#just wish there were more places to live for younger people

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Am Forever Yours (part 3)

Day 6: Reputation

Summary: They assumed.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1092

Warnings: snobby, jealous ladies trynna bully yn but yn is a badass 😏, i think kinda oc lucien cus he hasnt fucked around at all heheheeheheheheh

A/n: look i just find people who wait till marriage to have intimate relations to be adorable and neat 🥹

(its me im neat and my future husband better be too 🤭)

edit: if you saw me edit the last line to add in a dialogue no u didnt 😇

@lucienweekofficial

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n knew there were quite a few ladies who would kill to be in her place. After all, becoming the bride of one of the princes was no small matter. Especially when said prince was the most charming gentleman the kingdom had ever seen.

Royal and elite families, even from neighbouring kingdoms, as well as more potential brides had all been invited to the wedding. And where there was a wedding, there was a gathering of the ladies. And where there were ladies gathered, there were rumours spreading.

And Y/n found herself in such a setting the night before her wedding, and the topic of discussion, unfortunately, was her husband.

"Did you know he lives amongst the poor?"

"I cannot fathom why he would do that."

"Does he not get to spend like his brothers?"

"Poor him. I heard he might be a bastard child, and that is why he’s always left out of things."

Y/n heaved a frustrated sigh. From the past hour, she had been sitting here courtesy of her mother’s scoldings on propriety and etiquette, and if she left in the middle of the tea party after dinner it would be disrespectful. That the ladies would think marrying a prince got to her head and she thinks them beneath her.

One of the younger ladies’s giggles caught Y/n’s attention, and she turned to look at what was so funny.

"You know, there are rumours that he has fire in his veins."

High pitched giggles followed that statement, and Y/n’s cheeks burned from the implications in that statement.

Am I being too dirty minded?

But the next second, her worries were blown away by the words of an entirely too smug lady who sat closer to Y/n. "Oh, believe me, he does."

The others in their little group gasped, beginning to hound her for information.

"Did you have him in your bed?"

Y/n clenched her jaw just imagining such an erotic scene, pulse spiking.

"Oh no, I am not so fortunate. But I have surely dreamed about it and heard from others."

It gave Y/n little peace knowing that even though he might not have slept with others, people drooled over him still. She wanted to chide herself for having such thoughts, considering she had only met Lucien at that ball a month ago and was not even married yet.

But not for long, she reminded herself. The wedding would be tomorrow, and then she would have all rights to be possessive over him.

"Lady Oak, you are far too lucky. How did you even get him to agree to your proposal?"

Y/n blinked, meeting the eyes of the lady who grinned at her fiendishly. Her eyes narrowed.

Her name must be husband stealer or something.

She snorted at her own thoughts when another lady who looked younger than her piped up.

"Is it because your father is the advisor and the king forced him?"

Y/n fisted her hand, smiling sweetly. "Oh no, quite the opposite actually."

Husband-stealer laughed. "Oh, so prince Lucien asked your father for your hand? Can’t be, for he has been known to reject proposals left and right."

"Oh, did he reject your proposal too?"

Y/n leaned back in her cushioned chair, innocently gazing at husband-stealer as colour darkened her face, anger evident in every part of her body.

"That does not matter. He does not seem the type to stay with one partner forever anyways."

"You do not have to worry about his betrayals for you are not the one going to be affected by it."

Husband-stealer stood abruptly, glaring at Y/n for a moment before announcing she was going to retire to her room to her companions who did not bother to wish her back and focused on Y/n.

Another win, Y/n thought with a smirk.

"When did you meet him?"

"Last month during the ball he approached me, and when I told him to basically leave me alone, he asked for my hand in marriage. My father said yes."

"And you had no problem?"

Y/n’s smile turned genuine thinking about Lucien stalking up to her father and talking to him with his usual charm. She remembered very vividly how her father’s eyes had widened and he had stuttered through a response, his lips spreading in a grin.

"No. I had only seen him that day and I knew he would be the best suitor. Moreover, I trusted my father’s judgement."

The younger girls sighed in wonder, their eyes glazing over as they themselves imagined themself in her position.

Hiding her grin, Y/n stood, bidding them goodbye before making ehr way to her own bridal suite, anticipation building in her gut.

Tomorrow.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lady Oak, you are far too lucky. How did you even get him to agree to your proposal?

Somehow, after a whole day had passed, after the wedding officiant had pronounced Lucien and Y/n husband and wife, after the reception and dinner party, husband-stealers’ words came back to Y/n.

Was she not right for Lucien? Had he made a mistake? Would he doubt their marriage just as the ladies had?

"Y/n?"

She turned to her new husband, who grinned at her, holding open the door to their bed chamber. She tried to smile back, but of course, even under the dim lighting of the corridor, Lucien saw it.

"Did something happen?"

Y/n paused, wondering if she should tell him what she’d heard.

"It’s just… some ladies were talking about you last night." His brows furrowed and he nodded at her to continue. "They said you would… betray me."

Understanding dawned on his eyes, and he reached out to touch Y/n’s cheek. "You do not have to worry about that. I’d rather cut my own di- private parts off than be with someone that is not my lawfully wedded wife."

Y/n blushed. How could she ever have even given thought to husband-stealer’s words? They were just that. Words.

"Thank you."

He rolled his eyes. "Do not thank me for common human decency." He paused, then- "May I kiss you?"

Y/n’s breath hitched. "I’ve never-"

"Neither have I."

Y/n’s eyes widened. "But- but they said-"

"They assumed."

Y/n closed her mouth with a snap.

"I always thought being loyal to your future partner had a certain romantic side to it. So? May I kiss you now?"

"I- yes but I do not know how to-"

He kissed her.

"I am forever yours."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @lady-of-tearshed @starsinyourseyes

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady

@lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @garden-of-runar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat @artists-ally @milswrites @kingdomofstarrynights

@berryzxx @buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy

@mellowmusings

Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @tele86

[xxlelaxx]

I'm so used to stuff just working out last minute... I'm starting to get worried this time it won't. But I'm sure it will. It will be okay. Like always.

[asumi2020202]

Blessing disguised as a Curse

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!reader.

A/N: After the 1st episode of season two I'm currently obsessing over Jacaerys. So, many Jacaerys stories will be uploaded as well as Aemond cuz I Love him too. Thank you for reading this fiction.

Summary: You were Alicent's daughter. Younger than the three, Aegon, Aemond and Helaena but older than Daeron. After returning from Dragonstone, Rhaenyra proposes a marriage pact between her eldest and you. A man your mother had warned you about.

___________________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ______

People and gatherings made you nervous. Anxiety coursed through your veins everytime someone started a conversation with you. Solitude was what you preferred. Your comfort was your sister and by some means her bugs as well.

Your mother warned you of the people that were coming back to Kings Landing. She told you to keep distance from them. Though you paid almost no mind to her words which were half controlled by your grandsire, you couldn't help but ponder about those people she talked about.

You knew them from the start before they fled to Dragonstone after taking your precious brother's eye. You had felt hatred towards them but 'what if they change?' You had thought countless of times.

You loved your siblings more than anything. Having a father only by name in the court and a stranger in the halls as he supported your half-sister with everything she had done even if it was killing someone.

You love them. You tried to be there for them through everything. You love Aegon even if was arrogant and misbehaving. You love Aemond even if he wanted revenge. You love Helaena even if she is called weird by others and is obsessed with bugs. You love Daeron even if you have almost no memory of him left.

_________________________________________

You were playing with little Jaehaerys and Jaehaera while Helaena was telling you more facts about bugs. She loved that her baby sister also had interest in her bugs and helps her catch them.

"Did you know that butterflies join their bodies together to reproduce?" Helaena asks you meeting your gaze.

"Really? I used to think they flap their wings together." You reply as you played with Jaehaerys while little Jaehaera sat on your lap.

"Hmm. The male butterfly often dies soon after they mate." Helaena spoke as her gaze shifted back on her embroidery.

"So then the female butterfl-" you were going to reply when the doors opened to reveal your mother.

Both you and Helaena looked up at her while the children were escorted away by the maids. " They have landed. Remember what I have told you my sweelings. Be on your best behaviours." Alicent spoke.

"Yes mother we understand " you replied speaking for both you and your sister. Alicent left the room after nodding at you.

_________________________________________

After meeting with her daughters, Alicent left their room. A maid informed her that Princess Rhaenyra had wanted to meet with her.

Alicent let the maid guide her to the room where Rhaenyra was present. When they reached the place, the maid opened the door to let the Queen inside.

Alicent was met with Rhaenyra. She could tell just by the looks that Rhaenyra was pregnant.

"It has been too long since we were granted the chance to converse" Alicent spoke, breaking the silence.

"Indeed it has been. I know you were busy with the royal matters at hand, so I asked for you at a time when you would be free." Rhaenyra replied looking into Alicent's eyes.

"Is there any important matter that you wish to discuss with me?" Alicent asked.

"Yes, there is one actually. The rift between us has lived far too long. I propose a marriage pact. My son Jacaerys will inherit the Iron Throne after me. Let my son and your youngest daughter be betrothed together so they shall rule together.

We are one family. And long before that we were close friends." Rhaenyra said and looked at Alicent for an answer.

"I sh-" Alicent was going to speak but Rhaenyra interjected.

"This marriage will help us reconcile with each other." She said.

"I shall think of it and give you your answer after the feast tonight." Alicent replied. "Thank you your grace." Rhaenyra smiled at her.

_________________________________________

Alicent had requested an audience with her father after meeting Rhaenyra to discuss about the marriage.

"Father I can't just sacrifice my child." Alicent pleaded. "I know Alicent but this marriage can help us take the throne and make Aegon the king." Otto reasoned.

"Tell Rhaenyra that you agree to this proposal. If y/n is married to her son then it will be easier to control them. When the throne is returned to the rightful heir, it will be easier to prevent war." Otto continued.

Alicent feeling defeated, agreed to her father's request.

_________________________________________

You were in your sister's chambers, waiting for her to get finished dressing up so you both could attend the feast together.

Your dress was simple yet the details on it were impressive. It was was a navy blue dress with golden details. It made you look ethereal.

When Helaena was done, the both of you left the chambers together. Holding tightly onto the hands of your sister as the maids escorted you to the feast hall.

All were seated at the table only getting up when Viserys arrived before sitting down again.

You were seated on the right side of Helaena as Aegon sat on her left. Aemond sat at the end of the table. Rhaena and Baela sat on your right. Starting small conversations which you could connect to and laugh with them.

You were trying hard to not feel nervous. You couldn't really face upfront only talking to Rhaena, Baela and Helaena.

Jacaerys had never thought you to be so beautiful over the years. When he first saw you after the years, he hadn't believed it was you. Only five and ten yet you were the most beautiful lady in his eyes. He had seen you accidentally when he was watching Aemond train, you stood in your balcony gazing at the sky. It was he who actually reasoned with his mother to marry you to him.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you during the feast. The way the dress showed your curves. The way you white hair was style. The necklace on your neck. He was in love.

You on the other hand couldn't even meet his gaze after what your mother told you.

'His brother took your brother's eye, who knows if one day he comes and decides to bring harm to us as well.' she had said.

Jace got up, walking upto you. Lending his hand forward, asking for a dance. You looked at your mother who just nodded. After which you had accepted his hand.

He led you to the side. The music had started. As you both started to dance. He didn't seem so bad. He seemed gentle, offering you bright smiles to which you just gave some small ones.

He looked different. Different than how your mother described him. Ruthless, arrogant, selfish and such.

After the feast, when the children went to their designated chambers, Alicent told Rhaenyra that she had accepted the marriage proposal. That she would try to forget the past and reconcile with her.

The two women decided that they shall break the news to the children and the king next morning, bidding each other a good night.

_________________________________________

You woke early as usual. Your maids had prepared you for the day. A knock on the door took your attention.

It was Jace.

The one who you felt some type of attachment to after the previous feast. He stood infront of your door as he said "Our mothers have requested an audience with us at the King's chambers. I was asked to inform you and take you to them."

"Very well then my prince, let us leave at once." You replied, getting up from your seat and walking down the corridor with him.

'My prince?' oh how sweet it sounded coming from your mouth. But he didn't want 'my prince', he wanted 'husband'.

He knew why they both were called, his mother told him yesterday night before he fell asleep. That the two would be married soon.

Upon arrival at the King's chambers, you greeted your mother, Rhaenyra and the king.

"Ah you've arrived. Do sit. Your mother and I have agreed on something and we wish for your answer as well." Rhaenyra said giving a smile while holding hands with Alicent like she used to when they were children.

You nodded your head as a sign for her to continue speaking.

"We have decided that you and my son Jace shall be betrothed together for the harmony of our family. Your mother has agreed and so has Jace but I wish for your answer." Rhaenyra finished her saying.

"It is a most judicious proposition. Wouldn't you agree daughter?" King Viserys who was resting in his armchair spoke up.

You looked at your mother, who stared at you and offered a smile and then to Jacaerys who looked around your face to find any kind of rejection.

You looked up at Rhaenyra, anxiety flaring through and spoke "if it can help the family be whole again and please my mother then I shall agree."

Rhaenyra's face brightened as did Jace's. Alicent only nodded.

"Well then. I believe we can start with the preparations right away." Rhaenyra said getting up to hold your hands as you looked up to her.

_________________________________________

"You've warned me my entire life about them mother, and now you simply marry me off to him. I don't get you." You spoke to your mother calmly.

"Sweetling, I know it is difficult for you but it is for the greater good. It is to uphold the realm and make peace." Alicent reasoned while placing her hand on your face.

No other word was spoken as you went back to your chambers.

You liked Jacaerys after the events of last night but you couldn't help but worry about what your mother told you. You couldn't help but worry about your siblings, you would have to leave your home and go to Dragonstone with them.

_________________________________________

Three days since that day, your wedding was held. You and Jace cut your lips and the your palms. Holding your hands together, you both drank from the same cup with your other hands. The septa reciting the vows the both of you had to take.

Your families bear witness of the event. Of the love that was to blossom.

After the feast that was held, you left for your now shared chambers in the red keep.

Jacaerys came in a moment after you. You felt nervous. It was your first night together. As if a miracle, he sense your nervousness.

"Is something bothering you dear wife? You even left the feast early." He asked softly not to startle you.

Wife. Oh how you knew you will love him just from how that word slipped from his mouth.

"It is nothing lord husband. It's just that I don't fare well in gatherings. I find solace in solitude." You reply back.

"Well I hope that from now on I can be your solace." Jacaerys replied with his bright smile as he came closer to you. Your chest almost touching his lower chest.

He was tall. You had tilt your head up to meet him. You didn't move aside as he cupped your cheeks and looked at your for permission.

As you nodded, he took the sign and kissed you. You both had consummated that night for the first time.

________________________________________

The day came when you had to leave with them to Dragonstone. You would eventually come back when Rhaenyra would be crowned.

You stood before your siblings and parents, kissing the cheeks of your siblings. "Will you come back soon?"

"Of course my little cuddle bears." You said as you crouched down to meet the level of your nephew and niece.

You climbed on top of your dragon, Moonfyre as they all bid you farewell. You heart saddened as you thought that Helaena would be alone now with Aegon ignoring her. Aemond might not even apply his ointments properly. And your mother.. would be lonely.

Moonfyre sensed your worry and sadness, letting out a low groan. She was as beautiful as the night. A white dragon whose color slowly went from white to grey. Eyes as bright as the moon, earning her name when she hatched.

_________________________________________

Viserys was dead. It had been moons since you left. A raven had informed Rhaenyra that her half brother Aegon had usurped the throne.

The weight of the matter forced her to go in labor. Her child was a stillborn. It pained her. You knew it tore her from the inside but she had to focus one the matters at hand.

Ser Eryyk had came with the crown of King Jaehaerys I. Daemon crowned her as the queen as all bowed. Otto came to make peace with them which resulted in rejection straight up in his face.

She sent her sons to earn the favor of other houses.

_________________________________________

"Y/n" you heard her call you from the back as stood near the stairs of Dragonstone, gazing at the sea.

"Come walk with me" she told you. As you both went down the stairs to the beach, you both had a gentle conversation.

"Do you wish to switch sides? I would not blame you if you do for they are your family." Rhaenyra spoke.

"All my life, I've seen them being neglected. By both father and mother. I was their and still am their comfort source.

Aegon always told me that he will not sit the iron throne. He told me that being a king will only hold him down in one place, and that he wishes to fly free like a dragon." You pause, looking at her eyes while gently holding her hand before continuing.

"And now they tell me that he has Usurped the throne. That he is now the king and that he now rules. That doesn't seem like the Aegon i know." You told her as she looked at you and nodded her head.

_________________________________________

You stood in the middle of Rhaena and Baela as see someone tell Rhaenyra a few words as she broke down.

She turned around, her eyes filled with rage and sorrow.

Lucerys was dead. Vhagar attacked him.

You felt helpless. Did your brother intentionally kill the Heir to Driftmark? You knew he had a deep hatred for Lucerys for taking his eye. But he wouldn't go as far as to kill him.

A raven had been sent to Jacaerys, informing him of the news. You couldn't face the queen. She knew you were innocent but that cannot pardon the sin of your brother.

You had began to open up but now your alone again. The little child seeking solitude. Hiding from people.

_________________________________________

A raven had arrived, delivering a letter to you. It was from the Red Keep. It was Aegon.

Dear Sister,

I know what has been done cannot be changed, but Aemond didn't actually wanted to kill Luke. It was grandsire. He got in his head like mother. He lost control over Vhagar.

I don't wish to rule. They told me that inorder for Rhaenyra to rule, she would have to kill us. That she would kill us all to secure the throne for her and her son. Grandsire said the same thing to Mother the other day, I had overheard it.

This war shouldn't happen. It will tear all of us apart. We are not the enemy of the blacks nor are they ours. Our enemy is Otto Hightower. He wants to rule the kingdom indirectly by being the hand.

Tell our half sister that we must work together. That I am willing to lay down my throne. She will be the Protector of the Realm. I know this is a crucial time for you but stay safe.

-Yours truly

Aegon.

You didn't know what to say. You were Alicent's daughter, who would believe you. They might consider you a traitor as well. You clutched the letter to your chest.

You walls finally broke. You broke down on the bed. It was him from the beginning. Otto Hightower. Anger and pain surrounded you. You cried as you brought your knees to your chest and hid your face there.

The door slowly opened which you hadn't noticed. It was Jacaerys. He had a melancholy look in his eyes as well as of guilt and hatred.

He hated seeing you cry. His Lady Wife. He gently put his head on your back. You looked up to meet his gaze with a tearful look.

The way he looked broke your heart. He looked used and betrayed. You got up and met his gaze again never letting go of the letter.

"Lord husband-" you started but he shakes his head as a no.

"Don't. Don't speak." He tried to say it normally but it came out cold as he walked towards the desk in your room to perhaps look for something.

"Please listen to me. He is innocent. I got a ra-" You started again but got cut off.

""Innocent?! He killed my brother! How can you possibly call him innocent?! My brother went as a messager. He vowed not to fight and Your Brother!..... Took advantage of that!" He screamed at you. For the first time. You had never seen him so angry even when your brothers teased him. He looked at you with hatred.

Tears flooded your vision again. He had never raised his voice at you. You knew it was due to the loss of his brother but that didn't hurt any less.

"I understand your pain. But you must listen to me! At least once hus-" you reasoned which angered him further.

"How can you understand My pain?! T'is I who lost my brother not you. And whats there to listen to? That your brother killed him accidentally?!

Tell me. Were you also a part of this? I truly thought you had loved me. But it seems you're the same as well!" He shouted again coming closer to you.

"I truly do love you. Please believe me!" Your tears flowed freely.

"No you don't. Tell me... Was this marriage also a scheme of you and your family?! Shut up, just shut up for once!"

Your eyes went wide. He wanted you to shut up. You were bothering him. He doubted your love for him. His own eyes widened a bit when he realised what he said. He left the chambers in a hurry not wanting to discuss about this further.

Your chest felt tight. You couldn't breathe properly. You had trouble while trying to inhale the air.

_________________________________________

As Jacaerys left the chambers, he felt as if his clothes were too tight for his body. He saw Baela and Rhaena bringing your food to your chambers like they have been since the day they received the news of Luke.

They nodded at him as he reciprocated.

As they went inside the chambers, a scream could be heard. Possibly from Baela. It could be heard from all the corners of the castle.

Jace heard it before anyone else as his heart stopped. He rushed straight back to the shared room as he saw Baela cradling your unconscious, small form to her chest while Rhaena panicked and told the maids to call for the maesters.

His breathing stopped as he saw his mother and Princess Rhaenys enter the room along with the maester and maids. His mother looked at him as his eyes filled with tears.

First he lost Lucerys he can't lose you too. He didn't mean anything he said.

_________________________________________

Jacaerys paced around the hall infront of your room. He watched as Rhaena guided his little brother Joffery to his room. Joffery was fond of you which warmed Jace's heart.

As the maesters came out both he and Rhaenyra stood up.

"How is she?" He asked them.

"She has a heavy fever. It possibly happened due to excessive stress. She must have bed rest. " The maesters spoke before leaving.

_________________________________________

It had been 2 days. You were yet to wake up. Moonfyre's cries and wails could be heard from everywhere. She was uncomfortable. Her bonded sister was not well and she could sense it.

Jace held your hand as he apologized over and over again. His tears wetting the sheets.

Your eyes slowly opened. Adjusting to the bright light. Jace looked up to see you now wide awake, trying to sit up.

"No no lay down. You need rest. The maester said you were stressed." He said. His voice quivering.

"Don't cry. I understand your part. I'm sorry I am not what you wish for. I know you wouldn't want to be with a murderer's sister. Hence I give you full permission to take a second wife." You gently said while looking at him.

"No shut up." He said lowly not believing what you said. "I didn't mean anything I said that day. I am sorry." He spoke.

You looked out the window remembering the last time he had asked you to shut up. Tears again filled your eyes which you blinked away but Jace noticed.

"My love i didn't mean it that way. Please believe me." He pleaded shaking his head as held your hand tight.

News spreads fast in the castle. A maid had informed the rest that you were awake. Daemon was with Caraxes and lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys were somewhere on the beach.

Rhaenyra, Rhaena and Baela came to the your chambers. The sisters came beside you as they held onto your hand.

Even though you were the daughter of their enemy, they loved you. You were different.

Rhaenyra looked at her son before turning her gaze to you. She felt disappointed in her son after she learned about the argument.

You asked Rhaena for the letter kept on your bedside table as your body was too weak to move. You probably need a few more weeks to be healthy again.

You asked her to give it Rhaenyra.

As Rhaenyra opened the letter and read it's contents, she felt clueless. She didn't realise the state of the other side. Her companion was manipulated from the start.

She held your hand and gave you a sad look. She handed the letter to Jace as she thought that he should read it as well.

His heart broke. You tried to tell him everything but he refused to listen. You tried to explain everything but he only badmouthed you.

Rhaenyra promised you that Otto Hightower will be punished and that none of your siblings would be harmed.

_________________________________________

Calling of your name came from two bubbly voice as they ran to you. You crouched down and opened your arms. The force of your nephew and niece's weight made you fall flat on your butt.

Jacaerys smiled as he saw the reunion. Infront of him stood your four siblings whom you kissed on the cheeks and hugged after getting up.

It was Rhaenyra's official coronation day. Otto Hightower was beheaded for his schemes against the crown.

Rhaenyra and Alicent were finally together again after Rhaenyra found Daemon with Nettles.

All of the royal family stood as King Jaehaerys' crown was placed upon her head. All gave their respects to their first queen.

Jacaerys held your hand tight as he smiled at you which you reciprocated.

_________________________________________

As night fell over kings landing, you and Jace retired to your new shared chambers.

"Husband. Join me in bed." You requested. Your body glowing in your night gown because of the moonlight.

"Of course avy jorrāelan." Jace replied as he climbed on top of the bed and over your body, pinning you down.

He kissed you passionately as one of your hand cupped his face while the other held onto his neck for support.

His naked chest glowed like yours in the moonlight.

"You are most precious thing I have my love." He said as pulled away from your lips.

"And you, my lord husband, came in my life like a blessing disguised as a curse." You said as you both looked at each other and hungrily kissed each other.

The two of slept a long time after consummating the entire night.

He truly did came in your life like a Blessing disguised as a Curse.....

-Lillian

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

summary: The reader is Aemond’s new bride, a match fixed some time before Viserys’s death. Daemon’s daughter through Lady Royce navigates through a difficult now into a new chapter of being married to the one eyed prince, council and war.

warnings: daemon being an awful dad, Luke’s death, attachment issues, angst, slow burn, arranged marriage

word count: 5.1k

Part 1. Part 2

-

Worlds changed, dragons spew fire, flowers burnt and flowers bloomed, children born and doomed. Y/n, Daemon Targeryn’s first born through Lady Rhea Royce. A child he had despised ever since her birth, just an extension for his hatred towards Lady Royce in the first place. He could never stand her, having been forced to his duties he hated her even more. He was never around for the aftermath of anything, the rogue prince who knew no bounds. The child wasn’t even half a year old when he mercilessly put an end to Lady Royce. The ‘accident’ left the child at the kindness of pitiful wet nurses and the castle staff.

King Viserys however couldn’t stand such tragedy over and over, he generally refrained from interfering his brother’s life. He did regret his decision of marrying daemon to someone against his will but he could not have anticipated such a harsh counter reaction via Daemon. Especially after the babe, Viserys thought the child could perhaps soften the coldness of their relations but it only got worse. The king wished to seek some atonement at least for the sake of the child. Y/n, the princess, away at the grasslands of Runestone. He arranged for her to live at the red keep, a motherless child with an absent father would do better within her present family. The King’s children through alicent were mere babies themselves. The maids, the kind Queen herself, would do well to look after the infant. After all the red keep was her house just as much as it was Daemon’s despite his grievance towards it. Her dragon too was well looked after through the keeps instead of Runestone staff. Her dragon was just a hatchling as y/n too was a baby herself.

