#waiting for some secret sign from god that is yet to arrive

[elephantbitterhead]

I'm officially about to enter the Frankenstein stage of gardening.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Dead of Night - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer stumbles upon a secret dark fantasy of reader’s and does everything he can to be the one to fulfill it.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written anything with themes like this so feedback is definitely appreciated. Not proofread cuz this is long and I’m tired ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I fully understand if the themes included in this are not for some of my regular readers and I encourage you to scroll if you’re not comfortable with any of the following warnings.

TW: perv!spencer, dom!spencer, mask kink, knife play, blood, dubcon, kind of cnc but it’s emphasized repeatedly that reader initiates and is in control of what is taking place, unprotected sex, penetration, creampie, degradation (slut), pet names (doll, angel) religious imagery, gun mention, std testing mention, fem + afab reader, soulmate talk

Rating: R, 18+

——

You knew it was wrong, you’d seen just how easily Penelope was able to track someone down through their “anonymous” profile on websites just like this one, but your desires got the better of you, and you just had to try.

Your profile was nondescript, your age, a vague physical description of yourself, and a link to a meticulously detailed account of your wildest fantasies. After weeks of back and forth, chatting with a few equally nondescript profiles, you found the one that you really clicked with, the stranger you decided you’d let sneak into your window and do whatever he wanted with you. After an std panel and the agreement of your safe word, you decided to fully commit, sending this complete stranger your address and logging off for the night.

Even though you knew this was a stupid idea, you weren’t a complete idiot, you had plans in case anything went south, including placing your handgun in your bedside table for easy access if you, god-forbid, had to use it. Placing yourself in a high-risk situation was the whole point, and you couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.

You spent the remainder of your afternoon preparing, doing every grooming ritual you’d usually do before a date, but this time felt somehow more important. You didn’t even know what this guy looked like, and yet, you wanted to be the picture of beauty for him. It was silly, but you always pictured yourself the prettiest you’d ever been when you daydreamed about being ravaged by a stranger. You wanted to be completely irresistible in every way, and you were doing everything in your power to accomplish that.

As the sun finally set, your excitement levels began to rise, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your masked suitor. You opened the bedroom window just above your fire escape, the cool night air drawing goosebumps over your exposed skin, only a thin lace slip and matching panties adorning your frame. You crawled into bed, double checking your bedside drawer before pulling your comforter over your body, eagerly drifting off to sleep.

—

Spencer had been keeping a secret, one that he did not want you to know about, until today. A few weeks ago he’d stayed late to finish up some paperwork for the last case you’d been on, when his pen ran out of ink just as he was about to sign off the last document. He walked to your empty desk, reaching across it to grab a pen from the cup next to your monitor, when his arm brushed against your mouse, causing your display to light up.

He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity got the best of him, scanning through the title of each tab open on your browser until a certain website caught his eye. He went against his better judgment and clicked the tab, his jaw dropping upon viewing your profile, and with it, the graphic description of your sexual proclivities. His brain immediately cemented that information in his mind’s eye, fit to torture him for days after the encounter.

He couldn’t stop picturing himself fulfilling all of those desires for you, having to excuse himself to the bathroom several times a day to take care of the bulge in his pants just from being around you. He eventually bit the bullet, creating his own profile on the website and messaging you as an “anonymous” suitor, beyond pleased when the two of you hit it off. He felt bad not telling you, but this was a means to an end that would surely leave you both satisfied, and the devious part of him won out this time.

He did everything you asked, getting tested so he could fuck you raw, he was apprehensive about the risks of a potential pregnancy even without the fear of std transmission, but the way you begged so beautifully in your messages for him to creampie you was more than enough to convince him. The moment he got your message with your address, he went out and purchased a mask to conceal his identity just like you asked, and anxiously waited for nightfall.

—

The graze of fabric against your skin gently woke you as your bedding was pulled down off of your body, your mind clouded from the deep sleep you’d been sunk in seconds before. You rolled onto your back, starting to lift your head until a large hand clamped over your mouth, forcing your head back down onto your pillow. Your eyes widened, darting around the room before settling on the masked figure on top of you. You tried to scream against his palm, but the sound simply reverberated back against you, muffled by his strong grip.

His free hand made quick work of cutting off your slip, the thin fabric splitting easily against the blade of the knife in his grasp. You struggled underneath him, weakly pushing at his strong shoulders, feigning defense as the heartbeat in your cunt grew stronger by the second. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you feel almost high.

“Don’t fight it.” He hushed, holding the knife flush against your neck. You slowed your movements, settling for shifting your legs against his. He removed his hand from your mouth, freeing it up to gather your hands to pin them above your head as well as give you an opportunity to use your safe-word if need be.

He trailed the knife down your body, your chest heaving with shaky breaths as the blade scratched a small cut between your breasts, warm droplets of blood forming in it’s wake. He followed the curve of your body, leaving shallow kitten scratches until he reached your hip, using the tip of the knife to carve a heart into your skin. The sting of each movement set every nerve ending in your body on fire, the wetness pooling between your thighs increasing by the second.

He pressed his thumb to the wound, smearing the blood down to the waistband of your panties, using the digit to pull the fabric before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped, your labored breaths growing more desperate as he brought the blade to slice the fabric, exposing your embarrassingly wet cunt.

“Look at how wet you are, you love this, don’t you?” The condescension in his tone felt almost half-hearted, and the more of his voice you heard, the more familiar he started to sound, but you couldn’t quite place why. You looked down at him, watching his every move as you tried to place him.

He set the knife on the bed, using his now free hand to yank his pants down, his hard cock slapping against his thigh. Your eyes went wide at his size, looking just long and thick enough to have you a little worried about being able to take him raw, but the thought of being stretched to your limits sent another wave of arousal straight to your core and helped quell that fear ever so slightly.

“If you don’t want this, just say the word.” His words dripped from his lips like honey, sickly sweet, and in that moment you had never felt more sure of your desire for anything in your life.

—

Spencer wondered if the way he was feeling was akin to that of religious psychosis, so engulfed in your very being that he ought to worship at your altar for the rest of his life, fit to carry out any act you requested of him.

His brain kept your description of your fantasy scrolling in the back of his mind, catering to everything you had written to a T in hopes of making this a night you’d never forget. The only thing at the forefront of his thoughts, however, was the intoxicating sounds you made every time he gripped or marked your skin. Each note sought to pull his focus, threatening his plan as it tempted him to lose control all together. He couldn’t do that, his conscience too righteous in its goal to keep you as pleased as possible.

He took his time, marking you just the way you’d requested, his cock twitching with every whimper that flowed out of you until he finally reached your core, the lace of your underwear glistening under the moonlight cast through your open window from how wet you were. He wanted to sink fully into you without a care in the world, but he had to make sure this was absolutely what you wanted. He was, to your knowledge, a stranger after all, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable in any way.

—

You frantically shook your head in acknowledgment, spreading your legs wider for him, ready for this tall stranger to finally be inside of you. Your eagerness spurred him on, a surge of confidence washing over him as he let go of your wrists, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you further down the bed. He lifted your legs so your knees rested atop his shoulders, his rough movements making you gasp.

He brought his cock to your core, running the shaft through your slick folds before slapping the head against your clit a few times, the repeated hits making your hips jolt ever so slightly. He hummed low in the back of his throat, lining up his tip with your entrance before thrusting forward, bottoming out inside of you in one fell swoop.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted, one hand holding an iron grip on your thigh to hold your leg up, the other digging fingerprints into your hip. You gasped once more at the intrusion, feeling more full than ever before as he set a steady but unrelenting pace. Your gasp turned to crying moans, brows furrowed in awe at the way his cock stretched you so deliciously, prominent veins rubbing against the contours of your sensitive walls.

Each snap of his hips had his balls slapping against your ass, the lude sound mixing with his grunts and the wet squelching where your bodies met in the most intimate way, the decibel level in the room reaching an all-time high.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet yourself to at least somewhat lower the noise and not disturb your sleeping neighbors, but the absence of your desperate moans was not lost on him. His pace slowed, his left hand firmly gripping your chin to force you to look at his masked face. His eyes met yours through the thin slit in the dark fabric.

You knew those eyes, those big, soft brown irises, so comforting, yet darker than you recognized, pupils far more blown than you’d ever seen before. You knew him, but there was no way. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, because there was no way that Spencer Reid would do anything this perverse, let alone with you.

“Louder, slut.” He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lower lip out from under your bite.

“I-I’m not a slut.” You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“Only a slut would leave her bedroom window open, practically begging a stranger to come in and fuck her.” This was far too brazen to be Spencer, you thought, a level of blunt confidence you’d never in a million years expect from him.

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You stuttered over your words, raising your voice in an attempt to half heartedly defend your actions.

“Well then, you should really be more careful next time.” He laughed, releasing his grip on your face before playfully slapping your cheek and increasing the pace of his thrusts, his now free hand finding your clit. His calloused thumb drew broad strokes over and over and over against your sensitive bundle of nerves, a knot tightening in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to your release. You turned your head, trying to bury your face in the pillow as you writhed underneath him, your body frantically looking for relief.

“Oh don’t be shy doll, let me see how much you’re enjoying this.” His tone was almost sing-song, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were. He pressed his body down closer to yours, almost pinning your thighs against your stomach, the change in angle forcing a borderline scream from your lungs, crying out strangled ‘uh’s with every stroke. You looked him in the eye, desperate to know if this deity above you could possibly be your nerdy coworker, and every interaction you’d had with him flashed before your eyes.

Every fleeting glance he took at your chest or your ass, the way he lingered behind you in the field, feeling his presence even when you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t think of a time he wasn’t around a corner when you turned it, always near whenever you needed his help on a case. You always secretly hoped he'd make a move sooner or later, but you never thought it would be anything like this.

He was omnipotent, knowing exactly how to make you feel things you’d never felt before, pushing your body to levels of pleasure you never thought possible. You thought you might disappear, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to make sense of everything, finally understanding why the French refer to orgasms as the little death.

Your walls fluttered around him, the sounds leaving you reduced to pathetic whimpers as your vocal chords grew strained.

“That’s it, cum on my cock, angel.” He groaned, his thrusts growing increasingly desperate. The pet name surprised you, but if he saw you as an angel, how fitting considering how godlike he felt to you in that moment. You could tell he was close, and if your orgasm was what would get him to cum inside you, then so be it. Your eyes glazed over, your hands clawing at his back as you chanted ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ like a mantra, wave after wave of euphoria washing over every nerve in your body.

—

Spencer was a man possessed, his primal urges leaving his mind completely uninhibited, so lost in your body that he thought he might need divine intervention to ever leave you.

He didn’t quite understand where the sudden dominant urge coursing through his veins had come from, but he didn’t care to dwell too much on the thought, content to fuck you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he secretly hoped you’d realize who he was, wishing for nothing more than for you to want him for him. His heart felt like it may burst at the thought, the desire to be wanted as he was ever-lingering inside of it, that being the very motivation behind his lingering tendencies from the start.

As your heat contracted around him, he felt an embrace like no other, hoping the myth of twin flames to be true. If this connection wasn’t proof of it, how could he rationally explain anything? He knew the scientific reasoning behind it, but it didn’t feel like enough, such a finite explanation for a feeling so sempiternal.

He wondered if you felt the same way too, so lost in his every desire that he let himself dive into the delusion, using the pet name he wished he could call you every day for eternity.

Your chants and cries as you came set him free, his hips stuttering as he finally filled your aching cunt to the brim with his seed. He hovered above you, catching his breath, watching your expression soften as you rode out your orgasm, practically glowing.

When he finally snapped out of his lust-fueled haze, he fully remembered his role, pulling out of you and quickly scrambling to stand, fixing his pants and underwear. You had agreed to his departure after, and as badly as he wanted to hold you until you drifted off to sleep, he respected your wishes more than his wants. He walked to the window, lifting his leg to climb out of it when you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He turned, seeing you sit up, hazy smile on your face.

“Thank you.” You sighed, and he gave a nod of acknowledgement before slipping out of the window and into the night.

—

When you awoke, you had a couple minutes of doubt in which you thought the events of the night before had all been a dream, until you moved to get out of bed and winced at sting from the shallow marks adorning your body and the dull ache between your legs. You smiled to yourself, before looking at your phone and realizing what time it was. You were going to be late, and panic set in when you realized you’d have to go to work in the makeup you’d fallen asleep in last night.

You rushed out the door, checking your makeup in a compact mirror in your car, wiping a small bit of smudged mascara off of your brow bone before walking into work.

“Fun night?” Derek quipped as you walked through the doors, always the first to poke fun at your perceived escapades.

“You could say that.” You laughed, setting your handbag on your desk before joining the team to walk to the conference room.

“What happened?” Penelope asked, almost panicked, taking your arm in her hand and pointing to the only visible cut on your body.

“Oh that’s nothing, I just scraped my arm on my car door.” You reassured, smiling at her. As much as you loved your best friend, she didn’t need to know the truth of your little white lie.

“You should really be more careful next time.” Spencer’s voice came from behind you, his hand gently resting on your hip before squeezing right where the heart shaped cut from the night before was inlaid in your skin. His words reverberated in the space between your ears as your brain processed what he’d just said.

Realization hit you like a semi truck, your lips parting in shock. Your suspicions had been correct, and you almost wanted to turn around and kiss then interrogate him right there. You couldn’t do that though, having a full work day in front of both of you.

Now you just had to figure out a time and place to broach the subject with him without completely humiliating yourself.

——

part 2 can be found here

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[novaursa]

The Last Dragonslayer (2/2)

- Summary: The conclusion of a journey, for you, one of the many.

- Paring: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

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

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 1

- Bonus part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The council chamber is cold, the stone walls adorned with banners of House Targaryen, their crimson and black fabric swaying lightly in the draft. The weight of history presses down upon you, the ancient stones whispering secrets of kings and conquerors. You stand at the edge of the chamber, watching Rhaenyra from beneath the hood of your cloak. The lords seated around the table glance at you uneasily, their gazes lingering too long, discomfort plain in their eyes. You are a foreigner, an anomaly, a reminder of tales and nightmares they would rather forget.

Rhaenyra, the Queen, sits at the head of the table, her presence commanding even as shadows darken the skin beneath her eyes. She’s been restless since Daemon left for Harrenhal, pacing the halls of Dragonstone like a caged beast. Now, she listens as her advisors bicker, her expression tight, her gaze distant. They speak of the war, of the blood that’s already been spilled, and the blood that will flow if they do not act.

Alfred Broome, his voice tinged with frustration, slams his fist on the table. “We cannot continue to sit idle, Your Grace. The Greens gain more ground with each passing day! Aemond’s attack on Storm’s End—”

“—was an act of war,” interrupts Lord Celtigar, his tone measured but firm. “They have already crossed the line.”

“And yet we remain here, waiting!” Broome snaps, glaring at the others. “Waiting for what? A miracle? A sign from the gods? Aemond tried to kill Prince Lucerys, and still, we do nothing.”

You watch as Rhaenyra’s knuckles whiten, her fingers digging into the arms of her chair. Her grief is palpable, a dark cloud that has yet to lift since news of Lucerys’ narrow escape reached her. But she remains silent, her eyes flickering with a storm of emotions she refuses to let loose before these men.

It’s then that you decide to speak, your voice low, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Action without strategy is a fool’s errand, Lord Broome. Perhaps you are eager to throw away lives in a show of haste, but the Queen’s duty is to her people, not to your impatience.”

The lords turn to you, their eyes narrowing, some in suspicion, others in outright disdain. You meet their stares unflinchingly, the cold fire of your homeland reflected in your gaze. Your hand rests on the hilt of your sword—a sword older than any of them, a relic of a time when the world was shaped by fire and blood, but not by dragons alone.

Broome sneers, his lip curling. “And what would a foreigner know of our wars? Of our dragons?”

More than you could ever understand, you think, but do not say aloud. Instead, you take a step forward, the shadow of your Banshee—your mount, your companion, and your weapon—seeming to loom behind you, though it remains far from these walls. The lords shift uncomfortably as if sensing its presence. They fear it, as they should.

“I know,” you say, your voice steady, “that Aemond did more than just attack Storm’s End. He was driven away. Chased off by something he did not expect, and that something was me. You may not trust my motives, but understand this: I have chosen to stand with the Queen, to see balance preserved in Westeros. You would do well to heed her wisdom and not let your fear cloud your judgment.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes meet yours across the table, and for a moment, the storm within her clears. There is gratitude there, and something else—something that has lingered between you since the night you arrived at Dragonstone, the night you saved her son. The pull between you is undeniable, a silent promise that neither of you has yet dared to speak aloud. But in her gaze, you see it as clearly as the flames of a dragon’s breath.

Lord Celtigar clears his throat, cutting through the tension. “The Lady Y/N speaks true. We cannot act rashly. The Greens expect us to strike without thought. We must outmaneuver them, not merely meet them on the field of battle.”

The room falls silent, the lords exchanging glances. Broome’s scowl deepens, but he holds his tongue, his eyes flickering to Rhaenyra, who now seems more resolute.

Rhaenyra straightens in her seat, the weight of the crown evident on her shoulders but her voice strong. “We will act, but we will act wisely. The Greens will not find us easy prey. We will not fall into their traps, nor will we be goaded into hasty decisions. Lord Celtigar, begin preparations for the fleet. We’ll strike where they least expect it. And Lord Broome,” she adds, her gaze hardening, “you will ensure that our forces are ready when the time comes.”

Broome stiffens but nods, his anger barely concealed. “As you command, Your Grace.”

The council continues, the lords discussing strategy, but your attention drifts to Rhaenyra. The tension in her shoulders has eased slightly, but the burden she carries is still heavy. You find yourself stepping closer, a silent offering of support that she acknowledges with a slight nod, a flicker of something warm in her eyes as she turns back to the map spread out before her.

Later, when the council disperses, and the lords retreat to their chambers, you linger. The chamber is quiet now, the echo of the lords' voices fading into the stone. Rhaenyra stands by the hearth, staring into the flames, her thoughts far away. You approach her, the weight of your sword still at your side, a constant reminder of who you are and what you represent.

“You were right to keep a level head,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence. “They do not understand the full scope of what we face.”

She turns to you, the firelight casting her features in a warm glow. For a moment, she looks younger, almost fragile, but then her eyes meet yours, and the steel within her is evident once more. “It is difficult,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “To know when to strike, and when to hold back. But with Daemon gone, I must be even more cautious. I cannot afford to lose another child… or more allies.”

“You won’t,” you reply, your voice firm. “Not while I’m here.”

A small, wry smile tugs at her lips. “I am grateful for that, Y/N. More than you know.”

The air between you shifts, charged with the unspoken words that neither of you dare to voice, not here, not now. But the promise remains, woven into the fabric of your alliance, and something deeper, something personal.

You reach out, your hand brushing against hers—a fleeting touch that sends a jolt through you both. Rhaenyra doesn’t pull away, her fingers curling slightly, as if to hold onto the warmth you offer. For a brief moment, the weight of the crown, the war, the bloodshed all fades, leaving just the two of you standing by the fire, bound by something stronger than duty.

“Stay with me,” she murmurs, her voice soft, vulnerable in a way you’ve never heard before. “Just a little longer.”

You nod, your hand gently clasping hers, the two of you standing side by side as the fire crackles softly in the hearth, the flames a quiet witness to the bond growing between you.

The wind howls through the trees, rustling the leaves and sending a shiver down your spine. The forest is dense, the shadows long as dusk begins to settle over the land. You stand alone in a clearing, your cloak billowing around you like a dark shadow, the hilt of your ancient sword gleaming faintly in the dim light. The ground beneath your feet is soft, the earth freshly disturbed by the recent passage of men and horses—Ser Criston Cole’s forces, on their way to seize Duskendale for the Greens.

The quiet of the forest is broken by the distant sound of hooves, growing louder with each passing moment. You remain still, your gaze fixed on the treeline as they emerge—riders clad in armor, their banners snapping in the wind. At their head rides Ser Criston Cole himself, his face set in a stern mask, followed closely by Ser Gwayne Hightower and several dozen men-at-arms. They slow as they approach, their horses snorting and stamping as they take in your solitary figure.

The men spread out in a semicircle, surrounding you, their weapons at the ready. Ser Criston rides closer, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your appearance. The tales of your deeds have reached his ears, no doubt—whispers of a foreigner with an ancient sword, a beast that haunts the skies, and the power to make even dragons flee. But it’s clear he does not yet understand the full measure of what stands before him.

“Who are you to stand in our path?” Criston’s voice is hard, commanding, as if the answer to his question will determine whether you live or die.

You don’t flinch under his scrutiny, your voice calm as you reply, “I am Y/N. I have come to give you a chance, Ser Criston. Turn back now, and you may yet live to see another day.”

A murmur ripples through the men, some of them exchanging uneasy glances. They’ve heard the tales too, and the sight of you standing alone, unafraid, seems to unsettle them. But Criston is unmoved, his expression hardening as he spurs his horse closer, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

“You expect me to turn tail at the sight of a woman?” He sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. “You may have frightened Aemond, but I am no craven boy. I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, sworn to protect the true king. Step aside, or I will cut you down where you stand.”

His men shift in their saddles, emboldened by their commander’s bravado. Ser Gwayne smirks, drawing his sword, the blade catching the dying light of the sun. “It would be wise to heed the Commander’s words, foreigner. You are far from home and outnumbered.”

You remain still, your expression unreadable, the forest around you eerily silent. The air grows colder, the breeze carrying the scent of earth and leaves. You speak again, your voice carrying an edge of steel. “This is your final warning, Ser Criston. I am not here to play games, nor am I here to waste lives. Turn back, or face the consequences.”

Criston’s eyes narrow, his patience clearly worn thin. He raises his sword, the motion sharp and decisive. “Enough of this. Men, bring me her head.”

The order is given, and the men begin to close in around you, their horses snorting, the sound of metal clinking as they draw their weapons. You don’t move, your hand resting lightly on the hilt of your sword, the weight of it familiar and comforting.

As the first rider approaches, sword raised high, you draw your blade with a fluid motion, the ancient steel singing as it cuts through the air. The rider barely has time to react before your sword meets his, the force of the blow sending a shockwave up his arm. His eyes widen in surprise, and in that moment of hesitation, you twist your blade, disarming him with a swift, practiced movement.

He falls from his horse with a cry, his weapon clattering to the ground. The other men hesitate, clearly not expecting such a swift and effortless display. But Criston’s voice rings out, cold and commanding. “Press the attack! She’s but one woman!”

But you are not just one woman. You are Y/N, the last of the Dragonslayers. And this is not your first battle.They charge at you, swords flashing in the dim light, but you are ready. Your movements are a blur, each strike precise, each parry executed with lethal grace. One by one, the riders fall, unhorsed by the skill of your blade or the sheer power behind your strikes. The clearing becomes a battlefield, the air filled with the clash of steel and the cries of men.

In the chaos, you catch sight of Ser Gwayne, his face twisted in anger as he drives his horse towards you. You meet his charge head-on, your swords clashing with a force that reverberates through your arms. He grits his teeth, pushing against you with all his strength, but you hold firm, the ancient power of your blade surging through you.

“You should have listened,” you say, your voice low, as you twist your sword, breaking his stance and sending him reeling. He barely manages to stay in the saddle, his eyes wide with shock as he realizes just how outmatched he is.

“You’re a demon!” he spits, his voice trembling as he regains his balance, but the fear is evident in his eyes.

“No,” you reply, your voice cold, “I am justice.”

With a final, powerful strike, you knock him from his horse, sending him crashing to the ground. He groans, trying to rise, but you place the tip of your sword against his throat, pinning him in place. The other men halt, unsure whether to continue their attack or flee.

Ser Criston watches the scene unfold, his face a mask of fury and disbelief. He dismounts, striding towards you, his sword at the ready. “You think you can best me?” he snarls, raising his weapon.

You turn to face him, your blade still poised at Gwayne’s throat. “I don’t think, Ser Criston. I know.”

Criston lunges at you, his strikes fast and furious, but you are faster. Your swords clash, the sound ringing through the clearing like a bell. He fights with the ferocity of a man with everything to lose, but you match him blow for blow, your movements fluid, almost effortless. He’s strong, but strength alone is not enough.

The battle drags on, but with each passing moment, Criston’s strikes become more desperate, more reckless. He overextends on a particularly vicious swing, and you seize the opportunity. You parry his strike, stepping inside his guard and slashing across his chest. He stumbles back, blood blooming across his white cloak, staining it red.

He grits his teeth, refusing to fall, but the wound has taken its toll. You don’t give him a chance to recover, pressing the attack with a series of swift, precise strikes. He barely manages to parry, each blow pushing him further back until he’s on the defensive, his movements slowing.

Finally, with a powerful upward swing, you knock his sword from his hand, sending it flying across the clearing. He falls to his knees, clutching his bleeding chest, his face pale, eyes wide with disbelief.

You stand over him, your sword raised, its tip pointed at his throat. “I warned you,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of inevitability.

Criston glares up at you, defiance still burning in his eyes, but there is also fear—fear of the unknown, of the force that now stands over him. “Kill me, then,” he spits. “But know this: you will never defeat one true king, Aegon.”

You lower your sword slightly, considering him for a moment. “I do not need to defeat your king, Ser Criston. I only need to preserve the balance.”

With that, you withdraw your sword, stepping back. Criston’s eyes widen in surprise, but you give him no time to react. You whistle sharply, and from the shadows of the forest, your Banshee emerges, its massive form blotting out the last of the daylight. The men around you recoil in terror as the creature lets out a bone-chilling shriek, the sound reverberating through the clearing like the cry of a thousand tortured souls.

Criston stares up at the creature, his face drained of all color, and for the first time, you see true fear in his eyes.

“Tell your king,” you say, your voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “that Duskendale is under my protection. And the next time we meet, I will not be so merciful.”

With that, you turn and mount your Banshee, the creature’s wings unfurling as it prepares to take flight. The men watch in stunned silence as you ascend into the sky, the wind whipping around you as your mount carries you away from the clearing and into the night.

Below, the soldiers of the Greens stand frozen, their leader humbled, their will to fight shattered. The tale of what happened in that clearing will spread, carried on the winds of fear, and it will be known that the last of the Dragonslayers walks the earth once more.

The great hall of Dragonstone is quiet as you enter, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. The air is thick with the scent of salt and smoke, the sea and the dragon forges mingling to create an atmosphere that is both heavy and foreboding. Rhaenyra and her council are gathered around the massive oak table at the center of the chamber, the map of Westeros spread out before them. Their faces are drawn, tense with the weight of decisions yet to be made.

You stride forward, the sound of your boots on the stone floor echoing through the chamber. The lords and advisors turn to you, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. You are a mystery to most of them, a shadow in the midst of their struggles, but your presence commands attention.

Rhaenyra looks up from the map, her violet eyes locking onto yours. There is a quiet strength in her gaze, tempered by the grief and burdens she carries. She nods to you, her silent signal for you to speak.

“The Greens will no longer trouble themselves with coastal points, Your Grace,” you begin, your voice steady and clear. “I intercepted Ser Criston Cole’s forces before they could reach Duskendale. They were forced to retreat, and word will spread of their defeat. They will not dare to strike at our shores again, not while I stand with you.”

Murmurs ripple through the council, some lords exchanging glances of relief, others still wary of the enigmatic figure before them. But Rhaenyra’s expression is one of satisfaction, a glimmer of approval in her eyes.

“Well done, Lady Y/N,” she says, her voice carrying the authority of a queen. “You have once again proven your value to our cause.”

You incline your head slightly, acknowledging her words. “It is my duty, Your Grace.”

The council continues for a while longer, discussions of strategy and the next moves in the war filling the chamber. But you notice that Rhaenyra’s attention drifts back to you frequently, her gaze lingering as if she has something more on her mind. Finally, as the meeting draws to a close, she dismisses her advisors with a wave of her hand.

“Lady Y/N,” she calls, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “A word, if you will.”

You nod, following her as she leads you from the great hall. The corridors of Dragonstone are dimly lit, the stone walls cold and unyielding. Rhaenyra’s pace is slow, measured, as if she is gathering her thoughts. You walk beside her in silence, the only sound the faint echoes of your footsteps.

She leads you to her chambers, a grand room that still manages to feel intimate despite its size. The air is warm here, a stark contrast to the chill of the hallways. A bath is drawn, the steam rising gently from the water, scented with herbs and oils. It’s clear that Rhaenyra sought this moment of respite, a small comfort amidst the storm of war.

She gestures for you to sit by the fire, where a table is set with a decanter of wine and two goblets. “Please, join me,” she says, her voice soft but carrying a hint of something more—curiosity, perhaps, or even a touch of longing.

You take a seat, watching as she pours the wine, the deep red liquid catching the light of the flames. She hands you a goblet, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments. The touch is fleeting, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken.

“I wanted to speak with you, Y/N,” she begins, taking a sip of her wine as she settles into a chair opposite you. “I realize I know so little about you, despite all you’ve done for me. You’ve proven yourself a loyal ally, but there is much I would like to understand. Who are you, truly?”

You swirl the wine in your goblet, considering her question. There is so much to tell, more than could be shared in one evening, or even in a lifetime. But you see the sincerity in her eyes, the genuine desire to know you, not just as a warrior, but as a person.

“I have seen much, Your Grace,” you say slowly, your voice carrying the weight of centuries. “More than most could ever dream or fear. I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the death of loved ones, the shifting tides of history. From the brilliant Yo Ti Empire to the shadowed lands of Asshai, to the great wonders beyond the western seas… I have wandered this world longer than I care to remember.”

Rhaenyra listens intently, her eyes wide, a shiver running down her spine at your words. But it is not fear that grips her—it is something else, something that makes her heart quicken, her breath catch.

“How old are you?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she is almost afraid to hear the answer.

You smile faintly, the lines of your face softening as you look into the flames. “Too old, Your Grace. Old enough to have seen the world change many times over. To be bound to a Banshee is a terrible purpose.”

Rhaenyra sits back in her chair, the goblet forgotten in her hand as she takes in the enormity of your words. For a moment, the weight of your age and experience presses down upon her, making her feel small and fleeting in comparison. But then, she realizes something—despite all you have seen, all you have endured, you are here, by her side, choosing to stand with her in this tumultuous time.

She reaches out, her hand resting lightly on yours, her touch warm, grounding. “And yet you have chosen to fight for me, for Westeros. Why?”

You look at her, truly look at her, and see not just a queen burdened by war, but a woman who has suffered, who has loved and lost, and who is determined to protect what remains. “Because, Your Grace, you fight for balance. For the hope that the world might find peace, that the fire of the dragons might warm rather than burn. That is something worth fighting for.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes soften, her heart touched by your words. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, her gaze never leaving yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For your honesty, and for your loyalty. It means more to me than I can express.”

The room seems warmer now, the tension of the day melting away as the two of you continue to talk. You share stories of your past, tales of lands and people she can only imagine, and she in turn shares her own hopes and fears, her dreams for her children, for her realm.

As the night deepens, the conversation grows more intimate, the barriers between you falling away. The flickering fire casts a soft glow on Rhaenyra’s face, highlighting the beauty and strength that have drawn you to her from the beginning. And though the specter of war still looms over you both, for this moment, in this room, there is only warmth, only connection.

The wine flows, the stories continue, and as the night wears on, the bond between you and the Black Queen deepens, becoming something more than mere alliance, more than duty.

The night deepens as you and Rhaenyra continue to talk, the warmth between you growing with each passing moment. The wine in your goblets has long since dwindled, but neither of you seems to notice, too absorbed in the quiet intimacy of your conversation. The fire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows across the room, but it is the light in Rhaenyra’s eyes that holds your attention.

As the conversation naturally lulls, a silence falls between you—not an awkward one, but rather filled with unspoken words and lingering glances. You notice how Rhaenyra’s gaze occasionally drifts to your lips, how her breath catches slightly when your hands brush. It is a delicate tension, a quiet yearning that neither of you has fully acknowledged until now.

Finally, Rhaenyra breaks the silence, her voice hushed, almost tentative. “Y/N… there is something I have been wanting to do for some time now.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in her tone. “And what might that be, Your Grace?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, instead leaning in closer, her eyes locked onto yours. The distance between you shrinks until you can feel the warmth of her breath against your skin, your hearts beating in tandem. Then, without another word, she closes the remaining distance, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that is soft yet filled with a deep, unspoken desire.

The kiss is tentative at first, testing, but as you respond, it deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. Rhaenyra’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while your own hand rests on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her dress. The world outside the room fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in this moment.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s as you take in the reality of what just happened. Rhaenyra’s eyes are dark with desire, her voice a mere whisper as she speaks. “Join me… in the bath.”

There is no hesitation in your response, only a quiet nod of agreement. You both rise from your seats, the space between you charged with anticipation. Rhaenyra’s hand slips into yours, leading you toward the bath that still steams softly in the corner of the room. The heat from the water fills the space, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy.

