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flowerandblood · 2 months

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Object of Delight (3/3)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, domination, swearing, postpartum depression ]

[ description: Aemond is forced to marry a widow from House Arryn as part of the alliance and support of his brother in the war against the Black faction. Despite his initial reluctance, a bond develops between him and his wife that he cannot understand or comprehend. In this chapter I combine several requests into one. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. ]

Part 1 − Object of Desire Part 2 − Object of Despair Epilogue

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

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The frequency and fervour with which he fucked his wife caused it to be less than three moons before the measter brought him the joyful news during one of his sparring sessions with Ser Criston, informing him that she was expecting his child.

He explained that he had been summoned by one of her servants when she suddenly fainted, and as it turned out, the cause of her indisposition was his inheritance in her womb.

He couldn't help the smirk of satisfaction and the amused look he threw Cole, for here it appeared that, in fact, her deceased husband had simply failed to perform his duty well − his seed was weak and his lineage would be forgotten.

Although he was buzzing with curiosity and desire to see her now, to take her in this blessed state, he decided not to show his weakness and make it to the end of his training following his daily routine, heading to her chamber immediately after taking a quick bath.

His long white hair was still a little damp when he crossed the threshold of her quarters − the door closed quietly behind him, and he looked at her sleeping figure lying on her bed, covered in thick furs. He hummed, walking slowly closer, recognising that she had made the right decision to rest − in her current state she needed to look out for herself more than before.

He stood over her in silence for a moment, fighting the burning desire to touch her face, to take an unruly strand from her cheek, but hesitated.

He only made gestures that someone might call affectionate after their intense closeness, when she slept snuggled against his naked chest, her hand on which she wore a golden ring in the shape of a sun with a sapphire eye, his gift to her, proof that she was capable of pleasing him both in and out of bed, rested on his heart.

He stroked her soft, smooth hair then, her bare shoulder, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, musing. The fact that she spent the nights with him became natural to them − he did not summon her and she did not wait for his permission, following him to his quarters immediately after supper. They didn't speak much, didn't confide their secrets to each other, instead getting to know each other's bodies intimately.

They were able to lie on their sides in the dark for hours satisfying and teasing each other with their mouths without giving each other fulfilment. He enjoyed watching out of the corner of his eye, trailing his lips over her hot, leaking womanhood as his wife sucked unhurriedly on his cock, licking and teasing it with her pink tongue, her caresses gentle and tender, making his fingers involuntarily clench tighter on the naked skin of her hips right next to his face.

There was something liberating to him in the fact that she did not require him to make confessions or sacrifice his regular daily life; although it had always seemed to him that a wife was merely an extension of her husband and his shadow, she preferred to remain a separate entity and he chose not to overuse the power he had over her, not finding it necessary.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes opened lazily − she smiled barely visible, softly, perhaps even warmly at the sight of him.

"Are you trying to scare me?" She muttered, turning only to sink deeper into the soft bedding, looking at him calmly, her eyes bright, her face smooth, without a trace of a grimace.

He snorted, amused, turning his head away for a moment only to look at her again, sighing heavily − even though he tried to keep a grave face he knew she had noticed his contentment with the news that had reached him.

"I have been informed that you are carrying my son in your womb." He hummed low, deeply − she blinked, smiling wider.

"I don't know if it will be a son." She replied softly, and he hummed again; she shifted back as he walked closer to her bed and lay on his side, his face turned towards her, laying his head on the pillow right next to hers. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, feeling that although neither of them used words, this was a day of their shared joy, for here was the fruit of their efforts.

He raised his large hand at the thought, unable to contain himself − his fingers took a strand of her black hair and flicked it over her back with a light gesture. She smiled wider, knowing that he couldn't stand it when something covered her face.

Her eyes.

Taking advantage of the fact that he had already touched her, he involuntarily ran his thumb over her soft, plump cheek. He saw that she had closed her eyes, sighing quietly, his gaze focused on her long, dark lashes. His fingers tightened around her neck, drawing her to him and she purred loudly as his swollen lips pressed against hers in a wet, loud, hot kiss.

He pulled away from her with a quiet click, but her lips ran invitingly over his, telling him that she craved more, so he sank into their fleshy texture again, slipping the tip of his tongue between them, a sweet, innocent moan came from her throat causing his cock to throb impatiently in his breeches.

He took her more gently than usual, rocking his hips lazily deep inside her, each time the tip of his swollen manhood rubbing the spot between her muscles, from which a shiver of pleasure ran through her whole body, her fingers tightening on his muscular shoulders, her body beginning to meet his, wordlessly letting him know that he could accelerate his pace.

Her short, slender fingernails dug into the bare skin of his firm buttocks as he began to thrust into her more aggressively, wanting him to do it even harder − he stroked her cheek as she began to babble, asking, begging him to give her what she needed.

"− we need to be more careful now because of the baby − I know, I know you need it, shhh −" He hushed her, closing her mouth with his own, his hands gripped her thighs, with sure, deep thrusts pounding into her at an angle that he knew gave her the greatest pleasure − she arched her back with a sweet moan as his thumb began to tease her bud with circular, intense strokes, her walls began to squeeze him, soaking him all over in her moisture.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled pleadingly, in the way he adored most − he looked down at her panting loudly, resting his free hand on the bed frame in front of him, thrusting into her again and again with the sticky splat of his thighs against her buttocks, his cock throbbing hard, demanding fulfilment.

"− I know − I'll lick you good tonight and slap those buttocks a little − sounds good, hm? −" He gasped, looking at her with affection from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. She nodded her head quickly and cried out − he felt her muscles clench at the very thought, sucking him inside, her cheeks red from exertion and desire, her swollen, full lips parted wide, her hands trailing over his hot flesh.

"− yes − please − fuck me good − o-oh gods −" She mewled sweetly as her body shook with eager, overpowering fulfilment − she tilted her head back, writhing beneath him, her weeping cunt began to clench on him greedily, intensifying his pleasure.

"− good girl −" He exhaled wearily as with a few desperate, sloppy thrusts he came inside her with a loud sigh of relief, looking at her in disbelief.

The woman who had given him what he craved.

"− you did so well for me −" He whispered, leaning over her, being careful not to crush her with his body, sinking his nose into her soft cheek. She wrapped her hands around his waist, stroking his back, making a shiver run along his spine every time her fingers brushed over his hot, sweaty skin.

She knew there was a deeper meaning to what he said and that it didn't just refer to their intense closeness.

Her abdomen swelling from his inheritance was his reason for being proud − his hand lay on it and stroked it involuntarily during the evenings or mornings she spent in his company.

As she lay naked beside him at night, sweaty and welted from what he had done to her, her cunt all puffy and sore from the caresses of his tongue, he hugged his face to her womb, smiling involuntarily when he sometimes managed to feel the movement of the little dragon that was growing inside her.

Despite the maester's recommendation that they should not cohabit with each other when she was in such advanced pregnancy and their strenuous attempts to confine themselves to the use of their mouths alone, as she lay beside him, cuddled with her back to his chest, his manhood swelled involuntarily, slapping against her buttocks.

She would then spread her thighs invitingly, teasing him with the strokes of her hips, tilting her head back, whispering how wet she was, and he, impatiently lifted her higher, forcing the fat head of his cock with their sigh of relief into her tight, throbbing opening, and although they knew they should do it slowly, they fucked each other rough.

"− can't you last a few fucking days without my cock? − isn't it enough that you came on my face tonight? −" He exhaled, listening as his thighs slapped fast against her buttocks with loud smacks, his manhood thrusting into her with ease, her insides slick with her juices, his fingers between her thighs, their tips playing with her clit, not letting her escape.

"− I came having your cock deep inside my mouth − have you forgotten already? −" She gasped and he groaned low at the thought, quickening his pace, clamping his hand around her neck so as not to make it difficult for her to breathe and accidentally hurt the baby − he hid his face in her hair, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to another fulfilment.

"− no − that's not something you can forget − fuck −" He muttered, feeling her sticky walls begin to suck him inside in orgasm, her moisture spilling over his thighs, her moans making him let go, letting his hot seed spill inside her.

"− gods, so good − I can't stop −" He mumbled, and she sighed heavily, moving with him for a moment longer, stroking his arm that embraced her swollen abdomen.

"− me too −"

On the day of the delivery he was restless, pacing around his chamber, full of tension, unable to sit still. She felt the first contractions in the morning and collapsed as her servants helped her dress, whimpering, terrified that it had begun.

He consoled himself with the thought that her mother, the Queen and his sister were with her, that she was not alone, but he could not stop thinking about Aemma, her grandfather's sister and his father's first wife, how she had died and that, although he tried to push the vision away, the birth could prove complicated.

He swallowed hard, running his hand over his face, unwittingly seeing in his mind her pale, lifeless body, her empty violet eyes, her cheeks drenched in tears, her nightgown soaked in blood at the height of her thighs.

He groaned lowly, trying to calm down, repeating to himself that this would not happen, that she was not Aemma and he was not his father.

Hours passed, however, and he still hadn't received any news of her condition − he felt like he was dying inside, for some reason he wanted to weep with despair.

He saw himself with his hands placed deep in the fire of his fireplace, holding his dragon egg, clenching his lips in pain, begging the gods for it to crack.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie, rising to his feet as the maester stepped inside his chamber, his attention immediately drawn to the fact that his hands were all dirty in blood.

"Your Grace. You have a son." He said in a trembling voice, and he looked at him dully, as if he did not understand what he had said.

"What about my wife?"

He moved immediately to her chamber when he learned that she had endured the birth very badly, that there was no contact with her, that she had a fever.

That she might not survive.

He didn't even look at the wailing child in his Queen's arms − he walked immediately to the bed where her mother was sobbing, stroking her hands.

She looked exactly as in his vision, pale, her gaze blank, directed somewhere far away, her chemise all red with blood − if it weren't for the fact that her breast was rising and falling in shallow breaths he would have thought she was dead.

"− Your Grace, you shouldn't −" He heard the voice of one of the ladies of the court, but he just stood there looking at her with his lips pressed together, feeling a squeeze in his throat and chest so strong that he had the impression that his whole body had begun to tremble.

He involuntarily moved towards her, climbing onto the bed, leaning on his knees, his trembling hand touched her hot, sweaty cheek, all wet with tears.

"− my love − my love, speak to me −" He whispered, but she didn't even look at him − she only twitched, one last, lonely tear flowed from the corner of her eye.

Something about the sight broke him − he pressed his forehead to her temple, panting hard, her wonderful scent filling his lungs again.

"− don't leave me − don't leave me alone in this world −"

He didn't know if his words had reached her, her fever intensified by the night he had spent by her side with her mother. He sat in a chair watching as she washed her face, already dressed in a clean, snow-white undershirt, covered by thick layers of furs, her body quivering all over, sunk in a deep, restless sleep.

"− I thought the worst was behind her − after that bastard −" She began, but pressed her lips together, as if unable to get it out of her − he looked at her anxiously, feeling his whole body tense up.

She had never told him about her first husband.

Nor had he ever asked about it, not even wanting to recall that another man had had her before him.

"− was he not a good husband? −" He asked impassively − Lady Arryn looked up at him with big eyes, her eyebrows arched in despair and anger at the same time.

Her hair were as dark as his wife's, but her irises were golden and bright, shining in the candlelight around them.

She swallowed loudly, her chin trembling all over, as if she couldn't get it out of her.

"− I − I didn't find out until a year later − that when it turned out she was bleeding, that she wasn't carrying his child − every month he made her sleep in godswood, in just her nightgown − h-he said − gods, he said that until she gave him an heir, she was like his sword, his book, or his horse − her servants took pity on her and when he fell asleep, they would take her to their chambers beneath the stronghold −" She muttered, tears of grief and bitterness running down her face. He looked at her dully, feeling as if he was about to vomit, his stomach painfully clenched − he ran his trembling hand over his face, hearing her words during their wedding night inside his head.

A wife is a gift. Like a sword, a book or a horse.

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, feeling a burning wetness under his eyelids that he did not let flow.

Her silhouette lying under the weirwood tree, then, as he followed her.

He thought she stopped visiting this place when it became apparent that she was expecting his child because walking such long distances began to be difficult for her.

"− my husband did the right thing − he deserved it −" She exclaimed, and he didn't speak again, knowing what she meant.

He only breathed a sigh of relief the next day when her fever had diminished and she was still breathing. She would wake up and only babble, her mother would feed her and help her dress, and he would just be beside her, overseeing everything, wanting to make sure nothing escaped his attention.

He knew that his son was in the care of his mother and sister.

As she began to regain consciousness, it was decided to introduce their son to her − one of the wet nurses, a plump woman with a wide smile brought in her arms an infant with his white hair and her mother's golden eyes. He smiled involuntarily at the sight, hoping that the appearance of her child would give her strength.

"Look, my Lady. It's your little boy. Would you like to feed him?" The woman asked softly, but his wife merely looked away, tense, staring out of the window, her fingers clenched on the thick fur that covered her. He pressed his lips together at the sight, feeling that something was happening deep inside her, that something had taken place during the birth that had broken her.

She did not want to look at the baby, touch it or feed it − she only expressed in a weak voice her satisfaction that their child was healthy.

Her mother tried to persuade her to at least take her son in her arms, that she would then immediately feel maternal love and attachment, but she shook her head quickly, tears running down her face as if she didn't even want to imagine it.

"− Your Grace, I'm afraid a heavy birth has caused your wife to lose her senses, she is rejecting her own child − I believe that at this point she is dangerous to Your Highness' son and should be left alone for a while to calm down −" The maester told him as he left her chamber to change and refresh himself, his lips tightened into a thin line at his words.

"− weigh your words − my wife is suffering, and you are to find the cause of it −" He hissed, furious, the man swallowed hard and nodded, not speaking again.

When he returned to her quarters, he noticed to his surprise that her bed was empty, her mother asleep in her chair, tired, no one else around.

He went outside in a panic, wondering where she could have gone, heading towards the godswood, however, he froze in a half-step walking down the corridor when he noticed that the door to the chamber his son slept in was ajar.

He walked slowly inside and stopped, noticing her silhouette sitting next to the cradle, looking blankly at the sleeping infant, her face indifferent and expressionless. She lifted her gaze to him at last, as if snapped out of her reverie, her eyebrows arched in pain, her fingers clenched on the fabric of her nightgown.

"What's going to happen to me now?" She muttered in a trembling voice and he shook his head, not understanding what she was asking.

"I do not follow." He replied; she lowered her gaze, her lower lip quivered, tears ran down her cheeks − she seemed to have fallen into some kind of state of panic.

"Now that I've given you a son. What are you going to do with me? Will you pretend I don't exist? Will you find yourself a lover?"

He stared at her stunned, feeling the quick pounding of his heart and the squeeze in his throat, horrified at the direction her thoughts were taking.

"Where did those words come from?" He asked in disbelief, feeling that he was struggling to breathe, his hands clenched into fists.

She hid her face in her hands, shaking her head, bursting into a loud sobs as if something inside her had cracked.

"I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't." She squirmed, drawing in air loudly − he moved towards her, kneeling in front of her, pressing her face to his chest.

"Calm down. Please." He whispered, her fingers clenching tightly on the material of his green tunic in a helpless gesture of despair.

"I am worn out. I'm a worn-out, empty vessel. There's nothing more I can give you." She whimpered, and he clamped his eyelids shut, pulling her close. Her body fell to the ground right beside him, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, cuddling her into himself like a small child, stroking her soft dark hair reassuringly.

"You are my wife. I will never betray you or our family. We can wait with begetting another child until you are ready. After all, we have our ways of doing that, don't we?" He asked in a soft, trembling voice, trying to comfort her, to let her understand that nothing was over, but on the contrary, in his eyes, it had only just begun.

"I've been contemplating for some time that I should take you in front of that guard who looks at you so shamelessly when you're wearing gowns of thinner material. When your breasts are visible through it. That would give him something to think about, hm? And the most important thing. Vhagar. The mother of my child must know what it means to ride a dragon." He hummed into her ear, playing with strands of her hair, feeling her shiver at his words, that she was returning to him, her body no longer trembling, her breathing calming.

"I thought I'd already ridden the world's greatest dragon." She whispered, and he involuntarily smirked and snorted, kissing her hair.

"Not like this."

They stayed like that for a while in each other's embrace, sitting on the floor, stroking each other's cheeks, shoulders and hair, for the first time so close, so tender, so sincere. They shuddered when they heard sobbing and whimpering coming from the cradle − they both rose and he turned his head, calling the guard, telling them to bring a nursemaid.

"No." She said softly, coming closer, leaning over the cradle, taking their son into her arms. She embraced him and began rocking him, shushing him reassuringly as she looked at his face.

"− hello, little one − I know − it's not your fault −" She muttered with difficulty, tears in her eyes − he looked at this sight with a squeezed throat and swallowed heavily.

"− come here − are you hungry? −" She asked, sitting down on the window sill, slipping the material of her nightgown off her shoulder, exposing her breast, all swollen, full of milk − he felt his manhood throb involuntarily in his breeches at this sight.

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as their son, nestled against her breast, found her nipple and, in a natural, subconscious instinct, began to suck on it greedily, clamping his small hand over her skin.

She looked at their child with curiosity and some kind of warmth that moved him.

He approached her, leaning over her, kissing the top of her head, sinking his nose into her soft hair, looking out of the corner of his eye at this almost mythological sight of a woman feeding her offspring.

"− what did you name our son? −" She asked quietly, and he felt hot in his chest hearing her use the word our.

"− I waited with this decision for you − you are his mother −" He replied softly, taking an unruly strand of her hair from her face. She mused, looking at the infant suckled to her breast and smiled softly.

"− Jaehaerys −" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, delighted that they had thought of the same thing.

Of their common ancestor.

"− so Jaehaerys it will be −"

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neptuneiris · 7 months

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sparks (02/04)

And I know, I was wrong But I won't let you down

pairing: business-boyfriend!aemond x fem!reader

summary: at the beginning your relationship with aemond is perfect and there were no worries. until he becomes the Heir of his father's company, the most important in the whole country and certain events and certain people start to interfere in the relationship.

word count: 8.8k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

IT'S HERE! MY GOD-i'm so excited for you to read this, I'm really enjoying writing this fic so much and your comments and opinions make me very happy, and I'll be waiting anxiously to answer them:)

I also want to thank you for the incredible support for the first part, it was simply amazing! thank you for reading, commenting and reblogging, it means a lot to me beautiful people❤

now i won't stop you anymore, enjoy and wait anxiously for the next part!

As the sun slowly sets on the horizon, you and Aemond arrive at the majestic event venue of one of the most luxurious hotels in the city.

You are both dressed elegantly, he in an impeccable black suit and you in a stunning metallic ocean blue dress, the same color of the sapphire that Aemond wears in his empty socket and also his favorite color.

You have always waited for the ideal moment to wear this color of dress and match perfectly with Aemond, knowing too well and so does he that this night is very important.

The whole street and around has the passage completely obstructed for outsiders, there are police cars guarding the whole area along with security guards to allow the entrance to the hall of the huge hotel where the whole event will happen to the people who have been required.

You along with Aemond are allowed to pass through easily, while you watch through the window as all the press goes crazy and take pictures of absolutely everything, especially the car, as they know that inside is the Heir to Targaryen Inc.

There are a lot of cameras, a lot of light and above all a lot of people.

You feel how Aemond's hand gently squeezes yours, bringing his body a little closer towards yours, observing everything just like you and feeling perfectly how anxiety starts to run through his body, as well as he starts to feel a knot in his stomach.

The magnitude of the event and the amount of people gathered there started to make him feel nervous even though he has attended these events before.

But especially now he feels that way because he knows that all eyes will be on him now that he is his father's Heir.

He knows he hasn't even gotten out of the car and he's already the center of attention, so he imagines what a disaster it will be by the time he's finally in full view of all the photographers.

You immediately notice the change in his facial expression and gently stroke his arm with your free hand, comforting him, watching him with understanding and giving him all the support you can, letting him know that this is what you are here for and that he is not alone.

Aemond feels a little more reassured to feel your touch and closeness, feeling lucky to have you by his side at this crucial important moment in his life's work.

He doesn't even understand how he had thought of coming here earlier by himself, without you. He doesn't know what he would have done.

However, good times can't last forever.

Confused you watch through the car windows as Criston continues to drive slowly along, passing the main entrance to the hall where all the businessmen and also women with their companions have their pictures and videos taken.

Thing you've done with Aemond before but… now it looks like that won't be the case.

"Where are we going?"

"Love, I need you to do this for me."

You ask him watching him with your frown, to which Aemond looks nervous, anguished and sorrowful, holding his hand more firmly with yours.

Then you watch how Cole parks at another entrance on the other side of the hotel…. where there is absolutely no one, just security guards.

He starts to say to you as he gets fully incorporated in the seat, leaning towards you, not letting go of your hand and speaking to you in a rushed tone out of nerves, as you turn your gaze to him confused.

"I need you to go through that door, Hel should already be waiting for you. I'll meet you in there, okay?"

His words definitely throw you off, watching him with great attention and slight surprise.

"Why?"

He stirs in his seat as he sees the confusion in your eyes, also as little by little sadness begins to creep in, feeling more anguished than before but having to ask this of you, even though he doesn't agree.

"It will only be for this moment, I promise. Once we meet in there, we'll be together."

"But why don't you want me to come in together with you?"

He lets out a long breath, starting to worry.

And despite his explanation, you can't help but feel sad and annoyed as you watch him still intently with your brows furrowed, not saying or doing anything for a few seconds, the realization becoming clearer.

"It's not that I don't want love, it's just that my grandsire has asked to take pictures of us with Rivers and his uncle."

He explains to you with a sad look.

"And I don't want them to take pictures of you standing apart and start publishing them in magazines talking things about you. At least there's no one here and it will be safer."

"Sir, we have to go now. They're waiting for you."

Cole alerts him from the pilot's seat, watching you in the rearview mirror, and Aemond again watches you, insistent and concerned.

"Love, please," he murmurs to you under his breath.

You avoid looking him in the eye as you now resignedly let go of his hands almost abruptly and coldly and then grab your handbag and begin to quickly exit the car.

You lower your gaze as you press your lips together, feeling the discomfort coursing through your body, trying to control your true emotions, but you can't.

You definitely didn't expect this.

Aemond lets out a long breath.

"Please don't be angry, love."

He tells you pleading and sad, but you don't look at him or say anything to him, you just get out of the car and close the door to quickly head to the huge door with a lump in your throat and with a sharp pain in your chest.

You truly understand the importance of this event for him and the company, you were the one who insisted on coming too, but you definitely didn't deserve this, to be hidden away as if you were an intruder and didn't belong here.

And Aemond at all times is not calm and has barely started the night.

Once he gets out of the car, as you also enter the hall where the whole event will be held, inside and outside the bustle of the crowd and conversations fill the air.

He meets his grandsire, Alys Rivers and Larys Strong, while you meet Helaena.

You also see other family members of Aemond that you also know, like his half-sister Rhaenyra and his uncle Daemon Targaryen, also his nephews and cousins, his mother and his brothers, Aegon and Daeron.

Even Helaena didn't know she would be so busy, apologizing to you for how little time you have to catch up, but you assure her that all is well, when the truth is not.

You thought that with them everything would be easier to get along with, like before, especially after what just happened, since you always got along well with his family.

But this event is too important since the Targaryens are the center of attention and everyone is busy, even the cousins and nephews.

The whole place is absolutely grand and elegant, the whole atmosphere has an aura of prestige and sophistication like all the people present.

The room has tall, wide windows that offer breathtaking views of the city, illuminated by the night lights, as the hotel is located in the upper suburbs.

At one end of the hall there is a raised stage where presentations and speeches will take place, there is also sound and projection equipment, also an area for the press. But for the moment, there is a group of musicians.

Silk tapestries add touches of warmth and luxury throughout, as well as large crystal chandeliers hang from the high vaulted ceiling, casting flashes of light.

There are tables carefully decorated with white linen tablecloths, as well as comfortable and elegant chairs with high backs.

Finally there is the luxurious bar, where drinks are free and there are two male bar tenders at disposal.

You head there, wanting to have a drink to calm your spirits, unconsciously waiting for Aemond, being here alone and not feeling… not at all well.

There are already a considerable number of people entering the hall, all the businessmen with their wives, sons and daughters, also their assistants, while you watch as all the Targaryen greet everyone and are cordial with elegance in their clothes, postures and out-of-this-world appearance.

While you stand apart, sipping your glass of wine, observing everything. Then you take your phone from your bag to entertain yourself for a moment, when then, Aemond appears.

But not alone, but with Alys Rivers.

This doesn't bother you, on the contrary, Aemond was completely honest with you telling you that they wanted to take pictures of the two of them and that's what happens, while you see him with his serious and cold face standing at the entrance with her and then a small part of the press inside the room taking more pictures of them.

But that's not what catches your attention or what bothers you, what does is that this woman is wearing a dress the same color as yours.

You hide your surprise very well while at the same time a mixture of emotions completely overwhelms your inner self, watching how she poses and smiles with such elegance towards the cameras next to him, completely pleased.

It seems that she is his companion, not you.

Compared to your dress, hers is completely fitted to her body and reaches above her knees, wearing black high heels, with her hair pulled back in an elegant bun with black locks falling on either side of her face.

While yours is completely long and a little looser without straps, wearing silver high heels with your hair completely loose styled in slight waves. (click here)

Normally the color of the dress wouldn't have mattered to you, but you see the way she poses and behaves with him in front of the press, while those people with their cameras ask them for more and look pleased too, asking them to be closer to each other.

It really looks like she is his escort, totally overshadowing you.

At that moment, your self-confidence fades and discomfort comes over you, also annoyance. You try to keep your composure but the tension all over your body is too much, instantly looking away from them and feeling an incredible urge to cry.

It's just a dress, don't overreact.

You tell yourself, saying you shouldn't react, not here, not now knowing that this is important to Aemond and his family, that you are really his companion, not her and that eventually everyone will see that.

But you can't help it… you feel humiliated.

You take a huge gulp from your wine glass, averting your gaze from everything and everyone, focusing on the city lights through the large windows, enduring more of the urge to cry and let out everything you're feeling.

Though clearly Aemond doesn't have a hard time finding you all over the hall.

"Hey."

You hear him approach and he gently takes your arm and turns you towards him, watching you with full attention, while you take the last sip of your glass of wine, watching him afterwards without emotion.

"Hey."

You look away and call the bar tender, asking him to refill your drink, still feeling the discomfort all over your body as Aemond knows perfectly well how you must be feeling.

And he watches you hopefully, wanting you to say something, anything, even giving you his full attention, wanting to be with you and only you after such a stressful and unnecessary entrance to this boring event.

But nothing. You don't say or do anything to him.

"Love, I'm so sorry," he tells you honest and sad.

Again you say nothing to him, acting completely unconcerned, your face neutral and emotionless.

"Seriously, about before I didn't want to do it but my grandsire insisted and she…" he pauses, letting out a long breath as he runs a hand over his face, "I'm sorry. If I had known I would have—

"Don't worry about it."

You interrupt him, not wanting to talk about it anymore, certainly because you don't want to ruin his night any more and you don't want to stress him out any more when he must be getting enough to do and take care of tonight.

But he insists.

"I know you're upset and—

"I know perfectly well when you're lying to me."

"I'm not upset."

"I'm not upset. I haven't even said anything."

You tell him still watching him emotionlessly, clearly wanting to make yourself look as believable as possible with your words. Then at that moment the bar tender hands you your glass of wine and you begin to drink, going back to watching everyone.

But Aemond continues to watch you intently, concerned.

"Then say something, anything, please."

And that's when you start to react, starting to get annoyed with his attitude.

"And what do you want me to say?" you snap at him quietly, "I told you I'm not upset."

'At least not with you, just with the situation,' that's what you really want to say.

But you stay quiet, wanting to end the conversation once and for all, as you tried to do from the beginning but he keeps insisting.

"I don't know Y/N, just tell me something, whatever you want, but make it true," he also whispers quietly, moving closer to you to create more privacy between the two of you in public.

"Y/N! There you are, my dear!"

And before you can say anything back to him, at that moment a third voice interrupts the small discussion as it approaches towards both of you.

Alicent Hightower exclaims with a huge charming smile, sporting a beautiful emerald green dress and extravagant hairstyle, instantly enclosing you in a gentle but firm embrace which you reciprocate, now putting on your best face.

"Ah finally I see you after so long," she says lovingly in your ear, "I'm so sorry we couldn't talk when you arrived, as you can see we're all busy and it's crazy, like every time. But I'm so happy to see you."

She tells you as she pulls away from you and continues to watch you with her soft, comforting smile.

"Don't worry, I totally understand," you assure her with a small smile, "You look beautiful."

"Oh! Thank you," she observes to herself, still smiling, "You too my dear, absolutely beautiful."

You widen your smile a little more, for a moment feeling embarrassed since also a certain woman is wearing the same color as you, but you quickly push that thought away.

"Thank you so much."

"Come," she says to both of you, without letting go of your hand, "Rhaenyra has told me she wants to greet you, so does Daeron, before it all begins."

And this is what puts the discussion you were having with Aemond to a complete pause.

He follows you instantly, while you soon greet his half-sister and nephews, starting to catch up with all of them, also his cousins, Baela and Rhaena, who have always been absolutely charming and fun with you.

You also greet Aegon, who comes accompanied by his girlfriend, Cassandra Baratheon, where you know they are only dating because of an arrangement between his grandsire and her father, as the Baratheons also own an important company and thanks to their relationship, the two companies have partnered up.

You then talk to Daeron, who tells you that he is about to enter college along with Luke, his nephew, and then a very animated and happy Helaena joins in the conversation, the two of them making you totally forget everything that happened as soon as you and Aemond arrived at the hotel.

In fact when you and Helaena talk alone again, she mentions to you quietly that everyone knows what her grandsire is trying to do with Aemond and Alys Rivers, telling you right away that she doesn't agree nor does anyone else for that matter, only him.

She also tells you not to be intimidated by him, much less by that woman by briefly mentioning about the dress since of course she has noticed and assures you that you are not alone in any of this.

You are quite relieved and comforted by this, as you had given up hope the moment you saw Alys so pleased at Aemond's side, but now hearing this… it really makes you feel very relieved.

Then the whole event begins.

You take a seat next to Aemond at one of the tables that are right in front of the stage along with his entire family, as well as the other guests, while Otto Hightower takes the microphone and gives a brief welcome.

Aemond next to you takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, wanting to feel your touch despite what happened a few moments ago between the two of you and you leave him, where neither of you say anything.

Then businessmen begin to take the stage, each speaking on key topics in the banking industry, such as financial regulation, investments, digital banking, risk management, fintech technology and more.

These presentations are given by industry experts and thought leaders, including Otto Hightower and Larys Strong, the uncle of Alys Rivers.

Even Helaena takes the stage to talk about new acquisitions in Highgarden's company, also Daemon with Rhaenyra Targaryen.

They also offer the opportunity to pitch projects or seek investments related to banking, they also talk about acquisitions, mergers or strategic collaborations.

They also again talk about financial technology.

