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inkareds · 5 months

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I, Carrion - Hozier

Daemon Targaryen

5/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

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✧.* word count: 8.8k (long boy) ✧.* genre: angst -> comfort // sfw (but adult themes) ✧.* warnings: slow burn-ish, the reader is female, Otto and Alicent are minor villains, details of sickness (Daemon not reader lmao)

"Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We'll float away, but if we fall // I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Being the last member of a noble house was difficult, and the fact that you were a woman made it even more difficult. Surprisingly, you've found comfort in the Rogue Prince, and even more surprising when he finds comfort in you. A comfort built on mutual affection and respect, something a certain someone in court feels threatened by

Parts of this story were inspired by The Crucible, you'll know what I mean after you've read the story. Also hiiiii, I'm so happy to be back from my LONG hiatus, I'm feeling a lot better and hopefully will get into the writing groove back!

As always, lyric and story breakdown at the end of the story

Your mother died on the birthing bed, she had fought valiantly, screaming, crying, and clawing at the sheets trying to push you, her firstborn, out.

When you echoed your first cries, your father came into the room, he held your mother’s hand and wept, the last thing she spoke was a plea to your father to love their daughter and to give it a name she chose.

Your father honoured this last wish of your mother as she died.

He raised you with nothing but a doting sort of love but he knew his time was limited.

The Gods had not been kind to him or your mother, you were their first child in over ten years of marriage and in your birth, you had taken your mother. Because of this, your father found no more reason to remarry. His heart belonged wholly to your mother, he gave everything to her and in return to you, the last thing he has of her.

Though that meant the extinction of his house once you marry or pass on, he doesn’t seem to mind it. He did fear for you, now ten and eight years of age.

He feared for what would become of you once he dies, with no more kin to lean on and coming from a house that wasn’t as powerful as most others in your region, he wishes for you to live in content.

So one day when a raven is sent out to many noble houses in search of a lady-in-waiting for the young Princess Rhaenyra, your father jumped at the opportunity. You were close of age to her and her other lady-in-waiting lady Alicent Hightower, though you were slightly older. He found this to be the perfect opportunity.

After consolidating with you, he sends you off to King’s Landing with the hopes of interesting the princess enough that you’d become her lady-in-waiting. Much to his joy the princess was taken by you.

You were straightforward and spoke rather brazenly compared to the other prim and proper ladies. Something Rhaenyra loved. You quickly wrote to your father about how she told you that you amused her greatly and that she admires your sharp words and quick wit.

After being chosen as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Rhaenyra, you came home only to retrieve your belongings before moving to live in King’s Landing. Your father had wept in private with you before you left, you were the last thing he had of your mother and though you did not know her, he says that you were quite similar to her. In that way, he felt if he could give you a content life, he’d be giving an extension of her another content life.

“Promise me you’ll survive there, surrounded by dragons, you have to be strong, my beautiful daughter.” He weeps as he pulls you closer to him.

Your father was old, older than what most men were when they had their firstborn, and so you knew he didn’t have long left. With what little time the Gods give him, you want to make him proud and happy.

“I will father, I will keep both you and mother in my heart.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Then promise me you’ll survive no matter what, you’ll live and you shall thrive.” He looks at you with determination shining in his eyes.

“I swear to you, I will not let those courtly dragons drag me down.”

With that, you left your home for King’s Landing.

It wasn’t much different, you weren’t from rigid lands like Dorne or Winterfell, so the weather didn’t bother you much. What did bother you was the social customs that you were expected to adhere to.

Back home, your house was small but highly respected by the common folk around you as well as the other noble houses around you. Seeing as how in, what most assume, a couple of years you will be the last of your house, the noblemen and women of your lands gave you much more freedom than most women.

You didn’t butter your words and spoke with an ardent fever when the topic would land on one of the many you were well-educated in. That was another thing you found ridiculous, the only women that were highly educated seemed to be the highest nobles. And those were Lady Alicent and the Princess herself. Those two were the only ones you found you could talk to.

Whilst the men, as knowledgeable as they were, were rude and distasteful. You had found no comfort in court and found it difficult to hide your sneer any time anyone second-guessed Rhaenyra’s position as a princess and her father’s firstborn.

The two of you shared a bond unlike any other, you were your father’s firstborn, just as she is. But unlike her, you hold none of the pressures she has from everyone around her to rise above her station while sitting prim and proper as the perfect lady. So she blossoms whenever she speaks to you, in you she sees a different side of the coin she resided in.

And when her uncle comes to visit, let’s just say, her interest in you grows exponentially.

“Prince Daemon, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance once more.” You curtsied at him when he caught you walking through the garden.

The roguish prince grinned.

“Might I ask why my niece’s attendant is roaming around without my niece at sight?” He nears you.

“Princess Rhaenyra is studying with her Septa, my prince, during her lessons I am not with her.” You explained to him.

After a few years of attending to Rhaenyra, you have met Daemon repeatedly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the prince quite charming, in a sly way. What little conversations you’ve had with him, he’d found humour and entertained your sharp tongue. Not to mention he actually speaks to you when topics of your knowledge come into the conversation. Unlike many of the men here who then go on a tirade about the topic, boasting about their knowledge, completely ignoring any of your statements.

“May I ask what troubles you?” You ask when you see him observing you.

"Do you think Rhaenyra is suited for the throne?"

The sudden serious question caught you off guard. Though you tried to answer as honestly as possible, knowing the Prince would find it more favourable.

"Of course, I do, she is the king's firstborn, knowledgeable, headstrong, and stubborn. This realm needs a strong leader, not one easily swayed by their court,” you paused, deciding to poke the bear, or in this case, the dragon, “I hope I could trust you not to misconstrued my words and twist them in court, my Prince.” You grinned.

Daemon chuckled, letting his head fall back ever so slightly as he took a step towards you.

“Now why would I do that?”

Your eyes focused on him, “Perhaps to take all of the Princess’ attention? I do see the way you look at her, my Prince. I may not be well-accustomed to the queer traditions of the old Valyrians, but I am not blind. Perhaps you are jealous she’s spending her time with me and wishes to rid of me.”

Standing in the deserted gardens nestled deep in the Keep, Daemon takes another step closer to you, pressuring you to take a step backwards. Yet you stand your ground, unwilling to let the invisible strings of tension pull you back as he pushes you forward with his noble visage.

“You are one of the last interesting people in this keep. Dare I say, with a tongue like that and a mind like yours, if you were born a man you’d have been seated somewhere in my brother’s court. But alas, you were born to be the last of your house.”

At the slight snide comment of your house, all but little of your playfulness dissipated. Of course, you understood the dire situation of your house, but you would be a fool to let its name be tarnished and insulted.

“Alas, unfortunately so, if that is all you wish to say to me, then I shall take my leave,” you tilted your head upwards before lightly bowing and turning to leave.

Daemon sighed with a tired smile before reaching out to grab your arm.

“Are all southerners brass and easily emotional?” He remarks, causing a humourless and graceless fake smile to fill your expression.

“If I am as emotional as you say I am I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to roll my eyes at your words. Yet, here I am, still smiling, it seems I’m less emotional than you think I am, Prince Daemon.” You spoke the last words through gritted teeth, clearly showing your sarcasm.

“As much as I do enjoy our banter, I did come here to talk business, though it seems you had distracted me.” At his statement, your brows furrowed and finally, you turned towards him. Seeing as you don’t seem to walk away, Daemon lets go of your arm. “There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

Little hound, the nickname that used to make your blood boil as a child. Your house sigil consisted of the body of a bloodhound, standing regal with its head held up high and one paw in the air. It perfectly encapsulated your house’s longstanding history as a loyal and trustworthy house with a mind unlike any other. Your father gave you the nickname when you were younger as you would play with the pups and dogs near the farms.

Later on, the nickname would catch on through the common folk. Little hound they called you. When Daemon first spoke of it, he spoke as if it was an insult. The little hound, the last of the bloodhounds of your house.

But now it sounded different.

“I would watch your back much closer,” he leaned closer to almost whisper to your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’d hate for my favourite source of entertainment to disappear.”

As quickly as he got serious, the boyish bravado and ease came back, Daemon pulled away, taking a step backwards to create some space between the two of you. Right before you open your mouth to inquire him about the statement, another voice joins you.

“There you are, I had been looking everywhere for you.”

You quickly looked back at the sound of the Princess’s voice. The young Rhaenyra stood there with a smile upon meeting your gaze, though that very smile dropped into a mischievous glint when she saw that Daemon was with you.

“Uncle, I did not know you had returned from your travels.” Rhaenyra spoke walking towards the both of you.

“Niece,” he greeted, “I had just arrived in port at midday.”

Rhaenyra smiled though it looked more like a mischievous grin than anything. “Ah I see, and you had immediately gone to find my lady-in-waiting have you?”

Ah, the Princess Rhaenyra, ever the lady without a filter covering her mouth. You wanted to grit your teeth and tell her she shouldn’t be saying things so easily, but you knew she’d simply call you a hypocrite.

“I do enjoy seeing her face every once and a while, niece.” Daemon glanced slightly at you before going back to look at his niece.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his flirtatious ministrations.

“Hm, well, if all you wish is to see her face I believe that wish has been granted. Now the lady and I must go.” Rhaenyra took her hand in yours and quickly began pulling you away.

You heard Daemon chuckle to himself right before you were out of earshot.

“Do tell me you aren’t trying to bed my uncle.” Rhaenyra spoke, no sense of malice in her words, only humour.

“By the six, I would never bed a married man, my lady. The Prince is far from my type of men anyways.” At that, Rhaenyra quirks her brows.

“Do tell. What does a lady such as yourself look for in a suitor? Perhaps it would give me ideas for my own dream suitor.” She rolls her eyes at the last part of her statement.

Being by her side all the time and seeing her act regal and noble in front of her many subjects, you’ve almost forgotten that she is still a teenage girl. A teenage girl that bored of her mundane life of being looked down upon by the masses.

“Loyal.” You answered.

Ever since that day in the gardens, you’ve found yourself unable to sleep a lot of nights, your mind being flooded by images of Daemon. His whisper against your ear, his body close to your own. You found yourself needing to take a breather outside now and again. Almost always your body leads you back to the gardens.

The cooler air of the night comforted you and let go of any images of Daemon you would have.

Tonight was a tough night to swallow, though not due to the Rogue Prince. Quite the contrary, your mind was filled by your father. Recently you had gotten word that your father had passed in his sleep.

Old age has caught up with him and following his dying wish, his attendants and his beloved subjects buried him in the heart of the forest behind your old estate. The forest which you and your father had tracked down and killed much game before your stay in the keep.

In the letter, it detailed that he had died a few days prior from when you’d received the letter and that the funeral procession had ended. The reason you were not told of the funeral procession was due to your father’s other dying wish. He did not wish for you to be burdened by grief or the past.

He wanted his death to be just another event in your life, nothing major nor anything to bring concern to. Therefore he didn’t want you to travel all the way to your homeland just for his funeral. Something you gritted your teeth over.

How dare he decide what was best for you?

Now you were alone in this cruel and tainted world. A little hound alone in a den of dragons. How curious.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Daemon’s voice behind you was the last thing you expected to hear when you sat down on one of the many marble benches in the secluded garden. He walked towards the bench and sat beside you, watching the same sight.

A gorgeous splitting tree grew in the middle of the garden and in the dark of the night, its white flowers almost glowed in radiance. It reminded you slightly of the prince’s own white hair.

“My father died a few fortnights ago,” you didn’t know what compelled you to open your heart to him at that moment. But you did and there was no turning back, “And now there is one.” You whispered into the night.

“You.” Daemon stated, causing you to nod.

“Yes, me,” a dry chuckle followed after. “What misfortune befell on my mother to have birthed a daughter instead of a son. You were right, my prince, had I been born a man my lineage would continue. Plenty more bloodhounds would be running around my estate and my house would not die out.”

You didn’t want to show weakness in front of the prince, not after all the work you’ve put in to fit into the social quo of the Keep. Yet, Daemon does not seem to care.

“I wouldn’t call it much of a misfortune. If you were born a man, I would not have found you half as beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, any other time a little voice in your head would tell you that your tongue would be cut off if you did that. But now you didn’t quite care. Your house was dead, you were just the final piece. Whether you died or lived, what legacy would you bring?

“What glory it is to be considered beautiful by a married man.”

Bitter were your words.

“The bronze bitch is dead.”

At the sudden rashness of his statement, your head whipped in his direction.

“My prince, apologies I did not know such news has befallen you-”

“Hah!” he laughed, “It is nothing more than good news. My marriage to her was loveless and lacked any sort of mutual respect. No,” he shook his head and turned towards you.

Both your eyes met and in a single second, you wondered if his violet eyes lit up in the dark much like the red of fire at midnight. You wouldn’t be all that shocked if Targaryens had that power along with the one to bond with dragons, as Daemon seemed to have another power up his sleeve. Enamouring you with his gaze.

“I came looking for you to ask for your hand.” Your brows quickly furrowed.

Your daze broke almost immediately.

“Pardon me, my prince?”

“I can take you to Dragonstone and wed you there in Old Valyrian customs. You once said you saw the way I looked at Princess Rhaenyra. But it seems you’re blinder than you thought. They weren’t for her,”

The cogs in your mind twisted and turned.

“They were for you.” He closed in.

Your breath was caught in your throat the moment he leaned in. Daemon’s lips were harsh against your own, despite the slowness of his approach he did not hold back in kissing you. In a single moment after you reciprocated, his hand was at the back of your neck, pushing you closer and deeper into him.

Both your eyes closed you could feel lightning striking through both your bodies, as he pulled you closer to him. Though right before your instinct pushed you to open your lips and let his tongue explore, your thoughts crashed into your mind.

You quickly pushed away and stood up from the marble bench, your chest heaved from the lack of oxygen and the adrenaline. Daemon quickly stood up as well seeing your bewildered expression.

“Why?” was your only question.

Why now?

Why me?

Why the haste?

Why-

Too many questions, yet all start with the word why.

You could see Daemon take a second to mull over his words, when he did figure out a response his hand reached towards your cheek. Lightly caressing it, a stark juxtaposition on how he had just been handling you moments before.

“Though I debated on asking for your hand after what you had just told me. I leave for Stepstones at dawn. I intend to make you a bride before then, just as I always hoped for many moons now.” He answered truthfully.

“You intend to fight the crab-feeder with Lord Corlys and his son?” You inquired, to which he nodded, awaiting your reaction.

You thought to yourself for a second then a soft smile crept into your face. “Then do not make me your wife tonight, make me your friend.” You held onto his hand as you continued. “Fate and death have touched my father. I do not wish for it to touch my husband. Wed me when you win the war, that way you’ll perhaps find something to look forward to when you fight against these warriors.”

A surprisingly warm smile befell on the Rogue Prince. He held onto your hand tighter and guided you back to sit down on the bench. An air of comfort and warmth blanketed the two of you in the cold desolate air.

That night, the two of you spent it in those very same gardens, talking to one another. Not a single drop of wine was shared between the two of you and yet your hearts were open. Not in the way of speaking truthfully but in a way much more intimate. As if the two of you could hear what is unspoken and read what was between the lines.

Both your minds and souls weaved together that very night. Entangling themselves into one another before the sun would rise and the spell would be broken. There was no need for a touch of passion to be shared. The company was all that mattered to the two of you.

Just as you were about to leave your room as the sun had just begun to peak from the horizon, Daemon stopped you.

A sense of deja vu rushed towards you, the scene of the last time the two of you were in the garden alone replayed in your mind.

This time no snide remarks were thrown, instead you turned towards him with no malice.

His hand held onto your wrist as he spoke, “As something to remember me by.” He stated as he procured a dainty bracelet with a gorgeous red ruby in the middle, he held your wrist and clipped it on.

“Valyrian steel, it shouldn’t tarnish nor break.”

Speechless, you spoke only what was in your heart. “Come back to me after the war ends and you’ve had your fill of adventure.”

The two of you shared one last kiss before you turned to leave.

The many months after went on as usual. Your friendship with Rhaenyra grew even stronger the moment she saw the Valyrian steel bracelet, immediately knowing it had to be from Daemon. She had been delighted to know of your and Daemon’s plans once he wins the war in the Stepstones. She yearns to have a true friend permanently within the court. Especially after Alicent’s marriage to her father.

Unfortunately, it was also due to that event that your relationship with Alicent slowly tarnished itself.

It seemed not only Rhaenyra realised the source of the bracelet you now wore every day. Otto Hightower was one of the many who had his suspicions. Whether you were another one of Daemon’s whores or if the rumours are true and you plan on wedding him. Otto knew you’d be a formidable opponent in his wishes for Aegon to be the king, for his blood to belong on the throne.

So he pulls Alicent away from you, to make what he was about to do easier.

One day a guard had called you over during one of your few alone times, seeing as Rhaenyra was with her Septa. The guard informed you that you have been called to trial under the eyes of King Viserys and the Seven. You didn’t know what was happening, but you weren’t a fool to not comply.

Daemon’s words echoed through your head the longer the walk took from your bed chambers to the small council’s room.

“There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

When you arrived at the small council meeting your worst fears were made into fruition. Inside the room was the whole small council including Alicent, which meant a good majority of them were people who didn’t like you.

Sir Harold called your name as you kept your eyes trained in front of you.

“You are trialled under the eye of King Viserys the first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and under the watchful eye of the Seven. You are accused of dark witchcraft and conspiracy against the crown. How do you plead to these accusations.”