Standing beside the bath, you turn to face each other, the moment heavy with significance. Slowly, reverently, you begin to undress one another, your hands moving with a gentle purpose. Rhaenyra’s fingers trace the edges of your cloak, slipping it from your shoulders, while your own hands find the laces of her dress, loosening them with deliberate care. Each piece of clothing falls to the floor with a whisper, leaving you both bared to each other, not just in body, but in soul.

Rhaenyra’s gaze sweeps over you, appreciation and desire evident in her eyes. She reaches out, her hand trembling slightly as she brushes a lock of hair from your face, her touch tender, almost reverent. “You are… beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

You smile softly, your own hand coming up to cup her cheek, your thumb brushing against her skin. “As are you, Rhaenyra. You are radiant.”

There is no more need for words as you step into the bath together, the water embracing you both in its warmth. You sink into the water, Rhaenyra following, her body pressing against yours as you both settle into the comfort of the bath. The heat of the water contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening every sensation.

You share another kiss, this one slower, more languid, as if savoring each moment. Your hands begin to explore one another’s bodies, tracing the curves and lines with a tenderness that belies the passion simmering beneath the surface. You feel the strength in her arms, the softness of her skin, and the way her body trembles under your touch.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitches as your hand moves lower, finding the heat of her womanhood. She mirrors your movement, her fingers slipping between your thighs with a surety that makes you shudder. The contact is electric, sending ripples of pleasure through both of you. The world narrows to the sensation of her touch, the way her breath mingles with yours, the warmth of the water lapping at your bodies.

There is a rhythm to your movements, a dance of desire and affection that grows more intense with each passing second. Rhaenyra’s moans mix with your own, her voice breathy and desperate as she clings to you, her hips moving in time with your hand. The water sloshes gently around you, the only witness to this intimate exchange.

As the pressure builds within you both, the touches grow more urgent, the kisses more fervent. Rhaenyra’s hand tightens on your shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut as she reaches the edge. You follow her soon after, your bodies trembling together as the waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you both breathless, your hearts pounding in the aftermath.

For a moment, there is only the sound of your breathing, the gentle lap of the water, and the warmth of Rhaenyra’s body pressed against yours. Slowly, the intensity of the moment ebbs away, leaving behind a deep, abiding connection.

Rhaenyra leans her head against your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck. “That was… incredible,” she whispers, her voice still tinged with the aftershocks of pleasure.

You smile, your hand gently stroking her back as you hold her close. “It was,” you agree softly, feeling a profound sense of contentment.

The two of you remain like that for some time, simply holding each other, basking in the warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies. There is a gentle, unspoken understanding between you now, a bond forged not just by passion but by mutual respect and deepening affection.

As the water begins to cool, Rhaenyra lifts her head, looking into your eyes with a soft smile. “Let’s dry off and rest,” she suggests, her voice gentle. “There is much we still need to talk about… but for now, I just want to be close to you.”

You nod, helping her out of the bath and wrapping yourselves in the towels that were left nearby. As you dry each other off, the touches are more tender, more affectionate, than before. There is no rush, no urgency—only the simple pleasure of being together.

Once dry, you both slip into the bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin. Rhaenyra curls up beside you, her head resting on your chest, her hand lightly tracing patterns on your skin. You hold her close, your own hand gently stroking her hair, the intimacy of the moment filling you both with a deep sense of peace.

“Tell me more about your journeys,” Rhaenyra murmurs, her voice drowsy as sleep begins to tug at her.

“Of course,” you reply softly, your voice soothing as you begin to share more tales of distant lands and ancient times. Rhaenyra listens, her breathing slowing as she drifts off, content in your embrace.

As she falls asleep, you continue to hold her, your own eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. But before you succumb to sleep, you take a moment to appreciate the warmth of her body against yours, the comfort of her presence. 

Together, in the quiet of the night, you both find rest, the bond between you stronger than ever before.

The dawn is just breaking over Dragonstone, casting a pale golden light across the harbor. The sea is calm, the waters reflecting the first light of day like molten glass. The ships are ready, their sails furled and waiting for the wind to carry them across the Narrow Sea. Rhaenyra stands on the dock, her expression stern, though her heart is heavy. The decision to send her children away, to safety in Pentos, has not come easily. Aegon and Viserys cling to her skirts, their young faces filled with confusion and fear, while Lucerys stands beside her, trying to put on a brave face for his younger brothers.

Jacaerys, their eldest, stands a short distance away, his jaw set in determination, though there is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He is prepared to escort his brothers, to protect them as best he can, but the weight of responsibility is a heavy burden on such young shoulders.

Rhaenyra kneels to embrace her children, whispering words of comfort and love, even as her heart aches with the knowledge that she may not see them again for a long time—if ever. As she stands and turns to Jace, a shadow passes over the group. She looks up, expecting to see a cloud or a bird, but instead, it is you, descending from the sky on your Banshee, the creature’s leathery wings creating a powerful downdraft as it lands gracefully on the docks.

You dismount with practiced ease, your cloak billowing around you as you stride toward the group. The lords and soldiers present step back instinctively, the stories of your deeds still fresh in their minds. Jacaerys stiffens as you approach, sensing that something is about to change.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra greets you, her voice laced with surprise but also a trace of relief. “You’ve come to see them off?”

You nod, but your gaze is focused on Jacaerys, who meets your eyes with a mixture of respect and defiance. “No, Your Grace,” you say calmly, “I’ve come to take Prince's place.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrows in confusion, and Jace steps forward, his voice firm but uncertain. “But Mother has tasked me with escorting my brothers. I can’t leave them to face this journey alone.”

“You won’t be leaving them alone, Jace,” you reply, your tone gentle but unyielding. “But your place is here, by your mother’s side. She needs you now more than ever.”

Jace opens his mouth to protest, but you raise a hand, silencing him. “You won’t make it past the Gullet,” you continue, your eyes narrowing slightly as you speak. “On my last flight, I saw ships from the Free Cities approaching fast, likely in league with the Greens. They will be waiting for you, and you will not have the strength to fight them off. But I can.”

The gravity of your words sinks in, and Rhaenyra’s hand instinctively tightens on Jace’s arm. The boy hesitates, torn between his duty to his brothers and the growing realization that you speak the truth.

Rhaenyra’s gaze shifts from her son to you, her eyes searching yours. There is a deep understanding between you, born of the time you have spent together, the shared battles, and the nights spent in quiet conversation. She knows you too well, and she can sense what you are not saying.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra begins, her voice low and laden with concern. “You intend to go alone, don’t you?”

You nod slowly, the sadness in your eyes betraying what you cannot bring yourself to say outright. “This is something I must do, Rhaenyra. It is time for me to fulfill my calling, to see this through to the end.”

“No,” Rhaenyra says firmly, shaking her head as she steps closer to you. “You are not just an ally, Y/N. You are more than that. You have become… indispensable to me, to us. I cannot let you go, not like this.”

You offer her a sad smile, one that speaks of centuries of experience, of knowing when a path must be walked alone. “I have only ever obeyed one master, Rhaenyra,” you say softly, reaching out to gently cup her cheek. “And that is my calling. This is something I must do, for myself, and for those who have gone before me. My time here is coming to an end, and it is time for me to go home.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she blinks them away, her voice breaking as she speaks. “Will I ever see you again?”

You take a deep breath, your gaze lifting to the sky, where the first stars of evening are beginning to twinkle faintly, though the sun has barely risen. “I will be watching over you every night, Rhaenyra,” you reply, your voice tender and filled with an unspoken promise. “Whenever you look up at the stars, know that I am there, looking at you.”

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the weight of the world hanging in the air. Rhaenyra reaches up, placing her hand over yours where it rests against her cheek, holding on to the warmth of your touch as if she could somehow keep you with her.

“Then promise me,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “I promise I will do everything in my power to return,” you say, your voice filled with the sincerity of your oath. But there is something unspoken in your words, a truth that both of you know but do not want to acknowledge—that sometimes, not all promises can be kept.

Rhaenyra steps back reluctantly, releasing your hand, her eyes never leaving yours. She nods, accepting your words even as her heart rebels against them. “Go, then,” she says, her voice filled with the strength of a queen but the sorrow of a woman who knows she may be losing someone dear. “But remember that you have a place here, with us, with me. And if you can… come back to it.”

You bow your head slightly in acknowledgment, your expression one of quiet resolve. “Take care of your family, Rhaenyra,” you say, turning to the children, your eyes lingering on Jacaerys for a moment. “And remember what I’ve taught you.”

With that, you mount your Banshee, the creature’s wings stretching out in preparation for flight. You glance back at Rhaenyra one last time, committing her face to memory—the strength in her eyes, the sadness in her smile—before turning your gaze forward, to the horizon where your destiny awaits.

The Banshee’s powerful wings beat the air as you take off, soaring into the sky above Dragonstone. Below, you see Rhaenyra and her children watching, growing smaller and smaller as you climb higher into the sky. The wind rushes past you, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the distant promise of what is to come.

As the island fades into the distance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. You have made your choice, and it is the right one. 

And somewhere below, on the shores of Dragonstone, a queen stands alone, her gaze lifted to the heavens, searching the skies for a glimpse of the one she has come to care for more than she ever thought possible. As the stars begin to emerge, she knows that, wherever you are, you are looking at them too, and perhaps, just perhaps, you will find your way back to her, to the home you have both made together.

But for now, all she can do is wait, and hope, and hold on to the memory of your final kiss, a promise that will echo in her heart for as long as she lives.

Years have passed, and the Red Keep stands tall against the night sky, its ancient stones bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The castle, once a symbol of unyielding strength, now bears the weight of countless battles, of loss and victory, of the bloodshed that shaped the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, despite the passage of time, one constant remains: the stars, ever-present, watching over the realm with a silent, timeless gaze.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, now older and wearier, stands alone on the balcony of her chambers. The years have etched lines of sorrow and wisdom onto her face, and her once fiery spirit has been tempered by the trials she has endured. Her long silver hair, once a brilliant cascade, now carries strands of white, a testament to the time that has passed and the burdens she has carried. She wraps her cloak tightly around her shoulders, shielding herself from the cool night breeze that whispers through the Red Keep.

Her gaze is fixed on the sky, on the stars that glitter like diamonds against the velvety darkness. The constellations are familiar to her, their patterns etched into her memory from countless nights spent searching them for solace, for answers, for a glimpse of the past. The night is clear, the sky vast and endless, and yet Rhaenyra feels a deep, aching loneliness that even the stars cannot fill.

She lifts her chin slightly, her eyes tracing the paths of the stars as they twinkle serenely above. It has become a ritual of sorts, this nightly vigil, a way to connect with something greater than herself, to find comfort in the constancy of the heavens when everything else has changed.

But tonight, the stars seem more distant than ever.

She remembers those who have been lost to the ravages of time and war—her children, her loved ones, and the countless souls who once stood beside her. She remembers the faces of those who are no longer here, their voices now echoes in her memory. And among those memories, one stands out more vividly than the rest.

It has been years since you left her, years since you took flight from Dragonstone, vowing to protect her children, to do what needed to be done. You had promised to look after them, to see them safely to the other side of the Narrow Sea. And you had promised, in your own way, to return—to find your way back to her, to the place you both shared.

But you never did.

Rhaenyra’s heart tightens at the thought, a pang of sorrow so deep it threatens to overwhelm her. She has long since stopped searching the skies for your return, knowing deep down that you had fulfilled your destiny, whatever it may have been, and that she would never see you again. And yet, on nights like this, when the stars are particularly bright, she can’t help but wonder if somewhere, in some distant part of the world, you are still watching over her, as you had promised.

She leans against the cold stone of the balcony, her hands resting on the worn edges, her gaze unfaltering. The years have taken so much from her, but the memory of you remains, as vivid as the night you shared on Dragonstone, as real as the last kiss you gave her before you took to the skies. It is a memory she holds close, a fragment of warmth in a world that has grown increasingly colder.

The wind picks up slightly, rustling the leaves of the trees far below, carrying with it the faintest scent of the sea. It is a reminder of a time long past, of a love that was as fleeting as it was profound. Rhaenyra closes her eyes for a moment, letting the wind brush against her face, imagining it is your touch, soft and comforting, as it once was.

But when she opens her eyes, the night remains as it was, unchanged, the stars twinkling impassively above. She takes a deep breath, the weight of the years pressing down on her, and yet, there is a certain peace that comes with it. She knows that you are out there, somewhere beyond the reach of mortal hands, and that perhaps, in your own way, you are still watching over her.

Rhaenyra lifts her hand, as if to touch the stars, her fingers stretching out toward the endless sky. It is a futile gesture, and she knows it, but it brings her a small measure of comfort nonetheless. She lets her hand fall back to her side, her gaze lingering on the stars for a moment longer before she turns away, retreating into the warmth of her chambers.

As she closes the balcony doors behind her, shutting out the chill of the night, Rhaenyra takes one last look at the sky. The stars continue to shine, distant and unwavering, and she knows that they will be there long after she is gone, just as they were before she was born. They are a reminder of the constancy of the universe, of the passage of time, and of the fleeting nature of life.

And as she steps back into the familiar confines of her room, she carries with her the memory of you—of the love that once was, of the promises made beneath the stars, and of the bittersweet knowledge that some things are not meant to last forever.

But even in that knowledge, there is a certain beauty, a quiet acceptance. For Rhaenyra knows that, in the end, it is not the length of time that matters, but the depth of the moments shared. And though you are gone, the memory of those moments remains, a light in the darkness, a star in the sky, guiding her even now.

And so, she closes her eyes, allowing herself to rest, knowing that, wherever you are, a part of you is still with her, in the stars above, in the memories you left behind, and in the love that will never fade, no matter how many years pass.

[bkgml]

secret relationship katsuki!

mr aizawas class was targeted in yet another villain attack.

unfortunately you and your boyfriend, katsuki, were separated from each other amongst the debris and battles going on around you.

katsukis having trouble standing. his ears are ringing and he’s fading in and out of consciousness. this villain didnt hold back. he would normally be ecstatic with a fight like this, but now that he’s older, he’s matured. he knows he isn’t ready for a villain this tough. he wishes he was in bed with his sweet girlfriend instead of fighting.

his eyes begin to open.

god when did that light get so bright?

oh.

he’s not in his dorm.

“yn?” he calls as he tries to sit up.

“yn? baku-bro you feeling alright?” kirishima calls to his friend.

katsukis breathing gets shorter and more erratic.

“where is she? where’s yn? is she okay?!”

“woah woah calm down! she’s in the waiting room, she asked to come in but i figured since you guys don’t talk that much that you wouldn’t want her in here.” kirishima explains.

katsuki relaxes slightly. can’t kirishima just mind his business. you’re probably freaking out.

katsuki watched aizawa walk past his door.

“sensei! bakugous awake now.”

aizawa turns on his heel and strides into his room.

“glad to see you’re awake.”

“i need to see her.”

aizawa nods and heads towards the waiting room.

“baku-bro what’s going on with you?”

aizawa was the only one who knew of your relationship. he caught you sneaking into bakugous room one night. he almost expelled you on the spot but thought back to how much bakugou has mellowed out lately. he’ll let it slide.

you sit in the waiting room with your head in your hands. this chair is uncomfortable. your friends and your boyfriend are stuck in hospital beds and you’re worried about your chair. your leg keeps bouncing. these lights are bright. i hate the smell of hospitals. hey there’s aizawa, does he have an update?

you stand.

“sensei, what’s going on?”

“he’s awake. he wants to see you.”

you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. thank god he’s alright.

“who’s ‘he’? yn what’s going on with you?” your pink friend asks.

“can i go see him?” you ignore mina in hopes of seeing katsuki sooner.

aizawa raises an eyebrow at how you ignored your friend.

“i’ll take you.”

you and aizawa arrive at katsukis room.

“kirishima, give these two some privacy please?”

a confused kirishima passes by you.

you practically run into the room and aizawa closes the door behind you.

“katsuki.” you breathe out.

“c’mere, baby, get into bed with me.”

you laugh and hesitate even though how badly want to lay with him.

“you’re all bruised kats. besides we won’t fit.”

“shush. c’mon.” he lifts the blanket for you and you crawl in, hiding your face in his chest and nuzzling.

“don’t ever do this to me again. i almost kicked kirishimas ass to get in here.”

katsuki laughs.

“it would have been worth it. i almost had a heart attack when i woke up and you weren’t in here. thought you were hurt.”

you sigh in content.

“i’m just so happy you’re okay.”

“me too, angel.”

“awwwww.” kirishima watches from in between the shades over the window.

“i told you to give them privacy.” aizawa says.

“i didnt even know they were dating!”

“you missed all the signs then.”

[heartkyeom]

be sweet

prince!hoshi x princess!reader (svthub garden collab)

word count: 18.7k

warnings: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, modern royalty au, family issues, descriptions of food, unprotected sex

tag list (only svthub members since I’m revamping my tag list): @bitchlessdino @wondernus @idyllic-ghost @strawberryya @junkissed

notes: oh my god I finally have another fic out!! this one was truly a labor of love, thank you to all the svthub members that beta read any part of this story. this fic is for the @svthub garden collab and I am extremely grateful for the network’s help with this story <3 I’m very happy that this aligned with hoshi’s birthday! and a big big thank you to my beloved @wondernus for making this amazing header for me!!! as always, I hope y’all enjoy this and please leave feedback through reblogs !!!! and the title is based off the amazing song be sweet by japanese breakfast, listen along to it if you’d like!

The day’s events shouldn’t have felt so taxing, yet they were. There were only a few meetings you had to sit in on, both not requiring full participation. That sounded easy enough for you to handle, you were used to the rigor of royal meetings for years now.

It was easy enough to brush off any requests with a short comment of approval or neutrality, never expressing a thought of negativity unless the guest was close to your family.

You didn’t pull the princess card very often, especially since your meetings mainly consisted of fellow royals who knew the pressure of the job, but today felt different.

Maybe it was the dull pressure that resided in your head, making it hard to focus on the topics at hand. You curse yourself for not taking some kind of headache relief earlier, but now it has lodged itself in the middle of your brain.

You almost work up the nerve to speak up, but your aide beats you to it.

“Princess,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, “there's an urgent matter. We should leave immediately.” Her hushed tone makes your heart clench.

You could only hope no one in your family was hurt. You silently nod and clear your throat, bringing attention to yourself.

“I’m so sorry, but something urgent came up. I have to go, but please make sure to send me any notes and I’ll be sure to review them before we meet again,” You offer the room a small smile, enough to garner empathetic nods from the room.

You let out a shaky breath and stand from your seat, your aide trailing slightly behind your side as you both exit the room in silence.

“What’s going on?” You ask hesitantly.

“Someone has requested a private meeting with you, they asked to keep their identity a secret. Everyone in the family is okay, don’t worry,” The aide turns her head slightly to make sure she can see your response.

You can’t help but ask about your family first, it’s the only thought you have as the only child.

If someone’s passed on, you’re stepping up to handle the situation, and the emergency plans start to kick into high gear.

Luckily, that nightmare can remain at rest.

“Okay,” you nod slowly, trying to process who could want a private meeting with you.

Is an elder statesman concerned about his country? An estranged family member asking for a favor? It really could be anything or anyone.

You both keep a consistent pace through the cavernous halls of the royal estate, your footsteps echoing loudly with each step. You soon arrive at one of many conference rooms, and you’re surprised to see your aide face her back towards the door, she steps aside to let you walk in.

“I’ll be out here if you need anything, lest it escalates to that point,” She raises her eyebrows at you before looking away. That wasn’t a reassuring sign.

You brace yourself before going inside, but nothing seems to prepare you for who’s waiting.

“Hi, lovely.” Kwon Soonyoung smiles at you in a menacingly sweet kind of way, it makes your blood boil.

He’s dressed much nicer than you’re used to seeing him, he’s the type to wear baggy clothes that swallow him whole. In contrast, today he wears a crisp button-down with black slacks, his suit coat nowhere to be found. His signature designer sneakers are exchanged for loafers instead. There’s no logical reason why he could be here, considering his own busy schedule as a prince.

Soonyoung isn’t flying in for a private conversation just for the hell of it.

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance.

“That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth.

You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

Most princesses knew to let each other know that if they were charmed by him, Soonyoung was ultimately not marriage material. If anything, he was determined to make himself the least suitable husband possible.

He was the typical sweet boy turned party animal, spending most nights abroad drinking his days away with a new girl in his bed every night. He does show up to the occasional political obligation, but only when his team forces him to. That’s one reason why he bothers you so much, he has such little duty to his native country of Aranorin and the people in it that everyone else has to make him care about it.

“You’re joking, there’s no fucking way,” Your body vibrates from laughter, but you slowly come to your senses once you see he’s not cracking another joke.

“I’m not joking, I’m here to start our courtship.” His serious tone makes you start to consider the gravity of the situation.

“Hold on, so you think you can just come into Maritria, coming from god knows where,” You make a broad gesture toward him before continuing, “to formally start our relationship. That’s what you’re saying,” You cross your arms, returning to your originally defensive stance.

“Yes, this isn’t just coming out of thin air. This has been in the works for a few months now,” He raises his eyebrows to punctuate the timeline. It just makes you even more confused. Why wouldn’t anyone tell you about this?

“What do you mean?” You question.

He braces himself one last time. “I’ve been speaking to the king and queen about arranging our marriage for two months,” You almost think his face goes slightly sympathetic at his admission, but that’s wishful thinking.

Regardless, it’s a blow to your ego.

How could they not tell you? How could they so easily shift the responsibility onto him without saying a word?

It would be one thing if they were still considering other men, but to know the talks were final, that Kwon Soonyoung was your future husband whether you liked it or not, was a devastating realization.

“This is unbelievable.” You let out a shaky whisper, you’re so rattled that you force yourself to sit down and close your eyes, willing yourself to take a deep breath.

You open your eyes to see him hovering near you, clearly a stifled attempt to try and comfort you. Yet, he’s the least comforting person you’ve ever known.

“I don’t want to do this either. You’re definitely not my first choice for a wife.” He scoffs at the possibility that he could ever choose you without incentive.

“Yeah, clearly. You’d rather want a girl who would kiss your ass every day instead of being honest with you.” You retort.

The gossip that flitted between young royals all but confirmed your suspicion that he dumped any girl that tried to make a long-term connection with him. It was fine if he didn’t want to get married. Not all royals are meant for it, and he didn’t have as much pressure to marry off as the youngest child. He could get away with being a lifetime bachelor, but choosing that lifestyle wasn’t worth hurting other people in the process.

“Aw, is lifetime celibacy boring you that much to the point where you’re worried about the girls I sleep with?” He cracks a smile that you match with a forced laugh.

“No, I just think you dump them as soon as they realize how small your dick is.” You smile through your response, causing him to form his arms together.

“You’re so lucky now that we’re together, you can finally stop waiting for those nice guys who don’t have a personality to sweep you up,” His condescending tone makes you frustrated but not deterred from bantering completely.

“So I can end up dating one of your dickhead friends instead? Absolutely not,” You shake your head knowing how insufferable most of his friends are. Soonyoung just happened to be the worst of them.

“All jokes aside, I know you’re perfectly aware of why we’re getting married. I don’t have to look at the news to know things are bleak,” His straightforward approach forces you to swallow the lump in your throat.

You knew the country’s finances were not great.

You didn’t want or need to see the exact numbers, especially if it makes your day-to-day duties labored with worry. Although many political teams insist that princesses have no business in the logistical affairs of running a country, it meant everything to you to know how your country was faring in the world. Maritria already maintained a longstanding connection with Aranorin that gave your country some freedom to pursue other lucrative opportunities, but it dawned on you that it wasn’t enough.

“I’m doing this for my country, not out of some pathetic excuse you may have to avoid self-reflection. You can just get married to me and stop pretending to be a good person, right?” You ask bitingly.

“We both know I stopped pretending a long time ago. Marrying the nation’s sweetheart is just a bonus,” He smirks unapologetically, you don’t like the way the nickname sits on his tongue as if it’s his own.

“Is there anything else you want? I need to get back to work,” You stand up from your seat, trying not to look back at the door while you plot your escape. It was hard enough not to completely explode at him, and you needed to redirect your energy elsewhere.

“There is, I got you something,” He retrieves a small velvet box from his pocket. “It’s not an engagement ring, but just consider it a courtship gift.”

You open the box and lightly examine the ring. You know it’s far too expensive than most of the jewelry you’ve ever worn. Your family was wealthy, but Soonyoung’s family had the kind of money that you didn’t need to plan so carefully around. However, you don’t want to seem so easily impressed.

“It’s fine. When are you planning on proposing?” You brush him off easily.

“That ruins the surprise.” He smiles at you yet your face remains stoic.

“I’ll get your number from someone else, I don’t want to drag this out anymore.” You stuff the box in your dress pocket and start to make your way toward the exit.

“It’s been horrible to see you again, Your Royal Highness.” His stiffly formal greeting makes you turn around to face him.

You squint your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“The Royal Highness thing,” You point at yourself before continuing, “I’m not gonna say Your Royal Highness every time we’re in private. Don’t start giving a shit now.”

“Fine. Bye, darling.” He quips.

Your face contorts into disgust before you can stop yourself. “You’re not gonna make that my mandated wife nickname.”

“You don’t get to choose the nickname I give you, honey.” He approaches you and pinches your cheek before speaking, “Besides, it’ll be fun to try to figure out how to mask my hate for you in public.”

You cringe at his touches, but you straighten up immediately.

“Likewise,” You offer a tight-lipped smile before finally leaving the room.

You close the door behind you and take the breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Can you clear my schedule for the rest of the day? I need time to deal with this,” You finally look at your aide with an expectant glance.

“Yes, of course, princess.” She immediately grabs her phone to send notices to those involved. You can’t even remember who you were meant to see for the rest of the day. Your mind simply wanders to your parents, the next targets of your rage.

“I’m gonna go home. I don’t want to see anyone unless it’s my parents. Or him, not that I want him around anyways,” You roll your eyes at the thought of having to voluntarily communicate with him on a regular basis.

“Sounds good. I have his phone number, if you’d like it.” She offers.

“Ok,” You agree and quickly input his phone number. As you type in a contact name, you’re not sure what to call him.

Soonyoung is far too casual, it doesn’t feel comfortable yet. You’re absolutely not calling him by his title, not by a long shot.

The romantic pet names similar to the ones he used with you were not earned, so it left you stumped.

You settle on “headache,” because the ache in your temple is still there, bothering you immensely and now he’s adding to it.

You’re just lucky that you didn’t end up shouting at each other this time.

—

As if they could read your mind, your parents call you in for an emergency meeting before you can make it home. That pent-up rage is starting to make its way out before you even see them, it shows in the way you stomp to your father’s main office, marching far ahead of your aide.

You open the door without knocking, a major sign that you’re not looking forward to the discussion.

Your father gives you a warning look, but you’re not bothered by it. The staff turns their attention toward your bold entrance, immediately preparing themselves to leave.

Your father is sitting in his velvet study chair, poised as always. Your mother stands behind your father, idly leaning her weight against the back wall.

Her demeanor is not as composed, as if she knows you’re about to raise hell.

“We’d like a private meeting, thank you,” He gives a pained smile to the staff and they all file out silently. You watch them with a fiery gaze, waiting for the last person to close the door behind you.

When the door finally shuts, you whip your gaze to face them again.

“Soonyoung? Are you kidding me?” You exclaim.

“Y/N, please,” Your mother tries to intercept, but you’re faster than that.

“Actually, I’d like to know exactly why I was left out of the conversation about me having an arranged marriage, to begin with,” You cross your arms and lean back in your chair, preparing yourself for a bullshit excuse.

“Well, we were anticipating this kind of reaction,” he gestures at you in disapproval, “you weren’t meant to be involved in these discussions in the first place.” He speaks to you so patronizingly that it almost catches you off guard.

“So you can just decide that I’m getting married on a whim, just like that.” You snap your fingers impatiently.

“You know how the country is currently faring, you knew marriage could possibly be an option for financial security almost a year ago. Please don’t act like this is some affront to you,” Your father slowly raises his voice, fists slowly clenching as he elaborates.

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me things were this bad. You didn’t tell me that you had tried everything else. Hell, you didn’t even tell me that you were starting discussions about marriage!” You were trying your best to keep your voice even, but the defeat was starting to show through.

“We ultimately thought leaving you in the dark was best, but we miscalculated.” Your mother tries to cover for your father’s stern approach. You scoff, turning away for a moment before continuing.

Miscalculated is an understatement. You were devastated.

Your father seems to be annoyed that you were showing this much emotion while your mother seems ashamed that the situation has escalated this far. Their conflicting expressions just made you feel even worse, knowing that they couldn’t act as a united front. You wished that it was either complete anger or support from both of them.

“Soonyoung. You can’t possibly tell me he was the only option,” You turn back to them with glossy eyes.

“Sweetheart, you know Arinorin is one of our most important allies. Soonyoung would have always been an option. Even if there were better options, we couldn’t ignore him.” Her comforting tone does little to comfort you at the moment.

A tear finally falls onto your cheek. Her words hurt because she was right. Even if there was a perfect prince waiting for you out there, he wasn’t the prince of Arinorin.

“He hates me, you don’t see how much he hates me.” You shake your head and cover your face with your hands. You’re fully sobbing into your hands and it leaves your parents speechless. You know they’re looking at you with full judgment, but it didn’t matter.

“You’re giving your only daughter away to a man who despises her.” You seethe through your tears.

“He hasn’t given us any reason not to trust him.” Your father speaks up again and it breaks you down even further. He has that immovable stare on his face that signals his word is final.

You compose yourself before speaking again.

“When we get a divorce, it’ll be your fault.” You lift your hand to your cheeks, wiping away any stray tears left on your face.

“You’re being ridiculous, you’re saying that you won’t even try for your country?” Your father shifts in his seat, it seems like he wants to jump up and fully lecture you but it won’t happen.

You finally snap. “I have tried for this country! Every day, I have shown both of you what I’m capable of as a future queen, not asking you for anything. Now, the one part of my life where I should have control, choosing the person I’m married to, I have none.” By the time you finish speaking, your tears are gone by sheer will. Your eyes burn with the familiar sting of fatigue mixed with anger bubbling over the surface.

“I’m sorry, dear.” You see your mother wipe a tear of her own. You were grateful that she saw through you, at least at this moment. It was a quiet show of support that you needed amongst all these difficult feelings.

You put your head in your hands for a moment before looking up at them. “I’m going home and someone will send me the things I need to wrap my head around this entire situation.” Your tone is far more measured compared to before.

Before you can hurt your own feelings by hearing them out, you decide to make your exit. You’re nearly out of the door before you turn around again, letting go of the doorknob.

“I’ll always remember that he told me first instead of you.” With that, you leave without looking back at their expressions.

Hopefully, it’ll hurt like hell for them to hear it.

You ignore the staff members that were peering near the door, eagerly waiting to see who would break first. You’re sure that it looks dramatic, but you were far too concerned with your own feelings before anyone else’s.

—

Once you made it home, you were attempting to forget the stress of the day and it was going relatively well. You were able to catch up on a TV show you’d been forgetting to watch, and finally remembering to do self-care tasks that were left unattended due to your work.

Now, you’re taking a bubble bath with no intention of opening your eyes anytime soon. You needed to just sit, you didn’t have much time to do that most days.

The water is still fairly hot, enough to where you can sink down and continue to salvage any remaining calmness you might’ve had left.

Thus, your vibrating phone didn’t exactly make you feel at ease. You hope that it wasn’t one of your parents, considering your conversation didn’t have a clean finish. Any of their apologies would be falling on stubborn ears.

You glance at your lock screen and if anything, it’s worse.

It’s him. You pick up the phone with an anxious hand and press the accept button.

“What do you want?” You snap at him.

“You actually picked up!” He notes with a hint of surprise.

“Trust me, I didn’t want to.” You shift uncomfortably in the bathtub, the sloshing water calling you out immediately.

“Is that water? What are you doing?” His curious nature already annoys you, so it’ll be easier to dodge the question.

“None of your business.” Your free hand cups the remaining bubbles in the bath.

“Oh my god, is the princess naked on the phone with me?” He sounds far too pleased with himself. You can practically hear his shit-eating grin in the way he replies.

“You’re a horny little freak who hasn’t told me why he’s called yet.” You force yourself to sit up now that the relaxation in your body is quickly dissipating.

“Right. We’re doing intimacy coordination tomorrow. I figured you didn’t look at that schedule they gave you.”

“Shit.” You sigh just out of earshot.

Intimacy coordination isn’t common at all with arranged royal marriages. If a couple looked like they had never met before in their life, it was typically on them for not being more convincing. Yet, the number of public events you two have to be involved in over the foreseeable future warranted different circumstances. If you couldn’t look head over heels for each other at the wedding, it was going to spell trouble for both countries.

