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themotherofblood · 1 year

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Can I request a Daemyra X daughter reader. Readers really quiet and barely talks to anyone even her parents. So Daemon and Rhaenyra are suprised when she comes to them all hot and bothered babbling about sex and such. And she tells them she was reading in the library and found a book about masturbation or something and she tried to do it but it didn’t work.

Breastfeeding and of course mommy/daddy kink

heheh this one is so filthy, YALL did not hold back!! Just by description whoever is reading; you already know it’s taboo as fuck, I will post individual warnings under here. Istg if I get one single ask saying you are so disgusting. I going to wish you eternal diarrhea for life 🤍

Masterlist

Dark!Daemyra Targaryen x Daughter!Reader

major tw: incest! infantilism, lactation kink/breastfeeding. major mdlg/ddlg vibes. lots of clit play (LIKE A LOT) squirting, kinda dubcon-ish, age gap and purity culture and aftercare because I’m not a monster

If this isn't your cup of tea, I have others, do not come at me :)

Rhaenyra had sat the court in her own chambers with her husband, Daemon looked behind her chair as they converted with their vassal lords at Dragonstone of politics and economical benefits and more mundane businesses of fixing toeholds and inkeeps. Their children undoubtedly had all been out dragon riding, all expect one. They were sure she was hidden somewhere deep in the libraries of Dragonstone.

You were one of true beauty, fathered by Daemon on some tavern wench; when he found out about your existence he had brought you back to Dragonstone as a babe after you had been legitimized by Viserys. A quiet mouse in the claws of dragons, a mere girl of eight and ten. You never said much or spoke over a whisper, an angel child with silver whisps of the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra had always been taken with you; her own children ran such a muck in her household that having one that sat still for hours at an end was a blessing by the gods.

“The Queen Alicent hopes to find a match for Lady Y/N,” The maester said hesitantly as he placed the parchment by Rhaenyra.

“Oh fuck that, she isn’t going anywhere.” Daemon barked.

Rhaenyra considered the possibility, you were old enough to be wed and yet she feared that your quiet demeanour would be squandered under the weight of a loveless marriage; Daemon was right, you could remain here where both Daemon and she could protect you. Such a sweet thing out in the world, it was cruel. The council dispersed as Rhaenyra lounged with a warm cloth on her swollen breasts, milk making them sore as baby Viserys had already been fed.

Then in walked Septa Marlow, her veiled face that remained pinched as always and her unkindly eyes looking furious as you- their sweet daughter followed behind with your eyes fixated on the ground.

“Your grace, your grace,” She offered her courtesies to both Rhaenyra and Daemon. It wasn't unusual for her to complain about the princess’s children. However your guilt-ridden face was a rare occurrence.

“What has happened?” Rhaenyra asked, looking to her teary eyed daughter.

“I had found the princess in the library reading- reading filth!” Septa Marlow hissed “Enganging in sin!”

“What sin?” Daemon perked up, rounding the table to lean against it

“Must- must I elaborate my prince?” Septa Marlow grew uncomfortable, fumbling to find words.

“You come in here, accusing my daughter of something. Speak it plainly then.” Daemon said, unimpressed at the the Septa’s chaste words

“She- she was coupling with herself.” Marlow looked as though she was ready to grace the gods. Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to you, tears of shame fell past your eyes as they remained fixated on the stone floor. You refused to look at your parents.

“Thank you for your report, leave us,” Rhaenyra commanded. The septa took her leave, closing the door behind her with a thud.

There was thick silence that followed, leaving the room in a delicate situation.

“Y/N, look at me.” Rhaenyra said, shuffling further into her seat. “What do you have to say for yourself.”

“I- I was looking for newer books,” You began stammering, your voice, as usual, was barely over a whisper “I couldn’t help it, I felt warm and the book said- I am sorry mother, I am sorry.” Your bottom lip wobbled as guilty tears coated your face.

Daemon’s eyes softened, looking at his little girl sobbing for apologies as if you had stolen candy, such a good girl and the poor thing had not a clue of why you felt what you felt. Daemon pointed to the vacant chair next to Rhaenyra for you to sit. You sniffled, still refusing to look at Daemon as you sat on the chair.

“You are growing sweet girl, it is only natural you feel such urges,” Rhaenyra cooed as she tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. Daemon knelt down to match your height, wiping at the tears coating your reddened cheeks

“No one shall punish my zaldrititos,” He said in attempt to stop your silent cries, you kept shuffling in your seat; yanking at your skirts and yet the fear- more so the discomfort from your face just wouldn’t fade “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I-it hurts,” You whispered as your eyes closed in shame again.

“What hurts?” Daemon asked once more, looking over your body to find any visible mark, if that hag of a Septa laid a punishment on you without him knowing; Caraxes was sure to have a fine meal for supper tonight.

“My- my...” You shuffled more, pulling at the skirts around your crotch, it was only then it dawned on Daemon before he looked back to his wife. His heart filled with fire for the girl’s frustrations.

“You didn't peak, did you zaldritos?” He said with adoration in his voice as he caressed your cheek. She looked up at him, teary-eyed and confused “That warmth in your belly like a sneeze stuck in your nose?” He watched as your eyes pondered his explanation before you shook her head.

Rhaenyra tutted behind him, “Oh, you poor thing.” She got up, offering his daughter her hand. You followed Rhaenyra as you were led into their bed chambers. She helped you onto their martial bed, your feet dangling of the edge as you fiddles with your fingers.

“Won’t you show us where it hurts?” Rhaenyra urged.

Daemon nearly felt his cock twitch in his breeches as his wife coaxed his daughter to rest against a mount of pillows. Daemon cleared his throat as he walked to the bed. His daughter’s eyes were nervously darting between him and Rhaenyra; your breath quickening as Rhaenyra pushed your pretty white sandals off.

“Good girl, just let mother take care of you,” Rhaenyra said in a sing song voice, she pushed your legs to the side; making you lift your hips to the bunch your skirts by your hip. Tears of embarrassment began to pour from your eyes yet again.

“Oh- that old hag didn’t even let you put your small clothes on,” Daemon shook his head, breath hitching as he looked right at the glistening mess in between your legs; he moved to kneel right by you as he urged Rhaenyra’s to console their daughter. “That does look painful.” He tutted.

Your pink bloom shielded by a dainty mound of white wisps, groomed to perfection to be a proper lady. He let a finger trail around your outer folds making you shudder. “Show kepa how you touched yourself.” He said stroking your inner thighs.

You nodded in disagreement, trying to hide your face at the crook of Rhaenyra’s neck as you sat flush between his wife’s legs.

“How are we to help you if you won’t show us sweet girl,” Rhaenyra kissed your temple as she guided your hands to your folds. “Be a good girl, show us.” Your dainty fingers began to hesitantly rub at her glistening petals.

You nearly wanted to be swallowed whole as you averted your gaze away from your kepa, small mewls and whimpers pouring from your lips that set both Rhaenyra and Daemon’s blood on fire. The frustration in their daughter's eyes grew further as your hips began to grind against your hand, a fruitless effort at best as your nimble fingers grew tired. He watched as her bottom lip wobbled again as angry tears began to flood at your eyes.

Daemon stopped your hand, his much larger one engulfing yours, fine little princess had not a clue about eliciting pleasures from one’s body.

“There is something wrong with me,” You whimpered to which Rhaenyra immediately differed.

“There is nothing wrong with our little girl, you just require a demonstration,” She cooed, reaching forward to wipe your tears. “Watch your father, he shall make it all better.”

Daemon made you stick two fingers out, your pointer and middle and gently placed them above where you had been caressing. You were confused until he pushed down on your fingers making you gasp, that’s where it was- the aching throb that bother you for hours as you read that God-forsaken book. Daemon smirked at your reaction as Rhaenyra placed more kisses at the side of your face

“Now gently begin again, darling.” Rhaenyra whispered in your ear.

“Yes, mommy,” You replied, much like as she taught you to write when you were little or took you dragon riding.

You began to rub the right circle above the please-inducing flesh, following the slow motions your father guided above your hands. Your toes curled, finding comfort in the gentle stroke on your arm and legs by three hands. You bit your lip hard to muffle the moans threatening to rip through.

“Ah uh- let us hear them little girl,” Daemon reached forward to pull your lip from you teeth. “That feels much better, does it not.”

You eagerly nodded “So good daddy.” You squirmed in your mother’s hold.

Both Rhaenhra and Daemon took much leisure in hearing you moan and whimper for them, a girl that barely speaks a word to them was wantonly moaning and replying to every word they uttered to you. A subtle panic ran through your body as you get that warmth build in you belly again, for whatever awaited you on the other end never seemed to come to you. Both Daemon and Rhaenyra felt your body seize.

“You must soften your body, just as you relieve yourself in the morrow.” She said, rubbing at your arms. You free hand parting away to take ahold of something, Daemon reached forward, entangling your finger in between his.

“Let go, zaldritos- be a good girl,” He cooed, some string in your mind snapped over your father’s command and you felt the tingles trapped in your swollen nerves spread through your body as you shrieked. Daemon hand held onto your tight as your body shuddered through it pleasures.

You could feel yourself look back to consciousness where everything didn't sound so muffled; you could feel your kèpa petting your hair and your muña peppering kisses down your neck. You blinked your eyes open, still breathing heavily, a lazy smile spreading over your lips her your cheek burned in humiliation over how you came undone for them.

“Must have felt so good,” Rhaenyra hummed as she lifted your fingers to her mouth and suckled on them before letting Daemon savour your taste.

“Mhmm, such a glorious delicacy,” Your father cooed at you.

You felt him shuffle lower, his breath hitting your sensitive mound as your eyes shot open. “So sensitive,” He used his thumb to gently circle your peaking bud from its hiding. He pushed your folds further exposing the reddened bud to the known world. “Such a tiny thing giving you all that pleasure,” He tapped at the exposed bundle of nerves making your jerk against Rhaenyra’s hold.

Daemon looked up, giving you a hardened gaze of a warning. Your father wasn't a strict man, and yet you always wanted to please him. You followed the rules, you finished your meals whole and went to bed at a proper hour; you under no circumstances wanted to anger him.

He let out a cool blow of air from his lips right onto your nerve, making you dig your hands into the sheets to not flick away from him. “It still looks frustrated, does it not Rhaenyra?”

“Yes, yes it does.” She agreed with her husband, letting her soft fingers pad at your nerves, you pathetically whimpered at how sensitive you were but did nothing to fight her advance. She began rubbing circles at your clit once more as Daemon rested on his knees, watching your untouched weeping hold clench and relax over the ecstasy you were in.

“Is your muña making you feel good?” Daemon asked, his fingertips still caressing your legs.

“kessa...Kessa!” You shrieked as Rhaenyra began to rub at your nerves faster, your legs tightened trying to fight the oncoming surge of sensations. The overwhelming sensations again began to water your eyes as you clothed onto Rhaenyra’s arm for dear life.

“Ah...there it is- such a good little girl,” Rhaenyra praised as your cunt spasmed, your legs shaking as your peak consumed your being yet again.

Daemon’s fingers yet again found your cunt, spreading your lips apart to admire your quivering little num, his fingers flicked at the flesh as you still recovered from the aftershocks of your second peak, you fought against them this time; your pussy was unable to take any more of this torment. Daemon pointed at you.

“Kepa deserves a turn, does he not?” He cooed, you still squirmed under his hold trying to wriggle yourself free “Whether you want it or not little girl.”

“One more riñītsos,” Rhaenyra kissed your cheek.

“Daddy- I will die,” You exaggerated, frightened tears spilling from your eyes as the tingles running through your nerves became far too over powering

“You won't die silly girl, kepa and muña will never let you die.” Daemon chuckled, Rhaenyra pushed forward to his down your abdomen as Daemon clutched a tight hold under your knees as he prepared to feast on his babyslut’s cunt. That quivering red little rosebud just begging to be in his mouth. He spat on your cunt before latching himself directly onto your bundle of nerves.

This time you screamed, the loudest anyone might have ever heard you in your lifetime. Rhaenyra consoled you, pampering your skin with her lips as she whispered words of encouragement in your ear. Just as a mother specified its child, Rhaenyra pushed the fingers she used in your cunt in your mouth; muffling your desperate cries as you suckled on them; tasting the sweetish sour slick on her fingers.

Daemon pushed your hood out even further flicking his tongue right under the hood, making you cry louder “Aw riñītsos, is that the very tingly part, is kepa licking your sensitive bit?” Rhaenyra shuffled the top of your gown down, letting your perky breasts spill free. She rolled your hardened pebbles in between her spare fingers. It was far too much, you were going due, you were sure of it. You tummy hurt from his hard you were clenching.

Daemon wanted nothing more than to feel his fingers in your untouched velvety core, yet he wanted your maidenhead unspoiled; something he planned on claiming him on a later occasion. Perhaps your forthcoming name day, he would pamper you old day just so he could watch your little body sob underneath him.

Daemon tapped at you clit “So tingly all over,” He piped, mocking your tears before rolling the nub in his fingers “We are making you feel so good, what do obedient ladies say sweet girl? What's the word?” He gently pinched at the red nerve. You were trying to muster the word at the tip of tongue yet couldn't over the incessant mocking.

“Aw, my love- her little nub is so red, our princess is so sensitive isn't she.” She pinched your nipples harder.

“What the word zaldritos?” Daemon laid a spank on your mound making you scream out the word over your mother’s fingers

“Thank you, thank you- krimvose,” You sobbed,

“Good girl,” Both Daemon and Rhaemhra praised in unison as kepa began rubbing at you clit harder before latching himself on one last time.

“So many tingles- I know, a few more,” Rhaenyra held on tighter to your thrashing “Oh dear- there- oh look at the mess riñītsos!”

Your peak gushed all over the bed, coating Daemon’s mouth as your eyes rolled back. Your chest rapidly rises and falls. You were dying, you were sure of it. Daemon and Rhaenyra at both smiled at each other triumphantly as their parental instincts took over.

Daemon lifted his tunic off his body, using it to wipe at your drenched thighs and mound and helping Rhaenyra off the bed and onto her cushioned arm chair before gently placing you onto her lap. He wrapped the two of your with a blanket before yanking the wet sheet of their bed and crumpling it to the floor.

Servants began to pour in to find a perfect picture of a family where a daughter took comfort in her mother’s arms before bed and the father readied himself for bed. He had them rekindle the fire for you, even with dragon’s blood running in your veins you were some how always cold. Only once the servants took their leave, Daemon kneeled at your level as both him and Rhaenyra fussed with your gown.

“You were so good for us riñītsos,” He cooed as he helped you stand, he yanked once more on your gown; letting it pool by your feet.

You rested your weight against him as Rhaenyra ran a warm watered cloth against your body, she reached in between you legs to clean and you whimpered

“I know, sweet girl. Almost done.” She coaxed.

“From now on, whenever you feel the tingles. You come straight to us zaldritsos.” Daemon said as he caressed your head against his shoulder, you lazily nodded “Words, my girl.”

“Come to you for tingles.” You mumbled.

Once all was said and done, Rhaenyra found a solution for her swollen breasts as you regressed further, she freed a breast from her sleep shift, opening her arms out in bed for you to lay in. You lazily latched at her nipple as spurts of sweet milk filled your mouth, you hummed; hungrily drinking from her as Daemon undid the bed curtains before joining his girls in bed. He picked out a book; one of your favourites for him to read out for you.

That night you dozed in between you parents arms, tummy full of milk as your mother cuddled your bare body from one end and your father from another.

It was an unsaid rule, parents never pick a favourite child and yet it would be written in history that their riñītsos was definitely the golden girl.

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iwritefandomimagines · 4 months

Text

BLIND DATE — JAMIE TARTT

masterlist

pairing: jamie tartt x reader

description: you and jamie never saw eye to eye. when keeley offers to set you up on a blind date and it’s him that turns up, you’re irritated. but you’re soon to find out that maybe she’s right… maybe he has changed.

warnings: enemies to lovers if you squint bc there’s not much angsty content it’s more implied, swearing, alcohol consumption, fluff at the end because that’s my mf baby

author’s note: i live and breathe enemies to lovers jamie tartt content so this is sooo self indulgent and fluffy ish at the end.

———

“You have got to be fuckin’ kidding me?”

You’d already been reluctant when Keeley Jones begged you to let her set you up with someone she knew.

Your best friend had been going on at you about needing to ‘get yourself out there’ for ages now — and the only reason you had given in to her request was so that she’d back off a bit.

But now, as the one and only Jamie fucking Tartt approached your table, your dress felt especially clingy and your palms felt especially sweaty.

“Y/N,” Jamie smirked, having always enjoyed getting under your skin, “You look fucking stunnin’, and really fucking happy to see me.”

You rolled your eyes as he sat down, “Why the hell would Keeley set me up with you of all people?”

Jamie pushed his hair out of his face, and you couldn’t help but take his whole look in as he removed his jacket and adjusted his shirt.

Okay, he may have been a massive prick — but not even you could deny that he wasn’t exactly a chore to look at. Just a chore to listen to.

“See, Y/N, I hear ya voice complaining,” he quipped, leaning forward to rest his chin on his palm as his other hand waved over a waiter, “But you’re still checking me out. Like what you see, eh?”

Before you had a chance to snap back at the walking irritant in front of you, the waiter was at your table taking your drinks orders.

A large glass of wine to cool your nerves would do nicely was what you had decided before he’d arrived — but now a bottle seemed more appropriate.

Of course, when you asked for this Jamie just smiled smugly, “Yeah, you know what? Me ‘n the lady will share. Bring us your most expensive bottle of Pinot Grigio, yeah?”

You tried not to cringe at his mispronunciation.

You sighed, sipping at the table water you’d already been brought as the waiter nodded and rushed away.

“Now where were we, love?”

“You were being arrogant, I was still trying to figure out how I’ve ended up sat opposite you… Just like old times.”

Jamie scoffed, “Oh no, I was simply observin’ that you checked me out. Don’t worry, love, I was checking you out too. Like I said, you’re stunnin’.”

You hated that he could so obviously see his words had affected you — a crimson blush immediately staining your cheeks as he quirked his eyebrow in acknowledgement.

“I can think that you’re attractive and still think you’re a prick, Jamie,” you shrugged, a small smile on your lips as he screwed up his face, “I do have eyes.”

He licked his lips, “See, makin’ progress already. Never admitted you fancy me before, but if it helps, love, I fancy you too.”

You scoffed again, “I said you’re attractive, not that I fancy you.”

