#did see some grooming but whew

[spindle-and-nima]

Pappu (black bunny) is really not happy with Snap (the cow rabbit). He's relentless in humping and chinning everything (both are fixed don't worry). I'm starting to see that Snap is trying very hard to be dominant and isn't giving this poor girl a break

[kolsmikaelson]

— ANAKIN SKYWALKER NSFW ALPHABET

NOTES - i’ve never wrote for ani before so i hope this is okay :)

WARNINGS - nsfw 18+ content, fem!reader, not proofread so ignore typos!

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

if theres time, he’ll run a bath and clean you both up, get you some water and then take you to bed, but if not he’ll still clean you up and ask if there’s anything he can do before you get back to what you were doing

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

if he had to pick it would be his hands (or maybe im projecting). and on a partner i think he’s a boob guy honestly, doesn’t matter what size he’s still obsessed

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

loves when you squirt, he loves that it gets all over him and he also loves to come on your tits

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

loves it when you spit in his mouth and make him swallow it, he thought he’d only be into it when he was doing it to you but the first time you did it to him, whew let’s say something in him changed that day

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

not super experienced, he was only ever with padme before you and they never had much time to have sex but he’s a quick learner

F = Favorite position ( goes without saying)

doggy, he loves that he has such easy access to slap your ass but also reach around your front and rub your clit

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s not scared to be a bit goofy with you, it’s not very often when it’s completely serious the whole time

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he’s well groomed, he likes to keep it trimmed and neat for not only himself but his partner too

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s loving and caring, will always make you get off 1-2 times before he even thinks about getting off himself

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

doesn’t do it often, would rather you do it for him or fuck you than using his hand

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

mommy kink, spit kink, choking (force choking mostly),

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his speeder. it’s usually in the middle of the night when everyone's in bed asleep already or during the day when there's just enough time to get away with it

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

seeing that pleading look on your face when asking him to fuck you, he gives in so easily

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

nothing with bodily fluids (minus spit and cum), he won’t do anything where your face is covered in any way because he loves seeing the pleasured looks on your face way too much

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giving. he’s a god at giving head and he knows it, but he wont turn down a blowjob either

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he’s honestly a mix of both, it just depends on his mood. if he got back from a rough mission he’ll be fast and rough but if it was im the morning after you both wake up he’ll go slow and take his time

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he’s obsessed with them, he’ll pull you to the side just before leaving for a mission

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

oh yes, he loves to experiment with you, he’ll be up to try anything once

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

3-4 rounds, he’ll take a few minutes between each round to check on you and get you a glass of water before continuing

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

yes! he has a couple of his own but he also keeps a couple to use on you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he prefers to tease you over you teasing him, anakin loves seeing you get all riled up

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

not too loud but not super quiet either, he mostly moans right next to your ear

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

loves fucking your face, whether it be with his dick or a dildo it doesn’t matter he loves it

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i’m thinking he’s a good 7 inches and well groomed. he likes to keep it neat down there

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

so high. he’d keep going until he passed out if he could

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i think he already has issues sleeping so it takes him a while to fall asleep afterwards

© kolsmikaelson : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[army93bangya]

The Moon Goddess’s Chosen | MYG [M]

TEASER CHAPTER/CHAPTER 1

*Summary: Y/N has been sheltered and hidden within her pack her whole life. She is gifted and her father the alpha of the pack does not want her to find her mate and leave the birth pack. But not even he can stop her from attending the mate gathering between many packs every year to find one’s fated mate. Y/N is worried what her father will do should her mate find her and try to take her. Add in the revelation that the talked about fairly new pack Bangtan will be in attendance this year. Rumored to be ruthless and their alpha heartless, Y/N has every reason to be concerned and riddled with anxiety.

*Genre/Rating: Mature, 18+, Werewolf/Fated mates, eventual smut? 🤔🤷🏻‍♀️

*Warnings/Potential Triggers: Talks of Abuse, Mistreatment, Being Detained, Anxiety, Mention of Murder, Mention of plotting Murder, Slight mention of Rape, Possible future Smut,….more to be added in future chapters.

*Disclaimer: This work was written and owned by Army93bangya and there is no consent for anyone else to post it as theirs, this story is intended for entertainment purposes only, this story is a work of fantasy, seems a bit ridiculous to say but I do not own or have rights to BTS or the members and the characters in this story are a fictional interpretation of members.

*Notes: WHEW! I had an idea that I had written in the notes on my phone a few years ago and I decided to dust it off and work on a teaser chapter for it. This is my first time writing and posting fanfiction so I’m thinking of this as a pilot chapter with hopefully more to come. I will take constructive criticism and any pointers from seasoned authors who might happen upon this. But I would like to point out that I am a person behind this blog and do have emotions so please do not post hateful things just because. Thank you to anyone that sees this post and takes the time to give this chapter a chance. 💜💜

Next Chapter

This was the first year I am to join the mate gathering. My father had put off me attending for as long as he could with all unmated wolfs mandatorily having to go at the age of 18. I’m now 21 having missed three gatherings. He did not want me to be able to find a mate of course he wanted my power all to himself. He is a evil greedy alpha if one should even give him the respect of that title.

He often has kept me locked up and secluded sometimes even going so far as to starve me periodically if I was to get out of his view of the line that I should never cross or thus the consequences. It is extremely rare for a wolf to be imbued additional powers of the moon goddess. Usually these mage wolfs only come about once every 300 to 500 years. Very rare indeed. When one is discovered they are to be honored, celebrated, and protected as their rightful place as the moon goddess’s direct line and will is placed in this wolf. I’ve heard that the goddess will create the perfect alpha mate for her mage wolf. The perfect protector to care for and cherish her chosen. But I never asked for this, all this power has brought upon me is pain and suffering from the ones I call my pack and family.

My father’s next in line, the wolf he has chosen to lead the pack next has taken a particular interest in me. Darius can be quite cruel, he enjoys trying to make me feel weak. He wants me to submit to him and be his chosen mate. But one can only expect cruelty being groomed by a wicked man like my father. He was never gifted a mate and instead raped my mother and had her killed after my birth when she tried to run with me.

The counsel of alphas knew of my existence and nothing else, every year my father had made some excuse as to why I could not attend feigning that I had been attacked and was recovering or was ill and sickly. But this year some of my fathers enemy alphas had put there foot down and demanded my father produce his daughter just like all the other wolves and receive no more special treatment. So here I am, getting ready for the mate gathering with our camp a few miles from the meeting area. One would think I would be elated at the idea of finding a fated mate. Not everybody finds the one fated for them and if I could find mine he could take me away from my father and this pack who has always treated me like a valuable object hidden from the rest of the world. Because of that I am filled with anxiety and unease for tonight. My father and his tyrannical protégé will never let me leave the pack even if they have to put on false masks of deceit pretending to be elated if I am to be bestowed a mate, only to plot for the rest of the evening how to get rid of my mate before he can take me away.

My best friend and maid Maddie, also an unmarked she-wolf, usually has all the gossip for me. Tonight while helping me with my hair she isn’t disappointing. From her standing position behind me while I sit in-front of a mirror the gossip I am always eager to hear starts. “Apparently that newer formed pack will be here tonight. I glance at her face concentrated on my hair before responding. “What new pack?” Her face takes on a uneasy expression. “Well they formed a few years back. Their alpha is said to be joining the counsel as well during the gathering this year and he does not have a mate. I heard he is cold and merciless, he and his 6 betas had every single member of the crimson pack killed. They slaughtered them all. I heard instead of the usual excitement and joy that comes with a mate gathering, every single she wolf is terrified of this “bangtan” pack. Nobody wants to possibly be mated into that pack, and you know a male leaving his pack for his mate is rare. It’s just not traditional.” The very thought of being mated in that pack or goddess forbid this rumored malevolent alpha petrified me. If my mate was strong and smart enough to get me away from my birth pack I don’t know what I would do if it was to another wolf like my father and his heir.

“What is this alphas name so I know to stay clear of his presence as best I can? I do not want to gain someone like that’s attention.” She fidgeting with one of my curls that didn’t want to stay in place “It is said the moon goddess must have blessed him because his physically strength far exceeds a normal alpha. I wonder why the moon goddess would bestow such a gift to a wolf so ruthless.” She sighs before looking at me through the mirror “His name is Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”

[outerexpanse]

downpour headcanons + designs :)

Thoughts on each under the cut, some contain direct spoilers. (Lots of writing)

Note for pronouns listed: These are just my HCs, use whatever you prefer or see fit. :)

Gourmand: She/He/They Full of love and oh so happy with life. Simply went out into the world for FUN and to learn more, why not? Respected and highly regarded at the Home Tree as one of the smartest slugcats around. Coming up with ways to make meals more filling is always important with so many slugcats! Gourmand returns with many regions mapped out, and thus gives way to more slugcats to explore as groups and create homes for themselves. Teaches about the taming of lizards, and to take care when doing so. What was an incredible enemy can make a greater ally. All around a very positive, happy-go-lucky slug to me.

Artificer: She/Her I wanted her to design to be .. fire-esque with the markings like flames in a way. Obviously very troubled, so incredibly lonely because of it as well. She's afraid of connections, what if the past repeats? It would hurt too much. That SAID.. she will find her way to Outer Expanse and be welcomed with open arms. Prior, I think she was apart of a small nomadic family of slugcats so the Home Tree is something else entirely new. Arti could, in this scenario, take on the role of a community mother in a way. There's still fear of the past coming back in new ways, but in this she begins to open up more and becomes adoptive mother to slugpups whose parents have been lost in some form. I just think!! She deserves the world!!! She gets to relax. No more Situations.

Rivulet: She/He/They Somewhat based on how some aquatic animals have a whiter tummy to blend in to creatures below them in the water, and a darker upper body to camouflage to those looking down in the water. (A bit difficult with all the pink, I wanted to keep that on her though..) Very kind :) she loves to bring gifts to Moon, and periodically pays visits to 5P for as long as he still lives. I like to think they also lived with Moon until they passed themselves. Spent a ton of time listening to Moon reading the pearls he found out in the world, and exchanging stories (perhaps via writing..??) that they both have. Softanthiel still hangs around, primarily used as a way to gauge the danger of potential threats to the tree.

Spearmaster: It/They/He Definitely Looks like a slugcat but with something Wrong (on the wrong blueprints in a way). It is taller and longer than the average slugcat. Leaning more into the bodyshape it has in game (bowling pin looking ass) I’d say it has a harder time retaining fat through a liquid diet and constant movement as a messenger. Built quite sleek, I’d picture it with an agility somewhere between Artificer and Rivulet. Spearmaster has nasty little "spots" on his tail so why not give him little freckles too? SRS did not give SM a mouth, so, to me I think that he would be taught sign language. ASL (Ancient Sign Language) would no doubt be something stored and memorized on various pearls. Given its time around an Iterator it would also know how to read/write in the Ancient's language. I feel like they'd be quite a bit lonely.

Saint: They/He To me, they are a distant descendant of Monk. Their fur is very soft, almost like downy feathers in a way. Absolutely vital to their survival in the now frigid wasteland. Keen to grooming themself like a cat would! The echoes are old friends, a familiar warmth. Seeing them is like visiting family, of which Saint no longer has now. Definitely nomadic, never stays in a den for longer than three cycles. Lanterns are tucked into fur for ease of travelling with free hands. :) He's round and spotted because I love him so much!!

WHEW ok thats all. feel free to share your thoughts :)

note that i dont mind these designs being used or designs inspired by them but i would like my art to NOT be reposted.

[cinamun]

WHEW!! That wedding was A LOT

But now that its over, I can complain about this shit! No wonder everyone said MWS was fucked. Anyway... I didn't get nearly as many bloopers as I wanted to because I was trying to concentrate and it was literally the last day of Spring so I had to preserve as much sunlight as I could. Basically, Indya is a global celebrity so the amount of random fucking people that kept showing up and passing out made veins I didn't know I had continuously pop out of my forehead and steam shoot out of my ears.

But this one, right here, kept popping up and scaring the shit out of me.

Sneaking behind the corner trynna get some cake n shit

BRO LIKE TAKE YOUR FELONIOUS ASS BACK TO THE PENTHOUSE!

And the reason you don't see anyone in the background of the first dance between Hope and her new husband is because while he was waiting for her....

Harpo? Who deez people? One bitch came in some lingerie like she didn't get the memo that it was a private wedding at not a bach party. One of them doesn't even have a fucking face (I discovered this after I downloaded that Ihop lot)! And the KIDS! Kids kept showing up and you can't tell them to "just go away" and I was gonna kill them with MCCC but I'm not that cold-hearted. They're just kids, man. So the beautiful dance pictures you see had all this shit going on in the background: Indya making drinks, random pantless kid, faceless lady and the little heffa who is supposed to be in Copperdale.

This was my first MWS-led wedding. The rice throwing was cute, but I couldn't get a pic because the bride and groom just stand there looking stupid and I forgot to turn off the DOF so you couldn't see the rice anyway. I loved the walking down the aisle and we didn't get sky confetti but we got fireworks during the kiss at the altar which was nice. I love how its not a timed event so you can actually do everything without rushing. I'm sure there are mods to prevent some of what happened from happening but ya girl wasn't about to go downloading a bunch of mods. I honestly did not realize it was day 13 of Spring when Jay was doing those squats you feel me? So this was just as much of a rush for me as it was for them.

5/10 would kinda recommend.

[wordstro]

[4] game of thrones-inspired au + prince hongjoong + "do you want to know the first thing my father taught me?"

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

a/n: 23k words omg.... violence, reader experiences misogyny but they are gender neutral, implied sexual tension/relationships/lead up to sexual situations but nothing explicit (aside from the yearning lmao), talk of people burning at the stake, gross imagery i.e. eating raw meat, brief reference to the grooming and assault of a child (not hongjoong or reader), cheating, toxic hongjoong, reader becomes progressively more manipulative, references to SA (not hongjoong or reader), implied physical abuse (not hongjoong or reader), yeosang/reader situationship, one sided mingi/reader, whew this one is a doozy of introspection, also thought about this quote a lot: "no one will know how much violence it took to become this gentle"

-

they say the kims are closer to god then they are to men. you were warned of this, and, some days, you'd believed it.

you believed it on some days. when king kim would send you and hongjoong raw meat from the kitchens with the explicit orders that that was all you were both to eat for a month. hongjoong had the meat sent back every time, but the stench of raw meat never left your nose. when you stood in the gallows of king's landing with the rest of the court and watched innocents burn at the stake, green fire rising and swirling into a column of smoke that disappeared into the glum sky of king's landing, pained screams still ringing in your ears and the stench of burnt flesh still lingering in your nose long after the executions. those days hongjoong would stand in front of you as if he meant to block your view of the scene, but you'd always see it and hear it. there was no way to avoid it when the king insisted the court should have full view of the executions.

with each passing public execution, the anguished screams and choked sobs of those in the audience melted away, until one day you stood in an audience that was only chilling silence, as if the world itself had gone numb.

worst of all, you could still smell everything. the stench of fire and ashes and burnt flesh.

the king faced no consequences for these acts of violence.

eventually the queen stopped taking visitors, even hongjoong, you'd noticed. the two of you continued to share his bedchambers, and you quickly grew accustomed to his extensive schedule. he stopped visiting his mother around a fortnight after you'd wedded him. only a a handful of maids were allowed to see her, which you knew because one of the maids reported to hongjoong of his mother's condition every morning. even though you slept in his too-big bed, and he had the servants lay out a separate bed near the balcony for himself, you grew accustomed to his habits.

you'd wondered once if he knew of yours. it was likely he did not.

king kim was so close to god, he did whatever he wished without consequence, and the thought of his reign of terror going unchecked left you more anxious than you wished to admit.

at least until one warm summer night, when the king called for you to help feed the dragons in the dragonpit. a task he deemed a rite of passage for the newest kim, though you both knew damn well you would not make it out of the dragonpit in one piece.

you were no kim in the dragon's eyes.

the king sat upon his cold iron throne and looked upon you with a treacherous glint in his eyes. it was a look that grew as time passed, as if he'd forgotten his content with hongjoong and your betrothal, and his mistrust for you and dorne had returned. the feeling of his eyes boring into you, knowing he could decide whatever you wished, made you angry. without hongjoong there to counteract the mad king's demands, you were vulnerable. you could not stand vulnerability. you could not stand that you understood why they said the kims were closer to god. not because of their dragons, but because they were above punishment. the king was allowed to dole out punishment as he wished, to whomever he wanted, and no one lifted a finger to deny him of his supposed gods-given rights.

the king's serpent grin as he bestowed his request upon you haunted your thoughts.

that night, barely a name-day after you were wedded to hongjoong, you'd found yourself eye-to-eye with a dragon you'd never seen before. a smaller one, with blue leather skin and sharp eyes. you thanked the gods, old and new, that this time the dragon did not seem in the mood to breathe fire. the kingsguard who had escorted you down to the dragonpit had long disappeared, and you'd stared at the beast as it reared its head and stalked towards you and the bloody slabs of meat you'd dropped long ago.

you were not as brave as you had been your first night you'd entered the dragonpit, and perhaps that was a testament of the years you'd spent in king's landing away from sunspear. the person who stepped off that ship and snuck into the dragonpit was long gone. your dornish curiosity, your bravery, it had all been snatched from you, and you now stood before this dragon with your heart lodged in your throat, frozen and terrified.

the dragon sniffed at the bloody meat between you both, and you knew the only reason you'd managed to move, despite the terror, was the thought that your family did not deserve to see your body returned to them in pieces.

so you'd ran. you ran from the dragon, king's orders be damned.

you ran to the to the door, your footsteps echoing through the dragonpit, an eerie sound that bounced off the walls, ringing in your ears as if even your footsteps were chasing after you. the dragon roared. the sound of it tearing at the meat, it's jaw snapping, following the roars.

your hands shook as you fiddled with the rusted steel door handle, and panic filled your stomach when the door remained firmly shut. the dragon roared once more. the sound was closer. you slammed your shoulder against the door. once. twice. thud, thud, thud.

it swung open with a clang. you stumbled into something - no, someone - sturdy and warm. hands settled on your shoulders, steadying you.

you'd blinked at him. his unruly silver hair, gritted teeth, and furrowed brows.

hongjoong was supposed to be in a strategy meeting at the other side of the red keep. the king knew as much, and you knew it too when you'd agreed to the king's demands.

he wasn't supposed to be here.

so, why was he here?

hongjoong frowned at you, his eyes narrowing into annoyance as he studied your face. for a long moment, you both merely stood at the threshold to the dragonpit. another roar from the dragon and you surged closer to hongjoong and further from the open door. hongjoong's grip on your shoulders tightened, his fingers curling around your elbow, even as he he yanked you away from the door and kicked it shut behind him.

the door slammed shut with a dull thud, drowning out the dragon’s roars, and only then did he let you go. your back hit the wall, and suddenly everything was too quiet. all you could hear was your ragged breathing and your own heart knocking against your ribs. the dragon and the dragonpit was gone, but as you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, leaning against the wall, and tried to catch your breath, hongjoong's furious gaze burned hotter than the breath of a dragon. it was a fury you did not see from him anymore, though perhaps that was because you and hongjoong had barely spoken since your conversation during the bedding ceremony.

the silence over the dimly lit corridor settled between you both. he stepped closer, his vindictive eyes fixed on you as he snapped, "why the hell did you come here?"

you bristled at his tone, "your father ordered me to!"

hongjoong's eyes widened. was he truly surprised? after everything the mad king had done?

hongjoong stepped closer, arms crossed over his chest, gaze skeptical and tone accusatory, "and you did not think to ask me to join you before you came here?"

"you were occupied," you spat, rolling your eyes.

despite your tone, you slumped against the wall behind you, hand over your heart to calm it. hongjoong's scowl was a burning thing, his gaze digging into your skull. you pointedly ignored it in liege of catching your bearings.

eventually he spoke, tone scathing, "you are an idiot."

you scowled at hongjoong, ignoring the way his eyes narrowed at your expression. if anyone deserved his wrath, it was his father. not you.

"your father has always been mad, and i've looked past it same as the rest of you. however, i cannot ignore this. he demanded this of me knowing damn well you would be occupied. clearly he wishes upon my death," you'd bit out, hiding at an ache on your arm. perhaps the dragon did not breathe fire, but it had clawed at you, the same way the mad king had with his own claws.

there was a scratch along your arm, right above the burn from long ago. blood trickled down your forearm. you stared at it for a long moment, unable to recall how you'd gotten it. now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the sharp sting of the wound was at the forefront of your mind.

you turned your scowl on hongjoong, watching as his gaze flit to your wounded arm and remained fixed there. he did not, you noticed, deny your accusation. yours was a heavy, treasonous statement to make against the king of westeros. especially to his son. he should have denied it.

you frowned at his silence, "you are aware of this?"

it was a question you knew the answer to.

hongjoong stood with his arms crossed over his chest. he grit his teeth, "my father believes i wish to usurp him using your father's support."

"and why would he believe something as absurd as that?" you asked, warily.

hongjoong's dragged his hand through his silver-white hair, shrugging. his gaze left yours, fixing over your shoulder, over nothing. it wasn’t the most absurd idea, not in this mad court.

"he is the mad king, y/n.” he emphasized mad king as if that were explanation enough.

"so what? some of his mad thoughts are not always unfounded," you said, narrowing your eyes at hongjoong as you watched him fidget. you've come to learn that hongjoong did not fidget as others did. it was subtle. a moment's glance away, a tap of his fingers against his forearm. they were all subtle signs you'd picked up from sleeping in his chambers, and you were not sure if you liked this newfound ability of yours. it only made you wonder what habits hongjoong had noticed of yours.

hongjoong stood before you, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for you to keep speaking. how he knew you would was beyond you.

you crossed your arms over your chest when the silence stretched on too long, "so, do you wish to usurp him? is that what the mad king’s vendetta is about?”

"i am no kinslayer," hongjoong glowered.

you'd raised a skeptical brow in response, "only because kinslaying is socially irredeemable."

"must you always think the worst of me?"

you snorted, "am i incorrect in my assumption, then? that the king’s anger is unfounded?”

hongjoong then let out the smallest of laughs, a bubble of a thing that graced his annoyed features. he shook his head, but he did not answer you. instead, he said, "come. let us tend to your wound."

you drew your arm to your chest, narrowing your eyes at his attempt to dodge your questions.

hongjoong merely held his hand out, waiting.

you glared at him and the offending hand, "you did not answer me."

"because i do not want to."

"then i will take it to be true, usurper."

"you’ve made up your mind already. will it make a difference? if it were true or not?”

you'd blinked at his expression. he shook his outstretched palm at you, an impatient movement.

you both knew that even if hongjoong truly did wish to usurp the throne, you'd still be entangled in the king's plots. you would remain a target. and if it wasn't true? the king would still continue to plot against you both. he was mad, after all, even if some of his madness was not unfounded. he hated dorne, and you were of dorne. he hated his son, and you were his spouse.

“yes, your admission would.” you cradled your arm to your chest. you clarified, "make a difference, i mean."

"how?"

"you'd have told me the truth."

"do we do that now?"

you frowned, "i suppose not."

hongjoong smiled, and it was a soft thing. he shook his head, before he held his hand out once more.

after a moment, you placed your injured hand in his. he held it carefully, and you'd ignored the way your chest ached.

in the year or so that you'd been wedded to hongjoong, nothing had truly changed. little things had changed here and there. he bothered you less than he used to, and your septa no longer reprimanded you for the way you responded to him.

other than that, he continued on with his lessons and his meetings. you continued on with your sword and riding lessons, and attended events and meetings as duty called.

the only difference that mattered was you and hongjoong slept in the same room together. nightly routines meant you'd lay in his too-big bed until sleep came, and sometimes you'd stir awake in the middle night when hongjoong entered the chambers and readied himself for bed. some mornings, you woke at the same time as him, and you ignored him getting dressed as you stepped into the bathing room to dress yourself or draw yourself a bath, not bothering to call for the servants. hongjoong never left the room when he wished to get dressed, much to your annoyance. still, most mornings, you woke to his bed empty.

some days, during banquets or jousting matches, you'd have to arrive alongside hongjoong. he'd hold his arm out for you to hook your arm through his elbow and the servants would dress you both in matching colors. he'd cock his brow in amusement as you took his offered arm, but he maintained a polite distance otherwise as he led you to the tourney or banquet. you'd made it a point every jousting match to not once give him your flower wreath and bestow him your favor. at banquets you sat next to him and not once did you turn to speak to him.

at one of the jousting tourneys, hongjoong waited at the foot of the stands for your favor, his silver-white hair pushed back from his eyes as he held his jousting sword out in your direction, his armor glinting under the sunlight. you'd treaded right past him, placing it upon the sword of ser eunwoo of the riverlands instead. hongjoong's eyes had flashed, even as he let out a loud bellowing laugh that rang loud in your ears. his grin was a wide terror of a thing. to the people of the court, your behavior was all fun and games between newly weds. teasing, good fun. sometimes, there were whispers that it was something less kind, but no one truly dared speak ill of the heir at court. the mad king was one thing, but the mad king's son was an entirely different matter. you knew it angered hongjoong, however, when you undermined him so publicly, but you doubted he cared otherwise. his sword was always adorned by flower wreath after flower wreath, favor upon favor, from too many to count. you were a wreath among many others. what did your favor matter to him?

ser eunwoo, ser baekhyun, every knight you'd ever favored in hongjoong's stead, ended up sprawled across the ground with his helmet gone and his nose or arm or fingers or some other appendage broken or severely injured from the impact of hongjoong’s jousting sword. hongjoong always tugged at his horse's reins as he galloped back and forth after in celebration, the crowd cheering him on. once you’d dared meet his eyes through the crowd, and his dark eyes glinted as his grin widened.

when he'd defeated ser eunwoo, your favor had flown from ser eunwoo's broken jousting sword, and he'd scooped it up and placed it on his, waving his sword to and fro to the sound of crowd howling at his act. your heart raced against your ribs and your stomach turned. you'd watched as hongjoong galloped to where you stood in the stands, reining his horse in. he held his sword out to you, and the tourney grew silent in anticipation. your favor slipped from the tip of his sword and fell to the floor in front of you, past your limp hands. he grinned, all teeth and fire in his eyes, before he dismounted his horse and turned away, bowing to the crowd.

