Can Someone Make A Very Angsty Harwin Strong X Reader Story? Or An Unrequited Love Something Because

silver spring | coriolanus snow

Description: Coriolanus Snow knows that he shouldn't have ended up this way. He knows that he was destined to be something better. The woman sleeping beside him is a testament of his reckoning, Lucy Gray is a ghost that he tries to forget. (Snow and Reader's marriage told through the cold beliefs of Coriolanus.)

Pairing: young-president!coriolanus snow/wife!reader

Warning: childbirth, major character death, angst, snow is haunted by lucy gray's memory.

"Time cast a spell on you But you won't forget me." - Fleetwood Mac.

[...] He was glad about the erasure. It was just another way to eliminate Lucy Gray from the world. The Capitol would forget her, the districts barely knew her, and District 12 had never accepted her as their own. In a few years, there would be a vague memory that a girl had once sung in the arena. And then that would be forgotten too. Goodbye Lucy Gray, we hardly knew you.

"Are you alright?" you cleared your throat seeing him in deep thought. There was always something mysterious inside the man that you married - he was always deep in thought. "You came to visit?" he seemed disinterested in what you had to say. "I-they told me that you didn't eat dinner yet," you managed to choke out.

He was very clear and precise. He told you that he couldn't stand you - that he hated you, and it was the very reason that you were wed.

An amused chuckle exits his mouth. "Aren't there more important things to have your attention?" he raised an eyebrow, staring at you up and down with that incredulous stare.

You seemed to amuse him - to some extent.

"- like running our household or gossiping with your friends." he mused, returning back to his paperwork. His statement made you feel awry, you were never the one to listen to gossip - the suggestion that you should do that only cemented the fact that he didn't know you - didn't bother enough to know you. "I was worried that you'd starve without dinner." you took another step forward.

He shakes his head.

"I will not die without dinner." he scoffed - dismissing you.

It was late at night when Coriolanus stumbled inside your room. By then, he could hardly make out the outline of your body on the bed.

He couldn't believe that the woman he hated - had finally become his wife. "Coriolanus," you mumbled - eyes trying to adjust with the dim light. "Did I wake you?" he removed his jacket, surprised at his tone. "N-No," you stuttered. A meek prey against him.

You moved slightly, leaving him enough space to lay beside you.

Coriolanus was surprised that you slept that quick - though, perhaps he was also thankful. He didn't want to create a reason for small talk. Your purpose in his life wasn't to be loved - it was to create children, and to strengthen his political prowess.

The moment he set his eyes on you - he vowed to never love or care for you. He couldn't afford to love again. He knows what love feels like - Lucy Gray manipulated him, both body and soul. Until now he doesn't know if she is truly dead. He wishes that she is.

He is snapped away from his thoughts again.

This time, you wrap your arms around him. His eyes widen in surprise, he opens his mouth to speak but he relents seeing your sleeping figure.

He may hate you, but it does not stop him from finding you beautiful.

It was a few months later when he sees you again - this time with good news. "They tell me that our child is the size of a small ball." you smiled, reaching for his hand and placing it on your stomach. This was one of the few moments where he showed his love. You were sat on his lap, almost inhaling his scent at the proximity.

It was all for show, you thought. He had guests in the courtyard, and they could see you from the window.

"I've thought of names, but I wanted you to choose too." you continued, licking your pink lips. Oh, Coriolanus wanted nothing than to kiss those lips right now - but alas, his ambition ruled him. "What are they?" he continued rubbing your belly.

"Brutus, if it is a boy and Lucy-"

"No, not Lucy. Something else." he demanded, interrupting you. "Josephine," you quickly replace and he nods.

"- but if there are other names that you prefer, you may choose." you stared deep into his eyes. "You bleed, you decide." he whispered, his hands trailing up to your neck. "Kiss me," he suddenly demanded.

"What?" your eyebrows merged into each other.

"There's people watching, kiss me."

And you obeyed him.

"As pure as the driven snow," you mumble while soothing the pain in your stomach. "What did you say?" Coriolanus raised an eyebrow. "Our child is as pure as the driven snow," you repeated - almost seeing his face in a dream. "Where did you come up with that?" he chuckled, slowly used to your company.

"You mumbled it in your sleep." you responded, continuing to write on your journal. "Well, I can't remember saying that anymore." he shrugged, feeling paranoia gnaw at his bones.

Lucy Gray, let me live.

"It sounds familiar, it's from that tribute - I watched her then, but its been so long I can't even remember." you chuckled, Lucy Gray Baird, the songbird from District 12.

You were enamored by her - intrigued by her voice. Your husband seems to be the same. "Is that why you wanted to name our child Lucy?" he questioned, her name tasted bitter on his tongue. "No, of course not - you'd never approve." you scoffed.

"Why wouldn't I? I don't know Lucy Gray personally." he lied once more, maintaining his narrative. "You told me that the Games were created to remind the Districts of what they are - animals." you remembered, not fully believing his speech. "You would hate me if I named our child after an ... well, someone that you hate."

"Good, and don't mention Lucy Gray ever again." his eyes narrowed.

SOUR | JJK

PAIRING: Boxer Jungkook x Ballerina Reader

GENRE: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, BOXER AU, DANCE, AU SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST

Words: 10k🥸

WARNINGS: abusive parents, drugs, making out, Jungkook breaking in again, cursing, they're complete opposites, cringe nicknames, ANNOYING fangirls, reader is insecure, polar opposites dynamics, emo boy Jk, inexperienced reader, bullying

SYNOPSIS:

In the world of boxing, Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of an ace with his tattoos and rippling muscles. You, however, are his opposite—a delicate presence. When told you're not his usual type, doubts arise. Are you truly meant for each other?

A/n: Hiiiiiii it's that time again! Hope you enjoy reading this update and please let me know what you think or if you have any ideas I could add in the future also just wanted to take a moment to say ty to each and every one of you who keeps coming back to read my lil stories or just discovering them for the first time whether you've been here for a while or are brand new on this blog! You're all welcome (as long as you're over 18 eep-) 🤍. Let's go feral over this Jungkook together in the asks <3.

Dressed in a black shirt and a pair of loose training shorts, Jungkook's muscles were prominent beneath the fabric as he made his way to the boxing area.

Theres sounds of gloves meeting punching bags through the place and loud music blasting over the speaker as the scent of sweat hang strongly in the air.

Frustration welled up within Jungkook as he caught a glimpse of his self-proclaimed fan club, who seemed to have found their way near the ring. He rolls his eyes.

A surge of annoyance coursed through his veins, and a quiet "fuck" slipped past his lips but is gaze quickly fixed on the boxing ring that stood at the center of the room like a trophy.

Jungkook was pumped to kick some serious ass today, eager to release all the emotions that had been swirling around in his head for the past few days. He was now dating you—the fucking girl of his dreams–what better way to celebrate, than by going all out and fucking up his opponents?

Jungkook had always been passionate about working out, pushing his body to its limits with hardcore training.

But there was something about boxing that ignited... excitement in him—a primal energy that had caught his complete attention.

It was more than just a way to get stronger for him– it was an opportunity to prove his strength, both physical and mentally testing his limits.

The sound of leather gloves connecting with the punching bags, the shouts of trainer Chan motivating his friends who came earlier than him today, all filled him with happiness, only thing that could make today better was you.

But there was no way he'd let you set foot in this place, not with all these sweaty men, weirdos, and the damn crazy fangirls swarming around

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook stepped onto the padded floor, the ring was his sanctuary, a space where he could let his true self shine.

He easily put on a pair of boxing gloves, tightening the straps around his wrists with practiced movements. The weight of the gloves was familiar, a reminder of the victories he had earned over the past years–Jungkook was this gyms–no–this cities pride whenit came to boxing.

Flexing his knuckles inside the gloves, he cracks his neck and looks at Namjoon, his friend and todays opponent.

"Good luck fucker" Jungkook joked earning a laugh from the small crowd that had formed around the ring–and this was just practise, when it came to an actual fight, people would pay thousands to see him go all in.

"You too kid"

With that, the bell rang, and the sounds of punches and grunts began.

-

"Three, two, one... Three, two, one..." Mrs. Chuu acknowledges you with a nod as you flawlessly execute your choreography, just as you had rehearsed these past few weeks.

"And two, and three, and..." Mrs. Chuu furrows her brows, shaking her head. "You're going the wrong way, Y/n," she speaks firmly. "I can't understand why you consistently turn left instead of right." She shakes her head "Again."

You nod, regaining your composure, readjusting your skirt and foot placement, and gripping the ballet bar once more, your body was tense, but from the outside you looked as effortless and soft as possible.

After dedicating a solid seven hours to dancing today–with well-deserved breaks sprinkled in–it was no surprise that exhaustion was settling in.

You were used to this kind of exhaustion. It was like a routine for you, dancing for seven days a week. The only silver lining was that on Fridays, you got a sweet long break only having to be at the studio for 1 hour of stretching—a well-deserved rest day.

"Hey, focus, y/n!" Mrs. Chuus voice snaps you back to reality, making you bitebyour lip for getting caught daydreaming

Your mom was about to arrive any minute now, eager to see your progress. And to be honest, both you and Mrs. Chuu dreaded her arrival. She had this annoying trade to nitpick and find flaws in everything.

"She's gonna be all over you, judging your every move," she sighs, fully aware of what was about to go down.

Your mom's a known perfectionist and a pain in the ass, no doubt about it. "you have to nail this. There's no room for errors L/n" she scolds.

You give a nod, glancing at yourself in the mirror.

You adjust your pose, making sure everything is on point.

As the musiv starts, you immerse yourself in the flow of it, letting it guide your movements. The music fills the room, your body signaling you exactly what to do. You're in your zone now, giving it your best. It's like you and ballet are in perfect sync–one.

You steal a quick glance at Mrs. Chuu, who's watching you intently. She's got that poker face on, not giving anything away. But deep down, you know she's analyzing every step, every turn, every facial expression–maybe even if a strand of hair lays weird.

From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of your mom walking into the studio. She exchanges pleasantries with Mrs. Chuu before her gaze sets on you. Instantly, nerves kick in.

What if you stumble? What if you miss a step? Your mind starts wandering threatening to throw you off balance.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there's a loud crash that sounds through the studio. You feel yourself losing balance, and before you know it, you're down on your knees, completely crashed on the floor.

The room falls silent, and you can practically feel the weight of your mom's disapproving gaze tearing you apart.

This is it. You're done for.

You brace yourself for the criticism that's about to rain down on you. She's never going to let you hear the end of it. Shit

Her voice breaks the silence. "Y/n L/n." You don't dare look up, too scared to meet her eyes.

"Not one thing can you do right."

You freeze, not surprised by her harsh comment. It feels like a punch to the gut, though, and your breath hitches. You've been working so hard, giving it your all, and now it feels like it's not enough.

You gather your strength, slowly lift your head, and meet her gaze head-on nodding and standing up again, fixing your outfit. "I'm sorry mom" you whisper close to tears, not of sadness, but of stress.

"I'm leaving. You're such an embarrassment," your mom's cutting words hang in the air as she actually walks out, not even bothering to apologize or offer any reassurance.

The embarrassment settles in, and you feel a wave of humiliation wash over you. Getting yelled at in front of Mrs. Chuu was beyond...uncomfortable

But before you have a chance to dwell on the situation, you feel a comforting hand on your shoulder. It's Mrs. Chuu, her presence bringing a sense of solace. She gives you a small smile.

"Everyone makes mistakes, y/n," she says gently, her voice reassuring. She walks over to your bag and gets your water, handing it to you. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You know how your mom can get. You don't have worry about what just happened."

You nod, grateful for her words of encouragement. Mrs. Chuu has always been there for you, not only as a dance instructor but also as someone who understands the relationship between you and your family and the pressures that come with it.

"Thanks, Mrs. Chuu," you say giving her a sad smile.

-

Kook🩷: how's my girls day going?

Today 5pm

A soft smile forms across your face as you read the text message on your phone, causing a faint blush to colour your cheeks. Sitting on the studio floor, with Mrs. Chuu is already gone. You find yourself lost in the moment, thinking of when you would see Jungkook, your boyfriend, again.

