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mamachasesmayhem · 6 months

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She Ain’t Takin’ Your Call

Here’s my contribution to my incredible sister in shenanigans @hangmansgbaby What If…? Celebration Challenge! This can be read as a standalone Honeyverse nugget or as a the alternative to my Me On You story

Summary: What if Bradley didn’t cut Honey off when Mav pulled his papers? What if, after years of pining, her father’s decision to stall Bradley’s career bonded them instead of driving a wedge between them? What if she married Bradley instead of Jake?

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Honey Mitchell (wife), Jake Seresin x Honey Bradshaw (best friend)

Warnings: ouchies inbound. Full range of emotions comin’ in hot. Also, this went further than I expected so there may or may not be a part two coming 🫣

Honey

18 years old

“What do you mean he pulled your papers Bradley? Please tell me that you’re not saying what I think you are?” Honey pleads with the seething man pacing in front of her.

“Did you know??” Bradley turns on her in an instant.

“Did I know my dad was gonna fuck both of our lives up? No, Bradley, I did not!” She roared back. “If I’d have known my own dad would single-handedly derail the futures we’d so carefully chosen and worked tirelessly for, you would have known the second I did!”

"Shit, Honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you. It's just-I wanted that naval academy ring like my dad, you know? One last ditch effort to make him proud," his voice cracks.

"Oh, Tank. We both know he's already beyond proud of you. You took care of Mama B before we lost her, you've had an incredible athletic career, one you're ending on your own free will, might I add. You're a pretty great guy, Bradley. I know I'm proud of you," Honey spoke softly.

Tank.

The nickname was affectionately given to Bradley by Honey when they were in elementary school after Honey discovered the existence of an M2 Bradley tank. They both found it hilarious given that their dads were in the navy and thought all Army guys were meatheaded tool bags.

Bradley’s arms wrapped around her small frame. “I love you, Honey. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She sniffled. “We’ll figure this out, Bradley. Together, okay?”

“Together,” he promised.

22 years old

“We should get married.”

Natasha drops the cup she was holding, Jake chokes on the beer he was sipping and starts coughing, and Honey freezes like a deer in headlights.

Bradley was the picture of cool and collected, with determination in his eyes and a smirk on his face following the suggestion.

“Wh-what?” She stammers.

“Dude, that is the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard in my life. And I was literally raised in a barn!” Jake laughs.

The young couple had known Natasha since they were in high school and met Jake in OCS over the summer. They became fast friends, their personalities meshing well right off the bat. Although Jake was at the Naval Academy while Nat, Bradley, and Honey were at the University of Virginia, they took advantage of their common winter break and the opportunity to spend some time together in Virginia Beach.

“Shut it, ring knocker. It’s not the real proposal, she’s a lady and I love her, I will absolutely sweep her off her feet with the real thing!” Bradley shoots Jake a dirty look.

The two boys bicker like an old couple, completely oblivious to the fact Honey still hasn’t moved a muscle.

Nat caught on and quickly pulled her aside.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want that? I know your parents were kind of a mess, so it would make sense if marriage isn’t something you’d be interested in,” Natasha supplied.

“No. It’s not that. It’s-it’s the fact that I do want that but I’m scared he was kidding or is drunk enough that he won’t remember it tomorrow,” she whispers in reply.

Honey feels warmth against her back and she turns to find Bradley smiling down at her.

“Take a walk with me?” He offers her his hand.

She happily links her fingers with his, leaving Jake and Nat sitting at the fire pit in the backyard of their rental for the weekend.

They're a good way down the beach, the chilly waves brushing against their feet as they walk the shoreline. Bradley pulls her into an alcove, the moonlight reflecting beautifully off of the dark water and illuminating the sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

Honey’s lip twitches, unable to contain her goofy comment. “What are you up to, Bradshaw? Is this where you finally give me your villain speech and admit you’ve been plotting my demise since I took the last uncrustable when we were 13?”

“Oh, my little bird, I have a punishment worse than death waiting for you over that one. But no, that’s not even close to what I have planned.”

Bradley gathers her hands in his and takes a step back before dropping to one knee.

Honey’s jaw drops in tandem at the sight of him reaching into his pocket and pulling out a dark velvet box.

“Honey Marie Mitchell, will you marry me?” Bradley beams up at her.

“OF COURSE! I’ve been planning my life with you since we were 17, it’s about damn time you make me a Bradshaw!”

Bradley slips the ring on her finger and quickly stands and tugs her into his arms, kissing her deeply and passionately.

Whoops and wolf whistles come from behind them, causing them to break apart.

“Alright, that’s enough! You’re gonna catch a public indecency charge if you keep it up any longer, you animals!” Natasha teases.

“Aw, Bradshaw you are a romantic! I thought you were all shit and no egg,” Jake ribs Bradley.

“You’re looking at soon to be two Bradshaws, Seresin! Read it and weep!” Honey smiles, flashing her left hand that now sports the modest diamond band Carole wore until her last breath.

The four of them made their way back to the fire with broad grins, celebrating the engagement until the early hours of the morning.

24 years old

“By the power vested in me by the great state of Virginia and the World Wide Web, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw. You may kiss the bride!”

Natasha beamed in joy for her long time friends as they sealed their union with a kiss.

In a perfect world, Honey’s dad would be giving her away. She’d be in a sparkly gown she and her future mother in law cried over when she tried it on. She’d be getting married on the beach in Miramar, where the Mitchells and the Bradshaws were blissfully happy for the last time, starting a new era where the last one ended.

This was a solid backup plan, though. They were surrounded by the handful of close friends they’d made during their college years and their first assignments after graduation. Bradley had wanted to get married beforehand, not wanting to risk being separated even at the beginning of their careers.

Honey, however, wanted to wait. She had wanted to make a name for herself first, not wanting to be known as Pete Mitchell’s daughter and Bradley Bradshaw’s wife. Not wanting to be known for her part in a tragic love story, for being another woman riding the coattails of her husband's success.

Bradley understood, he wouldn’t get in the way of her career the same way her father had done to him. It didn’t mean he was happy about it, though.

He seemed to take their time apart much harder than Honey did. He wasn’t as good at forming bonds with his teammates as she was. Where she was happy to build happy and healthy friendships everywhere she went, Bradley had trouble finding a balance between codependency and apathy. It seemed he could only find himself falling into one extreme or the other.

After a rough ejection, Honey finally understood why Bradley hated being away from her so much. There was a limited number of days they had on earth, and she decided she didn’t wanna spend more away from Bradley than absolutely necessary. It was a tough decision, knowing she essentially had to choose between her dream of being a fighter pilot and her dream of being Honey Bradshaw. In the end, she knew she could find happiness in another MOS, but she would never find another Tank.

Honey smiled against Bradley’s lips as he dipped her back in a deep kiss. The cheers of their friends surrounded them, filling the air with a palpable joy. Their ceremony was small, maybe 15 people total in attendance, but the love they felt was enough to power the entire crew of an aircraft carrier.

Jake, Nat, and Javy were the first to wrap them in hugs when they joined everyone at the bar down the road from the spot on the beach where Bradley proposed a few years back. Virginia Beach, while definitely a tourist trap, easily became a place close to their hearts. It’s where Bradley proposed, it’s where they got married, and it’s where they’ll share their first house as a married couple. They picked out an adorable little bungalow not far from where they’re both stationed in Norfolk on a stroke of good luck.

Quite a few hours later and after thoroughly consummating their marriage, Honey laid awake in bed, replaying the day in her mind with a smile. Her left hand carried extra weight now, her sweet husband had surprised her with a beautiful pear shaped solitaire that perfectly complemented the sentimental band she proudly sported. It was a little backwards to get a wedding band when you get engaged and an engagement ring on your wedding day, but she always smiled at the idea that they did things in their own way.

