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sunboki · 1 year

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— WHEN THINGS WERE SIMPLE a Lee Minho fiction

⭐️ : Lee Minho(Leeknow) x fem. reader

TROPE. school romance, 90’s romance, bestfriends to lovers, online au, strangers to lovers, highschool au, small town au

WORD COUNT. 7.7k ☆ 37 minute read

WARNINGS. light cursing, deep conversation, two teenagers being madly in love(lmao), bankruptcy, anonymous online chatting between strangers — this is in no way recommending anyone to join anonymous chat rooms nor meet up with strangers irl!

AUG'S NOTES. this fic was heavily inspired by “Twenty Five Twenty One” (one of my favorite kdrama!!) and was based around the 90’s when today’s technology was just beginning, i hope you find this piece to your satisfaction! if so, please leave some feedback, thanks :)

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Lee Minho, the newest resident in your small town, has already established a reputation as the Class President despite moving only a week ago. You, on the other hand, don’t really see the appeal, or maybe your schedule is too jam-packed to consider the prospect of boys. In the meantime, you join an anonymous chat room with this so-called "lino98," and eventually, the stranger recommends that you meet holding a yellow tulip and wait- is that who you think it is?

or alternatively :

Whoever you’ve been talking to in that chat room was definitely not who you thought would be standing in Marronnier Park with a yellow tulip in hand.

1999.

“Hey! The sign says no throwing!” You scold, rushing to fix the arm to the statue as the tires on the boy’s bike screech to a halt.

And suddenly, it feels like everything’s in slow motion when the perfectly kept head of brown hair swivels back to face you, sharp jawline and piercing eyes belonging to a model-looking stranger you’d never seen before.

Thursday morning was when you first met Minho. Although, you didn’t know his name then, nor that this interaction－the daily magazine breaking your statue’s arm－would change your life.

His expression drops, looking rather bored despite your obviously frazzled (and flustered) state.

“How much?” The bewilderingly attractive boy asks, and it takes you a moment to register what he said, repeatedly glancing from the statue back to him like he was speaking a foreign language.

“It’s.. It’s priceless.” You huff, regarding the stranger with a hard glare as if he’d broken some holy vase or something.

He didn’t.

In fact, the only reason you felt so worked up was because once your parents saw the statue, you’d be grounded in an instant. You, on the other hand, could care less about the stupid piece of marble.

Something about his gaze sets you off, not to mention when he flashes a cheeky grin screaming nothing but trouble.

“Is that so? Then I guess it’s especially priceless now, huh.” He shrugged, kicking the kickstand up and hiking his leg over the seat.

You freeze in your spot, equally stunned with both shock and confusion.

Huh? Where is he going.

Is this guy serious!?

“What’re you- hold on- you can’t just leave!” Racing after him while he positively sped ahead of you on bike, you endlessly shout, slowing down to a halt after a few minutes to watch his silhouette disappear below the winding road traveling down to the village.

Hunched over to catch your breath, you mumble silent curses, dragging heavy footsteps up the small arrangement of stairs to try hiding the broken part behind the statue the best you can.

Brushing off your clothes and adjusting the straps to your bag, you start down the same way he left, stomping and groveling in your misery similar to that of a child denied their favorite toy. It’s quite a sight.

Tomorrow, you’ll give that attractive-Mail-Boy-whose-name-unknown a piece of your mind. You’re sure of it.

Entering the classroom, the first thing piquing your ears wasn’t Soyeon and Hyomin’s daily bickering match about the most random topics (the two you and Yuqi are certain are going to marry one day), but hushed whispering amongst each other.

So, accepting your role as a certified nosy person, you crouch across Yuqi’s desk, craning to make out her way-too-fast-to-be-normal conversation with Rei.

“Psst, Rei, what’s going on?” Blabbering on about whatever the school had been gossiping about, the girl swiftly turned to you, face alight with excitement.

“Have you seen the new guy? He’s an actor, I’m sure of it!”

…Of course. You should’ve known.

Nothing would have Taeyang High School falling over itself faster than a new handsome face.

How disappointing.

Not that you don’t appreciate a good looking person when you see one, but seriously, it could’ve been the upcoming volume of Full House or a class barbecue, something you deemed much more swoon worthy than a boy.

Yet, the transfer student who opened the door mere seconds later looked eerily familiar.

The Mail boy who mutilated your statue this morning is standing there, or are your eyes playing tricks on you? Maybe you’re sleeping at home and this is all a dream. Please be a dream please be a dream please be a dream- Ow!

Pinching yourself did hurt , you were awake, and it was Mail Boy at the front of the class introducing himself.

This week was already off to a great start.

Snapping out of your nightmare to notice him walking in your direction past giggling, lovestruck students to find a seat, you frantically shield either side of your face with your hands. Behind you, Han Jisung, your second best friend to Yuqi, cocks a brow as the boy fortunately takes a seat two rows ahead of you.

It feels like your heart is thundering in your chest with every breath you take, shaking your skull with it’s deafening beating. Any second now he could turn around, and you don’t know why, but the thought of that critiquing stare landing on you again gives you incessant goosebumps.

Sitting through homeroom has never been so suffocating-ly awful, and Jisung can tell when he comes over after class ends, plopping backwards in the chair in front of you to wince at the face you’re pulling.

“I’m cursed, Jisung—“ You childishly squirm, flopping around like some self-acclaimed grub.

Your classmate huffs a humorless chuckle, helping fix a messy strand of your hair before raising from his spot.

“Don’t worry, It’ll only get worse from here. ‘Want a Banana milk?”

Shitty Han Jisung and his shitty personality. Way to lift your spirits, asshole.

“You suck.”

“Two Banana milks it is!” He slaps the wood surface of your desk, breaking into an unaffected smile while hurrying off to the vending machines. Perhaps you’ll just mope till next class, brainstorm the easiest way to glue your statue back together and leave the country while you’re at it.

Abruptly, the minimal view of the classroom from where your head’s wedged between your arms is invaded by a green color, slowly peeking out only to be met with dollar bills waved in front of your face.

Now this had to be a dream. Han Jisung is never fast when it comes to vending machines, usually ogling at options the latest one installed in the cafeteria offers.

Also, for the record, he’s dirt poor like most of the students here.

“Fifty dollars for the damage.”

Damn it!

Still not a dream, because the crisp cash held out to you is none other than Mail Boys’ (a.k.a. Minho’s), staring down at you like you were some insect scurrying near his polished shoes... Or maybe that’s your interpretation of how he’s looking at you.

“This should cover any fees for fixing the statue, I don’t want to deal with you hunting me down every morning when I pass by.” He grumbles, patting the money next to your hand.

You gawk, amazed that he considered at all. What left you more amazed? How he had this amount of money in the first place as a student. Applying for a delivery job may not be so bad after all. That or he does own polished shoes, fancy clothes and a suit with his picture-ready hair and all.

He might as well scream in everyone’s face that he’s rich waving those dollar bills around.

“Keep it. It’s already bad enough it’s broken but it’ll be worse if I have money. Unlike you, I pride myself in being poor.”

There’s that terrifying, critiquing stink-eye again.

“..but my parents don’t, and they would think I stole something.” You quietly add, and Minho almost snorts, appearing to be having a difficult time withholding his bubbling laugh.

Before he can respond though, Jisung steps through the door, stopping in his tracks upon noticing what's going on, beverages in hand.

Noticing the elephant in the room, Minho slides the money closer your way and walks out, leaving you with awkward silence, fifty dollars, and too many questions.

Well, until both Banana milks slam down and your friend snatches the bills with a loud gasp, boba eyes round as saucers.

“Holy shit! I haven’t seen fifty dollars in like, four years. Is that Minho guy your secret boyfriend? Was that why you were acting so weird earlier?”

Not helping with the too many questions part, Jisung. And a secret boyfriend? Does this guy even know you?

“Absolutely not,” You cross your arms, being sure he sees your excessive eye-roll. “He broke my statue.”

In those few seconds of silence you swore he went through at least eight phases of contemplation trying to figure out the context attached to what you said, deciding to just blankly squint till you spilled your guts.

“So you’re telling me,” He points his finger at some imaginary diagram on the desk, focus flickering in every direction trying to connect the dots. “That Mail Boy, no, Lee Minho, threw the newspaper, broke your statue and ran off? This morning?”

There’s a doubtful lilt to his voice while you hurriedly nod, praying the boy will believe you despite how insane it sounds—despite how insane it really was.

“And this isn’t because he’s attractive?”

You cough.

“I mean, he’s attractive, but-“Aha! Finally! A prospect! Looks like my lovely Y/n won’t die alone after all.” Jisung places an over dramatic hand over his heart and you open your mouth, ready to tell him off before the bell rings and all hope of earning any sympathy flies out the window.

Nonetheless, confessing your grievances to the ferociously blunt Yuqi and expecting the newest volume of Full House after school wasn't usually the highlight of your day, but you've come to accept anything away from Mail Boy should be counted as a highlight at this point.

Come to think of it, you haven’t seen the god forbidden statue-killer since morning class.

Eh. He’s probably massacring some more neighborhood statues. He seems like he’d have weird hobbies anyway.

“Sounds a bit like you’re into him if you ask me,” She chews her sandwich, and you might’ve thrown up in your mouth a little bit.

Absolutely not. Your education is far too important to be interrupted by this transfer student. Plus, he also seems uninterested in love, right? It works out .. totally.

“C’mon Yuqi, you know me. The only thing I’m into is good grades and college admission.” You slump against the bench, absentmindedly stealing a few grapes from the girl.

Seriously though, falling in love is not on your roster for high school. At least not for now.

Nope. Take it back. No love. None. Nope.

Yuqi gasping like someone stabbed her seems to pull you from your loophole headspace, grabbing your arm excitedly.

“Oh my gosh! Doesn’t Volume Eleven come out today?” She says, and you might’ve just ascended to heaven.

Ah. Forget good grades and college admission, you’re in love with Full House. Save the boys for later.

She didn’t need to say anymore, because in the blink of an eye you were full sprinting out the gates, mind trained on one thing and one thing only.

Practically singing to yourself with glee, you swing open the door of Myeongjin DVD store, calling out an equally singsong, “Sir— did you save the newest release for m-…”

Huh.

You know those scenes in movies where all the music stops and everything seems to just freeze? Yeah, this was one of those moments.

“Hm?” Is what he responds with.

What Lee Minho responds with, working behind the front desk sorting through rentals.