When it then comes time for all the businessmen to focus on establishing relationships that can lead to business opportunities, collaborations and alliances with other businessmen.

Aemond tells you that he will be back in a moment, telling you briefly that he will speak with Rodrik Greyjoy, also an important businessman who is the head of the Pike company, the most important company in the Iron Islands.

You just nod and he leaves, then you think you might talk to Hel or Daeron, even Jace or Baela for the moment, but as you watch them, the entire Targaryen family is again busy talking to different men with their wives and children.

You let out a long breath and stand there alone for a few moments observing everything around you, then decide to approach the bar again and order a glass of wine, which is what you usually always drink when you feel uneasy and anxious.

And standing with your glass again you observe everything, focusing on Aemond for a moment, watching him talking to Greyjoy, both a bit more apart from all the people and looking both very serious and professional with what they must be talking about.

You don't know how long you last like that, just standing there and nothing else, not really doing anything, just asking the bar tender to refill your glass every so often, making sure to always drink small amounts of your wine.

When then you notice it.

Being alone in a secluded corner of the huge hall, you see how two women a few meters away from you in long and more than elegant dresses, wearing valuable jewelry and with a look of superiority and also a little mocking, watching you.

This confuses you and catches your attention at the same time, watching out of the corner of your eye as both watch you from head to toe and talk quietly among themselves without disguise, you not understanding anything.

You observe yourself, wondering if there is something out of place in your appearance, since appearance is what matters most in events like these, but everything is still fine with you, so you do not understand what it is that draws their attention to you.

However, in the face of this you again feel your nerves coming and your confidence fading, feeling uncomfortable, out of place and with anxiety all over your body.

You turn around, leaning your elbows on the counter as you bite your lips and try to calm yourself, feeling that suddenly all eyes are on you, not understanding what is wrong with you.

When a voice speaks in your direction.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Y/N."

You leave your drink on the bar and turn around, coming face to face with Otto Hightower, who is also wearing a smart suit and has a serious, cold look on his face that shows unconformity in your direction.

And you have no idea what to say to him.

How is he surprised to see you here if you've come to these events before with Aemond?

"It's not what you wanted, I guess," you tell him with a certain bitter and serious tone, speaking to him in the same way he is speaking to you.

He bites the inside of his cheek, then settles next to you with an appropriate distance, calling the bar tender and asking for a glass of white wine, while you watch him intently throughout.

"No, of course it's not what I wanted and I'm relieved that at least you understand that," he finally tells you, serious and direct, "I told Aemond perfectly well that he shouldn't have brought you, but he's just as stubborn as his brother."

You bite your lips, avoiding speaking to him in a ruder tone than you should and also avoiding saying what you really want so as not to cause real trouble, with annoyance starting to course through your body.

"I'm his girlfriend," you tell him seriously and in a reminder tone.

"And this is work," he replies in kind, "And serious work. Something you wouldn't understand from working in a coffee shop."

You let out a snort.

"Are you trying to put me down?" you stare at him incredulously.

"I'm just being honest and seeing things as they really are," he says and doesn't give you a chance to speak, "My grandson is a successful man, just like his family. And he should surround himself with people just like him. Believe me I have made sure he is where he is now and I care deeply about his future," he says with a condescending tone, "Don't you?"

"Of course I do," you tell him instantly, "I've done nothing but support him."

He gives a fake smile.

"That's good to hear, exactly what I would expect from you, but I want you to understand one thing and I want you to get it right, Y/N."

He begins to tell you with his eyes never ceasing to look directly into yours, glowing with a cold and more than willing determination, his posture demanding power over you, making you feel small as you continue to watch him intently.

"You don't belong in this world," he tells you menacingly, "I've tolerated this nonsense from you and him long enough, but now that he is his father's successor and is in a higher position and with a promising future, I won't tolerate it anymore," he makes it clear to you, "You can't really offer anything important to Aemond and that's what we need, assurance and alliances for the good of the company."

He tells you in the cruelest tone of all, where even though you try to remain calm, you begin to feel insecure and lose your composure as you listen intently, feeling a sharp pain in your chest.

"And that's exactly what Alys Rivers can offer him."

Then your shoulders drop, your whole posture ceases to feel tense from the defeat invading you and you feel a deep ache all through you, feeling utterly small, helpless and vulnerable.

You lower your gaze with your lips parted, trying to control all your emotions as you feel your eyes glaze over and you feel a painful lump in your throat, not wanting to cry now in this place with him continuing to watch you intently.

Then you press your lips together in an expression of anguish and humiliation, unable to help yourself.

"Our family has built a reputation and that's the most important thing to us. And you don't fit in, you're just not of use, now do you understand what I mean?" he tells you expectantly.

But despite how he is making you feel, you try to defend yourself.

"Is money and reputation really more important to you? Don't you care about his happiness?"

"Aemond is not going to live on love, silly girl, neither the company," he tells you instantly annoyed, "So I hope that for the sake of him and his work, you will be the one to decide to end the relationship since he certainly won't," he tells you bitterly, "Alys Rivers is starting to lose patience and there is no way I am going to lose the opportunity of association with her company, have you understood?"

You watch him without saying anything, still with your sad look and also with the surprise to see his determination, the how he really doesn't care about Aemond's feelings, while he throws you his hateful look and continues to watch you more than threatening.

When then the sound of the microphone catches everyone's attention, also yours and his, watching the stage.

"Hum… excuse me? May I have your attention for a moment, ladies and gentlemen, please?"

Alys Rivers speaks, starting to get the attention of all the people who stop talking and focus on her, while you still feel all your overwhelming emotions.

"Good evening everyone, it's a pleasure to be here present with all of you," she smiles elegantly to the whole audience, clasping her hands together in front of her, "For those who don't know me, I introduced myself, I'm Alys Rivers, co-owner of the Riverlands company, nice to meet you."

She says as she radiates confidence and determination, reflecting her commitment and enthusiasm, as you watch the business wives smile at her throughout.

"I would like to take this moment to announce a very early association that I am still working on together with my company partner, Larys Strong," she says without stopping smiling at any moment, looking very happy and excited "So I would like to call to the stage my very soon to be partner, Mr. Aemond Targaryen."

Thunderous applause from all present can be heard throughout the hall, while you watch as Aemond smiles politely throughout as he walks up to the stage and makes his way to stand next to her, who also claps in his direction and watches him proudly.

And so together they appear confident and authoritative, as if they own the whole place, while Aemond waves and thanks the whole audience at the same time.

Then the applause fades and Alys speaks again.

"It is also an honor to announce before all of you, a collaboration of our two companies," she says proudly, "Since I first met Aemond, his vision and ethics impressed me deeply. We have shared many conversations and have discovered that our companies have common goals and values."

Aemond at her side nods in approval and continues.

"Our companies, Riverlands Group and Targaryen Incorporation have been at the forefront of financial innovation for years. So we have decided to join forces to empower our organizations."

Then Alys says something else, but you don't pay attention as Otto Hightower again speaks in your direction.

"Now you see?"

He says to you and you again feel that sharp pain in your chest as you turn your gaze to Alys and Aemond.

"That's the way things should be, the two of them together, a perfect complementation," he says confidently, "Even all the people here are pleased to see them together, the press too, that's what they expect, not a coffee shop employee next to the next head of the most important company in the country."

Each of his words and also the ones from before are like a dagger to your heart, feeling sadness, shame, humiliation and anguish.

The feeling is horrible, especially because you see how again all the people applaud for the two of them and the press starts taking pictures of the two of them together, while you feel trapped in a whirlwind of negative emotions that consumes you completely.

You watch as Aemond doesn't approach her at all, but she does, placing one of her hands on his arm, smiling and posing for the cameras, while you watch as Aemond tries to subtly pull away from her, but she won't let him.

You also know he won't say anything to her at that moment, not when the eyes of everyone in the place are on them and so are the cameras, so they continue to pose for more pictures to be taken.

"Enjoy the rest of the night."

Otto tells you with the fakest look and words of all, watching you for one last time then turning away from you and back to the crowd, complacently watching the show his grandson is putting on along with Alys Rivers.

And when you watch him walk away, at that moment you notice it again, the stares of the women.

This time you see how they and their husbands look in your direction, with curious looks and others with equally mocking looks, whispering among themselves, all of them watching you from head to toe, making you feel even worse.

They make you feel as if you are an intruder, as if you are the one who is wrong to be here, as if you are not Aemond's girlfriend and instead they accept Alys, looking at you as the bad guy, even with pity.

Then you feel you can't take it anymore and decide you've had enough.

Completely humiliated, you turn away from the bar and start looking all over the place for Cole, who you find at the main entrance along with more security guards, heading towards him quickly.

"Ms. Y/N?"

He says to you as you stand in front of him.

"Can you take me home?" you ask or rather plead, "I'm not feeling well."

"Do you need me to get you something?" he asks you instantly, willing.

"No, just take me home, please."

"Of course but Mr. Targaryen knows?"

"Yes," you lie, "You'll have to come back to pick him up."

Finally you convince him and both of you go to the door where you entered instead of the main door since the press is still outside.

And not having the courage or the spirit to say goodbye to anyone, not even Helaena, you finally leave the place.

Meanwhile Aemond continues taking pictures and enduring the flash of the cameras every second, slyly taking Rivers' hands off him, acting unconcerned and willing when inside he wants it all to be over.

When in the middle of all the commotion, he catches a perfect glimpse of your figure walking out of the event through the doors he asked you to enter with Cole by your side, without even looking back, this catching his attention and confusing him instantly.

He is about to apologize to quickly go after you, not liking that at all, feeling a bad feeling, starting to worry, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

"They want to take pictures of the whole family together."

He turns his head and finds his grandfather, whom he instantly watches attentively and curiously.

He watches all the people around him for a moment as everything is a mess as everyone wants to take pictures and videos, but in the end he leans over to talk to him, trying to create privacy.

"Why did Y/N leave?"

"She leave?" he repeats acting surprised and confused, "I don't know, son. I didn't even notice. Now come on."

"I saw you talking to her," he tells him instantly, insistent.

"We didn't really talk much, now come on, this is important."

He tells him also serious and insistent, making him stand still for the press to start taking pictures of the two of them with Alys Rivers and Larys Strong, then the whole Targaryen family and so on with other businessmen.

But all the time Aemond is not calm, not at all.

Until after a while he sees Cole re-enter the hall, so he quickly makes his way towards him.

"Where is Y/N?" he asks him with bewilderment in his eyes and in his tone of voice, concerned.

Cole frowns.

"Sir, she said she was feeling sick and wanted me to take her home."

"And why didn't you tell me?" he snaps at him instantly, slightly annoyed.

"I'm sorry Sir, but she said you knew."

And at that moment Aemond knows that's definitely not good.

He lets out a long breath and runs a hand over his face, beginning to feel frustrated, only to have his mother walk over to him at that moment and take him with her to have a conversation with the Arryn's, reluctantly having to stay, feeling uneasy every moment as he wants this all to be over so he can come to you.

But the night is far from over.

And it is not until two hours later that people begin to say goodbye to leave, so Aemond takes advantage and also decides to leave, since he sent you severe messages at certain times but you did not respond to any, this stressing him and worrying him more.

So once he is able to leave, he quickly together with Cole start to leave the hall, but Eleonor hurriedly stops him.

"I'm sorry Sir, but aren't you supposed to stay? Here I have the card for the suite you asked me to book," she raises the card in her hand, looking at him confused.

Aemond feels a sharp pain in his chest, not having the slightest idea what happened with you as to decide to leave without telling him anything, but he knows it's no good, besides the fact that his grandfather's attitude seemed suspicious to him.

And he can't help but feel annoyed.

He knows you haven't spent any time together and he thought it would be a good idea to book a suite for the two of you without telling you anything, wanting it to be a surprise, but now it's all ruined and he doesn't even know why.

"No, Y/N is gone," he tells her with frustration visible all over his body and gaze, "You use it or cancel it or whatever, it doesn't matter anymore."

And without further ado he resumes his walk, wanting to get to you as soon as possible.

You hate the loneliness in which you find yourself.

When you get to the apartment, you want to leave immediately, thinking for a moment that you should have asked Cole to drop you off at Floris or Sarah's house.

You put on your sleeping clothes and take your pillow and a sheet to go back to the living room and get comfortable on the huge couch, wanting to sleep and forget about everything.

In fact that's what you think now, maybe call one of them and ask them to pick you up. But the hour is already late and you don't want to bother them.

So the only thing you do is to take off your make-up and your dress where at all times you still feel the discomfort and humiliation running through your whole body, feeling also a helplessness.

But unfortunately that's not what happens.

What happens is that you can no longer control all the feelings and emotions you felt since Aemond asked you to enter the event through other doors and you finally let it all out, starting to cry silently even though you are alone.

You don't know how long you last like that but you cry until you fall asleep, hugging one of the couch cushions tightly in the darkness of the huge apartment.

Some time later Aemond finally arrives home, so in a hurry he rushes into the apartment with all his anguished and worried look on his face, wanting to see you and talk to you, heading purposefully into the bedroom.

But he definitely didn't expect to find you asleep on the living room couch.

Never before have either of you had the need and desire to sleep apart, not even after having a fight, so surprise comes over him and he watches you sound asleep there… on the couch instead of the bed.

He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what has happened, and doesn't know what to think.

He understands that you were very upset with him for what he asked you to do so that is one reason, also Rivers' colored dress, but what happened next?

He doesn't know and he's very frustrated that he doesn't know, he's also frustrated by the whole situation.

And he can't stand it. He can't stand seeing you lying there asleep, not wanting to sleep with him.

He takes off his jacket without taking his eye off you at all times, leaving it on the back of the single couch and carefully walks over to you, where again his heart breaks at the sight of the dried tears on your cheeks and also the cushion you are hugging wetly.

Immediately he feels guilty, so gently, he kneels beside you and watches you for a few seconds sadly, asleep in a ball, with an expression of exhaustion on your face.

You blink then carve your eyes, getting used to the night light to try to see, when Aemond's cologne hits your nostrils and you look up at him over your face with a confused expression.

He swallows hard and leans over you to hold you in his arms gently and carry you to bed without waking you. He puts one arm under your knees and the other under your back, trying to lift you gently.

But because of the movement and also from feeling his hands on your body, you wake up.

"What are you doing?" you ask him sleepily.

"I'm putting you to bed, love."

You frown and immediately place your whole body hard and tense, removing his hands from your body.

"No, I want to stay here."

He lets out a long breath.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

"No."

"Love, please."

"I already told you no, Aemond."

You tell him in a more serious and completely annoyed tone, as he watches sadly and worriedly as you make your intention clear and again cover yourself with the sheet, turning your back on him with your annoyed expression.

He feels more the anguish of being this way with you, the feelings of frustration and loneliness taking hold of him, feeling helpless in the face of the situation.

He misses you completely, your closeness, mutual support and communication, because this just makes everything even worse, not being able to work things out, you leaving his side, having this physical and emotional distance.

Aemond feels like the person he loves is slipping through his fingers and there is nothing he can do to stop it.

"Y/N please," he insists once again, hating the situation and the feelings it brings, "Let's go to bed, you know I won't be able to fall asleep without you by my side."

"Let me sleep," you tell him seriously and curtly, still turning your back to him.

"Love."

Aemond calls you one last time, feeling the negative emotions invade him even more at that moment, feeling hopeless, but he stops when he sees that you are firm with your decision and he can't do anything about it, feeling more constant the sharp pain in his chest.

And so you ignore him, trying to go back to sleep.

So Aemond has no choice but to heartbrokenly retreat to the bedroom and leave you alone in the living room.

The next morning, the horrible sound of your alarm wakes you up, telling you that you have to get ready for work.

Not having slept enough the night before and remembering everything that happened, you're annoyed and defeated as you lie there for a few minutes staring at the ceiling, not having the energy for anything at all.

But knowing that you can't afford to miss work, you have no choice but to get up.

However, it strikes you that the coffee pot in the kitchen is not on, because even though Aemond has the day off, he still locks himself in his office to get a lot of his work done, and coffee is essential for him to be more productive.

So curious and cautious, you head to the room, seeing that the door is open.

And when you slowly peek your head out, you see Aemond on the edge of the bed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, looking in a tired state and as if he hadn't slept all night.

You press your lips together, as you don't want to talk about what happened, at least not yet. But you know that avoiding it won't be easy.

You know it when Aemond catches a glimpse of your slowly moving figure out of the corner of his eye, so he raises his gaze and his eye looks directly into yours.

You instantly react, avert your gaze from him and head to the closet with a hurried step to grab clean clothes while he watches you attentively and pleadingly at all times, wanting this silence and tension between the two of you to end.

"Y/N—

He couldn't sleep all night and the restlessness so far hasn't left him alone, so he's exhausted and doesn't plan to do any work today because he simply can't.

But he wants to try to fix about last night.

He calls softly to you in a careful tone but you quickly cut him off.

"I'm going to shower."

You say hurriedly but with no encouragement in your voice and quickly walk past him, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you, leaving him alone with those bad thoughts in his mind, letting out a sigh as he brings his hands to his face, frustrated and tired.

It's not until an hour after you finish getting ready to leave for work that you see Aemond in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of water, finding it strange that he's not locked in his office, but you don't ask him anything about it.

And when you finish making sure you bring all your stuff in your bag, like your phone, keys and wallet, Aemond watches you cautiously throughout, still feeling that weight on his shoulders and that ache in his chest for not being on good terms with you.

"I can drive you."

He tells you suddenly, softly and in a calm voice, this catching your attention but you don't even notice him, instantly hurrying to get out of the apartment soon.

"It's okay. I don't want to slow you down at work."

"I'm not going to work today," he lets you know, this surprising you, but you hide it and don't react.

But you still reject him.

"There's no need. Don't worry."

And so you head for the door, walking out of the apartment, leaving him behind.

This of course hurts Aemond, as you've never turned him down on this sort of thing before, feeling really bad.

Still he later texts you asking if you need him to pick you up, but again you turn him down telling him that Sophie, your co-worker, will do you the favor, when in fact you take the bus.

And once you get home, there is still this tension and silence between the two of you, which feels horrible, but above all it feels more horrible to Aemond, who even though he tries to talk to you about it, you don't let him, cutting him off instantly, excusing yourself with other things.

That night you sleep in bed together with him, relieving him that he didn't want to go another full night without sleep, but you both sleep completely apart, not touching each other.

That's unusual, he's just never been through anything like that before and of course he hugs you and tries to talk to you in the comfort of your bed, but you don't respond to his touch.

You let him hug you but you don't hug him back, turning your back on him, making it clear that you don't want to be that way with him. So he can only let out a sigh and pull away, respecting your decision and your space even though it hurts.

But he can't take this anymore.

The next day at work he goes looking for his grandfather, serious and willing, entering his office without knocking and closing the door without much tact, watching him with annoyance all over his face.

Otto Hightower looks up from some papers on his desk and embodies an eyebrow at him, expectant and slightly confused.

"Can I help you?"

"What did you say to Y/N?

He inquires her instantly, getting straight to the point, serious and annoyed. But of course, Otto Hightower feigns an innocent expression on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me," he warns, "I know you talked to her and I want to know what you told her."

"Aemond," he lets out a sigh, "If you're having problems with your girlfriend, you don't want to try to get me in on your fights—

"It's no coincidence that she left that fucking event right after I saw her talking to you, so tell me what it was you said to her," he demands again, more serious than before.

Otto shakes his head, even with the innocent expression lingering.

"I told you we didn't even talk much. We just talked about your future, the things you're accomplishing and in the end I told her to enjoy the rest of the night, that's all. So maybe you should be more concerned about why your dear girlfriend walks out of a very important event for you leaving you alone, like she doesn't care."

Aemond can't help the frustration and anger that begins to grow inside him.

"I know you're lying."

"You're misunderstanding things."

"She's not talking to me! She's upset and I don't even know why, she doesn't want to tell me!" he exclaims angrily, completely losing his patience.

And his grandfather just watches him silently with a serious look, not saying anything else to him and this causing more frustration and annoyance to Aemond who quickly walks towards him, placing his hands on his desk and leaning towards him with a threatening face.

"I don't know what happened but I know you said things to her," he makes it clear, his tone serious, "You made me hurt her to not only ruin the night for me, but for her as well—

"Aemond—

"Or what?" he interrupts him as well, not letting him speak, "You think I don't know all the effort you're putting into trying to further increase the rumors between Rivers and I with the press? In how you're interfering between me and her by getting Rivers in the way? And all because you don't want to lose a fucking association with a company at the cost of ruining my relationship?"

Otto Hightower slowly rises from his chair, watching him just as seriously and menacingly.

"An association that believe me you don't want to lose either, Aemond."

He makes it clear to him slowly, with an obvious and equally menacing look, leaving Aemond silent for a moment.

"We could never partner with Dorne, so partnering with Riverlands is all we have left, because after all, before long you'll be the new boss or am I wrong?"

"If you lose it… it could cost us millions," he reminds him slowly and clearly, "And you risk not only your own future as an businessman, but the future of all of us, your family, the partnerships with the other companies, the employees and the legacy we've built. And obviously I can't allow that to fall apart."

He inquires and Aemond swallows hard, feeling a knot in his stomach, knowing full well that his father's health is getting worse every day.

And everyone knows, his mother, his brothers, uncles, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, everyone… that it's only a matter of time.

"But there are other ways, there are—

Aemond shrugs and clenches his hands tightly into fists as Otto watches him harshly, the room feeling charged with tension.

"We will go bankrupt, Aemond! What don't you understand!?"

Explodes Otto furiously.

""Your father left a lot of work pending since he got sick and now you are his successor, which you are lucky that I am breaking my back for you to help you, to save from now on your reputation and the company that will be under your command when the time comes. And that you don't want to help me in the same way for not learning to separate personal relationships from your work, is not my problem."

"We will go into crisis if we don't get Riverlands, we will lose income, we will have a lot of debt, our companies in Oldtown, Lannisport, Stom's End, in the Vale and in Winterfell we will lose them. And Riverlands has partnerships in Essos as well as Dorne, so understand what's at stake," he continues in a harsh tone, "Do you want Helaena to lose Highgarden and Winterfell or your mother to stop running the company in Oldtown? Do you really want to lose everything we've built? Is that what you want to happen, Aemond?"

Aemond's heart begins to pound, he lowers his gaze and with his jaw clenched he thinks about it, he feels anxiety and deep bewilderment. He thinks of his sister, his mother, his brothers, his whole family, everything they have built.

Otto's words echo in his head in a constant echo and suddenly… he feels trapped, cornered in his own life, helpless.

At that moment he craves a respite, that need for peace, he needs you by his side, the woman he loves and the one who can give him that comfort zone.

But you are not there, everything suddenly feels lost and he also feels that everything is wrong, and he is instantly overcome with frustration, sadness, anger and an overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

Aemond really clings to his own determination, determined not to give in to his grandfather's threats, but he knows he's right about everything about the company and his family. And he really feels trapped, because he doesn't know what to do about Alys Rivers and her company.

So he can only place a bitter smile and shake his head, his mind a mess.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

He tells her as he begins to walk away from him, starting to pace around the room slowly as he runs a hand over his face, placing it on his chin.

"You leave all this burden to me, because you want to take advantage of me just like what you did with Aegon and Cassandra."

Otto rolls his eyes, watching him just as annoyed and bored as before.

"If you don't want to learn how to work this kind of thing out's, I don't understand why you're going to be the next boss."

"No, of course I can work this kind of thing out," he makes it clear, serious, watching him annoyed, "Just not in this dirty way."

"Alys Rivers is a very demanding, perfectionist and exacting person, just like her uncle. So if she wants to try to maintain an intimate relationship with you, you're going to let her, for the good of the company. Or at least pretend, pretend you're interested in her too so you can sign that fucking paper once and for all."

Aemond looks at him completely disgusted, badly and with a scowl on his face, watching him as if he doesn't know him.

"You are… completely disgusting."

"I'm teaching you how to survive in all of this and also how to keep the company afloat," he makes it clear to him, his other way of looking at things.

"You only think about yourself, money and reputation. You don't care about my feelings, my relationship and that I'm hurting Y/N."

"No, I don't care, because the company is not going to sustain itself otherwise," he tells him simply, nonchalantly, "And if your girlfriend can't understand this, your job, your future and that we can't fail, then I don't understand why you're still with her. You have to make sacrifices in order to live, and that's something you better start understanding now."

Yes… Aemond knows he will have to make sacrifices. It's the first thing his father told him since it was ruled that he would be the Heir.

But Aemond told himself from the beginning that if those sacrifices were his family or his relationship with you, he will go to great lengths to keep his family out of it and you too, because he is not willing to lose you.

He wants to be worthy of you, treat you like you deserve, give you the world and keep you by his side, because the last thing he wants because of his desperate grandfather and a reckless woman is for the relationship to no longer work.

He knows it won't be easy, but he will do the impossible.

Although… the breaking point is near.

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@melsunshine @n4forlife @iamavailablesstuff @ttkttt @elliaze @trshngyn @tsujifreya @imsoshygirl @watercolorskyy @kckt88 @zenka69 @yentroucnagol @crispmarshmallow @bellastwd @queenofshinigamis @strangersunghoon @happinessinthebeing

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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humanpurposes · 7 months

Text

De Facto

She can't afford to fantasize over Aemond Targaryen, he's her boss and the Prime Minister... but stopping is easier said than done // Main Masterlist

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of SA, questionable power dynamics, politics (putting my degree to good use), unnecessary world building

Words: 7700

A/n: Thanks for the inspo @ewanmitchellcrumbs, sorry it's not Dishy Rishi tho :(

Throughout the whole train journey into Central King’s Landing, she’s sure she’s dreaming. Her body feels strangely light, her hands are restless and her heart is beating steadily in her chest.

She flows effortlessly with the stream of commuters, along the platform, through the station’s glass atrium, then left towards Conquest Street. She knows her way around this part of the city already, and though she’s never been inside, she’s walked past Hightower House countless times.

This time is different. Now she walks up to the iron gates, pressing her thumbnail into her index finger, because the armed guards are making her nervous.

She tells them her name and one of them mutters into a radio.

Her eyes run along the gold crest that marks the gate, a shield divided into seven, a sun for Dorne, a rose for The Reach, a stag for The Stormlands, a Trout for The Riverlands, a Falcon for The Vale, a Kraken for The Iron Islands, a wolf for The North, and at its heart is the symbol that unites them, the three headed dragon (although strictly speaking, Westeros abolished its monarchy centuries ago).

Suddenly one of the guards catches her attention. He opens the gate for her, and says she’ll be given a security pass and instructions to use the staff entrance following her official induction.

Hightower House stands proudly before her, an ornate facade of balustrades and columns, order and symmetry, an obvious juxtaposition of the medieval majesty of the Red Keep, just down the road.

It all feels very daunting, but the last five years have led her to this moment, the entirety of her adult life. She keeps telling herself that she deserves to be here, after all, she was the one who made it through the first round of applications, who made it to the shortlist and the final interviews, and she was the only one of hundreds of applicants who received the phone call, offering her a position as a personal advisor to the Prime Minister.

The contract only lasts two years, but it is the most effective stepping stone into a career in politics that she could ever ask for.

The entire morning is spent working out formalities. First she meets the deputy chief of staff, a handsome man named Criston Cole, who she’ll directly report to. He shows her through mountains of paperwork and gives her a brief overview of her role. Essentially, she is to assist the Prime Minister on whatever he deems necessary, policy aims, speeches, media coverage, political rhetoric, public image.

“You’re a glorified assistant,” Cole says as she reads and signs page after page of her employment contract, “but with a salary to reflect it, so don’t feel discouraged. There will be some admin work which can get tedious, but you’ve been selected for your expertise and your passion for the party.”

That’s the crucial part of the job. Everything she does will be to benefit Mr Targayren as head of the Green Party, still running off the high of their victory at the last general election, just under a year ago.

She signs her last signature triumphantly, despite the ache in her wrist, and hands the pen back to Cole with a smile. “All done?” she asks hopefully.

Cole grimaces sympathetically. “Not quite.”

There are four people to meet before she’s officially in. She takes a deep breath to soothe herself. It’s all just more formalities, which she can understand, given the weight of this job.

The first is the Prime Minister's private secretary, a glamorous woman with black hair and piercing green eyes, named Alys Rivers. She greets her warmly, having already spoken over the phone with her several times. She also knows her CV off by heart. It’s a little strange having someone know almost everything about her education and employment history when her face is unfamiliar.

The next is a young woman named Maris, the other of Mr Targaryen’s personal advisors. She has dark hair and a look of determination in her grey eyes. She explains that there are always two personal advisors, but hired on alternating years. She was hired at the start of Mr Targaryen’s premiership, and has a year left of her contract.

There are a thousand questions she wants to ask Maris, but before she can even scratch the surface, Cole’s checking his watch and dragging her off to another office.

Otto Hightower is the chief of staff. He’s thin and wiry, but incredibly intimidating. He has tired, sunken eyes that seem to glare right through her, and a passive but severe expression on his face, as though he’s scrutinising, having already decided she’s a waste of his time.

It’s not a great feeling, being looked at like that by a man she’s idolised for years. She knows his career timeline by heart. He earned his bachelors in Politics and Economics from Oldtown, before doing a masters in International Relations at King’s Landing, where he met and befriended Viserys Targaryen. He worked his way to becoming an MP and soon into Viserys’ cabinet when be became Prime Minister.

But things changed when Otto’s daughter married Viserys. No one really knows the whole truth, but Otto resigned from the Black Party, and took over from his own brother as leader of the opposition.

Now he works in the background, the mastermind behind his grandson’s remarkable successes.

Cole explains that Mr Hightower had the final say in the shortlist and determining which applicant would be given the final job offer.

“You had an impressive application,” he says, briefly looking up from a document. “I’m sure you’ll do well with us.”

“Thank you, Mr Hightower,” she says through the slight tremble in her jaw.

Other than that, the interaction is brief, and soon Cole is ushering her out of the room, back to Alys’ office, as richly decorated as the rest of the building. Maris is sitting at another desk, typing away furiously on a laptop.

“Tea? Coffee? Water?” Cole offers her, gesturing for her to take a seat on a green leather sofa.

“Water would be lovely,” she says.

“Maris,” he calls.

She glares up from her laptop. “That’s not my job.”

“No, but it’s courtesy,” he says.

Alys’ slight smirk doesn’t escape her attention.

Maris purses her lips, but she closes her laptop, pointedly slams her hands against the arms of her chair, and marches out of the room, her shiny black heels clicking against the dark wood floor.

“She’s nice really,” Cole says, “just a bit… direct at times.”

“Direct,” Alys groans to herself.

She feels her brow flicker into a frown but stops herself.

“She’s good at her job,” Criston says like he might say something else, but he doesn’t.

When Maris returns, she seems a little less on edge.

She takes the glass of water with a cautious hand, Maris’ eyes lingering on her maroon painted nails.

“I like your top,” Maris says.

She glances down. It’s nothing special, black and long-sleeved, to go with her long blue and green patterned skirt.

“Thank you,” she says.

Maris hums to herself before she goes back to her desk.

“Do you often work in here?” she asks.