With her hand resting heavily on Bradley’s chest, she reached for her phone and quickly snapped a picture. Her thumbs danced across the screen and hovered over the arrow. She attached the picture and hit send before she could change her mind.

She wasn’t sure if her chest felt lighter or heavier after the short exchange, but she didn’t have much time to think about it because her new husband briefly roused from sleep.

“Get some sleep, wife,” he mumbled as he tucked her into his side. “I can hear your brain from all the way over here.”

She pressed a light kiss to his chest before she replied. “You know I always think the most before bed, being still is never a good thing for me.”

“Nervous about Monday?” He guesses correctly.

Honey lets out a breath. “A little bit. It’ll be a change moving to helos, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m sorry you gave up jets for me, sweetheart. I hate that you had to sacrifice that dream for me,” Bradley frowns.

“You’re the real dream, Bradshaw. It wasn’t a hard choice at all. Besides, I don’t think the navy could handle a third generation of Mitchells buzzing the tower,” Honey chuckles and Bradley flinches at the mention of her family legacy. “Anyway, you need some sleep. I plan on taking advantage of my husband and our newly wedded bliss all day tomorrow.”

27 years old

Honey couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face when she caught sight of a familiar head of blonde hair in the mess hall aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln.

She sneaks up to the table where he’s sitting and drops her voice in hopes to keep him from recognizing her immediately. “How’s it hangin, man?”

Jake groans. “You get hung up in a tree after an ejection one time and you’re stuck being called Hangman for the rest of your car-” he pauses mid sentence when he finally turns around to address the newcomer giving him a hard time. “Bradshaw! As I live and breathe!”

Honey bites her lip in an attempt to contain her laughter, but it bubbles out when Jake jumps up and lifts her off the ground in a bone crushing hug.

“I heard a rumor that the best pilot in the navy was onboard! Imagine my disappointment when I saw it was the Vigilantes’ squadron,” she teases.

Jake clutches at his chest in exaggerated pain.

“You wound me!” Another voice rings from the table.

“Javy!” Honey grins as she’s passed to Jake’s wingman for his own hug.

“Boys, this here is Venom. She’s the most badass chopper pilot you’ll ever meet. She used to pilot a super hornet, but was in a horrific crash that disfigured her into the hideous creature you see in front of you today,” Jake teased.

Introductions are made around the table and Honey happily sits down and joins the group. After a while of shooting the shit, their table mates have filtered out, leaving only Honey and her longtime friends.

“Alright, now that the crowd’s thinned out…how you holding up? The nightmares any better?” She asks quietly.

Javy took that as his cue to make a silent exit knowing it was difficult for Jake to talk about his true feelings about it. Only he and Honey knew.

“Some days are harder than others. The nightmares aren’t as often anymore,” he replied softly.

Hangman may be the only active duty naval aviator with a confirmed kill, but Jake Seresin has a soft underbelly only a select few have seen. The same select few all attended her wedding.

Honey was suddenly aware of just how many people still lingered in the mess hall and decided to take the conversation elsewhere.

She tilts her head in the direction of the door. “Where’s your plane? I’ve been in charge of rotor blades for so long that I may have forgotten what it feels like to handle a throttle.”

Jake understands what she’s doing and is grateful for the change of scenery as he happily leads her down to his baby. They climb onto the wing and settle facing each other, Jake’s back against the canopy and Honey’s against where the wing is folded for storage purposes.

“You look like you’re at home over there,” Jake says, nudging her with his boot.

Honey sighs. “I feel like I’m at home. I miss Mach speeds.”

“You know, in another life, I think you might have been good enough to be my WSO,” he teases.

“Oooh, high praise, Seresin. You’d trust me enough to have your back, huh?”

“I’d trust you with my life, Vee. Definitely miss having you in the skies, my jokes don’t land with anyone else like they did with you,” Jake pouts.

“Yeah, well, apparently my sense of humor is just as shitty as yours,” she chuckles. “All jokes aside, talk to me about how you’re doing.”

Jake pours his heart out and explains how unexpectedly hard it hit him. Sure, he was trained to eliminate a threat with zero hesitation. He would do it again in a heartbeat, too. He’s a protector to his core and he finds comfort in the thought he was protecting people back home. It didn’t make the realization he took someone’s life any less painful, though. Because in that other plane was another person. Someone just like him who probably had friends and family waiting for him to return home.

“I really am doing better, I’m coming to terms with it and it haunts me a little less every day. Thanks for always checking in on me, Bradshaw,” he sends her a genuine and thankful smile.

“It’s what we do, we all made that same promise when we were floating in that god forsaken freezing water to always be here for each other. As much as I hate that Bradley’s not here too, I’m glad he’s got Nat at home to depend on during rough days. He’s not handled the last couple of deployments well,” Honey admits.

Jake hums in contemplation. “You thinkin’ about turning in your wings? Errr, blades? permanently?”

“I dunno, not yet. I told Bradley we could talk about it more when I turn 30. We’ve still got so many adventures to go on.” She smiled softly.

An alarm went off on Honey’s phone, a reminder for her scheduled video call with her husband. She and Jake make their way to the bunks and he stays long enough to say hi to his buddy before heading to his own room. He’s known the Bradshaw’s long enough to know what’s next.

“Well hello there, gorgeous. I sure am missing you,” Bradley coos through the screen.

“I miss you too, handsome. How was your day?”

They catch up on all that transpired in the few days they’ve been apart for the next half hour before a devilish grin crosses Honey’s face. She had been fiddling with the zipper of her flight suit, slowly inching it down until her breasts were visible at the neck of the tank top she wore under the olive green material. Bradley was visibly distracted, eyes locked on the newly exposed skin.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” Honey teases, trailing her fingers across her collarbone.

28 years old

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.”

Honey’s jaw dropped and her grip faltered on the drink she was holding.

“Bradley!” She hissed on a whisper.

He knew that was a sore spot, Jake had confided in him as well, and he used it against him.

Dick move, Bradley.

He ignored her warning and walked away, no doubt in the direction of the piano. Honey flashed Jake an apologetic smile and he just shrugged before slipping that cocky Hangman mask back into place.

Suddenly, the bell rang and the crowded bar erupted in cheers. She knew Jake, Nat, or Javy would make sure to grab the next round, knowing Honey would want to avoid Penny as much as possible. The only person with a history with Pete Mitchell that could rival the one of Honey’s was Penny Benjamin.

“Overboard!” The bar patrons chanted.

Jake and Payback gleefully made their way towards the bar, happy to be the ones who tossed out the fool in question. She doesn’t see who it is with everyone crowding the bar, so she makes her way to where she’s sure she’ll find her husband. The keys of the piano sounded as Bradley made sure it was in tune, and his better half slid in next to him, ready to sing along.

When Jake reenters the bar, Honey doesn’t miss the way he looks like he’s seen a ghost. They make eye contact and her eyebrow raises in question. Jake just replies with a slight shake of his head, a silent “we’ll talk about it later.”

Later never came, Honey had stayed glued to Bradley’s side, ready to run interference between her husband and her best friend, and Jake had slipped out with his catch of the night.

She woke to a text from Jake claiming they needed to talk later that day and she replied by inviting her to dinner at her and Bradley’s temporary barracks that evening.

Her husband was being unusually standoffish as they got ready. He normally always found a reason to have his hands on her, to shower with her, to leave kisses on her neck as they got ready for the day. But he wouldn’t even look at her in the mirror.

“Tank. What’s going on?” She asked.

“Nothing?” His reply was short.

“You haven’t even kissed me good morning,” Honey pouted.

“I gotta head out, I’ll see you later?” He offered with a kiss to her head.

The fuck?

“You don’t want me to drive you?”

It was their normal routine, riding to work together in the morning or one dropping the other off if they weren’t assigned to the same mission.

“Nah, wanna get there early today. I’ll see you for dinner,” he offered no other explanation before he left for the day.