Come to think of it, this is the first time you’re calling him by his actual name and not Mail Boy.

Strange.

“Ah.. Ahem .. The new volume of Full House, is it saved for me?” You gradually pique, bouncing back and forth on your heels.

Things should be settled by now between you two after he paid you back and all, but you just couldn’t seem to shake the awkwardness compiling in your gut. Like this strange boy that showed up (literally) on your doorstep would get you into trouble.

Placing the book he’d been checking down, he picks up a bulletin board, finger scouring the titles before glancing at you.

“Full House? Nope, we’re all out.”

“Thanks- WHAT?! Look, you might not know, but I’m pretty much the owner’s daughter,” You explain matter-a-factly, cocking your brows expectantly. What kind of stunt you were pulling you didn’t know. Either way, you’d use the many years you lived here before him to the utmost advantage.

Turns out, you definitely should’ve remembered how Lee Minho earned his reputation in the first place.

“So sorry, he didn’t say anything about his beloved daughter paying a visit today.” The man in front of you leans forward, head tilted in a conniving manner.

What. A. Prick.

Jesus he looks good right now.

Opening your mouth to bite back, deja vú plows through like a bus when he cuts you off, light smirk gracing the edges of his lips. Mocking, like when you first met. Mocking.

“But, I’ll be sure to tell you when more are in stock. Deal?”

Oh how you want to beat his stupidly handsome face in.

“Deal.”

Settling down into your chair and repeatedly clicking the cream colored mouse, you watch the blue background fill the screen along with the other person’s username.

Only on stressful nights would you log back into the anonymous chat rooms. Except today wasn’t necessarily stressful, more just leaving you in denial without Volume eleven in hand.

Somehow, these conversations were thrilling in their own, odd ways. Not knowing if the person is your best friend or your worst enemy made the experience all the more fun.

Recently, you'd begun chatting with Lino98, a kind person who apparently moved not too long ago. They gave you the best advice and would always joke around like friends while you talked about love, grades, and anything at all.

In a sense, they were your friend.

YOU: Lino98?

LINO98: Hm?

YOU: What do you want to do in the future? Now that we’re getting older, I’ve been thinking about it a lot

LINO98: Well that’s a random question

YOU: Shhh just answer

LINO98: Okay okay, mine is way out there and pretty unrealistic for a student, but

LINO98: I want to be a dancer

YOU: Wowー dancer? As in, dancing on stage?

LINO98: What else would a dancer do ㅎㅎ

YOU: You know what I mean!! But being a dancer is a good dream. You’ll have to work hard, but it’s your passion, so I shouldn’t be one to judge

LINO98: You’re sweet, saying that

YOU: Hey hey don’t get all sappy

LINO98: I mean it ㅋㅋㅋ

You smile, fingers rapidly typing to keep up with the replies. They had a wild dream, sure, but Lino98 had their own aspirations, and you wondered if maybe in the future you’d see them on TV.

See them in real life. Now that was a thought. Heck, you didn’t even know if they were a boy or girl.

Oh god, what if Lino98 was one of your classmates? Worst case scenario it’d be Minho.

Although, that would never happen, the chances were too slim.

Too slim.. but not impossible. In fact, very much possible because no matter how small the chance is it could always become realit- “Y/n!”

You jump, reaching to turn off the old monitor.

There’s a shuffle outside of your door, the woman’s head peering in momentarily. You have an idea of what she's going to say next seeing you in front of the computer.

“You’d better not be on those chat rooms, I told you they’re dangerous. Also, could you run to the market? I’m missing bean sprouts.”

Bingo.

Patting the doorframe, she disappears once more.

You know she’s right. Sure it could pose a threat, but you’re a student, and adult things like being worried about safety could come later.

However, running into Mail Boy there could also come later, and you debated on turning around before he noticed you. That was, until you remembered the unfortunate errand you’d made the trip for in the first place.

The last person he expected to find at Ahyeon Market was you, looking equally as shocked with his appearance here as well. Still clad in uniform, he motions from his place on the outdoor bench, patting the spot next to him.

If gears could literally be seen turning in someone’s head he's certain he would have witnessed an entire mechanical process by now, rather amusedly analyzing your angel and devil conversation with cat-like observation.

“I don’t bite y’know,” Breaking the quiet lull, he clicks his tongue, earning a suspicious look.

“And how am I supposed to believe you.” Question rhetorical (he assumes), you approach him slowly, testing, like he’d pounce at one wrong move. The tempting urge to jump and scare you briefly crosses his mind.

“Because,” He bites back a grin. “Our Volume eleven pact, remember?”

Almost instantly, the tense atmosphere dissolves and you plop down beside him followed by hushed “Yeah, yeah”'s muttered under your breath. Barely twenty seconds pass though before you’re bolting to upward (and ironically scaring him instead), glancing left and right.

“I’ll get some Banana milk.” You bolt to the small fridge unit, lips focusedly pursed cashing in your coins.

Minho can’t help but smile to himself at your unbothered-ness, your easiness. You’re kind, not to mention brutally honest on occasions. It’s reassuring being around you, like he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Like, in some sense, his youth is returning to him. Piece by piece.

“Here.” Your voice has his head swiveling, holding a small cartridge for him to take.

“So.. Why’d you transfer here?”

He stares at the drink for a while, though your eyes never stray from his, observing him contemplating, thinking. Cat-like, you agree. Minho greatly resembles a feline.

“You like this stuff, huh.”

“Jisung got me hooked on it, you don’t want it?” Knitting your brows and greedily pulling the drink to yourself, he’s quick to reach forward, grabbing your hand in his.

You hesitate, both frantically searching each other's face before Minho snatches the Banana milk from you, tone suddenly doused in nervousness.

“No- I do, thanks.”

Liar. He hates Banana milk, but he’ll drink it. For you he will.

There’s that feeling again, blooming in his chest and warming up his entire body.

Weird.

It’s like he’s a three year old crushing on his classmate again, awkward and young. In love.

Anyone unlucky enough to witness this obvious pining deserves a written letter of apology.

“Mm..” You hum quietly, aggressively poking your straw through the paper lid.

Minho’s lips form a tight line, fixating on the rotation of his own straw as he aimlessly moves the drink in his hand from side to side.

“My family went bankrupt. That’s why I moved.”

Pausing your movement, you nod quickly and he feels a pang of guilt strike his chest. He shouldn’t have told you that, should’ve kept the comfort and ignored the question. Way to ruin it, jerk.

“What was your first impression of me?” Changing the subject, he clears his throat from the chilling air. So long for the summer heat.

“First impression?” You mimic, appearing deep in thought for a reason he couldn’t help but feel nervous about. Nervous for what, he couldn’t name.

There were lots of things he “couldn’t” when it came to you. It makes things interesting, makes you interesting. Life isn’t boring when with you, something he realizes the longer you accompany him, vice versa.

He can’t make sense of the feeling, ironically enough. Another “can’t”.

“Well, If you want me to be honest,” Glancing over at him from your earlier focus on a neon road sign, you lift your brows, awaiting his signal to go on.

“I thought you were cold, rude, not to mention a pain in the butt. Also, I’m not kidding when I say I was convinced you were a rich and spoiled brat-“ Rapid waving of his hands in front of you stops your train of thought.

“Are- are you being serious or just insulting me.” He interrupts, deadpanning while sending you a rather confused, nonsensical look.

“Dead serious. You wanted the truth after all.” You shrug your shoulders and Minho chokes a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

Unbelievable. Absolutely, unforgivably, unbelievable.

“And what about now?”

More thinking.

“You’re nice to be around, but still a pain in the butt.” Shuffling on the pavement, you pull your coat tighter around yourself, gaze flitting to the crack of smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

With the streetlights automatically turning on, without response, simply a soft look from the boy, he steps forward and wordlessly beckons for you to follow.

Walk home with me, an inaudible invitation, and you tag along accordingly.

He doesn’t want to go home, but he won’t tell you that. In fact, he dreads going home to a silent house. He won’t tell you that either.

Truth being, Minho hadn’t been this happy in ages, and being by you, talking to you, getting to know you and everything in between has brilliant shades of color decorating his black and white world. If only he could muster up the courage to tell you that.

“Shoot!”

Panickedly facing you, surprise lay evident on his usually unwavering features.

“I forgot bean sprouts! Hold on, I’ll be right back.” You pronounce, disappearing inside the Market with the boy right on your heels.

Arriving at the register, he places his wallet on the counter before you could fetch cash from your pocket. Turning to him, you poke an accusing finger against his chest, fixing your attractive friend with a hard stare.

“Minho, I told you rich people paying for poor people isn’t ‘nice’, it just makes us look pitiful.” You pout, and the boy resists the overbearing urge to coo not only from how unfairly adorable you look right now but hearing his name come out of your mouth for the first time as well.

Adorable. What was he thinking using a word like that anyway? He meant something else .. another, descriptive word for something cute… Nevermind.

“Think of it as me paying you back for the Banana Milk.” Giving in the tiniest bit, he lands a small nudge against your side, earning an equally playful shove back.

Laughter envelops the both of you, walking from the store with bean sprouts in clutch and pink hues decorating your cheeks whether from giggling or something else. Swinging the bag beside you, a fleeting thought of holding it for you crosses Minho’s mind. Should he? What if you say no and things become awkward again?

God, why is he complicating things so much recently. Just do it, Minho. It’s not that difficult.

“You know how much I gave the cashier for those drinks?”

Quickly pulling his hand away from where it reached for the plastic, his grimace becomes instantly replaced with feigned curiosity in hopes you didn’t notice.

Holding eye contact has never been difficult for Minho. In fact, he’s a pro at it …with everyone but you. So when you study him with those brilliant eyes, he can feel his ears burning bright red.

“Yeah? How much?” He mischievously replied, watching you light up.

You have a particular smile, the one that transforms your face so prettily, the one that makes his heart thunder in his chest. He really likes that smile.

“Ten dollars. Can you believe it? I could buy a mansion with that money.” You hum sarcastically, tumbling all over the sidewalk while being kindly beckoned away from the road by the concerned boy.

“Hey Minho?”

He turns to you.

“What do you wanna do when you grow up? Y’know, after High school and University.”

Opening his mouth to respond, he can’t help but find the question eerily familiar.

“Since I was a kid I wanted to be a Dancer. I actually auditioned a few days ago, but I probably won’t make it.” The dark haired man humorlessly laughs, actively avoiding your attention.

