#but the older he got and the more people he met and the more dragons he runs into the more he feels self conscious

[frutavel]

Alarion is shaped Oddly so he mostly wears clothes that change his silhouette in order to appear more "normal". He's a volatile morph, meaning the nether energy in his body is volatile, so he struggles with making his visages be on model, and even when trying to compensate for it with clothing and accessories he still gets comments about it often

[drunk-person]

Leather gloves, jealous and dragons

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After the moons pass and Aemond and Lady Y/n's marriage becomes increasingly stronger, there is only one creature capable of keeping the prince away from his wife for more than a few hours, Vhagar. Sometimes Y/n cares, sometimes she doesn't, but if there's one thing she never cares about, it's the thick black gloves that her husband wears when he goes flying.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, gloves being used inappropriately (a lot of things have been used inappropriately on this blog lately, I'm talking about you training yard), fingering, clothed sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, no description for reader.

Word cont: 2.900 k

Author's note: Okay, I was just casually scrolling through Aemond's tag when this idea came up, and yes I was writing the bottom half of the fourth chapter of The Gossip, but I HAD to write this story! @peachysunrize I hope you like it, I added some inventions from my head in the middle of it 💕💕. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

Y/n Arryn was a respectable and well-regarded lady, throughout Westeros there were men fighting for her hand as soon as she was old enough to marry. Proposals came from the North, the Rech and even Dorne, but the one that was of most interest to Lord Arryn was the one that came in a black envelope with red edges sealed with the Targaryen family crest.

The hand of the king had proposed marriage between Y/n and his grandson Prince Aemond Targaryen. The young woman felt her heart come to her mouth as soon as her father told her what he had decided, she would marry Prince Aemond in two moons.

The first time Y/n set foot on Kings Landing she was terrified, the idea of marrying a man she barely knew making her thoughts cloudier than water. And when she met Prince Aemond, this terror increased even more, something she didn't think was possible.

He was as scary and taciturn as they had told her, he barely gave her a look and only said two words of courtesy, other than muttering every now and then while looking down on everyone as if he were from a race superior to mere mortals.

Y/n's fear became even more overwhelming after she met Aegon, Aemond's older brother. Her heart ached as she listened to the gossip around the fortress about how he cheated on his wife, how he was always drunk, and how he spent more time in the brothels than in the fortress. Sadness took over her, and she imagined how terrible life itself would be from now on.

How wrong she was.

Things began to change on the night of the wedding when the prince vehemently denied a bed ceremony. Y/n was so nervous, the fear of the nuptials was already consuming her, combined with the fact that other people would be watching it made her tremble, until Aemond denied the ceremony and ripped that fear out of her.

The remaining fear was quickly extinguished when Aemond gently laid her on the bed and made her cry with pleasure in a way she never thought possible. Her hands tangled in his silver strands of hair as he touched her in places that made her blush with embarrassment as she remembered the other day.

From then on, little by little, she got to know her husband and every day she became more grateful for that. He still had that stoic and arrogant air, but now Y/n could see behind it, she saw the small acts of importance he gave her daily.

How he made a point of having at least one meal a day with her, how he asked how her day had been, how every now and then she would wake up after a passionate night and find an arrangement of beautiful flowers on the table in her room. And each of these things from the smallest to the largest warmed her heart until it was completely melted by her husband, to the point where she couldn't wait to be with him.

Little by little Aemond spent more and more time with her, and when they weren't tangled in the sheets so close together that you didn't know where one began and the other ended, they were sitting in the gardens talking, or reading together in some quiet place, or even just quietly enjoying each other's company. At a certain point, the only one who could receive more attention from Aemond than Y/n was Vhagar since he almost always went on long flights with the dragon.

That afternoon in particular Aemond was taking much longer than usual and Y/n was waiting for him impatiently as she walked around the room. He had promised to arrive before sunset so they would have time to walk around the garden, but now the sun had already set and the maids had even lit the candles.

The loud noise of the door suddenly invaded the room and Y/n promptly got up to wait for her husband, as soon as he entered her field of vision Y/n arched her eyebrows ironically.

-Did you decide to show up, husband? - Moons ago Y/n wouldn't have spoken to him in such a way in her wildest dreams, but now she was so familiar with him that she often didn't have as much politeness when speaking.

-I'm sorry, wife. - He said, removing the belt with the dagger and sword and throwing it on the couch. -Vhagar was a little sensitive this afternoon, she tends to want to fly longer distances when she is like this.

Y/n just made a humming sound with her mouth instead of responding, a habit she had picked up from Aemond without even realizing it. However, Y/n couldn't help biting her lower lip lightly when she saw him still wearing his riding clothes, she had never said anything to him, but seeing him returning from the flight always affected her mood and it was almost automatic so that she got excited.

-Wife… - Aemond murmured, approaching Y/n from behind and holding her firmly by the waist. -Are you by any chance jealous of Vhagar… a dragon?

His voice was incredulous and Y/n burned with embarrassment. Before she could respond Aemond laughed, something that rarely happened, which made her blush even more as she tried tried to free herself from his arms.

-You don't need to be embarrassed, I find it very flattering that you feel such appreciation for me to the point of feeling jealous. - He arched his eyebrow, still smiling. - No matter how unreasonable it may be.

-Husband.. - Y/n complained grumpily looking at her feet.

At that point she was no longer red only from the small misbehavior, but also from the thin, rough texture of her husband's riding gloves against her sensitive, soft skin. That was always a problem, she couldn't help but sigh every time she saw Aemond arrive wearing those damn gloves. And when he ripped them off and threw them haphazardly on the table? She felt a pressure between her legs that made her want to jump on him.

-What is it? Why are you all bristling, wife? - Aemond rubbed his hands against her arms and Y/n shivered even more making him arch his eyebrows again.

-They're your gloves, husband. - She said looking at the floor. – They are rough.

-I can take it off if you want. - He spoke, still gently stroking her arms, but after speaking he noticed that his wife lowered her eyes and didn't respond and then, approaching her lips to her ear, he spoke in a low voice, almost making her sigh. - You don't want me to take it off, do you?

-Do you like rougher things, dear wife? - And with the question he ran his hands down Y/n's body and slowly pulled the fabric of the dress up and accumulated them on her hips, making Y/n gasp as she felt the rough gloves passing over her thighs and squeezing them. slowly. Aemond couldn't help but smile when he noticed his wife's reactions to the roughest touch.

-Come here my dear, I'll show you how much I missed you. - He said, pulling her more and more towards him, sitting in one of the armchairs in the room while he placed her on his lap facing the large mirror and guided his hands to his wife's knees, slowly separating her legs, now being able to see the moisture that had formed in her intimacy.

-I haven't even touched you yet, dear wife, and you're already so wet for me. - His delicious voice sounded in her ear as he slowly moved his hands up her thighs, making her desperate for him to get to where she needed him most. The sight of his gloved fingers running up her legs made her roll her eyes with desire.

Aemond smiled mischievously and Y/n held her breath, not knowing where to look. His smile intensified as he brought his fingers to her cunt and at this point Y/n was barely breathing with desire.

Slowly he guided two fingers to her entrance and rubbed gently, pulling some of the moisture concentrated there and taking it to the pearl, which he began to rub languidly, eliciting sighs and moans from Y/n.

-You look so beautiful when you open your legs for me. - He murmured, brushing his lips gently against the shell of her ear, making her let out a louder moan. - So beautiful making these perfect sounds when I've barely touched you yet.

He then moved his fingers down and with a smooth movement that made Y/n roll her eyes, he penetrated just one gloved finger into her cunt. The sight of his finger disappearing inside her as he admired her with that look of pure adoration made her want to cry with desire.

-Very good beautiful girl. - He sighed as he slowly moved his finger teasing her, knowing very well that she needed more. - You always welcome me so well. How about another one?

He had barely asked and Y/n was already nodding her head practically begging for him.

-Such a needy lady my wife is. - He murmured as he inserted another finger inside her, making her moan his name with praise. - I can't leave our bed for a few hours because it becomes a meaningless mess.

Aemond guided his free hand to the front laces of Y/n's dress and pulled them tightly, loosening her wife's neckline more and more until her breasts were exposed to his pure delight, who guided his gloved hand to her erect nipple. of her gently pinching him as he admired her reflection in the mirror.

Meanwhile he moved his fingers slowly inside her and the feeling of the rough fabric of her husband's gloves against her own soft and wet insides made Y/n see stars and sigh in contentment with the double stimulation. As Aemond fucked her with his fingers he found that spongy spot that took her body out of orbit, and when she moaned uncontrollably he smiled even more mischievously against her neck, leaving kisses and bites there, pinching her nipples even more.

-So good husband. - Y/n sighed, leaning on his shoulder.

-You don't know how much I want to fuck you right now. -He murmured, biting her ear and sucking it while he nuzzled his nose in her hair.

Aemond penetrated her third finger making her whimper, but unlike before where he caressed her gently, he now started to get into a rougher rhythm, still slow but with force. And Y/n in turn just clung to his arms as she threw herself back, leaning against her husband's clothed chest, and moving her hips in search of more friction.

-So desperate my wife, throwing herself against my fingers like a beautiful filthy whore. -He brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face when he said that, so that Y/n could see herself better in the mirror, and the sight of her made her moan even louder.

His gloved fingers moving in and out of her cunt, his palm firmly massaging her mound, the fabric of the gloves slightly moistened and a white ring forming at the base of the fingers contrasting strongly with the dark color they possessed. The contractions of pleasure of her cunt crushing Aemond's skilled fingers as he smiled and bit her neck working even harder to coax pleasure out of her, he loved the feeling of her silky walls squeezing around him.

The way he curled his fingers and then moved them in and out made every nerve ending in Y/n burn. The roughness of the fabric was driving her crazy and she wanted so much more, she wanted to be set on fire.

-Husband. - She moaned, arching her back and pressing herself even more against him while turning her neck slightly to face him, taking one of her hands to his hair and removing the eye patch in the process. - I'm so close… so close. Please.

-I like it as much as you implore my dear. - He guided his other hand to her chin and squeezed it tightly, forcing her to keep her eyes exclusively on the mirror's reflection, the rough fabric of the glove making her gasp, while the sight of Aemond's now uncovered sapphire eye made her moan. - But I want you to keep your hungry little eyes on your pussy.

-See how wet she is for me, how well she takes my fingers, you are dripping my dear wife. - The movements became faster and stronger and Y/n felt some tears run down her cheeks as she moaned uncontrollably at the sight of Aemond's gloved fingers buried so deeply in her soaked cunt.

And when he accelerated the movements of both his fingers inside Y/n and his palm against her sensitive pearl, Y/n cried and screamed as she came against his hand, shuddering with pleasure.

Aemond was lost at that scene. He couldn't take his eyes off his wife's cunt writhing against his fingers as her juices oozed out between his fingers. Her face full of pleasure as she screamed and begged for his name was another thing that could easily kill him in that instant, he would certainly die happy with that scene.

-Look at the mess you make, my dear. - He said after removing his fingers from her trembling cunt. - Clean up for me like the good wife I know you are.

Aemond guided his hand to Y/n's lips and she lazily sucked on his gloved fingers. The taste of the fabric mixed with her own taste further numbing her mind, still clouded by the orgasm.

And Aemond could no longer contain himself when he saw that expression of contentment on her face as she sucked on his gloved fingers. And he quickly took her off his lap and bent her over the carpet, still facing the mirror, making her gasp from the abrupt movement.

Y/n had barely balanced herself and Aemond had already undid the laces of his own pants and guided his cock to her sensitive pussy. They both moaned senselessly as soon as he penetrated her completely. And he quickly brought his hands to the top of her dress, dragging it down and leaving her breasts completely free for him to massage and squeeze as he pleased.

He fucked her so well, and Y/n lost her breath with each firm thrust from Aemond and panted with pleasure as she whimpered for more with tears in her eyes.

She raised her head, looking towards the mirror again, and the sight of his hand massaging her hips and squeezing her nipples as he fucked her while still wearing those damned riding gloves made her eyes roll with pleasure, and she begged for him with Even more willing looking into his eyes and sighing when finding that blue glow that she had learned to love so much.

-I love that look you have when I'm inside you. - He groaned, rolling his eye with pleasure as he fucked her, and Y/n lowered her face once again. Aemond then guided his hand to her chin, forcing her to look at the mirror again, he wouldn't miss a second of that passionate look that his wife directed just at him and that made Aemond's heart race.

-No my dear, you keep those shining eyes on me while I fuck you like you deserve. - And removing his hand from her chin, Aemond went up to her hair and pulled it back, holding her firmly and keeping her gaze fixed on the mirror.

-Aemond, please. - She whimpered, enchanting him with those eyes that made him lose his head, and once again he guided the tips of his gloved fingers to the top of her thighs and caressed her forcefully, making his wife gasp and moan as she collapsed in front of him, who held her. by her hips as he fucked her with abandon looking for his own climax, which didn't take long to come when he came deep inside her.

The two remained motionless, their bodies pressed together and their breaths labored. Y/n brought her own bare hand to her husband's gloved hand and caressed it with gentle circles still completely lost in fleeting pleasure.

-You look even more beautiful when you're cumming all over my cock. - He murmured, still lost in pleasure against her hair, making his wife smile.

Y/n in turn, faced the mirror and sighed with contentment when she saw their reflection. Aemond behind her still panting with his usually stoic face relaxed in pleasure as he held her against him still holding her thighs firmly to keep her in contact with him as she squeezed lightly every now and then.

-Love you. - She said tiredly, still with her head lying on his shoulder, looking at him through the mirror.

Aemond didn't respond with words, he just mumbled like he always did. But Y/n no longer needed words, she had learned to distinguish every look, every touch and every sigh of her husband to know that he was also in love, especially when he pulled her even closer and left a soft kiss on her neck .

Tag list: @slut-for-m3 @fallout-girl219

[solkara]

❛ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 , benjicot blackwood ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you were the apple of your family's eye a rare gem they would do anything to protect but sometimes even the purest doves crave something bloody

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , benjicot blackwood x fem! velaryon / strong! reader

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , benji with the 10 seconds of screen time ateee tbh or wait is it not benji cuz I've heard some people say it's not so plz explain cuz I'm so confused lmfao !!

house of the dragon masterlist

⌗ you were a bastard. born from a night of passion shared between you mother and father. rhaenyra and daemon. but no one would ever call you a bastard. as you bore all the features of a targaryen unlike your siblings. white hair purple eyes. the seven kingdoms called you aemma reborn. as your striking resemblance to your late grand mother was uncanny.

⌗ growing up life was easy. your mother and grandsire doted on you. your siblings would go to the ends of the known world for you. ser harwin and leanor though not your real fathers stepped up and were there for you whenever you needed them. and though you had never met your real father your mother told you that he would love you.

⌗ truth be told there was nothing that daemon more than to be with you. his daughter. his oldest. but he settled for watching from afar for now. hearing about all of your achievements in pentos. how you had claimed the creeping death amaris. a dragon that had never been claimed and was rumored to be from balerion's final clutch. and it showed. as amaris was the largest dragon around. making vaghar look petite. and while daemon couldn't help but be the proudest man in the known world. part of him breathed a sigh of relief that his daughter didn't get hurt.

⌗ life was good. as you grew older tales of your beauty spread far and wide. from winterfell to dorne. you had suitors from all over flock to offer their hand. from dresses to castles. they offered it all. but were ultimately shut down by either your mother or grandsire. even the queen alicent tried offering the hand of one of her sons. but that idea fizzled out after diftmark. though it was still obvious that both of the queen's son's still bore a certain mixture of fondness and lust for you.

⌗ the deaths of harwin and laenor broke you. and after the the harrowing night of having to watch aemond lose an eye. you were exhausted. your eyes red and with no tears left to cry. you walked off to find your mother after having just finished packing. only to find her with an unfamiliar man. "mother?" you asked approaching with caution.

⌗ "my darling girl I want you to meet someone this is daemon your father" and for a moment your heart stopped as you looked at the man before you. you had dreamed for so long for the day that you would finally meet your father. and now it was here you didn't know what to do. but fear not as daemon took matters into his own hands. pulling you into his embrace which you gladly accepted. finally you left complete.

⌗ after that time seemed to fly by. your mother and father got married. your brother got betrothed to your half-sisters. and all of you lived happily on dragonstone together. with you and your siblings going for frequent dragon rides together. teaching them high valyrian. listen to your father's many stories he gained from his travels. and letting your mother braid your hair while the two of you giggled about the newest gossip.

⌗ though there was one topic she would never touch. and there were suitors. as princess rhaenyra had received hundreds if not thousands of offers for her daughter's hand. which she all denied. at one point there were so many that daemon restored to using a large chunk of them as kindle for the fire in their room. claiming "none of those vile pig's are good enough for my daughter" to which the heir agreed. the last thing she wanted was for her beloved daughter to be used by some lord as a broodmare.

⌗ but rhaenyra knew that she would have to wed her daughter off at some point. and that scared her. though her eldest was the blood of a dragon. you were gentle and soft. the apple of her eye and the thought of you being hurt. by a man nonetheless made her heart clench. and daemon agreed swearing he would rip any man. regardless of who. if they tried anything with their daughter. which was easy to say as the royal couple were under the impression their daughter's interest hadn't been caught by anyone. but oh how wrong they were.

⌗ see you had indeed had your eyes set on someone. who's name happened to be ben. the first time you saw him was at your name day tourney. where he jousted against a lannister. and won much to your joy. before going on to win the tournament. after asking for your favour. which you gladly gave. and you couldn't help but blush. as you couldn't deny he was attractive. even if he was covered in someone else's blood.

⌗ and so began the beautiful friendship between the two of you. as you went from secret love letters sent by ravens. to flying to see him whenever you could. truth is you were head over heels for him. just as he was for you. you were two half's that made a whole. twin flames if you will. and ben had made it clear that he would give you the world and that all you had to do was ask for it. a sentiment which you reverberated. the two of you had talked about a life together. married and with kids. now all you had to do was tell your parents.

⌗ but oh boy when you decided to tell them. was that an interesting conversation. your father nearly unsheathed dark sister. your mother nearly passed out in horror. your brothers were either confused or looking at benjicot like he was dragon food. and your sisters were smiling from ear to ear. but after they had all settled down you spoke. and the two of you made it very clear that you were madly in love. and after a few more threats from your father and brothers. a couple more happy tears and hugs from your mother and sisters. everyone had made peace with the fact and were overjoyed for the both of you.

⌗ and within the week news had spread to every corner of the seven kingdom's of your betrothal to the blackwood. and with was also said that the men of the kingdom's morned the loss of the chance to marry you by descending on brothels to drink and lay with whores. your uncles included. but you paid little mind. as you enjoyed life within your little bubble. spending your days with your family and benji. life was perfect. and you couldn't wait for the wedding.

⌗ and once the day finally arrived. you were jittery with nerves. dressed head to toe in white. you looked the spitting image of duty. as you walked arm in arm with your father towards the alter. the eyes of hundreds of highborns fixed on you in awe. but all you could focus on was. ben. your ben. as the two of you recited your vows with joy you sealed it with a kiss. and after the celebrations of the night. and your new husband threatening to behead anyone who dares mention a bedding ceremony. the two of you joined select family. from both side. to join for another ceremony. a traditional valyrian wedding. and as you sealed your love once more with a bloody kiss. you now truly had it all.

anon , May I please have a targaryen! reader, daughter of daemon and rhaenyra, born after jace like she looks so much like Aemma, and the kingdom would speak of her as Aemma reborn, being favored by Viserys and her people. Can imagine her claiming a dragon that was rumored to be from the late Balerion’s clutch, a stark contrast to the other she-dragons, with her own being a ferocious creature of black scales and fire of black and red. While she is loved in her kingdom, she is also loved in her family. Much like Helaena, the reader is the apple of the kingdom’s eyes and dearer to her family more than anything. And when the topic of suitors comes, all of them are horrified when the one that catches her eye is the Bloody Ben himself, Benjicot Blackwood. ps. I’m a sucker for a beloved character whom loves someone that is the exact opposite of her 😭💖 Requesting for more familial and platonic fic with the Benjicot romance just maybe being small 😩☝️

[saturnniidae]

Interesting and, in my opinion, often overlooked thing about Hiccup is how he's like, not really a compassionate person by default. It was learned, not an innate trait like it seemingly was with Valka.

From things said in the first movie, we can presume he's always had a fairly intense interest in dragons, but it was solely with the intention of killing them – and very stubbornly his way at that, considering he hadn't even read the Book of Dragons yet – and it kind of makes sense considering, he's likely desensitized to violence with how often their village was repeatedly burnt to the ground then rebuilt. Like he got excited there was a raid, completely one-track minded on his plans to shoot something down for his own benefit with no regard for the danger everyone (and himself) was in (and yes! This is somewhat selfish, but he was also a child.) Again, a lot of people overlook the fact that while he was insecure about it, alienated by his peers, and looked down upon by adults, Hiccup is still a viking – or at least was raised as one. He still very much held the same, core dragon killing beliefs every one else on Berk did. The only thing that set him apart was his inability to follow directions due to his unwavering obstinacy when it came to doing things his way.

He had every intention of killing Toothless upon finding him, only changing his mind after seeing the dragons fear and realizing they're both trapped by circumstances outside of their control, and even then had no plans of seeing Toothless again after freeing him. He thought he lost his chance at killing a dragon, after uaving the realization he just didn't have the heart to look an animal in the eyes and take its life, he was fully prepared to return to his mundane routine of ignoring what adults want him to do in favor of his own, ironic and futile attempts at making his father proud.

He's never had any kind of 'natrual' connection with dragons, it was something he stubbornly worked towards. Like I said before; he was as set on killing one as any other person on Berk, I just think he had an easier time accepting they were wrong due to spending most of his life as an outcast.

He only went back to find Toothless after his first attempt at dragon training, it was with no intention to get closer, more of an almost childish curiosity, a fascination that grew out of hand, especially after Astrid yelled at him and forced him to confront what he was doing with the question: 'Whose side are you on?"

I know Forbidden Friendship is the moment we all talk about, but I don't think Hiccup and Toothless had any kind of solidified bond until they flew together, and from Toothless' point of view, the realization that Hiccup had now gone beyond just brief fascination and was actually invested enough to help him fly again.

And even then it wasn't until he met that Terror he realized that Toothless wasn't just a one off thing, that most dragons won't attack pointlessly unless pushed to. And even then his relationship with them is still very flawed, and remains that for a long time; I know we're mostly talking about movie Hiccup here, but would the 'do-no-wrong dragon whisperer' that some people act like he is really have trapped that Skrill in a glacier because it was the easy way out? (In his defense he was like sixteen and at least realizes it was pretty fucked up when he was older and did his best to fix things)

It took time for him to get to be the so called 'peace keeper' he is as an adult (though he always seems to prioritize dragons over people, especially Toothless which is a really interesting and fitting flaw but I digress).

tldr; Hiccup was kind of a selfish, maybe even insensitive kid in the beginning, his compassion took time to develop. I feel like people too often forget that, one of his best traits wasn't an innate thing; it was something he worked for.

[formosusiniquis]

y'know like barbie

ao3

It's Erica who gives him the idea, incidentally. Though she carries herself with a maturity that far surpasses the boys most days and though she's been through multiple life altering events, she does continue to only be eleven. Which is, it turns out, prime babysitting age.

The Sinclairs are going out of town overnight, it's their anniversary -- 18 blissful years, since our marriage can vote we thought we deserved a night away -- and they don't want Erica to spend the night home alone.

Enter Steve, who the Sinclairs trust with their children and who is inexplicably the only person Erica would accept staying the night with her. Steve honestly didn't believe it even as Mrs. Sinclair was saying it. But he smiles and nods, looks over the emergency numbers on the fridge when they're pointed to, nods at the money on the counter for food that he probably won't take, and waves as they walk out the door promising that he and Erica will be fine for the night and not to worry.

It's only when their car is out of the driveway and the door is shut that Steve realizes he isn't really a babysitter. He is a keep children alive while in a dangerous situation and when the situation is over drive them around because you feel bad that their childhoods have been marred by trauma-er which doesn't have quite the same ring as babysitter, and it's a lot harder to say with that rude tone the boys have been favoring. He also realizes that he's never actually dealt with children, or not girl children. The boys had all been older than Erica, when he had started keeping them alive. Max was definitely basically a teenager when he started really dealing with her; and she was usually okay to do what the boys wanted to do, like go to the arcade. Hopper didn't really trust him with El and that was fine, he wasn't sure he trusted himself with El either.

It put him in an awkward spot now though. Staring at Erica in her kitchen, a little afraid to ask the question on the front of his mind which was "What now?"

So he asks the second question on his mind, "What do you want to do that isn't eat ice cream all night?"

Say what you will about Steve Harrington, and a lot has been said, but he always keeps his promises and he always brings a pint of ice-cream for Erica to have when he comes over to the Sinclair house. Tonight he brought three, all different weird flavors he thought she'd like to try.

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right.

It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be. 

"Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game."

Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it."

He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out."

"Famous last words."

He follows her to her bedroom, waiting outside the doorway to let her space stay private until he's told to come in. A clear plastic tub slides out from under her bed, out of sight but easily accessible and when the lid pops off he gets why. Rows of Barbies stacked neatly on top of each other, a mass grave for childhood. Steve has a stuffed bear, fur rubbed off of one ear, tucked up on the shelf of his closet that also got put away sooner than he would have chosen to, when it was too babyish.

“Alright, so who is the, like, elven warrior.”

“That’s not how you play Barbies.”

It’s snapped so fast that he thinks it embarasses her. He tactfully avoids eye contact, pulling out a doll with blonde hair snipped into a professional, if uneven, bob and a green skirt set. She's missing a shoe. “Then how do I play Barbies?”

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.”

“Right, of course.” This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?”

“Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.”

“Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.”

Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.”

“And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.”

“Right.”

-

So maybe it's more accurate to say that Dustin actually starts it.

Dustin with the shittiest attitude this side of the Ohio, something Robin blames him for.

“Like father, like son.”

“Dustin doesn’t even know his dad.”

“I mean you and Eddie, dingus.”

“I am not that kid's dad. A brotherly figure at best, strong male role model more likely.”

“He’s a bitch because you are, Steve. Maybe if your and Eddie’s love language wasn’t being as bitchy as possible it wouldn’t have rubbed off on your kid.”

“Please don’t put Dustin and rubbing off in the same paragraph let alone the same thought wave.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.”

“Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.”

Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about.

It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-”

See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit.

“I know, like Barbie.”

That shuts Dustin up real quick.

“N- no, not like Barbie! Barbie is some girl's toy.”

“Excuse me?” Robin, who told Steve that she would not help him parent his children on work days or any other day ending in y had remembered that Martes doesn’t have one and her shift was almost over. “What does that mean, exactly, a girl’s toy?”

“And,” Steve adds, because he can and because Eddie made him drive him to fucking Bloomington because he was fixated on time travel and needed access to some science journal that only existed at Indiana U apparently, “Barbie is on a research team looking for the Higgs particle so she can start figuring out time travel.”

The bell chiming as Dustin leaves has never sounded sweeter.

He’ll definitely end up taking the twerp to stupid Notre Dame.

-

The thing is that Steve thinks he’s never really stopped being a bitch.

He doesn’t want to stop. He likes being bitchy. It’s fun, when you’re doing it with people you like it’s pretty funny, and honestly he’s kinda like Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility, he’s only bitchy responsibly now.

And it’s actually perfectly responsible as an older brother type babysitter figure to correct the behavior of the younger siblings by being bitchy. If they don’t learn at home they’ll go out in the world thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, see Steve Harrington in his early high school days who talked to people like his father did.

So when Mike interrupts El with, “I’m not going to ask Steve, he probably doesn’t even know what a Pulitzer is either.”

He says, “Oh, yeah like Barbie won. Or Nancy will someday, probably. It’s a journalism award, Wheeler.”

And when Lucas corrects, “I don’t actually think you can win an award for comics. It’s still really great though, Will!”

“Barbie won the Kirby Award in 1985 for best artist, I’m sure Will is soon to follow.”

Or when Nancy tells Holly, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be something important instead?”

“You could be an actress and do something cool like go to space if you want, Hols, like Barbie.” And maybe he says it with a little more bitch than he should that time, but he’s seen the ballerinas in Nancy’s room, she didn’t always want to be an investigative journalist.

It gets to be second nature. When someone starts being shitty about something or to lighten the mood.

Erica doubts whether she should run for student council. It's her first step to being actual president, like Barbie.

Dustin makes a crack about Steve's possible future prospects when he butts in on a conversation between Steve and Robin. "I could do all three, I could be a counselor and a hair stylist and an engineer. Maybe I'll add EMT too, Barbie wouldn't stop at three, why should I?"

Or when Mike sneers at him, "What are you a cop?" All because Steve told him not to buy weed now that Eddie had stopped dealing.

"Ew, no, because you look like a fresh-faced little narc trying to be cool and you're gonna get ripped off."

"What so not like Barbie?"

"The Barbie world has achieved equality at a level that it doesn't need the cops." Eddie sometimes has to get high after a run in with Powell or Calahan who he still doesn't really trust after the spring. Steve has been treated to many a lecture on why the police were a waste of resources.

He lets Mike sit with that for a minute before he adds, "Like Barbie, I am very cool and know what it looks like when I'm being taken for a ride. If you're gonna get pot from someone other than Eddie, ask Hop where he used to get all of his shit."

It doesn't feel stupid, until El comes running into the cabin one afternoon that Steve has decided to join the rebuilding effort. It’s actually just him and Hop, who has started trying to quietly parent him, something he’s not entirely convinced isn’t revenge for telling Wheeler that Hop has smoked pot before. Steve is pretty sure El was crying when she came in, something he bumps up to a certainty when he sees how awkward Hop looks right now.

“You mind taking that kid? It’s been a long time since high school.” he rubs the back of his neck, Steve does appreciate that he has the decency to feel weird about asking. “If it’s anything outside of big brother shit I can take over.”

He does let himself get suckered by that big brother line.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place. “Hey Ellie, can I come in?”

She sits up, tear tracks plain on her face but no more are falling, and nods in that endearing, aggressively certain way she’s got. “Is everything okay?” He pauses and asks, “Was it Mike?” because he knows that’ll be the first thing Hopper asks when Steve comes back out.

“You are worse than Dad.”

“That stings, Ellie Bell.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling an already impressive will, “Lucas says it is okay to just want to be happy right now, but all they talk about is what they are going to do. Dustin is talking about going to admission early, Will talks about talking to Dad and Joyce about art school, Lucas worries about his sports and scholarships, and Mike talks about classes that count twice. I do not know what I want to be. I do not know why I have to be anything.”

“You guys have been through a lot. I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking time to just be a kid.”

“What if I never want to be something? What if I do not ever want to go to college?”

