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hoshifighting · 4 months

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Synopsis: Once inseparable childhood friends, their bond takes an unexpected turn when you start dating in middle school. Jeonghan's behavior becomes increasingly erratic, transforming him from a supportive friend to a constant source of annoyance. Now, in college, the tables turn, but Jeonghan remains a delightful pain in the ass as old flames are rekindled in the midst of playful banter and undeniable attraction.

Word Count: 6.6k

Soccer Player! Reader, Soccer Player! Jeonghan - Enemies to Lovers

Warnings: smut, reader get pissed asf and beat Jeonghan's ass, unprotected sex, chocking, hair pulling, mentions of violence and aggression, oral (f. receiving), clit stimulation, finger sucking and etc.

In the sprawling grounds of your childhood, Jeonghan and you were inseparable. You spent endless afternoons kicking a worn-out soccer ball around, dreaming of the day you'd play together on the same team. You'd laugh, plan silly pranks, and talk about everything under the sun. But things changed when you started dating someone in middle school.

It was innocent, a fluttering crush that led to hand-holding and stolen glances. It wasn't meant to come between Jeonghan and you, but it did. Suddenly, his jokes turned sharper, the shoulder bumps felt like intentional jabs, and he even started bending the rules during games at frat parties. It felt like he was retaliating for your decision, and you couldn't understand why.

Confused and hurt by the sudden change, you distanced yourself from Jeonghan, and the friendship that had weathered the storms of childhood slowly faded away. The once inseparable duo became strangers, and you never got a chance to ask him what went wrong.

Years later, in the hallowed halls of college, your paths crossed again. Both of you were now dedicated athletes, pursuing your passion for soccer at the collegiate level. Your common friends couldn't help but notice the peculiar dynamic between you and Jeonghan. They often questioned why he treated you the way he did.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the soccer field as you and your friends left the practice session, laughter and banter filling the air. The atmosphere was light, and the camaraderie among teammates was palpable. Little did you know, the calm before the storm was just around the corner.

As you approached the locker room, still basking in the post-practice glow, you suddenly stumbled over someone's soccer cleats. Before you could hit the ground, Seungkwan, one of Jeonghan's friends, swiftly caught you, preventing a potential fall. Confused, you looked around and noticed Jeonghan standing nearby, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

The exchange didn't go unnoticed by your friends and Jeonghan's group. They exchanged glances, the air growing thick with tension. Jeonghan's friends raised questioning eyebrows, seemingly as surprised as your friends.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Seungkwan asked, concern evident in his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks to you," you replied, shooting a pointed look at Jeonghan, who was pretending to be innocent.

Your friends and Jeonghan's friends exchanged puzzled glances, sensing an underlying tension. "What's going on here?" one of your friends asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Before you could respond, another friend chimed in, "And why did Jeonghan just let you stumble like that? Is he okay?"

Jeonghan's friends looked at him, awaiting an explanation. Your friends, on the other hand, turned to you, expecting some clarification.

You took a deep breath, trying to contain your frustration. "I have no idea what's going on with Jeonghan," you said, shooting him a piercing glare. "But it's clear he's up to something, and I'm not in the mood for his games."

Jeonghan feigned innocence, a playful smile still on his face. "Games? Who, me? Nah, I was just standing here minding my own business," he said, shrugging.

Your jaw clenched as you fought the urge to respond. Instead, you turned away, leaving your friends behind, both groups noting the storm brewing within you. The air was thick with tension as you walked away, the unspoken question lingering in the minds of your friends and Jeonghan's group.

The locker room buzzed with excitement as you and your friends prepared for Soonyoung's party. The air was thick with hairspray and the lingering scent of sweat from the day's soccer practice. You sat on the bench, applying moisturizer to your tired legs, the cool cream a welcome relief after a rigorous workout. The dress you had chosen for the evening hung on the nearby hook, and you adjusted its hem, ensuring it fell just right.

As you meticulously prepared for the night ahead, your mind wandered back to Jeonghan's recent antics. A frown creased your forehead, and you let out an exasperated sigh. "I can't believe he pulled that stunt again. What's his problem?" you muttered, your frustration evident in your voice.

Your friend, sitting beside you, glanced up from her own makeup routine. "Jeonghan? What did he do now?" she asked, concern etching her features.

You rolled your eyes, recounting the incident with Seungkwan catching you and Jeonghan's apparent amusement. "He's just being his usual self—playing silly games and trying to get under my skin. It's like he's on a mission to annoy me today," you grumbled, the irritation evident in your tone.

Your friend sighed, setting down her makeup to focus on you. "You know how he is. Don't let him ruin your mood. It's Soonyoung's party, and we're here to have fun," she said, offering you a reassuring smile.

You nodded, appreciating her attempt to calm your brewing frustration. "I know, I know. But sometimes, he just gets on my nerves, and I can't figure out why he's like that."

With a soft chuckle, your friend gently pulled you into a side hug. "Maybe he's just Jeonghan, being Jeonghan. You can't change that, but you can control how you react. Don't let him ruin your night. We're here to dance, laugh, and enjoy. Let's focus on that, okay?"

She then turned her attention to your hair, expertly weaving a simple yet elegant hairstyle. The rhythmic motion of her hands and the comforting presence of your friend helped ease the tension that had built up. You took a deep breath, deciding to take her advice to heart.

"You're right. Let's forget about Jeonghan and have an amazing night," you said, forcing a smile as you shifted your focus back to the excitement of the party ahead.

Soonyoung's house pulsated with music and laughter as you and your friends embraced the vibrant atmosphere of the party. The beats compelled everyone to move, and you found yourself in the center of the makeshift dance floor, swaying to the rhythm with carefree abandon.

Soonyoung, the life of the party, approached you with a mischievous grin. "Y/N, you've got some moves! Are you sure you're not a secret dance prodigy?" he exclaimed, playfully exaggerating his surprise.

You laughed, the music drowning out your response, but you playfully mimed a humble acknowledgment. The two of you danced together for a while, and Soonyoung's infectious energy was contagious, adding to the carefree spirit of the night.

As you grooved to the music, Mingyu, a tall and athletic figure from the men's soccer team, made his way through the crowd towards you. He leaned in to talk in your ear, his voice barely audible over the booming music. "Hey, about the games next week, we're having joint practice sessions for both teams. You'll need to be close to me for some of the drills, okay?" he explained, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You nodded in agreement, giving him a thumbs up to signal that you understood the plan for the upcoming practices. Mingyu smiled and excused himself, disappearing back into the crowd.

Just as you turned to share the news with your friends, one of them pulled you aside, her expression serious. "Y/N, you might want to look behind you. Jeonghan looks like he's ready to burn holes into your soul with that glare of his," she warned, a hint of concern in her voice.

Confused, you glanced over your shoulder to find Jeonghan, indeed, shooting daggers at you with intense eyes. He was sipping from a red cup, his expression unreadable. You turned back to your friend, your face betraying a mix of surprise and discomfort.

"Why is he looking at me like that?" you asked, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

"He's probably not thrilled about you getting cozy with Mingyu," your friend speculated, a knowing look in her eyes.

You sighed, feeling the weight of Jeonghan's gaze on you. "Well, it's not like Mingyu and I were dancing intimately or anything. It was just about the soccer practice."

Before you could dwell on it further, Soonyoung grabbed a microphone, calling everyone's attention. "Alright, party people! Who's up for a game? Gather 'round!"

The game of "Musical Chairs" had escalated to a nail-biting climax, leaving only one chair in the center of the circle. To your surprise and dismay, Jeonghan emerged as your final opponent. The tension between you two had already been palpable, and now it seemed like the universe had conspired to put you in a face-off.

As the music stopped, you quickly claimed the last chair, ready to breathe a sigh of relief. However, before you could fully settle, Jeonghan decided to add a twist. In a daring move, he pulled the chair out from under you, leaving you flat on the floor, much to the shock of the onlookers.

A collective gasp echoed through the room, and someone in the background shouted, "He cheated!" Of course he cheated.

Without a second thought, you sprang to your feet, rage burning in your eyes. The buzz of screams around you became a distant hum as you leaped onto Jeonghan, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The chaotic scene was cut short as people rushed to pull you away from Jeonghan, attempting to defuse the situation. You found yourself sitting on a nearby couch, your face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Jeonghan, on the other hand, sat in the opposite corner, arms crossed, with noticeable nail marks on his neck courtesy of your unbridled fury.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the hushed whispers and concerned glances exchanged between partygoers. Your friends shot you apologetic looks, clearly sensing the tension in the air.

After a brief pause, Jeonghan's friends took charge, ushering him to a separate corner for what seemed like a stern talking-to. Meanwhile, your friends approached you, expressions a mix of concern and amusement.

"Y/N, are you okay?" one of your friends asked, patting you on the back.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment. "I'm fine. It's just... Jeonghan being Jeonghan," you replied, attempting to downplay the situation.

Amidst the residual tension and the discomfort of being in the same room as Jeonghan after the chaotic "Musical Chairs" incident, you felt a wave of frustration wash over you. Without a second thought, you began searching for your handbag and jacket, determined to leave.

"I've had enough," you muttered to yourself, the irritation evident in your voice.

Your friends and some of Jeonghan's friends noticed your abrupt movement and stepped in, attempting to halt your exit.

"Y/N, wait, don't go!" one of your friends called out, concern etched on her face.

Another friend from Jeonghan's group chimed in, "Come on, it was just a silly game. Don't let that ruin your night."

But you were resolute, determined to distance yourself from the escalating tension. "I can't deal with this anymore. Every time it's the same, and I'm done," you stated firmly, your tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Jeonghan's friends tried to reason with you. "He didn't mean for things to get out of hand. You know how he is," one of them pleaded, attempting to diffuse the situation.

You paused, torn between frustration and understanding. "I get it, but there's a limit. This has gone too far," you replied, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Jeonghan, sensing the gravity of the situation, looked conflicted from across the room, his expression a mix of regret and concern. He made a move as if to say something, but hesitated, unsure how to approach the situation.

But you had made up your mind. Ignoring the attempts to convince you otherwise, you swiftly grabbed your belongings and made for the door, your determination unwavering. The echoes of your friends' and Jeonghan's friends' voices calling after you faded as you stepped out into the cool night air.

The sound of the door closing behind you marked the end of a tumultuous night at Soonyoung's party. Outside, you took a deep breath, the weight of the evening slowly lifting as you prepared to leave the tensions of the night behind and head home. Sometimes, setting boundaries and taking a step back was necessary, even if it meant leaving a party prematurely.

The week had been a blur of training sessions and preparations for the upcoming game, leaving you with little time to dwell on the events of Soonyoung's party. As you walked through the university garden on a crisp Monday morning, the weight of the week's responsibilities pressed upon you. Your mind was focused on the game ahead, and you had almost forgotten about the tension with Jeonghan.

However, as you approached the entrance to your classroom, you were met with an unexpected sight. Jeonghan and his friends stood there, creating an invisible barrier between you and the classroom door. The air thickened with anticipation as you hesitated, catching your breath.

Not wanting to escalate the situation, you offered a curt nod and a short greeting, "Hi," before attempting to walk past them into the classroom.

Seungcheol, one of Jeonghan's friends, took a step forward. "Wait, Y/N. There's something Jeonghan needs to say," he said, his tone commanding.

You sighed, crossing your arms, signaling your readiness to listen but maintaining a defensive posture. The empty classroom echoed with silence as you waited.

Seungcheol turned to Jeonghan, his grip on Jeonghan's uniform firm. "Go on, say what you need to say," he instructed.

Jeonghan hesitated, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. After a moment, he managed to mumble, "Sorry, Y/N."

You squinted your eyes, incredulous. "Is that really coming from you?" you asked, your voice skeptical.

Seungcheol's grip tightened for a moment, a silent reminder to Jeonghan to speak sincerely. Lowering his head with a visible sense of regret, Jeonghan repeated, "I'm really sorry about that," his apology sounding more genuine this time.

You raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting to see if there was anything more to his apology.

After an awkward pause, Jeonghan bowed, a gesture of contrition, before hastily leaving the classroom. The door swung shut behind him, Seungcheol lingered for a moment, meeting your gaze with a nod of acknowledgement. Without saying a word, he followed Jeonghan out of the classroom, leaving you to contemplate the unexpected encounter.

The soccer field buzzed with the energy of the morning practice as both the men's and women's teams warmed up for the upcoming game. You were in the midst of your pre-game routine, jogging and stretching alongside your teammates, anticipation building for the match ahead.

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, and both teams began weaving across the field in a display of skill and strategy. The intensity of the game kept you focused until an unexpected jolt of pain shot through the posterior part of your thigh, causing you to crumple to the ground in discomfort.

The trainer quickly halted the game, and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to endure the sharp pain. Soon, you felt hands carefully stretching your leg to alleviate the cramp. Assuming it was one of your teammates, you didn't pay much attention until you opened your eyes and realized it wasn't just anyone—it was Jeonghan.

He held your feet against his shoulder, applying gentle pressure to help ease the pain. The memories of your childhood flashed before your eyes—times when you had done the same for him. You brushed the nostalgia away, focusing on the present moment.

The trainer instructed you to move to the bench for further treatment, and you hopped on one foot, trying to shake off the discomfort. Sitting on the bench, frustration etched across your face, you couldn't help but feel unsatisfied with your performance being cut short by the unexpected cramp.

Jeonghan approached, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you okay, Y/N?" he asked, his voice carrying a genuine worry.

You shot him a quick glance, a mix of irritation and pain on your face. "I'll be fine. Just a cramp. It's nothing," you replied tersely, trying to downplay the situation.

Jeonghan hovered, unsure of how to respond. "If there's anything I can do—"

You cut him off, your tone a blend of frustration and dismissal. "I've got it, Jeonghan. Just focus on the game."

The sun blazed overhead as you continued your solo training on the field, determined to push yourself beyond the limits. The intensity of the game had faded into the background, and now it was just you, the field, and the relentless heat. Water bottles scattered around you, evidence of the effort you were putting in.

Lost in your focus, you were suddenly brought back to reality when you noticed Jeonghan sitting on the bench nearby, his arms crossed. It was then that you realized you had lost track of time.

"How long have you been sitting there?" you asked, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Jeonghan remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the field. "Long enough to know it's not safe to train under this sun," he finally responded.

You scoffed, dismissing his concern. "I need to train, Jeonghan. I can't afford to slack off."

He sighed, uncrossing his arms. "And that's exactly why you ended up with a cramp earlier. Your muscles are exhausted."

The tension between you and Jeonghan simmered as you prepared to leave the field, feeling a mixture of frustration and reluctance to accept his advice. As you rose from the bench, ready to head towards the locker rooms, Jeonghan's hand reached out, gently gripping your wrist.

"You've always been stubborn," he remarked, his voice soft yet firm.

You turned to face him, a flash of irritation crossing your features. "It's not like you care anyway," you retorted, trying to pull your wrist from his grasp.

You pulled your wrist from his grip, shooting him a sharp look. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan sighed, choosing his words carefully. "I remember when we were kids, you were always determined and driven. But now, it's like your determination has turned into something else—an edge, a sharpness."

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, "Well, maybe if you hadn't been such a pain in the ass all these years, I wouldn't need an edge to deal with you."

As Jeonghan mumbled something about Eunwoo— your ex-boyfriend from middle school — ruining everything, your curiosity was piqued. You turned your ear towards him, a puzzled expression on your face. "Who? Eunwoo? What does he have to do with anything?"

Jeonghan's eyes widened, a brief moment of panic crossing his face. He stammered, attempting to deny any connection, but the truth was written all over his expression. It was clear – he was jealous of Eunwoo.

Your mind clicked into place, connecting the dots. "Wait a minute... are you telling me you've been jealous of Eunwoo?"

Jeonghan hesitated, avoiding eye contact, but the admission lingered in the air. A mix of surprise and realization played on your features. "Seriously? You've been jealous this whole time?"

He shifted uncomfortably, searching for words. "It's not like that! I just... I've known you for so long, and seeing you with someone else—"

You cut him off, unable to contain a laugh. "Jeonghan, are you kidding me? You've been acting like this because of jealousy?"

He looked a bit sheepish but attempted to maintain his composure. "It's not just jealousy. It's just... complicated."

You couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief. "Complicated? Jeonghan, you've been playing games, making jokes, and being a pain in the ass, all because of some weird, complicated jealousy thing?"

The revelation that Jeonghan's years of stubborn behavior were rooted in jealousy over a mere one-month affair left you both astonished and perplexed. As you walked towards the locker rooms, the air hung heavy with unspoken thoughts, and you couldn't hold back from addressing the situation.

"You mean to tell me that all these years of your antics and stubbornness were because of a one-month affair?" you asked, disbelief coloring your tone.

Jeonghan avoided direct eye contact, a sheepish expression on his face. "I didn't plan for things to get this complicated. It just happened."

You shook your head in amazement. "Jeonghan, we've been friends for so long. Why didn't you just talk to me about it? You let this jealousy fester for years over something so trivial?"

"I thought if I acted like it didn't bother me, it would go away. Clearly, that didn't work." He points, creating a silence between you two.

You couldn't help but notice the faint marks on his skin from the intense encounter during the party. The remnants of your frustration were etched in the form of nail marks, a visual reminder of the heated exchange.

After a moment of contemplation, you decided to address the elephant in the room. "Hey, Jeonghan, about the party... I'm sorry about, you know, beating your ass," you said, gesturing towards the marks on his neck. "But, honestly, you kind of deserved it."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, "No need to apologize, Y/N. I probably deserved it."

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in your voice, "Deserved it? What's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan sighed, admitting, "Well, maybe I've been a bit of a pain lately, and I needed a wake-up call."

You crossed your arms, still not fully convinced, "So, you intentionally provoked me?"

He nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips, "Yeah, but not because I enjoy getting my ass kicked. I just... I didn't know how else to deal with everything, and it all got a bit out of hand."

You let out a small huff, "Well, next time, try talking instead of provoking. It might save you some nail marks."

Jeonghan chuckled at your apology, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. Nail marks come with the territory, and I can handle a bit of rough play."

You shot him a skeptical look, "You're awfully calm about having marks on your neck."

He winked, a playful smirk on his face, "Actually, I find it kind of sexy. Adds a bit of excitement, you know?"

You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by his nonchalant attitude. "Well, I'm not planning on making a habit out of beating you up."

Jeonghan laughed, "Fair enough, but if you ever feel the need to express your frustrations again, just aim for my back next time. It might be a bit more enjoyable for both of us."

Your eyes widened at his bold suggestion, "Are you serious?"

He shrugged, a playful glint still in his eyes, "Why not? It's all in good fun."

You shook your head, a mix of amusement and disbelief. "You're impossible, Jeonghan."

[...]

The week leading up to the game passed in a surprisingly calm manner. Jeonghan's demeanor had shifted, and the lingering tension that once colored your interactions had dissipated. His jokes were now more lighthearted, and both of your groups could finally enjoy lunch without the threat of any neck-ripping incidents.

As the day of the game approached, nervous anticipation settled in. The stakes were high, and the pressure was palpable. On the field, the air crackled with a mix of excitement and tension as the moment of truth drew near.

The referee's whistle pierced the air, signaling the start of the game. You, alongside your teammates, advanced with determination. The match was tight, a fierce competition between your team and the opposing university. The score remained deadlocked, each side vying for that crucial goal that could tip the scales in their favor.

With only moments left before the game would potentially go into penalties, an opportunity presented itself. The goalkeeper seemed far, and the ball rolled towards you. It was your chance. With a burst of adrenaline, you sprinted towards the goal, the crowd's cheers blending into a distant roar.

In that critical moment, you kicked the ball with precision, the satisfying thud echoing through the stadium as it sank into the net. The eruption of cheers from the crowd was deafening, and your teammates rushed to embrace you.

Amidst the chaos of celebrating students flooding onto the field, your friends engulfed you in hugs, relishing the triumph, but your gaze was drawn towards Jeonghan. His seated figure and the small punches he absentmindedly threw into the air betrayed a different, quieter emotion. It was a momentary glimpse behind the facade he often wore, revealing a side of him that wasn't always apparent.

The day had been long and exhausting, and the comfort of a warm bath had been a much-needed respite. As the echo of the doorbell reached your ears, you wrapped yourself in a robe, moving swiftly to answer it.

Opening the door just a crack, you peeked out, surprised to find Jeonghan standing in the hallway. "Jeonghan?" you questioned, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

He met your gaze with a warm smile. "Hey, I wanted to congratulate you," he said, a sense of genuine admiration in his tone.

Pausing for a moment, you hesitated before deciding to let him in. Opening the door wider, you gestured for him to step inside your dorm room. Jeonghan entered, a look of determination on his face.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around you in an unexpected hug, catching you off guard. The embrace was surprisingly comforting, the warmth of his presence a stark contrast to the hectic day.

"Thanks, Y/N," he murmured, his voice soft.

For a moment, you were taken aback by the sudden intimacy. His gesture felt sincere, and as he pulled away, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

"Um, thanks," you managed, feeling a mixture of surprise and gratitude.

Jeonghan smiled warmly, the tension of the day momentarily forgotten. "I just wanted to say it in person. You did great."

"I did, didn't I?" you teased with a playful grin, breaking the silence that lingered in your room.

Jeonghan scoffed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, you did."

An air of uncertainty settled between you as he fidgeted, his hands finding refuge in his pockets. The room was charged with unspoken tension, both of you seemingly on the edge of something unexplored.

After a few moments of hesitation, Jeonghan let out a sigh, a resigned "fuck it" escaping his lips. In an instant, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a surprising and passionate kiss. The shock sent a jolt through your body, but you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor.

He pressed you against the wall, the sudden intensity of the moment causing your heart to race. Your fingers tangled in his long hair, a tangible connection forming between you.

In the charged atmosphere of the moment, Jeonghan's hands gripped your waist, his thumbs tracing teasing circles on the towel cloth of your robe. With a mischievous grin, he released your lower lip with a soft pop, his gaze lingering on your face.

As he pressed his body against yours, the knot of your robe seemed to have mysteriously loosened, creating a seductive cleavage that exposed the curves of your bust. The fabric hung on the brink of revealing more, almost exposing your nipple.

You whispered, your voice barely audible, "Jeonghan."

Jeonghan leaned back, his eyes widening as he saw your robe almost undone. A gulp escaped him, and he hurriedly moved to close the cloth around you. Your hands intercepted his, holding them in place. There was a shared understanding in that moment—a tacit agreement that things had shifted, and there was no turning back.

With a steady gaze, you opened the robe, exposing your body. Jeonghan's breath caught, his hands instinctively gripping the sides of the robe tightly. The room seemed to buzz with an electric tension, and the air felt charged with anticipation.

His hands found their way to your hips, fingers pinching the fabric of your robe. The sensation sent shivers down your spine as his touch left an indelible mark on the uncharted territory of your connection.

As the intimate moment continued, Jeonghan led you to sit on the couch. His hands caressing the skin under your belly button, opening you by your inner thighs, until he reaches your pussy. He licks his fingers, starting to circle your clit, you muffle a moan, closing your eyes when you feel two of his fingers entering you.

"Jeonghannie…"

A soft moan escaped your lips, and in the hushed aftermath, you whispered, "Jeonghannie."

He hummed in response, the sound a tender acknowledgment of the nickname that had slipped past your lips. There was an unspoken intimacy in the way he absorbed the words, a resonance that spoke of shared history and a connection that had weathered the complexities of time.

"I missed that," Jeonghan admitted, his mouth sucking your clit, and you jolted, moving your hips, almost riding his fingers.

His request hung in the air, and you felt a flutter of anticipation as Jeonghan, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, asked, "Can you do that again?"

A coy smile played on your lips as you willingly obliged. "Jeonghannie," you moaned, the sound escaping your lips with an undeniable fervor.

His fingers curled, and your body tenses while you throw your head back, a satisfied smile forming on his face. The room was filled with a charged energy, and the intimacy between you deepened with each shared moment. "Again," he requested, the playful challenge evident in his eyes.

Your voice, laced with desire, echoed the familiar nickname once more, "Ah! Jeonghannie."

A low chuckle escaped him as he reveled in the sound, flicking your bud with his tongue. Your pussy was tight around his fingers, and he knows you are almost there. So he stops. As you whimpered, a question escaped your lips, "You won't be stubborn here too, right?" The anticipation in your voice held a hint of vulnerability.

Jeonghan, his jaw clenched and a firm grip in your hair, made you look into his intense gaze. There was a magnetic intensity in his eyes that seemed to hold the weight of unspoken desires.

He teased, his voice low and husky, "What if I want you to beg, hmm?"

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, the raw desire and dominance in his tone leaving you breathless. A breathy uncertainty laced your voice as you echoed, "B-beg?"

Jeonghan's grip on your hair tightened slightly, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "That's right. Beg for it," he murmured, his tone a blend of command and temptation.

The air between you crackled with a newfound intensity, and as you hesitated, his fingers entwined in your hair, he repeated, "Beg, Y/N."

Your heartbeat quickened, and the room seemed to close in around you. The vulnerability of the moment hung in the air, and in a hushed voice, you uttered the words he sought, "Please, Jeonghan." Your pussy clenching around nothing.

"Please what, Y/N?" he inquired, his eyes locked onto yours, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

"Please let me cum on your mouth Jeonghannie..." You cried out, and fuck, you felt like a pathetic slut.

He smiles, sucking your cunt, licking everywhere, your moans escaping your lips, an uncontrollable melody of pleasure. Sensing an opportunity to play, Jeonghan added his own voice to the symphony, a low and enticing moan that mirrored the rhythm of your own.

As you continued to moan, he intensified his efforts, each sound a deliberate echo of your pleasure. His moans grew louder, the teasing quality evident in every sultry note.

Your legs lock him, and he makes you cum messily on his tongue. Your feel dizzy, how the fuck you are trembling on your couch, with robe opened, and Jeonghan giving you a mind-blowing oral?

Jeonghan, with a deliberate and firm movement, turned you around, positioning you with your arms gripping the backrest of the couch. Your body arched, your ass lifted in the air, the vulnerability and anticipation palpable in the intimate moment.

Your cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation, and you avoided turning to look at him. The heat emanating from Jeonghan behind you was palpable, and you rested your face on the sofa, trying to conceal the flush that colored your features.

Suddenly, his hands moved swiftly, gripping your hair with a rough intensity. He pulled you closer, and your back pressed against his chest. Jeonghan pressed his lips against yours. However, your mouth fell open, and you couldn't reciprocate the kiss as you felt him pushing his thick cock inside.

The pace quickened, Jeonghan's hips moving surprisingly fast, each thrust making your body bounce with every stroke. The sounds that escaped your lips were a mix of pleasure and restraint. Unsure if the walls could contain the intensity, you bit your lips almost to the point of tasting blood, attempting to stifle the moans that threatened to escape.

Jeonghan, disapproving of your attempt to silence yourself, held the back of your neck. He pressed your face against the pillowed backrest of the couch, a commanding tone accompanying his touch. "Don't hold back your moans," he ordered, his voice a low, authoritative whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

The sounds of skin slapping echoed in the background, but Jeonghan's insistence on hearing your unrestrained pleasure added a new layer of pleasure sent directly to your cunt.

Stuttering, you managed to express your concern, "J-Jeonghan, people can listen," the words slipping between the gasps and moans.

He, however, seemed indifferent. "I don't give a fuck," he asserted, the determination in his voice unwavering.

You insisted, "Anyone can pass in the hall and hear us."

In response, he scoffed, dismissing the concern. Without a word, he pushed two fingers into your mouth, silencing you momentarily as you involuntarily drooled around them.

Jeonghan's blunt question hung in the air, "Good for you now, slut?" Your response came in the form of a satisfied mumble, an unspoken acknowledgment of the shared pleasure.

He, however, expressed a sentiment of unfairness, his voice carrying a mix of teasing and genuine desire. "That's unfair, Y/N. I've waited so long to hear you like this, and now you're impeding me from enjoying it?"

He pushes you to lay your back on the couch, pushing his dick inside of you again. His hands are now choking you slightly. Your response was a breathless laugh, a mixture of amusement and pleasure. "I can't help it if you're too impatient, Jeonghan."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through your shared space. "Impatient? After all this time? I've been waiting for this, and now you're telling me I have to be patient?" A teasing glint sparkled in his eyes as he continued, "You're a tease, Y/N. Making me wait, and now you're holding back."

You playfully rolled your eyes, even though his words resonated with a certain truth. "Maybe I enjoy making you wait. Builds anticipation, doesn't it?"

Jeonghan grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well, I hope you're ready to make up for lost time."

The rhythm intensified, and the force of Jeonghan's hips against you became more pronounced. The friction started to border on discomfort, and you shut your eyes tightly, desperate to channel all the overwhelming pleasure into a refuge against screaming aloud. Your hands found their way to his back, nails digging into his skin and trailing all the way down.

Your moans and gasps mingled in the air, both of you caught in the throes of pleasure. The sheer intensity of the moment made coherent conversation impossible, reducing any attempts to words that stuttered out in fragmented pleasure.

His mouth fell open, and he called your name with a voice that echoed the shared ecstasy. "Y/N," he stammered, the syllables breaking with the weight of desire, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that engulfed both of you.

The intensity of the moment pushed you to repeat the action, your nails running harder and more unconsciously down his back. A gasp escaped him, filling the room as his climax overtook him, making his body shiver with the force of pleasure.