That was the first time he ever left the house without kissing her lips first. She shrugged it off as nerves over this top secret mission that is apparently insanely dangerous and planned to help him relax when he got home that night.

Honey had taken leave for this week, wanting to be here as Bradley settled into his new routine for this mission. She hated idle time, so she made a day of grocery shopping in anticipation of what all Bradley would need while she was gone. The poor man would be living on Ramen and takeout unless she did something about it, so she planned to put crockpot kits together and freeze them so he would have home cooked meals on occasion.

The hours ticked by and it was time to start dinner before she knew it. Just as she pulled the dish out of the oven, there was a knock on the door. Honey frowned, realizing Bradley hadn’t made it home from work yet, and opened the door for Jake.

“Is Bradley with you?” She asked the blonde.

He looked genuinely confused for a moment before answering. “No, I haven’t seen him since we left the hangar. He’s not home?”

Honey felt a pit in her stomach as Jake shut the door and she led him to the kitchen. She fired off a text, asking where he was. He replied with a lackluster “out,” and she almost started crying.

“Everything okay Vee?” Jake asked.

“Yeah! Just fine, Bradley’s just spending some extra time at the gym today, said he was stressed,” she covers for him smoothly.

“Shit, I’m surprised he could even hold his phone up enough to text. I bet his arms are noodles after all the pushups he did today. Which brings me to what I need to talk to you about…” Jake trailed off.

“What, Bradley’s physique not cutting it for you anymore?” She attempted to lighten the mood.

“Your dad’s here. I threw him out last night at the bar…and he’s our instructor for the mission,” Jake explained and hung his head.

The breath punched from Honey’s lungs.

Shit.

That explains why Bradley didn’t come straight home.

“Thanks for telling me, Jake,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’m glad you came by, too.”

Jake tilts his head to rest it atop Honey’s. “What are you gonna do? I know it’s been weighing on you.”

“Honestly? I miss him, Jake. I miss him so much. I’m almost 30 for fuck’s sake. I think it’s about time I act like a grown up. Besides, Bradley and I talked about maybe trying to start a family in the next few years. I wouldn’t want to bring a baby into dysfunction if I can avoid it,” Honey sighed.

“Aww baby Bradshaws coming soon??” Jake teased. “We’d have to call you Baby On Board instead of Bob! But hey, whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here for you.”

Jake left after dinner and Bradley stumbled home a few hours later, smelling like he drank the whole bar. He ignored all of his wife’s attempts to talk and faceplanted in the bed, falling asleep immediately.

The pattern continued over the next few days, Jake coming over for dinner and Bradley curing his liver in bottom shelf whiskey. The day before she was due to head home, she decided to reach out to her dad. They agreed to meet for dinner off base and Jake would covertly sit a few tables over in case she needed him. She wished it was Bradley there for support, but he had barely spoken to her the last few days. There’s no way he would have agreed to come with her if he wouldn’t even kiss her.

Dinner went better than she had planned, the pair were eager to put it all in the past and move forward in repairing their relationship. They laughed, they cried, and they hugged. Honey felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and her smile was bright when Jake slipped into the empty seat Mav had just vacated.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I gotta talk to you about your husband,” Jake started.

Honey’s heart stalled, thinking the worst. Jake’s eyes widened when he realized how it sounded.

“Shit! I didn’t mean it like that, you know I’d murder him if he stepped out on you. He’s…not been flying at peak performance. Something’s holding him back and I’m worried.”

“I need him to come home to me, Jake. Promise me you’ll do everything you can to bring them both back. I need you to push him for me. I can’t get through to him lately, but nobody gets under his skin like you do,” she pleads. “I have to go back home tomorrow, so I’m trusting you with both of them. I know it’s a big ask, but you’re up for it.”

She gives him a warm smile and he knows she meant every word she said.

“Pinky promise,” he grins back, holding his little finger out towards her before she links hers around his.

Jake kept his promise, pushing Bradley to the point of explosion. Honey was more than a little irritated Jake brought Goose into it, but it worked. Her heart about fell out of her ass when she found out she almost lost both her dad and her husband on the mission, but Jake had kept his promise once again and brought them both home in the nick of time. Things improved drastically when they returned home, Bradley and Mav had both started repairing their relationship as well and the Bradshaw couple returned to normal.

29 years old

“Happy birthday dear Honey, happy birthday to youuuuuu!”

Honey was celebrating her birthday at the Hard Deck, surrounded by the Daggers who were now permanently housed out of Miramar and led by her dad. She was still based out of Lemoore, but the short trip down the coast wasn’t terrible every other weekend.

She turned, ready to give her husband a kiss after blowing out her candles, but he wasn’t behind her. He wasn’t anywhere in her line of view, and she frowned.

Things had been rocky between them lately. Bradley had been pushing more and more for her to retire so they could start a family, but she wasn’t quite ready to hang up her helmet just yet. It’d been a source of a lot of tension, worsening every day. She couldn’t remember the last time Bradley had made the trip to Lemoore, let alone the last time they’d had sex. Honey felt like she was putting more effort into making their marriage work while her husband just sat back and demanded things from her, then punished her when he didn’t get his way.

Honey felt the hurt rising in her chest and slipped away with the excuse of needing to use the bathroom. She splashed water on her face, washing the tear steams off of her cheeks after managing to get her emotions under control. When she exited the bathroom, she ran directly into a firm chest and bounced off of it.

“Oof!” she stumbled before strong hands caught her elbows, steadying her on her feet.

When she looked up, she was only slightly disappointed to see mossy green eyes filled with concern instead of the whiskey brown ones she’d been hoping for. It wasn’t a surprise though, Bradley hadn’t paid her much attention lately. But Jake had. He’d seen the light and happiness slowly fade from her eyes over the last year and it killed him to see it happen.

“What’s going on, Vee? And don’t lie to me and tell me nothing, I’ve known you for too long.” He pleads.

She smashes her lips into a flat line, trying to think of something that didn’t paint her husband in a bad light.

“It’s Bradley, isn’t it?” Jake supplied.

Honey gasped and tears welled in her eyes again. “How did-how did you know?”

“I’m more observant than I let on, you know that. I’ve seen the effort you put in, but I haven’t seen any returned to you,” Jake says gently.

“He’s mad I’m not ready to be a stay at home mom and wife yet,” Honey’s lip wobbles.

Jake’s heart shatters. He knows how much she loves her job, how much she’s already sacrificed for his teammate. It’s unfair of him to ask her to give up more. He takes a second to tamp down the rage he’s feeling before he leaves her with something to consider.

“Honey, are the teardrops he puts on your cheeks worth the one he put on your ring finger? Before you insult me, I know it’s technically a pear shaped stone, but it doesn’t sound as clever,” he tries to make her laugh.

It works, and he revels in the small giggle that escapes her.

“Now, there’s a party to celebrate the last year of your 20s, no more crying in the corner!”

With that, he drags her back to where their friends are waiting and he’s proud of the fact she seems to be genuinely having a good time for the rest of the night.

6 months later

“I’m doing it. The papers are officially filed,” Honey exhaled heavily into the phone.

“How do you feel about it?” He asks.

“Surprisingly free. I’m kinda frustrated I waited so long to do it, I didn’t realize how unhappy I’d been until this very moment,” she breathes.

“I’m proud of you, Vee. I know leaving the only constant you’ve known your entire adult life wasn’t an easy decision to make, but you did it. And I’m so proud of you for being so brave,” he compliments, knowing she needs it at the moment.