"you could have killed him," you'd admonished afterwards, when you both left together in hongjoong's carriage.

you'd reminded him of that fact every time he did such a thing.

every time, hongjoong shrugged in response and said, "if you worry for their lives, why do you give them your favor?"

you'd frowned and hongjoong had laughed.

the next tournament, you kept your favor in your lap, defiant as you met hongjoong's gaze. he won the match and dumped all the favors he'd received in front of your feet, and his grin was not as wild as it once had been. the audience hooted with glee. hongjoong turned away from you.

"quite a lover's quarrel, huh?" yeosang asked with a grin and a congratulatory pat to hongjoong's back before he opened the carriage door, after that particular tourney incident.

hongjoong narrowed his eyes at yeosang, and you were shocked he did not strangle yeosang where he stood. it was a testament, you thought, to their bond, and it always made your chest tight to see evidence of such a thing when you had nothing. the carriage ride home was a long and silent.

some days, you'd believed the kims were closer to god than to the rest of you, but on days like this you knew they were the same as any other person. human and angry and begrudging as the rest of you. it made you laugh, a bubbling giggle escaping your lips, and hongjoong glanced sideways at you before he huffed and fixed his gaze out the carriage window.

~.~.~.~.~

a year prior, the sun beat down over your heads as you stood at port. the smell of rotting fish invaded your senses and you could almost taste it on your tongue alongside the sea salt carried with the ocean breeze. the heat of the sun trickled down your spine. you did not know when king's landing's sun became hotter than dorne's, but you thought it fitting that you'd notice it now, as you stood on the docks and watched your father's knights ready his ship.

dorne's flag - orange with a yellow spear piercing a red sun - fluttered high in the sky. it beckoned to you, and you wanted so badly to join your family. you wanted so badly to return to dorne, to touch the sands of sunspear and take meals alongside your brothers. you wanted so badly to find forgiveness for your father, to kneel at your mother's feet and eat the fruits she'd cut for you while she massaged hot oil into your hair. you dreamt of those evenings, her fingers gentle on your scalp while she hummed an ancient melody she said her mother had taught her. you'd asked her to teach you once, and she hummed and said she would when her duties allowed her rest. she'd never gotten around to it. you wanted so badly to learn it now.

you wanted your family. you wanted dorne. you wanted to leave.

your chest ached with the want.

that day, mingi stood at your side, instead of hongjoong. the king, queen, and hongjoong had already said their farewells to your family in the throne room. you hadn't been there. you'd woken to an empty bed, and an anxious thrum deep in your bones. you'd wrapped a cloak over your sleep clothes and stumbled to the chamber doors. at the threshold to hongjoong's chambers, you found mingi and two other kingsguard you did not recognize standing guard outside hongjoong's chambers.

they all stood with their heads held high, eyes boring straight ahead. not once did any of them look your way. not even mingi. in just one night, so much had changed. all because of a few vows.

you had not realized the true impact of wedding hongjoong until that moment.

you cleared your throat, and you asked, "where is the prince?"

surely, he'd have been left alone the night after his wedding as you had been. you thought of the conversation that transpired between you, but you took care to pack away the conversation, the whole night. you did not care to linger on it. now, especially, was not the time to dwell on such trivial matters.

one of the other kingsguard spoke loudly, his voice grating on your frazzled nerves. he did not look at you. neither of them did. was that how you would be treated now? as someone so respected, they saw right through you?

"the prince has gone to see the king's guests off in the throne room, my liege. the king has ordered that they all depart immediately.”

you'd blinked at that. why hadn't you been told that your family would be departing so soon? why were they leaving so soon?

you knew why, but you still could not fathom that it was happening.

you'd clutched the door, voice rough even to your own ears, "when?"

no one said anything.

"when did they leave?" your voice rose, and only then did they look at you. really look at you. you did not recognize any of them. mingi, however, met your gaze with sympathy. pity almost, and you held your breath in anticipation. you expected him to say they'd already left. that you'd slept through their departure, and this time you hadn't had a chance to say your goodbyes.

but then he said, "they're being escorted to the port. they are to leave when the sun is highest in the sky."

"i want to see them."

"my liege -"

"i demand to see them off," you scowled at mingi, "were you ordered to keep me here?"

mingi shook his head. “not me.”

the other kingsguard threw him a look.

you'd tied your cloak securely around yourself and stepped out into the hall, "then i am going."

a day ago, the kingsguard would have ignored your demands completely. even mingi, because despite your companionship with him, he answered to the crown first.

this time, however, they'd exchanged nervous looks, shifting from foot-to-foot, before mingi stepped forward and said, "i will escort them to port.”

the other kingsguard frowned, "what if the prince...?"

mingi shrugged, "i will take full responsibility if the prince wishes to punish us."

so mingi had brought you to port with an urgency you appreciated. throughout the walk there, mingi remained silent. steadfast. as if he was a stranger and you were meeting him all over again. perhaps, that was what happened when one becomes the heir's spouse.

now, he stood by your side. your mother had already stroked your cheek and insisted you stay warm. her voice was a soft, choked thing, and you'd pulled her into another hug. she'd pulled away first, and you felt a part of your heart walking away with her.

your father pressed a hand to your mother's shoulder as she pressed a hand to her mouth and stepped back, giving him room. he searched your gaze for a long, long time. an inkling of rage settled in your stomach as he said, "i am proud of you."

you did not want the burden of his pride. you only wanted to go home. you dipped your head, murmured, "thank you, father."

your father pushed your hair from your face, and he smiled sadly at what he saw in your expression. perhaps he could see the anger and longing in your eyes. then he joined your mother with another piece of your heart. they walked aboard the ship hand in hand, and waited.

you watched them, until you were tugged sideways, into a warm embrace. you let out a gasp of surprise, before you clung to him. the ache in your chest grew, and your fingers curled around the back of his shirt. you looked up at wooyoung's face as he leaned back just a bit and reached up to cup either side of your face in his warm, calloused hands. he said, kindly, too kindly, "take care of yourself, alright?"

"you, too." you said, swallowing the lump in your throat, "please."

wooyoung's fingers tightened against your face before he pulled away. he glanced sideways, throwing mingi a small, amused smile, before he turned away completely and boarded the ship, joining your parents.

yunho stood before you then, and he embraced you for a long, long moment, rocking you back and forth. when he stepped back to take a better look at you, he peered down at you as if he were committing you to memory. as if he would not see you again.

he would not, you both knew, but you did not wish to dwell on the thought right then. the yearning ache in your chest only grew. you knew that this was it.

this was it.

yunho held your hands between his, squeezing tightly, and he said, "write me, please."

"i will, but it will be shallow..."

you trailed off when yunho shook his head, his eyes fixed on yours, full of a burning fire you hadn't expected. such a look was unfamiliar on the yunho you knew. he was determined as he said, with a meaningful squeeze of your hands, "there are other ways to send letters. besides you are no longer a ward. you are the heir's spouse. do you understand what that means, y/n? you have access to channels you’ve never had before.”

the thought never occurred to you. you'd blinked, nodding slowly.

your thoughts reeled at the possibilities. he was right. you held a modicum of power, no matter how limited. you said, slowly, “i will write you often, then."

"yes. write me of everything. i wish to know of even the most mundane of details." yunho’s smile was contagious, and you could not help the small laugh as you nodded.

the gaze beneath his smile held an edge you needed time to acclimate to. time you did not have with yunho or wooyoung. time you wanted so badly to have.

yunho ruffled your hair, and he retreated. he joined your family against the rails. the crew raised the anchors, and shouted at each other as they set sail. you watched with bated breath as wooyoung leaned over the rails and grinned, waving at you with both hands. he wiped at his face as he did so, and you felt tears spring to your eyes at the thought of wooyoung crying. you were the cause of it. yunho merely leaned against the rails beside wooyoung and watched. your mother sobbed. the sound curled over the ocean breeze and lodged itself in what was left of your heart. your father crossed his arms over his broad chest. you waved back until your arm ached. until their boat was a tiny dot on the horizon. until your aching heart felt as if it'd been torn away from your chest, swept across the ocean. you wanted so badly to stand beside them once more. just one more time.

but you were still standing in king's landing.

the silence then was a deafening thing. the sea still crashed against the port, and the port was still a busy, bustling thing, but the silence engulfing you was worse than the ache in your chest. saying goodbye a second time was infinitely worse than saying it once. wind gusted around you, and you heard the distant roars of a dragon - you could see a dragon weaving in and out of the clouds above the sea. you could not tell whose dragon it was. hongjoong's was an onyx black, large and thin with claws longer than your head. you'd see it from afar in the dragonpit a few times. despite the spectacle above you, despite the bustling around you, your head felt empty, muffled.

you knew your heart had crept aboard the ship, and left you behind too. the part of your heart that always held onto dorne and wished to go home was finally going home, and you were left behind to rot.

"something sweet and a listening ear always helps after something like this, you know," mingi's deep voice startled you from your thoughts. he'd been so quiet, you'd forgotten of his presence.

you looked over at mingi, and his neck remained craned as he peered up at the dragon weaving through the clouds. he must have felt your gaze on him, because he turned to look at you, and that wide grin of his graced his serious features. his eyes did not light up the same way his face had, and you could not fault him for it.

“oh?” you asked, "what do you suggest?"

mingi turned away from the sky and the sea, turning fully to face you. he explained, "the kitchen cook makes such decadent desserts with the leftover dough. he fries it and rolls it in sugar."

your chest still ached, and you felt like too many parts of you had gone missing, but mingi's sweet smile staved off the ache just a bit. his expression held a hint of excitement you had not seen in too long. not since before mingi joined the kingsguard, really, so you found yourself grinning along with his excitement as best as you could.

you nodded, "you've convinced me."

mingi grinned, "you'll love it."

~.~.~.~.~

when you were a small child, yunho, wooyoung, and you were often left to your own devices to entertain yourselves as you saw fit. your parents had assigned the three of you your own caretakers, but they'd grown resigned to the fact that neither of you liked to be watched during all hours of the day. the three of you ran off too often, quickly making it a game. your caretakers eventually gave up. as long as you were together, your parents and your caretakers did not mind.

often times, you spent your days in the orchards and mango groves climbing trees or picking mangoes or practicing swordplay on the beach or chasing each other through the narrow streets of sunspear or lounging about under the sun in one of the hidden courtyards.

that day, long ago, you and yunho were practicing your swordfighting with wooden swords you'd swiped from the training vaults, while wooyoung used his wooden sword to crouch in the sand to the side and draw silly renditions of the two of you, a pile of seashells towered by his feet. he always made your head too big and yunho's limbs much longer than the rest of him.

you'd knocked yunho over once again, grinning as he remained sprawled in the sand.

"you're quite terrible at this," you'd teased. wooyoung was the one with sword talent. you and yunho competed often for who was worse. today, it seemed yunho was winning.

yunho merely remained sprawled out on the sand, scowling at you when you poked at his sprawled form with the end of your sword. he did not give you a response, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

"hey," wooyoung looked up from his drawing, his expression almost pensive. his brows were furrowed together and he wrapped his arms around his knees, the wooden sword dangling from his fingers. from your angle, woo looked tiny. he asked, his voice drifting on the breeze between the three of you, "what do you want to be when you grow up?"

you'd frowned, confused by wooyoung's sudden sincerity. he'd been quite serious all day, really, and he hadn't explained why, merely choosing to remain quieter than usual. you and yunho exchanged a look. you'd both wondered aloud what was weighing him, but you neither of you had wanted to ask him. sometimes, questions set wooyoung off worse when he fell into one of his quiet moods.

yunho shrugged, his gaze fixed on the sky, "i'm going to be the prince of dorne. and you're going to be my army's combat general. y/n is going to be my diplomat."

wooyoung grimaced, straightening his back as his eyes narrowed. there was a storm brewing beneath his expression that you did not understand at the time. he said, "i am not asking what father and mother decided we'd be. what do you want, yunho?"

yunho blinked, craning his neck to examine wooyoung. whatever he saw softened the furrow of his brow. he said, "i do not know, brother. i've never considered doing anything else."

"don't you think you should?" wooyoung sighed.

you'd frowned at wooyoung then, your voice quiet, "what is this about?"

wooyoung looked up you for a long moment, before he shrugged, and he said, "of course yunho doesn't know. for a boy with access to all the lessons in the world, you're quite shit at using your own brain aren’t you?"

there was a teasing lilt to wooyoung's voice, under all the other emotions.

yunho rolled his eyes, but you could see a hint of hurt cross his features. then yunho chucked his wooden sword in wooyoung's direction. you giggled at how far off the throw was. wooyoung put a hand over his heart, offended.

you spoke then, if only to offset the hurt you'd seen in yunho's eyes for just a moment. you loved wooyoung, but he tended to say things that were quite mean, even if he only meant it in jest. "leave yunho alone, woo. why wonder and dream of other possibilities when your future is already set in stone?"

yunho's smile was small, though his nod was vigorous as he threw wooyoung a smug look. wooyoung stuck his tongue out at yunho.

"well what about you, y/n? what do you want to be when you grow up?"

he'd raised a brow, ignoring you completely.

"kind," you said with a shrug, humoring him. you'd thought about it often anyway. you said, "like the cooks when they're tired but they still make us extra desserts, and the ladies by the well, and like the stable boy that takes care of the horses at the east end."

wooyoung blinked at you, and that stormy look returned.

"you are already kind," yunho muttered, pushing himself up to a seated position. he rolled his eyes, though the act was good-natured, "just admit you don't know either."

"so woo can also declare me an idiot?"

"at least with you, he's not wrong."

you'd kicked yunho’s foot, and he giggled in response.

wooyoung's voice was soft as he pursed his lips. his words, however, were sly as he pointed his wooden sword at you, "i knew you’d taken a liking to the stable boy."

"i did not!" you tossed your stick at wooyoung, and unlike yunho, you did not miss. wooyoung shrieked when it hit his arm with a light thwack. he sprawled out on the dirt, clutching his arm as if you'd stabbed him with a real sword.

you'd rolled your eyes, calling over his whining, "and what about you?"

he paused in his rolling in the sand, pouting as he said, "i'm not certain i want to grow up. father is always traveling to the other kingdoms for his meetings, and mother never looks happy anymore."

"it's politics," yunho said. "the kingdom comes first."

"even if it costs you your happiness?" wooyoung waved a hand around them, "even if we won't be able to spend hours at the beach?"

"is that what makes you happy?" you asked, softly, smiling a bit at the thought. "spending time with us?"

"don't make it sappy, y/n." wooyoung snapped, though he would not meet your gaze and his smile was visible even from where you stood. "i only wonder what doing something you do not love does to a person. father is distant, and mother drinks so much i heard the kitchen servants mention that it was concerning. what if you cannot be kind, y/n? what if we all become terrible? what if we forget what we love?"

you'd blinked at his sincere words. wooyoung was always profound. he appeared thoughtless and loud and reckless, but you knew he spent too much time thinking when he was alone, and he cared more than he'd ever let on. where yunho was loud with his love, despite being reserved and held back with everything else, wooyoung was the opposite. quiet with his love, but exaggerated in his teasing, and rowdy, and always so there. always thinking of you all, it seemed.

"oh," yunho's voice was a quiet thing, "you think if we don't know what we want to be when we grow up, then we'll become something we never imagined? that we will become something we hate? is that it?"

yunho stared at the sky, as if he was speaking to the gods.

wooyoung pursed his lips, his eyes fixed on yunho’s profile. he hung in yunho’s words as if he would have the answers. yunho always knew the answers, how to logically soothe the most anxious of thoughts.

but yunho did not say a word, he only stared at the sky.

wooyoung drew his knees closer to his chest.

"well, why are those the only options? why do we become terrible just because we don't have a dream or goal? why do we need one? there are plenty of people who don't have dreams or goals, woo, and they turned out all right." you spoke up, your voice ringing in the silence.

"those people aren't meant to inherit kingdoms and armies though," wooyoung muttered, frowning.

"my point still stands," you said, nudging yunho's foot with your foot, "right, yun?"

yunho craned his neck in your direction, to wooyoung, and he said, "yes, exactly."

wooyoung rubbed the back of his neck, but he seemed to relax at yunho's confirmation. he never took your word for anything. you found yourself rolling your eyes as wooyoung asked yunho, "really?"

yunho nodded vigorously, and woo smiled, and you said, "see. really."

~.~.~.~.~

it was outside the kitchens, after your family had sailed away, sat on a bench the servants often used to take their meals while you brushed toasted sugar from your finger tips, when mingi finally broke the silence, "i was eight years old when i was sent to king's landing."

that brought you pause.

mingi fiddled with one of the sweets in front of him, his armor clinking softly.

you held your breath as you waited for him to continue. mingi did not divulge information about himself often, and you knew this was a rare occurrence. all that could be heard from your spot in the dark corner outside the kitchens was the distant sound of servants and cooks scrambling in the kitchen. the pitter-patter of hurried footsteps echoed off the stone walls. the smell of roasting meat carried through the air. a bout of laughter here. a scolding there. the clatter of dishware. the world was anything but silent even as you two sat with in silence. you watched mingi scratch idly at the wooden tabletop.

mingi did not say more.

after a long minute, you broke the silence with a tentative voice, "you were brought here? then are you...were you a ward, too?"

you found yourself enraptured by the image of mingi as a ward. sometimes wards were not hostages, not always. sometimes, there were other reasons for lords, ladies, and lieges to place their children in wardships. sometimes, there was a genuine want to build a mutual relationship of trust and love between houses and the ward maintained their freedoms. from the way hongjoong - the red keep really - seemed to adore mingi, you figured that must have been the case. it angered you to know that the red keep was capable of kindness, that a ward could be beloved and treated more than a hostage. you did not want to fault mingi for that.

it made sense. mingi was bastard born, thus carrying the name flowers long before adopting the name and sigil of house song.

in dorne, bastards were treated as equals. in westeros, bastards were punished for simply being born. bastards were treated like scum too often, and you found the practice a despicable thing. even legalized, bastards faced scorn. you peered at mingi in concern, waiting.

"no," mingi let out a small chuckle, shaking his head, "i was no ward. my father...lord song brought me with him to live in king's landing while he worked in the small council. no one considered me their ward. not the king nor lord song. i was merely a motherless bastard lucky to be accepted in the prince’s inner circle."

"oh," you'd blinked at the information, unsure how to respond or what to ask.

"she passed from the pox a few months before lord song found me and we set off to king's landing," mingi divulged, seeming to take pity on your confusion. he said, "i had nowhere else to go, really. even then, the king did not legitimize me for a long, long time."

mingi's expression was distant. you watched as he shook his head, a smile gracing his lips. he said, "i understand how it feels to be left behind, y/n. to miss a home that no longer feels like home. before i was legitimized, lord song left me behind in the red keep. he could not take me back to highgarden. lady song did not take kindly to my existence.”

"what about after you were legitimized?"

"lady song did not change her mind surrounding my existence. i believe being legitimized bothered her more," mingi said with a nonchalant shrug as he leaned back and picked at his nails. everything about him was nonchalant. despite his words. despite never having a home in the lands from which he was born.

that thought made your heart ache, the same way it had when you'd watched your family leave. soon you would live in king's landing longer than you had in dorne. soon you would not have a home in the lands in which you were born, either. sure, your brothers were still there. your parents. but if your brothers have changed so much, then what of your home? what of sunspear? how would you reconcile that as well? you could not blame mingi for his nonchalance. it was easier to remain indifferent then let the worries consume you.

“i never understood the shame westeros has surrounding bastards," you said instead, shaking your head of your thoughts as you frowned at mingi, "it is no fault of yours that your father broke his vows to his wife. a babe should not be shamed for such a thing."

mingi blinked at you, his dark eyes flickering in surprise over your face. his fingers curled around each other briefly, before he shrugged once more. a perfect picture of unbothered. he said, "i've heard dorne treats their bastards well. your judgement is biased.”

"being born is not a crime,” you'd scoffed. “westeros could learn a thing or two from dorne."

mingi smiled, and this time it was genuine. sweet, almost.

you frowned at him as realization dawned on you, "then, lord song left you here alone? every time he returned to highgarden?”

lord song, to this day, visited his home, highgarden in the reach, almost once a month. he made it known to anyone who would listen that he loved and missed his wife dearly. perhaps he did, or perhaps he was overcompensating for his past adultery. either way, it meant he always left king's landing on his own. you recalled how mingi often mentioned that lord song had left for highgarden, how he'd shrugged and he appeared so nonchalant. you'd always assumed mingi chose to stay back, but now that you knew that was never truly the case, your heart tugged for him. yeosang used to spend more time with mingi when his father left. you remembered that much from your childhood. you remembered hongjoong would throw his arm over mingi's shoulders and drag him down to his height. they were always more affectionate with mingi, but you'd never realized why. your frown deepened at the thought of mingi alone somewhere in the red keep, so often. it was an image that was difficult to reconcile with.

"he did," mingi shook his head at your expression, waving his hands in a placating manner, “but i wasn’t completely alone. i had hongjoong and yeosang. san and jongho too whenever they visited. eventually, you were here, too.”

his mention of you was surprising. you'd never thought he cared much for your company. you'd spent too often arguing with hongjoong or scoffing at yeosang. you never thought much of the times hongjoong or yeosang would say something terrible and the two of you would lock gazes over their shoulders, grimaces matching. he'd sometimes shake his head, attempting to deter you, and you would roll your eyes before you spoke up anyway. of course, he sat with you in the library and listened to you read often, and he voluntarily paired off with you during lessons more often than not. he even used to throw yeosang looks when his teasing became too cutting, too pointed, but you'd always believed that was merely what mingi did. you never thought he'd learned to see you as anything but a ward, a hostage of the king's that was lumped together with him and his companions for propriety’s sake. when san courted you, you believed mingi only saw you as an extension of san, and now as an extension to hongjoong. you did not think he saw you as a person, let alone a comforting presence of any sort due to your circumstances.

as you looked at him, and the softness in his eyes, and the small smile on his lips, you detected care. at least a hint of it. it made your thoughts reel.

that had always been your dilemma at king's landing. no one cared much about you as a person. they only ever cared for you due to your status or who you were bound to. even san, though he seemed to care enough to provide you comfort, had other intentions. you wondered, briefly, if mingi would dare devote himself to you. could you ask him for favors? would he carry out your orders? were you thinking ahead of yourself?

you blinked away your, frankly, treacherous thoughts as you murmured into the silence, “it must have been lonely though.”

“it was,” mingi murmured, “as you are well aware of, i’m sure."

you'd frowned.

"i know i am a kingsguard with vows that may not serve you, but," mingi gave you a small, genuine smile, "i am also your friend, y/n."

"is that not a contradiction?" you'd asked then, "to be my friend, to care for me as such, is an insult to the king."

mingi blinked, a slow thing, and he said, "you are married to the king's son."

"a son he does not care much for," you muttered. it was a push, you knew, especially to say such a thing to a member of the kingsguard and to a long-time friend of hongjoong's, but you wanted to know how far you could push him. how deep did the care in his eyes run?

could you make it deeper?

the thought made your stomach churn, the way it did when hongjoong spoke to you the night of your wedding. it was a mixture of fear, and a morbid curiosity, an interest, that you were not sure what to do with.

you focused on mingi. he bit his lip, his gaze slipping past your shoulder for a moment, before he looked at you once more. he said, "the king cannot hurt hongjoong. he cannot hurt you."

"how do you know that?"

"i don't," mingi's brows furrowed into a pained expression, "but i know that i will not stand by and let it happen."

you'd blinked, "are you admitting that you'd turn your cloak?"

"i've turned my cheek too many times, y/n, to too many atrocities," mingi sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, his armor clinking softly. "i do not think i could live with myself if i allowed hongjoong and you to get hurt. if i must become a turncloak, then so be it.”

it was always hongjoong in the end.

but you can use that, a voice at the back of your head whispered.

it sounded like hongjoong, and it left a bad taste in your mouth, but you knew the voice was right. you'd pushed mingi, and he let you, and as long as you allowed him to frame his care in a way that appeared as if he was protecting hongjoong, too, then perhaps his devotion could mean something more to you. perhaps, this was what yunho meant. you were the heir's spouse. you had power. sure, it was tied to hongjoong, but did hongjoong have to know how you wielded it? he whispered that he'd teach you, but perhaps you could teach yourself.

"i appreciate your honesty, mingi," you'd sighed. "i know it's difficult to admit such a thing."

mingi dipped his head, his sweet smile making your heart curl in around itself. he said, "you'd asked for honesty once before, y/n, and i do not wish to dismiss your request. i understand hongjoong can be a handful, but you should remember that he listens to yeosang and me. i'm sure you can handle yourself, but if you ever...if you..." mingi cut himself off as he stiffened, shaking his head, "i apologize, i realize i may be speaking out of turn."

you'd shook your head, endeared by his stutter. you did not think yeosang could be helpful, not in the way you thought mingi could be, but you still said, "don't apologize. admittedly, i do need...help with hongjoong sometimes."

mingi's eyes flashed with an emotion you could not place. he only nodded.

you said, "if i need anything, i will ask for you."

he dipped his head in acknowledgement, even as he stood. he held out a hand to take, his armor clinking softly with his movements. you took his hand, allowing him to help you.

"thanks," you said, after a moment of walking silently side-by-side through the halls, "for this. for talking to me."

mingi smiled, and it was a genuine thing, and you almost felt terrible for thinking of using his kindness for your own means.

almost.

~.~.~.~.~

the mad king still held tourneys as if the red keep is not wrought with the stench of burnt bodies, and the courts do not whisper of the king's sure demise. the queen no longer makes public or private appearances.l, except with a select few. mingi often appears haggard when he steps into the library or settles into his assigned post outside hongjoong's chambers. you'd questioned him often, and all mingi would say was that he'd had a long shift guarding the king or queen.