Maris shrugs. “It depends.” She doesn’t care to explain further.

Alys is smirking again.

“Mr Targaryen was in a meeting with the cabinet this morning,” Cole says, then checks his watch. “He has a few phone calls to make, but he should be ready to see you at about 4pm. Maris?”

“Yes?”

“Will you show her in around then?”

“Yeah,” she says, flatly, “of course.”

Cole shakes her hand before he leaves. “Alys will show you out when you leave. I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

She continues to wait on the sofa, restless in the silence that follows once the door has shut. Alys and Maris are both typing, their nails clicking against their keyboards. She starts to bounce her leg and stops herself.

Her mind is racing. The day seems to have gone well so far, but what if she meets Mr Targaryen and it all falls apart? What if he decides he doesn’t like her and sends her packing?

She’s too lost in her own head to notice the flash of Alys’ emerald green dress as she stands in front of her. That is, until she’s leaning down and waving a bar of chocolate in front of her. “Get a bit of sugar in you,” she says, “and breathe slowly.”

She smiles as she takes the bar and places a single cube on her tongue. She lets it melt, savouring the sweetness and the slight bitterness of its taste.

You can do this, she thinks to herself with every inhale. And then she exhales. You are here for a reason.

The phone on Alys’ desk rings. She checks her own phone. It’s exactly 3:59.

“Yes, sir, Maris will show her in now.”

Aemond Targaryen is on the other end of the line. Her heart drops at the thought.

As the second son of Viserys, it seems like he was always destined for the family business. He differs from his father and grandfather in that he did Politics and Philosophy at Sunspear, before going on to do his masters in History at Oldtown, and then another masters in International Relations at King’s Landing. By all accounts, he is fiercely intelligent, mature beyond his years, with the right balance of intimidating and charismatic to command the support he needed to get in as MP for Rosby, then as party leader.

In fact, it had been his first campaign that inspired her to apply for a degree in politics in the first place. She loved how he spoke, how he managed to strike a balance between grace and passion, and how deeply he cared for his policies. He was poised and perfect, but driven by a genuine want for improvement.

He perfected his craft within a matter of years. With the mess Rhaenyra Targaryen had made of the country, it was all too easy for him to win a majority with a few winning speeches, a hand running through his silver hair, that lazy half-smirk and the intense look in his eyes that just made you want to fall at his feet. And people do. The press adore him, his party worships him, foreign dignitaries often remark on his charm but also his capabilities as a negotiator and a leader.

Maris leads her out of the office, along a quiet corridor. She stops outside a door with gold lettering: Office of A. Targaryen, Prime Minister

Seeing it in front of her, strangely, seems to subdue her nerves. Her chest flutters, but the anxiety is more manageable than before.

Maris taps her knuckles against the door three times.

From the other side of the door she hears a gentle but chilling voice. “Enter.”

She follows Maris inside.

He’s perched against his desk, his long, silver hair falling around his shoulders as he looks over a few pieces of paper. He wears a white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, black slacks and brown leather shoes.

He looks up slowly, the light of the early Autumn evening beaming through the windows, over the sharp features of his face, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his neck.

His eyes find hers, unashamed and curious.

Suddenly she can feel her heart in her throat.

Maris introduces her. “I’m sure Alys already debriefed you, but she’s here for her induction. Cole said you wanted to meet her as a formality and–”

It feels awfully like she’s talking for the sake of it.

“That will be all, Maris,” Mr Targaryen says softly. She can’t help but watch the way his lips move when he speaks.

“Oh, are you sure, sir?” she asks. Her face is twisted into a slight frown but her eyes are wide. “I just thought, for her sake, it might be useful if I’m here to explain everything.”

“I’m sure, thank you.”

She stands with her hands clasped in front of her skirt as she listens to Maris’ footsteps move towards the door. It opens and closes, and now all she can hear are her own breaths, gently flowing through her nose.

She doesn’t know where to look. At the patterned carpet on the floor? No, it would be rude of her to hang her head. At the portraits that line the wall? At the bookshelves? At the desk? No, that all seems too intrusive. Out the window? No, that might seem like she’s not paying attention.

So her eyes settle on him.

He hasn’t moved from his position, but he’s placed the paper on the desk behind him, leaning with his palms at the edge. His eyes glance over her once, up and down.

Fuck, he’s so much better looking in person.

Then he stands to his full height, and picks up a clipboard from the desk. He flicks through a few of the pages and hums softly to himself.

“You had an impressive application,” he says.

She swallows through the slightly dry feeling in her throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“And an excellently written cover letter.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You did your masters in Comparative Politics at Sunspear. Oberyen Martell is still head of faculty there, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. He taught one of my modules, Security Studies.”

“He’s an interesting character,” he muses, smiling to himself. “He was my supervisor for my undergrad dissertation.”

She already knew that. Dr Martell loved to go on about his star student. She would too if she taught the future Prime Minister.

He flicks to another page. She watches as his eyes skim over the words in front of him. “And you came with glowing reviews from Tyland Lannister.”

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to respond to that– it makes her sound more like a product than a person– so she just smiles, as delicately as she can, making sure not to squint her eyes too much.

She had spent the last year as Mr Lannister’s Parliamentary Assistant, at his office in the Red Keep, starting just as he had been appointed as Foreign Secretary.

“How was he as a boss?” Mr Targayren asks.

Straightforward, she thinks. He took his job seriously and was decidedly not a fan of smalltalk. His office often worked in silence, and even when he was stressed he was efficient.

“No complaints,” she says.

“I’m sure you were all kept busy, cleaning up Corlys Velaryon’s mess after the Stepstones.”

A minor military excursion to defend a few key trading routes, or at least that’s how it had started. Within a matter of months the Stepstones had spiralled beyond control, costing Corlys Velaryon his seat and the Blacks their majority in Parliament.

“If I remember right, it was Daemon Targaryen pushing that particular policy,” she says.

The corner of his mouth curls upward. It could be a smile but she’s not entirely sure.

“Sir,” she adds, hoping to soften the blow of her unintentional insult; what idiot tries to correct the Prime Minister on their first day on the job? She does, clearly.

He doesn’t seem irritated or angry, more amused. A cryptic “hmm” sounds in his throat as he flicks back to the first document. “And before that you were a campaign manager for the party, yes?”

“Yes,” she says brightly, grateful for the change of subject. “I was working in the Stormlands in the lead up to the general election.” The region was formerly a Black stronghold, but turned Green thanks in part to her efforts.

“Excellent work,” he says.

The smooth, seductive tone of his voice seems to come so naturally to him. She bites her tongue at the image it prompts in her head, of his lips brushing over her ear, his hands resting on her waist, she can almost feel it–

No. That’s wrong. So wrong.

Fantasising about the Prime Minister of Westeros is not a habit she can afford to keep up, not when she’s supposed to be working with him in such close proximity.

But that’s easier said than done.

Cole enters his office, bright and early on Monday morning, before the rest of Hightower House is awake.

Aemond’s routine is the same every day. Up at 5am, run a few laps of the expansive gardens or spend an hour going through his meticulously planned gym routine. He showers, shaves, applies his skincare and haircare products, dabs some perfume on his wrists, dresses, and takes breakfast and a black coffee in his office. By 7:30am he’s ready to work.

He needs the routines and the outlets. They help keep him sane.

He’d seen how this position twisted his father into a tired, irritable and irrational man, how it got to Rhaenyra’s head until she became a liability to herself. He won’t be like them. He has a reputation to uphold, a legacy to claim.

Cole places a folder on his desk. “The background check you ordered, sir.”

He thanks him, quietly and sincerely, and waits until he’s left the room to open the folder.

His new personal advisor intrigues him. He’d made the request for the background check as soon as their meeting had ended on Friday.

She has no criminal record, which is unsurprising, that definitely would have come up sooner if she had one.

He browses through her education history, a star student at Storm’s End Grammar School, a bachelor’s in history from Rainwood, a masters from Suspear, where she was head of Debate Soc and Amnesty International, while working various internships and retail jobs in between.

The next page is full of articles from student publications, The Importance of Integrity in Politics for the Rainwood Student Journal, Sovereignty in the Stepstones for Red Sun Rising. He reads through them both. Her writing is immaculate, concise and convincing.

The final page is more personal, social media profiles. It’s nothing scandalous, but she clearly has a certain image she wants to project. Her Instagram is full of art and history museums, coffee shops and preppy outfits. She has a few pictures on her LinkedIn of her at the Green Party conference last year, pictured with a group of girls her age and a caption that talks about the importance of representation in politics, with links to various charities and initiatives. In the photo she’s wearing a white silk shirt, open just enough to show off a dainty gold necklace and a hint of the swell of her chest.

She seems perfect. Too perfect for his own good.

The first months go smoothly enough.

Maris is a practical person. She’s good with numbers, good for bouncing off ideas for economic policies and analysing data for him, even if she is a little overbearing at times.

But she fills the gaps perfectly. He secretly looks forward to their meetings and debriefings, when he asks her to write or edit speeches for him, or run through questions with him before a press conference. Politics is never easy, but she has a remarkable talent for keeping a level head. He likes that she’s always calm and composed. He likes her soft, reassuring smiles and the sharp look in her eyes.

They just click. She’s always switched on, always knows the right things to say and do, always knows what he needs.

Every moment they are alone feels monumental; the settled quiet of his office when she first walks in and takes a seat on the other side of his desk; when they make an exchange, debriefing papers for an empty coffee cup, and their fingers will brush over each other; when he stands over her shoulder to read the document she’s working on, close enough to smell her perfume and feel a heat simmering under his skin. It’s starting to become unbearable, and yet he craves that feeling.

And then, one morning, he gets a phone call from the Crownlands Messenger. They’re about to publish a story. His brother has been accused of inappropriate conduct by no less than three women.

Fucking Aegon.

The entire country is in an uproar. How can anyone trust their Parliamentary representatives when they do shit like this? Is Aegon an outlier or is this just scratching the surface? What will his punishment be? What else are the Greens hiding?

There are hundreds of emergency meetings with his grandfather, tense phone calls, bearating headlines, and onslaughts of outrage online. There’s no question about it, Aegon has to resign as an MP, but the damage is done. The polls are turning Black instead of Green. People don’t trust the ruling party, or its leader.

It’s late. Aemond paces his office while a headache pulses in his head. He’s long ditched the coffee for whisky, swirling it about in his glass. He sent Maris home hours ago. He doesn’t have the patience for anyone at the moment. Except for the woman leaning against his desk, flicking through news articles and the pages of notes she’s prepared for him.

Tomorrow is PMQs. No doubt there’s only one topic the Blacks will be asking about. He can already see Rhaenyra and Daemon’s smug faces, the delight they’ll take in watching him fall apart. There’s just no way he’s getting out of this easily.

He feels so restless. His hands are trembling and his lips won’t seem to stop moving, so he places himself against the wall, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes another generous sip.

From the desk he hears a heavy sigh that hums slightly in her throat. “Is there anything else you want to go over, sir?” she asks.

“No, I think we’ve exhausted the hypotheticals,” he says, running his free hand through his hair. He resists the urge to pull at the roots, to take his frustration out on something. “It’s just– fuck’s sake, I’ve been saying Aegon’s a liability for years. But no, Otto always wanted to keep pushing for him. Said it was good for the family’s image.”

She places her phone and the document behind her, and takes a few steps towards him.

He glances down at her, at the way the low light of the lamps and the fireplace glows against her skin, the contented sort of look in her eyes.

Her eyes flicker down at his now empty glass. “Refill, sir?” Her lips stay slightly parted once she stops speaking.

Then he realises he’s staring.

“No, thank you,” he mutters, tapping his finger against the glass. “I should probably stop now.”

She takes the glass from him with her middle finger and thumb, avoiding touching his hand before she takes it away. Maybe it’s the alcohol getting to his head but his heart sinks at the lack of contact.

What is he doing? It must be after 9pm now and he’s still keeping her here without a real reason.

She’s standing by the drinks cabinet, carefully placing the crystal bottle of whisky away and setting the empty glass out for housekeeping to clean up in the morning.

Instead of thinking about her, the way her hair looks, the way her skirt hugs her waist and the curve of her backside and thighs, he tries to think about how much he hates Aegon. This only makes him more agitated.

He closes his eyes and throws his head against the wall. His heart is racing and there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s craving something, not another drink, not a smoke (he quit once he was first elected as an MP). He wants something else, something dangerous and damning.

The heels of her shoes tap softly against the floor, until she’s standing in front of him.

He opens his eyes.

She frowns slightly before lifting her hand and delicately placing it on his shoulder. “You need to relax, sir,” she says.

He lets out a low “hmm,” as he weighs out his options. This seems like a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

“That’s not going to happen with you here,” he says.

Her calm, somewhat smug expression falls. She looks so innocent now, so sweet. “What does that mean?” she says.

He leans in closer to her, until the tip of his nose barely brushes against hers. “I think you know what it means, darling.”

She hesitates, before her mouth spreads into an eager smile that shows off her teeth.

Her hands find his, ensnaring him under a soft but commanding grip. She leads him away from the wall, to the sofa by the fireplace.

He settles on it, leaning against the arm as she comes to her knees before him, spreading his legs apart to make room for herself.

She palms her hand over the hardness that’s been straining painfully against his trousers for hours now. She feels along his clothed cock, pressing her cheek against it and gazing up at him with a look of teasing innocence.

Aemond knows he is done for, jaw slack, chest rising and falling as he breathes. He would have never presumed he would find himself in this kind of position, not after all the work’s he’s had to do cleaning up the mess of Aegon’s fuck ups, not after working this hard to get where he is, and least of all because he believes himself to be a decent man.

But he doesn’t stop her as her fingers undo the button and the zip on his trousers, and he doesn’t make any kind of protest as she takes his freed cock in her hand and teasingly strokes along it.

He keeps his hands firmly on the sofa, digging his fingertips and his nails into the leather, as if he hasn’t been dreaming of having her like this for weeks, as if he hasn’t fucked his own hand countless times pretending it was her.

He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. He looks down, his jaw slack, barely containing his strained breaths, and there she is, doe-eyed and eager as she places a delicate kiss to his flushed tip. Her lips barely brush against him before she pulls away, keeping a hold at the base.

His arousal stains her mouth and she fucking grins.

“Enjoying yourself?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she says, sweetly, earnestly.

He runs his hand against her hair, gently, as if trying to soothe her. It seems to take her by surprise which only serves to excite him further.

She leans into his touch, lips parting, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy.

Until he grips his fist and pulls. He tilts her head up. It shouldn’t hurt, but it’s enough to bring her attention back to him.

He decides he won’t tell her what to do, not directly, but she’s a smart girl, she knows what he wants.

With her eyes wide again, she opens her mouth and inches his cock past her lips. The tightness in his gut starts to burn as she works up and down his length, slowly– excruciatingly slowly. It’s not in anyway relaxing, he thinks, but it’s a nice kind of torture.

He loses himself to the warmth and the wetness of her mouth, her tongue running over the underside of his cock, her lips teasing over the tip before she moves back down, using her hands where her mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out a throaty “fuck,” knowing there’s a security guard outside the door, and probably a few of the staff still lingering about.

But she looks so beautiful like this, her brow furrowed in determination as she tries to take him deeper and deeper, desperate to please him, happy to make him suffer for it. And the little noises she makes, the gags and the moans. He imagines that she likes this, that she’s been wanting this for as long as he has, and if he pulled her onto his lap and slid his fingers under her skirt, he’d find her drenched.

She starts to up the pace until he brings his hand to the side of her face again, his hand large enough that he can rest his palm against her cheek and tease his fingers through her hair. Her eyes dart up to his, wide and teary.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “nice and slow, just like that.”

She whimpers around him, breathing desperately through her nose.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he coos, “you started this, didn’t you? Wanted to taste me? Wanted to feel my cock in your mouth?”

She hums in agreement.

“Just fucking take it then,” he says with a clenched jaw, gripping her hair to bob her head up and down, keeping that torturous pace.

The pleasure builds slowly, running hotly through his body, but he fights the urge to clamp both hands around her head and buck his hips up to fuck her throat.

He comes harder than he thinks he ever has before, keeping himself sheathed within her as he paints the inside of her mouth, and pulls her head away to see the last few drops spill against her lips.

She gazes up at him with dazed and glassy eyes. She’s panting, trying to catch her breath. Her forehead glistens with sweat, mascara runs down her face and his spend drips over her chin.

He wipes some of the mess away with his thumbs, cradling her face in his hands. “Swallow,” he orders.

Her mouth closes and her throat bobs. He can already feel the tension in his gut tightening again.

If only he could keep her like this forever.

She makes it to Hightower House at the usual time of 8am, despite leaving work so late last night. Despite the hours she spent consumed by thoughts of Aemond Targaryen as she rode the train and dragged herself into her bed. Despite the aching arousal that went unfulfilled. Despite the marks on her knees and the stiffness in her jaw.

When she walks into Alys’ office to sign in, she’s already there, perfectly poised and typing away on her laptop.

“Morning,” she says brightly.

Alys looks up from the screen. The white light shining from below makes her face look a little eerie. “Morning,” she says with a smug look on her face.

She ignores it, scrawling down the time and her signature beside her name.

“You were working rather late last night,” Alys says.

“Yeah, I was,” she mutters, placing the pen down and straightening her spine.

Alys is staring at her. Her eyes are unnervingly bright. “He never asks Maris to work late.”

Her heart drops.

It’s like she can feel the weight of him in her mouth, the taste of him on her tongue.

“I bet he’s just realised I’m more of a people pleaser,” she says.

Alys hums and smiles. “Yeah?”

She doesn’t have time for this. She hangs up her coat and her bag, and picks up two black coffees from the coffee machine in the kitchenette down the hall.

Aemond is in his office, leaning back in his chair with his mobile pressed to his ear. He doesn’t react much when he sees her, he just watches her as she sets one of the cups in front of him. He raises his eyebrows in thanks and brings it to his lips.

She imagines the person on the other end of the call is starting to bore him.

“Yeah… yeah… I know… well there’s not much to be done now but get it over with.”

She takes a few sips from her own cup, wiping the corners of her mouth. Aemond follows her fingers as she does.

“I’ll speak to you after. Yes, thank you, grandfather.” He hangs up the phone and tosses it onto a stack of papers on the desk. “Seven fucking Hells.”

“How did that go?” she asks.

Aemond rolls his eyes and huffs a tired laugh. “He wants to talk through candidates for the by-election in Duskendale. I said I’ll think about it if I survive PMQs.”

She sets her coffee cup down. “What are you most worried about? You’ve prepared for this. What’s worrying you?”

Aemond taps his fingers against the desk. She tries not to ignore the thrill it sends through her belly.

“I’ve never had to deal with something like this. I’ve never been this worried about the party’s image, but that’s usually because I do everything right.”

The whole Aegon situation is beyond his control, and yet he’ll be getting the scrutiny for it.

“People need to be able to trust you,” she says.

Aemond looks up at her expectantly.

“Is Aegon still a party member?” she asks.

Aemond’s expression darkens. “That was discussed. Otto wants him to remain an official member.”

“You’re the Prime Minister. Put your foot down.”

“I can’t,” he says, standing and fixing the rolled up sleeves and undone buttons on his shirt before he reaches for his tie.

“You can’t afford not to. If you go easy on Aegon, Rhaenyra’s going to play to some kind of ‘the Greens are anti woman card.’ Your voters need to know you’re taking this seriously.”

“And throw my own brother under the bus?” he says, sternly.

But she can tell he’s still nervous. His hands are shaking as he ties the tie around his neck.

She pauses, wondering where the line is here. Aegon Targaryen will be fine. He’ll be put under investigation and keep getting bad press for a while, but he can live off daddy’s money in the meantime, and in a few years the whole scandal will be forgotten.

She takes a few steps towards him and comes close enough to smell the dark, boozy smell of his perfume, and shoos his hands away.

“What would be better for the country,” she asks, tilting her head and keeping her eyes focused as she fastens his tie, “presenting yourself as a leader who is committed to integrity and respect, or leaving yourself open to further criticism?”

She pushes the knot up tightly against his collar for emphasis.

Aemond just smirks. “You’re very persuasive,” he says.

“That’s my job, sir.”

She gasps as his hand grabs her hip and pulls her against him. His breath runs hotly over her face as he tilts her chin up to look at him. His throat hums as he breathes.

She could fall apart then and there.

Until a knock on the door has her practically shoving him away.

Aemond chuckles and shrugs on his suit jacket. “Enter,” he calls.

She turns her back to the door to hide the flustered look on her face, pretending to look through a bookshelf that she’s never really looked at properly before.

“Car for you, sir,” Alys says from the doorway.

Aemond calls for her by her surname. Fuck– she was supposed to pack his briefcase before he left. She takes a breath and goes about collecting all the pages of notes and briefings he’ll need.

She brings it to him, and notices Maris standing in the hallway behind Alys. Maris usually goes with him to the Red Keep for PMQs, but today he requests that she accompany him. She supposes it makes sense, she’s been the one helping him prepare after all.

Maris’ face is a storm. Alys looks down at her feet and tries to stifle a giggle.

The next few hours are a blur. She trails after Aemond through the ornate corridors, keeping her eyes on his silver hair, flowing down the back of his black suit jacket. Somewhere along the way, Cole and the head of security, a man Aemond greets as “Mr Westerling”, joins them.

They leave through the front entrance, into the sharp September air and into a black car. The hum of the engine and the smell of leather makes her nauseous, but they’re only in the car for a matter of minutes before the door swings open and she’s been ushered towards the Red Keep.

Once a seat of Kings, now the red stone castle seems a little out of place with the rest of the city. This is where Parliament gathers.

As they walk through its halls, Aemond tells her to throw a few questions at him. She has them all memorised in her head, able to recite a few without really thinking about it. Aemond mutters the answers they’ve rehearsed under his breath, smiling politely and waving as they pass by civil servants, MPs, Green and Black party members alike. They even pass Cregan Stark, leader of the Northern Independence party. He whispers all of their names in her ear.

There’s a small room where Aemond waits in before he enters the Great Hall. She can hear the noise and the chatter on the other side of the double doors, engraved with the same crest that marks the gates to Hightower House.

He won’t stop moving, adjusting his tie and his cuffs, tutting and pursing his lips.

She makes sure Cole and Westerling are muttering to each other before she leans into Aemond, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she whispers, “don’t see it as a chance for them to criticise you, see it as an opportunity for you to reassure everyone else of how brilliant you are.”

Aemond turns his head towards her. He’s not touching her but she feels the proximity.

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” he says.

She smiles. “It’s all perspective.”

Before Aemond is called into the hall, Cole directs her to the gallery, above the benches where the MPs sit.

She and Aemond meet eyes before she leaves. She stops herself from reaching for him, not wanting to leave his side.

“Good luck,” she says.

As if he needs it. She watches everything unfold from the gallery, the MPs sat below her like she’s watching a play in a theatre.

Aemond starts off with an amazing opening speech which, at her recommendation, doesn’t shy away from the issue of the whole Aegon scandal. He affirms his commitment to ensuring that central government is a safe and inclusive working environment, which is when he announces Aegon’s resignation as an MP, as well as his removal from the Green Party.

The chamber in an uproar. A few members of the Green Party make a bit of a fuss, but mostly Aemond’s announcement is applauded, even by a good number of Black Party members.

Rhaenyra, Aemond’s sister and predecessor, is at a loss for words, as is her deputy, Daemon.

Aemond seems to get a boost of confidence from this and takes every question in his stride, using elements from the answers she had rehearsed with him and even throwing in a few one liners which has half the room cheering him.

And he’s fucking hot when he’s cocky.

While he speaks all she can think of is how he sounded while she was between his legs. “Good girl… just fucking take it…” she has to clench her fists and her jaw at the wave of arousal that rises within her.

Afterwards she walks with him to the car. A whole host of Green Party members crowd him as they walk through the hallways, praising him, commending him. He smiles graciously, looking over his shoulder every so often to look at her, to make sure she’s not fallen behind.

The silence of the car is unbearable with Cole and Westerling in the front, and Aemond beside her, drumming his fingers against his thigh and running his other hand through his hair.

She presses her thighs at the obvious arousal pooling at her centre.

Seven hells, she’s acting like she’s in heat.

She follows Aemond back through Hightower House, past Alys’ office, to his own office. When he closes the door behind them, he locks it.

She leans against the desk, keeping her hands on the wood behind her.

Aemond turns back to her with a ravenous look in his pale blue eyes. He reaches into his pocket, effortlessly pulling his hair into a low bun, as he usually does in informal company.

She can’t take her eye off him as he tosses his jacket over the sofa, and begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Then he stalks towards her, his chin tilted down and his lips in a tight line, until he’s close enough to paw at her waist.

“I suppose I should thank you for your help,” he says, eyes fixed on his hands as they tease over the fabric of the red mini skirt she had picked out this morning, the way she squirms underneath him.

“Oh,” she breathes. One of his hands trails up, untucking her blouse from her skirt and brushing his fingertips against the bare skin underneath. “Just… doing my job, sir.”

He hums to himself as his hand works its way round to her backside, squeezing gently. “Do you like calling me ‘sir’?”

She can’t help but nod, dazed at the feeling of his hands tracing the shape of her body.

“Yeah, I think you do,” he says, leaning in to press a slow, firm kiss to her neck.

Her resolve is shattered. She throws her hands around his neck, pulling herself into him, desperate to feel him against her, to stay close to him.

She almost whines when he moves away, much to his amusement, feeling her mouth fall into a pout.

“Don’t tell me I’ve got a brat,” he says, taking her chin in his hand. “Are you going to be good for me, pet?”

“Yes, sir,” she utters.

“See? You don’t even need to be told,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to turn around and lean over the desk.”

She follows his instructions without missing a beat, bracing herself on her forearms, against the surface. She feels her skirt being pushed up over her hips, her tights and panties pulled down in one go, fingertips trailing over her thighs. Then she feels his breath against the wetness of her bare pussy.

She can’t help but let out a quiet moan, pressing her nails into the wood in anticipation.

“Haven’t even fucking touched you yet, are you that desperate for me?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpers, trying to look over her shoulder.

Aemond’s hand finds its way against her head, pressing her down. And he doesn’t let go.

His fingers drag through her folds, teasing her entrance and her clit before he slides in a single digit. It feels so different from her own, longer and thicker, pressing into her at an unfamiliar angle. She feels utterly weightless, the obscene sound of him moving in and out of her only adding to her arousal.

Aemond’s voice is dark and husky, as it was last night. “Good girl,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?”

When she doesn’t reply, he withdraws and lands a stinging slap against her cheek, before he pushes into her again. “Answer me,” he says, clearly and firmly.

“Yes, sir,” she says, frantically trying to nod against his hold of her head. “Feels so fucking good.”

He increases his speed, pumping in and out of her until her climax washes over her. It happens gradually, building and building before a pleasant numbness washes through her, to every corner of her body.

While she comes down from her high, her attention is caught by the sound of a belt buckle and rustling fabric.

The tip of his cock presses into her without warning. He inches further and further in until he bottoms out, the material of his trousers pressing against her skin– the cunt hasn’t even bothered to take off his clothes.

He finally relents his hold of her head, grabbing at her waist as he ruts into her. It’s fast and primal, adrenaline pumping through her blood, Aemond’s fingers digging into her flesh, her breath coming out in moans, his belt buckle hitting the desk with every harsh thrust.

“Knew you were a little slut,” he grits out, grabbing at her cheeks and spreading them out to watch his cock moving in and out of her. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She covers her mouth with her hand to hold back the wanton noises threatening to slip past her lips.

Suddenly a hand comes to her shoulder, pulling her up against his chest. One hand kneads at her breasts through her blouse and her bra, while the other slips between her legs, tracing quick circles over her clit.

“I wanna feel you come,” he rasps into her ear, “wanna feel my good girl clench around my cock.”

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She clings to his arms and digs her teeth into her bottom lip. She can feel herself hurtling towards her climax, if only he would move his fingers a little faster.

“Please,” she whispers.

“What was that, pet?” Aemond asks, brushing his lips over her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come!” she whines. “Fuck– please… please, I just want to come, sir.”

She feels him smiling against her as his fingers rub faster over her clit. She can feel how deep he is inside her, how his cock bullies against that sensitive spot, over and over again, until her orgasm tears through her.

She tries to keep her mouth shut but she can’t help the pleading groan that hums in her throat. Aemond holds her as she falls apart, fucking her thoroughly through it all.

Until finally, he reaches his end, hissing through his teeth and pulling out to spill himself onto her pussy. She feels the warmth, how it drips through her folds, for now uncaring of the mess they’ve surely made.

Aemond keeps holding her against his chest. His forehead falls against the back of her head and his hot breath echoes over her neck. “I really appreciate the work you’ve done for me,” he says breathlessly. “I think you and I make quite a pair, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” she mewls, letting her head fall against his arm.

Aemond hums a laugh to himself, it rumbles in his chest and against her back. “So pretty and polite,” he coos, “how did I ever manage without you until now, pet?”