He’s made his way over to the bed with her, sits tentatively on the edge like he’s seen Joyce do before. “Then you don’t. You’ll probably have to get a job at some point, but that doesn’t have to be what you are. Lucas isn’t a landscaper just because he mows lawns in the summer.”

“You don’t think Dad would be upset?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would really make Hop mad. And you might change your mind. I've been out of school for almost two years and I’m only thinking about college now. Or you could go to college and change your mind about what you want to be. You could be a hundred things, you could be anything! Like Barbie.”

He feels like an idiot almost immediately. A jerk quickly after that. He’s made El’s genuine crisis part of his stupid running joke. But something settles in the room. The underlying tension, the thing that had the hair on the back of his neck raised. He realizes, now, that her powers had probably also been on edge.

"Like Barbie." She says it with a graven seriousness, like Steve's dumb little joke is a mantra now.

"Yeah, and you're a sophomore you don't have to have your whole life figured out right now. And don't take life advice from Henderson anyway, he thought it was a good idea to raise an Upside Down slug as a pet."

He mostly just used it to be a bitch though. Because it was fun. No, it was what he was good at. So good at it he didn't even have to try.

Because Steve had a plan to be bitchy. Specifically to Mike Wheeler who kept flirting with Steve’s boyfriend while taking advantage of his hospitality. Sure it was at their stupid Dungeons and Dragons game, and yeah Steve was the one who said they could host the game at his house now that Eddie had graduated. Yes, he knew Eddie didn't mean anything by it when he responded and usually didn't flirt back with the kids. But it was still the kind of behavior that had to be gently corrected, for Mike's sake because if he didn't stop things were going to get drastic.

His initial plan is already in action. He encouraged El to come along to watch the Party play. It was, admittedly, a half hearted plan. Wheeler got so awkward anytime El was around he mostly just hoped that would keep him from trying anything.

It isn't. Eddie starts to describe a new character, "Blonde and statuesque, she has a long bow in hand and delicate elven features."

And even though El is sitting a few feet from him Mike perks up the way he always does when there's a new NPC to flirt with. He is going to have to have a talk with Eddie about letting the kid try out a bard.

He does at least have one other tool in his belt. "Oh, like Barbie."

Steve knew what he'd get as he said it. A groan from Dustin, who falls for this as being sincere about as often as he falls for the dumb-dumbs and dipshits line -- which is everytime for the record. Will and Lucas keep their laughs small, enough that they're covered by Erica's snort. The original Hellfire crew mostly looks confused, it's becoming less and less their default as they warm up to the Steve he is rather than the Steve they thought they remembered; but he likes to keep them on their toes.

Eddie is charmed. He can tell. Sees him duck his head behind his screen and his binders, trying to preserve the stern and scary dungeon master image. That apparently isn't possible if you're smiling like an idiot at your stupid boyfriend, so he's been told.

And Mike has maybe been on the wrong end of the joke a few more times than everyone else. He turns an interesting shade of red, two parts anger and one part embarrassed is Steve's guess. The foot stomp is unexpected, but he expects its been passed down the Wheeler line as a shared signal of outrage. "Not like Barbie, this isn't some stupid kids game. She's probably a hot, wisened archer ready to reward us for helping her village, not some stupid doll that you're obsessed with."

Eddie's blank face with the twitchy eyes has fallen into place when he sits back up from behind his screen. His things aren't going according to plan, panicked face. "I think that's a good place to end things this week. Wheeler, Henderson, Jeff, and Lady Applejack you've all cleared enough experience to level right? Do that before next week."

Steve knows enough to keep his mouth shut while everyone packs up to leave. Sends a small smile to Erica on her way out to the family minivan, he knows she struggles a little being the youngest at the table even if she won't say it. He has to imagine that the outburst had stung a bit.

"You gotta be nicer to little Wheeler." Eddie chides once everyone is gone, halfhearted at best when he's telling Steve off into the soft skin of his neck. When he feels the admonishment more than hears it.

"I'm not mean to Mike." He says on instinct, he does try not to be. "And he started it."

"Definitely think you started the Barbie thing, Sweetheart."

And well, yeah. "I Barbie all the kids equally."

Eddie hmms Steve can feel the vibration of it through his back and on his neck. Eddie is about to start something he better plan on finishing. "He asked Hop where he should get weed."

Oh. "I didn't think he'd actually do it!" And then, "Is that why he keeps flirting with you, revenge?"

"No, he's got a bunch of misplaced jealousy because Will and the girls think you're hot." He toys with the edge of Steve's shirt as he says it. Perpetually cold fingers brushing the clothes warmed skin beneath making him shiver.

"The girls don't think I'm hot."

He hums again, nips at the blush red skin at Steve's neck. "El used to, Max definitely has a taste for jock.

"That's not my fault, you let Mike play a bard." He wishes he didn't sound so desperate.

"Wanted to leave the Paladin spot open for you, baby."

"I'm starting to feel convinced, we could go upstairs and you could show me your character sheet."

The things he'll say to get laid.

"Don't think I can do that Stevie, smooth as a Ken doll down there. Could show you the actual character sheet though." 

His back is cold as Eddie pulls away, smirking unrepentant as he lets Steve have the tiniest taste of his own medicine.

"Barbie has a very active sex life, actually." He's never been one not to double down. "Let me show you the fun we can have without getting your dick out."

-

He does leave it alone for a little while, even though he really, really doesn't want to. But despite what his friends, his fifth grade report card, and his mom might think; Steve is capable of keeping a hold of his worst impulses when he wants to.

So he lets opportunity pass him by.

He makes no comment about Barbie when Eddie talks about how John Carpenter is a film auteur. Not even when Dustin tries to define auteur for him. Incorrectly, but Robin comes to Steve's defense.

Barbie goes unmentioned, barely when an argument breaks out about Nobel prize winners, of all things. He thinks the kids argue more now than they ever have like it's the only way they have to get their bloodlust out now that the Upside Down was closed. He was quickly boxed out of the conversation, even if Erica kept sending him little glances over everyone's heads. (She'd let him have Peace Prize Barbie a couple weeks ago and maybe he was a little obsessed.)

Holly wants to be a vet now, a singing vet who is also on TV, but mostly a vet. She tells him all about it while he waits for Mike to find his shoes? Definitely not his quarters for the arcade, the day any of them bring those is the day Steve brings the nail bat back out. He’s one impulse purchase away from getting one of those little coin dispenser belts that the employees have -- Gareth just quit, maybe he still had his? Mike's frown is a little less general annoyance at Steve and a little more confusion when he's finally ready to leave and Barbie has gone unmentioned.

He almost breaks again when Eddie starts talking about sports. Or he starts talking about NASCAR which is close enough for Eddie, he has a surprising taste for racing for someone who never wanted to put his van on the starting line at parties. A woman led a Busch Series race for the first time, what a year '86. He's got no opinion on Barbie's ability to drive at all.

He could let a joke go. He could be nice. It wasn't so out of character that it needed this kind of attention.

-

Mike has forgiven him by the time the next session rolls around. Delayed two weeks after Eddie screamed so loud on stage that he couldn't speak for two days, and then again for Jeff's emergency appendectomy. Eddie has stopped leaving pointed gaps in conversation for Steve to fill with mention of Barbie, he has had his thinking face on instead which is good for Steve about as often as it isn't.

He leaves it alone. A little bit of non-life threatening surprise is good for the soul, or something. Listen, he’s made it this far by only asking questions when shit is about to get really, really bad and Eddie’s thinking face has only resulted in something bad once or twice -- and they probably should have spent more than a couple minutes negotiating that particular kink anyway.

When the kids start showing up and nothing has come from the thinking face, he assumes it was just for them anyway. He settles in to see whatever shit Eddie is going to do.

"From the ditch you pull a human man, a paladin. His plate is dirtied by his time on the ground but clearly gleams in its typical state. He's handsome, a square jaw and fluffy brown hair-"

"Ugh is this Steve? You already made us do a quest for him," Mike complains, maybe he hasn’t completely forgiven Steve for that last interruption.

Steve has, by his own count been the inspiration for at least three NPCs for this campaign: a white light faction rogue, Sol, that the party had to rescue from the dungeons of the nightmare King after he was caught sneaking into the bedrooms of the prince -- like it was Steve's fault that Wayne had super hearing; a young fighter from the gladiatorial combat ring who helped the party rescue a group of kidnapped children that were going to be used as bait in the next round of fights; and the most obvious Prince Stefan who sent the party on a quest to kill his betrothed a Duke called Thomas the Boarish and rescue his knight Rowen and beloved Bard Edwin -- it's not like he could unkiss Tommy, and he could be a dick but boarish was dramatic. 

He was not this paladin, assuming Eddie was telling the truth about saving the Paladin he'd made for Steve.

"Cut the out of character chatter, Michael, before it starts counting in game. The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'"

"What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face.

"Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again.

"There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles.

"What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab.

"'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

Any time Eddie reveals lore shit there's always a bunch of people talking over top of each other. It always turns into the kind of mass blob of shouting that Steve has a hard time parsing out, especially these days. Eddie somehow manages to distinguish not only people but the things they're saying and keeps his cool enough to keep the story going.

"Roll your insight, Gareth. Jeff, with a 15 history check, you have heard some whisperings from your homeland about a newly ascended goddess but not a name. Dustin, you're not getting shit with a 5 don't even try that but my back story says shit with me. Will, pretty sure that's a cleric spell but I'll let you have it he's a Neutral Good alignment. An 18, shit, yeah Garebear he does seem to be telling the truth that is the deity he follows; but that isn't the whole truth, you know a lot of the newer pantheon have a colloquial name and a true name."

"I'm sorry," Lucas says, "we aren't familiar with your lady. What can you tell us about her? Why would she leave you there? And that's a 14 on persuasion before you even ask."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'"

"And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks.

"'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'"

"What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat.

"Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face.

"'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 23

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 22, Part 24

Warning! This is a SAGAU imposter au so this is pretty gory and not happy all the time. Plus yandere but that's the expected for SAGAU.

Xingqiu and Chongyun both showed muddled emotions at your words of leaving Liyue.

“That may be best for you…” Chongyun says first as he keeps his gaze on the floorboards.

“Yes, I agree. Although I never expected that you would have to leave Liyue so soon, it's clear that you aren't safe here.” 

Xingqiu’s words that were full of understanding still had disappointment sprinkled in.

“We can't do much to help you when it comes to Ningguang, but Mondstadt is a different story. Do you have the talisman on you right now?”

Chongyun takes a few steps closer as you lift the amulet for him to see. He rubs one finger on it, examining the symbol that appears at the action.

“It's still at full charge, good. The road to Mondstadt can either be empty or full of demons depending on the day. But once you get to Wangshu Inn, it becomes much safer.”

“Because of Xiao, right? Despite how the situation looked when I first met the Adepti, I'm on relatively good terms with them now.”

It was a bit risky telling them this, but they both deserved to know at this point.

“When are you planning on leaving? Is your meeting with Ningguang today?” Switching the topic, Xingqiu brings the focus back to the most pressing issue.

Nodding, you answer. “My meeting is with her today, but I'll probably have to leave either at midnight or early tomorrow morning. The sooner, the better.”

“Then I can offer you some help that should make staying in Mondstadt a bit easier.” Xingqiu grins as he takes out paper and some ink. “I happen to know someone-”

“Albedo, right?” Cutting off Xingqiu as you think back to his connection, you continue. “Together you made the book, uh what was the name again? A Legend of a Sword? It got pretty popular in Inazuma. I remember there was a whole festival on light novels that you both attended too.”

Once you stop, you notice Xingqiu squinting his eyes at you before replying. “That's really creepy, you know? If I didn't know you were the Oracle, then I would have believed you to be some stalker.”

“If I was, then I wouldn't be stalking you of all people.” You snapped back as he grins while shaking his head.

“But yes, I'll send Albedo a letter in advance so that he can arrange for you to be settled nicely over there. I won't mention the Oracle situation as the Creator didn't want you to be known widely like that.”

It's been so long since you last heard the title ‘Creator’ be mentioned despite the fact that all of your problems come from their supposed existence.

Only goes to show just how ingrained the Creator is in this world.

“Thanks Xingqiu. Albedo is the chief alchemist and well respected among the community, so I should be in safe hands.”

Xingqiu merely hums in response as Chongyun tugs the amulet closer to him.

“Just trying to apply a better talisman on it.” He mumbles in accordance with your stare as he settles himself closer to you.

He's basically pressed against your side, but you strangely don't feel uncomfortable to have him close.

As the pair focus on their own activities, your mind wanders off to Albedo.

Albedo, the chief alchemist and homunculus created by Gold, the famous Khaenri'an scientist. Khaenri'ah, which also held so much information that could be connected to Celestia…

It was a long shot, but you could try digging for information about Celestia from him. The deal that Celestia made with Teyvat still bothers you to no end. With the age of this deal unknown, you might even have to look into the primordial dragons if it's even older than the Archon war.

A light shining brought you back to the present and your eyes flickered down to where the amulet shined in Chongyun’s hands.

Once it died down to reveal a more intricate symbol than before, Chongyun nodded, satisfied with the final product.

“This one is a lot stronger and should last longer now. I know you can fight well, but the demonic energy in Bishui Plain and Qiongji Estuary has shown to rise around this time of the year.”

Carefully taking the amulet from him, you thumbed the symbol with curious eyes. “I get it, thank you. Does it activate on its own, or do I have to activate it with something?”

“It'll work on its own. Depending on the amount and degree of demonic energy around it, the workings will change.”

Motioning with his hands, Chongyun’s calm voice explains the working to you. At the end of the rather lengthy explanation, you nod and condense the information in your mind.

“And now that Instructor Chongyun is done teaching you, I'm happy to say that I'm done with the letter. Have been for a while, but I saw no need to interrupt the oh so fascinating lecture.”

Raising the letter, Xingqiu lazily waved it as Chongyun bristled but ultimately said nothing.

“I can send this once I get home. Unfortunately, neither me nor Chongyun will be available to accompany you through your journey.”

Xingqiu tsk’d at his own words while Chongyun turned his head away, visibly sulking.

“My family was just hired to check out Wuwang Hill and my attendance for this is mandatory. Xingqiu’s father is forcing him to stay and attend meetings with his brother for the week as well.”

All you could do was smile sadly in response.

Before long they were both forced to leave by Baizhu who insisted on total privacy for the reviewing of your medication and discharge.

Watching them climb down the stairs from the window in your room, you listen absentmindedly to Baizhu.

Changsheng still refused to see you. Something Tevyat was clearly displeased with, as the once sunny weather quickly turned cloudy. The cold-blooded creature must be huffing in annoyance by now.

“And this is the overview of medication and supplements to take, with the doses and dates to take them.”

Casually looking over the paper received from the shady snake bastard, you hummed for a moment before stuffing it into your bag.

“All of it is paid for by your special benefactor. And the drug you requested has already been paid with by your body, as we both know.”

‘Must he phrase it like that?’ You internally questioned as you snatch the medication and shove it into your bag.

“I'm glad for it. Maybe even more so if she didn't pin so many babysitters onto me.”

At your grumble, Baizhu’s smile wavered at the edges. Either he truly hadn't known why there was extra ‘security’ or he was a great liar. You suspect it's a bit of both.

“Then if everything has been covered, I’m happy to say that you're officially discharged as of-” He merely glanced at the sun still high in the sky before finishing. “1300. I sincerely hope that the next time we meet you'll be in a better physical state.”

“And I sincerely wish we never have to meet again.” The words you utter are full of sarcasm, something Baizhu simply chuckles at.

“Now what could I have possibly done to deserve your ire, dear Oracle?”

“It's what you haven't done. A little heads up about all the guards would have been nice.”

“Oh, but I did!” His smile seems a little sharper as he leans toward you, his glasses sliding down to the bridge of his nose. “Didn't I let you know early on that there were quite a lot of guards?”

With an annoyed scoff, you snap back. “You said it was due to the two temples nearby, not cause Ningguang wanted to keep an eye on me.”

Raising his hands with wide eyes, Baizhu tried to placate you. “I'm not part of the Millelith, how on earth could a physician like me know the true reasoning?”

Holding his gaze, you tried to discern what he was truly thinking at this moment. Malice? Amusement? Mocking kindness?

But at that moment, all you could see was genuine surprise in his eyes. It only served to confuse you further.

Was Baizhu truly innocent in this? Your instincts in situations like these were usually correct. Besides, what would Baizhu even gain from deceiving you?

Still, that didn't explain why Baizhu was always so damn shady, but maybe you should chalk it up to an unfortunate side effect of being contracted with a snake.

“Well, then let me reiterate my earlier words. While I still hope we won't have to meet again. I do wish for us to want to meet again.”

Baizhu lowers his arms while fixing his glasses to laugh, the sound is surprisingly tender. “And how do you expect me to tell when that would be? I’m no mind reader.”

Standing up, you stay silent as you slip your bag over your shoulders and move past him. The door opens with a creak as you tilt your head slightly to meet his eyes.

“To put it simply, I’ll want to see you when you discover whatever is hidden in my culture sample.”

The door clicks shut as you leave Bubu’s Pharmacy for good.

----------------------------

After a brief but firm pat to Qiqi’s head, you walk down the stairs casually. The slight rustling of the leaves, the fabric of curtains drawn, and the quieting of chatter are all brought to your attention.

Ningguang’s spies and the Millelith guards are all watching you like rabid dogs, waiting for you to slip up and give them an excuse to arrest you right now. 

Smiling without hesitation, you get to the last step and pretend that the forced conversations around you aren't scripted, and that the eyes locked on you are of a curious bystander and not the ones of detectives.

Bringing your attention back to the list you have clenched in your hand, you read the first errand on the list.

Return books to library.

Easy enough, and it's even easier when people seem to automatically avoid being in your path.

Is this what a day in Xinyan's life feels like? It's honestly not that bad.

At least you thought so until you got to the counter and waited for the receptionist to return.

Five minutes pass. Then ten minutes, which quickly turn into fifteen in a blink of an eye. You can feel your mood worsening.

Deciding to test something, you walk away from the library and turn the corner. Peeking around the corner, you watch as the ‘customer’ that was standing in the corner all those minutes gets to the counter. Almost immediately, a swarm of people return to it.

Sighing heavily, you ignore the weight of suspicious stares and turn the corner back into the library. Getting back into line feels humiliating, but it's just a quick errand, you tell yourself.

No one moves out of the way, but the quick glances they send you make them pale with each minute.

Not a soul dares to stand behind you.

It's finally your turn, and you place your books on the table with the last bit of patience you had. She doesn't meet your eyes and mumbles something.

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” Leaning closer, you try to catch her words, only for her to yell.

“It's lunchtime now so I can't accept any more returns or purchases. H-Have a good-d da-ay!”

Flabbergasted at the sheer audacity, you watch her flip a sign on the table and flee the area.

“Fuck this shit.” Colorful curses leave you as you drop all the books haphazardly on the table and storm away.

Crossing it off the list, you follow the main path to the next errand.

Collect reward from Guild

That commission should have given you one hell of a paycheck the last time you checked. Primogems may be worthless now, but you could use the Mora the commission provides.

Plus, you needed to let them know to change it to the Mondstadt region.

Lost in thought of all the technicalities and paperwork you would have to fill out, you weren't focusing on the fleeting whispers around you.

“Is that them?”

“Who else could it be?”

“What a monster…”

“-as long as we get paid.”

“Who cares about-”

“It's me or them.”

“As long as it's them and not me.”

Your experience at the guild was a much kinder one. Katheryne was the epitome of professionalism, just as you remembered her to be. Not that you expected much else from a robot.

After handing all the written work to her, you finally noticed the absence of a certain person.

“Where’s that grouchy Lan? She's usually here, isn't she?” Checking the vicinity, you try to spot the brown recognizable bob.

“The Branch Master Lan is currently undertaking a commission at this time.”

“About the unseen razor, right?”

“That can not be disclosed to unauthorized-”

“It's fine. I’ll see you later, Katheryne.” Turning around, you leave without another thought. Lan wasn't anywhere near the ‘threatening’ list you've created since you last saw her.

Pick up plushie

Crossing out the previous task, you look at the present one with mixed emotions. On one hand, you were happy to get a chance to see something related to Earth, to your world. But at the same time, you couldn't help but wonder if it would serve more as a distraction than anything else. The memories it brought up never failed to leave your heart troubled…

Remembering the money you spent commissioning it ultimately tipped the scales, and so you dragged your feet to the little old lady’s toy shop.

It was empty just as the first time you were there as she hummed. If she was a vision holder you'd guess Hydro judging by the tranquility she radiated.

Her eyes meet yours and a happy smile slips onto your face without much thought.

“Here to pick up the toy, dearie?”

“Yup.” Popping the ‘p’, you watched as she gathered a delicately wrapped box from under the other boxes and presented it to you.

“Enjoy the nostalgic memories a toy can bring.”

You politely thank her before taking the present and walking away. The weight of the box is heavy with dread, and you can only find solace in the fact she didn't refer to it as ‘happy’ memories.

Once sufficiently out of sight, you take to grasping the lid. But you couldn't bring yourself to remove it.

Too many memories. All of them are rushing in and filled with conflicting feelings that would surely crush you. The fear and selfishness of the broken promises and unfulfilled desires would throw you off your game.

With a little too much enthusiasm, you stuff the box of the cat plushie into your bag.

Most likely to stay forgotten and distant from the present you're facing.

Scratching it off harder than the rest, you get to the last errand.

Refill supplies

A smart and mature move considering how you used the whole Medkit during the chase. The soggy bandages and washed away ointment really hurt your heart and wallet.

Revisiting the same shops you went to the first time proved to be ineffective. Either they were completely sold out or no longer supplying them.

Forced to visit more stores, you had to walk around the city a lot more than you cared to. Each store had one of the two situations, and the skittish actions of everyone around you were just the cherry on top.

At one point you even tried to buy the individual items separately, and even that failed.

It's not like you could just wait till next week for the first shipment. You weren't even sure you would live till then.

Eventually, you found yourself sulking on the lower docks, turning the situation around in your head.

If only you lived in Liyue for a little longer, maybe you could have found some of the hidden shops. Befriend a store owner and get a hidden one.

Just who the hell would even go out of their way to get every medical first aid part when it's such a crucial item for so many people in this era?

A name finally comes to mind and your expression sours at the thought. Not that you’d let it show, Celestia knows how many guards are watching you at this moment-

A sudden, rapid series of taps on your shoulder has you spinning around in surprise.

A young boy stands before you. The clothes he wears has visible wear and tear as the fabric frays from the edges. Yet you can't help but think you might have seen him before.

Placing a finger on his lips, he uses his other hand to grab hold of your elbow and tug you along.

Surprised but not suspicious of the kid, you let him lead you deeper into the docks. The dark red of his eyes seem to glow within the shadows as his dirty blond hair acts as your beacon of light.

The smell of fresh fish turns rotten, and the dirt caked under his fingernails stains your clothes. The complete and straight planks become jagged and creaky as you follow him farther.

But you stayed silent.

You recognized a path to the seedy part of the city when you see it.

Instead, you examine the younger boy with a critical eye and finally connect the dots. He must be one of the kids you saved with Yiran.

A smirk creeps up your face. It seems you managed to use your time wisely in making connections after all.

Following along the twists and turns, you don't worry too much about the Millelith. Most of the guards probably couldn't even get this far. If you had to guess, it would only be the detectives who could keep up.

It's not like the hidden underworld of cities as popular as Liyue Harbor are any big secret to them.

Stalls and various shops fill the area as flickering lanterns and other extra lighting give you a wider view.

Multiple people call out to the boy as he silently waves to them. The gaze of the homeless and shady people around aren't warm, but aren't hostile either.

Not that you were exactly expecting a warm welcome, but at least you didn't have to worry about sudden personality changes.

Money could buy you information, but it wouldn't buy you trust in these parts.

He finally stops at a little nook in the corner of the area. The door is worn down with scratches and marks yet the light you can see under it is warm.

Silent as before, he points at you, then to the rows of shops in a sweeping motion before stopping at the door.

Pinching your brows in slight confusion, you chew on the gestures to understand it. High-pitched laughter that suspiciously sounds like children eases into your ears as the boy squirms in place.

“Did you want me to knock on the door when I'm done shopping? That you'll lead me back to the surface?”

It was the only thing that you can think of. And despite your hesitation, the boy nods, clearly relieved that you understood the message.

He must truly be mute, no doubt from whatever horrors he must have faced that lead to the scars poorly hidden by mud on his arms.

You were thankful either way. Just leading you here was great but getting an exit too was even better. Now you could avoid getting mugged and/or murdered on your way back.

“Thanks man, I'll be quick.” With that, you walk away, already following the invisible path to the shops that caught your eye.

As much as you would have liked to explore the various items and weapons they had, you didn't want to keep the kid waiting.

After having to buy a rather expensive medical kit, a minor downside to finding the first medical anything since you left Bubu’s pharmacy, you pick up a minor stitching case.

You could have really used one during your latest and probably not last chase. Stuffing it into your bag, as people eye the magical item with desire, you quickly find the home.

Getting to the door, you step closer than before and take note of the older voice. A woman that's chuckling, and a lingering sense of guilt invades your mind.

Quickly rapping your knuckles on the wood, you step away as the home goes dead quiet.

Multiple little eyes peer at you from windows below you as you lazily grin and wave. They all scatter as giggling resumes and the sound of playing returns.

But not the woman’s voice. You didn't expect it to. It's hard to face the only person you've poured your raw wounds from a child's death to.

The kid finally steps out with multiple clicks of locks echoing around the small space. Smiling, you take no offense to the action. You weren't here for trust, and they weren't helping you out of it either.

His crimson eyes glisten with interest at your bag. He wants his pay, and you're more than happy to oblige.

Stuffing your hand into the bag, you feel the familiar clink of Mora gathering in your hand. Pulling it out, you place an appropriate amount into the pouch he already has prepared.

When you drop it all, he takes it closer to him and picks up a piece. The first thing he does is try to bite it, and the familiar memory of you testing coins the same way makes you smile sadly.

Counting the Mora, he frowns, clearly displeased with the amount. He holds his hand out, and you can feel the other children’s stares digging into you.

“I'm going to give you two things that aren't Mora, okay? But you have to keep it a secret.”

He narrows his eyes, no doubt suspecting you of being a shady person. That's probably why he brought you here first and demanded payment before returning you.

Like this, he has back up and cornered you further into payment of his choosing.

“Do you have a cooking pot?”

He frowns in confusion before nodding slowly. Lifting one finger in a pause motion, before heading back inside his home.

He returns while holding a clean cooking pot. It doesn’t take long before he places it over the open fire you already started.

Small eyes follow your every step as you dig out ingredients from your bag. Mentally going over the ingredients you had originally prepared for your celebration feast if you survived tonight, you drop them into the pot.

4 ham, 3 crabs, 3 shrimp meat, and 3 matsutake potatoes are dropped in.

Turning around, you count to five as the boy gives you a confused stare. But you only wink at him before turning around to look at the pot, as his eyes widen at the sight.

Adeptus’ Temptation sits innocently in the pot as the rich aroma wafts around the area, drawing curious hungry eyes.

Leaning down, you whisper to the boy.

“Get your friends and bring the pot back into your house quickly. This food is blessed and safe as you watched the whole process. I suggest you let the sickly and injured children eat first.”

He looks between you and the pot with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he can't trust you too much, but even the smell of the food was clearly tempting him.

It's the shuffling of feet getting closer that makes him bang on the door, signalling for the other children to come out and help him bring it inside.

By the time the shabby adults come into view, it's just you and the boy ‘talking’ as they grumble and turn around.

The kid still looks displeased. You don't blame him completely, since how can he trust that the food you cook isn't spiked with anything nefarious.

You're not even sure if it can heal people that aren't acolytes. It doesn't work on you after all.

At least they'll all enjoy a hot meal, even if it doesn't work.

Sighing, you take out your last resort from your bag, sadly selecting it and pulling it out. The secret weapon you've been saving since your time in Inazuma.

The colorful assortment of candy wrappers makes the kid’s eyes sparkle with the childlike glee that was absent since you met him. Probably long before you met him.

“It's not just Liyue candy, some are even from Inazuma.” The thought of giving up your hard-earned candy hurt you, but you let it go. 

The candy you squirreled away during the Inazuma festival, and the discount ones you bought at cheap prices at Liyue’s markets, were both never going to be eaten anyway.

His hands reach out to snatch the candy greedily from you but you raise it out of reach at the last second. He stomps his foot in childish indignation as you chuckle.

“Sorry, but I need you to bring me back to the outside before you scam me out of any more goodies.”

Finally giving up, he grabs your elbow again and leads you back through the streets. You enjoy the sights as he leads you zigzagging through the stalls.

You can't help but wonder if any detectives are still watching your boring little interactions. Admittedly, you played into the kid's desires more then you had to.

But you couldn't stop yourself from doing so when all you could see in him was yourself when you were that height.

The sun comes into light as the dim lanterns fade away. Like this, you can see his features once more as the stomping of soldiers return.

His eyes scan the area at the sound, but he keeps his hands open for the sweet treats. Smiling, you drop the candy into his open palms before he rushes off with a beaming boyish grin.

Stretching as you walk up the planks to the surface, you finally cross off the last item and drop it into the nearby trash can.

You try to ignore how it disappears when you turn the corner.

------------------------------------

Time ticks down slowly, and you aren't looking forward to seeing Madam Ping just yet. Besides, you made a long-overdue promise to someone else beforehand.

Starting up at the somewhat hidden Funeral Parlor, you push the door open with a casual; “Hey, I'm here to meet up with the Director of this fine and totally not macabre establishment.”

The receptionist blinks at your sudden words before a cheery voice responds from behind her.

“You sure took your time, Y/N. I almost wondered if you up and died before I got a chance to have you purchase one of our very convenient and practical deals!”

Yet again, Hu Tao was right on the money about you being close to death. Idly, you wonder if you look half as dead as you feel.

The receptionist is more than happy to slip away as her boss bounds up to you with that elemental ghost hovering around her.

Flower pupils stare into your eyes, giving you a vague sense of unease as Hu Tao examines you from various angles. 

“Yup, yup! Just as I suspected. You are in desperate need of escape, and it seems the only way you'll be getting it is in death. My honest suggestion is that you buy a coffin from us and lead a hedonist lifestyle to enjoy the few years you have left.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” You dryly respond as she nods approvingly. 

“A business needs to be honest for it to succeed in the long-term. Trust of the customers is one of the biggest key factors.”

Not willing to argue on a topic you were admittedly clueless on, you follow her deeper into the Parlor.

“Then you got any good deals for a traveling adventurer like me who could be dead halfway across the world?”

