#hi babes heres some melancholy! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

songbirdseung · 30 days

Text

young love 2 / nishimura riki

read part one here 🤍

synopsis: she fell first but he fell harder type of scenario. ANGTSY

warnings: jealously, one sexual innuendo and suggestive part with hoon (but no smut) btw this takes place in college time

wc: 6.6k

"hey, you've been avoiding me all day. Is everything alright, babe?" Mina settled down beside Riki, who sat lost in thought, facing the beach. Unaware of her presence, he was entirely focused on the crashing waves, the chilly breeze, and the swirling thoughts in his mind. "Riki?" She called out again, giving him a gentle nudge. Finally snapping out of his trance, he turned to his girlfriend, apologizing and asking her to repeat what she had said. "Are we okay? Or more importantly, are you okay?" She remained oblivious to Riki's growing feelings for YN, unable to connect the dots. However, Riki knew he couldn't break her heart with such information, especially during what was supposed to be a joyful trip. So, he concocted a white lie, reassuring her that he would be fine.

mina studied riki's expression, a hint of concern lingering in her eyes as she waited for his response. riki forced a smile, masking the turmoil churning within him as he reassured her with a nod.

"yeah, babe, everything's fine," he replied, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions raging beneath the surface. "just got lost in my thoughts for a moment there, but i'm okay now."

mina's features softened with relief, a smile gracing her lips as she reached out to squeeze his hand gently. "okay, just making sure," she said, her voice warm with affection. "you know i'm here for you if you ever need to talk, right?"

riki's heart swelled with gratitude for mina's unwavering support, but a pang of guilt tugged at his conscience as he realized the depth of the lie he had just told her. he knew he couldn't burden her with the truth, not when it threatened to unravel the delicate balance of their relationship.

"yeah, i know," riki replied, forcing himself to meet mina's gaze with a reassuring smile. "thanks, babe. i really appreciate it."

with a sense of unease lingering in the back of his mind, riki pushed aside his inner turmoil, determined to make the most of their time at the beach and protect mina's heart at all costs. but beneath the facade of calm, the storm of conflicting emotions continued to rage, leaving riki adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

unbeknownst to them, you sat a few feet away, nestled in one of the beach chairs, solitary. Your sole desire was to relish the view while immersing yourself in music until Mina settled beside Riki. You couldn't deny the effect they had on you anymore, though a small part of her still pondered the possibilities of what could have been. But now you had Sunghoon—shouldn't that be enough to make you happy?

"jeez, yn, you're such a dunce," you muttered to yourself, your voice barely audible. you removed your earphones and shut your eyes tightly, attempting to divert your thoughts from what might have been. "well, maybe not entirely stupid… okay, sometimes," sunoo's voice interrupted from behind, causing you to jump slightly. he chuckled at your startled reaction before settling down next to you, inquiring about the whereabouts of your significant other. you gestured in the direction where sunghoon, jake, and a few strangers were engaged in a game of beach volleyball. "so, why are you sitting here alone? and conveniently positioned just a few feet away from riki and mina?" sunoo probed further.

you shrugged, offering a weak smile to sunoo. "just needed some time alone, i guess," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "and as for the seating arrangement, pure coincidence, i assure you."

sunoo raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical yet understanding. "right, coincidence," he echoed, a playful glint in his eyes.

sunoo's smile gradually faded into a serious expression as he fixed his gaze on you. "don't tell me you still have feelings for him, yn. i thought we were past that," he remarked, his tone tinged with concern.

you shook your head and let out a sigh, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. "it's not like i have feelings for him, i don't," you clarified, but then added, "but you can't blame me for occasionally wondering about the alternative possibilities or outcomes that could have been, sunoo."

deep down, all you truly desired now was sunghoon. you loved him dearly, but riki, your first young love, remained a lingering presence in your thoughts, a part of your past that refused to fade away.

"i get that, but instead of being so dramatic—" sunoo began, but you cut him off with a playful jab. "as if you're not dramatic as fuck, you're the drama queen in this friend group," you teased, earning a chuckle from sunoo as he playfully slapped your arm.

"shut up and listen," sunoo continued, his tone more serious now. "stop dwelling on the past. stop thinking about those things and start focusing on the future. a future where you find peace of mind, whether you're in a relationship or not."

he flicked your forehead lightly, a playful gesture before offering you the chance to join jake and sunghoon in a game. with a nod, you accepted his invitation, grateful for his words of wisdom and the distraction of spending time with your friends.

that's precisely what you ended up doing, making your way over to sunghoon's team with a gentle nudge from sunoo, who seemed determined to reunite you with your beau. as you joined their side, sunghoon greeted you with a sweet kiss on the forehead, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

"why's your forehead all red, baby?" sunghoon inquired with a playful grin, prompting you to sheepishly recount sunoo's teasing antics. your boyfriend chuckled at the anecdote, releasing you to join the game.

"get a room, damn!" jake's voice rang out from the opposite side of the net, his playful jab accompanied by a smirk. "ready to lose, yn?" he taunted, a competitive glint in his eye as he prepared for the match.

you chuckled at jake's playful taunt, feeling the familiar rush of competitiveness coursing through you. "lose? not a chance, jake!" you retorted, matching his competitive energy with a grin of your own.

with the game about to begin, you took your position on the court, feeling the warm sand beneath your feet and the anticipation building in the air. sunghoon flashed you an encouraging smile before the match started, his unwavering support giving you an extra boost of confidence.

as the game progressed, laughter and friendly banter filled the air, each point won or lost accompanied by cheers and groans from both teams. despite jake's confident taunts, your team managed to hold your own, each player contributing their skills and teamwork to keep the game tight.

in the end, it was a close match, with both teams giving it their all until the very last point. but as the final point was scored, your team emerged victorious, erupting into cheers and high-fives as you celebrated your hard-fought win.

"another round? maybe with riki this time?" sunghoon suggests, glancing behind at the couple. everyone nods and calls riki over, along with mina.

"oh, come on, riki! join us, it'll be fun," jake calls out, waving riki over with a grin.

riki hesitates for a moment, exchanging a glance with mina before standing up and making his way to the group. mina follows closely behind, a slight frown creasing her brow.

as riki joins the circle, the atmosphere shifts slightly, a subtle tension hanging in the air. you can't help but notice the awkwardness between riki and mina, wondering if anyone else has picked up on it.

as the game begins, you can't help but feel the weight of the unresolved tension lingering in the air. every interaction between riki and mina seems strained, their once easy rapport now marred by unspoken words and lingering doubts.

despite your efforts to focus on the game, your mind keeps drifting back to the uncomfortable situation unfolding before you. it's clear that something is amiss, but no one seems willing to address the elephant in the room.

as the game progresses, you can't shake the feeling that this outing, meant to be a fun-filled day at the beach, has taken an unexpected turn. and with each passing moment, the tension threatens to unravel the fragile bonds that hold your friend group together.

in the midst of the game, your attention scattered, you fail to notice the volleyball hurtling towards you. suddenly, both sunghoon and riki spring into action, moving at lightning speed to shield you from the incoming ball. sunghoon reaches you first, his arms wrapping around your waist protectively as he checks if you're alright.

"are you okay, yn?" he asks, concern etched into his features as he holds you close.

you nod, reassured by sunghoon's presence, but your gaze flickers to riki, who stands nearby with a nonchalant expression. despite sunghoon's awareness of riki's proximity, he brushes it off, focusing solely on ensuring your safety.

"thanks, sunghoon," you murmur gratefully, offering him a small smile.

meanwhile, riki rolls his eyes at the scene, a hint of annoyance flashing across his face before he turns away, seemingly unbothered.

as the game comes to an abrupt end, jake takes the initiative to diffuse the tension, suggesting that it's time for dinner despite the sun still hanging high in the sky. his words break the awkward atmosphere, prompting everyone to agree with a collective sigh of relief.

"yeah, let's call it a day," sunghoon chimes in, shooting a reassuring glance at you.

as the group begins to disperse, mina's gaze lingers on riki, her brow furrowing with realization. it dawns on her that riki's peculiar behavior may be more than just casual indifference — perhaps, deep down, he harbors feelings for you.

"you like her, don't you?" mina's voice cuts through the tension, her words hanging heavy in the air as everyone turns to look at riki.

riki freezes, caught off guard by mina's direct question. his cheeks flush slightly as he meets her gaze, unable to form a coherent response in front of everyone.

the atmosphere grows uncomfortably silent as the weight of mina's words sinks in, casting a shadow over the group. you exchange a glance with sunghoon, both of you unsure of how to navigate the sudden awkwardness that has enveloped the once cheerful gathering.

in yuna's room, the tension from the beach outing still lingered in the air like a heavy fog. yuna paced back and forth, her frustration evident in every movement.

"she's so dumb, why would she say that with everyone there?! she could've just talked to him in private, gosh, i knew i never liked her," yuna exclaimed, her voice laced with anger and disbelief.

you reached out to your best friend, trying to soothe her frayed nerves. "hey, maybe she was just in shock, in realization, yun. calm down," you urged gently, hoping to diffuse the situation before it escalated further.

yuna huffed, her agitation not yet subsiding. "but still, it's such a personal thing to bring up in front of everyone. poor riki must feel so embarrassed," she lamented, sinking onto her bed with a frustrated sigh.

you nodded in understanding, sitting down beside her. "i get it, it wasn't the most tactful move on mina's part. maybe she just didn't think before speaking," you suggested, trying to offer a different perspective.

yuna sighed, running a hand through her hair. "i just hate seeing riki like this. it's obvious he's struggling with his feelings, and mina's comment probably didn't help," she said, her voice softer now, filled with concern for her friend.

"i know, but maybe this will be a wake-up call for him to confront his feelings," you offered, trying to find a silver lining in the situation.

yuna nodded, her expression thoughtful. "you might be right. i just hope things don't get even more awkward between them," she said, casting a worried glance towards the door as if expecting riki or mina to walk in at any moment.

yuna suggests that you talk to riki, to make him realize that it's too late now and he needs to get over these feelings he developed for you.

you consider her suggestion carefully, knowing that it might not be an easy conversation to have. but you also understand the importance of addressing the situation before it becomes even more complicated.

"yeah, maybe you're right. i'll talk to him," you agree, steeling yourself for the inevitable awkwardness that lies ahead.

yuna gives you a supportive smile, grateful for your willingness to help. "i know it won't be easy, but i think it's for the best. riki needs to understand that life moves on, and dwelling on what could have been will only hold him back," she says, her tone hopeful yet firm.

with yuna's encouragement, you resolve to have the difficult conversation with riki, hoping that it will help him find closure and move forward.

after discussing, you decide that it might be best to give riki some time to process everything before broaching the subject with him.

"i think you're right, yuna. i'll give riki some space for now," you say, nodding in agreement with your friend.

yuna nods in understanding, appreciating your decision. "that sounds like a good plan. let him come to terms with everything on his own terms," she says, her tone thoughtful.

with a shared understanding, you and yuna leave the conversation at that, knowing that confronting riki about his feelings is a delicate matter that requires careful consideration and timing. for now, all you can do is wait and hope that he finds the clarity he needs to move forward.

after a while, yuna decides it's time for you to head back to your shared room with sunghoon. as she closes the door behind you, she can't resist making a few suggestive jokes.

"alright, lovebirds, time for some alone time," yuna teases, winking mischievously as she sends you off.

you chuckle at her playful banter, shaking your head as you walk towards your room where sunghoon is waiting for you, already out the door. just before you reach him, yuna calls out one last joke.

"remember to keep it pg-13, we don't want to hear any wild noises," she adds with a laugh, causing you to blush and sunghoon to raise an eyebrow in amusement.

you enter the room, trying to stifle your laughter from yuna's playful remarks. sunghoon looks at you with a bemused expression, clearly curious about what transpired outside.

"what was that all about?" sunghoon asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he approaches you.

you shake your head, still grinning at yuna's antics. "oh, just yuna being her usual cheeky self," you reply, trying to downplay the situation.

sunghoon chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. "well, now that we have some privacy, what do you say we make the most of it?" he suggests, his voice low and suggestive as he leans in closer.

you feel a rush of excitement at his words, your cheeks flushing with anticipation. as you lean in to kiss him, you can't help but be grateful for the playful banter that brought you both closer together.

the next morning, you feel a gentle nudge as sunghoon wakes you up, his warm smile greeting you as you open your eyes. hovering over you on the bed, he leans in, and you plant a soft kiss on his nose before stretching lazily.

"good morning, sleepyhead," sunghoon says affectionately, his eyes sparkling with fondness.

you return his smile and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. sunghoon gives you a quick peck on the cheek before getting up to let you get ready.

downstairs in the kitchen, you find riki sitting with sunoo and jungwon, engaged in a lively conversation. you offer them a warm greeting as you join them, feeling the pleasant buzz of morning chatter fill the room.

"good morning, everyone," you say cheerfully, exchanging smiles with the group.

while you're carefully arranging sunghoon's cereal with fruits, jake shuffles into the kitchen, his eyes still heavy with sleep. spotting you, he does a double-take and then lets out a surprised gasp.

"whoa, what's that on your neck?" jake asks, his voice laced with sleepy confusion.

you freeze in your tracks, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realize what he's referring to. jungwon stifles a laugh at jake's sleepy shock, while sunoo and sunghoon exchange surprised glances.

riki, sitting nearby, seems to pretend not to notice, focusing intently on his breakfast.

you meet riki's gaze briefly, a pang of guilt washing over you as you remember your plan to talk to him soon.

sunghoon, catching on to the situation, jokingly scolds jake. "hey, jake, mind your own business!" he says with a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood.

amidst the light-hearted banter, sunghoon shoots you a knowing look, silently asking if you're okay. you offer him a reassuring smile, silently thanking him for his understanding.

jake, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, seems to realize the awkwardness of his comment. "oops, sorry, didn't mean to pry," he mumbles sheepishly, retreating slightly.

you nod, grateful for his apology, and continue with your breakfast preparations, trying to shake off the embarrassment. sunghoon steps in to help, smoothly diverting the conversation to a more neutral topic.

as the atmosphere in the kitchen lightens, you exchange a glance with riki once more, silently acknowledging the impending conversation that hangs between you.

with breakfast finally ready, everyone gathers around the table, the earlier awkwardness dissipating into the background as laughter and chatter fill the air.

after breakfast, you and sunghoon take on the role of "parents" of the group, tackling the dishes together as the others relax or continue with their morning routines. the warm water and soapy suds provide a soothing backdrop as you work side by side, the clinking of dishes filling the air.

as you scrub away at a stubborn stain, sunghoon glances at you, a serious expression crossing his face. "hey, yn, now might be a good time to talk to riki," he says gently, his voice barely above a whisper over the sound of running water.

you pause, considering his words, knowing that sunghoon is right. it's better to address the situation sooner rather than later, especially before any more awkwardness arises.

nodding in agreement, you steel yourself for the conversation ahead, grateful for sunghoon's support and understanding. with a shared determination, you and sunghoon finish up the dishes and then make your way to find riki, ready to finally have the difficult but necessary conversation.

riki was alone, engrossed in a video game when you approached him, quietly taking a seat beside him. his fingers paused on the controller, and you could sense the tension radiating from him as you spoke up.

"hey, riki… can we talk?" you ask softly, your voice carrying a mixture of concern and determination.

riki's eyes flicker with uncertainty as he turns to look at you, his expression guarded. he hesitates for a moment, clearly apprehensive about what the conversation might entail.

"yeah, sure," he replies, his voice slightly shaky as he sets the controller down and turns his full attention to you.

as you and riki sit together, the weight of the impending conversation hangs heavily in the air. you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the difficult words you know you need to say.

"riki, i… i need to talk to you about something," you begin, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. "i'm sorry… i know you have feelings for me, but… i don't feel the same way anymore."

riki's expression falls, his shoulders slumping as your words sink in. "i… i understand," he replies softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "i'm sorry, yn. i should've realized my feelings for you sooner… i regret rejecting you before."

you shake your head, feeling a pang of sadness at the pain in riki's eyes. "it's not your fault, riki," you say gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "we were just meant to be friends… childhood friends who grew apart romantically."

riki nods, his gaze dropping to his lap as he struggles to find the right words. "i should've tried harder… i should've fought for us," he murmurs, his voice thick with regret.

you offer him a sympathetic smile, squeezing his shoulder gently. "it's okay, riki," you assure him. "we both made mistakes… but we can't change the past. we need to focus on the relationships we have now, separately."

riki nods again, a sense of acceptance settling over him as he looks up to meet your gaze. "yeah… you're right," he says quietly. "i'm sorry for everything, yn."

you nod in return, a weight lifting off your shoulders as you both come to terms with the situation. despite the sadness of the moment, there's a sense of closure in knowing that you can move forward as friends, each on your own path towards happiness.

as they finish talking and discussing the future of their friendship, they share a heartfelt hug, a silent understanding passing between them. just as they begin to pull away, mina walks into the room, her expression apologetic.

"hey, sorry to interrupt," mina says softly, her eyes filled with sincerity. "i just wanted to say that i didn't mean to cause any awkwardness yesterday. my intentions were genuine, i promise."

riki and you exchange a glance, a flicker of relief passing between you at mina's words. "it's okay, mina," you say with a warm smile, genuinely touched by her sincerity. "we understand."

riki nods in agreement, his expression softening as he looks at mina. "yeah, we know you didn't mean any harm," he says, his voice filled with reassurance.

mina lets out a relieved sigh, a weight lifting off her shoulders as she smiles gratefully at her friends. "thank you for understanding," she says, her voice tinged with relief. "i'm really glad we can move past this."

with a sense of resolution in the air, the three friends share a brief but meaningful moment of understanding, each grateful for the bond of friendship that binds them together.

as they wandered through the bustling streets, the group took in the sights and sounds of the city, their laughter echoing off the walls as they recounted funny stories and shared inside jokes.

"hey, jungwon, are you sure we're going the right way?" sunghoon teased, earning a playful shove from jungwon.

"of course i am! i've got a great sense of direction," jungwon retorted with a grin.

sunoo jumped in with his signature humor, "yeah, if by 'great sense of direction' you mean getting lost every five minutes!"

the group erupted into laughter, with yuna adding, "well, at least we'll have an adventure!"

riki, who had been quiet earlier, chuckled softly, finally joining in on the fun. "yeah, who needs a map when you've got jungwon?"

jake, always quick with a witty remark, quipped, "yeah, he's our own personal compass, leading us in circles!"

the banter continued as they strolled through the colorful streets, each joke and comment bringing them closer together. despite the occasional wrong turn and detour, they knew that as long as they were together, every moment would be an adventure.

reaching a park with various attractions and things to do, you spotted something that reminded you of your childhood. with a grin, you grabbed riki's arm and pulled him over to take a look.

"hey, remember this?" you said, pointing excitedly at the familiar sight.

riki's eyes lit up with recognition, and he chuckled as memories of your childhood flooded back. "yeah, i remember. you were terrible at this game," he teased, nudging you playfully.

you rolled your eyes, laughing along with him. "hey, i wasn't that bad! besides, i bet i can beat you now," you challenged, a competitive glint in your eye.

riki smirked, accepting the challenge. "oh, it's on," he declared, leading the way to the game booth with a playful grin. as you both stepped up to the challenge, the friendly rivalry between you reignited, sparking laughter and camaraderie as you competed against each other just like old times.

next, the group dispersed into two teams, with you and riki finding yourselves on opposing sides. as the game began, the competitive spirit ignited once again, with each team determined to come out on top.

with laughter and friendly banter filling the air, the group watched eagerly, cheering on their respective teammates and teasing each other mercilessly at every missed shot or fumbled move. sunghoon's infectious laughter echoed through the park as he cheered you on, while jake couldn't resist poking fun at riki whenever he made a mistake.

later, the group found themselves deciding what to eat, so they headed to the mall, hoping to satisfy their hunger with a variety of options. However, their plans hit a snag as they found themselves once again getting lost, courtesy of Jungwon's questionable sense of direction.

"Jungwon, are you sure we're going the right way?" Sunghoon asked with a chuckle, glancing around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Jungwon scratched his head sheepishly. "Uh, well, I thought so, but maybe not," he admitted, his expression sheepish.

Sunoo couldn't resist chiming in with a grin, "Looks like we're taking the scenic route again!"

Yuna laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe we should invest in a GPS for Jungwon," she joked.

next, they reached the mall, and as they waited for everyone to order at the diner, sunghoon and riki found themselves drawn to the claw machines and booths in the retro-designed diner. amidst the flashing lights and nostalgic ambiance, they shared a quiet, one-on-one conversation.

sunghoon leaned against the claw machine, his gaze thoughtful as he spoke. "hey, riki, i just wanted to say that there's no bad blood between us, you know?"

riki glanced up, surprised by sunghoon's sincerity. "yeah, i know. i appreciate that," he replied, a hint of gratitude in his voice.

sunghoon continued, his tone gentle. "i know things might be a bit awkward because of… well, you know," he gestured vaguely, referring to riki's feelings for yn.

riki nodded, understanding. "yeah, i get it. but i want you to know that i'm really happy for you and yn. you guys deserve each other."

sunghoon smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "thanks, riki. that means a lot," he said, grateful for riki's understanding.

as they continued to chat, the tension between them eased, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect.

