not the romantic Jungkook I know.”

A blush creeps up his cheeks and ears as he pulls out of you, grabbing the discarded tissue box from the floor to clean you both up without saying a word. But you notice the growing tension in his body, the slight shift in his demeanour, and a flicker of unease stirs in you.

“Kook?” you ask carefully, but he only glances at you briefly before turning to his duffel bag in the corner of the room, rummaging through it.

When he turns back around, your heart plummets to the floor. It’s not fear or worry that seizes you, but the overwhelming brightness of joy, happiness so intense it almost paralyses you.

“I’ve carried this with me since our first stadium tour,” he says softly, stepping closer. “But I was always too scared I wasn’t enough.”

He kneels before you, still naked, and you don’t allow yourself to breathe, to blink. “___, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

Tears stream from your eyes once more, and you nod, unable to speak for a moment, your heart bursting like a confetti gun with every emotion under the sun. Finally, you whisper, “Yes,” and kiss him, knowing without a doubt that he’s the one. Always was, always will.

[novaursa]

heyy

Can you make a Jace x twin sister x aemond

She was very close with aemond when she was younger coz she didn’t have any dragon. And she was even engaged to him but after he loses his eyes their engagement went off.

She still had feeling for him and they often exchanged mail but Rhaenyra chooses to married Jace with her.

time pass she is now with Jace, but when her grandfather died she was sent with her brother Luke, aemond see her and want her for himself again.

he chase her in the sky (obsession like not to arm her) and he almost kill her but he rescue her just in time.

Aemond took her to king’s landing to be with him, and when Jace know he become furious

Stormbound

- Summary: You and Aemond were promised to one another since childhood. And when Aemond lost an eye, he also lost you. But the dragon doesn't deal with absolutes.

- Paring: Aemond Targaryen/velaryon!reader/Jacaerys Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The requests are closed!

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've bonded reader with Grey Ghost, so this plot makes more sense. Also, Lord Borros can read in this one.

The sea breeze carries the scent of salt and wildflowers as you wander through the gardens of Driftmark. Though it was a somber day—a funeral of your aunt Lady Laena Velaryon. You walk beside Aemond, the soft grass beneath your feet muffling your steps. Though just children, you feel the weight of your family's history and the expectations placed upon you. The lush gardens are a refuge, a place where you and Aemond can escape the ever-watchful eyes of your elders.

Aemond’s hand brushes against yours, his fingers briefly lingering before he pulls away, his cheeks flushing with a hint of pink. You glance at him, noticing the way his silver hair catches the sunlight, shimmering like the scales of the dragons you both so desperately wish to ride. But neither of you has yet bonded with one. It's a shared pain, a bond that sets you apart from the other Targaryen children.

"I will have a dragon one day," Aemond declares, his voice full of determination. He always speaks with such confidence, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. "And when I do, I will take you flying above the clouds, where no one can reach us."

You smile at the thought, imagining the two of you soaring through the skies together, free from the burdens of your families and the complex web of alliances and rivalries that bind you. "And what if I get my dragon first?" you tease, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

Aemond's expression softens as he meets your gaze. "Then you will take me with you, won't you? We could fly to the ends of the world, just you and me."

The wind rustles the leaves around you, creating a soft, whispering sound, as if the garden itself is urging you closer to each other. You feel a warmth in your chest, a comfort that only Aemond seems to bring you. You've known him all your life, and though the world outside may be full of uncertainty, when you're with him, everything seems to make sense.

You reach a secluded spot, hidden away from the rest of the world, where the flowers bloom in vibrant colors, and the trees form a natural canopy above. Here, in this little haven, you can be just children, free from the expectations of your titles.

Aemond stops suddenly and turns to you, his expression serious. His violet eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. "Do you know why I spend so much time with you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilt your head, curious. "Because we are friends," you reply, though you sense there is something more he wants to say.

"Yes, we are," he agrees, taking a step closer. "But it's more than that. You are... you're my future."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you feel a strange flutter in your chest, one that you haven't felt before. "What do you mean, Aemond?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly.

He takes a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to say what has been on his mind for a long time. "My father and your grandsire, King Viserys, spoke to me not long ago. He told me that I am to marry you one day. Our families have agreed upon it. He said that when we're older, we will be wed."

The revelation leaves you momentarily speechless. You knew that your future would likely involve a political marriage, but to hear that it had already been decided—and to Aemond, of all people—feels both overwhelming and strangely comforting.

Aemond reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours again, but this time, he doesn’t pull away. "I know we're still young, and maybe you don't think about such things yet," he continues, his voice soft and earnest. "But I want you to know that I look forward to it. Being with you, as your husband. Protecting you. Caring for you. I want to make you happy, as you make me."

You stare at him, trying to process his words. Aemond has always been there for you, a constant presence in your life, and the thought of him as your husband... it doesn’t frighten you as much as you thought it might. In fact, it feels right, as if it were meant to be.

"And you," he adds, his voice trembling slightly with emotion, "you will be my wife."

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you duck your head to hide it, but Aemond gently lifts your chin, his touch tender. "You don't have to say anything now," he assures you. "I just wanted you to know. So that you never have to wonder where you stand with me."

You nod, your throat tight with emotions you don't quite understand. "I... I don't know what to say, Aemond. But I do know that you're important to me. You always have been."

Aemond smiles then, a genuine smile that lights up his face in a way that you rarely see. "That's all I needed to hear."

For a moment, the world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this hidden corner of the garden. As you stand there, hand in hand, you know that your bond will only grow stronger with time.

The sound of distant laughter breaks the moment, and you both turn to see Jacaerys running towards you, his smile wide and carefree. He calls your name, beckoning you to join him, and for now, you allow yourself to be a child once more, running through the gardens with your brother and Aemond.

But in the back of your mind, you carry Aemond’s words with you, feeling a small spark of excitement for the life you will one day share with him.

The journey back to Dragonstone feels longer than usual, the silence within the ship heavy and suffocating. The waves crash against the hull, the only sound breaking the stillness, but even that seems muted, as if the sea itself is mourning the events at Driftmark. You sit in your small cabin, your fingers tracing the edge of a folded letter hidden within the folds of your dress, close to your heart. It’s from Aemond, a hastily written note slipped to you in the chaos after the fight. His words are brief, but they carry the weight of all that was left unsaid between you.

"I did what I had to. I hope you can understand one day. I still care for you."

You read the letter again and again, memorizing the loops and slashes of his handwriting, the way his words seem to tremble with emotion. But each time you read it, the image of Aemond’s face, twisted in pain and anger as he lost his eye, looms larger in your mind. The boy who once held your hand so tenderly now seems like a distant memory, replaced by someone hardened by the cruelty of your shared world.

A knock on the cabin door startles you, and you quickly shove the letter deeper into your dress, your heart racing. When you open the door, you find Jace standing there, his expression a mix of concern and something else you can’t quite place—something heavier, more burdensome.

"Mother wants us," he says simply, his voice strained. There’s no need for more words; you know what this summons means. It’s time to discuss what happened, to face the reality of the fractured alliance between your families.

You follow Jace up to the deck, where your mother, Rhaenyra, and Daemon stand together, their figures silhouetted against the stormy sky. The clouds above Dragonstone are dark, reflecting the mood of the conversation that’s about to unfold. Your brothers are gathered around, their faces drawn and serious.

As you approach, you catch the tail end of a heated exchange between your mother and Daemon.

"Alicent has gone too far this time," Rhaenyra hisses, her voice sharp with anger. "Breaking the engagement without even consulting us—after all the promises made!"

Daemon scoffs, his expression cold and calculating. "She was always going to break it, Rhaenyra. Especially after what happened with Aemond. It’s better this way. That boy is dangerous, and his ambitions will only grow."

Your heart clenches at Daemon’s words. Dangerous? Perhaps, but Aemond is still the boy you grew up with, the one who spoke of your future together with such hope. And yet, as you recall the events at Driftmark, you can’t help but feel a pang of fear. Aemond had changed in that moment, his desperation leading him to claim Vhagar and then fight with your brothers. You know that things can never be the same between your families, but does that mean your bond with Aemond must be severed as well?

Rhaenyra’s gaze shifts to you and Jace, her eyes softening for a moment as she looks at the two of you, standing side by side as you have so many times before. There’s a deep sadness in her eyes, a weariness that seems to have settled into her bones.

"It should have been different," she murmurs, almost to herself. "But now we must think of what’s best for our family. For the realm."

You and Jace exchange a glance, both of you sensing that something significant is about to be said. Rhaenyra’s grip tightens on the railing of the ship, her knuckles white, as she turns fully to face you.

"The bonds between our families have been strained to the breaking point," she begins, her voice steady but filled with sorrow. "Alicent’s actions have shown that she no longer honors the agreements made your grandsire. The betrothal between you and Aemond is no more. It’s been annulled."

Your breath catches in your throat, though you knew this was coming. Hearing the words aloud feels like a blow to the chest. You instinctively touch the hidden letter in your dress, as if seeking some comfort from Aemond’s words. But your mother’s next words leave you reeling.

"To strengthen our house, and to protect our claim, I have decided that you and Jace will marry. It is what should have been from the start. It’s what’s best for all of us."

Jace stiffens beside you, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. You feel the world tilt beneath your feet as you try to process what your mother has just said. Marry Jace? Your twin, your closest confidant? The idea feels foreign and unnatural, even though you’ve always known that your future would be tied to political alliances.

Daemon steps forward, placing a hand on Rhaenyra’s shoulder in a rare gesture of solidarity. "It’s the right move, Rhaenyra. The Hightowers have shown their hand, and we must be ready to counter them. A marriage between the two of them will solidify our position and keep our enemies at bay."

"But—" you begin, your voice trembling. "Jace is my brother. We’ve never... I never thought..."

Rhaenyra’s expression softens as she takes a step closer to you. "I know, my dear. I know this is difficult. But we must think of the greater good. The two of you are the future of our house, and together, you will be stronger. We cannot afford any more divisions, not now."

Jace finally finds his voice, though it’s thick with emotion. "Mother, is this truly necessary? I would do anything for our family, but to marry my sister... it feels... wrong."

Rhaenyra’s eyes flash with determination. "You are not just brother and sister, Jace. You are heirs to the Iron Throne. And in our family, such unions have always been a way to keep the bloodline pure and our claim uncontested. You must trust me in this."

You look at Jace, seeing your own turmoil reflected in his eyes. You have always been close, sharing everything, but marriage? It feels like a betrayal of the bond you shared, something that could change the dynamic between you forever.

Daemon’s voice cuts through the tension, his tone commanding. "This is not just about love or comfort. This is about power, about survival. The Hightowers will stop at nothing to see their line on the throne. We must be prepared to meet them with equal strength."

Rhaenyra nods, her resolve hardening. "Jace, Y/N, you must do this. For the sake of our house, for the legacy of our ancestors. You are the future, and together, you can secure it."

There’s a long silence as the weight of her words settles over you both. You can feel the eyes of your younger brothers on you, their innocent faces not yet fully understanding the gravity of what’s being decided. You feel torn between duty and the remnants of your childhood dreams—the promise of a future with Aemond, now shattered, and the new path being forced upon you.

Finally, Jace speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "If it is what must be done, then I will do it."

His words hang in the air, final and resolute, and you know that there’s no turning back now. Your mother’s expression softens, and she reaches out to touch your cheek gently.

"You are stronger than you know," she says, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "And together, you and Jace will be unstoppable."

You nod, though your heart is heavy, and as the ship finally docks at Dragonstone, you feel the weight of the future pressing down on you. The letter from Aemond still burns against your skin, a reminder of what might have been, but as you step onto the rocky shores of your ancestral home, you know that you must let go of that dream.

The path before you is set, and though it’s not the one you envisioned, you will walk it with your head held high, just as your mother taught you.

The air over Dragonstone is foreboding, filled with the weight of a war that has not yet begun but feels inevitable. The sky is a dull gray, heavy with the promise of rain. You stand on the edge of the cliff, the sea crashing against the rocks far below, the salty spray mingling with the mist. Beside you, Grey Ghost shifts restlessly, the massive dragon sensing your unease. His pale scales shimmer like ghostly silver in the dim light, his deep rumbling breaths a comfort in the otherwise oppressive atmosphere.

Your mother’s words still echo in your mind: "You must go to Storm’s End with your brother. Deliver our message to Lord Borros Baratheon and secure his allegiance. We cannot afford to lose the Stormlands."

You turn to your brother, Luke, who stands a few paces away, his face a mask of determination. He is trying to be brave, trying to embody the strength that your mother has instilled in all of you, but you can see the fear in his eyes. He is still so young, and the thought of him facing whatever awaits at Storm’s End fills you with a dread you cannot shake.

Before you can speak to him, you feel a presence at your side. Jacaerys, your twin, your closest companion in all things, steps close to you. His dragon, Vermax, waits nearby, his golden eyes watching you both with an intelligence that never fails to unsettle you.

"Are you ready?" Jace asks, his voice low and filled with a mix of emotions—concern, affection, and something deeper that has grown between you in these past months.

You look up at him, your heart swelling with love and fear all at once. "As ready as I’ll ever be," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

Jace reaches out, taking your hand in his. The touch is warm, grounding you in the moment. "I don’t want you to go," he admits softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Not to Storm’s End, not anywhere dangerous. But I know you must."

You squeeze his hand, drawing comfort from his presence. "And I don’t want you flying to the Vale or the North, but you must as well. We both have our duties, Jace. We have to do this for our mother, for our family."

His gaze softens as he looks at you, and in that moment, it feels as though the world has shrunk down to just the two of you, standing together on the precipice of something far greater than yourselves. "When this is over, when we’ve secured our mother’s throne," Jace begins, his voice full of conviction, "we will be together, as we’re meant to be. We’ll marry, and nothing will ever separate us again."

You smile at him, though tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I look forward to that day more than anything," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Jace steps closer, his hand moving to cup your cheek. His touch is tender, and when he leans in to press his lips to yours, the kiss is gentle, filled with all the unspoken words and promises that have passed between you. It’s a kiss that speaks of longing, of a future that both of you desperately want but cannot fully grasp yet.

The wind picks up around you, tugging at your hair, but you don’t move away from him. His lips linger on yours, and for a moment, all the fear and uncertainty fades away, leaving only the warmth of his love.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you close your eyes, savoring the closeness. "Come back to me," he whispers, his voice a plea that echoes in your heart.

"I will," you promise, your voice barely more than a breath. "And you come back to me."

He nods, and with one last kiss, he steps away, his hand slipping from yours reluctantly. The loss of his touch feels like a cold void, but you force yourself to remain strong. You have to be, for your family, for your future.

Jace turns to Luke, his expression becoming serious once more. "Take care of her," he says, his tone protective.

Luke nods, his face pale but resolute. "I will, Jace. I promise."

With that, Jace mounts Vermax, the dragon’s scales gleaming like emeralds in the gray light. You watch as they take flight, the powerful wings beating against the wind, carrying them up into the sky. For a moment, your heart feels like it’s being torn in two, but you push the feeling down, focusing on the task ahead.

You turn to Luke, offering him a reassuring smile. "We’ll do this, brother. We’ll make sure our mother’s claim is secure."

He nods, and together, you mount your dragons, the beasts shifting eagerly beneath you. You can feel Grey Ghost’s excitement, his connection with you strong and unwavering. With a final glance at Dragonstone, the place that has been your home and your sanctuary, you urge Grey Ghost into the air.

The wind rushes past you, the world falling away as you soar higher and higher. Below, the sea stretches out endlessly, the waves rolling in constant motion. You and Luke fly side by side, your dragons’ wings cutting through the sky with a powerful grace that fills you with a sense of invincibility.

But as you draw closer to Storm’s End, the storm clouds grow darker, swirling ominously. You can feel the tension in the air, a warning of what’s to come. You steal a glance at Luke, who meets your gaze with a determined nod. Together, you dive towards the fortress, your hearts heavy with the knowledge that this is just the beginning.

But through it all, you hold onto the promise of Jace’s words, of the life you will build together when the war is won. For now, that hope is enough to carry you through the storm.

The storm rages as you and Luke descend from the skies, the wind howling around you, and the rain pelting your faces like cold needles. The once distant silhouette of Storm’s End grows larger and more imposing with each passing second, its dark towers outlined by the flashes of lightning that split the sky. Grey Ghost’s massive wings beat powerfully beneath you, his body shifting with the wind as he angles towards the courtyard. Beside you, Luke struggles to keep Arrax steady, the young dragon’s movements more erratic in the harsh winds.

As you approach the ground, your eyes catch something that sends a jolt of dread through your heart—a massive shape looming in the distance, just beyond the castle walls. Vhagar. The ancient dragon sits like a shadow in the storm, her vast form barely visible in the driving rain. A surge of fear and unease washes over you, your mind flashing back to that terrible night at Driftmark, to the boy you once knew and cared for so deeply, who now rides the beast that haunts your nightmares.

