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drgnflyteabox · 4 months ago

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can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day.

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb.

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved.

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk.

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

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alchemical-rhapsodaire · 2 years ago

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Wooooo oooookkk I think I'm gonna take a lil break from the QSMP for a bit

Shit kinda got crazy with q!Forever and q!Foolish today and even tho I missed parts of the fight, I don't really want to watch the VODs for a good little while for my own sanity.

Btw fandom is kinda being toxic rn ngl but everyone pls remember that this is only rp for a block game and Forever also apologized to Foolish and Leo, said he was gonna tell Vegetta abt the incident (not the best idea I think, but at least he's honest), and explained some RP boundaries ooc, from my understanding.

While I enjoy the improv RP that's mostly been taking place in the server (makes it feel more authentic), I do believe that for major stuff like this, it should kinda be planned out off-stream and communication should take place before-hand. Because while this is roleplay, things will get heated and different ppl may have different interpretations of events.

Also, I do understand the characters' reactions being this heated right now. Especially q!Forever- although it doesn't excuse him hitting Leo- a child- man's been through a lot of shit the past couple days, and I think we all kinda forgot his slightly insane side from his early days on the server. It's just been amplified now that he's gone through trauma after trauma and betrayal after betrayal.

#qsmp #q!forever #foreverplayer #q!foolish #foolish gamers #leonarda the egg #qsmp leaonarda #q!vegetta #umm at least philza's stream was lowkey calming and hilarious #he was just mining with tallulah and chayanne most of the time lmao #in summary:#this is only rp for a block game #i dont think anyone's feelings actlly got hurt irl #hopefully #but regardless pls remember to respect the CCs #i just wish this whole cellbit villain arc was kinda communicated more thouroughly tbh #i'll tune in again tmrw but rn things on the server hve just been super stressful lately #yk what would rlly calm me down rn?#being emotionally devastated over infinity war and endgame for the billionth time lmaoo

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ostaramoon · 1 month ago

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lovebird ➹ dean winchester

【 pairing 】 dean x angel!reader / cupid!reader 【 summary 】 you’re a cupid, you can’t help the natural call to make two beings fall in love. even if it means bringing critters into the bunker when no ones looking. 【 cw 】 fluff, spn lore on cupids is bland so yes i’m adding to it, grumpy x sunshine trope 【 wordcount 】 1.3k

the bunker had been under a quiet hum for quite some time now, sam in the library organizing and filing while dean sat in the war room looking for cases. the older winchester had nearly forgotten about the little angel cas left in their care a few weeks ago. a cupid, to be precise.

at first he absolutely refused, claimed they weren’t a daycare for heaven’s flight crew. but cas, being a busy man, simply left the brothers standing in the bunker with a smiley little cherub. unlike most angels dean has met, you were sickeningly sweet, incredibly helpless at times, and though he would never admit it— adorable, too.

you tried to be helpful, like quietly stepping in to do the chores sam and dean argued over. but it’s not like you really knew what you were doing. like the time dean tiredly shuffled into the kitchen one morning, opening the cupboard to find bacon, milk, and eggs stashed in there. when he started on an angry roll of name calling, it was your tear filled eyes and pouty lips that made him shut up quick. that afternoon was spent teaching you what food goes in the fridge.

or the time you tried to fix up the impala, completely unaware that spray paint doesn’t cover up scratches. when dean strolled into the garage, expecting to take a sweet sunday joy ride just to find his baby had been vandalised, his shouts damn near shook the entire bunker. when he found you with paint stained fingertips and that pathetic wobbly lip, his anger dissipated. you settled on a promise to never under any circumstances ever touch baby again.

now, as he sits before the glow of sam’s laptop, the quiet begins to feel entirely unsettling. he leaves his spot, heading for the library. when he doesn’t see you taking on your usual little helper tasks with sam his brows furrow.

“have you seen the little bird?”

sam looks up from his pile of books and paper, “no,” he shrugs, “i thought she was with you.”

that damn cupid is up to something, he thinks to himself.

with a sigh dean turns, setting off to sweep the bunker. the kitchen is quiet, empty. at least the food is safe he assures himself. heading down stairs into the hall of bedrooms he finds your room empty as well. as he heads towards the dungeon, the last place he’d expect you as you once described it as dark and spooky, a muffled giggle stops him in his tracks.

he waits, listening, as he hears it again coming from sam’s bedroom. he quietly approaches the door, gently pushing it open to find you kneeling on the ground with your back to the door.

“what the hell are you doing, lovebird?” he crosses the room, standing over you and what he can now see to be a pair of brown fluffy rabbits.

startled, you look up at him with wide eyes, “nothing.” you smile. his heart does that stupid little flutter that seems to only happen when you smile at him like that. all sweet with a pinch of mischief.

“right,” his brows knit together as he points at the rabbits, “this is nothing?”

a little humph leaves your lips as you rise to your feet, crossing your arms and looking up at dean with a determined scowl across your face, “i’m matchmaking, if you must know. these two have been hopping around outside for days and i could practically smell how much they need each other.”

he looks between you and the critters a few times, “yeah, no, we’re not doing this. no rabbits— no animals of any kind allowed in the bunker.”

his heart pangs as you jut out your bottom lip, eyes growing glossy. damn this pathetically cute little thing. his hands instinctively cup your face, “hey, hey, lovebird. no crying, remember?” his voice gruff, barely masking his annoyance.

you sniffle, biting your cheek to stop the tears brimming your lashes. you can’t always help the crying, cupids are naturally empathetic creatures with no qualms about showing their emotions. dean thumbs your cheeks, giving a light squeeze to one side.

“but i’m a cupid!” you cry out, “i can’t help wanting to help them fall in love.”

“rabbits don’t fall in love!” he drops his hands from your face, trying to find his words despite the absurdity of yours. “they mate, like the saying, ‘mate like rabbits’ there's no love happening here.”

you stare up at him, wiping stray tears as some terrible thought makes your face turn sour. “so, like you?” your voice reflects the absolute devastation you feel at the realization.

“oh what now?” dean groans.

“they’re like you! mating with no love.” you whimper. it’s no secret dean moves about women with everything except love. it was one of the first things you noticed about him, a spider's web of potential love stories that never takes because he’s swatting them away before anything divine can happen. you could have easily fixed this, but something about dean getting sweet with another woman makes your heart feel heavy. besides, dean asked you specifically not to matchmake with humans while you were on earth. so, the itch to use your skills was killing you and a perfectly innocent set of rabbits happened to be right outside the bunker.

dean shoots you an incredulous look before shaking his head, “alright, i’m gunna pretend you didn’t just say that, little bird. we’re getting these things out. now.” he brushes past you, reaching for the rabbits far too slowly and aggressively, making them scurry off in opposite directions.

“great!” you shout, “you scared them! now they’ll never even mate!” you drop to your knees, cooing gently at the fluff hiding underneath the bed.

dean paces behind you, eyes squeezed shut as he musters up all the patience in the world, “hold on,” he stops abruptly, tilting his head to you, “why are you in sam’s room?”

a shy smile finds your lips at you meet his quizzical gaze, “sam doesn’t say no nearly as often as you do. i thought if he saw how cute the bunnies are, he’d be on my side and i’d get to keep them and their love babies.”

as much as dean would love to think your words fill him with nothing but anger and annoyance, your innocently sharp manipulation is rather fascinating. you were right, sam doesn’t like to say no and he was more fond of having pets than his older brother is, but dean would have put an end to this little scheme one way or another.

as you lie half under the bed now, reaching for one of the rabbits, dean notices the little black droppings peppering the room. sam’s room.

“actually, lovebird,” he smirks, “why don’t we leave those two alone for a bit, see if your matchmaking skills really can work on the wildlife.”

your excitement at his words makes you scramble off of the ground, peering up at him with a hopeful smile, “really? you think it’ll work?”

“mhm,” he grins, stealing your hand in his, “let’s give ‘em some space, i’ll watch that reality show you love and let you tell me which ones are fated souls and all that cupid stuff you talk about.”

➹

you sat with your legs crossed on the couch, dean beside you with a beer in hand and an amused grin as you raddled off all the little quirks that are tell-tale signs of a cupid’s work. on the other side of the bunker there's a clunk of commotion that startles you, but dean hardly reacts, his grin morphing into a satisfied smirk.

“what was that?” you grab dean’s arm, shuffling closer to him.

“give it a sec.” he responds cooly. within seconds sam is stomping into the room, bewildered and clearly annoyed.

“why,” he huffs, “are there rabbits shitting all over my room?”

“oh no.” you whimper, sinking deeper into the couch, hiding your head under dean’s arm.

“the little angel brought you a gift, sammy,” the older winchester let’s out an uncontrollable laugh, watching his frazzled brother with pure amusement, “don’t you just love it?”

y'all i am not used to writing without angst or an emotional overtone so pls lmk if this sucks lol

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester x angel!reader

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planetpiastri · 9 months ago

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pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader [no faceclaim] summary: you're a meme rapper with a cult following on youtube, and oscar is always in your comments, but it isn't until you release your first single that everyone puts two and two together. notes: this is one of the very first requests i ever received, and finally FINALLY it is done!! we are so back

liked by oscarpiastri, patriciooward, and others

ynusername guys if i wrote a song about dino nuggets would you unfollow me be honest

view all 1,458 comments

username1 yeah

ynusername 😔

oscarpiastri no

ynusername 😁

username2 maybe

ynusername i'm getting mixed signals

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, and 502,876 others

oscarpiastri Oscar goes outside: Japan edition

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username3 you're not even outside in any of these pictures oscar what

landonorris who are we getting dinner with, young man? 🤨

oscarpiastri My mum 😊 landonorris yeah right

username4 omg any yn fans in the comments?? mother liked the post 👀

username5 yeah they follow each other lol i don't think they've ever met though username6 they've definitely interacted, but yeah i think they're just like online acquaintances haha

ynusername nice berries mate

oscarpiastri Thanks, I've heard that before

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri, and 251,876 others

mclaren Happy Birthday Oscar! 🥳

view all 7,654 comments

username7 guys why's oscar kinda...

username8 WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??

oscarpiastri 😁😁😁

ynusername happy birthday. oscarpiastri Ok that's a lot of negative energy please step back username9 help these interactions are always so random??

username10 oscar's waist looking SNATCHED omg

username11 guys is this a safe space for me to confess something?

landonorris no, keep it to yourself

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and others

ynusername finally releasing a single woohoo!! 'bark bark' coming out april 19th on spotify and apple music ^-^

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username12 OMG YESSSS

username13 WHAT YN THIS IS SO EXCITING!!!! CONGRATS!!!!!

oscarpiastri What's it about

ynusername you have to stream the song and find out silly oscarpiastri Is it about me ynusername oh my god

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others

ynusername the type of face you'd go to war for (look past the camera, he's shy)

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landonorris shucks, i'm blushing

ynusername i am so obviously not talking about you

username14 NEW MUSIC WHEN??

ynusername the single JUST came out CHILL!

username15 the last slide??

username16 new music hint? ynusername no that's just me talking about oscar and lando landonorris ....which one am i? ynusername i literally called you a slut nine times in suzuka username17 so oscar is lust???? oscarpiastri Thank you Barbie!!

liked by mclaren, ynusername, and 516,392 others

oscarpiastri Busy busy week, but glad the secret's out. My girlfriend is cooler and funnier than yours, by the way.

view all 7,990 comments

ynusername you're so hot i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

ynusername the hair?? the smile?? the grabbable waist?? WOW!!

ynusername gonna write another song about you

ynusername if i saw you in the street i'd catcall you

ynusername i want you.

oscarpiastri I love you too

username18 FKSDHJGLKHDJG IM SO HAPPY YN CAN BE UNHINGED AND CRAZY NOW GOOD FOR HER GOOD FOR THEM!!

request: hiiii babe! i love ur account! i was wondering if u could do an oscar piastri x meme rapper gf with an @addy_kate fc. like shes actually really funny and her music is oddly good (like tmg).

tagging: @thearchieves @sheridamn @nikfigueiredo @charlig123456789 @ilove-tswizzle @aandreea2005 @sideboobrry @vellicora @eire-the-egg @marymustdie @cocote1410 @taygrls @koalapastries @vroomvroommuppett @nichmeddar @d3kstar @333kiki @ririyulife @resident-swiftie @zimm04 @jupiter-je-taime @ever_bizzare @blue-isnt-avaliable @iifloweringnightsii @graciewrote @formulaal @m0cha-bunny @marvelsimps @mehrmonga @elliegrey2803 @theblueblub @gwginnyweasley @sltwins @f1kenzzz @alexmarie29 @donttouchthegnote @clemswrld @hollieeelol @leireggsworld @luvvtrent @maddie-naps @lilcowboy0 @tygecjjd @skepvids @bwddermilch @pnkwhskyprncss @notawc @landossainz @janegxi @chaotic_version @lookatitlaterlol @cometsrodrigo @lizzypiastri @nixisracing @lavviee @yaesflorist

if you want to be added to any of my taglists, fill out this form

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #instagram au #f1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #f1 instagram au #social media au #oscar piastri au #saturn writes

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xwritingdixonx · 1 year ago

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Is It Better To Speak or To Die? | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: After being rescued from Woodbury by Rick's group, you struggle with living a "normal" life in the walls of the prison. The trauma's inflicted on you at the hands of the Govenour drag you to the deepest depths. A certain archer is the onyl one who can drag you back out.

Warnings: slow burn, language, smoking, grief, depression, talk of body scars, implied smut, implied past abuse, Governor (enough said)

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison, Alexandria.

Song Recommendation: Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Ray, Would That I - Hozier

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The survivors of Woodbury had called The Prison “home” for only a week. The war and downfall of the Governor and Woodbury were still fresh in everyone’s gut, though others were making themselves comfortable very quickly. You were not. It was such an irony to you. Taking shelter in a prison as if this world wasn’t a prison. As if the traumas of the past year of survival didn’t hold you by your throat. Your own mental prison.

The bowl you held still warmed your hands. Though you knew no appetite arose in your stomach, you still took the bowl Carol offered just to be polite. Standing alone, your back leaned against the support beam of the gazebo all the benches sat under for meals. You had been a part of Woodbury...but you certainly hadn’t been a part of the community. Not near the end at least.

Most people steered clear of you. Avoiding your tired hardened eyes and threatening gazes. Avoiding the tenseness in your persona. Completely removing themselves from the possibility of having an interaction with the emotionless shell you had become. Others were compassionate, showing you any empathy they could bear. You’d get a polite head nod and warm smile occasionally, though you never returned it.

In Woodbury, no one asked questions, they talked and gossiped amongst one another but never bothered. But at the prison, you were new. Fresh meat. So in turn, you had your fair share of stares and whispers from Rick’s group.

Carol had become your latest bother. In the mornings, just like today, people would slowly make their way to line up for their share of breakfast. Your desire was to simply come out in the crisp morning air and smoke a cigarette, attempting to forget the night of terrors you encountered when you closed your eyes. You’d be sure to isolate yourself a bit away so the smoke didn’t bother anyone’s morning. But Carol simply wouldn’t accept it.

The last few days she’d noticed the lack of breakfast passing your lips. You’d smoke a cigarette and then wait to eat a proper meal for dinner. Reminding her of another certain someone.

She couldn’t make you line up and wait like everyone else. She couldn’t make you come and sit at a table and be social. So, she’d make you your own bowl and walk it over to you, giving you a polite smile, and then walk away. She did this for the past 3 days, catching onto your pattern early on.

“How’s she doing?” Rick drawled as Carol handed him his own bowl of powdered eggs and steamed potatoes. “Can bring a horse to water but you can’t make ‘em drink.” Carol joked back, Rick nodded in response and thanked her for his bowl.

Rick had been keeping an eye on you ever since you’d arrived. Unlike most of Woodbury, who willingly came running out to be rescued, you were found by Rick. The door to the room he found you in had been locked from the outside.

Everything he found out about you from that point had been from the mouths of others. You hadn’t even used words to tell him your name, he had been told by someone else. “Morning.” Rick greeted Daryl who was already almost finished his own breakfast, “Mornin’.” He stood with Daryl, neither of the men having time to sit with all the plans to improve the prison.

Daryl followed Rick’s gaze, noticing the way Rick seemed to be lost in thought. When the gaze ended on you, Daryl scoffed. “Figured that one out yet?” He asked, shoving a spoon of egg in his mouth. “Not yet.” Daryl had tried himself to scramble for puzzle pieces of you but had no success. You didn’t talk. Not a word, not even a whisper. There was a part of him that was intrigued by you, a part of him that wanted to dissect. But there was the other part that told him to mind his business.

“Good morning.” Riley begins to pass by, greeting Rick and Daryl. If the term Southern Bell was a person, that would be Riley. Blonde hair, dark emerald eyes, sweet smile, curvy in all the right places, and a smooth southern drawl. Smooth and sweet, nothing like your jagged sharp edges. Riley had been brought in with the Woodbury group and quickly made herself useful in running her mouth…but also in learning medical. “Morning.” Riley’s green eyes darted in the direction the men were looking. Because how dare their attention be on anyone but her.

“I feel so bad for her…” She commented, putting herself into their conversation. Rick and Daryl both gave each other a glance. Rick wanted to know about you from you. Not from the gossip and storytelling of others. “I swear it’s like her mouth was sewn into a frown when Jackson died.” Riley actually looked quite empathetic when she said this. “Who was that?”

“Her twin brother.”

Rick took a pause from eating his breakfast to let this new information marinate into his brain. Though neither of them asked for it, Riley continued. “When they first got to Woodbury, everything was fine. But then the Governor wanted Y/n to be one of his soldiers.” Using air quotations at the word soldiers.

“Y/n refused over and over. One night, Governor took Y/n and Jackson for a walk outside of Woodbury’s walls and Jackson didn’t come back…Governor said he got bit but…” Riley’s words trailed off as she looked at your stone-like features. “Y/n joined him after that…some people thought he killed Jackson and used it to force her to.” Her tone was uneasy as if the Governor would come to get her if she dared speak of it.

Or maybe she was more afraid of you.

“After that, I mean..” Riley scoffed dramatically and tried to ease the tension with a laugh, “I-I shouldn’t be talking about this anyway.” She gave the men a sheepish smile before swiftly walking away, joining a full table.

"Forgot how much people love to gossip huh?"

"Hmm," Daryl hummed in response. Rick took Daryl's empty bowl and stacked it on his own. "Gonna go give Judy her breakfast, alright?" As he nudged Daryl with his elbow, Daryl responded with a hum that was accompanied by a nod.

Daryl had learned the art of minding his business a long time ago. He didn't want people in his...so why pry into others?

You had finished your cigarette and smushed it into the concrete under your boot, now aimlessly poking around in the texture of the oatmeal. Carol frequently cooked her oatmeal for a tad too long and with too much liquid, giving it a mushy, snot like texture. It gave you another reason to skip out on breakfast but you at least wanted to try.

Daryl watched as you took a bite from the bowl. You moved around the food in your mouth, chewing slowly. The texture on your tongue was enough to turn you away. You looked in the direction of the bench where all of the younger children sat. Some talking with food still in their mouths. Their chattering stopped when they saw you approach like a dark gloomy cloud threatening rain.

Without saying a word, you placed your bowl in front of Patrick, offering him your share. Behind his thick glasses, he looked at the bowl then at you, and smiled. “Thanks Y/n.” You replied with a nod and walked away. Patrick was one of the few people from Woodbury who was consistently kind to you. He was always polite and never treated you any differently. You had actually heard him defend your name more than once. Perhaps he was just too young to feed into it but it was an act that didn’t go unappreciated by you.

And your act towards Patrick hadn’t gone unnoticed by Daryl. It wasn’t as if you had saved his life but you could’ve thrown your share away. Snuck over to the pig's pen and scraped it in. Instead, you gave it to a child.

Daryl would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued by you. He had never been intrigued by anyone in his life, though he couldn't deny the itch that was the mystery of you.

Two mornings after that one, Daryl had woken up particularly early. Readying himself to go outside the fences. There was a steady whisper amongst his friends the true reason he wondered out of the safety of the prison walls. The thought of The Governor still being alive haunted Daryl’s mind as it did the others. But no one would do what he did nearly every morning. No one except you.

Not many were typically up at this hour. The sun had barely risen and the morning air was still chilly from the night. When Daryl walked out into the courtyard, he didn’t expect to see you. He knew you were typically up earlier than others but not as early as him, not on days like this. You sat on the top of a picnic bench, feet planted where someone would typically sit. You faced away from Daryl but he could see the puff of smoke that typically followed you.

He could tell you weren’t in your typical nature. Despite the circumstances, you typically kept yourself put together. You wore a black long-sleeve fitted to your body and a pair of old gray sweatpants. Your hair was untamed and frizzy, having not been brushed yet. What had you up this early? What had you out of your cell so disheveled? And obviously, in such a rush?

The drag of the cigarette burned the back of your throat. It wasn’t as if you actually enjoyed smoking them. They tasted bad, itched your throat, and the smoke made your eyes water. But it felt as if holding them stopped your hands from shaking so badly every morning. It didn’t. But you’d keep lying to yourself and saying it did. You had woken up from another devilish dream, jolting you awake with a rapid heart and heavy breathing.

Typically you’d sit on the edge of your bed, head in your hands until your heart rate returned to normal. But on this particular morning, you couldn’t sit any longer in those walls, feeling the tightness of their build.

“Mornin.” He greeted you. What was he doing? Why was he even over here? Daryl’s mind ran with thoughts and questions as he awkwardly disrupted your own running mind.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. Someone disrupting you at this time wasn’t expected. As soon as Daryl saw the harsh glare hit your features, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what to say to you or what he was doing. Both of your heads turned at the sound of a door shutting, Carol lugging a big pot over to the serving table.

“Carol’s gonna start setting up soon…if ya wanna get outta here.” Your eyes followed Carol for a second before meeting Daryl’s.

Daryl had never seen you face to face, he’d never even spoken a word to you. Your initial glare wore off your face and you gave Daryl a single nod, standing up from the bench. Daryl caught his bottom lip and nervously chewed at it. “M’going…out” Daryl pointed in the direction of the woods, “If ya wanna come.” You glanced between Daryl and the woods and thought for a second before giving him a proper nod.

“Alright. I’ll wait for ya at the gate with my bike.”

It didn’t take long for you to meet Daryl. You’d switched your pants out with jeans and your bare feet with boots. Accompanied with your backpack and a pair of fingerless gloves to fight the chilly morning. You had obviously run a comb through your hair as well.

Daryl appreciated the space you gave him on the bike. You sat an inch or two back, your arms loose around him. Typically when people rode with him they held on tight, maybe a little too tight and too close for Daryl’s comfort, but you didn’t. A steady routine had been built between you and the archer after that morning. Along with a growing friendship.