"hey, riki, i get it. it's not easy to just switch off those feelings," sunghoon said sympathetically, placing a reassuring hand on riki's shoulder. "but you've got to try to move forward. you know, there's this saying: 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.'"

riki chuckled weakly, appreciating sunghoon's attempt at lightening the mood. "yeah, i guess you're right. but what if i just can't seem to shake these feelings?"

sunghoon nodded understandingly. "it's tough, i know. but you've got to focus on what's in front of you. mina is a great girl, and she really cares about you. don't waste the chance to get to know her better and appreciate what you have with her."

riki sighed, knowing that sunghoon was right. "yeah, you're right. thanks, sunghoon. i needed to hear that," he admitted gratefully.

sunghoon gave him a supportive smile. "anytime, buddy. just remember, you're not alone in this. we're all here for you." with that, they shared a brief, understanding nod, knowing that even though the road ahead might be tough, they would face it together as friends.

as riki and sunghoon triumphantly emerge from the claw machine area, each clutching a plush toy in their hands, their faces light up with excitement. with a shared grin, they make their way back to the rest of the group, eager to show off their prizes.

"check it out, guys! look what we won!" sunghoon announces proudly, holding up his prize—a penguin with a big, friendly smile.

riki joins in, brandishing his own victory—a cute fluffy baby chick. "and look at this beauty! who's the claw machine champion now?"

jake chuckles, giving them both a playful pat on the back. "yeah, seriously, well done! maybe you should start your own claw machine championship league."

sunghoon beams with pride as he presents you with a cute penguin plush, his eyes sparkling with affection as he watches your delighted reaction.

"here you go, babe," he says softly, placing the plush in your hands. "a little something to remember this day by."

you can't help but smile back at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. "thank you, sunghoon," you reply, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. "i love it."

meanwhile, riki playfully teases mina, pretending to keep a tight grip on the chick plush he won, much to her amusement. "hey, hands off, riki!" she laughs, attempting to wrestle the toy from his grasp.

riki grins mischievously, holding the plush just out of mina's reach. "sorry, babe, but this little guy is mine," he teases, feigning innocence as mina gives him an exaggerated pout.

with a playful roll of her eyes, mina gives riki a gentle shove. "fine, keep it then," she says, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "but you owe me one."

riki chuckles, relenting as he hands over the plush to mina. "of course, anything for you," he replies, leaning in to press a sweet kiss on her forehead.

as the group shares in the lighthearted moment, laughter filling the air, sunghoon wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. you lean into his embrace, feeling grateful for the love and laughter that surrounds you.

as they enjoy their meal, riki leans over to mina with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "hey, mina, what do you say we pretend to propose to each other so we can get free dessert?" he suggests, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

mina stifles a laugh, shaking her head at his antics. "as tempting as that sounds, i don't think i want to get proposed to at a random retro diner," she replies, a hint of amusement in her voice.

sunoo chimes in from across the table, his tone teasing. "yeah, i don't think that's quite the romantic setting you're looking for, mina," he quips, earning a chuckle from the rest of the group.

riki shrugs, still wearing a playful grin. "hey, it was worth a shot, right?" he says with a wink, before digging back into his meal. the group shares a laugh at his antics, enjoying the light-hearted moment as they continue to savor their time together.

sunghoon chuckles at riki's failed attempt, then a mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as an idea forms. "hey, why don't we pretend it's yn's birthday? they'll definitely give us free dessert for that!"

yuna raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "but what if they ask for id? i doubt they'll believe you're turning twenty-one again," she teases, glancing at sunghoon with a playful glimmer in her eyes.

sunghoon laughs, waving off yuna's concern. "don't worry, we'll just tell them we left yn's id back at the beach house," he replies, confidence lacing his voice.

you furrow your brows in confusion as the conversation steers toward the topic of dessert. "what's with you guys and dessert?" you inquire, looking around at the group with a bemused expression.

jungwon grins, leaning back in his chair as he explains, "well, you see, dessert is the best part of any meal. and when it's free, well, it's even sweeter."

mina shrugs, letting out a laugh at your confused expression. "yeah, i mean, who doesn't love free dessert?" she chimes in, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

you can't help but chuckle at their enthusiasm, shaking your head in amusement. "fair enough," you concede, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "i guess i can't argue with that logic."

with everyone on board for the plan, you settle back in your seat, eagerly anticipating the sweet treat that awaits you at the end of the meal. after all, who could say no to free dessert?

as the waiter approaches their table, sunghoon leans in with a mischievous glint in his eye, flashing his most charming smile. "hey, is there any chance we could get some free dessert? it's my girlfriend's birthday today," he says, gesturing towards you with a playful wink.

the waiter's eyes light up with enthusiasm as he nods eagerly. "of course! happy birthday!" he exclaims, offering you a warm smile before dashing off to fetch the dessert.

as the waiter scurries away, the anticipation among the group grows palpable. sunghoon grins at you, excitement dancing in his eyes. "get ready for a sweet surprise, birthday girl," he whispers, his voice laced with excitement.

you can't help but laugh, feeling a mixture of amusement and nervous anticipation. "i can't believe you talked them into this," you reply, shaking your head in disbelief. "this is going to be hilarious."

across the table, yuna and mina exchange knowing glances, stifling giggles behind their hands. "i can't wait to see their faces when the entire diner starts singing," yuna whispers, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

as the minutes tick by, the anticipation mounts, and the group exchanges playful banter and speculation about what kind of dessert the waiter will bring out. finally, the waiter returns, carrying a decadent-looking dessert adorned with a flickering candle.

with a flourish, he sets the dessert down in front of you, offering another cheerful round of "happy birthday" as the entire diner erupts into applause.

on the way home, the group is abuzz with excitement, unable to contain their chatter about the day's silly antics. sunghoon leads the conversation, recounting each hilarious moment with animated gestures and infectious laughter.

"i still can't believe we convinced them it was your birthday," sunghoon chuckles, glancing at you with a playful grin. "that dessert was worth every bit of embarrassment."

yuna nods enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "and the look on everyone's faces when the whole diner started singing! priceless," she adds, shaking her head in fond remembrance.

mina joins in, her laughter echoing through the car. "i never knew free dessert could be so entertaining," she quips, casting a teasing glance at riki, who chuckles in agreement.

as the memories of the day's escapades continue to flow, the car fills with laughter and joy, each member of the group reliving their favorite moments and sharing in the camaraderie of the day. it's moments like these, filled with laughter and friendship, that make even the simplest of outings unforgettable.

a year later, the group gathers once again, this time to celebrate jake and sunghoon's college graduation. amidst the sea of graduation caps and gowns, the friends stand shoulder to shoulder, a testament to the bonds forged through years of shared laughter and unforgettable moments.

as they gather for a group photo, sunghoon pulls you close, his arm wrapped around your waist in a gesture of love and pride. "let's make sure to get a picture with the graduates," he whispers, his voice filled with excitement.

after a while you glance over at jake and sunghoon, who are beaming with pride as they pose for pictures with their families. "they look so happy," you murmur, your heart swelling with pride for your friends' achievements.

sunghoon's gaze softens as he looks at you and walks back to you, his eyes filled with love and admiration. "you'll be up there next year," he says, his voice brimming with confidence. "i can't wait to see you walk across that stage and receive your diploma."

you feel a rush of warmth at his words, grateful for his unwavering support and encouragement. "thank you," you whisper, leaning into his embrace.

as the celebrations continue, the group surrounds jake and sunghoon, showering them with congratulations and well-wishes. amidst the laughter and chatter, sunghoon's voice cuts through the noise, his words filled with hope and anticipation. "and when it's your turn next year, yn," he says, his voice ringing with pride, "i'll be right here, cheering you on every step of the way."

you meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love for the man by your side. with sunghoon's unwavering support and the love of your friends, you know that no challenge is too great, and that together, you can conquer anything that comes your way.

as the camera flashes, capturing the joyous moment with jake and sunghoon, riki sidles up beside you, a playful grin on his face. "can you believe we're next in line for this graduation gig?" he quips, nudging you gently.

you chuckle, enjoying the light-hearted banter with your friend. "i can't wait to see you in that cap and gown," you reply, a teasing glint in your eyes. "just don't trip on stage, okay?"

riki laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "hey, i make no promises," he retorts, playfully nudging you back. "but seriously, it's going to be our turn soon. let's make the most of our last year, yeah?"

you nod in agreement, a sense of excitement bubbling in your chest at the thought of the year ahead. "absolutely," you agree, a smile tugging at your lips. "but no wild parties the night before graduation, okay? we don't want any hungover mishaps on stage."

riki raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "no promises," he says with a smirk, earning a playful shove from you.

as the day draws to a close and the sun begins to dip below the horizon, you find yourself reflecting on the bond you share with riki. through the twists and turns of college life, you've stood by each other's side, weathering storms and celebrating victories together.

sure, there may have been moments of uncertainty and confusion, but at the end of the day, your friendship with riki remains steadfast and true. he's more than just a friend; he's your confidant, your partner in crime, and your platonic soulmate.

as you look ahead to the future, you know that no matter where life takes you, riki will always be there, ready to lend a listening ear, share a laugh, or offer a shoulder to lean on. and as you embrace the warmth of his friendship, you can't help but feel grateful for the countless memories you've shared and the ones yet to come.

with riki by your side, the journey ahead may be filled with twists and turns, but one thing is for certain: as long as you have each other, you'll always find your way.

240 notes · View notes

caxde · 3 months

Text

Labyrinth | Eddie Munson x reader

summary You knew Eddie before it all, the fame and the succes. He knew you before you found fame, as you both reach it, your relationship changes into something new.(6.7k)

this was a rockstar!Eddie request by @sage-glowstick , she wanted a fic inspiered and that featured Silver Springs by fleetwood mac, here we are I hope you like it babe <33

warnings hurt/comfort, miscomunication, friends to lovers, slowburn, eddie being a dumbass, angst!, afab reader but no pronouns used I think

English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there's any mistakes

Hawkins, May, 1986

“You should come tonight” Eddie said, as he handed you a handmade flyer.

You were sitting down on the exit stairs of the Hawkins High School as he stood there, his body between your legs. Always so close, yet far away. You looked down at it, you saw the scribbled out Corroded Coffin logo over a black and white photo of the band, it read: last home show before tour!

“I still can’t believe that you’re actually going on tour.” You mutter back to him, as you play with the edges repeatedly. Your fingers craving the warmth that a cigarette would let them.

“You’ll make it big too, I know it.” He chuckled, as he left a friendly bump on your knee with his. You laughed as you stared back at his eyes, a flicker of sadness on yours, melancholy in his. A sense of homesickness even if he hasn’t left yet.

“Fucking hope so.” You stood up, a smile appearing on your lips as you got closer to him, you nod as you look at the small flyer one last time before folding it and tucking it deep in your pocket. “I’ll be there, don’t worry.”

Your cheeks flushed as you see the way his smile grows wider and softer, excitement clear his expression, as his hands play excitedly with his rings.

“I’ll see you there then.” He said as he grinned, before turning around and walking to his van, leaving you there.

You watched him leave, thinking about if that was going to be the first time or the last that you had to see him leave, if you would ever get enough courage to actually tell him how he makes you feel, or if he will never know.

You stood there for a second too long as you reached out for a cigarette, feeling the relief it left on your body once the nicotine made its way into it. You started walking slowly to your car, head still in the clouds as you fantasized about telling him. How it would feel to be honest with him for once, i really like you edds you’d say, and he would nod and smile. That stupid smile that drove you wild and mad all at once.

On the back of your car your bass guitar laid there. A promise, a getaway ticket for you to get out of here. You had played with some small bands, nothing ever stuck, not really.

And unlike Eddie, you hadn’t told anyone about the one way plane ticket you had bought for yourself to New York, hoping you’d find fame there.

The show had been amazing, as it usually was.

Thought tonight Eddie seemed to finally shine as bright as he should have always had.

He was angelic under the stage lights.

For once he wasn’t wearing an old beat up band t-shirt, but an open see-through black shirt that let his stomach visible, a happy trail from his belly button traveling down onto his crotch, framed in tight black jeans that you had been trying all night not to stare, as hard as it was.

The sweat that stuck to his body made him shine even more, and even if you thought that he would smell of sweat and alcohol, nothing but an intense smell of sandalwood and perfume followed him as he came down from the stage to hug you tightly.

He didn’t care that everyone was watching. The only thing that mattered right now was that you had come and that you were there, looking at him with admiration and (he hoped) love. He had fallen for you that night, and he would blame the adrenaline, but he was in a rush to let you know.

So his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, not letting you go. Resting his head on the small of your shoulder as he enjoyed the way your arms had settled on his neck, your chest against his, and your hearts beating fast, as one.

It was obvious to both of you, and even if it was necessary, you needed to tell him, it was now or never.

“Eddie” You whisper into his ear.

“I’ll miss you so much.” He answered. You nodded back, he felt it by the way your hair moved, and your chin hitted his body.

“Eddie” You repeated.

He stepped back enough to be able to look at your face, his hands still on your waist. You were in a room full of people, yet you only had eyes and ears for each other, treasureing this moment, wishing it could last forever.

“I’m leaving for New York.” You confessed. Him being the first person you told. You looked at him, as his expression travelled from shockness to proudness. You realised now that your arms had stayed where there were, your hands on the back of his neck, tangled between his curls, the softness of them leaving you speechless for a second too long.

“You better come to our show there.” He joked, as his voice became softer, his eyes shining, not because of the light, but because of the feeling of fondness he felt for you in this moment. He pulled you close once again, and he muttered against your ear. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” He admitted.

“I’m really proud of you too, Edds” It shocked you, just how much sincerity layed on those words, in that moment saying anything else, would just break the moment, in your opinion.

So you just decided to look at him. And the way his face beamed at you, flushed in pretty hues of pink, and that stupid Eddie grin that he had only for you.

In another world, in a world where you were braver, you would have told him you loved him right there, maybe even kissed him.

But in this one, you decided to just hug him again, and really focused on the way he felt, the way he smelt, and just how warm and safe having him this close made you feel. It may be the last time in a while.

In another world, Eddie begged you to come tour with him, he would tell you that he isn’t ready to stop seeing you all of a sudden, that he isn’t capable of imagining a time in his life where he isn’t as close to you as he is right now. In that world Eddie would finally realise that those feelings are the big scary ones, the four letter ones.

But in this one, he is way to scared of leaving home, and he is just panicking enough that he just melts into your arms, and thinks that he’d be a goner if you weren’t his friend, and that he’s too scared of fucking this up with his stupid crush.

So, he drove you home. And whipped your tears as they felt out of your cheek when he finally said goodbye. Leaving you alone in your bed, with his goodbye gift, his Corroded Coffin shirt that you slept with that night.

New York, October, 1986

Moving away from home had a funny way of making you feel like you’ve never actually had a home before.

Even more so when you ended up sharing an apartment with people from your own town, but now you were all older in a way, safe and far away, with a new opportunity.

You did know who Steve was, and the same thing happened with Robin, but you weren’t really friends before, and just in six months you couldn’t imagine a world without them.

Your first week in New York seemed so long ago, it felt like a dream.

Searching for an apartment, and bumping into an old known face that was renting a room.

You were living with them the next day, and you never looked back.

Robin was working at an independent bookstore. Steve found a part-time gig at a youth center. And you made ends meet in an alternative bar in SoHo, down the street where you lived.

What was even better, you were actually playing. Like in a band, a real band. You sang and played the bass, Robin was on drums, and Steve was lead guitar and singer.

Labyrinth had become a new usual in the alternative culture in New York, and you tried to play at least four nights a week.

Robin had come up with the name.

After the first movie night you hosted and Steve had fallen in love with magic dance and the way Bowie sang it, he insisted you guys figured the melody out so you could start covering it regularly.

Now you always open your shows with your version of it.

A new version. A rockier one.

But tonight was a first. One Night Only: Corroded Coffin, openers; Labyrinth. It was more commonly known as “The Hawkins show”.

You had been walking in circles all morning, as your nerves grew bigger and stronger. Not only for playing at the legendary Webster Hall, not even for the fact that actual managers and as Steve had called them “big fishes” were going to be there. It was all because of the stupid curly headed boy.

Now, moments before you actually had to play, you laid on the little backstage space that they let you, trying to get Robin to stay still as you painted a black liner on her eye.

“Robs, I swear to god if you move again and I poke your eye out, I’m not even going to feel bad.” You threaten, as the blonde looked up at you, your faces inches away from hers.

“I can’t help it, it feels funny.” She whined as she stared back at you, her eyes squirming involuntarily as you inched closer.

“Come on dude, she’s done that to you like 52 times at least.” Steve added to the conversation as he changed shirts for the third time in a row. Retouching his hair as soon as the white tank top was hiding his chest, his anxious movements remained the same.

“I thought you were wearing the black one.” You added with a curious look on your face, as you see Steve purse his lips together.

“Dude, don’t make me change again, please.” He stepped closer to the mirror that was behind the both of you.

“Sorry, duuude.” You mocked his new favourite word, as he grinned back at you, his nervous energy becoming yours.

“Can you please finish my other eye before you make fun of Steve?” Robin begged as she grabbed your face, making you look back at her.

“Will you stay still?” She nodded. “Good.”

She didn’t stay still, but you treasured these kinds of moments for what they were worth. The feeling of finally being with people that knew you, truely. Feeling loved, and cared for.

“Right, I’ll get us some beers before the show while you guys change.” Steve announced as he headed out, his body already out the door.

“As if it was something you hadn’t already seen before!” Robin screamed at him. You laughed at her sincerity, and her wobbly hands. It was fun to know just how much control over her movements she had when she was on stage, and just how clumsy she could become once the lights were no longer shining. “So, what are you wearing for your big night?” Robin teased back at you, an eyebrow higher than the other.

“My big night?” Your voice went an octave higher, as you blushed.

“Come on… Eddie?” She asked, as she took her shirt off and she put on her old-once white-badly stitched shirt on.

“What about him?” You said back, a monotone in your voice that wanted to make it sound like it wasn’t that big of a deal, even if it absolutely was.

“Your huge crush on him?”

“I do not!”

“You so do!”

“Well, what if I do?” Robin couldn’t stop laughing, as she saw just how red your face was turning, almost matching the shade of your lipstick.

You turned your back on her as you tried to find his shirt, as faded and as distressed as it was now, it felt important to wear it today. A short black skirt under it, leaving your legs exposed.

“You so do, you love sick bug.” She continued teasing once she saw the shirt you decided to wear.

“I’m just showing support for our hometown talent.” You said back, a fabricated lie that you like to tell yourself, instead of the i’m so nervous i feel like i might vomit so i need something familiar truth.

“Sure you do.” A familiar voice came out from the opened door.

Eddie was resting his body on the door frame, his arms flexed over his chest, and his head tilted, with the same grin that he always had for you.

And once again it happened, nobody else seemed to be in the room when he was in it. His hair seemed longer, and healthier, his arms looked more muscular and his face somehow stayed the same.

That stupid upside grin and his shiny brown eyes.

Steve followed him closely behind, handing you the beer as you cheered as you did before every show.

“Eddie, this is Steve, Steve Eddie.” You introduced the two guys as they shook hands, looking at each other in a funny way. Steve’s free hand was in his waist, the same pose he always has when something was clicking in his head. Eddie had his head crooked to the left, trying to pierce something together.

“Did you hang out with..”

“Henderson.” Eddie finished. They both nodded and laughed, a calm banter starting between the both of them.

“And this is Robin.” You added as you messed with her hair as she waved a shy hi.

“From band?” He asked her, making her shoulders drop, making her feel included and seen.

It made your heart melt just a bit more, seeing him get along so well with your friends, and it was also an incredible relief. This was everything you wanted, Eddie hanging out with your friends, smiling and laughing. You had been dreaming about it ever since he left, and you had met these people that had no problem adopting you into their life.

“We should start doing our sound check” Steve said once he had finished his bottle of beer, Robin already standing up with her drumsticks on her back pocket.

“I’ll join you two in just a second, I need to finish this first.” You moved your head at the mess on the table, makeup scattered away and a song half written in your notebook.

“S’key” Robin blurred as she pushed Steve out of the room, knowing that what you meant to say was that you wanted some time with your old friend.

As they left the room, the mood changed all of a sudden. The room seemed smaller, warmer. The lights softer.

Eddie rested his body on top of a free space of the table, his leg gracing the chair you were sat in, his eyes looking at you closely as you did your black liner. A stupid soft smile appearing on your lips as you looked at him through the reflection of the mirror.

“What?” You laughed as you looked at his curved lips, pinker than you remember.

“I like looking at you.” He confesses. Eddie wanted to tell you so much more, but was somehow still afraid of saying something stupid, so he did what he always does, he lit a cigarette and offered one to you. “I missed being able to look at you.”

“You’re an idiot Moon.” You chuckled as you let him light the cigarette for you.

“At least I’m your idiot, right?”

Eddie’s eyes were hopeful, shining brighter than they have ever done for you, his brown eyes looking like melted caramel, as he left his lips slightly parted while the smoke left them.

He sometimes wished you could read his mind, or that he could read yours. In his opinion it would be easier than to actually gesticulate the words out of his mouth.

“As long as I’m yours.” You answered back, almost in a whisper. Your doe like eyes looking up at him.