You turn to Luke, his face pale but resolute as he prepares to land. You force yourself to push down the rising panic, knowing you must be strong for him. "Be brave, Luke," you call out over the storm, your voice barely audible above the wind. "We’re here to do our duty. Mother is counting on us."

He nods, his jaw set with determination as he brings Arrax down beside Grey Ghost. The courtyard is a whirl of activity despite the storm—guards and stablehands rushing to secure the dragons, their movements quick and practiced. You dismount swiftly, your boots splashing into the puddles that have formed on the stone ground, the rain soaking through your cloak almost immediately. The cold, damp air clings to your skin, making you shiver as you look around, your heart pounding in your chest.

The guards approach, their expressions stern as they motion for you and Luke to follow them. You fall into step beside your brother, your heart tightening with every step that brings you closer to the castle’s great hall, closer to the man you know is waiting inside. The memory of your last encounter with Aemond, the tension and hostility that had hung in the air during that fateful dinner after your grandsire proclaimed Luke the heir to Driftmark, is fresh in your mind. And the memory of Daemon’s blade severing Vaemond Velaryon’s head—another reminder of how fragile and dangerous your world has become.

Your mind races with the possibilities of what awaits you in the hall. Aemond’s presence here is both expected and dreaded. How will he react to seeing you again? And how will you maintain your composure in front of him, knowing all that has transpired?

The guards lead you through the corridors of Storm’s End, the stone walls echoing with the roar of the storm outside. Every step feels heavier than the last, your heart thudding in your chest as you approach the doors of the great hall. Luke glances at you, his eyes wide with anxiety, and you give him a reassuring nod, though your own nerves are frayed.

The heavy doors swing open with a groan, revealing the low lit interior of the hall. At the far end of the room, Lord Borros Baratheon sits upon his seat, a large and imposing figure, his expression unreadable as he watches your approach. And standing off to the side, his figure partially hidden in shadow, is Aemond.

Your breath catches as your eyes meet his. He is as you remember him, yet there is something colder, more dangerous in his demeanor now. The eyepatch he wears does little to soften the sharpness of his gaze, which is fixed entirely on you. The air between you feels charged, electric, as if the storm outside has found its way into the room.

Luke clears his throat and steps forward, his voice steady as he addresses Lord Borros. "Lord Borros, we come bearing a message from our mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

He extends the scroll, and one of Borros’s attendants takes it, bringing it to the lord. Borros unrolls the parchment, his eyes scanning the contents, but you can feel Aemond’s gaze never leaving you, the intensity of it almost unbearable. You force yourself to stand tall, meeting his stare with all the courage you can muster.

Borros reads the letter in silence, his expression darkening as he takes in the words. When he finally looks up, his eyes shift between you and Luke before settling on Aemond. "So, the whore’s son comes to Storm’s End to call upon the loyalty of House Baratheon," Borros says, his voice a deep rumble. "And what does your mother offer me in return for this allegiance?"

Luke stiffens at the insult, but before he can respond, Aemond steps forward, his focus solely on you. "She offers nothing that we cannot take by force," Aemond says smoothly, his voice low and dangerous. He moves closer, his gaze never wavering from yours. "You should be on your knees, begging for mercy. And you"—he nods to Luke—"owe me an eye."

Luke flinches, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword, but you step forward, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. "Aemond," you say, your voice trembling slightly, though you try to keep it steady. "We are here as envoys, not as enemies."

Aemond’s lips curl into a cold smile. "Are you?" His gaze flickers over you, lingering on the pendant around your neck—the one you’ve worn since childhood, a gift from him when you were both younger and the world was simpler. "You should be by my side, as was always intended. Come with me to King’s Landing. Leave this farce behind. It’s where you belong."

His words cut through you like a blade, stirring up a mixture of emotions—anger, sadness, and a deep, unspoken longing that you’ve tried so hard to bury. You stare at him, struggling to find the right words. "I am where I am meant to be," you reply, your voice firmer now. "My place is with my family."

Aemond’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. "Your place is by my side. It was decided long ago. If not for your mother’s ambitions and your brother’s blade, you would already be my wife."

The tension in the room is shimmering, the storm outside seeming to echo the storm within the hall. Luke looks to you, uncertainty written on his face, but before either of you can respond, Lord Borros rises from his seat, his patience clearly waning.

"Enough of this," Borros barks, his voice commanding attention. "I will not have my hall turned into a battleground for your family’s squabbles." He turns his gaze to you and Luke, his eyes narrowing. "You come here, expecting my loyalty, offering nothing in return but the word of your mother. I am no dog to be called when she whistles."

You feel a sinking feeling in your chest as Borros continues. "Tell your mother that House Baratheon will not be swayed so easily. My daughters are of age, and I will choose the best match for them—one that will bring strength to my house."

Your heart sinks further, knowing that this means Borros will likely side with Aegon, who can offer a marriage alliance. Luke’s face falls, his youthful optimism crushed by the reality of politics and power.

Borros waves a hand dismissively. "You may take your leave. But know this—if you try to force my hand, you will find yourself on the wrong side of Storm’s End’s walls."

You feel a chill run down your spine as you turn to leave, but Aemond’s voice stops you in your tracks. "You’re making a mistake," he says, his voice low and menacing, though it is directed at you rather than Lord Borros. "You cannot escape your destiny."

You meet his gaze one last time, a thousand words left unspoken between you. But you can’t afford to falter now. With a final nod to Luke, you lead him out of the hall, your heart heavy with the weight of what has transpired.

As you step back into the storm, the wind and rain battering against you, you feel Aemond’s gaze still on you, burning into your back. You don’t look back, even as your heart tightens painfully in your chest. You force yourself to focus on Luke, on getting him back to Arrax and out of this place safely.

You reach the courtyard, the storm raging even fiercer than before. Grey Ghost and Arrax wait anxiously, their eyes glowing in the darkness. You help Luke onto Arrax’s back, your hands shaking with the cold and the tension that still thrums through your veins.

As you mount Grey Ghost, you cast one last glance at Storm’s End, feeling Aemond’s presence like a shadow over your heart. Then, with a firm command, you urge Grey Ghost into the sky, Luke following close behind. The wind howls around you as you soar into the storm, the castle disappearing into the mist below.

The storm has swallowed the world in darkness, the sky an unrelenting swirl of black clouds and driving rain. You push Grey Ghost harder, his wings beating against the gale-force winds as you and Luke streak through the stormy sky. Lightning flashes, illuminating the rolling sea far below, the waves crashing violently against one another, echoing the tumult in your heart.

But then, through the roar of the storm, you hear it—a deep, guttural sound that sends a jolt of terror through you. You glance back, your heart leaping into your throat as you see the enormous shadow emerging from the clouds. Vhagar. The ancient dragon cuts through the sky like a nightmare come to life, her massive wings nearly blotting out the sky. And on her back, you can just make out the figure of Aemond, his silver hair whipping in the wind, his single eye locked on you with a frightening intensity.

“Luke!” you cry, urging Grey Ghost to fly faster, but the storm seems to conspire against you, the winds shifting, making it impossible to gain speed. You can see the panic in Luke’s eyes as he glances back, his young face pale against the dark sky. “We have to split up!” you shout, your voice barely carrying over the storm.

He nods reluctantly, his face set with determination. "Be careful," he yells back, veering Arrax to the left, disappearing into the churning clouds.

But Vhagar does not follow him. Instead, the enormous dragon continues to barrel toward you, her focus entirely on Grey Ghost. Your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the gap between you and Aemond closing with terrifying speed. You glance back again, and in that moment, you catch Aemond’s gaze, his face contorted into a fierce determination. His eye is no longer on the hunt; it’s on you.

"Fly, Grey Ghost!" you urge, leaning low over your dragon’s neck, your voice tinged with desperation. But you know it’s futile. Vhagar is too large, too powerful, and even Grey Ghost, swift as he is, cannot outrun the monster that bears down on you.

In a flash of lightning, you see Vhagar’s enormous maw open, and Grey Ghost lets out a furious roar as he attempts to dodge the attack. But it’s too late. Vhagar’s jaws snap shut just behind your dragon, her talons lashing out to catch him. There’s a sudden jolt as Grey Ghost is wrenched out of the sky, and you’re thrown against the saddle, your grip slipping as you fight to hold on.

Vhagar’s claws dig into Grey Ghost’s side, pinning him against the rocky cliffs below. The impact is violent, the ground shuddering beneath you as Vhagar slams Grey Ghost down. You feel the air rush out of your lungs as Grey Ghost lets out a pained roar, his body pinned under Vhagar’s immense weight. The world tilts dangerously as you realize you’re about to be crushed beneath the two dragons.

With a surge of adrenaline, you unbuckle yourself from the saddle and leap off Grey Ghost’s back, hitting the ground hard. You roll to avoid being caught under Vhagar’s claws, the rough stones scraping against your hands and knees. Pain shoots through your limbs, but you force yourself to stand, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you look up at the towering form of Vhagar.

Aemond is already descending from the saddle, his boots hitting the ground with a splash of rain-soaked earth. His face is shadowed by the storm, but the determination in his single eye is unmistakable. His presence feels like a force of nature, as unstoppable as the storm itself.

Before you can even think to run, Aemond is upon you. His hand shoots out, catching your wrist in a grip that is firm yet surprisingly gentle. His touch sends a jolt through you, a confusing mix of fear and something else—something deeper, something you’ve tried to bury.

"You’re coming with me," Aemond declares, his voice low and unyielding. The rain cascades down his face, mingling with the strands of his silver hair, but his eye never wavers from yours. "This is where you belong, with me, in King’s Landing."

You try to wrench your hand free, but his grip tightens. "Let me go, Aemond!" you shout, your voice raw with anger and fear. "You can’t just take me like this!"

He steps closer, his body towering over yours, the heat of his presence cutting through the cold rain. "You were promised to me," he says, his voice a growl, filled with a barely controlled fury. "Before your mother, before my mother, you were promised to me. That was the true path, the one that should have been followed. I’m taking back what was stolen from me."

Your heart races as his words sink in, the sheer intensity of his resolve leaving you breathless. You can see it in his eye—the same desperation you felt that night in Driftmark, the desperation that drove him to claim Vhagar. But this is different; this is personal.

"I am not yours to take!" you shout, your voice cracking under the weight of the emotions roiling inside you. "I’m not some prize to be won!"

Aemond’s grip on your wrist loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that is somehow more terrifying than his earlier anger. "You’re wrong," he says, his breath warm against your ear despite the cold. "You’ve always been mine. From the moment we were children, we belonged to each other. I knew it then, and I know it now."

You shake your head, tears mingling with the rain on your cheeks. "No, Aemond. We were children then. Things are different now."

His expression softens just slightly, and for a brief moment, you see the boy you once knew, the boy who held your hand in the gardens of Driftmark and promised to protect you. "Things don’t have to be different," he says quietly. "We can still be what we were meant to be. I will make you my wife, back at the capital. No matter what Rhaenyra or Alicent say."

Your breath catches in your throat at the intensity of his words. You feel the world closing in around you, the storm raging, the dragons snarling in the background, but all you can focus on is the man before you, the man who is both your past and the future he so desperately wants.

But you know you cannot let him take you, not like this. Not as a pawn in the game your families are playing. "Aemond, please," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. "This isn’t the way."

He looks at you, his eye searching yours, and for a moment, you think you see a flicker of doubt, a hesitation. But then it’s gone, replaced by the fierce resolve that has always defined him. "It’s the only way," he says, his voice final. "You’re coming with me, and together we’ll make our own destiny."

Before you can respond, he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist with a possessive strength. The proximity sends your heart into a wild rhythm, confusion and fear tangling with the old, familiar feelings you’ve tried to deny for so long.

"Aemond—" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"We’ll be together," he says, his voice a vow. "I’ll keep you safe, no matter what. You’ll see, this is the only way."

The crackling fire in the hearth does little to warm the cold stone walls of Winterfell's great hall. The North is a place of enduring chill, where the warmth of the flames fights a losing battle against the ever-present cold. But for Jacaerys Velaryon, standing before the fire, the cold within him is not merely from the Northern air. It’s a cold that has settled deep in his bones, born from a letter that trembles in his hand.

Cregan Stark watches him, his gray eyes sharp and perceptive, though he says nothing. The Lord of Winterfell has seen many men face terrible news, and he knows better than to push too quickly. But even he cannot help but feel a flicker of concern at the way Jacaerys clenches his jaw, the muscles ticking with restrained fury.

Jacaerys reads the letter again, as if hoping the words will change, but they do not. They remain as damning and horrifying as the first time.

"My son, upon your return from the North, you will not find your sister here at Dragonstone. She has been taken, stolen from us by Aemond Targaryen. He has brought her to King’s Landing, and there are whispers that he intends to wed her against her will. I fear for her safety and what this means for our cause. You must return to me as swiftly as you can, for the time to act is upon us."

The parchment crumples slightly under his grip, the tension in his body vibrating with barely controlled rage. He can hardly breathe, the thought of his sister—your sister—in Aemond’s hands making his blood boil. The fire within him threatens to consume him, but Jacaerys knows he must keep his head. He must think, must plan.

But all he can feel is the roaring in his ears, the overwhelming need to fly south and tear Aemond apart with his bare hands.

Cregan steps closer, his boots barely making a sound on the flagstone floor. "Jacaerys," he says, his voice a deep rumble that commands attention but carries no judgment. "What has happened?"

Jacaerys clenches his fists, trying to force the words out without letting the fury consume him. "Aemond," he grits out, his voice low and dangerous. "He took her. He took my sister."

Cregan’s eyes narrow, understanding dawning in their gray depths. "Took her?" he echoes, his voice calm but laced with a growing concern. "Where? When?"

Jacaerys swallows hard, the words sticking in his throat like shards of glass. "After Storm’s End. I knew she was heading there with Luke, but I thought they’d return. I thought—" He stops, his breath hitching as the weight of his failure presses down on him. "I should have been there."

Cregan places a hand on his shoulder, a firm yet comforting gesture. "You couldn’t have known," he says quietly. "None of us could have. But tell me what you know, Jacaerys. We can’t act without understanding the full extent of the situation."

Jacaerys forces himself to breathe, to push through the fog of anger clouding his thoughts. He straightens, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "My mother’s letter," he begins, his voice still rough with emotion, "says that after they left Storm’s End, Aemond pursued them. He chased them on Vhagar and... somehow, he managed to catch up with them. He—" Jacaerys’ voice breaks for a moment, but he grits his teeth and continues. "He took her. He took her to King’s Landing."

Cregan’s expression hardens, his hand tightening slightly on Jacaerys’ shoulder. "And what does he intend to do with her?"

The question is a knife to Jacaerys’ gut, the unspoken implications clear between them. He can hardly bring himself to say it, but he knows he must. "There are whispers," he says slowly, the words heavy with dread, "that he plans to marry her. That he’ll force her to be his wife."

Cregan’s jaw clenches, and he nods, his mind already turning to the potential consequences. "If that is true, it would be a bold move by Aemond," he says, his voice measured. "He must know it would enrage your mother, perhaps even push her to act more recklessly than she might otherwise. But if he succeeds... it could strengthen his claim, and by extension, Aegon’s."

Jacaerys’ heart pounds painfully in his chest, his mind racing with the possibilities. "I have to go after her," he says suddenly, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. "I can’t just sit here while Aemond—while he—" He can’t finish the sentence, the thought too horrifying to voice.

Cregan’s grip on his shoulder tightens, grounding him in the present moment. "And you will," he assures Jacaerys, his voice steady and firm. "But you must not act out of rage alone. We need to think this through. If you fly south now, without a plan, you could be walking into a trap."

Jacaerys shakes his head, his frustration and anger boiling over. "I can’t just sit here!" he snaps, pulling away from Cregan’s grasp. "I won’t let him do this to her! She’s my sister—she’s everything to me! And Aemond—he can’t—he won’t get away with this!"

Cregan watches him with a calm, steady gaze, letting Jacaerys vent his anger. When the younger man finally stops, breathing heavily, Cregan speaks again, his tone measured. "I understand your fury, Jacaerys. I would feel the same if it were my kin. But I also know that anger alone will not save her. We must be smart about this."

Jacaerys turns back to Cregan, the fire in his eyes now mixed with desperation. "Then tell me what to do," he demands, his voice shaking. "Tell me how to save her."

Cregan’s face is grave, his mind clearly weighing the options. "First, we must send word to your mother," he says. "She needs to know that you’ve received her message and that we’re preparing to act. Second, we must consider how to approach King’s Landing. Charging in with dragons might provoke a response that puts your sister in greater danger."

Jacaerys opens his mouth to argue, but Cregan holds up a hand, silencing him. "But we cannot wait too long," Cregan continues. "Aemond’s intentions might not be clear yet, but the longer she remains in King’s Landing, the harder it will be to bring her back safely."