"If you only knew, Kookie..." you whisper to yourself, a sad shine in your eyes, and with a quick press of your fingers on the screen, you type out a response tilting your head.

With newfound energy, you gather your belongings and make your way out the studio.

You: good, Im heading home right now. How was yours?

Today 5:07 pm

Jungkook's brows furrow as he looks down at his phone, his expression shifting into a frown. "Good? Just good?" he mutters under his breath, a sense of confusion creeping in. It didn't add up. He was used to receiving a "very good!" or "amazing."

The simplicity of "good" left him feeling unsettled. Something must be off with yoy. Maybe you were just tired, he tried to convince himself, shaking away the negative thoughts.

Just as he's about to lock his phone, determined to put it out of his mind, a girl, Wendy, interrupts his train of thought with a god awful smile. "Jungkookie, we're all going out for drinks. Will you join us?" she asks, her voice carrying a hint of eagerness.

"No," Jungkook responds abruptly, dismissing her invitation. He swiftly grabs his bag, ready to make his exit. However, Wendy insists, stopping him. Annoyed, he glances back at her, his eyes basically telling her to fuck off already.

"But why not? You did such a great job today," Wendy chirps, her voice slowly getting on his nerves "it's on me!"

There's something about her overly cheery demeanour that rubs him the wrong way. Her piercings and tattoos may give off a rebellious vibe, but Jungkook can see through the facade. She's one of those manipulative bullies who always gets what she wants. He knows she's after him, and he hates the thought of him being with someone other than you.

"I'm going home," Jungkook states firmly, repeating his decision, tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"Who's got you by the balls, huh?" Wendy's real demeanor shines through, but Jungkook isn't fazed. He's seen this side of her before.

She had pushed her limits in the past, causing trouble that led to her being kicked out. This gym is not her personal Tinder playground, where she can just stroll in and pick whoever catches her fancy in the moment.

He meets her gaze with a firm expression, his voice laced with anger. "You wanna get kicked out of here again?" he questions, his tone carrying a warning. He knows exactly what she wants from him.

Wendy smirks, her lips forming an enticing pout. "So you know what I want," she sing-songs taking a step closer to him. "Then why don't you give it to me?" Her voice drips with suggestion, her fingers lightly grazing his chest. It's a calculated move and he knows.

Jungkook's expression hardens as he pushes her away, "Back the fuck off, Wendy. Find someone else to fulfill your needy desires. I'm not down," he growls scanning her from head to toe, already reaching for a cigarette to light up once he's outside the building.

What a fucking day

"Get the fuck off my back," he rolls his eyes, dismissing her presence as he confidently walks away.

"Aish" Wendy is left huffing and stomping her feet in frustration, making her way back to her clique.

-

"...I'm feeling lonely..." you sing, playfully belting out the lyrics to a catchy new song while rummaging through your wardrobe.

It was that time of year again—time to declutter and donate some of your clothes. You realize you've accumulated way too many pieces, and it's always a good feeling to give to those who needed it more. This has become a bit of a tradition for you.

As you're completely engrossed in what you're doing, dancing to the beat of your favourite music–knock

Out of nowhere, there's an unexpected knock on your window that jolts you right out of your daydreamjng. You quickly hit pause on your playlist, and with a hint of curiosity, you cautiously look around "what on earth...?" Walking back into your room making eye contact with none other than the one and only Jeon Jungkook, standing on your balcony once again like he owns the place.

You can't help but feel a mix of excitement and panic. Like, damn, how does this guy manage to pop up at the most unexpected moments? He's like a master of surprises. Your master of surprises.

As you lock eyes with Jungkook, a grin stretches across his face, and you can practically see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Is this going to be a regular thing now?" you teasingly ask, opening the window and letting him in, Jungkook adjusts his shirt, his expression back to a smile. Hed once again climbed the tree in front of your window just to see you.

"It's the only way I get to see you. Should I start knocking on your door instead?" he playfully retorts, leaning in for a quick "hello" kiss and the surprise of his spontaneous affection leaves you momentarily stunned, your breath hitching at his unexpected gesture.

"I-I was just cleaning out my closet, though... I don't know if that's so interesting for you," you say, walking back to your walk-in closet and settling back down on the floor amidst the pile of clothes.

"I'll help you," Jungkook smirks, joining you and holding up a cute pink top that you hadn't worn in months. He gazes at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Try this on for me," he suggests, passing you the shirt.

It was a cute shirt, you remember wearing it for practise once or twice.

"You want me to try this on?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook as he holds up the cute pink top. A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, and you can tell he's up to something.

Jungkook smirks, his teasing nature in full bloom tonight. "I just want to see how it looks on you," he replies, shrugging. But Jungkook knew what he was doing.

"Well, if you're that eager to see me in this shirt, who am I to deny you the pleasure?" you tease, talking like one of those girls you went to rpivate school with.

Taking the top from him you head to the bathroom to change making Jungkook poke the inside of his cheek.

As you slip into the pink top, you notice that it fits in all the right places. It looks perfectly fjne, accentuating your figure, and you can't deny that it looks great on you. A smile spreads across your face.

Walking back to where Jungkook is waiting, you strike a playful stupid pose, "So, what do you think sir? Does it pass the test?" you ask, twirling slightly to show off the shirt.

Jungkook's eyes widen as he takes in your appearance, clearly impressed by how the shirt enhances your...boo-chest. He smirks, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he responds. "You look cute," he admits, his voice filled with genuine adoration.

You feel a warm blush creeping up your cheeks, flattered by his compliment. "Well, I guess this shirt is a keeper then," you say, getting shy again.

"It's not just the shirt, sugar. It's you. You make everything look incredible," he says, his voice laced with affection.

A smile tugs at your lips, and you reach out to gently brush your fingers against his cheek. "You always know how to make me feel special," you whisper, staring into his dark eyes "I really like you Jungkook" you confess, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind his ear.

"I like you even more," he smirks, playfully pulling you onto his lap "A lot more," he teases, causing you to lightly hit his chest and pout in response.

"So, what exactly are you doing here? You know it's risky, Jungkook... my parents..." you say, biting your lip and sitting up straighter, suddenly realizing the seriousness of the situation.

"Well, we'll be fine, sugar. Just be quiet," he reassures you with a smile.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "Me? Quiet? It's my room!" you complain, shaking your head. "I don't care if they hear me, but seriously, my mom heard you last time. I still can't believe I managed to convince her that there was no one here."

"Because you're my smart girl," he says, raising his eyebrows and playfully pinching your arms. "You're tougher than you look."

You let out a silent sigh, trying to make him understand the seriousnes of the situation.

Taking another piece of clothing from the pile and analyzing it, Jungkook shrugs, saying, "I'm just here because I was bored at home. Can't a boyfriend visit his girlfriend in peace?"

With another playful tap on his chest, you exclaim, "It would be so freaking adorable if my parents wouldn't go all crazy and ruin my life if they found out about us." Frustration lingers in the air as you mindlessly toss the skirt into your "give away" bag, silently hoping to finish decluttering by tonight.

"Seriously, Kookie," you hiff, biting your lip in concern. "Can't you give me a heads-up when you're planning to swing by? It's not always just me in my room, you know." You look at him, your eyes worried.

Jungkook can't help but let out a hearty laugh at your plea, pinching your cheek affectionately. "Kookie, huh? I kinda like that nickname," he admits, before clearing his throat "only from you thoigh, of course"

"Kook..."

Leaning in closer, he whispers, "Alright, alright, I promise I'll try to give you a heads-up next time, sugar," he starts "but you gotta admit, the surprise makes it more thrilling." He smirks, fully aware of the effect he has on you.

You roll your eyes, hitting his arm. "Thrilling, huh? Well, it's not so thrilling when I'm on the verge of a panic attack every time you appear out of thin air." You try to sound annoyed, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips when you look at him. "Poof" you imitate with your hands "like that"

"I'm sorry, sugar. I didn't mean to scare you. I just can't stop thinking about you, i have to see you, even if it means risking your parents' wrath." He plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his tone still teasing

You melt into his embrace, "I know, Kookie. I can't stop thinking aboutyou either...," you admit, burying your face in his hard chest. "Just... let's try to be a bit more cautious, okay?."

He holds you tighter, "Absolutely, if that's what my pretty girl wants."

In that moment, as you nestle in his arms, you sigh "this is nice, I never got why people hugged so much until now" you smile kissing his nose. "Let's get this done yeah?" You say pointing to the pile of clothes, Jungkook sighing dramatically. "It's so much..."

-

The walk-in closet is an absolute mess it's bursting at the seams with pants, skirts, and shoes. It's like a fashion explosion in here if you were honest.

And right in the middle of all that fashion shit, you find yourself tangled up with Jungkook, his lips eagerly meeting yours and creating audible smacking noises.

What started as a simple decluttering mission has quickly escalated into a full-blown make-out session.

"Wait," you manage to breathe out, lightly tapping his shoulder. "How do people make out for hours on end?" You take a moment to catch your breath, wiping off some of your lipgloss from Jungkook's smirking lips.

"I don't know, never really cared," he nonchalantly shrugs, gripping your waist as you sit on his lap, ready for another round of kissing. But you put a stop to it.

"No, seriously," you insist, "Have you seen those movies? It's insane how they can keep it up for so long!" You start to rant, but Jungkook interrupts you once again.

"Sugar, you're my girlfriend, but respectfully, shut up and kiss me," he playfully bumps his nose against yours. "You're such an interesting girl, you know that?"

"Wow, I'll just take that as a compliment," you say, raising an eyebrow and pursing your lips playfully. Glancing at the clock, which annoyingly showed 11pm, you let out a sigh of frustration. Time was slipping away, and there was still so much left to do.

As you pondered, Jungkook leaned in, his big hand gently squeezing your hip and pulling you closer "Kiss me again." A mischievous smirk played on his lips as he licked them suggestively.

Caught off guard, you bite your lip, glancing around the room. There was still a lot to be done–it far from complete. But, after a moment of consideration, you give in to the temptation.

Okay, fine. Just a bit more You think to yourself.

With a hushed whisper, you let your agreement slip, your voice shy.

Despite the nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you of the unfinished decluttering, you cave, after all, a little more fun couldn't hurt, right?

Jungkook's lips connected back to yours, and you could feel the intensity of his kiss as his skilled tongue left you breathless. His hands roamed around your body, but always with a respectful touch, only grazing your waist or arm.

With gentle pecks, he playfully nudged his nose against yours, provoking a shy giggle. It felt surreal, as if he couldn't possibly be real.

After a moment, he broke the intimate silence, his voice slightly husky as he asked you, "Hey sugar."

You responded by leaning your head against his hard chest, finding comfort in his embrace.

As you relaxed in his arms, he asked, "Did anything... happen today?" His tone grew more serious, and he cleared his throat, sitting up straighter.

"What? Why do you ask?" confusion formed across your forehead as you furrowed your brows, wondering why he was bringing this up.

He sighed softly, his fingers playing with a stray strand of your hair. "Just because your text seemed a bit off when I asked you about your day earlier" he explained, his eyes searching yours.

Your lips instinctively pressed together as you bit down on them, deep in thought, reflecting on the events of thsi afternoon.

"Everything was fine." you glance at Jungkook, offering a shrug, it was a lie, but you didn't want to burden him with the truthful details of your mom completely losing it.

Jungkook wasn't stupid, and he could tell when you were lying. "Aish" He let out a soft sigh, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "Why don't you want to tell me?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

The soft touch and the way he looked at you made you squirm uncomfortably. You were so used to people not caring about your problems that it felt strange for Jungkook to actually be interested. Did he truly care, or was he just asking out of obligation as your boyfriend? The doubt crept into your mind, leaving you questioning his intentions.

"It's not a big deal," you shrugged, trying to downplay the situation. But, deep down, you knew it bothered you.

Unconsciously, you pulled away slightly, creating a small distance between the two of you.

Jungkook noticed your this and sighed, using his strong arms and pulling you back in.