Time stopped there. As soon as Eddie left his free hand drawing patterns on the skin of your arm, he was enchanted there, and you couldn’t stop looking at him. Not really believing that he was finally as close to you as he was.

You finished your cigarettes in that comfortable and warm silence, and you waited a few seconds before interrupting it.

“I’ve got something for you.” He looked down at you, his eyebrows raised in intrigue, you bit your lower lip in nervous anticipation.

“Show me?” He begged. You couldn’t help but wonder how he could sound begging for something else. You, perhaps.

You nodded, as you got up from your chair and bent over searching for the new t-shirts you had made for today's show. Not really remembering that you had a skirt on, and not really giving it that much thought, but from Eddie’s point of view it seemed like the view was the gift entirely.

The way your naked legs looked had already made him a little dizzy, but once you bent over he could see the way your thong kept you covered, but still your ass was in full display. He felt a little tighter against his jeans, as a tingling started to grow, along with his blushed cheeks, he resorted to bite the inside of his cheek in a pathetic attempt to not make it all too evident. He even lifted his head up, looking at the ceiling as soon as you turned around.

If you hadn’t been as nervous, you would have caught it all, but once again, you were busy looking at the way your fingers were fidgeting with the shirt you were giving to him.

“You gave me your shirt, it’s about time you have one of mine’s” He was about to melt right on the spot, and for once you could tell. He let out a sight, a i’m falling in love with you kind of sight, or at least that’s what you hoped, or chose to believe.

“You’re so corny” He halved joked as he grins again, his head shaking with the happiest glee you had ever seen on his face.

He took his shirt off in a quick movement, giving you a show of your own. His necklace decorating the way his collar bones looked and marking an arrow going down his chest, tattoos decorating some of his skin, and the same happy trail that had been living on the back of your head since you last saw it six months ago.

But having him that close, made you weaker somehow. His skin looked softer, his body left the space between you both warmer, hotter, smelling of him and his stupid perfume that followed him everywhere he went.

You were aware that your chest had been rising faster as you were thirsting after him, and that your lip started to hurt a bit from biting as hard as you were, trying to not make a sound as you stared at him.

He took away the shirt from your hands, and put it on slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. His breath was starting to get heavier, and the space between both of you smaller.

“Do I- Does it look good?” He asked, his voice lower, raspier. His words only meant for your ears.

“Yeah. Angelic.” He smiled at your joke, as his fingers played with the ends of your hair.

Even though he realised that it wasn’t a joke, since it seemed like more of a confession. He tried something, he took a step closer, and his smile grew deeper when he saw that you didn’t move away, but stepped closer, your waist bumping into his. Your fingers playing anxiously with the end of his new shirt.

“Do you actually like it? Cus’ I made the design and since we don’t really know anything about what the final one’s gonna look like we could still change it and-” He pushed your hair behind your neck, his fingers stopping right there, and shutting you up a second before he talked again.

“Have you ever thought about kissing me?” Your eyes opened wide at the question. A new side of Eddie you hadn’t seen before, a cockiness and lack of fear that left you in awe. Even his usual grin looked different, as you were that close.

“What” Only all the time you thought.

“It’s just, I’ve been thinking about it. Kissing you.” His fingers that rested on your neck started to bury themselves deep into your skin, pulling you in, asking for permission at the same time. “And what could happen.” His voice was lower, barely above a whisper. It was hypnotising. “What I’d do, with you.”

It was truly making you dizzy, his words saying everything that you have always wanted to hear, your heart beating fast and hard, loud enough for you to hear. A tingeling feeling that invaded your whole body, an electricity that pulled both of you closer with every breath you took.

“I have.”

“You have?” He teased back, eyebrow raised as his hair fell to the side. Your cheeks were flushed in pretty pink, and your eyes were softer as you were lost between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanto…”

As soon as you nodded, he didn’t waste any more time. He pulled you by your neck softly at first, and as your breath mixed with his he stopped there for a second, enjoying the feeling right before you kiss the person that’s been on your mind since you met them. But once his lips were on yours, his grip became harder, yours was holding onto his waist, needing him closer, and a moan escaped your lips in between kisses when he held your neck tighter, and your tongue met his.

It had been worth the wait.

“Hope you have a good show, darling.” He muttered, once your lips separated from his. A new found confidence that made him sound cockier, and a wink for you before he exited the room.

You should have reapplied your lipstick, and he should have washed it off, instead you went and played wearing his band shirt with smeared red lipstick, while he was wearing yours and some pretty evident mark of who had kissed you.

New York, June, 1987

The studio always smelled of sandalwood, and the air usually was heavy with smoke.

Funny enough, in the last six months it all happened quickly. Photos of you and Eddie wearing eachothers clothes on stage made it to mainstream media, and you were signed immediately after by the same discography that had signed Corroded Coffin.

Which meant that you shared the same studio.

And usually had the same or similar opportunities.

Steve was curlded on the little couch, scribbling away on his notebook, finishing one of the last songs you needed to finish the album.

Robin was in the recording pod, her final drums until you finish writing the last song you had to write.

It was your idea, each of you would write four songs, twelve songs total. Labyrinth. Self titled album, that was all about you, and your friends.

Robin had come up with beautiful melancholic lyrics about unrequited love, and her identity.

Steve wrote about wanting to be free, his party days and what it felt like living in a small town.

And you wrote about them, and the love you had to give.

And Eddie.

Since that night where you opened for them, Eddie had been living under your skin. He’d come over to where you guys were recording, hang out, steal a kiss or two and leave. Or he’d call you late at night begging for you to come over and sleep with him, and you ended up going every time. Success had finally found its way into Eddie’s life, quicker than in yours.

Corroded Coffin was already working on their second studio album, and had a tour planned out. Magazines covers started to have lines like up and coming band sells out tour or Exclusive Interview with Corroded Coffin’s singer Eddie Munson. The last one asking about you, and Eddie saying on paper that you were just extremely close friends, while he was making you beg for him to hit you harder every time you ended up on his bed.

It was confusing. But you wanted him badly. And there was the small voice on the back of your head that begged you to cherish it while it lasted, because you were afraid of what could happen once tour started.

But you didn’t imagine that you’d start touring before him.

The news had just left Robin’s mouth when she joined you two on the little lounge area.

“We just got a call. You’re going to freak out.” She couldn’t stop smiling, her eyes closing from excitement, as she made her way to the couch, hugging Steve as she whispered something on his ear.

“Shut the fuck up.” He said in return, as he opened his mouth in shock, a starstruck gaze in his eyes as he shook his head from side to side.

“I’m being serious.” She confirmed, as they started screaming and abrupting in nervous laughter.

“What?” You asked, seeing them so excited, not following whatever was going on.

“You’re not lying?” Steve asked again as he threw his notebook on the ground.

“Fuck no, Stevie.” Robin continued to look him dead on the eyes, her smile showing off all of her teeth.

“Guys? What’s going on?” You begged again, the both of them finally lookin at you.

“You should start packing your bags.” Steve started, with his eyes sparkling as he couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping.

“Whatdoyoumean?” Excitement was already filtering through your voice.

“I mean we’re touring.” Robin said, slowly, her hands grabbing her jeans in pure joy.

“Fuck off.” You shook your head as your eyes widened “When?”

“From the 20th of July to the 14th of August, and then back on the 1st of September until the 14th of October.” Robin's voice was calmer now, but still she couldn’t believe it as she was saying it. Out of all of you, she is probably the one that's more excited to tour around, she really wanted to see every little place this world had to offer, and music gave that to her.

“Oh.” A bit of shock and disappointment left your voice, and Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you.

“What?” He said, his stare a familiar sensation.

“I bought you guys tickets as a surprise.” You reached down your bag, and grabbed them, fidgeting with them as you looked back at your friends. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” You handed them the tickets and they laughed deeper, something was going on. “Hey I was excited about seeing Bowie with you guys…” You whined a bit as you snatched the tickets back, throwing them deep into your bag.

“But you will see Bowie with us dude.” Robin stepped closer, a hand resting on your knee as her eyes shined at you, begging for you to put the puzzle pieces together.

“What? When?”

“We’re opening for Bowie.”

You melted into her arms, and Steve followed you guys closely. You had made it, it didn’t matter anymore, that was as close as you could have ever dreamt of, and it was actually happening.

New York, July, 1987

“So you’re really leaving?” Eddie asked, his voice low and softer now that it was only the both of you in the studio.

Your last song is mastered, and the album just needs a few ticks and twists and it will be done, officially.

“Yeah, first show is in Philadelphia.”

“When?”

“We’re leaving in a couple days.” You added, and saw him standing up, putting distance between the both of you. “What’s going on Moon?”

It warmed him, hearing you call him that sweet pet name. The first time you did his skin got covered in goosebumps and his heart stopped for a second. Right now, his heart was shattering and didn’t know how to verbalize it, so hearing you call him that, it drew a needle through his heart. A frown appeared on his face, and all of the alarms started sounding in your head.

“So you’re leaving.” He started, a spiraling down that you didn’t like the sound of.

“So are you.” You pointed out. Eddie looked at you now, your shoulders shrugged in defence, your voice about to break, an uncomfortable conversation that was about to happen.

“Yeah, but I was supposed to…”

“You were supposed to what?” A sharp tone could not only be heard on your voice, but also felt in the air, as this conversation was full of sharp words and needles that stuck on your throat.

“I was supposed to make it, and…”

“So you can go around and I’m supposed to do what? Wait for you?” You weren’t angry, just hurt.

But Eddie didn’t know that.

Eddie just heard you and your cold words. He just saw you sitting down on the couch, with your leg bouncing up and down as your nails buried into your thigh, your hair falling in a controlled mess over you.

Eddie just saw you getting hurt, because of him, and felt awful. So he thought Its better this way, if she stays with me she’ll just get hurt, I love her and I need her happy.

“No.” The way he shook his head, his shampoo filling the air, it stinged the way he looked so beautiful, majestic even. “You were supposed to be by my side.” He sat back down, opposite to you, looking deep into your eyes. “With me.” He half cried, tears stored away and a sore throat coming in.

“I deserve it too…” You whisper, more to yourself than to him.

“Yeah, but… We won’t be together.” He said what you never wanted to hear. A threat, a reality.

“So that’s it then?” A knot was deep in your throat, and your stomach was upside down.

Eddie didn’t know how to tell you, how to act.

Eddie stayed quiet, and let you go.

Los Angeles, October, 1987

“Last show boys.” Steve half sang as he walked into the backstage, three beers in his hand. The tradition that you had still standing.

“Finally.” You sighed, changing the third string from your bass once again.

“You could get a new one.” Robin pointed out as she took her first sip.

“I’m too sentimental about it.” You admitted, beer travelling down your throat as you lighted a cigarette, pushing the smoke out as she fanned it out.

“You’re sentimental about everything.” Steve half joked, the break-up with Eddie still left a sting on you everytime it was mentioned.

“And apparently you two are together now.” Robin said, as she grabbed the magazine that rested on the coffee table.

Steamy moment between the singers of Labyrinth on their latest show.

“Sure, I’m also dating you.” You joked as you grabbed the one underneath.

Labyrinth’s Drummer and Singer are they the perfect match?

“We are a perfect match, aren’t we?” Robin laughed as she pushed her head back, smirking at you as you threw the magazine at her.

“If you keep flirting with me, I’ll kiss you on stage, Buckley.”

“Now that’s a show.” Steve took another sip out of the bottle before talking again, a stupid smile on his face. “But who will kiss me?”

“I can kiss both of you.” You said, jokingly, your cheeks hurting you from smiling.

“Now that is a show.” Robin said as she raised her beer bottle, with the clinking of glass a small promise was made, and laughter and stupid stares were shared.

You did her eyeliner, and for once Robin stood still. Steve always loved to mess with your hair, making it into a controlled mess that made you smile to yourself when you saw the way you looked in the mirror.

It had been a little over a year since you left. Your hair looked longer, healthier. Your face looked the same, but older at the same time. The bags under your eyes now in a purple hue, from being on the road, your smile lines deeper from living with them. And your shattered heart slowly mending back together.

Steve chose to wear the jean vest that he bought on a little shop a few weeks ago in New Orleans. It made him smile when the owner of the small thrift shop asked what he knew him from.

Robin was more confident, so she started wearing small heart parches with pink, white and orange. This time it was a small one on her left sleeve, she kissed it before entering the stage, voices screaming as they saw her.

You choose comfort. The same lacy bra that you already had on, and an old sheer black shirt, left open. The same black jeans, ripped everywhere with the usual red lip. It didn’t matter, you thought, people are here to see Bowie, we are here to have fun.

It was fun.

You started playing your rendition of Magic Dance, and people sang along, cheered when Steve hitted the high notes and you the lower ones.

It was all going way to good. And when you had only two songs left, someone caught your eye.

Right there backstage, Eddie.

An apologetic look on his eyes, and fire in yours.

What does that mean, whatdoes this mean, whatdoesthismean

Steve clocked it to, a knowing nod and a soft “Breathe” that he mouthed to you as soon as he could.

Eddie was there, on your last show, and you didn’t understand why, but if he wanted a show, you might as well give him one.

Before you played what was supposed to be your last song, you moved over to Robin while Steve talked to the audience, and he tells them what he always does. How this means so much for three kids from Indiana, how a year ago you were playing cover songs and now your first album is out, and how lucky he is to be doing this with his best friends, before he introduced you, he looked over, seeing you whispering to Robin.

“Robs, do you remember Silver Springs?” She nodded, and looked at Eddie before lookin back at you, fidgeting with her drumstick.

“Are you sure?” She needed to know that you knew what this meant.

“Positive.” You said before grabbing her by her collar, raising her enough to leave a peck on her lips and making sure everyone saw.

The audience went wild, and Steve chuckled.

“Those are my best friends!” He cackled.

“Do you want one babe?” You muttered into his microphone, and while the people screamed you whispered into his ear. “Silver Springs.” He nodded, and gave you a peck.

You laughed it off, and it was your turn to talk to everyone, though you were only talking to Eddie now.

“Since everyone thinks I’m dating both of them…” You muttered, with a goofy smile as you fumbled with your bass, a nervous tick you didn’t know how to stop. “We are single though, the three of us, so ladies, call us, or dudes I don’t mind.” You smiled as you saw Steve shaking his head no, as Robin shook it yes. “Anyway, um… We are really thankful that this has been our first touring experience… If you told me that The Bowie would ever know who I am I…”

“So emotional” Robin joked through the microphone.

“Well yeah” You shut back. “The point is, we weren’t going to end with this one, but we started as a cover band, so it feels right.” As soon as the beat started, you saw the way people were whispering, and how some of them had clocked Eddie.

And for once, you were the main voice. It was your song, and your moment. And Eddie knew that.

He had come over, wanting to support you on your last show, but as soon as he heard what you were playing, he regretted it, he regretted it all. It was even worse when he felt your stare as you sang to him. You didn’t look at the audience, or at Steve -who he didn’t want to think about you kissing again- you were staring directly and deeply into him. And the words stung.

I’ll follow you down till’ the sound of my voice will haunt you. And he could tell that you were close to crying now, and he was also sure that you had never sounded better, which only made him more proud, in a weird way.

You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you. And he knew, in that messed up moment, he knew you did love him, and that he had deeply cut you open, as he realised that you would have loved him better than anyone else if he only had given you the chance.

I know I could’ve loved you, but you would not let me. And he was the one crying now. He didn’t realise it at first, and neither did you, but everyone else did. And as a cosmic joke, both of you whipped the tears away at the same time.

A shared moment that made you both smile, as you finally reconnected to the audience and the final note hitted, you let your body crumble into the ground, feeling the warm embrace of Steve and Robin. You had them, no matter what.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up, it was beautiful.” Robin half chuckled, half cried as you stood up and waved goodbye for the final time.

You mouthed a thank you and various I love you’s to the people that still cheered, maybe more now that they had seen you break down. You weren’t sure and didn’t want to think about it.

They hugged you tighter than before once you were backstage, and made sure you were okay before he came, with his tail between his legs.

“Hi.”

You were hugging yourself, your arms crossed across your chest, a shy look on your face, not sure what to say after that.

Eddie was still open, his eyes puffy and red, his throat sore from holding on to tears and the trembling hand you had left him with traveled down his pocket in search of his cigarettes.

He offered you one.

A peace offering that you accepted.

“I’ve been an asshole.” He admitted.

“Yeah, a bit.” You nodded as you lighted your own for once.

But you couldn’t lie to yourself, being this close to him, it sparked something back. A tingling, a feeling, a dormant electricity.

“I really want to be something to you again.” He tried being sincere for once. And you knew he was actually being truthful, his eyes locked with yours, his voice clear and without a trembel, and a I’m so fuckin sorry written across his face.

“I really loved you, you know?” You admitted. A bit of sweet poison leaving your lips. “I loved you and it seemed like you didn’t care.”

“I did care, I do care.” He tried stepping closer, but didn’t dare to, wanting or better said, needing to give you your space. “I love you too.”

He didn’t speak in the past, you noticed.

“Still do?” Hope in your voice, begging for him to actually say it again, even if both of you knew it wouldn’t fix anything.

“Still do.”

“You’re going to have to prove yourself, you know?” He nodded, as smoke left his mouth.

“I do.” He was lost in you, the way you let smoke out, the way you had taken a step closer to him. The way you were, there, actually speaking to him.

“One date.” You agreed, and his eyes shined again.

“One date.” He nodded.

A promise you hoped he didn’t break again.

He didn’t, not this time.

if you enjoyed it -i really hope you did- please reblog, comment or leave a heart, your support means a lot to me <3

211 notes · View notes

lovetei · 9 months

Note

also while im still here hehehe

could you do the brothers comforting an mc that had a breakdown in the groupchat? it doesnt have to be separate! since i imagine they come to mc's room one by one to comfort them on their own way yk... ???? like theyre helping each other out to help mc... if that makes sense qwq

Ooh... I don't really know if I correctly got your request but I'll try?

I fell asleep midway doing this so I just rushed it. Don't worry though I'll post another one for today

--------------------------------------------------

Comforting a MC that broke down in the group chat and what are specific things they'll do to comfort you

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Warnings: Cussing, them being rich, Mentions of "I'll kill myself fr" attitude from MC, Mentions of drugs as a joke

Links: Masterlist

--------------------------------------------------

Satan: To be honest, why does RAD even have an entrance exam?

Asmodeus: Like it's so easy to pass.

Mammon: FR, they just be wasting papers at this rate.

Leviathan: Seriously Mammon? You can't even pass a normal drug test 😒

Belphegor: Mammon is so optimistic to the point where even his drug test is positive Lol

MC: I will kill myself.

Leviathan: HAHAHAHHAHAHA

Leviathan: Oh shit

Beelzebub: 😀

MC: :)

Leviathan: MC that's wasn't for you 😭😭😭

Lucifer: And what caused that uncharacteristic melancholy in your countenance, dear?

MC: I have no time for your jargon, tall fuck 🖕🏻

MC: If no one found out what I want for comfort the next 24 hours, you all are gonna see a dead sheep by the next day.

MC: Bye.

--------------------------------------------------

LUCIFER

Fuck life and fuck everybody

He will turn the Devildom upside down just for you

He'll show up at your doorstep with multiple jewelers with catalogs

And they're showing you accessories that are never bellow six digits

But you just waved it off?!

MAMMON

He would show up at your doorstep with keys in his hand

He'll then make you look at your bedroom window and there, outside are multiple sprouts car lined up

He'll press one of the key buttons and suddenly the Ferrari will light

Then the BMW, then the porch, then the Lamborghini

And you don't even want these?! He made sure they're all human brands!

LEVIATHAN

His offering is probably one of his exclusive islands

It's true

He's showing up outside your door with papers and pictures

Showcasing some of his private islands that he will gladly gave you

SATAN

They might be giving you jewelries and cars

But he's giving you properties

Condominiums and even some room from his apartment business

Please those earns a lot just don't do anything to yourself

ASMODEUS

Typical Asmo will pull out every Profesional designer

Gucci? No problem

Saint Laurent? Right here

Prada? At your service

Don't do anything to yourself babes, you can even ruin all these expensive clothes if you want, it's not a bother.

BEELZEBUB

There's a whole catering group for you

Right outside your room

Profesional chefs and extremely expensive foods right out of your door

Waiting for you to go out and eat it

Please, MC. He'll even join you

BELPHEGOR

Probably one of the most sane

He'll book you a ticket to a rage room

Except there you can go fully berserk like using all the cancer causing spells you know

Or he'll just knock you out

Whatever works the best.

#obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me crack #obey me x reader #obey me angst #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

553 notes · View notes

hanlimz · 7 months

Text

lol i wrote this at 2am bc i love jungwon sm and i needed to word vomit so i can focus on this stupid essay i have to write 💔 be gentle w this bc it’s not that good haha !! pls enjoy ❤️

the incessant ringing of your phone is a cacophony of sound pressed against your ear as you wait with bated breath. it’s been a week since jungwon was last able to call, a week since you were able to hear his voice; and, it’s been even longer since you’ve been able to touch him (in any capacity). your palms are itching for the opportunity to cup his face, and your lips are yearning to pepper gentle kisses over the apples of his rounded cheeks.

so, you picked up your phone and clicked on his silly contact photo. while you wait, you count the ceiling tiles. you see how long you can go without blinking. you lose track of time, and you eventually try to freestyle over the stock ringtone. just as you rhyme sublime with you’re mine, the noise stops and jungwon begins to laugh. why he always manages catches you at your worst—you will never know.

