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dreamescapeswriting · 28 days

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Reunions Embrace ~ HYJ

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

GENRE: idol!AU, established relationships, SMUT MINORS DNI, blow job, unprotected sex, reader taking care of the prince as deserved,

PAIRING: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The moment Hyunjin stepped into the house, a sense of tranquillity washed over him, filling every corner of his being with a comforting embrace. The home had been completely transformed since he left as if his absence had somehow imbued it with an even greater sense of warmth and homeliness.

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of evening light filtering through the blinds, it felt like peace compared to the bus he'd been cramped on for months. The coffee table had a vase of fresh cut flowers placed in them, so fresh he could smell them from the doorway and his body began to relax completely but the one thing putting him into a complete state of relaxation was the smell of cooking. Not just any cooking but Hyunjin's favourite meal that was greeting him, instantly warming his heart as he went toward the kitchen in the hunt for you.

In the kitchen, he found you standing by the stove, your sleeves rolled up as you tended to a pot simmering on the stove. The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of his favourite meal, a comforting blend of spices and flavours that instantly transported him back to simpler times.

"Hey, you're home!" You exclaimed, rushing over toward him and instantly wrapping your arms around him, his arms snaking around your waist as his head rested on the top of your head. This was what peace was, this was everything he ever wanted in life. To come home to you and this hug. He held you close, feeling the warmth of your embrace chase away the lingering chill of his travels.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered, his voice filled with longing and affection. It had been far too long since he'd gotten to hold you and he wasn't planning on letting go so easily. You smiled to yourself, letting out a happy sigh as you snuggled your head into his chest.

The two of you spoke almost every day whenever you could but it was hard when his schedule kept him so busy on tour, but you understood the risks of dating someone in his career and you accepted them. As long as he continued to come home to you, that was all you cared about.

Slowly pulling back you looked up at him with eyes that sparkled with joy and love, you were almost afraid if you looked away he would suddenly disappear.

"I've missed you too," You replied softly, your hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, it had grown so much longer since the last time you saw him and you knew it was going to be irritating him sooner or later.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude for having you in his life. Despite the distance and the challenges you faced, you were always there for him, supporting him and loving him unconditionally. No matter the rumour going around you stood by him, waiting for him to tell you his side before ever passing judgement. Always there to care for him whenever he was sick or overworked, you were always there and he couldn't have been more grateful for you.

"I can't believe you cooked my favourite meal," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You really are the best." He kissed the top of your head as you grinned up at him, your eyes shining with happiness.

"Well, I wanted to do something special for you," You said, your voice filled with warmth as you slowly went back over to the stove to make sure everything was cooking nicely. You had a whole night planned out for him and it wasn't going to end with just the meal,

"Welcome home, my love." You whispered as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder while he stood with you and you cooked. And at that moment, as you stood there together, surrounded by the aroma of his favourite meal and the love that filled the air, he knew that no matter where his travels took him, he would always find his way back to you.

After savouring every last bite of the meal you'd lovingly prepared, he felt a warmth spread through his body unlike any he had experienced before. It wasn't just the delicious flavours that filled him with contentment, but the knowledge that each bite was a tangible expression of your love and devotion. As he leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. The worries and stresses of his time away seemed to melt away with each mouthful, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude for the love of his life sitting across from him.

"Wait right here," You whispered, your voice soft and soothing, you walked over to him, pressing a kiss to his temple and smirking to yourself.

"I have something special planned for you." Without giving him a chance to respond he watched as you disappeared from the room, anticipation fluttering in his chest like a butterfly's wings.

Moments later, you returned, your arms cradling a stack of fluffy towels and a bottle of his favourite bath oil.

"Come with me," You said, your voice a gentle melody that beckoned him to follow, almost like a siren's call and he was up in a flash, following after you in silence.

Together, you ascended the stairs, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the walls. As you reached the landing, you led him into the bathroom, where the air was heavy with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus.

With tender care, you began to fill the tub with warm water, the sound of rushing water a soothing symphony that filled the room. Once the tub was filled to the brim, you poured in a generous amount of bath oil, the fragrant aroma enveloping you both in a cloud of tranquillity.

"You don't have to do all of this for me," He mumbled a little, guilt weighing on him as he thought about all of the efforts you were going through for him. He'd been away so long and yet you were still doing all of this for him and a small part of him felt as though he should be the one to do this for you.

"I want to, I missed you and want to take good care of you," You told him as you glanced over your shoulder, reading the look on his face easily and sending him a reassuring smile.

"But-"

"No buts, I want to do this and I will," You said sternly, making him chuckle a little as you stood up and turned to face him.

"Now, it's time to relax." You whispered as you kissed him softly, slowly peeling off his clothes and dropping them into the laundry basket inside the room. Continuing to strip him and kiss his naked shoulders as you did so, smiling happily as you watched him sink further into relaxation.

Hyunjin stepped into the tub, sinking into the warm embrace of the water with a contented sigh. You knelt beside him, dipping a soft sponge into the water and beginning to wash away the cares of the day with gentle strokes. As you washed him, your touch was tender and loving, each caress a silent promise of your devotion. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself fully to the sensation of her hands moving over his skin, washing away the tension and fatigue that had accumulated during his time away.

"This is nice," He whispered, his head leaning back against the tub as you continued to wash his body gently. It was the first time touching him in a long time but it wasn't sexual, it was relaxing.

"Lean forward." You whisper in his head, once he does you begin to run the sponge down his back, smiling as your boyfriend fully relaxes for you.

"Thank you," He whispered as he leaned back against the tub, his eyes finding yours and smiling in a completely relaxed state. There was no place he'd rather be right now than right here,

"Anytime baby," You giggled a little, kissing him softly as he slipped further into the water, his eyes fluttering shut as you smiled leaning back against the tub enjoying him back with you.

Hyunjin sucks in a sharp breath as he watches your soft lips wrap around his hard length, he couldn't remember how you'd gotten to the bedroom but he didn't care, he was in complete bliss. Your eyes flirt with him as you sink lower onto his shaft and back up again, his moans filling the room as his eyes flutter shut,

"F-Fuck I missed this," He mumbles, his hands clutching onto the sheets as you run your tongue up and down his length, using your hand to stroke what your mouth can't reach as your head bobs up and down, tracing the veins in his skin as you suck.

"Just like that," He moans, his gaze now on you as you looked up at him, humming around him as you continue to suck him deeper, his praises filling you with determination. You wanted this to be the perfect welcome home for him and you were going to do anything for that to happen.

"Ffuuck," He hisses, your pace quickening as you suck him and stroke him faster, pulling off him to spit on the tip before taking him back into your mouth and to the back of your throat again,

"S-Stop...S-Stop," He begs as you pull back, afraid you'd done something wrong but he brought you onto his lap, kissing you deeply and hungrily as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I want to come with you," He whispered as he lined himself up at your entrance, your hands making their way into his hair and you bit down on his lip softly.

"I need you" You whimpered, as he slowly pushed into you, your eyes squeezing shut at the stretch, it had been far too long since you'd been with one another but you needed this.

"Shit, Yn, you're so fucking tight," He groans, his head rolling back against the bed as you sank further onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his length as you breathed out a happy sigh,

"You're too big," You mumbled to him, rolling your hips slowly moving your hips in slow circles as his hands clutched onto your hips, there was no way he was going to last long, not when it had been too long since you were last together,

"Y-Yn," He stuttered out, he wanted this to be good for you too but he knew there was no chance he could make you come like this, not with how needy he was,

"This is all about you tonight," You breathed out, biting his ear softly as you slowly began to raise your hips only to let them fall again, rocking back and forth on him as he moaned your name out loudly. Your breathing went faster and shallower as you moved your hips faster on him, his hands digging into your hips as he groaned squeezing his eyes shut and trying to list off baseball players to distract him,

"Come for me baby, I missed you." You moaned out, looking down at him as he whimpered, his hips bucking wildly as he couldn't fight it anymore, the urge to come taking over him as he bucked into you, your pussy clenching around him as he thrusts harder and faster into you. Cumming suddenly as he whimpered your name out, sweat dripping down his forehead as you continued to ride him through his high.

"Maybe I should have made you bathe last," You teased, kissing his lips softly as he whimpered, unable to find words to speak at that moment.

"I'll run a fresh one and I'll join you this time," You told him, slowly getting up and smirking as you made your way to the bathroom, your boyfriend's eyes on you the whole time.

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leascorner · 26 days

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j.s. | Welcome home

Summary: After a mission, Jake gets some well deserved break at home. However the week might not turn out how he had planned.

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x childhood bff!f!reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death and near death experience, mention of break-up, probably inexact american army facts, ever most likely inexact description of Texas, mention of food, two idiots in love, happy ending

Word Count: 9.2k

A/N: I've said it before, I will say it again. The only trope that I can write/read about Jake is a childhood/best friends to lovers, don't fight me. I also see Jake as an older brother to two half-sisters his mother had with a very good man, after his father abandonned them. This is my canon.

Anyway, this is way too long and way too chaotic but I just couldn't stop writting so enjoy!

Masterlist

Y/N was literally hopping up and down with impatience - or perhaps was it the three cups of coffees she had drunk to be able to keep up with the 2-hour-long drive to the airport in the middle of the night. She was standing on the arrival floors, on her tiptoes, trying to locate the person she was picking up. The flow of travellers coming through the arrival doors was continuous, so many blond heads coming through and none of them was his.

Her childhood best friend’s flight had landed a dozen of minutes prior; 3:28 a.m. was the time she received a “be right there, see you soon” text. Ever since then, the seconds had been going past very - very - slowly and with every second passing, Y/N chest had got narrower from anticipation to the point she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It hadn’t been more than a year and a half now that they had seen each other in the flesh. Of course, there were the texts, the emails and the FaceTime calls, but it was never the same.

“Jake!”

The sea of people in front of them seemed to split in half to let them collide in one another. The said Jake let his bag fall to his feet to catch a flying Y/N, lifting her from the ground as if she weighted nothing. Her hands found the back of his neck and her head found the crook of his neck, reuniting their bodies as if they were only one mind.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sniffed her hair, intoxicating himself from her perfume.

Jake let her down reluctantly when he realized they were in the way of other people reunions. After swinging his bag over his shoulder and dragging her near a row of seats, he finally took a good look at her, dark circles under puffy red eyes and hair all other the place. He dried her tears softly and kissed the top of her head, something he was sure he hadn’t done since they were in high school and that fucker of Chad had broken up her heart - thinking of it now, it seemed like it was a lifetime away. However, he knew that in this moment there was no sadness in her tears. She was crying probably a little happiness to seeing him again, but most certainly a lot of relief to have him alive in front of her.

He took another step back to have an even greater look at her. Y/N was exactly how he last saw her one year or so ago, and exactly how she looked like even all the other times he had to leave. She did not seem to age, and he was sure that the fine smile lines she was now wearing had always been there. It brought comfort to his heart to know that whatever would happen, she would always be waiting for him. He knew it was also selfish, but he had made peace with those thoughts a long time ago. These were moments that he was collecting in his mind for when he was somewhere overseas, fighting for his life.

“My my, did you grow up a few inches?”

“Oh, shut up!” Y/N laughed and tried to nudge him in the ribs. Jake easily grabbed her right elbow to bring her closer in another embrace, so very glad to be home, even only for a little while.

Ventilation was swinging litters of hot air into the car's cabin as it was a rather chilly night for October in Texas. The full moon was lighting up all the roads in front of them, just as if it was making sure they would get home safely.

During the drive, the main discussion turned around how excited everyone would be to have him there. Y/N and her parents were the only ones to know about Jake’s surprise visit; they had only known for about three days before his flight landed that he unexpectedly got a week of leave. They would surprise his family later that day for lunch - only after they both had a rather long nap to make up for the sleepless night.

Jake had seen his family a couple more times than Y/N this past year and a half. Even if he considered Y/N to be family, this wasn’t exactly the rule of the administration. Blood family had some more privileges, like sometimes visiting for the holidays. His mother and one of his little sisters also visited him in Singapore when he was stationed there for an exercise in the Taiwan Strait; they had booked a vacation to be able to see him there. Y/N, at that time, had been unavailable - she had her own life after all.

It was what Jake found the more difficult; to keep up with her life. Most of her friends were common friends from high school. With her going to a different university and later with her different jobs, some of her friends were total strangers to him. However, they all seemed to come and go into her life, leaving more or less damage.

“I am sorry about you and Nick.”

Y/N finished getting back to the right line of the highway and removing the blinker, before glancing quickly in Jake’s direction. He was looking at her, with an expression she couldn’t quite read, but that she understood as some kind of gladness. She sighed while turning her focus back on the road.

“You can lie better than that, Jake.”

“Well, didn’t like the guy so…”

It had been a couple of months now than her longtime boyfriend Nick and she had broken up. What confused Jake the most was how this was not a topic for discussion. She hadn’t called crying; she did not seem to be angry. She just announced it to him like it was nothing and directly switched subject. He hadn’t found a way to bring it back on the table, so he asked their friends and family. They all had the same answer; she was doing fine. She seemed to have continued her life just like nothing had happened.

“Was it him-”

“It was me,” Y/N cut him off quickly abruptly, leaving Jake with an uneasy feeling. She sighed again, probably realizing how harsh her tone had been. “This wasn’t working out anyway.”

Though she could not see him, Jake nodded back acknowledging her response. He still felt like there were more to it, but he understood that now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Ever since they had known each other - and it went back to kindergarten, they hadn’t had many secrets for one another. And if they had, it was never anything major.

So, he shook off this feeling and gently grabbed her hand resting on the gearshift to squeeze it softly.

“I do am sorry, though.”

“I know.”

It was nearly six in the morning when Y/N pulled up in her parents’ driveway.

The porch light was on, welcoming them, making sure Jake knew he was expected, and it made him smile fondly. It still felt surreal somehow; after everything, he was home. Getting out of the car, he breathed the fresh air of Texas like he hadn’t breathed in years.

Y/N was already opening her trunk, getting out a duffel bag that seemed to contain some clothes for today. Jake jogged toward her before she was able to get his own khaki bag out. She rolled her eyes, smiling, when he gently slapped her hands away to take care of it.

“Mom set up a spare bed in my room,” Y/N informed him while walking to the front door. “Just like the old days.”

And nothing in the house had changed either.

The hallway was still a drive along memories with all sorts of pictures hanged upon the wall. Y/N’s parents wedding portrait. Y/N’s baby pictures. Y/N on the day of the start of her first kindergarten year - just before they met each other. A couple more of first day of school pictures - this time with him in it as well. A couple of family vacation pictures. And along with them, a couple of pictures of events he wasn’t even there to attend. Y/N’s university graduation, her parents’ thirty-year anniversary celebration party, her first promotion celebration dinner…

The kitchen was still on the right, the living room on the left and straight ahead the stairs to the bedrooms. Y/N’s bedroom still had Justin Timberlake poster hung up on the walls along with some pictures of friends and family. The teddy bear he won for her at the funfair when they were not even ten stood on her bed. Jake swore that if he opened the dresser, he would still find the shelf that was for his stuff back then.

Without many words, both of them got ready for bed. Y/N took the en-suite bathroom first and when Jake got back in his sweatpants, she was already in bed, cuddling Mister B the teddy bear. His chuckle made her look up to him with sleepy eyes and quickly look away when she realized he didn’t wear a shirt. He kissed her on her forehead before tugging her more tightly in her sheets and turning off the bedside lamp.

“Do you remember when I couldn’t sleep unless someone was holding my hand?”

Jake only hummed in answer, and even in the darkness of her room, his hand found hers instinctively. Their fingers intertwining immediately, he did just as he had promised when he was only just a kid; he never let it go.

“Son,” Y/N’s father spoke from the other side of the kitchen, “don’t worry about it.”

Jake shook his head, smiling, before proceeding with what he was already doing: loading the cup he had used to drink coffee in the dishwasher. Ever since he had been up earlier that morning, Y/N’s parents had pampered him with all their attention while also being busy preparing lunch. Every time he asked if they needed help, they would assure him he just needed to stay put in his seat.

It had always been like this, for as long as he had remembered. Whenever he had gone over when Y/N and he were still in middle school, her parents had always taken good care of him, making sure the crust of his PB&J sandwiches were cut off, putting on his favourite beddings when they were having a sleepover, drying his clothes in the air dryer when they came home soaking wet from the park. He felt loved in a different way than he did at home, where he had a hard time adjusting to his new family dynamics with his two younger step-sitters. Growing up, they continued on listening to him and caring for him. Y/N’s father was the one he went to for advice before he enrolled. Ever since, and with the little time he had with them every time he came home, it still hit him in the face how much they loved him like he was their own son.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asked once more.

This time, they did not have time to answer. Y/N appeared on the doorstep, changed out of her pyjamas, hair still wet. “The shower is all yours, Jake.”

She watched him go as if she had to make sure he remembered the way to her room. She hadn’t really realized yet that he was really here, with them, and feared that he would just disappear at any minute or that she would just wake up from whatever dream she was having. Somehow this also seemed to be all too familiar, like a play they had rehearsed a hundred time before. It broke her heart a little to know this was most likely not going to happen again before a very long time, that it could actually never happen again.

Y/N got this thought out of her head as soon as it came. She didn’t need to think about this. Not now. Not ever. She just needed to enjoy whatever time she had with him at home.

“He looks good,” her mum stated once Jake had made it to the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, he does,” Y/N spoke softly, eyes lingering to where Jake had been only a couple of seconds before, suddenly wondering if he was really as good as they thought.

When Jake got back to the kitchen the entrance clock had just struck eleven. Only sixty minutes until he would be reunited with his family. It never felt more real, but he couldn’t quite realize it. He was so used of being far away from them, totally disconnected from their realities, hearing their news after everyone else. Yet, he had always found them as he had left them, eyes watering to see him home or gone.

He joined Y/N on the vegetable preparation. Washing, peeling, cutting kept him busy while the anticipation started to build up. All while Y/N’s father asked him about what new manoeuvres he had learned. Being an aviator himself, they could talk about flying for hours to Y/N’s greatest damn; she had the biggest fear of flying - and perhaps the fact that Jake nearly crashed them while flying an old aircraft he had restored with her father when they were teenagers had something to do with it.

“These boys,” Y/N’s mother sighed playfully as Jake and Y/F/N were debating whatever solar planes were the future of aviation. Y/N smiled as she shared a knowing look with her mother, who was getting ready to lay the table in the dining room.

“Mom, hold on,” Y/N called before reaching inside the cupboard next to her, “you are missing a plate.”

“Why? Is Mark coming after all?”

Y/M/N’s face went white in only a second as she realized what she had just said. Not knowing what to do else, Y/N handed her the white plate. Looking sideways to Jake, she hoped he hadn’t heard - she didn’t want him to find out like this, when his whole family was going to be here in the next thirty minutes.

It was already too late though; Jake’s attention had of course switched to their awkward interaction. Her father was quick to step in, wiping his hands on a cloth and moving towards his wife.

“Of course he is, darling. Let me help you bring those into the dining room.”

Y/N watched them disappear before quickly turning back to the carrots she was now cutting in a Julienne, praying Jake would just drop the subject. Ever since she had learned that Jake was having a leave, she had planned their reunion to be perfect. She had purposely lied to his family, pretending to have a very big news to share with them so they all agreed to gather even if the atmosphere was not good. She had made them promise to bury the hatchet, for “her” and most absolutely for Jack. Whatever touchy topics they would have to talk about, they could do it after.

“Why wouldn’t he come?” Jake still asked and, at that moment, she knew that whatever she would tell him would never be sufficient to not draw his suspicion any further. She couldn’t lie to him even if she tried.

“Just been busing with work lately, you know how it is.”

Without letting him time to ask more questions, Y/N went for the stoves to make sure the sauce was still reducing as it should have. She could feel Jake’s eyes burning holes on her back and could only hope he would drop the subject.

“Jake, son,” Y/F/N had just gotten back from the dining room, “would you mind giving me a hand with the roast?”

After taking a last look at Y/N, still very focused on stirring the sauce, Jake turned to her father. It wasn’t until she didn’t feel his eyes on her that she turned to look at him. She watched as her father made him took out the turkey so he could put some more butter on it. Out of the corner of his eye his father gives him a reassuring wink signalling her he had got this.

The bell rang at the exact same moment Y/N put the last plate of hors d’oeuvres at the centre of the table. Shooting a look across the piece, she saw her father squeezing Jake’s shoulder in what seemed to comfort him. She smiled shyly, trying to hide her own nervousness. Thanks to her father, Jake had nearly forgotten about the earlier incident about Mark and the reason he wouldn’t have been able to make it. He hadn’t asked any other questions, and they hadn’t given away other secrets. All was well in the best of all words, or so she still tried to convince herself. It was all that mattered.

“Just like we said, you both stay here, and we’ll bring them for you.”

Y/N watched as her parents disappeared in the hall. She turned to Jake who she now realized he was close at her side - she knew from the way his lips were set in a tight smile that he was somehow nervous. When noises started coming from the hall, Y/N grabbed Jake’s hand without thinking. She needed him to know she was there, that she would always be there, just like they promised when they were younger. It would take much more than a thousand of miles and a few hiccups to take them apart. As if he was thinking the exact same thing, Jake squeezed her hand back.

Jake’s step-dad was the first to enter the dining room. Y/N saw his eyes go from herself to Jake right next to her side, his eyes lighting up in realization. Yet, he didn’t say anything, holding a finger to his lips to let them know he would stay silent while moving further into the room as if nothing had happened. He and Jake had never been particularly close; he was a good man, a good husband, and a good father to his daughters, but Jake’s fatherly figure had always been Y/N’s father.

Next to enter the room was Jake’s youngest step-sister, Sophia. She immediately spotted him, letting out a cry and running into his arms. He crushed his sister in one of those same hugs he gave Y/N when she picked him up from the airport. It warmed her heart to see them like that. Sophia was still very young when Jake had enrolled; she was only just a kid and had grown up with the lack of his older brother. She was looking up to him so much that Y/N had sometimes to remind her that he didn’t have only qualities. He was her hero in so many ways…

Sophia’s reaction got the rest of the family - his mother, Olivia, his other step-sister, and his step-brother, Mark - in the dining room quite quickly. There were a lot of “Jake!” shouted from across the room and loads of tears, happy smiles, and hugs.

“I can’t believe he is here.” Sophia cried again; this time she was in Y/N’s arms. “And I can’t believe you lied to us.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Y/N smiled, tugging a string of her hair behind her ears before bringing her in an even closer hug if it was possible. She wasn’t sure she had seen her this happy in her life, she realized.

Y/N was an only child with a very little family. Over the years, Jake’s family had grown to be her own as well. As children first, as they were always all together at either one’s house or the others. As teenagers when his step-sisters weren’t babies anymore and they had started to be able to play more with them. She remembered helping his mom getting both of his sisters ready for school, all of them celebrating Christmas at her parents or going dress shopping for Olivia’s first prom.

Ever since Jake had been deployed on the West Coast and later overseas, they had grown even closer. There were brunches on Sundays, just the three of them, where Sophia would file them up on her latest dating adventures. There were lunches at Olivia’s office after they had taken a midday yoga class. There were breakfasts with Sophia before her classes began. Y/N had always made sure they were alright, as if she had to do it for Jake.

So far, the lunch had turned out great.

Jake had told them all about his last position and this group of pilots he had been joining overseas. Everyone had started feeding him bits and pieces of what had occurred ever since the last time he’s been home. Olivia and Mark had managed not to fight, which was a miracle in itself, per Y/N’s opinion. Jake’s mom had finally stopped crying. And Sophia seemed to have forgotten about those hard choices she would have to make once she graduated from college at the end of the year.

At least, that was the case until Jake asked about it.

“So, any thoughts yet about what you’ll do next year?”

“No, not really.”

Y/N had already seen that look on Sophia’s face. It was the same one she made when she was hesitating between an avocado toast and pancakes at the place they were used to going to brunch; every time she had been making this face, she had ended up with ordering both. Sophia eyed her tentatively and Y/N immediately shook her head no, silently pleading her not to do whatever she was thinking.

Today was not the day. Jake had only gotten back from abroad hours ago, they would have enough time to discuss it in the next couple of days.

“I am thinking of enrolling,” Sophia stated abruptly.

Boom.

The bomb had landed.

Y/N sighed, mentally cursing Sophia for needing whatever validation from him. They all had talked about this extensively for months on now. Decide to enrol was one thing, accept that one of your relative would do the same was another. She knew how Jake was; he didn’t look like it at first sight, but his family was his everything. He had made the selfish decision that could result in them losing him forever, yet he wouldn’t accept that she’d do the same.

From the deathly silence that came after Sophia’s statement, Y/N rested the cutlery on the side of her plate, bracing herself for whatever had to come. Her attitude made Jake immediately turned to her. She had never seen the wrinkle between his eyebrows this deep before. She didn’t know if it was from dread, disappointment, or anger.

“You knew?”

Jaw tight, Y/N didn’t answer, and Jake huffed - of course, she knew. How could she not? She was here, with his own family, when he was thousands of miles away fighting for his country. She was here, only a ride away, when he couldn’t even remember the last time he had enough telephone network to FaceTime them. She was there, physically with them, when he was just a ghost, present for a few days a year before disappearing for months on hand.

Y/N tried to reach out for his left arm to try and calm the whole situation down, but he moved ever so slightly she couldn’t touch him. The fire in Jake’s green eyes was incandescent. He was angry, with Sophia, with her, with everyone. And to know he didn’t even know half of it…

“Let’s not start now,” his older step-sister stepped in to try and reason him.

“Why?” Jake retorted immediately. “Wanna updates me on what is going on with Mark as well?”

Olivia opened her mouth to answer and as she couldn’t seem to find something to say, she then closed it and lowered her head. She and Mark had officially announced a few weeks before Jake returned that they were going to take some time apart. They had been married for nearly three years and they were having a rough path. They had started couple therapy, trying to make things work. Y/N couldn’t count the hours Olivia had spent on her couch, crying and eating ice-creams.

Y/N knew exactly how she felt like. The deception of thinking she had found the love of her life only to realize it was more complex than this. The sadness of loving someone and it still not being enough for the two of them to be happy. The paralyzing fear of being alone, of never being well enough.

She needed a shoulder to cry onto and a lot of love, and not to be reminded of what a failure she thought she was.

“I am sorry,” Sophia mumbled. Y/N wasn’t sure to whom she was apologizing. Jake? Them?

“You can’t seriously be thinking about it?” Jake half-shouted, pointing her finger at her like he was accusing her of the worst betrayal.

“Don’t say anything you’d regret, son.”

Y/N’s father word seemed to put some sense into him as he leaned his back against his chair, folding his arms against his chest. The distress on Sophia’s face was now palpable and she was on the verge of crying from Jake’s quite violent reaction. Though she didn’t expect Jake to be totally supportive, Y/N had not expected him to reject the idea that much either. She had thought that he would’ve still listen to her reasons, maybe try to talk her out of it, but finally make peace with the idea. Just like they had. Just like they all had when he was in her shoes.

Olivia had regained her composure and wrapped an arm around her sister’ shoulders. The look she sent Jake probably refrained him from attacking again his little sister. Instead, he chose another target for his anger.

“How can anybody be cool with this?”

Before Jake’s mom could speak, Y/N called him out. “Why could you do it and not her, Jake, huh?” She wants to be like you so bad, don’t you see?