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @targaryenrealnessdarling

A/n: I might do a part 2 to this so let me know if you would liked to be tagged :)

508 notes · View notes

doyoulikethissong-poll · 6 months

Text

Yes votes / Artist - Song title / Poll number / Showdown votes / * Showdown Winner

95% A-ha - Take On Me #91 - 45.2% *

94,8% Boney M. - Rasputin #37 - 49,3% *

94,3% Dolly Parton - Jolene #110 - 43,1% *

94,1% Britney Spears - Toxic #04 - 51,9% *

92% Fleetwood Mac - The Chain #116 - 44,4% *

90,2% Dead or Alive - You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) #163 - 30,8% *

89,1% Kansas - Carry On Wayward Son #171 - 51% *

86,6% Amy Winehouse - Back to Black #190 - 32,9 *

86,3% Chumbawamba - Tubthumping #82 - 24,9%

86% Chuck Berry - Johnny B. Goode #53 - 18,6%

85,5% Dido - Thank You #120 - 5,6%

85,3% Ricky Martin - La Bomba #132 - 8,3%

85,2% Queen - The Show Must Go On #142 - 20,9%

85% Green Day - Basket Case #47 - 27,6% *

84,9% Ramones - Blitzkrieg Bop #41 - 15,8%

84,7% The Cardigans - Lovefool #135 - 24,2% *

84,5% Elvis Presley - Can't Help Falling in Love #136 - 18,8%

84,4% Daryl Hall & John Oates - Out of Touch #67 - 31,4% *

82,7% Nightwish - The Phantom of the Opera #144 - 8,6%

82,6% Junior Senior - Move Your Feet #76 - 6,5%

82,4% Myrkur - Tor i Helheim #54 - 7% 82,4% Tracy Chapman - Fast Car #145 - 32,5% *

82% Backstreet Boys - I Want It That Way #105 - 19,2%

81,9% Blue Swede - Hooked on a Feeling #152 - 17,1% * 81,9% 3 Doors Down - Kryptonite #167 - 15,1%

81,6% N Sync - Bye Bye Bye #52 - 26,9% *

81,5% Israel Kamakawiwo'ole - Somewhere Over the Rainbow #42 - 16,7%

80,7% Jamiroquai - Virtual Insanity #72 - 17,9%

80,5% Pixies - Where Is My Mind? #148 - 13,5%

80,2% Oasis - Wonderwall #157 - 16%

80,1% Soundgarden - Black Hole Sun #119 - 14,9%

79,6% Fats Waller - Ain't Misbehavin' #179 - 7,1%

79,4% Falco - Rock Me Amadeus #185 - 23,2%

79,3% Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up - #Bonus Poll

78,8% Shakira - Ojos Así #75 - 7,5%

78,5% Kaoma - Lambada #57 - 4,2%

78,4% Danny Elfman - This Is Halloween #05 - 13,9%

78,2% Panic at the Disco - The Ballad of Mona Lisa #78 - 18,5% *

78% Panjabi MC - Mundian To Bach Ke #64 - 5,3%

77,6% Jimi Hendrix - All Along the Watchtower #95 - 13.1% 77,6% Nirvana - The Man Who Sold the World #118 - 10,7%

77% Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road #22 - 29,4% * 77% Kesha - Blow #38 - 12,1%

76,4% Salt-N-Pepa with En Vogue - Whatta Man #134 - 15,1%

76,3% Johnny Cash - Hurt #81 - 35,6% * 76,3% Red Hot Chili Peppers - Otherside #92 - 8.2% 76,3% The Offspring - Gone Away #143 - 5,9% 76,3% The Longest Johns - Hoist Up The Thing #169 - 7,8%

76% Foo Fighters - The Pretender #111 - 14,2%

75,9% Queens of the Stone Age - No One Knows #87 - 12,9%

75,7% Nothing but Thieves - Is Everybody Going Crazy? #113 - 3,7%

75,5% Tarkan - Şımarık #94 - 3.1%

75,4% Jerry Lee Lewis - Great Balls of Fire #188 - 8,8%

75,2% Eiffel 65 - Blue (Da Ba Dee) #147 - 14,2%

74,9% Måneskin - Off My Face #151 - 7,9%

74,8% Måneskin - Zitti e Buoni #16 - 33% *

74,6% Nat King Cole - Nature Boy #09 - 7,2% 74,6% Within Temptation - Stand My Ground #165 - 6,4%74,6% Pink - Who Knew #166 - 8,4%

74,4% Go_A - Shum #177 - 18,7%

74,3% Arash - Tike Tike Kardi #137 - 2,6%

73,6% Paula Abdul - Straight Up #156 - 6,2%

73,3% Beck - Loser #124 - 16,4% 73,3% Massive Attack - Teardrop #187 - 17,4%

72,6% Evanescence - Imaginary #44 - 13,5%

72% Robbie Williams - The Road to Mandalay #129 - 3,9%

71,8% Billie Piper - Day & Night #173 - 5,6%

71,7% Lil Green - Why Don't You Do Right? #34 - 1,8%

71,1% Cab Calloway - Minnie the Moocher #130 - 14,4%

71% Udit Narayan - Bholi Si Surat #141 - 1,5%

70,9% Nine Inch Nails - Closer #93 - 22%

70,7% Ryan Gosling - I'm Just Ken #159 - 12,4%

70,6% The Lightning Seeds - You Showed Me #59 - 2,7% 70,6% Savage Garden - To the Moon and Back #83 - 7%

70,5% Queen - Mustapha #29 - 11,4%

70,4% Soggy Bottom Boys - I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow #26 - 22,3% 70,4% Metallica - Wherever I May Roam #77 - 8,6%

69,9% MUCC - Ryuusei #19 - 7,4%

69,5% Spooks - Things I've Seen #104 - 0,8%

69,2% Flo Rida feat Kesha - Right Round #02 - 6,2%

68,9% Era - Ameno (Remix) #24 - 4,8%

68,5% Linkin Park - Bleed It Out #63 - 23,9% 68,5% Snow - Informer #139 - 4,7%

68,3% Run-DMC featuring Aerosmith - Walk This Way #127 - 10,9%

68,2% Limahl - The NeverEnding Story #60 - 9,8% 68,2% Nelly Furtado - Maneater #160 - 17,1% *

68,1% Stromae - L'enfer #89 - 9,8%

67,9% Urban Symphony - Rändajad #90 - 2,2%

67,8% Muse - Endlessly #107 - 9,4%

67,6% My Chemical Romance - Sing #80 - 17,3%

67,3% “Weird Al” Yankovic - White & Nerdy #43 - 16%

67% Avicii - Hey Brother #164 - 13,9%

66,7% The Hives - Two-Timing Touch and Broken Bones #58 - 2,7%

66,3% System of a Down - B.Y.O.B. #128 - 26,2% *

66% Texas - Summer Son #154 - 2,6%

65,8% Cliff Edwards - When You Wish Upon a Star #85 - 2,2%

65,7% Modern Talking - Brother Louie #50 - 4% 65,7% Ivan Campo - Dice Man #181 - 1,2%

65,4% Harry McClintock - The Big Rock Candy Mountains #131 - 6,7%

65,2% Eimear Quinn - The Voice #32 - 2,5% 65,2% 2Pac featuring Dr. Dre and Roger Troutman - California Love #121 - 8,3% 65,2% Radio Company - Drowning #172 - 2,2%

64,7% Bloodhound Gang - The Bad Touch #162 - 9%

64,6% Gorillaz - Stylo #61 - 15,8% 64,6% Duran Duran - The Chauffeur #133 - 7,1%

64,4% Alice Cooper - Poison #01 - 10,5% 64,4% Depeche Mode - It's No Good #101 - 9,1%

64,1% Destiny’s Child - Jumpin’, Jumpin’ #51 - 12,7%

64% 2 Unlimited - No Limit #182 - 3,2% 64% 30 Seconds to Mars - Battle of One #183 - 3,9%

63,8% Kongos - Come With Me Now #17 - 15,9% 63,8% A. R. Rahman - Jai Ho #40 - 4,6%

63,3% Dua Lipa - New Rules #126 - 10,6%

63,1% Olly Murs - Heart Skips A Beat #106 - 2,2%

63% Moby - Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? #123 - 3,8%

62,4% 30 Seconds to Mars - Fallen #30 - 5,5% 62,4% Beastie Boys - Intergalactic #153 - 16%

62,3% Childish Gambino - This Is America #71 - 18,2%

62% Billie Eilish - No Time to Die #168 - 5%

61,4% The Prodigy - Breathe #112 - 4,5%

61,3% Blue Stahli - One Last Breath #99 - 1.8%

61,1% Wham! - Everything She Wants #108 - 6,5%

60,6% Lordi - Hard Rock Hallelujah #70 - 9,9% 60,6% Kwoon featuring Babet - King Of Sea #115 . 0,5%

60,2% Toni Braxton - You're Makin' Me High #155 - 1,4%

58,9% AC/DC - Hail Caesar #158 - 3,2%

58,7% Duran Duran - The Wild Boys #21 - 9,6%

58,5% Nova Twins - Antagonist #68 - 4,5%

58,1% Madonna - Live to Tell #184 - 3%

56,8% Mendez - Adrenaline #23 - 1,2% 56,8% Sash! - Ecuador #73 - 1,7% 56,8% Anouk - Nobody's Wife #176 - 2,2%

56,7% George Michael and Mary J. Blige - As #62 - 3,2% 56,7% Kelis - Trick Me #175 - 4,2%

56,6% Nikka Costa - Like A Feather #48 - 0,6% 56,6% Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds & Kylie Minogue - Where the Wild Roses Grow #103 - 5,7%

56,1% Margaret Berger - I Feed You My Love #117 - 0,8%

55,9% Blur - Coffee & TV #56 - 9,7%

55,7% Big Brovaz - Nu Flow #65 - 0,9% 55,7% K’s Choice - Everything For Free #79 - 1,2%

55,4% Moby - Natural Blues #07 - 2,5% 55,4% Janet Jackson featuring Q-Tip and Joni Mitchell - Got 'til It's Gone #146 - 2,2%

55,2% Rammstein - Engel #35 - 7,3%

55,1% Maximum the Hormone - What's Up, People?! #138 - 10,6%

54,5% Billie Myers - Tell Me #86 - 0,9% 54,5% Lana Del Rey - High by the Beach #186 - 4,4%

54% Aqua - Turn Back Time #28 - 8,2%

53,9% Ardis - No Man's Land #88 - 0,9%

53,5% Kylie Minogue - Confide In Me #13 - 5,2%

53,4% Apashe - Lord & Master #170 - 1,5%

52,8% Madonna - Who's That Girl #18 - 9,8%

52,7% Aerosmith - Falling in Love (Is Hard on the Knees) #84 - 3,5% 52,7% MUCC - Daikirai #161 - 2,1%

52,2% Marilyn Manson - The Fight Song #49 - 2,1%

52,1% DJ Shadow - Six Days #180 - 2%

51,6% Bomfunk MC's - Freestyler #14 - 6%

51,3% Mariah Carey - The Roof (Back in Time) #46 - 1,4% 51,3% Mori Calliope & Reol - 虚像のCarousel #55 - 5,6%

49,9% Basement Jaxx - Where's Your Head At #31 - 6,9%

49,8% Shaggy - Hey Sexy Lady #122 - 4,1%

49,7% Warren G & Sissel - Prince Igor #20 - 2,2%

49% Billie Eilish - NDA #10 - 2,6%

47,7% Massive Attack - Angel #39 - 5,9%

47,5% Adam Tensta - My Cool #11 - 1%

47,4% Slipknot - The Blister Exists #100 - 2,6%

47% Seether - Fuck It #74 - 2,6%

46,9% Rhiannon Giddens - Way Over Yonder #102 - 1,2%

46,8% Spiritbox - Rotoscope #66 - 2,6%

46,6% Sabrina Carpenter - Feather #25 - 4,6%

46% Prince - The Greatest Romance Ever Sold #69 - 2,6%

45,6% Jimmy Cliff feat Lebo M - Hakuna Matata #06 - 2%

44,3% 3T and Michael Jackson - Why #114 - 0,7%

44,2% Tones and I - Dance Monkey #178 - 6,1%

43,9% The Prodigy - No Good (Start the Dance) #08 - 2,6% 43,9% David Bowie - I'm Afraid of Americans #33 - 8,5% 43,9% Faithless - Insomnia #109 - 2,9%

42,7% Fatboy Slim - Weapon of Choice #12 - 16,3%

42,6% Eminem - Rabbit Run #27 - 2,9%

40,6% Michael Jackson - Will You Be There #45 - 2,3%

39,8% Alanis Morissette - I Was Hoping #96 - 1.6%

38,8% Wyclef Jean - Gone Till November #36 - 1,1%

38,5% Bright Light Bright Light featuring Mark Gatiss - Next To You #174 - 0,8%

37,9% Ariana Grande - Yes, And? #140 - 1,8%

37,6% Babylon Zoo - Spaceman #189 - 2%

36,5% Jedward - Luminous #125 - 1,4%

35,3% Noporn - Geleia de Morango #150 - 0,3%

34,6% Ena Mori - Fall Inlove! #149 - 0,4%

33,3% Ryan Gosling - Put Me in the Car #15 - 3,2%

30% Darren Hayes - Spin #03 - 0,6%

29% Dreamcrusher - In Due Time #98 - 0.7%

28,2% BTS - Life Goes On #97 - 1.8%

#note

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haute-honey · 4 days

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I feel like shaking the table in honor of the last day of this mercury retrograde.

DISCLAIMER: Astrology is subjective and should never be looked at as definitive. So, when you're viewing astro observations or notes, please take it with a handful of salt. Including this post. This spiritual shit is meant to teach you more about yourself, not to solve all your problems or give you the answers to life's biggest questions.

scorpio sun is the worst scorpio placement to have and I wish you all would stop including them with other scorpio placements bc they are totally different vibe.

taurus' placements are who yall think scorpio placements are.

also, taurus men 🤝 sabotaging their own attractiveness.

Why don't we also talk about how having heavy Saturn placements, Venus-Saturn, Saturn in 7th, etc. as a young person makes you more susceptible than the average young person to being groomed/sexually assaulted by older individuals?

I hope that everyone of you who hold on to the stereotype of libras being liars meets a libra who is not only not scared of being honest, but cuts you deeply with the truth 🙃

scorpio moon women 🤝 never forgiving your father for mistreating your mother.

Black gemini sun men 🤝 loving white/racially ambiguous women.

Pisces men 🤝 lacking authentic charisma

What is with aquarius suns and being able to articulate themselves or a situation in an intellectual manner but still ending up in the stupidest, avoidable, thoughtless circumstances? Like does your brain work or not?

I think people with prominent aquarius placements tend to like the idea of being perceived as intellectual rather than doing the actual work or feeling the brunt of being an intellectual. For example, J. Cole the rapper (aqua sun) appearing to be very "woke" in his earlier work just for him to expose himself later on by saying he doesn't even read books..................

Oh to be a woman with prominent libra placements or stellium... you encounter jealousy from all genders and its unfair because no matter what we they do, people will still send the evil eye regardless. Avoid being in situations where you're the big fish in a small pond.

not an observation but really wish yall would stop tagging shit that has nothing to do with astrology or astrology observations. yall annoying af.

#astrology observations #astrology #astro observations

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batboyblog · 20 days

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My Super Gay/Queer Reading List

The Long Run by James Acker

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

Another Dimension of Us by Mike Albo

Wonders of the Invisible World by Christopher Barzak

Alan Cole Is Not a Coward by Eric Bell

Alan Cole Doesn’t Dance by Eric Bell

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan

Felix Yz by Lisa Bunker

Last Bus to Everland by Sophie Cameron

Dragging Mason County by Curtis Campbell

The House of Impossible Beauties by Joseph Cassara

Peter Darling by Austin Chant

Carry the Ocean by Heidi Cullinan

The Love Interest by Cale Dietrich

Half Bad by Sally Green

Half Wild by Sally Green

Half Lost by Sally Green

Heartbreak Boys by Simon James Green

Gay Club by Simon James Green

You’re the One That I Want by Simon James Green

We Contain Multitudes by Sarah Henstra

Totally Joe by James Howe

After School Activities by Dirk Hunter

At the Edge of the Universe by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried by Shaun David Hutchinson

We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Five Stages of Andrew Brawley by Shaun David Hutchinson

A Complicated Love Story Set in Space by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Straight by Jeff Jacobson

Haffling by Caleb James

The Lightning-Struck Heart by T.J. Klune

A Destiny of Dragons by T.J. Klune

The Consumption of Magic by T.J. Klune

A Wish Upon the Stars by T.J. Klune

The Extraordinaries by T.J. Klune

Flash Fire by T.J. Klune

Heat Wave by T.J. Klune

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg

The Bridge by Bill Konigsberg

Destination Unknown by Bill Konigsberg

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan

Every Day by David Levithan

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

Ryan and Avery by David Levithan

How to Repair a Mechanical Heart by J.C. Lillis

Take a Bow, Noah Mitchell by Tobias Madden

When Ryan Came Back by Devon McCormack

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Fraternity by Andy Mientus

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

The Art of Starving by Sam J. Miller

Hero by Perry Moore

I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

More Than This by Patrick Ness

Junior Hero Blues by J.K. Pendragon

The City Beautiful by Aden Polydoros

When Everything Feels Like the Movies by Raziel Reid

Kens by Raziel Reid

Emmett by Lev A.C. Rosen

Jack of Hearts by Lev A.C. Rosen

Camp by Lev A.C. Rosen

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell

Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez

Rainbow High by Alex Sanchez

Rainbow Road by Alex Sanchez

So Hard to Say by Alex Sanchez

The 99 Boyfriends of Micah Summers by Adam Sass

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

All Kinds of Other by James Sie

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

History Is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera

More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera

Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

Freak Show by James St. James

Ray of Sunlight by Brynn Stein

The Dangerous Art of Blending In by Angelo Surmelis

366 Days by Kiyoshi Tanaka

The Language of Seabirds by Will Taylor

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Wild and Crooked by Leah Thomas

Because You’ll Never Meet Me by Leah Thomas

Spin Me Right Round by David Valdes

Always the Almost by Edward Underhill

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Tumblr got rid of yellow so I couldn't do pride colors, sorry!

If you want help picking something out just send me an ask with what kind of thing you're looking for and I'll select something for you, and if you end up reading something because you saw this list, please let me know

#books #reading #book list #gay books #queer books #queer lit #red white and royal blue #love simon #Carry On

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darlingdekarios · 11 months

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shining armor.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 17,649 content: Ser Criston Cole x f!Stark!reader, reader is a Stark, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, yearning, mentions of animal hunting/death, smut [f receiving oral, unprotected p in v]

Criston Cole is faced with the reality of a life falling for a lone wolf.

Early Winter, 112 A.C., The Crownlands

Due to the warm nature of the southern part of the kingdom of Westeros, it was not a hindrance to hunting parties when the winter months rolled around, the weather staying pleasant enough to set out on exhibitions. It was just after the turn of the new year, and a colder-than-normal winter in the Crownlands offered a unique opportunity for the crown on the youngest of King Viserys I’s youngest son’s name day. As could only be expected of the occasion, houses from across the kingdoms sent forward representatives to partake in the hunt, keen on gaining favor with the crown.

Very few of those present had any real interest in the hunt itself, the only trophies the group holding valuable thrones, crowns and castles.

A day into the festivities after the sun had set behind the trees the sounds of heavy hooves could be heard over the rain through the coverings of tents, signifying the unexpected arrival of two additional guests. Emerging from the tents the king and his company came to face a flag they had long-since seen: the banner of House Stark. Carried by two large black horses, built as such to endure the winters in their native lands, the strangers who wore sturdy armor and various furs emerged from the fog to approach the king.

“Bennard Stark, son of Lord Benjen Stark and Lady Lysa Locke, accompanied by Ser Grandin Rane, your grace,” the knight on the left spoke, removing his helmet as he spoke. Ser Grandin was an intense man, every bit of what a northerner was expected to look like with long, dark hair and beard, pale from the longer, harsher winters. “You’ll have to excuse Lord Bennard. He has suffered an injury on our long journey to you and finds himself unable to speak, and the current state of his face…well, sadly, it would upset the sensitive among us. We apologize for our late arrival, without the injury we’d have been here on time.”

The King analyzed the image before him in full, at a loss for words at the implications an event like this meant after years of House Stark remaining passive toward the crown. The youngest son of Lord Stark held tall mounted atop the horse, small for a boy from the North, which the king passed off as a probable result of age. To the right of the Lord now stood a massive black animal with fierce reflective golden eyes, the symbol of the house itself – a direwolf. Rumors that the house currently had four of the animals in their possession had been shrugged off as simply that, but taking in the animal before him was a wonder – the king had never spent much time in the colder areas.

A glance at Otto Hightower, his still-trusted Hand at the time, confirmed the many thoughts racing through his own head were likely shared by everyone present, and yet no one could bring themselves to voice any of them without a private conversation. The knight, noticing the apprehension on the faces before him, jumped from his horse to slide to a knee.

“As a sign of good faith between the house and the crown,” he bowed his head, which was mirrored by the young lord who remained atop his horse in favor of staying out of the mud. King Viserys nodded and motioned for the knight to rise before gesturing at the large animal. “As much as I am sworn to protect the House Stark, that animal is as well. It will listen to the lord, you needn’t be fearful of it.”

“I am…truly overjoyed to see this day between our houses, Lord Bennard. Many thanks to you, Ser Rane, for escorting the young lord this long way. Please send my regards to the Lord Stark upon your return,” King Viserys spoke, his words careful and as calculated as something on the spot like this could be. “I am afraid we were quite unsuccessful in our hunt this first day, and while we can certainly feed the two of you after this long journey, we do not have the excess to feed such an animal.”

The knight from the north couldn’t prevent the small chuckle that fell from his lips, shaking his head in response as the young Stark made a gesture with a gloved hand, the large wolf immediately bounding off into the forest. The knight’s tone was amused, and yet still respectful to maintain the good spirit of the conversation. “The wolf can feed himself. He will hunt far enough to not affect our excursion, and he will return in the morning to protect the camp as the party sets out. He is of benefit to stay, and the lord will vouch for him. They are as much connected as your grace to dragons.”

The comparison landed and soon the newcomers were welcomed in, put aside in a spare dry area to settle in for the night before the morning, and sent to beds with plates of bread, fruits, and cheeses that remained from the earlier feast. The remainder of the camp had fallen to sleep as the two had changed into warm clothes, hold for those on watch. The night was loud with the rain yet everyone found peace enough to sleep through the night.

The next day’s events wrought similar results to the first day – while the party had a long day in the forest searching for a worthy beast to kill in honor of the young prince, they returned to the camp as the sun began to set with nothing more than a few wild turkeys. With better weather and worse moods than the night before the party found themselves drunker on this second night, seeking anything to soothe their wounded egos. It was well into the dark night when Ser Criston Cole observed the silhouette of a rider on horseback disappearing into the trees, a large wolf following closely behind. With permission to relieve himself of his duties since the king and his family remained in good company, he gave into the curiosity and pull to follow.

His own horse was large but lean, and moved silently through the woods after the scarce prints that littered the remaining mud from the rain the day before until he could see the figures once again, now waiting beside a riverbed. Stilling his horse far enough back to seem only as another animal in the woods moving about, the Dornish knight observed as the Stark child removed his helmet. He was met with you instead.

It had long been a favorite game of yours, to don the clothes of your brothers and come up with an absurd plot with the aid of your sworn knight to do the activities you desired. While initially the schemes only resulted in small adventures in your home, it had since elevated into hunting trips, tours of Castle Black and the Wall, small sailing excursions in the cold waters, and even the occasional wedding. This was your largest and most irresponsible scheme yet, and the fact was thrilling.

When you removed your helmet for the first time since the early hours of the morning to feel the fresh air against your face, Criston found himself in complete bewilderment as he watched hair come toppling down out of the helmet. The unmistakably feminine features illuminated in the pale moonlight that managed to force its way through the thick trees caused a tightness in his chest, and a confusion in his mind. The sight before him was no son of Benjen Stark.

It was an impressive sight set before the knight as he quietly followed you through the Crownlands that night – hours spent silently watching as you slid from your horse to observe tracks around you, silently communicating with the wolf beside you who was quick to bound off into the trees at your command. Eventually, Criston watched on as you took down a large moose with an arrow from horseback, smiling a confident and beautiful smile in celebration to yourself. When the wolf returned he held a rabbit in its jaws, which he was instructed to eat.

He decided then to return to the camp, aware that he had already pushed his luck following you for so long and abandoning his sworn duties to follow a woman through the woods. Fortunately, he still made it back long before a majority of the camp had risen, and so he’d sat by the fire enjoying the last remaining hours of darkness running through what he’d witnessed that night.

You were a skilled hunter – not just in the sense that you managed to be lethal with a bow, a silent killer, but you were also a capable tracker. Despite communication with your canine companion, he swore he didn’t recall a single sound out of you within the hours that had passed. The more he thought on that fact, the more he wished to know the sound of your voice. The more he wished to hear you speak, the more he found his thoughts lingering on the pieces of the real you he’d gotten to see.

You were beautiful, with wild hair that you had attempted to tame into a braided hairstyle, though throughout the night it became more and more disheveled and he found himself, often, wanting to run his fingers through it. You’d taken the gauntlets off of your hands and forearms in order to properly wield your bow, showcasing soft hands that would undoubtedly feel like bliss against his skin. His thoughts focused most on a pair lips that begged to be kissed. Suffice to say, his mind suffered more consequences from his excursion than could have been anticipated.

After some time others began to emerge from tents, already dressed for the day in armor to begin a third day of hunting. Though he knew a successful kill was on its way back to the camp, he kept the information to himself – including the information of who was truly beneath the youngest Stark child’s helmet; the middle child, a daughter.

When the sun began to rise and warm the camp for the day is when you made your grand re-entry, leading your horse on foot as he dragged the massive kill you’d made back to camp, your brother’s helmet once again on your head and his identity assumed. Your wolf, the animal you could vouch for better than most people, trailed behind you with a happy step this morning, fully satiated from his time in the woods. He stopped next to the tent that belonged to you where it was noticed that he also carried several turkeys on his back. It was here that Ser Grandin joined you once again.

It was obvious from body language that you were being scolded by your sworn protector and Criston had to sympathize with the man, though he wondered if you held a mischievous smile at the chastising. Soon enough you had halted in front of the awaiting King Viserys, dropping to your knees slowly and gesturing behind yourself at the animal dragged by your horse.

“Lord Bennard would like to present his prize to the one true king in a show of good faith between House Stark and the crown,” Ser Grandin spoke clearly for you, and Criston had to wonder how often he fell into these schemes with you. In a way, it was admirable that he was so committed to his vow to you that he partook in these games, clearly, to ensure there were no slip-ups and your safety was secure. Admirable of your obvious insistence to live life your way, he still had to admit a scolding was technically deserved – putting yourself in danger by going out alone, wolf or not, was irresponsible.

“Rise, my boy,” the king spoke after momentary contemplation, walking forward to put a hand against the cheek of the helmet. “The camp is indebted to you for this. You handled this feat alone?”

“Himself and the wolf, your grace,” the knight responded, coming forward to stand beside you. “The young lord often finds himself in the woods late at night hunting, much to my behest. Nevertheless…he is a successful hunter, to be certain.”

You must have felt touched by his pride toward you as Criston noticed your head turn for you to glance at him before quickly bowing again out of respect. The king smiled – a seemingly rare thing these days – and nodded before stepping back to speak louder in addressing the camp.

“This young hunter from the North is the reason we will eat well today, my friends,” the king announced, resting a hand on your armored shoulder to turn you to face the awaiting company. “And instead of glory for being the best among us, he wishes to gift the impressive kill to me in honor of my son.”

Everyone knew when the king wanted an applause, and sensing that now was one of these times when he wanted to give credit where it was due everyone gave a polite applause. Everyone present was careful not to carry on too loudly or too long in order for the king to be heard again when he wishes.

Criston found himself drifting closer to you throughout the day, hanging around you close enough in the hope that he’d hear even a single word from your lips or be offered another look under the helmet. Unfortunately, Ser Grandin, the king, and the queen did not leave you alone very often for the remainder of the day, leaving the Dornish knight no opportunity at being alone together.

Later that night when the company found their way back into their beds, you and your sworn protector left under the cover of the darkness, the long road back to Winterfell beginning.Ser Criston Cole would not see you again for many weeks thereafter, but not a single day would pass that you did not enter his mind.

Ten Months Later , Winterfell

A bellowing roar signified the visit of a creature that had long avoided the North, and as those sitting within comfortable castle rooms made their way to confirm what they already knew to be true, the gates opened to present a small company of knights, accompanied by Ser Criston Cole. Outside of the castle and a safe distance away, the princess Rhaenyra landed her dragon before walking the remaining distance through the gates. Ser Criston was alight with excitement as he waited for what he could feel in his heart to come, and his teetering patience was beautifully rewarded once he saw you make your way down a set of stairs behind your father.

Wearing your brother’s armor had done no favors to your appearance, but this elegant, shimmering silver gown that cascaded in a sheer train behind you clung onto every part of you he now wanted to grab. Atop your shoulders wrapped a fine fur, smooth and from what looked like a silver fox. Your hair was much better tamed today than he’d last seen it – recently washed, braided intricately, but enough of it let down that immediately made him imagine running his fingers through it.

Criston had never found himself to dwell on the beauty of a woman long, his sense of responsibility taking over his thoughts before they could stray for long. It would be a lie to state that he hadn’t thought of you, and often, throughout the last 10 months without seeing you. He often wondered about the subtle colors to your features if he had the chance to get closer, and while he was soaking in what he could from this distance, being this close to the real you only made him want to be closer. He found himself scrambling to remove his helmet, unhappy with the slightly difference it made to his vision. He needed to see as much of you as you offered, and it needed to be unobstructed.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs behind your father you bowed your head, eyes staying toward the ground in politeness. Criston saw the princess’ eyes linger on you before landing once more on your father, a light smile crossing on her features.

“Lord Stark, the Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, heir to the Iron Throne and future Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and First Men,” Criston found his voice to introduce the woman who should have his full attention, though he still hadn’t pulled his eyes away from you. Your father made a show of respect by kneeling, but before you could follow Rhaenyra held up a hand with a light smile.

“Please, don’t soil yourself in mud and snow on my behalf,” the princess spoke to you, ever one to respect a woman before a man. Your father stood at the instruction, bowing his head as yours raised to smile the most tantalizing smile in their direction. Criston was glad he had found himself capable of speaking when he was needed, because he was certain it was an impossibility now. “My family was appreciative of the gesture for my youngest brother’s name day this past Winter. Your youngest son is quite the adequate hunter. We wished to repay the gesture with a gesture of our own.”

Criston noticed the way Lord Stark’s eyebrows furrowed together and the subtle glance he threw your way, and how you avoided the gaze with unphased intent. He had to wonder if your father knew the kind of trouble you liked to get into, but if the older man was mentally wondering about the situation, his voice didn’t waver. Criston had not broken your secret to anyone in the time since he’d discovered it.

“An unnecessary gesture, Princess. It is the head of a House’s responsibility to ensure good relations with the Crown, not the other way around,” your father’s deep voice spoke, his eyes taking in the people before him and the dragon in the distance. “It is my hope we can be good hosts to you for however long you wish to stay in the cold North. My sons return in the morning from a long journey to the Iron Islands.”

“We have brought food, and money in exchange for any livestock potentially used to feed Syrax, my dragon, before she flies back to the warmer climate in my stay,” Rhaenyra was getting better and better at speaking diplomatically. “After a long journey for my escort, I am certain we would be happy with a meal prepared in your kitchen and the company of you, your Lady, and your daughter for the evening. Tomorrow we shall feast in honor of our houses.”

Rhaenyra stepped forward to approach your father and so Criston followed, his brown eyes returning to you once more due to the irresistible draw. This close he could see the blush on your cheeks and nose from the cold, and the small flecks of color that scattered in your eyes. Whatever words were spoken between the princess and your father went unheard by him as he found himself transfixed on you, completely bewitched by you.

“My escort, Ser Criston Cole, a knight of the Kingsgurad,” he heard Rhaenyra speak, his name snapping him from his trance. He hadn’t even realized you were returning his gaze. “You’ll excuse his manners, he is from Dorne and this may be his first snow.”

The Princess’ words were teasing, Criston quickly moving his gaze back to your father with a nod. “I am afraid I’m used to quite a bit more heat.”

“In our hall there is a large fireplace, it would be my honor to escort the future Queen and the good Ser to somewhere far warmer.”

Your voice pierced through him like an ice dagger straight through his heart, his eyes finding you again as the perfect sound finally filled his ears after months of yearning to know it. It was better than anything his mind could have imagined for it, and he was glad the armor covering his body hid the goosebumps on his arms from view.

Rhaenyra smiled and agreed, of course, offering an arm to the Stark daughter in a friendly gesture, much warmer than Criston had seen her in years in the snow of Winterfell, of all places. Your father excused himself to see to the preparation of a meal and the feeding of the dragon, and thus left you to escort the Knight and Princess yourself.