"sweet thing," yeosang grinned, dragging his fingers through his tousled, long blond hair as one of the servants adjusted his jousting armor over his shoulders. kang crimson and gold glinted off his armor as he leaned close and tilted his head, "did you enjoy the matches?"

you could not say that you did.

it had gone as all public appearances for you had, you with your elbow hooked through hongjoong's as you two were announced, the cheering, and you and hongjoong donning his kim black and red, the dragon sigil blaring. the mad king would not attend. he never did. his paranoia was an all-consuming thing. it left hongjoong and you to entertain his father's guests. you watched that evening as hongjoong had roared, waving his jousting sword, as he gathered flower wreath favors from too many to count. as usual, he'd stopped in front of where you sat last, and he presented the tip of his sword.

that night, you'd refused him as you always did, and the whispers were louder than ever. at first, the court believed it playful banter, but it has been too long since you'd been wedded, almost two name days of yours since the event really, and now the amusement had morphed into something more sinister. the king lacking favor made the disdain hongjoong, and ultimately you, received worse.

that night something ferocious flashed in hongjoong's gaze, but he'd only grinned and bowed his head.

that night he lost.

you saw it, in the way he was distracted as his gaze flit across the stands, past you. you'd followed his gaze. you did not wish to care, but your gaze followed his without a second thought.

you saw a man, around your age, around hongjoong and mingi and yeosang and san's age, with hair black as a raven and skin as smooth as the calmest of seas, and his clothes were muted. everything about him was muted, yet he held your attention. you understood why hongjoong fumbled with his sword. why he faltered just at the sight of this man. the man was beautiful. the moon, personified.

he was everything you were not.

hongjoong's second match ended with the opponent he lost to lying flat on his back and heaving for air he could not and did not have, blood sputtering down his lips and half of his face smashed in. he would be dead in minutes, you knew, and the thought only made you tired.

when the tourney finished, you stood waiting for hongjoong, and yeosang appeared in front of you, his sweaty brow glistening under the setting sun, his eyes twinkling as he eyed you in curiosity.

you ignored his question, your gaze sweeping over the other participants, until you found the man who had made hongjoong falter smiling quite sweetly as he spoke with san. you'd blinked. in the stands, the man was the epitome of stoicity, of ice, of the coldness of the moon, but here his smile was a pretty thing. it warmed your heart, the way the afternoon sun would warm your skin when you laid in it. he was everything but cold then.

"park seonghwa," yeosang's low voice settled over you.

you tore your gaze from seonghwa and san, from the way hongjoong sauntered up to san and pat him on the shoulder, turning to the man - park seonghwa - with a wide, toothy grin and unwavering eyes. "what?"

"that is park seonghwa. i am surprised san found a way to convince seonghwa to join us for the tourney," yeosang grinned, but his eyes were fixed on you. "ever since seonghwa left the eyrie, he's kept himself locked away in the north. something about awaiting the north's treacherous winters at winterfell.”

you'd heard the venom laced in yeosang's tone as he spoke. it was not well-hidden, or perhaps you have gotten quite good at picking up on the changes in yeosang after so many years in his vicinity.

you knew of house park, known for their honor and their generosity. the winters up north were long and treacherous, and you did not fault him for remaining in winterfell to help his kingdom last through it. division would bring ruin to any kingdom, but especially to one living under such harsh conditions.

still you focused on the mention of san and the venom in yeosang's expression. you frowned at yeosang, searching his expression for a moment. when he met your inquiring gaze, his smile grew sly. you'd frowned as you said, "why would san have any sway over park seonghwa?"

yeosang let out a small laugh. he said, "seonghwa was fostered in the vale when he was eight years old. jongho and san spent many years there under house lim’s care as well. in fact, jongho and san have quite a long history with seonghwa. rumor has it jongho is smitten with him, though i would not dare repeat such slander."

"oh," you were surprised, and yeosang latched onto to it. you could see it in the way the corner of his mouth tipped upwards and his eyes glinted under the setting sun. you shook your head, "right. why is he here then?"

yeosang pursed his lips. his grin slipped into a steely expression, "i have no idea. diplomacy, perhaps?"

you did not believe him. kang yeosang knew everything. his father was not the only resourceful kang.

you'd rolled your eyes, and yeosang only grinned, shrugging. the conversation ended when hongjoong entered, his jousting armor and helmet gone, his long white-blonde hair tied back into a neat knot. he was spotless, his rings glinting in the setting sun as he held his arms out in greeting, smile all teeth. his eyes fell on you first, lingering briefly before his gaze slid to his friends. he did not look at you again.

that night, hongjoong placed a warm hand at the middle of your back, and he waved mingi over. his gaze never met yours, but his thumb settled into a small pattern along the middle of your back. even through your robes, his hand was warm. you had a bit of ale in you. that was why you did not stiffen the way you should have. at least that was how you planned to explain away the feeling the next morning.

you only stiffened when hongjoong called for mingi a second time, pulling him from a conversation with yeosang. mingi sauntered over, entirely too sober, and hongjoong grinned, his hand flat on your back, unmoving, "ser mingi, take y/n to our chambers so they may rest."

you'd blinked at the demand. the dismissal.

mingi only bowed.

you glanced yeosang's way, and he waved to you, a toothy grin gracing his features, his cheeks pink from his ale. he raised his mug to you in mock salute. you'd looked away.

your gaze slid to san then. it often did, whenever he stayed at the red keep. and he would always react the same. san only ever returned your glances with blank, unreadable eyes. like he was a stranger, as you asked. you met seonghwa's gaze over their shoulders. over hongjoong's shoulder.

seonghwa hovered, separate from the rest of the group, where he merely observed the scene in front of him. something about him brought irritation to the pit of your stomach. he was fostered, yeosang had said, and you knew that in an ideal world, without the mad king's twisted intentions, that would have been your fate instead of the glorified hostage you had been delegated to.

fosterage and wardship were two sides of the same coin. however, where you were a hostage, never meant to return to sunspear no matter if you fell to your knees and begged for it, seonghwa could. fostered children were free to travel between both kingdoms as they pleased once they turned of age. a fostering was what you believed you’d been walking into at four-and-ten.

perhaps the bubbling tension in the pit of your stomach was something of a rage. or perhaps, when hongjoong glanced back over at seonghwa, and you caught a twinkle in his eyes and a familiar darkness, a familiar want, you knew the tension at the pit of your stomach was something else, something close to concern, close to understanding that hongjoong wanted creatures of the sun and the stars, and that his greed knew no bounds. he had a creature of the sun, and now he wanted a creature of the moon. he wanted, and he took, no matter the consequences, and he was not above ruining those very same creatures for it.

you met seonghwa's dark eyes once more, and he did not smile. he truly reminded you of the moon when it sat highest in the night sky. bright, silent, and so bitingly cold.

"go on," hongjoong said, pushing you in mingi's direction, his fingertips brushing down your back, a featherlight touch.

hongjoong did not have to say it for you to understand. celebrations were in order, and you were not invited. you were dismissed.

how dare he dismiss you? a voice that sounded eerily like hongjoong whispered at the back of your head. you did not entertain that voice, as you would not entertain hongjoong.

you'd only nodded, catching a flash of disappointment flit through hongjoong's expression. the ale brought a vindictive thought to you head. a vindictive, as he should be, as you'd taken your leave.

that night, in the empty hall leading to your chambers, something you could only describe as a beast reared its ugly head from the pits of your being. you'd come to a halt and you stared at mingi's retreating back. you called after him, your quiet voice echoing off the high walls, "can i ask a favor of you, mingi?"

your voice sounded emptier, different. you often looked in the mirror and wondered if you'd been reborn a new person when you'd wedded hongjoong. a tiny voice at the back of your head would always respond, not when you wedded hongjoong. when they left.

mingi's boots stopped thumping. his tall figure seemed to slump under your words, as if he could feel the weight of them. perhaps he could. perhaps your words were heavier than you gave them credit for. his armor no longer clinked.

he'd merely turned, and looked to you. his arms hung at his side, and his eyes bore into your skull.

"have you heard of 'the dornish man'?" you asked.

"do you mean the tavern at west end?"

you'd nodded.

"why?" mingi gave no warnings that the tavern sat nestled between brothels and seedy inns, nor that hongjoong would have his head if you two were caught beyond the walls of the red keep without his knowledge. he only wanted to know your reasons, the question hanging over you two. it clawed against stone walls. it rang high and true. over and over and over. it rang in your ears. it burrowed in your skin.

you should tell him the truth, but you could not. you would not. you thought of the bloodied man hongjoong had maimed during the tourney. all the others before that knight. the thoughtful kindness in seonghwa's eyes as he spoke to san, when he met your gaze as you were dismissed. the anxious bubble at the pit of your stomach as you looked on. as hongjoong's smile stretched across his face when he met seonghwa’s eyes. you thought of your brother holding you, his voice as firm as his touch, you are the spouse's heir.

so, instead you said: "i miss my home."

you looked up at him, softened your brows, and when you met mingi's gaze, he faltered. he faltered as you knew he would, and perhaps you were evil for the way you made your voice tremble and your brows furrow, but you would not allow yourself to falter. not tonight.

mingi's jaw clenched as he looked away. his armor clinked as he dragged a hand through his messy dark hair.

"i only need you to cover me. you do not need to join me," you said.

the silence after you spoke was tense. you did not move.

finally mingi said, "letting you go to the west end alone would only worry me more."

you'd blinked at him. you expected he would not give in, that he would not allow you to push him even just that bit. you certainly did not expect such an admission. all you could say was, "oh."

mingi sighed as he dragged a hand through his dark hair, "two hours. that is all we have."

you nodded, grinning, and mingi's lips twitched up into a small smile of his own.

~.~.~.~.~

the streets of king's landing was not as thrilling as you remembered it with hongjoong. you slipped through the crowds and sidestepped merchants, pickpockets, and drunks alike, following mingi so closely your nose brushed against his back whenever he came to a sudden stop - he removed his outer armor and stashed it in the closet hongjoong had the servants clear for you, donning a simple brown cloak. mingi looked younger without his kingsguard armor and cloak. your heart constricted at the thought. still, you found yourself moving forward.

you could have told him to turn around at any moment. that was what stayed with you most on that journey. you had plenty of time to turn back, to not drag a well-meaning mingi into your plans, to remain a shadow in the red keep for the rest of your days while hongjoong did whatever he wished.

but you did not, and you would not have, and as mingi looked back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes always vigilant, there was a glint of knowing lingering there as his gaze met yours. he'd raised a brow, and you'd smiled, and mingi merely nodded to himself. you recognized the brothels and the alley as you drew closer, and when mingi opened the door to the tavern, you stepped up the creaking stairs with your heart lodged in your throat and your fingers curled around the fabric of your cloak, limbs filled with nervous energy.

you both stood at the threshold to the tavern, and not an eye strayed your way when you entered. the tavern was filled with the harsh stench of cigar smoke, a hint of grilled meat, and the usual staleness of old mead, and though your heart was lodged in your throat, you knew right then that you'd stepped into this new role and there was no backing out. not now.

mingi took a seat at one of the tables, and you gestured to the bar. he waved you on, but his eyes remained on your back. you leaned against the bar, and the barkeep was a familiar face. the owner hongjoong had pointed out earlier. his skin was like yours - no longer kissed by the sun as it once was, but still different from the rest of king’s landing’s patrons, still so obviously dornish - and his hair was like yunho's. his smile was a sweet, playful thing, like wooyoung. your heart leapt against your ribs.

he truly looked as dornish as they came, bright traditional robes and all.

the thought only pressed you closer to the bar, your fingers curling around the edge of the wooden table.

since the wedding, you'd returned to writing shallow letters to your brothers and parents through lord kang and his council. sometimes, you'd lie awake in hongjoong's too big bed and wonder if you'd died the morning your family boarded that ship and crossed the sea to sunspear without you.

half of your heart, half of your soul, half of your wit, half of your patience, half of you, it had had all gone with them, you knew, tucked under wooyoung's waving arm and yunho's melancholic smile. you laid on your side too often, watching hongjoong sit beside melting candlelight as he perused through documents, his back always to you, and you started to wonder who you'd become because of it. before the wedding, you would have never thought to push mingi's boundaries just because you saw a hint of care in his eyes. you would have never left the red keep in the dead of night. nearly two name days later - you were no longer sure of the exact day, if you were honest - you were doing everything you would never have done prior to this.

the barkeep met your gaze, and his eyes widened in what you hoped was recognition. he dipped his head in greeting as he made his way over to you, throwing a rag over his shoulder. he leaned forward and said, "welcome to the dornish man. how may i help you?”

his eyes bore into yours, his smile crooked. you swallowed your nerves and lifted your chin, meeting his gaze straight on with a resolve you had not mustered in quite some time. it filled you like a fire, like the fires from hongjoong's dragon or the greenfire that the mad king used to burn so many at the stake. you said, "what would you recommend?"

you tilted your head as you watched the man contemplate you. a small smile crept upon the man's lips as he seemed to decide something right then.

"hmm," his eyes twinkled, "may i recommend our sunspear special? it is a mango dish rumored to be the prince of dorne's heir's most coveted dish. he requests for it every evening, i've heard."

your sweetest summers were spent with yunho and wooyoung climbing mango trees. each of you would pick the reddest of mangoes, and you'd sit with your knees knocking against each other as you peeled them with yunho's blunt silver dagger, your fingers sticky with the sweet juices, the soft fruit melting on your tongue. the juices would often run down the corners of your mouth and you'd wipe it with the back of your hand and wooyoung would call you disgusting and you'd wipe your hands on him in response. yunho would laugh his belly-ache of a laugh.

every summer you'd ruin your clothes with ripened mangoes and blackened dirt. the three of you knew your mother would scold you for it later, but in the summer your mother stayed in her chambers or the gardens and all that remained in those moments was the sweltering heat and the sweet taste of mango on your tongue. it was always one of your favorite times of the year. wooyoung used to bounce on his toes as he rushed you and yunho to the mango groves. yunho often indulged wooyoung in his insistent shouts to race there. you'd watched them run on ahead, and you'd waved off the call from your mother to return before sunset as you walked after them.

the summer before you left for king's landing, when you were three-and-ten, you and yunho sat beneath the shade of one of the tallest mango trees, the soft sweet aroma of ripened mangoes filling the air. the two of you watched wooyoung climb along the branches of one of the trees, tugging himself up onto the tallest branch before he nestled between the trunk and its branch, his neck craned as he stared at the blue sky. the crimson color of the mango in his hands glinted brightly under the summer sun. one could mistake it for a jewel. yunho's voice drew your attention from wooyoung, his voice soft as the summer breeze. he asked, "do you think we will ever grow too old for this?"

"for what?" you'd blinked at yunho's melancholic tone, "picking mangoes?"

"no," yunho shook his head, gesturing vaguely around him, "for all of this, y/n."

a crease formed between his brows. you'd always hated the way worry contorted yunho's features into something unrecognizable. it never looked right on him, no matter how often you've seen such a look on him since he started his heir studies with father.

yunho sighed, "for each other."

you'd frowned, "we'll never be too old for each other, idiot."

you expected yunho to reprimand you or toss a mango pit at you. instead he only slumped further against the tree trunk behind him, his brows contorting into something dreadful.

"i am destined to be the heir, and woo will lead our armies, and you will..." he'd trailed off, frowning once more. his eyes welled with tears, and your eyes widened at the sight. wooyoung showed sadness, even you did, but yunho? not since he learned of his future calling. you watched as he blinked away his emotions, as he straightened, his back rigid. as he took the form of the pillar he believed he needed to be. it was a habit he'd picked up over the years, that wooyoung was beginning to pick up too. perhaps you were, as well.

"i'll be here, too," you scooted closer, bumping your shoulder against his, "i know my talents do not lie with pretty words or complicated strategies or with the sword like you and woo, but i'll find something useful to do so i can help you be a good prince to dorne. i have time to figure that out, and so do you. i understand you worry, but you do not have to, yun."

you bumped his shoulder harder this time, and he pouted at you, rubbing his shoulder. he did not say anything. he only stared down at his lap.

at the time, you had not understood what he'd known, and for years you did not. but you'd laid awake too often replaying and picking apart every memory you've ever had to not have realized that yunho knew you were going to be sent away. the guilt in his eyes was as clear as day now that you remembered, years later, and you hated your father for placing such a burden on him.

at the time, yunho always worried, and both you and woo teased him relentlessly for it. but you knew that sometimes it affected him more than he ever let on. sometimes, you sat with him and let him worry until his expression morphed into the face of creature you never recognized. you knew that was because he always came back. as you did. as woo would.

so, at the time, you'd reached for his hand and threaded your fingers through his worried fists, ignoring the picked skin of his fingernails, and you said, "most importantly, i'll be here every harvest season to climb the mango trees with you both. you're both awful at climbing anyway."

you'd gestured with your chin in wooyoung's direction, and you grinned as you watched wooyoung struggle to climb down the tree, mangoes spilling from the sling he'd looped around his neck, his curses echoing through the grove. you turned, nudging yunho, waiting for a giggle. it did not come. you remembered faltering at the sight of yunho blinking rapidly at the sight, his chin trembling the slightest bit. you only squeezed his hand.

he closed his eyes, and took a shuddering breath. he returned to the yunho you knew as he wiped at his cheeks with his free hand, and when he met your gaze again, he was all kind eyes, the sun shining off his dark brown, his smile amused.

he said, "perhaps climbing mango trees is your only true calling, y/n."

you'd scowled at him, and he threw back his head and laughed, and wooyoung plopped onto the ground in front of you both, covered in dirt, leaves caught in your hair, mangoes tumbling from his arms, ignoring your admonishments that he was bruising the fruits, and that day returned to the soft, hazy summer afternoon you often basked in.

you were three-and-ten when you'd spent your last summer picking mangoes with your brothers, despite your promise.

the memory made you stare at the barkeep, your heart pounding against your ribs. your voice was small to your ears as you asked, "a mango dish is the heir's favorite?"

the man dipped his head, "so i’ve heard. our mangoes are sweet as well. they are in season after all."

and in that moment, you allowed the hope in your chest to thrive. you allowed yourself to nod. to feel a sliver of hope for just a little while. it’s been years since you had.

the barkeep placed the dish in front of you, and the faint scent of mangoes reminded of you hazy summer afternoons and an unkept promise.

the barkeep said, "would you like me to place any special orders to dorne? it appears you, like me, miss our home quite a bit."

"do you deliver letters?" it was bold, but you were never one to beat around the bush.

the barkeep outright grins. he said, "woo said you had no patience for pretty words and riddles. i did not know your patience would run thin so quickly."

you'd blinked. "you know -"

"my name is yeonjun, your grace," the barkeep murmured, "and i only serve dorne. your letters will remain sealed among our shipment requests. lucky for us, the lords, lieges, and ladies of king's landing have taken a liking to dornish cuisine. i've made quite a number of shipments since i've opened."

you'd grinned, you could not help it. you knew you could not trust yeonjun yet, and you already knew you would need to confirm your brothers were receiving your letters before you truly let yourself believe in this opportunity. you knew you were not in the clear quite yet, but yeonjun's grin was an infectious thing. you'd grinned and grinned, and for the first time since you were a child alone in westeros, you had a channel of communication with your brothers that remained only yours.

~.~.~.~.~

"do you feel better?" mingi's voice was quiet in your empty chambers. he'd donned his armor in your chambers. the clinking of his armor as he tightened the plates had been the only sound between you both. you hadn't said a word since you left the tavern, since mingi picked at the mango dish with a small frown gracing his features, since he brought you back to the red keep.

you peered up at mingi. he towered over you, as he always did, his hair a mess of black, yet his brown eyes were unbearably tender. the guilt inside you reared its head once more, but you shoved it away. mingi knew you were asking him for favors that could get him in trouble. you were not holding a sword to his neck and demanding such things from him. you doubted you'd win in a sword fight anyway. you were not forcing him to help you, so you did not need to feel guilt.

you'd nodded. mingi's smile was the gentlest thing you'd seen in a while here in king's landing. it was the sea lapping against port, the way the horses in the stable would neigh softly as they tucked their heads against the stableboy's palm, and the way hongjoong rubbed his thumb along the crown of his dragon and the soft rumble that followed would remind you of a cat’s purr. mingi’s smile held all the little moments of gentleness you've witnessed here. it curled around your heart.

it was suffocating.

he placed a warm hand on your shoulder and he said, "i'm glad i could be of help, your grace."

you shouldn't encourage such gentility. yet, you knew you needed to solidify this moment. you needed this gentle mingi on your side. you needed his care for you to fuel him. so you pressed your hand over his. he stilled.

you said, "you always are of great help to me, mingi."

he blinked at you, before he turned away. his fingers curled into a fist, even as he bowed deeply before you, even as he hurried from your chambers. he left, and you refused to let your heart feel heavy.

but, you do not sleep.

~.~.~.~.~

that same night, hongjoong returned smelling of honeyed mead and sour ale, of sweat and smoke. of fire, really.

he stumbled through the room. you watched as he tore his shirt and tossed it into the darkness. he did this often when he returned after he believed you'd gone to bed. you'd always wondered why he did not light a lantern and stumbled in the dark.

he turned suddenly, as if he could feel your gaze on him, and when you met his gaze in the dark, you could only make out shadows.

he stood frozen, so you said, "just light a candle. it helps neither of us listening to you bumble about like an idiot."

there was a beat of silence. you could not make out his expression.

then he laughed. it's a soft thing that bounced off the high ceilings. you heard the strike of a match moments later.

the light of the candle on his desk was dim, and it took a moment for your eyes to readjust to the new lighting. the candlelight lit up his features. his eyes drooped, a heady drunken look to him that reminded you of the night of your wedding. you watched him stumble, until he reached for the ties of his pants. he paused, and your eyes flicked up to his, heat flooding your face when he grinned. he continued and you scowled, flipping over, only for his chuckle to echo in your chambers.

perhaps it was the remnants of the ale from the tourney, or the remnants of the adrenaline of sneaking out of the red keep and finding a channel of communication that was finally fully yours, or purely the inability to sleep, but you found yourself speaking quietly as you stared at the stone wall opposite you. "you had no right to dismiss me the way you did tonight.”

"hmm," hongjoong hummed, and it was closer now. you did not turn around, your fingers curling around the pillow at your head. "then why did you not stay?"

you frowned, shooting up to a sitting position. you turned to glare at him, and he remained where he had been earlier, though now he was fully dressed in his sleeping robes. "you wish for me to undermine you?"

he shrugged, as he stepped closer to the bed, twisting at the rings on his fingers, "undermine me? not quite. try to undermine me? perhaps."

"you're a right idiot," you'd shook your head, ignoring the way he stepped closer, the way he took a seat at the foot of the bed. "i am being serious, hongjoong."

"i am the picture of serious," hongjoong said, his words slurring the slightest bit.

"clearly," you'd sighed, said, "go to bed, hongjoong. you're drunk."

it was all too reminiscent of that night. despite that night being so long ago, it lived in your head, clear as day. you'd rolled your eyes at the way he raised his brows. you laid back down, turning your back to him. perhaps, that is a testament to how accustomed you've become to hongjoong's presence. you could turn your back on him without feeling like prey. you were unsure when that had started.

another moment passed before hongjoong's low voice drifted through your chambers, "if you did not wish to be dismissed, all you had to do was say something. if you do not like something, tell me."

you'd flipped back over, your fingers curled around your pillow as you looked down at hongjoong, who remained seated near your feet. "why?"

"you're my spouse, whether we like it or not," hongjoong muttered.

"'we'?" your voice sounded muffled to your own ears, "and here i thought it was just me who disliked this arrangement."

hongjoong tilted his head at you, his brows raised, questioning, waiting. oftentimes you wondered how he knew that you had more to say before you'd even said it.

you said, "i saw you falter during your match. you'd never been so distracted before."

hongjoong loved to say he would not be like his father, but you'd heard the rumors of his father's adultery. it went so far that the queen had to dismiss members of her own court, one of whom was rumored to be yeosang's mother. you watched as he scooted up the bed, as he reached out and pressed his fingertips to the burn scar on your arm, as he said, "i see the way you look at san, y/n. is it not the same?"

"is it?" you asked, frowning. san was hope to you, he was opportunities and a life lost. was park seonghwa the same to hongjoong? why did it concern you if he was?

hongjoong drew warm circles around your burn scar, each stroke softer than the last.

"be careful, y/n," he murmured, "you're beginning to sound rather jealous."

your stomach turned as he chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest.

"i do not care for your indiscretions," you scoffed. "i care that you dismissed me for another when our arrangement is meant to benefit us both.”

you did not want to revel in his statement. you did not want to admit to it. you did not want to delve into the thoughts that came after that green monster at the pit of your stomach, the wondering at hongjoong's greed, nor the moment of worry you felt for park seonghwa, despite everything. all hongjoong would ever know of was that you did not care. he would believe you did not care, and so would you. until the end of your days.

"are we supposed to benefit each other now?" hongjoong raised a brow.

"we could," you said, your eyes fixed on his. "we do not need to be friends, but -"

"we can be allies," hongjoong finished with a small, amused smile. you remembered the other night, when you'd had a conversation like this. he wanted you to beg that night. you'd refused, and you would refuse again. you would refuse until the day death came knocking at your door.

you'd nodded, "something like that."

"will you beg for it, then?"

you'd laughed, knowing he'd have the insolence to ask such a thing once more, but you found there was no venom bubbling at the pit of your stomach this time. perhaps it was his tone, the jest in it ringing between you both. you said, "not even if you held a knife to my throat."

"oh, wouldn't that be quite a lovely sight?" hongjoong murmured, and you were quite aware of the fingers on your skin, the proximity, the way your own fingers tightened around your pillow. the rough pad of hongjoong's thumb circled up to the crease of your elbow, "where do we go from here, then, y/n?"

you shrugged. where do you go from here? he was an unstoppable force, and you were an immoveable object. you would not be the one to concede. you refused.

but perhaps you could wield his power if he believed you on his side, then you could find other channels of communication you could call yours. you could have more than just yeonjun and his tavern. you could have more than just mingi to do your bidding.

"i need trust," you admitted, with a shuddering breath. it was never something you thought you'd tell him. not hongjoong. maybe it was easier to admit such a thing in the darkness, under melting candlelight, without the sun bearing witness to your admissions. "i need to be able to trust you."

can i ever trust him? you thought, and the answer was so wholly there. no, you could not. no, you were of dorne, and he was of king's landing, and he would not allow you to step foot in dorne again, let alone sunspear. you could not trust him. but, you slept with your back to him too many nights to count already. and you looked to him first when his father called you both to the courtyards for his executions. he was yours to benefit from. you could not trust him, and you would not, but you did not fear him as you once had. perhaps, that was a step in the right direction.

his finger stilled against the smooth skin of your burn scar, and he said, "do you want to know the first thing my father taught me?"

you'd blinked at the sudden question, watching hongjoong. he stared at your scar for a long moment, his fingers still. you shook your head.