Alicent, younger at the time. The keep’s staff, mastered in squalling babies and fussy infants. Y/n wasn’t a bother at all. Not that she were to remember but Queen alicent was kinder to her than the fates had been, she nursed her like one of her own. Such fondness and softness towards daughters, it was nice enough. At least for a while. Y/n was six by the time daemon had come for Rhaenyra’s wedding, then off with Laena. No familiarity between the six year old y/n and her father. Too young to understand her family setting and Daemon still rancour.

Daemon had two daughters with the driftmark princess, viserys deemed him capable enough to raise y/n then. He decided to send little y/n back to her father, viserys wanted his brother to accept his daughter. Alicent had a smaller voice at that time yet she tried to reason with her husband to let y/n be at the keep. Daemon had to accept his brother’s whim anyways so he did. Viserys was as relieved as Alicent was anxious that y/n was in Pentos. King made the decision in good faith, if only he put a bit more distrust in daemon than he did trust. Daemon was still the same, y/n, still a child and he did nothing to make her feel included or at home. She learnt to keep to herself how she had seen Haelena do. Still quite young to comprehend where all such distaste came from, all these different people, different land. She longed to call a place home, her memories of the red keep, Alicent, the others it kept fading because she was but a baby back then. Her father wouldn’t teach y/n how to ride on dragon back how he did with her half sisters. But y/n had taught it to herself. Watching she learnt, she didn’t have to be told explicitly what to do. She fell a lot, on her face and back but she learnt anyways.

As years passed nothing changed between y/n and her father, her half sisters were company enough time to time but she was always in their orbit and not as close. All until Driftmark, they lost lady Laena. Y/n was in her early teens and she tried to be there for Baela and Rhaena. She stood by their side through their mother’s funeral. She understood the gravity of such tragedy, she lived with that grief all her life for her mother who was a stranger she never even met. But she mourned her longer than she’d known her.

Reunited with Alicent, gaining a distasteful look from Daemon. “You’ve grown so much” Alicent remarked as she pulled the girl into her embrace. Both of them looked so much different from when they last met each other. The girl had distant memory of the queen but her warmth was nicer than she had known anyone else’s. Despite the occasion alicent was brought some peace of mind seeing Y/n, she didn’t look her best but at least not the worst. She didn’t have to ask y/n to know if Daemon spoke to her, if she felt at home. She reintroduced y/n to her children, some of them y/n didn’t even remember through faces if not for name.

“She was such a small babe.” Helaena commented as she greeted the young girl. It had been years since Helaena had seen her. Aegon and Aemond just stood with disinterest, Aemond trying to mask it otherwise regardless.

After the tragedy that was which followed Laena’s death upon the nightfall of her funeral. Aemond’s eye was taken and it was a rather gruesome unfolding. A night which left a permanent distance between families. A mark which shaped Aemond for years to come.

As the years followed, dragonstone proved to be just as dreary and awfully lonely for y/n. None of her half siblings were her own or ever treated her as such, unsolicited kindness was all she would get here and there and she had accepted surviving it. Thinking of lives far away, a place where life would begin. But it was perhaps never. As King Viserys’s health worsened the queen and hand took matters into their own hands bit by bit.

The queen, declared that it is but the king’s wish for Aemond to be married with y/n, Daemon’s firstborn. Viserys was asked about it, surely, his decision was firm and wearily elated about the marriage so what does it matter who pitched the thought as long as the king agreed. Aemond was agitated. He did not want it, at all. For the ever present and abiding Aemond he had a rift with the thought of marriage to y/n. But he kept his shortcomings to himself.

Even more so mortified was y/n, she didn’t remember how exactly was her childhood at the red keep but she did recall that ever since driftmark, that family would surely not have a soft heart for her. “Father please don’t-please don’t make me do this” she pleaded Daemon.

“It is the King, my brother’s wish.” Daemon said in a disregard of her wish, surprisingly he was fine with his brother’s second hand wish too. Daemon was aware that the Hightower queen and Otto is who pulled all the strings and his brother was a bed ridden king but this was a decision in his favour as long as he could be rid of y/n.

“You cannot marry me off like this!” She exclaimed, for someone who rarely expressed thoughts to daemon. Something she learnt in all those years with being met with cold shoulder all of life, she had to fight for her life as of now. “Not to Aemond, please father please, I do not know any of them-“

“You do. You have spent most of your childhood at the hip of that Hightower queen you will be just fine.” Daemon scoffed with a bit of condescension in his voice. Indifference as he referred to Alicent.

“I do not remember them” y/n tried to reason, any wet nurse could show sympathy to a high born motherless child she did not account to be in a marriage with that sympathy at this stage in her life. “They are complete strangers, father, please I will stay wherever you ask please don’t marry me off!”

“You are of age, y/n. This is a fitting decision for you!” He exclaimed with growing irritation at this conversation, daemon never paid mind to her moreover chose not to and hence he had expected her to show nothing but compliance.

“For me or for you?” She asked with a bitter huff looking away from her father already losing hope in this conversation, she couldn’t stomach this decision without letting him know her repulsion of it. “You are so eager to wash your hands off of me as if I have ever wronged you, all my life, I’ve never asked for anything-“

“Haven’t you?!” Daemon said loudly, his rage visible in his tone “The fact that you exist is asking too much of me as it is. You are an awful reminder and a mistake. I have been subjected to duty and honour and it is only fair if you are too. It is your duty, if not to me then to the King.” With that the door was slammed as the rogue prince walked out, an ironic vision of her life.

A bitter goodbye and an uncertain life with little to no hope y/n was set for the red keep, glancing back at dragonstone for one last time. She didn’t know if she held any homely softness for that place in her heart but she presumed the life which awaited her would be more dreary than the stone.

The wedding was an intimate affair, a small ceremony but still a lot of strangers y/n had never seen. Daemon refrained from attending but it was no surprise. She was met with warmth and affection from her mother in law and her family but not her husband to be, they were all a strange set of people down here in the south from the maids to the king himself who didn’t even sit on the throne yet made decisions.

Even the most beautiful flowers would wither away at the heavy heart of the new bride of new title, the princess. She couldn’t stand her person she was becoming or moreover the mere idea of what she had to be. Aemond wouldn’t even share the same bad as her, almost every night for the first week. He’d rather sleep on the sofa or some nights he’d just never return from wherever he wandered off to.

Barely getting the grasp of it, small domestic solaces just everytime she was with Halena and her mother in law, tending to her niece and nephew. The only time she felt less alone but she was familiar with the loneliness, that wasn’t the problem. It was the nerve wrecking confusion and uncertainty that followed after, eating her alive every night that she would lay. Within strangers now, she felt a stranger to herself too.

Days passed, circumstances arose: the king fell. Aegon was declared the king, a restless unease of an upcoming war. The hand’s very first decision was passing daemon’s seat on the council to y/n. “What?” She asked wide eyed as the hand and queen pitched it to her. “Why, me? I’m not even that learned…” she trailed off.

“You spend most of your time in the library, you happen to have a knack for reading. I’m assuming you can write too?” Otto questioned, if more number of people on the council were his own to mould and speak for the rule would be so much easier.

“Yes but just letters and scrolls..” she trailed off with a sigh, it was rather strange they would approach her for something as important as the council in the first place.

“We need sharp mind of a soft heart on the council.” Alicent said as she caressed her daughter in law’s cheek, with a smile to put some confidence in her. Despite her father’s motives of having y/n on the council, Alicent believed y/n would prove to be rather fruitful and genuine.

“It is also your birthright, through your father’s seat on King Viserys’s council. It is only right if you were to be a part of it.” Otto added in an encouraging manner. The pieces were being set already, as the blacks were processing their own steps.

They had Aemond set to go meet lord Dorros the very next morrow, with a bribe of the crown’s coin and loyalty. The forces set, Aegon’s coronation done. Just one last afternoon council left. Aegon, riding the high of his coronation wasn’t present in this one.

Everyone took their respective seats, it was an eventful morning’s slow afternoon. The coronation was as eventful as it was unpleasant with the beast beneath the boards. Sending out scrolls to other lords, the council discussed it. Y/n didn’t say anything, just listening. Writing out the needed scrolls, Alicent quietly remarked her beautiful hand at the words.

The door slammed open as Aemond entered, he was enraged at his wife’s seat on the council. “Aemond.” Alicent said as the room stiffened.

“What is this?” He asked with as his brows furrowed, he felt very wronged and partially frustrated that his lady wife had a seat on the council above him.

“It’s a meeting.” Otto declared as he looked back from the board back to Aemond, “Not yet done, what is your business here?”

“What is she doing here?” Aemond inquired as he leant over a chair, more belonging in this room than anyone else. Especially his wife, he thought to himself the other members with an awkward look on their face.

“She has a seat extended on the king’s council after her own father, daemon.” Otto filled him in on the subject, visibly disinterested.

“Daemon’s claim on the council died with my father’s death. She holds no such extension.” Aemond reasoned calmly, very much opposed to the irritation rising inside him.

“I’m still a hand to the king aren’t I? Your mother is on the council. Lord Tyland-“ Otto replied back but was interrupted by Aemond midway before he made his point.

“None of them sworn against Aegon. Daemon has called for the pretender hence his seat on this council holds no significance.” Aemond scoffed looking down at his wife who sat, scrolls lay in front of her and a pen in her hand. She felt overwhelmed with such necessary distaste, the hand to the king and queen mother herself asked her to join the council yet Aemond had an issue. It’s not as if she were to act against the interest of the crown or make big decisions to begin with.

“She is the princess. Your lawfully wedded wife, in the eyes of the gods and all the members of this very council and more. Despite Daemon’s treachery and your incoherent jealousy she belongs here.” Otto said breaking Aemond’s mouth, he knew which nerve to exactly hit. Saying Aemond was jealous, of his lady wife’s seat in front of everyone. It was enough to send him seething back and he was right. With a huff as he stared down at y/n, he turned to his heel at left.

Everyone had their accustomed part with a potential war brewing. Aemond had to leave to meet lord borros next morning. Y/n assumed he would be calculating and supposedly busy with his task at hand yet he found time to cause a scene at the council. Y/n knew that nobody on the council saw her as a threat because they all knew of daemon’s indifference for her. The black sheep. In truth she didn’t owe her father any loyalty either so their calculations were correct, her husband however.

She planned to avoid him regardless, spending the rest of the day with the twins, Helaena talking her ear off about her fixated spider and y/n loved that too. Jaehaera was playing with y/n’s hair, adding her toys into it making improper braids. Jahaerys running in circles and hoarding his toys in y/n’s lap as she enjoyed a conversation with their mother.

Alicent walked in, for a moment just taking in the domesticity of the scene. The serenity, the girls laughing. It was rather rare before y/n to see Helaena at peace like this. She entered with a soft knock greeting everyone and she took a seat next to y/n, “Children you must retire your auntie now, it’s rather late!”

“It’s alright mother, it’s not that late.” protested, Haelena she enjoyed y/n’s company as much as the whining children, Jaehaera caged y/n in her tiny arms from her back to not let her go. However through alicent’s hesitant eyes y/n realised she must have some sort of business to discuss.

“Forgive me my loves I am growing a bit tired…but I’m not going anywhere I’d be back soon enough!” She said with a sigh as she kissed the twins goodbye, both of them a bit protestant but let her go eventually. “Good evening, Helaena.” She smiled and bid her goodbye as well and exited with her mother in law.

After they were out in the hallway, secluded of other ears Alicent proceeded “Are you alright?”

“Yes, your grace” y/n replied with a non hesitant nod, in an instant with a smile confused why would that question come up.

“Mother.” She corrected her stopping on her way to turn to face her.

“-Mother.” Y/n said with a soft smile rephrasing her title.

“After…today’s council. You have been avoiding Aemond?” She asked searching for y/n’s dreary eyes.

“No-that is not the case” y/n shook her head trying to formulate a better answer given she hadn’t asked that question to herself. Because in a sense she was avoiding Aemond. “I—“ she breathed “I am rather anxious.”

“Of what? Does he speak to you in an ill manner? Do you wish for me to talk to him?” Alicent inquired concerned for her hesitation of Aemond’s lashing out or whatever it was she was trying to avoid.

“No-no it’s not that…I just feel guilty. He wants an authority, his opinion to be heard at council level and I get that place before him, we’re not at the best terms to begin with and now he must be cross with me” Y/n explained her worry with a sigh.

“And? It is your right, y/n.” Alicent said as she took her hand into hers in an affirming way, “you must never feel guilty for claims that are solely yours.” She explained, “as of Aemond, he can be difficult sometimes, but I assure you he isn’t malevolent. He loves you.”

The Queen mother’s assurance felt it came from a place of gentle constitution and the motherly naïveté of overlooking some things but y/n was more than aware that Aemond did anything but love her. She was familiar with lack of warmth, affection, just so far from it she could almost find strange ways to dwell in it. It was an emotion she knew for so long, from her father’s house to her husband’s, bricks of her old life and no love.

But she did not tell alicent of her wearies, after all she did not worry about it she was at terms with it. But she was worried meeting Aemond, as of now, she walked the hallway to their shared bedchamber with heavy breaths. Aemond was looking out the giant window, he had a journey to make the next morning to the baratheons yet he wasn’t resting or preparing. Much to y/n’s demise she hoped he’d be off somewhere else. She closed the door behind her as she entered, Aemond never talked to her generally. She never spoke unless spoken to but today silence weighed heavy between the two of them.

“The meeting ran late did it?” Aemond asked without looking back at her, he could tell from the soft stride who entered their chambers.

“No, I was with Helaena…” She trailed off growing strangely anxious because she felt answerable to him. As if it would compensate him and that was her burden to bear. “The meeting was rather trivial”

“Was it now?” He scoffed in a bigger way and turned to face her, “You must have provided the trivial meeting with your other worldly wit and understanding of warfare.”

“Aemond” she said taking in a sharp breath, meaning to tread carefully “I know you are upset. Believe me I did not know beforehand of the planning nor was it offered to me, the hand-queen mother they deemed it as my duty and right and I did not have other choice otherwise I would’ve asked you…”

“Asked me what?” Aemond interrogated crossing his arms as he leant against the stone pillar, her feigning nonchalance and false sympathy irritated him to no end.

“To take my place” she answered. She meant it in a genuine sense because she did not hold the same passion or want for a seat on the King’s council the way Aemond did. It was far from her. “I’d rather you take my place, I have no wish for authority on the council. I could ask the hand to-“

“You truly are the imbecile I presumed you to be.” He said assertively as he stiffened, his shoulders tight. “Are you that naive? Do you think I would need your help to put myself on the council? Yours?” He said as he huffed, berating her was his intention. Y/n remained silent, unmoving in her place no matter however she tried and help him or soften the rift in their marriage he was always imbecile from it. In the meantime he walked a bit closer to her, towering over her given his taller stature he leant forward by a bit to make himself appear intimidating.

“My apologies then.” She muttered lowering her gaze from his because she felt rather scrutinised by him as if she was at fault for something, as if she had wronged him. “Excuse me” she said before he could reply and attempted to retreat away to the adjoint bathroom. Wait out him falling asleep or leaving. The newlywed with their peculiar marriage of indifference.

-

Aemomd’s return from his errand with the Baratheon lord contained of a difficult detour nobody had anticipated. Rather difficult, to navigate such a blow through warfare. The council, y/n merely heard and spoke four sentences on an average, was shocked. No idea of action status not war treading. Circumstance heavy on everyone. Shame and disregard.

Sitting by the burning lamp, late evening, the scrolls and letters were to be written with such urgency after what happened with lucerys y/n had to take it to her own desk. Too busy with the works she barely processed the loss yet, she did not know Lucerys as a brother but an acquaintance who was rather kind to her all those years.

She barely looked up when the door opened, only when Aemond drew closer. Rather too close to her desk, he leant on the table where she was writing. Close to where she was sitting he breathed heavily. Putting the pen down and the scroll aside y/n looked up at him. “What did the king say?”

“The king?” Aemond repeated with a small laugh, he was still getting used to the new titles but referring those even behind closed doors was somewhat strange. “Aegon, he is not the most serious about it. Collateral damage he said.” Aemond repeated the words, he was never fond of the bastard himself but he never planned to take such drastic step. “Grand sire had a lot to say and mother, she is disappointed. Perhaps everyone is disappointed?” He asked emphasising ‘everyone’ referring to her. He did not know of his lady wife’s connection with the Strong boy but his own mother had a dislike for him and yet she was disappointed.

“I don’t know warfare as good as the lot of you, but” she nodded to his previous implication of being disappointed in a way, such loss must be difficult to stomach for those really close. “It is a lot…”

“Do you grieve him?” Aemond asked, his tone non threatening nor interrogative, subtly calm.

Pausing y/n thought about it for a moment, she was quick to side with the hand’s cold and calculative decisions as her mother in law suggested writing Rhaenyra letters instead, y/n herself weighed heavy on practicality as if grief was non existent. In a way it was. “I don’t know” she said puzzled “We were never close but he was kind to me, not all of them and not everytime but whenever he could be…” she trailed off. “He was easily anxious about a lot of things, scared.” Last time she had seen him it was the dinner for King Viserys upon the discussion to heir of driftmark. The scene that followed that dinner was distant in y/n’s mind until now. The same inferior fright was in Luke’s eyes that day.

Aemond did not say anything, her words made him feel guilty even more so but he would never display to anyone. He fought for his life debating to the council, to grandsire that it was an accident however not enough for him to take accountability of it as if he had done something wrong. He knew he had, but he did not show it. He could not. It did not come from a place of sympathy nor altruistic intentions but an ambush of unsolicited guilt. “Is it true?” She asked him.

“What is?” He replied as her voice pulled him out of his thought and his gaze met hers, she still sat on the desk the soft orange hue of the lantern on her face.

“You hold no regret?” She asked him referring to the conversation he had with the council when he was confronted about what happened. He did not owe his truthfulness to anyone, especially not the council.

The heavy silence between the two of them told her more than his words could, her eyes softened as he pondered his unsaid exoneration. Nobody would believe him but she might just, “I did not mean for that to happen, nor did I plan it.”

There was a crack in his demeanour, very different from how he presented himself back in front of everyone else about the the whole ordeal. Accountability seeping in and he should know, “Acting bigger than the situation won’t provide you with the atonement you are looking for.” She told him, forgetting herself when he asked for her advice and she assumed in such delicate state of mind he would rather lash out than listen but he did not. He was present, here to listen. To her? So far he had made it so very clear that he held no regard for her whatsoever.

“I am not looking for atonement.” He said more to himself than to her in a gentle tone and a hint of lostness in his expression. He longed for something, some consolation of some kind but he did not know exactly what and he felt restless with heavy emotions.

“You are.” She answered for the question he did not ask out loud, however the epiphany of it was not lost on him as he looked at her like an open wound. He did not protest her because she was right, she held the answers to herself. She could think for him despite of what he did and it unsettled him in some way because he had never felt such softness of anyone else. To know that he had done something he would have to seek atonement for and…hold regard for him still?

“Do you see me differently then?” He asked, small fright creeping him on the inside if she affirmed his answer.

“No” she replied without hesitation nor enthusiasm, she did see him less ruthless and uncaring than she had previously known him to be but she did not tell him that in this state of mind of his. However the heavy silence and the remorseful tension was too much to bear. She stood up from her chair seemingly to leave and attend some other task, just then realising he stood rather close. Before she could attempt to move away he stopped her. Holding her by her wrist he pulled her close but he was already close enough, the distance shortening this small for the first time since their wedding.

“Do you truly, not see differently?” He asked again with searching eyes. He couldn’t do with her short no however affirming as it was it wasn’t absorbing. It did not feed to his shame and guilt.

Y/n did not know how to soothe his wearies, she never thought her perception would matter to him at all. The walls within their marriage came crumbling down as he held her wrist it seemed, she wasn’t going away yet he kept a hold of her. To ground himself more than her. After staring into his eye for what seemed like an eternity she simply pulled him into her embrace, in a tight embrace. Her arms holding his broad stature the best they could, raising on her toes to bring him as close as she could.

Aemond was stunned to say, for a moment. He could not fathom she would want to tread so gently with him after what he had done he did not expect such, such softness. As he enlaced his arms around her waist, hugging her back as he raised her closer to him. His person. He had never felt such warmth and love of hands that would show soft affection even after knowing his ugly work, he was met with her comfort when he deserved retribution. It nestled his spirit in a serene place, he worried the place would vanish if he let go off her so he didn’t. He kept holding her close to him, closer of it was possible as he buried his face by the crook of her neck.

After a while she pulled away but not entirely, resting her temple against his. His soft breath on her as she sighed closing her eyes. He followed to, until he met her gaze again. His impulse wanted to touch her face to make sure she was real, that this moment was. So he did. Fixing the loose strand of her hair behind her ear he cupped her face. She did not move away, heart racing in such gentle exchange between the two of them. It was a first and he did not want her to extend her boundaries for his sake but he could not stop himself, he brushed his lips against her.

Indulging in a passionate kiss, holding her face in his hands as if she was made of porcelain. It was the first time somebody had held y/n with such fragility. Such affection was very foreign to her all her life, even the kiss on their wedding day felt forced and ceremonial. But this felt real, it was. She kissed him back and held him close, standing in the light of a desk lantern, the moonlight seeping in and lovers who might just be alright.

—

—part 2.

I am sorry if this feels rushed, i skipped season 1 bc i want to do all of s2…please let me know what you think in the comments 💕

If you want to be in the taglist pls comment AND go drink water RIGHT NOW ILY SO MUCH !!!!!!!!

-

[jellicatty]

♯1 ┆ ❝ SUMMER BUMMER ❞ 𝜗𝜚 ᵎᵎ

With your teases and flirty remarks, the two men find themselves guessing the color of your panties— another game they played besides golfing.

╰┈➤ contains : nanami x beverage cart attendant! female reader x higuruma. nana and higu golfing. masturbation. grinding. mutual pinning. innuendos. nana and higu are perverts here. jealous! higuruma. reader is a tease. reader wear skirts.

╰┈➤ note : EEEE FINALLY I POSTED THIS it only took me like a months... anywayy, sex scenes aren't really my forte plus this is like the first time i wrote one sooo don't expect too much (?).

╰┈➤ next : groupie love (coming soon) ...

Defendants would put all the blame on him, the court's verdict is seemingly destined to oppose his favor. Or, that's what Higuruma thought. Another failed case, another living being failed by the country's unjust system, another alleged victim thrown into jail.

Higuruma though, knew that these circumstances would happen. His dream have lasted for centuries, formed by his compassion to deliver the accused to light. But little by little, his principles have formed cracks.

Although his workaholic nature is unfaltering, worsened by the multitude of paperworks, Higuruma does crave for rest. But, his work-life balance contradicts his need for relaxation. Until, the opportunity had arrived and he's now trudging to a bar.

To passerby, it was your typical, vintage bar that old and worn-out folks like him would visit. However, Higuruma saw it as a sanctuary for his deep troubles. From drinking with his colleagues or just simply letting his usually work-occupied mind slip away, his favorite bar had seen it all.

"One— No, three of these, please." His ever polite tone still there even as the hours of long work shouldered him down.

The atmosphere rivaled the comfort of his home, and it's probably why Higuruma had an liking for it.

"You're being carried away by your thoughts, Mr. Higuruma." The bartender was quick to notice his blank expression, placing his ordered drinks in an attempt to distract his mind from work.

But, the bartender knew Higuruma too well. Despite connecting only through brief conversations, and a short time together, the bartender had a sense of what Higuruma's state of mind is at the end of the day.

"If you want to take off your mind away from work, then I suggest doing something else for a change." Well, this hasn't been the first time the advice was given to the attorney. He's had his fair share of therapeutic tips from concerned people. None were able to fully convince him though.

"I don't... I'm too busy."

"You wallow in self-pity, yet do nothing to save yourself from it. I've met other people like you, people who find comfort in what makes them distraught." Instead of his duties, the bartender was now focused on Higuruma. "It doesn't end good for them. I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know. It's not that easy to let go of something that you've dedicated your whole life too."

"I'm sure nothing will be lost if you do let go for a fraction of a second."

"You're not going to give this up, huh?" Higuruma sighed, "Well, I'd like to keep a valuable customer." They both chuckled at the Bartender's wishes. After some thought and a drink or two, Higuruma was set on the decision to make some small changes in his life for once.

The problem is, what would be the change?

Gym was out of the question since he frequently did so. Hiking's too taxing and he can't leave his duties for a long time. Sports were a possibility, as long as it didn't physically exert him that much. Golfing, maybe? He thought.

"One of the gents at the bar earlier has been to the newly opened golfing course here."

Ah, golfing it is.

"I think that young fellow over there needs a getaway from their life, too." His focus turned to the younger, blond man sitting three stools away. A few bottles have been emptied, yet it was evident that he could go for a few more. Nothing outstanding from the man aside from his leopard-pattern tie. Just your typical, fatigue worker.

"Looks like you're also preoccupied with your mind, Sir Nanami. I take it as a bad day?"

"No need to say more."

Although Higuruma knew it was not the best to disturb the tired man, he thought that perhaps talking to him would make their mundane nights better. Maybe, to comfort him with the words he wished to hear.

"Sorry for intruding your conversation, but are you new here?"

"Nope. Been here for some time now. Just been a bit busy with some... grueling reports again." He winced at the mention of his work.

"Reports?"

"I'm a salaryman." Higuruma now turned his full attention on Nanami, filling his curiosity. He hands out a calling card, "Here, just in case." And for a brief second, Higuruma almost laughs at his own 'joke' that he always did with his new acquaintances. Fortunately for him, Nanami's humor was not yet stripped away by his boring profession and softly smiled at his friendly remark.

It's a simple change like this is what Nanami wanted. Nothing extraordinary, nothing too small to notice too. The two men shared their experiences, silently bonding over the heavy troubles they carried from day to night. And if they were being honest, this was one of those moments where they surely won't forget. It's like moments like this was there only escape from the tiring duties they must do.

Alas, the deepest night has caught up to them. The lulling blue tones that played throughout their visit no longer graced their ears. The only noise present was their chatter and the kind bartender's huffing and puffing of cigarette.

"You know, despite your gruff look, you're an approachable guy. A fun one too if you squinted."