He leaned in, his lips gently brushing against the side of yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. "It's a big deal if it makes you sad, sugar," he admitted.

Still hesitant, you shrugged again, as if trying to convince both him and yourself. "I messed up at practice today," you finally admitted, your voice frustrated.

"But see, it's not a big deal. It just annoys me," you added, your agitation becoming apparent. You were trying to maintain your independence and not burden him with your struggles, but deep down, you longed for his understanding and support. For comfort.

"Yeah, I get that," Jungkook sighed, leaning his head back against the couch behind him. His eyes scanned your figure, taking in your body language. "I feel the same way sometimes when I lose fights or make mistakes. It's frustrating, but I guess there's nothing we can do about it, huh?" He chuckled lightly, playfully poking your cheek.

"You're incredibly talented, sugar," he stated, his voice sincere and encouraging. "Don't let one slip-up fuck up your mood. Everyone has their off days. It doesn't define you."

He shifted his attention to the chaotic scene of the closet, where piles of clothes were still scattered on the floor. A mischievous grin appeared on his face as he surveyed the mess. "Let's finish this, huh?"

-

"You're in a good mood, Jeon," Chan his trainer, noticed, playfully hitting his side with the boxing glove on his hand. "Finally got laid?" he joked, trying to provoke a reaction, which earned him an even harder hit from Jungkook.

"Fuck off, man. Not everything always has to be about sex," Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Wow, Jeon Jungkook not thinking about sex? What happened to you, man?" Chan couldn't help but laugh at Jungkook's response.

However, he quickly let it go, glancing down at his watch. "It's 5pm already. Do you want to do one more match, or should we call it a day?" he asked, giving Jungkook the option to decide.

A mischievous smirk spread across Jungkook's face as he pondered the question. "Let me beat you up one more time," he replied with a harsh glint in his eyes. He was eager for another round, ready to release his pent-up energy in the ring.

"Damn, just look at him" Wendy lets out a sigh, absentmindedly toying with her lipring as she fixates her gaze on Jungkook's intense fight in the ring. The way his muscles ripple beneath that shirt of his with each punch he delivers is straight-up sexy.

"I mean, seriously, he's smoking hot," another girl chimes in, unable to resist biting her lip and shooting heart-eyed glances in his direction.

Lisa, shakes her head disapprovingly and takes a sip of her soda, "Come on, guys, get real." She rolls her eyes at the infatuated girls, knowing all too well that they're letting their imaginations run wild.

"You're all living in a fantasy world," she scoffs. "Let's be honest here, he's way out of your leagues. That guy probably has biker girls lining up for him, not just groupies like you." She laughs

The girls stand stunned into silence, their jaws practically hitting the floor exchanging bewildered glances "she's such a bitch," the girls mumble in unison as they turn on their heels and walk away, clearly annoyed by Lisa's remarks.

Meanwhile, Lisa can't help but chuckle mischievously, thoroughly enjoying the reaction playfully bumping fists with her girlfriend Jihyo.

"You know, babe, I love it when you drop those truth bombs," Jihyo laughs, planting a tender kiss on lisas cheek.

As their attention returns to the scene unfolding in the ring, Lisa's curiosity gets the best of her "Hey, do you think our dear Kook has a girl hiding that he's not telling us about?"

Jihyo ponders the question, her eyes fixed on Jungkook as he throws punches. "It's definitely a possibility," she responds, shrugging nonchalantly. "I mean, he's been leaving practice early lately, and he even canceled plans with us a few times. Something's up."

Lisa nods, her intrigue growing. "Hmm, interesting. Can't blame him though. If he's that committed to her, she must be someone special—definetly a keeper."

"Alright, alright, you win," Chan spits out, visibly frustrated, as he yanks off his gloves and tosses them aside.

"Didn't you tell me not to overreact when I lose? Yet here you are, Mr. Condescending," Jungkook laughs sarcastically.

He takes a swig of water, relishing in the victory. Disregarding the empty bottle, he casually tosses it into the nearby trash can.

"Fuck ofd" chan rolls his eyes

"Hey, I'm just keeping you on your toes," Jungkook retorts playfully

Chan stares at him, growling something as he walks towards the changing rooms, slamming the door leaving Jungkook behind, a smirk playing on his lips.

Spotting his friend Namjoon nearby, he can't resist extending a victorious fistbump. "Man, winning against our coach? Good job, man!" Namjoon chuckles, the amusement between them evident.

"Fuck yeah, m really showed him who's boss," Jungkook replies, giving Joon a nudge

Casually reaching into his pocket, Jungkook pulls out a cigarette and lights it up with a flick of his lighter. He takes a drag, exhaling a plume of smoke, and then looks at Joon with a raised eyebrow. "You smoking?" he asks, nodding towards the exit inviting him for a quick smoke break.

Joon shakes his head, a hint of resignation in his expression. "Nah, man. I quit. You know how Jinny always bugs me about it," he replies, shrugging his shoulders. He glances at the cigarette dangling between Jungkook's fingers.

"Fair enough," Jungkook responds, taking another drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash away.

As Joon starts to walk away, he rememberes something, prompting him to halt in his tracks "Hey, by the way," he interjects, his voice calm. "When were you planning to let me in on the secret that you've got a girl at home?"

Jungkook's eyes widen, caught off guard by Joon's question. "How'd you dind out?" he asks, his tone filled with curiosity.

Joon smirks, raising an eyebrow "Saw a text message from 'sugar' on your phone earlier," he says.

Jungkook's surprise transforms into a faint smile, a hint of a smile breaking through his tough exterior. "Well, you caught me," he admits.

"As long as you're happy, man," Joon adds, his tone softening. "You seem calmer lately. Must be good for you."

"Mh" Jungkook hums taking another drag

"Gotta go now, see you tomorrow," Jungkook says casually, walking over to his bike and putting on his helmet.

Unbeknownst to him, Wendy and Irene, overhear his words and exchange mischievous glances.

"Did you hear that?" Wendy gasps, her eyes widening with excitement. "A girl? Jeon Jungkook's got a girlfriend!" Her voice is filled with surprise and a hint of jealousy.

"No way," Irene scoffs, crossing her arms and smirking. "Must be some girl for Jungkook to actually commit." She takes a final puff of her cigarette, casually blowing the smoke into the air.

"Right? Seriously, though, which girl hasn't he fucked?" Wendy scoffs, dramatically rolling her eyes. Irene, unfazed, simply shrugs saying "you" earning herself a playful punch in the ribs from Wendy.

"Not yet," Wendy grins mischievously. "Trust me, he'll give in eventually. Girlfriend or not, mark my words." She smirks confidently, swiping her friend's cigarette and taking a drag for herself.

"Okay, whatever," Irene sighs, her eyes rolling in annoyance. "I've got to go pick up my little sis from ballet class now. Catch you later, loser."

-

"One, two, three One, two, three" Mrs. Chuu's voice fills the dance studio, her words sounding over the music. She stands at the front, conducting the ballet class with a keen eye. "Amazing, girls, Keep it up!" she encourages.

Moving carefully, she begins to make her way around the room, inspecting each girl's posture and offering corrections.

"Joy, straighten up, my dear," Mrs. Chuu advises gently, her voice carrying a tone of guidance.

Turning her attention to Mina, Mrs. Chuu raises her voice slightly to be heard over the music. "Not too fast, Mina," she advises.

As Mrs. Chuu walks by Sana, she notices a slight tension in the girl's expression. "Watch your facial expression, Sana," she reminds her.

Then, Mrs. Chuu's gaze falls upon you, "Y/n." Her experienced eyes scan your form from head to toe, evaluating your progress. "You're doing good," she remarks, her words accompanied by a warm smile.

-

Slipping off your worn-out ballet shoes, you let out a heavy sigh, relieved that today's ballet practice was a group session rather than an intense solo session with Mrs. Chuu. Although the pressure seemed somewhat alleviated during group rehearsals, you couldn't deny the exhaustion that rushes through your body.

As you gather your breath, a friendly voice interrupts your thoughts. "Hey, Y/n, can I borrow a pen?" It's Joy, a girl from your class who was around the same age as you.

You respond with a nod, returning her smile. "Sure, Here you go," you say, retrieving a pen from your bag and handing it over.

Taking a moment to catch your breath and stretch your tired muscles, you look at yourself in the mirror, checking your hair and makeup, you were seeing Jungkook after this after all.

A few more moments pass and there's only you and Joy left in the studio, you give her a small smile and type on your phone while she does the same

You: I'm done with practise now, beach later?☺️

Today 6pm

Kookie🩷: can't, im a bit far

Today 6pm

You frown "oh" pouting you type an okay, turning off your phone and gathering your things to head home.

As you lift your gaze, ready to head out, you nearly let out a surprised scream when you spot Jungkook casually leaning against the door of the studio, as if he owns the place.

Your eyes dart towards Joy, still engrossed in her phone, oblivious to the presence of the leather-clad man standing at the entrance.

With wide eyes and a racing heart, you quickly make your way towards the door, feeling a surge of panic.

Without uttering a single word, you grab Jungkook's wrist and guide him into the nearby janitor's room for more privacy and safety from any prying eyes.

"What are you doing here, Jungkook?" you whisper with concern, "You're practically begging to get me into trouble at this point," you add

Jungkook smirks in response, his gaze fixed on you. "Chill, sugar. No one saw me," he reassures leaning in, his intention clear as he moves in for a kiss, but you instinctively stop him, your hand placed firmly against his chest.

"Yet," you scoff, a note of panic creeping into your voice. "No one saw you yet," you repeat, emphasizing the word 'yet'.

Jungkook's smirk fades slightly, "Okay, okay," his tone shifts to a more serious one. "I'll be more careful. I didn't mean to worry you," his voice softened.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you glance at the door, "We should go back before someone notices," you suggest, grabbing his wrist

"Sugar," Jungkook stops you, tilting his head with a raised brow. "Did I ever tell you that you look cute when you're upset?" His comment manages to both annoy and make you blush.

As he tilts your chin up, his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, causing your pout to fade away almost instantly. It's hard to stay mad at him for too long.

But reality quickly sets back in, and you regain your serious tone. "We really have to leave," you insist, taking his hand once again, ready to make an exit.

However, he stops you in your tracks with a tilded head

A smirk plays on Jungkook's lips as he raises an eyebrow suggestively. "ever made out in a janitor's closet?" He steps closer, pulling you towards him,

You can't help but blush at his question, a mixture of surprise and curiosity bubbling inside you.

His boldness always catches you off guard. But as tempting as the idea sounds, you try to maintain your compostire, aware of the potential consequences. "Jungkook, we can't just-"

Before you can finish your sentence, his lips find yours once again, interrupting your protests with a kiss. In that moment, all rationality drifsts away as desire takes over.

Eventually, the need for air pulls you both back to reality, as you catch your breath, a small smirk tugs at the corners of Jungkook's lips. "See? Sometimes it's worth taking a little risk," he whispers with satisfaction.

"You're impossible," you mutter, unable to hide the smile on your face.

Irene's heels echoed through the studio, the sharp clacking sounds against the polished marble floor. She nonchalantly popped a gum bubble, her eyes scanning the various rooms in search of the right one. Spotting her sister, Joy, engrossed in her phone, Irene let out a small sigh.

"Yo, sis! Let's bounce. I've got a dick appointment lined up once I drop you off," she muttered, jingling the keys in her hand and waiting for her sister to join her.

Joy frowned, tucking her phone into her pocket and grabbing her bag. "Wait, I thought Mom was picking me up," she said, confusion on her face as she walked towards her sister.

Irene rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth curling into a sarcastic smile. "Change of plans, i guess," she replied dismissively, eyeing Joy from head to toe. "Nice tutu," she scoffed before strutting off, not bothering to wait for Joy to catch up.

Bit irene's jaw practically hits the floor when she catches sight of Jungkook strolling around the corner, hand in hand with someone whos outfit looks very familiar to her sisters.

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she quickens her pace, determined to catch up with you. With a stupid smirk, she grabs hold of Jungkook's wrists and teases, "Jungkookie, how adorable! So, you're picking up your sister too?"