“That’s not the same thing.”

Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes.

It made her even bitter. For all the things he hadn’t told her when he had no reason to hide it from her. For him being hurt that they didn’t want to discuss as such important topics over the phone. She would have liked to be sorry to hide all this from him, yet his reaction had only comfort her on her choice.

“You’re being unfair.”

“Am I now?” he laughed. “Excuse me for putting my life at sake and not wishing for me sister to do the same.”

“Did anybody ask you to? If anything, we would all have loved to keep you by our side.”

“Oh, I see. So, this is all my fault, right?”

The daring look he offered her made her heart jump in her chest. Her stomach was in fire; consuming her from the inside. She was tired from the sleepless nights she had for the last few months. And sad about the outcome of this lunch. And disappointed in him. And quite frankly done with his attitude.

Sighing, she gave in and looked away, throwing her napkin on her plate at the same time. Whatever this was, it was too much for her to handle. “If you’d excuse me,” she announced as she moved her chair back. “I am not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N-” he called after her, grabbing her arm to make her stay. She gave him a pained look before abruptly pulling away from his grip.

“Welcome home, Jake.”

Jake’s face appeared once again on her phone screen.

Big bright smile, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, forehead sun-kissed by the first rays of sunshine of spring. The picture had been taken one of the few times she had fly out to California to visit him. They had such a good time that Y/N used to hold all those memories close to her heart. Now, she couldn’t even look at it.

She couldn’t count the number of texts Jake had sent nor the number of messages he had left on her voice mail. She hadn’t read nor listened to any of them and had even decided to turn off her phone at some point during the night. She needed some time alone to take a breath and to swallow the disappointment that was forming a lump in her throat.

Despite the emotional roller coaster this day had been, she hadn't fallen asleep until late in the night, turning over in the sheet nonstop while thinking of all the comebacks she could have said to his face. And like every other night for months now, when she had finally managed to get some sleep, her worst nightmare had woken her up a couple of hours later.

It only made her feel worse and she cried all the tears in her body. It was like whatever emotion she had retained in the last year had come back to her like a wrecking ball. She was angry for all sorts of reasons all linked to Jake one way or another. She was also very sad of the situation she found herself into, of Jake having spoiled their reunion, of the spectacle she had given in front of her loved ones.

So, when she turned on her phone a few hours later, eyes still puffy and red from the lack of sleep and the crying, she didn’t hesitate to turn down his call when his smiley face appeared on her phone screen. At that time, she discovered the multiple texts and missed calls of her parents and Jake’s sisters. She sent them a quick group message, letting them know she was fine and that she would catch up later. Leaving her phone on the kitchen counter, she got ready for her day.

Her phone rang four more times while she was getting ready. She was now determined to let him know to leave her alone. She was still pissed, and she needed to compose herself. This was without counting on the doorbell ringing when she was about to answer her phone.

Stopping whatever she was doing, she made the few steps from the kitchen counter to her apartment door, opening it without even thinking who she would find behind. Much to her surprise it was the only person she didn’t want to see. Jake. Standing there, phone in his hand.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed when she nearly shut the door in his face.

He stopped it before it was fully closed and after a deep sigh, Y/N let him in without even giving him a look. She closed the door behind him, passing him - still without looking at him - and went to the living room. She leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms on her chest much like he had done during lunch just the day before.

Jake stood in the middle of the room, watching around him. It was the first time he was in her new place, the one she started rented after she broke up with her long-term boyfriend. It wasn’t much, only a one-bedroom apartment with a sanitized decor - she hadn’t had the heart to make it her own. It was close to her work and not a too long drive from her parents; it was all she really needed.

Y/N studied him in silence. He must not have had the memo about the Texas weather at that time of the year as he was only wearing a beige sweater, sleeves rolled up. It wasn’t much of a surprise he had forgotten how it was; he had spent so little time home in the last ten years.

When her eyes finally got to his face, she realized he was now staring at her. She tried reading him like she could before, but what she found in his eyes, she couldn’t interpret. Perhaps something had been broken between them. Perhaps there were only so much absence someone could handle. Perhaps they had let the miles come in between them for real this time.

She couldn’t tell how long they stayed like this before he finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Long gone was the hope she had that he would apologize.

Jake had never been one to be wrong; he was probably even the most stubborn person she had ever met. Though she liked this confidence in him, she also knew it was hiding something much deeper. His trauma of being abandoned by his father when he was still a toddler. The fear of his loved ones realizing what a failure he was, despite everything he had already accomplished. The fear of never being enough.

He had assured her it wasn’t one of the reasons he had enrolled, and she knew he was lying to her just as much he was lying to himself. But she wasn’t her twenty-something-self; she wasn’t going to protect his feelings anymore. Now that they didn’t have an audience, she could lay her cards on the table.

“Do you mean, just like you didn’t tell us about the ejection seat accident that you had six months ago?”

She saw his face drop ever so slightly before he regained his composure back. She wasn’t the only one keeping things from him, yet contrary to him, the things she was keeping a secret weren’t really hers anyway.

“How would you know?”

“Javy called me that time,” she stated dryly, memories of the call she got in the middle of the night flowing to her head. She still had nightmares about it most nights. “He wanted me to know in case your brain injury worsened, and they had to call your family.”

This secret, she had never told anyone and had carried the weight of it on her own until now. She had smiled and assured everyone that all was fine for the days - sixteen in total - they didn’t hear from him; how could he, he had been literally in a 24h surveillance at the hospital. She had had Javy on the phone to report every little detail he had of Jake’s evolution. She hadn’t had sleep for weeks straight and had nearly cried when Jake had called him after a very busy and unexpected mission he took part in - another way for putting he had just got cleared from the hospital.

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Jake! You got banned from flying for six weeks. Six fucking weeks!”

“And yet, it wasn’t the first time I ended up in the hospital, nor was it the last time. You know that’s part of the job.”

Y/N snorted.

Like hell she knew. The job description went with never being in the same time zone as your loved ones, missing every single milestone in their life, putting his very own safety at risk so they could all be free and safe, and omitting all details of the national security missions to which he was taking part. She was pretty sure though there was no line in his contract about lying about his health, especially when he could have died, to his family.

For some reason, this whole situation had made his absence even worse. She realized he didn’t feel safe to let them know when things had gone bad; if this time she had known, she couldn’t even imagine all those other times Javy hadn’t been there to inform her. It had awakened a visceral (and most likely also irrational) fear in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and she still wasn’t ready to accept it.

“Why is this such a big deal when you knew what was going in here and didn’t even tell me?”

If she hadn’t been this tired, Y/N would have probably walked to him to slap him. How could he compare his near-death experience to his sisters’ decisions? How could any of it be equivalent?

“This was not my truth to tell,” she only replied blankly.

Yes, she wasn’t very proud of hiding things from Jake and lying on purpose. But she wasn’t thirteen any longer and when people confided in her - when she promised she wouldn’t tell him anything - she wasn’t going to go running to her best friend to spill all the tea.

“Will you then tell me the truth about what really happened between you and the other dickhead?”

“I already told you everything,” she answered dryly, a little bit too quickly for it not to be suspicious.

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N knew from the sound of his voice it was pure provocation. He gave her the same daring look she had just seen the day before - the same consuming flame was in his eyes - and she could see his infamous smirk dawning on his lips. She wondered why he wanted to prove just how right he was - how he was always right - so bad. It made her skin scramble how infuriating he was.

She didn’t answer right away and stared at him, arms crossed on her chest a little bit tighter to protect herself. Everything that was happening was only making her angrier towards him. He had ruined everything, and he had just decided to continue on doing so.

She had dreamt about him coming home for months and months, to have him by her side and now, she could only wish for him to go away. The anger, the pain, the animosity; it was all too much. She couldn’t keep up anymore.

“What do you want me to tell you, huh? How much of a great boyfriend and man he was, but that it still wasn’t enough? How much a horrible person I am for not being able to fall in love with a person that would devote his own life to try and make me happy?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but closed it as the words sank in. It all made sense to him suddenly. Why she seemed to be relieved it was all over. Why she didn’t call him after he broke her heart. Why, on the rare occasion he had discussed the break-up with his sisters, they had never talked badly about her ex-boyfriend. He didn’t break her heart. He never did.

She was the one breaking his.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, this time his voice much softer.

How could she? When it all started with his accident - that she wasn’t even supposed to know of. When it took her five years of a stable relationship to realize her longtime boyfriend had never have been the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. When it took her half of her adult life to understand she had been lying to herself for almost all her life and that even now, she didn’t know her truth from her lies any more.

Knowing the truth, Jake didn’t know what to say. He wanted to feel sorry, he wanted to tell her he was. But was he really? It would be lying to say he didn’t exult when he had heard of the break-up... On the day she introduced him to Nick, they he had discussed - quite vividly - about the country actions in Afghanistan - one of the campaigns he had just come home from - and from that day, Jake had just decided he wouldn’t like the man. He hadn’t been very subtle about disliking him, but in his opinion, Nick had paid him back in his own coin: monopolizing Y/N whenever Jake had her on the phone, making her choose between the two of them when he had had the opportunity to fly her oversea. He still felt nauseous to recall how Y/N had seemed to only look at him every time Nick was in the room with them.

He made a few steps in her direction, going to comfort her, but Y/N only shook her head. She wouldn’t let any of this go so easily. It wasn’t because she had confided in him, that he now knew all the truth from her part, that everything else would be forgotten. There were still a lot of unspoken truth to uncover.

“Why are you really here, Jake?”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason you got this leave, what is it?”

They stood less than a metre away, eyes in eyes. Jake never felt so vulnerable as every time she looked at him as if she could read his soul. He knew she was looking for something. Something he couldn’t give her.

Looking away, he answered, “It’s nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Y/N slipped away before he could even react. He watched as she turned back towards the front door. She opened it without a word and looked into his eyes as she stood leaned against it.

“Goodbye, Jake.”

And this time, he didn’t even try to fight.

Javy: Hey, got Hangman on the phone today. You okay?

Y/N: Did he vent at you for calling me that one time?

Javy: Almost.

Javy: He wasn’t really angry though. Just frustrated I guess.

Y/N: I bet. Wasn’t really the nice little break he must have planned.

Javy: If there is anything to learn from all this it is that truth is better spoken from the person they apply to.

Javy: You should talk to him.

Y/N: Yeah well I’ll see about that.

Jake was very nervous, and he wasn’t very nervous a lot.

In fact, he was pretty sure the last time he was that nervous was when he had picked Y/N up for their senior prom. Just like every year since starting high school, she had been his date - though Chad nearly had taken her away from him, but this dumbass had broken up with her only a couple of weeks before prom. That year, for some reason, everything felt different. High school years were coming to an end, they were both going to different universities. Everything was about to change, and it would never be the same. Jake had dreaded taking their relationship to the next level. If only he had known that despite going to different universities, Jake enrolling and basically the two of them living their life in parallel, their relationship had made it.

More or less so... It had been three days now since the lunch at her parents, two since their other discussion - if he would call this an argument, he was still unsure - and today was the first time he was seeing her since then.

After spending time with his family, he was on his way to meet with some of their childhood friends. Normally, Y/N was one of them and she had been invited. But with the recent events, he didn’t know if she would be here. He had had time to reflect on what had been said and finally had apologized to her voice mail as she wouldn’t let his calls through. He had given her plenty of time and space, sending in only a couple of good mornings and good nights texts, just like he was used to. Yet he didn’t know what to expect.

When he spotted her already sat at the table he had booked, his heart started pounding furiously. It gave him hope not everything between them had been broken.

“Hey,” Jake greeted Y/N softly when he had gotten at her level.

Y/N only nodded, barely looking at him, before continuing her discussion with their friend, Monica, like nothing had happened. Jake swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing to greet everyone around the table.

In all those diners they had had with their friends when he had been home, she would have been sat next to him, so close but merely touching. He would have had his arm resting nonchalantly on the back of her chair. He would have whispered all sorts of things in her ears, and she would have laughed open light-heartedly at every single one of his jokes.

That night, she was sat as far as possible from him and he had difficulty focusing on the group discussion, his mind going back to her every time. He probably went the whole evening looking at her not so subtly in the hope she would like to give him a look. She did not.

“You good?” Matt, sat at his side, asked him after the main course.

“Yeah,” Jake answered though the little tremor in his voice didn’t reflect confidence.

“Just give her a little time. It’s just a lot, y’know.”

Jake only nodded.

The problem was indeed just that: time. His flight back was in two days now and she was supposed to be his ride. He knew she would be able to drop him off without speaking a word, while he sat there in the agonizing silence. He was sure he was not able to do it for a couple of hours, he couldn’t imagine what it would be to not have her speak to him every again. He couldn’t get back to combat with Y/N still mad at him. He needed to fix things. He had been able to do it with his sisters; he had to do it with Y/N.

Indeed, the lunch had finished soon after Y/N’s dramatic departure. His sisters hadn’t spoken another word to him, and Y/N’s parents had tried to maintain some semblance of a conversation. Jake had taken a quick walk to clear his mind before going to his parents.

He had sat down with Olivia first and then Sophia, so they could tell him everything that had been going on. He sat there listening to what they had to say until they were done. There had been a lot of crying on their side (only a tiny little bit on his side - most likely because he had a dust in the eye, he would say). In the end, they had hugged and laughed and remembered that they loved each other and that nothing could be more important than that.

He had realized Olivia seemed much more at peace, somehow differently but also similarly to Y/N’s. She had so many plans on her side - buying a house, planning a trip to Europe, getting a puppy – as if she had just discovered she could be a unique person outside her marriage and she genuinely was happier.

The talk with Sophia had been a little bit more sensitive. The idea of her enrolling made his blood boiling, but he had remained calm – or at least tried to - and listened to her reasons. If he was afraid to see himself in her, her reasons were solely different than his. She didn’t want this only to do like him; it was more that he had paved the way for her. He had made her promise to think some more about it - at least, graduate from college before deciding anything - and he had promised to be supportive. He would have some work on himself, but he would cross that bridge when he’d get there.

They had of course talked about Y/N and how she was carrying the whole family on her shoulders. She always made sure everyone was alright, answering her phone at 3 a.m. to pick up Sophia from a frat party gone wild, welcoming Olivia in her tiny apartment - giving her the only bed to sleep on the couch, despite her protest - the time she turned things round after Mark and she had decided to take some time apart. She even made sure their mother was alright when his step-dad was away for business, bringing her homemade meals that she only had to heat up and keeping her company.

If he always knew what an amazingly caring person she was, it only proved him right. He would be forever grateful she was the first person to have talked to him on his first day of kindergarten. He would be forever grateful for the woman she was. If he was honest with himself, it all made him love her even more.

He wasn’t ready to watch her from afar - well, from much far away than his current position - but he would do it (or at least try), should she ask him to…

After what seemed to be an eternity, the evening finally came to an end.

Jake didn’t get the opportunity to speak to Y/N though he hesitated multiple times to just call her out or walk to her and demand that they had a chat. She was currently bidding goodbye to everyone in front of the restaurant, and Jake was watching her attentively to ambush her just as soon as she was finished. He didn’t care if he would be rude to anyone by not saying thank you for coming and goodbye; he needed to talk to her.

After she hugged Monica and promised to let her know when she got home safely, she reached for her car key in her bag and made her way to her car without even looking at him. Jake took his luck and followed her. He called after her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

“Can we not?”

“Why?” she turned around suddenly. “Want me to tell you anything else?”

“Y/N, please.”

She only raised an eyebrow before turning back and continuing walking. Too bad for her, Jake wasn’t one to give up this easily. He followed her lead up to her car that she started to unlock to get in. A wave of panic got through him as he could feel her slip away from his fingers and he didn’t want that. If they didn’t have this talk now, he was not sure they would have it at all.

“I only have two days left,” he said, interposing himself between the closed door and her. “Please.”

Y/N froze at only a few centimetres away from him. She seemed to think about what options she had. Unfortunately for her, there just wasn’t much as she couldn’t make Jake move even if she wanted to. So, she chose the reasonable choice. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened.

“I-” he sighed, passing a hand on his face, frustration clearly visible on his face now. “There has been an incident. We lost two men.”

Y/N’s arms immediately dropped to her side; the mask she wore on her face cracked. She could have been angry he lied to her, yet again, but this time, it was too serious. People died. The command had given them time off because of it. It only reminded her it could end at any time. She really could lose him.

“Jake,” she sighed.

“I-”

His voice broke and Y/N didn’t hesitate to go in for a hug. Out of habits, his arms found her waist and he buried his face in her hair. He breathed her perfume in, trying to ground himself and not totally lose it. She was his rock. There were no ways he would still be here if it wasn’t for her waiting for him at home.

He couldn’t lose her.

“I can only imagine the worry I cause you all,” he muttered in her hair. “I didn’t want to add anything to it.”

Y/N grabbed his face with both her hands and forced him to look at her. She wore a small frown on her eyebrows and determination in her eyes. While she was touched he wanted to spare their feelings, not knowing what was going on was even worse. She couldn’t count the number of times she had thought he was dead when an unknown number had called her phone. In order to support him the best way they could, they needed to know.

“Getting you back in one piece is our priority,” she started, voice bold as if she wanted him to engrave her words in his head. “That’s why we are keeping things to ourselves. We don’t want you to worry about us when you should be solely focused on staying alive.”

Jake half-smiled in return, which made Y/N relax a bit. Her hands fall on his shoulder as he kept her close to him, so close that there was no space between their two bodies. They had realized they wanted the exact same thing for one another: for them to be safe and sound.

“I worry about you all, all the time. I worry about you, all the time,” he confessed, his voice still low.

Jake reached out to tuck a loose string of hair behind her ear and Y/N instinctively leaned in his touch. It was like this between them, easy and pure. It always had. Sometimes - like these last past days, they were so caught up in life they seemed to forget what they had was so unique. Every time they had found their way back to each other.

“I left you alone while I am off, living my dream.”

“Don’t say it like you could have made any other choice, Jake.”

“I don’t regret it,” he answered right back. “Yet if I had to do it all over again, there are a lot of things about you that I would do a whole lot differently.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart rate slightly going up. If they often shared I-love-you’s more out of habits than anything else - though they were always genuine, Jake had never really expressed out loud how he felt about her, and from the electricity in the air - totally different from the explosive tension that had built up until now, she could feel there were more to it.

“It’s never too late, they say,” he smiled softly, his hand making it to the back of her neck.

Y/N hold her breath, searching in his eyes if he was being serious and if he was really wanting to finish the conversation they had started the night of their senior prom. If he wanted to do it right here, right now in a parking lot. It was a conversation that could have totally changed their life if they had it. A conversation for which they every so often imagined what they would have said if fear hadn’t stopped them.

If there were much younger back then, nothing now had changed at all.

“I’ve always been yours,” Y/N whispered. It would be lying if relief hadn’t wash over Jake. Of course he had known - he had always known - yet, hearing it was another thing.

“I know.”

Y/N’s bright eyes saw his eyes dove down to her lips, only a dozen of centimetres away she realized now, then back to her eyes. Her cheeks were burning up from the anticipation of what was to come. Yet, lost in each other’s eyes, none of them moved.

At that moment, the world could have stopped that they wouldn’t have noticed. Nothing else but them mattered.

“Well, kiss me then.”

318 notes · View notes

fioiswriting · 5 months

Text

Reunion | Sequel

[Part 1]

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, anxiety, Reader has a child, grief, fluff, pregnancy, not proofread.

Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

Words count : 9150

Author's note : Hello everyone!! Sorry for the wait, I've been very busy, but here's part two of Reunion (or at least the first part two, let's call it part 2.1 hehe). Thank you again for all you kind comments and the love you've given my fanfic omg!! Spoiler alert: this is the happy alternate ending! But I've got another bittersweet alternative ending planned 😈 If you think the first part was good enough on its own and the sequel may break the vibe, don't force yourself to read!! But if you need a happy ending, here it is <3 The plot still doesn't make any sense, but hey, we're here to have fun so enjoy ❤️

English is still not my first (or second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes <3

When you wake up, the first thing you feel is the reassuring embrace of his arms around you. You don't want to move, not even when the sunlight tickles your face through the opening between the wooden shutters, trying to make the moment last endlessly. But the growing anxiety in your stomach chases away the illusion of your fleeting happiness.

You close your eyes a little tighter. Perhaps if you try again, perhaps if you try harder, the world around you can fade away.

Perhaps you can wake up again, in a different reality.

But it's inevitable. You know that now you're awake, it's only a matter of time before the two of you have to say goodbye forever. Your breathing becomes heavier, and you have to fight the tingling sensation at the corners of your eyes.

Why have the gods decided to be so cruel to you? They grant you one last taste of his skin on your lips before taking it from you, again.

Haven't you given enough?

Could they not show you mercy?

You who had forgotten him, you who had begun to turn a new page, to seek comfort in the arms of the cold, far away from the fire and the ashes, why did you have to touch the poison that would once again stain your soul?

Behind you, Aemond buries his long nose in your hair. His hand absently caresses the skin of your thigh, just where the edge of the linen tunic you put on sometime during the night when you were cold ends. The fabric is pulled up, revealing the outline of your bottom, and you can already feel your uncle hardening between his thighs, but you don't move.

If you move, you'll make everything more real. Tangible.

You'll speed up the process of losing him, of him slipping through your fingers.

How can you let him go, now that your heart is full again, now that you feel complete in a way you haven't felt for over three years?

How can you let him go, now that your body has retrieve the extension of itself in the arms of the man who was the cause of your torment, your moments of joy, your pain and, paradoxically, your happiness?

"I know you're awake."

You hold your breath and Aemond inhales into your hair. His hand moves down the inside of your thigh, along the hollow that joins it to your groin. He doesn't venture any further.

His thumb rests there and brushes your skin, trying to arouse the desire in you with gentleness.

Subtly.

He doesn't want to hurry, he doesn't want to rush you.

Not when he's been harbouring the impossible fantasy of waking up with you in his arms since the day he nearly died.

He presses harder against you, as if he doesn't want to let you go, as if he wants to be one with you again, and you feel him pulsing against your buttocks, under the linen cloth that has been pulled up a little higher. He says nothing, but he is pleading, needy, in his gestures, which is rare for him.

Something has changed, after all, and perhaps something has changed in him too.

"I am awake, indeed, " you whisper in a voice that is still half asleep. The lump in your throat betrays the feeling of anxiety gradually creeping into your body, and Aemond seems to notice. Under your tunic, his hand moves up along your belly until it nestles against your chest, close to your heart. His thumb draws small circles, once again trying to bring you back to him.

Trying to calm your mind.

"Let us forget for a little longer," he whispers, his clenched jaw resting over your head. "Please."

And you know he never begs.

Aemond takes and doesn't ask.

Aemond believes he is owed everything and never gives in return.

Hearing him beg breaks something inside you, because this is the first time he does so.

Usually it was you, it was always you, begging for peace, begging for more, begging him not to leave you.

Part of him is as desperate as you are; part of him also dreads the moment when you will have to part again. Forever. It's comforting to know that his feelings are sincere, just like yours.

" Make me forget, then." You reply, moving your lower loins back against him, giving him tacit permission to explore your body once more. His fingers move down to your breasts, which he covers softly with his hand, his thumb skimming over a nipple to make it hard. You let out a gasp between your parted lips.

His hand slides lower, his palm flat against your lower belly, his fingertips brushing the light patch of hair at the top of your mound. You feel the familiar warmth growing between your thighs, in your core.

He sighs against the back of your skull, his head tilted forward. His lips search the skin at the nape of your neck, behind the long hair that has become tangled during the night, while his fingers intimately explore the secrets of your body that he knows all too well. The remnants of last night's lovemaking still smear the insides of your thighs and folds, but it doesn't matter; his fingers easily find the little bundle of nerves that they tease until you close your eyes, until your hand grips the damp, shabby sheet that covers the ragged mattress in the inn where you've spent the night.

Just the both of you, in the comfort of anonymity.

"Let me taste you". His voice, still husky, tickles the back of your neck and you feel him shift behind you. When you feel the warmth of his bare chest, against which you're nestled, leave your back, your body automatically tries to move back against him. You still need him. You still need him to chase away the lump of anxiety in the pit of your stomach and the voices that keep reminding you that you're only postponing the fateful moment. Your hand slips under your white tunic and wraps around his wrist to force him to stay there, to hold his fingers against the source of heat spreading from your core. Your hips are demanding, grinding against his hand. "On your back," he insists, and stands up on his forearms.

With reluctance you turn over. You obey, lying on your back, your hair spilled around your head on the flat, uncomfortable pillow on which you slept badly. The white tunic that serves as your nightgown is pulled up, crumpled, just above your crotch, which it barely conceals.

Aemond has swung over your body, silvery strands loosening from the braid that holds his hair behind his head and sliding down his shoulders, falling in loose loops on either side of his face, tickling your cheeks.

His lilac-tinted blue eye glows with a predatory gaze, a ray of light catching in the sapphire he hasn't removed from his socket.

He captures your lips with his own, begging for access. Aemond marks your jaw and throat with light kisses, sucking at your collarbone to make the violets of possessiveness with which he likes to adorn your body bloom. His lips travel down your chest, playing with one of the two small nipples raised by the cool air and by desire, and continue their journey past your navel.

Your heartbeat quickens as he settles between your legs, spreading your thighs to admire the part of you he covets so eagerly. At the same time you bend your legs, your gaze falling on him, on his unravelled hair, on his eye that locks with yours. He is so close to you, so close to your warm centre, and you know that between your folds the sweet nectar that your uncle longs to taste is already flowing.

But his lips trace the inside of your thighs instead, where the skin is soft and tender, and gradually they reach the hollow that connects them to your most intimate part. He takes a malicious pleasure in building up the tension, in savouring every millimetre of you like a fine delicacy, with only the tip of his lips brushing against your skin.

His thumbs spread the tender flesh of your womanhood and then he places a chaste kiss on the very centre of you. His tongue is shy at first, tracing the slit that connects your entrance to your little knob, collecting the evidence of your desire.

As his tongue wraps around your nub, your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white.

Aemond drinks from your essence like a thirsty man, his nose buried between your folds, rubbing your pearl.

The tip of his tongue catches what drips from your opening, and then the flat of his tongue tastes your slit, working its way up to the little nub gorged with desire.

He maintains the same rhythm, revelling in the moans that escape from your half-open lips. Soon his middle finger begins to draw circles against your entrance, the first knuckle sliding inside, then the whole finger. Your head is thrown back and immediately your hand buries itself in his silvery hair, gripping his braid in a messy bun behind the top of his head. Forcing his face against the most intimate part of your body, forcing his lips to work on your wet warmth, you seek more contact.

Aemond adds a second finger. He can feel you tighten around him as he searches for that particular spot, as his tongue continues to play with your bundle of nerves.

As he devours what is his, utterly his.

His fingers, the ones that aren't buried inside you, close around the flesh of your hip in a possessive grip. "Come for me," he whispers against your womanhood, his eyes lifted to you. "I know you can do it."

Your breathing becomes more erratic, faster too. You tighten the grip of your fingers in his hair, your thighs pressing either side of his face, and he collects the sweet taste of your release on his tongue with a hum.

You feel like you're floating. The waves of warmth still wash over you, less and less intense, your breast rising and falling as you catch your breath.