“i hope that rap was about me,” he snorts airily, amusement having stolen his breath away. you can almost see his pretty face through the phone; the way the corners of his lips quirk up, his dimple deepening, the gentle reshaping of his eyes as they wane into two, umber crescents. laughter is so transformative, and you’re glad you can see it (even if only in your mind). “oh, [y/n], also—i just posted some selcas on we—” the phone cuts out, and the momentary silence slices at your heart.

“won? you still there?” you ask, tentatively, “i promise the rap was about you. cross my heart, hope to die.”

jungwon’s pseudo-presence floods your chest once more as he chuckles. “that’s good to know, babe—but, no dying on my watch, ‘kay?”

“bold of you to say when you’ve left me here,” you scoff.

“to die?” he inquires, another bout of giggles hiding behind his words.

“to die,” you answer, dramatically. “to wither, to waste away with no boyfriend to sing me to sleep and kiss me when i’m sad.”

the line goes quiet for a few seconds, and it’s almost a comfortable silence. something lurks behind this pregnant pause, however, and you can’t help but feel stifled by the heavy weight building in your stomach. jungwon is overthinking—the feeling is palpable. he’s chewing on his bottom lip and you can almost taste his vanilla chapstick; the nail of his thumb is worn down to the quick in the same way he’s bitten at the inside of his cheek.

“jungwon, you know i’m just joking, right?” there’s a hint of regret lacing your voice, a tinge of melancholy, but it mixes with a resolute affirmation of your love for him. “i miss you, but i couldn’t be more proud of you. watching those clips of you on stage, seeing you enjoy yourself—it all makes me love you even more. you’re doing so well.”

“i know,” he sighs, sounding exceedingly dejected. “i just feel like i can’t give you what you need—like i can’t be who you deserve from this far away.”

your jaw goes slack upon hearing his confession. his words shock you to your core; strong-willed yet so fragile-hearted, why your lover is so critical of himself—you will never know. in your eyes, jungwon is nothing short of angelic; ethereal in a way only known by beings of the heavens, jungwon brightens every room he walks into and makes your day better by merely existing. he is a sanctuary of sorts—warm and inviting and gentle.

“are you insane?” the question tumbled from your mouth before your brain could formulate a better response.

he hums, inquisitively, “i don’t think so?”

“okay, not exactly how i wanted that to come out,” you concede, “but—seriously, won—you’re my everything. you never have to worry about me wanting more, because you’re already who i want. who i need. and, honestly, i don’t know what i did to deserve you.” you know he’s flushed on the other side of the phone, cupping a sweater paw over his face while trying not to giggle and swing his feet like a schoolgirl. “yang jungwon, i love you very much, and i’m always so, so thankful for you … so, tell your brain to stop beating you up, or i’ll kick its slimy, little ass.”

“thank you, [y/n]. i love you, too.” he laughs for a moment, then stops himself, “wait—did you just say my brain was little?!”

#enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enha fluff #jungwon fluff #; — cass writes: soft n sweet #enhypen imagines #enhypen jungwon #enha x reader #jungwon reactions #jungwon imagines #jungwon headcanons #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader

197 notes · View notes

lostloveletters · 22 days

Text

Jesus or Gasoline (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Woody isn't sure what she believes in, except for the way John Brady makes her feel.

Note: Here it is, the result of my making a ‘guy who says grace before giving head’ joke about Brady. I wanna give a million thanks to all the Woody/Brady babes out there because y'all's support and enthusiasm for them means the world to me! As usual I listened to a lot of Bruce Springsteen while writing this. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical inaccuracies. This goes into Woody’s not so great childhood/young adulthood and her generally negative internalized thoughts surrounding religion. Sexually explicit content involving oral sex (f. receiving) and coming in pants.

The field behind the hangar was a questionable date spot at best, but Woody figured it was better than nothing. Secluded enough with some lighting as to not be stumbling around in the dark, but without fear of being easily identified if they got caught before they could make a break for it if needed.

Word of the late night rendezvous had come from Holly, barely able to contain her excitement at being the messenger. “Your beau wanted me to tell you to meet him tonight,” she whispered, giggling as she added, “said you’d know where.”

Woody had given Holly all of the details the night John Brady kissed her, her best friend in ecstatic disbelief that so much had happened while she and Bucky were listening to a baseball game across the way. Holly took girl code as a sacred oath, not mentioning Woody and Brady’s relationship to a soul in the week or so that had passed. John wasn’t exactly pleased when Woody let him know that she told Holly, but he supposed if Woody trusted Holly that much, he could, too.

“There you are, sweetheart,” John said, with a genuine fondness that she almost couldn’t believe was directed toward her. “Have you been waiting long?”

She shook her head, greeting him with a kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“I brought you something,” he said, pulling a Hershey bar from his pocket.

“Don’t waste that on me, are you kidding?”

“Holly told me you give the village kids whatever candy you get, and I know ground crew doesn’t get as much in your rations as we do.”

Good ol’ Holly. “They appreciate it more than me.”

He looked at her pointedly, though eyes glistened in amusement as he half-scolded, “Don’t reject a gift, sweetheart. It’s bad manners.”

Woody fought back a smile, felt her cheeks heating up . “Thank you, Johnny. You’re real sweet.” Gave him a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his forearm. “Can we at least split it?”

“I won’t say no to that.”

The grass was damp from the late afternoon rain. She was glad she thought to grab an old blanket, worn out and smelled faintly of fuel, but it’d do.

He split the bar in two, handing the bigger half to her. She took a bite, surprised to find herself feeling a wistful melancholy for the states at the taste of it. Wasn’t sure she ever felt homesick before, but there was a first time for everything. Like John laying out on the blanket, resting his head in her lap.

“Comfortable?” she asked with a laugh.

“Great view from here.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You know, I’ve been dying to ask you this ever since I met you,” he began, giving her pause at the seemingly endless possible questions he could hit her with. “Do you really like being called ‘Woody’?”

She nodded, stroking his hair, taking in how relaxed he looked. “Yeah, I really do. It’s been nice to leave ‘Kate’ behind and start fresh.”

“So your first name is just Kate?”

“Shows you how much thought my parents put into it.”

“See, I wanna know more about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“We talk a good deal, but I don’t know much about your life before all of this.”

“I don’t have anything nostalgic or good to tell you, especially not about me. I’m ashamed of who I was before. I’m trying to be better, John. I really am. I don’t—I don’t hang around people who have nothing going for them.”

People like how she used to be. The backstreets burst at the seams with them. Children of neglect, of the Depression, of something wild otherwise running through their veins. They made their homes where they could. Guys who rode around on streaks of lightning, spewing pure gasoline from snarled lips on each of those hilly avenues until they were wrangled in the back of cherry-topped police cars. Girls who should’ve known better drank empty promises out of broken glasses, handed to them by the constantly circling shark-men. Kate learned quickly not to get attached to anyone. They looked out for each other, but they weren’t friends. There was a difference.

“I got an older brother named Tom. Last I heard he was in jail for holding up a liquor store,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since I was eleven, though. That’s when I really started looking after myself.”

“Eleven is pretty young to be on your own,” he said, taking her hand from his hair and holding it in his own, intertwining their fingers.

“What were you doing when you were eleven?”

He shrugged. “Rode bikes around with my friends. Started learning saxophone. I was an altar boy, too.”

“So your family went to mass a lot when you were growing up?”

“Every Sunday that we could. I remember my mom waking us up to go even when we had to walk through a foot of snow to get there because the roads hadn't been cleared yet,” he said, his voice growing softer as he spoke. “Doesn’t seem all that bad, now. Maybe it—it helped some.”

Woody had seen John make the sign of the cross dozens of times. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Remembered the first time she watched him among the other Catholic guys in the 100th, crowded around the chaplain for his makeshift blessing on the tarmac before their missions. Devotion ran exceptionally high then, men suddenly armed with a rainbow of beaded rosaries and holy cards adorned with saints whose weary eyes gazed upward, where those men were soon to be. Their heads bowed in silent contemplation as the priest concluded in Latin, John’s mouth moving along with sed libera nos a malo. But deliver us from evil.

A handsome face like his deserved half a dozen kids with names like Mary and Francis who filed neatly into a pew with their shiny patent shoes and a big family meal to look forward to after mass. Kids who gave the likes of her odd looks when she shuffled into church for whatever lunch the nuns were dishing out that afternoon. Always dressed in her Sunday worst—ill-fitting blouses and holey shoes until she ditched their charity and decided she was better off raising hell in denim jeans. God loved everyone, and his love was unconditional, but no one wanted to say he loved some people more than others, and Kate was pretty low on his list.

After all, Kate Woodward was born without a middle name on a Wednesday morning that even god himself forgot about. Didn’t know what the weather had been like the first time she breathed in the air of her home city, but she was sure it felt like a kick in the chest. Probably why babies cried when they made their grand escape from the womb.

Hardly raised in the first place, Kate had little faith in god or man, just in the machines she could bend to her will until they gave her freedom to go wherever she pleased. But her freedom had gnashing teeth and a forked tongue that were never satisfied, no matter how many vices she fed it, and she was nothing short of gluttonous in this endeavor.

Tried and true, the one she had the hardest time shaking—sticky fingers. If Kate saw something she liked, she took it. From drug store shelves to purses to wallets, nothing was off limits. As time went on, her spoils only got bigger and better, linking up with people who taught her how to steal cars like riding a bike. She had yet to find a replacement for that particular thrill, but her self-control had markedly improved in a little over two years.

Then there were men with hacksaw smiles that threatened to cut her open if she got as close as they wanted her to. Thunderous voices that cracked with rage when she’d shove the smoldering cherry tip of her cigarette into a hand that got too close for comfort. None of them were any good, not like the man with his head in her lap, who brought her chocolate rations and listened intently to her, even as her voice shook with trepidation at bearing so much of her heart.

Woody hummed, her fingers trembling as she traced the features on his face—his expressive brows, the nose that gave him a profile she could hardly tear her eyes from, lips she dreamed about since the night he first kissed her and every time since. Besides the power of a well-maintained engine, she believed in the way she felt about John.

“I was lonely and angry,” she murmured after relaying her patchwork of regrets and fears to him. “I made a lot of mistakes because of that. It’s not an excuse. But I wanna be honest with you so you can still change your mind about me if you want to. I understand if you do.”

“There’s nothing to change my mind about, sweetheart. I want to be with you,” he said, conviction strong in his voice as he sat up.

“I’m not a virgin,” she stressed.

He shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would’ve been surprised if you were.”

“Well, I didn’t love any of them—four guys in total, mind you—and it’s not like I got anything out of it, either.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

Crushes were for girls who lived in nice houses and wrote hearts above their i’s. Desire ran hot, expressed in glances made with hooded lids beneath buzzing neon lights that left a thousand things unsaid. But after that handful of physically underwhelming experiences which ended up being far more trouble than they were worth, she came to the conclusion that she was better suited to get her own rocks off.

“Got what out of it?” he asked.

She chewed on her lip. The only sin out there was getting caught, and Kate Woodward never got caught. Woody chose to confess. “I had to get to the good part myself.”

“That’s unacceptable.”

Her heart sank. “I haven’t done it in—“

“Those selfish bastards never made you come?”

“Not one.”

“In that case, I’d be glad to be your first.”

“I want you to be,” she said, leaning back on her hands in the dewey grass, spreading her coverall-clad legs apart. “I wanna do everything with you.”

He placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers playing with the inner hem of her coveralls. “Tell me how you want it, sweetheart.”

“I want your mouth.” Truthfully, she’d never had a guy go down on her before. Heard about it from other girls, wild ones out in the desert. A few others as she got to know the first group of WAAC girls she bunked with after enlisting. Even from Holly, as apparently Stan had been generous and enthusiastic about that aspect of their sex life. Stan, Stan, what a man, the girls would tease about Holly’s fiance before he was dearly departed.

The corners of John’s lips twitched up as he brought his fingers further along the hem, inching closer to her covered sex. “Never had a girl ask me to do that before.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

She hesitated, averting her eyes from him. “A lot of guys think it’s gross.”

“I think I should decide for myself, don’t you?” He cupped her chin, caressing her jaw with his thumb. “Look at me, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?”

Upon returning her gaze to his, she found no judgment behind his eyes, but a passionate sincerity.

“I want you to go down on me,” she said.

She studied him as he watched her. His pretty lips parted slightly, drinking her in as more of her body was exposed. It wasn’t a strip tease, nothing sexy about the way she pulled her arms out from the sleeves and yanked her coveralls down to her knees, finally kicking them to her ankles and off entirely. Sat before him in her white t-shirt, plain underwear, and boots, almost boyish if not for her breasts, low on her chest, nipples poking through the fabric.

“Are you wearing a bra?” He sounded breathless, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was even asking.

“No,” she said, her lips curving into a smile, letting him in on another secret. “I always take it off at the end of the day. Don’t tell anyone.”

As if the other girls didn’t know, with some degree of judgment along with their understanding that the damn thing got uncomfortable, could chafe with all the work they were doing, the sweat and friction. It wasn’t like anyone could really tell beneath the other layers, anyway. But anyone meant anyone of the male persuasion, and with that, John dutifully shook his head.

His lips were on hers in an instant, a hand on her waist, the other shoved up her shirt, squeezing her breasts. She gasped at the way his rough palm felt against her nipple, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue in her mouth. Her moans were lost to the world, claimed by him and him alone. He straddled her lap, keeping her in place beneath him.

John moved his hand from her waist to between her legs, rubbing her already wet pussy through her underwear. Her lips were undoubtedly swollen from the ferocity with which he kissed her. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the thought of how it’d feel against her cunt.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to pull them off of her. Bringing up her knees, she felt a burst of adrenaline rush through her at being so exposed to him.

“You need to tell me how I’m doing, alright? I wanna make sure you feel good,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” she mumbled, almost dizzy with desire as he lowered his face between her legs.

His hot breath on her cunt, lips brushing against her folds. She strained to hear… whispering?

“Johnny?” she asked after a few moments of aching anticipation. “Baby, if you don’t wanna— Jesus Christ,” she choked out. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the rest of them.

His tongue lapped at her clit, eyes looking up at her for approval. With a shaky nod, she bid him to continue, biting her lip as to stifle the whine that threatened to escape her mouth. A noble attempt, but fruitless when he licked up her pussy with the flat of his tongue, pulling a moan from deep in her chest. Her heart was beating between her legs.

Woody could make herself feel pretty damn good on her own. She lifted a dirty magazine from a guy in Reno once. Had pictures and everything, though she wasn’t sure how real it all was. She’d look at the pictures, tongue between her lips and hand between her thighs as she imagined herself in those women’s places, feeling the ecstasy written all over their expressive faces with their typically faceless partners. From there, she’d get creative, allowing her mind to conjure up a man who, behind her closed eyes, could bring her to orgasm. Even in her wildest fantasies, she never thought she’d find one who’d actually want to bury his face in her pussy.

Fuck, if she couldn’t feel John’s fingers digging into her thighs, she would’ve almost thought she was dreaming. She grabbed his hair, pressing his face harder against her cunt. He was giving so much, and she’d take all of it, greedy with the pleasure he offered her.

He slid two fingers inside her pussy, slowly enough to see how she’d take it before pumping them in and out at a quicker pace. Used his other hand to hold her down when her hips jerked up in his face, like her muscles had a mind of their own, hellbent on reaching an orgasm. Hell, so was she.

“Just like that— fuck,” she rasped, her nails scraping against his scalp.

She nearly wanted to ask if he’d been lying, if he had gone down on a girl before. He at least had enough experience to know where her fucking clit was, but his mouth. Jesus, how could he expect her to go to the officer’s club and watch him play saxophone after this? As if she wouldn’t be sitting there, skin feverish, thighs pressed together, thinking about his mouth and his fingers in that moment. The way his teeth grazed against her clit, making her pussy clench around his fingers. The way it almost felt like he was making out with her cunt. Their eyes would meet, and he’d know, maybe have a little smirk on his face up there, too. An obscene secret privately shared amidst dozens of other people who’d be none the wiser.

“Don’t stop,” She was so close it almost hurt, wound up tight and pulsing in her gut, waiting to be released. “Please don’t stop.” Hot tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Her chest felt like it was on the verge of bursting open. Between a fistful of grass and a hand buried in his hair, she cried out his name like a vulgar prayer in the night as her orgasm rocked through her.

A universe of stars burst across her abdomen, white-hot supernova tearing through her muscles, blinding her from anything but the pleasure that pulsed from her pussy. She finally came down from it, covered in sweat, chest heaving, a wild-eyed woman as John pushed himself back up on unsteady arms.

She grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer so he was straddling her lap. Took in his mussed up hair and the way his lips glistened with the traces of her still on them. She kissed him, a muffled moan in her throat at the taste of herself on this tongue.

She wanted him. More of him. Everything he had to give. Wasn’t sure it’d be enough to sate her need, but damn if she couldn’t try.

“Johnny, can’t we just do it?” she pleaded, her voice a girlish whine that sounded otherwise foreign coming from her as she desperately pawed at him.

“Next time,” he whispered. “Next time, sweetheart, I promise.” Grazed his teeth against her hummingbird pulse. “I didn’t bring a condom.”

“But what about you?” she pressed, reaching for his crotch. “You must be—“

He shook his head, cheeks flushed as he licked his lips. “I got carried away, sweetheart. I, uh—I’m good.”

She slipped her hand down his pants, feeling the sticky evidence of his orgasm for herself. Her fingertips brushed the sensitive head of his spent cock, sending a shiver down his spine. Was he good, though? He groaned. No wonder Douglass kept so many goddamn rubbers in his footlocker.

“Next time,” he repeated, voice strained and husky in a horrific display of self-control. He nearly regretted it when she pulled her hand away, feeling something sinful stir in his gut as she inspected her hand, finally bringing it to her mouth and licking the residue off her knuckles with a feline-esque curl of her tongue.

“Just say the word, Johnny. Whenever you want me to return the favor, I’ll drop everything for you.”

He swallowed roughly. She meant it.

#john brady x oc #john brady #john brady x ofc #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #mota #mota fanfic #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #ch: woody #so basically i got carried away

58 notes · View notes

luvvvivii · 6 months

Note

can we get a changbin taking care of really sick reader? i am suffering rn 😪

11.58pm — s.cb

pairing - changbin x gn!reader

genre - fluff, timestamp

wc - 398

warnings - reader is sick, like one usage of 'babe'

a/n - I'm soso sorry for getting this out so late ml 💔 hope this was up to your standards tho

synopsis - one stuffy night your stuck home sick. lucky for you, your wonderful boyfriend is here to look after you

[11:58pm] — "achoo!" your whole body jerked as your nose sniffled away under the blankets. you were trying so hard to be quiet, to not disturb changbin whilst he was working, but couldn't help the loud sneeze that erupted. you sighed and turned onto your back, looking up at the ceiling in melancholy. that was when you heard the door to your shared room creak open slowly. uncovering the blankets from your face, you see your boyfriend staring at you with sympathy in his eyes.

"babe, you sure you don't want me to stay here with you?" you nodded your head, but it seemed as if there was no point. changbin was already there by your side on the bed with tissues, medicine, and heated soup he had made prior to your current situation. you chuckled a little, so happy at the fact he cared so much.

"you don't have to do this binnie, I told you I'm fine." as if life was against you once again, you released a chesty cough upon saying those words, making changbin wince slightly whilst passing you tissues.

"even if you were alright, I would still want to be here by your side. so it's final! I'm staying right here in bed with you until you get better!" he laughed and handed you the soup to have and slowly took out the medicine for you to have.

you were always pretty weak, and getting sick wasn't a rare occurrence for you. that was why changbin was almost forced into learning how to look after you and cater to your needs (not as if he wouldn't have learnt it anyway). you felt bad for making him do such nice things for you, especially when he would usually have sharp deadlines and lots of melodies to submit as a producer. but no, changbin always had time for you. he would always make time for you.

"yn? are you okay?" changbin's voice snapped you back to reality, showing slight concern for your current state.

"hm? oh, yeah, I'm okay. just spaced out a bit."

"alright that's good. now, how about we get some rest?" he slowly tucked himself into bed under the sheets, giggling and getting all comfortable beside you.

"what about your project? didn't chan say he wanted you to send it in by tomorrow morning?"

"that can wait. what's more important right now is you."

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #skz imagine #seo changbin #changbin #seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin imagine #changbin drabble #changbin fluff

94 notes · View notes

gretavanlace · 2 years

Text

Garnet

Josh kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, teasing, edging if you squint, digital penetration, unprotected sex, blood, period kink, idk. Lots, proceed with caution ❤️

“Hey, little star…” Josh ghosts the pads of his fingers over your face, stepping closer to you as you unfasten your earrings, dropping them carefully into the tiny bowl that rests on your dresser. “What’s wrong? You look sad.”

You’ve been ‘little star’ since your second date, where, on the way into the restaurant, you’d pointed out Orion’s Belt to him in the night sky.

“Can I have a kiss?” you can’t help the pout in your tone, you feel adrift…you’ve hardly seen him all day.

