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arina24 · 4 months ago

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Winters with Winter

Aespa Winter x M Reader

3.6k words

Tags: SMUT, some fluff, blowjob, missionary, virgin

There was a nip in the air. Winter's arrival was faster than expected. You realized this was going to be yet another winter you were going to spend being a little more lonely than you wished. It wasn't all too bad. Winters weren't completely horrible. The opportunity to snuggle with a hot cup of coffee or chocolate was comforting. You just wished you were snuggling with someone, that's all.

It was yet another chilly morning as you made your way to work. That particular morning, winter had carried with her some generous showers, and fortunately you didn't forget your umbrella that day. In fact, you had two. You forgot an umbrella the previous day and bought an extra one from the store, and now you just travel with 2 umbrellas, because why not.

As you got off from the metro train, you fidgeted with the tight button, trying to open it, before a young woman catches your eye. She was maybe a couple years younger than you, it was hard to tell her age with how strikingly cute she was. She was in a simple blue tee, with a hoodie for protection from the cold. Blonde hair flowing down her neck, and bouncing off the shoulders of her petite body.

She was extremely beautiful and all, but the reason she caught your eye was because she seemed to be extremely nervous, biting her nails as she kept looking outside at the pouring rain, as if she could wish it away to go from 100 to 0 in 2 seconds. You didn't know what it was for, but she clearly needed to be out there. Something made you walk up to her. "Hey, need an umbrella?" You asked. She looked up to you, freeing her nails from her mouth.

"Umm, Yeah! Yes I do! OMG I've got an interview and I was so stupid to forget my umbrella." She paused for a moment, seeming to get over the initial excitement of getting hope. "Wait, if you give me yours, what will you do?" She looked even cuter close up, her hair almost magical and making her look like some sort of angel.

"It's alright, I've got another one. Yesterday I forgot mine and bought an extra." You replied, for some reason wanting her to take it and almost pushing the umbrella in her hands.

"Thank you, I wish I could thank you more but it's already really late for the interview. How do I return this to you?" She put her hands in her handbag. "Maybe I can pay you something..."

"No no, just go do well in your interview. Don't worry about all this."

"Thank you again, I hope you get all the good things in life." She replied before rushing away into the rain with your umbrella in the air.

The small interaction made you feel better. You lost an umbrella. You might never see her again. But it made you feel good. In fact as fate would have it, you would see her again. But not the umbrella.

A few nights later, as you were going home in the metro, couple of fingers tap your shoulder. You look back to see the same girl, in a pretty pink dress this time, surrounded by a thick hoodie. The dress only came down to her thighs, and you were wondering how she went out in this chilling winter with exposed legs.

"Hello, umbrella man. Do you remember me?"

"Wha- Umbrella ma-? Miss I've got a name."

"I bet you do, but you haven't told me it."

"Y/N" You offer your hand, covered in gloves. Unsurprisingly, her legs weren't the only unexposed skin, and her bare palm meets your gloves.

"Winter."

"Yeah, it's cold. That's why I've got them on."

"No, my name's Winter." She replied, giggling, making the cutest noise.

"Huh? Cute name. No wonder you seem to be handling it so well."

"Yes I was born with the powers to handle winter, which my parents sensed so excellently." She joked, giggling again. "Oh wait your umbrella, let me return it." She shoved her hands in her hand bag, searching for a solid 2 minutes before she looks up at you with a dejected face. "Sorry... I forgot it again."

"That's alright, I didn't hope to retrieve it anyway. How did your interview go though?"

"It went great, I was offered the job. The least I can do is return it for you. Which station do you get off on?"

"Antarse Street"

"Oh that's my stop too. My house is a 3 minute walk from there. If you come with me, I can return your umbrella." She replied, excited at the possibility.

You weren't sure if you wanted to go. It was late in the evening and you didn't really want your umbrella back, it was an old one which you would have thrown away in a while anyway. You hesitate to reply.

"I'll even make you some coffee. Though I can't attest to how good it is. No one else has had my coffee." She continues, hoping to win you over with coffee.

The thought of being the first other person to have Winter's coffee was enough to convince you. You continue talking with her till the stop comes. She yaps a lot. You listen. She likes that. She talks about how she’s been so desperate for a job, until she finally found one at the interview after your chance meeting. She had just graduated college and was more or less alone in the city, which made you a bit sad, but also made you feel she was in a way, like you.

She's clumsy, but endearing. Her hair was tied up today. The hoodie covering up most of her dress. You wonder how she'd look in just her pink dress and her hair flowing free again. She would look like spring flowers, you thought. Winter.... an ironic name for her. You step off the station with her, and start walking with her. She begins blowing into her hands as the chill gets a bit more intense, late in the night.

"You alright?" You ask, a bit concerned. She was clearly not a very forward thinking girl.

"Yeah... maybe I shouldn't have forgotten my gloves as well." She replies meekly.

"You can have mine if you want. I'm not very cold."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah your hands seem to be freezing."

"Alright.. maybe you deserve a bit more than just coffee." She said with a smirk.

You weren't sure what that meant, but you removed your gloves, tapped it off a couple of times to get rid of any dirt and offered it to her. She put it on and smiled. It felt intimate. It was your gloves around her hands and not your hands. But it felt just as intimate as holding her hands. The look in her eyes said she felt the same.

Her apartment was more than a few blocks away, more than the 3 minute walk she promised. But it felt nice to be walking in this weather with her. It’s been a while since you’ve walked alone with a girl like this, even though the cold made her less talkative. Soon, the two of you reach her building. The apartment building wasn't anything to speak of, and her house less so. Things were a mess, even the living room.

"You live alone?"

"Yeah, it's a 1 bedroom, recently moved here for the job. Sorry for the mess... I just forget things." That much was clear to you already. She continued sheepishly, "You see, I wasn't expecting visitors."

"Yeah? Bet it would have been spic and span if you did." You reply, mocking her.

She stares at you, pretending to be offended, and hits your shoulder. "Meanie. Now wait here as I go make your coffee." She says, shoving some clothes off a seat in the couch to create space for you. You sit there awkwardly and look around the rest of the room.

There’s a table and few chairs, but not where they’re supposed to be. Table in one corner, and chairs in the opposite corner, also filled with clothes. The table has a strewn collection of random items, among them a picture of what looks like a younger Winter with her parents. She’s posing cutely for the camera near a Mickey Mouse cutout, with her parents standing behind the cutout.

“Do I look cute in that pic?” Her voice calls out, catching you surprised.

“What- I mean yeah, yeah, baby you is a cutie. These are your parents?”

“Yeah.. they passed away in an accident last year. I’ve had this photo on my table ever since.” She replies in a silent tone. “Oh I’m so sorry Winter..”, you reply. It made you wonder how she really was doing, she mentioned she didn’t really have any friends in the city, and with her parents not being here either.... must have been rough. She really didn’t show it if she did, always having a cheerful and playful tone, except for this one instance. You wondered how well you were hiding yours.

“Enough being sad, you came here for coffee so let’s have it.” She breaks the silence, and presents two cups with generous amounts of coffee. Actually, you came here for your umbrella, but you decide not to remind her of that fact and just accept her coffee. “So moment of truth, let’s find out if my coffee is actually good or I’ve just been gaslighting myself for the past 2 years.” Both of you take a sip of her coffee.

“Well... it’s certainly coffee.” You reply, then immediately wondering if you should have just lied. “Huh? I didn’t expect that.” She says, a bit dejected, but continues, “Well, you’re gonna have to make do with it.” The two of you finish drinking down the rest of your cups.

“Let me remove my hoodie, it’s already hot enough in here.” She says and takes off her hoodie in front of you, and frees up her hair, now in just her pink dress and flowing hair like you were imagining earlier. She looks more angelic than you were expecting somehow, even with minimal makeup after what seemed like a long day at her work. You couldn’t help but stare a bit too long.

“What are you looking at? Want me to get you one of these dresses? I think you would look good in this too.” She teases you, as you break away from staring and reply to her. “Why not just give me this one? I gave you my gloves and umbrella after all.” She moves closer to you. “How about I give you something else in return?” She says, in a low whispering, almost erotic tone.

“Hmm, like what?”

She leans in even closer, and her lips catch yours in an expected kiss. You are taken aback, as she pulls away. “Wait... was it not okay? I’m so sorry...” she stumbles, before you reply to her by kissing her back, erasing all suspicions from her mind. The kiss is innocent initially, but quickly turns lewder. Your tongue entering her mouth as her lips part, your tongue playing with hers in a lewd dance, as you taste all of her.

She tastes like sweet honey, and makes you let out a soft moan as you throw an arm around her neck and pull her in even closer to you. Her hand begins at your chin, and travels down your chest, slowly caressing you, before finally resting on your bulge, which was quickly growing harder and harder for her. Your other arm travels down her back, then catching her cute ass, which you squeeze softly, making her moan.

Pulling away from the kiss, you ask her, “You like that baby?”

“Yes I do.” She replies in a very soft, submissive tone, which turns you on even more.

“If you’re gonna give me the dress, we’re gonna have to take you out of it."

“That seems logical.” She replies and begins to fidget with her zipper, before you help her and get it all off her and throw it on the chair, adding to the already big pile of clothes. She’s in a soft pink bra, matching her dress, and black panties. You bring one hand down to her panties, and can see that it’s already dripping in her wetness.

With your other hand you tease her boobs over her bra, before unhooking her bra and throwing it off into the unknown. You circle your fingers around her nipple, and then bring your mouth near it. You start softly sucking on her nipples, as the slightest touch seems to stimulate her a lot, making her moan loudly and suppress various curses.

“Let’s head for your bedroom~ Look like we’ll defenitely be needing one tonight, and not just for sleeping.” That makes her giggle, and she grabs your hand and pulls you towards her bedroom. Entering, you lock the door, and the room is somehow even more of a mess than her living room.

You just push away the clothes, then softly push her on the bed. She tugs at your shirt, indicating she wants you out of clothes too. With her help, soon you’re out of your shirt and pants, with your cock almost wanting to burst out of your boxers already with how hard it is. She rubs her hand over your boxers, teasing your cock.

“My my~ You’re so hard already.”

“All because of you, baby.”

“Yeah baby? Why don’t you show me exactly how turned on I’ve gotten you.” Even the way she said baby in a sing-song voice made you feel like it was laced with honey, or maybe it was poison, but it seemed to make you addicted to it either way.

She continued rubbing your cock over your boxers, almost wishing it would come out like magic if she did. You fulfill her wishes and pull down your boxers swiftly, as your cock pops for her.

“It looks very pretty.” She says.

“Since when do cocks look pretty?” You laugh.

“Since today.” She says and wraps her fingers around your cock slenderly, and begins softly stroking you up and down. It was clear she didn’t have much experience with this, as she seemed to be doubting herself while doing so. “You’re doing well baby, you can hold it tighter if you want~” You encourage her. That instantly makes her more confident and her face brightens up.

She responds so cutely to praise, you think. She starts stroking faster and holding you tighter. She spits on her hands, and gently rubs it all over your cock, making sure not to miss a single spot. Her hands just glide over your cock now, making you feel even better as you begin moaning for her softly.

She brings her mouth closer to your cock and starts licking you with her tongue, going up all the way from your balls to your tip, spreading her saliva all over your cock. You place a hand on her head, caressing her hair, which makes her release another cute moan, and she places her lips around your cock. Firstly sucking on your tip, before taking the entirety of your length inside her mouth.

It hits the back of her throat, making her gag a little, although she quickly recovers. She bobs her head up and down on your cock, her tongue swirling around it as you moan louder and louder. Every moan you release and every time you caress your head it makes her more confident, as she sucks on you faster and faster.

After sucking for a while, she releases her mouth from your cock and stops for a pause, catching her breath. “You’re tired already baby? The night is just starting.” You tease her. “Not a chance.” She replies before taking your cock back in her mouth, for another round of sucking.

Her spit now drips out from her mouth, dripping down to her chest, making a mess. Her face and your crotch are both wet with the same thing now. She takes a break for the second time, more out of breath now as she takes heavy breaths with saliva still stretching out from your cock to her mouth.

“That’s enough babe~ Let me return the favour now.” You say and push her down with her head on the pillow. Your fingers reach her panties, and now they have no semblance of ever being anything but a wet dripping mess of her juices. You slide those panties down, exposing her pussy which looks just as cute as her, glistening with wetness.

You slide one finger in, as her juices coat your fingers. You shove the finger in your mouth and taste her juices. “It tastes like sweet nectar.” You tell her. “Don’t you want more of that where that came from, baby” She teases you.

You do, so your mouth goes down to her panties, and you spread your tongue across her pussy. Licking all across, getting a taste of her juices directly, as it makes her moan. “Fuck.” You slide a finger in her pussy at the same time, and start fingering her pussy, your fingers slick with her juices.

You reach her clit with your tongue, and every lick on it stimulates her to the point that she’s screaming. “Fuck! You’re doing so good! Don’t stop... Please don’t stop...” You can feel the neediness in her voice. Her neediness to cum for your mouth. You insert one more finger, and you’re alternating between sucking and licking on her clit, with two fingers sliding in and out of her pussy.

You could tell she was getting close with how she was twitching and basically grinding her pussy on your tongue faster than you could lick her. You don’t stop, listening to her desperate moans begging you to keep going.

You insert a third finger when you sense she’s about to cum. She begins squirting as she finishes, her liquids bursting out from her pussy and making a mess on your face, and wetting the sheets of her bed and the clothes around with her liquids. She holds on to your hair indicating you to keep going, and you do it till she’s made the entire bed wet with her juices.

“Fuck... you are so good at that...” She remarks, breathless. “Seems like you wanted to make an even bigger mess on my face than my cock did on yours.” You tease her. She just giggles before replying. “I hope we’re not done yet though.... I still need to feel your cock somewhere else.”

“Yeah? Where do you need to feel it?”

“You know where.. dont act silly” She says, blushing and looking down.

“Winter miss I think you’re well beyond the point of acting shy. Say it or you’re not getting it.”

“I need it in my pussy. I need it deep in my pussy. I wanna feel every inch of your cock in me.”

Hearing her say the thing you wanted to do most to her made you gather all your energy for perhaps the last round of the night. You get on top of her again. Lining up your cock with the pussy you just made squirt all over. She looks in your eye with lustful desire. Her eyes conveying all her deepest wants with nothing hiding it. Yet she somehow managed to look like the cutest girl in the universe. You weren’t sure how. You move your hips forward. She was so wet that your cock slipped right in.

Her pussy was tight, and she wraps her legs around you, not willing to let you go till you give her what she needs so badly. You comply, beginning to move your hips with a rhythm. She places one hand on your chest and pulls your body closer to her. She wants your body close to her. She wants your body ON her.

You catch her lips with yours as you continue thrusting. By this time both your faces and mouths are messes, but neither of you could care less, and the kiss is more intense than last time as you continue fucking her pussy.

She moans through the kiss, her moans escaping into your mouth and she gets loud for your cock in her. As you pull away from the kiss you can hear just how much moans she’s been suppressing. The sounds of your thighs clapping against hers was loud, but her moans easily blow over all of them.

“Fuck baby, your cock feels so fucking good.” All the honey in her baby is now gone. This one is driven by pure unadulterated lust.

You could listen to her moans for years. But you couldn’t keep going for years. All good things come to an end, and you could feel you were close to cumming. “I’m close Winter.” You let her know. “I want it IN ME. Please. Please.” She begs and wraps her legs tighter around you. Not willing to let go either way. You wanted to cum in her anyway.

She intertwines her fingers with yours and holds on to your palm tightly. “Cum in me baby. I want you.” She clenches her pussy around your cock tightly, which makes you release. Your load flows into her pussy filling her up, cumming more than you thought you could cum. As you move your hips back you can watch how much you came in her, with it now dripping out of her.

The two of you try to clean up (as much as you could after that tiring session) and cuddle into each other’s arms trying to fall asleep. You remember what she told you at the end of your first meeting. “I hope you get all the good things in life.” You think you already did.

#kpop smut #aespa smut #aespa x reader #winter smut #minjeong smut #aespa #winter

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 5 months ago

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The Prince - Chapter Four

A/N: Hello friends! This chapter is one of my favorites, full of angst and longing (my favorite things to write). I got to write from Rhaenyra's perspective, too, which was a new challenge. Please let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged! Thank you for all your support of my writing! It's been so long since I've been invested in a story and part of that is due to your encouragements. <3

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.8k Synopsis: Things come to a head, as a tense argument breaks out in the Dragonpit. Jace reaches out to his mother for help.

Tag List: @rinisfruity14, @gaiaea, @rexorangecounty

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The next few days pass in a blur. Jace is embarrassed; you rejected him. But more than anything he is frustrated. You didn’t reject him because you don’t share the same feelings, you did so because there is not a chance for the two of you to be together. Jace can’t change the fact that he is a prince, and even if he wasn’t betrothed to Baela, you are still titleless.

The truth of what you said in the gardens settles within him. So few got to marry for love. But his intentions have still not changed. He will keep fighting for you, he will find a way to change the current situation.

He spends the next few days staying away from you, shielding his pride, and coming up with a plan.

When he arrives at his mother’s door, a few nights after the garden, he doesn’t even realize he has come there, until he is knocking on the door. He is let in right away, and he finds his mother dining alone, smiling at something Elinda says.

“Mother,” he says. He cannot remember the last time he came to his mother’s chambers like this, upset and unexpected. His mother looks up with a smile, at the sound of his voice, but it falls when she sees his face.

“Jace?” she asks, standing up, “What is it?”

“I request an audience with the queen,” he says, straightening his spine, hoping to emphasize the severity of his arrival. A hesitant smile breaks across his mother’s face, and she lets out a chuckle.

“What is this?” she asks.

“Please,” he says. Something in her face changes at his look. She gives a curt nod to the maids, and they scurry out of the room. Once they are gone, Rhaenyra leans against her dining table, looking at him with curious eyes.

“You have the floor, Jace,” she says. He takes a breath, giving himself one second before he throws his entire life into disarray.

“I want to end my betrothal with Baela,” he says.

Rhaeynra knows Jace completely. He is part of her, after all. Her first son, her rock in so many ways during the war. But sitting at the head of her table the next day, watching her son speak with Baela, she is seeing someone new.

Jace has had a hard life. He’s seen so much heartbreak – chief among them, the loss of his brother. But through it all, he has always been a prince. Strong when he needs to be, with a kind heart, and a devotion to duty. She has never known him to bock at responsibility, in fact, he often seeks out more. He is the example of a perfect prince, a perfect son.

She chides herself for not realizing sooner that something has changed with him.

She remembers vividly the day he came back from the North, so many years ago. Just that short trip had made him grow up so much. She had foolishly assumed it was only due to the loss of his brother, that had flung him into adulthood. But he had grown on that trip, excelled with the lords and ladies he met with, brokered deals for her, and apparently, had fallen in love.

There were thralls of guests at her table, but Rhaenyra didn’t pay them any mind. She barely even looked at Daemon next to her, or Joffrey on her right. All night, her eyes were on Jace, and his were on you.

Rhaenyra didn’t know much about you. You arrived in King’s Landing about two months back. When Jeyne Arryn had requested you to take ward here, Rhaenyra had thought little of it, so entrenched in the war. Even when you had arrived, she didn’t think much of it. There were so many faces coming and going in the Red Keep, you were just another one, albeit a beautiful one.

She knew that you were close with her younger boys, and Rhanea, too. She had seen Jace spending time with you, but she hadn’t noticed his feelings. She sees them now, though.

You are a beacon for Jace. Every move you make, whether it’s to laugh at your tablemates, or simply flicking your long hair over your shoulder, Jace’s eyes follow. And to Rhaenyra’s surprise, your eyes search for him just as often. A few times, your gazes collide, and a blush forms on your cheeks.

She thinks back to Jace’s words in her chambers. She had been completely blindsided. They had grown apart, now that he was older, and the war was over. They had begun to explore separate paths. But she thinks, even if they had been as close as they used to be, she still might have missedthe change.

“I want to end my betrothal to Baela,” he says. Rhaenyra looks at him, speechlessly, shaking her head to make sure she heard him correctly.

“What?” she asks.

“I want to end my betrothal.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“I have fallen in love,” he answers. She studies his face, as if she hasn’t seen him until now.

“With whom?” she asks quietly.

“Y/N Arryn.”

She believes him now. She had been worried, when he told her, that he was being compelled by lust. But watching him now, it was true love in his eyes. And beneath that, lay a sadness she knew all too well.

Rhaenyra wants him to have everything. He deserves everything. But he is a prince, and he has a duty to his country to marry well and produce noble heirs.

If it had been another highborn lady he was betrothed to, the choice might have been easier. But this was Baela. Rhaenyra loves her, and she knows Jace does, too. Just – not in the way he feels for you.

“What would we tell Baela?” she asks.

“I- I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “But it’s killing me, not to be with Y/N.” Rhaenyra frowns at her son, cupping his cheek gently with her hand.

“I made a promise to Rhaenys years ago, that I would wed our families together.”

“I know,” Jace says, his voice hollow.

She searchs his face for a long moment. She wants to tell him no. There is no way it would work out, but he had already seen so much heartbreak in his life. And she knew the pain of an arranged marriage.

So, she hadn’t told him no. She told him she had to think about it. But she saw, it wasn’t going to be an easy answer, either way.

The next morning, Jace finds you reading in a corner of the castle, alone. It is the first morning you’ve spent in so long without Rhaena at your side, talking over suitors, or meeting with those suitors themselves.

Seeing Jace, at first, makes you blush, remembering the night in the garden. But then you settle when you realize how much you’ve missed him. He has become one of your closest friends here, regardless of the feelings you have grown for him, and not seeing him the last few days had hurt.

“Good morning, My Prince,” you say as he sits across from you.

“No one is here,” he says with a frown, “You can call me Jace.”

“Why are you up so early, Jace?” you ask. He gives you a soft smile and sighs, hopefully letting out the tension in his shoulders.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I might see Vermax, go for a ride,” he says.

“Is it tiring to ride a dragon?” you ask.

“It can be, I suppose. Although Vermax is gentle, when he wants to be.” His eyes flick to yours, and for some reason, you get the sense you aren’t just talking about his dragon anymore.

“It’s hard to imagine a creature of that size being gentle,” you say, closing your book.

“You should come see for yourself,” he says simply.

“What?”

“Come with me to the dragon pit. I’m sure Vermax would love to meet you,” he says with a smile.

“I don’t desire being burnt alive,” you say quietly, leaning in conspiratorially. Jace laughs softly, the dimple in his cheek prominent.

“Vermax would never hurt you if you’re with me,” he says. “I promise.”

“Well, I did come to King’s Landing to further my education. Feels wrong to come all this way and not see its dragons up close.”

The entire walk down to the pit, you are anxious. Your heart thuds and your breathing is shallow. You are starting to regret your agreement in coming down when Jace grabs your hand for one second and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re safe, Y/N,” he says as he guides you into the entrance of the Dragonpit. The look in his eyes makes it easier to believe him.

The pit is dark, even at the first light of morning. The temperature is at least ten degrees warmer, and there are sounds you can’t begin to distinguish coming from somewhere deep. Jace leads you to a long platform that looks over a slope. Glancing down at it, you see the tread of giant clawed feet. You take in a quivering breath as Jace greets one of the dragon handlers and requests that Vermax be brought out.

“Doing alright?” he asks, coming to your side.

“Yes,” you say, in an unconvincing manner.

“Vermax is on the smaller size,” he says lowly, “Although I wouldn’t repeat that to him.”

“Even small dragons are massive,” you say. Jace looks at you with a smile, opening his mouth to say something, when you hear a sound coming from the dark entrance to the pit. You move behind Jace out of instinct, as a very large green dragon walks towards you. Jace laughs to himself.

“You’re alright,” he says softly as the beast comes to a stop. Vermax turns his attention to Jace and lets out a breath of steam. You grasp onto Jace’s shoulders, momentarily terrified.

“Hello to you, too,” Jace says with a laugh. You sigh when you realize the steam must have been a sign of affection.

Vermax moves his massive head closer to the two of you, close enough that Jace can pat his snout. You want to shrink behind Jace, want to run, but you know that quick movements around a dragon are not wise.

With his other hand, Jace reaches behind himself, and grabs hold of yours. He doesn’t let it go.

“Do you want to say hello?” he asks, and you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or the dragon. Vermax’s eyes look to you then, and a shiver of fear races over you. “I promise, he’s scarier than he looks.” Vermax chuffs in response to Jace.

Slowly, you move to Jace’s side, dropping his hand for only a moment to switch which one you’re holding. You give yourself a moment to relax before meeting Vermax’s eyeline.

“Okay, now slowly raise out your hand,” he says. You do as he says, your limb shaking at the movement. Vermax’s snout, which is a good five times larger than your hand, sniffs at the palm. You wait with bated breath, until he nudges against it, and lets you rest your hand on him. You let out a sigh, relaxing as Jace smiles.

Now that you’re this close and settled, you realize that Vermax isn’t entirely green. There are spikes of orange-red that run down his neck. The contrast is striking.

“Oh,” you say with a sigh, “He is beautiful.”

“I’m in love with you,” Jace says in response. You whip your head to him so quickly, something in Vermax’s demeanor changes. Jace tenses and puts out a hand to the creature, at the same moment, pulling you back a step. It’s only a second, and then Vermax eases. Jace turns back to you and reads your wide, sad eyes.

“Whatever you’re going to say,” he says, “Don’t. It’s going to hurt me, and Vermax won’t like that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you say, whisper soft. Jace shrugs.

“I don’t either.”

“We talked about this in the garden, it’s not something—” You stop when Vermax shifts again. Another breath of steam washes over the two of you, but this one somehow feels warmer, deadlier. Jace sweeps you behind him, holding you close to his back.

“Y/N is our friend,” he says to the beast, his words firm. “Our friend,” he says, and this time, chances a glance back at you at the word, friend.

“Maybe I should go,” you say. You realize you are still holding onto him, and then how much you don’t want to let go.

“He’ll settle,” Jace says, his hand covering yours, resting on his shoulder.

“Yes, but will I?” you ask, making him let out a tut of laughter.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a moment,” he says to Vermax. The dragon trills in response. Jace takes your hand and guides you back towards the Keep. “Don’t worry, everyone feels like this when they meet a dragon for the first time.”

“He really is beautiful,” you say, “In the most terrifying way possible.”

“Vermax is well tempered,” he says, “Be grateful you never saw Vhagar.”

“The stories were horrifying enough,” you say as you come to a stop outside the door to the castle. Your hand is still in Jace’s, the Dragonpit far behind you. You drop it, trying to do so indiscreetly, but Jace notices the absence and sighs.

“You were going to kiss me, you know. Back in your chambers,” he says. You stutter over a response, shaking your head in disbelief.

“There was one moment, yes,” you say, “But then I came to my senses.”

“No, Brigitta walked in,” he says, stepping closer to you. “That’s why you didn’t. And now, you can't even hold my hand.” He gestures around the empty space. “No one else is here!” he shouts. Below, Vermax calls out in response.

“You don’t get it,” you say softly, trying to keep your frustrations at bay.

“What don’t I get?” he asks.

“Do you know what I risk, just being alone with you? You are our crown prince, Jace, there is very little you can do to damage your reputation. If one person gets the wrong impression about us, if we give in to this feeling—” You stop when he moves closer still, his eyes alighting.

“I would be ruined,” you say. “It wouldn’t matter that you are the prince. I would be tainted goods.” He snarls at the description.

“Y/N,” he starts, but you reach for his hand, stopping him.

“Jace,” you say breathlessly. “I wish there was a way but—”

“What if there was?”

“There’s not.”

“I asked my mother to end my engagement.”

“You what?!” you ask much too loudly, stepping back from him.