As you made your way through the much-more-modest halls of Winterfell you made pleasant conversation with Rhaenyra, and Criston followed closely by clinging to every word. You were effortlessly endearing as you spoke, even pulling laughs from the normally-serious Princess and pulling her into a conversation sparked by your curiosity about dragons in no time. When the trio arrived to the main hall, Criston made a move to stay outside the door, immediately taking up his post to protect the Princess. At that moment a Knight they already knew emerged, his helmet held under one arm.

“Please join us inside the hall, Ser Criston,” you spoke, turning to face the taller Knight with a smile that warmed him plenty. “My sworn sword knows these halls well and can withstand the cold. Allow him to watch over the Princess in your time here, so you may recover from the journey.”

He found himself simply nodding, the brown pools of his eyes gazing into yours once more as he agreed to whatever you propositioned to him, knowing he’d never be able to refuse you. He missed the knowing smile that crossed Rhaenyra’s features as the three of you made your way to waiting fur-covered chairs before the fire. A small table sat to the side, holding glasses and an offering of mead, plus a plate of cheese, meats and breads. The North could be hospitable with the right people seeing to it.

“Help yourselves to refreshments and the fire. I will have a word with Ser Grandin and rejoin you.”

You excused yourself to the hall again, entering into a hushed conversation with the other person on the planet that Criston knew also held your secret with certainty. Before his thoughts could be swallowed by you again, Rhaenyra broke him from the trance with a playful tone as she handed him a tankard of mead. “You must stop staring at the Stark girl, no matter how beautiful she is, Ser Criston. Perhaps stories of witches in the North have some truth to them.”

The remainder of the evening would pass by in a flash, a hearty meal settling into the company’s stomachs with thankful welcome. Despite the many differences a family of the North faced, the Starks were hospitable and pleasant company to keep, and it was only safe to assume the sons would be the same when they returned. After a large meal and a hot bath Rhaenyra retired for the night, Ser Grandin taking his position for the time being outside of her door while Criston was meant to be settling into bed as well. Instead, he had donned his armor once again and wrapped himself in furs provided by the kind Lord, making his way throughout Winterfell to familiarize himself with the map of his surroundings.

When he made his way to an outdoor walkway he heard the unmistakable noises of a horse making its way toward the front gate slowly, attempting to be as quiet as possible. Rushing to find his own horse he climbed on swiftly, steering his horse through piles of snow to mask the sound of hooves following behind. Once you’d passed through the gate on horseback you stopped, and Criston pulled to a slow stop behind, wondering where you were going and why you insisted on doing these reckless things alone.

“Would you care to join me, Ser Criston?” your voice rang clear in the silent night though it was quiet, the only ears around for it to fall on being the horses and the named man himself as everyone sheltered from the cold. His breath caught in his chest as he realized he’d been caught, and not only caught but confronted.

“I am sorry, m’lady,” he breathed, urging his horse forward to join you at your side. When he came to a stop again he turned his head to face you, meeting your gaze and feeling the nerves lift from his chest at the sight of your smile. No one angry at him for following could smile at him so sweetly. “I thought since Ser Grandin protects the Princess, I might take his place. It will help me learn the area.”

Your smile widened and brightened your face, your eyes lightening as a small laugh fell from your lips. Once again he found breathing an impossible labor at the sound, and the playfulness your tone took only encouraged him. “You think me safer with you than alone, Ser Criston? Do Dornish even know how to walk in the snow?”

Your teasing pulled a quiet, short laugh from his chest as he shook his head, wondering where all of the politeness you displayed for him before your father and the Princess before had gone. “Perhaps not. But I’d like to learn.”

You smiled again and turned your horse back through the gate, heading back to the stables and motioning him to follow. “The first lesson is: your horse is far too small for the terrain we’re going, and isn’t used to the cold. You can borrow my brother’s horse, Titus. He is the gentlest of giants and will take good care of you.”

He followed behind immediately, mentally admitting he could feel his horse struggling in this new environment. Before long he was mounted on a considerably larger animal, white and easy to spot in the night, which you insisted was important going into the woods with you. As the two of you set off into the darkness again your wolf joined by your side again, the same black one that had supposedly belonged to your brother. He supposed you got away with things like this because few visited the North – but still, it was reckless.

“Your wolves are impressive animals, m’lady,” he complimented in a soft voice from beside you as you set off on a trail you knew well. “I remember Ser Grandin describing the bond between them as similar to dragons and their riders. Is this true?”

He caught the smile you offered his curiosity and the curt nod you provided before speaking, your tone and body language more relaxed now that you were beyond the walls. The leather pants you wore clung to your legs in a way he wasn’t used to seeing a woman dress, fur covering the majority of your torso with a hooded cloak. He was glad the cold wasn’t so bitter you had to cover your face, preferring you weren’t hidden from him.

“It is true, in many ways,” you explained, turning your gaze to him as you trusted your horse to continue down the path it had taken many times before. “While the direwolf can live a longer life than that of a normal dog, we certainly don’t share cribs with the animals and then grow old with them. But while Man Eater is alive, he will be my closest companion. He is only two-years-old and already I can’t imagine life without him.”

“You named the beast Man Eater?” he pondered aloud, an amused tone slipping through his words.

“As the middle-born daughter of the Northern Lord, I will never know any real power,” you started, feeling comfortable with his eager and genuine questions. “I have figured the next best thing is to see the fear on men’s faces when they see such a large animal named so fearfully. He enjoys scratches behind his ears and the occasional fruit.”

A genuine, loud laugh came from the Knight and you couldn’t help but join him, the sound of you two laughing tomorrow forming a beautiful chorus in the night. It was immensely validating for him to know the woman he’d spent 10 months pondering was worth every thought he’d given you, as you were turning out to be just as interesting as his mind had hoped you to be.

The conversation remained playful between the two of you as you made your way down the trail, Criston quickly coming to the conclusion that this excursion wasn’t for you to hunt, but instead simply enjoy the night. It had been a long time for Criston to be able to speak with such honesty with someone, and he found the casual conversation resulted in his hard exterior melting away to expose the man he was inside.

You were every bit as enamored in the man, enjoying his questions about your home and living in the North, hanging onto every word he offered about his own home when prompted. He grew to open enough to enter a comfortable banter with you, and soon the conversation was so casual and natural between the two of you, he was certain he could ride to Kings Landing and back before he grew tired of your company.

After several miles you announced it was time for the two of you to walk (if he felt like he could handle the snow, as if he could say no) the rest of the way, and he found himself hurrying to dismount his horse so he could reach for your waist to help you down. The brief feeling of your hips in his hands made him want to pull you in closer but he resisted, maintaining the gentleman’s mask and returning the smile you offered as he let you go. The flush to your cheeks at his firm touch did not go unnoticed.

As you tied the horses to a tree to secure them you instructed the large wolf to keep watch, throwing him the leg bone of a cow that you’d attached to your horse in offering. Before long the two of you were maneuvering on foot through thicker trees before you reached a frozen waterfall, turning to smile at him happily. “This was my favorite place to come when I wanted to get away as a child.”

The intimacy of what you were sharing with him sank in and he felt the smile that came to his face, glad he’d somewhat gotten the snow-walking down so he could keep up with you at a better pace as you made your way toward the frozen water. You reached a thin ledge next to one of the massive sheets of rock and began shimmying across it, making it only a couple of steps before he grabbed your arm, halting your movements.

“My lady,” he breathed out in a rushed tone, grasping onto you like you would slip away from him at any moment. “Have you always insisted on putting yourself in harm’s way, or is this a new hobby?”

“I have done this hundreds of times, Ser Criston,” you taunted, reaching across with your free hand to rest your leather-gloved hand against his. “I’d think that you would know that I can handle myself after you saw me hunt the moose at the young Prince’s name day just this year.”

His hand dropped from your arm as he cleared his throat in awkwardness, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find a way to proceed, unable to form appropriate thoughts as every thought in his mind wondered how long you’d known. All he could bring himself to do was watch as you made your way across the ledge, disappearing behind the waterfall. Unwilling still to leave you alone, he hurried to follow after you, being just careful enough not to fall. Before long he had joined you in a small, icy cave where some furs and old books lay about. It was clear this was a place entirely your own.

“You said nothing about my presence for hours that night,” Criston finally pondered aloud when he joined you, only to be greeted in response with a small laugh.

“I had no clue what could even be said. I thought you were going to turn me in to the Crown…and today when I heard the dragon, I thought it was certain that you had finally confessed what you saw. I was, for a moment, afraid of what consequences I was to face. Of the shame I’d caused my house.” You were admitting deep feelings to him with no real understanding as to why it was so easy to do so. All he could do was watch you in wonder, brown eyes fixated on yours as he listened. “But Princess Rhaenyra doesn’t know, does she? You haven’t told a soul.”

“I haven’t told a soul. It is a secret I hold to myself.”

“Why? Why do you do that?”

You stepped further into the caves to coax him in with you, away from anything in the woods that could possibly hear the two of you and be disturbed. Your questioning did not come from a place of anger, he noted, and instead you sounded almost affectionate. It was easy to tell you the truth, no matter how shameful it was.

“I’m afraid I do not have an answer for you, m’lady,” he began, drawing in a deep breath. “I can’t begin to explain anything you’ve done to me since I saw you remove that helmet, or take down that moose with a single arrow from your bow, or walk down the stairs in that gown. I -”

His would-be passionate monologue was cut short as he attempted to step nearer, straying from your path and hitting an icy patch. His foot began to slip beneath him and as you stepped forward his hands reached out, grasping your hips and holding onto you tightly to steady himself, pulling you flush against him. Despite the thick furs and leathers you wore you could feel the cool of the metal from his armor, and it sent a chill down your spine, no matter how badly you wanted to be this close to him.

Your hands grasped at his armored shoulders, thankful for the thick gloves against the metal, in an attempt to steady him further. You smiled at his clear attempt to get closer to you, tilting your head back to look into his face.

“It must have been hard for you in the Dornish Marches since you’re so horrid in the snow. Isn’t it quite cold in the Red Mountains?”

This close, you found yourself unable to resist thinking about what his golden skin would feel like against yours, finding it near impossible to resist reaching forward to run your fingers through what looked like incredibly soft waves. A quiet laugh fell from his lips at your subtle accusation, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he stood back to his full height.

“You’ll forgive me, m’lady. I couldn’t resist an excuse for time alone with you,” he conceded, silently admitting what you already knew in your heart. Over your clothes you could feel his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips, and whether he was aware he was doing it or not, you certainly made note of it. “I thought the Targaryens were interesting when I first met them, but they’re really all the same. You…are truly one-of-a-kind, if I may say so.”

Your cheeks burned despite the increased cold in the dark, icy cave – a near-impossible invitation for him to remove his gauntlets and reach out to touch them. He wondered if you would be cool or warm to the touch…he wondered if your lips would feel the same against his, about how soft they could possibly feel. Before he could give into a temptation there was no coming back from he withdrew, releasing a deep breath from his chest as you looked at him with a flustered look.

“It grows colder, m’lady. I should return you to the warmth of the castle before we both freeze where we stand.”

You didn’t fight with his logic, embarrassed by the moment you’d caught yourself in with the man. Withdrawing from him entirely you made your way back out of the cave, placing your hood back over your head as you awaited him to join you in the journey back to the castle. The awkwardness of the fleeting moment soon passed and the two of you found yourselves in a comfortable conversation once more as you made your way back to Winterfell. Every moment that passed with you he learned something new that made him wish he had connected his lips to yours, and yet, a small dutiful voice in the back of his mind insisted on reminding him of his vows.

He learned of how you’d learned to hunt and exist with the wolves, and how despite your slightly-older twin brother’s skill – you were undoubtedly the best in the family. While your brother had been wed for a couple of years now, one child already running free beneath his legs, you remained uncoupled.

“My betrothed was killed. In the Stepstones,” you explained, no sadness truly found in your voice. “It was years before we were meant to marry, but there have been no…suitable matches offered since. He was the future Lord Bolton, and my father…you met him. He is quite the intense man.”

“It is a shame to the realm if you do not find a suitable husband, m’lady, though I am inclined to agree with your father. Perhaps no man in Westeros deserves you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his continued playfulness, the serious moments between the two of you never lasting terribly long. As with most passage of time, the return to your home passed entirely too quickly, and all too soon it would be time for the two of you to part. It was only just before sunrise by the time you two made it back within the gates, taking advantage of the remaining darkness to place horses in their rightful places. You went your separate ways once inside, wishing one another a good night before retreating to a solitude that seemed much lonelier than it ever had before.

The following night, after you had slept most of the day away, gone for a brief hunt with Man Eater, and enjoyed a hot dinner standing in the kitchen alone, and relaxed in a hot bath, you found yourself wandering the halls of the castle in a light dressing gown, a long, elegant robe wrapped around you. The third time you’d entered the hall closest to the room he was staying in he was waiting there for you, full armor minus the helmet as per usual. Tonight, however, he wore a new wrap across his broad shoulders – the pelt of a red wolf. The view of the color set against his skin did nothing to satiate the thoughts you were harboring toward him.

You were not alone in your struggle. Your hair had dried as it naturally did after your hot bath, no braids hiding the locks from his full view. Your dressing gown and robe were black, making it perfect for holding in heat, and yet the sheer fabric left very little out of his sight. It was potentially disastrous of him to show you the appreciation he felt you deserved, and yet he was no longer certain of his normally unwavering self-control.

“I thought I might join you as I take a final look around the castle,” he explained, his eyes meeting yours in a hopeful gaze that was impossible for you to deny. Your lips curled into that beautiful smile once again, a nod of your head giving into him. He joined you at your side as the voice he’d missed across mere hours filled his ears once again.

“You may escort me back to my chambers, Ser Criston.” The smile on his face was unmistakable, a hopeful bubble rolling in his stomach at the mere thought of what you were intending by so clearly seeking him out. Still, he set a casual pace as the two of you walked, falling into your normal ease once again. “That is a fine fur you’ve been gifted with, Ser.”

“From your twin, m’lady,” he smiled, his head turning to meet your gaze momentarily. “While beautiful, I must admit a fox is a less impressive trophy than a large moose.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his flattery, his willingness to build your confidence, his acceptance of how you chose to live your life. While he expressed his unease and worry for your safety and future several times, he never seemed to push, seeming to understand your sense of adventure and that you could, certainly, control yourself. While the conversation flowed easily between the two of you like had become the norm between you, there was still a tension in the air – the tension of a kiss that didn’t happen. You took the longest route possible to return to your room, and once outside the familiar door, the conversation took a serious turn.

“The Princess received a raven this morning and we must begin our return to Kings Landing tomorrow,” he explained, the disappointment evident behind his voice and gaze. The frown that formed on your features immediately pulled at his heart, hating the feeling of being your source of disappointment. “But…she would like to invite you to be a guest of the crown this Spring, when the snow has lifted from Winterfell. Will you join us there for a tournament? I will partake and I would enjoy your favor.”

You blushed again and found a bashful giggle passing your lips, biting at your bottom lip lightly as you nodded in agreement. You turned your gaze to meet his, finding the excitement lightening his normal seriousness behind then, and you felt another moment of bravery, a moment you’d wished you’d had the night before. Reaching behind you you opened the door to your chamber, happy to immediately feel the heat from a recently-lit fireplace radiating from the room.

Stepping inside you beckoned him in, glad to see it didn’t require much convincing as he glanced around himself once more before following, closing the door quietly behind him. He was soon standing before you in front of the fireplace, the glow of the flames illuminating him in the most beautiful fashion.

"The Princess has requested my presence in the Spring..." you began, stepping closer to him as fixing your gaze on his once again. "But what of you, Ser Criston? Do you request my presence in the Spring?"

"I would request it sooner, m'lady," he explained quietly, giving into the feelings he was experiencing around you now that you were behind a closed door. His affectionate reply faltered your normally playful confidence and he found himself stepping forward to close the distance between the two of you. As he spoke next, you were already reaching for him before even being invited. "All the more reason for me to see you tonight."

Gently removing a gauntlet from his right hand, your eyes met his once again, dropping the heavy metal on the fur rug beneath your feet. The soft, cold skin of your hand greeted his in warmth as it soaked in the heat from his own skin, your fingers lacing between the two of you as he fought himself mentally, mind spinning with the possible consequences he could face if he gave into the desires you presented him with. Sensing his apprehension you rose on your toes to reach him, your lips covering his in an encouraging and earnest kiss. All rational thought melted at the softness of your lips against his.

He pulled his other gauntlet off himself then, desperate to cup your rosy cheeks between his hands as he returned your kiss, holding you to him as he fulfilled a waking dream that had clouded his mind for months. A happy sigh released from your chest and onto his lips as you felt him hold you close, the warmth radiating between the two of you as your hands found their way to the back of his head. Once they’d reached their destination your fingers laced into his slightly-curled locks, giving a light tug which you were rewarded for with a quiet, barely audible groan.

It was then he felt a bit too much of his remaining self-control falter, his hands sliding from your cheeks to slide under the thin robe covering your body, landing on your hips. The sheer material did very little to cover you from him and the warmth radiated from his hands against your cool skin, his fingertips digging in deeper as his tongue slipped into your mouth. The deepening kiss was too much for either of you to handle and in perfect synchronization you sank to your knees, following his lead as he pulled you to straddle his lap.

Ser Criston was not always talkative, and now was one of those moments as he focused his attention on enjoying this moment, on savoring what he'd craved since first seeing you all those months ago. Sliding his hands to push your night gown up your legs ever-so-slowly he took in the feeling of your soft skin beneath his fingertips, pulling back for a deep breath. As you took advantage of the moment to breathe he recovered quickly, immediately beginning to trail kisses down your neck.

The small whimpers that left your mouth put his mind in a fog, covering any voice within him that may had argued at the moment. Finding himself unable to resist curiosity again he leaned his head back to yours to reclaim your lips, slowly pushing your underwear to the side and running a finger along your slick folds, finding where all of the heat in your body remained. A groan left his lips again at the confirmation of how wet you were for him before he slipped that same finger into you experimentally, enjoying how you gasped against his lips but did not break the kiss.

All-too-soon he removed the singular digit, pulling away from your kiss to slide the finger into his mouth. A deep moan, combined perhaps with a growl, broke free of his chest as his eyes fluttered closed, savoring every drop you'd offered him. You were irresistible, almost as a forbidden fruit — he knew within his logical mind he could not have you and yet, he found it was the only thing he could yearn for. His mind flooded with scolding thoughts about his behavior, and yet he couldn't help but feel the action was worth it - no matter how badly it made him want more.

"You will be the end of me, m'lady," he cooed, leaning upward to press a kiss to your forehead before helping you back to your feet with him, making an obvious attempt to steady your breathing. As he escorted you to your bed he placed gentle kisses against your lips, desperately attempting to bury the thoughts that were begging to burst through again. "I will see you in just a few months' time, m'lady. Until the next."

With his absence, you immediately got to work rebuilding the emotional walls you usually fortified around yourself, unwilling to feel the emptiness and disappointment of him leaving in the morning. You would see Ser Criston again in the Spring.

Spring, 113 A.C., King's Landing

The half-a-year that passed before the Spring tournament in Kings Landing was excruciating, each day bringing a previously unimaginable level of longing forth in two people with weeks between them.

Ser Criston Cole was dutiful, as always, and fulfilled his vow to protect the crown day in and day out, but his duty was no longer the primary occupation of his mind. There was always the thought of you – always a reminder of your radiant smile, the whisper of your voice on the wind, the occasional mention of your House. Often, he wondered if thinking of you so often was his punishment for his temptation for you, because often it was akin to torture to have every moment so full of you, and yet so empty.

You’d never noticed how cold Winterfell truly was until Criston had left, taking with him what seemed like every bit of warmth. It went unnoticed by your family how frozen over you became, blatant and longer excursions into the forest becoming a pattern they were forced to adapt to. Time passed differently in the thick, lonesome darkness of the forest, and not knowing how long it had been since he had kissed you was often preferable. You were often desperate to forget how long you had to wait still to see him again.

It was the sweetest relief you had ever felt when Ser Grandin had announced the pair of you would set off for the journey to King's Landing in three days' time. When the raven arrived in the capital to announce that the young Lady of House Stark had embarked and was eager to join the Princess, Criston was present to hear the news. It was the most peaceful sleep he had been graced with in months to know you would be within his reach again soon enough.

It did anger him initially when the Princess flew on Syrax to a mid-way point to check-in with you and your Knight escort, because all his mind could focus on was the jealousy that filled him. When Rhaenyra returned to the castle and reported you were in good health and had bid her to tell him “Hello,” anger was the last thing on his mind. All he could think about from that day forward was the day he could return your greeting. The day you arrived is the day he knew his life was never going to return to what it had been before the young Prince’s name day.

It was the early hours of the morning when the call came to assemble in the throne room. Knowing what day had finally come made Criston rush through putting on his armor, wishing to get to his position as quickly as possible, unwilling to risk even a moment of missing you.

When your arrival was announced by Ser Grandin, your stomach was bubbling with excitement on the other side of the door, knowing you were about to see him again. When the door swung open for you and you stepped your way into the throne room, you were overjoyed to see that only a small assembly awaited you – with Criston within your sight immediately. It didn’t matter that he was covered by his helmet – it was him, you could run to him in seconds, and that was enough.

He could never forget how beautiful you were but seeing you again now it hit him all over again, the only image of you living in his memory. The familiar tightness in his chest returned as he took in everything about you, thankful his wandering eye was hidden from anyone who may be looking his way. You’d done the best you could in wearing your lightest gown, though your gowns had thus far been reserved exclusively for wear in the North, so even your lightest was too heavy. It trailed behind you, long and black, with your usual silver fox fur wrapped lightly around your shoulders, and your hair freshly washed and un-styled thanks to your travel with only a man. Criston preferred it this way and hoped it would remain such long enough for him to get you alone and run his fingers through it – though he knew it was doubtful.

You managed to resist averting your gaze to the one man you wanted to as you walked closer, ultimately sinking to a knee and bowing your head before the King with a light smile on your face. It made sense that your first smile would be for the King, but the jealous twist of Criston’s stomach was difficult for him to ignore – it should have been for him. When the King instructed you to rise Rhaenyra stepped forward, extending her arms to you for a light embrace. Being a Targaryen and being able to have and do exactly what you wanted was something Criston was finally growing to understand the envy of.

“Ser Criston,” came the familiar low grumble of Ser Grandin beside him, an impressively quiet arrival for such a large man. His voice remained quiet, reserved only for the member of the Kingsguard. “My Lady bids you good morning and wishes you well in the events today.”

Criston, once again glad for his helmet, smiled in content, reminded that no matter how important the people you currently held conversation with were, to you the best thing about being here was being close to him again. Absent-mindedly he took a step forward toward you before remembering himself, stepping back beside the Northern Knight. Instead, he settled on a quiet voice, taking what he could from what was presented to him. “Did she travel well, Ser Grandin?”

A barely-there laugh sounded in the other man, his tone mockingly annoyed. “She traveled well and eager. I could hardly get her to take a day of rest. Without me, she’d have arrived a week ago.”

He wouldn’t get a moment alone with you before the day began, but he was thankful for at least a moment with Rhaenyra, who had expressed that he should request your favor for the tournament. She had insisted on the matter, in fact, stating that it would be an excellent sign of friendship between the Crown and the North. When Ser Criston rode the first round of the tournament and won (naturally), he brought his horse around to where you now sat next to the Princess.

Helmet removed as he approached, he could now look you straight in the eye for the first time in half-a-year, and the simple action knocked the wind from him more than any lance could. A small smile played on his lips as he held your gaze, if only for a moment too long.

“My Lady,” he greeted, bowing his head slightly. The heat had created a layer of sweat over his skin, his hair slickening under his helmet, and the sight caused a blush to creep over your face. “It would be my honor to fight in your name today.”

The blush across your face deepened, a smile spreading just as quickly as you rose to your feet, walking to stand before the railing that separated you from him. Over the crowd, your verbal response was heard only from him. “If you are to fight in my name, Ser, then I should hope you win it all. I would hate for a loss to soil my name.”

The amused smile that spread across his features reached his eyes, a mischievous glimmer playing in the pools there. A stiff nod accompanied his words. “Yes, m’lady. I would not dream of tarnishing your good name with failure.”

As you reached for the longer of the two chains that hung around your neck, the contents at the end of the chain tucked within your dress, your eyes stayed locked with his in silent communication. There were no words to explain the happiness of seeing him once again, of feeling his gaze on you. You pulled the often-hidden necklace from your neck and handed it slowly to him, Criston immediately taking in the large tooth that was attached at the end.

“From my first kill,” was the simple explanation, the four words carrying enough weight for him to understand. This was important to you, and it was a much better token of your favor than any fine piece of fabric could be. Placing it around his own neck he tucked it under his armor, an appreciative smile falling on his features again.

“I will not disappoint, m’lady,” he promised, the glimmer in his eye growing with each second he looked at you. With a final smile he replaced his helmet, riding back to await his next round.

Losing was not an option for Ser Criston Cole during the day’s events. One could make a compelling argument that the man regularly went overboard on his opponents, none of them standing any real chance. The final round showed Ser Criston Cole facing the current Lord Bolton and remembering your former betrothed had belonged to that family, Criston took extra care to embarrass the man. The words he’d spoken to you rang through once more, his point proven – none of them were worthy of you.

Following the excitement was to be a celebratory feast in the castle with you as the guest of honor to the Crown and Ser Criston the winner of the day. As you made your way through the halls of the castle again beside your own escort again, you were soon in front of the door to your borrowed chambers for your time in the Capital. In front of your chambers, however, awaited the winner himself.

“I will take place at the end of the hall, my Lady,” Ser Grandin spoke, immediately turning to walk back to the end of the hall for a moment’s privacy between you and the Knight. As you rushed to close the distance between the two of you his helmet was removed, dropped to the floor with little care of the noise it would create as he welcomed you back into his arms.

The armor that separated him from you fully was an extreme annoyance but feeling held by him would have to be good enough, even if it was against metal. His forehead lowered to meet with yours in a tender gesture, both of you closing your eyes as a moment of peace finally passed over you.

“I have missed you, m’lady. You have haunted my every thought and dream since the moment I left you,” he whispered only for you, his hands sliding to your lower back to pull you closer.

“Each day was a week, and each week an eternity,” came the sweetest reply from you he could have imagined, his lips pressing to yours in a kiss while a quiet hum rang in his throat.

“The pain grew by the day,” he whispered, his lips moving against your skin as he found himself completely unwilling to pull away.

“I did not know a moment of true peace until I saw you this morning,” you admitted, finding sharing emotions with him came as naturally as breathing. Your own lips pressed against his nose gently, the soft action sending his senses alight. He stood there like that with you for so much longer than he should have, holding you and enjoying the mere fact of having you in his grasp again.

Eventually the light kisses to your forehead weren’t enough and he lowered his head to press his lips to yours softly in a chaste kiss, his hands sliding to hold the sides of your head gently. You returned his kiss happily, hands reaching to hold his wrists as a blissful sigh passed through your lips. He smiled into the kiss, pulling you closer momentarily before withdrawing, kissing your forehead once again as he went.

“If the Crown asks me what I would like for my win today, I will name you as my prize, m’lady,” he spoke, masking the honesty and yearning in his words with a lining of humor. “The Treasure of the North, all for myself.”

The laugh that fell from your lips was award enough for his efforts today, the light reaching your eyes as you stood on your toes to kiss him once more. You sank to your knees slowly and quietly, eyes never leaving his as your hand reached to grab the helmet he’d discarded to the ground before standing back up, placing the helmet back in his hand. “I will see you at the feast, Ser Criston.”

With a gentle squeeze to your hand, he fully released you, turning to exit down the hall as you stood in momentary silence before entering your borrowed chambers. After another cool bath to tame your body temperature you were joined by various handmaidens who all doted on perfuming and styling your hair, manicuring your fingernails, and helping you dress in a gown that had been sent by the Princess herself. Once the dress was secured and you were left alone to look at the results, you had to wonder if Rhaenyra had a plot of her own this evening.

The gown was so light and fine it seemed to flow about you almost as a liquid, the white fabric shimmering like snow with every movement you made. The arms and high collar were made up of a separate lace, sewn together by someone with care. Finally, a true sign of your house draped across your shoulders and upper back, the fur of a wolf shielding more of you from eyes that would pry.

“My Lady, the Crown will not thank you if you are late,” Ser Grandin’s rough voice greeted from behind you, his masked face waiting for you as you turned around. With a smile you clasped your hands together in front of you, eyes still shining with their normal mischief.

“Let us walk then, Ser,” you teased, your formal words pulling a laugh from your sworn protector’s chest as he held open the door for you. Once the two of you were well on your way to the gathering outdoors, he opted to voice his concerns with caution.

“You must be careful, my Lady,” he spoke plainly, knowing you would tell him to do so if he had asked permission. You turned your head upward to glance at him before carrying forward, waiting for him to continue. “That boy isn’t a nobody squire running around the halls of Winterfell, with only your father’s wrath to face. He’s a member of the Kingsguard, and Targaryens are not known for their forgiving nature.”

Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth your eyes glanced over to him, taking a deep breath to contemplate your words. “There’s no need to worry yourself. He is just nice company to keep, Ser Grandin.”

“Oh, he seems wonderful, my Lady,” he teased, leading you around the next corner. “The echoing sounds of your kissing in the hall behind me indicate he is very nice company indeed.”

A stifled giggle sounded from your lips as you shot him a pointed look which was met with nothing but the smallest smile as he walked through massive double doors to introduce you to those who had already assembled. When you followed behind you offered a small smile to the royal family, taking a knee and bowing your head slightly. With a delighted smile Rhaenyra invited you to rise and take the seat with her, and thus the feast could properly begin. It wasn’t long before the newest member of the Kingsguard removed his helmet, eyes meeting yours from across the room with a smile.

The feasts in Winterfell were never as lavish as anything the Red Keep could offer, and it was easy to indulge in the food and drink they had to offer to the point where when the dancing started, you were hardly sure if you could join. Rhaenyra insisted, of course, and as she was the heir to the throne it would not be wise to turn her down. Throughout the night you stole several looks at Criston whenever your eyes could find him, only to be pleased to find his eyes sought yours just the same. The stolen glances did not remain unnoticed, though the eyes that saw them did not care.

It was when he noticed the elder Lannister brother ask you for a dance that his fingers curled, hands balling into a fist as he watched you politely oblige the wealthy Lord – the wealthy Lord who could give you gowns, and castles, and children. Feeling the distaste that covered his face he placed his helmet back on, seething into the hot metal and unaware of the Princess as she joined at his side.

“The Lannisters may be wealthy, but they are certainly not graceful,” she joked, her eyes glancing upward toward the taller man. “You have no need to worry, Ser Criston. She seems quite taken with you, as well, I am certain your affections are returned.”

His helmeted eyes turned toward, his head facing her to communicate his seriousness. “I don’t have affections, Princess,” he responded coolly, turning his head forward again to watch your movements in secret. The Princess smiled, shaking her head slightly at his foolishness before facing forward herself.

“You should not lie to the Princess, Ser Criston. I must be able to trust you, after all,” she continued to joke, enjoying the subtle huff that sounded through the metal. The sound pulled a small laugh from her, the mischief glowing in her eyes as she pressed on. “You could just admit it, you know. I am someone who understands that cruelties of obligation.”