Your hand tucks a lock of his hair back behind his ear as Aemond lifts his face towards you, and you rest your hand against his cheek. His parted lips still glisten with your desire smeared across the lower part of his face. He stares at you without moving, his deep, regular breathing the only sound to break the silence that has followed your release. You stay like that for a moment, his gaze burning into yours. At any moment he might pounce on you. At any moment he might close the tiny distance separating your mouths and press his lips against yours like the starving man he is.

It's you who makes the first move. You taste yourself on his lips and your tongue entwines with his in a fiery, demanding kiss.

Straightening up, Aemond creeps between your legs, his hand on the underside of your thighs, holding them apart. He is still completely naked from the night before, he has not bothered to get dressed after your lovemaking, so you can catch a glimpse of his erect manhood, slightly curved. He wraps his hand around to guide it towards your still sensitive wet entrance.

He slides into you easily, in one slow movement. The haste of the night before, the urgency of the reunion, has given way to the tenderness and laziness of the early morning, and Aemond rocks inside you slowly. His hips undulate, punctuated by long, deep thrusts, in an illusion of domesticity.

But the damp sheets, rough against your skin, the discomfort of the hard mattress beneath your back, remind you that your lovemaking is anything but domestic.

For Aemond is still the enemy, for Aemond is supposed to be dead.

For your family is probably looking for you at this very moment, worried that you have not returned home for the night.

But you push those thoughts away. The weight of your uncle's body on top of yours soothes the knot that forms in the pit of your stomach at the thought of time slipping away, at the thought of having to leave him again, at the thought of this being the last time you will taste his lips, his skin.

Aemond is gentle, and that is rare enough to be worth mentioning. He has never been so gentle, so soft, in the limited time that you have been married.

Between you, there had been the devouring, consuming passion, the power play that in your submission had granted you dominance.

Between you it had been raw and devastating more than gentle and tender.

His fingers run the length of your body to your core, combining his slow, deep thrusts with the movement of his fingers against your clit.

There are only few words exchanged between you, as if you were both afraid to break the grace of the moment.

His panting, noisy breath echoes in the silence, skimming the skin of your throat, then mingling with yours as the shadow of his lips brushes against yours. He rests his forehead against yours, your hand cupping his cheek, sliding behind his neck, and you are transported into a cocoon of intimacy where nothing else exists around you.

There is only his body against yours, warm and reassuring.

There is only him inside you and the slow movement of his hips.

There is only your breathing, blending in the space that separates your mouths.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" He whispers against your lips as you close your thighs around him. "How much I dreamed of this tight little cunt?" You swallow his words. Your hips meet his as he pushes against you. He is reaching deep inside you. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his body oozes power and darkness, and you can't help but be drawn to that side of him that complements yours so well.

You can't stop your body from aching for him.

"You could have been my queen," he says as his movements grow stronger. He won't last long, but neither will you. He's inside you, where you like to feel him, and your walls clench around his member. "And I would have set the whole world on fire for you." He thrusts. "Burned it to the ground" He thrusts again. "All for you." And again.

The old wood of the bed creaks with each of his movements.

You seek out his lips, just to brush them against yours.

Without sealing the kiss.

"And I would have accepted," you answer with a whimper. "I would have been your queen, qybor." In another life, you think you would.

In another life, in another universe, you would have been his queen.

A grunt escapes his lips and lands in the hollow of your ear. Aemond straightens on his bent elbow, right next to your head, and he plunges into you one last time, with more power, more vigour, just as his new position allows.

You close your eyes.

A second wave of warmth is about to engulf your body.

And you wait for it, you welcome it.

"Look at me when I come inside you," he growls hoarsely as his seed pours deep inside you, into the most intimate part of your body. "Look at me as I fill you up."

Your eyes lock with his, fiery as ever. A final moan escapes between your lips and you seal them to your uncle's in a feverish, wet kiss. You hold him in your arms for a moment longer, as if to allow yourself the luxury of illusion for a brief instant.

You delay the fateful moment a little longer, fighting the minutes that inevitably slip through your fingers.

"Stay inside me just a little longer," you whisper, burying your head in the hollow of his neck where you can feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse. His arms close around you, holding you tight against him, and you hear him purr against the hair on the crown of your head. He rocks you gently.

The silence welcomes you both into its embrace and you savour it like a treasure. Your body aches in the sweetest way, your insides throbbing around his softening manhood.

And around you, nothing exists anymore.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

"I've changed, you know." His hoarse voice vibrates against you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You keep them closed.

You're not sure if Aemond has really changed. Aemond is ruthless, cold, brutal, calculating, merciless. Cruel. You're not sure if Aemond can ever change, but he shows unusual tenderness, and maybe, just maybe, you allow yourself to doubt. You indulge in the illusion.

Perhaps Vhagar's death has broken something in him.

Perhaps it's true, perhaps he's not the same man anymore.

He's not sorry for what he has done. He never will be. He's too proud, even if you can catch the glimmer of remorse that colours his icy eyes when he is not looking at you.

Does he think of your little brother? Is he haunted by the memory of him, as you have been for so many years?

Does he think of the innocents he killed without flinching, the blood he spilled in the Riverlands that now stains the burned grass?

Is his sanity slowly being eaten away by the atrocities he has committed with his own hands?

He has changed. You are not sure if he's changed for the better or for the worse, but he has indeed.

Daemon has changed too. So has Rhaenyra. So has Jace.

You too have changed.

For war changes people, war makes them weary and wary, it shatters something in the body that will never be the same again. It hollows out the roundness of the cheeks, it deepens the dark circles under the eyes, it fades the sparkle of childhood that remains in the eyes.

Aemond seems to be waiting for an answer, but the words remain stuck in your throat. I know, you want to whisper, I know, but suddenly you've forgotten how to speak. His thumb draws the soft line of the underside of your breast.

The future terrifies you more than ever. You had made peace with your past, you had come to a conclusion that, even if it pained you, had given you some respite.

Seeing your uncle alive had reawakened your demons.

Spending the night in the embrace of his arms had revived everything you had buried deep, deep down.

The past had returned, creeping towards you, gnawing at the corners of your heart and at what remained of your sense of stability and certainty.

Now you are plunged into doubt.

Just as you were a little over three years ago, when you were informed of his death, when you had to learn to live with the choice that had never really been given to you.

Just as three years ago, when you noticed a familiar lilac-tinged blue in Rhaegar's eyes.

Like when you had to live with the memories that haunted you, that were slowly eating away at what little sanity you had left.

Like when you finally decided to leave for the North.

Aemond seems to sense your anguish, because his fingers get lost in your hair.

"What are we going to do now?"

Finally, you dare to utter the inevitable words that have been hanging on the tip of your tongue since you woke up, words you've swallowed so many times this morning. You immediately blame yourself.

Saying them only makes them more real.

They tear at something in the imaginary cocoon you've built for yourselves. You bury your face against his skin, breathe in his scent, as if you never want to forget him.

For you know how fleeting memories can be.

You remember how his face faded with each passing day.

You don't know if you'll ever be able to experience it a second time.

"We could leave," Aemond replies, as his fingers venture to your jaw, caressing the line of your cheeks with the back of his knuckles.

He's so pragmatic, as always.

Even in this situation.

Even now.

It makes you want to shake him.

"We could run away," he says again. His gaze, fixed in the distance, falls on you at the same moment. "To Essos. Pentos. No one would know who we are." You close your eyes, and let his hoarse voice lull you into silence. "To start our own family, the three of us."

You know he is not serious. Even though he looks at you with such insistence, with that flame that flickers in the centre of his iris.

You relish his fantasy, this impossible dream.

But you can't leave your family; Essos is not Winterfell. There, they knew where to find you. They knew you were safe. They knew you were sheltered between the walls of the northern castle, under the heavy furs, under the protection of Cregan Stark.

Essos is the unknown.

You cannot let your mother lose her only daughter, not after everything she has already lost.

The itch is familiar, tickling at the corners of your eyes. There was a time when you thought you'd lost that sensitivity. When you thought the war had left you cold, incapable of feeling anything. Incapable of crying.

"You know I can't." Your nose rubs against his milky skin, made clammy by sweat. You keep your eyes closed because you feel the weight of his cold gaze on you, his furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you blankly, his lips pursed in a long, thin line. You don't have the courage to meet his accusing gaze, let alone the wounded look on his face as you crush all his illusory dreams into dust.

When did you become the more pragmatic of the two?

When did you become the one responsible for bringing Aemond back to reality?

It used to be you, the one who filled your mind with unrealistic dreams, the one who dreamed of stories and fairy tales, back when you could still dream. "They need me, you know that."

A sneer stretches across your uncle's lips as he swallows a chuckle that sounds more like an ironic growl. You feel his whole body tense against yours, a sign that he's holding back his annoyance.

A sign that he has something to say, that he's upset, but doesn't quite know how to put it into words.

"Like they needed you back then?" he replies scathingly, bitterness on the tip of his tongue. "When they used you as a bargaining chip to achieve their ends, hm?"

Your red cheeks burn with shame, as if he'd slapped you. You don't move, merely swallow hard. You know there's something right about what he is saying, but you don't want to admit it.

You've done your duty.

You've done what is expected of you as a daughter.

It was not a question of them using you. It never was.

It was your duty, only your duty, what you were always meant to perform, wasn't it?

And yet a small voice in the back of your head had already given you a similar speech, a few years ago, but you had tried to silence it.

You refused to let Aemond admit it. You refuse to allow him to do it. He had no idea, no right to criticise your family when he'd acted like that.

When he has done what he has done.

He has no idea what it is like to be a daughter.

You don't answer, and silence falls between you again.

You wish so desperately that he could go home with you; that he could tell them that he's sorry.

You wish it were easier.

There is no one left to wait for Aemond but you, but his son, you know that. His family has been decimated, as has yours in some ways, though you still have your parents and your older brother.

For your uncle, there's nothing left but the shadow of his existence, the shadow of who he once was, long ago.

You let your hand trace the side of his throat, your nose buried against it, your lips hovering over his skin. You lean against him, your body on top of his, pressed together as if you were afraid to let him go.

"You could come with me instead," you whisper, but you refuse to meet his gaze. There's something shameful in the words you've just spoken aloud, something naive, and your burning cheeks are proof of your embarrassment.

Almost imperceptibly, he clenches beneath you, holding his breath. This is a bad idea and you feel stupid. Naive to have dared to suggest something like this.

His voice purrs in a hm that vibrates against you. He's about to say something. He searches for words. "You know that -"

"I know." You cut him off sharply - a little more than you would have liked, your eyes raised to silence him.

You know what he thinks.

He thinks that Rhaenyra will never be his queen. He thinks he will never bend the knee to his eldest sister and her authority, which he doesn't recognise.

He thinks that with the death of Aegon, with the death of the children his brother fathered with Helaena, the throne belongs to him.

And you are aware of his ambitions. You know how perfectly the conqueror's crown fits his head. You know how it sets off the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. You remember the look of greed in his eyes every time he stared at the Iron Throne, you remember the look of pride on his face every time he scorned anyone who dared to question his decisions as Prince Regent.

You know how mercilessly he made the soldiers at Harrenhal kneel, forcing them to contemplate their impending deaths. You know the terror he has sown throughout the Riverlands.

Even in the Seven Hells you could have found more mercy than at the hands of Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond may have changed, but you're not sure he's changed enough to put aside the pride that is consuming him from within.

You take a deep breath. "You don't really have a choice, qybor."

Fearing his reaction, you curl into a fetal position, your back to him, your knees drawn up to you. You close your eyes. You wait for his frustration.

You wait for his sentence.

You know that he is aware that he has no choice.

He has only two options: swallow his pride or sink back into the abyss, disappear into the dark meanders of oblivion.

Rhaegar needed his father, of course, but you found him a father in Cregan Stark.

That was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

There was no way you would give up what family you had left.

For Rhaegar needed his grandparents and his uncle even more.

Behind you, you feel your uncle's hand slip under your tunic and around your body, pulling you against him. He presses his bare chest against your back, tucking your head under his chin. His hand caresses your stomach, then his fingers brush the base of your breast.

"You know she will never be my queen. You know the throne belongs to -" But he lets the words drop without finishing the sentence, the knowledge of what he was about to say hanging in the air between you.

As long as he remains alive, will the embers of war never truly be extinguished?

You don't know, but you accept the risk.

You close your eyes, as if you're about to jump into the icy depths with both feet.

"The rest is up to you, Aemond," you whisper, barely audible. "And if you have truly changed, then you will know how to make the right choice."

He says nothing.

You savour the last few minutes of illusion you have left.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The fear of making the wrong choice never really leaves you, but your mother chases your fears away, as she so often did when you were a child, tucking one of your dark curls behind your ear. She has her distinctive little smirk on her lips, the one that pulls the corner of her lips up towards her nose.

The same one Lucerys had, you think sadly.

You still miss him, even after all this time, and sometimes you wonder what kind of young man he would have become.

"You're a clever girl, my sweet clever girl," she whispers against your forehead as she cradles you in her arms. She's as beautiful as ever, as gentle with you as ever, despite the years, despite the wear and tear of war that has hardened her features and hollowed her cheeks. "And I know you have made the right decision." She lifts your chin with her forefinger to look into your eyes, and you feel like you're turning back into that shy, insecure girl who disappeared somewhere in the violence of the war all those years ago.

"And if it should turn out that you were wrong... Daemon will be there to intervene. You know he is just waiting for that." You roll your eyes at her attempt at humour, and she plants a kiss on your forehead.

For a split second, you truly are that carefree little girl again.

But behind your mother's humour lie fragments of reality that make your laughter bitter.

The news of your husband's survival remains a hazy blur in your mind. Sometimes you're not sure if this conversation really occurred or if you're dreaming.

You're not sure if what's around you, if the night you spent in Aemond's arms, is real or an invention of your sick mind.

Sometimes you're not really conscious of the events or how long they lasted, the lump in your stomach grows back, and once again you're destined to carve half-moons marks in the palms of your hands to soothe the tension in your body.

You told your mother first because you knew she'd be more understanding. As a mother, as a woman, she knows the meaning behind certain silences, the weight of words, the unspoken words that float between sentences.

You know she can understand your pain and your doubts, but also your love and your compassion.

She was shocked when you told her that her younger brother was still alive. She smoothed her dress, paced back and forth, then took the time to sit down, her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes riveted to your face, looking for clues that would betray what you were thinking, what you might be hiding. She was afraid that he had hurt you. She was afraid that he would rip you away from her, just as he had once ripped your little brother away from her.

Her fingers had gently taken your hand and her thumb had drawn little circles on the back of your hand to comfort you. She listened to you first as you confessed everything.

Where you were that night when you didn't come home.

Who you were with.

And then she took you in her arms. She reassured you. Soothed you.

You had been so afraid of disappointing her, of disappointing all of them, that the tension paralysing your body had finally loosened and you burst into tears.

Things had proved more complicated with Daemon. When he learned that his nephew was alive, that he wasn't forgotten forever in the deep waters of the lake near Harrenhal, he refused to believe you. He was furious. He said he had seen him fall, that he was the one who had taken his life, tearing the sky apart.

You didn't know where to look, and it was in your mother's eyes that you sought support, comfort, anything in the face of your stepfather's rage. You could feel on you the look of disappointment of your brother, Jace, as he held his shoulders up and his chin high. He wanted to prove that one day he would be a good king. With his jaw clenched, he said nothing, looking at you as if you were suddenly so foreign to him. He probably didn't know what to say, for fear of being clumsy, for fear of unintentionally hurting you, even more than by his lack of support.

You know it wasn't his fault.

He simply couldn't understand.

The words stuck in your throat and you found yourself unable to speak, pearls glittering in the corners of your eyes while you waited impatiently for the final blow.

The final death knell that would seal your disgrace in everyone's eyes.

After all you'd endured.

Daemon stood before you, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes hard. He was staring at you as if you'd committed the ultimate treason, and you knew he was controlling himself to keep his anger from exploding. "You're going to bring him to me," he had hissed, his hand closing over your shoulder.

" You will lure him here and he will be put to the sword." His tone left no room for argument. With the tension growing in your stomach, you sought your mother's compassionate look to calm you. You could see the fury in your stepfather's eyes, and also a mixture of fear and feelings of betrayal. You knew that, deep down, he was afraid for you because he considers you his daughter. Because Baela and Rhaena are like sisters to you.

It was his reaction you feared most, not your mother's. His fingers dug into your skin, the floor slipping out from under you, the room swaying dangerously, and your mother had come to your rescue, trying to calm things down with her usual diplomacy.

You can't quite remember the words your stepfather said; in anger he muttered something that sounded like are you really thinking of becoming his whore again? and the words hurt like hell, but you tried to swallow the pain.

Endure, hold your head high. That was what you had learned.

Your mother had suggested you go back to your room or spend some time with Rhaegar, her fingers gently stroking your dark locks, and as soon as you left the throne room you could hear their voices echoing through the door.

They were arguing.

Over you.

Because of you, again.

You took a deep breath and returned to the gardens, where your two stepsisters were making your son laugh by playing with him. They had fun running around in the damp grass to the applause of Baela's little daughter, who clapped her little hands in delight.

Your fingers were still trembling when you joined them.

In the end a solution was found, for your mother feared losing you a second time.

She remembered what had happened to Laenor, your father, when he had grown tired of the court.

She remembered what had happened to Helaena, your sweet aunt, when she could no longer bear to suffer.

It was her worst nightmare to see you torn from her again, now that she had the chance to hold you in her arms every day, to protect you again, to see you grow again.

It was her worst nightmare to see her only daughter, her only daughter and the second of her only surviving children, taken from her.

You and Jace were all she had left of her own blood.

After long negotiations with Daemon, you had managed to bargain for your husband's life in exchange for strict conditions; increased surveillance, no bonding with a new dragon, no carrying of weapons, and the assurance that he would be executed if there was the slightest doubt about him. You proposed that you and he leave the capital, with your son as well. To return to Dragonstone. To start over on a new, blank page in a book that was already too damaged.

For you, it was also a way to ease the tensions between your family and Aemond, and perhaps find a more intimate life with your husband and son.

Rhaenyra had declared that this was the best solution: a guarantee for her to have you by her side again, a guarantee for her that you would be there.

You had been afraid of Aemond's reaction, afraid that his ego would not bear it; that he would refuse, that he would rather sentence himself to his own death than to an existence as a prisoner within his own family, condemned to live as a shadow of the man he had once been in exchange for seeing his son grow up.

But in the end, wasn't he doomed to live as a shadow of the man he had once been, anyway?

He would never be the rider of Vhagar again.

He would never be the ruthless Prince Regent again.

He would never again be the second in line to the throne, the second son greedily waiting for fate to turn in his favour.

He hadn't been all of that for a good three years, lurking in the cold, gloomy corridors of Harrenhal like a lonely monster.

And if he went back, if he rejected your proposal, he would have condemned himself to eternal solitude at the side of a witch you would rather forget.

He had no choice, for he would never be that Aemond again.

When you joined your husband at the meeting place, you were relieved to see him swallow his pride and accept. It was difficult, but you convinced him.

For Rhaegar, for his son.

Aemond had suggested that you run away, far away from everything, and you almost hesitated. Running away would have allowed you to forget, of course.

But your deepest wounds had begun to heal. You had begun to be able to face the ghosts that haunted King's Landing, the ghosts that haunted Dragonstone.

To stop there was tempting, and yet so frightening at the same time.

The unknown terrified you. You needed familiarity now, something to fall back on, for you were so tired.

Now you can't help bringing your thumb to your lips, nibbling the skin at the corner of your fingernail with the tip of your teeth as you walk away from Rhaenyra. A handmaiden brings you Rhaegar, and you struggle to breathe.

You inhale.

You exhale.

The thick tuft of brown hair makes you smile. The sight of your son is enough to give you the courage to walk with a more confident stride. It's as if you were filled with new strength, for you know that he needs you more than anyone else. And for him, you've promised yourself to stay strong.

As soon as you reach him, you kneel and plant a kiss on his plump cheeks.

He's growing up so fast that sometimes you wish you could stop time.

"There's someone who'd like to meet you, sweet boy," you explain, and you can recognise your mother's inflection in your own voice. Sweet boy. Rhaegar looks at you with big, round, questioning eyes, and you wonder if he senses your anxiety, because he takes your hand between his tiny fingers.

"Who, muña ?" he babbles, striding down the cobbled path in the middle of the gardens, hopping on his clumsy little legs, and you smile at his carefree attitude. He stops to watch the bees foraging, bends down to pick up a flower and gives it to you. He's always so curious, so full of life. He's a ray of sunshine that brightens your dull days. You finally understand your mother, the agonising fear she has of losing you. You finally understand the horror she experienced when she lost her four other children.

You also finally understand why Helena threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast.

The thought of what Daemon did still revolts you, and you can't imagine anyone hurting your boy like that.

You turn around. Rhaenyra is still there, in the distance, her crown on her head, her hands crossed in front of her on the heavy fabric of her dress, watching over you. She won't move, a comforting, discreet presence.

A stone bench awaits you by the fountain, on which two cushions have been arranged. A dessert buffet has been set up under the gazebo and you immediately spot your favourite cakes, the strawberry one, the blackberry jam one, and you look down at your son. He hasn't noticed them yet, or he would have already run over, dipped his finger in the whipped cream and stolen a blueberry from one of the tarts, his innocent expression on his face.

He is definitely a lot like you. Mischievous and clever. An angelic air. He is an easy-going child who never throws a tantrum.

Who understands quickly, too.

"I love you. I love you more than anything, you know that, don't you, young boy?" your tone is soft, and you kneel down in front of him, your hands on his small shoulders to emphasise the seriousness of your discussion. You search for your words, hesitating. How do you tell a three-year-old that his father, his dead father, is back from the dead and about to meet him?

Of course, Rhaegar knows that his birthfather was valiant, that his birthfather rode the greatest dragon in the world, that his birthfather died in battle.

But there is so much he doesn't know, so much he will inevitably learn as he grows up, and it is precisely that future that frightens you. You hug him as if you're afraid of losing him.

"Princess."

The deep voice of your sworn protector echoes behind you, and you straighten your skirt.

You know he is there.

You know you will see him the moment you turn around.

Your heartbeat quickens.

Aemond Targaryen stands behind your sworn protector, surrounded by two guards. His hands are bound in front of him.

It is so strange to see your uncle in this vulnerable position. He who for so long has been on the other side, he who for so long has been the one who bent others to his will. He looks at you harshly, and you almost feel the need to apologise.

But you know it is a matter of caution.

You know that Daemon, you know that Jace and even your mother would never have agreed to bring him in if such precautions hadn't been taken.

You admire his resilience, his determination. You admire his ability to hold his head high, to be confident, despite the fact that he is being treated like a common prisoner, about to be sentenced to death.

You struggle to swallow the lump that has formed in your throat.

"Who's that, muña?" Aemond's eyes leave you and immediately drop to the small figure that has appeared beside you, reaching for your hand, huddling against your leg, shy and worried.

Immediately, your husband's icy gaze, his lilac-coloured eyes, soften.

"Thank you, Sir Rowan. You may leave us."

Despite the worry on his face, your sworn protector nods, unties his prisoner's hands and walks back to your mother, accompanied by the other two guards. You watch them leave, and a strange silence fills the space between you and your uncle.

He doesn't look at you; his eyes are riveted to your son, whom he observes with wonder. He looks as if he is admiring the most beautiful and fascinating discovery he has ever seen. You look down to see Rhaegar's reaction, and he seems as intimidated as he is hypnotised by that gaze, by that blue and purple eye so similar to his owns, by this man looking at him as if he were one of the most marvellous things in the world.

"Gods, he's perfect," Aemond murmurs as he looks up at you, emerging from his trance. He comes closer to embrace you. And for once, there is something other than his usual brutal possessiveness and ferocity when his arms close around you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond is shy at first. Awkward.

He's shy and amazed as he follows your son's every move with his good eye. From time to time, his gaze rests on you, as if to make sure he's not dreaming. As if to make sure he is doing right, seeking your approval.

Rhaegar is shy too, at first.

When he sits on your lap, he snuggles up to you, buries his face in your neck, one of your locks curled in his chubby little hand and he rubs it against his nose. From time to time, he turns to give his father a curious look, recognising his own eyes in the unfamiliar face before him.

Aemond's expression grows gentler, a softness never seen in his features before.

Once he has tamed the stranger, the little boy pecks at the blueberries in the tart in front of him. He shakes his legs, hitting your knees in painful little jabs, and your arm wraps around his body to hold him down.

Rhaegar loves cake, and the sugar may be coaxing him, for he's regaining his appetite for talking.

"He really does have my eyes," Aemond whispers incredulously, and his voice, still foreign to his son's ears, causes the little boy to lift his head.

" It is definitely the only thing he has inherited from you," you reply, teasing him with a small smile at the corner of your lips.

Soon Rhaegar finishes the blueberry tart, the cream smeared over the bottom of his face and the tip of his nose.

"He inherited that from you, that is certain." Aemond grins, pointing with his long chin at the boy's voracious appetite for cakes and pastries.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. That your husband is really standing in front of you, with your son, like a normal family.

That he was truly trying to tell a joke.

This form of domesticity is so alien to your relationship, and yet so pleasant, that you find yourself thinking that perhaps you have made the right decision, indeed, if every day can be like this.

"Your muña deserves some cake too, what do you say, little one?"

Rhaegar giggles. Aemond cuts a slice of your favourite cake, the one with the strawberries, and puts it on your plate.

You blush. After all these years, he hasn't forgotten which one is your favourite.

You can't even really whisper a thank you because this apparent domesticity, this feeling of completeness, this interlude of happiness makes you uneasy. Anxious.

You have the feeling that at any moment you'll be plunged back into the horror of what you went through all those years ago.

You have the feeling that at any moment the Gods will be cruel and snatch away this happiness that you've barely been able to taste, leaving only the memory of its sweet taste on your lips.

You breathe in and out, as you often do when you feel your palpitations rising in your chest.

"Do you... do you want to take him on your lap?" you ask your uncle with shyness, your hand stroking Rhaegar's thick brown curls. Aemond looks at you as if you have spoken in a foreign language. Lips parted, he is about to say something, but not a sound escapes his lips. His lonely eye travels from you to your son, from your son to you, in silence.

"I don't know if -"

You can hear the doubt in his voice, and it's almost touching to see him lose his confidence in front of his own son, to see him so nervous and unsure of himself.

You let out a little laugh, not in mockery, obviously, just full of tenderness.

You know what he's thinking.

He's afraid of frightening him.

He's afraid of harming him.

"You won't hurt him, Aemond."

He answers nothing. He still doesn't like to look vulnerable, unsure, and you know it has to do with his childhood. With all he has kept bottled up inside him all these years. He will need time.

Your eyes fall back to the little boy sitting in your lap, and you draw his attention to yourself by stroking the curls on his forehead.

"Do you want to go to Aemond for a while? To kepus?"

you correct yourself immediately, and Rhaegar nods in agreement.

You are amazed at how easily he slips off your legs to run to his father, to pull himself onto his lap, when only a few hours ago he was so intimidated by the presence of this stranger with the eyepatch.

Your uncle automatically puts his arm around his waist to make him feel comfortable, his new role taking root in him. His fingers reach for the cloth on the table, and he wipes Rhaegar's face, who can't help but burst out laughing at his father's clumsy gestures.

For a split second you are lost in contemplating the horizon, the stillness of the sea. You taste the sea breeze on your face.

And then you turn your head towards the cobbled path where the guards and your sworn protector are still stationed.