“I’m only in town until tomorrow night, so I don’t have to look at your face for much longer than that,” You sigh at his response, knowing that he’s not one to hold back with you.

“I wish you could leave sooner, maybe I could actually enjoy not seeing you even more than I already do.” You reach to open the drain.

“Just practicing my future husband duties by stressing you out, love,” You can practically hear his smile through the phone.

“That one isn’t bad, actually,” Your thoughts trail off once you hear it, but he brings you back to reality almost immediately.

“So that’s definitely not what I’m gonna call you.”

“I’m hanging up.” Your waning patience with him has officially run out and you’re itching to move on with your night.

“Bye, honey!” He’s laughing uncontrollably through the response and it makes your blood boil. It’s clear that this is already a joke to him.

“Fuck off,” You hang up before you have to listen to his laughter any longer. You put your head in your hands and let out a muffled scream.

He already wanted to make this courtship as excruciating as possible.

You finally stand up from the bath and wrap a warm towel around your body, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

Luckily, your parents did listen to your request and a massive document of schedules and timelines of your relationship with Soonyoung appeared in your email inbox.

You had only skimmed the schedule before Soonyoung called you, you stopped looking at it before it stressed you out beyond repair.

According to the timeline your parents created in accordance with his team, you were supposed to have been dating for 11 months at this point.

You can’t possibly imagine putting up a front for 11 months, but then again, you would have to pretend for the rest of your life.

That thought haunts you through the rest of your night routine.

How do you carve your life around Soonyoung when he’s creeping his way into everything?

How do you find peace when you’re with someone who’s determined to misunderstand you?

These questions have you wiping your tears as you attempt to fall asleep that night.

—

To your dismay, the intimacy training was first thing in the morning.

You were barely conscious, but somehow you arrived early with a slightly cloudy mentality and an overall dread for the next 2 hours.

You were the first of the three, besides your personal staff members, to arrive at the dance studio. You figured the space was far too big for what you were working through today, but you forego criticism to admire the room.

Admittedly, you didn’t go into many of the creative spaces throughout the palace because you weren’t a creative type. The arts were simply something you admired from afar, you didn’t have the talent even as a child to pursue these things seriously.

This apparently needed to be remedied as you notice the sweeping mirrors around the perimeter of the room. The hardwood floors were practically shining underneath your feet. You’re sure that whoever used the room was sure to enjoy themselves.

You’re admiring yourself in the mirror when you catch Soonyoung entering the room. He quietly greets the staff, giving short bows to everyone in sight.

It’s the only time you’ve seen him act with a royal demeanor, even in his casual workout clothes it’s a bit surprising to see him this way.

He makes his way over to you with a smile on his face.

“You’re early.” He eyes you up and down.

“Unfortunately, yes. You look.. comfortable.” You don’t mean to raise your voice up another octave, but you were just barely attempting niceties.

“So do you, you actually don’t look like you're trying too hard for once.” He leans against the mirror and gives you another judgmental look.

“It’s far too early in the morning to play this game, Kwon Soonyoung. Don’t get your feelings hurt.” You close your eyes before you get too angry, a slight change of pace from your typical interactions with him.

“It’s fine. I’m sure you’ll be more awkward considering you’ve only had two boyfriends, one who looked like he was your son.” He stifled a giggle.

“Chan was so sweet.” You pouted at the thought of your teenage boyfriend. He really was kind, probably the perfect first boyfriend that you could ask for. You remember how much he cried when you broke up with him. You just weren’t the same person you were when you started dating him at 16, so you needed the space to grow apart.

Unfortunately, Soonyoung was right about the mom thing.

“It’s not my fault I had a growth spurt and the stylists kept dressing me like a divorce lawyer.” You insisted.

You recalled how harsh the style blogs were on you back then, many claimed that you’d never find your own personal style as long as other people kept dressing you older than you actually were. Unfortunately, they were also right. You live and learn though.

However, you didn’t even want to think about your second boyfriend.

“I’m just saying good chemistry doesn’t come naturally to all of us, it’s okay to ask for help.” His faux concern was especially irritating.

You weren’t that awkward with men, were you?

You didn’t have much time to consider an answer before a young woman walked into the studio.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you both! My name is Elise and I’ll be leading you both through training today.” She offers her hand out to you for a handshake and you accept with a smile. She does the same to Soonyoung and moves toward the mirror.

“So, how long have you known each other?” She dives right into discussions with the question.

“Around 15 years or so?” The number that came out of your mouth was definitely a rough estimate, but it sounded about right.

You vaguely remember being introduced to Soonyoung and his older siblings at a fancy state dinner as a child. He was far less mischievous then, a bit timid around everyone except his family. Since then, you’ve ran into each other regularly due to the relationship between your parents. They were far closer to each other than you were with him and his siblings, so the situation feels a bit ironic now.

“Okay, but I’m assuming you haven’t been in contact very often?” She clarifies.

“Not at all.” He chimes in.

“Right, so we’ve got our work cut out for us then. Today isn’t gonna be too complicated, you’re just gonna be trying some physical activities to see how natural that looks.” Elise smiles in order to lighten the mood, but you’re certain it won’t work out.

“So, what are we gonna practice, hugging?” He scoffs, and you’re certain that he thinks this is all bullshit. You weren’t happy about it either, but keeping up appearances was the most important part of this.

“Yes, I know that sounds weird, but I promise it’ll pay off,” Elise continues to offer reassuring statements, but he’s not convinced and frankly, neither are you. You exchange a glance with him and decide to take the lead as the awkwardness continues to sit in the air.

“So where should we start?” You ask out of a mix of curiosity and dread.

“Let’s just have you both hold hands.”

Soonyoung extends a hand out to you with a smirk on his face. You’d rather slap him, but you’d think it would leave Elise traumatized.

You take his hand a bit too forcefully and adjust yourself within his hold. By glancing at the two of you in the mirror, you notice two things.

First, his hands are warm, a bit too warm for this moment.

Secondly, his thumb is absentmindedly brushing against the back of your hand. You can’t call attention to it or else it’ll stop, and you decide in the moment that it’s too relaxing. He probably doesn’t even notice that he’s doing something so romantic, that little bastard.

“Okay, so how does that feel?” Elise asks.

“Fine.” The reply forces itself out of your mouth.

“It’s fine.” He agrees with a nod of his head. He also peers at the both of you in the mirror with a slight curiosity, his head tilting slightly.

“We do look good together, though.” He murmurs to himself. You’re not sure if it’s the arrogance peeking through and he only believes you look good while he’s with you, but maybe for a second, you can see what he’s talking about.

“Good, and what’s a small physical gesture you can do to make each other feel at ease?” Elise’s question causes you to look up at him.

This feels unnecessary since Soonyoung is not a nervous person. No matter what, his particularly frustrating charm and gregarious personality never allow any anxiety to show to others.

“I can just do this.” He calls attention to the thumb thing and that puts you on the spot.

He seems incapable of needing comfort. It’s one of the things that keeps a silent distance between the two of you. You believe that he remains emotionally stunted in order to navigate his world a bit easier.

He can let the girls who want something more from him down easy, and they don’t realize how bad it really felt to be pushed away until they never see him again.

You didn’t want to end up in that position.

“I don’t know.” You let your mind wander for a moment.

Yet, he was bold. He was always decisive in what he wanted, never caring about what his actions made him look like if it was for better or worse.

You figured that you should be bold too.

You intertwine your fingers deeper into his grasp and pull his hand to your lips, leaving a small peck on the back of his hand.

His eyes widened immediately. “That’s quite forward, princess.”

“I needed to one-up you,” You answer nonchalantly, but you don’t miss the slight spark in his eyes. It was unexpected, and you were always going by the book.

Elise ignores your conversation and continues her questioning. “So I assume you both will be interested in PDA?”

“To a certain extent, I don't see why not.” You pull back slightly into your reserved nature, but he runs with it.

“Yes, we’re supposed to be a more open and progressive couple to represent a new generation of royals, so it would be nice to be a bit bolder,” He nods decisively along with his response.

You didn’t really think about the relationship like that until he mentioned it. While you were attuned to a certain sense of responsibility as the singular face of your country’s new generation of leadership, it was known that you fought back against regressive norms brought up in your daily work.

Why not lean into something new when the image of your respective countries so desperately needed a refresh?

“That’s good to know. I know you both have different styles, but I think there are ways we can meet in the middle here.” Elise notes.

That statement proves to be true for the rest of your session. Elise leads you both through hugging and slightly provocative gestures that make you want to crawl out of your skin, but you both fumble your way through it.

Soonyoung seems insistent on embarrassing you with more revealing gestures while yours are relatively contained. He’s being a bit too playful for your liking, but it helps you understand his personality a bit more.

You decide that you want a moment to speak with him before he flies back home later that evening, excusing Elise and the remaining staff to leave you both in the studio.

“When do we see each other again?” You ask.

“You’re a bit too eager, aren’t you darling?” He smirks at you, and you lose the slight bit of faith you had instilled in him before.

“Shut up, I’m just trying to remember this stupid schedule.” You grumble. You resort to pulling out your phone instead, quickly finding the most up-to-date iteration of the relationship timeline in your email inbox.

“I’ll be in Arinorin in a few weeks to meet your parents,” Your brain works through the schedule quickly, scanning the information fast enough to say it out loud.

“Oh shit.” He mutters under his breath.

Oh shit was right. You haven’t had a proper conversation with the king and queen since you were a teenager. It was typical family friend fare, asking how your studies were going, if your hobbies were still things you enjoyed and a faint interest in any other topics that you happened to bring up.

Since then, there were only brief interactions in passing that were fairly positive. They must’ve thought quite well of you if they agreed to have their youngest son marry you, but that was something you’d have to inquire about with them.

“And to go on a date with you,” You mumbled.

That’s what really rattled you. It wouldn’t be real until no one else was around to direct and stage your romance, it was up to the both of you to make it happen.

“Right, I’ll get to choose what we get up to.” You can tell that his brain is creating a vision that will be less than satisfactory, and you can’t fight the urge to attempt to gain control.

“We aren’t going on your yacht, are we? I think you’ve broken enough hearts there.” You tease him.

“Very funny, and no, we’re not going on the boat… anymore.” He admits with an eye roll.

“See! I knew you were gonna take me there!” You interject, letting out the laugh that had been sitting in your chest for a minute or so.

“I’m never anybody’s boyfriend, cut me some slack,” He says it as if it’d get him off the hook for being mentally checked out during this process.

That much was obvious from the lack of planning, but you’d have to give him some space to try and impress you.

“Yeah, that’s pretty clear. I know long-term planning isn’t your strength.” You bite back and he brushes it off easily.

“Get all your jokes out now, but I’m gonna impress you. Mark my words,” He points at you while heading towards the door.

“We’ll see about that, loverboy,” You check your phone absentmindedly while he sees himself out.

“Is that my nickname?” He pokes his head back into the door with an excited tone.

“Bye, Soonyoung,” You grit your teeth into a smile and watch him reluctantly leave the room.

You can only hope your future in-laws aren’t as insufferable as him.

—

A few weeks later, the trip to Arinorin has arrived and all of its possible consequences are driving you up a wall. The culmination of meeting with your future in-laws, the date with Soonyoung, and the idea of being perceived as his partner outside of your home country are all slightly nauseating.

At first, it was just fun and games, but now, as the plane lands, the tension settles beneath your skin. Soonyoung was supposed to be picking you up, but you didn’t have much faith in that happening.

You barely remembered to grab the ring he gifted you so you could wear it while you were in town, simply as a reminder that this was all happening.

You exit the plane with your luggage in tow, only for Soonyoung to be waiting on the tarmac. He’s accompanied by a large black SUV that is clearly not his personal car, but his stance is trying to convince you that it is.

“Hi, princess.” He calls out with a wave of his hand.

“When are you gonna actually call me by my name?” You approach him with squinted eyes, your vision steadily adjusting to the early afternoon sun.

“When this feels less awkward, so give or take a few years,” He jokes.

“Not funny,” You gesture to him to take your luggage, and he catches the hint once you look at him again. You don’t want to shoulder smaller tasks onto his staff, you wanted to see how he would handle these things instead.

“How was the flight?” He calls out to you again, you hear the trunk slam shut and he comes into view again to anticipate your answer.

“It was alright, I’m just tired.” You rub at your temples to punctuate the feeling.

“Hopefully your room will be good enough,” He sounds somewhat considerate while opening the door for you. It feels wrong.

You slide into the back row with him following behind you. He shuts the door and his driver promptly begins the drive to the palace.

“Are you nervous about the trip? My parents aren’t exactly as kind as yours,” Soonyoung chuckles.

You let out a deep sigh. You wouldn’t call them kind considering the circumstances, in fact, you’re barely on speaking terms with them outside of public obligations.

Was it petty? Yes.

Was it also justified? Yes.

You figured that icing them out for a while would help them come to their senses. If worst comes to worst, maybe it could help you gain further control over the wedding.

Nevertheless, you were still upset with them.

“They’re really not that great, and I’d say that I’m pretty good with parents,” You avoid his glance to look out the window instead, taking in the sights of the country.

You don’t have many memories of Arinorin. Many of them were informed by meetings that you couldn’t even remember anymore.

“You’re right. The nation’s sweetheart can charm anyone. Plus it’ll give me time to think about what we’re gonna do on the date,” He affirms with a nod of his head.

“God, don’t remind me. If I’m lucky, we’ll be meeting at a strip club.” You roll your eyes.

“You really have no faith in me!” He pouts. You don’t give into him though.

“It's hard enough just being in a car with you.”

—

Soonyoung doesn’t ever have to think about first dates.

In fact, he doesn’t think he’s been on a proper first date since he was a teenager. Even then, it was low stakes. He could just pick something random for him and another girl to do, and it would be completely inconsequential to his life.

Now, impressing his future wife with an incredible first date feels monumental. He barely knew anything about you besides that goody two shoes personality of yours. It seemed like everyone was suddenly obsessed with you and he was the last to know.

He decides that a midday picnic is inoffensive enough for the both of you to enjoy. If either of you were miserable with each other, there would at least be good food to distract from it. The sunny weather was already on his side, now he just had to charm you.

You waved slightly as you approached his picnic blanket, stopping before your feet could cover the edge of the blanket.

“Wow, this is a lot,” Your eyes landed on the assortment of food spread across the blanket. There was a spread of fruit, snacks, and sandwiches for the two of you to eat together. Soonyoung knew he didn’t completely fuck up by the way you nodded, but you weren’t exactly jumping to praise him in general.

“I don’t get a hello?” He attempts a greeting but it falls flat.

You roll your eyes. “Hi, Soonyoung,” You state halfheartedly, crossing your arms in protest.

“Hi. Does the food look alright?” He takes off his sunglasses and fixes his gaze on you.

“Yeah, I figured you’d be inept at setting up a date, so it’s surpassed my expectations already,” You give him a tight-lipped smile before sitting on the blanket. He attempts to ignore the way your dress hikes up slightly to expose your thigh. The sundress that you’re wearing seems to expose every detail of your body that he’s neglected to look at, but he snaps back into focus when he hears you clear your throat.

Once you both start eating, it’s clear how little you have in common with each other. Sure, he figured it’d be a little difficult to get to know you, but the lingering silence doesn’t exactly make him eager to strike up a conversation.

“How do you feel about all this?” You ask suddenly. It catches him so off guard that he chokes on the piece of fruit he was chewing.

He coughs, raising the attention of the nearby guards. You turn to them, giving a signal that he’s okay before turning around. “Damn, I didn’t think the question was that bad,” You laugh sadly.

“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t expect it.” He waves off any suspicion.

He takes a deep breath. “I mean, I’m not thrilled. I know the economic aspect of this is the most important thing, but my parents are practically dying to marry me off,” He reaches for a bottle of wine, grabbing a nearby glass before pouring himself something to drink.

“So I’m not the first?” You ask.

“Absolutely not,” He snickers. This relationship would mark the 5th time his parents have tried to set him up with a fellow royal. He has managed to sabotage all previous attempts on account of pissing his parents off.

The girls they set him up with were nice enough, but he had no chemistry with any of them. He felt like sparing them from a relationship full of misery by ruining it before it even started.

“So your parents figured you wouldn’t want to escape a marriage instead of just dating?” You attempt to clarify.

“Bingo,” He sips his wine before handing you the bottle.

“So, does that mean you’re gonna try to escape this?” You accept it and pour yourself a fuller glass, immediately taking a sip after asking the question.

“I think you’d be pretty fucked if I tried to do that. I’m not that much of an asshole,” He shakes his head and laughs it off. Since being hated by his parents was bad enough, Soonyoung didn’t want to become the center of an emerging geopolitical crisis.

It would fuck everyone over, especially you. He could at least admit to himself that you didn’t deserve that.

“That’s nice, I guess,” You smile halfheartedly at him.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.” He speaks in an unusually flat tone before turning away to face the view of sprawling hills and seemingly endless mountaintops. The sight of the burgeoning nature surrounding the houses below him brought a sense of peace.

Before you asked, he hadn't given the entire arranged marriage process much thought. Sure, he knew that you’d be getting married relatively soon, but he had no idea how to present himself as a good partner. He didn’t exactly know how to move forward knowing that everyone expected him to fail.

“You really are a dickhead,” You mumble.

“You’re not exactly sweet as pie either. Everyone loves you, but you’re fucking miserable to be around.” He responds in a piercing tone.

“Well, if you get to be a cunt, then so should I. It’s not like I’m getting anything out of this,” You shoot back.

You were definitely worse off as an only child. Sure, he was the black sheep of the family, but he could get away with plenty of things as the youngest. His siblings were off impressing the world by ruling the country, getting PhDs, having a shit ton of kids, and generally being upstanding citizens.

However, it didn’t make sense for him to try that hard.

“Your country’s finances won’t go to shit, isn’t that enough?”

His question seems to bring out another layer of frustration for you. “No, I want a husband who gives two shits about me past my bra size, but apparently that’s wishful thinking,” You angrily bite into a strawberry and turn away from him.

“Look, we don’t have to do anything except pretend that we’re in love. So, let’s not do anything past that. Alright?” He proposes. Your face is unreadable, but the way you chew on the inside of your lip shows that he’d never get to know what’s eating away at you.

“Alright,” Your body language seems to retreat completely.

The mood of the date is different after that, and his request seems to render you both silent as you eat the rest of the food without interacting. The view of the countryside makes him wish that he didn’t have to deal with any of this, just live in a tiny house where no one had to remind him about his impending marriage.

—

The entire day leading up to the Youth Summit Ball left you feeling incredibly rattled.

You know the staff is perfectly capable of executing your vision for the ball as they've done year after year. It was one of your signature events as a royal, and its annual presence in Maritria brought much-needed attention to the country with the presence of young royals and its ever-popular red carpet.

Tonight, however, would be the first time Soonyoung is escorting you as a “longtime” boyfriend in public. You’ve been seen together in public, yes, but this is a public declaration that you are hypothetically in love with him. As a co-chair of the event, nothing could go wrong since many of your peers would be attending with their families.

Nothing could go wrong, thus you needed him to know the extent of your anxiety.

You heard a knock on the door, and you’re accepting them inside without a second thought.

“You wanted to see me?” He asks as he steps inside the dressing room.

You’re thrown by how handsome he looks. You argued with each other over text about what he should wear, he insisted that it didn’t matter. Yet, your color palettes were not to be betrayed. You internally thank yourself for persisting with a navy suit. It contrasted well with his platinum-blonde hair that seemed to attract as many eyes as possible while you were out in public together.

“Yes, I did. You need to behave tonight, I’m not risking anything because you want to get your dick wet,” You scoff.

“Trust me, I already got this little lecture from your mother. I’ll be fine.” He smirks at you, not doing much to quiet the anxiety that was starting to build in your stomach.

“Well, your girlfriend is telling you herself that I’m serious about this,” Your hands automatically move up to his shoulders, smoothing out the nonexistent creases on his jacket. It was still weird to call yourself his girlfriend, the word felt too stiff coming from your mouth.

“And I’m reluctantly listening,” He moves his hand to your bare shoulder, brushing something off with a few light sweeps. You opted to wear a black form fitting gown, the design was relatively simple but it was still eye-catching. You thought you noticed Soonyoung taking glances at you.

“Do you remember everything I told you about tonight?” You remind him.

“Why wouldn’t I remember, Y/N?” He gives you that “are you serious” kind of look and you’re starting to buckle under the pressure.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re nervous or something,” You turn away from him, peering into the mirror to check if there are any flaws with your makeup.

“I don’t get nervous about stuff like this. Are you nervous?” You see him approaching, but you put your focus immediately back on your face.

“What? No, stop, I’m fine,” You purse your lips to check your lipstick. He mimics you, pushing his lips out like a duck and it startles you.

“Those cheeks of yours are telling me otherwise,” He rubs a finger on your cheek and you slap it away almost immediately.

“Stop, Soonyoung, I’m serious. Let’s just get through the night.” You shoot him a warning look and he puts his hands up defensively.

“Okay, no funny business. I promise,” He smiles. It’s not enough to convince you, but your mind is too focused on creating a good outcome for the night that it’s fruitless trying to argue with him any further.

“Ready for a good time?” He offers his hand out to you, and you reluctantly accept it.

“It sounds bad when you say it.”

—

“You know, she said we should kiss just once to see what it’s like,” His voice was slightly slurred as if the alcohol was slowly taking possession of his words.

“You’re just tipsy,” You throw your purse across the living room and fumble to lock the door shut.

“No, you are, I saw you sneak two shots out of the kitchen,” He points with a shocked smile, “plus a few glasses of chardonnay. You’re not fooling me, princess.”

He was probably right, but that didn’t make it any better. “God forbid that I wanna drink at my own event. Why are you at my place right now?” You’re irritated at his presence almost constantly.

“You wanted me to do everything for you, remember? So you could just hop into bed with no worries,” He waves his arm into the air.

The event went well, accounting for your drunkenness and Soonyoung’s unpredictable nature.

“What are you waiting for then? Take my shoes off,” You flail your arms helplessly, your body is slowly slumping forward but Soonyoung catches you before you stumble.

“Okay, let's sit down, miss bossy. You’re ordering me around when I was a perfect boyfriend tonight,” He guides you to your couch, slowly easing you down onto the seat when you let out an audible sigh of relief.

“You were an average boyfriend who didn’t look stupid in front of paparazzi. Don’t feel too proud of yourself.” Your tolerance for his shenanigans was lower than usual now that you were drunk, and you didn’t feel bad about fighting back at him.

“All of this is extra credit,” He tries to reason himself out of the bare minimum.

“Taking care of me is not extra credit, it’s the standard. You’re supposed to be taking care of me for the rest of my life, not just right now. Idiot,” You roll your eyes and close them briefly before his voice forces you awake again.

“You’re so mean to me, your poor boyfriend is still learning what you like,” He finally takes off your heels and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Better?” He asks with a smile. You know that he wants to laugh at you so badly, but you’re too far gone to care.

“Much better,” You close your eyes for a moment before snapping again. “Take off my jewelry.”

He removes your earrings quite easily, but you still feel a bit flustered when he leans toward your ear to focus on undoing the clasps of your necklace.

He settles his face near your neck to fully remove your diamond necklace, he cradles it in his hand and you think you might go slightly insane. He places it on the coffee table gently and looks back at you with a smirk.

“What’s going on?” You pick up on his expression.

“Nothing, I’m gonna do your hair.” He turns your body so your back is facing him now. He’s sort of just feeling around for bobby pins, placing them down on the coffee table whenever he pulls another out. Once he takes out the decorative pins near the top of your head, your hair finally feels free.

“Soonyoung?” You ask suddenly.

“Hmm?” He’s organizing all the hairpins but takes a moment to look up at you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Your voice is a bit timid, nervous about how he might react. You would’ve contained yourself in any other circumstance, but now you just needed to head that you were worth complimenting.

“Where’s all this coming from, you’re just fishing for compliments now,” He shakes his head with a smile on his face.

“No, I’m not. It’s just-,” Your thoughts trail off, but Soonyoung catches your attention again with a gentle hand on your thigh. You don’t jump to move it away.

“Everybody was looking at us, but some people looked at us like I wasn’t meant to be with you. Is that true? Am I not pretty enough to be with you?” You feel increasingly insecure the more you elaborate. You didn’t think you’d feel this upset about it, but it meant your work was failing. You weren’t a believable couple and it was obvious to you now.

“Y/N, don’t say that. You’re beautiful,” His voice is noticeably softer.

“Not beautiful enough to sleep with. You wouldn’t sleep with me,” You rub your eyes with your hands and Soonyoung removes them from your face, laughing at the traces of makeup on the sides of your fingers. It seems like he still caught what you said though when he stops laughing.

“And that’s not the point. You’re just saying shit now, all of the guys in there would be lucky to even kiss you,” He insists. He stands up suddenly and walks toward your room. You assume he gets up to find makeup wipes, but you sit with his statement in the meantime.

You contemplate if you’d even want to kiss any of the royals who came to the party. You knew your standards were high and wondered if that would chase them off before they even had a chance to kiss you. He comes back and immediately wipes across your face the moment he sits down. His approach is slightly rough, but you couldn’t exactly get mad at him. He was just doing what you asked of him.

He’s analyzing if he got all of the makeup off when you speak up.

“But you’re not lucky?” You remark quietly.

That makes him clear his throat. You can even spot a hint of blush across his cheeks. It appears that you’ve riled him up slightly.

“I am lucky,” He lowers his head to rub the back of his neck with his hand, “You give me a run for my money.”

“Show me how lucky you are.” You continue to tempt him to see how he’ll react.

“I thought you wanted me to behave tonight?” He’s almost willing to act, but he still waits for your approval.

“I do, but she said we should kiss for practice,” You swallow lightly in anticipation. He rests his forehead against yours and you can hear his breath hitch in his throat.

You’ve been good, you’ve been so good all of your life. You don’t think you’ve done anything worth batting an eye at for your entire adolescence and young adulthood, but it was exhausting.

It was exhausting to be good, the voice of reason, the example of a perfect daughter to your country.

You weren’t in love with him, absolutely not.

Yet, the curiosity about what his lips tasted like made you want to be rebellious.

“I didn’t think you heard me.” He chuckled softly.

“I did,” You nodded your head against his. Soonyoung didn’t ask for permission to be bad, he just did it. That’s what runs through your brain when your lips meet his. Neither of you move for a moment and you’re afraid that you messed up.

That is until you feel Soonyoung’s hand cradling the back of your neck. He’s tilting into the kiss and you know he’s comfortable by the way his tongue slips into your mouth.

He tastes like tequila mostly, but there’s a hint of sweetness that you suspect comes from the dessert table at the party.

It feels so much better than you expected, now you know why girls couldn’t get enough of him. Even if it is just practice, he still took it far more seriously than you expected.

You haven’t had many kisses that were worth remembering, but this was something spectacular.

You know he’s kissed people far more times than you have, but there’s still a hesitant energy there that you can’t describe.

Did you make him nervous?

He pulls away first and it surprises you. He takes a deep breath and looks at you with tired eyes.

“Just a practice kiss, right?” He whispers.

“Just practice.” You affirm, pulling your head back. You’re not sure why it felt so disappointing to not have another kiss. You were sobering up which made the realization even worse.

“I’ll leave now before you kick me out.” He stands up from the couch and you don’t follow him. He makes it to the door and turns around.

“Don’t stay up all night reading thinking you can fight a hangover, go to bed.” He points at you with a teasing finger.

“Don’t lecture me, Kwon Soonyoung.” You stand up and walk toward your bedroom, ignoring whatever expression is on his face. You don’t look back until you hear the front door shut.

He didn’t say goodbye and that was probably for the best. You didn’t need any other memory from this part of the night to linger in your brain.

You rush back to the living room to lock the door again and sulk back to your bedroom. You eye the novel on your bedside table, you left it there earlier in the day to pick up whether you ended up drunk from the party or not.

Damn, he was good.

—

There were now multiple days, even weeks, between your shared schedules with him, and the more time that went by after the kiss only made you want to see him again.

Of course, he was friendly to you in public, and you were both able to handle public events with ease, but

the timing left you with many questions, and one stuck out in particular.

Why was he nervous to kiss you?

Today, he requested a private schedule for the two of you before he left Maritria early next week. There was a sneaking suspicion that it was the proposal since there wouldn’t be another reason for you to be alone.

He never wants to be left alone with you, it’s all about putting on an act for others that makes it so thrilling for him.

That’s what you try to tell yourself, at least.

“You’re here,” He eyes you carefully as you approach the entrance of the private garden. He’s surrounded by endless blooms, it’s almost suffocating how romantic it’s supposed to feel.

“I’m here because you want me here,” You offer quietly.

“Right, well I don’t want to waste any time. I’m sure my princess has lots of work to do today.”

On any other day, he’d be right, but the underlying suspicion of his true intentions made you want to linger.

He grabs your hand before you have another second to contemplate your feelings.

“I know that I’m not the person you wanted this to be from, but that’s how things have turned out. We both can’t get what we want, but I want to make this a good memory for us regardless of the situation.”

He gets down on one knee before asking. “So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

His hands held a small black velvet box and he quickly opened it to reveal a stunning oval shaped diamond ring. There are definitely more carats than you've ever seen on an engagement ring, and the gold band it sits upon feels equally regal.

It almost makes you sick from how ornate and gaudy it is, but it’s yours.

“You know this is the part where you say yes,” He clears his throat.

“Give me a second,” You mumble. You can’t see his glance, instead choosing to look at the ring. Everything else felt like a game before, but this was real.

He is proposing to you, offering a ring to you to signify a love that wasn’t actually real. That kind of sappy affectionate love you dreamed of would never come to fruition, possibly for the rest of your life.

It’s a realization that is entirely too bleak for the moment.

You’re meant to be happy, but if your parents were here they’d pick apart how long it took you to respond.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” You force a smile onto your face to appease him. It doesn’t seem like he notices the pained expression within it, only offering a content sigh.

“Great.” He rises to his feet to place the ring on the appropriate finger. It feels like it’s all over now, you can imagine the rest of your future laid ahead of you on a set path.

The thought of taking constant publicity trips as a couple, having future heirs to the throne, and the idea of bringing him into Maritria’s lineage makes you wonder if you did everything you could to save yourself.

There is no out, just you, him, and the impenetrable distance between you both.

You wonder how a couple might build a life with an unstable foundation.

“Should we kiss?” His question brings you back to your senses.

“What?”

“For the camera, we should kiss.” He points to a photographer making themselves known from a nearby bush.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

This is your duty, right?

You pull him close and kiss him, trying to ignite the small spark you felt when he was at your apartment.

Yet, the feeling doesn’t come and you pull away from him gently after a few moments.

“We just need some photos for social media and then you’re free to go.” The photographer reassures you with a kind tone.

You snap into professional mode in order to speed up the process. Your hand rests on his chest, angling it slightly to show off the ring. You force a smile, trying to indulge in the fantasy of it all. Once he gets a few shots of that pose, you turn back to look into Soonyoung’s eyes.

He was unfortunately quite handsome, it’s a shame that nothing else about him could make you happy.

“What are you thinking about?” His questioning pulls you out of your head once again, but you’re not sure what to tell him.

Being honest with him means making a sweet moment uncomfortable, and lying to him means letting your pain continue to simmer.

You go for the latter, to spare everyone a difficult moment. “Nothing. The ring is beautiful,” You shift the conversation with a quiet tone in order to deflect the topic off of you. He smiles widely, his face tells you that he didn’t expect you to like it one bit.

“I let my team take the reins with it since I don’t know you that well.” He responds so earnestly, and you’re not sure if he understands how hurtful that sounds.

You take it in stride though. “Well, it’s beautiful.”

He only nods and takes a moment to adjust his suit jacket.

You watch him brush over the fabric with his hands, wondering how in the world you ended up here. Even if things were different, fate would probably still bring you into Soonyoung’s orbit in another way.

Regardless, it’s enough to make you even more upset. Once the photographer is satisfied with the variety of shots, you’re about to leave when you feel Soonyoung’s hand touch your shoulder.

“Hey.” He turns your body to face him with his hand. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand in front of him without crying.

“We’re still on for this weekend, right?”

You can’t be bothered to remember what he means, but it’s best just to agree. It’s not like you had much of a choice.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.” You nod at him before leaving. The moment you turn your back, you can’t hold back the stray tears falling onto your cheeks. You can only hope that he can’t hear your sniffling.

—

Now that the proposal news was officially out, your life had an even bigger microscope on it than usual. You’re used to being judged on a public scale, however, there were millions of people who were obsessed with Soonyoung that now wanted to know every single piece of information about his new fiancée.

Your Instagram posts and tweets had an influx of new activity that you could barely keep up with, and the new attention was starting to work into every corner of your life, even the time you spent with Soonyoung.