Carol had picked up on this growing routine. By the fourth day, she began waking up even earlier, packing both of you lunches and a snack as if she were a mother sending her children to school.

The first few days your silence made Daryl uneasy. But soon, he actually began to enjoy your company. He even enjoyed your silence. It came in handy when he was tracking a deer or bunny.

The two of you had created your own language of looks, touches, and whistles. One morning you had gotten separated from Daryl while tracking and the song of the whistle was born.

The once colorful leaves were now a dirty brown and crunched awfully loud when you stepped on them. The early Fall months were slowly becoming even colder which meant being on the lookout for anything edible became far more important. Especially meat. Daryl had begun to teach you how to track on your own, which meant the two of you could cover more ground on the same hunt.

Your footsteps were steady and quiet, your eyes trained on the consistent tussle of the leaves. There was a specific herd of deer that had been on Daryl’s radar that he’d spotted a few mornings ago. Daryl walked a few feet behind you, checking that the tracks you eyed were accurate.

The leaves began to blend together, and the steady path you found was now lost from your sight. You kneeled down and dug the leaves away from the ground hoping the tracks would be embedded in the dirt. But the ground was too cold and dense to be marked with anything. It was when you turned to face Daryl and accept your defeat that he was no longer there.

A sense of panic seized through you. Your eyes scanned around the surrounding tree lines for a sign of his silhouette but you saw none. You’re fine, you told yourself, but the comfort Daryl’s presence provided was now gone and you were beginning to spiral. You didn’t know these woods well and you didn’t know your way back to the prison from here.

Out of sheer desperation, you brought your lips together and let out a two-tone whistle. You gave it a second of silence and just as you were about to repeat, a long one-tone whistle replied back. Daryl quickly came back through an opening in the trees looking as if he had run back to you. His eyes were filled with panic. “Ya alright?” You nodded, seeing him again immediately put you at ease. “M’sorry. Found the tracks, they go off this way.”

Daryl spent a lot of time studying you. It wasn’t intentional…but he couldn’t help but pay attention to every detail. He knew when something was on your mind by the way you dazed off more or the more cigarettes you smoked. Or the way you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirts and jackets. He understood the different expressions on your face and what every one of them meant. You expressed yourself a lot through your eyebrows and eyes. No matter what expression, your eyes were always filled with such sadness. You never smiled. Even on days when Daryl felt good and felt as if he was going to have some major breakthrough, you never did.

Daryl enjoyed what he’d built with you over these last few months but his mind and body were becoming restless. He yearned for you, he yearned to know you. It was like being covered head to toe in mosquito bites. And then someone tying your hands so you’d never be able to scratch them. He wanted to hear your voice and he wanted to see you smile. He told himself that if he ever got to hear you laugh, he’d start praying and going to the prison chapel.

He realized he’d never even seen your teeth before, though it was an odd thought, it would be added to the pile of things that itched and irritated.

Then there were the other thoughts. The bites that itched but also ached and throbbed. He wanted you to sit closer to him on the bike and he wanted your arms tight around his torso. He wanted to hold your hands and stop them from shaking in the morning. He wanted to keep you close after running away from a hoard.

Daryl had spent his time dissecting you like a frog in science class.

Now, he had grown impatient of dissecting. He’d never wanted anyone how desperately he wanted you. You were his sweet tooth craving, you were his stomach-decaying hunger, and you were his fucking mosquito bite. But despite all of Daryls itches and desires, he'd never try to change you. He'd never push you out of the comfort of your silence though he would always be waiting.

The time spent with Daryl had put a piece of you at ease. You’d had grown a special attachment while Daryl had practically sewn you to his hip. The only time you weren’t with him was when it came time to shower or sleep.

You met Daryl every morning at the gate, ready to go wandering amongst the trees or scavenging. Some day's you made it back in time to catch lunch together. Especially if you had an early morning catch and had to get back before the meat went rancid. Most days, you'd find a quiet and safe spot to eat the lunch Carol packed and made it back to the prison before sunset and dinner.

There was peace in this routine...but you couldn't live in this routine forever. There were other duties that needed attention around the prison. The early morning adventures had become less but the time together never changed.

When you weren't enjoying the company of Daryl, you enjoyed the company of the garden. And when it was too late in the day for either of those things, you read books about the garden and thought about Daryl. You learned what crops could be grown in the winter and then looked for their seeds in old gardening stores...with Daryl.

Some, Most, Every night you thought of him. You thought of all the things he'd taught you, of his patience with you, and all the stories he told to fill the air. He'd tell you stories of him and Merle. You wanted to tell him that you knew Merle. That when the Governor locked you away, Merle would come visit you and sneak you food. That he was kind to you despite being such a prick to everyone else.

But no matter how much time and peace Daryl provided, the nightmares never left you. You still woke up with shaky hands and a racing mind and memories of your brother. Although you did cut the habit of reaching for a cigarette. Mainly because your pack was running low and it was becoming impossible to find any more.

Unknowing to you, Daryl had been finding them while scavenging and hiding them in spots you didn't look.

You grabbed the carrot at its very base and pulled it from the soft dirt, a soft snap following. The gloves that kept your fingers from freezing were covered in mud and bits of green. It had rained in the night which made the ground perfectly soft to harvest produce. So, instead of going out this morning, you and Daryl were in the gardens. Well, Daryl followed you to the gardens and wouldn't leave.

"This one alright?" Daryl held up a cabbage with his own gloved hand only a few feet away. You glanced over and gave him a approving nod. He tossed it into the basket that already held a mixture of carrots, celery, and fresh herbs for Carol's cabbage soup.

Carol had become less of a bother to you. In fact, you'd actually created a swift routine with her. You read and researched the books about plants and gardening while she read the ones about cooking. You were the farmer while she got to play Martha Stewart.

"How's it going you two?" Rick and Carol approached the gardens with a little extra pep in their step. The rain fall had made this winter day chillier which meant everyone was bundling up and multiple fires were lit in the courtyard and cell blocks for warmth. "S'alright!" Daryl shouted as he fought with a carrot that seemed to be deep rooted in the ground. From your kneeling position on the ground, you watched Daryl with amusement as he struggled. You would’ve thought that carrot was as big as a egg plant with all his pull and tug.

“You got it Pookie?” Carol teased, Rick and her both getting their own dose of amusement. “M’fine.” With one last pull, the carrot popped from the dirt. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’” Daryl held up the carrot, it was about the size of his thumb. You heard Rick and Carol have their own set of laughter, “Maybe you should stick to huntin’ those deer.” Rick said between a few chuckles. Daryl scoffed and tossed the baby carrot into the basket, as he kneeled down to continue picking, he caught your expression.

It was so small he could’ve missed it but he didn’t and he was so glad he hadn’t. You looked back down towards the dirt, a smirk tugging up the corners of your lips and poking your cheeks, dimpling them. For a second, it felt as if someone had punched Daryl in the chest. But it was there just as fast as it was gone.

From that moment on, Daryl wanted nothing more than to feel that again…as did you. You felt foolish. There was this awful gnawing inside you that was telling you every day what you already knew within your heart. He was chipping away at every wall you’d built up and beginning to break down the wall to a very soft spot of you. You had begun to feel like a turtle removed from its shell. Mushy, sensitive, and vulnerable. Gross.

"Hey Y/n!" The youngest Greene girl greeted. The community of the prison had begun to warm up to you. They no longer avoided you like the plague opting to actually say "hello" or "good morning" or maybe even a "goodnight." It had become very well known the closeness Daryl and you held and if people knew, people talked.

You looked up from your current book to Beth standing in the doorway of your cell clutching a small pile of tan books to herself. "Can I..come in?" She awkwardly shuffled her feet farther in and adjusted the books, you nodded. Beth let the curtain that covered your doorway drop and happily took a seat on your bed. You sat up straight and set your book of, Wildflowers Of All Seasons, on the bed beside you. While you adjusted yourself, Beth seemed to be studying your room.

It was more decorated than she had imagined. Your cell was on the upper level, one down from Daryl's. You had a very small wooden nightstand beside your bed that had various half-melted candles. Their wax dripped down the sides and embedded itself into the wood. On the wall across from your bed stood a very slim wooden table.

It was decorated with different trinkets and bottles you'd scavenged, a zippo lighter, and a stack of your growing book collection. Shoved underneath was a wire basket that held all your clothes. Your only 2 pairs of boots and bookbag sat beside it. Your everyday black, fleece-lined jacket was hung off the pole of your bed.

"I found these in the library and thought you might like them." Beth laid out the books on your bed, making it a point to show you every single one of them. Peterson - Field Guide to... They all read. They were very small and slim, a pale shade of tan, with various illustrations on the front pertaining to the title. Perfect to slip into your bag.

"I thought they'd be nice for you to carry when you go out in the mornings." Beth watched as you examined each book, "I wanted to grab them for you before anyone else found 'em." Beth held a very innocent hopeful smile the whole time she spoke to you but your silence was causing her to become uneasy. You picked up a specific one, Field Guide to Animal Tracks. You looked up at the girl and gave her a thin-lipped smile to show your appreciation.

A wide smile formed on her face and she left with a very sweet "Goodnight."

Glenn relieved Daryl from watch tower duty later than expected. It had to of been close to midnight when he got back to his cell. As he walked by your cell, he carefully peeled back your green curtain to check on you. You were a restless sleeper, Daryl heard you almost every night tossing and turning or waking up with a jolt.

Most of your features were concealed by the darkness but from what was visible, you appeared to be in a peaceful sleep. There was a veil of softness to you when you slept. A softness and calmness that never graced you during waking hours. He knew it wouldn’t last very long but he wanted to ensure that at least right now, you were okay. But he could not stand and watch all night. He felt creepy enough.

Daryl noticed the little tan book sitting on his bed as soon as he pulled back his curtain. The moonlight slightly gleamed off the sleek shiny cover. Field Guide to Animal Tracks. As Daryl flipped the book open to its title page, he felt his ears and cheeks warm up. Thankfully the darkness concealed his cheeky smile.

To Daryl. Not like you need it. - Y/n.

The group of deer that Daryl had spotted a month ago was still high on his radar. Though he still had yet to actually catch any of them.

The cabbage soup was still hot in your thermal, emitting a cloud of steam when you popped off the lid. You and Daryl sat in each other's company in your typical spot. A large tree had fallen down just at the entrance to a clearing in the woods providing a perfect resting spot. Had it been Spring or Summer you could only imagine the beauty of the green scenery. But this cold winter didn't provide much besides dry grounds, barren trees, and a frozen pond.

There was a peaceful silence that settled, as it always did. You both ate your soups and turned the pages of your books. Surprisingly, Daryl had actually learned a good bit from the book you gifted and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Ask ya something'?" You broke your concentration from your book and looked to Daryl. "Ya know why I started coming out here in the first place, right?"

You took a second to think before hesitantly nodding. "Ya never said anything." Daryl truly never understood why. He never hid it from you but still, you never asked questions. You didn't ask what the notes were on all the maps he had, never asked where you were going, or when you'd be back. But he always knew that you knew he wasn't just hunting deer, he was hunting the governor. "What would ya do...? If you ever got to him?"

Perhaps Daryl had pushed too far. Your head snapped back down to your book, though Daryl knew you weren't actually reading anymore. Your eyes were out of focus and your lips formed a frown. You had never taken the time to think about it. You just knew you wanted him to suffer.

Daryl hadn't spoken another word to you since lunch knowing he had poked at a very sensitive subject. "Wait here a second," Daryl said just as you made it back to his bike. He jogged back into the tree line leaving you sitting on the bike, awaiting his return. Daryl returned soon after, a cluster of bright yellow daffodils in hand. You gave him a puzzled glance but as he held out his hand and said, for you, you felt the urgency to cry. Your nose burning up with tingles and your eyes becoming glazed.

"Thought ya might like 'em, I saw them in your book earlier." Your hand gently took them from Daryl's and you stood still. Very still.

Daryl awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "They're uh...daffodils, right? Start bloomin' late January into March?" He had secretly been sneaking reads of your books over your shoulder. It was so fast it startled him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you, every muscle in his body stiffened. Daryl was reluctant to hug you back but he gave into his heart and gently laid his arms around your torso. The large jackets you both wore proved to be a barrier from feeling the true touch of the other.

“Thank you.” Your words were raspy and just above a whisper. Had you not been so close, Daryl probably would’ve missed them. “Course.” His words were mumbled against your shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal. A low groan in the distance disrupted your short moment of peace, telling you it was about time to go.

The sun was beginning to set when Daryl’s bike rode up the gravel path to the prison. The smell of a brewing soup hit your nose as the two of you began to walk closer to the dining area. “Find a table, I gotcha.” Daryl’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a second longer than it typically did. Despite wearing such a thick layer of clothes, it was as if you could still feel his touch. Even after he was already at the serving table striking up a conversation with Carol.

You sat your pack down at the usual table. It was farthest to the left, farthest away from all the other tables. “Mind if we join you?” Glenn asked, he and Maggie both holding a steaming bowl. Just as you were about to take your own seat, a loud chuckle sounded snapping you around.

“Oh come on Y/n.” Two men had been walking past on their way to fetch their own dinners. You recognized them, they were commonly on wall duty at Woodbury. The taller one motioned to the flowers that poked out from the front pocket of your jacket. “You can’t be serious.” You could feel your heart drop to the very pit of your stomach. It was as if your body was preparing you for the merciless mocking that was sure to come.

“You’re telling me the Governor’s number one soldier is walking around with flowers in her pockets?”

Stop.

You wanted to say but the words became a ball in your throat. Your eyes darted off to the side. All of a sudden, you didn’t know where to look or what to do with your hands or how to stand properly on your feet. You knew the truth behind their “jokes”.

You are not soft. You are not delicate. You are not loveable.

“The hell are ya doin?” Daryl had practically appeared out of thin air, putting himself between you and the men. You saw this as an opportunity to make an escape for your cell block.

“We were just teasing man. We were friends in Woodbury, just joking around.” They still had slimy smirks on their faces that only poked Daryl even more.

Daryl was fuming. “Didn’t look like she was fucking laughin’.” He took a step closer. “She never fucking laughs!” Before Daryl could unleash his fiery rage, Rick intervened. Rick beckoned Daryl to walk away, mumbling that everyone was looking. “Hell if I care.” Daryl snapped swinging his arm in the air. He turned on his boot and snatched up your pack that you’d left behind before going off to find you.

Daryl hadn’t found you in any of your traditional spots. He checked your cell, the library, the garden, and even the showers. He asked everyone he walked past if they’d seen you but no one had, it was as if you just vanished. And the thought of that was throwing Daryl into a deep pit.

The prison chapel had been restored and decorated by Carol to be used for the grieving prison folk. She had put as many candles as possible on a long wooden table. They had been burned and replaced so frequently that the wax dripped down the sides of the table and dropped dots on the floor. There were many different pictures of lost family members or lovers littering the table…it was quite depressing truthfully. The glow of the candles lit up the room and cast an orange glow on your sad features.

You didn’t look at Daryl as he sat down beside you.

“Didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.”

It was an odd thing…to hear you speak so openly but Daryl wasn’t opposed. “I just…” Your voice was hoarse and low, as low as a whisper. “I find this a way to be with my brother.” Daryl had gotten so used to silence that it almost startled him to hear so many words come from your lips. You shook back the hair that fell on your face and let out a deep sigh, resting your back flat against the wooden church pew. Daryl didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to scare your voice away, he just wanted to listen.

“I hope that doesn’t sound foolish.”

“It doesn’t.” Daryl shifted himself closer to you. “It doesn’t.” He repeated, his thigh pressed against yours. And for some reason, you felt the need to spill your guts. Perhaps being in a church would drag you to confess. “I-uhmm…I never fought against the prison. I refused to do any of it. I truthfully didn’t care if he killed me for it.” You didn’t have to explain yourself to Daryl but you felt the need to. If what you felt towards him was what you thought, you had to. “But, he just locked me in my room. Wouldn’t let me out.” Somehow, Daryl knew. He never saw you with the Governor, never saw you fighting. And when Rick told him the locked room he found you in, he pieced it together.

“Everything is true though. Everything they say about me, everything he made me do before that.”

Daryl didn’t care, he never had. Daryl cared that you didn’t want to. He cared about the fact that you were forced to. You shrugged your shoulders and looked off, “I’m as guilty as they come.”

Daryl couldn’t stand the sad look on your face, “Alright then…put yer hands behind yer back. I’ll take ya to your cell.” His joking manner caught you so off guard that a laugh escaped you. It was airy and gentle. He truly couldn’t believe it.

You laughed. And Daryl was in church.

Daryl returned to his serious demeanor to reassure you, “I care about how he hurt ya, Y/n. Don’t care what you did.”

Your eyes found Daryl’s in the dimly lit room and for a second you felt it, deep within your chest. And it ached and feared but it also loved. “Good.” You couldn’t fight the smile that squeezed your cheeks as you looked at him. Your eye contact broke allowing silence to welcome itself back. But only for a short time. “Daffodils are the birth flower of March…Jackson and I were born in March.”

After that night in the chapel, Daryl wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. It felt like his ears were filled with honey every time you spoke. It was raspy yet smooth with a hint of a southern drawl from growing up in Georgia. A thick rich honey that he wanted in a cup of hot tea and to take down his throat.

Winter was soon turning to Spring. The sky was bluer and most days the sun shined. The green of the grass and trees were returning. The garden was beginning to look even more promising come warmer weather. And just as the flowers were beginning to take bloom, so were you.

Your hard demeanor had softened, especially for Daryl. You still didn’t talk to many people besides him but you said a word or two when you wanted. Daryl took it upon himself to give Jackson a “grave” where the others were. It was just two pieces of wood, formed into a cross with his name carved in it, planted into the ground. “So that ya don’t have to go down to the chapel. Ya can be outside with him and the garden and stuff.” He had said when he showed you.

“It’s rotten work trying to find these deer.” You and Daryl strolled the wooded area, eyes on the deer tracks that embedded themselves in the dirt. Daryl shushed you and continued his concentration on the tracks. You smiled to yourself and shook your head. “I was rotten work…at the beginning.”

“Nah ya weren’t, not to me.” Daryl didn’t even hesitate, he didn’t even turn look at you. He just continued walking ahead of you, following the tracks.

The two of you settled in your usual spot. Leaning against the fallen tree at the opening to the clearing in the woods. You were right about the clearing looking more beautiful in the warmth of Spring. The trees were plump with fresh green leaves and the water in the pond sparkled under the sunlight. The grass grew tall with a mixture of white and yellow wildflowers. Your fingers ran the edge of the book page as you turned it.

Your current book was, Field Guide to Medical Plants and Herbs. There was some type of cold floating around the prison and finding the medical supplies to treat it was sparse and you’d do anything you could to help.

Daryl was interrupted from tending to his bow by your elbow jabbing his side. Without looking at him, you held up a folded piece of paper and pen. Daryl gave you an odd glare before plucking them from your fingertips. You did this often. When you couldn’t be bothered to use your voice or if you didn’t want to break concentration from a book.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

Daryl could feel his heart begin to quicken its pace within his chest. He didn’t know what your words meant but at the same time, he did.

The folded paper got tossed back into your lap.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

Just then, a rustling sound sounded from within the trees from across the clearing. You gripped for your blade as Daryl grabbed for his bow. Two deers came through the trees, their white and tan tails flicking back and forth. You could’ve sworn you heard Daryl stop breathing for a second. Daryl slowly leaned up on his knees, bow in hand raising to his eye. Your eye caught it before Daryl’s did.

Another deer emerged from the trees, a fawn close behind her…and then another. “Don’t.” You brought your hand to Daryl’s bow and lowered it to point at the ground. He went to protest but when he saw the twin fawns happily nibbling at the tall grass, he stopped. It was a beautiful sight, as were you.

When your eyes broke away from the deers and to him, that’s when he decided. Daryl cupped your cheek lightly and met your lips with his. His lips were gone just as fast as they were there but his hand didn’t leave. He was still so close that your lips feathered his. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down to you again.

What happened that day was never spoken of. But as Daryl sat in the darkness of the train cart in Terminus, he so deeply wish it had been.

But now, you were gone as was the prison. The look on your face, when the Governor stood outside the prison, was burned into Daryl’s eyelids. The way your chest heaved with anger, your hands shook with rage, and revengeful teary eyes stared off. The last he saw was you slipping out through the prison fence to go after him. Daryl yelled at you to not do it, to come with him, but you didn’t listen. You’d let yourself die if it meant you finally got your hands on him and Daryl knew it.

You could be dead. You could’ve died weeks ago fighting the Governor. You could be out there alone and starving and scared. Or you could be just fine. Daryl would never know.

When Terminus fell and he watched Rick cuddle and kiss Judith in his arms, he had a surge of hope. And when he saw Carol alive, he had more hope. As everyone said hello, it was as if he waited, waiting for you to magically appear. “Nobody has Y/n?” A deafening silence followed, quieter than you ever were. “Daryl…” Michonne stepped towards him. As he went to walk away, she stopped him placing a hand on rising his chest. “Darlyl. I’m not saying she didn’t make it. I’m just saying she didn’t look good.”

“Yeah? And you didn’t help her?” Daryl snapped shoving her hand off his chest. “Get off me.” Daryl seethed with hot tears in his icy blue eyes. It became an unspoken rule to not speak your name around him.

Your hand pressed firmly on the wound that oozed blood down your side as you limped your way into the cell block. Your right side was stained in the crimson color, all the way down to the knee of your jeans. You strained and let out a groan of pain as you took a step up the stairs that led to your cell. You didn’t need to look at yourself to know you looked awful. The walkers that completely ignored your existence when you limped by them told you enough.

Your entire torso throbbed in pain. The bruising from the kicks you took to the stomach were forming and it felt impossible to move. Your head felt like tv static and you had an undying desire to sleep. But you couldn’t. You likely had a concussion and knew that if you slept now, you wouldn’t be getting back up. Besides, you had to find Daryl. There was a hope that he’d stayed in the area and you’d find him if you just looked. You knew the woods around here well, you could find him. He was waiting for you, he had to be.

In your fuzzy state of mind, you threw whatever you touched into your pack. You changed out of ruined clothes and into clean ones. When the collar of your shirt dragged down your face, you let out a whimper of pain as it got caught on your bottom lip. There was a cut that dragged from the under your left nostril, across the left corner of your lips, and ended at the bottom of your chin.

It became a blur how you left your cell safely and ended up on the path Daryl and you walked every morning. You had to get to your spot. The spot with the fallen tree and clearing. Daryl would wait for you there. You were sure of it. When you got there and he wasn’t there, it was okay, you told yourself. You just had to wait for him.

You lowered yourself to the ground, a few whimpers of pain escaping your lips. With your back resting against the tree and arm draped over your mid section, you slipped into unconscious. You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. “Hey, hey.” He said trying to wake you but your eyelids were too heavy to lift and you felt the weight of every muscle in your body. “Heath! Go tell Laura to bring the car around. We gotta take her back.”

