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just-some-random-blogger · 4 days ago

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Tormented Spirit | 13

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i have realized i dont link the polls to the fics. here's what won last time!! bask in your decisions <3 once again, the high valyrian might be wrong so roll with it and leave comments/reblogs ok!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Caraxes was never fond of being holed up in the pit, and yet, as King's Landing became apparent on the horizon, the dragon found himself beating his wings faster than normal. When the stench of the pit the creature's nostrils, he knew then, he was home.

Perhaps it was still because he was in his armor, but for Daemon, it was not until Viserys looked upon him, first warily then happily, and embraced him that he felt the realness of it all.

As the entirety of court watched the brothers' affectionate exchange, most thought the display touching... then there were the Hightowers. The only reason Alicent was here in the throne room to greet him was because she was queen and it was expected of her. And Otto did not want to look upon the dastardly prince's face, but he had to see what state he was in for the sake of his eldest daughter.

"My brother has returned!" the king announces, enticing cheers from the onlookers. Lord Hand promptly leaves after this, intent on going to you.

Otto asks the first servant he sees where you are, and is immediately directed to the garden. He is unsurprised to see that not one, but two of your wards are there, evidently on high alert. The moment they spot him, they freeze to greet him in unison, "Lord Hand."

"Does she know?"

The twins share a quick glance, and again, in unison, "everyone knows."

Otto releases a sigh. You know of your husband's return and yet you chose to remain in the gardens. He was about to ask the twins step aside, but then he hears the sound of giggles. He peers past the two, finding you laughing with your nephew in your arms. He rubs his forehead and clenches his jaw, "what did she say?"

Erryk and Arryk stare at Otto's distressed face. The former speaks, " 'he did not wish that I see him off, I should not see to his return'. "

Otto sighs deeply and wipes his face, "Seven save us."

Arryk almost pities your father for how worried he looked... but almost is not enough; he'll never forget the tears you shed because of him. No one in your family seemed to grant you grace.

"As it is," Lord Hightower raises his hands, "the prince is in good spirits, and I am sure he will not so soon look for her as he would the cups of wine he wishes to share with the king. Do not impose upon the prince if he does come around," Otto raises a finger, "but do not let his entitlement get into his head."

The Cargll twins not in sync, "my lord."

With that, Otto walks off.

Once he is gone, Erryk turns to his brother, "I would sooner fall on my sword than have her husband ruin the happiness she's so delicately built for herself."

Arryk gives him a look, "do not forget yourself."

"I do not," he snaps, "but perhaps you do."

Arryk does not take kindly to his accusatory tone.

"I cannot forget even if I wanted," Erryk looks off, "it my shift when she miscarried," he grits his teeth, "mine, when she tried to fling herself off the eastern tower."

"And it was mine when she locked herself in her bath," Arryk quips, "and when she threw herself at Caraxes, only to have the beast take her under his wing. Do not feel self-righteous in your suffering, for it is not yours," he points, "it's hers."

Erryk clenches his jaw so hard it's a wonder his teeth do not break. He spare his brother a glance.

Arryk turns forward and sighs deeply before repeating, "do not forget yourself."

"Do not forget yourself," he counters.

All three of them are wrong, Arryk, Erryk, and Otto. Otto was wrong to think that Daemon would not look for you before anything else. The prince notices is your absence the very moment he notices your sister. He asks Viserys, "where is my wife?"

Viserys looks over to his Alicent, who clutches her belly and finally approaches, "ah... she's probably with her boy."

Daemon pulls his head back.

"My prince," Alicent smiles half-heartedly to her good-brother, "I trust your travels home were smooth."

He completely ignores her, "her boy?"

Viserys thinks nothing of Daemon's words as he takes wife's hand, "where is your sister, dearest."

Dearest? Daemon's expression curls.

Alicent turns to the king, rubbing her swollen belly, "last I saw her, she was in the gardens with Aegon."

Aegon? Daemon's eyes narrow.

"Oh!" Viserys smiles, turning to Daemon, "you should go to the gardens and fetch them then. Your wife has brought forth new life to the Keep. I encouraged her to write about it to you, but she did not think you would find care to learn it through letters."

Daemon's face falls. New life? You brought forth new life? Without a word, he sprints off to the gardens.

Viserys is momentarily taken aback by this. Alicent is agitated by it, especially because she catches on to the ambiguity of his words. She she squeezes his arm, "do you think this is a good idea?"

"What?" he pulls his head back, "that he see his wife and nephew?"

"He might not take kindly to Aegon. You called him her boy."

Viserys chuckles, "but he is. She loves him so dearly."

"I know, but you made it sound like my sister had a babe."

The king pulls his head back and chuckles. When he realizes Alicent's worry was apparent on her features, he thinks about what he said and shakes his head, "I was talking about the flowers she planted in the garden."

"I know," Alicent repeats, "but does Daemon?"

"Don't be silly, Alicent," Viserys squeezes her hand, "Daemon is not that slow-witted. Besides, does your sister not write to him everyday?"

She clenches her jaw, "yes."

"So," he shrugs, "why would he be so sorely mistaken?"

Except he was; Viserys is also wrong. And as Daemon makes his way toward the gardens, it becomes apparent why Arryk and Erryk too are wrong. Both of them immediately forget themselves upon seeing the approaching prince. They block his path instinctively.

Daemon stops in his tracks, "out of the way."

Erryk stares blankly at him. Arryk shifts on his leg, "allow me a moment to announce your presence to the princess."

"Why would I need to be announced? She is my wife."

"She is with Prince Aegon," Arryk raises a hand and steps forward, "it is in her best interest that I ensure you are welcome while he is present."

Daemon is flabbergasted. He clenches his fists, "why wouldn't I be welcome around my own flesh and blood?!"

"My lady has only recen-"

"Do you deny it!?" Daemon snaps.

They do not reply.

"Do you deny the boy is my flesh and blood?"

The twins know the prince is riled up. If they persist, a fight will surely break out. Though they cared little for the consequences of quarrelling with the newly returned prince, they did care greatly for your peace of mind. This was why Erryk replied, "no, ser."

"Then get out of my fucking way," he snaps.

Arryk and Erryk stare at him. Eventually, they reluctantly step aside.

Daemon, in all his rage and pettiness, makes sure to knock into them as he passes. It was good he was still in his own armor, or else the collision against their steel shoulder pads would have hurt.

"Right, shall we go back now?"

The sound of your voice makes him stop in his tracks. How was it that he was so angry to be denied going to you just now, yet he now can't seem to move from his spot.

"No, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

"Flower!"

Daemon's breath hitches at the sound of the boy's voice.

"You want the rose?" your voice is soft but audible, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

Mummy? Daemon slowly inches foward.

"Mummy?" the small voice repeats.

Daemon witnesses the moment the babe reaches for your curls. You brown hair is completely undone, spilling all the way down to your waist. A gentle breeze makes your tresses and skirt flow. His lips part at the beauty of you.

You chuckle when Aegon tries to eat your hair and pull it away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you. His hair is short and his eyes shine. You nearly choke on your breath, feeling your knees buckle as he slowly walks over. Your hold on Aegon tightens as he reaches out.

You step back. It takes him off-guard. It feels just like when an arrow was shot to his chest. Daemon moves towards the rose bush, picking out a flower, carefully removing its thorns.

"Flower!" Aegon coos and reaches out.

Daemon turns to him, handing the blushing bloom, "rūklon, ñuha tresy." Flower, my son.

You freeze. You freeze because you understand him.

Aegon gives a gummy smile; he shows all his teeth but he only has two at the bottom. He happily groans and grins at you when he has the flower in hand, "FLAWOW!"

You turn to the boy. His shining face instantly shatters the tension and unease you feel. You huff and brush his silver hair back. You freeze again when Daemon's hand comes upon yours.

You turn to him with wide eyes. His eyes are fixed on Aegon, "Rūklon, Aegon. Kostagon vestrā rūklon syt kepa?" Flower, Aegon. Can you say flower for father?

Daemon takes Aegon's chin, making him look to him, "rūklon, Aegon. Rūk-lon."

Your initially shocked expression melts into molten anger.

Aegon looks at his uncle, "rūklon."

Daemon is surprised but immediately pleased. He lets out a rich laugh as he turns to you, "he is good."

"Daor kirimvose naejot ao." you snap, pulling Aegon away from him. No thanks to you.

He pulls his chin back. He watches in shock as you turn to move the prince away. You glare as you do so, eyes beady and pink. His forehead wrinkles.

"Eman gūrēntan Valyrio Eglie sīr bona kostan bodmagho zirȳla. Emā daorun naejot jiōragon zirȳla." I have learned High Valyrian so that I can teach him. You have nothing to offer him.

Your frosty words make him pull his head back again. "daorun?" Nothing.

"Kessa," you nod, "daorun" Yes. Nothing.

His eye twitches as he shakes his head in disbelief, "iksan se valītsos kepa." I am the boy's father.

The severity of your laugher is haunting. His eyes widen and his skin pricks with goosebumps. You throw you head back, feeling a tear run down your face. You sigh and shake your head as you turn back to him, "you are completely devoid of both heart and mind, aren't you?"

Daemon too stunned to do anything but stare.

You turn. Daemon finally sees Aegon playing with the flower. You catch his attention by brushing his hair back, "my love," you start, "qilōni iksis aōha kepa?" who is your father?

Aegon looks up at you with little interest.

"Kepa, Aegon, kepa."

"Kepa?" he repeats.

"Kessa, skoros gaomas kepa gaomagon?" Yes, what does father do?

Aegon raises his rose, "dārys!"

King? Daemon's face falls.

You smile and bounce the child in your arms, "rōvēgrior!"

