#so consider yourself tagged if you see this!!

[cloveroctobers]

I CAME HOME LATE — Terry Richmond [September Prompts] 🩶

A/N: listen…I’ve been wanted to write for this man since he was Mid-sized Sedan 😆 but he definitely wasn’t being talked about enough then. This isn’t anything big but I’m here to feed the tag a little with this thing so I hope you enjoy it!

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: ²¹⁾ steaming cups of sake + ²²⁾ an airport terminal at midnight.

WARNINGS: language and some angst?

<- check out my previous anthology prompt here.

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Being a night owl wasn’t foreign for you.

You were born when the twilight hit the evening sky and your mother always had a hard time getting you down for the night as a baby. For as long as Terry’s known you—since high school—it was no surprise to learn that night shifts were where you thrived best.

He’s at the airport terminal, not knowing your schedule but taking the risk to show up where you worked. He had the urge to be near you again once it was set in motion that he was selling his food truck to head east to start over with his cousin, Mike. Terry had no issue adjusting to change as long as it has substance in the end. He couldn’t leave without seeing you and although it’s been a minute since you both spoke, he didn’t take it personally.

You were his ex-wife after all but that didn’t mean that the utmost respect for you vanished. Ever. Terry made himself comfortable in the crisp cool of the quiet pale blue airport, sticking to the front of the large building but couldn’t help his eyes searching the area every so often for you. He had a feeling that you would be coming around sooner than later and exactly at 12:03am, he spots you being led to the revolving doors with a man who was dressed in security attire.

Your light laughter is almost childlike, a little raspy and airy as the both of you squeeze each other’s shoulders lightly in farewell for the night before you turn to face Terry’s direction.

“Terry,” your voice is hushed with a hint of croaking in it, which is unusual since you were normally upbeat once the moon shined but from the sound of it, the day at the airport must have been a long one.

Terry says your name with a dip of his head, eye contact always on lock, which you held before slowly closing your eyes, not knowing what to expect of this appearance.

“Everything good?” The security guard asks based on your reaction and you raise a hand up with a nod of your head, informing him that it was.

Terry briefly stared at the security guard underneath his lashes, who must have been a good friend of yours—not that good if he was letting you walk out into the night to your car on your own—sure you could handle yourself if it ever came down to it but it was the right thing to do.

“Y’all take care.” The security guard states as he realizes that Terry is no danger to you.

Terry gives a crooked smile, “you as well, man.”

You step to him, fixing the strap to your backpack on your left shoulder—your better shoulder that didn’t suffer from a extreme tear that took two surgeries to fix—, “what’s happening?”

“Hm…I thought it was a nice night so I took a ride.” Terry smirks at you while you roll your eyes and begin walking towards the automatic doors.

Throwing your head back as you stood on the sidewalk you glance at Terry and begin to walk backwards, “A nice night to throw my mind for a loop? You never did have good timing.”

He would have thought that was a jab, considering that the papers he sent your way two weeks before he got honorable discharge arrived in your shared mailbox the same day your elderly dog died. It’s not like the papers were a shock, it’s been discussed over many video chats but like you said, Terry Richmond didn’t have the best timing when it came to certain things.

He was a marine after all so timing kind of came with the profession…perhaps if you were looking for something to blame it would be that.

“Now we both know that isn’t a hundred percent true,” Terry lightly points, head downwards and a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips, “is it a crime to come see my favorite girl?”

Letting out an exaggerated yawn, you give him an expressionless face afterwards before spinning back around to head to the parking lot, with Terry following you into the foggy low sixty degree night. He’s holding the car door open for you after you unlocked it with your clicker and you’re shoving your things into the passenger side before taking a seat in the driver’s side.

You peer up at him, “Did you need something?”

“Yeah,” Terry starts, “come with me to Liu’s…just to talk.”

Raising your brows you say, “Why now?”

“He hasn’t said anything to you?” Terry questions.

Lifting your once slumped shoulders, you stare back at Terry and he’s never known you to be a liar.

“Should he have?” You press, “He’s never gotten into our shit before so why would he? If you wanted your business told, you should have said something to Ken.”

Terry snorts at the mention of Mr. Liu’s nephew.

He was a good guy but he was crap at secrets and excellent at taking direction.

“You’re not wrong,” The man with the goatee inhales, “look I won’t hold you…yet I’m leaving in the morning and i don’t know when I’ll be back. I just thought I should come by.”

He thought of you in the moment and there’s neber been a day where you didn’t think about Terry, all bright eyed and imagining the what if’s. The divorce had to happen, it was the right decision but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss him.

Terry gave you the space you needed, he couldn’t keep coming around as if the whole trajectory of your relationship wasn’t altered. It never got disrespectful however you were very vocal once you returned home from work, finding every trace of him erased from the home except for pictures. A conversation was eventually had over dinner, a passionate night was shared and just like that he was gone in the morning. You feared that you would run into him in town often, since Mr. Liu’s was pretty popular and Terry’s truck was more lowkey and out the way with a good amount of locals— just how he preferred it.

You did the best staying away from that side of town for a while before you realized how silly you were being. Life didn’t have to stop because Terry was no longer in it. That was your choice. You were never the type of person to be so dependent on anybody before.

So you thought.

Being surrounded by family constantly…you never had to feel alone. Terry was the opposite, an only child raised by a single mother who was a pediatric nurse and worked nights. He found a bonus home with your family and became part of it, no questions asked.

“You’re leaving?” You quiz, “for how long?”

Terry can see you visibly flinch after the words slipped through your lips. You were trying to put up a shield or maybe even a boundary for not caring as much. Like a concerned wife should. Just like he said before, just because you’re no longer romantically involved didn’t mean he didn’t value your friendship.

“Don’t know. Heading out to Shelby Springs for Mike and a fresh start.” Terry states and it’s not like you can feel a way about that.

Inhaling air through your teeth you say, “that bama ass place?”

Terry tells, “I know. It’s a in and out type of thing. Getting a pick up and starting a business from as far as we can get from there.”

You don’t say anything but the look on your face says enough.

“…Don’t worry.” He starts.

Scoffing you reply, “who’s worried?”

“That pretty little face is.” Terry even pokes your cheek with his free hand that’s not holding the door open but you slap his hand away, leaving him smiling softly, “so…are you coming with me?”

“To Shelby springs? Hell no!” You jest with a wink, “I can go for a vegetable spring roll though.”

There’s amusement in Terry’s eyes as he nods, “that’s it?”

“I don’t like to eat heavy at night, remember?” You defend.

A hearty breakfast was always more your speed.

“Yin and Yang,” Terry smiles at a memory you don’t push for him to share because you’ve probably thought about it plenty times before whenever you had breakfast alone, “You’ll lead?”

“Course.” You give a small smile and Terry makes sure you’re all the way in before shutting the door behind you.

He follows behind you on his bike and the airport is a good distance from downtown. It’s not long before you’re trying to pull over but Terry just zooms past you, grinning back at you over his shoulder while you’re shaking your head in disbelief behind the wheel.

This was a challenge for Terry, a norm to not only test himself but you and you never backed down from a competition.

Letting out a low-whistle you comment, “Moving like that and you’re traveling to Shelby in the morning?” You say as you walk up to the doors where Terry is waiting, “you might be taking a long nap instead.”

The both of you were hardly sleepers, you with your hint of OCD and mind racing always finding something to do and Terry was always on military time even before he went into the field. He was the earliest riser and believed in that old saying, “the early bird catches the worm.” Your rest time together involved pillow talk, just breathing the same air either facing each other or you being the little spoon, and of course there were times where you both didn’t mind helping the other go to sleep.

After locking up his bike, he shifts the keys around on the ring to unlock the restaurant holding the door open, “Nah, I’ve got the best stamina in the world.”

Spinning to face Terry after he locks the door behind you two, you’re pushing your lips out with a tilt of your head once his eyes settle back on you. It’s a teasing smile and he’s leans towards you on his way by, “get your head outta the gutter.”

Laughing in between the stools, you turn to rest your elbows on the counter which Terry is behind now. He asks, “You down for some of Ken’s sake?”

“Ah…now I see.” You sigh dramatically, “you brought me here to get me drunk.”

Terry laughs, “no. I just remembered that you enjoyed it a lot back in Japan and Ken’s been experimenting thanks to his dad’s recipe all while offending Mr. Liu.”

Where you got married.

“I can’t even tell you the last time—fuck it! It’s your going away night and you should be honored that I’m here so why not?”

“How did this turn into praising yourself?” Terry jokes as he gets ready to prepare the warm beverage.

You grumble, “Somebody besides myself needs to.”

Terry flicks his spring green hues to you, “so you’re not seeing anyone?”

“It’s not the security guard.”

Terry frowns, “funny how I didn’t even mention him.”

Wagging your finger at him you respond, “I saw the way you were analyzing my friend with that high opacity setting that you call eyes.”

He pauses and snickers, “oh yeah? And what did they say?”

“You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt because that’s just how you are but…you were curious about us.”

“That was a thing then?” He quirks up a brow while you press your cheek into your fist.

“Nope!” You answer as you move to sit up on one of the chairs, “That gorgeous chocolate man is happily taken with four kids, with three of them being triplets.”

“Damn!”

“Terry.”

He laughs and then shrugs, “what? I’m only kidding…kids are blessings.”

You hummed as you watched him work for a while before he’s placing steaming sake in front of you.

“What should we toast to?” You ask, pinching at the glass before finding a safe spot of the cup to hold up, “Goodbye’s?”

Terry immediately furrows his brows, “come on now…you know that’s what I’m actually not good at. Look at this as more of an…until next time.”

Clinking your cup against his as a response, you both slowly sip at the hot sake and its sweetness is felt with its warmth. “Not bad, Ken. Not bad.”

You both share a laugh, letting the silence hit while the sake cools off some. The silence doesn’t last long before you’re both poking fun at each other and falling into more conversation. It flows even when it gets tense, blood burning as your feelings come to the surface with Terry listening to you intently and speaks to you calmly.

“When I brought up divorce the first time it was never to be manipulative…it was to save us both the heartache of this ongoing distance.”

You open your mouth to interupt but Terry stared at you from underneath your eyelashes, which makes you deeply sigh, “We grew apart but we tried. You know it and I know it. No matter how long you would have held me down it happened and I felt like you deserved better than that. I thought you felt the same way when you agreed and signed.”

It’s not like you signed right away! You actually took your sweet ass time, even when he pulled what he pulled.

“I mainly signed because you pissed me off, sneaking through the house to get your things like a thief in the night while I was at work. I should ask how you managed to do it all but then I remembered who you are.” You exhale, “I’ve got to get some hobbies besides working myself to the bone and constantly thinking about you. I should be over this already. It’s been months.”

“We did put in a solid five years of marriage though.”

Dated since senior year just for him to go off to the military three years later. The love and the effort was there but you been around a lot of military significant others at group meetings and their stories were much worse. So you tried to be thankful of the time shared but that didn’t mean you didn’t have your own sorrow too.

‘It’s not something you can just get over.’ Terry thinks.

“That we did.”

And it’s back to the eye game again and it makes your stomach feel like flipped flapjacks.

You can’t stand Terry Richmond.

He intertwined your fingers once you’re both outside. This was happening, he was leaving again and you chose to be numb about it on the outside but slightly achy on the inside. It was weird really, how you could both live in the same town and never run into each other but it still felt comforting to know that you were both out there carrying on—even if it wasn’t beside one another.

You wish he would hold you instead of your hand but Terry didn’t want to cross that line. Not when you revealed that your heart wasn’t really in it to sign the papers in the first place.