“It’s a ten hour drive back Aaron, you think she’s gonna make it?”

“I don’t know.”

You awoke with a slight jolt. Your chest heaved with heavy breathes as your eyes dilated to the bright and unfamiliar room. Your body ached but the softness of the mattress you laid on seemed to comfort it. “Pete, go get Deanna.” Aaron instructed, sitting up in his seat next to your bedside. Your eyes wandered the room, trying to figure out where you were. “Hey. I’m Aaron. You’re in the infirmary in a community called Alexandria.” You looked to the man that sat to your right. He had a very kind face and gentle eyes. His clothes were perfectly clean and his curly brown hair was freshly washed and fluffy.

“Myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast to look for survivors to bring here.” Aaron clarified further, “We found you and brought you back, you were in really bad shape…you still…you still kind of are.”

Aaron could see the confusion and panic drawn on your face. Your head snapped to the door when you heard footsteps on the polished wood floors. “Hi” Deanna gently said approaching your bedside. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. What’s your name?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, your mind still wasn’t clear, and you had no clear memory of the last three days. “Y/n” You finally replied, voice hoarse and raspy. Deanna smiled at you, “Where am I?” You asked finally finding your voice. Deanna and Aaron exchanged a glance, “You’re in a safe community called Alexandria in Virginia.”

Virginia?

You could feel your world begin to tumble, a thousand thoughts racing your mind. You were so far away from Georgia. You were away from home. Away from Daryl. “No.” You attempted to pull yourself out of the bed but were stopped by Aaron softly holding you back. “No, no, no.” You repeated and dropped your head down into your hands as panicked sobs racked your chest. “Pete! Go get her something to calm down.”

You didn’t want pills to help calm down. You wanted to go home. You wanted to be with him. You sat yourself up in the bed despite the pain in your torso telling you not to. “Daryl?” You asked Deanna. She could see the desperation in your teary eyes, “I’m sorry we only found you.”

Aaron sat up from the dirt floor of the barn after Rick had knocked him unconscious. Rick’s group continuously went back and forth with one another debating their plan. Once they finally decided and everyone was being assigned a position, Rick turned to Daryl. “Daryl, go keep an eye-“

“Wait, Daryl?” Aaron interrupted Rick’s order from his spot on the floor. He felt everyone’s eyes on him in an instant. “Daryl Dixon, right? Y-you knew an Y/n?” Daryl stomped over to Aaron and gripped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. “How the hell ya know Y/n?” Daryl’s tone was threatening yet shaky. Aaron knew if he didn’t start talking he’d end up back on the floor.

“She’s in Alexandria, she lives with me, she’s safe! A-a little over a month ago, myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast looking for survivors. We found her in the woods down in Georgia.” Aaron took a pause, “She was in really bad shape, we brought her back and she’s been there ever since.”

“She talks about you all the time.” Daryl’s hand shook around the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his eyes studied his face trying to find any indicator that he was lying. ”I don’t fuckin’ believe ya.” The thought of you being alive and safe comforted Daryl but he wouldn’t so easily believe a stranger. “I’m not lying, I swear.” Aaron frantically said, “She-she gave me something to give to you. It’s in the front pocket of my bag.”

Daryl shoved Aaron back to the ground with a thud. Rick tossed Aaron’s bag to Daryl, practically tearing off the zipper getting into it. Daryl’s unsteady hands pulled out the familiar small tan book. As he flipped open to the title page, he read the words you’d written to another that day.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

As Daryl read the new words you’d written, he could feel the lump forming in his throat.

It was easier to die than to say them.

“I probably should’ve led with that, huh?” Aaron joked attempting to lighten the mood. Rick’s gruff voice responded, “Shut up.”

The sun shined in Alexandria despite the rainstorm that came through the night before. You found yourself where you always were, in the gardens. The heavy rain had bent many of the plants out of shape and the raised wooden garden beds were flooded. The mixture of water and grass squelched under your boots as you examined the damage. With a deep sigh, you pulled out a box of cigarettes from your back pocket along with a zippo lighter. It wasn’t a habit you proudly picked back up. But after the fall of the prison and Daryl no longer being there to help you, it found its way back.

You tilted your head up to the sky and blew the smoke from your lips. You closed your eyes and let the sunlight cast its rays onto your face. And as you did, you tried to imagine that you were standing in the garden of the prison again. That Daryl stood only a few feet away, fighting with a vegetable, and cursing as he did.

“Hey Y/n.”

Spencer disrupted your daydream, standing a few feet away and calling out your name. “Sorry,” He jokingly held up his hands in surrender, “Aaron’s back, he asked for you at the gate.” Aaron had returned to Alexandria several times over the past month with new faces. Every time you’d go to the gate and wait for him to return, your heart full of hope. But every time the same disappointment rained down on you. It was never who you wanted, it was never him. So, when Aaron told you about a group he’d been tracking and trying to bring back, you didn’t care to listen. You saved my ass and now you think you can save everyone? You said to him a few nights ago.

“Going.” You replied bluntly. You wouldn’t allow your hopes to grow just to be smashed into pieces. Your eyes were on the ground as you walked to the front gate, cigarette dangling from your lips, and hair falling in your face. Spencer talked his jaw off beside you, every word he spoke going in one ear and out the other. But the sound of a familiar whistle vibrating against your eardrums perked your head up in an instant.

You tossed your cigarette from your mouth and found your way back to him. Daryl met you halfway, his arms desperately pulling you in close. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, feeling his shaky breaths on the skin of your own. Your hair was soft and smelled of shampoo. Daryl grasped the fabric of your shirt that smelled ever so slightly of cigarettes.

When Daryl pulled away to look at you, he finally saw the fresh scar drawn on your lips. He wanted to scold you. To tell you how foolish you'd been to go after the Governor alone. "Ya got him?" Was all he could bring himself to ask. You avoided answering but you nodded, "Come on, I wanna go see everyone else."

Despite the group still not fully trusting Alexandria, they felt more at ease knowing you’d been kept safe here. After helping Rick settle the group into the Alexandrian homes, you sat on the front porch with Daryl. Daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight for a second. Everything you did and every where you went, he was there. Besides when Carol shoved him away to shower.

The two of you passed back and forth a lit cigarette, comfortable in the silence of the night air. “Tara asked me about the Governor.” Your words were quiet just incase anyone were listening. Daryl looked to you. “Yeah?” With a deep sigh, you blew the smoke from your mouth. “Yeah…asked what he did to me.”

Daryl could see the way the thought of it dragged your lips into that familiar frown. “Told her I didn’t wanna make her guilty conscious even worse.” You said it as if it was meant to be a joke but Daryl saw through it. “It’s gettin late.” Daryl begin to break you from those thoughts. He was right. The sun had set about an hour ago and everyone was setting up their beds for the night.

“Ya ah….Ya gonna go home?” Daryl didn’t want you to leave, he never wanted to be without you again. “I am home.” There was no hesitation in your reply. Daryl’s eyes snapped to yours in an instant. “Ain’t what I meant.” You stood from your spot and reached a hand out to him, “Come with me.” Daryl glanced between your hand and your eyes. The night was dark and the porch light dim but you could see the rosy color blotch at his cheeks. You lightly kicked his foot with your own, “Just wanna show you where I’ve been staying.”

Your room was in the fully furnished basement of Aaron and Eric’s home. Aaron had welcomed you in, knowing you couldn’t be on your own in your condition. The stairs were on the farthest right wall of the basement, leading you down into a lounge like area with tan carpet and white walls. An L shaped leather couch sat in front of a, now useless, flat screen TV. Past the couch, on the back wall, stood two white doors. Daryl presumed behind one of them laid your bedroom.

You walked him over to the left door and pushed it open. There was nothing special about your room. Simply a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a bookshelf in the corner. You sat at the foot of your bed, Daryl took it as a sign to do the same. “I’m sorry Daryl.” Your voice was just above a whisper, avoiding his eyes when you spoke. “I should’ve looked harder for him…I shouldn’t of gotten so distracted.” Your head hung low in shame, “I should’ve talked about that day..in the woods.” The dimly lit room hid the tears that fell from your eyes. “I should’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“We should’ve.” Daryl corrected you, stopping all your blabbering. Your watery eyes met his with a look of confusion. “Everythin’ ya said. I was there too. S’not all your fault Y/n.” The impact of Daryl’s words made you go quiet. “Ain’t yer fault what he did to you either.”

“I love you.”

Daryl had never shut his mouth so fast in his life. You weren’t sure where your outburst of confidence came from but you didn’t regret it. You accepted it every waking day and every sleepless night you were apart from him. “Nah, ya don’t.” Daryl rejects your confession at the grace of his own insecurity. Your hands raise themselves to his face, a stern look gracing your features. “I have since the prison.”

Daryl didn’t know what to do. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and the warmth from your hand on his cheek. You gently lean in before connecting your lips with his. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his own. If you had just ruined everything Daryl and you had, you at least wanted to bask in his presence one last time. “I love ya too.” Daryl leaned back in, capturing your lips in his.

The night you’d spent together was full of gentle touches and whispers. The only time silence happened was the sleep bestowed upon you afterwards. Your bedroom was dimly lit come morning time. The only windows in your room were up towards the ceiling, just above ground level. For the first time since Jackson died, you woke up peacefully. No panic attack awaiting you, no need to run away and fill your lungs with smoke. Feelings of the night before returned to your mind, memories in vivid detail. Daryl awoke when he felt the movement of the sheet from beside him.

With your back turned to him, Daryl took it upon himself to graze the skin of your bare back with his fingertips. He caught a glance at the deep scarring along your side. The gash had turned into a raised, dark pink, bruised color on your skin. Daryl could see shadow of lines covering its length from the stitches that had held it together.

As his fingertips traveled down, they stopped on another scar. The left side of your lower back was imbedded with the letter “G”. The scarring of the initial raised your skin, though it wasn’t pink and bruised like the other. It had healed to a shade paler than your skin tone. Daryl simply couldn’t believe it. Fucking bastard.

“Branding iron.” You begin, voice slightly rasp from sleep. “Never did it to anyone else…just me.” Daryl’s hand fell from your back, “Come here.” You reluctantly did so, turning to face him. His hand found the side of your face that didn’t rest on the plush pillow. His facial expression’s became serious but his eyes remained gentle. “Ain’t gonna let no one treat you like that ever again. Ya feel like someone breathes around ya the wrong way, you tell me alright?” You playfully rolled your eyes, a cheeky smile forming but you still replied “Alright.”

Daryl thumb drug along your bottom lip, stopping at the pale scar. “Promise ya won’t ever stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“…Bein’ happy.”

–––––––––––

A/n: I've proof read this over and over so I hope everyone is able to enjoy it and theres no mistakes! If anyone would like to submit a request, feel free too. If it's a project i'd be willing to take on, I will try my best to get to it.

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asumi2020202 · 4 months ago

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Midnight Battle

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

Summary: The Kingdom was at peace when a small battle began inside the Red Keep. But.. it was not a normal battle.

Warning: Incest(they are Targaryens, what do you expect?).

A/n: I've been gone for almost 2 weeks. But now I'm back. Hope you all enjoy this. Thank you for reading!

Note: Change in storyline, The Blacks won.

_____________________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ____

Night had fallen over King's Landing. The Dance of the Dragon was over. The blacks won. Rhaenyra ascended on the Iron Throne.

The only greens who were alive were your elder sister Helaena, your mother Alicent and niece Jaehaera. Alicent had asked for protection to Rhaenyra for her, her eldest daughter and granddaughter after the death of Rhaenys.

Jacaerys and you had been married before the war. The two of you had two little boys who had their dragons.

You woke up slowly. It was still night. Jacaerys had his hand wrapped around your waist tightly. You took a moment to admire his sleeping face.

You slowly got out of his grasp, reaching for a glass to pour yourself some water to drink. As you were drinking, you heard some whispering in the corridor.

Placing your glass on the bedside table, you slowly went towards the door. You saw two little figures going in the direction of the kitchen.

You slowly closed the door behind to not wake Jacaerys and followed the little figures.

_________________________________________

"No, Aenor. The book says to add sugar next not lemon." Said the oldest, Daenor.

"At this rate we wont be able finish this cake before mother wakes up." The younger, Aenor said, almost at the verge of tears.

"Don't worry little brother, we can do this as long as we follow the book properly." Daenor said, rubbing Aenor's back and reassuring him.

"Ehem.. may I ask what my little princes are doing in the kitchen at this hour?" You came out from behind the kitchen door and asked.

Both princes were startled, clearly not expecting their mother to catch them.

"I- we- mother... Hah... We were baking a cake for you.." Dearon said accepting defeat.

"What for?" You inquired.

"To show our gratitude...." Aenor replied. Both prince had their head low in defeat and disappointment.

Seeing their defeated look your motherly emotions overflowed.

"Well.. why don't we do it together? You both were clearly struggling. I can teach you.." you offered.

As soon as the words left you mouth both of them ran to you legs and started to pull you towards the counters.

_________________________________________

Jacaerys woke up at the lack of warmth beside him. He reached beside him but his eyes opened when he couldn't find his wife.

He got up from bed and got out of the room, searching for his wife.

_________________________________________

Aenor and Dearon were beating eggs and butter together while you were pouring flour in a bowl. All three of yours back was facing the door.

Suddenly... You felt a hand coming to your waist. Startled, you gasped and turned around. The bowl of flour in your hand dumped all the flour over the person.

The children looked back to see what happened.

When you looked, it was your husband. He coughed out flour and blinked his eyes. He tried dusting off the flour on him when an idea came to his mind. His eyes went towards the bag of flour, he was still holding on to you.

He reached for it and took a handful and looked at you. Your eyes could describe only one thing. Fear.

"No- no no... Love it was unintentionally done. Spare me!" You spoke, trying to get away from him. But he was stronger than you.

His hand full of flour met with your head. The children had wide eyes at their parents' behaviour, both staring with an 'o' shaped mouth.

Your face and head was covered with flour. After wiping some from your face, you kept your head low. Jacaerys thought for a second that you were sad but when he reached for you

"My lov-" his sentence got interrupted when you looked at him.

"it's a battle now. My loves.... How about we play a game of tag?" Jacaerys' eyes went wide at the realisation.

The children wasted no minute. They knew when their mother teamed up with them against their father. Each took a handful of flour and climbed down from the chairs.

Jacaerys looked at you in fear but you only smirked. Within the next second, he was running around the kitchen while the kids ran after him with flour.

He took his chance to throw some at you as well which made you join in.

The entire royal kitchen was messed up. Flour and eggs everywhere.

_________________________________________

Rhaenyra was walking towards the servants who seemed to be cooing and talking about something being adorable.

She reached the kitchen and saw servants gathered up, all bowing at the presence of the queen.

When she looked, she could see Alicent and went to stand beside her.

"What has happened here?" Rhaenyra questioned.

Alicent simply motioned her to looked in front. When Rhaenyra looked, what she saw made her giggle.

There laid the Heir to the Iron Throne and his wife cuddle up while being covered in flour and eggs. And their children, who were also covered in such, laid a few inches away from them, coddled up with each other.

"It seems as if a battle happened here..." Rhaenyra spoke to Alicent, referring to the scene in front. To which Alicent replied

"A Midnight Battle at that..."

#house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #got #x reader #x yn #fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x yn #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x y/n

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rmadridcore · 7 days ago

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Cabin Moments

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Summary: After a hilarious cookie mishap, you and Jude escape the cold and find yourselves melting into each other in a cabin warmed by love and a crackling fire.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s note: I’ve been wanting to write something Christmas themed and I decided to combine it with one of my requests ✨ Hope you’ll love it, happy holidays everyone 🤍🤍🤍

Jude had approached baking with the same confidence he brought to the pitch, but the batter currently clinging to the ceiling suggested otherwise. It was a few days before Christmas, and after ending the year with a win, Jude had whisked you away on the snowy getaway you’d both been looking forward to for weeks. Nestled in a cozy, picturesque cabin surrounded by a blanket of thick, crisp snow, the two of you had every intention of soaking up this peaceful time together before heading to England to celebrate the holidays with his family.

After a playful afternoon of snowball fights and building lopsided snowmen, you’d returned to the cabin, cheeks pink from the cold and laughter. That’s when Jude had insisted on baking cookies for you — a gesture he’d framed as a “thank you” for always taking care of him during his grueling season. You’d tried, and failed, to talk him out of it, knowing all too well that Jude’s cooking was less “Michelin star” and more “hazardous experiment.”

“Babe, why is there flour on your forehead?” you asked, squinting at him from your perch at the kitchen counter. Your chin rested in your palm as you watched his questionable culinary process unfold.

“Because the bag exploded on its own,” he replied, his tone completely serious as he stirred a bowl of unidentifiable liquid that was supposed to be cookie dough.

“Uh-huh,” you said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “And I’m guessing the whisk didn’t magically fling batter onto the ceiling either?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Okay, that one might’ve been me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. It was impossible to stay annoyed when he looked so determined, even if his methods were… unconventional. He whisked the mixture with such vigor you half-expected the bowl to launch itself off the counter. Butter, eggs, sugar, flour, vanilla, and a pinch of salt were haphazardly combined in a way that made you want to intervene at least ten times. The butter wasn’t properly melted, the flour was clearly insufficient, and his measurements were more guesswork than precision — but he was so resolute in doing this himself that you decided to let him be.

And prayed the cookies wouldn’t kill you.

As Jude began shaping the dough, his brows furrowed in concentration. He rolled an oddly lumpy blob in his hands, inspecting it as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Do cookies need to be round, or is that just a societal norm?” he asked, holding up the blob for your opinion.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter, doubling over as the absurdity of the question sank in. “No, Jude, they don’t need to be round,” you teased. “But it helps. Want me to take over?”

Tempted as he was by your offer, Jude stood firm. “No, thank you. I’ve got this.” His voice was confident, even as his hands struggled to mold the dough into something remotely spherical.

After what felt like an eternity, Jude triumphantly placed six misshapen dough balls onto a tray and slid them into the oven. Turning back to survey the kitchen, his eyes widened in disbelief. The once-pristine space now looked like a war zone — flour dusted every surface, utensils were strewn everywhere, and a suspicious trail of chocolate chips led to the corner of the counter.

He caught your knowing look and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe I’ll let you help with the cleanup,” he admitted sheepishly.

You grinned, grabbing a dishcloth. “I thought you’d never ask.”

As the cookies baked, the two of you worked side by side to restore some semblance of order to the kitchen, exchanging teasing remarks and stifling laughter at the chaos Jude had created. The air was filled with the warm, sweet scent of vanilla and butter, but also the undeniable warmth of shared joy and affection.

A soft ding from Jude’s phone broke the quiet, signaling that his cookies were ready.

“They’re done!” he shouted, darting to the oven with the kind of excitement you’d expect from a five year old on Christmas morning. You stifled a laugh, watching him as he carefully pulled the tray out, his expression radiating pride.

His enthusiasm was endearing, until you remembered the last time he’d insisted on cooking. You prepared yourself for what was likely going to be an unforgettable culinary experience.

The cookies cooled for a few minutes, and then you both grabbed one, each taking a tentative bite. It only took a second for reality to hit. The moment your teeth met the cookie, it felt as though your entire dental health history flashed before your eyes.

“Jude, what is this?!” you exclaimed, your jaw protesting from the sheer effort it took to chew.

Beside you, Jude was in the same boat, though he valiantly tried to act like it wasn’t a disaster. He set his cookie down slowly, as if to avoid offending it. “They’re just… crunchy,” he said, forcing nonchalance.

“They’re not crunchy, Jude. I think I just tested the limits of my dental insurance policy,” you replied, gingerly placing the cookie back on the plate and vowing never to attempt another bite.

Jude’s face fell, a cute pout forming as he stared at the offending baked goods. He looked so disappointed it tugged at your heart. Bless him, he had just wanted to make something special for you.

“It’s okay, my love,” you said, softening your tone as you approached him. You cupped his face gently and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. “I’m still so proud of you. You’ll do better next time.”

Your reassurance brought a small smile back to his face. He hugged you tightly, his chin resting atop your head as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“You probably won’t,” you whispered teasingly, unable to resist.

“Hey!” he protested, pulling back with an offended look that made you laugh.

“I’m kidding,” you said, pecking the tip of his nose. “How about you go light the fireplace, and I’ll make us some hot chocolate? Deal?”

“Deal,” he replied, clearly agreeing that cooking should forever remain your domain.

You set to work preparing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, using the adorable Christmas-themed mugs Jude’s mom had gifted the two of you just a few days ago. With the rich scent of chocolate filling the air, you carried the mugs into the living room.

Jude was already sprawled on the couch, the fireplace crackling and casting a warm, flickering glow around the room. The cabin was utterly serene, the kind of cozy that made you want to live in this moment forever.

You handed him his mug before curling up beside him, his free arm naturally draping over your shoulders.

For a while, the two of you sipped your drinks in peaceful silence, the warmth of the fire wrapping around you like a soft blanket. It was a much-needed pause, a rare moment of tranquility amid the chaos of your lives.

“I wish I could freeze time,” Jude murmured, his voice breaking the quiet as he rested his head against yours. “Just stay like this forever.”

“What would we even do all day?” you teased, humming contentedly as the sweet, creamy liquid soothed your throat.

“This,” he replied simply, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your arm. “And maybe… I’d hold you a little closer.”

His words made your heart swell. You turned to look at him, your eyes brimming with affection. The way the firelight danced across his features left you breathless. He was stunning, and in this light, his expression so relaxed, so full of love, he somehow seemed even more beautiful.

“You look so different like this,” you whispered, your fingers grazing his jaw in a tender caress.

“Different?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Softer,” you said, smiling as your hand lingered on his cheek.

“Softer, huh?” he teased, his lips quirking into a grin. “That’s a first.”

“Not your muscles, silly,” you replied, rolling your eyes playfully. “Your eyes. They’re glowing. Like you’re thinking about something.”

He gazed deeply into your eyes, his demeanor calm and tender. “Just thinking how lucky I am to have you,” he said softly, his words making your heart flutter, as they always did.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against his, gifting him a short but heartfelt kiss that carried every ounce of your affection.

Turning your head, you let your eyes settle on the fire burning in the hearth, its soft glow casting a magical warmth over the room. “There’s something about this moment,” you murmured, “something magical, isn’t there?”

Jude brushed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a moment as his arms tightened around you. “You’re the magic,” he whispered against your skin. “The rest is just the setting.”

Your gaze flicked back to him, your chest swelling with love as a warm, fuzzy feeling settled deep within you. He reached for your mug, setting it alongside his on the coffee table.

“I don’t want anything between us, not even hot chocolate,” he explained when you gave him a curious look.