After the peak of pleasure subsided, he took a moment to catch his breath. "This is a dirty game you played on me," he remarked, a hint of sulking in his voice. The unexpected intensity of the encounter, spurred by the simple action of your nails on his back, had left him vulnerable and surprised.

A playful smirk played on your lips as you teased him, "Oh, you're really into scratching your skin, aren't you?"

Jeonghan's sulky expression transformed into a sheepish grin. "Well, maybe a little. You seem to have a talent for it."

As the playful banter continued, Jeonghan's hand ventured down your body, his touch purposeful circling your clit. The exploration was gentle yet intent, working to build the anticipation and pleasure that would lead you to orgasm.

A connection of affection and determination passed between you as you held his forearm, your eyes locked onto his. The look in his eyes conveyed a desire for you to cum,, the unspoken connection between you and Jeonghan deepening with each breath.

His hands worked faster, and your breath quickened in response. You avoided looking at him, lost in the overwhelming sensations. A hiss escaped him as you clenched around him, your back arching from the couch, the sensation of your nipples brushing against his skin adding an extra layer of intensity. In the throes of passion, you called him "Jeonghannie," the nickname slipping past your lips in a breathless plea.

"I'm going to—" you began, the words catching in your throat as pleasure surged through you.

Jeonghan, with a husky urgency, filled the silence, "Cum for me, my beautiful whore…" You reaching a crescendo as he urged you to surrender to the pleasure. "Cream on my cock, my beautiful Y/N. Let go for me."

You held onto his forearm tighter, gasping for air and calling out his name every time more louder. His response was a husky affirmation, "Yes, baby, just like that. Mhmm, that's my little slut."

The orgasm finally hit you, a powerful wave of pleasure surging through your body as you creamed hard around him. The room filled with the unmistakable sounds of your release, a symphony of ecstasy echoing in the air. Jeonghan, caressing your hair, tried to soothe you from the intensity of the climax.

"Fuck, I'll have to take another bath," you said, and Jeonghan chuckled, his voice laced with a satisfied tone, "Well, at least it will be with me."

He held you gently, leading the way to clean up. The shared bath became a tender moment, the water soothing and cleansing as you both relaxed.

Afterward, you lay on your bed, and Jeonghan sat on the edge. You called him, and he turned his head, carefully facing you. "What's up?"

You took a moment before admitting, "I saw the scratches on your back in the bath, but I was embarrassed to tell you."

He got up and turned his back to the mirror on your wardrobe, trying to take a peek at what you did. A smile spread across his face as he examined the red lines on the milky skin of his back. "Looks like you had fun back there," he teased, turning to face you.

Jeonghan, playfully teasing, grinned and said, "How am I going to explain this to my friends in the locker room?"

You joined in the playful banter, suggesting, "Maybe avoid changing around them this week."

He chuckled and offered a humorous solution, "I can always say I got into a fight with a cat."

Both of you burst into laughter, the shared joke creating a light and carefree atmosphere.

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stayinlimbo · 2 months

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hotel check-ins

pairing: idol!lee minho x f!reader genre: established relationship, fluff requested?: yes warnings: cuteness, slight suggestiveness towards the end, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, lowercase intended word count: 1.0k note: (did i add three different lee know pics because i don't know how to find three from the same shoot...maybe). thank you @starfire21 for the request. i hope i did it justice. now playing - billie bossa nova ♡

as the girlfriend of a kpop idol, you’ve become somewhat of a pro at navigating security.

badge check? easy. safety briefing? lightwork (no reaction). being inconspicuous? you got a couple side-eyes from the hotel receptionists at the sunglasses and mask obscuring your face, but it’s nothing you haven’t handled before.

the only trouble you had was using the codename minho texted you after the concert to obtain his suite number from the front desk. in fact, it’s the first thing you gripe about after your boyfriend whisks you inside the room the two of you will reside in for the night.

“really? ‘lee jisung?’ who chose that?”

“i did.”

“shocker.”

“i know. i wanted ‘lee know is cute’ but they said no,” minho replies casually, a smile illuminating his face.

the sigh you let out is mostly for show at this point, in contrast to the no longer suppressed grin you display in return. you can’t even pretend to be annoyed at the man who tugged you through the doorway after a singular knock.

minho’s hand still gently holds your wrist, and he uses this to his advantage to pull you closer to him. a synchronized “oof” leaves both of your lips as you collide into his chest, taken aback by his unexpected strength. light laughter fills the otherwise silent room as you settle into a familiar embrace.

his arms traverse to your waist, guiding your body to nestle further against his. wrapping your arms around his neck, you rest your cheek on his collarbone, tilting your head slightly to press a tender kiss to the underside of his jaw.

the scent of minho’s shampoo fills your senses as your hand roams through his semi-dry hair. from this angle, you can tell that his stage makeup has been carefully wiped off for the night, revealing the small, beautiful imperfections you love oh so much.

“i missed you,” you mumble, breaking the comfortable silence.

“i missed you too” minho breathes, squeezing your frame tighter, “the door was unlocked, you know? you could’ve just walked in.”

“aw, poor baby,” you coo teasingly, pulling back slightly to face him, “it must’ve been torture to be without me for so long.”

“you say that as if it wasn’t the same for you,” he retorts lightly, moving his hands to rest on your hips. you can’t help the laughter that escapes you as he gently shakes you in place in retaliation. as if you would ever feel otherwise.

you reach up to pinch his cheek, smile growing even wider at his feigned disgruntled expression fighting (and losing) against the tugging at the corners of his lips.

“stay would be so jealous right now if they knew about this,” you say once you’ve calmed down enough.

“about what?”

“this side of you.”

the small, genuine smile adorning his face at your words. the light dusting of blush across his cheeks that reaches the tips of his ears. the post-concert afterglow still lingering on his expression, eyes flickering over your features ever so slightly more than normal. the way he tries to act nonchalant as he brings his face closer to yours.

the side only you get to see.

“mm, too bad for them then,” minho whispers. his breath intertwines with yours at his proximity, stopping a breadth away from your mouth. just a little closer. “i’m yours.”

“yeah, you’re mine,” you murmur, moving forward to close the distance between your lips.

small chimes emitting from his pajama short’s pocket compel you to plant a tiny peck on the corner of his mouth instead, slowly pulling away as he attempts to chase your lips.

“aren't you going to check that, min?” you ask, chuckling at his soft protests from the denied affection.

a cute pout forms on his face, accompanied by furrowed brows, as one of his hands releases your hip to dig his phone out of his pocket. your thumb brushes over his cheekbone as he stares at the phone before turning it off and tossing the small device over his shoulder. quiet thuds echo around the room as it lands and bounces on the hotel bed.

wait. what?

“min–”

your words are interrupted by minho’s soft, moisturized lips enveloping your own. your eyes flutter shut as he allows you to take the lead, slowly brushing your lips against his, savoring the taste of fresh mint on his tongue. minho deepens the kiss, grabbing your palm cradling his cheek and holding it flat against his chest, right above his heart—where you always reside.

minho’s pupils are blown out when you pull away for air, which you have no doubt mirrors your own. heavy breaths mingle together as you both try to regain composure. his heart beats widely beneath your touch and you’re unable to resist the heat spreading across your cheeks at the effect you have on him.

“could that have been important?” you question, glancing over at the phone resting behind him.

“maybe,” minho shugs. his eyes trail back down to your lips, drawing you in again for a heated kiss. “not more important than you though.”

his heart still pulses erratically under the press of your hand. you meet his half-lidded gaze with a smile, letting your eyes wander across his slightly swollen lips and flushed cheeks. you push the bangs that fell into his face out of his eyes, giving a teasing kiss to the tip of his nose.

well played.

“i take it you still have energy leftover?” you smirk, already knowing the answer. “need any help with that?”

minho’s eyes widen, his grasp on your hips tightening as a shiver runs down his spine. you didn’t think his heart could beat any faster.

“the walls aren’t soundproof. chan will break down the door.”

“maybe you should go lock it then.”

minho’s never moved faster in his life.

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺

bonus: (“should i call you lee jisung now?”

“please don’t.”)

bonus 2: (“how’d you know the rooms aren’t sound proof?”

“felix brought his gaming pc.”

“oh.”)

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz

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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel Master List

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! I will write for pretty much any of the characters from this show.

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

List of Things I Won't Write

Requests are marked in pink

Series are marked in purple

Suggestive are marked in orange

NSFW are marked in red

ALASTOR

Make You Wish Master List -> Y/n has known Alastor since she first ended up in Hell. When he disappeared? She thought her life was over. Seven years have passed since then and slowly but surely, the 1950s housewife turned murderer has made a life for herself, full of good decisions and some bad ones. What will happen when Alastor turns back up again, sending the world as she has made it into chaos once again? Multi chapter fic.

Rhapsody Master List → Gn!Reader. Alastor and Y/n have been taking down the overlords of Hell together for years but Y/n has had a secret and Alastor knows it. They each go their separate ways because of this but what happens when years later their paths intersect once again. Loosely inspired by Raine and Eda in The Owl House.

Alastor Master List -> I have so many Alastor fics/one shots that they have their own master list now.

LUCIFER

Encore (Lucifer x Reader) → Lucifer went to the hotel wanting to talk to Charlie. Instead, he found the shy demoness who had been unable to meet his eyes the last time he’d visited on the stage.

I Myself am Strange and Unusual (Alastor x Living!Addams family!Reader x Lucifer) → Y/n is bored and summons some demons.

Lovely (Lucifer x Witch!Reader) → Lucifer had heard rumor of the demon with the ability to alter people's memories. Y/n was a marvel and he had her wrapped right around his pinky.

VOX

Destruction//Creation (Vox x Alastor's Ex!Reader x Alastor) → Alastor refuses to let the past die and Y/n would rather pretend it never existed.

Unexpected (Vox x Fox Demon!Reader) → Vox tries to make a deal with one of Valentino’s girls.

Smudge (Vox x Gn!Partner!Reader) → Vox tries to figure out why Y/n, his partner of five months, refuses to kiss him.

LUTE

Music (Lute x Reader) → Y/n has been dating Lute for years. After her girlfriend gets home from the most recent extermination, she tries to talk to Lute about the person being around Adam makes her.

ADAM

Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely (Adam x Reader) → Y/n is a nephalem with ambitions and a need for entertainment. Adam is in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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mrs-kmikaelson · 9 months

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Braver Together

(Should've Known Better Part Two)

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x reader, Klaus Mikaelson x reader, Mikaelsons x sister-in-law!reader, Hope Mikaelson x mother-figure!reader Summary: Ever since your heart was broken, you became scared of love altogether, but then the most unexpected thing happens and you realize that there was no point in being alive if you weren't living. So you force yourself to face your fears and start being brave... with some help, of course. Warnings: very long, mentions of cheating, angst (with more fluff tho imo), complicated relationships, death, ofc violence, and i totally bend the tvd-originals timeline Words: 10.6K

Masterlist

a/n is at the end of the post.

When you accepted Klaus’ proposal a thousand years ago, you could’ve never imagined that your life would end up the way it would. For a long time, you were happy, maybe even the happiest girl in the world. It didn’t matter if your family was dead—the Mikaelsons became your family. And for a while, that was fine with you, but now it just felt like torture to be with them every single day.

But you supposed that you signed your life away when you married your husband.

His infractions amazed you, but you still didn’t leave him, even when every bone in your body begged you to. It was the little things, like watching Hope smile as she opened presents on Christmas morning, that made you feel like it was worth it.

You had grown attached to her. While you still weren’t the best of friends with her mother, you remained civil for her. After all, you were both stuck in this family with no way of escaping, so you found it pointless to continue to ignore her.

Klaus, however, was much more deserving of your ignorance, but like Hayley, you pushed that to the side. Your feelings didn’t matter when their child was involved. Even though you weren’t her mother, Hope felt like a daughter to you. Her name was so fitting; she really was this family’s last hope, and she was definitely yours.

Over the years you had, you managed to mend your relationship with Rebekah, even if it was never really the same as it was before. You were no longer running around Chicago together, dancing the night away, but now you had responsibilities to care for and hurt in your hearts. Rebekah had always been a child of sorts, but coming back to this city forced her to grow up. In a way, you supposed you did, too.

Elijah and you were better after that talk you had that one Christmas Eve, not as good as before, but better, and for the time being, that was good enough.

Sometimes, as you were playing with Hope in the living room, your siblings surrounding you, you lied to yourself and pretended you were a family again. But you knew better now. You’d been here before already.

But then something happened, something that almost made that lie feel real.

You walked into the Abattoir with a wide smile on your face, a sight that’d become rare to see. But when you were with Hope, it was impossible for the corners of your lips not to go up. She was giggling at something you said, but, looking back, you couldn’t even remember what it was.

There were shopping bags in your hands. You just took her out to get clothes for her first time at school. You were expecting to see the family seated on the couches, prepared to watch her “runway” her new wardrobe.

Instead, you were met with an apparent crisis. Rebekah sat on the couch, hand cupped over her mouth in shock, tears in her eyes. Hayley stood off to the side, glancing in between Elijah and Klaus, the former staring pointedly at an unknown man whose back was turned to you and the latter with his arms crossed, also staring at said man.

At your entrance, Hayley looked over to you, seeming to let out a breath, as if she was thankful to have a reason to leave the situation. “Mommy, mommy!” Little Hope waved Hayley over, even though she was already walking in your direction. “Me and Auntie Y/N/N bought pretty clothes! Wanna see?”

“Yes, sweetheart, just after your father and Uncle Elijah work this out.” She picked the child up, glancing your way with a sort of warning in her eyes, nodding over to where the rest of the family stood before she looked back to Hope. “For now, why don’t we get you in the bath?”

Hope groaned in protest, making you smile in amusement, but Hayley paid no mind to this, taking her upstairs. Your smile was immediately wiped away. The look the werewolf gave you suggested that something was going on, something she didn’t want Hope to be apart of. The rest of the Mikaelsons hadn’t taken their attention off the man they were staring at for even a second, worrying you.

So, you placed the shopping bags you were holding down next to the gate, walking towards them with your arms held out. “What’s going on?” You asked, but no one turned to answer you. Your brows furrowed. Just as you were about to ask again, the mystery man turned around and it was like the wind was knocked out of you instantly.

Standing right in front of you was no stranger. It was Kol Mikaelson.

For a moment, you almost forgot how to breathe. He gazed at you tenderly with an indecipherable look in his eye. Before you could get to even trying to figure it out, you jumped out of your shock and engulfed him into a tight hug that he quickly reciprocated. Tears leaked out of your eyes for the first time in years.

After a minute, you pulled away, patting his arms and looking him up and down, like you were trying to figure out if he was real. He looked just like Kol, just like your Kol. You pinched yourself, causing the man to let out a small chuckle.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he said, and you were gobsmacked because that was his voice, his voice that you hadn’t heard in years. As you realized this was real, that this was really Kol, you pulled him in for another hug.

Kol was the one to pull away this time, cupping your cheeks with his hands and wiping your tears away. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the right words to use, trying to figure out what you even wanted to say. When he died, you felt like there was so much left unsaid, but now you didn’t know where to start. “How- how are you here?”

He softly smiled at you, so different in comparison to the usual Mikaelson smirk that you were used to. “I’m going to explain everything.”

All of a sudden, you heard a throat clear, reminding you of the others in the room that you’d somehow forgotten about. You looked behind Kol to see Elijah, straightening his cufflinks. “Yes, it appears that we all have a lot to discuss,” he remarked, almost looking uncomfortable. You then glanced to Klaus whose jaw was clenched. Rebekah was still in the same exact position as before, expressionless.

Kol guided you to the couch next to her, telling the brothers they should sit, too. And then he told you all the story of a lifetime.

You listened intently as Kol explained how he was alive. He said he had been on the other side, watching all of you every day. Hearing this made you tense as you wondered what he could’ve possibly seen or heard; you were embarrassed that he might’ve seen how Klaus treated you and how you stayed, but your mind didn’t linger on the subject for long as he continued with his story.

He said the other side started to fall apart, all thanks to the travellers and their sociopathic leader, Markos. You were surprised he was even real; when you came across travellers in the past, you thought they were insane, but it turned out that they actually had real power, enough to bring down a supernatural purgatory that had existed long before even your time.

Kol then said he went back to Mystic Falls after a witch told him that Bonnie Bennett had taken the place of the other side’s anchor. He explained how, following Stefan’s death, the scooby gang engaged in a plan to bring him and their other fallen friends back.

“So I was stuck with my life in the witch’s hands.” He suddenly looked to you. “She refused at first, but when I mentioned you, she eased up and decided to let me through.” For some reason, this information made you freeze. You were stuck staring into Kol’s eyes until he eventually looked away, making you shake your head. “Whatever you said to her, Y/N, may have just saved my life.”

You knew what he was referring to. Long ago, when you were still in Mystic Falls, before Klaus cheated and before Kol died, you gave the Bennett witch some advice you thought she’d find useful. You told her not to let people walk all over her, to start living for herself.

How ironic was that?

It seemed that neither of you had followed this advice, though, because Bonnie was still stuck putting her life on the line for her friends and you still lived with your husband and his family.

Both of you were doing things that’d kill you eventually.

Maybe it already did.

After Kol’s story, you were all worn out, like each of you had lived through it yourselves. Even though you were exhausted, you were still ecstatic that Kol was alive, that your wishes had come true. When Rebekah got over her shock, you could tell she was happy too, and even Elijah had a ghost of a smile of his lips. But Klaus didn’t look as happy as you would’ve thought he’d be.

You didn’t mind this, ignoring it altogether, refusing to let anything ruin your good mood. That night, you went to bed happy in a house full of Mikaelsons.

The next day, when Kol met Hope, the smile that was already on your face got even wider. Oh, they would cause trouble together, you thought. The three of you spent the week together, sometimes including one of your other siblings. And for the first time since you were with that boy, you felt human again.

You could’ve never imagined this turn of events, Kol coming back to life, Klaus’ child being your salvation. But no longer could you imagine any what ifs, any other life for yourself. You didn’t wonder and wonder about what would’ve happened if Elijah let you go, if Klaus never found you. If you got the chance to go back, you didn’t even know if you would’ve done it all differently. That was saying something, but at the moment, it all felt like it was worth it.

There were so many questions you had for Kol, so many qualms you still had with your family, but for that week, you ignored it all. You could only focus on the influx of pure happiness you felt. You started living like you weren’t a thousand-year-old Original whose heart was broken and like you were gonna die the very next day.

And it was liberating.

But you knew better than to think you could live in paradise forever.

You and Kol lied on the grass of some hill he’d driven you to. You were surprised he even still knew his way around the city, but he was always one to surprise you.

You just stared up at the stars together in silence, a comfortable silence that didn’t feel like it was suffocating you. It was just the two of you, no Klaus, no drama, no anyone. It was just you and the stars.

Out of nowhere, Kol broke the silence, his voice just above a whisper. “My brother doesn’t deserve you.”

Your breath hitched, turning your head towards him, but his gaze was still aimed at the sky. Your perfect little moment was suddenly invaded by the thought of your husband who you’d been unknowingly avoiding in conversation with Kol altogether. Maybe he noticed that.

Maybe he noticed the way you and Klaus no longer touched, even though you couldn’t keep your hands off one another the last time he was alive. Maybe he really was watching you from the other side, and that terrified you.

You knew Kol held you on a pedestal, even if neither of you would ever acknowledge that. He thought you were so good, so strong, so it killed you to think that he saw you when you were most vulnerable. It killed you to think that he knew all of his brother’s indiscretions and how you stayed, anyway.

You knew better than that—no, you were better than that.

Kol went on, “He never has-”

This time, you cut him off, the shock wearing off. “Kol-”

“No, Y/N.” He finally stopped staring up at the stars, turning to look at you. You were expecting the disappointment, but you weren’t expecting the raw anger in his eyes, an anger that’d never been directed at you. But you know it wasn’t. “You were always too good for that bastard, too good for this entire fucking family.”

You tried to stop him, but he kept going every time you opened your mouth. “Here you are, raising a child that isn’t even yours for his sake. Even after what he did to you, what he kept doing to you, you stayed—because that is just how loyal you are and how loyal he isn’t.” He started laughing, but there was no trace of humour in it. “You have no idea how much I want to sock him every time I see him.”

“Kol-”

“You know there’s nothing you can say to make this better, Y/N.” That shut you up. “I’m not going to let you spin this just to spare my brother the trouble.” Oh, how embarrassed you felt. Klaus cheated on you over and over again, yet you still felt the need to defend him.

Things were okay with Elijah and Rebekah because, even though they were there, they weren’t really there. They didn’t know how bad things were between you and Klaus, how it ate you alive, not even Rebekah who watched you break down and isolate yourself. But Kol- oh, Kol saw it all.

You swallowed, looking back up to the sky. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Never had you been turned so fast. When your eyes met Kol’s, they were fierce, but his voice softened. “Don’t ever apologize for him. Never again, not to me- not to anyone.”

You swallowed a second time, losing your words as you just stared into his eyes. You hadn’t seen him in so long; you forgot how well he knew you, how he was able to read you like a child’s book.

But Kol had gotten more complicated to you. Whenever you were around him, there was a new look that’d surface in his eyes. This look was like a passerby that you didn’t know but had seen before, a friend of a friend. This was a look you could not decipher, and currently, he was giving you that exact look.

For a long while, the two of you just looked at each other as if you were the stars you’d came all this way to see. The only things heard were crickets and the cars from the city until Kol’s voice sounded.

“I should’ve never let him do this to you,” he said. And you didn’t know what that meant.

But it didn’t matter.

Because, seconds later, you both got up and drove away.

This night hadn’t dampened your mood. There were so many things to be happy for. Years ago or even a week ago, you were depressed beyond words, but Kol coming back had filled a hole you’d thought would never go away. So even though this conversation stung, you were still okay.

When you got back to the compound, you both pretended he never said what he said. Kol went back to being his playful self, making jokes, and you went back to laughing at them.

It was like you’d been given a miracle. You never thought you’d feel like yourself again, and you didn’t really, but it was so close, as close as you’d been in a long time.

You didn’t feel so alone anymore.

Every day started being spent with either Kol, Marcel, Hope, or sometimes even Rebekah. Life was as normal as it had ever been, as sunny as you’d ever seen the world—at least as sunny as your life has been in decades.

Until it started to rain.

You were in the kitchen of the Abattoir, looking through the cupboards to see what you could make. While none of you had to actually eat, Hope did, and so it’d become a staple in the Mikaelson house to have dinner every night. These dinners stopped being so awkward after a while.

Hayley and Eijah were at some werewolf meeting, Rebekah had taken Hope to buy school supplies, Kol was roaming around, and you suspected Klaus was out causing some sort of mayhem. You assumed you were alone in the house, but you were proven wrong.

Footsteps sounded behind you; you sensed him before you even turned around. Even though Klaus and you had gotten to a point of pleasantness, that didn’t mean you enjoyed being alone with him.

A few years of pleasantness couldn’t erase the thousand years you’d spent together.

“Love,” he greeted, pulling out a barstool and sitting down, the kitchen island separating you. You lightly inhaled, turning to nod to him in acknowledgement.

You kept rummaging through the kitchen, trying your best to ignore your husband’s presence. Oh, Klaus hadn’t felt like your husband in so long, but what else could he possibly be to you?

You were trying so hard to be friends with him, but could you really be friends with the man you were in love with for a millennium? With the man who had hurt you more than anyone else ever had? You didn’t have an answer to that.

The two of you sat in silence. There was a point in time where silence between you both felt like a warm blanket, comfortable and safe, but now it felt ominous, like the calm before a storm. With Klaus, there was always a storm.

Just as you placed your final ingredients on the counter, he caught you off guard and asked, “What are you doing with my brother?” You quickly spun around, widening your eyes and narrowing them in the same sequence. This was a question, but it felt much more like a challenge.

Klaus was impassive, but you knew better than to actually believe that. However, you mirrored his expression, anyway. “What do you mean?” you quizzed. You tried to keep your voice devoid of emotion, but you couldn’t help the bite of annoyance that seeped through.

He clearly noticed this if the tick in his jaw was of any indication. “You and Kol, Y/N.” Your brows furrowed at his vague explanation, causing his eyes to roll. “Come on, don’t act as if you’re surprised. You had to have known that I’d ask eventually. You’re my wife.”

He stared firmly into your eyes. No, I’m not your wife, you wanted to scream, but you bit your tongue. You hoped that your gaze said it for you, anyway. Instead, you scoffed, “No, Klaus, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to say something, but you cut him off. “I’m not sure what insinuation you’re trying to make, but you need to cool it.”

You were fed up, and you could feel an argument on its way. Klaus and you hadn’t argued in a long time, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have things you wanted to say to him. You held your comments in for Hope’s sake, but if he wanted to poke the bear, then you’d make sure that the bear poked back.

This time, he scoffed, his calm façade falling apart as he snarked, “Oh, please, you can’t possibly be so naive.”

“There is nothing to be naive about, Klaus—there’s nothing going on between your brother and me.” And if there was, it wouldn’t be your business, you wanted to add, but you weren’t gonna add more fuel to the fire. You didn’t even know why your mind went there in the first place.

“Perhaps that’s what you think, Y/N, but I’ve seen the way my brother looks at you-”

“He doesn’t look at me in any way.”

“Yes, he does- and you’re fooling yourself if you think he doesn’t.”

There was a door in your mind that Klaus had opened with these remarks, a door you’d been scared to even go near. But you closed it right away, refusing to wonder about it. He was wrong. There was nothing going on between you and Kol.

Your eyes hardened and you snapped, “I don’t have the time nor do I have the patience to deal with another one of your paranoid episodes.” He scoffed again, but you paid it no mind. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have dinner to make.” You turned around, not caring to see Klaus’ expression. You heard the barstool screech against the floor and then his angry footsteps as he left the kitchen.

And just like that, that opened door was slammed shut.

You tried your hardest to ignore Klaus’ words, telling yourself it wasn’t true, that there was no way it could possibly be true, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You and Kol had always been close, but there was nothing that wasn’t platonic there.

Or maybe you were wrong.

You had given up on love so long ago. You gave your lover your heart without a second thought and he threw it to the ground like it was nothing, like it wouldn’t shatter everywhere, like it was possible for you to ever recover from that. And then when you try and find happiness, he rips that away from you, too.

Klaus had blown out any spark you had, leaving you alone in the dark.

Was love worth it if felt like this?

You didn’t know. These weren’t questions you asked yourself when you said “I do.” You didn’t know what to do anymore.

So you did what you always did, stuffing your feelings away and acting like nothing was wrong. But something changed. Whenever you saw Kol after that, you felt something—something you couldn’t explain, something you couldn’t name. It was like you had felt this before, but just never noticed it.

This feeling lurked in the background for a while until it was pulled back to the forefront of your mind when you least expected it.

“Bloody hell,” you muttered, storming into the compound with Kol following soon after. Your language was partly ironic because bloody you were. Of course, not your blood, but you hadn’t been in this state in at least a century.

Safe to say, you didn’t miss it.

You had just killed a horde of witches. They were good opponents, strong, but nobody was ever really smart if they decided to go up against the Mikaelsons. Nothing was stronger than family, even if it didn’t always feel that way.

They wanted to go after Hope, but you would never let that happen—none of you would. So you killed them- slaughtered may have even been a better word to use. Some of them had their hearts taken, their limbs ripped apart, stakes stabbed into their chests; your family could get creative.

Elijah, Hayley, and Klaus were dealing with the mess while Rebekah was tending to Hope. They didn’t need anymore man-power, so Elijah told you both to go home and clean yourselves up. He didn’t have to tell you twice.

“Seems that this family can never escape a bloodbath,” he joked.

“Ugh, disgusting. I need a real bath.” You spun around, a dramatic look on your face. Kol chuckled. He was more at ease than you were; he got a meal out of it, but you preferred quick kills, so now you were just annoyed.

“If you weren’t my brother’s wife, I’d join you.” His tone was light and playful, teasing even, but there was a glint in his eye that made you think he wasn’t completely joking. Your mind went back to what Klaus said to you, about the way Kol looked at you, then you thought about everything he did to you, how he just discarded your vows like they were meaningless.

Maybe, if you hadn’t just come from a fight, you would’ve laughed it off, but you were tired of thinking about what Klaus wanted.

You shrugged. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been his wife for a long time now.” You maintained eye contact with Kol as he paused. The playful atmosphere disappeared and was replaced with tension.

A beat passed before he slowly responded, “Y/N, what are you trying to say?”

What were you trying to say? You didn’t know if you could put it into words. So you stepped forward, hearing his breath catch in his throat, putting a hand on his bicep. “I think you know what I’m trying to say.”

Another beat. And then the next thing you knew, Kol’s lips slammed onto yours. You were sped upstairs, immediately ripping his shirt off and letting it fall to the floor. Yours came off somewhere in the mix. You could taste the leftover blood on his lips, not enough to satisfy you, but just enough to leave you wanting more.

You didn’t know what you were doing, but it felt good. You never thought you’d feel anything remotely like this ever again, but now that you had it, who knew if you could ever let it go?

Kissing Kol was like drugs. Ecstasy raced through your veins. You didn’t know if you had ever felt anything like this before; if you had, then how was it possible that you let it slip through your fingers? No, this was unlike any experience you’d ever had.

He suddenly pulled away, heaving. You reached to pull him back in, but he stopped you, breathing, “Are you sure that you want this?”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes- you have no idea how badly.” This clearly sufficed because he was back to kissing you the second you stopped talking, hands going to unclasp your bra.

Oh, at that moment, you couldn’t give a damn what Klaus thought.