“Can you tell your fans to stop making video edits of me?” You stuff your phone into your jacket pocket in slight annoyance. You were genuinely trying to enjoy the private dates you had with Soonyoung, even if they were heavily guarded by staff. It was only right that you treated these outings as the dates they were, opportunities to get to know him better in order to connect with him that would hopefully prevent any issues further down the line.

Today, the location of the date was your choice and the staff had elected to leave you alone in light of the proposal news. Thus, you decide to take Soonyoung to a small beach on the outskirts of Maritria’s capital city. You’ve spent many days throughout your teenage years in your favorite spot, a cove in a hidden part of the beach. You figured that it’d be smart to let him in on a few things that you enjoyed, namely one of your most treasured spots in the country.

“That means they like you, and since when are you afraid of attention?” His interest is now piqued as he places his head in his hand to face you.

“Since always, I’m not exactly a Kwon Soonyoung-level attention whore,” You scoff.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” He speaks in an exaggerated sad tone, accompanied by his pretending to cry. He turns his head to face you, sunglasses attempting to hide the goofiness peeking through.

“Still, I mean this is all a lot. I’m not exactly important enough to warrant 700,000 new followers.” You attempt to redirect the conversation.

As soon as the remark leaves your mouth, Soonyoung takes his sunglasses off. He looks at you with a confused glance, as if your self-deprecation was a personal attack on him.

“What are you talking about? You’re a princess and a genuinely nice one at that. That’s pretty hard to come by these days,” He compliments you. It pulls at your heartstrings very slightly, enough to absentmindedly check for a blush on your cheeks before snapping out of it.

“You wouldn’t know, you don’t see anything past the title before you sleep with these girls,” You attempt to defuse the response again, but he’s prepared.

“First of all, those days are behind me. I’m a proper engaged man now,” His thumb grazes your engagement ring and it sends a chill down your spine.

“And second, that statement is funny coming from someone who’s marrying me for financial stability,” He pokes your shoulder and you move to cover it.

“Correction, my country’s financial stability. You’ll have to get used to living here once we’re married,” You clarify.

“Who said we’re living in Maritria?” He argues instantly. You let out a sigh and try to understand the perspective he’s going to bring up.

“Soonyoung, wouldn’t it be smart to show how much the country’s condition would improve with you here?”

“Yes, but imagine being in Arinorin. The optics of giving you away to the country that saved yours seem pretty positive to me.” He suggests. While idealistic, the perspective is shortsighted. He didn’t necessarily have a shining future back in his home country considering his reputation and lack of communication with his parents.

“Even though you’ll never be king?” You didn’t mean for the question to sound so mean, but it’s true.

He was not the country’s future king, not unless there were dire circumstances that would force him into the position.

He scoffs. “Way to rub it in.” He looks into the distance, not acknowledging your glance anymore.

“I’m just saying. At least here, you’ll have the chance to have more of the public’s attention. There’s nothing to fight over, it’s just me,” You add sympathetically.

There’s a lingering silence that you don’t want to fill for the moment. You can tell he’s mulling over your words by the way he’s looking down at his hands, playing with his sunglasses idly.

“You know, you don’t have to stay there. Not to be that person, but if the idea of staying makes you feel worse, then what’s the point?” You soften your tone in an attempt to bring him back.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” He shakes his head resolutely. You feel your window of opportunity to try and comfort him closing rapidly.

“Ok, you’re right, but I’ve kept up with the news. I know a bit about how my future in-laws have treated you. You’ll be okay here,” You place a hand on his shoulder.

“I think they’ve wanted me to leave for a while, honestly. I’d go somewhere where they don’t have to think about me anymore.” He scratches the back of his neck before focusing on a small tidepool that sat directly below the both of you.

His statement is enough to now squeeze his shoulder, gently rubbing it to show your support.

“I’m sorry.” You offer quietly.

“It’s not your fault. I don’t think being a problem child fits me very well anymore.”

“You can reinvent yourself here if that sounds alright with you?” You offer and he laughs quietly.

He smirks. “I’ll think about it,” His slightly hopeful tone makes you feel at ease.

Any true affection toward him still feels too foreign, but verbal reassurance is a step you’re willing to take if it means your shared future is relatively peaceful.

—

The trips back and forth to each other’s countries were becoming a blur of wedding planning, being present at each other’s public engagements, and trying to get to know each other. It was becoming such a tedious process that any opportunity to rest was taken without hesitation.

The big plan for the current trip to Arinorin was to have a joint dinner with both of your immediate families.

You waited endlessly, but Soonyoung never showed up for dinner. It was embarrassing trying to subtly figure out where he was by going to the bathroom and frantically texting him. When that didn’t work, calls went unanswered until you were forced to give up and return to the table in defeat. He wasn’t answering and you were left to deal with two confused families on your own, attempting to answer questions that you had no answers to. Dinner eventually proceeded with an unyielding amount of attention on you, but thankfully, the rest of his family seemed to accept you.

Yet, it was ultimately embarrassing to attempt to cover his tracks and defend his actions throughout the night.

Thus, your post-dinner plans were to relax in your room and attempt to forget how wild the night had been. A knock on the door interrupted those plans almost immediately.

You open the door to see one of the guards that have been assigned to you since the arranged marriage proceedings had begun.

“Sorry to bother you, princess. I’ve just received word of a disturbance with the prince downstairs that needs your attention.” His tone was especially solemn, so you didn’t want to leave him waiting for long.

“Alright, I’ll be ready in a minute.” You nod at him and thank your lucky stars that you’ve already changed into more comfortable clothing.

With his assistance, you were soon traveling through the endless halls of the castle to find your fiancé. It wasn’t long before he came into view, sitting on a bench with his legs tucked up to his chest, arms wrapped around the front with his hands clasped tight. He was clearly drunk, sighing to himself before looking up.

“Y/N! Hi!” He exclaims, waving at you wildly.

“Fucking hell,” You exhale under your breath. You’re extremely grateful that he wasn’t out wandering the streets, clearly under careful watch by his guards.

“Can you give us a moment?” You look around at the surrounding guards. They nod curtly and dismiss themselves, retreating to a nearby room where they could still intervene quickly if needed.

You turn your attention back to him once the door closes. “Where were you?”

“I was out with Seungkwannie and, um, Seokmin. It was so much fun,” He laughed brightly, eyes almost disappearing from his smile.

“We were supposed to have dinner with our families. Remember?” You hold onto your curt tone.

He shakes his head immediately. “They didn’t wanna see me, they don’t care about me.”

You were starting to lose your patience. While you understood his hesitation to face his family, it wasn’t an excuse to leave you to navigate so many different dynamics on your own. This was supposed to show your families all of the efforts that had been made thus far, and there were plenty of efforts that were beginning to show naturally.

He had become more affectionate in public, it was less uncomfortable to smile at him and speak with each other kindly. It wasn’t real, obviously not, but unsuspecting eyes wouldn’t have known any better.

You were almost visibly in love.

“How about how I feel, Soonyoung? I had to deal with everyone alone, deal with everything by myself. That was so hard for me, but you just ignored it and got drunk.” Your voice was tight, barely allowing yourself to feel anything besides anger.

“I’m sorry,” He sighs before running through his hair. He’s affected by it, as his posture starts to wilt like a dying plant.

“You should be. That hurt my feelings a lot,” You felt the intended venom of your words dissipate on your tongue until nothing was left.

What was the point in yelling when he wouldn’t remember any of it anyways?

Honestly, you were disappointed in him. You had earnestly tried to connect with him, and it finally felt like he was trying to do the same thing. Yet, he let you down. You didn’t ask for much of him and adjusted your expectations for him at every step of the way, but he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t be better for you.

“Was being selfish,” His pout seems to get deeper somehow.

“Yeah, you were,” You whisper. You finally take a seat next to him on the bench, taking a deep breath. The silence between the two of you almost felt labored, as if the air held all of the emotions you were both feeling at once.

You shouldn’t be babysitting your fiancé like this, that much was true. If he couldn’t even attend a family dinner, what did that mean for the marriage?

“You don’t have to worry about the wedding. I’ll take care of everything,” You mutter quietly.

“What?” He sits up in surprise.

“I can’t trust you, Soonyoung. You don’t care about this and you clearly don’t care about me, so why would I let you plan any part of this?”

“I can try, just let me try,” He pleads quietly. You can feel the desperation in his tone, but you can’t budge.

“I’ve let you try and this is what happens. I don’t know if this is how you picture our marriage, but if this is it then consider us strangers. I can’t do this, not like this.” You can’t look at him as you stand up.

Your body goes into autopilot as you knock on the door where the guards are stationed, letting them out so you can both separate for the night. You gently request for him to be taken home before starting the journey back to your room, wiping away tears that welled up in your eyes without a second thought.

You hear him calling your name, but what point is there in turning around? You didn’t have the energy for drunk pleas and broken promises anymore.

If you couldn’t stop everything and everyone from falling apart, you could at least try to protect yourself from the wreckage.

—

For the first time, Soonyoung hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

It never felt good to be ignored by anyone, but getting ignored by you? It had to be a new kind of pain.

Despite his unbothered facade, he didn’t mind your company at all. He quite enjoyed your little quirks, small things that other people probably wouldn’t notice.

In the chaos of your intertwined schedules, there were moments where he’d just look at you to take in your features for himself, and not anyone else.

He loved seeing how peaceful you looked while you slept during flights or the way your cheeks lifted when you smiled. Since he couldn’t have you to himself often, he could hold solace in the smaller moments.

Admittedly, he had been in love with you for a while now, and he could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized it.

He mentioned to you offhandedly that he’d lost a beloved stuffed tiger toy as a kid, but he’d accepted the loss and attempted to move on. He didn’t think you’d remember the anecdote, much less do anything about it.

Yet, you handed him a silver gift bag while on a flight with him.

When he unwrapped the tissue paper to the sight of the exact make of the tiger he had, his heart momentarily stilled in awe.

“I found the original manufacturer and they still make them. The certain model you had is a collector’s item now, so it took a little while to find but it wasn’t impossible.” You explained everything calmly, your hand propped your head up on the armrest of your seat. You lazily smiled at him as he admired it in his hands.

“This is very kind of you, thank you,” He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

His parents hadn’t thought of trying to replace it for him after all these years, and he surely didn’t expect it from you. The gesture is just so romantic, even if you just wanted to write it off as simply a nice thing to do.

He didn’t cry until he was alone after the day’s activities were finished, realizing just how important it was to him. You were so nice, much nicer than he deserved from his future wife given his standoffish behavior.

There was no reason why he couldn’t confess his true feelings to you at this point. The wedding was fast approaching, sooner than he’d like to admit.

Details about the ceremony were quickly ironed out between your shared staff before he could think twice about asking, and you held to your word that he wasn’t allowed to get involved in wedding planning.

He didn’t remember much from the night you found him drunk, but it was clear that wedding planning was off-limits and you were extremely wary of being alone with him. Thus, he had to make his apology meaningful, and he couldn’t wait until after the wedding. He was determined to mend the relationship before you walked down the aisle.

He started by sending you various bouquets, all carefully chosen by him.

That was a kind gesture, right?

He thought so until he saw you throwing one of the bouquets into a dumpster from afar.

All of his apologetic texts to you were swiftly ignored as well, forcing him to switch gears completely. It was clear that you were subtly hinting at an in-person apology, which was daunting but not impossible for him to do.

He hadn’t been back to your apartment since the night of the Youth Summit Ball, a major oversight on his part. Yet, he figured there was no better time than the present to start taking things more seriously.

He held the bouquet of white and red carnations tightly in his hand, fingers playing gently with the paper wrapping as he sat in his car.

He was optimistic that the rain would hold out until he was hopefully let into your apartment. Yet, he ignored the raindrops periodically hitting his raincoat as he walked up the stairs to your brownstone.

The moment he knocked on the door, it was as if the universe decided to fuck him over. The occasional raindrops turned into a full downpour, and he scrambled to figure out what to do with himself. There wasn’t any awning to hide under, so he attempted to conceal the flowers from the rain, unzipping his jacket enough to sit the damp bouquet on his chest before zipping it up again.

It felt like a lifetime before you opened the door, and the sight of you rendered him speechless.

This was the first time in so long that he was facing his fear of resolving the neverending conflicts in his life.

“Hi.” He smiles despite your unreadable expression.

“Hi,” You were confused, rightfully so. After passive-aggressively sending indirect apologies, he decided to skip everything else and just show up.

“Are you busy?”

“No, but I don’t think I have a choice,” You move to the side so that he can enter your apartment. He takes the cue and makes himself comfortable in the living room.

“These are for you.” He hands the flowers to you, and the hesitancy is clear on your face.

“You aren’t giving up on the flowers, are you?” You ask with a judgmental tone. He doesn’t feel completely deterred when you place them on the dining table instead of throwing them out.

“Well, these are your favorite.”

“This doesn’t bail you out, you know.” You give him a knowing look.

He sighs, steadying his breath before speaking. “I know, and you deserve an apology for everything.” When he notices that you're focusing intently on his words, he feels confident about continuing.

“I know that I’ve made you feel isolated, and I’m truly sorry for that. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this, and I want to make this marriage work. You deserve to marry someone who’s willing to admit their mistakes and grow with you. I’m ready to be that person if you want me.” By the time he finishes, he knows that he was completely honest with you. He’s wanted to be upfront with you for so long, but it wouldn’t have been worth it if he didn’t express himself properly.

You let out a contemplative sigh. He could tell that you didn’t want to reject him, it’s as if your face was processing his statement just as swiftly as your brain.

“As much as I appreciate this, I don’t want to be in a loveless marriage.” You said.

He swallows lightly, but he’s still understanding of your perspective. He knew that he had to lay everything out for you before it was too late.

“Who said it was loveless?” He says.

“What?”

The revelation seems to catch you off guard, but it's not surprising to him. Soonyoung is a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, and this kind of confession feels completely out of his emotional range.

“I love you, and I should've told you sooner. I regret not proving that you could trust me, and you have every right to not have any faith in me.” He walks toward you, internally pleading that the lack of distance will help you change your mind.

“I do have the right,” You mutter under your breath with a chuckle. He lifts your chin slightly with his finger, forcing your eyes to meet his again.

“I will prove to you every day for the rest of my life that I love you.” His eyes are completely sincere, showing that he’s willing to provide the romance that you’ve been grasping for. He can tell that you can’t let him in this easily, he has to earn you completely.

“Every day?” You question him.

“Every single day,” He reiterates. He means it too, his mind was already thinking of dozens of ways that he could start making it up to you.

“That’s pretty tempting, honestly.” You tilt your head in curiosity.

“Anything holding you back?”

“I don’t think so. You just can’t keep coming into my apartment soaking wet anymore,” You scrunch your nose at his appearance and gently tousle his hair, earning a giggle from him.

“That wasn’t planned. It was pretty romantic though, right?” He can’t fight the smile that spreads across his face as he asks.

“A little bit. I forgive you, by the way,” You admit.

He exhales and runs a hand through his hair with shaky confidence. He couldn’t be certain of your decision, so the relief he feels at your words is palpable.

“Does that mean I get to see all the spreadsheets about the wedding now?” He knew he was testing his luck by asking, especially because the process had been under lock and key even before restricting his access to wedding-related documents.

“Yeah, it’ll take some stress off my back. It’s giving me headaches just thinking about everything coming together,” You rub your forehead and close your eyes for a moment before looking back at him.

“You’ve been stressed like this and you haven’t told me?” He frowns.

“I was mad at you, so all my other feelings just kept building up. I’m sorry,” You shake your head, immediately covering your face with your hands. He pries them off just as quickly, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“It’s okay, love. I am more than willing to help you, I promise,” He nods eagerly with a grin.

“Okay. I like that name, you know,” You finally crack a smile and his own smile widens.

“Figured you would.” He’s leaned closer to your face, but there’s enough space to move away in case you reject him. “Can I kiss you?” He asks gently.

“Please,” You whisper.

It’s all he needs to complete the distance between your lips and the feeling of you is almost overwhelmingly beautiful. He’s so lucky at this moment, feeling your hands push his head deeper into the kiss. He was too cautious last time, but now he’ll never take another kiss of yours for granted, not when it feels this good.

He would do anything to make sure you felt loved and cared for, no matter how long it took to earn your full trust.

—

“I just need a moment alone, if that’s alright?” The question comes out a bit shakier than you imagined, but you can’t seem to quiet your nerves. Your wedding day has already taken you on an emotional rollercoaster despite not going down the aisle yet.

As you view yourself in the gown that you meticulously picked out along with the detailed hair and makeup that took hours to complete, nothing looks out of place.

Yet, your heart feels unanchored.

Your relationship with Soonyoung was getting better every day, but it seems like it was all going a little too well. Even though your relationship was transforming from a state of emergency into a promising romance, it was all catching up to you at the moment. Your mutual efforts to improve your relationship had been fruitful, giving you both the confidence to get married without feeling insecure.

You wouldn’t regret it, right? You needed to be certain that you wouldn’t.

“Of course, Princess.” Your head staff member agrees without question before exiting the room along with a few team members who were assisting you for the past few hours.

Your brain can only think of him. The tradition of spending the night before the wedding apart from each other felt more like torture than anything else, as you’ve come to appreciate his comforting presence next to you. In the last few weeks leading up to the wedding, he’s made such a genuine effort to intertwine your lives together that spending time apart felt futile.

A knock on the door breaks you out of your trance. Before you can ask who’s there, Soonyoung’s voice fills the silence.

“Is it a bad time?” His voice makes your heart flutter before you can even look at him.

“You can’t see me before the wedding, it’s bad luck,” You attempt to fight the smile on your face but you don’t allow yourself to look at him.

“Even if my bride has cold feet?” He presses on, his footsteps quietly approaching you.

You turn to reveal yourself to him and his face lights up.

“They’re not cold, they’re lukewarm,” You smile coyly at him. He grabs your hands and scans your body with wondrous eyes, his gaze seeming to land on every detail of the dress before meeting your eyes again.

“You look so,” His voice trails off. You’re sure that you can read his mind, he’s practically grinning from ear to ear. It makes you feel a bit shy, you can feel your cheeks heat up from his complimentary words.

“You’re really inflating my ego here,” You shake your head gently, but the feeling of his hand grazing your cheek pulls your gaze to him. Despite your best efforts, it’s still hard to fight the inner voice that tells you that he doesn’t mean it, that he’s only saying it because it’s something you want to hear.

Yet, his responses are just unflinchingly earnest that it makes you wonder why you ever felt that way in the first place.

“You just look so stunning,” His voice begins to shake before he clears his throat, “I just can’t believe that you’re mine.”

You were certain that you’d never seen that much sincerity in his eyes up until now, but it started to quiet the lingering fears that still sat in the pit of your stomach. He was absolutely smitten with you, to the point where his smile didn’t go away while you were talking to him.

“You can’t cry yet, you have to save it for the cameras.” You chuckle in an effort to push away his tears, but his eyes were still glossy.

“I can’t help it. You’ve worked really hard on all of this and it’s coming together so well,” He sighs with content. Honestly, you needed to hear that it was all worth it, especially from him. Although he’d been offering reassurance more often than not, the sentiment felt different knowing that you were minutes away from getting married.

“I wanna kiss you so badly, but I can’t fuck up my makeup.” You pout. He instinctively places his hands on your shoulders, moving them up and down to make you feel grounded with his touch.

“We can kiss, you know. There are no rules to any of this.” He attempts to get you out of your tradition-focused mindset with a low tone. You do want to indulge him though, considering that this was the first time you'd been alone with him all morning.

“Just go below the mouth.” You nod and he smirks, immediately placing his lips on your jaw to see how you’d react. It pulls a soft moan from your throat, and your reaction encourages him to go down your neck, leaving kisses wherever his lips can find skin. You started to let go of the responsibilities lingering over your head and focus on your fiance’s tongue leaving open-mouth kisses on your cleavage.

He’s practically doing everything but undressing you and his eagerness makes it harder to pull away, but you have to.

“Babe,” You whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Later,” You have to hold onto your resolve or else you’ll give in, and you can’t let your first time be in a dressing room.

“Later?” His eyes perk up like an excited puppy. The implication of the consummation of your marriage feels daring, it will serve as the reward after dealing with the decadent fanfare of the day.

“Yes, later. I promise.” You nod and he somehow looks even happier than before he walked in. He focuses on your lips but leaves a kiss on your cheek instead.

“I’ll see you out there, okay?” He presses one last kiss to your palm before heading towards the door.

“Okay,” You wave him off and watch him disappear with a smile on your face.

It’s clear that you don’t have anything to worry about.

—

“You’re sure that you don’t wanna come in with me?” Soonyoung calls from the pool.

“Yeah,” You nod with a hand placed above your eyes, acting as a sun visor since you couldn’t find a hat to put on.

You were two days into your honeymoon, tucked away at a small island resort that mostly isolated you from the outside world.

The wedding had thankfully gone far better than you could have imagined. He stopped you multiple times throughout the reception to tell you how beautiful it was, how happy he was to be in the moment with you, and how well you planned it all. It was a day that felt sun-soaked, enveloped in a love that was starting to soften and lose the sharp edges that had restrained it before.

Despite all of the kind attention from family and friends throughout the day, it was evened out with the constant presence of staff and castle officials that made it all a bit overwhelming.

Thankfully, the honeymoon began the next day and you’d have to force all responsibilities out of your head for the next week.

“You’re thinking about something, probably too many things,” He assumes correctly.

You scoff and turn away for a moment before facing him again. “You can’t be this good at analyzing me, we’ve only been married for less than a week.”

He laughs before swimming closer to the edge of the pool to meet you. “That’s my job, angel.”

“But you’re right, I am thinking too much about you moving in and all the press stuff we have to do,” You’re rubbing at your temples just thinking about how much effort it’s all going to take.

“Hey, look at me.” He calls out softly. You reluctantly place your hands at your sides, trying to take in his words.

“You’ll have plenty of time to worry about this, but this is the only time you’ll be on your honeymoon. Hopefully,” He shows his teeth and it succeeds in making you laugh. He smiles back at you before continuing.

“So maybe we can swim together if you’d like?” He tries again, knowing you’ll say yes. You take one last sigh and nod.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” You take your coverup off to reveal a solid black bikini he hadn’t seen yet. You discard the coverup on a nearby chair before turning to face him.

He eyes you for a moment before you clear your throat. “Slow down, loverboy, we’re supposed to be swimming!”

“Just admiring how beautiful my wife is, that’s all,” He bites back a smile but ultimately lets it show. You walk down the pool stairs until you’re swimming next to him. He only stares at you for a second before pulling you in for a kiss.

You’re caught off guard, letting out a small squeak when his tongue slides into your mouth but you give in to the feeling soon enough. You let your fingers card through the back of his hair, pushing yourself further into the kiss. You feel his hands wander across your ass and you let out a moan.

“Just wanted me in here so you could fuck me?” You whisper, finally pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath.

“You caught me,” He whispers back and proceeds to kiss down your neck, not hesitating to leave marks that force moans out of your throat.

“For fuck’s sake,” You sigh. You didn’t need to have control right now, you didn’t want it when he was making you feel this good just by kissing you. You thank your lucky stars that the vacation house is somewhat isolated because you can’t pretend to hold back the noises you’re making.

He picks up on this and presses his erection against your thigh, causing you to hold your breath. “Where do you want me, sweetheart?” He asks quietly. Your train of thought can’t even start because he’s staring right at you, brushing his thumb against your lip.

“Chairs,” You mutter. He bites his lip and turns to look at the unoccupied beach chairs lined up near the sliding glass door that leads back into the house.

“Okay,” He nods. He leads you back to the pool stairs before taking your hand and helping you out of the water. You both don’t think about drying off before he sits you down onto the chair, pulling off your bikini bottom without a second thought. You watch him with spread legs, taking in the sight of his glistening chest and abs. He seemed just as eager as you, taking off his swim trunks in the blink of an eye. The sight of his cock makes your head spin, so you force yourself to make eye contact with him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks earnestly. He must not know how hot he is because you’re rendered speechless. His freshly dyed black hair is slightly spiky, and it doesn’t help when he runs his hand through it. It all just goes to your clit, and you’re certain that the pressure will make you explode.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You force your mouth into a smile to replace the incredulous look on your face. He nods and settles into the space between your legs, quickly spreading hands across your thighs.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” His eyes are practically dripping with lust, but you want to let him know that the feeling is mutual.

“Yeah, maybe for the 100th time today, but you look even prettier,” Your compliment comes out a bit shy, but it still makes his eyes light up.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” He lets his thumb graze your clit and you whimper. He lingers there for a few more moments before dragging two fingers down your entrance. He ponders for a moment before pushing inside, and the new sensation makes you cry out. The angled position of the chair makes his movements feel even more powerful, and his fingers gliding against your tight walls already have you in shambles.

“It’s not possible because you’re the prettiest person in the world, and I get all your cute noises to myself, right?” His question makes the coil in your stomach harder to ignore.

“Yeah,” You moan. He leans in for a kiss, capturing your lips easily while thrusting his fingers even deeper. How does he know your body like this? Sure, you’ve made out a few times but he's never touched you like this before.

Maybe it’s the anticipation that’s causing him to show out like this, he’s trying to impress you because of how long you’ve had to wait for this. You let your arms drape behind his neck for a moment before clutching onto his back.

You hear him moan from the scratches you leave on the expanse of his back, you savor the noises as they start to blend in with your moans.

“Gonna cum,” You breathe into his ear. He can tell how tense you are around him, and your eyes are becoming frantic from the impending pleasure.

“Just relax baby, take a deep breath, and let go for me. I know you can do it,” His encouragement lets you cum immediately, arching your back off the chair with a soft grunt escaping your lips. Your orgasm washes over you all at once and his fingers only slow down a bit, allowing you to feel every single bit of pleasure that he could pull out of you.

You take a few deep breaths and focus on his eyes once again. You start to register his face again as he strokes your cheek. “Are you ok? Are you up for more?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, I just didn’t think you’d get me like this so early, that’s all.” You cover your eyes with your hands for a moment before looking at him again. He has you so shy that you can barely look at him. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you haven’t cum like that in a very long time, but if he’s making you feel like this so early on into the marriage, you don’t think you’ll ever be disappointed.

“Well, that’s good. I just wanna take care of you,” He reassures you sweetly. His eyes are so full of love that it makes your heart pound, swallowing in anticipation.

He meant it when he said he’d take care of you, he had barely let you do anything for yourself since you arrived at the vacation house. It was so adorable that you didn’t have the heart to stop him. It was nice to let him live up to his promise of showing his love for you instead of constantly feeling distrustful of his actions.

Of course, there would eventually be moments where you’d disagree or argue with each other, but it wouldn’t be out of spite like before. You’re lost in thought until he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Where’d you go, pretty?” He whispers, his face now a few inches away from yours. It somehow makes you even more flustered than before.

“Just thinking about how much I love you,” You admit with a smile. His eyes widen at the confession and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“You love me?” He asks in surprise.

“I love you.” You state it confidently. You mean it too, and it feels so easy to express it to him. You knew you loved him since the wedding, he cried at the sight of you walking down the aisle and it helped you realize his sincerity. He seems to let the words settle into the air before giving you a response.

“I love you too. It feels good to say that,” He laughs at his own confession. With a mutual confession out in the open, the air somehow feels lighter.

“Can I show you how much I love you by fucking you properly?” He asks. You can only laugh and nod your head at how sweet it is.

“Not out here though. I need you in bed right now!” He exclaims, sweeping you up into a bridal style hold. You let out a scream before bursting into laughter, you can only let yourself get carried back into the house without protest.

----

“Fuck, right there, please,” You whimper, eyes screwed shut. The feeling of his cock stuffed inside you was indescribably good, it was nearly enough to make you cry. Once he got you on the bed, he wasted no time filling you up and easily pulled moans out of your throat.

He pressed your legs up to your chest, making sure that he was completely inside of you. You quickly learned that your husband had incredible stamina, and you were definitely gonna cum again sooner rather than later.

“You’re so good for me, my love. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of having you like this,” He whispers in your ear. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin brought something primal out of you, you just want to suck him inside of your walls even deeper. You were barely holding on, but he kept pushing you even closer to the edge.

He leaned down to leave marks in the crook of your neck, leaving a hand free to fondle your breast. It was as if he combined every possible move just to drive you insane and it was working.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” His voice is laced with something even deeper than lust, it almost felt demonic the way he asked you.

“Yes, please let me cum, please,” The words spilled out of your mouth, your voice was shaking along with your body. He was practically rocking you back and forth with the impact of his cock, hitting that particular spot deeper every time.

“Go on, then. Cum for daddy,” He grants you permission. The nickname makes you flood his cock, screaming again as your orgasm takes over you. He pulls out in time for you to squirt on his cock, leaving you even more surprised than before.

“Holy shit,” You whimper. He looks so pleased with himself, but also shocked that he was able to push you that far.

He lets you both recover for a few minutes, but you know he hasn’t cum yet. “I’m kinda close, baby, is it alright if I-?” He asks, but you don’t let him finish.

“Of course. I already miss your cock, to be honest,” You let yourself smile and his eyes are already blown wide by your response.

“You’re insane, you know that?”

“You made me like this,” You hit his arm playfully. He slides his cock into you again slowly and he watches your mouth fall open slightly at the sensation.

“I did,” He smirks at you, relishing the sight of how fucked out you look just from him staying still.

He picks up the pace, trying to focus on getting himself there. It didn’t seem like it’d take much just from how intensely he looked at you.

“Gonna let me cum inside you, baby? Should I get you pregnant like this?” His questions felt sinful in your ears, but you were too gone to care. You felt pressure building just from that, and the thought of him breeding you felt exciting.

“Yes, please, I want it,” You whine. He felt so deep that you could feel it from your head to your toes. Every single part of you felt overwhelmed by his cock and his relentless pace.

“Good girl, daddy wants to fuck you like this all the time,” He moves to kiss you sloppily, but it still feels heavenly to have him in your mouth. It wasn’t much longer before you felt his body tense beneath you.

“Are you close?” You ask breathily.

“Yeah,” He grunts. He grabs your hips and fucks into you even harder than you remember, the pain radiating from your thighs forces a tear out of your eye but you know it’s helping. He doesn’t warn you before he cums, and the sudden warmth inside of you makes you moan louder than you expect. He finally falls beside you and lets you both recover for a few minutes in silence. You could easily fall asleep like this, both of you laying haphazardly under the covers while his breathing steadies your own.

“Y/N?” He calls your name and it startles you. You struggle to keep your eyes open at the sound of his voice.

“Oh no, I scared you,” His voice is much quieter than before, lulling you back into a state of calmness.

“No, I’m okay, I promise,” You turn to face him, rubbing your eyes gently.

“Ok good. We’ve gotta clean up now, alright?” He softens the blow of the question by kissing your forehead. It still feels foreign to let him take care of you, but when you see how gentle he is, you don’t feel the urge to take control.

It’s enough to watch him go through your suitcase, observing how his eyebrows furrow while trying to decide what shirt you might want to wear.

You decided that he didn’t have to prove anything else to you, ultimately, you could see how pure his heart was, and it would be doing both of you a disservice to let assumptions of character control the course of your relationship.

You’re attentive enough to follow his cues while he’s dressing you or helping you up to the bathroom, but your mind is consumed by him.

“Doing okay, love?” His question pulls your head toward him. You adjust your posture in bed as he approaches you, climbing into the bed beside you.

“Better now that you’re back,” You hum lowly, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You take a deep breath, taking in the feeling of his skin against yours.

His body vibrates as he chuckles. “I’m glad you’re alright. I was thinking about something while we were in the bathroom,” He leans into your touch slightly, enough to make your eyes flutter shut.

“What’s up?” You accept his inquiry.

“I think we should take the kids here one day when they’re old enough,” He explains it as if it’s fate, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of him being certain that your shared future is meant to expand in so many different ways. You can’t picture yourself being pregnant for a long while, but the idea of building a family with him feels right to think about.

“We’ve fucked once and you’re thinking about our kids,” You tease him in a lighthearted tone, but you hear his nervous laughter.

“It’s just a thought,” He waves his hand gently.

“It’s a very nice thought, you’re really sweet,” You finally raise your head to look at him. You let your hand caress his cheek before kissing him gently. He accepts you immediately, and you let yourself linger on his lips for a few moments before pulling away to look at him.

He searches your eyes, focused on figuring out what you’re meant to tell him. You can’t think of anything profound to tell him, any extravagant sentimentalities you might’ve conjured up don’t make their way out onto your lips.

“I love you,” You whisper. Your feelings are buried too deep to let them all out now, but it’s enough to tell him this. You feel the pressure in your chest lessen the moment he smiles back at you.

“I love you so much,” He mumbles the words against your lips before kissing you, love seemed to radiate from his lips the way he was holding you against him. The day unfolded into the evening, time passing languidly as you were enamored with each other.

As you fell asleep with him holding onto your waist, you realized that sweetness had made its way into your life before your very eyes. The limitless potential between the two of you no longer strikes fear into your heart, but instead sustains you in new ways.