He tenses at the sound of the word. Rōvēgrior. Excellent. There was a time where you could not say that word at all. He taught that to you. And yet as you turn to him, your face destitute of any happiness that you had offered Aegon, it felt at though it was a memory he just conjured up.

"You are no more related to the boy than I am," you quip, "she is my sister's first born."

"Viserys said you brought for new life in the Keep," he mutters, as if he was afraid he heard wrong.

Your jaw feathers, but as the wind blows, you catch sight of the flowers, "he meant the roses," you turn to the said blooms. You laugh, bitterness pulling out a mocking smile from you, "how could you expect a son from me?"

Daemon shifts in his spot, ready to argue, but he quickly finds he had nothing to say to that. He thinks of all the seed he's spilled on your skin. He thinks of his persistence in leaving your womb empty. He thinks of the discipline he employed to ensure he would never finish in you. He clenches his jaw.

You turn to him; tears begin to fall from your eyes. Aegon notices and reaches for your cheeks; his flower falls to the floor, forgotten.

You and Daemon stare at each other. You feel your breath begin to shorten the longer you do.

Your expression falls when you hear Aegon begin to fuss. You immediately steel yourself away as you turn to your nephew; the boy looks like his on the brink of tears. You sniffle and shush him, "no, no, no-"

It's too late. He begins to cry.

You push past Daemon with little regard. Your wards turn to you upon hearing Aegon's cries. You say nothing to them, your full attention on Aegon as you rock him in your arms, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red..."

Arryk and Erryk follow after you.

Daemon is left alone in the middle of the garden.

He has no word to describe what he felt in that moment. He was stunned, hurt, saddened, torn. He was angry. How could you do this to him? You had begged him not to go, and now that he's returned, you treat him like... like you hated him.

He laughs dryly under his breath. Was this a game? Was this your way of getting back at him? He laughs louder as he walks off. He could hate you back better.

Daemon joins the luncheon the king throws in honor of his return. He does not waste his time and makes a show of himself.

It is easy for him to fall back into his old ways once he is in his princely garbs. He openly and unabashedly flirts with all the ladies he can set his eyes upon and eagerly annoys and offers backhanded compliments to all the lords present.

It gets so bad that Viserys has to intervene. Even Alicent and Rhaenyra, who had not spoken to each other since the king's wedding, find each other's company just to momentarily agree that Daemon is being completely callous and tactless.

The king pulls him by the shoulder and Daemon manages to snag a cup of wine as he is pried away from the offensive conversation he instigated.

"I understand that you are overjoyed to be home," Viserys leads him off, "but please, control yourself."

Daemon pouts, facetious, "kessa, kepa." Yes, father.

He bristles, "iksan issare dokimare. Emagon mirri iotāptenon syt aōha ābrazȳrys." I'm being serious. Have some respect for your wife.

Daemon immediately shoves Visersys's hand off him at the mention of you. He snaps, "gaomagon daor ȳdragon naejot nyke hen bona aspo!" Do not speak to me of that bitch!

The queen and princess, along with the rest of the people present, turn to the brothers upon hearing raised voices.

"Uncle!" Rhaenyra calls him out, offended by the conversation only she and they could understand.

Daemon turns to her, chucking his drink to the side before storming off.

Viserys rolls his eyes and sigh, "Daemon."

Alicent walks over to her husband.

"Daemon!" the king snaps.

"Leave it to me, father," Rhaenyra says, following after her uncle.

Daemon is back at the gardens. He snaps over his shoulder, "fuck off!"

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, "what has gotten you so sour?"

"HER!" Daemon whips back around, eyes red and glassy, "THAT HIGHTOWER BITCH!"

Rhaenyra recoils and pulls her head back in shock. She carefully mutters, "you can't possibly mean Alicent, can you?"

"Her and the whole lot!" Daemon throws a hand out, "they can all drop dead for all I care."

The princess watches him pace around. Her brows knit, "I would say I am comforted that you share in my offence over my father and Alicent's union, but I cannot say I do. I know you have long hated Otto, and Gwayne, as he's bested you in tourneys—"

Daemon steps forward, "have you followed me to further spur-"

"But what has -"

"Don't you fucking speak her name to me!"

Rhaenyra is taken aback by this. The two stare at each other, and as Daemon heaves. Her face hardens, "what could you possibly be angry about?"

"She did not even greet me!" Daemon points to nowhere.

Rhaenyra laughs. It goes dry when she realizes he was being serious. Her face contorts, "Daemon."

He looks away.

Her lips curl, "she just got better"

His brows furrow.

"You do know that?" she tilts her head, "right?"

Have you been sick?

"Seven hells," Rhaenyra's face falls, "you don't know."

"..."

"She writes to you everyday," she motions vaguely, "I have not been in King's Landing for many moons, but even I know this."

"War makes time for-"

"Then why are you angry?!"

"..."

Rhaenyra raises her brows at him. Daemon remains unable to respond. She rolls her eyes, "welcome home, uncle."

Daemon is left alone in the garden for a second time. He goes back to his personal quarters.

You see him from across the hall just before he enters but he does not see you. Before you can take another step, Arryk and Erryk each take hold of your arms.

"Release me."

"Why should you be the one to go to him?" Arryk asks.

You turn to him, "you know why."

"If he does not want to go to you, do not waste your grace on him," Arryk says, just as you pull away to turn to them.

"He does nothing to understand you," Erryk adds, "and he will misunderstand you so long as it suits himself."

Your eyes immediately water, "why are you turning against me?"

"We are-"

"You think I want to live like this?"

Erryk speaks your name, "he is not ready to face you."

"It's been three years!" you chuckle dryly.

"Let him come to you," Arryk adds.

You scratch your eyes and shake your head, "the bodies of my babes remain unburied, wrapped and sealed in a crypt, because I insist that they be given but one respect due to them in the tradition of their house, and you would deny me-" your voice breaks. Tears run down your cheeks as you try to compose yourself. You clear your throat, "you would deny my son and daughter this?"

The twins do not speak.

You wipe your face roughly with your hands, "well? What say you?!"

Arryk lowers his head. Erryk cannot look at you, but he cannot keep his peace either, which is why he says, "I say they would not want their mother to suffer at the hand of their father."

"Damn you, Erryk!" you shove him back.

Erryk looks at you in shock.

"You dare presume to know my children when I-" gasp, "did not-" gasp, "even-" gasp.

Your guards reach out for you when you begin to topple. They keep you upright and you find yourself too stubborn to faint. You wrangle out of their grasp and lean on your knees as you struggle to catch your breath.

When you straighten up, you look and see Erryk's teary eyes. You feel terrible. It nearly makes you lose your breath again. You groan and sink your face into your hands, "I can never win, can I?"

"Princess," Erryk mutters, "forgive me, I-"

"Enough," you raise a hand to him, "I will not have my children be the cause of conflict."

Erryk nods and keeps his head bowed. Arryk turns to him before doing the same.

You sigh, belly churning with sadness and guilt, "come," you take their hands, "my twins waited this long for their father. They can wait a little longer."

Daemon, through in his adamant refusal to read your letters, kept every single one of them, even the ones he trampled on in his anger. Three sacks of letters, there were three sacks that contained all of the letters you sent him, one for every year he was gone. He empties them out on his bed. He walks to his trunk of clothing and grabs the only one he ever read and rereads it.

He walks back to his bed and sits a the floor. He flattens out the parchment beside him, then haphazardly reaches for another one.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔬 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔶. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔰𝔬. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔠𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢.

Daemon flattens the parchment, stacks it on the previous one, and grabs another letter.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰, 𝔶𝔢𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔏𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔙𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔬. ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℌ𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔶 𝔬𝔣𝔱, 𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔡𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔰. 𝔇𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔪; ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔖𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶, 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

He knits his brows, flattens the parchment, stacks it on the previous one, and grabs another letter.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔏𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔲𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℌ𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔩𝔶 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔢𝔫𝔳𝔶 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. 𝔓𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔶.

His face falls at your sentiment. You think this? He wonders for a moment what he and Laenor argued over, but he cannot recall anything for the life of him. The next letter he opens makes him sit up straight.

ℑ'𝔪 𝔡𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔓𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢.

This letter drives him mad, because it is the only one like it. He rips open more than a dozen letters, yet all of them are like all the rest. He reads some more about Laenor, some of Gwayne and Alicent, some of Otto, some of Arryk and Erryk, some of Viserys, but most of them are about the mundane things you busy yourself with. Mundane things you do to distract yourself from him.

He does not know what to make of it.

Then, he unfolds a piece of paper with hastily written script.

𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫, 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱ℯ𝓇 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓇ℯ 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹, 𝓁ℯ𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒷ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. ℐ 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓃 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷ℯ𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈ℯ ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒻𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉ℴ, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶ℯ𝓂ℴ𝓃, ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹. ℐ 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝒶𝓇ℯ𝓁𝓎 𝓈ℯℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓅ℯ𝓇 𝒶𝓈 ℐ 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝒻ℯ𝒶𝓇 ℐ 𝓂𝒾ℊ𝒽𝓉 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃ℊℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽𝓂ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝒶ℊ𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒞ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒽ℴ𝓂ℯ. ℐ 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁ℴ𝓇ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊, ℐ 𝒷ℯ𝓈ℯℯ𝒸𝒽 𝓎ℴ𝓊— 𝒸ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒽ℴ𝓂ℯ.

"I was with child?" Daemon repeats to himself.

He frantically grabs a bunch of letters and skims through them, desperate to learn more of this. He goes through 5, 10, 20, 50, 100 letters, but none of them ever mention such a thing ever again.