Jacaerys feels the weight of those words, the cold reality of the situation settling over him like a shroud. Every moment that passes could bring more harm to you, the sister he loves more than anything in the world. He looks down at the letter in his hand, his vision blurring with unshed tears.

"I can’t lose her, Cregan," he whispers, his voice cracking. "She’s... she’s everything to me."

Cregan’s expression softens, and he places a hand on Jacaerys’ arm. "You won’t lose her," he says with quiet conviction. "We’ll get her back. But you need to keep your wits about you, Jacaerys. For her sake."

Jacaerys nods slowly, trying to push down the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume him. He has to be strong, has to think clearly if he’s going to save you. But it’s hard, so hard, when all he wants to do is fly south and tear Aemond apart for daring to take you.

Cregan steps back, his expression becoming more focused, more tactical. "We’ll start by preparing our forces," he says, already moving towards the door. "And we’ll send ravens to your mother, letting her know what we plan to do. We’ll need to coordinate our efforts if we’re going to succeed."

Jacaerys follows him, the anger still simmering in his chest, but now tempered by the need for action. "And then?" he asks, his voice rough.

Cregan pauses at the doorway, turning back to Jacaerys with a look of steely determination. "And then we’ll go to King’s Landing," he says. "And we’ll bring her home."

The words are a promise, one that Jacaerys clings to as he prepares to face the storm that lies ahead. No matter what it takes, no matter the cost, he will save you. And Aemond will pay for what he’s done.

But even as he steels himself for the battle to come, the fear lingers in his heart—the fear that he might be too late, that Aemond might already have taken something from you that can never be returned. It’s a thought that fuels the fire within him, the need to protect you from the man who has already taken so much.

As he follows Cregan out into the cold, Jacaerys vows that he will not rest until you are safe again, until you are back where you belong—with him, by his side, where no one can ever take you away again.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

The Most Beautiful Flower

Jotun!King!Loki x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: Some side effects of the pregnancy with the twins unlocked several body insecurities, causing your husband to think of a plan to cheer you up and convince you of your beauty.

Warnings: body insecurities, pregnancy stuff, suggestive smut, tooth rotting fluff, Loki being an absolute sweetheart and most loving, caring, supporting hubby ever, protective Loki, nudity

Word Count: 3,6k

a/n: This oneshot is based on a request @eleniblue had. 😊 Thank you for this, my friend! I hope you're going to like it! 😊

Ps. Chapter Two of 'Through the Years' will be posted on Thursday! 😁

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds (Continuing in the comments!)

Ice Flower Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

You stood in front of the wide full-length mirror of yours and Loki's bedroom; looking at yourself. You had just taken a bath with the help of two maidens, but preferred to get fully dressed alone.

Yes... Being now nine months pregnant with Jotun twins was everything but easy. Your feet often hurt and were swollen. Your back ached from all the weight it had to carry. You also were so much more sensitive now. Especially to touch, of course - which could be great, but also annoying.

The worst of all, though, was that you were freezing even more! You didn't know that it was possible, but... Oh, it was. Only logical with two Frost Giant babies growing within you... There were nights when even Loki's body warmth wasn't enough to keep you from freezing. Several furs and blankets were needed, until you were practically wrapped up in a cocoon. And that was only the 'beginning'... The healers told you that it was quite possible for more 'side effects' to occur - and you still had about four months to go...

You looked with critical eyes over your body; seeing several stretch marks, water retention in your legs, swollen feet and even some small freezer burn marks - especially on your belly. Not to mention that you gained a lot of weight throughout this pregnancy.

You sighed; body insecurities kicking in. This is far from beautiful, you thought. This isn't how a queen should look like... You ran your hands down the bare skin of your lower back and over your big bump, which were your twins. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes; your mind planting even more dark thoughts within your brain. What if Loki won't find me attractive anymore? What if he thinks I'm ugly? The maelstrom of negativity pulled you deeper and deeper with no chances of escape. What if he won't bed me any-

Your train of thoughts got harshly interrupted by a pair of pleasantly warm hands, which landed on your hips and glided forwards to cup your growing bump. You gasped. Touch sensitivity.

"What's that frown on your face about, my love?" The deep, velvety timbre of your husband's voice urged to your ears. Combined with the kiss he bestowed upon your bare shoulder, caused goosebumps to form on your entire body.

You were about to answer, as one of your twins gave a nudge against Loki's palm, making the king chuckle. "Someone is enjoying the touch of their father," he stated; letting his one hand roam to feel for more movement of his offspring. "Seems like they are well and healthy. What did the healers say this morning, Flower?" You nodded and placed your hands on Loki's way bigger ones; enjoying the touch nevertheless. "They are, my love. Healthy and growing as they should." Loki inhaled the scent of your freshly washed hair and cleaned skin, before lowering his head to kiss your shoulder once again. "That is good to hear. I never had doubts, though. Not with such a strong, powerful woman being their mother." Your heart skipped of course a beat at his words - but the darkness lurked within your head still.

Loki lifted his lips from your skin with a soft pop, before he looked up to meet your eyes in the mirror. "Now, my queen... Tell me... What is that frown doing on the beautiful face of yours?"

You swallowed hard; tried desperately to suppress the upcoming tears. "Nothing, my king. I was just thinking." "Thinking? About what?" Your husband asked; pressing his tall frame against yours. You shook your head. You didn't want him to see how weak and vulnerable you were in this moment. You didn't want his pity. You should be strong... Be his warrior goddess. But you weren't.

"Nothing important, Loki," you lied and turned around in his embrace to give him a fake smile.

Your husband looked intensely at you for a moment; frowning. He sensed that something was off. He knew. He wasn't blind, neither stupid. But he also didn't want to pressure you into talking to him - so he played it off.

"Alright, my love."

Over the next days, the Jotun king made sure to always have an eye on you. Sure, he was already watching you like a hawk; barely leaving you alone. After all, you were carrying his children. His primal instinct left him no other choice than to look after his pregnant wife. And honestly? He wouldn't want it any other way. He must protect what was his.

Now, though, he watched you even closer; trying to figure out what exactly was bothering you - and he soon got his answer...

Some days, you were awake before him. Nothing unusual, but now that you were pregnant, it happened more often. Just like that day.

You were standing in front of the mirror - once more looking at your unattractive self. Usually, you did that when Loki was away and couldn't notice, but this time... You thought he was asleep, but unbeknownst to you, he wasn't...

Loki shifted inside the bed; arm reaching out to feel for you, but your side of the bed was cold and empty. She's already awake and up, the king thought. He was about to settle down again and continue to sleep, when he suddenly heard a heartbreaking sigh. Frowning, he turned on his back and blinked his eyes open. His bare abs clenched as he sat up; ruby eyes searching for the origin of said sigh. Then he saw you. Standing in front of the mirror; only dressed in undergarments. Your gaze was focused on a deep stretch mark on the side of your left hip. The moment Loki saw a tear running down the side of your face, he knew. It fell like scales from his eyes. It all made sense now. Your strange behaviour. Why you avoided his touch more often and hid your body from him; avoiding him seeing you naked.

The changes your body went through during pregnancy was bothering you. You were insecure.

His heart ached upon watching this; knowing exactly what you must be thinking. He wanted to jump up from the bed, run over to you and scream at you how utterly beautiful you were to him, but he knew he couldn't. You were clearly trying to hide this from him. If he would confront you now, you'd feel caught and probably even embarrassed. So, heavy-heartedly, Loki quietly laid back down; pretending to be asleep. But his mind was working; searching for a way to make those dreadful insecurities go away - and it didn't take him long to figure out a plan...

"My king, where are you taking me? I know you said it is a surprise - and I really don't wish to ruin this, but... My feet are hurting. I'm afraid I won't be able to walk much longer..." Your hand was entwined with Loki's, as he led you - carefully and slowly, blindfolded to somewhere only he knew.

He said he wanted to take you out a bit, but make it a surprise and not tell you where. Just the two of you. No guards. No interruptions. You agreed, of course; trusting him with your life.

"I know, my darling Flower. Apologies. We'll arrive soon," he said; squeezing your hand in a reassuring manner. Sure, you had a carriage for about half the way, but the rest had to be reached on foot. "Is everything else alright? Beside the aching feet?" Loki stopped for a moment, to check on your well-being. You nodded; smiling softly. "We're good, love." "Good." Loki pressed his lips against your forehead; kissing you softly.

"Let us walk on. We have almost reached our destination."

You couldn't deny, that you were quite curious about Loki's plans - and you really thought about it a lot. But you hadn't anticipated what was awaiting you, once the king announced that you had arrived...

"Are you ready, Y/N?" You nodded excitedly; free hand roaming your baby bump. "Yes!" "Alright." You felt how Loki let go of your hand and took a step closer to you; the ground rustling beneath his feet. "Brace yourself, Flower." He was audibly smiling, while he gently untied the blindfold on the back of your head. Once he did that, he stepped aside. "Open your eyes, my queen." You did, of course, causing a gasp immediately to leave your lips.

You were in the forest. But not on Jotunheim... This was Asgard. A big picnic blanket was spread out on the ground, with a lot of things to eat splayed out on top of it. Asgardian food. Your gaze travelled further. Behind the blanket, there was- "No way, Loki..." Your eyes widened. "You... You took me to-" Loki appeared in your field of view; smiling. "To our lake, yes." You felt how your eyes started to water immediately.

The little lake in the forests beside the Asgardian training camp. The lake where you and the king met; spend a lot of time in and falling helplessly in love with each other in the end. This small lake was a big and important part of yours and Loki's life. And now he had taken you there. It had been quite a few years since you lastly saw the lake. Too much was going on in both yours and Loki's life. Until now...

"Oh, my love this... This is amazing." You cried - happy tears. "It's so great to be here again. So many memories are connected to this place..." Loki nodded; wrapping you up in the tightest hug possible. "Indeed. I love being back here as well." "How do I deserve this? For you to take me here?" The king just shrugged his shoulders with a smile. "Does a man in love needs a reason to take out the woman he loves?"

Of course, Loki had his reason - but he didn't want to confront you with it just now.

"I-I suppose not," you answered; softly blushing at his charming words. "See? Now let's dig into the food, shall we? I'm starving."

After the delicious food the royal Asgardian kitchen of the palace had prepared for you was eaten, Loki had thought of a way to approach the body insecurities you had developed.

"Darling," Loki started; getting your attention. "It's a beautiful warm day today... Would you like to go for a swim?" The king noticed how your demeanour shifted immediately. You felt visibly uncomfortable; eyes widening. "A-A swim?" "Yes," Loki said with a smile; already starting to get rid of his armour and loincloth. Your eyes widened even more - if that was possible as you watched him getting naked. "Skinny dipping?" You squeaked up; almost shocked. "Sure, my love. It is how we met, isn't it?" He smiled smugly; giving you a smouldering look. "So... Are you joining me?" Your husband was about to get rid of the loincloth, covering his most private parts, when you stopped him. "L-Loki, stop, please, I-" He halted immediately in his movements; beautiful ruby eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones.

"What is it, Flower?" "I-I-" You stammered out; not knowing what to say. "Nothing, I just..." Loki's eyebrows slanted; a soft expression taking over his face. "My queen... I know there's something wrong. I already knew it for days - weeks, even... I noticed. I'm not blind, darling. I just didn't pressure you into talking to me; hoping you'd probably come to me on your own, but..." He reached for your hand; gently taking it in his bigger one. "Please... Don't shut me out. Talk to me."

You sighed; bottom lip trembling dangerously. That was exactly what you wanted to prevent from happening - but well, you weren't able to. He had seen it. Now it was already too late anyway. Hiding was impossible.

"Please..." Loki whispered and lifted your chin gently with his thumb and forefinger. The touch causing a gasp to leave your lips; feeling the touch sensitivity once more.

"I-I'm afraid that... That you don't find me attractive anymore." With those words leaving your lips, Loki had been proven right. This was about your body insecurities.

"What? But why, my love? Why would I ever find you unattractive?" You blinked; trying again to suppress the tears. "Be-Because I've gained weight since I'm pregnant... I'm far from the beautiful and strong woman you married. I have stretch marks. I have swollen feet. There a water retention in my legs and even freezer-" Loki couldn't listen to this any longer. How you talked so ill of yourself. So, he intervened.

"Y/N, no. Let me me stop you right here," your husband said in a serious voice; his heart aching and bleeding. "Please don't talk like that about yourself. Please." "But-" He shook his head, interrupting you straight again. "No, my queen, you are listening to me now." Loki took both your hands in his now; making you look at him. "Your body is changing, yes - but... Flower... You are pregnant. It's normal for your body to change. It's natural." He stated softly; squeezing your hands. "And by the holy roots of Yggdrasil, please... Please don't think that I find you less attractive because of that. Norns, no! Quite the opposite... I find myself being more attracted towards you than ever before."

You blinked; unable to process his words. Could this be true? "W-What? You... What? H-How? I-I mean..."

"How?" Loki couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Darling, you are practically glowing! Your skin is so soft and sensitive. Every touch feels like an igniting spark. I love that you gained weight, because..." He started; hungry eyes wandering over your whole body. "Everything got bigger - and I mean that in the sexiest way possible." He winked - and you blushed. "Your bum got bigger - don't think I haven't noticed that, because I have." Another wink. "Your baby bump, of course. My two favourite ladies..." His eyes settled on your chest for a moment. "And those thighs... Look at them." Loki ran his palms up the sides of your legs, up to your hips. "Delicious. How could I not want you?"

You just stared at him, at a loss of words; listening to everything he said.

The king's ruby eyes were trained on your swollen stomach once more, "I don't care about stretch marks or freezer burn marks or water retention." hands following suit. "All I care about is yours and our children's well-being. Your body is performing a miracle, darling. You are growing our twins. Carrying and nurturing them. This is more than I could've ever asked for."

You weren't able to hold back your tears any longer. His words touched you deeply; were like balm for your wounded soul. "R-Really?" You stammered out; eyes searching his. Loki smiled; was towering above you by now. "Really. Every word I just spoke is true. You are truly the most beautiful woman in all the nine realms. My beautiful, unique, special flower."

You softly smiled at him through the tears; still a bit insecure, but not as much as you were before. Cupping your husband's cheeks, you pulled him down for a kiss - which he gladly returned; and you didn't let go of him. You kept your lips locked to his; needing all his love and attention. You literally took the king's breath away and at some point he desperately needed to breathe, so he let one hand wander to your side; fingertips gently starting to tickle you.

Due to the pregnancy you were more ticklish than before. Therefore caused your husband's small tickling attack your immediate retreat from his sinful lips to let out a hearty giggle.

"Loki, s-stop, I-" He just smirked; mischief sparkling in his ruby eyes. He started to tickle you even more, using his other hand too - until you were not just giggling, but laughing. "Lokiiii! P-Please, I-" "Only if you promise to not hide your beauty from me anymore and take a swim with me." "O-Ho-Hokay, I- I promise!" Loki stopped then; turning his tickling into caressing. "There you go, my love." He smiled lovingly down at you and bestowed another kiss upon your lips. "Now come." The king got rid of the last item of clothing which prevented him from being nude, then walked straight into the lake - giving you a delicious view of his glorious, peachy butt, firm, strong thighs and muscular back. You swallowed hard; trying desperately to not get impure thoughts right now.

He dipped underneath the water; getting his whole body wet, before he re-emerged; shaking the water out of his luscious raven curls. You bit your lip at the sight; thighs clenching together instantly. "Are you going to join me now, my queen? I promise, here is nobody but us. We are alone." You nodded; taking a deep breath and started to undress. Loki watched your every move; his eyes not leaving your body once again. You couldn't help but to blush under his stunning, deep ruby eyes.

Slowly, you moved to get up from the picnic blanket - which was a tricky task by now. "Shall I help you, Flower?" Loki asked; was ready to jump to your side immediately. "No, no, it's okay. I got it, my love." You reassured him and in the end made it to stand up.

Loki was watching you as you took careful steps towards the shore of the lake; a smile upon his lips. Being the gentleman he was, he helped you inside the water, of course.

"You look like a goddess, my love. Truly beautiful." "T-Thank you." You took his hand; letting him guide you into the lake. Loki's other hand was immediately on your hip to support you; helping you swim over to the familiar stones, on which you could lean onto. You placed your arms on the edge; supporting yourself. Loki swam up behind you; embracing you and resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"This is wonderful, Loki. Thank you for taking me here. I didn't realise how much I missed this place - until now." You felt him nodding. "Me too, Y/N. It's great to relive old memories here." "Mhm... Definitely. When I think back to when we met..." You started; giggling. "You were such a handsome, arrogant asshole - it drove me crazy how perfect, yet annoying you were." The king chuckled. "Well, I guess you are right. I was. I just didn't know how to get along with those sudden, strange feelings I harboured for you." "Understandable." Another chuckle. "I never thought I'd get you back after all that happened, but... Look at us now... We are married, the king and queen of Jotunheim and expecting offspring." "Crazy, isn't it?" Loki pulled you a little closer; planting several kisses on the wet skin of your neck. "Mhhh... Crazy but real."