“I assumed you’d be pleased,” he says, hurt etched into his features.

“What did she say?”

“She is considering it,” he says. You sigh, leaning against the rocky cave wall. “There are a lot of moving pieces.”

“Of course there are. You and your family just went through so much grief to assure your mother’s claim to the throne. Why risk any of it again?”

“Because I love you,” he says plainly.

“We shouldn’t even be discussing this. We need to forget this; you need to forget me.”

“You act like it is so easy,” he says, approaching you again, “Tell me, have I confused your feelings for my own?”

“No,” you say quietly. “It’s not easy, at all. But what makes it harder is the fact that you keep bringing it up. You keep giving me hope,” you say, meeting his eyes. His are wide and nearly pull you in with the affection you find there.

“But there is hope.”

“Your mother is not going to cut Baela out like that,” you say, “And even if she did, I am no queen.” He looks at you sadly, like he wants to argue.

“You would make a good queen, Y/N,” he says delicately. You scoff. “Don’t you think I’ll be a good king?” he asks.

“Of course I do.”

“Then you know that I wouldn’t make the wrong woman queen.” He moves closer, taking your hands in his. He studies the way your hands fit into his, before speaking. “But even if my mother doesn’t agree, who is to say we have to be married? That we have to fight our feelings?”

“You’re suggesting I become your whore,” you say, face paling as you pull away from him.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says, reaching for your hand. You stay just out of his reach. “You would be taken care of—”

“Think of what you are saying,” you spit, “I would be an outcast. I would be your whore, and Baela your lady wife. Any children I bore you would be bastards. Is that what you want?” you ask. You think there might be tears forming in his eyes.

“Of course not,” he says firmly.

“As much as I wish things could be different, Jace, I just don’t foresee them changing. But you wound me, every time you get my hopes up.”

“You are not the only injured party, Y/N” he says. “What would you have me do?”

“Let me find someone else,” you say quietly. “Let me do what I came here to do and then I’ll be gone.”

“And I’ll just have to watch you with someone else?” he asks in disgust.

“Is that not what you just suggested I do with Baela?” you ask. He groans, gripping the railing along the walkway tightly.

“So, let’s say I agree to let you find someone else.”

“Let me?” you ask incredulously.

“That I stop fighting for you,” he corrects with a roll of his eyes, facing you again. “What if my mother changes her mind?”

“She won’t.”

“What if she does?”

“By then, it won’t matter to you anymore!” you exclaim.

“What?” he asks, brow furrowing.

“These feelings will die, if we let them. You’ve had this crush for so long, you think that our story must end with us together, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Y/N,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Let’s just call this what it is – an attraction that we danced around for too long.”

“Do you think me so foolhardy? That I would confuse lust with love?” he asks, taking your face in his hands, so you can’t turn away from him. “I am not that boy you met in the Vale years ago.”

“I know,” you say, putting your hands around his wrists.

“I have laid with women before.”

“Jace.”

“I have even thought I was in love,’ he says. “But never, did I feel anything close to this.” You close your eyes with a sigh, leaning into his palm. His thumb brushes your cheek as he frowns at you. You are speechless. You believe him, want to believe that his hopes can come true, too, but the logical part inside of you is more insistent than your heart.

“I just—” you start, sighing when his face falls. “Jace,” you say smally. He pulls away from you, retreating. “I think we need some time apart, to figure things out.” You are certain there are tears in his eyes now. He bites the inside of his lip and nods.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be,” he says.

“Jace,” you say, “We have to try.”

“Okay,” he says with a shrug. He looks so broken, you don’t want to leave him there, but you know there is nothing you can say right now to make him whole. You slip out the entrance, and it’s not until you get to your chambers that you let your own tears fall.

You are filled with so much anger. Anger at your father for fucking up your life in the first place. Anger at Lord Yorbert for arranging your initial betrothal. Anger that Lord Blacktyde left you so cautious about your next match. And anger that no matter how much you know you need to stay away from Jace, you can’t seem to.

You think you know the reason why, but you aren’t ready to face it yet.

Jace spends most of the day flying. The fresh air and altitude seem to clear his head a little. The moment in the Dragonpit never fully leaves his mind. He wants to do what you ask, because of the pain on your face, the pain he could practically feel himself.

But he loves you and doesn’t want to be apart from you. He thinks he might go see his mother when he lands, plea to her again. He needs advice at least on how to navigate this next bit.

When he gets to the Dragonpit, though, his mother is already waiting for him. He dismounts and moves hurriedly towards her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, breathlessly.

“There is trouble in the Iron Islands,” she says. “It seems skirmishes have been breaking out since my ascendence.”

“Ser Tyland?”

“He’s there now, fighting for what he claims is Lannister territory.”

“You want me to go lend our assistance?” he asks. She searches his face, a sad smile on her own.

“It will be dangerous.”

“I assume so,” he jokes, making her laugh to herself. “I’ll be careful,” he adds.

“I know you will.”

“I’ll leave tonight,” he says, “There’s just something I need to do first.” She examines his eyes, like she knows what he has to do, but she doesn’t argue. She just nods and leans in to kiss his forehead.

“Thank you, Jace.”

Night has fallen over the keep, and it is improper for him to go to your chambers this late, but he wants to see you before he goes. He must. The hallway is empty, save for one guard posted at your door.

“Your Highness,” he says, standing up straight. Jace knocks on the door and your maid, Brigitta, comes to answer it a full two minutes later. She does not look surprised to see him.

“Your Highness,” she says in greeting, curtseying as the door shuts behind her.

“I need to speak with Y/N,” he says. The color drains from Brigitta’s face.

“I’m sorry, My Prince, Lady Y/N does not wish to see you,” she says, whisper soft. Embarrassment floods his cheeks at the uncomfortable looks the guard and Brigitta give him. He isn’t sure why he is shocked at this answer, you had said that you needed space.

For one horrible second, he thinks about ignoring your request and ordering his way into the room. But he knows that would just make you angry.

“Very well,” he says with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Brigitta says again.

“Don’t be. Can I request a favor?”

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction

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sorryimananti-romantic · 8 months ago

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teacher!mingi x teacher!reader

summer camp/school trip au

word count: 7.8k

genre: fluffy stuff, just tooth rotting fluff for once

synopsis: when you suggest the idea of a one week trip to give the seniors a little break before their exams, you find yourself paired with mingi as the teachers in charge of your group of students, to your surprise and satisfaction. you've had your eye on him for quite a while- but so has mingi. he proves that it isn't too late for a highschool sweetheart - him.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (we formally salute all fluff writers bc this shit was tough)

when you heard you were accepted as a part of the crew who would be accompanying students on a one week road trip

not only were you beyond relieved because you needed a break so bad

but you were also way too curious about who else made it into the crew

it hadn’t been long since you started teaching at eden high school

but it was the quickest you found your place as an english teacher

it was surprising how well you got along with the staff here considering your not-so-excellent experience at your previous school

and the students here were just students, yes, just like everywhere but

you were pretty sure this was the most adored you had been

perhaps because you were in charge of the seniors who really needed someone like you- a person they could confide their problems and concerns in

a person who would offer solutions instead of telling them that it was just a fleeting worry

a person who would notice when they were beyond exhausted with the pressure of being, well, a senior

you remember how hard it was when it was your time and you wouldn’t want your students to go through the same thing

which was why you once suggested to mr. kim that perhaps the students would appreciate a trip

it was just a casual observation you had made and when mr. kim said ‘perhaps they really need it’, you weren’t sure if he was being serious

but turns out that he was, and the preparations began

not all the teachers could join but you had to be a part of it, mr. kim said, since you suggested it in the first place

you got so busy with assuring the students that they would have fun and they had nothing to worry about

talking to their parents in case they were being reluctant to send their kid, thinking it was a waste of time

convincing the students who were taking their studies way too seriously that they needed this- they really didn’t want to be burned out when exams would be near

that it slipped your mind- another suggestion for mr. kim to take mr. song along

mr. song mingi- the history teacher- the one who made history quite fun to learn

you had specifically planned with the staff- including him- to visit a few historical sights on the road-trip

however, he wasn’t the only history teacher here so you weren’t sure if he would be tagging along

and you never got the chance to ask him

(or even if you did, you were too shy)

but the day finally came

way too early in the morning when even the sun was asleep, you were standing by the bus counting the heads

almost all of your students made it- it was a bummer that some couldn’t but you promised to take them out for dinner after you were back

it was the least you could do for them

the girls were all over you, finding your casual style pretty intriguing

they had only ever seen you in professional clothing, tied hair and reading glasses on the bridge of your nose

so with your hair down, shades hanging by the neckline of your light blue sundress

the girls were pleased, yes, but the boys couldn’t help but share the sentiment too

“miss y/n, you should wear dresses more often!”

“light blue is your colour!”

“your hair looks so good-”

“come on now,” a familiar voice boomed and if you thought the flood of compliments from your students was making you smile

the smile changed into a grin, almost a giggle when you turned to the source

the source being none other than song mingi- in a loose sleeveless white shirt with a denim outerwear and matching jeans

song mingi may be a ‘boring history teacher’ like you sometimes teased him

but that man has got impeccable style

“stop flattering poor miss y/n and find your seats, come on!”

the students laughed but obeyed and the class pres started the roll call

and you felt a little somersault in your stomach when you locked eyes with mingi

“you made it”

he grinned back. “did you think i wouldn’t?”

“i was hoping you would, actually.”

and that took mingi off guard

you weren’t always forward with what you said unlike him and he found you a bit hard to read sometimes

and oftentimes, you surprised him with your actions or your words, just like you did now

but mingi knew when to make something out of an opportunity

“well, you’re stuck being paired with the boring old history teacher. hope you don’t mind.”

“i never called you old, though,” you told him, smiling to yourself before following the guard’s orders and getting on the bus

mingi, of course, sat next to you, the only seat available

and you marvelled at the turn of events

because how long had you wished for some sort of proximity to happen?

it wasn’t easy to be alone in the school with him- not that you wanted to do anything alone with him, but

sometimes, you thought, it would have been nice if you got one-to-one interaction with him that wasn’t related to grading each other’s papers

or sharing pointers about the next exam

sometimes, he would find you alone with your head in your hands

and he would decide not to disturb you and leave a little something for you near your desk for you to spot if you, well, got your head out of your hands

a candy or a ‘cheer up!’ note

you would also find him alone in some classroom sometimes

you noticed he preferred to be alone at times so you knew to look in his classroom first instead of the staff room

he would be so absorbed in whatever he was doing

that you would simply watch him until he felt your gaze burning into his skin

and then you would pretend to have been passing by

and of course you ‘accidentally’ bought two of whatever you were going to snack on

mingi would offer you to join him but most of the times, you let him be

but sometimes, if the staff room was too noisy, you would join him

and the two of you would sit at opposite ends of the classroom doing your own work

(while secretly stealing glances but nobody needed to know that)

so now that you finally got to be alone with him

ignoring the twenty-some noisy children in the back- they could be considered background noise

you couldn’t help but play with your fingers

the bus started and mingi initiated conversation

telling you who was paired with who

each bus had at least one male and one female teacher and only two out of the four buses had two teachers

the other being jongho and gyeoul

“ah, gyeoul is going to forget she’s a teacher. i bet she’ll be sitting with the students playing uno with them.”

“jongho is going to drive the kids away with his dad jokes,” mingi tsk-ed. “but guess the most interesting pairing?”

us?

“hongjoong, wooyoung and yuqi.”

“no way!” you actually laughed out loud this time. “hongjoong’s going to regret ever planning this trip.”

“you bet,” he scoffed. “seonghwa, mina and eunha are in the other bus.”

“all the calm ones?”

“i switched with seonghwa, actually,” he admitted and you raised a brow. “seonghwa gets along with them. i get along with you. we might as well have a good time too, now that we’re here, right?”

right.

he switched to be with you

“you sure you won’t regret that decision?”

you didn’t expect his eyes to travel all over your face and his lips to curve into a smirk

“i’m sure.”

and that was your cue to check on your students

you took a round, making sure everyone was comfortable and told them all to just take a nap

there wasn’t anything interesting going to happen for a good few hours

lucky for you, the kids were sleepy

so the bus fell quiet, the driver assuring you that you both could relax too- there was another driver to keep him company anyway

so you asked mingi if he was sleepy

“not yet. are you?”

“not yet,” you confirmed.

“are you comfortable? do you need anything?”

you relaxed back, shoulder to shoulder with mingi, a small blanket on your lap. “i’m good. do you need anything?”

“not for now, nope,” he took a deep breath. “how long has it been since your last trip?”

and that was how you found yourself actually relaxing and talking to him

you told him your last trip was a while ago with your family

you didn’t want to count school trips but you told him about that too

and he told you about his experiences

just like that, you got to know each other a little better

details you wouldn’t have shared otherwise

from random facts about each other:

“i used to love reading. i became an english teacher because i would consume books like nothing else. but i haven’t read a new book in about a year.”

“i hated the idea of being a history major until one of my professors started using storytelling as a way to get us to learn about the world. i still remember the stories he’d make up.”

to gossip:

“i think i saw wooyoung checking out eunha earlier”

“don’t you think mina’s got a thing for seonghwa?”

somewhere between all of that, you got too sleepy to continue talking

you didn’t realise when you dozed off but when you woke up with a weight on your side

your heart almost stopped when you realised it was mingi resting his head against your shoulder

and quite comfortably at that

you realised you may have been resting your face on his head too

and the current position with your neck upright was sending a painful wave down your shoulder

so you decided to give in, checking the time- you could sleep for another hour

you went back to resting your face on top of his head, the bubbly smell of his shampoo lulling you right back to sleep

you woke up when you felt the bus stop and when you groggily lifted your head

you realised that mingi had been awake for quite some while, using his phone

but he never moved because you were using his head as a pillow

“oh my god,” you said, hiding your face in your hands so he wouldn’t see your flaming cheeks. “i’m sorry, i didn’t realise-”

“it’s okay,” mingi chuckled, waving his hand in dismissal. “i’m to blame too.”

you looked at him to make sure it was really okay and when he said, “your snores are cute” you chucked your blanket at him and looked around

you were making a quick stop at a rest area

you woke the kids up and told them now was the time to get snacks or use the toilet

you met up with the teachers to have coffee, everyone in good spirits having woken up from their naps

the wind already felt different and fresh now that you were a few hundred miles away from the city

with newfound energy, you all got back into your buses and that was when the fun started-

for the kids.

it was suddenly too lively and noisy, loud music blasted in the bus and a few kids showing off their dance moves, the rest cheering them on

you clapped along, reminiscing about your own highschool time

soon, you reached the first town on your list- a town known for its historical ruins

though the kids had been complaining about visiting ruins- what’s there to learn about ruins?

you assured them the trip would only get better and you kept the ‘boring’ sites for the first few days

because you wanted to end the trip on a cheerful note- the beach

as the kids crowded and started following the teachers, you took note of their complaints and unsatisfied grunts

and though panic started bubbling in your heart- maybe you shouldn’t have put this town on the list? all your anxieties faded away when a certain history teacher stepped in to save the day

“alright, remember when i told you guys about the spirit of the exiled princess that haunts a certain town? that people spot in the forest sometimes?”

“is the spirit pretty?” a boy asked, earning a bunch of snickers from the crowd

but the way mingi smirked made them all shut up

“i guess you’ll find out soon.”

you winced when the kids burst into a chorus of cheers or frightened screams and the teachers shared a good laugh at how mingi handled this

“remember- if you find a four-leaf clover, the spirit might spare you!”

and as mingi guided them along the town, sharing fun facts about the sites, the kids kept their eyes trained on the ground in chances of finding the lucky leaf

really, it was worse than a needle in a haystack

after visiting a few sites, you found yourselves in the heart of the town, at a food street

all the class presidents were instructed to make sure the kids stay in sight and that they were free to go eat whatever they wanted

the kids were simply famished and just wanted those corn dogs and fish cakes

the staff took a table in the centre and you were glad that it was a weekday today- apart from a few people, you were the only ones here

you all got some noodles and double checked on your accommodations- it was supposed to rain so you wanted to check-in before dark

just like that, it was time to go find shelter

you stuck with your group of students like every other teacher

and when you reached the lodge, you made sure everyone went to their rooms before finding your own that you were to share with the female staff

the rest of the girls were already there, removing their makeup and stretching. you smiled as you followed suit

“this trip is exactly what i needed,” yuqi slumped down on the mattress as she said. “even though today was a bit boring, the weather makes up for it.”

“well, the night isn’t over yet,” gyeoul smiled mischievously. “it doesn’t have to end on a boring note.”

she came up with the genius idea of having drinks in the backyard with the boys

mina sighed in disappointment because if gyeoul had told her earlier, she wouldn’t have removed her makeup so soon

“you’re pretty anyway,” eunha told her, grabbing her hand and dragging her out

you told them you would join after a few minutes and changed into your pjs like the rest

when you went to the backyard, you let out a surprised laugh

because the boys had already prepared drinks for all of you before gyeoul

“great minds think alike” hongjoong said

“rich coming from you because all it takes is one drink and it’s game over for you,” wooyoung said and seonghwa’s laughter boomed in the air

“you’re no good either, seonghwa!” mingi pointed at the teacher, clicking his glass with wooyoung’s and sharing a shot

you smiled to yourself- it looked like you were going to make really good memories on this trip

you took a seat between the noisy ones- wooyoung and yuqi- and immediately started regretting it

because not only were the two of them were making you drink a lot, ensuring a good hangover

but they also kept teasing everyone (including you) and you thought they were too loud

not that you weren’t having fun

you surprised everyone by joining them after a few drinks, though you couldn’t defend yourself like the two did

what a team they made

of all the people, mingi noticed that perhaps… you needed to switch seats

or the environment- he didn’t want you to get too drunk

so when he subtly motioned for you to follow him, you nodded in answer

he told the drunk lot he would get more drinks

as if there weren’t a bunch of unopened bottles on the ground

but thankfully they were too busy roasting each other to notice

and then you made the excuse of wanting to go to the toilet and left

you walked inside the hall, trying to figure out exactly where mingi had gone

you almost walked past him in the dark corridor and if mingi hadn’t grabbed your arm, you wouldn’t have known

you turned towards him, eyes wide in surprise

he immediately let go of you, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable

“wanna go see the stars?”

when he said that, you didn’t realise it would become a nighttime ritual for the two of you

because away from the city, you could see so many stars

that drunken night, you watched the stars with him in silence

too afraid to speak lest he figure out the desires within your heart

the desire to be with him, to get to know him more, to simply talk to him

but that comfortable silence definitely created a shift in your dynamics.

you didn’t travel much the next day, just explored the surroundings and made a trip to the top of the hill

taking as many photos as you wanted

capturing candids of the students and the teachers to share with them later

watching in fascination as some of the kids caught bugs quite easily

thanking the girls who made flower bracelets for all of you

and when you caught mingi smiling at the bracelet on his wrist, you showed off yours

“the boring old history teacher received a gift?” you teased

“you have to admit that they’re creative,” he laughed. “look- the boys want them too.”

the boys, in fact, wanted them. they were all queued up waiting for the girls to give them all a bracelet- or a ring

“oh, when we go back, there are gonna be so many campus couples,” eunha joined the two of you to watch the sight

really, it was pretty obvious who liked who- they wanted to receive the flowers from the person they liked

and the girls wanted to give the flowers to the person they liked

you wondered if they were so obvious… were you too?

because it was common knowledge that wooyoung liked eunha- even right now, you caught him stealing glances at her

and if you looked behind you, mina was listening to seonghwa quite intently while he rambled on about something

hongjoong, who was right there, seemed the least interested

so when you looked up at mingi, you caught him staring at you and your heart skipped a beat

“you’ve got a little something on your head- a petal.”

“where?” you ran your fingers through your hair where he pointed but it seemed like you didn’t get it

and mingi decided to take the matter into his own hands and leaned down a bit to pick the petal from near your ear

and just like that, time stopped for a few seconds

maybe you should stop really stop reading novels

even though you haven’t read one in about a year

but just like in the books, the length of the duration- despite being only a matter of a few seconds- seemed too long

as you met his eyes, the golden rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his skin

and making his dark orbs more prominent

you wished he was wearing shades right now so you wouldn’t be entranced by the way his eyes scanned your face

but you blinked, and the moment was over- he drew away and tossed the petal on the ground, smiling awkwardly

and you were so glad jongho called you at that moment, having spotted a kitten and knowing how much you liked cats

you got busy with him, burying that moment aside for the time being

that night, you came back to the same lodge

you didn’t drink this time, having learned your lesson from how bad the hangover was in the morning

but you played a few games of uno and perhaps… this was noisier than last night

because there were quite a few sneaky players in this game

gyeoul and jongho- the evil duo of the school

“have some shame,” wooyoung tsk-ed at gyeoul who grinned at jongho- only you seemed to have noticed the look they shared

the look of an underlying scheme

you were sometimes surprised by how well they got along despite gyeoul being a few years older than all of you, and jongho being the youngest teacher in the school

like attracts like, apparently. evil attracts evil

you noticed jongho mouth a number at gyeoul and you realised what was going on

they either took a peek at the other teacher’s cards since there wasn’t much space here to hide your cards properly

or when jongho had shuffled the cards… he had pulled some trick at that time

either way, you weren’t going to let the two of them win- at least not them

so you looked at mingi who was right in front of you, and you subtly let him know that the two were at it again

he stifled a smile, whispering ‘i got this’

and the tables turned when within a few minutes, he somehow tricked gyeoul into playing her wild cards but completely destroyed her

he did not win the game but to you, he was the winner

and you told him that when he asked if you wanted to watch the stars a bit tonight too before sleeping

he laughed loudly at that, almost getting shy

and that night, you talked about the most random stuff. again.

it was like you could never run out of things to talk about

after all, there was so much to talk about

the work tea

recent developments- eunha was noticing wooyoung back and seonghwa was still an airhead

you thought seonghwa was just equally nice to everyone so it would be hard to figure out if he looked at mina differently

some students tea- one of the close-knit group of friends had a falling out during the trip

mingi was sure they would figure it out on their own

but you were sure one of them would come to you or wooyoung for advice

you both were the unofficial counsellors in your school

“why wooyoung?” mingi wondered. “why not me?”

“because you, mr. song, seem a tad bit intimidating at times.”

the puppy eyes of disbelief he made in response proved you wrong

“who? me?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the way he was looking at you

“sometimes, yes.”

“more than wooyoung?”

“wooyoung is a literal ball of sunshine though…”

mingi turned towards you, stepping closer

“do i seem intimidating to you too?”

though it was an innocent question

it did nothing to help the butterflies in your stomach

it took everything in you to shake your head no

because he felt intimidating sometimes, that was true

and if it wasn’t for his warm personality

you might not have ever interacted properly with him

mingi laughed to himself, perhaps knowing that you might be lying

and it fell silent all of a sudden

just the sound of the crickets and the rustling of the leaves

and the loud sound of your thoughts

the next two days were a blur

and you thought that when you would go back home, you would have to look at all the photos you took

to ingrain these memories in your brain

because the days were packed travelling and having fun

the bus rides were fun and now it was mr. song who showed his dance moves to the students

he was surprisingly very good- in fact- too good

you wondered if that was why he felt so chill- because he just had this chill groove to him

which showed a lot in his dance moves when he freestyled

you had to physically go and calm the girls after this because

suddenly they were seeing the boring old history teacher in a new light

you folded your arms when mingi made his way back, still laughing at the way the girls cheered for him and the boys clapped

he asked you if you liked what you saw

and that made you smack his arm and turn your focus out of the window to hide your blush admire the scenery

now it was mostly visiting a few spots such as more historical sites and shopping points

and during the day, you were usually with the girls so you could shop together

you tried the local delicacies which was a new experience for most of the people here

and visited an apple farm to help the farmers as well

since it was a packed two days, the teachers didn’t really play more uno or drink

though all of you would gather, this time in the common room, to plan what was next

but both of these nights, mingi offered you the same thing-

wanna see the stars?

you learned more about him and he about you

you learned that he has always loved to dance

and he loves karaokes- especially drunk karaokes

he learned more about your previous school experience

how they overworked you so much

combined with gaslighting, you thought it was normal and you were just lacking

he assured you that you made a good decision quitting

and commended you for taking the big step- after all, it must have been daunting

though he did not have a similar experience, he could understand you

just like that, you learned the little things about each other

and now that the trip was almost over, you told mingi that you would like to take a walk around while you watched the stars

while walking, you were suddenly reminded of the time the staff went out for dinner once

and everyone was at least a bit tipsy if not drunk

when it was time to wrap up and mingi saw that you meant to walk home

he offered to accompany you

and that was only a few months after you started teaching so you weren’t very familiar with all the teachers

though you were pretty sure they were all very nice

you told mingi that he was too drunk but he insisted anyway

and you let him walk you to your neighbourhood which wasn’t far from there

now, almost two years later, you were both taking a walk again and it was oddly reminiscent of that time

and it seemed like mingi was thinking the same when he asked you if you remembered when he first walked you home

“i never told you but i didn’t remember for a while,” he confessed, the rustling of the leaves under your steps growing louder as you stepped on the autumn leaves

you weren’t surprised, if you were honest

“it’s okay. you didn’t do anything stupid. except make crow noises, but that’s okay.”

mingi covered his face in his hands as he laughed and you smiled

“i may or may not have been trying to impress you.”

“really? it was a success. i haven’t heard many people pull off crow noises that well.”

when mingi made a face at that, you lightly punched his arm

“it really is okay. but i have one little favour to ask…”

mingi knew what was coming before you said it

and you both walked a bit further from the hotel

making sure no one was around

before mingi turned away from you and made the loudest caws

and this time, you laughed heartily

you were so absorbed in your little bubble that when you heard the sound of a door opening

probably the door of the nearest lodge who heard strange sounds in the middle of the night

you grabbed mingi’s hand instinctively and started running away from the source of the sound

the two of you couldn’t stop laughing, even as you ran

so much that it made it harder to run, actually

he took the lead and guided you to the benches to catch your breaths

and it was only after a couple of minutes when your breathing returned to normal

and the adrenaline started to wear off

that you realised the two of you were still holding hands

maybe because the muscles of your arm tensed at the sudden realisation that mingi finally noticed your joined hands

but when he glanced at you and found the corners of your lips curved in a small smile at the sight

he squeezed your hand instead of letting it go

and you looked up at him to see him shyly smiling

“what?” you asked

you couldn’t help it- you needed to know what he was thinking

“nothing, y/n,” he shook his head though he was unable to stifle his smile

“it’s not nothing,” you insisted. “why are you trying so hard not to smile?”

“it’s because i quite like this,” he finally admitted, raising your joined hands and you noticed how small your hand was in his, almost swallowed in his grip

for once, you were the one who was at a loss for words

“did i say something wrong?” mingi asked

and you wished he wasn’t so straightforward

but perhaps, it was for the better

and you thought the timing felt right too

the sky looked beautiful

the air felt like it was enveloping you in its embrace

the moon beautifully lit his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features

yet casting such a soft, welcoming glow

you shook your head, caressing the skin of his hand with your thumb in answer

there was no need for words anymore- the feelings were reciprocated, and you both could feel that

mingi made a daring move when he raised your joined hands in the air again

you wondered what he was up to now

but the last thing you expected was for him to kiss the back of your hand

it was such an endearing action that you could not help but giggle

“can’t we stay like this even when we go back home?”

an offer. a question. a confession. it was all of that and more

“i don’t think you can see many stars in the city though.”