You frown, he doesn’t notice.

“You don’t know that. I don’t know what I want to do, but riding in a sports car sounds nice. It doesn’t have to be realistic, we’re young.”

There it is. This was the easiness he was thinking of, your unbothered-ness. All of the things he finds himself smiling about. The things he looks forward to dropping off your mail in the morning to see.

“..A sports car?”

Once comfortable silence interrupted by his snickering, you wack his arm for the nth time that night, sending him a faux glare.

“Oh look! It’s my stop!” You interject, hiking up the stairs to turn around and see him looking up at you, eyes crinkled with a small smile adorning his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow! Goodnight, Minho.”

Minho thinks you're very, very cute.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

Minho hopes you think he’s cute too.

Days go by, some long, some short, with August feeling extremely drawn-out and uncomfortable—leaves gradually beginning to brown for autumn.

As for September, you’re still waiting for Volume eleven from Minho, incessantly dropping by the DVD store to annoy him into leaking some info about when the next batch will be shipped.

“It’ll be next week”, “It’ll be next week”, “It’ll be next week,” is what he always says every week until you’re quite certain next week has happened four times already.

On a different note other than your Full House dilemma and impending exams, Minho had been elected Class President, Soyeon and Hyomin are getting closer to officially dating (from you and Yuqi’s observations), and Jisung is currently keeping count of how many girls confess to Mail Boy each semester.

Don’t ask about the last one.

Expecting someone like Yuqi to be running up to you so early on your walk through the school gates, you blink twice to realize it’s Minho instead, something in hand and positively glowing with cheerfulness.

“Y/n!”

Spinning around, you mirror his overwhelming energy and narrowly dodge getting run over in the process.

“Guess what.” He grins, looking scarily enthusiastic compared to usual.

“What?” You ask, already lost in the way his caramel globes for eyes seem to practically sparkle.

“I got accepted! I’m going to be a trainee!” Shoving the acceptance paper in your face, you scream, covering your mouth in disbelief.

To say you both jumped is an understatement, basically frolicking around the courtyard like lunatics. Well, before you realized the entire jumping and frolicking thing and hurriedly returned to your normal, stiff high school selves.

“Also, the Full House shipment came in this morning.”

…

He’s kidding. You’re kidding.

Oh my god you could kiss him right now. Good thing you didn’t say that out loud.

Running as fast as you possibly could with the boy yelling for you to slow down, you mercilessly slam the door open, manically searching through boxes until the beloved, astounded, mystifying book rests peacefully in hand.

Heaven’s gates should’ve opened up by now.

Taking his sweet time as if this wasn’t one of the greatest moments in life, your counterpart casually strolls up to the register, appearing to check out the rental despite holding your precious book hostage after scanning the barcode.

“You don’t care about me making the cut, do you?” He pouts, lip pitifully jutting out.

Mouth left agape, you swiftly bite back what you’d planned to say about the deal, stumbling over sentences to find an excuse.

“I do! I swear! Now give me the book.. please?” Sporting the most genuine tone you could manage, you snatch the book he begrudging lowered down, hugging the prized possession close to your chest.

“Fine, liar.”

Yikes, talk about a grumpy face. He looked like a kicked puppy. You didn’t even think that expression was possible for Lee Minho.

However, you also didn’t think it was possible to feel sort of upset about it. Not his grumpy face, no, but him getting accepted. Wasn’t this a happy occasion? Volume eleven was released and finally in your possession and your friend was now going to be a trainee, now going to chase his dream of becoming a dancer.

So why did you feel sad walking back to school?

It felt wrong, you felt wrong, and the disgusting feeling only grew worse as the day went on. Heck, looking through pages and squealing with Yuqi—an activity that normally helped lift your spirits—didn't feel as reviving.

Later that day you asked him when he’d be leaving to train, leaving for Seoul, far from here. You dreaded the question, but at least it gave you time to prepare in a sense.

“January,” he replied, eating his apple as if it wasn’t the end of September, as if your heart wasn’t splintering into a billion tiny pieces.

Perhaps somewhere, hidden in his unaffected façade, he felt a tad bit upset like you did.

‘It doesn’t have to be realistic, we’re young.’ You recalled assuring him at Ahyeon Supermarket back in August, thinking it wasn’t going to be real, believing it wasn’t going to become reality.

If only you had known.

Adult things were climbing from the busy city into your small town. You weren’t ready.

So when life becomes increasingly overbearing, you log back in.

YOU: Today has been so draining.. I want to wake up and everything to be a dream

LINO98: Need to vent?

YOU: I thought you’d never ask ㅠㅠ

LINO98: Alright alright, go on

YOU: Well I have a friend, and he’s getting to do something he’s always wanted, but it means he’ll have to go away for a while and I can’t help but feel sad

LINO98: Feeling sad is normal, there’s nothing wrong with that

LINO98: It makes you feel like everything you’ve done with them was taken for granted, don’t you think?

YOU: That’s exactly what it’s like

YOU: If you're okay with it, could we meet up and talk? I mean, we’ve been talking for a while now and I just thought

LINO98: Would Marronnier Park work?

YOU: Didn't think you’d be so willing

LINO98: What can I say, we work well together

YOU: How will we find each other though?

LINO98: Hm.. theres that flower shop nearby, right? Bring a yellow tulip and I will too, good?

YOU: Tomorrow at noon?

LINO98: I’ll be there

Yellow tulip, noon, tomorrow. You sigh a stretching grin, clicking the small exit button before flopping onto your bed.

Only downside of this would have to be your inability to sleep, mind unable to calm itself down as you lay awake. Tomorrow you meet Lino98, someone truly cherished for all their help and kindness.

Eyes slowly drifting closed, you can’t help but hope meeting them in real life will ease some of your troubles. Even just a tad.

Springing from bed that morning, you make your daily stop at Myeongjin DVD store, attempting to drag Minho outside to grab dessert with you while he complains of having plans.

You grumble, growling to him you’ll enjoy the sweet treat more by yourself, his saccharine farewell fading into the distance as you close the door behind you.

Luckily, there wasn’t anything that could truly damage your happiness today(despite really wanting to get desserts with Minho) while picking up a yellow tulip on your way to the meeting location.

Gosh, your stomach was doing backflips right now.

Locating the park’s sign, you stopped and patted yourself down for a moment.

Alright. Now time to start guessing. Would they be a girl? Be a boy? Maybe they’d be Yuqi. That would be hysterical. You mean, you’re soulmates at this point, it’d make plenty of sense.

Venturing inside, you shuffle between people in search of the same flower being in someone else’s grip till finally spotting it, hidden between two people in front of you.

If they would just scoot over a little bit.. there! Now you can see ...them.

Oh.

Making eye contact, you watch them realize, beginning to back up.

You don’t know why you run away, you don’t know why your legs won’t stop and why the person keeps calling out behind you.

Funny that the slim chance you mentioned turned out to be true.

Today you met Lino98, someone you'd truly cherished for all their help and kindness prior to learning who they were.

Today you met Lino98 at Marrionner Park holding a yellow tulip, but the person in front of you was Lee Minho, flower in hand and staring directly back at you.

December gradually rolls around, and usually you’re ecstatic seeing all the lights and festivals Taeyang High hosts as Christmas and new years approaches, especially with next year marking a new millennium.

After the news of Minho’s departure though, it’s hard enjoying the holidays knowing he’ll be leaving only a week or so into January.

No. You should soak up your last month or so. This is the most important part, you can’t be miserable when he hasn’t even left yet.

Despite how badly you want to see him all the time, nothing came easy with his identity revealed.

You weren’t angry nor embarrassed. And initially, you didn’t feel anything, you just stared at him across the park, wondering if all of these coincidences were dreams, your loneliness causing hallucinations of a sort.

Regarding the running away part, that was more of a “need to get my thoughts together” reflex, a desperate and last resort you now deeply regretted holed up in your room with Yuqi’s voice ringing through the home phone.

Yes, you’d like to say you dealt with the matter like a responsible almost-adult.

You didn’t.

“Yuqi… I’m ruining my own life and I can’t do anything to stop it..” You hiccup, loud sobs echoing through the empty household.

She clicks her tongue, once patient and understanding persona instantaneously snapping.

“Yah!” The girl shouts, and you flinch on the other side of the line. “Keep saying stuff like that and you really will ruin your own life! I know no one warned you that falling in love with him would be like this, but seriously, I am not letting you waste this last month avoiding each other!!”

In spite of her reprimanding you, her intentions are clearly aimed towards wanting the best for the both of you, and you know you should be grateful in return.

“I’m not in love with.. My god I am in love with him, what do I do—“ You drag out, dissolving into more cries.

It’s true, both her point and the fact that you’re unabashedly in love with him. All of it. From first meeting him, avoiding him, making up, becoming close and convincing yourself you weren’t looking for a relationship, and now avoiding him again. You’ve always had that feeling, that lingering affection teetering back and forth between the line of friends and lovers.

Although, your friend’s sigh suddenly gets cut off by another person, and you briefly wonder if her younger brother took it before making out the name Yuqi yelled in the distance.

“Yeesh you sound ugly when you cry.”

Is that.. Jisung?

“Han Jisung, give me back the phone!”

Jisung over at Yuqi’s house. Weird.

“Just one seconds this is important~” He whines, and from the sounds of it is also currently running away from what you assume to be a raging Yuqi.

“Okay so Yuqi, Soyeon, Hyomin and I are planning the craziest new years bash ev-“HAN JISUNG!” Phone finally finding its way back to the original holder, you can hear sly giggles echoing in the background.

She audibly groans and you can easily imagine her hands threading through long blonde locks of hair, probably visibly resisting the urge to bury her companion. You can’t help but smile.

Just so you know, only Jisung and I are here so don’t worry about the public humiliatio- aw shit there's thirty seconds left on the call- anyways, be sure to stop by my place on the 31st, we have a surprise for you!” Time limit ending without another word, you take the time to connect the dots with Jisung’s “new years bash” and Yuqi’s “surprise”, to expect a small party of some kind.

With those two arranging it, you don’t know what to expect.

Why not? The reasons to say no are basically nonexistent.

Christmas break officially starting, students clambering from school grounds, and your daily “avoiding Minho” schedule on hold now that you’re out till the end of January, the anticipation of this upcoming party creeps closer. That, and how you plan to talk to Minho.

You aren’t stupid, and you didn’t ignore what Yuqi had said about avoiding each other either, fully aware of how essential coming to terms was for the sake of your friendship, and at least for you, for the sake of your love too.