Pleasant silence spread between the two of you. You were both just enjoying the warmth of the sun, the soft breeze rustling the trees and the sound of the nature around you; bathing in each other's proximity - until Loki broke the silence again...

He inhaled a deep breath; burying his nose in your hair. "You know what I'd love to do now, Flower?" You shook your head; completely unaware of the not so innocent thoughts ghosting through your husband's mind. "No, my king. Enlighten me, please?" Loki smirked - unbeknownst to you and lowered his head, only to press his soft lips against the shell of your ear. "I'd love to ravish you right here on that very stone, like I almost did on that very day a few years ago. Finish what I- we started. Can you remember, darling?" He whispered, causing a shiver to run down your spine; eyes widening.

Oh and how you remembered that day! After all, he had almost taken your innocence...

"O-Of course I remember." Your husband chuckled darkly, "Would you like that, my precious Flower? Making love for real this time? Without being afraid of getting caught while doing such a forbidden thing?" and pressed his hips up against your bottom; eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You felt how your brain fogged up; arousal flooding your veins. You turned around in his embrace; Y/E/C eyes literally dripping with want. "I-I would love to, m-my king."

You were about to dip your hand past the water surface and reach for the throbbing desire between his legs, when he suddenly reached for your hand; stopping you. You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was undeniable arousal in his rubies as well, but love and care overweight the lust - as if he had realised something. A switch in his head turned.

He shook his head; averting his eyes. "Apologies, my love, but I think we rather shouldn't do that."

You frowned at his words; your built up self-confidence almost crashing down again. Wasn't he the one who insisted this? Wasn't he the one who-

"I don't want to hurt you, you know - or Norns forbid, our children. You are nine months pregnant, Y/N. Making love on a stone beside a lake isn't perhaps the best option. Especially not for your back. You need to be comfortable - and a stone is the exact opposite."

You blinked. Oh...

Blushing, you nodded. "Perhaps, yes, my king." Loki smiled; pressing a sweet kiss on your lips. "Let's get you back home in our chambers and I promise you that I am going to show you tonight how attractive I think you are, sweet Flower. My queen needs to be thoroughly worshipped, like she deserves - and I hate that I wasn't able to do this in a long time, but tonight, I'm going to make up for it, darling, I swear by the holy roots of Yggdrasil."

[lilislegacy]

I feel like so many people understate how important Annabeth and Percy’s relationship to each other is. People tend to view it as just a romantic relationship but it’s not. Their each other’s best friend, life partners, war partners, family, and very literal soul mates. People rarely find a significant other with two of those aspects let alone all of them.

thanks for the ask @darkmist111!

i agree completely. that’s why i loved that line in HoH when annabeth said that ‘boyfriend’ wasn’t a good enough word for percy because he’s so much more than that to her. as she said herself, he’s part of her. and she’s part of him. they aren’t just boyfriend and girlfriend. although they do love each other romantically/sexually and have a ton of chemistry and attraction towards each other, they also are best friends in the whole world. percy says many times in pjo that annabeth is his best friend, even when they’re fighting. they have the best time together. they want to do everything together. they are besties. their friendship is incredibly strong.

i also feel like people underestimate what it means to be battle partners. they trust each other in life or death situations. they know each other’s moves. they know what the other can take. they’ve experienced so much fear and pain and stress together. they’ve carried the weight of the world on their shoulders together. multiple times. literally and figuratively. being battle partners means that they have a level of trust and admiration that can only come from that kind of partnership.

i love this line in BotL

she doesn’t even hesitate to ask him first to come with her, and he doesn’t even hesitate to say yes. but it’s also like that in every book. if they are going on an adventure, they are going together

the thing about percy and annabeth is that they aren’t just meant to be together. i mean they are, and if soulmates are real in rick’s world, then they are 100% soulmates. but it’s not just fate. its choice. they choose each other. every day. to be their best friend. to be their lover. to be their battle partner. to be their confidant. with the life they got handed, they don’t get a lot of choices. they don’t get to choose what their life looks like. or their future. the minute their godly parents gave them life, they lost the the ability to choose a lot of things for themselves. but percy and annabeth choose each other. every dam time. and that’s what i love about them

anyway sorry for rambling, but i completely agree. they are each other’s everything. words can’t explain how much they mean to each other

[wileys-russo]

alessia day II a.russo x reader

tooth rottingly soft self care days with star girl

alessia day II a.russo x reader

4.3K words

licking some jam off the tip of your thumb you looked down to the table loaded with food in front of you and nodded with a satisfied smile, happy with your work for the morning and even happier that alessia hadn't woken up any earlier than you'd hoped.

washing your hands and kicking the dishwasher closed with your foot you downed the last mouthful of your coffee, abandoning the mug in the sink and making your way upstairs. hand on the doorknob of your shared bedroom you pushed it slowly open, wincing as the door itself squeaked loudly but thankfully it didn't appear to phase the soundly sleeping striker on the other side of the room.

padding over to the bed you squatted down lovingly moving a few strands of loose blonde hair away from the girls face, gently murmuring good morning and pressing a lingering kiss to her warm forehead. never having been a morning person your girlfriend stirred but promptly rolled away from you over to the other side of the bed with a grunt.

your smile widened and you let out a small chuckle having already anticipated that the girl would be quite hard to get out of bed this morning, all the stress from rumors of her potential transfer from united meant she'd spent the last couple of weeks getting very minimal sleep. 

alessia had instead spent hours and hours doom scrolling through what social media was saying about it all, only falling into a deeper spiral of anxiety and discomfort much as you tried to beg and plead with her to stop listening to the outside world.

the last couple of days had been particularly brutal. 

ella was asking alessia a lot of questions she didn't have answers to which was frustrating her best friend to no end, the girl having been very vocal about supporting alessia no matter what but wanting to know what her plan actually was. 

but without a confirmed plan forward alessia just felt the pressure increase at ellas questions, fear of the unknown only adding to the heavy load she was already carrying on her shoulders. 

but today it was your sole purpose to take some of that weight away for her, and give her at least one day of feeling as though she wasn't weighed down by the expectations of others, every move constantly watched and over analysed by millions of strangers.

"good morning gorgeous." you hummed softly, climbing onto the bed beside her. "it's time to get up." you whispered poking gently at the blonde who whined tiredly and flopped onto her back, covering her face with her arms.

"come on less, time to wake up baby." you moved to carefully straddle her, torso tucked securely under the duvet as your own body rested atop the covers, legs settling either side of her blanket covered hips. "no it's not." alessia grumbled with a huff, tensing her biceps as you attempted to remove her arms from her face.

"yes it is, now stop covering that gorgeous face." you eventually won, intertwining your fingers with hers and pinning her hands against the pillow, bright blue eyes slowly fluttering open below you. "well hi there." you smiled like a lovesick puppy, letting go of her and moving your hands either side of her face, sweetly pecking at her lips a few times.

"m'tired." alessia slurred still half asleep, blinking a few times and  stretching out underneath you with a quiet groan, hands coming to rest on your bare thighs as slender fingers traced absent minded shapes along your skin. 

"i know you are my love which is why coffee and breakfast are ready and waiting downstairs." you laid down on her a little more, peppering her face with kisses causing the strikers lips to curl up into a smile, cheeks flushed rosy pink and eyes still a little puffy from her half asleep state your heart soared, you couldn't have been any more infatuated with her if you tried.

"today is alessia day so you have to get up because i've got plans for us." you announced happily, alessia tilting her head at your words. "but its not my birthday?" she frowned a little in confusion, arms sneaking up the back of your jumper and short nails scratching gently at your back like she knew you loved as you swooned at the gentle tired rasp of her voice in the morning.

"no its not, but i know you've been under a tremendous amount of pressure lately and i want you to have one day where you don't have to think about any of it, so todays all about you." you promised her sincerely, smoothing out the stress lines on her forehead where she was frowning and stealing a kiss.

"oh baby." you melted as the blonde sniffled, a few stray tears rolling from her ocean blue eyes which you tenderly wiped away with your sleeve. "why are you crying?" you asked softly, raking your hands through her hair as the striker wordlessly shook her head. 

"i don't deserve you." she eventually managed to choke out, tanned arms moving to wrap around your smaller frame the girl sat up quickly and engulfed you into a tight hug, catching you a little off guard the blonde held onto you as if you could fly away at any sudden moment.

"don't be silly less you deserve nothing but the best and if i can even give you half of that i'm happy." you mumbled into her hair, your own arms snaking around her neck as the two of you sat there for a few peaceful moments, just wrapped up in one another's tender and loving embrace. 

"i wasn't kidding though there is breakfast waiting downstairs." you pulled away with a smile, alessia tugging you down into a proper kiss and mumbling a thank you against your lips. 

~

"may i please have my phone back just for a second to text tooney?" alessia asked hopefully, you having taken her phone for the day knowing that you wouldn't have a chance at getting your girlfriend to unwind and relax if she had access to her social medias.

"i already told tooney you'd be off the grid today and i love you so very much but i know you won't be able to resist the temptation to not go for a little look around about the contract drama on social media. so no, you may not." your words may have seemed harsh but you made sure your tone conveyed that they came from nothing but a place of care, alessia nodding along in understanding

"so what's next for alessia day then princess?" the striker smiled pulling herself up to sit on the counter next to you as you finished rinsing the dishes used for breakfast, having banned your girlfriend from helping as much as she'd fought you on it.

"face masks, do each others nails, pitch perfect one to three with your favourite snacks, massage, wash your hair for you, make pasta for dinner." you dried your hands and ticked off your remaining plans using your fingers, moving to stand in between the older girls legs. 

"have i told you how much i love you?" alessia beamed at your words, doing her very best to focus all of her love, attention and energy into being alone with you in the little safe haven you'd both created behind the walls of your shared flat.

"mmm not in the last five minutes no?" you smiled softly, pressing your body against hers as the taller girl crossed her legs tightly around you. "sorry bella were you waiting for something?" alessia teased as you looked to her expectantly awaiting those famous three words, your heart skipping a beat as it always did anytime she spoke to you in italian. which the blonde was completely aware of and had no issues using to her advantage any time she so pleased.

"suddenly alessia day is cancelled." you rolled your eyes and attempted to walk away as the girl was quick to slide off the counter, tugging your back into her front and nestling her face into your neck. 

"ti amo tantissimo, mia bella ragazza." alessia rasped quietly in your ear and smiled against your skin before repeatedly kissing your cheek, watching in delight as they blushed at her words. 

"my pretty pretty girl." she continued, spinning you around in her arms and ducking so her mouth met yours and you wrapped your arms around her neck, tugging gently on her hair as she balled your jumper in her fists, pulling you impossibly close and deepening the kiss with a satisfied hum.

eventually needing to come up for air the two of you pulled away, exchanging a few sweet pecks before you grabbed her hand, tugging her out of the kitchen and whisking her away to continue with your plans.

~

"like this?" you asked holding up a freshly folded piece of ravioli, alessias smile softening at the way your face was scrunched up in concentration, the tip of your tongue just poking out of the corner of your mouth. "yeah, that looks good." alessia complimented, you adding your one piece to her basically completed pile, humming with satisfaction at your efforts.

"now please sit down. you've been so sweet and thoughtful today let me at least cook you dinner amore mio." alessia placed a tender kiss to your lips before playfully shooing you away as you pulled yourself up to sit on the counter, not wanting to be far from her.

she began to speak to you and at first you were following along and contributing to the conversation but as she began to roll out the next batch of pasta you found yourself minimized to only half listened hums in response.

fixated on the way her biceps flexed and tensed as she kneaded at the dough, eyes falling to the veins lining her ring clad hands as they poked and stretched at the pasta, alessia expertly rolling and manipulating it as she needed.

quickly noting your lackluster responses your girlfriend glanced up to find your gaze trained to her forearms, an amused smile settling on her lips as she purposefully rolled up the sleeves of her top and pressed a little harder than normal, flexing her arms and watching with a smug smile as you let out a small content sigh.

rolling out the last of the dough, having already filled and molded most of it into perfect little raviolis the older girl grew bored of your wordless responses. so with a mischievous glint in her eyes the italian grabbed a handful of flour and before you even had a moment to think you were surrounded by a tornado of white, choking on the flecks that made their way into your mouth and frantically rubbing at your eyes.

your girlfriend almost fell to the floor in laughter as you coughed a few times and attempted to shake the loose flour off the top of your head. "alessia!" you managed to choke out in shock, jumping down from the counter and grabbing your own handful of flour, quick to smack it into her head as she was too busy laughing at your misfortune to defend herself.

from that moment on your kitchen became a war zone, the two of you chasing one another around taking turns to douse the other, melodious laughter's echoing around the empty flat as your footsteps pounded against the floor.

"okay truce! we still have to clean this up." alessia glanced around at the ever growing mess as you paused, hand full of flour raised and ready to strike as the taller girl held her hands up in surrender, letting out a small sigh of relief as you emptied your hand onto the counter rather than into her once freshly washed hair.

what she failed to notice was you quickly slip an egg she'd not needed into the pocket of your her nike shorts, attaching yourself to her and bringing the blonde into a sweet kiss, her defenses instantly lowering and leaving her right where you wanted her, blissfully unaware of what you had planned.

"i think you mean you still need to clean this up because you started it!" you pulled away with a shake of your head, feeling the strikers hands slowly slide downwards, eventually settling themselves on your bum. "isn't the rule 'one cooks, one cleans'?" the blonde asked with a cheeky smile, squeezing at your bum and stealing a kiss before you could tell her off.

"is it?" you asked with a put on confused frown, hand slipping into your pocket and tightly gripping the egg, arm darting out to smash it over your girlfriends head as she was mid sentence. the girl let out a squeal at the unexpected attack, large hands grabbing for you as you tried to make a hasty getaway, almost slipping in the egg now joining the flour all over your once spotless floor the striker was quick to catch you, pulling you easily back to your feet.

though she should have known better given her own clumsy nature as no sooner had she steadied you did she slip herself, hands still settled protectively on your waist she unintentionally pulled you down with her.

the two of you shared a look before bursting out into laughter, rolling around on the floor and clutching at your stomachs, gradually crawling toward one another as alessias hand grabbed at the collar of your jumper, tugging you into a searing kiss as she carefully maneuvered herself to hover over you.

caught up in the blissful sensation of her mouth on yours you paid her no mind as she was quick to pin your hands to the cold tiled floor under her knees, settling herself on top of you before pulling away. it wasn't until you looked up and saw the knowing smirk on the blondes face did you realise what her intent was, the taller girl easily stretching up and grabbing what she was after from the counter.

"don't you dare." you warned seriously, squirming underneath her attempting to free yourself but it was to no use as your girlfriend was easily the stronger of the two of you. "you seemed to think it was pretty amusing, no?" alessias smirk widened as she twirled the egg around between her fingers.

"less please come on, you started it!" you whined in protest, trying to crane your neck away from her as her free hand reached out to grab your jaw, firmly holding your head in place as your stomach flipped at the action. 

ignoring your pleas the striker gently tapped the egg on the floor before cracking it open on your forehead, watching with a grin as your glare up at her deepened and the yolk dripped down your face. 

"so we have flour, egg...what's missing?" alessia pretended to think, mockingly stroking at her chin as you spat up all sorts of colorful language and threats in her direction as she grabbed the half full cup of water from the counter and you bucked your hips up trying to throw her off of you.

pushing her body down she was quick to once again have you at her mercy, the striker teasingly tipping the cup toward you but stopping right before the water tipped over the edge. "russo if you want to enter tomorrow a single woman i dare you to tip that cup." you spoke scarily calm, stormy eyes locked with hers in a silent promise.

"you're the cutest little ravioli i ever did see." alessia smirked, putting the cup down and dipping her head, breath warm against your lips as you shook your head, eyes still slit into a glare. "get off me." you demanded firmly, the striker lifting her hips to sit back on her knees  and allowing you to wriggle your body out from underneath hers.

"clean this up and cook that, i'm going for a shower." you ordered as you carefully stood to your feet, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out to the side as the blondes smile only widened, sitting up on her knees and grabbing at you, hugging your lower half as her head rested on your stomach.

"has anyone ever told you that you're extra fit when you're mad?" the girls hands began to wander, fingers tugging gently at the waistband of your shorts. "just some annoying blonde one night stand i can't seem to get rid of." you quipped back, hands finding hers and moving them away.

"well she sounds like a nightmare." alessia tutted with a shake of her head, hands instead sliding up the bottom of your shorts, tracing lines on your inner thighs. "the worst. just so clingy and needy, some people can't take a hint i guess." you shrugged, beginnings of a smile ghosting at your lips as you ran your hands fondly through her flour filled hair.

"want me to get rid of her for you? sounds like she could be dangerous." the blonde offered, your breath hitching slightly as her hands moved even higher. 