“i don’t think i would have to look for stars,” mingi said, looking right at you

that was enough

you smacked his arm. “that’s the cheesiest pick up line i’ve ever heard. you really are the boring old history teacher, mingi.”

you started to go back, folding your arms and still giggling especially when mingi laughed loudly, rushing after you

you tried to run but damn his long legs

he caught up to you, running backwards in front of you now

you pouted as you tried to cross him, but he just won’t let you

“you haven’t answered my questions.”

you paused. you really hadn’t, huh?

he stepped closer to you, trying to read your face for a hint of what was going on behind your eyes

and you thought it was time to finally follow your heart’s desires

and test the waters without any fear

you stepped closer, surprising him

you placed a hand on his shoulder and he wondered what you were about to do

he shut his eyes when you stood on your tiptoes, inches away from him

and you took a moment to drink in the sight

before you pecked his cheek, a giggle escaping your mouth

and this time, you ran for your life

because you didn’t think you could take anything else right now

especially because you had waited so long for some sort of a signal from him

though you wanted nothing more than to hug him and stay there for the rest of the night

you let him chase you and let him hold your hand again

when it was time to separate to go to your respective rooms

he patted your cheek, looking at you with such soft eyes that you melted

and you knew, in that moment

that you were absolutely done for

the travelling time for the next day was a bit longer

which meant you got to spend more time with mingi on the bus

and it was a little awkward at first, the both of you fumbling around like the very teenagers you were making fun of not too long ago

the very teenagers that were on the bus right now

and it took you both a while to stop fidgeting and do something other than awkwardly laugh

thankfully, one of the students came forward with some snacks to share

and thus began a discussion of which snacks were better and which were mid-tier

you both were so enthusiastic about this that the students joined as well

before you knew it, you reached the outskirts of the village you were going to stay in for the next two days

and you thought beautiful was an understatement

the sea was so bright that it looked like a sheet of clear crystals under the sun

the air smelt of salt and sand and you felt a sense of relief

and so did the rest of the passengers- you could hear the soft sighs of the students

this was why you planned the trip

so everyone could just relax at the seaside

there was nothing planned for the last two days- there were a few sites so the students could divide into groups according to where they wanted to go

and the teachers would divide and tag along accordingly

the next two days were all about having fun

no more historical sights, as the kids teased mingi

though mingi retorted with a poetic ‘history is everywhere’ that earned him a few grimaces

as soon as you reached the lodges by the beach, the kids all ran towards the sea with the teachers shouting concerningly

thankfully, there were a few lifeguards since it was a tourist destination

so all of you decided to relax a little too, while still keeping an eye on the kids

that day, you all simply enjoyed being on the beach

making sandcastles, playing volleyball, swimming and collecting shells and rocks

mingi was out with his sleeveless again, no jacket covering his arms this time

you had a tough time if you were honest

and so did mina who couldn’t stop sighing at the sight of seonghwa’s long wet hair matted to his face

you could kind of relate to her, though your eyes only followed mingi

and perhaps, you were as obvious as mina now

because a certain menace came to stand next to you

“was just curious why you keep grinning into the distance. but nope. you’re just watching that fool. also, maybe wipe the drool off your mouth.”

you glared at wooyoung

“when you wipe yours. do you want to know what eunha thinks about you?”

suddenly, he’s ready to bow in front of you if necessary and you laughed

you’re both just two lovesick birds at this point and decided to calm yourself by making some sandcastles

“i never realised you got the hots for mingi too,” wooyoung said while trying to place a shell on the top of the lopsided castle.

“what do you mean ‘too’?” you asked absently, more focused on making sure the whole thing wouldn’t collapse because of a shell

“he’s liked you for the longest time, y/n. you’ve just only noticed now.”

oh.

that can’t be true, can it?

“are you sure?”

“i mean, he literally watches the stars with you every night. why else would he do that? and only with you? i like watching stars too, he knows. never offered me now, did he?”

you snorted at that

it did make sense

plus, with the events of last night… he must like you a little, right?

you decided to confirm it tonight

this time, you were the one who asked to watch the stars with him

after dinner when you made sure all the kids were in their rooms

the whole staff went to watch the stars, actually

you couldn’t miss it here- the full moon was the cherry on the top

however, you noticed how wooyoung and eunha found a spot away from the rest

mina also managed to get seonghwa to follow him- and perhaps, you thought, he really did like mina

the rest were in their own bubble

and you grabbed mingi’s hand to lead him towards the big rock you had spotted earlier

where you could have a little privacy

not that you aimed to do anything, no

you just wanted him all to yourself

was it selfish of you? yes. absolutely. but did you care?

nope

did mingi care? he followed you willingly

this time, you were more touchy with each other

while you talked about how much you had missed the beach, his fingers trailed the curves of your hand absently

you brushed the sand off his cheekbone

and he scooted closer to you

“i don’t want to go back now,” you sighed happily

you really didn’t want to- it was too peaceful here

and you had never felt more content

“neither do i,” mingi said. “but at the same time… i do.”

“hmm… are you sick of watching the stars with me?”

mingi laughed at that

“i thought by now you knew that i never watched the stars.”

your heart did a few flips at his words and you glanced at him

he was right- he never really looked at the stars

he was always watching you

“would you like to see the stars when we go back?”

“every day, if i can?” he tucked your hair behind your ear as he said

“i really like you, y/n.”

god

it’s like you’re the high school student on a trip the way you’re feeling right now

you smiled, looking away and shyly responding

“i really like you too, mingi. i have, for a long time now.”

“how long?” the goofy mingi was back

“never answering that by the way,” you said, getting up and away from him. “you cannot extract that information out of me.”

“y/n!” he yelled your name in warning and you laughed as you tried to make a dash

but he was far too quick and he grabbed your wrist

you had to put your free hand over your mouth to keep your laugh from booming across the horizon

but you could not contain it when he pulled you in to his chest

you wasted no time wrapping your arms around his slim waist

and he curled in your hold, rocking you back and forth

“you’re too tall, by the way,” you said when you realised you were on your tiptoes and he was leaning down

he parted with a kiss on your cheek, pinching your nose afterwards

sending your brain into a spiral, turning you into mush

“you’re too cute.”

no.

you’re too insane because you want to kiss him right now

and you don’t know what took over you when you did just that- pecked his lips, surprising both of you

giggling when his eyes went a little wide

your grin almost faded when he didn’t respond

but before you could say or do something, he crashed his lips on yours

kissing you deeply, once before drawing away and making sure that it was okay

oh, it was more than okay

but he decided to keep things calm, kissing you slowly and testing the waters

it was perfect in every way, more than what you ever dreamed about

you just never expected this

you and mingi on this beautiful beach, the full moon shining on you two, the waves almost washing your feet

all the four-leaf clovers you found were worth it, it seemed

now that you were sort of official

you spent the next two days with each other

without any hesitation this time

the others barely noticed the difference and you realised that it was because perhaps, the two of you had always looked at each other that way

(or maybe a certain kim hongjoong told them to shut up and let you two enjoy)

but either way, the others let you two tag together when you accompanied the students into town

you went to the local shops and this time, you bought things for your friends and family just like the students

you all had bbq before coming back to the lodges

and that night, you gifted mingi a silly pair of sunglasses

round sunglasses with wide white rims

and when he wore them, you burst into a fit of giggles

“you look like willy wonka from charlie and the chocolate factory”

“do i?” mingi asked, unlocking his phone to check

“mingi wonka. mingi wonka, the amazing history teach~”

you were pretty sure your laughter was heard by everyone on the beach as he chased you

you decided to take refuge in the waves of the sea and started swimming away from him

but he was quick to follow

and once he caught you, wrapping his arms around your waist, you laughed shyly

“someone will see us!”

but when you turned in his arms

the moonlight illuminating his face but hiding his eyes due to the glasses he still had on

you tried taking them off his face but he grabbed your wrists

“yeah, keep them on,” you whispered. “they suit you.”

“i can’t tell if this is a joke or not,” he smiled a bit

“you just need a hat and a cane to go along with it-”

and before you knew it, mingi put his hand on top of your head and dunked you under the sea

you splashed water on him in revenge

and the two of you chased each other again until he finally caught you

and this time, you thought he really did look beautiful with the damp hair and the glasses

so you didn’t try to wriggle away from his grasp when he leaned in to kiss you

the last day, everyone decided to just laze around at the beach

the kids played in the water all day

and it was a bit cloudy so the heat was tolerable too

you wore a hat, resting your back against a rock

and whoever passed by would mess up your hat, annoying you

wooyoung decided to step in to guard you

but also for advice

“would it be too much if i cook and take eunha to a private spot for a little picnic?”

you shut the book you had been trying to read and turned your focus to wooyoung

“that sounds cute, actually. would she accompany you willingly?”

wooyoung smacked your arm and you snickered. “she gifted me my favourite perfume last night.”

“so?”

“how did she know?” wooyoung folded his arms. “i’ve never talked about which perfume i wear. no one knows, but she knew.”

this time, you let out a long ‘oh’ as you pondered

“you’re telling me she did her research?”

wooyoung nodded, very pleased

“do you know what her favourite food is?”

“that’s what i came to ask.”

you both did a little planning and wooyoung admitted that he had noticed a shift in your relationship with mingi too

you asked him if you were that obvious

and almost comically, you both looked towards seonghwa

“he’s hopeless,” wooyoung concluded

for some reason, mingi was very curious about what you two were talking about

(or maybe he just wanted you all to himself for the time being)

and he told you that intrusive thought that night

it was the last night of the trip and you would be leaving for home in the morning

so you told him that he better get used to the lack of proximity

because during school hours, it would be pretty packed especially now that exams were nearer

and after that, you both would have too much to work on

“will i be able to see you often then?”

“i mean…” you began. “what are we?”

mingi’s mouth formed an o shape as he realised

that you two hadn’t really talked about this

“shall i ask you out?”

“if i have to tell you that…” you scowled at him and he laughed

digging into his pocket to extract a small box

it was your mouth forming the o shape now

he opened the box to reveal a set of matching bracelets

a pretty little silver chain, very subtle, and just how you preferred

“will you go out with me?”

you made an impressed face, accepting the bracelet

“i didn’t know you were such a romantic”

“there are a lot of things you don’t know yet”

“i’m pretty sure i don’t need to know most of those things-”

mingi only laughed this time

that night came to be a memorable one

as the trip concluded and you got back to your daily routine

you found that it no longer felt mechanical

you started off with a smile on your face

even mondays felt exciting

because you could see mingi at school

you would eat lunch together everyday with the rest of the staff

but it was official now- you and mingi

and wooyoung and eunha

the latter was more unexpected, the staff revealed

and you were flustered to hear about how obvious the two of you had been

but it was okay

seonghwa finally noticed that mina acted differently only around him

and was left confused as he tried to figure out how he felt

hongjoong and yuqi were your new enemies

they made it their life’s mission to never let you couples have a peaceful moment

at least wooyoung could fight back

you and mingi were the type to let him bully you

and the students?

they thought they were being subtle when they tried to make the two of you cross each other at the same corridor

or when they casually told you things about each other, little updates

you caught on pretty quick but you let them be

though it was all fun and jokes

hongjoong told you a little secret later on

that mingi had specifically requested to come on this trip because of you

it was endearing

after school, mingi would walk you home every night

because that was the time you could catch up with each other in private

sometimes, you would stop by to have dinner or coffee

you met each other’s families and they instantly liked you

everything was perfect

everything was perfect, just like the waves had been on that beach

calm, playful but strong

just like your love for each other

and every night before you went to sleep

(if you were not sleeping beside mingi)

you would look at the grid on your wall

at the pictures of you and mingi on the beach

and the picture of him in those silly glasses that suited him so well

and if you were sleeping beside mingi?

well

you could just look at the real thing :D

976 notes · View notes

ybklix · 8 months ago

Text

stargirl

black hair felix my beloved, just felix my beloved₊˚⊹♡

★ pairing: idol!felix x fem!reader one shoot.

✦summary: After a fashion event in Paris, Felix decides to visit you at your apartment, you two are best friends, you have kissed before but you don't know how to take the next step even though you both want each other badly.

♡notes: 2022 felix in ysl event outfit.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / only 18+ / reader's pov / oral sex / unprotected sex / fingering / masturbation / foreplay / needy reader

word count: 6.1k

one shoot (masterlist)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ I had a vision A vision of my nails in the kitchen Scratching counter tops, I was screaming My back arched like a cat My position couldn't stop, you were hitting it.

I gently placed my fingers over my lips, removing the crumbs from that cookie bite I had just taken. Followed by several bites, I would occasionally run my tongue, while, standing in front of my kitchen island, I flipped through the pages of my previous month's Vogue magazine... I had to confess that I was a little nervous. My mind was all over the place and my stomach seemed to drop with every passing second... still, the cookie was sweet and delicious, I couldn't stop eating it.

The sudden message notification sound distracted my attempted attention from the magazine. My cellphone was right next to it, and that's when through the screen I managed to read his name, and a message telling me to open the door, that he was outside; once again my stomach dropped with nerves and my breathing was short. This used to happen to me when I really liked someone. I think I really like him.

I didn't bother grabbing my cellphone, I just nervously smoothed down my pajama shorts and ran for the door. I was so nervous, I knew he was coming, but I didn't expect it, inside a part of me was begging for him to say I'm getting tired, I think I'll get some sleep, see you tomorrow.... Only then maybe I would feel calmer.

I didn't take any more time to think and simply opened up, finding his slim complexion dressed all in black, in front of me. He smiled at me. I smiled back and let him in.

His scent reached me in his soft breeze as he passed, every passing second was killing me, I really didn't know how much longer I would have to survive like this.

Disappointed that our greeting was just a shy smile, I followed him with my eyes. I was tired of neither of us making the first move, it's not like we hadn't kissed before... I just felt like he had this thought that there wasn't enough trust yet, or maybe he thought we couldn't cross that line yet. Agh, if only he knew… it was what I was looking forward to the most. We had spent an excellent afternoon, touring the city, I took him to my favorite places, talked like I had never talked before, showed him every useless thing in my apartment, my favorite paintings, my favorite restaurant, I was near him for hours… and still, no little kiss. I closed the door after his entrance, he walked a few steps in the foyer and turned to me, looked me up and down, frowned and said:

“Oh sorry, were you going to sleep already?”

I felt my cheeks burn. Embarrassment took over me; the truth was that after a hot afternoon, I wanted to take a bath and make myself as comfortable as possible, but in a… sexy way, to tell the truth the bare shoulders and perfectly loose pajamas were quite cute, just right, why would I feel embarrassed… a part of me knew exactly what I was doing, however the me of the moment, standing in front of the man I liked, didn't have the slightest idea. In fact, I wanted to give the relaxed appearance, as if I didn't care so much in his presence, when in reality I spent hours fixing my hair knowing he was coming, I used concealer under my eyes and richened my lashes by placing a clear mascara, light liquid blush and my favorite perfume on my neck.

“No, I just wanted to be comfortable, although you know… it is a little late” I answered awkwardly, I didn't know how to keep a conversation and he knew that, “Do you want a drink?” I tried to make him comfortable.

“Sure.”

We went to the kitchen where, in two glasses, I served us wine, because I was nervous and didn't really know what I was doing.

“I drank it quite a lot today”, he said.

I looked at him, surprised that this might not be what he wanted to drink. He was sitting on the other side of the kitchen counter as he watched me pour the drink.

“But it's okay” he hastened to add when he saw my reaction, “Champagne, wine, people, basically it was all like that.”

I opened my mouth in amazement, I was just about to ask him how that designer campaign meeting had gone. I must admit, it was quite attractive to seet him at that kind of event.

“Really? And how did it go?” asked him and took a small sip from my glass. I walked around the table, to approach him and hand him the drink.

“Good. Sit here” he suddenly ordered, pointing to the chair next to him on his left side, then stared at me.

Where had that come from? It was so sudden and so… good, I really liked it. Hearing him order me in that voice, I wasn't at all upset. He knew perfectly well that I would do everything I could to push him away, no matter how much I wanted him to, I just couldn't. So I obeyed, and like a good friend about to overhear a friend's conversation, I sat down next to him. Our knees bumped, and he kept staring at me. Quickly realizing his tone, he cleared his throat and tried to take it back.

“Ahh, to talk more comfortable.” I smiled. I liked him too much, couldn't he see it?

We were facing each other. My breath was starting to hitch again, my heart was racing and it was enough just to see the beauty of his face.

At times like this, I pray for him to go away, only then I could breathe. “So, how was your night?”

I used a soft tone and tilted my head a bit to listen to him, just acting like everything is fine. Felix let out a sigh, frustrated, puffing out his cheeks.

“You know well I was nervous, but I enjoyed it, people were so kind” he laughed softly. “It was fun, a lot of people came to Hyunjin and I, they were nice, the atmosphere was good, I guess.”

“That's good to hear.” I saw him pass his gaze to my lips quickly, then quickly divert to the counter, where he captured the cookies on the container.

“From where?” he pointed them out.

“Oh, from the bakery nearby, didn't you see it when you came here?”

“I think so, it looks nice” he smiled at me.

“Do you want some?” I asked him, to which I hurriedly stretched out my hand to reach for the container.

Felix nodded, and gently stretched his neck, opening his mouth. He waited for me to feed him. I unconsciously smiled like a fool at his action and took a cookie, handing it to his mouth, Felix laughed between mouthfuls and took it. From a sweet and innocent act it went to tension, as I suddenly felt his heavy gaze, fixed on me, as he delicately licked his lips. Felix. Making me go from one emotion to another. Does he know how nervous he makes me? I'm sure he does and I'm so embarrassed.

“Tastes good.”

I smiled at him. With nothing more to say, I thought for a few seconds until he spoke again.

“So you didn't go out today?”

I shook my head.

“I came here and wanted to rest a bit.” Felix let out a light chuckle, then took a sip from his glass. I must admit, I memorized every little detail of something that only lasted three seconds… it was like in slow motion. Him, with his elegant build, dressed in a way he regularly doesn't, his shiny black button-down shirt, his formal black jeans, his hair still perfectly groomed despite hours of a tedious social event… the way his arm came up and the glass came to touch his mouth, gently closing his eyes and stretching his head back. I was absolutely lost. Absorbed. I averted my gaze as fast as I could when I realized he wanted to captivate mine.

“And… Hyunjin… didn't he want to hang out?”

Felix looked down for a second and gave a half smile.

“Not really… he said he wanted to rest. But I did want to come and spend some time.” He looked at me once more. This time I could feel the tension and the incredible magnetism in our flimsy bodies. Under the glowing light of my kitchen. Just the two of us. Was it me or was his breathing getting heavy? I smiled at him. Again, out of words to which he added:

“I wanted to see you.”

I froze, I swear if he touchs me I can turn into a liquid state. Still, I pray for him to do it. Now. I watched his fingers play with the cup, and the seconds seemed eternal. I didn't know what to say.

“Wanna listen some music?” he suddenly interrupted, clearing his throat and putting his hand over his fingers.

He quickly stood up on his seat. I looked at him confused; Felix headed for the turntable in my living room.

I soon realized, he may have felt uncomfortable, unrequited. I should have said something, silly me. Why doesn't he just take me, can't he see that? Why doesn't he just...

“I listen to it a lot for my French class” he said cheerfully, showing me the cover of Edith Piaf's album.

I smiled warmly at him as I approached him. One thing about Felix is that he would act as if nothing had happened a few seconds ago, just like me, one of the few things alike that we shared.

“It's fun to learn with music.”

“True... but I don't feel in the mood for Piaf's...”

“How about…” he turned, searching through the albums until finally showing me one, “Yes.”

My smile widened so suddenly.

“Lana? Really?”

“You say it's always a good time to listen to her.”

I wanted to capture him in that moment. Him holding my favorite album, with a smile, taking it gently.

“And it is.”

Nervously, without thoughts, I sat down on the couch. The first few seconds are a kind of crunching sound emitted by the record player, it's so... satisfying, then the best part started: the guitar of cruel world, the song. I closed my eyes tightly, hiding my excitement.

Opening my eyes I found a smiling Felix, approaching me, then sitting down next to me. If I thought about it, Felix's all black outfit, his dark hair, matched the album aesthetic completely.

“I love that song” I told him.

“I know. You love all of them.”

I looked sideways at him as I blushed. The song with that slight crackle was so special, I hadn't heard it in a while. I'm obsessed again.

“I'd do anything to hear it for the first time. To erase my memory and... experience it again.”

Felix laughed. I was so happy to hear Lana that I unconsciously moved closer and closer to him.

When the song ended, suddenly it caught my attention that he got up from the couch to go get his phone from the counter, where he stayed for a while, apparently just texting. I sighed, and decided to approach him. He was acting strange out of the blue, I thought he liked me back... I have to prove it before I build up any more stupid expectations.

Felix laughed and kept on texting. It was no big deal. He was confirming his schedule with someone on his staff for tomorrow. Or so I read. As I steped back, slowly, I saw his relaxed expression, and his adorable profile. Well, if I didn't do it now he would leave with nothing but a void in me.

I tried to pretend to check my phone too, but nothing was getting my attention.

“Felix” I called for his attention.

He raised his eyebrows, as a sign that he was listening, but he wasn't. His eyes were glued to the phone screen, his fingers typing nimbly. He looked so good doing the tiniest thing, still, I wanted his attention.

“Felix” I called him back, to which he unexpectedly locked his phone, placing it on the table and stared at me.

He folded his arms, looking relaxed. He was leaning on the edge of the table, facing my living room. Good. Now I had his attention. It took me a few seconds, I tried to captivate him, to let him feel the atmosphere, to which, then, feeling the blood rise in my cheeks, I let out a small laugh at the phrase however I dared to tell him:

“Do you want to kiss me already?”

He thought about it the shortest second and the next, finally, he drew a shy smile on his face, moved closer to me... and I felt his lips on mine. I could die right there.

His hands took hold of my waist and pulled him closer to his body. We were pressed together, moving our lips slowly, enjoying ourselves. I tried to stand on my tiptoes, as my arms wrapped around his body as well. We lasted like that for a sweet minute, his right hand ran from my waist to my face, where he placed his hand on. We looked at each other. The glance after the act was always….

I didn't have time to think. He interrupted my thoughts as his lips crashed into mine again, but this time it was more passionate, quick, desperate. I think we had only kissed like this once before, and it ended up leaving me totally craving something more.

I felt the warmth and softness of his fleshy lips brush mine; this time his grip was stronger, and his hands torturously roamed my body, my back, waist, caressed my hair, I felt his hands touch my flimsy silk pajamas, and I noticed the coldness of his shirt buttons and belt sticking to me. I tried to keep up with him, but suddenly his tongue made me open my mouth wider. He was initiating it.

I just wanted a piece of him tonight, before he walked through that door, before I went to sleep sad that I didn't tell him how intensely I felt...that I wanted him. But this felt so intimate, special. I hope he can finish what he's starting, my legs don't respond, I can hold on because of his strong grip and I feel my temperature rising.

Our breaths shorten. We manage to separate, but Felix looks serious, focused. Then the torture continues, he follows with light kisses, at the corner of my lips, around my face, my lips, the tip of my nose, at one point in his actions, our hands intertwine and he continues, teasing me. He knows I'm impulsive and may take his lips in a desperate act; but I didn't feel like doing it now, that little moment felt so right, lovely, warm, perfect.

Slowly, his kisses came down, each brush felt like a prick, it's sharp, startling, pleasurable pain. My breathing was getting faster and faster and I can hear the throbbing in my ears... for a second I thought if he is feeling the same. But I couldn't get a good look at him. He deposited kisses on my jaw all the way down to the neck. So this was how it was going to happen. I thought.

I couldn't help but feel the sudden violent throbbing in my lower part. Shit, this time I was already wet. I was aroused and I was dying to know if he was feeling the same.

His perfume overwhelms me and the brush of his nose kills me. For a second it's not about sex, it's not about the incredible urge I have for him to take me, remove my clothes and have him do with me in sudden frenzied actions of his, to cry and scream... for a second... it's about the art of touching skin to skin. I needed him. To feel him close. So close. To breathe in his scent as I lay my head on his shoulder, making me his. It was almost as if this whole process was so tedious, I wanted to be under his skin already. To feel wanted by him.

I was about to regain my composure until he came to give me kisses on my shoulders. I was just asking over and over again in my inner thoughts and cries, please take off my blouse.

He grabbed my butt and again pulled me into his body. That's when I opened my eyes a little in surprise as I finally felt him and, I realized, we were both aroused.

His cheeks were colored with a slight reddish tinge and his hands traveled from my ass to the inside of my blouse, where he roamed my waist. The cool touch of his rings against my warm skin made me let out a soft moan, one that managed to make Felix smile broadly.

Once again we found ourselves kissing, but now slowly, delicately and passionately. His hands were finally touching my skin, sometimes he would bring his hand up and I felt his thumbs play with my nipples, he would squeeze my breast and, I had to admit, I loved it. But it frustrated me at the same time.

As we parted, in a quick act due to my frustration, I boldly removed my blouse and threw it on the floor, letting Felix see part of my naked body for the first time and, giving him the green light, that is absolutely happening tonight. I wanted it so badly. I wanted him to see it all if it's possible.

He opened his mouth slightly in surprise, I let him watch for a few seconds and before he could make the next move, I stepped forward, giving him another quick, passionate kiss, then I was the one moving down his neck and then to his slight bare chest. As I did so I could hear Felix's heavy breathing close to my ear, followed by sighs of frustration, exasperation and the occasional slight moan in his deep voice, which really turned me on more and made my legs lose the strength to stand there, standing in front of him. My bare breasts brushed against his silky shirt and I felt the pressure of his hands caressing my bare back, occasionally pushing my loose hair away from my face.

Finally I managed to unbutton his shirt, I stretched it a little to get it out of the grip of his belt and left it open; I saw his flat and worked abdomen, stupidly I ran my hands over it, feeling it; Felix let out a chuckle with an arrogant tone, to which I quickly raised my eyes and he stopped laughing, even so, he returned a sweet smile, one that ended up melting me.

Unsure, I started moving down, depositing kisses on his chest then his abdomen... if I kept moving down this would have a consequence, so I hurriedly and nervously, directed my hand to his erection, where I gently touched it on his pants. I looked up to see Felix's reaction, but he was already closing his eyes, letting himself go. I squeezed it some more, massaging it, this time Felix moaned. From one second to the next, I was on my knees. In front of his notorious bulge, about to do what it's excpected.

Felix leaned back agains the table a little, relaxed his body and with his left hand began to gently stroke my hair.

When my breathing was becoming uncontrollable, choppy and irregular I was starting to like it more. Just like now. With trembling hands, from excitement and nerves, I unbuckled first his belt... then the button of his pants, his zipper... before pulling it down, I looked at Felix, who was watching me from above, even at that angle he looked so good. I think I had fantasized about seeing him in this position... me pleasuring him.

“Do it” he said to me, in a frustrated tone, almost in a gasp.

His voice became deeper than normal. He licked his lips and waited to be satisfied.

My knees were losing resistance, and the pulsations in me were getting stronger and stronger. My mouth began to produce more saliva and I felt my cheeks burn intensely.

I finally pulled down his pants where I found his erection on top of his underwear, more prominent.

I wanted to play his same game, and I kissed slowly over the fabric, stuck my tongue out moistening him a little and used my hands. It was soft and hard at the same time. Meanwhile, I heard Felix cursing in a low tone and sighing. But I couldn't resist that little game anymore, so I pulled the elastic of his underwear, and I had to turn my face away, otherwise he was going to slap me. I closed my eyes for a second and then opened them to finally see him. I blushed instantly, perplexed that this was actually all happening, me about to give him a blowjob... and I used to be so shy around Felix.

It was perhaps, better than I had imagined, perfect length —I think even a little bigger than I thought— perfect thickness, color and obviously kept the area clean. Shit, it looked so good.

I directed my left hand to his straight, firm manhood, feeling the texture of his skin, going up and down, stroking his tip with my fingers, until I reached the other end. Meanwhile my best friend lifted his head back in pleasure with muffled moans.