The follow up is here! Read That Pretty Girl’s In Pretty Good Hands now 💕

Honeyverse 🏷️s:

@whatislovevavy @marvelousnightjengale @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @sweetwhispersofchaos @dempy @wkndwlff @hangmanshoney @trickphotography2 @aviatorobsessed @buckysdollforlife @horseshoegirl @callsign-magnolia @hisredheadedgoddess28 @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @seresinsweetie @jynxmirage @teacupsandtopgun @withahappyrefrain @djs8891 @hardballoonlove @seresinhangmanjake @dingochef @everythingmarveltopgun @scarlettwidow19 @shanimallina87 @a-reader-and-a-writer @thewulf @penwieldingdreamer @desert-fern @thedroneranger @sebsxphia @sailor-aviator @goldenseresinretriever @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @littleenglishfangirl @ohtobeleah @ereardon @jupitercomet

#what if...? tgm fanfic edition #mama mayhem writes #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw imagines #into the Honeyverse #Jake x Honey #Bradley x Honey #Honey Mitchell #Honey Bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #best friend Jake Seresin #natasha trace

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rollingaroundin-bread · 10 months

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Hi 🥺 what if they- 👉👈 what if they got mawwied???? 💕💕💕

Okay hi I’ve been working on these on and off all month (mostly off I got really busy whoops) and I have A LOT of thoughts about a Legbone wedding (ft. the drawtectives cause they really are my blorbos)

Anyways here’s a list of headcannons that I didn’t get to draw:

So right off the bat let’s talk OUTFITS

To me Legzi and Ryjinah had gone looking for dresses but Legzi wasn’t really pumped about any of them

So maybe they went on a road trip (because ladies bookclub road trips my beloved) to either go look in a different boutique or to do other wedding related shenanigans

And on the side of the road Legzi spots this rag

And of course it’s a torn up wedding dress and suddenly she has a Vision^TM

Just Legzi being more excited about fixing up this dress than anything she could have just bought up to that point

Because to me Legzi is someone who loves to feel like a part of the process and having all her random skills she picked up from Darkmouth

Then design wise I wanted something puffy so I could hide how much taller I made her

Because personally I think her using the leg stilts on her wedding day is not only very Legzi^TM but I also made myself laugh with the concept :)

And florals because those are fun, green, and easy to make by hand (as someone who’s made a lot of ribbon flowers)!! The vines were places where the dress was really torn and needed more structural stitching

Ryjinahs dress on the other hand I wanted to take some inspiration from her season 1 design (even though I haven’t seen it)

Also I love a chance to draw some boob

so anyways York’s invitation

I’ve said it before but “artists draw fan art of each other’s art” where Karina drew Ryjinah, York, Rowan, and Jacob horse all hanging out is CANON TO ME

Which is why all of those characters were invited!! :)

Anyways I imagine all the invitations had your standard stuff- names, dates, rsvp section

But where it would’ve said +1 I think Ryjinah scribbled that out and hand wrote “+2 ;)”

Which of course Grandma would be slightly flustered by meanwhile York is like “AWESOME you guys can come!!!”

I believe in drawtectives polycule supremacy and also York is aroace

Which also lead to my miniature leg wrestling joke :)

Oh but the second York and Rah’ōxah lock eyes they’re going to leg wrestle (Pokémon rules)

Then they can become friends too and we can make Julia’s drawing in “pro artists redraw their old OCs” canon!!!

Rah’ōxah is both Legzi and Ryjinahs maid of honor :)

She’s awesome of course she can do both!!!!!!

I wish I had drawn this but to me Parker the cat officiated :)

Maybe while standing on top of Parker the horse

Ryjinah was not pleased with this but also couldn’t say no to the combined force of Legzi and Rah’ōxah’s puppy dog eyes

Plus Parker the cat is the only person (cat) they know who’s ordained

Oh last thing I wanted to but didn’t draw was a Rosé & Rowan interaction

Or not even so much of an interaction but they catch each other’s gaze from across the room and freeze

Oh more headcannons but they’re siblings to me

I mean dyed hair? Knives? Mysterious pasts? Color schemes?? Attracted to himbos???

Anyways they both have moved on from their family in different directions

So to suddenly meet again even from across the room

Then York or Gramdma calls for Rosé and she looks away and they’re gone

But I digress

Tbh for everyone’s outfits I kinda just went “you know what would be cute???”

So floral dress for grandma (obviously)

Jumpsuit + long gloves for Rosé because vibes

Unbuttoned shirt and double breasted vest for York so he doesn’t have sleeves

Similar thought process for Rah’ōxah because they give off similar vibes BUT I made Rah’ōxah’s the same colors as Ryjinah and Legzi so she could match both :)

Then a demon Johnny button on her outer vest kinda like the pin/broach she has in Julia’s drawing in pro artists redraw old OCs

Rowan I just wanted to look swanky and what’s more swanky than a tailcoat?

And for everyone but Rah’ōxah I tried to keep to their normal color schemes!! :)

Are all these outfits practical for what I made a beach wedding on a whim? Absolutely not

I gave pretty much all of them some sort of heels even if they are technically wedges which is better but STILL

Beaches are fun and easy ish to draw and I never do backgrounds anyways give me a break lol

But anyways I think that’s all my thoughts!!!

So Legzi & Ryjinah ride into the sunset on their noble steed Jacob Horse :)

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blingblong55 · 10 months

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Feels so right- Colonel König nsfw

Based on a request:

Can I make a smut request based on this TikTok please? If you’re up for it. Exclude the murder in the video, but I swear König holding the knife at OC’s neck does something in me inside

GN!Reader, knife play?, 18+, smut, MDNI

His right hand at your waist whilst the other held a knife to your throat, his lips near your ear. “What’s wrong, Liebe, can’t take me now?” His voice low, hinting at his excitement towards your past actions towards him.

A/n: it'll be somewhat short, but please enjoy

It has been known for a while now that Kasper Team and KorTac have had their indifferences since the time they were both created. Always feuding with because they interfered with a mission on purpose. You were the youngest member, still learning from the others and who KorTac had become to you all. You and a teammate were assigned to watch over the mission, mainly because KorTac could interfere, and this was a mission you guys didn’t need any problems to. As you stood on higher ground, you saw two army trucks drive towards where your team was. Three soldiers got off and ran towards you guys.

Your teammate and you knew this could happen, so as your teammates was getting ready to snipe, you made sure to ready your gun to defend him. König slid threw a smoke grenade near you. Before it went off you kicked it away. Earning a few shots to get fired from both you and them. Your teammate shot the tyres of the KorTac vehicles, he stood up by your side,

“We don’t want to fight right now, just leave us alone.” The man was beyond your years, he had been in team years before you even joined the military.

His other gun by his side, sending a warning to them. König chuckles, his hands resting on his hips, “You think you’re scaring us off so easily?” he walks closer to you, leaning a little down, trying to intimidate you by the height difference. “We won’t ask you twice.” You spoke up.

“Tsk tsk tsk, you see, we don’t care.” König’s gaze piercing through you. Your teammate knew the game he was playing, but before he could say anything, a shot was fired behind them. You all look to see who had done it. Only to find your commander and KorTac’s commander walking towards you all. “At ease, all of you. From today forwards, we claim brotherhood amongst our teams.” Your commander said which was followed by a nod from the other man.

“This is a joke, yes?” König asked, “No, it’s real, we are done playing cat and mouse, from today forwards, we all have a common goal, take down the shit team of Hellgate.”

“Why now?” “They are planning to bring us both down, so, why not team up, take them down one by one and then we kill all our common enemies” KorTac’s commander spoke.

“Now get in the cars, we have a celebration to do.

Your teammate and you let out a small chuckle, which was followed by some stares from everyone. “what’s funny?”

“Before this shit…I shot their tyres” “Verdammte hölle” König murmurs.

“Hey, how were we to know you two were becoming friends when I shot their tyres, so don’t fucking blame us.”

“Then, I guess you two will walk it home so KorTac can fit in our vehicles.”

“Works for us” your teammate said.

And for an hour, you two walked back to base. Laughing at the shit you two had done. The walk back would’ve been shorter, but you two decided to take longer, just to infuriate the KorTac a little.

When you two walked in, your commander and theirs looking at you two.