The suddenness of everything stunned you. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened as your gaze flickered towards Alicent. She refused to look in your direction and so you immediately turned towards Otto, he was staring dead into your figure.

“Excuse me?” you finally croaked out, “My King, I assure you I have never done witchcraft in my life and I would never plot against the crown. My father died to put me here, I would never do anything that would harm my house’s name as the last living member of it.” You practically rambled feeling panic begin to bubble up against your throat.

There was a great silence in the room as you looked towards King Viserys. Despite being his daughter’s closest confidant, you didn’t have much interaction with the King himself, always so busy being pulled away by Otto. Realising the situation you found yourself in, you took in a deep shaky breath, swallowing the panic down as you gazed forward.

“I plead not guilty.” You needed to regain your composure, all you had to do was convince Viserys, which shouldn’t be too hard.

“I apologise for the formalities, I find this rather unimportant considering half of the things going on at this moment.” Viserys suddenly speaks with a sigh. “It’s clear my daughter’s lady-in-waiting is not a witch, now could we move on?”

“I understand why you might be fooled by her, my king, but as my daughter come forth she will show you undoubtable proof.”

With a sigh, Viserys nodded towards the young Alicent’s direction. Alicent walked with bated breath towards the table without a single glance in your direction.

Like clockwork, she placed a small doll made out of some scrap fabric roughly in the shape of a human proportion. However when she placed it down on the table the doll slightly tumbled forward and revealed its front.

Though there was stitching in the middle of the abdomen, it’s clear that someone had ripped parts of the stitching open, revealing the inside of the doll. Sheep wool mixed with hair, human hair in the same wool’s colour was stuffed within the doll.

This was no normal hair, it was Targaryen hair.

This was no doll or toy, it was a poppet.

“I had saw the increasing distance between the Princess Rhaenyra with my daughter after your marriage, my king, so I sent my daughter to reconcile with the princess. As the princess is usually seen with her lady-in-waiting, I sent Alicent to her room first. She returned to me in haste and panic, she had found a poppet under the lady’s carpet. A witch’s poppet, no doubt used to forsake you and your future male heir, my king.”

“Lies!” You quickly yelled out, causing the entire room to look at you. “I have never seen that poppet in my life!”

Seeing the way Viserys scrutinizes you underneath his gaze, panic bubbled up. Your eyes were blown wide you took a hurried step closer towards the council’s table. In a surprising response, the guards beside Viserys pulled out their swords. The blade aimed towards you. Your heart stopped in your chest.

“Stay where you are, witch.” Otto stated, looking around and seeing no one on your side you took a few steps backwards, going back to your previous position.

“Apologies for my outburst, your highness. But I can assure you, I’ve been framed. I’ve never seen a poppet in my life. I do not even know how to create one. My teachings are well documented by my septa from my homeland, if you wish to know of my good nature, ask my people. They know I would never forsake the throne.” You tried explaining yourself.

Viserys gritted his teeth as he reached out towards the poppet. Silence enveloped the room as people awaited his response. Using his fingers, Viserys pried the front open even more, and there he pulled one of the hair strands. It was long, longer than his hair. He recognised it as Rhaenyra’s. A gasp left you at the sight of it.

“This,” he glared at you, waving the poppet in the air, “This is blasphemy and conspiracy not only towards me but my daughter. You think I’d believe the words of a witch?”

“My king, please! I beg of you to believe me.” Ignoring all kinds of shame you dropped to your knees, urgency clawing at you. “I have been in the Princess’ service for a very long time. I see her as my closest friend, I would never do anything to harm her. If you must doubt my character, do not doubt the maids who clean and tend to my quarters. Surely they should’ve found it had I kept a poppet of the princess this entire time?!”

You tried reasoning with the king, even going so low as begging him. You didn’t know what to do. You knew what was happening, Otto Hightower. That reptile amongst dragons wanted to rid of you. But if you were to accuse him of treason, then your case would not stand. As it stands, Viserys trusted him more than you.

Viserys stayed silent, as did the court. No one spoke to defend you, no one spoke to scrutinize you. Because the end was clear. The king looked at you with contempt.

“Please.” You made a final plea.

“For your crimes, I would sentence you to an execution.” You wanted to scream but your pride wouldn’t let you. “But I appreciate and take account of the many years you have spent under the servitude of my daughter. For that, I sentence you to banishment. Leave Westeros at the first boat towards Essos. I’ll allow a single bag of your belongings to carry with you. What you do then will not be of any concern to me. Leave.”

What followed after came in quick succession.

First, all your pleas and desperation dissipated. In its place was hot, flaming anger. Any and all niceties disappeared from you as you walked out of the room with a glare.

Second, your maids were standing waiting for you in your room. Their heads bowed low as they try not to look into your eyes. They know the charges were false, they know you were framed. But they also knew they could not do anything, so you sighed silently and packed what was necessary.

Your father had you taught all the necessary things a lady needed to know. How to sew, how to weave, how to speak, and how to enamour. But he had also taught you all the necessary things a lord needed to know.

With no one else to lend down his knowledge, it was all for you. He taught you how to hunt, how to build a fire, how to fight, and most of all, how to survive.

Third, you were sent off in a boat to Essos to Gods knows where. With only Alicent and Otto to watch and make sure you were truly leaving, your princess on the other side of Westeros finding suitors, and the man you love fighting in a war– you swore to yourself.

You will survive.

Daemon returned not a moon cycle after your banishment. Surprising everyone, Rhaenyra came minutes after Caraxes landed in the dragon pit. She had ended her tour early and Daemon had won the war. It was both a momentous and a frustrating day for Viserys.

The war in the Stepstones was won and Daemon had bowed to him in front of his entire court. That very event warranted a celebration.

Almost immediately the kitchens bustled to life, the servants prepared delicacies and parties.

As Viserys laughed at stories from both his and his brother’s youth, Daemon could not help but let his eyes wander. He had known of Rhaenyra’s tour in search of a suitor. He had also known you had not gone with her for reasons unknown. So he had expected you to be here now to celebrate his win.

He had planned on whisking you away in the night like that day he swore himself to you, bringing you to Dragonstone, and finally wed you, just as he promised.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found.

When Daemon found out about your banishment, the Keep found out how irrational the Rogue Prince could be. Not a moment later, he mounted Caraxes and left King’s Landing for Essos, leaving behind an array of shouts and arguments with both his brother and the King’s hand.

Rhaenyra didn’t take it any less lightly either. Though she could not simply fly off to a distant continent, she made sure her distaste and anger were felt across the estate. Any and all attempts of Alicent to speak to her were all brushed away harsher and colder than last time. In a bout of rebellion, the princess halted speaking with her father for a long period of time.

But just as time continues to move on, so do people. After many soldiers and men were sent off to Essos to look for Daemon, the Rogue Prince finally returned. Muck and dirt stuck to his body like skin. From his eyes, everyone knew not to set him off.

The prince wreaked havoc with his gold cloaks not long after. Loyal only to him, the soldiers became increasingly harsher in their punishments, all at his order.

Viserys never knew true anger as when he had thought Daemon had had his fill of violence and asked him to marry Laena Velaryon, to strengthen ties between house Velaryon and Targaryen.

The lady was a friend of his, just as Rhaenyra is. But the anger that overtook Daemon at the mere idea of his brother banishing the woman he loved, only to send him away once more to marry someone else burned within him.

Arguments, insults, and threats were poured upon them like wine on a wedding night. The keep did not know peace for a long time after that.

However what did end up happening was that Laena Velaryon married another nobleman, and from her came Baela and Rhaena. Daemon would stay in Driftmark with Laena, all to cause gossip and havoc within King’s Landing and to cause even more of a headache to his brother.

There he witnessed her husband’s untimely death due to an accident and her own during childbirth. He saw the way Laena’s body burned up in flames, leaving both Rhaena and Baela alone in the world. Just like that, he has lost another friend.

In a single moment, he had thought about you. To the last night, he saw you. The two of you basking in the moonlight as you told him about your mother. Her untimely death. Seeing the way it tore you apart, he took it upon himself to take the two girls as wards of his family. He raised them as if they were his own. A part of him wondered what you’d think of him if he saw you. How he wished sometimes as he looked into the eyes of Baela and Rhaena after he comforted them of their mother’s death, that he was looking into the eyes of your daughters. The daughters he could imagine himself having with you.

Would they have his platinum hair or would they have yours? Perhaps your eyes, though purple would look gorgeous. At night when he slumbers, he imagines and dreams about them.

Children of his own with you. Be it two daughters like Laenas or three sons like Rhaenyra. He imagines them with your smile and mind, soft, comforting, but sharp and precise. From him, he hoped they’d have his tenacity, his edge for battle, his stubbornness, and perhaps his love for their mother as well.

But when the sun rises and he wakes, they stay in his dreams. Forever missing.

Perhaps it was bitterness, perhaps it was anger, or perhaps it was something as simple as pettiness. But he knew the whole reason he pushed Rhaenyra for the war was because he urged for revenge.

Then when that day came, the day when the Gods cried and thunder ripped through the sky, he held too many regrets as he leapt from Caraxes and plunged Dark Sister deep into his niece’s good eye.

The battle above God’s Eye was a brutal one.

Vhagar, a war dragon in her own right, yet slow from age, against Caraxes, the blood wyrm, the only dragon which can match Daemon’s bloodlust and anger, but always blinded by his rider’s emotions.

Then Daemon, the Rogue Prince, fuelled by pure rage and revenge which boiled within him for years before his opponent was even born, against Aemond, the one-eyed-prince, who knows nothing but the desperate and filthy feeling of wanting to make good of his name.

Their fight raged for what seemed like forever.

The sky cracked and burned with lightning and rain. As Caraxes barely weaved through Vhagar’s piercing jaw, Daemon angrily yelled out. He could see no way he would win this, but he would be damned and let Alicent win. He’ll have to take down both Aemond and Vhagar, even if it costs him his life.

Just as Aemond yells out commands to Vhagar, trying desperately to steer her, Daemon prepares his final attack. And when Vhagar’s jagged and sharp teeth finally sank their might into Caraxes’ wings, Daemon leapt.

Aemond’s one good eye widened in fear as he struggled with the many straps that bound him to the queen of dragons. He could not get away.

Daemon rained down on Aemond’s one good eye like the Gods’ judgement. Plunging dark sister deep into his skull, whilst Caraxes’ neck sprawled to bite Vhagar’s neck.

The four of them fell to the raging sea like Gods. Kin killing kin, dragon killing dragon. Blood dyed the sea red that night. Daemon could only hope you would forgive him for his abandonment in the afterlife.

Had he known that was the last night he’d ever seen you, perhaps he would’ve never gone to the Stepstones.

So as saltwater fills his lungs and burns his eyes, he relinquishes himself to death.

Deer fur has never been the softest, it’s short, stubbly, and quite harsh on the skin. But it is one of the best to bed with when winter comes. Due to this, a layer of sheep fur is always useful when placed atop of deer fur when one wants to sleep. The softness of the sheep perfectly balances the warmth of the deer.

Warmth, comfort, and the plushness of sheep fur atop deer fur greeted Daemon when he roused.

He had thought the afterlife would be warmer and brighter.

When he opens his eyes, the only thing he can see is a haphazardly made wooden roof, dimly lit by very few candles. One of those candles was beside him, giving off some warmth to the side of his face.

His eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting. When he finds that he can’t he tries to move his limbs. Surely if he was dead then his injuries would amount to nothing.

That assumption couldn’t have been more wrong as the moment he tried to sit up using his elbows, pain travelled through his entire body more painful than anything else he’d ever imagined. Causing him to collapse back onto the fur-lined bed.

He groaned loudly as his senses jolted awake from the pain stabbed within him. Was the afterlife truly this ruthless that it asks him to feel his injuries though dead?

His mind feels muddled as if a haze is crossing his eyes. His vision blurs and returns at random intervals and he feels sick. He knows he has a fever. Daemon feels the heat on his skin, despite the coolness of the air around him.

Once more, he tries to move. This time to do a much less taxing task than the one prior. He tries to move some of the animal pelts around him, lessen the heat surrounding him.

But when he lifts his arm to try, the door to the measly home opens with a shuddering sound.

“Gods, you’re awake!” he hears a voice, though it rings in his head and he can barely make out the words.

Had his head not been spinning and pounding against his entire being, he would’ve looked to his left to see who it was.

“Oh no, please stay still. Your injuries are grave and you’ve suffered so much frost.” The voice returns again albeit he still can’t make out the owner of the voice nor the words they speak.

The figure, hazy in colour and shape runs towards him as they fix back his pelts to cover his body. He realises then that he isn’t clothed. He groans when they accidentally place very light pressure on one of his bruises.

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, running towards a table somewhere in the room.

When they return they hold a bowl of viscous liquid.

“Drink it, it’ll help with the drowsiness and the pain.” They speak softly and very slowly.

Though he doesn’t fully comprehend the words, Daemon is too far in his injuries to resist any kind of medicine. The bowl was brought onto his lips and he slowly drinks the viscous and bitter liquid. It burns his throat and tastes disgusting. He almost gags at the feeling of it running down his mouth.

When he finishes the bowl, the figure places it aside and comes back to his bedside.

Slowly, his ragged breathing returns to normal as his head stops its terrible spinning. The fatigue and pain of his muscles and bruises were still there but the burn of them lessened.

When he can feel his throat and mouth again, he trusts himself to speak.

“Who are you?” he whispers.

The figure’s face expresses something, their mouth moves to emote but his vision is still too blurry to know what they are doing.

“I’ll answer your questions once you’ve fully come to yourself. Rest for now, my prince.”

They reach out to brush a strand of his hair that stuck to his sweat-lined forehead. In the corner of his eye, before he succumbs to sleep once more, he sees a silver bracelet. He does not know why he feels safe enough to sleep. But his mind wills him to and his body is too tired to care.

In the days that followed, Daemon comes in and out of consciousness. Every time with blurry vision and a pounding headache. The figure aides to him as best as they can, he remembers them replacing the cold rag on his forehead every now and again. Feed him water and broth, anything liquid enough for him to drink and not have to chew.

On the 1st full moon since his first rouse, he wakes long enough to focus on his vision. The figure wasn’t there, wherever they may be, Daemon was glad for the small moment of respite. It gave him time to think about what had happened.

The fight above God’s Eye. Vhagar struck after Caraxes. His blade embedded itself in his niece. Then his fall. How he has survived so far was beyond him. A part of him wishes he was dead. Let the cold water fill his lungs again, let the salt burn against his eyes, let it stop his heart. Let him meet the one he loved.

But no, it seemed the Gods had cursed him with a life longer than he neither wanted nor deserved.

The figure didn’t come back for at least another hour, since then Daemon has found strength within himself to move his limbs lightly without much pain. His body ached from the lack of movement but that wasn’t the thing he was focused on.

With much rest and nutritious broth, the strength in his mind had returned. With it came his clear vision. Clear enough to see the woman who walked through the haphazardly created wooden door, carrying two hares.

Her clothes were ragged, her hair a mess, her skin muddied with dirt and God knows what else from the hunt. Her riding gear was old and tattered, barely holding onto dear life. But he’d still recognise her even if her body was covered with scars and burns. It was you.

Daemon was confident he looked like a buck who’d just realised a quiver was pointed at it with the way he was looking at you. Eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His eyes focused on you as you huffed your way across this simple home of yours.

Pulling off your shoes and discarding all your gear before grabbing a knife to skin the hares. You hadn’t realised Daemon was awake, he was far too quiet for that. It gave time for Daemon to wonder if he died during his sleep or if you were truly real.

It wasn’t until you’d finished skinning and butchering the hare, placing the skin and organs away for something else and clearing the blood and butchered pieces away that you noticed he was awake. At first, your reaction had been shock, your eyebrows rose and your mouth went slightly agape at the intensity of Daemon’s stare.

But then it softened, and a smile crept its way onto your face. You sighed and placed down your dirty and bloody rag, walking over towards him as his eyes followed you. Your hand, now clean, went over to push away some strands of his hair. Then his eyes caught onto the bracelet once more.

It was you, truly you. You with the valyrian steel bracelet he gave to you so many years ago.

In the choking intensity, Daemon whispered your name once. Like how a devoted disciple would towards his most forgiving of Gods.

“Yes, my love?” You whispered, equally as quiet and reverent.

Daemon choked.

Emotions and years upon years of longing and yearning crawled their way from his heart all the way to his mind a mouth. Rendering him speechless.

“Welcome back, my love.” You repeat, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead.

Not much was done afterwards, though Daemon’s body still pulled him to rest, he tried with all his might to stay awake. Afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d disappear.

But with a soft voice, you coaxed him back to rest. Promising to speak to him once he heals. That was the only thing which allowed him to go back to a peaceful rest.

The next time he awoke, it wasn’t a peaceful rouse. Quite the opposite. A loud shrill sound echoed through the house, it shook the windows and burst through the walls. He knew that sound. Caraxes.

With little to no care for his own well-being, Daemon sprung upwards, since he first woke he’d been clothed. Though it was just a simple and thin shirt and pants to cover himself up but not overheat him in case of a fever.

He winced slightly over the sudden action but the sound of Caraxes led him towards the exit. Clutching his side he lightly limped towards the door and struggled to open it.

“Lykiri Caraxes! Lykiri! Daemon is alright, he’s healing!”