It isn’t his fault, he had interviews to charm his way through, and a few meetings he was unable to wiggle his way out of. He’s busy, and only getting busier, and you’re so proud of him…but sometimes, you let your heart get greedy.

“Ah, baby,” he grins that sparkling smile, beaming light into the room like an otherworldly supernova. “Of course you can. Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

His lips sweep tenderly across your own, a precursor to the delicate curl of his soft tongue against them. He pulls back just a hint to allow your answer. Ever the glutton for praise, he wants to hear you say it.

“I missed you so much.” you can’t seem to shake the melancholy in your voice and he searches your eyes with concern.

“Seriously,” his hands cup your cheeks. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I promise…” you sigh, nuzzling into his touch. “Just felt lonely for you. I still do, even though you’re right here. Isn’t that silly?”

“No,” he soothes, sweetly pecking a trail of kisses along the apples of your cheeks. “I don’t think that’s silly at all. I know what you need. You just need a little attention, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You shake him off gently. “I’m okay, scouts honor.”

“You know you were never a boy scout,” he chastises with staged seriousness. “You shouldn’t toss the oath around like that. It isn’t a joke. Besides, maybe I want to show you some attention? I missed you too, you know?”

“I can’t right now, babe.” you sigh, pulling away to slip your top over your head, tossing it into the hamper. “Let’s just cuddle up and go to sleep, ‘k?”

His hands find your bare waist and then slip up to tug the cups of your bra down, thumbs swirling over your nipples the moment they make their appearance. “What do you mean you can’t right now? I missed you, you missed me…c’mon, little star, let’s make some noise.”

“Josh, quit…” you squirm away from him and tug an oversized t-shirt on, warding off his grabby hands.

“Okay…” he backs off right away, but leads you over to the bed. It’s a mess of tangled sheets, as neither of you bother too often with making it in the mornings after you drag yourselves out of the warm cocoon of slumber. “Can I kiss you for a little while, though? I really did miss you, and you smell so good.”

This is dangerous territory. Not because he might try to take it further, but because you have so little will power when it comes to this beautiful, honey-sweet, man of yours.

“Yeah.” it sighs out of you before you can think better of it, and suddenly you’re on your back, warming up the crisp linens while he tugs away his stark shirt.

“Mmm, look at you.” his lips twitch into a lazy smile as he drops his mouth down close to yours. “You’re very pretty, little star. Have I told you that yet today?”

“Yes,” you smile back, draping your arms over his shoulders to hold onto his warmth. “You’re very pretty, Josh. Have I told you that yet today?”

He tips his nose against yours, “Yes, I believe you have, this morning when I was getting dressed. But your eyes were on my cock, if I remember correctly.”

A laugh bursts out of you at his lie. “They were not!”

“You're right.” he acquiesces. “Would’ve been a hell of an ego boost if they had been, though.”

“How did everything go today?” you ask as his mouth travels an idle path along your neck.

“Good.” he murmurs against your pulse. “Samuel did his best to irritate me during our interviews, but I played nice.”

Your hands sink into his tangled curls, “Mmm, good boy.”

“Okay,” he pulls back and frowns down at you. “If you aren’t going to let me fuck you, behave.”

Chills race up your spine at the obscenity of his words, and their forcefulness. He notices, because of course he does.

“Yeah? You like that, sweetheart?” his teeth nip away at your throat.

A hum is your only response, but it seems to serve him well. “Which part? The part where I talked about fucking you? Or when I told you to behave? You wanna be a good girl for me? Hmm? Wanna be on your best behavior and make me so, so proud of my pretty baby?”

“Fight fair.” you can’t help the moan that slips out softly.

“No thank you.” he teases back, pressing you down into the mattress with the warm weight of his body.

“Josh…” his name is nearly all you can manage. He’s all you can see, and hear, and smell…he’s all around you, and he’s fucking intoxicating.

“What?” he breathes into your mouth, lips moving languidly over your own.

“You have a problem, you know?” a careful pinch at the curve of his waist earns your bottom lip a nip of his teeth.

“What sort of problem, love?” he grinds against you until a tiny whimper flutters out of you on a sigh. “Tell me.”

“I think you’re a sex addict…and I think you need to get some help.” You’re only teasing…sort of.

“Oh, wouldn’t that make for an awkward intervention with my family? Have you planned one yet? Because I’d very much like to skip it.”

He’s rocking into you with a purpose now, and you can’t help yourself, you’re moving with him, lifting your hips to meet his as the grip you have on his shoulders tightens. “What? You don’t want to talk with your parents about how you can’t seem to keep your dick in your pants? C’mon Josh, don’t be like that. It’s only because we love you.”

“Would you shut up?” he smiles with an adorable roll of his eyes. “I’m trying to fuck my girl, and I can’t do that if she’s talking about my parents.”

“I already told you, your girl’s closed for business.” you remind him.

“Why?” his hand slips down to slide up inside your shirt, warm fingers seeking out your hardened nipple. “You think I don’t know why you’re giving me such a hard time about this? It’s just a little blood, sweetheart…I don’t care, I’m a sex addict, remember?” He winks at you and steals your heart away. He still isn’t fighting fair.

“Well, the sheets will care.” you point out, feeling the warm flush of heat that’s coloring your cheeks.

“Listen, don’t tell them, because I don’t want to be hurtful…” he whispers, words tickling your ear softly. “But I don’t give a shit about the sheets. In fact, I hate them. Let’s ruin them, yeah?”

“It’ll make a mess, Josh.” you hum as he sucks delicately at your neck.

“Good.” his hand has abandoned your breast and is now sneaking down to trace your clit over your panties. “Wanna be my pretty, messy girl?”

“Fuck…” the curse trembles out of you sounding desperate and needy already.

“Yeah, listen to you. Sound all soft, just like an angel, don’t you? Tell me you want me, and make it sweet.”

His voice is so quiet, so low, rumbling out of him and straight into your cunt, like faraway thunder charging the air surrounding you both with electricity. Still, you shake your head…it’s too embarrassing.

“No?” a smug shadow casts over his expression. “Well, isn’t that a shame? I think this pretty little pussy wants me, though.” he circles your clit through the cotton hiding it a little faster. “I think she wants me so bad. Why don’t you let me spoil her for a little while?”

“Baby, stop…” you whine. He’s always gentle and attentive, if you really wanted him to stop he would in a heartbeat, but he knows that really isn’t what you want as well as you do.

“Oh, I’m ‘baby’ now? We’re making progress.” his fingers disappear into his delicious mouth and then slip inside your underwear to stroke over your swollen clit.

His touch is met with a shaking gasp that makes him groan in response. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Your heart is a kick drum banging wildly in your chest as you offer a frantic nod just before your eyes drift shut. He’s gotten you so worked up, so quickly, and you’re so fucking sensitive…if you concentrated hard enough, you could cum already.

“My lovely girl,” he’s crooning so gently, nuzzling into your hair, taking such good care of you, your head is spinning. “Thank you, little star…thank you for being my good girl. For letting me touch you.”

“More…” you beg before you realize you’ve even spoken.

“You want more?” the grin in his tone is on full display though your eyes are still closed. The man loves a solid victory. “Does my baby want to cum pretty for me?”

“Don’t tease.” you huff, unease creeping back up as he slides your panties down. “Wait.”

“For what?” his lips and tongue are dancing along your collarbone, fingers slowly teasing.

“I’ve got to…” this is exactly why you shouldn’t have let him coax you into the fire. This is humiliating. You try again, “I need to…”

“Oh, this?” he gives the string of your tampon the tiniest tug. “I’ve got it.”

“Oh my god,” you swat at his chest and avoid his eyes, “No, you don’t…that’s just gross…”

Everything stops and he calls your eyes to his with a gentle, hey. “First of all, nothing about you is ‘gross’. You’re a goddess, little star, and this is a beautiful thing. Your body is perfect and sacred, and capable of creating and nurturing life. How could that be anything but incredible?”

“Joshua,” you groan. “Not everything is an acid trip, you know? Calm down, and go take a bath in patchouli and peyote.”

“Probably will,” he nods, circling your clit with a silken reverence. “afterwards. Listen to me though, ancient cultures believed that menstruating women–”

“Don’t ever say menstruating again.” you interrupt, rolling your hips into his touch.

“Hush.” he scolds, licking at your throat. “The ancients believed that due to their connection to the moon and its phases, they held great shamanic power. They were revered and worshiped, they even built them special huts where they could retreat during the height of their powers. Did you know that?”

He pulls lightly on the string again, in silent question, and you give in with a nod. He frees you of it, and you try not to think too hard about it as he tosses it into the trash can beside the bed.

“There we go,” he soothes as his fingers ease inside you. “Oh sweetheart, you’re so warm.” it’s a quiet comment, almost as though he’s talking to himself, then, he continues. “The blood was considered powerful and ceremoniously charged, they used it in rituals, and to heal.”

In a move that stuns you, he eases his fingers out of you and into his mouth, licking them clean with a muted sound of bliss. “You taste so good, you’re perfect and I’d lie at your feet if you asked me to, you fucking goddess.”

A laugh trills out of you. “You sounded so profound until ‘fucking goddess’.”

“Shit…” he shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Almost had it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you breathe as he sinks his fingers back inside your cunt. “Almost.”

“Relax for me, love.” he sounds so calming, lulling your nerves like a familiar song. “Let me make you feel good. Let me take care of my pretty girl.”

He swirls into that delectable spot inside you and you can’t quiet the gasp that escapes you, but he’d give just about anything to listen to that beautiful sound on loop for the rest of his days.

“That’s it, love.” he’s kissing over your sternum, seemingly unbothered that your t-shirt is still hiding you away. “You just lie still and let me treat you sweet. My baby, love you so much.”

You give yourself over, pliant and subordinate. There are no worries in this world he builds for you, there is nothing but Josh.

His hand is working away at you, coaxing you closer and closer, with his fingers curled and searching just right, and the heel of his palm grinding away at your throbbing clit.

“Please, baby…” you’re panting and writhing beneath him like a whore, and maybe you’d try and stop, if only you cared. “Please…”

The tip of his tongue snakes over the shell of your ear. “I love it when you whine,” he sounds fervent and hungry for it, as if he wants your orgasm even more than you do. “Give it to me, little star…give it up. C’mon…”

It blooms inside of you slowly, a peony of pleasure, dewey petals opening up to the morning sun that is his love.

“That’s a real good girl, baby…” he praises, eyes darting from your face as it twists in euphoria, to where his fingers are fucking you through your orgasm. You gush around him, spilling over his skin, like glittering rubies. Garnet mixed with your release, stark against his pale flesh. He thinks it’s beautiful, really…and his chest tightens with a sudden grateful ache– that you would give this to him; this vulnerability.

He has lost himself in the moment, but when you squeeze your thighs together to ward off the overstimulation, he finds his way home to you. When he does, his gaze zeroes in on your eyes, and the way they seem to be on fire as they stare down at his hand.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he teases softly. “See how pretty? Let’s paint, hmm? You can be my masterpiece…my paragon of filth and beauty.”

Your confusion is short-lived as his fingertip skates across your cheek, leaving a streak of crimson in its wake. He bestows a matching mark upon the opposite cheek and then wraps his sticky hand around your throat, claiming you with your own blood while he lines himself up.

“Feel that?” he whispers as he nudges inside. “Gorgeous cunt sucking me right in…wants me so bad.”

A twinge of self-consciousness begins to creep up inside you. You’re wearing your own blood, he, even more so. It covers your thighs, and his cock, and the sheets below you…the shame, unwarranted, but real all the same, is growing hot in your belly and you want it to go away. You want him to make it go away.

“Josh…” you squeak meekly.

You aren’t given the chance to finish your thought. “Shh, little star…you’re so beautiful. My pretty, pretty girl. I love this, to just be covered in you. You smell like shiny little pennies, and you taste like home, and you feel like heaven. I love you, baby.”

He fucks into you harder, in spite of the gentleness of his devotions, and you wrap yourself around him, clinging to him like you may never get the chance to hold him again.

“I can feel you dripping off of me…” he growls, sounding so unlike himself you feel like you’re lying with a stranger you’ve known all your life. “You’re my angel…a fucking diety, my goddess. I love you, I love you, I love…fuck, fuck!”

You’d claim to be surprised if you were a liar, but the man has an unrivaled fidelity to a dramatic monologue, and you adore him for it.

Lifting away from the bed, you prop yourself up on your elbows and stare down at where your bodies are coupled, and the feral gleam in his eye tells you he likes that very much. “Yeah? You wanna watch? Look at that, you’re all over me. Doesn’t it look pretty? That’s your cock, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“Mine.” you nod urgently, the heat rolling and tumbling in your stomach gaining in intensity. “Harder.”

“Listen to you,” he sounds so very proud of your cock-drunk state. “Can’t form a sentence for me, little star? Come on now, talk to me, baby.”

“Close..” you pant, eyes screwing shut as your mouth falls open in a silent cry.

“Mmm…” he hums, like he’s just savored a bite of his favorite dish. “Good girl, good fucking girl. Gonna cum on my cock? Gonna show me how much you love it? Show me, c’mon.”

Tiny puffs of air are being punched out of your lungs with his every thrust.

“Listen to my angel…” he’s losing it too, you can tell by the winded rasp coloring his voice. “Can you do it for me? Please, baby…fucking please…”

It’s like he’s willed it so, your end crashes into you hard and fast, rolling over you like a violent wave..dragging you under until the entire world is muffled and hazy.

You’re cumming so hard, and it’s like a curled finger beckoning him right alongside you.

His whole body seizes up, still and rigid, for just a blink before releasing all that tension with a long, beautiful moan of your name and a string of obscenities.

The life drains right out of you as he falls down around you, both sets of lungs struggling hard to draw a deep breath.

If you could live right here in this moment, you could live happily forever.

He pulls out slowly, with an adorable little shudder of a chill, then his hands find your face once again, “my messy, pretty girl.”

You want to look away, but his stare holds you fast, “Josh, stop…”

“No.” He argues with that beautiful, glowing face of his. “You are. You’re my girl…and you just give me whatever I want. I’m so lucky.”

“It’s because I want it too.” Your confession is so sheepish, you aren’t even sure he’s heard until he sucks into your throat again, muffled, rasping confessions promising a round two that will put the first go ‘round to shame.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @gardenofgreta @greta-van-chaos @theweightofstardust @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @seventieswhore @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @jake-kiszkas-smirk @gretasmokerising @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @tripthelightfandomtastic @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @dakotadovato @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @avagvf @rhythm-of-space @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @agirlwithmanytastes @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @joshkiszkas @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @loofypoofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @saoirsemaeve @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @gretavanflowerpower @mywickeddivinity @calumspretty

575 notes · View notes

skittlesfics · 2 years

Text

Flufftober Day 1 – Wearing each other’s clothes Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Word Count: 2025 Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of extreme loneliness, brief alcohol mention but no usage Author's Note: Playing catch-up now that I have some time. This was supposed to be a drabble oops, but it is by far one of my favorite things I've ever written for Steve. See the full prompt list for flufftober here. Still accepting requests for who to write for each day! -

Steve’s favorite day of the week had gradually shifted from Friday to Saturday over the past year. Friday had been the night for parties, the night for first dates, the night for drives out to lover’s lake, the night for cold beers by the pool, and the night for whispered promises (lies) to push back the heartache. That had all changed, though, along with his friend group and his definition of a good time. Now Saturday was his favorite day of the week, because Saturday was movie night.

It wasn’t that he cared so much about what movies the group actually watched (okay he did care. A lot.) Nor was it the fact that you always brought some exciting new snack or baked good for everyone to try. No, instead it was the fact that Saturday nights were the only time that the museum that was the Harrington house actually felt like a home.

The halls were more vibrant, more warm. The pristine couches (not so pristine after Dustin spilled his Dr Pepper, but that was fine. Steve’s parents would never spend enough time in the room to notice anyway) actually felt comfortable for once. Steve could finally feel at ease with the beautiful cacophony of voices bouncing off the walls, never quite quieting down enough to actually hear the movie. He could feel like he had a real family.

That was why it always hit him so hard when it was over. Every movie had an ending, and half the group had curfews that had somehow become solely Steve’s responsibility to make. You would hang back to clean up while he drove everyone else home, but then you, too, would go. Then the silence would return, and then the cold, and then the loneliness.

Steve couldn’t do that, not tonight. Not when his parents had already been gone for two weeks, with two more to go, and he hadn’t quite been able to schedule any dates to fill the void since the day you had kissed him on the cheek in thanks for something that didn’t need a thanks at all.

When he came back from dropping off the kids, you were humming softly to yourself, picking individual M&Ms from the plush carpet where they had been left to get crushed underfoot after a particularly vicious snack preference disagreement.

Steve smiled at your back, wondering if you had any idea just how wonderful you were, or if that was a fact just for him. Like how pretty you looked when you were embarrassed, or how raspy your voice sounded when you woke up at 4am to keep a lonely Steve company on the phone.

He swallowed that thought, a mix of affection and his usual melancholy at war in his chest. This house didn’t want Steve to have nice things, and your affection was one of the nicest things around.

“Hey, Stevie, I was thinking…”

He was so lost in his reverie that he didn’t notice you stand up, the plush carpet swallowing your footsteps when you approached him. You were just suddenly there and he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was worth the embarrassment when you laughed, reaching out to grab his arm and squeeze. You could scare him all you wanted, if it made you laugh like that.

“Thinking’s dangerous, babe.” He quipped, hiding behind a lopsided grin. You wrinkled your nose and rolled your eyes and he prided himself at his own force of will. It took everything not to kiss you right there, and if he were a weaker man, or perhaps a smarter man, he would’ve done it anyway.

“Oh, shut up. I was thinking,” You continued, your eyes narrowing into a glare, daring him to interrupt, “That I might stay the night tonight, keep you company in person.”

There were no words for the warm melty feeling in Steve’s chest, the way his heart ached and yearned and was content all at once. Or perhaps it was just that the words felt too big for his mouth, too scary to vocalize lest you not feel the same. Instead, he pulled you into a smothering hug, dropping an affectionate kiss to the crown of your head with an urgency he hoped you understood.

“Please.” Was all he could manage, his voice thick with emotion. He wasn’t going to cry, not over a sleepover, but damn if he didn’t come close. He hadn’t wanted to ask, knowing that your parents were out of town, in case you had other plans. The loneliness of his house was unbearable, but the rejection would be worse. This was… perfect.

When you managed to wrestle your way out of his steel grasp, you were laughing, shoving at his arms when he reached for you again. This quickly turned into him chasing you around the living room, your high-pitched shrieks echoing in the empty house as you tried to evade his affectionate embrace. You were fast but he was faster. It was his house, after all, and he was an athlete. You moved to jump over the back of the couch and he grabbed you by the waist, rolling with you so that you were both laying on the couch, your body pressed against his.

You were laughing, breathless, and when you opened your eyes to look at Steve’s face, he was lost.

There was something so effortless about being happy around you. Something so natural about having you around that his general ennui didn’t stand a chance. How could it, when a pretty girl that knew him well enough to offer to keep him company late on a Saturday night was smiling at him, noses nearly touching, eyes wide and bright…

He should have kissed you then. Should have been less of a coward. Steve wasn’t an idiot, he knew what that look meant on a girl’s face, when your eyes flickered down to his lips and then back to his face. He knew that he wanted to kiss you. In fact, he had never wanted anything more than to crush you into his chest and kiss you silly in that moment. But he didn’t.

Instead, he used his grip on your sides to tickle you and you screeched, rolling sideways off the couch, laughter spilling from your lips as you finally escaped his grasp and fled to the other side of the coffee table.

“You’re the worst, Steve Harrington.” You joked. He knew you didn’t mean it, not with the smile still curving your lips and the laughter you couldn’t keep out of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been called worse.” He shrugged, sitting up, “Let’s get you ready for bed before you cause any more trouble.”

“Me?!” You scoffed, arms crossing indignantly. Steve hummed and stood, gesturing towards the stairs with a nod of his head.

“Yes, you. I bet you didn’t even bring a t-shirt. You can pick one from my drawer.”

You narrowed your eyes at his deflection, but still followed him up to his bedroom, flipping off the lights as you left each part of the house. Steve knew he was right. You hadn’t brought anything with you, offering to stay only once you had seen the sadness creeping into his gaze at the prospect of being left all alone once again.

He pretended not to watch you as you rifled through his t-shirt drawer. He was thinking about your lips, and the warmth of your breath across his face making his skin tingle, and your body pressed tight against his, and—He shouldn’t have been thinking about any of that. Not when you were doing him a favor just by staying the night, and certainly not when you were walking into his bathroom to strip out of your clothes.

He took your absence as a chance to change into his pajamas, trying to push away the thoughts of what your kiss would taste like as he threw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. It didn’t work, of course. You were still you, and you were still there, changing into his clothes.

When you walked out of the bathroom, he was sitting on his bed again, propped up against his pillows with one leg hanging carelessly off the side of the bed. He hoped he maintained a normal expression, because he felt his entire universe lurch sideways at the sight of you.

You had chosen an old Hawkins Phys.-Ed. Shirt that was slightly faded from the number of times it had been washed over the year. It was just a grey-t-shirt, but it hung halfway down your thigh, the rest of your legs on full display, and something primal in Steve was screaming that that was his shirt. He had sweated in that shirt, bled in it, cried in it briefly after the bleeding. It was his, his, his, and it was a damn shame that you weren’t too.