Before you could respond, he pulled you into his embrace, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and brimming with emotion. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, and you granted him entry, allowing him to explore your mouth with delicate care. His hands traced slow, soothing patterns along your back as he lowered you onto the couch, his body hovering over yours, never breaking the kiss.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, nails grazing softly along his skin, sending visible shivers through him. He moaned quietly into your mouth, the sound igniting a fire in your belly.

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his lips trailing a path to your neck where he began leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. His warm breath sent tingles coursing through you, your skin heating beneath his touch. “I love you more than anything.”

“Jude,” you sighed his name, your voice a soft groan of pleasure. “I love you too.”

He hooked one of your legs over his hip, his lips continuing their worshipful journey along your neck and collarbone. Jude’s hands worked quickly, pulling his top off in one swift motion before reaching for your sweater, lifting it over your head. You unclasped your bra and tossed it aside, your bare skin now exposed to his hungry gaze.

He cupped one of your breasts, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin while his mouth captured the peak of your other breast. His lips and tongue teased your nipple with a mix of tenderness and desire, leaving you breathless as soft moans slipped from your lips.

“Jude,” you moaned again, the sound spurring him on.

Hearing you say his name like that was his greatest reward — a confirmation that he was making you feel good. It fueled him, his own pleasure second to the joy of knowing he was satisfying you.

Within moments, the rest of your clothes were discarded, leaving you naked beneath him. The firelight danced across your skin, painting you in a soft, golden glow that took Jude’s breath away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. “I’m obsessed with you.”

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers exploring your wet folds with slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You were already ready for him, Jude had that effect on you. Just his touch, his words, even the way he looked at you could leave you completely undone.

You whimpered softly as his fingers left you, watching as he stroked himself a few times before positioning himself at your entrance. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he began to push into you slowly.

A deep groan escaped your lips as he filled you, stretching you perfectly in a way that was both intense and utterly satisfying. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging slightly into his skin as you adjusted to his size.

When you tilted your hips upward, your body signaling your readiness, he began to move, his thrusts slow and purposeful as he lost himself in you.

A soft, almost inaudible sigh escapes your lips as Jude begins to move, his hips rocking slowly, savoring every second. There’s no rush — neither of you are in a hurry. For the first time in what feels like forever, you both have all the time in the world to explore each other’s bodies, to bask in the tenderness and love that envelopes the moment.

His rhythm is steady and purposeful, his thrusts full of affection. Each movement feels like a silent declaration of how much he loves you.

Jude lifts his head to meet your gaze, his dark eyes melting into yours, filled with devotion and longing. Your fingers curl into the back of his head, your breaths mingling as your hearts beat in perfect synchrony.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” he whispers, his voice soft yet full of intensity, as if the words themselves carry the weight of his entire heart. His hand gently brushes strands of hair away from your face, revealing every detail of your expression.

Your eyes hold all the emotion that words could never fully express. If others wear their hearts on their sleeves, you and Jude carry yours in your eyes, transparent and undeniable.

He moves gently within you, every thrust igniting a fire in your core, sending pleasure rippling through your body. His lips find yours, warm and inviting, and his tongue slips past your parted lips to deepen the kiss. Slowly, he trails his kisses along your jawline, then down to your neck, his mouth hot against your skin.

Soft moans spill from your lips as his pace quickens, each movement perfectly calculated to bring you closer to the edge. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper as your hands explore the expanse of his back. He groans softly against your neck, the sound vibrating through you and making your skin tingle.

“You feel so good,” Jude murmurs, his voice thick with adoration. “So perfect.”

His large hand moves to cup your breast, his fingers teasing the hardened peak with a gentle pinch. He presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder, his lips lingering on your heated skin.

“Jude, you make me feel so good,” you say breathlessly, tilting your head back to give him more access. Your words spur him on, his lips trailing even lower, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

Hearing you say those words is everything to Jude. It fuels him, his desire to make you happy, to make you feel cherished, surging through him like a tidal wave. He pauses, his lips leaving your skin to gaze into your eyes once more.

“Y/N, you’re my everything,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. His eyes lock with yours, and you see the love radiating from them. It’s overwhelming, almost too much to bear, yet you welcome it, reveling in the intensity of his feelings for you.

Even without his words, you can feel it. His every touch, every glance, every moment you’ve shared has shown you how much he adores you. But hearing him say it, especially now, sends warmth flooding through your chest.

He captures your hand in his, bringing it above your head, intertwining your fingers tightly. His thrusts remain slow and deliberate, his body perfectly aligned with yours as he leans closer, his forehead resting against yours.

“You’re mine, right?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

The question feels so silly to you, but you know Jude well enough to understand the quiet need for reassurance beneath it. Even though he knows your heart belongs to him, hearing you say it, especially in a moment this intimate, brings him a joy he can’t describe.

You smile, your free hand gently cupping his face as you whisper, “Of course, my love. I’m yours. Forever.”

The words ignite something within him. His thrusts pick up slightly, enough to send waves of pleasure cascading through your body, inching you closer to the edge. Your soft cries of pleasure echo in his ears, and he knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be — wrapped in your arms, lost in the love you share.

Jude gazed down at you, his breaths heavy and labored but his heart fuller than ever. To him, you felt like a dream, a tangible piece of heaven he could hold, yet somehow still untouchably divine. There was an ethereal connection between the two of you, unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

The moment he had you in his life, he knew there was no going back. How could he? You made him feel like he was perpetually on cloud nine. You were the light that brightened even the most ordinary days, a warmth that banished every shadow.

As his pace quickened, your fingers squeezed his tightly. He responded by leaning down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deep, fervent, and all-consuming. It wasn’t just a kiss — it was a declaration, a pouring out of emotions from the deepest corners of both your hearts.

To Jude, it felt as though he were floating on warm water, his entire being weightless and suspended in bliss. His heart swelled, threatening to burst from how much he loved you.

“I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with sincerity.

And he truly felt like the luckiest man alive. You loved him without reservation, understood him like no one else ever had, and supported him in ways that made him feel invincible. He never thought his life had been lacking before he met you, but now, he understood — nothing could ever compare to the completeness he felt with you by his side.

His thrusts quickened slightly, urgency mingling with tenderness as both of you approached your highs. Your intertwined hands tightened simultaneously, the shared gesture grounding you both in the moment.

Your lips remained locked as the peak hit, his warm release filling you just as your orgasm surged through you, sending tremors down your spine. Your walls clenched around him, eliciting a low, guttural groan from deep in his chest that you swallowed with your own cries of pleasure.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your labored breaths mingling with the soft crackle of the fire. Jude slumped against you, his weight resting on you in a way that felt grounding and secure. He was careful not to crush you, but he also didn’t want to break the closeness of the moment.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his head, gently caressing his slightly damp hair. The soothing motion sent shivers down his spine yet again, a sensation that never seemed to grow old no matter how often you touched him.

The cabin was silent, save for the occasional pop of the firewood. Outside, the snow was falling heavily, blanketing the world in stillness and cold. But inside, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, you felt untouched by the chill.

Jude rested his head on your chest, pressing lazy, loving kisses along your collarbone as he listened to your heartbeat — steady, soothing, and his favorite sound in the world. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, the crackling fire and the scent of pine only adding to the magic of the moment.

Though it felt like perfection, both of you knew this was just the beginning. With Christmas just around the corner, the love and passion you shared promised even more magic ahead. And as the snow continued to fall outside, you lay there together, hearts full, basking in a warmth that no fire could ever rival.

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entitled-fangirl · 6 months ago

Text

The middle of war. (P2)

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: The reader is in recovery, and the two must manage life after the incident.

A/n: the High Valyrian is bad. Just... don't look at it

Part 1!

Masterlist

.....................................................................

Her recovery was long and painful, but she managed all the same.

A few days in, Aemond had swore to take her to see Vhagar.

The poor girl looked like a mess.

Due to her injury, she was unable to wear the tight corsets she was expected to, not that Aemond cared what she wore.

Hence why she was in a rather flowy dress that practically hung from her.

He kept a hand on her at all times as they walked through the castle, not only to keep her balanced, but worried she could be taken again if he looked away.

His anxiety didn't relax until they were with Vhagar.

Y/n pulled herself away from Aemond and straight to Vhagar, so comfortable with the large beast that she held no fear for her.

Vhagar's eyes focused on her, resting her head in the dirt to let the woman come near.

She reached forward, hearing the dragon immediately purr with her touch.

Aemond couldn't help the slightly amused smirk that came to his lips. Gods, she was a wonder.

She gently cooed to the dragon as if it was a small puppy, "Pretty girl. I haven't seen you in days. It seems a lifetime."

"You spoil her," Aemond spoke up.

She turned to him, "She deserves it."

He sighed and neared Vhagar, running his hands over one of her scales as well, "She is not mistreated, I assure you."

"You do owe her an apology," she pointed out.

A low rumble comes from the dragon.

Aemond grumbled and shook his head, "Shijetra issa (Forgive me)."

"That's not good enough," she said as she moved her entire body to lean on the dragon's cheek. "You have to mean it. You were so rude."

"I was saving your life!" He reasoned.

"I do not care-"

"Do not say that." He growled suddenly.

She sighed, "I did not mean it that way. Ziry daoriot gūrogon naejot sagon yelled rȳ (She doesn't deserve to be yelled at)."

Aemond looked up at the saddle. A shudder goes through him when he sees her blood still stain the fabric. "She understands I am not angry with her."

"Does she?"

He huffed, forcing himself to take a deep breath, "Shijetra issa syt issa udra (Forgive me for my words)."

Y/n began to get distracted, her hands running down the large dragon as she began to move.

He watched her cautiously as if ready to catch her at any moment.

"You're lucky, you know," she finally said.

His eye softened, "I know."

She turned to him, "I mean it. I… I would have done anything for a dragon. Especially a gentle giant like her."

Aemond felt his chest tighten.

Her egg had never hatched.

"Gevie tala (beautiful girl)," she muttered to Vhagar. Her hands reached out occasionally to fix a scale.

Vhagar purred under all the attention.

"Kiz. Gevie (Yes, beautiful)." Aemond said as he looked at her.

…

"Brother?" Aemond asked as he stood from his chair in the library.

Y/n turned to see Aegon standing in the doorway.

He grinned, "Hello, brother." He quickly rounded everything and bee-lined to the girl, "How are you?"

Her brows furrowed, "'m… fine."

Aegon had never been cruel to her, no. Not the extent he had to Aemond, but he hadn't gone out of his way for her.

Aegon nodded, "Excellent! That's wonderful news." He sat next to her on the sofa. "I must ask something of you. I need an opinion."

Aemond forced himself to sit back down slowly as he watched the interaction closely.

"Oh," she hummed. "I'm not sure I am of much assistance-"

"-Nonsense." He leans back, getting comfortable on the sofa. "You see, I'm getting Jaehaerys a dagger for his next nameday."

"That is hardly a question for me. Aemond could-"

"-Let me finish!" He said annoyed, "I am getting the handle wrapped. I cannot decide a color."

"That is where I help?" She asked.

"Yes." He looked up in mock thought, "I'm stuck between green or…" his head lulled to look at her, "…black."

Aemond leaned forward annoyed, "Brother-"

Aegon held a finger up, "Ah. I did not ask you."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "I suppose you wish me to say green."

"I don't wish you to say anything but the color you believe best." He grinned.

"Aegon," Aemond tried again.

"I am your king!" Aegon yelled, "Do speak to me like one."

Silence filled the room.

"Green," she finally said. "Green would look just fine. Jaehaerys is a fortunate boy."

"He is," Aegon said as he studied her. "He'll be quite handsome, won't he?"

She tilted her head, "I suppose he will. Time will tell."

"And you're a pretty girl, aren't you?"

She could practically feel Aemond's shoulders move back, "I'm… I'm sorry?"

"Your king says you're pretty."

"Oh. T…Thank you, my king."

Aegon looks over to Aemond, seeing him practically seething. He grins before standing, "Green it shall be then!"

He begins to leave before pausing in the doorway, "Oh. And pretty girl?"

Y/n looks over to him, "Yes, my king?"

"You said green is a fine color. Wear it when we all sup tonight."

Aemond felt like tearing the king's throat out.

When the door shut behind Aegon, she asked her husband, "What did I do?"

"He's been acting strange since you left." He sneered.

The door opened. "Prince. Princess. A letter."

Her eyes widened.

Aemond shot up before she could move, adamant about keeping her movement down to a minimum. "I shall take it."

The servant left quickly and Aemond unraveled the note as fast as he could, his eye roaming over the scribbled handwriting.

"Well?" She asked in hope.

Aemond hummed and his head tilted as he read it again.

She huffed and got up.

Only then did his eye look over to her, "Hey."

A hand shot to her forehead and she stumbled.

He quickly moved to her, "No, no, no." His hand moved around her waist, "Sit back down. Sit down."

She sat down with a huff and Aemond sat next to her, "It's from your mother."

"Read it to me."

Aemond looked back down at it.

"The Prince and Princess, I am most overjoyed at the recovery of the princess. As precious as she has become on both sides, I did not imagine her being caught in the crossfire. May the gods watch her no matter how the war may end. I do not bluff when I say your letter was most surprising. And as much as I despise doing so, I must thank you, Prince Aemond, for it being sent. I had lost much sleep in the days before in worry. Please tell her I love her."

Aemond looked back up at his wife, "Please do not expect more letters like this."

She nodded with teary eyes, "I understand."

He reached up and brushed hair from her face, "You're too good."

"Hmm?"

He smiled lightly, "Too good. Too… optimistic. It's sickening at times."

She let out a light chuckle as she wiped her cheek, "I do not believe you."

"You're right." He leaned in and kissed her gently, "You could not sicken me even if you tried." He pulled away with a smirk, "Are you truly going to wear green tonight?"

She faked a grimace, "Now perhaps I'll be sick."

He let out an amused chuckle, "Such is life, my sweet." He sighed and leaned back on the sofa, "But don't worry. I'll rip it off you just the same."

............................................................

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon memes #house of the dragon #house targaryen

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ofstarsandvibranium · 6 months ago

Text

Passion

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: Your attraction to Qimir grows as well as your strength in the Force.

Qimir Masterlist

Not only has Qimir been helping you strengthen your connection to the Force. He's also been helping you how to fight and attack those who threaten to knock you down if they so choose.

He swings at you with a staff and you bend back as it nearly hits your head. He swings overhead and you block the hit with your own staff.

"Good," he pulls back, twirling his weapon in his hand, "Your defense is strong. Now it's your turn. Attack me," he goes into a stance, holding his staff out.

You yell out as you come at him with full force. You swing left and right. Your blows are blocked in swift, fluid motions. You thrust your staff at him and he dodges it.

You glare at him, which makes him chuckle. That sounds eggs you on further as you continue to attack Qimir with as much strength as you can.

"You're frustrated. Good. Use that feeling and call upon the Force."

He swings at you and you block it. Both of your staffs forming an X. You know Qimir is holding back his strength and it makes you a little bit angry. You feel yourself vibrate as you summon the Force.

Qimir, feeling you go stronger, hardens his gaze. He leans in, occupying the open space between the two staffs, his lips close to yours, "Do it," he whispers.

You punch your fist forward and, with the Force, Qimir is thrust into the air and falls onto his back with a hard thud.

He groans out a laugh, "That's it. That's what I've been waiting for." He sits up and rolls back his shoulders, "That," he points at you, "I need more of that from you."

You let out a deep breath and walk over to him. You stick your hand out and he takes it. You help him to his feet and when he stands, his face is right up close to yours.

"You're doing well," he says softly, his breath upon your lips.

He's been getting a lot closer these days. His touch and eyes lingering on you. You shouldn't like it, but you can't help it.

You always found Qimir as attractive, but now with the closeness and his bold actions, your resolve is weakening.

You gulp, taking a step back, "But I can be better."

"You're already doing well for the short time you've been here, don't invalidate your efforts." He uses the Force to bring his staff to him, and he holds out his hand for yours. You hand it to him and look away, "I need to be better."

"And you will in time," he starts trekking down the hill and you follow him, "How long did it take Mae?"

"Stop comparing yourself to her. Her journey is much different from yours."

You follow him in silence until you enter the cave that you now call your home, "Does it bother you that I compare myself to Mae?"

Setting the staffs aside, Qimir sighs, "I understand why you do. A part of me is okay with it because it motivates you. It drives you to work harder and improve."

"But?"

"But Mae is different. She began her training when she was young. So, yes, she is more skilled and her connection to the Force is much stronger. But that doesn't mean yours won't be. I'll make sure of that," he says the last sentence with finality, leaving you somewhat satisfied with his response.

You let out a deep exhale, "I'm going to wash up and clear my head," you point a finger at him, "I better not find you watching me." He chuckles and turns his back to you.

You go to the shore and proceed to strip to nothing. The weather has been warmer so the cool temperature of the water is a welcoming sensation.

You walk further out to the point you're wading in the water. You let out a relaxed sigh. You cup your hands, scooping up water and dunking it onto your head. You smile to yourself at the cool feeling.

"Y/N," you hear a whisper and you look around.

"Hello?"

"Y/N," you hear the whisper again.

"Qimir?" you call out to the man and he doesn't appear.

You feel a tug at your leg and the whisper of your name again. You don't see anything in the water, yet you still feel a light tug.

You continue to wade there, contemplating about going under or not.

"Y/N, come, Y/N," the distant voice whispers.

Your curiosity gets the best of you. You take a deep breath and plunge yourself underwater.

____________________

Qimir was working on lunch while you cleaned up. Various stews, soups, and occasional roasted meats were what made up a majority of your meals. Today was another stew.

It didn't take long to make, so once it was ready, Qimir was stepping outside the cave, to let you know lunch was ready. No response.

He walks down the path to the shore where he sees your discarded clothes, but he doesn't see you.

"Y/N?!" he calls as he looks around, hoping you'd reveal yourself. Then he sees a splash in the water and your arms flailing about.

"Y/N!" he cries out as he runs into the water without hesitation. He swims as fast as he could to your struggling form. His arms wrapping around you and he begins to pull you towards the shore.

When you break through the surface, you let out a sputtering gasp, water following from your mouth. You're coughing when Qimir finally reaches shore.

He looks at you with concern, "Are you okay? What happened?"

You blink at him in confusion, "Wha-Where-" you take in your surroundings and then realize the state you're in, "Kriff, where are my clothes?"

Qimir quickly hands them to you and you do your best to cover up. He looks away, allowing you to quickly re-dress.

"What happened?" he asks, his back still to you.

"I heard a voice," you respond and he turns back to you with furrowed brows, "A woman's voice. She was calling my name and I felt a tug. It felt like something wanted me to go under the water. So I did and...I'm not sure what happened," you look down, recalling what you saw, "I saw my aunt and then...I think I saw my mother. Then I heard screaming and-and I started choking." You look up, "Has that happened to you before?"

He gives a curt nod, "Voices, a calling. Visions."

"Is it the Force or something else?"

"It might be the Force trying to connect you to something or someone. You said you were raised by your aunt. You never knew your parents?"

You shake your head, "My aunt said they were troubled people, that they got involved into dangerous things. They left me with my aunt and never came back." You clear your throat, "Thank you...for saving me."

"Of course," Qimir mumbles and nods to the cave, "C'mon. Lunch is ready."

___________________________

After lunch, you and Qimir are at the top of the hill again. This time, no weapons.

"The Jedi can fight with and without a saber. You need to be skilled at both if you want to defeat them," Qimir explains as he circles you, "You're proficient, but you need to be better." He then holds up a piece of fabric, "Let's see how you do without one of your senses."

"How am I supposed to fight then?"

"I'll let you figure that out," he says teasingly as he stands behind you, tying the cloth over your eyes.

You do your best to listen to his movements. You hear him step and you immediately turn your head to the right. Hearing another step, this time closer, you immediately punch your right fist out. Qimir immediately catches it in his fist.

"Close."

With his hand still on your wrist, you pull him in and kick him back, making him release you. You're smirking, "Point for me."

He gives a low laugh, "I'll admit, my defenses were down. But they won't be this time."

You inhale and relax your body. You feel the power of the Force within you as Qimir attempts to strike at you but you dodge. You weave through a combination of punches. Block a kick here and there before you're attacking him back.

You can't see it, but he's smiling as he blocks your attempts. His eyes shine with pride and amusement, especially when he blocks one hit, only to be punched in the chest. His chest feels heavy but not because of the hit.

You take a few steps back, slightly breathless, "Another point for me."

You don't hear him and your brows furrow, "Qimir?" he doesn't respond and when you take off your blindfold, he's standing right in front of you. You look at him with concern, "Everything okay?"

He observes you face. Taking in the color of your eyes, the slope of your nose, curve of your lips. His eyes lingering on your lips a little too long.

His hand slowly comes up to cup the back of your neck.

"Qimir," you whisper his name but nothing else. You're not sure what you want to say.

His face draws in closer, his lips a breath away from yours. He's hesitating and you don't want him to any longer.

You close the the gap, pressing your lips against his. You grip onto his shirt as if afraid that he'd disappear if you do.

He kisses you with fervency and desperation. You don't think you've ever been kissed in such a way, with so much want. So much...passion.

When he pulls away for air, he looks at you with a slight haze in his eyes.

Realization sets in. Insecurity creeps.

You move to back away, but stops you, "Don't." his demand is low and desperate, "Don't run from it. I know you've been feeling it too."

"I don't know what I'm feeling," you reply hastily.

He nods, "Yes, you do, because I've been feeling it since we first met." He lifts his hand up and you lift yours, mirroring his. You feel the pulsing vibrations between the two of you. You feel the pull of him, the want to be close to him.

"What does it mean?"

Qimir takes your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, "That we are meant to be."

#qimir x reader #qimir imagine #the acolyte #the acolyte imagine #star wars

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lovemaybankk · 6 days ago

Text

ultraviolence - part 2: stalker!rafe cameron x pogue!reader (18+)

pairing: stalker!rafe cameron x pogue!reader

this is a two-part series, read part 1 here!

inspired by lana del rey's song, "ultraviolence" ♡

summary: unbeknownst to you, rafe cameron had been quietly watching you for months, his obsession growing darker with each day. one day, rafe's delusions reach a breaking point, and he kidnaps you, keeping you away in a secluded location where he plans to keep you forever.

word count: 4,512 words

author's note: HI GUYS FINALLY WAR IS OVER FOR ME. i can go back to religiously writing!! i hope you all enjoy <3 also happy holidays to you all!! NOT PROOFREAD

warning: DARK!, mdni, dub-con/non-con, cursing, virgin!reader, praise kink, breeding kink, teasing, fingering, knife play, rope play, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral sex (fem and male receiving)

you woke up groggily, head pounding and the first thing you noticed was the silence. your body felt heavy, and as you shifted, you realized you were lying on a soft mattress, far more comfortable than any.

blinking your eyes open, you were momentarily disoriented. the room around was pristine, almost unnervingly so. white walls, a neatly made bed beneath with crisp sheets, and a small nightstand where a tray of food sat neatly arranged—buttered toast, scrambled eggs, and a glass of orange glass that glinted under the sunlight streaming through a half-drawn curtain.

your breathing quickened as you shot up, the blanket falling away, revealing you were still in your own clothes, though the shoes were gone.