You were in front of the blood wyrm, standing between the large dragon and your measly home. What bravery you held to stand your grown though he could tell the way you shivered you were just as terrified as many at the sight of the dragon.

Caraxes had severe scars all throughout his body, many were closed off, but he could see some marks on his wing and leg which had been expertly dressed with soft leaves. Have you been caring for Caraxes as well?

His thoughts were cut off when Caraxes let out another shrill cry, his head lowering to be at the same level as your much smaller form.

“Lykiri Caraxes,” though he could barely speak above his normal tone, both you and Caraxes heard him quite clearly.

At the sight of his rider, somewhat healthy and standing, Caraxes let out another shrill cry. Though you swear this one sounded much higher pitched. All before he himself also lightly limped away and slumped to the ground not so far away from your fireplace.

“Daemon,” you spoke before rushing towards him to support him. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet!”

At the sudden reprimand, he laughed, “And let you be eaten by Caraxes?”

You huffed, “He wouldn’t, I’ve been tending him for far too long.” You took a nervous glance towards the beast, “At least I hope he wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t.” Daemon states, leaning his head towards your own. Treasuring the feeling of your body against his. “How?” The question hangs heavy in the air.

“Well he’s been unconscious far longer than you have so it was easy to try and patch by his wounds. My only fear was if he didn’t wake up he wouldn’t be able to eat anything, so every now and again I’d leave dead sheep around him in case he wakes up so he could immediately eat. But for the dressing, I don’t have enough cloth to bandage or do anything so I used soft leaves. It’s what I used when I first got here so I thought it’d be al-”

Though you misunderstand the question, Daemon can’t help but feel amused by your lack of hesitancy in speaking. He wouldn’t expect you to go on a tangent like you do now back when the two of you were still in King’s Landing. Years before the war.

“I mean, how are you alive,” he questions after silence over his laughter cutting you off.

At the question, the mood thickens.

“Let’s talk inside.”

You supported Daemon as he staggered inside the small house. Sitting him down lightly over the makeshift bed you’ve been able to make with cloth, feathers, and several different kinds of pelts.

There when the two of you got comfortable you handed him a drinking bowl of warm tea as you sipped on your own. Only after the two of you finished both your tea did you start.

You told him about your banishment, and how Alicent and Otto Hightower framed you for witchcraft and conspiring against the crown. How it was only due to your connection with Rhaenyra that you were able to miss the death sentence. Then you told him about your life in banishment. Essos hadn’t been too bad.

Of course, it took a lot to learn new skills and put them to work. But there were a surprising amount of kind people in the area, especially the worshipers and monks. They taught you how to survive, but you couldn’t leech off of their kindness forever.

So with what little gold you had from working odd jobs here and there, you left for a stranded area. With what survival skills you’d learn you had slowly built a home for yourself. The beach was what brought Daemon and Caraxes to you. Caraxes had been bloodied and mangled. Yet he desperately held Daemon in his claws as he dragged Daemon’s body across the sand.

It was only when he saw you that he collapsed, leaving both the large dragon and his rider to your care. For the past month, you had been making the trip from your home to the beach to care for both Daemon and Caraxes.

Only today did Caraxes find it in himself to wake and fly, though barely. It was when Caraxes landed on your home did Daemon woke up.

That brought you to that very moment.

After you finished, there was a great silence between the two of you.

Daemon was the first to break it.

“I’m sorry.”

Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Rogue Prince, the red wyrm’s rider, amongst his many titles and nicknames, seldom apologised. But with nothing else to his name or on his tongue at this very moment, he thought of the only thing he could say, an apology.

You smiled, casting your gaze to your hands, sheepishly shying away from his intense look as you thought of how to answer him.

“What do you have to apologise for, Daemon?”

His name fell like honey off your tongue, like a choir of songbirds, like the sweetest of fruits from Highgarden. The simple act of it threatened to bring tears to his eyes. How long he had waited for that? For you, to say his name one more time.

He remembered the last time he’d prayed to the gods in his adulthood. It was when he first heard of your banishment. Atop of Caraxes, the beast felt Daemon’s fear and anger clutch against his heart as the red beast ripped through clouds and skies trying to look for any semblance of you. Daemon prayed then. Prayed to find you, prayed to hear you, prayed to see you.

Anything.

No gods heard his plead that night and so he stopped.

But now it felt like every wish he had ever spoken had come true.

There were no words left to speak. Only actions.

Careful and dainty actions, considering Daemon’s physical state. Your lips pressed and moulded against one another. Letting years upon years of pent-up yearning and hopes spill through a single act.

Your heart soared, here was the man you loved, finally in your bed. No more words were spoken that night. Only sighs and soft moans of pleasure and contentment were heard throughout the lone and simple house.

As the two of you lay in one another’s company, new hopes soared between the two of you. And Daemon promises one last thing, a promise he intends to fulfil this time.

The promise of bringing you back home to Dragonstone once Caraxes and he can.

Why Daemon? “Once I had wondered what was holding’ up the ground // But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down // Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We’ll gloat away, but if we fall // I only pray, don’t fall away from me.” The song references to Icarus and Deadalus, the myth speaks about the Greek value of moderation. Icarus falls because he is so enchanted by his godly visage and his lightness that he’s enchanted by the sun and the wax melts. Hozier talks about an all encompassing feeling of falling in love that encompasses your being so much so that you’d do anything for your love. In more ways than one, both the Reader and Daemon have fallen from grace due to their love for one another. It’s the godly pull they have with each other that leads to Reader’s banishment and Daemon’s belief that she’s dead. The song inspires the last and first part of Daemon and Reader’s romance story, they lean on one another in more ways than one. Reader becomes Daemon’s friend, a true and honest friend built on mutual respect and affection. Whilst Daemon becomes Reader’s confidant, someone to go for comfort and source of joy. By the end of the story, neither thinks about the past, Daemon doesn’t care about the way the Reader has been living and Reader doesn’t care too much about why Daemon and Caraxes’ so injured. The two of them just cares for each other that nothing else matters and I think that’s so fucking sweet.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x you #daemon #daemon fluff #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #red ink unreal unearth event

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sunboki · 1 year

Text

— WHEN THINGS WERE SIMPLE a Lee Minho fiction

⭐️ : Lee Minho(Leeknow) x fem. reader

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

WORD COUNT. 7.7k ☆ 37 minute read

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

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

PLAYLIST.

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

or alternatively :

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

1999.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t.

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

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

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

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

Huh? Where is he going.

Is this guy serious!?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…Of course. You should’ve known.

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

How disappointing.

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

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

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

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

This week was already off to a great start.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You suck.”

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

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

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

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

“Fifty dollars for the damage.”

Damn it!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh.

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

“Hm?” Is what he responds with.

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

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

Strange.

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

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

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

“Full House? Nope, we’re all out.”

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

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

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

What. A. Prick.

Jesus he looks good right now.

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

In a sense, they were your friend.

YOU: Lino98?

LINO98: Hm?

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

LINO98: Well that’s a random question

YOU: Shhh just answer

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

LINO98: I want to be a dancer

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

LINO98: What else would a dancer do ㅎㅎ

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

LINO98: You’re sweet, saying that

YOU: Hey hey don’t get all sappy

LINO98: I mean it ㅋㅋㅋ

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

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

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

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

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

You jump, reaching to turn off the old monitor.

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

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

Bingo.

Patting the doorframe, she disappears once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So.. Why’d you transfer here?”

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

“You like this stuff, huh.”

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

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

“No- I do, thanks.”

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

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

Weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unbelievable. Absolutely, unforgivably, unbelievable.

“And what about now?”

More thinking.

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoot!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Minho?”

He turns to you.

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

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

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

You frown, he doesn’t notice.

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

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

“..A sports car?”

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

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

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

Minho thinks you're very, very cute.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

Minho hopes you think he’s cute too.

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

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

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

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

Don’t ask about the last one.

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

“Y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

He’s kidding. You’re kidding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, liar.”

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

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

So why did you feel sad walking back to school?

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

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

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

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

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

If only you had known.

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

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

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

LINO98: Need to vent?

YOU: I thought you’d never ask ㅠㅠ

LINO98: Alright alright, go on

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

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

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

YOU: That’s exactly what it’s like

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

LINO98: Would Marronnier Park work?

YOU: Didn't think you’d be so willing

LINO98: What can I say, we work well together

YOU: How will we find each other though?

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

YOU: Tomorrow at noon?

LINO98: I’ll be there

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gosh, your stomach was doing backflips right now.

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeesh you sound ugly when you cry.”

Is that.. Jisung?

“Han Jisung, give me back the phone!”

Jisung over at Yuqi’s house. Weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YOU: Hey, can we talk?

LINO98: I thought you’d never ask

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

LINO98: You can be honest, Y/n

YOU: I am, promise

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

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

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

LINO98: Hm

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

LINO98: Seems we still work well together

YOU: Don't say that, I’ll get PTSD..

LINO98: Sorry sorry ㅜㅜ

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

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

Like adults.

What a bizarre phrase coming from you.

And it looked as if he felt the same too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stifle a chuckle.

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

You hear him take a deep breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He opens his mouth again.

“Kiss on new years?”

You can hear the countdown begin.

“Ten!”

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

“Nine!”

Should you take the chance?

“Eight!”

Will this hurt you?

“Seven!”

Haven’t you been hurting enough?

“Six!”

He’s leaving in a few days.

“Five!”

It’s now or never.

“Four!”

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

“Three!”

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

“Two!”

Partially, you feel grateful you couldn’t.

“One!”

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

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

“Let’s welcome the year 2000!”

2000.

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

YOU: Didn’t we see each other yesterday?

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

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

LINO98: Sounds good to me〜

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

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

Minho tasted like Coca cola. You kissed Minho.

Wow.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. My. God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we stay like this forever?”

He smiles.

“Forever it is.”

2009.

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

Exhilarating, perhaps. Terrifying, also perhaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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

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tragedry · 1 month

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hi ry, can you tell us what your fave ashler moment is and why 👀😳

i have a lot anon... like a lot™

so narrowing it down to a single ashler moment is pretty difficult.. but if i had to pick a particular moment that i can't stop thinking about lately, it would have to be this:

EPISODE 57-58 (LET THE ASHLER META POST BEGIN)

idt anyone ever talks about how much ashlyn actually cares about tyler.

we've seen them bicker (like an old married couple) so many times in the webtoon, but this is the kind of moment where you stop and realize that ashlyn and tyler are close. and that they actually trust and care about each other. like a lot.

in chapter 57, during their video call, we get a glimpse of their interaction and it's honestly such an eye opener.

bc we see tyler volunteering to be left behind (out of his need to keep everyone safe and to not be a burden), and ashlyn immediately shoots that offer down with a hard "AND I SAID WE AREN'T GOING TO DO THAT" indicating that they have already had this conversation before, and further emphasizing that she has no plans of leaving him behind. (which not only highlights how they literally bicker like an old married couple, but also how unlikely it is to believe that these two could ever hate each other, so anyone who thinks ashler are trying to slit each other's throat definitely need to re read the source material bc ash would rather eat rocks than leave tyler behind)

(and i love how she even goes out of her way to get mad at him for making light of his current situation. like we can really see how seriously ash took his situation to heart and that no amount of tyler making like of his situation to appease her, could ever make her forget what happened-- which honestly goes to show how: 1.) ashlyn cares about him. and 2.) tyler feels the need to elevate that guilt from her in any way he can.)

i also adore her refusal to leave him behind and how her insistence to stick to their plan goes on for the next two panels or so, not to mention the fact that she literally berates him for his recklessness after waking up from the hospital.

Ashlyn: Not to mention, the stroke from shock could've killed you!

Tyler: Fine, fine, whatever. Stop yelling.

look at his expression from their lil exchange, i love how resigned he is to her nagging LMAO

but going back to my point, the fact that ash goes on to emphasize her point truly highlights the fact that she does not want him to die, making her concern for his well-being quite obvious!

AND THEN WE GET TO CHAPTER 58!!

MAN THERE'S SO MUCH TO SAY!!

(tw for blood up ahead!!)

FIRST OF ALL,

ASHLYN FINDS HIM FIRST.

in a very dangerous, life-threatening, high stakes situation--where every second counts--where tyler's life is literally hanging on by a thread, ashlyn finds him.

she finds him and immediately eliminates the immediate threat to tyler's life.

and that all happens in the blink of an eye,,, well it's probably more than that, but the way these two scenes are drawn is meant to emphasize two things: ashlyn's ability to find tyler and her ability/efficiency to dispose of a phantom in order to protect those she cares for!

and i just love how her expression immediately shifts from concern (upon taking care of the immediate threat) to downright terrified (as soon as she realizes the state tyler is in)

she couldn't even bear to finish her question, and it breaks my heart to see such a haunted look on her face. she is literally faced with the sight of tyler impaled to a tree and loosing far too much blood, and it must have been such a juxtapose to the last time she had seen him (in the hospital, whole and unhurt) that it's no wonder ash literally freezes for a moment here, only for tyler's blood to drip on her cheek.

TALK ABOUT TRAUMA.

i would also like to point out that she came rushing to his aid alone.

with the way aiden and the rest of the group seemed to be looking for her, we can all concluded that ashlyn had been the only one to hear tyler's scream and immediately started running to find him, probably at the expense of leaving the rest of the group in her desperation to get to tyler in time.

and while the rest of the group is obviously taking in the brand new trauma of seeing their friend (brother in tay's case) literally dying in front of them, ash has already recovered enough (or at least has steeled herself enough to find move and focus on the important task at hand)

and it's so important for me to note how she doesn't berate the rest for freezing up.

but she also doesn't coddle them, opting to let them process and handle the situation on their own as she takes in the biggest responsibly (and burden) of climbing up the tree in order to sedate tyler.

literally cannot get over this moment, the slight tremble of ashlyn's hand, the way her voice remains steady as she promises to get him down, followed by tyler's soft "... okay."

(he's obviously in a lot of pain, and talking was probably the least of the things he should be doing, and yet he still felt compelled to answer her)

and can we just talk about the way she was able to hold herself together up until she was able to get down, but immediately had a full body tremble right after.

my poor girl....

chapter 58 truly is one of the darkest moments between ashler (aside from the season finale and the fourth episode following it, which i'll explain in a bit)

i say 'darkest' in the sense that tyler's near death is the manifestation of ashlyn's biggest fear: failing the people she cares about.

her breakdown during episode 52 had been a culmination of having to not only survive but lead her friends to safety from monsters actively trying to kill them every night.

but the tipping point had been failing to stop tyler's fall, followed by having to make the difficult decision of leaving him behind in order to save the rest of her friends, immediately followed by having to see tyler convulsing as soon as they wake up from their trip to the phantom dimension.

could you imagine how horrific the scene is in ashlyn's pov, having to see tyler (someone who normally has a large presence, and easily towers over most of their group) literally looking so helpless in mike's arms?

the realization of ty's fragility, at the fact that all of them are just kids who were thrown into a world fulls of horrific creatures trying to kill them, and having no one else to rely on.. and being shouldered with the responsibility of being the leader...

ashlyn took tyler's hospitalizations (his fall) as a personal blow. a failure that practically leads her to breaking down.

and she had carried that guilt with her, and even when ty had reassured her later on (which is honestly such a good ashler moment btw, feel free to read my thoughts abt it here) it's not something she can easily let go of...

i honestly think that ashlyn still carries the guilt with her--a part of herself still remains haunted by tyler's fall, and she took it as a personal blow.

which leads us back to episode 57-58! where we get to see her practically coddle tyler in episode 57 in her own way (ie scolding him for his self-sacrificing nature and for his recklessness despite the extent of his injury)

and in episode 58, how she had been the first one to find him and was the one to save him (from the phantom) as well as lead the team from extracting him out of the tree.

now that ashlyn has experienced the grief and guilt of failing tyler once, she took it upon herself to make sure it never happens again.

and that's why this particular sequence of events haunts my narrative to this very day, and why ashler has such a chokehold on me.

the idea that ashlyn's protectiveness of tyler stems from her own guilt of failure, along with her growing bond and friendship with him, paired with tyler's trust and growing fondness of her.

(which i've already pointed out before here and here)

all of this to say that ashler is a very compelling ship, with depths and moments that aren't as glaringly obvious, and yet the way in which their relationship has grown and developed throughout the webtoon is irrefutable and becoming increasingly obvious through each episode, especially when you actually take the time to read and check the source material.

anyway, that's the end of my very long ashler meta regarding ep 57-58 (crazy how this isn't even tackling the entirety of the webtoon, but i'll get to that when i have the time to compile each and every moment of theirs and analyze it)

i had a lot of fun talking about them, and i appreciate all the asks y'all are sending me (it's the perfect excuse for me to keep yapping LMAO)

ending this meta with: live, laugh, love ashler ❤️❤️

#school bus graveyard #sbg #ashler #tylyn #tyler hernandez #ashlyn banner #ry.plies #ashler meta #anon #hopefully this is an eye opener for some #especially those who refuse to acknowledge ty and ash's friendship...#anyway if yall have any more stuff you wanna ask me my inbox is open!!#also it's like 5 am rn and i don't really have the energy to check for typos so... 🙈#as you can see i'm very serious about this ship LMAO

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babybluebex · 1 year

Text

rememories | tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: the lee family trashed your betting room, including your most prized possessions, and tommy does everything in his power to soothe you and right the wrongs that the rival gang caused. pairing: tommy shelby (peaky blinders) x fem!reader tags: s1!tommy, tommy being a sweetheart, your daughter's name is thomasine (thanks @lost-in-sokovia for that one), no real warnings for this other than like angst? brief emotional distress? idk author's note: it's come to this lol. i'll be fixing my cillian masterlist later and reblogging it, so y'all can read all of my old tommy fics (and a few other cillian characters lmao) but i hope you enjoy this one!