Before I felt it in my mouth, I wanted to feel it on my lips. I wanted every end of me to feel his texture... I was pretty sure this was going to keep me happy for quite some time... and of course, his love and understanding, I hoped.

I kissed it once, then opened my mouth, closed my eyes and ran his length across my lips. His warm, stiff, throbbing sex was finally at my disposal, his pleasure was now up to me and the thought was enough to make me wet again. I could be on my knees, below him, but I still felt that all the power belonged to me now.

Without further ado, I held him with moderate force and began to lick him, moistening and lubricating him... from his glans to his base, tentatively taking his balls from time to time and at last, I was ready to take him into my mouth. Concentrating on not ruining it, I sucked hard, using my tongue and making him rub the softness of the inside of my cheeks. He seemed to love it.

That's when I noticed a weak Felix, surrendered and letting himself go, holding more and more to the kitchen counter with his hand and the other one not letting go of my hair.

I continued my work, in, out, from shallow... to trying deeper, pulling him out, flicking my tongue and when I felt my jaw hurt, I used my hands.

Felix's moans and gasps were getting hotter and hotter. But nothing compared when he moaned my name in his voice, or when he let out little whispers, like this, it feels good, it was the best music to my ears, even better than the one that was playing in the background... it was priceless, the feeling was on another level. I wanted to be his already.

The atmosphere was burning, nothing around us could turn us off, he was totally lost to the pleasurable sensations and desire. His moans were so hot, blending together with the music and the grotesque sounds of his penis in my mouth, it was all too much that I couldn't help but run my hand slowly over my body, traveling over my tits, pressing them, imagining it's him, finally him, until I reached my wet spot. I was dying to be touched, but I had to stop myself. I really wanted it to be him this time.

Felix noticed my groping, bit his lip and, between the incredibly deep look of lust —a dark, piercing, serious yet brilliant look, my new favorite look of his— I noticed his intentions to stop me and take me. To touch me.

But I didn't want to. I didn't want to stop until I saw him cum. Climax. For me. And only for me. I wanted to see him made a mess just for me. If that included having to hold out a little longer for his touch, I would hold out.

I kept up my work for a while longer, keeping a rhythm, speeding it up, feeling every outstanding vein, his skin texture and fat vibrating cock inside my mouth and sliding down my tongue. Tears were starting to come out of my eyes, my nose was about to get runny… I was so turned on that if he didn't cum, I would at any moment. I swear his moans, the strong grip on my hair, loud sighs and gasps as he called my name were enough for me. I was going crazy.

I could tell how much he loved to be pleasured, the movement of his hips was slight, and his little pushes and pulls on my hair were gentle; just Felix always being so considerate.

Until I felt salty droplets of his pre-seminal fluid coming out of him, lubricating the area more, making it slippery, I knew he was going to cum soon. So I continued, harder.

Felix's moans began to change suddenly his ahh was getting deeper and steadier, his legs were getting weaker and that's when I suddenly felt something warm shot my mouth, followed by a loud exasperated moan from my best friend, fuck, he yelled. He filled my mouth, dripping semen on the edges of it.

I was surprised, but I couldn't help but smile in satisfaction, seeing him fully yielding, with his head back, I was just looking at his bare abdomen, his long neck and marked jaw. I withdrew my mouth and hands slowly, still a mess was made, one that didn't bother me at all, after all it was what I was looking for. His semen fell a little on the floor and there were drops on my chest; I didn't know exactly what to do so I thoughtfully swallowed it. After all Felix was a guy who kept his diet healthy, just someone to trust I guess.

I looked up and found Felix staring down at me from above, at a fucking hot angle, with a cocky grin, he said with a husky voice:

“Did you just swallow it?”

My cheeks burned in embarrassment, I was already hot, and my face already had that pink tinge to it; but for some reason I felt the intensity of the color rise, I didn't know what to say, I was suddenly back to my shy self; was it wrong?

His hands searched my cheeks and lifted my gaze. Quickly, I stood up, never breaking eye contact.

“You're too good. Good girl.”

Still, I was still so horny and wanting so much more. Felix smiled at me, moved dangerously close to me and with his thumb wiped the semen beside my mouth, ran his finger across my lips and made me open my mouth, tasting him one last time. I would never have thought Felix would do something like that, I was surprised and delighted. At the end of the day he was just a little older than me, I guess there is more sex experience in him than I know; I was dying to know.

Without hesitating, he took me by the waist and sat me on the table, the cold, hard marble stone it was made of made me moan. This time Felix had no time to waste, so he pulled hard on my shorts and panties, leaving them lying on the floor and me, completely naked and vulnerable in front of him. I quickly glanced down at my body and then stared at him, his chest still rising and falling from heavy breathing, his gaze turned darker than usual and he still looked focused.

I blushed, he only moved closer to me, separating my legs to accommodate his body and began to kiss me, but now his hand was holding my neck tightly and the other was squeezing and playing with my breasts until he reached my wet pussy, where I put my legs together a little and gave a little jump of surprise when I felt his fingers pass through my area.

I confidently opened up more and more to Felix and wanted to enjoy his touch. I felt two of his slender fingers run up and down, until they found my clitoris, which made me moan in between the kiss, making me shudder, making my nipples hard and, by uncertainty, bringing me closer to his body. Finally he squeezed it and began to make movements, up and down and then circularly. He pulled away from me, but his face was inches from mine. I saw in detail his serious countenance, his pink lips with their perfect heart shape, the freckles scattered across his face and the hair falling a little to his forehead beginning to unkempt, our eyes meeting again.

I held myself with both hands, placed firmly on the table, but I felt small in front of him, I felt like he was now in total control of me. My muscles were contracting, my stomach was enlarging and shrinking from my breaths and constant sighs of excitement… his touch made me swoon. He continued like this, a few painful minutes in which I felt more and more of my climax until he moved down and inserted two of his fingers. It felt so good, with his thumb he kept caressing my clitoris and wet labia; he kept his rhythm, without being rough, it was perfect. I closed my eyes and let myself go, still wanting more of his touch.

“Does it feel good?” he said in my ear in a husky voice.

He smiled broadly. I knew it filled his pride and he liked knowing he was good at what he did, if not the best. At times I was afraid this would happen, Felix can be a bit of a perfectionist, yet he seemed to handle it very well, he cum for me and just now I was watching him masturbating himself. His hand was going up and down and pulling hard his cock, he seemed to be a little rough on himself. He looked so good. I suddenly realized, I wanted him inside me right now.

Felix caught me watching him, removed his fingers from me and began to tease me, rubbing the head of his erect penis over my wet, throbbing lips, pressing and slapping it. I just groaned in frustration.

“Do you have a con…?”

“Do it like this” I interrupted him, aroused.

Felix frowned, confused and unsure of his next move.

“They're in my room. But you can really do it like this” I tried to calm him down and persuade him.

I didn't want to walk to my room for a condom and I didn't want him to come off me right at the best time of night either. Yes, I was thinking stupidly and one little mistake could be forever but those were problems of the future, now I was here, next to him, ready for him to fuck me.

Then, the thing I craved so much, he pushed it into me, slowly until it was all inside. Felix grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to his body, feeling his length deepest in me. I let out a moan. Him inside me felt so good, so right.

And then he started with the non-stop movements, the thrusts. He started slow and when I felt it, I asked for him to do it faster. The sound of our bodies colliding was beutiful. Felix in one swift movement gracefully slid his shirt off, throwing it to the floor, leaned towards me and I couldn't help but touch his naked torso. His arms his back, and his thin silver chain dangling, moving. It felt so good I had forgotten what an incredible dancer he was, he had amazing control in his hips. His thrusts were strong, deep and steady, each one deteriorating me, destroying me, in the best possible way.

My breasts were moving up and down and Felix was moaning and panting freely near my ear. Everything was wonderful. I managed to wrap my legs around his body and stroke his soft hair, I was feeling so full and full that I could predict my climax at any moment. He felt it, my legs trembling, my muscles shrinking, my back arching and my eyes watering with my grip on his back tighter, my inner walls felt so hot, wrapping his hard dick tightly.

So, before I could cum, he kissed me, caught my lips, passionately. And I climaxed, this time moaning louder than the previous times and one more time… calling his name.

Felix didn't cum yet, but he seemed happier for my reaction as a half-smile appeared on his face. He continued inside me but now in a more delicate and slower, almost romantic way, until he pulled his erection out of me, resting it on my belly and came.

I was trying to catch my breath, as was he, for a few seconds we said nothing. Until we looked into each other's eyes and we both burst into laughter. It was bit funny because evidently we both wanted to have each other so badly.

I got off the table, thinking, this doesn’t have to end yet, I feel sticky for the fluids and a little embarrased. Since we were here, there was one more thing I wanted to do, well, hundreds, but right now I was only thinking of one. I want to jump on his dick.

“Let's go to my room”, I said, taking his hands, almost in a plea “Take off your clothes.”

Felix still had his pants and underwear on, only they were both pulled down. Without looking back I walked to my room, almost jumping of happiness. I waited for him, sitting on my bed. I was wet and ready again just thinking about it. Felix came in a few seconds later, shy, blushing and covering his area, as if I hadn't seen it all before. I laughed slowly and he sat down next to me, on the edge of the bed, so with a nod I told him to settle in nicely, with his full body to the bed.

Finally we were both naked, ready to give ourselves completely once again. I spread my legs apart one on each side of him, putting my body in front, and kissed him again. That unique kiss that we loved to give each other so much, passionate, strong and intense. My hands went down from his abs to his already hard cock, playing with it a little. As we parted, I looked at him, and confessed:

“I want to feel all of you again, Felix; is that okay?”

That meant I wanted to feel every raw texture of his hard cock inside me, every inch rubbing all over my guts.

He looked at me, so fucking cute with his big brown cat eyes; he nodded shyly.

I smiled and put it on. Slowly, teasing him. I played a little, rubbing it in my area, rubbing it, just like he did. Letting myself fall gently on his cock, stroking it over my cunt without putting it inside of me yet, moving slowly back and forth, Felix closed his eyes in pleasure, and I couldn't hold back any longer, I was just getting wetter and wetter, my area was was throbbing, ready to ride my best friend's cock.

So I stared at him.

“Now it's my turn” I said.

I had this theory that Felix liked to be slightly dominated and, evidently he liked to have the attention to him and I seriously liked to give, so it was a perfect dynamic. And without further ado, I settled him right into me. Felix moaned and his hands held my waist tightly.

Then I started to do it finally, what I wanted so badly after all. I jumped on him, slowly moving up and down… as I felt his hands run up and down my body, damn it was excellent. My cheeks once again burned and I felt slight sweat break out on me. Felix seemed to love it and that was just what I wanted. I rested my head near his neck for a moment, breathing in his scent and feeling his soft hair on my nose. I had him just the way I wanted, close to me.

Once again, the beautiful, grotesque sound of our skins colliding mixed with our pleasure-filled sighs and moans. Until culminating in my second orgasm and for him, his third. The sensation was so indescribable and more when you’re together with the person you wanted.

We hugged. Felix gave me a tender kiss on the cheek as he stroked my arm and hair. I expected nothing more from sweet Felix than adorable after care; he was just like that.

I think I was going to sleep next to him for the first time. Internally I squealed with excitement and returned the tender kiss on his cheek.

#lee felix smut #lee felix fluff #skz smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #felix x reader #felix x you #lee felix x reader #kpop smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #𐙚wen writes♡₊˚⊹

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kykyonthemoon · 4 months ago

Text

Where The Osmanthus Whispers

In another universe where you and Zayne grew up together without ever being apart, you have the chance to celebrate his birthday with him.

Happy birthday to our dear Zayne!

── .✦ Zayne x F.Reader (MC)

── .✦ Tags: AU, fluff, sweet, trope: childhood friends to lovers, really soft fluff, i was literally melting while writing this piece, birthday fic

── .✦ Word count: 2k2

── .✦ Ky Ky's notes: This fic was inspired by Zayne's birthday card "Eternal Attachment", especially the part where he and MC imagined what would happen if they grew up together.

For all the Zayne's girlies out there, I wish you have a blast on his birthday and all the days to come.

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

Where The Osmanthus Whispers

"Thank you for taking care of our boy, as well as celebrating his birthday with him on our behalf."

You responded to the two individuals on the laptop screen, saying:

"It's nothing to worry about at all."

"Every year, we are fortunate to have you there. Otherwise, we can't bring ourselves to relax. Even though Zayne is a grown-up, taking care of his health and spending time dating are still things that concern the two of us the most."

When you were unsure of how you should respond, Zayne's mother piped up:

"Oh my! Why did you mention that? Look how she's blushing! Surely they're really happy together, right, dear?"

Auntie immediately turned around and asked, startling you. You attempted to clarify:

"Ah, the truth is we aren't..."

"I know you'll take excellent care of Zayne. But hey, if he does anything to upset you, make sure to call and let me know! I will always stand by your side!”

"Auntie, we are not—"

"That is all!" We have to go now. We entrust Zayne's birthday celebration to you again this year!"

"—dating…"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You grumbled and glanced at the screen where the call had just ended. Zayne's parents traveled away from home for business, but every year they sent him presents from the places they visited. This year, as previous ones, the present package was delivered to your address. Surely Zayne's parents knew he was too busy at the hospital all day and night to return home, so they sent it to you instead.

Every year, it was just you and Zayne celebrating his birthday together. When you were children and his family was still around, you went to his house to celebrate. Now that he had grown up, Zayne no longer wanted to throw large parties. Sometimes he even forgot his own birthday. If it were not for the wishes and presents from his parents, or the cake you brought to his place, he would probably let the anniversary slip away into oblivion.

Come to think of it, Zayne's present was sent to you, his birthday party was organized by you, his parents somehow always assumed you two were dating... If only it were like that!

You reclined back on the sofa and turned on your phone. The first name that appeared on its contact list was invariably Zayne. You tapped the call button.

After a ring, Dr. Zayne's face emerged. He was not in the office, and the scene behind him made it clear he was in the hospital cafeteria.

“I'm here.”

You smiled as a greeting. “Is Doctor Zayne on his lunch break?”

“Several colleagues invited me to lunch. What about you? Not skipping lunch, are you?”

“Nope.” You replied. “Your parents have just called. Your present has also arrived at my door."

The corner of Zayne's mouth, which was always straight, curled up a bit before swiftly returning to its natural shape. But you managed to capture that moment.

“I will fetch it after work.”

“Hello, Doctor Zayne! Can I ask you something about this morning's meeting?” A female voice sounded very close. That was not Yvonne's. Zayne nodded back to the person whose face you could not see, then he said to you:

“Is there anything else you want to share with me?”

"No." You answered a bit bluntly. Something ugly and unpleasant began to awaken in your mind.

“I'll see you later then.”

Zayne spoke. Then the screen switched off. You laid down on the sofa and glanced up at the ceiling, mind buzzing with the conversation at Akso Hospital a few days before.

Long story short, you were telling Nurse Yvonne about your plans for a celebration on Zayne's birthday. Greyson overheard it and volunteered to help. During the discussion, he mentioned:

“Recently there have been a lot of female interns coming to the hospital. They all appear to be big fans of Doctor Zayne. Aren’t you jealous?"

"Erm…" You were confused for a second.

Greyson shook his head, as if he had no choice but to deal with the situation. "You're too subjective. Although Dr. Zayne is incredibly devoted and trustworthy, a little jealousy like this may spice things up and bring the two of you even closer to each other."

“I… Wait, what are you talking about?…”

After then, you were forced to spend half an hour listening to Greyson as the "guru" of your relationship with Zayne. Apparently, he, like everyone else, believed you and Doctor Zayne were romantically involved. You attempted to find a way to clarify it, but Greyson did not give you a chance. So you wondered how a person who claimed to know so much about love like himself could still be single.

In your room, you rolled back and forth on the sofa. At last, you decided to stop being concerned about it and focus on arranging Zayne's birthday party, which was just around the corner.

Everything went according to plan. Even Zayne, who was undoubtedly aware of the surprise party planned for him, followed your requests in a more obedient way. Thanks to the help of Doctors Riley, Greyson and Yvonne, the birthday party at the villa in the woodland happened especially warm and pleasant. Zayne was also genuinely delighted.

But it was not the only present you had prepared for him. As a child, Zayne's parents once told him, "The blessing given to you by the first stranger you meet on your birthday will supposedly come true". That was why you made the effort to ensure that the first person he saw on his birthday morning every year was you. This year was no different.

Zayne arrived at the destination on time. The modest food truck you rented in the forest was stocked with sweets and pastries. Zayne sampled all of the treats, but his absolute favorite was the frosted sugar cookies that you made by yourself. Following that, he proposed that you two go for a stroll around.

The osmanthus woodland was dyed yellow. The mellow fall sunlight, along with the crisp air, was quite pleasant. The dry leaves rustled under your feet as you ventured alongside Zayne. After a time, you decided to break the stillness:

“Last night, I dreamed of something very strange.”

Zayne slowed down and looked at you, wondering: "Is there any dream of yours that isn't strange?"

You threw him a glance, then laughed:

“It really was! Well, I dreamed of us in another world. There, Zayne moved far away from me when he was a child. We didn't keep in touch anymore. When we grew up, you became Doctor Zayne, and I was your patient.”

Zayne remained silent so you could finish your narrative, but he gazed at you as if he were anxious that your dream would come true and the two of you would be separated for a prolonged amount of time.

"In my dream, I always regretted not being with Zayne on your birthdays... But, if we really lost contact with each other many years ago, do you think we would see each other again?”

"Of course." Zayne responded without thinking too much. "Because of your negligence and lack of knowledge about health care, you would most likely need to visit the hospital on a regular basis. Then we would meet again."

You frowned. "Look who's talking! Last year, you tried to work on your birthday. It wasn't until late at night that you returned home to celebrate with me. If you didn't get a break this year, you'd definitely spend the entire day at the hospital, right?"

Zayne's footsteps came to an absolute halt. You had both just arrived at the lakeshore. Sunlight and osmanthus flowers appeared to pour gold into the lake. Shimmering. He turned to you and replied:

"Since someone took the trouble to organize a big birthday celebration for me, I must participate wholeheartedly. Otherwise, she would be extremely sad."

You smiled.

“I know that Doctor Zayne constantly prioritizes the health of others. But to me, your health is equally important. Come to think of it... The me in that dream didn't get to celebrate birthday with Zayne every year... She had many regrets. If we hadn't grown up together, things would be very different now, right?"

“That's right,” Zayne replied, “The me in your dreams would not have someone to celebrate his birthday with every year. The box containing his presents from someone important would be empty. No one would ask him to help with homework but ended up falling asleep instead. He would not know who to comfort with ice cream. His sleeves would not get wet because someone's hand was holding too tightly when they went to the beach for fireworks together. His shadow beneath the moon would be very lonely on the long road..."

Zayne hesitated. He reached out to pick up the yellow blossom that had just fallen onto your hair.

“But even so, he would try hard to see his childhood friend again. They would be together again, making up for all the regrets during the time they were apart. They would always have each other in the later years. Just as we are now.”

For a moment there, you were unsure of what to say. Emotions surged in your heart, driving you to cry. You suppressed it, turned to face the lake and said:

“I really admire the me in that dream. Because she was free to express her feelings to Zayne… Because she wasn't…”

"Wasn't?" Zayne inquired out of curiosity.

"Nothing. I'm just wondering, if we weren't friends who grew up together, would things be clearer? For instance,... your parents, colleagues, classmates, patients, and others would not misunderstand the relationship between us..."

"Misunderstand?"

Confusion appeared on Zayne's face. You observed a golden flower descending onto his hair. Standing on tiptoe, you assisted him in taking it down. All of a sudden, Zayne grabbed your wrist. His eyes locked with you.

“Are you saying others are misunderstanding us?”

"Yes." You responded quietly. “They think we're… well… dating.”

“Are we not?”

"Huh?!"

The wind whistled. Flowers and leaves rustled together. Above your head, below your feet. But the sound of your heart beating was louder and clearer than anything. Zayne's hand traveled gently around your wrist, eventually grasping the osmanthus flower you were holding. He separated your fingers so that they would interlace with his.

"In the past, when I was about to leave home to attend a far-away school, there was a girl who gathered all of her courage to tell me this, 'Zayne, don't date anyone! I'll grow up soon! Wait for me!’ I kept my word to her. But it appears she has already forgotten what she told me."

The skin on your face was heated. You made an effort to turn away to hide your shyness, but Zayne frantically ran his hand through your hair, keeping your face toward him. You muttered:

"I was still a kid at that time... You skipped many grades and transferred to Linkon… I was so afraid we wouldn't be able to see each other anymore…”

You had said those words, that you wanted Zayne to wait until you grew up. You did not dare to consider the possibility that he would grow up before you did and eventually date someone else. You would no longer be able to be with him. Those childish words of yours were still kept in his heart until this moment.

“That's why I tried to study hard and looked forward to visiting you every weekend. I waited until you graduated, until you started your career. I counted every day off to be by your side. I don't expect you to recall what you said to me in our childhood. But, given how you are always at my side, taking care of me, and sharing your life with me, I assumed everything was obvious by now. That we belong together.”

“Well…” You tried to reorganize the words in your tangled emotions. Zayne and you had always been together like this. You had long been more than just friends. But you were always terrified of crossing that boundary just to discover he would not have the same feelings for you. The bridge of your nose burned slightly as you pressed your face against Zayne's massive palm, which had always protected you.

"I regret not expressing my feelings properly to you sooner." Zayne spoke gently. He took a step forward and hugged you. “Honestly, I am not good with words. I believed that simply being close to you was enough to convey my feelings. But it concerned you even more, which was not my intention."

You smiled softly, arms wrapping around Zayne's back.

"I wasn't certain I was that special in Zayne's heart. So I kept hesitating, doubting you, doubting myself... Now I understand. I know that I am able to freely express my feelings to you, just like the girl in my dream. Thank you, Zayne.”

Zayne's breath merged with yours, carrying the aroma of osmanthus and pastries. He whispered:

“Then I should learn to express my emotions even more. Starting now.”

Zayne's golden gaze focused on the corner of your lips. His fingers caressed your face in such a delicate manner. You smiled, eyelids half-closed. He leaned down to offer you the most tender kiss of all. Osmanthus blossoms fluttered in the breeze, delivering to you and Zayne the blessings of autumn.

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saoirseyun · 10 days ago

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⸝⸝ x fem reader

. . . Dreaming about noble!dazai whose eyes physically cannot leave yours once catching glimpses inside one of many brothels to see you gracefully await in lounge. You're exceptionally gorgeous, radiant—even. Mannerisms delicate and rather elegant at once, as Dazai further watches you for brief. A rare thing among courtesans who've desired the position merely for fine status and wealth—actually presentable of what is expected of them.

. . . Sure, noble!dazai wasn't exactly sure if that were the case of things but could he be blamed for being attracted immediately for what was naturally beautiful? Speaking of, Dazai notices the light usage of makeup on your face. The white powder and bold red lipstick remains—yet it wasn't as exaggerated, or much more "proudly worn."

. . . You've presented yourself so intricately. Like, a woman of true class. He wasn't able to put a clear pin on it but you alone serve such respect and dignity towards anyone regardless of status or wealth. Behind the scenes? Oh, now we're talking sass. You've got quite the fun personality too! Dazai can't be helped.

. . . You're an one-out-of-a-hundred. At least, noble!dazai was certain enough to believe so anyway. Don't you know how hard it is to find women like you? Dazai's previous having all those same characteristics turns out to be a slut.

. . . Additionally, noble!dazai found you to be much more precious than the usual courtesan bought from brothels. There was another thing about the way you've performed arts for him or provided entertainment.

. . . Professionalism in every sense. You held together acts with such exquisite excellence. noble!dazai found himself in a hefty state of daze closely watching your darling performances—crafted carefully act by act to be done so gorgeous by one beautiful woman. (The fact that you were doing this all for him made his ego grow further.)

. . . Typically, noble!dazai could not simply afford to have some kind of proper love between his purchased women whilst a thousandth or so mistresses long to be called his. For once, however, Dazai might as well give you a chance.

a/n: okokok fr this time I'm sticking to this style of writing hcs bc the astronomer!zai post needed more effort than necessary :/

hey! small question,

please send an ask if so!

thank you all for your support<3

#일본어 귀족 au #my post #—; unclassified headcanons.#2024/11/12 #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd dazai x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x fem reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x yn #dazai x y/n #dazai x you

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mis-mcgifsten · 10 months ago

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The perfection of this image cannot be denied.

To protect the world from devastation, to unite all evils within our nation!

#team rocket #captain rex #ahsoka #no joke my gf (neither of us are pokemon people) are now coming up with so many au thoughts #we've decided Fives is Meowth #Grievous is Ash (because he gotta catch em all cuz they will make a fine edition to his collection) and Dooku is Prof Oak #maybe Ventress is Grievous' rival?#Previous tags of excellence

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kquil · 10 months ago

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DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER TWO

02 : SHOPPING (1/2)

CHPT. SUM. : life isn't easy in the Black Family household, you need to get out, you also need a new wand. Sirius does too as well as a few other things; time to go shopping.

LENGTH : 5.8k

TAGS. : hurt/comfort ; tantrums ; fluff ; sirius needs a hug ; regulus needs a hug ; original walburga can eat shit ; orion can eat shit too ; reader being an amazing mother ; walburga deserves to get bullied ; floo powder travels ; diagon alley shopping time~ ; stupid wands ; arson ; goblin OC ; sirius being a sneaky baby ; regulus follows in his older brother's footsteps ; misbehaving things ; Ollivander cameo~ ; please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes for now, this wasn't really proofread (╥﹏╥) i'll go back over things later on!

← PREV. | 01 : ARRIVAL | SERIES M.LIST

7th August 1971

It didn’t take you long to uncover the upsetting affairs of the ever proud Black Family.

There was nothing to be proud of. It sickened you to witness the blatant disdain Orion had for his own two sons, neglecting them by leaving for work early and returning only to lock himself up in his home office. The bastard even overlooked his sons when he was present at home on the weekends and the few words he spoke when addressing them dripped with cruelty and ignorance. The only positive thing you could take from his absence, however, is the fact that the boys didn’t have to tolerate his silent callousness for long periods of time.

But that meant seeing the effects of Walburga’s despicable conditioning of the two boys, which was far worse.

It was clear that Regulus wanted to be favoured and compiled to his mother’s whims, desperately seeking her approval. Whenever his small, pale hands reached out for you, no matter how miniscule, you accepted with open arms and a warm smile. His precious look of surprise, and shy happiness at your unexpected acceptance, never failed to make your heart shatter, even more so that his reaction never seemed to let up.

Before every apology, before every small request, before every word he breathed in your direction, there was an evident hesitance, a slight fear in his motions that made him freeze up for a moment. It was a consistent action that you hoped, with time, would disappear for good. You love having Regulus for your son but you don’t want him to do things just because you said so. In your previous life and before your dreams were shattered, the one thing you looked forward to about having children was the development of their own personality, the becoming of their own individual person. That’s what you want for Regulus, and Sirius too. But you know that Regulus was the main son who was deprived of that pleasure in the original timeline so you wanted to give him that extra bit of care. It was your responsibility, now, to give him that happiness.

Sirius was the same. He wanted approval too, you could see it so very clearly in his piercing grey eyes – it’s an innocence he shares with his younger brother. There’s a glimmer of hope in his grey pools, hidden behind the need to protect Regulus and the mix of anger and sadness fostered by the horrendous parents he had the ill-fate of having. You want to bring down those walls but you know it’ll take some time. Nevertheless, you clung onto the hope present in his eyes and used it to cultivate your firm resolution, like a garden to the foundation of a new life and a new future. It was needed, especially when Sirius lashed out, his fury, dangerously ablaze like a forest fire set on destroying everything in its wake.