"Oh, gruff? You should check a mirror, Higuruma."

The two men chuckled at their jokes, slowly packing up their own belongings before cleaning their surroundings. After they finished, they walked together outside.

The blistering cold of the night quickly breezed past the two men. A shiver and a small breath of fresh air later, they nodded at each other and departed from the bar with heavy steps.

The night was still young, and Higuruma's desperate for a change. Fortunately, Nanami Kento had arrived. Albeit small, Nanami still had made a difference to Higuruma's perpetual enervating days.

He doesn't want their interactions to remain just at the bar, though. Perhaps, he should suggest on golfing together to help the blond too.

The summertime heat was merciless. As one could anticipate for this time of year. In the intense heat, Higuruma and Nanami were helpless. Their experienced selves took turns swinging their golf clubs, finding entertainment in their calculated swings and triumphant shots. Empty cups scattered on their table, their belongings left unattended. 

Golf seemed like a good start—and maybe their greatest choice by far. It was not only a nice diversion, but it also provided them with the ideal reason to spend time with their favorite entertainment—you, the beverage cart girl. 

Weeks have passed, and life has been more tolerable. The first golf meets with Nanami were riddled with a comfortable silence, as if the two men had known each other for a while. The only bond they had was formed on their sleepless nights and persistent work, yet conversations flowed effortlessly. With their unfading politeness and formal talking that stayed even during their golf meets. They both assumed that the other was righteous, and a man of good qualities. Damn were they wrong.

Refined. Upright. Gentlemanly. Those words that used to describe the two men were long discarded. Since your arrival, the two men had been nothing but good, their true colors spilling from the shells of who they used to be. Higuruma could still vividly recall the moment where their true selves slipped. Their gazes were fixed only on you that day, overfilled with joy once you asked for their orders in that sweet voice you had. And right after you left them with their hard rock problems to themselves, they turned to each other as if their eyes alone could communicate. A word did not need to be shared. They knew that you were going to be a problem.

"What do you think's the color of her panties this time, Nanami?" Higuruma positioned his hips in a more appropriate manner, then swung his club. 

"That cheeky woman loves pink," Nanami replied. 

Aside from golf, they engaged in another game — guessing the color of your panties. As suggested by Higuruma when he caught a glimpse of it a few days ago, this was now the two men's favorite pastime. To them, it seemed only fair since you'd purposely bend over to shamelessly give them a view of your lace-trimmed panties that matched your outfits.

"I highly doubt it will be pink again—" 

Out of nowhere, the faint noise of tires screeching slowly approached the two men. Puzzled, they looked at each other first, before turning around. Their eyes confusedly searched for the noise, before their gazes landed on the approaching golf cart— or rather, you. 

It was as if you were the oasis in the Sahara desert, quenching the men's thirst with your exposed skin and alluring smile. With your pastel yellow pleats that went inches above your knee, your tight-fit Lululemon jacket that hugged your delectable figure, and your glamoured face, you joyfully steered the cart towards them. 

Your beautiful smile greeted them, "Sir Kento! Sir Hiromi! I've brought you your drinks again!"  

Higuruma's typically vacant eyes had their spark back to them, the usual boring look it wore instantly disappearing. Meanwhile, the hard lines of Nanami’s face eased, his stoic demeanor softening in your presence.

You hopped off your seat and prepared their ordered drinks, blind to their improper gazes that seek your undergarment. 

Luck was merciful, and the world was on their side today when a breeze had swept your skirt upwards in a cartoonish fashion. 

"Oh!" Your cheeks flushed scarlet at the embarrassing incident, yet your hands take their time to pull down your skirt. 

Their eyes are quicker than your hands, ill-intent gazes finding your undergarment in a flash. Light pink and polka dotted, adorned with a small bow at the front. The kind of panties that he envisioned every night. Nanami snickered, proving himself to be right once again.

"Pay up," Higuruma grumbled, cursing the man under his breath. Their actions no longer define the men they used to be. Their gentlemanliness and polished attitudes dissipate into the air at the sight of you. 

"Thanks, angel. You know how to make our day better, huh?" Nanami returned your smile and took the drinks from your hand. 

Higuruma is not oblivious enough to overlook Nanami's full interest in you. He's sure that a deprived man like him would ogle at your frame. He applauded the blond's self-control because, God, mini skirts were the death of him. 

"That would beeee... 12 dollars!" 

"12 only?" Higuruma pulled out his wallet and handed more than the said amount, "Here, keep the change, sweetie." However, your hands clumsily dropped the money. 

Your breasts from the tight-fit jacket were threatening to spill out as you bent down to grab the fallen change. Although involuntarily, the two men were able to shortly glance at it and oh, my— what a sight. Two mounds pressed tightly together, sweat sensually gliding on your skin, the natural red flush adding more allure. 

Their throats ran dry, needing a refreshment as they were taken aback by the promiscuous view of your tits. There's no way that wasn't intentional, they thought.  

Although you often pulled those stunts, your shyness still lingered— a thing that they grew fondness for. You excused your blunder, timidly covering your face as you walked back to your cart. 

"Aw, you going so soon?" You knew Higuruma would call for you. After all, he enjoyed your presence and often was the one chatting with you. From his smirk though, you should have known he had something in store for today. 

"Come, let Mr. Kento here teach you some golf lessons." Higuruma's true goal of making you break in broad daylight is hidden under his hoax suggestion. Nanami, with his sharp senses, saw Higuruma's real intention, irritated at being his guinea pig for entertainment. 

Despite his annoyance, he gratifies the other man's idea. Now, he has an inexcusable reason to close the proximity between you. 

You asked the man in your honeyed voice "Would it be okay, Sir Kento?", so sweet it's almost sickly. His ears are focused on your saccharine voice, contradicting his jumbled thoughts that insisted he was sick of hearing it, fearing how much power your words have over him. His mind wonders; Would you have that same, sugary and sweet voice? Would your moans echo like candy, alluring and irresistible?

Nanami's attention was quickly drawn to you, looking up at him, his bulging biceps pressed against your tits. Your big, doll-like eyes are desperate to be taught. Nanami wonders again if you'd have the same look when he'll be ruining you.

"Pleaaseee! My shift will be finished soon!" Your pout was his last straw, a victim to your begging once again. Sighing, Nanami agreed to your requests. 

"Yay! Thank you, Sir Kento!" 

"Calm down, sweets. Mr. Kento here is going to malfunction if you keep on clinging to him like that." Higuruma snickered at Nanami's flustered face. "Oh, I apologize, Sir Kento!" You sheepishly backed away and regretted your actions. 

The truth is, it wasn't just the two men that had their perverse fantasies. You too suffered their charm. Whether it be downing the alcohol they ordered, or simply breathing, it always had been a distraction for you. Their Ralph Lauren polos hugged their bodies in a nice fit, outlining their flexed muscles that shone deliciously under their sweat and the sun's rays. Thick, defined thighs, straining their pants. Even when playing normally, their wealth and professionalism exuded, something that you found very appealing. 

"Bend with your hips, Y/n. Not your waist." Would it be wrong to say that you found his strict demeanor attractive? Would it also be wrong to think of the many things Nanami would order you to do in bed? 

"Aaand— Did I do it right?!" Nanami's advice went through and exited your ear. Your swings misaligned and your ball never reached the goal. 

"Gosh, you're a lost cause, angel. This is how it's done." Without warning, Nanami walked to your back. His proximity was sinful as his crotch settled at your ass, the sudden closeness eliciting a small, shocked gasp from you. 

"Like..." He's also affected by the warmth and comfort your ass gave, hot breath fanning over your neck. He extended his arm and put them over yours, guiding your own so you can swing in a correct manner. "This."

But, aiming for the goal was the least of your worries. Not when Nanami's cock is noticeably hardening against your ass. 

"There, you did it!" 

A mix of disbelief and amusement flickered on Higuruma's face. Regret washed over him as Nanami took his suggestion to another level, scolding himself for underestimating the blond's courage and will to tease you right in front of him. With no escape, he's now forced to watch the consequences of his actions unfold. Yet, despite the pure jealousy clouding his mind, he does admit that the scene was enticing. 

His thoughts are improper and vulgar, your flushed expression fueling him more. His train of thought is unavoidable though. Whenever Nanami teased you in broad daylight, publicly, and in front of him, his thoughts will surely be anything but pure.

"S-Sir Hiromi—!" Your voice cried, not for help but for his attention. A whore like you loved the attention. You loved Higuruma's disgusted scowl as he watched the two of you get handsy. You loved Higuruma's body, which reacted opposed to his shown expressions— his bulge visible while his face grimaced. 

But, his thoughts got the best of him, and you only wanted to share your achievement. 

"Did you s-see my shot? It was perfect!" You finally let out a breath when Nanami pulled away, not without a small, teasing comment whispered at you. 

Let him watch. 

Oh, you will. 

Another time, though, because Higuruma's jealousy was painfully cutting through the air. His patience was wearily thin, and it's all because you cannot stop grinding on Nanami's bulge. 

Determined to outdo the blond's ministrations, and also ease his jealousy, Higuruma chimes in., "You mind for a dinner together? Could tell that you need a break just from your eyes alone, sweets." 

The sudden attention left you light-headed, shocked with their unspoken rivalry. You had power and influence over them, and you know just how to use it. But for now, your mind could only focus on the fact that you were going to dinner with your client. You’ve overstepped so many rules and most probably going to be in trouble, but a night with a man like Higuruma Hiromi was something you won’t deny.

Nanami sees your excitement. Feeling the sprouted competition happening between him and his friend, he quickly interjects, "I still don't have your number either. What is it, angel?"

Higuruma's betting on all of his suits (which are all expensive, by the way) that Nanami's going to fuck his fist to your pictures tonight. And he wasn't wrong. Because, as soon as Nanami arrived home, his first thought was to check your socials (surprisingly, not his paperwork). He was initially confused since you had an innocent facade online. Shared religious quotes, pictures with family, not a single photo where your boobs are out for everyone to see. He's even doubting if he followed the correct account. The only confirmation he had that it was yours was the new story you had posted. 

It was you, right after your shift, posing in front of the mirror with a smile. Your caption about thanking the Lord for another day made him laugh. He's confident that you're praising Nanami for his ministrations earlier instead. 

Nanami also wholeheartedly believes you're thanking him too for pressing his hard cock on your ass. He's flattered, and fucking horny, still bothered by the stunt he pulled earlier. 

His erection is painful, and Nanami realizes how he could take care of it. Although feeling a bit perverse at the act he's about to do, he shoves his second thoughts away, eager to cum at a picture of you. 

His lengthy dick is in his hand, gliding against his tip, then sliding up and down. His pre cum coated the top, oozing continuously as he stared at your picture on screen.

"Fuuuck..." He groaned, eyes closed, panting at the pleasure he was feeling. He indulges in his fantasies, letting his imagination run wild. He thinks of you inside his bedroom, wearing nothing but your light pink underwear, with polka dots all over and decorated with laces and ribbons. The same panties that he caught a glimpse of that he's so weak for. He's curious about what you'd be like, but he knew your salacious nature, and figured that you'll be the same slut you are. 

God, if only you were here.

If you were here, it wouldn't be him toying with himself. It would be you, bouncing up and down, drool dripping from your mouth, as his cock fucks your pussy silly. You'd have that dumb look on your face, mind clouded in a lust-frenzy haze as you desperately begged for more. 

"Mhm! Sir Kento!" He knows you'd call out to him, your voice ever-so-sweet, whining and weeping at the fervent feeling of him filling you up. 

"Gonna cum inside you." is what he'd say if you were here. And you being you, you're fain of his request, straddling his hips as if it was made to be there. You wouldn't pull away. Instead, you'd remain on his dick as splurges of cum shoot out of it. 

"T-thank you, Sir" You'd thank him for drowning your sex with his cum. Nanami would only get hard again at your sweetness that managed to stay in the bedroom, and he'd flip you over and pound himself into you. 

His empty promises to himself would be fulfilled one day. But for now, his hand will do. 

"S-shit" His voice is shaky, body trembling at his intense high. His palm is dirtied by his cum that he hoped was inside of you instead.

Tonight, it will be his hand. Next week, it will be your mouth. He's certain of that— No, he swears it will be your small mouth wrapped on his cock. Perhaps, with Higuruma fucking you silly too.

tags : @packsvlog @honeynanamin @rrssrios @misscigarettes @shokosbunny @shamelessdonutkryptonite @i1uvc4ke @dongh9e @freakadelik @tomurafrlover23 @sad-darksoul @glader13 @that-redheadd @beantokki @a-hidden-gem @joonsanswers @erenspersonalsexdoll @s-1-xx @shxniq @ilovetengen @zianaz-slvtz @jwnzlvr @wifenanami @20kglex @oromaangel @jejejjekskwl @s4m4nth4wrld @jaeminsmilk @alpha-mommy69 @lobsteeer @blackphoenix0718 @wrldldo @nappingmoon @cindyneko-strider @yumiecheesecrackers @rattats-world

© jellicatty | no plagiarising please (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[rennalaqotfm]

𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART IV)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Sexual content (but MDNI 18+ just to be safe), dry humping (-ish?), violence, alcohol consumption, toxic dynamics, swearing, themes of prejudice and misogynism, and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said, (not proofread).

WC: 5.6k

Series Masterlist

(A/N and taglist at the end of the chapter)

As the winds guided Ser Tyland's ship to the Free Cities, the excitement regarding the wedding of the future Princess of Dorne and the Crown Prince buzzed in the air. No ravens had to be sent, for the whispers began within the palace walls, spread through the bustling streets of Sunspear, and were carried by the desert winds across the dunes, reaching the furthest Dornish houses.

Princess Y/n sat before her mirror, watching her handmaiden, Melynda, fasten the back of her dress. A sweet girl of one-and-twenty, Melynda had been brought from Pentos on a cramped boat, a former slave traded by her master for coin. Ever since she had served the Princess with quiet devotion, her nimble fingers always making a masterpiece out of her.

Despite being draped in the finest fabrics of deep sapphire, adorned with intricate golden swirls and beads of amber, Y/n stared blankly at her reflection. The celebrations leading to the wedding were set to last a fortnight, a long stretch filled with feasts, ceremonies, and endless politicking. In mere hours, she would be facing the guests, forced to smile and charm as she and the Velaryon boy persuaded them to align with Rhaenyra's cause. She didn't even know where to begin looking for the strength and willpower she had to gather to convince those lords to join a war she herself didn't fully believe in.

“Is it too tight, Princess?” Melynda asked meekly, noting how Y/n had remained quiet the whole time she had been preparing her. "Princess?"

Suddenly, Y/n's bottom lip began to quiver as she felt a knot forming in her throat. 

“Gods be damned…” she muttered, feeling her tears pooling in her eyes. “How did it all come to this?” 

“If it's too tight, mayhaps I could—”

“Of course, it’s bloody tight! It’s damn near crushing my guts!” the Princess burst out, causing her handmaiden to stumble backward, her hands trembling. “I apologise, Melynda,” she sniffed, feeling the guilt pool in her chest. It wasn’t the first time she had taken her anger and frustration out on the younger girl. Of all the people in the palace, she was the least deserving of such crude treatment. “It’s just—”

“I understand, Princess,” Melynda smiled sadly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Y/n held her hand softly, holding back her cries. “To be betrothed to someone who you don't truly love must be a punishment for the soul.”

“I’ve been trying to avoid this all these years. Gods forbid a woman who wants to live a life free from all this nonsense," she muttered bitterly.

“You are to be the Princess of Dorne. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“But not with a Targaryen… someone who sees us as nothing more than goatfuckers.”

“Once you get to acquainted with one another, I’m certain he’ll see past the veil of prejudice that blinds the rest of Westeros.”

“Oh, we’re well past the point of acquaintances, and I’m certain we’ve both made it clear that we’d rather kill each other than push forward with this betrothal.”

“And yet, you've hardly spent a moment alone together, away from prying eyes. Forgive me if I'm wrong, my Princess, but this hostility you feel towards one another... it feels more like the weight of your houses than your own. He’s not truly wronged you, nor have you wronged him... well, apart from the few wounds you’ve exchanged.”

“I wish it were as simple as you say, but the hatred between our houses runs deeper than that trial. We’re talking about years of bloodshed, of lives torn apart by their desire to conquer what was never theirs. How can we ever forget that? If anything, those Targaryens are only reaping what they've sown.”

“I understand, Princess, but is it truly fair to place the sins of the forefathers upon their children? Yes, the Targaryens once sought to conquer Dorne, but they failed. And since then, they’ve left us to rule our lands. Why should Prince Jacaerys suffer for the wrongdoings of his ancestors when he himself hasn't harmed you?”

“You speak the truth, Melynda. But do you truly think the rest of the Dorne will see it that way?” She stared at her handmaiden's reflection. “The pain the Targaryens have caused... it’s not just written in our histories, it’s engraved into the souls of our people.”

“I’m not saying that your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys will reconcile your houses overnight, Princess. In fact, it may take generations to heal these wounds. However, if Queen Rhaenyra proves to be the rightful and just ruler she claims to be, and honours your demands... and you and Prince Jacaerys unite the Seven Kingdoms as promised, then mayhaps it could be the beginning of something.” 

Suddenly, both women were startled by a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Y/n cleared her throat.

“My Princess,” Ser Domeric said from the other side. “The guests have begun to arrive, and your presence is expected shortly.”

Princess Y/n quickly composed herself, ensuring that any trace of sorrow had vanished from her face, and replaced her semblance with a mask of indifference.

The late afternoon breeze crept through the palace windows, stirring the heavy air in the Hall but doing little to lift the mood. Spirits were low and the lingering music was drowned out by the quiet murmurs of the guests. Lords and ladies from House Yronwood to House Qorgyle had traversed across the arid deserts to Sunspear, not out of enthusiasm, but out of duty, their gazes shifting warily as they gathered to pay tribute to the Princess. Even Y/n herself, appeared as though she wished to be anywhere else.

At the high table, the Martells sat alongside the Targaryens, not able to look one another eye to eye. They faced the great houses, whose semblance didn’t hide their disdain for the dragonriders. They showed no efforts for forced pleasantries, bracing themselves for the next chapter of conflict rather than celebrating a wedding that would unite the Seven Kingdoms.

Before anything, Prince Qoren stood up, ready to speak before his people.

“It is truly an honour to welcome you all this evening, and I thank each and every one of you for making the long journey to Sunspear. Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate the betrothal of my beloved daughter, Princess Y/n Martell, to the Crown Prince Jacaerys Velaryon... but also, the union between House Martell and House Targaryen,” he spoke, the enthusiasm fading in his voice. 

The crowd fell into an immediate hush, the lords and ladies exchanging uncertain glances, some full of resentment, and some full of disgust. Y/n felt each pressing gaze suffocating her and tried to hide her discomfort behind the rim of her cup, already expecting those pessimistic reactions. After all, who in their right mind would willingly wed a Targaryen?

“Out of all of the suitors that have lost their lives willing to serve you and our realm, you chose to spare the one whose ancestors sought to conquer our lands?” Lady Liara from House Briar’s voice trembled, barely able to hold back her anger. “Could you not have shown mercy to my sweet boy Eldritch instead?”

The Princess had always been taught to hold back in such moments, especially in front of such a large audience, but before she could stop herself, the words were already spilling out of her mouth.

“My Lady,” Y/n began, trying to push down the feeling of irritation rising up her chest. “Remind me… who sent your son, alone, to seek my hand? As far as I know, someone that young shouldn’t be burdened with ‘providing me a strong heir’ or ‘making Dorne more prosperous than it already is.’ Those aren’t words a boy of three-and-ten should be speaking.” 

Lady Liara sank back to her seat with a scowl. The Princess’ gaze swept across the Hall, their faces etched with grief and bitterness, never forgetting the lives lost in pursuit of her hand. 

Whilst the guests sat in silence, waiting for either Prince Qoren or Princess Y/n to justify such a decision, Rhaenyra seized the moment to capture the crowd’s attention. She cleared her throat and rose slowly, her lilac eyes lingering on each guest, meeting the same eyes that had carried pent-up hatred for generations.

“By coming here, we are not denying the sins of House Targaryen,” she paused, allowing her words to settle, her gaze never leaving the crowd.  “I understand that to many of you, we are still the enemy. I am aware of the blood that was spilled and the pain that has lingered for generations. But the true enemies now are the Greens, who have usurped the Throne and seek to bring all of Westeros to its knees. And I know Dorne will not bend without a fight. Join us, and we will stand together. We can prevent the war that the Greens will bring to your lands.”

Despite Rhaenyra's words, the guests still mumbled with one another and her plea fell on indifferent ears. She clasped her hands together, holding her composure.

“So, the Greens are the enemies now, eh?" A voice echoing across the hall finally broke through the whispers. “To them, you are the usurper. And as far as we are concerned, they have yet to come to our lands to pester us with this petty war of yours.”

“Do not mistake their silence for mercy, my Lord. When they come, they will not ask. They will take. And by then, it may be too late to decide where your loyalties lie,” Daemon retorted.

“They have left us with no other choice,” Lord Lysander Dayne scowled. “Is this why you brought these beasts? So they can burn us if we refuse to join?”

Upon the mere mention of the dragons, the fear of the crowd became palpable. Prince Qoren’s face was flushed with anger, seeing that the celebration had somehow turned into a council meeting.

“Enough of this nonsense!” Prince Qoren bellowed, rising to his feet and jabbing his fist to the table. "We are here to celebrate the upcoming wedding of my daughter, not to squabble over this bloody war! If I hear more of it tonight, I’ll throw you in a pit of scorpions myself," his voice cut through the crowd, making the lords shrink back into their seats as he glared at Rhaenyra.

The music, which had momentarily ceased, began to play again. Princess Y/n exhaled deeply, gripping her cup as she swirled the crimson liquid. If she was going to endure the remainder of this night and persuade those thick-skulled lords to support Rhaenyra, she would need wine. A lot of it. She downed the first cup, the sweet taste lingering on her palate as her gaze shifted across the room, spotting the lords she had to sway.

Lord Lysander of House Dayne sat with his lady wife, his stern face etched with displeasure. He had made it clear where he stood, opposing any involvement in the war. Yet, he was infamously known for his ambition; he was the sort of man who would bend the knee for the right price, advancing his own house in exchange for his formidable army. Then there was Lord Thaddeus of House Yronwood, head of the second-most powerful house in Dorne, capable of providing enough supplies to sustain the armies at sea; a practical man, loyal to tradition, but always open to negotiation. On the other side of the Hall, she spotted Lord Ander of House Jordayne, who owned the largest fleet in Dorne.

Ser Domeric, being part of House Uller and their loyal informant, would provide whatever support was asked. And lastly, House Santagar, though not enthusiastic, had always been fiercely loyal to the Martells and would stand by their house regardless.

Despite the collective disappointment lingering in the air, as the feast came to an end, the guests stood up to salvage what remained of the evening. Jacaerys’ eyes followed Y/n as she rose from her seat, weaving through the multitude and making her way to Lord Lysander. The man bowed his head and extended his hand, offering the Princess a dance which she accepted with a smile that seemed far too charming than she would normally allow herself to be. Jacaerys couldn’t tear his gaze from Y/n, watching how she leaned towards Lord Lysander, her lips closely brushing his ear, as he nodded eagerly so as not to disappoint her.

“A celebration of our upcoming betrothal?” Jacaerys scoffed, already feeling his blood boil at the sight of the Princess with another man. Had they been at the Red Keep, the whispers would have already circled around, rumours of the Princess enjoying the company of other men, even while bound by a betrothal to him, that would call into question not only her honour but the legitimacy of their future children. He could already hear the council’s scandalous whispers behind closed doors–whispers that had been haunting him all his life.

“She’s quite gifted, isn’t she, my dear sister?” Elyas remarked, turning to Jacaerys. “She has a way of making men dance in the palm of her hand.”

“Only if one is foolish enough to fall for whatever games she is playing,” Jacaerys muttered.

Jacaerys and Elyas watched how Lord Lysander placed a kiss on top of her hand. With one final whisper, she slipped away from his arms and disappeared into the crowd, only to be seen again; that time with Lord Ander, who offered the Princess his hand without hesitation. 

“There are a couple of things you should know about her,” Elyas said with a sneer, glancing at the Princess. “One of them is… you’ll never be her only one.”

“You need not tell me what I can already see. It seems your sister is not familiar with the notion of faithfulness.”

“Faithfulness? As far as I’m aware, neither of you are bound by vows just yet,”  Elyas grinned, noting how Jacaerys clearly wasn’t enjoying the conversation. "But listen, this celebration isn’t meant for you to sulk in a corner, watching my sister dance with every lord in Dorne. It's for indulging. There’s a place not too far from the palace, where we know how to truly celebrate. Who knows? You might not even survive this war you’re throwing yourself into. You may as well enjoy the finest pleasures our land has to offer before it’s too late," Jacaerys’s knuckles whitened around his cup, his repulsion palpable, but Elyas only leaned in closer. 

As much as Jacaerys despised watching Princess Y/n flit from lord to lord, he wasn’t about to lower himself to her games. What was she trying to prove? Was she testing him, daring him to show any signs of jealousy or anger? Or mayhaps she was simply making it clear, once again, how much she misliked him?

Jacaerys refused to give Elyas the satisfaction of a response and merely shook his head. Elyas smirked, amused by Jacaerys' restraint, and stood up, ensuring he ruined the evening even more before leaving.

“Oh, and just so you know… whatever illusions you have about loyalty and honour, you'd best cast them aside. If you think my sister will suddenly change her ways after this betrothal of yours, then you’re completely wrong. I’m telling you now, she won’t. She’s as Dornish as they come… untamable and always chasing trouble. The more you tighten the leash, the more she’ll struggle to break free. And she’ll keep playing her games, whether you like them or not... so you better learn how to play them if you don't wish to end up as another one of her playthings,” Elyas said, slapping Jacaerys’ shoulder playfully before walking away.

Jacaerys hadn’t even realised how tightly he was clenching his jaw until the sound of Elyas and his sworn protector’s fading footsteps pulled him back to reality. He let out a breath, trying to shake off the bitterness away, and downed a gulp of wine.