The backroom was in total disrepair. Chairs were tipped over, things were thrown from tables, coins scattered everywhere and marks of bludgeonings on the walls. The poor little room was merely a shell of itself, its personality and life battered away. You could still hear your husband’s jaded laughter as he made fun of John for wanting to marry Lizzie Stark, but mere minutes ago now seemed like a lifetime away.

Scudboat sat as Arthur poured him whisky, and he explained how the Lees, “the whole lot of ‘em”, came in and destroyed the betting backroom. He was ambushed, he said, or he would have done a better job defending it. You held Tommy’s hands as fear made your own shake, and your husband sighed. “Find what can be salvaged,” he said, narrowly missing John’s angry fit as he kicked a box over. “Anything is better than nothing.”

“This is terrible,” you sniffled, and Tommy extracted his handkerchief for you. It was one that you had bought for him right after you had gotten married and just before he went to war, and you were always amazed that the silky cloth made it as far as it did. You dabbed at your eyes, scowling at your dark makeup that came off, and your heart beat fiercely against your ribcage for a moment. “The children. Was Finn here for this, Scudboat? Or Thomasine?”

“Nah,” he said. “Finn was off in town; Thomasine ain’t come home from school yet.”

“Oh, Tommy, they can’t see the house like this!” you whimpered and clutched your husband’s arm. “It’ll upset Thomasine too much. I’ll fetch her from school and keep her away from the house for a while until this is mostly fixed.”

Tommy nodded wordlessly in agreement, and he began to take off his cap, but he quickly stopped. He was fixated on something on the floor at his feet, and you looked down to match his gaze, only to be greeted with the big leather book that held your most prized possessions: your photographs. You kept the album in the betting room because it was always filled with people, witnesses in case something happened, and, really, who would want to ruin Tommy Shelby’s wife’s photographs?

Your knees crunched on glass as you lowered yourself to the album, and you took it in your shaking hands. The dark green leather was stained black with spilled ink and oil, obscuring your gold-foiled name on the spine, and you opened the book with a creak of the old pages. You didn’t want to have to assess the damage, but the first page already had you weeping pathetically again. The first photograph, the first one ever taken of you and Tommy, sitting and laughing together as Ada tried out her new camera, years and years ago at fifteen and thirteen. It was gone. The page was yellowed all around where the photograph should be, but the picture itself was gone. You wanted to throw the book across the room and scream; you weren’t concerned with material things, many girls from Small Heath were the same way, but those photographs were your pride and joy. The next page was a formal picture taken of Tommy wearing his Army uniform, his lanky seventeen-year-old build a little too small for the uniform that he would grow into. The corner of the photograph was torn but, thankfully, mostly intact.

The third page made you press the book to your chest. Your wedding photographs. You and Tommy had gotten married quickly, two days before he had to go to France, and, in your haste, you hadn’t been able to afford much. You could only afford a single copy of each photograph: one of you in your Sunday best that was your wedding dress, one of Tommy in his uniform, and one of you together. All three photographs were torn to shreds, settled in the spine of the book, waiting for you to find them. Those wedding photographs were the most important thing in the world to you, and now they were gone. Not even pasting glue could fix it. “Tom!” you sobbed, pressing the back of your wrist to your mouth. “O-Our wedding photographs! Th-They’re all ripped up!”

Your husband’s attention went from Scudboat to you, and he walked over to you and knelt down next to you. He took the small bits of photographs in his fingers, examining them intently, and he sighed heavily. “Fuck, love,” he whispered, and your sobs grew heavy. If Tommy was resigned to fate, then there was no chance of them being fixed. “I’m sorry.”

“We-We don’t have any extras, do we?” you stuttered. Your mouth felt dry as your fingers tried to match the ripped edges of photographs up, but they were too far gone. “Tom, d-do we have any others? Th-These aren’t the only ones we have, right?”

Tommy sat down next to you and put an arm around you, and he watched you frantically sob for just a second more before he used his strength to pull you into his chest. The photo album fell out of your hands, and you clutched your husband as you wailed in sorrow. Your wedding photos were gone.

“Mummy?” you heard a little voice call from the doorway, and you turned to see your wee daughter, Miss Thomasine Sophia Shelby, standing at the door. She was holding her school books in her arms, the pink ribbon in her hair coming loose. Thomasine was born just after Tommy come home from France, five years ago, and she looked like a Shelby, dark hair and bright eyes, but she had her father’s smile. “Mummy, why’re you crying?”

You sniffled and wiped at your eyes, not caring that you streaked your makeup to hell and back, and you mumbled, “People came into the house, did us over. I-I’m just sad, that’s all.” You didn’t want to worry your daughter with the real reason why you were so upset, because, truly, you felt silly for being so distraught at fucking photographs. It felt ridiculous for you, as a grown woman, a mother, to be crying over photographs.

Thomasine ran to you and sat her small body in your lap, and she wrapped her small arms around you. “Don’t be sad,” Thomasine told you, and you laughed humorlessly. “It’s okay, Mummy.”

You sniffled and soothed your hand down Thomasine’s hair— the ends of her long hair were turning a little ginger, just the same as her father’s tended to do in the sun— and you kissed her forehead. “Thank you, love,” you whispered. “Hug your father, he’s sad too.”

Thomasine crawled out of your lap and into Tommy’s, and Thomasine started to suck her thumb as Tommy stood up and settled his daughter firmly on his hip. He offered you a hand to stand up, and you sniffled as you gathered the soiled photo album up in your grip and stood up on your own. “If you find any of ‘em,” Tommy called to the room, and he gestured to the album in your arms. “Bring ‘em to her, don’t waste time. Yeah?”

You hardly slept that night. After securing the house and making sure that there wasn’t any other part of it that the Lees had touched, you had tried to go about your life normally, but it was difficult to pretend like you didn’t know that, at any time, rivals could enter your home and slaughter every last one of you. You put Thomasine to bed after dinner, and your girl fell asleep quickly, but you yourself were awake for hours. Tommy had taken your photo album and put it away in his wardrobe; “If you keep it, you’ll fret over it forever.” He was right, of course, because, when the sun came up, you had tugged it out and was trying to sort through the scraps of photographs on your bedroom floor. The room was cold and part of you wished that you could be in bed, holding your husband close, but you needed to do it for yourself. You had managed to salvage a single photograph by the time Tommy was blinking himself awake, and you sniffled as you beckoned him over. “Tommy, look!” you exclaimed. “I-It’s Thomasine!”

“Jesus, woman,” Tommy sighed groggily. “Have you been at this all night?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “Her baby picture, look!”

Tommy reached down for you and he took your hand, and he helped you stand up, his hands going to hold your cheeks. “I know you’re having a hard time with this,” he whispered. “But obsessing over it is only going to make it worse. They’re as good as gone, darling.”

“B-But—” you sniffled, and Tommy shook his head.

“You have to let it go,” He told you firmly. “Come back to bed, you don’t have to be awake for hours.”

“Oh, Tommy,” you sighed, shuffling back up to bed. Your joints hurt from sitting on the floor practically all night, and your vision watered up as you watched Tommy gather up the album and photograph scraps and set them back in his wardrobe. “What am I going to do? All of my favorite memories are lost.”

“You still have the memories in your head, love,” Tommy told you, sitting next to you. You leaned into him and pressed your cheek to his warm chest, and you sniffled as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I just…” you mumbled. “Our wedding pictures is the thing I’m most upset about. We were so young, and that was before everything went to shit, and we were so happy…”

“We’re still happy,” Tommy assured you. “We’re happier now, because we have Thomasine. We’re a complete family now.”

“You know what I mean,” you said. “We were poor kids, and-and looking at those pictures gave me hope that you’d come home when you were in France. They were my lifeline for a long time, and to have them ruined like this…”

Tommy’s lips formed into a thin line, and he rubbed your back comfortingly as you finally laid down and tried to settle into sleep. Your sleep was thin, hardly even deep enough to call proper sleep, but you finally woke up and got out of bed when you heard shouting down in the bottom of the house. You were used to that, but you still felt like you ought to make sure everything was alright, so you pulled yourself from bed and went about groggily getting ready for the day, slipping on a dress and spraying on perfume before descending the stairs.

The noise seemed to be coming from the back room, the ruined betting room, and you carefully pushed back the plush curtains and opened the doors to see a sight. Your eyes first landed on your husband, dressed in his old uniform. It certainly looked too small for him, tugging a little at his chest, but you clenched your teeth together at the sight. How long has it been since you saw him in the pea-soup-green uniform? Five years, at least. “Tommy,” you said softly. You couldn’t help yourself from stepping closer to him as his head snapped to look at you, and his hard gaze softened in the way it always did when he saw you. He never subjected you to his steely gaze, and, whenever you saw it, it always reminded you of what a feared man he was.

“Fuck, love, what’re you doing down here?” Tommy asked. “You’re supposed to be asleep still.”

“Heard shouting,” you said softly. The other men were bustling around the room as you smoothed your hands up Tommy’s chest, and your eyes went all watery again. “This isn’t happening, please, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked. “Talk to me, darling, what’s the matter?”

“How long have you known?” you asked, sniffling. “Leaving us like this, how could you?”

“What?”

“The uniform, Tommy!” you cried. “You’re being called to the war again, why else would you have this shit on?”

Tommy grabbed your cheeks and kissed your forehead, and he angled your head to the side. Arthur stood there, behind a massive camera, angled at a blank space on the wall, and your breath caught in your throat. “What is this?” you asked.

“I’m not being called back,” Tommy explained. “I got to thinking about our wedding pictures, and I went to see the photographer who made them. He said the film was too old and that they couldn’t make you new copies, so the next best thing was to retake them.”

“Oh?” you asked. You sniffled and wiped your nose, and you gently reached out to touch the camera. “We… We’re retaking our wedding pictures?”

“With a few adjustments,” Tommy said. “Back then, I couldn’t afford to even get you so much as a bouquet, but now… Well, I took your measurements to a dress shop, and even though the dress was pre-made and only adjusted to you…”

“Tommy?” you whimpered.

“I got you a wedding dress, love,” Tommy told you. “Better than the flour-bag Sunday best that you had on.”

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, and you sobbed once before flying to your husband and crushing him in a hug. “Oh, Tommy!” you cried. “Thank you! Can I see it?”

“Pol’s got it in the kitchen,” Tommy told you. “Go put it on, why don’t you let me see it?”

The dress was beautiful. Eggshell-colored silk that fell below your knees with long sleeves and deep neckline, very fashionable and pretty, and it fit you like a glove as Polly helped you into it. She primped you a little, fixing your hair and patting red rouge onto your lips, and she upturned a vase next to the stove and handed you the bouquet of wildflowers that Thomasine had picked a few days earlier. You felt timid and almost nervous as Polly escorted you back to the betting room, and you cleared your throat once you passed the threshold, afraid that, if you spoke, your voice would give up on you.

Tommy looked to you in an instant, and he gave you a small smile as he stepped towards you. “Aren’t you a sight?” he said in his rumbling timbre, putting his hands on your hips, and he kissed your lips for a moment before he added, “Thomasine might get a brother before the day’s over, if you keep looking that beautiful.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggled, and he steered you in front of the camera as you smoothed down your dress. You were suddenly nervous, and you clutched Tommy’s hand as Arthur cranked the camera, preparing it to go off. “Tom?”

“M’right here, pet,” Tommy said, squeezing your hand. “Just smile; everything will be fine.”

By the time night fell, you had a whole slew of new film, new pictures to replace the ruined ones. Recreations of your wedding pictures, an updated picture of a smiling Thomasine, even one of Tommy kissing you when the camera went off on accident. Thomasine was tangled in your skirts then, gazing up at her daddy, and you looked at the film as you sat by the fire that night, smiling and admiring it. That was your favorite memory; you, your husband, and your daughter, smiling, laughing, loving. It was perfect.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillain murphy x you

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iiconicxpersona · 1 year

Text

Don’t Leave Me

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: After an extremely traumatic experience during the Escobar case, reader debates between staying in Colombia with Javier or leaving him for good.

Warnings: smut (18+) mvrd3r, depression, angst, read at your own risk, minors DNI

A/N: Had to repost because original only posted half 😫 to be fair I was at target lmao

Life as the significant other of a DEA agent was no joke, especially for Javier Peña. You had heard the horror stories on the news, and you knew there was much more gruesome details Javier wasn’t telling you about. He sheltered you to the best of his abilities for your sake and for the sake of his own sanity. He liked coming home to some sort of normalcy, but he loved how even after the most life threatening days all it took was holding you in his arms and kissing your lips to make everything all right again. You were his sanctuary, his home.

However, after a year into your relationship with Javi, you finally got a small taste of what Pablo Escobar and the Colombian cartels were capable of.

Javier didn’t give you too many details, but he warned you that it might be safer for you to go back to America and stay with your family until the heat cooled down. Pablo had figured out Javier and Steve Murphy were hot on his tracks and the last thing Javi wanted was for you to get hurt. Nevertheless, you fought against the idea of leaving him—even if it was just temporary—until Javi finally gave in. “You got yourself a fighter, Javs.” Murphy would tell him.

“She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.” Javier would respond.

He was right. You had absolutely no fucking idea of what you were getting yourself into, until one morning you woke up to the nonstop ringing of the doorbell to your and Javi’s shared apartment. You should’ve known something was up when you looked through the peephole and saw that nobody was there, but curiosity got the best of you.

When you opened the door, there was a package on the floor with no labels on it. You wanted to ignore it, and if Javier didn’t have to leave early for work that morning he would’ve gotten rid of it himself. You had a gut feeling not to open it, but your body reacted faster than your brain and before you knew it the package was sitting on the coffee table in front of you. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Quiet enough that if the package was a bomb, you would hear it. No such sound was made. The Devil and Angel on your shoulders raged against each other on the idea of opening it until you finally started cutting the tape off.

The scream that left your lungs at the sight haunted the entire apartment complex for months. Inside the box were the lifeless head and hands of a woman with features similar to yours. The hands cradled each side of the head while wrapped securely in saran wrap to prevent the blood from dripping. It was pretty clear that this was a message for Javi and for you. They know who you are. They’re watching you.

Javier knew right then and there that you were no longer safe from the reality of this cruel world. His home had been tainted. His sanctuary had burned to the ground. This was all his fault. He shouldn’t have asked you out the night Steve’s wife Connie introduced you. He shouldn’t have called you back for a second and third date. He shouldn’t have made love to you. He shouldn’t have fallen in love with you, but he did.

He fell hard for you, and the worst part is you fell just as hard for him too, even when there were so many signs from his job alone telling you to leave him. This package was the biggest sign of them all.

As much as he loved you, Javier wouldn’t have blamed you one bit if you decided to break up with him. He expected it to happen sooner or later, but despite everything you still chose to stay. “Javier, I love you. We’re in this together no matter what.”

“I promise, cariño, I’m done when this is over. I love you. I want you to marry me. I want you to be the mother of my children. I want to start a new life with you.”

“I want that too, Javi, so much.”

—

Life only seemed to get harder ever since the package delivery scene. As if it wasn’t enough to try and protect himself and Steve on a daily basis, now you were added to the mix. Even though he knew during the day you were safe with Connie at work, on the inside he still worried himself to death over you. He needed to know where you were at every hour of the day and to know you were safe. Steve tried to convince Javi to think of you as one of the former informants he used to sleep with and toss to the back burner while on the job, but Javi couldn’t if he tried. He didn’t love them. He loves you.

That’s the problem; you love Javier. You don’t want to be without him. You and Javier belong together. So why are you still fighting the thought of leaving him? Why are you still looking for any excuse to pack your things and walk away from Colombia and from Javi forever? Why can’t you do it when he flat out tells you “if you want to leave then leave”?

Ever since the delivery, you felt your love for Javier and your sanity struggling to balance on a sewing thread. You couldn’t get the image of the lifeless body parts out of your head. The face of the poor woman haunted you in your sleep. It was as if you were watching like a fly on the wall as her life was being taken away just for a few of her remains to be on your doorstep. And for what? Why did it have to take harming an innocent woman to scare you?

Javier could feel you slipping away from him. Every time he tried to pull you back down to earth, it only ended in an argument. He didn’t like going to bed with your back facing him. He didn’t like ending every fight with giving you the opportunity to leave him for good. He didn’t like going to bed angry and waking up to you not talking to him. He didn’t like hearing you silently sob yourself back to sleep after your reoccurring nightmares, but he had no choice. You weren’t the same anymore. He hated his job for fucking up his own sanity, but he hated it even more for destroying the one good thing he was given in his life; you.

—

After a month of trying to overcome everything by yourself, you finally decided to seek professional help from one of the therapists the DEA provided. Connie recommended for you to see her therapist, Trinidad, after Javier came to Connie desperate for some advice.

Trinidad understood the confidentiality of the ongoing investigation, so she didn’t press you for details. You explained to her about your nightmares and your relationship with Javi. In the end she was only there to let you talk her ear off and prescribe you with anxiety and anti-depressant medication. If it wasn’t for the obvious reasons, you could’ve just called your mom or best friend and did all this from home for free.