"the word dracarys," hongjoong said, "it is from the old language. it is a command to our dragons to breathe fire. to burn everything. when i was a very small boy, my father called me to the pit. i never went there often, since there were so little dragons left and my father and his maesters wished to keep the dragons isolated. father insisted there was a matter he wished for me to resolve. at the time, i was excited that i was needed by my father. when i arrived there was a servant girl in the pit, no older than two-and-ten. just a few years older than me. she was pregnant, that much i could tell."

you watched as hongjoong's hand fell from your scar. his gaze was hardened as it met yours. he said, "the council was there that night as well. my father and his small council had her stand in the middle of the pit. she was dragged in the way you were, still in her sleep robes. i recognized her. even a small boy is privy to the red keep's rumors, y/n. my father bedded too many to count, and oftentimes it went ignored. this girl would not have been ignored. so, my father told me to say the word he taught me, and… and i did."

your nails dug into your palms as you laid there, your gaze fixed on hongjoong. "why are you telling me this?"

"isn't that where trust starts? from stories of the moments that made us who we are?"

"yes," you said, "i think it should."

hongjoong paused. you did not speak further. he expected a story from you. he expected something. perhaps even sympathy. you would not concede. you could only wonder for the poor servant girl, wonder if hongjoong would in fact burn a little girl alive without his father’s directions. you wondered often who he'd broken over the years, and as you laid in his bed you wondered if he would burden you with all he has ruined one day, in the name of trust.

finally, hongjoong nodded as he pushed himself off the bed. he reached over, and brushed hair from your forehead. his fingers lingered. you did not push his touch away. you only watched him as he did so. his dark, tired eyes flickered over yours as he murmured, voice sweet as honey, but laced with an edge that always lived in hongjoong no matter what, "we'll take it slow, then."

you watched as he blew out the candle and made his way to his bed.

~.~.~.~.~

the letter yeonjun returned to you was unsealed, untampered, and real. you knew this because of yunho's response, a simple perhaps climbing mango trees is not your only talent, little sibling, and his unbroken wax seal. it was him. it was untouched, and it was him, and you could not contain your excitement.

mingi had handed you the letter in the library, and after you'd brushed your fingers along the seal - the symbol of your house, a sun with a spear through it - and read yunho's words, fingers tracing over his inked writing, you'd tossed your arms around mingi, drawing him into a tight embrace.

mingi had stiffened in surprise, though he'd steadied you by the waist, his armor cold under your touch.

you caught yourself too late, stepping away with hurried apologies, embarrassed. mingi shook his head, his cheeks reddening, "it is all right, your grace."

it became a routine of sorts, to write your letters, and have mingi escort you to yeonjun's tavern. sometimes, he'd take the letters on his own. you would press a hand to his arm, or the top of his hand, and you'd thank him. mingi would hide his blush when you did. you'd feel awful for it, but the letters were enough to quell that guilt. you'd do it over and over again, despite the guilt.

yeonjun introduced you to the owner of the brothel across the street, a slight, beautiful woman with an air of regality to her that many speculated the origins of. she went by the name irene. you called the doe-eyed children she sent all about king's landing as her eyes and ears her little birds. she smiled at the phrase, but she smiled wider at the gold you promised her in payment. a contract, you’d both called it.

mingi did not trust her. you trusted her less than you trusted hongjoong, yet mingi seemed to think otherwise. still, despite his clear disapproval, mingi said nothing to you. he gave you irene's correspondence without question, and he gave her the gold you'd written off hongjoong's maester's ledger without batting an eye. mingi would ruin everything he had for you, that much you could tell.

but you did not stop on your new path.

instead, you stopped sleeping through the night.

~.~.~.~.~

the mountain that rides. lord kang's mad dog. most call him the mountain.

lady irene's words remained with you long after you'd read them, long after you'd tossed the letter into the library fireplace and watched it turn to blackened ash.

you’d gone about your day mulling over her words. now, you stood under the shade of a peculiarly bent tree with yellow blooms as bright as the gold of house kang's banners. the queen loved her flowers and trees, and this one in particular grew well even as executions took place beneath her blooms more often than not.

today, the tree oversaw outdoor festivities. the mad king was quite generous with his death sentences, but he was even more generous with his calls for celebration. spring was in full bloom, flowers sprouting throughout the kingdom, and that demanded for a spring festival.

you contemplated only for a moment, before you asked, "who is the mountain?"

perhaps, you should have learned to make your words prettier. you certainly partook in the kinds of games that required pretty words these days, yet you could care less when it came to having a sweet or sharp tongue.

yeosang stiffened beside you. you took a sip of wine from your cup as you watched him unclench his jaw, the taste sickly sweet on your tongue.

you both watched on as lord kang clapped a hand over hongjoong's shoulder, tilting his head, his smile matching yeosang’s as he spoke to hongjoong. hongjoong's stiff smile did not budge. the mad king was not here, as always, but his maester had gave quite a moving speech in his place, of westeros's greatest king and the dragons riding free, thriving, before food and drinks were announced shortly after. the mad king's presence would not be missed once the wine started flowing anyway. you took note when you'd entered that mingi, and a few of the other kingsguard, were not in attendance. you wondered often what the king did instead of attending his celebrations. you wondered often of the queen's fate. you had not seen her since your wedding. you had never had the chance to bond with her, but you worried for her. it was the same worry you felt in your chest when you first saw hongjoong lay eyes on park seonghwa. when hongjoong told you of the little girl he'd burned to ashes for his father.

"hmm," yeosang hummed after he caught his bearings, "dare i ask how you know of him?"

"you could dare," you said, tearing your eyes from hongjoong to meet yeosang's gaze. "clearly you know of him."

yeosang's gaze narrowed, but his smile was amused as always. "the mountain is father's new addition to the kingsguard."

his words were biting, but they matched what irene had informed you. at least she could be trusted, for now.

"i figured as much," you said, downing your cup of wine.

"you'd do well to stay away from him," yeosang's voice was low, but it brought you pause. you looked over your shoulder at him, watching his concerned gaze flicker over your face. kang yeosang and concerned did not quite match.

you raised a brow at him, amused, "now why is that?"

"do you think they call him 'the mountain' for fun?" yeosang sneered.

you rolled your eyes at yeosang's disparaging tone. he did not grin. in fact, the twinkle in his eyes was undetectable. he shook his head at you.

he said, "i do not know how you came upon such information, but, for your sake, for all our sakes, i pray you've guaranteed that thread cannot be traced back to you."

his warning left a bad taste on your tongue, exacerbated by the lingering taste of wine. you muttered, "i do not leave loose threads. i am not an idiot."

"i like to think you are not," yeosang said, "but it would do you well for you if the small council continued to believe that you were."

you'd frowned at him. even after establishing contact with yeonjun, you'd continued sending letters to your family through lord kang, if only to not raise suspicion. you assumed they’d continue underestimating your involvement, but yeosang's words implied that something had changed.

"do they have reason to believe i am, in fact, not an idiot?"

yeosang plucked a cup of wine from a passing servant, and placed it in your limp hands. his gaze flickered ahead, and you followed it. to lord kang. to the man dressed in kingsguard armor and a kingsguard cloak.

he towered over everyone, a beast of a man that had all the mad king's guests giving the man a wide berth. hongjoong was the only one who looked the man in the eye, his shoulders back and his chin held high, despite how far back hongjoong had to tilt his head to look up at the newly appointed knight. the knight's predatory expression, his unwavering eyes, and the way he only responded to lord kang’s instructions, left a chill beneath your bones, an acute sense of fear curling right down your spine. you knew right then that this man was the mountain - an apt name for a man like that - and that you did not want to be alone with him, ever.

“oh, sweet thing,” yeosang's hand brushed your elbow, drawing your attention to him. yeosang shook his head, his words ominous, "not yet.”

~.~.~.~.~

king's landing sustained itself off gold and whispers. secrets were not safe at court, and nothing ever went unseen. you should have known such a thing the moment lady irene introduced you to her little birds, some of whom were kitchen boys and errand girls and stablehands you'd seen too often in the red keep. she had eyes and ears in every nook and cranny. what was stopping the other lords, ladies, and lieges from doing the same?

you'd known the whispers well since you were four-and-ten. the people of king's landing did not view dorne kindly. even now, at something-and-twenty, they were a constant nuisance, trailing after you with terrible whispers wherever you went.

the rumors were particularly terrible after the king started preparations for your wedding to hongjoong. you and san had hardly kept your courting a secret, and you weren't the only one blindsided by the sudden arrangement to hongjoong. the whispers were harsh.

you'd tuned them out, mostly, but they still existed.

your refusal to give hongjoong your favor during tourneys was seen in good fun at first, but the whispers turned accusing very quickly. you were a sly fox, you'd heard from one of the ladies. prince hongjoong was kind enough, he was prince kim hongjoong, of course, so what was wrong with you to deny him?

you were seen downing too many cups of wine at king kim's spring festival. you were too familiar with the kingsguard, lord kang’s son.

the servants saw you leaving the library late in the evenings. you laughed too hard at one of the kingsguard's quips, lord song’s bastard son. you never laughed around prince hongjoong, the whispered accused.

prince hongjoong kissed the hand of lady jihyo of hightower at the tourney. surely, you were not working hard enough to keep his attention from others. what was wrong with you?

prince hongjoong left the celebrations too late. no one who loves his spouse would spend so long drinking ale so early in marriage. surely, you had said something to keep him away. you were not enough, you'd done something wrong, you were a fox, conniving, ungrateful, a who-

hongjoong raised a glass.

"a toast," he said, "to my father. may he remain healthy and strong. may he rule for many, many years to come. long live the dragons, long live king kim."

it would have amused you to no end, to attend the nameday celebration for a king who wasn’t even there, if the whispers were not so loud today, and the mood was not so damp.

the response to hongjoong's toast was half-hearted at best.

the king had certainly celebrated his nameday well; he'd beheaded half his upper ranked army officers the day before and hung their heads from the gates of king's landing. he’d done it based off suspicion of mutiny and a the beginnings of rebellion. king's landing had been quiet since then, eerily so. even the commonfolk could sense the tension.

the court bard waved his hand in response, and the sound of a fiddle filled the room, a jaunty tune that seemed to liven up the crowd better than the food and drink had. some took to the dance floor, prompting others to join.

you watched from your seat at the royal table above the festivities as members of the court shuffled to the dance floor, as wine flowed freely, and bouts of laughter echoed off the high ceilings. this was not the liveliest of dances you’ve attended, but it was enough for now.

some time after too many cups of wine, and a small brawl that had broken out on the floor - ser yuta and ser johnny had separated them before it could escalate into anything further - after the bard crooned as he swayed with his fiddle, the harpist strumming an angelic melody, after some ladies, lieges, and lords began shuffling out from the room and back to their beds, your septa beckoned to you.

you were too drunk, too, and you found that it was becoming a common occurrence for you. you slept better when you drank too much.

mingi helped you down the steps, and you'd grinned at him as he bowed exaggeratedly. you clutched his fingers.

the whispers were always whispers. though they were loud, they were never said to your face.

until that night.

"whore." the word was spat in your direction.

you'd known of that word since you were very little, and when news spread that you would not wed san, but rather hongjoong whore was thrown around more than your name. the hastiness of the arrangement was what made the court gossip.

you used to ignore it. you used to worry for how san would feel. or worse, how your mother would react if it ever reached her ears. your brothers. your father. you used to swallow your rage and let the whispers slip off your skin, pretending your skin was armor and you were left untouched.

mingi's hand went to the hilt of his sword, and his deep voice held an undercurrent of fury as he said, "how dare you speak to their grace in such a manner?"

but, by the gods, your skin was no armor, and you were everything but untouched. you were drowning in your rage and the whispers.

and the rage? the rage inside of you was a churning fire that clawed it's way out of you from the pit of your stomach. it burned right through you.

lord lim was an older man, a distant cousin to the kangs, and his family had deep roots in the royal army. one of the ten ranking officers who had been beheaded and put on display at the gates had been his nephew. his house fostered seonghwa, and hosted san and jongho when they were young boys. you knew this because you'd seen the note regarding family relations and condolences on hongjoong's desk.

the festivities continued all around you. drunk laughter, dancing, shouting, the bard cooing, drumbeats loud, rhythmic, the crooning of the harp and the fiddle. it all rang in your ears. the festivities continued, but your head was pounding.

lord lim laughed. his eyes were full of mirth. "my nephew is dead because the king believed he was plotting against the crown. the only person in this damned court who would plot against the king is you."

lord lim jabbed a finger in your direction. you should have left. you should have excused his treasonous words for grief-stricken rage fueled by drink, and excused yourself. you should have.

but you turned to him, and you said, "nothing you say is going to bring back your nephew. he is dead, and that is no fault of mine."

lord lim advanced on you, then, and fury and grief contorted his features into something ugly and monstrous. you felt the urge to laugh. his expression matched the feeling at the pit of your stomach. his displaced anger made you want to scream.

when he stepped towards you, mingi stepped between you both, his elbow braced as mingi shoved lord lim back. lord lim did not budge, his eyes fixed on you.

he hissed, "with the amount of times you’ve been passed around the red keep, you are no better than a common whore. you should have been the one hanging from the gates."

you opened your mouth, the rage at your stomach curling into your chest. you wanted to scream. wanted to take his displaced, irrational anger and toss it back at him. burn him alive with it. tear his mouth from his face with your bare hands. but you knew that his words only reiterated what the court whispered behind your back. you did not know what the public, the commonfolk, thought of you, but you knew the other nobles did not think highly of you. you did not know it was to that extent, and you never thought they'd say it out loud, but perhaps there was a first for everything.

only then did you realize how quiet it had gotten.

only then did you feel a hand on your back, heavy and warm, and a voice sharp as the edge of a sword.

“what did you say?”

lord lim spat, “you heard me.”

hongjoong shook his head, "guards, bring lord lim to the courtyard."

his words rang high and loud.

you turned, and hongjoong's gaze met yours. it was hard, angry, and full of fire. it was the same rage in your stomach, the same rage in lord lim's expression, but there was no grief there. he was merely cold fury.

lord lim protested as mingi grabbed lord lim's arms and yanked them behind his back, the other kingsguard drawing their swords. his shouts rang throughout the quiet room.

hongjoong turned to you, and he said, "do you wish to retire to your chambers, or do you wish to join me?"

you should have gone to bed.

your gaze followed mingi as he dragged a shouting, squirming lord lim behind him, the kingsguard following behind him.

you said, "i will join you."

despite the cold fury, a small smile tugged at the corner of hongjoong's lips.

the queen's yellow flowers were at their brightest, even under the moonlight.

hongjoong called for his dragon, and after a long moment, the wind picked up all around you. you looked up and his black dragon circled the courtyard as it prepared to land, it’s wings flapping. mingi tied lord lim to the very same blackened post his father tied so many others to before he used his green fire or his own dragon to execute them.

despite how quiet it was, the guests that were left lingered at the threshold to the courtyard. no one said a word, watching on in dread and anticipation. the distance made you feel strange. watched. revered. powerful. perhaps, simply feared.

hongjoong's dragon landed before you both, your robes whipping all around you. hongjoong's hair fluttered, his eyes glittering under the moonlight as he stared up at his dragon. up close, his dragon's black scales shone beneath moonlight, it's large, watchful eyes unblinking. the ground shook as it landed, and the crowd by the entrance to the courtyard stumbled back further into the fortress. further from you.

hongjoong stroked his dragon’s head, and it hummed in response.

hongjoong stalked closer then, to lord lim tied to the post, waving away his guards. lord lim looked small, kneeling in the middle of the courtyard the way he did. hongjoong said, "your words are treason of the highest order, lord lim."

"you cannot do this. you are not the king. you have no right!”

"but i am a kim, and i have a dragon.” hongjoong's voice, though low, shook with anger. "it's a shame you could not hold your tongue around my spouse, lord kim. now we shall decide whether you lose a limb or your life."

he looked over his shoulder at you, and he raised a brow at you.

you should have called him off. lord lim's voice broke with his cry.

yet, the rage in your stomach turned to something that resembled glee, and you kept your mouth shut. you did not shake your head, and that was permission enough.

hongjoong's dark eyes flickered over your face, his eyes softening for just a moment. then he turned back to lord lim, and he grinned, "it appears you will be reunited with your dear nephew after all.”

lord lim screamed and screamed.

his screams were cut off by a low, “dracarys."

his dragon's fire was so hot, you stumbled away, heat rolling off it in waves. the screams were loud. the loudest sounds in king's landing since the mad king executed those officers.

they rang and rang, like the crooning of the bard or the twangs of the harp and fiddle. they filled the air, much like the festivities had, but this time you did not have a headache.

your gaze flicked to hongjoong, even as he turned to you, his grin glorious, his silver hair fluttering in the breeze. his dragon left as quickly as it came, and hongjoong laughed as he watched it go.

the smell of burning flesh lingered in the air. the crowd was quiet, so so quiet.

your stomach flipped as hongjoong gestured back to the hall and said, "come now. there is more drink and food to be had."

you were not as disgusted by hongjoong as you thought you'd be.

as you should be.

and that realization would remain with you for the rest of your life.

~.~.~.~.~

"hongjoong?"

your voice drifted between you both in your dim chambers. you'd returned to your chambers shortly after the bard began to sing again. the crowd had already trickled away, and mingi had disappeared. when you stepped through the crowd of nobles, they parted like the sea, the fear in their eyes feeding the fire that always burned at the pit of your stomach. they parted for you as if they could sense the fire in you, and they were afraid they'd burn at the smallest of touches.

your stomach turned at the thought.

you'd hurried to your chambers, then, the kingsguard meant to escort you hurrying to keep up, and readied yourself for bed, scrubbing your skin to rid yourself of the scent of dragonfire and burnt flesh until your skin stung.

you laid in your bed, ceiling too far away, and the linens felt rough against your scrubbed skin.

hongjoong entered the chambers shortly after, and you listened to him quietly ready himself for bed, as if did not wish to wake you. he sat down at his desk and lit a candle. the warm glow of the candle filled the otherwise dark room. his back was to you, the candlelight casting a long shadow over your side of the chambers.

this was often the routine with you two. neither of you could sleep, you noticed, and hongjoong spent many nights bent over his desk, his back turned to you. you'd imagined piercing a knife through his turned back too many times. you wondered if he ever worried you would do such a thing. you spent many sleepless nights watching him work. neither of you ever said a thing. perhaps, it was an unspoken rule between you both. you knew for certain he could tell you were watching him. his back was never relaxed.

that night, you broke the silence with his name.

hongjoong froze, the sound of his pen scratching stilling. then it returned, as if the moment never happened. his voice was low, "i did not do it for you."

you'd blinked at the declaration, surprised. hongjoong continued to work, even as he spoke. his voice held a soft edge, a seething tone you knew was rage. you knew rage well, you've come to learn. "you are a kim through our vows. disrespecting you is treason."

"you did not have to kill him."

"my father would have killed him within a fortnight," hongjoong muttered. then he turned in his seat, his loose sleep shirt slipping as he turned, exposing skin and the sharp dip of his collarbone. he gripped the back of his wooden chair, the candlelight casting dark shadows and an orange glow over his features, hiding his expression. "did you want me to spare him?"

you laid on your side as you contemplated his question. his gaze flickered down your form as he waited for your response. lord kim’s words brought you fury.

so, you shook your head in response.

the corner of his lips tipped upwards at your admission, his fingers gripping the back of his chair. strands of silver hair fell into hongjoong's eyes, and he used his other hand to push it back as he said, voice barely a whisper, "good."

you tucked your hands underneath your pillow, if only to have something to do under his intense, almost knowing gaze. you should have been disgusted by the intimacy in this moment, but you found yourself enraptured by the softness in his voice, your eyes flickering over his turned figure. you found yourself voluntarily speaking to him. the anger you always felt for him was a muted thing. worst of all, you were left wondering why the guilt wasn't much much worse.

it should have been.

yet, your mouth was loose.

"i am terrified of spiders. the ones in dorne were bigger than my hands," you said, your voice barely louder than a whisper, "and wooyoung or yunho always killed them for me. when i was very little, i used to cry when they killed them. i never wanted them to die, even though i feared them."

hongjoong's feathery whisper caressed you like a finger against your cheek, "when did you stop crying when they killed those spiders?"

"i don't know."

a pause.

"will you cry tonight?"

it was such a simple question, but the tone he held, sincere and almost reverent, made your heart skip a beat.

you stared at hongjoong, a lump growing in your throat.

he broke away from your gaze first, his eyes flickering to his lap. when he met your gaze once more, he said, so quietly, so gently, you wondered if this was the same man you'd known since you were four-and-ten. he said, "you can, you know. if you'd like. i will not tease you for it."

it was strange to hear such kindness from kim hongjoong, but this was not the first time. perhaps between all his horrid decisions he was capable of being kind.

for a moment, you wondered if you could be vulnerable in such a way with him. if you could shed tears in front of him.

you shook your head quickly, cheeks hot, "i won't."

the thought of crying in front of him embarrassed you, more than anything.

he'd given you a brisk nod.

the silence grew awkward then, charged with an emotion you could not quite place. so you said, "good night, then."

you turned your back to him, staring at the wall instead.

hongjoong said, "good night, y/n."

he did not blow out his candle, his shadow dancing against the wall.

you did not sleep.

~.~.~.~.~

father is very sick, yunho wrote to you. i am scared worried, y/n.

~.~.~.~.~

you watched the letter wither in the fireplace, the edges of parchment curling before it turned to blackened ash.

you turned away, then, when the door to the library opened and the library's maester stepped through. he was not as old as most maesters, maester robes thrown haphazardly over his shoulders. he was not highly ranked, not like the grand maester who was elected by the conclave to serve the iron throne and the red keep and sat on the small council, but he watched over the grand library. judging from all the different metals adorning the chain around his neck, he was well-versed in many areas of study. the lead and black iron chains were what interested you months ago. they indicated the study of poison and black iron. maesters were not supposed to hold political allegiances, as servants to the realm.

yet, here maester haechan stood, with his sunkissed skin and perpetual wary expression.

you spent too much time in the library. you were bound to walk into something of substance. in fact, the other night you'd walked in on maester haechan in a uncompromising position with one of the king’s servants. in the past, you would have left immediately, but that night you'd cleared your throat. you'd made yourself known. the two men jumped off each other, not once meeting your eyes.

it took months to wear maester haechan down. you flipped through books, maester haechan glancing sideways at you when he thought you were not looking, and mentioned the moment offhandedly. you held your knowledge over him, knowing he would snap and come to you one day. you left a comment here of didn't all maesters take an oath of celibacy? and another there of how would the citadel react if they heard of such a transgression? and finally a pointed what about the grand maester? what would he think? before maester haechan slammed a book down in front of you, the chains around his neck rattling, and he asked, "what do you want from me?"

you'd merely shrugged. you made him stew in his anxiety.

tonight, he finally stood before you, and you asked, "what do you know of essence of nightshade?"

"it is meant to calm one's frayed nerves so they may sleep," maester haechan raised a brow, "but a high dosage can be fatal. and undetectable."

you hummed. you'd thought so, but the confirmation eased you.

"it seems you were already aware of that," his voice was quiet.

"i read about it and wanted confirmation. i have trouble sleeping at night and i've been told it is helpful," you said, with a shrug.

he eyed you skeptically, eyes too knowing, "is it only for you?"

no. you thought of hongjoong. you thought of how easily he'd burned a man alive, as he was taught when he was a boy. you thought of the way you'd felt drawn to the action, of the sheer amount of violence he was willing to display to protect your name. your father would not start a war for you, yet hongjoong would kill a man? the thought made your heart curl, and that was precisely why you needed this. thoughts like that needed to be cut off easily. put into a deep, dreamless, fatal sleep. you did not need to think of hongjoong in such a way. whether that was you who ended up that way, or hongjoong, it did not matter.

you needed this.

"of course, it is," you said.

the maester did not believe you, but he still nodded.

"and you do not wish for me to mention this elsewhere, i assume?"

"i should hope so. unless you want the red keep and the citadel to know you are an oathbreaker, maester haechan."

haechan poorly suppressed his grimace, "your request will be easy enough, your grace."

“and if i have future requests?”

haechan sighed, “i will do as you bid.”

~.~.~.~.~

mingi stood at your shoulder, while you knelt in front of a little girl in ragged scraps of clothing, her sunken eyes piercing as she covered her mouth and brought her lips to your ears.

"choi jongho has held three meetings in lady irene's brothels thus far. several nobles have been in attendance. the lims, the lees, the yuns."

"does lady irene know what for?"

the little girl shook her head.

you could not understand what for. you knew choi jongho was an honorable man, if san were to be believed, though rumor had it the man loved his drink more than he should have. however, even the most honorable ended up in brothels. it was an unspoken norm among nobles. you could not understand why jongho would host other nobles in a brothel. surely, there was more to it.

you'd nodded as you fished out a couple gold coins from your pockets and tucked it into her limp hands, "thank you, little bird."

the little girl only nodded before she stepped into the crowded street and disappeared.

you'd stood, readjusting your hood, and you said, "do you want something to eat?"

mingi shook his head. his eyes were still on the little girl, a distant look.

"then let us head back," you said, "hongjoong should be back soon."

your beloved spends quite a lot of time in my brothels, irene had told you once. you thought about that often, when you'd lay sleepless in your bed, and hongjoong would stumble in to your chambers drunk or smelling of smoke. he whispered stories of his childhood. amusing stories of his mother, mischief yeosang, hongjoong, mingi, jongho, and san had gotten up to, inconsequential things. sometimes, you shared stories too. of climbing mango trees. of hidden courtyards to bask in sunlight. it only ever happened in the dead of night, awash in darkness. when irene told you of her discovery, the ugly beast at the pit of your being reared it’s head once more.

you'd walked in silence, even as mingi gestured for you to lead the way up the winding secret passages you both frequented often.

right before you'd exited the passage mingi called your name.

you'd paused, and he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. his eyes were conflicted as he said, "you should end this."

"end what?" you'd taken your hand off the exit, and you both stood facing each other behind the tapestries. the corridors were narrow enough, but as mingi ascended the final step and towered over you, his armor clinking softly, you realized just how cramped the hidden corridor was.

"end all of this," mingi gestured around him, gestured at you, your clothes, behind him. "i speak to you not as a knight, or as your subordinate, but as your friend. this will all end in ruin, y/n. this is a dangerous game you are playing."

you'd frowned, "i am playing no games."

you were, but mingi did not need to know that. yeonjun, maester haechan, and lady irene could know you were, but for an inexplicable reason, you could not bear for mingi to find out that you were using him in any way. that you left lingering touches on purpose. that you looked up at him until he blushed for another reason. that you were playing a game, and he was one of the pieces you kept close.

mingi blinked at you, his brows furrowing.

you stepped closer to him. he watched your movement like you were opposite him in battle, and he was assessing your next move.