She sighs, exaggerating it to the utmost while circling you. “I thought deeply on the topic and while the Wangshsng Funeral Parlor has grown enough to reach all of Liyue and a good amount of Mondstadt and Sumeru, we still haven't grown enough to pair up with each region.”

Passing by multiple doors, your eyes scan for a clue on where she was leading you.

“But considering you're the most eager customer I've had concerning their own death, I decided to present you with a special deal.”

“Wouldn't suicidal people also be enthusiastic in this topic?”

“They're usually more focused on the moment and their own afterlife, instead of the corpse they leave behind. Besides-!”

Whipping around to look at you with a knowing grin, she lays a hand decorated in rings on the handle.

“You aren't that far from being called a suicidal person yourself, Y/N!”

Before you can question her on those words, she swings the door open to show multiple rows of various coffins.

“The special offer I'm giving you is to purchase a coffin and I will personally escort your wandering soul to the border for proper peace.”

Tearing your eyes from the admittedly impressive collection of varying caskets, you have the sense to ask her a question. “So, what's the point in me buying a coffin if my body ends up in the waters of Fontaine? And how could I even trust that you have the ability to escort souls?”

From what you remember, Hu Tao should have no clue about your oracle status, so logically you should act oblivious to her connection with the border. Would you even be able to cross the border? It’s not like you were born on Teyvat like her other customers.

Unless Zhongli told her, but that would require more of an explanation on his behalf that he wouldn't want to do. 

“Very good question, dear customer!” She spins around to face you once more, her long twin tails swinging during the motion.

“Even if your body is irretrievable for whatever reason, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor will deem your casket full after I guide your soul.”

The atmosphere visibly shifts after she speaks. The room darkens as the lanterns flicker, her back lowers in a familiar position as a cold phantom touch caresses your hand.

“You of all people should know why and how I'm able to guide souls. After all, I wouldn't expect anything less from an Oracle of the Creator.”

A crooked grin makes its way to your face as goosebumps raise on your skin. Hu Tao’s ‘threatening’ words of knowing your identity were like the sweetest song to your ears.

Finally, all your hard work in creating connections and stabilizing your identity has paid off. Acolytes you've barely begun conversing with already see you as an Oracle.

“Should I applaud you or something, Director? Or should I just accept the deal and make us both happy?”

Hu Tao laughs at your words as you take confident strides to stand by her side.

“I would appreciate the second option much more!” Signature flower pupils drink your smiling visage in with delight before her hand grasps yours in a tight hold.

“Now, if you will, I'll introduce all these amazing coffin and casket types for you to ask about and choose between.”

There's no time to protest, not that you would as she pulls you along excitedly as butterflies made of Pyro brush against your cheek.

------------------------------

Somehow you and Hu Tao had managed to look at every single coffin type in existence. A style, color and even additional design to it has already been decided.

You're just left with choosing the best wood for it.

Hu Tao wanted to stay with you throughout the whole process, but an important matter came up again, making her complain loudly as she left.

But before she did, she insisted on sending one of her employees to help you in choosing, as ‘the wood is a vital part of the process!’. 

So now you're left waiting in the absolutely quiet room, with only the sound of your own breathing accompanying you.

Looking down at the two coffins made of different wood, you waited for this employee. A small smirk played on your lips as you heard the door audibly click shut.

The thumping of shoes coming closer was silent, but the slight hitch of breath gave away how close your new consultant was.

“White cedar wood and Teck wood are both very fine choices. Though I would consider the Catalpa wood two rows down to be the best choices considering your position.”

Hot air fans your skin as the knowledgeable words spoken in that low timber light your nerves aflame.

Turning around, you look into amber eyes that remain steadfast on your face. His outfit is pristine and there's not a single evidence of the battle he was left to fight on him.

“If that answers your last question for the coffin customization, then would you mind stepping outside with me?”

Waving your hand, you dismiss his words without hesitation. “We can do so after I check out the Catalpa wood you recommended.”

Your head angles to the side to look at him with a teasing grin. “I know it's your retirement, but you of all people should know that rushing a job is never good.”

A long-suffering sigh leaves Zhongli as you walk away to the Catalpa coffin, before he follows you. 

More than happy to kill time like this, you feel the wood under your fingertips in a smooth stripe.

“Catalpa wood was and is still often used as an outer coffin for the jade inner coffin that Liyue officials were buried in. Not only can it be carved fluidly, but it is also very resistant to decay, unlike other ornamental wood. Its stability is quite underrated, with only the drying to be a tad problematic. And even that will be for us to deal with.”

Vaguely you wonder if this information was inserted into the game based off China’s own history or if Teyvat really did age throughout many years to build its own history.

“That’s why I recommended this type of wood to you. While you’re not officially a member of the Qixing or other affairs, your position of oracle is enough to warrant such a valued coffin.”

“Are you trying to convince me to buy it for your job, or are you trying to flatter me for your proposal?”

“You may see it as both, neither, or one of the two. I'm simply here as the consultant. I am to assist you with all of your decision-making inside this building.”

A huff of laughter leaves you before you tap on the casket. “Then I'll go along with what you want and take this wood.”

Zhongli nods, not bothering to write it down as his memory must be far greater than you care to imagine. 

His gloved hand is displayed to you in a silent question, but before you can move, he removes the glove.

Quizzically, you raise an eyebrow before placing your hand on his now bare one. Peering at his face from your place you note the slightest blush on his otherwise composed expression.

Smiling to yourself, you allow his fingers to intertwine with your own as he guides you out of the side door. Following him blindly up the staircase, past a set of rooms, another staircase till you finally arrive at the roof.

Zhongli squeezes your hand one last time, clearly relishing in the touch of your calloused fingertips before letting you go.

“I've waited patiently for you, Y/N. What is your answer to my marriage proposal?”

His eyes stare at yours with unshakable firmness. In a sense, it's endearing, and you make it clear by smiling widely.

“It's a no from me.” That resolute expression cracks and his mouth drops open before it's slammed shut at your bright laughter.

But even his poorly concealed embarrassed expression can't smother the blood rushing to his cheeks as his ears hang onto every addictive note that leaves your lips.

This has taken a long time. Like super long. I haven't dropped this series, just have lots of school work to complete and exams to study for. Like I literally have one tomorrow. My editor did me a solid and highlighted the parts that I had to fill in after I gave the mostly completed document for editing. When I have to write the next chapter, it'll take a bit as I gotta reread for recalibration. Taglist is open as always!

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[01zfan]

dragon teeth | l. sh

singer!sohee x bartender!reader | 13.8k words

sohee installment of my rock the house seriez. Dragon Teeth makes music that sounds like the album Welcome Interstate Managers by Fountains of Wayne and this fic is heavily inspired by the song Hackensack on that album! hope you guys enjoy!

contains: semi public sex (in a car in an empty parking lot late at night), protected sex, fwb, biting and mentions of cannibalism (NOT LITERALLY), unhappy ending

Sohee unfortunately always had a dream for his life that was bigger than himself. When he turned one and he had his doljabi ceremony he crawled right past the graduation cap, the piggy bank, and ruler to go straight for the microphone. His mom described the party going completely silent. In a room full of doctors and lawyers Sohee grabbed the plastic toy microphone and refused to let go. In the pictures from that day his parents had completely straight faces while holding a smiling Sohee that was gumming on the plastic head of the toy.

Sohees’ family thought he would grow out of his dreams of becoming a singer. They thought that as he grew older and he realized how tough the world truly was he would choose a job that kept a roof over his head and food on the table. He swore that was the reason why his parents moved to a place that was simultaneously in the middle of nowhere but so close to the big city. Sohee believed that they thought that the mundane suburbs and the frigid winters would take away his voice. But he taught himself to tune the instrument in his throat and project his voice through the falling snow and sing through the cold that bit the back of his throat. Sohee did well in school despite not caring for anything outside of singing. He did it as a sign of respect to his parents and to show them that he was fully capable of excelling academically, he just didn’t want to do it. 

When he learned to drive sophomore year of highschool, the first thing Sohee did was get a job at a record store. The record store was at the midpoint between his house and the city. He worked there during the weekends, sitting at the cash register as he did his homework and watched the people coming in and out. The record store was where he met the two other members of his band. Seunghan was the only regular that never bought anything, he only constantly browsed and examined the same records Sohee had in his home. Sohee eventually started a conversation with him, sharing a rhetorical finally made a choice? when Seunghan bought his first vinyl. After playful banter they hit it off, and then a week later came Wonbin.

Wonbin was the one who technically started the band. He came into the record store asking if he could put up a flyer. LOOKING FOR VOCALIST AND BASS GUITAR was typed in the most punk-esque font available with Wonbin’s number as a detachable tab at the bottom. Sohee told Wonbin he knew a guy and the rest was history. The three of them discovered together that they had had an affinity for music and plans beyond their boring hometown (except Wonbin, because he was actually born and raised in the city).

By the time sophomore year was coming to an end Sohee, Wonbin, and Seunghan had a band and they would meet after Sohee’s shifts to practice. 

Being in such a close proximity to music made Sohee believe that he was working towards his goal of becoming a musician. But when his lemon broke down on the freeway and his parents refused to go out of their way to take him to work Sohee was forced to quit. 

He no longer had a job and nothing to remind him what he was working towards. the first weekend he spent at the family dinner table was shrouded in a tense silence. Sohee stared at his plate of jjambbong, wishing that he lived in a place where there were more options than hot stew to try and beat the cold. Despite his inner turmoil, Sohee’s families dishware hit their bowls all the same, dinner did not stop for his pity party. The only acknowledgement Sohee got of his struggle was his Dad clearing his throat from the spice before looking to his son.

“If you’re looking for a job, the new guy stopped showing up a week ago.” Sohee’s dad took another sip of his soup while Sohee clutched his hand tighter around his spoon. “His job needs to be filled.” He said.

Despite having being extremely weak, only weighing 140 pounds when soaking wet with shoes on, and being a blue collar workers worse nightmare, Sohee thought he had the upper hand in the situation. He never once thought for a second his Father was offering him a stable job out of pity. Sohee only ignored the offer, telling himself I’ll take my talents somewhere else. That night he rang Seunghan and Wonbin on his Nokia 7650 and told them they have to get serious about the band. At the top of Sohee’s mental list was making a demo, then right under that was finding an agent and selling a million records then selling out shows. When Wonbin yelled into the receiver With what money? Sohee added getting gigs to the top of the list.

That’s what led Sohee to the stage. Except the stage wasn’t a sold out show at Madison Square Garden, it wasn’t the Apollo Theater or Radio City Music Hall, it wasn’t even the standing room at Irving Plaza. Sohee, Seunghan, and Wonbin were on the small wooden stage performing to the usual Friday night crowd at his local dive bar. 

The three yellow lights that shined on him and his bandmates were blinding. In the beginning when they didn’t know what to do about the lights and they were still nervous about performing in front of others, Wonbin and Seunghan would be so blinded by the light that they would play the wrong notes. They eventually learned to play with their eyes closed, or to move around the stage so the lights beamed on their shoulders instead of their eyes. Sohee however refused to back down to the light, he learned that he had to point his eyes downward and furrow his brows to alleviate the brightness. 

The view of the men in their business suits wasn’t much better than the light blinding him. The way they sat in their leaning bar stools with backs facing the band was almost abysmal. The trio still fought hard for the attention of grown men who couldn’t care less, even if there was less than five feet of space separating them from the wooden stage they performed on. They sang songs to try and get the most amount of tips. Pop was last week, which only earned chump change and boos from the contractors with dirty and rough hands. The week before that was RnB, which only a few seemed to enjoy. What always earned the band the most money was performing sad dreary songs that matched the mood of the bar. Sohee sang the lyrics to an old sad rock song while looking at the exposed asscracks of the swaying drunk men in front of him. 

God this was depressing. 

Sohee didn’t know why he always found himself at this dingy bar. There were plenty of other bars in his hometown, ones filled with young adults that wanted to have a good time instead of middle aged men that hated their lives and were stingy with their pocket change. Sohee’s bandmates knew it too. Each week Wonbin would groan and Seunghan would roll his eyes before saying that place, again? All three of them knew that they’d be better off trying to raise funds for studio time by working for Sohee’s dad. But the hours were even worse than this and they had no skill or the means to do good when it came to manual labor. 

“What other choice do we have?” Sohee would always reason.

(They had plenty of other choices; all three of them knew it.)

But Sohee ignored the shortcomings of the bar for the most part. He told himself there was some sort of midwest-on-the-east-coast charm that no other place had. Because of his hometowns proximity to the big city there was always a sort of disingenuous aura that circled many places the younger crowd frequented. Bars wanted to be like the city without being in the city, and it always seemed pitiful. Also the chance of running into someone they graduated with made all three of them feel physically ill. The important thing was that Dragon Teeth prided itself on being authentic, and there was nothing more authentic than the dive bar off the highway in a rural town that smelled like smoke and served the working class. 

Sohee always told himself he’d miss the bar when he eventually made it big. Maybe he’d reference it in a song or talk about it on a podcast in twenty years or mention it in his autobiography. He’d talk about the perpetually broken jukebox that only played Neon Moon by Brooks & Dunn, the squeaky seats that all leaned to the side, and the pretty bartender that he sang songs for.

You and Sohee came up side by side throughout public school. In a small town, you ended up going to school with the same people your whole life. the people you sat by in kindergarten you would end up seeing at your graduation, with both parties pretending like they didn’t grow up parallel to eachother. So Sohee knew of you, but he didn’t necessarily know you. He knew the basics, like your anime phase in fifth grade, and the indie rock band phase in seventh grade. He knew that you went through a terrible breakup your freshman year, but not as bad as the falling out with your friend group junior year. Sohee knew that you took messy notes but had tidy handwriting and you always had your phone within arms reach.

Sohee told himself he would finally speak to you senior year when you were assigned to the same table first period, because who the hell gives seating assignments to seniors? the proximity he had to you was nothing less than fate. 

Sohee remembered showing up to class early the next day waiting for you to come through the door. He shifted in his plastic red seat a million times expecting to see you trudge through the open door. But when the bell rang and the teacher started doing role call to a half empty classroom Sohee suddenly realized that no senior who had a car would come to a meaningless first period class.

Because of your absence permanent absence in class, Sohee only saw you in passing—another benefit about going to a small public school—until graduation. But there was no way he was going to talk to you and stop the flow of traffic in the double space hallway. What he wanted with you either had to be through a painfully awkward interaction in class that would be interrupted by the teacher or nothing at all. So he let bygones be bygones, he let you pass by him on your way to the classes you actually attended and before he knew it, he had graduated. Sohee saw you with your family for the first time, and he found out through a senior ceremony that you had the same plan he did after graduation—absolutely nothing.

But unlike you, Sohee told himself that he was keeping his big plans a secret. Only him and the other members of Dragon Teeth knew that they planned on becoming a famous indie band that was going to sell out arenas and sell a bajillion records. The only thing that was stopping them was their lack of a demo tape, a record label, and an actual band name (Dragon Teeth was just a stand in, but Sohee was working hard to change the minds of Seunghan and Wonbin). 

Sohee ended up at the dive bar because his band needed the extra funds. Just when the temperature started dropping and the reality of studio cost time started setting in, they remembered that they needed money to run a band.

In the beginning they performed at any bar that would take them. The trio would play whatever songs to get the most amount of money, even if it came at the cost of their musicality. They sacrificed being seen as serious musicians to take song requests, no matter how ridiculous. They jumped from place to place, collectively agreeing that they were becoming skeeved out from the band they were becoming. 

The three of them would’ve never thought that they’d find authenticity at the rundown dive bar off the highway. Initially the three of them thought the place was abandoned. No signage on the bar indicated sign of life other than the flashing WE’RE OPEN sign. 

“Can’t be worse than The Goalpost.” Wonbin said hopefully.

Sohee and Seunghan nodded while leaving Wonbin’s car. They had a plethora of terrible experience at The Goalpost. The three of them frequented the bar due to the amount of tips they would receive, but it always came with a price. There was a time when a girl threw up in Wonbin’s guitar case right as they were done for the night and there were several instances of drunk college students stealing Sohee’s microphone acting like it was karaoke night. The most recent event—and the one that drove them away from The Goalpost entirely—was the random bar fight  over two rival colleges that ended with the police being called and Seunghan getting punched in the face. They silently recalled suddenly being caught in the middle of people screaming while they sang We Are The Champions. Sohee remembered pressing a piece of raw meat to Seunghan’s face thinking it would cure his incoming black eye as they got closer and closer to the bar. The rotting wood of the steps slightly gave underneath their feet, the only thing that willed them forward was remembering the bar owner of The Goalpost trying to take a portion of their earnings.

“Can’t be worse than The Goalpost.” Seunghan echoed.

Wonbin nodded and reached forward towards the door. Immediately when he applied pressure to the rusty handle of the door it leaned so far forward it almost broke off it’s hinges. Wonbin yelped and pulled even harder on instinct, forcing Sohee and Seunghan to quickly press their hands to the chipping wood to keep it anchored to the wall. For a moment the three of them were caught in limbo, with Wonbin pulling on the door while Sohee and Seunghan pushed.

“Just let it lean!” An annoyed voice yelled from inside the bar.

When quiet laughter followed and they realized they made fools of themselves, the three of them took their hands timidly away from the door. They flinched in unison when it started leaning further and further to the ground, but it came to a slow creaking stop with just enough space for the three of them to slink through. The three of them inched past the door, all of them terrified the door was going to give in and close on them.

From outside, it was easy to tell that the bar wasn’t very well lit. Besides the flickering WE’RE OPEN sign and a dim blue light that could be seen through the window there was nothing that could be seen from the outside. But being inside the bar was significantly worse. Anything past his mid-calf was swallowed by darkness. The only indication that they were even stepping on the ground was the slight stick underneath the soles of his shoes. The primary lighting was from the purple and blue hues of the jukebox and the illumination from the ancient tiny television that seemed to be on a permanent rerun of sports. There was a communal remote for the television, sitting atop the bar in front of the limited and extremely vintage six dispenser tap machine (there were plastic bags covering the two taps in the middle, so it was really four). 

Even in the dark, everything looked like it creaked or was sticky or both. There was no stage, there were barely people occupying the barstools and chairs. Patrons were coming and going, all of them passed Sohee and his two confused bandmates as they gravitated towards their seats. Everyone seemed to know where they were going, drifting towards their unofficial assigned seats as they looked towards the television.  They seemed alarmingly content in the stuffy atmosphere of the bar. No one paid attention to the band outside of their run-in with the door. As if nothing happened everyone went back to nursing their beers and sitting around in complete silence.

“This is actually much worse than The Goalpost.” Wonbin said outloud. No one turned in their seats, Sohee swears he even heard someone make a sound of agreement.

“Lucky’s is going to open soon,” Sohee started turning towards the still open door. “if we hurry we might be able to perform there for the night.” He said.

Seunghan and Wonbin nodded, casting one more glance at the dark bar before turning following behind their leader. 

Sohee was so close to escaping. Later that week Sohee would be told by Anton that Lucky’s was packed and there was a large party of people looking for a band to play Taylor Swift. Anton told Sohee that they were throwing money around like it was a strip club while they did karaoke on their open tabs. That night at Lucky’s would’ve bought them studio time three times over, but right as they were about to push through the leaning door you came from the cramped back of house with beer glasses in your hands.

“Is that Lee Sohee?” You said.

Sohee turned around slowly, seeing that his bandmates were already frozen. Sohee was the last of his band to see you in the flesh, standing behind the bar looking at him. You set the beer glasses on the wooden bar in front of you, and for the first time that night he had the attention of everyone in the bar. He was a deer caught in the headlights and you were behind the car, mouth agape before turning into a smile.

“What brings you here?” You continued.

Like a spotlight had shined directly on him, Sohee was at a loss for words. Everyone in the bar still had their eyes on him, even Wonbin and Seunghan turned to look at him. He was blessed that in the darkness of the bar no one could see the red on the tip of his nose or his ears. All anyone saw was Sohee sheepishly look towards his two bandmates before clearing his throat.

“We perform at bars—”

“Our jukebox literally broke last night!” Sohee watched you put your hands on the bar and lean forward towards him. For a moment he’s taken back to first period, how he missed having you beside him all year. “And here you three are the next day—almost like it’s fate.” You said smiling.

You said it’s fate—how could Sohee possibly go anywhere else? 

His bands permanent residence started that night. The Goalpost and Lucky’s didn’t stand a chance when he saw your eyes light up. When you nodded quickly after Sohee offered to add ambience to the bar—despite Wonbin and Seunghans’ clear faces of shock—he knew they would be spending as much time as they could there.

Sohee went from barely seeing you to having you partially at his disposal seven nights a week. He never brought up that he knew so much about you, but he was on the receiving end of your care. Sohee watched you offer free drinks for a year to whoever built a stage for his band to perform on. Within the week the wooden stage was erected and even had enough room and spacing to account for the instruments and cords on the rare occasion Wonbin brought out his electric guitar. 

Sohee wondered if you were keeping your big life plans a secret like he was. One night when it wasn’t busy and you didn’t have to run around to tend to your customers, he leaned over the bar one night and got extra close to you to feign closeness and privacy when he asked you about your plans. You truly seemed taken aback by his question, only giving him a shrug as you pulled on the Brotherton IPA tap. 

”I’m not too sure.” You said while avoiding eye contact. “I haven’t thought about it too much.”

In the awkward silence Sohee realized the rest of his conversation was contingent on your answer. He was grasping at nothing, the moment to talk to you was fleeting as the beer glass was almost filled to the top.

“My band is going to do really well.” He spoke quickly trying to fill in the gap. When you looked up at him from the tap he only doubled down. “We are gonna sell a bunch of records and sell out shows.” Sohee said.

“Oh really?” You asked with amusement. 

Sohee averted his eyes down to the beer glass as you pushed the creaky tap back up to it’s original position. He felt a strong sense of pride having your full attention, you only gave the person who ordered the beer a simple head nod as you stayed focused on him. 

Maybe he was partially at fault for your non-answers. He didn’t know whether to believe your lack of plans or not, but he never had the chance to ask you what you were saving all your money for because he had the tendency to ramble off about his band in your presence. It was especially hard to find the time to pry about your personal life when he only got the chance to see you alone in the confines of your car before proceeding to do what you always did on nights you worked and he sang for you.

Nights when you would close the bar and Sohee would perform—which was almost every night—had almost become a routine. After you gave Sohee the signal for last call his band would perform one final song. After Seunghan or Wonbin thwarted Sohee’s attempt to say the band’s name (tonight it was Wonbin. He cleared his throat obnoxiously into the microphone so feedback was over Sohee saying This was Dragon Teeth) the band would pack up their things and get ready to go. The band would work around the microphone stands and the wires onstage to pack up their instruments while the stragglers left the bar. Occasionally they would get more tips on their way out. Crumpled dollar bills would find their way into Wonbin’s guitar case or placed on Sohee’s hands by sweaty palms. Sohee would replay the gruff keep up the good work kid as he handed the tip money to Wonbin for safe keeping. Only after you turned the lights on would the final person sway out of the bar and bid his drunk final regards. 

Each time the regular lights went up Sohee would have to squint his eyes in an effort to adjust. He’d always be shocked about how abysmal the place looked when everything lit up. The dark brown finish of the bar had countless scratches and water stains from people who didn’t use coasters, the tables were all different colors and uneven on one side at the very least, and every single piece of wall decoration had a yellow tint from age. You were the only redeeming thing in the place and Sohee more often than not found himself looking at you instead of packing his things up. By the time his bandmates were leaving the bar he was only halfway done, instead focused on watching you wipe off the bar counter and tabletops. When Seunghan and Wonbin were making their way to the exit, Sohee was watching your focused face count the tills.

“Sohee.” 

He was never sure if it was Wonbin or Seunghan calling his name, he would just look to them with their instrument cases in hands and defeated looks on their faces as they flicked their heads through the door.

“You coming or what?” Seunghan asked.

All the way to the car, Sohee would act like he would be joining them. But when they made it to Wonbin’s beat up 2000 Honda Accord, Sohee would always have an excuse lined up. Sohee would look his friends dead in the face and lie saying I forgot my mic pack, She’s going to give us our tips,or I forgot to ask her if we are good for tomorrow. Anything to avoid telling his bandmates She’s going to give me a ride home because we have sex in her car every night, remember? 

Without fail, Wonbin and Seunghan would only shrug before loading up in the silver car and heading home. Sohee didn’t know if they thought there was something going on and even if it never got in the way of the bands activities he still felt guilty for it. He was the de facto leader of Dragon Teeth due to him being the main vocalist and the one who was essentially in charge of getting the gigs. Sohee often wondered while waiting for you to finish closing if he would be kicked out of the band in the instance Wonbin and Seunghan found out about you two. They had no reason to give Sohee the boot, but when Sohee felt extra guilty he would always help them load their things into Wonbin’s trunk and make plans for the band the next day.

“Let’s meet at Wonbin’s house around noon and finish writing that song.” Sohee said after slamming the trunk closed.

“I work at the cafe tomorrow.” Wonbin rubbed his eyes with both of his hands before finishing the rest of his sentence. “Not off ‘till one.” He said.

Seunghan was already in the passenger seat leaning it back to take a nap. Sohee nodded before changing the plans to start at three, earning a tired yes from his bandmates. Wonbin got up from leaning against the side of his car car to go inside. The old thing came to life right next to Sohee and he acted like he was considering getting inside. Sohee felt his heart begin to race in its cage, as he watched Wonbin roll down the window and raise his eyebrows at him.

“What are you doing?” Wonbin asked.

His bandmates voice was already deep from exhaustion and annoyance. Sohee knew better than to push his buttons so he gave up the theatrics quickly. He ignored the hammering in his chest to lean down o eye level with Wonbin as his fingers anxiously tapped on the window. He saw that Seunghan’s head was already lulled to the side as he snored loudly.

“I’m gonna stay behind. She closed later than usual so i’m a li—”

“Alright.” Wonbin interrupted Sohee before he could give a half-assed reason why. “Text me when you get home.” He said.

Before Sohee could even reply, he watched Wonbin’s window back up as he was looked behind him to back out of the parking space. Sohee backed away from the car waved goodbye before Wonbin turned out of the parking lot and left completely.

When Wonbin’s taillights were out of sight, Sohee was completely still for a moment. He looked at your lonely car in its secluded parking space then back to the bar. There was fleeting thought in his mind that he should’ve gone home with his bandmates. But he was shamefully uninterested in sitting in silence with Wonbin and Seunghan when he could be sitting in silence with you. So Sohee kicked the rocks underneath his feet and stuffed his already cold hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he started carefully calculating how long it would take you to finish closing the bar.

Sohee eventually meandered underneath the only functioning lamp post in the basically empty parking lot. He knew that after the sun went down the temperature was going to drop, but it seemed to be getting even colder as he stood outside. He prayed for some sort of warmth underneath the flickering light in the parking lot. His jacket pockets provided little to no relief, and the quick vaporized puffs of air did nothing to warm his body. He tried jumped up and down and moving in place, but any warmth brought to his limbs vanished almost instantly. He looked around to the staff exit before cutting his eyes to the three other lamp posts that had burnt out bulbs and offered no illumination in the dead of night. Sohee walked around the concrete base of the singular working lamp post, he wrapped his hand around the cold metal circumference of the lamppost and spun in a circle like a child. He kicked tiny rocks and checked the time on his tiny phone screen—How long did it take to close down a bar anyway?

When the lamp post he stood under started flickering, Sohee felt himself finally start to get nervous. He thought about the odds of being mugged in this dimly lit parking lot. The chances were slim, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe a drunk and disorderly businessman was lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack. Maybe there was someone sketchy coming off the highway looking for the perfect victim. Sohee looked around suspiciously, waiting for a culprit to pop out from behind a tree trunk or come out from underneath your car. A shiver ran through his body before he pulled his hoodie up over his head, trying to make himself seem bulkier and scarier than he actually was. Sohee took his hands from his pockets to check his phone again.

After he saw only a minute had passed he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and blew warm air into his hands again. When the lamp post flickered again he looked up, praying silently it wouldn’t go out leaving him in complete darkness. Sohee’s eyes also focused on the bugs circling the light and he wondered if the insects were thinking the same thing. They circled the light like it was a life source, a phenomenon that was a scientific mystery—Did they think the light was leading them the way? Were they following the warmth? Were they blinded? Were they looking for an escape?

“Am I a bug?” Sohee wondered out loud.

“What?” 

Sohee turned around at the sound of your voice. Of course he missed you coming out and didn’t hear your feet dragging on the pavement and of course he embarrassed himself in front of you.

“What did you just say?” You repeated. 

When you were in front of Sohee, he noticed that your eyes didn’t tilt upwards to pay attention to the flickering lightbulb. He figured you were used to things breaking and not working so much to the point that it didn’t even register you two were about to be left in complete darkness. You only continued looking at him, with your hip cocked to the side and your head tilted the same way. For the first time in his life, Sohee wished that the lightbulb would suddenly go out. Something about being in complete darkness in the cold was more comforting than being underneath your scrutinizing stare. But was it really scrutiny if you seemed so happy to see him? You looked at him with wonder, but Sohee still felt intimidated as he started rubbing his suddenly not-so-cold hands together. The lamp post seemed to be intimidated too, because the light that was going to burn out any second started shining steadily, maybe even brighter than before. A shiver ran through Sohee’s body as your face was fully lit for him and he remembered he was cold. You did a once over of him, staying on the pulled drawstrings of his hoodie.

“Nothing.” Sohee shook his head when he remembered he was supposed to answer your question. “Just thinking out loud.” He said.

Sohee was able to see your head cocked to the side in confusion only for a moment longer before you walked past him towards your car. He followed after you, looking down at your work crocs that dragged on the paved parking lot and kicked up rocks. He was surprised he didn’t hear you trudge towards him. The work day seemed to weigh down heavily on your entirely body. He watched your shoulders sag as he went to the passenger side and when he looked at you over the top of the car he could see the shadow of forming eye bags. You ruffled in your purse, moving around things that didn’t need to be in there in search of your keys. If it was any of Sohee’s friends, he would’ve started impatiently pulling at the handle in annoyance and complaining about waiting in the cold. But with you he only bounced on his feet to try and stay warm and looked at you.

He didn’t complain nearly as much as he should’ve while around you. The worst part was that he knew had plenty to complain about. 

Both of you got into the car at the same time. You closed your door first and manually put the lock down. Sohee closed his door afterwards and pressed the automatic button on the door. He shuffled in his seat, trying to become comfortable and force his body to warm up as he rubbed his hands together. while you sorted out your things, Sohee stole glances at you trying not to make his looks obvious. Anytime your head would even tilt towards his general direction he would blow hot air into his hands, trying to cover up what he was really doing. 