Your mother is no longer there, and you notice that you have not at any time felt the need to seek comfort in her presence.

You smile, for in the end you know you've made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Dragonstone, 6 months later.

When you walk the corridors of the place that saw you grow up, you are no longer haunted by the ghosts and their incessant cries. A kind of peace has settled over you, a return to the pleasant familiarity you've waited so long for.

You still think of Luke, of course. Of Luke and Joff and little Aegon and Viserys, your brothers you will never see grow old.

But you no longer feel their disapproving glances at every step you take. You are no longer kept awake by their cries, by their tears, by the remorse that twists your stomach.

You no longer blame yourself.

Perhaps you've finally learnt to make peace with yourself.

The heavy door of the bedroom you share with Aemond is half open, and you slip your head into the doorway, piqued by curiosity.

Snuggled on your husband's lap, Rhaegar is staring at the pages of a large book, the corners of which you can guess are horned, the cover worn, from being carried everywhere. You can imagine the jam stains that mark the paper with children's fingerprints. You know exactly which page is missing, the one you and Aemond accidentally tore out and hid so the Septa wouldn't notice, so many years ago.

It is a book about dragons, the very one the two of you used to read hidden under the table when you were so young and innocent, long before the torment of war.

Without a sound, you lean against the doorframe and contemplate for a moment the perfect vision before you.

You don't have the cruelty to disturb them.

"This one is Vhaegar!" shouts Rhaegar, and you hold your breath, searching Aemond's face for any hint that might betray his reaction. The mention of his former dragon is still a sensitive subject for him, you know it.

"Yes, that's Vhagar." he pauses. "She was brave."

From the corner of his eye, Aemond spots your silhouette in the faint glow of the corridor, and his attention lingers on you for a moment. He's almost embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment, but you smile tenderly to encourage him.

"And big!" the little boy adds, energetically raising his arms to the sky to emphasise his words.

"Yes, and big." There's a suspended moment of silence where the words hang in the air, and then your husband gently ruffles his son's hair. It's a tender sight to see them bond like this, and your heart fills with happiness.

Taking a step forward, you step into the light of the room and Rhaegar expresses his joy at seeing you. You smile back at him and approach the chair where Aemond sits, your son on his lap.

Your uncle's hand instantly rests on the curve of your belly, which he still stares at with the same protective instinct, the same fascination, as the day you told him the news. His eyes sparkle.

"Your daughter is restless today."

He looks up at you, not without lingering for a moment on your breasts and their new shape.

"My daughter?" he asks, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"I'm convinced it's a girl. You reply, smiling wryly, and take a seat in the armchair next to the one where Aemond and your son are sitting, facing the fireplace. "And she took after her father, given her temper," you tease him, your hand on the top of your rounded belly to soothe the baby growing there.

Rhaegar's eyes close slowly. Nestled against the chest of the man who, just a few months ago, was still a stranger, he fights sleep, he fights to stay awake, but tiredness quickly overcomes him. And then he falls asleep, his mouth half open, the movements of his breath making his chest rise and fall rhythmically.

Aemond finally gets up. You follow his movements with your eyes as he approaches you, the child in his arms, and he plants a kiss on the top of his head.

"I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be right back." He straightens and lowers his voice.

"I wouldn't fail in my duty and neglect my wife." The heat rises to your cheeks, turning them red at the implication of what awaits you tonight. You're already wet between your thighs at the thought.

But you nod in agreement and watch him walk away.

You are left alone in the silence of the room. The only sound around you is the steady crackling of the fire.

It's strange, you think, to be back on Dragonstone, in the familiarity of the stones you've spent most of your life between, after getting used to the idea of not surviving the war.

To the idea of dying from a broken heart.

To the idea of dying, the umpteenth victim of the vicious spiral of conflict that has torn your family apart.

And yet here you are.

With your own family.

For once you have hope for the future. You hear the cries of your little brother, lost in the storm so long ago, but they are quickly replaced by the laughter of a happy memory.

And finally, you have the absolute confirmation that you have made the right decision.

*** *** *** *** ***

Thank you so much for reading!! <3

Tag list : @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis (I'm tagging you since you asked for it ❤️)

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

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grandline-fics · 1 month

Note

love you have given me mihawk brain worms ong, please i need to spend the rest of my days having lots of domestic but sweet moments with him

i just know that beneath his aloof demeanor he is just smitten with his s/o

DESCRIPTION: Domestic life with him

WARNINGS: none, just fluff

CHARACTERS: Mihawk

WORDS: 640

A/N: I know this wasn't an actual request but my health has been bad and I've been waiting over two weeks for test results so needed some indulgent fluff to feel better. Hope you enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

With what he does taking him away from you so often, the times he does return to you means he enjoys every second he can with you. While you sleep, you’re kept protectively and lovingly in his hold; one arm around your waist and the other cradling your head with his fingers through your hair. Mihawk keeps his head pressed into the crook of your neck and his lips against your skin, not just for indulgence but to also feel your steady pulse. He always wakes first, to enjoy the warmth of your body and the soak up the feeling of calm your presence grants him. He’ll lie still and relaxed in the blissful silence. It’s rare for Mihawk to open his eyes first. He likes to wait for you to stir and turn in his hold and press a gentle good morning kiss against his lips before he’ll pretend to wake because if it’s not your face he sees first thing, what’s the point?

Mihawk has no sense of personal space when you two are together. He’s practiced and aloof enough to be subtle. When you are out in town shopping together he’ll stand close, the back of his fingers just close enough to graze against the small of your back. Or sometimes he’ll stand with his arm against yours. You’re used to it and will always gladly lean into him so to the untrained eye it looks like you’re the one responsible for the lack of space between you two. However if they looked for long enough they’d notice how Mihawk would casually follow you when you hurried to the next stall or store front to browse the wares and how he would always come to a stop beside you once more.

When you’re lounging together, him with a glass of wine and a book and you with the paper in your hands, you like to inform him of the news that he wouldn’t think to look into otherwise. Most of the time though you’re looking for old rivals of his or acquaintances with a smile, already awaiting his dry commentary on their activity.

“Love, look. Your son’s bounty has gone up!” You tell him with a genuine bright grin as you hold up Zoro’s updated bounty poster. Mihawk’s eyebrow always quirks at your affectionate term for someone he would at most call his student. Still he can’t help but feel some sort of satisfaction at seeing the other swordsman’s bounty gaining higher and higher amounts because he knows most of that is down to his instruction.

“They grow up so fast.” He notes and you grin, setting the poster aside to put proudly on the fridge when you get up later.

Mihawk will do anything you ask of him even if it’s something he would avoid. Introducing you to the Cross Guild for instance was something he would have sooner never seen happen. You understood that he was private by nature and neither Crocodile or Buggy really needed to know about his relationship with you. Still all you’d mentioned was that it would be nice to properly meet the men he was working with and as a result he took you to them. Crocodile was more surprised that you ‘deemed someone like Mihawk worthy of your time’ and Buggy couldn’t believe that someone as notorious and dangerous as you had actually settled down and were with Mihawk of all people. Now that they know about you, you do make it a point to visit Mihawk more so he isn’t always coming to you all the time. However with every visit you have to constantly refuse Buggy and Crocodile’s proposition for you to join as an official member as you’re still having fun doing your own thing and being independent from Mihawk makes your reunions so much sweeter.

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece x you #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece fic #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #one piece fanfiction #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk #op mihawk

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mo0nfairy · 1 year

Note

I gotta see a part of yandere Leon where reader remembers him as they get through los Iluminados maybe some yandere in action lol (at least only if you want to!)

part 1. part 3. part 4.

tw :: obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, mention of drugs, framing, handcuffs, stalking, trauma, guns, wounds, heights, being locked up.

⸺ ooooooo !!! i've been meaning to make a part 2 of my last ask, but had zero idea where to go from where i ended. i also had played a bit of RE2 before the remake came out recently, so a piece of my brain has been kept up in raccoon city for a little while. i would love to express my thoughts and mesh these two games together !!

let's start with where we left off in los iluminados.

upon having your handcuffs taken off by the stranger who is far too close for comfort, you pace backwards, far away as you can get from this insanity of a man. his attitude abruptly shifts into something softer, a major contrast to the emotional breakdown he had just seconds prior. he realizes you're afraid — afraid of him. and as much as the mere thought destroys him to the point of breaking down again, he shoves a sob back down his throat and keeps his distance, despite how desperately he wishes to close it.

6 years. 6 years. he has been waiting over 2,190 miserable days for this single moment. all the sleepless nights spent searching the world for you; all the hopeless nights spent clinging to pillows, praying by some miracle it will somehow become you. every second of these past 6 years has been spent dreaming of this single moment. and even though your reunion wasn't the teary-eyed, passionate kiss in the rain he had hoped for, you are still here with him nonetheless.

and like hell will he let you slip from his grasp again.

with as much time as his needy self would grant him being physically away from you, he is soon at your side. leon then wraps you in his jacket and you swear you hear a harsh gasp escape from him when his finger accidentally makes contact with the skin of your neck. despite your negligence and more-than-obvious discomfort, you do appreciate the new warm embrace after a week of cold rain and damp clothes. it smells exactly like him, as well.

and with that, he's got a gentle hand hovering over your lower back as he guides you through the depths of this hellhole. and piece by piece, memories that had been buried in your brain begin to disinter themselves.

for example, you got a staring problem bro?? for the entirety of the time you spend with leon in los iluminados, there is literally never a single moment where this mans eyes are not on you. half of the time it is to ensure you are unharmed, but the other half consists of him staring in complete and utter awe. it's kind of hard to focus on surviving when leon is constantly staring into your soul. but it has just been so fucking long since he has been able to see you in all of your glory, so please excuse him for any inappropriate behavior on his end.

also, you knew you have lived in raccoon city for a short period of time before the events of RE2 happened, but like everything else that relates to that damned place, you couldn't remember a thing.

except now. leon's gaze uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held in one of the RPD holding cells. the atrocious scent, the uncomfortable bench, the paint peeling from the walls. you try and scrutinize what on earth you could have been arrested for, but your attempts are merely futile. but unbeknownst to you, your arrest was nothing but bullshit. and to say leon has had a crush on you from the second you moved into RC would be nothing short of the truth. so, by pulling some strings, the rookie had managed to lock you up for what he calls 'bonding time'. he'll place a chair backwards in front of your cell, prop his arms on the backrest and admire you with your full attention finally on him (instead of just stalking you around town).

two things you now remember about this man: he was so adorably baby-faced back then and my god, was he awkward. he still cannot talk for shit and i mean this with my whole heart. his sweet, innocent eyes gaze at you while he tries to play it cool, pulling cards like "yeah, i workout" and "you come here often?". all as if he hadn't personally arrested you for possession of illegal substances he planted himself. (nothing will happen to you, obvi. he just desperately needed a second alone with you to show off how charismatic he can be. or try to be, at least).

and for the short second of seeing him after 6 years, his eyes were just devoid of any life. you had assumed the trauma inflicted from that night had caused such a contrast in his physical appearance, and you would be right to assume that. but the soulless eyes, monotone voice, and lackluster personality was entirely due to your disappearance. days upon days of the lonely, eternal torment destroyed his sanity. however, that illustrious boy you can barely remember seems to have returned with your presence.

another thing you can't believe you had forgotten was how intense his stare is. the way he stares is illegible and sometimes overwhelming. he shivers in his stance, whimpers at your every move, and his mind runs rampant with all sorts of obsessive declarations of love. although it may seem creepy to others and especially yourself, do not fret. he has no ill intent towards you, god he could never! this puppy-dog of a man is simply marveling at your sheer existence.

you are able to retrieve another lost memory when you have to jump from a window and into his arms (for those who say he won't be able to catch you, stfu. have ya'll seen how beefy his arms are??? anyways....). the secret agent you have grown to like during your stay in los iluminados jumps down marvelously (most def showing off his james-bond-esque agilities to you). he now watches from below as you stare at the distance beneath you in trepidation. this distrust you have — he is going to travel to the ends of the universe to fix it. no matter what.

you begin to ponder, he has savagely brutalized all threats in your path and held your hand as if he were holding the world all in the same breath. you should trust him, especially after witnessing the pure display of loyalty he has for you.

"don't be afraid, y/n. i'll catch you, i promise!" there is 10000% a way to walk through the house and down the stairs to get to him, but ofc he's not gonna tell you. why would he willingly throw away the opportunity to be your knight in shining armor?

"you will?" your voice is full of apprehension. his stare on you feels like the same bullets he's forced upon your attackers.

"always."

with that, you rip the bandaid off and jump from the ledge. and leon was most certainly not lying. you land safely in his embrace and he wraps his arms tightly around your form. and to finally have you so close, after so, so long of devastatingly praying he could feel you once more.......... if he had a tail, it would for sure be wagging so fast it would morph into a blur. and the way he holds you is different, as if his gentle nature is reserved for you and you only (which it is. this is literally him in a nutshell).

and when you had instinctively buried your face into his neck upon landing, clinging to him out of fear of hitting the ground, he literally melts. i'm serious, he literally just 🫠🫠🫠🫠. the faint hum of laughter and adoration that escapes his throat breaks you out of your state of shock. you made it safely to the ground without breaking every bone in your body, hooray! (as if there is a single reality in existence where leon would ever allow that to happen, but i digress).

you meet his gaze and there is that all-too familiar stare he gives you. leon's arms holding onto you like a lifeline uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held like this all those years ago. you can't recall exactly where in raccoon city you were, but you can remember how humiliated you were when you tripped over a crack in the pavement and ate shit. there was the fairest of scrapes against your shin, but the mortification hurt far more than any wound. while you dust yourself off and attempt to ignore the burning stares of pedestrians, a shout of your name sparks your attention.

the RPD gear and besotted eyes you're met with could be no other than that baby-faced rookie. you ponder of what he was doing on this side of town. was it a simple coincidence you had run into each other? or perhaps, had he followed you? just when you think you can't feel more embarrassed, leon gets down on one knee and dramatically inspects your wound. and my god, he acts like you were shot or something. he visibly shudders from the sight of your leg; people begin to gather around the commotion. with pure ease, he then scoops you into his arms to bring you to safety. you can feel his heart pound like a machine gun beneath the palm of your hand.

despite the humiliation deprived from this event, you fortunately are free from anything mortifying in los iluminados. however, leon doesn't seem to understand when to take a hint.

"uh... you can put me down now." you come out of your memory to thrash in his grasp and avoid his intense gaze, but your prince charming seems to still be caught in his y/n-filled daze.

after a few long seconds, your comment seems to finally reach his brain. "huh?" his response is faint and you almost don't hear it.

you repeat yourself and begrudgingly, leon then slowly puts you back onto your feet, savoring the last few seconds spent with you in his arms. exactly where you belong. you can only fear how much more suffocating affection you'll have to endure before you can finally remember what happened that night.

i think someone legit needs to slap me across the face and bring me back into reality cause holy shit...... i went WAYY too far with this. my brain is a mess thank u for reading.

i have more thoughts about this........ just incase u were curious........ ;)

#resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #yandere leon kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #venus’ brain #moonfairy

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astonmartinii · 1 year

Note

could you make something about seb or Daniel with pregnant reader !!!

ric number three | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x pregnant!reader

in which in his time off ric number three is introduced to the world, much to the surprise of everyone else

scottyjames31 added to their story

[caption: god these people are insufferable]

redbullracing

liked by scottyjames31, maxverstappen1 and 531,299 others

tagged: danielricciardo

redbullracing: throwback to this iconic day five years ago today when danny ric got his redemption in monaco ✨

view all 82,309 comments

user57 so admin also misses danny ric as much as us

user90 admin saw danny was trending after scotty's story and knew they had to take advantage

maxverstappen1 so we're all here cause we miss daniel?

user12 max is just like us for real

user5 i don't want to be delusional but i hope daniel and y/n are pregnant

yourbff added to their story

[caption: when your bestie has a husband who will literally do anything for them >>>]

redbullracing

liked by christianhorner, maxverstappen1 and 779,556 others

tagged: danielricciardo

redbullracing: war is over, danny ric is back in the red bull garage this weekend!

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user44 I'VE PRAYED FOR TIMES LIKE THIS

user31 did daniel bring a new nephew?

user30 he was defo with a kid but i don't think he has any new nephews ?

maxverstappen1 reunited and it feels so good 😊

user10 someone tell me that's not danny's kid ???

danielricciardo

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tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo: i'm back ... and ric 3 has a whole new meaning! y/n has given me the biggest honour in the world of being a father to our son joey maximilian ricciardo, she was unbelievably brave the entire time, i am so in awe of her xx

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maxverstappen1 CONGRATULATIONS !!!! i can't wait to meet my god son and i'm so touched that you decided to name him after me xx

landonorris congrats you two !! (max isn't lying he's been crying all morning)

maxverstappen1 don't bully me !! i had to keep it to myself for so long and it all came out at once

danielricciardo awwww maxy, he can't wait to see you tomorrow

christianhorner congratulations daniel and y/n, can't wait to meet the little one xx - christian, geri and the kids

user31 only daniel would name his kid after a baby kangaroo and max verstappen

yourusername can't let daniel take the fall here, yes joey is an awful pun from us but also a play on dan's dad's name, and max is basically our overgrown kid so it was only fair

charles_leclerc omg congrats, there's a ferrari overall waiting for him in the garage

yourusername sorry sharl but joey is red bull through and through

maxverstappen1 TAKE THAT

yourusername

liked by schecoperez, danielricciardo and 550,789 others

yourusername: joey's garage debut

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user19 oh my god joey is so cute

maxverstappen1 my lucky charm

danielricciardo you win every race but joey will take it

redbullracing can we have you guys every weekend?

christianhorner was lovely seeing you all

schecoperez junior wants another play date asap

danielricciardo added to their story

[caption: farm time before we return to monaco]

maxverstappen1 added to their story

[caption: behind the scenes of the daniel.jpg account]

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 1,209,673 others

tagged: danielricciardo

f1: breaking: daniel ricciardo to return to f1 with red bull, filling the second seat from 2024! the honey badger is back 🦡

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user46 BEST NEWS EVER

maxverstappen1 maxiel reunion and joey in the garage every weekend - christmas came early

danielricciardo can't wait to get back into it !!

redbullracing we ❤️ the honey badger

yourusername ricciardos on tour - proud of you honey

yourusername

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yourusername: wouldn't change it for the world

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danielricciardo i love you so much and wouldn't be able to do it without you

yourusername you're the best thing to ever happen to me

danielricciardo no you're the best thing to ever happen to me

maxverstappen1 why didn't you include any pictures of your 25 year old son?

yourusername sorry maxy, i'll make double turkey sandwiches next race

maxverstappen1 thank yewwww

user11 i love how they don't even deny max being their kid now

landonorris what are the odds joey can come chill with uncle lando at mclaren this weekend

danielricciardo no can do buddy, you'll be coming to us, joey is precious cargo

danielricciardo

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danielricciardo: best way to end the first half of the season 🏆 and no better feeling than my wife and baby joey being there to cheer me on all the way xx

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user99 danny ric is well and truly back omg

yourusername congrats darling, we're so proud of you

danielricciardo i love you both so so much

redbullracing let's go honey badger 💪

maxverstappen1 joey is my new favourite podium partner

danielricciardo aye don't forget about the original

user40 this family is the cutest thing in the world

note: thanks for the request, hope this was the kinda thing you were looking for <3

#f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo instagram au #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo

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goldustwomun · 24 days

Text

pacifier (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter! reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. plus, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, cocky sirius and like kind of an annoying younger sister reader (but also that's literally me lol), bad transitions between light hearted banter and angst but i'm trying my best RIP, i imagine sirius to be mid-20s and reader only 3/4 years younger (but everyone is OF AGE), mommy issues if you squint

wc: 5.4k+

note: soooo i'm back :D again :D i'm almost done with second year and actually somewhat ahead with all my papers (with very minimal finals; def recommend being a history major x) and i've just been missing the community so enjoy this! i had this first chapter posted a while back (like maybe a year) but it was actually ass so i've redone it a little :)))) as always, reblogs and comments are MUCH appreciated and i can't wait to interact w/ y'all over this because i have been DAYDREAMING about brother's bf sirius :')

“What do you mean he’s working at the shop as well?!” you screeched, chasing your Mother around the kitchen, feeling a lot like the pesky youngest child you were.

“He needs some help so we offered to give him a job. Honestly sweetheart, aren’t you too old for this childish feud?”

“Too old? Shouldn’t you be saying that to him? He’s like– thirty or something, and still continues to be the bane of my existence. Fucking Bla–”

Your Mother whirled on you abruptly, brandishing the wooden spoon she was about to stir the boiling pot with right in your face. “Language, missy! I would tell him the same thing, but unluckily for you, you’re my daughter and currently living under my roof, so you get to hear it first.” She gave you a saccharine sweet smile, the kind that had you biting back the urge to stomp your feet and pout at her until she gave in. Unfortunately for you, that hadn’t worked since you were about six years old.

“--now, he’s been gone for such a long time, and we’re all very excited to see him, so don’t ruin this reunion with any more of your tantrums.”

You opened your mouth, intent on not letting the argument die there, but your Father bounded into the kitchen at the same moment, ruffling up your hair with a “Hey there, kiddo,” before promptly moving on to snake his hands around your Mother’s waist. “Looking as beautiful as always, my dear,” he cooed into her ear. She let out an uncharacteristic giggle that had you bolting from the kitchen before you were scarred any further.

Your parents’ tooth-aching affections for each other were just that: sweet, but sickly all the same. Deep down, you knew you yearned for a romance like theirs, something genuine but passionate, able to withstand the test of time (and your ever-dwindling patience). James, your older brother, had found it with Lily, their son Harry being a product of their young but no less intense love.

And you loved that kid like he was your own. Would beg James to let you come over, play with the babbling toddler for a few hours, would even offer up your weekends, encouraging the young couple to “go out, live a little!”. But they were about as infatuated with their own child as you were, and had a never-ending supply of friends who were equally as eager to help out.

Speaking of, one of those eager friends was currently pounding his stupid fist against your stupid front door, and you were already riled up from the news that you couldn’t take seeing his face physically in front of you, as well.

You shoved past James, knocking him back a step as his hand reached for the door to let his best mate in. You caught a glimpse of him on the doorstep, the first in almost two years– hair unruly like he’d just rolled out of bed, long, black strands; newly tanned skin blushing under the heat of the sun; those thick, brooding eyebrows that raised up in your direction – eughh.

“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” James called at your retreating figure, shouting loud enough to be heard over your heavy footsteps despite the carpeted floor.

“Ask your best mate over there!” you answered back with a bite, slamming your room door shut.

“Fuck,” he sighed, defeated, yanking his confused friend in and a chucking a thumb towards the stairs. “How’ve you managed to piss her off before you even got here?” he asked incredulously. “Peace– we had peace in this house for the past two years since you’ve been off travelling, and now look–! It’s a bloody riot!”

“Oi– I’ve done nothing,” he moaned indignantly, hanging his coat and scarf on the gold-crested hooks by the door. “--I think,” he added for good measure after a beat.

He never understood why the two of you struggled to get along. You’d grown up together, spent every waking moment in each other’s presence when he was at the Potter residence (which happened to be just about always given his own family situation). In theory, he should be like some sort of older brother figure– someone to loan out advice and shoulders to cry on and all that jazz.

But no. Something about you and your irritatingly know-it-all personality, or shrill voice when indignant (which was rather often around him), or your need to always be right – something about you made it so he just had to tease you endlessly until you were yelling, voice all pitchy, nostrils flared, breath heavy and face blotchy. When things would begin to die down, he’d find something else to point out, argue back, hit the nail on your specific head– something to really push you that little bit over the edge.

It was a little too fun to not try to get a rise out of you every time you were together. And as much as Sirius was aware that the jabs each of you threw had gotten a little more out of hand and a little less appropriate for your relationship– he just couldn’t stop.

The rest of the Potter family didn’t share your sentiments about Sirius, and rather adored him immeasurably. Had since he’d taken to hiding out in their house after a particularly brutal fight at home when he was only eleven. Heck, he’d even attended every Potter-family gathering, dinner, birthday, you name it, since then. It was why he came over every Sunday for a roast, pudding and some chat – he could never put into words what your family had done for him, the safety, security, home, even, they'd given him when he’d been lost and entirely clueless of what a real family looked like.

So he made the thirty-minute drive, every Sunday, much to your irritation. He plastered on the biggest smile for your Mum, complimenting every minute detail of the meal she cooked for the family, drank a glass of whiskey and smoked a cigar with your Dad; he was even Harry’s favourite, always humming quiet melodies into the youngest Potter’s ear.

With him travelling the world for the past almost-two-years, he’d missed out on the family time he usually looked forward to every weekend. Mondays seemed a lot less dreadful after having a belly-full of Mrs Potter’s food. Still, he’d sent postcards and printed pictures of everywhere he went, the sights he’d seen, people he’d met. It wasn’t the same, not without the lot of you to pester him (maybe you especially) but he’d needed some time to find himself.

He still wasn’t sure if he’d found what he was looking for, but the money had to have run out eventually so he was back home, ready to work and settle down in his life for once after graduating Hogwarts.

Sirius followed James into the living room where he found Lily, sipping on a glass of red, sitting by the empty fireplace. Instead, a window had been cracked in to let the temperate wind in.

She perked up as they entered, waving with that soul-wrenching smile of hers that could persuade even the most strong-willed of men into submission.

“Pads, you’re back!” she called from her seat. "And you've grown a moustache-- interesting choice of facial hair." Sirius, however, raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, ignoring her greeting-slash-judgement as he peered into the empty crib by her side, even going as far as to search under it as if the toddler might have escaped.

“Harry’s gone to bed in the guest room. There was a bit of a shouting match before you arrived,” James explained, sinking into the space beside his wife and pulling her into his side. “Actually, now that I think about it, there was a lot of shouting after you arrived as well!”

Lily snorted, snuggling into her husband without hesitation, and Sirius couldn’t help but avert his eyes, feeling entirely like he was imposing on an intimate moment as the two of them whispered in the other’s ear.

“Well, don’t mind me. Sitting here, all by my lonesome, no company or polite chatter to partake in, not even my dashing god son to entertain me” he sighed, dramatically, to no one in particular. James rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, chucking a frilly throw-pillow at his face (that’s what they’re for, right?) which he just as easily caught.

“Har-Har! Ever the clown, Paddy,” James mocked, flipping him off just in time for his Mum to walk in and see.

“James! Don’t aim such crude displays at my son,” she scolded, wrapping her wrinkled arms around Sirius’ shoulders from behind his chair. She leaned down, kissing the top of his head affectionately. Sirius only whimpered in agreement, leaning into her motherly touch and whining on and on about how James was being a right bully.

“My sweet child, I’ve missed you!” She beamed down at him, and that longing Sirius sometimes felt for his own Mother’s approval, her devotion or fondness, it lessened.

“But you didn’t– He was just!-- You missed– arghh!” James groaned defeatedly, head flailed back to rest against the sofa, receiving no sympathies from his giggling wife and glaring Mother. “I’m starting to understand why she hates you.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed at that– did you really hate him? Had it gotten to that point?

At the mention of your name but current absence, Mrs Potter ordered, “Go call your sister for dinner, I’ve set the table.”