Chewing her gum with a playful grin, Irene looks up at Jungkook, seemingly unfazed by his intimidating presence.

Meanwhile, your eyes meet Joy's, both of you wearing puzzled expressions, before shifting your gaze back to Irene, who still has her hand on your boyfriend's.

"You're Joy's sister?" you inquire, offering a friendly smile to Irene, hoping to clear up the tension. However, instead of a warm response, you receive a judging glare from her. "Yeah, whatever," she mutters dismissively.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed by Irene's behavior, and scans her from head to toe, taking in her shabby outfit.

"Oh? So, she's your cousin then?" Irene continues her interrogation

Quickly correcting her assumption, you speaknup with a bright smile, "No, actually, Jungkook is my boyfriend." The words slip out confidently

Irene momentarily stops chewing her gum, her eyes judging your appearance from head to toe. With a burst of laughter, she mocks, "That's the girl? Seriously? You've been leaving practice early for... her?" The sound of her laughter makes your brows furrow in confusion.

What was wrong with the way you looked?

"Irene, enough," Jungkook interrupts, his voice dripping with anger. He tightens his grip on your hand, his face agitated.

Without wasting another moment, he starts walking out, with you hand in hand, slamming the entrance door shut behind him with you.

As you step outside, the fresh air hits your face. Jungkook squeezes your hand reassuringly, breaking the silence. "Don't pay attention to her," he says, his voice soft yet determined, as if trying to shield you from Irene's hurtful words.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, you find yourself about to ask what the actual fuck just happened, but his words stop you in your tracks.

"She's one of the girls that goes to my gym, don't mind her, I've never-" he starts "I didn't have sex with her or anything" he finishes, "I promise."

You nod slowly, your lower lip involuntarily pouting as you stare at the ground. "Why was she so mean to me?" you murmur, feeling a wave of hurt wash over you.

In that moment, you release Jungkook's hand, your fingers no longer intertwined with his.

Jungkook lets out a sigh, his expression softening as he reaches up to brush away a stray strand of hair from your face. "Irene's friend has been trying to make a move on me," he explains, his voice tinged with frustration. He then cups your chin gently, lifting your gaze to meet his. "But you know I would never cheat on you, right?" he asks earnestly, his eyes searching for yours.

You take a moment to absorb his words, looking into his eyes. "Of course I know that, Kookie. I trust you completely. It was just... very sudden." Your words are laced with irritation, as you remind yourself that Irene's words should mean anything to you

Feeling a sense of relief, Jungkook pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he always did. "Shes a mean girl" he murmurs, his voice filled with spite. "I'm sorry you had to go throug that, that's the reason I don't... I don't mention you around the gym, the poeple there... they can be harsh" he admits poking your rib to cheer you up.

"Please, don't ever think I'm damn embarrassed of you or anything like that," Jungkook says, his voice filled with sincerity. He steps back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, his gaze unwavering. "You're my girl, and I'm gonna do whatever it takes to keep you safe and sound."

His words wash over you, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you take in the sincerity behind his words. The weight on your shoulders seems to lighten just likebthat.

Wrapping your arms around Jungkook, you lean into his embrace, resting your head against his chest. "I know"

SERIES MASTERPOST

@kooliv @sexymenandcuteanimals101 @tatyhend @idontevenknow75 @dunixxd @saweetspoiled @codeinebelle @telepathytae @faepurity @koobsessed @jooniesxbby @bebejungkook @sxtaep @janedukiesworld @outro-kook @grasstrainerjoonie @ziko @jungshook7 @zerocge @dodoneck @beahonomo @jiimtaee @nervoustyphoonpersona @fan-ati--c @koobsessed @nucleo-bang-tan @sincerelyflora @lil-sracha @sweetonkookieandtae @exactlygreatcoffee @hoseokteardrop @aeonianamour @chaelvrx @genkima @gamer-carat @seokjinspinkslipper @kelsyx33 @loveejkk

More Than Anyone Pt. 5

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: The fate of the realm lies in their hands. Everyone must choose a side.

18+ ONLY, Targest, mentions of sex, birth and character death.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Aegon dreams of a boy that night, a little babe with dark hair and his eyes. In his children he saw Y/N, but he also saw himself. Aegon hates himself, and only in the beauty of their shared features did he find acceptance and love for tiny bits of him.

This child is Y/N’s through and through. His sweet girl wants to name him Aegon. After the man she so dearly loves. Aegon hasn’t the heart to tell her that she’s wrong. He isn’t worth anything, he never was and he never will be, because he is Aegon. Not a Conqueror, not a King, just a man forever in her debt.

Y/N made him whole, the closest he’s ever been to it. Though he cried himself to sleep, face buried in her neck, Aegon knows he is safe to do so. For he is unconditionally loved.

“Aegon.”

Y/N’s voice is wrong, pinched with the heaviness of tears and distress. It does not match the joy on the face of the woman he dreams of.

“Aegon, please wake up.”

He does. Disoriented and dizzy at the sight of her, fully dressed. The sun has not yet risen but the flame of their bedside candle is lit, Y/N’s face glistening with tears.

“Sweetheart.” Aegon murmurs, voice rough with sleep. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “What’s happened?”

Her brows pull together, bottom lip quivering as she attempts to force the words out.

“Do not cry.” Aegon pleads, moving to sit, catching her face in his hands.

“I am frightened.”

“Why, my dearest love? Tell me why.” His eyes search her face for any indication.

“Because I am a bastard.” She chokes out, lungs taut; fighting against the air she’s forcing into them. “And a bastard cannot sit the Iron Throne.”

The throne? What of Rhaenyra? “Why would you say such things? Laenor Velaryon was your father, Rhaenyra is your mother. Corlys and Rhaenys are proud to have you as a member of their house. Sure as Viserys is your grandsire. You are my wife, my future Queen.”

Y/N shakes her head, “they will demand you take it.”

“No one will demand a thing.”

“Aegon, please,” she sobs, “you don’t understand. Viserys is dead.”

“My father?” Aegon springs to his feet.

Y/N nods, desperately clinging to his hand. “I’m so sorry, Aegon.”

The Prince blinks at her, is this real? Is any of this real? “Does everyone know?”

“I don’t believe anyone knows, aside from my family and a few maids.”

His heart is beating too fast. “Where is your mother?”

“She is-” Y/N breaks off. “She has begun her labors but…it’s too soon. The Maesters cannot say what will happen.”

“Rhaenyra is strong as she is stubborn. She will come out the other side of this.”

“And if she does not?”

Aegon draws his wife into his arms, “then you shall be our Queen. Knowing it is your rightful place, you were born to be Queen. My Queen, who I swear fealty to. Whom I will not usurp, nor betray, by anyone’s will. Not my mother, not my grandsire; even Aemond cannot sway me. I kneel to you freely and above all others.”

“Are you certain that is your desire?” Y/N swipes the back of her hand over her face, attempting to dry it.

“You are my desire. Your continued happiness and peace. To stand forever at your side.” His palm finds her belly. “I will defend you and our children, from any threat. Naysayers will be put to the sword. And so help me; any man who dares calls you a bastard, any man who so much as suggests that you are illegitimate shall be sent to the wall.”

Y/N nods. “Thank you.”

“My father loved Rhaenyra, he loved you. This line of succession was his wish and in that he never faltered.”

“You were his son, Aegon.”

“I have made my peace with this, Y/N. For all he was my father, he did not like me. He did not want me.” Aegon says with finality.

“That is not your fault.” Y/N clings to him. I like you. I love you. I want you.

“It matters not. For now, we wait for word of your mother’s condition; then we determine a course of action.” It is rare for Aegon to take charge in these affairs, but she needs him now. To be efficient, to be leveled, to be kind.

————————————————————————-

Rhaenyra’s cries echo through the corridors of the Red Keep. Her three eldest children lying in wait, just outside her chambers.

“It’s taking too long.” Luce shakes his head, dark hair bouncing as he does.

“Be patient, brother.” Y/N passes a hand over his curls, “these things take time.”

“All is well,” Jace assures him, though he is not sure himself. Pacing the floor as the noise intensifies.

“Get out!” Rhaenyra roars, to whom the children cannot say.

“She should not be in so much pain.” Lucerys pulls away from his sister. He loves her, but in this moment it is his mother he wants.

There is another howl, a wail, and silence.

Y/N presses her ear to the door, waiting, hoping, praying for the babe to cry.

“I’m going in,” Jacaerys moves her aside, swinging open the door.

“Mother,” Luce rushes past them both.

“I am well,” Rhaenyra pants, exhausted from her efforts. “All is well, sweet boy.”

“Thank the gods.” Y/N breathes.

“You’ve a little sister.” Rhaenyra informs them.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Jace smiles. Moving to kneel beside Luce on either side of their mother.

Y/N inches in, peering down at infant. She does not cry, her eyes wide and searching. She is so tiny, but she is, “beautiful. She’s beautiful.”

“Visenya,” Rhaenyra tells her.

“Healthy?” Y/N makes no other move toward her.

Rhaenyra looks up from the babe to smile at her daughter, “I believe so. In any event, she will not bite, come closer.”

Y/N hesitates.

“Come,” Rhaenyra insists.

The Princess obeys, closing the distance between them to slip in between her brothers. The infant kicks her little legs, sucking a fist into her mouth.

“Would you like to hold her?” Rhaenyra asks.

————————————————————————

“Behind you!” Rhaena points just beyond the children’s heads. Joffrey, Aegon III, Viserys II are gathered with Visera, Dahlia and Laenor in the children’s chambers. “A big scary dragon!”

The children squeal as Aegon II flaps his arms, chasing them about.

The adults in the room know that this is hardly a time for games or laughter. The fate of the realms hangs in the balance of these next hours. But somethings are not for children’s ears and so they shield them, at any cost.

“Save me, Baela.” Visera tugs at her Aunt’s dress.

“I’ve got you, Princess.” The woman takes the girl into her arms. “We’ll need a weapon.”

Joffrey tosses over a pillow, “get him, Baela! Get the dragon.”

Laenor catches his father’s leg, wrapping around as if to scale him. Seated at his foot.

“What are you doing, Laenor?” Aegon chuckles at his son.

“Papa.”

“No, Laenor. Papa is a big scary dragon.” Dahlia giggles, peeking out from behind the arm chair.

The little boy only holds him tighter.

“Now I have a baby dragon.” Aegon reaches down, taking his son into his arms. Continuing to chase Viserys as he toddles after his brothers. Screaming as they scramble with huge grins on their faces.

When Aegon finally claims a victim, it is Joff, tickling him into submission.

“Behold,” Aegon chuckles, “my opponent sues for mercy.”

The door opens then, the Maester stepping inside. “Prince Aegon, if I may have a word.”

Aegon swallows, prying himself away from the children with a forced grin. The news must be grim.

The men step out into the hallway, Aegon closing the door behind him. “Well?”

“By the request of Prince Daemon we have examined the contents consumed by the Princess Rhaenyra at your last supper. Her cup did contain remnants of moon tea, seemly enough to force her body into labor.”

“That is awful,” Aegon frowns, lost for words.

“His grace is looking into the matter.” The Maester assures him. “I rush this message to you, in hopes of sparing Princess Y/N from a similar fate. Until we can determine the culprit of this heinous act, her intake must be closely monitored.”

“Of course, thank you.”

————————————————————————

Visenya clutches Lucerys’ finger in hand, swaying gently in her eldest brother’s arms.

“Soon you will have two more little ones to play with.” Jacaerys tells his sister, fair haired as her father and mother.

“Two?” Y/N quirks a brow.

Rhaenyra is resting on her bed, just a few feet away. Watching her children with a tired smile.

“Yours…and mine.”

Y/N blinks at him. “Baela is with child?”

Jace nods, “the Maester confirmed it.”

Luce nudges his brother, lightly, in congratulations.

“I’m very happy for you.” Y/N beams, they have wanted a child for sometime.

Rhaenyra’s light snores greet their ears.

“We should leave her to rest.”

“Will you have the nurse sent in? I believe Visenya is hungry.” Lucerys says, as Y/N rises to her feet.