He did want to admit it. In his heart and mind, he knew that you were the answer to a question he’d long been asking, the tightening in his chest every time he thought of you confirming you were the woman meant for him. He had fallen for you in just over a year since he’d met you, your simple existence haunting his dreams and tormenting every waking moment of his life with the sheer reminder of you, just out of reach. And here now he wanted to admit it more – to stand on a table and proclaim his love for you; to grasp you away from the Lannister who was stalking around you like prey; to announce to the world that you were his. The woman to his side just served as a reminder as to why he could not.

“It is an honor to serve the Crown, Princess,” he attempted to bury it all again, only managing to pull his eyes away from you for a moment. The longer he dwelled on you, the more his mind strayed to the fact that for the first time since being chosen for his position he wanted to break the most important vow he’d ever made.

“It is a shame, then,” she started, finishing her drink as the Lannister placed his hands on your shoulders in an affectionate gesture. “There is a large bear in the Crownlands that must be handled. I had hoped to send you to address the task…with the assistance of our guests from the North. They are used to animals of its size, and her wolf could prove a worthy hunting companion.”

He was thankful once again for his facial coverings, knowing his mouth fell open slightly as he turned to look at the Princess, who was already facing forward again with that same playful smile on her lips. There was nothing to mask the surprise in his voice. “You would send me away with her and her knight to hunt a bear?”

“Oh, Gods no, Ser Criston,” she replied, the appalled tone to her voice obviously false. “I would hope that he will stay behind and the two of you can handle the beast yourselves. He’d just slow you down.” A proper response evaded him, instead removing his helmet once more so she could see the emotions behind his expressive eyes, silently questioning and thanking simultaneously. “I will take that as a yes. You will leave tomorrow before I can change my mind.”

With that the Princess left his side, removing you from the Lannister’s grasp with the request of joining her for a walk in the gardens with your wolf before turning in for the night. The Lannister was clearly disappointed but bowed his head respectfully to both of you before departing. To Criston’s joy, he caught the way your lips moved in a simple “thank you” to the Princess, presumably for taking you away from the golden-haired man. Criston watched as Ser Grandin joined the two of you from behind and resigned to finishing the events in the hall, content with having his thoughts to himself for a moment. The moments passed quickly with you burned into his mind, and before long his feet had once again carried him to the door of your borrowed bedchamber, the older knight excusing himself at his arrival.

A light knock startled you from where you sat brushing your hair, but assuming something was needed from you from your knight you pulled the thin robe around yourself before walking to the door. Criston’s handsome face was a much more pleasant surprise, and you felt the smile spread across your face immediately. His head bowed slightly in respect, a light smile playing on his lips as his gaze found yours as soon as it could. “M’lady, forgive me for the intrusion so late.”

“Ser Criston, have you come to claim your prize from your win today?” Your playful question was enough to draw him closer to you, his cock beginning to strain slightly under pants and armor at the mere insinuation of your words. His hand found your hip as his eyes glanced the length of the hall again before he leaned forward, placing a small kiss to your lips.

“I have come to ask for your company on a hunt in the Crownlands,” he began, certain he needed to get the question out before the logical side of his mind could take over his decision-making process. “Princess Rhaenyra says there is a large bear that is becoming troublesome, and it is her opinion that you would be valuable to take along…as you are used to large bears in the North.”

The smile on your face softened a bit, your nose brushing against his as you stood on your toes to ensure your closeness to him. He took some of the strain off of you by wrapping an arm around your waist tightly, holding you up and against him as gently as he could. He was certain the expression in your eyes mirrored his own, and somehow the fact made everything significantly harder. “When would you be whisking me away, Ser?”

“It would be nice to leave the city before the sun rises, m’lady,” he started, his free hand sliding to cup your face and hold you closer. “It is my preference that the city is still asleep when we ride through it. I would worry myself sick about you if it were awake.”

A soft kiss from you silenced his anxiety, your gentle lips coaxing him back to calm as he returned it tenderly. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from him, so you spoke your answer against his lips quietly. “I will go with you, Criston. I cannot worry myself over you getting eaten by a bear in your absence.”

Only hours would pass before you would be awoken by Grandin, the disapproval clear in his voice as he told you to get dressed and quietly join him in the hall. As the two of you walked through the castle together, he felt it was his duty to try to persuade you back into reason before he accepted your mind was made up, instead choosing to focus his time on giving you additional hunting pointers. The walk was leisurely in the early morning, and as Criston waited to be reunited with you, he waited in agony. These hours passing without you served as a taste of how it would be when you were taken back to the North, away from him again, and the thought was already plaguing him.

He’d almost convinced himself that you weren’t coming, imagining foolish scenarios where your other suitor from the evening had made his way into your chambers. It was a relief when you approached in the dark, a long and hooded cloak covering your body to conceal who was sneaking about the Red Keep at this hour. It made his stomach warm to think that you’d gone to all the trouble for him.

“Good morning, m’lady,” he greeted softly with a smile, his expression doing nothing to hide how happy he was to see you. Shrouded by the darkness and the stable walls he walked forward to claim your face in his hands, placing a much-needed kiss to your lips while his thumbs brushed over your cheeks. “You’re confident you still want to join me?”

His lips were still so close to yours they brushed yours as he spoke, and he could feel the smile that formed at his questioning. “Yes, Ser Criston. You’re not getting rid of me now.”

“I should hope not,” he relented, reaching to press his lips to your forehead. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks still, and you hoped that soon you’d be alone once more and able to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Grandin left with Man Eater hours ago. They will meet us at the tree line, and he’ll return to the castle to guard my door for a few days…I am terribly ill and should not be disturbed, after all. The Southern heat getting to my delicate Northern self,” you explained, pressing your lips to his nose gently before pulling away. Climbing onto the horse waiting for you, already saddled and loaded with gear thanks to the man before you, you adjusted your hood to cover more of your face and waited for him to join.

The two of you set off before the sun had painted the sky, intent on making your way through the city before its inhabitants began bustling for the day. You were quiet while in the city, silently passing bread, fruits and cheeses back and forth along with your stolen glances. Once free from the clutter of the city and prying eyes, you were able to lower your hood and turn your head to meet his gaze fully with a smile.

“I am relieved to be alone with you again, m’lady,” he admitted, the seriousness that normally laced his tone still present but lighter now that he was removed from his responsibilities. You pulled the horse you sat atop to a slow stop, waiting for him to mimic the action. As he stopped and turned to face you, he was greeted with you removing the thick cloak, revealing the plain white blouse that you’d surely stolen from a brother and tight riding pants that hugged your waist. While the lack of armor showed more of a risk than he was comfortable with when it came to you, he was appreciative to see you how you were the most comfortable in the golden light of the morning sun.

Once you’d met with your trusted protector and reunited with your closest companion, Ser Grandin excused himself back toward the city as the new trio made their way into the trees, disappearing from prying eyes for however long you could get away with. The two of you rode that way for hours, side by side as you discussed your childhoods, your passions, your hatred. Criston found that these conversations only made him fall for you even more, the person hiding far beneath the surface deserving of much more than the world could offer you.

And for you, Criston represented everything you had dreamt of for your life. He had seen so much in his time in combat, already seen far more of Westeros than you probably ever would, and now held the opportunity to live a comfortable life alongside the Crown. He was charming, and consistently attentive to you as you spoke, his eyes giving away how entranced he was by your stories and his smile confirming his growing affection. You were the new center of his world, and he was unsure if he was willing to allow it to be off-balance ever again – he needed you to ground him.

The conversation was effortless as always and it seemed like no time at all before the sky began to redden, the sun beginning to set. As you dismounted your horse to set up camp with Criston in a small clearing you sent Man Eater out to hunt, keen on having him return to camp before it got terribly late. As Criston set in on the tent assembly you excused yourself to hunt for dinner, managing to bring three rabbits and some berries back to the camp in what seemed like no time at all. To your surprise, only one tent was raised – though you didn’t mention it. After nurturing a fire together and finishing a perfectly roasted dinner the two of you sat leaned against a large rock, a thick fur beneath you for comfort as you soaked in the warmth from the fire and one another. Eventually you leaned against him, soothed by the crackling of flames and warmth, only to be pushed away gently.

“I’ll…remove my armor, m’lady,” he stated, his words soft and gentle as his eyes met yours. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you shook your head slightly, your hands slowly reaching forward to remove one of his gauntlets as it had already done so many months ago. His eyes stayed transfixed on yours as you began to work the armor free from his body, eventually leaving him clad in only a loose white shirt and black pants.

It was a test of his will to not claim your lips in his once again as those tender moments passed. Your soft hands lingered in too many places he wanted them to stay longer, his mind alight with the possibilities of being alone with you, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to silence his mind forever in this setting.

But it was your eyes – so soft and sincere and content to drink in every new inch of him that was exposed by the discarding of armor – that made him lean down to press a kiss to your lips. With no one else around to hear his words, he whispered against your lips the confession that had tormented him for so many months. “M’lady,” he began, the slight shake to his voice already showing itself despite his best efforts. “I must admit that you have plagued my thoughts all of these many months since we first met. It is causing me much grief; despite the happiness you bring me. I have never before questioned my vow the way I do now with you.”

Your hands found their way to either side of his face, the stubble growing there scratching against your thumbs as you ran them across the expanses of his cheeks. A sympathetic nod encouraged him to continue, his nerves faltering at your gentle demeanor. He swallowed noticeably, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever spoken about his emotions like this with someone before. “I think of you every waking moment, and as if that is not enough torment itself, you also walk through my very dreams every night. Meeting you so many months ago…it has set my heart and soul on a path I fear I can never stray from.”

The smile that grew on your lips and reached your eyes was enough to comfort his busy mind, and when you leaned forward to press your forehead to his in his favorite intimate gesture, any resolve he had left melted away for whatever time the two of you would be allowed to share during the hunt. Tipping his head slightly his nose bumped against yours, eliciting a small laugh from your lips that could soothe even the wildest of dragons. Your voice was all cool and collected, a contrast to the burning fire felt in his chest at the closeness to you, at his untamed desire for you.

“I have heard it said often that one should not travel alone,” you began, choosing your words carefully as his lips gravitated toward yours ever-so-slowly. He was so close that when you spoke next, your lips lightly brushed against his – only coaxing him closer and closer to collapse. “Perhaps it is a good thing I have started down this path with you, as well, Ser Criston.”

It almost pulled a whine from his chest, the tenderness you displayed for him – the continued proving of his suspicion that he was brought into existence to love you. The curve of your lips in a smile was felt against his, your eyes gazing into his and sparkling like something forbidden. He spoke barely above a sigh, his mind more focused on other tasks for his mouth than talking. “You are a temptress, m’lady…”

His lips claimed yours then, swallowing the soft sound of approval that passed in the brief moment before you returned his heated kiss. His hands finally claimed your hips, pulling you against him firmly as goosebumps raised over his arms, the quiet whine now releasing from his lips at the feeling of you against him. Noticing your strain to reach him, he sank back to the ground, pulling you with him until you were straddled in his lap comfortably.

This was the first kiss that had been allowed to grow to this intensity between the two of you and was perhaps the first kiss in your life to leave you as breathless as this with a pounding heart. Sensing your need for air he released your lips, opening his eyes to appreciate the red hue to your cheeks before he began to lower his head, trailing gentle kisses down the soft skin of your neck. One of his hands hesitantly slid to start at the laces of your shirt and when you didn’t stop him, he continued until they had been worked free. His slow movements were soon mirrored by you and eventually snowballed until the only clothing that remained were thin undergarments, most of your skin barred to the cool night air.

He leaned you backward then, taking place between your thighs as he desperately sought your lips again, his tongue taking advantage of the quiet moan that left your lips to slip into your mouth. The heat pooling at your core so intensely it was making you desperate for friction, a sentiment echoed by him. Experimentally he ground his hips down into yours, his throbbing erection growing impossibly harder at just the feeling of rubbing against you. A newfound impatience overtaking him he thrust the black hose you still wore down your legs with one hand, seeking to reconnect his hand with your core immediately. He was encouraged by the soft moan the fell from your lips, your eyes opening to soak in the enamored look he gave you.

Running a thick finger through your drenched folds he ran his tongue over his lips, eyes transfixed on your face as he dipped the same finger into your awaiting hole just slightly. A quiet whimper and the gentle bucking of your hips into his hand encouraged the finger to sink in deeper, the solitary digit welcomed by warm, tight walls that were so sensitive they clenched around him tighter and tighter. When there was nothing more for him to add he curled the finger slightly, seeking to rub against the sensitive patch within you he knew was there from prior experience with women – all while he lowered his head to press gentle kisses across the expanse of your chest.

When he sucked the first of your nipples into his mouth the tip of his finger brushed against the spot, and his name passed through your lips in a reverent moan, a tone that would replay in his mind forever. Suckling the sensitive bud into his mouth he began to pump his finger into you, eyes flickering up to ensure your face displayed no hesitancy still, only to be met with your head thrown back in bliss. He knew, though, that he could do better – that he could bring you to the depths of pleasure that you deserved.

Releasing the hardened nipple from his mouth and moving to place a gentle kiss to the other, his kisses found the perfect trail down your soft skin by way of your stomach before he reached your hips, pressing a light kiss to each of them as well. With one last glance to your face, he lowered his head, almost hesitantly running his flattened tongue through your folds and to your clit and waiting for you to respond. The response he earned by the simple motion was almost a scream, your hands immediately grasping at the back of his head and fingers entangling in his curls. He couldn’t hold back the smile that formed on his face briefly before he continued in his chosen task, removing his finger to carry on how he wanted.

Running his tongue back through your folds he prodded at your tight entrance, licking around the hole to savor every bit of your honey-sweet nectar that had dripped from you for him. His hand slid higher to connect his thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing a gentle circle on the sensitive nub as his tongue fucked into you desperately, no taste of you enough to satiate his hunger. Your moans were readily soaked in by his ears, his quiet groans against you in response sending vibrations to your body that had your walls clenching around his tongue faster than anticipated.

Your thighs came in closer to his head, holding him where you needed him most as they began to shake on either side of him, your fingers clutching his hair tighter. As your breaths shortened and became laced – each one of them – with quiet moans at the end he knew his tongue was bringing you to ecstasy and his cock continued to grow harder in his underpants. His thumb rubbed more intense circles around your clit as his free hand reached to push the restraints down, moaning against you at his throbbing cock finally being free.

Pulling back slightly and reaching to suck your clit into his lips gently he began to jerk his cock hard, uncaring about the act itself and only focused on being able to reach euphoria with you. A whimper from your lips communicated your disappointment and his resolve nearly melted before he spoke. “I…want to finish with you, my love. Please…just hold on for another moment for me.”

Despite the frustration of remaining with one foot off the cliff and wanting to complete the dive, you did your best to hold on for him, fixating your eyes on his and silently communicating all of the thoughts you wished you could speak aloud. He connected his mouth with you again when he felt himself approaching the edge, rubbing your clit once again as his tongue fucked into you, desperate to drink whatever you would offer him for his efforts.

“Criston…I…I can’t…I have to…” you panted, your nails digging into his scalp slightly as you fought hard to remain composure so you could fulfill his desires. He nodded the slightest confirmation he could, glad once again to be alone with you as your moan echoed through the trees for him. Your thighs shaking again, your walls clenched around his tongue as he began to spill his seed into the furs, unbothered by the mess he was creating as he drank every bit of your orgasm from you.

When both of you had finished and exchanged several bashful glances and kisses, an unspoken adoration passing between the two of you, he rose to his feet with you in his arms to carry you toward the tent. It was at that moment Man Eater emerged from the shadows to tuck himself outside of the tent for the night, the sight a comfort as Criston laid you atop the elaborate arrangement of furs he’d laid before you. As you continued to fight for a steady breath, he laid behind you, pulling you back against him and nestling your body into the curve of his. As he had always suspected, your bodies fit together like art, and soon the most peaceful sleep of your memories passed over you both as a final kiss was pressed to your shoulder.

It came as no surprise when it only took a day to be successful in the hunt, the three of you becoming the perfect hunting team and taking down a particularly large and nasty bear with seeming ease. Both of you elected to camp again for the night, using the excuse that it was unsafe to ride through the night – though the truth was soon revealed as the activities from the night before repeated themselves, only changing to include you accepting as much of his cock into your throat as you could take. At that point he already held no doubt that he could never be without you again, but when you’d elected to swallow his seed – holding him to you with your hands on the backs of his thighs – he decided you were with whatever turmoil was going to come his way due to his actions.

The following morning the two of you had set out once again, returning to the Red Keep under the cover of darkness with the bear’s head and pelt carried by your horses, a vibrant glow on both of you covered by armor and cloaks again. Returned to his duties he immediately began to wish he could have prolonged the hunt with you, because from the moment Princess Rhaenyra heard you returned to the castle, he could not get a moment alone with you – and such was the trend for days. The tension began to build in the air around the two of you soon, and you knew that Rhaenyra had to have taken notice of the stolen glances when she would choose to ask you once again if anything interesting had happened on the hunting trip.

“It is treason to lie to the heir to the throne, you know,” she joked one evening over a private dinner with you, her eyes flashing with knowing mischief that matched her smile. With a quiet sigh and a giggle, you shook your head, taking another drink of the rich Southern wine in front of you as you met her gaze.

“I have often heard it said it rude to share ones’ personal…happenings with others, your Grace,” you replied coolly, your eyes meeting hers and communicating your shared playfulness. She raised an eyebrow knowingly and smiled, raising her glass slightly before leaning back in her seat. The words would remain unspoken, and whatever assumption the Princess made may have been wrong – but ultimately, any exaggeration would not remain untrue for long.

When she excused herself to her bedchamber for the evening, she requested for your sworn protector to join her, stating she had begun to feel comfort around the man. Not one to refuse the Crown or a friend you gave in immediately, and though you were believed to set off for your own bedchamber – Rhaenyra called over her shoulder before her exit the directions to get you to your true desired location. Without so much as a second thought you found yourself rushing to Criston’s door, eager to reunite with him privately again.

The light knock against his door pulled him from his bed with a groan, expecting to be forced to return to his duty far sooner than intended and with far less sleep than needed. Bare feet carried him to the door as he pulled a shirt over his head, fingers adjusting his hair into a more presentable state before he swung the door open. Rather than a handmaiden or knight, he was greeted with the face of the one person his chest swelled to see.

Your hair was completely untamed, wild around you in a way that indicated you’d attempted to sleep as well, only to be met with unease. The long gown you’d been gifted to sleep in was more like something from your own home in color – silver – but it was so light and thin it was almost like there wasn’t anything there at all. Seeing your wide, wondrous eyes staring up at him with desire just outside of his door was the final spark needed for the flame that had been forming for over a year now to engulf him.

His hands reached for you before he could give himself the chance to be talked out of it, pulling you into his chambers and against his chest as he connected his lips to yours. Wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you against him he smiled into the kiss as he reached his free hand to lock the door. Your voice was already breathless and light, quiet and unsure in a way he hadn’t heard from you before.

“I couldn’t stay away,” you confessed on his lips, leaning your head back as he began to trail his kisses to your jaw, breathing in the combined smells of florals and furs that was so entirely you.

“I didn’t want you to, m’lady,” he confirmed, sitting on the bed when it hit the backs of his knees and lifting you to sit in his lap. Straddling his thick thighs required the gown to slide up your body, baring your thighs to him once again which were quickly claimed by his hands with a firm squeeze. His hands trailed up, sliding until they cupped your breasts eagerly. “What can I do for you, my treasure? What brings you here at this hour?”

As his thumbs lightly feathered over your hardening nipples you gasped, your eyes wide and dark with lust as they met his gaze again. He brought his lips to yours in a soft kiss, encouraging a response from you, needing to hear the confirmation of your desires. Your voice was already little more than a whimper, the intensity of his gaze alone enough to melt you. “Your tongue is better suited to occupations other than speaking, Ser Criston.”

Your gentle teasing pulled a laugh from him, the words you’d chosen enough. Desperate to be reunited with the taste of you he grasped your hips, lifting you once again to push you down onto the bed on your back, pulling you so your lower half was barely on the soft fabric. He stood for a moment still, pulling his shirt back over his head and tossing it to the side with little regard as to where it landed. Your gown would have to be removed eventually, but for now he was content to roll it up to your waist as he sank to his knees on the hard ground.

Suddenly shy again you kept your legs together, a quiet gasp falling from your lips as he leaned forward to run his warm lips up your right leg, his left hand following suit on the other. When he reached your knee, he gave a light nudge to push them open as he pressed a kiss just above your knee, silently begging for access. When your legs fell open at his bequest he inhaled, running his lips up your thigh as he sought out your already-dripping cunt. Keeping his right hand on its hold at your hip, his left found your core first, his index finger sliding against your folds tenderly to gather up the slick that had begun to pool between your legs.

“All this for me?” he pondered, trailing his kisses higher and higher as his finger barely dipped into you. A quiet moan slipped from your lips at the slight entry, a broken plea spoken into the night. You felt his lips curve into a smile as he placed another kiss tenderly against your thigh before turning his head to flick his tongue across your swollen clit as he buried the remainder of his finger in you.

His name fell from your lips again, louder this time, and was thanked with a groan of his own as he connected his lips around your clit, sucking gently on the sensitive nub as his finger curled within you. His new driving force found in hearing you come undone for him, he set out on his task with insatiable enthusiasm. Adding a second finger to you slowly elicited another gasp from you, his thick fingers beginning to work you open as his lips sucked against your clit gently, his tongue flicking in perfect sync with the movement of his fingers. You’d missed his mouth on you and it took no time with the combination of his fingers to make your thighs begin to shake, your breaths coming breathy as you approached an orgasm.

“C-Criston, please…” you whined, your eyes rolling into your head as he removed his fingers, making your upset at the loss of him known. He moved his hands quickly to flip you over, adjusting your position so you stayed up on your hands and knees while he pushed a pillow under your face.

“Bite, my love,” he instructed, brushing the hair out of your face and ensuring you’d still be able to breathe. “We can’t wake the castle while I drink everything I can from you.”

Any negativity you’d felt at the loss of his fingers was soon buried as he dipped his head again, licking a thick stripe against your folds before fucking his hot tongue into your leaking cunt. His fingers that were still slickened with your arousal reached around to rub your clit as he groaned into you, savoring how sweet you were for him and falling impossibly harder for you knowing that seeing you like this was a privilege all to himself. With his objective in sight, he wasted no time tipping you over the edge, grasping at your thigh as you gave him exactly what he wanted yet again.

His tongue eagerly swept up every bit of your nectar that he could find before he sucked against your clit once more, his eyes seeking to connect with yours as he flipped you over again. Instead of being met by your gaze he was gifted with the look on your face as you glowed with pleasure for him, your eyes closed in euphoria as your chest fought to catch breath. A gently placed trail of kisses to your lips gave you the time you needed, and by the time he reached your lips he was desperate. Your hand reached to find the laces of his pants and instead found his hands already there, untying and working to free himself of the restraints.

As you began to remove yourself from under him, intent on crawling down his body to wrap your lips around him once again, one of his hands reached to still your movements, pushing against your chest lightly to keep you lying back against the bed. His voice was barely above a growl as he gave into the desires he had vowed not to. “It’s not enough.”

Biting at your bottom lip as he stood from the bed to remove his pants your eyes found his again, the gentle affection blossoming in them enough to reaffirm the decision he’d made. Crawling onto the bed and back between your legs he pressed several gentle kisses to your lips as one of his hands cradled the side of your face.

“I would have never taken my vow had I known you were in the world,” he breathed, his forehead leaning against yours in the intimate gesture that was becoming a repeated motion for the two of you. As both of your eyes fluttered closed, he reached to rub the head of his cock against your folds, gathering up enough slick to well lubricate himself.

“Whether you take me or not,” you began, your voice laced with a quiet whine as he continued to rub his cock around your entrance, his breaths becoming heavier as his mind became fogged by you. “I am yours, Criston.”

The vow that fell from your lips shattered any promise he’d made before you, slipping into you without another thought with a quiet groan as his lips connected with yours. You returned his kiss the best you could as you gasped, feeling him stretch your walls as he exercised just a bit more patience to claim each inch of you slowly. Stretching your walls inch by inch he soothed you with soft kisses, quietly muttering praises as he worked his way into your impossibly tight cunt.

“All mine,” he finally confirmed as he bottomed out within you, moving to press his lips to your forehead as he stopped his movements to give you any time you needed to adjust. As one of his hands found your hip the other slid up your body until it rested at the side of your neck, holding you close as he finally fulfilled what he most desired.

It took a moment, but finally your body gave into him and relaxed, one of your legs moving to wrap around your waist to encourage him in just slightly deeper. The simple action brought forth a groan from his chest as he ground his waist against yours, desperate for movement between the two of you. His lips lowered to yours again as he slowly dragged his cock out of you to the head before tenderly sliding back into your wet heat. As his tongue dove into your mouth, he swallowed the moan that came from your chest, his hand on your hip grasping tighter and he repeated the motion again.

After several slow, rhythmic thrusts the head of his cock found the extra sensitive, spongy patch deep within you that elicited his name from your lips. Finding the spot several more times caused your walls to tighten around him slightly, his control faltering as he pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath as he stilled for a moment. His voice was low and breathless as he slowly circled his hips again, grinding down into you rhythmically.

“No one will keep you from me,” he promised, his new vow spoken into the night and followed by a groan as he increased his pace into your dripping cunt again. Sliding the hand that rested on your neck up further and into your hair he pulled you into another kiss, a breathy groan covering your lips as your walls tightened around him again. “Fucking…exquisite,” he breathed out, his other hand sliding to raise one of your legs over his shoulder. The deeper angle pulled a deeper, more primal groan from his chest as he seemed to push in impossibly deeper. “Oh, gods, I could bury myself in you every day…”

You found yourself unable to respond to his praise with adequate words, instead thanking his kindness and showing your appreciation of the new angle by moaning his name and nodding in agreement. Tightening his hold on your ankle and burying his face in your neck he began to thrust into you again, releasing a wanton groan into your neck as his lips curved into a small against your skin. A shaking hand belonging to you raised to push his chin up, claiming his lips in a kiss again before your fingers slid back into his hair. The heat of your kiss melted his smile and was returned with immediate passion, as would every kiss you offered him from there forward.

As your thighs began to shake around him again and your walls squeezed him slightly tighter, your breaths becoming more desperate, he knew the end was approaching for you just as it was for him. As he removed his lips from your kiss to lean his forehead against yours once again, he was greeted with the ethereal sight of you glowing for him, your mouth falling open in bliss as he slid a hand to connect a thumb to your clit and rub leisurely circles.

“Criston…I…”

“Yes, my love,” he moaned, picking his pace up again as he nodded, breathing out heavy onto your lips. His thumb began to work faster circles on your swollen clit as he positioned his cock to slide against the sweet patch within you, pressing gentle kisses to your lips as he coaxed another orgasm from you. He knew it was wrong, completely so, and yet he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering toward a future of possibilities, of the possible consequences of his broken vow; of watching you swell with his child. As your walls clenched him impossibly tighter your orgasm washed over you, your combined moans were swallowed by his kiss as he spilled himself within you, unable to hold himself back.

When he’d finished painting your quivering walls he leaned his forehead down against your shoulder, holding himself up so he didn’t crush you but clearly unwilling to pull away from you. His mind wandered to the possibility of soon seeing you swell with what would be his bastard child, and he immediately felt guilty knowing that you deserved far better than the life of a woman with a bastard child. Even still, he couldn’t deny the truth that was that he wanted to see you birth his child – a thought that had him leaning to press repeated kisses against your lips in adoration.

Though he still fought for completely normal breath, his new vow was spoken with purpose and taken as gospel by the one person he could truly ever devote himself to.

“I will find a way for us to truly be together, my love. I swear it.”

masterlist.

#ser criston cole #criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston cole smut #criston cole fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfiction

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quietbatperson · 4 months

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#chuck taylor #pwg #black cole sun #pro wrestling guerrilla #qbp gifs #jumping into 2024 like...#happy new year

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roostersgirlfriendlovesf1 · 1 month

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i'll be home for christmas

bradley bradshaw x reader

prompt: bradley has been on a mission the past couple of weeks and as christmas approaches y/n becomes more lonely. she decorates their apartment as she awaits his return...

warnings: none, just cute ;)

an: hi guys!! this is my first post hope you love it! i will be taking requests for rooster or hangman and if you're intrested in f1 lando norris and charles leclerc! i def need ideas so please comment!

A cold breeze makes its way into the apartment as y/n attempts to hang the last string of lights on the tree. The sound of waves crashing on the shore almost drowned out the sound of Nat King Cole’s A Classic Christmas playlist. Y/n peaked out of the window, the sun was quickly setting. Bradley was set to arrive home any day now. Christmas was a holiday that they had not yet spent together over the past two years; Bradley was either on a mission or stuck having a late night on base. She stepped down from the chair she was balancing on and poured herself a glass of wine. She had been slowly decorating more and more each night, hoping that she would be staying up late enough to greet Bradley when he came home. She never knew what his mood would be when he got home, but always tried to keep a smile. She had put on green, plaid pajama pants and a tighter black long sleeve. She heard the sound of giggles outside the balcony door. Y/n peeked out, seeing a family of three spending their Christmas Eve together. She grabbed a plate of cookies off of the counter, not wanting them to all go to waste as she could not eat them all. She slipped on a pair of uggs and walked downstairs. She waved politely. The family lived a couple apartments down. “Cookies?”

The mom bent down. “Go get a cookie.” She tickled her daughter before the little girl shyly approached y/n. She grabbed a sugar cookie with red, green, and white sprinkles.

“Good choice!” y/n smiled before looking back up at the two adults.

“Brad coming home soon?” The man asked.

“He said he would be home between December 20th and December 26th…” She sighed, “So hopefully in the next couple of days.”

“If you want to come over tomorrow we wouldn’t mind.” The woman smiled.

“It's alright.” y/n shook her head. “I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas!” She bid them goodnight and let herself back into the lonely apartment. She shut the balcony door before taking a step back to appreciate the Christmas scene she had set for herself. A moment of appreciation quickly turned into a moment of loneliness. The room was dark except for the accent of faded-white Christmas lights and candles. She wanted her boyfriend with her. His perfect golden skin, infectious laugh, and comforting smell. She sat down at the piano he had and their first memories together flooded her mind. She had moved in with him a week after she convinced him to buy the piano. He knew he was in love as soon as she pointed out the piano. It had faded wood and the paint on the black keys had just about dissipated.

“This one is perfect.” She ran her fingers along the keys.

His heart dropped as he studied the piano. “This looks like the one my dad would play when we went out for food at this one diner…”

“Then you need it!” She smiled at him. “It's gotta be a sign.” All he could do was stare at it. She placed a hand on his shoulder, kissing his cheek. “I’m gonna go see how much I can negotiate the price.”

He watched her as she debated with the store owner. She waved Bradley over with an angsty look. “He agreed to lower it by 20%, think that's fine?” She crossed her arms.