He began to protest, failing to come up with a half-decent reason why he can’t walk up the two flights of stairs and pull your petulant frame from your bed– but Sirius interrupted in time, before James could make any more of a fool himself in front of his own Mother. “I’ll go get her. Got to figure out what I did this time,” he offered coolly.

Euphemia, that is, Mrs Potter, had a strict no-apparting rule in her house, had lost too many expensive vases from James and Sirius’ apparition-sprees the second they’d turned seventeen. You already had your licence, having been of legal age for some time, and had, since graduating (top of the class, as you tended to point out, much to your Ravenclaw friends’ dismay) from Hogwarts, found a job at a school in the muggle world, teaching children English Literature in preparation of some exam. O Levels, you’d called them.

Sirius thought it to be some sort of torture device - these O Levels – but you’d smacked him across the head in admonishment with the book in your hand – you were always carrying one, though he designated them to be a weapon, at least when in your possession – before he could say much else. Having a family-run bookshop made it so that the books, or the weapons, really, were in endless supply for you, much to Sirius’ chagrin.

Your love for reading had come from him, your Father, from when he’d stay up till the late hours of the night, hushed whispers under your bed sheet so your Mother wouldn’t hear, as he read you the Classics in animated voices that had you completely enchanted. He made sparks fly from the tip of his wand, bright colours that your little eyes couldn’t quite get enough of.

You loved being a wizard, were eternally grateful for the world you lived in and the undeniable awe of it all. But words, books, literature – they were enough magic for you, took you to places you could only ever dream to visit, and had you feeling such all-consuming emotions that sometimes, you wondered if you’d ever make it to the end of the page, or chapter, or book.

“Oi– your Mum’s put out dinner, she’s calling you downstairs,” he called through the thick wood of your door.

Sirius didn’t know why he was nervous. It was you, the little girl he’d watched grow up and had grown up with. But if the short glance he’d gotten of your stomping person as you huffed up the stairs was any indicated, you were by no means little anymore.

Funny what a few years can do to a person, huh.

He nudged it open when you didn’t respond, only to find you slumped across your bed, glaring, silently, at the ceiling and the pale-orange light emanating from the lamp on your bedside table.

You certainly looked different– older, possibly? He couldn’t quite place what had changed, only that he knew something had. In the way you dressed, styled your hair, held yourself. Even the look of your room– no longer plastered in butterflies and pink roses, but instead painted a burnt umber and with tapestries and muggle band posters hanging across every wall. A stack of vinyls were shoved into one side of your room, along with piles and piles of books, some old and missing a few pages, while others were untouched.

You heard the door click open, sitting up on your elbows to see a smirking Sirius, oozing an annoying amount of confidence, and leaning against your doorframe.

Something in your chest stumbled almost immediately. He looked the same, behaved the same as well. Still the Sirius that had left to see the world, leaving the rest of you behind. Though, he might’ve managed to actually tan, now that you really looked at him, imagining the broad planes of his shoulders, hidden by a thin linen button up, were more sun-kissed than milky-pale now.

Except you refused to even entertain the thought. You were not thinking of him or his skin or his bare chest or--

“What’s with the face?” you asked, already knowing you’ll regret the answer.

“Was that meant to be a greeting?” His eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Hi Sirius-- what’s with the face?” you answered, again, between clenched teeth.

“Nice pair of panties you got on there, bright pink, are they?” he nodded at your thighs, only just clocking that maybe having your legs spread so far apart when you’re wearing a skirt wasn’t the best idea.

Your thighs snapped shut just as Sirius was snickering behind his fist. “So, dinner?” he asked again, stepping into your room and letting the door shut behind him.

“Go to hell.”

“See, that sounds a little inconvenient, and a lot hot– humidity isn’t great for the hair, or skin. Anyway, I’ve just been around the world and found no place called Hell so not sure what to say, little Potter.” You hadn’t missed his sarcastic rambles, even though you were already struggling to hide the smile taking over your face as you looked anywhere but at him. “I tried, I really did, just for you.”

Your stomach dipped at that, a wave pulling you under-- for you.

“Buuuut– you know what I absolutely adore? Your mother’s cooking, and I haven’t had it in a while, so up ya’ get,” he insisted, tugging you up by your forearms until you were pressed against his front, not a sliver of space between the two of you.

Your breath caught in your throat. You could feel him everywhere. Hot skin against your bare arms, the itchy wool of his jumper, if you concentrated a little more, the hard expanse of his chest against yours. He must have felt it too because he released you like you were fire and he a mere mortal, brows pinching in confusion and something else, looking at you like you were a question he couldn’t quite find the answer to.

It was entirely foreign, the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach– it surely hadn’t been there before he’d left. You looked, or gawked, more like, at the very man you detested with every ounce of your being, but also the very man you were about to spend almost every hour of every day, for the rest of the Summer, with.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, as if realising the same thing as you now that you were stood in front of him. Suddenly, he understood what the whole shouting match must have been about, and up until a few moments ago, he might have disagreed with you entirely.

Now, though? He wasn’t sure what he felt.

“Ditto,” you breathed back. You pushed past him after staring for a second too long, hurrying on socked feet to the dining room downstairs, and not bothering to check if he was following.

The quiet jingle of the bell tickled your ears as you opened the door to the bookshop, dust immediately invading your senses as you fought back a harsh cough. Your Dad pushed in front of you, forcing the door to stay open by propping a stack of intimidatingly large books in front of it. You laughed silently to yourself, noting how they were all Dickens (he hated Dickens, said his novels were disturbingly boring and unnecessarily detailed).

You could only agree, never having had the courage to pick up any of those enormous beasts yourself.

“So, you can dust a little, and sweep the floor, before we open. Count the money in the till, as well, that’s very important,” he noted off, and you suddenly wish you had a pen and a pad of paper to write it all down. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been helping out at the shop since when you were younger, but this was the first time you’d been granted the responsibility of having it all to yourself (minus the inconvenience that was Sirius Black).

You were an adult now (barely, but that was a technicality)– loved to point it out any chance you got, and it meant that your Dad trusted you enough to not hover over your shoulder every time you took a shift. He was working fewer hours, though now, none, as he wanted to finish the novel he’d been writing for the past decade after melodramatically announcing at the dinner table that “It’s time!”

You weren’t sure what that exactly meant, but you weren’t about to argue with the man paying you an overly generous ten pounds an hour.

You didn’t need the money for yourself, what with still living at your parent’s house, but you wanted to contribute to the house and expenses and what no, even if it was a minuscule sum.

“Another thing,” he added, stopping, rather abruptly, in front of you, voice worryingly grave as he placed his large palms over either of your shoulders. “Please,” he begged, brows dipping, “don’t fight with Sirius in front of the customers.”

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already after me,” you objected, pulling back from his usually comforting hold and pulling the broom out from behind the counter. His hands fell defeatedly against his sides as he sighed, standing in your way before you could mope yourself into a tizzy before the work day had even started.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he ensured, pulling you in for a tight embrace. “You know you’re my number one, sweetheart. Just don’t like seeing you so upset.”

James always teased you for being your Father’s favourite, and you’d never argue, relishing in his pointed fingers and sneering words, because it was true– there was something between you and your Father, an understanding that no one else had clued in on. He eased your worries like no one else could, smoothed irked creases across your face, replacing them with belly-hurting laughter lines and a grin so wide, you were worried it would fall off your face.

Anyway, James was the same with your Mum. You found her difficult to communicate with, what with her being as hot-heated as you were, so as much as you and your Dad got along, you butted heads with your Mum just as much. “It’s ‘cause you two are so similar, like twins, I tell you!” But it did little to calm your nerves around her, or stoke the flames of anger you so often felt.

You were about to respond, ready to tell your Dad just how much you loved him, when someone crashed through the door, slamming into the counter you were standing behind. You turned, eyes connecting with your (late) colleague. He looked utterly windswept, as if he’d run – or been chased – the whole way there.

“You okay, son?” your Dad asked, worry shifting from you to the panting, bent-over Sirius.

“Me? Oh– peachy, just– peachy,” he answered between heavy breaths, waving off his doting hands. “Sorry I’m late, got a little carried away with something and lost track of time.”

You were conscious of how your Dad didn’t offer Sirius the same advice, to not pick a fight or argue or whatever it was the two of you did, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he had everyone charmed. So you busied yourself behind the till, doing as you were instructed and counting the money, writing down the number of each of the bills on a notepad you pulled from the drawer at your waist.

Your Dad left soon after, turning the closed sign out front to open as he wished you, and Sirius, good luck.

“Guess it’s just the two of us, little Potter,” Sirius pointed out, already sounding bored as he fell into a stool at your side. He leaned his head against his arm, stretching it from side to side as he groaned at his tense muscles.

You didn’t mean to stare, swore it wasn’t something you’d let become a habit, but your gaze immediately travelled to the exposed skin of his neck, zeroing in on the trail of newly-formed purple bruises down the side. You snorted, shaking your head at him, slamming the money compartment shut a little too aggressively so that it caught Sirius’ attention. He recognised your expression to be something close to amusement, jabbing you in your side until you were scowling and slapping his fingers away.

“What’s wrong with you– you’re acting like a fucking child,” you admonished, moving out of reach and resting a hand on your hip.

“Why’d you make that face?” he asked instead of answering your question, nodding at you like it was you who had started it.

“It’s nothing,” you went with, hearing your Father’s words echoing in your mind from just moments ago. You needed to diffuse the situation before you really got mad, because past that point, you weren’t responsible for what you said– or did.

So you ventured into the aisles of books, a curious Sirius on your heels, following you like a lost, yapping puppy. “If it’s nothing then why are you running away?” he pushed back.

You ignored him pointedly, stopping to stack a few books and dust along the shelves. No one had come in yet, still too early in the morning for any tourists to stumble upon your admittedly quaint but bursting shop.

The sunlight barely filtered past the dense collection of books and mahogany shelves that lined the walls, but the windows stretched to the tall ceilings, and if you went up the spiralling staircase at the centre of the store, you’d find yourself in a cosy loft space, bathed in gold and stuffed with arm chairs and sofas for people to sit and read in.

It was your favourite part of the store, and you were seriously debating hiding up there on your first day, just to get away from the walking-plague that followed you.

“Come on– tell me,” he whined, standing too close for your liking. You side-stepped away, brushing a cloth against the worn covers of the Mystery section. He followed suit, returning to his previous position, and this time, you had no way out with the wall of books you’d met.

You turned, facing him and finally acknowledged his presence. “You lied,” you stated matter-of-factly, loving that you actually had the upper-hand with him. As much as you prided yourself with being quick-witted, Sirius always seemed to find a way to stay on-top.

“Gonna have to give me something more than that, darling. Lied about what?” he countered, raising an eyebrow at you.

It took everything in you to ignore the pet name, something more endearing hidden under it that you had never noticed before, and those pesky butterflies returned to bug about in your gut.

Fucking moths, you groaned internally.

“You said you were busy and lost track of time. But those bites across your neck say otherwise,” you stared pointedly at the affected area now, though it was covered by his hair in this position. His hand flew to his neck, as if only just realising they were on display.

“That’s none of your business Potter,” he countered, now irritated and still trying to hide the hickies on his neck with only his palm.

“It actually is my business when you’re both late to your job and lying to my Father,” you threw back, shoving forward and relishing in his slight stumble back– as if he hadn’t yet noticed the two of you were so so close.

“You can’t–” his eyes were wide, worried, as he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to meet his gaze, “You can’t tell him. He’ll be so disappointed and I can’t–”

Now it was your turn to frown over the devastation so wrought over his face. And if you two were anyone else, you might’ve let it go. Might’ve–

“Well tough shit, Black. You’re an adult, now. This is the real world we’re talking about. Not whatever fantasy you’ve been away in for the past two years. And here, in the real world–” you gestured around yourself, “--actions have consequences. You slutting it up on the night before your first day at your new job isn’t much of an excuse, now is it?”

And really, you deserved it, now that you thought back. His anger was reasonable and your need to poke straight through his ribcage, wrap your fist around his heart and squeeze tight, was not.

“Oh, fuck you, Potter!” he bit out. “You’re accusing me of not acting like an adult when you literally still live at home! Not to mention you can’t have a decent conversation with anyone without throwing the most childish temper tantrum known to man. I might be slutting it up, as you’ve put it, but at least I’m getting some,” he was breathing hard now, and the more he spoke the more the anger burned away, but his words wouldn’t stop. In fact, you think you could see him cringe, in pain or guilt or some nervous tick, as he delivered the final blow.

“Maybe if you weren’t so miserable to be around all the time, someone might actually give it to you too.”

It didn’t take long for you to react. Nor did it take long for your hand to fly up and connect with his cheek, hard and final. He wasn’t even surprised, had seen it coming a mile way, maybe even from his first “fuck you”. Because he knew he deserved it and he remembered now why he had left two years ago. Sure, it wasn’t all you. There’d been others who had irked him to the point of wanting a fresh start. And even then, it wasn’t that you were one of those people– you just would get him so riled up, to the point where he could no longer trust the words coming out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered then, fighting the urge to look away from your glassy stare. “I’m sorry, Potter. You know I don’t mean it.”

And deep down inside, you did know. You knew you both brought out the worst in each other. Only, you could never figure out why that was. Why you wanted to hurl insults and slap him silly for every comment or look or stupid way he’d string together the most perfect sentence and his irritating eyes and mouth and–

“Excuse me? Is anyone here?”

You inhaled, all sudden, as if only just realising what you had done (or what you had thought). You brushed past him without a word, needing, more than ever, to put some space between the two of you. If not for your anger then for whatever pesky emotion was seeping through your cracks.

You were (reluctantly) pulled from wherever your thoughts had been racing to as you called into the store, “Just one moment!”

You didn’t see it, not then – too focused on keeping one foot in front of the other as you made your way back, escaping to the front of the shop, faking a polite smile as you greeted the awaiting customer– but Sirius collapsed, defeated, into the wall the moment you walked away.

Something was telling him that if he hadn’t just torn your heart to shreds with a string of insults then he might have done it some other way– some other way that might have left him in trouble with James, Lily and your parents for an entirely different set of reasons.

‘Cause Jesus Christ– he wanted to be the one to give you what you needed. Or rather, he needed to, desperately. And two years away hadn’t altered the line between the two of you from enemies to something more.

And Sirius truly debated if this was the moment for him to get back onto a train to anywhere you were not. It didn’t matter if he had no money or nowhere to be, but if it meant he could avoid killing you with words or kissing your face off– he couldn’t quite see a way out of his predicament.

James would kill him. As would your parents. And Lily– God, you prayed Lily never found out. She’d serve his head up on a platter and laugh while she did it. She was awfully protective of you, always on your side when you bickered with him. If anything, you loved her even more for it, having always noticed how you frowned a little deeper, detached a little more from yourself, whenever your parents favoured him in an argument.

“Sirius!” you shouted again, no longer faking your emotions but rather genuinely just exasperated by him once more.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” He managed to not get lost in the labyrinth of books, and found you by the travel section, chatting good-naturedly with a blonde in a tight dress.

“How can I help, doll?” he asked the blonde in question. His one tactic for almost every conundrum he’d ended up in was avoidance. And bloody hell was he good at it.

He smiled at her, the customer, doing little to hide his admiration for the legs she had on display. She flushed a pretty pink, averting her gaze, lip between her teeth. Bingo!

“Christ, you’re disgusting,” you muttered, mouth pouting and quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Only for you, sweetheart, only for you,” he bit back, not wanting the currently oblivious customer clue in on their conversation. “So, how can I help?”

“She needs that book–” you pointed to the top shelf, well out of reach. “--the green spine that says Amsterdam, but I can’t reach it and the step ladder is too heavy.”

“Alas! Only ever needed for my body, it seems,” he moaned with an irritating amount of flourish.

“Whatever it takes to get the book down– do what you must, Black.” You patted his chest reassuringly, taking your spot, once again, behind the cash register.

“So– planning a trip are you?” Sirius asked in between excessive displays of strength as he hauled the bulky ladder with a single hand. You glared at the girl as she swooned at him, wanting, rather unreasonably, for her to combust right where she stood.

But that was a ridiculous thought to begin with. You could barely stand to be even within a metre’s distance of the guy, let alone on the receiving end of his affections. You were tired, emotional and dehydrated. Must be. Though a glance at the clock had you realising it had barely been an hour since your day had started.

So, maybe just emotional and dehydrated.

“I’m going to get a coffee from across the street,” you announced, slugging your tote bag onto your shoulder as you walked past the preoccupied pair. Not waiting for a response, you stepped out into the early morning sun, frowning, for once, at the glare in your eyes and not the irritant you’d left behind.

It was easier to refer to him as something pesky, infectious, fungus-like even, rather than the only person who knew how to break your heart (and despite your somewhat impenetrable facade, you let him do just that every time).

please please PLEASE reblog & leave some feedback <3 i'll boop you if you do x

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x f!reader #sirius black fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #sirius black angst #sirius black smut #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n

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deadsnothere · 8 months

Text

Gunslinger Girl!

Synopsis - After getting a call from Garp, Alias made her way to the Baratie for a nice bite to eat and a long needed reunion.

Part 2

WARNINGS!! - READER HAS A NAME!!

Request - no, not taking them sorry.

Word count - 2.8k

Speak Ali! - Both parts together make 5,340 words, this Fic has literally taken up my brain.

Monkey D. Luffy.

Garp was a cheeky bastard.

I, Alias Foreman, Swore to be on Monkey D. Luffy's pirate crew when we both turned sixteen and fled to the sea together. I had a dream of becoming one of the most versatile people known to man. I want to learn as much as I can, to cook, to clean, to navigate boats and ships, anything you can teach me I will try my hardest to understand and learn. Now I'm not saying that I want to be the best at everything, there will always be people better. But I want to at least understand the basics of as much as possible. But for all of my life I've been known as a Gunslinger.

I'm ‘The Cheshire Cat’. Cool name with a stupid job. I hate being a Warlord of the Sea, it's the stupidest job on this side of the east blue, and they wouldn't even give me a proper crew. Just a few bumbling idiots who don't know what being a pirate really means.

Luffy always understood what being a pirate meant. I remember watching Garp train him day in and day out. Parts of me understand why Garp was so hard on him, I mean people say he takes after Gold Roger. Imagine your grandson taking after someone you helped execute. I don't think I'd be fond of it either. I’ve never thought Garp nor Luffy were wrong for what they want but, I think one knows what he's doing and the other doesn't.

It's always quite bothersome when halfway through my delicious dinner, I get interrupted by a soggy mean fishman running in here and trying to take my table for dinner. If he had waited a few minutes I would've gladly given it up, I just wanted to finish my meal. But the inpatient idiot just had to have it now.

“I'm afraid there are no more tables.” Arlong and two of his crew members were walking down the stairs of the Baratie. They’re bodies are still wet and leaving water as they walk, which is just plain disrespectful. “I see a bunch of tables.” I couldn't help but roll my eyes, to think I would have a peaceful dinner, just hopeful dreaming. People started to whisper and get up from their tables but I stayed in my seat, intending to finish the nice meal served to me. Plus it's not as if they got far, Arlong was yelling at them as soon as he got to the middle of the staircase. “Sit down!” he yelled in his degrading, chalkboard scratching voice. I continued to cut my steak in pieces to eat, they over cooked it a bit but a fine job was done anyways. Seasoned almost perfectly. A little too much oregano, but I'm just too picky with my food. Arlong went around as if he owned the place. “No one leaves.”

He looked at me with malice in his smile. “Except you.” His webbed hand went to grab the collar of my shirt but I stopped it with my own, barely even looking back. “I only have a bite or two left, I'll give it up when I'm done.” I took another drink from my wine and let go of his hand, continuing on with my meal. I could tell it pissed him off from the way he growled close to my ear. A stupid amount of spit landing on my dinner plate and shoulder. I shivered in disgust and stood up from my table. “You know what- take it.” I grabbed my plate and wine and stood up, leaving the small round table for the fishmen to sit at. I felt bad not eating the steak so I got a to-go box from the reservations desk and put it in there to give to someone later. Deciding that maybe i'll get a nice drink from the bar instead.

I was a wine kind of gal so I got a nice glass of Merlot, it was tasty. Had lots of flavor, some of which I enjoyed and some I didn't. I was enjoying the peace. I always knew it wouldn't last long but god was i sad when it was over. “Which one of you is Arlong?” Oh shit. I knew his voice anywhere, the voice I was sent for by his grandfather, the voice of a new age. I got a refill on my wine, and bought the whole bottle while I was at it, due to the lingering feeling that this wasn't going to look pretty.

When I got back into the restaurant I decided to just rest a little under the staircase, hidden by the shadows hopefully. Seeing Luffy again made me nervous. Something about it..something about how he’d be even a little bit different. When I assessed the situation in front of me it confused me a bit. I could hear that Arlong was yelling from the bar but he's an idiot so I tuned it out and tried to enjoy the bit of ‘quiet’ I had. Arlong has an older gentleman by his shirt collar, while Luffy was halfway down the main staircase. He had two men behind him, one named Usopp the other Sanji. I heard about them both, one from a customer here and the other, from a bartender. “So this is the pirate I've heard so much about.” Arlong was starting to circle around some of the tables, pacing I guess. “You know, I was expecting someone… bigger.”

Sounds like my cue. I came out of the shady area setting the wine glass and bottle on the table and grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a pocket in my shorts, picking the lucky one and placing it in my mouth delicately. “Tell me about it..I've had someone in my ear all day. ‘Find that dumbass.’ I have a headache at this point.” I laughed and leant on the chair. Luffy looks away from Arlong for a millisecond, to look at me but I don't think it registered in his brain. He couldn't have forgotten me. Luffy spoke, in his normal, nonchalant, Luffy way. “So was I.” I was puffing from my cigarette as I laughed. The snicker making smoke pour out of my nose. That got Luffy's attention. His head snapped to look at me, his eyes didn’t leave me, it looked like he was inspecting every part of my body. Probably looking for the one sign it was me. The small skull shaped scar just above my left knee. I wore shorts today just so he would see it.

His eyes were as wide as the plates they were using to serve that delicious soup I had for an appetizer. “ALIAS?!-” internally I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Externally, all I could do was smile. Luffy had a bright smile on his cheeks and I couldn't help but smile back. It was a smile I yearned for, for so long. I knew with even a bit of it, I was going to be addicted again.

I could see how excited luffy was that I was here (which made me VERY happy), but Arlong being himself did not like that attention wasn't on him for those few seconds so he cleared his throat obnoxiously. “Do you know who I am, boy?” Luffy's attention went to him but came right back when I spoke up. “Arlong the Saw.” There was a moment of silence, I taped the ash away from my cigarette into an empty glass off the table of people in front of me, and took another drag from it. “And just who are you-” - “I’m The Cheshire Cat.” I undid two of the buttons on my button up shirt with one hand, letting my collar fall back to show off the cat like scratches that laid on my collar bone (If those cats were lions that scratched almost all the way down my torso and arm). I did a stupid little bow. A few people reacted but I enjoyed the way Luffy looked so wowed. Arlongs eyes widened but they just went right back to a dumb smug smile. “You, Arlong, go for 20 million berrys.” I took another drag, exhaling calmly. “Which is impressive for the east blue but..Not so much other places.” He laughed from his chest, his friends going along with it. “What does the sell out have to say about it?” I sighed softly.

A part of me wished I was a sell out, instead of a kidnapped child forced to do the government's dirty work. The other part knew I would never do that, knew I would never betray my own crew like that. “Oh nothing honestly, I don't care about you.” I looked over to Luffy who still had a smile on his face. When we made eye contact he started to beam. I've only visited him once since I became a warlord, it makes me happy to see him so full of joy just from a moment of eye contact with me. “I'm here for him.” Luffy's hands started to shake, it was something small he always did around me. Blurted it out one day, said when I was excited sometimes I gave him a look, a glint in my eye that made him so happy his entire body shook. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever said to me. Arlong growled once again, leaving spit in someone's food. Those poor people.

He was circling the tables to get to me, circling around me slowly as if I was fish bait he was waiting to snap on. “Well I was here first.” I thought about correcting him, telling him that I was in fact here first. But Luffy interrupted the thought anyway. “How’d you find me anyway?” Luffy sounded completely confident in himself, Arlong just let out another horrid chuckle and made his way back to where he originally stood. “Old friend helped me track you down.” At first Luffy looked over to me, but I was drinking a sip of wine, just listening to what was happening in front of me. Arlong clicked his tongue and one of the other fish men grabbed the clown pirate's head out of a bag. “Heya, Straw hat. Did you miss me?” Luffy looked extremely confused, Sanji looked exhausted and Usopp looked terrified. “Burpy?” The name he called him almost made me spit out my wine from laughter (Which made Luffy happy, I could tell because he glanced at me. Even just for a second.) “What are you doing here?”

The fact that there was only a clown head confused and disturbed me, but I looked past it. “Believe me, it wasn't my first choice either.” He looked a bit nervous as he spoke. “But these fine fishy folk persuaded me to point them in the right direction, which ain't easy when you don't have any hands!” The joke made me raise my eyebrows and laugh a bit, it was funny i'll give him that. But Luffy still looked confused. “How’d you even know where to find me?” Suddenly the clown had the most serious expression I've ever seen him in. “I told you, I've got eyes and ears everywhere.” I noticed an ear start to climb out of the red band of Luffys hat. It was quite strange. The ear went back to the clown and popped right back in place, laughing. Luffy took the hat off his head inspecting it, while the two men behind him shared a look. “Stereo!” Luffy looked shocked. “You were listening all along? You heard everything?” The clown was quite happy. “Everything! and that old quick. 'Cause you shi-diots have no idea what you're doing.” The mashup word made me giggle a bit, it sounded so stupid, but it was kinda funny. (But luffy frowned a bit when he saw I laughed so i stopped as quick as i started).

The clown's head jumped towards the fishman with the huge lips. “Hey lips? How about a scratch behind the old ear, huh?” That made me roll my eyes, he was stupid enough to ask his captors that? The fishmen put him back in the bag. Buggy complaining about how sandy and wet it was.

“Listen here. I want my map.” It was so stupid. Watching them fight over the map to the entrance to the grand line, I understand why Luffy wanted it, but Arlong has a giant crew of thieves who could easily take it from another marine base. “Along with half of whatever you plunder as tribute.” Tribute? for getting a map, does he want tribute for his own existence now? “And if you bow down to me, I might even let you serve in my kingdom.” Stupid men. All of them were the same. Well not all, but most were extremely similar. “I don't bow down to any man.” Luffy stood tall, his head held up high as usual. That's my boy. “I'm no man.” Luffy continued. “Or fish.” That made Arlong growl and made me laugh. “And you’re no king.” There was a certain feeling in the air, the aggression that at any moment, one or the other would attack. Everyone was on high alert, my wine made that hard. It was just so delicate. Hard to enjoy in this environment but perfect in others.

“I will be, when I get my grand line map.” Luffy just smiled, which was a little bit attractive. “Then” He placed his hat back on his head. “You’re gonna have to fight me for it.” I take the attractive comment back, he's stupid. “Then let the fighting begin.” A bullet bounced off the fishmans skin. My hands almost drew closer to my own guns but instead I decided to pour another glass of wine. The old man that cooked my food was standing with a gun in his hand, the trigger pulled in his fingers clutches.

The thing about fishmen (I had learned the hard way) is that regular bullets don't affect them. I have very special bullets, made from some weird unmeltable ice, something about them coming from a town inside the grand line called drum town, from the deepest parts of frozen lakes. They're so sharp they even pierce fishman skin but don't go as deep as I would like.