"i miss my family. ever since i came to king's landing, lord kang has opened all my letters. they cannot speak to me candidly in fear of saying something the king or small council will fault me for, mingi," you sighed. "i'm only doing this with yeonjun and the brothel so that i can keep in touch with my family, and keep myself safe. you have to understand that."

"but it is dangerous," mingi muttered, shoulders slumping. "what will become of you if you are found out?"

"i won't be found out," you said, tone adamant. you reached up then, and placed a hand on mingi's cheek. his eyes shot up to meet yours as you said, voice low, "and if i am caught, they will not blame you. i will not allow it."

he frowned. he relaxed into your touch, and your heart clenched as if he had reached into your chest and wrapped his fingers around it. he trusted you so much, despite everything. he had no reason not to. at least a reason that he knew of.

"i worried you'd say as much," he shook his head, "i cannot live with myself if you take all the blame."

you'd laughed, "it appears we've arrived at an impasse then."

a small smile tugged at mingi's lips, "it appears so."

"then we'll have to make sure that neither of us has to take the blame. we have to be extra cautious." you pat his warm cheek once before stepping back.

mingi broke eye contact, looking away as he dragged a hand through his hair. he bit back his growing smile, eyes serious, "more than that."

you agreed, "more than that."

mingi softened as he nodded, and the vice-like grip around your heart tightened once more.

~.~.~.~.~

"my favorite color is yellow," hongjoong said. he sat cross-legged on his chair, his arms folded over the top, his chin resting there. his billowy sleep shirt was thin, the candlelight illuminating the shape of him through the shirt. with his back to his table and his candle, his face was full of shadows, unreadable.

"like the flowers on your mother's tree in the courtyard?" you asked, in response. you lay on your side once more, your knees drawn close to your chest.

hongjoong was silent for a long moment.

you said, "you do not have to talk about her."

his mother was a sore subject. you hadn't heard from her since your wedding, but hongjoong stopped hearing from her shortly after. you often wondered what had become of her. you wondered if your fate would mirror hers one day.

"your mother reminded me of her," hongjoong said. “especially the way you two interacted.”

"do you resent your mother as well, then?" you'd never admitted that aloud.

hongjoong laughed, but it held no amusement. "sometimes, i do. other times, i only pity her. she deals most with my father, after all."

it was quiet once more, before you asked, "would you kill him?"

a pause.

"i don't know," hongjoong sighed, though there was a sharp edge to his voice, "if you were in my place, would you kill your father?"

"yes," you said, without hesitation. you thought of the mad king, with his sharp, long nails and the horrible things he's said to you and the way he looked at you as if you were scum beneath his feet. you grit your teeth, "i would kill him."

"so easily?"

"he'd deserve it."

you could barely see his expression under the shadows, but the way he tilted his head as he looked at you, the glint of a grin on his face, it brought chills down your spine. it was...fascinating.

"oh, how i wish you were in my place then," hongjoong murmured.

the conversation died away after that.

~.~.~.~.~

16,784. that is where our army's numbers currently stand, wooyoung wrote. it is our army, but most importantly it is yours, y/n. if you ever require it.

~.~.~.~.~

"where is he?"

you sat alone in the dining hall. at least you were alone until yeosang and mingi joined you, their armors clinking and their cloaks fluttering behind them. the king and queen always took dinners in their chambers. hongjoong would often join you for dinner, and surprisingly your conversations had become quite light, aside from a few pointed jabs from you both. neither of you could shake the habit, it seemed.

tonight, you had been alone.

until your escorts joined you.

yeosang gave you a lopsided grin as he brought his wine cup in mock salute, "is our company not enough, your grace?"

mingi frowned at yeosang's tone.

the chois were in the red keep - just to visit, they said, though you knew of the brothel visits - and so was park seonghwa. you'd heard the servants discuss sending dinner to the choi's guest chambers, as they wished to rest after a long afternoon of hunting with hongjoong. you heard nothing regarding park seonghwa.

you stared at your own wine cup for a long moment. the servants had left the hall after they'd served the food. finally, you lifted your gaze to mingi and yeosang, and you said, "he's with seonghwa isn't he?"

you meant to sound nonchalant, but your voice was too small, even to your own ears. since when did you care about such things?

yeosang leaned back in his chair, wine cup still in his hand, and he said, "does it matter?"

mingi's frown deepened.

you'd glared at yeosang, "hongjoong's dalliances ruin my reputation. that matters."

"at the end of the day, you are still the heir's spouse, and he returns to your bed," yeosang said, with a shrug. "nothing else matters."

you rolled your eyes, venom dripping from your tone, "you think so?"

"i know so," yeosang snapped back, his eyes narrowing. "if you make a problem of it, then you will become the problem. do you not understand that?"

"what the hell does that mean?"

"do you think the queen disappeared because she wanted to?"

mingi shook his head, "yeosang, stop."

"no," you glared at mingi, "yeosang, continue."

mingi pressed his mouth into a thin line.

yeosang looked genuinely sorry when he glanced mingi's way.

you pressed your hand to his elbow, his armor cold to your touch, "what are you implying, ser yeosang?"

yeosang glanced down at your touch, and though he could not feel your touch, he still shook your hand from his elbow. he downed his drink, his expression stony. his cold features turned colder as the moments slipped by. there was no kang amusement, no mischief, and it brought a chill down your spine.

worst of all, it worried you.

mingi cleared his throat, and you turned to him. his usually expressive brown eyes held a vacancy in them that made the perpetual guilt-ridden grip mingi had over your heart grow in side.

mingi said, "though the kingsguard acts as the queen's guards, y/n, we do not answer to the queen. we do not...owe the king's spouse anything. we answer to no one but the king," mingi turned his gaze to the ceiling briefly, as if he were lamenting the gods. you did not know mingi's beliefs surrounding the gods, nor how devout he may or may not be, but the sight of him take a deep, harrowing breath burrowed beneath your skin. it was a sight meant to haunt you. mingi certainly appeared haunted, his eyes returning to you, his hands curled into fists on the table. "we've heard many things over the years stationed outside her door. the king is...he is our priority. she made a problem out of the king's adultery, and the king dealt with her as he saw fit. now she remains in her chambers for a reason. if you've seen her...heard how she...if you knew...she's..."

mingi stuttered over his words, his jaw clenched, and his eyes glossed with tears. you'd never seen him cry. not once. it was not something you thought he was capable of, logical, kind, and watchful mingi, with walls as high as yours. if he was a terrible person, perhaps you would not feel so much guilt for the way you pushed his boundaries.

you hoped the mad king would not hurt the queen. perhaps it was wishful thinking, to think the man who would have married you off to a dead babe to spite your father had limitations. but you were wrong. the king had no limits, no one to stop them, not even the kingsguard. whatever the king had done to the queen, that left her bedridden, that seemed to leave devastation in mingi and yeosang even now, whatever it was should have terrified you. mingi's pain and your subsequent terror should have been the final reason to end your indiscretions.

to learn to resign yourself to your fate. to become the person you knew choi san and your brothers and your parents would pity. the person the seven kingdoms would one day sing pitiful songs of. the little bird trapped in their cage, left to a tragic fate, left to dissolve into the shadows, ruined, ruined, ruined.

the person you were before you'd wedded hongjoong would have ended everything. they would have stopped fighting for the sake of survival.

however, you could not help but imagine hongjoong ascending the throne one day, and continuing his father's legacy. you could very well face the same fate as the queen. no one would protect you if you did.

but that was not new. you'd known this since the moment you stepped foot on the shores of king's landing at four-and-ten. the part of you that dreamt of being rescued, of knights like the many you'd bestowed favors upon at tourneys, of your parents or your brothers, was merely the dreams of a child. you knew damn well no one in king's landing would protect you.

so why should you stop fighting? why should you stop? because of a little bit of guilt? because of a fate like the queen's?

besides the person you were before you wedded hongjoong was dead and gone when your family left a second time.

you would never step foot in sunspear again. you'd live in king's landing longer than you ever did in dorne. what did you have to lose anymore?

still, you said, "do you think hongjoong is capable of the same?"

mingi shook his head quickly. yeosang did not say anything.

"he is your friend," you frowned, frustration clawing it's way up your throat, under your skin, burrowing itself into ever nook and crevice like a disease, like the anger that always lived inside of you. "if you saw violence taking hold in him, you should have done everything in your power to keep it away. you sit here and warn me of possibilities when stopping such violence is your responsibility. not mine."

not mine, not mine, not mine. it echoed in your head, like the court's whispers. you did not mean to admit that the whispers that blamed you for hongjoong's misgivings bothered you. but you shook with your anger, and yeosang and mingi watched on as if you were a funeral pyre burning before their eyes.

"he is not violent." mingi murmured, voice breathy, "he does not want to be like his father."

you crossed your arms over your chest, looking from mingi to yeosang, "do you really believe that?"

"i want to believe it," yeosang sighed, his voice wistful, "hongjoong isn't a bad person. he's caring, and he remembers the littlest things. he sends medicine when he hears his friends are under the weather. he knows my favorite flower, and he wraps my name-day gifts with them. he sends san and jongho their favorite sweets when their mother's death day comes around. he cleared a space in the garden to commemorate mingi's mother, since lady song refuses to do so in the eyrie. he is...he cares, and he is so gentle, y/n, sweet even, when he is not angry." yeosang dragged a hand through his blond hair, closing his eyes, and perhaps this was the first time you'd seen him so candid with you. no kang amusement, no honeyed words. he speaks as yeosang. only yeosang. "but the mad king lives in his nature, and he knows it. he ruins things because of it, and i'm afraid it will set him on the exact path he despises."

you did not think yeosang thought highly of hongjoong. not truly. neither did you think hongjoong cared much for san, especially after san courted you. but perhaps, they truly were brothers, more than you'd ever accounted for. you'd known it ran deep, and longer than even your time at court. it ran through their fathers, if the chosen members of the small council was anything to go by, but you hadn't truly wanted to believe it. that a family existed in the red keep, found not made, while you were still so alone.

you should have fell in line that night and allowed the gods to determine your fate. the strength of their bonds, of how well they knew hongjoong, seeped into every word, and you should have taken it at face value. you should have stopped.

but you've become quite terrible at doing as you should.

"do you think he would," you hesitated, fingers curled in your lap, "...hurt me?"

mingi closed his eyes, turning to the gods once more.

yeosang twirled his cup in his fingers, the wine sloshing in his cup. he said, "hasn't he already?"

it was a quiet sort of acknowledgement you had not expected from kang yeosang, of all people.

hongjoong hadn't hurt you physically, but he'd taken from you for his own gain. he turned you into the type of person that pushed song mingi's boundaries just to see how far he would go for you, short of becoming a turncloak and betraying his king and vows. hongjoong turned you into this, and it was everything you did not want to be.

once upon a time, you dreamt of being kind. now, you were anything but.

to have that acknowledged brought a certain relief, but it also angered you. he knew of your pain, and he merely watched.

"you're right, ser yeosang," you said, swallowing the lump in your throat as you avoided eye contact with both yeosang and mingi. "it doesn't matter."

~.~.~.~.~

that night, hongjoong returned to your chambers smelling of amber and sweat and smoke. he shrugged his shirt off, his shoulder and chest blotched with reddish marks. even in the candlelight, you could see it. he did not say a word as he drew his bath and disappeared.

you'd turned away, but you could not sleep. it was not the guilt this time, but rather a heaviness in your chest. you ignored that heaviness, focusing instead on the part of you that wished to survive. if hongjoong found someone else to fixate upon, then your misgivings would not be so easily forgiven. the possibility was very real. you'd frowned at the wall as those thoughts ran rampant.

you startled when hongjoong's voice echoed through the chambers, "why don't you ever sleep?"

it was a simple enough question, but it made your heart beat faster. your palms were clammy. you were wracked with guilt. it was not a new feeling, but it continued to eat at your insides. you knew it would eat at you until there was nothing left.

you turned to face him. "why don't you?"

hongjoong's sharp features grew sharper in the shadows. when he rose, he loomed over you, his shadow creeping up over the wall and into the high ceiling. he truly looked the part of a god, the kinds of gods people feared.

you spoke before you took the time to think. you said, "is it because of the guilt?"

this was you you spoke of, but hongjoong's shoulders stiffened, and his looming shadow sunk back into him. vulnerability should not have suited hongjoong, and it truly did not. but you liked vulnerability on him. it bought you control you did not expect.

you clutched the sheets beneath you as you continued, "does it eat at you with every waking breath? do the faces of every person you'd burned or ruined or broke haunt you to this day, hongjoong?"

hongjoong stood so still, clenched fists at his side. your heart lodged in your throat, along with the lump growing there.

it was a strange thing, to understand the emotional turmoil kim hongjoong felt, despite everything. your words sawed its way into your gut the same way it did to him. it was ironic, truly, that the words you used to hurt him hurt you too.

you whispered, "or is it shame?"

"shut up," hongjoong growled.

you should have.

"oh," your laugh was humorless, "it is shame. do you finally feel a sense of shame when you look my way? when you return to our chambers still smelling like another?"

he stalked towards you then, one step, then two, then three, four, five, until he stood above you at the edge of the bed. his voice rang through your chambers, loud and sharp, "i said shut up."

"beg and i'll consider it," you mocked, anger curling at the pit of your stomach at his tone.

he grit his teeth, his dark eyes fixed on you.

you wondered if hongjoong would kill you where you sat. you waited, then, watching his every movement. the twitch of his brow. the curl of his fingers. the deepening of his scowl. that darkening in his eyes. time stopped, and you merely watched as he came back to life.

instead, he sunk to his knees, the bed dipping with the weight of him. he looked like he carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders, and he would sooner let it cripple him then let it slide off his shoulders. he looked the personification of the anger and shame and guilt that always lived inside of you.

he lifted his head to meet your gaze, his shadowed eyes heavy with emotions you could not place. guilt, desire, shame, amusement, contradictory emotions. he mirrored your insides, you knew, and that was a terrifying thought. to admit that you were truly just like him was one thing, but to see it spread out for you like this? to find such a sight fascinating? by the gods, surely you were terrible for this.

"jealousy does not suit you one bit," his voice was rough, low.

"i am not jealous," you bristled. you were not, you should not be, you could not be. you were pushing him so you could survive. so he wouldn’t wander too far. there was nothing else.

"oh, y/n, are we still lying to each other?"

you'd deflated at his brow raise, though your grip beneath you, on the sheets, was still so tight. his eyes fell to your hands, before they returned to your face. he waited patiently.

you could tell him the truth, or you could aim to burrow your words deep under his skin and hope it lived there for eternity.

"yes," you said, "you will never have me as i am. you will never know me, no matter how many sleepless nights we spend sharing stories. you will never know what is the truth and what is a lie."

"i know when you're lying, y/n," hongjoong's voice was not unkind. it held an ancient exhaustion. "whether you like it or not, i know you."

"how could you possibly know me? you don't care for me. you never did," your voice trembled, despite your spite.

hongjoong laughed, then, and it was softer now.

his dark eyes carried the weight of the world as it settled on you, and your breath caught in your throat.

"i know that you always take sugar in your tea." hongjoong said, "i know that you always forget your heavy cloak because you do not wish to acknowledge the winters. your favorite color is green. an emerald green like the jewel. you are terrified of spiders, still. i know that you hate cucumbers. that your favorite flower is dragon's breath, and that is the only reason why you visit the godswood. you do not believe in the gods, new or old.”

your breath remained caught in your throat, and your fingers found purchase around your knees.

hongjoong reached out then, his bare fingers hovering above your cheek. he met your gaze, and you did not think about it when you nodded in permission. his caress was a light thing, barely there, but his fingers trembled. he pressed his palm to the underside of your jaw, cupping your cheek. you let out a breath as he dragged his fingertips along your skin, a breath you did not realize you were holding.

"i know that you adore the three legged mare the stablehands keep hidden during inspections. that you’ve been drinking more so you can sleep," he said, with the smallest of laughs, "and i know that you are afraid of me."

you shook your head, then, and you managed to say, "not always."

"that is not enough," hongjoong murmured, his silver hair falling into his eyes. his dark eyes fell along your face, from your gaze to your lips and back.

you should have pushed him away.

instead, you said, "i am not afraid. not now."

he leaned closer then, his silver hair brushing along your temples, his touch on your cheek warm. "and now?"

your heart knocked against your ribs. you shook your head, "no."

then he leaned even closer, his forehead resting against yours. he was so close, you could count his eyelashes. his silver hair tickled your skin. his touch burned, like fire. like the sun.

your heart stopped, and the silence in the room was deafening. you were afraid any sudden movement, any loud noise, would bring you both back to reality, that it would shatter whatever this was, as tentative and fragile as it felt. your gaze flickered from his dark eyes to his pink lips, and watched his jaw clench.

he breathed, "now?"

you shook your head.

"words, y/n," he murmured, his thumb tracing circles along your jaw, "i need words."

"beg for it, then," you mocked his words, matching his tone. a grin stretched across his face. all teeth and glinting, despite his hooded dark eyes.

one of his hands dragged down your skin, drawing circles and letters and words you would never be privy to along the skin of your neck, and you shuddered under his touch. he said, with an air of the kind of gentle care that left you breathless, "please." his other thumb brushed to the corner of your mouth, pressing into the soft skin as he repeated, gentle and desperate and wanting in a way that made your thoughts run blank, "y/n, please."

you turned your head, pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of his thumb. his eyes tracked your movements. you knew because you held his gaze in yours.

you said, "i am not afraid of you, hongjoong. not anymore."

a lie.

his lips twitched upwards.

he knew when you lied.

he asked, "and if i were to kiss you? would you be afraid then?"

terribly so, you thought, and not because he was the son of the mad king, or because he was volatile. no, what you feared the most was the way you hung onto his movements with bated breath and your heart beat too fast at his touches. you feared you liked this - him - more than you should have. more than you could handle.

you only feared yourself, when you shook your head and said, "no."

when he pressed his lips to yours, you were caught by surprise not by the kiss, but by his gentleness. you kissed him back. he tasted of the remnants of sweet mulberry wine. he smelled of the soap and bath oils you both shared. you pressed up into him, deepening the embrace, and he cradled the back of your head as he maneuvered you into the bedsheets, and your fingers found purchase in his silver-blond hair. he gasped against your lips, and you could feel the grin there. his lips were soft and kind and everything you longed for since you stepped foot in the red keep. of kindness, of softness, of being held as if you were the most precious creature to exist. it made you breathless.

he broke away first, and you gasped for air, even as one of his hands pressed under your jaw. your own hands remained tangled in his hair. he tucked away loose strands of hair as he hovered above you, as he peered down at you. his gaze was intense, as if he was memorizing the sight of you like this, as if he was admiring you. the rough pad of his thumb dragged along your cheek.

he said, "i've wanted to do that since i laid eyes on you."

you'd blinked at his admission, your grip in his hair tightening. his thumb dragged down your cheek, down the length of your neck, down, down, down. he stopped just short of the hem of your shirt.

"keep going," you allowed, untangling one of your hands from his hair just to push it back from his face. just to cup his cheeks in your hands. "just...do not hurt me."

"i won't. i swear it," he promised, and the sincerity of it made something inside you wither. he dipped down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, and it left a fire in your heart. he said, with a grin and dark eyes, "if anything, you will be the death of me."

[restaurantweak]

"Bear Soup of Guerneville"

Whew.

This took longer than I'd like (water is challenging), but I am happy with the result and I learned a lot.

If you'd like to learn about this render, keep on reading:

Composition Check

Like my last couple renders, I'm using classical composition techniques common in Renaissance art...with something new!  Going left-to-right:

Rabatment of the rectangle to create dynamic symmetry and balance to a complex scene.  Characters and objects are restrained to this armature to reinforce the implied lines.

The fibonacci spiral and golden ratio lead your eyes through the scene. I'm showing four major spirals, which start and end at each other to pull you into the composition...but within each "group" of men are smaller permutations of the golden ratio.

NEW: Circular composition.  This technique was very popular in Renaissance art.  The centers of the circles are dictated by the rabatment of the rectangle, then I reinforced the shape with the outline of the pool, negative space of the water (top), and the inner tube (bottom). The circular composition helps focus your attention in a busy scene.

Great example of circular composition informed by the rabatment of the rectangle in "The Queen’s Government" by Peter Paul Rubens (a circular composition superfan). Note how it brings your attention to two opposites.

Although the composition centers around the thick boi, gestures and blocking lead you to a sneaky self portrait of the artist. (Hey, da vinci did it, so its cool right?)

Environment Design

This render is inspired by the popular pool party "Lazy Bear" held in Guerneville. It's a popular gay destination for the San Francisco gays, and I thought it would be fitting for the guys from my past renders.

See? I've squished the depth of the pool by using an exaggerated focal length and perspective.

Lighting

Caustics (or, how light behaves when passing through volumes) is a really tricky thing for my 3D software. Here's (roughly) what lighting the water involved:

Simulate the water

Create proxy meshes for everything and submerge those to create the ripples

The ripples were too fine, so sculpt larger, more exaggerated water

The index of refraction for water is actually too high to see through the water, so we change this to almost zero

Add volumetric randomwalk to disperse inbound light in a pretty way

Arrange pool lights in a way that they cast nice caustics on the subjects

Phew!  And, to be honest, the caustics are not super sharp.  I need to practice more...I'm just happy I got it working at all.

After caustics, I generated steam and comped it in later with the depth pass (right image).

Hair

Finally, some bodyhair.  The hair grooming workflow is not great and my computer is very laggy, so I rendered it separately and comped it in post.  The results are...not bad, but not realistic either.  I need to research this more for better results next time.

Phew!  That was a lot.  If you enjoy it, please check out my patreon, my store, or get some free phone wallpapers.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

I've always very much bought the reasons why Sanchez would be reclusive and unfriendly and I quite like her myself so I write off any of her sins, lol. I wouldn't compare the behavior of the two (not at all the same imo) still from a storytelling perspective I think the Maureen girlies are valid in longing for other anons to give her a fair shake, to see if there might be a reason for her behavior - everybody cites her as spoiled and privileged but I do see less mention of the dark seedy underbelly of that lifestyle that can totally corrupt people. I grew up in a poor farm family (kinda like my baby Lu) and when I started to rub elbows with ppl from those backgrounds I wouldn't have traded my very impoverished childhood for any of that because some of those people were awful - the sins hidden in wealthy and affluent communities such as abuse and dv etc, whew. Knowing that she grows to where she wants to break out of that cycle is what's made me want to give Maureen a chance. Also like the fact that she is unapologetically sexually liberated and open minded. Anyway, all this to say if Marina has one sucker, it's me, I love all these oc's because their backgrounds and motivations are believable and fascinating. As someone who loves Lu and Maureen and Ida and Sanchez AND the MOTA men who brought me here in the first place, I love it when we can discuss these girlies with good vibes and respect to the hardcore fans of either camp

Babe, tumblr kept crashing every time I tried to scroll down to where this ask has laid in darkness, I’m glad to have uncovered you but so sorry for how tardy this response is!

Anyways. I’m always so down for hearing a personal take on how the characters are coming across and your love for Sanchez and ability to understand why she is the way she is, personality irregardless, is so gratifying, thank youuuuuu

And I appreciate and adhere to your points regarding Maureen and her upbringing, which did include privilege, but I’m not sure that’s why she acts the way she acts, most of the time. And if someone had been treated the way she was growing up, if her abuse, grooming, or isolation didn’t happen on a yacht, and instead in a middle-class home, she would be very sympathetic… sympathetic, not always justified. Like you, when I grew up and started to mingle with people I had otherwise considered annoyingly lucky in their privilege, etc, I realized how fortunate I was in fact. There were a lotta things I took for granted, and as a result required of peoples behavior, simply because i didn’t know any different. Not everyone is so fortunate.

Thank you for such a nice ask and if you are my sucker, I am your devotee, I appreciate you so much and I want to kiss your forehead 💋

[thegeminisage]

okay im BACK in the spirit??? temple??? robot??? factory????? and im done with the last limb. i bet theres a boss. i KNOW theres a cutscene. lets fucking do this

bro this was LLLITERALLY in the trailers how did they put such endgame stuff in and we didnt know!!!

it's so funny. in the trailers we thought flux constructs were gonna be helpful and mineru's body was a boss. but they're bosses and she's helpful lol

god her voice sounds SO familiar

LINK CAN RIDE HER???? OH MY GOD

MECH GAME MECH GAME MECH GAME

oh my GODDD THIS IS WHAT ALL THOSE ARMORIES WERE FOR.......like PLOT WISE!!! i thought it was stupid to just have supplies sitting around

ok thats fucking bananas. im bad at fighting with her bc the enemies are too short lmfao

also im not sure im ready to do this boss thing. maybe i wanna go buy some more battery first...get more practice...

YOU CAN ATTACH A FAN AND DO A NARUTO RUN LOL

god i REALLY suck at fighting in the mech. it's weird! maybe bc i have emitters on her hands and not real weapons?!

oh sick you can give her cannons............

at this point like. i really can just let the gang kill the bad guys lol

the story path seems to be taking me directly to this path i was eyeing last night. i'm getting as far as the lightroot and then peacing out. like. i am getting my ASS beat down here

GLOOM HORRIBLINS?? will wonders never cease...

oooh good call on leaving. i can see a gloom hinox from here that i wouldve had to fight next...i have had more than enough of the story right now anyway, it's time to chill to keep it all Balanced

i bet if i went to lookout landing rn and talked to purah she'd be like I WONDER WHO THE FIFTH SAGE IS. let's try it

awww boo she can't travel with me until i get the secret stone.....

what a BUMMERRRRRR

oh wild!! you can explain about mineru to purah. then why tf cant i explain zelda is a dragon >:(

ok, actually, i decided i wanna go turn in that last claw to help the fucking mother statue or w/e. scary...........................

if im lucky i can just glide/dive there from the nearby tower lol

YOOOO wait dinraal's coming out of her hole...maybe i can snag a piece...

got one! i dont know if ive ever ridden dinraal for an extended period of time before...she is taking me so far from where i wanted to go. sigh

so, while i hate shooting the dragons, i love getting the little spike. i bet it feels sooooo good. like being groomed. a spa day for ms dinraal courtesy of one lunatic nonverbal swordsman

harder to admire the scenery from her back bc of the heat filter. NOT impossible. but harder

ugh there was a blood moon...i couldve gotten such cool pics but i was too slow :(

uh oh we're going down. girl i DONT wanna go back to the depths rn!!!