By the time Javi came home from work that night, you were already in bed with your back facing his side. You weren’t asleep—God knows you haven’t had a decent sleep in a month—instead you just stared blankly at the wall in front of you. Feeling Javi’s body weight taking his place on his side of the bed, you waited anxiously for the sound of his faint snore to signal it was time for you to yet again sob yourself to sleep.

However, you felt the weight change and suddenly his body was pressed against your back. One of his hands caressed your hip as he began trailing gentle kisses from your shoulder, to your neck, all the way to the shell of your ear.

“Cariño, come back to me, por favor.” He whispered.

Oh how your body ached for his touch. It feels like forever since he last called you ‘cariño’. You didn’t realize how much you missed him. Even though your body was telling him different, your words were trying to push him away.

“Javi, please, don’t.” You groaned as your head fell backwards and your fingers entangled in his hair.

“Please mi vida. We haven’t made love in so long. I miss you.” His hand ran slowly under your sleepwear, at the same time pushing you gently backwards until your body was fully pressed against him.

You gasped at the feel of his bare body spooning you. The arm that was holding him up snaked under your neck and secured your upper body in place as his other hand slowly massaged your soaking wet clit. A desperate moan escaped your lips and you began grinding yourself on his hand.

“Fuck. I missed you so much, baby.” He groaned against your ear.

“I missed you too, Javi. So. Much.” Your legs began spreading wider until your top leg overlapped his own.

His hand fully engulfed your pussy and his fingers slowly worked their way inside you, massaging your walls as you tightened around him. The sound of your moans making him harder than a rock and you could feel how desperate he was to be inside you by how hard he was dry humping you from the back.

You turned your head to face him with your hand still gripping his hair and your hips grinding harder into his hand. “Kiss me.” You moaned.

He didn’t hold back. Javier kissed you so deeply that it took your breath away. Almost as if you were experiencing it for the first time. In fact, this felt almost similar to when he did make love to you for the first time. He made you feel safe. He made you feel beautiful. He worshipped your body like an absolute goddess, kissing every scar and every beauty mark he could find and devouring you like you were his only meal.

The only restraint you had on him were the clothes you had on and you knew he was getting desperate to tear them off, but he also wanted to take his time with you. He wanted to make you feel good. To release the fear and tension that held you captive from him for the past month. He was desperate just to have you back.

His hand gradually picked up the pace and you whined in pure bliss in his mouth. “Javi… baby… I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Javier whispers in between kisses.

Your lips connected once more in a deep breathtaking kiss as you came hard on his hand. Beads of sweat now starting to form on your bodies.

You rode out your high on his hand and continued to kiss him at the same time, cherishing every moment. “I love you.” You moaned in between kisses.

“I love you too. More than anything.” His hand slipped out of your pants and you both adjusted yourselves to where he was now on top of you in a missionary position. “Querida, I don’t want to be without you, but I don’t want you to live in fear with me either. You’re so pure to me, so fragile. I’ll protect you no matter what. Just please, please don’t leave me like that again.”

Tears fell down your face as you stared up at him. Your heart swelled and broke in your chest at the same time. You didn’t realize it until now, but you scared him. The entire month you shut yourself away from him scared him more than any dangerous curveball his job threw at him. He could be sitting face to face with Escobar himself and that didn’t scare him as much as the thought of knowing his last memory of you would be you scared, tired, sad and angry with him. No last kiss, no last ‘see you later my love’, no last lunch time call, no nothing. And at that moment, you hated yourself for being so selfish the past month. “I’m so sorry, Javi. I didn’t realize—“

He shushed you and gently wiped away your tears. “No llores, mi vida. You have nothing to be sorry about. Just promise me you’ll try to talk to me next time. That’s all I ask.”

You immediately nodded and peppered his lips with kisses. “I will. I’m so sorry baby. I love you so much.” You said in between.

“I love you too.” He returned each kiss and embraced your body closer to him.

Your hands gripped at his bare back as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Make love to me, Javi.” You whispered.

Without hesitation he pulled you up high enough to remove your top, exposing your breasts and you helped him remove your shorts and panties until you were just as bare as he was.

Still sitting upright on his knees, he hugged you body close to him as you adjusted yourself on his lap until his tip was pushing inside you. For a brief moment, you and Javi stared lovingly into each others eyes, saying everything you couldn’t spit out into words right now and kissed each other passionately.

Gasping as you sunk down on him, you had to take a moment to adjust to his size. A month felt like an eternity without him inside you. He groaned as your walls clenched around him and he gently pushed himself further inside you, guiding your hips with his hands as he felt you slowly grind down on him and your body relaxing.

“There you go, baby. Relax for me.” He smiled in the kiss.

You broke the kiss to throw your head back from the pleasure, but one of his hands caught the back of your head and guided you back down to him. “No baby, keep your eyes on me.” He begged and you nodded.

Javi wanted to cherish every moment when he would make love to you. He loved the way your body moved perfectly with his, how the sweat covered you from head to toe, the way your eyes desperately tried to stay open to look at him even when he was balls deep inside you. But what he loved most of all was the sounds you made. The praises that spilled from your beautiful lips, letting him know exactly how good he was making you feel. He loved hearing you moan, especially his name. He didn’t care if anyone else in the complex heard them or not, but if they did then he wanted them to know it was him and only him that could make you feel this good. Just as you wanted everyone to know you belong to Javier Peña and Javier Peña belongs to you.

He pushed you backwards until you were back in the missionary position and kissed you once more. His arms hooked your legs over them and he spread you open wider. Biting at your jawline and chin. His thrusts slammed into you harder and deeper, making you and him moan each other’s names louder. Your nails clawed at his back and he hissed.

It must have occurred to both of you subconsciously that he wasn’t wearing protection and you haven’t taken your birth control pills in the past week, but that didn’t slow either of you down.

“I want you to have my babies.” He groaned against your lips and continued thrusting deep into you.

“Then give them to me, Javi.” You moaned.

Javier lost all self restraint at that moment. He gripped tighter at your legs as his thrusts became faster and deeper, making you cry out for him even louder.

“Ahh, Javi… oh god! So! Fucking! Good!”

“You’re so fucking perfect cariño. All mine.”

You could feel that both of you are so close. His thrusts became sloppy and desperate as you fell apart underneath him.

“Are you ready, my love?” He kissed you once more and tried to keep eye contact with you.

“Give me your babies, Javi.”

And just like that, you both came undone hard at the same time and quivered in each others embrace.

Javi stayed on top of you and kept himself buried deep inside you as if he was afraid of spilling out. You smiled up at him and kissed him passionately once more.

“There’s that beautiful smile I missed so much.”

You giggled. “I’m never leaving you again.”

#javier peña #javier peña narcos #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x y/n #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña imagine #narcos fanfiction #narcos imagine #pedro pascal x reader

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verosikastrikerstellaexcuser · 4 months

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I’m still disappointed in the way they wrote Stella. It was so… boring. For a show that champions it’s “messy” and “morally grey” characters, Stella is turned into a one-dimensional hate sink who exists for the sole purpose of being mean to Stolas. The show never fails to consider that she was forced into this marriage too and retcon’s Octavia’s comments about them not always hating each other. Which sounds more interesting, a noblewoman forced into an arranged marriage who puts up with it for the sake of status until her husband threatens to bring it all crashing down upon both her and her daughter so she hires an assassin to prevent her life from going down the drain or a whiny brat who exists solely to torment him?

Yeup you can see how they retconned Octavia’s comments and things they established about Stella and Stolas etc. It’s really noticeable and it makes the show anger inducing. No, you can’t just go back on all that stuff you set up because it’s inconvenient now. The fact it’s done for the sake of some horrible forced ship that abuses Blitz makes it even worse.

Their attempts to dumb down Stella more and more to make her a villain actually just made my Stella sympathy even worse though, ironically. Because by adding Andrealphus they reveal they decided to write Stella as having no property rights. For some fucking reason. I guess marriage for goetia is different? But if Stolas dies it all goes to her Octavia, despite Stella being his wife. That’s how it would have operated for women irl hundreds of years ago and confirms Stella has no property ownership in the marriage (historically also why women couldn’t really vote, as voting has historically been tied to property ownership and married women, everything was automatically owned by their husband). And there’s no way Stella could have just decided to work or do something else because the marriage was arranged since childhood. The arranged marriage favours Stolas and protects him more than her so it’s even worse for her. I wish more people analysed that part and talked about it cuz it’s nuts they wrote that like it’s nothing and makes Stella even more of a bitch or something. If they do some sad arc where Stella’s horrible for expecting to be able to still live somewhere and own a home after the divorce because that’s stealing from poor Stolas and she doesn’t deserve anything at all from him!!!!!1 I will actually fucking scream. Who said it Reddit bros who don’t think women should have divorce rights or Helluva Boss lmao.

The “Why do you stay” (I don’t remember exactly how it goes) lines from Stolas boil my blood because of that too. Like what the fuck do you mean? She’s your wife which according to what we’ve seen, for goetia, means owning nothing and everything going to your husband. She’s not like you Stolas. She can’t just leave like you. She has nowhere to go as far as we know except maybe her brothers but he’s a condescending creep towards her and she still wouldn’t have any control or actually own anything. Also she had Octavia to think about too with moving and leaving. Stolas’ home is Stella’s by just as much, and it’s hers by way less choice than it is Stolas’.

Why in the fuck did they make a cheated on woman with no property rights “just a bitch” the list of reasons Stella has to be rightfully angry is actually crazy. As well as the fact she owns nothing and had no choice in marrying him, she also has Stolas cheating on her in her own fucking bed! He brings other people home and fucks them on the bed she has to sleep next to him in. He is brazen and completely unapologetic about cheating on her right in her face. His lines about finding a hotel, they’re him saying he’s just sorry he got caught, that’s it. They imply he absolutely is going to do it again since his concern is just not getting yelled at for it and he has no shame in telling her that. She also has Stolas reading smut at the dinner table, saying completely inappropriate things in front of their daughter, and him calling her a bitch to Octavia.

Making Stella say she sticks around just to torment Stolas is weak. All this rage and her not wanting him to cheat yet no, she definitely doesn’t love him or care or anything she’s just mean and likes being spiteful. WHAT? She puts so much energy into all the yelling and makes all the spiteful remarks “just because”? Not because she’s hurt instead? There’s not a single thing other than random spite motivating her? It’s shit. You are right anon. All these well explored, humanized morally grey characters and yet the one with a plethora of understandable reasons for being mad isn’t allowed to be mad about any of the actual reasons she has to be. Rather she’s mean just so she can be a yaoi fanfic antagonist opposing the sexy mlm relationship. It’s transparent, childish and it’s boring. Dare I say it’s misogynistic too. It’s atrocious writing plain and simple.

#helluva boss critical #stolas critical #anti stolas #Stolas hate #hb critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #critical stuff

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yongislong · 2 years

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intimate moments + dreamies.

wc: IDKKK GAH genre: fluff/domestic/suggestive?/angst???/established relationships nonidol!dreamies/always self-indulgent lol

cw/note: no cws i dont think! count how many mf times i mentioned studying in this LMAO :| v long, i went overboard EEK enojoy!!!

mark... back rubs. he screams back rubs to me idk. like back rubs but also if you're stressed, he gives such good like upper back and shoulder massages like HELLO. the best part is he doesn't even really know he does it. its like those videos of him fixing hyucks posture, it comes so naturally to him. it almost relaxes him too, to just have you sit on a cushion in the floor in between his calves, while he dangles his legs over the sides of your arms and gives you the most earth shattering shoulder rub you've ever had, he finds comfort in your comfort and lets out all his stresses on your back as well lol. reserved for quiet moments, like usually when you're on the floor studying and he senses you both need a break or you're both watching a movie on the couch and he sets a pillow on the floor and you're already in position bc you've gone through the motions so many times lol. but sometimes he'll just rub your shoulders or neck while you're both just... shopping, cooking, walking, or while mark is waiting for his turn to play while watching chenle shoot a basketball with yangyang. v soft and nice, ur posture and shoulders feel better than ever (even ur lower back like he will dig his knuckles into any place on your back its insane)

renjun... online shopping next to each other. ITS SO... ok hear me out. he's a material girl, therefore converting you into a material girl... its just nice like, using a bit of your hard earned money on nice things is just... nice! you'll sit next to each-other and put on y'all's favorite comfort cartoon and go to town on buying makeup, skincare, a bed for your shared bunny, sweaters, you name it. its like the modern day instances you see in movies where the married couple reads before they go to bed TT. every once in a while he'll start poking your upper thigh asking questions and showing you cute things he finds or maybe you mentioned a problem you had with your skin or something and he's showing you some skincare/makeup products he found that might work for you or just clothes he thinks will look good on you. its cute when you both share a computer as well and just browse together. makes for quality time and helps both of you guys gauge each-others tastes and def helps when planning gift ideas. its funny though how much he would shift positions though LMAO like one second he has his legs straight up in the air resting on the headboard with his phone over his face and next thing you know he's in fetal position or grabbing your ankles to pull your lower half over his thighs to prop his laptop up on your legs haha

jeno... crocheting. LIKE THINK ABOUT IT, this tall, lean man who's 40% veins and 60% just pure muscle LOVES to sit down and make little hats for you and your shared cats and its... like its insane. neither of you guys knew how to do it until you saw videos of people on tiktok making hats and little accessories for their pets, and it inspired you. the next time you go grocery shopping with jen, you sneak away to the craft section and snatch a crochet starter kit. when you bring it back to the cart, he looks at you a little questioningly but you give him a smile and he ruffles your hair and demands you to promise to teach him. now you have a box tucked under your bed filled with small hats you and jeno have made your cats the hats he's made you are in your closet hehe. you do this at least once every two weeks. you sit down and come to a consensus about what to make and you both begin rummaging through the different colored yarn. when jeno's hands get too tired, he's pulling you to lay in between his legs by grabbing the sides of your hips. he doesn't mind sitting in silence but... if you're there... he's so talkative. so much to the point where sometimes you have to stop because he's making you laugh or react so much that your hands are shaking a ton and you keep messing up which only makes you guys laugh even harder TT, picturing him laughing so much he tucks his head into your neck to muffle his sounds or wrapping his arms around your waist tighter every time you tell a good joke... gah

haechan... watching your show. not a show that you're in just a show you share LOL but to me... intimate moments with haechan are a lot more personal and emotional? idk why i think of him that way after you guys have a long talk or even sit in silence for a while and come to a mutual understanding that u both need movie time, the best way to end the night and stop the tears is watching both of ya'll's favorite show. it could be something that came out years ago or something you both wait to air every friday BUT it's just nice! it could also be a movie, but just washing away the bad day, or even ending a good day on a better note, it's a moment where nothing else matters. on his bed, with the biggest white comforter he could find, like 17 plushies, turning the lights off but having the room be lit by the golden hour lamp he has as well as any scattering lava lamps or light up trinkets he has like the heart shaped fairy lights you got him, 3-5 strawberry cake scented candles lit and its just UGHHHH. both of you are both fresh and showered with dewy faces from your skincare, hair and bangs being held up by matching bear headbands he bought. OHH and the show HAS to match the season. scoobydoo mystery incorporated to celebrate october 1st... uhm YEAH! anyways you share his laptop which is covered in stickers he had made of you and his friends or just like random stuff, his wallpaper is you, his profile picture for hbo max is you and his password is your name/his nickname for you as he snakes his arms over you, he lays his head on your chest and drapes one leg over your waist like a koala

jaemin... late night convenience store visits. jaemin seems like a night person! he lives such a quiet life to people that don't know him very well, just walking around being gorgeous and smiling softly to everyone. until he meets you and he feels like he can be himself and is encouraged to by someone other than the dreamies. sure he has the other neos but not everyone knows him like you and jeno do. as friends, you would notice him on social media late at night while you were scrolling as a break from studying. constantly posting aesthetic night pictures of him and his views at the park or random, weird looking snack he sees on his private snapchat story. now, he has you to go with! moments like this are used as breaks from studying or just 2 am cravings for pizza bites. you both talk about nothing or everything in these moments. he has an entire folder dedicated to pictures of you in his phone and almost 80% are in the 7/11 across the street. OHH and one time you went to japan on a study abroad together and he lost his mind because the late night stores there are so good and omg he freaked out about everything and about how pretty you looked under the lights, etc. best two months of his LIFE. now he posts pictures of you in his private story instead. the dreamies lose their minds every time he posts bc oh my gosh, he used to go alone and they were all so worried about him but little did they know he just loves to look around and stuff or sometimes he would just go in hopes that he would catch you bc the store is in the middle of both of yalls apartments and NOWW he has you!!!! and they adore you as well and you bring out the best in jae. ugh :")

chenle...getting ready together. every moment with you, to him, is intimate. but he loves seeing you evolve from the moment you wake up puffy and sleepy, to picking out your outfit, and doing your hair or makeup if you wear it and he loves see you in your element. its such a personal thing to get ready together because, its something that was once done alone, until you found each other and moved in together. playing an any winehouse vinyl and having the crackling noises and music be muffled by his high-pitched laughter when he tries to style your hair and does an awful job or when he tries to help you brush up your eyebrows and makes them into a weird shape like!!!! and oh my god he laughs so loud you would think he was watching the funniest stand up routine in the world like jesus TT you have to remind him through laughs and a hand to his mouth that you do in-fact live in a complex with other people lol. but in all seriousness you are letting him into your personal bubble!!! and aren't even mad/awkward with him because he's touching you like this!!! you trust him this much, especially considering he knows how much you value alone time and personal space or just... even letting anyone see you in your rawest form. ofc he's honored to help you get ready and aids in picking out your outfit for lecture or work if you actually wear the outfit he gets so smug and flirty but he's practically bright red. and vice versa!! he likes propping you up on the bathroom sink and letting you help him trim his brows, put pomade in his hair, put on his moisturizer while he cages your figure by putting his hands on the granite next to your thighs, which encourages you to link your ankles behind his back. TOOTHPASTE KISSES... need i say more!?