Arlong turned to the old man, one of his crew members kicking him away and down before punching him into a pillar. Sanji called out his name and ran over, jumping on the table and kicking the fishman in the face. Which just pissed him off more. He got a few good kicks to the face and arms, even the legs but Luffy distracted him. “Really good fighter.” By the time he went to do a quite nice spinning kick to the face again, he caught his foot in his arm. I reached for both guns in my holsters, Checking that they had the correct bullets and shot multiple rounds from Alice, all of them making a trail up his arm and letting Sanji get away. The fishman looked back at me, anger and confusion in his eyes. “These bullets are made of ice, so sharp they even pierce fishman skin. I got them specially made.” There was a delicate smile on my lips, blowing the smoke out of my mouth and away from my guns. Normally i wouldn't touch these but i had a feeling about bringing them today, i'm glad i did. they may be expensive but Luffy was worth it anyways.

Everything was happening so quickly, Luffy's gum gum pistol, Arlong grabbing and pulling him closer. “Uh-” I could tell there was panic in his voice, but I couldn't tell if helping would really be helping at all. He was thrown at a pillar, landing on the floor with a thud. “Get up!” Arlong yelled, if i was him i would've stayed on the floor in spite, but he got up regardless. He kept stretching his arms three punches, one to each shoulder and one to the face. “Not bad for a human.”

I lifted my pistol to shoot Arlong but luffy put his hand up, his middle and ring finger were intertwined and the other three fingers touched. That was our sign when we were kids to stay out of it. It was our secret signal, not even Ace or Sabo or Dadan knew what it meant. I lowered my pistol, spinning it and putting it back in its holster. I grabbed the wine bottle taking a nice big gulp. Glad i’d gotten the entire bottle because this in fact, was not going to be pretty.

Part 2!!

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neomujinjja · 2 months

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Come Back Safe

Pairing: Park Chanyoung x reader

Genre: imagine, reunion, fluff(?)

Warning: not edited, pre sweet home events, reference to enlistment, vague mention of celebrity treatment during enlistment, mentions of guns, cursing, crying

Synopsis: You and your boyfriend were only supposed to part for a little while for his enlistment. But with the outbreak, you're not even sure of his status. And yet, the world works in mysterious ways.

Note: Because it felt too soon/too close to home to write this for woodz. But hey! sweet home 💃; also jinyoung is insane in the left picture 😵‍💫. I don't know when Chanyoung is said to be enlisted but I assumed it would be some months before the events of Sweet Home S1 happen.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Are you sure you're okay with waiting for me?" Chanyoung asked as he set his bags down. The two of you had just became exclusive; you had been on dates with one another but only decided on your relationship recently.

"Yes, you just focus on getting back to me safely" you told him with a nod and smile. You were scared for him, that he'd be treated badly due to his celebrity status or become hurt at some point during his enlistment. Chanyoung hummed before pulling you into a hug.

"I will be. Promise me that you'll keep yourself safe as well" he said before pecking whatever he could reach. You hit him on the shoulder and laughed.

"What the worse that could happen to me in the civilian world?"

"Just promise me. It'll make me feel at ease."

"Okay. I promise~" You pulled away to place your pinky finger between you. The baseball star snickered as he interlocked his into yours. He pressed a kiss onto your lips with a smile.

"Seal it with a kiss" Chanyoung whispered before pulling entirely away from you. You stood in a slight stupor at his actions, that was insanely smooth. You complained at him, explaining he shouldn't tease you before leaving for roughly two years. The enlisted male only laughed, playfully grabbing your hands to fight you off. The two of you struggling against the other whilst your stomaches began to ache from the fits of laughter. Chanyoung relaxed his arms, allowing you to lean in close to his chest, the two of you successfully out of breath. "Okay, I've really got to get going" he panted as he released your arms and sat to put his boots on properly. You watched as he did so, continuing until he had all of his bags gathered up and was opening the door.

"Be safe, I mean it" you told him, leaning onto the door frame. You knew that it was just bad timing and there was nothing you could do, but you wished you didn't have to be separated from your boyfriend so early on. Chanyoung saluted with a smile before blowing a kiss and heading down your apartment complex hallway. The two of you decided that it'd be best for you not to send him off at the gate to avoid dealing with the news tabloids; meaning this would be the last time you'd see him until his break or a visit.

'Shit!' you cursed in your mind. You had thought that moving early in the morning would prevent you from meeting others. You were especially trying to avoid soldiers, the civilians were bad enough, you didn't need to deal with people with gun access. Hiding behind a pillar, you thought about what your next move would be. The sound of voices caught your attention, you whipped your head in the direction it came from. Listening in to their conversation, you let out a sigh of relief at the their addressing. Watching the two males on the balcony, you decided to head inside the building anyway; any medicine you could get your hands on would do some good in the long run making it worth the risk.

'Fuck' you cursed in your head once again. You hadn't seen the tray behind you; and of course, your elbow bumped it causing it to crash to the floor. You turned your head in the door's direction, praying silently that no one would come to check it out. Though it would be a death sentence to not a noise out in recent events.

"I thought the building was empty?" a female voice asked.

"I'm not sure. Stay here, I'll check" a male voice responded. You heard the female scoff at his words but she didn't make anymore verbal protest. The room you managed to sneak and ransack was barren of any hiding spots. Running a hand through your hair, you closed your eyes with no choice but to accept whatever fate that came. "Who are you?" the male asked.

"Human" was the only thing you said as you opened your eyes again. You were left shocked by the person standing in the doorway. Standing there was Chanyoung pointing a weapon in your face. Your boyfriend was alive, seemingly safe and sound, with a gun trained on you.

"Y/N?"

"Chanyoung?"

The two of you spoke at the same time. The former baseball player lowered his weapon, staring at your figure in similar shock.

"Where have you been this whole time?" Chanyoung exclaimed as he practically threw the gun to the side. You said nothing as he strides closer to you. "Are you okay? Have you been safe?" the male asked. Chanyoung grabbed you, checking over what he could see for any visible injuries. He pulled you into a hug when he didn't find any, his right hand caressing your hair. You brought your hands up, lightly setting them onto the male's lower back. You began shaking as you released tears, one's of relief and frustration. "What's wrong?" Chanyoung panicked as he tried to pull away but you held onto his clothing.

"You're safe. You came back safe, you kept our promise" you whispered in between your sniffles. You ignored your boyfriend's coos as you buried yourself deeper into his arms.

#sweet home 2 #sweet home chanyoung #park chanyoung #sweet home x reader #sweet home imagines #sweet home 2 imagines #park chanyoung x reader #b1a4 #b1a4 jinyoung #jinyoung x reader #jinyoung imagine #b1a4 jinyoung imagine #kdrama imagine #kdrama x reader #kdrama x poc reader

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bedsyandco · 4 months

Text

ABOUT DAMN TIME - VIOLET & LUKE

❥ — ꒰ pairing ꒱ violet + luke hughes

❥ — ꒰ synopsis ꒱in which Violet and Luke tell those closest to them they're together!!

❥ — ꒰ content ꒱ fluff. maybe some swear words

❥ — ꒰ note ꒱ can't believe we haven't talked about this sooner!! thanks to the nonnie who suggested it!! I loved writing luke and violet from other people's perspectives

⌕ | jack (last few days of regular season)

Would find out first since he's the one who flew her to Jersey!! He comes back to the apartment a few hours later and finds them cuddled up on the couch together. He desperately studies both of their expressions trying to guess how their reunion went but nothing is really out of the ordinary. Luke has that content little smile on his face he always has when he's in Violet's presence and Violet has that little glint in her eye when she looks at him like he's hung the moon.

"hey," Luke says as he takes a seat on the couch they're not occupying and Jack just stares at them, waiting for them to say something, anything, but both of them simply turn their attention back to the TV.

"Are you hungry babe?" Luke asks, kissing Violet on the cheek before her reaches for his phone, probably to order something.

"A little," Violet replies and Jack releases an annoyed breath.

"Are you two together now?" Jack asks abruptly and both of them look at him.

"I just kissed her and called her babe. That's not enough to tell you we're together now?" Luke asks and Jack just stares at him dumbfounded for a moment because Jack can't even remember how many times Luke has called Violet babe and kissed her over the past seven years.

"Yes, we're together now," Violet says, linking her fingers with Luke's as they exchange big grins.

"Thank fuck. Only took you about seven years," Jack says and Luke throws him with a pillow, but Jack just looks at them with a fond smile on his face.

⌕ | quinn // ellen + jim (2023 new jersey playoffs)

Violet and Luke were sitting closely together at a table in the New Jersey box, along with Ellen, Jim, and Quinn, all of them waiting for them game to start.

"Think they're gonna play you soon?" Quinn asks Luke and he shrugs, running his hand through Violet's hair.

"I don't know. It's the playoffs. Don't know if they want a rookie out there," Luke mumbles

"They'd be stupid not to use you, they haven't been playing very great anyway. A change would be good," Violet says smiling optimistically up at him and he can't help but lower his head and connect their lips in a soft kiss. All eyes shoot to Ellen when a gasp leaves her mouth.

"Oh my God. You kissed! Jim they kissed. You kissed," she directs that last sentence almost accusingly at Luke and Violet.

"What? I'm not allowed to kiss my girlfriend?" Luke asks cheekily and Ellen gasps again as Quinn chuckles.

"Damn," Quinn says grinning widely, knocking his shoulder into Violet's.

"You guys are finally together?" Ellen asks, grabbing Violet's hands that lie on the table and squeezing them tightly, smiling lovingly at her and Violet nods.

"It's about damn time," Jim says sending Violet a wink and they all laugh.

⌕ | dylan, mark, ethan (summer '23)

"you know, since Luke moved out, we have the extra room in the house..." Mark says wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and Violet laughs at him, shaking her head.

"Stop flirting with my girlfriend Estapa," Luke yells from the kitchen and Dylan jumps up so quickly he knocks over the chair he was sitting on.

"He said girlfriend. Are you his girlfriend?!" Dylan yells and Violet laughs nodding at him.

"How long?" Ethan asks frowning as Luke comes back into the living room with drinks.

"Only a few weeks now..." Luke answers and Dylan pouts a little, picking up his chair.

"And you guys didn't tell me? I've been suffering through your mutual obliviousness for years," Dylan says and Violet has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing at how genuinely upset he looks.

"We wanted to wait to tell you in person Dukes," Luke says softly and his friend contemplates a few minutes before grinning, jumping and attacking Luke in a big hug.

"You're dating her!" Dylan says, a little bit of disbelief in his tone.

"I know," Luke replies, in the same tone, thinking back to how many times he's gushed about his feelings for Violet to his best friend.

"Congrats guys," Ethan says tapping Luke on the back and giving her a quick hug.

"Well it's about time, I was about to steal your girl," Mark says and Violet laughs. It's a bit of a running joke they have to call Mark "Mr. Steal your girl" for how often he accidentally flirts with a teammates girlfriend.

As Violet takes a seat on her boyfriend's lap she can't help but agree. It's about damn time.

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ violet + luke ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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axcel-lucci · 5 months

Note

I've been coughing and feeling sick, I don't feel like getting up. This one is a request where female reader gets sick, has a flu, and its set in modern au. How would Law react when he hears that female reader has a flu for about two weeks, while being taken care of by Luffy, Ace, and Sabo? See female reader didn't want to disturb Law from work, so the ASL trio took care of her. Sabo is more responsible than his brothers. Plus Luffy would bring Marco to check on reader.😊🤧😷🤒

Tell me next time, dumbass.

Trafalgar Law x reader (fluff)

A/N: hi! Sorry I took a bit long because I was kinda down myself (can't get out of bed for reasons unknown) and can barely open my phone. So I hope this is alright! (Also unedited)

My masterlist

Coming up with a fever wasn't really (y/n)'s perfect idea of winter. What she imagined was snowball fights, snowman making, snow angels. Maybe that's the reason she's sick.

She could've told her boyfriend, Trafalgar Law, that is also a doctor, about it so he could take care of her, but she didn't.

She would always listen to him rant about how hectic it is to work in hospital owned by "grandline" whatever whatever it's name was. And she didn't want to bother him by a simple fever.

But that's alright, she has his best friends to help.

The "strawhats" (what Luffy likes to call his gang of friends) would visit from time to time. Especially chopper. Robin's support dog, specialising in anxiety and depression.

Even though the golden retriever is working, he couldn't help but stay beside (y/n) whenever Robin is around to visit.

Nami would usually just lay beside her staring at the ceiling. Mostly because she herself was bored.

While the others would drop by but not as often because they're quite busy.

Luffy on the other hand, would visit with his brother's almost every day.

Ace and Sabo apparently has doctor friends as well. One is named Marco and the other is named... Hongo? Was it?

"In theory, Marco said some warm soup or porridge would help you." Ace said

"In YOUR theory or in this... Marco person's theory?" (Y/n) asked. She knew it would help but hearing Ace say such a thing concerns her

"Wat?"

"What...?"

The two just stared at each other with confusion before sighing.

"You're making me hurt my brain, Ace. Get out of here" she groaned with a frown making him laugh.

"When are you planning to tell your boyfriend that you're sick? I'm sure he's worried because you're not calling him all the time like you used to." Sabi hums softly as he hands (y/n) a bowl of warm porridge as she starts to eat

"You know I don't want to worry him..." She muttered as she ate

"Eh? What do you mean?" Luffy tilts his head, "he asks about you all the time whenever he sees me."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah! When I said Marco was also helping, he kinda got up and left. I don't know why though..." Luffy muttered to himself with a pout.

"Luffy..." The three sighed with a bit of disappointment in their face

"What? What?"

"Let me take that..." Sabo said as he took the empty bowl from (y/n), "how do you feel...?"

"I'm feeling fine... I suppose..." She muttered slightly.

"Alright..." Ace sighed, "look. You should tell him, even if you're bothering him... I'm sure if I was your boyfr- I mean him, I'd also want to know my girlfriend's state."

She laughed a bit, "I know... I'll tell him eventually..."

"We need to go... I have night shift at work today and some agendas for the next... 2 weeks..." Sabo frowned slightly

"And Garp's coming over... As well as the family reunion in London..." Ace huffed, "will you be alright alone?"

"I'll be fine, don't you worry"

Oh the last words of someone burning up, phasing in and out of consciousness.

(Y/n) reached out to grab her phone, trembling hands scroll through her contacts list, her eyes blurry but eventually clicking one profile and calling it.

Putting it on speaker, and placing it beside her head.

Once she heard the familiar sound of someone on the other end picking up, she coughed slightly.

"Can you... Come over...? I don't feel so good..." She managed to mutter before passing out entirely. All she heard last was a panicked voice of her name being called and soon hanging up.

...

Law's pov

I was sitting at the on-call room, basically glaring at my phone screen, waiting for (y/n) to message me.

"If you stared any harder, that phone would crack" Marco chuckled beside me.

I just groaned a little, "tsk. You wouldn't know the worry I have for my girlfriend because you never had one." I snapped at him with a glare

"Ouch" he rolled his eyes.

My eyes snapped back at my phone once I heard it ring and seeing who was calling, my whole body seemed to relax to realize it was (y/n). After almost three days of silence from her, she finally called.

"Hello?" I answered.

I heard her cough, which wasn't a good sign already, her heavy breathing as well. "Can you... Come over...? I don't feel so good..." she muttered so weakly, I don't think I've ever heard her so weak before hearing her just huff out a heavy breath, I don't know why, but I had a feeling she had passed out.

"(Y/n)...? (Y/n)!" I called but had no more answer than her breathing heavily.

I stood up immediately and grabbed my stuff, changing out of my scrubs as well as I panicked.

"Woah there loverboy, you can't just leave in the middle of your shift" Hongo sighed, "but you know what? I'll take your shift, don't worry. Take care of your girlfriend"

I just gave him a swift nod before leaving and hopping into my car, wasting no time to power it up and drive off to her apartment.

I left my things inside the car, but took my wallet, phone, and the spare keys I had of her apartment with me as I rushed to go and unlock her apartment door.

At first glance, it was relatively quiet. Which wasn't entirely unusual considering at this time of day, she's either drawing or just laying in bed.

After locking the door, I threw my things on the kitchen counter and rushed to her bedroom to see her curled on her bed, her phone beside her head, and her face flush with what seemed to be a high rising fever.

I didn't waste any time and rushed to check her temperature. She was already so hot to the touch, but she started shivering a little.

"Don't worry, I'm here. I'll take care of you" I whispered to her before getting up and doing what is necessary to make her fever go down.

Eventually, her fever had subsided just enough so that her temperature was 39°.

Which was still a bit too high as a human's normal body temperature was 37° but at least a bit lower and manageable than before

"Silly girl..." I frowned as I kissed her forehead.

I continued to take care of her for the next 2 days. Hongo-ya and Marco-ya volunteering to cover my shift.

I'll need to find a way to repay them somehow, but for now, my focus is on (y/n) and her slow recovery.

(Y/n)'s pov

(Y/n) slowly woke up to the smell of what seems to be an aromatic scent of... Soup? Porridge? Whatever it is, it smells delicious.

But oddly enough, she doesn't have an appetite.

The door to her bedroom eventually opened and closed quietly as she then saw, through her thick eyelashes that were blurred with some tears, that Law was now in her apartment.

She could see relief in his actions when he placed down whatever he was doing and sat beside her on the bed, placing a hand on her cheek and wiping away the tears that managed to escape while she slept.

"You're finally awake..." His warm voice calls softly and kissed her forehead, "why didn't you tell me you were sick? I could've been here for you..."

"I... It's just that... You're really busy and... I don't want to..." She muttered before being silenced with a soft hush.

"Enough of that, didn't I tell you already that if you need me, just call...?" He frowned a bit before shaking his head, "we can talk about it once you're better. For now, sit up. I'm helping you eat."

With his help, she was able to sit up with her back against the headboard.

"Ahh" Law said after blowing the steam off a spoonful of soup, "I need you to eat even just a few bites so that you can drink some medicine. Okay...?"

She sighed as she forced herself to eat, she can't taste anything but her gut told her it was delicious.

"Blackleg-ya insisted for me to make you this soup... I hope it's alright" he says as he fed her a couple more times before she refused any more.

"Alright... Wait here and I'll grab some medicine."

She nods weakly as he left, but came back almost immediately with a glass of water and medicine in hand.

"Here..." He says as she drank the medicine and water, "that's my girl..." He smiled softly before kissing her cheek.

"Law..."

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you... For taking care of me all this time..." She smiled softly at him as well.

"Nonsense... This is the bare minimum. I promise, I'll take good care of you in the future. Just call me up and I'll be here. No matter how busy I am." He placed a hand over hers, "I want to kiss you on the lips but I'm afraid I might get infected. But I will kiss you once you're all better."

"I'm looking forward to that..." She said weakly with a tender smile.

"Now, get well soon alright? I'll be here." He smiled, "oh, and one thing... You should've told me, dumbass... I don't care how busy I am or whatever time is. I'll defy all odds just to be here for you."

"That's my boy..." She smiled as he chuckled.

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nolita-fairytale · 8 months

Note

hi gen! hope this finds you well!!!! and hope i’m not late to the party… but i’ve been thinking about luca having a long distance relationship. and since most of the time chefs have cooking as an act of care, could you think of hc for luca in this situation?

@translatemunson thanks for sending this one in.

dating chef luca long distance: a headcanon

dating chef luca long distance would look like:

while luca works early most mornings, the two of you make sure to keep in touch. texts, voice memos, phone calls and facetimes when you can because he wants to connect with you as often as possible.

luca is always sending you tiktoks/instagram reels once he's off work -- things he thinks you might enjoy. you love to send pics back and forth: things you're doing, a great meal you had, a selfie when you have something funny to tell him or just when you miss him.

luca does not have read receipts and neither do you because truly, read receipts are unhinged and just make everyone involved anxious. (not me coming for read receipts, oops)

you try to physically see each other every 1 - 3 months, depending on where you're located, at least until your make it to your long distance end date. hear me out: i think that luca is going to move to you. "there will always be work for me as a chef, babe. and i want to be with you."

the week before a scheduled trip, it feels like time can't move any faster. you normally don't have too much trouble with distance, aside from missing him, but that week leading up to always feels agonous.

speaking of, leading up to a trip, luca busies himself with planning out menus, things he wants to make you, places he wants to take you, knowing that food is such a strong love language for the both of you.

the moment you reunite is always so sweet. in some ways, you don't mind the distance because it always feels so exciting when you see him for the first time after a few weeks to months apart. and can we talk about the reunion sex?! it is hot, hot, hot and it's the first thing the both of you want to do when you're reunited. (fully projecting here because i once had a long distance relationship and that ways always the first thing we did).

when you're not together... i don't think you and luca are big sexters... per say... but the man will indulge in phone sex when the mood strikes. just picture it. that deep voice over the phone telling you to touch yourself?! asking you how it feels? moaning with the phone on speaker while you tell him how much you need him?! how you can't wait to be together, jfc.

every day with him feels special, whether it be luca making you breakfast in bed or the two of you just doing nothing together, watching movies, cooking something together. he makes the most mundane of things feel like magic because the man has your heart.

somedays are harder than others, and you feel like you're missing out -- when his hair is longer, when he finds a new cafe that's become routine for him but is something you're only just finding out about -- and it makes your heart ache for the day that you get to live in the same city together.

long distance is hard, but you and luca make it as easy as possible by being kickass communicators and by meeting each other halfway. on the days it feels harder than others, you hold space for each other, recognizing that, while normally you feel good about it... you really fucking miss each other.

i know i wrote this in burn your life down but i stand by it: luca is a letter writer. perhaps after a particular tough day where you're missing the hell out of him, luca decides to surprise you by sending you some snail mail. you receive it a few days to a week later (depending on where you are in the world) and the care and love he poured into this surprise reminds you that it's all worth it.

this song and these lyrics make me think of dating luca long distance, so i will leave us on this note:

"so, can we strip down to our vitals? i'm obsessed with your design and I've missed your soul forever" -- superbloodmoon, holly humberstone & d4vid

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #nolita fairytale's follower celebration #nolita fairytale’s follower celebration

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allmcl · 4 months

Note

hi!! do you also write for armin (separately)? ive been craving some armin content for a while and i found your account, your writing is so amazing, and i was wondering if you'd write something where candy and armin arent back together yet in UL and, after a night in the snake room with alexy, rosa, priya and the others, armin decides to fight for her love not knowing he doesn't need to fight for it since she's head over heels for him

STILL HERE │ Armin Keenan.

When a reunion with an old love reminds Armin of everything they experienced together, he decides that after so much time, it's now or never that he should get you back.

pairing('s). armin keenan x f!reader

genre. fluff, angsty.

content wanings. mentions of breakup, alcohol consuming, cursing, kissing, suggestive themes.

author's note. MISSED THIS BOY SO MUCH DURING UL, hope you like this!! (tysm for requesting, sorry it took so long!) AND BTW, i found like a lot of lastnames and i decided for this one (not sure if is the canon one ://)

I was sure that my return to the city would be harder. After all, I couldn't blame anyone for being angry with me. If one of my friends just left, without even saying goodbye, I wouldn't be happy either. But, luckily for me, they had a much better reaction than I expected.

At the moment, I only saw Rosa and Melody. Although perhaps I didn't know how to show it at the time, having seen them after so long squeezed my heart so much that I still feel my emotions on the surface.

To tell the truth, I'm scared. Although I used to seeing eachother very often in high school, whether to go out for a drink or just to walk around the city, this is not high school anymore. And it's now, when I'm getting ready to go out, that I feel like I'm getting ready in my old room to go shopping with the them. The phone vibrates, and brings me out of my melancholic thoughts.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, the screen glows with a notification from Alex.

Alex…

I refrain from further worries and simply read it from the preview.

"[Y/NNN]??? we are waiting for youuuu"

"Years waiting to see you, and you still late🙄"

I smiled wistfully. I know he says it jokingly, but the guilt is real. But that's not important now, because it's once and for all my time to fix that, and to get back on track with my life here. I type a quick, “on my way,” before pocketing my phone and heading out the door to my campus room. Although the phone rings again, I don't bother checking it and I hurry to arrive on time.

I look at the time on the screen: "11:48." I curse under my breath. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I'm lost, and that even though I've been wandering around on the same street for more than twenty minutes, I still can´t find the bar. On the other hand, who would think of inviting someone to a place and not sending the address?

When I start to stress again, I recognize a voice in the distance that I would recognize anywhere. It's Alex. I follow the sound, although I don't pay attention to what it says, none of it matters when I see it. His eyes light up and he falls silent immediately. As I expected, he almost hugged me to the ground. Rosa also briefly joined our hug, smiling as she watched us interact.

"Finally!" He screeches in my ear, and although it dazes me a little I laugh out loud. "I missed you like crazy…" He whispered to me, and I had to separate myself for a moment to not burst out crying in my place.

"I missed you, Alex.." I sighed, but he seemed to notice my mood, changing the subject slighlty.

"You´re back, all that matters." He jokes, and I smile. "I hope you're ready for the surprise then."

I raise an eyebrow. "Surprise?"

"Yes, I told you by text." He emphasized obviously, gesturing towards his phone.

Of course, the text I didn't read. I nod briefly, so he thinks I know what he's talking about. Their surprises honestly scare me. They can go from something exciting to something illegal, you never know what to expect from these two. I'm nervous yes, I assume the "surprise" is inside.

"It's not bad at all." Rosa calms me down, she seems to read my mind sometimes. "I promise you'll be happy"

Well, now I'm scared.

Alexy wastes no time in cutting off the conversation, and Rosa simply presses her hand on my back lovingly, urging me to enter the disco-bar, "Snake Room." This was definitely not there when I lived here. Well, most of the things I see now didn't used to be there. Upon entering I immediately notice the loud music, the smoke and the smell of alcohol, the lights blur my vision a little, and it is difficult for me to discern where Alex is.

Rosa guides me a little to the table near the bar, which seems to be one of the quietest places in the place. But that's when the colored lights hanging near the stage allow me to catch a glimpse of him.

"I thought it would be nice for you to see each other again." Alex says, trying to calm the tension in the air.

My breath stops for a few moments. I don't know how to feel, but my body responds on its own. I'm shaking a little, and at this point I don't know if it's the flashing lights or their presence that's making me dizzy. I can barely move to get close to greet him. He changed a lot. Of course his essence is still there, I can tell, but it's definitely different.

"Welcome back." His voice is also different, deeper I could say. It throws me off a little. Well, all of him does. I curse myself internally. I was convinced I was ready for this, but I see I'm not.

I smile at him reflexively, and sit down across from him. The silence feels quite loud now that I feel his gaze on me, even though I avoid making eye contact. Rosa clears her throat, and gestures indiscreetly at Alex. I would laugh, if it weren't for the fact that this whole situation has me totally overwhelmed. I look at him for a few seconds, but he was already looking at me. God, I don't know if I can handle this.

"I imagined you´d be happier…" He smiled with amusement, and I couldn't help but feel my heart skip a beat at his expression. He looks boyish, in a strange way. It's as if for a moment, his expression took me back to high school Armin.

"I'm surprised, that's all." I laugh nervously.

"Well, he came all the way here just to see you." Alexy clarifies, but Rosa waves him off with a glare.

I look at him with my eyes slightly open. "You´re not living here?" The question escapes me before I can think about it.