The real question was when, something you’re still trying to figure out on the 30th of December. Way to procrastinate.

Before tonight you’d never hesitated talking to Lino98 (Minho), deleting your message at least a dozen times before clicking the send button and preparing to hide under your comforter for the rest of the night. Keyword: preparing. Because when you anxiously peered between your fingers to see a response beneath your message, you might have just jumped out of your skin.

YOU: Hey, can we talk?

LINO98: I thought you’d never ask

YOU: About meeting up.. I want you to know I’m really not mad at you

LINO98: You can be honest, Y/n

YOU: I am, promise

YOU: It’s so much easier talking online than in person, but I really want to see you

LINO98: Same, but I doubt I’ll be able to say the same things in person

YOU: I think that’s something we can both agree on

LINO98: Hm

YOU: I’m busy tomorrow, but maybe the next day?

LINO98: Seems we still work well together

YOU: Don't say that, I’ll get PTSD..

LINO98: Sorry sorry ㅜㅜ

Little did you know you were both busy doing the same thing after nobody mentioned Minho would be at the party as well, too stunned to speak seeing him sit around the enormous pile of snacks and drinks laying in the middle of the floor.

However, you found it in yourself, not only because of the minimal time you had left but also because of your conversation last night, to move past the tension.

Like adults.

What a bizarre phrase coming from you.

And it looked as if he felt the same too.

Lively conversation filled up the small space, and six kids, six adults, sat around an army of junk food and held a pitiful excuse for a party while using this time together to forget, if just for a moment, about life outside the room.

You couldn’t have had more fun talking and catching up, not to mention the curdling screaming when Hyomin and Soyeon announced that they were officially dating, bouncing around whilst stuck in Yuqi’s bone-crushing hug of delight.

The clock ticked on the wall, and after hours of bringing back old memories and suggesting new ones, a few attendees began to slip away, gradually leaving only you, Minho, and Yuqi to occupy her living room.

She yawned beside you, half-lidded eyes making her sleepiness rather apparent. Patting your shoulder, the girl rose up, trudging toward the door.

“Alright I’m tapping out, see you guys next year.” She quietly mused and you cracked a sarcastic laugh, both wishing her good night before the sound of the knob clicked shut behind her.

It’s just you two now, watching the live broadcast in a numbing peacefulness. It stays like that for a long time, basking in the presence you’d been deprived of after that fateful day.

You stifle a chuckle.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall in love with you, but I guess I couldn’t help it.” You wistfully smile, back leaning against the wall clad in your heavy sweater and socks.

You hear him take a deep breath.

“I could say the same,” He whispers, eyes trained on the celebration airing on TV. “I bet you were upset that I’m Lino98.”

You pull your knees closer to yourself, listening to the two minute warning the reporter announces.

The room once busied becomes quiet apart from television chatter and your hushed talking. In a few minutes it’ll be a new Millennium, the 2000’s.

You should feel happy, knowing you’ll graduate soon, knowing that a new year is beginning. You’ve tried, truly, but you can’t find it in yourself, not with the circumstances.

“I’m not upset. I was just being selfish because I didn’t want it to be any harder seeing you leave.”

The circumstances seem to steal everything away. Minho must know that much better than you do.

Except you have this moment right here, right now, that the circumstances haven’t taken away yet.

He utters a pained sound, a sound that feels like crying. You don’t dare say anything.

“Don’t people,” He stops, waiting for you to look to your right, look at him and his glossy eyes. You’ve never seen Minho emotional, and you wish you never had. It feels cruel. Immeasurably cruel.

“As I speak, we have ten seconds till 2000.”

He opens his mouth again.

“Kiss on new years?”

You can hear the countdown begin.

“Ten!”

Minho has a wistful smile, dancing from your eyes to your lips.

“Nine!”

Should you take the chance?

“Eight!”

Will this hurt you?

“Seven!”

Haven’t you been hurting enough?

“Six!”

He’s leaving in a few days.

“Five!”

It’s now or never.

“Four!”

You lean forward, lips softly connecting with his. They’re soft, his lips, and he angles your head from side to side with a gentle touch, palms enveloping your cheeks, holding you close. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. Everything feels like it’s on fire. Ferociously alight and blazing.

“Three!”

He whispers something between your lips, you can’t hear it.

“Two!”

Partially, you feel grateful you couldn’t.

“One!”

Fireworks burst in your peripheral, littering the screen with a bountiful assortment of lights and cheers.

The new year had begun, and so had a different chapter in everyone’s lives. Both your classmates, and especially yours and Minho’s.

“Let’s welcome the year 2000!”

2000.

LINO98: Don’t get too excited, but I’m outside your house, come quick

YOU: Didn’t we see each other yesterday?

LINO98: Are you saying you’d rather stay in? I thought you loved me

YOU: Fine you big baby, but I’m going back to sleep after this

LINO98: Sounds good to me〜

You groan, dragging yourself out of your covers at the speed of a turtle to organize the unruly chaos ensuing in your disheveled hair and pull on your shoes.

In all honesty, you can’t even remember how you got home last night, only recalling that Minho tasted like Coca cola and that you had a roaring headache.

Minho tasted like Coca cola. You kissed Minho.

Wow.

Maybe the adrenaline had taken over last night considering how your face erupted red merely thinking about it the next morning.

A honk sounds outside and you jump slightly, mind sifting through ideas of what exactly the boy had gotten himself into this time. With Han Jisung’s influence yesterday, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was in a fancy sports car or something.

Scratch that, he was in a fancy sports car, and you had to blink repeatedly to check if you were awake.

Did he have a license? Wait, nevermind, since when did he own a car?

“What is this, you may ask?” He gestures to the bright red convertible Mustang, tipping down the sunglasses perched on his nose with a cock of his brow. “Well, since I‘m getting to do what I wanted when I got older, I thought it was only fair you got to do what you wanted to too. Sports car, right? Hop in.”

Oh. My. God.

You just keep falling in love with Minho over and over again.

Breathing a laugh of disbelief, shock, and every other emotion making a pit stop while standing in your pajamas, you cross your arms, sending him a suspicious stare.

“And might I ask how you got your hands on this thing?” Smile threatening to appear, you stave down the urge, struggling to maintain your unconvinced poise under his watchful eye.

“Let’s just say I know a friend who knows a friend-“Y/n! What happened to our statue?!” Your mothers shouts from up the stairs and you practically leap into the passenger seat, frantically urging him to step on the gas.

“Only took her a few months,” Your personal driver huffs amusedly, quickly putting the vehicle in reverse to flee the scene. Ah.. You’re not looking forward to the trip home.

Luckily, you’re not home, and you hope you won’t be for a while. Instead, you’re driving through side roads with Minho and his stupidly attractive sunglass-clad self, and it feels like you’ve just started high school again.

Minutes pass, maybe hours. You wouldn’t have been able to tell, too caught up enjoying it. The sights, the smells, the sounds, all of it. Enjoying everything.

Slowing down to pull into a small alcove overlooking the ocean, the boy leans his seat back and you do the same, warm sun baking down on the dark interior. You reach a hand forward, fingers tangling with his.

“Can we stay like this forever?”

He smiles.

“Forever it is.”

2009.

Scooting the metal chair to the side, Minho takes a seat, adjusting the collar of his shirt that earns a few screams here and there alongside the merciless flash of camera shutters swarming in every direction. Today marks his first fansign as a group, as a member of Stray Kids by the stage name Lee Know.

Exhilarating, perhaps. Terrifying, also perhaps.

Initially, he was anxious, worried he’d come off as cold and rigid followed by the other lovely assortment of offensive adjectives you used to describe him standing outside of school that day in August.

Life was different then, just as it is now. Although, he’s not unhappy with how things turned out, nor how life changed since high school.

Tonight you’d text him (like you did every night since he first left) about the fansign, asking if he found anyone cute (the answer would always be you) and telling him about your day, your changed life.

He’d listen, give his most-always teasing input, smile at your equally teasing retort and tell you to eat well and take care of yourself.

“Good morning Minho— ah, wait, I should call you Lee Know now, shouldn’t I?”

A voice stirs from in front of him and he’s certain he’s officially going insane. But no, it does belong to you, in the flesh, mesmerizing eyes disappearing as you grinned while plopping down onto the stool below.

“Do me a favor and act really obsessed with me for a minute, I want to make your fans jealous,” You giggle, leaning closer to whisper the petty request.

In the midst of his shock he scoffs, appearing profusely offended.

“And you still suck at introductions. Not even a congratulations, ouch.” The brown-haired now-Idol frowns, behaving more like a child than ever before.

His status as a normal person might’ve developed (Minho was never a normal person), but he still retained the maturity of a twelve year old.

“Oh, dearest apologies my beloved Lee Know.” Basically gagging, you balance your chin on your hand, once teasing expression replaced with a smile that makes his heart downright ache.

“Congratulations on becoming a dancer, Minho. I missed you.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @dorisnumber1fan @mal-lunar-28 @httphans @virluna148 @bettybeako @grannyindehouse @minhaurloml @ylixbok @inkelea @luna585 @hyunbae-35

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fishdonald · 1 month

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#bankruptcy alternatives #alternatives of bankruptcy #bankruptcy alternatives for individuals #non bankruptcy alternatives #bankruptcy alternatives in toronto #bankruptcy alternatives canada

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credit720britishcolumbia · 8 months

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#non bankruptcy alternatives #alternatives of bankruptcy

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marchofpain · 8 months

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Above is the first official March of Pain prompts list and some alternatives. All of those will also be typed out at the bottom of this post for accessibility.

March of Pain is similar to things like Whumptober, Comfortember, and Hurtcember: That is to say it's a list of hurt/comfort and whump-oriented prompts for writers, artists, etc. to fill throughout the month of March.