Sohee watched you put your water bottle in the cupholder before moving your bag towards the feet space of the passenger side. The two of you had done this enough that you made a routine, you didn’t have to tell Sohee excuse me anymore. He knew that your bag wasn’t going in the backseat because it would be occupied soon, and that your bags temporary residency was the space beside his feet. He moved his feet more than he had to without saying a word, and you slipped your purse in space he made for you.

“Thanks.” You said.

Sohee hummed while turning on the light in the front center of your car. The yellow glow filled the space of your dads old 2003 Forester. You often said it was the best thing he’s done for you as a father, arguably the only thing. The car was a shade of deep green except for the gray scrape in its side from when your Mom got in a fight with a shopping cart and lost, but it ran well and had an insane amount of space in the back row of seats. You seemed to like it too, despite it being completely different from the cars girls your age drove. You often referred to the car as your baby and didn’t take kindly to messes. Sohee (as far as he knew—he didn’t know how many men you drove around and he didn’t want to know) was the only person, besides you, that was allowed to eat and drink inside of the vehicle. 

Sohee was also the only person (once again, he hoped) you let fuck you in the backseat. 

He could already see it in your eyes, no longer low from sleep but something arguably far more tiring. From the overhead light Sohee could already see the shine on the glassy surface of your eye. They did quick looks of his whole body, darting from his neck to his hands that were clasped tightly together. 

Even if Sohee felt the same excitement that was written clearly on your entire person, he still leaned against the passenger side door when you put your elbows on the center console to come closer to him. Anytime you rocked slightly closer Sohee felt excitement and panic shoot up his spine at the same time, causing his hair to stand on end.

This was the part of the routine when Sohee would look shyly away from you and fail to hide his smile. An exhale from you would fill the air of your car and then stillness would overtake it. He imagined in this moment you let your tiring day that you compartmentalized come to the surface just so you could kiss and fuck it away. After that, Sohee would still be looking down where his seat and the center console met while he listened to you move around in your thick jacket to compensate for the sudden heat that came across your body. Sohee would wonder to himself what was in the crack of his seat and the center console, wondering if the plastic Casio watch he stole from his sister was still somewhere deep in there. Sometimes he swore he could hear the short beep from a new hour when your car was too silent. Maybe he was imagining things, because you never reacted to the sound. 

When your hand reached across the center console of your car Sohee had to silently remind himself why he hated this town and his life so much. He drew in a deep breath when you pinched at the sleeve of his thin hoodie in a shy and silent command for him to come closer to you.

This town is nothing.

Sohee turned in the passenger seat and planted his hands on the center console. You turned fully in your seat, pressing against your steering wheel to avoid honking the horn.

It’s so disconnected from the arts.

You both slowly started leaning forward. Sohee could feel you hold the fabric of his hoodie a little tighter. Your fingers pressed into his wrist as you lightly pulled him towards you. 

There’s nothing to do here.

Sohee could see his shadow casted on your face as you two invaded eachothers space more and more. He could see the overhead light of your car swimming in your eyes. He imagined how you two looked from the outside, one of the two sources of light in this parking lot. He wondered if anyone off the highway could see you two, if they wondered what was going on inside of a car at this time of night. Sohee’s hand went from the center console to hold your face. You leaned into his palm as your other hand gripped his shoulder.

I hate it here.

Sohee watched you lick your lips and part them slightly. He did the same and waited for impact like you were an asteroid falling from the sky. Sohee was a Quetzalcoatlus, flying freely in the sky not knowing that he was about to die. 

He heard the deep muffled beep in the back of his mind before he opened his partially closed eyes. Sohee suddenly felt the urge to remind himself what he was doing this all for as he pulled away from you slightly.

“How’d I sing today?” Sohee asked.

His attempt to calm the racing thoughts in his mind pulled you from the moment. Sohee felt sick relief at your rapid blinking as you tried registering his question. Seeing the gears turn in your mind gave Sohee enough time to think clearly and stop his heart from jumping out of its cage. His eyes snapped to the dimly lit backseat of your car as you licked your lips again.

“You did amazing.” Your voice was somehow already hoarse as you reached forward and gently pulled at the top of his zipper. “You know you’re my favorite singer.” You said.

This town isn’t all that bad. The winters were manageable and heavy snow storms are one of the few wonders left in the world. There are decent shopping malls and a brewery that has a good scene. There was a cute two bedroom apartment that was also only an hour from Midtown Manhattan, and an hour and fifteen minutes away from the cheapest recording studio in New York (which was upstate in the opposite direction, but that’s besides the point). 

You looked to Sohee’s face one last time before fully focusing on his hoodie. Sohee looked down to your hands that were barely peaking past the sleeve of your oversized jacket as you slowly started unzipping him.

This small town was a hidden gem in America. They sometimes filmed Hallmark movies here. Maybe if I talked to the right people I could land a job making the soundtrack, or at the very least help the person who makes it.

You pulled Sohee’s zipper half way down before you started reaching for your own jacket. The sound of multiple buttons unclasping at once made Sohee realize he had a job to do. He  started working himself out of his own jacket, a rushed hand pulling his zipper down the rest of the way. You were somehow faster, your jacket was off your arms and behind your body by the time Sohee finally took his hoodie off. He was fumbling with his brown leather belt as smiled and kissed his forehead before clearing the center console to head to the backseat.

He couldn’t get the belt off of him no matter how hard he tried. He swore something was holding his belt together, like a tiny invisible elf was holding on the metal that was in the first hole of his held. Sohee always fumbled in moments like these, when he needed his hands the most they seemed to fail him. For a moment he was transported to an embarrassing moment at his sixth grade talent show where he fumbled while trying to play the piano. When he heard the sound of your pants being pulled off your body he got even more impatient. After letting out a deep breath he went to his shirt quickly, pulling his graphic tee off with one hand and throwing it into the drivers seat. His hands went back to the belt after, and the sound of the buckle finally coming loose filled the car with a clanking metal sound.

“Sohee.” He looked behind him to see you reach forward to put your bra in the drivers seat on top of the Star Wars logo printed to his shirt. “Please hurry.” You whined. 

Sohee had his jeans at his ankles in seconds. He pulled his legs out the same time he was clambering over the center console to follow you. When he was situated on the side opposite of you he regained some of his composure back. He patiently pulled his leg out the rest of the way and tossed his jeans diagonally to lay on top of your bra. He reacted to the sound of his belt buckle knocking your window but you did not. Your eyebrow only twitched slightly as you leaned back against the window, and Sohee’s attention was pulled to you entirely. He looked at your perked nipples poke through the material of your tight shirt and the way it rode up to reveal the tiny bow at the top of your panties.

Sohee settled into the door on the opposite side from you. He developed the habit of following your every move, leading to tension that was so thick you could cut it with a knife. He was unmoving, like you were going to pounce any second and you would pinch the fabric of the clothes you still wore. Sohee wondered if it was a nervous habit of yours, if you weren’t always sure he actually wanted you and you were playing with the hem of your tight shirt to distract yourself from your thoughts. Admittedly moments of silence like this when before you two would fuck in your car was entirely too intimate for casual fuck buddies. When you stared at Sohee and he stared back he got the insane urge to tell you that he knows you, and that he wanted to ell you if you ever bothered to come to your first period class senior year. 

(He also wanted to tell you that lately he started hearing you voice in every song about love and every romance movie. He actually had to do a double take when watching Romance & Cigarettes in Wonbin’s apartment because for a split second he thought you were an extra beside Christopher Walken on the busy streets of Queens, New York. He also swore he heard your voice as one of the little sea turtles when he saw Finding Nemo in theaters with his sisters. This was surprisingly harder to disprove because he couldn’t see your face.

He also wanted to tell you that he would spend an eternity just staring at you underneath the dim light of your car before kissing you in the dead of winter, even if it came at the cost of his career. But Sohee knew somethings, especially that thing was better left unsaid. You would unfortunately just have to suffer through short moments of insecurity so Sohee could keep his sanity. 

Yes, he knew it was selfish, but what rockstar isn’t?)

The overhead light made you look like a dream in front of Sohee, and he hated the shadows in the car for obstructing his vision. When you moved in your nipples poking through your shirt turned to shadows, and he could barely see the way your thighs pressed together. He wanted to see you clearly, he wanted to touch you so badly that he had to remind himself of the other things he wanted in his life.

You started scooting towards Sohee’s side of the car and he had to remind himself he wouldn’t be here in a years time. When you placed your hand on his thigh opposite of your body he told himself that he wanted a Grammy. When you started rubbing the soft skin of his inner thigh everything else left his mind, his mental vision board slipped through his fingers like sand.

You kissed his bare shoulders once and Sohee sighed to lean his head against the back row of seats. He lifted the arm that was in between your two bodies and wrapped it around your shoulder to pull you closer to him. You burrowed deeper into Sohee’s side as your lips travelled from his shoulder to his cheek neck. For a moment you stayed there, your lips found its home where his neck and shoulders met. Sohee felt your hot breath fan the area before your lips poked past your cheek and wet the area. Sohee panic response was fully alert, he bent his neck to the side as a reflex when he felt your teeth press into his skin. With a laugh you showed him mercy, and started trailing your lips up the side of his neck. He puckered his lips and kissed the air the same time you would kiss his bare skin. He already seemed lost, he had to close his eyes to remember who he wanted to become. Focusing on anything but you was embarrassing but it was something Sohee had to do to keep the noises he wanted to make at bay. 

His other hand went to your thigh as he tried maneuvering you to come on top of him. You ignored his obvious advances—to ironically distract himself from you with your body—instead moving your hand painfully slow to rest on top of the bulge in his boxers. You let your hand settle deeper on Sohee’s clothed dick, and like a reflex Sohee’s hand on your shoulder tightened its grip.

“Holy shit.” He breathed.

Usually when you two would mess around in your car after your shift, it was one or the other. Either Sohee would get a handjob that was embarrassingly wet and almost humiliating while you were completely clothed and he was completely naked, or you would ride him while you kept only your shirt on and let the seat back so Sohee could pathetically look up at you. So when you stayed in your shirt, and the backseat of your car stayed upright, Sohee foolishly thought he was only going to feel your walls clamp around him tonight. But he felt your hand tighten its grip around the clothed tip of his dick before you worked through the fly of his boxers. Sohee’s hand that cradled your face twitched and his lips faltered when he felt your hand around his dick.

“What are you doing?” He whimpered and bucked his hips just from your hand wrapping around the base of his dick.

Your eyes were already wet a blown out from want when you started slowly jerking him off. Sohee regretfully kept his eyes on you, waiting for an answer as to why you were torturing him. The routine you two made was important, but you were abandoning it just to revel in his pathetic whines and twitching hips. Sohee moved his gaze down to your glossy bottom lip that smirked before being caught between your teeth.

“Feeling sentimental.” You squeezed your hand around his tip and Sohee shook his head from the torture that hurt so good. “You mind if we have a little more fun than usual tonight?” You asked breathlessly

Fun. You had the habit of calling whatever this was in the backseat of your car fun. You confused him the first time you said it to him. He sat in the passenger seat while you eyed him up and down, you were alot more obvious with your attraction than you were now. You brought him in close before asking Do you want to have some fun, you were alot bolder than too. But Sohee gave you grace, he figured saying fun was the perfect middle ground between the casual hookup and the intimacy he (hoped) you reserved only for eachother. But having fun to Sohee was writing music and singing. Having fun was imagining the future and thinking about the track list for his bands debut album. Watching your hand jump underneath the fabric of his boxers was anything but fun. Watching your chest move in your tight shirt and feeling your lips press hasty kisses to his face wasn’t fun. 

He believed this was attempted murder and you were going to kill him.

“What’s wrong?” Your hold on his dick loosened and against his will, once again, Sohee whined and rutted into your hand. “I thought you liked it when I did this.” You said.

You held your head up from resting against Sohee’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. They were large and filled with worry, and Sohee felt his dick jump in his boxers and his heart lurch forward.

He really needs to start keeping track of how many times you tried to kill him.

“No baby, I like it alot.” Honestly Sohee liked it too much—he believed he could get off from you just squeezing the root of his dick and whining in his ear and looking at him. His hips lifted on their own accord again and Sohee had to lean back against the seat to focus on breathing. “Keep going, it feels so good.” He begged.

Sohee drove his point home by reaching his hand that wasn’t holding onto your shoulder for dear life to press into your clothed heat. Instantly he felt your hips preen towards him, so abruptly that you scooted down the seat. You faltered between your kisses to let out a shaky sigh, and Sohee had to open his eyes to stare at the ceiling of your car. He pressed deeper to draw more sound out of you, and you squeezed your hand around his dick to make him squirm more. 

Eventually the teasing became too much and you gave up trying to kiss all together. You just settled further into Sohee’s side as your hands became more rushed. Sohee’s head lulled against your backseat while you seeped through the thin material of your panties. The deeper and deeper his fingers pressed into you the higher your voice and sounds became. When Sohee finally brought the hand that was gripping your shoulders down to your waist to pull your panties to the side. He wasted to time sticking his fingers into your cunt, but hearing your sudden desperate sounds made Sohee’s fingers became erratic. He was being pulled thinner and you jumbled his brain to such an effect that he couldn’t decide between scissoring his fingers inside of you or trying to hit a spot particularly deep. He started doing both in a foggy lust-filled panic, but even when he thought you were on the verge of stopping him and kicking him out of your car he started feeling your drool leak to his bare chest.

“Oh my God.” You mumbled.

Sohee looked down to see your eyes were squeezed shut. Feeling your hips push into his hand was one thing, but seeing it with his own two eyes was an entirely different beast. You were chasing after something Sohee was giving to you when he wasn’t entirely sure himself what he was doing. He only watched you, hoping to etch the scene into his mind forever. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and Sohee felt more precum leak from his tip onto your already sticky hand.

“Oh my God.” He echoed.

He was convinced you were going to kill him. You were going to kill his dreams and aspirations of making it in New York. Sohee was going to end up becoming the manager at the record store he used to work, or end up working for his father. Sohee would end up disbanding Dragon Teeth and using his portion of the earnings for a deposit on an apartment with you. You were going to take away his voice, the naive glint in his eye, and the God complex the same way his Father did to his Mother. 

“I’m close, Sohee. So close.” You started speeding up your hand and Sohee’s own sounds started slipping past his lips. It was almost disgusting hearing the pathetic sounds bounce off the walls of your Dad’s old car. “Are you?” You asked pitifully.

Instead of answering, Sohee used the last of his crumbling strength to bring his hand that was still holding your panties to the side underneath your chin. He lifted your gaze, and the yellow light of your car bathed your face in a warm glow. The light reflected off of your clammy skin as you looked to him with so much want and desperation. For a moment Sohees’ impeding orgasm was banished to the outer realm of his mind as he took in your furrowed eyebrows and glassy eyes.

Arguably it was more disturbing how he would let you take it all away from him. No amount of awards won or sold-out shows could amount to the transparency in your eyes during moments like these. Everything out on the surface, just for him. He wanted to eat you alive and he wanted you to do the same thing to him, and then he wanted to make a song about it.  

Sohee caught your lips on his, pressing deep into your pout like you always did with him. You somehow tasted like the dingy bar, like the warm air and the stale taste of the aging snacks you neatly set out every night. Sohee wanted to see if he could taste the nearly metallic tap water on your tongue so he pushed deeper. When his tongue broke past your lips your whole body froze. He could tell you weren’t used to him taking the lead, but he was also feeling something in the air tonight. You got used to it and accepted him quickly, the same way everyone who lives here gets used to change.

“Right there, Sohee.” You whimpered against his lips and held onto his shoulder a little tighter, pulling him into you.

He was already dead, and he couldn’t care less. He wanted to be buried in your backyard, or maybe underneath your bed. He wouldn’t mind the smell, he hoped it would be the same for you.

Maybe if he was lucky his future child would become a rockstar. During their future acceptance speech for an award they would thank you two, getting teary eyed as they talked about the sacrifice his parents made. Then the camera would cut to you and Sohee, sitting side by side. Your faces would be all wrinkly and your eyes would be dead from working sleepless nights and worrying if your artistic child would make anything of their lives, but you two would be holding hands the same way you were clutching his his now.

After Sohee pulled away, he saw the drool coat your lips and the single line that dribbled down your face. He pressed his fingers against your walls and your whole body started reacting. You pulled Sohee at an angle into you so quickly that his forehead was pressed into the seat beside your head while you started breathing heavily. He wasn’t used to the manhandling from you, or the sudden display of strength but something in him enjoyed feeling your arm wrap around his waist and clutch his shoulder so easily. You completely gave up giving him a handjob, but he didn’t care. He needed to see you finish. So he let you pull him even more as he tried fingering you from the awkward angle. Now it was Sohee’s breath that was fanning the crook of your neck as he tried craning his head to see your face contort in pleasure. Your hand that suddenly pressed into the back of his head kept him there, and Sohee wished he could’ve told you he needed to see your face. But your moans were louder than any voice he could muster, and the way your walls were clenching around his fingers told him he was running out of time. As a consolation prize Sohee licked your neck before pressing his teeth into the wet patch of your skin and biting down. 

Sohee felt your back arch until your chest pressed against his. He pressed back into you, restricting your movement and keeping you in place as he continued working his fingers in and out of you. The slick noises filled the car and Sohee didn’t stop, even when his wrist started screaming at him to do so. He just kept plunging fingers back into your heat as a new wave of you coated his fingers and your legs started shaking. 

Despicably Sohee silently hoped he would draw blood from your neck, maybe if he ripped out a big enough piece of flesh he would kill you before you could kill him. But your hand that was holding his head in place threaded through his hair to pull him away. He hissed from the pain and the pinpricks of his strands being pulled out but he stayed there, just biting and sucking your skin until your other hand started pushing at his shoulder.

“Too much, too much.” You said weakly.

Sohee let his canines press into the pulse of your neck one last time before he pulled away. He kept his fingers inside of you, pumping slowly just to finally see the final twitches rack through your body. His eyes focused on the imprint of his teeth in your neck, he counted each tooth over and over again, focusing on his canines that dug particularly deep. He felt pride blossom in his chest, physical proof of real pain to distract him from the constant pangs he felt in his heart. But something in him tore when one of your hands went to his wrist to pull him from your cunt while the other ran a hand over his bite mark. Sohee looked at your large eyes in astonishment as you ran your fingers over the indents in the crook of your neck.

“Your dragon teeth almost broke the skin.” You said, still running your hand over the indent. 

Sohee watched your finger stay on the imprint his canines left behind. Sohee felt the aching in his pants again as he licked his lips.

“Sorry.” Sohee apologized while fully getting off of your body. You could do the same to me. Maybe even worse. Just rip my flesh right off the bone next time you get a chance.

He went back to his side of the car as he watched you try and gather your bearings. He looked outside the window, already seeing the fog form on the inside. The cars speeding by on the highway was only a blur, and he imagined himself in one of those cars leaving the town. 

He was still looking out the window when he heard you moving out of your shirt, and just as he looked to you again Sohee saw your chest become free in your dimly lit car. He couldn’t take his eyes off, each time was like the first without fail. He reached across the space to grab you in both of his hands, the flesh spilling out between his fingers. He was caught in your web again, mindlessly kneading and pressing down to try and pull noises from you. He pulled on your stiff nipples, another harsh display of the power imbalance he tried to make right. But when you only moaned from the tug and climbed on top of his lap, you took back the power just as easy. 

The worst part was that he didn’t even know if you knew the power you had over him. You controlled everything in his life when you were in his sights. He swore you controlled the temperature in your car that suddenly raised tenfold and the light that shined perfectly behind your head like the sun. He was blinded worse than he ever was in his life looking up at you. When your hand caressed his cheek he drew in a sharp breath, already feeling the lurch in his heart as you smiled down at him.

“Can I ride you?” You asked even though you both already knew the answer. 

Sohee gave the illusion of a choice by nodding his head and pointing towards the center console. You smiled and reached towards the floor of your car, bringing the foil packet of a condom in his line of sight. 

“You know I never forget.” You said.

Sohee nodded again, swallowing his nerves to try and wet his dry throat. When you backed up on his lap and pulled at the waistband of his boxers Sohee lifted his hips to push them down to his ankles. His dick sprung straight up, red and angry from your accidental edging. Sohee looked from his dick to your mocking pout as you pinched his cheek.

“Sorry I didn’t make you cum earlier.” You said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Sohee didn’t know how you considered this to be fun as his dick twitched. The overheard light caught the precum leaking from his tip, glistening as you continued to coo at him. Sohee hid in the crook of his elbow with the other hand gripping the skin of your waist. He can do alot of things. He can transition from his chest voice to his head voice seamlessly, he can memorize the lyrics of any song in under a hour, but what he absolutely can not do is watch you put the condom on his dick. He doesn’t know what it is, but the mere thought of it has him pulsing in your hand as your align the bottom of the condom with his dick.

“Look at me Sohee.” You cooed and Sohee pulsed in your hand again.

Sohee shook his head as he felt the latex hug the tip of his dick. Between your hand and the condom he felt the rubber ring, waiting to be pushed down the rest of his length.

“I wanna see you do it.” You said it weakly, the previous teasing tone in your voice completely gone.

Only when you pulled your hands away did Sohee take his arm away from his eyes. He regretted it immediately seeing your completely blown out eyes watch him eagerly. You looked like you were going to bite him any second, you licked your lips like you were getting ready to. Your hungry eyes focused on his veiny hands as he gripped the base of his veiny dick. Just like when he was getting his pants off Sohee’s hands just didn’t seem to be cooperating. The lubricated latex slipped right out of his fingers, and he didn’t apply enough force to roll the rest of the condom down his dick. You didn’t help, you only watched him with amusement as you started running your hands over his body. 

The more gentle you were running your hands everywhere the more impatient Sohee got. When you grazed your fingers over his chest slowly, Sohee clenched his hand around his dick pretending it was you. When you ran your hand down his shoulders he shook his head slightly, feeling something akin to electricity prickle his skin. 

You were teasing him, playing mind games to keep him in the back of your car forever. Maybe this was the night you were really going to kill him. Sohee thought about how he told his bandmates that he was going to be with you tomorrow. He hoped Wonbin would be able to lead the cops straight to this parking lot. They’d bust you right in the middle of your shift while you served IPA’s on tap to businessmen who hated their lives and—

“Sohee.”

He blinked rapidly looking at you, not even noticing you had replaced his hand with your own. You hovered directly over his dick, the same look of worry written across your face from earlier.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, not sure what for. 

Regardless he said the right thing, the look on your face turned back to the insatiable hunger you always had after closing down your bar.

“It’s okay.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can I—“

Rob me of all my ambitions? Keep me in this town forever? Kill me? 

“Yes.” Sohee said, moving his other hand to your hip. 

He held your waist with all his might, digging his fingers into your skin until he felt the bone. Your desperation was reflected in the way you held onto his shoulder for dear life, digging your fingernails in until they left indents. Maybe if he was lucky, you’d break the skin. 

You definitely had the chance of drawing blood when you first sank down on his dick. For a moment you were so tight Sohee’s tip prodded your entrance, but when his hand rubbed your lower stomach you relaxed. You took all of him with ease just like you always did. He fit inside of you like a puzzle piece, and your body shivered above his when his dick somehow reached even deeper.

You whined and tipped your head backwards, rotating your hips to feel him in that part of your stomach. Sohee watched the show and used one hand to guide you in a circular motion while the other continued to press into your lower stomach. Your eyes were already screwed shut and you were gasping for air like you were already feeling your second impeding orgasm. There were times you’d have Sohee in the backseat of your car purely for stress relief. During those nights—which was most nights—Sohee could barely form a sentence while you bounced on his dick saying whatever came to your mind. The first time Sohee saw you like that, he had to write a song about it. Ironically, it was the song he’d be working on tomorrow at Wonbins’. So Sohee tried to pay extra close attention to your hips, and the way your body would momentarily freeze when something felt particularly good. He hoped that you would tell him he was your favorite singer, the confession coming out rushed through your swollen lips.

Tonight was different. There wasn’t a sense of fervor in your hips as you chased after an orgasm. Everything was intentional, everything was slow. The way you gasped quietly before loosening your grip on Sohee’s shoulder while your other hand caressed his cheek. You seemed to try so hard to keep your eyes open, as if you were trying to memorize everything about him. When you bent down to kiss Sohee again you didn��t push your tongue past his lips. You continued to give him breathy chaste kisses while grinding your hips against his.

When Sohee saw your eyebrows cinch in frustration, he pressed deep into his seeat to create a small amount of space before driving his hips up into yours. Even if the thrust was small you reacted fully, twitching and bring your chest to rest against his. 

Maybe you really were feeling sentimental. 

Sohee pulled away from your lips to see you open your eyes. He saw that they were glassy like always, but the whites of your eyes looked like they were starting to turn red. Sohee told himself it was because you were tired as he flicked his hips up the same way again. Sohee gasped when you clenched around him the same time you whimpered hopelessly. He maintained eye contact with you and did it a third time. He had to let out a shaky breath of his own when you hung your head from the stimulation.

“Sohee.” You whimpered quietly.

He didn’t say anything back. He would’ve told you about the two bedroom apartment that allowed pets down the street if he said anything else. He only fucked up into you again and closed his eyes in bliss. 

Sohee felt your body collapse against his. Your bare chest pressed deeply into his as he started grinding his hips up into yours. You were no help anymore, you were already a puddle of whines and whimpers and the same breathless declarations of his name. 

Your hand that caressed Sohee’s cheek traveled to the nape of his neck to thread through his dampening strands of hair. You pulled experimentally just like you did every night as if Sohee would react any differently. Each time he would hiss and tilt his head towards the slight pain. Your breath fanned the newly exposed part of his neck, the same place where he bit you. He felt your hesitation, only a timid lick as you burrowed deeper into the crook.

“Do it.” Sohee whispered as he started lifting you by your hips to and bringing you down with the same force.

Bite me. Eat me whole. I won’t have to worry about failing if I can blame my death on you. The greatest musicians die young anyway’s right?

When you still held back, Sohee found a new strength inside of him. He was able to lift your completely off his length, bringing you down the same time he drove his hips up. He was fucking up into you and fucking you down on him at the same time. He heard you hiss from the stimulation as your hand dug into the seat cushion beside his head to steady yourself. Your skin slapping against his filled your car and he could feel it rocking from the movement. He imagined your bared teeth in the crook of his neck, so close to the vein that gave him life. Sohee’s brought his hand across your back to hold you tight against him and pushed your head closer to his neck. He could practically feel the blood pulsing where your teeth would go.

“Do it.” He lamented.

You only hesitated for a second before digging your teeth into his skin. Sohee swore he could feel each individual tooth leaving its indent on your skin. The pain made his adrenaline skyrocket, and Sohee fucked into you with a strength and speed that was new to the both of you. You held on for the ride, and eventually you started finding some of your own strength back. You were bouncing on his dick without the guidance of his hands, and you pulled away from his neck to press your forehead against his.

“Are you close?” You asked, trying so hard to hold on.

“So close.” Sohee answered.

From the tone in his voice you clamped around his dick again. A sigh racked through his body, and the terrible thought of taking off his condom flashed through his mind. His hand went from the back of your neck to your shoulder, holding you close like you were going to break.

“Let’s do it together.” You said quickly.

You planted your feet on the seat and started bouncing. Sohee went from controlling the tempo entirely to being completely at your mercy. He still gripped your hip and clutched your shoulder to feign dominance, but he was moaning pitifully as you continued working him.

“Touch me there, Sohee.” You said.

Sohee wordlessly moved the hand that was on your shoulder to your clit, hoping that’s what you meant by there. The way your pace faltered let him know he was most likely right, but he needed your confirmation. He looked up from his fingers that worked your swollen bud to your eyes. Sweat lined your face, and Sohee swore he saw tears forming in the corners of your eyes. He pressed deeper, and saw you sniffle before catching your lip between your teeth.

“Here?” He asked, eyes wide as he followed your every move.

“Right there.” You answered immediately and screwed your eyes shut. “I’m gonna cum.” You moaned.

Sohee nodded, and let the orgasm he was staving off come to the forefront of his mind. Already he felt like he was ready to explode, he just needed to see you do it first.

“Me too.” He whimpered back as his fingers worked your clit.

Within seconds your hips stilled and your moan reverberated through the car. If you were like him, he was sure your cries would’ve cracked the window. But you only continued to sob out broken declarations of Sohee’s name, and within seconds he followed suit. He taut balls twitched against your ass, and he felt the familiar spill into his condom. If he closed his eyes and focused hard enough there was nothing separating the two of you, and he felt a new wave of cum spurt from his tip. 

He started shivering from the relief, a breathy laugh as he felt the stimulation of your walls still spasming around him. You pressed  a million kisses around his face, and Sohee’s entire body went so limp in your backseat that his lower back cracked. He continued to feel everything, inspiration for a new song and newfound love for his city and the current state of his life. he brought your tired sweaty body close to his and kept you there. 

He matched the rise of his chest to the fall of yours, then matched your breathing completely. You two had become one, laying in the backseat of your car as the flickering lamp posts light finally went out.

After everything, the nothingness always seemed comforting. everything seemed warm. Sohee rubbed his hand up and down the expanse of your back that was already becoming cold again.

“Come with me to the studio next week.” Sohee said.

He spoke to the review mirror that showed him a clear view of the back of your head. As if you knew he wouldn’t have the funds, Sohee watched your closed eyes open quickly as you stared at the side of his face. 

When you pulled away from Sohee’s body he wiped some of the sweat from your forehead. He went to the apple of your cheek, squeezing slightly as you got up from his lap. He worked the filled condom off his dick as you leaned forward past the center console to grab your clothes. You put your bra on and looked back at him briefly before you facing your clothes again.

“Can’t.” You said quietly.

“It’ll be before your shift.” Sohee reasoned

“i’m moving tomorrow.” You said even quieter

Sohee sat up from his seat. The rare life update from you piqued his interest and the way you didn’t face him made Sohee try to maneuver to look at you.

“To the new apartment buildings downtown?” He asked.

You scoffed and shook your head. Sohee shifted forward in his seat again to pull his boxers back up his legs.

“I’m moving to California.” You answered.

Sohee paused, and the elastic from his waistband snapped against his skin. He tilted his head to the side, still trying to figure out why you wouldn’t look at him. In the silence you worked your panties back up your legs and your shirt was resting in your lap by the time Sohee found his voice again.

“What’s in California?” He asked.

Finally you faced away from your clothes to look at Sohee. 

“I don’t know, everything?” You pulled your shirt back over your head and Sohee was still completely still, only in his boxers. “Stores that are open past nine, the arts, other people my age.” You continued.

“I mean, what are you going to do out there?” Sohee asked.

He still didn’t move, even when you put his clothes onto his lap so he could change.