And Kol made sure you didn’t think about Klaus for the rest of that night.

Kol made it feel like your first time all over again, like everything you felt was new and foreign to you, but by the time you were done, your body was anything but foreign to him.

After multiple rounds and showering, you laid in your bed tired. You couldn’t remember the last time someone else laid with you. Part of you thought that, for some reason, Kol would leave, but he stayed right next to you, holding you in his arms.

You only had sex, but this felt like so much more than that.

The only thing that could be heard in your room was the sound of your breathing. You didn’t want to say anything, to talk about it and be reminded that you were married. You just wanted to bask in this moment.

You don’t know how long you’d been lying in silence before Kol whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You turned your head toward him, but like that night on the hill, he kept his vision directed to the ceiling as if he was afraid what he’d see if he directed it to you. He hesitated. “I think I’ve felt something for you for years, centuries. Maybe- maybe I always have.”

Your heart nearly stopped. Not just because he was confessing to having feelings for you, but because maybe you did, too. But this was more than a confession.

Your response to this could determine your future, if there was any, with Kol.

The rational part of your brain argued that this could never work, that Klaus would never let it happen, that this would only end in tragedy. You wanted to stop this before it became something more, but that other part of yourself, the part ruled by her heart, told you that it was too late for that. This was already something more.

You couldn’t let this go, not even if you wanted to.

You cupped his cheek, turning him to you. When his eyes met yours, you saw an emotion that Kol rarely ever showed, and that was fear. You wondered if he could see that you were scared, too.

You looked into his eyes for what felt like forever but was really only a minute. And then you decided that what you were feeling was more powerful than words, so you didn’t say anything at all, leaning in to kiss him. It wasn’t as fervent as before, now tender and soft but still with purpose. You weren’t too sure of what’d happen after this, once you woke up from this dream and got back to reality, but as you kissed him, it didn’t matter.

You were together.

And for now, that was more than enough.

When you woke up, Kol was still there, right next to you. You could’ve stayed in bed together all day, but you weren’t normal people. You belonged to the least normal family and led the least normal lives. So you got up, reluctantly, and he went back to his room before anyone could find him in yours.

Then you walked downstairs, ate breakfast, and dealt with the effects of the your most recent problem. You were at Rousseau’s, about to meet with Marcel, when you were pulled into the bathroom, Kol’s lips immediately meeting yours.

The feeling of his lips soon became so familiar to you.

You wanted to be normal so badly, but you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t. So this became your new normal instead: stolen moments and glances, being together when no one else was around.

Slowly, that feeling you had whenever you were around him was given a name. You don’t know if it was love, if it could even be that yet—but it felt dangerous, and exciting, and warm all at once. You felt it whenever you kissed him, whenever you looked into his dark brown eyes, and whenever he smiled.

You were falling for Kol Mikaelson.

You constantly berated yourself, even though it felt so good. This was like alcohol, and drugs, and every other vice out there: it was temporary. The Original Hybrid was your husband—this was his brother. He wouldn’t let this happen.

This was wrong.

But it felt so right.

You had rejected every possible opportunity of happiness for years. Couldn’t you just have this one thing? Couldn’t you just let yourself be happy?

Oh, Kol made you happy. He brought out a part of you that you thought was gonna be gone forever. He made you feel like yourself again, like you were alive, like you had something to live for.

You had been living in black and white for so long that you forgot what it was like to live in colour.

Music filled the Mikaelson living room, music that the rest of the world would perhaps call old but never got old to you. Kol held you close to him, rocking you to the rhythm while your head rested on his chest. You were both very well versed in classical dances, but you didn’t need a big fancy dance for this to feel the way it did: special.

There was something going on—there always was—but, at that moment, that something didn’t exist. At that moment, it was just the two of you.

A small smile came to your lips. “You know, you weren’t even actually alive when this song came out.”

You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled. “Yeah, and I’m glad. This song is terrible.”

You gasped, pulling away and hitting his arm. “Kol Mikaelson! Don’t you dare speak about Celine Dion that way.”

He laughed again, easily pulling you back to him and kissing the crown of your head. You tried pouting, but it felt impossible to do anything other than smile. “Don’t worry, darling. You like it, so I like it.” Your smile got wider, pulling back again but this time it was to kiss him.

You found that, when you kissed Kol, it wasn’t always so hot and heavy. It didn’t always lead to making out or making love. Sometimes, you just kissed because it felt good. It was soft, and gentle, and reassuring, and it felt good.

Maybe, if you were being honest with yourself, it felt better than anything else.

You pulled away after a few seconds, taking the time to stare into his eyes. You did it all the time and yet, every single time you did, it felt like the first time all over again. You could stare into his brown orbs all day long if you could. However, your lives didn’t allow for that.

But that just made little moments like these all the more special.

After a few seconds, he directed your attention away from his eyes, mumbling under his breath, “The song’s still shit, though.”

“Oh, shut up,” you scolded, but your head still made its way back to his chest, anyways.

Everyone else was back at the benefit. You were there, too, until you both decided to sneak away and go back home. That was cutting it close, definitely, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You didn’t get to go on dates or hold hands in public, so you were gonna grab these moments while you still could.

You knew that what you were doing was just prolonging an eventual- no, an inevitable outcome, but after everything you went through, you learned a few lessons. All good things came to an end—everything had to end at some point. Your marriage sure did, but that didn’t mean that you’d go back and change a thing. Yes, things with Klaus ended badly, but he gave you a thousand good years first.

So if what you were doing with Kol ended, then at least you had this. At least you had dances in the living room, and stargazing, and soft kisses.

Maybe this story wouldn’t have a happy ending.

But as long as you got a happy middle, then you were okay with that.

And he did everything he could to give you just that.

It felt… different, to be with someone other than Niklaus, but it was a good different. It felt good to smile and to actually mean it. And it made you wish for something more, to be more than just two people engaging in a forbidden love affair, but that’s what this was, wasn’t it?

But Kol made it feel like it really was more than that. He made you feel like a diamond, like you were beautiful, like everything that had weighed down on you only made you that much stronger.

This was more. This was so much more than you could’ve ever hoped for.

You were lying in bed together late at night when it happened. You weren’t expecting it- you weren’t sure if you ever expected it. But Kol was always one to do the unexpected, surprise you and keep you on the edge of your seat.

Yet, when he spoke, he didn’t sound so dauntless. He sounded small and afraid, but at the same time, you could hear the hope in his voice. Hope, courage, bravery—at the end of the day, it was just called Kol.

He was always brave enough for the both of you.

“I love you.”

Your breath hitched, turning to see that he was already staring at you. The déjà vu hit you hard. Here you were, in the same position you’d already been in with him, but this time, he looked right at you.

Brave enough for the both of you.

You didn’t say anything. You wondered if you were dreaming, hallucinating, imagining things, if this was some cruel trick of the mind. But, the longer you stared and the longer he stared right back at you, the more convinced you became.

This was real.

You wrapped your arm around his neck, pulling him in and connecting his lips with yours. Butterflies still erupted in your stomach, even though you had been at this for a while. You put your everything into this kiss, but Kol deserved more than everything.

This scared you, but Kol had given you so much. He didn’t need to be the brave one all the time.

You wanted to be brave, too.

So when you finally pulled away, resting your forehead on his, eyes closed, you whispered back, “I love you.”

You and Kol were brave together, braver together. Yeah, there were dragons out there so much more powerful than you, but you could slay them together. Maybe it would’ve been safer to just stay away, to just tuck yourself away in a castle and avoid the dragons altogether, but what was the point in that?

What was the point of being alive if you weren’t truly living?

And you were living.

Everyone around you could see it. Your change in behaviour was unusual, but it lifted everyone’s spirits. You were starting to be able to actually hold a conversation with Rebekah, and you were starting to be able to talk to Elijah about things other than the family’s latest conflicts. You were even starting to be a little more friendly with Hayley.

You didn’t tell her, but a part of you was thankful for what she did. She knew who you were when she met Klaus; she knew he was married, and she still slept with him. This had previously enraged you, but now you couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Had she not done what she did, you may have never had this with Kol.

And Hope would’ve never been born.

Oh, you would do anything for her. This family may have been cursed, but you were all willing to do whatever it took to break the cycle. No more running, no more instability. No matter how dysfunctional you all were, you would give her that.

She was never alone. When her parents weren’t there to bring her or pick her up from school, you were. And if you weren’t, then Kol was, or Rebekah, or Elijah, or Marcel. The odds were against you from the start, but you were all there to flip them.

For her.

You were always happy with Hope, but even she could tell that something had changed. She was a child, but she was bright, and she knew you were happier.

The relationships in your life blossomed. Klaus was the only person that this didn’t happen with.

You loved Kol—you were in love with Kol, but loving him didn’t skew your memory. Klaus and you had a long history. You still couldn’t look at him without picturing it.

It was easier to be more forgiving of Hayley. She wasn’t the one who vowed to be faithful to you, nor was she the one to cheat on you three times or give up on your marriage. He was. You couldn’t see yourself letting go of that. Maybe one day, but being around him wouldn’t speed up that process.

Klaus was actually the last person on your mind.

But that didn’t seem to be the case for him.

You were on your way out of the compound when something caught your eye. You stopped, turning to see your husband by himself in an empty hallway. It appeared that something had caught his eye, too.

He was so focused that he didn’t even see you. You could’ve pretended not to see him, walked away and gone on with your business, but you knew what he was looking at. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t look at it every once in a while, too.

Yes, you could’ve walked away, but the easy thing was never easy for you to do.

So you walked up to him, leaving a foot between you and looking at what had captured his attention. It was a portrait, and a familiar one at that.

The truth was, you’d studied that portrait until it was engraved into your memory. Even when you weren’t looking at it, it still came and found you in your dreams and even when you were just sitting around and thinking.

It was you. It was you, and Klaus, and Rebekah, and Elijah, and Kol. Before he died, before Hayley, before this godforsaken city. It was when things were calm, when you still had some sort of semblance of family. Or at least that’s what it was supposed to be.

Because it wasn’t real.

You never got together for this portrait. This time didn’t exist. It was fake. Niklaus was such a wonderful artist that he almost made you believe it, but it wasn’t real. He could paint you all so realistically, make you look so happy, but when was the last time you were all happy as a family? It was never in these clothes, never in this age.

But he made it look real.

He made it look like you were all picture-perfect, like his brother didn’t bring you to your end, like Rebekah never lost her mind, like Kol was never murdered, like you were never out crying in the rain for a man who would never change, like he was a man who could change.

Who knew that such a happy picture could evoke such sadness. Because this portrait wasn’t what was— it was what could’ve been.

Klaus broke the silence with a voice you would’ve never heard without enhanced hearing. “I really did love you.” Neither of you turned to face the other. “I really do love you.”

Not too long ago, you would’ve started crying. And while tears did build in your eyes, you smiled first. You didn’t doubt that. It didn’t take you long to respond, “So did I.”

1996, when you left, when you came back, when he cheated again, when you found out he was having a baby, when he killed Leo, when you stayed, when you took Hope. All of this flashed before your eyes, but it wasn’t all you saw. You also saw your wedding, your first time, when he painted you as you slept, when you got drunk together, when he cooked for you, when you kissed on the beach at night all by yourselves. You saw how happy he made you and how easily he just took it away from you.

You would never forget these things, none of it. You would never forget the bad, but you would never forget the good, either.

He lightly chuckled as if he was remembering all the same things as you. And then, for a while, you both just stood there, staring at the painting. There was a time when you could practically read his mind, but now you had no idea what he was thinking.

You were different people now. You weren’t the same people who went through the good, nor were you the same people who went through the bad. You weren’t the same people you could’ve been in that picture, either.

And he knew that, too.

“I’m never going to be your husband again, am I?” He mused, but this wasn’t a question. You both already knew the answer, even if you hadn’t said it out loud to each other.

“No.” You shook your head, opting to look down at your boots. “No, you’re not.”

Maybe you were imagining it, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw him wipe at his eye. Suddenly, a part of you felt bad, but not for him. You felt bad for the boy you fell in love with, the boy who gave you humanity even when he had lost his own. And you felt bad for the girl who kissed him at the altar.

So, against your current feelings, you turned and swiftly wrapped your arms around him, hoping that you weren’t just hugging Klaus, but that you were hugging the boy you married all those years ago. He quickly hugged you back, holding you tightly, but his grip slowly lessened.

Like he was getting ready to let you go.

You don’t know how long you were in his arms, but eventually he pulled away. You could finally see his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and how they were filled with tears despite the smile on his face. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. You had both said everything you needed to say; there were no more chapters to write in this book of yours.

It was time for your story to end.

You let go of each other and you turned around, walking away without sparing that painting another glance. You were just at the edge of the hallway when he called your name, making you turn your head.

“Be happy with him,” he said, even though it looked like it annihilated him to say it.

But you didn’t question it. You just nodded, then you turned around and walked away. You didn’t need to ask him who he was referring to or have him explain any further. You understood perfectly.

You would.

You were gonna be happy with him.

And just like that, the Original Hybrid and the Mikaelson Wife were done.

But who knew? You could very well become a Mikaelson once again if Kol got his way. You wouldn’t admit, just as to not inflate his ego, but deep down, you wanted him to get his way.

Slowly, the suspicions your other siblings had became confirmed. You weren’t overly affectionate in public, but they were able to put two and two together. Rebekah had been in love so many times that she was able to see it clearly on you, and Elijah was always the scholar amongst you, the smart one. Marcel saw it from a mile away. While he and Kol hadn’t always gotten along well, they were both willing to put that aside for you.

Even a child could see that you were in love; Hope did.

“Aunt Y/N/N, do you and Uncle Kol love each other like Belle and the Beast?”

You both simultaneously turned to her, along with everyone else in the living room. It was movie night; Beauty and the Beast had just finished, and Hope had asked you that question as soon as the credits were rolling.

She was just a kid who was curious. She didn’t know the potential outrage her question could cause.

But you weren’t gonna lie to her. You weren’t gonna deny what was possibly the best thing you ever had, even as your entire family was in the room.

“Hope-” Hayley had started to scold, but you cut her off.

“Hayley, it’s alright.” She didn’t look convinced and still looked embarrassed, but you turned back to Hope with a smile on your face. “Yes, sweetheart, Uncle Kol and I do love each other.”

She now looked confused, like your reply hadn’t cleared anything up at all. “But my daddy looks at you the way Uncle Kol looks at you.” You opened your mouth, but you didn’t know what to say. “Does daddy love you, too?”

It appeared that none of you had the answer to her question. How were you meant to explain your situation to a child, that you and her father had loved one another for a thousand years and then your relationship ended because he slept with her mother?

What you were least expecting happened. Instead of having an outburst, Klaus beckoned Hope over, petting her hair once she was sat on his lap. “Ah, my littlest wolf,” he sighed, but the corners of his lips were upturned. His eyes were slightly glazed over as if he wasn’t really there, but that look quickly disappeared. For Hope, he’d be present. “I wish that love was as simple to understand as Belle and the Beast, but it is much more complicated than that. Your Aunt Y/N has been there for me many times, and for that, I will always love her,” he professed. His eyes found yours for a moment, but he quickly looked back to his daughter. “But we love each other differently from how her and Uncle Kol love each other. We love each other as family, not as people in love with one another. But no matter what any of us feel for each other in this family, Hope, we will all always love you.”

Hope slung her arms around her father’s neck. “I love you, too, daddy.”

“Always and forever, little one.”

While Hope’s back was turned, your eyes met again and the corners of your lips quirked up slightly. You knew that must’ve been hard for him to say, so you mouthed, thank you.

He smiled back at you. Even though it was so obviously fake, you still appreciated it. He nodded in response.

Yes, you and Klaus had been through a lot. You all had complicated relationships with one another, Kol and you included, but you were gonna push that aside for Hope. Every time.

One day, you would explain it all to her, how Marcel was her brother but your son, why Rebekah was so soft and hard at the same time, why Elijah was so protective, why her parents weren’t together, how you fell in and out of love with her father, why you were still here, how you fell in love with Kol.

But for now, you were gonna let her hold onto her innocence for as long as she could.

Hope still had questions, but she also had all of you to distract her from all of the problems you dealt with. However, you were no longer consumed by all these problems. You had someone to distract you, too, and that was Kol.

Whether you were in bed together, kissing, or just holding hands, he always took your mind off your troubles. He was like a wizard, transporting you from reality and bringing you to cloud nine every day. The problems, the threats, the drama—none of it mattered to you. To you, being with Kol was enough.

If you could just have this for the rest of your life, then you’d be happy, and that is exactly what he wanted to give you.

Time passed in a blur. It was a true what they said, that time flied when you were having fun. Before you knew it, a year had passed since Kol first kissed you, since you started this. A perfect year, calm with minimal conflict both in the Quarter and in the Abattoir.

You could’ve passed many more years this way happily, but you were always one to accept less than what you were worth. Kol knew that, and he wanted more for you- more for both of you.

He wanted to do more than just take you to dreams away from reality.

He wanted to make those dreams come true.

“Kol, what are you doing?” You giggled, stumbling a little but never falling. Kol would never let you fall.

He hushed you, “Shhh, we’re almost there.”

A blindfold was over your eyes as he guided you around. You got into the car together hours ago, and when you woke up, the blindfold was on. He said he had a surprise for you.

This was so cheesy, but you were a sucker for these kinds of things. You never thought you’d get to a place like this again, that you’d be a hopeless romantic or even just a romantic ever again after what Klaus did to you, but Kol made you believe in romance again.

He put your heart back together after you thought it’d been broken beyond repair.

Finally, after more stumbling and laughing, he stopped, holding you in place. “Okay, are you ready?” You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the excitement in his voice. You nodded. “Alright. Three, two, one-”

The blindfold fell to the ground and the sight he’d been withholding was revealed to you. Your brows furrowed. You were in a living room with beautiful floors and beautiful decor, a fireplace parallel to the big couch behind you. You looked around and saw incredible artwork hanging on the walls and gorgeous windows that let the moonlight in.

It was beautiful and all, but did you drive all this way to break into someone’s house?

You voiced your confusion. “Kol, what is this place?” You turned around to see him trying to hold back a smile, a twinkle in his eyes. He looked like a kid about to tell you that he saw Santa. That thought made you laugh. “C’mon, Kol, really. Where are we right now?”

“Well, geographically, we’re in North Carolina.” His explanation produced a gasp from you, making him laugh. He was having way too much fun having you in the dark.

“North Carolina?” you echoed. Your jaw was practically on the floor. “We’re in North Carolina? You’re kidding- that’s like ten hours away-”

“Thirteen, darling.” This didn’t get rid of your disbelief, though you doubt that was what Kol was aiming for, anyway. He shrugged, adding, “Well, I actually got it down to twelve, but that’s besides the point.”

“Trust me, the shocker for me is not your reckless driving-”

He cut you off by speeding to you, lifting up your chin so you were looking right into his eyes. Funny, how he was still able to make you speechless. “I’m going to ignore that jab at my impeccable driving skills because I love you.”

You snorted, “Sure, if impeccable means shit.”

He hushed you again, causing you to roll your eyes. “Back to your question,” he said, making you remember the topic of conversation. You wondered if he had any idea how easily he was able to make you forget about anything—about everything. “I drove us here because North Carolina is relatively… quiet.”

You raised a brow. “Quiet?”

“Yes.” He gently grabbed your hands, holding them in his. Sometimes, he did this absentmindedly, but you were never bothered. You were far from bothered. “Louisiana is perhaps the heart of the supernatural. New York and any other state with a thriving night life also has a thriving vampire population, and they’re busy enough with humans as it is. The big states always are. But North Carolina… North Carolina isn’t on any vampire’s bucket list.”

You drawled, “Okayyyyyy… but why are we here?” What he was saying made sense, but you didn’t get how it related to either of you.

He just smiled, so clearly amused by your confusion. “You amaze me, Y/N, truly,” he proclaimed, that same shit-eating grin on his face that you’d grown accustomed to. “Only you would take so long to get the hint.”

That was obviously a hint, too, but you weren’t catching it. Kol shook his head, getting that look in his eye that he got when he was remembering something. “You told me once that, if we weren’t who we were, you’d want to live somewhere without ruckus, like a normal person. But you knew that couldn’t happen with my brother’s aspirations.” Now he looked at you pointedly and, all of a sudden, a wave of realization washed over you.

Your eyes darted all over the house. There was a reason why you were so in love with it. You looked back to Kol, mouth agape. He continued, “You wanted a house that wasn’t just decadent, but a home.”

Tears welled in your eyes as your hand flew up to cup your mouth in shock. You could remember telling him that, but it was so long ago. You’d long since abandoned the idea, but here he was, offering it up to you. “You- you remember that?”

He leaned in to wipe a tear that you didn’t even notice had fell, caressing your cheek. “I remember every moment I’ve ever spent with you, Y/N.” His actions were pointless because his words caused even more tears to fall.

You had never felt such an overwhelming feeling, so in love, so loved. Your heart’s immediate instinct was to kiss him, to say yes, but your mind… you’d been through enough to know better.

“How are we going to-” you stammered, “we can’t- we can’t just move away.”

“Y/N-”

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, but-” your voice cracked. “we can’t just pick up and leave, Kol—you know that.”

He was now cupping both of your cheeks, staring so deeply into your eyes that you were sure he could see the parts of yourself that you’d tucked away. “Do you remember when I left Mystic Falls?” Of course, you did. How could you ever forget? “I asked you to come with me and you didn’t. Why was that?”

You didn’t want to answer, to relive this after you’d already agonized over it for so long, but you did, anyway. “Klaus. I didn’t go because of Klaus.”

“Exactly. You didn’t go because of that bastard, and you don’t want this now for the same reason.”

“Kol-”

He stepped closer when you thought he’d already closed all the space between you. His voice was soft and firm all at once. “I died thinking I’d never get the chance to tell you how I felt. I wasted so much time, worrying, unhappy.” He shook his head. “Well, I don’t want to worry anymore. I don’t want to waste any more time.” More tears fell, from both of you. “You make me happy, Y/N. I just want to be happy with you.”

A teary laugh escaped your lips. He made you happy, too, so much happier than you’d been in so long, so much happier than you even thought was possible after everything you’d been through. And he was right. Klaus was the one thing holding you back, but why should he get to do that?

You’ve given away years of your life for other people. Couldn’t you be selfish, just this once, and have this one thing for yourself?

You just wanted to be happy.

So you pulled him in and kissed him until you had to pull away for air, and when you did, you whispered, “Yes.”

And that may have just been the best decision you had ever made.

When you eventually drove back to New Orleans days later, you explained the situation to Klaus. He wasn’t jumping up and down with joy, but he surprisingly took it better than you expected.

You spent a thousand years with that man; saying goodbye wasn’t as easy as it seemed, but it needed to happen. It was time for you to go your separate ways. And even after everything he put you through, you still hoped that he could maybe find happiness one day, too.

Niklaus Mikaelson was your epic love, but you knew without a doubt that Kol was your true love. He was the warmth you’d been yearning for, and you were gonna let yourself have that.

North Carolina was the perfect place for you to settle down. It was quiet, like Kol said, with little to no supernatural population. It was also close enough to Louisiana that you could distance yourself from all the crazy but still get there if they needed you.

That’s what you told Elijah when you said your goodbye to him, that you were just a phone call away. He was gonna be the one running the show now, as always. He was always the responsible one amongst you, and you hoped that he’d let go of that and let himself live a little, too. As much as you didn’t like her, maybe he could get with Hayley one day or even find his own person.

You had hope that all of your family could one day be free of this Mikaelson curse, that they wouldn’t be bearing the hybrid’s sins for the rest of their lives. Rebekah was getting there. She was still growing up a little, and she all the time in the world to do that.

It was hard saying goodbye to Hope, but you just reassured her that this wasn’t goodbye. She’d always have a place in your home if she so needed it, and she’d definitely always hold a place in your heart. The only reason you felt okay with leaving her was because you knew she wouldn’t be alone; she had two parents that loved her more than life, a crazy aunt and uncle, and her big brother.

Marcel congratulated you with a wide grin on his face. He was elated for you, telling you that he’d be visiting you, to which you replied that he would always be welcome with you two.

Maybe you were just sentimental, but even saying goodbye to the city itself was hard, nerve-racking. It had given you so much, but taken so much more. You were learning, though, that love wasn’t supposed to drain you. You were learning to let go.

Goodbye, New Orleans, you whispered to yourself as you passed the town sign, and then you were saying hello to North Carolina… and also the new you.

Y/N and Kol Michaels. You got married not too far down the line. Of course, if you wanted to be normal, ditching the medieval last name was best. You supposed you could’ve kept it, but getting rid of it was more symbolic than anything.

You wanted to start over completely, and so that’s what you guys did. You weren’t abandoning your family, but making one of your own, too. Eventually, the idea of kids came up. You wanted nothing more than to raise your own child with the man you were in love with, but you couldn’t conceive a child and you didn’t want to drag one into this life, anyway. It was too dangerous.

The realization that you would never get to have kids broke your heart, but your lover repaired it like his words were glue. The two of you were together, and that was good enough for you.

Doing this, starting over, was scarier than any other situation you had ever been in—and that was saying something, considering how long you’d lived. But with Kol at your side, you were able to be brave.

There was so much to be afraid of. You were scared that this wouldn’t work out, that this was only a happy middle with no happy ending, that you’d feel cold again one day after growing accustomed to the fire, but if all of that happened one day, then you decided that you’d be okay with it. You would be okay with it because at least you lived. You weren’t gonna let your fears stop you from doing that. If you just gave into your fears, then you would’ve never felt this feeling. You would’ve never fallen in love. You would’ve never found yourself again.

You owed it all to your bravery.

And you owed it all to Kol’s.

But together, you were fearless. Together, you were braver.

You were braver together.

Taglist: @honestlycasualarcade @hyperactivewhore @tnrthings @brooklynscherry-z @roselibrary @kollover24 @volturissideslut

a/n: sorry for the long wait, but here is part two! ik i said i was gonna do the thg fanfic first, but that one is long asf so i decided to drop this first. i tried my best to listen to all ur suggestions—unfortunately, i couldn't find a way to write in a pregnancy. but we've got a happy ending! i really, really, really did not want a happy ending, like i had a whole sad ending planned for the part 2 but everyone wanted happiness so i just decided to end it there to avoid to outrage lol. if u want a part 3 where it doesn't end there but ends the way it was supposed to originally, then tell me. and lastly, thank u all so much for all the support!

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motherlvr · 10 months

Note

Hi, can you do a Earth 42!Miles x Earth 42!Spider-Woman!Reader where Reader somehow meets Hobie and they hit it off. Miles sees them one day and gets jealous

tysm for the req!!

wc: 2.8k

pairing: E-42! Miles Morales x Spider-woman! reader

warnings: cursing, argument, friends to lovers, makeout sesh, slightly suggestive

a/n: imagine some comically sized british chap comes in and steals ur girl nahhh

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Your webs were useless against him.

At the moment, you were trying to apprehend a Vulture-like man and prevent him from further harming Brooklyn. As you have been for the past hour. You tried to pin the winged man down using your webs, but he tore right through them like they were made of paper.

What you initially believed going to be light work turned into a much larger problem as you were slammed into the side of a building. The unwelcome guest had an unfair advantage over you. You had to learn that the hard way.

His wing regenerated within only seconds of you ripping it off. It was like you were inside a cartoon.

Your jaw almost dropped to the ground. Hammerspace was real? You had only read about it in comics. "Dude, who even are you?" You shouted in confusion. But whoever he was, he wasn't from your world. That part was evident.

But it seemed like the tides were turning to your benefit.

You heard it before you saw it. You could've sworn guitar riffs rang throughout the air before another unexpected visitor came flying through a portal.

Upon further inspection, you realized it was another Spider-person. How was that possible? You thought you were the only one. But it wasn't the oddest thing you've seen as Spider-woman.

Bashing the winged man on the head with an electric guitar, he temporarily caught the Vulture off guard. Using it to his advantage, he quickly encased the anomaly in a force cage. Dusting off his palms, his lengthy legs strode over to you.

"Hold ya applause." He joked, giving you a small bow and pretending to tip an invisible hat.

His slightly cocky attitude was justified as you almost did applause. He folded the guy you've been fighting for an hour within only a few minutes. With a damn guitar, nonetheless. You almost geeked out, "That was fuckin' sick!" you exclaimed.

"Don't sell yourself short, mate. You did most of the work. My name's Hobie." He introduced himself. And from there, a grand friendship bloomed.

---------

Present-day and a few months have passed since you were practically drafted into the Spider Society. It was like a full-time job, as consumed most of your free time. The spare time that you'd usually spend hanging out with Miles. So needless to say, you were deprived of interactions with anyone that wasn't genetically enhanced by a spider.

Balancing your social life and the fate of the multiverse was much more challenging than Miguel originally let on. But what would he know about social life, anyway?

In the time you've spent at the Spider Society headquarters, you gravitated towards the infamous freedom fighter, Spider-punk. Or as he refers to be called: Hobie Brown.

Ever since he singlehandedly took the Vulture out with a guitar, the two of you just 'clicked'. Better yet, you guys were an unbeatable duo when it came to dealing with anomalies. You were almost inseparable. Just as Miles and you once were. Miguel even assigned Hobie the same missions as you.

One could say Hobie became what Miles once was to you. As you used to confide in Miles, you started to turn to Hobie instead. It wasn't that you were intentionally trying to distance yourself from Miles, but rather due to the convenience that Hobie shared the same issues as you. Rather, in this case, almost the exact same story. Hobie understood you to a Tee.