GOT MY SCALE. i was aiming at her fang but whatever. time to go back to the spring!!! i hope i can make it from here.......

MADE IT. whew. im not staying long idw to encounter any Hands

ok, so back to the mother goddess statue...

oh!!! she's okay again.......

wah she's SPARKLING. i'm welling up a little. it was so upsetting to see her toppled

omg she wants to give me a sword but my belongings are full. if it's the fucking goddess sword which 1. i got from amiibo and 2. MAKES NO SENSE...

well. it is.

finally spent my sage's wills on tulin. his arrows come in clutch and also i wanna go in order lol

i have to quit for now!! more later or tomorrow i suppose

[sugar-petals]

HEADCANON — what makes levi so subby

↳ NOTE. back again with a levi ackerman ‘study’ lmao! humorous thought blurbs and analytical bits, plus some classic midnight rambles to indulge us putting things into words. 

↬ word count. 6k - bullet points

WARNINGS. nsfw, violence and abuse mentions, smut bits, d/s, restraints, mentions of unhealthy dynamics, crack & serious rants, insecure levi, sort of fem!oc but not very specified, virgin kink, mommy kink, aftercare stuff

- this dichotomy. levi might always be at the core of his time’s mainstream (...because others want him to) but all of his personal interests are as alternative as can be — do the math.

- yes, he does this to stay alert. but refusing to take off your whole-body-harness unless you’re showering? says something about you. levi enjoys restriction as safety. he can handle the strain of being tied like that without even blinking. he wants it etched into him and cannot help it by all means. that thing probably does some things to you while sleeping. all the other squad members who want to be equally alert — and would even be slightly slower than levi to put it back on — all just don’t wear it to bed unless expeditions are concerned. and even there, he wears it the most religiously. oki doki mister ackerman. noted.

- new levi lore just in: may i remind you that the man instantly figured out how to suspend himself in the air with ropes and hooks? self-bondage 2.0... riggers press f to pay respects. he’d look pretty damn hot upside down from a ceiling in shibari. naked, just the cravat on (gotta stay neat).

- who doesn’t want to put the cat ears on levi. even the subs are curious how it’d look like. what a crime if that didn’t happen at least once in human history. the maid dress he’s basically almost wearing he’s halfway there my friends

- dude got the most insane arch.

- and now the following. he’d say “eh, what does that mean”, in fact you’d have to whip and fuck it into him until he moans it out loud (oh whew), but he sure as hell would get an ego boost from being called a pretty boy. owh yeah. 

- because: a) levi is unsure about his looks all the way as we know. he might not seem like it, but he secretly wants a fuckton of reassurance. especially from the ladies. ”hey... i was popular enough...!”. he might not ask for it directly, but he sure prays it comes. you don’t even know how much he’s concerned with his appearance. despite shaking his head at compliments about his prettiness, he clings to that feedback all night. 

- levi’s inferiority complex in terms of looks has piled up over the years and he never managed to really tame it. figures, he’s all surrounded by people who he perceives as fancy supermodels. who, without even doing anything, automatically make him look dull and neglectable... and we know what he feels about neglect. if anything, it’s levi’s #1 trigger. levi’s grudge against conventionally attractive people is so enormous because he believes that assures them closeness and impressiveness to loved ones. 

- he doesn’t see any insecurity or losses on their part, he’s too preoccupied with his own demons and meticulously correcting his appearance. did you notice? he styles and grooms his body a whole lot for someone who’s seemingly so uncaring, and it’s not just to stay hygienic. he’s also too intimidating when battle-involved — which is 90% of the time — to be able to notice or even get other people’s positive reactions to him in a setting where his cute looks can be made a topic.

- plus the scenario of b) aka someone channeling lana del rey calling him their old man rich daddy which won’t go well. in fact, every syllable is bound to set him off. even if he earns rather decent survey corps loans, he’ll remain frugal all his life. bragging is a no-go, he saw the lowest end of the hierarchy and also the crimes of the highest. and even more importantly, levi reacts pissy at anything that even hints at his age, and his height anyway. he genuinely thinks himself an old wrinkly dwarf while in his worldview, the shining pretty boys are 6′1, lanky, and barely 19. it’s unreachable in levi’s mindset and frustrating because he still wishes he could be like that. news flash levi, you look the youngest. and you’re shining, too. have you seen those two swords twinkle underneath the moon... i’m getting carried away. 

- so, c), anything that fights the exaggerations and misconceptions he finds in his mirror will flatter him. “am i a pretty boy? hange says i’m a grandpa. tch, who the hell fucking knows.” — even just wondering about it will be a massive improvement. 

- levi only lightly suspects he has charm points. he’d probably only name a habit of his when asked what makes him attractive, not a body part. so letting him know that he looks good and pretty is very important for him not to feel neglected. levi’s curse of being left behind can be alleviated surprisingly fast with some pet names. people just don’t dare to call him that, for understandable reasons, he’s generally cranky at it and calls it nonsense.

- but, anyway. it’s not a bad idea to coo at levi. it only comes down how much he likes someone.

- people he loathes will be told off, if he’s into you he’ll be silent about it. there’s no ‘i wanna say i hate it but i’ll tolerate it and say nothing’ in his universe. if levi won’t utter a word, that’s an okay. if it’s not okay, he will dispel it as soon as possible. levi is so damn easy to see through it hurts.

- vice versa, levi will not once call you a petname. only the first name and nothing else, no remarks, not even cuss words, nothing. haven’t met a dom who hasn’t come up with at least one adorable pet name for their partner. 

-  “never thought i’d get bossed around like that. fair enough.” he’s that kind of guy.

- the more he’s pushed into conventions and aggression, the more terrible levi feels about it and secludes himself even further after his duty which he at least can manage well by virtue of his bloodline. but the stress? doesn’t excite him. especially when it’s not a tolerable means to an achievable end. he has no incentives and also doesn’t believe himself to be a role model for other guys — whereas male doms always bond and teach each other over said fact, just like dommes would. the guy who avoids all conversation and would rather pull other guy’s banter apart has quite another hidden opinion, does he. levi actually doesn’t like guys showing their loud and tough side just because. he finds it greatly disturbing and useless.

- levi knows something his environment doesn’t, but he knows them: because he’s a good listener. and don’t tell me a guy as ultra-explicit in tone couldn’t join an NSFW talk, or that he doesn’t want to belong to the group; he values friendship so tremendously. the real reason that levi behaves as an odd one out is that his sexual and romantic tastes are entirely different from the norm and he hates being upfront with it.

- listen. that guy would be the last person to be afraid of a dungeon. it just has to be impeccably scrubbed but he’s the one to do the sweeping and polishing anyway.

- levi the type... to kinkshame and not ironically develop said kink: cuz he already has it. fucking ackerman.

- he’s caught himself daydreaming about a tall dominant stepping on him. yes, levi’s fantasy kicks in sometimes. it tends to get drowned out because of the world he’s living in, and it’s filled with gruelling images all the time, but in some candlelight moments when his drive creeps up to him in his office... he does think a lot about sex. often wishing his mind wouldn’t, but the images just come to him. just like he thinks a dominant figure would emerge in his life and take off his responsibility, at least in the sheets where he’s the most anxious what to do.

- when it comes to situations where inflicting pain on someone is required, levi plunges into emotional chaos and redundancy in its measure as if something possesses him. believe me, to him it’s not that sexy. it’s not something he’d ever do for fun or trust himself to exert on a serious love interest he’s very closely involved with. levi couldn’t inflict any other type of touch after he’s been hugged and kissed and comforted. it’d be a dilemma to his muscle memory if they wanted him to top.

- and mind this. a dominant characterizes themselves by how controlled, enthusiastic, effective with few actions, and deliberate they are with applying pain. a good dom is also realistically strict rather than demanding the impossible, and has a 100% grip on their aggression, otherwise they’re just a mess. the unbendable rule for especially doms to abide by is called SSC, and one S is for sane.

- so if we’re realistic, levi in the majority of his moods would be of no use and even violate that golden code. he’s intense and unstable and his life is nothing but violence in excess which he guiltfully knows too damn well and wishes he wasn’t like that equally so. hence levi shies away from intimacy altogether assuming all people would ask him to top based on his unrelenting battlefield reputation. he has no idea what would happen in his already broken mind if he had sex with a lot of responsibility on him. that scares the living crap out of levi, who’s genetically wired to find a person in command, even more so. he might seem the most passionate and protective to a lover, but levi does not once believe he comes across like that.

- even when his submissive partner was assured that levi was in full control, levi himself would fear all things opposite to that, and be stricter than needed. he couldn’t demand a significant other to take someone as overpowering and rough around the edges as him. he doesn’t know what other methods to use than be too brutal. there, i said it. levi is a proper sub right at home on the receiving end partially because he’d make the most unhealthy dom. that’s the bitter pill. his only strength would be cleanliness (can’t beat him in that regard, though even there he goes overboard).

- when someone wouldn’t make for a sound dom, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re a great sub. one doesn’t always imply the other. but wait... guess who perfectly qualifies. levi can handle all roughness and adrenaline, seeks guidance and emotionally doting figures, has the right balance of questioning authority and obeying, and he is a great little spoon if i may add among many other nice things.

- to give you an image. dominant levi is the shattered crystal, submissive levi the yet unpolished one. 

- he’d be very happy to be taught your philosophy on all this. levi appreciates these types of people. he’s so closely working together with erwin and hange because, i paraphrase, they “look at something far up that i can’t see”.

- and man. at one point, you just gotta grow bored and pestered by people kissing your jiggling little heicho ass against your will. those people annoy the living underground out of him. if i were born levi ackerman, i’d look for doms, too. no wonder he’s irritated all day. people want him to be the one looking far up where they can’t see. he only knows how to do that with the ODM gear, and that lasts three seconds. if levi had a coin for each time someone wanted him to demolish their body in bed, he’d be richer than Wall Sina. which is exactly what he hates the very most, and he’d drown under these coins anyway. our boy can’t swim and is scared to learn it, remember.

- long story very short. even as the strongest person in the world, he still has it in him to look up to someone. too many unintended height puns in here, i gotta apologize to him.

-  but hey, his subby mindset... his looks just add on to that. tortured uke meets raging catboy, he’s almost a full-on submissive tsundere stereotype (yea. dropping all the words in a row here). sure, guys who look that way can dom plus height is no indicator whatsoever. but it would be an absolute waste of cute and pretty and smol if we’re honest. levi looks great submitting. and he’d be secretly flustered by just that even if he’d comment a “tch!” about it.

- i mean. just imagine him talking back at you with that raspy voice. and then groaning and gritting because he’s cashing in on his punishments and gets his glossy hair pulled. well, well. 

- he’s collected every bruise and blemish in the book from fights. the belts of his harness leave countless imprints on this skin during vertical maneuvering, too. hickeys, scratches, and marks are basically like sweet feather brushes to him. no big deal. except he’ll be emotionally attached to them since they are from you. he also likes getting marked because nobody will notice anyway even if he walked around topless. not that he’d flaunt it. he enjoys it in the privacy of his bathroom. oh shit, looking at your hickeys turns levi on. well... oi oi oi.

- calls every person on the planet a brat (even random passers-by lmao) and he’s suddenly the exception, huh? um. no way. especially since doing that makes him sound like a mega brat, the effect increasing with every time he does it.

- pretty tired of doing tough and brutish things at this point. levi just wants to be released from duty and have his tea peacefully instead of going nowhere with his efforts every time. strength burdens him a lot and rather backfires on him instead of being a useful tool he enjoys. of course he’s amazingly goal-oriented, but being domineering is the only valid manner of survival, not a cute option. between his bed posts, levi will choose differently exactly because of that.

- levi does consider his bed a different world. it’s sweet. but also quite a leap for him which is why he avoids it. he wishes a partner would to lead him back there, and take care of him, and make him feel good, so he would sleep in their arms, finally home.

- what strikes me a lot. he’s notorious for dismissing people who hail his ultra high rank and capacity for bloodbaths. levi didn’t fully decide to occupy this spot by free will. remember, levi was bribed into the survey corps and kenny brought him huge knives before even teaching him how to get food and connection due to the circumstances underground. the real levi was not meant to fly that dangerously high later on, lose so many, and be so machine-like at the same time, although it without a doubt made im a legend and irreplaceable. and yet, true levi that the universe meant would sit calmly in his tea shop, clean the counters, and have a reliable spouse. his tea is one of his only remaining fragments of that meant person. levi at his core is not strongly motivated towards power at all, nor an offensive guy, nor addicted to savagery, nor empty-hearted. and i think that’ll show during intimacy. especially since it’s something where he’s starting out on his own terms and wasn’t bribed into. it would be beautiful.

- let me tell you the ultimate doctrine and secret. little counterintuitive but hear me out. it’s better if the dom is a little weaker (albeit capable and firm) and the sub a little stronger (albeit sensitive and serving). not vice versa. because who has to take the whip strokes? shouldn’t be someone who caves or is afraid. spanking or choking or putting your fingers in your sub’s mouth needs more technical accuracy than muscle power. being the one receiving end... different story. not that domination ain’t hard for some practices, doms need to be proper, but you get the gist.

- unless gentle domination is concerned: weak subs defeat their purpose, believe it or not. and anyway: things get pretty dangerous the other way around if humanity’s strongest is involved as the overpowerful master torturer. granted, levi wouldn’t wanna hurt someone he loves. but the power imbalance is way, WAY too drastic to be any good. put him in the most submissive role you can think of and things are in much better equilibrium. strong but sensitive in a serving role is exactly him. he deserves that break to begin with.

- who said levi would find complete joy and relief in dominating? cuz that’s what you are very much supposed to feel if you found your zone. it’s easier to picture levi enjoying a forehead kiss in the remoteness of his office, and an order to get out his cleaning cloth because mommy’s boots got dirty and she wants him kneeling. that’s gonna make him melt so much and he’ll do it almost automatically anyway.

- inch resting... levi rejects worship immediately but doesn’t say anything with praise. do y’all see the difference? it’s the cutest thing, too.

- the animal you adore the most showcases the values and characteristics you seek. some psychologists go as far as asking their clients their favorite animal to know their ideal type. that’s why levi lovers are cat enthusiasts. in the meantime, i don’t have to tell you what horses stand for. cue google, pray tell:

- yeah. sounds exactly what levi wishes and searches for in a nutshell. psychoanalysis case closed.

- look at my horse, my horse is amazing... levi would totally espouse his dom with more pride than you’d usually see him exude. then again, have you seen how devotedly levi treats horses. like majesty indeed. he even gets his hands dirty for them and wants to cuddle, this stuff made me gasp.

- another thing to tie back to the weak/strong idea. submitting doesn’t force levi to compromise his innate strength. on the other hand: if he tops, he’ll have to curb it in all kinds of ways to tone it down to um human level. which he can’t gauge to begin with. he’s essentially a non-transforming titan as we know. imagine if he didn’t suppress himself entirely. in the worst case, his power could scathe his partner as it comes out vicious by default. levi’s physcial prowess is only adequate for absolutely gigantic creatures. 

- so, at best, his partner gets sweet boy levi.

- oh, to make him tea for aftercare. he will ascend.

- and don’t be fooled by soft sub levi only. he got the freakiest side in him. mr. ackerman understands what masochism is all about on levels other people can’t even imagine. talks about it all the time as if he’s trying to prompt something. hmm. 

- this guy’s philosophy in general screams bdsm not gonna lie. 

- let’s remind ourselves how levi’s interests resort to cleaning and roaming the streets if he doesn’t follow some kind of directive by a higher-up. yes, he wants a certain degree of depending on someone, probably even too overtly for various reasons. obviously he’s not a helpless doormat to life (he may feel like it and get treated like it by circumstances, but he’s not) and still wouldn’t do this at the expense of giving himself up — complicated topic. 

- but at the core of that rests a specific desire. besides needing a greater cause, he also needs that intimacy. most people would call levi independent by his battle initiative, but it is just that: combat smarts and good martial reflexes. in his emotional life, he’s still in a state of needing more guidance than most other people. skipped childhood, ackerman powers, you know the deal. he feels more hollow and even more universally deprived than most, which increases his drive to attach himself. in needy ways, almost.

- he sees using pain as a public lesson for someone who’s legitimately evil and a political threat rather than finding sadistic pleasure in treating someone he likes to it in private. he’d ask: “why the fuck do you want me to just slap you out of nowhere?”

- needless to say, he’s courageous enough for subbing. if you have as much as a foot in the door when it comes to bdsm practices, you’ll know subbing won’t be for the faint of heart. and i don’t mean courage in terms of pride or the frequent emotionless dom/whiny sub stereotype from doujins and fan arts that actually just depict vanilla dynamics. someone who believes subbing means being off the hook in terms of bravery either likes the softer sides of femdom or has no idea about d/s. then again, it’s common sense. and again, levi is the opposite of squeamish.

- just how much more flexible does he have to make himself to show you he’ll can be sexily bent to all your perverted likings. every dom can make use of someone this elastic. even monkey d. luffy is in awe of those twisty ackerman aerials.

- let’s talk principles. levi simply does not like to ruin beauty. ask his spotlessly-clean tea cup that didn’t have stains ever since he can think. almost every dom will tell you the opposite. we love inflicting messy stuff just because, corrupting pretty subs and ruining someone’s innocence in the most sexy way. what is making subs cry, cum all over themselves, and bring out their disgusting sloppy side but an act of degrading something gorgeous. when levi ruins something, he just wants to do away with it rather than revelling in the lustful destruction. the only dom wanting to preserve beauty is a caregiver. ask levi what childhood and uncle-associations he has with the word ‘daddy’... he’ll run for the hills.

- he’s the last one to baby and pamper someone in the first place. he can pat someone’s head and say thanks after some years — that’s all he can muster and that’s certainly not satisfactory for a needy little one.

- and as we said. levi is the needy partner at a second glance.

- it’ll take some time until he’s comparing himself less to other guys who vibe submissive, especially very handsome ones. he might even look at eren and wish he had more attributes like him (and strong girls pursuing him like that, why do you think they have such an odd rivalry). that eren makes a good and gorgeous sub but one lousy partner has to be pointed out to him even if he already knows. levi realizes that the lousiness truly radiates from the inside across all the good things, puts all else in shambles and it’s a shame. and so it stands, levi would rather have no clue at subbing than be a cataclysmic boyfriend so there’s that, priorities. and the no clue thing can be worked on very easily. levi is the fastest ever physical learner. so, no problem, luv.

- who doesn’t wanna pull that undercut hair. come on. it’s made for it.

- you’ll never know if his mind plays things much raunchier and wierder than... i mean what to use for comparison... say, hange’s strange titan science methods. levi’s vocabulary is 1000% NSFW after all, it’s not like his thoughts will sound like a sonnet. this guy’s fantasy must be a firework. i wonder about his romantic dreams as well if he has them. 

- this guy’s just out there blatantly posing with his ass and legs, man. how many more invitations does it need.

- yes. dear ole human insecurity... it’s an esteem and safety thing to you. how much more of a confidence boost can you get knowing you can bring the strongest guy ever to knees. and it’s because levi wants to give you that confidence. you might not realize you’re giving it to him in return.

- let’s be entirely real. levi can handle getting a ride. the hardest you can think of. his body is so 1000% vibranium that wolverine is jelly, you think levi’s dick suddenly isn’t? 

- he can easily take the strap, too. this guy has felt so much, anal is peanuts and he enjoys the heat (if everything is perfectly clean, mind you). if there’s one person not made of glass it’s him, he can take a pounding. but you can’t take a pounding by levi. don’t deceive yourself.

- you’ll snap in half before he even gets started and thinks he’s going at tolerable levels. pair your mortal physique with his spiralling OP skills and you get internal bleeding at level one intensity already. “he’ll be gentle” — levi has not once been taught what being gentle with a sexual partner means. and it’d be a lot to do if you were to teach him all that. it wouldn’t emerge naturally this way.

- he has a hard time figuring it out emotionally and physically and would rather entrust those things to you. he’d rather be able to trust you being gentle with him than unfuck his DNA. 

- the pure reality being: he is the consequence of a lab experiment superhuman designed to annihilate 60-meter titans within split seconds. for eldia there’s been no use to genetically tweak an ackerman to have any throttle on their power once it gets going since they were created to deal with almost unsurmountable enemies. 

- generation-long engineering lead him to be the most violent warrior in history and that’s been out of levi’s control. he hates everything about it — lotta people like his immense brutality but he not once said he did, guess why it’s not hot, it’s horrible. he possesses above average empathy which comes from kuchel and his endless list of losses, but has been notorious in not being able to translate it. instead, his body just resorts to more violence by muscle memory traded since ancient times. levi has no clue about moderation. there’s a reason why the harness stays on 24/7, it’s the only way he can feel contained and orderly with less chance of snapping.

- levi feels the most ever comfortable being completely bound and controlled and even secondary to someone. subdued to a command which he has to follow no matter what. rather than being put in a position where he could even just accidentally hurt his significant other, or is asked to, which he’s conflicted about. 

- he’s too overwhelmingly furious and feely to be ordained a sadist who has to operate from logic at all times. he only fully functions as a subordinate since that’s drilled into his brain down to most of his cells, as inhumane as that sounds. well, because those experiments were just like that, against humanity. his biology won’t fade unless titans and his traumas all fade. which becomes especially apparent in bed when inhibitions are low anyway. if he’s honest, he’d avoid sex altogether. only the prospect that a simple order will put him in his place and make him never harm you could convince levi to be intimate.

- so i repeat my cause. you can’t rely on the test tube war machine part of him being unbearable on your body if you’d command him to hurt you sexually. levi would forbid it to you anyway, before you could even speak it out loud as long as he can resist the instruction. he has no interest in being awakened all over again. he wishes the titan power in him could just go to sleep. 

- which is where submission comes in. yes, if he does it, he does it out of guilt and fear in the beginning. but then, for the purpose of guaranteeing that he will love you no matter in what state he’s in.

- if he’s locked and chained and cuffed, levi doesn’t have to anxiously preoccupy himself with figuring out which level of strength is the limit that he can exercise. and trying to read your reactions, which he is frequently clueless about, anyway. meanwhile. if he submits, levi’s own limit is too high for you to even reach in your whole lifetime so you might as well go ahead with whatever you fancy, obviously if he’s fine with it. knowing him, he’s fine either way unless it’s too hygienically... challenging.

- for the sake of the argument: even your hardest punch — if you employed it — can’t unsettle him much less than even remotely destruct him. flip it around? levi’s hardest hit tears you to pieces until you’re just ash and atoms propelled to the other end of the galaxy. and that’s just the punch and not even the kick.

- i think you get whose task it is to lead and ‘regulate’ your sexual interactions. in the exact sense of the word, setting rules. levi likes those.

- he believes himself to be a ticking bomb who’d have to stay away from someone. but levi also has his heart saying he needs somebody, and that his scientifically created abilities are not really him nor his fault so what the hell is he gonna do.

- surrendering himself is the only loving choice he can make, and levi is very loving when given the chance. on top of being the guy who says to pick the option with least possible regrets so the case is more than clear.

- there’s a reason ackermans were designed to follow authority within the walls. you cannot put someone as unleashed and artificially rage-guided as that in the leading position to just sit there and sign laws. and they are too powerful not to have someone give them a clue, too powerful not to have a loophole to channel their ability and mold it. if levi has to make use of this inherent feature to make love happen safely? he will let you use it. in fact, he begs you to, so he can stay normal and not go insane.

- he virtually has no motivation to just go and blow your back out until you’re screaming. he thinks that’s disgusting. most of his steam he’s blown off in the air. levi does not want power over a person, he has always wanted power over his living circumstances. huge difference. he will only punish people who he instinctively knows are evil, and never in sexual ways. 

- the guy’s not dumb. he sees what happens when an ackerman plays the angry protector of someone all whiny. he just has to observe mikasa with eren for two minutes or less. 

- levi fully gets how it shouldn’t be done for a fact. ask erwin if you can, levi also found out what happens when he’s supposed to be giving the decisive order. the problem is: levi hasn’t seen the full truth how it should be done, then. i think you are very capable of showing him. he’s a simple guy, it’s not a giant challenge for you.

- look. it’s easy. just taking him by the waist, and you asking if you can pull him in for a kiss when he’s pinned against a wall blushing... will trigger some stuff inside of him that will sustain your dynamic for as long as the two of you desire it to do so. after all, his power makes him know exactly what to do according to your wishes. 

- did you know that lover skills are also part of that? his power concerns his body movements, after all. oh yum. they adapt to how he’s talked to.

- that’s why levi is so unreachable romantically for almost everybody. he has to know he’s in good hands. nobody discerns more. 

- like seriously. if someone would seize his obedience completely and eradicate all other options for him, he could be pressured and violated at the snap of a finger. someone with as many opponents and obsessive suitors as him has already double the caution at play in his interactions. yes, he’s afraid of rape. the strongest man on earth. he’s seen too many of these people underground; he always envisions his obedience getting exploited for something one-sided in all kinds of scenarios. 

- levi’s bloodline also has generational trauma from persecution and almost complete extermination. just how many criteria you have to fit for him to let you in is quite impressive. subs, and especially if they have that ackerman mechanism like him, are always even choosier than the most anxious doms could ever be. consider levi liking you and letting you take control a knighting and testament to your charater (and how much he needs and loves you, anyway).

- not making levi moan and sweat and squirm like crazy would also just be a waste of being able to witness the hottest, sweetest thing. levi, silent and raw in bed? eh, same old, and not romantic at all. if anything, it’s robotic. the atmosphere would be terrible. vocal levi is just so much more incredible.

- if levi’s docile, he feels sheltered. if he’s hostile, he’s threatened.

- yes, i gotta roast him on this even more. unless his personality suddenly changes from the ground up, levi would make for a strangely erratic dom who couldn’t easily hit any nuance or range. it is possible. but he’d have to try and practice and scold himself out of his hardwired patterns to get there. 