“Well the bartender that works here in the mornings, she wants to pursue acting. She asked me if I wanted to move and I just thought to myself if I don’t do it now it may never happen.” You seemed happy, smiling ear to ear as you thought about your journey that was starting tomorrow. “Her Dad said he’d spot us first month’s rent, and I already found a bar close to our place that’s hiring.” You said.

You somehow did something worse than killing him. In a days time, you would only be a shadow, a figment of Sohee’s imagination. He for some reason felt like the world was crashing down around him while you looked the happiest he’s ever seen you. When he remained unmoving, he saw your eyebrows stitch together as you looked at him carefully.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” You asked.

I just stabbed you in the heart, aren’t you happy? Look, I can even twist the knife too.

Sohee shook his head and put his graphic tee on. He could feel you becoming apprehensive, and he felt himself becoming frustrated for no reason.

“I thought you’d be the type to stay here forever.” Sohee said.

Your eyebrows raised and your head cocked to the side as Sohee’s words sunk in. He could tell you remembered the few times he would refer to people who stayed in their hometowns their whole lives as an insult before you started pulling your pants up your legs.

“I actually take offense to that.” You said.

Sohee started pulling his own pants up, shaking his head to try and make envy leave his body.

“I just think it’s weird you’re moving across the country to become a bartender.” Sohee reasoned. “You’ll be in California not to be a singer or an actress, but a bartender?”

He knew he messed up when you paused buttoning your jeans. You turned to face him completely, your skin still clammy from sweat.

“What’s so wrong with that?” You scoffed before climbing over the center console to the drivers seat. “Everyone has to start somewhere.” 

Sohee followed after you, going into the passengers seat as you dug around in your purse for the keys. He knew he didn’t have the right to speak, but none of this felt fair. He thought that you had the same inner struggle he was having every night he came to see you. But you were fine—in fact you were more than fine—because you were getting out, something Sohee failed to do.

“Couldn’t you just do that here? And save your money?” He asked.

“I’ve been doing it here for awhile. I’ve saved up more money than you think.” Your car came to life when you put the keys in the ignition, but afterwards you turned to Sohee with indignation written across your face. “Sohee I didn’t even know you knew my name until we had sex for the first time. And now here you are telling me how I should live my life?” You said.

Everything was so unfair. He knew more about you than he knew about himself. He wanted to know more, the time you two spent together suddenly felt so short. If he knew you were going to kill him anyway he would’ve dug a little deeper. 

“Did you just expected me to stay in this town and fuck you every night until you left?” You looked to him from your side of the seat, and when he didn’t respond you shook your head. 

“Just until I get enough money for the studio.”

Sohee didn’t know if he was talking about studio time or the studio apartment that he would get if you two didn’t want to move in together right away. Everything in his mind was becoming jumbled, only set clear by your confused voice.

“Then what?” You asked.

Then we both give up our dreams together and settle in life. We get that apartment and we have a child, then we grow old to resent eachother because we held ourselves back just to be comfortable. But maybe our child would become rich and famous and we’d live the rest of our days in luxury.

When Sohee said nothing back to you, he watched you give up. You let out a sigh and your shoulders sagged, and you pulled out of the parking spot and drove on the underpass to Sohee’s house. He thought about Dragon Teeth and how you’d be living in California while he lived in New York pursuing his dream. He thought about the off chance of him staying in this boring town with the hopes that you’d eventually find your way back to the dingy dive bar you worked at nearly every day. Maybe he’d be waiting there for you, or maybe he’d write a song about it, and when you listened on the radio you’d know it’d be just for you.

He wanted to let you know about his plan when you stopped in front of his house but the words couldn’t come out. You still gave him a smile, muttering about how you’d miss him and think about him everyday. Sohee felt the knife turn in his heart as he said the same, already writing the lyrics in his mind to deal with the pain.

[lyraoftheevergreens]

The Realms Enchantress

Chapter 2

NSFW, minors do not engage

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader!Niece, Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Female!OC,

Summary: For years Daemon never had a care in the world just, sex, wine and a good battle. With the exception of his favorite niece. His little dragon he called her. He swore to be there for her and he got himself exiled when she needed him the most. Now, he returns from war at the step stones and is determined to get her back. No matter the cost.

Warnings: Targaryen Inscest, mentions of sex, oral female and male receiving, talk of nudity, mentions of death and blood, mother murdered, dead babies, depression, periods, vulgar language.

Authors Note: Welp, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I might as well tell you. I’m a complete whore for Daemon and that truly shows through this. I hope you all enjoy my slutty little works.

This is edited to a degree, I apologize for any errors in advanced. I tried my best.

Word Count: 5,542; sorry, got a little carried away

Tag List: Open

Chapter 1

2 years and some moons went by after y/n’s name day now 8 and 10 years of age a tourney is called in celebration of the babe in her mother’s womb. Celebration of the kings heir that has yet to been born. Your father swears it will be a boy. So hopeful that he is celebrating his arrival before your mother’s labors have even begun.

Your father gives his thanks and speech to commence the start of the tourney and alerts the people that your mother’s labors have begun. You sat with your family in the viewing area next to Rhaenyra and Alicent when Daemon approaches the viewing box, “Princess’ lady Hightower. Here to watch me win?” He said with his usual smug expression.

“We will see how true your words remain.” Y/n speaks first.

“You shall see then.”

He goes on to pick his opponent, Gwayne Hightower, Alicents older brother. She becomes visibly nervous when Daemon picks him. It is when Daemon un horses him that you think she is going to burst out crying in fear for her brother. Daemon then makes his way back to you,” Lady Alicent, I am all but certain I can win these games but having your favor shall ensure it.” He says to her holding out his jousting stick. You and Rhaenyra were in shock, you hurt more so. Every tourney he asked for your favor now he ask for hers. When you took your seat you noticed the maester approaching your father. You sat the tourney for as long as you could but once the murder began you decided to take your leave. You went to snack tables and grabbed an apple where you were met with your uncle. “You’re leaving my tourney?” He spoke first.

“No, taking a break from the murder. Besides it’s not your tourney, it’s for the babe in my mother’s womb.”

“Unless that babe is born with a cock, I remain heir. Besides, It’s not murder when it’s in the name of the tourney.”

“My apologies, I refuse to watch.”

“Well I hope you return to watch your favorite uncle once more.”

“Perhaps I will.” With that you went your separate ways. Your uncle to the tourney field and you to the viewing. A few moments go past, your uncle is unhorsed and on the floor, “PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN WISHES TO CONTINUE IN A CONTEST OF ARMS.” Shouts the announcer. It’s then that you take your leave not wishing to see what happens next.

You made your way to the red keep and once in the halls of the keep all that could be heard were your mother’s screams, you made your way to the room this was coming from. The guards stood at the door would not let you in. You pleaded with them,” please, I wish to comfort my mother through her labors as I have done so through the previous ones.” Unbeknownst to the guards this birth would not be like the previous ones.

Once you entered through the large heavy wooden door your mother’s screams flooded your ears, your father and the hand maids holding your mother down like cattle, the maesters hands inside her womb. Blood everywhere. You stood there in silent shock. It wasn’t until one of the hand maidens alerted your father of your presence that you felt hands grab at your arms and pull you from the room. Your brain unable to process your father yelling at you to leave and for the guards to remove you from the room. “Remove your hands from her!” Yelled Ser Errol, he took you from the guards that had dragged you out the room, you looked up at him with tears streaming from your eyes. He could feel how limp you were. He carried you to your chambers and sat you on your bed. It was then your uncle came in,” You left. I suppose it’s fine due the fact I turned my back on my opponent and lost.” He said with an annoyed tone in his voice. He still wore his armor, he placed his helmet on your clothing chest. It was then that all could be heard was the shouts from the tourney. Your mother’s screams had stoped. You turned your head towards your uncle, tear stained face and shaky voice,”she is dead.”

“Who is dead?” He replied.

“My mother. He killed her.”

“Who killed her!” He shouted with his hand gripping dark sister at his side.

“My father.” Daemon let go of the sword and sat at the chair. “Tell me, what did my brother do.”

“He had the maesters cut the babe from her womb. His hands were inside her. My mother held down like cattle for slaughter. Like some birthing animal. He killed his wife. My mother! MY MOTHER!” It was the that you began yelling and crying hysterically. Daemon rose from his seat and pulled you into him. Your face on the metal on his chest. You began slamming the sides of your fist on it, beating his armored chest. He stood there and took your anger. Rhaenyra entered,” what has happened, is mother alright?” You looked up at Daemon and whispered a silent no. He understood. You walked to Rhaenyra and locked the door to your chambers. You turned to her and began to speak,” I’m so sorry Nyra, mother has passed.” Rhaenyra stood there silently and let her the shock of your words absorb into her. Daemon began to remove his armor and watched the two sisters. “She is dead.”

“Yes.” With that the tears slowly fell from her eyes. And then she broke out into a hysterical sob. You held her close to you, the two of you falling to the floor. You sat and held your sister as she sobbed into you. It was then that your uncle left. Unbeknownst to you at the time that he went in search of his brother. Eventually you and Rhaenyra made your way to the bed and fell asleep in each other’s arms. You both woke in the morning, she left to her chambers and you remained in yours, the maids helped you bathe and dress. You walked with Rhaenyra to Rhaenys is hill. Syrax atop the hill. You both stood in front of the two pyres. Not realizing how long the two of you were stood there till daemon approached Rhaenyra, “they are waiting for you.” He told her in a hushed tone.

“Nyke pendagon lo, during lī dorolvie hours issa lēkia glaesagon, ñuhon kepa finally found biarves”

(I wonder if, during those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness)

“Aōha kepa jorrāelagon ao, tolī than ziry mirre emagon. Se both hen ao”

(Your father needs you, more than he ever has. The both of you)

“Nyke jāhor dōrī sagon nykeā tresy”

(We will never be sons) with that Rhaenyra stepped forward to your father she tried to speak but her voice broke. She looked next to her at her grieving father staring upon his dead wife and son. Her mother and brother. She quickly turned her head.

“Dracarys.” With that, Syrax made his way down the hill and set the pyres aflame. Daemon held you to his chest while you both watched your mother and brother burn.

“Nyke jorrāelagon ao kepus, sir tolī than mirre.”

(I need you kepus, now more than ever)

“Nyke’m kesīr.”

(I’m here) he spoke as he held you close.

Everyone retreated to the castle once the ceremony was over. Rhaenyra to her room while you and your father thanked people for coming and encouraged them to feast. You sat with your uncle while he drank his wine. Once it was all over Daemon turned to you,” Nyke līs sir jikagon byka zaldrīzes. Se oktion urnēbagon jorrāelagon issa.” (I must now go little dragon. The city watch needs me.)

“Nyke shifang. Geron issa naejot issa chambers kostilus”

(I understand. Walk me to my chambers please)

“Hen rhinka.”

(Of course)

Daemon offered you his arm. You took it and he escorted you to your chambers. You both entered. Stood there in the center of the room. He held you against his chest. His fingers ran through your hair.

“I must go now.”

“Stay with me.”

“I have a duty to the realm. Keep the streets safe, for the kingdom. For you.”

“I understand, but selfishly I want you to stay.”

“If I could you know I would.”

“I understand. Go, leave.” With this he kissed your forehead and left. Your handmaids undressed you and you changed into your night shift and made your way to Rhaenyras chambers. You entered without knocking and climbed into bed with her. She turned and placed her head on your chest. She cried into you until she fell back asleep. You woke the next morning in Rhaenyras’ bed. You turned to face what you assumed was her but were met with your uncle asleep next to you. You put your head on his chest and he spoke. ”good morning sweet girl.”

“Morning.” You mumbled to him. “Where is Nyra.”

“She is on Syrax. I saw her earlier leaving to the dragon pit. I asked where you were and she informed me you were asleep in her bed.”

“Mmm.” You grumbled. He laid there stroking your hair as you laid with your head on his chest. “Are you going to leave the bed today.” He asked, he spoke gently, with care. “No.” You answered. Your head and body ached with grief. Your eyes burned from all the tears. He left the bed first then proceeded to rip the covers off you. You shoved your face into the pillows, “Daemon.” You grumbled. He wasn’t having any of it as he picked you up into his arms and walked out the doors of Rhaenyras’ room into the halls of the red keep. Your arms around his neck. “Where are we going?” You questioned him. “Hush, don’t worry yourself about it.”

You held onto him, hiding your face in his neck. You heard him bark orders of getting a carriage ready but you didn’t see to whom these orders were being told to. He stood holding you for longer than you thought possible but he never faltered. In time he was notified of a carriage is arrival. He took you out to the carriage and you left his arms to enter the carriage he sat next to you and you held onto his arm resting your head on his shoulder. Soon you arrived at what you realize to be the dragon pit when the driver opens the door to the carriage. Daemon exists while you remain seated.

“No.” Is all you say as he stands waiting for you to follow him.

“That beast of yours misses you.”

“He is fine, take me back to the Keep Daemon.”

“If that were true why is he causing so much trouble for the dragon keepers.”

“Because it is a false belief that we control the dragons.”

“Then go. Set him free.”

“Daemon. Please.” You were practically crying at this point as tears began to form in your eyes.

“dōnus riñītsos, come with me.”

You stayed silent as you got out from the carriage. He held out his hand to help you down when you realized you wore nothing but your night shift and to make matters worse, you were barefoot.

“ I’m not dressed. And my feet are bare.”

“Then I shall continue to carry you.” He states matter of factly. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he carries you like a child. His hands under your bottom holding you up.

He has the dragon keepers bring out Dyrax. He held on to you as they bring out your dragon.

“Gods has he always been so huge. He’s going to be to large for the pit.” You turn your head to look at your dragon “the beast” Daemon likes to call him, he had grown so large in the year since Daemon had last seen him. Dyrax saw Daemon holding you and could probably smell the sadness that over took you. He let out an ear bleeding screech. He was ready to set the whole pit on fire at the sight of his rider in someone’s arms. You asked Daemon to put you down and he refused, walking you to Dyrax.

You put your hand to the dragons face.

“It’s okay my love, Nyke’m okay issa jorrāelagon, nyke’m ȳgha. Ziry’s lentor.”

(I’m okay my love, I’m safe. He’s family)

“Put your hand on him.” You tell Daemon and he does, with one arm holding you to him and the other on the dragon.

“Aōha olvie nykeā magnificent dyni, nyke kostagon ūndegon skoro syt issa niece iksos sīr attached naejot ao.” (You’re quite a magnificent beast, I can see why my niece is so attached to you) Daemon says to the dragon. “Go on, climb in to the saddle.” He tells you and you wrap your arms and legs around him tighter. “No, I refuse. Take me back to bed.” You tell him. “Fine. Hold on tight.” He says and then begins to start his climb up Dyrax. “Daemon! I’ll climb.” You shout, letting go of him and begin to get into the saddle.

“Where are we even going?” You ask. As he begins to take his seat infront of you

“Dragonstone.”

“No. I won’t be able to stay awake for that long of a flight, I’m not well. I just want to sleep please take me back to the castle.”

“I’m taking you to a castle. You’ll be fine.” He says and then shouts to the dragon keepers, “Tepagon issa se fabric ties.” (Give me the fabric ties) they toss it up to him and he catches it.

“I am not an infant.” You speak sternly.

“Then why must you act like one.” He remarks beginning to tie you to him. “If you fall asleep while you are tied to me then I won’t have to worry about you falling to your death, if you die your father will have my head if this beast we are on doesn’t kill me first.”

“Fine.” You say helping him tie you to him.

“Sōvegon Dyrax. Obey issa.” (Fly Dyrax. Obey me.) Daemon spoke to him, but yet your stubborn beast refused to move.

“Rȳbagon naejot zirȳla. Gūrogon īlva naejot zaldrīzes dōron Dyrax.” You told the dragon. And with that he let out a screech and started his accent to the sky.

(Listen to him. Take us to Dragonstone Dyrax)

“Stubborn bastard.” Daemon mumbled making you laugh. You kept your arms wrapped around Daemon and rested your head on his back under his shoulder.

“Why Dragonstone?” You asked him.

“Why no? You are Princess of Dragonstone after all.”

“Nyra needs me.”

“She has the Hightower girl and Syrax, she will be fine.”

“What if it is I who needs her.”

“You have me.”

“For how long?”

“We will see zaldrītsos, I can promise you four days. Possibly more.”

(Little dragon)

“And your precious gold cloakes?”

“I’ve put Ser Harwin in charge while I attend to you.”

“Does anyone know I’ve left with you? Nyra, Ser Errol, my father?”

“I informed Rhaenyra of my plans when I saw her leave her room. Ser Errol is aware and as for your father do you believe he would let me have you to myself?”

“No. Besides he doesn’t leave his chambers so I suppose he wouldn’t notice my absence.” The two of you talked for sometime then eventually you drifted to sleep. After a long nap you woke to the sound of Daemon yelling commands to Dyrax.

“Tegon Dyrax. Naejot se ripo. Listen you stubborn bastard. Jikagon naejot se ripo.” (Land Dyrax. To the pit. Listen you stubborn bastard. Go to the pit.)

“Rybās Dyrax.” You spoke up. (Obey Dyrax.) with that he started to descend to the pit.

“He was almost listening to me.” Daemon mumbled. You kissed his cheek,” oh yes, very close.” You laughed. Once landed the dragon keepers of the island took Dyrax.

“Ziry jorrāelagon naejot ipradagon.” Daemon told the keepers to feed Dyrax, that he had a long flight, as he climbed down the dragon with you still tied on his back.

“Daemon, are you going to untie me.”

“No, I quite enjoy you back here.” He said holding your legs that are wrapped around his waist. The hour was late you noticed as the sun had set.

“What is the hour?” You asked as he walked to the doors of the castle.

“Hour of the eel I believe.”

“Oh quite late. Daemon, if I’m going to tire again I should walk.

“Okay but hold on.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he begins to untie you. Once untied from him you begin to fall to the floor. With an uumph from your lips.

“Thank you. Do you suppose the water is warm?”

“It’s too late to go in, I’ll take you on the morrow.”

“Fine. Your age is getting to you uncle Daemon.” You jest with him.

“Tis not.”

“Tis is.” You say walking away from him.

“Could an old man do this!” He shouts and begins to run towards you. You laugh as he chases you on the sand. He’s much faster than you are and eventually catches you. You scream and laugh, the two of you falling to the sandy floor. “Are you alright?” You ask him in between fits of laughter. “I’m just fine.” He lays there laughing and catching his breath. You sit up and smile down at him.

“I always forget how much I love it here. No politics, no ‘duty to the realm,’ it’s quite lovely. The dark sea.”

“Would you leave Kings Landing? Leave Rhaenyra?”

“Rhaenyra would come with me. But yes, I would.” You said and laid down next to him. Your head on his shoulder. You both laid there looking up at the stars.

“Qēlos.” You whispered. (Star)

“What’s the matter?” Daemon questioned.

“I wish there was a nicer word for star, the Valyrian word for star wouldn’t make a very nice name.”

“A name for whom? A dragon? It’s would fit a dragon quite nicely.”

“No. A girl. A babe. Mine, eventually. Hopefully.”

“I’m sure you will think of something beautiful.”

“I suppose so.”

“You still wish to have children after what you witnessed with your mother?”

“I watched my mother have still born babes and yet I still want many children, a husband who loves me. Our many children will be evidence of the love we have for another. My father let her die. If I wed the proper man, he won’t allow me to die.”

“I wouldn’t let you die.” Daemon whispers to you.

“You’re married.”

“My bronze bitch. Our marriage is unconsummated, it can be annulled.” He said.

You stayed quite laid in the sand when someone came walking down with a torch. Maester Gerold.

“Your graces, I was notified of your arrival. All is well?”

“All is well as can be.” Answered Daemon as he got up, helping you to your feet next.

“You’re in your night clothes princess?” The maester questioned.

“Oh yes. I apologize for my appearance.”

“Not necessary princess. If you will follow me, we have prepared your rooms. Do you wish to bathe?”

“The princess does, prepare it in her chambers.” Daemon ordered the maester as the three of you walked to the castles doors. Once inside the Maester ordered a bath to be prepared for you in your chambers. Dameon then ordered the maids to move his belongings to your chambers.

“I brought you here so it seems only right I keep you company.”

“Very well then.”

You sat on the bed and watched as the bath was prepared and Daemons belongings were brought to the room. The handmaidens stood to the side waiting for you to undress and enter the bath so they could bathe you. When Daemon spoke up and ordered them to leave.

“She can bathe herself.” He barked at them. They all hurried out of the room. “Good. Even better I don’t have that bleeding Ser Errol around either.”

“You don’t like him?”

“No. He treats me as though I’m to steal your virtue.”

“Are you not?” You questioned him.

“Only if you wish me too.”

“That’s alright. I will inform you when the moment arrives.” You say and drop your night shift off your shoulders and it puddles to the ground at your feet. No small clothes underneath. You stand there naked infront of him.

“No small clothes? Very naughty princess.”

You turn and walk away from him and get into the bath. Enjoying the hot water relax your tired body. As you rest in the basin eyes closed Daemon comes and sits next to you on the floor, with the back of a single finger he caresses your cheek. “Gevīe.” He whispers.

You knew you were beautiful, you were named the realms enchantress for a reason. Your beauty paralyses men and women. You could start wars with the look of an eye. Yet when Daemon called you beautiful with a look of want in his eyes you were ready to leap from the bath onto him.

He then glides his finger down from your cheek, to your neck to a single breast stoping right above the bud of your breast. You look into his eyes with yours. He removes his hand and retrieves the sponge and begins to bathe you. He wets your hair and cleans your body. His arm going under the water to wash between your legs. You close your eyes and hold back a moan. It took every ounce of strength for him not to take you out of the bath and have his way with you. But he kept his restraint. Finished bathing you and helped you out. Gave you your robe and had you sit on the chair infront of the mirror and brushed your hair. It was then you began to cry.

“Did I hurt you rinitsos?” He said looking at your face from the mirror. You looked up at his face and managed to get out a no in between your soft cries. You stood and looked up at him, “take me to bed.” You whispered as tears flowed down your cheeks. He lifted you and took you to bed, the blankets already pulled back. He lays you down and tries to get in next to you but you stop him.

“No. Undress. I’m bare, it’s only fair you are too.”

“You wear a robe.” With that you stood and untied it and let it fall to the floor.

“I’m not now.” You said getting back into bed. With that he began to undo the buckles of his doublet, removing his boots and breaches. Last his small clothes and tunic. He stood there naked before you. His member hanging there yet still quite large. It didn’t matter to you as you kept eye contact with his face. You patted the empty side of the bed as a gesture for him to join you. He entered the bed and pulled you into him.

“My mother will never brush my hair again.”

“I’m sorry my sweet girl.”

“What age were you when your mother passed?”

“4. I don’t remember her much unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-.”

“It’s alright, don’t fret.” He interrupted the start of a ramble. He stroked your wet hair and eventually tracing his fingers up and down your spine. You looked up at him and he felt your movement and looked down at you. Your hand moved up his chest to his cheek. Leaving your hand gently there you spoke, “Daemon, kiss me.” He laid there silently staring at you. Your hand moved into his hair. “Please.” That one little please was all it took and he was on his side pressing his lips to yours. You followed his movements and when his tongue entered your mouth you weren’t sure what to do so you allowed him to lead the kiss, you laid there having never been kissed but the need for Daemon was to strong to ignore. After a while you pulled away to breathe and just stared into his eyes. Nothing but the candles illuminating the room.

His hand moved to the back of your head and pulled you into him, his lips connecting with yours. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on top of him. You could feel his hard length under you as you hovered your hips over him. You pulled away to speak. “Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt my sweet girl.” “Your.” You spoke, a blush coming to your cheeks as you pointed down. “Your uhm.” “My cock, no.” Your blushing ferociously now. He glides a finger over your wet center and over your pearl, a soft moan escapes your lips. “Does that hurt you?” He ask.

“No, it feels good.”

“As do I.” With that he flips you both over so he is on top. His cock between your folds rubbing over your pearl. Your head falls back as you moan. He puts a head over your mouth.

“Shh, you don’t want the servants reporting back to your father.” You pull his hand from your mouth.

“Perhaps I do.”

“As you pointed out earlier I am married zaldritsos.”

“Uhg, don’t speak of her.”

“My bronzed bitch.” He leans down bring his lips to your ear. “I spoke the truth to you earlier. I’ve never laid with her, not how I am with you right now.”

“She’s truly never had you?”

“No.” He continues to thrust his cock between your folds never entering you. His lips connect with yours. Your tongues dance. You lay there in absolute bliss. After a long time he gets off of you and begins to fist his cock, you lay there and watch for a moment. The act so arousing. You get up behind him and placed your hand over his. He turns his head to look at you.

“Can I?” You speak up.

“No darling, lay down. I’ll be done soon.”

“I want to. I want to make you feel good.” You whisper hesitantly.

“These are whores tricks, you are my sweet girl. Not some whore.” He says. You begin to kiss down his neck.

“Please. Teach me.” That was all it took and he gave into you.

“Okay.” He released his hand and placed yours on his hard length. So much bigger than when you had seen it earlier. His hand covered yours as he had you pump him.

“Get on your knees infront of me.” You did as he said climb off the bed and getting on your knees for him.

“Use both your hands.” You did as he said, “oh yes. Good girl. Now lick the head.” You lick it once.

“No sweet girl. Keep licking, keep moving your tongue over it.” You did as he said pumping his length in your hands and giving the head the attention it craved. Daemon sat with his head back breathing heavy.

“You wanna swallow my seed? Hmm?” He asked you.

You let out a, “mhmm” with your lips.

“Okay, give me your hand.” You did as he said, he put two of your fingers in his mouth and began to suck up and down on them. You began to grow wetter.

“You’re going to do that on my cock. It’s okay not all fits your mouth, you can still use your hands.” You did as he said and released one of your hands and began to suck up and down on his length. “Breathe through your nose darling. Thats it. Good girl. My good girl.” You kept going and quickened your pace.

“It’s here sweet girl, get ready to swallow all of it okay.” He spoke in between his heavy breathing. You kept up your movements and eventually your mouth filled with a warm liquid. Some of it began to come out the sides of your mouth “try and swallow it, try.” And you did, you tried but it was all so overwhelming you removed your mouth from him and his seed went on to your face. The sight of his seed on your face made him release a bit more. He used his thumb to wipe off some of it and bringing it to your mouth. You swallowed what was on his fingers. He got up and grabbed a towel the maids had left behind. Cleaning your face first and then his cock. You both climbed into bed you laid there head on his chest. Your eyes widened and you sat up. “Am I with child?”

“Why do you think that sweet girl?”

“Your seed is my stomach. Babes grow in the stomach.”

“No, they grow in the womb.”

“The womb is in the belly.”

“Did your mother not tell you how she came to be with child all those times?”

“No.” You blushed and were about to cry, you had so much to learn and no mother to teach it. Daemon brushed away a small tear.

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.”

“How babes are made?”

“You have your monthly bleeds correct? You’ve seen your mother push out babes?”

“Yes I bleed, but when my mother begins her labors I’m always by her head.”

“You bleed from your cunt. When a man inserts his cock inside you, and releases his seed in there you will grow a babe in your womb.”

“Oh. I understand. So, the marital act?”

“Yes?”

“Is it that?”

“Yes it is.”

“Does it hurt?”

“At first, but fucking can be a pleasure. Like how you brought me pleasure with your hands and mouth.”

“I understand.”

“Let’s sleep, we can discuss this further after sunrise.” You laid with your head on his chest tucked into his side. You couldn’t fight the needy feeling you felt between your legs. How wet you were. You tried to sleep but it was impossible. You looked up at Daemon who was sound asleep. Lips parted as he gently breathed. The sight of him so relaxed didn’t help what was between your legs.

“Daemon wake up.” You shook him awake.

“What’s wrong?” He mumbled.

“I can’t sleep.” You remarked.

“Such a shame. It’s quite nice.” He responds his eyes still closed.

“I feel funny.” You tell him.

“Funny how? We’ve slept in the same bed plenty of times. Oh no, I knew I shouldn’t have let you-“

“Im still wet from earlier.” You cut him off.

“Oh?” He opens one eye and looks at you.

“You need kepus to help you?” He remarks.

“Yes.”

“Let me think. I can’t take your maiden head.”

“Why not?”

“Because rinitsos, If you marry a cruel lord and you do not bleed for him on your wedding night, he may hurt you. I can’t have anyone hurting you. I think I know what might work.” He says filling the blankets of your bodies. “Open your legs.” He demands. He lowers himself. Eye level with your cunt. “7 hells you are wet. My poor girl, I was gonna make you go to sleep with all this between your legs. Not a very good Kepus of me.”

“Nope, bad Kepus.” He gives swift smack to your core at your remark. You gasp.

“Don’t start being bad, bad girls don’t get what I’m about to do for you.”

“I’ll be good.” You beg. With that he flattens his tongue lapping you up. His tongue goes between your folds and over your pearl. You’re a moaning mess already and he doesn’t bother to cover your mouth or give you something to cover your own mouth with. He loves hearing how free you are with him. The pleasure he’s bringing you. His tongue goes in and out of your cunt and his thumb rubs circles on your pearl.

“Please, please.” Your beg him. “Don’t stop.” You choke out. With that he shoves his tongue as deep as he can. Your cunt so tight he can feel it squeezing his tongue. He’s hard again imagining how it would feel around his cock. He’s now flicking and sucking your pearl with his mouth and using his smallest finger inside you. You’re a moaning mess for him. He can tell your about to peak by your cunt fluttering around his finger.

“I. I. Daemon-“ You’re cut off by your own release as you peak on his finger and tongue. Your shouting moaning mess as he devours every last drop and wipes his face on a fresh towel. He licks his fingers clean and uses a towel to wipe his hands.

“We are absolutely not returning to Kings landing now that I know you taste like that.”

“I taste good?” You asked.

“Absolutely. I’m addicted to it I’m afraid.” With that he pulls you in for a kiss and you can taste your self on his tongue. You pull away, “mmmm, I do taste good.” He gives a swift swat to your bottom. “Naughty girl. Only good girls get my tongue.” He smirks at you.

“I’ll be good. Your sweet girl.” The two of you go back to kissing and eventually fall asleep in each others arms.

Chapter 3

[jacesbeloved]

unexpected visit

request: “Hi! Can I request a jacaerys x stark!reader friends to lovers where jace calls her princess but they are not either married or bethroed. Like fluffy teasing that he wished it was true.”

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader

warnings/notes: canon divergent (rhaenyra has already been ruling for a year and there’s no war yay!), fem!reader, childhood friends, jace being a playful, ambiguous little shit (endearingly)

The great hall of Winterfell held the same cheerfulness that it had always had. Various households share their own cups and feasts with one another.

You, the daughter of the king, had enjoyed yourself long enough to excuse yourself to accommodate the cooks that have been cooking dishes since early morrow.