“Same thing,” he shrugged, leaning further forward, “Look, I know you think I’m a twat, but I’ve been working on how not to be.”

You looked at him for a moment, not sure what to make of his words.

He’d always been an egotistical arse, always convinced he was God’s gift to earth, and his shameless flirting whilst also being an arsehole had always just grated on you.

You’d had some semblance of a crush on him once, almost admiring his confidence (and of course how gorgeous he was) but his attitude had led you to a prickling disdain for the man instead.

He knew he got under your skin, so he would flirt outrageously and nitpick at things you did and said to piss you off and rile you up.

Keeley had insisted he took the whole childhood ‘if they’re mean to you they like you’ bollocks all too seriously, but you’d brushed that off considering the fact that he was still very much lapping up any and all female attention he received elsewhere.

Given that you only attended events as Keeley’s friend, it hadn’t been hard to avoid him since — deciding that it wasn’t worth letting him get to you.

“So Keeley’s been saying,” you narrowed your eyes, “I know you flirt with, like, anything that breathes, but I’m surprised you’re not more disappointed by her decision to set us up.”

It was Jamie’s turn to scoff now, his eyes never leaving yours as you felt suddenly shy under his close watch.

“She didn’t set us up, I asked her to.”

You furrowed your brows, confused as to why the fuck he’d do that. Sure, he’d flirted with you before but you were certain it was just to piss you off.

“What?”

“I knew you didn’t like me, ‘cos you only know the old Jamie Tartt,” he pouted, and you fought the urge to chuckle, “So I asked her to pretend it was just some mate of hers she wanted to send you on a blind date with. Just to see if you’d give me a chance, ya know?”

You were almost touched by his words, but still remained wary about his intentions, “Why— what made you that determined for a date with me?”

He laughed, a big loud laugh that drew the attention of many surrounding tables.

The waiter returned now, interrupting you again.

He poured you both a glass of wine and placed down the wine cooler as you and Jamie thanked him whilst never looking away from each other.

“For the third time tonight, you’re fuckin’ stunning Y/N. And I like that you never took my shit back then. Just figured it was time to try me luck and see if ya’d change your mind about me,” if you didn’t know him better, you’d think he was nervous, “‘S why Keeley’s been talkin’ me up to you so much. She’s known I’ve had a thing for you for, like, ages.”

You were gobsmacked — not only by his confession, but the sincerity his voice held.

“Why’ve you not reached out sooner, then? I haven’t seen you in months, not since the last charity gala,” you bit your lip.

You remembered that night very well, given that you’d almost shared a drunken kiss with him until you came to your senses and left the party.

He only smirked again, “You remember the exact last time we saw each other, huh?”

“Jamie…”

“Alright, alright,” he raised his hands in defeat, “I was gutted you didn’t kiss me at that party, even though it’s fair that you didn’t. Keeley told me you deserved better than how I’d been treating you, but that she knew if I got me shit together we’d make a good couple. So I waited ‘til me shit was, well, together. And now here we are. With my shit sorta together.”

You were almost speechless, “Jamie— that’s, well, that’s actually really sweet.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, “Glad ya think so, love. Been hard as fuck and I’ve almost called you a fuck load of times, too, but Keeley and Roy have been really good with helping and that.”

Now you were really surprised, “Roy’s been helping you work on yourself? Fuckin’ hell, things must have changed since I last saw you!”

Jamie laughed, pursing his lips as he shrugged and let out a breathy sigh, “He won’t admit it but we’re, like, friends now. Don’t tell him I said that though. He’d go fuckin’ mental.”

“Oh I know,” you chuckled, “But I hope you’ve been doing this for yourself as well, not just trying to change to make other people happy.

The smile on his face spread warmth through your chest, and you could feel the walls you’d built up to protect yourself from Jamie’s old self beginning to crumble.

Your face was lit with a smile now, a wide and sincere smile that you could tell boosted his confidence about this whole elaborate plan.

“Nah, it’s been good,” he nodded, “And you’ve never smiled at me like that, not even when we first met and you were trying to be nice before I fucked things by being all Jamie Tartt. So I’d say it’s, like, more than worth it, to be fair.”

Your smile only widened at that, and his matched it almost exactly.

“I don’t even know what to say at this point, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not actually glad I’m here now,” you bit your lip, maintaining steady eye contact with him and placing your hand on the table.

He was quick to place his own hand atop yours, “‘M really glad to hear it, Y/N. Can we treat this like a fresh start or whatever? Like a real blind date? Want to show you I’ve changed properly, that I’m a new Jamie.”

You giggled, poking your thumb out to rub the back of his hand with it, “Sure. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, and it’s nice to meet you. Sorry if this is forward but you look really good tonight, stranger.”

He beamed like a proud child at those words, “Jamie Tartt. You look fuckin’ phenomenal, Y/N. Since we’ve like, never met, this might be weird,” you rolled your eyes with a laugh at how seriously he was taking the starting over thing, “But I hope this ain’t our only date.”

“Play your cards right, Jamie Tartt, and it won’t be,” you smiled, standing up and leaning over to press a soft kiss to his cheekbone.

“Because, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I hope it isn’t either.”

———

eeeee i hope you enjoyed that, i love jamie tartt a ridiculous amount so couldn’t help myself ! here’s my masterlist if you want to read more of my jamie fics or any of my other stuff!

also kinda feeling a part two where you’re secretly dating and turn up to a richmond squad event with him? let me know if u would like that!!!

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fluff #soft jamie tartt #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine

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agendabymooner · 11 months

Text

heaven ! fernando a. x ofc (mom!professional wrestler!canadian!ofc)

"i don't know how heaven could be better than this."

summary: everyone's talking about the hearth sisters, lester and their partners. but what about the original F1 it couple of the 2000s? OR beatrice anastasia 'trish' alonso is the only woman who can balance out fernando alonso's insanity with her calmness, and she happens to be the grid's crush of the season.

content warning: fluff, mentions of mclaren fernando, dad!fernando, family-centric (ish), possible use of explicit language, badly translated spanish, tim hortons references, 2023 canadian gp, f1 drivers are down bad, petty fernando at the very end, using 'trish stratus' (the actual ring name of the wrestler) as the ring name of oc

note: was writing third part of my max verstappen thing, worked on cmyc for a minute, thought about nando and that photo with the models, made these posts, had a breakdown. bon appetit xx

masterlist

2018 ROYAL RUMBLE - TRISH STRATUS TALKS ABOUT COMING BACK TO THE RING AS A WOMEN'S ROYAL RUMBLE ENTRANT

[1st image: i've definitely missed being in the ring. for the past few years i've been working back and forth in spain and canada- where my yoga studio is. i've been watching my husband, fernando, race throughout the years and we've been taking the kids along whenever we could.]

[2nd: i've told him (fernando) at some point that i've missed being out there and wrestling. months before, hunter (triple h) called me and wondered if i'd like to be a part of... this. i had never been so happy to hear that they want me to be a part of this very important event that will impact women's history at the professional wrestling industry. now here i am, participating in the first women's royal rumble.]

[3rd: it's been an eye opener for me, to be honest. i've met many women that are new here- some of them apparently grew up watching me alongside stephanie mcmahon and lita and the other ladies. i had never been this happy nefore because we never had the same platform as men - and back then, it wasn't as diverse in the women's division. so for me to be a part of this, so far, has been an absolute privilege. i will never ever waste any time spent here.]

[4th: my husband was more excited than i was *laughs*. throughout his break, he did everything a supportive spouse would have done. he took the kids to watch me train, we often did our workouts and yoga together, he was actually the one who suggested i wore these ring gears. he's highly excited to see me in the ring tonight - he even wore an old trish stratus merchandise that he bought years ago.]

[5th: he's supposed to be in uk for his sim racing practice, but he phoned me few days ago telling me that he was already flying in with our kids - one of which is a six month old - from spain. he said that "he didn't want to miss out on his wife making history again." so... here i am! making history with the most talented women in wwe, as my fernando wanted.]

2016 AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX - POST-RACE INTERVIEW WITH FERNANDO ALONSO

[1st image: i know that my mom and my wife are watching the tv, so i got out quite quickly.]

[2nd: trisha has been calling me every hour to see if i'm okay. i keep telling her that i'm okay but she doesn't believe me for one bit- i was like "what do you want me to do???" *laughs* but i am flying back to canada as soon as i can because i miss her and our son.]

[3rd: it's not the first time that has happened to me but now i know i have to make it out of such situation because i have a family. our son, frederico, is only 2. i still want to see him and his many siblings grow up, you know? this is the first time i've been scared (enough) because i promised to take him swimming when we go back to spain. so, yes. i would like to get out of australia as quickly as possible so i can rest with my wife and our son.]

tagged fernandoalo_oficial, lance_stroll, astonmartinf1

liked by tillywolff, estebanocon, carlossainzjr

user1 OMG !!! frederico was so little back then 😭

user2 what grade even is frederico in?

thetrishalonso fifth grade! he's turning 10 soon 🥰

astonmartinf1 when freddy and rey dressed for the occasion 💚 liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso of course, green = lucky 🍀

user3 word on the street is that the drivers were drooling over you 😭 can you please confirm? landonorris pierregasly lance_stroll charles_leclerc

oscarpiastri "the source is i made it the fuck up" -user3

yukitsunoda0511 not true 👎

user3 oscarpiastri yukitsunoda0511 i literally didn't ask either of you 💀💀

user4 f1 drivers are obvious and down bad 🙅‍♀️

georgerussell63 thanks for visiting the mercedes garage! it's been a pleasure 😊

user5 oh no they're piling up...

carlossainzjr frederico y reyna estan bien grandes ahora! liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso estoy tan preocupada de que lleguen a ser más altos que yo y su papá.

landonorris thank you for the selfie! i really liked spending time with you and the mini alonsos 😇

lance_stroll thank you so much for the iced capp this weekend! it definitely helped! liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso of course, sweetheart 😘 anything for the aston martin crew!

mickschumacher the everything bagel was very good, thank you so much! teach us how to do the stratusfaction next time!

nyckdevries thank you for introducing tim hortons to us 🙃

estebanocon thank you so much for the timbits 😊 lance failed to be a canadian to us and never got us any the last canadian gp

schecoperez ¡encantado de verte, beatrice!

user6 she got the whole grid on a leash 😭 so girlboss of her

alo_oficial estoy tan feliz de que tú y los niños estuvieran aquí. te quiero mi reina 😍😍 liked by thetrishalonso

thetrishalonso love you too, mi hombre guapo 🥰

tagged thetrishalonso

liked charles_leclerc, pierregasly, landonorris

user1 LMAO YALL NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO FERNANDO 🤣

user2 fernando's bout to enter his dts villain era once more 😭

pierregasly very pretty! 😍

user3 not you having the audacity 🤠

landonorris so fine 🤪

user4 why are y'all asking for your death wish 😭😭

user5 fernando's on his way to wipe half of the grid, thanos style 🤌🥰 as he should

thetrishalonso you're going to have to work hard first then we'll talk babies 3,4 and 5 😘😜 liked by fernandoalo_oficial

fernandoalo_oficial challenge accepted, mi amor

user6 ugh parents 😫 if you need a dog hmu

translations !!! (what i wrote down in the translating app 💀)

frederico y reyna estan bien grandes ahora! = frederico and reyna are so big now!

estoy tan preocupada de que lleguen a ser más altos que yo y su papá = i'm so worried that they'll grow taller than me and their papa

¡encantado de verte, beatrice! = nice seeing you, beatrice!

estoy tan feliz de que tú y chicos estuvieran aquí. te quiero mi reina = i'm so happy you and the kids were here. i love you my queen

mi hombre guapo = my handsome man

solo mi esposa, frederico y reyna, y sus muchos más hermanos por venir = just my wife, frederico and reyna, and their many more siblings to come

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irisbleufic · 1 month

Note

YOUR 3 CATS ARE SO CUTE OMG! How old are they/what are their stories?

Like many young-ish queer married couples, @one-eyed-bossman and I entered the fast track to pet parenthood in 2020. I was still recovering from extensive cancer treatment at the time, which is part of what makes our first kitty especially meaningful to me.

ZEL

Zel is my darling girl. She’s now 5 years old, and when we adopted her in June of 2020, she was already 1 year old. After being rescued on the streets at a few weeks old with her two personable siblings, she spent an entire year at this lady’s house with like 20 other cats at any given time. She was feral and unapproachable, but somehow I was able to get close enough to her at the rescue to pick her up and put her in the carrier. She nailed me with her claws in the process, but that’s the only time she’s ever hurt me or anyone else. The day after we got her home, I stuck my hand behind the bed in her safe room, and she set her little paw square in my palm and left it there for about a minute. I spent a couple of months crawling halfway under the bed to pet her while she was curled in her bed, and eventually I could get her to follow me around the house by asking, “Do you want to go for a walk?” She barely left my side after that. I spent a lot of 2020 sick in bed; she always curled up snugly between my ankles or my knees. She’s now the smartest cat I’ve ever met. Her language recognition shocks me even after 4 years of having her as a silly little shadow who likes to play fetch with her pink-eared mouse toy. She’s stuck to my side any time I’m on the sofa, and about a month ago she climbed fully in my lap for the first time. Her meow is barely a whisper when she does use it (only to talk to me and occasionally to the TV), but the trills, squeaks, and yowls she makes to talk to her toys are hilarious. She doesn’t even talk to her siblings like that. Unlike many white cats, she is not deaf.

NICKY

We got Nicky a year after we got Zel; he was about 8 weeks old when we brought him home in June of 2021. We met a kind lady who periodically bred her lovely Bengal queens, and Nicky was somehow a “non-show-quality” (?!!) discount kitten. He’s sweet, goofy, vocal, afraid of everything/everyone that’s outside the house, and occasionally very naughty. We hoped he would bring Zel the rest of the way out of her shell, and it worked. He just adored her from day one. She took a few months to warm up to him, but they bonded pretty fast. Now, at 3 years old, he’s a big boy—17 pounds. He likes to stand/sit on laps more than he likes to lie down in them, although he will lie down in mine a couple times a week. He brings me granola bars from the cupboard and loves trash more than he likes his toys:

EMBER

We hadn’t planned on a third cat, but the universe insisted. I mean that quite literally. On 31 July 2022, my mother died at my sister’s place a couple of states away. The morning she died, me and my four siblings took a walk around my sister’s neighborhood. We split up and went slightly different ways; my sister and her husband called me as I was getting back to the house to say that a tiny, tiny crying kitten had run out of the bushes toward them. My sister didn’t know what to do; one of my nieces is very allergic, and we were all burnt-out from dealing with Mom’s passing and the funeral home taking away her body. I told her to bring the kitten back to the house, because I was too grief-stricken to let another thing die that day. Out on the porch, I fed her milk from one of the droppers we were using to give my mom morphine, all the while making desperate phone calls to local rescues. After about 3 hours, a local vet with specialty in caring for bottle baby kittens came to pick her up. She told me that, because I didn’t live too far away in the grand scheme of things, she could foster the baby until she was old enough for me to arrange transport to my home state. There was no way I could walk away from that little baby, so I got regular photos, videos, and updates from her foster mom until I could arrange transport about 5 months later (she came home in December of 2022). She has grown up to be the feistiest tortie I’ve ever met. She has far longer hair than I ever could have guessed, and even now that she’s 1.5 years old, she has very short legs (longer end of munchkin, our vet says!) and an overall smaller stature than her siblings. She fucking adores Nicky, and he has never once played too rough for her given the size disparity. He lets her chase him, jump on him, bap him into play fights, etc. She will cry and cry at night if we don’t pick her up and carry her around before we close the bedroom doors (they get to sleep in the bedroom sometimes, but not always; Nicky likes to knock picture frames off the wall in there, and I’m not about exposing them to broken glass).

#nicky and zel #zel and nicky #ember #cats of tumblr #rescue cats

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inkareds · 10 days

Text

I, Carrion - Hozier

Daemon Targaryen

5/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list (tba) // ko-fi // taglist

✧.* word count: 8.8k (long boy)

✧.* genre: angst -> comfort // sfw (but adult themes)

✧.* warnings: slow burn-ish, the reader is female, Otto and Alicent are minor villains, details of sickness (Daemon not reader lmao)

"Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We'll float away, but if we fall // I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Being the last member of a noble house was difficult, and the fact that you were a woman made it even more difficult. Surprisingly, you've found comfort in the Rogue Prince, and even more surprising when he finds comfort in you. A comfort built on mutual affection and respect, something a certain someone in court feels threatened by

Parts of this story were inspired by The Crucible, you'll know what I mean after you've read the story. Also hiiiii, I'm so happy to be back from my LONG hiatus, I'm feeling a lot better and hopefully will get into the writing groove back!

As always, lyric and story breakdown at the end of the story

Your mother died on the birthing bed, she had fought valiantly, screaming, crying, and clawing at the sheets trying to push you, her firstborn, out.

When you echoed your first cries, your father came into the room, he held your mother’s hand and wept, the last thing she spoke was a plea to your father to love their daughter and to give it a name she chose.

Your father honoured this last wish of your mother as she died.

He raised you with nothing but a doting sort of love but he knew his time was limited.

The Gods had not been kind to him or your mother, you were their first child in over ten years of marriage and in your birth, you had taken your mother. Because of this, your father found no more reason to remarry. His heart belonged wholly to your mother, he gave everything to her and in return to you, the last thing he has of her.

Though that meant the extinction of his house once you marry or pass on, he doesn’t seem to mind it. He did fear for you, now ten and eight years of age.

He feared for what would become of you once he dies, with no more kin to lean on and coming from a house that wasn’t as powerful as most others in your region, he wishes for you to live in content.

So one day when a raven is sent out to many noble houses in search of a lady-in-waiting for the young Princess Rhaenyra, your father jumped at the opportunity. You were close of age to her and her other lady-in-waiting lady Alicent Hightower, though you were slightly older. He found this to be the perfect opportunity.

After consolidating with you, he sends you off to King’s Landing with the hopes of interesting the princess enough that you’d become her lady-in-waiting. Much to his joy the princess was taken by you.

You were straightforward and spoke rather brazenly compared to the other prim and proper ladies. Something Rhaenyra loved. You quickly wrote to your father about how she told you that you amused her greatly and that she admires your sharp words and quick wit.

After being chosen as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Rhaenyra, you came home only to retrieve your belongings before moving to live in King’s Landing. Your father had wept in private with you before you left, you were the last thing he had of your mother and though you did not know her, he says that you were quite similar to her. In that way, he felt if he could give you a content life, he’d be giving an extension of her another content life.