But what he hadn’t noticed was a pair of dark wide eyes watching him from the other end of the table. It was Farien, whose gaze had been flickering between him and Elyas the whole time. When Jacaerys caught the boy's gaze, his expression softened. He set down his cup, watching how the little boy stood up and made his way over to him.

“If you marry my sister, does that mean you’ll become my brother?” Farien asked. 

“I suppose,” he forced a smile, though he wasn’t sure if the little boy was particularly glad about that.

Farien climbed on to the empty seat beside Jacaerys, glancing around the nearly deserted table and making sure none of his family members were nearby. All of the Martells were tending their own business, leaving the Targaryens seated in silence. The boy leaned in close, cupping his small hands around Jacaerys’s ear, scared that someone might hear what he had to say.

“So, does that mean I get to ride your dragon?” He whispered. 

Jacaerys looked at him, his eyes widening in surprise. 

“If your father allows you, then I suppose you could… but are you not afraid?” He asked.

“I’m really, really scared. But I wonder what it must feel like to see the world from up above. The closest I’ve ever gotten to flying is in my dreams, you know? It feels like I’m one of Father’s falcons, soaring high in the skies. Father says I have the gift to turn into one of them at night and watch over the desert,” he glanced up, his eyes gleaming in wonder.

Jacaerys looked at the boy and allowed himself to smile, as Farien somehow reminded him of his younger brother, Joffrey, whom he hadn't seen in a long time.

“Anyway,” Farien continued, “I think we could be brothers, you and I. We even look alike, see?” He pointed at Jacaerys’ curls. “It would be nice to have another brother... because, well, Elyas... he’s nice, sometimes. But not always.”

Jacaerys held back a scoff, figuring as much. 

“And what about your sister?” 

“We like sneaking sweets from the kitchens and feeding them to the horses,” Farien’s eyes suddenly lit up. “And she loves fighting, too. But not the angry, shouting kind, no. She says that sometimes, fighting feels like dancing, and that’s why she enjoys it. She’s really good at it. And I think you are too. But my sister is better.”

Just as he was about to ask Farien what other things his sister enjoyed, one of the little boy’s servants approached them. 

“My Prince, your father has sent me to take you back to your chambers to rest,” she smiled at the little boy, who had no choice but to accept dejectedly.

As the servant took him in her arms, Farien waved at Jacaerys with a small smile. He nodded at the little boy, unable to stop himself from smiling back.

“At least the little one is not as irritating as the rest of his family,” Rhaenyra said as her gaze softened, noticing how the little boy never tore his eyes from them as he got further and further.

“Give him a couple of years. He will turn out exactly like his older brother,” Daemon muttered. 

Then, Jacaerys' gaze trailed back to the Princess once again, who was still locked in a dance with Lord Ander. The exchange of whispers seemed to grow more intense, as his lips lingered on the shell of her ear, making her nod as her smile never left her lips.

“Jacaerys,” Daemon’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you not have a duty to fulfil?”

“I have been fulfilling them since the moment we arrived,” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As Jacaerys had been doing everything he could to uphold his duties, Daemon merely sat back, watching the spectacle he had set in motion unravel before him. 

“You have, but sitting and watching the Princess be courted by every lord in Dorne is not one of them. Listen to me, these men are doing everything in their power to pull her away from our alliance since they can see she does not favour you,” he paused leaning in closer. “You are no stranger to this. If you two are to rule the Seven Kingdoms, she needs to be seen by your side.”

Jacaerys rose from his seat as he exhaled, growing frustrated by the second. It was all in the name of duty, after all. He headed towards the Princess with steady steps, disappearing into the crowd and dodging every drunken lord and lady that stood in his way. Lord Ander, who seemed to have more intentions than just dancing with the Princess, held her close, too close, his hands lingering on her waist. 

“My Lord,” Jacaerys cleared his throat, barely containing himself. Lord Ander snapped his head towards his direction. “I would hate to interrupt your conversation, but the hour is quite late, and Princess Y/n needs to rest.”

“Is that so?” He pulled Y/n even closer to him, making Jacaerys’ blood boil. “How come the Princess seems to be enjoying herself?”

Jacaerys’ eyes flicked to the cup in her hand, the liquid threatening to spill from the rim. He wasn’t a stranger to that dazed look and that loose smirk playing on her lips. 

“The Princess seems to have indulged in one too many cups. You may continue whatever… conversation you were having on the morrow, my Lord,” Jacaerys forced his words through his teeth. 

“Is that an order from the Crown Prince? Or from a boy who is still learning how to hold a woman’s interest?” Lord Ander raised a brow, sliding his hand even lower on her waist. 

The Princess’ gaze flicked between the two men, unaware of the escalating tension. She took another sip from her cup, her eyes landing on Jacaerys, finally acknowledging how dashing he looked in a Dornish ensemble of deep blues and golds.

“Gods, spare me,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “You two sound like you’re ready to start another war.”

“If it means winning your favour, Princess,” Lord Ander said with a grin.

“Mayhaps that's a battle for another day. Besides, the Prince is right, the hour is quite late,” she said softly, growing tired at the show of bravado between the two men. She moved away from Lord Ander and took a step towards Jacaerys.

Jacaerys, whose heart was pounding with both anger and relief, offered her his arm. Y/n would’ve hesitated at first, but under the effects of wine, any qualms were long gone. She noted how he tensed his arm uncomfortably, unaware that she was putting pressure on the wound she had given him not too long ago. 

Casymir leaned against one of the pillars with a hint of amusement on his face, watching the whole scene unfold before his eyes. Once Jacaerys and Y/n were away from the crowd, he finally pushed himself off the pillar, approaching Jacaerys, who was struggling to keep her in place.

“Allow me, my Prince. The Princess is in good hands with me,” he said, extending his arm. 

Jacaerys glared at Casymir as he adjusted her weight in his arm, wondering what he was smiling for.

“You are the Princess’ sworn protector, are you not?” He raised his brow. 

“Yes, my Prince,” he smiled proudly.

“Yet all you did was stand and watch how the Princess wandered into the clutches of men with less than noble intentions,” Jacaerys tried to keep his composure, though his anger simmered beneath the surface.

“Do you question my service to the Princess, my Prince?” He chuckled, brushing the Prince’s concerns aside. “The Princess was in no immediate danger. And as far as I’m aware, a dance with a lord hardly constitutes a threat.”

“If you think a man whose ulterior motives are clearly written in his face not to be dangerous, then mayhaps we have very different understandings of the word danger,” Jacaerys said. 

“You greatly misunderstand the Princess. Lord Ander was eager, but he knew better than to cross the line. And besides, she would’ve ended his attempts long before you stepped in. As you might have already… experienced, the Princess knows how to handle herself and hardly needs to be coddled,” his blue eyes trailed at the way their arms were intertwined. “Though, it seems she doesn’t mind letting you try.”

“So, what are you here for, then? Just for decoration?”  

“Is picking fights with other men a favourite pastime of yours, my Prince?” The Princess laughed, poking fun at Jacaerys as she unconsciously tightened her grip around his injured arm. “You do seem to have a talent for making enemies wherever you go.”

Jacaerys hesitated, unsure if replying to the Princess was even worth the efforts given her current state, so he merely scoffed, shaking his head in defeat. However, one thing he couldn’t ignore was the feeling of having her so close as she mindlessly ran her hand up and down the length of his arm. He tried to calm his heart, but he couldn’t keep his composure with each stroke of her fingers that made him lean into her touch ever so slightly.   

Once they reached the Princess’ chambers, Casymir leaned on the door, his arms crossed with an infuriatingly calm expression on his face. 

“If you wish to be escorted back to your chambers, my Prince, I can call for a servant,” Casymir offered, implying that Jacaerys had overstayed his welcome.

“No. I wish to stay. The Princess and I have a few words to exchange,” he said.

“I’ll be fine, Cas,” the Princess slurred, assuring her sworn protector with a slow nod.

“As you wish, my Princess. I'll be just outside, should you require any assistance.”

Jacaerys stood by the door, unsure of what to do now that he was inside the Princess’ chambers. It wasn’t improper of him, as her soon-to-be husband, to be seen there, so he found himself leaning against the wall, trying to regain the composure that he had repeatedly lost throughout the night. His eyes trailed around the intricately carved golden statues that adorned the corners and the colourful tapestries that swayed slightly, catching the faint breeze that slipped through the windows and bringing with it the distant murmurs of the ongoing celebration. 

Only when he heard a soft clink and the steady stream of wine being poured into a cup, he snapped out of his thoughts. Before he could even think, he turned to Y/n, walking towards her and snatching the cup and jug from her hands, causing her mouth to hang open in disbelief and indignation. 

“You will not drink any more tonight,” he ordered, pouring the liquid out of the window and slamming the cup aside.  

“Well, isn’t this absolutely perfect?” She spat, throwing her arms in the air in defeat. “Not only will you take away my freedom, but now you wish to take away one of the few things that bring me joy?”

“You must live a very miserable life, Princess, if wine and men are the few things in life that bring you joy,” Jacaerys burst out, no longer able to contain the pent-up anger that had been brewing all night.

“Oh, believe me, I’ll have a miserable life once I marry you.”

“And what makes you think I want to marry you? That behaviour of yours… is unacceptable,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I do not wish to marry someone who is a slave to their desires.”

“A slave to my desires? Is that what you think of me?” Y/n shouted, unable to control the fury taking over her voice.

“What else am I supposed to think when you go from lord to lord like a marionette whose strings had been cut?” He paused, taking in her dishevelled appearance. “I was not aware how these Dornishmen could name someone so ruthless and so debauched as their Princess.” 

“And I didn’t know you Targaryens go around crowning bastards just to keep your house on the Throne,” she spat, making sure to rest her gaze on his dark eyes and on his brown locks long enough.

“You whore–!”

Before Jacaerys could finish his sentence, Y/n's palm collided with his cheek in a stinging slap, his head snapping to the side. His eyes widened, more in shock than pain, as his hand instinctively rose to the reddening mark on his face.

“A whore? A savage? A goatfucker?” Y/n's voice trembled with fury. “Is that all you see me as?” She shoved him hard, sending him stumbling backward until his back hit the wall. Her finger jabbed into his chest with every word. “You,” she spat, “should be thanking me for getting my hands dirty, persuading those lords to join your petty war!”

Jacaerys was stunned into silence momentarily, feeling every ounce of her rage bleeding through her words.

“And who told you to do that on your own?” Jacaerys shot back. “You could have asked me, we could have gone together and spoken to them like it is expected of us!”

“You overestimate yourself,” she scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do you even know what those lords think of you? Of your family? If it weren’t for our betrothal, they would have driven a spear through your chests without a second thought. Because to them, you Targaryens are nothing but bloodthirsty murderers who’ve come to take our lands all over again.”

“Enough!” Jacaerys grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her, slamming her against the wall. “You think I do not know that? You think I do not feel it every time I step into a room? The way they look at me? At my family? You think I enjoy being the enemy?” He seethed, feeling his throat grow raw with each word. “Gods, you are infuriating,” he grunted, realising how close their faces were to one another. 

The Princess’ lips curled into a smirk, a flicker of satisfaction lingering in her eyes. She had struck a nerve, realising how Jacaerys was always quick to react to whatever blasphemous speech she had to say about his family, and once again, she had managed to unleash the dormant wrath that blinded his actions. 

As the Princess found herself cornered between his arms and the wall, she crouched low, slipping beneath his arms in a fluid motion and spinning around to pin Jacaerys against the wall, pressing her chest to his back. Jacaerys reacted instinctively, kicking off the wall to shove her back. The sudden force sent her stumbling as she crashed on the ground, and he followed, landing on top of her in a tangle of limbs.

Just as he was about to stand up, Y/n yanked him back down and rolled on top of him, keeping him in place by locking her thighs around his waist and pinning his arms on the floor with one swift movement. Truth be told, Jacaerys could have easily pushed her away as her usual strength was halved by the wine; yet he remained still, feeling the warmth of Y/n’s body pressed into his, and how their faces were inches apart yet again, her breath hot on his skin.

Once again, he found himself under her mercy.

She stared down at him with half-lidded eyes and lips slightly open as she breathed lightly, taking in the sight of Jacaerys’ flushed face and his gaze clouded by desire. Jacaerys looked up at her and gulped, feeling his erection stirring uncomfortably beneath his breeches.

His eyes locked onto her plump lips and trailed towards to the hollow of her neck, down to her chest. He stared hungrily as she leaned towards him, his fingertips itching to explore the skin hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. As she got closer and closer to his face, Jacaerys’ breath hitched, and without realising it, his lips parted slightly as his eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. His pulse quickened, waiting for the warmth of her lips pressing against his.

But instead of the kiss he craved, he felt the hot caress of her breath graze the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Her voice, low and smooth, held him captive with each honeyed word.

“If you want to win this little war of yours, you better start by respecting me,” she whispered as she let go of one of his wrists and began tracing delicate patterns with her finger. “Just because I’ve chosen you as my betrothed doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind,” she bucked her hips against his hardened cock, causing Jacaerys to groan at the sudden spark of pleasure coursing in his veins. 

In that very moment, Y/n had uncovered yet another emotion—the primal desire that, despite her infuriating attitude, she had managed to set ablaze. If Jacaerys had to ask himself how it happened, he wouldn’t know where to begin answering. Had it all started when they first met, when she held little regard for him? Was it in the arena, when she brazenly humiliated him in front of everyone? Or was it the fact that they always seemed to find themselves pointing a blade at each other’s throats? Behind all that anger and hatred, and the prejudice that blinded him from seeing the Princess as she truly was, lay a spark of curiosity. Something he knew that once he began to explore, that spark would turn into wildfire.

With each passing second, he fought against the temptation to place his hands on the curve of her hips and make her grind herself against his cock.

“Remember, my Prince,” she purred in his ear, bucking her hips once again. “The wedding has not taken place yet, and anything could happen.” 

A/N: For some reason, i keep beating my wordcount record. istg my fanfic wc is way bigger than all of my uni papers combined, and bare in mind i was a humanities student lmfaooo.

anyway, i feel like this chapter was a mess. jace's patience continuously getting tested by everyone, and our reader making things even harder for him. i actually feel sorry for those two but the way they are handling things is not very demure, mindful or cutesy. we got the exact opposite.

Taglist: @happinessinthebeing @deltamoon666 @dark1paradise @elz-zalarrr @v0dka4a (continued in comments)

[scribendis]

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐚

Daemon Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, profanity, these two are SO horny, dirty talk, p in v sex, size kink ish, breeding kink ish, just a little bit of throat grabbing Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~5,100

Summary: Mere months after their wedding, Daemon left his young bride to join the War in the Stepstones. His victory and subsequent return to King's Landing three years later meant that his wife would never spend another night alone in their bed.

A/N: I hope all my Daemon girls out there enjoy! This one's dedicated to you! Also, this is barely proofread and not beta'd. Lordy help me. Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link | Wattpad link

Mini HV glossary for ~future reference: ābrazȳrītsos - little wife ñuha dōna - my sweet issa - yes

Prince Daemon Targaryen had not been her father’s first choice of husband for her. It had, in fact, been the lord’s intention to marry her - his youngest child and only daughter - to King Viserys following the death of his queen. The prospect of such an arrangement brought her immense pride, for her house would benefit greatly from the wealth and status that would follow. But, by the time their wheelhouse finally passed through the gates of King’s Landing, the marriage between the king and Lady Alicent Hightower had already been set in stone. 

The king had thus suggested that she wed his younger brother instead, a prospect that her lord father balked at at first. Prince Daemon’s reputation certainly preceded him. No man called the “Rogue” anything had any right to take his precious daughter to wife. But when the Rogue Prince placed a wreath of flowers on her head and proclaimed her the Queen of Love and Beauty upon winning the tourney held in celebration of the king’s wedding, her betrothal to him was all but assured. 

She allowed herself to be wooed by him and his devilish smile, feeling herself falling harder and harder for him each time she caught his gaze from across rooms and banquet tables. There could be one hundred people between them and their eyes would always seem to find one another. His, more often than not, studied far more than her pretty face, trailing downward to her ample breasts or the curve of her waist. 

She had been told that Daemon was no great lover of dancing, but he offered his hand to her during every occasion that had musicians in attendance. And that hand found itself, more often than not, wandering dangerously past her hips as they moved about the dance floor. She was blissfully unaware of the fact that the prince would fuck his fist each night afterward at the thought of the places his hands had touched and what they might look like once he tore her clothes from her body. 

It was no wonder, then, that Daemon made certain that she fulfilled her wifely duties as soon as they were wed. He was barely able to make it through their wedding feast without whisking her away to finally claim her. But that night, he ensured that the entire Red Keep knew exactly whose wife she was.

In those first days of their marriage, she felt that she hardly left their marriage bed. When her presence was required at court, she walked with such an ache in her thighs and between her legs that she wished she could lounge about in bed all day. Each morning, without fail, their shared chambers still held the warm, musky scent of their coupling from the night before. It lingered on the sheets and on her skin throughout the day, only encouraging her husband’s desires further once he returned to her side. 

But their time together, it turned out, would be short lived. She and Daemon had hardly been married for three moons before Lord Corlys Velaryon’s invitation to join his house in the War for the Stepstones brought him hundreds of leagues away from her. Daemon could not refuse, for the potential glory of battle - his greatest chance to prove his worth to the realm - was a far more alluring prize than even his beautiful new wife. The kiss goodbye he gave her before climbing on the back of his dragon tasted bitter on her tongue.

She did not see her lord husband for three years. Life at court became a lonely thing. She was without children to care for or a husband to tend to. What she had was a husband whose actions in the Stepstones seemed to ripple all the way back to the Red Keep. To her. Slowly but surely, she watched her image deteriorate from that of a prince’s wife to that of a social pariah. How ashamed she must have been of her husband, the other ladies would whisper when they thought she was not listening - and, sometimes, when they knew that she was. 

Their shunning of her only worsened as news continued to trickle in about the rising victory of the Triarchy. She would sometimes linger outside of the Small Council chambers and trail after Ser Tyland Lannister in search of any information he had regarding her husband. Toward the end of the war, none of his news was good. She had come to accept that she would awake any day now a widow at the tender age of one and twenty. 

Until the morning that her maidservant burst through her door and all but shook her awake, uttering what, to her, was a garbled mess of words in her half-asleep state. But she did process enough to know one thing: Daemon had been spotted returning to King’s Landing. 

She rarely wore the colors of her husband’s house, opting instead for her own house colors. But today, as she followed the crowd into the throne room, she wore a striking dress of blood red the same hue as her husband’s dragon, Caraxes, and a necklace of rubies to match. Today, she was once again a Targaryen bride. 

She caught the eyes of some of the women who had spent the last three years lambasting her for her husband’s deeds. For his failures. She barely regarded them as she pushed past, her head held high and a smirk painting her lips. But, briefly catching the shocked look on Lord Beesbury’s wife, which somehow made the old woman look even more like a pigeon than she already did, she felt validation run warm through her veins. This would stop their wagging tongues.

In her place near the front of the throne room, she and everyone else watched Daemon approach the king. She had hoped but not suspected that he would find her among the crowd, so when his eyes flickered to her for a fleeting moment, she felt warmth radiate down her entire spine. 

Though he had looked away to address his brother, she did not take her eyes off of him for even a second. His silvery-blonde hair, now cut short, gave her an admirable view of his face and neck. Though obviously kissed by the sun, his skin also bore other changes. Forehead creases and other new wrinkles, likely from frowning or stress or both. A mottled, pink scar painted the right side of his neck and disappeared below his armor. She dreaded to think about just how far it went and how many others lay beneath his clothes. 

Truthfully, their time together before his departure had been so brief that she could not quite put her finger on all of the ways in which the war had changed him physically. From where he stood, the light pouring in from one of the high windows behind him highlighted a small scar just beside his right eyebrow. Did he have that before? She could not remember just now.

There would be plenty of time for her to relearn her husband’s body anew, just as he would hers. She did not realize how lonely a place the marriage bed could be with her husband so far away for so long. All she could hope was that he would still find her pleasing after their years apart.

Their reunion, it seemed, would have to wait, for the king was eager to whisk Daemon away from the eyes of the court following his return. Her disappointment meant little when measured against the wishes of the king, even though the ache in her heart felt all too real as she watched the brothers ascend the steps out of the throne room. 

She fielded several congratulatory remarks and other words of praise for her husband from those around her - the very same individuals who had spent years speaking naught but ill about him, whether to her face or behind her back. But she had known all along that Daemon would prove them wrong. 

The dispersing crowd soon filtered out of the throne room, with some individuals most assuredly sharing whispered words of gossip with their neighbors and others simply wondering when the celebratory feast would be held. She was one of the last to exit the room, a dizzying mixture of anticipation, relief, and disappointment churning in her stomach. 

So when a hand caught her by the throat and another by her upper arm as she ascended the stone steps into the hallway, she was taken completely by surprise. She hardly had time to let out a frightened gasp before a familiar voice breathed into her ear.  

“Will you not welcome the prince home from war, my lady?”

Her fear washed off of her just as quickly as it had come. Heaving a sigh, she smiled. “Daemon.” 

He turned her on the spot so they were face to face, his hand moving to hold her by the nape of her neck so she could not pull away. But she would not have done so even if he had not held her in such a way. 

“Gods, you scared me,” she continued. If he could only feel the way her heart was racing in her breast at his little stunt.

His bottom lip stuck out in a feigned pout. “And here I thought my dear wife would be excited to see me.” He placed his forefinger beneath her chin to tilt her face upward, his violet eyes studying the planes of her face as though he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

“She is.” 

A satisfied grin tugged at Daemon’s lips at the warmth of her remark, though he did not release her from his embrace. Rather, he pulled her closer and leaned down to claim her lips for the first time since his departure. To kiss him felt so familiar, yet also like a distant dream of a time long past. He allowed his lips to linger, savoring the moment as though they did not have dozens of onlookers watching them. 

“Should you not be with the king?” she murmured against his lips but felt him smirk.

“I have had to look at my brother’s ugly face since before I can remember,” Daemon replied, running his hand down the length of her spine until it came to rest in the small of her back. “I would rather have a moment alone with my pretty wife.”

That he had forgotten her or, at least, his burgeoning feelings for her during his years in the Stepstones had been a great worry of hers. He had been all too enthusiastic to leave her side and partake in the war to begin with. She often thought that, should he return one day, the two of them would be no more than strangers to one another. That whatever spark that had ignited between them in the early days of their marriage would have long since burned out.

But she recognized the look in his eyes as they roamed her face and continued downward, along the exposed line of her collarbone and shoulders before going even further. They ravaged her form as they had on all those evenings both before and after they were wed. He was entranced by the way her crimson gown enhanced her womanly shape. No doubt, he was toying with the thought of tearing it from her body right here and now, and reclaiming what was his for the entire court to see.

The mere prospect of such an act sent heat rushing through her lower stomach that pooled between her legs. She hadn’t worn her smallclothes beneath her gown today, remembering how tedious her husband had always found the extra barrier to be. He would have discovered that, if only he would have taken her by the hand and led her to their quarters. 

“You heard what I told my brother,” Daemon continued, his breath feather soft and warm on her cheek. “About the title they bestowed upon me in the Stepstones.”

“King of the Narrow Sea,” she whispered, feeling her mouth go dry as she watched the violet of his eyes become consumed by black. “But… you gave your crown to His Grace.”

Daemon clicked his tongue as he would in disappointment at a child. “Would my wife not have me be her king?”

Gods, she began to ache with need at such a question. She knew he noticed every flutter of her eyelashes, every rise and fall of her breast, every lick of her lips. He was an animal playing with its food, enjoying the act of teasing her. Testing her to see if she had missed him. 

“She would.” Her reply came out hoarsely, which only made the wicked smile on his lips widen further.

“And that would make you my queen,” he cooed as their noses brushed against one another. “Queen of the Narrow Sea.” His thumb moved slowly along the line of her jaw until it found the soft spot just beneath it where her pulse was hammering against her throat and pressed lightly.

She swallowed hard. “Queen of… of rocks and crabs and sand,” she said in jest, a paltry attempt at distracting herself from the now unbearable ache between her thighs. 

Daemon chuckled shortly. “But my queen nonetheless.” His lips moved to her ear to deal their final blow. “Do not think that I have forgotten the sweet sounds of your moans, ābrazȳrītsos,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble like that of a dragon’s echoing throughout the Dragonpit. “Or the even sweeter taste of your cunt.”

She could not stay the soft whimper that fell from her lips. Her body practically trembled with unfulfilled need - three years of it. What a devil her husband was for inflicting such torment on her, and in clear view of every nobleman and servant who walked past. 

And he was even worse for withdrawing from her completely and regarding her with a saccharine grin, though the dark lustfulness in his eyes belied his sudden pleasantry.

“My brother unfortunately demands my company just now, ñuha dōna, but rest assured…” He looked her up and down hungrily once more before stepping around her in a single languid step. “I shall be treating you like a queen tonight.”

Her eyes scanned the page of the open book that was draped across her lap, but the words may as well have been written in Lhazareen. She had gone over this page a dozen times but retained nothing, plagued by thoughts of her husband as she was. 

The sun had long since set and here she sat, alone, by the fire waiting for him. Of course, the king was not to be denied his brother’s presence and she knew that Daemon was certainly basking in the attention and praise that was being showered on him. But she would still hold him to his promise.

Having given up on her paltry attempt at reading, she rose. Her bare feet carried her restlessly back and forth across the cool flagstone floor of the bedchambers that her husband had not slept in for three long years. With every turn, her eyes flitted to the door as though she could will it open with her mind alone.  

“Seven hells, Daemon,” she sighed. 

She had not sated her own desire after her husband had left her wanting earlier, so the anticipation of their reunion this evening had only continued festering inside her throughout the day. It gnawed at her now, an itch that only he could scratch. 

What could she do to prepare for him, she wondered? There was no use in changing into a nightgown that would only end up on the floor. She had no wish to drink herself into a haze that would rob her of the pleasures of their lovemaking. In the end, she decided to perch herself before her vanity and remove the jewels adorning her neck, ears, and fingers. They would only get in the way.