It was no secret that the original Walburga expected nothing but excellence from her only two sons, so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that she had hired private tutors for them leading up to their official education in Hogwarts. They were to study French, Etiquette, Literature, Cursive/Calligraphy, Maths and all of the wizarding basics. All taught by private tutors that delivered material like stale bread on a plate and leaving them with the terribly tedious assignments in the most ridiculous amounts. You understood why Sirius worked himself up to such a tantrum. However, he was not setting a good example for his younger brother, who clung onto the long flowing skirt of your black dress and pressed himself against your legs for comfort.

Tenderly, you combed your fingers through Regulus’ neatly permed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp while the two of you waited for Sirius to lose energy and simmer down enough for you to finally get a word in. It only took a few minutes but Sirius was soon left heavily panting, his expulsion of rage gone but still evident in his harsh glare and aggressive stance.

Silence took over the room as you continued to hold his gaze, determined to handle the situation calmly but firmly and without any interruptions – you hope to God that your amateur imperturbable charm worked on the door of the room; it was the weekend, meaning that Orion was at home and he wouldn’t take too kindly to his equally hateful wife being screamed at by his disobedient son.

“...it’s not fair…” Sirius grumbles under his breath, pouting defiantly as his small hands ball up into clenched fists by his sides.

“I know it’s not fair, Sirius,”

“Then—!” Sirius cuts himself off when you raise a brow at him, your mouth pressed into a tight, thin line.

Some part of you understands why Sirius would lash out so aggressively; he was practically drowning under the workload he was set by his individual tutors, drowning under the expectations the original Walburga had set on him and he didn’t know how to express his frustrations. Along the way, you’re sure he’s bottled up his emotions and tried to get on with things, evident by the littered chaos of papers at his feet, marked by his neat handwriting. Such beautiful handwriting for such a young and troubled boy. With his deadline fast approaching and his assignments piled up to his ears, Sirius lashed out in the violent and wrathful way he’s been exposed to since birth. You want to be soft and comply with his demands but you know that’ll foster bad habits in him. Conceding now will only teach him that it’s okay to become violent when he’s frustrated and that it’ll work to help him get what he wants. But that is a false reality. And you will not perpetuate the illusion for him.

He’s your son now, he’s your responsibility and you’re going to teach him well. So you stand firm but composed. You’re setting an example. It isn’t until you sense the fear of what may happen slowly seeping into Sirius’ much smaller frame, that you step forward and take action.

In your slow approach, Sirius flinches and snaps his eyes tightly shut. His clenched fists slowly come up to shield his chest as his shoulders tense despite the visible shiver that runs up his frame.

A small voice calls out behind you, “Mother–”

“Regulus, this is between me and your brother. Please don’t interfere,” Regulus bites his lip into silence but watches on with fearful eyes. He wants to step in and hold his brother close, the same way Sirius has done to help comfort him many times before but, no matter how strong his will, Regulus didn’t move. Why? Was it the fear or… was it something else?

Once close enough, you kneel down and gently grasp Sirius’ small shoulders. You try not to wince when he falters from your touch and tries to withdraw but your grip keeps him securely in place. Inhaling deeply and slowly, you begin to speak in a stable voice and with strength. It’s best to start from the beginning.

“Sirius…” you wait until he meets your eyes, hesitant and afraid but stubbornly brave, “what’s wrong?” he sends you a look of exasperation, you can read him easily ‘why are you asking him that when he’s been screaming at you about it?’, “I will not listen or engage in any conversation with you if you ever speak to me that way,” you set the boundary and pause to make sure he processes your words clearly before continuing, “I will only listen if you talk to me like a normal person, if you just scream at me like that then I can’t help you,”

Sirius wants to scoff at your words; how could he possibly trust you to help him if you’ve never been worthy of his trust? But he glimpses the image of his worried, younger brother over your shoulder and bites down on his sharp tongue. Regulus has grown a small but reluctant trust for you ever since the day you fainted. It was naive of him but Sirius could never fault his younger brother for anything. He’s always been the one with the softer heart between them so it was natural for Regulus to be more trusting. Deep down, Sirius wants to have that same level of give within him too.

But it was hard. It’s hard to trust…

…that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, however. One prolonged look at his brother was all he needed to have the courage to put that trust forward.

“It’s unfair,” he repeats, clearly this time.

“What’s not fair?” you prompt, your features softening along with your tone as Sirius wills himself to continue. You haven’t lashed out at him yet, you haven’t even threatened to launch a curse at him, that was a good sign.

“All this work…” he gestures to the scattered papers he had thrown to the floor in defiance. Now, he looks towards them in shame and quickly diverts his gaze from the mess.

“I see,” you hum as he looks onto you with eyes of wonderment, unable to comprehend that you were taking in his complaint so graciously – he isn’t used to this type of gentleness but he likes it… “I’m sorry you’re under so much pressure to do this much work,” Sirius holds his breath as hope builds up within him, its light is radiant but he tries to ignore it, “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you–”

“––I tried to do well!” Sirius defends, his eyes desperately searching your own for some form of understanding. It was your warm smile that eased his panicked heart… in some sense, he’s beginning to understand his younger brother; his mother looks far prettier when she’s smiling.

“I know,” you cup his face with one hand and lovingly caress the skin of his cheek with your thumb, “you’ve worked so hard. Thank you for trying, Sirius,” you watch tears pool at his eyes and coo comfortingly as you bring him into your arms and tuck his face into your shoulder, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I promise to talk to your tutors about the workload,” your gentle assurance and unfaltering promise eases his worries and Sirius allows himself to melt into your embrace. You’ve never called him that before. And never in such a loving or warm tone. It makes his heart feel lighter and his breath stutters in disbelief.

Can he keep you like this? He wants you to be like this forever.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stays wrapped up in your kind embrace but he’s brought back to his senses when he hears shuffling and quickly feels his younger brother being brought into the hug too. Lighthearted and optimistic about the world’s goodness, Sirius brings an arm around his brother, who reciprocates his actions, and the three of you stay there, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. This is nice.

“Regulus,” Sirius feels his brother stiffen up beside him, but only for a moment, it almost goes unnoticed before Regulus tucks himself further into your arms, “I’m sorry for the burden of work on you too,”

“I-It’s okay, mother,” alas, his younger brother is too forgiving but Sirius knows it’s a trait that he loves his brother for.

“Do you like the amount of work you’re doing?” you question, doing your best to keep your tone neutral and only slightly peaking in curiosity.

Regulus pauses for a moment, contemplating his answer, “I wouldn’t mind less work…”

His answer makes you laugh, the sound feathery and light, it makes the two brothers stare at each other in wide-eyed disbelief. They’ve never heard their mother laugh before. It was obscure and strange but a pleasant sound, something that they want to hear more often from you.

“Then it’s settled, I’ll be having a word with your tutors,” the two boys release a sigh of relief and you feel Sirius melt a little more into your arms, “so you can leave your work alone for next week entirely,” their shock doesn’t go unnoticed but you continue, “I’m so proud of both of you for working so hard,” you didn’t want to rush things but you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly and gently and with all the love you could muster, you lean forward and press a kiss to Sirius’ forehead and then do the same to Regulus.

They were stunned into silence as a pink hue rose to their cheeks, their wide, unbelieving eyes staring up at you in the most precious way. They look so adorable; you want to capture this image of them in a photo to keep forever. You can practically hear their racing hearts trying to beat out of their chests as their eyes swim with a child-like astonishment and wonder. They’re just two precious little boys who deserved better than the miserable, tragic fate J.K fucking Rowling wrote for them. And you were going to stop at nothing to make sure their futures were happy.

Warm with happiness, your soft smile remains as you gently usher the two into the living room to settle down and relax for the evening. However, the little bubble of merriment you had cultivated with the two boys was promptly ruptured by the sour, disgruntled face you happened upon as soon as you opened the door.

Tucking the boys’ suddenly tense frames into the folds of your skirt, you address the intruder, “Orion–”

“What was all that racket?” he demanded, his voice booming and frightening enough for Regulus to begin shaking faintly against you. It made anger spike in your chest but, thankfully, Sirius was there to reach out and immediately begin comforting his younger brother. You made sure to keep the boys out of Orion’s gaze but it was no use, “Sirius! I know it was you! HOW DARE—!”

“We’ve already settled the issue so there’s no need to talk about it further!” you interrupt through clenched teeth, chest puffed out angrily as you hold the boys’ tense but trembling figures into your legs, hoping to calm them as best as you can. Curse that imperturbable charm! And curse that stupid wand! You haven’t been able to cast a single, functioning spell with it and your excitement for the world of magic had quickly dwindled into abhorrence, stemming solely from the stubbornly disobedient wand, “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do so excuse us!”

You hurriedly lead the boys away from Orion and to the living room as Orion snarls, outraged at being dismissed so flippantly but confused over your sudden change in demeanour. For now, he settles on observing the changes no matter how subtle and returns back to his office.

“THAT WAND ISN’T WORKING FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT IT’S TRUE MASTER!” Walburga screams in your head and instantly makes you clutch your temple in distress. Settled in the living room sofas, Sirius and Regulus observe you with worry. Walburga doesn’t seem to know any other way of communicating than screaming and it has led to multiple black outs and fainting spells. It also meant that you kept having to drink the same disgusting healing potion over and over again and you were sick of it!

Seeing the same symptoms again, the two boys fidget in their seats, wondering what to do to help, “Are you okay mother?” Regulus asks as you muster a small smile.

“I’ll be alright, Regulus, thank you,” your response isn’t enough to convince Sirius and he whispers something in his younger brother’s ear as you set to deal with the annoying bitch stuck in your head.

‘Shut up you insufferable bitch, is inducing a headache your only talent?’ Your words and foul language make her sputter pathetically and it makes you laugh under your breath. Your moment of joy and satisfaction is short lived, however, as Regulus summons Kreacher just as you fall into darkness once more.

The fucking bitch…

8th August 1971

Because of that evil bitch stuck in your head, you had to ingest another phial-full of that horrendous healing potion. Not only that but the stupid wand still isn’t working for you.

“How can I survive this hell hole if I can’t even use magic?” you grumble into the open air as the evil bitch cackles resembled the sputtering and coughing of a broken-down car, mixed with the discordance of an off-tune violin, erratic, grating and screeching.

‘Can you shut up?!’ you shout in your head, already fuming, ‘Your laugh sounds like it could kill someone! No wonder you’re so miserable and your only sons hate you!’ that finally got her to shut up and you could think clearly again. Even though the situation was annoying, It made you snicker. Being able to bully Walburga into silence made those awful healing potions worth it. You’d drink a hundred healing potions if it meant delivering justice for you two boys.

Now that she’s silent, you observe your desk. Thankfully, you also had your ownhome office. The previous Walburga had a planner specific for Sirius and Regulus’ studying plans, diet and calendars full of ‘X’s with small notes beside them on disobedience and the subsequent punishments. It was sickening and you wanted to burn the thing but you resisted. If you want to act convincingly in front of Orion and plan slyly, you need to know as much about the original Walburga as possible so you keep all her planners, journals and scraps of paper intact. You’ll study their contents thoroughly in due time. You still have some major planning to do and you need to note down important dates to keep track of before you forget them. The start you’ve made has been decent, however, you know you need to rely on magic at some points and you wouldn’t be able to succeed in the current state of your wand. And it isn’t as though you weren’t able to cast magic; the first time you tried to cast a simple spell – the well-renowned ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ – you had set the flowers in the vase on fire.

You need an excuse to go out. As the Patriach of the Black family, Orion had the key to the Gringotts Black Family vault so you can’t just go out haphazardly. You also weren’t comfortable with leaving the boys home alone so you need them to come with you if you can.

With a sigh, you slump into the rigid desk chair and set about occupying yourself with mundane tasks. Perhaps if you indulge yourself in other, simple activities, you can come up with something creative. Stacking your messily scrawled notations of future plans, you begin to rummage through the desk drawers for a stapler or paper clip but come up unproductive. Nothing. Did wizards and witches not use basic stationary?... They had magic, yes, but surely…

Your internal ramblings come to an abrupt stop when you spot a famed crest sitting above a deep red seal. The crest features four familiar beasts, a lion, a badger, a raven and a serpent; at the very centre was an ostentatious ‘H’ — it’s a letter from Hogwarts. And you were just beginning to suspect its potential contents. The seal has already been broken and the letter slips out easily.

Words on the page read with nostalgia, it was as if you were watching the first Harry Potter film all over again and cheering at Harry’s liberation from his toxic aunt, uncle and cousin.

‘Dear Sirius Black,’ it reads and your heart stutters in both excitement and anxiety, ‘We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.’

“Term starts on September 1st,” your eyes snapt to the desk calendar, which had automatically crossed off the days. It’s a little early but that just means you’ll beat the academic year rush. With a smile, you take out the separate list of necessary school supplies and pair it with a small list of your own.

Perfect, you have your reason.

9th August 1971

Before travelling by floo, Kreacher came up to you and cast a simple dirt-repellent spell on you and your two sons. You were grateful for his foresight and thanked him graciously for doing so. Much like all the times before, your unexpected kindness makes the grumpy house elf falter clumsily but adorably as Regulus grins at your side and Sirius huffs with an exaggerated pout on his lips. He’s still ever so stubborn about the house elf but you’ve observed how Regulus has put in the effort to push the two together. You join in the gentle prodding through leading by example, treating Kreacher kindly and with respect. Bit by bit, Sirius has been following yours and Regulus’ lead. He’s not fully there but you smile at the little progress he’s made. It’s only been a few days after all and the results are optimistic, it makes your heart flutter and you look forward to the future with brighter eyes. Sirius had been buzzing with silent excitement all morning and Regulus was quick to join his older brother’s enthusiasm when you informed him that he was welcome to come and join you.

You set off to travel by floo first so you can wait for the boys on the other side and so they’re not on their own not for too long. “Diagon Alley,” you announce clearly and without a shake of nervousness in your voice, only feverish anticipation. In moments, you’re engulfed by green flames. The world whirls around you in a dizzying blur of colours and sounds, the sensation both exhilarating and disorienting.

Unlike Harry and the Weasleys, you appear out of the subsequent fireplace without a spec of dirt on you and smile as you stumble out to await your two sons. The adrenaline rush of it all makes your fingers tingle and your head feel light headed but your smile only brightens. You still can’t believe you’re really here, sometimes.

Sirius came next and then Regulus. However, despite their earlier excitement, it appears as though their spirits were dampened just before travelling. Now, they stand before you with pouting lips and downcast eyes.

“What’s wrong boys?” you ask softly, kneeling down to their level, it was purely out of instinct now. You meet them at their comfort as an equal rather than the other way around. It usually does the trick of consoling them enough to speak to you but this time is different. Their lips are tightly sealed.

“We’re okay,” Sirius says in a tone that makes it seem as if he was trying to convince himself that. You want to press further but relent with a nod. It would be better for you to let them talk at their own time. Hopefully, being outside with so many charming shops dotted around, they’ll ease up and smile again. Pressing a brief kiss to their temples, you lead them out to the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley.

The street was bustling with magic and mystery as you observe the scene with bright eyes. The atmosphere of the wizarding alley didn’t compare to the movie adaptations. It was much more charming and wondrous to observe in real life. And wasn’t nearly as claustrophobic as it was depicted to you. However, that may be due to the fact that you hadn’t left the school shopping too late and so the streets weren’t as congested as when Harry went school shopping for the first time. Nevertheless, your heart didn’t stop pounding in elation as you held hands with your two sons and set forth to your first destination.

“Our first stop is at a very important place, okay?” on either side of you, Sirius and Regulus nod, still silent as you lead them through the streets. The air was thick with the scent of potion ingredients and freshly baked treats from the nearby shops, a symphony of sounds and smells, it was a little overwhelming but you couldn’t complain, the tenor of the climate was still very addictive.

As if summoning your first destination, your eyes were drawn to the towering structure of Gringotts, the goblins' bank. Its grandeur was a stark contrast to the quaint shops lining the street, making it stand out like a uniquely different gem amongst a cluster of little treasures.

You walk forward with purpose now but still keep your strides short for the boys. Looking down you observe how they take in the environment around them, dressed like little princes with perfectly permed hair and glittering diamond eyes. Sirius had familiarised himself with the routine of the day, the first stop would be Gringotts to withdraw money to buy all of his school supplies, the second stop would be to retrieve his wand and after that, it would just be a matter of going down the list. It was a different plan to the usual fixed outline his parents were strict to follow in usual outings. Sirius would have been more enthusiastic if his father hadn’t forcibly pulled him and Regulus aside after you’d first disappeared by floo.

‘Don’t even think about dirtying the Black family name while outside. If I even hear a single word of your misbehaviour, it’ll be an entire day spent in the vault!’

His father’s threatening words echoed menacingly in his head, his mind like an empty cave except for the haunting remarks that bounced off its despondent walls. The only way for his father to hear of any misbehaving is if his mother told on them but… Sirius chances a brief glance up at you, only to be met by your kind smile. Quick as lightning, Sirius looks away with a clench of his hand around yours. His mother isn’t like that now, though…right?

As the three of you pass windows displaying cauldrons, brooms, and a myriad of magical trinkets, Sirius’ mind raced with possibilities. What spells would he learn? Who would he meet? And would he make good friends with them? What house would he be sorted into? He hopes not Slytherin, it was what his entire family had been sorted into but he doesn’t want to be like them – never like them. Would he be able to play Quidditch, his mother always used to say that it was too violent and rambunctious of a sport to be associated with. Will he like his teachers? Will he enjoy his classes? The future was a mysterious, unopened book, and Sirius, although slightly hesitant, still bound to expectations, was ready to turn the first page.

As you step through the towering bronze doors of Gringotts, a shiver of awe runs down your spine. The splendour of the entrance hall was breathtaking, with gleaming marble floors and towering pillars that seemed to reach up into the heavens – as opulent a building should be that holds secure a multitude of treasures and ancient artefacts whilst being guarded by a ferocious dragon.

Goblins, sharp-eyed and meticulous, worked behind large, ornate desks – tall and domineering. Their long, dexterous fingers moved swiftly as they counted coins and scribbled in large ledgers, busy but happily so when surrounded by so much gold. The air was filled with the clinks of coins and the soft murmur of transactions, bank-speak, typical and not too far from the banks of ‘muggles’. High above, the cavernous ceiling was illuminated by shimmering crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow over everything, fitting for the amount of gold glittering beneath it. It was a complimentary union, one that oozed lavishness. Even the air smelled rich and you wondered if gold dust was dancing in it too. The atmosphere was one of ancient power and impenetrable security, safe and anchored. As you walked further in, you could feel the weight of centuries of wizarding history envelope you, it was unmistakably a place where secrets and fortunes were both hidden and revealed.

Approaching a vacant desk, you steady your breath and quickly recite your introduction in your head before elegantly performing it. You first drop into a low but graceful bow and repeat your greeting from memory, “Greetings Master Goblin, may your gold prosper and your enemies fail against your blade, I am Madam Black,” with bated breath, you wait for his reply, hoping that uttering your family name was enough.

“Madame Black, I am Filgus. What can I do for you today?” the goblin hid his surprise well. It was unusual to receive such a polite and formal greeting from the Matriarch of the infamous Black family. The surprise was pleasant but also carried with it a fair share of warning. Odd behaviour never bode well. Filgus was determined to not let anything pass, his pride as a Goblin demanded it be so.

“I would like to withdraw from the family vault,” you explain and hand over the key Orion had

“Very well,” Filgus accepts the key and moves to dismount his desk, “follow me to the carts,” you’re immediately reminded of the movie scene, where the speed and twisting passage of the cart made Hagrid sick, even as a half giant.

“Is it safe for the children?” you fret instinctively. Maternal instincts, a previously dormant part of your nature now expressed in the most spontaneous but opportune ways.

Filgus snarls in offence but bites his tongue as best he could, “I assure you Madame Black that Gringotts is one of the safest establishments to exist in the wizarding world,”

Not wanting to offend the goblin further, you nod with some hesitancy and keep your boys close. The fact that you worried for them made their little hearts flutter as their cheeks heated into a delicate pink hue. It was unusual for them to experience such care and worry but it still made them feel good. Turning to each other, they observe their identical reactions and bite their lips to keep from grinning too widely.

The journey to the vault was as winding and twisting as you remembered in the films. It was equal parts frightening and thrilling. The experience was exactly like that of a rollercoaster but without as strict of a regard to safety. If only the path was better lit, maybe that would have made the journey a little more pleasant.

“Here we are,” Filgus announces, stepping off the cart and politely asking for the lamp. You oblige and slowly follow him out of the cart, steadying yourself before you help Sirius and Regulus out too, “your key, Madam Black?” Filgus sets about opening your vault door as you turn to the boys and check their welfare.

“Are you alright, my darlings?” you ask in a soft whisper, kneeling before them.

In all honesty, Sirius had enjoyed the ride down, the twists and turns and perilous speed made his head spin in the most delightful sense but he’s grown to like you worrying for him more than that temporary thrill. So, with a pitiful look on his face, he shakes his head ‘no’ and slowly begins to stretch his arms open.

“It was scary…” Sirius whispers, taking advantage of the cold underground temperature to make his voice shake in ‘fear’.

“Oh darling,” you coo softly and bring him into your arms, “it’s okay, you’re okay,” Sirius smiles into your shoulder and allows himself to cling onto you like he’s always secretly dreamed of doing. This feeling of safety and security was one he didn’t ever want to let go of. Over your shoulder, Regulus gapes at the affectionate scene and, although it goes against his moral code of lying, he musters up the sly courage his older brother so easily displayed.

“M-me too, mother,” Regulus calls for your attention in a bashful whisper, “I was scared too,” your kind, understanding smile eases his nerves Regulus jumps into your arms as soon as you open up to accommodate his small frame.

This didn’t count as misbehaving, right? Only they knew whether or not they were truly scared or not…

The bell above the door tinkled softly, happily announcing your arrival as you pushed open the creaky, unassuming entrance into Ollivander’s, the most renowned wand shop in all of Diagon Alley. It made you giddy just thinking about getting to meet the whimsical shop owner and wand artisan.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wood and magic, a combination that seemed to tickle the very edges of your senses. Your fingers itched to grasp at wand, your nose scrunched up at the pleasantly ancient scent permeating the air and your eyes surveyed the room with an eager gleam. The shop was narrow and cramped, yet it felt infinitely deep, with towering shelves that stretched up into the shadows. Each floor to ceiling shelving unit was crammed with thousands of slender boxes, their organisation questionable but fitting for such an antiquated establishment. Dim light filtered through the dusty windows, casting a mystical glow over everything. The walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient trees and magical cores, each wand holding the promise of a unique bond, waiting to be discovered and pledged to its chosen master. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could hear Sirius’ heart pounding with the thrilling but nervous realisation that among the wondrous collection of boxes, one held a wand that was meant solely for him. It would be special and unequalled to anything else – an incomparable affiliation

Mr. Ollivander, with his pale, incisive eyes emerged from the shadows like a wisp of memory, his movements as silent and fluid as a ghost, a jolly ghost supporting a fanciful smile. His gaze takes in your sons, to which he gives a thoughtful hum before fixing his stare onto you.

“Madame Black…” Mr. Ollivander observes you with open curiosity, peaking the interest of your two boys, their diamond grey eyes watching the interaction silently and with overflowing intrigue, “having trouble with your wand?” his quick deduction makes your breath hitch and your shoulders tense. The impish gleam in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you, “it’s very peculiar for a wand that has already chosen its master to change its mind, especially from a wand that’s so loyal,” he ponders aloud as Sirius and Regulus inch closer to your sides, clinging onto the fabric of your dress skirt as they heed Ollivander’s nebulous words with a hint of caution, “curious, very curious indeed... I could only think of one reason, an abstruse but entirely possible reason for such a contingency in a world of magic…” Ollivander leans forward and looks deeply into your eyes, his own dancing about in their search, for what, you don’t have a clue. But it feels as though he can see into your soul, the flicker in his eyes detecting the presence of another. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief but laughs merrily, easing the tension built up in the air, “not one, but two, I see…”

Your heart shudders in your chest. Did he know?

NEXT. | 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : i would like to say that i was planning to delay this chapter update for a day or two since i was an absolute muppet to myself and decided to switch up events in the plot and oc introductions last minute but, thanks to @urmomw4ntsme (amazing username btw (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )) and their message about being excited for the update, i was lovingly and innocently pushed into getting the update out on time ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) so thank you, my darling haha! i appreciate your perfectly timed, kind message. i hope you darlings enjoyed the read and forgive me for splitting this chapter up into 2 parts - i suppose i planned for too much in one chapter hehe~

TAGLIST : @katdahlali @skepvids @agent-tempest @timhalamet @lovelybaka @cherrysxuya @ttulipwritezz @ireallywannasleep127 @cloudlst @fortheeeefics @younmey @googie-jeon @unstablereader @cassie6392 @kneelforloki @enamoredwithbella @arcanumofthestars @bookworm124 @sonics-atelier @yours-truly-maya @honkravenous @theunwcnted @venuseuripedis @fredsbetch @iciel @anuncalledbridge @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @fallencrescentmoon @topaz125 @xxrougefangxx @starchaser-lily @probablypossesedbysatan @agent-tempest @veryberryjelly @th3-st4r-gur1 @sousydive @delusional-4-fake-people @linaax

#sirius black #regulus black #marauders era fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders #harry potter fix it au #marauders era fix it fic #orion black #walburga black #sirius black fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #regulus black fluff #divorcing orion black series

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brehaaorgana · 1 year ago

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ADHD money/budgeting system I'm currently using for my benefit is going well (I've been using it for like half a year now?), and I wanna recommend it.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT. 10/10 do recommend. Uhhh rambling about it and my generic disclaimers + gushing extensively under the cut but TL;DR I think it's great for ADHD ppl, I've used it for 6+ months now and I find it super SUPER helpful. also weirdly fun.

DISCLAIMERS:

Budgeting helps you understand/know your money, it can't make money appear where there is none.

Everyone should learn to budget even if you don't have much money (especially then)

This is NOT a magic trick solution. Just like everything else, it is an assistive tool. This is one of those adult things we can't simply opt out of without negative consequences, though.

My advice is based on something I am currently able to do. That is, I can spend an amount of money on this specific thing that works well for me. If you have no extra money to spend then previously I was tracking things in a notebook. So you can still do this.

I believe Dave Ramsey is a fundie fraud/hack and no one should listen to him about money.

DID YOU KNOW THEY CANCELLED MINT???

Okay? OKAY.

Ahem.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT.

It is called YNAB for short. The first 34 days are your free trial, and that is my referral link. If anyone uses it and then signs up for a subscription, we both get a month free. Also you can share a subscription with up to six people (account owner can see everything but individuals can pick and choose what they share amongst each other) so like...idk your whole polycule can be on one account. Or your kids. Whatever.

If you are a student, it's free for a year. If you aren't, a subscription is $99 for a year (paid all at once) or $14.99 monthly, which is equivalent to paying Amazon prime. Go cancel Prime and get this instead tbh.

They got a whole article just on ynab and ADHD. They also have like...a big variety of ways to access their info? They have a book, podcast episodes, YouTube videos, blog posts, q&A's, free live workshops you can join (you can request live captioning), emails they can send (if you want) a wiki, and so on. They got workshops on all kinds of topics!!

So whatever ends up working for your brain. It also has a matching app.

If you lost Mint this year they have a gajillion things for moving from Mint.

Also they have a "got five minutes?" Page which has a slider so you can decide how much attention/time you have before going on lol:

They only have 4 rules of the budget, they're simple and practical, and it doesn't get judgey or like...mean about your spending.