Squeezing his rough hand back before letting go, you’re aware that he’s crashing at the restaurant tonight so it’s closer in the direction he’ll be heading in the morning. Yet there’s still a part of you that wishes he would come home.

It’s early when your eyes peel open to focus on your block out curtains. They were the best investment you made (from a cousin you didn’t like—but no one can say you were never supportive) since it’s always sunny in this town and the only time you preferred light was in your kitchen and living room but you still have a feeling that it’s early morning. You sit up in bed, ears searching for any sound in your bungalow.

Your feet are sliding into your slippers, knuckles rubbing into your eyes as you peek at the clock on the nightstand to see it’s another 5am. As you’re handling your business in the bathroom across the hall from your bedroom, you can’t help that pull in your gut that brings you to the front of your home.

Flicking on the lights, you yelp at the sight of Terry sitting in the dark of the living room staring off in space.

It’s been days since you last saw him.

You pushed him to the back of your mind like you trained yourself to do. Putting your attention elsewhere and even picked up a hobby to keep yourself preoccupied besides just those long double shifts at the airport.

Now he was back and something shifted within him again that didn’t sit well to you. You carefully took a step towards him and his eyes followed you but much slower this time.

“Terry,” breathe his name, “…what’s wrong?”

He simply flips the palm of his hand over that’s resting on his knee and you reach out to place yours right in his while you move to sit next to him. Terry squeezes your hand like his life depends on it and it makes your heart rate spike, it doesn’t hurt—he’d never purposely do so—but it’s strong enough to let you know that he needs you.

“Can I get you something? Water? Those shady over easy eggs you like so much?”

That gets a snicker to escape his lips, always finding your issue with eggs to be humorous. You were not an egg person and commonly called it, “the devil’s snot,” which let Terry know you might have been spending too much time with your granny and great-aunties.

“Maybe later,” he says, “can you just be here with me?”

You don’t hesitate to cup his face once he turns his gaze to you and not this daze he seems to be in. He slowly blinks at your touch, head moving to press a kiss into the palm of your hand. You nod and he moved again to lay in you lap, hands wrapping around your hips tight that you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Something was wrong and you were determined to fix it—if he would let you. You didn’t push him and let Terry rest as you squeezed one of his shoulders being trailing your fingers across his back to the other.

That’s when you felt it underneath his shirt, a bandage of some sorts. You kept it to yourself for now, knowing he would tell you as you continued rubbing circles across his back to soothe him.

It had to have been a half hour when Terry dozed off and your legs were aching. You forgot to put a pillow down for extra cushion but Terry never had any problems using your body as his personal pillow. Some things never change.

Your attempt to weasel out of his hold was a challenge before you realized he was holding onto you on purpose. It was good to still see some humor in him due to whatever happened once he left this town.

“Be for real,” you tell him as he looks back at you, “I’m trying to get up and make breakfast and this is what we’re doing?”

Terry sits up, always the light sleeper but there’s a weight in his chest that won’t ever subside, “wanted to see if you still had it in you to get out of my hold…you need some more work.”

“I lug baggage at the airport that’s heavier.” You sass pushing yourself off the couch, “I didn’t get my stretches in yet so excuuuse me, Mr. Richmond.”

Terry mutters playfully, “sounds like excuses to me.”

“You know what? It’s too early for your irritation so why don’t you take another nap?”

Terry shakes his head as you make your way over to the fridge, “nah, I much rather watch your face while you mentally fuss over the eggs.”

“Ah so I’m your source of entertainment for you this morning am I?” You place your hands on your hips as Terry places his elbows into his knees, “let me go find my flapper dress.”

“…I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a dress again.” He admits, eyes burning into you from across the room.

Rolling your eyes you turn right back around so he couldn’t see how much of an effect that had on you. It shouldn’t by any means but here your insides were acting up!

When you turn around with the carton in your hands, you’re met with Terry’s chest that catches you by surprise. His arms lock over your shoulders as you carefully hold onto the eggs and feel him relax against you. He always smelled like leather and pine and that also hasn’t changed. Slowly you snake a free arm across his waist and lean your ear into his chest, finding his heartbeat. It’s always the most soothing thing, equivalent to your hands on his back.

You’re not sure how long you’re holding onto each other but you don’t question what this is all about or what this is for. You didn’t need to, you knew Terry Richmond and you knew when something was up, regardless of the distance that was between the two of you. He came to you in the middle of night at your job and again in the early morning. The pull was still there and perhaps it would always be that way.

He wants to help you make breakfast, after he lets go of you and you almost tell him to sit his big behind down, sensing that he was injured in more than one way but he’s not exactly a guest in this home. So he puts in the work beside you, just like old times and begins to open up about his time in Shelby springs much to your own heartache for him.

Terry arrived back home after all this time and as you sat from across each other just listening, you realized him being here was better late than never. 

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Continue with my September anthology prompts here.

[mxstellatayte]

pretty please: chapter two.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter two warnings: covid happens :(, avoiding big emotional conversations, phone sex (not graphic,) i definitely deleted any and all covid social distancing rules when i was writing this but it'S FOR THE PLOT, oral sex (f receiving, not graphic,) LEWIS IS SUGAR DADDY!!!!!!!! (but there's also feelings but we don't want to admit that yet hehehehehehe)

chapter two word count: 3.7k

taglist (crossed out means i could not tag you/no blog was found): @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore @lucycowr @benstormy

@anat33-blog1 @Xoscar03 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @nenamalenaa @champagneproblems17

@marknolee @toby33b @theendofthematerialgworl @soloqualcosa @sassyinchident808

join my taglist here!

take my hand while we dance on the edge of a knife

tuesday, 3 december, 2019

your phone chimes in the formula 1 radio tone, a custom ringtone you'd set just for lewis. glancing away from your computer screen, you see a simple text.

Hey.

what should you say? "hey yourself?" no, too sassy. "hey, thanks for the mind-blowing sex a few days ago. i think i'm into you, do you wanna go out?" way too forward. "hey!" too excited.

you settle on a simple "hey." in response.

for good measure, you add on a second text.

Thanks for the flight yesterday :)

his response? a simple "Yeah of course!"

"alright. so i'm going to have to be the one to bring it up. gotcha."

so this was the dance that you'd be doing. you'd just move on from the most life-changing sex you've ever had with four texts. you'd take a step forward, try to ask about what this would mean for your professional relationship, if anything, and he'd have one-sentence answers before moving on to a different topic.

that's fine.

it totally didn't make you insane.

definitely not.

instead of thinking about your client-slash-friend-slash-maybe-fuck-buddy over your winter holidays, you opt for drowning yourself in advance work, opting to make your contributions to the february 2020 issue the best the world has ever seen. your articles for the january issue are long submitted, but now that you've submitted everything for finalization for the next two months, you have a staycation at home with your cats, crochet, shitty reality tv, and a lot of alcohol filling up your schedule for the next two weeks (and a short visit to your parents up in leeds for christmas, but that's naught but a short interruption to your routine,) and you don't intend on letting work interrupt a single moment of the next two weeks.

the key word in that sentence being intend.

although, is it really considered work if it's just texting back and forth with someone who's a client-slash-friend-slash-maybe-fuck-buddy and not exactly a coworker?

"girl, i swear down on my nan's grave," amelia begins, and you grin, already knowing you're about to get a true amelia lorenz lecture, "if you don't make a move on him before new year's, i will, and i don't think he even knows my name!" she continues by weaving an intricate web of every single sign she's seen that points to the mutual attraction between yourself and the driver, and you're not sure when the right time is to tell her that you've already had sex with him. luckily, you find an opportunity when she stands from your couch to refill her glass of whiskey and pauses her monologue.

"is now a good time to tell you that we shagged after abu dhabi?"

amelia's head whips around so fast you're surprised it doesn't snap off of her neck. "you what?" you grin sheepishly, any and all confidence you've ever had in your entire life having evaporated in a microsecond. when she sits down opposite you on the couch, her left leg tucked into her crotch and her right hanging off the side, she has to set her glass on your coffee table so that she doesn't splash the whiskey everywhere. you both know what's coming purely based off of her body language. she takes a deep breath, then presses her hands together in a prayer-like stace and rests the nook of her nose in her fingertips. "let me get this straight." she pauses. "you." her right hand points directly at you as she says your full name. "shagged the lewis hamilton. and you didn't tell me immediately?"

"why do you think i wasn't on the flight back?" amelia's eyes widen in realization, and a grin spreads across her face.

"he flew you back on his jet?" you nod, taking another sip of your drink, and amelia squeals with delight. "i need every single detail. start talking."

friday, 13 march, 2020

your phone vibrates on your desk, and you glance over at it, unlocking it when you see the f1 logo on the notification. your heart sinks when you see what the notification reads, though.

"formula 1, fia and agpc announce cancellation of the 2020 australian grand prix"

"shit," you mutter, switching your phone off and resting your head in your hands. it won't be long before the lockdown reaches london, you know that, but it's difficult knowing that lewis was looking forward to being in the car again, especially with some of the new regulations that he hoped would lead to closer racing.

you send him a text before you go to sleep- it's almost 3 am.

Sorry to hear about the race. I know you were looking forward to driving.

by the time you've fallen asleep, though, lewis has seen your text and he gnaws at his lower lip, his thumbs hesitating over the keyboard of his phone's screen. yeah, he was looking forward to driving, but as the pandemic numbers increased, his anxiety about the race weekend did, too.

Thanks. I'm glad they called it off, though. The numbers were getting too high too fast.

months pass. your interviews with various drivers at the monaco and british grands prix are moved to video calls. the world gets thrown into lockdown, eases out of it, and then gets thrown into lockdown once more. dolphins are spotted in the canals of venice. george floyd's murder sparks a revolution that reaches all corners of the globe.

you don't go a day without texting, calling, or video calling with lewis.

it's sickening, really, how much his smile is keeping you sane. well, if you're being honest, it's a combination of his smile, your medication, and going on a lot of walks around your neighbourhood. leytonstone is a lovely part of london, yes, but there's only so many different routes you can take around the neighbourhood before you start itching to jump on a train and go anywhere.

in early june, you get the email. you'll be traveling to silverstone for a set of interviews with various drivers for the 70th anniversary race. it's the fifth of seventeen races on the updated calendar, and the email states that you may be sent to the abu dhabi grand prix, as well.

wednesday, 29 july, 2020.

you're practically vibrating with excitement as you board the first of four trains that will take you to your hotel. you're leaving a week before you're due in silverstone, though, because why wouldn't you take advantage of the double header race? you've never been to a race purely as a spectator and your giddiness makes you laugh. how going to a race has given you the butterflies in your stomach that you haven't felt since you were a teenager, you'll never know. sure, with the fia's no-spectator rule, you aren't really sure how people are planning on watching the race, but you're sure you'll learn as the weekend progresses. either way, you're one of many fans taking the train up to silverstone despite the rules stating that no fans could enter the paddock or the grandstands, many hopeful that simply being in the same general area might get them a chance of seeing any of the drivers in person. a few of the racing fans on the train even recognize you, one timidly holding the july 2019 edition of vogue.

the edition where your first interview with lewis was published.

"could you sign it?"

your jaw opens and closes beneath your mask a few times before you're able to regain your composure, accepting the magazine and sharpie from her with a smile.

"what's your name, darling? here, sit with me." she does, sitting across the aisle from you and nervously tucking a curl of ginger-brown hair behind her ear.

"kathleen. but you can call me kat," she adds, and you smile as you write a small note on the inside cover, adding your signature afterwards. "are you interviewing lewis hamilton this weekend?"

"i don't have any interviews this weekend. just next weekend." you look more intently at kat's outfit, and you smile below your mask. she's wearing a mercedes hoodie and baggy jeans, and you notice that her outfit reminds you of someone. "i like your outfit. it reminds me of some of lewis' outfits, actually." kat beams beneath her mask, her eyes scrunching up into happy crescents.