Miles was aware of your identity as Spider-woman as you were aware of him being the Prowler. But it wasn't always that way. Once upon a time, Miles originally intended to keep his identity as the Prowler a secret from you, but you found out anyway. Call it your spider-sense, if you may.

When someone close to you mysteriously disappears for various periods of time, it starts to hit a little too close to home. Miles trying to keep his identity concealed from you was a routine that wasn’t too different from yours. Him sneaking out at night, returning at ungodly hours with bruises, and lying. It was all too familiar. You eventually figured it out on your own. And when you confronted him about the truth, he confessed it all to you.

When he apologized for keeping such a crucial piece of information a secret, you couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. So you revealed your secret identity to him. The two of you entrusted each other with your greatest secrets. Secrets that could completely ruin one's life if they were spread to the world. It would put massive targets on both of your backs. The two of you had something special: trust. Or at least, used to.

Refocusing back on the present, you were currently out hunting anomalies with Hobie as you have been for the past months.

Today's anomaly was a particularly pesky villain. He had Hobie and you running in circles all around New York. Inevitably, the two of you caught him anyway.

Wiping the sweat off your forehead, you realized how fatigued you were. You were sure Hobie felt the same.

Your life revolved around the Spider Society and what missions needed to be completed. You worked all day and all night to ensure the protection of the multiverse. You didn’t have much time to yourself nor time for anyone outside of the Spider Society.

So, after completing the mission Miguel had assigned the both of you, you convinced Hobie to take a short interlude with you before going off to catch another dimension-destroying villain. Thankfully, he agreed.

Opening a portal to your selected safe space in New York, you guided Hobie outside the Clocktower. You frequented it when you needed a quick retreat from all the responsibilities being Spider-woman came with. But unbeknownst to you, Miles did the same. He was leaning his back against the other side of the Clocktower, unsuspecting of your presence.

Safe to presume, both of you were alike in more ways than just having secret identities as vigilantes.

Miles has been visiting this Clocktower ever since he took up his Uncle's mantle as the Prowler. He came up to this tower to wind down, away from his vigilante duties. His life was turned upside down, but the one thing that remained constant in his life was you. Now was a different story, however. You were slowly fading away from him, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Angling his head up towards the sky, he pondered about your disappearance. What could possibly have you so occupied? Another guy? Just the thought irked him.

You stopped returning his calls, messaging him, and didn't seem to have any free time. He knew being Spider-woman must come with great responsibility, but the excuses you made were piling up. The mutual trust the two of you once shared was slowly becoming a distant memory.

As Hobie and you pulled your masks down, you let out a long exhale of air. Sitting on the ledge of the clocktower with your legs swinging, Hobie made himself at home next to you. He said, "I am absolutely knackered." his English accent becoming more prominent. You cracked a slight smile and teased, "You tired, innit?" He only rolled his eyes at you and said, "You ain't even use innit right, you pillock."

Your uncontrolled laughter could be heard from miles away. It felt good to be able to relax for once. Even if it was only for a few minutes. Dramatically wiping tears from your eyes, you asked in between laughs, "What the hell is a pillock?" Hobie didn't find it nearly as amusing but gave a small chuckle at how comedic you found it.

As your laugh rang throughout the air, Miles' ears almost perked, despite not hearing your voice in months. Suddenly rising from his position, he wondered whether his ears were deceiving him. But as your laughter got louder, he was positive it was you.

Following the familiar sound of your voice, he spotted you sitting on the ledge of the Clocktower, looking as carefree as ever. Your back was facing toward him, and he was dying to just catch a single glimpse of you.

He called out your name with only a hint of hesitation. And when you whipped your head around, it was like a wave of affection hit him all over again. He was seeing you for the first time in months. Even after all that time away, you still made his heartbeat pause.

A silent moment passed as the sun's gleaming rays framed your figure in all the right ways. He only snapped out of his trance when he realized you weren't alone. You were accompanied by a rather conspicuous individual. Another guy.

Narrowing his eyes at the sight of the unknown male, he asked you, "What're you doin' up here, ma?

He wanted to hold a grudge against you for barely speaking to him within the past few months, but that was a less-pressing matter that he'd bring up later.

You disappeared for months. But out of the blue one evening, you return with some unknown guy. Staring at Miles, you looked like a deer caught in headlights. He felt as if he wasn't supposed to be seeing this.

Perhaps Miles was being selfish. But he couldn't bare to see you with another guy. So when he saw you with Hobie, he only assumed the worst.

Not to mention, Miles believed you looked a bit too cozy with the enigma of a male next to you. If he hadn't interrupted the two of you, it seemed to him like you would've snuggled right into the other man's side. Who was he? And why would you choose to spend your time with him rather than Miles? What did he have that Miles lacked? His jealousy was bound to make him snap the longer he saw you in the comforts of a guy that wasn't him.

But what he felt ran deeper than just jealousy. He was envious. He was envious of a man whom he didn't know anything about. Because he was who you chose to spend time with, not Miles. That was how Miles perceived it, anyway.

Your response made him snap back to reality. "Miles? What are you doing here?" Emphasizing the word 'you', you tried to reverse the question onto him. The Clocktower wasn't exactly a designated hang-out area for civilians. Hobie stood up and stretched as he was going to introduce himself to Miles. He held his hand out to help you up and you mindlessly accepted it. Miles' eye twitched seeing your hand in another man's hold.

Hobie and you walked over to Miles, and Miles' envy only grew. He soon realized Hobie was a Spider-person as well. Just as you were. Since when did a Spider-man exist? Miles thought.

Hobie exuded nonchalance as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his spiked jacket. He seemed unbothered by Miles' presence.

Questions plagued Miles' mind as he analyzed Hobie: Were you into guys like him? Is he why you haven't been around lately? How was he so tall?

Miles stared daggers into Hobie's eyes. But Hobie brushed off his glare and said, "What's up, man? Name's Hobie." Miles only nodded his head once at him and said, "I'm Miles." "Yeah, I know." Hobie responded. Miles paused for a second but shook it off as he turned to you. Replying to your previous question of why he was here, he told you, "I come here sometimes. You too, huh?"

Nodding your head, you agreed, "Yeah. To clear my mind, y'know?" With some other guy? Miles almost snipped. Instead, he hummed in response. Enunciating, he asked the question that's been lingering in the back of his mind for months. "Where've you been for the past months, ma? You went ghost." He tried to seem as collected as he could.

Rubbing the back of your head, you tried to come up with some lame response. "Sorry, Miles. I've just been busy lately." Miles couldn't stop his next words from coming out once they started to form.

"Busy doin' what exactly? Him?" He remarked, nodding his head in Hobie's direction. His outburst made your eyes widen in shock. You were aware you didn't look entirely presentable, with maybe a few stray strands of hair, but could you catch a break for once? You had just saved another dimension from deteriorating.

Hobie and you blurted out a response at the same time, "Nah, that's mad." "Absolutely not." But Miles wasn't convinced. The way both Hobie and you appeared utterly exhausted wasn't exactly helping your case.

Sensing the obvious tension in the air and the way you gaped at Miles, Hobie glanced down at you and pointed out, "Hol'up, you fancy the Prowler?" as a slight chuckle escaped his lips. His face was laced with an amused smirk rather than judgment.

"Hobie!" You shot him an agitated look, silently telling him to shut up.

Miles was only wondering how Hobie instantly knew he was the Prowler. He was convinced for a second that Hobie could read minds.

Hobie began to understand Miles' initial hostility and tried to assure him. "Apologies, apologies. I ain't know you lot were together." Hobie said, raising his palms in his defense.

Miles had no intention to correct Hobie, but you hesitated as you said to him, "We're not..." The words faltered on your tongue. Noticing your hesitation, Hobie leaned down to you and whispered in your ear, "Yeah? Does he know that?"

Reading the room, Hobie could tell you needed to speak to Miles in private. It seemed Miles was in the dark about a few key things. So as always, once Hobie is satisfied with the mayhem he has instigated, he leaves the scene. Giving you a two-fingered salute, Hobie tells you, "Alright, I'm off. See you in a bit." throwing you a wink. You mentally cursed him as he strolled away. Once he was out of Miles' sight, he disappeared into a portal back home.

For a brief moment, Miles wondered whether Hobie was his replacement.

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose and turned to Miles. "I'm sorry, Miles. I've just been preoccupied with Spider-woman stuff." You said, not going into further details.

His jealousy almost boiled over. "Cut the shit, ma. If you're busy jeepin' with some guy, just say that." Miles was exasperated as he threw his arms in the air.

In pure disbelief, you tried to tell him. "Miles, you got it twisted. I swear. I didn't mean to shut you out, I've been out on missions. You know how it is." You were no fool. You knew how it must've looked to Miles when he caught you with Hobie after disappearing for months. But you didn't want him thinking you had ditched him just to go fool around with some other guy.

You didn't want your friendship with him to end like this, nor did you want it to end at all. "Hobie's just my partner. We go on missions together. That's all we are." You continued to explain to Miles. While you could understand Miles' viewpoint, the guy you wanted was standing right in front of you.

Miles furrowed his brows at you and inquired, "So you aren't messin' with him?" You immediately replied, "For the last time, absolutely not!"

Miles nodded in approval, "Good. Does that mean you ain't gonna be mad at me if I do this?" He ominously questioned you. Raising an eyebrow, you asked, "Do what?"

His gaze flickered to your lips as he lifted your chin with his hand, swiftly connecting your lips. Your lips slowly move together as ocean waves do. Removing his hold on your face, one hand traveled down to your waist to pull you in. You lifted your arms to wrap them around his neck.

Ever since he saw you again, his urge to press his lips to yours was undying. Those silent months caused plenty of built-up frustrations that he had wholeheartedly planned on taking out on your lips. He missed you. The way you felt against him, your voice, and the sweet aftertaste you left on his lips.

As the moments passed by, the heat you both felt was only getting more intense. He backed you against a wall of the tower, and you wrapped a leg around his waist to pull him in even further. One of his hands supported the leg that you encased around him, tracing circles into your thigh with his thumb.

Parting to catch a breath, you left kisses down Miles' neck. In between each one, you whispered an apology. "I'm really sorry. Promise I'll make it up to you, Miles." After you were done speaking, he only glanced down at you. Whispering back, he told you, "Talk less, ma." as he stole your breath yet again, pressing his lips to yours.

You supposed he was right. The two of you would have plenty of time to talk later, as it was apparent he wasn't letting you go anytime soon.

--------

tysm for reading!

taglist: @l5byrinth @11erinome11 @ulovejayy @laylasbunbunny @whatamidoing89 @kanvis @sophiaj650 @edgyficuselastica @spideys2cute @whatamidoing89 @beabadobee @sxributr @justhereforfunidk

lmk if u want to be added! honestly have no clue why the last few tags aren't working i am so sorry lmao

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales spider man #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #prowler miles #spider man #friends to lovers #prowler!miles x reader #prowler miles morales #prowler x reader

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a-sapphic-love · 3 months

Text

🧴-bodyguard els!

summary: in which the reader's father is a celebrity, so he gets reader a bodyguard for protection! ellie sees through the protests and rebellion, and she knows exactly how to get you to admit what you want.

warnings: MDNI!!!!, bratty!reader, lowkey spoiled!reader, brat tamer! ellie, smuttt, nipple play, degrading, nipple piercing, bodyguard!ellie, bdsm, power dynamics, teasing, lowkey daddy issues!reader, probably more that i forgot to list

the people have spoken! most requested from my last poll💞

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩.✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

"what the fuck do you mean I'm getting a bodyguard!? you can't be serious!" you scream, fuming at your dad for his latest antics. you usually keep your cool, but he's never said anything this stupid before.

a bodyguard? what for?

you're so annoyed he's taking this step, sure he's famous and you're pretty reckless- so what? you're not a small child, you're grown and you can take care of yourself!

your father, on the other hand, seems not to care- like usual. he keeps that same blank stare as you unleash your rage, and once you pause to catch your breath, he excuses himself.

too busy with the next brand deal, or advertisment, or magazine column. soo frustrating!

you can't believe him, buying you some guy to follow you around and make sure you live the dullest, most monotone life possible! this is truly a nightmare!

before the bodyguard even arrives, you're thinking of ways to scare him off. you could completely torment him, maybe bring as many girls home as possible and get touchy. or maybe you could pretend like he hurt you! that would rile your father up!

by the day you finally meet your new incarcerator, you're sure you'll have him gone in less than a month. you know it won't be long before it's back to programming as usual.

except, something unexpected happens. you're introduced to the bodyguard, and instead of some pervy, buff man, you find a woman standing before you.

a very pretty woman.

you didn't plan for this, and it frustrates you even more that you father somehow managed to be one step ahead this time. this woman made you nervous before you even knew her name!

you have to keep your mean façade up, though, so you make sure to say something snarky. "so you're the woman who signed up to act like my babysitter.. how much is he paying you, huh?", you snicker in her face, and she just smiles.

"good money, that's for sure. my name is ellie, what's yours?", she says, walking you into your apartment. you don't even want to look at her, because it gets you all flustered.

you're surprised she doesn't say anything about your silence- she's not trying to control you yet. you're tired of the quiet.

you run into your bedroom, flopping on the bed and groaning in annoyance at the sight of ellie in the doorway. "my room doesn't even have windows- what could even happen?! can I get some space!" you yell out into the doorway, and ellie just nods before walking off. what?

she... listened?

the next few weeks are beyond what you could ever have imagined. ellie doesn't invade your privacy, she barely even bothers you, and she's discreet whenever you both go out.

it starts to annoy you how well the whole bodyguard thing is working out. because it means your father was right about this being a good choice, and you can't stand for your father to be right.

so you get even more reckless. more drinking, more nights out, more ellie having to drag your sloppy drunk self home. even so, you never heard a word of complaint- in fact, she took any chance she could find to get closer with you. it was getting irritating.

but if you couldn't take ellie down, the least you could do is a big fuck-you to your dad. let him know you can never let him win!

the press has had a field day with the relationship between you and your father, and the many rebellious stunts you've pulled before. you've gotten tattoos, some facial piercings and you weren't against most body mods.

however, you'd never done anything really scandalous. nothing like getting a nipple piercing.

you were fairly drunk one night, stumbling home with ellie's arm just barely propping you up, when you passed by your favorite piercing store. you were the most impulsive when you were drunk, and as soon as you saw that shop, you floundered right over.

so many kinds of piercings, but all you wanted was a nipple piercing- and you wanted it bad.

so bad, that ellie couldn't stop you when you got it done. she defeatedly paid before taking you home, but you noticed a glint in her eye.

the next day, ellie sat you down on your bed after your shower, and asked about the piercing. "does it hurt? is it sensitive?" she asked in a careful voice. you wanted to give her attitude soo bad, but not when she acted so caring.

you tried to just brush her off, but eventually she cut to the chase. "listen, you know im here to protect you, right? it's really not safe to... be so impulsive. i know you find me irritating. but please, just let me help you... you can listen this one time?" she says, with such saccharine eyes you couldn't help but melt.

"right! yeah, sure, just... what- what do i need to do?" you asked. she was just being so nice, it made you so flustered....

thats why you listened when she asked if you could let her see the piercings. even though letting her see your bare nipples was... humiliating, warmth was spreading in your underwear as well on your face. shit- you were aroused?!

ellie seemed so kind, gently inspecting the piercing. your nipples had always been sensitive, so they were even worse pierced. just feeling them rub against your shirt made your body tingle.

"there we go, you're going to let me help you clean 'em, right?" ellie said, voice nearly a whisper. you were willing to let her do anything- so you nodded quickly.

ellie used some cotton pads that were wet with saline solution, before just feeling your nipples with her soft fingers. she noticed the blissed out look in your eyes, and that's when she decided to stop. "alright, you're all clean! you did such a a great job, y'know.." she said, in a whispery voice.

you wanted to scream. you wanted to whine, beg for her to keep touching you, but you started to feel bad. she was just trying to help you clean the piercing, wasn't she?

"wait, what's wrong?" ellie says, pausing in the middle of putting the supplies back. "did I hurt you?" she asks, and your brain begins to short-circuit. this much affection from a girl has been previously unheard of, and it just all feels too good... your brain is so fuzzy...

ellie understands when a small whine escapes your lips. "wait... something going on here?'" she says, narrowing her eyes. she has you right where she wants you.

you stumble over your words, trying to make excuses for your flusteredness, but ellie doesn't hear any of it. "what, you really feel that way about your bodyguard?", she leans in and whispers.

you can't deny the attraction you've had to her for a while. anyway, you won't get what you want if you do.

"that- right, I'm sorry, just let me deal with this really quick," you say breathlessly. you can't bear to tell her what you really feel. it's too bad, then, that she has every intention to make you.

"no, don't worry... I can help you. just say it. tell me what you want me to do..." she whispers, before getting up from the bed with a cocky smile you've hardly seen before. you can tell she's waited all too long for this.

"ellie... els, shit, I... need you to help me over here..." you whine, hand resting on your soaking cunt. you just want ellie to fill you up.

luckily, she takes that as enough begging. you don't even realize it when your clothes are gone, or when she has you bent over the bed.

her fingers slip in and out of your sticky folds, lighting your skin on fire. all you can think of is how bad you want her.

her warm tongue abuses your clit, her hands have a bruising grip on your thighs. she has your legs shaking and your head spinning.

"js'sso pretty down here, right sweetness?" she mumbles, giving your ass a light slap before getting up and undressing herself. a thick, 8-inch marbled strap made its way out of her boxers, and you practically drooled.

but you'd taken many straps before, 8 inches wasn't too bad for you. so you got cocky. "what, only 8? you sure you don't have something bigger?" you sneered, and a look flashed in her eyes.

"there she is, the brat is back isn't she?" she chuckled. her hand snaked down your back teasingly, before pressing your back into a deeper arch. you groaned at the pressure, but it wasn't too much.

"you gonna p-put it in already?" you say, voice wavering. ellie looks kind of scary, like she's been waiting for you to say something distasteful.

her hands grip your hips, and you feel the strap slide in. it's definitely got some girth to it, but what's really shocking is how quickly ellie slams it in. so fast, you feel like you can taste her in your mouth.

"come on, where did the attitude go? i thought 8 inches was nothing for you?" she whispers in your ear, sliding in and out at a harsh pace. you can't even speak, body shaking as she fucks you relentlessly.

one of her hands is playing with your nipple, and the other is gently rubbing circles on your clit. "els- ellie, please.." you choke out. she's going so roughly, but you feel like you're about to cum all over yourself.

"you know, you act so insufferable... celebrity's daughter, thinking she can treat people like shit, because what? 'cause her daddy doesn't pay enough attention to 'er?" she says, groaning at how tight you're squeezing the strap.

" 'm so sorry els- shitt, ellie, please..." you whimper, but she just gives your thigh a light smack. "you're sorry, huh?" she mocks, before grabbing your face and kissing all over your lips. "you gonna be good now, right? 'cause bad girls don't get to cum!" she grunts, slamming her hips into yours even harder. your cum is running down your legs, a creamy mess that gets your thighs all sticky and tacky.

"mhm, m'gonna be so good for you els! please, please just let me cum..", you mumble, shoving your face into a pillow because you're just so needy that you put your defenses down.

"good- shit, good fucking girl." she coos, giving your sloppy wet cunt multiple light slaps. "you gonna cum? come on baby, you can do it..."

for a second, everything is misty. your legs shake and go weak, stuffing you even fuller of ellie's thick strap. creamy, sticky squirt sprays all over the bed, while ellie's grip on your hips tightens.

"shit, you- you feel so good..." she mumbles, before nearly collapsing on top of you from the intensity of her own orgasm.

you lay on the bed, out of breath, when suddenly she leans in close from behind you and whispers something.

"round two?"

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chaepink · 3 months

Text

My Kind of Present | sub!gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, praise, use of a vibrator, slight degradation, bondage, ooc gojo kinda, fluffy ending

note: I’m back yall 🫶 also this is Christmas inspired so pretend it’s December again

The noise of your shoes on the stairs throughout the building you're in as you walk upstairs to your and Gojo's shared apartment. After struggling to open the door to the place, you finally enter, a wave of exhaustion hitting you after being out and around the entire day.

However, you notice something odd.

The place is eerily quiet, almost as if no one is home.

You remember the text Gojo sent you an hour or so ago. He had told you to quickly return from your errands for a surprise with a winky face after it and you rolled your eyes when you read it. Though you knew of his rather stupid stunts all the time, you couldn't help but be curious as to what the surprise was this time. Especially if he had only texted you once when he would usually bombard you with multiple text messages, begging you to hurry home.

After hanging up your coat and putting away the groceries, you make your way to the living room where you assume Gojo would be. However, when you get closer and closer to the room, you start to hear a faint whimpering sound coming from within that sounds suspiciously like Gojo. You would know of course.

The bright lights of your Christmas tree slightly blind you as you walk in but that's not what catches your eye. Instead, what catches your eye is what's underneath the tree. Well rather next to it. No, you're not talking about the many presents that you and Gojo bought for each other either, rather it's Gojo himself. There he is on his back, all tied in red ribbon that's wrapped around him in such an intricate way you have no idea how he even managed to do so by himself.

The sight makes the words you were going to say die on your tongue, your mouth agape and dry at the sight. Gojo hears your steps enter the room and his head shoots towards you, excitement in his eyes.

"Surprise [name]!" You rapidly blink to make sure you're seeing it all correctly but it all stays the same. Gojo looks almost like a present with the way he's tied so prettily in the ribbon and you assume that's exactly what he was going for. Except, there was no wrapping paper and Gojo was fully naked except for the ribbon adorning his chest, arms, and legs.

You walk towards him, stopping right in front of him. Confusion is shown on your face while Gojo has a huge dorky grin on his face, clearly pleased with your reaction so far.

"What's.. What's this Gojo?" Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as if the answer isn't obvious. "It's your Christmas present, of course!"

Your eyes roam his body and your eyes widen even more in disbelief at the sight of a fucking gift bow on his dick. This wasn't even close to what you were expecting as a surprise from Gojo when he texted you but the more you take in the unexpected sight, the more you start to like it.

You notice that his hands are behind his back and you assume that it's been tied together somehow.

Gojo's previous confident demeanor fades away and he swallows nervously at your intense stare on his body, feeling your eyes looking at everything. He has to hold back a shiver, not from the cold but rather from how you're looking down at him with hunger in your eyes. Though his ankles aren't tied together, Gojo had squeezed them together to try to hide his hard dick.

"Do you... like it?" You grin at him. "Oh baby I love it, you look so pretty like this." Gojo flushes red which only compliments the red ribbon on him even more. "I can't believe you did this just for me. If I knew, I would've arrived back so much earlier."

Gojo pouts and glances away from you nervously. "Um, c-can you help me?" You furrow your eyebrows at him. "You want to get out of the ribbon already?" Gojo shakes his head rapidly. Before you could ask him what he meant, he slowly spreads his legs together to reveal his now hard dick to you.

"You got hard just from my praise? Or were you already hard when I arrived here?" You chuckle. "I didn't even touch you yet or anything either." Gojo whines at your teasing. You're about to tease him again before your eyes catch onto the vibrator attached to his dick and you choke on your spit.

"Shit gojo. You just love surprising me, don't you?" Gojo flushes and you glance around. "Where's the remote, baby?' You see Gojo turn to his head and motion towards the small remote on top of a nearby table and you're quick to grab it.

"W-Wait don't a-ah shit!" You immediately increase the vibration setting and watch as he squirms on the ground, his head thrashing side to side at the intensity of the pleasure. His knees are up and you place a hand on one to keep him still. You lean over his figure and chuckle.

"I guess Santa got what I wanted for Christmas this year," you tease, a wide grin threatening to spread on your face. Gojo lets out a small cry but being the huge flirt he always is, he simply shoots back with his retort. Well, he tries to at least. "Y-You ngh asked S-Santa for me to ha be n-naked and tied in red ribbon? ah!"

You chuckle. "Well not exactly, but I would like to say it's pretty close." You watch as pre cum leaks from his tip steadily, only adding to the erotic scene in front of you.

Gojo squirms under your hungry and intense gaze. The ribbon tied around his wrists prevents him from touching you and although he's able to break out of them if he wants to, you know he won't. Every time he moves, the ribbon wrapped around his chest rubs against his nipple, causing it to harden and send a bolt of pleasure up his spine.

As Gojo soon realizes that you're not planning to touch him, he only whimpers. "Touch m-me [name]! Please..." You hold down onto his knee more, leaning forward as you look down on him. The sudden adrenaline rush you're getting from the feeling of having Gojo underneath you begging for your touch only adds to your desire to ruin him. From this view, you're able to see the way his muscles flex and tighten against the ribbon, your eyes raking over his sculpted body.

You pretend to think about his plea, tapping on your chin as if you're actually considering it. You see hope flash in Gojo's eyes before you turn back towards him with a wicked grin.

"How about... no?" You giggle when Gojo whines, his eyes never leaving the remote in your hand. You feign a pout at him. "You surprised me with all this, shouldn't I get to enjoy it, baby?"

Gojo swallows and tries to stutter out a response through a moan that escapes his mouth, reminding him that the vibrator is still against his dick and on too. "Y-Yeah but..." You raise an eyebrow at him, urging him to finish his sentence but Gojo only turns his head away from you, face flushed red. Though subtle, you feel his legs spread wider for you as he shuts his eyes. He eagerly nods.

"P-Please use me..." You grin and immediately turn the toy onto high, watching in amusement as Gojo's body jerks and arches beautifully. "Oh glady, baby." His eyes shoot open and you see how they're glazed over. Almost as if he's about to cry.

You coo at him. "Gonna cry already, baby? Just from a mere toy in your ass and some bondage?" Gojo cries weakly at you. Sure it was just a toy but it was a large one at that, one that Gojo has been nervous to try up until now. Though of course he's not regretting it now, fully immersed in the pleasure as sparks shock his body throughout.

You have to swallow down the lump in your throat as you feel your body heat up. Gojo quickly warns you he's close, his loud noises filling the room that would surely cause a noise complaint to arrive at your door tomorrow but you could care less at the moment.

"Go on baby, make a mess of yourself for me." Babbling out thank you's and pleas, you watch as he cums, the white substance covering his stomach, some even on his chest and on the ribbon. You quickly turn off the toy in him and watch as he slumps against the floor, his chest heaving as he tries to recover from the intense orgasm he just had.

Walking to where his face lay, you peck his cheek. "Stay here, alright? I'll go grab a wet cloth and clean you up." But as you stand up, Gojo's hand grabs your wrist and you widen your eyes. You didn't even realize he slipped his hands out of the bondage.

You stare at him as Gojo looks at you, heavy breaths leaving his mouth. "Could we... could we take this to the bedroom?" It takes you a few seconds but it then hits you that he's suggesting a round two and you only giggle.

"Seriously? You want another round?" Gojo nods eagerly and you move to untie the ribbon but he stops you, sitting up. "Could I keep it on? I-I kinda like it and it's only my chest anyways and-" He soon realizes he's rambling and cuts himself off. You giggle and grab his face.

"Of course, baby. You'll always be the best present I could ask for.”

ty for reading to the end! ❤️ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

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vampsywrites · 10 months

Text

a protector

synopsis: after your acceptance into the omaticaya clan, neteyam takes you to utraya mokri (the tree of voices)

tags: fluffyy, aged up! neteyam (18-19), neteyam pining hard, reader being a tease, neteyam playing hard to get only to end up jealous someone help him

a/n: neteyam is just his mother cloned fight me/j also, in this au the tree of voices was not destroyed

w.c: 0.7k

The luminescent flora seemed to come alive, painting the surroundings in a mystical hue. Intrigued, your fingers extend towards the nearest tree, cautiously exploring its glistening trunk. Neteyam observes your genuine curiosity with a warm smile, appreciating the reverence you show for this sacred place.

Underfoot, a bed of moss glows faintly. Peals of laughter slips from your lips as you see it react to your footsteps with expanding rings of light.

"This is a place for prayers to be heard," Neteyam's voice barely rose above a hushed murmur as he gently led you towards the center of mesmerizing bioluminescent willow trees. "And sometimes, Eywa answers."

"It's beautiful," you gasp out breathlessly, delving deeper into the heart of this sacred wilderness. Neteyam faithfully follows like a lost puppy, his gaze fixed intently upon your back. After taking a moment to immerse yourself in the enchanting surroundings, you finally turn your attention back to him.

"Is there a specific reason you brought me here?" you inquire, although a part of you already senses the significance behind this meet-up.

As your gaze lands on Neteyam, you take note of his refined attire, a welcome change from his usual rugged warrior-like style.

Tonight, he stands tall and proud, his frame accentuated by the elaborate ceremonial garb he wears. Woven green bands, expertly crafted, encircle his firm biceps as its vibrant hues shimmer in the dappled light filtering through the canopy. Further down, your gaze is drawn to the beaded garment gracing his waist, adorned by carved wooden beads and shining gems.

The warrior fakes a coughs, turning around to brush his fingers through one of the draping tendrils." You are Omaticaya now. You are one of the people. Which means you may make your own bow from the wood of Hometree."

Neteyam pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering briefly towards you before retreating back to the ground. "And… you may choose a mate."

Amusement dances in your eyes as you watch him struggle to maintain a casual fa��ade, trying hard not to glance back at you.

"Is that so?" you playfully respond, pretending not to understand the implications. Neteyam nods with his back still turned from you.

"Ao'sun is a skilled weaver," Neteyam murmurs softly, his voice scarcely above a whisper, "He is one of our best."