“Promise me you’ll survive there, surrounded by dragons, you have to be strong, my beautiful daughter.” He weeps as he pulls you closer to him.

Your father was old, older than what most men were when they had their firstborn, and so you knew he didn’t have long left. With what little time the Gods give him, you want to make him proud and happy.

“I will father, I will keep both you and mother in my heart.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Then promise me you’ll survive no matter what, you’ll live and you shall thrive.” He looks at you with determination shining in his eyes.

“I swear to you, I will not let those courtly dragons drag me down.”

With that, you left your home for King’s Landing.

It wasn’t much different, you weren’t from rigid lands like Dorne or Winterfell, so the weather didn’t bother you much. What did bother you was the social customs that you were expected to adhere to.

Back home, your house was small but highly respected by the common folk around you as well as the other noble houses around you. Seeing as how in, what most assume, a couple of years you will be the last of your house, the noblemen and women of your lands gave you much more freedom than most women.

You didn’t butter your words and spoke with an ardent fever when the topic would land on one of the many you were well-educated in. That was another thing you found ridiculous, the only women that were highly educated seemed to be the highest nobles. And those were Lady Alicent and the Princess herself. Those two were the only ones you found you could talk to.

Whilst the men, as knowledgeable as they were, were rude and distasteful. You had found no comfort in court and found it difficult to hide your sneer any time anyone second-guessed Rhaenyra’s position as a princess and her father’s firstborn.

The two of you shared a bond unlike any other, you were your father’s firstborn, just as she is. But unlike her, you hold none of the pressures she has from everyone around her to rise above her station while sitting prim and proper as the perfect lady. So she blossoms whenever she speaks to you, in you she sees a different side of the coin she resided in.

And when her uncle comes to visit, let’s just say, her interest in you grows exponentially.

“Prince Daemon, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance once more.” You curtsied at him when he caught you walking through the garden.

The roguish prince grinned.

“Might I ask why my niece’s attendant is roaming around without my niece at sight?” He nears you.

“Princess Rhaenyra is studying with her Septa, my prince, during her lessons I am not with her.” You explained to him.

After a few years of attending to Rhaenyra, you have met Daemon repeatedly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the prince quite charming, in a sly way. What little conversations you’ve had with him, he’d found humour and entertained your sharp tongue. Not to mention he actually speaks to you when topics of your knowledge come into the conversation. Unlike many of the men here who then go on a tirade about the topic, boasting about their knowledge, completely ignoring any of your statements.

“May I ask what troubles you?” You ask when you see him observing you.

"Do you think Rhaenyra is suited for the throne?"

The sudden serious question caught you off guard. Though you tried to answer as honestly as possible, knowing the Prince would find it more favourable.

"Of course, I do, she is the king's firstborn, knowledgeable, headstrong, and stubborn. This realm needs a strong leader, not one easily swayed by their court,” you paused, deciding to poke the bear, or in this case, the dragon, “I hope I could trust you not to misconstrued my words and twist them in court, my Prince.” You grinned.

Daemon chuckled, letting his head fall back ever so slightly as he took a step towards you.

“Now why would I do that?”

Your eyes focused on him, “Perhaps to take all of the Princess’ attention? I do see the way you look at her, my Prince. I may not be well-accustomed to the queer traditions of the old Valyrians, but I am not blind. Perhaps you are jealous she’s spending her time with me and wishes to rid of me.”

Standing in the deserted gardens nestled deep in the Keep, Daemon takes another step closer to you, pressuring you to take a step backwards. Yet you stand your ground, unwilling to let the invisible strings of tension pull you back as he pushes you forward with his noble visage.

“You are one of the last interesting people in this keep. Dare I say, with a tongue like that and a mind like yours, if you were born a man you’d have been seated somewhere in my brother’s court. But alas, you were born to be the last of your house.”

At the slight snide comment of your house, all but little of your playfulness dissipated. Of course, you understood the dire situation of your house, but you would be a fool to let its name be tarnished and insulted.

“Alas, unfortunately so, if that is all you wish to say to me, then I shall take my leave,” you tilted your head upwards before lightly bowing and turning to leave.

Daemon sighed with a tired smile before reaching out to grab your arm.

“Are all southerners brass and easily emotional?” He remarks, causing a humourless and graceless fake smile to fill your expression.

“If I am as emotional as you say I am I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to roll my eyes at your words. Yet, here I am, still smiling, it seems I’m less emotional than you think I am, Prince Daemon.” You spoke the last words through gritted teeth, clearly showing your sarcasm.

“As much as I do enjoy our banter, I did come here to talk business, though it seems you had distracted me.” At his statement, your brows furrowed and finally, you turned towards him. Seeing as you don’t seem to walk away, Daemon lets go of your arm. “There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

Little hound, the nickname that used to make your blood boil as a child. Your house sigil consisted of the body of a bloodhound, standing regal with its head held up high and one paw in the air. It perfectly encapsulated your house’s longstanding history as a loyal and trustworthy house with a mind unlike any other. Your father gave you the nickname when you were younger as you would play with the pups and dogs near the farms.

Later on, the nickname would catch on through the common folk. Little hound they called you. When Daemon first spoke of it, he spoke as if it was an insult. The little hound, the last of the bloodhounds of your house.

But now it sounded different.

“I would watch your back much closer,” he leaned closer to almost whisper to your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’d hate for my favourite source of entertainment to disappear.”

As quickly as he got serious, the boyish bravado and ease came back, Daemon pulled away, taking a step backwards to create some space between the two of you. Right before you open your mouth to inquire him about the statement, another voice joins you.

“There you are, I had been looking everywhere for you.”

You quickly looked back at the sound of the Princess’s voice. The young Rhaenyra stood there with a smile upon meeting your gaze, though that very smile dropped into a mischievous glint when she saw that Daemon was with you.

“Uncle, I did not know you had returned from your travels.” Rhaenyra spoke walking towards the both of you.

“Niece,” he greeted, “I had just arrived in port at midday.”

Rhaenyra smiled though it looked more like a mischievous grin than anything. “Ah I see, and you had immediately gone to find my lady-in-waiting have you?”

Ah, the Princess Rhaenyra, ever the lady without a filter covering her mouth. You wanted to grit your teeth and tell her she shouldn’t be saying things so easily, but you knew she’d simply call you a hypocrite.

“I do enjoy seeing her face every once and a while, niece.” Daemon glanced slightly at you before going back to look at his niece.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his flirtatious ministrations.

“Hm, well, if all you wish is to see her face I believe that wish has been granted. Now the lady and I must go.” Rhaenyra took her hand in yours and quickly began pulling you away.

You heard Daemon chuckle to himself right before you were out of earshot.

“Do tell me you aren’t trying to bed my uncle.” Rhaenyra spoke, no sense of malice in her words, only humour.

“By the six, I would never bed a married man, my lady. The Prince is far from my type of men anyways.” At that, Rhaenyra quirks her brows.

“Do tell. What does a lady such as yourself look for in a suitor? Perhaps it would give me ideas for my own dream suitor.” She rolls her eyes at the last part of her statement.

Being by her side all the time and seeing her act regal and noble in front of her many subjects, you’ve almost forgotten that she is still a teenage girl. A teenage girl that bored of her mundane life of being looked down upon by the masses.

“Loyal.” You answered.

Ever since that day in the gardens, you’ve found yourself unable to sleep a lot of nights, your mind being flooded by images of Daemon. His whisper against your ear, his body close to your own. You found yourself needing to take a breather outside now and again. Almost always your body leads you back to the gardens.

The cooler air of the night comforted you and let go of any images of Daemon you would have.

Tonight was a tough night to swallow, though not due to the Rogue Prince. Quite the contrary, your mind was filled by your father. Recently you had gotten word that your father had passed in his sleep.

Old age has caught up with him and following his dying wish, his attendants and his beloved subjects buried him in the heart of the forest behind your old estate. The forest which you and your father had tracked down and killed much game before your stay in the keep.

In the letter, it detailed that he had died a few days prior from when you’d received the letter and that the funeral procession had ended. The reason you were not told of the funeral procession was due to your father’s other dying wish. He did not wish for you to be burdened by grief or the past.

He wanted his death to be just another event in your life, nothing major nor anything to bring concern to. Therefore he didn’t want you to travel all the way to your homeland just for his funeral. Something you gritted your teeth over.

How dare he decide what was best for you?

Now you were alone in this cruel and tainted world. A little hound alone in a den of dragons. How curious.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Daemon’s voice behind you was the last thing you expected to hear when you sat down on one of the many marble benches in the secluded garden. He walked towards the bench and sat beside you, watching the same sight.

A gorgeous splitting tree grew in the middle of the garden and in the dark of the night, its white flowers almost glowed in radiance. It reminded you slightly of the prince’s own white hair.

“My father died a few fortnights ago,” you didn’t know what compelled you to open your heart to him at that moment. But you did and there was no turning back, “And now there is one.” You whispered into the night.

“You.” Daemon stated, causing you to nod.

“Yes, me,” a dry chuckle followed after. “What misfortune befell on my mother to have birthed a daughter instead of a son. You were right, my prince, had I been born a man my lineage would continue. Plenty more bloodhounds would be running around my estate and my house would not die out.”

You didn’t want to show weakness in front of the prince, not after all the work you’ve put in to fit into the social quo of the Keep. Yet, Daemon does not seem to care.

“I wouldn’t call it much of a misfortune. If you were born a man, I would not have found you half as beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, any other time a little voice in your head would tell you that your tongue would be cut off if you did that. But now you didn’t quite care. Your house was dead, you were just the final piece. Whether you died or lived, what legacy would you bring?

“What glory it is to be considered beautiful by a married man.”

Bitter were your words.

“The bronze bitch is dead.”

At the sudden rashness of his statement, your head whipped in his direction.

“My prince, apologies I did not know such news has befallen you-”

“Hah!” he laughed, “It is nothing more than good news. My marriage to her was loveless and lacked any sort of mutual respect. No,” he shook his head and turned towards you.

Both your eyes met and in a single second, you wondered if his violet eyes lit up in the dark much like the red of fire at midnight. You wouldn’t be all that shocked if Targaryens had that power along with the one to bond with dragons, as Daemon seemed to have another power up his sleeve. Enamouring you with his gaze.

“I came looking for you to ask for your hand.” Your brows quickly furrowed.

Your daze broke almost immediately.

“Pardon me, my prince?”

“I can take you to Dragonstone and wed you there in Old Valyrian customs. You once said you saw the way I looked at Princess Rhaenyra. But it seems you’re blinder than you thought. They weren’t for her,”

The cogs in your mind twisted and turned.

“They were for you.” He closed in.

Your breath was caught in your throat the moment he leaned in. Daemon’s lips were harsh against your own, despite the slowness of his approach he did not hold back in kissing you. In a single moment after you reciprocated, his hand was at the back of your neck, pushing you closer and deeper into him.

Both your eyes closed you could feel lightning striking through both your bodies, as he pulled you closer to him. Though right before your instinct pushed you to open your lips and let his tongue explore, your thoughts crashed into your mind.

You quickly pushed away and stood up from the marble bench, your chest heaved from the lack of oxygen and the adrenaline. Daemon quickly stood up as well seeing your bewildered expression.

“Why?” was your only question.

Why now?

Why me?

Why the haste?

Why-

Too many questions, yet all start with the word why.

You could see Daemon take a second to mull over his words, when he did figure out a response his hand reached towards your cheek. Lightly caressing it, a stark juxtaposition on how he had just been handling you moments before.

“Though I debated on asking for your hand after what you had just told me. I leave for Stepstones at dawn. I intend to make you a bride before then, just as I always hoped for many moons now.” He answered truthfully.

“You intend to fight the crab-feeder with Lord Corlys and his son?” You inquired, to which he nodded, awaiting your reaction.

You thought to yourself for a second then a soft smile crept into your face. “Then do not make me your wife tonight, make me your friend.” You held onto his hand as you continued. “Fate and death have touched my father. I do not wish for it to touch my husband. Wed me when you win the war, that way you’ll perhaps find something to look forward to when you fight against these warriors.”

A surprisingly warm smile befell on the Rogue Prince. He held onto your hand tighter and guided you back to sit down on the bench. An air of comfort and warmth blanketed the two of you in the cold desolate air.

That night, the two of you spent it in those very same gardens, talking to one another. Not a single drop of wine was shared between the two of you and yet your hearts were open. Not in the way of speaking truthfully but in a way much more intimate. As if the two of you could hear what is unspoken and read what was between the lines.

Both your minds and souls weaved together that very night. Entangling themselves into one another before the sun would rise and the spell would be broken. There was no need for a touch of passion to be shared. The company was all that mattered to the two of you.

Just as you were about to leave your room as the sun had just begun to peak from the horizon, Daemon stopped you.

A sense of deja vu rushed towards you, the scene of the last time the two of you were in the garden alone replayed in your mind.

This time no snide remarks were thrown, instead you turned towards him with no malice.

His hand held onto your wrist as he spoke, “As something to remember me by.” He stated as he procured a dainty bracelet with a gorgeous red ruby in the middle, he held your wrist and clipped it on.

“Valyrian steel, it shouldn’t tarnish nor break.”

Speechless, you spoke only what was in your heart. “Come back to me after the war ends and you’ve had your fill of adventure.”

The two of you shared one last kiss before you turned to leave.

The many months after went on as usual. Your friendship with Rhaenyra grew even stronger the moment she saw the Valyrian steel bracelet, immediately knowing it had to be from Daemon. She had been delighted to know of your and Daemon’s plans once he wins the war in the Stepstones. She yearns to have a true friend permanently within the court. Especially after Alicent’s marriage to her father.

Unfortunately, it was also due to that event that your relationship with Alicent slowly tarnished itself.

It seemed not only Rhaenyra realised the source of the bracelet you now wore every day. Otto Hightower was one of the many who had his suspicions. Whether you were another one of Daemon’s whores or if the rumours are true and you plan on wedding him. Otto knew you’d be a formidable opponent in his wishes for Aegon to be the king, for his blood to belong on the throne.

So he pulls Alicent away from you, to make what he was about to do easier.

One day a guard had called you over during one of your few alone times, seeing as Rhaenyra was with her Septa. The guard informed you that you have been called to trial under the eyes of King Viserys and the Seven. You didn’t know what was happening, but you weren’t a fool to not comply.

Daemon’s words echoed through your head the longer the walk took from your bed chambers to the small council’s room.

“There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

When you arrived at the small council meeting your worst fears were made into fruition. Inside the room was the whole small council including Alicent, which meant a good majority of them were people who didn’t like you.

Sir Harold called your name as you kept your eyes trained in front of you.

“You are trialled under the eye of King Viserys the first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and under the watchful eye of the Seven. You are accused of dark witchcraft and conspiracy against the crown. How do you plead to these accusations.”

The suddenness of everything stunned you. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened as your gaze flickered towards Alicent. She refused to look in your direction and so you immediately turned towards Otto, he was staring dead into your figure.

“Excuse me?” you finally croaked out, “My King, I assure you I have never done witchcraft in my life and I would never plot against the crown. My father died to put me here, I would never do anything that would harm my house’s name as the last living member of it.” You practically rambled feeling panic begin to bubble up against your throat.

There was a great silence in the room as you looked towards King Viserys. Despite being his daughter’s closest confidant, you didn’t have much interaction with the King himself, always so busy being pulled away by Otto. Realising the situation you found yourself in, you took in a deep shaky breath, swallowing the panic down as you gazed forward.

“I plead not guilty.” You needed to regain your composure, all you had to do was convince Viserys, which shouldn’t be too hard.

“I apologise for the formalities, I find this rather unimportant considering half of the things going on at this moment.” Viserys suddenly speaks with a sigh. “It’s clear my daughter’s lady-in-waiting is not a witch, now could we move on?”

“I understand why you might be fooled by her, my king, but as my daughter come forth she will show you undoubtable proof.”

With a sigh, Viserys nodded towards the young Alicent’s direction. Alicent walked with bated breath towards the table without a single glance in your direction.

Like clockwork, she placed a small doll made out of some scrap fabric roughly in the shape of a human proportion. However when she placed it down on the table the doll slightly tumbled forward and revealed its front.

Though there was stitching in the middle of the abdomen, it’s clear that someone had ripped parts of the stitching open, revealing the inside of the doll. Sheep wool mixed with hair, human hair in the same wool’s colour was stuffed within the doll.

This was no normal hair, it was Targaryen hair.

This was no doll or toy, it was a poppet.

“I had saw the increasing distance between the Princess Rhaenyra with my daughter after your marriage, my king, so I sent my daughter to reconcile with the princess. As the princess is usually seen with her lady-in-waiting, I sent Alicent to her room first. She returned to me in haste and panic, she had found a poppet under the lady’s carpet. A witch’s poppet, no doubt used to forsake you and your future male heir, my king.”

“Lies!” You quickly yelled out, causing the entire room to look at you. “I have never seen that poppet in my life!”

Seeing the way Viserys scrutinizes you underneath his gaze, panic bubbled up. Your eyes were blown wide you took a hurried step closer towards the council’s table. In a surprising response, the guards beside Viserys pulled out their swords. The blade aimed towards you. Your heart stopped in your chest.

“Stay where you are, witch.” Otto stated, looking around and seeing no one on your side you took a few steps backwards, going back to your previous position.

“Apologies for my outburst, your highness. But I can assure you, I’ve been framed. I’ve never seen a poppet in my life. I do not even know how to create one. My teachings are well documented by my septa from my homeland, if you wish to know of my good nature, ask my people. They know I would never forsake the throne.” You tried explaining yourself.

Viserys gritted his teeth as he reached out towards the poppet. Silence enveloped the room as people awaited his response. Using his fingers, Viserys pried the front open even more, and there he pulled one of the hair strands. It was long, longer than his hair. He recognised it as Rhaenyra’s. A gasp left you at the sight of it.

“This,” he glared at you, waving the poppet in the air, “This is blasphemy and conspiracy not only towards me but my daughter. You think I’d believe the words of a witch?”

“My king, please! I beg of you to believe me.” Ignoring all kinds of shame you dropped to your knees, urgency clawing at you. “I have been in the Princess’ service for a very long time. I see her as my closest friend, I would never do anything to harm her. If you must doubt my character, do not doubt the maids who clean and tend to my quarters. Surely they should’ve found it had I kept a poppet of the princess this entire time?!”