It was when she dipped her head to unclasp her necklace that she heard the heavy wooden door push open. Her eyes immediately snapped to the mirror in front of her, only to see her husband already leaning against the far wall, admiring her. The mere sight of his lips curled into a half smirk was enough to send a rush of heat through her lower belly.

“Do you require assistance with that, ābrazȳrītsos?”

Daemon did not wait for an answer before he pushed himself away from the wall and sauntered over to her. Sneakily placing something on the cushion beside her, he took his place behind her and lifted his hands to remove her necklace. 

“Red was always so becoming on you,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, admiring the color of the rubies against her skin before carelessly tossing the necklace onto the vanity. “You were destined to be a Targaryen bride.”

Her eyes fell closed as she felt his lips move downward to press to her neck. “Yes, I think I was.”

“Keep your eyes closed.” His words were a soft hum against her skin. “I have something to give you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. With her eyes closed, she could hear the rustle of his tunic as he turned. Smell the sweet aroma of wine on his breath. Feel the warmth of his arms enveloping her. Then, there was the cool touch of metal on her forehead and the sudden weight of something in her hair. His fingers gathered the long strands of hair that she had already unbraided and brushed, pulling them to one side of her neck. Once again, his lips found her ear.

“Open.”

She found her image in the mirror again and beheld his gift to her. A circlet cast in what she assumed was Valyrian steel with glittering rubies mounted along the front of the band. It fit her head perfectly and complemented the color of her hair in a way that no other accessory ever had before. When she reached a hand up to touch it, Daemon caught her fingers and brought them to his lips.

“Oh, it’s beautiful…” she breathed. The smile that lit up her features elicited one of his own. “This is what kept you, isn’t it?”

A look of pride flashed in his eyes. “My queen deserved a crown.”

She turned around in her chair to face him, her smile gone and her brow furrowed. The gesture was a lovely one, but it would be an insult to Queen Alicent for her to ever wear this publicly. And she had already spent the last few years as an outcast at court; she would never take risk worsening the others’ view of her. “Daemon, I-I couldn’t possibly wear this. Not at court…”

“Then wear it for me,” he crooned, slowly smoothing his hands along the warm skin of her exposed shoulders. “And nothing else.”

She couldn’t bear it any longer or deny her burning need for him. He could ask anything of her and she would submit. He had her in the palm of his hand and he knew it. 

“How… how do you say ‘queen’ in High Valyrian?” Her voice was but a breath, trembling and full of lasciviousness.

Daemon smiled crookedly. “Dāria.” His thumb brushed across the spot on her neck where he could feel her hammering pulse, just as it had earlier. “Ñuha dāria.”

She knew enough of his mother tongue to know what that meant. 

My queen.

“And ‘king?’” Her throat felt painfully dry, now.

He leaned forward, his gaze reflecting a mixture of playfulness and possessiveness. “Dārys.”

She watched as what little was left of violet in his eyes was overtaken by the black of his pupils. His hand at the side of her neck squeezed slightly. His nostrils flared. And, all the while, he wore the same half-smirk on those lips of his that she wanted to kiss every last inch of her. 

“Say it,” he growled.

“Ñuha dārys.”

Their lips crashed together in a devouring kiss far more passionate than the one they had shared in the hall that afternoon. Daemon easily lifted her into his arms and bore her toward their bed, just as he had on the night that they were married. He did not break their kiss for even a second, not to breathe or to utter soft words of yearning and love. They had so much lost time to make up for and tonight would only be a start.

With barely any care for the intricately sewn gold buttons that trailed down the back of the dress, his hands began to rip the garment open. He tore at the red fabric with the ferocity of a beast while his tongue danced with hers. They were caught in a swirling storm of desire and longing, heat and passion - and they were perfectly content to let it sweep them away together. 

Buttons scattered across the flagstone floor to be lost forever underneath the heavy furnishings, and soon her dress joined them as it fell in a heap beside their bed. Daemon’s roguish smirk returned when his hands cupped her bare arse and pressed her against him. 

“It’s hardly befitting of my queen to strut about the palace without smallclothes like a common whore.” He bit down gently on her bottom lip and relished in the soft mewl that rose in her throat. “Any man could…” 

As his voice trailed off, she felt his fingertips ghost over her hip before moving to her center and sliding into her wet heat. His fingers curled inside her immediately, expertly finding her most pleasurable spot as though it had not been years since he had last fucked her. A stuttering, wanton moan left her, only encouraging him to continue.

“...take advantage.” 

Daemon coaxed her back onto their bed, never pulling his hand away from where, with rapacious speed, he was already bringing her to the brink of the most carnal pleasure. But as she pushed herself up onto her elbows in search of his lips, he pulled back.

“Uh uh,” he hummed. “Look at me, ābrazȳrītsos.” He no longer wished to kiss her, choosing instead to watch her with the same darkened eyes as he had earlier. He saw it all. The way her half-lidded eyes struggled to stay on his, the way her brow twitched and furrowed, the way her neck strained with effort. 

And she was ablaze beneath him, the dragon’s touch inside her reigniting a fire that she had not felt in so long. The warmth of it began to spread through her as his fingers swiftly brought her to her release, which spread through every limb until it consumed her like a wildfire in the countryside. 

There was a grin of satisfaction on Daemon’s face when she opened her eyes again. To him, no sight could have been better than that of her beneath him, breathless, with flushed skin as she lay in the haze of her release. And to her, the image of him licking her wetness from his fingers with such lecherous desire in his eyes could have finished her once more. 

He sat back on his haunches to remove his doublet and tunic, which joined her gown on the floor as though they may as well have been dirty rags. She barely had time to study his bare torso, scarred and more muscular than it had been when she had seen it last, before he was upon her again. When he leaned over her to kiss her, her own hands took over and began to fumble at the closure of his breeches. 

“My poor little wife,” he rasped, “left without a husband to fill her all this time.”

Her lips curled into a sly grin that she knew he could feel against his lips. “Perhaps I have taken a lover in your absence.”

“Name the man and I shall have his head.” Daemon spoke in jest, she knew, but she also surmised that a certain level of sincerity lay beneath his words. Any man that would dare touch the wife of the Rogue Prince would incur his wrath. “Nay, his cock, and he may live out the rest of his days as a eunuch. Perhaps I will have him sent away to become an Unsullied or a priest of Boash.” 

He watched her face intently as her trembling fingers finished their work at his breeches. She had already been brought to pleasure but the sight of his thick, hard cock emerging from his trousers as she pushed them down renewed that same need inside her like an ember that had been rekindled into a blaze. A memory bloomed in her mind of when she had first laid eyes on his manhood on the night of their wedding and how she had doubted that it could even fit inside her. She found herself considering the same thought now.

“O-on the contrary,” she managed, dotting her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “I have had to pleasure myself.”

“Oh?” Daemon’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted as his hand lifted to her chin to hold her gaze so she had no choice but to see his lust. “I would have you show me sometime, ñuha dāria,” he purred with voracious need. “But for the rest of tonight? You will not cum anywhere but on my cock.” 

He took her firmly by the hips, his calloused fingertips digging into her skin as he pulled her with him so that she straddled him. And then, in a brief moment of tenderness that barely concealed his near-animalistic desire, he twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers. “Know this: your cunt shall never go unfilled again. And perhaps I will put a babe in you, now that I am home.”

“Please.” Her voice, though barely a whisper, was heavy with want.

“Issa, ñuha dāria.” 

Daemon pulled her hips down so that she sank onto his cock, too impatient to give his wife any time to adjust after three years apart. A soft whine left her at the sudden fullness, the way he stretched her as though he had claimed her maidenhead for a second time. He did not let even a second go to waste before he began to guide her movements atop him. She was at the mercy of his hands, which demanded her pleasure and the closeness of her body without remorse. 

What he need not demand was the sweet cries of ecstasy that passed her lips, which filled their bedchambers and, likely, spilled into the hall outside of their door. They felt almost sinful to listen to and, yet, were the most beautiful sounds that he had ever heard.  

“Gods… Daemon…” she moaned, her body arching into him. She had spent so many nights whispering his name into the darkness of their bedchambers as she brought herself to release at the thought of him. But to have him beneath her, inside her, around her once again was pure bliss.

At the sound of his name on her lips, Daemon pressed his face between her breasts and groaned hoarsely. “That’s it, ābrazȳrītsos,” he panted against her flushed skin, his fingers moving further to grasp her by the arse and pull her closer. 

It would not be the gods that would make her cum tonight; it would be him.

She could feel it, the pleasure beginning to tighten inside her. She was at his mercy, lost in the feeling of him bucking his hips up into her and the sensation of his lips at her breasts. It felt impossible that one should experience such rapturous delight as this. In every touch and every choked growl that left him, she could sense that he felt exactly the same. 

“Daemon, please–” Her words left her as a high-pitched squeak, signaling to him just how close she was to falling over the edge. Her body began to tense, her thighs trembling on either side of his hips. Her hands flew to his upper arms, grasping and almost pushing, as if to try and escape the wave of pleasure that was fast approaching. 

But he would not let her go until it consumed them both.  

With his hands still at her hips, Daemon pushed her backward until she was buried in the soft blanket that had been so perfectly laid atop their bed mere moments ago. His body sunk into hers, taking over from her previous ministrations atop him as her hands anchored themselves to his shoulders. He rutted into her like an animal, starved as he had been of her body for the last three years. 

She felt herself shudder when his lips planted kisses along her jawline and moved up until they found her mouth. He swallowed every desperate moan that left her, the taste of them growing sweeter and sweeter the closer she came to her peak. 

Her walls began to clench around him, her breath hitching with his every thrust. Any words she may have uttered only coiled at her throat, her thoughts meaningless as the building pleasure finally unfurled inside her. He held her steadfastly as she came around him, his touch her only lifeline as the heat and delirium ravished her completely. 

“Cum with me,” she gasped against his lips. He would have kept going, brought her to another peak before finishing, but her soft plea was enough to end him, too.

“Fuck…” he groaned, thrusting into her one final time as he spilled himself inside her. 

And when their shared pleasure had passed, her vice-like grip on his shoulders released. The light touches of her fingertips traveled across his back, feeling each new scar that he had acquired in the Stepstones. But he relished in her gentle touch after so many years of war, and allowed himself to collapse against her. 

The weight of his body was soothing, his warmth a balm for her lonely heart. Their breaths slowed and, soon, the only sounds in the room came from the fireplace opposite their bed. It crackled and burned, its radiant heat intermingling with the lingering warmth of their coupling. 

Daemon eventually lifted his head again and reached a hand up to straighten the circlet that had half fallen off of her head in their final throes of passion. He paused to admire the sight of her, still in a daze and wearing a sleepy smile on her lips. He kissed her once more and, when he withdrew, she saw that his eyes had regained some of their earlier hunger.

“Do not think that I am finished with you, ñuha dāria.” 

[kyber-crystal]

red thread || jake “hangman” seresin

summary: fate has a funny way of bringing people together, and it’s made no exception for you and hangman. you’ve grown up together; there's not a day that goes by in which you aren't glued to each others' sides. as kids, you promised each other that if you were still single at 30 you'd get married. but when that day finally arrives, you wonder just how much things will change.

words: ~2.3k

warnings: nothing. unless you’re like me and commitment scares you, then yeah lmao. hangman is an absolute gentleman in this though :) biggest TW is my writing...sorry. idk what happened. some slight mentions of angst and injury but nothing graphic :)

a/n: mannn my writing has gone downhill idk how yall other talented writers do it. i wish i could write that well 😭but, i’m proud of this...plotwise, at least! (my fics are doing so bad for some reason while everyone else seems to be blowing up??? idk) btw, the first part of this fic takes place two years before tgm

It was 1:30 a.m, and you couldn’t fall asleep. 

It seemed that Hangman had the same idea as you as he told you to meet him outside the Hard Deck in five. The coastal air and Jake Seresin was the perfect combination to help you unwind, so of course you said yes. 

“There she is,” he grinned as he offered a helping hand. “My favorite fellow insomniac.”

“Nightmares keep you up, Jake?” you teased. “What’s the matter this time?”

“Same as you. Don’t feel like sleeping yet,” Hangman answered. “Can you believe it? We’re awake, and Fanboy and Payback aren’t.”

“Now that’s a first,” you laughed. “Thought I’d never live to see that day, but here we are.”

“We’re making history day by day.”

“You know…sometimes,” you breathed out as you rested your head on his shoulder, “I wonder what it’d be like if we never met.”

“Didn’t you ask that same question fifteen years ago?”

“We were much younger back then. It’s different now.”

“Well, then…I don’t like to imagine it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“It’d be weird. You’ve always been a big part of my life, so to think you almost could’ve not been in it…it’s weird. Uncomfortable, even.”

“Yeah, it is weird…” your voice trailed off as you lingered on the thought. You’ve always done everything together. How different would your lives be now if you hadn’t become friends; hadn’t stayed in touch through college? “But don’t be sad, because I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

Hangman gave you a light punch in the arm. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.”

“You know, Y/N…there’s one more thing.”

“Uh oh.”

“Hear me out,” he started. “Remember that deal we made when we were kids?”

“The one about helping each other bury a body if needed, or getting married?”

“The second one…I thought the first was a given since the day we met. That’s something all friends are supposed to do for each other, right? Bury bodies, hide their trails…all that good stuff.”

“What about the second one?”

“We’re turning 30 soon,” he recounted. Any and all traces of cockiness were completely wiped off his face. “And we said that if we’re both still single by the time our 30th birthdays roll around, we’d get married.”

You smiled as you revisited the memory: wide-eyed and curious, and so blissfully unaware with the only worry in the world was whether you’d grow up together or not. “You still remembered all that?”

“Of course I did. You still in, or what?”

“I guess so…I mean, what else do I have to lose?”

The two of you fall back into your comfortable silence, and he wraps you up into his arms. 

TWO YEARS LATER

As usual, the base is busy and rather chaotic: day after day you’re busy filing reports and training. This causes you to become prone to forgetting the littler things in your life, so you assign Bob to keep track of them for you. He had the best memory of anyone you knew—that man kept mental notes of everything. 

“What do I have to do today, Floyd? Any events…”

“Uhhh…” Bob thought for a moment as you took a long drink of water. “Dinner with Phoenix. Do laundry. Don’t get yelled at by Cyclone for the 19th time (You’re only one point behind Bradshaw, he’s at 20). Grocery shopping. And most importantly…yours’ and Hangman’s birthday.”

“Oh, shit, I completely forgot,” you swore under your breath. “How could I forget…”

“You have some time, so don’t worry. Five days.”

“Only five days?” your eyes widened. “I have to run through four more simulations over the next two. I can’t plan everything in the remaining three.”

“If you pay Garcia in Doordash deliveries, he’ll help out. You know he minored in art.”

“That’s…actually not a bad idea.”

After you finish your final exercise that week, you pass out, but luckily, Hangman’s right there to catch you so you don’t get a concussion. Bless that man—he always seemed to be around wherever you went and you were very grateful for it. 

You were delirious and couldn’t walk straight, so as much as you claimed you were okay, he wouldn’t believe you. 

“I’m taking you home because you’re in no condition to be wandering around by yourself. The birthday planning can wait. You’ve tired yourself out enough as it is and you don’t want to make things worse.” So you let him help you get into his car, then drive you home and lead you inside. Then, he forced you to go upstairs to take a hot shower and relax while he cooked up dinner for you. 

Though Hangman admired your determined spirit, it scared the hell out of him because you wouldn’t know when to stop yourself. 

“I got that from you though! Who’s the one I spend the most time around?” you’d claim in response to that  argument. You weren’t wrong—it was a quality you picked up from him many years ago.

You woke up the next morning to the smell of French toast and jam, which lessens the tension in your shoulders right away. Amidst the early morning light drifting through the windows he stands out like a priceless work of art in a museum. You struggle to tear your eyes off him. 

Rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, you rested your chin on his shoulder and exhaled. “Hey.”

“Morning. You sleep okay? How’s that headache of yours?”

“I’m alright.” You closed your eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of cinnamon sugar. “This smells nice.”

If Hangman was tired, you couldn’t tell. “Woke up at 6:30 to relearn the recipe for you. It’s been a while, it took three burnt batches to get the hang of things.”

“You woke up an hour early to cook for me?” 

“Why else? Of course I did,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

You sat down at the kitchen island together and ate your breakfast in silence. Something about this moment feels more domestic than all the others you’ve shared in the past, and you can’t help but smile. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of eternity like this...

“Y/N, there’s some honey on your chin.”

You blinked, trying to find it. “Where?”

“Hold on a sec.” Hangman took his napkin and rubbed gently at the corner of your lip to wipe it off. For a brief moment, you could feel his warm breath fanning across your face. You stayed as still as possible. “There.”

If anyone looked in from the outside, it was another simple day in the life of a longtime couple. But for you and Jake, it’s always been like this. Showing up at each others’ place wasn’t unusual for either of you; if anything, it was quite normal. 

“...Thanks.”

“Yeah. You got any ideas in mind? For the big day.”

“Whatever you want is what I want.”

“Funny enough, that’s what I was about to tell you,” he replied.” 

You locked eyes with each other and laughed. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure we will.”

Less than three days until everything as you knew it would change forever...if you were being honest, you were absolutely terrified. What if he changed his mind and left you in the dust, all alone? You weren’t ready to face the cold truth. 

Hangman offered a simple celebration: food and drinks at the Hard Deck with the crew, then some karaoke if you were up for it after. He starts it off by serenading you at the bar, reaching a hand out to you as he sang your favorite Billy Joel track. You let him lead you out to the dance floor and spin you around, and he’s equal parts addicting as he is entertaining. 

Thirty candles, and you agree on blowing out fifteen each—somehow, by some miracle, you manage to do exactly that, and it’s perfect. Then Fanboy yells that he and Rooster want a rematch with you in Just Dance…so you go at it for two hours straight, until sweat is dripping down your face and your sweater grows hot. 

You’re burnt out, and he can see the look in your eyes as you step aside to let Phoenix play. “You want to head out? There’s something I want to show you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He gives Maverick a look, and the captain shoots him a subtle nod in return. He takes this as his signal to put his hand on the small of your back and lead you out the door. 

You can’t help but laugh a little as you get outside. “Is this Mav’s motorcycle?”

“No…” Hangman shifts from foot to foot, feigning cluelessness. 

“Did you steal it?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s his, isn’t it.”

“Look, he let me borrow it for the night. It’s not stealing if he says it’s okay…besides, he never noticed when I did steal from him last week—”

“What did you—do you even have a motorcycle license?”

“Got it a year ago. I thought, ‘maybe I’ll take my best girl on a ride someday, so who knows if it’ll come in handy’. So here we are now.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Alright, now come on.” He swung his leg over the side and motioned for you to sit behind him. The cushion was not in fact, cushiony, and you found yourself growing colder by the second.

The bike burst forward without warning. You let out a small yelp and immediately wrapped your arms around Hangman’s waist—which was ridiculously firm…had he been working out more lately?—as you went speeding down the road. 

“If I die, I’m gonna kill you and haunt you in your sleep,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket. “Even in death, I’ll stick to you always.”

“That sounds both morbid and weirdly romantic.”

“Shut up.”

Several minutes later you found yourselves by the cliffs, standing high over the ocean, and deja vu hits almost right away. After we go on this make up date, he had said, I’m going to find that guy who messed you up and mess him up. Then we’re going to go home, I’ll let you wear any of my sweatshirts you want, and we’ll watch true crime. One where someone like that jerk dies. Okay? Okay.

You’re miles away from Top Gun, miles away from your jet and your uniform and everything you’ve ever known, but you’ve never felt more at home than now. It’s in this moment in which you realize all you really need in the world is Jake, the sky above you, and the sea below you. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed that he’s getting fidgety. He can’t stop stuffing his hands in and out of his pockets or running them through his hair—he’s restless. The action takes you by surprise a bit. 

“Why are you all tensed up?” you questioned. “It’s just me and a nice sunset. We’ve done things like this many times.”

“But it’s not just you and a sunset,” he explained. “I’m supposed to be asking you the most important question of our lives. That’s a big deal, sweetheart.”

Your heart spluttered to a stop. “Are you…”

“Let me finish,” Jake cut in. “If you could be quiet for a few minutes…that would help. I’m nervous.”

“Jake Seresin, nervous?” you teased. “That’s a first.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Give me a break.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be nice…for now.”

“I haven’t slept at all in the past week. I went to eleven different jewelry stores around San Diego but nothing seemed to scream ‘Y/N’. So, I decided to take a trip out of state.” He cleared his throat, and reached into his jacket pocket. You saw his hand shake as he did so. “Out of the country. That mini mission I went on while you were training? I was in Canada. Victoria, to be specific. Maverick and Rooster came along to help out.”

Now in his hand was a small velvet box, and inside was the most breathtaking ring you’d ever seen. “Diamond and ruby. They don’t sell plain red strings for rings…so I had them design this. The red thread of fate…the one that brought you into my life. We were kids when we promised to spend our lives together, if circumstances permitted. And I know we might’ve been young, but I’d be lying if I said I could imagine myself with someone that wasn’t you. There was a part of me that wished you wouldn’t find anyone before this day came along. It’s you, Y/N. It always has been.

“I’m not going to get down on one knee. I’m not going to give you a long, cheesy speech about divine power and soulmates. But I’m going to tell you this: you’re my forever, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s getting cold out so I’ll cut to the chase: what I’m saying here is that I’m asking you to marry me.”

The world fell silent as you replied with a shaky nod, holding out a trembling hand as Jake slid the golden band onto your ring finger. Neither of you made a sound, and you swore you felt time stop and the ground crack wide open beneath your feet.

tags, including those who may be interested: @callsignbarb @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @dilfsandtherapy @purelyfiction @yeehawnana @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @newlibrary @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @thisismypointofview @ice-mans-world @burnedbrisket @fangirlinc @knowledgefulbutterfly @levis-butterfingers @lunamooncole @coastingline @chaoticassidy @hbstre @fantasias-creativebubble @light-the-moon @winteryoungie @aie1840 @midnightdevotion @julia-marshal @anya7802 @bittergomez @and-claudia @cosm1cfae @tallrock35 @uwiuwi @elenavampire21 @aerangi @hoedameronsworld @whotfatemywaffles @littlebadariell

[wlntrsldler]

THE PROPHECY | LUKE CASTELLAN

synopsis: series of events between zeus!reader and luke that started the prophecy. not canon-compliant; inspired by the prophecy by taylor swift.

series masterlist | previous | next

Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it's gone again.

"Do you think Thalia knew I loved her?"

There was a bite in the air, as there always was when the summer began to fade and fall began to creep up at Camp Half-Blood. It happened every year, at least for the past three years you've called Camp Half-Blood your home.

Luke sat beside you on the hard, dirt floor, looking up at the green of Thalia's pine tree. The summer campers knew of her legend, but it was the year-rounders like you and Luke who understood her sacrifice best. There was a feeling of guilt and gratitude that engulfed all of you, like the protection Thalia blanketed over the campgrounds. You were thankful that demigods had a place to feel safe, but it came at the cost of a life. Thalia should be here.

"Of course she knew," Luke replied, unconsciously yanking out the blades of grass that flourished between the cracks in the floor. "She's your sister."

"Yeah, but do you think she knew I chose to love her?" You clarified, turning your head to face him. You did this every year, you and Luke at the foot of Thalia's tree once the summer campers all left for the year. “I mean yeah, I had to love her because she’s my sister, but do you think she knows that I would’ve chosen to love her even if she wasn’t? I feel like I never told her that. We always fought.” 

Each year you studied Luke and noted the things that were different. He's older now. His arms were more defined, muscles beginning to form on his otherwise lanky frame. He'd grown taller in the last few months and his body was adjusting to his new height. The pants he wore all of last summer were discarded a few months ago. They stopped short on his ankles and Luke decided that it was time to let them go. 

Another bead was added to his necklace, three wooden beads clanking against each other, just like yours, when he moved his body too quickly. A new bracelet adorned his wrist given to him by a young girl in the Hermes cabin before she left to go back to Virginia for the year. Luke had a collection of bracelets stashed in his bedside drawer. It was a reminder of all the demigods he wanted to protect. Some became painful reminders of the ones he couldn't.

Luke pursed his lips, "Sisters fight. I don't think she took it personally."

Each year you studied Luke and treasured the things that stayed the same. He still had the same smile as he always did, bringing you back to when you and Thalia first met him all those years ago– just three kids fighting for your lives all on your own. You and Luke were the same age, him only your senior by a few weeks, but he took the protector role seriously. Luke was your safe place before Camp Half-Blood. 

His curls were the same, especially in the mornings when he first gets out of bed; all wild and unruly, just like how he is when he wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Some people say it's because he's the son of Hermes so mischief ran through his veins, but there was nothing about Luke that mirrored his father. He was too good to be like the gods.

"I just wish my last words to her weren't that," You uttered, a bitter taste in your mouth as you replayed your last conversation with Thalia. In the final stretch of your journey to Camp Half-Blood, you and Thalia got into an argument. In hindsight, it was petty, a disagreement that any older and younger sister would have, but it felt big at the moment. You didn't speak to her for two days. And then, in the blink of an eye, there was a blinding light, and suddenly, your little sister vanished.

You don't even remember what the fight was about anymore.

"You need to forgive yourself," He said, flicking away the blades of grass he had in between his fingertips, "This wasn’t on you."

He said this every year, yet it never felt rehearsed. It always felt genuine when Luke said it. You wondered if he got annoyed at how you brought this up each year, this never-ending feeling of guilt that you didn't turn around to see if Thalia was behind you, that you couldn't protect your little sister, but Luke was patient with you. If it bothered him that you thought about it often, he didn't show it.

"Sometimes it feels like it is," You whispered, watching a singular pine fall from a branch. You like to think that Thalia did these things to let you know that she's listening. "Our dad hasn't talked to me since."

Luke clenched his jaw, wiping his hand on the fabric of his cargo pants. His warm palm took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze, "You're better off."

"Maybe."