"where the hell where you two?"

"had to help some old lady, sir" he lied

"right"

For hours through the evening you all shared laughs, stories and lots of drinks. By morning some had hangovers, and since your commander insisted that KorTac should stay the night, you found yourself stuck with König in the training room.

"Pass me the rifle, bitte" König said as he cleaned off his gun.

"It's closer to you, so just get it."

"Yes, but don't you want to be nice to me?"

"no, I actually don't"

"and why's that?" his accent rougher now.

"I'm just not nice to pricks like you."

"take it to the mats!" Nikto spoke.

You both looked at him and then at each other.

And for nearly 30 minutes, you two sparred, some placed bets, others just watched. It ended in a tie, something neither of you liked, but had to just call it.

For days the two teams trained together, expect that you weren't around for much of it. You had been off to meetings, König did wonder though, if maybe you had been avoiding him. You had him intrigued the minute your hands touched his chest as you pushed him to the ground. That night, he had to admit he touched himself in your name. He also had excused himself to the restroom one he thought of the way your body looked on top of his.

After four days of not seeing you, there you were in the shooting range, you looked angry for some reason. He approached you, "Your stance is incorrect."

"Piss off."

"Just helping."

"Yeah, sure"

He kept staring at you, and once you felt his judge stare, you turned to him.

"what."

"why don't we go to the mat and you let your frustration on me."

"and why would I want that?"

"let's be honest, you need it."

"No."

Soon, he grabs you and throws you over his shoulder.

"Put me the fuck down!"

"No."

Once he reached the mat, he put you down, you looked at him, clearly angry. You pushed him, only to have him take like two steps back, chuckling.

"Oh I know you can do better, Liebling"

"I can."

"yeah?"

"Yes, I can take you in a fight."

He shook his head, "all you've done was say you can, but you see, I need proof."

He wanted to feel your body against his, whether it'd be you beating him up, or having you naked on top of him as he took his time with you. If he could feel you against him, he would be satisfied.

You walked away from the mat, leaving him feeling horny and needy for you. And best believe he didn't like that one bit. So, after asking around, he found out where your room was. He knocked on your door, once you opened it a small smile fell upon his lips. He walked into you room.

"Yeah sure, come in." Your voice tired.

"I think you owe me a small match sergeant."

"Is this a command or just you annoying me?"

"Well, considering I am a colonel, and our teams are now brothers...its a command."

"Yeah, no."

"No? Wasn't it you saying you could take me in a fight?"

"You're still with that shit?"

"C'mon, you want to do it, so go ahead."

"Now?"

"Better in private." He towered over you.

You took that as a sign and immediately grabbed his arms and with another move, he was on the floor. He chuckled a little, "All you got?" and with that, he pushed you off, standing up with a knife gripped to his fist.

"Oh sergeant, I know you can do better."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, matter of fact, do it again."

You nod and try that move one more time, before you could pin him to the floor, he had your body pressed against his.

His hand traveling down your waist, "I know you want me, liebling."

He makes you kneel down, "C'mon, I know you want to." His voice now low. Your hands at end of his zipper as you smiled up with doe eyes. The tip of his knife under your chin, he made you look at him. You slowly lowered his trousers, his bulge making you more excited, soon, as he grew desperate, he took matters into his own hands.

His throbbing length on his hand, his finger tips parting your lips. He made you spit on it and soon you took him into your mouth. He had a hold of your head, gripping it as you sucked him off. His moans louder by the minute. He groaned and bucked his hips, trying to get more out of your pretty mouth.

"just...yes...just like that...oh mein" His voice hinting the small whimpers that would escape his lips.

He wanted to compare his size to your face, so he took it out of your mouth and slapped it against your lips and cheeks, you licked it up and down. Tears down your face from when you gagged and choked on it. Some of his saliva from when he'd spit in your mouth, also dripped down.

A smile would appear when he'd hear you gag on his cock, but he would make you stay there, trying to sculpt your pretty little mouth and throat to his size.

What you couldn't fit would be on your hand, jerking it off as you tried to take him all in your mouth. When he was close to cumming, he stopped you for a bit. His knife still on your chin as he caressed your face.

He spit on his hand and mixed it with your tears and the pre cum he left behind when he slapped your face with his cock. "You don't take your pretty eyes off me when I cum, understand?"

"Yes" He slapped you a little, "Yes what?"

"Yes, sir" You replied

"Good boy/girl."

Once more, you started to give him head. He moaned and gripped your hair as he was started to get close to his climax. It was starting to get messy for you, all of the liquids mixing in your mouth and around your face, his pubic hair at times coming in contact with your face when he'd thrust a deeper into your throat.

His moans louder than before and he came undone in your mouth. He pulled out and looked at you, cleaning some of his mess from your lips.

"Swallow." He commanded, the same knife back at your chin. And as his dumb little slut, you obeyed. You swallow his warm and sticky fluid, you opened your mouth to show him how well you had obeyed and he smiled.

He leaned down and kissed you. His hands at the sides of your face as he deepened each kiss.

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

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

A/N: my brain died a little and I think you can tell where exactly...anyways, to those asking how I get in the mood to write smut, I listen to music and eat some crisps whilst writing this. :)

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frankcastleonlyfans · 1 year

Text

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒

pairing: aemond targaryen x daemon's daughter!oc (dad!daemon x mom!reader au)

warnings: angsty (?), aemond is a bookworm and a worried father, alyssa couldn't care less about old lady vhagar, they both have trouble with their feelings about each other.

author's note: i really love alymond's relationship. they're top tier enemies to lovers and i'm living for them. also, the face claim for alyssa is freya allen as ciri in the witcher, so picture her with silver hair and violet eyes.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

gif by @useraelin

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

Alyssa always had trouble sleeping. Is something Daemon had, and passed it on to his favorite child.

On these sleepless nights, the young princess would find distraction in old pages from the old books on the old shelves at the library inside the Keep.

Her favorite place in the castle, Alyssa had great memories there, where her father taught her high-valyrian, where she used to play hide from her septa, and where she would find refuge from insomnia.

What she did not know is that Prince Aemond shared the same feelings about the library. The place where he had studied his whole life, to be better and smarter than everyone else.

So she wasn't expecting to find the Prince's slim figure, sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

Blushing, Alyssa gulped, quite startled by the sight of her cousin. He wasn't wearing his eyepatch, and his sapphire glowed in the firelight.

She had a full view of the scar she gave him.

They had not seen each other since they shared a kiss, four days ago.

"I believe the hour of the owl is not up for little girls to be out of bed." Aemond muttered, too focused on his book.

"Fuck off, Aemond." The princess retorted, and went in search of a book.

When she found one she was familiar with, she wandered around the room, looking for a warm place to sit, but none was better than the empty armchair by the fireplace, beside Prince Aemond.

"You can sit here, I won't bite." He voiced in a murmur, and his eye never left the old page he read, to look at the princess.

Alyssa sat on the armchair, and stared at the cover of the book without saying a word.

Perhaps the princess thought that ignoring her cousin would make the moment less awkward, but it didn't.

It wasn't very often that Aemond was seen without his eyepatch, and she tried hard not to stare.

She thought he was already gorgeous, but that precious stone that replaced his eye made him look something more.

"What are you reading?" The princess asked lowly.

"Now you want to do small talk?" Aemond cocked an eyebrow as his smirk threatened to make an appearance.

Alyssa tsked, rolling her eyes.

"I'm reading a chapter about the life expectancy of dragons. Vhagar is not getting any younger, and if something happens to her..."

"Didn't Balerion die at 200 and something? Isn't Vhagar like... 180?" The princess questioned.

"181." Aemond corrected.

"Gods, that thing is really old." Alyssa mocked, playing with her fingers.

Aemond finally turned his head to face her. His sapphire glowed to the firelight, the beautiful shade of blue contrasting with the prince's pale skin tone.