"oh yeah she's a stage five clinger, some would say even borderline a stalker! lets herself into my home and walks around with no pants on, eats all my food, hogs the duvet, whinges when i'm on her side of the bed but has a cry when i don't cuddle her enough, forces me to go to all of her stupid football matches then forces me into these disgustingly sweaty hugs when she wins, god she is terribly clumsy and-" having enough of your teasing alessia tugged on your matching top and short sending you falling into her awaiting grip, laying down on the floor with you now on top of her, your mouths moving together in perfect sync.

"sounds like you should break up with her." alessia mumbled into the kiss with an amused smile. "i've tried six times she just keeps coming back, i think she's in denial." you muttered as you moved your lips to focus on her neck, knowing exactly where the girl needed you.

"best alessia day ever." the blonde almost moaned as you softly bit down on her pressure point, hands firmly gripping at your back holding you on top of her. "you know i think i've decided its an ick you keep referring to yourself in the third person, kind of a turn off." you sat up far too quickly for her liking, looking down at her with pity as she rolled her eyes at your continued teasing's.

"i love you." alessia dropped the act and spoke sincerely, eyes shining with nothing but adoration and borderline obsession with the girl sat on top of her. "i love you more." you smiled, bending to pepper her face with kisses before again affirming you both really needed to shower and clean up, both of you getting to your feet.

"good thing you've got that clingy blonde stalker, could she clean up for us?" "yeah you know what i think i'll keep her around for a little while longer."

~ translations; bella - beautiful ti amo tantissimo, mia bella ragazza - i love you so much my beautiful girl amore mio - my love

[leonw4nter]

Don't Go To Sleep, Don't Rest Your Head

Dad!RE6!Leon x F!Reader

This is a sequel to Holding Our Dreams As You Lie To Rest. Use of D/N for Daughter's Name.

Oh, how tiny his beloved daughter was; when all 7 pounds of her could fit snugly in the nook of his arm; when she could still sit on his broad shoulders and feel the sky beneath her tiny fingers, the only weight he proudly bore on shoulders that usually held humanity’s suffering; when she would be carried home in his arms whenever she grew tired from walking. He missed being able to hold the world in his arms, push her stroller, and help her with the laces of her shoes but she’s a big girl now, ready to take on life outside of the comforts of her home, beyond her father’s reach.

“Honey, call me if you need anything okay?” Leon repeats for the nth time that day, arms crossed as he looks over her things again.

“Yes dad, I will. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” she reiterates. Her smile boasts confidence, sure of herself that she can do this away from her comfort zone.

Leon’s heart squeezes a bit, the transition from “daddy” to simply “dad” making him feel a bit more sentimental though he swears it’s just him missing his little miracle before she’s even really left.

“Remember: no boys and no excessive drinking. Got it?” he sternly adds as he gently strokes her hair. Hair that reminded him of her mother in every way possible.

“Yes, dad. No boys and no drinking–”

“And no caving in to reckless behavior. Also, careful with sororities; they can do more harm than good. Find friends who are up to the standards you set for yourself,” Leon adds.

His daughter groans slightly before nodding, promising she won’t do any of the things Leon doesn’t want her to do.

“Dad, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, okay? I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m grown now. I’m perfectly capable of making sound decisions, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Nonsense, you’ll always be my little girl no matter what,” Leon retorts with a teasing grin as he practically fights the tears threatening to spill from his waterline, bringing her in for one last papa bear hug before sending her off to college. Though she won’t admit it, she knew that deep down she’ll always be his little girl; he would always be there for her– for every victory and for every frustration. Just yesterday Leon was guiding her hand in writing her name for the first time; life is certainly a fickle little thing.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Not less than a few months later, Leon and his team are deployed for a mission. Leon’s faced plenty of outbreaks, always expecting the same outcome: mass casualty and the loss of members on his team but this mission unsettles him the most; the outbreak parameter encompasses where his daughter studies and currently lives in and judging from the intel provided by his superiors and news outlets, things are looking very grim for the inhabitants of that city. He’s tried phoning her multiple times and her signs of activity are short bursts, her responses being quick and short; many times she’s messaged that a call wouldn’t be safe because there’s “creatures” that react to even the faintest sound. The first time she sent that message, Leon immediately got up to pack his things and head to the headquarters to deploy himself into that mission, breaking his daughter’s rule on not letting him go on far missions. He swore to her mother that he would not let anything get to their daughter and he is bent on keeping this promise up, at the cost of his own life if this is how the situation plays out. Finally, their choppers arrive at the area and once again, everything is reminiscent of Raccoon City and Tall Oaks; cars littering the streets, burning fires scattered on the damp road, closed shops, and bloodied roads. Not a single noise can be heard and not a single sign of life can be detected; it doesn’t take dying to see Hell when you are standing right in the middle of the decay of a city, once bustling with life. Leon recognizes the place, spotting a signage with chipping paint nearby, displaying all the top locations in that city like malls, zoos, hospitals, and colleges. “Fuck, I’m only 15 minutes away from D/N.” he thinks. He contemplates moving to where her dorm is but he knows she’s smarter than that; she’s moved somewhere safer. He taught her after all, she learned from one of the best agents in the D.S.O. Mumbling a quick prayer, he reaches into his phone and tries to contact her number and prays that her ringtone doesn’t go off mid-escape. After waiting for a few minutes, she doesn’t pick up. Once more, his worry grows as he notices that she was last active 2 days ago. Their team is given instruction to start moving so they move, keeping their footfalls light and as muted as possible to avoid drawing attention to them.

Night fell and the sun rose, a warm glow cast over the shell of a city’s former glory. All night, Leon and his partner had walked around the place but not seeing any survivors, only more of the infected. Though they had wandered around the city almost all night long, there was a spot that they hadn’t gone to yet. Walking over to an abandoned apartment complex, Leon hears faint taps against a wall. The taps were rhythmic, an intentional beat created with each tap; soon, a hoarse voice calling for help could be heard, his heart lodging itself in his throat. Him and his partner split up, inspecting different floors before meeting up once again. He climbs the stairs, his heart feeling more like a ticking time bomb than an actual organ. He inspects each room, a keen eye not missing a single detail until he reaches an empty apartment with doors broken down.

“Dad!” He hears her, he hears his girl. His feet take him where he hears her voice, nothing else in the world mattering besides coming to her rescue and getting her out of that hellhole. He finally sees her and pulls her in for a hug, a hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as he presses kisses to the crown of her head. A part of him feels relieved to have found her still breathing but another part of him feels like a failure for exposing her to the world’s ugly side, a side he never dreamt of ever showing to her.

“Honey, a-are you alright?” he worriedly asks as he scans her up and down. Her clothes are torn and there's a bloody spot somewhere in her knee then he sees it: a fresh bite.

“D/N, we have to move now. There’s a vaccine that’s on trials right now and so far it’s doing good on tests so I’m going to have you vaccinated, okay? We’ll get out alive, you’ll be fine. Keep that bite covered for me, sweetie.”

He presses one more kiss against her forehead, not missing how cold she’s gotten and almost all color from her face disappearing. She looks at him through glossy eyes, nodding before wrapping her arm around his neck as he helps her out of the spot.

“I’ve located my daughter. She’s a survivor, send medical help.” he radioes.

“I’ve got you, sweetie. Stay strong, we got this right?” he softly asks with a weak grin.

“Y-yeah. W-we… do…” she mumbles, her response almost coming out in a whisper.

She doesn’t have much time left before the infection progresses; her temperature is dropping fast, her eyes are turning pinker with each moment, and her pulse is absolutely speeding so he does his best to urge her to hurry. Finally, they’re out of the building and near the extraction point.

He turns to face D/N to tell her that they’re almost there but is instead met with a low groan. A groan similar to that of the infected. One look at the greenish tinge to her skin is enough to tell him about his daughter’s current situation. D/N lifts her head up, cloudy irises zeroing in on Leon’s neck as the smell of death emanates from her bloodied mouth.

“D/N, please, hold on just a little longer– we’re almost there–” Leon persuaded her. He looked into her eyes again and saw a tiny flicker of his little girl flash on irises that grew even cloudier with each moment– scared and confused. She’s holding on, for his and her sake. She’s hanging by a thin thread but she knows she has her dad to pull her back up and deliver her from this hell; he’ll always protect her. Leon is not a man to break promises.

Despite being a few steps away from the extraction point, there isn’t a chopper or armored car in sight. D/N emits another low groan, this time much louder than earlier. With each movement of her mouth, he can hear the audible clicking of her jaw. She pulls away from him hastily, keeping her head away from his vision so he wouldn’t see the state of utter decay and decomposition her face is morphing into. The face, where her dearly departed mother lived through, is now morphing into a mass of bloody growths and putrid boils; it’s as if she’s defacing the face who carried her for a long nine months, a mockery of the love her father and mother shared. She felt immense guilt for failing to keep herself safe, putting her father into a state of more turmoil but she can’t stop it; no longer can she continue to keep the urge to dive in to a nice, warm neck at bay. Before she can get a chance to hold herself back and try to grapple with her humanity, a switch is turned. Gone is the sweet, loving, and saintly girl there was days ago.

“D/N? D/N, listen to me. Listen to my voice–” Leon says but his words are cut off when she pounces at him, teeth bared to try and yank out his innards.

Tears spill from his face, blurring his vision. How cruel must fate be that out of all the possibilities his little girl could make her exit from this world, this undignified death is what is set for her. His gun is right by his side and with a simple pull of a trigger, another infected is gone but this is not another infected, she’s his daughter. She’s his flesh and blood, the personification of two souls who loved in one. She is the parting gift of his Y/N, the maker of all his dreams. He can’t bring himself to take her out, though it’s the most merciful thing he can give her rather than have her linger for long in this form. He manages to push her away, sending her stumbling back. He reaches for his gun and keeps his finger trained on the trigger but he doesn’t pull; he can’t and doesn’t want to.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” is all he can say.

He knows that her mother is probably missing her, only having seen her grow from her place above and never actually having the chance to embrace her yet he couldn't help but grow a little selfish. Was it wrong for him to want her to stay alive? Was it wrong for him to have more time with the last thing keeping him going?

“I know you want to see our daughter but must you see her this soon? I want her around for just a little longer, honey. Can’t you do that? Can I be selfish for a bit?”, he silently pleads to her.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“This letter for my precious flower D/N from her dear dad (and mom). Only read when moving out of our home to start your life away from me :) To my dear daughter, you were anticipated and cherished before we even saw you on a monitor. Ever since I held and raised you, these sensations only seemed to have grown a thousandfold. You are my precious D/N and before you grow before my eyes (as well as your mom in heaven), there’s things I want you to know: I love your mother very much. I am not a very prayerful man but I sincerely pray with all that I have that you will find someone who will treat you the way I treated you and your mother. It won’t matter if me and whoever you will love don’t get along in terms of interests but as long as they look at you with the twinkle of love in their eyes even when you’re doing something weird, I find comfort that I can entrust your heart to them. You never have to be alone and although there’s going to be times where I won’t get this “being a dad” thing right, I’m always doing my best for you.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

D/N lunges towards him again and narrowly avoids her, moving out of her way as his mind grapples with one idea that seems most desirable in that moment.. D/N advances towards his direction again but he doesn’t move, craning his neck to expose more skin, in order to get a better bite. He shuts his eyes, sadly chuckling to himself. A family reunion doesn’t sound so bad. Somewhere nice, somewhere warm…

A rancid whiff of decay hits his nostril sharply, causing him to gag slightly but he keeps his neck still free for her to feast on. She bellows an ear-splitting screech but a gunshot follows after that. D/N’s zombified body falls limp against Leon but she’s still moving, shrieking. He sees his partner with his gun trained on his daughter’s head, the first shot of his being on her leg.

“This is my little girl! Don’t shoot! Don’t–”

A shot rings through the air, a ringing that will haunt him for the rest of his cursed life.

D/N finally falls limp, blood staining his gear as she lays motionless against his body. He sinks down, cradling her in his arms as he rocks her back and forth. Her body is curled up against him, just like when she was but a tiny baby. To Leon, she still is. Always was.

“My baby,” he mutters as he lets choked sobs free. He cries the hardest he’s ever done; he cries for himself, his daughter, his wife, his broken promises, for all the parents that have seen their child die in their arms. For the life his daughter never got to fully live out.

“My little D/N. Daddy’s here, daddy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe now. You can rest my beautiful angel.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“You’re going to see a whole lot of interesting places and by now, you’ve figured that you and I are tiny things in a grand scheme of things; life is interesting not because of the comforts but because of the challenges, the experiences you get from these things. I’ve always hated being away from your mother when she was still pregnant with you but when I was out there, I thought about her and the beautiful little girl she’s carrying in her belly and suddenly I had a reason to live, to keep fighting. I had to do what I did so that the future you live in will be peaceful; you won’t have to be afraid of monsters under your bed or monsters in your closet. Know that even when you’re a big girl, it’s still okay to cry and it’s definitely okay to ask for help. Don’t push your emotions away and feel them; don’t resort to alcohol, trust me– you’re going to harm yourself and the people who care about you. Indulge in some fun, it won’t hurt to be happy but don’t indulge too much– too much of something is bad (just as too little of something).

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

9 years ago.

D/N’s team was losing by 5 points, her team rattled and tense from all the pressure dawning in on them. It was kind of funny, seeing all these nine-year-olds faces go from smiles and giggles to knitted eyebrows and deep frowns. Everyone’s uniforms were dirty, dark soil staining every kid’s formerly white knee-socks, much to the dismay of some mothers on the benches tasked with laundry in their respective homes– not that Leon cared, he can always get his sweet daughter a new pair; all that matters is that she isn’t afraid to get a little sweaty and play rough.

By now, every parent invested in this game is standing up with their hands on their hips and heads tilted towards the scoreboard. The air feels electric, cheering and chanting from both sides growing louder with each passing moment. Then, a kid from the opposing team hits a home run and scores for her team which triggers the parents of the opposing team to express their joy at the success. D/N doesn’t look too disappointed but she doesn’t look too happy either, just very tired. Her eyes scan the crowd, looking for her dad. Chris had to send her to the game since Leon was still on a mission earlier on that day but luckily, he managed to get it done fast and zipped for the stadium. Finally she spots him, her dad waving at her from the benches and quickly making his way down the stairs and towards her with his arms opened wide.

“Daddy!” she beams. “You’re here!”

She drops her glove and rushes to him, her own little arms opened. He catches up to her, bending down to scoop her into a bone-crushingly, breath-stealing hug. Mud and bits of grass will probably stick on his navy blue polo, the mud drying up and causing a stubborn stain but he could not careless; what’s there to worry about when D/N is all smiles and pure happiness?

“Yeah, I’m here honey. I can’t miss your big game, just couldn’t do it,” he responds while still hugging her. He pulls away before taking out a towel from a bag he brought, wiping her sweaty forehead. Flyaways are everywhere in her braided hair, other smaller strands sticking to her forehead; some dust is also sticking to her flushed face but she looks ecstatic nevertheless.

“Daddy I lost!” she exclaims. Not a single trace of defeat is on her face– she doesn’t even look the least bit exhausted from all that running and catching.

“It’s okay, sweetpea. It’s alright, we’re all still very proud of you,” the “we” in question being her uncles, aunts, Leon, and Y/N.

“You did great out there, champ! You were absolutely speeding back there, you looked really cool!” he comments as he throws her two thumbs up. D/N’s eyes sparkle, chest puffing with confidence upon hearing from Leon about how well she performed in that game.

“Thanks, dad! But I’m really tired, my legs feel like jelly. Ice cream?” she suggests as she throws him the most soft-looking, puppy-dog eyes she can muster. The thing is, she didn’t need to do puppy eyes when he already planned to take her out for some celebratory sweets.

“Of course! Anything for my pro baseball player,” he responds. Standing back up, he puts the towel back in his bag and puts some alcohol in her hands. Taking her tinier ones in his, they make their way out of the field and into the car, where she’ll enjoy her sweet treat.

The loss of her team doesn’t matter when to Leon’s eyes, she will always be his big winner.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“My hands are getting a little sore (sorry honey, I’m not the biggest fan of writing) and I’m running out of the most flowery words to say but basically, the main takeaways of this entire letter are simple: I love you, I’d do anything for you, and that I wish you would choose me to be your dad in every universe. In every twisted reality, in the next life and the lives after those, you would give me the highest honor of having you call me ‘dad’. Well, if I’m not going to be your dad then I guess the most I can contribute for you is that hopefully, you will have the most patient, kind, and understanding dad ever. He’ll be able to provide for you and your mother’s needs and will be willing to let down his life for the two of you, at any cost. Don’t worry though, I might watch over you as a tiny little firefly. That’s all and don’t you ever, ever, ever forget that you always have me and your mother and you’re always welcome home. All my love, your dad (and mom).”