"You are," He said, clearing his throat. His chest felt heavy as he spoke. "I have to tell you something."

You turned your hand over, lacing your fingers together. Holding Luke's hand always felt right, even when you were fourteen and he had to drag you away to safety from the monsters who were out to get you; even when you were fifteen being woken up by the nightmares caused by the empty Zeus cabin, a chilling reminder that your sister was supposed to be there; even when you were sixteen and began to take on more responsibilities at camp despite your protests. "What is it, Luke?"

"I have a quest," He admitted. He'd been keeping this from you for days. He was meant to embark on this journey today, but he pleaded with his father to give him until tomorrow to begin. He knew the day the summer campers left was hard on you. 

Your stomach dropped. Luke had been waiting for a quest from his father for years. You watched him fall into a pit of despair every time a camper who'd been at camp for a shorter period of time got a quest and returned with the glory of the strongest and bravest champions. You knew Luke wanted the opportunity to prove himself to his father. This quest was it, but it didn't mean that you were enthusiastic about the idea. "When do you leave?"

"In a few hours."

"Oh."

"Are you upset?"

"No," You said, then paused. You thought about it. Luke let you think in silence, rubbing his thumb along your skin. "Yes, but I can't do anything about it. I can't stop it."

"Say the word and I will, you know that," Luke rebutted, staring at you now. "I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Luke," You sighed, "You can't deny the gods."

"For you, I'd try to." Sometimes Luke said things that worried you. You'd always been told that your allegiance should be to the gods, your parents. Sometimes you felt differently, but you never said it out loud, but Luke had no problem doing it. He made it clear that his allegiance was to the people he loved, to you. 

"You should go," You said, ignoring the shake in your voice. It was tempting to tell him to stay; Tell him to be content to live a quiet life in the safety of these grounds, to be content with the glory he received from being the head counselor of the Hermes cabin, as the best swordsman at camp. But Luke craved more to life than this, you knew that. He needed more than another notch on his belt from Capture the Flag. He deserved more. He deserved a father who cared about him. Maybe this quest is the key to giving him exactly what he needed. You couldn’t in good conscience keep him from that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." The lie burned your tongue. While some demigods returned victorious, some never returned at all. The thought of it made a chill run down your spine. It made Luke flinch.

He wrapped his arms around you. The position was awkward, but neither of you cared. When you were younger, his curls tickled the side of your cheek when you hugged him. You used to be able to look him in the eye back when you were the same height. You used to be able to memorize the features on his face; the crinkles by the side of his eyes that would appear when he'd smile, eyelashes brushing against the stray hairs of his eyebrows; full cheeks dusted with the faintest shade of pink from the beating sun or the wind chills; a crease under his lips that cast a shadow on his chin.

Now that you're older, his curls fell against your temple when he held you like this. His face was thinner, jaw more defined and cheeks hollow, like his youth was being drained from him each year. But his heart remained the same. A steady thump against your own, a beat that became synonymous with home. 

“I feel like this is a test,” He murmured, shaking as he spoke. He’ll blame it on the wind if you asked, but he knows that his words would fall flat. You always did know when things felt wrong with him. Sometimes he thought that you knew him better than he knew himself. Luke licked his lips, “Like he’s expecting me to fail and prove what he’s known all along.” 

“You always tell me that I’m more than what the gods think of me,” You said, looking up at him. Luke was staring at the sky, jaw rigid as he fought back the tears. There were only a handful of things that made Luke emotional– talking about his father was one of them. He used to cry when he talked about May, too, but now when someone asks about his mother, his tone turns robotic. He recited her fate like a broken record, waiting for the inevitable looks of pity from the onlookers. You brushed your thumb along his jaw, “Luke?” 

“Hm?” His eyes darted to yours, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he studied your features. Luke always knew you were beautiful, but sometimes when he was this close to you, it knocked the breath out of his lungs for a moment, like he couldn’t believe you were real. 

“You always tell me that I’m more than what they make me out to be,” You repeated, holding his face in the palm of your hand, “And yet you never believe it for yourself.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d called him out on his hypocrisy more times than he could count. You were right, though. He did always tell you that the opinions of the gods didn’t matter, not when they didn’t know you like he knew you, not when they were too preoccupied in their own world to realize that you were the greatest thing they created. 

“You are more than what your father thinks.” 

He wanted to believe you, he really did, but all his life he’d been told that he was destined for something great. And yet the things he’d been able to accomplish so far seem so miniscule, irrelevant, in the context of the gods. He craved more. 

When Luke was a child, May Castellan used to mumble the same phrase over and over again. He didn’t think much of it then, nothing that his mother said usually made any sense to his nine-year-old self anyway, but the more time he spent at Camp Half-Blood, the clearer her words became. Luke was destined for something, it’s in the cards, it’s in the hands of fate. This quest might be it, the first step to reaching eternal glory. 

There are times though, during moments like this, with you beside him, when he thinks that he’ll be fine not reaching eternal glory. He can live out his life happily with just this; you and him at the foot of Thalia’s tree, with you telling him he’s more than what the gods want him to be. After all, he’d give up eternal glory if it meant being with you. 

“You’re gonna be okay without me around?” He teased. For years, it had always been you and Luke. It was a type of co-dependence that made Chiron and Mr. D's eyebrows raise. They found it dangerous. You overheard them talking in the Big House about it once, how unnatural it was for two demigods to choose each other despite the dangers of it. You joked that it was a trauma bond of sorts, but you and Luke both knew that it was more than that. Neither of you said it out loud, though, both too scared to ruin whatever this was.

“No, probably not,” You confessed. Your words took him by surprise. He was expecting you to join his teasing, but he found no trace of banter in your tone. You bit your bottom lip, “But you’re gonna come back, so I’ll be okay. I need to be okay with you being gone. I can’t expect things to always stay the same.” 

Luke couldn’t help but frown at your words. He knew you were right like you always were, but he didn’t like the idea of things changing. So much in his life moved with the tides, and up until he met you, he was fine with it. But the idea of the two of you changing, the idea of one day not having this, not having you, well, Luke didn’t think he could stomach the idea. His lips hovered over the crown of your head, almost touching you but not quite, “Not us, though. It will always be us.” 

Luke didn’t know what he was destined to do, what prophecy the gods and the Fates had in store for him, but the only thing he was sure of was you. And that was never going to change if he could help it.

[pupyuj]

→ “long overdue.” || kim jiwon (liz) x reader.

— jiwon reunites with you, her old fling, at her brother’s bachelor party and with the sparks still in the air, you don’t waste any time to get familiar with her once more…

word count: 5.2k.

dynamic: dom!bottom!liz x sub!top!reader.

warnings: age gap (it's not much!), unnie kink, fwb to lovers, nipple play, oral fixation, cunnilingus, fingering, thigh riding, orgasm denial, edging.

a/n: FINALLY! a jiwon fic from moi 😭😭 this was supposed to be posted earlier on valentine's day but alas 💀 i really do wish i could've dropped something for feb 14th but back then i was bitter, lonely, sad, and angry so trying to write something cute and lovey-dovey was just not ideal LMAO but anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this fic 💚 only one more member and i will have officially written a fic for each of the ive unnies! WE CAN DO IT!! 😤✨ also i'm pretty sure i'm missing some warnings/tags but i'm too sleepy to remember them so...

jiwon doesn’t know why she agreed to chaperone her grown brother to his stupid bachelor party. as far as she knew, it was a boy thing. according to her brother, however, she was an exception and so, jiwon finds herself seated at the farthest corner of the bar in what might be the most expensive nightclub she has ever set foot in. she hasn’t even downed her first drink yet—she merely made a tiny tornado with the small umbrella while keeping an eye on her little brother and his ridiculous group of friends.

some of them were familiar to her, some weren’t. and some have repeatedly asked for her number in the past two and a half hours they’ve been in the place. it was after the eleventh time it happened that jiwon decided to go on her lonesome and sat on that one corner of the bar, silently waiting for the little party to end so she could get her nice, long and certainly well-deserved, sleep. jiwon really wished that she came up with some boring excuse to avoid this event. unfortunately, she couldn’t say no to her brother who was so kind to include her! 

perhaps he knew that jiwon needed to look at something that wasn’t the view from the big windows of that fancy condominium where she lives. on top of all that, jiwon has been working harder than usual. but that’s only because she quite literally has nothing else to do in her life. all of her friends were busy, she was busy, and it’s not like she can just hit up her coworkers for a quick drink after work when she barely knew them. in hindsight, jiwon sort of needed this!

jiwon raises her glass to her lips, but stops midway when something curious catches her attention. a girl, a bit younger than jiwon herself, confidently marches up towards her brother and does a very familiar handshake with him before hugging him tightly. jiwon watches as the girl and her brother chat a bit. they exchanged a few jokes here and there, the girl hands him a small bag (a gift to his soon-to-be wife, possibly), then her brother whispers in the girl’s ear as he exchanges glances with jiwon, and suddenly both of them were looking at her from across the nightclub.

jiwon nearly drops her glass when she sees the girl’s face clearly. it was you—(y/n) (l/n), her brother’s former roommate and best friend all throughout college! jiwon has met you before! back when her life was a goddamn mess and her entire family thought that you were her brother’s girlfriend. but then it turns out you were more like… his sister from a different family and so that was when you and jiwon started getting to know each other.

perhaps you got to know each other a bit too well… because jiwon remembers all those times when the two of you would hang out in her room for hours and f—

“jiwon-unnie!”

the blonde haired girl springs up from her seat and waved as you squeezed through multiple crowds of people until you got to her. wow, you were beautiful. taller, older, and obviously so much prettier than the last time jiwon saw you.

which was in between her le—

“i missed you so much!” you engulfed jiwon in a crushing bear-hug which she awkwardly returned. “oh wow, unnie, you’re gorgeous! blonde fits you so well.” you were saying as you pulled away, taking in all of jiwon’s features and even threading her soft hair from behind. jiwon got goosebumps under your touch—how the fuck was she supposed to act normal in this situation?

“i am so glad you’re here because as much as i love him, i’m not as much of a boys girl anymore.” you pulled jiwon back to her seat, taking the empty one right beside hers and immediately telling the bartender about your favorite drink. jiwon finds herself completely speechless. literally. you were vibrant, you were chatty, you were so charming—everything jiwon remembers that you were all those years ago.

“mmm. never gets old.” you said after taking the first sip of your drink. you then turned to jiwon who flinched upon making eye contact with you. “what have you been doing these days, unnie? i know you’re like, some kind of big deal at this rich-people company you work for but you know… what else?” you eyed jiwon up and down before smiling at her. not even the darkness and the nearly seizure-inducing lights of the nightclub could hide that familiar glint in your eyes, but jiwon chose to ignore them.

she couldn’t help but glance at how your skirt is hiked up after you’ve put one leg over the other though.

“um, i haven’t been doing much, really. just… work and making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” jiwon said, nodding her head to her brother who was pretty buzzed at this time.

you laughed, “you guys never really changed, huh? glad to see it.” you took another sip of your drink.

“only this time i’m helping him with his road to being a husband instead of a project due in thirty minutes.” jiwon shakes her head at the memory, and she likes the way it makes you smile brightly.

“right… and are you still with wonyoung-ssi?” you asked with caution. yet you stared at jiwon as you did so, making sure she sees your ulterior motive through your eyes. jiwon feels herself crumbling under the weight of your stare, as much as she tries to put up a fight of her own.

“no… no, that’s been over for a while now.” it was a good breakup. one that ended with laughter rather than tears and anger. jiwon still talks with wonyoung to this day. why, only a week ago, wonyoung had called jiwon about her brother’s wedding! she expressed her regret about not being able to attend it due to scheduling conflicts—the life of an acclaimed supermodel was busy after all!

you looked significantly happier with the news, now gulping down your drink with a smile on your face. “h-how about you? he never told me what you did after you guys graduated…” jiwon attempts to have some control of the situation—sitting up straight, staring back at you with the same intensity, and all. was she successful? no. jiwon’s blushes as you held your stare with hers, an amused smirk now on your lips before you flipped your hair over your shoulder.

shiiit, jiwon remembers how perfect your neck looks while covered with marks left by her… oh gods, what is wrong with her?!

“well, after college, i did try getting my career started… but that didn’t work out. i ended up going back to my hometown to get back in touch with my heart and all that sentimental bullshit, and it actually worked,” you giggled, your hand brushing across your hair. “i know what i want to do in my life, but for now, i’m just…” you trailed off, raising your drink as well as quirking your eyebrow. “having fun before i can’t.” now your glass is finally empty.

“that’s good. and i’m glad the two of you are still friends. i was worried you’d grow apart.” it always made jiwon smile when she came home after a rough day at her old job and seeing you and her brother in the house, chatting and fooling around as if you weren’t burdened by all your commitments and responsibilities. it had always been refreshing seeing you, and it still is.

you propped your elbow on the table and put your chin on your palm, flashing jiwon a teasing smile, “did you miss me, unnie?”

and just like that, every ounce of confidence jiwon built up evaporates into nothing. she laughs awkwardly, hiding behind her drink, “o-of course! it was weird not seeing you guys together all the time, you know!” another awkward laugh. jiwon felt ridiculous and childish.

“no, unnie,” you moved closer, putting your hand on jiwon’s arm. she turned her head to look at you again and there you were, staring at her with clouded eyes. you then leaned closer and put your other arm behind her, your lips ghosting above her ear. shitshitshit, that’s too close. “did you miss me?”

what happened moments later isn’t exactly what jiwon would say was… a mistake. hell, it was far from it.

being trapped between the door of your hotel room and yourself while getting her neck marked up and her clothes slowly stripped down is the most eventful jiwon’s night has been.

jiwon could feel her brother’s worry all the way from here… well, it’s mainly because she knew that all the buzzing that her phone was doing in her pocket was because of him mass texting her about her whereabouts. she couldn’t be bothered to text him back right now though, not when you were already trailing your hand up her thigh and sliding it underneath her skirt. this felt familiar, and it felt good. feeling you gently rub her wet cunt through her panties felt good, feeling you softly biting on her collarbone felt good, seeing those cute eyes of yours asking for permission while you tugged on her panties felt good.

how long has it been since jiwon felt this kind of rush in her life? too long, she’d say. so why not make the most out of it?

jiwon cups your cheeks and crashes her lips into yours for the first time that night. your lips tasted like blueberries (from whatever you were drinking earlier), and jiwon loved the way you kissed her rather clumsily as if you didn’t expect her to do it first. jiwon couldn’t get enough. she pushes you further inside the room, discarding you of your jacket while doing so. she sits you down on the edge of the bed before separating from your lips and suddenly walking off, leaving you confused and slightly light-headed.

turns out, jiwon only went away to turn the lampshade on, illuminating the room with a warm orange glow before going back to you. she stared you down with hooded eyes, lust replacing the kind look in her irises that you knew and loved, and then she gently grabs your jaw, tilting your head up. you squeezed your thighs together, trying to soothe that ache in your core. god, you missed her.

“make this worth it, (y/n).” jiwon says coldly. even jiwon herself was surprised at her tone, but something in her brain liked how you crumbled under her stare. compared to the timid, nervous jiwon from earlier, bossy and demanding and… kind of harsh jiwon just did something right to you.

“you’ve always been worth it.” you pulled jiwon towards you by her hips, making her sit down on your lap. you feel her brushing your hair with her fingers, allowing you to release the tension on your shoulders and just melt into her. you’ve missed her warmth, and she’s missed yours. jiwon didn’t understand why you left when you did… but that was a question you were going to answer for her later.

much, much later.

jiwon moans softly as you start kissing her neck. your hands get busy with the remaining buttons on her shirt, revealing more of her skin for you to mark up throughout the night. you’ve already left some earlier, and they were starting to show across her chest but that wasn’t enough. you slowly pull off her shirt and let it drop to the ground, then your hands travel lower on jiwon’s body, stopping at the waistband of her skirt.

you were eager to touch her—unzipping her skirt and whining to get her to stand up and let it fall at her feet before you pulled her back into you. jiwon couldn’t help but laugh while you kissed her hungrily, and then she giggled even more when you rolled around and made her lay on her back on the bed.

you pouted cutely as you observed her and her baby pink lingerie, “hmm… were you expecting to sleep with someone in that club, unnie? you looked prepared.”

jiwon thought it was the perfect time to tease such a normally confident girl like you. so she nodded with a shit-eating grin, “the lady bartender was cute actually.” she laughs when you suddenly hop off of her abdomen, choosing to sit on the side of the bed instead. you were taking off your shoes, setting them aside before starting to discard yourself of your jewelry and putting them on the bedside table. jiwon watches you intently, her desire for you only growing by the second.

“come on, get in here already.”  jiwon tugged on your sleeve, more than ready to feel your lips on her skin once again. she decided to sit up and help you with your dress though, reaching for the zipper and slowly pulling it down. she didn’t waste the opportunity to leave kisses on the back of your neck, all the way down to the middle of your back, making sure that her lipstick sticks on your skin and smiling satisfied once she sees that it did.

finally, jiwon could see all of you after all these years, and you were just as beautiful as the last time she saw you. jiwon couldn’t resist immediately grabbing your face and kissing you as you climbed into the bed—she longed to feel your skin against hers again and now that you were here, she doesn’t think she ever wants to let you go like she did back then. so, jiwon holds onto you tightly, letting you settle yourself on top of her once again while your hands impatiently explore her perfect body. your hands reach behind jiwon, unclasping her bra and throwing it aside, your hands quickly finding themselves busy fondling her soft breasts.

it was cute to see that you still adored her tits as much as you did back then. you did that thing you always did when you were intimate with jiwon, kissing all over her chest, making sure to cover every inch of skin while still massaging her tits. jiwon caresses your hair as you did your job, laughing softly in an adoring way, her smile only widening when you look up at her with your own grin.

“you’re so pretty, jiwon-unnie.” you gave the older girl one last quick kiss on the lips before leaning down and taking her nipple in your mouth. jiwon gasps at the feeling of your warm tongue slowly swirling around her nipple. it was familiar, like all of the other things you’ve done to her so far, but it also felt new at the same time. because this time, the two of you were much older, and you were doing this purely out of your true feelings for each other rather than a decision made on a whim. jiwon moans loudly when you softly and carefully bite on the hard bud, but she was quick to regain composure when she notices something quite… well, interesting.

jiwon sees how you humped the mattress slightly, trying your best to soothe that buzzing in your core on your own. jiwon decides to swiftly slide her thigh in between your legs and press it against your wet cunt, feeling all satisfied when you whine and start slowly grinding on her thigh for further stimulation. your hand that was pinching her other nipple was now gripping the sheets as you started riding jiwon’s thigh faster, whining even more as you feverishly sucked and nipped on her tit. jiwon grins, loving how she hasn’t lost her special little talent of reducing you to her obedient pet. she starts meeting your little thrusts by raising her thigh—somehow, the sight of you like this had her soaked, but you haven’t noticed at all. you were too busy trying to get yourself off!

you had to let go of jiwon’s nipple eventually, now hugging her close and whining at her chest because you were feeling so good. you’ve started shaking and your moans were shorter and higher—it only meant one thing! jiwon takes a fistful of your hair and pulls your face up to make you look at her, ignoring how you winced at the pain.

“don’t cum.” she says strictly, her grip on your hair tightening by the second the more you thrust into her thigh.

“b-but..! hnng.. i’m s-so close…! so close…” the pout, the tears, that desperate tone in your voice… jiwon almost wanted to fold, but she wasn’t in the mood for that.

“you don’t get to cum before me ever, remember? be good.”

as much as it upset you, you slowly decreased your pace until you were merely sitting on her thigh. jiwon smiles—she was happy to know that she still had some sort of hold over you. she knew she always did! why, you were always clingy towards jiwon whenever her brother invited you over, and that was even before the two of you started sleeping with each other. she always used it to her advantage, mostly in bed, of course. something else jiwon always liked: that pitiful look on your cute face when she denies you of your release. you’d always look so timid after, afraid that if you spoke incorrectly, jiwon might stop the whole thing entirely.

but jiwon was never that cruel. she’d tease you, sure, but she would always make sure to give you what you want. just as long as she gets hers first.

“look,” you watched as jiwon’s hand traveled down from her stomach to her panties. she was drenched; your fault. “do something.” she demands. shit. the dark tone in her voice and the stern look on her face was enough to get you to move lower. you pulled off jiwon’s panties, your heart beating so fast for no goddamn reason. it has been a very long time since you have seen jiwon, let alone like this. acting like this, looking at you like this. it’s got you weak.

you stared at jiwon’s pussy. soaked, tight, perfect, and most importantly, all for you.

“how cute. you’re practically drooling.” jiwon impatiently puts her hand atop your head and brings your face closer to her needy cunt. you hoisted her legs over your shoulder, then you started leaving kisses along her inner thighs—deep and sensual kisses, slow and careful right up until your lips barely ghosted above her pussy. jiwon stares at you with anticipation, you stare back at her; your eyes now dark and hungry. you keep eye contact as you licked up her cunt once, smirking while you felt jiwon’s entire body shiver at the feeling. she pushes your head a little closer, so fucking desperate that you almost wanted to be petty and tease her, but she would probably hit you for that.

and so, you give her what she wants. within seconds of your lips touching her cunt once more, you were practically making out with it. goosebumps appeared along your skin as your tongue slowly got familiar with jiwon’s taste again. it felt right, like the stars have finally realigned themselves after years of floating about the expansive universe, lost. you put your hands to use, spreading her lips apart and pleasuring her clit.

“g-good…! there… mmhn.. (y/n)-ah…!” jiwon grabs a fistful of your hair again, pushing you impossibly closer to her cunt, practically grinding it against your face. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, sucking softly and moaning at jiwon’s sheer taste. fuck, it was all too good. you use one hand to grip one of her thighs, sinking your nails down to her skin, and spreading it further so you could have room.

“fuck..! i want to cum, (y/n)… m-more, more..! please…” jiwon’s back arches right as you flick the sensitive bud. you slipped your tongue inside her cunt, making jiwon moan just a tad bit louder than the hotel room walls would recommend her to. the next rooms most likely heard that—good. everyone needs to know how amazing you make her feel. how you’re the only one who can make her feel this way. and everyone’s going to know it again; you used your free hand to rub jiwon’s clit since your tongue was too busy inside her.

normally, this would’ve made jiwon cum. but she was strong this time around. “fucking—god, (y/n)…! more.. more…” jiwon pleads while on the verge of tears. you free her thigh of your grip and hold her hand instead, at least it helped her ground herself at least. the more you used your tongue inside her, the more you felt her clench. her grip gets tighter, both on your hand and on your hair. you briefly glanced upwards and saw her closing her eyes shut—she was close. but you found yourself being torn between letting her reach her climax now, stall a bit longer, or… make her orgasm just a lot stronger.

you pulled out your tongue from her cunt. jiwon hisses and nearly hits you on the head for slowing down and going back to sucking on her clit as you previously did. she glared at you, but was immediately back to being at your mercy when you unexpectedly inserted two of your fingers inside her. god, she was still tight. you stared in awe as you fucked jiwon in an excrutiatingly slow pace, merely watching as her pussy clenches around your digits. you pushed further, now knuckle-deep inside jiwon. you could cum from the sensation of her spongy walls brushing against your fingertips alone but you had to keep her rule in mind.

“m-mouth… use your mouth, (y/n).. ah!” and happily you did! your mouth and fingers worked in unison on jiwon’s pussy—every time you pulled out, you’d suck and lick her clit, the routine now going back to you. you’re remembering all the things she liked done to her, even down to the tiniest details. like eye contact. your eyes fluttered open, peering at jiwon through your fringe. she was already staring at you, her face contorted to show much pleasure you were bringing to her. jiwon has never once tried to conceal her noises and she wasn’t going to ask you to slow down or anything either. you both needed this, and unfortunately for this entire damn hotel, they were going to know just how much.

jiwon loosens her grip on your head once she realizes just how tight she was holding it, now threading your hair and only gently nudging you closer whenever she thinks your mouth isn’t doing enough. you curled your fingers inside her, making her tense up once more and bring her to that familiar edge. “please, please, please…!” jiwon whispers desperately like a prayer with a single tear running down her cheek. you increased your pace and buried your face in her cunt, not caring about making a mess of your face. all you cared about was satisfying your jiwon-unnie, and that you were successful when you brought her to a mind-blanking orgasm with a single flick of your tongue.

a long moan escapes jiwon’s lips as you continue to eat her out through her climax. god, she was delectable. you were determined to not waste a single drop of her cum, lapping her up like a dog and once more relishing at the taste of her juices on your tongue. you pull out your fingers as well, making sure jiwon sees you sucking on it to show her just how much you enjoy how she tastes. jiwon was beyond flustered and she was feeling all sorts of things—overwhelmed, weak, and perhaps most importantly of all, so fucking desperate to make you feel just as good.

you don’t hear her at first. jiwon was speaking in a small voice since she was still weak from everything you did, but you do hear her later on. “come here, baby,” the nickname practically sends you scurrying over on top of her again. jiwon wipes your chin clean with her hand, smiling brightly at you as she pulls you in for a sweet kiss. she can taste herself on your lips and your tongue, and a part of her understands why you’re so addicted. “unnie’s turn, hm?” she whispers against your lips… but her kisses have sent your brain elsewhere, hence your surprised gasp when you felt her gently rub your clit through your panties.

“hah… you’re still super sensitive here?” jiwon asked.

“t-that’s my clit, unnie.. of course, i’m—ahh—sensitive there…” cheeky. even when you’re the one at her mercy now. you pulled your panties off, throwing over to the pile of clothes on the carpeted floor. jiwon was teasing you: tracing your lips with her fingers, barely letting her fingertips touch your entrance, and not even giving your clit the attention it needs now. you whine as you grind down on jiwon’s hand, desperate for more contact but she refuses to touch you.

“aww, what’s with that face?” jiwon coos, laughing slightly. you had a mix of desperation and irritation on your face. it was annoying how she was being annoying, especially at such a crucial time but you knew the exact thing you had to do to get her going.