1. Give every dollar a job 2. Embrace your true expenses 3. Roll with the punches 4. Age your money.

THEN THEY BREAK THESE DOWN INTO SMALL STEPS FOR YOU! They even have a printable! Also these rules are great because there's built in expectations that things WILL HAPPEN and it's NOT all or nothing with a fear of total collapse into failure. Reality and The Plan don't always align, especially if you have ADHD. So it's directing our energy towards the true expenses and not clinging to The Plan!! over reality.

You can automate a lot of shit (you can sync with your bank accounts just like mint, but also automate tagging the categories of regular expenses/transactions). And if for whatever reason you accidentally do something that makes the budget look weird or wrong:

A) you can usually fix it somehow OR b) they have like, a button you can press that gives you a clean slate and archives the previous version of the budget for you.

So if you forget for a few weeks or months, or accidentally input something wildly wrong, or just don't want to look at a really terrible month anymore and feel like you need a fresh start you can usually either fix it or start fresh which is really nice.

The app also (for whatever reason) scratches my itch to have things like...have incentives or little game-like goals in a way mint never did? I don't know why. Filling up the bars or putting money into the categories to cover my expenses is satisfying lmao. You can also make a big wish expense category for all the fun shit you want, and fund it whenever you can and then you can see the little bar go up and that's fun.

Anyways I've been using it for like 6+ months now and I think it's really helped me when I use it.

#adhd #adhd money #adult adhd #ynab #adhd blogging

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novaursa · 1 month ago

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Flames in the West (for better or worse)

- Summary: During the royal hunt in honor of Aegon's second nameday, you insult a lion and gain his attention.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: his rock

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The journey back to King’s Landing was marked by golden sunlight filtering through the trees, the steady clatter of hooves on the dirt path, and the ever-present bickering between you and Jason Lannister. The man seemed utterly incapable of silence, trailing your horse like a particularly persistent shadow.

“Really, Princess,” Jason began, his tone teasing, “do you always wear such practical clothing? You’ll find Casterly Rock has little use for muddy boots and hunting gear.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your reins. “Forgive me, Lord Jason, but I hadn’t realized I needed to start dressing for an audience of stone lions.”

Jason chuckled, his golden hair catching the light. “Stone lions, real lions—it’s all the same. A lady of your standing deserves silks and jewels to match her beauty.”

You arched an eyebrow, smirking. “I suppose you think I should be draped in Lannister crimson as well?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Jason replied with a grin. “Red and gold suit you.”

“Red and gold suit you, my lord,” you shot back. “I’ll wear what I please, and you can thank the gods I don’t show up at Casterly Rock in dragon scales.”

Jason’s laugh was loud and genuine, earning a few glances from the Lannister retainers riding behind. “Now that’s an image,” he said, clearly picturing it. “You’d frighten the servants half to death.”

“Perhaps that’s the point,” you quipped. “It would make up for the fact that I’m being dragged to your oversized pile of rocks.”

Jason placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Oversized pile of rocks? Princess, Casterly Rock is a marvel of the Seven Kingdoms! Wait until you see it—you’ll change your tune.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you muttered, though your lips twitched in amusement.

The banter continued for hours, ranging from the superiority of lion sigils versus dragon banners to the merits of hunting stags versus boars. Jason seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, his grin never faltering no matter how sharp your words became. You suspected he was intentionally prolonging the exchange, as though every quip of yours was a treasure to him.

By the time the Lannisters reached the fork in the road where they would part ways to return westward, the procession slowed. Jason dismounted, his crimson cloak billowing behind him as he approached your horse.

“This is where we part, Princess,” he announced with exaggerated solemnity. “For now.”

You tilted your head, feigning surprise. “You mean I’ll finally get a moment’s peace?”

Jason smirked, looking up at you with those ever-confident eyes. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll be preparing Casterly Rock for your arrival.”

“Preparing it?” you echoed, your tone skeptical. “What does that even mean? Polishing the stones?”

Jason laughed, shaking his head. “Hardly. I’ll have the halls filled with music, the chambers adorned with the finest tapestries, and the kitchens stocked with Dornish wine—all to make it worthy of you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his audacity, leaning slightly forward in your saddle. “You’d better be careful, Lord Jason. If you keep this up, I might start to believe you.”

“Good,” he replied simply, his grin softening into something almost genuine. “Because I mean every word.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily without a retort. Jason seemed to notice, his grin widening once more. He took a step back, bowing with dramatic flair.

“Until next we meet, Princess,” he said, mounting his horse with practiced ease. “And when you see Casterly Rock, you’ll realize what an excellent decision you’ve made.”

“You’re assuming I’ll even make it that far without changing my mind,” you called after him, though your tone was more playful than cutting.

Jason turned his horse with a flourish, raising a hand in farewell. “I’ll take my chances.”

As the Lannister party rode off, Rhaenyra pulled her horse alongside yours, a knowing smirk on her lips. “He’s relentless, isn’t he?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Relentless and insufferable.”

Rhaenyra laughed, clearly unconvinced. “And yet, I’ve never seen you smile so much on a journey.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came. Instead, you turned your attention to the road ahead, Jason’s laughter still echoing faintly behind you.

The sun rose over the cliffs of Casterly Rock, casting its light over the sprawling fortress as its lord, Jason Lannister, paced through the Great Hall with all the grace of a lion trapped in a cage. Servants scurried around him, their arms laden with tapestries, wine casks, and golden candelabras, while Jason barked orders like a commander preparing for battle.

“No, no, no!” Jason exclaimed, pointing at a newly hung tapestry depicting a lion surrounded by roses. “This is all wrong. Where’s the one with the lion and the dragon? The dragon, Roderick, not a bloody garden party!”

Roderick, the steward of Casterly Rock, adjusted his spectacles and sighed. “My lord, the lion-and-dragon tapestry is still being embroidered. It won’t be ready for another fortnight.”

Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “What am I supposed to do with roses? She’ll think I’ve gone soft.”

Tyland Lannister, who arrived one moon ago to assist his twin, leaned against a nearby pillar, watching the chaos unfold with a smirk. “Perhaps she’ll think you’ve developed a love for horticulture. Isn’t that charming?”

“Not helping, Tyland,” Jason snapped, gesturing wildly at the hall. “This has to be perfect. The princess deserves the finest welcome Casterly Rock has ever seen.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow, sipping leisurely from a goblet of wine. “And you think she’ll notice the difference between one tapestry and another? From what I’ve seen, she’s more likely to mock you for fussing over it.”

Jason paused mid-step, his expression turning thoughtful. “You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Tyland replied, clearly enjoying himself. “But don’t let that stop you. Your suffering is highly entertaining.”

Jason rolled his eyes and turned to a group of servants struggling to arrange an elaborate floral display in the shape of a lion’s head. “Higher on the mane! It looks like it’s sulking! And where’s the gold thread for the eyes?”

A young maid curtsied nervously. “My lord, the gold thread is being used for the banners in the courtyard.”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “Banners? Who’s looking at banners when there’s going to be a lion made of flowers in the hall? Priorities, people!”

Tyland chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re going to exhaust half the servants before she even arrives.”

Jason shot him a glare but didn’t have time to retort as the steward returned with a scroll listing the preparations. “The kitchens are finalizing the feast, my lord,” Roderick reported. “Roast boar, Dornish pears, and the finest Arbor gold. We’ve also prepared a selection of the princess’s favorites, including lemon cakes and—”

“Wait,” Jason interrupted, holding up a hand. “Did you confirm she actually likes lemon cakes?”

Roderick frowned, adjusting his spectacles again. “Er… no, my lord. I assumed—”

“Don’t assume!” Jason barked, pacing again. “What if she hates them? What if she’s allergic? Gods, imagine if she took one bite and—”

“And choked to death before the wedding?” Tyland offered helpfully. “Now that would be memorable.”

Jason groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re insufferable,” Tyland replied, clearly unbothered. “But do go on. This is the most fun I’ve had in moons.”

Ignoring his brother, Jason turned back to Roderick. “Forget the lemon cakes. Just stick to the Arbor gold and the roasted boar. And don’t burn anything!”

As the hours passed, Jason inspected every corner of the Rock, from the newly polished golden lion statues in the courtyard to the lavish guest chambers prepared for the royal family. He even ventured into the kitchens, where the head cook waved a ladle threateningly until Jason backed out, muttering about “artistic temperaments.”

By the time the sun began to set, Jason was standing atop the walls of Casterly Rock, his crimson cloak billowing in the sea breeze as he scanned the horizon. Tyland joined him, his usual smirk firmly in place.

“They’ll be here soon,” Tyland remarked, gesturing to the distant road winding through the hills. “Still time to add a few more flowers.”

Jason ignored the jab, his eyes narrowing as he spotted movement on the horizon. “There,” he said, pointing. “The royal procession.”

Sure enough, a long column of banners and carriages was snaking its way toward the castle, the Targaryen sigil gleaming in the fading light. Jason’s heart raced as he imagined her among them, her sharp tongue ready to flay him alive if anything was out of place.

Tyland clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling. “Relax, brother. If you’ve survived her insults this long, a wedding should be easy.”

Jason let out a breath, his nerves warring with excitement. “Easy for you to say. You’re not marrying a Targaryen.”

“And thank the gods for that,” Tyland quipped. “Good luck, Jason. You’re going to need it.”

Jason stood tall, a determined grin spreading across his face. “Luck has nothing to do with it. Casterly Rock is ready.”

The procession drew closer, the banners fluttering in the wind as the Lannisters prepared to welcome their royal guests. Jason adjusted his cloak one last time, his heart pounding as he prepared to greet the woman who would soon be his bride.

The courtyard of Casterly Rock was a hive of activity as the royal procession finally arrived. Jason Lannister stood at the gates, flanked by his brother Tyland and an entourage of Lannister bannermen, their golden banners billowing in the warm breeze. The royal party entered in a slow, regal procession, the sound of hooves echoing against the stone walls.

King Viserys rode at the head, his crown glinting in the sunlight, followed by Queen Alicent, holding a fidgeting Prince Aegon. Rhaenyra rode close behind, her fiery gaze scanning the courtyard with faint amusement. The Targaryen knights followed, their armor shining as brightly as the dragon banners trailing behind them.

Jason stepped forward, his expression carefully composed, though his heart pounded in his chest. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing deeply to King Viserys. “Welcome to Casterly Rock. It is an honor to host you and your family.”

Viserys smiled warmly, dismounting with some effort before clasping Jason’s shoulder. “The honor is ours, Lord Jason. You’ve prepared magnificently.”

Jason’s grin widened, and he straightened to address the rest of the royal party, his eyes scanning the procession. He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. “Where is the princess?” he asked, his tone polite but edged with curiosity.

Rhaenyra smirked, her eyes glittering with mischief as she swung down from her horse. “Missing her already, Lord Jason? My sister will arrive soon enough.”

Jason frowned, glancing at her, then at Viserys. “She didn’t travel with you?”

Viserys chuckled, his tone reassuring. “There’s no need to fret, my boy. Y/N is… making an entrance.”

Jason blinked, his mind racing. “An entrance?”

“On dragonback,” Rhaenyra said, her voice laced with humor. “Surely you didn’t expect her to leave her dragon behind?”

Jason’s jaw slackened slightly, but he recovered quickly, forcing a smile. “I hadn’t considered it,” he admitted, though his voice betrayed his unease.

Tyland, standing beside him, muttered under his breath, “Well, you did say you wanted a dragon.”

Jason shot his brother a glare, but before he could respond, a deep, resonant roar echoed across the sky. The Lannister bannermen shifted uneasily, their horses whinnying in protest as the sound reverberated through the courtyard.

Jason turned sharply, his eyes scanning the horizon. “What in the Seven Hells—”

Rhaenyra interrupted with a smug grin. “Ah, there she is.”

A shadow passed over the sun as your dragon, Sylveris, appeared on the horizon. She was a magnificent she-dragon, her scales shimmering like molten silver in the daylight, flecked with faint streaks of gold that rippled as she moved. Her wings were vast, their translucent membranes catching the light and casting shimmering patterns over the ground as she soared closer. Her long, sinuous tail ended in a sharp, golden barb, and her golden eyes burned with intelligence and fierce pride. The spikes along her back glinted like a crown, and her roar was like thunder, commanding and unyielding.

Sylveris descended gracefully, her massive claws kicking up dust as she landed just beyond the gates. The ground seemed to tremble beneath her weight, and the Lannister knights instinctively stepped back, their hands tightening on the hilts of their swords.

Jason stood rooted to the spot, staring up at the beast with a mix of awe and apprehension. “By the gods…” he murmured.

Rhaenyra leaned toward him, her tone mocking but amused. “You didn’t think she’d come in a carriage, did you?”

Before Jason could reply, Sylveris lowered her neck, allowing you to dismount with practiced ease. You stood tall, your riding leathers bearing the Targaryen sigil, your silver hair flowing in the breeze. The confidence in your stride as you approached was unmistakable, and the faint smirk on your lips suggested you’d been looking forward to this moment.

“Lord Jason,” you greeted, your voice calm but commanding. “I hope my arrival hasn’t caused too much of a stir.”

Jason quickly gathered himself, bowing deeply. “Princess Y/N,” he said, his voice steady despite his racing heart. “Casterly Rock is honored by your… dramatic entrance.”

You arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Dramatic? I thought it was appropriate. Sylveris insisted on accompanying me.”

Jason glanced nervously at the dragon, who was now watching him intently, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. “I see. She’s… magnificent.”

Rhaenyra laughed softly from behind you. “Get used to it, Lord Jason. Sylveris doesn’t leave her side.”

Jason straightened, his confidence returning as he met your gaze. “I look forward to seeing more of her,” he said, his tone earnest. “And of you, Princess.”

You inclined your head, though the faintest smile tugged at your lips. “We’ll see how you fare, Lord Jason.”

As you turned to join your family, Jason remained rooted to the spot, his gaze shifting between you and your dragon. Tyland stepped closer, his expression caught between disbelief and amusement.

“Well,” Tyland said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “You wanted a dragon, and now you’ve got two. Congratulations.”

Jason exhaled slowly, straightening his doublet as he watched you disappear into the castle. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he muttered, though the nervous edge in his voice betrayed him.

Behind him, Sylveris let out a low rumble, almost as if in answer.

The great hall of Casterly Rock had never been more resplendent. Crimson and gold banners bearing the Lannister lion draped the towering stone walls, interspersed with black and red sigils of House Targaryen. Hundreds of candles flickered in ornate chandeliers, casting a warm, golden glow over the sea of assembled guests. The air was filled with the mingling scents of freshly cut roses, polished wood, and roasted meats from the kitchens below.

Jason Lannister stood near the altar, flanked by his brother Tyland and several Lannister cousins, his palms slightly damp despite his composed demeanor. His golden doublet was embroidered with a roaring lion, and his usually unruly blond hair had been tamed—though Tyland had already teased him about the absurd amount of effort it took.

“You look like you’re preparing to face a battle,” Tyland whispered, smirking.

Jason shot him a look. “It feels like one.”

Tyland chuckled, adjusting his own cloak. “If you faint, just try to fall gracefully. The guests might assume it’s part of the ceremony.”

Jason ignored him, straightening his shoulders as the crowd quieted. The sound of the great doors opening echoed through the hall, and every head turned to see the procession begin.

King Viserys entered first, his crown gleaming as brightly as the smile on his face. He walked beside Queen Alicent, who carried a squirming Prince Aegon, who had managed to smudge dirt on his tunic despite her best efforts. Behind them was Rhaenyra, radiant in crimson and gold, her smirk evident as she scanned the hall. Jason caught her eye briefly and immediately regretted it—her expression promised trouble.

And then, you appeared.

The room seemed to hold its breath as you stepped forward, your gown shimmering like molten silver. Threads of red and gold wove through the fabric, catching the light with every step. A delicate crown rested atop your silver hair, and your piercing gaze swept the hall with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly the effect they had. Behind you, the faint scent of dragonfire lingered, a subtle reminder of Sylveris, who had taken to perching atop the highest cliff of the Rock.

Jason’s breath caught as he watched you approach, his nerves momentarily forgotten. You met his gaze briefly, your expression unreadable save for the faintest hint of amusement.

“You’re doomed,” Tyland murmured beside him, though there was no malice in his tone. “She’s magnificent.”

Jason didn’t respond. He already knew that.

The septon stood before the altar, resplendent in his robes, though he seemed slightly nervous. Perhaps it was the presence of King Viserys, or the looming shadow of Sylveris visible through the arched windows, but his hands trembled slightly as he began the rites.

“Today,” the septon announced, his voice echoing in the hall, “we join two great houses: the mighty lion of Casterly Rock and the indomitable dragon of House Targaryen.”

Rhaenyra leaned toward Alicent, whispering something that made the queen purse her lips. Jason, standing at the altar, tried to ignore it, though his curiosity burned.

As the septon continued, Jason risked a glance at you. You stood beside him, composed and regal, though there was a faint gleam of mischief in your eyes. When the septon asked if you accepted the union, you tilted your head slightly, as though considering it, before answering.

“I do,” you said, your voice carrying across the hall.

Jason’s heart nearly stopped when the crowd chuckled softly. Even in this moment, you were playing with him.

“And you, Lord Jason Lannister?” the septon prompted.

Jason cleared his throat, managing a steady, “I do.”

Tyland coughed behind him, muttering, “Barely.”

As tradition dictated, the septon wrapped a ribbon of red and gold around your joined hands. The ribbon, woven specially for the occasion, was said to symbolize the blending of fire and gold—a union of strength and passion.

“May the Seven bless this union,” the septon intoned, though he seemed to be glancing nervously at the arched windows again, where Sylveris had let out a low rumble moments earlier.

Jason tightened his grip on your hand slightly, and you glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Nervous, my lord?”

“Not in the slightest,” Jason replied, though the faint sheen of sweat on his brow betrayed him.

“Liar,” you murmured, your lips twitching into the faintest smile.

Finally, the septon raised his hands. “You may seal your union.”

Jason turned to you, his heart pounding. He hesitated for the briefest moment, then leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was both tentative and reverent. The crowd erupted into cheers, though Jason barely heard them. For that moment, it was just the two of you, the fire and the lion.

When he pulled back, you arched an eyebrow again. “Not bad,” you whispered. “For a lion.”

Jason couldn’t help but laugh, the sound filled with relief and joy. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As the ceremony concluded, the crowd rose to their feet, applauding as you and Jason turned to walk down the aisle. The combined banners of House Lannister and House Targaryen hung above the hall, and the guests murmured among themselves about the strength of the union.

Rhaenyra caught your arm as you passed, leaning in to whisper, “He looked like he was about to faint.”

“I noticed,” you replied, smirking.

Jason overheard and shot Rhaenyra a pointed look, but she merely winked and stepped back, letting you and your new husband continue your procession.

As you left the great hall, Jason glanced at you, his smile softening. “You didn’t make that easy.”

“I didn’t intend to,” you replied, though your tone was lighter now, the edge of amusement lingering.

Jason laughed, shaking his head. “Then I suppose I’ll have to get used to it.”

You glanced at him sidelong, your expression unreadable once more. “You’ll have to do more than that, my lord. But perhaps you’ll surprise me.”

And with that, the dragon and the lion stepped into their new life together, the roar of Sylveris echoing faintly in the distance as if to mark the occasion.

The Great Hall of Casterly Rock was ablaze with music and laughter, the echoes of revelry bouncing off the gilded walls. The grand feast stretched out before the assembled lords and ladies, a decadent display of roasted meats, exotic fruits, and golden goblets brimming with Arbor gold. Lions—real lions—sat in golden cages positioned around the hall, their low growls occasionally punctuating the festivities.

At the center of it all sat the newlyweds. Jason Lannister and you occupied the high seats at the head of the table, framed by the banners of your respective houses. Jason leaned casually toward you, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Well, Lady Lannister,” he began, swirling his goblet of wine, “how does it feel to finally join the pride?”

You arched an eyebrow, your own goblet resting untouched in front of you. “It feels remarkably similar to being badgered by a persistent lord.”

Jason chuckled, undeterred. “Persistent, perhaps. But successful.”

“You only succeeded because the alternative was never hearing the end of it,” you retorted, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I had to accept, if only for my own sanity.”

Jason raised his goblet in a mock toast. “And here I thought it was my charm.”

“No,” you replied simply, though the glint in your eye betrayed your amusement. “It certainly wasn’t that.”

Jason laughed, leaning closer. “Admit it, Princess. You’d miss me if I hadn’t tried.”

“I’d miss the silence,” you quipped, sipping your wine as Jason placed a hand dramatically over his heart, feigning offense.

Further down the table, King Viserys observed the exchange with a bemused smile, his goblet resting comfortably in his hand. Beside him, Otto Hightower leaned in slightly, his sharp eyes scanning the opulent surroundings. “Lord Jason certainly spared no expense,” Otto remarked, gesturing subtly to the caged lions and the extravagant decorations. “The pomp of this wedding rivals even King’s Landing.”

Viserys chuckled, his gaze shifting back to you and Jason. “It’s clear the lad wanted to make an impression.”

“And yet,” Otto continued, his tone slightly dry, “they seem more interested in bickering than anything else.”

Viserys’s smile widened as he watched Jason lean closer to you, clearly enamored despite your sharp retorts. “Ah, but that’s the charm, isn’t it? A lion and a dragon—they’ll keep each other entertained.”

Back at the high table, a string of lords began stepping forward to offer their congratulations. The first was a balding lord from the Westerlands, his doublet embroidered with a modest sigil of a burning tree.

“Lord Jason, Princess—ah, forgive me, Lady Lannister,” the man stammered, bowing deeply. “Congratulations on your union. May it bring strength and prosperity to both your houses.”

Jason nodded graciously. “Thank you, Lord Denys. Your loyalty is always appreciated.”

The man turned to you, his nervousness evident. “My lady, if there’s anything the Westerlands can offer you, you need only ask.”

You inclined your head politely. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

As Lord Denys stepped away, Jason leaned toward you once more. “You’re already charming the lords of the Rock.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you replied, your tone dry. “He’s terrified of the lions in the cages.”

Jason grinned, glancing toward one of the massive beasts lounging lazily behind golden bars. “A fitting addition, don’t you think? Nothing says ‘welcome to Casterly Rock’ like a lion or two.”

“Or ten,” you muttered, glancing around the hall. “I half expect one to escape just to prove a point.”

Jason laughed, clearly delighted. “If it does, I’ll protect you, of course.”

“How brave of you,” you deadpanned, earning another hearty laugh from your husband.

As the next lord approached—a stout man with a nose that seemed permanently red from drink—Rhaenyra caught your eye from further down the table. She raised her goblet in a silent toast, her smirk unmistakable. You narrowed your eyes at her briefly, knowing full well she was reveling in the sight of you seated beside Jason.

The stout lord launched into a rambling speech about the glory of House Lannister, but you barely heard him. Jason had leaned in again, this time under the pretense of adjusting his goblet, and you could feel his attention entirely fixed on you.

“You’re staring,” you muttered, not looking at him.

“Am I?” he asked innocently. “Perhaps I’m just admiring my bride.”

You turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to flatter me, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Jason grinned, leaning just a fraction closer. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

At the other end of the table, Viserys chuckled softly, shaking his head. “The man’s completely smitten,” he said to Otto, who only sighed.

“He certainly doesn’t lack for enthusiasm,” Otto replied.

The feast continued, filled with laughter, music, and the occasional roar from the caged lions. And though you wouldn’t admit it, you found yourself smiling more than once—not just at the festivities, but at the ridiculous, endearing man seated beside you.

The feast at Casterly Rock reached its crescendo as the last of the dishes were cleared away and the minstrels struck up a lively tune. The hall echoed with laughter, clinking goblets, and the occasional roar from one of the caged lions, who seemed less impressed with the festivities than the guests. Jason Lannister sat beside you at the high table, his golden goblet raised as he toasted yet another well-wisher. You were beginning to feel the weight of the evening, though Jason seemed buoyed by the sheer energy of the crowd.

As the music swelled, a particularly boisterous lord from the Reach stumbled to his feet, raising his goblet high. “A toast!” he bellowed, his voice slurring slightly. “To the lion and the dragon! May their union be as fiery as it is golden!”

The hall erupted in cheers, and Jason leaned toward you with a grin. “It seems they’ve taken a liking to us.”

You smirked, swirling the wine in your goblet. “Or they’ve taken a liking to the wine.”

Jason laughed, though the mirth in his eyes flickered briefly into something more cautious as another lord—a Lannister bannerman this time—rose to his feet.

“And now!” the bannerman shouted, his cheeks flushed with drink. “It’s time for the bedding ceremony!”

The room erupted in a cacophony of cheers, whistles, and laughter. Lords pounded their fists on the tables, and ladies covered their mouths with their hands, their eyes sparkling with mischief. Jason froze, his goblet halfway to his lips, while you raised an eyebrow, your expression cooling into something dangerously calm.

Jason recovered quickly, holding up a hand in mock protest. “Now, now, surely we can skip that tradition this evening.”

“Skip it?” a burly knight called from a lower table. “What’s a wedding without a proper bedding? It’s tradition, my lord!”

The crowd roared its agreement, and you turned to Jason, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, Lord Lannister, it seems your bannermen are eager to see this through.”

Jason chuckled nervously, setting his goblet down. “I’m not sure this is entirely necessary—”

“Oh, it’s necessary,” Rhaenyra interjected, stepping forward from her seat at the king’s table, her smirk as sharp as Valyrian steel. “It’s not every day my sister gets married. Why deprive us of the entertainment?”

“Rhaenyra,” you said warningly, shooting her a glare. “Don’t.”

She held up her hands innocently. “What? I’m merely supporting tradition.”

Before Jason could reply, a group of lords surged toward the high table, clearly emboldened by the call for the ceremony. The ladies weren’t far behind, their laughter ringing out as they began plotting how best to assist you in the “removal” of your wedding attire.

Jason stood abruptly, raising his hands in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “Friends, let’s not get carried away!”

“Oh, we’re just getting started!” a younger lord from House Tarbeck shouted, grinning wickedly.

Two burly knights grabbed Jason by the arms, dragging him down from the high table despite his protests. “You’ll regret this!” he called, though his laughter betrayed him as he was swept into the throng of revelers. They cheered loudly as they began pulling at his doublet, the golden fabric slipping free as Jason half-heartedly struggled against them.

Meanwhile, the ladies turned their attention to you, their smiles deceptively sweet as they approached. “Come, Lady Lannister,” one of them cooed, her hands reaching for the delicate fastenings of your gown. “It’s all in good fun.”

You stepped back, your expression one of cold defiance. “If any of you touch this gown, I’ll set it—and you—on fire.”

The group hesitated, glancing nervously at each other. Rhaenyra, however, was thoroughly enjoying herself. “Let them try,” she teased, sipping her wine. “I’d pay to see Sylveris crash through the roof.”

The mention of your dragon seemed to give the ladies pause, and you seized the opportunity to step forward, your voice commanding. “Enough! This is ridiculous. The bedding ceremony is a relic of drunken lords with too much time and not enough sense.”

From across the hall, Jason—now missing one sleeve of his doublet—called out, “I agree with my wife!”

The crowd roared with laughter, and you couldn’t suppress a faint smirk as you turned to the group surrounding you. “If you want to carry someone to bed,” you said dryly, “feel free to toss Lord Tarbeck into the sea.”

Jason, still caught in the chaos, raised a hand. “Or Tyland! He deserves it more.”

Tyland, seated smugly at a nearby table, merely raised his goblet. “I’d like to see them try.”

Eventually, King Viserys stood, his voice cutting through the commotion. “Enough!” he commanded, though his tone carried more amusement than authority. “Let the newlyweds retire in peace. I’m sure they have… important matters to attend to.”