There would be time to flesh out the dynamics of your relationship, determining how you’d show up for each other in loud and unspoken ways, but the present feeling of safety that sat in your chest was enough.

Neither of you was perfect, but the act of showing up and being willing to grow with each other was enough.

You are both trying, and that is more than enough.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Horror Movies Pt. 1 | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary: She shares a special passion for horror movies with her boss, Neil Lewis. But it doesn't end there, she also shares his secrets... or at least the ones he can keep himself. He's been keeping one from her but maybe a night of adventure will break the silence and scare them to their senses.

Warnings: Drinking, semi-public sex, boss/employee relationship, struggles with self-image, spying, invasion of privacy, slight disrespect for the dead, smut, moments of miscommunication and assumed consent, unprotected sex, oral, and some fluff.

word count: 3781k

Nothing's New- Rio Romeo 🎶

We Used to Wait- Arcade Fire 🎵

I'm Writing a Novel- Father John Misty 🎶

Not proof read- sorry folks!

Neil’s eyelashes fluttered gently against his pale, sleepy skin. He woke to the soft hymn of a record player’s needle spinning on a Billie Holiday disk. When he opened his eyes, he saw her standing at the milk crate, flipping through the old vinyl, dusty with age. He sighed and stretched out his arms above his head on the cracking leather couch. She glanced over and smiled. 

“Long night?” She teased as she put the stack of records back. 

“How could you tell?” He rubbed his eyes and sat up, an empty can of cheap beer sliding off of his leg and onto the carpeted ground in the store. 

“You almost never spend the night here unless you have a special guest,” she wiggled her fingers and leaned against the register counter. The store still bore the signs of the night before, lamps dimmed, empty beer cans, and a woman’s bra hiding between the seat cushions of one of the couches. 

“You know I can’t have anyone over yet… it feels weird to bring them home with me, like the start of a horror movie.” He laughed awkwardly and checked his watch. 

“What horror movie starts like that?” She raised her eyebrow. 

“What if she turned out to be a serial killer?” He argued and she laughed lightly, shaking her head. 

“So who was it this time?” She walked over to the couch and retrieved the bra from between the cushions. He watched her with an embarrassed blush creeping up his sharp cheekbones. “34D?” She whistled slowly and tossed it at his chest, “impressive, Neil.” 

“Oh shut up!” He fumbled with the bra and tossed it aside. 

“We need to open in fifteen minutes,” she stopped herself from sounding too annoyed and clocked in on the ancient time-clock system behind the counter. Neil grunted and forced himself into a standing position. Jonathan and Lucien arrived at the front doors and pressed their faces against the glass. She rolled her eyes, “Neil, your friends are here.” 

Neil, holding the bra, dashed behind the counter and stuffed it into her purse. 

“What are you doing?” She protested, struggling over the bra and her purse. 

“Can you just keep this in your bag for a little while? I don’t want the guys to see.” His hair was pushed up over her forehead, showing the freckled texture of his skin. 

“Neil…” She warned and he pouted playfully. 

“Pretty please!” He widened his eyes into wide pools. She sighed and pinched the skin between her eyebrows. 

“Fine, fine!” She pushed her bag into one of the counter compartments and crossed her arms across her chest. 

“Oh God, thank you!” He smiled and hurried to let Lucien and Jonathan inside the video store. “I owe you one!” 

“Yeah you do.” She couldn’t help but laugh to herself as she watched him scramble over to the front doors and unlock them. His friends came inside without a second thought and continued the argument that they had been having outside. 

“No, I don’t think you understand. Quentin Tarantino is so overrated.” Lucien protested and beelined for her. “Here, is Tarantino overrated?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head, “I love all of his movies.” 

“See!” Jonathan laughed. 

“Sorry, Lucien, I’m with Jonathan on this one.” She pulled out the order receipts and started slipping through them, her short acrylic nails scratching at each slip.  

“How could you like Quentin Tarantino?” Lucien exclaimed and walked angrily to the small circle of couches that Neil had previously been asleep on. She exchanged a look with Neil and smiled down at the papers, trying not to laugh. 

“Come on, I don’t pay you two to sit around and argue.” Neil followed them. Jonathan stepped on a crumbled can and laughed. 

“Well you certainly pay someone to sit around and drink.” He picked up the can and showed it to Lucien who stopped arguing to look. 

“Jesus Christ.” Neil pulled on his face and ran away as they started bombarding him with questions. 

“Did you have a girl over again last night?” Jonathan laughed loudly, gesturing to the empty cans. 

Again? She thought it only happened once or twice but it happened enough times for Jonathan and Lucien to notice. She felt her heart drop into her stomach and tried to go back to work. 

“Shhhh!” Neil tried to shush them and glanced over, embarrassed. She pretended to not hear. “I’ll tell you guys later, ok?” He whispered and she saw the boys nod out of the corner of her eye. 

“I can still hear you!” She sighed and opened the register. 

“You mean… you two?” Lucien pointed between them and Neil laughed tightly. 

“No, no. I just didn’t think it was appropriate to talk about it… in front of my employee.” He struggled for the right words. 

“Ohhh, sorry.” Lucien held up his hands in defeat and plopped back down on the couch. “So, anyway, the reason why I don’t like Tarentino…” 

Neil left them to their argument and wandered over back to the register. 

“Sorry about that.” Neil blushed and avoided eye contact. 

“It’s ok. We’re all adults here,” she looked over at Lucien and Jonathan, “at least we are.” She corrected and he laughed. 

“You have some…lipstick…” She pointed to a place on his neck and he wiped his neck with the back of his hand. 

“Damn, I should probably change.” He let his voice drone on for a second longer and spun around on his heels, heading back to his office. 

She had hid her feelings well for the past few months. She joked with him about the girls he brought back to the store and covered his ass when he slept into a work day. She felt like that was the only way that she could be with him, his friend or his younger sister. Strictly platonic. She’d been working at Gumshoe Video for nearly a year and gotten to know every one of Neil’s quirks. She’d started to like them, even though they could piss her off. The bells on the front door hit the door frame as a customer entered. She was short with black-shoulder length hair, twisted into small curls around her face. Her hooded eyes were focused on the racks of VHS tapes around her, speaking into a pair of string-earbuds. She was speaking to someone on the phone so she just waved at the customer and mouthed “hello.” The girl smiled back and started looking. Neil came back out into the store wearing cartoonish prisoner garb, a white undershirt visible at the base of his neck. He took a stack of returned VHS and put them on the counter. 

“Hey, could you rewind these for me? I’ll help the customer.” He tucked a loose strand of black hair behind his ear and waited for her nod of assent. 

“Sure, boss.” She liked using the nickname, especially when she was frustrated with him over something. His mouth twitched, starting to form a smile. She took the tapes to the tv in the store and Jonathan helped her load a tape into the box. 

“Geez, how many are there?” He pointed to the stack at her side. 

“Like ten.” She shook her head. “They never rewind the tapes, do they?” 

“No, I guess they don’t.” He pressed the rewind button on the base of the box and they waited for the movie to go back to the beginning. She glanced over at Neil who was sorting tapes on the case behind the register. When the customer approached, he didn’t react, until she cleared her throat and asked again. 

“Oh are you talking to me now?” He whispered and she nodded. 

“Which do you recommend?” She held up the tapes and Neil smiled. 

“Next tape, please.” Jonathan asked and she took the next tape from the box and loaded it into the player. “I’ll start a pile here.” He started to stack the boxes beside him on the other side. 

“I need a form of ID.” She could hear Neil say behind her as the movie rewinded. 

“I don’t have one.” The customer responded and she could hear Neil’s apprehension.

“No driver’s license?” 

“I don’t drive.” She answered as if it were obvious.

“We don’t usually rent to people without ID.” 

“Can I pay in cash? I have cash.” She handed him some money and he shrugged. 

“Uhh that works.” She could hear his smile in his words. “It’s due back in two weeks.” He handed the tape over and she left. 

“That was weird.” Jonathan mumbled beneath his breath and looked over at Neil who was watching her leave. “Looks like he’s found his next target.” 

Neil chuckled and said took out an envelope from beneath the register. 

“That girl was definitely on something. She gave me a $50.” 

“Jesus…” She nearly dropped the tape in her hand. 

“That is crazy.” Lucien fiddled with his pipe. 

“And no driver’s license?” Jonathan asked and Neil nodded. 

“She was hot though. Oh, Lucien?” 

“Yeah?”

“Could you get that box of old thrillers from my office? They’re in a cardboard box, it's a recent shipment.”

“Oh dear God… thrillers.” Lucien stood and shuffled into the backroom, speaking beneath his breath about thrillers.

She rolled her eyes and focused back on the tapes. Jonathan cleared his throat beside her. 

“So… I was meaning to ask you-”

“Yeah?” She asked absentmindedly and he started again. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to do something this weekend.” Jonathan asked hesitantly and snapped a VHS box closed, “just the two of us.” He added and she paused. She looked over and blushed, suddenly very sweaty and uncomfortable in her own body. Neil looked up from the desk, having overheard the conversation. 

“We could watch a movie… your choice of course.” He smiled and she mirrored him. 

“Well, um,” she struggled to come up with an excuse. The truth was that she didn’t have one. Sure she favored Neil but Jonathan was cute too and obviously, Jonathan was interested in her. “Sure… yeah. I’d like to.” She allowed and Jonathan grinned. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, why not?” She shrugged and Jonathan smiled down at the tapes in his hands. 

“Look, I don’t mind if you guys fuck eachother but don’t do it right in front of me, ok?” Neil almost sneered and Jonathan looked over his shoulder. Lucien came back with the box. 

“Says the guy that had sex right where Lucien was just sitting!”

Lucien almost dropped the box. “Where I was SITTING? Neil! You could have warned me!” He exclaimed and pushed the box onto the countertop. Neil’s face paled slightly and he swallowed, looking down at the box of movies.

“Nevermind, sorry.” He grumbled and Jonathan returned to tapes. 

She and Jonathan finished the tapes quickly and returned them to their places on the store’s shelves. She stayed out of Neil’s way for the rest of the day, trying to ignore the growing core of frustration in her stomach. She hated the way he made her feel. They were only a year or two apart and yet, she felt so much younger, so naive. She knew him from high school when he was a senior and she was a sophomore. They’d done AV club together and he’d done tech in theater when she acted. They’d been nearly friends by the time he graduated. He had been attractive in high school too though he wasn’t very popular. They’d bonded over their mutual love for film and corresponded a few times over email in college. She’d only seen him as a friend until now, running her eyes down the length of his chest to her narrow hips. Neither of them had made as much as a move on the other since they’d met and now she willed him to see her as more than just a colleague or coworker. 

She was perched on the stool behind the counter when a customer came in to return a video. She scanned the barcode and completed the transaction, bidding them a good day. She held the tape between her hands and flipped the box over, looking at the image of Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby. She’d cut her hair weeks ago, inspired by Mia Farrow’s character. Even though she knew she looked good in the shaved pixie, she felt almost undesirable. She had hoped that it would make her more confident but instead, it had weakened her sense of self-confidence. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. Even having Jonathan ask her out didn’t help her confidence, it was pretty pitiful. Neil came around the back of the counter and checked a folder of receipts. 

“This envelope is for that girl from earlier if she comes in again.” He pointed out the envelope with ‘That weird girl without a driver’s license.’ She smiled at the envelope and nodded. 

“Got it, boss.” 

He laughed lightly and started to turn away when she interjected. 

“Do you want that bra back now?” She was suddenly conscious of her own breasts, pressed against the soft padding in her own bra. She crossed her legs, fixing the hem on her jeans. Neil cleared his throat and blushed again. 

“Eh yeah, sure.” He avoided his eyes and she dug around in her bag for the bright red bra. When she found it, she draped it in his open hand, brushing her fingers against the skin on his wrist. 

“Here.” She met his eyes. 

“Thanks,” he looked down at it and then cursed beneath his breath, “shit I just realized that I don’t know her address. I don’t know how to get this back to her.” 

“Do you remember her name?” She pulled up the business log on the computer. 

“Umm… Nancy?” He offered and she typed in the name checking the rentals from the day before. 

“Nancy Rand?” She read out the only name in the system. 

“That sounds right.” He nodded and licked his lips absentmindedly. 

“This is the address,” she read it out as he wrote it down. 

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked and she turned, shocked. 

“What?” 

“Do you want to help me return this?” He smiled. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she stood and brushed past him but turned and then nodded slowly, “ok.” The store closed at 8pm. She changed the vinyl on the record player and sought out the broom and dustpan. Jonathan and Lucien left at closing and Neil closed the door behind them, flipping the sign on the door to ‘closed.’ Jonathan gave her a nod goodbye and she waved shyly. They closed down the video store in relative silence, only the music from John Lennon’s Double Fantasy filling the space. She swept the store thoroughly as Neil closed the register. She waited as he locked up and pulled on the doors to ensure that they were secure. The summer humidity hit them like a cloud as soon as they stepped outside. Neil had switched out of his prison costume, now wearing jeans, his white undershirt, and a green button up that he’d left unbuttoned. She took off her cardigan and stuffed it into her bag, preferring to confront the heat in her plain brown camisole. Her jeans were a little too long and brushed the pavement as they walked. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” She asked Neil and he shrugged. 

“Kind of. I think I’ve been in the neighborhood before.” 

“Nice neighborhood?” She stuck her hands in her back pockets as they walked. 

“Oh yeah. It’s across the street from the golf course.” 

“Do you think Nancy Rand golfs?” 

“Probably.” 

“It's the Victoria’s Secret.” She sighed with a nod.

“What?” 

“Her bra- it’s Victoria’s Secret.” She pointed to the tag on the side of the bra and he raised his eyebrow. 

“Oh… right. What does that mean?” He smiled. 

“It means she dropped like $30 on that. She has the kind of money to play golf and buy expensive bras.”

“What??” He held the bra further away from him. “Why are they so expensive?” 

“The super fancy ones are. I can’t believe she left without it. It's nice.”

“Well to be fair, neither one of us were very sober.” He put the bra back into his pocket and swung his arms back and forth.  

“Mmm,” she hummed. 

“Soooo,” Neil shoved his hands into his front pockets and shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, “Do you wear Victoria's Secret too?” He smiled naughtily and she rolled her eyes. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It seems like you have plenty of Victoria’s Secrets to go around, Neil.” She joked and pointed to his back pocket. He laughed and kicked his shoe against the pavement. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He held up his hands in surrender. 

“Is this the house here?” She pointed to a large house with wide round columns. Neil whistled low when he saw the house with two station wagons parked out front. 

“Yeah…”

“How are you planning on giving that back?” She asked and he shook his head.

“I have no idea.” 

“Oh, man… I have got to see how you pull this off!” She started laughing hysterically and he massaged his temples anxiously. 

“I’ll just go up there and knock on the door.” He claimed and rubbed his hands together. 

“Ok,” she smiled. “Go ahead! I’ll be right here.” She gestured to the curb. 

He sighed dramatically and walked up to the front door, framed by symmetrical fake gas lamps. He pointed to the gaslamp and pursed his lips, she could almost hear him trilling his lips in mock admiration. She giggled and waved him on. When Neil rang the doorbell, an older woman opened the front door and greeted him with a confused smile. 

Neil met the woman with a wide grin, immediately regretting the whole trip. 

“Can I help you?” She asked and Neil shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. 

“I uh, I’m… I just moved into the neighborhood and I wanted to introduce myself.” He thought quickly on his feet and the woman smiled.

“Oh! I didn’t know someone was selling their house. Which is yours?” 

“It's uh… over there.” He gestured widely behind him and cleared his throat. “So er, nice to meet you.” 

“You haven’t told me your name.” The woman furrowed her brow. 

“Right, right. I’m uh Neil… Neil Lowry.” He came up with a random fake name on the spot and clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, I should be going. It was nice to meet you!” He called and hurried down the front step to the driveway. 

“Well, goodnight!” The lady frowned and closed the door, locking it. Neil practically scrambled back to the curb, panting. 

“That was fucking embarrassing.” He coughed out and she stifled her laughter behind her hand. 

“No luck?” 

“God no.” He put his hands on his knees, his shirt falling away from his thin stomach. 

“Why didn’t you just ask for Nancy?”

“I’m not even convinced that this is the right house!” He flailed his arms above his head. 

“Well, we could always leave it in the mailbox.” She shrugged and he sighed. 

“And run the risk of this not being her house and leaving a bra at a completely unrelated family home?” He cringed. “Could you use it?” He held out the bra and she smiled.

“I’m not a 34D, though I appreciate the offer. Ummm,” she rummaged through her bag.

“What are you looking for?” He asked.

“My binoculars.” She answered seriously and he laughed. 

“You carry binoculars?” 

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “they come in handy.”

“Do you often spy on people?” He crouched beside her on the curb, his hands held together in a tent. 

“It's called people watching, Neil.” She withdrew the small pair of binoculars and brushed them off. 

“Its fucking weird.” Neil retorted and laughed when she swatted him painfully on the shoulder. 

“Do you want my help or not?” 

“Ok, ok, sorry!” He took the binoculars and fixed the magnification onto the house. “We’ll have to go up to the house.” 

“Now who sounds like a stalker?” She grumbled and grabbed her bag. They snuck around the house to the side fence. 

“We’re both too short.” She pointed out and took the binoculars from Neil. “I could get on your shoulders…” She offered and bit her lip uncomfortably. Neil nodded and crouched down, his hands planted on the side of the house. 

“Alright, climb aboard.” 

“Don’t say that- it makes it sound weird.” She grumbled and scrambled, putting her thighs on either side of his neck. He stood upright and wavered a little. 

“Steady.” She whispered and peaked over the top of the fence, and looked into the second story room through the binoculars. She could see a girl sprawled out on her bed, a tv playing Singing in the Rain. 

“How do you feel about old musicals?” She asked and Neil huffed his response, not having to say anything. He hated Hollywood musicals. 

“Is she in there?” He asked in a strained voice. 

“Yeah, second story bedroom.” 

Neil lowered her to the ground and she put the binoculars back into her bag. They went around the fence and crouched beside the side of the house, below the window. 

“How old did you say this girl was?”

“I didn’t… and she’s in college.” He added quickly, “senior at NYU.” 

When she didn’t respond he changed the subject. 

“I’m going to throw a few pebbles at her window,” Neil thought aloud, “and when she opens the window, I can slingshot the bra up to her. 

“Slingshot? You can’t be serious.” 

“It’ll work.” Neil assured her and took a pebble from the ground. She sighed and waited for him to gently toss the pebble against the glass. He did it two more times before the window slid open and she could hear the girl leaning out. 

“Neil?” Nancy asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“You, uh, left this in the store.” He raised the bra and gave an awkward, crooked smile. 

“Oh, gosh. Thanks but I have so many. It’s ok, who’s telling what kind of stuff is on it now. You can just toss it.” She shrugged and waved. “Bye, Neil.” She closed the window with a loud snap and Neil lowered his arm. He said nothing though his brows were knit together. 

“Well what do we do now?” She asked below him and Neil smiled suddenly. 

“I have an idea. Come on!” He beckoned her to follow him as he crossed the street and held aside the fence onto the golf course.

----

End part 1 here :)

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Chapter 9

Note: not the best I've written, I'm sorry, my head is just currently going in all directions so this is more a filler chapter! previous chapter here. (special thanks to my friend for letting me borrow her name for a fic again)

Warnings: 18+! fluff/suggestive.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You picked up your famous bass player boyfriend from the airport.

wordcount: 2,6k

Masterlist

'No, please, don't… don't be like that.'

You anxiously waited at the airport, biting your nails on one hand while you nervously drummed with your free fingertips on the metal fence you leaned against. You perked up every time the arrivals door opened, but no sign of your bass player boyfriend and his bandmates yet. And you weren't the only one who was waiting for them to walk through those doors. To your surprise, dozens of fans had somehow figured out which plane the pretty boys took back home and what time they'd arrive and at which airport. And the fans had gathered at the same spot as you, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favourite band.

You had rolled your eyes when you saw them. How did people even find out about this stuff, you wondered. But soon you turned your back to them and kept your eyes on the arrival doors, and you lost yourself as you daydreamed about Sihtric. You couldn't wait to jump in his arms, kiss his lips, and hug him until the airport security would probably shove you two out. But you also had some thoughts there were less innocent, about how you wanted to collar and leash him again, only to then kiss and lick his body all over before you'd suck his co-

'Are you also waiting for the band?'

You were abruptly pulled from your spicy daydream and looked to your left to find a young woman looking at you with questioning eyes.

'Eh,' you said, not sure what to answer.

'Because I am too,' the woman said, 'but I'm alone, and, well, I thought maybe you are waiting too and since you're on your own too, maybe we could, you know, wait together?' she rambled on, 'I mean, if you're okay with that. The other fans there waiting,' she cocked her head towards the crowd, 'seem to be quite younger than me. It would make me feel awkward.'

'Oh,' you said, 'eh, y-yeah, I'm… sort of… waiting.'

'I knew it! Just because you look like the type who'd like their music, you know? I hope I didn't offend you, oh god. Oh! My name is Sandra, by the way,' she said and held her hand out.

'Oh, hi,' you chuckled awkwardly and introduced yourself.

'Have you met them before?' Sandra asked while she joined you by leaning on the fence.

'Eh, yeah,' you didn't lie, 'a few times. You?'

'That's so cool!' Sandra smiled, 'I haven't met them, only seen them perform several times. Osferth liked a comment of mine on instagram though!'

'Oh, no way!' you smiled, suddenly becoming a fan at heart again, instead of "Sihtric's (secret) girlfriend", 'that's so cool too! I only got noticed by Sihtric on insta, he liked and commented on my photo with him,' you blurted out, and immediately regretted your words.

'No way! He's my favourite!' Sandra gaped, 'man, I wish he would notice me. Hey, what's your insta? Can I follow you? You look a little familiar,' she then said, 'I think I've seen your photo with him maybe, I check his tagged photos sometimes. Anyway, your insta?'

'Eh,' you made an awkward face and scratched your head, 'well, it's, ehm-'

You were saved by the sudden loud screams of the teenage girls behind you, as the arrival doors opened and Uhtred walked out, along with some other oblivious passengers, and Osferth followed. Both men were dressed in sweatpants and comfy hoodies, while wearing expensive sunglasses.

'Oh my god,' Sandra whispered and grabbed your arm, 'there they are.'

Before you could say something, Sandra hesitantly walked up to the members, along with the other dozens of fans. Uhtred and Osferth were kind enough to stop for a few photos and signatures, but you brought your eyes back to the doors when they opened again. And then you saw Finan, who spotted you and grinned.

'Sihtric's on his way,' Finan said as he passed you, then winked, 'he had to take care of something.'

You gave him a confused look, but he disappeared into the crowd before you could blink. And when you heard the doors open again, you saw Sihtric; you favourite Seven Kings member, your crush, your boyfriend, your pet. And while you had daydreamed of running up to him and jumping in his arms, you were suddenly overwhelmed by a strange feeling of being intimidated by his appearance mixed with a hint of shyness, as if you didn't know him personally. You were nailed to the ground when you saw him again, after being apart for a week. 

He was dressed in his regular skinny jeans, with untied leather boots underneath, and a comfortable looking black hoodie. His hair was unbraided, loose and messy, just the way you liked it, and he carried a black Hello Kitty travelbag on his shoulder. A cheeky smile appeared on his face when he saw you, then took off his shades and dropped his travel bag before he ran over to you. The fans who had spotted him were completely in shock when they saw him approach them at full speed, and were left confused when they noticed he didn't run to them, but past them. And then many of them were disappointed and heartbroken when they heard him yell, 'My baby!' and watched how he picked up some seemingly random girl in his arms, spun her around, put her feet back on the ground again, only to grab her face and stick his tongue down her throat.

'Who the fuck is that?' one fan whispered to another.

'No idea? The girl he was talking about in his insta story, maybe?' the other fan answered.

'Holy shit,' Sandra laughed next to them, as she noticed that the girl was you.

'Fuck,' Sihtric breathed when he finally broke that kiss at the airport, for everyone to see, 'I missed you so much,' he said and pecked your face all over, 'I missed you so fucking much, baby.'

'I…,' you were silenced with another quick kiss, 'missed,' and another, 'Christ, you too, Sihtric,' you laughed when he finally stopped kissing you, which took all his strength.

'You come with me next time,' he said while he pushed you up against the fence you were leaning on only minutes ago, 'I swear it, I'm not travelling without you anymore-'

'Sihtric, there's a bunch of fans-'

'I don't care,' he sighed and didn't give you another chance to speak, as his lips found yours again. 

He pushed his strong, trained body against yours while he kissed you eagerly, trapping you lovingly while one hand was settled on your cheek, and his other on your waist. And then you finally gave in to your longing too. You moved your hands up his neck and gripped tightly onto his dark hair.

'My kitten,' you smiled against his lips when you both needed some air.

'Yours,' Sihtric whined softly, his fingers desperately pulling at your sleeveless jacket, 'please,' he begged with a whisper, 'I need you, please.'

'Please?' you chuckled and curled your fingers around the neck of his hoodie, keeping him close, 'what do you need from me, pretty boy?'

'Hm, no, please,' Sihtric hummed, and spoke with a desperate whisper, 'don't tease me. You know what I need from you.'

'And you know we agreed you would use your words,' you teased, 'did we not, kitten?'

He buried his face in your neck and smiled while wrapping his arms around you.

'I need you to collar and leash me,' Sihtric whispered in your ear, 'and drag me through the apartment,' he chuckled, 'and do whatever you like with me,' his teeth grazed your ear and he exhaled sharply, 'until you command me to fuck you.'

After Sihtric had kissed you uncountable times, you finally convinced him to go and meet some of the fans who had been waiting for him. Sihtric asked if you'd go with him, but you told him no. You stayed back as you had no business interfering in a fan's moment, and you knew it would draw even more attention. Before Sihtric left you had agreed to gradually start showing each other off more on social media, which you knew was going to affect your private life, so you lied if you said you weren't a little anxious. And for him to be so openly affectionate at the airport with you had caught you by surprise, but you'd also lie if you said you didn't like it.

You watched your dressed-in-black-but-obsessed-with-Hello-Kitty-boyfriend as he took some photos with fans and signed some merch. You couldn't stop yourself from taking a photo of him as he interacted with the younger girls and you shared it on your insta. Then suddenly Sandra came up to you again, and she grinned.

'You're the girl he was talking about in his story, huh?'

'Eh, yeah,' you chuckled and felt your cheeks heat up, 'guilty.'

'I love that for you, honestly,' she said, 'he looks so happy. Much happier than I've ever seen him before.'

You tried to fight a proud smile, in which you failed miserably when Sihtric suddenly looked up at you and smiled widely, before he brought his attention back to the fans in front of him. Sandra, who was about to become your new friend, rambled on about the guys and eventually asked for your instagram again. As she already figured out your secret, you gave it to her and you promised to stay in touch just when Sihtric managed to escape the dozens of fans and made his way back to you. Your new friend was quick to wish you a good day and left, not wanting to make things weird, and you patiently waited for Sihtric as he approached you. He picked up his travelbag and took your hand, then walked you out of the airport.

'What took you so long by the way?' you asked as you walked to your car, 'to walk through the arrivals door? Were you the last one to collect your bag or…?'

Sihtric shrugged, wrapped his arm around your neck and kissed your temple.

You frowned. 'Finan said you had to take care of something?'

'Yeah, I just had to check something,' he said, being more vague than you liked.

'Check what?'

'You'll see,' he grinned.

The drive back from the airport to Sihtric's apartment was a torment. You had missed your bass player boyfriend as much as he had missed you, but you couldn't focus on him as you were driving. And Sihtric liked to taunt, so he kept leaning over to your side and left soft, slow and wet kisses on your neck. You gripped the steering wheel hard as he kept teasing you, grazing your skin with his teeth and hearing his soft chuckles in your ear.

'Missed you,' he whispered.

'I missed you too,' you tried to focus on the road.

'I got off at the thought of you every morning and every night,' he confessed, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

You kept your eyes locked on the car in front of you, avoiding Sihtric's piercing gaze while you tried to not get affected by his words and touch.

'You're cute when you're all nervous,' Sihtric smiled and pecked your cheek once more before he sat back in his seat.

He was right about the fact that you were still nervous around him. But then you remembered how submissive he is in private, which is a huge contrast to his personality outside of the bedroom, and you figured he needed to be reminded who was actually in charge; you.

'I think,' you cleared your throat, 'that you should really watch your behaviour… kitten.'

'Or what?' he tried.

'Or I'll have to put you in your place,' you smiled, 'and punish you.'

'You know I like that,' Sihtric mumbled.

'I do,' you agreed, 'so that means your punishment would be that I won't collar and leash you when we're home-'

'What?' Sihtric snapped his head towards you.

'And that I won't yank your leash to make you pay attention-'

'No, no, no,' Sihtric said and panicked, 'I didn't mean it!'

'And that means I definitely won't spank you either.'

'No!' Sihtric whined, 'come on, I was only joking!'

You grinned. 'You asked for it.'

'No, please, don't… don't be like that.'

'You wanted to be punished,' you shrugged, 'there is your punishment, love.'

Sihtric stared at you with his jaw dropped, then scoffed and sat back again, looking at the road.

'Fine,' he huffed.

As soon as you arrived at Sihtric's place, he jumped in the shower. About 10 minutes later he came out of his bathroom, shirtless and wearing black sweatpants. His hair was damp and tied back into a bun, and he grinned when you stared at him from across the room.

'What the fuck are those?' you asked with big eyes.

'Surprise,' he chuckled, 'you like them?'

'I…' you blinked rapidly, 'when did you…'

'I got them the first day of my trip,' Sihtric smiled proudly, 'the reason it took me longer at the airport was because I had to stop by the toilets real quick to check if they weren't bleeding or anything, as they're still healing.'

You let out a laugh and just stared at your boyfriend, who was proudly showing off his two pierced nipples. You opened your mouth to speak but had no idea what to even say.

'You… you don't like it?' Sihtric then asked.

'No, I- I do,' you felt your cheeks heat up as he came closer, 'I just… you caught me by surprise is all,' you chuckled.

'Good,' he smiled and kissed your lips, 'because I got them for you,' he winked.

'For me?' you asked while Sihtric pulled you in his lap, 'why?'

'I don't know,' he shrugged, 'just thought you'd like them.'

'Well,' you stared at his nipples, 'you thought right. Should be fun to lick your nipples when they're healed, huh?'

Sihtric chuckled but also clearly moaned under his breath at the thought of your tongue playing with his piercings, once they were healed up of course.

'Well, since you got those for me,' you said, 'it's only fair if I give you something in return now.'

You got up and grabbed a small, black box out of your backpack while Sihtric followed you with curious eyes.

'I hope you like it,' you smiled a little shyly and handed him the box.

Sihtric looked excited like a kid on his birthday, and he quickly opened your gift. He chuckled and then bit down on his lip as he hummed softly. He looked at the black choker in his hands, which was decorated with metal spikes, a few pink stars, and in the middle there was a small Hello Kitty head.

'You… I got it for you to wear on stage,' you quickly explained, 'not in the bedroom. Unless you want to, but, I mean… you already have a-'

'I will wear it on stage,' Sihtric interrupted you, smiling, 'it's really fucking cool,' he grinned, 'besides, I wouldn't want to wear this in the bedroom anyway, the spikes are too sharp. I'd be terrified to hurt you by accident.' He looked up at you, 'but I love it. Thank you, babe,' he smiled and cupped your cheek to pull you in for a kiss.

'Glad you like it, my love,' you said, then grinned, 'but we're still not getting freaky tonight.'

'Oh, come on!' Sihtric groaned.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @liandav @diiickbrainn

[erodasfishtacos]

One Night Only - MSG

Prompt: When Brittany met Harry

Warnings: none

If you would like to get two week early release, exclusive content/tropes, among other benefits - consider signing up for my Patreon for $3 a month :)

-

Despite everyone thinking Harry had a secret tiktok account, he really didn’t, sometimes YN would show him funny videos but he didn’t have the app.

YN obviously knew who Brittany Broski was because she was so famous on the app, first from the kambucha video and then for her love of Harry.

They were throwing around ideas of who should host the One Night Only in New York for Harry’s house and YN had thrown her name in the ring because she thought it would be amazing.

When Brittany accepted, she was already in New York for the show luckily, and YN was ready to greet her with her friend when they were led backstage before the show.

As soon as Brittany spots YN, who is waiting near the dressing rooms, the tiktoker gasps and looks at the camera that’s filming her.

“Oh my god, she’s more gorgeous in real life,” Brittany whispers to the camera, “I’m about to meet YN Styles better known as the luckiest girl in the world. She gets to kiss that man whenever she wants. Life goals.”

Brittany’s obviously nervous as she walks towards YN who is chatting with Lambert and Jeff, they haven’t noticed her yet.