He took a shaky breath, and smiled, pushing the caveman thoughts to somewhere they wouldn’t interfere because you were his best friend and you were staying the night to do him a favor and (you were wearing his shirt, holy shit.)

“Is this one okay? Sorry, I should have asked.” You had the audacity to look bashful standing there looking like sex, and Steve had to swallow to keep his thoughts straight.

“No, yeah, it’s perfect! I mean, it’s fine.” He stumbled over his words, cursing himself for the fumble, “I might have to let you keep that one; You wear it better.”

You laughed at that, finally fully entering the room.

It was worse up close. You dumped your clothes on the floor beside the bed and jumped up next to Steve, molding yourself into his side with your legs tucked under you. The smell of his laundry detergent on you made his thoughts race in a way that he might have been ashamed of if he possessed the capacity to be that anymore.

When he turned to make another joke, you were looking up at him through heavy lashes, chin tilted up to match his gaze, still smiling slightly, the ghost of a laugh still lingering on your lips. You were so pretty he could cry and when he instinctively found himself leaning towards you, he found that you were leaning right back.

Steve had wanted to kiss you for so long that he was sure the real thing could never live up to his fantasy. He had never been so wrong in his life.

Your lips were soft and pliant as he kissed you, the warmth of your body against his lighting small fires across his skin. You grabbed one of his arms with yours and squeezed again like you had earlier, pulling him closer to you like you couldn’t bear to be apart. He kissed you slowly, reverently, memorizing the way you felt in his arms, the way your mouth felt against his, the way you breathed when all you could breathe was him. There was a hollow in his chest that was suddenly full of you, all at once, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that going away.

When you pulled away, it was to press a kiss against his forehead, his cheek, his shoulder, his mouth again, and then you were smiling again and Steve just stared, taking you in.

“Thought I told you not to cause any more trouble.” He joked, leaning in to kiss you again, reveling in the way you shivered with delight at the press of his lips, the way you reciprocated without hesitation, the way your grip on his arm tightened when he tried to pull away.

“’m not trouble, Stevie.” You protested. You tried to pout, but Steve just kissed it away until you were laughing into his mouth, pretending to try to shove him away with no real force.

“No?” He asked, earnestly, “what are you then?”

He didn’t think his night could be much better with you so close, lips swollen from his kiss, but you nearly knocked him dead with your response.

“Yours.”

#Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington Imagine #Steve Harrington Fluff #Stranger Things Imagine #Stranger Things Reader Insert #x Reader #Fluff #2000 - 2500 #flufftober2022

440 notes · View notes

bohemian-nights · 1 month

Text

What We May Mend Chapter 6

Word count: ~14,576

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Laena Velaryon

Warnings ⚠️: None

Description: In the year 126 AC Lady Laena Velaryon survives her difficult in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. With a second chance to mend their fractured marriage she and her husband Prince Daemon Targaryen return to Westeros with their children in tow as chaos unfolds around them🐉

AN: I was late coming into this world so I might as well be late updating these chapters.

Laena must deal with the aftermath of the conflict. 🌊

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

“Will you try eating something sweetling?” Laena tried asking the small girl sitting at her side with a smile that was most surely strained, but that could not be helped. Honey skin gone pale. She had not spoken a word since she had arrived at their chambers and that had been hours past now. They had broken their fast, rested for an age through the rising day, and noon had come and gone yet she had remained unmoved.

Rhaena was not a very talkative girl and she was indeed fairly prone to melancholy for a child of her age, but she had never seen her like this.

Just looking at her made her heart ache. Felt her with woe that she wanted to snuff out and replace back with the light of her happy girl.

“Would you like to hold the Aemon?” Bess had brought him in with their breakfast. They had all had their fill. He had been content after. She nodded her head and that ache twisted in her chest when she grabbed hold of the babe.

Daemon had locked them away in their bed chambers. Barred to anyone except their little ones and her parents who were due for a visit.

Laena did not protest against it. She was to be resting. Maesters orders and she did not wish for company or for whatever they might bring. A couple had tried, Daeron muffling some half apology through the door when the maids cleared away breakfast. No doubt prompted by his little wife or his father who had seen sense enough that he had gone too far in his bitterness.

Then she heard a voice that sounded as if it belonged to Ser Criston arguing with one of the men posted at the door. It was difficult to say if Alicent had come with him, she had, but Daemon looked as if he were a cat that had gotten into the cream when guards turned them away though she could not say she had behaved any better when the guards had turned away the shrill voice of her cousin and her brood of miscreants. She was after all the reason why Maester Croton had ordered this new and hopefully brief bout of bed rest. She could not overextend herself conversing with the lot who had put her here.

Besides, the children were all the company she wanted or needed. Gazing upon the small girl staring blankly at the tapestry on the other side of their chamber with Aemon in her hold, the only thing that seemed to placate her, they needed her just as much as she had needed them.

“Would you like a lemon cake?” Twas her favorite. The girl could eat a whole tray if she let her without a care if it caused her stomach to turn well into the next day.

Laena had sent for them in hopes that they would cheer her up, and had even eaten one, to tempt her. Stomaching the tart-sweet with embellishments of satisfaction as she bit into it. It was a small thing to pay Tampering down the need to screw up her nose at the taste, she had never understood how someone could find the bitterness that stuck to the back of one's throat pleasing, but she had downed the little cake in two bites for her.

However, Rhaena looked at the treat in her mothers hands the same way one would look at a sheet of parchment. Bouncing her brother upon her knee with no reflection.

“The weather is decent enough.” Daemon had joined them on their bed to stroke a hand down Rhaena’s cheek. “Caraxes will be growing restless.”

Laena had tried not to let the sight of that distract her. She could not decide if it was a strange thing or sweet.

It was sweet when Rhaena did not flinch away. She did not lean into him either, but it looked natural. Like he had done so a thousand times before. Seeing him speak to her with a quiet voice that was usually reserved for Baela when he wished to dote upon her would’ve made her heart soar.

Mayhaps she would have counted this as progress another time, but his fatherly affections and simple temptations were not the thing that brought her cheer.

Aemon chose then to let out a gurgle. She looked

down at him with a whisper of a smile. It was something. Something that Laena clung to and tried to take hold of and stoke back the fire of life into her, but that too was no use. Rhaena was much more interested in making sure the restless babe in her arms was content than in her father's offer that would bring her own contentment.

“Why do you not go with your kepa Rhaena?” That suggestion did not have its intended effect. Quite the opposite, it only served to push her further away.

The small smile their girl wore faded as if it had never been there. Laena grew desperate to get it back. Trying once more while trying not to loss

“Just you and Kepa while Baela keeps me company. Her attention was drawn to the small babe who had grabbed onto Rhaena’s finger and was using it to suckle on. He would be crying for his noon snack in a few minutes, greedy little thing he was, but for now, he was preoccupied with the diversion

“You may bring Aemon if you wish.” That had only served to bring about a lost look in her eyes. Whispering to her with pleadings that went unsaid, but no less known. You know what I wish for. That unspoken request, but where she would not or rather could not utter it her sister voiced it for her.

“Has Aemond left?” It was said so quietly by Baela that one would have missed it. Odd indeed for their eldest, for she had never been prone to shyness unlike her sister, but there was a reason for the quietness of the query.

She had told them so twice now. Whispered and then when luncheon had been served. “She would like to see him.” Always finding some way to redirect their attention back to this want much to her father's annoyance who was less than amused.

“No.” To both or two either one did not need to ask. Pale green eyes darkened at the onset of the first query turning black and as hard as stone by the second. Leaving no room to ponder over his meaning, but that did little to sway Baela against the topic of conversation.

“He is her betrothed,” she scrunched up her dark brow, silver head high in indignation not used to being dismissed as such. “You and Muna agreed to it, Kepa!” Baela’s irritation increased tenfold at her pleas having been ignored thrice now.

She had never been a patient girl. Requests denied few and far between. He might love all their children equally, but she was his favorite and Daemon was always more than willing to make sure they were met. If she was a more self-involved girl she would've, but she had her moments of unrelenting stubbornness show ever just as she had not been placated by her father's unyielding word so had he not been endeared by her tantrum. Both were as stubborn as the beasts their ancestors had tamed. Laena dared not give voice to that lest they began to spout out fire with objections and as they did too.

“My brother agreed to it pet,” She could see him trying to restrain his irritation. Emotions churning within the man. Annoyance redirected to his brother.

It would have been comical, his eyes knitting together as the tips of his ears grew a light shade of red. flushed with his anger. The look of a little boy dejected on such a matter as a betrothal at his age was comical indeed, but the comedy soon lost all its charm with his next words. “And your mother was led astray.”

Laena bit her tongue. busying herself with petting the back of their sullen girl's locks. She focused on the brush of her hand upon the braided strands. Letting the feel of the wiry curls against her palm calm her though it still took a considerable deal of restraint to keep her eyes upon Rhaena and not turn them to her husband to glare at.

Led astray. If she was led astray what was he?

A man led by his pride. The folly of all men. Her mother's words still ringed around in her head. Maphaps more clearly now than when Alicent’s had come to visit her— yesterday? Only yesterday. Less than a day in truth.

After the night last it felt like a fortnight between the night and day or at least more than a few hours had passed between when they had spoken in private about the betrothals and now. Now Daemon was threatening to undo that work.

Led astray. How in the seven could he say such a thing?

Was it not they, Viserys, her father, and Daemon himself rather than the Hightowers who were the reason why they were in this mess?

They were Targaryens, Velaryons, it was they who made the rules, they who ruled. Had they not been led astray by their egos and ambition for it?

Perhaps it was a bit cruel of her to add him into the lot, true Daemon had a right to be weary after the chaos that ensued in the wee hours of the morn and before that.

He and the hand had always been at odds. Her husband was not an easy man and that uneasiness extended to Otto Hightower, but she knew the discord between them was not all his doing. The man excluded him whenever and wherever he could. Council meetings, political dealings, trade arguments, and the running of the kingdom. Taking a special kind of joy in it.

It was not all malicious. There was a practicality in it. A reason for his methods. For the callousness of it all. Pushing him further and further away from the position he so coveted. There could only be one man at the king's side. Or at least that is how they saw things. A king only had one hand after all.

Ser Otto had seen to it that the man was him and not the king's brother, even driving out her father in the process of trying to remove her husband from being in Viserys sphere of influence, but he was being utterly ridiculous now.

She had made the deal with Alicent. Not her father. He would’ve never agreed to it. He wanted this no more than Daemon. Mayhaps less, for this arrangement would mean a yielding of sorts, a yielding of the power which he hoarded for himself.

Alicent only wished for the power to protect her children. Not power for power's sake. There was no harm in letting their girl see the boy, by the Gods, she would be with her and she’d never let their girl be harmed or abused. Alicent would not harm her and most certainly Aemond would not seek to lay a hand or a word against her.

The boy was not his grandsire. He was not a malicious spiteful creature. He was not some viper waiting in the dead of night at the ready to strike and take what he held dear away from him.

He may come from one, but he was not a Hightower. He was a Targaryen as his father was before him. The same as Baela, Rhaena, and Aemon. More importantly, he was a child. Nothing more than a child with a child’s wants and regards.

He could have shown more tact and forth thought in his quest, but painful as it may be, she could not fault him for claiming Seasmoke when he had. It was as if the chance of claiming him would present and Laenor was gone. Buried at the bottom of the sea and never to ride his beloved mount again, but that slender gray beast that he loved so much was very much alive and a dragon would have its rider.

He was never to not go unclaimed, no one expected that. None could expect that.

Rhaena had wanted him. They all knew that. Twas she who had wished to claim her brother's dragon for her own and therefore it was her opinion and her option alone which Laena cared for on the subject, but their girl was not upset by what was done.

A dragon chooses his master just as much as the master chooses him. Seasmoke had chosen Aemond from forces higher than they were to understand or know as mere mortal men made of flesh and blood. Seasmoke was without a rider The boy had done no wrong in claiming him. He was not spiteful in his doing. He was not petty, certainly not to his uncle or to his cousins, or no matter how some of them may feel about his claim. They had dragons of their own after all and the deed had already been done.

He was a Targaryen and had done as a Targaryen would. He had only taken what he wanted.

Only took what was his and he had hurt no one doing so. had paid the price with blood chiefly his own.

He did not even behave like his father whom her husband loathed and loved so much. Though mayhaps he’d like him better if he was. Mayhaps he would like him better if he was like those other boys who were so favored by his brother. If he had his love he might learn to love the boy himself or he might admire him even if he could see himself in him there was more than enough between them to decipher their similarities, but that did not matter. It did not matter if he liked the boy or loved him.

Rhaena mattered it was her wants, her needs, and her feelings that were most important and if she was this despondent it could only do her good to see him. Could he not see that? See that she was suffering? That she was wanting? It was such a small thing and they could give it to her. An inconsequential thing. There was no harm in it or inconvenience. Absolutely no harm in letting her see the boy.

“Will I marry cousin Aegon?” Baela asked. Snapping her mother from her thoughts. Her brown face now graced the expression her mother wished to make as her father glared at the word cousin though this line of questioning appeared to not anger him so.

She poked her lip out and crossed her arms as she asked. Waiting for some kind of answer that her father could not ignore. She would have stamped her feet in indignation if she had been standing. Impatient girl she was.

“For now.” The words were clipped. Strained as if containing a growl. Two simple words a pain to the lips they had broken free of.

It was not a no at least. It was the best that one could hope for given the circumstances. It was indeed something that Laena could work with. For now could easily turn into a yes when the time came. When he had seen the benefit. And really who else was Baela to marry? Some Andal lord from halfway across the continent? A foreign prince? One of her brother's sons?

Hardly likely on all accounts. Each one was more disagreeable than the last and the last was downright unbearable. The thought that she could make her torturer happy by doing so—

She would rather fling herself into the sea below them with a chain of iron around her ankle and join her dearly departed brother than fold to her cousin turned nieces ravenous entreaties.

They had already made enough concessions to one greedy cousin with Aemon and the unborn babe in Hazel Hearte’s belly or the next one after that if this one proved ill-fated for whatever reason. Though Laena almost had half a mind to climb upon Vhagars back, take flight down to Storm's End, and make a proposal to the great oaf whom her mother happened to share blood with.

By all accounts her Baratheon cousin's plentiful lot, five of them to count and still yet growing, were fine young girls, unlike their bullheaded father. He had a little one who was only a year or two older than Aemon. In due course, she would turn into a perfectly well-bred lady worthy of the title lady of the tides as her great aunt's wife. Borros certainly could do worse than a dragonrider and the lord of the wealthiest house in the seven kingdoms with the largest fleet at his command for a good son. The brother of the future queen. He should be so grateful.

It would be an honor for a second daughter much less for a fifth one and it would certainly help mend the rift between their respective clans, but a promise had already been made. Or as good as one.

No matter how odious the man was whom they had made that promise to, and what great distress he had lent his hand to a promise was a promise. Laena would not go back upon the unspoken agreement just to satisfy her pettiness and there would be no good in it besides extracting some quest of revenge that was entirely unnecessary. Not that revenge was never justified, and most certainly was not in this case, but Daeron could easily be brought to heel the same as any other man. His wants were as redundant and common as the rest and his anger though temperamental and prone to brashness.

However, Rhaenyra’s requests were not as common and rudimentary as mere men and their petty demands. She wanted and she wanted and still wanted more.

Twas not enough to accept. That would never be the She would take a whiff and latch, a bit, whatever they would concede to her and latch like the wild dragons when. she’d devour her whole if she could. She wanted to devour her until, but there had been nothing to find. Her shield was impenetrable.

She and more importantly Daemon had made so much as a hint of such an agreement to her brother's widow and her litter. Laena had seen with her own eyes that ridiculous letter she had sent, turned into ash by his hand a fortnight ago. Last night he had not gone to see her. Even if he had not done as he had, Laena would never make good on those promises or fold to her antics and it seemed neither would Baela.

Their girl hadn't been quieted by her father's word as he had hoped. No, they had only spurred her inquisition on.

“Who shall Rhaena marry? She can not marry Aemon,” Her mouth curled down in disgust as she looked down at the babe in her sister's hold at the prospect. A look she was sure she mirrored. Pulling the blanket wrapped around her tighter she felt a chill going up her spine as she tried to banish the thought away. “He is too little and she can not marry the other boy that cousin Rhaenyra wishes her to.”

The other boy. Laena wanted to cackle at that, but she knew Daemon would take it as a sign that she had been tired out and the children would be sent back to the nursery. She couldn’t have that so she hid placing a kiss on the crown of Rhaena’s locks.

Baela knew good and well who the other boy was, but there was a great deal of comfort in her not naming him. The Gods knew how much the Valyrian lady took comfort in her not naming it. Naming meant something. A name meant personhood. They were more than just some faceless figures. A name meant a connection.

She did not know any of her cousins well or at all for that matter, but she had managed to name Aegon and Aemond even if she did not, but he, her brother's son, was the other boy.

“He is not Uncle Laenors son,” Baela continued, turning to her with that dignified expression which did not quite fit her years. “He is a bastard. They are all bastards, are they not muna?”

She was right of course, more right than Laena would say or than he would admit. Aegon had been right with his assessment of his half-nephew's true parentage. One needed only to gaze upon and then back at the Velaryons and Targaryens scattered about Hide Tide to know they were not as they should be. No true Velaryon would have hair the color of raven feathers, eyes the color of the sky, or noses so common that one could place them anywhere.

Saints above there were low-born bastards in King's Landing on the streets of Flea Bottom or Hull as common as could be who looked more Valyrian than they. Their mothers were whores or the daughters and wives sailors and shopkeepers and yet they had still managed to inherit the visage of Old Valyria

Like black rams among a flock of sheep. It was more than obvious what Laenor’s sons were not sired by him.

But saying the words out loud, confirming who they were, she could not bring herself to admit to it.

Regardless of which loins they had sprung from, they had been Laenors. He claimed them as his own. Watched over them. Cared for them.

He was not perfect, it was not an easy thing, but he loved them.

Mayhaps not as much as she loved her children. Laena often wondered if men were even capable of that kind of love, but it was love, and those boys loved him in return.

It would be almost sacrilegious to not acknowledge it. To disrespect that bond that was not her own or hers to comment upon with Laenor rotting at the bottom of the sea so she froze.

Her mouth gaping open and closed like a fish. Gasping for air as she stuttered. Her brain scrambled for a reply that was appropriate to the girl who had started to smirk beneath what she supposed passed as a pious brown face, but in reality made her all the more impish.

It was little wonder why then that seemed to be the extent of her husband's patience.

A hand rubbed into his brow as he let out a huff of breath. Laena wondered if he'd send the girl for a nap to end her prattling. Thankfully one of the guards, the same boy which he had posted outside their door, knocked upon it and let in one of the serving boys clutching something tightly between sweaty fingers.

Twas a note from her father. Summoning Daemon for some matter which he was urgently needed by the way he spoke with a flurry and by the lines and deep furrows that grew upon his face when he had stepped away into the sitting room to deal with the matter. His animation increased by the second the boy had not been deterred by his barking focused upon the task of getting her husband to heed her fathers message.

The Stepstones if she had to guess the topic of it from the near silent hisses and from the sliver left by the door halfway shut.

Daemon had whispered into her ear when they had exhausted themselves last night. A thought which she had to bite her bottom lip to distract herself as she felt her face grow flush with heat.

It had been a pleasant night. A very pleasant morning, she could almost feel his skin upon hers, his breath ghosting the shell of her ear, and taste the sweetness of his tongue upon her, but the memory of their love making faded with the taste of something more than the bitterness of the lemon cakes upon her tongue when she recalled what would be in that note.

War. The call of the battlefield. That bloody business of men which her father was about to thrust himself within. A necessary evil some men would say how they would rationalize it, but that was not what this was.

Twas his way out of all of this. His escape from dealing with what had happened with Laenor. Which had almost happened to her. He wanted away.

She knew he loved her. That he loved and still loved her brother despite his frustrations with what he felt were his deficiencies as a man. There was no doubt that her mother was the very center of his world. It was not a question of love or his paternal or martial devotion, but her father had never been any good at dealing with his emotions and Laenor’s passing pushed him into the depths of them.

War he knew. A life at sea, with his ships, his crews and his generals traversing the vastness of that sea, journeying to distant lands, ready to take on any foe they might face was what he knew best. What he could deal with.

He was a seaman through and through. Those waters beyond Driftmarks shores were his second home and in many regards his first.

With a sword in hand everything was as it should be. The fractured pieces mending. The blood and the sweat one poured into battle was what he could wrap his mind round.

War had a way of simplifying things. Of making the complicated uncomplicated. It was primal. Raw. life stripped down and bare. The fight for survival and nothing more was all second nature. Comfort. Twas a comfort to Daemon too.

The carnage, the chaos, and the death that would follow it.

Their playing fields were different of course. The skies were Daemon’s domain just as the seas were her fathers, but the principal was the same and they had the bond of brotherhood in arms flowing through them. That camaraderie which seemed to bind men to each other. It occurred to her then that her father would call upon that bond to bring her husband with him back by his side.