"where am i?" you whispered to yourself, voice cracking in the quiet.

there were no locks on the windows, though they were too high to reach, and the door looked like any ordinary bedroom door. but something about this place felt wrong: it was too clean and too staged.

sliding over the edge of the bed, the floor felt like cool, solid wood. quietly, your crept to the door, pressing your ear against it. nothing. no footsteps, no voices. just the unnatural silence.

your hand trembled as you reached for the handle. locked. of course. panic surged as you wanted to scream, to pound on the door.

turning back to the room, you searched—checking under the bed, behind the nightstand, even peeling back the corners of the wallpaper. if there was a clue, a way out, you had to find it.

abruptly, you heard the sound of the door unlocking from the outside and you loudly gasped, heart pounding in your chest as you were worried about what would be behind that door.

"good morning." rafe was standing there nonchalantly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans, a faint smirk playing on his lips like he knew something I didn’t. the sunlight streamed through the half-open blinds behind him, casting long shadows that danced across the floor.

"you’re up early," he added, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity that made your tomach twist. you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if he was testing you.

"couldn’t sleep," you muttered back, laying back down on the bed and pulling the blanket around you as if it could shield from his piercing gaze.

rafe tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes scanning the room, landing on the untouched tray of food by the bed. "not hungry?"

"not yet," that was a lie. the truth was, you didn’t trust it, or him, for that matter. something about his calm demeanor felt too calculated, like every move he made was part of a carefully constructed plan.

rafe's smirk faded as he caught the edge in your voice. "you're upset," he said, his tone soft but with a thread of something unreadable beneath it.

"upset?" you scoffed, crossing your arms tightly. "you kidnapped me, rafe. upset doesn’t even begin to cover it."

he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on you, steady and unwavering. "i didn’t do this to hurt you," he said after a beat. "i did this because i didn’t know what else to do."

you blinked at him, stunned by the sheer audacity of his words. "you kidnapped me because you didn’t know what else to do? that’s supposed to make this okay? do you even hear yourself right now?"

"i didn’t want to lose you," he said quickly, his voice rising just enough to cut through your anger.

your breath caught, the weight of his confession settling heavily in the room. "so you thought dragging me here and forcing me to stay was the solution?"

"it’s not like that," he protested, stepping closer. "i just… i thought if we had time, if you weren’t surrounded by all those distractions, you’d see how much you mean to me."

"you don’t understand," he said quietly while looking intensely into your eyes. "i’ve never felt this way about anyone. and i know this isn’t the right way to show it, but i didn’t know how else to show you how i feel."

"i just wanted a chance," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "a chance to prove to you that i’m the one who cares the most. that i could make you happy."

for a moment, you said nothing, the silence stretching long and heavy. then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving you alone with your racing heart and the sound of the lock clicking into place.

of course, you had a small crush on rafe too. every time he came into the restaurant and you served him, your heart would skip a beat, your pulse quickening when he flashed you that effortless smile. there was something about the way he carried himself which was confident, yet a little precarious, that drew you in despite your better judgment. but still, you had no idea his feelings for you ran this deep, deep enough to bring you to a secluded location like this.

reluctantly, you gave in and began to eat the food he had provided. the flavors intrigued you, tasty and fulfilling, though they did little to calm the emotions inside you.

as you tried to mentally make sense of everything, rafe walked back in, his presence filling the room and catching you off guard all over again. his gaze was steady, intense, as if he could see every thought running through your mind.

"may i show you something?" rafe asked, his voice low and measured as he sat down on the bed next to you. you shivered slightly, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through you. his closeness felt overwhelming, and you weren’t sure whether to lean away or stay still.

he pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a practiced swipe, and turned the screen toward you. there, in his photo gallery, were images of you, a few from the restaurant, others from your home, and others from random places you didn’t even realize you’d been seen.

"this is how it started," he began, his tone oddly tender, as though he were sharing a precious secret. "i noticed you. everything about you drew me in. the way you move, the way you smile, the way you’re so kind to everyone, even people who don’t deserve it. that's why i gave you so much a tip that day, so you would notice me back. and that's why i kept coming back, in hopes you would fall for me too."

his eyes flicked from the screen to you, searching your face for a reaction. you felt a knot tighten in your stomach as he continued, explaining how his fascination with you grew into something more—something he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

"rafe-" you started, your voice trembling, but the words were cut off as he leaned in suddenly, his lips pressing against yours. you froze, your body stiffening as a wave of unease washed over you. his kiss was insistent, his hand grazing your cheek, but instead of warmth, you felt a chill of dread creeping up your spine.

your mind screamed at you to pull away, but your body felt paralyzed, caught off guard by the suddenness of it all. when he finally pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for something. approval, maybe, or permission.

"you don’t have to look so scared," he murmured, a small, almost amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "rafe, i... i don't-" you started, but your voice faltered under his intense gaze. he tilted his head slightly and the tension in the room only grew heavier.

"it doesn't have to be like this. please, let me go, and we can go out together instead and get to know each other more," you said, your voice shaky with fear. the words tumbled out in a desperate attempt to regain control, but rafe's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

he didn’t respond right away, his gaze shifting as if he was assessing whether you were serious or simply trying to escape. the silence was suffocating, and the air around you felt thick with tension. finally, he clicked his tongue, a sharp, disapproving sound that made your heart race even faster.

"you don’t get to decide that," rafe murmured, his voice low and his fingers tightened slightly, and the warmth of his hand felt more like a weight now. "i’ve been patient, but you're not going to talk your way out of this."

suddenly, you felt rafe grab your the sides of your arms tightly, and forcefully pushed you to lay down on the bed. the cushions hit you hard as did the weight of him abruptly getting on top of you. the warmth of his body overwhelmed you as his lips crashed onto yours in seconds.

you were mumbling against his mouth, trying to speak words, but this only made him attempt to slide his tongue into your mouth as your lips parted. you felt him exploring, every part of you, as his hands roamed around your body, where he stopped to tightly grip your plush inner thighs.

"rafe, no!" you mumbled against his mouth but it was no use as his mouth was intertwined with yours. you used all of your strength trying to push him, using your hands to firmly grip his shoulders and try your absolute hardest to push him away. but this only angered rafe as he finally parted his face from yours and looked intensely into your eyes with pure hunger.

"don’t you see how much i need you?!" he nearly screamed in your face, his voice echoing in the confined space. the sheer intensity of his outburst sent a jolt of terror through you, your breath catching in your throat.

you were frozen, your body trembling beneath him as if every muscle refused to obey. the room seemed to shrink around you, the walls pressing in as his presence felt larger. your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out any coherent thought, leaving only the raw, overwhelming instinct to flee.

"all this fucking time! i need you right now. and i finally have you here all to myself." even while laying on top of you, he still managed to pull out a few feet of soft rope from his pockets. he proceeded to pin you down as he tightly grabbed your wrists, joining them together. you winced in pain from how tight he was gripping them, bound to leave marks on your soft flesh. with one hand proceeding to grip them together, he used his other to wrap the rope around it and make a knot to tie it together. with the remaining few feet, he used it to tie your joint wrists on the metal headboard.

you shivered as you noticed the pocket knife he suddenly pulled out and the loud noise of the blade flicking out.

"rafe, no!" you screamed, your voice breaking with panic as you tried to twist away from him, still confined with rope.

he barely flinched, his expression calm but unnervingly intense. "don’t worry, baby," he said softly, his tone almost soothing, though it sent a chill down your spine. ‘i’m not going to hurt you. i just need to get you out of these clothes."

your breath hitched as the blade glinted under the sunlight. you froze, your heart pounding wildly as he brought it to the hem of your shirt. with careful precision, he began slicing through the fabric, the sound of the knife tearing through cloth sharp and deafening in the otherwise silent room.

tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of fear and humiliation coursing through you. you wanted to fight, to scream again, but the weight of his presence kept you paralyzed. he worked methodically, as though this was perfectly normal, while you could barely breathe, your mind racing with desperate thoughts of escape.

you were vulnerable in front of him, stripped down to nothing but your undergarments.

your hands trembled as you wanted to shield yourself, but of course, this did little to ease the sense of exposure when you were tied up. your breath came in uneven gasps, and you kept your eyes fixed firmly on the walls beside you, refusing to meet his. but even without looking, you could feel the intensity of his stare, unyielding and possessive, making it impossible to ignore him.

you shivered as suddenly, the cold blade was held against your skin and you felt it gradually slide down to your waist. even though you were consumed with fear, you were paralyzed, fixed in your position and trying to not get cut by the blade already so close to your skin.

"so beautiful...so delicate." rafe was admiring you nearly naked underneath him as his other hand was gently caressing your skin. he leaned in to your face, causing you to instinctly turn your head to the side but he only leaned in to whisper in your ear, "so soft..."

he was still leaned in to you and your body nearly jumped from the sudden feeling of his rough hand coming down to your mound, where he began to gently rub your clit through your panties.

"you claim you don't want this....yet you're so wet baby."

his face inched closer, his breath warm against your skin. before you could react, his lips captured yours, pressing firmly as if claiming you. his kiss was invasive, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore, dominating the space with an intensity that left you breathless. the kiss deepened, leaving you struggling to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

he was right. if this was not what you wanted, why was your body giving in like this? deep down, you internally had to admit to yourself a part of you wanted this. a part of you was turned on by him doing all of this. and this whole time, you had wanted him.

he leaned back from you again, taking a moment to deeply stare at you, admiring his view of you tied up underneath him like this. he sat on his ankles and used one hand to firmly grab your waist steady and the blade that had been held so still against your skin now was trying to get underneath your panties. rafe proceeded to flip the blade amidst your skin and rise it up, in attempt to cut the delicate lace of the panties. he swiftly moved it out of the way, stuffing it into his pockets for later.

he softly gripped your inner thighs and parted them, holding it in place into the mattress. he lowered his face to hover over your mound and you could feel his hot breath against you.

he licked a long stripe up your puffy folds, causing you to loudly gasp and whimper when his wet tongue held still at your bud, sending waves of pleasure through you. when he continued to intricately explore your pussy with his tongue, making sure to it made you arch your back and curl your toes as you were clenching around his tongue that was abruptly inserted into your hole.

as he continued his movements, your body felt pure euphoria from his touch. rafe was holding your hips roughly down into the mattress, and your thighs were tightly closed onto his face, which only encouraged him to continue and explore your folds with his tongue while rubbing the tip of his nose on your delicate clit.

"such a good girl, huh? taking me so well...i knew you would like this." while gripping his firm grip on ur hips, he leaned out of your crotch, only causing you to audibly whimper from the lack of touch. "don't worry baby..."

he kept one hand to grip your hips as usual, but he released the other to suck two joint fingers, his middle and his ring, into his mouth. after properly lubricating himself, he slowly stuck the fingers into your wet and needy hole, paying particular attention to your reaction. at first, you winced at the sting that came from his abrupt entrance to you. but his face came to yours and he softly kissed your forehead, "it's ok baby, please breathe through it. i promise it will feel so good."

he began to slowly thrust them in and out, pushing them in with ease because of your arousal. while continuing to thrust at a steady yet gradual pace, he lowered his head back in to suck on your sensitive clit. the amount of pleasure crashed onto you and you began to loudly whimper and moan with the eyes rolling to the back of your head. you whimpered to him, "rafe, please keep going..."

of course, he obliged, and continued to suck on your bud so well, and thrust his fingers in and out of your hole, each time hitting that sweet spongy spot was making your toes curl and sending you closer to your release.

you felt the coil in your stomach began to tighten as he was perfectly curling his fingers inside of you and continuing his steady pace. you began to melt onto his touch as you felt your release coming. he was eager to draw your orgasm out, and he continued to suck on your swollen bud while pumping his fingers in and out of your sopping cunt.

your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, each inhale loud and ragged from your intense release. your body glowed with a sheen of sweat, the dampness clinging to your skin as the adrenaline coursing through you kept your heart pounding.

he suddenly came face to face with you, feeling his intense breath on your face and that throbbing feeling in your crotch. "you look so beautiful right now." you blushed at his response and only looked at him through your eyelashes.

he smirked and chuckled at you, "we're not finished yet baby..." you felt surprised at his words and were curious, wondering intensely what he meant and what was going to happen next.

the mattress suddenly sprung back up from the release of his weight on it as rafe hovered over the bed. he slowly, wanting you to pay close attention and to tease you, used his hands to undo his belt, letting his jeans fall down to his ankles. he took his socked feet out of the bundle of fabric and slowly, again, lowered his boxers to free his hard cock that slapped his stomach. his large pink tip was already glistening with his leaking pre-cum and you were drooling at the sight, legs clenched together trying to soothe the throbbing feeling.

he came back onto the mattress, legs spread apart as your chest was between his thighs. you licked a small part of your lips as his large cock was in front of your eyes.

rafe gently cupped your chin, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. his eyes bore into yours, filled with an intense, almost predatory hunger that made your stomach twist. his touch was soft and tender, yet the weight of his intention was clear.

with a slow, deliberate motion, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, the pad of his finger lingering for a moment before gently parting your lips.

he raspily said to you, "are you gonna take me like a good girl?" all you could make out was an eager nod to him. you were desperate and admittedly hungry for him. he chuckled again, "yeah, you're gonna suck me?"

he used one hand to softly cup the back of your head, holding it up to look at him while he used the other to stroke himself in front of you. he spitted in his hand and then proceeded his same stroking motion, releasing a groan.

suddenly, he used his hand to slap his tip on your lips, making you instinctively part them for you to kiss it ever so softly. he groaned at this small movement and murmured, "make sure to flatten that tongue, alright baby?" you listened and opened your mouth wide for him as he moved the rest of your length inside of you. he began to use both of his hands to hold your head as he began to slowly thrust himself in and out of your mouth. his head was arched back, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and he was loudly groaning at the feeling of your wet mouth taking all of him. drool was falling off the corners of your mouth as his leaking tip was hitting the back of your throat. at this point, you were already choking on his length.

he continued to pump his cock in and out of your mouth for a few moments until he abruptly came out, letting you catch your breath. he came back down to meet face to face with you and he began to undo the knot that held you to the bed frame, letting your wrists gently fall into his hands. you softly held his hair as he lowered his head gradually down your body, planting his kisses on your skin.

he gently kissed your folds as he parted your legs, planting them into the mattress like earlier. he adjusted himself to be perfectly between your legs, lifting your waist up and lining himself up with your wet entrance.

"don't worry angel, we can take our time, alright? just let me know whenever you're ready." you nodded and while making sure you were looking at him, he slapped your folds with your tip and glided it gently up and down your folds. he was taking his time, enjoying the sight of you whimpering at this touch regardless and waiting with anticipation.

you loudly whimpered to him, "rafe, please!" he chuckled at you and and said, "ok! ok..." he looked into your eyes as he entered you slowly, feeling yourself sink down on his length. you tightly closed your eyes at this sudden entrance and you felt him scoot his way between your arms so you could have them wrapped around his neck. he began to plant gentle kisses down your neck and cheeks, wiping your tears away. "remember to breathe, alright baby? you can do it..." he waited a minute for you to adjust to his length, staying in his position even though he wanted to thrust into you so much. you were so warm and tight wrapped around him, both of you moaning as you began to gently move, signaling you were comfortable and ready for his length.

he began to gradually move his cock in and out of your walls, making you moan at every stroke. "you were just begging for this cock, weren't you huh?" you nodded at him, arms wrapped around him and tightly gripping onto his hair as you wrapped your legs around his waist, encouraging him to move more. you were bucking your hips to meet his as his pace was increasing, easily sliding in and out of you because of your arousal. you were nearly a moaning mess underneath him as your leaking pussy was wrapped around his rock hard cock. his length was gradually driving into your needy cunt mercilessly.

he groaned to you, "you're so beautiful like this...cock-hungry and taking me so well."

his cock continued to perfectly kiss your cervix with each thrust, arms wrapped around your waist for him to stroke that sweet spot inside of you. you felt yourself already nearing your release but this changed when rafe's hand began to gently rub your sensitive clit, while ramming into your hole. your walls were further clenching around him as you were about to cum for him, his cock already sliding perfectly in and out of you and the skin-slapping sound echoing across the room. his raspy voice echoed in the room, 'm gonna cum inside of this pussy angel..."

his words made your velvety walls spasm around his length as your orgasm crashed over you. your body shuddered with pleasure as loud moans came from you. you squeezed around his length, milking him for all he had as he continued to pump himself inside of you, inside of your snug walls.

"i'm so close..." rafe groaned, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "can't wait to see you with my baby."

you instinctively were trying to rhythmically move yourself on his cock and rafe continued to loudly groan while loud whimpers were releasing from you as he thrusted into you at a faster pace. he moved his head out of the crook of your neck to passionately kiss you, his tongue meeting with yours and intertwining in heat. he twitched while deeply inside of you, ropes of his cum filling you, while he groaned inside of your mouth. he moved himself ever so slightly to make sure he was as deep inside of and as close to you as possible. his thrusts became sloppier and eventually halted as he fell on top of you, cupping your face to meet his and eagerly meeting his lips with yours. you moaned into his touch and kissed him back, only thinking about him.

he moved to lay beside you, both of your breaths eventually synchronizing. after releasing the knot that was on your wrists, he wrapped his arms around you, scooting you to be closer to him. you buried your head in the crook of the neck, seeking comfort in the moment.

"rafe... i want to stay with you," you looked up again and whispered, your voice soft and tinged with vulnerability as you batted your eyes, lying beside him. his expression softened instantly, the intensity in his eyes giving way to something warmer, almost tender.

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with surprising gentleness. "you don’t know how much that means to me," he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion.

you felt his arm slide around your waist, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest. his heartbeat was steady, a rhythmic thrum that somehow began to lull you into a sense of calm despite everything. his fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, and you found yourself relaxing against him, your eyelids growing heavy.

"you’re safe with me," he whispered, his breath warm against your hair. those words echoed in your mind as the tension in your body melted away.

before long, his breathing slowed, evening out as sleep overtook him. you lay there for a while longer, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his chest.

tomorrow, you would talk to him. together, you’d slow things down, take the time to truly understand each other, and ensure that this—whatever it was—could become something real, something you wouldn’t regret.

with that thought easing the weight in your chest, you let your eyes close, his steady breathing guiding you into a nap.

taglist! - @purplerose291, @o0itsjustme0o, @gillybear17, @l1ttlesstar, @10ava01, @frankoceanluvr11, @mattyskies, @my-name-is-baby, @ironmakerperfection, @cherry-coloureddfunk, @hoelesslyt, @crazylady20, @itsyourmanjuno, @wtfdudesblog, @pillowprincess4him, @rafesfavouritegirl

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angelonasher · 1 year ago

Text

Everything so far about the Season 9 Egg War (part 2)

buckle up because this is a ride-

Part 1, [you're here!], part 3?

1. [26] Grian discovers that both methods of breaking dragon eggs crashes him. It’s also revealed that he knows how to fix it (something to do with a mod) but has decided not to, and instead keep a list of everyone who abuses the crashing. (but he does clean some eggs later in the video, so he might have fixed it, at least temporarily)

2. [27] The Buttercups have a meeting, and their future plan (as summarized by Mumbo) is: “Build up a big tent, have an impressive HQ, recruit some extra people with our sweet magic skills. Apparently. Apparently is the plan- and then, and then victory.” They’re planning to build a big tent to recruit people. I can’t remember what the magic bit was about.

3. [28] Mumbo builds the Bottercup, a walking robot pot with four legs and three buttercups sprouting out of it to fight Doc’s Goat Walker. It has a tnt-missile that should explode on impact.

4. [29] Mumbo talks to Ren while making the Bottercup, and tells him about the robot. Ren then leaves, after saying that he will “definitely not relay this information to Doc.” Mumbo wonders if Ren is a spy.

5. [30] Grian builds a giant pot (of the 1.20 kind) to enclose the Bottercup (similar to the barn enclosing the Goat Walker) and builds “Live Laugh Love” in some beautiful cursive on the side of the perimeter. It took so much time and genuinely looks nice, which makes Grian wonder if he’s pranked himself.

6. [31] Mumbo clears the eggs from his base, and has so much fun with the method he had figured out that he ends up clearing the eggs in the back of Grian’s base too, which he realizes was the most pointless thing he could have done with his time. He also gets a purple crown and becomes his own best friend.

7. [32] Scar builds the Buttercup’s Cookie Shop, a flower pot near the perimeter giving out buttercup cookies for free. The cookies are retextured raw chicken.

8. [33] Doc expresses his hatred for shallow motivational quotes and cursive writing in Minecraft. He also mentions how the Buttercups are turning the perimeter into a Facebook Karen’s kitchen/page.

9. [34] Ren (now Agent double-o-sev-Ren) shows Doc the spy place he built under the Buttercup camp, which is accessed by eating in the cave under the camp, then throwing an enderpearl into the one-block hole that will appear in the wall.

10. [35] The spy place contains three rooms. The spy lab, containing the Discombobulator 9000, the chilling out room, where they wait for the Buttercups to go to their camp but have to constantly press shift (should have surronded it by chests to hide the nametags-), and the Sniffer Hole, located directly under the camp, that also has a random bee.

11. [36] Ren and Doc investigate Scar’s cookie shop, Doc thinking its a sign of peace and Ren assuming it will blow up. Doc gets food poisoning from a cookie, and considers blowing the shop up so other hermits won’t get fooled as well.

12. [37] Doc and Ren go into the Discombobulator 9000 in that order, coming out wearing sniffer oinses. Ren is the top-half of the sniffer, and Doc is the bottom half.

13. [38] Doc helps Ren put sniffers in the Sniffer Hole, and Ren gives him a military package that was shipped accross the Gigaverse by Giga-corp (that is actually what he said.) It contains loaded rocket-crossbows and many “pink large ball” rockets.

14. [39] They use their new outfits to disguise as a “baby sniffer” (sniflet) and blend in with the other sniffers in the Sniffer Hole as they eavesdrop on the Buttercups. What am I looking at. Why??? 😭

15. [40] Scar gives Mumbo and Grian food poisoning with his cookies. Mumbo tells Scar that’s not how a poisoning works, and you’re only supposed to poison a specific person, not everbody.

16. [41] Mumbo discovers that the sign of his tent has been edited to “Buttercup’s toilet” and a toilet and toilet-paper has been placed inside. He thinks it was done by Doc, but discovers it was actually just Scar, because his choice of smooth stone for the floor makes it look like a bathroom.