Unfortunately the first thing she blurts out when she arrives in front of them and they look at her is (all in a British accent), “Hello, I’m Brittany. Harry’s future second wife. It’s a pleasure.”

She wishes she could swallows those words back up, her face turning bright red, and her eyes widen comically - terrified she just offended the real Mrs. Styles.”

“Thank god, you can have him. He’s a pain in my ass,” YN laughs loudly, ignoring Brittany’s handshake and pulling her into a hug, “Thank you for agreeing to host this tonight for Instagram!”

Brittany relaxes a bit, hugging her back tightly, and when they pulls away, Brittany speaks to the camera and says, “Note to the viewers, YN smells like vanilla and lavender. It’s amazing.”

Then Brittany is pulling out her phone, remembering she has a job to do, “Okay, I am supposed to ask you some fan questions. But can I ask you a few first?”

YN still has a wide smile on her face, Brittany can’t help but notice her large diamond ring sparkling in the light, “Ask away.”

“What is it like to have your name tattooed on Harry Styles’ arm and your wedding anniversary on his thigh?”

A startled laugh comes from YN, Jeff and Lambert also chuckling in good spirits, YN pauses not quite sure how to answer, “It’s nice. They were actually both a surprise to me. He got my name one random day in LA when he was touring there for Take Me Home with the band. And got our wedding date on our honeymoon in Italy.”

“Nice nice, what a romantic lad,” Brittany responds before asking, “Harry Styles’ recently told Rolling Stones Magazine that nearly every song he’s written is about you. Thoughts?”

“I think he was just trying to get on my good side,” YN jokes fondly before becoming more serious, “We’ve been through a lot together. We’ve gone through these good and bad experiences as we were growing up together. Most of our time and memories are intertwined and that really influences his music.”

“Awesome, one finally question,” Brittany states and is still nervously giggling because YN was so pretty and nice, “What does Harry do that gives you the ick? TikTok argues that he doesn’t do anything that can give anyone the ‘ick’”?

YN purses her lips as she thinks, “He sometimes takes a nap after he works out, still sweaty and gross. That definitely gives me the ick.”

“You heard it here first, ladies and gents,” Brittany announces to the camera before hugging YN again and cutting the video.

-

It was made clear to Brittany that she wouldn’t have the chance to meet Harry because he was too busy before the show - which honestly she was okay with she always joked that she couldn’t meet him.

Management and the camera crew had led Brittany to a set of doors where they told her she would be interviewing some fans but when she walks in, she freezes when she sees none other than Harry Styles.

She automatically walks away, giggling wildly and not knowing what to do for a moment before walking back in where he greets her warmly with a hug and laughs at her fake British accent.

Harry thanks her for hosting the pre-show and coming to the show - sincerity in his voice as he makes eye contact with those glimmering green eyes.

Brittany can’t help but say, “Honestly, this is so exciting. I got to meet YN earlier and she’s even hotter in person.”

That makes Harry bark out a laugh, looking back to where YN is sitting on the couch with Glenne, beckoning her over.

“I can definitely agree with you on that one,” He chuckles before wrapping his arm around YN’s shoulder and kissing her temple - they’re so cute she could cry.

-

Later on, Brittany hops on live as she’s wiping off her makeup and back in her hotel room.

“It was the best experience ever. I’m actually glad I met them. They are by far the most unfairly attractive couple on this earth.”

“Harry smelled just like the Tom Ford cologne. YN smelled like vanilla and lavender,” Brittany responds as she peels off her fake eyelashes.

“I saw Harry grab her ass like ten times in a matter of minutes. They are definitely not a fake couple. They’re married for Christ sake. It’s blatantly obvious how in love they are, Harry followed her around and kept kissing her.”

[skolworthy]

Perfect Love Outcasts Fear

Message from the Author: This was intended as a one shot/drabble, yet the more I think about it, the more I desire it to become a series. I will leave it to my readers, on whether or not to continue it.

Plot: Vikings have declared war on Sussex, Ragnar Lothbrok, their leader, ends up getting captured and is currently held prisoner by the English, thus the reasoning behind said declaration.. Elizabeth, niece to the crowned King of Sussex, desires for peace and harmony among both the Northmen and English. Raised as a devout Christian, she prays day and night for something to happen that will bring about that desired peace. Whatever form it may take.

Warnings: None yet, could be some violence here and there, so if it gets too graphic…sorry? There shouldn’t be any explicit content for awhile, if this even turns into a series.

—

It had been almost five months since the Northmen had first raided Sussex, failing in their first attempt and retreating back to the shore. From what she had heard, they were biding their time, waiting for another battlement of ships to arrive to increase their numbers. Many of their men had fallen during the first siege, yet it seemed to matter not to these heathens, battle and victory their calling card and motive for all the destruction and chaos they ensued. It almost seemed like they were eager to lay down their lives for whatever cause they had to attack Sussex, stories of smaller attacks on outer lying villages always wafting around local taverns and inns. Elizabeth had always had a secret fascination with the Viking culture, a desire to understand them better as a means to eventually make peace with them. Yet her uncle, King Thomas, did not share her views and often would shun her from the presence of good society, should she ever begin to speak about them in a manner that was anything other than hate and disgust. This did not bother her, she enjoyed being on her own and left to her own thoughts and devices. Often she would venture to the chapel and pray, usually for God to open the minds of those around her. If they were ever to survive these constant raids, would it not be wise to know the mind of your enemy more, this including their beliefs and culture? Yet, these were the times when the thoughts of a woman were not valued in the slightest. 

“Lord, if this raid on our kingdom is your will, then let it be so. Perhaps it can shine wisdom upon our leaders in how to better improve our defenses and battle strategies, or perhaps it will bring ruin upon us all.” Elizabeth said with eyes closed, head bowed and hands clasped tight together as she knelt down among the pews of the chapel. “I believe that we are all your children, some of us having simply lost our way.” she continued, a small sigh escaping her lips. “Yet I feel that there is more to this attack than just bloodshed, I feel that something is wanting to happen from this. An…understanding.” she opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to the wooden sculpture of Christ upon the cross. “Send me a sign, Lord. A sign that something needs to change for the sake of humanity’s future.” Suddenly the door to the chapel burst open and Elizabeth jumped to her feet with a gasp. A man, Northman from the look of him, stood there panting, wild eyes looking around the empty room until they stopped upon her and she froze. His eyes were the brightest blue she had ever seen, and she had her own set of blue eyes, yet they were more of a darker hue with a slight ring of greenish yellow around the iris. Nowhere near as intensely blue as his. The man stood there staring at her for a moment before the sound of shouting outside of the room and down the hall caused him to turn around quickly and shut the doors with him now inside the chapel with her. 

Her hands were behind her, gripping the top of the pew as he then strode over to her quickly, glanced down at her a moment before looking around the room. The sound of voices outside the door caused him to search more fervently, apparently for somewhere to hide, when he suddenly ducked down behind her, his body rolling under the pew and out of sight, though Elizabeth could feel his hot breath against her ankles as she stood there. The doors bursting open once again caused her to jump and she brought her hands in front of her and held them there as three guards bounded in, their eyes searching the room for the Viking. They caught sight of her and immediately bowed their heads. “A thousand pardons, M’lady. We search for an escaped heathen, he was captured a few hours ago but managed to escape. We could have sworn he came this way.” The lead guard lifted his head and his eyes continued to search the room, about to take a step further within. “Yes, I saw him.” she said, which caused the breathing that she felt against her ankles to stop for a moment. Elizabeth lifted her hand and pointed toward a door off in the corner, which led down a hallway and elsewhere within the castle. “He ran in here, saw me and then hurried down that hall. If you hurry, you may yet catch him.” The guards bowed quickly and then ran to the door and threw it open, disappearing down it before it shut behind them, their footsteps diminishing. She stood there a moment staring at the door before she let out a breath of relief and then began to turn around to look down under the pew, only to give a small shriek when she came face to face with the man that had been previously hiding beneath it. 

He stood close to her, enough to where she had to lean back a little to regain her sense of comfort. Yet as she did so, he tilted his head to the side and leaned forward to keep the close distance, his eyes filled with intrigue and his lips daring to begin curling into a smirk. “You helped me. Why?” he suddenly asked, the fact that he spoke decent English caused her eyebrows to raise slightly. Elizabeth stammered a moment, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for the words that were swimming around her head. The man leaned back up to his full height, his head still tilted, the smirk finally finding its way to his lips as his eyes then began to roam from her face down her body. This caused her mouth to drop open, utterly appalled at the action, yet she could not hold back the heat that began to rise beneath her cheeks. Clearing her throat, Elizabeth tucked a strand of her dark brown and straight hair behind her ear and then moved her hand back down to join the other one, clasping it in front of her body as she lifted her chin indignantly and looked up at him. “I believe the Lord sent you, as a sign.” she said confidently. The man’s eyes moved back up to hers finally, though they had been taking quite a long time traveling back up her body, then they flicked over to the statue that was behind her above the alter. “Him?” He asked, before looking back at her. Elizabeth’s mouth pressed into a thin line for a moment and she gave a nod. “Yes. I prayed for a sign that some change would come from this war, and then you burst through the doorway.” “I am a sign? Of what?” “Of change, hopefully.” She said as she gave him a small smile. 

He gazed at her intently for a moment before he then took a step toward her, which caused her to lean back a bit, the pew hitting against her backside and keeping her from being able to move away any further. He then reached forward suddenly with his hand, taking hers and bringing it upward. The man then bowed slightly, looking up at Elizabeth as he did, bringing her hand up toward his forehead and then pressed the tops of her knuckles against it before lowering it back down. “You have my thanks.” he said before standing back up. “As well as my promise.” Elizabeth’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, unsure of what he was promising. “The next coming siege, no harm shall come to you.” She looked into those blue eyes of his, searching them for truth, clearly seeing that he was indeed showing that he meant what he said, yet she still had to ask. “How can you be certain?” He then rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and removed from his wrist a bronze bangle of sorts, when he held it up in the light of the torches around them, she noted that it was ornately crafted. The bangle itself had a corded design to it, twisting almost as it would wrap around one's wrist, at the ends of it, there were two heads that faced each other with open mouths. Wolves. She would later come to understand that this was a sacred arm ring used in Viking culture, as a means of promising allegiance or protection to someone. “Keep this with you at all times, and just speak my name. should someone ask how you have it.” Elizabeth stared at the bangle and then slowly reached out for it, freezing when he took her wrist gently in his calloused hand and turned it over, to where he placed it within her open palm. 

She looked down at his hand as it loosened its grip around her wrist, but lingered, his fingertips slowly moving down her wrist to her fingertips and then reluctantly letting go. “And what name would that be?” she asked, lifting her eyes up to his. “Ragnar Lothbrok.” he said, a twinkle in his eye. Somehow, Elizabeth knew who he was before he had even said his name, there had just been something about him that told her that he was a man of influence. “What shall I call you?” he asked after a moment, which brought a small smile to her lips. “Elizabeth.” was all that she said. It was not wise to divulge the fact that she was nobility to this man, who was to say that he would not use her as a means of leverage when it came to this war? Granted, there was no doubt that he had not noticed that she definitely did not dress like some common English girl. If he truly was Ragnar Lothbrok, then he was no fool. She had heard tales of his bravery, songs of his victories in battle and in life, yet she had never imagined coming face to face with the man. Let alone coming to find that he was extremely handsome and that there was something that seemed to draw her to him. A sense of interest and intrigue, she longed to learn more about him and more about his way of life. The sound of the guards once again coming through the hallways outside the chapel brought both of them back to attention, Ragnar looking over his shoulder at the door and then turning back to look at her. 

He moved closer to her suddenly, Elizabeth’s lips parting slightly as she looked up at him with wide eyes and her breath catching in her throat. He then lifted his hand up and gently brushed the side of her face with the back of his fingers and smiled down at her. “I do hope we meet again, Elizabeth.” he said, the sound of her name leaving his lips causing goosebumps to rise upon her ivory skin. Ragnar pulled away from her quickly and then suddenly spun around her, unsheathing a large knife and moving behind her, bringing it up against her neck at the same moment that the doors burst open once again. Instead of only guards entering the chapel, her uncle was there as well. When his eyes found his niece in the arms of an armed Northman, he held up his arms to the guards around him. “Stop, do not advance. My niece must not be harmed.” Elizabeth felt Ragnar let out a breathy chuckle at hearing that she was the niece of the King and she felt his fingertips tighten against her waist as his arm was wrapped around it. Ragnar glanced over his shoulder and saw the stained glass window and then began to back up toward it, bringing Elizabeth with him as he held her against him, the knife still poised at her throat. 

Once the two of them were in front of the window, Ragnar gestured to one of the gold candlesticks upon the alter. “Break it open for me won’t you, my lady?” he breathed against her ear. Elizabeth stared at the stained glass window and then shook her head slightly. “No. It is part of the house of God, I will not desecrate it.” She felt his hand tighten against her waist and he moved his face a bit to where it was somewhat against hers. “It is but a window, and while it is a work of art, it is nothing in comparison to this neck of yours.” he said as he pressed the tip of the knife against her skin, causing a speck of blood to appear and for her to take in a sharp breath. Elizabeth reached for the candlestick and picked it up, finding that it was rather heavy, but she managed to lift it a bit and then with a grunt, she hurled it at the window, closing her eyes as she did so, the sound of it shattering almost silent compared to the sound of her heart shattering. No sooner had the glass broken, Ragnar moved them closer to the window and then once he was within reach of it, he hopped up onto the ledge and released Elizabeth. She turned and looked up at him with wide eyes as he knelt there, then he looked over at her uncle and the guards and gave them a cheeky smirk. King Thomas narrowed his eyes at Ragnar and began to lift his hand for the guards to advance when suddenly Ragnar leaned back down toward Elizabeth, slid his hand behind her neck and into her hair and brought her face toward his as he leaned down. Her eyes went wide when he pressed his lips against hers in a lingering kiss and then pulled away, giving her a wink and then holding his hands out to the side and let himself fall backwards out of the window. 

Moving to the edge of the window, careful not to cut herself on the shards of broken glass, she leaned out over the edge, hoping she wouldn’t see a flattened Viking upon the cobblestone streets below. What she saw caused her to crack a small smile. Ragnar was lying in a haystack that was piled upon a horse drawn cart, his arms behind his head as he grinned up at her and then blew a kiss, followed by a wave of his fingers as it began to drive down the road.

@wolfy1712 @shit-i-say-shit-i-think

[written-in-flowers]

Just a horny little idea to put back in your back pocket in case you want to use it later, but remember Ros and Armeca brothel scene in season 1? Imagine Rosebud!reader and Emely doing the same thing to each other while Otto watches, or Daemon watches being a voyeur. Even better if both men are watching the scene unfold from different points of view (I.e. Otto watching from a chair while Daemon watches from some secret passage)

A/N: Yessss, I finally got around to finishing this one!! I had another request like it, so once again, I molded them together. I really hope you all like it!

Another part of my Sweet Rosebud, on my masterlist.

Warnings: threesome sex (kind of), voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, foreplay kissing and touching, bisexual!reader, oral sex (m. and f. recieving/giving), cock teasing, anal licking, anal play, breast/nipple play, spitting, scissoring, tad bit of dub-con, fondling.

***

What did he hope to gain by staying in King’s Landing? Rhaenyra’s nameday celebrations passed days ago, and yet Daemon remained in the city. Despite his contempt for court, rather than go back to Pentos where his wife and children waited for him, he had not left yet. Being King Viserys’s brother, he’d been invited to small council meetings with Lord Corlys, his new father-in-law. Otto detested it immensely. Daemon had no place at court anymore. He’d lost his positions as Master of Coin and Commander of the City Watch ages ago. Why was he here? 

Otto pondered on this as he stared across the table at him. Viserys invited him to tell them tales about possible alliances with the Pentoshi princes. Daemon’s long blond hair reached his shoulders now, and signs of his age began to show in his face. He was no longer the young Prince of the City people once called him. Yet, he still carried an air of arrogance and defiance that Otto detested. 

“-The Pentoshi princes haven’t done business with The Triarchy since I’ve arrived,” Daemon told his brother, “And I am confident enough to say that whatever dealings they did have with them is at an end. They have come to fear the Triarchy, and will do whatever they can to be rid of the pirates.”

“For as long as you stay there,” said Otto. “Tell me, my prince, what exactly did you do to convince those greedy scoundrels back in Pentos to not side with our enemies?”

“Because my wife, the Lady Laena, and I have become great allies to them. They admire our dragons and their strength.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Your lady wife…When exactly do you mean to return to her and your daughters? You certainly don’t plan to abandon them over there.”

“Whenever I return to my wife it is my business, my Lord Hand.” Otto did not like the smirk he gave before sipping from his wine cup, “What about your wife, Otto? I thought you’d be less irritable now that you have such a comely woman warming your bed.”

“Daemon,” the King said, “That is enough.” 

“At least you did your duty to your wife this time, even without The King’s blessing and leave to marry her.”

“I bet you do your duty to your wife quite often, my lord. I know I would if it were me.”

“Enough,” the King repeated firmly, “Otto, my brother takes great sport in provoking you, must you oblige him?”

You. That was why he stayed in King’s Landing. He hoped to bed you. He’d found you weeping in the royal sept in the early hours of the morning. You told him about what you’d done with Emely when he’d been away in Oldtown. This wasn’t any concern of his because he’d given permission to let it continue. What did concern him was Daemon, whom you said snuck into your chambers and molested you. He’d put his hands and his lips on you as Emely slept at your side. Otto would’ve run him through with a sword if The Gods only allowed it. You confessed to him, sobbing and ashamed, that you’d let him do it. Otto forgave you instantly. You weren’t at fault; Daemon took advantage of you. Him being a prince, it’d be considered treason if you’d fought back. 

King Viserys made it clear he’d forgive Daemon as he’s done so many times before. 

The small council meeting concluded with Otto’s report of his time in Oldtown. Trade routes were once again being thwarted by outlaws and thieves, so the Crown was compelled to send a small band of men to assist Oldtown in guarding its cargo lines. Otto made his way out of the chamber, intent on returning to you and Cedric before he spotted you in the corridor. You’d chosen a gown of powder blue silk and gold, which silhouetted your outline nicely. Behind you stood Emely, wearing her blue handmaid’s dress. The sight of you soured when he saw who’d stopped to speak to you: Daemon. He stood far too close to you for Otto’s liking, and he did not appreciate how his eyes seemed to take in every feature of your face. 

“-I recommend visiting The Free Cities, my lady,” he heard Daemon say as he approached, “They have treasures there you’d never find in Westeros.”

“I’m positive they do. Is it true that Pentoshi men dye their beards?” 

Why must you indulge him? “Y/N,” he said stiffly, coming up to your side and kissing your cheek, “What are you doing here? Is it Cedric? Is he alright?”

“Cedric is fine,” you told him. A lie. Cedric had difficulty passing bowel movements, and the maester looked over him this morning after Otto left. He supposed that given the present company, you’d kept it discreet. “I’d come looking for you before I ran into The Prince.”

Him and Otto shared a glance before Daemon said, “I was just telling your wife about Pentos. I suggested she try the Pentoshi wine I’d brought with me when I arrived. I think it’d suit her tastes, considering she’s so partial to Highgarden’s sweeter, more fruity wines.” 

“I can’t help loving the tastes I grew up with, my prince” you smiled sweetly. 

“Then perhaps you should indulge in newer, finer tastes-” 

Otto heard the suggestion in his tone, and immediately took your hand, “Forgive me, my prince, but Lady Y/N and I have to see Maester Bole. Our son’s been quite ill lately, and we left him in his care.”

Daemon looked at you with concern. It was the sort a man used to gain favor with a mother. “Oh, I hope everything is alright with him. He’s quite strong…for a Hightower.”

‘Damn you, you foul man.’ 

“Maester Bole is confident he’ll recover,” you said, putting your hand on Otto’s. 

“Daemon…” 

Right on cue, King Viserys came to his brother’s side, leaning on his walking stick with two guards behind him. Over the years, Viserys slowly wilted away from the man he’d once been. His silver hair thinning every day, patches of dry skin began showing up on his scalp and body. The sores and infectious boils the maesters found didn’t heal very well despite the treatments. Still, he managed to walk on his own for a short time. Otto did not know how much time he had left with the illnesses plaguing him. 

“I wish to speak to you in my chambers,” he said to his brother. “Before you head back to Pentos.”

Unable to refuse a king, Daemon looked over at you, “I’m afraid I must go, Lady Y/N. Take care…My Lord Hand.”

Otto and you bowed to the king as he walked away with Daemon beside him. Otto stared daggers into the man’s back. He’d only spoken to you to irritate him. It was your laugh that broke him from the anger. 

“Why do you encourage him?” he asked you as you steered him away. 

“I don’t encourage anything. He approached me, and I’m in no position to refuse him.”

“When you smile and giggle and speak to him,” he said, “It encourages him to keep pursuing you. I’d think after what he did to you in your room, you’d do your best to avoid him.”

“I have,” you remarked. “It isn’t my fault he always seems to know where I am or finds ways to catch me unaware. I didn’t know he’d be at the council meeting; he isn’t on the council anymore.” You wrapped your arms around his, and said, “I came to see you, Husband, to tell you about our son. You know, the child I bore for you and nobody else; the first of many I plan to have with you, my dear husband.”

Otto faltered. “Forgive me,” he resigned, “I know you don’t initiate it.” He kissed your hand and said, “How is the maester’s diagnosis?”

“Maester Bole says his bowel movements and constipation could be due to the lack of fiber in his diet,” you replied. “He suggested we breastfeed him until his stomach is better, so Aeda is tending to him. My milk dried up already, but she still has some.” You clasped your hand over his, “I thought we’d walk in the garden together. We haven’t done that in a while with all the business going on lately.”

“Would we truly be only walking,” he smiled, “Or would we be stopping in that shelter of flowers you’re so fond of?”

“I don’t mind either, but I do wish to walk with you.” 

You’d found a hidden corner of the expansive palace gardens hidden behind a wall of thick vines and flowers. Otto recalled the numerous times you both strolled the gardens, only to end up against a brick wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he filled you. Sometimes you both brought wine and food to talk alone. Other times, you stroked him while he admired your breasts. He didn’t mind either outcome today. In fact, he welcomed it. Because, in having you, he was convincing himself that you’d never let Daemon have you. 

****

“For The Rose of Highgarden.”

Emely read the note tucked underneath the small gift basket. Inside, she saw a bottle of Pentoshi wine, with an assortment of exotic cheeses and fruits from the land. She only knew it was from the Free Cities because of the strange writing on the bottle. Prince Daemon must have sent it. Emely knew the mere sight of this note and the basket would rile Lord Hightower. You and Lord Otto went for a ‘walk’ in the gardens a while ago, and would be back before supper. 

She’d picked up the basket to remove it before the door opened. 

“Ah, Emely, there you are.” You smiled at her as you walked into the room. She noticed that you’d combed your fingers through your hair, and the grass stains on your gown. Just as she’d thought. Yours and your husband’s unquenchable lust won out again. “Come help me out of this gown. It’d gotten muddy from being on the ground, and I’d like to change before supper.” You’d begun removing your earrings before you saw the basket in her hands. “What is this?” 

“A gift, my lady,” she answered. 

“From who?”

“Prince Daemon, my lady.”

Your eyes widened, and you rushed over to her. “Has Otto seen this?”

“No, my lady. I found it when I walked in. It had this with it.” 

She showed you the note and your eyes narrowed. “What is that vile man playing at?” you scowled. “First, he spies on me through the walls, then he violates me in my own bed, and now…” you took a deep breath, “Give me the basket.”

Emely handed you the basket. She stood by as you emptied the weak Pentoshi wine into your chamberpot, then tossed the basket into a fire. The cracking of the wooden basket went through the room as she turned back to you. 

“You never saw it.”

“I never saw it.”

“If Daemon asks you about it, you tell him I was thankful and enjoyed the gift greatly. Understand?”

“Yes, my lady.”

You surveyed her for a moment, then said, “Come. I must prepare for supper. Otto told me he’s going to visit the King once we’re done.” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

****

He walked up Maegor’s staircase again. He took care in being quiet, since he knew one misstep and he’d be caught. But, Daemon almost did not care. A part of him hoped he’d get caught. He hoped because then there’s the possible chance you’ll invite him into your bed willingly. You might be so aroused, you wouldn’t mind him doing more than touching. Daemon could almost taste you on his tongue, your sweetness filling his mouth as you climax. Emely had sold him another cloth, a piece of you that he can sniff and taste while touching himself. But, the things he’d do to get the real thing and not a rag were monstrous. 

Daemon reached the third landing in the secret staircase. Otto must still be at the emergency small council meeting; a meeting Daemon wasn’t invited to. But it doesn't matter. He had no interest in Westerosi politics. Why sit at a table, listening to boring realm business when he can spend his night watching you? 

He pushed open the panel to stand inside the space between the panel and the divider concealing him from view. Peeking through a hole in the wood, he saw you sitting at the end of the bed with Emely. You each wore the thin, revealing dresses women wore in brothels. Emely informed him that you and her planned to surprise Otto again. Being an old man, he doesn’t have the stamina for two women nearly every night, but he didn’t mind watching at times. Daemon envied him. He’d kill to have such a wife warming his bed…a sensual, licentious creature whose arousal is never fully extinguished…a wife who can’t get enough…He exhaled deeply, not wanting to build himself up too quickly, but how could he not? You were an erotic vision meant to torture him. The forbidden fruit he’d kill a man to devour. 

He’d purposefully sent you the basket in hopes of winning your favor. Daemon knew you’d be waiting for Otto outside the small council room, and he seized his chance. Emely told him you showed great interest in going across the sea to the Free Cities, visiting the different lands and experiencing their culture. He’d personally tell there’s nothing special about them besides the endless summer and queer customs. But, he liked the idea of you visiting his manse outside the city. He’d drape you in fine silks and golden jewelry, give you a chamber with a large, comfortable bed and servants to attend to your every need. He’d spend his nights admiring your body, and enjoying you in every position possible. Laena might object, but he didn’t care. It’s not as if he loved you. 

You and Emely only kissed for now. Your hand trailed down from her neck, to her shoulder and finally to her hand. He leaned against the wall and observed behind his wall. Emely cupped your cheek and brought you in for a deep kiss. Daemon looked down to see the dresses barely covered the both of you. The sheer fabric hardly covered your full breasts, and hinted at the nipples hardening when Emely’s hand brushed over them. Neither of you undressed the other. No, that was for Otto to see. Yet, you still ran your hands over the fabric on Emely’s body. He saw you kiss from her lips, giving the lower lip a small tug, before kissing her breasts. You cupped one of them gently, and pecked the nipple poking through the dress. Emely hummed in delight at this, giggling softly at your bold kisses. He wondered how long you two intended to tease each other. It’s not as if either of you knew when Otto would return. Emely returned the favor by grabbing both your breasts and sucking on them, still not removing your dress. Daemon wished it were him sucking your nipples. He wished it were him making you moan softly as his tongue swirled around them. Your pussy must be throbbing from Emely’s light kisses and touches. He watched you slide your hand up her thigh, her leaning back to let you lick her nipple, and placing your hand over her mound. Layers of clothes kept you from truly touching her, yet she whimpered all the same. 

Then, the door finally opened and Otto stepped into the room. His eyes widened at the sight of you two on his bed. The two women smiled coyly at him, each of them still fondling the other. 

“Evening, Husband,” you said first, no longer rubbing Emely’s sex but sitting up for him to see your body. “How was your meeting?”

“Long and tedious,” he sighed, his eyes taking in each of you. “What is the meaning of this, Y/N?”

What do you think, you bloody fool? Daemon scoffed quietly. If it were him, he wouldn’t be asking questions. 

“You seemed tense before you went to His Grace,” you told him, “I thought Emely and I would make a nice ending to a long day.”

How sweet. 

“How sweet,” he smiled wearily. “But, I’m afraid this old man doesn’t have the energy to spare for both of you tonight.” 

“Then, would you like to watch?” you asked. “At least, for now?”

“Of course.” 

You returned to kissing one another as Otto undressed, his eyes never leaving either of you. Daemon knew he’d need to be as quiet as possible now that Otto was here. He’d most definitely hear him if he made a sound. Wearing only his shirt, breeches, and boots still, Otto grabbed a chair to sit in front of the bed. Leisurely, he rested back to watch you and your handmaiden. He’d love to have that view to himself. 

***

Otto guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. You’d hinted that you’d like Emely to join you both again, and as wonderful as it’d be, he didn’t have the time nor the stamina for it. He can go two or three rounds on good nights, but lately, no night has been good. King Viserys is becoming ever more ill, and any moment he might pass, and Rhaenyra would be queen. He knew the moment she did, there’d be war. Very few people will accept her as their queen. Otto made another attempt at pressing Viserys to name Aegon, his first born son, as his heir. If Rhaenyra ascends the throne, his children and grandchildren will be put to the sword. 

You and Cedric will be far away before that happens. 

For now, he planned to simply enjoy watching. That is, until he grows so hard he cannot help himself and must have you. Emely untied the knot holding your dress up, and gasped when it fell to your waist. Your tits had a tight hold on him. His body temperature rose and his heart beat faster whenever he saw them. Emely took both of them in her hands, and licked flat strips up each nipple. While she did this, you untied her dress to reveal her chest to him. He heard a small click, and you removed the beaded belt keeping her dress cinched at her waist. Emely then stood up so the flimsy dress fell off her body, showing off the rest of her figure. You each looked over at him as Emely straddled one of your thighs. He spotted your tongue licking at her breast while your hands grasped her ass from behind. You spread her cheeks so he could see her tight ass hole; a hole that he can tease while you licked her pussy. Emely groaned softly as you teased her. 

“Smack it,” he said, his eyes unable to look anywhere else. 

You obliged, giving Emely’s bottom a soft smack. 

“Harder.”

You smacked it harder. You did this a few more times to each side; Emely yelped in surprise to each spank. His cock strained against the front of his trousers; it pushed against the lacings and begged to be let out. Not yet. He bit his fist when she stood you up, and undid the belt of your dress. Both of you entirely naked, you came together again and kissed. He groaned at nipples brushing against one another, and hands sliding down to each other’s sex. You whined when her hand slipped between your thighs, and he saw the circulating motion over your lips. You returned the touch, causing Emely to moan as she kissed your neck. You bent Emely over the bed, so her ass stuck out in the air while she hugged a pillow. Otto groaned seeing her pussy and ass splayed out for him to see. Having one hand around her to tease her clit, you spat over her ass to let it drip downwards. Emely’s moans filled the room when you started licking her ass hole. He imagined the pleasure that must be burning inside her. He wondered how long you two had been touching each other. 

“Lick her cunt,” he ordered, palming his raging cock through his pants. 

Sliding down onto your knees, you wagged the tip of your tongue on her from side to side. You placed yourself in a position to make it easy for him to see, and he thanked you for it. He rubbed his hand over his tip; he felt a wet spot seeping through the fabric when he did it, and it encouraged him further. He grabbed hold of himself and stroked what he could feel, grunting softly as he watched. Your tongue began moving faster, making Emely grind her hips onto your face; you took her whole clit in your mouth and hummed. He knew he loved it when you did it to him; the soft vibrations in your throat whenever he slid down far enough drove him wild. You kept doing this until Emely begged for more. 

You climbed back onto the bed, laying horizontally as you put your left leg under her right, and your right leg over her left. You both scooted closer and closer before your sexes touched. Otto walked to the end of the bed, where he had a better view. He untied his lacings, seeing lips spread and sliding over each other whenever you both grinded together. Otto bent over your centers to spit at your pussy, helping it get wetter and therefore sliding easily against Emely’s. Your moans sounded so sweet and needy. Your pussy must be throbbing, and dying for release. He leaned forward and began rolling his tongue between the two moist clits brushing together. Each of you moaned louder at this, bucking your hips as he sucked up the juices flowing to the top. Otto finally pulled out his cock, and fisted it while he continued pleasuring both of you. You occasionally stopped so he may focus his attention on one woman at a time before letting you continue. He moved to stroke himself until your hand caught his member first. Otto groaned at the new sensation going through his body. He continued watching both of you rub together, his mouth hanging open at the delicious sight. It was when he was pinching her nipple that Emely came first. Her stomach and thighs tensed, and her mouth hung open as she desperately rutted against you. Neither you or Otto did anything, only keeping on with the same rhythm that had the handmaiden trembling all over. He looked down to see her cum, creamy and white, mixing with yours as you soon came after her. He couldn’t help it. He leaned down again to taste the mixture in front of him, making sure his tongue touched each sensitive bud to heighten your climax. 