“Of course,” She nods. Her brothers are men now, soon to have families of their own. When had childhood fleeted them?

The Princess hails her mother’s nurse before returning to Aegon and her brother’s wives with the good news. Only her husband is missing from the children’s rooms.

“Where is Aegon?” Y/N wonders, greeting her children as they come.

“We thought he’d gone to find you.” Rhaena’s brows furrow.

Series Taglist: @sophiexoxosblog @alicentswife @f4ll-for-you @tempt-ress @percyjacksonspeen @zoleea-exultant @midnightrqin @buckystevelove @httpjiikook @neenieweenie @springholland @zeennnnnnn @yelenabeleovapocket @nejiho3 @thatkindofgurl @aemondsb1tch @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

My 2nd week as a senior high school student and all I can say is that I'm stressed af..

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Tinder is not a great place to look for boyfriends, but neither is the workplace.

Gavi x Physiotherapist! reader. Slow burn. I can't make things fast he's gotta work for it. Smut? Not in this part but maybe eventually.

A/N: Hi everyone! Not super new on Tumblr but I have never been brave enough to post a fic despite my constant maladaptive daydreaming about imaginary scenarios. The stress of being sick and not wanting to write my personal statement have lead me to actually write this and post it online. Please be nice, hope you enjoy!

Song inspo: Just Pretend - Bad omens

Writing inspo: Plot inspired by @zeegaazeegaah and their amazing Gavi x physiotherapist imagine. Other inspirational accounts will be tagged at the end.

TW: None

Word count: 4.8K

"So what do you do?"

y/n hated this question. Even being asked for nudes might be preferable to being asked about her job. y/n had been on 12 first dates since moving back to Barcelona, and without fail every one of them had been ruined by this simple question. She considered lying - she could pass as a student or a waitress or even a model (ok maybe not a model): there were literally thousands of jobs she could pretend to have. But, being the idiot hopeless romantic that she was, she decided to be honest with the man across from her. What if Thiago from Tinder was her soulmate? She didn't want to ruin it by lying.

"I'm finishing my sports medicine and physiotherapy certification, so I am working with one of the football clubs here to do practical training and gain experience."

"Oh that's cool! Which club? You can tell me, I know most of the 3rd and 4th tier Catalan clubs, so I'll probably know it even if it's really small."

Wow. Thiago from Tinder was an overachiever: he messed up before she even said which club she worked for, which was faster than every other man she had been out with in the last four months. y/n took a deep breath and resisted the urge to leave before confessing where she worked.

"I actually work at a pretty well known club... F.C Barca. I think you might of heard of it?" y/n watched this man's jaw visibly drop. His eyes got wide and lit up, like someone had told him he had just won a brand new car.

"You're a physio at Barca?? No way! That's my team! I think I would actually commit manslaughter if Pedri asked me to. So you get to see all the players every day? And Xavi! Have you ever spoken to Xavi? Do you know he won Spain their first world cup? You might be too young to remember. That's so amazing!"

y/n felt all the muscles in her head tense as she focused all her energy on not rolling her eyes. A fanboy. Typical. This was the most common response she got when she said her place of work out loud. 6 of the last 12 first dates had been major fanboys for the club, talking endlessly about how they would steal and kill and get on their knees for Barca. One had even been so bold as to ask if she had ever seen Lewandosky naked, to confirm if some measurements he had seen online were true. While the fans were annoying, the haters were even worse. 4 different dates had said they felt bad that she worked at a "dying club", throwing up football statistics, and going red in the face when she said she could not possibly care less about who had more Champion's League wins.

Then there were those that went out of their way to offend her. You would think that a man trying to get laid would have some more common sense. But that didn't stop one of her tinder matches from calling her a liar in the middle of a restaurant. He was still on his first glass of wine, leaning back cockily in his chair when he said that La Liga would never allow female physios to work with the first team because women couldn't "handle the intensity of football injuries." She should have gotten up and left when he said that, but he was 6'3 with a brand new Porsche, so she let him buy her dinner and drive her home before telling him that she genuinely hoped he never interacted with a female doctor ever again, even if it was to save his life.

The worst had been when she went out with Jose. He had invited her to a pretty expensive spot in central Barcelona. They were having an amazing conversation until the fated job question. She had downed a good amount of wine at that point, and wasn't as cynical about the reaction as she usually would be, so she spoke about her role with pride. Big mistake. He perked up, then threw his head back and laughed. He laughed so loudly it startled the waiter clearing plates from the nearby table. "21 years old and working as a physio for F.C Barca... Who did you have to sleep with to get that job, hm? Xavi? La Porte himself? Or maybe someone at the university? Regardless, you must fuck like a pornstar to have landed a job like that. Can't wait to try it first hand." y/n said some choice words about Jose and his micropenis, and promptly left, seeking to avoid assault charges that night.

The truth was that y/n was extremely talented at what she did. She grew up watching football with her father and brother, developing an interest in working in sports professionally. She worked herself half to death during high school to be accepted into a sports science program in the U.S. She interned with the college teams there, learning about sports injuries and treating them. She finished her program in three years, and despite programs across Europe fighting for her, she came back to Barcelona to finish her physiotherapy certification. She would be lying if she said it was just for her family and friends. The program in Barcelona advertised opportunities to work with F.C. Barca, her favorite football club since birth. It was a love she inherited from her father, as shown by all her childhood pictures in the Blaugrana uniform.

The program was harder than expected. She was one of 7 female first year students, and the only girl in her year that wanted to work with the first team. y/n was made aware that this might work to her advantage now that professional football was pushing for more female representation (in referees, coaching staff, and now on the medical team). The guys in her class either hated her guts or wanted to sleep with her (sometimes both) - it really was like legally blonde without the law.

In the middle of August, close to the beginning of the new season, all the applicants for the Barca placement were called into the university on a Sunday. Their professor introduced Dr. Gonzales, the head physiotherapist for the club. y/n started to sweat despite the air conditioning hitting her directly. She was terrified to even breathe wrong in the presence of this man.

"It's a pleasure to be here with you all today. Thank you for your hard work in submitting to fill the assistant physiotherapist position at F.C. Barcelona. Now, there have been rumors that we are hiring a student to fil this position because it is cheaper and we are broke, but I would like to assure you all now that it's not true."

The two boys in front of her snickered quietly, one whispering a "yeah right" to the other. Dr. Gonzalez looked up at the boys. "You two giggling in the back. You don't seem like the type we need at Camp Nou. You can leave now." Everyone in the room sat up straighter after that. Everyone was on military behavior, not wanting a wrong look or a chair squeak to blow their chance. "As many of you know, one of our strikers, Ousmane Dembélé, presents with consistent right hamstring tightness, leading to frequent injuries."

As Dr. Gonzalez turned to face the screen, y/n found enough bravery to pull out a pen and paper to take notes. The doctor continued to describe the player's condition, his playing style, and the current course of treatment being used. After speaking for 25 minutes (while facing the screen instead of the students), he turned around and addressed them. "Your project is to develop a continuous muscular therapy treatment for Dembélé in the next two days. The best and most cost effective method gets the job placement. You at the back," he pointed at y/n, "Smart choice to take notes. I advise you not to share."

Y/n drove home that evening checking her rear-view mirror every few seconds. The possibility of being followed by one of her classmates so they could steal her notes was low, but never zero, and so she did both of the locks tightly on the door. She sat at her computer and got to work right away. Truth be told, she felt like the whole assignment was kind of a trick. Dr. Gonzalez had told them the current treatment plan for Dembélé, which had obviously been working seeing as they kept using it. She made a few adjustments based on leg dominance and the anticipated excess strain of playing more minutes each game, and then she decided to facetime her friend Angelika while she made the PowerPoint look pretty.

"Good evening Dr. y/l/n, finally ready to ask for my hand in marriage? My parents always wanted me to marry into medicine." y/n rolled her eyes and smirked. She had met Angelika when she was living in the US through a Facebook group for Spanish students studying abroad. Ever since then, not a day had gone by where they hadn't spoken (except once when Angelika had dropped her phone into a pint of beer and couldn't get it fixed for three days).

"You know I'm ready when you are gorgeous, just send your ring size. What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, just scrolling on the internet trying to find clubs that are no cover for ladies tomorrow. You're still coming out with us right?" y/n looked away from her computer and looked at Angelika with the "I'm about to bail on plans look" that was all too familiar. "Y/n!! You cannot be cancelling plans with us again! You haven't been anywhere except your house and the university in like six weeks! People will start to think you're with child and in hiding."

"I didn't know I was the new virgin Mary." y/n quipped, trying to make her presentation equally professional and cute. "You're not, because that would require you being a virgin. I know it feels like it's growing back because you haven't looked in the direction of a man in centuries." y/n could only shake her head. It was not a lack of trying. "Well, I'm presenting to the Barca head physio Wednesday morning, so if you ever want a chance at seeing the inside of that locker room, you need to let me skip out on tomorrow."

Angelika sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically. "Fine, but you need to be our DD and come pick us up after. Shockingly, it's really hard to order an Uber while drunk." y/n agreed to pick the girls up from the club at the end of the night, an spent the rest of the evening chatting idlily with her friend, living vicariously through the stories she told.

The following day, y/n spent all morning refining her presentation. She spent over an hour watching videos about the Barca training facility to see if there was any equipment she had overlooked in creating her treatment plan. The day progressed as normal - cleaning, cooking, practicing her presentation, watching TV on the couch. As 1am rolled around, she still hadn't received any communication from Angelika. While she was not an inconsiderate person, Angelika did have her moments where she would completely forget about the world around her: that was when she met a man who showed interest in her. Despite being gorgeous and intelligent, Angelika, like most girls in their early twenties, suffered from a condition known as "Nothing is true about me unless an attractive man says it". y/n also suffered (mildly) from this affliction, but being surrounded by weirdos all day in university had helped substantially. She knew that if she did not leave then, she would never get any sleep, and so she grabbed her car keys and headed to the address of the club that she had been sent earlier on.

She parked several blocks away from the club, and called Angelika for a record 41st time. y/n knew she wasn't going to receive an answer, so she changed into a tight satin top and a pair of heels that she always left in her car in case of emergencies (What if Joao Felix decided to take a random trip to Barcelona and she was unprepared?). She could feel the street practically vibrating beneath her as she walked towards the club. She was let in easily - it was a Tuesday night and the establishment needed female patrons. She kept close to the bar, and asked the girls working there if they had seen her friend. Once y/n pulled up a picture of Angelika, the girls laughed to one another.

"Oh yeah, she's up in the VIP section. They've dropped like 6k on bottle service already."

y/n felt the vein in her forehead start to pop out. Of course Angelika had found herself a man that would take her to the part of the club that was the hardest to get into. Especially on the night when y/n really needed to get home. Because why wouldn't that happen? She made her way over to the VIP section, where she was promptly stopped by two large bouncers, who obviously didn't believe that she just wanted to grab her friend. While standing there deciding whether she should just make Angelika order an Uber (or have this new lover order one for her), she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was met by a very attractive man (boy? His age was hard to determine in the dark).

"Hey, do you need to get into VIP? Are you here alone? " "That's a really creepy question to ask a girl in a club." y/n yelled back over the thumping music. What were all these people doing out on a Tuesday? "No not like that. I can help you get in if you want." "I don't really want to get in, I just want to get my friend and leave." The man (boy?)'s eyes lit up. "Perfect! My tea- friend. My friend that I'm with is pretty drunk and the person that drove us is in VIP. I can't leave him by himself because he's kind of rowdy even when sober. Could you watch him while I go grab them?"

y/n didn't want to look too deeply into a good thing, but the offer felt suspicious. She scanned the boy (she had decided that he was young), looking for any indication that he could live up to his end of the bargain. She looked down at his feet, noticing the white Alexander McQueen sneakers. She decided that she could trust him, and if not, she was still in a public place, and someone would notice if she was being dragged out of a club kicking and screaming. She walked over to where the friend was and had to stifle a laugh. Another boy was sprawled across two high bar chairs, legs up and head rolled back. He was wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night and them being indoors. His white button up had the first two undone and the collar popped, like he was Pitbull in 2011. He was in a pair skinny jeans (because, as y/n discovered quickly, everyone in the world had moved on from skinny jeans except for Spanish men) and some white Dolce and Gabanna sneakers. Where were these kids getting all this money?