RULES

1. You can write/draw for any fandom or pairing

2. You can write/draw SFW or NSFW content, just label it accordingly

3. Please tag any Tumblr posts sharing your prompt fills with #marchofpain2024 so that we can find and repost them

4. If you post your works to AO3, please add them to this collection and add "March of Pain" and/or "March of Pain 2024" to the additional tags of your prompt fill(s)

5. The challenge officially starts on March 1st but feel free to write/draw before then and/or submit things after the month ends officially, whatever works best for you

6. Be kind to other participants

7. You DO NOT have to do every single prompt if you don't want to. The point is to have fun and spark creativity, not to feel like you're doing a chore

PROMPTS LIST

1. Depression

2. Apologies

3. Screaming

4. Self-Inflicted

5. Anxiety

6. Career-Ending Injury

7. Bankruptcy

8. Broken

9. Vomiting

10. Flashback

11. Sick

12. Tics

13. Nerve Damage

14. Dissociation

15. Abuse

16. Burden

17. Work Injury

18. Miserable

19. Heavy

20. Addiction

21. Unlovable

22. Pain

23. Cut

24. Stomach Bug

25. Meltdown

26. Worthless

27. Food

28. Burn

29. Scars

30. Crying

31. Shutdown

ALT PROMPTS

1. "I'm sorry"

2. "I love you"

3. "Please"

4. "Help me"

5. "I'll be better"

Yes, this is by the same event runner as the @hurtcember challenge, so if you did that challenge and noticed any similarities, that is why.

#writing prompts #writing prompt #dialogue prompt #fic prompt #whump prompt #dialogue prompts #story prompts #art #fanart #fiction #fanfic #fandom #whump writing #whump community #whump #hurt/comfort #prompt list #march #challenge

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xmalereader · 2 years

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Simon Riley X Tall! Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

Authors note: I caved into this request even though I wasn’t accepting any but couldn’t help but get it done. I tried to give it batman and catwomen vibes but failed miserably. (￣∀￣) anyways, enjoy this shot that I didn’t really try my best on but did what I could to get the story going.

Request: Ghost X Tall! Male Reader that can speak Spanish (it's hella sexy) and tries to teach Ghost some too...

Warnings: Fluff, Spanish language, flirting, masked reader, tall reader, missions, hacker, pas memories, learning, ghost falls for reader, mentions of Alejandro’s past, language, semi short shot, code name: rouge.

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: @guardkeywolf

Laswell had a mission for the a team, fairly simple but also risky. She thought the process would be a lot faster than she thought but instead took notice that the mission she needed to complete was going to be a lot harder than she thought and needed all the help that she could get. She didn’t need strong men but intelligence and the last intelligent person they had was Graves until the betrayal. His skills would’ve come in handy if he didn’t betray them along with Shepard. She instead had to look for an alternate route, one that she felt hesitant to use.

When she arrived in base she was able to get everyone to meet her, standing around a table as the gives everyone a nod of greeting before starting. “Thank you for accepting my offer, I’ve been tracking down Finch for years and had a hard time tracking him until now.” She holds out a folder and sets it in front of everyone, opening and showing them a picture of their target. “Finch operates in Money Laundering. He’s in charge of cleaning the money in order for it to be used and harder to trace.” She explains, setting out the file. “He helps big leaders, gangs, drug dealers, cartels—whoever the hell he can get in contact with, he will work for them. If we can get him then we can get all the intel that we need from people he might know. Target must come back alive.” Her last weird date stern and serious, she couldn’t lose this man nor can she risk getting him killed.

“Very well,” Price is the first to speak up. “How do you want to do this?”

Laswell nods. “Finch will be arriving to a casino in Las Vegas—good place to deal with money when their are so many people around gambling for it. You’ll all need to be undercover, blend in with the crowd and find a way to keep his guards away from him.” She explains, pointing at a few pictures of Finch’s guards that followed him everywhere he went. “Here’s the tricky part, he has total control of surveillance. If he takes notice of anything then it’s over for us.”

“So, how do we get through without getting caught by cameras?” Soap is the one to ask this time, raising a brow at her as she softly grins at the man. “I know someone who can help us.” She digs into her bag and pulls out another folder, showing the boys before sliding it over to Price first, who takes the folder and reads through it.

“He goes by Rouge—slippery bastard but will help us. He’s a hacker, can easily slip in out of anything.” She stands up straight and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched them carefully, passing the folder to each other as they read through the information and background. “He first hacked into the pentagon at the age of twelve, later at the age of fourteen he would hack into many wealthy companies and steal their personal information along with selling it. The kid got 5 companies to file for bankruptcy and nearly a hundred people were arrested for illegal information.”

Ghost takes the file next, eyes scanning the information as they land on a small picture clicked on the corner, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the other man’s features. Before he could hand the folder back to Laswell she speaks up fast. “Ghost, your mission is to keep a close eye on him and to protect him at all costs.” She refers to the hacker.

Ghost grunts, setting the folder down on the table. “Does he know how to use a gun?” He wants to make sure that the kid could at least defend himself or know how to fight. “He can handle a gun.” Laswell smiles back at ghost before she looks at everyone else. “Very well, he will be arriving tomorrow. Be prepared.” She instructed before giving them one last nod and leaving the room, giving them time to get ready for their new mission.

—

Simon wasn’t too happy that he’d have to sit back and take care of a new recruit. He wasn’t one to babysit rookies but Laswell had pulled him aside after their meeting and told him that their hacker was a slippery one and loved to escape their grip. The kid was smart and could easily steal millions without anyone noticing. Simon questioned himself as to why they haven’t arrested the rookie or perhaps kept a close eye on him? He wasn’t given a reason and he’d rather not ask why. Simon stayed back at base to wait for the hackers arrival while the others got ready, it was until Soap came out to join him when he asked. “Think the new guy knows what he’s doing?”

Simon sighs deeply and shrugs. “Not sure, let’s hope he doesn’t mess up our mission.” He wouldn’t want to deal with the rookies mess if he were to create one for himself. Both him and Soap watched as a plane comes down, landing near them as the two stood back and watched, the door slide open. The first thing the two men took notice of their new teammate was his height, he was around the same height as ghost, perhaps slightly taller by a few inches but he didn’t seem too intimidate. In fact, the new rookie wore all black with a case in hand, grinning at the two as he approached them. “Gentleman.” His voice was soft but also filled with a teasing tone, ghost knew he wasn’t going to like him.

Soap was the first to speak up. “Good to see ya! I’m soap, you’re the one they call rouge?” He questions. While the other nods. “Some call me Rouge others call me Fox.” He suddenly says, giving soaps hand a shake and eyeing Ghost up and down before focusing back to soap. “Fox?”

“You’ll know when you see my work.” Rouge answers, hand on his hip as he looks over his shoulder to see the other team members exiting the building. The first thing rouge does when the rest of the group approaches is pull Alejandro into a hug while the other laughs and slaps his hand against his shoulder. “Look at you! Portándote bien?”

“Como no?”

The two laugh at each other before pulling away. Simon glanced at the two, obviously knowing that the two had some sort of connection to each other but what surprised ghost the most was that the rookie spoke Spanish. He didn’t sound like he was learning, more like he was raised with it as a slight accent is hard in his words.

“It’s been too long, causing trouble again?” Alejandro added while Y/n smiles widely at his old friend. “I’m always causing trouble, because of my trouble I’m here to help you boys. Laswell caught me up on everything and thinks I can help with getting your guy.” He waves his case around, showing them his tools. “Good, we need someone like you.” Alejandro chuckles, giving the other a large smile.

“Good, now.” Price speaks up from the group. “Laswell already gave us the plans, let’s get ready and start heading out. Ghost—you and rouge should head down to the casino first, get in and find a safe place to stay hidden while Rouge does his own magic.”

Rouge smirks. “Si, Señor.”

That gets everyone moving, separating into different vehicles that they plan to take to Vegas. Rouge follows ghost towards their own car, getting up front as he sets his case on his lap, smiling softly to himself as ghost sighs deeply. “Let’s get this done quickly.” He states, starting the car up and driving away from base while Rouge opens his case and pulls out his laptop.

He flips it open and tries away, chewing on his lip as he focused on getting through the building and perhaps a map of the building. Ghost would glance over to him every few seconds before asking. “What are you doing?”

“I’m checking for a blind spot.” He mutters out, tilting his head to the side. “Hm, the bathroom is one but it’ll be too crowded—too many people will come and go. Perhaps the security room?”

“Too dangerous—we can’t get anyone else involved into our mission.”

“Fine.” He continues to check for any other blind spots, scanning the floor and frowning. “We can do the roof.” He points out. “There’s a skylight on the casino, big enough for us to stay hidden and no cameras up there. If their are guards then we simply take them down and I’ll be able to work on peace. No one will get in our way and I have a clear view of the floor below me.” He explains, showing Ghost his laptop and an image of the skylight.

Ghost only gives it a glance before agreeing to the idea. The other man smiles softly and returns back to typing as he checks for any other alternates in case the skylight doesn’t, jumping softly to himself as he mumbled under his breath. “Todavía no.” He sighs to himself before closing his laptop and slipping it back inside the case. Ghost side eyes him before focusing back on the road, his hand gripping the steering wheel and asks.

“How do you and Alejandro know each other?”

Rouge hums. “Oh? Estas curioso?” He raises a brow.

“No.”

Rouge laughs at his response, throwing his head back and smiling widely. “I helped me with some personal matters, we tend to get in debt with each other.” He doesn’t provide much detail about their relationship, keeping it a secret from him. He didn’t need to tell Ghost further details about his own personal life, it was dangerous and could get him caught if he were to do anything that was considered illegal. He’d rather be safe and not spread too much information about himself which is why his file was so small when Laswell presented it to the boys, only giving his code name along with his skills. The rest was either a mystery to everyone or perhaps a lie in order to keep his identity hidden.

“I’m guessing this personal matter was something illegal.” Ghost decides to speak up again, pulling rouge out of his thoughts as he turns to face the other. He shakes his head in response to ghosts statement. “It wasn’t bad, I was simply helping a friend.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Alejandro did teach me a few things—“ he laughs. “His mother taught me Spanish, she’d force me to speak it when I’m around her and I learned to speak it fluently. She’d also get pissed when Alejandro taught me how to swear around her.” It was a fond memory that he treasured. The sound of an elderly women cussing out her son as she waved a wooden spoon while chasing him around. The women may be old in age but she still had some stamina in her when it came towards disciplining her children.

“I’m trying to learn—been getting dragged around a lot in Mexico and had grown to the language.” Ghost admits.

This gets rouges attention. “Really? Perhaps I can teach you along the way.” He offers, sitting up in his seat and thinks. “You can understand it?”

“A little.”

“Perfect, how about I just speak it every once an awhile before switching back to English. I heard that it helps.”

Ghost thinks about the idea before agreeing with the other man. He’s been around the others for awhile that he’s grown to know a few Spanish words that were repeated around frequently. He understands the language but can’t speak it. In truth, he only asked to learn since he enjoyed the sound of the other man’s voice whenever he spoke the language, soft and seductive and it lured ghost to the man.