You tried reasoning with the king, even going so low as begging him. You didn’t know what to do. You knew what was happening, Otto Hightower. That reptile amongst dragons wanted to rid of you. But if you were to accuse him of treason, then your case would not stand. As it stands, Viserys trusted him more than you.

Viserys stayed silent, as did the court. No one spoke to defend you, no one spoke to scrutinize you. Because the end was clear. The king looked at you with contempt.

“Please.” You made a final plea.

“For your crimes, I would sentence you to an execution.” You wanted to scream but your pride wouldn’t let you. “But I appreciate and take account of the many years you have spent under the servitude of my daughter. For that, I sentence you to banishment. Leave Westeros at the first boat towards Essos. I’ll allow a single bag of your belongings to carry with you. What you do then will not be of any concern to me. Leave.”

What followed after came in quick succession.

First, all your pleas and desperation dissipated. In its place was hot, flaming anger. Any and all niceties disappeared from you as you walked out of the room with a glare.

Second, your maids were standing waiting for you in your room. Their heads bowed low as they try not to look into your eyes. They know the charges were false, they know you were framed. But they also knew they could not do anything, so you sighed silently and packed what was necessary.

Your father had you taught all the necessary things a lady needed to know. How to sew, how to weave, how to speak, and how to enamour. But he had also taught you all the necessary things a lord needed to know.

With no one else to lend down his knowledge, it was all for you. He taught you how to hunt, how to build a fire, how to fight, and most of all, how to survive.

Third, you were sent off in a boat to Essos to Gods knows where. With only Alicent and Otto to watch and make sure you were truly leaving, your princess on the other side of Westeros finding suitors, and the man you love fighting in a war– you swore to yourself.

You will survive.

Daemon returned not a moon cycle after your banishment. Surprising everyone, Rhaenyra came minutes after Caraxes landed in the dragon pit. She had ended her tour early and Daemon had won the war. It was both a momentous and a frustrating day for Viserys.

The war in the Stepstones was won and Daemon had bowed to him in front of his entire court. That very event warranted a celebration.

Almost immediately the kitchens bustled to life, the servants prepared delicacies and parties.

As Viserys laughed at stories from both his and his brother’s youth, Daemon could not help but let his eyes wander. He had known of Rhaenyra’s tour in search of a suitor. He had also known you had not gone with her for reasons unknown. So he had expected you to be here now to celebrate his win.

He had planned on whisking you away in the night like that day he swore himself to you, bringing you to Dragonstone, and finally wed you, just as he promised.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found.

When Daemon found out about your banishment, the Keep found out how irrational the Rogue Prince could be. Not a moment later, he mounted Caraxes and left King’s Landing for Essos, leaving behind an array of shouts and arguments with both his brother and the King’s hand.

Rhaenyra didn’t take it any less lightly either. Though she could not simply fly off to a distant continent, she made sure her distaste and anger were felt across the estate. Any and all attempts of Alicent to speak to her were all brushed away harsher and colder than last time. In a bout of rebellion, the princess halted speaking with her father for a long period of time.

But just as time continues to move on, so do people. After many soldiers and men were sent off to Essos to look for Daemon, the Rogue Prince finally returned. Muck and dirt stuck to his body like skin. From his eyes, everyone knew not to set him off.

The prince wreaked havoc with his gold cloaks not long after. Loyal only to him, the soldiers became increasingly harsher in their punishments, all at his order.

Viserys never knew true anger as when he had thought Daemon had had his fill of violence and asked him to marry Laena Velaryon, to strengthen ties between house Velaryon and Targaryen.

The lady was a friend of his, just as Rhaenyra is. But the anger that overtook Daemon at the mere idea of his brother banishing the woman he loved, only to send him away once more to marry someone else burned within him.

Arguments, insults, and threats were poured upon them like wine on a wedding night. The keep did not know peace for a long time after that.

However what did end up happening was that Laena Velaryon married another nobleman, and from her came Baela and Rhaena. Daemon would stay in Driftmark with Laena, all to cause gossip and havoc within King’s Landing and to cause even more of a headache to his brother.

There he witnessed her husband’s untimely death due to an accident and her own during childbirth. He saw the way Laena’s body burned up in flames, leaving both Rhaena and Baela alone in the world. Just like that, he has lost another friend.

In a single moment, he had thought about you. To the last night, he saw you. The two of you basking in the moonlight as you told him about your mother. Her untimely death. Seeing the way it tore you apart, he took it upon himself to take the two girls as wards of his family. He raised them as if they were his own. A part of him wondered what you’d think of him if he saw you. How he wished sometimes as he looked into the eyes of Baela and Rhaena after he comforted them of their mother’s death, that he was looking into the eyes of your daughters. The daughters he could imagine himself having with you.

Would they have his platinum hair or would they have yours? Perhaps your eyes, though purple would look gorgeous. At night when he slumbers, he imagines and dreams about them.

Children of his own with you. Be it two daughters like Laenas or three sons like Rhaenyra. He imagines them with your smile and mind, soft, comforting, but sharp and precise. From him, he hoped they’d have his tenacity, his edge for battle, his stubbornness, and perhaps his love for their mother as well.

But when the sun rises and he wakes, they stay in his dreams. Forever missing.

Perhaps it was bitterness, perhaps it was anger, or perhaps it was something as simple as pettiness. But he knew the whole reason he pushed Rhaenyra for the war was because he urged for revenge.

Then when that day came, the day when the Gods cried and thunder ripped through the sky, he held too many regrets as he leapt from Caraxes and plunged Dark Sister deep into his niece’s good eye.

The battle above God’s Eye was a brutal one.

Vhagar, a war dragon in her own right, yet slow from age, against Caraxes, the blood wyrm, the only dragon which can match Daemon’s bloodlust and anger, but always blinded by his rider’s emotions.

Then Daemon, the Rogue Prince, fuelled by pure rage and revenge which boiled within him for years before his opponent was even born, against Aemond, the one-eyed-prince, who knows nothing but the desperate and filthy feeling of wanting to make good of his name.

Their fight raged for what seemed like forever.

The sky cracked and burned with lightning and rain. As Caraxes barely weaved through Vhagar’s piercing jaw, Daemon angrily yelled out. He could see no way he would win this, but he would be damned and let Alicent win. He’ll have to take down both Aemond and Vhagar, even if it costs him his life.

Just as Aemond yells out commands to Vhagar, trying desperately to steer her, Daemon prepares his final attack. And when Vhagar’s jagged and sharp teeth finally sank their might into Caraxes’ wings, Daemon leapt.

Aemond’s one good eye widened in fear as he struggled with the many straps that bound him to the queen of dragons. He could not get away.

Daemon rained down on Aemond’s one good eye like the Gods’ judgement. Plunging dark sister deep into his skull, whilst Caraxes’ neck sprawled to bite Vhagar’s neck.

The four of them fell to the raging sea like Gods. Kin killing kin, dragon killing dragon. Blood dyed the sea red that night. Daemon could only hope you would forgive him for his abandonment in the afterlife.

Had he known that was the last night he’d ever seen you, perhaps he would’ve never gone to the Stepstones.

So as saltwater fills his lungs and burns his eyes, he relinquishes himself to death.

Deer fur has never been the softest, it’s short, stubbly, and quite harsh on the skin. But it is one of the best to bed with when winter comes. Due to this, a layer of sheep fur is always useful when placed atop of deer fur when one wants to sleep. The softness of the sheep perfectly balances the warmth of the deer.

Warmth, comfort, and the plushness of sheep fur atop deer fur greeted Daemon when he roused.

He had thought the afterlife would be warmer and brighter.

When he opens his eyes, the only thing he can see is a haphazardly made wooden roof, dimly lit by very few candles. One of those candles was beside him, giving off some warmth to the side of his face.

His eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting. When he finds that he can’t he tries to move his limbs. Surely if he was dead then his injuries would amount to nothing.

That assumption couldn’t have been more wrong as the moment he tried to sit up using his elbows, pain travelled through his entire body more painful than anything else he’d ever imagined. Causing him to collapse back onto the fur-lined bed.

He groaned loudly as his senses jolted awake from the pain stabbed within him. Was the afterlife truly this ruthless that it asks him to feel his injuries though dead?

His mind feels muddled as if a haze is crossing his eyes. His vision blurs and returns at random intervals and he feels sick. He knows he has a fever. Daemon feels the heat on his skin, despite the coolness of the air around him.

Once more, he tries to move. This time to do a much less taxing task than the one prior. He tries to move some of the animal pelts around him, lessen the heat surrounding him.

But when he lifts his arm to try, the door to the measly home opens with a shuddering sound.

“Gods, you’re awake!” he hears a voice, though it rings in his head and he can barely make out the words.

Had his head not been spinning and pounding against his entire being, he would’ve looked to his left to see who it was.

“Oh no, please stay still. Your injuries are grave and you’ve suffered so much frost.” The voice returns again albeit he still can’t make out the owner of the voice nor the words they speak.

The figure, hazy in colour and shape runs towards him as they fix back his pelts to cover his body. He realises then that he isn’t clothed. He groans when they accidentally place very light pressure on one of his bruises.

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, running towards a table somewhere in the room.

When they return they hold a bowl of viscous liquid.

“Drink it, it’ll help with the drowsiness and the pain.” They speak softly and very slowly.

Though he doesn’t fully comprehend the words, Daemon is too far in his injuries to resist any kind of medicine. The bowl was brought onto his lips and he slowly drinks the viscous and bitter liquid. It burns his throat and tastes disgusting. He almost gags at the feeling of it running down his mouth.

When he finishes the bowl, the figure places it aside and comes back to his bedside.

Slowly, his ragged breathing returns to normal as his head stops its terrible spinning. The fatigue and pain of his muscles and bruises were still there but the burn of them lessened.

When he can feel his throat and mouth again, he trusts himself to speak.

“Who are you?” he whispers.

The figure’s face expresses something, their mouth moves to emote but his vision is still too blurry to know what they are doing.

“I’ll answer your questions once you’ve fully come to yourself. Rest for now, my prince.”

They reach out to brush a strand of his hair that stuck to his sweat-lined forehead. In the corner of his eye, before he succumbs to sleep once more, he sees a silver bracelet. He does not know why he feels safe enough to sleep. But his mind wills him to and his body is too tired to care.

In the days that followed, Daemon comes in and out of consciousness. Every time with blurry vision and a pounding headache. The figure aides to him as best as they can, he remembers them replacing the cold rag on his forehead every now and again. Feed him water and broth, anything liquid enough for him to drink and not have to chew.

On the 1st full moon since his first rouse, he wakes long enough to focus on his vision. The figure wasn’t there, wherever they may be, Daemon was glad for the small moment of respite. It gave him time to think about what had happened.

The fight above God’s Eye. Vhagar struck after Caraxes. His blade embedded itself in his niece. Then his fall. How he has survived so far was beyond him. A part of him wishes he was dead. Let the cold water fill his lungs again, let the salt burn against his eyes, let it stop his heart. Let him meet the one he loved.

But no, it seemed the Gods had cursed him with a life longer than he neither wanted nor deserved.

The figure didn’t come back for at least another hour, since then Daemon has found strength within himself to move his limbs lightly without much pain. His body ached from the lack of movement but that wasn’t the thing he was focused on.

With much rest and nutritious broth, the strength in his mind had returned. With it came his clear vision. Clear enough to see the woman who walked through the haphazardly created wooden door, carrying two hares.

Her clothes were ragged, her hair a mess, her skin muddied with dirt and God knows what else from the hunt. Her riding gear was old and tattered, barely holding onto dear life. But he’d still recognise her even if her body was covered with scars and burns. It was you.

Daemon was confident he looked like a buck who’d just realised a quiver was pointed at it with the way he was looking at you. Eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His eyes focused on you as you huffed your way across this simple home of yours.

Pulling off your shoes and discarding all your gear before grabbing a knife to skin the hares. You hadn’t realised Daemon was awake, he was far too quiet for that. It gave time for Daemon to wonder if he died during his sleep or if you were truly real.

It wasn’t until you’d finished skinning and butchering the hare, placing the skin and organs away for something else and clearing the blood and butchered pieces away that you noticed he was awake. At first, your reaction had been shock, your eyebrows rose and your mouth went slightly agape at the intensity of Daemon’s stare.

But then it softened, and a smile crept its way onto your face. You sighed and placed down your dirty and bloody rag, walking over towards him as his eyes followed you. Your hand, now clean, went over to push away some strands of his hair. Then his eyes caught onto the bracelet once more.

It was you, truly you. You with the valyrian steel bracelet he gave to you so many years ago.

In the choking intensity, Daemon whispered your name once. Like how a devoted disciple would towards his most forgiving of Gods.

“Yes, my love?” You whispered, equally as quiet and reverent.

Daemon choked.

Emotions and years upon years of longing and yearning crawled their way from his heart all the way to his mind a mouth. Rendering him speechless.

“Welcome back, my love.” You repeat, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead.

Not much was done afterwards, though Daemon’s body still pulled him to rest, he tried with all his might to stay awake. Afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d disappear.

But with a soft voice, you coaxed him back to rest. Promising to speak to him once he heals. That was the only thing which allowed him to go back to a peaceful rest.

The next time he awoke, it wasn’t a peaceful rouse. Quite the opposite. A loud shrill sound echoed through the house, it shook the windows and burst through the walls. He knew that sound. Caraxes.

With little to no care for his own well-being, Daemon sprung upwards, since he first woke he’d been clothed. Though it was just a simple and thin shirt and pants to cover himself up but not overheat him in case of a fever.

He winced slightly over the sudden action but the sound of Caraxes led him towards the exit. Clutching his side he lightly limped towards the door and struggled to open it.

“Lykiri Caraxes! Lykiri! Daemon is alright, he’s healing!”

You were in front of the blood wyrm, standing between the large dragon and your measly home. What bravery you held to stand your grown though he could tell the way you shivered you were just as terrified as many at the sight of the dragon.

Caraxes had severe scars all throughout his body, many were closed off, but he could see some marks on his wing and leg which had been expertly dressed with soft leaves. Have you been caring for Caraxes as well?

His thoughts were cut off when Caraxes let out another shrill cry, his head lowering to be at the same level as your much smaller form.

“Lykiri Caraxes,” though he could barely speak above his normal tone, both you and Caraxes heard him quite clearly.

At the sight of his rider, somewhat healthy and standing, Caraxes let out another shrill cry. Though you swear this one sounded much higher pitched. All before he himself also lightly limped away and slumped to the ground not so far away from your fireplace.

“Daemon,” you spoke before rushing towards him to support him. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet!”

At the sudden reprimand, he laughed, “And let you be eaten by Caraxes?”

You huffed, “He wouldn’t, I’ve been tending him for far too long.” You took a nervous glance towards the beast, “At least I hope he wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t.” Daemon states, leaning his head towards your own. Treasuring the feeling of your body against his. “How?” The question hangs heavy in the air.

“Well he’s been unconscious far longer than you have so it was easy to try and patch by his wounds. My only fear was if he didn’t wake up he wouldn’t be able to eat anything, so every now and again I’d leave dead sheep around him in case he wakes up so he could immediately eat. But for the dressing, I don’t have enough cloth to bandage or do anything so I used soft leaves. It’s what I used when I first got here so I thought it’d be al-”

Though you misunderstand the question, Daemon can’t help but feel amused by your lack of hesitancy in speaking. He wouldn’t expect you to go on a tangent like you do now back when the two of you were still in King’s Landing. Years before the war.

“I mean, how are you alive,” he questions after silence over his laughter cutting you off.

At the question, the mood thickens.

“Let’s talk inside.”

You supported Daemon as he staggered inside the small house. Sitting him down lightly over the makeshift bed you’ve been able to make with cloth, feathers, and several different kinds of pelts.

There when the two of you got comfortable you handed him a drinking bowl of warm tea as you sipped on your own. Only after the two of you finished both your tea did you start.

You told him about your banishment, and how Alicent and Otto Hightower framed you for witchcraft and conspiring against the crown. How it was only due to your connection with Rhaenyra that you were able to miss the death sentence. Then you told him about your life in banishment. Essos hadn’t been too bad.

Of course, it took a lot to learn new skills and put them to work. But there were a surprising amount of kind people in the area, especially the worshipers and monks. They taught you how to survive, but you couldn’t leech off of their kindness forever.

So with what little gold you had from working odd jobs here and there, you left for a stranded area. With what survival skills you’d learn you had slowly built a home for yourself. The beach was what brought Daemon and Caraxes to you. Caraxes had been bloodied and mangled. Yet he desperately held Daemon in his claws as he dragged Daemon’s body across the sand.

It was only when he saw you that he collapsed, leaving both the large dragon and his rider to your care. For the past month, you had been making the trip from your home to the beach to care for both Daemon and Caraxes.

Only today did Caraxes find it in himself to wake and fly, though barely. It was when Caraxes landed on your home did Daemon woke up.

That brought you to that very moment.

After you finished, there was a great silence between the two of you.

Daemon was the first to break it.

“I’m sorry.”

Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Rogue Prince, the red wyrm’s rider, amongst his many titles and nicknames, seldom apologised. But with nothing else to his name or on his tongue at this very moment, he thought of the only thing he could say, an apology.

You smiled, casting your gaze to your hands, sheepishly shying away from his intense look as you thought of how to answer him.

“What do you have to apologise for, Daemon?”

His name fell like honey off your tongue, like a choir of songbirds, like the sweetest of fruits from Highgarden. The simple act of it threatened to bring tears to his eyes. How long he had waited for that? For you, to say his name one more time.

He remembered the last time he’d prayed to the gods in his adulthood. It was when he first heard of your banishment. Atop of Caraxes, the beast felt Daemon’s fear and anger clutch against his heart as the red beast ripped through clouds and skies trying to look for any semblance of you. Daemon prayed then. Prayed to find you, prayed to hear you, prayed to see you.

Anything.

No gods heard his plead that night and so he stopped.

But now it felt like every wish he had ever spoken had come true.

There were no words left to speak. Only actions.

Careful and dainty actions, considering Daemon’s physical state. Your lips pressed and moulded against one another. Letting years upon years of pent-up yearning and hopes spill through a single act.

Your heart soared, here was the man you loved, finally in your bed. No more words were spoken that night. Only sighs and soft moans of pleasure and contentment were heard throughout the lone and simple house.

As the two of you lay in one another’s company, new hopes soared between the two of you. And Daemon promises one last thing, a promise he intends to fulfil this time.

The promise of bringing you back home to Dragonstone once Caraxes and he can.