jisung... watching him dance. I KNOW OK, basic but i mean come on, he's incredible and its a big part of him yet he's kinda blissfully unaware but also cocky in a way where he will do some insane combo or move and everyone starts freaking out and he's just stops mid dance and looks around like o_0 and is so confused as to why... like he's just... he didn't think it was that big of a deal LMAO. but he started to have so much more assurance in himself especially once he starts inviting you to the studio with him. he begs you to come, it usually doesn't take much persuasion but you were mid task or studying lol and you're like... babe can i finish... and NO RESPONSE he just smirks and shuts your laptop and goes over to you and drapes you over his shoulder or police style drags you out of the room by caging you in with his long ass arms while dragging you out the door. when in the studio its kind of a toss up of what genre he does but he tends to always allocate a certain genre to a certain feeling that plagued him that week. if he's had a hard week, it gets a million times better once he see your eyes full of adoration though the mirror and he stops mid dance giggling and runs over to you and hides his faces in your criss-crossed lap babygirl agenda BUTT if he's had a good week or something positive happened, he LOVES to drag you to the mirror and show you what he's learning. whether you're bad or you dance as often as him, he's always enamored. on more chill days though you justdance battle it out on the giant flat screen tv tucked away in the corner. he reaches over to the nobs on the wall and the music is so loud, but not loud enough to muffle the laughter and thuds of both of you guys falling to the floor from cackling so hard yes his dance teacher is mad lol

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m-jelly · 11 months

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OH MY GOODNESS

The dragon hybrid Levi was sooooo good I read it like 20 times, and I was wondering if you can make one we’re the reader is very pregnant and dragon Levi is soooooo protective, and maybe they would live in a nest or a cave of some sort, and pregnant reader decides to take a bath in the water fall near there nest and some wild animal or men who are like scavengers of something try to kidnap her or eat her and dragon Levi swoops in

I’m so sorry that was sooo much lmao, you don’t have to write I just thought it was a good idea

Just changing this a little bit anon, hope you don't mind.

@ladycheesington <3

Most precious treasures

Levi x fem reader

Hybrid Levi, dragon Levi, pregnant reader, romance, fluff, married, drama, reader is attacked, Levi to the rescue, mentions of blood.

You leave Levi to sleep in your large bed in the castle on the mountain to go to a little shop. Your maid and a knight join you to keep you safe while making the trip to the town, but your carriage is attacked. You try to fight back, but you have to be careful because you're pregnant. When you think it is too late, your husband comes swooping in and saves you.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn

You placed a few loving kisses on Levi's face as he lightly slept in your massive bed. The two of you had explored each other's bodies all night, so Levi was a little tired and so were you but you wanted to go shopping to get him a gift. The deep sleepy growl that came from Levi was electrifying to you.

He lifted his head a little and gazed at you. "My precious gem, good morning."

"Morning."

He reached over and massaged your thigh. "I thought I exhausted you."

You hummed a laugh. "You did, but I have pregnant lady energy."

He kissed your six month belly. "You're incredible."

"Thank you. Anyway, I'm off out now."

He gave you puppy dog eyes. "You're leaving me?"

You slipped out of bed before he dragged you back in. "I'm just going shopping for a bit, that's all. I will take my maid and a knight with me."

He pouted a little. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too."

He reached over and touched your necklace. "Good, you have this still."

You blushed. "Of course."

He nodded and kissed you. "If anything happens, just bite down on this."

"Promise!" You hurried to the door and waved. "Love you!"

"I love you too. I'll keep the bed warm for us."

You blew him a kiss. "Perfect."

The castle was lively with the staff moving around and preparing it for a baby. It was sweet how excited the staff were to welcome a little life into the castle and so they were babyproofing everything. A lot of people were scared of Levi's castle on the mountain, but after you entered his life people softened to him and asked him for help and let him help.

You climbed into your carriage and sat opposite your maid. "What a lovely day. The winter air is crisp and the fog is so light."

Cali, your maid, looked out the carriage with a gentle smile. "It's so lovely."

You rubbed your belly as your baby moved. "Mm."

"Everything okay?"

You nodded. "They're moving a lot." You looked at Cali. "I'll be okay. I think they're just excited." You fell off the seat when something slammed into the carriage. "Ow."

Cali helped you to sit on the floor before leaning out the window. "Sir George?" She gasped when she saw him fighting bandits. "Sir George!"

You grabbed Cali and yanked her inside just as a sword slammed against the window. "Careful!"

The carriage filled with Cali's screams and the smell of blood and mud. Hearts raced as the carriage moved faster down the path until it felt like no one was in control and the horses were just blindly running. A loud thud from boots was heard on the carriage followed by walking and another thud.

The carriage came to a stop and the only thing you could hear was boots moving in mud and your racing heart. With a shaky hand, you reached up and grabbed your necklace. You raised the stone and went to bite down, but the door was yanked open and a bandit with a scar-covered face grinned at you.

The man grabbed you and yanked you out of the carriage as Cali screamed for you. "This one will be worth a lot of money fellas! She's pregnant too." He threw you to the ground. "Seeing the markings on her carriage, it seems she's fucking a dragon man. Her baby is a mix! We're fucking rich!"

You glared at him. "You're all fucked."

He laughed. "What you gonna do? You're weak."

You lifted your necklace and smirked. "My husband will rip you to pieces." You bit down on the stone causing a burst of magic.

The bandit stumbled backwards. "Shit. You stupid bitch!"

You crawled backwards as he stormed towards you. "He'll rip you apart! My husband is the dragon lord Levi Ackerman."

He raised his sword in the air. "You're lying! He would never love another!" His eyes widened when the top of his arm holding the sword dropped to the floor in front of him. He lowered his arm down to see it'd been cut clean off. He held the end near the cut before screaming. "My arm!"

Levi flew past and sliced the bandit's neck clean open. He landed and snarled at the bandits left as blood flowed out of the leader's neck. "My precious gem? Close your eyes for me."

You covered your eyes. "Yes, Levi." You focused on your baby moving in you instead of the screams and cries of your husband killing people. A gentle touch on your hands covering your eyes made you flinch a little, but you then recognised the tough. "Levi."

Levi pulled your hands away and grinned. "Hello, my precious gem. Shall we go home?"

"Yes, please. Are Sir George and Cali okay?"

He cupped your face and kissed you. "Yes, they're okay and I will take them to the castle. I must take you first." He scooped you up into his arms. "Hold on tightly."

You squealed as Levi flew fast to the castle. "So fast."

He flew onto the balcony of your room and carried you inside. He sat you on the bed and kissed your forehead. "I'll be right back, my love."

"Okay." You waited for him to fly off before removing your clothes and climbing into the always full and hot pool bath. "Mm." You scrubbed the dirt, blood and aches away. "Better."

"Love?" Levi hurried around the bedroom. "Loooove?"

"In the bath!"

He raced into the bathroom and sighed. "I was worried."

You leaned on the side of the pool. "Sorry, but I needed to clean. Did you get Cali and Sir George?"

He stripped fully and climbed into the water. "They are here and being tended to." He wrapped his arms around you. "I'm so sorry you were attacked on my lands."

"It's okay." You reached up and gripped his arm. "You can't get rid of all bad people. Plus, I'm sure they were ventured into your land because they heard there were dragons taking lovers here."

He kissed your neck. "Possibly. Our love story is well known."

You hummed a laugh. "It is."

"Are you and the baby safe? Are you both well?"

"Yes." You closed your eyes and relaxed against Levi. "I'm perfectly fine thanks to you." You turned your head. "I love you."

"I love you too." He kissed you and purred against your lips. "I'll always protect you and come running."

You smirked. "You're gonna keep my locked up here for a few days, aren't you?"

He smirked a little. "Maybe."

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doiesfav · 1 year

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✮º:•. Blooming Spring - Jaehyun ||

Pairing: father! Jaehyun x mother! Reader

Plot: Jaehyun is always prepared for any challenge, even if it was sky diving or meeting the president but preparing her daughter's first official day at school was worse than he imagined. Y/n his wife, was on a business trip so of course he had to do it alone.

Genre: Short story, slice of life, fluff, parenthood, established relationship, fiction

A/n: I'm so sorry if this story is a little bit shorter than the others, this was a bit rushed since I'm also preparing a Mark birthday special fic ;) (I hope yall enjoy reading it tho and would appreciate reblog or follow♡♡♡)

wc -> 1,1k

From PARENTHOOD SERIES

MASTERLIST

banners and dividers are self made

Spring is the time of the year when kids are starting school, well, at least in Korea. And there wasn't any exception for Haru, your and Jaehyun's daughter, she is starting her very first day of school tomorrow but there was a problem. You were in a business trip outside and your husband had to take care of it.

Jaehyun told you to not worry, but something inside you wasn't that trusting. He was a great dad and loved her a lot so why it would be that difficult. Haru on the other side, was naughty, disobedient, and those things. Where she could have gotten that personality? Well from you, of course, although you have now matured. When Jaehyun and you met, you two were still in high school having the same age so that was like 12 years ago maybe but didn't start dating until 18 years old, he always thought you were extremely extroverted, and maybe all your charisma was something he is attracted to. All your friends around never thought of you two having such a long relationship and now you guys are married and have a kid.

''Daddy, when is mommy coming home?'' She asked her father who was helping her take a bath for her first day at school, ''Do you miss her a lot baby?'' she nodded, bubble bath time was her favorite thing. After a long day of playing and getting dirty, it was like her spa time, ''Will you stay with me at school?'' She asked again, ''Well, there will be teachers who can help you, daddy won't be with you'' Oh he shouldn't have said that. Haru when she heard the words her father said started making her cry out loud, she was very clingy and it was very hard to make her stop crying. The dad tried to calm her by telling her she'll be alright but it was too late, Haru then started to splash the water out of anger, and it made Jaehyun's clothes get wet. He didn't know what to do anymore so he ran to get his phone and facetime you hoping that you were out of the plane already, luckily you were in the hotel so it was good.

''Heyy, what's going on there honey?'' You asked because of your daughter's screams and cries. ''Can you try to relax her, I just said that she would be alone tomorrow at school'' It was very obvious your husband didn't even know how this ended up, he thought he would have everything in control even if you weren't. He carefully put the phone in front of his daughter trying to not make contact with the water, ''Mommy, daddy won't be with me tomorrow he's a bad person'' She said while shedding tears, ''Hey baby, do you know why he won't be with you?'' Haru shook her head and relaxed a little more than she was. ''do you have fun with Aeyoung? (A/n: not my own multiverse here LMAO) If you do that's because you two are friends and when you are there you have to learn how to make more friends''.

''But I don't know how to'' She stopped crying trying to understand what it meant, ''That's why the teachers will be there not us, the teachers are professionals'' Haru wasn't crying anymore but it was obvious how much she did because of the swelling eyes and red cheeks. Jaehyun finished washing her and dried her, while he was blow drying his daughter's hair she asked something. ''Dad, I don't think I want to go tomorrow'' she said after sobbing for a while because her father didn't notice before. He was already exhausted because it was his wife that usually took care of Haru's bath time, every time he closed his eyes he swears he would fall asleep immediately.

''But you have to, okay baby?'' And Haru nodded. After Jaehyun put her in bed and kissed her forehead he went to the master room and lay on the bed aggressively and without even noticing he fell asleep forgetting to put an alarm...

Jaehyun woke up with someone calling him, it was you and why would you call him it was probably 1AM for you. His morning voice answered lazily ''Hello?'' he said with his eyes still closed as he was processing everything. ''Hey, Jeong Jaehyun!! Why aren't you sending Haru to school?'' Then he opened his eyes, his daughter's first day at school. Jaehyun never ran so fast to her room, ''Haru, wake up, quickly'' he said but saw that there wasn't anyone in the room he ran to all the places and when he reached the bathroom there was she, Haru was brushing he teeth, but her clothes and hair were still the same. ''Let me do your hair meanwhile okay?'' she nodded, Jaehyun hurried up with the process so it wasn't the best looking hair he could do. After it he told her to change up while he cooks breakfast, then he remembered that there wasn't anything in the fridge, that's right, they didn't do the groceries.

Not knowing what to do he just took out some leftover curry from yesterday's dinner and heated it up in the microwave, it wasn't the best breakfast but at least it feeds someone. Haru went to the kitchen wondering what would she be eating, it was curry, she wasn't the type of person who is eating the same thing over again so she wasn't that excited. ''Is that breakfast?'' ''Yes baby now eat or we will be later than we are'' She didn't have any options and just eat it, meanwhile, Jaehyun went to change his clothes, brushed his teeth and washed his face. When he went to check on Haru she was already waiting to leave, ''Let's go'' It was 8:20AM and school started 20 minutes ago, Jaehyun carried his daughter in his arms and ran carefully but quickly towards the school which was 8 minutes from their house.

Haru was having a lot of fun in his dad's arms, on the other hand, Jaehyun was kinda struggling. When finally arrived he quickly went inside if there was any teacher nearby to take Haru to her classroom, and luckily there was. ''excuse me are you Mr. Jeong?'' ''Oh yes, yes sorry if we are a bit late'' he put Haru down so the teacher could take her. ''I mean you were half an hour late but don't worry, say goodbye to your daddy'' the teacher made Haru wave her hand to Jaehyun. After he left the building it was as if his mission was complete, the very first day wasn't what he expected after all.

Ayeyeyeyey another one completed, only jungwoo left hahsh. Anyways thanks for the support yall and sorry if i keep changing dates😭

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austinswh0re · 2 years

Text

Confidential.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Wife!reader

Warnings: Smut!!! so please if you’re not into that do not continue reading!, fluff, Angry Chris?

This is my first time posting any sort of writing on here so please don’t come for me💀 I’m hoping this comes out as well as it is in my head lmao. Enjoy! Also! i’m aware Endgame did not come out in 2021, im switching up the timeline a little bit lol

Y/n gets ask a question she had been preparing to answer, but when it gets asked she doesn’t know how to feel about it. Chris keeps in everything he wants to say until later that night.

(The gif is making me scream)

…………………………………………

Press conferences. I always had a love hate relationship with them. I loved answering questions and being with all my friends at once but what i didn’t enjoy so much were the extremely personal questions. Such as mine and Chris’ private life.

Chris and I got engaged late 2020, we planned our wedding for July 2021, we wanted a summer wedding, getting engaged in December didn’t really give us much time to plan, but one thing we knew for sure was that we would not wait a whole year before we were married. It was a small wedding, we got married on the beach with all our closest friends and family. We went on our dream honeymoon to Hawaii, and once we came home it was time for a premier.

Filming Endgame was definitely filled with tons of emotion. It was mine a his last Marvel movie together and everyone was aware of this. After we had filmed the last scene tears were shed from almost the entire cast and crew. We still had the premiere, which I will forever be grateful for. We hadn’t posted that we had gotten married on any social media platform, well up until the night I posted a photo of us and my username had changed. I didn’t think much of it considering us being engaged was very much public, but many people were still shocked by the name change.

y/nEvans

“your favorite couple has arrived:) So extremely proud of this guy right here, I love you infinitely.”

1,234,536 likes

ChrisEvans: Thank you honey, I love you more than you know❤️

robertdowneyjr: Love these two!!

tomholland2013: I think you guys come in a close second to me and z

Y/nEvans: replying to tomholland2013: yeah yeah

user1256: sobbing. her username is y/nEvans.

user1437: Shut up. I cant do this rn. im so happy for them🥹

^^^^^^ the post in question*

We also had the press conference which gave me a few extra days with the people i love the most. We both knew the risk of having personal questions asked was high but that didn’t make it any less jarring.

Upon our arrival to the hotel we had been informed that we only had one bed in our room, which considering we were married wasn’t an issue. Although everyone else wasn’t to happy about this.

“Chris, can you come here please?” I called out from the bathroom slightly out of breath from struggling to zip my dress. “What’s up?” he said as he made his way through the door. “Could you please help me zip this dress, i can only get it halfway” “yeah of course baby”

He slipped behind me and slowly began zipping up the dress. Once he had finally zipped it all the way up he slid his hands around my hips and kissed the exposed skin on my shoulder and neck. “Chris we don’t have ti-“ “shh, I know, just trying to make a mental note of what’s happening when we get back” as if I hadn’t been turned on enough by the way his hands were roaming my body, the heat pooling in my underwear just grew more and more as he stood behind me and stared at us in the mirror.

Once we finally broke apart from each other and left the room, we made our way out to the limousine where many of our friends were sat waiting for us. “took you two long enough” Robert said as Chris climed and shut the door behind him. small talk was made amongst the group during the short ride to the event. The dress I was wearing was beautiful, and matched the green felt pants Chris had on

I had went for a felt dress as well, just so the colors would be a closer match.