At some point, the letters become singular.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔞𝔱. ℑ 𝔭𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔯 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔞 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔰𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔰𝔢. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔪𝔟 𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

They all speak of your apparently imminent demise.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔦𝔱. 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

It goes on for far too long.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔫𝔲𝔪𝔟. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 ��𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔱𝔥 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢. 𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔟𝔶 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢. ℑ𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

Daemon's stomach rolls. He cannot bare to read any more, and yet his guilt urges him to drink up this pain, as if it would make it go away, as if it could make up for what he had done.

The moon begins to fade as the sun begins to rise. He reads hundreds of letters that speak nothing but your pain and desire for death. His face is wet with tears and bitterness linger in his mouth. He no longer is on the floor. He lies on his bed, surround by his wife's misery.

He wails. He can do nothing else as he takes in your words.

Then, for the final time, the tone changes.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪, 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪. ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔰𝔢. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

... mine own son or daughter. Daemon wipes his face.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔡𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔶 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔴𝔫. ℑ𝔣 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡, ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔧𝔬𝔶. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

He knits his brows and sits up. All the remaining letters are about Aegon.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔰 𝔞 𝔶𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔪, 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔙𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰; ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔞𝔯 𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 ℜ𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔶𝔯𝔞. ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔣𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔣 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯; 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩, 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔡𝔞𝔶 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

You speak of nothing else save him. You do not mention your affliction, you do not mention your everyday life, you speak only of your affections for Aegon.

The sun rises.

Daemon did not realize he fell asleep until a voice of a servant wakes him. It did not feel like he slept at all; he is still exhausted.

He groans as he sits up. He sees a servant girl staring at the thousand pages scattered across the room. He comes to a stand and begins pick up the papers, "do not mind this. Prepare me a bath. I will break fast with my wife."

The servant watches the prince clean up after himself. She curtsies and does what is instructed.

Daemon had stacked the letters by date as he read them and now tiptoed around the room, gathering the papers in chronological order. He grabs his trunk and files the papers there. By the time he is finished, his trunk is stuffed and his bath water is barely warm.

Neither did the bath wake him fully, nor did it refresh him. What's worse was the scent of his soap broke forth dam of memories for it smelled like you. Resentment for his own folly began to choke him with tears.

His face scarcely resembled him. His angular features were softened with woe, namely his eyes. He cared little for the puffiness rendered him by his tears as he made his way over to your room.

Arryk and Erryk instantly spot him, both of them raising their brows and curling their lips at the look of the prince.

"Is my wife awake?" Daemon asks once he is before them, voice telling of how he had clearly been crying.

Neither of them find sympathy, only disgust and irritation. Erryk particularly despises how readily he refers to you as his wife; he was just a stranger, an evil-doer you had tragically married, "do you see that she's awake?"

Arryk's jaw tenses at his brother's response. He slowly turns to him with knit brows.

Daemon is numb to their hostility, too wrapped up in his self-loathing, "it is nearly noon. Doesn't she wake earlier than this?"

"Yes," Erryk instantly responds, "she did three years ago."

The prince stills. He now recognizes the twins' acrimony. He takes in a breath; he has no desire to start a fight, not when he's freshly just read about your affections for them and how they cared for you in his absence. Daemon wipes his face then raises a hand, "alright. Let me pass. I will wait for her to rouse."

The twins' shoulders hit each other as they block the prince's passage. Arryk tilts his head, "rest does not come easy to her. It would be best if she is not disturbed."

"I will not disturb her," Daemon quips, "I said I would wait for her to rouse."

Erryk raises a brow and motions, "of course, my prince. Feel free to wait for her out here with us."

Daemon stiffens. He grinds his teeth as he debates the truth of the sentiment. He stares at them.

They stare back.

He shakes his head and storms off.

Erryk scoffs in disgust, clutching his scabbard. Arryk scowls at the prince then his brother, "you dunce. This is what we want, for him to go to her."

"Yes," Erryk eyes Daemon hotly, willing his body be burned by his glare, "yet watch how easily he retreats. He wants only to go to her for his own sake, not because he wants to see her."

"Erryk," Arryk places a hand on his arm, "you overstep."

Erryk turns to his brother, "I step my foot exactly where it should be." He looks forward, "if he really wants to see her, he would come back."

And he was right. Daemon really wanted to see you. Why then would he waste his time and patience in quarrelling with your wards when he could simply take the hidden entrance to your chambers? He knew the passages well, after all; this was his home.

Daemon's senses are flooded as he emerges from the darkness.

Your fragrance is nearly tangible to him. He walks towards your vanity and takes a vial of your body oil. He inhales deeply, feeling warmth cascade through his body. He smears a bit on his philtrum. He missed this.

He sets the vial down and brushes his fingers over your jewelry. He takes the robe hung on your vanity chair and smells it. His eyes begin to water. He hangs it back in its place and finally, finally, he turns to you, throat uncomfortably tight.

Your brown hair is fanned out behind you. Your skins glows with invitation to be caressed.

He kneels beside you the way you did before your beloved statue of the Mother. He scratches his eyes when his tears begin to fog his vision. He strokes the back of his hand down your cheek. He fixes the blanket around you.

He watches you intently. He so badly wants to bury his face into the crook of your neck, to feel you, to smell you, to kiss you, but even he knew it was selfish; even he could admit he was undeserving.

The memory of the very first time he had ever beheld your sleeping form plays in his mind as you act it out in real life. Your lips and forehead curl; you stir slightly in your spot. He sighs when the corner of your closed eyes begin to water.

Daemon wipes your tears away, speaking the same words he spoke you then, "amīvindigon sesīr isse ēdrugon." Tormented even in sleep. He strokes your cheek and hair, "mundagon riña." Miserable girl.

He cannot help himself any longer. He shifts on his knees and moves in to press a kiss upon your temple. He leans his forehead on you, closing his eyes to savor your presence.

All is still.

All is solemn.

That is, until you begin to fuss.

You mutter incoherences and begin to moan.

He squeezes your shoulder and kisses you again, "gīda ilagon, ñuha jorrāelagon." Calm down, my love.

You moan out in response.

He pulls his head back with and opens his eyes. You moan again and it becomes clear that you were moaning a name.

"Alyrie."

A line forms between his brows.

"Alaeric."

He feels his chest tighten. What?

You moan as your arms reach out, "stay."

Daemon pulls back, eyes burning with tears. You repeat those names and a pit forms in his stomach, deep and dark. You whine as you embrace your pillow. He watches you press your lips into your pillow. He hears you mutter, "love you."

His throat constricts and he clenches his jaw. He does not like this dream.

You speak those names again and he pulls back, deciding he's had enough. He repeats it, mutters under his breath what he thinks he heard you say, "Arryk and Erryk." After all, how would he know the names Alyrie and Alaeric when you couldn't bare to even think of them, let alone mention them?

And just as he did moments ago, he wastes no time.

Daemon storms away, grabbing a pitcher of water on his way. He is upon them the moment he throws the doors open.

Before either brother can react, one has a pitcher bashed to the back of his head, and the other is kicked from behind. Shrieks pierce the air; your incoming servants witness the brutal onslaught.

All that was not enough to wake you, nothing would.

You startle awake, terrified out of your mind. Not only did you wake from a melancholic slumber, you wake to the sound of screams and battery.

Daemon would have managed to knock out the brothers had they not worn helmets. Still, the blow to the back of Arryk's head left him in a daze and Erryk, who was kicked from behind and shot off to the parallel wall, was no better.

The prince focuses on the closer twin who managed to face him. He kicks Arryk on the chest, knocking him down. He quickly climbs upon his felled body and removes his helmet before splitting his knuckles on his face. He manages to land two punches before he is throttled to the ground by the other Cargyll.

Erryk did not mean to merely subdue him, he was eager to retaliate. He crushes his knee into the prince's back, squeezing the air out of him before flipping him over, intent on breaking his nose at the very least.

Erryk underestimated the raging sense of betrayal that fuels his opponent.

Daemon manages to grab Erryk's neck and squeezes it with all his might. The latter begins to choke but he thrusts his shin-guard into the prince's side, giving him little choice but to scream and loosen his hold due to the the pain.

Erryk finds the upper hand in no time. He pries Daemon's hands off him and launches a right hook. The prince shields his head, still, the knight manages to land some nasty punches.

"ERRYK!" Arryk shouts, prying his brother off. He drags his brother away, and in that moment, you emerge from your room, running barefoot in nothing but your shift.

You notice the twins first, for they were closer to your door. You release a horrified sound at the sight of them. They look at you with hard faces as you walk over, "what is the meaning of this?!"

Erryk shrugs his brother off and points an accusing finger, "the prince attacked us from behind!"

You turn to where he points.

Blood trickles down Daemon's face as he struggles to get on his knees. His lips are busted, nose ruptured, eye swollen. Your face falls at the sight of him. He looks horrendous, even worse than what Gwayne looked like when he fell from his horse during the tourney. A dozen horrible memories begin to flood you. You clutch your chest as you feel it tighten.

Erryk continues, "we would not let him disturb your sleep, but he managed to sneak into your bedroom-"

"What?" you turn to him.

"- then he attacked Arryk with a pitcher," Erryk points to the pitcher on the floor that laid beside a puddle of water, "then he kicked me on the back."

You turn to Arryk, finding his hair, neck, and armor wet. You whimper and wipe your face. You snap at Daemon, "what is wrong with you?!"

You watch your husband come to his feet.

He clutches his side and grunts out your name.

Goosebumps shroud you.

Daemon shudders as he walks over, "gaomagon ao jorrāelagon nyke?" Do you love me?

You instinctively step back where the Cargylls step forward. Your face curls in mortification. Your lips wobble and you shake your head in disbelief. You repeat, "what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Gaomagon..." Daemon lowers his head, "ao ēdrurys yno?" Do you dream of me?

You knit your brows tightly. You grit your teeth and clench you fists. You take a step towards him.