“unnie. please. i need you…” you pleaded. jiwon leans back on the pillow behind her, finding it so amusing to watch you slowly lose every ounce of self-respect just so you can cum. fuck, if jiwon wanted to be cruel, she could! she could make you beg all night, see those pretty eyes of yours shine with tears as you cry… the sick part of jiwon really wanted it all to come true, but she’s missed you too much to prolong this any further. and so, she pushes your face closer to her by the back of your neck, kissing you passionately just to get you to calm down.

one word jiwon would use to describe how she felt for the events that followed? relieving.

it was relieving to feel your warmth around the three fingers she inserted in your pussy at once, to feel your tongue inside her mouth, to bleed slightly from the way you held onto her arms so tightly, and it was most relieving to hear you say her name so sweetly. you can have such a dirty mouth with so many vulgar words to say, especially from years before when you were younger, but whenever you were with jiwon, you were a different person. jiwon was one of the only people who you allowed to see you like this: soft, weak, and so endearing. it seems like you haven’t changed that aspect about you, and that fact within itself was relieving to jiwon.

“unnie…!” you buried your head on the crook of jiwon’s neck as you felt every inch of her fingers brush against all of your sweet spots. as expected, things were always different when it came to jiwon. being so vulnerable to other people terrified you to the point where it was almost impossible to let your heart open to them, but jiwon made it so simple. but now that you were right here, looking at jiwon and feeling her everywhere, maybe it wasn’t just simply her that made it possible for you to let yourself fall.

wait… fall?

yes. fall. all this time—you’ve fallen for jiwon but too many things made it complicated for you to fully embrace it. but now you are ready.

“i’m so happy, (y/n),” jiwon’s voice felt like a dream. you almost couldn’t hear her properly due to how much her fingers overwhelmed you. the older girl used her free hand to lift your chin, making you look at her, before kissing your lips—it has always been her favorite thing to do. “i’m so happy you came back to me. i don’t know how to express how much i missed you… surely not with words, not even with this…” jiwon plunges her fingers deep, shushing you while you moan loudly. god, she knew you too well. knew which spot to hit to get you to lose your mind, knew the exact words to whisper in your ear when she notices you were slipping away from reality, and knew exactly how to make your heart beat like it never has before.

jiwon pulls her index finger out, now fucking you faster than she ever has with the only fingers she has inside you. “good girl. god, baby… you’re getting me wet again.” jiwon locks one of her legs around yours, keeping you in place. her palm slams against your sensitive clit, bringing tears to your eyes even though you grinded on her hand desperately to feel it over and over again. part of the reason why jiwon always needed to be the one to be fucked first is because you get so tired after your turn that you just pass out, and you never got out of that habit it seems. jiwon sees how the light was escaping your eyes, it was only a matter of time before you were too exhausted to keep yourself awake.

“hm, we have to be careful, huh? can you handle it, love?”

you nodded frantically, afraid that she’d slow down had you answered otherwise, “y-yes..! ahh, yes, i can. i can, unnie.. i can—mmhn..! i can take it…” you started moving your hips, riding jiwon’s fingers just to get closer and closer for that climax you’ve been chasing after the entire night. jiwon was thoroughly amused at how determined you were. normally, you’d give up or tap out if you found it all too much, but jiwon knows you want to be good for her. especially after all this time.

“you’re so cute… but don’t worry, baby,” jiwon places a sweet, deep kiss on your damp forehead. “we have all the time in the world now.”

a curl of her fingers later and you were cumming on jiwon’s hand. the older girl stopped her movements, afraid of overstimulating you. she whispers sweet words into your ears as you let yourself go, at least that's what you think she’s doing. you could barely keep your eyes open, let alone hear. but despite your consciousness slowly slipping away from you, you still felt jiwon gently lay you down on the spot next to her. she holds you close enough that she is within kissing distance.

she was so perfect—how could you have left her?

“unnie…” you tucked a piece of her behind her ear. her laugh makes your ears tingle. you faintly hear her ask if you’re feeling okay, to which you nodded weakly at. you can see her lips move, she was saying a few things, but you can’t hear her over the sound of your heartbeat. you cup her cheek, lean close, and kiss her. maybe it was your favorite thing to do, just like her. and then, words that have always been expected to be unsaid leave your lips. some feelings that have been kept hidden, secrets that you were afraid of letting slip.

“i love you, jiwon-unnie.”

long overdue, sure. even jiwon felt it before you ever said it to her. but she thinks that your bashful smile, the way you shyly looked away from her, and your precious reaction to her saying it back made it all worth the wait.

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 5 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4

You were not the one to complain.

You knew the life you lived was one many dreams of having. As an American, you grew up hearing stories about the American Dream, but your dreams lay elsewhere.

The United States had beautiful places, cities, and people, but you felt your inspiration was elsewhere. So you left.

Your family wasn't happy about your plan, but if leaving was what made you happy, who were they to stop you?

For a year, you traveled around Europe, taking in the art and culture at every stop. Once you saw Monaco for the first time, you knew it would become your new home.

Moving there would cost money, and it was not in the price range of a struggling, traveling artist.

You had saved up as much money as possible, yet you still couldn't afford to buy, let alone rent an apartment.

You stayed not far outside the city-state and would often travel into Monaco when your work required it.

In doing so, you meet your saving grace and your worst nightmare: Amelia.

Amelia is your roommate. You often like to believe she is the devil reincarnated, but never voice your opinion because of what the girl's father is doing for you.

Amelia came from a prominent British family and her father, Michael, was a financial genius, making her more than well-off in life.

But the girl herself knew nothing of hard work, having had everything handed to her on a silver platter.

This caused her to become poisoned to the core in your opinion. She was a gorgeous girl, but her personality was nothing but ugly.

Many ask the young American girl, Why? Why would you live with someone you thought was terrible?

Getting a decent price rental in Monaco isn't the easiest. Most places are not affordable for a person in your income bracket, and the apartment complexes you could afford were designated for Monegasque citizens only.

And you haven't yet met the requirements to become a citizen. The young American girl met Amelia at an art show where she was being featured in Monaco.

Well, you had initially met the British girl's father, Michael, when he bought one of her pieces being displayed that night.

The two had immediately hit it off and it wasn't long until he offered you a room in his flat in Monaco.

They had developed a relationship, but not one many would expect from an older man and a younger girl.

He had seen you as a daughter and had hoped that in offering you a place to stay, your hardworking and sweet nature would rub off on his daughter.

Once you had moved in, Amelia immediately started bullying and belittling you. You couldn't figure out why you were being treated this way, but the British girl held a slight jealousy towards the younger girl.

Her father gave you a lot of attention and she knew that he wished you were his daughter rather than her.

You put up with her terrible behavior because her father was doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart.

You had tried to make herself feel better about being there for free and tried to reduce the British girl's attitude towards you by cooking and cleaning, but that made it seem like you were the older girl's maid, and so you were treated as such.

Max had arrived home in the early hours of Monday morning. Usually, he would have gone out and celebrated his win with his team, but not this time.

Getting back to you, which was stuck in his mind, has become the most important thing to him.

Those around him didn't think twice about Dutchman, not attending the after-party, knowing, that even though he won, he always thought he could do better. This is mainly just due to his father. 

Jos Verstappen wasn't a good man and everyone knew that. He was an even worse father.

At a young age, he had drilled the idea into his son's head that there would always be someone better. 

"You will never be good enough," were the words that echoed through Max's head. 

He'd never been praised by his father, even after he won his first world championship. There was never a good job out of his father's mouth.

Because of this, the young driver had pushed himself. Not take a break, rarely celebrated, and devoted all of his attention to racing. Until now at least. 

Christian Horner knew the Dutchman better than most. He knew Max's parents and knew that the lack of childhood the boy had, had affected him greatly.

Don't get it twisted, most F1 drivers never had a normal childhood like everyone else, but Max's was much more extreme.

While the younger driver's father was present in his life, he still lacked the paternal figure he needed, and Christian filled that void. 

While it wasn't obvious to anyone else, the Redbull principal knew there was a certain pep in the driver's step after the race.

Usually after a race, Max is often seen with his head, buried in screens, analyzing every turn, every overtake, just trying to see what he needed to do to improve.

This time, that wasn't the case. Instead of immediately analyzing his race, he instead called someone.

No one had ever been able to take the driver's attention away from his job.

This immediately caught the attention of the British man.

He had seen the slight smile and the way his eyes lit up when speaking on the phone from across the paddock. He figured this wasn't just anyone Max was talking to, he knew this person had to be special.

The team principal knew how much stress his driver had been under recently, so to see him smile, even just a small one, made him extremely happy.

With how quickly the driver took off after their meetings, Christian knew there was a special someone in the young man's life.

The only hope was that this unknown girl brought the Dutch driver, the happiness he truly deserved. 

Early Monday afternoon, you received a text from your blue-eyed man.

7 PM dinner. I'll pick you up.

The text itself was straightforward and assertive, causing you to bite your lip and nervousness and excitement.

You were happy, though that he was true to his word about seeing you again. You just didn't expect it to be the day he came back home from a work trip.

You quickly responded with your address. You weren't the type to send your address to someone you had just met, especially someone she didn't know well, but this was different. Max was different

6:45 PM, and the knockhead resonated throughout the large apartment.

You quickly raced over to the front door, not only to keep your roommate away from the man who had caused your heart to skip a beat but also because you had missed him and couldn't wait to see him.

It was a strange feeling for you to miss someone, you barely knew, but you couldn't help it.

You knew he had been waiting on the other side of the door and you needed a moment to completely gather yourself. Your heart was racing as you wiped your clammy palms on the side of your dress.

You threw open your front door without a second thought, afraid that if you stood there any longer without opening the door, he would leave.

There he stood, on the other side of the door the most beautiful man, in your opinion, you have ever seen. He was wearing a white button-up, a simple blue blazer, and black slacks.

He emanated old money, and it wasn't a bad look on him at all. In his hands though, was a bouquet for the beautiful pink tulips.

You couldn't believe this man wanted to go out on a date with you.

"Hi," Max breathed out, holding out the flowers towards the girl in front of him, "these are for you."

In the blink of an eye, you had thrown yourself into the Dutchman's arms. He was surprised at this but responded to the hug almost instantly. Burring his face in your neck, feeling like, for the first time, he had finally found a home in your arms.

"I've missed you," the muffled voice said as your face was still buried in the driver's chest.

Chuckling, he pulled away regretfully and grabbed your chin tilted up towards him, "I've missed you, too, a little lamb."

Grinning, you looked down at the flowers in Max's hand before taking them, "these are beautiful."

A smile was plastered on your face as you walked inside to put the flowers in the vase. Max, followed after you but continued to linger in the entranceway, not wanting to intrude.

He watched as you continued to rummage through every single cabinet, trying to find a vase, or anything similar, so you could display the beautiful flowers.

You had been through all the cabinets before you finally sighed, realizing you'd have to go ask Amelia where they were. 

"Sorry," You had told the man in your doorway with an apologetic smile, "I have to ask my roommate where we keep the vases". 

Max had smiled back at you, reassuringly, not minding all as you walked down the visible hall before turning to face a closed door. Curiosity filled the man's mind as he watched his little lamb's entire body change.

Your shoulders had dropped, your steps had slowed, and the excitement you had held in your body just moments ago had completely evaporated.

He had found the answers he needed when he had overheard the conversation between you and your roommate. 

"Amelia," You said softly while knocking on the older girl's door.

"What!" the older girl responded with such harshness, that you were questioning how badly you needed the vase. 

"Do you know where the vases are?"

"God," the girl said exasperated and her words dripping with disgust, "How a

re you so fucking stupid that you can't find a simple thing like a vase?!"

"Sorry," you said meekly and started to turn away before you heard a voice that stopped you. 

"They're on top shelf in the cabinet above the fridge," Amelia stated. 

With a quick thanks, you quickly walked back to the kitchen, found the vase, and displayed the flowers, before telling Max you were ready to go. They left quickly after that. 

The ride to their date location was quiet. Usually, there was never any awkward tension between the two, but now, the car was filled with it.

You couldn't stop your hands from fidgeting, especially after noticing Max's hands white-knuckling the steering wheel as he drove. 

"We don't have to go on this date if you don't want to," You had finally broken the silence, not being able to sit there anymore, "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore, you can just drop me back off if you'd like."

Before you could get another word out, Max quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road.

You thought that he didn't want to see you anymore, and he had pulled the car over as an indication that you should get out. Your eyes had started to water and your heart started to break. 

The Dutchman's head had whipped around to look at you so quickly, you were surprised he didn't get whiplash, "What are you talking about? Why would I want to drop you back off?"

"Well," You had started to play with your hands again, " you seem mad at me for some reason."

"Why would I ever be mad at you?" Max questioned with a soft voice. 

"Because I made you wait while I found a vase."

"Little Lamb," he had taken your hand in his, causing you to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes he adored, "I could never be mad at you."

"You're not mad?" You asked.

"I am mad, but not at you. Your roommate. The way she spoke to you had pissed me off. You never should be spoken to that way, no matter what."

Max had reached his hand up to caress your cheek softly. He wanted to make sure you knew that his anger wasn't directed at you.

He had been so upset with the way your roommate spoke to you, that he chose to keep his anger to himself instead of lashing out at you and possibly scaring his little lamb. In doing so, he hadn't realized that his sweet girl thought he had been upset with you.  

"You're beautiful, my little lamb," Max says, "Both inside and out. Please don't ever doubt yourself or my feelings towards you. 

A blush had erupted across your face, along with a shy smile. His words were nothing but sincere and you knew that. He quickly pulled you closer and left a quick kiss on your forehead, before turning back to the front of the car and continuing on their way. 

Max made sure to hold your hand the rest of the way. 

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access, @genevieve-blr

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Fifteen

This one took so long, and I blame school and writer's block, but there is much angst and fluff in this chapter!

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: What happens after everyone fell asleep, with a couple of cute moments wc: 1.5k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: mxm, reader needing a moment to process, panicking, kinda panic attacks, crying, yelling, sadness, falling onto the floor, I think that's it? masterlist

Yunho and Mingi were the first two awake and as such, found the rest of the group in their piles in the living room. At the sound of their footsteps, Jongho’s eyes slowly opened, widening further at the sight of the tall duo not far from him.

“Hi hyungs,” he whispered, trying not to wake any of the others, though it was enough noise to cause Hongjoong to move around in his lap, though he didn’t wake up.

“Hi Jongho-yah. You convinced hyung to sleep?” Yunho asked the younger man, getting a nod in response.

“I said I’d keep watch over everyone,” Jongho replied, as their pack alpha shifted once again, moving to sit sideways in the youngest’s lap, his head now resting on Jongho’s chest, over his heart.

The alphas moved closer to their youngest mate, smiling down at him, while Yunho reached out to run his fingers through the beta’s hair. This sensation made Jongho purr lightly, tilting his head back.

“Our cute baby beta,” Mingi whispered, smiling.

“Not cute,” Jongho retorted.

“D’finitely cute,” Hongjoong mumbled, waking up.

“Hyung,” The trio said in unison, surprised to see their captain awake.

Without saying anything in response, Hongjoong leaned up, pressing a kiss to Jongho’s lips and smiling as their lips connected. Jongho was surprised for a moment, but quickly melted into the kiss with his alpha, he had missed moments like this in the chaos that had been the last few days.

Mingi and Yunho watched the two kiss, soft smiles on their faces as they watched the soft intimacy between the youngest and oldest of their group. They loved seeing their packmates like this, it always made them smile, even after long and exhausting days, they’d always find ways to be close.

Y/n slowly woke up, hearing noise around her. Her eyes fluttered open, trying to overcome the pull of sleep wanting to drag her back down. She heard noises next to her, turning her head to find that Hongjoong and Jongho were kissing. Her sleep-addled mind didn’t process it at first, just thinking how cute they were. Until she slammed the breaks on her thoughts as she finally processed that the two were kissing.

Like sure, everyone who knew Ateez knew that they were a pack, that was common knowledge, but despite people’s theories, it was definitely not known that they kissed each other. She laid there looking at them, and the longer she sat there, the more she felt as if she was intruding on something she shouldn’t be. This was just for pack, which she was very much not. 

No matter how much she wished she one day might be, her brain whispered, only for her to push those thoughts away, knowing better than to dwell on them. Those thoughts have never done her any good.

Y/n sits up and moves to get off of the couch, forgetting that Yeosang was sitting in between her legs. Her actions wake the alpha sitting on the floor in front of her, as he looks up at her and the others groggily. In her rush to get up, she simply ignores everyone around her despite the shock showing on their faces, and rushes past the other three, leaving the living room in search of her own room, leaving the scent of a distressed and upset omega behind.

“What did you guys do?” Yeosang mumbled, becoming more awake by the second.

“I don’t think we did anything?” Yunho says, his voice raising in confusion, looking at where y/n disappeared further into the apartment.

“Something must’ve happened,” Yeosang responded.

Tuning out the two talking, Hongjoong, like Yunho, stared at the place where the omega had disappeared from view. His brain was working overtime to figure out exactly what happened, as he vaguely noted Yeosang going after y/n. Everything comes to a halt the moment he smelt the distressed scent in the air, his alpha taking over as the captain tried to remove himself from Jongho’s lap. He was partially successful, though instead of getting up, he only managed to fall down onto the floor instead, smacking his hands on the floor.

“Huh?! What’s goin’ on?” San said, startled awake by the noise.

“Hyung!” Yunho and Mingi exclaimed, dropping down onto the floor next to their alpha as the older male scrambled, trying to get off the floor.

“Hongjoong-hyung, what’s going on?” Jongho asked as he moved down onto the floor.

“‘Mega is in distress! Have to get to them!” Hongjoong half-shouted at them.

“Which omega? Neither Wooyoung or Seonghwa-hyung are in distress?” Mingi asked the alpha.

“Baby omega!” Hongjoong shouted, loud enough to wake both of the still sleeping omegas.

“Hmm? What’s going on?” Wooyoung mumbled, “What happened to baby omega?!” He half screeched, realizing what Hongjoong had said.

Hongjoong turned to look at the dark-haired man, crying out, “Baby omega is still sad, alpha made her sad,” he said, taking the blame for her state.

Yunho pulled the pack alpha into a hug, his hold on his hyung tighter than it normally would be.

“You’re not at fault here, we don’t know why y/n is upset,” He told the older alpha.

“But alpha didn’t help omega the first time!” Hongjoong protested, tears starting to trail down his cheeks as he became more distressed himself.

“Alpha,” Seonghwa said, appearing behind Yunho and reaching out to run his hand through Hongjoong’s hair, “Why do you think you didn’t help baby omega the first time?”

“Baby omega wouldn’t say anything to alpha, wouldn’t explain why she was sad,” Hongjoong said, looking up at Seonghwa with wide, tear-filled eyes, “and now something happened that made her sad again.”

“Oh darling,” Seonghwa said softly, moving around Yunho and crouching down to be level with Hongjoong, “Maybe she just wasn’t ready to say anything, hmm? It’s not your fault, and we’ll figure out why she’s sad and distressed and do our best to fix it. Now, won’t you let your omega comfort you?” He said, his arms reaching out to pick up the pack alpha, pushing out his calming scent to try and calm down his mate.

Hongjoong didn’t have the energy to protest, allowing himself to be picked up, and almost immediately hiding his face in Seonghwa’s neck. Seonghwa sighed, before looking at the others.

“I’m going to take him into our room, clearly there’s some things he and I need to talk about. Jongho and San, would you two go and check on wherever y/n and Yeosang are? I want to make sure they’re okay,” he asked the two betas, who nodded, shaking off their feelings about what just happened, and heading out to find the missing two members.

Seonghwa nodded at the two who remained, before carrying their leader off to one of their rooms, or even the nesting room.

Yunho and Mingi were left with Wooyoung, who whined to get their attention. The two alphas moved to sit next to their omega, sandwiching him in between them.

“It’ll be okay, Wooyoungie,” Yunho comforted him.

“You know the others will figure out what’s going on, and will make it better, and then we can all gather in the nest and spend time as a pack.” Mingi said, trying to reassure the omega that it would be okay.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Seonghwa softly placed Hongjoong down on the omega’s bed, the alpha gripping onto his shirt, trying to keep him close.

“Hold on darling, I just need to change really quick, okay? I’ll be right across the room, and once I’m finished, I’ll be back in your arms,” Seonghwa tried to comfort Hongjoong, who reluctantly let go of his shirt.

This allowed Seonghwa to move to his closet, quickly changing into his silk pajamas. He gracefully walked back over to his bed, where his shirt was grabbed and he was pulled into bed by Hongjoong. He was then checked over for any injuries or even a slightly off smell. Seonghwa allowed it, knowing it would help the alpha calm himself down, and it did for the most part, since he hasn’t gotten to comfort or talk to y/n yet.

“I wanna see y/n,” Hongjoong demanded.

Seonghwa sighed before replying, “You can see her later, Joong. She needs her space first.”

“But she’s sad,” the alpha protested.

“Yeosang, Jongho and San have gone to talk to her, it’ll be okay,” Seonghwa tried to comfort his mate.

“But I want to see her!” Hongjoong whined, making his mate chuckle.

Instead of speaking, Seonghwa just pulled the alpha’s head into his neck, right into his scent gland. He immediately felt the other man’s body relax, smiling as Hongjoong buried his face further into his neck.

“Relax for me dear. Let our mates take care of y/n for us, while I take care of you,” Seonghwa whispered.

There was a slight whine from the alpha in protest, though he simultaneously relaxed in Seonghwa’s hold. The omega’s hands came to wrap around Hongjoong, a hand slowly rubbing his back as the alpha slowly succumbed to sleep. 

Once Seonghwa was sure Hongjoong had fallen asleep, he kissed the top of the pack alpha’s head, whispering, “Sleep well my love, you deserve some rest after taking such good care of us and y/n recently.”

Prev | Next

Taglist: @bethelighthalazia @scarfac3 @smally97 @potatomountain @iyeeeverydee 

@lxsunshine @ismelllikechlorine247 @fr34k4c1dr41n @ateez-atiny380 @sapphirewaves

@davinashifts333 @cookiesandcreammy @not-straight-kait @hoeforalbedo @calisnewworld

@smilefordongil @fantasy2wonderland @forever-atiny @khjcoo 

@hhoneylix @ayoo-bangtan @11glitch11 @lynnsqueendom @fireseo 

@cara-rey @therealcuppicake @lyracarvahall @anxiousskylar @dinossaurz 

@madilinetheb3st @h3arteyes4mingi @sweetmoonlight9 @strayteezsimp @yukichan67 

@insanityxofxfanfiction @genderfluidthatwannabealone @mallielovssyou @queen-thiccness @xiosmemoryoflife 

@silverstarburst @dimeb29 @quailbagutte @londonbridges01 @ravensfeatheruniverse 

@haven-cove @seventeenthingsblr @vic0921 @bakedpotatoman @peachyy-jooniee 

@uhhheather @yoonjikim @vampiregirl215 @kawaiikels @lovelyglares

@kaleigh-2002 @arabelleum @kibs-and-bits @0325tiny @miracle-sol 

@discombobulatedrat @witchbxtch0701 @bee-the-loser @hwallazia @dawn-iscozy 

@ldysmfrst @ahhhhhhhhhghh @neivivenaj @comicnerd557 @binniesbabe

@freeandrealme @princelingperfect @sofkloster @lilaclichh @highkeyinlovewithhanjisung

Taglist is: open!

if your name is in pink, I can't tag you!

[ghostbsuter]

Damian was 10 when he was shipped off to his father.

He was 10 when he finally decided enough was enough, packed his stuff, called Mara, and the ball went rolling.

The moment Talia left the mansion, the DNA test confirmed, and Bruce emotionally compromised, did he finally move.

He'd stared his father down, felt nothing when he stood up and mild annoyance bloomed when his father asked– demanded– where he was going.

"You're a fool if you believe I will stay here." He spat, eyening the man in disdain.

It became very apparent that Damian wasn't what Bruce thought he'd be, what Talia thought he was.

"Your mother entrusted me with your safety–"

"I don't need protection. Mother wouldn't care if I stayed or not." He blinks. "Where is the cave? I wish to use the computer, I have people to contact."

Reluctantly, Bruce shows him the way, questions of who and why, and the plans he apparently had were asked.

Damian answers with vague wordings and enough open spaces for interpretation. Words greatest detective, he can figure it out himself without damian spelling it out for him.

When they do arrive in the batcave, Tim Drake— Robin— was sitting at the computer.

Huffing, Damian shoved the entire chair away from the table, taking its place and started typing.

"W— hey! What—? Who?" Tim looked between Bruce and Damian, despite being sleep deprived his eyes caught on the similarities, mouth dry and mind calculating.

"Does Dick know?" Is all he asks, leaning back and watching the younger boy work.

"Not yet."

A heavy sigh.

"Silence," the boy huffs, annoyed. "I'll have to make a call."

Glaring daggers, he pulls out a old burner phone, pressing the single number saved inside and waits.

"Damian."

"Hello, brother."

('Oh. Did he have another?' Tim wonders, watching Batman's face, blank like a paper sheet. Nothing. It feels like all his efforts of bringing the man back were just flushed.)

—

Or in simpler words:

Danyal al Ghul, the first successor of the demons head, born with his twin Athanasia al Ghul, to be the future of the league.

They were reborn with their former memories, stuck in place, constantly watched and trained. Manipulated. Weaponized.

All for a man playing immortal.

They'd only started planning when two more children came into the picture, Damian and Mara Al Ghul.

Danyal now Daniel "Danny" and Athanasia now Eleanor "Ellie" Nightingale took matters into their own hands and separated to take the kids in and end this.

End the league. End the cycle of whatever this, this cult is, and take over.

In many universes, Ra's al Ghul does not die, always returns, wielding his people like mere weapons.

In this universe, Danyal al Ghul is acknowledged as a traitor, killer of the Demons head and Older Brother, borderline father even, to his tiny brother Damian al Ghul.

In this universe, he raises Damian instead of Talia, shows him the cracks of this careful manipulated picture and listens when Ellie tells of her travels to this tiny child with a sad sad fate.