- dominants are collected and kind and systematic, ready to teach and spoil someone endlessly. if a dom isn’t giving and able to fawn a little or a lot over cuteness, even the more serious tops, what’s the point? they’re also the types of people who want to dump softness and comfort on their subs during aftercare and come up with all kinds of ways to achieve that. i’ll be honest. levi would be awkward rather than a natural. i can’t picture him anywhere near ‘awh, you sweet little thing i love love love you cupcake boo’ (okay that’s a lot but anyway) or ‘come here, let me apply this, you did so well, you’re amazing’.

- even in the most hardcore categories of bdsm, every top needs a loud fanboy or fangirl mode for their sweet baby darling up their sleeve. at best, levi goes “---” and grits his teeth mumbling some roundabout consoling. more things are not in his vocabulary, he’s not made for it. he can devote himself, but not hold a speech of love. even in a great mood you get a standard thank you phrase and that’s it. for some spartan subs, maybe a short well done is enough. but excellent doms find lots of accurate words highlighting their sub’s greatness in all apparent regards (just like they could be constructive and careful). 

- so. if you can’t do praise speak, and i’m not saying a whole essay but just a proper string of acknowledgements, quit the game. even less talkative and doting doms gotta be able to do both. smack talk and quality compliments that are decently elaborate. 

- the best affirmation levi’s mind can come up with is ‘don’t die you shitty fool’ or something in that vein. of course the good intention is clear. and he can’t put it in any other way. and yet. doms just can’t relate. we almost excessively pride ourselves in becoming our sub’s greatest supporter and being able to express it at length. if ye don’t tell your subby sweetheart that they’re a beautiful gift and they’re so adorable frequently, what are you even doing? just going feral on them doesn’t count, it’s incomplete. brutalizing and then frowningly patching your sub together without a word ain’t it.

-  before i rip him apart completely, let’s flip that scenario and put levi on the receiving end of aftercare. oh well, let me tell you how nice that would be. for you and him alike. levi gets his fill of affection in an intimate state where he can grow to accept it, and you can just take care of him and do the soothing things he really needs. also, what better thing is there for him to be cleaned by you personally. hallelujah.

- and, talk about cleaning. if levi doesn’t radiate malewife energy...

- he’s been surrounded by gals who would make the sexiest dommes ever since years. nothing new to him. hange has an excited sadistic streak, annie can kick any guy’s ass, ymir is the most butch top i’ve ever seen, historia is out there beating him up for fun (...and he was just smiling), and let’s not forget mikasa who’s all about protecting her beloved. levi would be more surprised by someone who vibes the opposite. his entire social enviroment is like... hello, we are the dommes.

- kenny would get confused af if levi didn’t come along with a tough lady at the gates of heaven, so.

- talk about being drunk on something, levi is such a boobs guy, i mean just smother him for tea time and he’s a happy man.

- i mean. someone who doesn’t give a shit and holds his blades in reverse is open to experimenting.

- levi can feed a dom’s virgin kink to literally no end. jesus christ. i know it’s been making the rounds.

- since he’s older in particular, that makes corrupting him and making him messy in a playful way even more orgasmic. just-turned-18-year-old virgin sub giving a dom their first time? come on. boring and creepy. and even if the dom is the same age, how skillful and sophisticated and perfected in their practice can they even be to make it amazing at its fullest? meanwhile: levi, he’s seen it all. he’s experienced in life, he’s been so strong. him, gifting his vulnerability and the only remaining unexperienced thing about him to you? the utmost honor.

- that levi’s received hype at the ends of the earth in the most niche communities and all the tops like him. we’ve come full circle, do the math here as well.

- not a logical reason but... how to say it.... he’s so endearing.

- and that’s all folks now you heard about why levi is so subby

more levi writings: mlist

final note. i want to go on debating about horses 😂

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional. 

[triplexdoublex]

Pornstar

Pairings: Colson x Reader

Warnings/Tags: rough sex, anal sex, face fucking, gagging, spit, spitting in mouth, slight bondange, golden showers, pissing in mouth, slapping across face, being filmed.

A/N: Shout out to Shawnie ( @heytheregreeneyes) for always letting me use her as my OC and being my best friend. Also Colson isn’t MGK in this, just a pornstar so his personality isn’t as cocky as he usually is. I know I’ve mentioned it before but the sex in this is loosely based off my fave porn star Small Hands AKA Aaron Thompson. Hope this was worth the wait. Lemme know what you think! “Open it, open it!” Your roommate and best friend Shawnie stood before you with a gift bag in hand, shaking it excitedly.

“My birthday’s not even until this weekend,” You laughed taking the bag from her. “You sure you don’t want me to wait? It’s only a few more days.”

“ No please, I’ve kept this a secret for long enough, it’s killing me! Just open it!” She exclaimed. “Plus your gonna need time to prepare.”

“Prepare?” 

“C’mom, just open it, open it, open it!!!” She was far too excited. You wondered what it could be that she was so eager to give you. But what you pulled out of the bag just left you with even more questions. 

“Thanks???” You said confused, holding up a sexy red lace bra and matching g- string that tied at hips. 

“That’s only part of it,” she assured you. “What’s your biggest wish?” She tried to clue you in.

“Ummm paying off all my student debt?” You answered still puzzled. “Did you get me a job as a stripper?” You laughed.

“Okay, maybe ‘wish’ was the wrong word to use … hmmm—oh biggest fantasy!” She corrected herself. 

“Oh to fuck my favorite porn star Huge Hands, AKA Colson Baker. You know that — wait … no, no way!”  You exclaimed as your friend started frantically nodding her head yes. “Shut up!!! What? You’re kidding. Like how?”

“Look in the bag . There’s more!” 

You reached into the bag and pulled out a pass of some kind and read it aloud. “Huge Hands/Colson Baker : Exclusive Access, Porn Star for a Day pass” 

“They were super limited, I have no clue how I managed to snag one, but I’m so happy I did! The look on your face right now is priceless!” Shawnie laughed. “It’s probably because you’re the only one I know who’s  crazy enough to actually go through with this.”

“I-I don’t even know what to say. I have no words… thank you.” You expressed your gratitude, still in shock. “I’m really about to have the best sex of my life this weekend! On my birthday yet! Have you seen his fucking cock, it’s huuuge!”

“Yes, many times,” Shawnie chuckled , entertained by how pumped you are. “Or did you forget about all the links of his umm ‘work’ you’ve sent me?” Shawnie wasn’t big on porn herself but she was always willing to take an interest in your latest obsessions, no matter what they were. That’s what you loved most about her. “Turn it over, it tells you more about what’s included on the back.”

You did as she suggested, turning the pass over to read more. “Half hour zoom call day before to privately discuss details, and needs/wants of scene; hair and make up; up to one hour of shooting time; and keepsake autographed DVD recording,” you listed off. “You know I’m gonna watch that everyday for the rest of my life, right?” 

“I’m assuming you’re gonna make me watch it at least once too, knowing you,” Shawnie laughed. 

“Yeah probably,” you laughed as well. “ I got no shame!”

*************

You’re stomach was in knots as you waited for the zoom call to begin; you’d never felt so excited and  nervous at the same time. Shawnie was there with you sitting just out of frame, when the ‘bloop’ of the call came through your computer's speakers. 

“Hi, Y/N?” Colson questioned.

“Yeah, hi. That’s me!” You did a timid little wave.

“Ok good, just wanted to make sure I got the right person before we get started here. Imagine that … Awkward!,” he laughed, and you instantly began to relax; you could tell he was going to be easy to talk to. “Well, obviously you know what I do , but I’d love to hear a little about you. Says here on your forms you’re a college student?”

“Wait, what forms?” You asked.

“The ones you filled out online with your info and kinks and things you wanted to include in our video when you purchased the Pornstar for a day package,” he answers slightly confused. 

“Ohhh, my friend bought me this for my birthday, she must have filled them out.” You responded. “She’s right here. Say hi Shawnie!”

“Hi!” She giggled leaning into frame. 

“Hello. Wow this must be some “friendship” he joked making air quotes. “Because this is a very detailed list. You gotta hear this.” He smirks. “Written in the section about what you hope to include in our scene says— and  I quote: I want Huge Hands/ Colson to absolutely destroy me. I want him to fuck my throat, my pussy and my ass. I want him to slap me around, and spit and piss in my mouth, and anything else he wants to do to me, I’m all for it.”  He choked out a laugh pulling dramatically at the collar of his shirt “Whew, I’m the pornstar here and that’s even got me blushing!”

“Oh my God, Shawnie!” You covered your beet red face.

“What!?, did I lie?” She laughed.

“I mean no, but still. Damn, to hear it out loud like that.” Your eyes bulged. 

“So it’s true then?” Colson asked slyly.

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” you hid your smile behind your hand, shaking your head in embarrassed disbelief.

“Aye,  no need to be embarrassed, we’re gonna have fun tomorrow, I can tell,” he smiled. “I’m especially excited that your interested in Anal. It’s kinda my favorite. I’m assuming you’ve done it before?” 

“Yeah,” you answered simply.

“Do you enjoy it?” He asked.

“Tell him what your ex said!”  Shawnie blurted out. 

“Oh, boy. I gotta hear this,” he chuckled. “What’d the ex say?”

You inhaled deeply before speaking, “I do enjoy it, probably more than regular sex, if I’m being honest,” you admitted. There was no use trying to be coy now. “Uhhh he actually said I could be a pornstar since I can take a hard anal pounding so well.” 

“Nice!” He exclaimed. “Girl, after my own heart.”

“Jesus Christ, this conversation has me sweating already,” you chuckled standing up to pull your cardigan off. 

“Is that a little tattoo I saw there, peaking out of the top of your jeans?” He asked. 

“Yeah, you wanna see?” You unzipped your jeans without waiting for a response and lowered the top of your underwear just enough to show him. 

“ The Playboy bunny, huh? How fitting,” he teased.

“What can I say, it was my first tattoo,” you giggled “Seemed like that’s what everyone was getting at the time.”

“What else you got going on down there?” He lifted his head as if trying to see more. “Is that a landing strip?” He asked referring to the thin dark stripe of short curls just  barely visible above the band of your lowered underwear. “Can I see?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you lowered them further exposing yourself, your inhibition long gone at that point. “This is just how I normally like to groom. I can shave it completely if you prefer?” 

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he smiled. “Well, I think I have a pretty good idea now of what you like and what we’ll be getting ourselves into tomorrow. Do you have any questions or anything else you want me to know, before we end the call?” 

“I don’t think so,” you said. “Shawnie pretty much laid it all out on those forms,” you laughed. 

“That she did!” He produced a chuckle as well. “I meant to ask earlier, but, since she knows so much about your kinks and what not, have you two ever —“

“ No, just best friends, I tend to overshare, I guess.” 

“Yeah it amazes me sometimes, the things women  share with their friends, but yet guys are always the ones who are known to kiss and tell and brag about their conquests. Females can be just as bad, y’all just keep it on the low a little better,” he stated. “Well, I look forward to working with you tomorrow. Take care, and I’ll see you soon.”

“Can’t wait!” You responded. “Bye.”

“Bye,”

You felt oddly comforted and at ease after the call, no longer a ball of nerves or embarrassment. He made you feel like there was no shame in enjoying the things you did. He was very professional despite the nature of the call; it didn’t feel sleezy or overly salacious; just two consenting adults having a mature conversation about their sexual desires. 

*************************

When you walked out of hair and make-up and onto set, you saw Colson waiting for you on a red leather couch. He was clad in only black dress pants; shirtless — his tattoos on full display. He smiled seductively when he saw you, beckoning you over with a pat to his thighs. You undid your silk robe they had given you and let it slip from your shoulders to the floor, revealing the red lacy set Shawnie had bought you, as you made your way over to him. You suddenly became very aware of all the cameras and other people in the room, as you sat on his lap. Somehow it has slipped your mind that they were all a part of what went into this.

“You get used to it,” he said softly , remembering the way he felt his first time in front of the cameras. “Just pretend they’re not even there— only me and you, okay?” He said brushing a finger along your thigh. “Unless, Shawnie forgot to mention you’re an exhibitionist too, then by all means enjoy them watching us fuck,” he joked, making you laugh. “Don’t forget, if you need me to stop at anytime for any reason, just give me three quick taps,” he demonstrated, tapping your thigh. “Don’t worry about the filming, they can always edit and piece things back together if needed. This is all for you and I want you to enjoy yourself. Oh and happy birthday by the way! It’s today right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

“Ok, so we’ll just start the scene with some kissing and light touches, and when I feel you’re ready I’ll signal the camera man, he’ll call action, and then we'll be recording.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded your head. He had made you feel so comfortable and relaxed the last bit of nervousness you chalked up to just being slightly star struck; You never thought in a million years you’d get this opportunity.

“Ready?,” he pressed his forehead to yours, staring directly into your eyes, the corners of his mouth turned up into the most alluring devilish grin. 

“Ready,” you echoed back, biting your lip trying to suppress a needy whine. God you were always such a sucker for his killer eye contact in his films, and now you were the one his eyes were soul fucking. You’re heart pounded with excited anticipation as Colson’s face drew nearer to your own. He lightly held your chin as he pressed his lips to yours, parting them to introduce his tongue. It was a welcome greeting, cut short by the breathy “oh fuck ” that involuntarily slipped from your lips.

“”You good?” He laughed softly, a small puff of air the only thing separating your mouths; your foreheads still touching. 

“More...than good,” you spoke in a short choppy sentence trying to compose yourself. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” he smirked against your lips, continuing to kiss you. 

You melted into his kisses— slow and gentle at first,  increasing in intensity as he carried on. When he nipped at your bottom lip with a low groan, you lost all innocence, shifting positions to straddle his lap. You gripped the back of his head, as he kissed you and rolled your hips against him, demanding more. And that’s when he knew … that you were ready.  He quickly signaled to the cameraman with a thumbs up, and “Action” was called. 

His hand slipped down from your chin, settling on the highest part of your neck just under your jaw, his fingers squeezing at your pulse points on either side. Roughly he turned your head to the side with a push of his thumb and his mouth began mauling your neck with an appetite for lust, leaving blooming raspberry patches along the descending path of flesh that lead to your breasts. With one hand he expertly undid the front clasp of your red lace bra and took in the sight of you.

 “Perfect,” he whispered into your flesh with a growl, taking one breast  in each hand as he licked between them, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You slid the silky straps of your lingerie over your shoulders, letting it fall, as he took turns going back and forth between each breast treating each of your nipples to light suction and a pleasurable nibble. You let out a moan at his actions and again rolled your hips in his lap, pressing yourself against the hardening bulge inside his dress pants. “Needy are we?” He teased swiftly  spinning you around so your back was to his chest. He dug his chin into your shoulder peering over it as he snatched up the crotch of your panties roughly, tugging the material up between your lips . You canted your hips up chasing after the friction of the coarse fabric against your clit. “You like that, huh?” He pulled them harsher. 

“Mmmm, yes” you squeaked out, nodding your head.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” he growled nipping at your neck. “Look at this pretty pussy,” he shoved the material to the side exposing you, letting his fingers explore your folds as he pleased. “You want my cock right in here huh?” His voice was so gravelly and low as he slipped a finger inside you, only to quickly pull it back out, teasing you. “Taste yourself,” he brought the finger to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it, as he slid it further into your mouth, his long fingers slipping down the back of your throat. “Oh, god, yes!” He exclaimed impressed by how you didn’t even gag. “Tell ya what—“ he paused to add a second finger to your mouth, continuing to talk as you sucked “If you can suck my dick as good as that—“   he then pulled them back out of your mouth. “I might just have to fuck you right in here too,” he shoved his spit slicked fingers into your ass.

“Yes, fuck, please!” You whined, wiggling your hips, wanting his fingers deeper.  

“You like that? Huh. You dirty little anal whore!” He grabbed your neck with his free hand, keeping you pinned back against him, the fingers of his other hand still moving inside you.

“Yes, yes! I am,” you strained to speak. “Please, please fuck my ass!” You whined impatiently with pleasure. You never heard yourself sound so needy and desperate in your life.

“You sound you pretty when you beg, but you're gonna have to earn it first,” he demanded pulling out his fingers,  leaving you feeling empty. Quickly, you dropped to your knees in front of the couch as Colson got up standing before you. You waited impatiently while Colson unbuckled his belt above you. Once undone he yanked the belt free from the loops with a satisfying ‘whoosh’ that made you pulse between your thighs. You desperately clawed his pants and boxers  down his legs like a feral cat in heat as Colson brought the tip to your mouth, still holding onto his belt in the other. “Open!,” he demanded. “Goooood,” he growled in praise as you did what you were told. You reached up to grab it but ,“no hands!” he smacked them away, and then secured them behind your back with his belt. “Let’s try this again, open!” He spoke harshly. You obliged, opening wide. “Tongue” he barked.  You let it hang from your mouth with anticipation; eager breaths rolling down it like a panting dog eyeing a steak. He teased you, slapping his cock against your tongue before shoving it fully into your mouth. Your eyes prickled with tears as you fought your gag reflex, taking him down your throat. He held your head in place with one hand , the tip of your nose pressed flush against the coarse hair of his pelvis, as he hunched his body forward over yours untying the sides of your G-string. It slipped from your body leaving you completely nude. Colson smacked your ass, then gripped it harshly, making it jiggle for him before finally standing straight up and pulling his hips back to let you come up for air. 

“Huuuuuuhhhh,” you inhaled sharply gasping for breath, letting oxygen penetrate deep into your lungs before Colson stuffed your mouth again. Mascara ran down your hollowed out cheeks as you sucked. You started pulling back out of instinct when you began to gag but Colson held you in place. 

“No, keep it in your mouth,” he instructed condescendingly, looking down at you. “Just a little longer” he promised. You tried your best, Colson letting out a throaty moan every time your raw, used throat constricted around him as he fucked into it. “Mmmgghh,” he groaned, pulling out of your mouth “Goooood girl,” he praised with a smirk, before bending down to give you a sloppy kiss, swapping mouthfuls of saliva. Just as he pulled away he let a long string of collected spit slip from his pursed lips and into your open mouth, where you eagerly accepted it, moaning as you swallowed it down. 

 You let out a breathy “awhhh” as you opened your mouth again, wiggling your tongue enticingly. 

“Such a dirty, fucking whore,” he bent down again and spat directly in your face. He smeared it all over your face with his hand before grabbing you by the neck, pulling you to your feet. “Turn around,” he ordered. You did as he said and Colson undid his belt from around your wrists. Before you even had a chance to soothe your sore wrists with a rub, Colson spun you around and pushed you down onto your back on the couch, your ass teetering on the edge of the red leather cushion. “Spread yourself for me,” he instructed, as he pumped himself. Again you did as you were told; you pulled your legs up, wrapping an arm around each thigh, holding them back as you parted your opening with your fingers.  “God, you’re so fucking wet.” He teased the head of his cock through the glistening mess on display for him. 

“Fuck me,” you said in an inpatient huff, staring into his eyes. 

“Awhhh, yessss,” he groaned out, slack jawed as he sank into you

“Ohhh, shit,” you screamed out , face twisted in pleasure, your eyes slipping shut, at the feeling of him burying himself deep in your cunt.

“Open your eyes. Look at me!” He spoke harshly, cupping your face in his hands as he thrust. You opened your eyes, trying to focus on his, but your vision was  spotted by the intensity of it all. “Feel good?” He pressed his forehead to yours just as he’d done earlier , starring directly into the windows to your soul as he fucked you. You nodded the best you could, but that wasn’t good enough for him. “Words, I want words. Say yes!”

“Yes.. yes,” you responded breathily, biting at your lip.

“Yeah, Mmmghhh, that’s it. Fuck, I like it when you use your words”  he moaned , shifting himself to be more upright. He then spit on the tips of his fingers and brought them to your clit and began rubbing it furiously, his cock still destroying you.

“OH Fuck!” You cried out, wiggling and bucking your hips. 

“You gonna fucking stay still? He roughly grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks. You nodded your head, trying your best to calm your body’s erratic, pleasure driven movements as he thrust. “Words!” He spat, his hand letting go of your face only to connect it to your cheek again with a quick, yet harsh slap.

“Shit! ...Yes!” You corrected yourself once again, Your body was  loving how aggressive he was getting the longer he fucked you and he could tell;  spitting at and striking your face again.

“Turn over!”  He ordered, abruptly pulling out. “Hands on the back of the couch.” He roughly assisted you in turning around , and you placed your hands where instructed. You arched your back and pushed your ass out waiting for him to re enter you from the new position. “This is where you really want it, huh?” He teased his cock over your asshole. 

“Yes!,” you remembered to use your words this time.

“You’re a dirty little fucking anal whore, aren’t you? He asked, he question sounding a lot more like a statement. “Let me hear you said it.” He applied pressure to your hole with the tip, as he yanked back a fist full of your hair.

“I’m a dirty little fucking anal whore!,” you repeated desperately pushing back against him.

“Mmmghh!, That you are!” He confirmed with a groan, snapping hips hips forward, quickly entering you. 

“Uhhhhh, Oh my God!” You exclaimed at the feeling. You never fully understood why you enjoyed anal as much as you did, perhaps it was the pleasurable fullness, the taboo aspect, the fact that you were one of the few woman who were into it, or the way so many men were obsessed with it , and the look on their face when they found out you were more than willing to take it up the ass, but you absolutely loved it, and this time was no different. Every jack hammered thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge, especially when Colson reached around to between your legs adding the friction of his fingers to your clit. The sensation of your ass being stuffed combined with his  touch was the perfect recipe for orgasm and you felt it building every time his cock slid in and out. 

“Yeah, cum for me,” he could feel you tightening around him. His words perfectly in sync with the  jolt of pleasure boiling over in your abdomen and ripping through you with vast intensity. A series of explitives and sounds you’ve never heard yourself make, flew from you lips as your body went boneless under Colson. He quickly pulled out, turned you back over and came across your face with a few pumps of his hand. He collapsed to the side of you briefly, before tugging you off the couch and onto your knees. “I’m not done with you just yet,” he spoke out of breath taking his softening dick in his hand. Your eyes lit up, you knew what he was referring too— the only thing on your list of wants he hadn’t included yet. “Say ahhh!”

“Ahhh,” you echoed the request, letting his golden stream fill your mouth, splash off your tongue and dribble down your chin and body. You giggled, piss spilling from your smile as you looked up at him, all your fantasies now fulfilled. 

“Annnd cut!” Called the director. A few stage hands scrambled to bring you both a towel and small refreshments. “Almost done, just gonna get you guys a little cleaned up, rehydrated, let you catch your breath a bit, and then film the little quick, post scene interview. 

“Ok,” you both answered.

Colson tossed his towel over his shoulders and reached out his hand to you “You, good?” He asked with a faint laugh , watching your hand shake as you drank your water.

“Yeah,” you answered letting him pull you up onto the couch. 

“You were amazing,” he said, rubbing your back. He knew the come down from the adrenal rush of scenes could be taxing, especially from rough ones . “You —“

“Ready,” the director interrupted, cutting him short, and immediately pressing record. “So how was it?” the director focused the camera on you first. 

“Oh my god.. mind blowing,” you answered , still out of breath, adjusting your towel. 

“And you?” The director turned the camera to Colson.

“ Absolutely amazing. She was a natural. I’d love to work with her again.”

[gardenerian]

I have a question: do you think Fiona saying that sometimes people with bipolar disorder needed to be taken care of is ableist? Or just in general if someone thinks that?

whew. it's been a while since we did loaded question hour, hasn't it? let's think about this:

(usual disclaimer that i do not speak for everyone with bipolar disorder, and i am only coming at this with my own thoughts and experiences in mind.)

if i'm remembering correctly, there are a couple of moments in 5x11 where she says something like this. when the MP asks if ian is unable to care for himself, fiona answers, "sometimes, yes." later she tells sean that she wonders if she'll end up taking care of ian.

the way i see it is this: fiona's early perception of bipolar disorder and what it means is heavily influenced by monica. "she put us through hell." she thinks someone will need to care for ian, and given past experience, it will likely have to be her.

and guess what? she's right. someone does have to care for ian. in these murky s4/s5 days, ian needs care. he needs supervision, he needs someone to help him get on track. whether that person has to be her... i think we know that it would never solely fall on her. not with ian. and it's unreasonable to expect one person to step up and be that kind of caretaker. it should never fall to one person. but fiona has often had take on that role. so she's preparing to take it now. it is hard for them to see a way beyond these extremes, especially since they never got beyond them with monica.

she fears, given the way things are going, that the experience will be like they all had with monica. that it could be a lifetime of pain. but she still encourages ian (and others) to be active in his care. fiona is gearing up to care for ian in a way she never thought she'd have to, but she's still hoping to mitigate the worst of it and assist him in seeking his own help.

but the fact of the matter is that sometimes we are unable to care for ourselves. especially when unmedicated, episodes can be so severe that basic self-care (grooming, eating, hydrating) feels impossible. these things are often the first to go when it gets bad. and beyond that, sometimes we cannot see reality for what it is. sometimes we are at risk. and sometimes being alone is not safe.

but this goes for just about any condition. sometimes people experience flare ups of mental or physical illnesses that take them out of commission for a while. sometimes people need extra support, sometimes people need full-on, round the clock care. and as much as ian does not like to admit this (and nor do i), it is a uncomfortable truth we must live with. it's not a given that it will happen, but it is something to plan for.

i do not think it is ableist to say this. we are human, we need help.

does fiona need to take the time to learn this disorder as it relates to ian? yes. does she need work to let go of some of the resentment she holds towards monica in order to see him clearly? yes. does she need to both care for him and trust him to learn to care for himself? yes and yes.

but hey! she does this. they all do this. that's one of the things i find so special about this storyline. by the time ian has stabilized (into s6, i guess), they seem to trust the handle he has on himself. i would always like to see more of this journey, but we do see her learn to relax into this new reality. i won't touch s8 in this regard, but the point stands.

where we would get into trouble is if we were to remove agency from mentally ill (or physically ill or chronically ill) people or dehumanize/infantilize them in some way. there are plenty of gripes to be had with this arc, but i don't think this is one of them.

but that's just me. what do you think?

side note, sometimes my feathers do get ruffled when she says "when they're manic, they can be destructive" because it's TRUE but the way it SOUNDS is terrible to hear 😭 the usage of they hurts me and maybe i am just sensitive to that, but ah! it makes sense and i do not consider it bad writing, it just stings!