He lifts his gaze when you do.

A shiver runs down your spine as he speaks your name.

"Īlē mirre hen ēdrurys nyke mi—" You were alll of the dreams I ev-

You slap him before he can finish his words.

The blood from Daemon's nose sputters to the wall. The action hurts more than the act. He does not look back at you.

You are trembling, neither from your affliction or fear, but out of pure, blinding wrath. You do not tear your gaze from Daemon though you do not speak to him, "the both of you go to the maester's ward."

Arryk and Erryk nod and regard you, "princess."

"Drag him with you," you blurt, turning to your open door, "I will be there shortly after dressing."

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon #daemon targeryan #house of the dragon

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snickerdoodlles · 1 year ago

Text

can we really? because that's not been my experience in this fandom.

western fandom has a consistent problem in overriding other cultures with their own. emphasis on western holidays/traditions, western folklore/stories, western customs, the specific way western cultures engage with queer topics/politics. this happens constantly for all eastern media, but to me it's always seemed particularly egregious for Thai media and esp Thai bl (tbf, this is potentially because it's one of my bigger online spaces while also not being a big space so it's just what I'm seeing more of, but it is so bad). people often push back with either "it's just a joke" or "you can't expect everyone to just know everything about [other culture] just for fanfic/fandom," except that only applies when people have made the effort to learn about that culture. it's not an excuse to ignore it completely.

and what's so mind-boggling to me about moonlight chicken in particular is the constant sectioning of Jim, Wen, and Li Ming into "different generations of queer." They aren't! Jim was running a restaurant while happily in an open queer relationship with his boyfriend, yet the fucking number of times I've had to see "lol internalized homophobia" (do you guys know what internalized homophobia means) or "he's from a different generation of queer where theyre resigned to being queer" (fucking WHAT?!) posts is overwhelming huge to the number of times I've seen posts that acknowledge or engage with moonlight chickens extremely pointed narrative that social acceptance is not enough when the law does not protect queer people's rights and what happened to Jim can still happen to Wen, still happen to Li Ming. (I have seen. 2 posts that engage with it. one of which was mine. I blocked the tag for a good 8 months because it was so overwhelmingly "lol internalized homophobia" posts.)

I genuinely don't mean this comment directly to you. I don't mean this as a "no fun allowed" comment either, but Thai bl fandom, moonlight chicken fandom esp, is so. bad. about ignoring the heavily Thai cultural elements of its narrative that none of the jokes are funny in the larger fandom context.

its so weird seeing posts that mock uncle jim for worrying about li ming's queerness as though his dead boyfriend's parents (legally) stealing his entire life savings and leaving him to manage a restaurant business specifically because gay couples aren't legally recognized as couples wasn't what put him in a cycle of crushing debt and endless poverty in the first place

#moonlight chicken #again don't mean this at this tagger specifically #they just managed to hit a hot button of mine #theres a heavily prevalent attitude that its okay to skip learning about another culture because 'its just fandom'/'im doing this for free'#you know whats also free people!#MAKING A FUCKING EFFORT #i just.#moonlight chicken puts so much care and thought and very personal emotion into the struggles of being queer and of being impoverished #and particularly in how those issues compound #jim and his sister only had each other and ran away looking for better opportunities #jim's only family relationship was strained by his queerness #jim chose his queer happiness and lived a fulfilling life openly with his boyfriend including acting married (shared business shared home)#even tho he and his boyfriend could not actually get married or any sort of civil engagement/binding that would be legally binding #and because this binding was not legal. when his boyfriend was not only revealed to have an ENTIRELY SEPARATE SECRET LIFE and then DIED #before jim could have any proper confrontation with him (and thereby also have a chance to sort out/separate his personal affairs)#which then enabled his boyfriends parents to take *everything* from him #they ~deigned~ to leave him a business even tho they removed all of his previous gains which are *super fucking needed* in that business #and like. this isn't actually a thai thing. this is a very very VERY common queer narrative. its a large part of why queer marriage was #the centralized issue/banner for queer rights. recognizing queer unions as *legal* unions is a Big Fucking Deal #western nations have not recognized queer marriage rights until pretty recently. US's national legalization of it is less than 10 years old #this is still pretty new and it only happened because of all the '''''old'''''' queers online spaces pretend dont exist. the loud and proud #ones who fought bloodily for these rights. and. a LOT of queer thai directors have been discussing how social acceptance is not enough #because thailand has a queer friendly face via media but absolutely none of the legislature protecting queer rights #the way western fandoms interact with thai bl ignores their own queer history and thailands current queer culture in favor of their own #personal distorted reality where only under 20s (MAYBE 25s if theyre feeling generous) have fought for and openly accepted queerness.#its dismissive and infuriating and so many other things. the *relentless* jokes and discussions of jim being a ~queer elder~ (he's not)#and at the very least careless and thoughtless flattening of his internalized homophobia (and. he doesnt really have that. but i digress)#its just not funny. at what point are the jokes jokes and at what point do the jokes become harmful ignorance #this is a problem in a lot of thai bl and asian bl media overall.#but this fandom in particular is *so* bad about it

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balkanradfem · 5 months ago

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So I've found Alyssa Grenfell on youtube. She shares her experience of leaving mormonism, and the inner workings of the religion. I had very little ideas about what mormonism is, only that it's a high-control religion, very difficult to leave, and has people knocking on doors trying to get converts. I've been interested to find out more, and I ended up watching almost all of her content, and some of the information I've got from it opened my eyes on other feminist topics, and I believe is relevant to the current discourse!

So if you, like me, don't know how mormonism works, it started when a guy decided that he too could be a part of the bible; he wrote a bible part two: mormon, and proclaimed himself a prophet. Then he started a religion based on his writings, decided it was more important than the bible itself because he 'translated it from gold tablets god gave him', and started gaining followers by convincing people he's the prophet. Once he had managed to get a following, he soon started to sexually exploit the wives and daughters of these followers, to the point where he had 20-40 wives and had married 14yo children. Families allowed it to happen because he would promise them to be royalty in the afterlife. He eventually got into a lot of trouble for stealing and raping children so he was killed by an angry mob, but the religion continued.

The religion is same as christianity except more rules (no coffee, no alcohol, no smoking), eternal worship of the predator who wrote it, followers are pressured to follow the rules exactly, and, the vital part, the followers have to give 10% of their income to the church. They developed a culture where once every young mormon kid comes of age, they have to go on a 'mission', which means they're removed from their home, and have to spend 2 years (1,5 for women) living in a foreign area, knocking on doors, sharing the gospel, trying to convert people. The conversion rate is extremely low, but at that point kids have invested so much time, effort, energy and passion for the religion, they become devoted to it and start to feel alienated in the world that rejects their religion. And even with the low conversion rate, every new convert means another continuous source of income for the church. So it's very profitable to send out young adults to make these sales. The kids are told that if they don't complete their missions, they will not be able to marry, and marriage is presented as their only life purpose.

So how rich is the church at this point? 230 billion dollars. I've been shocked to hear this because I had no idea. Alyssa explained that the mormon church is as rich as Pepsi, they have more money than Disney and McDonalds. So you might be wondering, like I did, well what are they doing with all that money? I've been left to wonder this for a while, until I watched the video called 'Why are so many influencers mormon?', which explained it. I didn't even realize a lot of influencers were mormon. But, this video showed me something both disturbing, and eye opening.

Before I go into that, I have to point out how patriarchal and misogynistic this religion is. Women are not given any options except marriage, and it's presented as the only righteous way to live. They're groomed for marriage from a very young age, encouraged to start writing letters to their future husbands at the age of 9. They're taught cooking, sewing and childcare, and to coddle any males in the family. It's taken for granted that m*n won't respect women, to the point where male children are allowed to harass grown women and their families will not intervene or consider it a problem. Chastity and purity are promoted to the level where members of the religion are expected to wear special underwear at all times, which hides their entire torso, shoulders, and legs down to their knees, and their clothing is expected to cover this up completely. They're rejected by the religion if they dare to have sex before marriage, or drink alcohol or coffee, or in some cases, tea. The church has a history of allowing and promoting polygamy, in the sense that a male was allowed to have as many wives as he wanted; they've since stopped this, but refused to break up the existing marriages. They're also promoting anti gay and racist propaganda, which Alyssa observed in school where she'd been teaching; a gay kid almost ended his life due to extreme homophobia.

I know all of this is somewhat common in all areas of society, all religions, and all cultures, but in mormonism it seems to be written into the core of it.

So now, why are so many influencers mormon? I didn't even know they were. The influencers themselves are not promoting the fact that they're mormon, nor does it come up in viral discussions. Ballerina farm is mormon. Tradwives are mormon. Whataboutaub, Rachel Parcel, brooklynandbailey, tanner_mann, thebucketlistfamily, Taylor Frankie Paul, Sarah Beeston, Ruby Franke, these are all mormon. Most of the Utah-based influencers are mormon, and there's a bigger amount of successful and popular influencers from Utah, than from LA or NY.

For me it immediately explained why this viral content is like that. Why we're having such influx of highly patriarchal, anti-feminist, very dangerous and sexist content, put in front of the eyes of young women. Why it's being promoted as an ideal way of life. How are these women able to share this life as if they truly believed it was good and ideal. How could they think it's harmless? If they're using the internet to the extent that they're creating content, how would they not be exposed to any feminism at all? And they wouldn't because it's against their religion to engage with content like that, or with people talking about it. Because being raised in a high-control religion, they would truly believe their lives are the ideal. They would be presented with it as their only option, the only way of life possible for a woman.