The crowd erupted into laughter again, but they began to disperse, releasing Jason from their clutches. Disheveled but grinning, he made his way back to the high table, adjusting what was left of his doublet as he sat beside you.

“Well,” he said, breathless but amused, “that went well.”

You shot him a look, though there was a faint smile on your lips. “You call that well?”

Jason shrugged, pouring himself another goblet of wine. “We survived, didn’t we? And besides, I think it’s safe to say they love us.”

“They love a spectacle,” you corrected, leaning back in your chair.

Jason grinned, raising his goblet in a toast. “To spectacles, then.”

You shook your head, muttering under your breath, though you clinked your goblet against his all the same. The feast continued, the chaos subsiding into a warm, golden glow of laughter and music, and for the first time that evening, you found yourself relaxing—if only slightly.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #hotd jason #jason lannister #jason x reader #jason x you #jason x y/n #flames in the west #house lannister #house targaryen

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mis-mcgifsten · 1 year ago

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Kenobi fetishism and Darth cupholders win the cracktastic award for hilarity.

struck by the idea where, For Reasons, plan saddest desert hermit doesn't get off the ground and team proto-rebellion have to pivot and pivot fast.

chucking the conspiracy equivalent of a uey at 100mph on the highway, and everyone involved is sleep deprived, stressed as fuck, and experiencing y'know, several levels of Devastating Grief.

the person with the brain cell is bail organa, a man who in canon spends like 20 fucking years playing ding dong ditch with a genocidal psychic space wizard and his boss, an even more genocidal space wizard. This man is not lacking in gumption, one can say. he is possessed of life threatening amounts of chutzpah, one might also say, except that he spends twenty years winning the ding dong ditch match with, again, a genocidal fascist dictatorship which includes two genocidal psychic space wizards who literally know he was in tight with the genocided group of space wizards plus the [mumble] number of other murderous genocidal space wizards, plus the rest of the non-space wizard space fascist cohort.

So. What does a man with a spine of steel, a heart as big as a planet, and more gumption than anyone should possess do, when plan 'split up the kids and hide the most famous man in the galaxy on the saddest hell planet' is a no go?

lie. lie like a fucking rug.

What's palpatine going to do? day one of the empire, his super awesome chosen one space wizard makeover project is still in progress and not yet wheezing his way into the galaxy's nightmares, and bail fucking organa strolls into the imperial senate with:

one (1) baby (female)

one (1) baby (male)

several (~20+) aides and various hangers on, including;

one (1) brown haired blue eyed man who could, if you squinted a bit, probably get third place in a general kenobi lookalike competition, were those now not super duper illegal

Sidious, of course, could be like A JEDI KILL HIM TRAITOR ETC, but, crucially, his wheezing attack dog is still on the lab table getting seven inches added to his height and cup holders installed, or whatever the fuck skeevy sheev added in as extras. Palpatine is an old guy who is still trading on being A Beloved Grandfather who was Reluctant To Take The Throne, and is still easing the galaxy into the whole, y'know, we're a fascist empire now, kneel or perish.

Palpatine, on day one of the empire, can't point at bail fucking organa and be like HABOURING A TRAITOR unless he is really, really sure, like 110% sure, because it's bail fucking organa and every goddamn senator will baulk like a horse at a plastic bag if he accuses, again, the senator of alderaan of high treason on day one of the empire.

A secret rebellion is fine, if not ideal; you can theoretically stamp it out, and, also, it's small, percentage wise.

The entire fucking galaxy thinking that, hey, if the guy in charge is going to go after fucking alderaan, what's to stop him going after us? bigger problem. huge problem. original trilogy kinda touched on that one. Day one of the empire, everyone is still basically on war footing, and fuck man, if alderaan is copping it....maybe this empire isn't great after all. maybe we can make our OWN empire, with a different emperor.

Would palps win? eh maybe. would it destroy all credibility forever and ever amen? yeah. the difference between a 'legally installed emperor' and 'a dictator we must overthrow' is how willing the galaxy is to lick boot, and there's not yet the fear of The Empire black bagging you to keep those tongues going.

so. palpatine can't say shit. palpatine can imply shit, palpatine can get his lackies to say shit. but, crucially, palpatine himself can't say fuck all about the goddamn kenobi lookalike that is now following after organa and wiping his kid's little butts and playing gofer and whatever else.

and what's more believable? bail fucking organa is hiding a traitor, or bail organa and his wife have a situationship with a guy who looks sort of a bit like a former general? the same kind of situationship that like, half the senate has had at one point or another with a guy (or guys) who looked sort of a bit like said ex-general. go to any high level business and/or political building, you'll find half a dozen guys who look vaguely like said hot ex-general, and many of them will have a more or less (often less) accurate coruscanti-ish accent. or will develop one.

(hey, it's a niche. gotta pay the bills somehow, and if you get the job because you dyed your hair and grew a beard, well, you're still using your political science degree, right?)

of course, that only holds for so long, but by that point it's been, y'know, a while. and that looks worse in a different way -- what, kenobi was fucking walking around in front of the whole imperial senate, and none of them noticed? absolutely not, all credibility is gone forever.

which means. that palpatine and the organas are stuck in a full on staring match about this guy who is 100% for sure not kenobi, because -- well. he can't be kenobi. becuase that would look bad. but also. it's kenobi. but also. it can't be kenobi.

(vader takes one look at this guy who looks like his master kenobi and then rolls his eyes, because he has already met aproximately 90,000 people who look vaugely like his master and he got very good at picking out how the newest one was not kenobi his master by the time he was a senior padawan.)

#fun fan fic #bail and breha organa #bail organa’s got moxie a queen for a wife two new kids and a hot third who looks like a wanted outlaw #palpy has an angry traumatized wizard on walking life support a billion brainwashed clones and a melted candle face lift special #and a galaxy quivering under his foot #quivering with both barely contained excitement to have only male humans in power and quivering in rage ready to be the Lego in his boot #the Lego that gives him a gangrenous abscess that kills him with a tremendous amount of embarrassment and pain #Previous tags of excellence

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sehaedazokla · 2 months ago

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he that dares

part seven

premise: Cregan Stark's arrival in King's Landing has brought a new type of chaos to the capital. Lady Tyrell is determined to use the Northern lord to her advantage, but the task might not be as straightforward as it seems.

tags: slowburn, tension, angst, comfort, eventual smut, court politics

word count: 10.0k

a/n: this chapter got a little longer than intended so grab some popcorn for this one and thank you to everyone who has sent asks / left comments on this work! i am having so much fun writing this and it is lovely that it is being enjoyed.

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Highgarden is recalled as a soft spring day upon Lady Tyrell’s mind. A clear afternoon spent tucked into a shaded passage underneath an archway of flowers, a thick book with aging pages raptly capturing her attention as a lute player’s song drifts over the hedges in melodical swirls. The evening winds upon her and her sister, barefoot and dressed in slips of light silks, running through fields of golden roses that stretch out endlessly until the sun sets into pinks and oranges and yellows against the horizon. Crystalline laughs, blithe and innocent, when she and the other young ladies would convince their parents to allow them to take gracefully carved boats out upon the Mander, weeping willows dipping over the river full of emerald grasses and brilliantly colored flowers that grow beneath the water’s surface. She can picture her mother, under the shade of a large and lacy parasol of pastel fabrics, who would occasionally lift one gloved hand to wave elegantly at her daughters from the banks.

As a child, her mother had been the very pinnacle of desired sophistication and grace. With easy charm and poise, the Lady of Highgarden can command any room simply by entering it. From the moment Lady Tyrell was born, it has been expected of her to carry herself with similar elegance. To shine, to play darling and enchant those she meets, to excel at all typical ladylike pursuits. Unfortunately for her, it had not all come naturally. But what she had not been blessed with upon her birth – an easygoing nature, a soft-spoken tongue, a quiet countenance – she found could be learned.

And as time passed, as she gained the perspective upon her parents that only time could provide, Lady Tyrell came to realize that she is certainly, undoubtedly, her mother’s daughter. What she had perceived as perfection as a child was actually patience. The ability to bide one’s time productively, to study oneself and to learn one’s flaws and weaknesses and those of their allies and enemies. When weaponized, patience and a sharp eye blossom into a spider’s web that ensnares unsuspecting prey lured in by the beauty of a blooming rose. How astutely the lady has watched this dance unfold beneath the glittering stars since her mother rose to power in Highgarden. The enemies of House Tyrell did not survive the succession war, although one could hardly say it solely happened by fate’s generous hands. Tongues that rose up against them soon found themselves choking and spitting over their words, poison sweet and lethal upon them.

If the Lady Tyrell is considered clever and fierce, these traits passed to her through her mother’s blood. When the hour draws late, the bells chiming and tolling out the highest point of the moon in the sky, she often wonders if she possesses as ruthless a spirit. She does not long for the day when that might be tested. To secure the safety of their family, of her children, Elinor Tyrell has tightened her grip upon her web, drawing in the flies and scorpions and snakes. Yet in her recent years, the Lady of Highgarden has grown more and more ambitious, eyes often cast to the winds of fortune and their ever-changing flow. With two eligible daughters, now would be the ideal time to firmly grasp power through advantageous betrothals.

Betrothals without consideration for the character of the men in question.

A letter of rolled parchment is gripped tightly within Lady Tyrell’s closed fist, her fingers crumpling the tan paper with a constricting hold. Peaking out from beneath her fingers is a wax seal of a single rose, the color of the darkest blue. As her shoes echo sharply within the decadent halls of the Red Keep, a spiked anxiety jumps rapidly underneath her skin. Her brows are drawn above her eyes, which dart from stone wall to marble pillar as her mind composes and discards a multiplicity of strategies that might convince her mother to abandon her quest for greater power. The more she considers the issue at hand, the more abrupt her steps grow. Once upon a time, when the notion of fairy tales was still harbored with childish hope in the cavity beneath her breastbone, she had spun similar designs for a far more romantic purpose. Childhood love, falsely and treacherously placed as it was, drove her nearly mad.

As she approaches the Queen’s Chambers, the guards immediately draw back from her path, nodding at her after growing quite accustomed to her presence in Maegor’s Holdfast. There is no need to question her being there after their liege lord has brought her past them on many a night. The early hour of the day does not seem to give them pause, nor does her agitated expression and pace. With the arrival of more nobles to the castle that very afternoon, notable allies of the Northern forces whom had recently finished with the remaining issues in the Riverlands, neither Cregan nor Lady Tyrell could surmise how much time the meetings might take as the upcoming trials were further discussed. Unwilling to allow a day to pass without seeing Jaehaera, she had inquired if Cregan might accompany her for a visit in the earlier hours of the day as opposed to their usual meetings which occurred after supper. The Lord of Winterfell had been swift in his granting of her request. She purposefully declined to dwell on how frequent and genuine his accommodations of her desires have become as of late.

So distraught by the contents of the letter in her hand, Lady Tyrell cannot even muster a saccharine smile to wax demurely across her face. The skirts of her morning gown swish in an angry rhythm across the cold floor, the noise prominent in the otherwise silent passageway. Once, this section of the castle had brimmed with busy servants and giggling ladies maids, clinging upon each other’s arms as their eyes shone with laughter and mischief. Now, it served only as place for ghosts and fragmented memories to linger in hazy and liminal echoes.

A frown creases upon her face at the sight of the arched oak door, already partially ajar. A warm ray of golden sunlight has snuck past the marble pillars upon the walkway overlooking the enclosed courtyard below, relaxing languorously before the doorway. Her steps draw to a halt before the wood, her unoccupied hand outstretched to press the pads of her fingertips against the smooth wood, the centers of her brows drawn together as she peers into the room. Before her eyes might inform her of anything, a voice that has grown all too familiar reaches her ears.

“Good, princess. Now attempt it once more.” The Lord of Winterfell’s low timbre, stern still albeit it considerably more gentle in that moment, fills her agitated mind as she pushes the door the remainder of the way open. Inside the extensive chambers of the room stand Cregan and Jaehaera, the latter of whom clutches a small wooden sword in her hands. The girl has an expression of utmost concentration upon her face as she swings the toy weapon through the air in front of her, her wide eyes immediately gazing up to the lord to inquire as to how she had performed. Her hair has been pulled back into a single braid, similar to the style the Lady Tyrell has often woven in the princess’ silvery locks. Cregan parts his lips to speak, the telltale raise of the corners of his lips signaling his approval, when both become alerted to the lady’s presence within the room. Jaehaera lights up immediately, a sweet smile upon her face as she lowers the sword. Cregan, in turn, finds his immediate softening at her arrival rapidly morph into hesitation when he sees the look upon her visage.

So familiar with her expressions has he become, that as Jaehaera hurries across the room to take Lady Tyrell by the hand and begin to explain what she has been learning, Cregan experiences a slight drop in his stomach at the tightness of her closed fists and the creases at the corners of her mouth. As the princess extends the pretend weapon for the lady to view, he wonders if she is angry with him for providing the young girl with lessons, no matter how rudimentary. Perhaps he has overstepped in his decision, in acting prior to consulting her first. With some effort, the lady gives Jaehaera a smile and nods as the girl continues to speak, but Cregan can surely perceive it to be forced. He shifts his weight to his alternate foot as he finds himself with the rare and uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty. A cool morning breeze blows the sheer curtains into the room further, billowing as if the sails of a boat.

Jaehaera reaches out a small hand to bequeath the wooden sword to Lady Tyrell as the princess wanders into the next room to retrieve a book in High Valyrian she has been reading, the lady’s eyes following the girl out of the main chamber. Only when Jaehaera has slipped through the connecting door does Cregan speak, his voice lowered to a deep hush so that the girl might not overhear. With a single step towards her, a squaring of his broad shoulders as his stern eyes search her face thoroughly, he attempts to phrase his intention clearly. “If I have overstepped, Lady Tyrell, I do apologize. I had only thought upon your own anxieties and wished to perhaps provide the princess with basic knowledge to defend herself.”

Lady Tyrell’s eyes widen as the words fall from his lips, her own parting in soft denial as she realizes how Cregan has interpreted her distressed stance and expression. Her shoulders lift and then sag as a portion of the weight from her turbulent thoughts escapes through a concentrated sigh and she intentionally loosens her hold upon the parchment clutched in her anxious hands. The movement causes light to catch the delicate gold jewelry atop her prominent collarbone, drawing attention when juxtaposed by the depth of the neckline of her gown. She can feel the parchment retaining its crushed shape from the strength with which she had been squeezing it.

“No,” It comes out as a weary breath, followed by a soft swallow and the brief closing of her eyes as she collects her thoughts that have been scattered about her brain like blushing petals from a spring tree. A hand reaches up to her forehead, lingering tiredly atop her skin as if the motion might vanquish the headache that has formed from her incessant worrying. Should she fret any longer, her skin will surely erupt into reddish hives that bloom across her arms like the remnants of a wayward flame. It is impossible to not be softened by the gentle look she had glimpsed in Cregan’s eyes as he had instructed the princess, by the way the girl has seemed to grow accustomed to Cregan’s presence slowly. For that brief moment she had witnessed them, uninterrupted by the world, she could tell at once how kind and attentive of a father Cregan must be to his own young son. It had seemed as natural as drawing breath, to spend time instructing and guiding the girl. “No, you are right to teach her. You have my gratitude for it, Lord Stark, please do not mistake me.”

In truth, she might rest easier at night with the knowledge that Jaehaera can at least make a valiant attempt at defending herself if something were to happen. She desperately wishes to keep weapons from the girl’s hand, considering her young age and the violent tragedies that have befallen her family, but there shall be no safety for the princess so long as she remains within the castle. The last of her direct lineage, the sole survivor amongst her immediate family upon that side of the war. Many watch with drool dripping from their fangs, twisting hands reaching out to ensnare the child within their grasp and attach puppet strings to her back. If they cannot control her, it is likely at least one attempt on her life shall be made. At present, she remains safe within her chambers, a constant system of guards posted outside her door. But such measures of security shall not last forever, and Lady Tyrell would much rather give the girl a fighting chance rather than end up like her, unable to truly physically protect herself. “You do me a great favor by instructing her, if you truly do not mind doing so. I do wish for her to have some knowledge, given the precarity of her position.”

As Cregan approaches her, seemingly placated by her gentle correction of his misunderstanding, worry of his own flickers tenderly across his face as he seeks out the cause of her agitation. As his imposing figure shadows her own, strands of reddish hair fall about his face and to the tops of his shoulders when he brings his voice impossibly lower, impossibly deeper. Merely a breath away from him, her chin lifts with gentle hesitation to reveal the depth of her concern to his prodding eyes, the distinct color of storm clouds. “Then what troubles you so, my lady? Allow me to rectify it, if it might be within my power.”

How certain his quiet words are, nearly comforting in their strength and assurance. If only it were so simple, to surrender her worries to the Lord of Winterfell and wait patiently for him to straighten each one out. But far too much rests upon his plate at present, and this matter might be out of even his control. Another soft sigh from her lips and she clasps her hands together, unable to resist the childish habit of pressing her fingers into her palms. Cregan’s eyes flick down at this, finding himself only barely able to resist the urge to draw her smaller hands into his own, the way he had when he had bandaged her wrists within the quiet warmth of her chambers. Instead, he involuntarily tightens his jaw while waiting with the steady patience he has come to extend to her whenever she might need it.

“You need not send Lord Blackwood to treat with Highgarden,” The airy and exasperated quality of her words is far from lost upon Cregan, as her tone adapts the rushed cadence she speaks with when her mind becomes embroiled with worry. The letter in her hands seems to hold a weight akin to a stone pulled from a garden’s soft dirt. “Highgarden shall come to you, my lord. My mother and sister will arrive with a small traveling party within the week. She has long since been underway.”

Cregan’s eyes narrow at this, his gaze continuing to search her face while the implication of the news takes firm root within his mind. With a quiet inhale through his nose, he gives her a slow nod. “I had imagined the upcoming trials might draw in more of the prominent families of the South. I did not know your lady mother would wish to attend.”

“The scales of power are in constant motion at this time, and the turbulence of the war has only increased the amount of opportunities for those who have long since minded themselves and heeded the Targaryen rule,” Lady Tyrell might do well to mind herself and her own words, tending to her personal interests before she foolhardily presents her honest opinion to another, but finds it difficult to not tell Cregan the entirety of the truth. She need not wonder upon how long it has been since she has had a true confidant in whom she can confess the extent of her thoughts – the lady can count the exact number of days that have passed. Perhaps that is why conversing honestly with the Lord of Winterfell has proven so undeniably tantalizing. His stature and countenance might play a considerable role, but following their first truthful encounter it would seem neither of them is eager to raise the issue of the tension up in conversation. Jaehaera’s quiet voice can be heard briefly from the connecting room, in soft conversation with her Septa. “With two eligible daughters, she ought to be here, where she might confirm what I suspect are her desired matches.”

The lady gives a sharp breath at this, managing only barely to keep the words from dripping with sardonic bitterness and exhausted dread. Her eyes drift to the window, as they so often do when unpleasant emotions coil up in her stomach, and she misses entirely the seriousness with which Cregan Stark is taken aback by her words. His eyes narrow further, his shoulders drawing back so that he might appraise her with tight lips and an even tighter jaw that twitches slightly as he is met with an unexpected brush of an emotion adjacent to irritation twisting within his chest. His gaze moves about her face, before he looks down and makes a stoic attempt to reason with himself over how improper it might be to speak brashly upon the matter. Given her beauty, it will prove exceedingly difficult to find a man who would not fall to his knees for but a taste of her, to claim her as his own. The idea of such an atrocity only serves to bring his hand into a tight fist, knuckles nearly white at the thought. She, who has fought so valiantly with the skills she possesses in the face of brutal masculine strength and wanton violence, should not be subjected to such a fate after surviving the war while living amongst vipers and dragons.

“Are you not of an age where you might seek out a match yourself, my lady?” The words are offered as a low interjection into the silence that has fallen between them, yet perhaps Cregan is unable to fully banish the sharpness from his tone as he presents his inquiry. She is barely younger than Cregan himself, and having been in such a prolonged betrothal with the late prince Daeron she has avoided the fate of marriage in her teenage years. While she has spoken upon a number of occasions about the upcoming engagement of her sister, she has not mentioned an imminent marriage for herself. One edge of her mouth twists up resentfully at his words and she tilts her chin slowly, eyes still cast away as the curtains sway gently in the breeze seeping in through the open window.

“Such an age seems like a lovely dream, one I have not the luxury of possessing.” The bitter lamentation disfigures itself into forlorn and disconsolate acceptance. She desires to cease discussion upon the matter, holding no wish to appear as one who complains futilely of their fate. Yet thickly veiled sorrow flickers behind the curtain of indifference she sweeps over her glassy eyes. “It matters little. Of greater importance, you shall not be seeing a host from Oldtown within the coming days nor months. They have agreed to stand down.”

This brings the turbulent discourse within Cregan’s mind to a temporary stillness, the leader within him long since used to prioritizing matters of duty over matters of a more personal consequence. There is a quiet mix of relief and lassitude at the realization that the fighting truly has ended, combined with worry over his people, who will have to march north to return to their struggling families as winter bares its fangs and prepares to descend upon the lands. His eyes drift downwards, her expression growing sterner and then weary as he sighs heavily. “Good then, that the trials shall commence sooner rather than late. Too long has this crisis endured, and now it shall end.”

Her hands remain drawn together atop the light fabrics of her gown, her shoulders lowered and her eyes big as she watches him with a reserved look upon her features. The subtle manner in which she recalls all hints of emotion, as if reigning in every outer expression of her own thoughts upon the matter, does not go undetected by Cregan. So much has she lost in the war and so little she gained, save for a broken heart and a tiredness unbecoming of her age. The concept of such a catastrophe within her life having finality to it must weigh disconcertingly upon her heart. He does not envy her for experiencing it now, as he has experienced it before. “I shall not forget your assistance with the Hightowers, nor with the princess or managing the nobles at court. You have been of great help to me, Lady Tyrell.”

Lady Tyrell’s eyes narrow with ambiguous deflection, her brows raising as she draws her arms across her chest slowly. The concept of being thanked with such solemn genuineness has become foreign to her as of late and sets her lashes aflutter as she searches internally for a way to change the topic of discussion once again. But any thoughts upon the matter – or any thoughts at all, in truth – are vanquished from her mind into wispy clouds of white smoke as Cregan draws impossibly closer to her, broad shoulders leaning forth. Her eyes instantly meet his own, delicate confusion and wariness upon her face even after their growing familiarity. The memory of his hands upon her lower back and the curve of her hip as he taught her to fight burn hot against her skin, and perhaps this is why her eyes traitorously flicker to his lips, parted softly as he considers his next words.

At the nearly imperceptible drop of her eyes, Cregan too is robbed of words and coherent thought. His face seems to melt with slow wanting, heavy and thick as golden honey. The hesitation within her eyes is not lost upon him, nor the very gradual manner in which he has been seemingly gaining some amount of trust from her. He knows it is not an easy thing for her to give. There is a flutter of breath that catches within her chest, the effect of steeling herself to stand before him rather than draw away at such weighted proximity. Cregan’s brows draw together with an aching softness at the sweetness of her acceptance, of her belief in his character and intention. Never will he allow a hand to harm her again, never does he wish to see fear upon her lovely countenance. Her heart is well-guarded, separated from the everyday happenings of the capital by barbarous briar hedging, but he swears he can catch a glimpse of the pure tenderness through the twisted maze. The Queen’s Chambers have faded to a soft and distant background behind her, she who shines in perfect focus within his gaze. Any wish to verbally affirm the appreciation he has for her has been lost, replaced by a burning yet tempered desire to provide physical proof of it. Words such as decency and propriety dance briefly upon his mind but are hesitantly pushed aside with the slow raise of his arm. Unlike when teaching her the sword, Cregan has no excuse for his closeness nor the want within his eyes. “You said once that I might endeavor to act upon my gratitude, rather than speak of it.”

His large hand casts a warm shadow upon the skin of her cheek, as she parts her lips unconsciously, mirroring Cregan’s own. Her refusal to draw away from him only solidifies the timid trust she has placed in him, and if it were not wholly unbecoming, the Lord of Winterfell might find himself upon his knees to ask her for something he should not. The concept of her marrying a stranger only fuels the fire within his chest, a petulant selfishness whispering in his ears to forbid someone who does not know her from attempting to come near. To whisk her back to Winterfell, with her approval, if only to keep her out of the reach of unworthy hands. But in this moment, his desire is simple.

“May I, my lady?” A tantalizingly low echo of his previous words, just as reverent yet more needing than when he had last spoken them. At her silent consideration, that hint of a smile she has come to long for finds its way to his lips. “I am not above petitioning at length, should it please you.”

Lady Tyrell cannot claim that she understands exactly what Cregan Stark is seeking permission for. In an even more dire realization, she finds it does not matter to her. Her answer remains the same, so long as it is he who is asking. A soft breath of disbelieving protest at her own foolishness escapes her lips, the near whine sending heat directly between Cregan’s thighs. Ally or not, she might kill him yet.

“You need not do such a thing.” The phrase does not take as certain of a shape as she might wish, but the lady manages to whisper the words into the small space between them without her voice breaking. Curse her own idiocy, her own desires. It would seem she has not become wise regarding matters of this nature, despite previous lessons hardly and cruelly learned. A long time coming has this intimacy been, from the very moment their eyes locked within the throne room. Before there had been respect and wary alliance, there had been want.

The pads of his fingers brush against the plush skin of her cheek, the roughness of them a stark contrast to her softness. Cregan inhales quietly at the touch, the callouses of his battle worn hands tender upon her face as he slowly envelopes her cheek within his grasp, cupping it with a gentleness she imagines few would expect from such an intimidating and large leader of men. His towering over her matters little when his caress is so fond, as if she is some sacrosanct being he wonders over the rightness of touching. Her head leans almost instinctively into his palm, her chin raised so that she might look him in the eye. His eyes are low-lidded, his warm breath dancing gently atop her own.

Her given name is breathed into the space between them, reverent and weighty upon his lips as if from sacred scripture.

No sooner do light footsteps pad through the door of connecting chamber, and Lady Tyrell jolts back from Cregan as if lightning has descended upon her. In her absorption in their intimate moment, she has nearly forgotten they stand in Jaehaera’s chambers, with the intention of spending time with her. The guilt at this lapse of memory has her quickly turning her back to Cregan, forcing an easy smile upon her face as the princess begins to explain the book she has retrieved. The lady’s heartbeat is so rapid, she wonders if Cregan can hear it as he stands behind her.

“Would you read it with me?” Jaehaera inquires softly, unaware of the tension that hangs thickly between the adults in the room. With such precious little time that the lady has to spend with the princess, she can hardly refuse her. She reaches her hand to gently brush a strand of silver hair that has fallen loose from Jaehaera’s braid and gives an earnest nod.

“Of course, darling. Come, let us begin now.” Lady Tyrell’s voice is soft and full of the tender love she only presents when around the child. As the two of them cross the room to the cabriole leg sofa by the fire, discussing the book in gentle voices, Cregan can hardly find himself displeased. Conversely, a rather clear image has settled into his mind of tender moments interrupted by the soft voices of children, the halls of Winterfell once more filled with laughter and light. How long it has been since he has acknowledged this dream, let alone believed it might yet happen within his lifetime? When the lady pulls Jaehaera into her lap, opening the book with a sweet smile of pure and devotional love upon her face, there is no doubt in Cregan’s mind upon what he feels within his chest. It is love.

To his surprise, the princess then looks across the room at Cregan expectantly. She does not request anything, but she does not need to. Cregan gives a small nod to indicate his understanding, and makes his way to the sofa, sinking down next to Lady Tyrell as the woman’s face conveys how softly impressed she is by his winning the princess over. As Jaehaera begins to read the words of the story aloud, a gallant tale of the adventures of a knight and his squire, a warm peace has filled the room.