"thank you! he's kinda the inspiration behind my outfits for the weekend. i'm a huge fan of him, have been for years. i'll be honest, i didn't read much about fashion until you interviewed him, but i really liked your article and looked up some of your others. the one you wrote critiquing paparazzi for stalking celebrities was incredible! you wrote it so freely. i loved it." kat catches herself, noticing her rambling, folding her hands in her lap nervously. "sorry. i talk when i'm nervous."

"you have nothing to be nervous about. i'm just another human being." you hesitate a moment, leaning over to her as you pass the magazine and sharpie marker back. "can i tell you a secret?" she nods. "i was terrified the first time i interviewed lewis." kat's eyes grow wide, and you nod. "i was so nervous. i almost got sick a couple of times, actually."

"really?"

"mhm. i'm surprised i didn't."

"i definitely would."

"i doubt that. lewis is as nice- if not nicer- than he seems. after the first five minutes of talking to him, i knew i had nothing to worry about."

the two of you spend the remaining time on the trains talking together, and she animatedly drags her father towards you and you shake his hand, introducing yourself.

"pleasure to meet you. my name's dan. thank you for being a role model for my little girl." your heart swells with pride at the praise, and you nod.

"you're raising a very fine young woman, dan. she's got a bright future ahead of her." dan nods and thanks you, grinning behind his mask. you know, from what kat's told you, that dan has been a fan of formula 1 since the michael schumacher days and that he's been to three grands prix in his life- silverstone 2003, silverstone 2004, and germany 2008. this'll be his fourth. you also know that the white and papaya t-shirt he's wearing is from the most recent race he's attended. "do you happen to have instagram, dan?"

"i do, why?" his eyes narrow slightly, and you can understand why your question seems a little strange.

"i'm writing a piece about fan presence at recent grands prix, since there's been the 'no fans allowed inside' order from the fia, and would love to interview you and kat before and after the weekend," you lie. "i'd be willing to keep you both anonymous, if you'd like. if i can message you on instagram, it wouldn't be as much of a hassle as writing emails to communicate."

"i'd prefer we remain anonymous, but i'm sure she'd love to be interviewed."

you can't tie me down, but you can tie me up

thursday, 30 july, 2020.

the next morning, you call lewis, the hotel's breakfast menu next to you on your bed and your notepad perched on your lap, your pre-weekend "interview" with dan and kat in just over 90 minutes. lewis picks up the call on the third ring.

"hey!" you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much, a rush of dopamine flooding your brain at the sound of his voice. "can i call you back in half an hour? i've got media stuff to do in about five minutes."

"i'll be fast. can you get two paddock passes made for sunday under the names kathleen and dan gallagher?"

"they'll have to be media passes, but yeah, why?"

"you'll see. i'll text you the names so you have them. see you in a few days!"

after texting bono a quick message regarding your own pass and ensuring that he would keep it completely and entirely a secret from lewis, you flop backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment. "what the hell have i gotten myself into?"

since the pandemic began, your relationship with lewis has been... well... less than professional.

your daily phone calls and texts with him have contained topics that still make shivers run up your spine and a flush of heat fill your cheeks and neck when you think about them. there have been many nights where you've been on a call with lewis and you're both breathing heavily, clothes messily strewn across your respective beds in a rush to lay back against your pillows and touch yourself to completion, obeying each other's commands and wishes.

there have also been many nights where you're tucked into your beds, roscoe fast asleep next to lewis and your own furry companions, pipsqueak and garfburger, the latter of which amelia named, curled into a ball of rare calmness next to you. the two of you ultimately fall asleep on the call, the idea of having someone with you, even if not physically, helping soothe your anxiety.

both types of calls are incredibly intimate and beautiful, each in their own way.

four days later, you're meeting up with bono outside the paddock to get your own pass and messaging back and forth with dan, attempting to figure out where you can meet him near the paddock entrance. trying to explain to him why you need to meet up today when your scheduled interview time is tomorrow without giving too many details proves to be a difficult task but you're thankfully able to manage. five minutes after bono appears, three media passes in hand, you see dan and kat round the corner. you wave him down, a smile on your face, and kat immediately comes running over to you. today, she sports a pair of baggy jeans, a hamilton jersey over what you assume is the same mercedes hoodie she was wearing on the train, and an incredibly well-loved pair of black platform converse.

"good morning to you both," you say, a bright grin on your face beneath your mask. from the way kat's eyes scrunch up behind glasses you can tell her own smile outshines your own.

"good morning! dad said you had some mid-weekend questions for us?"

"well..." your eyes flick back and forth between dan and kat, and you can see the gears turning in dan's head, but kat remains oblivious. "the mid-weekend questions were a bit of a lie, but i think- i hope- that what i have in my jacket pocket is enough for you to forgive me." with that, you pull the two black and purple media passes out of your jacket, check which one has kat's name on it and which has dan's, and hand them to their respective owners. "kathleen and dan gallagher, welcome to the formula 1 silverstone paddock."

"are you serious?" dan says in disbelief, and when you nod, kat squeaks in delight and throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around you in a vice grip.

"thank you thank you, thank you!"

"you're very welcome. are you ready to go see some cool cars?"

"is that a joke? of course!" kat looks at her father, hoping for some small nod of approval, and, when he does, you think the girl still glued to your torso might just combust from excitement. you can tell that dan's barely containing his own joy, his eyes mirroring the amount of joy you see in kat's.

"in that case, let's go." after about an hour of walking through the paddock, finding spare headsets in the mclaren garage, and smiling as kat and dan can't control their own amazement at the works of engineering in front of them land sheepishly asking a few drivers for photos,) you make your way, finally, to the mercedes garage. "re you two hungry at all? care for a coffee or tea? mercedes has the best food in the paddock. "

"i'd love a coffee, actually." dan says. "kat? you want anything?"

"a cuppa sounds perfect, thank you."

"i've got it. here, have a seat, i'll be right back, " you say, attempting to sound as casual as physically possible when you know you're about to blow their minds. they sit at one of the tables in the small cafe, and you go up to the barista, ordering dan and kat's drinks before ducking away and making your way to lewis' driver's room, knocking a few times and stepping back, smiling when the door opens and you see him, fuck, he looks good. "hi, lewis."

he knew you were going to be in silver stone for the 70th anniversary race, but that isn't until next weekend. "you've here early," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "why's that?"

"i can't want to see my favorite driver at his home race?" you cock an eyebrow and cross your arms, but there's sarcasm evident in your voice. "plus, i missed you. can i tie up your schedule for a bit?"

"it depends. how is my schedule being tied up if i agree?" lewis is matching your own bass, and you smile.

"just some people i'd like you to meet. remember those passes i asked you to have made? well... they're in the cafe and i think the cherry on top of their day would be meeting you."

"in that case, you can tie up my schedule, but i only have fifteen minutes before the strategy meeting." you grin brightly, and your eyes squishing in the corners makes lewis smile in turn, "before we go, though, i do have a little request. come in for a quick minute?" he steps to the side and you gladly follow, turning towards lewis when you hear the door click shut behind you. he's taking off his Mercedes- branded face mask, and you take that as permission lo take your own off. "you know..." he begins, stepping towards you. your breath catches in your throat as all of your senses one immediately overwhelmed with everything lewis. his left hand comes up to hold your and check you gladly lean into his touch, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast his calloused to fingertips. the next words he says ring in your head, repeating like church bells.

"i missed you, too." those words are the last thing you process before lewis' lips are on yours and every ounce of tension leaves your body.

"mm, lewis, " you say, pulling away from the blissful kiss much to your dismay. "our guests are waiting." lewis groans, and you giggle.

"fine, but after we've done with that and i'm free from my strategy meeting, we're coming back here and finishing what we started."

"deal."

kat and dan are, obviously, completely and entirely dumbfounded when you return to the cafe, six-time world champion in tow.

they're even happier when they watch lewis cross the line in first place, five seconds ahead of max verstappen.

after the podium and post-race interviews, you find yourself crowded against the wall of lewis' driver's room yet again. your kisses are hot and messy, desperate hands wandering around each other's bodies. sometime in the lust-addled haze, you're laying back onto the couch pushed against the back wall and your jeans are being thrown somewhere across the room. whatever, you don't care where they are or how wrinkled they're going to be because lewis is eating you out again and, within minutes, you're cumming on his tongue again as his nose bumps against your clit. when he kisses you, your cum smears on your cheeks and chin and nose and it's so, so filthy, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"are you coming to any other races this year?" lewis speaks up, his voice echoing through his chest. he's found you a pair of joggers that you'd slipped on after another set of blissful kisses and a messy (but very perfect) handjob. he's laying on the couch and you're resting on top of him, your arms wrapped around his torso and his own surrounding your shoulders. your socked feet are tangled with lewis' own, and his fingers, unusually absent of any jewelry, run gently along the curve of your shoulders.

"i'm not sure. i haven't gotten any race assignments yet from upper management, and traveling is really difficult right now if you don't have a work visa."

"i bet i can send some emails." you can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"lewis," you scoff, burying your face in his chest. he smells like forests and jasmine and safety. "you're going to be the death of me."

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (12)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 700+

- Previous part: 11

- Next part: 13

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The skies over Dragonstone were overcast, a heavy blanket of gray clouds that seemed to press down on the ancient fortress. The sea winds swept through the courtyard, carrying the salty tang of the ocean as you stood, watching the crimson form of Caraxes descend from the heavens. The Blood Wyrm was unmistakable, his long, serpentine body slicing through the air with a grace that belied his fearsome reputation. As Caraxes landed with a thud that sent vibrations through the stone beneath your feet, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of nostalgia and wariness.

It had been ten years since you’d left King’s Landing, ten years since you’d made your choice to live in exile with Rhaenyra, far from the politics and treachery of the court. Yet, even here, on the windswept isle of Dragonstone, the shadows of your past seemed ever-present. And now, with Daemon’s arrival, those shadows had come calling once more.

Daemon slid off Caraxes with a practiced ease, his movements as fluid and confident as ever. His silver hair, longer now, whipped around his face in the brisk wind. He wore a dark riding cloak that billowed behind him as he approached, his expression a curious blend of amusement and something else, something that made you tense.

“Nephew,” Daemon greeted, his lips curling into a wry smile as he stopped before you. “It’s been too long. I’d say Dragonstone suits you, though I must admit, the quiet life doesn’t seem quite your style.”

You clasped his arm in greeting, your grip firm as you met his gaze. “Daemon,” you replied, your tone cordial but guarded. “I’d say the same for you. But then, I don’t imagine you’ve come all this way just to admire the scenery.”

Daemon laughed, a low, almost conspiratorial sound. “No, no. Though I must say, the view from the skies is magnificent, as always.” His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischievous glint. “I couldn’t resist dropping in. I still remember the show we put on all those years ago—Lannister’s face was something to behold, wasn’t it?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Yes, you did enjoy yourself, didn’t you? Stirring up the hornet’s nest and then watching it burn.” There was a pause, then you added, more seriously, “But we’ve paid the price for it, haven’t we? Exiled from our father, from the crown. All for defying a marriage that should never have been considered.”

Daemon shrugged, as if such consequences were of little concern to him. “What’s life without a bit of rebellion, hmm? You and Rhaenyra made your choice, and I supported you then as I do now. Besides, it was amusing to see the Lannisters quiver for once. You took what was rightfully yours—no more, no less.”

You nodded, though the weight of the years spent in exile bore heavily on your shoulders. “But why are you here now, Uncle?” you asked, your voice turning serious. “You didn’t come all this way just to reminisce.”