It's heartbreaking because I can now understand why it was so easy to push Ballerina Farm to give up her entire life ambition to get married and carry children for a male she didn't even want to go out with, the pressure from the religion to do so would be immense, she would have been raised to see this as the only option, everything else in her life would be considered pointless. She wouldn't have an actual choice, she'd be groomed for this from the moment she was born. Mormons don't advertise 'looking for your soulmate', they only instruct women to marry a mormon male who completed his mission and make it work.

So how does the immensely rich mormon church play into this? I couldn't see it until Alyssa explained in a very detailed way how youtube content advertising works. I didn't know about this either, but here's the overview:

How much you get paid on youtube, instagram, tik-tok, or other online content platform, depends on what type of content it is, based on how much advertisers are willing to pay to put adverts on it. For instance, you get paid much more for finance content, because banks will pay premium prices to be advertised in a finance-related video. If you're making content on cooking, you get paid way less, because it's not such a lucrative field. If you're making content on christianity, you get similarly low price as for cooking, christian church is not that rich. But, if you're making content as a mormon, that's showcasing some aspect of a mormon life, even if you don't specifically say you're mormon, the price goes way up, to the point where it's as lucrative as finance. The mormon church is making sure that the mormon influencers are being paid premium prices for their content, because people who get massively interested in the influencers, eventually find out that it's the mormon life being advertised, and some of them consider taking on mormonism. Which gives church more converts, which means the church will earn more money. The content we're watching is one huge advert sponspored by mormon church, and we don't even know it.

Alyssa figured this out because her content falls under the keyword 'mormon', and her comments warned her that the church is advertising on her videos, even when she's making mormon-critical content. She then realized that she too was being paid a premium price for her views, just because they're mormon themed. She went on to discover that even just being an influencer in Utah will fetch a premium price, because most of mormons are based in Utah. For more detailed and comprehensive explanation on this, watch her video!

Advertising is not the only way the mormon church is spending their money, they've also built a shopping mall, and are basically spending their money by investing and gambling and everything any corporation does with their profits. It's making me mad, and also makes the members of the church mad when they discover where 10% of their income goes, because they're told it's being used for charity and community service, and not advertisments and building malls.

For me this solves a mystery of how is it possible, in this day and age to have such influx of tradwives and influencers of 'traditional life', they're being sponsored by an organization making a profit off of it, making sure that anyone making this content is so well paid, they're able to live off of it, and keep creating more of it, and in the process of doing that, groom young women into their lifestyle.

Learning more about religions, specifically high-control religions, makes me realize just how much of it is happening all around us, but invisible, not naming what it is. It's similar to MLM's, the people inside are constantly trying to lure more people in, to make profit for those on the top, while the organization keeps changing names and hides their business structure in order to save their reputation. People can get influenced by it, and sucked in, without even knowing about it. Somehow most MLM's are also in Utah.

Mormon church also asked to no longer be called that, in order to stop being associated with the words like 'cult', which people have identified it as. Now they're working under more secretive names, and hidden business practices, so we wouldn't even know what we're being influenced by, and why is the content in front of us what it is.

#mormonism #religion critical #patriarchal religion #cults #tradwives #feminism #radical feminism #mormon church #insane how i had no idea all this was going on

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dramioneasks · 4 days ago

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Top 10 Most “Kudos-ed” (Completed) Fics on AO3 of 2024:

BLOODY, SLUTTY, AND PATHETIC by WhatMurdah - E, 21 chapters, Words: 195,969 - “In my humble opinion there’s only three things that men should be and that is bloody, slutty, and pathetic.” And, on a good day, Draco Malfoy can be all three. When war heroine Hermione Granger and Azkaban-tattooed war criminal Draco Malfoy are forced to wed as part of Shacklebolt’s controversial Reconciliation Act, they openly fight the match and each other—their public brawls breathlessly reported by the press. Secretly, a deeply traumatized Draco delights in Hermione’s attention and pines for a real marriage with her—even as her forced proximity to the Black family magic irritates the cursed scar Bellatrix left on her arm, reminding her why she can never truly trust or forgive him. Then Hermione discovers that Draco’s blood will soothe the scar . . . and Draco is willing to trade his blood for her body. (With post-war blood purity politics, black market potioneers, Pansy Parkinson’s career advice, the Malfoys blackmailing Hermione’s Wizengamot opposition, BDE Neville Longbottom hunting Death Eaters, a slutty Theo Nott serving as Draco’s right-hand man, and Crookshanks loose in Malfoy Manor.)

The Gallows by gillianeliza - E, 23 chapters, Words: 47,332 - Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts the Ministry of Magic has one more wizard to bring to trial: Draco Malfoy. However, it's not a trial they're after, it's a spectacle to celebrate the end of the Death Eater regime with the execution of their final prisoner. When Hermione realizes their plan, she halts the trial and invokes The Gallows Law — an ancient law that pardons any pureblood male without an heir if a witch will marry him. What Hermione isn't ready for is the reality of bonding a broken, shell of a wizard and her new life as she moves into Malfoy Manor as the new Lady Malfoy.

Meet Me In Dreamland by sinflower81 - E, 39 chapters, Words: 229,631 - If there’s one thing Hermione Granger is good at, it’s using magic to fix her problems. And this time, her problem is sex. Luckily, she has the perfect solution: a locket enchanted with the Patented Daydream Charm. Whenever she opens it, she’ll find herself in Dreamland, where she can live out all her filthiest fantasies risk-free. The magic is a bit tricky, though. For some reason, Malfoy keeps showing up there with her. Thank goodness it’s only an illusion—if that was really him, she would never live it down. Meanwhile, Draco is determined to figure out who the fuck is cursing him to suffer through highly realistic, erotic hallucinations of his secret childhood crush. When he finds the culprit, there will be hell to pay.

The Missing Sister by singularritae - M, 75 chapters, Words: 652,727 - The owl appeared late at night and left just as suddenly, he recognised the handwriting immediately and ripped open the envelope. She is yours. If something happens to us, I want you to hide her. Name her Hermione, for she will have my last libation before I sleep and be the messenger of dreamers. Moony and Mary know. Three words. Three words that forever changed the course of the war.

A Gallows Marriage by MilaBelle - E, 31 chapters, Words: 162,244 - “Glee was the last thing she felt staring into the empty eyes that should have been a bright grey. His face had always looked pointed and sharp, but now that gave way to gauntness. His hair, which he had been so particular about in school, hung long and limp. It reminded her of how his father had looked in his mugshot. How he had wanted to be just like his father growing up. And now he was, maybe more than ever. A ghost.” After doing more than her fair share in saving the Wizarding World and bearing the scars of what it cost, Hermione Granger thinks she has earned herself a little respite. But when a charismatic albeit chaotic Theodore Nott convinces her to use an old law to save a dear friend who is about to meet the Dementor’s Kiss, she simply cannot stand by and watch. Follow Hermione as she navigates a world that still believes in blood status, a marriage to save the life of an old enemy and the hurt that comes with surviving.

an ever-fixed mark by ninepiecesofcrait - E, 28 chapters, Words: 208,118 - It was a comedy of errors how Hermione Granger ended up engaged to Draco Malfoy, really. A series of unfortunate events. // Malfoy looked at his bloodied hand and the ring on the cobblestone floor, and sighed. “Well, Granger.” Grey eyes finally raised to look at her. “Now look what you’ve done.” // [while working to break a curse in malfoy’s cellar, hermione accidentally touches an enchanted betrothal heirloom from the noble house of black. things rapidly fall apart from there.]

The Best Mistake by Chels_Writes_a_Fic - E, 26 chapters, Words: 127,444 - Hermione Granger does not make mistakes, at least not often. After making the biggest, dumbest, most horrible mistake of her life, Hermione must deal with the repercussions while keeping her relationship with her Auror partner, Draco Malfoy, strictly professional. He, of course, has other plans. Amidst a resurgence in Death Eater activity, the likes of which Britain hasn’t seen since the First Wizarding War, Hermione will come to realize that the mistake she’s made with Draco might not be so bad at all. It just might be the best mistake.

disparate by Stars_in_motion - E, 4 chapters, Words: 40,708 - au where omegas who go neglected by their alpha for a long time often go into breakthrough heats when being around a different, compatible alpha who displays one (1) caretaking trait around them "You– you brought me supper?" Malfoy eyed her warily. "Don't look so stricken. Do you think I haven't noticed you've been starving yourself for days? You were at your desk when I arrived this morning and haven't moved since." He opened the box of fruit and plucked out a single grape with his sinfully long fingers. Still seated in her desk chair, Malfoy loomed over her entirely so she couldn't look anywhere else. Sometimes it was easier to forget how large he really was. "Now eat."

Mind the Bump by Soap1 - E, 28 chapters, Words: 84,050 - Hermione Granger and her colleague (and, though she sometimes hates to admit it, her friend) Theo Nott, are busy at the Research Institute for the Alchemical Sciences, working together on an innovative, though secretive, project that more than one person might like to get their hands on. She doesn't have much time for dating, and certainly isn't ready to think about starting a family. But after an exciting, though unexpected, one-night stand, she finds herself pregnant. With Draco Malfoy's baby. As her research continues, as her pregnancy progresses, will she be able to make room for Draco in her life?

Détraquée by Hystaracal - M, 108 chapters, Words: 728,097 - "All her growth was the conveying of a corpse of hope." (From 'The Rainbow', D.H. Lawrence) This is a story about coming into one's own, a meditation on the twilight of girlhood and the violence of crash-landing into womanhood. Follow Hermione as she navigates through the quagmire: Saving the world, getting top grades, falling in love, lust, and a whole lot of trouble, and comes out of it hopefully (at least) partially sane.