Did he wish to leave her too? Go to what he knew best. Go back to a place where she didn’t make demands of him. Where the only obligation was to keep himself alive. Otherwise he could do as he pleased without having his wife breathe down on him. The threat of self implosion reflected back in a brown haze that muddied everything it touched. Did he wish that?

War or not it did not look as if he did not wish to leave. He almost looked pained to have left her side with only the distance of a few feet separating him. Snapping at the poor boy in his company while his sight turned to her. She felt her breath lighten when she met his eyes.

Laena couldn’t bear the thought if he had turned away from her. If his eyes were alight with the call to war and not with an apology in their emeralds depths. If he had not dismissed the serving boy with another bark that sent him trembling, scurrying back to her father with his reply. He joined them again with heavy steps and a sigh.

“Eat something for your mother,” Daemon bent down to place a kiss Rhaena’s head in his hands when he reached them. Bending down to place.

He had not looked this exhausted since Laena had awoken. She could not help feeling a pull within her chest when she saw the hard edge of his jaw softening at their girl.

For her part Rhaena did not lean into his affection. Growing stiff when he placed a kiss into her curls. It threw her husband off kilter. His movements grew uncertain. Arms laying stiffly at his side as if he did not know quite what to do with her rejection.

It was a rare thing for her to receive his attentions. They were almost exclusively reserved for her sister and now Aemon, but today he had given it all to her. If she had been in better spirits she would have lapped it up beaming with a halo around her, but now that affection was like the taste of dirt. Soiled and unwanted.

He turned, but she could only answer him with a small shrug and a softening of her gaze. Petting the girl to calm her. She could not blame her for the small act of defiance. Not after everything. Now then, before. She was a child. Their child, and she could not blame her for snuggling closer into her embrace while she turned her back to her father.

The tension in her small body only left when her Daemon had hastily moved on to place a kiss upon the downy head of her brother and then Baela who clung to him where she. Wrapping her little arms around his head to return his affection before he pulled away to repeat his goodbye to Laena.

“Send for Bess if the little monsters wear you out.” The cod in his voice let some of unease dissipate from the room as his lips ghosted her temple. Eyes drifting over to the silver haired girl sporting a pout and winked at her as she huffed in good natured exasperation.

He was trying at least. Trying for her. for them even if that trying would take a while and never wash away the stain of the bruises embedded within them, he was trying.

The door had barely been shut, Daemon hardly left from earshot when Baela renewed the conversation. Not quite yet willing to let the situation of betrothals and betrotheds be put to rest.

“He said I would be queen,” She had her eyes upon her brother in her hold as she reached out a hand to pet him. The corners of her eyes and mouth twitched in amusement when he nuzzled his head into her palm. She was growing better with him. Gentler. In the same way she was when she and Rhaena had been little and she had taken to her role as elder sister like a fish to water.

Mayhaps she had taken her fathers words to heart and seen sense not to cause her mother further distress with her sister occupying her plate, or rather she did not wish to destress her with sibling quarrels and thought the continuation of this subject was a more suitable distraction.

Laena was more than grateful for the ceasefire of hostility. She would have marveled at it. Wanted to coo at it. Even with Rhaena longing, they were safe.

All her children were safe and sound and she was with them. Her eyes watering as she smiled. She had grown ever so sentimental since she had awoken, every moment all the more precious when one nearly joins the Gods but she kept her endearments close at heart. Part because she did not wish to spoil the moment and part because of the words which Baela spoke.

“He said it was my birthright.”

“Do you wish to be queen?” Laena stiffened as she recalled a conversation not dissimilar from this one with her own mother shifting so she could brush loc away from the girl's face, but she had never been asked such a thing then. She had been told who she was and what she was destined for. She was to be queen and that was that.

She was barely older than Baela was now. Only a girl of two and ten. Still yet to receive her first moonblood. Her mother, but there had never become anything of that. She was not destined to be a queen when it was all said and done.

The only thing which she had become was the Sealords son. A consolation prize and a poor one at that. She could not say that she was upset. Oh the lord had been rich enough and had collected land aplenty to match his fortune, yet his son left much to be desired and soon that fortune went to dust.

Mayhaps she should say she felt some grief when he had been slain at Daemon's hand, but she would be lying if she admitted to feeling such.

It was cruel, but Laena had wanted rid of the boy who bored her to the point where she considered picking out her nails just for some excitement.

She had wanted to be Daemon’s when he asked for her hand. Wanted it more than anything else.

Her father had liked him and her mother did not put up much of a fight when she realized her pleas would fall upon deaf ears, but she was a child. A girl who had yet to have her six tenth name day. A sheltered girl who had never left the company of her parents, her brother, her septa, and her cousins. A girl who had not known what the world was, much less her place in it. She did not know she had choices.

Her girls would have that at least. That she had promised to them and herself. A choice. As much of one she could give them.

“Yes,” she said simply.

I had wanted that. I had not even questioned when my mother said I would be queen. A queen. The queen. Even to a girl was a hard thing to pass on and an even harder thing for her to understand. For a queen was more than just a title and crown. A queen was beholden to the king. Who that king was made all the difference.

“Even if it is Aegon’s queen?” Queen she may be but only the wife of a king. She would have power, but only the power which he gave her. She would never hold more power than him. Dependent upon the whims of her husband.

True enough there would be worse boys to be betrothed to than her cousin. Boys unfit for her. Cruel boys. Men even. Men who had far removed from her boyhood who would want her. The likes of the Lannister twins who had yet to find wives or Lord, Celtigars eldest son. All older than she and the former were rather solipsistic from what she could recall.

Aegon had his merits there. Even though the distance seemed vast now There were not too many years separating them. He was a boy at least the same as her. An gluttonness boy, blinded by greed and vice, he was not a cruel boy. Nor a selfish one. He had been willing to take the blame for his mother.

Of course there was the issue of his drunkenness, but he was young. Young enough hopefully to curb the worst of it and stop it before it took hold of him and left nothing to salvage the same. Young enough hopefully to mold into a decent enough husband where his and in a large regard his uncle had failed. However, once that crown was placed upon his head it was a gamble of what he would become. The Iron Throne had a way of changing the men who occupied it, even those surrounding it.

Aegon claimed that the crown was her birthright and he was to give it to her, but it would simply not be her crown. Not truly. She would bear the title queen and bore him sons but Baela would be at his whim. She would have to fold to whatever demands he made of her the same as any other subject. That was the cost of her birthright.

A queen was not simply the queen. One could never fool themselves into thinking that.

However, to credit to her Baela the question laid before her some more consideration, beginning anew with some hesitation. Mulling over her speech with careful deliberation.

“Yes.” Her head was held high again, nose pointed in the air in a rather dignified manner that made it hard to doubt her conviction. “He is not intolerable. Once one gets past the smell of the ale.” She looked older than a girl of nine with that manner of speech.

Gaining her confidence with each word she spoke. “He is not like his father. He will need help.” As did Viserys though the man did have as they all. “Lots of help and I shall birth the next king,” she looked more than happy at that. Her smile stretched from ear to ear. “It will not be a burden muna. You need not worry.”

Laena burst into laughter at the wide grin on Baela’s face, all too pleased with the level of maturity of that answer and making it all the more comical for her muna in the place of the observer of such behavior.

She could not keep the genuine mirth she felt from radiating out in that moment nor did she think she should. Oh how she had It even earned a twinkle albeit a small one from Rhaena as she hid it behind the crook of her arm she rested her head upon.

Her eldest might have her father's stubbornness and temperament, but mayhaps Daemon was right that she had inherited her sensibilities as well. She would need them sooner than she'd like to think.

Her mother came in not long after for tea as she had so promised. Rhaenys Targaryen almost immediately took up the task of trying to coax Rhaena from her melancholy, regaling her with stories of her own childhood, but her efforts proved to be just the same as the rest. The girl's mood remained steady as the rise and set of the sun. It was clear with each passing attempt that the battle was all but lost.

“She wishes to see Aemond.” Baela whispered to her grandmother as she helped herself to a lemon cake her sister refused to touch. Chewing with her mouth open, most decidedly unladylike, but Laena could not find the will to scold her for it. It was rather endearing despite the lack of manners. It was nice to see the child that she still very much was underneath the airs which she put on and the pure joy she felt towards the sweet.

She liked them as much as the younger girl, but being the gracious elder sister duty bound she always let her have most of the lot. Nothing stopped her now though she had not given into greed. “Kepa will not let her.”

Laena turned to Rhaena who had handed Aemon back to her. Taking a seat at the window as she stared out. Watching the dragons fly around freer than Rhaena restricted by Daemon and his rules.

It came from a good place. She knew it did. Stubborn and prideful as he was he was trying, but her feelings were worth more than his pride. Why should they listen to that ego when she was this way? No she could not placate him now at the expense of their girl.

“Kepa is not here.” What he does not know will not hurt him, she convinced herself. Besides, Laena would tell him—in due course. What was done When Rhaena was well again and they had enough sense and proof that taking her to see her cousin was decidedly not a danger to her and was more alluring to taking her for a ride upon Caraxes she would tell him.

What other choice did she have?

Rhaena would never improve like this. This lifeless creature she had been turned to. Why not give the girl what she wanted? Alicent had not meant her harm and most certainly Aemond would not.

She called one of the serving boys who had brought in their tea over with a wave of her injured hand while continuing to rock Aemon with the other. “Fetch my cousin Damieon.” He owed her. Of course it was not exactly he who had anything to do with her maiming, but he would be more than willing to make up for where his brother had to trampled over.

Laena received a raised brow from her mother at more than just her pick of escort, but she ignored it. Focusing her attention on her youngest daughter who looked more lively than she had a minute past.

“Come Rhaena,” the girl scrambled to her feet with such speed she had nearly knocked the tea service. Big brown eyes full of unshed. Reaching out a hand towards her mother until she put when her

“Perhaps I should take her to see the boy and his mother.” Laena did not miss the way the last word caught in the back of her mothers throat nor the strain in her expression. Mouth thinned to a line and hazel eyes darting and narrowing at her bandaged hand and then back to meet her gaze that was glazed with flames.

It was an expression she knew well. A maternal sort. A protective sort. The kind that growled, bared its teeth and dared anyone who so much as breathed in her direction, with a bark of fire. It made her feel as though she were a child again in need of protection from the ghost and phantom creatures under her bed coming to torment her in the dead of the night. Except that shape now took form in one Hightower queen, but she did not need protection from the source of her mothers wrath.

Oh there could be no doubt that her mother had liked Alicent. Rhaenys Targaryen would never make a deal with someone she did not like, or someone which she thought was a danger to her children and grandchildren at the least. However, if one were to make it past their guards burst through her chambers and ask her who she held in high regard, the Hightower queen would be at the bottom of that list of people she was fond of at the moment. She would come around in time. Stubborn yes, but she was not unreasonable unlike some, but they did not have the time to wait.

The kings party would be gone back to King's Landing in a few hours and with it their chance to remedy this

Twas now or the Gods knew when. Whenever that was it would be too late. Daemon would see to it that distance was permanent. She'll forget about him by the end of the moon Laena, he would tell her. Whisper it into her ear as he had before the morning's light greeted them. All too sure of himself that he knew what was best for their girl and in all likelihood he would be right.

She moped now, but Aemond and Rhaena did not know one another. It truly wouldn’t take much for her to forget about him and think of him no more than wave that came and went. Distractions were easy enough to come by. One trip to Dragonstone an egg placed by her side and her childish fancy would be gone as if it had never been. Daemon would make sure that was the end of it. A dragon's word was final, but he was not the only dragon which she had to contend with, not the most pressing one at that moment.

Baratheon pride in full swing her mother was already sitting up from where she had settled when Laena reached for her. The corners of her mouth perked up and her eyes softened as she tried her best to stop her from protesting further.

“Baela has exhausted herself.” She did not look at all convinced, but Baela seemed to catch onto her plans. Making little sighs as she yawned. Bringing her hand up to her face in mock stifling as if that was not good enough.

She was not a natural born actress, but she tried leaning on her grandmother to feign the appearance of sleepiness while Laena pleaded her case. “I would take her, but it is quite cruel to take her and she does so enjoy her grandmother’s company.”

Laena practically tied herself into knots as she begged her mother with a smile which she hoped reached her dark orbs. Relax. Light, keep your voice light and free of your emotion, she told herself. She will not give in if she thinks you have reached your limit. “We shall only be in the west tower and Daemion shall be with us.”

Please listen. Please.

She did not have it in her to fight this battle. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was still quite tired. Exhausted in fact. The birth of Aemon had taken most of her energy and what little she had gained over the past moon and a fortnight was nearly gone now from the swipe of Viserys blade, but Rhaena needed this. She needed her.

For Rhaena she would don her robes, leave the comfort of her bed and the warmth of her bed to venture into the den of Greens. The den of vipers as Daemon would call them.

What mother would not do that and more for their children? Never mind her own aches, Laena would not be deterred from it no matter how exhausted she felt. She was not truly hurt anyway. Just exhausted and that was no excuse for her to remain cooped up resting upon her laurels in these chambers.

Her mother must have known that there would be no amount of arguing that would change her mind or she wished not to distress her or Rhaena further. Sheletgo of her hand with a pat when Daemion appeared in the doorway. The one perk to everyone treating her as if she were an invalid.

Her cousin must have sprinted to her chamber for he was more than slightly out of breath as he greeted them with a nod barely manhunt to get out the words my lady cousin and lady aunt and a pensive expression, awaiting instruction.

“Send the boy my regards.” Her mother fixed herself back upon the settee. She caught Daemon’s, but hazel eyes shifted their focus back onto Laena. That steely gaze sharp as Valyrian steel as it bore into her. “If she starts to look faint, bring her back here. Even if she attempts to persuade you otherwise.”

Her cousin looked rather weary of the possibility of being charged with such a task and having to face the wrath of one mother dragon and likely another angry dragon and a great sealord if he failed at it, but he simply nodded his head. Not daring to open his mouth to question her command. Gifting Rhaena a sheepish smile instead. One for which Laena was exceedingly glad of it.

A kiss was brushed onto Baela’s cheek and one on her mothers while she ignored the hazel eyes still boring into her own and they were off leaving a trail of skirts in their wake.

The walk was a silent one. The distance between the guest quarters and their tower was not particularly lengthy, but it was long enough to get her bearings about her and for her mind to wonder.

Absent-mindedly her un-injured hand went to the banaged one. Rubbing it as she stared down at nothing in particular. Too preoccupied to notice anything in front of her. Her mind festered with slivers of voices, shouts, screams. Every step drawing them closer.

Even with her mind clouded with her own little worries and anxiousness to see her cousin Rhaena noticed for the little hand that was in hers gave a small squeeze. Smiling up at her it reminded her of Daemon.

Returning it in kind, Stilling herself and finding strength in it. She had no reasons to be nervous. It was she who had been the injured party even if that injury had been intended to her. Alicent owed her a debt It was she who agreed to Alicents deal and would continue to do so.

Two guards, a kingsguard and one of the household guards were posted outside the doors of the guest quarters where Alicents chamber lay. Ser Criston was absent, but Laena suspected the man could be found behind those doors next to the queen. The guards let her in without much fuss. Without a word in fact. Simply stepping back to their posts when the iron creeped as they crossed the threshold. That too she surmised was the queens doing.

It was a good thing that she expected their visit, Laena told herself. It was hope. Hope that things were not so bad in the light of day as they had been in the dark of night.

She had held onto hope too. Letting it guide her here. Turning around to face them before one of the servants could fully announce their arrival as had Aemond. The boy Rhaena did and she was off by the boys side. Her mother who she had clung to just moments past forgotten in favor of her cousin. If this was a vipers nest she had seemed to find a home among them.

“I tried to call upon you, but your guard—”Alicent had reached out a pale hand lined with rings, but stopped herself when her brown eyes caught sight of the bandages on her arm. That hand hung motionless in the air, but Laena would not have. Meeting her the rest of the way. Taking her hand in hers and placing a sisterly pat upon.

“My husbands doing,” and my own, but she did not need to know that. At any rate it was not as if she was purposely trying to exclude the Hightower queen. She only just wished to be left alone. The doors to her chambers were barred to all. Maesters orders. Twas nothing to be ashamed of or apologize for.

Not wanting to dwell on it a moment longer or let the tension fester, she added the truth to ease Alicent’s mind, “Rhaena wished to see your boy.” Her darling girl had begged for it. Refused nourishment for it, refused to even let her own mother comfort her, but all seemed well now.

“How is Aegon?” Alicent had not had time to school her features when she had frowned at the question. Then again the woman appeared to her an open book. Biting her lip or worrying her hands whenever she appeared in distress which was quite often from what little she had observed.

“With my father—he—he has calmed down.” Her eyes flitted over the light chamber. Dark pools searching for something. Someone in her hesitation. Her breath hitched when she met another brown gaze who had been standing sentinel at the children’s side instead of where he ought to be standing guard near the door.

Queen and knight were drawn together as if he too had been searching her out rather than merely executing his duties.

Laena cataloged that exchange, which could not have lasted more than a few seconds, somewhere in the back of her mind for safekeeping, not letting the sight of them take up her attention. However, she did note in that moment that the Dornish man showed the anger the anger must have felt with her eldest which was stifled under a mask of grace and sorrow.

What he had calmed down from went without saying. Hosed down and laid to dry out was the appropriate word for it considering last night. Shame it was for someone so young and in such a state of ruin upon himself.

A light blush overtook the queen's pale face when she noticed her audience. Clearing her throat as she composed herself or tried to.

“How is Baela?” Her brows knitted together as she gazed off at the door swallowing the lump in her throat with a smile that did not reach her eyes painted her face. Mayhaps she should’ve brought her, but it would have been unwise.

The girl did not hold her tongue and would likely say something about last night or her betrothal that she would have to apologize for and there needn’t be any more apologizes she would like to make.

There was no need for what ifs. Laena wanted to put the woman at ease before her.

“As long as her sister is well she is well.” Well indeed by the looks of it.

Laena spied a glance at her girl over Alicent’s shoulder. Rhaena and Aemond had been joined by Helaena. The pale girl had placed a spider into her hands.

She did not think she could be so calm had it been her hand. She would have flung the creature halfway across the room and recoiled against the wall in hopes that would end it, but Rhaena seemed content with her present circumstance. Letting the spindly thing crawl around her palm as if it were a pet and not a pest. It seemed to bring a smile on Aemond’s face as he watched the two girls.

“They will be happy.” It came out without her meaning to. Thinking out loud she supposed. It was the first bout of respite from worry she had for the better part of the morning. Her tongue had loosened along with her mind from it.

Mayhaps it was too soon to tell. Mayhaps she should keep it to herself. Bit her tongue, dug her nails into her stitches, or stubbed her foot, to stop herself from saying so. Mayhaps she should even discourage it.

They were so very young. Younger than Alicent when she had married the king. Younger even than when her own father had tried offering her to that same man.

They had scarcely two years between them. That was much better than any of them.

Though it would become immaterial by the time Baela reached Aegon's age, even they had six years between them. It showed now with Aegon on the cusp of manhood at nearly six and ten and Baela just giving up her dolls, but there was little difference between a boy of ten and a girl of eight.

Aemond had yet to grow hair upon his chest and Rhaena was far from bleeding, but the color had returned to Aemonds face and the light in her eyes. They both looked happy. Content.

They liked each other and by all accounts it was a good match. A fine match. An excellent match. No matter all Daemons posturing and objections, Aemond was a prince. He was a Targaryen. A second son yes, but Laena did not think that Viserys would be so cruel as to deny him a keep of his own nor would Aegon go back upon this promise when he took the throne.

Someplace in the Crownlands perhaps? The Reach? It was far, but Rhaena would love the greenery. Or perhaps one of the smaller isles that remained unoccupied between here and dragonstone. Regardless, it would be a place to grow and fill their halls with the patter of little feet and childish totterings, that is when the time came away and childhood had gone.

There was also the business of them being cousins rather than siblings. That most certainly didn’t hurt. It most certainly helped the Hightower queen.

Of course she knew what family she had married into. it was custom for one to marry brother to sister in their family. One must keep the bloodline pure. Had Aemon been born sooner or had Rhaena or Baela the two would have already been betrothed to each other.

Cousins were a last resort. Not ideal, but better than thinning the blood with those who were not fit to hold the title of husband or wife of a Targaryen.

House Velaryon, her birth house, would usually get that honor when times were desperate enough. They were Valyrian. Had enough, but even with the edition of House Velaryon. The family had always been rather small, but that had changed of late. There had been plenty of cousins and marriages with them.

She and Daemon were cousins, yes, but he was old enough to be her father. He treated her like a father sometimes with his chastisements. Shame to say she didn’t always mind it when he got that way. It was safe. Comforting even. Affection. Anyway she could get it. She had wanted him, she was bred for it, but she was not an oblivious child. could not ignore that.

Lanea was sure that Alicent liked the fact that she would not have to marry her sons to her daughter. Twas a queer custom the other houses never took to. The Hightowers in particular seemed less than enthused to follow their foreign rulers in their strange ways. Even the seven only tolerated it. A mere necessary evil. A necessary compromise.

Their rulers after all were more Gods than men.