[badgirlcovenrep]

My thoughts on Motherland Fort Salem: Ep. 6: "My 3 Dads"

- whew... this is gonna be a long one, this episode had SO MUCH going on

- I thought cape lady was Scylla for a second ngl

- this is like... way too much spree. Like- WAY too much

- the "bleed for freedom" speech is pretty poignant tho. Like, they're not wrong and that's what makes the Spree so scary to me

- I can see why witches would give their lives to the Spree with how the world is going for them and that's why they're so powerful

- tally is seeing through Alder's lies! My cinnamon roll will bring waste upon the U.S military herself and I'm SO here for it!

- so they hate Alder in the Cession? That brought me so any questions

- If the Cession is mostly native American is there some historical beef between alder and the first nations?

- when alder gave them the cession in exchange for biddyship like eliot said was it done as peacefully as alder implied? We know she could definitely cover up smth like this

- did she do something shady to get the biddies?

- They need Charvel's blood? How long has she been dead at this point? Does she even still have blood? I'm so confused

- love abigail and adil being rebelious together tho. They're so hot. I'm a sucker for bi couples

- i also think it's nice to see adil be so cool and outspoken, he's definitely different nowadays

- abigail's dads are so cute but i do not trust them

- can they legit leave abigail alone? Like they won't stop for A SECOND to acknowledge she's still traumatized from being hunted and almost killed but they want her to honor her family by being a glorified incubator for the army? Fuck THAT

- this handfasting thing makes me so MAD, literally EWWW

- Shane killed tiffany's parents... honestly i'm glad Scylla killed that psycho

- he deserved to die and Scylla did Brianna a favor idc what anacostia says

- he was definitely gonna groom his daughter into the Camarilla she's better off away from this mess

- hopefully bonnie and her get to have a normal life now

- I also fully support Tiffany going with the Dodgers

- they're truly the only pacifists out of this whole show

- and like Scylla said, if she goes there, she has a chance to actually choose for herself what she wants to do

- if she went with the military she'd be like, instantly conscripted, and she deserves to choose if she wants that

- #justicefortiffany

- so Raelle is only going to find out Willa is alive when she sees the bitch, huh? Okay. Okay, yeah. I'm fine...

- not really I'm dying inside this meeting is gonna be SO UGLY

- like if she found out first she'd have sometime to think about it, now she's just going to have to deal with it on the spot and that is NOT going to help

- the conflicting feelings are going to be delicious though, she's going to feel happy and relieved that her mom is alive but also probably be so hurt and angry that she left them to mourn her all this time I'm so nervous for all this

- beanie!Tally has my whole entire heart

- I don't like Anacostia being back with Alder but I guess she wasn't ready for all this shit

- scylla is way more of a little shit than she predicted

- I already love Gwen. I was hoping we'd get to meet Willa's unit at some point, wonder what happened to the third one

- cool to see her use the same off-canon work as Raelle tho, still curious to know where that came from

- love adil literally not caring about Abigail's family's dumb traditions

- also I hate her dads now

- like calling witches MARES??? What is wrong with these people?? Do they not see how wrong this is? 🤢🤢

- they literally KNOW they're treating Abigail like a freaking animal to be bred

- this is so disgusting I stg and so very reminiscent of how women were treated back in the day, like baby incubators

- did- did this show jus imply Abigail was made in an orgy...

- kinda liked seeing willa be so nice to tiffany, you can definitely see she has a lot of maternal traits abt her

- it MUST eat Scylla alive a bit that Tiffany lost her parents just like she lost hers

- the Camarilla keeping kids in animal cages and feeding them dog food is literally so vile. Eliot didn't have to go THERE, but he did and it makes this all so much scarier

- it's like willa said tho, they're doing this bc they're literally so scared of witches they won't even go for grown up ones

- we saw how they ran like little bitches when the lights went off at the party

- they're all just cowards

- on another note. "Bedtime for tally" lol

- YESSS put it all together, TALLY!! My baby is gonna start a rebellion I can feel it!

- was not expecting Nicte to still be alive tho

- in my head the flashbacks were WAY older

- Petra is being such a bitch to Abigail I stg. She said she'd change in episode 1 and she's only getting worse

- was not expecting granny Minerva to side with Abigail on this but literally GO OFF, LITERAL QUEEN OF PERFECT MICROBRAIDS

- YA'LL RAELLE IS SINGING. RAELLE IS SINGING STFU THIS IS SO PERFECT.

- if we don't get Raelle serenading Scylla by the end of this show what's even the point

- AND eliot said she was thinking about Scylla aaaaaaaa

- she deserved those dad hugs, I'm so sad she still thinks her mom's dead tho

- watching tip: go back on the scene Alder is getting her throat burned and just watch the biddies roll around dramatically on the floor. You don't have to thank me. I was laughing hard at that

- I had a feeling Raelle was gonna get taken but STILL JESUS THAT SCENE

- it scared me so much and poor Tally tried to save her 😔

- ya'll get what THIS means right??

- Scylla and willa are gonna HAVE to go get her

- there's no way they won't

- I'm 100% not ready for next week but I want it sooo bad

[jaskiersvalley]

So I just discovered your maned wolf Jaskier and I thought I might add something I know about them. As the original person mentioned they are not foxes or wolves but more like a wild dog but not. They are their own thing. Also their pee smells like marijuana. I've seen some at the the national zoo in D.C. they do better in pairs or with company then on their own. The last one they had before the pair of brothers they had when I went didn't do good on their own. Their legs are sk long because they are made to see over tall grass. I love manned wolves they are so unique.

This is such a delightful bunch of facts about maned wolves! Thank you for sharing your knowledge, I adored finding out more about these fascinating creatures. As thanks, here’s a slightly different take on maned wolf!Jaskier for you.

True Colours

It was rare for graduates of Aretuza to get together. Mostly because their motives and goals were rather at odds with each other usually so it wasn't a good idea to get together. Things could get rather unpleasant. But, once in a while, they could set their ambitions aside and enjoy each other's company.

"I'm telling you, she was scum," Yennefer giggled, leaning into Fringilla's shoulder. "You can do miles better."

"I just wish I'd known what she was like before I wasted all that time on her." Nursing a freshly broken heart, Fringilla was eager for any kindness her peers would show her. "Humans are scum."

All too eager to agree, Yennefer nodded along. Humans were rather unfortunate creatures, she couldn't really help with that, ridding the Continent of them was quite unethical. But the thing about true colours, she could most definitely help with that.

"I've got the perfect spell! We can reveal the whole Continent's true colours." Laughter went up around them at the declaration and Yennefer sniffed as she straightened up. "You can all help. Or watch and learn."

It was quite amazing, how much power five drunken sorceresses could harness. The spell took a considerable amount of rather raw, unrefined Chaos and they all sprawled on the ground in a sweaty pile by the time it was done. Alas, in their drunken stupor, they noted that the spell had done nothing other than make the sky flash and rumble in an ever spreading wave until it moved out of sight.

The next morning they were all suitably hungover and more than ready to return to their usual duties. There was only so much time they could spend with each other before the truce ended and they were at each other's throats again.

Somewhere else on the Continent it was another beautiful day for Jaskier to follow Geralt around. He said follow because he'd once again managed to piss his boyfriend off and sent him stomping off ahead.

"Look, all I said was that you'd look better if you just glowered a little less," Jaskier grumbled. The lute case bounced against his back like it always did when he did a little jog to keep up with Geralt. "You do give the wrong impression sometimes. I swear you do this deliberately, hide the fact you're an absolutely cuddly sweetheart under all those onion-y layers of doom, gloom and...I have nothing that rhymes. Broom? Shroom? Groom? Fume! Because you're fuming!"

Funnily enough, it did nothing to ease Geralt's sulk but Jaskier was undeterred. This was nothing more than a blip in the journey of their love. A bit of bad weather, not even a storm.

They wandered in a manner Jaskier would call aimless while Geralt described as optimal in the hunt for a contract. At least it got them to a town in decent time, the soft summer light enough to get to an inn for food and a performance. Jaskier was ecstatic.

His set was going great, everyone was merry, having a blast as he belted out shanty after drinking song. Ale flowed, as did the coin. The sun was setting and he set his lute aside for a quick break. One moment he was staring out over the tavern and the next the world lurched. He was shorter, on all fours and everything looked and smelled different. Especially the patrons. A variety of animals stared back at him before pandemonium exploded. Most creatures reared back, staring in terror into the corner Geralt had been in, which was quite glaringly empty.

"What has that bastard done to us?" The cry went up and the dogs and foxes in the tavern rallied, ready to hunt Geralt down.

"I did nothing." A familiar voice rang through the room and everyone backed away as a harvest mouse climbed onto the table. Cute and defenceless, Geralt stared out at the tavern from the top of the table, nose twitching.

From his vantage point on the stage, with his long legs, Jaskier could see how the villagers weren't convinced. In fact, they saw an easy target and looked ready to exact revenge on an innocent party. Snarling, he raced to the other side of the room and hopped onto the table, towering over Geralt.

"He's innocent." Sharp teeth were bared fiercely at the crowd. When it didn't look like they would back down, Jaskier did the only thing he could. He picked Geralt up in his mouth and pretended to swallow while the tiny harvest mouse clambered out the side of his mouth and got lost in Jaskier's thick mane.

The villagers didn't look all that appeased but Jaskier didn't allow them to get out of control.

"Tasted like disappointment. Now. Shall we howl at the moon?" For some reason it seemed to do the trick and the shock of being turned into animals turned into a celebration.

In the morning, everyone was back to their regular human form, including Geralt. They had to make a hasty run from the village before the angry mob punished them for their existence.

"Whew! That was exciting. But also, what the fuck happened?"

There were no answers. Each night, as the sun set, they changed into animal form. Jaskier a maned wolf, Geralt a harvest mouse.

"I can't work like this," Geralt growled. "We're getting to the bottom of this."

Only, there seemed to be no help. Everywhere they went, the whole Continent seemed to turn into animals from dusk until dawn. Most villagers were wolves, bears, cats and other animals that could be tamed but the wild, aggressive undertones of predators were still there. A few were goats, cows and sheep, a few bulls. By contrast, courts were full of snakes and birds. Rarer, less straightforward to deal with. In Geralt's opinion, less pleasant to deal with. And no court's sorceress would give him a straight answer. They had to know something, Geralt knew when he was being lied to. But he didn't know what they were hiding.

With no other option, he headed home. Each night he climbed into Jaskier's mane, allowed his boyfriend to keep him safe from owls - some natural, others transformed humans who enjoyed the hunt. At the base of Kaer Morhen, he ran into something most unusual. A hyena gave Jaskier a flat stare from where it was curled in the overgrowth. By its stomach was a capybara and a hare, both looking a bit patchy and weathered. Even more interestingly, there was a cockatoo on the top of its head, eyes closed.

"Friends," Jaskier called, "we come in peace."

Never before had Jaskier felt more threatened than when a capybara and hare looked ready to tear his throat out.

"Eskel. Lambert," Geralt called and climbed to sit on the end of Jaskier's snout. "You made friends."

The hyena got to its feet, looming over the transformed Witchers protectively. "You know these two?"

"Geralt you fuck," the hare growled. "Is this your doing?"

"Would I be here if it was?" Jaskier didn't have to see the harvest mouse's face to know Geralt was rolling his eyes. Still, he tried.

It made the cockatoo screech out a laugh. "Crossed eyes do not become you, weird wolf thing."

Puffing up, Jaskier wanted to object but Geralt cut in. "Leave Jaskier out of this. Who are you travelling with?"

"I'm Aiden," the cockatoo replied, spreading his wings wide and bobbing down in a bird equivalent of a bow. "Cat Witcher by name, cockatoo by nature."

That, Geralt could have guessed, he was much more interested in the hyena who seemed keen to be forgotten. He stared at him until it got awkward.

"Cahir." The name said nothing but there was a broad, southern accent to it. Intrigued, Geralt wished he could take a better look at the man. He would be able to do so in the daylight.

Introductions out of the way, Geralt climbed down, only to scuttle across the gap and climb onto Eskel's back. The capybara grunted sleepily and settled back on the ground.

"Sleep. We've got quite the climb ahead of us tomorrow." At least it was warm, meaning the trek should only take a day without snow impeding them. They'd be home by evening.

They staggered through on four legs the following night. Mostly because Jaskier had insisted on stopping and admiring every angle of every view, sighing wistfully. Finally, they arrived at the door which had been left open a crack, only needing to be nudged open on silent, freshly oiled hinges.

"I was wondering when you'd get home," a voice greeted them. Vesemir did not look impressed as he looked over them. A gopher stared at them with a rather done expression. "Aretuza had a lot to answer for."

[goddess-aelin]

OK let me just word vomit all of my thoughts about A Court of Silver Flames right here.

Overall, I LOVED IT! Say what you want but Sarah J Maas is a fantastic writer and storyteller. She is great with world building and most of the plot is centered around the characters, their feelings, and their relationships with each other.

On Nesta: listen, I get that she did some shitty stuff. Like VERY shitty stuff. Does this make her evil or inherently bad? Nah. She went through a lot of traumatic stuff and was groomed literally from childhood by her mother to be this cold, aloof person. This book was about her finding her way in life away from all of that, forging her own path and finding out who she really is. Most of all, it was about her healing. I related so heavily to Nesta throughout this whole book. I would really like to say that the sister I’m most like is Feyre because she’s an angel but in all honesty, I’m probably most like Nesta. If it’s hard for you to show your emotions (because of trauma, childhood, or whatever) you will know that sometimes you act out in ways you might not want to. It obviously doesn’t excuse shitty actions but it also doesn’t make you an inherently bad person. If you can’t relate to being in a dark place and lashing out, just wanting people to get away from you because you either can’t take the attention or feel like you don’t deserve any kindness, then I’m so happy for you. Because that place sucks. I honestly cried so many times throughout the book because what Nesta was feeling was what I had been feeling at points in my life. Thankfully, I had therapy and meds to help my anxiety and depression and work through traumas, but obviously Nesta didn’t have that. The points in which Nesta felt one thing and lashed out and said another were happening to me on a regular basis. I felt so shitty prior and saying those things, even if I apologized, made me feel SO much shittier. Coming out of that cycle of hatred of yourself is so difficult and her journey was so real and intense. So thank you, Sarah, for writing this. Most cathartic scene was where Nesta was dancing at the court of nightmares, feeling alive again. It’s exactly how I felt when I got back into my art and realized how much I was missing. 

*note: I also see a lot of people complaining about Nesta not apologizing to Feyre. While I am the biggest Feyre fan, I also understand that this was a portion of the story. Nesta only just started to be in a good place in the last few pages of the book. I didn’t really expect a full resolution, especially with so much going on. Would I have loved an extra 200 pages of resolution? Of course!

On Cassian: I’ve seen so many people say that this book made Cassian seem like he was just a dumb guy who can only think about getting laid. I didn’t see that at all? Obviously there were a lot of smut scenes (I was sweating whew). Idk if some people can’t read between the lines but he literally knew Nesta was his mate almost the whole time and if this was the only way she’d let him have her, then he was willing to be ok with that. I felt like this book brought out a really nice, softer and nurturing side of Cassian. (Is he my new husband? Yes, yes he is) Also NESSIAN SUPREMACY. Am I as obsessed as I am with Feysand? Probably not but I’m definitely close to that point. We love a warrior couple who is soft for each other. Literally how does SJM write these perfect couples? She’s ruined any relationship for me unless it’s with a sexy strong illyrian male. 

*Sigh* on the Azriel/Elain/Gwyn/Lucien situation: I want to say that I have no strong opinion on this situation and would honestly be ok with whatever happens. Mostly because I trust that Sarah knows what she’s doing and she hasn’t let me down yet (even if she has ripped my heart out multiple times). Would it be cool to see a deviation from the mates? I mean, I guess. I’m kinda a sucker for there being that person out there for you so I don’t hate this trope? I do lean more towards Gwynriel and Elucien because of this. This is not to say that Lucien is entitled to Elain because obviously he’s not. I do see more potential though in Gwynriel because of both of their histories. I will say that before ACOSF, I shipped e/lriel but I did a little switcheroo after I met Gwyn. I think she’s the perfect compliment to Az and would be a really cute dynamic. Maybe she’d help his self loathing, they could help each other heal from the trauma? Possibilities are endless, really. I do think a few things point to Gwynriel, though. One, Elain is described as not being suited for the night court or the color black. Not necessarily a deal breaker but interesting that the author put that in there. Perhaps she would be more suited towards the Spring court or Day court *side eyes Lucien and daddy Helion*? Two, without taking the extra Az chapter into account, I think the Gwyn/Az dynamic is so good. They are building to be equals and compliments of each other. Three, taking the Az chapter into account, while he and Elain have chemistry, I don’t see the give and take that Gwyn has with him. Not saying he doesn’t care or that it’s superficial because I don’t agree with either of those statements. That Az chapter did seem it was a push towards Gwyn though, not Elain. Someone also pointed out that Az hides his hand scars from literally almost everyone as if he’s ashamed. But he’s never done that from Gwyn. Lastly, I also think Az deserves his own mate. He wants that so badly now that his brothers have mates and I just think being with someone who will always have that bond with someone else (even if they don’t want it) is doing him a bit of a disservice. But who knows what will happen! I will reiterate that I trust Sarah fully and she has not led me astray. So whatever happens, I know it will be good and satisfying. 

The single part I did not like was the fact that somehow Gwyn/Emerie/Nesta could take out 6+ fully grown and trained warriors with only 5-6 months of daily training... especially when it took Cassian 7 years to wield a sword... I just keep telling myself it’s because Cassian and Azriel are such great teachers. 

Anyway, if you were debating reading it because you heard some not great things like I did, I hope this helps to sway you. Because it was a fantastic, entertaining book and I 100% enjoyed every second of it.

[holylulusworld]

Hated Love 3 - Post-wedding apocalypse

Summary: Will your wedding become a dream or a nightmare?

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Mobster!Daughter!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Ruby

Warnings: angst, love-hate relationship, Dean hates the reader, and she hates him, language, snarky comments, arguments, smut, public sex, unprotected sex, arranged marriage, food play, anal play (not really; does eating pie off a butt count?), implied threesome (mentioned/and implied)

Kink: Foodplay

A/N: Y/F/N = Your father’s name

Catch up here:

Part 1 - Hated Love

Part 2 - Hated Love – The Reckoning

Kinktober 2020

Wedding days should be filled with laughter, cake, white dresses, and people crying as they watch the bride and groom confess their love for each other.

Wedding days shouldn’t be filled with odd noises coming out of the bride’s room right before the ceremony.

“Look at you, filled to your limit,” Dean purrs, holding your body against the wall.

He’s driving wildly into you, not caring anyone who passes your room can hear he broke your fathers’ rule to not see you before the wedding.

“Missed this tight little pussy. Your father is an idiot for believing he can keep me away from my girl.”

“I’m, fuck me, not your girl, Winchester,” your eyes roll back at the way Dean grips your ass to fuck up into you. “Did you forget that I’m your fiancé?”

“Never, sweetheart,” Dean grins, rolling his hips faster. “How could I ever forget I’m allowed to fuck you anytime I want to from now on.”

“Already daydreaming?” you laugh when someone knocks at your door, to tell you that the ceremony will start in ten minutes. “Faster, Dean. I want to cum before I agree to marry your sorry ass.”

Dean tries to fix your dress while you fight with your hair. “The zipper, I think it’s ruined,” you groan at Dean’s words, adding another bobby pin to your hair. “Do you have a clasp pin?”

You would laugh about Dean, even find it adorable he tries to fix your dress but not three rooms away your families wait for you to attend a wedding – your wedding.

“Dean, you can’t use a clasp pin to fix my wedding gown! Why did you have to rip it down my body? Jesus, I swear you’re a kinky bastard,” Dean grins, nodding eagerly whilst his hands creep toward your ass to squeeze it tightly.

“Guys, you should stop doing whatever you are doing and move your asses outside. Y/N’s father is close to starting a war. John is no better. I can tell, I never saw Y/F/N that mad,” Sam calls from outside the room, snickering. “Dean, stuff it back inside and hurry.”

“I ruined her dress,” Dean curses, still fighting with the zipper. “Do you have a safety pin? Or a jacket she can wear?”

“Wait, I’ll ask Ruby. Maybe she can help Y/N out. Just wait here,” you roll your eyes at Dean when he tries to repair your dress with a bobby pin.

“Dean, stop trying,” a deep sigh leaves your lips, realizing this could be a sign. “Maybe we shouldn’t marry. For years we hated each other and now you want to marry me.” Dean has the guts to smirk at your words.

“Oh sweetheart, you are mine and I intend on collecting,” he husks, grabbing the back of your neck to kiss you fiercely. His tongue slips inside your mouth to explore every inch of your wet cavern. “I will not let you slip through my fingers again, Y/N. Now be good, get out of that dress and we will try to fix it.”

“If not,” you grin, sliding your hand over Dean’s chest, “I can still marry you in nothing but my underwear…”

“Perfect, Ruby,” you smile, checking on your wedding gown. “Where did you learn to sew? I never thought you would be the one saving my dress.”

“Let’s say Sam likes to rip my clothes off my body too. I hated that I had to explain why my clothes got ripped open almost every week,” Dean snickers, watching Sam’s cheeks turn pink. “Don’t act all shy now, Winchester.”

“I know you would like to talk about my sex life some more, but we should not wait any longer or Y/N’s father will lose his patience. I think he already checked on his gun,” Sam tries to turn your attention back toward your wedding.

“I guess it’s time for a wedding,” you smirk, holding out your hand for Dean. “Don’t you think I’ll let you out of sight, Winchester. I don’t need a runaway groom.”

“Damn, I forgot my sneakers,” Dean grins, taking your offered hand to squeeze it tightly. “No one will stop me from marrying your cute ass, sweetheart.”

The ceremony is short, honest, and filled with insults. Which means you called Dean a humorless jerk. He called you a frigid bitch. You exchanged rings and swore to each other not to stray.

Whilst John grinned throughout the whole ceremony, even dared to laugh, your father remained stoic. He didn’t like you acted as if the ceremony or rather the whole wedding is a joke to you and Dean.

Your father’s mood didn’t get any better when you insisted that the wedding was perfect to you. Even though you laughed, joked, and threw insults at your husband, it was the wedding you wanted.

The after-party, or as you liked to call it, the desperate people buffet who look for someone to fuck after a wedding, went on until 2 am. Your father grumbled the whole time, not missing John was in a good mood.

When the last guest finally left the ballroom you kicked your shoes off, grabbed the last piece of cake, and pushed it into Dean’s face.You laughed your ass off, he wasn’t amused.

That’s how you ended up, bend over the table with the cake, hands tied tightly behind your back with Dean’s tie whilst your husband smears the cake all over your ass.

“You should see your ass, baby. Ready to get eaten,” you gasp, feeling his teeth sink into your left cheek to leave an angry bite mark. “What will your daddy say when I send him a copy of the video?”

“He’ll believe I married a kinky bastard who likes to smear cake onto my butt,” you giggle, feeling his fingers slide through your folds. “No cake on my pussy or you’ll lose your dick.”

“Shhh…, sweetheart,” Dean smirks, licking more cake off your ass, moaning as you press your butt into his face. “I’d like to take your ass.”

“No,” you grit out when Dean’s teeth leave another mark on your right cheek. “Not now, Dean. I want you to fuck me on that table. Give me the perfect ending.”

“Babe, you’ll get anything you want but I already chased you through the ballroom. We had a food fight and now I’m going to fuck the life out of you,” Dean smirks, feeling wetness coat his fingers.

“I want your dick, Winchester. Give it to me,” you complain. “I’m your wife, fulfill your duty,” laughing at your words Dean gets up to slowly unzip his pants. His dick slaps against your ass and you whine feeling Dean step away from the table to take another picture.

“I must admit I never imagined our wedding like this,” Dean is back on you. This time he slightly lifts your butt to slide into you with one forceful snap of his hips.

“Dean,” you cry out, walls clenching tightly around his thick cock. “Fuck me, please.”

“Love it when you beg me, Y/N,” if not for the pressure he builds in your core with every sloppy thrust, you would gladly slap his face. “Love it, even more, when you moan my name.”

“Dean, fuck,” one hand cups the back of your neck to hold you forcefully down, the other grips the edge of the table. Dean speeds up, ignores his phone started to ring moments ago. “Dean, the phone.”

“Later, sweetheart,” his moans turn louder, and you swear, it’s the most erotic sound you ever heard. You don’t know how the sex feels to Dean but the way he calls out your name gives away he enjoys it as much as you do.

“It won’t stop ringing,” he’s angrily grasping for the phone, to yell at anyone who dared to disturb him. “Dean…”

“Shit give me just a minute,” you feel the knot tightening, ready to snap anytime when Dean speeds up once again. “I need to tell you something,” he pants, dropping the phone onto the table. “I guess you’ll not like it.”

“Make me cum and we can talk about anything, Dean,” falling hard you rest your head onto the table. “Come on, Winchester. Give it to me good.”

Dean groans at your words, not needing more encouragement to fill you with his sticky cum. He’s fast to pull out.

“Promise me to not get mad.” You cock a brow when Dean removes the tie, offering you a sly smile.

“What did you do, Winchester?” He’s grinning cheekily whilst he hands you his jacket to cover your modesty. “Dean?”

“You see…erm-uh,” he coughs, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you remember Vegas a few years ago?”

“Vague. I know we woke in a bed…with Sam,” you hum, closing your eyes. “I think it was a hot mess back then. Why do you bring Sammy up?”

“Well, it’s kinda – whew, there is no good way to tell you,” eyes narrowed you fist Dean’s shirt to bring him to your eye level.

“Jesus, tell me what’s wrong. I’m freaking tired and want to drive home, maybe smear more cake onto my husband and lick it off,” Dean huffs, glancing at you. “Dean, you are scaring me.”

“Okay…let me tell you what happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas. Somehow, and I don’t know how it happened, you did not only fuck me and Sammy, but you also married my brother. The marriage never got anulled, and this means you are still married to my brother,” Dean gasps for air when he finally stops talking. “Sorry.”

“What the…?” you blink a few times. “Wait…what? I’m married to Sam?” Dean nods, not missing the dirty grin on your lips. “Does this mean I can have both of you? I always dreamed of having a harem…”

Dean’s jaw drops when you grasp for his phone to send the video he made to Sam.

“Ruby said he can go to hell. I think my baby brother is lonely and heartbroken. Sammy is at your daddy’s house. Imagine, having us both in your room for daddy to hear…” Dean can barely end his line before you drag him out of the ballroom.

“This is the best wedding ever…”

SPN Forever Tags

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Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

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