The willow trees sway gently as a cool breeze sweeps through the forest. You step closer to him until you are flush against his side, feeling the warmth of his body against your own. "I don't want Ao'sun," you say, your tone teasing yet sincere.

Neteyam swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips as he tries to process your words. "Natiro is a very skilled crafter," he stammers, attempting to divert the conversation.

"Indeed," you agree, a cheeky smile tugging at the corners of your lips, "He is."

A flicker of jealousy sparks in Neteyam's eyes, momentarily betraying his composure. He tries to conceal his inner turmoil, but his clenched jaw and the sudden tension in his posture give him away. The admission of other potential suitors stirs an unexpected wave of possessiveness within him.

You sense the shift in his demeanor, your cheeky smile widening ever so slightly. Chuckling, you lean in closer, your voice a soft whisper against his ear.

"But, I don't want him. There is someone else who has captivated me," you confess, your voice filled with affection. "A certain protector of mine. And he is not just anyone; he is a mighty warrior. One who has become incredibly dear to me."

Neteyam's lips part, but no words escape. Instead, he shakily reaches out, his large hand tenderly cupping your cheek, his touch gentle yet dominating. In that moment, the jungle around you seems to hold its breath. The willow trees swaying in anticipation, their whispered rustle echoing the tender exchange.

With a knowing smile, you gently place your hand atop Neteyam's, intertwining your fingers with his. "Ma'teyam, it has always been you," you affirm, your voice filled with assurance. "Your strength, your loyalty, your, at times, overbearing protectiveness and the way you make me feel…"

Neteyam's eyes shimmer with a depth of emotion. Wasting no time, he sweeps you into his strong arms, pressing his lips against yours, igniting a flame of desire that courses through your entire being. Once your lips separate, a comfortable silence fills the air, interrupted only by the sound of your pants.

taglist: @avatarmasterlistblog

"Ma'teyam," you smile up at him, "I choose you."

#💫—vampsywrites #avatar #avatarimagine #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #writing #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x reader

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s-brant · 1 year

Text

Judas

Upon returning to King’s Landing, an unexpected betrothal is arranged to make peace between Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent’s children.

13k (18+)

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, arranged marriage, and violence. (smut in part two, stay tuned).

The last time she saw Aemond, they were mere children.

It was the morning after Leanor Velaryon’s funeral at Driftmark, not even a full week following the passing of his dear sister, Laena, and she was watching from the saddle strapped across the back of her dragon as he and his mother strolled along the beach side by side. She made a point of doting on her young son more than she had in the past due to the loss of his eye. Her arm was draped over his shoulder, her hand rubbing up and down his arm, and, yet, he didn’t seem consoled by her sweet touch. All he did was stare off at the horizon, his face hardened by the years of cruelty from his own brother and the prospect of having to face more ridicule due to his disfigurement.

That was the final glimpse she got of him for years, and, since moving to Dragonstone with her family, she hadn’t been back to visit King’s Landing once. Instead, she spent her days flying on dragonback, committing to her studies, and learning to fight with a sword from the best warrior she knew. Her father.

While all of her siblings refer to him as their father due to the union between him and their mother, Y/N says it with a certainty none can question. It wasn’t something Rhaenyra ever meant to admit to her. In fact, it wasn’t her mother who told her at all. It was Daemon. After an afternoon spent fighting, Valyrian steel clashing against Valyrian steel in a symphony of practiced violence, she asked him the question that would confirm the suspicions she had for most of her young life.

Jace, Lucerys, and Joffrey were sired by the late Sir Harwin Strong, that much she knew from the countless rumors hurled at them as well as his consistent presence when they were small, but she knew she was not his nor Laenor’s. It was an open secret amongst all who knew them. And, when confronted with it, Daemon met her with honesty. It was less to do with her and more to do with him, however. He couldn’t bear to pretend she belonged to anyone but him, so he told her.

“Issa drēje, ñuha dōna riña,” he said in their native tongue to keep any guards nearby from eavesdropping.

It is true, my sweet girl.

He tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear in a display of affection not entirely uncommon for his favorite child. It was no secret that he favored her most. After all, she was the heir to the throne, and she retained the very best of his and Rhaenyra’s respective personalities. Then, of course, there was the small fact that she was his, not Harwin’s. He loved his step-children, of course, but she was his most cherished creation of Rhaenyra’s by far.

“Nyke gīmigon istia daor jaelagon naejot rȳbagon bisa, yn i’ll va moriot sagon drēje lēda ao. Ñuha lēkia refused naejot wed zirȳla naejot nyke skori ziry ryptan, sīr ziry teptan zirȳla naejot laenor naejot ruaragon ziry bē,” he explained. I know you must not want to hear this, but I’ll always be honest with you. My brother refused to wed her to me when he heard, so he gave her to Laenor to cover it up.

He then looked at her, and she held his gaze without balking from the intense stare that many unfortunate souls met before taking their last breaths. To her, he wasn’t a monster. He was a ghost she spent her whole childhood chasing after. She still couldn’t believe he was real.

“Yn nyke va moriot jeldan naejot sagon iā kepa naejot ao. Gaomagon daor mirre másino bona.” But I always wanted to be a father to you. Do not ever question that.

With that, a grin broke out on her face, and she nodded along with tear-filled eyes. They never spoke of it again after they returned to the castle where Rhaenyra and the boys were settled at the table for dinner together. It didn’t have to be said aloud again, though. Now that she knew for certain, she didn’t need to dwell on it any longer.

For Aemond, the days they spent at Driftmark for the funeral of Laena Velaryon were a conflicting period of time. For Y/N, it was the beginning of her happiness. All she wanted was to know the truth, to know her father, and that was the first time she was allowed to.

Now, she isn’t sure if she’s as happy as she once was.

The breeze blows her hair from her shoulders as she descends upon King’s Landing atop Vermithor. Like Aemond, she too was raised without a dragon. It was something they once bonded over as children until he nearly bashed her younger brother’s face in with a rock the night he claimed Vhagar. Shortly after their return to Dragonstone, she made it her life’s mission to claim the beast who dwelled in its solitary lair on the island.

Flying settles her nerves better than anything else. Wine tends to make her wallow in sorrow more than anything, talking with her parents only ends in lectures or reassurance she does not seek, and since she is not a male, she cannot frequent brothels without consequence like her brothers could to relieve stress. The only retreat she has is the sky.

Seeing that the rest of her family left by ship ahead of her, she doesn’t expect to see any others on dragonback nearby. As she scans the sky, she sees nothing but the city spread out ahead of her and the endless expanse of ocean beneath. That is, of course, until she sees the shadow passing over her head.

Bigger than her own by a decent margin, she knows that the dragon casting a shadow onto her cannot by any other than the largest in existence. She doesn’t make the mistake of tipping her head back to take a look, however. She makes the choice to feign indifference rather than give in to the demand for attention Aemond shows through flying so close overhead. Unlike her brothers, he doesn’t frighten her, and that small difference in attitude is certain to annoy him.

Vhagar swoops down in a steep dive in front of her, and she hardly has the chance to steer Vermithor out to the right to avoid being smacked with the other dragon’s long tail.

Sensing his sudden state of unease, she reaches down to stroke her gloved hand along the surface of his rough skin and says to him with the same tone her mother uses to soothe her in times of distress, “Lykiri, Vermithor. Lykiri.” She scoffs at the sight of a man with long silver hair to match hers riding on Vhagar’s back. “He poses no threat.”

As expected, Aemond does not taunt them any more than this. The sound of his dragon’s wings flapping in the wind overpowers that of the waves crashing onto the land as they both make their way to the Dragonpit. The folk living in the city whip their head around to catch sight of the giant creatures descending upon them with equal parts fear and enchantment. Targaryens are closer to Gods than men, so what can mere mortals do but watch as evidence of their superior existence shoots through the sky on a set of gargantuan wings?

With Vermithor promptly landed on the sandy ground as far from Vhagar and her rider as possible, Y/N dismounts him with a tired sigh, muscles aching from hours of riding, and climbs down onto unsteady feet. She greets her escort, Ser Harold, with a bright smile despite Aemond’s antics, as well as the reason for visiting in the first place, weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Queen Alicent means to call into question Jacaerys’ inheritance of Driftmark in the absence of Lord Corlys, and, by extension, call the legitimacy of all of Rhaenyra’s offspring into question as well. Y/N remains mostly unconcerned by this. She knows in her heart that she is a trueborn Targaryen, and whatever Alicent may have to say about her brothers will do nothing to change it. So long as King Viserys remains steadfast in his declaration of his daughter and her children as heirs to the throne, there shouldn’t be much to fear.

Just as Aemond turns from his beloved dragon with the intention of beginning the journey back to the Red Keep on foot, the sound of Y/N’s voice halts him.

“Hello, Uncle,” she says with a pointed stare.

He shows no issue with staring right back at her.

“Niece,” he says with no real emotion to the word.

“It has been a while since we last met.”

With one glance, she deduces that he has changed in the time they’ve spent apart. For one, the bloodied scar she saw covered by bandages in the days after Lucerys maimed him has been healed and hidden behind a leather eyepatch. Whatever it is that lurks beneath, she hasn’t a clue. The rest that is visible to her searching eyes is surprisingly agreeable.

He has a strong, sharp jaw, pretty lips, and he stands tall above her height with the sinewy figure of a fine swordsman. As much as it pains her to admit it to herself, he has grown into a handsome man. If it weren’t for the purposefully off-putting demeanor, ancient dragon, and the intimidation accompanying his eyepatch, there’d likely be droves of highborn maidens begging their fathers to set up an advantageous match with the prince.

His stoic face displays no reaction she can discern before he says, “It has, Princess,” and walks off without deigning to speak another word to her.

The first two hours of her arrival are spent becoming acquainted with her chambers and washing the stink of dragon, as her dear grandsire always called it, from her body before formally greeting Queen Alicent and reconnecting with her parents. For as long as she could get away with, she submerged herself in the in-ground, marble bathing tub flooded to the brim with steaming water and gazed out of the opened windows with daydreams of flying back home on Vermithor at once. The citrus-scented oil one of the handmaidens poured into the water washes the sweat and proof of her flight from Dragonstone from her long hair and skin. By the time she dries off and allows the ladies waiting outside of the bathing room to help her dress, she looks brand new.

Her hair is half-up, half-down with simple braids keeping it from falling into her face, and her dress is one of her favorites that was brought on the ship with the rest of her bare necessity belongings. It used to belong to her mother—rich, red fabric with a neckline that hangs off the shoulders with a gold belt cinching her waist and cuffs that circle her wrists. The sleeves are cut open at the center to display her arms, and she cannot help but smile at the sight of her reflection.

Navigating the familiar halls of the Red Keep keeps her occupied on her way to find her parents and brothers. On her way, she passes many servants and guards, all of whom she offers a tight-lipped smile, and walks until she reaches the gardens, then the training yard at the front gate to the castle grounds where she finally spots her brothers.

“Jace! Luc!” she shouts to garner their attention and hurries down the steps to meet Jacaerys in a tight embrace.

She only speaks again once they’re pulling apart, one arm wrapping around Lucerys to pull him into her side, “I missed you both terribly. Dragonstone is not the same without the rest of you residing there.”

Both of them grin at her, their brown eyes crinkling at the sides, and try not to pay attention to the whispers of the onlookers in the yard who call attention to the differences between the boys and their older sister. When standing beside each other, it couldn’t be any more clear. Where their hair is dark, hers is paler than snow. Where they are shorter than their uncles and step-father, she is taller than them both and carries an aura of otherworldliness her mother passed along to her.

At the sight of Lucerys’ gaze shifting toward a clustered group of three talking amongst themselves while looking at them, Jace speaks before she gets the chance, “Pay them no mind, brother.”

Her hand strokes through her younger brother's brunette hair as though to soothe him the same way she had done with her dragon hours prior, and she nods.

“Come, let us watch the men train while you catch me up on what I missed on your journey here. Tell me, did mother and father bicker the whole time? Seasickness makes her quite short with him, and he detests traveling by ship rather than dragonback.”

With that, the three of them launch into a conversation revolving around the events of their voyage here. Due to her combined seasickness and pregnancy-induced illness, their mother was short with everyone, not just Daemon. Jacaerys said that when Joffrey decided to jest with her by chasing her down while holding a rat he found at the bottom of the ship, it took Daemon shooing everyone, the rat included, from their room to prevent her shouting at everyone in her path. As sweet as she is, even their mother has limits when it comes to her boys behaving less like princes and more like pests.

Y/N is still giggling to herself at the thought of it as they come to a stop around the edges of the small crowd that has gathered to watch Ser Criston Cole fight with another man. Through the bodies forming a wall between them and the action, it takes the Princess murmuring, “Excuse me,” softly a few times for her and the boys to reach a decent spot.

The second she gains a clear view, her smile drops.

Though her brothers may not recognize him from behind as she does since they have not seen him in years, she knows it’s him the second she catches a glimpse of his hair swaying with his body’s sharp movements. Her earlier assumptions are quickly proven true. A fine swordsman indeed, she realizes as Aemond spins around with his sword raised at Ser Criston’s neck with an expression that takes pride in his victory before the knight can even form the words.

“Well done, my Prince,” Ser Criston says, panting.

The sword is lowered from his neck without another word from Aemond, and, just as he thinks he might ask Cole to go again, he catches sight of her on the edge of the crowd. Of course, he has no choice but to notice her first. Among the people watching them, she is one of few with hair the same shade as his. Another huge small factor contributing to him noticing her first would have to be her being the only woman present. Although adorned in fine clothing and jewelry fit for a Princess, she looks as though she is comfortable where she stands in the midst of clashing swords and leering men.

His eye follows the neckline of her dress that leaves her neck and shoulders exposed, and he finds his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening involuntarily. His jaw clenches at the delicate slope of her neck giving away to her shoulders. For a second, she finds it difficult to breathe. When pinned down beneath his intense stare, what else could one do but go still and quiet and wait for chaos to ensue?

He shifts his focus to the boys flanking her on either side.

“Nephews,” he says by way of greeting, “Have you come to train?”

She watches in her periphery as Jace opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words, and almost speaks up on their behalf to say their mother is expecting them back soon, but they are saved. The doors to the castle gates open with a thunderous rumble, and everyone’s attention turns from where it had been transfixed upon her siblings to the man who strolls in.

Vaemond Velaryon.

Under her breath, Y/N mutters a hardly audible, “Of course,” with a scoff nobody else surrounding them notices. Except for one. It shouldn’t surprise her that Aemond picked up on her disdain for Corlys’ nephew whom she knows without a doubt will aid Alicent in her attempts to steal her brother’s inheritance from him. Her uncle’s eye remains locked on her as she watches Vaemond walk up the path leading to the castle, and it isn’t until the older man disappears from view that she notices his staring.

Right when Aemond expects her to avert her eyes with the same reproach her brothers have for him, she does the very opposite. How he could ever expect the daughter of Daemon Targaryen to shy away from a challenge, he doesn’t know, but he finds himself surprised all the same.

“Apologies, my Prince, but our mother is expecting us back soon. She sent me to fetch my brothers,” she says without breaking their stare. “Perhaps you may train together at another time.”

She ushers the two younger boys away with a hand on each of their arms without allowing their uncle to get another word. Payback, she supposes, for his curt attitude with her back at the Dragonpit. Over her shoulder, she casts him a glare that could cut a weaker man to the bone. It conveys every word she has yet to say to him, telling him, “If you lay a hand on either of them, I will cut your heart out just as my brother did with your eye.” Her hair swishes in the afternoon breeze as she turns to look ahead of her once more and leaves him standing with Ser Criston Cole in the training yard.

“The Princess is the very image of her mother, is she not?” Ser Criston asks, drawing his attention back to him.

Coming from him in particular, that isn’t the compliment those around them assume it to be. Alicent and Ser Criston have never spoken candidly of what incited their shared distaste for Rhaenyra other than her passing off her bastards as trueborn princes, but Aemond is not a fool. He can sense it in the way Ser Criston speaks and acts regarding his aunt and her children that the reason lies deeper than moral outrage over bastard children.

All Aemond offers in response is a quiet hum in agreement as he sheathes his sword.

The rest of the night following their run-in with Prince Aemond was uneventful for the most part.

Though she did lie to allow her brothers a quick escape from the man who has been yearning to exact revenge against them for years, the first thing she did was find her mother. She and Daemon were coming back to their chambers after speaking with Queen Alicent, and their faces lit up at the sight of their daughter despite how difficult it was to see Viserys in such a state of suffering earlier in the day.

Rhaenyra ran her hands down the sleeves of her dress, feeling the years-old fabric slipping through her fingers, and said with a nostalgic smile, “You look beautiful, my love.”

It was something she heard from her mother at a constant rate, but it warmed her heart even if it were the millionth time she heard the words spoken to her in that soft, caring tone of voice. A moment later, Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, murmuring something about how good it was to see her.

Now, as she sits at her mother's feet and allows her to braid her hair before she’s off to her chambers to sleep for the night, she flips through a book she found in the library after dinner and becomes lost in her thoughts.

The way Aemond looked at her today in the training yard…It was strange. Not strange in the sense that she has never seen a man look at her like that before. She has. In fact, many men far too old and below her station have looked at her like that and met the glares of her fiercely protective parents who, by the grace of the Gods, agreed to her wish to put off marriage until it became absolutely necessary. No, what made the way Aemond looked at her strange had less to do with her lacking experience in witnessing men admire her beauty and more to do with the fact that it was him.

Of course, he is merely a man. Many gossiping court ladies she overheard when she was little said they are more susceptible to the temptation of the flesh than women are, but she’s never felt the way she did when she caught him staring. There was a rush of heat blooming between her thighs under the skirts of her dress, and she could hardly stand to hold his gaze for the duration of the moment. It felt wrong to feel that way when he was looking at her brothers like they were prey to kill seconds after staring at her.

“I visited Helaena and her children today,” Y/N says suddenly to distract herself from her current train of thought. “I suppose they liked me. They kept pulling at my skirts to get my attention as Helaena and I spoke. She is a wonderful mother to our little cousins.”

Though she couldn’t see it, Rhaenyra smiles and says, “You will make a wonderful mother too one day.” A long pause. “Did you see your uncles as well?”

She shakes her head, which causes her mother to tighten her grip on the strands of hair she’s braiding down her back, then offers a murmured apology before going on to respond to the question.

“Well, I saw one of them. Aemond landed with Vhagar in the Dragonpit when I first arrived. Then, at the training yard, he spoke briefly to Jace and Luc. Thank the Gods I did not have the misfortune of running into Aegon.”

The consistent pulling and twisting of Rhaenyra’s fingers braiding her hair goes still for a moment.

“You do not prefer Prince Aegon, then?”

She scoffs.

“He is a miserable cunt.”

In the connected room, the sound of Daemon’s wry laughter in reaction to the insult echoes and reaches their ears with ease. The hatred her father has for every Hightower in the Red Keep is not hidden from anyone, least of all her, so when she hears him laugh, she cannot help but grin to herself.

“Y/N…” her mother chides.

“I know it is not nice to say such things, but everyone knows it to be true. Helaena is the one I prefer of all your siblings. She is kind to everyone. Aemond is…tolerable, I suppose. A fine swordsman. I prefer both of them to Aegon.”

Rhaenyra hums in consideration of her candid statement.

“As do I.”

It only takes another five or so minutes for her to secure the long braid in order to prevent it from coming undone in her sleep before sending her off to bed. A kiss is pressed to the top of her head as a goodbye, then she is escorted to her chambers by one of the guards stationed outside of her parent’s door.

The throne room is flooded with people by the middle of the next day.

On one side, she, her parents, and her brothers stand before a crowd of curious observers who will surely gossip about what they are to see here today. On the other stands Queen Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. As always, Alicent is dressed in one of her finest green dresses to hammer the extent of their division home as if it weren’t already clear enough, while Rhaenyra wears one of black and red. Her brothers and father wore black by coincidence while Y/N, ever the loyal daughter, picked out a gown to match her mother as closely as she could.

The sight of her decked out in full red and black Targaryen regalia prompted Aegon to snort an unbecoming laugh when they walked in as a family. Alicent was quick to quiet him out of fear that those surrounding them would hear and look upon them unfavorably over his rude behavior. Meanwhile, Aemond simply stared.

She can feel it from across the room despite her attempts to ignore it—that same heated gaze he set upon her yesterday is back. If she weren’t so determined to her feigned act of indifference toward him, it would make her want to squirm in discomfort. It’s impossible to focus on what venomous words Vaemond spouts about her family and why he should inherit Driftmark in place of Jacaerys when she can feel Aemond’s eye on her.

To his credit, he looks away whenever her father scans his gaze around the room. If Daemon saw one of Alicent Hightower’s sons ogling his daughter, who knows what he may be compelled to do? So, every time Daemon’s focus strays from the man pleading his case to the Hand sitting atop the throne, he makes certain to look at anyone but her. Whenever her father’s eyes return to the front of the room, however, he goes straight back to it.

The only thing that manages to break his stare is the sound of the doors to the great hall being pushed open in the midst of Rhaenyra’s speech.

A masculine voice booms through the open space of the hall, “King Viserys of House Targaryen, first of his name!” Every person in the room gasps or takes a deep inhale of some sort at the sight of the frail old man that appears in the doorway, stumbling into the room with a mask covering half of his deteriorating face and a cane in hand. “King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm!”

It is painful to watch him struggle his way down the length of the room, and, considering that, she cannot imagine how much worse it must be for him. Every breath he takes is labored and shallow, heaving for air that evades him at every rise and fall of his chest. The side of his face visible to them all appears pale with dark circles and bags beneath his eyes, leaving her to wonder how much worse the other side could be to necessitate the mask concealing it. It has been years since she last saw her grandsire, and, though she knew he was ill, his current state is worse than she ever could have imagined.

Y/N watches with wide eyes as he approaches where Rhaenyra and Otto Hightower stand on either side of the room with the throne to bisect them in a line of demarcation. There are only two sides as of now—green and black—yet here he stands at the center to bind them together with what little strength he has left in his weary body.

His head cranes to the side to face Otto.

Viserys says, “I will sit the throne today,” and that is that.

It doesn’t get any easier for his family to watch him on his way up the stairs. And though he refuses the help of the guards, he does not tell his brother to back off when he appears at his side to retrieve the crown that slid off of his balding head and escort him the rest of the way to the throne. A soft smile crosses her face at the sight of her father placing the crown onto his head, and she welcomes him back to her side with her hand extended when he walks down the stairs with it never having left her face.

Feeling his rough hand in hers steadies her for what comes next. For having to endure the glares from Vaemond and her uncles when Viserys declares her brother the rightful heir to Driftmark. For having to listen to the hushed whispers that always occur at the sight of Jacaerys and Lucerys’ dark hair and features that resemble that of their biological father.

As the king calls the Princess Rhaenys to speak on behalf of her missing husband, her grip tightens enough for Daemon to give it a reassuring squeeze back. It tells her not to worry. It tells her that he and her mother will die before they let anything happen to her or her dear brothers.

Rhaenys stands with her hands folded in front of her and holds her chin high as she says to her cousin, “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Jacaerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him.” A knowing glance is cast at where Rhaenyra stands side by side with her eldest son, and, in response, Y/N’s mother nods. Just once. “As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luc, to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Y/N’s gaze immediately turns to find her father with as much subtlety as possible, and he gives her a nod similar to the one her mother gave Rhaenys to confirm that they plotted this together. It’s difficult not to smirk to herself at the mere thought of the panic Queen Alicent must surely feel as a result of this. She can always count on her parents to be one step ahead, can’t she?

“Well,” Viserys starts, “the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Jacaerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

Alicent’s eyes avert to the ground in what Y/N guesses is disbelief and shame. Shame for her husband who has never, not once in the course of their marriage, chosen her and their children over himself. Although she admires Viserys’ love for his only daughter, Y/N cannot pretend to miss the sorrow evident on his wife’s face. Still, she finds it hard to have much sympathy for the woman who came after her mother with a knife years ago and actively tried to supplant her brother in the line of succession. Then, there’s the matter of Aegon. In her eyes, a mother who shields her perverted son from the consequences of his actions is no better than the son himself. If Y/N is to bear her future husband a son, she will be sure to raise him the way Rhaenyra has raised her honorable brothers.

Across the room, she catches Aemond’s eye once more and tries to refrain from shifting in place so as to not alert her father of the matter. Seeing that Daemon is rather protective of her, she wouldn’t want to spark any more chaos today than there already has been. This time, however, Aemond does not look at her with the same desire from yesterday. He assesses her from top to bottom, sizing her and her family up as the threat they’ve proven themselves to be.

Their attention is quickly called elsewhere when Viserys speaks again.

“It seems I have another announcement to make. A joyous one, to be sure.”

Her grandsire looks at her with a fond smile, and she can feel dread curling in the pit of her belly like an asp readying itself to strike.

“After speaking with the Princess Rhaenyra, my daughter and I have reached an agreement regarding the betrothal of her eldest daughter.” Imperceptibly to anyone but her, Daemon’s hand tightens its grasp on hers at the announcement that neither of them expected. “I hereby announce the betrothal of Princess Y/N of House Targaryen and my son, Prince Aemond of House Targaryen.”

The room erupts with the sound of gasps and whispers from the observers as well as a few members of the family who hadn’t been clued into the plans of her mother and grandsire. With a quick look around the room, it seems that nobody was informed ahead of time, not even Aemond’s mother. It’s hard for her to think, let alone conjure the ability to speak in order to whisper to her father not to make a scene or challenge the word of his brother. All she can do is try to breathe as deeply as possible through the shock and stare across the room at her uncle as though to ask him if he knew.

By the way he looks back at her with an equal amount of surprise, or, at least, as much as his inexpressive face will allow him to display, he did not know either.

What followed the announcement of her betrothal to Aemond mattered little to her. She did not bat an eye at her father’s cold-blooded murder of Vaemond, nor did she say a word to anyone as she walked in step with her family out of the great hall. To her mother’s terror, Y/N did not make a face or utter anything on the journey to her parents’ shared quarters with her brothers following closely behind.

She has never known her daughter to be a closed-mouthed woman. Growing up, it was something she prided herself on as a young mother—that ferocity, that fire—and admired about her only daughter. That is why Y/N’s silence is troubling by comparison to her typical demeanor. For someone who inherited her temper from her father, someone who has the blood of the dragon flowing in their veins, silence is a precursor to deadly rage.

And when the door closes behind Lucerys, the dragon is unleashed.

“How dare you?” she spits the words with tears welling up in her eyes. “You’ve damned me to a marriage with a man who couldn’t be bothered to speak more than a few words to me after years spent apart! I don’t wish to live here without you, and father, and my brothers, it’s like being thrown to the wolves! Dragonstone is where I’m happiest, mother, you know that!”

She stands in front of her entire family, excluding her youngest brothers Aegon and Viserys who are being tended to by her mother's handmaidens, pleading her case as though she is being put on trial. Jacaerys and Lucerys know better than to offer a comforting touch or words of encouragement at the risk of getting caught in the crossfire, but the sympathy visible on their faces is more than enough to offer the support she needs. The two of them know better than anyone why she is upset at the idea of her betrothal to Aemond. After all, it was Jace whose head he nearly bashed in during a fight years ago and Luc who cut his eye out in defense of him.

Rhaenyra attempts to reach out to her only to have the touch rejected with a gentle shove to the arm to prevent her from holding her daughter’s hand.

“My love,” she says softly, sighing, “I know this is not what you would have envisioned for yourself, but I needed a plan. With you and Aemond wed, with him as your prince consort and the father of your heirs when you ascend to the Iron Throne, the division between our families will cease.” When Y/N scowls at her, she adds, “I took your feelings into consideration to the best of my ability. Your grandsire proposed that you and Aegon be betrothed years ago, but I refused him as a result of your desire to wait until you were older. Then, I proposed Jacaerys and Helaena wed, but Alicent refused. This was the best I could do to benefit both you and the realm.”

The younger woman’s jaw clenches with rage as she forces herself to remain civil and not spew the first nasty words that come to mind. She does not want to say things she will regret later in the heat of the moment, but, fuck, how can any of them expect her to remain calm after what Viserys and Rhaenyra did? Her fists clenched with enough force to break the skin of her palm with the blunt edges of her nails.

Y/N turns her heated gaze to Daemon and asks, “Will you do nothing to stop this, father? You hate the Hightowers just as much, if not more, than me. Do you not give a shit about your daughter being used as a political pawn by your brother?”

Although angry himself, Daemon’s eyes narrow at her abrasive tone of voice.

“Watch your tongue,” he warns. There’s a pause during which he raises his brows at her as if in a challenge, then relaxes his face when she sighs in reluctant obedience. “Your mother and I will discuss this matter privately. As of the present moment, what the King says is law, and you will mind your tone when speaking to your mother.”

Beneath the formality of his words, she can sense his ire for the decision Rhaenyra excluded him from making with her and Viserys. She knew as soon as it was announced that her parents would be going back and forth in argument until the late hours of the night over it, but her mother is not a closed-mouthed woman either. Seeing that she is the heir to the throne, her word holds more weight than his, and if she wishes for her daughter to marry Prince Aemond, it will happen regardless of Daemon’s protests.

Y/N presses her hand to her forehead and turns to face the wall, rubbing her temple as if that will do anything to soothe the thoughts racing through her head. If not even her father has the power to protect her from her fate, what else is she to do but surrender herself to it? Instantly, the wheels begin to spin in her head, and she conjures up the conditions it will take for her to bind herself to Aemond One-Eye.