For the first time since the Northerners arrived at the Red Keep, new forces are allowed past the castle’s imposing gates and into the expansive front courtyard. Allies of the Lord of Winterfell, those who had fought beside him during the arduous descent from the North to the capital city, that had been straightening out the remnants of those who had supported Aegon II and the Green faction during the war. The open iron-barred gates let in a long line of weary soldiers, shoulders raising as they dismount their armored horses within the walls of the ruling seat of the Seven Kingdoms. Banners decrying the identity of the gathering Houses are taken careful note of by Lady Tyrell, who remains atop a balcony overlooking the bustling activity below. At her side is the Lady Jeyne Arryn, whom had suggested that the lady join her to observe the happenings prior to the meeting that is to be held. Lady Tyrell has developed a true fondness for Lady Arryn, her admiration for the Lady of the Vale having been in great supply since their first meeting. Learning more of her past has only served to increase her desire to learn from the other woman.

Many wagons roll through the gates, carrying what little supplies are still possessed by the troops, their wooden wheels bumping atop the tiny rocks dotting the courtyard’s ground. Loud and deep voices boom out into the air, laughter heard as friends reunite and begin to speak of their great victories during the campaign. Men clap each other upon the back, talk of drinking and whoring within the capital city that night already heard in plethora throughout the busy space. There are sounds of metal clanking together as armor is stripped and swords are sheathed, of neighing of the horses, of interspersed shouting from guards as the gates are manned. It is such a lively scene that the lady is swept into the unwilling remembrance of a bitter nostalgia, her mind recalling days where such vivacity occurred at the gates each time the sun rose. A cool breeze upon her cheek and the smell of seawater drifting in from the Blackwater stirs her from her thoughts, a quiet acceptance upon her countenance.

“Lord Stark has told me of the resolution of our problem regarding House Hightower,” Lady Arryn muses in an even tone, her eyes as sharp as steel as they scan the incoming men. Yet there is no harshness to her words, simply the direct Northern practicality that Lady Tyrell has come to find unfortunately endearing. “And so this shall be the remaining arrival of troops to your doorstep. I imagine you shall be relieved to see us depart, Lady Tyrell.”

“I cannot lie and pretend I do not wish for the ending of being trapped within these walls, nor the ending of such a tragedy,” Lady Tyrell finds that the resigned smile upon her lips is rather genuine, and she tilts her chin, eyes wandering across the commotion beneath them calmly. The matter is far too complicated for her to voice her true opinions on, should she herself even manage to ever put her thoughts upon the war into words. The strangeness of its ending has not yet settled fully within her chest. “Yet neither can I truthfully say I wish you all to be gone from my sight permanently.”

Cregan Stark’s Northern council is filled with those the lady truly does not mind the company of. Lady Arryn is perhaps her favorite, but the young Tully lords are bold and entertaining, and she still retains the hope of introducing her sister to Lord Blackwood. Even the lords Corbray have grown upon her, despite her initial uncertainty. It speaks to the quality of Cregan’s character, to surround himself and fill the chairs of his table with those who uphold honor and integrity. As she meets the other woman’s eyes, her smile softens. “Perhaps I shall pay a visit to the Vale once matters have settled further. Your bannermen speak often of the beauty of the Eyrie.”

Lady Arryn beholds her with an unreadable expression for a moment before her eyes crease slightly at the corners, a dip of her head indicating her approval. “We would be honored to host you, my lady.”

“And I honored to be received into your halls.” Another gust of wind graces Lady Tyrell’s face, blowing sections of hair behind her in a gentle wave. Remembering the rumors that had stirred in the castle prior to the arrival of the men from the North, she is quite glad to have discovered for herself their true nature. Rather than bloodlust and violent savagery, the Northern nobles carry a stern upholding of duty and a blunt pragmatism that has served the capital well since their rise to power. Not far in the past are days when she could never have imagined herself with allies from the North, and yet here she stands.

Her attention wanders down to the courtyard as she steps forward with reserved curiosity to gaze upon the lord who has caused her such upheaval since the day he arrived. Cregan Stark appears every inch the fearsome warlord when amongst the other men, and it is clear from the manner in which they acknowledge him that he commands great respect. But when she catches sight of him, her eyes narrow and her expression grows more serious as she watches.

Before the Lord of Winterfell stands a lady, dressed in attire far more suited to hunting and fighting than a gown might be. Hair as dark as a starless sky, cascading in small curls down to the tops of her hips as the edges catch loose droplets of warm afternoon sun. A quiver of black arrows rests upon her back, and the ease with which she holds a bow within one leather-gloved hand signals to many years spent familiarizing herself with its use. Her height leaves her upon even footing with many of the men within the courtyard, and her wiry frame still reveals the strength of her arms and of her lithe legs. Boots are laced up to her knees, meant for riding far distances. There have been no alterations to emphasize any one quality about her; it would seem she simply adorns herself with what might be beneficial in battle. She might not be considered a great beauty amongst the nigh impossible standards at Court, but that matters little to Lady Tyrell at present. It is the way Cregan looks at her. Dark eyes shimmer as she laughs, hearty and genuine, at words the lord speaks to her with a stoic fondness. There is an effortlessness to the exchange, a familiarity with each other that sends a worrying gnaw into the pit of Lady Tyrell’s stomach.

This, she finds unacceptable. To be driven to worry over a conversation – it is entirely possible, the Lady Tyrell decides silently, that she has lost her mind altogether. The recollection of the sensation of Cregan’s fingers upon her face flutters delicately atop her skin and disappears at the sight of the corners of the Lord of Winterfell’s lips upturning to indicate true liking for the woman before him. Never has she seen him look at another in such a way. Her mind races to identify the emotion in his reserved eyes, her own darting across his face as her posture draws up tightly, strung and sharp.

“The lady whom Lord Stark converses with,” She begins, intentionally manipulating her voice to be pleasant and soft to avoid giving any external indication of the nonsensical concern tugging insistently at the strings of her heart. Especially in front of Lady Arryn, who seems to take great pride in being exceptionally practical. “Who might she be?”

Lady Arryn’s eyes scan the courtyard, her head tilting as she searches for the origin of the lady’s line of questioning. When the other woman notices the exchange below, she observes for a brief moment before leaning towards Lady Tyrell, her eyes remaining fixed upon the two within the courtyard. “That would be the Lady Alysanne Blackwood. She lead her men upon the battlefields as they marched south.”

The name sparks a quiet grasping for any information that Lady Tyrell has ever heard regarding the other woman. With some difficulty, she remembers that Lord Benjicot Blackwood has an aunt upon his father’s side, a lady of true Blackwood blood who has been assisting the young lord since the death of the previous Lord of Raventree Hall. It had been a passing fact she had learned and paid little mind to, but as she watches the conversation continue with smiles from both parties, she curses herself for not seeking out more information on Lady Blackwood. Nothing makes her more anxious than to be uninformed or unprepared, and she seems to have become both of those over a rather unexpected matter. It is not unimaginable that Lord Stark has admirers, nor women he is fond of. She cannot say she has not thought upon the matter briefly, but her time at court has left her rather confident in her ability to outmaneuver another to seek out what she wants. She is familiar with the games the other ladies play at court to win the attention of men. Alysanne Blackwood does not seem to be playing a game at all. It is the raw and brash manner in which she carries herself and speaks that stands out to the Lady Tyrell and with another sickening drop of her stomach, she realizes that this is likely what Cregan finds appealing.

“She fought in the battles herself, then?” It is with practiced expertise that she keeps her voice light and airy, as sweet and nonchalant as if she were asking about the state of the weather. Truthfully, the concept of a woman fighting upon the battlefield is quite fascinating to her. If only the Lady Blackwood had not captured Cregan’s attention so, Lady Tyrell might have found herself eager to converse with the woman herself.

“Aye. And a rarity it is, even with her talent. I myself cannot claim to have done so.” Lady Arryn’s casual remarks upon the matter do little to soothe the lady’s troubled mind. She wonders briefly if a lady need not have beauty if she is instead utterly fascinating, and then if perhaps the Lord of Winterfell prefers to be fascinated himself. The conversation within the courtyard carries on quite amiably amidst the bustle of the incoming troops.

“A rarity indeed.” It is a saccharine breath of agreement, accompanied by the brief narrowing of her eyes and upturning of her chin. Over the tip of her nose, she watches the easy way that Cregan angles his broad shoulders towards Alysanne Blackwood, nodding his head as he explains some happening that has occurred since their last meeting. As the Lord of Winterfell leans forward to brush off a dry leaf that has fallen upon Alysanne’s hair, the pit in her stomach hollows in cavernously and the Lady Tyrell is left all but reeling once more, her mind scrambling for logic or sense or a reference of information that might prove a useful balm to her tumultuous state of being at the simple touch. All she manages to do is press her lips together tightly, her smile slipping from sweet to sickeningly so. “He appears rather fond of her.”

Lady Arryn’s expression is tinged at the edges with something akin to amusement at this, and the other woman gives the lady a look out of the corner of her eye. Lady Tyrell is far too occupied with staring quite pointedly down at Cregan – the Lady Arryn finds it a wonder that her liege lord does not simply burst into flames from the severity of the gaze. After a moment, she dips her head in acknowledgement. “I believe they enjoyed each other’s company when their armies met.”

A crinkling of the corner of her eyes is the only indication of Lady Tyrell’s agitation. The phrase is quite vague, and while she desires fiercely to delve further into the meaning of it, she restrains herself. The lady is far too ruffled by this, more so than she cares to be, and she need not allow Lady Arryn to perceive any more of that frustration than the other woman already has. Little can be kept from the discerning gaze of the Lady of the Vale, but she shall try nonetheless.

The nobles gather in the former Small Council chamber soon after the troops have all entered the walls, talking amongst themselves whilst standing around the long rectangular wooden table. It is not as crowded as she might have expected, most of the men eager to engage in more pleasurable pursuits despite the night not yet having fallen, but Lady Tyrell is not as vigilant as she ought to be. The new faces in the room would normally draw her observant gaze, as she might attempt to study their character and decide who might prove useful in the remaining days the Northerners will reside at the Red Keep. She knows well she captures their attention, her effect on men is severely understood by her and she remains the only Southern presence within the room aside from the twin princesses Baela and Rhaena, whom Cregan has invited to the meeting as an offering of peace. But wandering eyes and wistful looks are spared no thought, not when Alysanne Blackwood has seemingly settled comfortably at Cregan’s side, walking next to him as they discuss something in a low tone.

The Lord of Winterfell is met with a pair of icy eyes when he scans the room for the Lady Tyrel’s presence. It gives him pause.

She does not seem interested in elaborating her thoughts upon the matter, busying herself with a soft smile and pleasant conversation with the lord standing next to her who is all too eager to speak to the lady. Soft light streams in through the small circular windowpanes upon the far wall of the room, the rather dull space only slightly more revitalized by the welcoming of more lords and ladies within its stone columns. Lady Tyrell’s hands remain folded atop her gown the color of the clearest sky as she asks politely after the battles seen by the lord at her side – Lord Hugo Vance, who appears to be around her age and is not an abhorrent partner to converse with. On the contrary, she finds his manner of speaking rather interesting, and he seems to be both grounded and reasonable. Not traits in high supply at King’s Landing. Despite the general geniality of the conversation, the matter with Lady Blackwood has another masculine voice echoing in the darker parts of her mind.

A flash of violet eyes, the curl of a scornful lip, whisperings of her worst traits and shortcomings. How brutally foolish she had been once, manipulated by the sweet fruit of childhood love that had led to a garden of poisoned apples and dying trees. For all her shrewdness, nothing can save her from the way she can twist the cruelest truths to better reflect upon a person she adores until a knife is pressed to her throat and only her own spilled blood can wake her from the dream. As Lord Vance recounts a particular sword fight from the war, Lady Tyrell cannot shake the numbness accompanying her wondering upon whether or not she has been led astray once again. Wrapped in weary cynicism, she cannot help but consider that she has made the same disastrous mistake twice. She will not be made a fool of by a man again.

Nodding sweetly, she gives a smile that does not quite reflect in her dulling eyes. As Cregan calls for the attention of the nobles, never needing to work too hard to command a room, Lady Tyrell does not bother to gaze in his direction. His speech thanking the lords and ladies for all their hard work, for all the sacrifices made to achieve the peace that is only just upon the horizon, is nothing but a faint hum in her mind. With Lady Blackwood at his side, a woman who is more familiar with the world of battle and typically masculine pursuits than Lady Tyrell can ever hope to be, she can see a vision of the true North. A glimpse of something she wants – power and strength, a respect that is given only to those whom men consider strong.Callouses upon hands that come from wielding weapons, from being able to defend oneself in a way that she cannot. To live without such fear, to be seen as someone who might be an equal. There is a lady who can stand by the Lord of Winterfell.

Exhaustion has seeped far into her bones by the time Cregan finishes speaking, earning a rousing cheer and applause from the other men. Her eyes briefly catch sight of Rhaena and Baela, their faces still rather grim. Lady Arryn is observing with calm seriousness, a matter clearly weighing upon her mind. The few women within the room do not seem nearly as enthused as the lords. Lady Tyrell cannot bring herself to look to Lady Blackwood again, but it would not seem she needs to gaze far. As Lord Vance attempts kindly to rekindle their conversation, she hears her name and title upon Cregan’s lips behind her. She pauses, her figure drawing up tighter, a thin swallow making its way down her drying throat. Wondering briefly upon how rude it might be considered to pretend she simply has not heard, she continues to nod and smile. The warmth of a gentle hand upon her lower back signifies she shall not be escaping so soon.

Sucking in a soft breath, she turns as the Lord of Winterfell offers a small dip of his head to her and then Lord Vance for interrupting their conversation. At the sight of his liege lord’s hand upon the lady, Lord Vance is quick to nod in understanding and give her a bow before departing to speak with one of the Tully lords. Cregan’s large hand has settled into the small of her back as he guides her closer, the action bringing all of her pessimistic thoughts to an abrupt halt. Never has he touched her so casually, and certainly not in the presence of others. She blinks up at him, soft eyes that only partially reveal her confusion and desire for clarification upon this change. A few of the other lords seem to have taken note of this familiarity, raised eyebrows and meaningful looks exchanged with knowing smiles between the men. Lady Tyrell might have been angry if any other man had reached for her in such a familiar manner, but she allows him this closeness as Lady Blackwood approaches.

“Lady Tyrell, I wish for you to meet Lady Alysanne Blackwood. Our forces fought together on our journey south.” The introduction is simple and straightforward, and Lady Tyrell merely smiles pleasantly as Lady Blackwood gives a firm nod, offering her a neutral look. Lady Tyrell offers a small curtsy in response, her fingers curling into the embroidered fabrics of her skirts tighter than necessary.

“It is my pleasure, Lady Blackwood. The realm is grateful for your service.” Lady Tyrell’s voice retains a sugary quality, her posture demure and her hands returning to clasping each other delicately in front of her dress. Her lashes flutter slightly as she speaks, her chin tilting down. Lady Blackwood does not seem to harbor any of the pressures expected of a lady during introductions, something the Lady Tyrell finds envious. Instead, the other woman simply presents a look of general affability and regards her thoughtfully.

“It is good to meet you, my lady. Cregan has written of you in his letters, it is excellent to put a face to your name.” Her tone is light yet has a weight to it that wraps around her words and bestows upon them a quality of certainty. Lady Tyrell does her utmost not to let her smile twitch at the casual use of the lord’s given name, nor the revelation that they have been exchanging letters. Her stomach continues to twist itself into a nauseating knot. The information regarding her being mentioned in such letters seems of little consequence compared to the anxiety filling her chest. She scoffs internally at her own thoughts, wishing that this sort of worry would be beneath her. Rather than attempting to formulate a proper answers, she merely widens her smile slightly, her eyes narrowing a moment as she does. Cregan looks down at her, hand still pressed firmly to her back, and tilts his head slightly.

“A dinner shall be held tonight, to welcome those who have just arrived. Shall you join us, my lady?” The Lord of Winterfell extends the invitation with the utmost sincerity and courtesy but Lady Tyrell has worked herself up into such a state, one that will surely worsen if she is forced to endure a whole meal in this situation.

“I must unfortunately decline, my lord. I am quite weary and shall leave the festivities to all of you.” As she speaks, she gently maneuvers herself out of Cregan’s grasp, sliding her waist out from his warm hand. She does not look up to register the slight frown, nor the drawing of his brows at her obvious desire to escape him. Offering a small smile to Lady Blackwood, she slips out with the rest of the nobles before she can be questioned further.

Late is the hour when a heavy knock falls upon her chamber door. It rouses her from her aimless staring into the depths of her fireplace, eyes empty as they gaze into the golden flames and crackling logs of thick wood. Her intentions for the remainder of the night had been to soak in a hot bath, allowing time for her nerves to settle and her mind to still. The warm water had only served to send her thoughts into a further spiral, the scents of various florals reminding her poignantly of her own fragility. Adelin had been given the night off, casting a long look at the lady before she had left. Sinking into her plush armchair, barely having the energy to adorn her body with a thin nightgown the color of sea pearls, Lady Tyrell had only wished to sit for a moment.

One part of her wishes to pretend she has gone to sleep, but she knows the firelight casts a soft glow underneath the crack of the door. And her heart, exhausted as it is, gives a weak flutter at the weight of the knuckles rapping against the wood. Inhaling through her nose, she wraps a sheer robe atop her evening slip and softly makes her way across her chambers. Hands upon the cool metal of the latch, she barely pulls the door open wide enough for her figure to be seen before she pauses, hovering about the edge of the wood. The Lord of Winterfell stands before her, stoic and steady as always, his eyebrows lifting slightly upon seeing her. Within his hands he holds a bowl of soup, steam curling upwards in silvery helices.

The door is left to drift ajar lazily, leaving her fully visible as she stands beneath the door frame. Cregan is given momentary pause at the casualness of her dress, the slip clinging precariously to each soft curve of her body as if fresh powdered snow atop gentle hills. Despite the heat in his lower stomach, he forces his attention upward. Her eyes reflect the slight surprise that bubbles within her chest at the sight of him, hopeful yet hesitant at the unexpected visit. The warm scent of the hearty soup drifts softly to her nose, greeting her with hints of potatoes, tomatoes, onions and carrots. As her gaze devours the bowl with thinly veiled interest, Cregan gives her a softer look.

“I had not known if you had eaten, my lady,” His low tone is a welcome wave that washes over her body with a comforting and slow rhythm. Her gaze stutters slightly at the simplicity of the words, yet the thoughtfulness they imply. From the heat of the soup, which she can feel as she steps closer to Cregan, it would not seem that he has merely grabbed her leftovers either. “I asked the kitchen which soup you might prefer. I hope it is to your liking, if you are still in need of supper.”

As she turns her gaze upward to meet Cregan’s, she can scarcely keep the affection from flickering warmly in her eyes as if candlelight dancing behind stained glass. Lips press together as her brows draw closer, gratitude light upon her tongue.

“I am, it would seem.” She breathes it between them, a feather of a phrase that floats in the silence of the hall. Torchlight burns low across the stone corridor, illuminating Cregan’s commanding figure at the edges. There is that golden glow at the tips of his reddish hair that always calls her attention so captivatingly. Her weariness still aches deep within her tired body, but the small gesture has rekindled the dying embers in her chest. So quick is she to dismiss the possibility of affection and attachment, but she has not done so completely. As he reaches out to hand her the soup, his lips part slowly.

“Careful, it is quite warm.” The Lord of Winterfell cautions softly, ensuring she cups the bowl from the sides before he allows it to pass to her hands. His own calloused fingers brush tenderly against hers as he releases his hold, filling his senses with her smooth skin. Her lashes flutter gently at the innocent touch, a soft swallow upon her throat as she draws the warm soup closer to her chest. After a moment of easy silence, Cregan dips his head low. “I ought not to keep you from your rest, Lady Tyrell.”

As she lingers uncertainly in her doorway, her mind recalls earlier that day when Cregan had spoken her given name as a sacred devotion into the centimeters between their lips. How anxious she has been since then, how fretful over a man who is not her betrothed nor beloved. It is not in her character to be so easily swayed, not after her previous dealings in matters of the heart. And she finds, much to her own concern, that Cregan Stark has unexpectedly become a matter of the heart indeed. Taking a small breath, she resolves not to be so quick to resort to judgement. “I shall not retire until I have finished my soup, my lord. Perhaps you might join me until then?”

The invitation catches Cregan’s attention at once, his eyes widening slightly as his shoulders lower. Given the agitated state she had been existing in for most of the day, he had not believed she would wish to speak with him further. The opportunity for a quiet moment to sit beside her is not one he desires to ignore. “Aye, I would gladly do so.”

Lady Tyrell turns without further comment, not wishing to be caught standing before a man in her nightgown by any who might be passing by at the late hour. As she pads across the floor, her slippers soft upon the rich oak, she returns to her armchair and settles into it with a swish of her sheer robe. Cregan is left to watch for a moment, eyes tracking every move and step as the lady makes herself comfortable in front of the golden fire glowing within the hearth. Despite the stress from the day, she looks comfortable and soft within the firelit room. He then endeavors to join her, sinking into the chair across from hers as she begins to sip the hot soup with a neutral expression of content upon her face. As the liquid brushes her tongue, she winces at the heat and her brows knit together in a small frown. Cregan can do nothing but smile gently at the endearing expression.

“I did warn you it is hot.” Cregan offers quietly, amusement flickering across his face alongside light from the fire. Lady Tyrell lets out a huff in return, frustration upon her visage as she blows harshly overtop of the creamy soup.

“So you did.” It is the closest thing to a growl that he has heard escape her pretty lips. Shaking his head, the rumblings of a low laugh echo into the warm air between them, accompanied by the crackling of logs within the fireplace. Lady Tyrell wholly forgets the soup in her grasp and the stress of the day and every other thought that has ever entered her mind. Her mouth drops open slightly, her eyes wide as saucers as she stares blankly at him. Here sits the Lord of Winterfell, the feared Wolf of the North, laughing so easily within her chambers. The warmth in her chest is hotter than the bowl in her hands.

“I have missed the soups of the North,” Cregan sighs nearly wistfully as he gazes into the flames. The smell from the earthy potatoes had brought him back to days of wild youth, running breathlessly through fallen snow and underneath ancient pines. The puff of his own breath before him, his fingertips turning red from the biting cold. “Too long has it been since I have tasted home.”

The lady is completely placated by his presence, by the taste of the rich soup within her mouth. She sighs, pleased and warm, curling her legs beneath her in a most unladylike manner. “You have been away for some time. It must be difficult.”

It is a soft murmur, spoken around breaths used to blow gently into her food to spare her tongue the burning sensation each time the creamy liquid sits atop it. Cregan watches with a gentle approval, pleased to see her eating. He had worried over her, when she had declined to join the nobles for dinner and is glad he decided to ensure she had gotten something for supper. “And you, my lady? Do you miss home as well?”

“I do not know, in truth,” Lady Tyrell muses, her shoulders dropping elegantly as she shifts within her seat. Her eyes wander slightly, as if her mind is drifting to a place far from here. After a second with her thoughts, she shakes her head, the edges of her hair glowing in the warm firelight. “I had always known I would leave Highgarden one day. It was only that I believed King’s Landing would be my home, and it is…not. Not any longer.”

A small, weak smile is offered with the explanation. Her attention returns to her soup, the silver spoon held tenderly within her delicate grasp. As she brings it to her lips, she tries not to dwell upon the idea of home too seriously.

Cregan frowns at this, his brows low as he casts his gaze down to the plush rug that rests upon the wood in front of the hearth. Winterfell has been his home for the entirety of his life, and while he had been forced to fight for that home, it has always been his. His birthright, the lands that have raised him and all of his ancestors before him. How strange it would be, to have such uncertainty surrounding where one belongs. The North is in his blood and in his bones – he would not know his own identity if he were forced away from it permanently. The idea of her not having a place to belong to does not sit right within his chest. “You ought to have a home you can be certain of.”

A light raise of her eyebrows is given at this, while she keeps her eyes upon her soup. Her hands shift the ivory bowl back and forth absentmindedly, yet the seriousness of his voice is not lost on her. Still, there is not much she can do to rectify her own situation. Instead, she merely gives a small dip of her chin. “I would very much like that, my lord.”

“I hope that after the trials conclude, the Realm might have a better chance at peace.” Cregan sighs, a weight to the phrase from all the pressure that he has been carrying since his arrival. Being the Warden of the North has prepared him well for the power he currently holds within the capital, but it does exhaust him so. He cares little for Southern politics and the tumultuous remnants of the succession war. Although he cannot truthfully say he wishes he had never come – not when she sits across from him, gently lit by warm firelight, her visage a heavenly blessing upon his tired eyes.

“You have worked tirelessly for the bettering of the Seven Kingdoms,” The lady acknowledges, her voice quiet as she stirs her soup while keeping her gaze downwards. There is a certain comfort in sitting here with Cregan at the late hour, in simply being around him within the familiarity of her chambers, with no chance of being caught or interrupted. “I had strong doubt at first, but I do now believe you genuinely mean to carry out justice and return to the North.”

Cregan rubs a hand across his face, trailing it up through his hair as his eyes close. There has been far more ruling involved than he had anticipated when he had agreed to fight for Rhaenyra Targaryen. But fate has its own plans for the Lord of Winterfell, and he cannot turn away from a situation that mirrors his past so closely. “The young prince Aegon reminds me much of myself, when I was a lad. Mine own family had a similar issue with succession. My seat was hard won, against kin.”

Lady Tyrell has heard tale of how Cregan had imprisoned his own uncle and cousins after they had attempted to retain power once the lord came of age. Hearing him speak of it now, the way his jaw tenses as he does, she can tell it is something that was quite difficult for him. Her eyes flicker across his face, the way his reddish lashes fall atop the curves of his cheeks. The softness of her voice, barely above a whisper, betrays hints of the true affection she has come to hold in her heart for him. “It is kind of you then, to extend to Aegon the assistance you did not receive as a child.”

His eyes open at this, his chin lowering as he fixes his heavy gaze upon her. The lady holds his stare for a moment, before taking a small sip of her soup once more. “it is in my nature, I suppose. The need to rectify a present situation to ease the pain of a past one, even if it only is for the next generation. And in yours as well, I would say.”

It is an accurate assessment of her character; one she suspects few would know. But there is no hiding the truth from Cregan, who has seen her with Jaehaera every night. While she loves Jaehaera deeply, as she has since the girl was born, her guilt and pain over Helaena does additionally drive her need to ensure that the princess has a brighter future than her mother did. It cannot fix anything, but the thought of creating a peaceful life for Jaehaera does bring the lady some semblance of hope.

“It is all I can think, somedays. If only to give myself something to do, lest I go mad from my own helplessness.” It is a soft musing, spoken from someone who has sat for many hours within the cold grasp of grief’s unyielding hands. Cregan recognizes it well, as he so often does. It is peculiar to him at times, how he sees himself mirrored in this woman whose upbringing was vastly different than his own. Yet there she is, reflecting pieces of himself he needs to examine more closely, forcing him to think harder about why he is the way he is.

“We cannot change our past, but we have it in our power to make an attempt towards a better future. It might be in vain. We might never see it, or we might fail before we create it. It is our mortal duty to try nonetheless.” The heaviness in his tone forces her to look up at him, her eyes meeting his as she inhales softly. A better future – might it yet be possible for her, for Jaehaera? As she gazes into Cregan Stark’s eyes, searching for any sign of doubt and finding only stern certainty, it does not seem like a distant dream.

a/n: slowburn is definitely slow but stay tuned for the next chapter, i imagine it's what a few of you have been waiting for ;)

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