#dramione #year wrap up #ao3 #favourite fics #2024

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cosmicpuzzle · 5 months ago

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Random Astro Notes

Moon in Aquarius create distance and space when someone gets too close and emotional.

If you are born with Moon opposite Sun, then your parents might have had problems reconciling their differences.

Capricorn ascendant might remodel their homes in their late 50's or early 60's reason being mars is 4th lord of retirement.

Gemini Moons needs to count to 10 before they speak as they can often regret what they said in haste. As much as Geminis can be termed rational, Gemini moons are not as emotions are strongly involved in their speech and communication.

Gemini moon in the solar return can show a very busy year. You may be shifting residences, changing cities or renovating home etc.

Taurus Moon can spend considerably on purchase of home. In fact, purchase of home is on their top priority list from their younger years.

I think people with Uranus dominant like to shake up people from old ways of living. You will often see shocks and surprises from Uranians. They may suddenly change their career, end a marriage etc when you least expect of them. Uranians make very weird choices in their life.

For Readings and Reports DM

#astrology #astrology observations #zodiac #zodiac signs #astro observations #astro community #vedic astrology #astro notes #vedic astro notes #astrology community

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the-ace-with-spades · 8 months ago

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Mav and Bradley reconcile and he finds out (it's not really a surprise tho) that Mav and Ice got married, so he apologizes for not being there for them at their wedding.

Mav blinks at him all confused because while he's feeling something at Bradley being so remorseful — looking like a kicked puppy, really — about missing a big moment of their life but also because, "Oh, no, buddy, we didn't have a wedding."

And the thing is, they got married when Ice's health took a turn for the worse, and it was allowed and legal and would, in Ice's opinion, make a lot of things easier for Mav in case he died — even just from an inheritance point, or just so the Navy doesn't forbid him from being part of the state funeral. It was a very quick sign the papers, get someone to officiate it in the hospital, and then get their lawyer to adjust the paperwork in the express time kind of marriage.

Things got better and life went on and they just, well, forgot to have a real wedding. And they were fine with it. They didn't need a wedding, in fact now that Bradley was back in their life, they couldn't be happier.

But in Bradley's head, an idea is born. Mav and Ice will have their 30th anniversary in a few months (more like almost 10...) and it's the perfect time to get them to have a wedding. You know, as a gift from him for missing all those years from their life.

The problem is, it very quickly turns out that Bradley is shitty at planning weddings. He doesn't know where to start and what needs to be organized and how to organize it in a way that lets it stays a surprise.

But you know who is good at it? Jake Seresin, brother of four sisters, planner of four weddings.

And how does Bradley know that? Well. He might or might not have been Jake's plus one to all four of those weddings.

#this sounds like a plot to a rom com #please do not look too deep into the logistics of this #hangster #icemav #tgm

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cottonlemonade · 4 months ago

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Time Well Spent

word count: 984 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: suggestive, fluff

warnings: mdni

request: medium guava lemonade with frozen berries for Shinsuke || fluffy-spicy vacation with boyfriend Shinsuke

If you would ask anyone on the street they‘d all agree that Kita was a devoted, patient, and sweet-mannered grandson and when he started dating you two years ago fresh out of university, everyone thought that you were a great match. Walking hand in hand around the small town was almost guaranteed to spark questions of marriage or an armful of some fresh vegetable that an overly excited grandmother wanted to share with the happy couple.

So when you moved in together this summer, there was gossip about an impending wedding, but Kita shot it down immediately. Not, because he didn‘t want to marry you - he would have done so long ago if he wasn‘t worried of rushing you. But because he thought things were too hectic currently to even think about any kind of ceremony. His grandmother had come to visit. Or better, to stay as it seemed. In a surge of energy, she asked a local carpenter to completely redo her house, and, not wanting her to be inconvenienced staying somewhere else, you and Kita were quick to invite her to your new home. The downside was, the walls were very thin and she had been there for over a month. You both already missed the intimacy and freedom you had just acquired and as much as you loved Yumi, you missed having your boyfriend to yourself.

“Are you sure it‘s no problem?“, you asked for the hundredth time as Kita carried the last piece of luggage to his truck.

“None at all, sweetheart.“, Yumi said, patting your full cheek gently, “Ya two deserve some time off. Always workin‘ like that... That‘s not good for yer soul.“

“We‘ll be back in three days.“

“I know.“, Yumi laughed, “Believe it or not, I have lived on my own before, y/n-chan.“

You gave her one more hug, Kita received a pat on the head and together you got in the car, and off you went. The drive to the city wasn‘t very long, luckily and you sighed contently as you watched the sun set over the many rice paddies you drove past. Kita had his free hand entwined with yours on the middle console and rubbed his thumb soothingly over your soft skin. You couldn’t wait to be alone with him for three whole days and you knew he felt the same way.

“Almost there, dove.“, he said as the truck, seemingly out of place between all the gleaming city cars, turned right on an intersection. As he drove, a big building with flashy castle-like turrets came into view and you were just about to point it out and make a comment about how comical it looked when Kita pulled into the parking lot.

“Uhm, babe? Are you sure this is the right place?“

“Very.“, he said as he opened the door for you and held out his hand to you.

You looked around, noting the many windows with the curtains drawn. It was barely dinner time, you expected there to be a lot more bustling.

The reception desk had you do a double take. Only a small opening in an otherwise milky window gave any indication that there was a person on the other side.

Kita retrieved your keys and held out his hand again.

“Ya ready, dove?“

Your eyes fell onto the many brochures tucked into a little stand next to the reception and realization dawned. This was a love hotel. Did… did Kita book it accidentally? It wouldn‘t be strange for your sometimes densely innocent boyfriend to think that maybe for your special weekend off, he should look for something extra romantic. And what was more romantic than a hotel with the word love in the title?

As you waited for the elevator you tried to think of a way to bring it up without sounding patronizing. The thought process was an adorable one for sure.

“11… 11… 9, 10, 11. Here we are.“, he announced and opened the door.

The room was a whole lot tamer than you expected, judging from the dark atmospheric hallway and those brochures in the lobby. It was pretty cute, actually. The bed was ginormous and strewn with rose petals like you‘d expect a honeymoon suite to be. It had a soft, traditional feel to it. Setting down the bags by the door and kicking off your shoes you went to explore and froze in your tracks when you saw a whole array of condoms on the coffee table by the large TV. You should tell him.

“Honey, I love that you booked the hotel and everything-“ You were cut off by him coming up behind you and kissing your neck. His strong arm wrapped around your soft tummy and pulled you against him. Your eyes fluttered shut and, once you gathered your thoughts, you tried again.

“Did you check the website when you booked it?“

He hummed Yes against your skin, his lips and tongue making it very difficult to focus on what you wanted to say.

Squeezing your eyes shut you decided to just tell him. “This is a love hotel.“

Silence. Kita‘s lips brushed one more time against that spot under your ear that always drove you crazy, then broke from you. You turned around, expecting to see him confused.

And he was. “I know.“, he said with a questioning eyebrow.

You pushed further, worried that your point didn‘t come across. “You… do you know what love hotels are for?“

He nodded. “Yeah.“

With one swift motion, he grabbed one of the condoms from the coffee table and, guiding you backward by your hips it didn‘t take long for you to fall back onto the supremely soft sheets. Kita stood over you, using one hand to undo his jeans, the other to open the packaging with his teeth. He smiled down at your surprised blush. “I‘m very well aware.“

a/n: thank you so much for your request, hon. I hope it was somewhat what you had in mind 😏🌟 @ranscutedoll

And what is a post of mine without a thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for having the sparking idea!

#sunnys lemonade stand #kita x chubby reader #kita shinsuke x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita imagine #shinsuke kita x reader #haikyuu kita #kita fluff #kita shinsuke #hq kita #kita x reader #kita smut

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glossdebut · 2 months ago

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so hot (you’re hurting my feelings) | KSJ

✧ PAIRING: seokjin x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: You haven’t heard from your ex, Seokjin, in a year. When you're invited to his best friend Yoongi's engagement party, you know you should say no, that you should just leave it alone. But you can't pass up the chance to show Seokjin what he lost.

✧ TAGS: exes to lovers, light angst, seokjin’s problem is that he is chronically unserious (who is surprised?), smut, seokjin has a big dick (again who is surprised?)

✧ WARNINGS: hurt feelings, the angst is pretty light but it's still there, vaginal sex, riding!!!

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: it is here!!! sorry it took so long, i've never written seokjin before!!! and then it turned into a monster like holy fuck. like study break, this wasn't beta'd, so i apologize in advance for mistakes/repeated phrases. seriously, i didn't even re-read it after i finished it because i just can't look at it anymore LMAO. STREAM HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!

✧ WORDCOUNT: 4.4k words

[10:42] Seokjin: i heard jimin invited you to the party for yoongi and eunji on saturday

[10:42] Seokjin: are you going?

You should’ve said no. That is one-hundred percent clear to you now.

Better yet, you really should’ve blocked Seokjin’s number a long time ago, laughed in Park Jimin’s stupid face when he invited you in the first place.

You’re super happy for Yoongi, you are. You were around when he and Eunji first started seeing each other, watched Yoongi agonize over the mushy, embarrassing feelings that come with falling in love. The fact that they’re engaged now? Insane. But knowing Yoongi, he surely would’ve been just as satisfied with a cursory ‘congratulations’ text.

Any sentence that starts with ‘Yoongi’ and ends in ‘party’ usually has a big, fat ‘doesn’t want to go to’ smushed in the middle. Bold and underlined. You knew from the get-go that any and all planning of this party was Jimin’s doing, and Jimin’s doing alone. That Yoongi would’ve been totally unbothered if you couldn’t make it.