“Muy bien—“ Rouge checks the watch on his wrist. “En dos horas llegamos a Las Vegas. Once we get there I’ll make sure that we get inside undetected and onto the roof while the others get ready for tonight.” Rouge had seen the others disguise and how they had to blend in with the other guards or as civilians who were coming in to gamble while both he and ghost remained on the roof.

“You don’t wear a vest.” Ghost suddenly points out since he was wearing all black and some leather gloves sticking out of his pocket.

“Don’t need it, el disfraz que yo tengo puesto es suficiente.” Rouge blended well in the shadows, staying hidden from the publics eyes. He could get the job done and escape without leaving a trace of himself behind. He made sure to make no mistakes when on the job.

—

When they arrived to the casino they made sure to park in the back, waiting quietly as they watched the others enter the casino. The streets of Vegas were full, everyone either drinking or spending their money while they gamble. Rouge wasn’t one for parties but he didn’t mind gambling for some money or just taking money from the rich.

Looking through his scope he watched as the group got inside, signaling that it was there turn to move. Rouge puts his scope away and turns to ghost. “Listo?” He asks and gets a nod in response. Rouge grins, slipping on his own face mask to cover up the bottom half of his face, holding his case close as the two step out of the car and into the dark alleyways. The streets were dark and everyone was too intoxicated to take notice of the two of them as they climbed onto the roof top.

Rouge is the first to reach the top, hiding in the dark as he checks for any guards. “Esta seguro.” He whispers to ghost who followed after him. The two moving low and quiet as they reach the skylight, below them is the casino and gives them both a good view of the entire place. He smiles under his own mask and turns to ghost, leaning close to the other man as he whispers near his ear.

“Keep an eye out, yo hago lo demás.”

His words cause a shiver to run down ghosts spine as he watched Rouge sit near the skylight and open his case, pulling out his laptop and hacking into security. “Child’s play.” Rouge scoffs, easily getting into the security and getting access to all cameras and security numbers. “Ya entre.” He shows his laptop to ghost, showing him the surveillance footage.

Ghost raised his brows, impressed by his work. “Didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“no siempre es fácil.”

Ghost holds his gun in hand, ready for anything. “Para ti si es.” His Spanish is a little choppy and with a hint of his accent. His sudden words surprise Rouge who's eyes widen as he chuckles, clapping his hands twice. “Mirate! Ya andas aprendiendo, mi fantasma.”

Ghosts face heats up at his last words. He coughs and clears his throat, focusing back on the mission as Rouge worked on the cameras. He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and focused on the computer in-front of him. “You know—this guy your getting why not get him when he’s alone? He’s been around many places without guards but you pick the casino out of all places.”

“We need to make sure that we catch him in the act when he launders money. Who knows what else he’s doing.”

Rouge frowns deeply under his mask. “Yeah, who knows.” His eyes cast down, staring down at the casino and watched people gamble. He watched the rich gamble away their money that they had no need for. He’s seen the way they’ve handled their money, too much to us that instead of giving it to those in need they become selfish and keep it for themselves. He sighs deeply and turns back to the cameras and takes notice of their target while the boys made a move to get him. Rouge sets his laptop to the side and comes to a stand, getting ghosts attention. “Mi haces un favor?”

“What is it?”

Rouge moves past him, going around the skylight. “Can you stand here and keep an eye from here? I took notice of a few escape routes for our target and in case he takes one I want to make sure that you take notice.”

“Wouldn’t the cameras show you?”

“Their blind spots and I wouldn’t be able to see.” He responds back and watched as ghost walks over to him, standing in a new area while rouge grins under his mask. “Gracias.” He stood close to ghost as he whispered his gratitude to him. Ghost tries to focus on his task while Rouge goes back to his laptop on the other side of the skylight, picking it up and typing away as he listens to the comms.

He looks down below at the casino. “And…lights out.” He pressed a key on his laptop as the lights go dark and the room goes into chaos as everyone panics while the guards grow cautious of the lights going out. Their comms go off while ghost grows confused.

“Soap, do you copy? What’s going on down there!” He shouts into his comm but gets no response, he can hear them but they can’t hear him. “What—?” He looks up to see rouge by the edge of the roof, mask removed as he gives ghost a Cheshire grin. “Adois, mi fantasma.” He gives him a wink and jumps off the building, disappearing into the crowded streets blow a ghost cursed under his breath.

He checks his vest to see that his comm was turned off, he’d thought he had it one this whole time. He’s quick to turn the comms back on and quickly gets in touch with the others.

“Ghost, how copy? Dammit ghost are you there?” He hears Soap call for him.

He turns to his comm and glared, before he can respond back the lights are back on in the casino. He growls in anger. “Copy, rouge escaped.” Laswell had warned him.

“Hijo de puta.” He hears Alejandro sigh out in frustration through the comms. “Did we get finch?” Ghost asks the real important question, wanting to make sure that their target was alive.

“No, he escaped.” Said Soap.

Ghost huffs angrily, making his way towards the edge of the roof and to make his way down. Once he reaches the bottom of the steps he finds the car still in the same place, meaning that rouge had escaped by foot. He walks up to the car and pulls the door open, supposed to see Finch tied up and gagged on the passenger seat. The man is unconscious and with a note stuck to its forehead.

Ghost rounds the car and opens the door, removing the note and reading it to himself.

“Para mi fantasma.”

Ghost laughs, shaking his head as he comms the others and let’s them know that their target was secure and alive. He ignored their questions of disbelief through the comms and focused back on the note in his gloved hand. “Fucking hell.”

#male reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #Simon Riley x male reader #Simon Riley #games

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flowerandblood · 11 months

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The Vanity and Variability (6) (End)

[ Jane Austen • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, virginity lost, fingering, kissing, smut ]

[ description: Despite coming from a family with royal blood, Aemond is forced because of his brother’s debts to choose one of the daughters of the famously wealthy general, Borros Baratheon, as his wife to save his family from bankruptcy. When he arrives to make his choice he is distraught and discouraged, made all the more so by watching from the sidelines his youngest daughter, who seems more intrigued by his dog than her possible future husband. Slow burn, sexual tension, regency and Jane Austen prose vibe, vain, self-righteous Aemond. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in regency times (1805-1815). The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Aemond & Miss Baratheon & Vhagar Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After Mr Targaryen proposed to her, after she had rejected him, after he had gone to London to attend his father's funeral she cried all night thinking only of him, suffering more than she had ever in her life.

She craved his affect, she craved his affection, but she didn't want an engagement out of pity, out of guilt that he had to make amends to her for contributing to her infamy, which only the two of them knew.

She didn't want him to have the conviction that he now owed her something, that she expected him to take responsibility for her actions. She didn't want to be his burden for the rest of his life, his forced choice that he would be ashamed of deep down years later.

However, it pained her that he had left without saying goodbye, she was sure that he was angry with her and hated her, that she would never see him again, and even if she did, his attention would already be focused solely on her other sisters.

That he would no longer try to fight for her favour, rejected and humiliated.

To her shame, she noticed that at the thought of him, of that night, she felt again between her thighs this awful feeling from which it had all started.

She felt helpless as it haunted her and kept her awake until she sank her hand there, mimicking the gestures of his fingers, bringing herself to fulfilment thinking of his wet kisses on her neck, of him touching her there.

She experienced sudden, wonderful pleasure, moaning into her pillow, and then, as she calmed down, tears of shame ran down her cheeks again.

She felt dirty and sinful.

Her only consolation was Vhagar, whom he had not been able to take with him on such a swift and sudden journey, and who now never left her side, accompanying her on all her walks, sleeping with her in her bed, wailing sometimes and whimpering in her sleep, evidently longing for her master, feeling as abandoned as she did.

She was not comforted by the fact that Colonel Strong, on hearing that Mr Targaryen had left for London, began to visit them, pretending that he wished to establish a closer relationship with her brother and father.

Royce, warned by Mr Targaryen of his disturbing personality behaviour, tried to keep his distance and stay within the bounds of common courtesy, however she knew that she was the target of his visits.

Seeing him coming along the dirt road she would lock herself in her room and not come out, not having the strength to look at him or talk to him.

Eventually, however, she would feel hungry or thirsty and have to go downstairs, at which point he would immediately go on the attack, showering her with pleasantries and questions she didn't know what to do with.

She had the feeling that the more she tried to move away from him, the more excited he became, treating her like a challenge.

One day, however, he took her completely by surprise by asking her to speak to him in private. She said, looking at her brother in horror, that there was nothing she couldn't talk about in front of him, but he insisted that this delicate matter required them to talk just the two of them.

Never before in her life had she been so terrified.

They went out in front of their household, walking with a slow, unhurried step, she tried to keep a safe distance and did not look at him, glancing around, feeling her throat dry up with stress.

"You are surely aware, Miss Baratheon, that you have long been the source of my deep affectation and have aroused my great interest." He began in a soft, gentle tone, but in which there was a note of undercurrent from which she felt discomfort, there was something in his gaze that made her unable to look him in the face.

"I sincerely hope that I also aroused similar feelings in you. I have spoken to your father and he said that the decision is yours, so it is with humility and hope that I ask you to consider my proposal and agree to become my wife." He said this as calmly as if he was sure she would agree, that such a proposal was a dream for her.

All she could think about, however, was that while he had seen fit to ask her father's opinion first, Mr Targaryen had seen fit to hear her opinion on the matter beforehand.

She felt tears under her eyelids at the mention of him, looking at him thoughtfully, answering nothing. Colonel Strong grunted loudly as he walked beside her, bewildered by her silence.

"Did my proposal embarrass you that much?" He asked with amusement; she saw his lips lift in a smile. She stopped abruptly, looking at him roughly, her face expressing impatient indifference.

"Forgive me, sir, but I will not marry you. You would not be able to make me happy, and certainly I am the last person who would be able to please you." She said so confidently and directly that she herself felt astonished, her heart pounding like mad. Colonel Strong smiled and laughed nervously, as if he wanted to turn her words into a joke.

"How do you know what would make you happy and what wouldn't? Have you looked into what gives you fulfillment with Mr Targaryen already?" He asked lightly, but there was a note of accusation and threat in his voice, from which she furrowed her brow in rage, breathing loudly through her nose, her whole figure tensed.