17. [42] They discuss the “Live, Laugh, Love” writing on the perimeter’s walls, and Scar says he would quit Minecraft if someone ever did that to him.

18. [43] Grian and Mumbo talk about how their chat said to add a Jellie “hanging in there” poster and a “Peace, Love, and Plants” tapestry. They discuss how they could add details to make it more floral and decorative before they are suddenly interupted.

19. [44] Doc gets frustrated with the threat of shallow motivational quotes and blows his and Ren’s cover by yelling that there will be no such things in his perimeter.

20. [45] The Buttercups dig down and discover the two eavesdroppers. Ren laments at Doc ruining the thing he spent a week building, and Mumbo is probably traumatized by the two’s costume, seeing as his POV was the only one of the Buttercups’s actually showing their abomination of a sniflet in action.

21. [46] Doc says that they now know their plans, but Mumbo responds with a good old “thankfully they were fake plans!” They were not fake plans.

22. [47] Grian realizes they somehow got one of his sniffers, Snot, into the Sniffer Hole. His other sniffer, (Dwight) Schnoot, is not there.

23. [49] The five agree to settle this like adults by letting the robots do all the work, but not before it is pointed out that they aren’t really acting like adults by wearing sniffer oinses and eating raw chicken. (Doc also offends their new rainbow outfits, which, as said by Mumbo, is a lot coming from the bottom-half of a sniffer.)

24. [49] They drop the concrete-powder doors of the robots and let them start running, which, despite from a slight panic from the Buttercups at the door not falling properly, goes smoothly.

25. [50] As it turns out, the Goat Walker is not only incredibly slow, but it shoots tnt from the wrong end, pooping out explosives and destroying the perimeter of the perimeter instead of the Bottercup. It’s also supposed to shoot tnt from the sides, but for some reason that didn’t work.

26. [51] The Buttercups have issues with the mic mod not working correctly, relogging and always having one person unable to hear the other. They decide to all log off at the same time, and while that fixes the mic issues, it unloads the chunks of the Bottercup, causing it too stop walking.

27. [52] After a lot of panic, Mumbo manages to get it running again, all while the extremely slow Goat Walker has barely left its barn. Ren and Doc cheer for the Bottercup’s success, before Doc tells Ren to stop- but- he was cheering too.

28. [53] The bots eventually collide, and the Bottercup’s tnt exploded as planned.

29. [54] The tnt blows up most of the Bottercup and only the nose off of the Goat Walker. Doc thinks he’s won, but Grian says that if the Goat Walker can still walk, Doc wins.

30. [55] The Goat Walker can no longer run crawl. The Buttercups celebrate their victory, but Doc then alerts Ren and blows a horn, causing Ren to fire a rocket-crossbow at the Bottercups before the two fly away in different directions.

31. [56] Scar alerts the other Buttercups about the butterfly heading speedily torwards his Scarland. Apparently, he was the only one aware that it had tnt, and Grian hadn’t even known it could move.

32. [57] The butterfly flies over the Goat Walker and bombs it. This is due to a miscalculation on Doc’s part when he calculated where the bots would be apon collusion. This would not have happened if the Bottercup hadn’t broken down mid-battle.

33. [58] With a lot of panic, the Buttercups manage to stop it before it even hits the forest seperating the perimeter from Scarland.

34. [59] Grian wonders where Ren went, which makes them all realize that there’s another butterfly (Mothra) being piloted by Ren, heading straight for Grian’s and Mumbo’s bases. (Although, they only seemed to think about Grian’s base at the time. What’s in front Grian’s base, guys??)

35. [60] They stop the Mothra a lot quicker than Doc’s unnamed butterfly. The comments were giving Mumbo credit for that, on his last rocket too, so let pause to applaude Mumbo. 👏👏👏

36. [61] Doc gets upset over the destruction of his Goat Walker and blames the Buttercups for their stupidity causing it too happen. He says “Your incompetence is your strongest power!” and Mumbo replies with "eeeyup."

37. [61] The Buttercups meet up and confirm that the fighting is not over, and that even though they won the battle, they still need to win the war.

38. [92] The perimeter of the perimeter has a lot of damage, and the Buttercups’s bases, as well as their camp, are untouched. That’s. That. How do you fail so badly.

39. [93] Doc (to his viewers) says that he thinks he actually won the Bot Battle, considering that the Bottercup had a lot more damage from the fight itself than the Goat Walker. He also mentions that for his next attack, he has gotten inspired by Tango’s latest episode. Which. I haven’t actually watched. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

40. [94] This should go in earlier but I’m too lazy to change all the numbers: Scar reveals that apparently there was another “legitimate” (not duped) dragon egg on the server before Grian and Doc duped eggs; one that “myseriously” appeared in his inventory when he was in the End a few months ago. He decides he’s going to sell it in an auction on the street between Cubfan’s and Cleo’s rivaling museums.

I was planning to wait for Pearl's episode before posting this, but she made a community post saying this week's episode will be new life, not hermitcraft, so I just posted now :D

Anyway, I’d like to encourage you all to point out any mistakes/details I missed in the comments/tags of shares, which I will add in a reblog like I did last time! I don’t watch Ren, so there might be a few :D

(The link for part two in the part one post is at the end of the reblog, not in the og post.)

#hermitcraft #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #the buttercups #buttercup alliance #the egg war #hermitcraft s9 #docm77 #rendog #renthedog #egg war summary #summary #list #bottercup #doc is technically the victim here #but mumbo is the most victim here

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drgnmnts · 5 months ago

Text

knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 4 - Belonging

📢A/N: JACE HAS CURLY HAIR. LET'S FORGET THAT WIG EVER EXISTED, OKAY? IMAGINE THIS JACE WITH CURLY HAIR. I WOULD GO TO WAR FOR THOSE CURLS. 📢

Word count: 3.4k

SIX YEARS LATER

“Limbās, Silverwing.”

Slower.

The powerful beat of the she-dragon’s wings came to a stop as she let her enormous body glide steadily through the clouds, her iridescent scales glistening like precious jewels in the sun’s embrace.

As she circled around Bronzegate, right above Storm’s End, Daenys could descry King’s Landing on the other side of the Kingswood.

Despite Rhaenyra giving her full agency to visit the capital whenever she so desired, the truth was that Daenys had only flown back to see her family three times in the time she had spent living at Dragonstone.

The first time had been a couple of months after her departure, upon receiving a letter from her mother in which the queen told her she missed her. When she arrived, Alicent had stared at her in confusion, as if she hadn’t expected her daughter to interpret her words as an invitation.

The second time had been for Aegon and Helaena’s wedding, but she was back at Dragonstone before the bedding ceremony.

The third time was a year later, when Helaena had given birth to Jahaerys and Jahaera, and it had pained Daenys terribly to say goodbye to her dear niece and nephew.

After that, she had never returned.

Across the expanse of trees, Vhagar’s silhouette stood out, too big to be kept in the Dragonpit with the others. Daenys had encountered Aemond several times throughout the years, both siblings finding the coast of Tarth their preferred place to rest after a long ride. They had never spoken to each other, perhaps out of fear of not knowing what to say, or perhaps (and this Daenys would never admit out loud) because Aemond had grown up to become quite an intimidating young man, and Daenys wasn’t sure whether he would be up for a conversation or a shared meal. She didn’t really know him anymore, and a big part of that was her fault.

As she ordered Silverwing to head back to Dragonstone, the dragon’s sinuous movements beneath Daenys so familiar and a testament to its formidable strength, Daenys wondered if her brothers ever thought of her. She knew Helaena did, as the sisters often sent letters to each other to keep in touch and share whatever news they may have, but she hadn’t heard from the boys in years, not even from Daeron.

“Lantā mēre,” she commanded after a few hours in complete silence as Silverwing approached the Dragonmont and, as her rider requested, the dragon descended gently.

Daenys was sore after such a long ride, though this kind of pain she was happy to endure.

“We imagined you in Essos already,” welcomed her Daemon, covered in ash and dirt as a result of one of his expeditions to the volcanic tunnels searching for eggs.

“I am ten-and-seven, Uncle. How come you still worry about me as if I were a child?” she asked, smiling at him as she let the dragonkeepers tend to Silverwing.

“When did I say I was worried?” he wondered, feigning confusion, as he properly greeted his niece with a side hug. His other arm was occupied with a satchel, where she assumed he had placed Syrax’s eggs.

“How many?” she asked, pointing at the leather bag.

“Three,” he said, clearly overjoyed by the new addition to the Dragonmont collection. “We would have more if you let Silverwing rest for a bit, being able to coil with Vermax would have her producing eggs in no time.”

Daenys let out a small laugh. “You ask too much of me, Uncle,” she replied. “Speaking of Vermax, where is Jace?”

______________________________

After a quick bath and a change of clothes, Daenys followed Daemon's indications about Jace's whereabouts. His High Valyrian lessons always took place in the Great Hall, where he practiced with old texts and the invaluable help of Maester Gerardys.

"Vezhof, Maestur. Iā iāhor naejot ābrot ñuha lentys' tresys isse hāedrys," she said as she walked down the stairs. You may leave, Maester. I wish to instruct my sister's son this morning.

“Certainly, Princess.”

As Maester Gerardys left the room, Jace stood in his place, hands joined at his back, waiting for his aunt to take the maester’s place next to him. Daenys could feel his warm gaze on her, but she didn’t meet his eye; instead, she scanned the page they had been practicing with and continued the lesson where the maester had left it.

“Aegon mazverdagon lēkia rȳ ondoso lentor bē skoros,” she read.

Jace repeated the sentence a few times, and tried his luck at the translation:

“Aegon… built a small wooden fort… atop the hill”.

“Sȳrī jorrāelagon, ñuha dārilaros,” Daenys said. Well done, my prince. “Dāria voktys belmonda zūgusy issa nāpār lēkia.”

This one took a bit longer. It was a difficult text but she knew Jacaerys was eager to become fluent, which made this kind of practice necessary.

“The city expanded… fast?” he tried. He used to be ashamed of speaking High Valyrian in front of her, too embarrassed of his struggles when it clearly rolled so easily off her tongue, but he enjoyed her lessons way too much to miss them due to his own self-consciousness.

“Rapidly,” she corrected. “Zūgusy issa nāpār lēkia, under his descendants. It’s a tricky one.”

“Not for you, it seems,” he said, not an ounce of bitterness in his tone.

Daenys beamed at him and shrugged. “I guess growing up with Aemond being as competitive as I am had its perks. It motivated me to become better than him at everything.”

Jace nodded, chuckling at the memory of Daenys as a girl, all those times she would demand a rematch with tears in her eyes everytime she lost at something, tireless.

“Come on, one more,” she urged. “Ñuha jorrāelagon gevie issa bē sȳndesse.” A small smile tugged at her lips, and Jace grinned to himself as he approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“My betrothed looks… lovely this morning,” he replied, earning himself a pleased hum from Daenys, thus letting him know that he was, in fact, correct.

“Perfect,” Daenys said, placing the palms of her hands on his chest.

Neither of them could remember when their friendship had turned into something more, as the idea of marriage slowly shifted from a burden to something they both awaited with indescribable excitement.

Perhaps it had been a consequence of the hours they spent flying together on Vermax and Silverwing, or their walks along the coast of Dragonstone, sharing memories and secrets. Perhaps it had been Jace’s efforts to make her feel included and welcomed from the moment she set foot on Dragonstone all those years ago, despite her initial reluctance to get close to him and his family. Or maybe it had been the tenderness she exuded every time she spoke to Joffrey, or how easily she made Luke laugh, or the way Jace’s heartbeat quickened every time she met his gaze.

Jace brushed his nose against hers. “We can go for a walk later,” he offered.

“Or a ride,” she said, and the two of them smiled at her eagerness to be on dragonback again after having spent so long flying over the bay.

“A ride, then,” he agreed.

Daenys’ hands slid up his chest and shoulders until they reached his face, where she gently stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. Too absorbed in gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, neither of them noticed that someone else had entered the room.

“Is this how you expect to become fluent at High Valyrian?” Princess Rhaenyra asked as she made her way down the stairs. Her tone was of amusement and there was no intention of admonishment in her face, but her presence made the young couple separate immediately.

“Mother,” Jace greeted her bowing his head, partly to salute her, and partly to hide the bright red that now tinted his cheeks.

“My princess,” said Daenys, curtsying accordingly, equally embarrassed.

Rhaenyra walked up to them, her hands softly caressing her pregnant belly, which was now starting to round as she was almost halfway through her pregnancy.

“Maester Gerardys said I would find you here. I should've known you would be much more invested in your lessons with such a beautiful teacher.”

Jace smiled timidly, still unable to look at his mother. Amused, she continued.

“Perhaps you’d like to show me how the instruction is going?” she requested as she took a seat at the table, tired from the pregnancy.

Daenys quickly returned to the text, ignoring the pink in her cheeks. It took her a moment to find the right page.

“Dāria Āeksio daor lēkia Aegonforto,” she read.

Jace sighed. “Daria…”

“Dāria,” Rhaenyra corrected, watching her son intently.

“Dāria Āeksio daor… The Red Keep changed the Aegonfort.”

“Replaced,” the two women said at the same time, the occurrence making them chuckle.

Not wanting to make her son suffer any longer, Rhaenyra gestured for Daenys to close the book; there was no need for the lesson to continue.

“It pleases me that you two have found it in you to enjoy each other’s company so much,” she began, “but you have to be careful. We do not need rumors starting to spread around about the princess’ virtue.”

At the mere mention of his betrothed’s reputation being affected in any way by his lack of care, Jace’s expression changed into a serious one.

“Of course, Mother. I would never allow such a thing.”

“It won’t happen again, Princess. I promise,” added Daenys, fully aware of how terrible it would be if such slander was thrown her way.

Rhaenyra nodded, pleased with their attitude, while she caressed her belly. As she stood, both Jace and Daenys straightened their backs again, showcasing the respect they felt for the princess. Rhaenyra approached them, and placed her motherly hands on each of their cheeks.

“A raven arrived today from Driftmark,” she began, and both Jace and Daenys’ brows furrowed with worry almost simultaneously. “Baela wrote to Daemon to let us know that Vaemond Velaryon is attempting to challenge Luke’s claim to the Driftwood Throne.”

“But Lord Corlys already named Luke his heir, and Father agreed,” Daenys protested.

“Lord Corlys might not survive his injuries. We cannot count on him,” Rhaenyra said simply.

“What about Princess Rhaenys?” wondered Jace.

Rhaenyra sighed. “Let us hope she chooses to support us.”

“So we’re going to King’s Landing?” the young princess further asked.

“On the morrow,” Rhaenyra confirmed, and Daenys’ expression changed despite how much she was trying to hide her emotions. “Luke is upset, as you can imagine,” she added, speaking to Jace. “He needs his brother.”

Jace nodded, understanding, and gave Daenys a look of apology: their ride would need to wait.

After her son had left the room, Rhaenyra sat down again.

"I know that face," she said to Daenys.

Ever since welcoming her into her family, Rhaenyra had earned herself the role of mentor and confidante in Daenys’ life. She had taken the time to explain the politics of the realm to her, the importance of legacy, and the strength that Daenys would need to cultivate if she were to become queen consort one day. With time, the pair had found it in them to slowly build a bridge over the chasm that had once separated them.

Daenys sat across from her, and that perspective made them look like two different versions of the same person.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

Rhaenyra took a moment to answer as she stroked her belly.

“By putting into question Luke’s legitimacy, he’s also questioning Jace’s and my own claim to the Throne.”

Daenys lowered her gaze, worried. “Why now?” she asked.

“What did your mother say the last time she wrote to you? That Father was getting weaker and weaker by the day, could barely move or speak without overexerting himself,” she said, raising her brows slightly.

“So you think this is their doing? The queen and the Hand’s?” Daenys asked. My mother and my grandsire.

“Not entirely, but they are definitely supporting Vaemond’s claims.”

Daenys buried her face in her hands. She was tired. Exhausted. The fact that after so many years the matter was still being questioned despite King Viserys’ blessing for Luke to inherit the Driftwood Throne was senseless.

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about. Or ask of you, to be precise,” said Rhaenyra after a moment of silence.

When Daenys nodded, encouraging her to speak, Rhaenyra reached over the table and grabbed her hand.

“I need you to promise me that you will stay strong while we’re at King’s Landing. That you won’t falter when they spill their honey in your ear,” she said. Daenys’ brow furrowed, feeling confused and slightly insulted.

“Have I not proven my loyalty to you time and time again?” she asked.

“Of course,” Rhaenyra replied immediately. “Yes, always. But right now, the Red Keep is a venomous place. I wouldn’t want you to be put in a situation where you have to choose sides.”

“But I have chosen a side,” Daenys said, defensive. “Every single day, by not escaping, I am choosing a side. It is your cause that I believe in, your son the one I want to see sitting on the Driftwood Throne when the time comes.”

Rhaenyra let out a breath. When she spoke again, her eyes were honest.

“You are very important to me, Daenys. Not only as a sister but as an ally. Your support means a lot to this family and I fear that, by exposing you to them, I might be pushing you away from us.”

As she always did when she was stressed or worried, a habit she had unknowingly picked up from her mother, Daenys began nervously picking at her fingers. Rhaenyra noticed and held her hand again, making her stop.

“You took me in six years ago,” she began, “a girl you barely knew, who had been mean to your children, who had... taken part in the narrative that was told about them at court. I didn't make it easy for you at first, and yet you treated me as if you were my— as if I was your daughter. You offered me a seat at your table, a chair next to you by the hearth, a place in your council. Do you really think me so ungrateful?”

Rhaenyra lowered her gaze, ashamed for having even considered the possibility of betrayal, but also pleased with Daenys' contained outrage: it meant she truly cared.

“No. No, of course not.”

The tension between them eased as they shared a moment of silent solidarity, but the weight of the impending trip to King’s Landing still loomed over them.

Finally, Rhaenyra spoke again, her voice steady. “You should get some rest. There’s much to be done before we leave.”

_____________________

That night, as she sat at her desk with only the hearth and a single candle illuminating her chamber, Daenys decided to write to Helaena.

My dearest Helaena,

It has saddened me deeply to learn that Vaemond Velaryon means to call into question Lucerys’ legitimacy. I might err on the side of innocence, but I had hoped this matter was already settled. Perhaps this instance will finally put an end to such nonsense.

Despite this, I look forward to seeing you again, and your children. They must be so grown now… I will make sure to bring presents for them so they can remember their aunt.

We will arrive at King’s Landing within the week, as we must sail since Rhaenyra and Daemon want Father to meet little Aegon and little Viserys.

I do hope we can have a peaceful time together.

Your sister, who loves you,

Daenys

As she rolled the piece of parchment, the wax for the three-headed dragon seal already melted and ready to use, Ser Lorent knocked on her door.

“Forgive me, Princess. Prince Jacaerys requests a word,” he announced.

“Of course. Send him in.” It wasn’t uncommon for Jace to visit Daenys in her quarters, and Rhaenyra allowed it, so long as the door remained open.

Unlike Daenys, who was already clad in her sleeping clothes, a beautiful crimson robe covering her nightgown, Jace was still wearing his normal clothes, save for the cape. Once he was inside, she stood.

“How’s Luke?” she asked.

Jace made a face, shrugging. “Terrified, honestly. You know how he feels about this matter,” he explained.

Daenys hummed, cutting the distance between them. As soon as she was in front of him, Jace wrapped her in his arms.

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, drowning in each other’s familiar scents, with Jace’s face buried in her neck and her hands in his curls, Daenys spoke. “I don’t want to go,” she confessed, and she sounded just like she had all those years before, except this time it was the opposite situation. She had been holding her feelings in all day but now, in Jace’s arms, she felt safe enough to let them out.

“I know,” he murmured back. “I’m not too excited about it either.”

When Daenys spoke again, she was crying.

“Am I horrible?”

As soon as he heard her broken voice Jace broke the embrace, only to gently grab her face as his brow furrowed in worry.

“No! Of course not, why do you think that?”

He caught a tear with his thumb as it slid down her cheek.

“I don’t know, I— I haven’t seen them in years, and when the opportunity arises I would rather just not go. And I’m worried about Luke, and I don’t want your mother to get upset, and—.”

“Shh…” Jace soothed her gently, noticing the way her anxiety was starting to escalate. He put his forehead against hers, and Daenys closed her eyes. Outside, Ser Lorent peeked discreetly, just to check in on them. “Listen to me. Whatever Vaemond Velaryon has to say, it will be to no avail. My mother will defend Luke and put an end to all of this once and for all. And… I know it is difficult for you to see everybody again, but you will not be alone this time, hm? I will be with you. We will all be with you.”

Daenys had spent her entire life trying to feel like she belonged. Somewhere. Anywhere. Neither from here, nor from there. Always adjusting, fitting in, packing up, looking for a spot.

For many years, the only moment she was able to achieve that feeling was when riding Silverwing, hence her passion for spending her days on dragonback. Whenever she rode her dragon, she felt like a part of her that was never good enough for anyone was restored: bad daughter, bad sister, bad princess, good dragonrider. And so, she had decided that her place in the world was on her dragon’s back.

Jace had changed her mind.

He wasn’t just kind, or gentle, or good. He knew her; really knew her. And every new part of her she showed him, no matter how ugly, or embarrassing, or despicable, he embraced it. Loved it.

Daenys belonged on her dragon’s back, but she also belonged in Jace’s arms.

I love you, she thought.

“You are too good,” she said instead, still sniffling but much calmer.

Jace smiled before softly kissing her forehead. “And you worry too much. It isn’t so bad, actually. I think I’ll find enjoyment in showing off my betrothed around the court.”

This made Daenys smile, a beautiful shade of pink bringing her cheeks to life. “I’m sure all the girls will bat their eyelashes at you as soon as they see you,” she said. “And the women.”

Jace chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let them. They can bat their eyelashes all they want. Besides, they’ll be too busy being envious of how beautiful you are.”

Daenys shook her head, but her beaming smile and the way she couldn’t hold Jace’s gaze for a second showed how much she loved his flattery.

She kissed his cheek, and Ser Lorent cleared his throat outside.

Jace sighed.

“I must go. I’ll come for you in the morning.”

“Sleep well,” she said as he softly kissed her hand.

Jace smiled at her once more before finally walking out the door, leaving her alone again in her chamber.

As she settled into bed, trying to find sleep quickly, she didn’t think of Vaemond Velaryon, her mother’s frown, or the politics of the realm. Instead, the only thing on her mind was kind brown eyes and the smell of leather and salt water.

_______________________________________________

If you liked this, let me know in any way! 💕

Also, thank you so much for all your kind comments! If I'm missing someone who wants to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Series Taglist: @void21, @burningwitchobject, @hellish-idiot, @inf4ntdeath, @klutzylaena, @swimmjacket , @helo1281917 , @cat-winter

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x oc #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd #knuckles bruised (like violets)

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simp-ly-writes · 6 days ago

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When All That's Left is Love

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.9)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: After everything you both had been through; the pain, the torment, the utter longing, you and Jayce can only find your love leftover in the post-war rubble and go on to find various ways to show each other that your love is truly enough.

─ · · THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADLUTS AND IS NOT MEANT FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. skip the smut once seeing the star! ⭐️ tags under cut

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective! jealous! possessive(?)! Jayce, fluff, emotional angst (happy tears*), Evren (OC), kissing, teasing, swearing, brief descriptions of an anxiety attack, mentions of death and war, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce, not beta read. smut: unprotected pinv sex (be safe please!), oral (fem receiving), dom!Jayce, almost caught, chocking, marking/biting, size kink?, hand kink?, dirty talk, aftercare.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,456 |

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: a gift from me to you~ (gosh i'm so in love 😫🫠)

─────── · ·

─ · · Evren had come by near the end of breakfast as he helped ensure there would be no leftovers. He offered a giddy smile before stuffing his face and licking the plate clean. You sighed, disappointed, I was really looking forward to those waffles later. You feel Jayce's stare on you, catching your sad look as you stare at Evren's plate longingly. "Want to get ready together?" You feel Jayce hot breath whisper into your ear, you turn your head over your shoulder and nod as Jayce pulls your chair out and you both head down the hall.

"Would you mind helping me to the market? I used up the last of the eggs," Ximena asked, grabbing Evren's arm. "Of course, gorgeous," is the last thing you hear Evren say to Xiema before the bathroom door closes.

"You really are okay with Evren flirting with your mom?" you question as Jayce shrugs his shoulders, "my mom has better taste than him." Your jaw drops, "Jayce!" you shout before cracking up and Jayce can't help but laugh as well.

─ · · You and Jayce proceeded to get ready in the bathroom... or well, at least you tried too, Jayce on the other hand seemingly couldn't allow you to focus on anything but keeping his touch on you; pulling your head in his direction for a kiss before wrapping his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder as he looked at you both through the mirror with a grin- kissing you on the cheek. "Jayce! I can't get ready if you're all over me like this."

Jayce sighs, peeling his head away yet his arms and chest still block you against the vanity. "Someone's desperate for attention," you mumble underneath your breath, bending down as Jayce groans, not knowing that you would pay for your words and actions later.

You look for your hair product in the cabinet but just as you feel his hips roll into your backside you stand up straight and continue your routine- refusing to even make eye contact with him in the mirror.

With a huff Jayce pulls off his shirt before walking over to the shower albeit it slowly- knowing that the moment you saw skin, your attention was drawn to his back muscles flexing as he reached over to adjust the temperature and the small chain that dangles around his neck, you raise your brow curious as to what it is.

Steam begins to fill the small space as he turns around, bare chest brushing up against your covered one to grab a towel. Your hand grasped his side, eyes connecting with your promise ring dangling from his neck- you blink away the memories of that moment before trailing your hand slowly around and down to his stomach as you bite your lip, looking up at him.

Jayce says nothing, simply unbuckling his belt but before you can remove your hand he grasps your wrist, pulling it back to rest on his abs in a silent demand before you hear the leather slipping through the belt loops and crashing against the floor. You feel a wave of emotions come over you as your cheeks warm, your eyes not knowing where to rest upon as Jayce stares down at you, his body taking up your frontal vision and your hand so close to his- you simply stare up at the ceiling trying to calm yourself with deep breaths, I have work I need to get done today, I have work to do, I have-

─────── · · ⭐️

You feel Jayce's lips against your exposed neck feeling as he smiles against your skin once hearing you moan, fuck, that you quickly try and cover with your other hand. "God you're so beautiful," Jayce murmurs- his hands reach up your shirt leaving you gasping as he gropes your chest and feels for a clasp. Your hand slips from your mouth, "Jayce" you whisper-shout his name slowly in warning your yet it comes out more like a plea.

"Mhmm?" He murmurs, lips finding your cheek trailing down to your chin and across to your lips. You feel his breath, hot and heavy as he speaks softly to you, "I know you worked so hard on your make-up and hair darling, I won't mess it up, promise." You feel as he pulls away, your eyes opening as he pats the counter, "sit."

You stare for a moment, thighs clenching together, you can feel your core start to throb in want as Jayce watches the gears turn in your head, "just want to make you feel good, sweetheart." You cover your face with your palms, shaking your head, trying to regain your rationale mind but all you can think about us how good his fingers would feel stretching you out, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing your clit, the feeling of his beard scratching the skin between your thighs- you groan before lifting yourself onto the counter, looking at Jayce with pleading eyes.

Jayce rubs his palms up and down your thighs, feeling as they tremor in wait, the material of your nightgown starts to bunch up at the top of your waist exposing your wet folds soaking through the fabric of your undergarments. You shiver feeling the ghost of his knuckle teasingly swipe up and down your folds, "this wet for me already?" you nod, staring down at his hands watching the veins that bulge across the back of them and how they run up his forearms, you bite your lip remembering all the nights you fantasized about those exact hands helping you to reach your release and how many times your own fingers failed to compare.

You wiggle against the countertop in need, ready to start begging and by the look in Jayce's darkening eyes, he expects you to beg for him. "please just touch me, please," you press yourself against his hand, rotating your hips as he pushes the heel of his palm against your clit, you groan once finally finding friction to soothe the ache within you.

Jayce pulls his hand as you hump air for a second ready to complain before feeling as Jayce pulls down your ruined panties, casting them aside with his belt. Two large fingers circle around your leaking hole, the first knuckles sneaking in to gather your wetness before carrying it up to clit- pinching it and getting you to whine. When Jayce beings to rub, your head soon feels too heavy for your body- your forehead falling against his shoulder, "feels so good, Jayce," you hum into his ear, he smiles at the praise, "missed my fingers-hm?"

"mhmm, so much, Jayce. Just didn't feel the same," Jayce's movements pause again and you are beyond frustrated, reaching down to move his hand but Jayce remains firm, looking at you in the eyes with a strong, no.

"Who touched you here? tell me," Jayce asks, taking his attention away from your clit and instead entering your hole, filling you slowly before stopping halfway seeing as you don't answer him, "who fucked this pussy?"

"Only you since then Jayce, promise, only you," you feel yourself drip down your thighs as you pray for another finger to further the already delicious stretch you feel. "So this is mine?" you nod your head frantically feeling that third finger prodding at your entrance, the stretch a pleasurable burn as you grip his forearm, "all yours" you moan out feeling as he fully pulls his fingers out before filling you quickly and roughly.

"Mine to finger?" he kisses you once, another thrust, "yes," you whisper against his lips.

"Mine to fuck?" his kiss lingers, teeth pulling at your lip, "yes," you moan out, feeling his other hand move to place pressure againat your clit in small circular motions. The steam of the room coats your mind in a foggy haze of pleasure.

"Mine to cum in?" you clench down on his fingers, hard. Jayce presses his head against your own, breaths ragged, you feel across his chest down to his abs as he continues to fuck you with his fingers feeling as his muscles tense with every breath he takes.

Sparks explode across your hot skin that quickly turn into flames as you wiggle your hips, chasing your impending release. "Did you dream of me, baby? Me filling you up? Stretching you out? Reaching parts inside of you that no one else could? Marking you with my-"

"Jayce!" you yell, his words inciting your orgasm to come crashing down as you moan and whine against him yet Jayce only quickens his pace, slamming his fingers in and out of your gushing hole, the entire scene obscene as you flush at the squelching sounds of your lingering orgasm.

Your thighs are shaking as the once pleasurable burn turns into painful sensitivity, you tap Jayce's back three times getting him to stop. You watch as he slowly pulls his fingers out of your dripping cunt and see the way that they gleam underneath the artificial lights.

"My messy girl," Jayce belittles you, licking your release off of his fingers slowly, enjoying the taste thoroughly before bending down and forcing your knees apart, "let me clean you up?" he asks, looking up at you with large and shining hazel eyes- pleading.

How could you refuse that look? Grabbing him by his curly brown locks you lead his face towards your sex, withering and learning back against the cool mirror once feeling his rough tongue take a long lick up your slick. "J-jayce~" you sob his name and feel his moan vibrate your clit, your ankles lock behind his back, pushing him further into you.

Jayces hands grip your thighs tightly, you know marks will appear later but how could you care when he was making you see literal stars as you blinked looking up into the light fixture, lost in pleasure. "I'm gonna cum... a-almost there," you look down meeting his eyes as his tongue enters your hole making sure to gather every last drop of your previous orgasm.

You open your mouth in a silent scream, gripping his hair as he groans, nose rocking against your clit as your muscles clench- your orgasm rocking through every vein in your body, tingling and coming to life as your breaths become short and staggered before hitching as Evren calls your name from the front door.

You freeze, trying to pull Jayce away yet he just shakes his head, continuing to lap up your cunt as you plead at him, "J-jayce I-ah," you whisper through moans trying to wiggle yourself away but only finding yourself sitting more on his face, his hands squeezing and gripping your ass in warning.

You breathe out a sigh in relief once feeling him pull away, not bothering to wipe his mouth as he pulls you in for a kiss- tasting your release on his lips. You push your hands at his chest, needing air as he kneads your muscles, "I have to go see him," you try and explain to Jayce, feeling as he rocks his covered bulge against your prepared entrance. "Yeah? you need to go see him?" Jayce counters while starting to pull your night gown and bra with it over your head.

"I-I thought you said you weren't going to mess up my look," you try and counter with pout and glare once seeing your reflection in his dark eyes. Jayce smiles softly, "you're glowing, my love." You shake your head with a sigh, "I just came twice Jayce, I'm covered in sweat-there's a difference," you try and explain yet Jayce only shakes his head, kissing you to effectively shut you up. You hear Evren yell your name again, the front door slamming closed as his footsteps continue inwards into the apartment.

"He'll leave soon," Jayce explains as you listen to him unzip his pants, feeling as he rubs his length across your slick before feeling the tip of his cock poke at your hole- threatening to enter. Jayce tilts your head to the side, brushing your hair away before kissing up your neck to behind your ear, biting down on your lobe and whispering inside, "say you don't want this and I'll stop so you can go say hi to your friend."

You sigh frustrated, Jayce knows what he's doing, knows that your need is speaking louder than your brain. Evren will leave... right? "I need you Jayce," you confirm feeling as your hole wraps around the head of his cock, sucking him in. Jayce curses underneath his breath, knuckles turning white as he grips the countertop. "You have to relax for me, sweetheart. A bit too tight," Jayce says, biting his lip listening to you whine and force yourself to relax.

Jayce sighs, pushing himself in inch by inch, the time apart and the prep from his fingers could only do so much to fit you around his girth as you hissed, nails clawing into his back as he rocked you both gently to start. A hairbrush of yours falls and clatters against the tiled floors. Jayce leans forwards- sinking deeper into you, pressing a kiss to your nose before leaning down and leaving wet hot kisses against your shoulder.

"Hows it feel? you doing okay?" a knuckle gently brushing up and down your spine as you shiver and wiggle your thighs around his waist, "feels... good, so good, Jayce. So deep- thank you, Jayce, thank you," you cry out in bliss feeling him rock into you again, your walls aching with need.

"Yeah? This what you needed-hm? Just cock in you to make you relax?" You lean forwards pressing a kiss to his arm- not trusting your words as only moans come out of your mouth in between gasps of air as he forces himself in you again and again... a knock at the bathroom door sounds. You freeze yet Jayce keeps fucking you, uncaring as he smirks and looks down at you, wondering when you'll tell him to stop.

You stare at him blankly, a harsh snap of his hips has you about to moan yet he places his lips quickly against your own to muffle the sound, "quiet" he hisses into your ear afterwards. You paw at his arms, mind half filled with desperation for him to fill you, the other side to wanting to pull away. You close your eyes, thankful for the shower still being on but praying for Evren to just walk away.

Jayce begins to rub at our clit, your hands fall off Jayce's arms as you arch your back, leaning against the counter. After hearing nothing for a little while you look up at Jayce, I'm close, you try and whisper to him before biting back another moan- feeling as your eyes well with tears.

Jayce removes his hand from your clit, grabbing your waist as he starts to fuck you harder, hips slamming into your own as Jayce chases his own release.

You can barley contain yourself as you cry out in pleasure, mind fully gone, only thoughts of your impending orgasm clouding over. Jayce watches as your eyes roll into the back of your head, the way your chest bounces with every thrust of his cock into your leaking core. You feel as his hand snakes its way up between your breasts before gently gripping the sides of your throat in warning.

Another knock sounds, this time louder, "Hey, you doing okay? I'm gonna head to the library, take it easy today alright?" Evren says, voice close to the door. Jayce pulls your neck towards him, your eyes looking into his own as he squeezes again in warning before slowly releasing his grip. You clear your throat yelling, "Okay Ev! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"See you then!" you hear him tap the door twice in goodbye before locking your front door again. You collapse against Jayce's chest, moaning loudly, "Did that turn you on, sweetheart? Having someone almost hear me fucking you... could have seen my fucking you? Making them know that I'm yours and you're only mine?"

"Fuck, Jayce! Yes," you wiggle your hips meeting his thrusts, "just want to be yours." Jayce kisses you harshly feeling your thighs lock around him as you near your peak. "Gonna let me cum inside you?"

"Yes, please Jayce," you cry out. "Want to feel me coating your insides? Making you mine?"

"Mhmm!" you shake in his arms that wrap around your back, holding you upright as you feel him twitch within you, you gasp feeling your own orgasm rake over your body as you shudder against his chest, tears dripping down your cheeks as you mumble incoherently once feeling him fill you up with jagged thrusts, "s-such a good girl, so perfect for me," he stutters into a growl feeling as you clench down harder at the sound, effectively milking him dry.

You both lean against one another's hot and sticky skin. Jayce presses a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair away from your face as he checks you over quickly, your heart aches at how quickly he changes personalities before picking you up by the back of your thighs and carrying you into the shower, still connected. You hum once feeling the warm water coat your skin before feeling the cool tile against your back as Jayce steadies you, equally hissing while watching him pull out.

You feel your combined release drip from your hole and start to run down your thighs with the water. You gasp once feeling the rough pads of Jayce's fingers collect the mixture and stuff it back inside your sore opening as you grip his bicep and take deep breaths. "Can't waste it now," Jayce murmurs- you question if you can orgasm again from not being able to feel your legs... and then you suddenly remember all the papers you have to mark as post-orgasm clarity comes to the forefront of your thoughts. "May just need to fuck you again if you're still thinking about anything, relax, my love," Jayce, lovingly ridicules you, picking up your chin to press a gentle kiss to your puffy lips.

─────── · · ⭐️

You sigh- forcing your mind to numb as you watch Jayce lather and wash your skin before cleaning himself. You reach up and pull him forwards by his shoulders so that you can wash his hair, digging your nails into his scalp as he smiles contently, closing his eyes in pure bliss. You had never seen Jayce so utterly... relaxed. Your heart swells as you cares his jaw, running your thumb across his cheek, you didn't realize you said those words aloud before hearing Jayce's response, "only you could make me feel this and it is only you I would trust enough."

Your heart skips a beat, "I love you, Jayce."

"And I love you, Sweetheart, so incredibly much," you squeal once feeling his large hand hold the back of your head, pushing your lips together in a heated kiss. We're never getting out of here are we?

─────── · ·

─ · · Drying yourselves off you both helped each other to get dressed. Jayce's heart ached seeing that you had taken some of his clothes with you, "I found the smell comforting" you explain with a blush before throwing one of Jayce's shirts in his face. He quickly catches it before then and moves to press a kiss to the side of your head as you sort through what to wear for the day.

Sliding on your pants you fiddle around your drawers for a shirt, huffing frustratedly when you realize the shirt you wanted to wear was still drying. "How about that white one?" Jayce points while tucking in his shirt. You become distracted seeing his forearms on display as he reaches for his belt. Jayce tilts his head and looks at you, "You don't have to, sweetheart. Just thought it would go with your pants."

You grab the white shirt and blazer to go with it. Jayce places one of his cufflinks between his teeth, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he fiddles with the metal before moving to his other sleeve. He watches as you button up your shirt, confused as to why you still looked annoyed. "Can you turn around please?" you ask quietly, slipping your blazer on without even looking at him.

"Turn around? But we just... okay, are you doing alright, darling?" Jayce asks, you stare as he bends over and reaches for his own jacket on your bed watching all the material of his clothes perfectly contour his body. Jayce listens to you huff, "Stop it," you demand.

Jayce turns back around to find you choosing a pair of shoes before moving to sit in an armchair within the corner of your room, practically shaking. "Stop what?" he asks softly- not wanting to anger you further as he kneeling before you, placing your ankle on his knee before sliding your shoes onto your feet and lacing you in. He presses a kiss to your knee before picking up your other foot and doing the same.

You open and close your mouth annoyed by how good he looks while simply getting himself ready. The way he moves and flexes as if knowing you're watching. Jayce picks up your hands in between his own, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. "We can't get ready together again," you say before standing and picking up your jewellery from your nigh stand, hands shaking as you try and find the small clasp of your necklace behind your head before feeling Jayce's larger hands take the chain from your hands and clasp it together with ease before gently pulling your hair back into place.

"Why?" Jayce asks, hands rubbing up and down your sides as you both stand there silently and feel the suns warm kiss against your faces coming in between the blinds. "You're really distracting," you mumble underneath your breath before pulling away from his touch and heading outside the room. You listen as Jayce bursts out laughing- the sound of it echoing through the apartment before he takes a few large strides to meet back up with you at the front door.

─────── · ·

─ · · You take Jayce on a tour of the university campus, walking him around the greenhouse, pointing and explaining the various local fauna to him (yet also getting annoyed once noticing he was too busy staring at you instead of the flowers). "Jayce look! You can look at me whenever you want but not these," you try and explain. Jayce sighs looking at the flowers more closely, imagining how good they would look in your hair... fuck, I'm staring again, he thinks to himself.

You both are go un-noticing to the way a few of your students point and cover their mouths gasping and gossiping at the sight of your both together.

─ · · Next you take him into the library where you showed off your recently published studies with Evren. Jayce was so happy for you he nearly yelled while picking you up for a hug and giving you a little spin. His smile was intoxicating as he took the material off the shelf and started flipping through it.

You rested your head on his arm looking between his reaction and the pages as he pointed to the various diagrams you drew and the articles you collaborated on with utmost interest before gently placing it back on the shelf, squeezing your hand, "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart." You pulled him in for another hug, "thank you... it really means a lot."

"I'll say it a thousand more times since you deserve nothing but praise," you looked up, eyebrow raised as Jayce winked before pulling away, dragging your hand with him and back into the library's lobby where a small crowd had formed.

"Head Councillor! What brings you to the campus?" "Is it true that you slept with Councillor Medarda?" "When's the engagement?" "Can you let us know Piltovers plans for new trade?" "Do you still consider yourself, 'the man of progress'?" "Miss!" a hand reaches out to shake your own yet you quickly lace your fingers together and offer an anxious smile, taking a step slightly behind Jayce becoming worried as the crowd of journalists only seems to grow once discovering you.

Jayce looks down at you, trying to hold a smile while the lights flash in your face and various students begin yelling and complaining about the growing noise. Jayce shakes a few hands and waves away the questions with apparent ease yet you can see the way he grits his teeth, jaw tense as he constantly rings his fingers through his hair and grips your waist a bit too tightly, trying to lead you through the crowd and back to his hotel room so you both can get some work done today.

"Thank you all for your interest, but me and my partner here must get going-" Jayce begins to say, almost making it to the doors yet the question are a waterfall. "So you both are back together then?" "Why and when did the split happen?" "From partner to assistant, did you sleep your way to the top of society?" "Can we expect a wedding in the future?" "What about kids?" "Who is the heir to the House of Talis?" "Do you consider yourself distracted from your role?"

You start to feel sick, mind flashing back to all those sponsorship events you both used to attend. The seemingly never-ending curious eyes and hands- someone grabbed your elbow tugging you away from Jayce. You scream, threatening to fall back as a sea of reporters hold you upright... there are way to many hands touching me right now, your eyes go wide with panic as you begin to hyperventilate.

Fuck, where's Jayce? where is-, you blink through the masses trying to find Jayce, Evren, anyone you recognize before feeling your arm be tugged- firmly into a warm chest. Jayce shoves an on-coming reporter, taking deep breaths through his nose, eyes pointed and threatening as he opens the door for you and you both escape outside.

─ · · "Are you alright?" Jayce asks once you both are a distance away, "I'm sorry that happened. I had not considered that was the first time we had been publicly seen together since..." Jayce's voice trails off, his hand cupping the back of your head- eyes wide and glistening as he studies every micro-expression that crosses your features.

"I'm okay... just a bit... shaken-up after it all is all," you try and explain, reaching out to hold Jayce's hand hearing as he lets out a sigh of relief. "When you come back to Piltover, I'll make sure this doesn't happen."

"When I come to Piltover?" You raise a brow while holding a frown doing your best to hide the playful tease behind your eyes to appear pissed. Jayce opens and closes his mouth, removing the hand from your head to instead scratch at his neck, "I-uh, well, I was assuming, ass move of mine that-ah, you were coming back with me?"

You stare at him, tapping your foot with your arms crossed watching as he sweats, eyes frantic in panic before walking past him and in the direction of the hotel without another word with a smile. "Sweetheart(name)- please, I-I can stay here or visit, whatever works for you-" Jayce runs after you, hands extending yet pulling away quickly as he goes to touch you- unsure of how to not set you off further.

─────── · ·

─ · · When you get to the hotel doors, a staff member quickly ushers you both inside as you stand in the elevator, "what floor?" you ask in a cold tone as Jayce reaches over and hits number ten. You wait until the doors close before pulling Jayce by the lapels of his jacket and pressing a kiss close to his mouth before dropping your hold quickly and facing forwards.

Jayce stands there still leaning, shocked etched into every muscle as he blinks twice. "Where did that come from?" he whispers before standing up straight once hearing the doors chime open. You smile up at him innocently, adjusting the bag on your shoulder with nonchalance- waiting for him to unlock the door.

You watch as he fumbles for the key in his suit jacket before extending his arm through the doorway, allowing you to enter first before closing the door behind you both and taking your jacket to hang up in the entry way. You look around his organized room, picking up the random papers on his desk before falling onto his made bed and spreading out your arms with a sigh.

Jayce stands at the foot of the bed looking down at you in concern, "Jayce my love," you call out to him while observing his hopeful eyes. "Of course I'm coming back with you... I'd follow after you endlessly," you admit before feeling a dip in the bed as Jayce burrows his face into your stomach, you feel as he shakes his head, "can't believe you, toying with my poor heart," you hear him murmur.