Besides, Yoongi may be your friend, but Seokjin is your ex. And wherever there is Min Yoongi, there is also Kim Seokjin. Fuck, he’s probably going to be the best man. The logical part of you knew that it would be better for all parties involved to politely decline, to make up an excuse not to go.

Instead, what you said was—

[10:58] You: yeah i’ll be there

Maybe you’re trying to prove a point. Prove that you’re better off now, although whether you’re trying to prove it to Seokjin or yourself you still don’t know. It would explain the dress you’re wearing: short, fitting, a soft, baby pink—his favorite. Look at what you gave up, it screams.

Because you need him to know.

You haven’t seen each other in well over a year. It hurt, then, but now you’re thankful because it means he missed your rock bottom. He missed all of the tears you shed for him, the stolen sweatshirts you refused to stop wearing—the gaping, Seokjin-shaped hole he left in your life.

There was a time where you’d thought Seokjin was The One. It was no secret that you were heading towards marriage. Seokjin is the type of guy you’d always fantasized about being married to. On paper, he was perfect: kind, handsome, funny. Knew his way around a kitchen. Charmed your parents within seconds of meeting them.

But perfect on paper very seldom means perfect in reality. As it turned out, Seokjin had many flaws, the most notable being his inability to have difficult conversations. It was endearing until it wasn’t, until difficult conversations became more and more necessary to have the kind of future you’d dreamed of having with him.

Even the way things ended felt like the punchline to a joke that didn’t quite land. You broke things off, but you were still the more heartbroken one in the end. He handled it so graciously.

So, yes, part of you desperately needs him to see you, now that you’ve picked yourself back up.

Another part, though—a part that has decided to only make itself known now that you’ve actually stepped foot into Park Jimin’s soiree from hell—is fucking terrified of facing him after all this time. Terrified that he’ll see right through the makeup, the styled hair, the carefully placed mask—to find that you’re just as shattered as you were the day he left.

Standing here now, at a party that could’ve been yours and Seokjin’s in another life, you suddenly feel like you’ve made a horrible mistake.

But you’re here. No turning back now, because Jimin has already seen you, will surely notice if you suddenly go missing.

Thankfully, you excel at compartmentalizing like no other. Revenge era aside, you’re here to celebrate Yoongi and Eunji more than anything else. You fix your dress, fix your smile. Raise a glass to the happy couple and swallow down your nerves with a mouthful of expensive champagne.

You make your rounds. You haven’t seen most of the people here since you and Seokjin broke up, since they were all Seokjin’s friends first. Despite the urge to look over your shoulder every ten seconds, it’s nice to see them. You missed them.

The happy couple are just that: happy. Although Yoongi looks like he wants to strangle Party Planner Jimin™ with the tie he’s been forced to wear. Namjoon got a promotion at work since you last saw him. Hoseok is seeing someone new. Taehyung is seeing several new someones. Jeongguk is pink-cheeked and plastered. Everything is the same and completely different, and you can’t help the fondness that fills you as you greet them one by one.

Foolishly, you almost forget. Almost. You just barely make it to Yoongi’s fancy kitchen, looking to top off your champagne, when suddenly you feel a warm, familiar hand on your elbow.

“Y/N...”

Of course.

You’re frozen to the spot, unable to even turn around to face him. It’s been over a year since you’ve heard his voice and just the sound of it makes your throat feel tight. How embarrassing would it be if you cried in front of him before you even get a word in?

“Y/N, please look at me,” Seokjin says, voice soft.

Fucking get it together, you think.

You swallow thickly, school your features into the most neutral expression you can manage, and turn around.

Oh, life is unfair. Life is so unfair, because you had mentally prepared yourself for Seokjin to look great. Seokjin always looks great. There are no exceptions to that rule. He once used your kitchen scissors to cut his own bangs, and even though it looked like someone had taken a bite out of them, he was still fit for the cover of a magazine. Dazzling.

What you hadn’t prepared for, though, is that he would look even better than when you last saw him. Great you could’ve handled, but better? Did losing you really do him so many favors?

His hair is black again, as opposed to the chocolate brown you’d last seen. Shorter, too, and artfully styled. It’s hard for you to wrap your head around, but somehow he looks bigger, just enough for you to take notice.

And if things couldn’t get more devastating for you, three whole buttons at the top of his shirt have been left unbuttoned. Two more buttons than he’d normally ever allow, showing off a tantalizing swath of chest.

Kim Seokjin, what happened to your modesty, you whore?

“Hi,” he says, smiling at you kindly. He’s breathless and pink, like he’d done a little jog to get to you. You try not to read into it. Compose yourself.

“Hi,” you reply, polite but so, so carefully detached.

“I guess this was inevitable, huh?”

Not really, you think to yourself. He’s the one who approached you. He could’ve just as easily not—it would’ve been the kinder thing to do. But you bite your tongue.

“Guess so,” you say instead.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” Seokjin says.

You’re not quite sure what to do with that. Why would you even cross his mind anymore, if he so obviously didn’t care when you dumped him?

Sensing that you don’t know what to say, Seokjin continues, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly.

“What I mean is, I’m really unhappy with the way we left things.”

That makes you scoff. The first crack in your mask of politeness.

“You didn’t seem it, when it happened,” you reply coolly. “I don’t know what could’ve possibly changed in a year of zero contact.”

He visibly deflates a little, his smile faltering. “Y/N, I—”

“I don’t want to do this, Seokjin,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “There’s no use digging up the past. We ended for a reason.”

“I know that,” he insists. He steps closer to you and you immediately step back in response. “Look, can’t we just talk?”

“You want to talk now?” you ask, your mounting frustration spilling over at his insistence. His proximity, the familiar smell of him overwhelms your brain. “It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”

“Don’t be stubborn, Y/N,” Seokjin huffs. The nerve of him, sounding just as frustrated as you. He doesn’t have the right. “I want… I want to explain. Just let me explain.”

You know it’s not the time or the place to do this. Normally, you’d be completely disinterested in the prospect of hashing things out in Yoongi’s kitchen, in a party full of people. But all of the what if’s that have piled up the past year nag at you to listen to what he has to say.

“Fine,” you snap, impatient. “If that’s what I have to do to get you to leave me alone.”

Seokjin sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “When you ended things… I just—I let you,” he says. “I let you because you were right. I didn’t know how to handle conflict between us. I thought… I thought if I just brushed our problems off, if I made you laugh and put them out of your mind, it would be enough to make everything okay.”

He looks down, staring at his shiny shoes. If you were together, you would crack a joke about him staring at his own reflection. Not the time for that, though.

“And clearly, it wasn’t. You were unhappy. And I hated that I was the one to make you that way, because all I ever wanted to do was make you smile,” he continues. “So I let you go. I thought you’d be better off.”

Better off? How could he possibly think you would be better off without him? How could he possibly think that you didn’t want him to fight for you, back then? All you wanted was for him to prove you wrong, to show you that he could own up to his faults, and instead…

“I wasn’t ready to have those hard conversations with you, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m ready now,” Seokjin says as he looks up at you. “I don’t want to laugh things off, or push them aside and hope it gets better. I know I’m a year too late, but I want to be better for you, if you’ll let me.”

Shit.

“Jin, I… Those are pretty words, but how am I supposed to trust that things will actually be different this time?”

“...I guess you won’t know unless you try,” he says. His voice is soft, fragile like spun sugar. “I won’t blame you if you don’t want to take the risk. But… Y/N, I love you. I at least need you to know that. I never stopped.”

Love.

He never stopped loving you. But… If he never stopped loving you, why did he wait so long to tell you? You want to believe him, but it all feels too good to be true. You’re overwhelmed, caught at a crossroads you had no idea you’d face when you agreed to come tonight.

“...I don’t know,” you say weakly. The tears that have been forming in your eyes finally start to spill, one by one. “I don’t know if that’s good enough. This past year has been… I don’t want to let you back in just to get hurt all over again. I don’t know if I can pick myself back up a second time.”

“You won’t have to,” he says gently. He reaches out to touch your arm, hesitant, and you let him. “I’m serious about this, Y/N. I know I won’t be perfect, but I don’t ever want to lose you again. Not if I can help it.”

You sniffle and Seokjin’s hands reach for you, cradling your face. His thumbs rub at your cheeks gently.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, his voice almost pained. “You’re gonna mess up your pretty makeup.”

You let your eyes fall shut, allow yourself a steadying breath as Seokjin wipes your tears away.

Maybe it’s the familiarity, the ease with which you let him touch you, even after everything that’s happened. Maybe it’s all of the built-up longing you’ve stored for him over the past year, bubbling over now that he’s in front of you, broad and strong and safe. Maybe it’s that he still loves you. You know you should think this over a little longer, that you shouldn’t fold so easily. That there’s so much more to talk about and work through. But still…

“Okay,” you say, your heart pounding in your chest. “You get one more chance. On a trial basis.”

Seokjin’s stupid, perfect lips pop open, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ in what you can only assume is shock. Like he was ready for a swift and justified rejection, wasn’t expecting his speech to pay off.

“Are you sure?”

You aren’t. You won’t be, not until he proves himself. Not until he shows you that he’s ready to face the hard parts of a relationship, to handle it like an adult when things get bad. But damn if you don’t want to give him the chance to.

“I’m gonna put you through the fucking wringer,” you say, firm. “I’m going to make you talk about all of the things you skipped out on before. But… I want to let you try.”

Seokjin. laughs breathlessly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I deserve that. We can talk about anything you want,” he concedes. Warm eyes study you for a moment before he lets out a tentative, “can I kiss you?” He sounds so hopeful, you can’t bring yourself to deny him.