Halfway there, Chris tapped on my thigh and pointed towards my phone. When i picked it up, I saw multiple messages from Chris all displaying the plans he had made for later that night.

“The way your body looks in that dress is making it hard for me to not take you right here in this car”

“you’re in for it when we get back, I can’t wait to taste you, hear those sweet noises you always make for me”

My eyes widened as I quickly turn the brightness down hoping no one was nosey enough to read the text. I shoot Chris a glare, one that says “seriously?” and he responds with his signature smirk.

Finally, after what had felt like forever, we arrived to the conference, the second we stepped out of the car Chris grabbed my hand and gave it a light squeeze, reassuring me it’s okay. This wasn’t my first, but I still have quite a bit of nerves every time. We make our way into the building after tons of pictures and quick “i love you” glances to one another. We both took our seats, which luckily were right beside each other. Eventually the question began and the small pool of anxiety grew.

“This next one is for y/n, we heard you two got married, congratulations!” I slightly adjusted in my chair and crossed my legs towards Chris before replying “yes, we did, thank you!” “Of course, now this may be some what personal-“ great. I glanced at Chris and could tell he was focused on the person asking and he didn’t look to happy about it. “So many people have been wondering, how is he in bed? We’re sure he’s fantastic but we want to hear it from the one who gets to experience it.” There it was. The dreaded question of how he was in bed. Although he was fantastic and you thoroughly enjoyed sex with Chris, it wasn’t something you cared to share with the public.

“well, listen I don’t want to come off as rude by saying this but i’m not sure that’s really any of yours, or anyone else’s business besides ours.” Chris was furious, his eyes had slightly darkened and his jaw was clenched keeping him from losing his mind. “Can we please move on?” my voice came out slightly smaller than I had wanted but at the moment I felt uncomfortable and upset.

Chris on the other hand was pissed. He hated how uncomfortable the question made you feel and wanted to beat the shit out of the man who asked it. Instead, he looked at you with a sympathetic look and you responded by mouthing “it’s okay”, because you knew if you didn’t, Chris would kill this guy.

Once everyone had asked their questions, and many laughs had been shared, the group made their way back to the hotel. Chris and you were the first people out of the car and after sharing your goodbyes, he grabbed you by the hand and the two of you stormed up to your room. Before a word could be spoken between you and him he had you pinned against the door. His lips were on yours in seconds. The kiss was hot and sloppy, but you didn’t care at all. “Chris” you breathlessly moaned his name out. he responded with a hmm and continued to work his lips against yours.

He pulled away, his lips red, puffy, and stained with your lipstick. “We need to get this thing off if you” was the first words he said, spinning you around and unzipping the dress painfully slow. “Could you go any slower?” you questioned, usually you would be patient, but on this specific night you were extremely horny and needed him more than ever. “If you keep having that attitude i’ll go even slower” once the dress was off of you, Chris picked you up bridal style and dropped you on the bed. “You are the only woman who gets to know how I am in bed, fuck everyone else” he began kissing down your body. He pulled you up slightly, bringing his hands up the clasp of your bra and undoing it. His hands began to grasp and squeeze every part of you that was exposed.

“Chris please” you begged, your tone was needy but you didn’t care. “please what sweetheart?” He teased, “I need you” “what do you need? use your words” he continued to tease you through your underwear. “Fuck Chris just fuck me already” That was all he needed to hear. He quickly undid his belt and dropped him pants and his boxers, exposing his hard dick, already leaking with precum. He pulled down your panties taking in the sight of you. “you’re so beautiful, and all mine” he said as he stroked himself a few times. He parted your legs and began to tease your entrance with his tip. “Chris, I swear if you don’t-“ he leaned down and kissed your lips, hard and rough as he slid into you. both of you moaning into each others mouths. “that’s it, good girl” he grunted as he stared to slowly move in and out of you “Please, faster” you moaned making him fasten his movements. The noises coming from the two of you were all you could hear, and you were sure everyone else on the floor could hear it too. “oh my god Chris” “Oh fuck i’m close baby” He grunted in your ear “you’re taking my cock so well, taking all of me, fuck you’re so tight” That only made you squeeze around him, moaning his name as if it was the only word you knew. “Chris please don’t stop, i’m so close” you moaned “cum for me, come on baby” he said as he slid his hand between the two of you and began rubbing circles on your clit. “This. This is confidential. No one gets to know what I do to you” “oh yeah, that’s it sweet girl, cum for me i know you want to” was all he said and it sent you over the edge. You were a moaning screaming mess as you and him finished at the same time. His body rolling off of yours as you both steady your breathing

“That was , that was amazing” you breathed out turning over to look at him “only the best for you my love. I love you” He said pulling you into him “I love you more” was the last thing you said before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

#chris evans #marvel #chris evans smut

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thosewickedlovelies · 1 year

Text

Messenger Bird | Oberyn Martell x afab!Reader x Ellaria Sand

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: Your flight path finally brings you to the bedchamber of the Prince of Dorne

Tags: SMUT: oral (f recieving), unprotected PiV sex, mention of bondage; Ellaria is in bed with yous but I wouldn’t necessarily call this a threesome; reader vaguely describes themself as being less experienced than Oberyn but I don’t think that should exclude many people lol

Word count: 5,991

Note: This fic is inspired solely by a scene in @radiowallet‘s fabulous Oberyn fic, to which I responded "10/10 would be the person who ends up in bed with Oberyn because he answers the door with his dick out 🤷🏻‍♀️”

This is like, a roughly canon au where Oberyn and Ellaria are married and the regents of Dorne. It's also mostly PWP, so. enjoy lmao <3

Masterlist

“There are few good reasons to be disturbing a prince this early-”

The door opens-

“-but there is one reason I am generally inclined to forgive.”

-and the first thing you see is Prince Oberyn’s hand, wrapped around his cock.

You gape, stupefied. Though cast in bronze, not iron, the wholly naked body of the Prince of Dorne seizes your attention like a magnet. All of your good sense screams at you to avert your gaze, but how can you?

His hand, and the length it grips, are both shiny, smudged with damp. Is it the same fluid beading at the tip of his cock?

Or has it a different source? In the background you hear sheets rustling, and a familiar feminine voice drawling.

“Oberyn darling, you know what your advisors say about answering the door in your skin.”

The prince’s eyes had widened infinitesimally upon seeing you, surprise and delight flaring for a split second. That hand moved- up and down, ever so slightly. The faintest motion, just enough to convey that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Something secretive sparkled in Oberyn’s eyes, just barely curled the corners of his full mouth. “What my advisors say, and what our little raven’s face says are two very different things, my love.”

“Oh?”

You wrench your gaze back up to Oberyn’s face, eyes wide. Heat prickles and swarms over your skin. Your tongue has dried up in your mouth, leaving you quite unable to address Princess Ellaria even had you retained the wits to.

“What are you doing up so early, my little messenger bird? Surely there cannot be any urgent demands of me with the day barely dawned?”

Emboldened, Oberyn leans more comfortably against the door frame, titling his head as he awaits your response. He continues to tug on his cock, an almost idle motion- except his pace is decidedly deliberate. His dark eyes gleam.

Oh, gods, what could you say? That you’d been driven mad by your own need? That there was an itch under your skin which nothing could satisfy, one that had only grown stronger since the bloom of summer and the carelessly revealing fashions Dorne and its prince preferred?

The truth was that you’d barely finished your tea this morn, anticipating that indeed, there should be no important messages for the prince this early, when the Maester’s bark had startled you to wakefulness. Now the small scroll he’d given you was all but crushed in your fist, and doubtless sweat-stained besides.

Mutely, you lift your hand. Small mercies- the tiny seal closing the parchment hadn’t cracked in your grip.

Oberyn measures you for another long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Scoffing, he takes the scroll from you, releasing his cock with clear displeasure.

A faint breeze blows past you through the open door. It carries the distant murmur of waves crashing, and the ever-present scents of salt and oleander. Silk hangings above the bed sway, glimmering in the rich, fiery colors of the Martell family, tassels fluttering.

Oberyn’s fingers are still wet. They leave fingerprint smudges where he adjusts his grip on the paper. His cock bobs with the faint shifting of his body, his eyes narrowing as he reads. Taking advantage of his distraction, you risk a longer look at the utterly bare body of Oberyn Martell.

Stripped of his usual flowing robes, the prince somehow appears taller. Every part of him is long and lean, rangy muscles stretched along his shapely frame. Despite his frequent act as the long-suffering hedonist forced to rule, there is a sharp intelligence about him- a calculating mind turning beneath hair often mussed by sleep, sex, or spearwork.

His cock is as long and sturdy as he is. As bronze, too. A trim thatch of hair curls neatly around the base, climbing up and stopping teasingly short of his navel. You wonder if the prince sunbathes nude, to achieve such uniformly sun-dipped skin. The moisture coating the hair and skin of his groin shimmers and winks, scattering your thoughts, and you swallow thickly.

You look up again, but you’d lingered too long- Oberyn is watching you already, his mouth curved up the slightest bit.

He drops the parchment carelessly to the floor. “Tell me true, now, messenger bird. It is only unfortunate happenstance that has kept us from meeting in my bedchamber before now, yes?”

If before there was mischief in his eyes, now it is tempered by a clear, hard demand for truth. Of all the whispers throughout the palace of the prince’s exploits, one unquestionable feature was always present: Oberyn didn’t take unwilling lovers. One entered his bed out of desire, not obligation.

You allow your professional façade to thaw, shaking yourself free of the shock and focusing on the other feelings that the prince always inspired. Delight. Desire. Hunger.

“Yes, my prince.” You dip your head coyly, lashes fluttering.

Oberyn’s smile is that of one who has just learned his long-laid plans have come to fruition- and he intends to savor the results.

“Would you like to come in now? I hope you will not mind my wife’s presence- it is the princess’s bed too, you understand.”

Oberyn steps back in invitation, opening the door wider for you. That hardness has not completely left his eyes- there is flint to it, an almost-challenge sparking.

But your attention is no longer on the prince.

His movement has revealed the princess, still abed behind him. Ellaria has turned on her side toward the door, supported by a cushion pulled to her chest. The fact that it covers the delicate parts of her otherwise bare torso is plainly more by accident than design- the outer curve of her right breast is clearly visible, tan skin an obvious contrast against the orchid-purple silk of the pillow. Her slim frame is barely a ripple in the sheets of the enormous bed, yet her presence commands- no eye could resist her allure. Your lips part.

Ellaria smiles lazily, hooded eyes shimmering with laughter at the knowledge between you.

“I can think of little I would mind less, my lord.” Ellaria’s reaction warms you, inspires a bit more confidence, and you manage to stand a little straighter as you enter the room.

Oberyn glances between you and his wife. “Have I missed something?” he inquires.

The door closes, and then you’re aware of Oberyn behind you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from all of his bare flesh.

Your mouth goes dry again. If Ellaria was the encouraging warmth of an arm around the shoulders, Oberyn was heat- mercurial as a desert wind. A temperature vacillating on the cusp of dangerous.

Thankfully, Ellaria seems immune to Oberyn’s effect. “I’m afraid our sweet messenger bird made a rather…special delivery to me last week, while you were otherwise occupied, my prince.”

“My heart! You did not tell me?” You can feel Oberyn puffing up behind you, his tone full of indignance.

The princess presses her lips together, clearly stifling amusement. “It was entirely too brief an affair, in honesty. Everything was busy during that period- it must have simply slipped my mind. Truly, I’m sorry, my love.” Her dark eyes shine, but the apology is sincere. Sweet and simple as sugared almonds.

“Hmmm.” Oberyn’s considering hum rumbles through you, like the purr of a great cat. “This morn is my turn, then. After that we will be even.”

You jump at the brush of his hands on your waist. The prince was out of sight behind your back, and his touch was a surprise that sent gooseflesh rippling over you.

“How does that sound, sweet bird? Will you let me ravish you like such a one as lovely as you deserves to be ravished? Will you share a morning of pleasure with your prince?” Oberyn lowers his voice to a deep rasp in your ear; he toys with the raven-black sash of your messenger’s uniform, but does not loosen it.

Your body tightens and warms from top to toe. Ellaria has not taken her eyes off you; her gaze scorches like a fresh coal in a warming pan.

“I would be honored, my prince.”

It would be a lie to say you weren’t nervous. There were rumors, of course, of the prince’s inclinations in the bedchamber. If nothing else, his experience far surpassed your own; he liked things to go his way, but this, at least, would suit you fine.

Finally, Oberyn pulls free the tie of your sash. He draws it off your shoulders, but then, still holding it, comes to stand in front of you. The gather of fabric is just enough to block your view of his sex.

“You must promise me one thing, Bird. You will tell me, if we veer too close to anything you do not want. Any activity, any place on that lovely body. I do not force things on my companions.

“I am a man of many desires, but among them will never be thus. I am your prince, not your master.” Oberyn holds your gaze.

A fragment of uncertainty still holding tight in your chest dissipates. “I understand. I promise, my prince.”

Those obsidian eyes soften slightly. “You may use my name.”

You hesitate. Even your fantasies had not dared to dream of such familiarities. “I promise…Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn smiles then, a wide, pleased expression. He tosses your sash to the side, revealing his cock still proud and alert. He moves closer, and you’re reminded of the great cats that stalk the mountains in the north of Dorne- all sleek, bunching muscles and a singular focus on the object of their hunt. In this moment, you suppose that would make you the prey. It’s a dizzying, thrilling thought: that the prince of Dorne, the Viper himself, seeks you.

As his hands seek your jaw now, sliding along your skin with the slowness of one who knows well the effect his touch has. Oberyn cradles your face in his hands, lifting your chin, your mouth- a cup from which he intends to drink deep. His breath brushes your lips, syrupy with the taste of wine.

Oberyn’s dark eyes bore into your face. “Sweet bird,” he murmurs. His rasp is the last thing you hear before his mouth touches yours, and then your head fills with wind. Blood rushing and roaring in your ears, blotting out all other sensation but Oberyn’s mouth, full and soft and confident, urging you to follow his motions, guiding you into his world of sensual wonder.

And you follow willingly. You part your lips to the prince’s tongue, and relish the confidence with which he slips inside, weaving layers of sensation into the kiss.

Oberyn still holds your face to his. His hands span the entire length of your jaw, and they are not idle: his fingertips stroke and massage in small motions, sending tingles down your neck, pleasure rippling through you like wind through tall grass. You become aware, suddenly, of Oberyn’s body- it’s easing gradually closer to your own, the entire burning mass of it sending heat through your clothes, like leaning against the chimney of a great hearthfire. You inhale sharply.

The prince withdraws from your kiss. He studies your wide, dreamstruck eyes, your lips, now appropriately kiss-swollen. Smirking, he looks to Ellaria for approval. His wife’s gaze travels down your body.

“I didn’t get to see her last time.” The princess pouts. “Undress her for me, darling?”

“Anything for you, my love.”

Oberyn returns his attention to you. “Yes?” His hands skate meaningfully down your back, to the laces of your dress.

“Yes,” you answer, and his hands are already working. “-to both.”

Oberyn laughs once, loud and bright with surprise. “Careful, sweet bird, or I will think you are here only to steal my wife from me.”

Ellaria’s eyes sparkle. “Sweet words from a sweet bird, indeed.” She shifts to lie more comfortably, relocating her long fall of curls with the sweep of a practiced hand. The cushion is carelessly adjusted, and then her right breast is fully visible, as pert and lovely as you only briefly glimpsed during your meeting.

Ellaria faintly smirks at your expression, but a moment later you are both distracted. Your gown sags in the familiar shapelessness of undone laces, and Oberyn is quick to take advantage. He traces the exposed skin up your spine, and you arch at his touch, your lungs filling. You move to help him remove the gown, but he stops you.

“Slowly, now,” Oberyn whispers in your ear. “Give the princess something to long for.”

He draws your dress slowly down your shoulders, and you mark the speed. As slow and languorous as a drizzle of honey pools on a cake. Your heart beats fast. You have never made a performance of undressing for a lover- surely the lovemaking itself ought to be the show?

But as you grip the bodice of your dress, lowering it with exaggerated slowness, pulling the fabric tight to emphasize your breasts about to spill free- you think you understand. Ellaria’s gaze rivets to your chest, growing hungrier the longer you and Oberyn take to bare you. What is a main act, after all, without the opening scenes?

Your own hunger rises as you witness Ellaria’s. You finally lower the gown to bare your breasts entirely, but Oberyn’s hands immediately cover them. You gasp. His movement was unexpected…and very distracting. A small sound of pleasure breaks from you as the prince’s callused hands massage the tender flesh in a way that feels entirely deliberate. Knowledgeable. Like he knows exactly what this will do- this squeeze, this twist of your nipple, this-

“Keep going,” Oberyn purrs.

-this command, given in his sensual rasp.

Between the prince at your back and the princess to your front, you have nowhere to hide. No way to. Everywhere you are confronted with something that stokes the flame of desire steadily growing within you.

Oberyn had told you to keep going. One by one, you free your arms from their sleeves, letting the morning sun play on your skin, the sea breeze raise the fine hairs. The prince’s hands continue to massage your breasts, exploring every dip and curve of your torso as your gown drops further. Finally it’s at your hips, and without any extra encouragement you push it down to pool around your feet.

Wearing nothing but the morning light, you stand before the regents of Dorne.

Or you try to- Oberyn has molded himself to your back, mouthing at your neck, and suddenly your knees struggle to hold you upright.