“Yes.” He was determined to have the piano. “I’m going to be broke after this.”

“Christmas is coming up.” She declared. “So I’m obligated to put some money in for this.”

“No-”

“Yes.” She nodded. As she put their money together Bradley noticed her eyes latch onto a silver necklace with a red heart. He watched as she read the price, sighed, and then continued to count the money owed for the piano.

She was now slumped over it, attempting to find a tune. She set her wine glass on a side table and glared at the keys. They hadn’t been touched in weeks. The sound of laughter and singing hadn’t echoed off the walls in what felt like decades. She wished the piano could comfort her the way Bradley did. Tears filled her eyes, but had not yet fallen as she realized the Christmas songs playing on her speaker had stopped. She put on a new playlist before shuffling into she and Bradley’s bedroom searching for a sweater. She opened the closet door, grabbing a gray sweatshirt. She and Bradley’s separate sides of the closet had now just blended into one wardrobe. She pulled it over her head, prepared for another long night of finding a show to binge. Y/n grabbed a blanket and went to clean the Christmas plate she ate dinner on. Being alone made her envy the times she had to clean double the dishes. The sound of the sink running overpowered the sound of the front door unlatching. She set the plate down in the sink, sighing before blowing out a candle. Thump. A duffel bag landed on the floor and her attention was diverted. The tired eyes of a familiar pilot greeted her as she rushed herself into his arms. Her arms were wrapped around him tightly, one hand running through the hair on the back of his head. His arms caged around her waist as he kissed the side of her face, mustache tickling her. “Merry Christmas, baby.” He whispered in a tired, raspy voice.

“Merry Christmas,” she breathed, pulling away to look at him with glassy eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” He let out a breathy laugh, obviously exhausted. “I couldn’t get you anything really nice, but I picked something up on the way home…” He placed his forehead against hers.

She kissed him. “You didn’t need to get me anything.” He nodded, but retreated to his duffel bag, grabbing a green box from inside it.

He placed it in her hands before bringing them down to hold her waist. “Nothing was really open this late, but-”

“Shhhhh….” She hushed him. She opened the box to find a sticker and a silver necklace.

“The sticker has the exact plane I fly on it, so that you can stick it on your phone case and look at it when you miss me. It was dumb, but it was at the 24/7 gas station.” She stayed silent, taking the necklace out. “Now that…” He cupped his hand around hers, taking the necklace into his own hand. “I’ve had for a while.” He hooked it around her neck. It was a simple necklace, but had a tiny red heart that fell right between her collarbone.

“Bradley…” Her voice caught. “Thank you.” She kissed him again.

“God I’ve missed you.” He embraced her again.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #rooster top gun #rooster x you

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 13 days

Text

A little wicked (Dark! Aemond x reader/rhaenyras daughter) really dark aemond. 18+ MDNI

Aemond x reader x Aegon

Tags: Showsetting, au MAJOR SEASON 2 SPOILERS

🔷Summary: After your husband dies, his brother claims his throne and also you.

🔷Author's note: Dark. I don't throw that label around lightly. you know the drill, dead dove? do not eat.

🔷Wordcount :4939

🔷Warnings: Smut, p in v, mention of loss of virginty, dubcon loss, death, misgony, misogny- aemond hates rhaerhae. Dark aemond, gore, blood.

You await your husband’s arrival, back from the battlefield. Today is the Battle of Rook’s rest. A battle that would go down in the History books of Westeros, Essos, all realms that ever were or will be. Unaware to you, of course. You are miles away from the battlefield, preparing for the return of your beloved husband, King Aegon II Targaryen.

You have prayed, for the first time in years, actually. Your mother didn’t believe much in prayer, more in action. You think her relationship with Alicent Hightower forever caused a deep religious wound. Religion is something that reminds your mother too much of her lost friend. So therefore, it wasn’t important in your upbringing.

Soon, you’ll be crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and finally take your rightful place beside Aegon. You have the foolish hope that you, as Rhaenyra's daughter, maybe can mend the wound. Maybe your mother can be swayed to bend the knee, to give up her claim to the throne. If only it was that simple.

You await news. Any news. At first you are positive that Aegon has made it back unaltered. He has to. He is the king, the fierce warrior you know and while he is nowhere as good as Aemond, he has more experience than those Rook Rest soldiers. It has to be enough. He has to be enough.

However, as minutes turn into hours, and the sun and the moon dance and circle one another in the sky, you become immensely worried about the fate of your loved one. You are thankful for when the doors of the throne room are pushed open and Prince Aemond enters, at long last.

Recently, the young Prince switched from dark black leather to green dark leather, to fully show his support for his family. You remind yourself you are a hostage to these people, stolen. The corners of the prince’s lips lift mere inches, as if smiling. Yet he quickly brushes that away, as if he cannot be seen that way.

Cole follows, his face sorrowful and full of pain. The sort of pain you see on a father’s face when he loses a son. You feel your smile die as the world seems to slow down, to fade, and to darken instantly. Cole steps forward.

Aemond walks to you. Your feet rush, but your legs are frozen, causing you to stumble and to almost fall flat on your face. Aemond pretends to walk to you, but instead walks past you, to the big Iron throne that looms over you as a dark curse.

You watch in silence as he sits down, confirming your worst fears. You hear yourself gulp, as tears stream down your face. Your Aegon is no longer alive. King Aemond now sits the throne, and he sits it as if it took him too long to begin with. He smiles down at you, mocking and almost patronizing. Cole speaks, as first. ‘’All hail his grace, King Aemond of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the Andels, and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms, and protector of the realm!’’ The words hit you like blows.

Aemond lifts his chin as all soldiers around you and all knights, servants, everyone with working legs falls down to their knees, respecting and vowing loyalty to their new monarch. Everyone but you, that is. Aemond waits quite a while before he tells everyone to raise again. Likely enjoying everyone on their knees for him, and him alone. As a cat toying with a mouse.

After that the servants are rounded up, to be informed of the King’s fate. ‘’My dear people. It is with great sadness and immense pride, that I announce the death of my brother, King Aegon II. He shall be known to history as King Aegon the Brave, for he slew the traitor Princess Rhaenys. Had it not been for her treasonous acts on battlefield, our king would be alive today.’’ He waits a moment as gasps and relieved words cross the hall. ‘’It is with great pride that I shall now serve you as King, until my younger nephew, Prince Maelor comes of age. You may all now either bend the knee, or remain standing.’’ He gestures to the guards, and on his sign, they all draw their swords. A clear choice.

You watch as the one after the other servant drops to their knees, swearing loyalty to the newly crowned King. After that is done they are all dismissed. ‘’Y/n. Please stay here.’’ The use of just your name makes your hair stand up. It is intimate, almost familiar.

You freeze.

Aemond finally rises from the throne, a smile on his lips. You wait and remain where you are. He does not beckon you closer, so you remain there. He walks closer to you until he is in front of you. He looks at your gown, taking in the details of the bodice. ‘’My condolences on the loss of your husband.’’ He whispers, gently.

You blink back tears. ‘’Can I go home now? We must write to my mother that the war is over. She can come collect her throne.’’ You look over to the ugly iron thing. Aemond chuckles, adoring your naivety and your good righteous heart.

He even reaches out to touch your face, gently caressing it and wiping away a few tears with his thumb. He brings his thumb to his mouth, sucking on it, tasting your tears. You watch, speechless. He grins. ‘’My gentle hearted sweet girl.’’ It sounds like a compliment and also an insult. ‘’I have no intention to stop the war. Your mother will sit on that throne when your brother Lucerys finds his head again. You will leave her in a coffin or when I am dead.’’ You scoff, insulted and step away, ready to leave.

He grabs you firmly by your arms, dragging you closer. You are pinned against his front, where you can still see blood on his shirt. His smirk only grows as you lower your head, avoiding his eye. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him as you silently cry. ‘’I haven’t lost, you see. I have the crown, the throne, and you.’’ He does the unspeakable and leans in for a kiss, leaving a soft peck on your lips. He moans softly against your lips. ‘’My darling, my sweet precious thing.’’ He murmurs.

You give him a weak push against his chest, barely moving him. But it gets the message across. Aegon is not even cold yet. “I’m your brother’s widow!’’ You yell in righteous fury.

He laughs at that, capturing you easily with your hands again, and you hate yourself that you like how warm and fast his hands act. ‘’That means nothing in our family. You are my captive, Lady Strong. Remember? From the moment I first captured you at Storm’s end, until your very last. You are meant to be mine, so you will be.’’ He promises you. He is calm and collected about it as if is stating a fact.

He reminds you of the day when this all started. You don’t want to think back of that day. You tell yourself it is because of Luc, who Aemond fed to his dragon. But it is because of Aegon. You miss Luc, of course, but that wound had time to heal. Aegon’s loss is so sudden and just as painful, but fresh. ‘’I am not yours, you monster!’’ You raise your hand, striking Aemond on his scarred cheek.

He finally acts, grabbing your hands tighter and dragging you close until your noses touch. He is trembling with fury and his one eye is full of hatred, lust, obsession and cold blooded plans. ‘’Striking your king, is a act of treason.’’ He chuckles. ‘’I am allowed to punish you. I could take your hand for this, little lady strong.’’ You huff.

You roll your eyes even. Aemond hates the silent treatment more than any insult you could have hurled at him. Instead of making it clear what he intends, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder, marching you back to the empty throne. You kick and slap his back, trying to break free of his iron grip. He places you in the hands of a nearby guard, who all have been silent on this treatment of their rightful princess. Aemond sits on the iron throne and what he does next shocks you.

He grabs you by your hips, bending you over both his knees, as if you don’t weigh anything. He pets your hair lovingly and even gives your shaking body a kiss. ‘’I do this because I love you. You are in luck. You will always be able to defy me.’’ He whispers. ‘’All men who do so will meet horrible ends that Maesters will write about for centuries, but you, my special girl, you will be able to defy, rebel and upset me.’’ He whispers. ‘’Because I enjoy punishing you. And I bet you enjoy being punished.’’ You feel his hands on your butt, as he starts finding the beginning of your gown. You hear the sound of fabric ripping, and panic, bolting on his lap. He simply holds you down tighter, smirking as you begin to whimper. He calmly hums and with one brutal movement, rips your skirts. You remain on his lap, vulnerable and in your small clothes. Aemond sits up straighter, as if he wants to fully take in this view. Embarrassed, you lower your head in his lap, allowing him to caress your hair once more. ‘’Such a beautiful girl. You were wasted on my brother.’’ He speaks. ‘’You belong with me. You always have.’’ He then turns to his guards. ‘’Leave me and the Princess. She will pledge her loyalty to me in a private event.’’ You whimper as you hear iron footsteps leave the room.

When he is alone with you, he pulls your small clothes down fully, yanking them until your ankles, exposing you for all you are. It seems to awaken a certain hunger or desire in him, and he rips your corset and sleeves next. He fully admires your naked body, panting as he looks at you. He seems to calm down and finally he does what he promised. He hits you on your ass, spanking it harshly. You hiss in pain, in disbelief that he is subjecting you to this. ‘’Aemond, stop this.’’ You beg.

‘’You have no right.’’

He scoffs. ‘’I have every right. I am the King now. You were naughty, today. I don’t like naughty girls. Well, not as much as I like a good girl.’’ He says, talking to you as if you are a stupid little girl. Fresh tears fall. ‘’I like naughty good girls, who know what they want. But you aren’t there yet. You aren’t broken enough yet.’’ He says, joyfully as he spanks you. You give soft whimpers.

The spankings only become harsh when you remain silent, so you fake moans and whimpers to please Aemond’s dark desires. He sometimes groans too, as he sees how much damage your body is taking thanks to him, and how you take it.

“Aegon told me something before he died. He told me he never consummated the marriage. Is that true?” You wonder why Aegon told him that.

But it is the truth. You nod. “He knew when we first were forced to lay together I didn't want it.”

Aemond only chuckles to that comment, dealing another hurtful smack, almost as if to punish you for still loving his brother. “He raped plenty of women. I suppose you weren't special enough to make the effort.”

“Aegon loved me.” You argue, and you regret it the moment you’ve said it. Because Aemond slaps so hard that your flesh burns.

He groans now not of arousal but of pure hatred. “He didn't.”

“There's one man for you in this entire world.” You huff at his words.

You are grabbed by the throat, lifted from his lap and forced to stand as he chokes you. You are choked, tears stinging your eyes as he looks at you with the crown slightly slipping from his hairs and his one eye bigger than usual, focused on you, the object of his obsession. You fight for control but lose the fight. “It is me.” He reveals.

“No,’ You croak out weakly. “I can't. You killed my brother-”

He sighs, almost enjoying the view. His cold fingers finger one of your nipples, enjoying the reaction your body gives by hardening for him. He chuckles. “Such a beauty. Now. Defy me again.” You shake your head. He sighs, putting you over his knee again. You whimper against the cruel treatment, feeling the spot he struck. Aemond smirks, challenging you to speak out again. “I ought to keep you around like this. Just as the gods intended you to be. Pure, naked, unspoiled…” He feels the skin he struck. And you feel yourself clench your cunt, ignoring the waterfall he caused down there with all cost. It is true, Aemond is a handsome man. But this is wrong, isn’t it?

“May I please dress?” You ask, wiggling on his lap, enjoying when his thigh briefly rubs your cunt. That hits the spot.

The King laughs. “Such an obedient girl for asking me first.”

“The answer is no, however. You struck me, remember? That is treason.” You are embarrassed to speak. He laughs at that, rubbing your legs, drawing circles and kissing your skin. You ignore the butterflies. You can’t.

‘’Stand.’’ He barks suddenly. You obey, standing on your shaking legs, exposing yourself now fully to him. He leans back in the throne, grinning brightly as he takes in your body, toe to head. ‘’You can defy me as many times as you like. I will gladly put you on my lap and spank you.’’ He whispers. ‘’But if you say something regarding the whore that mothered you, I’m afraid we must do a different type of punishment. Am I clear?’’ You nod, hating how frightened you are.

He softens his face. He beckons you closer. You come closer until you stand in front of throne, your cunt barely touching the iron. ‘’I wish to feel your wares. I must see myself, If you and Aegon kept your word.’’ Without a warning, his fingers sink inside your wetness, inspecting you as you stand on your legs, almost falling over.

‘’Please, make me sit.’’ You beg.

He grins, forcing his finger to go deeper, penetrating you at the right speed. “No, you'll stand, tall and proud. I bet this is just what a dirty bastard like yourself likes. ‘’ It takes a while but sadly, he discovers what is happening. ‘’Oh, just as I suspected. A wet, warm and wonderful little place for my seed to crawl inside of.” You wail at those words, aroused as he fucks slowly, taunting you with his fingers.

“Stop talking as if we are going to -” Your talking is interrupted by a smack on your cunt by his free haunt, causing you to cry out in pain and anticipation.

He glares at you, shaking you as if you aren’t awake yet.

“As if? You think I'd kept you as a pretty cup bearer or something? I plan to make good use of you. Every hole is stuffed, until you can't even crawl forward.” He promises.

“What if I will have a child?” you whisper. ‘’That would complicate your status.’’

He sees that differently, mad with lust and obsession.

“That is part of the fantasy. Breeding you makes me happy. Seeing your belly swell makes me happy. You know why?” He asks, softly patting your belly. You shake your head.

“No.”

He leans in, gesturing vaguely down to his legs.

“It proves my seed is strong, powerful and well. It proves I have the power to make you, a stunning powerful princess to a good for nothing whore, carrying a bastard inside of her womb.” You sniffle, hurt and insulted. “Judging your wet and warm cunt, you have been thinking about me too. Why don't you admit that you want this?”

“Because I loved him. I loved Aegon. That means something to me.”

Aemond growls. “Shame he didn't love you. You know it deep down. He didn't mention you at all when he died-” You push him off you, taking off to the doors, not caring he ripped your gown or your poking breasts begging for touch.

“Where do you think you'll be going?” He demands, his voice booming.

You raise your head as much as a princess and dignity as you can. “To my quarters until you decide to trade me for peace.”

“Peace?” He laughs. Then that laugh dies. “Peace!’ It scares you how quickly it became an almost command. “You have exactly 3 seconds to get over here and to kneel at my feet and to beg me for forgiveness-” You don’t let him finish and take off running. But he is faster.

He simply drags you back by your hair, giving your behind hurtful smacks as he drags you to the throne. ‘’Ungrateful bastard. I can make you my queen.’’ He growls. ‘’Why won’t you accept that you want this? Look how wet you are for me.’’ He thinks as you remain at his feet, sitting there as a dog. ‘’I know something. We must train you, to ensure you are a proper pet.’’ He grins. One of the servants is allowed in, to bring Aemond a piece of rope.

You are worried he is going to tie your hands. But his plans are far worse. He ties the end around your neck, and holds it, as a leash. “Such a stubborn girl.” He chuckles. ‘’Now if you try to run, you’ll feel it.’’

“Please untie my neck.” You whisper, softly.

“Why? You can't behave, clearly. I must make the rules clear somehow.”

He has gone insane.

“Untie my neck, I'm worried I'll choke.”

“You know, when the right person is doing it, choking, taking control of another person's breath, nay, life, can feel…amazing.”

In response you spit at him.

“Spitting at me, you are a vile dirty minded thing, are you not? I bet you just ache for someone to pin you down against the floor and to have his wicked way with you. Don't you, bastard?” He growls, handling you.

“I want Aegon…” You whisper, half a beg and half a prayer.

He almost slams your head against the throne in pure rage. You can tell he is close to losing it. “Why? Why do you want that disgusting raper. You have me. You have all you will ever need.” He says. Then he sniffs your breasts, his long nose and hair disappearing between your breasts. “Fuck, you smell so good. So inviting. I can smell that needy cunny of yours.”

He stands up, keeping the leash in his dominate hand. ‘’I bet if I took my cock out you’d be fucking it before I could even ask you to.’’ He grins. ‘’You are your mother’s daughter after all.’’ To prove his point he lowers his trousers, revealing his manhood to you.

You are caught off guard. You never saw one before and it looks so strange yet familiar. “Look down.” He pushes your head down so you can properly.

It is red and swollen and evil in all ways. You try to glance at Aemond but your eyes are almost glued to his manhood. He snickers amused at your virginal response. “You'd like to feel this down your legs, little bastard?” He asks, and you are shocked when his fingers find your entrance once more, and now your soaked little cunt can’t even handle this. You moan, crying of shame and desire.

Aemond grins, taking it as a sign of encouragement.

“Get on your knees.” you obey, eying his cock. You wonder if it’ll hurt. But part of you wants to just feel good and happy for a moment. “On all fours.” He adds, groaning in frustration.

“What is expected of me?” You whisper soft as you kneel for him in the throne room. Aemond finally leaves his throne, so he may join you.

Silence. “I can't…I'm a princess. My virtue is everything to me-”

He laughs. “I can't wait to fuck you, so you for once and for all will shut up about your prestige and your privileges. You will learn, my sweet that I decide what your worth is now. Now, I am going to ask.”

You shake as his fingers brutally Bury themselves in your untouched tight cunt. “Do you want me to be the bad man today, little Maella? Do you wish to get your cunny raided by me, here, in the throne room, on your knees, as a little dirty harlot?’ You fall to your knees, crying out as the penetrating reaches a hight, as does your pleasure. You touched yourself but never like this. Not like he does. And his dirty naughty talk..

“Do you want to feel my cock take root and to feel me penetrate away at your innocent soft rings as they wrap and tighten around my cock as I take you on the stones, your knees bloody and your vision blurry as I bring you close?’

“Do you want that?”

You begin to doubt and he knows it. So he softens his voice, for show. “It can feel so good, Maella. You know I've won. You know it. You are already naked. You are already kneeling. All I need to do is put my cock……” He parts your legs. He rubs your needy cunt causing friction as you frustrated cry out. “here…’’

You nod pleasure winning. ‘Yes.’’ You say, consenting at last. He does not need long. He drags his finger nails in your hips, bringing you closer to his front. He sits on both his knees, as he slams inside of you, fucking you with a brutal war cry. You gasp as the cock pierces through your maidenhood, ruining you for any other man. Aemond groans in delight at your gasps, fucking you harder for every bit of sound you make.

“Oh, you're deep…” you mutter, a bit foolish.

He chuckles. “You'll handle me just fine. Any woman is a bit as a frightened stag, wishing to bolt off when a man climbs her. It is his task to smooth her back into submission so the ride may be…pleasant.” You wonder if he enjoys it the way you do. But when you hear his grunts and moans you know he does.

“Just as much of a slut as your mother.” He whispers and quickly gives you a kiss to avoid your anger. “Taking it all so well. You're a natural love.”

The fucking reaches a height your innocent body cannot handle, as Aemond comes closer to, and the fucking becomes violent, with him choking you as well now. “Meant and made to be on your knees, cock deep inside of your cunt and getting fucked until you can't crawl out of your bed tomorrow.” You gasp, your cries and soft moans filling the throne room, high on pleasure. “Agree.” He hisses, suddenly. For someone who claims not the care about others, he sure seeks a lot of approval.

You know you must obey. You know it deep down. So you swallow your pride. “Y-yes Aemond.” You say, obediently.

He spits at that idea. “You will call me King Aemond or your Grace.’’ He smacks your ass, sinking a finger deep there too. You buck your hips to him, eager for more.

You need to feel good, more than anything, you need to feel alive. ‘’Aemond, your grace, please..”

That pleases him greatly. “So fast, little girl? This is just the tip of the mountain, dear. There is so much more for you left.” He promises, planting dark desires in your head.

“There is?”

He nods. “Hmm,” He smacks your butt in a playful manner. “This is fun, but this is not the way a baby is made. I must stuff you properly for that. And there's your face…” You turn to face him, cock slightly sliding out of you in the process.

“What of it?” You ask, worried there is something stuck between your teeth.

You aren’t prepared for the answer. “It looks so clean. A nice, white and shimmering substance would look amazing on it. Something like my cum?”

“O, I don't know…” you stutter, foolishly.

You do know. But you won’t tell him that. “That is the beauty of your new life. You no longer need to know. I do. I'd love to see your cunt, breasts, belly, cheeks, chin, butt and hole covered in my cum.” He confesses. It is taking so long.

So you buck your hips to his front, hoping he mounts you soon once more. Aemond merely watches, grinning. “Taking me now, aren't we?”

“I do what you want. Just…give me…” You are at the breaking point. You are close.

Aemond slams inside of you, fucking you up and down the tiles as you scream it out in pleasure and he hisses, likely near too. “This?”

You roar in approval as pleasure explodes and you cry out in a soft voice. Aemond can be heard chuckling. “That's it, beauty. You keep being good, and I'll give you that and more.”

“Please, my King…” you whimper. “I can't…I can't handle it anymore. I need to ..I need it now.”

The King laughs, enjoying your suffering and your pleasure.

“Such a demanding little brat, demanding to come before your king.” The Spanking you get now is not punishment. It brings you pleasure and therefor shame. You nearly whimpered at it, but at the same time you enjoyed the smack on your naked ass.

And he bows your head down, and gives you the one after the other hard rough trust that only raises your pleasure. As the fucking increases, your needs reach a height unfamiliar to you and you stop, waiting for it to fade as you usual do when you touch yourself. Aemond sees this as the moment to strike, fully claiming you with a rough war cry and a trust. You fall down from your pleasure and come, all over his red swollen cock as he rides his own orgasm out on your spent body. The King is not happy yet, and fucks your body two more times after you are done with it.

When he is done, he finally removes the rope. You sit up, watching the tiles you fucked upon, sweaty and stained with your blood. Aemond cheekily grins, dressing himself again quickly. You look around for anything to cover yourself with. He throws his leather bloodied coat your way. ‘’Here. Cover. I don’t wish you to catch a cold.’’ He says. You think back of Aegon. And guilt washes over you.

The door is opened and a soldier rushes inside the room. You attempt to cover yourself but it is too late. ‘’My king.’’ He begins but Aemond does not allow him to finish.

‘’You saw my lady naked.’’ He says, instead of listening to his trusted soldier. The soldier blinks.

‘’I,I didn’t!”’ He quickly blurts out. Aemond does not even bother to explain his motivates, you can only watch as he takes his sword and chops of the head of the soldier. Blood and flesh come free as treat and paint painting the Throne room. You are horrified that Aemond murdered a man for looking at you.

You scream in horror. Aemond walks to you next, sword still dripping with blood. He levels the sword at his lips and takes a lick, before kissing your forehead. ‘’He had to die. Only one eye may look at your body. Mine.’’ He says, kissing you again as if it calms you down. It only makes you panic.

He sighs, taking you back to the throne. He makes you sit but this time there’s no spanking. Only sweet kisses and heartbroken mutters. ‘’What can I ever do to compare to Aegon? I want your love, my love. I want you to weep over my dead corpse.’’ He whispers. ‘’I want you when we marry, to become so madly in love with me, that when they find my corpse on the battlefield, you become mad and consumed with grief and you carve off one of my fingers to keep it close to you and you never think of a marrying another. I want you to die from a broken heart.’’ He whispers. ‘’I offer you the world, my love. It is ours. From Westeros to Essos and from the Dothraki grass sea to the useless kingdom of Dorne. It will fall at our feet, crumbled into dust. Thousands will die at our command, and their bones will become your crown and throne. Their blood will be your gown and their flesh will feed our love. Whoever offends you, shall die first. Let me be your King, and you will never need anyone else again.’’ You know you don’t have a choice. Once you cared about innocents. But you don’t have the luxury to care about them anymore. You must survive.

You play along for now.

Be Aemond’s Queen.

His second in command, the mother of his children, his lover and his bedmate.

To him you will be bow…

At least for now.

One of the days soon coming…

You’re going to take that boy’s crown.

//Not even therapy can fix this im afraid.

109 notes · View notes

atinystraynstay · 4 months

Text

Steal The Show - Jung Hoseok

Synopsis: He was amazed by her. He knew how hard she'd worked for this moment, so being able to see her do her thing made him feel complete. She outshined the sun.

There was just one thing left he had to do.

Pairing: idol! Jung Hoseok x idol! fem reader

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.8k

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"J-hope! J-hope! J-hope!" The sound of cheers made Hoseok's heart shake with excitement. If there's any place he loved the most, it was being on stage.

Hoseok was wearing a pair of baggy jeans, an olive green tee-shirt, a black hoodie, and a black and white bomber jacket. Tonight, he was performing on the street (with J. Cole) for the first time. He was excited to showcase this stage for not just for Army, but for everyone. Especially for you.

You initially met Hoseok when you both were at an all-intensive dance class in New York City. He was shooting a music video, and you were attending university for dance. He was impressed with your dancing abilities, stepping back to watch just you when it wasn't his turn to dance. You moved as if you were made out of water, very fluid yet so in control of your body. He was amazed.

At the end of the lesson, Hoseok asked if you wanted to grab lunch. To be honest, you didn't really hear of BTS before meeting Hoseok. You figured he was your average guy from Queens who loved to dance. However, watching the dance practice videos he showed you at the cafe next door, you were amazed.

You didn't think the K-pop industry was for you though. You originally were trying to make it on Broadway, that's why you decided to attend school in the city. You wanted to network and make connections, wanted to go to auditions when you had free time. The politics involved in the Western music industry turned you off completely.

When JYP announced they were doing auditions across America, you decided to take the jump. It also helped that Hoseok pushed you to just try out.

"I'm not saying I want you to become an idol. I'm not saying I want you to move here to Korea. Even though I'd love living in the same part of the world as you," he said over FaceTime, laughing. "But it doesn't hurt to audition! Worse case, the audition is good experience for the next one you do."

He was right there. You just needed to put yourself out there. You've only done a few casting calls for ensembles, but you wanted a challenge. You wanted to attempt to go for a lead. And to an extent, auditioning for a music company was a challenge. It was out of your wheelhouse, but Hoseok reassured you that the k-pop industry drew people from all over the world from all sorts of backgrounds.

And somehow, you made it past the first audition. You sang "Fast Car" to showcase your singing abilities, even though you come from a dancing background. You were then asked to freestyle a dance, which honestly was the easiest part of the audition. It probably was easy considering you and Hoseok often freestyled with each other over FaceTime when you were in your own respective dance studios.

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

"Hoseok?"

He looked over his shoulder, a smile immediately on his face. He knew that voice anywhere.

"Y/n." You were wearing a light blue dress. There was a cutout in the shape of a heart surrounded by silver rhinestones. hugged around your thighs, showing off the white fishnet stocks. You wore a matching pair of white block-heeled boots that stopped short of reaching your knee. Your hair was down in curls, framing your face. You looked divine.

Before he knew it, you walked right up to him and hugged him tightly. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. He got a smell of your perfume, something that he's grown very fondly over. It smelled like cherries and vanilla. A scent he favored resonated with you.

"I've been looking for you all over," you giggled. His heart swelled at the thought of you searching for him.

"Well know you've found me," he winked. "You ready to go kill it out there?" "And know that you're watching me? Of course."

Hoseok wasn't sure what the line-up was. He only knew that he was geared towards the end of the showcase. He always loved watching what other artists and groups came up with, sometimes making their usual performances extra special. Hoseok also liked being the one to watch smaller acts, giving them a source of encouragement as they were just at the start of their careers.

He also strategically placed himself here, right at the side of the stage, so he could watch you. Not only did he want to watch you perform, but he wanted to be the first and last person you saw before and after being on stage. He wanted to cement himself as your biggest supporter, in more ways than one. "Y/n, five minutes. Let's get you into position," one of the backstage crew announced.

That's how it always goes when it comes to performances like this. It was hectic all over. People were running around, making sure the appropriate stages were in place and artists were ready to go. It was one after the other, no real break until the last performance.

You looked up at him, a slight frown tugging onto your lips. You were hoping to have more time to catch up with Hoseok before taking to the stage.

"Promise to be here when I get back?" "Angel, I'm not going anywhere."

This time, he kissed you on your cheek before moving his lips to your ear. He could feel the eyes on him, not wanting to tell him to hurry up but also getting a bit antsy. Hoseok was a gentleman, so he could be quick.

"I'm always going to be here. Go rock that stage so you can return back to me."

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

I feel so much lighter like a feather with you out my life With you out my life

The crowd screamed as you were twirled around the stage. If anyone was born to be on stage, it was you. You were smiling wide during the instrumental part of your song, your backup singers the harmonies.

You were done by the stage extender, interacting with your fans. Truth be told, you were surprised people were that responsive to you. You felt like you were at the start of your career, still trying to build a name for yourself. Of course, you took nothing for granted.

Hoseok wasn't surprised. He has seen your rise to fame happen both in person and online. People were captivated by you, but he wanted to make sure you knew he was front of the line.

Right now, you were performing a song you had written to your ex-boyfriend. Hoseok remembered that night so vividly. He had never seen anyone write a song that quickly besides Yoongi. You used all your anger to channel into this particular song. Your ex doubted that you could make it, he didn't see your potential.

But Hoseok did. He knew you were a shining star. You just needed the right support system to boost your confidence and help you pursue you dreams.