"She's the last living piece from the conquest. You should pay some respect."

Alyssa scoffed, "Aemond, she's a living burden. She's as slow as she's big. You should hope she dies so you can claim a better dragon. Maybe the wild ones will let you tame–"

Aemond slammed his hand against the arm of the chair, offended by the princess' idea.

"You have no idea what it’s like to be dragonless! They're what makes us what we are! Dreams didn't make us kings, dragons did!" Aemond closed the book in his hands harshly.

"I–" The princess frowned. She was quite hurt that her words actually affected him. "I am sorry, Aemond. It wasn't my intention to make you angry."

Aemond sighed, staring at the book resting in the princess' hands. She had not opened that book once since she took it out of it's shelf.

"What is yours about?" Aemond nodded at the book. Alyssa followed his direction to her hands.

"Tales of Old Valyria." She murmured, "It's my favorite book."

"Oh. I've read this one. It's m– hm, It's really good." Aemond bit his lip, turning his back to her and facing the fire.

They stayed in silent for a couple of minutes, but there was nothing comfortable about it. It was awkwardly strange, and Alyssa still felt bad for mocking Vhagar.

And she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss, and how Aemond's soft lips felt against hers.

And how handsome he is without his eyepatch.

And his scar... the one made by her hands. She felt bad about that, for the first time. They were just children. Stupid children, she thought.

"I'm sorry."

Aemond half turned to her. He wondered if she was really talking to him, and what she felt sorry about.

"I– I'm sorry about your eye." Alyssa whispered, her voice could barely be heard.

Aemond chuckled softly, "You're a few years late, Alyssa."

It took him a few seconds before he added;

"I'm sorry about your cat."

The princess smirked, staring at the man in front of her.

Aemond was so different from what he normally looked like.

His hair was tied in a low ponytail, and it rested on his shoulder.

He wore linen clothes, like he was off to bed. And yet there he was, in front of her. Both alone, in the library, during the late hours.

And to the fire that warmed the space around them, Alyssa was sure he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

"You're a few years late, Aemond."

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au #dad!daemon targaryen au

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callsignspark · 3 months

Text

Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5.2

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, like soooo much flirting, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 3.6k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday! I hope everyone had lovely holidays and 2024 is going well for you so far! I did have some issues tagging people so apologizes if you didn't notified! I really loved writing this chapter, especially since it's going to help set the stage for the rest of the story! (only 4 more parts to go! isn't that crazy??) please be safe if you have snow coming towards you this weekend, and enjoy these two pining and yearning for each other more than ever.

part 8.5.2 - rambling and rings

Friday, April 16, 2021

Mary waves at the obnoxiously large SUV as Slider honks and drives away. Leaning against the entryway table, she slips her heels off and wiggles her painted toes at the feeling of the soft runner beneath her feet. Shuffling over to the entertainment console, she hums as she connects her phone, choosing the song that was on in the car.

The dreamy guitar intro floats through the air, making her smile. And the last beams of golden sunshine disappear as she dances through the living room, enjoying the peaceful feeling that’s settled in her chest and closing the blinds in between twirls.

Good things are happening at work, rumbles that there’s a promotion coming on the horizon. The monthly call back home to her parents hadn’t ended in tears for the first time in months. Most of her evenings are spent in the company of at least one Dagger family member, helping Kris and Dani with their kids or enjoying the adult-only life with Aaron and Flora. Bradley is messaging her as often as he can, every email making her heart flutter, increasing her joy with every sentence he types.

Everything is coming together in ways she had never even dared to dream about.

An early dinner with Ron, Mav, and Penny was the cherry on top of a great week. The four of them laughing and telling stories the entire time, taking advantage of the warm spring weather at the patio table Pete had reserved for Slider’s birthday. As stories and photos were traded across the table, Mary felt like her heart could burst learning about baby Bradley. The only quiet moment of the evening was when their waiter brought an unordered round of drinks to the table, prompting the men to venture inside and thank the old Navy buddy that had spotted them through the window.

“Thank you, Matt; it was getting just a tiny bit too windy for us.”

“No problem, ma’am.” The young man smiles over his shoulder as he finishes turning the outdoor heater on. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”

“I think we’re good for now, thank you,” Penny answers, glancing at Mary, softening at the sight of the younger woman lost in thought as she stares out at the ocean with a content smile.

She watches as brown eyes drift from the water to the table, gentle fingers tracing over a copy of a photo that’s older than the girl studying it. Penny stays quiet, letting the sound of waves crashing on the sand accompany the slight furrow that creases Mary’s brow as she brings the photo closer to her face.

“He looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?”

“He does; he acts a lot like him, too, more than he realizes.”

“You knew him?” It’s not a surprised reaction, just curious.

Penny hums, “We weren’t close, but I knew him enough to see how much Bradley has turned out like him. He’s a good blend of both his parents.”

“Did you know Carole very well?”

“More than Nick, by default, but for the most part, we were at different stages in life. She was older than me by a few years. I was in college and she was a widow raising a toddler. But, as you know, the aviator community is pretty small, so we were friendly. I would even babysit Bradley sometimes when the guys were deployed.”

“He was a cute baby,” Mary says softly, eyes back on the last photo taken of the whole Bradshaw family.

“He was… turned out to be a handsome man, didn’t he?” Penny asks, taking advantage of the moment.

She smirks as the younger woman looks up at her through her lashes, a shy smile stretching her pink cheeks. “He did.”

“Can I ask you something while they’re still inside?”

“We’re not together. But we are going on a date the week after he gets back.” Now it’s Mary’s turn to smirk at how Penny’s eyebrows rocket up to her hairline. “That is what you were going to ask me, right?”

“It’s close enough. Are you excited?”

“I am. I really like him.”

It’s the first time she admitted it out loud to anyone other than her best friend. She revels in the encouraging energy and words Penny gives back, both of them still giggling like school girls when Pete and Ron return.

“What are you two laughing about?” Slider asks as he slips Mary’s wrap over her shoulders.

“Oh, nothing.” When Penny winks, she has the overwhelming urge to cry. The knowing look accompanying those two words is more affectionate and maternal than anything her mother has done in years.

Their hug goodbye lasts a few seconds longer than expected, and the gentle hands that smooth some stray hairs back make her throat tighten. Slider is quiet on the ride home; familiar with the many moods of Mary, he lets her work through her thoughts with the radio on low.

“Y’okay, kid?” He doesn’t speak until he pulls into her neighborhood, giving himself a five-block buffer to determine if a pit stop to the closest ice cream shop is required.

“Yeah. Just-” Mary pauses, trying to figure out how to best explain. “Just still getting used to it.”

“To what?”

“To how easy it is to just be me out here. Surrounded by people who have just folded me into their lives with zero hesitation, like I’ve always been here.”

“Mary, were you happy in Florida?”

“I was content. Getting to know you helped with that a lot, but let’s face it; if I was happy, I wouldn’t have been so excited to leave.”

“And you’re happy now?”

“I am. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

It's a cheesy line, but true. She knew that when she said it, accepting the light teasing that followed with a smile. One that hadn’t left her face as she said goodbye to her mentor, one that grows as the song starts again. She can’t help how big her grin gets. This song always reminds her of Bradley.

“I'm in love, I'm alive. I belong to the stars and sky.”

Letting the song stay on repeat, Mary stops in the kitchen for some water on her way to the bedroom. It’s still early - not even eight yet - but a full night’s sleep is calling her name, eyelids feeling heavy.

She slips her clothes off, folding the jeans for tomorrow and tossing her shirt in the laundry. A small groan of relief accompanies the unclasping of her bra before she slings it into the hamper. Turning the bedroom speakers down slightly as she enters the bathroom, a grimace instantly creases her face when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

“Jesus…” Her disbelief echoes in the room as gentle fingers rub over the harsh red lines where her clothes dug into her skin. It’s evident where the waistband of her jeans sat all day. And the tender spots under her arms lets her know it’s time to look for better-fitting bras, again. Mary tugs the leg of her panties up, relieved to see at least one piece of clothing hasn’t left its mark.