Any self-consciousness you thought you’d feel fades away as you turn in Oberyn’s arms to kiss him, and are welcomed eagerly. The prince rewards your initiative with an approving groan, hauling you to him, encouraging you to get as close as you wish. Every inch of him is firm with muscle, standing sturdy against your desperate grasping. You can’t decide what to reach for first- you want to touch all of him.

Especially the burning length trapped between your hips. You reach for it, and Oberyn lets out another low sound of pleasure, breaking your kiss as you tip your head down to watch yourself touch him.

Oberyn wraps his hand around yours, stilling your motions. “Patience, Bird.” His eyes dance, warm and amused. “We have plenty of time. I think the princess is getting lonely, yes?”

He herds you gently toward the bed, where Ellaria is indeed waiting, with something like envy on her face.

What could she possibly have to be envious of? The princess had no reason to suffer such an emotion. She could end this, remove you from her husband’s arms, with but a word.

What you don’t see, as Oberyn's handful of your rear interferes with your tentative climb into the bed, is that Ellaria’s gaze is not on the prince, but on you.

Your elbows buckle and you squeak.

“Hurry up, or I will assume you wish to be kept in this position,” Oberyn growls from behind you- from over you. He has clambered over your back, draping himself over you and planting his hands on your wrists.

His tone is light with jest, but you have no doubt he means it. This is a common theme in many of the oft-whispered stories- if the prince and princess like someone enough, they might keep them a whole day, or night, or any length of time, really. For their use and pleasure alone. Even restrained, if the guest wishes- and from what you’ve heard, enough have wished it to make you wonder.

The thought makes you shiver. As does Oberyn’s grip, dragging your hands gently upward, forcing your face and chest flat against the silk sheets. Your breathing quickens. Oberyn’s hips press into your rear, his cock rubbing between your cheeks, and with your knees spread the way they are, you can feel the wetness of your own arousal smeared cool against your inner thighs.

Heat flares in your cheeks. Is Oberyn going to fuck you already?

“Mmm,” he rumbles into your neck. “That is very tempting, but I shall take my own advice, I think. Patience.”

And Oberyn demonstrates a great store of patience, indeed. You lie, belly down in slippery silk, for an immeasurable length of time as the prince drags his mouth along every inch of your skin. You squirm and pant and moan under the delicious assault, fresh slick welling when he lingers where your thighs meet. His weight lifts off you as Oberyn finally descends, imprinting new damp patches down your left leg.

You take the opportunity to shift, half turning on your side toward Ellaria. She’s watching you, eyes slumberous and knowing. Her fingers trace light paths across your arms and chest- the first time she’s touched so much of your bare skin.

“Will you bring us songs as well as messages in the future, sweet bird? You sound so lovely when you sing.”

“If the prince and princess wish it,” you answer honestly.

You yelp as Oberyn switches legs, nipping your right ankle. Your flinch draws Ellaria’s attention to your chest. Her hand moves lower, boldly caressing the supple, sensitive flesh, all the while watching your face. She thumbs your nipple experimentally, and you bite your lip. She pinches it, and you gasp, the touch zinging straight to your core.

This time your motion twitches your thigh away from Oberyn’s mouth. With a growl, he crawls back up the bed, shoving himself unceremoniously between you and Ellaria.

“You have already had your fun, my love.” The prince falls atop his wife, his teeth at her neck. “Do not make me restrain you this morn.”

He swallows the princess’s giggles with a shamelessly wanton, thorough kiss.

“That would be a terrible torture, indeed.” Ellaria is finally able to agree, teasingly, breathlessly. “Very well, my love. I shall not interrupt your designs.”

Oberyn kisses her again, quick and soft. Resting his forehead against hers, he turns his head to you. “Perhaps after I am through with her, you can give me a reenactment of your meeting.”

His eyes gleam wickedly as he looks at you while addressing his wife.

They are both impossibly beautiful. Inky hair and rich coloring- the very sun yearns to embrace them, its golden arms reaching across the bed. They appear all the more unearthly when gilded with its light; untouchable as muses, models which sculptors might strive their whole lives to do justice.

But they are as physical as you. The illusion is broken when Oberyn again slides his body across yours, pleasure striking like sparks over your skin.

“Come, sweet one. I wish for my messenger bird to perch upon my face.”

Oberyn wants you to…sit on his face? Why?

The prince stretches out on your other side. You sit up, wanting to oblige him but unsure of his intent. You don’t understand until Oberyn reaches for your sex, stroking lightly in a beckoning gesture. He growls in satisfaction at the slickness that readily coats his fingers.

Oberyn reads the hesitation in your face. “You have not done this before.”

“No, my prince. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. It is an honor to teach new pleasures to the subjects in my care.”

The sheets rustle as Ellaria strokes your thigh comfortingly. “Oberyn had much to teach me, as well, when I first came to his bed. You will like this,” she assures you.

Oberyn makes no objection to his wife’s touch this time. “What is going to happen is you, lovely bird, are going to sit that shapely bottom here-” he pats his chest “-which will allow me to taste your sweetness directly from the source.” He dips the tips of those beckoning fingers into your cunt, leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

You are stunned all over again. Although this time some of your bemusement is surely due to the way the prince’s thumb joins his fingers, pressing at the bud of your sex even while his fingers continue to rub at something divine inside you.

You arch and whimper. “Prince Oberyn-!”

He chuckles, a pleased, approving sound. “That’s right, sweet bird. Come, take your perch and sing.”

The prince tugs and maneuvers you just so, arranging you above his mouth. His fingers are wet on your thigh.

His mouth is wetter. You moan, high and long and helpless, when Oberyn’s mouth engulfs your sex. Past lovers have done this for you (albeit in more traditional positions), but Oberyn has clearly received a prince’s education even in the carnal arts. Slippery heat and suction, concentrated pressure and indiscriminate lapping- somehow he knows precisely what to do and where, and when, and for how long-

“Ah~!” you cry out again as pleasure rushes up all too suddenly, pressure about to burst like a geyser. You squirm and try to lift away from Oberyn, but his arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you firmly in place. Surely it would be rude to climax before the prince?

Ellaria’s grip above your knee has tightened. In your parted lips, your heaving chest, she reads the signs.

“Take your pleasure, sweet bird.” Her eyes are now wide, rather than sleepy. “You needn’t wait to reach your peak.”

Her intent gaze is all the permission you need- as is Oberyn’s tongue, twisting relentlessly at your clit. Your uncertainty snaps at his wordless demand. Pleasure floods your system, climax shuddering through every muscle, everything pulling abruptly tight before releasing

The onslaught of bliss gradually recedes. Accompanying the very last of it is a long, deep sigh- a confirmation of relief if there ever was one. Your thighs tremble suddenly, after holding tense for so long. Your hands fall to Oberyn’s head to support yourself, fingers instinctively stroking through the short, bristly strands of his hair.

The prince tips his head back into your caress, revealing his mouth and chin shiny with your release. His eyes glint with satisfaction.

“Was that as sweet for you as it was for me, Songbird?”

“I daresay it was, my prince.” You are breathless and overcome with the sudden urge to giggle.

You begin to ease off of Oberyn, your limbs clumsy as if affected by the same buzzing that fills your head. It’s a giddy, bubbling sensation; it reminds you of a party the palace hosted, not long ago. You don’t remember the reason, now. Only that the prince had used it as an excuse to share a marvelous new kind of wine he’d discovered on his travels- a sweet, white vintage which fizzed, in which bubbles rose endlessly, seemingly without source or cause. It sparkled in mouths and in spirits all night long. He’d invited all the palace staff to the celebration, to try this magical wine, and had caught your eye that night. Your spirit lifted by the bubbles, you’d smiled at Oberyn.

Nothing came of it that night, of course. But now, with your body loose as if that wine were still fizzing in your veins…you cannot find it in you to feel disappointed.

Oberyn takes a second to ensure that you are again lying snugly between him and Ellaria. Then he leans over you entirely, his mouth still shiny, and Ellaria sits up slightly to meet him. She moans at the taste of you in his kiss.

Oberyn’s manhood presses into your thigh. It is insistently hard, a ruddy flush to it now, and leaking freely. The fluid smears onto your skin. Eyes wide, you are entranced by the prince and princess all over again.

The ends of Ellaria’s raven curls brush your arm, soft and sweet-smelling. Following them upward, your eye catches on a necklace encircling her throat. A slender gold chain rests atop her collarbone. From it dangles small stones, their polished surfaces catching the light in shades suggesting a sunrise: pink, lavender, topaz. It seems to glimmer with a light all its own, the chain links shifting and tinkling as Ellaria moves.

“Perhaps you will have to try our topsy-turvy position with her as well, my love.” Oberyn murmurs against Ellaria’s lips, and you’d swear her cheeks colored the slightest tinge.

Turning his head, the prince notices what has caught your attention.

“Do you like her necklace, sweet bird?”

Oberyn shifts his body over yours as he speaks. Distracted by his words, you almost don’t notice the prince’s body sinking between your legs- until you feel a cool brush of air where there hadn’t been, and something rigid, long, and hot settle at the seam of your cunt. You draw a startled breath.

“I like how it sparkles and chimes when I fuck her, “ Oberyn croons in your ear. His tongue flickers at your neck, every inch the viper; the sensation crackles down your spine like a whip-strike of fresh pleasure. “Shall we find one for you?”

Your mouth hangs open, but no air or sound passes in either direction. Perhaps there are too many sounds you could make, and not enough air in the room; all you can do is stare.

Taking your shock as assent, Oberyn directs Ellaria to pick something for you. “We keep a jewelry box by the bed for this very purpose.” The prince smirks.

Ellaria stretches toward the nightstand at Oberyn’s bid, the sheets slithering down her back. She could be a sea-nymph, reaching out from a pool of gold, the silk glimmering like water around her. It is a mesmerizing sight: Ellaria’s long back, a slim braid of muscles flickering as she rummages in a drawer. Her arm arcs upward suddenly, triumphant, and when she turns back the silk slips lower still, and you glimpse what you had only felt between her legs that day…

Ellaria dangles her prize before your face. A short chain of gold like hers, but from which hang smaller stones like clusters of grapes, winking in the light. You can’t imagine wearing something so fine- but then, you couldn’t imagine being welcomed into the prince and princess’s bed before this morning, either. Being adored and adorned by two such breathtaking individuals at once.

“Perfect.” Oberyn’s declaration is hushed and reverent. “This will shine like stars against your skin.”

“Put it on,” he orders. Then he nearly whispers, “Let us get you ready for me, songbird.”

In his tone is a wicked desire that you realize had been banked, before now. But now- as he pins your legs open with his own body, with his own hand- you sense there is no stopping it.

Oberyn slips two fingers into you, the first rush of the flood he had thus far contained. You gasp, thighs spasming. But Oberyn had drawn from you a flood of your own earlier, and there was no pain, only sudden recognition of an ache- a hunger for more than just the prince’s fingers.

Ellaria drags the end of the necklace over your chest. The metal scrapes gently over your nipples, a startling but not unpleasant sensation, and you squirm at the onslaught of stimulation- Oberyn’s fingers filling you, Ellaria’s fingers brushing your throat- and finally, the close-fitting chain clasping snugly around your neck.

You swallow, and feel the resistance of the unyielding metal against the bob of your throat. Oberyn watches you intently, hungrily. His fingers still move inside you, experimenting with one motion, then another, tracking your reaction to each one. You hitch your thighs open wider as sensations compete for your attention. You tip your head back, exposing your now-bejeweled throat to Oberyn.

“Do I sparkle enough for you, my prince?”

One corner of his mouth curls up, but it’s an almost mocking effect combined with the glitter in his eyes. “Let us find out, little raven.”

Without further warning, Oberyn’s fingers withdraw from your cunt. Every muscle in you tightens, your awareness narrowing in anticipation. Oberyn strokes his cock through your sex, readying you. Your hips lift toward the sensation. Your eyes lock.

The prince of Dorne plunges his cock into you in a single, breathtaking stroke. Your head drops back; your eyes roll heavenward. Oberyn’s loud, satisfied moan fills the room. He relishes this moment as fully as he enjoys everything else he does, his hips grinding forward into yours like he cannot get enough of himself inside you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breathing short. Oberyn’s cock fills you like nothing you’ve ever felt, until there is no room for you to focus on anything but the thick, burning length of him.

“Look at me, Bird. Open your eyes.”

How can you do anything but obey?

Oberyn’s gaze is fiercely alive, shining with joy and triumph at the pleasure connecting you.

You can hardly speak, but he sees it in your eyes; you have never been so thrilled to feel like a mouse in the cat’s claws.

After that there is nothing more to be said. Oberyn ravishes you as he promised, raining praises like word of law, scandalous declarations that make you blush despite your position beneath him. Every stroke of his cock is a work of art. The prince draws out your pleasure from a seemingly endless spool, until you are unraveled, trembling, teetering on the knife’s edge of bliss.

The necklace around your throat did indeed glitter like a chain of stars. Oberyn thrusts into you hard, taking it as a challenge to make the stones chime louder than you sobbed each time. He thoroughly enjoys the way each thrust makes your curves ripple. He enjoys, too, the sight of his wife plastering herself to your shoulder, cooing encouragement even as she contributes to Oberyn’s treatment.

“You’re doing so well, sweet bird. My husband does have stamina, doesn’t he? And this after he had me earlier this morn…” Ellaria’s voice is lush and silky as flower petals- and as erotic dragging over your skin. “I had no idea you could sing so sweetly.”

Oberyn slows his pace. “I should not be the only one to have you today, my heart. I wish to hear what songs you make together.”

Oberyn grips your chin in his large hand and turns your face toward the princess. “What do you say, Songbird? Will you eat my wife’s cunt when I’m through with yours?”

You would have agreed to anything as long he brought you back to that dazzling edge, but this was a bargain you’d be happy to fulfill.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Gladly.”

A small smile tilts up Ellaria’s mouth. “I would be most intrigued to experience the talents of this lovely mouth,” she muses. “But perhaps I would rather eat yours, instead. You know how I like to taste you, my prince.”

She direct the last words to her husband, sultry mischief in her dark eyes. Her fingertips dance between your bodies, down, down, to where you are split around him. You jolt at the targeted pressure she places on your clit.

Oberyn groans, his forehead lowering to your shoulder. “I fear you shall not have long to wait, my love. This cunt is truly divine- it may deserve further worship after all…”

His words trail away, praises only half-formed grunted into your neck. His thrusts speed up again. The two of them on either side of you, commanding your pleasure so sweetly, overwhelms your senses- as do Ellaria’s fingers, pressing precisely where you need.

Your mouth opens in a soundless cry as you tip over the precipice. Oberyn jerks his head up to see, and the gorgeous pleasure-pain contorting your features, your cunt fluttering in time with your body’s convulsions, yanks the prince after you.

Ellaria watches raptly. Her husband’s long body, muscles rippling as he pistons into another, was a sight she never tired of. Neither was his near-snarl as he climaxed, his body seizing and shuddering in ecstasy.

The prince continues moving until your cries turn to whimpers, and your thighs clamp around his hips. A sinister thought briefly quirks his mouth- if he had not been additionally sated by Ellaria earlier, it would have taken much more effort indeed to slow him. Oberyn is rarely satisfied unless his lovers are all but unable to rise from his bed.

A good thing then, that a familiar gleam has appeared in his wife’s eye.

As Oberyn lowers himself back down to your side, Ellaria takes his place, her body undulating atop yours like a serpent. The prince watches with lazy satisfaction. Despite both his recent releases, his blood maintains a low simmer at the sight of the two of you, the feminine swells of you squishing and spilling against one another. Like the overflow of cream from a bun, he thinks dreamily. Exactly how he likes his cream- overflowing. Perhaps he will be able to sleep now, and he can request some custard puffs from the kitchens later for a second reenactment…

You have barely caught your breath from Oberyn’s attention when Ellaria steals it again, her tongue slipping against yours in a familiar dance. Unencumbered by gowns this time, you are able to touch all of her, caressing down her spine and lower, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. She sits up slightly, and slickness that's not your own lets her rock easily against your sex.

“You sing too sweetly to release so soon, lovely bird. Have you any urgent appointments today?”

Your gaze falls to the black sash which Oberyn had so carelessly tossed aside. Before you can respond, another knock sounds at the door.

Oberyn lets out a half-hearted snarl. “By all the gods-”

Again fully nude, but appearing even more debauched than when you’d arrived, the prince stalks to the door and flings it open.

“Yes?”

It’s another messenger, although her reaction is very different from yours: she stares rigidly ahead, her voice quavering at the sight of Oberyn’s naked, recently exerted body.

“My prince, the Maester sent me to look for…” she trails off when she spots you, her eyes flitting to you for a split second when Oberyn shifts impatiently. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, my lord.” She bows her head, her voice going squeaky.

“Tell him I have need of this raven for a special task today. I will answer his missive later.”

Oberyn is closing the door before he’s done speaking. When he turns back to the bed, he finds you with your head thrown back, writhing as Ellaria toys deliberately with your nipples.

He chuckles. “And you tell me I am the incorrigible one, my love.”

Oberyn burrows languidly into the sheets again, stretching out comfortably by your side. You’re whimpering by now, a furrow in your brow rapidly taking the shape of disbelief. It’s a feeling he knows well.

“Oh, sweet bird, my wife is a rare talent with her fingers, is she not? We have hardly begun all the things we would do to you…”

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