And you were blessed to have someone like Hoseok in your life. Not even someone, a man like Hoseok. He made it easy for you to forget your ex boyfriend. He was the one who reassured you, uplifted you, and showed you love. You weren't sure if there was a chance of you two getting together, but you were a wishful thinker.

it feels so good not carin' where you are tonight And it feels so good not pretending to like the wine you like

Your hips were swaying as you strutted back up to the main part of the stage. The crowd went wild for you as you ran your hands through your hair, letting it fall back down to your back.

Once you were center stage, you glanced over your shoulder. You grinned to see Hoseok still to the side of the stage, watching you. You winked at him before looking towards the crowd again.

I slam the door

You kicked up your foot as you were closing the door. You wore a smirk. Here goes nothing. I hit ignore

With your back towards Hoseok, you bent over slightly. The amount of times you ignored texts and calls from your ex were too high too count. You knew one thing for sure though. You would always pickup for Hoseok.

Hoseok's eyes widened as he watched you. That's new. Was that intended for him? Were you responding to what he said to you before you were whisked away to get on stage? He bit his lip gently, a smirk on his lips. He was proud of how far you've come, both in your personal life and professional career. But he couldn't help but feel his ego swore as he thought you were showing off for him.

Well played, y/n.

I'm saying, no, no, no, no more I got you blocked Excited to never talk

You were standing up straight again. You popped your hip slightly. The hand not holding your bedazzled microphone also resting on your hip. You wore a smirk.

I'm so sorry for your loss.

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

The stage lights went dark as you bowed to the crowd. There was a loud roar of cheers, fans begging you to stay. You blew a kiss though before you were escorted off stage. Your mind was in the clouds, overjoyed by the outcome of your performance. That couldn't have gone any better!

There was just one thing left to do to truly make this a night to remember. Someone handed you a water bottle as your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart racing from the performance and adrenaline rush you were experiencing. You grabbed the water, but kept your eyes locked forward.

From the moment you left the stage, your eyes were locked on Hoseok. You didn't have to go searching for him. He stayed as he promised. He wore a wide smirk as he waited for you, members backstage of the production and your manager checking in with you. "Y/n, we can either stay to watch the rest of the show or head back to the hotel." "I'm staying."

Once you finally were away from the staircase leading to the stage, the crowd around you began to disperse slightly. You passed the water bottle in your hand to your manage before you took off running towards Hoseok.

You weren't thinking straight. All you knew was that you needed to get to him. It was as if something had possessed you because before you knew it, you were jumping into his arms. He caught you easily, the two of you in a fit of laughter. "That was amazing, y/n! You are amazing," he said, grinning. You grinned back at him. Your hands rested on his shoulder as he twirled you around a bit. Everyone around you figured you had a close friendship. A very close one, indeed. But after the exchanges between the two of you, that was going to take a step up. You were sure of it, but just not in the eyes of public.

"Come on, I think we got some talking to do, sweetheart. I got a little bit before going on stage."

Hoseok gently set you back down to your two feet, but had a hand securely on your lower back. People eyed the two of you as you passed by. Artists that you admired, friends, and others congratulated you on a successful stage. All you could do was smile and bow politely, both out of breath but also trying not to stop too long for a conversation. You weren't trying to be rude. You just had other priorities.

His thumb caressed your lower back. You didn't have to question where you were going. You always put all your trust into Hoseok. He has prove time and time again his loyalty and his sincerity towards you. He was a rare find in a world that tended to be more cruel than kind.

After a few moments, mainly with you focusing on the feeling of his touch, you found yourself out of his dressing room. He pushed it open, motioning for you walk through the threshold first.

"Always the gentleman, aren't you, Hobi?"

He chuckled and shrugged, watching as you walked in first. Once he made sure you were safely in the room, he closed the door behind him. He locked in, not wanting to get interrupted again like before.

This time, he let his heart take over rather than his mind. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You giggled in surprised, letting out a soft gasp as he lifted you up with ease. Wow, he's gotten stronger since the last time you saw him.

Carefully, he had you sit on the counter of the makeup vanity set up. His makeup team from the company already had done the makeup they needed to do earlier. They opt for a more natural look, seeing as this song was personal for Hoseok. And much to your happiness, you got his bare face all to yourself.

Your legs were slightly parted, allowing Hoseok to slip in between them. Biting your lip gently, you gazed up into his eyes. You were trying to cipher what could be going on in his mind. You were getting all the right signals from him to confirm your assumptions, but you wanted to make sure you weren't jumping to conclusions. One of your hands gripped the edge of the counter, the other hand resting on his forearm.

"Y/n, I think I'm done playing games," he murmured. One of his hands rested by yours. Not exactly touching, but your want to feel his skin on yours burned within you. His other hand lifted up to brush the hair out of your face. He tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear. His hand then gently rested on your cheek.

The confidence you had on stage melted away. You could feel your body warm up, seeing how close you were and how alone you truly now. The chaos outside was white noise. All your attention was on Hoseok without any interruptions. He smirked seeing the shy side of yourself starting to appear once again.

He loved witnessing all the sides of you. While yes, you two were prominent in each other's lives, he wanted to learn more about you.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," you said softly.

He scoffed. "Really? You don't remember that little stunt you pulled on stage? Come on, darling, you trying to tell me something?" "But what about you, Hoseok? What was that you told me earlier?"

He hummed, nodding his head. "That's the games I'm talking about. Why don't we cut to the chase, huh? Stop torturing ourselves?"

This time, you nodded in agreement. You were onboard to full send, to take this friendship into uncharted territory for the two of you. Yes, it was scary to take this friendship into a level that most friends don't go. However, if Hoseok was willing, so were you.

Wanting to take back a bit of control of the situation, you slightly tilted your head. Your lips hovered right underneath his. His breathing seemed to hitch, which caused you to smirk.

Look who is now turning soft.

Truthfully, you made him weak and he thrived off being your weakness. It was as if subconsciously you two always knew you had feelings for each other. Yet, for the sake of the friendship, you oppressed any feelings you had. You were at the point now that you were boiling over and it was all seeping out. Everyone else saw how you two stared at each other with hearts in your eyes. You both were just catching up to speed.

"How do you propose we stop torturing ourselves, huh? Tell me, Hobi. What's been on your mind?" "You're the only thing ever on my mind, y/n," he murmured.

The way his voice dropped an octave made you want to whimper. You felt small with him towering over you. He knew the little things to do to make you weak in the knees.

"I'd just like it if you no longer live in my fantasies and were actually mine. That way I can make every thought I have into a legitimate plan with you." "Then make it happen."

Hoseok's eyebrow raised yet he was intrigued. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you slightly closer to him until you sat right at the edge of the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close to your as well.

He began lean in, his lips grazing yours. You both sighed in contact. So close yet not quite there.

Before his lips could fully press against yours, there was a knock at the door. "J-hope, 5 minutes!" Dammit! He smirked as he pulled away while your frowned, disappointed to not get to kiss him quite yet. You raised an eyebrow, surprised to see him not more disappointed. "All good things come with time. Just had to get one more game in before winning you over. I'll see you after my set."

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Note: I originally got inspired from listening to Steal the Show by Lauv. since seeing Elemental a few months ago. I also have been obsessed with Sophia Carpenter's performances of Feather while she's been the opening act for Taylor Swift's Eras Tour in South America so my mind got a little creative haha

Hope you enjoyed it!!

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333-luvsturns · 20 days

Text

the hating game — two

other chapters: 1

summary: matt and y/n have hated each other since they were kids. now, it’s their senior year and they can’t help but feel a specific tension between them — will they swallow their pride and come to terms with the new-found tension, or forever hold their peace?

warnings: underage drinking/partying, smoking, making out/suggestive, (brief +joking)mentions of throwing up arguing/banter.

pairing: matt sturniolo x reader, enemies to lovers.

a/n grab your popcorn. we’re getting right into the drama!

matt’s pov

The sound of blaring music is all I hear, the house is crowded with people; sweaty, drunk teenagers. There’s a haze of smoke in the air that is especially visible through the colorful party-lights set up in the living room.

Fortunately, the kitchen is slightly more breathable, which is why I’m here — leaning against the counter which is littered with half-empty liquor bottles and red plastic cups.

While taking a sip of my soda, I notice another body slightly stumble through the doorway of the kitchen.

“Matthew.”

I look up, and see just who I am never thrilled to see, “Y/n.” For a brief moment, I glance up and down — what the hell is she wearing? “One too many drinks, no?” She’s got a black dress on, only it’s short — very short.

I can tell she’s a few drinks in, I also know she’s a lightweight; after being aquaitances for years, I’ve seen her drink for the first time, or drink too much for that matter. I guess she could say the same about me, unfortunately.

She walks over to me, slightly brushing past me as she reaches across the counter. “Another shot, actually.” She states, rummaging through the various drinks.

Now, she’s almost entirely leaning over the counter to reach for a (somewhat full) bottle of Vodka — the people around us in the kitchen blocking her from moving any closer.

Clearly, given I am taller and have longer arms I could get the bottle for her with ease. But watching her get annoyed over this is quite amusing for me.

She sighs before giving up and turning to look up at me, “Yes?” I ask, looking down to her slightly. Y/n just rolls her eyes at me.

I glance over at the counter next to us, “Oh — You want the Vodka?” I ask, sounding clueless.

I can really tell she’s annoyed with me from the huff she lets out. I reach over the counter (much easier than she does) and grab the bottle, before handing it to her.

“Wow, no ‘thank you’?” I ask, watching her pour a shot glass.

She turns to face me again, “Why, thank you dear Matthew!” Y/n beams, placing a hand to her heart like I said something especially touching.

With that, she takes the shot, wincing a bit at the bitterness before putting the glass back on the counter. “You want one?” She asks.

“I drove you here, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“Y/n-!” A voice shouts from the other aide of the kitchen, near the doorway. I look through the small crowd in the kitchen to see Amaya.

Y/n notices her too, “Gotta go dance now!” She days excitedly, bee-lining over to Amaya.

I shake my head and try not laugh at the way the two of them dance in the middle of Josh’s living room — which, I think they are the only two actually dancing, everyone else is kind of just crowded together and swaying to the music if anything. But Y/n, she looks like she’s having the time of her life; one hand holding Amaya’s, while her other is swinging around to follow the sway of her body.

After a few minutes, I make my way through the living room, pushing through the crowd to get to the sliding glass back door. While walking through the living room, something — or someone for that matter, catches my eyes

I notice Amaya and Y/n have stopped dancing, and that’s due to a guy shaking Y/n’s hand.

Who the hell is that?

I stop for a moment, focusing on the situation, watching as Y/n smiles and talks to the guy in front of her. When he laughs at something she says, I can tell exactly who it is.

Adrien Cole.

Adrien Cole, talking to Y/n. What does she want to do with him? The guy’s an asshole, and it’s well known. But once again, I’m sure Y/n’s mentality of ‘seeing the best in people’ has gotten in the way.

I watch as he steps closer to her, leaning down to say something in her ear, which she smiles at. As he continues to talk to her, Y/n glances through the crowd.

And her eyes land on me.

I’m standing near a wall, watching her interaction with Adrien Cole — I mean really, doesn’t she know the stories about this guy?

She looks at me for a brief moment, her eyes narrowing a bit at me before she turns back to Adrien.

Shaking my head, I walk away from this, and head to the back door of the house. Maneuvering through the people, finally reaching the sliding glass door, the porch is empty with only a few people sitting around in the yard.

I breathe through my nose and sigh, leaning against the railing of the porch, not before digging through my pocket for my pack of Marlboro Red’s and my lighter.

I put the cigarette to my lips and light it — it’s a bad habit and I’m well aware, I only do it when I’m stressed or need to calm myself, which is a bad excuse.

I breathe in through the cigarette, letting the smoke fill my mouth, while a million thoughts fill my head.

What the fuck is she doing with him?

And, am I crazy, or did Y/n actually look good tonight?

I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t beautiful, she always has been — of course, I’d never admit that. But tonight, she looked — good. I can’t think she looks good, I hate her — remember?

I shake off that awful, awful thought and take a few more drags of the cigarette.

“Matt Sturniolo.”

At the sound of my name being said from behind me, I glance over my shoulder, cigarette hanging loose on my lips.

Layla. “I thought I saw you inside.” She says, taking a few steps closer to me.

“Layla.” I say, almost emotionless. “Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“Yeah,” She breathes out, “It’s been awhile.”

I must have really bad luck, or I’m stuck in a really weird dream. Layla and I hooked up a few times last year. It meant nothing to either of us, had no strings attached, hell, we were barley even friends. She called things off before she started dating a guy a year older than us.

Layla has stepped closer, leaning against the railing next to me, I turn to her, barley looking in her eyes. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask.

She laughs dryly at that, “I don’t know, he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

What do I say to that? “Sorry to hear.” Is what I settle on, bringing the cigarette back to my lips.

Layla shrugs. “You’re not drinking tonight?” She asks me, noticing the soda in my hand.

“I’m the DD.” I say simply, noticing she doesn’t have a drink either, I ask, “And you?”

She nods. “Same as you.” Layla sighs, leaning towards me a bit. “Kind of boring being the sober one at a party, right?” She asks, humorously.

I breathe the smoke out, “Nothing about this is fun, anyway.” I mumble.

Her brows raise, “I see your still the grumpy, miserable, Matt you were last time I saw you.”

I just look at her, unsure of what to respond with or if I should at all. That’s when she speaks again, a specific glint in her eyes.

I know where this is going, and personally, I’m bored, don’t care, and down.

“You wanna go upstairs?” She asks, motioning towards the house.

I put the cigarette out and toss it to the ground, “Lead the way.” I say, before following her into the house and into an empty bedroom without a second thought.

y/n’s pov

Adrien and I are still talking, now sitting on the couch in the crowded living room.

We’re sitting rather close, but I don’t mind. Talking with him is actually quite nice, and honestly I’m shocked someone as popular as him is even sitting here with me.

“So, a sports scholarship to Princeton.” I say, following up what he had just told me. “That’s like really impressive, congrats.” I smile.

I’m really hoping I don’t look like an idiot in my poor attempt at flirting, but the couple shots I’ve had and the fruity (yet, strong) punch I’ve been drinking is boosting my confidence a bit.

As Amaya said, I’m trying to ‘live a little.’

We were getting ready together, and I slipped on a short, black dress of hers. “Maya, are you sure this doesn’t look bad on me?” I ask hesitantly, “I feel like my ass is like — out.”

“Y/n, you look hot!” She reassures me, zipping the back of the dress. “Besides, your ass looks great.”

I can’t help but laugh a little at that, “Are you sure it’s not too much for me — I mean, I never wear anything this short-”

“Live a little, Y/n!”

“Thank you.” Adrien chuckles, flashing his smile while fixing his hair a bit. “You know,” he says, leaning in more, so I can hear him. “I’ve always thought you were like really pretty, when I see you in class.”

Is this happening? Is this a dream or something? How do I even respond to that?

I try not to sound breathless, “Thank you,” I say softly, smiling at him. Oh my god, I am bad at this.

“I uh- was wondering if I could get your number? He asks, scratching the back of his head a bit.

“Of course,” I nod, and he hands me his phone to put my number in.

“We should hang out, outside of English class.” He suggests, I laugh, “We should!” I say enthusiastically. “I’ll text you, yeah?” He says, looking at me, shifting to get up off the couch.

“Yeah.” I happily agree.

“Cool.” He grins back, both of us standing up from the couch. “I’m sorry to cut our chat short but my friend, his curfew is in 10, so I have ro drive him home.” Adrien explains.

“No problem, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“See you Monday, Y/n.”

With that, walks through the crowd to search for his friend, glancing over his shoulder to wave back at me. I can’t name any other time I have semi-successfully flirted with a guy, aside from now, so I must look absolutely giddy with excitement.

I take another sip of my punch before glancing around the room for Amaya, who said she was looking for the boys.

When I notice she’s not in here, I walk back towards the kitchen, mumbling ‘excuse me, sorry’ a few times as I weave through the crowd.

When I walk into the kitchen, I immediately spot Nate, who looks like he is fighting the Keg — Chris, Nick, and a couple of their hockey teammates gathered around, drinks in their hands.

“Hey guys,” I greet loudly, so they can hear over the music that is still blaring.

All their heads turn to greet me, aside from Nate who’s preoccupied with the Keg. “Where have you been-!?” Nick asks, dramatically. “I’ve been so bored without you.”

“Wow! That actually hurt my feelings.” Chris exclaims, sounding fake-emotional. Or real, who knows, I could tell he’s had one-too many drinks.

Nick completely ignores his brother and steps over to me, “No seriously, where have you been?” He asks again.

I look up to Nick, I’m sure I have a blush creeping up on my cheeks. “Talking to Adrien Cole.”

“What-!?” Nick practically yells, and I widen my eyes at him. “I mean — what?” He whisper-shouts.

“He asked for my number too,” I smile, Nicks jaw drops. “You’re fucking kidding! Y/n he’s like, beautiful.”

“Who’s beautiful?” Chris chimes in, drunkingly slurring his words a bit and now stepping over to Nick and I, draping his arms over each of our shoulders.

“You, Chris.” I say quickly, smiling at him. Chris looks down at me, smiling. “Nick, did you hear that, Y/n thinks I’m beautiful.” Chris says, turning to Nick, who’s eyes widen a bit ay Chris’ state.

“I think it’s time we cut you off.” Nick states, taking the almost-empty plastic cup of beer from Chris.

“Hey-! Nate is fixing the Keg, I was gonna get a refill.” Chris protests. “Right, Nate?” He calls over to Nate, whose hitting his fist against the side of the Keg in — what I’m guessing, is a poor attempt to fix it.

“That’s right!” Nate holler back, throwing us a thumbs up, before focusing on the Keg again, mumbling profanities.

“Guys, have you seen Amaya, I haven’t seen her in a few,” I speak up, glancing around the kitchen.

Chris just shrugs, “Last time I saw her was with you.” Nick says. I turn to Josh — whose house this is (and now absolutely trashed) “She was on the line for the bathroom,” Josh tells me.

“Great, thanks.” I nod, “I’ll go look for her.”

“Hey, while you’re at it, could you find Matt, we haven’t seen him all night.” Nick adds.

I roll my eyes, and Nick gives me a warning look. “Fine.” I huff.

With that, I head for the stairs, which are still crowded with people, all on line for the bathroom. I step up the stairs, maneuvering around the people, not seeing Amaya or Matt.

I reach the top of the stairs, looking in both directions, a few doors on either side of me. “Amaya?” I call out, walking towards the first door.

“Hey-! You’re cutting the line!” A girl yells, waiting outside the door. Right, that mist be the bathroom.

“Oh- I’m sorry.” I mumble before continuing to the next door, the girl scoffing at me.

I approach the next closed door, knocking on it a few times. “Maya, you in here?” I get no response after a few moments, so I knock against before opening the door, being met with a pitch-black, empty room.

I move past this door, and across the hall to the next door. “Amaya?” I call out again, stepping in front of the door and knocking — hopefully loud enough so it can be heard over the music.

After a moment, no one answers from the other side, so I knock again, still getting nothing.

I make the absolute colossal decision of opening the door slowly, my eyes widening — so much so I think I my eyes nearly fell out.

What I was not expecting to see was Matt, shirtless and laying on the bed, a girl straddling his his lap. His hands are on her hips, while hers are tangled in his hair. The blonde on top of him is fiddling with his belt as they make out.

I swear, I think I am frozen in shock and pure disgust.

At the sound of the door creaking, the girl pulls away and snaps her head to look at me and the sudden sound. Well, shit, this is really fucking awkward.

It’s impossibly more awkward when I recognize the girl, it’s Layla; Matt’s ex, more or less. I don’t think they were ever officially together — besides Matt claims he ‘doesn’t do realtionships’

At the girl pulling away, Matt looks up towards the door; I notice the dark-reddish marks on his neck and the way his lips look. “I’m sorry- I- I didn’t know this room was occupied.” I scramble over my words quickly.

For a second, I think I forget I actually just walked in on Matt hooking up with a girl, and I am yet to close the door, frozen in shock. “Fuck- I’m sorry, I’m going.” I say quickly.

“Yeah, go!” She shouts, still on top of Matt — who is just staring at me.

I begin to close the door, before shaking my head, and almost feeling the alcohol course through my veins. “Lock the door next time, Matt!” I shout, and with that I close the door with a slam.

When it shuts I stop in my tracks, taking a deep breath in. What the fuck just happened? I walk quickly towards the stairs and I practically run down them, beginning to enter the living room, not without bumping into someone. “Finally, Y/n, it’s you.”

Amaya. “Y/n? My god, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” She laughs, noticing what I’m assuming is my mixed expression of disgust and shock.

I look at her, “Not a ghost.” I say, and she furrows her brows. “I walked in on Matt.” I state, straightforward.

Amaya’s jaw drops, “Like- with a girl?” She asks.

I nod, the reality of this very unfortunate experience setting in. “Oh my god!” She exclaims, a thought crossing her mind. “Did you see his-”

“Ew-! Amaya, no!” I practically screech, “I think I’d actually vomit.”

Amaya laughs, “So, what the hell happened? You walked in on him?”

I nod eagerly, “It was so awkward— I was like, in shock.” I say.

“Why, was he shirtless?” Amaya asks, dead serious and very straightforward.

“What? What does that matter?” I scoff, “I was in shock because I had just walked in on him hooking up with a girl.”

Saying that out-loud, feels like reliving the very awkward moment. “Why’d you even walk in there?” Amaya asks.

“I didn’t intend on interrupting them —” I clarify, “I was actually looking for you, and accidentally walked in.”

Amaya snorts a laugh, “Well, he should have locked the door!”

“That’s what I said!”

Eventually, after saying our goodbyes to our friends, Amaya and I decide on leaving the party early (more like, me begging to leave out of embarrassment), my house was just two blocks away so we walked it.

Matt had driven all of us there but there was no way, I was looking at Matt for at least another 24 hours.

Amaya is sleeping over my house, we’ve both changed and taken off our make-up, we’re under the covers of me bed, Amaya is sound asleep while I toss and turn.

That moment keeps replaying in my head — of course, I don’t want it to, but it does. That look Matt gave me was different, it was fueled with his hatred for me, but something else was there, and I don’t know what.

Maybe it was the annoyance of me interrupting his hook-up, but it just felt different— different than the normal cold gazes he has on me.

And crazily enough, though I didn’t admit this to Amaya, he was shirtless, and he did look good.

I’d be lying if I said Matt wasn’t attractive, he always has been, but something tonight, was different. I’d have to be paid to say that out-loud, which makes me wonder why I’m even thinking that in the first place.

It’s Matt, I hate him, remember?

I think I just need sleep — I think I’m too tired and the alcohol in my system is influencing this.

Unfortunately, Saturday morning was rough, to say the least. On top of my hangover, I had to work.

I work at a coffee shop downtown, a small, local Boston establishment everyone loves.

I’m fighting to stay awake while taking orders and hurriedly making coffees — working during an early morning crowd is never fun, especially not with a pounding headache.

“Good Morning, what can I get you today?” I ask, not yet looking up at the costumer, busy looking at the register screen.

“A hot latte, please.” The second I hear that voice I know exactly who it is.

I slowly look up to be met with exactly who I knew it’d be, Matt. He’s looking at me, holding his wallet open, ready to buy something. “Do you not sell coffee.. or?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at me with question.

This absolute dickhead.

I sigh, “Matt, what are you doing here?” I say through gritted teeth.

“Ordering my morning coffee?”

“You don’t drink coffee, Matt.”

Matt nods, “Well, I’m thinking of starting, do you recommend the latte?” He asks, sounding totally casual as if his motive isn’t to annoy me at 8am.

If there is a God, and they are listening, please bless me with patience.

“Matt, I do not have time for this.” I say, glancing at the long line of people behind him.

“Good thing I am a paying costumer who would like a latte.” He says, ignoring the most definitely pissed-off look on my face.

When I take a deep breath in, I do actually pray for patience. I look at Matt, who has his classic, smug, shit-eating grin on his face, and glare at him before putting a ‘hot latte’ into the register.

“$5.65.” I say blankly, Matt flips through the cash in his wallet, handing me six dollars.

He takes this time to turn behind to the next costumer in line — an old man, and says, “Coffee these days, always so damn expensive, am I right, sir?”

I think, Matt may just be the most insufferable person on this planet.

The old man behind him just nods and mumbles in agreement, Matt turns back to me. “Take your change.” I say firmly.

Matt quirks a brow, “That’s no way to speak to a costumer,” He says before moving his head closer, squinting his eyes to look at my name-tag. “Y/n.”

“Matt,” I say his name slowly, “go wait at the other counter for your drink or I will kick you out of here.”

“Only if you tell me when your break is.”

I sigh deeply — which I must’ve done a million times already. I look at the clock on the wall, “Ten minutes.”

Matt nods, shoving his wallet in his pocket. “I’ll wait.” Is all he says before walking to the next counter to wait for his drink.

What the fuck?

Really, there is no one more insufferable than Matt. At least, he likes to act this way with me. If he’s not grumpy and unapproachable, he’s annoying me.

And after last night, and quite literally walking in on him with a girl, I can only imagine what this conversation is about to entail.

For the next ten minutes, I take orders at the register. Occasionally, I glance over to the small 2-seater table, Matt is at.

Ten minutes comes and goes, and before I know it, I’m walking towards Matt’s table. He notices me as I pull the chair across from him out and sit down hesitantly.

“Is this about last night? Look — I didn’t know you guys-” I begin.

Matt cuts me off, “No, well, yes.” He stammers, “Why were you talking to Cole?” He asks, straightforwardly.

I narrow my eyes at him. “This is about Adrien Cole?” I ask in disbelief, and already getting frustrated. “Is that literally what you came here for?”

“He’s an asshole, Y/n.” Matt says, firmly, seriously.

“He’s nice to me, Matt. Besides, what do you care if I talk to him?”

Matt scoffs, “I don’t care. I’m just telling you, he’s an asshole.”

“If you don’t care, then why’d you come out of your way, early in the morning, to tell me this?” I retort, raising my brows. “What does matter to you?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Seems like it does.” I shrug. “And how do you know how he is, you’re not friends with him.” I state.

“Yeah,” Matt, breathes out. “Because he’s a dick.”

“And you’re not?”

Matt narrows his eyes at me, and I can see him shift his jaw a bit. “We were on the same hockey team Sophomore year — even then, the guy was a dick.”

I breathe out, shaking my head. “Well, it’s none of your business who I talk to.”

Matt bites the inside of his cheek, “I was just forewarning you, the guy has a reputation.” He adds.

I scoff, “Again — and you don’t?” I say slowly, getting frustrated.

Matt blinks at me, looking slightly defeated. I watch as he takes a sip of the coffee, and I can tell he fighting the urge to make a face of disgust.

I beat of silence passes. “I didn’t know you were back with Layla?” I ask bluntly, not that I even care, but I just want to annoy him.

“We were never together.” Matt states, “And we’re not back.”

I tilt my head a little, “Seemed like it last night-” I say under my breath.

“Yeah,” Matt scoffs, “Thanks to you, nothing actually happened last night.”

Ew. I think I might actually vomit. “That’s disgusting.”

“You’re just jealous.”

I’m positive my jaw just dropped at that statement, wanting to say something along the lines of ‘As if!’ but instead, I decide to get on his nerves just a little more. “You wish I was, Matt.”

Expecting for him to quickly deny, I’m met with nothing but a shrug from Matt. A shrug.

“Keep dreaming, Y/n.” He grins, “Well, Y/n, it was nice chatting with you.” Matt says abruptly, standing up from his seat.

Thank god, he’s finally leaving. “Yes, this was a wonderful way to spend my break.” I grit out, a straight face.

Matt grins at me, at I stand up fixing my apron. “See you later.” He says.

Right, Amaya and I promised Chris we’d go to their Lacrosse game. I’ve seen way too much of Matt these past 12 hours (figuratively, and literally), and personally the last place I want ro be as it their game. What if I come down with an illness — preferably one that’ll knock me out for a few days?

“See you.” I mumble, watching him walk out the door. “Asshole.” I say under my breath as he leaves.

Six years ago, third-person pov.

“Matt!” Y/n called out, running through the backyard, looking behind bushes. “Matt, come one, I can’t find you!”

Y/n stopped running, putting her hands above her knees to lean over and catch her breath. That’a when she heard rustling behind her, turning around slowly, noticing the one bush she didn’t check, moving.

Which is odd, because its nearly ninety degrees out, the sun is beaming down and there is not even a single small gust of wind.

A small smirk appears on the girls lips and she slowly, and as quietly as possible, walks across her backyard to that bush.

“Aha! I found you!” She shouts, just then, Matt climbs out from between the bush and the fence, brushing leaves off him as he stands up.

“I really thought you wouldn’t find me,” Matt laughs,“You win, Y/n” He smiles.

“You owe me an ice cream! You said if I -”

Matt cuts her off, “If you win, I’ll buy you ice cream when the ice cream truck comes around, I know.” He finishes her sentence, recalling what he had promised Y/n earlier.

She’s still practically jumping with excitement at her victory. “Any flavor I want?”

“Anything you want.” Matt nods.

A few hours later, the sun had began to set as they rode their bikes around their neighborhood — the two’s parents had told them ‘be home before the street lights come on.’

Now, they are sitting on the curb of Y/n’s street, just outside her house. Y/n is enjoying her extra large, chocolate ice cream — with every topping possible.

“You sure you don’t want any?” She asks Matt, “I feel bad. You didn’t get anything,”

He quickly shakes his head, “You won the game, you get the ice cream.” He reassures her.

Y/n nods, taking another spoonful of ice cream. The two twelve-year olds are sitting shoulder to shoulder, their bikes next to them while they enjoy the last few minutes of daylight before the ‘street lights come on.’

It’s just Matt and Y/n today, Chris was sick, and Nick was hanging out with another friend. Y/n enjoys hanging out with Matt — he gets her, and she gets him.

“You have a little —” Matt motions to her chin, she looks at him, trying to wipe off the ice cream from her face, but apparently missing.

Matt laughs at the girl, and she can’t help but feel heat rise to her cheeks. “Here, let me get it.” He says, bringing his thumb to her chin and wiping the chocolate ice cream away.

His hand feels like it’s shaking as it softly, and quickly grazes Y/n’s skin. He seems nervous.

“Got it.” Matt says, she smiles up at him, and he smiles back.

What Y/n didn’t know then, and still doesn’t now — is that her extra large, overly-topped ice cream cost Matt the last of his birthday money.

But that didn’t matter to Matt, if he could, he’d buy that girl anything and never complain.

If he could, he’d give her the moon and stars.

a/n i wanted to keep it just written from y/ns pov and matts pov, but i felt like for a flash back it should be third person. lmk of u guys feel differently tho! and ik ik a looooong chapter, but personally i like to work on a chapter for a week and perfect it and just keeping adding to it yk. anyway, hope you all enjoyed, i am loving this so far and hope u are too! :)

taglist: @55sturn @st7rnioioss @alorsxsturn @raysmayhem-72 @sturnssmuts @sturnrc @junnniiieee07 @vickyzloserz

#Spotify #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #romance books #nicolas sturniolo #nate doe #sturniolo fluff #enemies to lovers

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