Why Daemon? “Once I had wondered what was holding’ up the ground // But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down // Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We’ll gloat away, but if we fall // I only pray, don’t fall away from me.” The song references to Icarus and Deadalus, the myth speaks about the Greek value of moderation. Icarus falls because he is so enchanted by his godly visage and his lightness that he’s enchanted by the sun and the wax melts. Hozier talks about an all encompassing feeling of falling in love that encompasses your being so much so that you’d do anything for your love. In more ways than one, both the Reader and Daemon have fallen from grace due to their love for one another. It’s the godly pull they have with each other that leads to Reader’s banishment and Daemon’s belief that she’s dead. The song inspires the last and first part of Daemon and Reader’s romance story, they lean on one another in more ways than one. Reader becomes Daemon’s friend, a true and honest friend built on mutual respect and affection. Whilst Daemon becomes Reader’s confidant, someone to go for comfort and source of joy. By the end of the story, neither thinks about the past, Daemon doesn’t care about the way the Reader has been living and Reader doesn’t care too much about why Daemon and Caraxes’ so injured. The two of them just cares for each other that nothing else matters and I think that’s so fucking sweet.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x you #daemon #daemon fluff #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst

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bonefall · 2 months

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Do you have a design for Bright Storm? I'm fond of the wise older figure thing you're doing with her

I do NOW

Made her, as well as a revamp of my old Thunder Storm design (I last drew him like a year ago!!) in preparation for some character summaries I plan to bang out after finishing a couple drafts, but Bright in particular gets requested so much (anon you're like the 4th person) that HERE, lady girl and her son be upon ye

I'm thinking about doing the BB!DOTC character summaries in "family" posts, so they're all grouped together the way I plan them to act in the story. Every family is telling a little mini-story of its own, in a way, from the Frost family and their inventing prowess, to the Heart family and how the kits react to Bumble's exile, to the Storm family and how they grapple with Clear Sky's influence.

I wanted to make sure Bright Storm was very large and powerful looking, but in a round, kind of "humble" way. She downplays her strength, her intelligence, and even her better judgement.

So she has these big cheeks, fluffy primordial pouch, poofy tail, keeps her head low-ish. Tends to deny compliments.

I was commiserating with my partner the other day about how intelligent characters aren't allowed to be thick-bodied. So between my fat, beloved Bumble the translator and Bright Storm the wise woman battle strategist I'm feeding us both

I needed to "finalize" their stripe pattern, because I actually plan for TIGERSTAR to have the same one. I'm probably going to update my Tawnypelt and Bramblestar designs to have it too; if they don't look better with Goldenflower's.

I just like the irony and bitterness of it. That these ancient stripes, once so associated with compassion and righteous fury, turn into a "legacy" so divorced from what Thunder Storm and Bright Storm stood for.

Becoming a symbol for the idea of modern ThunderClan and the culture of the new times, not the principles it was founded on.

Also I HAD to do the design thing where Thunder Storm's stripes look like top surgery scars lmao, my beloved transmasc boy

Anyway, I've decided that Thunder Storm was a REALLY dark orange. It bugs me a little, especially in-canon, that he looks nothing like either parent. So in BB he's not too far off color-wise from his mama.

I also removed the old "mane" and replaced it with combination white chest + his father's shoulder burls. The mane is going to become a Forest Cat trait, which is why it's going to get so prominent in ThunderClan.

Instead, Mountain Cats have a REALLY high concentration of ear tufts in their genes. They're also huge and generally hairy.

Funny enough though they're also "oily." They come from the Lake Cat population which was pretty water-resistant because of constantly dealing with the lake, and they haven't lived in the Mountains long enough for natural selection to get rid of it.

It's going to become SUPER advantageous for those who move to the River Kingdom, but become less prominent in the other populations.

But for now, Mountain Cats are kinda... well, naturally 'stinky.' That's not a BAD thing to cats who are animals who LIKE strong smells, but it is a notable trait that I'd like The Wind Runner in particular to comment on.

Thunder Storm: "Well? What did she say?"

Bumble: "Ummmmmm......"

Thunder Storm: "be honest"

Bumble: "she says she smelled you coming when you were upwind. rudely."

99% of the time when I'm changing character eye colors, it's to make them NOT blue because there's too many blue-eyed characters in WC imo. BUT.

I think it was another tiny waste to have the narrative constantly stressing Clear Sky's blue, blue eyes, almost like they're hypnotizing, and then they never really comment on what Thunder's eye color signals to other people.

So I've got an idea; instead of amber, Thunder Storm has ELECTRIC BLUE eyes. Almost green, like his mother's minty ones.

Intense as his father's, but more focused. Sharp. Shocking.

Side note: in my research I actually learned it's easier for tripod cats to RUN than it is for them to walk. They can "canter" like a horse, but when they go slow they have to hop. Taking this into consideration.

I put a splash of white on the little bit of lower limb that Thunder Storm has on the leg, so it sticks out a bit more. I don't want it to be hidden I want it to be prominent

I also figured out a hilarious trick for Bright Storm to pull on Sky's Clan at some point lmao

Thunder's crew is in conflict with Sky's cats and the attacks are getting more and more frequent. They decide they need some extra time to carry out some kind of hunt or diplomatic mission, but Bright Storm only has a small group of cats to pull off a stunt with.

She knows she can't fight them head on, but she NEEDS to buy her son more time, so she hatches a plan.

Clear Sky values his intelligence and his ferocity very much. To a fault, even. He loves to outsmart his opponents and overpower them-- so Bright Storm gets all her cats to build a very large, very tall, nearly impenetrable wall out of briar thorns. There's only one way in; the well-guarded tunnel they've constructed in the front.

It would be a challenge for a lesser cat. But Clear Sky, clever devil he is, realizes they've made a fatal flaw; they've built their camp right next to the trees. His fighters don't need to jump over the wall or push through it, the oaks are their allies!

So, while Thunder's cats are all surely sleeping, he gathers his best men and come through the canopy. In well-trained patrols, they swoop down into the camp and prepare for battle.

and no one is there.

You see, there was only one way in... and only one way out.

And Clear Sky and his best fighters watch with HORROR as the tiny crew of guards seals that entrance up like the neck of a bag. There are no trees to climb INSIDE the wall, and it's too tall to hop out of. It won't hold them forever, but it will hold them JUST LONG ENOUGH.

Bright calls this little plan "Operation Timeout."

#I can't help it. Ever since I mentioned how cool a warlord gray wing would be now I can't stop thinking about Bright Storm doing--#Art of War Looney Tunes tactics lmao #LET THE BATTLE CATS BATTLE #BB!DOTC #BB!Bright Storm #BB!Thunder Storm #BB!Thunderstar #Better Bones AU #It feels very fitting for Bright to have a lot of very ''annoying'' but nonlethal plans like that #Though she CAN and WILL hurt others to defend her family #She doesn't LIKE doing that.#One thing I do want her to keep from Gray is his aversion to violence #But unlike him she's able to come to terms with the fact she HAS to defend what she loves.#And though a lot of it does come from the love she had for Clear... it also comes from her compassion and kindness towards others.#She's been lead astray and blinded by her love of him in the past (especially in how she abetted what happened to Bumble)#But unlike Canon!Gray she's ashamed of what she did after she sits with the consequences #She doesn't want to hurt anyone. But she did. She let it happen. Contributed even #And that's rough.#YOUR HONOR. I LIKE HER.

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mono-dot-jpeg · 10 months

Text

child support - kafka & himeko

summary; you miss your parents but it's okay, you got new ones now.

genre/extra tags; fluff, found family, himeko & kafka give me divorced couple energy but in a good way, possibly ooc kafhime, almost mute! reader, kafka pays the child support, comfort vibes only, slight angst ig????

[gender neutral reader] [platonic] [7-8 yrs old! reader]

[warnings; implied child abandonment, describing hypothermia symptoms (in the first-ish half)]

word count; 1.1k

a/n; you know it took me a solid few moments and a google search to figure what kafhime was bc i forgot that shipping exists for a moment. i don't really engage in shipping especially when i know that some people,,, transfer over to games from the same company they like and those people can be... weird or in my face about shipping. but who am i to judge. also kaf and hime can be interpreted as just two rude besties or just platonic (/hj) this fic is more long winded than i expected. idk, it was a little bit difficult to figure out. but hope you enjoy!

cold. everything was so cold.

how have you even managed for so long? you thought you were a goner. the people who first found you almost thought you were a goner with how despondent you were stuck in the old rickety house you once lived in. you were so tired, so gone in your mind, you couldn't feel anything. you were lucky to live, that's what you heard from the doctors.

why did fate leave you like this?

"hello dear. are you feeling any better?" a gentle motherly voice rings in the warm room. the room was a bit warmer than the rest, maybe it was just for your sake or this was just a normal thing. you weren't sure. you lived out in belobog after all. a palace of ice and a hundred winters. but it's not like you remember much of what even got you out in the dangerous cold in the first place.

you feel a hand press against your forehead. "colder than winter itself. poor kid." the same voice speaks again. "perhaps she can help me out for this." the hand moves away from you, making a weak cry leave your lips. "sorry. sorry. i guess it isn't warm enough for you in here." she apologized. "perhaps pompom can find some more fluffy blankets."

you twist and turn as her open thought chatter starts to wake you up more. you turn to rest on your side and find an unfamiliar woman as you're in an unfamiliar room. you choke up in fear as you struggle to get up and keep yourself far away from her.

"dear, you're barely even recovered! don't move too quickly!" it's too late for her words and you can't even get that far away. your tiny body is heavy and you only manage to move not even 2 inches away. the red head doesn't make any move to startle you. "i know you must be scared. i'm here to help you." she lowers herself to face eye level with you. "do you remember anything?"

you don't say a word and stare.

"we don't have to talk about it. you don't need to say anything. just nod or shake your head, does that sound okay?" she smiles gently, hoping to appear as not as scary to you.

you hesitantly nod.

"thank you for answering. you must still be feeling cold, right?"

nod.

she grabbed a nearby blanket, "is it okay if i drape this over you? won't touch you or anything." she glances at you, making sure you either nod or shake your head.

you slowly nod, remembering how cold you are.

she doesn't make any fast movements, noting your flinchy behavior. she wraps the blanket around your shoulders gently but you still flinch when it touches you.

"now what's this about a little child?" you flinch at a new voice. another feminine voice that you find a bit more melodic than the warm tones of the other. then another lady enters. you inch towards the farthest corner of the bed.

"kafka, you're going to scare them."

"aw, don't be so mean." she pretends to sound hurt but her voice is teasing. "where did you find the kid?"

"in belobog. outside of the city. well, trailblazer, march and dan heng found them. they were stuck in the freezing snow." kafka's face grimaces at the thought of seeing you stuck in the snow helpless without anyone able to find you. "but anyways, you should head out, lest the others know about you being here so suddenly."

"i paid for the items you're giving to the little star, at least let me stay for a little while longer." himeko sighs before realizing.

"i forgot to introduce myself-" the red head looks over at you who is covered in blanket, attempting to hide yourself. "see, you did scare them!" she muttered to the other. "i'm sorry about her, dear. my name is himeko. this is kafka."

"sorry for scaring you, little one. i tend to do that." kafka hummed. "well, that aside, miss himeko over here and i, we want to take care of you. but we can't be doing that when you're stuck in your little cocoon." she gently chuckled. you slowly get out of the blankets, head peeking out to look up at the lady. "well, that's a start. have you eaten yet?" she asked.

you don't say anything but your belly grumbles.

"i know what would take care of that." himeko smiled. you hear the knocks at the door but no figure enters but you hear shuffling. "pompom got some food for you, himeko!" and you find yourself face to face with a cute living rabbit in a conductor's outfit. himeko gets up opening the door and grabbing the plate of food.

"thank you pompom." himeko hummed as she closes the door. kafka soon moves to sit by the bed. you still stay head peeked with the blankets as you stare at the plate of food and then himeko. himeko walked over. "this is for you, dear. you can stay on the bed if you want. me and kafka will be right back." the redhead places a hand on kafka's shoulder, slowly pushing her as they both leave into what you assume is a bathroom. once they do, you can hear them talking but you're too focused on eating to care about the conversation.

you finish eating and you're feeling much better than before but it doesn't stop you from keeping away from himeko and kafka. it makes them a little sad but they're so patient as they converse with you as if nothing's wrong.

you don't really answer or say anything really. you just nod or shake your head depending on what they ask you. and they seem satisfied with that.

"can you give us your name? unless you're still uncomfortable."

you tell them your name weakly.

"what a lovely name. now. i'm sorry that we have to get a little heavy but, have you always been living out of the city in your home?"

you give a small nod.

"what about your parents?" himeko speaks softly and carefully. she watches as your eyes water and you shake your head. "oh, sorry, sorry. let it out." she moves to sit by you in the bed. kafka sighs.

"of course we couldn't have known about that but would you like to stay with me and himeko? i know himeko wouldn't want to leave you in a state like this."

you think for a moment, well.. there's nowhere else to really go. you nodded. and you watch as two gentle smiles grow. you feel a bit calmer and you can feel some reassurance that you have a chance to continue your life.

#honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr kafka #kafka honkai star rail #kafka x reader #himeko x reader #hsr himeko #himeko honkai star rail #himeko hsr

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the-hawthorns-ocs · 8 months

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Soothsayer Spindle'stare

MY ABSOLUTE FAVE OC EVER! MY SKRUNKLY!!!!

Character Bio:

Kinship: The Hawthorns

Queer (loves wife <3); what's a gender? (agender); it/she

Age: 3 cycles, 11 moons; ~31 Hyrs

Voice Headcanon: Entrapta - She-Ra - And The Princesses of Power (but like if she smoked a pack-o-sigs a day???)

Title meaning: -stare = uhh stares, like a lot, its weird, does it blink???; Soothsayer specific -> this cat can see into your soul and across the vail of death and see what your future holds

Role: Soothsayer

Mother: River'riddle

Father: Monarch Bat'flight

Siblings: Monarch Light'fall

Mate: Worm'soil

Other notable kin: Heir Night (nephew)

Extra Notes: her name was originally Garlicnose but after a series of polls I have decided on Spindle'stare as it's new name! Hooray!

Character Summary:

this ones long bec she's my blorbo, sorry not sorry :P

Soothsayers are born absolute weirdos, that's actually how a Kinship can tell that a cat is probably a Soothsayer. They are all not entirely there, because they walk the line between the living and the dead, this gives them the gift of foresight into the future and the ability to commune with the dead, but it also makes them distant, odd, they act like their minds are often in a whole other plane from regular cats.

In Spindle'stare's case, its just really kooky, an absolute creature. Though she is also very traumatized, which is kinda a given for Soothsayers... but it's even worse for her. As a kit her connection to the Stars was almost entirely cut off, and was instead taken over by the Dark Maw... The Maw wanted control over the Hawthorns, and becoming their future Soothsayer's spiritual source was one of the best ways to do this.

Deep deep down I think that Spindle knows there is something off about her spiritual connection, but she doesn't really process this at all. She pretty much believes that she has a normal connection and is totally talking to the Stars and not the Dark Maw. Sometimes she gets a random breakthrough connection to the Stars and is bombarded by so many messages and warnings from the ancestors she is pretty much unable to process it and just becomes even more confused and overwhelmed, acting even more strange than normal.

As a result of the Dark Maw's hold on Spindle, the Soothsayer has not been able to aid the kinship in ways it should be able to. During Spindle's training and apprenticeship the Kinship went through a horrible illness that killed many many cats, everyone questioned why Spindle was unable to receive prophecies foretelling these deaths, or guiding them to a cure... Spindle was simply helpless and useless in a time what the kinship needed a spiritual guide the most... This event has left the Kinship not all too trusting of Spindle's guidance, and has left Spindle lost and confused as to why the Stars do not with to help her.

Though Spindle seems like an old kooky lady she is actually only around 4 cycles old aka. in her early 30s in human years. Spindle was littermates with Monarch Light'fall, they were extremally close, and Light was often the only one who could keep her stable, in the present, and more herself. Spindle was devastated at Light'fall's death and she fell deeper into the spiritual plane as a result, only Spinde'stare's mate Worm'soil is able to bring Spindle into clarity these days, and it is far more difficult to do so.

Spindle spends much of it's time with her mate Worm'soil, they are one of the few cats who are not creeped out by her, they understand her and love it deeply despite it's strangeness. They were childhood friends, and grew even closer during the era of illness in their youth... both of them bonded over the extreme pressure on them at the time, Spindle with the expectation of life saving prophecies and omens, and Worm with the health of the Kinship as a Healer apprentice.

The two of them are now two fucked up middle aged women(ish) who are just trying to survive their high stress roles in their very problematic kinship... They can often be found hanging out on their lonesome together, with Spindle buried in Worm's fluff <3

#I forgor to post this for mothssss im sorry T-T #cryptid's the hawthorns #spindle'stare #warrior cats #warriors ocs #soothsayer #xenofiction #warriors #warrior cats ocs

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bobohu4eva · 1 year

Text

Messy

Part 1/2

Characters: Reader x Baekhyun

Genre: Enemies(ish) to lovers, roommates, smut

WC: 7k

Masterlist

“I swear to god..” You mumbled to yourself, walking out into your living room to find it once again trashed by your asshole roommate, Baekhyun.

You started picking up the beer cans from the night before, annoyed but not surprised by his lack of consideration. This was how a lot of Saturday mornings would go. You’d be kept up late by Baekhyun and his friend’s loud laughter and music, and the next morning your kitchen and living room would be left a mess of empty beer cans, boxes of food, and whatever else he and his friends happened to drag in. On particularly unlucky nights, like the one prior, you’d have to listen to him “entertain” a lady guest as well. Quite loudly.

It was obnoxious. When you had first allowed Baekhyun to move in it was because you desperately needed someone to help out with rent, and he just happened to show up. He liked the place, and had the money, so you let him move in. But things went downhill quickly when the semester started and he started inviting people over for parties every other weekend, leaving your home a mess in the process. And he sure as hell wouldn’t clean it up himself, at least not until days later, which was too long for you. So you had to spend your Saturday mornings cleaning up his messes.

Luckily he wasn’t dirty, just messy. On days when he wasn’t having people over he was actually fairly clean, it was when he’d throw his little parties and get drunk that he’d leave it so bad. But it was getting really, really, old.

You’d finally gathered a majority of the beer cans when you heard a door open and a small dark haired girl emerged from Baekhyun’s bedroom, obviously still in last night's clothes. You didn’t recognize her, as per usual. Baekhyun rarely took the same girl home twice. It made sense that he was a fuckboy, despite how much you hated to admit it, he was hot, even if in a very extra and obnoxious way. He kept his hair in a mullet, and recently he’d even added red streaks for some extra flair. Even the way he dressed with his skin tight jeans and colorful shirts was annoying to you.