Daemon’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more contemplative look. He took a moment, glancing around the courtyard, his eyes lingering on the old walls and the distant sea beyond. “Viserys sent me,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “He wishes to see you both. He’s… missed you, despite everything. The years have not been kind to him without his children. And he wants to meet his grandchildren.”

The mention of your father’s name brought a mix of emotions surging to the surface. You’d tried to bury your anger, your resentment, but hearing that Viserys wanted to see you now, after so many years of estrangement, felt like reopening an old wound.

“He wants to meet my children now?” you said, your voice flat, betraying none of the turmoil inside. “I suppose it’s been difficult for him, hasn’t it? So difficult that he married Alicent Hightower after Otto couldn’t push her onto me as well.” Bitterness seeped into your words. “And then he tried to do the same with Rhaenyra.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching you closely. “I won’t deny that Otto Hightower’s machinations played a part in all this. And yes, Viserys made his choices. Poor ones, perhaps. But he’s still your father, and the weight of his crown has only grown heavier over the years.”

You turned away, looking out toward the horizon where the sky met the churning sea. The memories of those last days in King’s Landing, the betrayal, the forced choices—it all felt too close, too raw, even now. “He was willing to sacrifice both of us for the sake of alliances, for the sake of his damned peace.”

“And now he’s paying the price for it,” Daemon said softly, his voice lacking its usual bite. “You and Rhaenyra—your absence has left a wound in him. He’s not the man you remember, nephew. The years, the burdens of the crown… they’ve taken their toll. He’s not well.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions inside you. Part of you wanted to scoff, to dismiss the idea that Viserys could feel regret, that he could truly want to reconcile. But another part of you, the part that remembered your father not as a king but as the man who had once held you and Rhaenyra close, who had smiled and laughed and told stories of old Valyria—that part of you ached to believe it.

“And what of Rhaenyra?” you asked, turning back to Daemon. “He’s banished her in all but name. What does he want from her now?”

Daemon sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “He wants his daughter back. He wants his son back. He wants to meet the children he’s only heard about in letters. Whatever anger or pride kept him away before, it’s fading. He’s sick, Y/N. And he’s afraid.”

You clenched your jaw, the conflicting emotions tearing at you. This was the last thing you had expected—a summons, an invitation to return after all these years. And yet, the thought of facing your father, of returning to that world of intrigue and betrayal, made your blood boil.

“It’s not that simple,” you said quietly. “We’ve built a life here. Our family is here. And after everything that’s happened…”

“No,” Daemon agreed. “It’s never simple. But he’s reaching out, in his own way. He’s trying to mend what’s broken. If you’re willing to listen.”

You looked down at the stones beneath your feet, the wind carrying the distant cries of the dragons above. This was a decision that couldn’t be made lightly. Too much was at stake—your family, your children, and Rhaenyra’s heart, which had been battered by years of rejection and exile.

“And if we say no?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Daemon shrugged, though there was a seriousness in his eyes that belied his casual posture. “Then you stay here, and the world keeps turning. But know this: Viserys is dying. If you don’t see him now, you may never have the chance to see him again.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. You turned away, your heart pounding as you tried to process what Daemon had said. It felt like a trap, like the last desperate plea of a man who had already lost too much. But there was also truth in it, a truth that made your chest ache.

“I’ll speak to Rhaenyra,” you said finally, your voice strained. “But I make no promises.”

Daemon nodded, his gaze understanding. “That’s all I ask, nephew.”

He turned then, walking back toward Caraxes, who waited patiently in the courtyard. As Daemon climbed back into the saddle, he looked back at you one last time, his expression solemn. “Take your time, Y/N. But don’t take too long.”

With a final nod, he urged Caraxes into the air, the great dragon’s wings beating powerfully as they lifted off the ground, the sound echoing across Dragonstone.

You watched as they disappeared into the sky, the wind whipping around you, carrying with it the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future. The decision lay heavy on your shoulders, a choice that could change everything once again.

The horns of the city rang out twice, their deep, resonant call echoing across the Red Keep and through the streets of King’s Landing. The sound brought King Viserys back from his restless thoughts, his frail form stiffening as he looked out the open window. His children had returned, just as Daemon had promised. The realization brought a mix of relief and trepidation to his heart.

Viserys turned to Ser Harrold Westerling, who stood dutifully at his side. The years had not been kind to the king; his skin was pallid, his frame thin and weakened, and his once proud stance was hunched, as if the weight of his crown had finally crushed him. His breathing was labored, each intake a struggle, but his eyes, though dimmed, were still sharp with anticipation.

“Ser Harrold,” Viserys said, his voice strained but determined. “Prepare an escort. The Prince and Princess are to be brought from the Dragonpit to the Red Keep with all the honor they are due. Ensure their children are treated with the respect of their station.”

Ser Harrold bowed, his face a mask of concern. “As you command, Your Grace.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the king’s weary form. “Shall I summon the Maester? You seem... unwell.”

Viserys waved him off, his hand trembling. “I’ll see my children first. There will be time for rest later.”

With a nod, Ser Harrold left to make the arrangements, leaving Viserys alone in the chamber. The king took a deep, shuddering breath, leaning heavily on his cane as he made his way toward the door. Each step was a struggle, but the thought of seeing you and Rhaenyra again after so many years gave him strength he had thought long gone.

The courtyard of the Red Keep was filled with anticipation as the welcoming party assembled. Lords and ladies, retainers and servants all gathered, whispering among themselves as they awaited the arrival of the Prince and Princess. Viserys stood at the head of the party, flanked by his Kingsguard and councilors. His gaze was fixed on the grand entrance, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

And then, you rode in, leading the procession on horseback, Rhaenyra at your side. The sight of you both, after so long, took his breath away. You had changed in the ten years you’d been away—no longer the young man who had left King’s Landing in a storm of rebellion and defiance. Your hair, still the pale blond of your Targaryen lineage, was longer now, pulled back into a neat braid. Your features were more defined, a hardness in your jaw and eyes that spoke of battles fought and won. You wore dark armor, polished but unadorned, the emblem of House Targaryen etched into the breastplate. There was an air of command about you, a strength and resolve that had grown in your years of exile. But there was also something colder, a guardedness in your expression that made Viserys’s heart ache.

Rhaenyra rode beside you, her presence as commanding as ever. Her silver hair, loose and windswept, framed her face, and her violet eyes were fixed ahead, the only hint of her anxiety the slight tension in her jaw. Behind you both, riding on smaller horses, were your children—Jacerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. They sat tall in their saddles, their expressions a mixture of awe and trepidation as they took in the grandeur of the Red Keep.

You dismounted first, your movements fluid and controlled, as you stepped forward to greet your father. Rhaenyra followed suit, helping the children down from their mounts. Viserys felt a lump in his throat as he watched, his eyes lingering on his grandchildren, whom he was seeing for the first time in the flesh.

“Father,” you greeted, your voice formal and cold. The title was spoken without warmth, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of disappointment and disdain. “It’s been a long time.”

Viserys’s heart clenched at the harshness in your tone, the bitterness that lay just beneath the surface. He took a faltering step forward, leaning heavily on his cane. “Y/N...” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You’ve... you’ve grown into a fine man. I—”

“Save the pleasantries, Father,” you interrupted, your voice low but cutting. “We both know why we’re here. You sent Daemon to bring us back after ten years of silence. What is it you truly want?”

The courtyard seemed to still at your words, the gathered nobles exchanging uneasy glances. Rhaenyra stood slightly behind you, her face unreadable as she placed a reassuring hand on Jacerys’s shoulder. The boy looked up at his mother, his eyes wide with uncertainty, but he remained silent.

Viserys swallowed, the pain in his chest worsening. “I wanted... I needed to see you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve missed you both, more than I can say. And I... I want to meet my grandchildren.” His eyes moved to the three boys, his gaze softening. “They... they’re beautiful, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra inclined her head, her expression guarded. “They are my pride, Father.” Her tone was polite but distant, and Viserys felt the chasm between them, one that had only widened with time.

You turned to Alicent then, who stood beside Otto, her face pale and tense. “Alicent,” you greeted, your tone almost polite but edged with disdain. “Or should I say, Your Grace?” You gave her a curt nod. “I must confess, I’m unsure of how to address you now.”

Alicent flinched at the coldness in your voice, her eyes lowering for a moment as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Prince Y/N,” she began, her voice strained but steady. “It is... good to see you after so long. The king has been unwell, and it is a comfort to him to have his family near once more.”

“Family,” you echoed, the word heavy with irony. “Yes, I suppose that’s what we are. Though I doubt Rhaenyra and I were much of a comfort to him when he chose to marry you.”

Alicent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she forced herself to meet your gaze. “I never wished to cause you or Rhaenyra pain,” she said quietly, her voice sincere despite the tension between you. “I—”

“Stop,” you said, your tone softening just slightly. You could see the pain in her eyes, and though part of you wanted to lash out, you restrained yourself. “This isn’t about you, Alicent.”

Before the silence could stretch any further, Maester Mellos stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Prince Y/N, Princess Rhaenyra,” he greeted, his tone deferential. “Welcome back to King’s Landing. We have much to discuss, but for now, let us focus on your safe return.”

You nodded curtly, though your gaze remained on your father. “Yes, there is much to discuss.”

The tension in the courtyard was palpable as you turned to Tyland Lannister, who had remained silent through the exchange. His face was a mask of civility, though there was a tightness around his eyes as he forced a smile.

“Prince Y/N,” Tyland greeted, his voice strained. “It’s good to see you again. The realm has missed your presence. We hope you’ll find King’s Landing... accommodating.”

You studied him for a moment, your expression unreadable. “Lord Tyland,” you said finally. “I hope your brother has recovered from the shock of our departure all those years ago.”

Tyland’s smile faltered, but he kept his composure. “Lord Jason has moved on, as have we all,” he replied, his voice tight.

Before the exchange could escalate further, Otto Hightower stepped forward, his voice smooth and diplomatic. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside, Your Grace, Your Highness. We’ve had food and wine prepared, and there is much to discuss.”

Viserys nodded, though his gaze remained on you and Rhaenyra, his eyes lingering on the boys beside her. “Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, let us go inside.”

You exchanged a glance with Rhaenyra, who gave a small nod. The five of you—husband, wife, and children—followed the king into the Keep, the tension hanging over the family like a storm waiting to break.

The grand hall of the Red Keep was filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation as the family gathered for the first meal they had shared in over a decade. The long table was set with an abundance of food and drink, from roasted game and fresh fruits to flagons of fine Dornish wine. Yet, despite the luxurious spread, the atmosphere was strained, the tension palpable in every glance, every word exchanged.

Viserys sat at the head of the table, his frail frame dwarfed by the opulent chair. He watched his family with a mixture of relief and trepidation, his gaze flickering between you, Rhaenyra, and your children, and then to Alicent, who sat to his right, her expression carefully composed. On the other side of Alicent were her children���Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena—all of whom sat quietly, their eyes darting curiously to you and Rhaenyra.

You and Rhaenyra were seated directly across from Alicent, your children beside you. Jacerys and Lucerys were trying to appear composed and dignified, their youthful faces betraying their unease in such an imposing setting. Joffrey, the youngest, shifted restlessly in his seat, glancing up at the grand, unfamiliar surroundings. You reached out and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, a small smile on your lips.

Viserys cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “It is... heartening to have my family together once more,” he began, his voice weak but sincere. “We have much to discuss, but let us first enjoy this meal.”

The conversation started tentatively, with polite inquiries about the children and your life on Dragonstone. But as the meal progressed, Viserys turned the topic to the elephant in the room, his eyes resting on you and Rhaenyra.