She’s massaging the sore spots on her chest, letting her warm hands diminish the pain, when her phone rings. Her eyebrows furrow deeper at the unknown number flashing across the screen.

Usually, at this time of night, she’d ignore an unknown number and let the other person leave a voicemail, but something in her gut tells her to pick up before it’s too late.

“Hello?” There’s a muffled response, and she scrambles to disconnect her phone from the speakers. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Hello, ma’am. Can I speak to Mariella Vertucci?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Lieutenant Corso in the communications bay on the USS Roosevelt. Can you confirm your identity with your full name, birthday, and the eight-digit code given to you by Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

Mary’s heart stops for a second. This is it. Bradley is calling. She’s going to get to talk to him after forty-eight days. Hear his voice. See his face.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry. Mariella Theresa Vertucci, born March 14, 1987. The code is 0125-2020.”

“Thank you, ma’am. One minute, please.” The soft clacking of a keyboard filters through the phone, the Lieutenant's tongue clicking as he types. “You’ve been verified. Does the phone you’re using have video chat capabilities.”

“It does, Lieutenant.”

“Excellent. Stay on the line, and in a few minutes, a video chat will come through with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. You have been allotted 30 minutes today. I am required to remind you that communication is not secure. This means, for security purposes, you cannot ask what time of day it is, what location, or how any missions have gone. Please confirm that you understand.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. I am also required to let you know that this video chat is conducted in a private area and will not be monitored. However, the audio will be recorded, so any lewd acts are discouraged but not forbidden.”

Mary can’t help the snort that escapes. “But not forbidden?”

“Uh- the uh-” She smothers a chuckle at how the kid trips over his words. “The Navy understands that loved ones are apart for long periods of time and can’t forbid any uh- urges that couples may wish to act upon during their chats. But we are legally required to inform everyone of the recording.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“No problem, ma’am. Please stay on the line, and your loved one will be joining shortly.” She giggles at how quickly the hold music starts, humming along to Anchors Aweigh as she clips her hair up, ready to take her makeup off. She’s about to wet a washcloth when the music cuts, and the video call comes through.

Taking a second to look herself over, Mary admires the tendrils that have escaped, perfectly framing her cheeks that are still flushed from the wine she had with dinner. The slightest bit still tipsy and a little frazzled about Bradley, she realizes just in time that she’s still only in her underwear, hitting the accept button and dropping the phone on the counter.

“One second! Just- oh, come on! Fuck!” She curses under her breath as she struggles to slip into her bathrobe. “Hang on, Bradley!”

Finally getting both arms in, she ties the robe, eyebrows raising in surprise at how it cinches her waist, before eagerly grabbing her phone.

“Hi, Mary.”

“Hi, Bradley.”

She greedily drinks him in. It’s been 48 days since she’s seen his handsome face or heard his warm voice - the longest since they met - and she’s missed him. Her heart clenches at how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever.

“Hi, honey.” The sweet name hits something deep inside, and she can’t help the tears that immediately form or the way her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, shit, Mary. Please don’t cry, honey.”

The emotional reaction surprises even her; she was expecting to be a bit overwhelmed, but nothing like this. It makes her feel a little ridiculous, crying about a man she’s barely even kissed. But you love him, her brain chimes in, sending more heat to her face.

“This is your uncle’s fault!” She laughs, swiping tears away and propping her phone against the mirror.

“Mav?”

She can’t help but giggle at his disbelieving tone as she reaches for a tissue. “No, Slider. He’s in town this week, and he may or may not - but definitely did - get me tipsy at dinner, like he always does!”

She trills on about dinner, telling him about the childhood stories that were shared and the baby photos that now live on her phone, not noticing the look on his face until he interrupts.

“You getting in the shower, Mary?”

The husky tone immediately grabs all of her attention, a shiver running down her spine at the smoldering look on Bradley’s face. She follows his eyes down, surprised to see how much her robe has come undone. The valley between her breasts is completely visible, and the fabric is threatening to expose her belly button - and more - if it’s not fixed.

“Oops…” She mumbles to herself, tightening the robe so much it pushes her cleavage together.

Normally, this is where her insecurities would ruin the moment - flooding her brain with terrible things. Make her spend the rest of the call analyzing how she looks in the tiny corner box, agonizing how prominent her double chin is from this angle. But the soft fuck that crackles through the phone squashes the anxieties before they can take root, shifting her attention to admire the man looking back at her.

And god, he is a man.

Bradley Bradshaw has always been gorgeous: tall, strong, and deliciously tan. But mid-deployment Bradley Bradshaw is a vicious attack to the senses. And the hormones.

His broad shoulders have gotten broader, filling the little privacy cubicle in the communications room so much that he’s brushing both sides of the walls. His curls are more golden than usual, clear evidence of time spent flying in the Pacific tropics. His tan is deeper, too, glowing even in the harsh florescent lighting, the bridge of his nose slightly sunburnt. His neatly trimmed mustache moves with his lush pink lips, warmth building in her core as her thoughts drift to the memory of how they felt pressed against hers.

“Mary?” She hums, eyes focusing back into the present and away from her favorite post-deployment reunion fantasy. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“You.”

It's clear he wasn’t expecting that answer from the way he drags a hand over his mouth to muffle a cruse, his eyes scrunching shut.

She wasn’t expecting it either; the effects of the wine have mostly worn off, leaving her with flushed cheeks and apparently a slightly looser tongue. She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about the overly honest answer. Communicating exclusively via email for the last month and a half has allowed Mary to gain confidence in Bradley’s feelings. It’s hard to wonder about his intentions when every email ends with him telling her how many days are left until he’s home.

“Your lips…” She continues, emboldened as the last remnants of wine soften the sharp edges of her insecurities and the pink working its way up his neck. She loves how easily Bradley blushes for her. Their few kisses have always ended with his cheeks a lovely, rosy shade. “How soft your hair is. Your mustache. How strong you are. How much I miss you…”

The words make them both pause. It’s not an uncommon phrase, every email containing some variation of the sentiment, but hearing the words out loud makes it real. Cementing the longing in their chests.

“I miss you, too.” The words are quiet, echoing against the tiled walls. She chuckles, throat thick with emotion, and Bradley can’t look away from her soft smile. His heart pounding at the emotion on her face, something he can’t quite place. He can’t stop staring as she picks the phone up and flicks the light off, “Where are we going?”

“Couch.”

He smiles as the familiar walls of her living room appear, grin going slack when she props him up on the side table, and the slit of her robe reveals a thigh that he’s dreamt about as she shuffles pillows. Bradley manages to pull his mind out of his post-deployment fantasy as she plops on her couch - that damn pink couch - and smiles at him over the arm, her eyes almost closing she grins so hard.

“I’m sorry I missed our call.”

“It’s okay, Bradley. I knew it was a possibility, and Mav let me know what was going on. I understand.”

“I want to hear about your birthday.”

“I told you about my birthday! We’ve discussed it extensively.”

“I still want to hear about it. I want to hear your voice.” He revels as she softly whines and smooshes her face into a pillow, thrilled to cause that reaction. “C’mon, please, Mary?”

“You’re not fighting fair.” The muffled complaint comes back, making him laugh, but she does as asked.

Bradley listens, humming along as she recounts her birthday for him and insisting for the hundredth time that it was his pleasure to give her presents. He lets her lead the conversation as it shifts to what’s happening in San Diego, content to watch her as she shares stories of what he’s missing at home. Happy to just admire her and occasionally ask questions.