"Not quite." He clarifies, and takes a sip of beer. It's now that my throat feels a little dry, but I don't feel like drinking alcohol. I could end up doing things i´ll regret. "Although now that you're back, I'd think about it." He winks at me.

I looked to the side, and felt my cheeks burn a little. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

"I thought you were tougher." Rosa reproaches, tripping a little, but Alexy holds her steady. "Now you go to bed early and don't drink. You've become an old man." He grimaces, and a laugh escapes us.

"It's not that!" Alex complains. "I just wanted to greet [y/n] sober." He looks at me smiling, and I smile back. "I'll take care of the old drunk" Rosa exclaims a "hey!" and hits him lightly on the shoulder, but he doesn't flinch.

"Are you back on campus?" Armin asks me, and then I remember that he is, in fact, still here. He looks at me, waiting for my response but I freeze instantly. Every time he speaks I experience the same embarrassment.

"Well, I'll leave you, lovebirds." The idiot does it on purpose. But for the first time, I notice that I'm not the only one embarrassed, Armin's cheeks turn pink, and he sends a reproachful look to his twin, who smiles innocently. Some things never change, I see. "Take care of her." It sounds more like a threat than a request, to which the black-haired man rolls his eyes and nods.

I watch Alexy walk away in the opposite direction.

Silence falls between us, and it is until we see the two disappear after turning down the street that I understand that I am alone with him. I smile awkwardly at him before taking a couple steps back.

"I'll walk you back." I open my eyes a little, and look at him with surprise. He seems sure of his words, and looks at me expectantly with that smile of his that I still have to get used to. "I don't like the idea of you walking alone,"

"As much of a gentleman as I remembered." I reply, a flirtatious smile escaping me and Armin simply smiles wider. "It's close, anyway"

"I insist." His expression is confident, and well, I don't mind his company either.

With a slight nod of my head, Armin understands that I agree, so we start walking towards the campus. The silence this time is not awkward, and although we don't talk about anything, it really feels like there are an infinite number of topics to touch on. Not very pleasant topics. After all, we can't ignore that we were together, and that the break-up wasn´t the most pacific thing either.

"I was also glad to see you again." I whisper, and even though my voice sounds quiet, he hears me. He always does.

"I figured you'd be mad." He confesses, and although I don't see his face I know he's looking at me.

Deep down, yes I am. But I'm not sure if that was enough of a reason to ruin the evening and Alex's surprise. It would have been nice to have mentally prepared myself so that I wouldn't have reacted like a schoolgirl to seeing him.

"Well, it's been a long time…" I clear my throat a little. "I have my reasons to be tho."

"Yeah, but I bet you forgot all of it with how good I look." He mocks, smiling widely.

I click my tongue. "You can't use your face to change the past."

"You're right, but I can use it to change things now." A lopsided smile appears on his features, and his comment takes me by surprise.

I tense up suddenly and simply look away. I hate that probably if he tried… "You're too cocky." I complain.

Deep down, I wonder if that would bother me. It's stupid. Armin didn't care that we broke up, I really wonder what his intentions are now. But, I can't deny that the memory is still alive in me. Everything about him remains in me as if he had never left, and it bothers me that I couldn't change that in this embarrassing amount of time we were apart.

"I just feel like I'm not the only one." Armin grumbles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. Now I also notice that his style is different. It doesn't seem like his brother intervenes as much in his clothes as before, that is, he maintains a bit of his own style more than anything. More calm and informal.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I grimace, crossing my arms before looking back at him.

"I say that because I notice the way you look at me." His words make me even more angry. Sometimes I feel like there is no one who can read me like he does. It was always like this, since we were young. One expression on my face was enough for Armin to decipher what was happening to me.

"I―no.." I stuttered and he noticed it, however, he didn't continue probing and I remained silent.

The walk to campus was getting shorter, and I wasn't sure I knew how to say goodbye. Everything was so strange. It's not that I want to see him, but knowing that he was going to leave made me feel like I couldn't just leave him like that. My heart is beating fast, I feel like even he can hear it.

And although it seems like things can't get any worse, several drops falling on my hair bring me out of my frantic thoughts. The chance of rain was quite low today, but of course it has to rain anyway.

"This weather is a bit nice." Armin points out, extending his palm to feel the raindrops on it, which slowly intensify.

"Nice? I'm soaking my clothes." I grumble, trying to cover myself a little.

"On one of these days we kissed for the first time" Armin smiles to himself, and simply lowers his gaze to look me in the eyes.

Shit. I didn't expect to have to think about this again. Less now that he´s here. Of course I remember it. I invited him to eat at the restaurant where we made that ridiculous double date that I actually still remember as one of my most precious moments.

On the way back home, rain started pouring and us, like idiots, hide nder a tree until it calmed down a bit. I wouldn´t forget something as special as that.

"You have no right Armin." I feel my eyes water at the memory, but I am relieved to know that because of the rain it is not very noticeable. "You can't say that now."

"It's not easy to pretend that I don't remember anything that happened." He frowns a little and stops in the middle of the street, forcing me to do the same.

"I'm not asking you to do it but…" I stop, feeling a sudden lump in my throat.

"And you can't pretend that the same thing doesn't happen to you."

And he is right. He always is when he talks about my feelings. He is correct, of course. Since I saw him, I knew that in fact, nothing of what I felt for him had managed to dissipate over the years. My heart still belongs to him.

"I lost you once, [y/n]. I can't let you go again…" His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. "When I knew you were coming back I―…"

I interrupted him. "Do you think it's easy for me?" I raised my tone of voice slightly, the fierce rain drowning out the noise a little. "Your lack of interest tired me out, Armin. You can't come back into my life like this and expect me to throw myself into your arms like it was nothing."

"I know I did things wrong, but I can still show you that I changed!" He raised his voice too. My heart was racing, and his blue eyes looking at me like I was the only thing in the world made me feel like a teenager again. "I'm not the same one who made mistakes. The only thing that remains of me is the love I have for you, [y/n], it's the only thing I couldn't change."

Tears are streaming down my face, and I don´t think it comes unnoticed by him anymore. He sheepishly tries to dry them, but the water keeps running down.

"Look at me," Armin approached me and forced me to look at him with a gentle movement of his hand. He pressed his fingers a little on my chin. "I love you." And now, in his bright eyes, in his warm hands and in his smile that I never thought I would see again, I see the truth.

Without being able to get the words out of my mouth, frustrated, angry, I let myself go and as if my hands knew their way, they wrapped themselves around his neck and pulled him closer to me. Our breaths merge and his arms end up around my waist. We are so close I memorize every feature of his face, every new thing my eyes notice.

"Are you going to kiss me or keep making me wait?" He murmured, and to silence him once and for all I kissed him.

I felt safe, at peace. Like I've been waiting for this forever. His lips fit perfectly on mine as always, his grip tightens and I need to hold on to him as I feel my legs shake a little. It's passionate, fierce. It's not like the way he kissed me before, so innocent and clumsy.

The butterflies that I thought were dead begin to flutter in my stomach again, and the only thing that separates me from jim is the lack of air. But even though we break the kiss, Armin doesn't let me go, he keeps me close to him and brings our foreheads together.

"This time I'll make you stay." He sighs, and kisses me again to seal his promise.

©allmcl !

116 notes · View notes

f1letters · 1 year

Text

bejeweled | ln4

"and I miss you, but I miss sparkling"

summary: after a triple-header where they couldn't see each other, things got even stranger when her boyfriend seemed totally uninterested in spending time with her. so, she took matters into her own hands

warning: a little bit of angst, but fluff ending, mentions of a long-distance relationship, Lando being an uninterested boyfriend, reader feeling ignored and worthless, reader being petty, mentions of alcohol, swearing, reader trying to make Lando jealous, mentions of McLaren's bad 2022 season and Danny leaving the team (crying 😭), not proofread

pairing: lando norris x reader

word count: 2.7k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

masterlist

Baby love, I think I've been a little too kind

Didn't notice you walkin' all over my peace of mind

In the shoes I gave you as a present

Puttin' someone first only works when you're in their top five

And by the way, I'm goin' out tonight

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'

Y/N couldn't keep count of the number of times she had heard this phrase being said during the past two years.

She prayed that people were right. That distance would make their relationship stronger, their time together more special, their appreciation for each other bigger.

She hoped her heart would mend every time he came back home but in all honesty, she just felt... lonely.

From: babe

only a few more days and the torture is over, can't wait to kiss you again gorgeous, miss you 🧡

Y/N read Lando's text over and over again, daydreaming about their reunion after so long apart, as the driver had three races in a row at Spa, Zandvoort and Monza.

It didn't matter how many times Lando called or texted. How many times he expressed how much he missed her. How many times he said how excited he was to see her again.

In the end, it was exhausting spending her days simply waiting for him to be there.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band

They ask, "Do you have a man?"

I could still say, "I don't remember"

Suddenly, the jingling of keys on the other side of the door caught her attention. Y/N turned towards the entrance where she saw the image of her boyfriend appear through the darkness of the night that filled the apartment.

Quickly getting back on her feet, the girl rushed to him, hugging the boy desperate to return to her arms. His body relaxed as soon as it made contact with hers and Lando let him pull her as close to him as possible.

"Fuck," Lando whispered against his girlfriend's forehead, whose tears of relief now streamed freely down her cheeks. "I can't believe I'm finally back home."

"God, I swear it was the worst weeks ever." The girl confessed, although it was common to be apart for a long time since her work did not allow her to follow him most of the time. "I've missed you so much, Lan. So much."

Grabbing her gently by the sides of her neck, the driver looked straight into her bright, tired eyes. "Me too, baby. But now we have two weeks to ourselves."

For a moment everything fell into place. But it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down again.

Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes

I polish up real, I polish up real nice

After spending the night lying next to the boy she loved, Y/N couldn't control all the excitement she felt inside her chest.

Very early in the morning, the young woman got out of bed, leaving the sleeping man behind, and headed to the kitchen where she went all out to celebrate his first morning back in Monaco.

With the utmost care and love, she cooked just about everything: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, you name it. And as soon as everything was ready, Y/N returned to the room and jumped on top of the British man, now awake on his phone.

"Good morning, sunshine!" The girl said, as she hugged his hips and laid her head on his stomach. "I made the best breakfast ever just for you, baby. So you better be hungry."

Her laughter was quickly interrupted by the boy's surprising coolness towards her. "Good morning, but I think I'll pass. I still feel super tired from the flight, so I'm going to stay in bed a little longer." Lando set his phone back on the bedside table and, running a hand over the top of her head as an act of apology, continued. "I hope you don't mind, love. It's just for today."

It's just for today, he said.

The next day, still under the wave of happiness, Y/N tried her luck again and decided to approach her boyfriend again to make plans, now that he was already feeling more energetic and recharged.

Lando spent the morning jumping around the house, so when Y/N saw him walk back into the room, she dropped to her knees in her seat, turned around and leaned on the back of the couch.

"Lan, what if we went out to dinner at that Thai place we went to last month?" She asked, her head turning slightly as she remembered their meal. "I swear I'm still thinking about that Pad Thai."

Lando continued his way to the kitchen, opening the fridge to get some water. "Hmm, maybe another time. Don't feel like going out."

And with only a few words, he disappeared again into another room of the house.

On day 3, the girl was caught off guard when she saw her boyfriend with a backpack on his back and his hand on the doorknob.

"Hey, where are you going?" She questioned, curious.

"Just going to the gym with Carlos." He replied, eyes on the phone in his other hand.

"I thought you were tired." She blurted out. At that moment, the persistent girl decided to be direct and confront him. "Is there something wrong? You've been so distant lately."

She had barely seen him even though the two of them shared the same house. It was getting embarrassing how much she tried to engage in conversation with him, only to get rejected every single time.

The driver just spat out a string of words, including 'busy with business' and 'training', but nothing soothed the uneasiness she felt in the pit of her stomach.

Baby boy, I think I've been too good of a girl

Did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve

I think it's time to teach some lessons

I made you my world, have you heard?

I can reclaim the land

And I miss you

But I miss sparklin'

It just didn't make any sense.

What happened to the 'week to ourselves? To all the 'I miss you' and 'I can't wait to see you' he said?

It got to the point where she was even starting to question every time he told her he loved her.

A week passed, and in a last attempt, Y/N walked up to her boyfriend and placed her hands on his shoulders, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

"How about we watch a movie, cuddled a bit on the couch…?" She suggested, whispering close to his ear.

Lando placed a hand over one of his girlfriend's hands, looking back to meet her gaze. "Sorry babe, but I'm going to stream with the guys now. Maybe later."

Maybe another time. Maybe later.

She had been a little too kind and she was done playing nice.

It was time to teach him some lessons.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band

They ask, "Do you have a man?"

I could still say, "I don't remember"

Y/N entered her room and confidently walked to her closet. She knew exactly the garment she was looking for and as soon as she laid eyes on her shiny bejeweled dress, she picked it up.

Leaving the clothes she wore behind on the floor, she changed into the stunning dress and sat in front of her mirror, curling her hair and doing her makeup.

Her eyes ended up dark and smoky, perfectly adorning the determined and vengeful look on her face.

Grabbing her small Prada bag, Y/N walked to the room where Lando was already streaming, catching the driver's attention.

"Hey, I'm already live." He warned her, as he turned to see his girlfriend. Laying his eyes on his girlfriend all dressed up, a nervous shiver ran down his spine. "Where are you going looking all polished up?"

"Don't wait for me for dinner," She answered coldly, even though she knew the people in the comments were going to have a field day with this. "And by the way, I'm going out tonight."

Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes

I polish up real, I polish up real nice

As soon as she walked into the room, she made the whole place stop with the shimmer of her dress under the spotlight.

If Lando wasn't going to give her the love and attention she deserved, she sure as hell was going to give it to herself.

Y/N was finally done with letting her worth be determined by a man, even if he was supposed to be the love of her life.

Sapphire tears on my face

Sadness became my whole sky

But some guy said my aura's moonstone

Just 'cause he was high

Walking towards the bar, the young woman couldn't help noticing the eyes that fell on the fascinating and beautiful image that she was.

At that moment, although she missed him and the good times of their relationship, she was reminded of how much she missed sparkling.

Y/N ordered two tequila shots and drank them without missing a second. She now felt prepared to start the night, leaving her problems behind.

Dancing as she made her way to the middle of the floor, the girl began to sway her hips to the music, between the hot bodies glued together in the room.

Tonight was all about her.

And we're dancin' all night

And you can try to change my mind

But you might have to wait in line

What's a girl gonna do?

A diamond's gotta shine

Back home, Lando couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension and anxiety that gripped him.

As much as he tried to keep his good spirits and attention on his friends, his followers and the game, his mind was elsewhere: her.

His eyes roamed the chat as he interacted with some of his fans until one of them made his heart stop beating for a second.

teamlandofewtrell: have you guys seen Y/N photos clubbing? I smell trouble in paradise lol

The man cleared his throat, trying to maintain his posture. "Guys, I have to go now, but I'll see you very soon!"

Without further explanation, Lando grabbed his coat and the keys to his McLaren and headed towards her.

And as soon as he entered the club, he immediately found her.

The furious boy walked over to her, grabbed her arm and pulled her to a more sheltered corner, only to find her surprised and upset eyes.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" He shouted over the music, unconcerned by prying ears. "First you make me look like an idiot on stream, then I find out you're alone in a club doing who knows what. Are you all right in the head, Y/N?!"

"You're worried now, are you?" The girl laughed sarcastically. "That's fucking rich."

"You have to be fucking kidding me. It has to be." Lando ran his restless hands through his hair nervously. "All because I didn't want to see a movie with you today? That's it?"

"Today, of course. The problem is from today." She continued her ironic tone. "You know what, Lando? It's about time you realized that just because I made you my world doesn't mean I can't claim the land."

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

And when I meet the band

They ask, "Do you have a man?"

I could still say, "I don't remember"

Lando was shocked by her confrontational words, as it was a side she rarely showed.

"Stop this nonsense, Y/N." Lando snapped, gripping her arm with some force. "Let's go home now, and tomorrow we'll talk when you come to your senses."

Out of nowhere, a man approached the couple. "Hey, is everything okay here? Do you need some help, babe?" He asked her.

Y/N recognized him as the vocalist of the band that was performing when she first arrived at the scene.

"It's okay, thanks." She replied, freeing her arm from her boyfriend's hold and letting her burning eyes lay on Lando's face. "This man was about to leave."

"If you need to come with me, feel free to join, gorgeous." The singer said, looking her up and down. "Do you have a man? 'Cause if you don't, I sure could be yours for tonight."

Even though she was uninterested in the man's suggestive proposition, she couldn't pass up an opportunity to entice the driver. "I don't remember."

"She has a fucking man, now get the fuck off." Lando spoke out aggressively, having no patience left for her foolishness.

Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart

Diamonds in my eyes

I polish up real, I polish up real nice

"You have the nerve to show up here playing the role of the victim when all you did this whole week was ignore me," Y/N yelled, losing her mind. "Day after day, I made a fool of myself and tried to approach you, to make plans with you, to do the things I know you like to see if you would change your shitty attitude but nothing."

"From the second you arrived, the only thing I got from you was a cold shoulder and indifference. And honestly, I'm fed up, fed up with your behaviour when all I did was wait for you, all alone and miserable, while you fulfilled your dreams."

Lando remained glued to the ground, unable to move as he tried to assimilate all the angry words she spat in his direction.

"So if you have anything else to say to try and ruin my night, you might have to wait in line because I don't have the time to do so right now."

And we're dancin' all night

And you can try to change my mind

But you might have to wait in line

What's a girl gonna do? What's a girl gonna do?

I polish up nice

Eyes to the floor in embarrassment, the driver gently grabbed her hand. "You're right, I'm so sorry, love."

"What?" She blurted out, not believing the sudden change in him.

"You're right, I've been an absolute prick to you lately," The boy looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with regret and sorrow. "Those last three weeks weren't just bad because I was away from you. It was bad news after bad news and I just ended up taking it out on you unfairly."

"Lan, you know you can talk to me about anything." She softened and stroked his hand. "What's wrong?"

"Everything, honestly." He sighed, saddened. "The car is shit most of the time, I can't seem to get out of 7th place ever, Danny is leaving the team next season and, as if it couldn't get any worse, I spent all weekend getting asked about it like I had some power over the matter."

Y/N knew her partner was feeling especially down over losing yet again another teammate he really cared about, so Lando's anguish came as no surprise.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, really." Lando apologized again. "You didn't deserve all of this."

"Baby, I'm here for you. Always. Through thick and thin." Y/N brought her lips to his, letting her hands grip his curly hair as she leaned into his kiss. "Let's have some fun, dance a little, and make up for lost time, what do you think?"

"Lead the way, gorgeous." Lando kissed her again before she led him to the centre of the floor.

Gathered in their bubble of love again, Y/N, who once shone like a jewel, now shone like a true diamond with the light of her life reflecting on her side.

Best believe I'm still bejeweled

When I walk in the room

I can still make the whole place shimmer

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 9 months

Text

Se Zaldrizoti’ Prumia - Chapter 7: Father and Daughter (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 7: Father and Daughter

A hunt, a reunion, and a conflict. A normal day in Westeros then.

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: Nothing of note, save for parental trauma and a notable lack of Daemon shenanigans.

Word Count: 5.8k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: OH MY GOD IM ALIVE???? Yeah, it appears I am 😭 I'm so sorry about the long wait on this chapter, the past two weeks have been wild for me ever since I came back from my vacation. 1. My dad crashed his car? 2. I had like five projects due during the past two weeks and I had to write in a report and evaluation about my project groupmate who essentially did nothing 😐 if I could beat someone's ass without getting suspended, istg... 3. I've been suffering from a lot of chest pains recently, which kinda stopped me from doing my thing for a while 4. I had insane writers block for like a week and it was horrid 😖 but luckily, I'm back now, and hopefully updating more often! And also I've learnt that my classmate is following me on tumblr, I am a little mortified, but hello regardless. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 💕 no Daemon cameo unfortunately, but he'll be back next chapter, and messier than ever.

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

109 years after Aegon's Conquest

The doors to the room burst open, and you stepped in, a little out of breath. Lord Hobert Hightower and the Hand, who were standing closest to the doorway, were engrossed deep in conversation when you walked in, and you heard something along the lines of “It’s only a matter of time before Viserys names him heir.” You try not to frown at that, nodding politely to them before heading over to the crowd gathered over at the other side of the room, cooing at the heir in question: little Aegon, who was celebrating his second nameday.

“Ah, Y/N!” Viserys exclaimed happily, gesturing for you to come and stand between him and Alicent, whose face was radiant with happiness. Viserys signalled for the wet nurse to step forward, and before you knew it, little Aegon was in your arms, babbling in that toddler frenzy of his. The assemblage of lords and ladies stepped closer to you, much to your discomfort, as you forced a cheerful smile and bounced Aegon up and down in your arms, which made him squeal with delight. “I fear that Aegon might come to see you as his mother sooner or late, Y/N, given how much he adores you.” Viserys claimed. You flush at his words, and Alicent soon steps in, smiling, “Tis true. Aegon always perks up when he’s in your arms.” You were sure you would melt into a puddle if you were subject to any more of their compliments. “You flatter me, Your Graces.”

In the periphery of your vision, you saw Ser Tyland Lannister attempt to get Viserys’ attention, and you handed back a now fussing Aegon to his nursemaid. Alicent shuffled over to the feast table, and she smiled brightly as you approached. Placing a hand on her swollen belly, your heart fluttered with delight when you felt a slight kick. Though the horrors of childbirth still plagued your mind, being there for Alicent’s relatively smooth birth with Aegon had made your fears lessen a little.

“How’s the babe?” you ask. “Only active when you’re here, it seems,” Alicent laughed. “They never seem to kick for anyone else other than you. I think they will adore you as much as Aegon does.” You chuckle, stroking Alicent’s belly gently. “What if the kicking is a sign that the babe will dislike me?” Alicent patted your hand, “Definitely not. I have no doubt in my mind that you will be dear to the babe.” she said with conviction. You blush at her words, “You flatter me, Your Grace.”

“Can someone tell me where in the Seven Hells Rhaenyra might be?” Viserys’ frustrated bellow drew you and Alicent out of your tender moment. Alicent’s face twisted with worry, and you were sure your face was a mirror image of hers. “You came in later than the rest of us. Did you see Rhaenyra anywhere?” You shake your head glumly, “She wasn’t in her chambers, or her apartments.” Alicent sighed in exasperation, “Viserys has questioned nearly every courtier in the room, and not a single one of them has a clue. Where might she be?” You chewed your lip, thinking back to the snippet of conversation you had overheard between the Hand and Lord Hobert. “She’s upset right now. The two of you were…” You refrained from finishing the sentence when you saw Alicent wince. “Do you have any inkling on where she might go to cool off?” “I don’t belie-” A look of realisation dawned in Alicent’s eyes. “You know somewhere?” You ask her urgently. Alicent nodded, “I’ll go find her. You should stay and satiate yourself before the journey.” “Are you sure?” You ask her, concerned. Alicent squeezed your hand gently. “Don’t worry about me. I think I can get Rhaenyra to see reason.”

You glance pensively at Alicent’s retreating figure. Sighing, you approached the refreshments table, smiling gratefully as a servant handed you a plate with some slices of roast pork. You heard your name being called, and turned around to find Viserys. “Your Grace-” you moved to curtsy, but Viserys stopped you, “I told you, no need for such stuffy courtesies when you are with me.” You smiled wryly, “I thought it wouldn’t apply in a room full of courtiers.” Viserys waved away your words, “You are my family, Y/N. There are no such constraints within your own kin.” You smile sadly at the word ‘family’. It was a little sad to say, but you definitely did feel more of a kinship with the current members of House Targaryen over those of your own house.

“Speaking of kin,” Viserys’ voice turned serious. “I am in need of a favour from you, Y/N.” You snapped to attention. “Whatever you need, Viserys.” He sighed, looking mournful and irritated at the same time. “It has been nigh three years since I have wedded Alicent. Time after time, I have tried to approach Rhaenyra, but she shuns me away every single time. The rare chances she actually sits down and listens, she sulks like a child and only provides me with short responses.” Viserys sighed again, whatever sadness he had turning into disappointment and exasperation. “This is not the way the heir to the Iron Throne should behave.” He looked at you beseechingly, “I implore you, Y/N. I believe what Rhaenyra needs is for a motherly figure to talk to her, and persuade her to abandon such foolish antics. I fear Alicent would not be able to serve such a role, since Rhaenyra’s ire is directed at the both of us. But you,” You swallowed nervously. “I’ve seen how close Rhaenyra kept you after Aemma’s death. For months, apart from Alicent, you were her closest confidant. I know naught of what has transpired between the two of you, but I believe you to be the best person for this tiresome task. Will you do methis favour?”

Your expression was resigned, but you forced out a smile nonetheless. “But of course. I will do my best, Viserys.” He closed his eyes in relief, clapping you on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, Y/N. Thank you.” You gave a tentative smile back, painfully aware of the numerous eyes glued to the both of you. What you failed to notice, however, were the heavy gazes of Otto and Hobert Hightower on you.

An awkward silence weighed upon the royal wheelhouse as it made its way to the Kingswood. You glance uncomfortably between Viserys, Alicent, and Rhaenyra, watching with some pity as Viserys attempted to make conversation with his irascible and sullen daughter. A miniature dragon thrust in your face soon drew your attention however, and you looked down to frown admonishingly at little Aegon, who blinked his wide violet eyes at you innocently. The little devil, you were sure he was trying to garner your attention on purpose. Earlier, he had been weeping inconsolably, much to the nursemaid’s and Alicent’s distress. But when you had taken him into your arms, he had ceased his tears immediately and gave you a cherubic smile, which made Alicent give you a knowing smile and Rhaenyra to look at the both of you in disdain. The expression of disdain had yet to depart from Rhaenyra, as you played patiently with Aegon, flying his dragon miniature around him and smiling as the toddler spun his head around to follow the motions of the dragon with rapt fascination.

The tension in the wheelhouse was not lightening in the slightest bit, as Viserys began talking about Rhaenyra giving him grandchildren, of all things. You had to stop yourself from groaning in exasperation. If Viserys truly wanted to reconnect with Rhaenyra again, why was he digging himself into an even bigger hole? He should know that after Aemma, Rhaenyra would be disinclined to entertain notions of childbirth. You wanted to put your head in your hands, but Aegon poked you in the cheek.

“No one’s here for me!” Rhaenyra’s angry outburst halted all activity in the wheelhouse, including Aegon’s. You froze, looking up at Rhaenyra, but her bitter gaze was focused solely on her father. All of you endured the rest of the ride in silence.

The rocking of the wheelhouse soon came to an end. You remained seated as Viserys and Alicent stepped out to the raucous cheers of the crowd, allowing Aegon’s nursemaid to take him from your arms. You remembered Viserys’ plea, and took in Rhaenyra’s wistful expression. “Hail, hail! Aegon the Conqueror babe, Second of His Name!” You grimace when you hear the tasteless remark.

Rhaenyra’s fists were clenched at her sides, and her eyes were shut. With frustration, or with sadness, she didn’t know. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand taking her fisted hand and unclenching it. She didn’t need to open her eyes to see who it was. “I don’t need your pity.” Rhaenyra tried to sound snappy, but her voice was hoarse. You didn’t answer, instead intertwining your fingers with Rhaenyra. She reluctantly opened her eyes, only to see you directing a hostile glare to the outside commotion, as more and more voices heralded Aegon as the Second of His Name. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but smile at that, letting some of the tension seep out of her muscles.