Living with him was slowly starting to eat away at you, if you were being completely honest with yourself. You didn’t like him. Not at all. Having to live in the same space as someone you disliked so much was terrible. The worst part was that you knew he didn’t care at all.

Once you’d finally gotten the majority of the mess cleaned up and had the living room looking half decent again, you heard his door again and this time it was him who stepped out into the living room.

He looked around, acknowledging you and the now clean apartment, before grabbing himself a glass of water.

“You’re not even gonna thank me this time for cleaning up after your shit?”

He just stared at you for a second before shaking his head, rolling his eyes, and turning to walk back towards his room.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that right?”

“Yeah sure whatever, I'm too hungover for this.” He said before retreating back into his room and closing the door behind him. .

As angry as you were, you knew arguing with him was useless. He simply didn’t care if what he did bothered you and had no intention to change his behavior at all. He always said you just needed to learn to chill. That you were too high strung, and maybe he was right, you were never good at dealing with messes, and it probably bothered you more than it should’ve, but it was also just him and the way he acted in general. When you’d first met him he didn’t have that stupid mullet yet, and he had just moved into town for university. You actually thought that he was sweet, and above all else, clean. You thought that maybe you two could even learn to get along fairly well. But when he started making friends and going to parties he grew more and more aloof, until he was nothing more than another messy, asshole fuckboy in your eyes.

You retreated back to your room, avoiding seeing or talking to him for the rest of the day.

Usually you just didn’t speak to one another. If he was in the common space when you needed to use it you’d simply put in headphones and try to ignore him. Oftentimes he would just go with it, leaving you unbothered as he did whatever it was he was doing, but other days he would make it his mission to piss you off.

Later that same week, one of those days came. You could hear him watching TV in the living room, while you needed to make dinner. You were tired of waiting, so you decided to just go do it and pay him no attention.

At first he left you alone, but when you started cooking the bacon for your carbonara he, unfortunately, appeared next to you.

“That smells so good.”

You ignored him.

“Wanna make enough for two?”

“Not a chance Baekhyun.”

He huffed, giving you his best fake pout. “You’re always so mean to me.”

It was always like this. This stupid little game he liked to play with you.

“Yeah because you’re an asshole. Make your own food.”

Baekhyun just giggled, clearly pleased that he was succeeding in his mission to annoy you. “But you know I can’t cook for shit, come on please?” As the last word came out he leaned forwards, blocking your view of the pan with his face.

“You’re getting bacon grease in your hair.”

He snapped his head up, running his hands through his hair in concern and you scoffed.

“But I haven’t eaten since this morning and it smells so goood come onnn y/n.” He whined. Why did he always have to be so dramatic?

“Not my problem.” You spoke as you took the bacon off the stove, getting your noodles ready.

He caught your eyes again and you made note of the mischievous glint they showed you. He looked at you for a little while before speaking again.

“What if I promise I won’t have anyone over this weekend?”

That caught you off guard. Was he really bargaining with you right now, for some damn noodles?

“You want it that bad?”

“So do we have a deal then?” He smirked.

You thought about it, and at the end of the day making some extra pasta was still far less annoying than spending hours cleaning up after him.

“Fine.”

Baekhyun grinned and made his way back to the couch, humming happily. You rolled your eyes as you got out more bacon.

You were grateful that he at least left you alone while you were cooking. When the pasta was done you set his bowl down on the coffee table before walking away towards your bedroom door.

“Where are you going?”

You turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. “To my room. To eat in peace.”

“Aw, really?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought you liked this show too.” He said as he gestured towards the TV.

He was right, it was one of your favorite shows even. But you’d still rather watch it by yourself in your room.

“And?”

“Come sit and eat with me.” He said it like it was the most normal thing ever.

You let out a dry laugh. “No way.”

“Why not?” He pouted.

“You’re just gonna be annoying the whole time and talk over the show. And it’s not like we’re friends.”

“I promise I won’t talk! Just sit down, you know the couch is comfier than your desk chair anyway and your noodles are getting cold.”

You sighed, but sat down on the opposite end of the couch. It was much comfier. If he hadn’t been out there you would’ve been anyway, watching the same thing. As long as he didn’t talk, you could just act like he wasn’t there. Hopefully.

To your relief he actually stayed true to his word, too busy devouring his pasta to speak anyway. You still felt incredibly awkward sitting there with him. You never did this. You couldn’t even remember the last time you two had a meal together. His presence was enough to make you uneasy and when a sex scene started playing in the show, you got up, abandoning your bowl of pasta on the coffee table.

“Are you seriously leaving because of a little sex scene?” Baekhyun laughed. “You’re such a prude.”

“I am not a prude! I’m just not watching that with you.”

“You so are though.”

“My sex life is none of your business.”

“You don’t have one anyway.” He almost sang out, you clearly hear the smirk on his lips, mocking you.

He was having way too much fun with this. You wanted to smack the stupid grin off his stupid perfect face so bad.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh yes I do, you’ve never even brought a guy home before.” He chuckled.

“Just cause I’m not a whore like you doesn’t mean I’m barren.”

He let out a little fake gasp, but you knew better than to think he was actually offended by that. “Whore is such a strong word, I prefer to think of myself as someone who likes to indulge in the various physical pleasures life has to offer.”

“So you’re a manwhore.”

“So you’re a prude.”

You groaned, and he was still just grinning smugly up at you from his position on the couch.

“I’m not a prude.”

He stood up, standing himself directly in front of you, close enough that you felt yourself stepping backwards but he kept moving closer, until you found yourself trapped between him and the wall.

“Well then bring a guy home sometime and maybe I’ll believe you.” He challenged, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes never failing to provoke you. “I’ve never had any trouble getting girls to come home with me.”

He said it with such a gross lopsided smile, you had to fight the urge to throw your noodles at him.

“I know, Baekhyun, because I unfortunately have to hear it every time.”

“And you listen? Weirdo.” He wrinkled his nose up in disgust, but you knew he didn’t actually care if you heard. “But I guess I can’t say I’m surprised since you don’t seem to have sex at all or if you do it’s incredibly boring.”

At this point you were fuming, and Baekhyun was having a fantastic time. This was exactly what he loved to do. To get you all riled up, arguing with him about something he didn’t even really care about, because he knew it would get a rise out of you. He was surprised again and again by how easy it was to get you like this.

He thought it was so cute.

“I do not have boring sex!”

He scoffed, clearly unconvinced.

He knew you were bullshitting and so did you. Truth be told though, you didn’t have boring sex, because you hadn’t had sex at all since he moved in, or even in the months before that. There’d been a pretty gnarly breakup and you hadn’t felt comfortable going out and meeting new people yet. But of course Baekhyun knew nothing about that.

“Well if you ever wanna know what good sex is like, you know where to find me.” He said casually, smiling as he twirled a strand of your hair around one pretty finger of his, watching as it fell back to frame your face. And with that, he turned and walked into his room, shutting the door behind him with a big stupid smirk on his annoyingly gorgeous face.

For a minute you just stood there. Your brain was still trying to process what he had said, and no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself you heard wrong, you hadn’t. You heard him loud and clear.

There was no way he could actually want to sleep with you though, right? He had to just be saying that to get to you. The thought of doing anything like that with him was something you vehemently fought off. Of course he was attractive, even if it was in a very obnoxious way, but as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help being attracted to him. He was just hot.

But you were better than that, you told yourself, and either way, he was too much of an asshole for you to even consider it.

That Friday evening you let yourself relax knowing that at least you wouldn’t be bothered by him and his friends making a mess of the place. And what a relief it was. After a nice relaxing bath and maybe one more glass of wine than necessary, you found yourself falling fast asleep, free of any dread of the morning to come.

When you woke up you felt refreshed and when you remembered the deal you’d made you let out a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself. You’d be able to get up and get ready and make yourself a nice breakfast in a clean kitchen. He didn’t seem to be awake yet, so you’d finally be able to have a peaceful Saturday morning.

After washing your face and putting on your favorite hoodie you turned the corner from the hallway where the bedrooms were towards the kitchen and living room.

You felt all the joy drain from your body when your eyes met the room in front of you.

The coffee table was barely visible beneath the blanket of takeout containers and beer cans, and the couch was littered with dirty napkins. His guest didn’t seem to care to take their shoes off either, judging by the amount of dirt stuck in the carpet, and the longer you stood there, the more you noticed the unpleasant smell of seafood that sat out too long coming from the dirty dishes all over the kitchen.

The anger that filled your body was more intense than on any other morning. You had made a deal. This was the one day you were supposed to get to relax. One morning to relax and not deal with his shit. That was all you wanted.

You briefly considered banging on his door and demanding that he clean up his mess but you knew that wouldn’t work. He’d just laugh at you for being ‘dramatic‘. As much as you hated it you still wanted to try to have a decent morning, so you got to work cleaning it all up.

The beer cans, the takeout containers, and the smelly piles of dishes felt like they were mocking you, and the more you did the more you realized that you were still pissed and this time you wouldn’t just get over it. When you finally had everything clean and made your breakfast you sat down and turned on a show to watch as you ate.

You turned around when you heard yawning, narrowing your eyes at your roommate.

“Looks nice in here.” He commented.

“You better be fucking kidding” You felt the anger rising again.

He shrugged nonchalantly. He once again didn’t care.

You watched as he went to make himself a coffee and you stood up and walked over to him.

“We made a deal.” You were pissed. You hoped your tone would be enough for him to know not to fuck with you but that’s wasn’t the case.

He just shrugged again. “We were gonna go to a buddies house but something came up. Sorry princess.”

When he went to put a hand on your shoulder in mock solidarity for the stress you had to endure on his behalf, you lost it, yanking his arm away from yourself and going off on him.

“Dont fucking touch me! I’m so tired of you! This was supposed to be the one day I don’t have to deal with this.”

Baekhyun took a step back, not at all expecting this kind of outburst from you. You hated that you were an angry cryer, and inevitably tears started to spill over as you continued your yelling at him.

“School is stressful enough and for once I just wanted to be able to relax and you promised you wouldn’t have people over! Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? Are you so self absorbed that you never even consider that someone else lives here too?! You’re such a fucking asshole Byun! You don’t give a shit about anything but yourself!”

He just stared back, mouth slightly parted in shock, not even fully awake yet. At this point you were hysterical, fully crying as you kept pushing the words out between sobs.

“You think I’m so uptight and prude but really you’re just an inconsiderate piece of shit. I’m so fucking done with you.”

And with that, you turned around, going to your room and slamming the door behind you.

Baekhyun still just stood there, processing your words to him.

You’d never cried in front of him before, and you felt the embarrassment start to consume you as you curled back up into bed, still crying as you let out the last of your frustrations. You didn’t mean to blow up the way you did, but you’d suppressed so much of your frustration with him, when you finally let it out it was overwhelming.

You never wanted him to see you in a moment of weakness like that, and you could only imagine how crazy he thought you were now. He already thought you were a bit odd for how you got onto him about his messes, you hoped that your outburst would at least help him take you more seriously, though. You wished you didn’t have to care what he thought about you.

That day Baekhyun didn’t try to engage you any further, and you were grateful. He stayed in his room, and you stayed in yours.

It took you a whole day to leave your room again. You had waited until you knew he was in his room, and cautiously approached the kitchen, expecting to find some mess of his in there mocking you. However you didn’t find anything of the sort, in fact the whole common space was spotless. When you opened the fridge you saw a box of your favorite cheap white wine, with a note attached.

“I’m sorry.”

You gave the box a puzzled look.

Baekhyun felt bad. For the first time since he’d moved in, he actually felt some remorse for how he treated you. You almost couldn’t believe it.

The next few days felt incredibly odd to the both of you. Baekhyun actually cleaned more than you did, even doing your dishes if you left them out for more than an hour or two.

As usual, you didn’t talk to him. Even if the both of you were in the same room. But the strange thing was, he didn’t try to speak to you either. By now he usually would’ve made some dumb joke to piss you off, but he said nothing.

It was almost a full week later when he finally got the courage to talk to you again. Your birthday was coming up, so he cooked for the both of you, the one meal he knew how to make; mac and cheese.

You were surprised when he knocked on your door that evening.

When you opened it for him he wasn’t wearing his usual sarcastic smirk, just a small, slightly nervous looking smile.

“I made dinner. I thought we could eat together.”

You looked up at him with a look of confusion. “Why do you want to eat together?”

“I just thought it might be good for us. You don’t have to talk to me. We can just put on a show and eat in silence.”

You thought it was a strange request, but you were getting hungry, and he was offering to feed you, so you agreed.

It was odd seeing Baekhyun in this light, when he wasn’t being obnoxious, and he was actually looking at you and speaking to you with a completely serious look on his face. It did not match the image of the man you were used to, with his loud mouth and flamboyant hair. With how he usually acted it was easy to forget that he was an actual human with thoughts and feelings, no matter the aloof fuckboy front he usually put up.

Just as he had promised, the both of you sat on the couch in silence and watched the show as you ate your dinner together. He didn’t try to tease you about anything, he just let you eat, until you were finished and he took both of your bowls to the kitchen to wash them.

You watched as he did the dishes and you realized something. It was almost 9pm on a Friday night. And he didn’t have anyone over.

Before you could question yourself any further, you blurted it out. “Do you want some wine?”

He looked up from the dishes, pausing, as if he needed to check that he’d heard correctly.

“Sure.”

So you poured two glasses, and you were both back on the couch. You couldn’t help but smile as you took your first sip, because this time you knew there wouldn’t be a mess in the morning.

You still didn’t understand the sudden shift in his behavior towards you, but that was okay. You assumed that he really was sorry, as the note suggested, he was just too proud to say it out loud yet. The two of you talked a little the more you drank, but not about anything noteworthy. Just polite small talk.

It was frustrating, because you were coming to realize that it was actually easier to hate him. The less he annoyed you, the more you noticed the little things about him. The sharpness of his jawline in contrast to the soft features of his face. How pretty his hands were. How strong his back looked in a fitted T shirt.

You needed him to start being obnoxious again.

The following morning when you were making breakfast your prayers were answered when he appeared behind you in his sleepy state, voice still low and rough.

“I do hope you’re making enough for both of us.” He grumbled into your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You turned around, leaving a light slap on his chest. “And if I’m not?”

“Then I guess I’ll have to go to my room again and cry myself back to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me! You should be thanking me right now.”

“I should be thanking you? For what?” You scoffed.

“It’s Saturday morning and everything is clean.” He said proudly, raising his eyebrows and shooting you his best smile.

You gave him a blank stare. “I’m not going to congratulate you for being a decent person. I never should’ve had to clean up after you in the first place.”

His brows furrowed and a pout formed on his lips. He was just wearing a thin white t-shirt and black sweats but he still looked so good. You really hated it. He had no right to look like that, this early in the day, after rolling right out of bed. He didn’t have his contacts in yet so he was wearing his glasses. You found it silly how someone with such an obnoxiously douchey look could wear such dorky round glasses, but you figured that was why he never wore them outside. It was an interesting contrast to his disheveled black and red hair, and the broadness of his shoulders and chest. As much as he might try to fight it, there were certain things about him that you couldn’t help but find cute. The way his glasses sat on his round little nose, the tired droopiness in his eyes, and the little pout on his pink lips. He was making it very difficult for you to deny him.

“C’mon please? You know pancakes are my favorite.”

This wasn’t a battle you were going to win. You didn’t really want to anymore anyway.

“Fine. It’s too much batter just for me anyway.”

His face broke into a wide grin and his hand moved up to ruffle your hair. “Thanks princess.”

You cringed at the unexpected contact, trying your best to conceal your embarrassment.

The pet name was another thing. You knew that most other girls would be delighted to hear Baekhyun call them that, but to you it just felt like another one of those things he did to get under your skin. It didn’t feel sweet, it felt like you were being mocked, that he was calling you uptight and prissy. You hated it, and he knew you did, which made him want to do it even more.

He simply made his way over to the couch, plopping himself down happily. You rolled your eyes and continued on with the pancakes. When they were finished you brought him his plate and when you were about to turn to go to your room you felt his hand on your wrist.

“Come on, sit down.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanna eat with you.”

You gave him a look. “Okay, why do you wanna eat with me?”

He frowned. “Isn’t it a good thing for roommates to have meals together? You’re the one who asked me if I wanted some wine last night.”

“I should’ve just drank it myself.” You muttered.

“You know I really am sorry.”

Your eyes snapped to his face. You found yourself sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

“I didn’t realize all that stuff actually bothered you so much, I thought you were just a little extra with all the cleaning and that it was more annoying to you than anything else. I didn’t mean to upset you that bad.”

He was avoiding eye contact and seemed genuinely remorseful for his behavior, to your complete surprise.

“Um, thank you. I appreciate it.” You eventually responded weakly.

“You really meant it all those times you called me an asshole, huh? I never thought you actually disliked me so much.”

He sounded a bit sad as he said it. You thought it was obvious that you meant it, because why wouldn’t you? Was he just so used to women falling at his feet that he really thought you were still fond of him despite his behavior?

You sighed. “Yeah. I did mean it. You were really inconsiderate. It was super frustrating.”

“You know you make it way too easy though.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “Make what too easy?”

“Come on y/n you’d get so huffy and puffy about the littlest things it was just fun to get you all riled up. You’re so cute when you’re pissed.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. He wasn’t even wearing that usual dumb smirk you’d usually see after he said something like that. He looked completely serious.

You narrowed your eyes at him and let out a small dry laugh. “Well I’m glad my suffering is at least amusing for you.”

You absolutely did not want to address the fact that he’s just called you cute. If you let yourself dwell on it you knew you’d only lose your mind.

He hummed in agreement and you were rolling your eyes at him again. “I’m gonna miss it.” He said. “I wish I could still mess with you like that but I really don’t want you to hate me either.”

“Since when do you even care how I feel about you?”

“I always have! I just didn’t realize I annoyed you that bad is all. I thought maybe you just liked arguing with me. I know I love arguing with you, half the time I didn’t even care about whatever it was we were discussing. I just wanted to see you get all heated.”

He was having a wonderful time. He had a big grin on his still slightly tired face and you knew he meant every word he’d just said. But that also meant that despite what you’d thought in the past, Baekhyun actually did care about your perception of him. It seemed he might even be trying to get on your good side now.