You loop your arms around his neck, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss. It’s crazy, how it takes you right back to the start. Your first date—Seokjin, ever the gentleman, walking you to your door. The tentative press of lips for the very first time, his hands hovering by your waist like he’s afraid to touch you.

But it isn’t the first time. After a moment of nerves, Seokjin eases into it, deepens it. His hands are confident when they finally make contact with your waist, pressing you against the kitchen island behind you. You melt into the easy slide of his lips against yours, surprising yourself when your tongue slides against his, earning a pleased hum from him.

It dawns on you how inappropriate this is, making out with your ex (???) in his best friend’s kitchen—at his best friend’s engagement party—but you can’t bring yourself to care that much. Not when you’ve finally gotten a taste of what you’ve been missing for so long.

When he finally pulls away, Seokjin’s lips are deliciously swollen. You can’t tear your gaze away no matter how hard you try. Your hands smooth over his shirt, feeling his broad shoulders, the silky material stretching over them.

“I know I owe you a much longer conversation, but…” He trails off. You shiver when you feel his breath on your neck. “God, this dress…”

He trails a finger down a thin strap, and just like that, your every nerve ending is alight. It’s embarrassing, how easily you crumble for him from just a little bit of kissing. How your thighs squeeze together at the husky tone of his voice.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing his nose against the side of your neck, breathing you in. “Did you wear this dress for me?”

“Wanted you to know what you lost,” you mumble, a little petulant. Still wanting to punish him, just a little.

“I know what I lost,” Seokjin admits easily. His hand smooths down your side, over the silky material of your dress. “Believe me, I know. I’m an idiot.”

Shit. This is working for him. Groveling looks just as good on him as everything else does.

“You are,” you agree weakly, your eyes fluttering shut. He’s being perfectly respectful, keeping his hands in safe places, and you’re already falling apart.

“Let me take you home with me,” he says. When his plush lips press to your neck, you can’t hide the way your breath hitches. “Let me make up for it.”

“Are you joking? You can’t leave,” you say, breathless. “What about Yoongi?” The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, and you know Seokjin can see right through you. How close you are to saying fuck it.

“Yoongi wants to be at this party even less than I do,” Seokjin says. “You know that. Please, baby.”

★★★

When you make it to Seokjin’s apartment, it becomes clear that both of your patience is wearing dangerously thin.

In all the time that you’ve known him, you’ve never known Seokjin to be like this—the passionate, ‘need to have you now’ kind of guy—and you really didn’t mind. Instead, he was an exceptionally respectful lover. He took his time, checked in with you to make sure you liked what he was doing. Missionary with eye contact. Seokjin didn’t fuck, he made love.

But when he unzips your dress, lets it pool at your feet, guides you to lay on the bed that you’d once shared—you feel like all he’s itching to do right now is fuck you.

It’s the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark as he takes in the matching set that was hidden under your dress—also pink. You’ve never seen this look on Seokjin before.

“This,” he murmurs, his fingers skimming over your clothed heat, forcing a gasp out of you. “This is new. Never seen it before.”

Suddenly, you understand what must be going through his head. Had you bought this for someone else? Had someone else slowly peeled it off of you, unwrapped you like a gift?

In reality, you haven’t slept with anyone else since you broke things off, too busy throwing yourself into work to think about it. Still, it’s nice to see the little flicker of jealousy in his expression, the tick in his jaw.

You look up at him, biting back a smug grin. “You like it?”

“Mmm,” he hums in affirmation, fingers finding your clit with an ease that only someone who knows your body like he does could manage. “Very much.”

Seokjin forces a moan out of you as he rubs you in circles, soaking the fabric of your panties with the wetness that had built up during the ride to his apartment.

“I bought it last week,” you gasp out, quelling his worries in an instant. It would be nice, of course, to torture him a little bit longer, but the burning need between your legs is getting too difficult to bear. “Needed something that wouldn’t show through the dress.”

“So you bought it for me, too,” he smirks, tilting his head at you. The bastard. “You know, like the dress.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you grumble, although the way you squeeze your eyes shut and grind against his fingers tells a different story.

“Oh noooo, don’t kill me.” Seokjin grins, withdrawing his fingers to instead hook them into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs. “At least wait until after I make you cum. You’d be punishing yourself otherwise.”

Cocky motherfucker. You sit up on your elbows, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but when you open your eyes to look at him, you stop short.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, eyes wide as he stares down at your pussy. It’s a testament to how wrecked he is at the sight—Seokjin doesn’t curse often. “So beautiful…”

“Jin,” you gasp as he spreads you open with his thumbs, his plump bottom lip caught between his teeth as he discovers how much you’re dripping for him. “Don’t tease.”

“I won’t tease, baby,” he says silkily, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. “You know I have to work you open, though. No way you’ll be able to take me otherwise.”

You gasp when he sinks to his knees, cry out when he wraps his lips around your clit, laving over you with his tongue. When your hands fly down to his shoulders, holding him there, he hums in approval and you earn a deft finger sliding into you.

“M-more,” you moan, your back arching when that finger crooks up, rubbing expertly at your inner walls. “More, please…”

He pulls back, focusing his efforts on stretching you open with his fingers, two now. “Since you asked so nicely,” he says with a smug smirk.

By the time he adds a third you’re basically incoherent, right on the edge. You feel like you’re going to cum any second, writhing and moaning as your muscles tense in anticipation, but Seokjin withdraws as soon as he catches on.

“Not so fast,” he says, ignoring the way you whine at the loss, pussy clenching helplessly around nothing. Fuck, you feel so empty. “You know how I want you to cum, baby.”

Fucking tease. Fine, if he wants to be like that, maybe you will have an opportunity to torture him a little bit.

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, you look up at Seokjin as your hands find the front of his pants. You give him a squeeze, biting back a smirk when he practically whimpers at the contact.

“Y/N—”

“I wanna ride you, Jinnie,” you purr, looking up at him through your lashes as you unzip his pants and teasingly push them down his legs.

“Yeah, okay,” he wheezes, nodding jerkily. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. Cute, you think. You haven’t seen him like this since the first handful times you had sex, months after you started dating. Despite having had sex before, it took him a while to stop being a blushing mess. It fills you with satisfaction that not having you for so long has brought this side out in him again.

Once the rest of his clothes are shed and you’ve very slowly rolled a condom onto him—much to Seokjin’s embarrassment—you guide him to sit up against his headboard, climbing onto his lap to straddle him.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asks. His eyes are fixed on yours, searching.

“With the amount of times I’ve taken your stupid big cock, you really think I don’t know when I’m ready?” you tease, guiding his tip to slide between your folds.

All of the embarrassment is suddenly gone as Seokjin grips your ass firmly. “Yeah? Then take it,” he practically growls, making you shiver.

You slooooowly ease yourself down just the slightest bit, but the stretch of Seokjin’s cock is overwhelming after such a long time without it. All of the air is stolen from your lungs as you work him in, inch by agonizing inch.

“That’s it,” Seokjin says, his hands rubbing over your thighs soothingly. “You okay?”

“‘M good,” you manage, your hands gripping at his forearms as you sink down deeper. Once he’s fully sheathed, you take a long moment to catch your breath, feeling the way he pulses inside of you.

Once you feel ready, you give an experimental roll of your hips, testing the waters. You both moan in unison, and when you look up at Seokjin it’s clear he’s using all of his restraint not to fuck up into you.

“God,” he grits out, pained. “You feel so good.”

“You do, too,” you moan, setting a slow rhythm for yourself as you fuck yourself on his cock. “Always feel good, Jinnie.”

He surges forward to kiss you, the shift in angle making you gasp into his mouth. Your kisses are sloppy, unable to maintain any finesse as your movements become more confident, more desperate.

When he decides you can take it, his hips start to snap up to meet yours.

“Fuck,” you moan against his lips, overwhelmed by the intensity. “God—Jin, holy shit.”

“Look so good on my cock,” he groans, pulling back from the kiss to watch the way you bounce in his lap, his tongue darting out run over his bottom lip. “‘M never gonna get tired of seeing you like this.”

You’re going to cum. You were already close before, but now—with the way he’s gazing at you, with the feeling of him inside of you—you’re so close to tipping over the edge it’s making your head spin.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, his hand snaking between your bodies to rub your clit with his thumb. “Cum for me, baby. So beautiful.”

That’s all it takes. The pleasure is overwhelming, your muscles tightening as you muffle a cry into his shoulder. Seokjin lets out a low moan, his thrusts turning erratic under you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You’re limp on top of him, moaning incoherently as Seokjin chases his own release, the sounds of his hips slamming up against your ass rattling around in your ears.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans as he spills into you. He slows to a stop, both of you panting as his forehead presses against yours. Eyes squeezed shut, you fumble blindly for his hands to lace your fingers with his, still catching your breath.

It feels so right, being with him like this again. You were afraid, at first, that there was too much baggage between you for it to feel this good. But sitting here now, both of you glowing with pleasure, all of that fear is gone.

“Seokjin,” you pant, squeezing his hands. “Don’t let me leave again. If we’re going to do this, I need you to fight for me.”

When you open your eyes, Seokjin is grinning at you stupidly. He looks so, so fond that it makes your heart skip a beat.

“I already told you, I’m not losing you again,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Good,” you say, a soft smile playing at your lips.

It feels like a moment. You’re both exactly where you should be, wrapped up in each other as if you’d never been apart in the first place.

“...Are you going to tell me you love me while my dick is still inside you?” he teases, his grin growing even wider.

Huffing, you smack at his chest, earning a wheezing laugh from him.

“I do love you, you idiot,” you complain. Kim Seokjin, the king of ruining moments, seriously.

“I know, baby,” he says, stifling his laughter enough to kiss you softly. “I love you, too.”

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