“I understand,” Viserys said slowly, his gaze shifting from you to Rhaenyra, “that you were married in the old Valyrian chapel on Dragonstone. An ancient and sacred place.”

You inclined your head slightly, your expression neutral. “Yes, Father. Rhaenyra and I were wed there, according to the customs of our ancestors.” Your tone was measured, but there was a subtle edge to it. “It is as valid a marriage as any other in the eyes of our house and tradition.”

Tyland Lannister, seated a few places down, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His lips pressed into a thin line as he recalled the enormous sum House Lannister had spent on the grand wedding that never took place, not to mention the damage to the Sept near Casterly Rock. “Of course, Prince Y/N,” he said, his voice strained. “One can hardly dispute the... sanctity of such a union. Though the Sept where... your departure occurred still bears the scars of that day.” He forced a polite smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

You gave him a cool look, your expression unyielding. “I’m sure House Lannister can afford a few repairs, Lord Tyland.”

Tyland’s jaw tightened, but he did not press the matter further, his hand clenching around his goblet.

Alicent, who had been observing the exchange quietly, set down her knife and fork, her eyes lingering on you and Rhaenyra, then shifting to the children seated beside you. There was an underlying tension in her gaze, a restrained irritation that simmered beneath her polite facade. It was a feeling she had harbored for years, one that had only grown as she watched you and Rhaenyra defy everything the realm expected of you.

She couldn’t help but wonder, as she often had, if Rhaenyra had deliberately lured you into her bed before you left for the Dornish border. Had she seduced you, entangled you in her web to secure your loyalty and affection so completely that you would defy the king and steal her away from her own wedding? The thought gnawed at her, though she pushed it down, focusing instead on the repulsion she felt at your union. To her, who had been raised in the Faith of the Seven, your marriage was an affront, a sinful act of selfishness that mocked the very traditions she held dear.

As Alicent’s gaze lingered on your children—on Jacerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey—Rhaenyra felt the weight of her scrutiny. She looked up sharply, her eyes locking with Alicent’s. There was no warmth in Rhaenyra’s gaze, only a cold, defiant challenge. For a moment, the two women stared at each other, the years of bitterness and betrayal hanging between them like a shadow.

“Rhaenyra,” Viserys said suddenly, breaking the tension, his tone filled with a forced cheerfulness. “I must say, the boys have grown strong and handsome. I would very much like to get to know my grandsons better.”

Rhaenyra tore her gaze away from Alicent, her expression softening as she looked at her father. “They are as spirited as their namesakes,” she replied, her voice steady. “Jacerys and Lucerys have been practicing their swordplay, and Joffrey, well... he is still finding his way, but he has the heart of a dragon.”

Viserys smiled, though the effort seemed to cost him. “I look forward to seeing them in the training yard. Perhaps they could even teach their uncles a thing or two.” He gestured toward Alicent’s children, who had been watching the exchange in silence.

Aegon, now a young man, glanced at you and Rhaenyra with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something darker that he hid behind a lazy smirk. Aemond, his face serious, studied you with the intensity of someone trying to understand an enemy. Helaena, on the other hand, seemed lost in her own world, her fingers tracing patterns on the tablecloth as she muttered softly to herself.

You looked at your half-siblings, your expression unreadable. “We will see, Father,” you said evenly. “It’s been a long time since we’ve shared such... family activities.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, she almost spoke, her lips parting as if to say something, but then she stopped, her fingers tightening around the stem of her goblet. She looked at Viserys instead, forcing a smile. “The children have missed having their father present. I’m sure it would do them good to spend time with their family,” she said, though her words felt hollow.

Viserys nodded, his eyes distant. “Yes, yes... family. It is what binds us, even when we are apart.” He looked at you then, his gaze lingering on the hardness in your eyes, the guarded expression on your face. “Y/N, Rhaenyra... these years have been difficult for us all. But now that you are here, perhaps we can begin to heal these wounds.”

“We’ll see,” you said quietly, your tone flat. “It’s not so easily done, Father.”

The conversation drifted on, the tension ebbing and flowing with each exchange. The food was eaten, though few seemed to have much appetite. The wine was poured, though most drank sparingly. The atmosphere remained strained, the past casting long shadows over the present.

Aegon, his gaze flicking between you and Rhaenyra, leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “So, what’s life like on Dragonstone, brother? It must be... exciting, living among the dragons and the ghosts.”

You looked at him, your expression cool. “It has its challenges,” you replied, your voice calm. “But it’s home.”

“And the people there?” Aemond asked, his tone more direct. “Do they welcome you as their Prince, or do they fear the dragon that stole the princess away?”

There was a sharp intake of breath around the table, but you merely raised an eyebrow. “The people of Dragonstone know where their loyalties lie,” you said smoothly. “And they respect those who defend them, not those who sit idle in luxury.”

The barb hit its mark, and Aemond’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Alicent spoke up, her voice strained but firm. “That’s enough, Aemond.” She turned to you, her gaze steady. “Y/N, Rhaenyra... despite everything, I am glad you are here. For the king’s sake, if nothing else.”

Rhaenyra’s lips tightened, but she inclined her head slightly. “For the king’s sake,” she echoed, her voice tinged with bitterness.

The uneasy quiet was punctuated by the occasional clink of cutlery against porcelain, the scrape of a chair, or the hushed murmur of a courtier whispering nervously. Though there were many gathered at the table, it felt as if there were only two camps—those who stood with you and Rhaenyra, and those who supported Alicent and her children. And, of course, King Viserys, caught between them all, like a man trying to hold back a tide with his bare hands.

Alicent set down her goblet, her fingers lingering around the base, and cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the table. Her eyes moved from Rhaenyra to you, then back to Rhaenyra, a calculated look in them. “Rhaenyra,” she began, her voice polite but edged with something sharper. “It’s been so many years since you left. We all... wondered what compelled you to take such drastic actions.” She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I suppose, after everything, you must have had your reasons for eloping and leaving your family behind.”

Rhaenyra stiffened, her fingers curling around the stem of her goblet. “My reasons, as you put it, were very clear, Alicent.” Her tone was steady, but you could hear the barely restrained anger beneath the surface. “I chose to marry the man I love, the man I wanted to spend my life with. That is a choice that, as I recall, was not available to you.”

A sharp intake of breath rippled around the table, courtiers exchanging glances. Alicent’s smile faltered, but she recovered quickly, her eyes flashing with something dark. “You’re right, of course. Duty has often dictated my choices. But not everyone has the luxury to simply follow their heart, especially when the stability of the realm is at stake.” Her voice was soft, but there was steel in it.

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed. “The stability of the realm? Is that what you call forcing me into a marriage with Jason Lannister? All for some political gain?” She leaned forward, her voice rising slightly. “You speak of duty, Alicent, but don’t pretend for a moment that you or your father haven’t benefited greatly from those same decisions.”

Alicent’s face flushed, but she kept her composure. “We all have a role to play, Rhaenyra. You were supposed to be the princess, to stand by your father’s side, not flee to Dragonstone with your brother and leave the rest of us to pick up the pieces.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to retort, but you reached out, placing a hand on her arm, your touch gentle but firm. “Enough,” you said quietly, though your voice carried authority. You turned to Alicent, your gaze steady and unreadable. “We did what we felt was right, given the circumstances. And it’s clear those decisions were not made lightly.”

Alicent met your gaze, her eyes searching, as if trying to understand you, trying to find the man she remembered. “And what circumstances were those, Y/N?” she asked, her voice softer now. “What was so dire that it justified breaking your father’s heart and turning your back on the realm?”

You exhaled slowly, your eyes flicking to Viserys, who watched the exchange with a pained expression. “Our father was forcing Rhaenyra into a marriage she did not want, to a man she did not love. And he was willing to do the same to me.” Your voice was calm but firm. “I made a promise to protect my sister, and I will not apologize for keeping that promise.”

The hall was silent, every eye on you and Alicent. You could see the hurt in her eyes, the resentment she tried to hide behind her composed mask. You turned away from her then, focusing on Otto Hightower, who had been watching the exchange with a calculating expression.

“Lord Hightower,” you said, your voice carrying the weight of your title. “Perhaps you could enlighten us on the current state of the realm. I would hope that as heir to the throne, I would be made aware of any... pressing matters.”

Otto leaned forward slightly, a faint smile on his lips as he addressed you. “Of course, Prince Y/N. The realm is... stable, for the most part. The Stepstones remain a volatile area, despite Prince Daemon’s recent efforts. There are still struggles with Dorne, though nothing that threatens immediate conflict.” He paused, his gaze shrewd. “There have been whispers of unrest in the Riverlands, but they have been managed thus far.”

You nodded, though your expression remained serious. “And what of the alliances formed in my absence? Surely, there have been changes in the political landscape.”

Otto’s smile widened, though it did not reach his eyes. “Indeed. Since your departure, several key marriages have strengthened ties with the Reach and the Stormlands. The marriage of your sister, Princess Helaena, to Prince Aegon has also ensured a more unified front within House Targaryen.”

You glanced at Aegon, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He looked at you with a mix of curiosity and disdain, his mouth twisted into a faint smirk. “And what of your marriage, Y/N?” Aegon drawled, his voice carrying across the table. “I’ve heard many tales of the... unique customs on Dragonstone.”

You shot him a cold look, your patience wearing thin. “My marriage is as strong as any in this room,” you said sharply. “And it is recognized by those who matter.”

Before Aegon could respond, Viserys raised a hand, his voice trembling but determined. “Enough of this bickering. We are here as a family, not as political adversaries.” He looked at you and Rhaenyra, his eyes pleading. “I have missed you both terribly. And I wish to see my grandchildren grow up knowing their family. Whatever has happened, we must find a way to move forward. Together.”

There was a moment of silence, the king’s words hanging heavy in the air. You glanced at Rhaenyra, whose face softened slightly, her anger ebbing away in the face of her father’s frailty.

But Alicent wasn’t done. She turned back to Rhaenyra, her eyes hardening. “And what of your sons, Rhaenyra?” she asked, her voice deceptively light. “You’ve been away so long. Do you ever wonder what kind of life they could have had here, at court? Among their family?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze snapped to Alicent, her eyes narrowing. “My sons are dragons, Alicent. They belong on Dragonstone, among their people, not in this nest of vipers.” Her voice was cold, each word a dagger.

A murmur rippled through the courtiers, tension rising. You could see Otto’s calculating gaze flick between you and Rhaenyra, as if weighing the implications of every word spoken.

Alicent’s face tightened, but she didn’t back down. “I suppose that’s one way to see it,” she said quietly. “But a child should know their family. Even if that family isn’t perfect.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare presume to lecture me on family, Alicent. You, who wormed your way into my father’s bed, who bore children of your own while trying to strip me of everything that was mine.”

The tension at the table was suffocating now, every courtier’s gaze fixed on the two women, their faces pale with the anticipation of what might come next.

Before the situation could escalate further, you interjected, your voice calm but firm. “We will discuss this another day,” you said, your eyes moving between Alicent and Rhaenyra. “This is not the time or place for such discussions.”

Alicent’s gaze flicked to you, her eyes filled with a mixture of resentment and sadness. “You’ve changed, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “You used to care more about... so many things.”

You felt a pang in your chest, but you forced it down, your expression unyielding. “I still care, Alicent. But my priorities have changed.” You glanced at your children, who were watching the exchange with wide eyes, their confusion and fear evident. “My family is what matters now. And I will protect them, no matter the cost.”

A silence fell over the table, the weight of your words settling like a stone. Viserys looked between you and Alicent, his eyes filled with a deep sorrow, as if he were watching his family splinter before his eyes.

Otto, ever the diplomat, leaned forward slightly, his tone soothing. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time. For now, let us focus on what unites us, rather than what divides us.”