Always known as the nicest out of the king's children, to you, it was just basic decency. The cooks sighed softly at the sight of you once more, scolding you to head back to the halls.

Your presence remained in the gigantic kitchen for as long as you could stay there without being intrigued by the loud chatter and rushing outside. The cooks looked at you with the same amount of confusion before you all ran to the doorway, trying to see what was happening.

"My lady," one of the cooks, cautiously held her hand out to stop you from going out, peeking in first to see if it was safe. "A dragon has arrived outside!"

The both of you turned to each other with confusion, "A dragon? What would the queen need with the North?" You think to yourself.

If there was a dragon, then it meant there was royalty inside of Winterfell. And so you nod at the cook before going back to the great hall.

When you got back, there were already chit-chatters going around the hall, with your family nowhere to be found. You sigh to yourself before running to the courtyard. Your direwolf, Aura, following fast.

"Has there been any news on who came?" You asked a random guard.

"It is said to be one of Queen Rhaenyra's sons, my lady." The guard replies, and you feel something bloom in your chest.

There was already a crowd when you got to the courtyard; the people that saw you were yelling at the others to part ways for you. They glanced at you first before moving away as you tried to catch a glimpse of who it was.

Your father's familiar fur coat suddenly comes into view, and finally you're in the front, the majestic dragon in front of you as the chattering slowly silences, Aura beside you.

You slide your eyes over the dragon and to the figure beside it.

It was him: tall, with brown hair and a firm demeanor. And while your eyes had just landed on him, he already had his on you.

"Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Queen Rhaenyra, the heir to the Iron Throne!" The guard announces, and the surrounding crowd nods in respect.

"Prince Jacaerys! What an unexpected visit. Is the queen well?" Your father greets hospitably, walking forward to the prince.

Jacaerys nods at him, smiling warmly, before he hands an envelope to the older man. He rubbed the thick leather gloves he wore together as he grew chilly.

"My brother, Lucerys, is getting married. Our mother hopes for the presence of you and your family there, and as her eldest, I was tasked with delivering the message." Your father nods as he reads the contents of the invitation.

While your father reads the contents, Jace looks around. Your hands were anxious as you had last seen him years and years ago. Not a single letter between the two of you.

His gaze returned to your figure; slightly taller than he remembered, your hair was longer, darker, and braided into a beautiful crown that met behind your head. The two of you lock eyes with one another, feeling your breath get caught in your throat at the sudden tension.

He cocks his head subtly to the side and smiles discreetly. "Aura's grown." He thinks to himself, seeing the majestic wolf beside you.

The prince's attention gets drawn back to your father's loud chuckle, and you finally get to breath again. You thought to yourself that he'd be leaving now since he'd already delivered the message, so you didn't bother hoping for him to stay, to spend time with you, his long-time friend.

"It is an honor, my prince!" Your father states before he gestures at the guards. "Bring your dragon to the gates, it would be warmer there and it could stay there for the time being." Jacaerys' forehead creases.

"Unless you have plans back in Westeros? Prince Jacaerys, we're also celebrating. You're free to spend the night with us and come back tomorrow! We'll have a chamber ready for you!" The old man looks beside him to gesture at the servants who scurry quickly to ready the chambers.

Jace chuckles lightly at this, patting the dragon beside him. You can clearly see the way he was deciding in his head while your father waited for his word.

The prince glances at you, his eyebrows arching before a small smile paints itself on his lips. "It would be my pleasure."

Your father claps. "Very well then! Y/N, show the prince to the gates, then bring him back to the great hall." You stare at your father in surprise, your mouth suddenly dry as you fail to say a response before he bows at the prince and heads back to the hall.

You tried to reach back to your father, but he had already gone back. Now it was just you, your wolf, the dragon, and Jace.

The two of you stare in silence, looking around as you both wait for the first word. Jace let out a chilly breath, nestling his hands in his thick coat as he also felt Vermax shiver.

"Well, does my princess want to stay in the snow a few minutes longer?" Jace says sassily.

You narrow your eyes at him before muttering, "Follow me." silently. Aura and Jace with Vermax follow your steps. Jace ruffles the wolf's head with a slight grin, happy that the direwolf still remembers him.

"Anywhere here is fine." You gesture at the warm roofed space, and Jace nods at you before letting his dragon stay in it.

"Thank you, my princess."

"I told you to stop calling me that. I'm not a princess, more so, your princess." You respond quickly. "Well, to me, you are." He replies in an ambiguous manner, making your eyebrows furrow.

A slight smirk grows on Jace's face as he turns back at you, seeing the glare you had. "And I missed my princess. How long has it been, 10, 12, years?" Jace ponders as he follows you out of the space and back to the great hall.

"You say you missed me, but not a letter nor message has been received from you in those 13 years. Not a visit." You laugh sarcastically.

Jace had his eyes glued on you each passing second, watching the way your eyes held an ounce of fury as you remembered the way you two basically cut each other off 13 years ago.

"Did you miss me? You could have just told me that, you know." He teases, ignoring your whole statement.

You snap your head towards him, a look of disbelief evident on your face at his insinuation. "I most certainly did not miss the prince's irritating and narcissistic presence."

Jace holds his chest, acting like his heart has just been cracked by your words. You roll your eyes at his actions before continuing on walking.

"You wouldn't be this grumpy if you hadn't missed me, princess." He states this in a matter-of-fact tone, smiling smugly at you from behind.

You ignore him, nodding at the guard who welcomed the both of you back into the great hall. As they approach you, the crowd greets you two once more.

"Extend my wishes to your brother. I hope he loves his betrothed as much as you do."

Before you even get to walk away from the prince, he follows you quickly. His arm gently wraps around your back as he joins you, your eyes staring at him in confusion.

"I am as much of a single man as you are a single woman," he whispers close to your ear, pausing to look at the confusion on your face. "I am yet to be betrothed, Y/N. Though I could be..." The prince drags off by the end. He stares at your eyes, mesmerized by your brown eyes just like he always used to be.

You two have gone way back. You both know that. You two walked the thin line between friends and lovers. Too coward to directly ask each other out, at the same time too discontented with the mere title as "friends."

It has been years since you acknowledged that. And you missed him, too. You also acknowledged that—though you refused to admit it. But the thought that he is yet to be wed, yet to be betrothed, the anger you once felt when you thought he had not invited you to his wedding, now disappears. That mere thought gave you some hope that maybe the two of you could cross that line.

"Is that a proposal, Prince Jacaerys?" You inquire, playful teasing evident in your tone. Although it had been a farfetched idea for you, there was still something inside of you that hoped his response would be different from what you were expecting.

You see Jace smile at your question, jerking his head to the side, making you snap your head to where the two of you were. He walked the two of you to the open space, a space for dancing.

You looked at him in a death glare as you mimicked the steps of the other guests around you. Jace, enjoying the situation he put you two in, puts his arm around your waist before moving around you, well-aware of the traditions and dances of House Stark after spending his earlier years with you back in Westeros.

"You are free to interpret it however you like, my princess." Jace says, his voice smooth as he purrs the last two words.

"I am not a princess, Jacaerys." You aggressively pull him by the collar of his thick coat, modifying the dance move a bit as a way to emphasize your point. He smiles at you warmly, holding you between his arms in the next move.

"You could be," he eyes you with a hint of mischief and persuasion on his face. "Depends if you're willing to wed a particular prince, or the prince, perhaps."

[dragonmama76]

Beginnings

Part One Interlude Part Two Part Three

As Eddie held the broken bottle against Steve’s neck, Steve was preternaturally calm.  If asked, he would explain that he had been expecting this for years.  Today was the day that Eddie Munson was finally going to kill him.  He had fought monsters human and decidedly not human, but he always knew deep down that Eddie Munson would be the one to finally end it all.

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

Eddie Munson was a late bloomer and spent his freshman year scrawny and shy. It didn’t help that he was into all kinds of nerd stuff and got bullied relentlessly.  He fancied himself a keen observer of people, though, and over the summer he plotted out a multi step plan to survive high school like it was one of the Dungeons & Dragons campaigns he loved to create.  

First, he spent the summer getting stronger.  He didn’t work out exactly, but he was able to get a summer job as a house painter and by the end he was hauling paint cans up and down ladders like it was nothing.  It also didn’t hurt that puberty finally kicked in and he grew almost a foot.  

Next, he used his newfound cash to update his wardrobe.  Instead of trying to compete with the preppy jocks who tormented him, he went the other way.  He scoured the thrift shops for as much black as he could find and rounded it out with t-shirts from his favorite metal bands.  Black work boots, chains, and a pocket knife became his standard accessories and when Wayne took him to Indy before the start of school he scored a black leather jacket at a nicer second hand store.  Freshman orientation was coming and it would be time to put the final parts of his plan into motion.

The day the freshman came to tour the high school and get their schedules, Eddie was ready.  He leaned against a tree watching the new kids coming and going.  There were a few he clocked as fellow outcasts and nerds and took note.  He would approach them carefully when school started for real.  But at that moment he was waiting for something special.  And then it happened.  A group of three teens made their way to the gym doors, two boys and a girl, dressed like money grew on trees.  One of the boys was taller, more confident, with impeccably styled hair, and best of all, he carried a basketball like he knew what to do with it.  Target acquired.

Steve Harrington’s stomach was all tied up in knots.  He was nervous to be finally starting high school.  Tommy H. and Carol were chattering away but he couldn’t even hear them over the sound of his racing thoughts.  His dad had made it clear what he expected from Steve’s high school career and what the consequences would be if he didn’t follow through.  He doesn’t know what the hell he is doing, but at least maybe if followed his dad’s plan he would finally be proud of him. So he kept his head held high and imagined himself to be that guy.  Fake it ‘til you make it, right?  As he reached the gym door he felt eyes on him and glanced over to see the prettiest guy he had ever seen watching him.  As their eyes met, the boy scowled at him.  Steve winced and stumbled through the door.  What could he possibly have done to piss that guy off already?  “Not a good start, Steve,” he thought as the trio entered the school.  

Steve’s first few weeks of high school would have been pretty great if it wasn’t for his personal bully.  He landed a spot on the varsity basketball team, his teachers were nice enough to explain things twice if he had a question, and even though Tommy H. and Carol were officially dating now, they still included him in almost everything they did.  But when he was walking by himself in the halls, that older kid was always there either glaring or smirking at him.  He actually outright tripped him twice, once into a row of lockers.  Steve apologized at first, thinking maybe he had been at fault for bumping into him or something, but the guy had laughed at him and made some comment about dumb jocks better watch out.  Steve didn’t want to push back.  No matter what personal philosophy his dad ascribed to, Steve didn’t think violence was the answer.  He quickly figured out that the guy only seemed to target him when he was alone, though, so Steve started asking some of the girls in his classes if he could walk them to their next class.  They seemed to like that, and Steve was getting tired of being a third wheel all the time, so he asked a few out on double dates with his friends.  At least his dad would be happy, Steve was already getting a reputation as a ladies man.

Eddie was having the best year ever. Training this jock to be afraid of him, instead of the other way around, was a treat.  Eddie wasn’t a bad kid.  If anyone had called him out on bullying he would have been shocked.  This was a preemptive strike.  This was the ultimate battle of nerd versus jock.  This was war.  And Eddie was winning.  You didn’t have to be a genius to see that this Steve kid was asking for it.  His attitude, his clothes, his HAIR, and his, not at all surprising to Eddie, wild success with the female population of Hawkins High all confirmed that he needed to be taken down a peg.  And in the meantime, Eddie had gathered a crew of freshman nerds to spend time with and mold in his image.  He only needed one more element to complete his campaign against the jocks of Hawkins: A public confrontation.

Steve was starting to become complacent.  His plan to never be alone was working and while the scary kid following him around continued to make his presence known, at least he wasn’t pushing him anymore.  So he thought.  Except one afternoon in the cafeteria Steve’s luck ran out.  He had been balancing his tray on one hand while escorting his most recent conquest with the other when something slammed into him upending the tray of spaghetti.  Tears filled his eyes as the noise around him dimmed.  Why was this happening to him?  He tried to be nice to everyone.  He didn’t start fights or talk shit about people, even when Carol was at her bitchiest.  Why couldn’t he just fly under the radar?  As he looked up to see all eyes on him, the only noise that registered was the loud cackle from the boy next to him.  “I thought you jocks had better balance than that,” sneered his bully.  All the blood in his body seemed to rush to his head and he tried to stay calm, but when he glanced over and saw Lila covered in sauce something snapped.  

“What the hell is wrong with you?”  Steve shouted.  

“Me?” challenged the boy, “Not my fault you’re as clumsy as all get out.”  

Steve didn’t like to fight, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t.  He pushed the taller boy and advanced on him fists clenched tight.  When he got close, a low voice rumbled, “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” as the kid opened his jacket to reveal a knife clenched in his other hand.  Steve’s eyes were wide as he backed away.  “You’re a fucking freak, you know that?  Leave me alone! And leave my friends alone!”  Steve was just posturing at this point, but he kept a healthy distance between them since he sure as hell wasn’t getting in a knife fight, even if they were surrounded by spectators.  

“I AM a freak, and don’t any of you forget it!”  the boy shouted, “And you’d better be afraid if you know what’s good for you.”  

Just then the doors opened and the vice principal walked in. 

“Problems?” he demanded sternly.  

“No, sir,” Steve backed down completely.  “No problems here.” 

 “What about you, Munson?” a steely glare was directed at his adversary. 

 “No problemo.  I was just apologizing to King Steve here for bumping into him.”  The boys separated and Steve escorted Lila to their table, offering to grab extra napkins and helping to calm her down.  

“Nice going, King Steve,” Tommy H. cackled as they sat down.  “Have you ever, just once, won a fight?” 

“Shut it, Tommy.” Steve replied, “You didn’t see it.  That freak actually had a knife.  Stay away from him, he’s crazy and I dunno why but he hates me.”  No one commented when his voice broke at those last words.  “I think you were very brave,” whispered Lila and Steve suddenly felt a little better.

While Steve had beat a hasty retreat, Eddie sauntered over to his usual lunch table with his freshman friends and held his head high. He could feel the guarded looks and shot a feral grin to a group of kids who dared make eye contact. It was the best day of Eddie’s life so far.  He had sealed his reputation as a dangerous freak and he intended to own it every day for the rest of high school.  It would keep his little nerds and outcasts safe, even if he had to keep up the act for the next few years.

[povofjustme]

 The Queen of Death

(2/?)

Fandom: house of the dragon

You read about it many times as a kid

Legends say the island was filled with the strongest and most dangerous warriors

Men and women

The king and Queen throne and crown were made out of there enemy’s

They believe that they are there own ruler, they don’t need the king of king landing telling them what to do

They wear there colors with pride (purple and black)

“The live will walk but the dead will rule”

Mortensen is the family name - the meaning of death

If you were in war with them, just hope you said goodbye to your family

And you could never find them unless they want to be found (they give off Dothraki vibe but without the rape and slavery)

“Who are you?”

You looked around the beach you landed on, your eyes landed on a tall dark longed hair man and your heart stopped when you looked at the man.

“Am y/n Velaryon, I was flying when a storm hit and I seem to land here”

“Velaryon you said” a different voice come out, he seem to be wearing and crown made of bones

“Yes, will half Targaryen… your grace ” y/n

“And the dragon, yours?” Same voice

“Yes, your grace” y/n

“And you survived the storm?” Same voices

“It seem so… your grace”

While you were talking , many people of the kingdom started to come out to see you and your dragon

“ Well my dear, you seem to be the chosen one. I am king Alejandro Mortensen and this my eldest son, Prince Miguel. Please come inside and make yourself at home. You most be cold”

They welcome you in with open arms

Your got to meet King Alejandro family, his wife Queen Mariana, his second Elders princess Sofia and husband youngest prince Antonio

The Queen had got you a room made and had you changed in a more traditional Mortensen clothing.

Princess Sofia and you were the same size so while trying on clothes and got to know each other a little but you still had your guard up

They had asked you to join them for dinner to get to know you better

King Alejandro (bigger version of khal drogo) became king when he was seven and one and meet the queen when he was two and one. They fell in love and he married her

Queen Mariana (looks like Ellaria Sand) come from a small house. She ran away from a marriage that her father tried to force on her. She found herself in the storm as well and landed on this island. The restless history.

Prince Miguel was the one who found you on the beach. You found out he was a year older than you. And was to inherit his father’s. While looking at Miguel, he had this dark look to him. But every time your eyes met his light up a little.

Princess Sofia always had a smile on her face, with much attitude. She seem to be pulled towards you.

And Prince Antonio how to Playboy feel to him. But very open to you about himself. No filter.

“so y/n, what brings you to the island of death?” Antonio

And you couldn’t hold it in any longer , you spent months at Kings Landing, holding in the words in your head, and you only been to this island for less than a few hours, and the pain and emotions were gone

you felt peace here

So you told them everything

To the cheating husband, the best friend’s baby and you going mute

“ I never wanna go back well maybe when I’m stronger but for now I need to find somewhere to call home”y/n

“ you can stay here as long as you need” Miguel

“Really”y/n

“ we need more warriors like you” king

“ l’m not a-“y/n

“ Yes you are and don’t tell yourself that. I see myself in you y/n, we will help you get stronger. Is that right Miguel?” Queen

and since that day, the queen and king has took you as their own

you’ve missed your mom and dad dearly, but you needed a new start for yourself

days turn into weeks, two weeks, turning into into months to months turning into years

and you changed

Miguel told you about the history of the death island. Whoever is to survive the storm, the dead who believes you to be the chosen one.

His father and great grandfather and his great great great grandfather wife all come from the storm. The women came at their weakest point and at the end became the strongest queens

And now you are a warrior and soon to be a wife

Miguel and you fell in love, you’ve never knew you could after Harwin.

It took you a year for you to open about your feelings

He was always good to you, even with the hard look on his face

He will make sure you eat before practice, ask about your day even on his busiest days. And helped you with the wounds that you got from sword fighting

He got on Vermithor good side and always found away to get the dragon some food without flying back in the storms

He taught you everything you know, to hand on hand combat, to fighting with a sword. With him, you became one of the strongest warriors on the island.

He was known to be the most dangerous human on the island. Killed many people and went to war for the first time when he was one and five and lead them to win (Very much Drogo vibe)

And the queen herself molded you, teaching you their language, helping you learn the traditions.

She pushed you and Miguel together with any chance she got, like she said, she sees herself and you and only wanted the best

So after a few years being on the island, you married the heir to the death island.

Now you are known as Princess Y/n Velaryon Mortensen……

Throughout the years, you and Miguel had three children and one on the way 

Your twins boys Jośe and Juan and your baby girl Isabella

You loved your children, only wishing your mother and father could see them

One day, you and Miguel was walking hand-in-hand with your children on the beach, when you saw Vermithor flying away in a hurry 

“Momma, where did Ver go” Jośe asked

“I not sure my love but he always come back” y/n

Vermithor didn’t come back for 2 weeks

A note on the side of his saddle

Leana Velaryon is dead…..



@dramioneforevertilltheend @classicsimpforaaronwarner @ayamenimthiriel @hikaerys

(I hoped you like part two, hold on to your ass bc part 3 in going to be something)

[lauraneedstochill]

My first choice (part 2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eyed prince to fall in love with. pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~8500 (this is why I divided it into 2 parts lmao) warnings: friends to lovers, more angst (death of a parent, attempted harassment), hurt/comfort, an embarrassing amount of softness, Aegon is the smartest one for once author’s note: this is heavily inspired by “Little women” (2019) and Amy March in particular (read the rest of my long-ass explanation in part 1). again, I apologize for the angst! it gets worse before it gets better.

 Part 2. In a room full of art I stare at you.

It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Aemond. Maybe you were too blind to notice until it was too late or maybe you were doomed from the start. From the moment when the boy, who everyone deemed to be intimidating and reclusive, bent down to you to offer help without any hesitation. The second-born son of the King, tall and close-mouthed, surely had more important things to do than waste time on a strange girl crying over her stupid dress — and yet, he only showed you solicitude, asking for nothing in return.

You thought that mayhaps you owed him, and were seeking the opportunity to return the favor. Or at least that’s how you tried to justify the fact that you were looking for him every chance you got. You often found a reason to chat with Aemond during dinners and feasts, feeling bad for him spending time on his own — and you learned that he was very easy to talk to. You made sure to visit the training yard if he was there and sometimes stayed to watch him train for hours, even — or especially — when everyone else already left. His tenacity and strength had certain allure but under all those layers, you saw a lonely boy whose only friend was probably his dragon.

Despite the circumstances and his preferred solitude, Aemond never rejected your company, however sudden it might have been. Even when Aegon foolishly suggested playing hide and seek one evening, bored out of his mind, and you busted into the library and stumbled upon Aemond, who looked like he had no interest in silly games. And yet, when you awkwardly asked for the best place to hide at, he guided you to the enclosed area of the reading room. It was dimly lit by just a few candles and, somewhere between feeling uncomfortable and getting scared, you reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away. Furthermore, he stayed with you and cheered you up with stories about Old Valyria, making you forget about any childish fears.

As the two of you have grown older, you often heard people being frightened by Aemond’s disposition but you found there to be no ground for that. He’s never been rude to you nor had he lost his temper, regardless of circumstances — and the day you saw him without the eyepatch for the first time was the prime example of that. It was getting late and Aegon had too much to drink and, while running around in a drunken stupor, he cut his hand somewhere in the yard. Luckily, the wound wasn’t too deep but he was bleeding and refused to get help, against your best wishes. He was babbling that scars adorn a man��— and then, in an attempt to escape you chasing him, he barged into Aemond’s chambers. You ran in merely a second after, with explanations at the ready, and were met with his younger brother standing there, looking startled. It took you a second to realize he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch.

“My scar will be easier to hide,” Aegon giggled, not recognizing the gravity of the situation.

It was the only time you had to make an effort not to slap him in the face. You thought it was mostly a secondhand embarrassment, which was part of the experience of being Aegon’s friend, but the look on Aemond’s face, hurt and humiliated, also made your heart ache.

“His scar is a reminder of his bravery and the strength of his character that he should only be proud of,” you gave Aegon a death stare. “Yours will be a reminder of your idiocy.”

It seemed to work as his smile vanished and he even muttered an apology, leaving hurriedly to call for the maester. When you turned to Aemond, he already had his eyepatch on, and you fought the urge to come and take him by the hand again. You didn’t want to bother him at such a late hour, so you opted to offer an apology, too, and leave him be.

“His behavior was unworthy. But I meant what I said,” you turned to Aemond on your way out. “And the sapphire looks very pretty,” you could swear you saw a trace of a smile on his face but you chose not to think much of it.

With every encounter, sudden or not, and every conversation, most of which were too short for your liking, you were making more room for Aemond in your heart. You should’ve known you were a lost cause when you actually told yourself — out loud, with hands grabbing the edges of your table — “I will not fall in love with him.” At that point, you already did. He always worked so hard to be seen — and you only had eyes for him all along.

You hid your true feelings well enough for anyone to take notice — but your father was no fool. He also knew better than to meddle with whatever your thinking process was. So he watched from afar for quite some time, until you started catching his curious glances on you every time you went to talk to Aemond. Predictably, after yet another feast he could not resist bringing up the topic.

“Did the royal menace have too many cups of wine again? Haven’t seen him this evening,” he adored Aegon whole-heartedly, and you suspected that their shared love for crude humor was the main reason for that. You didn’t mind.

“Wasn’t that many, actually,” you chuckled. “But he asked me and Aemond to help him to his chambers, said he wasn’t in the mood today.”

“Well, you seem to really enjoy Aemond’s company. I assume that the feeling is mutual?” he looked expressively at you.

Your face grew hot at his words. You also felt your heart break just a little.

“We are merely friends,” you told him, your smile too tense to be believable.

There was a shadow of concern in your father’s gaze, followed by a sad sigh.

“You will let me know if anything changes, though?” he mustered a smile in return and his was much brighter than yours.

“You will be the first one to know,” you promised as he came closer to bring you into a bear hug. You never spoke of it again.

Surprisingly, the only other person who seemed to have suspicions about the nature of your and Aemond’s relationship was his father, the King. You didn’t think he was aware of your existence, and even when your friendship with Aegon grew stronger and you became a regular guest at the castle, you soon realized Viserys barely paid any mind to his younger kids’ whereabouts. You would catch a glimpse of him in the halls and curtsy out of politeness but didn’t expect him to notice. You got too comfortable with his absence — so much so, that one day, when Aegon was carrying your supplies and humorously complained about the lack of art in the castle, you blithely suggested painting a portrait of the King. The last thing you expected was for said man to step out of the corner.

“I would be delighted,” he cut right to the chase. “Lady Y/N, isn’t it?”

He didn’t look scary up close, his face wrinkled and a tad too tired, but quite benevolent. He simply asked if you would be content with drawing him on the Iron Throne and you agreed, just as easily. Truth be told, you didn’t think he would follow up on his offer — being the King and all that, but he sent a carriage down to fetch you literally the next day. Viserys took the task with juvenile ardor, bombarding you with questions — what pose to take, what paint do you use, how quickly will it dry and how did you learn to draw. After he was satisfied with the answers, he changed the subject.

“My wife considers you to have a positive influence on my eldest son,” he pointed out with ill-concealed interest.

“I deeply appreciate her trust but I believe that he is capable of changing on his own,” you corrected him courtly.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he disagreed with a mischievous grin. “I’ve only heard good words about your guidance. It seems that you rein him back so easily, you would’ve made for a fine wife.”

You silently groaned at his comment.

“Your grace, I can assure you, our relationship is strictly of a friendly nature.”

“Oh, I know, I have seen you two,” he said, laughing, and when you peered at him, you saw that it wasn’t his usual uncomfortable-looking crooked grin but an actual genuine laugh.

“Shall you ever lay an eye on any other of my sons,” Viserys continued, much to your surprise. “Do not hesitate to tell me,” and his face suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

You ducked behind the canvas so he didn’t see your heated cheeks.

His suggestion lodged in your memory and even though you wouldn’t dare to actually approach the King, you held out hope that maybe he would give Aemond a similar hint. But months passed, Viserys’s condition drastically worsened, and for whatever reason, he never mended the relationship with his children. And eventually, your hope was gone.

You didn’t lie to Aemond when you told him about having power over who you love. But you failed to mention that said power has its limits — and doesn’t guarantee that your feelings won’t be one-sided. You learned that lesson the hard way when you had to face up to the reality you were in. Your love for Aemond seemed to be as infinite as the ocean — and you had to fit it in a fragile vessel of your heart. At first, you felt the waves raging at the mere glance of his, at every gesture of his goodwill or just upon hearing his voice. The storm of your feelings would splash over the rocks of your self-control but you survived the roaring torrent of love, time after time. The rough ocean grew calm over the years as you came to terms with being in love with someone who didn’t love you back.

You did choose to harbor feelings for Aemond, and you had no regrets about that. But when adulthood came with its own responsibilities that you had to focus on, all your energy was put into finding a husband. You were aware that your choice would have a major impact on your family as their stability depended on it. You approached the issue in a cold-hearted manner, prioritizing the duty above all else. Mayhaps, you were too calculated in your pursuit, and that was how you ended up accepting the courtship of a man who had nothing to give but his wealth.

When it comes to Jason, he never ceases to evoke a few feelings, too, but none of them are pleasant. His arrogance is the first thing that catches the eye — he’s wrapped in it and wears it with pride as if it’s another title of his. You often have to bite your tongue and fake a smile in response to his dismissive remarks and borderline vulgar comments. It doesn’t help that his self-esteem is inflated beyond your comprehension, and if only he could put his own face on their House’s sigil, he would. You are grateful that he keeps his hands to himself but you notice him getting quite handsy with the maids, and it gives you an unsettling feeling. His behavior is so disdainful and frivolous, you have no doubts that once you are married, you will be merely an accessory to him, a pretty wife to show off to his friends without taking your opinion into account. Showing off is the one thing he does best — and each time you can’t help but compare him to Aemond who doesn’t even know how to take a compliment. You find yourself thinking about the prince every time Jason comes by, and these thoughts help you get through tiresome promenades with the lord and endure boring dinners with him.

But after your last conversation with Aemond, you force yourself to stop thinking about him altogether. That decision is remorseless but you believe it’s for the better — or at least that’s what you convince yourself to think after you run out of the garden and into your carriage, only caring about getting home as soon as possible. You pretend that nothing happened, lying to your parents that the prince was too busy and you had to return earlier than planned. And then you lock yourself in your chambers, with hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sound of crying. A small part of you hopes that Aemond will come to you the same day and explain himself. But he doesn’t. When you don’t hear from him for another two days, you come to the conclusion that he regretted his sudden outburst. And that his words actually held no meaning.

Cutting Aemond out of your life does seem to be attainable with some time, and you perceive it as just another task, another skill you can master. But getting him out of your head seems like an impossible goal from the start. You are so used to keeping memories of him, cherishing each and every one, you can’t just erase them all at once. You try your best, you do so with ferocious persistence, but there’s always some annoying little reminder ready to surface and catch you off guard at the most inopportune moment.

It gets even harder when four days later you find yourself sitting next to Jason who is even more presumptuous than usual. At this point, you feel like your nerves are at the limit, so you can’t even find it in yourself to keep up the act. You push your food around the plate, jumping from one pointless thought to another: the tasteless meal, the barely visible crack in your cup, the revolting tone of the lord’s voice. You feel your mother staring at you, clearly displeased with your attitude, yet Jason is oblivious, too wrapped up in bragging about his winery — or whatever else he is talking about, you have no idea because you stopped paying attention about twenty minutes ago.

You think if you stay by his side any longer, you will be physically sick.

So you get up from the table — may be a bit too dramatic for your own liking — and muster out a weak excuse:

“My apologies, I am in need of fresh air.”

You leave before anyone has a chance to stop you.

It seems like an act of disobedience but there’s so much freedom in it, you feel that you can finally take a breath. And you do exactly that once you reach the balcony, several corridors away from the dining hall that felt stuffed with Jason’s ego. As you stand there, soaking up the last rays of the sun, you can’t ignore the obvious question — how is it even possible to marry someone you absolutely cannot tolerate. You never had illusions about the nature of your relationship with him but you at least hoped there would be some ground to build your future on. At yet, right now it looks like you are trying to lay a foundation in the quicksand. For a man of a noble lineage, Jason knows too little of what nobility actually is, and you have enough self-respect to not give him explanations. The prospect of marrying him makes your duty feel like a burden, and you contemplate if you should even take the risk.

You are lost in your thoughts until you hear a thin voice:

“Do you know where the sun lands?”

You turn to find your sister Alyna standing at the door, in her long white nightgown and barefoot, her eyes unnaturally large for her baby-like face. She always talks like that, too thoughtful for her young age, and sometimes she reminds you of Helaena. There you go, another connection to Aemond.