In this universe, Ellie takes in their tiny cousin, shielding her from the cruel eyes of a man not worthy. She trains her, shows her the ropes and takes her along when she leaves.

In this universe, Damian al Ghul and Mara al Ghul live a good live, protected by the twins of old souls and have a somewhat normal if not very complicated childhood.

[ddejavvu]

please send me requests for the outsiders!

pairing: the outsiders x fem!reader, darrel curtis x fem!reader (ambiguous), sodapop curtis x fem!reader (ambiguous)

summary: you offer darry some help around the house

a/n: i just want to help him, those bum ass boys never did shit around the house i KNOW IT. i'll help you with dusting darry baby </333

You're trying to tamp down the silly pride in your chest that you've been invited to one of Sodapop's 'Bum Around at Home' days. You're casual friends with a few of the guys from their circle of friends, but Sodapop was one you hadn't thought you were too close with; not until he'd offered to bring you along to hang out at his house with the group. Plenty of his and Steve's stories have started out with, 'while we were bummin' 'round the house' and now you're eager to be included in the larger group dynamic.

You know the outside of the house from the times you'd walked Ponyboy home from school, a few years older than him but still friendly through outside studies. You'd also stopped by once to drop something off for Johnny, but that's only because his own house was not a fit place for guests. You've never actually been inside until now, and the soft, warm lighting makes up for what Sodapop had affectionately referred to as their 'lack of housekeeping'. He's not wrong, there's chores undone, dishes in the sink and laundry draped over the table, but it's homey, somewhere you can tell people live in. It's nice.

"Take a seat on the couch there," Soda gestures to it when he opens the door, "Two-Bit, move your ass, Y/N needs to sit."

"Woah, a lady guest today. Should've worn my fancy sneakers, "Two-Bit snickers, "Only got three holes in 'em instead of four. How's it goin', Y/N?"

You know Keith from school, he'd spent an equal amount of time doing his classwork as he did tugging on your hair from where it drapes over the back of your seat. But still you remember laughing with him at his immature humor, and you settle down beside him with a smile.

"Not bad. Are those all yours?"

An impressive smattering of empty beer bottles sits beside the couch by Two-Bit's feet, and he kicks one over with a shoe that does, in fact, have four holes in it.

"Some are from last night."

"He's been here for two days," Soda scoffs, taking the seat on your other side, "Surprised he hasn't started collecting dust yet."

"Hey, I move!" Two-Bit insists, "Gotta take a piss after all the beers I've been drinking."

Ponyboy looks displeased that he'd chosen that moment to walk out of the kitchen, a glass of water in hand. His nose wrinkles and you can't help but laugh, waving politely at him where he stands in the doorway.

"Hey Pony," You call, "How's school?"

"It's alright." The younger boy shrugs, settling tentatively across from the couch, leaning against the side of the television, "Walking home isn't as much fun without you, though."

You smile fondly at the kid, glad that you no longer had to deal with the perils of high school but missing his company all the same.

"I'm sure you get along okay with Johnny. Where is he, by the way? 'Thought you said everyone'd be here."

"He and Dallas went to get more cigarettes, I think." Pony hums, leaning his head against the TV, "Only one missing is Steve. I don't know where he is."

"He's working today." Soda sighs longingly, "Wish he'd gotten off, but there ain't enough of us to cover. We're almost the only employees."

"And your other brother," You hum softly, "Uh- Darrel?"

"He's heading to work soon." Soda props a leg up on the sofa, shoe still on and surely dirtying the fabric, "He works every day. He's just getting ready now, you can say hi before he leaves if you want."

You hum noncommittally, turning your attention to the grainy cartoon Two-Bit is enraptured in. It's white noise, but you itch to do something- perhaps you're not made for bumming around.

The screen door rattles with the entrance of Johnny and Dallas, and you share a less-familiar nod and smile with the latter than you do with Johnny. He's never bothered you- never crossed your path, really, but you've heard rumors and you're not keen to be messed with now. It seems your plan works: He stays a respectable distance from you, equally uncaring.

"Didn't know you were comin'." Johnny smiles, settling at your feet with his back to the couch, "Would've offered to grab you something from the store if we knew."

"I'm okay for now." You assure him, nudging his side with your calf where he sits beside your legs, "Thanks, Johnny. You doing okay?"

"Not bad." He shrugs, "Not worse than usual."

You nod, silent and understanding.

"Alright boys," Darrel makes his appearance from one of the back rooms, but when his eyes catch yours, he starts slightly, "Oh- uh. Sorry. Don't think we've met."

"I'm Y/N," You supply, reaching for the hand that he extends to shake, "I went to school with everyone for a bit, but I graduated last year."

Darry nods but Soda cuts in, "Yeah, and her car's a hunk of junk. She's been into the DX for repairs so much lately I know her serial number by heart."

"Hey! It's not junk," You elbow him, but a good-natured smile spreads over your face despite your offense; he's right - "It's got personality."

"The kind'a personality that won't let you brake while the windows are down."

You take the resulting unanimous snort from the men around you with grace, because admittedly, your car is ridiculous. But it's all you can afford, so you'll take their teasing in stride.

"Well it's nice to meet you." Darry sends you a smile, but it fades quicker than you'd have liked, "Maybe you can make sure none of these knuckleheads smoke more than a pack today. And maybe wash the dishes for once." Darry swats Ponyboy on the back of the head, and the boy's face twists into a scowl.

"We'll take care of it, Darry." Soda assures him, but stays firmly seated on the couch, and Darrel seems to know that it's a white lie by the way his face hardens again, exhaustion creased into his far-too-young face.

"Right. Well I'll be back after dark. And I'll take care of the laundry. And the vacuuming, just please- please, do the dishes, boys. That's all I ask."

Even Two-Bit hums noncommittally at the order, and you marvel at how Darry has 3 extra people in the house and somehow no hands for chores.

"I'll wrangle them," You tease, even if you don't plan on barking orders at anyone, if only to see Darry's brow smooth for just a second.

He chuckles at your tough persona, fitting a blue button-up over his white undershirt, "I appreciate it. Aside from the dishes all I want is for y'all not to burn the house down."

"No guarantees." Dallas sneers, a cigarette fittingly in his hand, "Pony smokes like a fuckin' factory. You'll be lucky if one'a his doesn't go up in flames."

You're sure if Darrel could get away with smacking Dallas upside the head, too, he would.

"Be careful." Darry warns, and you watch as he grabs a wallet off of the table, tucking it into his pocket, "I'll be back late. Don't wait up. Do the dishes."

"Bye, Dar." Soda calls, leaning his head sideways onto your shoulder as he props his feet up on the edge of the coffee table, "Don't pull a muscle."

Darry's only answer is the slamming of the door, and no one gets up to do the dishes.

You glance at the clock and see that Darry won't be home for several hours- probably more than ten. That's ample time, sure, but your hands itch to scrub food stains from the way Darry had emphasized the necessity of the chore. You know about the Curtis' situation; Darry had to take on the mangled role of brother and father, but you're realizing now that you hadn't understood how much of a workload he'd taken on.

You settle into your spot on the couch, fiddling with the loose strings on your jeans, trying to assure yourself that the dishes will be done.

--

"Turn it up, Two, if you're gonna talk through the whole damn thing," Steve chucks a bottle cap at Two-Bit where he's snickering in Johnny's ear. Steve had turned up not even an hour ago, and he's already spread out over the armchair in the corner, straight off of a shift at work so slow that he'd been sent home early. He'd shoved the clean laundry off of the chair to sit down, and it had only made it into a basket because the basket was sitting beside the chair.

No one has done the dishes.

Your legs are beginning to ache from not moving and in a sudden fit of energy you nudge Soda's arm away from where he'd been resting it comfortably against your thigh, chaste but comfortable. He's touchy, and it's typically nice, but you feel itchy sitting in someone else's home and not helping out with things that clearly need to be helped with.

"I'm gonna go wash those dishes." You announce, and Two-Bit snickers at your statement.

"Don't worry about that, Y/N."

"Yeah, sit down. I'll do 'em later." Soda waves a nonchalant hand towards the kitchen, "Darry don't get home until way after midnight, we have time."

"They don't have to sit there, though. I could just do them now." You bargain, "And then no one has to worry about them."

"You're a guest! Just sit and watch TV," Soda insists, "Really, Darry just loves talkin' about chores. It'll get done, don't sweat it."

You're sweating it.

You trust that Soda will do them, you know he doesn't mean to inconvenience his brother, you just wish they'd put 'bumming around' after helping out.

"Fine. But I'm tired of sitting. I'm gonna take a walk."

"Careful. Stay in the neighborhood, and if you see a car that's too nice to be one of us, beeline back for the house." Steve narrows his eyes at you, "Want someone to walk with you?"

"I'm fine." You insist, "I'll be careful. I'll be back soon."

No one notices when you snag the laundry basket from beside the chair; they're all too busy watching TV.

There's a worn-out picnic table in the tiny backyard that the Curtis' house offers, and it's the perfect place to set the basket. There's a decent amount of laundry inside- which you're sure Darry washed himself, and you mull over the constant tiredness in his eyes while you smooth and fold their laundry.

You can't imagine what he's going through- you can't imagine what any of them are going through. You're sure everyone is struggling in their own ways, but you wonder if the boys help him more than they've let on so far. You can't assume anything- you've only spent a few hours in their house, but Darry seems to be desperate for extra help. And you can't imagine working an entire day away only to return to a house full of undone laundry, so your fingers carefully tuck each undershirt into a neat square, and you brush away lint from the blue jeans that fill the basket.

It's a nice day outside, a little breezy, which makes it easy to get through the basket of laundry. You replace it with a freshly folded stack, and you're glad for the back entrance to the Curtis' house that lets you pass two bedrooms, one of which is clearly Sodapop's and Ponyboy's from the posters on the wall.

You duck into the other one and it seems about right for Darrel. It's sparse on decor, but it's got a secondary pair of work boots by the closet and it's the neatest of the bedrooms. The bed is made and you set the laundry basket on the comforter, venturing into Soda and Pony's room only to grab a pen and paper.

No one thinks anything of it when you slip back into the house, retaking your seat on the couch that, miraculously, no one has lounged into yet.

"Short walk." Dallas notes, scrutinizing you from his spot in the corner.

You shrug, "It was hot outside. Just needed to stretch my legs."

You slip back into the mind-numbing routine of watching cartoons and snacking on whatever someone offers you, and you let yourself enjoy hours slipping away like minutes as you finally relax.

Sodapop does do the dishes, far too late for your liking but still respectably before his brother returns. Darry is grateful for the empty sink when he gets home to the quiet house, and he beelines for his bedroom to shuck his work shirt before starting on the laundry he's sure got shoved unceremoniously somewhere.

It's late, and his tired muscles ache for respite especially considering he has to do it all over again tomorrow. But these things must be done, and he steels himself against the mundane chores he has to do to keep the house running. Somehow, keeping up the house is harder than his blue collar labor.

He's impressed that the laundry basket made it carefully onto his bed, but he's even more surprised when he peers inside and finds it full of folded clothes. There's a note on the top, and Darry squints in the low light of his bedroom at the unfamiliar handwriting.

Darry,

I hope you don't feel like I've invaded your privacy. That's the last thing I want. I just thought that you seemed a little overwhelmed this morning, and I'd hate for you to have to deal with something silly like laundry after a long day at work. If I've crossed a line, let me know and it won't happen again. I just hope I could help out a little. Anytime you need an extra hand, I can pitch in.

P.S - I made Soda do the dishes.

Y/N

Darry realizes he's been chewing on his tongue only after he's finished reading your name off of the page, and he lets up where his incisors had been gnawing into muscle.

It's- heartfelt. Casually so, but it's still hit the mark. 'Overwhelmed' doesn't begin to cover the way he feels, and even if his brothers do notice it, they've never outright said it. He glances down once more at the impeccably folded laundry and feels something in his chest simultaneously loosen and tighten, something relaxed and something tensed.

Setting the laundry basket aside reveals his bed, inviting after a long day of back-breaking labor. He mindlessly makes it all the way into bed- still in his day clothes, too tired to change, before he realizes he's still clutching the note you'd left him, and he lays it carefully on his nightstand. His exhausted body melts into the mattress as he settles, and he turns on his side to face the window instead of his typical stance towards the wall.

He drifts to sleep staring at the phrase 'Anytime you need an extra hand', taking solace in the fact that someone's finally brushing the fingertips of the hand he'd been extending, begging for help as his head sinks below water. He feels a lot like he's drowning, but tonight he can breathe.

[bts-trans]

📅 240615 Weverse Translations

RM's Post ❇️

오랜만입니다. 얼마 전 11주년이었는데 정신없다는 핑계로 짧은 글 하나도 못 남겼네요. 허허허 한 달 전에 컴백투미, 3주 전에 RPWP가 나왔죠. 작년 4월에 호석이와 함께 입대하려던 계획을 미루고 미루다 동생들과 손잡고 나란히 들어가게 되었죠. 23년은 그렇게 술과 작업으로만 보냈던 것 같아요. 친구의 병장 약장이 부럽지만.. 그래도 후회는 없답니다. (ㅎㅎ;) 제가 이런저런 소회를 직접 들려드리지 못한 첫 작업물이네요. 하고싶은 말들이 많지만 앨범에 모두 적혀있으므로.. 그저 오롯이 저 스스로 솔직하고자 발버둥친 앨범입니다. 오래오래 두고두고 읽어주시면 좋겠어요. 부디 3일 전에 진 형이 드디어 전역을 했죠. 저 재밌자고 색소폰도 가져와서 불었지만 실은 만감이 교차했습니다. 먼저 가서 많이 외롭고 힘들지 않았을까.. 어땠을까. 1년 6개월은 여기 누구에게나 공평하니까요. 저희는 지금 형의 과거를 살고 있는 중이겠지요. 오랜만에 나와보니 역시 바깥의 시간은 다르게 흐르는군요. 중력도 다르게 느껴지고.. 다들 내 부재와는 상관없이 잘 살아가고 있구나. 잘 흘러가고 있구나. 다소 헛헛한 기분도 들지만, 무엇보다 정말 오랜만에 멤버들이 모두 모여 한 잔 하며 허심탄회한 얘기들을 나눌 수 있어 좋았답니다(군대 얘기가 절반 이상이었지만..ㅋㅋ). 무려 근 열 달 만인 것 같아요. 왜이리 이 사람들이 보고싶었는지.. 저도 종종 전화해서 다짜고짜 안부나 묻곤 했었어요. 진 형이 늘 얘기하곤 했었어요. 멤버들 엄청 보고싶다고. 너희도 그럴 거라고. 뿔뿔이 흩어져 강원도 어딘가에 살아보니 사무치게 이해가 돼버려요. 막상 얼굴 보고 얘기하니 그래도 변하지 않는 것들, 내가 돌아와야 할 곳, 내가 어떤 사람이었는지도 다시 깨닫게 되고.. 우리 모두에게 의미있는 소중한 시간이었어요. 또 어디쯤 헤매고 있을까요? 내년 12주년에는 다들 어떤 얼굴을 하고 있을까요 그리워서 그리고 그려서 그리워요. 벌써 열 한 해입니다. 또 한 해를 손꼽는 일일 뿐이겠지요. 먼저 여러분의 품에 안긴, 안길 진 형과 홉이에게 뒷일을 부탁합니다. 아직 많은 분들이 저희를 잊지 않고 기다려주고 사랑해주신다는 것만 깨닫고 가요. 쏟아지는 사랑. 늘 그랬듯 그저 멤버들 여러분 생각하며 또 하루하루 잘 지내볼게요 사랑합니다. 고맙습니다 다음 초여름을 기약하며 남준

Hello, It’s been a while.

It was our 11th anniversary a while ago but, using the excuse that things have been really hectic, I wasn’t able to write even a small post. Hahaha

Come Back To Me came out a month ago, and 3 weeks ago, so did RPWP. Last year, after pushing and postponing my plans of enlisting with Hoseokie in April, I held hands with the younger members and we headed in together. And so 2023 went by, spent entirely with alcohol and work. I am jealous of my buddy’s sergeant patch but well.. I have no regrets. (hehe;)

I think this is the first time I’ve released something and not been able to talk about things directly with you. I have a lot to say but it’s all been written into the album so.. the album is purely the product of my fight with myself to become more honest. I hope that you keep reading it, over and over, for a long long time. It is a sincere, heartfelt wish.

Three days ago, Jin hyung was finally discharged. I brought along my saxophone and played it to be funny but honestly, I had a lot of complicated emotions running through me. Being the first to go was probably really lonely and difficult.. What was it like? That one year and six months treats everyone here equally. Now, we are probably living hyung’s past.

Out in the world for the first time in a while, I realised that time outside really does flow differently. Gravity feels different too.. everyone’s been living their lives regardless of my absence, doing well, flowing along nicely. I felt a little empty but, more than anything else, it felt great to get together with the members after a really long time and have a heart-to-heart over drinks (though more than half the conversation consisted of military stories.. haha). It had been nearly 10 whole months since we did something like this. Why did I miss these guys so much.. I did call them sometimes, randomly, asking them how they were doing.

Jin hyung did always tell us that he missed the other members a lot, that we were going to feel the same. Now scattered apart, living somewhere in Gangwondo, I understand it, it resonates so deeply. Actually talking face-to-face, I was reminded of the things that remain unchanging, the place that I have to return to, the person that I was.. it was a meaningful, precious time for all of us.

Where else will we be wandering? What expressions will we wear on our faces next year, on our twelfth anniversary? Missing you makes me picture you, and by picturing you I miss you more. We’re already in our eleventh year. All we have to do is just count one more. I entrust the future to Jin hyung and Hobi, who have been and will be the first to be embraced in your arms.

I’m taking back with me the realisation that there are still lots of people who haven’t forgotten about us, who are waiting for us. An outpouring of love. As always, I’ll try doing fine, day by day, thinking of you guys and the members

I love you. Thank you Until early summer next year, Namjoon

Trans cr; Aditi @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

[justwinginglife]

Fire & Ice

Hoshina thought that you were the nicest ice queen he'd ever met.

You had grown quite the reputation for yourself, always giving your bluntest advice on how officers could improve themselves whether they asked for it or not, and regardless of if they ranked below or above you. It wasn't that you were cruel or heartless, you were simply just right.

"You're going to get yourself killed if you keep hesitating when you shoot."

"You favor your left side, try to strengthen your right sometime."

"If I can take your flimsy punch, a kaiju can too."

Your advice was always sound, but you were always so solemn when you were doling it out that other officers couldn't help but shrink at your criticism of them.

But not Hoshina. In fact, he relished the chance to let you critique him, showing him what he could improve on. It wasn't much, honestly. But you appreciated that he would actually listen to you, so you tried your best to help him where you could. He was the only person who understood that your brutal honesty came from a place of wanting to help, or at least not wanting to watch the people around you die.

Eventually, you even started to crave his commentary on your fighting, admiring his battle intellect and learning from it. You didn't mind criticism as long as it was justified and served you some use. But you thought that criticism due to ill will was just stupid.

Lately, some people had started spreading gossip about you just because you'd said something a little too harshly and hurt someone's feelings. You didn't know who it was because you were always hurting someone's feelings. But in this line of work, you didn't have time to worry about manners, manners might get them killed on the battlefield. They might get you killed on the battlefield.

And you had too many goals, too many things to do, too many debts to repay, too many regrets to make up for to allow yourself the pleasure of death anytime soon.

So you pushed on, ignoring whispers about you around corners, and glares at you in the hallways. You wished someone had told you all the things you were lacking when you were younger, maybe then you would've been strong enough to save everyone you wanted to save. But you weren't and you had to live with it. In comparison to carrying that heavy burden, you felt your fellow soldiers could bear your criticism a lot better. Maybe then they could save everyone they wanted to save. Or they'd die with your harsh words in mind; either way, you didn't feel too guilty. It was their own fault if they didn't take your advice to heart.

Even though everyday was seemingly the same, and everyone acted the same towards you, the same terrified eyes trying to avoid yours, or the same confrontational eyes daring you to say one more thing about their skills, the one person who constantly surprised you was Hoshina. His eyes were kind. His eyes lit up whenever you were around.

He'd find any excuse to talk to you, to walk with you. If you sped up to avoid him, he'd jog to keep up with you. Eventually, you found that one day you'd started matching pace with him instead.

You'd started going to the same coffee place as him and you'd order the same drink unknowingly. You'd started noting what time he arrived at base and you'd started coming into work at the same time so you could walk in together. You'd even begun saying the same things as him sometimes. It wasn't until you became conscious of all these subconscious habits you'd started forming around him that you realized the depths of your feelings for him.

You would've thought that the ghosts of all your dead family and friends constantly swirling around you would keep any feelings besides guilt at bay, but there they were nonetheless. They kept rising to the surface, flooding your cheeks with crimson whenever he came just a little too close during a training session, or complimented you just a little too much. And one compliment was already too much.

After hearing all the gossip about you, calling you the Ice Queen, you'd started to feel cold as ice yourself. So why did he make you feel like you were on fire? Like your lungs were inflamed, like your heart was ablaze, like your cheeks were burning. But it was the most delicious aching you'd ever felt.

And it was a different ache than the pain you felt for your relatives that were long gone. You knew you could never bring them back. But Hoshina, he was here everyday, you had every chance to spend time with him and it still wasn't enough. If you were on fire, you wanted to fill his lungs with your smoke. You wanted to engulf every part of him until you didn't even recognize yourself anymore, until you were just his.

At first, you tried to resist your feelings, scolding yourself for liking the first person who was ever nice to you. But then you realized that even if everyone was kind to you, Hoshina would still be the only one for you. When you met him, you hadn't laughed in years. You didn't even know if you remembered how to laugh. But then he took it as a challenge upon himself to see your smile, to coax a giggle from you, and you found it easier and easier to laugh around him, to enjoy yourself around him. He was the only person you enjoyed your time with.

After nearly a decade of reserving all the best parts of yourself, burying them deep inside you, feeling unworthy of allowing yourself any happiness, you felt you owed yourself this one chance to be free. To just be you. And if you could give yourself to anyone, you wanted it to be him.

You wanted to keep giving him things, to just give him everything. You wanted to give him your scarf in the winter, when you were scared he'd catch cold. You wanted to give him a shoulder to lean on when others were shitting on his inability to use a gun again (you hated useless criticism but you hated it even more when it was criticism of him). You wanted to give him your best jokes, you had none at the moment but you thought you'd learn just for him, just to see him laugh. You wanted to give him your happiness, give him your sadness, give him your secrets, give him your worries, give him your dreams, give him your days, give him your nights. Any part of you, every part of you, you wanted him to have them all.

You didn't know if he'd still love you, the good and the bad together, you didn't even know how much good you had to give, but you swore you'd dig for it, search for any part of you that would make him happy. Any part of you that could give him a good life, you wanted to give it. You wanted to try. And if you tried and still weren't good enough, you'd still thank him for allowing you a slice of happiness.

With all these thoughts in mind, you told yourself you'd tell him how you felt tomorrow. You collapsed in bed, ready for rest. You'd need it to prepare yourself for the big day.

Unfortunately you didn't end up getting any sleep that night.

You laid in bed and wondered if your heart would just freeze over again if he rejected you. You'd be okay with that. You think. You honestly didn't know what you were even supposed to do if he accepted you and wanted to be with you. Would you even know how to properly love and care for someone again? All you had been able to give people so far were blunt remarks.

What if you told him he sucked in bed? What if you told him you didn't like the way he snored? What if you couldn't shut up about all the things you didn't like him once you were dating? You didn't think you'd make for a very good girlfriend.

But even with that in mind, you still wanted to try.

Eventually, you hoisted yourself out of bed and went to go seek him out. You didn't have to go very far, he had been looking for you.

"Hey! You're up early today. Listen, I'm working on my skills with a single sword and I'm not happy with the way I'm progressing; you're the only one I trust to give me proper feedback. Train with me?"

You smiled at that. "Of course. Anytime."

You followed behind him as he led you to the training room. As you walked, you found your eyes roaming over his back muscles. You quickly looked down to the floor once you'd realized what you were doing. But then, in no time at all, your eyes had drifted back up again to take in every inch of his body. You really needed to tell him how you felt, it was getting cumbersome just existing near him. You needed him to put you in your place or let you run your hands all over him. You stopped in your tracks and he turned to look at you, puzzled.

"Before we do that, I need to tell you something."

"What, you're in love with me?" He joked, chuckling to himself.

You sucked in a sharp breath and then continued. "Yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it."

His eyes widened. "I was kidding. Oh my god, I was kidding. Wait, what?"

"Unfortunately, I'm not kidding. I'm in love with you."

He stepped towards you. "Why is it unfortunate?"

"Because I can't stop thinking about you. It's distracting."

He took another step closer. "And... what if I said I was fine with that? Distracting you?"

"You're okay with me loving you?"

He took your hands in his. "I'm more than okay with it- I'm ecstatic."

You exhaled loudly. "So you...?"

"I love you too. And I'd love to be distracted by you any day."

"I can do that."

You started with a kiss. You honestly didn't even know if you were doing it right and you were sure he could tell you were hesitant. But it seemed he'd been waiting for this as long as you were because he took in every inch of your lips eagerly and didn't seem to care how inexperienced you were.

And the longer you kissed him, the less you cared about how inexperienced you were. You just wanted to keep kissing him, even if you were kissing him wrong.

He must've just had his coffee because you could taste it on his tongue. But you didn't mind, his coffee was now your favorite coffee after all. And it made you even more desperate to be with him knowing that he must've just woken up, gotten his coffee, and then set out to find you.

The swarm of thoughts buzzing in your brain quieted when he suddenly pushed you up against a nearby wall, his kiss more earnest now. His lips seemed to be made for yours, the way they melted against you perfectly. His hips steadied yours against the wall as he cupped your face and claimed you over and over again with passionate kisses.

He was really the most delicious distraction.

You could get lost in imagining a future with him, but the present was pretty damn good too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Yay, you made it to the end, good for you! Fun fact, kiss scene was not originally in the script for the finale, but I could hear @turtlesaee's commentary screaming at me for no kiss so I put kiss LMAO you have her to thank for the thirst at the end.