Viserys nodded slowly, though his gaze remained troubled. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes, let us try to be... a family again.”

The meal continued in strained silence.

The bedchamber in the Red Keep felt both familiar and foreign after so many years. The room was adorned with rich tapestries depicting dragons in flight and the Targaryen sigil emblazoned proudly on the walls, a constant reminder of your heritage and the legacy you bore. The soft flicker of candles illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over the plush rugs and the intricately carved bed that dominated the center of the room.

You stood near the window, gazing out over the sprawling city of King’s Landing, the lights of the city twinkling like distant stars in the darkened sky. The sounds of the bustling capital, though muffled, reached your ears—the hum of voices, the distant clatter of hooves against cobblestone, the occasional call of a merchant trying to sell his wares even at this late hour. It was a strong contrast to the quiet, windswept solitude of Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra was across the room, slipping out of her gown and into a simpler, more comfortable robe. Her silver hair, loose now, cascaded down her back in waves. She watched you from the corner of her eye, sensing the tension in your posture, the heaviness in your shoulders.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence that had settled between you. “Are you all right?”

You sighed deeply, turning away from the window to look at her. “I’m not sure how to answer that,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration and sorrow. “Seeing him today... I barely recognized the man who was once our father. He’s a shadow of what he used to be.”

Rhaenyra moved closer, her bare feet silent on the thick rug. She reached out, placing a hand gently on your arm. “He’s aged more than the years should allow,” she agreed, her tone laced with sadness. “But it’s not just time, is it?”

You shook your head, your jaw clenched. “No, it’s not.” You turned back to the window, the city sprawling out beneath you, feeling impossibly far away. “It’s them. The Hightowers. Otto, Alicent... they’ve twisted him, manipulated him. I remember a time when he was strong, decisive. Now he seems... broken, as if they’ve drained the life out of him.”

Rhaenyra’s hand tightened on your arm, a gesture of solidarity. “They’ve poisoned his mind with their ambitions. Alicent has always been her father’s pawn, and Otto... he’s wanted to control the throne for as long as I can remember.”

You nodded, your eyes narrowing as you thought back to the day’s events, the way Otto’s gaze seemed to assess every word, every action, always calculating, always scheming. “I saw the way he looked at us today, weighing the situation, trying to find a way to turn it to his advantage. And Alicent...” You trailed off, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “She’s no different. They want to use Father as a puppet, to control the realm through him.”

Rhaenyra sighed, her gaze dropping to the floor. “And he lets them. He let them slither their way into every corner of his life, every decision. He’s not the father who once stood before the council and proclaimed us his heirs, who would have fought for what was right, no matter the cost.”

You turned back to her, your eyes softening as you reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “I know, Rhaenyra. I know. But what can we do? If we push too hard, if we try to wrest control from them, it could tear the realm apart.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with defiance. “Then let it tear. We have dragons, Y/N. We have strength they can only dream of. We can remind them what true power looks like.”

You shook your head, your expression pained. “I don’t want to fight them, Rhaenyra. I don’t want to start a war. But I won’t let them continue to destroy what little remains of the father we once knew.”

She looked at you, her gaze intense, searching your face for answers, for a way forward. “Then what do we do?” she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

You took a deep breath, your hand still lingering on her cheek. “We play their game, for now. We show them we’re not weak, but we don’t strike unless we have to. Father needs to see that we’re here, that we’re not abandoning him to their schemes. Maybe... maybe we can remind him of who he used to be.”

Rhaenyra leaned into your touch, her eyes closing briefly as she took comfort in your presence. “I want to believe that’s possible,” she murmured. “But I fear he’s too far gone. Every time I look at him, I see the pain in his eyes, the weight of all these years of being pulled in different directions. I see...” Her voice caught, and she paused, taking a shaky breath. “I see how they’ve taken him from us.”

You pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her, holding her tightly as if you could shield her from the world, from the pain that seemed to seep into every corner of your lives. “We’ll find a way, Rhaenyra. We have to.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in the low lit chamber, the world outside forgotten as you held each other, drawing strength from the connection that had carried you through so much. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the distant sounds of the Red Keep—the footsteps of guards, the murmur of servants—faded into the background.

“Do you think he’ll see it?” Rhaenyra asked softly, her head resting against your chest. “Will he see that they’ve twisted everything, that they’ve made him into a tool for their own gain?”

You sighed, your fingers gently tracing circles on her back. “I don’t know. I hope so. But even if he does, I’m not sure he has the strength left to fight them.”

Rhaenyra pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours, fierce and determined. “Then we’ll be his strength. We’ll remind him that he’s not alone, that he still has us.”

You nodded, your gaze steady as you looked down at her. “We’ll fight for him, for the father we remember, for the man who once fought for us. But we have to be careful. We can’t let Otto and Alicent see us as a threat, not yet.”

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “For now, we’ll play the dutiful children. But if they push us too far...” Her voice trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging in the air.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “If they push us too far, we’ll remind them what it means to cross House Targaryen.”

A faint smile curved her lips, and she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “I’m glad I have you by my side,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

“Always,” you murmured, your voice firm. “Now and forever.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, the weight of your responsibilities, your fears, and your love all intertwined in the quiet darkness of the chamber. 

[luvrodite]

RO'S KINKTOBER 2024

welcome to my second kinktober event!!! last year was so much fun and i hope you enjoy this one even more!!

warnings. please mind the individual warnings on each fic and bear in mind that you are responsible for your own media consumption. if you don’t like something, don’t read it! if you feel as though something is missing a tag, please let me know!

happy reading!

ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

ᯓ★ ONE. OCTOBER 1 | FUCK OR DIE

GOT ME CALLING OUT FOR HELP (S-O-S)

in retrospect, it was only a matter of time before you got hit. you should consider yourself lucky — there are worse fates than being fucked like your life depends on it. (it’s gotham. of course it does) or: you get hit and jason deals with the fallout

content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent due to intoxication, chemical aphrodisiac, established relationship, dry humping, penetrative text, begging, unprotected sex, creampie. more tags to come

ᯓ★ TWO. OCTOBER 5 | COCKWARMING

SIT STILL, LOOK PRETTY

jason doesn’t know what’s come over you, but he’s going to finish this chapter. then, if you’re good – and only then, he’ll make you cum.

content warnings. f!reader, established relationship, dominant jason. more tags to come

ᯓ★ THREE. OCTOBER 12 | MASK KINK

HUNT YOU DOWN, EAT YOU ALIVE

"did no one ever tell you not to walk around at night by yourself? it’s not safe around these parts." the only problem with his warning is – he looks like the not safe in question.

content warnings. f!reader, established relationship, predator/prey scene, public sex. more tags to come

ᯓ★ FOUR. OCTOBER 19 | INFIDELITY

SAY YOU GOT SOMEBODY, I'LL SAY, 'I GOT SOMEONE TOO'

he's patient. he knows how to play the long game, he's done it before. a new boyfriend is a hitch. that's all it is. he's always been a good problem solver.

content warnings. f!reader, cheating, obsessive jason todd. more tags to come

ᯓ★ FIVE. OCTOBER 26 | VIBRATOR

WHAT'S UP, BULLET?

in retrospect, it had been wishful thinking for you to hope your boyfriend wouldn't find out about the toy you kept hidden in a box beneath your bed. you just hadn't expected this reaction.

content warnings. f!reader, use of vibrator, minor overstim, cunnilingus, fingering. more tags to come

ᯓ★ OCTOBER 31 | SUCCUBUS

EXORCISM...

jason knows a thing or two about bad dreams, but the pretty thing that's been haunting his nights couldn't possibly be so bad, right?

...SEE YOU IN YOUR DREAMS!

content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent, monsterfucking, succubus reader. more tags to come

ⓘ a reminder that you alone are responsible for your media consumption. if you don’t like something, don’t read it!

[0omillo0]

Model! Han Jisung x Interviewer! Reader

Love at first sight

Han is called by Balmain to attend his fashion show, but he doesn't know that that night his eyes will meet the ones of his soulmate

( 🫧 ) fluff!!

masterlist

The air buzzed with excitement in the heart of Paris as fashion enthusiasts and celebrities gathered outside the grand Palais des Congrès. Laughter and chatter filled the space, and the scent of fresh croissants wafted through the air, mingling with the high-end perfumes of the crowd. The sun cast a warm glow over the gathered throng, illuminating the diverse styles decked out for the Balmain fashion show.

Among the crowd, Han Jisung adjusted his tailored Balmain blazer, its sharp lines accentuating his slender frame. He smiled at the cameras flashing around him, but his thoughts drifted beyond the lenses. He was here for more than just the fashion; he craved something real, something he hadn’t found in the industry yet.

As the show began, the atmosphere shifted. Models glided down the runway, showcasing bold silhouettes and vibrant colors. Amidst the dazzle, a voice broke through the sounds of gasps and applause.

“Han Jisung! Over here!”

He turned to see a woman waving a microphone, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. She was a reporter, her name tag identifying her as Y/N. Jisung felt a magnetic pull towards her, a warmth that filled the air between them.

“Can we grab a quick interview?” she asked, her voice confident yet friendly.

“Sure!” he replied, taking a step closer. The noise of the crowd faded as their eyes locked. “What do you want to know?”

“First, what’s it like walking the Balmain show?” Y/N asked, her curiosity genuine.

“It’s exhilarating,” he replied, a grin forming. “The energy of the crowd, the designs... it’s all so inspiring. I feel like I’m part of something bigger.”

Y/N noted his passion, her heart fluttering. “What do you think sets Balmain apart from other brands?”

“Balmain is about boldness,” he said, his expression earnest. “Every piece tells a story, and I love being part of that narrative.”

Her pen scribbled notes furiously, but her attention remained on him. “And what story do you want to tell today?”

He paused, considering his words. “Today, I want to show that fashion can be both art and a reflection of self. It’s important to stay true to who you are. Also I’m glad Oliver himself gave me this opportunity.”

“Beautifully said,” Y/N smiled, captivated. “What’s next for you?”

“I’m working on some personal projects,” Jisung replied, his gaze unwavering. “I want to explore music more deeply, and maybe, a collaboration with some artists. Fashion is just one part of my expression.”

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, the buzz of the fashion show becoming a distant hum. Jisung leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “And what about you? What brought you to Paris?”

Y/N hesitated, then chuckled softly. “I’ve always dreamed of being in the fashion capital, interviewing the most talented people. I guess you could say I’m living my dream, but it’s hard to keep up with all the glamour.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he countered, his voice low and sincere. “You’re doing amazing work. And you definitely have a way of making an interview feel... special.”

As the show concluded, the crowd erupted in applause. Jisung glanced at Y/N, who was still watching him, her eyes filled with admiration. “I really appreciate this time, Y/N. It’s not often I feel this connection during interviews.”

“Likewise,” she replied, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“I just realized,” he said, his expression shifting slightly. “I forgot my phone at the hotel. Could I borrow yours to call someone?”

“Of course!” Y/N responded, handing him her phone, a flutter of excitement swirling in her stomach.

He took the device, his fingers brushing against hers as he dialed a number. But he didn’t call anyone, instead he gave her her phone back. Confused, she looks at her phone reading in the notes his number and ‘Call me when you want :)’

“Wait, you’re giving me your number?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I mean, why not? We had a great conversation,” he replied with a playful smile. “And who knows, maybe I could use your help navigating the Parisian scene.”

Her heart raced as she took the slip of paper he handed her. “I’ll definitely keep this,” she said, tucking it away. “I’d love to help.”

“Great! Maybe we can grab coffee or something?” Jisung suggested, his eyes hopeful.