"Would it also count as toying if I said I wanted my ring back?" you feel Jayce frees before pushing himself up and hovering above you. "Really?" he whispers, you can hear a younger Jayce in those words, see it in his bright eyes, feel it in the duvet as he rushes to unbutton his shirt and fish the chain out and over his head.

You sit up in the bed, leaning against the head board and presenting your hand not being able to contain the smile that spreads across your cheeks mirroring Jayce's grin as he slowly slides the band across your finger before leaning down to press a kiss against it.

You squeeze your hands together, closing your eyes to enjoy the moment as you hear laugh to himself in disbelief before hearing him choke into a sniffle. Your eyes flash open looking to see whats wrong watching as Jayce silently cries with a smile, gently shaking his head while staring at you with large hazel eyes that seemingly appear to be made out of gold from the sunlight flooding into the room. "Jayce," you softly call him name, feeling as your own eyes start to burn.

Jayce's eyes closes his eyes once hearing you say his name so sweetly, so full of love that his heart has his head falling to the bed as he grips your knees- posing as if to worship you. "Jayce?" you call out again, combing your fingers through his hair as he continues to quietly cry, "thank you," he says before picking up his head and trying to blink through the tears. You wipe your own away, reaching up to help him wipe them away as he does the same with choked chuckle.

"For what, darling?" you pose back.

"For loving me," Jayce moves his head to kiss your palm, taking a deep breath before continuing, "For allowing me back into your arms, for dealing with every ribbon and string that comes attached with me. For accepting me as enough even when I couldn't see it- can't see it-" You leap forwards and into Jayce's arms, sobbing into his shoulder and pressing a light kiss to his neck.

"Forever and always, Jayce. Until the end and whatever comes after that for us," you promise with a squeeze of your arms and another press of your lips to his skin feeling as Jayce nods, not being able to find the right words for the first time in his life in order to convey the utter relief he feels in this moment, feeling you in his arms, hearing your love in his ears, knowing that you both had finally gotten over the mountain and through every valley to come to this.

You both find yourself crying harder once feeling a cool breeze enter the room- bursting from a loose window and caressing your skin in a gentle embrace. Hello Viktor, you think to yourself, opening up your hand from Jayce's back, Thank you for returning him to me, you feel the cool air seep between your fingers before leaving like it never came.

"What do you think Viktor would think?" Jayce mumbles, playing with the seams on your shirt, you hum, starting at yourself through the mirror above the hotel desk. "I think he'd be happy for us," you respond, placing your hand back on Jayce's back, rubbing large circles with your palm feeling as he lets out a long breath, Thank you, Viktor, for allow me to see this, Jayce thinks to himself, Thank you.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: right in the feels am I right? AHHH 😭😭😭

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

329 notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 2 months ago

Text

THE BALL OF LIGHT, ii. | jjk

pairing: friend!jeongguk x fem!oc

genre: angst

word count: 4.2k

summary: inside jeongguk's apartment is where you meet the possibility of life.

pin: ball of light / taglist: join / discord: join / masterlist: run

cp: ao3 / wp

warnings: mentions of smoking and vaping, described nudity, oc feels a lot of emotions and she's overwhelmed, guilt.

note: i really enjoyed writing this chapter and it opened my eyes actually to where it's going. i hope you like the chapter as well. writing about jungkook is my biggest comfort. i feel at home. i love you, guys. happy reading. don't forget to tell me what you think. i'd appreciate it if you tell me ur expectations. <3

side note: i also want to update my taglist because i feel like most of the people i tag haven't allowed themselves to be tagged on this app. if you want to be tagged in my works, let me know. in comments below or my askbox.

It seems as though Jeongguk is still turning your words over his heart once you arrive at his apartment and the sullen grayness of his personal space greets you. A certain pensive look, embellished with a wrinkle between his brows, paints him in the shades of stark reclusiveness, the unapproachability of that façade the blue highlights that make the current inertia of his usual hyperactivity uncannily animated. It’s an oxymoron, the stillness of his being, despite the fact you very vividly sense the turmoil happening inside his chest.

Turmoil must be second-nature to him. Almost like a friend.

You don’t know what to say. The downturned corners of his mouth are so engraved into your vision that when you look away, you can still see them. Sad and pouty, caused in most probability by the truth you uttered. War happens, Jeongguk, if Yoongi and I see each other outside of the walls of our home. Those were the most heart-felt, authentic words that were flung out of the chambers of your heart because—yes, if Yoongi were to know that you smoke one cigarette a day with a boy with a nicotine-addiction, a motorcycle and a tendency to go back to people who have spread agony down his lungs like the white fumes of his cigarettes, he would get up from the kitchen table and grab the nearest knife, start a war for your dream that, according to him, got interrupted by temporary, meaningless things.

But Jeongguk isn’t meaningless. You thought for the longest time that he was temporary, but his lingering presence through high school and now through uni convinced you of the opposite. You believe now, now as he bends at the waist to place a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers with a yummy fried egg on top in front of your icy-cold, socked feet, that he has more shape—the eyes of an angel born wrong, born human, the mouth of a saint that fears to say the wrong thing—than your dream does.

Your dream doesn’t have a face.

Your dream doesn’t have a meaning, either.

Yoongi knows this, pretends he knows the contours of that dream when he tells you to go study. Pretends he knows the color of its flesh, all the greens, purples and blues, when the only words he throws your way are of commanding nature. Come eat. Go shower. Go study. Don’t. You can’t recollect the last time you had a genuine conversation with him that did not include those very words.

It’s exhausting. Your bones are burdened by it—by being treated as a student and not as a human being. But you ignore this because you respect him, hold him in high regard because of his own burden, laid heavy across the length of his shoulders that have become too thin, too skeletal, that have once been broad, beautiful and ogled by those, who had the luck to encounter him.

He doesn’t go to the gym anymore, to fill the mass of his muscles with exercise. He works long hours doing food delivery to fill your tummy instead.

And it’s hard—balancing your respect for him and your ostensibly inner desire to go in search of the things you read about in your books. You can’t help but expect to dig them out, selfishly, in Jeongguk. The kind, now somber, boy who has been by your side for so long. With words and simultaneously without.

Would Yoongi understand? Doesn’t he, also, have a need for company?

You push those thoughts away and focus on the clandestiny. On Jeongguk’s frown, on his adorable pout, on his emotions. Because perhaps in it you shall find your destiny.

Jeongguk walks forward and you swell with the guilty need to fix what you’ve broken, to glue back the pieces that put together his traditional cheer. The tree in you shivers in cold. Your own bones are still frosty like that bus stop you both escaped from. But glancing at the span of his shoulders, drooped and rolled forward, the guilt expands, making you think that maybe you shouldn’t have said something, despite the fact the truth made a dent in the birdcage you have been dwelling in since the death of your parents.

He empties out his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone, a pack of cigarettes, lighter and a pink, fat vape that you’ve never seen him smoking before. He places those essentials on the kitchen counter, stretching his hands backwards and ridding himself of his beige hoodie. The T-shirt he wears underneath rides up, exposing the smooth and muscled skin of his back, and your throat dries up at the sight. The tree stills, pacified by the movement of his shoulder blades. It puts a spell on you, this innocent yet consumingly heated view of a male’s body, one that continues burning down your body even when he grabs a hold of the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it down.

Somehow, the act made it hotter.

Your fingers wrap around your throat, a habit of yours that helps you compose yourself, ground yourself in the severity of the moment. Jeongguk reaches his hand towards the kitchen counter again and as you swallow with great difficulty, he fills his lungs with that scented fume before discarding it.

It isn’t until your breath comes out in pathetic staccatos that he turns around. Large eyes heavily lidded, clouded by that white smoke as he exhales. He purses his lips, dimples on full show, in order to make the smoke thinner. And that, the eye contact while blowing out the fumes, his full attention on you, the element that you’re here—in a boy’s apartment, all alone, for the first time, that warms up your bones, the frost melting away. You feel your body form little pearls of perspiration, overwhelmed and so suddenly overheated by his boyish beauty.

He’ll never know—just like Yoongi. He’ll never know what he does to you.

“I’m gonna make you some tea so you can get warm,” he says, softly, and shuffles his feet towards the brightly lit kitchen. You hear the water running, the clapping noise of the kettle being shut and then the boiling bubbles, but you’re frozen—red-hot and frozen—in the place you’re standing, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to be a normal human being. “You’re free to take a shower if you want.”

A headache pierces through your undeveloped frontal lobe. Nothing about this is normal to you—being over a guy’s place, using his shower and his towel, drinking his tea. Being at home all the time never prepares you for this and while you feel so out of place, it also evokes the feeling of thrill.

This is thrilling.

And it should stay feeling that way, but your guilt eclipses it so quickly. Your guilt and your self-pity. Due to Yoongi, due to the fact that this should feel normal and that you should act normally. How many girls must’ve been in your place and how well they were able to talk to him and accept his kindness and hospitality without being weird about it.

You run a hand down your face. Feel like crying. Feel like screaming. Feeling like slapping yourself so you snap out of it and act normal. Yoongi flickers in your chest, however, and you’re reminded that you should let him know where you are. Usually, at this hour, you’re settled in your cage. Right there in the corner, the only warm spot because you sit there all the time. But you’re not there. You fit your body through the slivers, your feet rubbing against the different, more warmer floor than the one inside your birdcage, while your wrist remains chained to the center.

Your bus, the number 59, never came. Jeongguk’s, number 60, was the last one that came due to the thickness of the snow and he said that you should get on with him so you don’t freeze on the bus stop. I’ll drive you home on my bike, he promised. I got a helmet for you. And you agreed, despite the fact your thumb was ready to dial Yoongi’s number, because it came natural to you to follow a male’s order.

You scratch your fingernails through your scalp, waking yourself up from the stupor, and you take a deep breath. You’re here and you’re safe. Jeongguk is the safest person you can go behind Yoongi’s back with. These are the words you internally repeat to yourself as you lift one leg and the other, watching where they take you.

You wind up at the very edge of the counter where all of Jeongguk’s essentials lay scattered. You go to study all the charms hung over his keys when your fingers, somehow instinctively, take a hold of his pink vape. Light and pink, fitting just right in the palm of your hand. Your clandestine habits are invariably seen by Jeongguk, however.

“Don’t puff on that,” he says, pouring the boiling water inside the kettle over your cup of tea. A Christmas-themed one, evidently for adults only. The taupe Gingerbread man has a raging, bare boner that sticks out to the side whilst his hands are lifted, cheerfully, in the air. Your mouth parts, blush coloring your cheeks in dusty pink, and your brain, bizarrely, connects the Gingerbread man’s emotion to Jeongguk—both emotions, in fact. So bizarrely that anger begins to grow in you because a picture of Jeongguk’s own happy boner pops up before your eyes. Big, hard, leaking. Your stifling heat descends to your lower regions and you have to rub your eyelids in order to stop seeing it, your cheeks scalding, embarrassingly hot. “It’s not good to mix it.”

Without asking, he places one spoon of sugar inside that obscene cup, stirring it diligently. And the clinking noise rams a clapping monkey inside your brain.

You’ll die. From this headache, from the heat, from how irresistible this boy is.

You’ve never felt this way before towards him. Never seen him in this lustful light before. And you don’t know what to do—it’s towering you, so much bigger than you and you have very little strength to stand up to it.

It’s not good to see your so-called friend like this.

Jeongguk brings the cup over to you, placing it before his stuff. The Gingerbread man faces you, smiling ever so gleefully, and the blush of your cheeks deepens within this proximity. Jeongguk takes his vape from your hand and puffs on it—and your brain remembers what he just talked about.

“But you mix it,” you say, your words dripping with confusion, and Jeongguk places the device back into your palm, the tips of his fingers brushing against your flesh. You regard it as intimate, that brief physical contact, and it speeds up your heartbeat.

That touch-starved you are.

“I shouldn’t, but I do,” he responds, his pretty eyelashes static, unblinking, those macadamia chocolate pools of his penetrating your pupils. “I try to stick to just one from time to time, but my nerves are asking for more.”

You look down at the pink device, imagine it’s his hand that you’re closing your fingers over. Think his explanation has zero backbone, and so your confusion drips on.

“Nerves?” you inquire, a wrinkle appearing between your brows akin to his, even though his has been smoothed out. It seems his act of service to you is slowly easing his sombreness.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to elaborate, though. He flicks his eyes towards the cup and nods, just once, encouraging you to drink. You let out a quiet huff of a scoff. Consider it strange that he’s so unwilling to expand on this matter when he has shared with you in the past the reason behind his smoking habit. Trauma from his relationship with Ka-eun and the difficulty of his field. What else is behind those nerves of his that you can’t know about?

You follow the trace of his gaze towards the cup, feeling smaller than you are. Incompetent, inexperienced for the vivacity, immensity of his life that looks nothing like yours. Your pointer finger pokes out, clicking against the emerald green handle.

“Am I supposed to really drink from this?” you murmur, meaning it as a joke that would fix what you cooked in this situation, but it comes out much sadder than you planned, the hollowness from all of your lacks coating your vocal cords.

Jeongguk scowls and turns the cup around, his brows springing upwards as he glances at the naked and aroused Gingerbread man. You begin to anticipate his laughter that would make you feel worse about yourself, but it never breezes through.

Actually, Jeongguk apologizes. Makes a big deal out of it.

“My God,” he sighs, adding your name, running his fingers through his hair before he puts the cup away, but you stop him by enveloping your fingers across the warm, naked skin of his forearm. His eyes widen en route to yours and he holds the misting cup in his hand, immune to its hot temperature. The good ones don’t get burned, your mother would say with hatefulness whenever your fingers would get burned by steaming cups and hot running water in the sink, and she proves you right in this moment. You bet she smiles in her grave, seeing from the afterlife that you are indeed bad while the others are good. “I didn’t notice. I have one just like this, but he’s dressed. I thought I’d pulled out that one. I’m sorry.”

But you’re not scandalized by it. As a matter of fact, you like the little Christmas man—there’s something oddly comforting about his own comfort in his sexuality, smiling as gleefully as he is. What you said was a stupid joke, one that shouldn’t have left your mouth.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s fine. It was just a joke,” you say, hurriedly, sweeping your eyes over his in the same pace whilst he remains calmly staring at you, a steady stream of thoughts filtering through those features of his that you wish you knew the contents of.

You always said you’d die for knowledge, and right now you’d die to discover what he’s thinking about, looking at you the way that he is.

He flattens his lips. “I’ll make you another one.”

He turns around and you yelp your disagreement, cupping your hands around his. And the greater intimacy of this physical contact consumes you whole.

The heat grows, your spine wet with perspiration. Jeongguk swivels his head back, the shorter pieces of his hair swooshing past his forehead, landing on those pretty, pretty eyelashes. And it’s his turn to part his mouth, for blush to creep up his pale cheeks, and your heart—it melts.

You’ve never held hands with a boy before. And right now, you’ve come very close to doing it. In fact, the tender grip bears the resemblance of hand holding and you can’t take it.

A pained, indistinct pout quivers on your lips. A characteristic expression of yours, which conveys that something has hurt you. Your mother would give you a hard time because of it and that’s how you learned that you do it. That’s how you learned how to fleetly hide it, too.

This is the closest you’ll ever get.

Tears rush to your waterline. You blink it away, stretching your lips into a little, neutral smile. The scent of cinnamon and cloves from the tea hits your nostrils and from the edges of your palms, you feel how hot the cup really is. It sobers you up quite rapidly.

“It’s hot, set it down,” you breathe and don’t let go of his hands until Jeongguk complies, the pensiveness back to shadowing his face, but he’s not unapproachable, not at all. The entirety of his dispirited and contrite aura is welcoming, pastel blue instead of that grayish undertone, and he looks at you as if you held the entire world in your palms and he was content with just being near it, silently hoping you show him grace and give it to him.

But that’s not you. You’re too small to cup this world. Too stupid, too unfledged.

It’s him who’s flown around it, deeply acknowledged with it. Who’s smart, who’s a full-fledged bird, unlimited and unhindered.

It’s you who should be looking at him like that and drinking from his vulgar cup.

And you shall.

“I’ll drink it, it’s cute.”

He doesn’t trust it, though, and that’s the scar Ka-eun carved into the flesh of his mind. You brush the pads of your fingers across it, however, when you take the scalding cup to your lips, blow on it and take a small, hesitant sip of it. And the wintry taste of cinnamon and cloves, it is the sap to your tree.

You hum in delight, taking another sip, even though the temperature burns the tip of your tongue. You watch as Jeongguk’s brows twitch and as a certain glimmering glint of endearment laced with unbelief fills his eyes with the canvas of stars. He straightens his spine while you swallow, his lungs inhaling and exhaling slowly but surely.

It is a sight to behold, the entirety of his boyish beauty. And you hate that you regard him this way, that your forced visit caused this because you’ll walk out of this door with a longing entwined around your heart.

A longing for him to be yours.

You set the cup down, cradling it in your palms, your sweat clinging to your body. Jeongguk averts his gaze and rubs his chest, roaming his eyes everywhere but on you, landing on the pink vape you placed on the counter before almost-holding his hand.

But he doesn’t take a puff of it. Not this time.

And you want to heal that scar of his even more. Only because he pushed you very close to the things you read in your books and always wanted to experience.

“I think the tea tastes so good because you made it in this cup,” you chirp, tenderly, giving him a genuine smile, one that Jeongguk doesn’t reciprocate. That one corner of his mouth doesn’t lift, the long cleft of his dimple doesn’t appear. Your heart trembles for a brief moment. In a foreign kind of emotion that feels like fear but isn’t because the turmoil in him rages on and you’re useless. Completely and utterly useless in your efforts.

His stare is deadly, marked by the depth of his thoughts.

“Why did you say war happens if you and your brother see each other outside?” he asks, his tone low and grumbling.

A frightening question. Because no one has ever asked you that. Because you’ve never had the chance to answer such an intimate, personal question. Because no one has ever cared about your home situation.

The trembling of your heart reaches your entire body and you hide your hands behind your back. Lament that you can’t cradle the cup. Lament that you can’t drink it and postpone your response. Lament that you don’t have a normal life. One worth talking about happily, that is.

You don’t know what to say. How to begin, how to string the words together in a way that he would understand. And it’s not that you fear that he will judge you; it’s that you fear that the way he looks at you, regards you will forever change.

You were never the cool girl and you never were the weird girl, either. Somewhere in the middle you stand, solitary and detached, regardless.

You open your mouth, willing the words to spring out of you on their own, without any careful thoughts to cover them.

“Yoongi wants me to live a life that doesn’t look like this,” you start, mirroring his tone, unable to look him in the eye. You sense the demons of your guilt and your ungratefulness cornering you, coming closer and closer—and you can’t walk away, you can only speak.

Jeongguk, however, is quick and curt with his following question.

“Like what?”

The pearls of your perspiration thicken on the planes of your throat, which constricts. You blink, thinking that you don’t wish to offend him with any formulation of your sentences. So you go around it, hoping he understands. The demons inch closer—and you can’t breathe.

Jeongguk doesn’t blink, focused intently as he is on the emotions written on your form. It creates a delicate, yet protective ring around you that keeps the demons outside. And he lessens your strange fear owing to that.

“He wants me to focus on school and focus on my dream while he takes care of everything else. It was a deal he made between us. I study, he works. Nothing else,” you continue, and Jeongguk bites his lip, nodding in understanding as he glides his eyes down your face to your sweat-coated neck. For some reason, that little act of his acknowledgement dispels those demons—and you no longer feel guilty, you no longer feel ungrateful because Jeongguk validated those emotions, didn’t scrunch his nose at them. And that heals, little by little, your wounded, flightless bird wings.

“What does your dream look like?” he asks once again, and you wonder at the formulation of his question. It’s not what’s your dream; he’s asking for a description of the biggest mystery of your life.

And you chuckle, humorlessly. Jeongguk flicks his gaze back to your eyes, seemingly not knowing what to expect.

“That’s the thing,” you say. “I don’t know what it looks like, and Yoongi doesn’t know either.”

The roundness of his eyelids spasms, as if the truth you just uttered irks him. The validation grows and buds of blossoms sprout open, in the middle of this sunless winter, upon the twigs of the tree within you.

“He doesn’t know what your dream is and yet he decided how you should live,” Jeongguk scoffs, shaking his head, and you marvel at the light bursting in your sternum. It is the sun to your growth, to your tree’s growth.

A moment of bliss that is too brief, for you begin to sense an uncompromising responsibility to stand up for your brother. He means well—he’s doing it out of the love and kindness of his heart as the root of this declared problem is literature.

And literature is your life. It’s all you know.

You begin to say these words, but Jeongguk interrupts you.

“I understand, but you need to live a life that you want to live,” he rasps, standing taller than he was a minute ago, greater and powerful than he ever was. That confident and assured he is in his opinion and you gawk at him as if he were a cult leader, about to change the course of your life. Maybe, just maybe, the cinnamon tea was the kool aid—and you want to drink again, but you’re ashamed of the trembling of your hands. “And if you feel like you’re indebted to him, you shouldn’t. You’re an adult. It’s your life, it’s not his just because he’s older.”

Your throat dries and you risk it all, enveloping your fingers around the cup. Jeongguk’s all seeing eye notices your movement and his powerfulness drops. He sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Bare, bare you are all for him to see. For anyone for the first time in your life—and at this point, you don’t even know how it makes you feel.

Where light and so many emotions were inside you, emptiness falls like fine dust. You’re reminded of that one sentence in White Nights and, quietly, you reflect on it while your fingers tremble on.

My God, a moment of bliss. Why isn’t that enough for a whole lifetime?

Jeongguk makes space, like the ring of protection he created around you, by taking a few steps back and leaning against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest and simply looks at you, reads your body language, and lingers at your hands. At the fact you don’t drink. At the fact you don’t speak. At the fact that nothing will ever be the same after this conversation.

When he asks his last question, he softens his voice. His demeanor, too. Allows his arms to plummet down to his sides. Sags against the counter.

“He doesn’t know we’re friends, does he?”

Something that resembles a cry leaves your mouth and you’re so shocked by the freedom of your emotions that your hand leaps to cup your mouth, as if to hold back any more outpouring. That is your reaction.

Jeongguk’s is more earth-shattering.

By his instinct, he lengthens his spine and his hand… his beautiful, strong and veiny hand jerks towards your direction, as if to catch your hand, prevent it from hiding your outpouring—or as if to catch your outpouring alone.

And it is so heartbreaking to you that you mutter the first thing that comes to your mind and run away.

And you don’t realize where you are until you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. A mascara tear stains your cheek in blackness, and the smallness of the bathroom encloses around you.

You want to wash it away. Feel like the decision is yours to make, a right one at that. Feel like it’s the first step in the new way Jeongguk bestowed over your life by his wise words. And so you undress.

And you don’t lock the door.

And you don’t hear your phone ringing ten minutes later.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

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