NOTE - I finally finished this after 2 days of working!!!!!! It ended up a little longer than I intended it to so I'm a lil sorry for that... I'm not sure if you guys prefer medium-length fics to longer fics so just feel free to put your preferences in the comments :) Also this is my first RE6!Leon fic so yeah there's that!!!!!!! Gallagher from HSR kinda badd... like... he kinda hot... I don't play HSR but bro he looks so hot, they better make this man 46 like PLEASE. Anyways, that's it and thanks for reading my fics!!!!!! I <333 YOUUU

The chain dividers are from @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Zelda's Personality

I did a post about how Link, despite being a player insert, has different personalities through the games that appear subtly and can be inferred based on his behaviors and responses. So now it's time for the Zeldas! More recent games have given more of a shining role to the character for whom the franchise is named, and I love the variety between them all, so let's explore it a bit! (At least for the games that I've played)

Ocarina of Time Zelda - My gosh. I love her so much. This woman ain't a princess, she is a Queen. She is so determined to protect her people that even as a child she's willing to order people around and go against the adults' wishes, despite being ignored. This girl is determined. Like, BotW Zelda gets put down over and over despite her efforts and she is understandably dejected and goes along with what her father wants. This Zelda is straight up like I'M RIGHT YOU'RE WRONG and just moves on LOL. Not only is she determined, she has a plan. A very foolish childish plan because she is a child and no one is going to stop her.

And, naturally, since it's a child's plan against an adult who has all the other adults wrapped around his fingers, it doesn't work. Zelda is left with a kingdom in flames, the evil man she was trying to stop obtained the Triforce, and her father is dead. She's fleeing her home and spends the rest of her childhood in exile. Something like this could destroy a person. And maybe it did. But she picked herself back up. And not only did she pick herself back up, she trained herself to fight. She learned everything she needed to about the Hero's journey so she could guide him when he returned. She stayed in hiding to avoid Ganondorf's watch. She protected the Triforce of Wisdom. This girl is a certified badass.

This Zelda is a fighter in every sense of the word. Nothing will stop her, not even her own mistakes. But she is sensitive too, she's aware of the damage this has done to Link and is apologetic and so incredibly sad. She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. (Granted, this is Adult Timeline Zelda, but she is just Child Timeline Zelda put through a different scenario, so... same personality for both of them, just different circumstances).

So overall, this Zelda is decisive, resolute, never gives up, empathetic, and probably a little reclusive based on how she's always left to her own devices.

Skyward Sword Zelda - This girl is chaotic and it's wonderful. She pushes her best friend off cliffs and sky islands. She bullies the bullies. She's training in a knight's academy, which more people need to remember dang it. She's protective, she's anxious, she's bossy, she's curious.

This girl is also pretty darn adaptable. Like. She gets thrown out of the sky, out of everything she's ever known, tossed into a world of danger with no one to guide her but a stranger, and has to recover memories of being a freaking goddess and endure a journey of discovering herself while also being chased by Ghirahim. And she does it. Like... Link isn't far behind her, he goes after her literally the next day, and she's already doing her part of her adventure. She was told the fate of the world depends on you and she said okay, then, better get going. Like wow.

She has to have a strong sense of self. This girl found out she was a goddess and told Link after everything, "I'm still my father's daughter. I'm still your Zelda." She was called Your Grace, she was a spirit maiden for a deity her people worshipped, and she still said, "yes. Yes, all of this is true. But I'm still me." Like... I know we see her during her journey when she's still processing and not the aftermath, but this girl has a will of iron and will not let go of who she is.

In summary, this Zelda is courageous, has a strong sense of duty, is a gremlin, excitable, assertive, and stubborn.

Breath of the Wild Zelda - Oh, this poor princess. This Zelda is so sincere and wants to help so much, but she struggles with discovering herself and her powers. She is endlessly inquisitive and absolutely crushed under the pressure her father and her kingdom places on her. She lets it out through understandable frustration, pitting it against someone who, to her, represents everything she is not, which is so interesting.

This Zelda wants for the pieces to just fit but she can't figure it out, and instead of doing some introspection she just continues to look for alternatives. When she does do introspection, it's just to ask why she's defective. Things just need to make sense. I feel like an attitude like this implies that 1, Zelda has no instructor and therefore never learned how to learn, and 2, that implies that everything else she's good at has come naturally to her, such as technology. This girl is a scientist! Who has not learned the scientific method! Though she does try experiments, as poor Link can attest.

When Zelda is allowed to just be herself she seems very sweet and bubbly and excitable. She's so happy when she wants Link to try that frog! She's also incredibly chatty, bless her, having to put up with that silent knight all the time haha (yes, Link does eventually talk to her. Eventually.)

I would also like to note that the instant this girl gets her powers, she goes straight to the castle and holds Ganon at bay for a hundred years. The instant she's free of that burden and bondage, she wants to rebuild her kingdom. Like holy cow. This girl went from doubting herself so much to having so much hope. She is a symbol of hope for her Hyrule.

BotW Zelda is uncertain initially, but learns to have faith in herself and more importantly has all the faith in the world in her people. She is inquisitive, extremely intelligent, energetic, bubbly, and very sensitive.

Twilight Princess Zelda - One of the more mysterious and less prominent Zeldas in her series, this woman radiates quiet strength and regalness. Also, her very first scene (or maybe it's a cut scene flashback in her first interaction in the game) shows her brandishing a sword to fight alongside her soldiers. Hell yes, Queen. But she also has the wherewithal to recognize when she's outplayed. She is wise and knows when to fold to avoid needless casualties. She is willing to put herself in such a vulnerable state in order to protect others. She knew that fighting would still result in the kingdom being overcome by Twilight magic with bonus dead soldiers, so she opted for doing it without the dead soldiers. Knowing when you're beaten and taking it with grace to figure things out takes not only wisdom but humility.

This Zelda is also just... so incredibly understated. Her sadness over her kingdom's fall into disarray is poignant but subtle. Her compassion for Midna when she's dying is muted, but so clearly evident in that she gives her remaining life energy to her. Her acceptance of Link as the Hero, and her sign of respect to him and petition for his aid is just oh my goodness, the regal bow, the willingness to fight alongside him, I love her.

With as little as she features in the game and with as quiet as she can be, she honestly is hard to peg down, but overall this Zelda strikes me as someone who feels deeply and expresses little of it. She's quiet, she's reserved, but she is humble and dignified and incredibly kind.

So there you have it. Some of the ladies for you. I love them all dearly and love to compare and contrast them. <3

[perseabeth]

< What If >

this is a one shot written about @anotheroceanid amazing fic titled When the Horizon Bloom, read it on AO3 you will enjoy it very much and cry very much too - i do not own the idea of the fic and i certainly do not own any character. this is a version of “What if” things happened differently in the fic. enjoy ✨ and i’d love to thank the author again for the amazing fic that i’m becoming obsessed with

****

Percy paced back and forth in her cabin, a growing sense of unease gnawing at her. She felt lost, unsure of whom to turn to, and the lack of dreams last night only heightened her fear. Sleep eluded her; every time she closed her eyes, she was jolted awake by terrifying nightmares.

She had faced Kronos, defeated titans, and held the weight of the world on her shoulders in Atlas’ place. She had endured experiences far worse than any nightmare could conjure, living through horrors that would break most. So why was she so afraid now?

A soft knock on the door pulled Percy from her spiraling thoughts. A blonde-haired girl peeked in. "Seaweed brain?"

Percy lifted her gaze to meet her friend's. Annabeth's gray eyes were filled with concern, as if sensing something was wrong. "You missed breakfast... is everything okay?"

Percy tried to muster a small smile. No, nothing was okay. Morning sickness was wreaking havoc on her, and the nightmares of gods punishing her were relentless. "Yes, I'm okay. I just woke up late," she managed to say, though it was far from the truth.

Annabeth looked at her silently for a minute, her eyes seeming to penetrate Percy’s thoughts. Percy was always amazed at how Annabeth’s eyes mirrored Athena’s, reading a person like an open book. she gulped, hoping Annabeth would believe her words. After a moment, her friend nodded slowly. "Your training starts in 15 minutes. The class is almost ready."

Percy gave a slight smile and nodded. "I'll be there." Yet Annabeth lingered at the door, as if waiting for Percy to confide in her. Realizing she wouldn't get any more information, Annabeth gave a final nod and closed the door behind her.

Percy hated lying to her friends and hiding anything from them. Since the war, they had all promised to be open with each other, to support one another through the healing process. But what could she say? That she was pregnant? Carrying a god’s child? No, not even one—three. Three small lives growing inside her, and she had no idea who to turn to.

She did have an idea. She wanted to turn to everyone around her, but her dreams held her back. Demigod dreams weren’t mere dreams; they were messages, visions, and warnings. And here she was, sleep-deprived because she dreamt of her children being killed while their father watched, emotionless.

The day passed rather quickly, as if Kronos had cursed time to hasten her doom. Everything was normal; life at camp went on as usual. Campers were enjoying themselves, chatting, sneaking drinks, and partying as if there were no worries for tomorrow.

It was ironic how carefree they all seemed. They had won a war and were free, savoring the remnants of their mortal lives. Yet, Percy was once again carrying the weight of the world. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed something strange about her. Then the news would spread like Greek fire, reaching the gods, who would learn of the prophecy. Percy and her children would be doomed.

Unconsciously, she wrapped a hand around her belly, as if trying to shield them from the inevitable. Just then, Percy noticed a pair of lingering gray eyes. "Still not feeling well?" Annabeth's voice pulled her from the ocean of her thoughts. Percy quickly removed her hand from her belly, afraid the gesture might reveal too much. "Yes, don't worry. I think I had too many cookies," Percy muttered, attempting a smile to reassure Annabeth. But she knew her friend wouldn’t buy it. Annabeth nodded silently.

The thing about a daughter of Athena was that she knew when something was wrong. But she waited for you to confide in her before uncovering the truth herself. That’s what Annabeth was offering Percy—time to reveal what was going on before she forced it out of her.

—————

The Olympus council raged with energy—too much energy for Percy’s mortal form to bear. She had been here multiple times before, she reminded herself, but nothing had prepared her for this moment.

She tried to catch her father’s eyes, but he immediately looked away, as if unable to bear the sight of her, ashamed. Her heart sank, and her soul felt like it was shattering. She needed someone to hold onto, but there were too many eyes on her, filled with anger and power. Desperately, she searched for other eyes, gentler eyes that had once looked at her with all the love in the world. Eyes that had held her tight, swearing to protect her from everything.

Percy sought his eyes—sky blue, like a beacon of light amidst the darkness. Her heart yearned for him, remembering how he had looked sitting leisurely on his golden throne, just like the first time she had seen him there. Yet, she couldn’t find those sky-blue eyes. Instead, she was met with golden eyes, burning with rage and a promise of pain.

"Well?" Her uncle's voice thundered through the room, the echo making Percy shrink. She had never been afraid of gods, never. She would have kicked the door of Olympus open and marched in like the hero she was. But today wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about harming her. It was about harming those precious to her—her children, hidden within her belly, shielded from the room's volatile energy.

"Apollo, what do you say about this, since you are, after all, the father?" Zeus’ voice was like thunder, each word more terrifying than the last. His tone dripped with sneer, as if the whole situation was beneath him.

Percy’s eyes remained on her lover, whose gaze had become a foreign land. Apollo did not speak; he just stared at her, as if silently threatening her, blaming her for their predicament. Then, with a cold, emotionless voice, he sealed her doom. "I will have none of this," he stated, turning his gaze back to his father. "They might be mine, but I will not claim them, and they will face the wrath of the gods like anyone else who dares to overstep their position."

Fog and mist clouded Percy’s vision. Tears welled up, blurring her sight. Perhaps her tears were merciful, blocking his face from her so she wouldn’t remember him like this—so emotionless, so heartless, promising punishment. This was the true Apollo, the one she had read about in books, the one who punished Cassandra and skinned a satyr alive. This wasn’t her Apollo. This wasn’t the gentle touch of the sun that had held her warmly. This voice wasn’t the sweet, melodic one that had whispered love to her. These eyes weren’t the beautiful ones she had always admired.

Zeus’ voice cut through the room again, sharp and authoritative. "Then the children should be punished and thrown into Tartarus, and they will take with them anyone who stands in the way." Zeus looked at her, a silent warning in his eyes—'You will go with them if you object.' He continued, "All in favor?"

Percy looked around in horror, her gaze landing on her father, pleading silently for mercy. But all she got in return was, "I agree."

All hands were raised, not one sparing her or her children. Cold, merciless eyes looked upon her, not with pity but with disgust, as if she had committed an unforgivable sin.

Percy’s tears could no longer be held back. She fell to her knees, perhaps because her legs could no longer support her, or perhaps because she wanted to beg. She didn't know. All she knew was that she was crying, her sobs echoing throughout the room, her trembling voice barely holding together.

"Please don’t. Please, please. I’m begging you. Please don’t harm them. Please. I’ll take them away. I’ll raise them far from here, but please don’t harm them."

She wasn’t sure if she was making any sense, wasn’t sure what she was even begging for. All she knew was that her heart was shattering, her soul was dying. She felt an immense, unbearable pain, and she was screaming.

——

Percy jolted awake, the room cloaked in darkness, but the light of the fountain was enough for her to recognize her surroundings. She was in her cabin. Safe and sound. She was safe, and her children were safe.

Tears filled her sea-green eyes once more, her heart shattering anew. For the first time, her cabin, her mini-heaven, felt suffocating. The events of her dream rushed back to her, and Percy could no longer hold back her tears. She needed to get out, needed to breathe. Air was scarce in the cabin, and she needed more.

With shaky legs, she stood and rushed to the door, trying to find air, trying to calm her sobs, but she couldn’t. She burst through the door and into the night. She didn’t remember where she walked or where her legs carried her. All she knew was that she found herself in the middle of a path lined with trees, the only light guiding her being the moon’s gentle glow.

She tried to control her sobs, tried to take deep breaths to calm herself. She was safe. They were safe, she reminded herself.

A sudden movement behind her froze the blood in her veins. She sensed him—felt his presence. His energy was always so warm, so peaceful, that she could always feel him. But this time, this peaceful energy brought her only fear. She didn’t dare look behind her, didn’t dare see if those eyes had turned golden again. She didn’t dare to hear that cold, merciless voice. So Percy stood there, wrapping her arms around herself, protecting herself, protecting them from the coldness she had just begun to feel.

"My love?" His gentle voice was like a sweet whisper, so lovely and filled with emotion. It carried love and concern, just as she was used to, before her nightmares.

"Percy, my love, why are you here?" he asked again, his voice almost a whisper, as if afraid of startling her. That’s when she broke down again. Hearing his voice like that only reminded her of her nightmare, her visions, and what his voice might sound like when all was exposed.

Percy didn't remember how it happened, but she found herself enveloped in warm arms. She remembered his gentle voice whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he held her, shielding her from the coldness of the night. It was ironic how the person she feared was the one giving her peace and comfort now, the only one capable of calming her tears. She sensed the fear and worry in his voice as he held her, felt his concern through the gentle touch of his hand soothing her hair.

If only he knew what he would become in the future...

She stayed there for what felt like minutes, maybe hours. She didn't even realize when he had picked her up and led her to a rock, where he sat with her wrapped in his arms, still caressing her hair and calming her down. She didn’t dare speak or look at him, afraid her eyes and voice would betray her

After what seemed like forever, she finally dared to look at him, to meet his gaze. He allowed her to lift her head, and she saw his eyes—beautiful, clear sky-blue even under the moonlight. His eyes were filled with love and gentleness, just as she remembered, now mingled with concern. Percy’s sea-green eyes locked with his, afraid that if she looked away, his eyes would turn to gold again. Her lover didn’t speak, only looked at her, always considerate, always patient, waiting for her to find peace before finding her voice.

“What’s wrong, love?” he muttered, his voice carrying the gentleness of the world. He brushed away the hair blocking her face, soothing her racing heart. He waited for an answer, but she shook her head, still unable to find her voice.

She felt terrible lying to him; she couldn’t look into his eyes and deceive him, so she averted her gaze, studying her surroundings. Only now did she notice they were in the middle of the forest. Suddenly, a warm hand gently held her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes again. “Percy… what’s wrong?”

She knew this tone—the tone of demanding answers, answers he would get no matter how long he has to keep her wrapped in his arms. A voice inside her head, a tiny voice, told her she could trust him, find peace in him, that he would protect her as he promised. But that voice was immediately drowned by the ocean of nightmares that filled her nights.

Percy shook her head again, trying to find her voice, now raspy from screaming and crying. “J-just a nightmare,” she muttered, still unable to look away as he gently fixed her chin with his warm fingers, holding her gaze.

Apollo studied her for a few minutes before gently stroking her hair again with his other hand. “A nightmare that made you run to the woods in the middle of the night?” he asked, still gentle and patient.

Percy simply nodded and muttered, “A bad nightmare.”

His gaze never left hers, studying her while his hands continued to soothe her. “What was it about?”

Percy gulped. She knew he would ask. He was always curious about every detail of her life, always there listening to her nightmares. He wouldn’t let this one go.