“Absolutely,” she said, feeling a surge of excitement. “I’d love that.”

As the crowd began to disperse, Y/N felt an urge to seize the moment. “Why don’t you come to my apartment after the show? It’s not far from here. We could talk more, maybe about that collaboration you mentioned. I don’t want to sound to.. hasty tho!! Feel free to refuse!”

“Really?” His face lit up, and a grin spread across his lips. “I’d love to. Just give me a second to change out of this suit.”

“Take your time. I’ll be waiting,” she replied, her heart pounding.

A short while later, they met outside, Jisung now in a casual yet stylish outfit. He walked beside her through the charming Parisian streets, the sun setting and casting a golden glow on everything.

“This city is incredible,” he said, glancing around. “I can see why people fall in love with it.”

“It’s even better when you’re exploring it with someone,” Y/N said, glancing sideways at him, the connection between them palpable.

They arrived at her apartment, a cozy place filled with eclectic decor and soft lighting. Y/N gestured for him to sit as she poured two glasses of wine.

“Cheers to new friendships,” she said, raising her glass.

“Cheers,” he echoed, clinking his glass against hers, their fingers brushing again.

As they sipped their wine, the conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the air. Jisung leaned in closer, his voice a soft murmur. “You know, I’ve never felt this way about someone I just met.”

“Me neither,” Y/N confessed, her heart fluttering as she met his gaze. “It’s like... there’s something special here.”

He sighed, a content smile on his lips. “We should enjoy this moment, whatever it is.”

Y/N watched him, captivated by the way his eyes sparkled. “Agreed. But I can’t help but wonder what happens next.”

“Let’s not think about the ‘next’ just yet,” he said, moving a little closer. “Let’s just enjoy what we have right now.”

With the atmosphere thickening, Y/N felt a rush of courage. “Jisung,” she murmured, “would it be too forward if I said I really want to kiss you?”

His breath caught, his eyes widening slightly before a soft chuckle escaped his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

And just like that, the space between them shrank, the world outside fading away. Jisung cupped her face gently, leaning in until their lips met. It was a sweet, tentative kiss that quickly deepened, filled with the promise of something beautiful.

When they finally pulled away, both breathless, Y/N smiled shyly. “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” Jisung admitted, his forehead resting against hers. “But I’m glad it happened.”

Y/N gazed into his eyes, feeling a warmth spread through her. “So, what do we do now?”

“Let’s keep this between us for now,” he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I think we have something worth exploring.”

“I like the sound of that,” she said, her heart soaring. “A secret romance in the city of love.”

“Exactly,” he replied, a smile playing on his lips. “Just you, me, and Paris.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the city lights began to twinkle, reflecting the magic of their newfound connection—a love that blossomed amidst the glamour and chaos, hidden yet vibrant, waiting to unfold.

As days turned into weeks, their secret meetings became the highlight of both their lives. They strolled through cobblestone streets, shared quiet dinners in tucked-away bistros, and found solace in each other’s laughter.

One evening, as they sat on a balcony overlooking the Seine, Y/N turned to Jisung, her heart full. “What if we told the world?”

He paused, his gaze thoughtful. “I want to, but I’m afraid of how it might change things. The industry can be harsh.”

She nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “But we can’t keep hiding forever. I want to be proud of what we have.”

“Me too,” he admitted, taking her hand. “Let’s give it time. We can enjoy this moment without the pressure of the world watching.”

Y/N smiled, feeling reassured. “Okay. We’ll take it slow.”

Their connection deepened, the love that had sparked in Paris growing into something beautiful and real. They learned to navigate the complexities of their lives, balancing their careers with their devotion to each other, always cherishing the moments stolen beneath the Parisian sky.

And as they embraced the uncertainty of their future, one thing remained clear—their love was worth every risk, every whispered secret, and every stolen kiss. In the city of love, they had found each other, and that was more than enough.

[allaboutnalu]

The AllAboutNalu Gift Exchange is back for 2024! Even if you participated last year, please read the rules again as changes have been made.

Thank you to the ever talented @kaleilaart for this years banner!

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[luckydeuce]

Last Line(s) Tag

I was tagged by @donotnomi , @wayrad and @feyd-meowtha (via @london-cowboy but lol it's still just me...), thank you so much sweets!!!

Now I clearly lost my marbles :) Healing from writer’s block through Canva as we speak.

“I don’t suppose so,” John takes a sip of his drink. “But you remind me of someone I once knew.” “Hm,” says the blonde. He’s watching John’s mouth. John’s watching him watching his mouth. “Where? When?” John smirks. It’s actually kind of fucking funny, he hadn’t thought of this in years. “Ages ago, back in Manitowoc, Wisconsin.” He pulls his lips between his teeth. Releases them with a smack. “That’s where I’m from.” “Hm,” the blonde copies him. A pull, a smack. The vermillion of his mouth spit-slick. They lock eyes, and then the man reaches forward, making John assume he’s going to touch him, but instead, he plucks the toothpick from John’s drink. Puts it between his own lips, rolls it to the corner of his mouth. “I’m Bucky,” John says. It’s the only thing he can think of. Plus, it’s better to set a boundary here—before the guy asks. It’s easier that way. “What’s your name?”

I'd love to tag all my mutuals and like 37821 other people but that would be annoying so please just consider yourself tagged if you see this!!!

[crxzytogether]

Lol I wanna address this even tho nobody asked because I’m mad. Like ship whoever you want as yk this person said but leave it out of our tag-💀 my problems more with the fact that they tagged byler for this post than what they said but yk since they tagged us might as well respond.

Firstly, “ideas planted by your community”? Huh? Girl what- you mean our evidence? You mean our analysis and perceptions and ability to interpret what we’re watching beyond surface level? And honestly after season 4 even surface level melodramas not looking too good- Secondly, what harsh truths were brought up? The lies? Your perception of montauk? which idk sounds a lot like mike and wills relationship to me but to each their own… “they’ve been together since pretty much day one”, “they have a deep connection”, “four seasons of character development”?? Do I even need to explain? Who’s been together since day one? Right mike and will, in the beginning of episode 1 before any of the upside down shit even happens we’re shown that their relationship is different from their relationship with the other party members. A fact that’s proven time and time again throughout season 1 where we see how much more Mike is affected by Will’s disappearance(not tryna negate everybody else’s feelings or reactions but it’s clear that we’re supposed to notice Mike cares slightly more or in a different way). As for the deep connections? Season 2 shed scene ring a bell, the first one of Mike’s monologue that’s an attempt to help someone he cares about that actually works and is completely honest, deep connection boom. And that connections emphasized again in s4 with Will being able to encourage Mike and make him feel better and we already know why it’s special on Will’s side and their whole plot-line that season. Next, “four seasons of character development” im sorry what?, season 1 and season 3 maybe are the only seasons I’d consider they had that meanwhile season 4 I’d say they had character regression because tell me how Mike goes from being able to comfort El about her feeling like she’s a monster but then does a 180 not only unable to comfort her but also make her feel worse-(I’m talking about she didn’t look fine in case you didn’t catch that). Back to s1/s3, s1 where they were friends for the most part is the healthiest their relationship has ever been the entire show- like😭😭it literally just goes downhill from there. Season 2/season 3 their codependency I’m- and season 4 El feeling like she has to lie to Mike about her life and Mike unable to comfort her and also hiding his own interests from her. Like sure the bullying thing I get why she’d hide that maybe not really but El lies about so many things😭😭 she feels like she has to lie to keep up the relationship. THAT 👏 IS 👏 NOT 👏 HEALTHY 👏. Like maybe after they’ve both grown separately I’d consider it but as of now? No sir. Also let me remind you how El confronted Angela and asked her to help El keep up the pretence- SHE STILL DIDN’T FEEL SAFE OR COMFORTABLE ENOUGH TELL MIKE THE TRUTH. That’s not healthy for either of them. My byler agenda aside I still don’t think Mike and El should be together. Lastly, “the fact that Mileven IS endgame”, again I’m sorry what? Have you watched season 5? Have you read the scripts or been on set or talked to anybody working on st5 or work on st5 yourself? No? So then how is that a fact- it’s a prediction, an assumption but it’s not a fact. If after season 5 comes out and it did end up becoming true then you could use that phrase but as of now when you have no idea how season 5 is gonna go you can’t call that a fact. Also rip how are you so confident when Mike and Will are literally attached at the hip so far from what we have seen besides the rooftop convo and if that is enough to convince you then yikes- bc we’ve got like 10 of those to convince us so good luck watching season 5 and have a good day ig

[listentoace]

Hey, I wanted to address a couple of things.

I have been receiving several asks regarding some of my recent posts. I admit they are darker than the usual stuff. That was a decision I consciously made, because I do tend to have darker fantasies and wanted to see how they would be received. I consider most of the criticism I received to be valid points. Here are a few of them:

The whole idea of "ruining yourself"/"ruining your body" as you're gaining weight can be found fatphobic

Connecting feederism to habitual behavior, addiction, loss of control, and even brain damage can be found scary or even disturbing

Encouraging people to embrace health issues (both physical and mental) because of feederism can be found toxic

Constantly connecting feederism and weight gain with the negative side effects (sluggishness and laziness, health issues, societal judgement, etc.) can lead to the conclusion that feederism, obesity, indulgence, etc. are generally bad things

I won't try to defend myself. In fact, I completely agree with (most) criticism I received. The only kind of "criticism" I don't recognize are attacks toward me personally, but that's just reflected in a minority of the asks I receive. To all people who have sent me asks: it's great that you're sharing your opinion and thoughts, and I encourage you to keep doing so!

I think it is necessary to mention again that I don't mean anyone any harm. I am not fatphobic, and I do not mean to force any kinks upon anyone. This is just me writing and recording some horny ideas I occasionally have for those people who are into the same stuff. It is also very important to mention that in many cases, the fantasy of something can be very hot, while the reality of it could be very stressful and traumatizing. This is especially the case with more intense fantasies and kinks, e.g., being kidnapped and fattened. Everything I write takes place in "fantasy land". Nothing I post is meant as a threat, actual encouragement for dangerous behavior or self harm, or other harmful behavior. Pleae keep this in mind!

Getting back to the criticism: Yes, I like the dark stuff. I am very intrigued by the idea of feedees getting fatter for pleasure, despite all the negative consequences that can come with weight gain and obesity. I also enjoy calling people out for it, both with mild teasing and with very direct "you're damaging yourself" claims. I know that this is not everybody's cup of tea, which is why I already tag all posts with darker topics related to self-destruction, severe health issues, permanent damage and even death with "#death feederism" and "#death feedist". This is also mentioned in my pinned info post under "My Content", encouraging people to hide these tags who are not into certain content I post. However, it is quite clear that this isn't a great solution – otherwise I would not be receiving these asks.

I am very open to solving this issue together. After all, it always has been my personal ambition to write and record content for your enjoyment and pleasure. I want to make you – the readers and listeners – feel good and excited. I don't mean to scare or disturb you with my darker fantasies and kinks that don't appeal to you. Nonetheless, I do enjoy causing "holy shit, this is really bad, but it just feels so good!" pleasure and horniness.

In the past, I occasionally made use of trigger warnings at the top of my posts. If I recall correctly, I did hide the main content behind the "Keep reading" button. This was not consistent, but I am open to generally implementing this for all future posts that include sensitive subjects, such as death feederism, consensual non-consent, heavy conditioning and brain damage, or severe degradation and objectification.

However, before I do that, I first wanted to recognize the asks I received and open the conversation by addressing these issues. I encourage you to share your thoughts on this with me in the comments, asks, or my dms. Please let me know whether you think the combination of a trigger warning and a "Keep reading" button is sufficient and reasonable. I will still be tagging my posts accordingly, like I've done in the past, so filtering through hiding certain hashtags will remain an option either way.