At least there was someone in her dark and lonely corner, even if that someone’s trustworthiness had yet to be ascertained.

You were sitting next to Alicent, as she held court with the various noble ladies who had attended the hunt. You listened, silently sipping from your goblet as they conversed about the ongoing war in the Stepstones. You watched as Larys Strong and Rhaenyra soon joined in the conversation, though a slight frown of distaste was soon visible on your face, when Lady Lannister and Lady Redwyne in particular, began picking on Rhaenyra. You had to hide a smirk when Rhaenyra made a well-directed jab at Lady Redwyne, and the smirk only widened when you saw her pig-faced dog gobble greedily at the cake on her plate. How fitting.

“You know, Lady Y/N.” Your head snapped up as Lady Redwyne addressed you. She had a displeased look on her face: clearly she hadn’t missed your smirk at her expense. “I was…pleasantly surprised to hear Her Grace appointed you as her chief lady-in-waiting.” Your eyes narrowed, your dormant prickly nature coming to life once more. “It was a great honour, Lady Joselyn. One that I am greatly grateful to Her Grace for.”

Lady Redwyne gave you a smile, that you knew from all your years of court politics, was filled with ill intent. “I must say, if you were out in the battlefield fighting on the Stepstones, the war would be won by now.” You felt Alicent stiffen next to you, and you instinctively reached out to put your hand on hers. “What are you insinuating, Lady Redwyne?” Alicent’s tone was sharper than usual. Lady Redwyne attempted to school her features back to deference, but her lips were curved upwards. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I was not attempting to insinuate anything. It was a compliment to Lady Y/N.” You levelled a fierce glare at her, but she seemed unaffected, looking at you straight in the eye. “It is a well known fact that she and Prince Daemon had tempers that rivalled each other. With such willfulness, she would make a formidable opponent on the battlefield, would she not?”

You were about to deliver an equally cutting and backhanded response, but you were surprised when you heard Rhaenyra speak up once more, “Yes, Lady Redwyne. But as luck would have it, she is the Queen’s lady-in-waiting now.” Rhaenyra’s tone was acidic. “And I am certain that she will carry out her duties with skill and grace. The Queen will not be able to find someone as capable as her.”

The ladies were stunned that Rhaenyra had spoken up for you, none more so than you and Alicent. “The princess is right. Lady Y/N has been a dutiful lady-in-waiting and companion. The Seven have truly blessed me with her.” Your eyes water with gratitude, as Lady Redwyne and the other ladies fall silent after both the princess and the queen’s swift defence of you.

So this was what kinship felt like.

Night had fallen, and the air was ablaze with the smell of smoke. You had sat faithfully by Alicent all day, as she entertained lords and ladies alike. You had not seen Rhaenyra in quite some time though, and you worry about where she could have wandered off to. Your anxiety only increased tenfold when you saw Viserys’ goblet never straying from his hand, and he had been lifting it to his lips moreso after his conversations with the Hand, Jason Lannister, and Lyonel Strong, in particular. Alicent was clearly on edge as well, her brown eyes watchful as she witnessed her husband lose himself in his cups. When Viserys abruptly left the tent after a brief, yet intense conversation with Lyonel Strong, Alicent got up to go after him, but you gently pushed her back down to her seat, giving her a reassuring look. She should not need to see her husband in such a misbegotten state, while in her pregnancy, you thought to yourself, as you wrapped your shawl around you, shivering in the cold night air.

You eventually found Viserys by the huge bonfire, downing yet another goblet of wine, while being guarded by two Kingsguard. They nodded at you as you passed. You went straight to Viserys, taking the cup whilst he was distracted. “I think that’s enough for you tonight, Viserys.” Your voice was soft, yet firm. He gave you an enervated smile. “The night is cold, you shouldn’t be out here.” You hand the goblet over to a Kingsguard. “Who will look after you, then? And make sure you do not drink yourself into a stupor?” Viserys laughed heartily, before he coughed. You reach for him, concerned. He stared into the flames, looking like he wanted to step into them himself. “Y/N.” “Hmm?” Viserys took a deep breath, trying to control the slurring in his voice. “What do you think is the foundation of House Targaryen’s strength?”

You tilt your head to the side questioningly, “That is a trick question, right? Of course, the answer is House Targaryen’s dragons.” Viserys smiled ruefully, turning over to face you. You were taken aback by the blazing intensity, perhaps even madness in his eyes. “You’re wrong, Y/N. It began with a dream.” He turned back to face the fire. “When Daenys the Dreamer had the dream that prophesied the end of the Valyrian Freehold, that dream saved House Targaryen. While all the other dragonlords were destroyed, it was only us who survived.” “I know of that tale. Your grandsire told us that tale when we were younger.”

Viserys didn’t seem to hear you, however, his bleak gaze still on the fire. “In my line, many had been dragonriders. Very few among us have been dreamers. What is the power of dragons, next to the power of prophecy?” You shivered, and not because of the cold. Yet you continue listening. “When Rhaenyra was a child, I saw it in a dream. As vivid as these flames, I saw it. A male babe, born to me, wearing the Conqueror’s crown. And I so wanted it to be true, to be a dreamer myself. I sought that vision again, night after night…but it never came again. I poured all my thought and will into it. And my obsession killed Aemma.” You looked away at that, your heart wrenched with grief. “I thought Rhaenyra was the way out of my abyss of grief and regret. That naming her heir would set things right.”

“Are you saying you regret naming Rhaenyra heir then?” Viserys looked grieved. “Oftentimes, yes…I have. I worried that I had named Rhaenyra out of anger towards Daemon, not out of love, or for the good of the realm.” He moved to grip your shoulders, tears in his eyes. “Y/N, I never imagined that I would remarry. That I would have a son. What if…what if I was wrong all along?”

You stared into his despair-filled eyes. “I cannot tell you if you’re wrong, Viserys. There are only two paths ahead of you now, and as King, you must be prepared to take one, and soon.” Viserys chuckles, drooping his head. “What if I’m not sure what path I should take?” Your voice was quiet. “Then the realm will descend into chaos.”

The both of you were silent, staring at each other in the firelight. While you couldn’t say that you approved of Viserys’ decisions in the past three years, after all this, he was your friend, and he was just a mere mortal, plagued by regrets, grief, and hesitation. Just like you, and everyone else. Even kings were not infallible to weakness, you surmised. And in that moment, there was a mutual understanding and grievance shared between the both of you: the burden of choice.

The morrow brought about clear skies and sun, much to the delight of the lords partaking in the hunt. It did not alleviate your worries however, as Rhaenyra still had not returned to the encampment. You found yourself milling about today, much too tired to suffer the thinly veiled jabs the fellow noblewomen were directing at you about your infamous temper.

You were dressed in a simpler riding outfit today, to mingle around with the various smallfolk and merchants that had set up stalls in the encampment, hoping eagerly to attract some lord’s attention and earn a few gold dragons. You beamed as you sampled a rather delicious roast pork skewer, giving the stall owner - a rather plump woman - two golden dragons, much to her glee. You strode back to the main tent, feeling satisfied, when you suddenly heard the sound of hooves. You turned your head as a palomino horse skidded to a halt, and a familiar man, with more grey hairs than he had the last time you saw him, dismount from the horse and take off his riding gloves. His eyes light up as soon as he catches sight of you, and without giving you a window to escape, he strode towards you. You chew your lip in dread as he approached.

“Father.”

“Y/N.” He beams at you, his eyes crinkled at the corners. You smile awkwardly at him, fidgeting with your fingers. His smile falters a little when he notices your hesitation. “I haven’t seen you in years, daughter. Does this momentous occasion not warrant a hug?” You inwardly sigh, and reach out to embrace your father. Your father grins at you as you pull away after an awkward pause. “You have grown, daughter. You look beautiful.” “You flatter me, Father.” “Come, walk with me. We have much to talk about.” You swallowed, but followed as he set out for the forested edge of the campground.

The both of you strode in silence for a while, before you ventured to break the silence. “The King didn’t mention you would be joining us for the hunt, Father. Why the sudden change of heart?” He sighed. “Can an old man not choose to be in nature once in a while?” “Of course you can, father. I was just concerned: you are no longer in the pink of health, and riding all the way from Highgarden to the Kingswood is a gruelling journey.” Your father waved his hand dismissively. “Twas nothing. I might be getting on in my years, but I recently found a new source of reinvigoration.”

“Oh?” you cocked your head curiously. You sincerely hoped the new source of reinvigoration was not a new bid for your hand. Your father smiled, “I recently remarried to Lady Clarice of House Fossoway.” Seeing your confused look, he hurried to clarify. “Of Cider Hall.” Surprise creased your features. “But…wasn’t that Mother’s maiden house? Lady Clarice was her cousin, was she not?” Your father’s smile was beginning to look strained. “Does it matter, daughter? What matters is that I am happy with her, is it not? And I am certain she will give me strong sons soon.” You regard him with a degree of caution, noting the shift in his voice. In your years of dealing with court politics, you could instinctively tell when a situation was about to go from bad to worse. “I did not know you had any plans on remarrying after Mother’s death.”

“And whose fault is that, daughter?” Your father’s tone turned chiding. “I know you’ve been ignoring all the ravens I’ve sent to you over the past few years. Specifically, those with letters attached from me pleading for you to just find yourself a match at court or select one of the eligible lords in the lists I sent you.” You blushed, looking sheepish. Matthos sighed. “Daughter, you are no longer young. It is past time you are wed. I only want what’s best for you.”

“But-” you blurted out, “What if I don’t think getting married is what’s best for me, Father?” Your father looked askance at that. “What else could a young lady such as yourself desire other than marriage?” You bit your lip, “Father, the truth is…I do not think I have a desire to wed now…or ever.” You were beginning to get anxious as your father’s face lost some of his paternal tenderness. “Five years. I had hoped that our time apart had given you some time to reflect on your…misconceptions.” He gripped your shoulders, an intense blaze in his eyes as your heart began to thud with dread. “The matter of marriage is not one that you can dismiss so easily anymore, Y/N. It entails the survival and future of House Tyrell. You must do your duty and wed a respectable lord, for the sake of our house.” Though you had heard those words aplenty, today, it was like something uninhibited had seized control of you, as you burst out. “Why should I care about doing my duty to House Tyrell?” you snapped. “I have made it clear that it is not my intention to ever take a husband, now and in the foreseeable future. You claim this is all done for my own happiness. So why can’t you just respect my wishes?”

“Because you are not just some poxy peasant who can gallivant about as you please. You are my daughter!” You were shocked when your father suddenly raised his voice. Trepidation had dimmed your previous righteousness. He tightens his grip on your shoulders, his expression filled with an anger you had never glimpsed before. This…this was not the father you remember. The father you knew had never once raised his voice at you, always treating you with patience as his only child. Though he was prone to bouts of frustrated pleading when you did not acquiesce to his wishes to get married, he had never once shouted at you like that. Or even gripped your shoulders with such forcefulness you feared he might strike you. “You are just as useless as your late mother.” You were stunned, your eyes searing with hot tears. “Do not insult Mother like that. She was the most wonderful woman-” “Wonderful, you say?” your father snorted. “If she were so wonderful, then she would have provided me with a strong and healthy son to succeed me! Instead, she left me with a daughter who is ungrateful and strangely determined to remain a spinster all her life.” he spat out the words with such vitriol that you were taken aback. “If she were so wonderful,” your father continued with his rant. “Then would House Tyrell be in imminent danger of collapsing, all because the only heirs I have are your incompetent, doltish cousins who will run the legacy our ancestors and I have built to the ground?” He moved to clasp your hand tightly in his, looking desperate and angry all at once. “Daughter, your father is imploring you. You must get wed, and provide me with a grandson. You cannot let House Tyrell go to ruin.” You stare at him, feeling beleaguered. “Do my wishes mean nothing to you?” “This is because your wishes are obscenely unreasonable, Y/N.” your father snaps. “It is practically unheard of for a woman of your status to not wed.” “It is not!” you insisted, “I am the chief lady-in-waiting to the Queen now, I have duties I must perform. And there have been histories of lords whose daughters were largely spinsters. Moreover, you have remarried.” Your voice became desperate as you tried to make your father see reason. “Lady Clarice is young, she will give you many sons in due time. Suitable heirs to Highgarden. I do not understand why you are putting all this pressure on me.” You took a deep breath, preparing to make your final stand. “I want to enjoy the rest of my youth, Father. Not to sit in a castle, entrapped in a loveless marriage and pumping out potential heirs for my husband and for you. I want to live my life, free of constraints.” You looked at him, unshed tears in your eyes. “Please, father. This is the one thing I have ever asked of you, and that is to respect my wishes.”

Matthos was silent for a long while, and you held hope, briefly, that you might have gotten through to him with your pleading. “Foolish, insolent girl!” Your hopes were dashed as your father flung off your hand, shouting at you. “How can you be so selfish? To not take responsibility in ensuring the continuation of our house’s line?” “That is your responsibility, not mine!” you shouted back. Seeing that pleas would not get to your father now, you resorted to fighting fire with fire instead. “Had you really cared about continuing our house’s bloodline, you would’ve remarried years ago!” You could see how your shouts were drawing the attention of some courtiers, given how close the both of you were to the camp for royals. You heard the faint sound of hooves behind you, but you ignored them, too engrossed in your argument with your father. “Producing heirs is a lord’s responsibility. So if you are accusing me of not doing my duty, you should first be reprimanding yourself.”

Your father’s face grew red. “You little brat! How dare you say these things about your father!” “I spoke only the truth,” you shot back. He raised his hand, and for a moment you were afraid he was going to slap you for your outburst. Instead, he went to grip your shoulders again, “For years, I have raised you, clothed you in the finest silks, fed you, and put up with your ridiculous whims and wants! I’ve been patient, I’ve been loving and understanding when you rejected all the marriage offers you received. I’ve pleaded, and even given you the time and freedom to find a more suitable match at court. Yet you cannot even perform your duty as my daughter. No longer.” Your heart stuttered a little. “What do you mean?” Your father gave you a cold look. “I’m saying, if you do not get married by the end of the year, you are no longer my daughter.” Your eyes widen with horror. “I will effectively disown and disinherit you from House Tyrell, and if I sire any children by Lady Clarice, they shall not support you either.”

Your voice was tremulous, “Father, you…you cannot be serious. Do not let your anger cloud your judgement.” Matthos Tyrell looked at his daughter, his face one of disgust. “You wanted to enjoy your youth without constraints. And since you seem to enjoy being lady-in-waiting to the Queen so much, I’m only granting you what you wished for, am I not?”

You stepped back, feeling winded by your father’s words. However, you nearly jumped when you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “Ah, Y/N!” You were not sure whether you felt more mortified or relieved for Viserys’ timely presence. “Your Grace!” Immediately, your father’s distaste gave way to deference, as he straightened his posture and bowed before the King. You inclined your head respectfully, wondering if Viserys had overheard your conversation. “Forgive me for interrupting your conversation.” Oh, he definitely overheard.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Your Grace. I am delighted to be in your presence.” Your father gushed on profusely, as Viserys stepped toward him. You hung your head, still abashed by your father’s threats, when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder once more. Alicent smiled at you understandingly, and you grimaced when you realised she had also overheard the unpleasant exchange. Still, you shot her a grateful look for her show of support.

“I must offer you my sincerest felicitations for Prince Aegon’s second nameday, Your Grace.” Viserys laughed, “Your felicitations are greatly appreciated, Lord Matthos. I must extend you mine as well, for your recent remarriage. I see it is treating you well.” Your father beamed, “You are too kind, Your Grace. And indeed, my lady wife pleases me so. Now, the only thing that would make me the happiest man in the realm would be my daughter finally settling down with a respectable match.” You stiffened at that, something Alicent took notice of, and she offered you a sympathetic look. Viserys chuckled, “That you and I can both agree on, Lord Matthos. There is nothing more I desire right now than seeing Rhaenyra being wed to a deserving man who will treat her right.”

“Oh, I am sure Her Grace will have her pick of men. She is ‘The Realm’s Delight’, after all. Any man who weds her will be a lucky one.” Your father’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone, as he glanced at you. “Moreover, Her Grace is young, comely, and lovely to behold.” Matthos sighed, shaking his head as he chuckled, “Mine own daughter is not in possess of such qualities, I’m afraid. She is getting on with her years, and though I love her deeply, as her father, I must admit she has quite a temper on her. She's not quite the attractice match, which gives me a headache,” Matthos jested with the King, causing you to wince and look away. Alicent looked disconcerted at your father’s tasteless jesting, tightening her hold on your shoulder. However, the both of you did not notice the flare of annoyance behind Viserys’ eyes, so his next words surprised the both of you.

“Lady Y/N has been nothing but a delight to have at court, Lord Matthos. In spite of her age, I’m sure she has no shortage of suitors.” Viserys’ voice was amiable, polite, yet it carried an undertone of firmness and reprimand such that Matthos looked a little stunned, worried that he had overstepped. You looked back to the pair, your eyes wide with disbelief. “And should Y/N ever find herself unwilling to marry, the Red Keep will always welcome her. She is like family to me, after all.” Your father fell silent, and you locked eyes with Viserys, looking lost, yet appreciative all the same. Viserys gave you a reassuring smile, and you could see the sincerity behind his intent. Your eyes prickled with touched tears, but the moment was interrupted when you heard shouts across the campground, startling your party. You turned around, only to behold the sight of Rhaenyra, stained head to toe with dried blood, a commanding aura in her swagger as her sworn shield, Ser Criston, trailed behind her, along with two servants carrying a dead boar. You lock eyes with her momentarily, and she gives a small nod of acknowledgement to you, although her eyes turned cold when they looked upon her father. You heard Viserys sigh, and you saw how Viserys looked both annoyed and relieved for Rhaenyra’s safety, while your father just looked bewildered, perhaps even a little scared. Despite yourself, you smiled a little at the scene.

Alicent and you were chatting in her chambers, laughing in hushed tones as you rocked Aegon to sleep in your arms, when the Hand entered the room, requesting to speak with Alicent. You handed a sleepy Aegon to his nursemaid, before curtsying and exiting the room, painfully aware of the Hand’s weighty gaze upon you as you did.

Alicent knew that her father had not visited her out of a gesture of goodwill, and as she listened to his rather maddening reasoning that Alicent should attempt to make her husband see reason and name Aegon heir, she only stayed silent. There was no point in countering back anyway - the Hand always seemed to have a dozen other reasons to quell her opposition. She felt uncomfortable, for speaking of this was treason, and the babe shifted in her belly, causing her to sigh.

Otto observed his daughter, noting with mild exasperation that she wasn’t paying heed to anything he was saying. So, he decided to change the subject. “About your lady-in-waiting…” he began. Alicent’s head snapped up, “What do you wish to discuss of Y/N?” Otto let a smile play over his lips: it was quite evident his daughter cared for the Tyrell lady, and from his further observations over the past three years, treated her akin to a maternal figure. Which might make it easier for her to accept what he proposed next. “I overheard a rather…interesting conversation she had, with Lord Matthos today.” Alicent showed no visible reaction, but she stared at her father, feeling an all-too-familiar feeling of dread settle in her gut. “I think half the campground overheard their argument. What of it?”

Otto hummed softly, “It seems her father is worrying about her marriage. Which is a reasonable worry - she is on the cusp of her twenty fifth nameday, is she not?” Alicent nodded slowly, eyeing her father with caution. She knew him all too well, how he was tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair - he was scheming. She recalled how upset you were when you spoke with your father, citing your dreams to enjoy your youth and be freed of the constraints of marriage. In later years, she had come to both see you as a cherished companion and a parental figure of sorts, and she cared for you, deeply so. You were her only source of comfort in the Red Keep, one who did not expect or demand anything of her, someone she felt she could truly be open with. She glanced fearfully at her father.

She had to put an end to this. She must save you from suffering the same fate she did.

“Father…you are not planning on taking a new wife, are you?” Alicent fidgeted with her fingers nervously, her eyes fixed on Otto. He was quiet for a long while, and in response to her question, he only stood up and went over to his daughter, placing a hand on her swollen belly. His cryptic answer disturbed Alicent. “You worry too much over matters that do not need worrying about, daughter. Your concern now, should be Aegon. Raise him well, and raise him strong. He shall be an important man one day.”

Come the morrow, the Godswood was completely devoid of any life. Which proved to be a boon to you, who was seeking some reprieve from the busy atmosphere of the Red Keep and the somewhat maddening task of having to feed Aegon - due to his tendency of smooshing the food in the face of whomever had the misfortune of feeding him, most commonly you.

You sat on the stone bench, staring despondently at the Godswood tree. While you were never particularly religious, either to the Seven or to the Old Gods, the happenings of the hunt have driven you to pray with increasing fervency these days. What you prayed for, you did not know. Was it for the hope that your father’s heart might soften and he might be persuaded to leave you be for the rest of your life? You scoffed to yourself, knowing how improbable it was. Fiddling with the pendant - Aemma’s pendant, you sighed, tilting your head downwards to the ground.

You were startled when you heard movement next to you, of another soul taking a seat next to you on the bench, her posture ramrod straight, and her expression blank. Rhaenyra’s linen sleeves fluttered slightly in the breeze.

“I suppose neither of us are in the best of spirits,” Rhaenyra’s voice was stilted, like she was reluctant to break the silence first. You lifted your head upright, looking at her with a tentative smile, “No, I suppose we aren’t.” An awkward silence highlighted the chasm between the two of you. You wondered, had this truly been the girl of fourteen who confided in you about everything? Now, it seems there is a stark contrast to the Rhaenyra you once knew to the Rhaenyra before you. Though of course, you were to be blamed for that.

“My father has just ordered me to embark on a tour of the realm. A marriage tour.” Rhaenyra’s bitter tone roused you from your thoughts. “I do not know why I’m telling you this. Perhaps it’s because you are the only person in the Keep who might have the slightest sympathy for what I’m going through.” Rhaenyra’s voice lowered to a slightly malicious pitch, but there was no disguising the hurt behind her voice. “Or maybe it would be false sympathy. But it is better than none.”

You winced, wanting to reach out and take Rhaenyra’s hand, the way you knew she loved. Physical touch was Rhaenyra’s favourite way of receiving and expressing affection. A wane smile pulled at your lips as you heard her words, “You might be cynical, but I have more sympathies to your plight than you might think, Princess.” Rhaenyra was surprised by the resignation in your tone. She recalled the scene she had seen when she returned to the royal encampment at the hunt that day. “...does it have something to do with your father?”

You let out a sad laugh, “Indeed. I have been forced into a situation much more precarious than yours, I would say. My father has given me an ultimatum: I must wed by the end of this year, or I shall be effectively disinherited and disowned as a member of House Tyrell.” Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, her stance immediately shifting to one of sympathy and guilt. “Does your father jest?” “I’m afraid not,” you remark with a despaired, cynical laugh, “Father’s patience has worn thin when it comes to me, I’m afraid. I should’ve known it foolish to think that I could escape from the ramifications of duty to my House.”

You were a little mortified to find your eyes prickling with tears. In truth, you were frightened to the bone. Two paths were set in stone before you now, and neither were pleasant. Rhaenyra hesitated for a while, before reaching out to take your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. You were startled by her sudden gesture, as the flood of familiarity rushed through your veins. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “This is a horrible situation to find yourself in.” She looked hesitant, “I know you’ve always been of your own mind, Y/N. I just want you to know…that you are not alone. Should the worst come…I’m sure that my father will not turn you away in your hour of need.” Her lips turned upwards wistfully, “I will not too. The both of us are stuck in similar predicaments, are we not? Daughters forced to marry off at our father’s behest. We must stick together.”

“...thank you,” you said quietly, touched, “I do not deserve your kindness, after all I have hidden from you.” Rhaenyra’s smile turns somewhat bitter, “What is done cannot be undone. What matters now is the future.”

The cool metal of Aemma’s pendant dug into the flesh of your palm, as an idea came to you. “I have something for you,” Rhaenyra’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes grew misty as you presented the ruby falcon pendant to her. “I think this belongs to you. I’ve been holding onto it for the past few years, but I think it’s time you have it back.” Rhaenyra takes the pendant, clasping it to her chest as she looked mournfully down at it. “I thought it was naught but ashes now.” You bit your lip, seeing how relieved yet pained Rhaenyra looked made you regret not giving it to her sooner. You had clung onto it for selfish reasons over the past few years, unwilling to let go of Aemma. But now, you felt it was time to let go of the past, and brave on into the future. “I hope that having this piece of Aemma would make you feel more comforted on your marriage tour.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes were misty, as she clasped the pendant like it was worth all the spice and gold from the shores of Essos. “Y/N.” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Hmm?” “Do you think…that Mother would’ve been proud of the person I am today?” Rhaenyra swallowed, looking downcast. “...I fear that, ever since I was named heir, since…Aegon was born, Father’s disappointment in me has been growing by the day.” “And why would you think that?” you asked, concerned. Rhaenyra took a shaky inhale, “I know that Father did not name me heir out of choice. It was a critical time, after Daemon had left, and the Realm would be plunged into unease upon the disinheritance of my uncle from the line of succession.” She bit her lip. “Father even told me as much. He said he had wavered at the notion of making me heir.” Your eyes flickered with shock and a little bit of righteous anger. “He said that?” Rhaenyra nodded miserably, and you patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. “He told me he would never waver again, but it is a little hard to put my faith in that, with….with Aegon’s shadow looming over me.” Rhaenyra sighed, tilting her head upwards. ”I just…I wish I could do something to be better. To prove to Father that I’m not just the right choice to the throne because he named me heir when he had no choice. I want to show him that I possess the qualities to rule the throne. The marriage tour would be a start, but I just detest the idea of having to bind myself to some lord to prove my worthiness to the throne.”

“I understand how you feel,” you commiserated, and she rested her head on your shoulder. “The expectations of a woman’s duty often cast a shadow over our lives.” Rhaenyra closed her eyes, feeling at ease with you, even if it were just for a brief moment. “Mother was fond of saying that marriage is a woman’s duty, and childbed is our battlefield. Especially as royal women,” Rhaenyra’s voice was thick with emotion. “I understand I must do this, for the good of the realm, but…why is it so terrifying? To have my worth determined on my husband and the number of children I can bear in service to him and the realm.” The setting sun glistened off a tear slowly making its way down Rhaenyra’s cheek. “Y/N, do you think my mother would be proud, watching me doubt her teachings?”

You reached out to wipe her tear away, your other hand’s thumb gently stroking her hand that you still held. “You are her daughter, Rhaenyra. I have no doubt that you could be the most dastardly miscreant, and she would be proud of you nonetheless.” That got a bleak smile from Rhaenyra, “Truly?” You nodded your confirmation, smiling fondly down at her. “Truly. Though luckily, your moral character is rather upright.” Rhaenyra laughed, and you smiled, happy to have made her laugh. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. You have no idea how much that means to me.” Rhaenyra whispered to you.

The two women stayed like this in the Godswood for a while, each swarmed by their own thoughts. So different, yet so similar in their impending doom, and duty.

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A/N: All I gotta say is: ruh roh, trouble is brewing. If you have made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. I aim to release chapter 8 by next Wednesday, hopefully something unprecedented doesn't happen before then though.

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