"You are insolent. Ever since I met you at the ball you have been nagging me and making me uncomfortable. I have tried to be gentle and respectfully let you know that I am not interested in you, but since I can see that it is not working, I will be clearer. Please don't get your hopes high, sir." She articulated the last sentence out loud and turned back towards her house, outraged.

How dare he speak to her like that?

As soon as she stepped inside she pulled off her coat and ran up the stairs, running away from Royce who called after her to wait, laughing loudly and mocking her. She closed the door behind her and turned the lock, he pounded on it with his fists asking loudly if she said yes.

"No. Go away." She called out loudly and sighed heavily, irritated, throwing herself down on her bed deciding that two proposals of engagement in a week were too much for her nerves.

She hoped her words had been blunt enough and that this disgusting man would leave her alone.

What was her surprise when, at dinner the next day, she found him at her table, sitting next to Floris. Her father nodded at her, indicating for her to quickly take her seat.

"My dear, you need not be ashamed. Your sister announced to us today that she has accepted the Colonel's proposal." He said lowly with some kind of pride, and Floris squealed, practically jumping up and down in her seat with happiness, squeezing the hand of Colonel Strong, who wasn't looking at his fiancée, however, but at her with some kind of pride and contrariness.

She felt like laughing at the thought that he thought he might have aroused her jealousy.

Some part of her felt sorry for her sister's rash decision, but then she decided that perhaps similar people were attracted to each other.

For the next few days, all Floris did was talk about what a wonderful fiancé Colonel Strong was, sending her gifts and letters that she read aloud to them, wanting to frustrate her and Cassandra. And while Cassandra was genuinely concerned that she was still a maiden when her younger sister was to be married, the only thing she was concerned about deep down was not Floris, but the fact that Mr Targaryen had not written her a single letter since he had been in London.

She knew he had no reason to do so, but she was worried about him, at the same time ashamed to write to him herself after she had refused him.

She felt she had no right to bother him again.

During one of the breakfasts when Floris was just talking about the ring she had received from her fiancé they heard someone suddenly enter their house, loud, quick footsteps echoing down the hallway, and then Mr Targaryen appeared in the passage, looking at her wide-eyed, breathing heavily, raspy and sweaty after his journey, his hair dishevelled and in disarray, partly out of its black ribbon.

Everyone rose from the table on seeing him, but she felt her heart squeeze at the fact that he didn't speak, just looking at her, piercing her deeply, she felt herself turning red all over, it was clear to see how much she longed to see him again.

Her heart was pounding like crazy with happiness that he was back.

Her father grunted loudly, trying to break the awkward silence by asking him about the funeral and offering his condolences again. He replied something perfunctory, as if he couldn't focus on what her father was saying without taking his eyes off her, licking his lower lip in a quick, nervous gesture.

"− it has come to my knowledge that one of your daughters will be getting married soon −" He said forcing himself to be calm, and she felt a tightening in her throat, understanding why this sudden visit, why this rush, this look, this terror in his eye.

He thought she had said yes.

She felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought that he still wanted her.

Floris jumped up in her seat at his words, showing him her ring, talking quickly about how happy she was that her foolish sister had refused him, not even understanding how lucky she was to have as her fiancé a gentleman who lavished his beloved with so many gifts.

His shocked gaze returned to her, his eyebrows arched as if in pain and relief at the same time, he swallowed loudly, looking at her with affection, and she felt tears under her eyelids, wanting to run up to him, to hug him, to kiss him, to mutter how much she missed him, how much she wanted him to love her, to still want her.

He sat down to breakfast with them at her father's request and they all continued eating, but she was no longer able to swallow anything. Every time they cast longing glances at each other over the table, breathing hard, she had the feeling she was going to explode with excitement and joy.

He was back.

She smiled under her breath at the thought.

He had blocked her path immediately after breakfast by informing her that he wished to speak to her in private, and she nodded quickly, dreaming of nothing else. She dressed her coat quickly and joined him in the park behind their property.

She saw him looking at her from afar, standing in his long black coat, his hair piled back, tied with a black ribbon.

"I have not had the opportunity to offer you my heartfelt condolences. I am so sorry." She said softly what she had wanted to say to him for weeks, looking at him expectantly, feeling like her whole body was on fire, for some reason she found it difficult to breathe.

Mr Targaryen hummed under his breath and nodded, swallowing hard.

"Thank you, Miss Baratheon."

A momentary awkward silence fell between them, looking at each other as if they were about to cry. She saw him press his lips together, measuring what he wanted to say.

"As I understand it, you have rejected Colonel Strong's engagement." He said uncertainly, cautiously, as if he wanted to be absolutely certain that she in no way desired Colonel Strong's affections. She lowered her gaze in embarrassment, sighing heavily.

"Yes. It was probably the most miserable engagement I could have imagined." She mumbled, trying not to laugh out of embarrassment, her lips involuntarily curving in amusement as she glanced at him again, thinking only of how much joy she felt at having him standing in front of her again. She saw his lips twitch in the mischievous grin she knew so well.

"Worse than mine?"

She giggled at his words, thinking fondly of the fact that he had joked about it himself, that he wasn't angry with her, that they were still close, that they still trusted and respected each other.

"Please, sir, don't be hard on yourself. I didn't behave properly then either." She said softly, playing with her fingers, well aware that the fault lay with her as well, that she had not explained her concerns to him or how she actually felt about him.

She heard him grunt quietly, looking away, apparently wanting to change the subject.

"My father, in his will, deprived me of almost all my property, leaving me only a small country manor in Dermore. I wish to sell it and with those funds buy or rent an estate in this neighbourhood." He said calmly, and she looked at him completely shocked, feeling her own heart pounding fast.

"You're not staying in London?" She asked in disbelief, feeling hot in her chest at the thought that he would be close, that they could see each other, go for walks together.

"There's nothing waiting for me there. There's nothing there that I want. What would make me happy." He said with a slight smile, and she closed her mouth quickly, feeling heat on her cheeks, wondering if he was really implying what she was thinking.

He looked at her suddenly in a way from which she swallowed loudly, his lips parted in thought, as if he still wanted to add something.

"I hope that this property will soon be filled with the laughter of our children."

She felt his words in her mind, in her heart and between her thighs, tears of disbelief and happiness gathered under her eyelids at the thought that he still wanted her, that he still desired her, that he still wished her to be his wife.

She felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest, she felt like laughing and crying at the same time.

She watched with eyes wide open, shining with happiness as he came closer and closer to her, as he grasped her hot, tear-wet cheeks in his hands, as he leaned over her so that their foreheads touched.

"My sweet friend." He whispered so tenderly, so warmly, that she just smiled, feeling like she was about to melt, her whole body trembling with emotion, her legs limp and soft at the thought that he really saw her like this.

That she wasn't just an asset he could get, a woman who could meet his needs as a man, but she was his friend.

A confidant, a companion, a protector.

She didn't even know when his face leaned lower and their lips found each other in a soft, warm, sticky kiss, so wonderfully innocent and filled with affection, longing, disbelief, joy.

"Yes." She whispered and felt him smile, in response kissing her deeper, bolder, more intensely, she raised her hands and dared to touch his cheeks, his neck, feeling at last that this was right, longed for, waited for.

She pulled away from him, feeling that if they didn't stop soon she would probably pass out from the excitement and happiness, hugging his chest, seeking refuge in his arms, which immediately embraced her tightly, his lips pressed against the top of her head.

"I need to speak to your father."

She stood outside her father's cabinet, feeling both joy and terror at the same time, hearing their muffled voices, but having no idea how the conversation had gone. She remembered what her father had said to her before Mr Targaryen had come to them, and she feared he would be harsh and unpleasant towards him.

After a moment, she heard a commotion, the door opened and Mr Targaryen came out, looking at her pale, saying that her father wanted to see her. She swallowed loudly, stepping quickly inside, closing the door behind her.

Her father looked at her intently from under his bushy, dark eyebrows tapping his quill on his desk, thoughtful. He waved his hand at her, indicating for her to come closer to him.

"Come closer, child. I'm internally torn, and I need to hear your opinion on the matter." He said lowly, scratching his chin. She sat down in front of him feeling her hands tremble and swallowed quietly, looking up at him with big eyes.

"Mr Targaryen has told me that you have supposedly agreed to accept his proposal, however I find that hard to believe. Is it true?" He asked with an air of irritation, as if it was obvious to him that his daughter would answer him that she had not agreed to anything of the sort. She smiled slightly, however, embarrassed at how comfortable she felt with the thought.

"He asked me to marry him twice. The first time before his father's funeral and the second time today. I rejected him then, but today I accepted his proposal." She said in a trembling voice feeling that she was about to cry, but not from pain, but from joy that he had come back to her, that he still wanted her.

Her father looked at her with big eyes, unbelieving that he had missed not one proposal, but as many as two.

"After all, we talked about how you don't feel ready for marriage yet. That you are…"

"I love him, father. He's my best friend." She said softly, and Mr Baratheon turned in his seat hearing the seriousness with which she pronounced the words. He swallowed loudly, looking away, not sure himself what he was thinking.

"Marriage involves more than friendship. As your husband, he will have the right to expect you to bear him children, and that means you will have to…"

"I know what that entails, Father." She said softly, wanting to reassure him, to let him understand that she knew what awaited her, what their wedding night would involve.

After what had happened between them that night, she knew he would never hurt her.

"I want this."

The news of their nuptials echoed throughout the house. Cassandra locked herself in her room, crying all day, Maris didn't speak to her, Floris even rejoiced that they might be getting married on the same day, and Ellyn congratulated her wholeheartedly, saying that she had sensed all along that it would end like this.

Royce seemed both the most surprised and the happiest at the same time, congratulating them sincerely, apparently really befriending Mr Targaryen during his stay.

The problem, however, was the bereavement of Mr Targaryen's father, which stood in the way of him marrying her. The advice of the pastor was taken, who said that indeed a long wait for the wedding would not serve anyone and that he could apply for a dispensation from the bishop himself, however, the nuptials should then take place without much pomp and the ceremony and wedding should be quiet and not too crowded.

Her fiancé was delighted with this news as it meant that, apart from his family, he did not have to invite anyone from London.

He asked his mother's permission by letter, and she granted his request, recognising that at such a difficult time everyone needed a reason to rejoice, and that if the bishop gave them a dispensation for the nuptials, she herself would have no objection.

The thought that Floris and Colonel Strong would be getting married on the same day comforted them as it meant that all the attention would not be focused on them alone, moreover, with Floris' disposition and her character they knew that she would steal the whole event for herself and they would only be the background to it, so they could just enjoy the day.