They had dragons to prove it, to show for it, that required it, but the practice should not be repeated throughout the seven kingdoms. Not by common men. Not when it led to such unwelcome outcomes and if one were to be truthful, though they may be more Gods than men, the outcomes were not always favorable for them either.

Mayhaps they should end that practice. There were more than enough cousins to go around now. Cousins would do. Velaryons and Targaryens alike.

The bloodline need not suffer for it. Their bond with their mints did not have to suffer for it. The bloodline mayhaps be better off for it. Healthier for it. There was so much sickness. So much madness that went about.

There was something not quite right with so many of them.

Daemon liked to call Daenys mad. They would not be here without her, would have perished with the rest of the old country, but she had been odd even by the standards of their house. Had balked, face turning white as a ghost and then setting to marble when Laena had suggested the name when she had been heavy with Rhaena. She had not brought it up when Aemon was in her belly and thankfully she hadn’t, but were other names shrouded with the madness that plagued their house.

Maegor was undoubtedly mad. His brother was a weakling he would’ve never been long for the world even if he had succumbed to the weight of the crown. Then there was Viserys with all his ailments. His mother Princess Alyssa had died trying to birth another boy for her great uncle. That boy had not even made it to his first name day before he joined his mother.

Rhaenyra’s grandmother had been a halfwit or as good as one. In all regards she should not have been married off her constitution too delicate for it and the business that would follow. Her daughter fared no better. The late queen consort had lost all her babes save her late cousin.

Her grandmother, a hardy Baratheon lady, had only been able to have her mother. She had tried to give her, but her womb never quickened once her mother had left from it. Her mother did not suffer as she had, but Laena could recall once when she had been little and her father. There had been no babes save her cousins that graced Hide Tide after that.

All her babes were tiny things. Even Baela, who had been her most robust babe, was such a little thing. Daemon had even confessed to her when she was still in that he was afraid he might break her if he held her for too long. Then there was the difficulty of birthing those babes. Of Aemon. How that had nearly broken her.

Mayhaps they would be happier without the pressures and strain of having to marry someone whom you shared a womb with. Or at least less madness, misery, and strife could come about from it.

There would be many moons, before anything could come of that happiness, babes included Gods willing, but it was rather obvious. With the way that they leaned upon the other. How it was not a pretty sight, raw and red for and lined with stitches, but Rhaena not a bit afraid of the damage done.

With their shy beams and the sweet little kiss Rhaena had placed upon his reddened cheeks flush with a blush that she, Alicent, Ser Criston, Daemion who was helping himself to a bit of cider and cheese, pretended to not see while Helaena prattled on about her six-legged friends and how they were almost as good a friend as her dragon Dreamfyre.

They would make each other happy. Very happy.

“They will be.” At last the queen was at ease. Returning her grin. Her first true smile.

The sound of footsteps coming from the hall pulled them away from pleasant musings. Standing in the chamber's archway Ser Otto Hightower had arrived at last with Aegon and the new Lord of Harrenhal.

The latter looked more startled to see her than she did him. The my lady and bow he gave her was stiff as a wooden plank, and the smile did not touch his eyes. Downcast doleful, unimpressed by what they gazed at. They reminded her of some of the hounds her uncle had liked to keep for hunts. They were famed for their dullness, but they lacked conviction in their ability to completely conceal his emotions.

She could imagine that he would have begun to grind his teeth if he thought she would not take notice of it, but she would not let his dour face ruin her mood. He could look sour all he liked, she was not his enemy, and in a handful of years time, they would be family. He would learn to live with it. Laena supposed she should be grateful because his presence was benign in comparison to another pair of eyes she felt upon her. She met that stare and regretted it the instant she had.

One would think he would have shifted his gaze to the wall or when he had been caught as he had strike up a conversation to shift away from his gaffe, but Ser—Lord, she had to remind herself that he was a lord now, Lord Larys Strong did not behave as a man who had been caught doing something he knew social propriety would dictate he beg pardon for. He kept on staring as if nothing was amiss.

Laena would not have paid the man any mind, never mind that it was not his place to be here during this private matter. Would not even have minded if he had feigned ignorance as if he had not been focusing upon her, but that stare. It was unnerving. His person was unnerving.

It was not his affliction that unnerved. On the contrary, his foot, the limp, and his hunched gait from said affliction was the least odd thing about him, but pity for him was far from her mind when she met his stare.

He wore neither a smile nor a frown, the expression was nearly innocuous. It should stir no emotions. One should not think, but there was something wrong in it. Something that made her blood turn to ice the more she kept up their contest of stares. That every expression held. Like it knew more than whatever neutrality it tried to claim.

Laena would have thought she had given into paranoia, she was more prone to that these days or she was far more observant than before. However Daemion had begun to eye the man with much suspicion between sneaking morsels of food and avoiding the pet which Helaena was trying to thrust upon him.

No, her eyes did not deceive her.

If there were any vipers, any snakes among them anywhere within this room it was he.

Trying to mask the shudder that crawled up her spine and wanting to escape those pale eyes which followed her, Laena turned to Aegon.

The boy looked as if his spirits had returned to him from the day last. Eyes no longer reddened by whatever he had consumed. The alcohol was gone from his body. They were a nice color. Not the rich brown of his mothers, but darker than his fathers pallid shade that showed the sickness within. Livelier still than his grandsire's dull shade, the man she had decided was all clouds of gray.

His were more like his younger brothers. Clear and calm like the sky on a bright morn.

He did look tired. Dark circles and shadows lined his face, but true to Alicent’s word he was fully conscious of his surroundings. Sobriety was a much more appropriate look for a boy his age.

“Baela sends her regards nephew.” She would look at her as mad as Ser Otto looked at his daughter right now if she were here beside her, but she was thankfully tucked safely away in her chambers with her mother and Aemon.

The boy nodded his head aimlessly. Up and down like an empty bottle floating on the sea's surface. His eyes darted from where his mother stood behind her. Discretion was something he seemed to share with her girl if Laena had to guess or bet a crown upon his query. “Is the child—lady Baela,” catching himself, his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat when he gazed over at the spot she had last seen Ser Criston residing. “My cousin, is she well?”

“Quite well, rest assured.” He nodded again. That cork-like nod as he walked over to where the rest of the children resided. They were getting on sowell.

They chattered away for sometime, Laena made it a point to remain as far away from Lord Larys as possible as did Alicent who stuck close to her side while avoiding the eyes of the viper.

A band of refreshments were sent for while the maids packed, but they began to quiet as the time neared for the king's party to take their leave of them.

It was then Laena decided that they would walk with them to the docks and the rocky outcrops where the dragons called home. A proper send off was owed and more time beget.

Rhaena had seemed reluctant to part from Aemond and he her. Better to give the girl as much time with him as she could Daemon would not be there and her father was often long winded even if he planned on seeing that his brother and the Hightowers had quit their sojourn at Hide Tide.

She had been wrong. Her father was nowhere to be found, but the formidable Sea Snake had not held up the man as she had hoped.

Her husband was waiting for them there by the sea with Baela hand in hand. Rhaenyra was with them, she could not say she was surprised by this, but she did not seem to match each other. Looking the one out of this trio of Targaryens though no less enthused.

A smile was splayed across his pale face. One that Rhaenyra mirrored, however hers, seemed to be more of the genuine variety than Daemon’s.

Petting the top of Baela’s silverhead before moving on to stroke her face. One could almost call it motherly if they did not look upon the brown face on the receiving end of this mothering.

The girl looked to be on the verge of saying something less than pleasant, glaring at her elder cousin, but whatever she planned on saying died in her throat when those dark eyes livened at the sight of her mother and sister.

That smile did not get warmer on her fathers face. Up close one could see the annoyance in his eyes. He was courteous enough though she was sure that show was for his brother. The spirit of camaraderie and goodwill was in full swing for now as he had reminded them, but Daemon would not be the Daemon the man she loved if he did not behave with some modicum of rebellion.

He pulled her into him as soon as she was within each. Like a grubby child who could not wait to get his hands upon his favorite toy. It was entirely possessive, but Laena would have preferred if he had left it there and been content by her presence alone.

“Your mother was kind enough to stay with Bess and Aemon.” He whispered into the shell of her. His breath fanned her flushed skin. Almost as if he was to kiss the sensitive flesh as he had done so a thousand times before.

It was Intimate even now with his restrained ire, but anger was another form of passion. Especially when it came to him. The man was passion itself in all its forms.

Laena was only thankful his voice didn’t carry over their heads. She would have guessed it had, but no one's expression had changed by his display. She did not have much time to be annoyed by his chastisement or feign innocence for they were all quickly drawn to the frail man who they called sire, brother, and husband.

“I expect you in the capital for Jacaerys and Aemond’s name day.” The rumblings of dissent were heard echoing around the dock, but they were stamped out by a flourish of the man’s cursed cane which he wielded like any other scepter.

For a moment she wished she could chuck it in the sea and watch. Would he command them to fetch it for him with that same voice he commanded them last night? Condemning her for it he would probably command that she go into its freezing depths to retrieve his stick.

No, he would not be so cruel, or rather that would not be his chosen method of punishment for her. No, he would simply order her presence by his side at this farce of a feast that he planned on forcing upon them all and make her promise that, Gods willing, if she birthed another babe of the weaker sex to betroth her to one of his grandsons.

“I expect all of you there. We will celebrate both together.” All pretenses of speaking to the crowd were extinguished. The king tried to give his brother a stern eye, but it soon turned into an exasperated sigh when he waved Daemon away and motioned to his guard for support where his stick failed.

“Safe travels mother,” The king, and most of his retinue were out of earshot though Laena doubted the former of the group of men would see the jeer in her tone or care much of it. She would receive no more of a scolding for it than she did last night.

Her words seemed to have struck a chord with Alicent. Striking the woman through and rendering her speechless. Frozen, trapped in a world where ice was growing around her until Aemond broke the spell.

“I shall write to you cousin.” The boy had called out as he had finally parted from Rhaena’s side inbound for his dragon.

“And I you.” If those green eyes could kill. Aemond would have been dead before Seasmoke took to the sky.

“Do not expect to write to you, cousin.” Civility shredded when his mother had taken her leave of them with a renewed vigor was well out of reach to scold him. Boarding the boat with Ser Criston and the snake slithering behind them as much as he could, but his grandfather was not. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck as he hauled him onto their ship. Hissing at him to mind his manners as his dragon flew without him.

Rhaenyra was the one who had broken the silence when ships and dragons were well within land and sea. She had somehow resumed her petting.

“Uncle—”

“Go home back to Dragonstone Rhaenyra,” he smiled. It reached his eyes this time as the corners crinkled with unrestrained amusement. Green gaze shifted from Baela then back to Sunfyre overhead as he grew smaller in the distance. “While it is still yours.”

Mayhaps Laena should have felt bad that her cousin was practically. However, she felt nothing but pure unadulterated triumph. A sweetness she could get used to.

She did not dare hide it. She might have looked like a mad woman as she grinned and grinned at the crestfallen look which boiled over to absolute loathing when Rhaenyra finally caught onto that grin, but she did not care. Not one bit.

Not until Daemon had turned to glare at her was she brought back to her own predicament and the fire-breathing dragon before her.

One could hear one of the pins in her hair drop if she reached for it and pulled it while he yanked her from the docks without a single word passing from his lips. It went without saying that one could hear them after the little yelped at being dragged around as such.

The air stiff with his ire. The journey back up to their chambers was quiet like a growing storm until they reached halfway up the spiral and ordered one of the maids they passed by to take the girls back to their own chambers for a nap.

Baela had tried to protest it but she was ruled down by the iron fist of Daemon’s glare. That look silenced her as the serving girl did as she was told.

Without the children, his stride hastened. Practically racing down the hall as the flat of his nail beds dug into her wrist, having enough sense even in the midst of his choler to drag her back by her good hand.

Laena would have kept going with him leading her like a dog, but his grip was boarding on painful and she detested being led around like a rag doll.

“You are hurting me.” He loosened it in that instant, lacking enough to lead, but he did not utter a word in apology nor did he slow his pace. It would have taken an act of the Gods for him to apologize.

That would not do. He owed her more than silence. He owed her.

“Daemon—”

“Do you know why the maester ordered you to stay within the walls of our chambers, Laena?” He did not even look at her as he said so. Pulling her into their chambers with a small tug upon her arm. She knew she was not to escape his wrath, but when the guards shut the doors behind her the illusion that she somehow might escape if had gone with that quiet thud.

“I am not a child Daemon.” She snapped. Letting her emotions get the best of her. Laena regretted it as soon as she saw that smile across his face.

“You behave as one.” She ignored that. Closing her eyes as she counted to ten. In and out with each breath till she felt that pull to scream at him leave her.

He did not truly mean what he said. Laena knew he was scared more than anything else. For her. For the children and too proud to say so.

“They like each other.” She need not say who they If she had said his name it would only send him further into the fit he was on the verge of. He was in if she were to be honest “Our daughter likes him.”

His smile grew. Cold thing it was despite the way it kissed his eyes. She ignored it. She knew he meant to rattle her, but she ignored him when he petted her like he would Baela. She hated it when he did that. Like she was some child in need of correcting some error. She would have liked his bark more than this. “She likes him husband.”

“He could not take his eyes off her at my brother's funeral.” He had seen that. How his eyes had darted between the dragons flying overhead and the girl at her mother's side. He had wanted both.

Daemon's tongue could speak falsehoods all he liked, but his eyes could not lie. The eyes could never lie. Not to her and not to himself.

“They are children Laena.” Not a lie, but yet still another excuse.

“They will not remain children forever.”

“Precisely.”

“He is not a bad boy,” she tried once more, feeling the words catch in her throat in a strain. “He is your brother's son.” As if he needed the reminder. As if it would even

“He is a mongrel.” It was not shocking, she knew how zealous her husband was about tradition. About their heritage, keeping their blood pure, making sure their girls had appropriate matches, he reminded her incessantly of it over the years.

She was not immune to it.

Laena may not have cared if their girls married as she had, but she did not want them to just marry anyone. She knew how he felt though she did wince at the low growl he let out when he spoke about the boy in such a matter.

“He and his brother, they are all mongrels.” She did not know the pair well, any of them well for that matter, but she knew that they did not deserve that outburst. Not even a boy as wild as Aegon.

“They are your nephews Daemon. Your blood. Targaryen—”

“Half.” He snarled. The words spit out as if they were poison. The thought of it, of them an offense to him

Laena reached out a hand to stroke down his face. It seemed to soothe him somewhat when the back of her knuckles dragged against the vein that ticked ticked ticked away in his jaw.

She could take some comfort that he did not brush her off no matter how his eyes blazed and fire spat from his tongue.

“As am I in case you have forgotten.” She drew circles into the hollows of his cheeks as she felt a sigh breath out onto her fingertips.

It was a poor argument. Even she knew that as soon as it had left from her throat.

Born into house Velaryon she may be, but she was Valyrian. Indisputably so.

Her mother was Targaryen. Her mother's mother was a Baratheon and her mother was a Velaryon. The grandmother they shared. All the ancestors that they shared. Targaryen, Velaryon, Baratheons, it was all the same. It all came back around and looped over and over. She was a Valyrian root and branch. She was the unbroken blood of old Valyria. To Daemon that meant everything and no matter how old and high the Hightowers were, they were not Valyrian.

He would not hear it and so she would have to try again and again until he saw more than blood.

“Aegon will be king and Rhaena does like Aemond Daemon and he likes her.” He gave out an ungallant snort, muttering to himself. Rolling his head underneath her palms in annoyance. "I am not saying it is love but they care for one another.” A childish fancy yes, but childish fancies can become something. Something more. “You can see that, your own brother can see that Alicent can see that.”

What did it matter? They were children and she was not a fool, but love was rarely a thing that was. Love could grow. He could not argue with that.

Daemon had not loved her when they were wed. He could say what he liked to her. That they had liked one another as soon as their worlds collided at her brother's wedding all those years ago, but they barely knew one another.

The man was led almost solely by lusts and a want for a Valyrian bride then. Still, she liked to think that in those early days, he had been especially fond of her when she had given him Baela even if she was not the son he had longed for or she herself was not exactly what he had wanted then.

Even at their worst, he had cared for her. Made sure she was safe and comfortable and that she and the children were well looked after.

Even if had been distant, lost within the demons which swarmed his mind he never had abandoned her, but had he loved her?

She could not say that but she could say he loved her now. However they had begun, he could not live without her without losing himself.

Their love grew. Love was a thing that grew. How could he argue with that, but a man’s hubris was not so easily a yielding thing, love be damned.

“Alicent does not care-” She would not let him finish that train of thought. Bringing her hands up to cup his face. Allowing her thumb to graze his stumble-coated cheeks, coaxing him to relax as he would her if he had any sense and was not blinded by his pride.

“Alicent cares for her children.” She was a mother. Laena knew mothers. She knew better than Daemon. “She would do anything for them.” It is why she had been desperate enough to seek out her mother. Why she was so willing to betroth her sons to their girls.

She was not naive. Sure they were lovely girls, but the advantages they brought could not be overlooked. Dragons and battle-tested riders. Driftmark its wealth and the Velaryon fleet.

Even Daemon had got her dragonstone in the course of a few minutes all without having to raise a single sword. Viserys may be a man prone to prioritizing his eldest, but he would hardly go back upon his word once given it and he would not deny Daemon or something so miserly after all this time. What was the betrothal of his sons he had overlooked to his younger brother's daughters that would inherit no title or lands now with a younger brother to inherit to him?

Oblivious fool as he was, by the time he realized its value, their value, he would be gone from this mortal realm and Aegon would be placed upon his throne.

“She wants them to be safe.” He huffed, it reminded her of a bull stalking his target, but he did not charge. Glaring at her, but no word in contradiction passed from lips drawn into a thin line.

Safety. The girls provided that. Safe against Rhaenyra and her need to consume everything in her path while her sire let her go on as she pleased. Safe against Daemon and his bloodlust and puerile grievances from a lifetime spent in said man’s shadow. The man before her could not be a threat if their daughter was married to the crown.

The man before her scoffed once more, but she could see that flicker of light. A last line upon his softened sometime as he gazed down at her. “She wants to protect her children. She will do anything she can for that.” She should not even have had to say so, but the man was so blinded by hatred for his own blood because of the woman who had borne them. How could he hate them when they had the same? The same blood their children shared.

“Do you not think she can not see your own desperation?” It was not cruel as only a few seconds, the venom was all but gone, but there was still that doubt. Still, that simmering magnum that fueled him with so much rage deep within his core and separated him from her was there. Just below the surface under the cold, but there nonetheless.

“I wish for your happiness Daemon. It is the very air that I breathe. The air which I survive off of. I live for you. Your happiness and the children’s.” That stopped him as good as if she slapped him, but she couldn’t have been kinder. Sweeter. Full of honey. He liked when she was sweet and she liked being sweet to him, but she needed him to understand her and not behave as if he was a child having his toy taken away.

“If that is my desperation and Alicent should see such then so be it, but do not pretend as if everything I do is without thought to you and our children.” She held him fast in her grip. His thumb had begun to draw circles into her wrists, but she had not felt that gentle touch trying to pull her into him to anchor her.

An urgency came about her that made her do so as if he might slip away like grains of sand between her hands. Gone to the storm that always seemed to surround her.

“Your daughter will be queen. Your grandson King. The uncontested heir to the Iron Throne.” Not the son of a bastard. The legitimate son of the rightful king. The blood of old Valyria reflected through and through. Unquestionable. Unimpeachable. “Alicent is a means to an end if she wishes to be blinded by her perception let her. Her desperation is not our own.”

“Lanea–” She would hear no more of it.

“I do this for your legacy Daemon. Your—”

“Our legacy.” His hands now cupped her face as he met her urgency with his own. The sand stopped. It turned into something solid. Something that could not easily be blown away with the change of the wind.

He kissed the tremble from her palms. Her cheeks which she had not known were tear-stained. Her temple lined by nerves.

Anything within reach. anything to bring her back to him. “Ours Laena.” He whispered onto her brow hands now caressing her back as he swayed her to and fro. She did not mind it. It was better than an I am sorry sweet girl. Sweeter.

She had forgotten he could be sweet too. Kind to her.

Ours. Not his or hers. There’s. It was better than maybe. She could work with that. She could do with that.

Their daughter would be queen, her son, their grandson, would sit on the Iron Throne, and Rhaena would have Aemond and everything she wanted. Laena would see to that. They would see to that.

“Any other requests you should wish to make of me dearest wife.” His eyes had gotten that mischievous glint in them again as he pulled ever slightly to gaze down at her. Playful. Riant and something more yet.

She had just one request.

One which he had never acquiesced before, but he was trying. Trying for her. For the children. For them. Laena bit her lip. Parting them as she felt air fill her lungs. Rush through her whole body with its exuberance.

Surely he would abide by this simple request for she knew not what he would do if he did not, but something in that smile, in the light of those green eyes which she knew better than her own the ones which their son had inherited told her she would not have to know. She would never have to know.

“I do not wish you to leave with my father.” He grinned. Beamed even. Rare and entirely for her that the light grew kissing the corners of his eyes with lines of life of hope.

“I was not planning to.”

Ao3 Link:

#daemon targaryen x laena velaryon #laena x daemon #daemon x laena #daela #daena #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #laena velaryon #daemon targaryen #bnhotdfic #asoiaf fic

21 notes · View notes