“I do not, my sweetling. Wherever that place is, it’s a well-guarded secret,” you comb her curly hair with your fingers as her curious eyes study your face.

“Maybe it doesn't want to be seen,” she deduces. “Just like you don't.”

Her ability to get straight to the point sometimes blindsides you. It’s also quite liberating to talk to someone who hasn’t yet learned the skill of pretense, and she may be the only sibling of yours with no ulterior motives or hidden agenda. Alyna tilts her head, signaling that she isn’t enjoying your touch anymore — and when you remove your hand, she says, out of the blue:

“Just like Ser Lannister doesn’t.”

You stare at her in bewilderment, and only then notice that the hallway behind her is empty. It dawns on you that Alyna’s nanny Dorea is nowhere to be found. She is only a couple of years older than you, meek and quiet, her trusting nature ever so defenseless — but she is also very pretty. Too pretty for her own good, as your mother likes to say.

You feel a wave of nausea again. This time, it’s followed by a sense of dread curdling in your stomach.

“What did he do?” your voice comes out unusually calm, in striking contrast with how you are really feeling.

“I heard him talking to Dorea outside my chambers. I wanted to join the conversation but he asked me to leave,” her brows slightly furrow. “He said there are some things I am not supposed to see.”

It may be the first thing you and Jason can agree on, you think. It is also the only thing because you certainly will never agree to marry him — and that realization frees you of any false politeness and self-restraint.

“What are those things?” Alyna naively asks, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I shall go and ask him,” you pat her on the cheek. “But you stay here, alright? I will be back before you know it.”

Usually, it would take about a minute to reach your sister’s chambers, but you cover the distance twice as fast. You are a couple of feet away when you hear muffled voices — one is demanding, the other one is scared, and both are well-known to you. You grasp the situation in no time and run to quickly open the door. When you walk in, you feel a flare-up of anger at the sight: Jason grabbed Dorea by the hips, trying to pull her closer, as she weakly protests, her palms pushing at his chest in an attempt to get away. The squeak of the door makes them turn their heads to you, and you see the distressed look on the nanny’s face.

And then their gazes fall behind your back, and Dorea gets horrified.

You easily guess the reason for that — your younger sister isn’t very good at following orders. So Alyna mumbles, standing next to you and looking at her nanny:

“I do not think she likes it.”

“Neither do I,” you throw Jason a baleful stare. “Let her go and get out.”

He removes his hands — so carelessly, it almost seems like he’s offended by your suggestion of his wrongdoing. Dorea immediately comes to your side, ashamed and distraught.

“Did he hurt you?” you inquire, helping to adjust her dress.

“My lady, I think you misinterpreted —” Jason tries to say but you shut him off.

“I am not talking to you,” you scowl in his direction. Your face softens when you ask Dorea again: “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, sheepishly trying to explain:

“I didn’t do anything, I-I didn’t want to, and he said... He said he is a lord and I sh-should be flattered.”

Not only did Jason has the audacity to pull that off but he also wanted to do so at your little sister’s chambers — and you simmer at the thought.

“I believe you,” you gently stroke her shoulder. “I promise you will never see him again.”

“These are some unrealistic expectations,” Jason sneers, walking to you but his grin dies down when you look at him again.

“I know your opinion of women isn’t very high — trust me, the feeling is mutual — but you cannot seriously believe you will fool me,” you sense that now he isn’t pleased with your attitude but you don’t care. “When I told you to get out, I meant it. You are not welcome in this house.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wise decision to make if we are to be wed,” Jason contemptuously hisses.

“Then I guess the wedding is off,” you glare defiance at him. “But whoever you end up marrying, I hope she outlives you. Just so she can spit on your grave,” the last part is meant only for him to hear.

And he definitely does as his face reddens with rage. Jason roughly grabs you by the hand, and your nose fills with the stench of wine when he speaks:

“You are in no position to make demands,” he drawls. “Your family is in debt up to its ears, you little halfwit, so I suggest you choose your words very carefully.”

While he doesn’t see it, Alyna looks between you two, and, out of the corner of your eye, you notice her frowning. She doesn’t do well with conflicts as they upset her deeply, which can only trigger one reaction. Before you can say anything, a high-pitched scream shatters the room, echoing through the whole house.

Jason removes his hand within a second, looking shocked, but Alyna stands innocently with her mouth closed as if nothing happened. Your parents come to her chambers in the blink of an eye.

“What is wrong?” your mother looks at you all uncomprehendingly.

“Ser Lannister got lost,” you cooly explain. “He is already leaving.”

“And why is that?” your father glares at him with suspicion.

You want to spare Dorea the humiliation so you pause for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse. But Alyna has no understanding of what a maiden’s honor is — and she loudly proclaims:

“Ser Lannister was touching Dorea, and she didn’t like it.”

No one in the room needs an explanation for that.

“You shameless scoundrel!” your father roars at Jason, who unsurprisingly isn’t as courageous as before.

“Ser, there clearly has been a mistake — ”

“It was a mistake to let you in,” your father rudely interrupts him. “You won’t set foot in my house ever again. Get out of here before I make you!”

Jason doesn’t need to be told twice and storms out of the room as your father’s gaze follows him. He stands with hands clenched into fists, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“Pompous jerk,” he mumbles under his breath. “And to think that I was willing to give him my daughter’s hand...!” his voice breaks, hoarse with ire, and you notice a vein pop on his forehead. You have never seen him so furious.

“He’s been dealt with,” you cautiously say to ease the tension. “That shouldn’t be a cause for your concern anymore.”

He turns to you, his eyes bloodshot and breathing heavy. As you step closer, you hear whistling sounds with his every breath, and his gaze gets absent. You realize that something is wrong as he opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

“Father, are you alright?”

He places a hand over his heart, trying to inhale, a look of fear in his eyes. The chain of events is too sudden to comprehend: his breathing begins to wheeze as he squirms, falls flat on his back and convulses.

And then your evening turns out to be way worse than you could’ve ever imagined. A week later Aegon wakes up at an ungodly hour — and he’s fueled by sole determination to put an end to everyone’s misery. Surely, he must be the only sane person in his house since all his family members seem to be oblivious to what is going on between you and Aemond. Aegon, however, can use his eyes for their intended purpose — and it is clear as day to him that you and his brother are in love with each other.

He caught on to that pretty fast, although the signs were not that obvious at first: you often smile to people purely out of politeness and Aemond may not show his true feelings even under threat of death. So Aegon kept secretly observing you two, taking note of fleeting glances and light touches, of the way you would relax in Aemond’s presence, the way he was always too eager to help you with whatever you needed, and how you two would gravitate toward each other. Both his brother and his best friend were annoyingly stubborn about making their own decisions so Aegon didn’t mean to interrupt — or at least he tried not to. But when your evident mutual pining stretched into years, Aegon started losing his patience.

In the beginning, he initiated small things, asking Aemond to come and greet you (“Oh, I just woke up! And you are already dressed for the occasion”), to deliver you his hand-written message (“Yes, it is incredibly important and I trust no one but you!” — it was his doodling of Aemond), to keep you company during the feast while Aegon stepped out for a moment (he didn’t come back). He asked him to switch places at dinner (so you and Aemond could sit together), to help find the books you wanted (“All those years of you reading should be good for something”), to pick up the portrait of his children (“They are your nephews, is it so hard?! No, I am not being dramatic!”). A couple of times he even pretended to be way more drunk than he actually was just so you and Aemond could help him to his chambers and spend some time alone in the process. None of that worked. At some point, he seriously contemplated locking you both in a room but then came to the conclusion that you would rather team up to find a way out than confess your feelings. Truly, it seemed hopeless, and Aegon thought that maybe he should give up.

But as of recently he couldn’t help but notice that something was clearly off between you and Aemond, although the younger prince refused to talk about it, and you simply stopped visiting the castle. He decided to give it a day or two, hoping that you would sort things out and refusing to even consider the opposite. A week passed and nothing changed, and Aegon cannot bear looking at Aemond’s sour face any longer. So the older prince comes up with a plan.

He is unexpectedly the first one at the breakfast table and everyone who walks in shoots him a surprised glance. They are amazed even more to see that Aegon isn’t drinking which is as rare as a miracle. Aemond comes last and he is the only one who doesn’t notice the change, too wrapped up in his thoughts. Another thing that goes unnoticed is the gleam of sadness on their mother’s face.

Five minutes in, Aegon clears his throat to attract everyone’s attention.

“So, I was thinking,” he drawls loudly.

“That does not sound good,” Otto mutters, unimpressed, which Aegon chooses to ignore and continues.

“Lady Baratheon’s poor taste in men shouldn’t be an obstacle in our way of reaching the grand goal.”

“Which is...?” Otto asks while the younger prince doesn’t move an ear.

“To find a lady worthy of my brother, of course!” Aegon tries his best to say it with a straight face.

Aemond spares him a glance. “I didn’t know you took much interest in that.”

“I always have your best interest in mind,” Aegon slaps him on the shoulder earning a disgruntled hum in return.

“I was just thinking if we should go over the list of requirements once more,” Aegon suggests.

“I don’t have a li—”

“Of course you do!” another slap. “At the very least, she should be of a noble kind. Am I right?”

“Sure,” Aemond absentmindedly agrees.

“And we are definitely looking for someone who is keen on reading.”

“Yes,” Aemond rolls his eye and looks at his plate, already showing no interest in the conversation. That is exactly what Aegon wants — and he starts talking a bit faster:

“Someone with a flexible nature...”

“U-hmm.”

“And with a kind heart...”

“Yes.”

“A great listener...”

“Uh-huh”

“Who will attend to your every need...”

“Sure.”

“And may even be of indescribable beauty...”

“Hmm.”

“...And you will still be miserable because you love Y/N.”

“Yes,” Aemond says without thinking — and then it’s too late to take his word back because everyone’s eyes are already on him. When he turns to his brother, Aegon has a shit-eating grin on his face:

“You are welcome.”

Alicent looks genuinely confused. “Aemond, but why haven’t you mentioned it?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question for years,” Aegon snorts, and Otto raises an eyebrow.

“Years?” his grandsire questions.

“I almost gave up on him,” Aegon keeps talking while his brother just sits there, eye glued to the table.

“She was the one who drew the portrait of our father,” Helaena cheerfully speaks up. “And he kept it.”

“He did,” Alicent nods and gives her son a sympathetic look. “Aemond, she is an admirable young lady. No one would have spoken against it if only you —”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Aemond cuts her off, averting his gaze. “She is to be betrothed to Ser Lannister, and I do not intend to ruin her plans.”

“You cannot be serious!” Aegon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shall you find the courage to propose, she will immediately reject him!”

“She already did,” Alicent avows, to everyone’s surprise.

Aemond looks up at his mother in an instant.

“Did she?” he asks in disbelief.

Alicent gives him a wan smile.

“A week ago, yes. It is rumored that his behavior... left much to be desired,” she explains half-heartedly. Her face, however, doesn’t show any signs of happiness.

“That seems like a reason to celebrate but it doesn’t sound like it,” Aegon looks at her questioningly, and Aemond tenses up in anticipation.

Alicent dithers as her face falls, eyes getting woeful and voice feeble.

“Her father fell ill that very day. Some say he got too upset with the whole situation, and I...,” she takes a deep breath. “I received a message this morning. He passed away three nights ago.”

Everyone falls silent, their faces showing shock that is quickly replaced by sadness.

“Seven hells,” Aegon mumbles.

Aemond doesn’t utter a word, feeling his heart sinking. He knows that you’ve always been your father’s daughter, and the prince cannot even begin to imagine how heartbroken you are right now. He should’ve been there for you, he thinks, full with remorse and guilt.

“You should go,” Aegon turns to him, not a hint of jesting in his voice. “We may give her some time to grieve, but I will gladly take Sunfyre out for —”

“Why would you need to?” Aemond gives him a puzzled look. “I can take Vhagar.”

Aegon emits a long-drawn groan and says to no one in particular:

“And to think he is the smartest one? I am having doubts”, he then glances at Aemond with reproach. “I am sure her mourning family will not at all get terrified at the sight of your monstrous dragon.”

His brother mulls over the idea.

“It is not safe to fly drunk.”

“I will be stone-cold sober.”

“You believe both of us will fit into the saddle?” 

“We will fit just fine, can you stop with your excuses?! I am being reasonable for once, and you are making me regret it!”

“I don’t think it would be wise,” Otto cuts in their bickering, and both princes turn to him.

He holds pause with a blank stare before a sly smile crawls out on his face.

“I would rather recommend the prince goes right away. We don’t want her family to make any rushed decisions,” their grandsire advises, earning a sign of relief from Aegon, who jumps out of his chair.

“We’re leaving this very second! Do I need to drag you out of your —”

“You do not,” Aemond stands up in a hurry — and then Aegon still grabs him by the hand, pulling his brother out of the room.

Alicent gazes fondly after them.

“It was very kind of you,” she says to her father without looking at him.

Otto thinks that, with how well you’ve been handling Aegon, marrying you to Aemond would be a blessing. Because gods know, he is fed up with them both.

On their way to the Dragonpit Aegon can barely hold back his excitement but his brother’s mind is clearly elsewhere. The older prince lets Aemond take time to gather his thoughts and doesn’t bother him along the road. But once they reach the cavernous building and both pop out of the carriage, Aegon decides some encouragement would be fitting. 

“Have I ever told you how I met her? That day at the feast?”

Mentioning your name always works wonders — Aemond turns to him in a flash.

“I was jesting around and she was the only one who didn’t laugh at my jokes. At all. Just stood there with a straight face and ignored me. Can you imagine?” 

Aemond does know the unimpressed look you usually give Aegon, and it causes him to let out a dull chuckle.

“Took me good five minutes to even make her smile — and, frankly, my success didn’t last very long. Pretty sure half of my jokes landed flat. But you know what was the real issue?” Aegon’s smile is melancholic. “Most of the evening she kept asking about you.”

Aemond looks like the very epitome of heartbreak. Not only was he blind, he was also an idiot, he realizes.

“I know, I should’ve told you sooner,” Aegon gives him an apologetic look.

Aemond shakes his head. “I should’ve told her sooner.”

“Well, it’s only been what, seven years?” his brother chortles weakly while the dragon keepers finally bring out Sunfyre, and the dragon casts Aemond a curious look.

Aegon approaches the beast first, running his hand over the scales that shine bright in the sunlight, and the prince can never get tired of that blinding beauty. But his excitement mingles with another feeling.

“I value her friendship, you do know that, right?” he squints at Aemond, who simply nods.

“This is my way of saying that if you mess it up, I might push you off my dragon on our way back,” Aegon casually remarks, grabbing the rope to climb up.

Aemond falters with answering, reluctant to admit.

“There is a chance that I already messed it up.”

Aegon looks down at his brother and gives him a stern glare.

“Unmess it, then.” You don’t remember much from the past week, your days and nights blurred into one another. The only thing that stays on your mind is your father’s face — you can still see it so clearly, with his gentle gaze and his every wrinkle, the corners of his mouth always upturn like he’s a second away from smiling. You also remember how that face contorted in pain, how his body stiffened, and that scene plays on repeat in your head, over and over. And then there are only pieces of memories, torn and mushed together, and you can’t find it in yourself to sort them out.

You spend all your time at your father’s bedside, with a string of never-ending prayers falling from your lips. They don’t seem to help — and nor do the maester’s efforts, and you lose hope with each passing minute. As hours fly, you get a very bad feeling that soon turns into blood-curdling awareness. Deep down, you know what’s to come, and you hate yourself for it. You think you will never stop crying but by the time the maester declares your father’s demise, there are no tears left. Death has many faces — none of them looked at you with mercy.

Your mother wails, overtaken by despair, your sisters don’t leave her side, eyes puffy and full of sorrow, and you are sure that you look the same — yet you feel completely empty. There’s a cleft in a place of your heart, and all the feelings seemed to flow out, leaving you drained and emotionless, but it brings you no relief. Everything in your house reminds you of your father, his presence tangible in the rooms and in the halls, his image still as clear as a reflection in the mirror. The memories of him crawl out of every corner, seep from under the doors, fall on you along with the dust you brush off his things that you can’t make yourself take away.

Stacks of hardcovers with bookmarks in the middle.

The unfinished cup of wine.

The long grey coat hanging on the back of his chair.

Piles of letters left unanswered.

Parchments, ink and a quill that he will never use again.

All the pieces of him that you can’t look at, don’t want to look at — yet it’s all you see, and there’s is no hiding from it. You feel trapped in your own house, and you wait for the walls to collapse so maybe under the weight of them you will find some peace. You are restless in your grief, you are drowning in it.

The day of the funeral leaves a blank space in your memory, void of colors and sounds apart from everyone’s crying. The ceremony is rushed and there is only a handful of family members since your mother couldn’t bring herself to tell everyone yet. You don’t blame her for it — you think she’s too afraid to say it out loud, afraid that speaking the words will make them real, and she’ll have to finally accept his death. You have no problem with acceptance, you just don’t know how to move on. How to stay strong when you are shattered beyond repair.

Your home now feels like a coffin but everyone expects you to be in charge, so you force yourself to. Merely an hour after his body was buried in soil wet with rain, you find yourself sorting out his papers. You look through his diary, his scribbled notes, the calculations he made in attempts to stabilize the emptying coffers. He’s always been the responsible one, keeping count and cutting costs, planning for the future — and yet he’s been robbed of it. None of it makes sense to you and your father isn’t there to teach you. You clench your teeth in frustration, and it makes you want to put your head through a wall.

You push through the second and the third day. You give orders to the maids, who walk on eggshells around the house, sharing concerned looks. You take it upon yourself to bring meals to your mother and all but spoon-feed her so she at least will have some energy to get up from bed. She doesn’t — while you want nothing more than to get away. You’ve had a fair share of responsibilities your entire life but now there’s an abundance of them and it puts you in a chokehold, and you are all alone in your discomfort which brings you no respite at all.

On the fourth day you wake up feeling like the walls are closing in and you can’t breathe, the need to leave anchoring in your lungs. You don’t want to waste another second as you put on a coat right on top of your nightgown, frightened that each moment of stalling might lead to you being dragged into the same routine again. But the house is asleep, and the sun has barely risen when you tiptoe out of your room. You only wake up one maid, telling her you’ll go for a walk so your sudden absence doesn’t come off as a deed of cruelty.

You step outside and close the door behind your back, taking a slow, deep inhale. And just when the guilt is about to sneak up on you — you dart off into the morning fog.

The air is fresh and cooling against your skin as you run away from your house and through the trees, not minding the branches or the damp ground. You breathe the crisp air in, and it makes your body feel weightless, and you speed up, leaving no chance for the responsibilities to catch up with you. Patches of the forest, splattered with all shades of green, bushes and weeds that graze your knees — you pay them no attention as your feet carry you further away, up the hill, to the most remote place you can think of. You don’t know how long it takes for you to reach the narrow wooden bridge and cross the remaining field that ends with a cliff, but when you finally do, your feet ache and your lungs burn and you gulp air.

The sky is draped by the light layer of clouds but the blue of it stretches as far as the eyes can reach, and the movement of the sea can be seen in the distance. The morning is still with silence and it welcomes you, the fresh breeze encircling your body. The feeling of it isn’t gentle as the wind instantly bites every part of your skin that is covered with sweat. You should’ve worn thicker layers, you shouldn’t have rushed, maybe you shouldn’t have come at all — but you are too tired of thinking, of restrictions. Of yourself.

You let the cold seep in and pierce you to the marrow as you watch the waves meeting the horizon. You then close your eyes, hands coming up to cross over your chest. It’s an oblivion of some sort — with no demands and no tears, it’s only you and the wind. The empty space around you matches the emptiness in your heart, and the beating of it sounds like a hollow note. You feel nothing, you feel numb, but it’s so tranquilizing, you can’t help but give in, just to stop brooding for a few minutes — or maybe hours, you care not.

In this state of torpor, you almost miss the sound of wings cutting through the air. When you open your eyes, you only catch a shadow hidden by the clouds and a glimpse of gold but it’s still enough to guess. Sunfyre. At any other time, Aegon’s visit would’ve brought you joy yet right now it feels useless against the doldrums of your soul. At least your sisters will be happy to see him, you think, not having the slightest desire to move from your spot. The wind is now howling, the grass is rustling — and then the small measured sound joins the melody of nature. It sounds like someone’s approaching but their step is nearly noiseless. There is only one person who walks like that, and the realization brings you out of your trance.

You turn to Aemond before he can say anything, your gaze meeting his, and he immediately stands still. The distance between you is just like before, and you only now grasp the amount of time that has passed. You haven’t seen him in two weeks — and so much has changed, and nothing is the same — but when you look at Aemond, at every painfully familiar feature of his, your heart twinges. You really, really missed him, and it’s the first thing you feel in fourteen days.

He notes your lack of protest and hesitantly comes toward you, only pausing when he’s at arm’s length. His cheeks are flushed pink from the wind, the collar of his coat raised to the angles of his jaw.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” his tone is filled with sadness. “Even if you despise me.”

“I could never,” you mirror the words he once said but your voice comes out too quiet and blank.

There is only compassion and understanding in his gaze, and you are hungry for both, so you don’t break eye contact. He doesn’t, either, and reaches out a hand — it moves to your shoulder as he says:

“I am so sor—” when his fingers come in contact with you, Aemond suddenly stops talking, and his eye darts to your arm. There is a flicker of confusion on his face that quickly turns into worry.

“You are freezing,” he breathes out, and his worry grows stronger in an instant.

Aemond cautiously guides his hand up and down your arm — you see the movement, clear as day, but you don’t feel it at all.

“I didn’t really notice,” you mumble.

You want to tell him that staying with your family drove you up the wall, that you lost sleep and the nights bring you no rest, that you accept your emptiness and loathe it. But the wind is still howling, your mind is clouded with exhaustion, and you are afraid that Aemond will get angry at you.

Instead, he pleads.

“Let me take you home,” he continues caressing your arm. “Please, let’s go back. You can’t —”

“I don’t want to,” you retort, and all the unsaid words bubble up and pour out. “I could not stay there any longer, it was all too much, I needed a break, I — it just made me feel like...,” your skin finally absorbs the heat of his touch which sends goosebumps down your spine, and you get short of breath.

“Like I wanted to disappear,” you say, voice barely above the whisper.

Your confession hangs in the air, and you catch that same unreadable emotion in his eye. Three heartbeats later Aemond removes his hand, and the absence of it threatens to strip you of your short-lived comfort. But then he unbuttons his coat — and opens his arms to you:

“Disappear here.”

His words break the ice of your numbness, filling your lungs with air — so much of it, you almost feel light-headed. You are cold, and you are lonely, and you missed him. In a heartbeat you fall into his embrace, with the same force one may plummet down from a cliff — only instead of waves, you are welcomed by his warmth, and you instantly sink into it.

Aemond takes you under his coat, gently putting it over your body, and then holds you tight. You instinctively wrap your hands around his waist, nestling against his chest. Your cold palms glide over his shirt, and Aemond involuntarily shivers but doesn’t budge. He starts slowly stroking your back, and you soak up the calmness that radiates off him. His touch is soothing, quieting your mind, and you lose yourself in the serenity that it brings. 

You are both lost in time, standing quietly, as your body gradually warms up and relaxes. You listen to his heartbeat, the rhythm of it even and lulling, and it makes you feel at peace.

When Aemond looks at you clinging to him, his heart swells with so much love, he can barely contain it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It all happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. Everyone expects something from me now and I... I wish he was still here.”

“Your father was the kindest man I have ever met,” his voice is laced with sorrow. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. I should’ve come sooner but I only found out this morning.”

“And you came,” you remark delicately. “It’s all that matters.”

You snuggle up to him even more and relish in the feeling of his body close to yours, finding solace in it. You let yourself forget about everything else in the world, comforted by his kindness as he shields you from all the worries and the troubles of life.

“Whose idea was it to take Sunfyre?”

“Aegon’s,” the prince chuckles. “He was very persuasive, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he waiting for you on the hill?”

“He went to see your family, offer his condolences. And maybe complain a little since he didn’t particularly enjoy the flight.”

You try imagining the two of them squeezed into the saddle, and you know Aemond must’ve teased Aegon all the way to your house. You feel the tickling of laughter in your throat but it doesn’t go higher and then dissolves. Still, it’s a start.

“How much do you regret agreeing to that?”

Aemond pauses — and then his low voice vines through your hair:

“Right now, I don’t.”

You feel his heart skipping a beat, and for some reason, his pulse speeds up. You wonder what the reason may be, and your cheeks heat up when you are struck by the answer you can’t dare to hope for.

Or maybe you can.

“I’m not marrying Ser Lannister,” you blurt out, your own chest vibrating with anxiety. 

Aemond pulls away just a bit, only to have a look at you.

“I heard about that,” he reveals. “He was never a good —”

“You are under no obligation to say anything or do anything,” you cut him off, nervously lowering your gaze, because if he tries to pity you it will break your heart all over again, and you cannot bear it right now. “I just... I knew I would never love him. So I believe it’s only for the best.”

You keep babbling, but he hardly listens, his eye fixed on your face. Aemond isn’t sure you fully allow yourself to be this vulnerable with anyone. But it’s his favorite side of yours — with your bashful sincerity, your overly complicated explanations that he understands with ease, your habit of talking with hands, with your searching gaze and your eyes bright with life. It’s all the little things that he adores.

It’s what makes his feelings finally spill over.

“...But we don’t need to talk about it, you don’t need to say anyth—”

His touch is so gentle, you barely register when Aemond puts a finger beneath your chin, lifting your head to look at him — and then suddenly his lips cover yours. His mouth is even warmer than his hands, and he gives you a couple of seconds to make sure you won’t pull away. And then he starts kissing you, slowly and steadily, in a way you could only dream of.

Aemond gently cradles your head, his lips are soft and ardent — they meld with yours, and time freezes and sounds fade as you melt into the kiss, into his touch. And at that moment nothing else matters. You are wrapped in his tenderness, the ocean of feelings flooding your body, and he enters your heart like he owns it. He always did.

Aemond is the one to break the kiss, sensing that you are gasping for air. You slowly open your eyes in a daze, as if you’ve been awoken from a dream.

“I will take care of everything,” he affirms, his mouth still only a couple of inches away. “You do not have to worry about a thing.”

One of your hands moved on top of his chest, and you feel that his heart rate is back to normal. The pounding of it pulls you back to reality.

“You mean that?” you whisper. “Aemond, I don’t have that much to offer.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leaves a trail of light kisses up to your temple.

“You have everything a man can wish for,” he reassures you, and his gaze finds yours again. “Everything I have ever wished for.”

The prince takes your face between his hands, and his thumbs follow the contours of your cheeks.

“Even in a room full of art I can only look at you,” Aemond murmurs, his words are flamelike and go straight to your heart, making it flutter.

Only now you notice that the sun emerged from the clouds, and the golden light illuminates everything around you. You bask in it as well as in Aemond’s affection — and he makes you feel seen, safe, cared for. Loved.

“That was very poetic of you,” you tilt your head and lean closer to him.

“I agree with poets on one thing — we have no control over who we love. But I have never regretted loving you,” he can’t stop himself from placing a kiss on the edge of your mouth. “And if I had to choose, it would still be you.”

When you meet his gaze, this time you read it with ease — and you are sure it’s a mere reflection of your own. An overwhelming feeling sweeps over and spreads through you. But the ocean is calm, and you are not cold anymore — and Aemond does love you, after all.

You feel your mouth quirk in a smile, genuine and a very happy one. Aemond presses his forehead to yours and promises:

“From now on, you will always be my first choice,” and then you see him trailing for your lips.

And you believe him.

the taglist: @greenowlfactif, @mischiefmanaged71, @pasta-rask, @imjustboredso, @iiamthehybrid, @m00n5t0n3, @crispmarshmallow, @bellaisasleep, @aemondssuit, @ipadkidsworld, @itisjustwhatitis, @maximizedrhythms, @fckwritersblock, @hiatuswhore, @fantasyreader130, @bibli0thecary, @teapartydreams, @kyuupidwrites, @thelittleswanao3 (I couldn't tag some of you for whatever reason, so I'll just message you guys)

yep, it’s me again!

the title is someone’s quote (I have no idea where it’s from, pls help a girl out)

“Disappear here” are Jonathan Carroll’s words that have been engraved in my memory for years and they just popped into my head while I was writing in a haste and only then I realized wait, technically it’s a quote, you can’t do that?! but guess what, I did! I also tried to rephrase these two words but it looked weird so I’m letting you know that I suck as a writer

the bit when she babbles and he looks smitten with her — I couldn’t help but think of that scene from “North and South” (it screams Aemond to me!)

I imagined the cliff to look like this 🍃

I originally planned to turn the romance down just a notch ’cause I already have 4 sappy fics and I wanted this one to be more “realistic” but… oh well, me and romance go hand in hand, apparently.

you will see this version of Aegon more often because I enjoyed it immensely!

what do you guys think? comments and opinions are VERY welcome! 🥺 ✨ my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[nerdanel01]

When We Were Young

Emmrich/F!Rook 1.5k+ wc / Mostly SFW but strongly implied sexual content Things don't always work the way they used to when you are older. Rook assures Emmrich that's just fine by her.

9:52 Dragon

It was morning, or whatever passed for morning in the strange, liminal space of the Lighthouse. Late morning, by the smell of it; aromas of coffee and fried potatoes and eggs were beginning to drift up the stairs. Lucanis, no doubt, at work again in the kitchens. The allure of his cooking and the growl of her stomach had at last convinced Agnes to drag herself away from their post-coital embrace. She sat on the edge of the bed, her back towards him, and though Emmrich knew it was long past time to rise he could not help but linger over the sight of her as she pulled on clean socks, clean smallclothes: the working muscles of her bare shoulders, the small of her back…. 

How lucky he was! Not only to have her back after all this time, but to have her like this—to have this intimacy and unbound affection that he had craved when they had been together in the Mourn Watch. A desire he had never been bold enough to voice, to near catastrophic consequences. He was grateful every day that fate had brought them back into each other’s lives. He should be nothing but grateful now, grateful and in awe of her. And yet….

And yet even after they had worked past it, he could not shake the lingering sense of embarrassment he felt about his inability, however temporary it may have been, to perform earlier that morning as desired.

“Nessa, I’m…” his throat felt dry even thinking about it, never mind speaking about it. “I am sorry. About the… the difficulties.”

Agnes turned to flash him a look over her shoulder: half amused, half chiding, entirely loving. “Emmrich, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about,” she told him, as she bent over in search of her trousers, discarded in carnal haste the night before. “Spending time with you like this, being close to you… every day, I look forward to ending the day in bed with you. I love it.”