“Are you really that bored all the time? That you have to bother me?”

“Come on y/n don’t lie I know you don’t actually hate being around me. If you did, you wouldn't have sat down earlier or offered me the wine last night.”

You really shouldn’t have offered him that wine.

He was right, but why? You didn’t even fully understand it yourself. Now that he stopped with the messes the most obnoxious part of having him as a roommate was gone. Without that to piss you off, you actually did like talking to him. He was stupid and ridiculous to you most of the time but it was still amusing.

“You’re a lot more tolerable when you aren’t filling our home with garbage.”

He smiled even wider. “Well I can’t promise that it’ll never happen again but I’ll try my best to keep it at a minimum if it really bothers you that much.”

You sighed. “You know I’m glad you’ve decided to be a little less terrible, but that doesn’t mean I want to be your friend either.”

That infuriating little pout made its way back to his stupid pretty face.

“Well, then can I make it up to you somehow?”

Why was he doing this? You never thought he cared about any of this. It made no sense to you that he was suddenly now feeling the need to be considerate after being anything but for months already.

“I don’t know… why do you even care?”

“Well if you think of anything let me know and I’ll do my best. We live together and I’d really rather not have any hard feelings between us. It makes it weird.”

Truth be told, Baekhyun really didn’t want to upset you. He thought it was cute and entertaining to mess with you but he thought it was all in good fun and that none of it was that serious. He also just liked having you around. Yes you cleaned, but he also thought you’d made the place look really nice, it always smelled good, and just having another person around was nice, especially when it was a pretty girl.

Occasionally Baekhyun entertained the thought of trying something with you, but he was still cautious since you were roommates and sex could easily complicate things. He noticed when you wouldn’t wear a bra, or walked around with a big T shirt on, thinking that he wouldn’t be able to tell that you only had underwear on underneath. You liked to be comfortable in your home and never thought twice about what you wore around him, and he knew that, but he still couldn’t help letting his eyes linger a little longer than they should. He found it surprising that you’d never seemed to notice.

But you had noticed. You just tried your best to ignore it and tell yourself that it didn’t matter.

You noticed it then too, when his eyes slowly drifted down from yours to your chest when he was done speaking. You never wore a bra to sleep, and you hadn’t bothered putting one on yet this morning. The shirt you wore was quite thin and a little fitted and you knew it left very little to the imagination.

“I’ll get back to you.” You said, and his eyes shot back up to yours. You almost scoffed, catching yourself just in time.

You knew how he looked at you at times, and more than anything it just made your blood boil. Doing anything like that with him was a monumentally terrible idea. It had stressed you out enough when he’d made that comment about showing you what good sex was like, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. Especially since you knew he wasn’t actually serious at all. He knew he was a very attractive person and he was just using that as another way to fuck with your head to boost his ego.

But god did it work. You wished you were immune but that just wasn’t possible. It was infuriating because as much as you disliked him and tried to avoid him there was still a part of you that was drawn to him. You hated to admit it, and you’d refused to in the past, but now that he was being nicer to you, you definitely had a thing for him. Even if it was mostly physical, there were aspects of his personality that you did actually like. Sure he was usually trying to do or say something that would piss you off but you had to admit that he was whitty and oftentimes it was pretty funny too. You could see how he so easily got girls to come home with him every weekend. Not only was he gorgeous he could be incredibly charming as well.

After finishing your pancakes you retreated back to your room, where you stayed. You really didn’t want to have to face him again, you’d had more than enough of him for the day.

That evening you felt yourself becoming uneasy as you watched dark storm clouds slowly moving closer through your window. According to your weather app it would be the first big storm of the season, and you felt the dread building within you as the sun began to set. You hated storms, and although you liked this apartment a lot, it was in an older building and it didn’t always feel the most secure when the weather would act up.

It was well after dark when the rain started and soon you were hiding under your blankets, blasting music through your headphones to try and drown out the sound of the rain and thunder. Unfortunately you could still hear most of it, and worst of all, you could hear the building creaking as the wind blew.

You were still just trying to tune it all out and distract yourself when you felt a wet spot in your bed, and realized you felt something dripping. Using your cell flashlight you looked for the source, soon spotting the wet area on the ceiling over where you slept.

Of course there had to be a leak, and of course it had to be right over where you slept. You dragged yourself out of bed, placing a bowl under the leak and dragging your stuff with you to sleep in the living room.

You tried making yourself comfortable on the couch, but you knew this was a couch for sitting, not laying down. You had a long night ahead of you, not to mention the thunder and lightning outside that made you jump every time there was a loud unexpected boom. You were still trying to find some decently comfortable way to sleep when you heard Baekhyun’s door open.

“What are you doing?” You heard him ask, peeking up from where you had buried yourself in your blanket.

“There’s a leak in my room, my bed got all wet.”

You tried to stay composed as you said it but when a loud clap of thunder caught you off guard you jumped, letting out a small wince. Baekhyun gave you an odd look.

“So you’re sleeping out here? You know that couch sucks to sleep on.”

You were about to answer when another loud boom had you screaming and hiding under your blanket. You stayed under the covers, still shaking slightly until a hand moved them off of you and you looked to see your roommate gazing down at you.

“Y/n, are you scared of thunderstorms?”

You weren’t about to play along if he was planning on making fun of you right now. You were too stressed out.

“Shut up, you’re just gonna make fun of me.” You whined, covering your face with the blanket again.

You heard a long sigh and before you had time to react you were being scooped up off the couch, and Baekhyun was carrying you through the living room towards his bedroom.

“What the hell are you- put me down!” You tried to protest, but it was no use.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight, there’s enough space for both of us.”

Not giving up so quickly you kept trying to get out of his hold, and his eyes met yours, faces now only centimeters apart.

“Would you really rather be on the hard couch all night, freaking out over every little clap of thunder or do you want to be comfortable?”

He raised his eyebrows, daring you to say something back but you didn’t. You just pouted and let him take you to his room.

You knew that his king sized mattress would be big enough for both of you, but sleeping next to him still felt wrong. You were already feeling uncomfortably warm just from him picking you up and holding you like that.

He set you down on one end of his bed and climbed in next to you, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Why are you doing this?”

He turned to look at you. “Midterms are starting, you’re always stressing about your grades so you should make sure to get enough sleep.”

He said it as if that too was completely normal. Like he actually cared. He turned away again to turn off the light and you both tried to get comfortable on your respective ends of the beds.

Knowing he was just right next to you still felt very strange. However before you were able to dwell on it any longer another loud boom had you jumping and shaking in fear, pulling the blankets up over yourself. You heard Baekhyun laughing.

“Don’t make fun of me! I can’t help it.”

He was still just laughing and you were trying to ignore him and get comfortable again but another loud clap of thunder had you tensing up, letting out a scared whine.

“Yahh, are you really that scared? It’s just a little thunder.”

He sounded less amused now but you still didn’t like how he was teasing you about it.

“Yeah, I am scared. I really hate storms.” You said from beneath his blankets, voice shaky.

You were becoming more and more frustrated and the seconds ticked by, waiting for the next annoying comment from him or loud bang of thunder still coming from outside. As much as you tried to prepare yourself for it, you still got scared every single time, and the storm only seemed to be getting worse.

Baekhyun watched through the dim light of his room as you hid under the covers, gasping and shaking every time there was a loud noise or flash of light through the windows.

He frowned at how terrified you still seemed. Did you really always get this scared when it stormed? It seemed a little ridiculous but if you were actually that distraught, he wanted to somehow help. He just wasn’t sure what to do as you continued to hide, wanting nothing more at this point than for this storm to be over.

There was a bright flash right outside his window, followed almost immediately with a sharp, ear shattering boom, and you lost it completely. There were no thoughts in your mind other than how badly you needed to get away from this storm. You were so scared that you hadn’t even realized how much you’d jumped, and that Baekhyun had pulled you in, letting you hold onto him for comfort.

You hated this. This wasn’t like you. You weren’t usually some damsel in distress and it pained you that you were acting like this, but you didn’t stop yourself either. In fact when you felt Baekhyun’s arms wrapping around you, you only held onto him tighter and he was moving and you felt something wrapping around your head. It was a pillow, and Baekhyun made sure to cover both of your ears with the thick memory foam while still holding you close. He made sure you couldn’t hear and couldn’t see the storm, hoping that you would finally be able to calm down and go to sleep.

And it actually worked pretty well. The sounds were now muffled and you couldn’t see the flashes of lightning when your face was buried in his chest, surrounded by the pillow and blanket. He had you all curled up, close and protected and after a couple minutes, you finally felt yourself relaxing.

Baekhyun didn’t move, keeping you snugly in his arms until the storm passed. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more thunder and only the soft sound of the rain remained, he let go of you and the pillow.

“The worst of it’s over, try to get some sleep.” He whispered before turning, laying down with his back to you as he dozed off. You too were exhausted, and the comforting smell of him on his sheets had you slowly drifting off. His bed felt so warm and cozy.

Part 2

#baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #exo fanfic #exo fic #exo #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #baekhyun au

597 notes · View notes

pedgito · 1 year

Note

Lol not me actually requesting something from someone yikes. But you asked for more Tom requests - what about you and best friend!Tom go on a night out with all your work mates after a long week and everyone keeps treating you like a couple so you play it up and flirt heavily with him but he gets flustered? If you could find a way to take this in a smutty direction I’d love you forever ♥️

author's note: this got a little wordy, i'm sorry, but i couldn't help myself.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), drinking/smoking, flirting, established friendships, oral (f recieving), tom being extra boyfriend-ish

word count: 5.6k

“A drink.” Tom promised, “Only one—come out with us.”

You were always reluctant to venture anywhere outside of work with coworkers. Tom was the only exception, but even that was few and far between.

And Tom’s friends - by association, your coworkers - weren’t the easiest to be around. They were friendly to a degree, but they were men. They get too rowdy and loud and say horrible things about women, whether you were around or not.

“Just boys being boys.” Your neighbor had told you, a sweet old lady who kept to herself, catching the boys huddled outside of Tom’s caravan on a sticky, hot Friday night.

You never understood it and Tom seemed to always take the brunt of whatever jokes they were telling, but he laughed anyway. He never took himself too seriously, not since Ruth.

He doesn't talk about her much anymore, only in passing when he brings up old memories, but he’s happier now—lighter and more carefree in the way he carries himself.

He’s a homebody like you, but he’s taking that leap and going on a wild night out, but not without dragging you along with him.

“Only one?” You've got an inkling that isn’t the truth, and Tom sinks a little, shoulders slumping over his soft, gray cotton shirt. “It’s never only one, Tom.”

“You know I don’t like ‘em,” You argued, scrunching your nose in disgust—it makes Tom chuckle every time, “they always got something to say, they’re always being mean toward you.”

Tom shrugs carelessly, “It’s just fuckin’ around. It doesn’t bother me.”

Except when it does. Except when it’s almost always cheap shot jokes aimed at his relationship with Ruth and how disastrous it’s ending was—how stupidly oblivious Tom had been to Ruth’s other interests.

Tom loved her. He couldn’t help it.

And growing up with Tom, you understood it. He loved and he loved hard, he protected the ones he cared about, he was always there, even when people weren’t there for him.

Maybe that was his downfall. But he’s standing here, pride on the line, begging you to go out for drinks despite knowing how much you hate drinking.

You sigh, using your pointer finger to scratch at the middle of your brow, along the bridge of your nose.

“I will break a fuckin’ nose if one of them even so much as makes a comment in my direction,” You warn, “or yours.”

Tom snickers softly, pulling you into a tight, warm hug outside of the small work shack, smelling like the sweet cereal he had eaten that morning, both of you still barely awake enough to be ready for the day.

“They mean well,” Tom defends weakly, not believing much in himself either as he says it, but you both ignore it, “either way, ya’ promised.”

“Did I?” You ask playfully, crossing your arms over your chest as you shrugged him away, “I must be losin’ my memory because I don’t remember that.”

“Not really,” Tom quickly admits, howling out a laugh as you shove him, “hey—we’re mates, that’s gotta count for something.”

“And what about them?” You ask, wondering how you were that much different.

Tom couldn’t put it into words, not now.

Things had changed the moment Ruth fled, the moment you started slipping into his daily routine. There was always a cup of warm tea sitting on his workspace every morning with your name on it.

“Gotcha a cuppa.” He’d mumble around the rim of his own cup.

Meanwhile you’re shoving a freshly packaged duo of sandwiches at his chest, his smile growing wide. One was never enough and you almost always stole half of the second—Tom never cared, the gesture was more than anything anyone had ever done for him.

He mentioned Ruth’s horrid attempt at pasta once and you nearly balked at the admission, hiding your laugh behind your hand. He’s never had your cooking, but Tom swears nothing can be worse than that.

“S’different.” Tom replies, a piss poor answer.

“Why? Because I’ve got tits?”

Tom hesitates for a brief moment, mouth opened up and posed for a witty remark. It’s drowned out by your hand slapping his bicep and a weary laugh from him as he speaks.

“Fucking hell, you said it! Not me.”

“Is it true?” You ask despite his pain, his fingers squeezing at the sore spot on his arm.

Tom would never see it that way. He didn’t care one way or the other. But, you two melded together easily; quick banter, easy but sharp jokes that neither of you took seriously. Things were genuine, unforced, and you were the only person he actually made an effort to see outside of work—everything else was just coincidence or coercion on the part of Tom’s other friends.

“No, no,” Tom says forcefully, seeming offended that you would even ask, “what—you think I’m like them too?”

Another shrug that Tom can’t decipher, your hand reaching for the doorknob, “Just checking—see you tonight.”

Tom snorts out a soft hmph, “Go easy on ‘em, yeah?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

You’ve managed your way through two rounds of shots, taking the first one in stride before sipping gingerly at the second and sneaking it Tom’s way, letting him down the rest.

He’s got a hand on the small of your back, a comforting gesture but possessive nonetheless. It’s more of a, stay near me and don’t stray for your own good, type gesture—rather than a, you’re mine. Regardless, you lean into the touch and shove the third round of shots his way.

“Nice to see Tommy finally bring you out with him,” Jason, a friend of Tom’s you’ve only spoken to a few times, pipes up a few spots down the bar slab, “least he doesn’t talk about Ruth anymore”.

“Hey,” Tom replies in warning, throwing the shot back, “fuck off, man.”

Another one of his friends speaks up, the one that’s always a bit too rowdy, less filtered, and terrible at social cues.

“He’s right, mate—she’s a looker, too.”

The counter creaks in the silence that falls over, Tom’s touch tightening in the fabric of your wool knit sweater, a silent plea that begs you to back down.

He glanced around briefly, all eyes staring back at him.

“What—What did I say?”

“Thanks.” You reply, cutting through the awkward silence.

Tom visibly relaxed, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sways a little, his hand reaching out to rest on the barstool to steady himself.

“Alright, mate?” Jason asks, “Thought you had a little more in you than that—“ his eyes flick up toward you, teeth glinting behind a smirk, “seems like you’ve got a night ahead of you.”

The realization dawns on you, the closeness you two held—and with the thick skulls and empty heads of most of those men, they had no idea where your relationship with Tom landed, just that you two were close now and that had to mean you two were shagging, or at least thinking about it.

Tom goes red in the face, ears blossoming pink. It was partly the alcohol, but his hand drifting away from you is a small inclination that he sees the line being crossed—and maybe you were feeling a little bold tonight, but you lean further into him.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” You quirk your head at Tom slightly, his eyes bulging a little, “right, Tommy?”

It makes him squirm, the nickname sounding foreign on your tongue. He liked the way you said his name. Tom. It was light, but strong—you only ever said it when you were really trying to prove a point or get his attention, but it drove him mad in the best way.

He doesn’t know when the feelings developed or how they’ve gotten so intense, but standing in front of you now, watching you openly agree with the notion that you two might be going home together, even if it’s just a ruse to fuck with his friends, has his insides twisting in knots.

Tom laughs nervously, agreeing without thinking.

“Told you,” You hear a whisper, a jab of an elbow in the side of one of his other friends, briefly glancing up at Tom, “about time you finally move on from that odd one—Ruth, yeah? Girl always gave me a vibe, ya know?”

The bitter memories still linger, always reappearing at the sound of her name and you can see it, watching as he visibly recoils in on himself.

There’s no telling how often this happens, how frequently they leave Tom at the end of the line, constantly directing their bad, poorly timed jokes at him.

You roll your eyes, remembering Tom’s plea to remain civil, instead directing your attention toward him, hoping that whatever bold course of action you decided to take would deter his friends away.

“Dunno what she was thinking, he’s a keeper,” You interrupt, shoving Tom gently with your shoulder, “sweet, a good fuckin’ laugh—“

“Least one of us is getting laid, yeah?”

A weird course of questions to take, but again—boys will be boys.

“It’s a wonder.” You joke coarsely, but Tom notices the hint of your deadpan delivery, biting on his bottom lip to stifle the laugh threatening to escape.

Tom looks flushed still, finger tracing the outline of his shot glass as a line of Guinessen hits the bar top—it’s his weakness, always getting him absolutely hammered. You’ve seen it once, cleaned it off his couch after a wild night out and him showing up at your doorstep in tears. The night was blurry now, but there were a lot of secrets spilled, learning more about Tom than you’d ever planned, and in turn, a few things about yourself.

It’s part of the reason you don’t mind flirting with Tom. He’s always been there, a guy that was easily everything you could see yourself starting your life with.

After a while, you spill into a booth. It’s a large round table with just enough room for everyone, except you. Tom nearly offers his own seat up, but you’re moving before he can decide, squeezing yourself onto his lap.

He visibly stiffens, his hand scolding hot against your skin from where it’s resting in the curve of your hip.

You catch the long, offstandish looks from across the table—a couple guys you didn’t know at all, snickering at Tom’s discomfort (or nervousness, it seemed) and making it even worse on him.

He doesn’t blame you—you were trying to make things less awkward, ease the burden, but now he has no clue how to respond. Touch you more? Touch you less? Does he go bold and make a move or should he just excuse himself and say it’s been a long day and head home.

And if you weren’t annoyed before, you were surely annoyed now and feeling a bit too protective over Tom as you look over, his face in perfect eyeline with your own.

“Too much?” He mouths, his legs parting slightly as you straddle his thigh, the movement nudging you forward and against the table, ass sliding back an inch.

Neither of you speak on it, but you can feel it. He tenses even more, but it seems less nervous.

You shake your head, glancing up at the two obnoxious men briefly before returning to him, “Not enough.” You whisper, lips grazing against his temple at the action, leaning back to look at him for a moment.