She looked at him, still holding his gaze, as if trying to show him she was being honest. “About the war.”

Apollo simply nodded before Percy felt the gentle touch of his lips on her forehead, kissing away her worries. His warmth spread throughout her body, comforting her, enveloping her in peace. For a fleeting moment, Percy wanted to believe that all was perfect in the world.

He whispered, his lips still on her forehead, "My love, have I ever told you how terrible of a liar you are?"

Percy's heart sank as nightmares rushed back to her—the memory of his cold voice, his golden angry eyes, and his indifferent gaze. She could feel her heartbeat in her hands, only for him to look at her again, his beautiful blue eyes meeting hers, guiding her through the darkness.

His eyes held nothing but pure gentleness, a hint of teasing, and a lot of love. His fingers started brushing her cheeks gently as he spoke again, his voice as gentle as a feather, "You are a terrible liar, and I love that you try to lie to the god of truth." He kissed her nose affectionately.

Speechless and unsure of what to say or how to react, Percy was overwhelmed. her silence didn’t seem to bother him as he continued to brush her cheeks and pepper her face with sweet, gentle kisses. "Now tell me, what’s wrong?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern and love.

Percy couldn’t do anything but shake her head as she attempted to free herself from his embrace, only to find him holding her tighter. He remained silent, patient, silently facing their battle as she struggled against him.

She heard him sigh, and for a split second, fear gripped her—fear of him running out of patience, fear of meeting those golden eyes again. But the more she protested, the gentler his hold became. She looked into his eyes again, his lips curving into a small smile. “You aren’t going anywhere, my love, until you tell me,” he stated, his voice filled with warmth.

She shook her head as silent tears started rolling down her cheeks. “I-I can’t,” she whispered.

He shook his head, as if her answer wasn’t what he was seeking, before kissing her tears away, wiping them away with his lips. “Yes, you can, and you will, Percy,” he sighed before continuing. “I know you well enough to know that nothing, absolutely nothing, could make you run into the middle of the night like that unless it was something terrifying.” He kissed her forehead again, as if aware of the calming effect his gentle kisses had on her. And he wasn’t wrong. The more he did it, the more she felt at peace in his arms, despite all the nightmares.

He gently continued, still holding her gaze. “You looked at our dear grandfather eye-to-eye and stood your ground. I know my Percy. Nothing can scare her. So tell me, my love.”

She wanted to, oh how she wanted to tell him everything, to spill everything and hold him close. But she knew she couldn’t. She knew how he would react, and she knew what they would face.

Percy shook her head again, tears streaming down her face as she forcefully freed herself from his grasp. She couldn’t bear to look at his hurt expression, the pain in his eyes as she distanced herself from him, as if she were afraid of him. And who could she lie to? She was afraid of him.

She kept shaking her head, trying to make him understand. She didn’t want to hurt him, but he had to understand. She struggled to find her voice again. "I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!" she repeated, tears flowing freely. The night’s coldness enveloped her once more, while her body begged her to return to the warmth of his arms. Percy tried to look at him, hoping he would spare her from explaining anything, but she was once again met with his beautiful blue eyes, tinged with pain and uncertainty. His voice broke her, destroying all the self-will she had been trying to gather, as he whispered, "Don’t you trust me?"

She does! She wanted to scream at him that she does, that he was foolish to even doubt it. But does she? Percy questioned herself as she looked at him again. does she trust him? If she did, she wouldn’t feel afraid of him. If she did, she wouldn’t believe he would harm her or their children.

The longer she took to answer, the more pain showed in his eyes as his gaze locked onto hers. Then he spoke again, almost in a whisper, his voice showing hints of pain. "What did I do?"

Silence enveloped them, the night alive with the symphony of the forest. The rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, the distant hoot of an owl, and the occasional chirping of crickets provided a backdrop to their conversation, amplifying the tension between them.

She kept looking at him, observing how he tried his best to understand what he had done wrong. Knowing him, he was probably going through a mental list of things he thought he might have done.

But how could she tell him?

“You didn’t do anything,” she finally said, her voice quivering.

“Then why?” he pressed.

“Why what?”

“Why are you looking at me like you aren’t sure whether you are safe with me or not?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on her, waiting for any reaction.

Percy couldn’t handle this anymore. She couldn’t tell him anything, yet she couldn’t not tell him anything. He stood there, hurt, thinking she didn’t trust him, yet he was so far from the truth.

Apollo slowly stood and stepped a little closer to her. Blame it on her nightmare or her lack of sleep, but she couldn’t help but take a step backward, earning her a quizzical look from him.

“St-stay away,” she muttered, hoping to stop him. She realized too late that her words had indeed stopped him, but not in the way she wished, as he stood frozen, looking at her with pained eyes. For the first time in her life, Percy witnessed fear in Apollo’s eyes.

She had hurt him, deeply. But who could blame her? If anyone with a healthy mind saw these visions every day, they would react the same way.

She tried to speak again, hoping to remove that pained look from his face. “I-I didn’t mean it that—“ But before she could finish, he spoke again.

“You are scared of me… What did I do?”

That’s when Percy broke down again. Maybe it was hormones, maybe it was nightmares, maybe it was a terrible mix of both, but she couldn’t bear to see that look on his face. She started sobbing, holding her face in her palms. She felt him hesitate, unsure whether to step closer or stay where he was, knowing she was scared.

Percy kept sobbing as she muttered, "It’s not you... You will harm us... In the future, you will harm us... I can’t let that happen... They don’t deserve this!"

Apollo’s voice cut through her sobbing state as he simply questioned, “Us? They?”

Here’s a few things about Percy: sometimes words don’t go through her brain before speaking them out, which has gotten her into trouble with gods, titans, and monsters alike. When she is in distress, this tendency becomes even worse, and following order becomes harder for her. And in that special moment, Percy was in her most vulnerable state as she couldn’t control her sobs. Gaea had warned her to be careful with every word she says, but it’s not Percy’s fault that Gaea trusted her with such a mission. And it was too late when Percy realized what she had done as she looked at her confused lover. It was too late to withdraw her words; her tears still blurred her vision as he stood in front of her. “I-I mean us, me and you,” she stammered.

Apollo shook his head, didn’t he just tell her how terrible of a liar she is? “You just said ‘they’? Who are they, Percy?”

She wanted to run, to escape now, never look back because she just realized that she had messed up everything. Her tears were uncontrollable at this point, but she couldn’t let herself drown in them. She needed to stay awake to face him, but with what? What could she say?

In a blink of an eye, she felt warm palms cupping her cheeks, caressing them softly as his eyes poured into hers. “Who are you talking about?” he whispered gently, as if he was aware that whatever topic they were approaching was something destroying her.

Was it worth lying at this moment? Percy questioned herself. Maybe Gaea had promised to save her from all, but was it a real solution? Was she able to run from the twelve Olympian gods forever? Was she really able to postpone whatever destiny her children might face? She is a child of prophecy, and she knows how hard it is to escape prophecies. Was any of it really worth it?

She could feel a voice in her head telling her to confide in him, and another screaming and shouting at her, telling her that these nightmares would come true, and she was only making them come quicker. She could feel invisible hands holding her throat, preventing her from talking, a pressure almost preventing her from breathing. But one thing, one small thing, was holding her like an archer holding a ship amidst a dark storm: his eyes. Those gentle eyes that looked at her with all the love and concern possible. Eyes promising her that he would protect her no matter what. And in that second, she trusted those eyes, for they had never broken a promise.

“Our children,” she whispered, maybe even afraid that he would hear. But she knew that he heard, because the frozen state he was in proved that he did, in fact, hear.

His frozen state only fed her fears more; his eyes never left hers, but he was oddly silent, and that didn’t help her at all in this situation. She regretted blurting it out; she regretted not controlling herself, and she was about to regret confiding in his eyes when the silence was broken with his voice.

“You are—” he began, but couldn’t finish. He waited for her to finish, waited for her to spill the words so she could confirm them.

Tears rolled from Percy’s eyes again. That was it, that was the moment she had dreaded. But when was she a coward running away? Never, and she never would. Percy nodded, still holding his gaze, as she finished his own sentence. “—pregnant.”

And again, frozen, he was back again to that state where his eyes widened, looking at her, searching her eyes for any hint of a lie. She had to break this silence; she had to speak. She led armies, so she could lead a conversation, even with tears rolling down her eyes.

“triplet.. But there’s a prophecy… Dangerous… Gods will be angry… You will be angry… A lot of danger… Tartarus… I need to prote—” But before she managed to finish her incoherent speech, which she was sure made no sense, she felt warm lips on hers.

It was a gentle kiss, soft and tender, like a feather brushing against her lips. It was a kiss filled with happiness, reassurance and love, a silent promise. In that moment, all her fears melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and warmth. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, letting herself be enveloped by his love.

Maybe she wished to believe that it was a normal pregnancy announcement; maybe his kiss did make her feel like that. And for moments, she wanted to believe that. He broke the kiss only to replace it with another tender kiss, and another, and another.

She tried to whisper between kisses, reminding him of their situation: “Prophecy.” But it only gained her an inaudible mumble as he kissed her one last time. Maybe he didn’t hear her incoherent speech; maybe he was also wishing to live in his own world for a few minutes.

He looked at her again, and if she thought that she already found his most beautiful gaze, she was wrong. Because at this moment, there she found the most beautiful gaze. He looked at her with eyes full of love, happiness, pure happiness he barely showed, besides when she confessed her love for the first time. But now, it was a new type of happiness, a new type of hope. His hands never left her cheeks as he kept caressing them with even more tenderness. He whispered, “I love you... so much,” before kissing her again softly and mumbling, “Thank you.”

She hated to break that moment for them; she hated to ruin this happiness. But she had to. She had to tell him the full truth since he already knew the worst part of it. “Prophecy,” she mumbled again. That’s when she caught his attention, and he spoke, “What prophecy are you talking about my love ? I heard of nothing.”

She took a deep breath before she spilled everything to him, from the moment she discovered her pregnancy to the prophecy, to the nightmares, and even Gaea's secret mission in 'helping her'. She could feel Gaea’s rage; don’t ask her how, but she could feel it.

Only after saying everything did she finally dare to look at Apollo, who was now holding her waist with his brows knotted in confusion. He was silent for a few minutes, her anxiety at its peak as she waited for any word from him, anything.

Maybe after telling him everything, he would agree with her plan with Gaea? Maybe he would agree with how dangerous her children are? Maybe he would say that the prophecy could be wrong? She didn’t know. But she did know one thing: his face showed pure curiosity and not anger.

After what seemed like hours, he finally spoke softly, "No." She looked at him in confusion.

"No..." he repeated again, Percy still not understanding what he was trying to say, when he cupped her cheeks and forced her to look at him. "I don’t care what this prophecy says. I’ll have a talk with Rachel for hiding this. But I don’t care what it means."

Percy whispered, afraid of raising her voice, "You are the god of prophecy, you can't say that."

He shook his head, his blue eyes still filled with determination. "If me being the god of prophecy means I’ll let harm come to my children, then I’ll let Delphi crumble to pieces."

"No harm will come to them. I will not allow any harm to come to them, and I don’t care if the price to pay was Olympus itself," Percy tried to shake her head, as if she was warning him that he was saying nonsense, but he fixed her face and made her look at him. "Nothing, and absolutely nothing, will harm you or our children, love," he stated. "I swear it on the River Styx." A sudden thunder broke the silence of the forest.

An oath... he just made an oath while holding her as if he didn’t just make the most sacred oath. Percy tried to reason with him, "But Gaea—"

Apollo shook his head again. "I’ll not let anyone take care of you. I don’t trust anyone with you, and especially not a primordial goddess that was supposed to be sleeping."

"But Olympus—"

"I’ll deal with them. Leave them to me."

"But—" She tried to protest when his lips found hers again in a gentle kiss, silencing her. "Stop with buts. Nothing will happen, and you have the word of a god. I will never allow anything to happen to you... all of you." That’s when his eyes were suddenly filled with happiness and gentleness again. He suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug, burying his nose in the crook of her neck.

As he mumbled in her neck, in a soft, gentle tone, "Gods, Percy..." and "Thank you," she didn’t understand what he was thankful for, but she was sure of one thing: for the first time in weeks, she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders, just like when Atlas took the weight of the Earth from her again. Yet this time, she felt utter peace. Complete peace.

For the first time in weeks, she felt her heart filled with happiness. She was in his arms, the arms of the one who made a sacred oath to protect her and her children. Not just her, but also them. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.

It was worth having this nightmare so she could find him here tonight. Maybe the Fates really took pity on her... just maybe, there is hope.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which music waters a wilting flower on a chilly autumn night and jungkook is stuck by the glue onto you.

> idol!jungkook x reader / strangers to lovers / fluff, slight angst / wc: 4.4k

> warnings: mentions of oc’s toxic ex bf, slutshaming, and alcohol

> in which masterlist!

note: the in which couple’s first encounter reveal?! has arrived with a bam cameo at the end <3 recommend reading the ‘first times’ in the masterlist next if you haven’t yet :D as always reblogs and/or feedback are appreciated 🥰 and yes. i love beabadoobee.

—

“sir, will you help me-“ you panic, eyes pleading for help as you look between the door and the owner of the music shop. “i think it’s stuck.”

“oh! of course, of course. i apologize about that.” the middle-aged man, quick to your aid, ducks out of the counter. “i ought to get this thing changed soon. spent a fortune on it but it’s not doing what it’s supposed to do.”

you copy his chuckle, watching him push up the still half-closed door before shoving it open to the side.

“thank you!” you politely bow your head before stepping out.

“come back again next time! i’ll give you a discount!”

“really? a discount? then i have no choice but to come back!” you whine playfully, smiling at the promise of saving money in the future. you present him another bow. “have a good night! close the door now, it’s cold.”

the 90’s love song playing inside becomes muffled when the transparent glass completely shuts out the outside world once again. instead, the lead vocalist’s voice is replaced by a golden and dulcet humming by a stranger.

you scan for the source of the sound, and at once, you discover it when you whip your head to the right. scrolling through his phone, he’s sitting at the far corner of the old wooden bench— the same boy who was paying at the counter when you stumbled into the store. unbeknownst to yourself, your heart skips a beat. you were transported to a field of flowers when you brushed past him, and you met his big brown eyes briefly when he turned to leave.

burdened by the heavy and uneven weight you’re carrying on your shoulders, you decide to rest on the other side of the bench while you wait for a taxi to pass by. you spare a glance at the oversaturated band posters on the off-white wall behind it before sitting down as their audience.

the humming ceases when he feels your presence beside him.

you cautiously set down the padded guitar bag on the ground, securing it in between your thighs, anxious of getting so much as a scratch on the precious instrument. it’s a dear friend’s birthday tomorrow, and you only found the time and the money to purchase her gift today.

you check your wrist watch. 10:13pm. you fell asleep in the library while studying for a test, and because of that, you’re probably going to be home at around midnight. this place is pretty far and secluded, but apparently it’s known for its good and rare finds. you went here with your friend two months ago just to window shop and one of their bass guitars caught her eye. naturally, you couldn’t resist. her birthday gift has to be this. for some reason, it just feels easier to spend money on your loved ones than yourself.

will you even manage to send a birthday message before you pass out to sleep again? god, you hope so.

you feel your empty stomach grumbling angrily, and you’re not sure if it makes a sound or if it’s all just in your muddled head. yup, you missed dinner, too.

“i’m so hungry.” you cry out quietly, resting your forehead on the neck of the guitar.

fine, maybe you subconsciously said it a little louder than quiet. it was a shot in the dark, curious if the stranger beside you would have any sort of reaction. you hope for a glance at most. he has beautiful eyes, ones you almost feel envious of.

“me too.“ the sulky response slips out of his mouth with an exhausted sigh.

the sound of his voice makes you perk up in pleasant surprise, gazing at him with an amused, tight-lipped smile. on the other hand, he stiffens from the realization of what he just did. he stops manspreading, straightening himself up and awkwardly clearing his throat.

“sorry… it was a reflex.”

“it’s okay.” you reassure him with a quick laugh.

you tear your eyes away from him, watching the moths frantically flying under the street lamps. it’s silent for a moment, except for the shop owner’s on-going playlist and the occassional singing of the abundant crickets.

you face him again with a flair of innocence.

“do you want a granola bar?”

he lifts his head to look at you, the screen’s light reflecting on his tan skin, and that grants you the ability to see his breathtaking eyes. there might’ve been countless instances when they hated how small this bench is, most likely a tight fit for three people, but right now, you wouldn’t have it in any other way.

“it’s just that… i’m going to eat it and it feels rude to eat alone knowing you’re hungry, too.”

his teeth sinks in lower lip, contemplating for a few beats before nodding his head. “yeah, sure. i’d like one. thank you.”

you bring out the tupperware from your messenger bag, unfastening the sides open and separating the lid. as your own wordless way of telling him that they’re not poisoned, you grab one first, taking a small bite, before offering the container to him.