****

Daemon had seen many erotic things in his life, and watching two women was by far his favorite. Especially when he desired one of them so much. He listened to the mewling, desperate sounds coming from you before your climax. You looked most beautiful when you were cumming. He picked up the pace on his cock, but he wanted more. A deep, burning ache for a tight hole took over him. He squeezed himself tighter, keeping his eyes on the scene progressing in front of him, and imagined being in Otto’s place. You pushed him onto the bed, straddling his lap in reverse so he had a view of your ass. You began sliding your wet pussy over his raging cock. Oh, you little tease. His eyes scanned your body. He took in your luscious curves, outlined so well against the firelight nearby, and saw your ass rocking back and forth. He imagined Otto could see your pussy spread out over his thick cock. My, you must love riding him. He hoped you’d ride him some day. 

Emely, her purpose clearly done for tonight, dressed herself again while watching you whirl over Otto’s stiff cock. He knew what he’d do. Daemon couldn’t have your hole, but he could have hers. He waited until she’d exited the room to jump out from his hiding place, using the panel on the opposite side of the landing to be in the corridor. Quickly, he grabbed Emely by her waist and dragged her inside. She gasped, but only for a moment, before she realized who it was. Daemon pushed her against the side of the small enclosure, pulled her dress up around her hips, and pressed his tip to her soaked entrance. He put his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet as he slid fully inside. She bent forward to place her hands on the wall and spread her legs apart. She wanted this. She only served to liven up the couple’s sex life, not to fully be a part of it. Daemon would fix that for her. 

“Won’t you…Won’t you let me put it in, Rosebud?” he heard Otto ask. 

“Not yet,” you giggled. “I haven’t tasted it first.”

Daemon looked back into the room to see you kiss down Otto’s body to his groin. Your mouth immediately encompassed the tip, and you moaned softly. Emely’s tight sex clenched him while he shoved in and out of her. His body begged him to pound her, but he restrained himself. He’d enjoy the pleasure for as long as possible. At least until Otto started fucking you. 

Then, it happened. The moment was brief, and he could be entirely wrong. But, as you licked up and down Otto’s shaft, you glanced over to where he stood. You must’ve remembered from the last time he watched you. Daemon held back a groan realizing this. Your eyes locked with his, whether you knew or not, as you tenderly sucked your husband’s cock. You made your moans audible even when reaching the back of your throat. You didn’t look very long, but whenever your head turned his way, you looked at him. Did you hope he was there, stroking himself to your body? He’d do it out in the open for you, if you liked. 

The thought of barging in and fucking you in front of your husband made Daemon thrust into Emely faster. He kept watching you pleasure him with your mouth, grabbing your pussy as you did it. He’d lay right behind you, grabbing your hips, as he slammed into you. Otto would get the pleasure of your moans vibrating on him while Daemon enjoyed your pussy. He’d forget his feud with Otto for a few minutes if it meant getting a taste of you. He gazed down to where his body met Emely’s and dreamed of it being you. 

When Otto appeared to have had enough, he maneuvered you onto your front and pulled your hips into the air. Good. The best part. Your husband leaned over, wrapping his hand around your throat as he brought you to him. Daemon saw him whispering in your ear, and you were almost unable to answer. 

****

“You little slut,” he hissed into your ear, charging into you. 

Your pussy, wet and hot, sucked him into your body every time he pushed inwards. His tip seemed to know where to hit instinctively. He kept his hand at your neck while he watched you looking over at the wall nearby. Daemon wasn’t the only one who knew of Maegor’s secret staircase. He used it several times himself. Not only to spy on you, but on anyone staying in his tower. During your walk, you wondered how he’d gotten into your bedchamber without using the door, and Otto told you. He said he’d have the pass blocked right away, yet you begged him now to. He then realized how much you enjoyed it. You explained it wasn’t because of Prince Daemon, but the thrill of being observed in general. You told him it reminded you of a performance, where all eyes stayed on you while you pleasured yourself or others. It made the experience more thrilling. He saw it even now. He noticed you arched your back a bit more, and stayed on your elbows so anyone watching could see your breasts move with the force. 

This took him to a whole new level. 

"You like him watching, don't you?" he growled, keeping himself deep inside. "Him standing in the shadows watching you be fucked like a whore. You must love the attention." 

"Yes, I do,” you answered in sharp breaths. 

"Say you like it," he let go of your neck and gripped your hips tightly. Keeping you in place, he started going faster, his balls slapping into your pussy each time. "Say you like it."

"I like it! I like it!" you cried in every thrust.  "I like it so much. Please, let me…let…me…"

"Let you 'what'? Use your words."

"Let me keep doing it. Please. I love it so much. Please."

He’ll confess he’d prefer to rip Daemon from the wall and toss him out the window, but when his sweet rosebud makes a request, he cannot deny you. Anything. Otto knew boundaries would need to be drawn later. He knew you’d never allow Daemon anywhere near you, but he’d like to make it clearer to you. Sometimes, your appetite tended to run away with you, and only The Gods knew what you’d be doing otherwise. But, he liked that about you. Kissing up your back to your shoulder, he reached around for a pillow to place underneath you; a small cushion let you take weight off your arms without breaking the position. You braced yourself against it, planted on the mattress and submitted to him. Otto continued kissing across your shoulders, nipping and sucking while he listened to your moans elongate and crack. As always, when he has you naked, Otto can’t resist grabbing your tits. He wrapped his arms around you to cup them. His hands between the pillow and your chest, he let your hard nipples brush on his palms when they bounced. He knew the added pleasure will build up inside you. 

He somewhat liked this. He knew Daemon desired you. He made no attempts to hide it whether Otto was present or not. His spies in the city told him Daemon took to visiting a prostitute who greatly resembled you. He saw how Daemon watched you from across rooms, and made excuses to see you. Otto believed he did it because of his loss. Daemon Targaryen did not like losing, and he’d “lost” to Otto when Gareth chose his old friend over a prince. It must be killing him to watch the object of his desires be pounded into the bed by someone else. He pictured the prince grinding his teeth and glaring at him right now. Otto grinned, looking down at your naked body, so tight and tense from your oncoming orgasm. You are a vision. You are everything Daemon wants and cannot have. He married Lady Laena Velaryon to keep bloodlines pure, but he wants you for pleasure. Otto couldn’t fathom the depraved, vile acts Daemon might make you perform if you became his. He need not marry you. Lots of men have mistresses outside of their marriages. You’d be the pretty pet he can take to bed whenever he wishes. Unfortunately, you never will be. 

“You’re mine,” he grunted. “All mine.” 

You knelt up until your body pressed to him, your head on his shoulder and your hands on top of his. “Yes,” you panted, “Yes, I am yours.” 

“Say that louder,” he squeezed your breasts hard and thrusted up into you, “Say that louder.” ‘So he can hear you’.

“I’m yours,” you cried at the new angle, “I’m yours, Otto.” 

“Get on top of me.”

He laid back on the bed, and let you straddle him quickly. Your pussy immediately found his tip and slid down it with ease. It’s as if you were made for one another. Otto felt it in his heart. You were meant to be his. He reached down between you for the center of your clit. He knew exactly what pattern to rub to make you squeal and giggle from the ticklish sensation. This time he didn’t stop. He wanted Daemon to see how easily he can undo you. He doesn’t need to be a strapping young man to make a beautiful woman climax over and over. Soon enough, he had you shuddering and digging your nails into his chest for a third time tonight. Even if he already felt weary, he’d keep going simply to show off to the man behind the wall. A distinct warmth hit his balls when he realized you were cumming so much, it leaked onto them. 

“Look at the mess you’re making, sweetling,” he cooed, sitting up to kiss you as your orgasm softened, “All your cum dripping and smearing everywhere on me.”

“I’m sorry,” you pouted, “I’ll clean it up…if it pleases you, my lord.”

“It would please me,” he kissed your neck, sucking hard at the base until you whimpered. “It would please me greatly.”

****

Daemon nearly came twice seeing you underneath and on top of Otto. He couldn’t stop staring at your body. He couldn’t stop himself from wishing your father permitted him to marry you. Daemon told him repeatedly that he was the uncontested heir until such time his brother has a son. He rode a dragon, had a title and no wife or children. You’d be a queen one day, he told Lord Gareth, and yet the man still refused. He would’ve taken you to Dragonstone, where he’d make love to you constantly and keep you all to himself. He rammed himself into Emely’s throbbing cunt. She’d cummed long before him, her juices dripping down her thighs and thickly coating his cock. But, he didn’t care much for her comfort. 

It was you he admired and desired so fiercely now. Yes, he’d hoped to marry Rhaenyra but she married Ser Laenor instead. He married Laena because at least he’d gain an alliance with Lord Corlys, especially after the Battle of the Stepstones. They’d been married for some time now; having two twin daughters and living in Pentos. Daemon only came back for business, and followed Lord Corlys to court in King’s Landing. It was by chance Rhaenyra’s nameday celebrations were in full swing when he showed up for the tourney. Chance brought you back into his sights. It brought blood flowing back to his groin. He felt younger than ever standing in front of you; seeing you naked, sweaty, and sucking Otto’s wet cock clean made him feel alive. He’s happy enough with Laena, but she doesn’t stoke the fires that you do. Not even Emely, with all her expertise and beauty, kindled the flames as much. 

Your mouth. Gods, he loved your mouth. Those soft lips engulfing Otto’s tip looked delectable. He pictured them on him. He made Emely get to her knees, the woman shaky and drooling from the constant stimulation, and slid himself in her mouth. She sucked him hard and fast; she knew when he was close to bursting, and so would you. In his fantasies, you always knew what to do. He turned over to see you using your hand and mouth at the same time, causing Otto to let out a stream of curses and moans. You did the same in his dreams. You looked up at him with pretty, lust-filled eyes as you milked every drop from him. He’d spill it everywhere. He’d pump it down your throat or in your cunt or your ass. Wherever you wanted him to at that moment. Seeing you with Otto now, he guarantees the old man tries to do the same. He’d do anything to please his “little rosebud”. 

You’re not a ‘rosebud’ to him. 

You’re a ‘fireplum’.

You were the low hanging fruit grown in the groves of Highgarden. Looking like the average purple plum, once bitten into its fiery spices burst into your mouth. You might’ve fooled the court into thinking you’re a virtuous, proper lady, but he knew the truth. You’re far from a lady once your parts are properly warmed and ready for use. His use. 

Daemon forced himself to remain quiet while his orgasm approached. He saw Otto’s body stiffen up, his hand clutching the sheets at his side while the other held you by the hair, and you kept your eyes on him. What a delicious sight you were. He’d love to have you sitting on his face while you sucked him dry; he’d tease and clean that oversensitive clit until you came again. When you whine, he’d tell you that he only meant to clean you and it’s not his fault you’re a insatiable cock slut. He focused on the fantasy until he reached his peak; the pleasure washed right over him, knocking him over into the wall behind him. He felt his own warmth surround him as it filled Emely’s mouth. On the other side of the wall, he heard Otto climax as well. He kept you firmly pressed against him and unloaded his seed in your throat. Daemon heard you struggle for a bit, gagging on the thick substance, but your knowledge kicked in right away. He saw how your throat gulped it all down. You’d do the same to him one day. Then, he’ll tell you to open your mouth so he can check if you swallowed all of it before you thank him for giving it to you. 

Otto clearly wouldn’t let you rest any time soon. You wiped your mouth before he kissed you, not something Daemon expected from him. Kissing down your neck, he brought you down onto the bed and groped both your breasts. Daemon took deep breaths, his body heat making the stuffy space suffocating, and watched Otto continue kissing and fondling you. He kissed you so softly; touched you tenderly as he stayed between your thighs. Once again, he both saw you exchange words he couldn’t hear from his distance. 

****

You loved being in his arms afterwards. Even with the sweat and fluids exchanged between you, you enjoyed Otto’s warmth and touch. However languid it was, it felt nice being taken care of afterwards. Otto’s semen left a special taste in your mouth, slightly salty and hot, which you continuously swallowed to have more of. Otto’s lips dotted across your shoulder and collarbone; his mustache and beard tickled your skin lightly considering he hadn’t trimmed it yet, which you liked. 

“Otto,” you called him softly, wrapping your arms around him and tangling your hands in his hair, “Does it trouble you?”

“Only a tad,” he replied, stopping his kisses to look at you. “Only because it’s…Him…”

Emely admitted her betrayal a few days ago. After the prince broke into your chambers to touch you, you realized he must have some secret way of spying on you. When you brought this information to Emely in confidence, she suddenly burst into tears. She admitted to spilling your secrets to Prince Daemon, and that he’d spied on you through a passage in the walls. She told you how he asked her questions about you in exchange for gold; how he greatly desires you. So much so that he’s taken to stealing scraps of cloth you used to clean yourself with. A slight ache hit your chest hearing her confession, but you did not dismiss her. Not only because you enjoyed her company, but because she knew things about you that people might try exploiting. You encouraged her to keep on giving him what he wants. You learned to enjoy “performing” for him privately. You often touched yourself at night on the possibility he’d be there. If you keep enticing the prince, being the thing his cock desires most, he’ll do anything to get it. Perhaps one day, being a desirable object to the Rogue Prince might be beneficial to you and Otto. 

Because, Otto owned your heart. Ever since your first meeting in Highgarden, when he arrived for the Harvest Moon Festival, you’ve wanted nobody but him. He met all your standards and exceeded your expectations. He’s gentle and kind to you; he respects your boundaries and listens to your worries. Otto loved you. You knew he did. The remarkable sex only made you want him more. 

“We can always continue this in our own chamber,” you said, grinding yourself into him despite the tingling there, “Where you can have me all to yourself.” 

Otto moaned into your next kiss, “As tempting as that offer is, my love, I’m afraid I must decline.”

You frowned, “Tired, love?”

“Extremely,” he nodded, rolling off you and laying on his back. You curled up next to him, settling underneath the sheets with him. “Prince Daemon does not live in Westeros anymore, but continues to be a thorn in my side. He married Lady Laena to strengthen ties with House Velaryon, yet moved across The Narrow Sea because his trick with Princess Rhaenyra did not work.”

“But that was so long ago.”

“Even so, I can tell he still covets the throne. Knowing The Prince, he’ll weasel his way into getting it.”

“Why does it bother you so?” you asked him, seeing the creases in his face harden as his expression did. 

“Daemon will be Maegor reborn, or worse, if he should ever take the throne. Should The Gods work their mysterious ways to place him at Rhaenyra’s side, he will no doubt rule through her. He’s gained a lot of influence on her, especially after the brothel incident.” 

“That and he’ll take your place as Hand of the King, and we’ll go back to Oldtown.”

“We?”

“I am your wife,” you grinned, kissing his jawline. “Cedric and I go wherever you go.”

He scoffed, “As if Daemon would allow that.” He took one of your hands in his, and gave a soft squeeze, “I’m certain the man will have me beheaded, then take you as his paramour. If we’re lucky, he’ll let Cedric live. He has no ties to the throne. He doesn’t challenge Rhaenyra’s claim in any way.”

“Your grandsons and granddaughter do,” you replied. 

“They do.” He squeezed your hand absentmindedly, “She’ll slaughter them all. She must, if she wishes to remain unchallenged.”

“Then why won’t The King name Aegon or Aemond his heir instead?”

“Because he’s a fool who favors his daughter more than the rest of his children,” he said. “A woman has never sat The Iron Throne before, and I doubt the lords of this land will allow one too without protest. Her being named heir caused ripples throughout the realm that Viserys did not foresee, and I doubt he will be around to witness them himself…Lucky fool…”  He looked over at you, “When the day comes that things change, I want you to take Cedric and go to Highgarden.”

“Highgarden?”

‘Your father will protect you. You’re safer with your family.”

“I’m safer with you.”

“I will not be able to leave King’s Landing. I must stay by Aegon’s side, and try to guide him through his rule,” he said. “And if you remain here…”

You cut him off with a kiss. You let the kiss deepen before pulling away. “Let us not dwell on Daemon Targaryen and the things he ‘might’ do one day,” you said, putting your leg over Otto’s and curling up to him, “And focus on the present which involves the both of us staying here, talking of more pleasant things until we fall asleep.”

“Fair,” he answered in a kiss, “How was Cedric today?”

“Very well. He’s drinking more milk now so the maester says his indigestion might have passed.” 

“Good. Aeda says he doesn’t cry as much.”

The two of you continued talking about your son and your days before Otto drifted off to sleep. The creeping thought of one day having to leave his side kept you from sleeping. King’s Landing was not your favorite place in the world. Otto’s presence made it more tolerable. As much as you’d love to go home to Highgarden, it wouldn’t feel the same if Otto didn’t join you. You refused to entertain the thought of losing him. Otto is a strong, cunning man. He’d find a way. You gently pecked his cheek, and shut your eyes. Daemon Targaryen might desire you, but Otto Hightower loved you. You’d never leave him without a fight. 

****

He dismissed Emely right when he finished, fishing for coins to hand her before sending her on her way. Daemon stayed in his hiding spot to rest while watching you and Otto underneath the covers. He remembered what he said about Otto’s heavy sleeping, so he felt no worry when he stepped out of the place. Unlike before, you did not roll away from Otto, but instead curled up beside him. You looked so peaceful in sleep. He couldn’t help envying the man again. 

Daemon walked over to the bed and stood on your side. Carefully, he lifted the sheet slightly to see your bare backside there. He bit his bottom lip seeing the plump bottom right in front of him. He positioned his hand like Otto’s, and cupped one buttock. He did not squeeze you, however, since he knew any pressure might wake you up. But, he couldn’t resist sliding his hand further down to your thighs. Daemon’s jaw dropped in a silent groan when his fingertips caught a bit of wetness. He paused when he thought he heard you stirring, but continued once you settled. Your sex rested right on Otto’s thigh. You could easily begin humping him if you wanted. Daemon knew if he were Otto, he’d let you ride his leg like a bitch in heat any time you wished. Daemon licked his fingertips, tasting your wetness on them, before he rose from the bed. 

He’d have you one day. He didn’t know when, but he’d have you as his. The best part? You’ll want him back.

[proelium]

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝         priscilla quintana,  35,  demi woman,  she + them.    announcing  the  arrival  of  MELANTHA  of  house  BOLTON NEE ROYCE,  the  RULING LEIGE  of  THE DREADFORT.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  DOMINATING  and  PARANOID  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  falconry.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  juxtaposition of feminine wiles and fanged beast laying in wait, the shadows and night calling to you, uneasy feeling of secrets being seen under knowing eyes.  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  THE VALE / THE NORTH.   

statistics… 

# basic information.

official  name:  melantha bolton nee royce.  nicknames:  mel, to family.  noble  title:  ruling liege of the dreadfort.  date  of  birth:  january 2nd.  age:  thirty five.  birthplace:  gates of the moon.  home:  the dreadfort.  nationality:  westerosian.  gender:  demi woman.  pronouns:  she and they.  orientation:  panromantic pansexual.  monikers:  the black moon.  languages:  common tongue, smatterings of low valyrian.  accent:  one customary to the vale.

# physical information.

faceclaim:  priscilla quintana.  ethnicity:  mixed mexican ethnicity.  hair:  raven black.  eyes:  seafoam green.  height:  five feet, nine inches.  build:  slim.  scent:  tbd.  dominant  hand:  left.  allergies:  pollen.  scars:  tbd.  distinguishing  features:  tbd.  clothing  style:  customary of the vale and the north, heavy furs, etc.

# personality.

label:   the lone wolf, the cataclysmic, the black swan, the serpent.   mbti:   the executive   enneagram:   the investigator.   element:   fire.   star   sign:   capricorn.   temperament:   choleric.   character   inspirations:   tbd.   deadly   sin:   wrath.   heavenly   virtue:   diligence.   godly   parent:   ares.

# drives.

hobbies:  tbd.  religion:  the old gods.  alliance:  the vale and house royce above all, then the north.  personal goals:  expand house bolton's influence.  would they choose family or power?  power.

# familial ties.

parent one:  tbd.  relationship:  tba.  parent two:  tbd. relationship:  tba.  spouse:  tbd. relationship:  tba.  sibling:  tbd. relationship:  tba.  other:  tbd. relationship:  tba. 

  narrative...

melantha is unaware of their biological parents, aside from being told how their mother's labor stretched for days on end only for them to emerge without a sound. the history of them coming to be with the royce's had never been any of their concern when she'd never been treated as anything aside from their child that they eagerly accepted into their home. runestone and the gates of the moon were the only homes they knew, only family she cared for until they were old enough to acquire a found family while traveling through the vale, and at some point, through all of westeros to learn.

when they became of marrying age, an alliance with a northern house was one melantha accepted without fuss despite the reputation house bolton had. it suited the shadow that moved through the corridors in near silence, startling blaze of their eyes denoting their presence. the southern court had never been one of interest to them, only a den for lizards to lay yet they have found themselves intrigued more and more by the persons gathered in the name of the queen and by default, what they can gain from it.

# wanted  connections.

[izzyfromdeadspace]

This is written for @blank-vessel about their muse L and his life being taken and warped by the church of unitology and a dark eldritch god. The song is 'Jeasus he loves me' by Ghost. Putting under a readmore due to the length that it may turn out to be.

The saint had been found and the church gave a grand celebration. For weeks they threw parades and parties to show their faith and to try and draw in more people into their faith. For the longest time they kept his identity a secret to drum up more hype. Glimpses were leaked and rumors went wild. People were whipping themselves up into a frenzy just trying to see the man who would bring their god to them. It all culminated in the day that he was to be finally revealed to the masses.

You see the face on the TV screen?

Coming at you every Sunday

You see the face on the billboard?

That man is me

The saint had to have certain characteristics to prove that he was the chosen one. His hair was to be white and flowing like the last breath upon a grave. He had to bleed blacker than the void and cause miracles with it. And then his eyes. They had to hold the sorrows of the world within them to show the humility of humanity and give hope to the world that they could be forgiven. It had taken years but they'd finally found him. After purchasing him from his parents he was sent straight into training.

The saint was schooled on how to behave in public. How to hold himself, how to dress, how to listen to his flock and give the proper prayers of absolution. Countless amounts of credits were spent to make his body perfect in every way. Any genetic deformities and diseases were wiped away thanks to an unlimited bank account and doctors who worked for money not ethics. As the day approached for the reveal he was told how to present himself and what the rules were to keep him in line.

You must dress proper to your station so as to not be mistaken for the common folk.

You must always keep the weight of sorrow upon your shoulders and in your eyes. Show the people that you carry their sins to save them.

Listen to their stories and prayers. Offer them peace and direct them to the church for absolution.

Denounce the nonhumans as abhorrations of our god. Only those pure of blood will be allowed to commune with our god and ascend to eternity.

Any donations are to be given to the church to help expand its reach.

The saint does not lower himself to the lusts of the flesh. He is to remain pure so his flesh can change to the will of our gods not the will of man.

On the cover of the magazine

There's no question why I'm smiling

Buy a piece of paradise

And you buy a piece of me

The day arrived to reveal the saint and everyone waited with baited breath. Expecting a godly form to emerge there was confusion when the saint emerged wearing black jeans, a black hoodie with a skull on it and heelies. The crowd would whisper and mutter in shock as he began grabbing random people and taking selfies. The smile he wore seemed almost maniacal. He carried himself as if he were weightless and moved through the crowd with no rhyme or reason. He ignored the wealthy and just seemed to have his own agenda.

I'll get you everything you wanted

I'll get you everything you need

You don't need to believe in hereafter

Just believe in me

"Oh that's fucked man." He listened to their stories and prayers as if forced. Making faces he just kept cracking open cans of monster and chugging them as if he didn't wish to speak to his flock. More often than not he'd walk away mid sentence and just start checking things out. He made fun of paintings in the church and had several removed as he claimed they didn't meet the will of their god. Yet no matter how much they asked he refused to show proof of his connection.

It all came to a head during one of the ceremonies when someone demanded that he give them some sign that he was the chosen and not some amalgamation of their version of the antichrist. The saint wasn't given a choice as he was brought to the marker and forced to touch it. As it lit up he began to choke and scream before he went silent. As they all prayed and began prostrating themselves they didn't notice how he began to change. They were all blind to how the world just seemed to get a little bit darker.

His hand seemed glued to the marker as his fingertips became black and his nails were pushed out to be replaced with claws. His mouth bled black ichor as human teeth were replaced with sharpened ones made for tearing flesh. His ears seemed to stretch out into points resembling an elfs. A sickening crack came from his back as a long bone like tail grew out and its bladed tip gleamed in the red light. Eyes once green flecked with brown turned black and red with a slitted pupil. His blood began rotting his clothes off as the doors all slammed closed and locked.

'Cause Jesus, he knows me

And he knows I'm right

I've been talking to Jesus all my life

Oh yes, he knows me

And he knows I'm right

And he's been telling me everything is alright

They began to whisper in awe seeing their saint change and begin floating above them. Blissful whispers turned to gasps of fear as his lips split apart to reveal his true grin and caused blood to flow freely down his chin. A seam appeared along his collarbone that moved down to his hips. As it spread open to reveal a mouth the screaming began.

Some started to tear themselves apart in a frenzy as others tried to escape. All those blessed by the blood became animals and the dead began rising. Bodies twisted and malformed they became beasts made to tear apart and kill all the living bodies around them. As the saint floated there seeming to feed upon their suffering their prayer and begging voices were mostly ignored.

A few wishing to escape all this were pulled in and consumed slowly. Those still alive watched in horror as their so called brothers and sisters slowly disappeared into the maw of their saint with sickening crunches and waves of blood. By the end the entire temple was turned into a graveyard patrolled by the dead whose entire purpose was to harvest suffering and flesh for their god.

I believe in the family

With my ever-loving wife beside me

She doesn't know about my girlfriend

Or the man I met last night

The slaughter wasn't on the front pages of the tabloids for long as the scandals started. Pictures of the saint started to appear showing him in bed or dating nonhumans. There was speculation that he was dating several people at once from how often he'd be caught sneaking out of their homes. It was hard to keep up with where he was coming or going from and it led to a bit of an outrage. People began standing up and demanding answers. Their saint was supposed to be the perfect vessel for their god. With his body twisted and formed into something nonhuman it led to a break in the church.

Do you believe in God?

'Cause that is what I'm selling

And if you wanna go to heaven

Well, I'll see you right

He began to do commercials and propaganda for the church after awhile. It was assumed that all proceeds would go to the church and to memorialize those who died during the awakening ceremony. A new main temple needed to be built as the last had become a graveyard and contaminated. Yet after each show or gig he did the money would disappear and nonhuman charity's would suddenly gain large anonymous donations overnight. It led to many higher ups in the church to call to have their saint collared and retrained.

You don't even have to leave your house

Or get out of your chair

You don't even have to touch that dial

'Cause I'm everywhere

His face graced the covers of magazines and posters. From pamphlets to promotional ads to brand advertising he would be seen everywhere. It was hard to go five feet without seeing the saint doing some sort of act. One one magazine he was interviewed for his thoughts on church politics. On another he was interviewed on what he imagined his perfect partner would be. From religious propaganda to sexual deviancy inserts he had a stranglehold on the plant. Despite his appearance and lack of holy divine glow people still wanted to know about him, see him, own him and to become him.

'Cause Jesus, he knows me

And he knows I'm right

I've been talking to Jesus all my life

Oh yes, he knows me

And he knows I'm right

And he's been telling me everything is alright

He disappeared suddenly out of the public eye. Rumors went wild from sudden inhuman love children to being captured by a cult and held hostage. Rewards were posted around to try and garner clues as to where he'd gone. The police and military bounty hunters scoured the cities trying to find any clue as to where he'd gone. They uncovered some old papers about the church's methods on creating the saint and the news went wild. Stories began being pumped out about the saint being a lab created being and not truely chosen by their god. People were debaing if lab grown beings could be considered people. The topic raged on for months as the hype never seemed to die down.

Won't find me practicing what I'm preaching

Won't find me making no sacrifice

But I can get you a pocketful of miracles

If you promise to be good, try to be nice

God will take good care of you

Just do as I say, not as I do

They never seemed to check the forests as who would be stupid enough to risk disappearing into their depths. If they had they would have found him rooming up with the last of the Nova's. They'd taken him in despite who he was but treated him like a normal person. Instead of asking for prayers and to be blessed they asked him to pull his weight. Where he once might be baptizing babies he was now harvesting vegetables and joining in on hunts to gather meat. Where he'd be getting interviewed and slapped onto any surface that sells he was asked to pick up after himself and keep it in his pants.

After several months he seemed to be really close to the endling of the Nova's and clung to her side. She warned him that if they were ever caught she'd be forced to be either sacrificed or taken by the church as another way to control him. But he didn't seem to care. And after awhile she didn't either. They had each other.

I'm counting my blessings

And I've found true happiness

'Cause I'm getting richer, day by day

You can find me in the phone book

Just call my toll free number

You can do it any way you want

Just do it right away

Their hapiness lasted two years before it caught up to them. During one of their dates they'd strayed too close to a campsite and he'd been recgonized. The humans had gone back to the city and informed the church who sent bounty hunters after him. They both fought tooth and nail to keep the life they'd made together. The humans had taken enough from the both of them and it just wasn't fair. It seemed like they'd actually pull it off until one of the hunters pulled out a marker and stabbed him with it. His eyes seemed to grow dark and he'd yelled at her to run. As he watched her run off the consequences of their actions came to fruition.

There will be no doubt in your mind

You'll believe in everything I'm saying

If you wanna get closer to him

Get on your knees and start praying

He didn't seem to fight them after that and had just become eerily silent. It was far too easy to bring him back to the city and into the hands of the church. They wasted no time cleaning him up to once again have their golden child, their saint, to control the masses. As they cut his hair and trimmed his claws he didn't react. They stripped away years of freedom and love from his flesh. It wasn't until someone complained about the glittering dust caked around his heart that he moved for the first time.

Crushing their jaw he stared deep into their eyes and kept his face emotionless. Voice hollow he demanded that they shut up and stop trying to erase her. Shoving the human hard they went flying and hit the wall with a sickening crunch. Taking a deep breath he moved back into his original position and let the others resume what they'd been doing. After months of reconditioning and an attempt at breaking his will he seemed ready to be reunited with the public.

Once again there were parades and parties. A large stage was erected in the center of the town for a great event where he'd be speaking. Dressed in the proper robes he was marched out and the public worshiped him just as they had before. If anything his absence had created an even more powerful cult that had strangled the city in it's grasp. As he stood before the crowd they'd see him smile.

'Cause Jesus, he knows me

And he knows I'm right

I've been talking to Jesus all my life

Oh yes, he knows me

And he knows I'm right

And he's been telling me everything is alright

As the leader of the church addressed the crowd in an epic speech he ended by telling them all that they could now see their saint at any time and that he was a perfect vessel for their god. As they all clapped the saint's smile just continued to grow. Flesh began to split and blood rushed down his chin. Robes once pristine now began to blacken and rot away.

In one quick movement he grabbed the leader by the head and was upon him. People watched in horror as the eyes were sucked from his head. They seemed frozen as he turned the man to face the masses and shoved a hand into his back. The cameras would pick up seeing a mass rise up through his body until it reached his head and he began to choke on his own blood. Using him like a puppet the saint made him speak using his own voice.

"And now the time has come to worship our god made whole. Rip off your flesh and embrace the agony!"

With a laugh the saint pulled his hand free and stood before them all nearly naked. The seam had returned and it burst open in a spray of black blood that covered the first few rows of people. As they began to change and rip each other apart chaos erupted. Those not tainted or blind by devotion attempted to run but didn't get far. Shadows erupted from every corner and began to drag people down into them as they screamed. Bodies were broken and melted into a paste that was sucked into the earth. The dead began rising in twisted broken forms.

Everyone watching the broadcast would be attacked in their homes and none were spared. As the sun began to set entire suburbs remained dark and lifeless. The saint just floated above them all feeding on the suffering and chaos. He devoured tjwir their bodies and began ripping apart the very city around him. Buildings rotted and flowed into his gaping maw until the entire city was gone. The earth in his wake was black and diseased. It rotted and spread like a fungus as if to begin to consume the entire world.

They had their saint.

'Cause Jesus he knows me

Jesus, he knows me

Jesus, he knows me

Jesus, he knows me

Jesus, he knows me

Jesus, he knows me

Jesus, he knows me

When all that remained was darkness he seemed as cold as the void around him. Staring into eternity his gaze was drawn to a small blue speck in the distance. Body closing up and returning to normal he seemed to fly to her. Frozen in the depths of the void his Nova lay crystallized and glowing. Soft blue light seemed only to illuminate the immediate area around her. As he seemed afraid to reach out she moved. Eyes opening up she gazed upon him and that love he'd thought gone shone back at him. As her light finally reached him she smiled.