She turns around and wills her face into a mask of composed poise.

“I have conditions.”

Her mother cannot help but mutter, “Oh, Seven Hells,” under her breath to herself while her father suppresses a chuckle.

“I will do my duty and marry Prince Aemond for the sake of the realm, but I will not forfeit my standards. I know Queen Alicent will want her son wed in the Grand Sept in the tradition of her faith, but I demand a traditional Valyrian wedding as well. Whichever comes first matters not to me, but I won’t forsake the tradition of our ancestors.”

Since childhood, she has dreamt of marrying her eventual husband in the tradition of her house just as her mother did with her father, and no matter how insistent Alicent may be, that dream isn’t one she is prepared to give up without a fight. If she is being taken from Dragonstone and given to one of her sons, the least she can do is accommodate her wishes for her own wedding day.

Rhaenyra offers her a tight-lipped smile.

“Your father and I will support you in that decision, I swear it.” She then asks, “What else?”

“There will be no bedding ceremony. That is sacred, and private, and should remain between us as husband and wife.”

The only thing she can imagine being more mortifying than having to wed a man who does not care for her is having to bed him in front of her grandsire, as well as other grown men and women she would prefer not see her in a state of undress. Not to mention, she would have to resort to burning Aegon to a crisp with Vermithor to avoid him pestering her until the end of her days over what he would witness in the ceremony.

“I agree,” her mother says. “I have no doubts that you and Prince Aemond will fulfill your duty. I see no need for a bedding ceremony either.”

With the silence that follows, the realization that what’s happening to her is, in fact, real nearly knocks her off her feet. Until now, she didn’t have to face it head-on without the buffer of her argument with her parents and the conditions for her agreeing to the marriage between her. That dread she felt in her belly has now spread to the rest of her body and holds her hostage. Yet, through the panic, she recalls the way he looked at her when they were in the training yard and hopes that basic level of desire will be a sturdy enough foundation for a functioning marriage.

She isn’t a fool. She knows that her marriage will not be loving, nor will it be what she wanted for herself in the past, but her mother is right. It is the best opportunity to keep the peace between their families, and marrying Aemond is a better alternative to what could have been with Aegon had her mother agreed with the King those years ago.

“Well, then, I suppose it’s already decided, is it not?” Before either of her parents can get a word in, she turns to her brothers and asks, “Jace, Luc, would you mind escorting me to my quarters? I wish to be alone until we are called to supper with the family.”

They both nod.

When it comes time to walk into the dining room, Y/N isn’t sure if she wants to enter.

An hour or so after she left her parents in their chambers, her father came to visit her in hers. The expression on his face was downcast yet subdued in the way it always is when he’s to deliver her bad news. All it took was one look at his face for her to slam the book she was reading shut and toss it onto the table in front of the chair she was lounging in. Her hair was disheveled from the braids she took down, and she wore her simplest, most comfortable dress available. She looked, for lack of a better word, a mess.

Daemon stalked across the room to her with his mouth clamped shut, one hand on the hilt of Dark Sister, and knelt down on the carpet in front of her. One of his hands reached for hers, and he held it. Without saying anything for the first moment or so, he held her hand because he knew it was what she needed from either him, her mother, or her brothers now that her temper had been given time to cool down. As soon as he saw her finally begin to take deep, even breaths in and out without fail, he allowed his hand to slip away.

“Iksan vaoreznuni, ñuha dōna riña,” he said in their mother tongue to keep any of her handmaidens from overhearing the private conversation. I am sorry, my sweet girl. “Konīr iksis daorun kostan gaomagon.” There is nothing I can do. “Nyke gōntan daor jaelagon ziry hae sȳrī. Yn konir sagon se vyguēsin hen bisa ābrar. Issa jēda ao gūrēñagon skoros māzigon lēda aōha gaomilaksir hae dārilaros.” I know this is not what you want. I did not want it as well. But that is the nature of this life. It is time you learn what comes with your duty as heir.

She huffed a sigh at him in response, wishing to throw a fit and stomp her feet the way she once did as a spoiled young princess, but she didn’t. What frustrated her the most was the fact that he was right. Everyone else was right—her mother, her father, Viserys—and it killed her. It threatened to eat her alive.

Y/N lamented, “Dārilaros Aemond gaomas daor sesīr hae nyke. Emi daorun isse quptenka, kepa.” Prince Aemond does not even like me. We have nothing in common, father. “Nyke gīmigon nyke gōntan daor emagon iā iderennon, yn naejot gaomagon bisa mijegon nyke iksis nūmāzma.” I know I did not have a choice, but to do this without me is mean.

To this, Daemon chuckled.

“Aōha muña gīmigon ao sȳrī. Lo ēdas eptan ao nūmāzma ziry, ao would emagon geptot va Vermithor.” Your mother knows you well. If she had asked you about it, you would have left on Vermithor. “Iksā aōha kepa’s tala. Iksā iā zaldrīzes. Se mērī ñuhoso naejot gaomagon īles naejot ruaragon ziry hen ao.” You are your father’s daughter. You are a dragon. The only way to do it was to hide it from you.

The last part drew a soft giggle from her as well. It wasn’t as if he was wrong. Had she been briefed on the plan to betroth her to her uncle, she would have marched down to the Dragonpit and mounted Vermithor the first chance she got. No, Rhaenyra was right, this was the only way to ensure the plan’s success on both ends. Had anyone told Aemond, she suspects he would have talked to his mother and allowed her to find a way out of it. Perhaps a highborn woman from another house whose gained alliance would prove too good of an offer for the King to overlook.

Her father quieted for a second, then spoke again quite candidly. For he never thought to prepare his most cherished creation for the reality of her ever-looming duty as a wife until now. Selfishly, he thought he and Rhaenyra may keep her forever. He already lost ten years with her, so why wouldn’t he feel entitled to more? But, he realized, she was a woman grown. Soon, she would no longer be his or Rhaenyra’s, nor would she be Prince Aemond’s. She would be her own. The Seven Kingdoms would one day be hers for the taking.

“Riña Rhea Royce iksin daor se ābra nyke jeldan hae ñuha ēlī ābrazȳrys, yn nyke gōntan ñuha gaomilaksir.” Lady Rhea Royce was not the woman I wanted as my first wife, but I did my duty. “Se gaomā daor gīmigon skorkydoso olvie emā isse quptenka lēda zirȳla. Ra arlinnon istin iksā wed. Skori ao glaesagon hae valzȳrys se ābrazȳrys, ao mirre hēnkirī. Lēda biarves, kesā mazverdagon naejot hae aōha valzȳrys. Se, lo ziry ōdrikagon ao, ao gīmigon aōha kepa se muña would nekēbagon hen zȳhon tolie laes. Daor bona ao jorrāelagon īlva. Daor, nyke gīmigon ao se vermithor kessa gaomagon sepār sȳz mērī.” And you do not know how much you have in common with him. Things change once you are wed. When you live as husband and wife, you work together. With luck, you will grow to like your husband. And, if he hurts you, you know your father and mother would carve out his other eye. Not that you need us. No, I know you and Vermithor will do just fine alone.

The thought of things changing between her and Aemond felt impossible, but she decided to take his word for it. What else was she to do? After all, her father had three marriages so far, and she had none. If anyone were an expert in the matter, it would be him, not her.

Truth be told, Prince Aemond was not the worst option in the realm. It could’ve been Aegon, and thank the Gods it was not. For one, she did not find him as attractive as Aemond, and he could not wield a sword to save his own skin, so how could she expect him to protect her as his wife? She and Aemond could take down a group of men with their skill as sword fighters alone, standing back to back as a team. The same cannot be said for her other uncle. Not to mention, Aegon had a well-known reputation for forcing himself on the handmaidens who tended to him and his wife. Aemond, however, had never had such vile rumors spread about him. Outside of his obvious lust for revenge against her brothers, he was decent.

After her father departed, it was time to wash for the day and allow her handmaidens to aid her in preparing for supper. Rather than wearing the dress she sported in the Great Hall earlier that day, she opted for her best. If this was her first dinner with her soon-to-be husband and stepmother, she would do her best to make Rhaenyra proud in one of the dresses she had made for her.

Now, the confidence she built up in the secluded sanctuary of her private chambers has dwindled back down, but she doesn’t allow herself to linger outside of the dining room for any longer than a moment. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, then walks in.

Everyone else, save for King Viserys, is already present at the long table pushed toward the other side of the spacious room she enters. She forces her gaze to meet her parents’ eyes first, then her brothers, Queen Alicent, Helaena, Otto, Aegon, then, finally Aemond. He is positioned at the end of the table with an empty chair beside him that she can only assume is meant for her now that they are promised to one another. Mercifully, she is seated on the side closest to her dear Aunt Helaena, not Otto Hightower. Whether that was intentionally planned by her mother, father, grandsire, or new stepmother, she does not know. If she were to bet on it, it would be on the latter. Queen Alicent may have her issues with Y/N’s parents, but she is well aware of her fondness for Helaena.

Rhaenyra gives her an encouraging smile as she watches her cross the room, no doubt approving of her cheerful demeanor whether it’s feigned or not. When she turns to walk toward the side of the table Aemond sits at, she finds herself breathless yet again beneath the intensity of his stare. His eye moves up and down the length of her body in assessment. It lingers on the upper part of her body where the detailing of her blood-red dress becomes more intricate, then notices the statement necklace passed down to her from her mother that clings around her neck.

The neckline of the dress plunges down as far as she is allowed without compromising her modesty. When facing her dead-on from their seats at the table, it does not appear scandalous at all, but when Aemond stands from his seat to pull hers out as his mother instructed him to, the height advantage he has on her changes that.

She says in greeting, their gazes locked, “My Prince,” and sits down as soon as the words leave her.

And though she cannot see it, Aemond grips the back of her chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white at the sight of her. He can only see the side of her face at the moment, but she looks…beautiful. The same conflicted feeling that came over him in the training yard settles inside of his chest again as he sits down in the chair beside her.

The second they are both settled in their seats, though, the doors open again, and they all must stand to welcome King Viserys. It merely takes a moment for the guards assisting him to carry his chair around the side of the table and place him in between Alicent and Rhaenyra. His wife is quick to interlace her fingers with his and ask him how he’s feeling, to which he responds by saying he is fine despite the wheezing breaths he takes.

After Alicent says a quick prayer, he wastes no time in looking upon his family with a smile on his face.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luc, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena.” He then turns to look where Y/N and Aemond sit side by side, not looking or speaking to one another. “My son, Aemond, will marry my granddaughter, Y/N, further strengthening the bond within our house. A toast to the young princes and their betrothed.”

Everyone raises their cups.

“And,” Viserys continues, “to Prince Jacaerys, the future Lord of the Tides.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N watches Aegon’s face twist up into a smile that she can only assume means trouble. But, before her son can ruin the evening just as it is beginning, Alicent plasters a warm smile on her face and turns toward her son’s betrothed.

“Princess, may I ask that I help you design your wedding gown? I would love to aid you in your preparations for the ceremony, seeing that it is far too much for one woman to handle alone in a week.”

She nearly choked on the mouthful of wine she was in the midst of swallowing when Alicent began speaking. Even Aemond tenses slightly at the short timeframe between now, the day their betrothal was announced, and the wedding. It isn’t as if it doesn’t make sense to her. Viserys’ health declines daily at a horrifying rate, and the sooner they are wed, the sooner they create peace between their families.

He watches her closely, studying her as she nods and says, “Of course, my Queen. It would be an honor.”

The whole time, Aemond remains unnervingly silent. It isn’t unlike him at all, but for the situation at hand, she finds herself wishing he were the type to initiate conversation of some sort so she may begin to get to know him better. They were friends when they were children, sure, but much has changed in the years that have passed since they last saw one another at Driftmark, and they are not the children they once were.

“I must admit,” Viserys speaks from beside his wife, “It pleases me so to know that I will be able to witness my youngest child’s wedding. My only hope for you both is that you remain happy together, and that you may have a marriage as fulfilling as mine own.”

For the first time since she arrived, her betrothed speaks.

“I am happy to hear that I’ve pleased you, father.”

The night continues on with little issue from then on. Surprisingly, their mothers do not break into an argument from either side of King Viserys, and, save for a few comments from Aegon here or there that cause her brothers to stiffen with stifled anger, everyone gets along rather well. She and Aemond do not speak to each other as she hoped they would, but he is not cruel or perverted like his brother had it been him she was betrothed to.

In fact, when she looks across the table to see her mother and father talking and laughing with each other, to see her brothers talking with their soon-to-be wives, she cannot help but feel happy to be here. It was the last thing she expected to feel when she spoke to her parents earlier, but she welcomes it. Although it has Aegon scowling into his cup of wine, Jacaerys and Helaena dance together in front of the table with wide smiles, spinning around one another and jumping as though they’re still the children who used to play together.

For a brief moment, everything is perfect. Viserys is glad to see his family together in celebration of his grandchildren’s marriages, Rhaenyra and Alicent are being civil toward one another, and, she decides, Aemond isn’t too bad. Granted, he is hardly speaking to her or anyone else for most of the dinner, but that matters not to her. He’ll warm up to her eventually, she hopes.

Her hope is scattered to the wind the second she sees a servant set down the roast pig in front of Aemond’s place at the table. At first, all he does is turn his head slowly to look at where Lucerys sits further down the table. Her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the threat present in his body language and facial expression. Silently, she prays neither of them does anything to ruin the peace that has fallen over their family tonight, but when Lucerys begins to chuckle to himself at the memory of the time he, Jacaerys, and Aegon pranked him by gifting him a pig, all bets are off.

The table rattles from the hand Aemond slaps down against it, causing everyone sitting before it to either jolt in surprise or look up from their plates to watch him rising to stand.

Under her breath, Y/N murmurs, “Aemond…” but he pays her no heed.

His cup is clenched in one fist that raises to present it to the room.

“Final tribute,” he casts a quick glance at her. “To my betrothed.” He then sets his sights on her younger brother and glares at him with every bit of ire he’s kept trapped beneath the surface since they last saw each other. “And her brothers. Jace. Luc. Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” There’s a heavy pause. Tension floods the room in the time he takes to consider his words, his eye refusing to stray from where her brother is sitting at the end of the table. “Strong.”

“Aemond,” his mother is quick to say.

Without thinking, Y/N reverts to the child she was when she, her cousins, and her brothers fought him over his claiming of Vhagar and reaches to pinch him on the leg in warning. It’s hidden beneath the surface of the table where their parents cannot catch notice of it, so when she does it, he is the only one who reacts. Even then, it isn’t much of a reaction. All he does is clench his jaw in annoyance. As though she’s a fly buzzing around his face that he wishes to swat away.

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys—“

Jacaerys marches forward a step and says, his voice unwavering in its command, “I dare you to say that again.”

From where she sits, she can see the corner of Aemond’s mouth twitch with the urge to smirk. That bait has been taken.

“Why? T’was only a compliment.” At this, her brother begins to walk across the room to him, and her Prince takes that as his chance to turn to him. “Do you not think yourself strong?”

The sound of her brother’s fist meeting his face is soft, only heard by her and Otto as they are the closest over everyone else’s sounds of shock. Aemond takes the hit without wobbling where he stands, not even a little, and he turns back to see Jacaerys with a feral grin on his face. All it takes is a shove against his chest and her brother is sent tumbling into his back on the floor. Her mother shouts his name in disappointment at his violence, but neither of them listens.

Chaos has broken out amongst the family for the second time today, and Y/N doesn’t know what to do other than reach out to grab onto his arm.

“Do not touch him,” she hisses, looking up at Aemond from beneath her furrowed brows.

A muscle in his jaw jumps with him clenching it tightly in restraint, looking down not at her but at the bare hand wrapped around his. She holds onto him as though he is her lifeline, and he cannot help but look back over his shoulder at her brother as he breaks free from the guards restraining him to attack again. On instinct, Aemond rips his hand from her forceful grip with little struggle and moves forward to meet him halfway, damning whatever consequences it may have with her.

Just when the two men are about to reach one another with the promise of violence visible on their faces, they are stopped.

Daemon walks between them and forces his stepson to retreat back to where the guards are standing in a row behind him. All it takes is him holding up a hand, telling everyone else to back off, before he spins back around to face Aemond. His hand rests on the hilt of Dark Sister as a silent threat in time with the heavy sigh that sinks his shoulders.

Her father looks at him the way he used to look at her when she would talk back to him as a child. It must infuriate Aemond to be looked at like a petulant child in need of scolding, but he does not say anything. He simply walks off in the direction of the doors.

Y/N pushes her chair out behind her without a care for how Rhaenyra and Alicent call after her to stay, storming out after Aemond with no small amount of anger swirling within her.

The doors open and slam shut behind her as she rushes to catch up with him halfway down the long hallway with a few servants walking in either direction. His hair swishes from side to side with every harsh step, and she longs for nothing more than to wrap it around her fist and yank on it to gain his attention for what he said to her brothers tonight.

She raises her voice at him, “Keligon!” Stop.

Instead of listening, he continues to walk away from her, and she cannot stop herself from grabbing him by the arm to turn him around to face her. Their difference in strength prevents her from moving him, but she does manage to halt him, and that is not an opportunity she ignores.

“Ēdā daor paktot naejot gaomagon bona! Lucerys iksis iā ābrītsos valītsos, iksā vala. Gaomagon daor iderēbagon va zirȳla syt ra kostas daor dohaeragon!” You had no right to do that! Lucerys is a young boy, you are a man. Do not pick on him for things he cannot help!

Aemond whirls around, invading her space with a hand grasping onto her wrist to yank her hand from his forearm. There’s a crazed look in his eye, and he does not care that the servants at the end of the hall are watching despite not being able to understand their language anyway. Let them talk.

“Ēdan daor paktot? Mazēdas ñuha laes! Lo kostan glaesagon mijegon ñuha laes, kostas gryves issare brōztagon iā nādrēsy!” I had no right? He took my eye! If I can live without my eye, he can bear being called a bastard.

Her face scrunches with rage, brows furrowing, and she plants her free hand on his chest to shove him back only to be seized with both of his hands on her shoulders.

“Vestā aōla bona iā laes iksis iā litse odre syt iā zaldrīzes. Lo ao konir sagon drēje, skoro syt ēdruta ao ōregon bisa toliot zȳhon bartos? kesan aderī sagon aōha ābrazȳrys. Aōha ābrazȳrys! Istia daor ōdrikagon ñuha lēkia.” You said yourself that an eye is a fair price for a dragon. If that is true, why must you hold this over his head? I will soon be your wife. Your wife! You must not harm my brother.

The sparks between them flare up into a wildfire incapable of being contained. Two dragons face off in a fight neither of them will back down from, readying themselves to cause one another harm at a second’s notice. She can feel the heat of his rapid exhales puffing against her face as they are locked in an intense stare, and his hands squeeze her shoulders hard enough to leave bruises behind on her delicate skin.

Aemond says, “Lo iksā naejot sagon ñuha ābrazȳrys, skoro syt ēdruta ao mīsagon lī qilōni ōdrikagon nyke? Lo daor syt Lucerys, aōha valzȳrys would daor jurnegon bisa ñuhoso.” If you are to be my wife, why must you defend those who hurt me? If not for Lucerys, your husband would not look this way.

“Nyke hae se ñuhoso ao jurnegon! laes iā daor, iksā iā gevie vala! Kostilus bisa kostagon emagon issare vestās ondoso sir lo ao jenitis naejot ȳdragon naejot nyke tubī!” I like the way you look! Eye or no, you are a beautiful man. Perhaps this may have been said by now if you bothered to speak to me today. “Nyke shifang bona ziry pryjatan ao, yn ao brōztagon zirȳ nādrēsy ēlī.” I understand that he struck you, but you called them bastards first.

“Issi nādrēsy!” They are bastards!

She rips herself out of his clutches and reaches up to grab him by the chin, forcing him to meet her gaze and listen to what she says next.

“Ñuha muña se kepa sia daor wed skori īlen vēttan, se kesīr iksan. Aōha ābrazȳrys. Gaomas bona jenigon ao? Kessa bisa gaomagon ao hen issare lēda nyke? Kessa ziry jenigon ao naejot qogralbar aōha nādrēsy ābrazȳrys?” My mother and father were not wed when I was made, and here I am. Your wife. Does that bother you? Will this keep you from being with me? Will it bother you to fuck your bastard wife?

This seems to stop him for an instant. It causes his eye to turn wide and his nostrils to flare with the strange mixture of anger and attraction he feels for her at this moment, and he is too stuck on what she said to care or notice that she is still holding his chin. Although he loathes her brothers, he cannot deny the effect she has on him. Every potential match his mother has introduced to him has been a simpering, bashful high-born lady who assumes that their skill in needlepoint or singing will woo him. None of them presented him with a challenge. They all gave way under the slightest bit of pressure, but she doesn’t. She never has.

The sweet scent of the bathing oil she used while soaking in the tub in her chambers clings to her half-up, half-down braided updo. It takes everything he has to not reach up to run it through his fingers. He isn’t sure why the urge comes to mind, but as soon as he notices the citrus scent, he has to pull his chin out of her hand and put a distance between them to keep himself at bay.

He shakes his head at her.

“Emā iā vaogenka relgos syt iā riña.” You have a dirty mouth for a lady.

She counters back without missing a beat, “Iksā olvie nūmāzma syt iā dārilaros.” You are quite mean for a prince.

Aemond steps back again, allowing his eye to roam up and down her figure in a lingering, selfish stare. The neckline of her dress allows him a generous glimpse at her breasts, pressed up against the fabric in a way that begs him to tear it off of her. What she failed to realize when he ignored her throughout their family dinner was that he could not say the things he wished to in the presence of her parents and brothers.

All he offers in response is a, “Hmm,” and turns on his heels to walk off down the hallway without her.

For the next three days, she does not see Prince Aemond, but it isn’t his fault. If anything, it is hers.

She refused to leave her chambers for the entire first day following their betrothal. The events of the day prior had been chaotic enough to provide her excitement for the week, so she resigned herself to a day of solitude her mother allowed due to the whirlwind of drama from their family dinner. If not for her marriage to Aemond being planned, her family likely would have left to return to Dragonstone after the fight broke out between her brothers and her betrothed, but Rhaenyra was quick to reassure her that they were not going anywhere.

The comfort of her mother’s warm hand stroking her back as she hugged her to her chest, pressing the swell of her pregnant belly into her abdomen, soothed the nerves that plagued her in anticipation of the wedding.

“Your betrothal does not mean we are abandoning you, my love. I promise to stay here by your side until you become accustomed to living in King's Landing again.”

They talked and spent time together that first day, just the two of them, until the sun faded below the edge of the horizon. The topic of conversation varied between gossiping about what happened at the family dinner and Rhaenyra answering her myriad of questions about marriage. No one sent for them or dared to disrupt the sanctuary created within the walls of her room. It wasn’t until her brothers and Daemon came knocking that they were forced to come back to reality.

The second day, she read two modestly-sized books, walked to her brother Jacaerys’ chambers to pass the time with a quick conversation, and wasted at least thirty minutes soaking in the tub until the water went cold. Other than that, there wasn’t much she could do to quell her boredom without leaving her rooms.

On the third day, her father forced her out of bed and dragged her down to the Dragonpit, insisting that a ride on Vermithor would lift her spirits. And it did. She thanked Daemon the minute she landed back in the dragon pit where he waited for her, stranded without his beloved Caraxes there for him to fly. All he did was throw an arm around her shoulder and tell her they would practice in the training yard next. This set her on edge at first, wondering if she would run into Aemond for the first time since he left her in the hallway, but he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he too was sulking and isolating himself in his chambers.

Today, she finally tired of hiding herself away with nothing to occupy her and made her way to the Godswood with her favorite book from the library tucked under her arm.

Y/N sits beneath the Weirwood tree, back pressed up against the thick trunk and book flipped open to rest on her thighs. It has been at least an hour since she arrived if the position of the sun in the sky changing where the shadows of the leaves fall has anything to say for it, and she has yet to look up from her story. The warm breeze blows at her face to keep her from feeling too warm in the arid summer. It has not rained in a moon, and every blade of grass beneath her as she walked up to her favorite tree was brittle from nature’s neglect.

Distantly, she hears the soft footfalls of someone crossing the same brittle grass she had to reach the tree, but she doesn’t lift her gaze from the book to greet them. It is most Queen Alicent’s most trusted lady in waiting coming to fetch her for wedding preparations. Either that or it’s Lucerys coming back to bug her as he had earlier because he was bored.

The last thing she expected was to hear Aemond’s voice.

All he says is, “Hello, niece.”

When she lifts her eyes from the pages of her book to see him, the sun halos him from behind, turning the edges of his silver hair warm from its marigold rays, and before she can stop herself, a slight smile finds its way to her lips. She hadn’t been lying the other night when they argued in the hallway. She does find him handsome, and there are fond memories from her childhood with him far different from those which he shares with her brothers. There was never any cruelty between them. He enjoyed that she was learning to wield a sword and often asked her to practice with him before the drama of their family pulled them apart.

Before she can get a word in, he’s extending his arm to present a small, green velvet box to her. By the looks of it alone, she deduces that it is jewelry of some sort, but she won’t know what exactly it is until she opens it.

“What’s this for?” she asks and takes the box into her possession.

It sits, cradled in her lap on top of the book, until she pushes the lid open. A necklace. Gold with modest rubies set along the chain until a slightly larger one, set in the mouth of a roaring dragon, hangs from the center of it. In truth, it is stunning. She has never owned nor seen a piece of jewelry like it in her mother’s collection, and it’s hard to refrain from asking him to put it on her straight away.

“My mother told me I must court you,” he says, voice even and comically unexpressive. “I’d like to see you wear it for our wedding ceremony.” Then, having heard of her desire for a traditional Valyrian ceremony through Queen Alicent, he clarifies, “The public one.”

She looks up at him again.

“This is what you call courting, my Prince?”

Of course, the gift is better than what any other potential suitor could have given her, but, for the sake of torturing him, she couldn’t resist the urge to say it. Marrying a man who cannot be bothered to spend time with her or engage in conversation with her is not in her plans. If she is to become his wife, he’ll need to work for it, and as pretty as the necklace may be, she’d prefer actually getting to know him over a gift.

Aemond tilts his head to the side as though in curiosity.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. What else would you like me to do, Princess?”

Without further ado, the velvet jewelry box is shut and placed on the ground to the left side of her. The book remains flipped open on her lap to the page she was last reading from, and she glanced up and down between it and him.

“Well, you could ask me what I’m reading first,” she suggests. “I know we were friends as children, but it has been many years since then. All I’m asking is to know my husband before we’re wed. To do so, we would have to actually talk to one another for a change.”

There’s a stretch of silence following this.

All she hears is the breeze ruffling through the leaves of the treetop above and the sound of distant conversation between servants as they stare at each other. He narrows his eye at her, then smiles to himself and closes the distance between them with two long strides. The thick roots of the tree serve as seats for them to lounge upon, and he takes the one emerging from the ground right beside her as his seat of choice. It looks a little funny from her perspective to see him awkwardly perched on the room of the great tree with his arms braced on his knees and his focus solely set on her.

“What are you reading?” Aemond then asks.

She closes the large book with a soft “thump” sound and leans back against the trunk with her head tilted back just so to allow her to look up at him.

“I found it the last time I was here. In the library. Septa Marlow ripped it from my hands before I could read a single word, so, of course, I snuck back in later to see what all the fuss was for.” He fights the urge to smile at that. Her fingers, decorated in rings passed down to her from her mother, curl around the edges of the book and raise it to present it to Aemond as though it is a prize as sought after as the Iron Throne. “A Caution for Young Girls. The story of Lady Coryanne Wylde. After discovering its contents, I soon understood why the septa tried to keep it from me. It was far too scandalous for a young maiden such as myself to read.”

A scoff comes from the Prince as he takes it into his possession and flips it over in his hands to inspect it.

“I have only ever heard of it. I prefer history and philosophy.”

She perks up at the opportunity to gush about her favorite book to someone.

“It’s about her erotic adventures before becoming a septa in Oldtown later in her life. It’s quite entertaining. I rather enjoy reading books separate from my studies. It’s like entering a different world or living a different life.”

Under his breath, she can hear him mutter, “Erotic adventures,” incredulously to himself as though it is the most ridiculous topic for a book he has ever heard, and it earns a snorting laugh from her.

“What? Your brother can frequent brothels on the Street of Silk as much as he’d like yet I cannot read about it in place of having the freedoms only given to men in this world?”

The wind blows strands of his hair out of place enough for her to reach up and tuck it back where it belongs without thinking. Her sudden movement almost caused him to jerk away in blind anticipation of having to react physically before he forces himself to remain still. After a second, his body begins to relax at the feeling of his fingers running through his hair and pushing it back into place where it previously laid. When her hand comes back to rest in her lap, he manages to find his voice.

“You will not have to read about it for much longer, though, will you?”

Suddenly, the eye contact they maintain becomes unbearable for the both of them. Y/N stops herself from shifting in place in discomfort due to the strange feeling between her thighs at the implication of his words, and Aemond cannot ignore the thrill it gives him to see the effect he has on her.

Perhaps this marriage will be easier than she previously thought.

Let me know your thoughts! Part Two with the wedding, smut, and drama will be written shortly.

Taglist: @mvrylee

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #fanfiction

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m0llygunn · 11 months

Text

It Gets Worse (Eddie Munson x fem!reader)

Part 2 to Same Old Song and Dance

Summary: As the rhythm of your never ending dance with Eddie speeds up, things change, but is it really for the worse?