"Pablo! Look who I brought you! This is..." The first boy looked back at you expectantly. "y/n". "y/n! She's really great and going to take care of you while I go get Pepi so we can go home." The drunk one (now Identified as Pablo) lifted his head, and tilted the sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the girl. "Wow Angel, nice job." The first one (Angel apparently) apologized to y/n, explaining that Pablo was a "really flirty drunk" but that he was never like this sober. y/n showed Angel a picture of Angelika, and off he went back into the beast that was the club. y/n stood awkwardly by Pablo, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Suddenly, he sprung up and asked her, "so what is a pretty girl like you doing in the club by herself?"

"I'm not here to go clubbing, just picking up a friend." "You're dressed like you're going clubbing." "Right, because they wouldn't let me into the club in my scrubs." "Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." The music was starting to take a toll on y/n, the thumping rhythm giving her a splitting headache. "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises." Pablo did not take this comment well. He stood up, feeling all the blood rush to his head as he rested his weight against the bar. He pushed his glasses up his head, and looked straight at her.

This was the first opportunity y/n had to admire how gorgeous Pablo was. The glasses pushed his hair back on his head, showing off his striking eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes were wide and glassy, making him look like a teenager who had gotten drunk for the first time. For all y/n knew, that could be the case. His nose slopped downward, a subtle bump in the bridge like it had been broken before and reset. His discontent made his bottom lip poke out, and y/n suddenly was overwhelmed by the urge to treat him like a child: make him feel better with a kiss. "I'm 18, and this isn't even my first time in a club. You want to see my ID?" Pablo had gotten much closer to her than she had expected. In her 4 inch heels, y/n was looking him straight in the eyes. He was mere inches away from her face, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the anger of being called a child. She couldn't stop her gaze from flipping between his eyes to his pouting lips. 'This is normal,' she thought to herself. 'I'm overwhelmed because no man has been this close to me in a while. Even if my scumbag cheating ex was standing this close I would want to kiss him. I am simply in desperate need of affection.'

This internal monologue ended just as another club patron bumped into Pablo, causing him to lose balance. He put his arms around y/n and rested weight against her, head pressed into her shoulder. "I feel like dying. I shouldn't have drank that much." He muttered. She just held him there, scared that he would hit the floor if she shifted. "Then why did you keep drinking?" She asked. It couldn't hurt - in the state he was in, she would be surprised if he even remembered his name in the morning. "So my brain would be a little quieter." y/n's heart ached at the statement. However old the boy in her arms was, he was being burdened by something far beyond his age.

Before she could ask anything else, she was tapped on the shoulder by Angel, who signaled for her to follow out of the club. She put one of Pablo's arms around her neck and began shuffling through the crowd. Once they left the club, Pablo quickly separated from her to throw up on the side of the street. "At least he waited until he was off of you to do that," a male voice echoed from behind her. y/n turned around to see Angelika clinging to a tall brunet. "Thank you so much for carrying her out. I think I can take it from here." y/n said, trying to get Angelika to remove herself from the nice man. "It's ok, I can walk her to your car. It might be easier than you carrying her." y/n smiled apologetically, and turned around to the sound of Pablo continuing to wretch his guts out. She ran over to make sure he wasn't puking blood and didn't need medical attention. "Come on Pablo let's go." Angel said from the curb. "No no, don't rush him. Let him get it all out before he gets into my car. Otherwise he'll have to start taking the city bus to matches." y/n looked up at the new voice. He walked up and stood by Angel, glancing at his phone before looking up at his friend and the girl making sure he didn't die. "Thanks for looking after him. I hope he wasn't too bad, he's a tag aggressive." y/n stood there speechless. The man thanking her for taking care of his drunk friend was none other than Pedri Gonzalez, one of the young stars of F.C. Barca. He was an absolute magician with the ball, and quickly becoming a favorite in y/n's household. She wanted to let out a scream: jump up and down and tell him that she was a huge fan and ask for a picture. But she had her presentation tomorrow. The last thing she needed was to make a bad impression on the player by causing a scene. So she took a deep breath and insisted that it was no problem.

Pablo had finished puking out his guts by that point and stood up straight, gripping his head from the dizziness. "Alright hermano, time to go." Pedri said, turning his back to y/n, Angelika, and the main carrying her. "Wait." Pablo said rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and clumsily pulled a card from it. He turned to y/n and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him. There were shouts from his friends to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing was registering in his liquor-filled brain. "y/n think's I'm a little kid, so I just wanted to show her my ID." y/n shifted her gaze from his deep eyes to the card in his hand. She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink." Pablo said, pushing a strand of hair from y/n's face before walking (wobbling) back to his friends.

y/n could not process everything going on in her head at that moment. She turned around and faced the man holding a half-asleep Angelika. "You don't play for Barca do you?" She asked, half joking and half fearful. "No. I play for Real Sociedad. I'm Martin." "Zubimendi??" "Yeah." This was too much. y/n, 7 hours before the most important presentation of her life, was surrounded by so much football royalty it made her dizzy. Martin looked like he was going to say something else, but y/n put her finger to her lips and shushed him. "Please, not another word. Just bring her to the car."

They walked silently to y/n's tiny car, Martin helping to carefully place Angelika in the back seat. "So are you the guy she was with while ignoring my calls?" "Oh no, that was my teammate Ander. He was also kind of out of it so I offered to help her out." "Why is everyone getting drunk out of their minds on a random Tuesday in August?" y/n said in frustration, causing a laugh to erupt from Martin. "It's the last week before training for the new season starts. Not a lot of opportunities to black out after this. People like to take advantage." y/n thanked Martin and got into the driver's seat. He stopped her before she drove off. "Do you think I could maybe get your number? Just to make sure you get home safe?" y/n rolled her eyes at the lame excuse for a pick-up tactic, but surrendered her phone number anyway. She drove back to her apartment with her head reeling, as she tried to rehearse her speech in her head instead of thinking of the events of the night.

The next day, y/n looked perfect. She had work her best school-approved scrubs and coat. and slicked her hair back to make her look more professional. She was in her business attire Nikes. Her note cards were neatly written and organized. She sat in the lecture hall waiting to be called on. The students would be presenting in random order. As all the student filled in to present, the tension was palpable. Everyone side-eyed each other, trying to intimidate the "competition". The door swung open and in walked the professor, as well as Dr. Gonzalez. He stood at the front podium, stern as ever, and began to speak.

"Good morning students. Thank you all for the effort you have put into the presentations you will share today. We look forward to all you assessments and insights. As the new season quickly approaches, we want the new assistant to become acclimated to the workplace quickly. Therefore, the decision about the position will be made today following the presentation." The entire room stopped breathing. "In order to do so efficiently, please welcome our other guests and evaluators, Mr. Xavi Hernandez and Mr. Ousmane Dembélé." The pair walked in, and the room engaged in the most "I wish I was dead" sounding clapping known to man. y/n started sweating profusely. If she had known that Xavi and Dembélé were going to be watching her presentation, she would have made Angelika take the Uber. Hell, she would have made her ride a Donkey back home and gotten a full night's sleep.

Dr. Gonzalez drew names for the order, and because y/n has the worst luck, she was presenting last. She did what she does best: panicked immediately. She tried to think of ways to present the information differently than the 6 students before her had. As she listened to the presentations, the more nervous she got. None of the other students had treatment plans remotely similar to hers. Antonio, one of the smartest in their batch and the presenter right before her, even suggested he get surgery.

It was time. y/n stood up at the front of the room and pulled out her slides. "Good morning everyone. Today I will be presenting my comprehensive treatment plan for player Ousmane Dembélé's right hamstring." She got through the whole thing without stuttering or having her knees give out. As she finished her last slide, she let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She asked if their were questions and Xavi's hand went up. "So Miss y/n, the treatment plan presented is very similar to the one we have currently implemented, with a couple changes in training and every day life. What is the anticipated recovery time for this treatment?" Everyone else in the class had said 8-12 months. But no - of course y/n had to be differently. "6 weeks sir." "6 weeks? No one else has given a suggestion that would take less than half a year." "Yes sir, however, if you take into account the availability of daily therapy, cryotherapy, and the current play style and strain distribution, he can be on the field in 6 weeks. He might not be comfortable playing all 90 minutes each game, but that's not the same as being completely out for injury." Xavi nodded and said nothing more. That was the end of the questioning.

It took them 8 minutes exactly to decide who go the job. Dr. Gonzalez, Xavi, and Dembélé came back into the room, thanking everyone again for their hard work. "We are please to announce," Xavi started, "that we will be offering the assistant physiotherapist position for the 2022/2023 season to," he turned to Dembélé, who finished the thought, "Miss y/n y/l/n." All the men in the room turned to face y/n at once as she struggled to breathe from the shock. "We look forward to having you this season."

And that's how it happened. y/n was now the assistant physiotherapist for the first team at F.C. Barcelona during the day, and entertainment for the absolute worst men in Spain in the evenings. She left her disappointing first date with a headache and leftovers, and drove home listening to her "Maybe Love is a Social Construct" playlist. As she walked into her apartment, her phone chimed with a text notification. She let her hair down and grabbed her phone, preparing to update Angelika about the latest in the tragedy that was her love life. Instead, she had two separate text notifications.

[Unknown number]: Hey, is this still y/n's number?

[Gavi]: I need to see you urgently. Tomorrow morning 6:30 am. I'll be waiting outside your office.

To be continued...

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

If you got this far, thanks for reading! I have had this idea for a long time and have been writing snippets of it down. I will continue to update whenever I can, as this really is a passion project for me (so it's ok if no one reads it).

GIF credit to @gavidaily

Huge thanks to the following for heavily inspiring me to start writing this on the internet: @missgavi @kyiiansmbappe @julianalvarez9 @milawritesstuff @leeamorgan (there are a couple others I'm forgetting)

Burning Coles

(Part Eleven)

Aemond x Targaryen/Cole!Reader

Obsessive!Jace x Targaryen/Cole!Reader

@crystalrose36 @bregarc @roselibrary @tired-ninfa @cecespizza01 @bellameshipper @thatweirdchickatthecorner @greennowlfactif @hargrovehoe @aemondsdelight @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @cherry-888 @azaleapotterblack @thenovelcarnival @velvet-spider @burningshewolf @rainerax @biancathecool @thegoodthebadandtheempty @hangesprofessionalashholder @xeniarocks @lady—butterfly @scarletraine @b1gb3anz @duckworthbean @xceafh @merovingianprincess @virginslut08 @multifndom @astarborntowrite @whodis-26 @mxrgodsstuff @lovelynerdytraveler @bruhhchillll @undecidedsimp @hiatuswhore @mochimommy2002 @multitargaryen @wanderingcl0ud @a-dorkier-book-keeper @prettykinkysoul @rockerchick05 @natthedwobbit @alexandra-001 @ilovestrngrthngs @savinasavers @watermel0nsugarhigh @dee-reads-books @halleisheree @50svibes @whothehelliskayleigh @kemillfreitas @xinyourdreamsx @kaycyl @gothicgay14 @borikenlove @apocoloops

TW: Inc*st, ANGST, pining, language, toxic family stuff, Reader is cracking that Virgo energy, a bit slow in this one…

“I had read Aemond the Kinslayer to be obsessed with her. A vicious madman made only more bloodthirsty from his want of her”, said the Lionness.

“Our texts do not disagree”, the Viper smiled “Though we do not frown upon it as you do”.

The day after losing his eye, and you, Aemond woke up to a new world. A new life.

Young Prince Aemond would need to relearn many things. Such as going down stairs, pouring his own drinks, or judging the distance of a person or object. The maesters warned his mother that some skills may never come back to him.

And he may never learn to ride Vhagar.

“Without your other eye, Prince, you may have too great a difficulty to control it”, the Maester had said.

Aemond had sat in his bed. Completely silent. Completely still.