She was not even looking at him, and still he could not look at her, fiddling instead with the rings on his fingers as he responded with no small measure of self-contempt: “Just as much as, I am sure, you love the feeling of flaccid arousal in your mouth.”

Agnes straightened, trousers in hand, to flash him a smile that was entirely more indecent and more sincere than he deserved. “Mmm. Indeed, when it is yours.” Planting a hand back in the mattress to brace her self, she leaned over him, pressing a kiss beneath his jaw and purring against his neck: “And as I recall, it did not stay that way for long—you seemed to enjoy it just as much as I did, once you stopped punishing yourself over it.”

Emmrich was spent from it, had nothing left to give, but still he felt himself grow warm and tingling at her warm mouth on her neck. “We got there eventually,” he said, still not totally absolved of his shame. “I am sorry that I am not as young and virile as I was when you first met me.”

Agnes pulled away, eyebrows drawn together, eyes narrowed. “That is a crazy thing for you to apologize for. You’ve only become more devastatingly handsome with time,” she said, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to the center of his palm, to his wrist. Then she released it, turning away from him and bending over to slip her feet into her trousers. “Besides, I’m not exactly a pretty young thing anymore myself, Emm.”

“Nonsense,” Emmrich scoffed. His fingers followed her, skirting across her skin, tracing the dimples in the small of her back… caressing the scars of wounds he was sure she had not borne when she had left Nevarra City. “You are the youngest, prettiest thing in this Lighthouse.”

Agnes laughed. “Though I am susceptible to flattery, especially from you, that is just a flat out falsehood,” she said, lifting her waist up just enough to scoot her trousers over her hips. “You know we are the oldest people here. Save Solas, of course.” 

“Well, you are certainly the prettiest,” Emmrich insisted again. His hand crept around the waistband of her trousers, fingertips hooking into them to hold her in place as he pressed a kiss (slow, deliberate) to the scar that ran across her lower back. “Certainly to me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Agnes teased. She twisted, seated herself so she was facing him, one leg folded in front of her, the other still dangling off the mattress towards the floor. Taking Emmrich’s hand, threading her fingers between his, she added, still joking, “Bellara is exceptionally beautiful.”

But there was no hiding from Agnes, not after all the long years they had known each other—the playful smile fell from her lips as she took note of the traces of shame and regret on Emmrich's face. Anyone else in their party might have missed them, but not her. “What is it?”

Emmrich gathered the courage to meet her grey eyes with his own. Sighed deeply. “If only I had seen you then,” he managed, quietly. “Seen you sooner. When we were young. Then we would not have…” Would not have been separated. Would not have lost so much time. (Refused to allow himself to think: could have had children. ) “Will you ever forgive me for that?”

Her expression softened, and she huffed a little melancholy sigh of her own. “Do you forgive me? ” she pressed, turning the tables on him. “We are both equally accountable for that… that terrible misunderstanding, the one that drove us apart.” She lifted her free hand to his face, gently combing stray hairs back from his brow. “I was not honest with you when I could have been. Instead, I ran. And I am so sorry for the pain that caused us.” Then, after a moment of deliberation, confessed, “but I am not sorry for running away.”

“What do you mean?”

A kind of grimace flickered over her face, a smile that had been meant to reassure him falling flat. “I was not ready,” Agnes told him, after a moment of hesitation. “If we had fallen into each other then, when we were young… I am afraid it would not have worked between us. I needed to grow up.” Curling his hair carefully behind his ear, “It was a favor you did me in the end, turning me loose like that.”

“Turning you out of the Mourn Watch?” Emmrich asked, incredulously. Agnes had not told him everything about the two years she’d spent on her own in Tevinter, but from what little she had told him and from the evidence of the scars on her body, those years had not been easy. “Into the world, into danger, all alone?” 

Agnes nodded, smiling again. “It taught me who I really was.” Squeezing his hand, she told him, “It made me brave enough to fight for you, after I overcame the initial shock of seeing you again. And besides,” she said, a delicious salaciousness creeping into her voice as she leaned over him, brushing her lips against his: “this is more fun.” Pressing first one kiss to his lips, then another, she whispered, “I like being boss.”

A pleasurable shiver ran through him. “I am at your command, Rook.” He groaned more than spoke the low words into the narrow space between them, then opened his mouth to hers.

Agnes gave a little moan of approval, kissing him deeply enough to leave her fighting to catch her breath when she at last pulled away. “Then I command you to stop thinking about—what did you call it? ‘The difficulties,’ ” she said, rubbing the edge of her nose against his before she straightened, the better to look him in the face. “I am not… obviously, I enjoy the sex. It is… in short, tremendous. But that is not why I loved you before all this began, and it is far from the only reason I love you now. You are…”

“What?”

Biting her bottom lip, unable to hold back the warmth in her voice and the grin that split her face like sunshine, she told him, “You are perfect. To me.” 

Well, he could not just let her get away with that.

Agnes was stronger than he was, but Emmrich had the advantage of surprise; he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back down into the bed, into his embrace. Agnes shrieked in surprise, then laughed, knocking her fists playfully against his arms.

“Let me go! What happened to being ‘at my command?’ Emmrich, let go, it’s breakfast, we need to join the others—!”

“No,” Emmrich said, plainly, as he began to kiss his way down her neck, between her breasts. “It will not kill them to wait a little bit longer.”

“Insubordination!” Agnes gasped, as his lips trailed down the soft swell of her stomach, as his fingers worked to unfasten the trousers she had just pulled on.

“Precisely,” Emmrich hummed against the curve of her hip bone, then hooked his fingers under the band of trousers and smallclothes alike and pulled them down, over her waist, past her thighs, her knees. Did not bother to conceal the sound of anticipatory pleasure he made at the sight of the soft, curled black hair between her legs.

“As much as you like being boss, I know too well how much you love it when I disobey.”

[animusxy]

Aemond Targaryen with a Blind! reader, Pt 1.

Summary: Aemond meeting and befriending the reader after she finds him crying over the cruel comments of his missing eye by the servants of the Red Keep. Reader is from a noble family and completely blind, a bit of a renowned sweetheart as well.

Warnings: Allusions to Parental Neglect towards Reader.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 3.5 / Part 4 / Part 4.5 / Part 5

Aemond had met you when you'd first come to court with your mother and father. You were both around the same age, so it was encouraged but not forced that the two of you spoke together.

You were both around 13 at the time but Aemond was older than you by nearly 10 moons.

Although this was mainly for alliance purposes, your parents never expected you to get married with your condition. So close friends were the next best thing.

Besides everyone who had met you could say that you were a kind and caring person, so most people you met were willing to lend a hand if your family needed it.

The two of you didn't meet face to face until around a week after your arrival.

You were sitting in the Godswood of the red keep, feeling around the flowers beneath the Heart Tree. The flowers were most likely 'Dragon Breath' but you couldn't see its shape nor colour so you wouldn't know for sure unless someone told you. You could only feel around the leaves and stem.

Now, the funny thing about being born without functioning eyes is that your other senses are somewhat more advanced. You can hear more than what others do and are far better at perceiving what sounds could be (purely because it's the only thing you can do when you can't see)

So, you could hear the sounds of quiet crying before said crying person realised you were there. Instead of staying where you were of leaving them to their own devices, you decided to approach them.

It took a bit longer than what you would've liked considering that you kept stumbling over roots and rocks, but it seemed that the person, male presumably, was too preoccupied to realise that someone had arrived from behind.

"Hello?" You spoke gently, not wanting to startle them too much. You heard their breath hitch and they sniffled. You could imagine that they may have been embarrassed about being caught crying here. So, you spoke up again before they got too upset.

Aemond hadn't recognised you at first, after all he'd never met you before, but he knew off you. His mother had warned him and his siblings to be careful as you had 'seeing difficulties' as his mother had put it, not wanting to be rude in the face of your parents. However, your mother had, surprisingly, referred to you as being 'as blind as a bat'.

He introduced himself reluctantly, not wanting to be seen as a Prince who was a cry-baby but many servants had spoken about your kind nature so it seemed as though you wouldn't hold it against him. He was right.

You asked why he was crying, promising that you wouldn't dare speak of it (which was also true). Naturally, he was hesitant to release this information, so you asked him if it was about his looks. Since your arrival you had heard next to nothing about the younger prince besides from his 'hideous' appearance.

Apparently, he'd lost an eye in a fight with his nephews at Lady Laena's funeral after claiming the largest dragon living in the world.

He responded to your question with a small yes. If you had regular senses, you probably wouldn't have heard it, even though you were sitting next to him now.

To most young ladies, it seemed as though the eye was too much, and they disregarded all else there was to the prince. It was understandable that he was so upset. He'd now taken to wearing an eye patch to lessen their harsh words but even that wasn't enough.

Honestly, you weren't sure what you could say to make him feel better. You couldn't just say that it was alright, because it simply was not. You couldn't say that looks didn't matter because while they might not to you (because, well, you can't see) they most certainly did to him.

Instead, you turned the conversation towards something different. Anything you could think of that Aemond would enjoy. How was his training going? Did he have any lessons today? It didn't seem much to you, just a way to get his mind off of things without talking about his eye.

Little did you know that it was exactly what he needed. He didn't want to talk about his eye anymore. He just wanted to forget about it for now.

And what better way to do that then with someone who couldn't even see the damage?

His mother was pleasantly surprised to hear that he'd talked with you. Aemond wasn't much of a social child, so it came as somewhat of a shock.

What came as more of a shock was how these conversations continued.

There wasn't really much you could do, or rather was allowed to do, due to your disability.

You couldn't sew pretty shapes and pictures onto a piece of fabric, you couldn't write letters or read them. You certainly weren't allowed to help with any meals or chores considering how you'd just bump into things or cut yourself.

Oh, how Aegon loved to tease you over that. You never got annoyed at him for it surprisingly, mostly because you also believed that it was rather stupid how little you were able to do.

Aemond found that due to this you spent much time in the gardens feeling the flowers and the grass. Trying to see if you could perhaps differentiate different flowers.

He knew Helaena would love to be your friend when he found that out.

He sat with you between his lessons and confirmed different species of flowers using a book he'd gotten from Helaena.

You'd ask him how different colours looked and chuckle lightly as he tried to explain them using emotions.

In his defence, he actually described them very well.

Your conversations of flowers grew to other areas, like interests that the two of you shared. You were a fan of history but could never really indulge in it because you couldn't read the books.

Whenever you asked about certain historical events that you were interested in your parents had always turned you away. Not at all trying to hide the fact that they preferred to spend time with their other sons and daughters as opposed to you simply because it took more time and effort for you as you had to be spoken to in order to learn things.

Aemond loves his history, he knew all about the Targaryen Dynasty and its dragons, it was one of the things he was truly proud of. You on the other hand knew the bare basics. The kings and the order that they came in, the biggest of the dragons, and Kings Landing. He was more than happy to indulge you in all the things in between.

From this chance meeting a beautiful friendship flourished.

Okay, I'm definitely making this 'Aemond x Blind! Reader' a little series. In the same format as this one just with different scenarios happening. I'm much better at writing fanfics in this format and I could honestly continue this for days.

If you have any requests for HOTD please send them, I'm happy to see them through. I will read and write anything about some of these characters for hours, especially if they're either Daemon or Aemond. Also feel free to send some ideas about head cannons for this 'Aemond x Blind! Reader' rabbit whole that I'm now getting myself into.

My best ideas always come late at night.

[n1ghtfurys]

Cream II

Okay so this is the second part to when you met Keegan at a party? A whole one person asked so I'm going to make this a thing. Also don't hate me I'm gonna do another one...probably.

Part I: Cream

You haven't been able to look him in the eye since the party, most of the time when you see him you walk immediately in the opposite direction. One time, when you were with your friend, you audibly squeaked. She still hasn't let you live that one down. His behaviour hasn't changed at all, not that you've been around him enough to tell but still.

Guys normally go for your friend. She likes to pretend otherwise but you've always got people asking about her and yeah, the free drinks are great but they aren't usually directed at you. Not that you mind, peace and quiet is nice and there are so many guys that are so far up their own asses you're shocked they can still see.

Regardless you've been in hiding, you feel like he's everywhere. Obviously he's around because you live in the same building but you find yourself noticing him more, you think he's been trying to talk to you too. Most of the time he doesn't catch you but every so often it looks like he's gonna, luckily that has yet to happen.

Honestly you're shocked he's been here so long, usually he stays at the base and he's deployed a lot, like more often than not. You've been putting off laundry on the off chance that he happens to be down at the same time as you. Only because it would trap you down there with him and you still haven't gotten over the party. The picture of him on his knees in front of you, his mouth open, is one that lives with you. Comes to the front of your mind at night when you're tossing and turning and usually ends in something you aren't really proud of.

You can't put it off anymore though, you're running out of clothes. You spent all day today wandering around in weirdly tight grey sweats and a frankly, very ugly top with a red dragon on, that you had stolen from an ex. It's a truly interesting look, one that has left you comfortable and uncomfortable. The sweats cling to you in so many places and none of them are great, you don't really like how they sit on your hips or how they somehow flatten your ass but the top is on the bigger side so mostly hides that.

You decide to bite the bullet, another mismatched outfit of ill fitting clothes and pieces stolen from various ex’s is not really how you want your week to look. And you can be quick, in and out. No chances of an awkward encounter that just ends with you retreating to the safety of your room, probably never to leave again.

You have never liked the laundry room. The landlord hasn't bothered painting the walls so there is only water stained concrete and cobwebs for decoration, if you're honest it's dingy and always smells dusty despite the detergent people use on their clothes. It's also always warm down here, you hate that, It's like being wrapped in a warm, damp blanket. The dryers sometimes eat your socks too and at least half of the machines are out of order.

It's not like your building is particularly bad, sure some of the halls have cracked paint and one of the doors into the building is held together with duct tape but it's really not a bad building.

It's empty when you get down though, much to your delight because you don't have to deal with any polite small talk about weather or neighbourhood changes. As much as you like the older citizens in your building they can be quite boring to talk to. Plus it gives you some time to read, the book is truly subpar but it's entertaining and music makes it slightly more bearable. So once you've put the clothes on you perch on one of the machines that don't work and hope nobody else comes in.

Of course your luck is never that good and the door opens pretty much as soon as you settle on the cool metal of the dryer. You don't look up, mostly because if you pretend you haven't noticed them, they can't start a conversation but also if you look up and he's standing there you're going to curl up into a ball and die of embarrassment.

Your plan works perfectly until the mystery person pipes up.

“What you reading?” You know the voice without having to look up, of all the people. It had to be him, you know your luck isn't amazing but you didn't think it was that bad.

This would be your que to curl up and die, only you can't ignore him. It's rude and you don't hate him so you make the decision to look up from your book. You, however, immediately regret your decision to do that because why does he look like that? Part of you wishes he could be on his knees in front of you again but that part of you is clearly unstable and is to be ignored at all costs.

You paint a polite smile over your face, in hopes he can't figure out how many times you've come with his name on your lips. You lift up the book to show him, he doesn't really strike you as the reading type so you have no problem showing him and if you show him the cover he might not ask questions. He nods, you think for a moment he's going to ask what it's about but he doesn't. He actually doesn't say anything else, he just goes about his laundry.

You're not entirely sure how you feel about the fact that he didn't continue the conversation, technically you have no reason for it to bother you. Especially since you didn't want to talk anyway but something about the fact he says nothing annoys you.

You can't help but watch him, hunched over the machine. The black t-shirt he's wearing has no right being that tight, you can see the muscles in his back whenever he moves and you know all he's doing is loading clothes into a washing machine but god his arms.

He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up, you meet his eyes before you avert them quickly back to your book because that was mortifying. Seriously it's just a guy in a black t-shirt and you're basically drooling over him, god you're better than this. You swear you hear him chuckle which serves to both annoy and embarrass you.

The chime of your cycle being over literally cannot come fast enough. You have never unloaded one of those machines faster, you grab what you think is all of your shit and basically run up the stairs because anything is better than being in a room with him in his stupid sexy t-shirt with his dumb muscles and deep voice.

You retreat to the familiar safety of your room for the rest of the day, stress reading your book to get past the awfulness of that encounter.

That is until you hear the front door open, obviously since you have a roommate you think nothing of it until you hear said roommate call you to the door, because today couldn't get any worse. You go to the door, expecting a delivery or a salesman she needs you to get rid of but obviously you're not that lucky because the universe must hate you.

Standing at the door is, of course, Keegan because who else would be at your door? What could he possibly want? He doesn't seem like the type of guy to make fun of people, let alone seek someone out to do so.

You make your way to the door, which is arguably the last place you want to be right now. As you pass your friend she punches you like this is a good thing because you may or may not have told her what happened at the party and she's very, very set on getting you laid. That's not what's going to happen though.

You stand in the doorway and watch as his eyes drift slowly down your body, when he meets your eyes again you can tell that he's smirking, not that you can see his mouth but you know.

“You left everything but your glass slippers, princess.” He holds out the detergents you had taken down there with you.

“Oh” really, you know that you should use more words than that, because you do know more words than that or you think you do. Right now it doesn't matter because you're trying to will your brain to pick between saying thanks and sorry.

“Sonks” clearly you are not stronger willed than your brain. You take the bottles from his, still, outstretched hands while hoping that a you-sized sinkhole would appear beneath you.

“Thanks, and sorry for making you come all the way up here. Bye.” he barely has a chance to answer before you're shutting the door.

You put the detergent on the kitchen counter and then proceed to put your head there too because what the fuck was that? A one way ticket to forever being the one girl that can't even talk. You then start to realise how rude it was to slam the door essentially on his face when he was being nice and then you feel even worse about everything.

Not much you can do about it now anyway so you put the detergents away because this day couldn't get any worse. If you weren't hiding in your room before, you are now. Forever. Unless you're called out by your friend or need to cook so that she doesn't burn down the apartment. You like your room anyway, so big deal, and you can probably get enough sunlight from the windows not to get a vitamin D deficiency and if not there's always supplements.

“Honey!” your best friend and roommate has taken to calling you that, usually when she gets home from work but it's kinda just stuck. “Whose number is on the fabric softener?”

Before you really have time to move, she's bursting into your room, as she does.

“Bet it's his.” she has also already taken your phone which you now regret giving her the password to. Luckily your brain catches up before she sends a message that starts with ‘hey sexy’

You forget for a moment that the world hates you and everything sucks because you in fact don't delete the message, instead you manage to press send, like an idiot but it's fine. Maybe he doesn't use his phone at all, or maybe it fell out of his pocket down a flight of stairs or maybe he broke his neck.

Clearly not because he reads it before you have the good sense to delete it. Clearly, all that can be learnt from today is that luck doesn't exist and everything sucks and you're never gonna end up in bed with this man, ever.

[foxyanon]

To Love A Dragon: Part 2

Summary: Rhaenerys meets Sihtric and unfortunately, Guthred and Eadred.

Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Rhaenerys Targaryen

Word Count: 2708

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: Death

Part 1, Part 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Last Kingdom or A Song Of Ice And Fire nor do I own any of the images used.

Dividers by @arcielee and @zaldritzosrose

It had been a little less than a fortnight since Sihtric had seen the Princess, and to say she haunted his thoughts would be an understatement. It wasn’t until he made it to the town to meet up with Tekil, that his brain finally connected the memory of the white haired dragon rider and the woman he saw in the tent, the realization he had actually seen a Targaryen in the flesh and lived to tell the tale causing his fingers to feel a little tingly and numb. He could still see her unique eyes whenever he closed his, his dreams filled with thoughts of what it would be like to be close to her and if royal ladies are truly as soft as the other warriors have claimed.

Now, he was riding towards King Guthreds camp, where Tekil was to kill a one Uhtred Ragnarsson and Sihtric knew there was a very real chance he would be recognized by the Princess if they saw each other. The nerves he felt at that thought had his fingers tightening around the reins, posture tense as he took some steadying breaths to try to calm his mind. His silence from being lost in his thoughts had caught Tekils attention, the older warrior a bit concerned for the quietness Sihtric was displaying. While he would never say it outright, he knew the boy was a good one and if given half a chance, would be a great ally to anyone. However, Tekil’s honor bound him to Kjartan and he would not show favor towards the man’s bastard son. So he said nothing, choosing to ignore Sihtric instead as they rode for Cumberland.

Their arrival garnered some attention, but the silver tongue of Tekil managed to throw Uhtred off their trail for now. Sihtric’s eyes scanned the other men with the Daneslayer, noting how a man with curly hair seemed not to buy the lie of who they were and why they were there, but he said nothing. He didn’t see any sign of the Princess and her entourage yet, a small reprieve considering the high stakes of the current mission they were on.

As they were getting a little something to eat, a flurry of movement and the sound of many horses arriving alerted everyone to a new arrival. Sihtric immediately began searching, the banners of House Targaryen blowing in the breeze before he saw her, sitting astride a black mare and her hair pulled back into a couple braids, the rest cascading down her back. His breath caught in his throat as he got a glimpse of what she looked like in the sunlight, far more radiant than he remembered. Her arrival had many flocking to catch a glimpse of the foreigner, and Sihtric could not blame them. She carried herself with a level of authority of one born to their station, the kind of authority that his own father could never possess. Despite him being towards the back of the crowd, he swore her eyes met his briefly when she scanned the people flocking to see her.

Rhaenerys knew why the people were gawking at her, her unusual features drawing the attention of the many. She scanned the crowd a little bored at the display, before seeing a familiar man hovering towards the back. She smirked before looking away, deciding to have one of her people learn about him discreetly. Her sworn shield, an older man named Ser Elwood Graves, rode alongside her as he watched for potential threats. As they rode closer, a pale and frail looking man wearing a half decent tunic and dagger flanked by some perfumed older man in religious robes and another man with long hair and the presence of a warrior approached them. Already Rhaenerys did not like the religious one and the frail one, but the warrior did not irk her as much.

”Welcome, Princess. I am Guthred of Cumberland,” he said in a tone that grated on her nerves, sounding as though he was not sure how to handle the power such a title gave him. She dismounted instead of responding, allowing Ser Elwood to announce her as was custom in her home.

”You stand before Rhaenerys of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne,” Ser Elwood stated, his voice calm and clear, as he stood to her left.

She nodded politely towards Guthred, meeting his eyes with disinterest. She had been sent here on the possibility of a marriage alliance, but quite frankly she was not impressed with what she saw. Perhaps a lifetime living in a more advanced kingdom was to blame, but the pale man in front of her and the simple structures that made up this place left much to be desired in her opinion. She watched the new king stutter for a moment in her presence, before the warrior chuckled and stepped forward to introduce himself.

”I am Uhtred of Bebbanburg. I command the king’s army,” he spoke in a strange accent, keeping a respectful distance and tone. He earns a point in his favor, Rhaenerys putting a face to the name of the renowned warrior her fathers spies had given her on the journey here. Though she was told he was sworn to Alfred, not this fop. She’d have to make certain of her information next time. She nods politely to him as well before hearing the religious one clear his throat to get her attention.

”I am Abbot Eadred, advisor to King Guthred. We welcome you and your people to Cumberland. I hope the journey here was smooth and swift, by the grace of god,” he spoke with practiced ease, though his eyes spoke another story. Rhaenerys would have to watch this one, years of being in her fathers court having taught her how to see through one's intentions.

”A pleasure to meet you all, lords. Your Grace,” she said as she made eye contact with each man in turn. The King could barely hold her gaze and that was more than enough to determine she would never marry a man like him, but she wasn’t about to waste this trip. If nothing else, she could have her maester chronicle the people here for her fathers council.

Once the pleasantries were done, Rhaenerys excused herself to speak with her own people and make arrangements to have her tent pitched far from Guthreds hall, because everything about him already aggravated her and she refused to sleep under his roof.

Night fell and a feast had been prepared in her honor. She was seated next to Guthred, Ser Elwood standing behind her like her ever present guardian. The King had been trying to make small talk with her, but she wasn’t interested and was looking for a chance to politely excuse herself after having picked at her food. After an hour enduring the man’s presence, she deemed it appropriate to go get some fresh air and hopefully she would get the chance to ask questions of Lord Uhtred. Ser Elwood followed her out, handing her Dark Sister once they had left the hall.

”He is a coward and a waste of a crown,” Rhaenerys spoke bluntly, a small chuckle coming from Elwood causing her to grin back at him as she finished securing her sword around her hips.

”He is their king, Princess. Divinely chosen, if the stories are true,” Ser Elwood spoke, the laughter not really leaving his voice.

”I do not believe in the kind of divinity spoken by snakes,” she muttered under her breath, hearing the sounds of a fight coming from the stables. With a look shared between her and Elwood, they took off in the direction, blades drawn and ready for a fight.

The two arrived right when a couple other warriors did, the fight going by quick when the numbers where evenly matched. She clashed steel with the familiar man from earlier, the two staring into each other's eyes for a moment. She grinned at him, the young man immediately disengaging and stumbling backwards, a shocked expression on his pretty face. She heard Uhtred call for a halt, wanting to keep one of them alive for questioning. She watched a big man with an impressive mustache tie up the young man, before she sheathed her blade and faced Uhtred.

”If it is alright with you, Lord Uhtred, I should like to question this one too when you are done with him,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and briefly looking back at the now scared Dane, before meeting Uhtred’s eyes.

The Daneslayer looked at her confused, nodding in approval as he caught his breath. “As you wish, Princess. And thank you, for your assistance.”

She nodded, relaxing her stance a bit before deciding to speak with him tomorrow. She watched Guthred and Eadred approach, as well as a bunch of others, and opted to simply watch the interactions between the three with interest. It was clear Guthred was not meant to be a king and the entirety of his backbone came from his advisors, and he leans too heavily on them and most definitely is far to public about his struggles. Even after being in this place for a short time, it was clear the people looked to Uhtred or Abbot Eadred for guidance, which is not a good look for an unstable kingdom.

Once Uhtred had given the order for the heads of the dead to be removed and the group dispersed, she decided to hang back. Rhaenerys sent Elwood off to get some sleep after he informed her spies about what happened, watching as a curly haired man and the big one down their drinks, claiming they needed a little liquid courage to do the task. Just as she was about to step forward and just do it, a little blonde woman with a cross necklace walked up and grabbed a half dull dagger, stating she would do it first.

She’s got guts, I’ll give her that, Rhaenerys thought to herself before unsheathing Dark Sister and clearing her throat. When the lady turned around, she nodded toward the dagger and held the sword out to her.

”That blade is too dull for the task, and nothing cuts quite as cleanly as Valyrian steel. Here, use this instead,” watching as the lady tentatively took the hilt with shaky hands and wide eyes, setting the dagger down on a wooden box. “What is your name, my lady?”

”I am no lady, Princess. My name is Hild,” the woman responded with a quick bow, her hand flexing nervously on the hilt of the sword as she took a few shaky breaths. It was apparent this would be her first real beheading, and Rhaenerys remembered her first one. She decided then she would help her, the same way her father did.

Rhaenerys nodded before walking over to the furthest body, her feet placed on either side of the dead mans torso. “Based on the way you are holding that blade, you have never done this before so I will assist you,” she spoke calmly, gesturing with her hand for Hild to join her. When she did, Rhaenerys kept her word, telling her how to hold the blade in her hands before she bent down and grabbed the front of the man's armor, pulling him off the ground enough for his head to sever cleanly when the blade came down. She nodded toward Hild, the latter taking a deep breath before lifting Dark Sister and bringing it down just below his chin, removing his head in one clean blow. Blood poured onto the ground as the head rolled away a bit, a look of shock on Hild’s face and bewilderment on the men’s.

Rhaenerys dropped the lifeless body from her grasp and gently took Dark Sister from Hild, watching as the suddenly green woman picked up the head to place it on a wooden crate before walking a few steps and expelling the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Rhaenerys grabbed the hem of her calf length dress to wipe the blood off, smoothly sheathing it once more and gently patting Hild’s back.

”It gets easier with time,” Rhaenerys said simply, starting to walk away before hearing the tied up man call out to her. She turned around to face him, a curious look on her face as the curly haired man walked up and shouted at him.

“I wish to speak with you!” Sihtric called out, hoping to get her attention before she got too far. After having watched how she helped the nun, he was certain that if Lord Uhtred would not take his oath, he would give it freely to her should she wish it. Only, once he opened his mouth, the curly haired man stomped up and shouted at him to shut it. Automatically Sihtric looked down, before he heard the princess speak up in his defense.

”Enough. There is no need for such hostility, he is already unarmed and bound,” she cut her eyes toward him, her wrist hanging loosely off the hilt of her blade. “What is your name?”

”I am Halig, my lady,” he said nervously, bowing a little awkwardly under her gaze.

”The proper way to address me is either ‘Princess’ or 'Your Highness’, Halig,” she corrected, though her tone was not as haughty as other nobles Sihtric knew. He watched Halig stutter out an apology before her eyes landed on the big man. “And yours?”

He heard the other man introduce himself as Clappa and watched with a subtle smile as she reminded both of them to finish carrying out their lord's order as there were still six heads to remove. Once they scurried off to do just that, she looked at Sihtric with recognition in her eyes.

”I know your face, but I do not know your name. You are the man I saw sneaking out of my tent in the early morning nearly a fortnight ago, yes?” Rhaenerys asked him, her head cocked to the side as she regarded him with interest.

Sihtric shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearing his throat as he avoided her eyes. “Yes, Your Highness. I am called Sihtric,” he said quietly, feeling overwhelmed by her attention.

”You may look at me, Sihtric. I will not hurt you,” she replied softly, bending her head down a little to meet his gaze with a small smile, her kindness towards Sihtric making him feel warm inside and unworthy of such affection all at once.

He looked up slowly, breath catching in his throat as he watched the torchlight dance across her skin. She was even more stunning up close and he had to remember to breathe. “I wish to serve you, Princess,” he willed himself to not stumble over his words, feeling the beginnings of desperation claw through him. He didn’t wish to die a prisoner, but he’d pledge himself to her cause in any capacity if it meant he might live another day.

Rhaenerys softened her gaze, shoulders dropping a little before speaking in a soft tone. “A tempting offer but I must wait before I accept your oath. I will not supersede Lord Uhtred’s authority here. I promise, the moment he is finished with you, I will speak to him and see about having you released to me.”

He nodded in understanding, feeling a little dejected but realizing there was only so much she could do. He only prayed Uhtred would speak with him sooner rather than later, because he hated not knowing what his future would look like. At least with Kjartan he knew where he stood.

She gave him a sad smile and nod before turning on her heel and walking towards her encampment. Sihtric could only watch her retreating form, a strange sense of loss gripping his heart. He had only ever felt like this once before, the last time he saw his mother before her brutal death. He reached up with his bound hands and gripped the hammer pendant he wore, silently praying the gods showed him favor so that he may have a chance to earn his freedom or an honorable end.

Tagging: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @gemini-mama @synintheraven @zaldritzosrose

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