“here you go.”

you stifle a cackle when he pulls down the sleeves of his black hoodie as if he’s preparing to eat a whole course meal. he’s so fucking cute, gentle and dainty while picking up the granola bar along with the parchment paper underneath it. that leaves you with three left. you set down the tupperware between the two of you, loosely putting the lid on top.

“huh?” he exclaims with big round eyes, hand hovering over his mouth as he chews. “did you make this?”

the question makes you wince nervously. he didn’t like it? you could’ve sworn it's the best batch you’ve made so far. “uhm, if it tastes good, then i did. if not-”

“no, no. i like it.” he giggles, waving his hand to shoo your worries. “it’s not too sweet, and it’s soft? how did you make it chewy?!”

“oh-” you breathe out a sigh, clutching your chest in relief. “i just follow a recipe i found online! my neighbor gives me honey like every week so i found a use for it.”

“well, it’s really good. thank you.” he gives you a kind smile, scrunching his nose before resuming to eat the snack you spent your sunday night preparing.

and it’s quiet again. you look the other way to hide the proud smile playing on your lips, the fluttering of your unguarded heart raging and stubborn. maybe if you put food in your mouth, you’ll stop talking… not.

“i’m ___.”

he swallows before replying, distinctive dimples near his mouth making an appearance. “i’m jungkook.”

jungkook. it suits him so well. it’s perfect.

“do you play the guitar?“ jungkook asks curiously, motioning at the instrument you’re holding.

“oh, no- i just got this for my friend’s birthday. she’s in a band.” you share with a chuckle. “what about you? what do you need those giant speakers for?”

“ahh, they are big, aren’t they?” he scrunches his nose, glancing at the two boxes beside his feet. “i just figured buying new speakers would motivate me to work on music more.”

“are you a singer?” you gasp dramatically for effect. “or perhaps, a rapper?”

“i mean…” he smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “i guess i can rap, too.”

“that’s cool. i think you have a pretty talking voice, too.”

“aigoo, thank you so much.” he jokingly bends down his torso for a bow, clasping his hands together with the small remaining piece of granola bar in between before taking it in between his teeth.

the harmony of your laughter bleeds through the chilly air, providing your hearts a wave of much needed warmth.

“thank you too. you gave me an idea what to gift my friends next time.”

“speakers?” his face lights up like of a kid unboxing presents beside the christmas tree. you’ve never met anyone who looks this passionate at the mention of the said device— this whole interaction is giving you the urge to dive deeper into the world of music beyond the sphere of being a casual listener. “they’ll love it. it’s the best gift for me personally.”

you tilt your head to the side. “you know a lot about them?”

“hmmm, i don’t know.” he purses his lips as he hums, eyes falling on the ground as he ponders. “they’re important for shows and work so i naturally learn a lot about them… i often look for reviews and new releases. it’s like a hobby?”

“really? then i’m sold. i need you.”

the carelessly casual words escape your mouth before you can think twice.

“need me?” he repeats your word in surprise, pointing at himself.

you disguise yourself with a nod and a coy smile, acting nonchalant as if you’re not screaming inside. you’ve always been this shameless when you have nothing to lose, but he’s just so pretty that you want to learn shit like what his favorite food is and whether your zodiac signs are compatible even though you don’t believe in them.

“help me choose the best speakers to buy, one year from now. i don’t know anything about music at all, so i always have a hard time with gifts.” you’re pouting sadly by the end, your words bearing the weight of truth, albeit you’re also using them as an excuse to glue yourself onto him.

in your mind, five seconds feels like it’s stretching into eternity. he breaks out into a shy grin, playing with the parchment paper left in his hand before folding it over and over again until it becomes the same size as the nail of his thumb. he stuffs it into the pocket of his washed denim jeans.

“okay then, i should help you. give me your number?”

your hands graze each other as you lay hold of his phone, clueless instruments of your and jungkook’s youthful impulses and anticipation.

“do you have other ___’s in your contacts? should i name myself ‘___ from mj’s music box’?” you inquire half-jokingly, raising your eyebrows at him.

”ey, come on. there’s no need for that.” he chortles, staring back at you with an unnamed emotion in his eyes, but you quickly revert your attention to the screen and you don’t notice.

“i don’t think you’ll remember me just by my name a year from now, though.” you mutter to yourself as you tap on the screen. after that, you tap the call button to save his number on your phone as well.

you’re already handing him back his phone when he finally constructs a reply-

“is that so? then make it difficult for me to forget.”

and the air gets robbed from your lungs. it makes you wonder how many hearts he has broke, being this handsome and charming, and if you’ll even drag this out and stick around long enough to find out.

“be careful of your words. i’m pretty competitive.” you playfully taunt him, softly tugging his wrist to put the device on his delicately wide palm. “don’t blame me when i end up being the only person you think about.”

he matches your energy, a cocky smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he shakes his head. “psh, why would i? that doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”

why are you thinking of ways to keep this flowing instead of retreating and coming up with an obvious excuse to leave? as always, you find yourself most liberated when you meet new people, even when you know they’ll only be a fleeting presence in your life, here to leave a stain or a scar. you wish a taxi never arrives. you wish to be left stranded here for the rest night so you can hear him talk about the first song he ever wrote and you can tell him about the stupid song your first boyfriend wrote for you.

but alas, the universe intervenes with your fantasies and the approaching blazing headlights almost blind your blurry eyes.

you wave your hand to hail the taxi, and you smile at jungkook one more time. “time for me to go.”

“oh, okay.”

the vehicle parks infront of the bench. he watches you hurriedly toss the granola bar you never finished into the transparent tupperware, a feeling akin to disappointment gnawing at his guts.

“wait- weren’t you waiting for a taxi, too?” you wonder out loud as you slide the resealed container inside your bag.

“i’m fine, i have a ride. you go take it- oh, oh- let me help you with that-” he stands up abruptly when he sees you struggling to stand up, lifting the guitar to relieve you of the barrier.

“thanks, jungkook.” you laugh airily, getting on your feet, closer to him than you’ve ever been. he’s taller than you originally thought, and it’s hard to ignore the fact that his flexing forearms are veiny… (you have a suspicion that he’s doing it on purpose. the guitar bag isn’t that heavy.) those, paired with that pretty baby face— he’s so manly and so adorable in a way you’ve never seen in anyone else. he’s a beautiful, refreshing sight to behold.

you’re holding your breath, as if that would freeze the hands of the clocks, halt the earth from spinning on its axis because it’s the only way for you to stay without blaming yourself. the love songs haven’t stopped playing, and a slow acoustic sets out to delude you that this is a scene from an indie romance film, a beginning of something beautiful, but it rarely is. it never is.

his bunny teeth sink into his bottom lip, tainting it a darker shade of pink, before his tongue sneaks out to lick it. “you can go inside.” he generously says, slightly raising his arms to gesture at your cherished gift he’s grasping securely.

you only nod in understanding, walking past him and proceeding to open the door to slide into the backseat. you assist him in putting the guitar inside the taxi and over your lap, and you force your brain to shut down before you can speak again and your friskiness gets you into trouble.

“get home safe, ___!” he brightly chirps, waving at you goodbye.

your cheeks are starting to hurt from all the giddy smiles, but you just can’t stop, not when he has this contagious and bubbly expression painted on his face that’s simply impossible not to adore.

“you too, jungkook.”

his meticulous eyes briefly wander around your figure, checking if you’re too close, and then he carefully slams the door shut. you sink into your seat, swallowing the lump in your throat before telling the taxi driver your address.

you don’t want to think too much, so you close your eyes, hoping to get more sleep to recharge your mental and social batteries. unsurprisingly, you grow restless not even five minutes after. the soothing piano ballads faintly playing in the radio aren’t much help either. an infuriated scream hangs on the tip of your tongue, and you bite it down into dust. instead, you dish out your phone from the pocket of your bag to save jungkook’s number… but then the venomous voice of your ex calling you degrading names ranging from ‘an ungrateful, attention-seeking bitch’ to ‘a slut’ after you broke up with him echo in your tumultuous head, and you begin feeling pathetically small and nauseous. for a split moment you find yourself contemplating whether you should just delete it or not. out of guilt or out of fear, maybe both, you’re not quite certain.

what ultimately pull you out from the dark abyss of relentless overthinking are the first notifications you ever receive with his name attached to them.

Jungkook:

hey this is JK

i just thought of this now ?!..

trade my music equipment expertise for your magical granola bar recipe? :)

you bury your face in your hands, silently crying out— “ah shit, this is so annoying. why does he have to be so cute? i need a drink.”

—

“i’m hungry.” the grumpy complaint spills from your tongue now that bam, your not-so little happy pill, is out from sight.

“me too.” jungkook juts out his bottom lip, lifting his head from your shoulder to look at you. “do you still have strawberry wafers in your bag?”

his question prompts you to hug it defensively. no, just no. “i’m saving them for emergencies-”

he puts his index finger infront of his lips, shushing you with a shake of his head. he tuts. “i know. this is an emergency, baby.”

cornered at the armrest of the couch, you have nowhere else to go. you unwillingly surrender to satisfying his craving, grimacing as he starts rummaging through your bag. this is exactly why you told him you should eat brunch before bringing in bam for his grooming, but jungkook insisted that it won’t take too long. sure, maybe the grooming session itself won’t… but the waiting in line part? that definitely took too long. making an appointment is technically futile when you’re visiting on a weekend.

“mhmmm, i love it.” he moans in satisfaction, devouring the slice of wafer in only two consecutive bites.

you glare at him when he offers you the plastic bag with a teasing smile, seizing it from his grip to snack on the treat while you continue to wait at the lounge area. you’re the only fur parents left here, the last clients before the staff goes on their hour-long lunch break. the sign on the door has been flipped to say ‘CLOSED’.

jungkook wraps one arm around you, pulling you closer by the shoulder and cupping your face with his warm hand to plant an apologetic kiss on your cheek. “i’ll cook you a hearty meal for dinner when we get home.”

you melt in his hold, leaning further against the backrest to release the tension from your body bred by hunger and impatience.

“really?” you feign nonchalance as you make the futile attempt of hiding the pleased smile curving on your lips. “i want chicken. the one you made before, with the creamy and spicy sauce.”

your mouth is practically watering as you describe the dish, the smell and taste of his cooking still vivid in your senses’ memory. it’s making the food you’re eating painfully insipid, but it’s better than nothing.

“and wine, too. no- actually, i’m craving tequi- argh, i’ll settle with wine.”

“okay! chicken and wine for dinner!” he agrees straight away, pressing a kiss on your temple before pinching one more stick of wafer between his fingers. he breaks it into two halves and gives one of them to you.

you accept it wordlessly, but a peculiar feeling is slithering its way into the tight confines of your heart, and you can’t withdraw your eyes from closely observing your gorgeous boyfriend. he brushes off the crumbs that fell on his white t-shirt and his lap after he finishes his share, still chewing as he tenderly takes the empty plastic from your hand. just as you predicted, he finds entertainment in folding it as small as possible.

“this is giving me déjà vu.”

“déjà vu?” he tilts up his head, doe eyes widening as you’ve captured his attention.

“uh-huh, you know when we first met…” you trail off, sending him a threatening look when the confused expression on his face stays unchanging. “you remember, right?”

his mouth hangs open before his eyebrows knit in irritation, posture straightening as he stammers with his defense. “what kind of question is that? you’re hurting my feelings- you were wearing a varsity jacket with the number 6 on it!”

“jungkook, i wore that like everyday for four months.”

his expression softens, pierced lip forming a pout. “do you even know that i-i… ah, i’ll show you instead!”

“show me what?”

he digs his hand in the pocket of his dark blue denim jeans, dishing out his wallet. you peer at him with curiosity as he rapidly unzips it to comb through his cards, pausing at his driver’s license and removing the white paper hiding behind it.

“no way-” you splutter, nearly choking on your own spit as your hunch grows enormously.

he unfolds it to reveal the faded blue ink that writes the most crucial and specific details of the first time the universe conspired to make your paths cross.

“look, i still have the receipt from the night! november 11…”

you notice him squinting at the faint characters, and you momentarily disconnect from the surge of mixed emotions to pull out his prescription glasses from the collar of his t-shirt. you affectionately wear it on him, weaving your fingers through his hair to brush away the loose strands from his bun blocking the lens.

“thanks baby- it’s november 11, 2017. at 9:55pm!”

jungkook originally kept this receipt for a month incase he had to return the speakers due to unforeseen defect or damage. but then you never stopped talking, and you became the only person he thinks of 24/7 just as your coquettish warning told. the thought of throwing it out never occured to him. instead, he preserved it in his wallet because he carries it with him everywhere he goes. he would even argue that it’s his most important property in it. he can have his credit cards cancelled then replaced, but this piece of paper is once in a lifetime.

mj’s music box closed down due to the pandemic. he hasn’t told you this, didn’t want to break your heart when he found out. he knows that you treasure the place as much as him, if not more.

meanwhile, the new-found knowledge has rendered you speechless, unblinking, buffering.

“what’s with that face? you’ve never seen this in my wallet?” he quizzes you in bewilderment, smiling humorously.

“of course i haven’t! you want me going through your wallet without permission?!” you whine, hugging his arm and hiding yourself behind his back to calm the intense pumping of your heart.

oh, your sweet, sweet jungkook— he never runs out of way to make you fall in love with him all over again.

“my love, you know i don’t care about things like that.” he chuckles, astonished by how you still highly value and respect his privacy and boundaries despite how long you’ve been together. it just occurs to him then, that at the very core of your relationship, this is probably why he never once regretted moving in with you. he says it all the time, but he just feels so goddamn lucky to have you in his life. he loves you. he loves everything about you. even the things he doesn’t like, he loves.

“aren’t you going to eat that?”

you’re overflowing with his love, you can’t stomach anything else.

“i won’t.”

“i’ll indulge myself then.” he cages your hand in his, raising it for the wafer to reach his lips. he bites it all the way down like a bunny eating a carrot, ending the journey with a chaste kiss on your knuckle. “you’re too quiet… are you crying?”

you shake your head profusely, tightening your embrace. “i love you so much, i can’t think. i just want to hug you.”

he smells a different type of sweet nowadays— more manly, more mature, binding you in an enrapturing spell, and with a suble hint of a baby scent that somehow makes him much more intoxicating. it’s overwhelming to think about— the amount of perfume bottles you’ve bought and consumed after asking one another if they smell too basic or too strong; the amount of times jungkook changed his wallet and took the receipt along with him because it only felt right.

“mkay, i’m not going anywhere.” he whispers, nosing at your hair.

and so, he stays stuck by the glue onto you as he gulps down a bottle of water, as he returns his wallet in his pocket with grunts of difficulty, as he deletes a promotional text on his phone sent by his service provider. he suspects that you’ve already fallen asleep. after all, you did spend the entire night dancing to the songs he sang along to. you wore the crocheted blanket you made as a cape and a dress, flowing with your graceful movements controlled by the lyrics and the beat and the melody and his compliments and his giggles.

he’s proven wrong when you slowly turn your head, cheek squished against his bicep. with heavy eyelids, you search for his hands, tangling them with your lonely ones.

“want to hear something silly about that day?”

“i’m all ears.” he beams eagerly, watching you twiddle with his long and slender fingers.

“do you know why i offered you my food?”

“because you couldn’t let a pretty boy like me succumb to starvation?”

“weeeell, there’s that…” you admit to his confident guess. “but aside from that, i wanted to see your nails closely.”

“my nails?”

you make a noise of confirmation as you trace his tattoos, a laugh seeping from the cracks of your relaxed demeanor. “to see if they were clean and trimmed or not.”

“so…” jungkook, the most hygienic man you’ve ever met, is digesting what you just confessed to him. “if they were dirty, you never would’ve told me your name?”

“hmm, yeah. because i always badgered my ex about it and you know how that relationship ended, so i thought enforcing those type of rules would help because i don’t want to deal with that shit again.” you cringe at younger you’s naivety and desperation, smiling shyly. “and it kind of… worked out so well? it sounds so funny to me now. i actually love myself for that.”

“fuck, baby,” he sighs.

he can’t imagine how a human being could ever dare to treat you with anything but gentleness. literally, can’t. it makes him sick to his stomach, makes the blood in his veins boil. he feels disturbed by the memories that still haunt you, and he feels angry because he is powerless and he can’t erase them no matter how hard he tries.

he caresses your face, planting doting kisses on your lips. the ghost of his affection lingers, like an invisible lipstick mark. “i wish i met you sooner.”

“what are you saying? i think we met at the perfect time!” you console his frustration, grinning when the epiphany lands on top of your bittersweet flashbacks. “out of the 365 days of the year, we met at 11/11. you’re my wish come tru- bam!”

the shocked, high-pitched squeal freefalls from your mouth when bam excitedly jumps on your laps out of nowhere, the weight of his upper half crushing your thighs underneath him. the dog smiles at you, panting.

“bam, i missed you but i was just about to tell your dad something romantic!”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—