Then he just started screaming. Crying despite the way it burned his left eye to do so. His hands grabbed at whatever was available to throw, and launched it at all the maesters in his room. It took him an hour to stop lashing out at them. To stop screaming at them that they were wrong. He was meant to be Vhagar’s rider. He meant to be your defender.

How could he do that with one eye?

Aemond had calmed enough for visitors. Although he was now refusing to look at or respond to anyone. Despondent.

It broke the Queen Mother’s heart. She had tried everything to bring him out of it. To no avail. King Viserys only repeated his disappointment in him. And Lord Hightower crowed how proud he was, for taking such a great risk. But it all felt so hollow. Alicent turned to one of the few men her son seemed to respect, Ser Criston Cole.

“My Prince?”

He refused to look at him fully, but the Prince did lift his head.

“Ser Cole”

The kingsguard fought a small smile at the boy’s tone. He sounded older than his years. A boy with gauze and stitches on his face that sat in a bed that still bore the childish patterns of dragons and knights. The scar on his face, however, clashed violently with his childlike bed.

“I came to check on your healing. Are you recovering without pain, Prince?”, said Ser Cole.

Aemond snorted “If you listen to Maester Mugbrute, I am not expected to recover at all. No riding, no fighting, just a lump with a title”.

An intense sort of wrath from a young man. Ser Criston Cole looked around the room, it was still littered with thrown objects. Pillows, medicine bottles, rolls of gauze, and a broken teapot. They rolled lightly as the ship rocked in the ocean. King’s Landing was still a day or so out. The maesters should be grateful his aim was impacted.

“My Prince, losing an eye does not mean you have lost your life. I have known many capable fighters that were without an eye”, Ser Cole took a chance and came closer to the boy.

Aemond straightened his posture and turned, his puffy scar healing but cracking painfully “The maesters… they said..”.

“It will not be easy, but if it is your want, I can still train you. We will need to start from the beginning, and progress will be slow. Are you prepared to do that?”, Ser Cole put a hand to the Princeling’s shoulder.

One eye of pale lilac met two of deep brown.

“Yes, Ser Cole. I am”

The kingsguard had not lied when he said progress would be slow. Aemond had to first relearn how to ride and control a horse before he was even allowed to see Vhagar. Ser Cole had gotten quite the earful from the Queen about allowing him to do that.

“If the Prince can defeat me in a joust, he can ride a dragon”, Ser Cole had said.

Queen Alicent truly thought it would be impossible. Until three years later when she watched her son do just that in a tourney. Nearly caused her a heart attack. To see her young son out there. Aemond did not win the tourney, but he defeated four men, including Ser Cole, in jousting. He lost to Ser Cole in combat. Something that angered him greatly as he heard people in the stands laugh when he fell. His stance on not caring for tourneys was cemented by that.

Though any embarrassment was overshadowed by his mother finally walking with him to Vhagar. The bond was still strong, as he often visited her just to sit and read. And now, with his mother’s blessing and his siblings watching, he climbed onto Vhagar’s back.

“Sōvegon!”

Back in the air. With victories and losses under his belt. Prince Aemond swore that day that he would not be a man to be looked down upon. He may never become King, but he would become a man worthy of you.

And that would be enough.

————————————————————————

The Lady Viper said “I think your version of the tale wrongs the Princess most of all”.

“How so?”, the Lioness asked.

“The way things between she and her half-brother began”.

Deep down, you knew that the relationship you shared with Jacaerys transcended that of a sibling bond.

At times, you ignored the way he looked at you. All because the way he held you felt too nice. You knew it was a stupid, selfish thing. You just… there was something about being held by a man. You never felt safe being alone. Like something was missing. Being alone and without touch was like laying awake wondering if the lock on the door had been set. Or if the sound of something falling had been a book or a foot.

You were not certain why you longed for touch so desperately. It embarrassed you. And now it had you here, with Jace’s warm palms grasping your hips.

“If we are quiet, they shall have to go away”, he whispered into your ear.

Jace tipped your chin up to him. He was doing it again. Looking less like your brother and more like a man who you snuck into your room.

“Please”, he touched his forehead to yours.

He had never pushed you like this before. Only once did the two of you kiss with lips touching lips. It was normally lips to your cheek, shoulder, or back. Always framed by that silly game that would start so innocently. Or in the middle of him ruffling your hair, or teasing you in some way. Oftentimes with you not taking anything very seriously either.

And then came the night. The night that caused you to stop playing such games with him. That night where he did push you. That night where he laced his fingers with yours and kissed you deeply. You had been both acting immature. Wrestling, actually. One of you had called the other a name, a pillow was thrown. Then hands fell on limbs. You were both far too old for such roughhousing. Jace was on top of you and suddenly he stopped laughing. No force. No rush. He laid himself onto you slowly and gently.

The way he looked down at you, the light of your fireplace casting a strange glow to his face. It was one of those times where you were reminded of how little the two of you resembled one another. If a stranger had walked in on you two like that, they would have assumed you were two young lovers.

His mouth came down to yours. Warm. Soft. Deep. You shut your eyes, and his kiss was returned. And then, it suddenly felt wrong.

You stopped him. It had frightened you a bit. The way you had wanted to keep going.

And it frightened you now too. You needed to stop this. You were his elder. He followed you, in almost all things. This state he was in, it felt like you had made this in him.

All of this was your fault.

The knocking came again, harder this time. You pulled Jace’s hands from you and turned. He blinked at you, all the confidence washing away before your eyes.

“When I open this door, you are to go to the washroom until I tell you to come out, then to your room. Tonight will not be discussed further, nor will Daemon’s perverted games he has you play”, you put on your best glare.

His face flushed “Wait, please, I did not meant to… I only wanted to—-“

“I do not ask for your reasoning. We are children no longer, our choices bear weight. You or I may be named heir and you may be betrothed. This”, you pointed between yourself and he “Must stop. I am sorry for having participated”.

It was for the best. To reject him. Now.

Jace had always been such an idealist. He looked at the heroes of your family’s history and hoped to one day join them in the texts. A noble and strong Targaryen man.

So devoted to the family. And to you. Whatever he had wanted to do tonight, you would not let him. It would ruin your mother’s plans and it could hurt Baela. He may also bring on the ire of Daemon. As the Rogue Prince would likely not enjoy knowing how little Jace thought of his potential betrothal. Even if it had been Daemon that gave him advice on tempting you. Jace just didn’t seem to realize what this could do to you either.

Or did he?

He stormed into your washroom and paused only so he could close the door without slamming it. That little show of attitude had you feeling more than a little irritated. Jace just did not understand. You were not on Dragonstone anymore. People who saw him be affectionate with you, especially alone, could ruin you. And now was the worst of times for controversies.

You may like to wear flowers on your head, but there was more to you than that. Princess Rhaenyra made sure to educate you in all things political. She just had no way of knowing how you and Jace would grow.

You took a deep breath. It was not something you wanted to give thought to right now.

With some hesitation, you opened the door. It was the last person you wanted to see.

“Aemond?”

And guests, it seemed.

“Ser Westerling, Ser Cole… is something the matter?”

The three of them stood just beyond your door. Aemond had his eye focused on you, piercing through you.

“Are you alright, Princess? I thought I had seen someone following you as you came to your chambers”, his voice oozed with concern.

It almost had you. Until you caught the way his eye snuck a glance into your room. Looking for someone.

You batted your eyelashes “Following me? No, not at all”

Ser Cole shifted uncomfortably “It took you some time to answer the door, Princess. Are you well?”

Having Ser Cole address you directly was intimidating. You could still see the look on his face as he charged through the crowd towards you. His eyes wide, armor gleaming from the light of the torches.

He was older now, though he had only gained deepened wrinkles. Not much grey or signs of decline. Although, that was not what kept her staring for longer than desired.

Ser Cole, he looked… concerned. And not in the way Ser Westerling did. It was a concern that you could connect to your own mother’s face. It wasn’t supposed to be there. That look. His face.

“I am merely tired from the long trip. It has made me a bit of a sloth, I apologize”, you smiled with sweetness.

The elder kingsguard nodded “So, all is well? You are certain?”

What in the Seven Hells had Aemond said to these men? They were crowding her as if they thought… oh. Oh Gods.

“I am only concerned that you may have an unwanted set of eyes on you. A woman alone in a dark corridor”, Aemond said a bit louder than needed.

He absolutely knew who was in your room. What manner of trap was this?

“Ah!”, you clapped your hands once and beamed “You must mean my brother!”.

All three men jerked their heads back, for different reasons.

“He was escorting me to my room, then needed to use my washroom”, you took a step to the side “Jace? Are you well?”

He had the door cracked, just enough to hear.

On cue, Jace came out looking sheepish “Must you announce me? Oh, Ser Westerling! Ser Cole!…. Uncle. Has something happened?”

As he crossed the room, you stepped around him “Nothing at all, brother. Aemond was worried you were a prowler!”

By your body language, you communicated that Jace was to leave. He cast you a quick look, hurt, the recovered with a winning grin to the three men. Jace focused on Aemond, and gave his shoulder a stiff shake “Good to know our Uncle is still so protective”.

Aemond stared into his face, a cold look in his eye. The mutt had touched him. And even brushed by him. The fucking gall. He relaxed only from his belief that Jace had not intended to stay with you long. Otherwise…

Your hand took Aemond’s “Thank you for looking after me”.

Just like that, Aemond’s attention was back on you. And your brother slipped away with his shoulders hunched. The one-eyed Prince’s gaze softened “I cannot help but do so”.

The touch of your hand to his was something he had missed greatly. And you found yourself tempted to thread your fingers with his. You pulled away and laughed gently. The faintest touch of color came to his cheeks.

Ser Cole exhaled slightly too loud. The Prince’s swooning was a bit much for the man to bear.

“Hm, seems our Princess won’t be in need of a sworn protector later in life. She has a brother and uncle to watch over her! How lucky”, said Ser Westerling.

You could tell by the heaviness in his brow, Ser Westerling detected the tension. And he was trying to lessen it. His mustache and beard were whiter than you remembered. Still, he looked strong. Healthy. And only mildly irritated.

“Again, gentlemen, you have my thanks for checking in on me. Sadly I must retire. The morrow brings much to do, and I would hate for either of you to be tired on my behalf!”, that patented softness of House Targaryen’s Heart.

It brought the tension down further.

Ser Cole continued to stare at you in the way he often did. Like he was trying to make sure you did not suddenly disappear. It made something in you want to stop him as he turned and followed after Prince Aemond and Ser Westerling.

You closed and locked your door. Head teeming with thoughts. Of Jace. Of Aemond. Your mother. Luke’s succession. Lord Vaemond. And now, Ser Cole.

Slowly, you went to your cloak which hung by the door. You reached into the pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. The same one Ser Cole had pressed to your bleeding nose all those years ago. It bore the emblem of his house, which was stained still by your blood despite being washed.

Was this the answer to the question you dared not ask?

I love your works <3333

— masterlist

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

house of the dragon:

devoted to you (f) — harwin strong

endless love (f, s) — harwin strong

im yours (f) — harwin strong

missed opportunity (f) — harwin strong

false lovers (a) — harwin strong

more to come...

My school works are stressing me out 😭😭😭😭

We need more Harwin Strong x reader storiessssss

A Beast (Harwin Strong imagine)

A Beast (Harwin Strong imagine)

Pairing: Harwin Strong x female Targaryen!reader 

Requested: nope

Warnings: brief mention of offing oneself, slight misogyny if you squint, spoilers for episode 1 and 3, typical westeros bs

A/N: this is much needed happiness for what happened in the show + this was basically inspired by the preview of queen charlotte’s netflix series (bridgerton prequel) PLEASE WATCH IF YOU HAVENT. literally sent a message to @astraljedi the second i finished watching that video (she sent it to me cause i had to idea this show was even happening)

-

Despite being King Viserys first born daughter, Y/N had no intention of being a queen. Although she loved the attention, the balls, the feasts, the beautiful dresses and jewelry, and all the privileges that came with being the daughter of a king, she was not interested in ruling seven kingdoms. She found it dreadful, borderline psychotic. And sitting with the small council for hours, deciding what to do in certain situations made her feel bored. 

After Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon passed, Viserys set his eyes on Y/N. He had to find a way to keep his brother Daemon from the throne, therefore he decided his daughter would be the heir and would sit on the Iron Throne after he passed. Y/N knew he was planning this. Nobody had told her, but she did notice her father giving her looks while someone brought up there were no male heirs, citing that the Realm has been in twenty-one years of uncertainty and doubt.

“Your Grace,” a Kingsguard called, looking rather pale like he was about to faint. “Princess Y/N has requested your presence.”

Viserys looked perplexed for a second before making his way out of the room. Otto Hightower, however, was deeply annoyed. He still did not understand how the princess could order her father around.

Inside her bedchamber, Y/N sat on her desk. It was filled with history books, papers, and pens scattered all around. The door opened, revealing her father. He quickly smiled when he saw what she was doing. Y/N always showed a fascination for history.

“You called?” He cheekily asked, taking a seat next to her. His eyes scanned the table, she was reading about past kings.

“Yes. I thought about going to you but I am too tired to walk,” Y/N confessed.

“So you make me walk here?” Viserys faked a surprised face, Y/N always had the same excuse.

“I just wanted to speak to you privately,” she explained.

“Well then, speak,” Viserys softly urged her.

“I do not want to be queen.”

The air felt tense immediately at her confession. The king did not know what to answer, his mouth opening to refute her terrible idea but no words came out.

“I am not fit to rule. It is simply not me. Father, I know you have had this on your mind since you exiled uncle Daemon but I cannot accept the responsibility of being your heir.”

“My sweet girl, have you always felt this way?” He asked with concern, grabbing her hand, while she nodded. “Why did you keep this to yourself?”

“I did not want to anger you… and I also did not want you to be disappointed. Even if you keep it to yourself, I know you feel disappointed that Rhaenyra and I are not boys.”

“No no, you misjudged me. I love you and your sister. Yes, me having a son would relieve you from this burden but that does not mean I feel disappointed about my daughters. You and Rhaenyra are my biggest blessings and I will always thank your mother for giving me two amazing daughters.”

Y/N sniffled, this was the first real conversation that they had since the funeral. Her father’s words felt genuine. Viserys always made sure to be present in their lives, to show them love and affection.

“However; what am I supposed to do now t-”

“Rhaenyra can be your heir,” Y/N declared.

Viserys eyebrows rose with curiosity. “Rhaenyra? Has she spoken to you about this?”

“Honestly, no, she has not. But father, she can rule the kingdoms. Even if she does not participate, she learns from being in the small council meetings. Talk to her. She deserves being on the Iron Throne.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Viserys stood up to hug her. Y/N buried her face in his chest, feeling grateful that her father understood and did not argue about her decision.

-

They had decided to do a hunt to celebrate Aegon’s second nameday.

Y/N sat with the other ladies while she ate some sweet treats. It was mindless chatter, Alicent tried to include her in the conversation but Y/N only gave short answers to whatever they were asking about. Rhaenyra was nowhere in sight, which aggravated Y/N. Where could she possibly be? 

With nothing else to do, Y/N excused herself and left the tent. The thought of going to sleep for the rest of the day sounded blissful.

“Pardon me, Princess?” A man interrupted her thoughts. “My name is Theodore Tyrell.”

Y/N smiled politely as he handed her a fruit bowl. “I gathered that from the rose on your chest. Thank you.”

“I do not think we've been properly introduced. I never found the correct opportunity to speak with you privately.”

“Oh,” Y/N awkwardly smiled. “Here I am. A pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

“Have you ever been to Highgarden?” Theodore asked.

“Twice, yet I am too young to remember,” Y/N replied, a feeling of dread filling her heart.

“You would love it. Highgarden is filled with flowers all around. Beautiful roses climbing up walls. The sights of the roseroad and the ocean road are simply breathtaking. However, we do not have a dragonpit…”

“Why, if I may ask, do you need a dragonpit?” Y/N hissed, pushing the bowl of fruits into his hands before the anger got the best of her.

“To house dragons, of course,” he replied with a condescending tone.

Y/N turned around and stormed into the tent, marching toward her father. “Oh, sweetheart, I was just about to call for you.” Viserys' smile dropped when he realized his daughter was seething with anger. “Are you alright?”

“Lord Tyrell? That is your best choice?” Y/N barked at him. “That man could be my grandfather.”

“You are of age, Y/N. Three-and-twenty, it is time for you to marry. It has been for a while.”

“That man? I would rather throw myself from the highest tower at the Red Keep before marrying him.” Viserys' eyes widened at her threat.

“Enough! I have been trying to speak about this with you since you became of age and all you have given me have been excuses. You must marry! It is your duty, especially now that your sister is the heir.” Viserys exclaimed, capturing the attention of everyone in the tent. People were staring, some of them murmuring about the conversation between the King and his daughter. “You and your sister will marry, whether you both like it or not. That is not up for discussion.”

Princess Y/N was quietly crying out of anger and frustration. Deep down in her heart, she knew her father was right, she needed to marry. Viserys went silent, mentally scolding himself for upsetting his precious daughter.

After their heated conversation, Y/N retired to her tent for the day, stating she was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. 

-

Hours later, after the king had sunk into his cups, Lord Strong decided to try his luck.

“Excuse me, Your Grace.” Lyonel stood in front of the King, at the bottom of the steps. “Can we speak for a moment?”

Viserys sighed. “Should I guess? You believe that your son, Ser Harwin “Breakbones”, the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms, is the best match for Y/N.”

Lyonel cleared his throat. “Yes sir, I believe so. My son, from what I have noticed, could be the only one that can deal with the princess. He is heir to Harrenhall, his strength and knowledge of battle will keep the princess protected. And the area is big enough to build a dragonpit.”

“Are you sure about this? Do you think my daughter will agree to this arrangement?” Viserys was unsure. Surely his daughter would not like this at all. 

“Perhaps she will try and fight it, Your Grace. They should at least meet and have a conversation, maybe that will help. We should not just send them off to wed immediately. My son would not like that either.”

Viserys hummed. “After we return to king’s Landing, I will talk to her. I suggest you do the same with your son.”

-

Days later, in the Red Keep, Y/N was actively ignoring her father. She was still hurt about how their conversation played out. She ate all her meals in her bedchamber, only leaving when she knew her father was in a small council meeting. Alicent also made attempts to get them to talk but Y/N was not interested.

During the night, she felt relaxed to go out and sneak some food from the kitchens and new books, when she was intercepted by the King.

“Y/N!” He yelled, startling her. “You cannot keep doing this. We must talk.”

She shook her head and walked faster to her chamber, but he was close behind. Y/N could not close the door before he got inside. “Father, please, leave me alone.”

“No! I am sick of this, Y/N. You will not keep avoiding me,” Viserys raged. She sighed, sitting on her bed in defeat. “You will marry, I have found you a suitor.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, only for Viserys to raise his hand to make her stop.

“This is not up for discussion. You will meet him tomorrow night.”

“Who is he?” She asked and Viserys turned around to leave. “Father! Who is he? What is his name!” 

The king had left. Y/N yelled in frustration, she hated not knowing.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, Lyonel was about to speak with Harwin. “Son, do you have a moment?”

“Of course, father. What is it?” Harwin put down the paper he was reading to focus on Lyonel.

“You are to be wed.” He blurted out. Harwin felt the air being sucked out of him. “I spoke with the king during the hunt. You are to marry princess Y/N.”

“What? The king agreed to your proposal?” He was stunned. “What did princess Y/N say?”

“She, uh… she does not know you are the suitor,” Lyonel confessed. “We think it is better like this.”

“Father, that is absurd. She must be losing her mind at the uncertainty, you know that.”

Lyonel sighed. “I know, son. As I said, you will meet her tomorrow night. The king is already planning a feast in honor of this union.” 

Harwin did not know what to think. He had not met Y/N, only saw her from a distance during the hunt. He was captivated by her beauty. He could only hope Y/N was not too upset when she found out it was him.

-

The following morning, Y/N was speaking with Rhaenyra while they ate breakfast together.

“Sister, you have to forgive father eventually,” Rhaenyra reminded her while taking a bite out of an apple.

“I know,” Y/N exhaled. “I just… I just feel that he does not care about my opinion on the matter.”

“If that were the case, you would be in Highgarden right now.”

Y/N gave her a look. “I suppose you are right. Have you heard anything about this mysterious suitor?”

“No, I am afraid I have not,” Rhaenyra confessed. “Father has been very secretive since we came back from the hunt.” Y/N covered her face with her hands, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Perhaps you will like him, he could be very handsome.”

“Or he could be a beast,” Y/N contradicted.

-

Nobody in the castle talked about the suitor. The princess has not heard not even a whisper about him. It frightened her immensely. 

The hours moved quickly and it was time for them to meet. Viserys had arranged the small hall for this. Almost everything was going according to plan, but they did not know what the princess was up to in the gardens.

Y/N was currently trying to climb up a wall using flower branches. She planned to climb up, run from the castle, and come back the following morning. It sounded easy in her head, but now that it had to be executed, Y/N found it was not so simple. On the other hand, Harwin was on his way to the hall when he saw someone with silver locks trying to escape. He chuckled, walking up to stand under an arch.

“Hello, my lady. Are you in need of any assistance?” Harwin asked, holding his hands behind his back.

“I am quite fine, thank you. You can go back inside and do whatever,” she dismissed him.

“I will. But I am curious… What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she answered.

“You are doing something,” Harwin observed.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

Y/N got down from the branch, staring at the wall. “If you must know, I am trying to ascertain the best to climb over this garden wall.” She put her hands on her hips.

“Climb? Whatever for?” Harwin wondered with an amused expression.

“I think he may be a beast.”

“A beast?” He answered in surprise. “Who are we discussing?

“That is none of your business.” The princess slightly turned to say this to him before focusing her attention on the wall, causing Harwin to take a sharp breath to calm himself. “My suitor,” he smirked. “No one will speak of him with me. He is clearly a beast.”

“Understood,” Harwin nodded.

“If I grab here, perhaps you can assist me by lifting me up,” Y/N moved her hand to get his attention, then proceeded to climb up the branches again. 

“You do not like beasts? What he looks like matters?” Harwin wondered.

“I do not care what he looks like. What I do not like is not knowing.” Harwin was right then, he told his father this. “Now, here. Just hold here, with a lift I believe I can climb up the garden wall.”

“You want me to lift you over so you may escape?” Harwin repeated what she requested, still feeling amused. “People will notice you are missing.”

“I will worry about that later. Now, please make haste.”

“I have absolutely no intention of helping you.”

Y/N got down and walked towards him. “I am a lady in distress. You refuse to help a lady in distress?”

“I refuse when that lady in distress is trying to go over a wall so she does not have to marry me.”

Y/N was stunned. “You? You are the man I am supposed to marry?” Her cheeks were red in embarrassment.

“I am deeply sorry if I look like a beast, princess,” Harwin teased. “I would have thought the same if I had not known it was you.”

“You,” she cleared her throat, “who are you?”

“Ser Harwin Strong,” he introduced himself while grabbing her hand to kiss it.

“Lord Strong’s son?” Y/N questioned with confusion.

“So you have heard about me,” Harwin smirked.

“If I am honest, only your name.” Y/N’s cheeks were even more flushed if that was possible. “I, umm… I will see you inside. Excuse me, Ser.”

Y/N almost ran, wanting to be away from him as soon as possible. Harwin, however, was faster. He grabbed her arm to make her stop and turn to him, bringing her close to his body. “Wait, princess.”

“This is not proper,” she stuttered.

“Neither is you trying to escape,” Harwin noted. Y/N failed to get out of his grip once again, his hold was tight but not enough to hurt.

“What must I do for you to let me go?” Y/N pouted.

“Just have a conversation with me before we go to the hall, so you can see I am not the beast you thought of,” he proposed. Y/N huffed in defeat, but deep down she was intrigued by him.

“Lead the way, Ser Harwin.”

//

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