Tropes: bully!eddie (kind of), mean!eddie (not rlly tho), enemies to lovers Warnings: 18+, mature language, pet names (princess), oral (male receiving), smut. Authors Notes: thank you to everyone who reblogged/interacted with the first part!! it was the second thing I ever posted on here so it was very cool for me. I hope you like part 2. Part 3 soon! wc: 6.2k

tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73

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“It was a poor lapse in judgment. That’s all. If he’s suddenly nicer to me, good. If he stays his same undignified self, fine.” You say, scribbling down the notes you missed.

You were ‘sick’ yesterday. After what happened with Eddie, you had to be.

“I think you’re missing one more option there.” Nancy says, eyebrows turned up in concern.

“I’m not.” You shrug.

“You are.” She persists.

“Fine, Nance. What am I missing?” You say, putting your pencil down and giving her your full attention.

“He gets worse.”

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Eddie left your house pretty quickly after it all went down. Probably desperate to get home and ‘rub one out’ as he so eloquently put it.

You were fine after he left, still riding the post orgasm high.

It was only after you sat down, taking out your school work, that the worksheet from Mrs. Ward's class knocked you back down to earth.

You let Eddie Munson, the boy who has terrorized you since elementary school, finger you. And the worst part, it was good. Great, even.

So naturally, you were sick the next day. You enjoyed yourself an Eddie Munson free day from the safety of your bed.

Around 7 that night, Nancy called you telling you that Eddie was asking where you were at school. And of course, Nancy with her inquisitive— and extremely persuasive mind, got you to spill your guts. She knows all about your ongoing hostility with Eddie, but for some reason, what happened between you two didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

In exchange for the gory details of your afternoon with Eddie, she agreed to meet you on the bleachers before school started to borrow her notes.

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Eddie sauntered into class as if he wasn’t late. He wasn’t phased as Mrs. Ward scolded him. With a muttered ‘Sorry’, he stepped into the classroom, eyes narrowed on you, with a buzzing excitement coursing through his veins and an extra pep in his step.

You had managed to avoid Eddie the whole day up until now.

His eyes burned into you from the minute he appeared in the doorway. The only thing you could do was sit up straighter and pretend like you couldn’t see him.

Even as he purposefully passed in front of your desk, knocking his fist on the surface as he rounded to his own seat, you pretended he was nothing but a pesky house fly that just barely got on your nerves with its ceaseless buzzing.

When a note landed on your desk only minutes after his arrival, you took your time opening it.

‘Where were you?’ was scribbled out in red ink. It didn’t deserve your response.

Instead, you gathered your hair in your hands, swirling it around your fingers, tying it into a tight bun at the base of your neck. Pulling out a few pieces of hair to frame your face, careful to make sure no strands were inherently ‘pullable'.

When Mrs. Ward dedicates the remaining portion of class to working with your partners, you close your eyes inhaling deeply before turning.

“Why were you asking Nancy where I was yesterday? Are you, like, obsessed with me now?” You say, beating Eddie to the chase. His eyes open wide, mouth dropping slightly, as his cheeks tinge pink.

“No.” He says quietly, eyes dropping to his desk where his notebook lays blank, page ripped in half from the note he threw at you.

“So what then?” You snap.

He shrugs.

You weren’t expecting him to give up just like that. You jumped the gun on an unexpecting target. The dance is only fun with two people.

Silence between you two, you set your worksheet down on his desk, swiveling your body to face him.

As you cross your legs under his desk, your foot rubs his shin and he doesn’t even make any of his usual stupid comments. He doesn’t even look up.

So you do it again. And again. You let your foot trail up from his ankle all the way to his calf as you scribble ideas down on your worksheet.

When you hook your foot around his leg you’re surprised when you feel fingers grip your bare ankle.

“Fucking quit it.” He hisses, lifting your leg higher until your knee hits the bottom of his desk in a thud.

“Eddie. I’m wearing a skirt. Let. Go.” You snap, trying to break his grip.

“Oh, but I thought you liked attention?” He scoffs, eyes set on you harshly.

“Let. Go.” You repeat, kicking your leg trying to free yourself but his grip only gets stronger.

“You like attention so much, princess, that your giant ego just assumed I was obsessed with you, huh?” He says, amusement rising in his blazen eyes as he watches the way your brows pinch.

You kick your leg again and his grip becomes impossibly tight, his fingertips nearly bruising into your skin.

“You’re hurting me, Eddie.” You hiss, your voice gaining the attention of a few surrounding students.

His grip loosens immediately, dropping your ankle from his hand, and he makes fast work of kicking his chair back and standing from the desk.

Mrs. Ward yells after him as he leaves the class but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back.

You don’t go after him and he doesn’t return to class either. The bell rings and you pack up your stuff, eyes flickering to the door waiting for him to come back for his notebook. He doesn’t though, so you close the notebook, stacking it on top of your own books before exiting the class.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You weren’t going to actively seek him out to give him his notebook back. You were just going to hand it to him in passing. The only issue is, you haven’t seen him.

“Hey. Your name's Gareth, right?” You say, walking up to the boy as he closes his locker.

“Yeah.” He says, smirking as he looks at you.

“Oh, I’m-”

“We know who you are.” Another boy, who you think is named Jeff, says from the other side of Gareth.

“Eddie’s not around. Was pretty pissed off, actually. Something to do with you, I’m assuming?” Gareth says, brows lifting as he awaits your response.

“Why would it be because of me? He’s the one with the problem.” You scoff, furrowing your brows angrily. Gareth's smirk drops immediately, turning timid under your fire.

“Hey, hey. Sorry. We just hear about you all the time, it’s exhaust—”

“Gareth.” Jeff cuts him off, shooting him a look.

“Dude, c’mon.” Gareth says to Jeff. Jeff shoots him another pointed look before they start silently communicating with each other through looks.

“Where is he?” You huff, getting annoyed.

“Your guess is as good as ours.” Gareth says with a shrug.

“Thanks.” You scoff, spinning on your feet, mad at yourself for even bothering to try and find Eddie.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The notebook’s been taunting you all day, especially now as you sit in your room trying to get your homework done. There it is peeking out from your bag.

Giving into temptation, you grab the book, taking it to your bed.

Flipping open the first page, it’s just doodles. Flipping another page, more doodles, another page, even more doodles.

Skipping a few pages you finally find some scribbled messy writing that you can just barely make out. Something about someone named mage? Something about… a dwarf?

You skip more pages and it’s the same nonsensical writing with something about a sorcerer until it clicks. You find a page titled hellfire and you realize it has to be that nerdy fantasy game he plays with his little friends.

You quickly get bored. You were hoping for something juicy, something that would provide you with ammunition against him. It’s mostly just a lot of drawings of tits and weird looking demon-y things.

You slide the notebook under your pillow before going back to your homework.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A knock at your window startles you, heart pounding rapidly against your ribs. When you see eyes through the gap in the curtain your heart nearly stops until you recognize them. Then your heart speeds up again.

You go back to reading your book, kicking your legs back and forth behind you.

He knocks again and you wave. He points to the lock and you shrug, going back to your book, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

A third knock. It’s much more aggressive and shakes the shutters making you jump. If your dad was actually home, that would have woken him but he’s not. It’s just you and you know Eddie knows it too because of the empty driveway.

“Jesus Christ.” You mutter to yourself, pushing off your bed.

You unlock the window and he’s quickly pushing it open.

“Notebook.” He says flatly, holding his hand out.

“Notebook?” You question innocently.

“Notebook.” He repeats harshly, making you clench your jaw. Who does he think he is, coming to your house and talking to you like that?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say, turning around and going back to laying on your stomach with your book.

“You have my notebook.” He states, still perching outside.

“Why would I have your stupid notebook?” You sneer, rolling your eyes.

“You have it.” He sighs, pushing the window open as wide as it can go.

“I don’t even see why you would need it at this hour, I never took you as a studier.” You say indifferently, flipping the page of your book.

You watch out of your periphery as he crawls through your window seamlessly, landing gently on the carpeted floor.

“Shoes off.” You say but he ignores you, stepping further into the room. “Eddie, I said shoes off.” You repeat more sternly. He mumbles something that you don’t quite catch before he’s kicking off his shoes.

He moves to the side of the bed, standing with his arms crossed, fingers tapping on his forearm. He exhales through his nose in an almost growl and you happily keep your attention on your book as you get him all worked up.

“Princess, I know you have it, just hand it over so I can go.” He snarls.

“No.” You say stubbornly, eyes still glued to the pages of your book.

You see him turn, head darting around the room before landing on your bag next to your desk. He swiftly moves to the bag, picking it up, and before you have time to protest, he’s dumping the contents on the floor.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” You hiss, throwing your book to the side and jumping up from your bed.

He uses his foot to push around your bag’s contents before giving up since it’s not there. You lower to your knees, picking up your stuff hastily and putting it back in your bag.

You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you as you gather your things and you're waiting for a snide remark, you know it’s coming.

“You look pretty on your knees like that, princess.” He says, voice low making your stomach squeeze.

You look up at him with furrowed brows, and his eyes are set on you, looking down the slope of his nose, watching intently.

“Perv.” You scoff.

“Careful, princess. I wasn’t the one throwing myself at you in class today.” He says, laughing meanly.

“I wasn’t doing that.” You retort, feeling your cheeks burn hot. You focus your attention on fitting some loose pages back in your folder that he scattered everywhere.

“So what were you doing then?” He says amusedly.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” You shrug your shoulders trying your best to hold onto your attitude.

“C’mon, princess. Don’t play dumb, I’m not into bimbos.” He scoffs, his familiar teasing tone slowly coming back and you do your best to hide your excitement at the prospect of Eddie rejoining this little thing you two do.

You pause your actions before flickering your gaze to him, looking up through your eyelashes as you sit a little taller.

“So what are you into then?” You question, your voice barely above a whisper, purposefully breathy. His eyes connect with yours before dropping lower, licking his lips in the process.

“Pretty girls on their knees for me.” He smirks, his freshly wet lips glistening, looking all too inviting and it almost makes you squirm.

“I’m only on my knees cause you’re a dick.” You mumble under your breath, zipping up your bag.

“Cause my dick- what, sweetheart?” He laughs.

“You are a dick.” You say louder, clenching your jaw at his stupid excuse of a joke.

“C’mon, princess. Lighten up.” He says, stepping forward. You lean back, his crotch being way too close to you, but then he drops, crouching to your level, his face only inches from yours.

You pause, waiting to see what he’s doing, but he just looks at you. His eyes are unmeeting of your own, choosing to flutter over your features before bringing a hand to your face, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Notebook, princess.” He sings softly, reminding you why he’s here.

“It’s at school.” You lie, raising your brows challengingly.

“No it’s not.” He says confidently.

“Yes, it is.” You argue, furrowing your brows at him.

“No, it’s not, princess.” He sighs and you feel his breath fan over your lips. It takes everything in you not to look.

“Eddie, how the fuck would you know?” You seethe, getting frustrated. You’re supposed to be leading this game, you’re the one on your knees.

“Cause I looked in your locker. I know it’s not in there.” He says coolly, unaffected.

“How- What do you mean, you looked in my locker?” You say bewildered, fists clenching at your side.

“I know it’s not in there, so it must be somewhere in here.” He says, ignoring your question, gaze moving around your room before settling back on you. He winks before standing, his crotch appearing directly in your face until he spins on his heels walking towards your bookshelf. “Gonna make me tear apart your pretty room looking for it, princess?” He taunts, starting to pull out books from the shelf at random.

“It’s not there.” You say firmly.

“Well maybe I’ll take a look just to be sure. Especially since we both know that you like to lie.” He says, shifting around trinkets on the top shelf.

“I don’t lie.” You huff but he ignores you, continuing to poke and prod at your things.

“Oh look, princess has a princess.” He teases, lifting up a ceramic ornament your dad gave you for your fifth birthday.

“If you break that I’ll kick your ass.” You threaten, standing up and moving to his side, watching him with crossed arms.

“Kinky.” He teases, putting the ornament down before opening your jewelry box.

“Your notebook wouldn't even fit in there.” You say, rolling your eyes. Now he’s just touching stuff to piss you off.

“You never know, princess.” He replies, rifling around, tangling your necklaces in the process before you swat his hand away.

He steps back, looking around your room again.

“Eddie, give it a rest.” You say, exhaling all the air from your lungs in a huff.

“Princess, give me my notebook.” He sings, before bounding to your dresser. His hand hovers over the top drawer and he looks back at you with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare.” You hiss.

“It could be in here?” He says innocently. “Everybody knows that the underwear drawer is the best drawer for hiding stuff.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“It’s not in there.” You state.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I took a peek?” He says, fingertips taping on the handle. You purse your lips, he wants to look at your panties so bad, fine.

“Go right ahead, Eddie. Live up to your perv reputation.” You say, jetting a hip out. He rolls his eyes, before turning, moving on to a different part of your room.

“I wonder what kind of dirty secrets the princess keeps in her bedside table.” Eddie taunts.

There are no dirty secrets in your bedside table but you’re sure even if he opened that drawer and found nothing he’d still spin it into something.

“Must be a pretty important notebook for you to be doing all this, Eddie.” You say, trying to distract him.

He turns to you, eyes scanning over you, sizing you up.

“You must like me being in your room princess, you know, considering you could just hand over the notebook.” He retorts, eyebrows raised in challenge.

“What? Don’t want me reading your precious notebook? That why you need it so bad?” You taunt.

“Princess, if you must know, I need it for something.” He says, lips pulled in a flat line, unbothered.

“Something? That’s not very specific.” You laugh.

“I didn’t know you were so interested in my life?” He says, perking up.

“I’m not.” You scoff.

“Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day it’ll come true.” He smirks and you want to smack it right off his face.

“Well, you’re the one who was asking about me yesterday.” You spit, words rolling off your tongue.

“You were sick the day before, god forbid I have a heart and a conscience.” He spits back.

The way your own heart speeds up leaves you stumped for words and he picks it up immediately, choosing to double down on you.

“You weren’t sick though, were you? No. Princess was playing hooky. Who were you trying to avoid, hm?” He says, stepping closer to you.

“No one.” You say quietly, body turning hot under his interrogation.

“That sounds like another lie to me. It’s hypocritical, princess, to make me try and admit something while you can’t tell me one honest thing.” He says, voice all too daunting for your liking.

“I’m not lying.” You whisper.

His demeanor changes, all smirks and taunting eyes gone as he settles into something serious.

“Did you regret it? Is that it?” He says quietly, voice staying low but he doesn’t step any closer.

“Regret what?” You deflect, buying time for your heart to stop fluttering so hard.

He steps closer.

“Princess, what did I tell you about playing dumb?” You hear his voice vibrate from his chest, words striking something inside of you like a match.

“You said you like pretty girls on their knees better.” You coo, looking at him through your lashes. Keeping eye contact, you sink to your knees in front of him.

You watch as his eyes widen and it spurs you on. You’re holding the reins now, you’re in control again. Letting your fingertips hook through his belt loops, you pull him forward until he’s right where you want him.

What surprises you is the way he brings his hand to your cheek. It’s soft and almost tender. You could make the mistake of leaning into it, but you don’t.

“Princess, what do you want from me?” He whispers softly. His round eyes twinkle in your bedroom lights, captivating you entirely.

“I don’t want anything from you.” You purr, fingers still hooked in his belt loops keeping him in place. His hand on your cheek turns into a thumb running soft circles against your skin.

“Princess.” He sighs, his chest deflating.

“Do you want me to now?” You ask quietly, letting your eyes flicker to his belt line, referring to his words from the last time you tried to get on your knees for him.

“I didn’t come here for this.” He says, mouth moving in a tight line like he’s fighting some internal battle.

“Yeah, you came here for your notebook.” You state, raising your brows. “But are you gonna let me suck your dick?”

With his jeans tightening by the second his mouth still mulls back and forth, his thumb running soft circles on your cheek. He swallows and you know he’s made up his mind.

“S’all yours, princess.” He says, punctuating his words with a gentle tap to your cheek.

Unhooking your fingers from his belt loops, you walk them to the buckle, the jangle of metal filling the room as you work at it. He watches you intently, eyes staring heatedly when you finally get it undone.

“You gonna let me touch you?” You say with a teasing lilt, copying the same words he said to you. He catches your tease, lips turning up, smiling at you with amusement. “C’mon, Eddie. Use your words, I know you got ‘em in that idiot mouth of yours.” You add, digging in further with your mockery.

“You think you're teasing me, but that’s hot, princess. Keep talking.” He says, voice low and taunting as his narrowed eyes flickering over you.

“How many times have you touched yourself thinking about all those pretty noises I made for you, Eddie?” You coo with a breathy sweetness. His smile wavers but the amused sparkle in his darkening eyes remains strong.

“You don’t want to know, princess.” He replies carefully.

“I do, Eddie, that’s why I asked.” You let your fingers drag down his clothed thighs, he still hasn’t given you an answer, so you don’t go any further. “It’s barely been two days, how many times could a boy possibly cum?” You ask coyly.

“Got a high turnover rate, princess. Can pop one boner after another if something really gets me going.” He laughs and you let your lips turn up at his ridiculousness.

“You didn’t answer me, Eddie.” you say, trailing your nails back up the denim on his thighs. He shuts his mouth harshly before opening it again to speak.

“Anywhere between 2 to 10 times, whatever you think the best answer is, princess. You’re the smart one here.” You laugh and his cheeks tinge pink just enough for you to notice.

“Eddie, I meant my other question. Are you gonna let me touch you?” You say, dipping your head to look at him through your lashes again. His blush deepens as his eyes drink you in, absorbing everything from the way you look at him to the way you speak.

“Princess, I always want you to touch me.” He whispers, his voice small, yet genuine, and it makes your stomach flutter terribly.

“Is that so?” You say feigning indifference, fingers ghosting over the button of his jeans.

“Please.” He says breathily, swallowing thickly as his eyes follow your dainty movements.

To have him so willing at your fingertips. To have him say please. To have him. It stirs something in you that it’s never done before. None of the teasing, hair pulling, name calling, none of that has made you feel anything but red hot anger. But this… this isn’t anger. You’re still burning, but it’s not anger anymore.

His fingers smooth your hair, pulling you from your reverie, drawing your attention up to him. His eyes are waiting for you, softer than ever. It makes you want to scream. Makes you want to lash out. Stomp your foot. Throw something.

But you don’t do that. Instead you undo the button to his jeans and lower the zipper.

“You okay, princess?” Eddie whispers, breaking the silence.

“What?” You snarl, scrunching your face, glaring at him. Overcompensating with an edge. Hiding behind a thin disguise.

“You just went quiet. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says calmly despite the reckless edge you just threw at him. His fingers pass over the top of your head gently, smoothing your hair again.

“Eddie, I can make my own decisions, thank you very much.” You scoff.

“Jesus Christ. I try to be nice and this is what I get?” He huffs but there’s barely any malice behind it, just enough to rile you up.

“Eddie. You just fucking said I was the smart one here, don’t you think I can make my own decisions?” You retort harshly.

“I know you can, princess.” He says exasperatedly. “Fuck, I think I liked it better when you were quiet, can we go back to that?” He groans.

“Fuck you.” You spit aggressively, hands starting to tug down his denim. You half expected him to stop you but he doesn’t. Instead, when you get them down his thighs, he helps you, kicking them off to the side.

Left in his plaid boxers, you hook your fingers around the waist band, and look up to him for permission. With a nod, you pull them down, fabric pooling around his feet.

He bobs against his lower belly before settling in front of you. You try not to react, you can’t give him that. The mean part of you was hoping he’d be small just so you could use it against him, another part of you glows with excitement because he’s not. He’s perfect and you would never tell him that.

You take him in your hand and immediately his breath catches in his throat. Barely moving, a whimper rises in his chest. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

You spit in your hand, bringing it to his length, spreading it all over with both hands, making sure he’s nice and wet.

“Fuck.” He groans and you can’t help the amused smile that spreads on your lips.

“Eddie, I’ve barely even started, and look at you.” You tease, his cock jolting in your hands.

“Keep talking, princess.” He whispers, sounding almost desperate.

“You like when I talk?” You laugh. You start pumping slowly with your one hand, dragging back and forth over his hardness. “You just said you wanted me to be quiet.”

He shakes his head aggressively, eyes shutting.

“Like it when you talk, princess.” He moans.

You sit up straighter on your knees, bringing your mouth to his tip, licking just the head. His eyes shoot open, gaze immediately setting on you.

“You like that, Eddie?” You tease and he nods his head dumbly. “Want me to do it again?” He nods again.

You place a kiss to his tip, pulling back to watch his reaction but he doesn’t have any. In fact, he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

“Eddie, you gotta breathe, can’t have you passing out just from getting your dick sucked.” You taunt. His mouth opens, sucking in a breath, his chest rising and falling harshly as he lets it out. “Look at you, such a good listener tonight.” You laugh, his dick kicking up in your hand again. You shake your head in amusement before placing another kiss to his tip.

You pull away entirely, pushing yourself off your knees, moving to your bed. He’s clearly not fit for standing right now.

When you sit, turning back to Eddie, he’s still standing in the middle of your room, hands brought to his face as he rubs aggressively.

“Eddie.” You call, getting his attention. He spins, pulling his hands away from his face, his bangs sticking up in all different directions. You pat the spot next to you and he’s quick to claim it.

“That’s better isn’t it?” You say as he lays down, hair spanning over your pillow.

“Better.” He says, voice cracking.

You settle between his legs, mouth watering as you take him in your hand again.

You dribble spit over the tip, letting it fall over the head before gathering it, spreading it with a twist of both hands up and down his cock.

“Gonna let me use my mouth now, Eddie? Or are you still desperate to hear me talk?” You tease, gaze finding his blown out eyes.

He nods but you tut.

“Wanna hear you say it, Eddie.” You coo, letting your eyes flicker over him. You stop your hand movements when he takes too long to reply.

“Princess, please put your mouth on my cock. Please.” He says, words practically a whine spilling from his lips.

You nestle closer to him between his thighs, dipping your face, licking up the underside of his cock before opening your mouth and letting it hit against your tongue.

You watch him carefully, reveling in the way he’s falling apart for you. His chest rises and sinks in steady pants, mouth set agape, as his wide eyes watch your every move.

Closing your lips around him, you let him slide in just enough for you to swirl your tongue around his tip.

“Fuck” He groans. You hum, not missing the way his thighs clench as you do.

His hand finds your head, combing your hair back, resting his palm against the side of your face. Most guys start pushing on the back of your head, but Eddie doesn’t.

Flattening your tongue, you take him deeper in your mouth, twisting your hands around him and meeting your mouth halfway up his length.

His other hand takes purchase on the mattress, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the comforter. It’s completely dichotomous to the gentle grip he holds on your face. It’s almost laughable.

You bring your head up and down before pulling off with a pop, spitting on the tip again, making sure your hands glide slickly along his length.

“Is that good, Eddie?” You ask before returning your mouth to his cock. Your added spit makes a slick, wet noise as you move your fists up and down on his length.

“Fuck, princess. S’really good.” He gasps breathily, his stomach tensing as your thumb wipes at the precum gathering on his tip.

You smile before parting your lips, taking him back in your mouth.

You take him further this time, his cock hitting the back of your throat and he whimpers pitifully. You do it again and his fingertips press in the slightest bit harder against your face, still not pushing you, just translating his pleasure through his touch.

You hollow your cheeks, sinking harder and faster, bobbing your head. His fingers weave into your hair gently and it spurs you on. You take him deeper, relaxing your throat, letting him slide right in until your lips meet your fingers at his base.

When you do it again, you push yourself a little too hard, gagging yourself, sputtering as you rise. With a deep, broken moan Eddie’s hips follow your mouth, only settling back to the bed when you pull off of him with a gasp as you catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ.” He whimpers under his breath.

You feel his cock pulsing in your fist, his hand tugging ever so gently on the roots of your hair and you start to think you might just like this too much.

You take him in your mouth again, all the way back to your throat, removing your hands entirely until your nose nestles against the wispy hairs above his shaft.

You exploringly let your fingertips tiptoe to his balls, taking them in one hand, massaging them gently.

“F-fuck. Fuck.” Eddie groans, stomach tensing sharply, his thighs squeezing against you.

You jerk your head on his cock, continuing to massaging his balls using the mess of wetness leaking down his shaft to help guide your skillful movements.

It’s not long before every bob of your head is being chased by the rise of his hips. He’s desperate for release, you both know it.

You flicker your eyes to him and he’s never looked more scattered. Bangs disheveled, cheeks rosy, brows pinched, half lidded eyes all dark and pleading, just for you. You do like it too much, you really, really do.

His gaze meets yours, flickering between you and your mouth.

“Doing so fucking good princess. Don’t stop. Please.” He whines. You hum contentedly, sinking onto him, hands still working his balls as they tense in your grasp.

His hand in your hair starts to sting as he pulls at it but he still doesn’t push you, he wouldn’t do that unless you told him to, you’re sure of it now.

His moans and whimpers rise, getting higher and longer, composing a symphony just for you. It comes to a crescendo when you take him all the way to his base again. His hips rise from the mattress, cock choking you, and you swallow around him, making him cry out a desperate moan that simmers into a broken whimper.

You know he’s close.

You hum to yourself, gulping him into your mouth, meeting his quick, uneven thrusts.

“I’m g-gonna cum.” He says in a strangled moan. His hand in your hair tugs impossibly hard, trying to pull you from him but you don’t let him. He doesn’t make your decisions, you do. He should know better.

You quicken your pace, bobbing your head and working him in your hands. The obscene, slicked noises coming from your movements fill the room, accompanying his moans, and he breaks.

For a moment, you watch him as he falls apart and it’s beautiful. Eyes rolling closed, face contorted in pleasure. It’s undeniably beautiful. You don’t let yourself drink in his beauty for too long though, that would be like admitting something and you wouldn’t do that so you refocus on the task at hand (and mouth).

Cum spurting to the back of your throat, you take him deeper a final time, swallowing it all down until you can’t. You pull up, feeling some leaking for the corners of your lips but you keep going, working him through his release as his cock throbs against your tongue.

He cums so hard that he’s babbling different versions of praises intermixed with your name. Your real name. Not princess, and it takes you by surprise.

“Fucking shit. F-Fuck.” He whimpers, hips sinking back to the mattress, stuttering. You slow your movements before pulling off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’.

His cock is shiny, the cum that didn’t get swallowed, gathering around his base. You flicker your eyes to him and he’s watching you now with a glazed over stare. Dipping your mouth to him one last time, you lick up the pearly shine and he looks at you like he might explode.

You pull away with a laugh, wiping your mouth.

His body deflates, melting into the mattress as he throws his head back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut.

“Holy shit.” He groans.

You shift in between his thighs, hands disgustingly wet and sticky so you reach up, wiping both of them down the front of his shirt, leaving behind the glistening wet print of 10 fingers on the black fabric. You expect him to say something but his eyes remain closed, breathing still heavy.

With a gap between the two of you, you lay down beside him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Your eyes move up, taking in the rosiness of his face and the way it spreads down his neck. You even take the time to notice the delicate way his thick lashes lay atop his cheeks.

“You better not fall asleep here.” You sneer, shaking your head, forcing yourself to stop staring before he notices.

“Why not? Daddy’s not home is he?” He says, breathing still heavy.

“Don’t be a dick.” You retort. He pauses, sucking in a deep, steadying breath and letting it out.

“Pretty sure mine just melted off.” You see his smirk on his face, but his eyes remain closed.

“No, it’s still there unfortunately.” You say flatly, eyes flitting to his softening dick.

“Unfortunately?” He laughs.

“Yup.” You reply.

Eddie shifts the slightest bit, hand raising from his side as he blindly feels around the bed. When he touches your hip you try to swat him away but he grabs your hand, forcing his fingers to intertwine with yours.

“Gross, stop trying to hold my hand!” You shriek, holding back your laughter as you try to shake him off.

“Princess, let me hold your fucking hand. You just sucked the soul right out of me, I need this.” He says with a laugh, grasp getting stronger with each shake of your wrist.

“You're so weird.” You say, hiding your amusement, trying to find any hint of malice to add to your words but it comes out meak.

Eddie lays there for a few minutes, your hand in his. You try to ignore his radiating warmth by thinking about the project you’re supposed to be doing with him but your eyes keep sinking to your hand in his.

“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?” Eddie says, turning to face you, opening his eyes finally. His question startles you, taking you aback.

“What?” You laugh.

“For school. What time should I pick you up?” He says again, speaking to you like you’re a child.

“You’re not picking me up.” You state. It’s not up for debate.

“You’re not playing hooky tomorrow, and if I pick you up, I can be sure of it.” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re not picking me up.” You state again.

“Fine. I’ll sleep here tonight then tomorrow we can walk to school together.” He replies, tilting his face towards you and lifting his brows.

“You can't sleep here.” You object firmly.

“Princess.” He says warningly.

“Eddie.” You warn back. His eyes stare into you, making your stomach flutter with nerves.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and wash my hands.” You say abruptly, pulling your hand from his.

“I’ll be here.” He sings teasingly.

“No. You. Won’t.” You reply stubbornly as you haul yourself off the bed and out of the room.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Nancy's words from earlier ring in your head.

‘He gets worse.’

The game you play is shifting. The dance is speeding up. It makes your heart beat too fast and your stomach flutter dreadfully.