[words-4u]

out with the old, in with the new - n.'p'.t

➩ read part 2: here

pairing: natahsa 'phoenix' trace x fem!reader (hangman x ex!reader)

wc: 1.5k

a/n: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS IS. I JUST SAW THIS GIF AND GOT INSPIRED SO ENJOY XX

top gun: maverick masterlist

call sign = phantom

a couple of days ago you received a phone call from warlock ordering you back to north island navy base because there was a serious mission and he was creating an elite group of fighter pilots to take part in it.

you immediately accepted (it was an order so you really didn't have much choice) and began packing your things. there was no doubt in your mind that hangman was gonna be there. he was one of the best pilots you've ever known, second to you of course and they would be dumb not to have him there.

you pulled up to your old stomping grounds aka the hard deck and the nostalgia hit you. you tried not to let it get to you because all you wanted to do was get inside and see who else was involved with this secret mission.

hangman, coyote, fanboy, payback and bob were all near the pool table chatting amongst themselves when you walked up to them.

phoenix was in conversation with bob but stopped and did a double-take as you approached. "and who is she?"

"oh god," hangman muttered.

you rolled up to the group and quickly noticed everyone else donned their beige uniforms which you have clearly forgone. you had just arrived from the airport so your clothes were more casual.

phoenix unashamedly trailed her eyes down your body taking a bit more time appreciating your exposed legs.

"ladies and gentlemen, welcome the one and only phantom," hangman said in the most sarcastic fake excited voice.

"jake..." you said matching his fake excitement. "i haven't seen you in like what? 2 years?"

"and yet it still wasn't long enough," he grinned.

"that's what she said," you and phoenix said at the same time causing you both to break out in a fit of laughter. when you caught your breath you stepped closer to the stunning brunette that was able to lighten your mood in just seconds.

"and you are..."

"phoenix," she stuck her hand out which you gladly took keeping intense eye contact with her.

"ahem," hangman cleared his throat desperately wanting to get rid of the growing sexual tension between you and the brunette.

"so you two seem well acquainted," fanboy motioned his head towards you and the cocky blond. "is there something we should know?"

you quickly looked to hangman. "well hangman... is there?"

everyone was standing around waiting to hear just how and why there was an underlying hostility between the two of you.

"y/n–erm i mean phantom was my girlfriend for almost two years," he spoke trailing off near the end.

you were taken aback at how easy it was from his to say it now when that was all you wanted 2 years ago. "so i guess it's easier to claim me now than it was back then huh"

"look, i really don't–" he started to rise from his comfortable seat on the pool table.

you held your hands up. "hey, whatever. i'm over it. what's done is done right?"

now people were really confused but you didn't care. all you wanted was to get an ice-cold whiskey in your hand.

"i'm gonna go to the bar," phoenix piped up trying to diffuse the weird energy that entered the space. "anyone want anything?"

"i'm coming with," you said already making your way there.

once you ordered your drink, phoenix took up space next to you. her forearms leaned on the bartop and as she looked at you briefly before looking away. "why do i get the feeling that there's more to it than both of you are letting on?"

"because there definitely is but i would rather not discuss it with 7 uniformed pilot fighters watching like it's some pay-per-view entertainment."

your drink was handed to you and you threw it back without hesitation.

"listen, i know we just met but if you wanna talk, i'm here... well for the next three weeks anyway,"

you sat in silence for a few moments as she nursed her beer.

"we met at top gun and we were together for a year and a half," you began. "i–i was so in love with him that besides training and exams he consumed my every thought. we were good together but he never wanted to go public and i get all the reasons why, hell, i even agreed to it at the start but a year went by and still not a soul knew about us or what we had. he continued flirting shamelessly with other women to keep up this facade and it grew exhausting. i felt like his dirty little secret and i hated it so i left."

"wow," was the first thing phoenix uttered. "i knew he was an idiot but not this much of an idiot."

scoffing, you played around with the ice in your glass. "but like i said i am over him and i am beyond ready for this mission."

phoenix was quiet before she spoke "can i say something?" to which you nodded.

"i would never hide you and excuse my boldness but i mean look at you! if you were mine, i'd show you off any chance i get."

for the second time that evening, phoenix was able to make you laugh while simultaneously making you feel the most intense set of butterflies you've felt in a long time.

"thank you," you said reaching for her arm and squeezing it lightly. you could feel her flex her bicep slightly and it was the hottest thing you've ever seen. "also the second part of what you said can easily be arranged."

"oh it can?" she smirked.

"i mean yeah if you play your cards right," you shrugged playfully.

"noted," she said pressing her thigh against yours.

hangman with his impeccable timing decided yet again to interrupt the moment.

"phantom, can we talk?"

you looked at him and noticed how serious he'd gotten from the boisterous person he was a couple hours ago. "sure..."

as you got up you turned to phoenix. "order me another one, i'll be right back."

hangman led you out the bar and onto its wide porch. he stood in front of you with his hands shoved in his front pant pockets while your back was against the railing for support. it was a safe distance but still intimate, one that slightly crossed the line of professionalism to anyone watching and someone was watching: phoenix.

"you pulled me out here to talk so talk," you spoke crossing your arms.

"i think i owe you an apology," he stated.

"you think?" you laughed dryly. "and what it took a couple years to have that thought?"

"i'm trying here, y/n and let's not forget who left whom, " he said.

"yeah well, jake i needed you try two years ago," you responded. "and of course, i left you! all i ever wanted was to be seen and i felt like i never was with you. like seriously what was it? were you ashamed of me or something? was that it?"

"no not all," he rubbed both of his hands over his face. "i swear to you i wanted to but i just didn't want us to be the talk of our class. i didn't want people to ridicule you and have our relationship overshadow your experience as one of the few female graduates of top gun in our year but trust me when i say that what we had... it meant a lot to me and i just need you to know that, okay?" he placed his hand over his heart in a bid to show you he was being his most genuine self.

you stared him down before coming to the conclusion that he was being sincere with his apology. the guilt was written all over his face. plus it was easier to forgive him than to hold animosity towards him when you both could be flying one of the most dangerous missions ever in just three weeks' time. "yeah, okay," you said kicking at invisible rocks on the deck.

hangman would never admit it but he still loved you, a part of him always will. it was the same for you as well. there's no denying that you will always care deeply for the man standing in front of you but you could never see a future with him, not with everything he put you through and especially not with phoenix who was able to make you feel alive again after spending only a few in minutes in her presence.

"so... i guess it's out with the old, in with the new?" he tilted his head towards the bar clearly talking about the gorgeous brunette waiting for you inside.

"shut up," you shoved his shoulder gently. "listen i–i actually like her so don't mess it up for me!"

"i can be your wingman if you want," hangman offered with a gentle smile.

"i think i'd rather die thank you," you joked.

he guffawed at that. "yeah i knew you'd say that now c'mon, let's get you back to your woman before she thinks we're rekindling what we had."

you faked gagged. "i possibly couldn't think of anything worse," and this time it was hangman who shoved your shoulder playfully.

you re-entered the bar a new person, a lighter version of yourself after the much-needed conversation with hangman. you didn't think you needed it until it happened but you were glad you cleared the air with him so you could put 100% of your energy into making phoenix yours.

TAGGED: @cloudbasic, @natasharomanoffisbaebby

[folklorebae]

𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐀𝐬 𝐋𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭'𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

Cast(s): Reader ft. Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Kenma, Akaashi, Kuroo

Cw: Swearing, reader being called "my wife" by Kuroo

• "𝐢'𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮." - 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨

Everyone knows Bokuto is a social butterfly, everyone loves him. If there's anyone in this world who doesn't like him, then the problem is them, not him. Attending the MSBY Black Jackals after-game party has probably started to become your rutinity. But, ever since the party started, you always see someone you don't know talk and sit next to Bokuto for an hour straight. While you on the other hand, try to keep yourself busy by talking with other members and their partner.

"Did I do something wrong?" Bokuto asks once you two arrive at your house.

You shook your head. "No, I'm fine, just a bit tired."

He cups your cheeks, looking straight into your eyes. "Is it because I talked to them? I promise it was nothing, they have a significant other. They actually like you and think you're pretty! They just ask for some advice because they think our relationship is healthy!"

You quickly pull him into a hug, burying your face on his chest. "I'm sorry! I was jealous for no reason!"

"It's fine. I probably would do something worse, if I were you."

• "𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭." - 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢

Not falling asleep after facetiming with you is a secret that Iwaizumi keeps from you. He misses you so badly and always curses the whole "long distance relationship" thing. He doesn't know why you wouldn't stop running around in his head, making his heart race and couldn't close his eyes. Until one day, he unexpectedly showed up in front of your apartment's door.

"Oh God, Hajime is this–" He presses his lips against yours, not letting you finish your sentence.

"Shit." He curses once both of you pull away from the kiss, taking oxygen as much as he can. "I'm sorry, I missed you too much."

"I missed you too." You murmur before grabbing the collar of his shirt and in a second, your lips met his for the second time.

• "𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝." - 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚

Dating Kozume Kenma or also known as Kodzuken is probably one of the biggest secrets you have in your life. Even your 14 year old cousin who's a fan of Kodzuken, doesn't know you live under the same roof with him. But that doesn't mean the public doesn't know that Kenma isn't single since two years ago, watching people make a speculation about "Who Is Kodzuken S/O?" is something that is quite entertaining for you. 

You gently open Kenma's gaming room door. "Ken? It's getting late, are you done yet?"

Kenma mouthed "Wait." to you before looking at his computer screen again. "Sorry guys, gotta pause this stream for a second."

You walk towards him while rubbing your left eye, a sign that you're sleepy. He leads you to sit on his lap and gives you a sweet kiss on the lips. "It's okay, you don't have to wait for me."

You hum as a response but in a second your desire to fall asleep is gone when you see his computer screen. "Fuck Ken! Did you forget to turn off the camera?"

• "𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐱𝐢." - 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

You thought you already tried your best to hide your apprehensiveness. How could you not feel anxious when the man you've been with for the past nine months asked you to have dinner with his parents? You inhale when Akaashi reaches out your sweaty hand. He tightly holds your hand before giving it a squeeze three times, such a simple gesture but has a deep meaning.

"My parents will love you." He assures.

"How do you know?"

"Well if they don't, I think we have to run away."

You chuckle at his joke then squeeze his hand four times. "You're crazy."

"Well, I'll take it as a compliment."

• "𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧." - 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨

When was the last time you visited your boyfriend's office? A year or a year and a half? You're not really sure. However, today you decided to surprise him and bring him lunch. 

"Come in!" He says from inside his room after you knocked on the door.

"Surprise!" You shout while showing him the lunch box.

"Oh wow..." He mumbles to himself once he tears his gaze away from his computer screen.

You lean down your upper body to give him a quick kiss and place the lunch box at his table.

"What makes you come here, your highness?" He asks once you sit on the chair in front of him. But before you could answer, your eyes met a framed picture of you on his table. You immediately grab it and analyze the picture, making sure it's you. "Didn't know you put my picture in here."

He raises his brow, lips turning into a lopsided smile. "Is it wrong to put my wife's picture in here?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, hiding how flattered you are. "You're a simp."

"Says you."

[babyboibucky]

Salt, Sugar and Viruses

Pairing: Office!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’ve been secretly making coffee for Bucky at the office.

Word Count: 1,962

Warnings: Two idiots just doing idiot things

A/N: This was done in a haste so I kinda hate it lol but I can’t get this story out of my head and thanks to @bitchassbucky for pushing me to write a full fic of this 🥰 luv u 🥺

MAIN MASTERLIST

"You have a crush on Barnes' grumpy ass?!" Sam choked out.

You angrily hushed him and frantically looked around the pantry to make sure that your secret was still safe. Fortunately, only you, Sam and Nat were inside having your respective afternoon breaks.

"What? He's nice. And cute." you told Sam as you stirred your coffee, smiling to yourself at the thought of your office crush, Bucky.

"How'd you even meet him, he works all the way at the IT department." Sam asked.

Nat snorted recalling the encounters she witnessed for the past few months. Some of which were unintentional but most of them? You had carefully planned out just so you could come up with an excuse to request for Bucky's assistance.

"She might have gotten viruses in her computer once...or twice. Or thrice." Nat teased.

The first time you met Bucky was when most of your files suddenly got corrupted. It was hella embarrassing because you didn't know shit about how computers worked and well, you've been illegally downloading torrents since the office's internet connection was a gift from the internet gods. Without a doubt, your computer was a nest for viruses.

Bucky showed up in your floor that morning and you almost sunk into your seat from shame. You'd heard the IT Department complain about everybody else in the office messing up their computer systems. When you turned around, Bucky greeted you with a charming smile and soft hello. You could still remember how he felt when he stayed behind you as you sat on your chair, bending over to take your mouse in his hand.

God, he smelled so good you almost turned your head to nuzzle your face into his neck.

He was very soft-spoken you realized; Bucky was kind enough to walk you through the process and to be honest, you couldn't recall a damn thing he said. Something about firewalls? And shields? Whatever, you didn't really listen. You just stared at Bucky as he explained everything, solving your problem in less than fifteen minutes.

Since then, your crush for Bucky grew bigger. You'd entered the elevator together a couple of times, shared small conversations that made your heart flutter. When those little moments didn't seem enough, you started your devious plan to fuck up your computer a bit. By the third time Bucky fixed your computer, he was already comfortable enough to tease you for being a "virus magnet".

"Hello? Young lady, come back to earth." Sam snapped his finger right in front of your face, interrupting your thoughts.

You clicked your tongue at him and swatted his hand away. "If you ever tell this to anyone, Wilson. You are dead." you warned, poinitng a finger at him.

Sam rolled his eyes, "It's so unfair how he's kind to you. Last time I requested for his assistance he got all smug and grumpy at me." he complained.

Nat shook her head in amusment, "That's because you've been downloading porn. You know the IT department can access our browser histories, right?"

You choked on your coffe, "WHAT?!"

Nat narrowed her eyes at you, "You been up to no good for you to react like that?"

You faceplamed, "I've been stalking his Facebook account."

Sam chortled, "What are you, in high school? Jesus, calm down. You're gonna be fine. Why don't you just tell him you like him?"

You made a face, "I'm not Nat to have the guts to do that."

Nat hummed, bringing her mug to the sink to wash it. "Why don't you start by making him coffee?"

"I don't know how he likes his coffee."

You received a pointed look from both your friends. You groaned in defeat, "Okay, fine. I know how Bucky likes his coffee."

Nat smirked, "Stalker."

-

Bucky always arrived in the office half an hour before nine in the morning. This gives him time to settle into his cubicle, buy a sandwich at the stall downstairs and to make himself a cup of coffee. It was his daily routine and upon going back to his desk after buying his breakfast sandwich, Bucky was surprised to see a cup of newly brewed coffee on his desk.

He looked around but there were no signs of anyone. There wasn't even a note of some sort. Carefully, he brought the cup to his face and inhaled its scent. Shrugging, he took a tiny sip.

-

"How's the little secret admirer doing?" Nat asked, grabbing a chair and sitting down beside you.

You deadpanned, "I've been leaving him his coffee for an entire week now and nothing's happened yet."

Nat frowned, "Are you kidding me? Why would you expect for something to happen when you haven't been leaving any clues?" she said.

"I'm shy, okay?! Maybe I should hide somewhere, check for his reaction. See whether I have a chance." you shrugged.

It was stupid of you to leave the coffee on Bucky's desk. You never stayed to wait for him. You just left it there without a note or anything that would even give him a clue about you and your little crush on him. You knew the reason why, of course. You were afraid of rejection. Sometimes, you'd feel like you have a chance with him since he was always so kind and warm to you. Not to mention, everyone in the office knows him to be grumpy but around you, he was totally the opposite of that.

But then again, maybe he was just nice to you because you were nice to him too.

-

One morning after leaving Bucky his coffee, you finally decided to leave him a note. You ran back to your cubicle to get a post-it and a pen. Before you could even walk around your desk, you spotted Bucky headed over to the pantry, the cup of coffee in his hand.

"Fuck, okay. Maybe I should just directly ask him out?" you thought to yourself.

You quickly followed Bucky into the pantry and almost whined when you saw that Sam was inside as well. You widened your eyes at him, signalling for him to leave but Sam was preoccupied on observing Bucky who seemed to be in a bad mood.

"Rough morning?" Sam just had to ask as you awkwardly stood by the doorway, finding the right timing to butt in.

Bucky's forehead creased as he let out a huff, "Rough weeks, actually." he answered.

You opened your mouth to say something comforting, wanting to lift Bucky's spirits up but he turned around and glanced at you and then back to Sam.

"Does anyone hate me in this office?" Bucky asked.

You and Sam exchanged looks, both of utter confusion before shaking your heads in unison. "Why'd you ask?" Sam asked.

Bucky lifted the cup of coffee that you made, "Someone's been making me coffee." he stated.

You cleared your throat, "...is it bad?" you asked.

Bucky made a face, "Terrible actually."

Ouch.

"I mean, the first time I saw it I was actually flattered. And then I took a sip and it's just...salty." Bucky said, pouring the coffee into the sink before throwing it into the bin.

Sam's head snapped towards your direction, his face almost red from biting back a laugh. Your face heated up at the realization that you've been putting salt into Bucky's coffee instead of sugar. All this time. You wanted to disappear right then and there. And Sam had to be the one to witness your huge failure.

"I thought it was a mistake since the next day, there was another coffee on my desk. I tried it out and it's still salty. It lasted a week, you guys. And I was dumb enough to keep on tasting it in hopes that it might have been a genuine mistake. But now I'm starting to think that someone hates me that much to fuck my coffee up." Bucky explained, face scrunched up into a mixture of irritation and curiosity.

Sam failed to stifle his laughter and exploded, "Funniest shit I've ever heard." he told Bucky before standing up and making his way to the door where you stood.

Your face was red and if the salt and sugar mishap was already humiliating enough, Sam decided to make things even worse for you.

"You really need to check the labels before pouring shit into his coffee." and with that, Sam gave your shoulder a squeeze before leaving the pantry.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself. When you opened them, Bucky was staring at you with an expression you couldn't paint.

"Did you...were you the one leaving me coffee?" he asked.

You secretly pinched yourself in the arm to check whether you were just dreaming. Fuck, you hoped you were having a nightmare but the pain that you felt made it clear that you totally fucked up.

You nodded in embarrassment.

"You hate me that much?" Bucky asked in disbelief, as if he was offended that out of all people, it had to be you.

You quickly shook your head, "No, God no! I just...it's because I..." you stammered, trying to find the courage to spit out the words you've been dying to tell Bucky.

Bucky tilted his head, "Because you...?" he urged.

Your hands balled into fists as you let out another deep breath. Bucky probably hates you right now, but whatever. This was your only chance and to hell, you were going to confess.

"Because I like you?"

You didn't think that Bucky's confused look could even turn more...well, confused. But he was looking at you incredulously as though you've grown a second head, or a third head.

"You like me so you decided to put salt in my coffee?" he asked again.

You honestly didn't know who sounded even more stupid now, you or Bucky. Because if he still didn't understand what was going on, he was dense as fuck.

"No!" you explained. "I wanted to make you a decent cup of coffee but I guess I was too careless and didn't realize that I've been putting in salt instead of sugar." you said.

Bucky didn't say anything after that. He just stared at you, but he didn't seem confused anymore. If any, he looked like he was processing the entire situation.

"You like me." he stated again.

Will your embarrassment ever end?!

"Yes, Bucky. And I messed up my chance and you know what? I'm just going to show myself out and leave you alone." you told him and forced a fake grin before attempting to walk out.

A hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back into the pantry. This time, Bucky was the one who looked embarrassed.

"I might have...done something pretty stupid too." he said, avoiding your gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You eyed him suspiciously, "What do you mean?"

"I uhh...I did something to your computer...the day before you requested for my assistance for the first time." Bucky admitted shyly.

It was your turn to get muddled at Bucky's confession. "But why?" you asked.

Bucky offered a shy smile, "Because I've been seeing you around the building and thought you were cute."

And then everything clicked. It was a light bulb moment for the both of you.

"Oh. Ohhh okay. I see." you said before suddenly breaking into laughter.

Bucky joined you and scratched his head, "I guess we're both idiots." he said, placing his hands inside his pockets as he stared at you.

"This went...way more interesting than I thought." you said with a nod.

There was a pause before you decided to speak up, "So, do you want coffee?"

Bucky beamed at you as he nodded, "As long as you'll use sugar this time."

-

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[mypoisonedvine]

the martyrdom of st. valentine (and other romantic stories) || dark!Bucky & dark!(stepbrother?)Steve x reader

summary: you wanted to surprise your boyfriend on valentine's day, but he and your foster brother have a surprise of their own.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon to the point of pretty much noncon), kinda stepcest (as per summary, steve is the reader's foster brother), bondage, a lil touch of degradation

2/14 to-do list

get waxed

get Steve out of the apartment

pick up chocolate-covered strawberries from bakery on 6th

blindfold and handcuff myself to the bed

be waiting for Bucky naked when he gets here

You sighed as you looked down at the paper, crossing the first and third items off the list. The second was going to be a bit harder, unfortunately; your foster brother had a habit of hanging around and cramping your style as much as he could manage. He felt like a real brother in that way… okay, maybe he felt like a real brother in most ways, a consequence of knowing him for most of your life, but he was definitely not your real brother. You remembered that each time you caught yourself staring too long when he was shirtless, or returning from the gym all veiny and glistening with sweat.

But you also remembered that he was still the closest thing to a real brother you'd ever had, and you scolded yourself internally for ever acting differently.

It didn’t matter now— you had Bucky, and he was the most amazing guy you’d ever met.  No, Steve was definitely not happy that introducing his best friend to his sister led to a relationship forming, but he couldn’t stop either of you in spite of his efforts to keep you apart.

Bucky had once expressed his suspicions that it was at least in part due to jealousy, if subliminal.  But you denied it unilaterally— he’s basically my brother, you told him, though it was more of a reminder to yourself than anything.

Perverted concerns about Steve’s motivations aside, Bucky was a great guy.  A bit of a sweet-talker for sure, and not exactly known for his ability to keep a long-term, serious relationship, but he was adamant that you had changed that and for once you were beginning to believe him.  You’d said from the beginning that you didn’t need this to be the proverbial ‘it’ for either of you but that you didn’t do hook-ups— especially with your brother’s friends, and extra especially with your brother’s closest and longest friend.  It only took a brief speech and two shots to convince you, now six months later and you were still going strong.

Days like this made you so happy you’d given in to his advances.  But they also made you regret giving in to Steve’s idea to be roommates in college.

“Stevie!” you yelped as he walked in, stuffing the to-do list into your backpocket.  “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“I doubt that,” he scoffed.  “It’s Valentine’s Day, I bet you want to see Bucky.  He’s coming over, right?  And you want me to fuck off so my best friend can go to town on my sister?”

You frowned, crossing your arms.  “I wanted to see you because I have a gift for you.”

“... you do?”  His eyebrow raised and you hoped your smirk looked just as smug as it felt.

“So do you want your gift or do you want to be an asshole?”

“Do I have to pick just one?” he joked.

“Just come over here,” you instructed, waving him closer.  He seemed hesitant, but eventually did as you’d asked.  From your other back pocket you pulled out two tickets.

“Rangers, center ice,” you beamed.  “For you and a date.”

“And this isn’t just an excuse to get me out of the house?”

“No, it’s a thank you for being such a great brother.”

“So, if I wanted to take Bucky…” he trailed off, already calling your bluff as you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, that’s just sad.  There’s no reason you can’t find a girl to take— god knows Bucky hasn’t spent a Valentine’s Day alone since the fucking eighth grade.  And you’re just as cute as he is!”

“Well, if you could alert the rest of the female population to that, that would be great,” he scoffed, “but until then I’ll take the tickets,” he decided as he took them from your hand.  “A Rangers game might be the only thing distracting enough to keep me from thinking about what you and Buck are gonna do while I’m gone.”

You were hoping for a little more enthusiasm considering how much the tickets had cost you, but at least he was going to go and give you the apartment to yourself for the evening.  “You’re welcome, by the way.”

After stripping and sprinkling rose petals on the comforter, you'd actually found a YouTube tutorial on how to blindfold and handcuff oneself, and it was a little odd that enough people had this problem to merit its existence but it was still very helpful: turns out the secret is to blindfold yourself first but keep it folded up with one eye able to see until you do the handcuffs, then use your arm to slide the blindfold down into place.

It was tricky, and a little bit extra awkward while naked, but you figured it out and smiled proudly to yourself as you completed your last task on your to-do list.

Now, for likely the most difficult task of all: waiting in darkness and silence for Bucky to arrive.

Apparently it is, in fact, possible to be slightly bored yet titillated.  The thought of what Bucky would do to you when he got here was exciting, but it only made you crave his presence more which enhanced your quiet loneliness.  It wasn't like you could read a book or listen to music to kill the time, so you settled for humming to yourself as you waited.

Don't go changing, to try and please me, something something before, hmmm

I just want someone that I can talk to, I want you just the way you are...

But that grew tiresome quickly and you resorted instead to planning exacty how angry you would be if Bucky was late when you were waiting for him in such a compromising and inconvenient state.  For a moment you imagined he'd really gone to the Rangers game with Steve and became briefly livid over a hypothetical situation.

The crackling roar of Bucky's motorcycle outside was distant but undeniable, making you smile in anticipation.  You worried for a moment that you might have locked the top lock of the front door by instinct, but thankfully Bucky and to make it inside alright since next thing you knew, your bedroom door was opening.

The rattle of the doorknob made your breath catch; you opened your legs slowly in time with the quiet creak of the hinges.  “I’ve been waiting for you…” you purred.

“Hi there, babydoll,” Bucky’s voice answered back huskily.

The heavy steps of his boots made it clear he hadn't taken his shoes off at the door, a habit that had driven you crazy since he was your annoying brother's also-annoying best friend.  Was this the real reason he'd chained you up, so he could freely irritate you?  What next, was he gonna put a cold drink on your nightstand without a coaster?

"You really went all out for me, sweetheart," he noticed, his voice closer than you'd expected; it was fun to not know exactly where he would be, it made you squirm under the gaze you couldn't see but could somehow feel.

How weight joining yours on the bed was a good sign to his location though, along with his hands sliding up your legs.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” he cooed pridefully as he dove in suddenly and licked a thick stripe through your folds.

“Fuck,” you shivered, tugging on your handcuffs unintentionally.

“Feel good, babygirl?” he pressed, chuckling when you nodded.  “You want more?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He didn’t get back to it right away, the weight on the bed shifting slightly, and it made you fear that he planned to make you beg more before eating you out— but finally his lips returned to you as his tongue explored your sex.

“Oh god,” you moaned, your back arching of its own volition.  It was a little different than he normally did this— less confident and measured, more cautious yet hungry.  Typically he teased you a lot more, knowing exactly the spots that drove you wild and intentionally leaving them understimulated until you begged him to let you come, but now as soon as he found them he was targeting them— perhaps a rare show of mercy from the guy who was normally happy to leave you on edge for hours.

You could feel his moans vibrating into you when he slid his tongue inside and against your channel; it instantly made your back arch as the handcuffs quietly clinked above your head.

He stopped just a little too soon, pulling your hips up until the back of your legs were resting on the front of his.  Being manhandled by him turned you on enough to make you bite your lip.

"Fuck, put your cock in me, wanna feel you," you moaned your plea as you heard the rustling of clothes; your mouth watered when you imagined Bucky stripping, with that insane body of his.

His thick head glided over your entrance and you were preparing to beg some more when he suddenly pushed in, giving you what you wanted so much faster than normal.  Not that you were complaining!

He was also much quieter than normal, which you were actually willing to complain about but didn't.

"Oh god," you groaned at the feeling of him stretching you open, gasping when his cock brushed right over your spot— it made your body jolt each time he pulled back and hit it again.

"Feels good, huh?" Bucky asked and you nodded happily.

"So good," you whimpered.

"I wasn't asking you."

Before you could question it, Bucky’s calloused fingers pulled up your blindfold— but it was Steve’s face above you, Steve’s body on top of yours… and, much to your horror, Steve’s cock inside you.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped, trying to squirm away as you tugged at the cuffs but failing completely.

“Fuck,” Steve winced, “you get really tight when you struggle like that.”

“Don’t act so surprised, babygirl,” Bucky cooed playfully as you turned to stare at his devilish grin.  “You wanted this… you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.  And Stevie here always wanted this, too, and aren’t you so glad he told me?”

You shuddered as Steve continued thrusting, pushing his cock so deep it made you feel a little nauseous.  "Steve, you've gotta stop," you begged.   "If you love me, you'll stop."

"That's the thing: I love you too much to stop."

He moved faster, paying no mind to your confused whimpers, holding your hips tight as his head fell back slightly which brandished his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple.

"There's no point in pretending," Bucky reminded you coldly, watching the whole thing with crossed arms and an expression that almost looked… bemused?  "You already showed us how much you love it, so don't waste your time acting so disgusted now."

You regretted more than anything saying that it felt good, literally asking him to fuck you before you really understood what you were asking for: you thought it was Bucky, yes, but that didn't mean it was an act.  It did feel good, and that must've been obvious to everyone since you were so wet already.  You could hear it each time he pushed all the way in, that telltale squelching noise that was somehow disgusting and hot all at once.

Steve wasn't so quiet now that he didn't have to be.  "God, you feel so good," he whispered, grabbing the backs of your knees and pushing your legs up.  It forced his cock even deeper and you choked on your own suppressed moan.

You heard Bucky opening his belt, and turned your head to see him pull out and stroke his cock while he watched Steve fuck you.  It was hard to imagine what he was getting out of this; he never seemed like the sharing type, if anything he sometimes became too possessive.  But clearly there was a lot about him and Steve that you didn't understand.

"Play with her tits," Bucky instructed, voice a bit deeper as he pleasured himself, "makes her come so fast."

Steve dropped your legs to rest on his shoulders so his hands were free to grope your chest, thick fingers twisting and tugging your nipples.  Annoyingly, Bucky knew his way around your body well by now, and so it was difficult to pretend that Steve's touches weren't sending shocks of pleasure right down your spine and to your core.

You had been biting on your lip so hard to stay quiet that you feared you would break the skin, until Bucky leaned down and gave you a little slap on the cheek— not very hard, but enough to make you gasp which in turn released the moan you'd been holding back.

"There it is, honey, don't be quiet for my benefit," Bucky encouraged.  "It's okay to like it, I'm not gonna be jealous."

As if that was your concern; angering your boyfriend by enjoying being fucked by your foster brother.  

"You really overestimate my interest in your— fuck— in your feelings," you panted as you glared up at Bucky where he was grinning down at you with a look that almost indicated pride.

"You're gonna come, aren't you?" he asked, ignoring your resistance entirely.  Whatever chance you had at pretending he was wrong was lost when, just for a moment, your eyes widened at his question.  "Yeah, thought so.  I can tell by that dumb look on your face.  I'm close too, babydoll, betcha wanna taste it…"

His free hand roughly held your jaw open as he stroked himself desperately, his weak groan coinciding with the moment you felt his hot seed spray into your open mouth, his taste familiar despite the entirely surreal circumstances.

It was purely coincidence that you came in that moment, your walls bearing down on Steve while you tried to stay silent so you wouldn't choke on Bucky's spend.

"Fuck, that's it, gonna fill this pretty mouth— god yes, you'd better swallow it all," he sighed as come painted your tongue and the inside of your cheek.  Maybe it was more than normal or maybe it was just that he was tightening his hand around the head of his cock to get every drop in your mouth, but either way it was enough to give you quite a mouthful to swallow, which you did without much question due to force of habit.

"M’close too," Steve warned as Bucky stepped back, "I'm gonna come."

“No, Steve, not inside,” you whimpered, hearing the way your voice had weakened after your orgasm, “you can’t…”

“I can,” he disagreed, “Bucky said so.”

Once again, Bucky's will was more important than your own, and your desperate pulling at the handcuffs was only another reminder of the way you'd guided yourself into his trap.

"Don't," you stammered one more time, but it was hard to focus when he was filling you exactly how you needed, when his thick hands gripping your waist felt just as perfect as you'd secretly imagined so many times… 

Denial is a powerful drug, but so is two orgasms in a row.

"Fuck!" you yelped as you felt a gush of warmth drip from your entrance, even further wetness spurring on Steve's fast and brutal thrusts into you.

"Knew you'd love it," Steve mumbled, growling slightly as he slammed into you.  "Knew you'd take it so well, make a pretty mess all over my cock— fuck I can't wait anymore, gotta fill you up, oh my god... gotta give you my load, honey, you want it?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "Steve, yes, come in me…"

He didn't need much more encouragement than that, groaning loudly as you felt his cock flex and pulse against your walls, his release overwhelmingly hot inside you.

You sighed in time with Steve as he finally stilled, and it was hard to know where to look when Steve and Bucky were both staring down at you.  “What happens now?” you found yourself asking, not so much a literal question about the next task but more about what the three of you were going to do with all the unfortunate truths that had come to light in less than half an hour.

“What happens now is I take my turn,” Bucky informed you sternly, pushing Steve aside.  “Did you really think I wasn’t gonna fuck my girlfriend on Valentine’s Day?”