I'm looking forward to your feedback and ideas, thank you for the criticism! :)

[vilapollo-arts]

keeping him awake

pairing: Xavier x gn!reader

tags: mdni, established consent, s*mno, blowjob, Xavier calls you pretty, creampie, not beta read/edited

You’re lucky that your shift has already ended early for the day. The sun had already begun to set so you immediately stopped by the grocery store to buy some ingredients. You decided to also stock up your pantry since someone has been sneaking into your apartment and get their grubby hands on your snacks.

“I should probably also cook for him,” you mumble to yourself. “I bet that man just slept all day.”

After paying for your items, you immediately get home and start cooking up a simple dinner. You’ve been eating take outs for the past week so you decided that today is the day you finally get to eat a home cooked meal. While cooking, you send Xavier a quick message that you’re currently cooking dinner.

He immediately responds back, to your surprise, “I cant wait. Im just about to hop into the shower”

As soon as you read that last sentence, you bit your lower lip, imagining your boyfriend naked and steamy from the shower. You feel the heat in between your legs growing the more you think about getting in bed with him.

Both of you have been so busy with your missions that it's been a while since you've slept in the same bed. You miss the way his voice whispers your name. You miss his warmth. You miss him.

Your phone dings once again, interrupting your thoughts. “I missed U. I cant wait to have U all for myself tonight”

This dinner couldn’t cook itself any faster, huh?

You send a reply back, “I’ll just finish up our dinner and head over to your apartment right away.”

You return your full attention back to the dinner you were making, which is a completely difficult task, considering how uncomfortable your underwear is getting already.

Once you’re done cooking, you decide to also take a shower while it cools down for a bit. When you’re done, you transfer the food to another container before heading to Xavier’s apartment. You decide to just use your own key to the apartment to let yourself in.

The lights in the kitchen and the living room are both on. Even the fan was on in the living room.

“Xavier?” you call out as you head into the kitchen.

There’s no answer.

You set the bowl down on the island before heading into the living room. You turn off the fan. He’s not here either. You decide to head towards his bedroom. Before entering, you knock lightly. The only response you get is the light snores coming from the other side of the door.

You decide to let yourself in. As soon as you open the door, you see him lying on his bed with nothing but his boxers on. His sweater and sweatpants are right beside him. You’re guessing that this man was in the middle of putting on clothes when he fell asleep. But that thought is immediately abandoned when your eyes travel down his body.

His boxers are bulging. It’s as if it’s gonna be ripped at any second from how hard his cock is. Even some of his precum is leaking through the cloth.

You swallow as you slowly approach Xavier's figure on the bed. You bend down and slip a finger under the garter. You pull it down, which is a bit of a hard task with how his cock is straining the boxers. His cock slaps against his stomach as soon as you get his boxers down to his knees.

The breath shivers as you become painfully sore down there, impatient of what's to come. You kneel on the floor and take his long shaft in your hands before starting to stroke it slowly. You collect your saliva on your tongue and spit it on the head of his cock. You spread the mixture of your spit and his precum all the way down to the base of his cock. You pull his boxers down completely and discard it behind you before putting your attention back to his cock.

It’s so hard and the tip is almost like an angry red. The thought of his cum exploding inside you while you’re riding him while he’s fast asleep almost makes you cum as you press your lips on the tip. It twitches in your hand as your lips start to slowly envelop his girth. His scent and taste consumes your senses. While the pain in between your legs keeps growing, you want to feel his cock in your mouth first. You want to hear him moan while you facefuck yourself onto his cock while he’s asleep. You need to know that you can pleasure the man with your mouth alone even in his sleep.

Suddenly, you hear Xavier groan. Your eyes flick to the expression on his face to see whether he’s awake. His eyes are still closed but his lips are now parted, taking in heavy breaths. This alone urges you on to further push his cock into your mouth. The more his cock gets pushed down your throat, the more heavy his breaths become. Soon enough, your lips touch the base of his cock.

You move your tongue around, reaching for his balls, massaging them with the tip of your tongue while his whole cock twitches in your throat. You let out a small moan as you pull your head back, feeling every vein of his cock against your lips and tasting every drop of his precum on your tongue. As soon as your lips reach the head of his cock, you immediately push it back down your throat. Putting your hands on his thighs, you start bobbing your head up and down on his length.

Xavier’s heavy breathing is followed by small moans. You can see how his abdominal muscles are tensing, but he remains asleep. This does nothing but urge you even more. However, his hips suddenly jolt upward, catching you off guard as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. Your nails suddenly dig into his skin as you resist the urge to gag loudly. Tears immediately formed in your eyes. You slowly pull away.

You gasp as soon as his cock pops out of your mouth, spit coating your lips and chin. You wipe your lips and chin as you stand up. You slip out of your shorts and underwear before carefully crawling on top of Xavier. You look down on his face. His brows are slightly furrowed, but as you press your palms on his chest, his breath is even. After confirming that he’s still asleep, you grind down on his cock. You move your hips back and forth. Your own arousal coats his shaft.

You take his cock behind you as you lift your hips. You line his cock to your entrance and start to sink down on his length. You bite down on your lower lip, your head hanging backwards. You stifle a pained moan as his cock continues to slowly split your insides in half. Xavier stirs beneath you. You can feel his chest start to expand and contract a little faster as the tightness of your hole envelops the entirety of his cock.

“Fuck,” you sigh as you bury your face on his neck.

You immediately start moving your hips up and down. Your breathing began matching Xavier’s heavy breathing as well. The feeling of his cock being pushed back up into you is making it harder for you to stifle your moans. Despite that, you don’t slow down. You even bounce your hips faster, trying to find that spot inside you that Xavier always somehow manages to abuse whenever he fucks you brains out. You whine in frustration as you increase your pace. Feeling his cock inside you feels amazing, but something’s still missing that could bring you to the edge.

All of a sudden, your movements were halted by two big hands on your hips, keeping you in place. Below you, Xavier slams his hips upwards into you. And that particular spot you've been searching for earlier is now being pounded against with his hard cock.

“You're so tight, my love,” you heard Xavier's lust-filled voice say in a raspy voice.

The voices you've been holding back for a while now fills up the entire room. He adjusts himself below you, planting his feet on the bed and slamming his cock up into your tight hole. His thrusts are fast but deep, making sure to hit that sensitive spot inside of you over and over.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head while drool trickles down Xavier's neck.

Xavier curses underneath his breath. “Waking up to you bouncing on my dick,” he chuckles. “You couldn't wait for me to wake up, huh?”

He slaps your asscheek before rolling so you are now the one under him. He doesn't even take a moment before placing your legs over your shoulders and pinning your hands on both sides of your head before he starts fucking you deeper.

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” he whispers, leaning down to press his lips on your forehead without breaking his pace.

You don't even realize that drops of tears have rolled down your cheeks. The contrast between his soft kiss and the roughness of his thrusts easily sends your whole body into orgasm.

“Oh fuck, Xavier!!” you cry out as Xavier buries his cock deep inside you. You can feel his hot and thick cum coat your insides.

Xavier buries his face into your neck and wraps his arms around your shaking body. You can feel every twitch of his cock inside you, making you shudder. The both of you lay there, bathing in the moonlight. He strokes your hair while whispering sweet praises into your ear.

“Such a good bunny.”

“It’s okay. I'm here.”

“You make me feel so good, my love.”

His other words blend in together as your eyes become tired. You suddenly feel that rush of tiredness enveloping your entire body. Xavier seems to notice this and tries to pull out to let you rest. However, you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Stay here,” you mumble.

Xavier chuckles. “Alright,” he whispers. “Let’s sleep like this.”

He adjusts himself on top of you so he’s not entirely pushing his whole weight on top of you. He knows how much having his weight on top of you comforts you. He doesn't know why but he complies anyway. He smiles as he looks down at your face.

“Sometimes, I can't believe such face can make the most sinful acts,” he mumbles, wiping off the tears that are still in your lashes.

He carefully takes the blanket and partially covers the both of you. With him still inside of you, the both of you fall asleep in each others’ warmth.

a/n: It's been a while since I've written a fic, but I hope you guys enjoyed it!! Requests are open so feel free to hop into my inbox!

Honestly, I wanted to publish 3 fics this week but I guess I overestimated myself because I felt rusty ;u; Still, I guess I can blame it on the illustration that I made because I wanted to publish a fic with an original fanart of mine.

Unfortunately, tumblr is having none of it and flagged my first post with the whole illustration. So if you guys are interested to see the full illustration, I posted it on my twitter account which is @/vilapollo_arts.

I do also have an uncensored version of the illustration. I haven't posted it yet since I wanted to post it once I reach my goal of 100 followers!! So, please help me reach my goal and consider checking out my twitter account. I do also have a Sylus fanart in the making which I will also be posting an nsfw version if I do reach that goal 😉

Thank you so much for reading!!

[tamberrio]

Chat am I cooking

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 71: shy

[spicyraeman]

Was tagged by @katsigian to do this cute lil couples picrew, thank you for the tag <3

✧.* Virranan x Shadowheart

✧.* Wyll Ravengard x Treble

✧.* Rûngrim x Gale Dekarios

[aheathen-conceivably]

STATISTICAL  CHARACTER  PERSONALITY TEST.   take  the  quiz  from  the  perspective  of  your  character,  then  select  5 - 10  results  from  the  complete  matches  list  that  you  feel  resonate  with  your  character  the  most (I selected the highest match and three more from the top ten)…

Zelda Darlington

Cue your wide eyed protagonist with a tendency to ignore everything around her in favor of getting lost in her own mind. Bonus points for an added dash of innocence, preoccupation with love, and the seemingly unexplainable ability to charm everyone around her despite how utterly distracted by her own thoughts she always seems to be.

Antoine Duplanchier

Did someone order a too-moody-for his-own-good I can fix him love interest? Does he have a tragic backstory and a penchant for withholding his emotions until he explodes on those he loves most? But then he professes his loyalty with grand gestures and declarations of eternal love? Well do I have the story for you…

Josephine Duplanchier

Does your wide eyed protagonist need a bitchy sidekick? Does she have a penchant for manipulating everyone around her but the audience can't help but love her anyway? One thing is for sure, someone’s heart is getting broken, and she’s going to make damn sure it isn’t her own.

Giorgio Mistretta

The internet has officially decreed that Giorgio is the fuck-boy love interest who's too attractive for his own good. Meanwhile his girlfriend bosses him around and he swears he doesn’t like it, even though it’s pretty obvious he does. He has a habit of making really stupid choices; but he did it all for love, right? Right?!

(I was tagged by @citylighten -thanks boo!- and in turn tag @thebramblewood @elderberries-and-honey @antiquatedplumbobs and @surely-sims plus anyone else who wants to!)

[chirpsythismorning]

This specific frame reminded me of something…

For those who still can’t see it, allow me to elaborate.

[underdark-dreams]

🖤 WIP Whenever 🖤

Tagged by @commander-krios and @dutifullylazybread! Thank you both! No-obligation tags for your fic or art WIPs: @rolansrighthorn, @faerunsbest, @swordcreature

I thought I'd share more from my in-progress Rolan rut fic, Birds and Bees. It started as a one-shot and is now drafted out at 3 chapters (oops!)

(Featuring a new Tav! She's a ranger who swings by Sorcerous Sundries to do her alchemy when she's in the city, and attempts to flirt with the oblivious wizard in her free time)

A laugh came from behind his back. “Do you mind?”

Rolan turned to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her makeshift alchemy station with eyebrows raised. To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and playfully dropped the appendage off the edge of her work desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees nearly buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself. 

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him as she ground something in her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“I need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.