Maybe she was right.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

part 3 here

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut

1K notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 2 months

Text

could you pretend to be in love? (05/10)

The Challenge

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: new sensations envelop you when you are with Aemond, especially when you learn more details about his relationship with Alys and an unexpected news fills you with nerves.

word count: 6.6k

previous part • series masterlist

new chapter finally!

probably won't be as exciting as the other chapters, however...there is something here going on and I want you guys to figure it out in the comments and we'll see if you are catching what I am👀

the next chapter will be full of drama, believe me, so expect it to come very soon as I'm focusing on finishing writing this story without making new ones and considering I have no more fics pending, just this one🤗

now yes beautiful people, enjoy!

warnings: cursing, language, mentions of cheating.

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen

The sound of birds in the distance reaches your ears.

Today the sky is cloudy, with no chance of rain, the temperature is pleasant and you are thankful that there are no intense sun rays burning your skin when you are outdoors.

You find yourself immersed in your physics homework, sitting on the bleachers of the sports field, where you can only hear the sound of the birds and also faintly the sound of the soccer team training.

You sit in tranquility, undisturbed and unobserved by anyone, when suddenly the sound of footsteps stepping on the metal bleachers pulls you out of your concentration.

You look up and see Aemond approaching, a small smile on his face. You return his greeting with a shy smile and make a small space beside you for him to take a seat.

Aemond plops down nonchalantly next to you, letting out a sigh, then curiously observes what you're doing on your lap.

"What are you doing?"

You deliberately ignore his question and instead, take a loose leaf you had tucked away among your folder, pick it up and hold it out to him, with a gentle yet expectant look.

Aemond takes it and frowns, reading what you've written on it, only getting more confused.

'Pride and Prejudice' by Jane Austen.

'Romeo and Juliet' by William Shakespeare.

"And what is this?"

"Have you already forgotten my conditions of the contract?" you tell him amused, "For every party I go with you to, you have to read one of my favorite books or watch one of my favorite movies or shows," you remind him, "So now, you have to pick one of these two of my favorite books."

Aemond rolls his eye with amusement.

"And why exactly do I have to pick one of these two? Don't they seem... repetitive and so usual?"

"That's what people always say, obviously they know these books by the title and their authors, but how many people actually read these books?" you look at him with your tone full of expectation, "I'm sure you haven't read either of them."

He shrugs indifferently, with his nonchalant air.

"So? There are movies," he says confused, "I haven't seen them either, but I know how they both end. In the end they both get married," he points to the title of 'Pride and Prejudice', "And here they both die together and their families stop being rivals," he points to 'Romeo and Juliet'.

You let out a small chuckle at his witty response, but you are not intimidated.

"Yes but there are a lot of things that in the movies they don't show, so... what will be your choice, Mr. Aemond?"

He lets out a laugh.

"Well, we'll see how this 'Romeo and Juliet' is," he decides.

"Perfect."

And when he least expects it, from your backpack you take the book, handing it to him with your clear satisfaction and he still confused but amused examines the book in his hands.

"Good, then give me the other one at once, because there's a new party on Saturday," he tells you, completely grabbing your attention.

You open your eyes wide and stare at him in disbelief and surprise.

"What? So soon?" you ask with clear irritation and disappointment in your look and tone.

"Why are you so disappointed? After all you come out on top too since I'm going to read two of your shitty boring books," he says as he raises them slightly in the air.

"My books aren't shitty and they aren't boring!" you exclaim indignantly giving him a gentle tap on the shoulder, "And it's okay, I just didn't think it would be so soon."

"We'll just go for a little while. Then we can both go get some dinner and I'll drop you off at your house early. Sound good?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

And as soon as you say that, you also hand him the second book with a good forced look, making Aemond laugh and take that book too.

"As much as I like seeing you with a wrinkled nose, take it off or it's going to stay that way," he says amused, crinkling it between his fingers briefly, making you laugh and you immediately move his hand away from your face.

Then he says goodbye to you, before getting up and heading off to his next class. And also not before telling you that he'll see you at lunch.

And as you watch him walk away, you tell yourself that these little interactions are part of pretending, since after all, the guys on the soccer team can see them clearly from this distance.

However, that slight fear returns to yourself that things may get more complicated than you expect.

Fortunately, the rest of the week goes smoothly, the teachers seem to be in a good mood and the homework is not heavy.

And you clearly continue to pretend along with Aemond.

Both he and you continue to act as usual, he is attentive and affectionate when you are together in full view of everyone at school. His gestures and looks full of complicity make you feel special, but at the same time remind you that it's all part of a game.

You also keep your word with Helaena, taking time to sit together for lunch at break time and occasionally Alysanne joins in as well, where you gradually start telling her about Cregan.

Until the day of the party arrives.

You tell your dad that you're going to a birthday celebration for a class friend, nothing big and everything quiet.

Then you opt for a pair of black pants, low-heeled ankle boots, a strappy blouse in a vibrant shade of cherry and a jacket to complement the outfit. And once you look in the mirror, you feel ready, although the nerves begin to settle in your stomach.

And of course, Aemond arrives promptly at your house.

His relaxed expression and smile greet you before you even get into the car. And driving to the party, the atmosphere is comfortable and calm.

And when you both arrive at the house where the party is, it's not a big, loud party like the previous one. But the atmosphere is full of energy, there is music, people dancing, drinks and cigarettes.

And you together with Aemond follow the same procedure to pretend to be a couple in love.

This time, you both decide to be more present with Aemond's friends. You sit between Trevor and Aemond, who immediately puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him, starting to make conversation with his friends.

And as always, he makes sure you're always included, just like during lunch in the cafeteria.

And while everyone is talking, the guys and Aemond make you laugh, feeling more and more comfortable with them. And as the night goes on, you realize how natural it feels to be next to Aemond, as if you fit perfectly into his world, at least for tonight.

When he at your side looks at you attentively and with some curiosity.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you nod nonchalantly, "Why?"

"Just asking," he shrugs, then lifts his hand and tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, "Can I get you something to drink?"

You shake your head.

"I don't want to drink beer or anything like that."

"Then a soda? Or water?"

You let out a small laugh.

"Okay, soda's fine."

"Alright. I'll be back soon," he says then leaves a soft kiss on your forehead and gets up to head towards the kitchen.

He leaves for a moment and you are left talking to his friends, who are a lot of fun and in fact, because of them and Aemond, you begin to understand lacrosse as such, since that's all they talk about, besides their nonsense.

And also about some of the girls they like.

And also in that small moment that Aemond leaves, as you briefly observe the party around you, you see Alys with her group of friends in another corner.

You just casually watch them, you don't plan to give them any attention, but just as your eyes watch Alys, she watches you back.

And you are struck by how she says something to her friends with a smirk of superiority without taking her eyes off you and then everyone in her group watches you and laughs too.

You snort as you look away, as if you really care.

Aemond returns with your soda and only a glass of beer for himself, resuming conversation with both you and his friends, having a good time together.

Time passes and you feel the need to go to the bathroom, so you leave your now empty glass on the small table in the center.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you announce, catching his attention, starting to stretch a bit to get up.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asks you thoughtfully, "I mean, wait for you outside."

"No need, don't worry. I'll be back soon," you assure him, standing up.

"Okay," he nods at you with a small smile.

With a nod, you walk away towards the second floor bathroom, where you'll mostly take a moment to recharge your batteries before heading back to the party.

Luckily the bathroom is empty and you do everything you need to do without pressure.

Then you take a deep breath, allow yourself a brief moment of calm before returning to the party, wash your hands and mentally go over how you should behave around Aemond in front of everyone.

As you exit the bathroom, just down the hall, you notice Alys' presence in the area near the stairs.

You think about just ignoring her and walking past her, but when her eyes watch you, as if she is waiting for you, a mischievous smile curves her lips and she turns fully towards you, giving you her full attention.

"What do we have here," she mutters sarcastically, moving towards you while holding a red plastic cup in her hand.

You watch her completely unconcerned and walk past her, as you don't plan on dealing with her right now or ever.

"How does it feel to be Aemond's new pet?" she asks with a mocking laugh, planting herself in front of you, stopping your steps, "Or did you just think you could replace me so easily?"

Your heart begins to pound in your chest, but you stand your ground, reminding yourself that you will not let his words affect you, as his expression is filled with disdain.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you reply calmly, trying not to give her the pleasure of seeing you affected by her comments.

She glares at you, before a sly smile spreads across her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says with false sympathy, "I really thought you knew."

You frown.

"He's always done this, ever since we started dating," she says, "When we'd break up, he'd date the first girl in front of him as a pathetic attempt to replace me and make me jealous, so you're not the first and won't be the last, sweetie," she tells you with a fake pout, feigning pity for you.

You fix your gaze on Alys, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration coursing through your body. Who does she think she is to talk to you like that?

"I don't need your false sympathy," you reply with determination, your voice resonating louder than you expected, "What Aemond and I have has nothing to do with you."

Alys rolls her eyes in exasperation, as if your words are irrelevant to her.

"Oh, please," she replies dismissively, "Don't lie to yourself. He's always been like that, he's just looking to distract himself and you're just the last in line," she points out to you irrelevantly, "When we broke up, he was crying like a baby for me, begging me to get back together."

Your heart clenches at her words, with a surge of emotions surging through your chest.

For a moment, doubt takes hold of you.

Did Aemond really do that? Was he so affected by their breakup?

You tell yourself that maybe if he hadn't, he would never have asked you to do this. But this was mostly so that Alys would stop making a fool of him at school by cheating on him, not to get his attention and make her jealous... right?

"I'm not surprised you don't know," she continues to tell you dismissively, "But do you really think he loves you? Please," she snorts derisively, "He'll dump you in a few weeks when I give him the slightest hope because he's still crazy about me," she says superiorly, "Look at you and look at me. I know what he's into and that's definitely not you, especially you."

You try to ignore the stinging pain and keep your composure, clenching your jaw.

"I don't care what happened between you," you reply bravely, even if your voice shakes a little, "Ours is different."

She lets out a mocking laugh.

"Oh you poor little thing, you're so naive."

"If that's all, thank you so much for that vital information for my life," you tell her just as mockingly, walking past her, determined to leave her behind.

But just as you pass by her side, Alys moves along with you and purposefully slams your shoulder and arm with brutality, causing the beer in her hand to spill in a dull motion onto your chest and clothes.

The cold, sticky liquid slides down your blouse and pants, leaving you drenched and shocked by the suddenness of the moment.

You feel the liquid soak through your clothes and a shiver runs down your back. And you look down, watching in disbelief as the drink spreads through your clothes.

Then you look back at Alys, who has a mocking, amused look on her face.

"Oh, gosh, how clumsy of me," Alys scoffs, her tone of voice full of fake concern, "I'm really sorry, it was an accident."

You take a deep breath to contain your frustration, but her words spark a small spark of anger inside you. How can she be so brazen?

"An accident?" you repeat, disbelief in your voice as you stare at her with a frown.

Alys just smiles mischievously, enjoying your discomfort and what she just did to you.

"Enjoy the party, honey. But first, maybe you should clean yourself up," she says before turning away, leaving you soaking wet and clearly feeling very proud.

You don't even know what to do, feeling this way leaves you paralyzed for a moment, until you finally make your way back to the bathroom.

At the sink you further wet your clothes with water, which looks worse, but at least you won't stink of beer.

Drops of beer also splashed into your hair, so you wipe that off as well, feeling the humiliation wash over you and you don't even know exactly why.

But you do.

You look down at your ruined booties too, soaked from the front with beer and water.

The skin on your chest and collarbone feels chuckling from the beer, so you wipe it off too, when suddenly, there's a knock on the door.

"One moment!" you exclaim grumpily, still cleaning yourself.

"Y/N?"

You hear Aemond's worried voice outside.

"Fuck," you curse in a whisper.

"Are you okay?"

You bite the inside of your cheek and let out a long breath, already having the idea that you won't be able to hide this from him.

You were only supposed to come to the bathroom and you've already been late, of course he must have sensed something was wrong and come looking for you.

You leave the wet towel in the sink and open the door, where Aemond instantly notices you and opens his eye wide, seeing your clothes and some of your soaked hair.

"What happened?" he asks worriedly, moving quickly towards you, examining you.

You struggle to keep your composure, but can't, a bad mood overcomes you and you make your displeasure clear.

"Alys threw her drink on me," you finally say, stepping aside to let him go into the bathroom with you, reaching back for the damp towel to clean your skin.

Surprise crosses your face before it morphs into an expression of restrained fury and disbelief.

"What?"

You hiss, looking in the mirror at yourself as you wipe your sticky skin.

"Did she say something to you?" he asks, his voice serious but full of concern.

You let out a gesture of disbelief.

"She said things many things," you say seriously, not watching him for a moment, trying to dry your hair with the towel.

Aemond frowns, clearly annoyed.

He walks over to you and takes the towel from your hands, stopping your attempt to dry your hair. His gaze meets yours through the mirror, searching for answers.

"What things did dhe say?"

You sigh, feeling the weight of the situation on your shoulders.

"It doesn't matter, she just said bullshit," you reply evasively, looking away.

Aemond watches your face, urgently wanting you to look him in the eye, but you don't, you avoid his gaze and are obviously annoyed with the situation, which he doesn't blame you for.

He's annoyed too, because he knew he should have been near you to protect you if Alys is in the same place as the two of you.

He sighs in frustration, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, watching your soaked clothes and how you continue to clean yourself.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs sincerely, his voice full of regret, "You shouldn't have gone through this. She's totally out of her mind."

You remain silent for a moment, fighting the emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. As he looks at you with anguish and regret for not protecting you from Alys' comments and actions.

"It's not your fault," you finally say in a serious voice, still not looking at him, then set the damp towel down on the sink and inhale softly, "Can you take me home?"

Aemond nods, feeling guilty.

"Sure," he murmurs, "But first... you can put on my jacket," he says as he starts to take it off, "I'll be waiting outside."

He takes it off and gently hands it to you, his hand brushing against yours with a gesture of tenderness.

"Thanks," you murmur.

He exits the bathroom, closes the door and you remove your blouse and soaked jacket, leaving your bra down and immediately wrap his jacket around you, zipping it up almost to your throat.

With your clothes in your hands, you walk out of the bathroom and Aemond watches you silently, attentive and concerned, with a sadness and frustration in his eye that he can't hide.

He hates your distance.

A few moments ago the two of you were having a good time and now that Alys has done this... he hates that you are apart from him.

You both return to the party and Aemond doesn't even say goodbye to his friends, thinking he'll text them later, grabbing your shoulder and walking out of the house with you.

Together, you walk to his car in silence, where he doesn't dare to say a single word to you and you don't really want to talk either.

And all the way to your house, that nagging feeling doesn't leave your system.

But is it specifically because Alys spilled her drink on you or is it the interesting information she shared with you about Aemond?

You don't.

But you do.

Aemond tried to talk to you about what happened but you wouldn't let him.

You feel it's something you shouldn't make a big deal about. After all, he and you are not really 'dating'. So before he dropped you off at your house, you just reassured him that everything was fine and nothing more.

Now it's your father who drops you off at school on this day and you head towards your locker, immersed for a moment in thought.

You carelessly take your backpack off your shoulders to open it at the same time you open your locker, but as you do so, a polaroid falls to the floor.

You frown and bend down to pick it up, confused, since it's not yours.

And as you look at it, your heart begins to beat too hard in your chest as you see a picture of Aemond and Alys as if at a school dance or a party, both of them hugging.

But that's not what catches your attention, what does is seeing how there's is a picture of your face overlaid over where Alys' face should be, indicating just that, her replacement, a second place or temporary substitute.

But the thing about you and Aemond is not real.

So... why are you so affected by something you know isn't real?

It's a question that haunts your mind as you struggle to maintain your composure, beginning to tremble and feel your breathing heavy.

You swallow hard and press your lips together, when just then, you hear it...the giggles.

You raise your gaze and in the distance, you see Alys with her friends watching in your direction and laughing, clearly mocking you.

Although your relationship with Aemond is fake, the pain you feel at this moment is real.

And before you can react, Aemond's voice is suddenly heard.

"Hey, I was—

You turn your head towards him instantly and your eyes meet his, but his words hang in the air the moment he sees what you hold in your hands.

His soft expression slowly transforms from confusion to fury as he sees the picture. His whole face hardens completely and he purses his lips.

And sure enough, it's a matter of him realizing what's happening, as he hears Alys and her friends' laughter and looks in their direction, hardening his gaze even more.

"Aemond—

You try to speak but he instantly walks over to where Alys is standing without saying a word to you, taking the picture from your hands.

Your heart beats harder, opening your eyes wide and you want to walk towards him, to stop him, but somehow, you are paralyzed and you don't know exactly why.

Tension begins to feel in the air and you feel like your heart will burst out of your chest at any moment.

Aemond arrives in front of Alys with a determined look, his jaw tense and his fists clenched at his side. Instead of shouting, however, his voice is firm and controlled.

"From now on, I don't ever want to see you keep bothering my girlfriend with your fucking little girl pranks again, do you understand me?" he says angrily to then throw the photo at her.

The photo hits her face lightly and Alys looks up at him, surprised by the sudden intensity of his voice and his movements.

Instead of showing fear, however, her face hardens with an expression of disdain and disbelief.

"Oh, look who thinks he's the hero," she replies with her cynical smile, trying to hide her discomfort behind her façade of superiority, "I didn't know you had to protect your little girlfriend, Aemond. And come on, we were just joking."

Aemond clenches his fists, his jaw tense with frustration. But he continues to maintain his composure, his eye fixed on hers with determination.

"Oh yeah? You were just joking?" he repeats, "And the party thing on Saturday was a fucking joke too?"

Her face tenses slightly at the mention of the party, her smile fading momentarily before her regains his composure.

"That was an accident—

"Yeah, right. Everything to you is an accident, something you didn't meant to do, something that got out of hand. How could I not know about that, right? It's always the same fucking story with you."

She purses her lips.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that—

"Leave me and my girlfriend alone," he tells her slowly and clearly, "I'm not going to tell you again and I don't want to know that you're doing your shitty jokes again," he warns her, making it clear with his tone that he's not willing to tolerate her childish games anymore.

Alys recoils slightly at the annoyance and determination in his voice, her confidence waning slightly.

And before she can say anything else, Aemond turns and walks back along with you.

The students around you are still fully attentive to the confrontation, shocked and delighted by the drama, while you watch Aemond in awe of the way he has defended you.

"Come on," he murmurs to you in a softer, gentler way, closing your locker door and taking your hand, leading you with him away from the watchful eyes.

After what happened, he takes you with him to a nearby empty classroom and once inside, he gently closes the door behind him and turns to look at you, his expression attentive and full of concern.

He doesn't say anything right away and you just bite the inside of your cheek and lower your gaze, not knowing exactly what to say or what to do.

Until he exhales deeply, releasing the tension built up in his shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice soft and comforting as he watches you intently.

You nod slightly, though your hands still tremble slightly.

"I'm fine," you reply, trying to sound unconcerned.

He sighs, tearing his gaze away from yours for a moment.

"I'm so sorry. I-I didn't... I didn't expect something like this to happen. And she..." he runs a hand across his forehead in frustration, "It's not fair for you to be dealing with this."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Aemond," you tell him softly and sincerely, "But thank you for standing up for me."

He sighs.

"And you don't have to thank me, Y/N. It was the least I could do. But I promise you this is the last time something like this happens."

"You can't control what Alys does or doesn't do."

He exhales again.

"I know, but we never agreed that you would go through these bad times in the contract."

"Hey," you take a step towards him, your gaze soft as you see the frustration and worry on his face, starting to get upset, "Aemond," you call his name in a calm manner, "It's okay. I'm fine. Yes, the party thing and today was difficult but..." you shrug, "I'm fine. It's nothing I can't handle."

Still the worry doesn't leave his face.

"Are you sure? At the party you were upset and I don't blame you, but I don't want this to affect between us. You were distant and now...

His words float in the air and you try to place a small, comforting smile in his direction, though it appears more of a grimace.

"We're fine," you assure him softly.

His gaze reflects a mixture of relief, watching you without another word, then briefly glancing around.

And then an idea seems to cross his mind and he watches you again, attentive.

"What do you say we skip this first class?"

"What?" you immediately inquire.

"I know you don't like skipping classes but just one missed class isn't going to hurt you."

You frown.

"And what do you want to do?"

He shrugs.

"Just talk."

You bite your lower lip, hesitant.

But it's only enough to see the look on Aemond's face and his posture, utterly determined and solely waiting for you, that you finally let out a resigned sigh and nod.

Soon the two of you are sitting in the bleachers, with almost no one around, just the cheerleading squad training in the corner of the huge soccer and lacrosse field.

The atmosphere is quiet and you like that, just like the last time you were here and he chose the book of 'Romeo and Juliet' to read.

And once both of you are silent, just looking around and feeling each other's presence, Aemond decides to speak.

"What did Alys say to you at that party?"

He dares in asking, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of curiosity and concern, while you remain silent for a moment, not expecting that he would try to bring up the subject again.

And inevitably Alys' words echo in your mind, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

And you don't understand why.

You don't understand why you feel this unpleasant sensation when you remember her words.

"Well, she wasn't very nice..." you're silent for a moment, "Actually she wasn't at all but..." you lick your lips and avert your gaze from him, focusing on the lacrosse field, "She called me... your new pet, a new pathetic attempt to replace her."

He frowns, his gaze hardening as he hears your words, incredulous and annoyed. And he doesn't need to say anything, his face speaks for itself.

"She said you did that all the time when you both broke up... you know," you clear your throat, "Going out with other girls to make her jealous so she'd come back to you. That I was just a distraction and that pretty soon you'd drop me the moment she gave you the slightest hope of getting back together."

His lips tighten into a line, closing his eye for a moment and shaking his head, still intent on your words. And you prepare to say the next thing more softly and tactfully.

"She also said that you cried to her and begged her to come back this last time you both broke up."

He snorts, more incredulous than ever.

"Of course she said that."

And before he can speak further, you feel the need to clarify your behavior a bit.

"I always acted with her as if we were a real couple," you clarify, "I wasn't bothered by what she said," what a fucking lie, "What bothered me was her talking to me that way and throwing her drink on me."

"No, no, it's okay, I understand that," he assures you instantly, in a soft voice, "But everything she said to you is not true."

You watch him with your parted lips, slightly surprised and beginning to feel your heart knot.

"It isn't?"

"No," he says more firmly, incredulous, "It's true that I begged her to get back together, but that was a while ago, practically in the beginning of our relationship when it was fun for her to break up and come back," he explains to you, serious and honest with his words, "I was crazy about her, I even grew to love her and gave her all of me. But I was just a fucking child experiencing his first love... and that wasn't enough for her."

His confession takes your breath away for a moment, revealing a vulnerability you didn't expect, watching his serious and frustrated face clearly from what happened at the party and an hour ago at your locker.

You have no idea what to say, not wanting to minimize his feelings from that time nor now by saying the wrong thing.

"It's also not true that I was dating other girls to make her jealous to get her to come back to me, I-I..." he shakes his head, "I've never been like that. And you're certainly no distraction or... my new pet," he says with distaste.

You let out a long breath.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, "She said it in a way that made me believe her. I don't know what I was thinking," you say sincerely, "And I'm also sorry she made you feel that way," you mumble, feeling a lump in your throat.

"Don't worry, it's okay," he says softly, with a bitter little smile and his gaze lowered.

He shakes his head regretfully, as if he's remembering a past he'd rather forget and you feel guilty.

"It's just..." he starts to say, "Why would I want to go back to her if she cheated on me?" he asks incredulously, "She was the one who cried and begged to get back together this last time. And you know why? Because I found her fucking that guy in her car after she told me she was feeling sick and didn't feel like seeing me or going out with me."

Fuck.

His words echo in your mind, bringing with them a wave of sadness and empathy, definitely not expecting to hear that.

You never knew how it was that Alys cheated on Aemond, it only began to be said that it was with a college guy, but it was never said under what circumstances exactly she cheated on him.

You feel a sharp pang in your chest and suddenly feel outraged at what he had to endure, that she betrayed his trust in that horrible way.

How could she do that to him?

You don't have a heart made of stone to put a person through that.

You feel grateful that he shared this with you. It just shows you the level of trust you both have built. And you take a moment before you speak, trying to find the right words.

And the first thing you do is raise your hand and place it on top of his.

"I'm so sorry," you say softly, sincerely, "I'm so sorry you went through that. You didn't deserve it."

"You don't have to apologize, Y/N," he replies gently, accepting your touch, "None of it was your fault."

Then he sighs and you realize there's a weight to his words, a pain he's carried with him for some time.

"It's just... "he continues speaking, his voice heavy with mixed emotions, "Even if this thing between the two of us was real, why do this? Why tell these lies and want to hurt you with her cruel words and actions? Why won't she let me move on?"

You press your lips together and your heart clenches as you listen to his anguish.

"Maybe she's still in love with you," you mutter, trying to find a reason, "In her own twisted way."

He shakes his head, incredulous.

"This isn't love. It wasn't before and it isn't now. She just wants to have me eating out of the palm of her hand, like always."

His words are blunt and make you feel even more helpless about the situation.

And there's really nothing you can do, you can only be here for him, listen to him, support him in whatever he needs and be... his friend, like you've really been all this time, putting aside your facade of a girlfriend in love.

Right?

He lets out another sigh, this time heavier than the previous ones, and then leans against the metal of the bleachers behind you, leaning back.

You think he will let go of your hand, but he pulls you along with him, both of you close, shoulder to shoulder, both of you suddenly falling silent, saying nothing more, just staring at the horizon.

Until he speaks again.

"I don't want to think about it anymore," he says as he watches you and you look back at him almost instantly, feeling his thumb gently caress the back of your hand, sending a kind of electricity through your body.

And you propose the first thing that comes to mind.

"Do you want to listen to music until the next class starts?" you say in a soft voice and he nods immediately.

You take your headphones from your backpack, your phone and settle back down next to him, handing him an earphone and then you play your Spotify playlist with the songs you keep listening to lately.

You don't even know if he also likes the same style of music as you, but he doesn't complain or say anything to you the moment you start playing The 1997, Harry Styles, The Weeknd, Chase Atlantic, Cigarettes After Sex and Lana del Rey.

Until he closes his eyes and suddenly uses you as a pillow, dropping his head on your shoulder, immediately this catching your attention and feeling a strange sensation in your lower stomach.

Despite being surprised and feeling confused for a moment, you do absolutely nothing to push him away and after a moment of hesitation, you slowly drop your head on top of his as well.

He doesn't open his eye or say anything to you, he just settles in better and then you both get very still, continuing to listen to music.

And you can't help but wonder; are the two of you even pretending now?

You honestly don't know.

"We have a problem."

That's the first thing Aemond says to you on a Tuesday morning when he stops by to drive you to school.

Immediately this catches your attention and you look at him slightly concerned, closing the passenger seat door to the side of you and watch him completely attentively.

"What's wrong?"

"My mom knows about you."

Shit.

Your whole body tenses and you watch him with your eyes wide open in surprise.

"And of course, she wants to meet you."

Oh shit.

"B-but...

You try to speak, not finding the right words watching him confused, not understanding anything and Aemond helps you with that as soon as he sees your completely disbelieving and surprised face.

"Aegon told her," he lets you know, "The fucking cunt talked out of turn and before he knew it, I'd already told her everything."

Oh God.

"And what did she tell you?" you ask, feeling a knot in your stomach.

"She wants you to go to dinner Friday night."

He tells you in a soft voice and looking just as worried as you do, still trying to convey calm.

"I told her I'd talk to you about it, but..." he lets out a resigned sigh, "I know her. And she won't leave me alone until she meets you. She's really nice, I swear, she's the sweetest person and... I know we agreed not to involve families but I had nothing to do with this."

Your mind is spinning as you finish processing the information, feeling an unexpected uneasiness and anxiety.

The mere thought of meeting Aemond's mom already makes you feel nauseous from the same nerves. However, you empathize with him, as this wasn't something he planned and it was by third parties who think he and you are actually dating.

But still, you feel incredibly nervous and the day hasn't even come close.

"I get it," you mumble, trying to hide your nervousness, licking your lips, then looking at him hesitantly, "You want me to?"

Aemond averts his gaze from you, running a hand over his face, not knowing exactly what to say to you, as you wait for his thoughtful response.

Until he lets out a long breath and moves a little closer towards you, placing his hand on top of yours.

"I know this is a lot to ask, especially after we agreed not to do this," he tells you softly, "And my mother is insistent, I do want you to meet her, but... if you don't want to do it, it's totally fine with me," he assures you, "The least I want to do is pressure you into doing something you're not comfortable with."

His words comfort you a little, but you still feel the nervousness wash over you, as well as feel a slight pang of guilt.

You bite your lower lip, struggling with your own emotions and thoughts.

"It's just that I feel remorseful that I'm going to meet her and she's going to meet me when this isn't real," you say in a sad, worried tone.

"I know," he says with compression, holding his hand tighter with yours, "Me too but you won't have to do this again. I'll take care of it, I promise."

You let out a long breath you too, lowering your gaze to the clasped hands in your lap as you feel Aemond's attentive and concerned gaze on you.

"All right," you finally reply, "If it's important to you and your mother, I'll handle it."

"Are you sure? You can tell me no and I'll understand."

"No, don't worry," you assure him, "I will."

He smiles softly at you with gratitude, but also with a hint of concern in his eye.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it."

And despite your own misgivings, you return the small smile.

"It's okay, really. I just... need a little time to think."

Aemond nods, understanding.

"Sure."

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