There was some kind of gigantic change in Floris, she wanted to pick out the wedding dresses, hats and ribbons with her, she would talk to her about the dishes at the wedding and the seating of the guests, her excitement and joy was giving her away and although her approach to marriage terrified her she was comforted by the thought that whoever Colonel Strong was, she could probably handle him.

"When I leave for London with him I shall certainly meet so many handsome, rich men! I'm so sorry you'll be staying here in the suburbs, but don't worry, I'll be inviting you to join us!" She said cheerfully and laughed, grabbing her hand, and she reciprocated the smile, bewildered, thanking God she wouldn't be living in London and watching her flirt with other men, bringing them scandal after scandal.

Between their engagement and wedding, she and Mr Targaryen took walks together and talked a lot about his past, his life and what they wanted their future to look like. It surprised her that they both wanted, above all, peace and quiet, a life away from the hustle and bustle, gossip and big-city society.

She watched with tender concern as he became more and more stressed by the thought of their wedding and the preparations, a few days before the ceremony his family, consisting of his grandfather, his mother, his sister, his two brothers and the wife of the eldest, had arrived.

She was most fond of the Mrs and Miss Targaryen, that is his mother and sister, they were warm, cheerful women who very quickly found common ground with her father, who tried with all his might to be well mannered.

His grandfather, Mr Hightower, was a rather haughty man and looked around their estate with curiosity bordering on embarrassment, however, he was always cultured and cordial in his words, evidently recognising that their money sweetened his entire stay in their company.

In addition to them, she was very cordial with his youngest brother, who, as it turned out, was the closest to her future husband of his entire family and, during their dinner together, he talked practically only to him, with no interest in anyone else.

The person she liked least was his eldest brother. As soon as he crossed the threshold of their house he measured her with a glance and threw a comment to his wife that, indeed, his brother had chosen the prettiest of mares, at which his wife lowered her gaze, embarrassed.

She also saw the glances he was throwing Floris, and she was smiling at him, all larks despite the fact that her fiancé was sitting right next to her. However, Colonel Strong was not interested in his fiancée, only in her, when the news spread that she was to marry Mr Targaryen he no longer spoke to her at all, offended.

She could not hide how pleased she was by this change.

The night before their wedding, she took pity on her fiancé and stayed in his bed with him, letting him snuggle into her and fall asleep with his head between her breasts hidden only by her nightgown. Although he drank an infusion of herbs to calm himself down he was too excited and frightened to fall asleep and said that he needed her close, that he would go mad without her.

They didn't fall asleep until morning, figuring that even if someone caught them it didn't matter anymore.

They were to become husband and wife today.

She vaguely remembered standing at the altar as the pastor talked about the importance of marriage, love, respect and fidelity, she stood in her lovely embroidered white dress, feeling that she had never looked more beautiful, her husband stood beside her frozen in motion like a tower, focused and serious. She couldn't stop smiling.

She was so happy.

Just as she suspected, all the attention was stolen by Floris, praising and cuddling up to her husband, and they only looked at it with pity, holding hands under the table, not letting go for a second. Her husband glanced at her surreptitiously once in a while, contentment and calmness on his face, a dreamy smile that added to his mystery and charm.

They kissed affectionately, taking advantage of the fact that Floris stood up and announced the toast again.

They danced with each other a few times before deciding that they would simply leave quietly, leaving the guests enjoying themselves downstairs and escape upstairs. By the number of guests she had ceded her bedroom to his sister, so they were to spend their wedding night in his room.

They locked themselves inside, wanting to make sure his brother didn't try to annoy them, and then they threw themselves into each other's arms, kissing deeply, passionately, tenderly.

They helped each other undress, struggling bravely with the bindings of her gown and corset, which was so complicated that she could hear her husband cursing under his breath, impatient, and all she could do was laugh. He kissed her then, angered that she was mocking him, and when her corset finally fell off and she was left only in her chemise he grabbed her hips and lifted her lightly, walking with her to his bed.

He lay down with her, positioning himself over her, gliding his lips and sucking the skin of her neck, her laughter slowly turning into moans and panting as she felt his manhood pushing against the spot between her thighs from under his trousers, his hand lifting the material of her chemise and running over her bare calf, her knee, her hip, making her run out of air.

"− you're not laughing anymore, hm? −" He growled warningly and she shook her head, feeling that wonderful pulsing between her thighs again and the embarrassing wetness, her nipples becoming hard and sore.

She reached her hand to the back of his neck and untied his ribbon, making his long hair fall over his shoulders, surrounding his face like an angelic nimbus. She grasped to untie his eye patch, but he flinched and grabbed her wrist, looking at her in shock.

"− no − not today −" He mumbled out, panting quietly, looking at her pleadingly. "− please − today I want everything to be perfect −"

"− you're perfect −" She said softly, but he kissed her hand, clenching his eye.

"− I don't want to − this is the happiest day of my life − please − I'll feel more confident with this − not today −" He repeated, and she gave in, stroking his cheek affectionately and nodded.

Not today didn't mean never.

He let the air out loud with a sound of relief and pressed into her lips, sliding his tongue deep into her throat, surprising her completely, his hips rubbing against her body, she could feel how hard he was.

She entwined her fingers in his hair and clenched them tightly, panting into his mouth, moving to the rhythm of his movements, his hand again on her thighs.

"− let's see what state my wife is in, hm? −" He asked tenderly, running the tip of his nose over her cheek, and she sobbed loudly when she felt his hand slide down between her thighs, in a sure, soft motion running over her womanhood, he moaned lowly as he felt how much of her juices coated his fingers.

He seemed to have run out of words because he said nothing, he just started kissing her like crazy, sucking and licking the soft structure of her lips, his kisses were sticky, hot and loud, she could feel her heart pounding fast, her insides pulsating with each circular, sure movement of his fingers around the point that was giving her so much pleasure.

She drew in a loud breath and tightened her hands on his undershirt when she felt the tip of his finger pushing against her entrance, sliding in a little, making her feel strangely taut and full, she began to breathe hard, surprised.

"− shhh −" He hushed her, kissing her nose, her cheek, her forehead. His tender, warm kisses, his whispering for her to relax, for her to trust him, that he had to prepare her, that all was well made her relax slowly, trusting him completely, allowing him to slide his finger deep, to the very depths of her fleshy interior.

They both began to pant loudly as his finger began to slide in and out of her with a loud, slick click of her moisture, she felt something tickle her wonderfully each time his finger rubbed against the spot just above her entrance, as if he was applying special pressure there, his thumb massaging the point of her pleasure outwards with calm movements, making her begin to drift off completely, moaning louder and louder.

"− not so loud, little one − they'll hear us −" He breathed out in a trembling voice, clearly aroused as much as she was by what was happening between them, how pleasurable it was, and kissed her again, trying to muffle the sounds she could no longer control, writhing beneath him.

She cried out loudly as he suddenly slid not one finger but two into her, pushing her core apart with intense, fast movements, she felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest, her whole body drenched in sweat, her hair in complete disarray, her hands clenched on his chemise and in his hair. She felt herself clench tighter and tighter on his fingers, felt something approaching.

Then suddenly he just stopped.

He rose, panting loudly, sliding his fingers out of her, with his hands wet with her juices he began to quickly untie his trousers, sliding them down a little and laying back on top of her before she had time to see anything.

"− spread your thighs wide −" He breathed out, one hand placing near her head, the other held between her thighs, looking at her with love, desire, longing, his lips slightly parted in a quickened breath, strands of his hair stuck to his cheek.

Obediently she did as he asked, breathing loudly along with him, and then she felt it, his tip pushing against her just as his fingers had done a moment ago, except he was much bigger and harder, pushing her body to its limits, making her throw her head back with a helpless moan, never having known the feeling of such fullness before.

"− shhh − I know − I know − does it hurt a lot? −" He asked in a trembling voice, breathing faster and faster, and she shook her head, recognising that she only felt discomfort by how much he was pushing her apart, not pain per se.

She saw him lick his lips and with a push of his hips he slid deeper into her, a low, surprised moan came from his throat that made her core clench tightly against him with pleasure, she felt shivers all over her body, looking at him like this.

"− fuck − just a little more, all right? − just a little more and he'll come all the way in −" He whispered tenderly as if he was apologising to her for requiring so much effort, so much sacrifice, when he had to be the one to take something away from her, to hurt her. She nodded, looking up at him with trust.

One sure movement of his hips was enough for her to feel his tip hitting her rear end, both of them panting loudly as they looked at each other with their mouths wide open, his hand from between his thighs rose to her cheek, stroking her tenderly, his lips brushing hers in a soft, messy kiss.

Her fingers tightened on his bare buttocks as he slowly began to move inside her, shocked by the intensity of the sensation, by how much his manhood pressed and rubbed her where she needed it, with every thrust he made she felt the fulfilment he was denying her back then approaching at an alarming rate, his length pulsing inside her greedily, craving release as much as she did.

"− God − I've been waiting for this for so long −" He mumbled between the tangle of their lips, teeth and tongues muffling their mutual moans as he began to accelerate, her fingers digging into his buttocks each time his manhood pushed her core to the limit with another thrust, deliberately rubbing her upper wall at the point through which she could see the stars, she heard his thighs slap against her buttocks with a loud splat as his bed began to creak loudly beneath them.

"− yes −" She mewled, unable to say anything else except that she wanted it, that she desired it, that it felt good, that she felt wonderfully safe in his arms, just smelling him, full of him inside her.

Hearing the word, he groaned loudly and sped up suddenly, resting more securely on his hands, the tip of his length hitting her back wall as hard and fast as if he wanted to pierce her all the way through.

She lifted her hips so that he was rubbing her even harder right there, where she needed it, and when she felt his hand return between her thighs again and begin to tease her, she simply tilted her head and came, sobbing loudly from the hot, tickling pleasure that shook her body.

She heard his surprised groan, his words of disbelief that she had clenched so tightly against him, and then his sigh and moan of immense relief, she felt something warm spread through her, his manhood pulsing hard inside her as he collapsed on top of her suddenly, crushing her with his body, panting all over.

They stroked each other in silence, breathing heavily, his lips pressed once at a time to her hot cheek, sweaty from exertion, he asked in a whisper if he had not hurt her, if she was all right, and she only nodded, lying with her eyes closed, unable to say anything, thinking only of one thing.

She was his wife.

_____

Taglist 1

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