He almost panics, but then you’re leaning in and all Tom can do is adapt. He brought this on himself, he remembers. He asked you out tonight, practically begged, and now he was reaping the consequences.

Not that this could be considered a punishment, far from it, actually.

“Just act like you enjoy it, for their sake.” You tell him softly, a word of warning before your lips are colliding with his own.

They’re soft, not at all a surprise. Your thumb rubs at the joint of his jaw, the beginnings of stubble growing there, a few days past his most recent shave and he makes a noise, something that gets caught in his throat but you feel it, the sound vibrating against the fingers pressed on the side of neck. He opens his mouth briefly (probably to interrupt) and you jump on the chance, sliding your tongue past his lips to graze against his own, and he sighs against you, open-mouthed and husky.

And just when you feel satisfied enough to pull away, Tom pulls you back in, eliciting a few wolf whistles from his friends.

“Seems like someone’s leaving early tonight.”

Tom pulls away with a deep chuckle, avoiding whatever expression was on your face when he looks away—luckily you’re good at masking the surprise of him going in for seconds, and it’s unspoken, but the energy thrumming between you both was high.

It was better excuse than any, eyebrows raising in question at Tom, silently praying and hoping he would put your misery to end and agree to leaving.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tom nods slowly, turning back to you sheepishly—there’s something behind his eyes, those wide, beautiful eyes; but he forces it back, turning back to his friends, “you assholes drink enough for me, yeah?”

“Not a problem, mate.”

The keys jingle around Tom’s finger as the heavy door closes behind you, gravel shifting under your feet.

“So,” Tom drags out, chewing at the inside of his cheek, “what was all that about?”

You turn back to him slightly, seeing him stuck in place, leaning against the brick wall now, still and unmoving.

“You like being shit on like that?” You ask, deadpan and serious.

“Oh, what are you on about?” Tom asks, a groan on the horizon as he tips his head back, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket—he’s been nursing it for a few weeks, only smoking when he’s feeling really stressed, but now it seemed as a means to avoid the conversation.

You were having none of it.

“It’s always like this,” You argue, yanking the small pack from his grip and tossing it in the trash, “don’t start with that—you only ever smoke around them, you only act a certain way around them—what is it, Tom? What are you trying to prove?”

“Nothin’—why do you care even?” Tom asks, hands splayed out in midair, still confused at your sudden outburst. “Know what, I’ll do you one better—the hell was that in there? Flirting with me, kissing me—“

“And you needed to have your hands on me all night?” You counter, a vicious response that has Tom recoiling in on himself, “What exactly are you telling those fuckers when I’m not around?”

“You think I talk to them like that?” Tom asks, offended by the accusation.

“Nice to see you finally bringing her out with you,” You mock in a low voice, lazily stepping toward Tom, arms folded over your chest in defense, a way to comfort yourself, “finally—really?”

“S’not my doing!” Tom snaps, forehead creasing in frustration as he pushes from the wall, meeting you halfway in your walk toward him, “They’re always talkin’ about how you look at me, touching me all the time—they just assumed.”

“Assumed what, Tom?” You ask carefully, voice soft but dangerous—a double-edged sword that worries Tom.

You’re lucky the parking lot is barren of people, everyone packed inside the bar. Tom sighs, a forceful breath through his nose.

“That why you ask me out tonight?” You question, “Tryin’ to paint me as yours, are you?”

“Fuck,” Tom groans in exasperation and the expletive shouldn’t invade your mind that easily, the audible frustration in his voice as he continues, “s’just—we’re close, ya know. They have questions, I never tell them anything. I’d never—I wouldn’t do that.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. Tom seems to have sobered a little at that, despite the alcohol on his breath.

“What? Don’t take me for a good shag, no?” You tease, the words hitting Tom fast and hard and he’s interrupting just as quick.

“You lost your fuckin’ mind?” Tom asks, your silence a louder response than ever, “I meant I’d never disrespect you like that.”

You shake your head slightly, stubbornly. Tom can’t take it anymore, full to the brim with annoyance at how dense you’re being.

He can’t help how easily you drive him mad, to the point of rash decisions and thoughts and he’s hauling forward before he can think, gripping your forearm to pull you around the back wall of the bar, a dark alley hidden away from everything else and private, quiet.

“Fuck is your problem?” You ask, yanking your arm away.

“You.” Tom answers boldly, chest heaving heavily, struggling to take the deep breaths he knows he should.

“I was only trying to ease the teasing, Tom.” You reassure him, “They were laughing and I didn’t think—I kissed you to shut them up and I’m sorry but—“

“But?” Tom reiterates, eyebrows raising inquisitively.

“You didn’t need to kiss me back.”

“And I did.”

You nod slowly, taking a long, calming breath despite your heart hammering in your chest. It was anger and everything that came with it, but it was also fear, excitement, the type of things that cloud your thinking and lead you toward making bad choices.

Was this a bad choice?

Tom’s eerily quiet, eyes directed toward the ground and hand rubbing the tense muscle of his neck.

You sigh quietly, speaking first.

“Let’s go.” You tell him, eyes pleading when he looks up at you. “Please?”

Tom relents, but the drive back is anything but easy; because everything with Tom was easy and now—you couldn’t even look at him.

He pulls into his driveway before yours, forcing you to finally speak up.

“Tom, this isn’t mine.” You remind him, wondering if he was as hammered as his friends were teasing him about.

“No shit,” His voice cracks when he talks, “Come on.”

When you’re finally inside, no arguments to be had, Tom’s reaching into the fridge and pulling out a pair of beer bottles, cracking open the lids against his chipped countertop. He forces the beer into your hand, motion toward the small dining table.

“I’m not in the mood for drinking, Tom.” You reply, taking the seat he demands, eyes following your movements.

“You drive me mad.” Tom admits, his teeth seething around the word, taking a long sip that spills down his lips briefly, the bottle ringing as it hits the table, his fingers tracing the perspiration as the silence grows, your heart swelling in your chest.

Tom had a habit of leaving you speechless—usually it was crass jokes and ridiculous things you couldn’t find the nerve to respond to, but this was different.

“I promise ‘em weeks ago that I would go out,” Tom admits, “and it was stupid of me to think you wanted to hang out with them—I should’ve blown them off, grown a fuckin’ pair and invited you out.”

“Tom—“ You interrupt softly.

“It’s not that I’m scared,” Tom continues, “just don’t wanna ruin what we have—but there’s so much—I can’t help thinkin’ about you and not in the way makes you an absolute nuisance sometimes—“

“Oh, fuck you.” You retort, a giggle settling in your chest.

“I dunno if you even look at me that way,” Tom shrugs, feeling ridiculous, “but I can’t lie to you anymore.”

“Tom,” You start again, his name on your tongue making his cock twitch in his pants, “I make you fuckin’ lunch everyday, I suffer going out with your obnoxious friends, I let you hang all over me and you think I don’t look at you that way—“

“Should’ve done things like this,” Tom laughs to himself, self-deprecating and sipping at the lingering few ounces left in the bottle, “dunno why I forced you out tonight.”

“You didn’t force me,” You shrug, “—didn’t force me to kiss you either.”

Tom laughs slightly, his body shaking with the movement.

“Where do we go from here?” Tom asks, feeling lost in this area anymore, after Ruth.

“Tom,” You say, voice lingering and teasing as you glare at him, head cocked to the side, “you brought me back here, didn’t you?”

He nods, unsure of where you were going. It’s sweet, endearing in the idea that he’s completely lost.

You make the first move, resting the half empty bottle on the countertop behind him before you’re shifting over his lap, the contact of your bare thighs against his palms bringing him back to the surface, half empty beer bottle clanging to the floor behind you—

“Fuck, the mess—“ You glance back toward the noise but Tom’s quickly distracting you, a hand on the side of your face to guide you back to him.

“Yeah,” He nods, “fuck it.”

You nod silently in agreement, smiling as he leans forward to press his lips against yours. It’s hesitant, new, different from the kiss in the bar—that was performative, a means to an end.

This kiss was everything else. A first for you both—it was the first time Tom had kissed anyone outside of Ruth and for you, it was strange, kissing your best friend. But, it felt good. It felt right.

Tom sighs into your mouth, lips parting in a motion that allows his tongue to slip out, testing the waters as he grazes your top lip, his brow furrowing in concentration as your thighs tighten against his hips, rising on your knees as his hands traverse and explore lower, his fingers grazing the skin under your skirt, the loose fabric bunching around your hips, feeling futile and useless.

It’s not long before there’s less coordination and more of your bodies rubbing against each other in a desperate need for relief, kisses having melded into breathing wantonly into each other’s mouths and Tom is the first to speak, breaking the comfort silence that had fallen over.

“S’not fair,” He whines softly, his hands appearing at your neck, fingers disappear into the root of your hair as he angles your chin up, giving him perfect access to exactly where he wanted to be, his lips latching onto the skin and your pulse stuttering under the touch, “god, it’s not fair.”

You pull back curiously, fingertips grazing the red tips of his ears, a sated smile on his. “What are you on about?”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t rush into things again,” Tom admits, his voice low, like he’s telling a secret he shouldn’t, “I’ve only ever been with her, haven’t been with anyone since—don’t wanna disappoint you.”

“That’s too bad,” You pout slightly, feeling a buzz flow through you, and given that you don’t drink often, it seems like that may be the culprit, “really wanted to get off tonight, but—“

“No, no—fuck, s’just, I don’t have anything here.” Tom explains, “It’s not on my mind lately, plus it’s usually just me—“

“Oh?” You perk up, voice airy as lean into, lips grazing his own briefly. He huffs a short laugh into your mouth.

“Yeah, sorry—“

“Don’t be,” You swiftly assure him, “M’not judging. It’s kind of…sweet, actually.”

“That I’m jackin’ off every night?” Tom asks, pulling back with an ire of confusion on his face. “Love, I think you’ve had too much to drink—“

“That you’re not fucking a different girl every other night—not that there’s anything wrong with it. But, look at James,” Tom nods knowingly, “he up and skipped town because he knocked that one girl up, the last thing on my mind is kids or relationship, but I like you, Tom.”

“I’d hope so,” He chuckles, “since you’re already pressed up against my cock and all—can’t even tell you the last time I thought about another girl that wasn’t you.”

You settle slightly, cunt pressed tightly against the zipper of his jeans, the hard and heavy line of his cock pressing against you. Tom hisses at the contact.

“So, you’re touching yourself to me?”

“S’that bad?” He asks, hoping it won’t send you running in the other direction.

You shake your head, adding a small tilt of your hips to drive him deeper into insanity, his hands latching onto your hips in an instant.

“Wanna tell me what you’re thinkin’ about?”

“Right now?” Tom asks, answering before you can respond, “You. This—how I’m probably gonna wake up and it’s just some fucked up dream I’m havin, my mind teasing me.”

You laugh at his rambling, pulling him back into focus with a cant of your hips, hands slipping under the hem of his shirt and pressing against bare skin, the soft outline of his toned chest. He’s proper fit, not defined, but he’s solid and sturdy and has enough strength to lift the heavy piles of supplies at work.

“I meant when you touch yourself, Tom.”

“Oh, uh—mostly your tits, I guess.” Tom admits, “You never button your tops when we work, can’t help it. And uh, your mouth.”

You nod in response, lending your lips to press against the side of his jaw, mouth a wet, sloppy trail along the skin.

“Yeah—yeah, like that, but—“ Tom sighs shakily, his fingers digging into the soft, suppleness of your ass, thumbs pressing against your hip bones and rubbing you slowly against his groin, “mostly on my cock, too.”

“Is that what you want?” You ask softly, “My mouth around your cock?”

Tom laughs nervously, “Yeah—I just—I got something else in mind.”

“Yeah?” You question, the tone in his voice making you curious, body straightening as you look at him.

“Yeah,” He confirms, “Table.”

It’s a one word response. Not a question or a statement. A demand. And normally you’d throw a hundred questions his way, but you can’t be bothered, quickly lifting yourself up a few inches to sit atop the table, sturdier than you expected.

“You trust me, yeah?” Tom asks, more reassuring himself than you, but he needed to hear it.

“With everything.” You answer without hesitation, watching as he sank to his knees, hands wrapping around your upper thighs to pull your ass flush with the edge of the table. “Why?”

“Just checking.” He shrugs, lopsided smirk painting his face.

That was the Tom you knew, the one you saw everyday. The one that cracked jokes and playfully shoved you out of his way when he was walking down the hall toward the arcade, the one who, despite his obnoxious tendencies, would kneel to tie your laces back up when they came undone.

Except now he was kneeling for different reasons, pupils blown wide as he yanked at your underwear, slipping them over the tattered shoes still stuck to your feet, knowing that all of this was spur of the moment and rushed. You were both running on pure adrenaline and booze, but there were worse ways to spend your night.

“You ever—“ Tom lingers around the words, not saying but implying.

You shrug, noncommittal.

“Only a few times. Never came, though.”

It always sucked. Tom gets the idea, smiling slightly as he leans, teeth latching into the flowy material of your skirt and dragging it up, his lips dragging along the soft skin of your stomach as his nose nudges the sweater up too.

You were braless underneath, unbeknownst to him. He could figure it out himself, but at the moment, he was much too eager to delve in and consume you.

He latches onto you with no warning, lips suckling at your clit for a brief moment, an intense sensation that has you keening off the table, fingers disappearing into his hair and holding on tight, his short cropped curls giving little to keep you grounded.

He moans still, trailing down to dip his tongue inside of you, a feeling that is indescribable to you now, lost in the feeling.

It’s ridiculous. No one - not a single fucking soul - should be this good, this easily tuned in to your body, but Tom knows. He knew everything and nothing in the same note and it drives you mad. He knew you—your deepest insecurities, your darkest secrets, the weird little quirks you had when you thought no one was watching. But he also knew you and everything that made you tick; the moans and whimpers fell like a flood, his tongue working tirelessly against your cunt, all soaking and wet as it drenched his mouth, his chin, the ludicrous sound enough to make anyone embarrassed. Your head falls back, hands moving away from his hair to grip the table for purchase and he’s tapping at your thighs for attention, a small movement of his finger.

And he’s staring—full on grinning behind what part of your cunt was covering his face, skirt having fallen slightly and bunched into his hand to keep it away.

He’s daring you to look at him, watch him bring you to the edge and let him watch as you fall apart.

You let him—but it’s a steep reminder of how easily you’d let him do anything; just a look and you were done for. His eyes said a lot, even in the moments when you were silent, staring each other down from across the room.

You clench around the tongue that’s buried inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit in a beautiful accident, forcing a surprised gasp from your chest as you lean forward, nearly sitting upright.

“Oh, right there,” You acknowledge, voice light and airy, “fuck, right there, Tom.”

He moved up a fraction, tongue flicking over your clit wildly, stopping briefly with a question posed on his lips, all shiny and wet with you.

“Your tits—can I see them?”

He feels silly, like he’s back in school and asking a girl for the first time and you laugh, which makes it even more nerve wracking.

“Thought you said it wasn’t because of the tits,” You tease, “that I’m just like all your other mates.”

“You know you’re not,” He tells you, “you’ve never—you’re so much more, you know that.”

You smile slightly, nose scrunching up at the action as you stare at him accusingly, “Alright then, go on.”

He looks surprised almost that you’re asking him, leaning forward an inch more until his hands can sift under your sweater, pulling the fabric over your head in one fluid movement.

He’s stricken, eyes wide and puppy dogged as he licks at his bottom lip, rising slightly as he nods toward your chest, “You were like that all night?”

You nod shyly, feeling bashful as his hands graze your sides, thumbs rubbing along the underside of your breasts. He’s drinking you in, distracted enough that he doesn’t feel your hand graze the front of his jeans until you have them half undone, fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers.

“How long you been like this?” You ask, hands grazing over the small wet patch in the material, fingers cupping the hard line of his cock, shoving his jeans down an inch further. “Since we got here, since we left that bar—“

Your words drift and lull, dragging out as he felt ashamed to admit it.

“Wasn’t that bad until you sat on my lap,” Tom admits, “and then you fuckin’ kissed me—“

“Yeah?” You reply, pulling him forward gently by the front of his shirt, pressing your lips against his in a messy exchange, tasting you on him. He moans brokenly, the shift pulling you closer and pressing your bare cunt against his dick, ruining the material further, “You mean like that?”

Tom nods desperately, wanting nothing more to fuck you against every square foot of his trailer.

“S’getting late, Tommy.” You say, a tad antagonizing as you pull away, staring at him sternly, “Should I leave?”

“Fuck, sorry. Sorry.” He apologizes, leaning down swiftly to capture your pebbled nipple between his teeth, mouthing brief at the valley of your breasts in a way that has you giggling out loud before he’s sinking back down and burying his face into your cunt, relentless as his pace is furious from the jump.

His fingers join gradually, thick digit sinking into your pussy and clenching, the movements of his tongue deliberate of your clit as he finds that sweet spot, curling his finger inside you until you’re gasping out loud, both hands shifting to cradle his head.

He encourages it, a small noise of acknowledgement as he moans against you, silently begging you to take what you need, riding out the high of your orgasm against his tongue as you come.

“Hu–oh, fuck.” You sigh, his mouth overstimulating as he laps you up, “Tom–fuck, Tom, too much.”

Tom laughs, finally releasing you to nestle between your legs, smoothing your skirt down as he hooks you knees around his hips, “Come ‘ere,” Tom whispers, tipping your chin up until you lean forward, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss.

“Tom–Tom, hey,” You tell him softly, trying to garner his attention, hands reaching for his opened jeans, “let me–”

“Mmm, yeah–’s okay.” Tom assures you, looking sheepish as he glances down toward your fingers trailing against the thick band of his boxers, “I uh, already came.”

“Oh,” Your voice is small, a smile creeping on your face, “O–Okay.”

“Next time.” He assures you, nodding slightly as your grin grows wider.

“Next time?” You reiterate, tone playful and inquisitive.

“Uh, unless I’m reading this wrong,” Tom recoils, “I mean, you’re half naked on the table I fuckin’ eat on, s’not like I planned to kick you after either.”

“We’re really not mates anymore, are we?” You ask, watching as he cracks a laugh, shaking his head.

“Don’t think we ever were.”

And considering your current situation, you don’t think things could ever go back to how they used to be, but you didn’t want them to.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#tom grant x you #tom grant x y/n #tom grant x reader #tom grant smut #tom grant make up #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #tom grant #joseph quinn #my writing

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