It’s so easy to get lost looking at her. Dark hair swishing around her shoulders, just slightly shorter than it was in February. Her brown eyes look darker than usual, the low light in the room making them almost black instead of the warm brown he’s used to staring into. And despite resecuring the robe, it’s coming loose again, enough that the top curve of her breasts are visible; freckles dotted all over, disappearing beneath the baby blue fabric. Bradley thinks about what it would be like to connect the dots on her soft skin, tracing invisible lines with his fingers or lips. He imagines there’s more hiding behind the waffle material. He wonders if she’d let him find out.

The fantasy of how wonderful it would be to memorize every mark on her body is interrupted as red nail polish grabs his attention. He loves her hands, smaller than his but so strong when she’s working on a jet. Steady as she calls out instructions to her team, grease smeared up to her elbows and her nail color of the week shining through the black sludge. Mary insists that she doesn’t talk with her hands, that she managed to avoid that stereotypical Italian-American trait, but Bradley smirks as her hands swirl through the air. He’s about to interrupt the story she’s giggling through - something about the latest swear word that Danielle accidentally taught Annie - when something sparkly on her finger distracts him.

A ring.

A diamond ring.

A simple silver band lined with tiny diamonds.

On her ring finger.

On her left ring finger.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to study the never-before-seen piece of jewelry. Mary must notice his confusion because she cuts her story off and flashes her hand at the camera. “I bought this for myself when I got promoted for the first time. I went from EI to EII, which is entry-level engineer to associate engineer. It was $50 from this little shop that was on the same block as my first solo apartment in St. Louis.”

Relief sweeps through his body, thrilled that Mary hadn’t gotten engaged with him.

“That’s awesome. Have you done that every time you’ve moved up?”

“Kinda? I always buy myself some sort of gift - last time, I splurged and got that big blender we used at the Christmas party. But I’ve only done jewelry a few times. I think I’m going to get a necklace next time, something to match this.” She explains, wiggling her fingers so the gems shimmer in the camera.

“It’s very pretty.” Bradley compliments, feeling bold enough to go further. “You look good with a ring on that finger.”

“Jesus, Brad-”

She’s cut off by the two-minute alert popping up. They had been so distracted they weren’t paying attention to the countdown timer.

“Already?” Mary pouts, forehead crinkling as she frowns. “But I didn’t get to ask you about carrier food.

“It’s bad, honey. Yours is so much better.”

“Or how you’re sleeping.”

“Reuben’s snoring has somehow gotten even louder since last time we shared a bunkroom; Bob, Mickey, and I owe you for the extra earplugs you sent.”

“You’re sunburnt.”

“I’m wearing the sunscreen you gave me; the sun is just strong.”

“I knew I should have sent the SPF 75!” Bradley smiles as Mary throws her head back in faux despair. “Oh well, now I know for next time, I guess.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah. You didn’t think I’d only send you a care package one time, did you? I gotta make sure you have everything you need. I know I missed some stuff this time, but I’ll get better in the future! I promise.”

I love you.

He just barely holds the words in.

“God, I fucking miss you.” He stares at the screen, watching the prettiest brown eyes in the world fill with tears at his words. “Oh, honey, please don’t cry. I’ll be home so soon.”

“But twenty-four days is such a long time, and I miss you so much.”

“I know, but we’ve already done 48 days. Twenty-four will be a breeze to get through.” The timer starts blinking, the last 60 seconds counting down. “I gotta get going, Mary. But you keep sending me flirty emails so I have something to read and think about.”

He chuckles at the little surprised noise she makes. “You noticed that?”

“Did I notice that? Mariella, in the kindest way, you are not subtle.”

“Well- I-” She splutters. “Neither are you!”

“I’m not trying to be, baby doll,” Bradley revels in her reaction to the pet name - mouth dropping open as she blinks at him, cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen - one he didn’t even mean to use.

The flustered hand she waves at the camera while yelling at him makes him laugh. “Bradley!”

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Be safe. Only 24 days.”

“Only 24 days.”

“I miss you, handsome.”

Bradley's face feels hot, choked up at the look in her eyes, the softness of her words. “I miss you, too, baby doll.”

They don’t say goodbye, choosing to admire each other as the final seconds tick away.

5…

I can’t wait to see you in person.

4…

God, you’re so gorgeous.

3…

I don’t want to hang up.

2…

I miss you.

1…

I love you.

if you would like to be added (or removed) from the tag list please send an ask!

fic tag | credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #mar[r]y me fic #elle writes

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simpyshrimpy · 9 months

Text

New draconia family tree just dropped. some chap 7 spoilers, some are ocs still

i do not know how three generations of women mommy dragon ladies ended in a boy honestly i feel like that means its rigged. anyways-

Maldra Draconia - Big red dragon old as time itself, this is where the Draconia's get their pretty green eyes from. Also though, just like all of the Draconia's in canon twisted wonderland. she's an absolute horror. I'm talking country destroyer to the point that if Tenebris hadn't somehow accidentally seduced her- the world probably would have ended. and it only got worse from there, because.... both her and Tenebris were strong af so Maleficia came out even stronger...

Rex Tenebrarum - that's just his title technically. I just translated king of darkness into latin smh. Tenebris is his nickname. Fae names are power guys. He's so anal about it even his own wife doesn't know his true name. Which isn't to say that he doesn't love her, but just that he takes every measure necessary to protect himself and in turn, his family. Somehow he accidentally seduced Maldra and then she actually forced him to marry her- but don't worry- he was totally into it.

Maleficia Draconia- Somehow even stronger than both of her parents. Terrifying. Her dad kept her more mellow than her mother thankfully, but she's still horrible and her mother lets her cause havok anyways. Dad has to come in and stop her halfway but by then some citys are still gone....

Dante Draconia- He'll come up in the future, so i haven't decided much on him, but i do want it to be a theme where the draconia women just strong arm these men who accidentally seduce them into marrying them. Poor guy. He probably mellows out grandmommy draconia though.

Other than that, things will be close to the canon universe. Lilia, Mallenoa, and Raven will all still be childhood friends, although Lilia will be doing fieldtrips to Kumiko's mountain to train. Maybe for summer vacation! And of course, Mallenoa will not allow him to have fun without her- Which also means Raven comes too.

Grim, Kumiko and the reader will be like summer camp counselors with a world destroyer dragon fae, bratty little future hardcore general lilia, and also a bird who probably cries whenever he makes eye contact with kumiko.

Also no- i do not subscribe to the Crowley is Raven theory guys. C'mon. I wouldn't want any future where Mallenoa died tragically while Raven was still alive. I'd like to think he'd go to hell before he ever leaves her high and dry.

Also we'll probably try to prevent them from dying in this world. I haven't worked out the specifics yet. Maybe it ends up being their fate to die- or maybe I'll decide that since we hold some sort of power over this world, that we can defy even fate itself. It's the same problem I'll have to think over with Ortho. Since the original ortho is dead and the one we all know and love is just a recreation of a dead kid...

Welp. That's a problem for future Shrimpy. Not me. goodnight and please remember that i love malleus-

#twisted wonderland #twst demon fox au #twstdemonfoxau #demon fox!reader #kumiko #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus i love you bby #malleus draconia x reader #twst chapter 7 #twst spoilers #twist chapter 7 spoilers

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pommpuriinn · 2 months

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𝜗𝒞 TILL DEATH DO US PART 𝜗𝒞

ACT 1

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨synopsis୧⋆ ˚｡⋆In the kingdom of Anastasia the royal family holds a huge ball for all royals to come together, and start the search to wed their children together. The handsome Choi Beomgyu gets a lucky chance to enter the ball and feels love at first sight, Mo Yuri. Will their young love stay forever?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨warning୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ none

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨pairing୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ beomgyu x oc

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨author’s note୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ thanks to Laufey’s music for helping me write this and I hope ya’ll enjoy ૮ ᵔ 𖥦 ᵔ ྀིა

Laughter was heard at the huge garden that is covered with various flowers/trees, perfectly trimmed brushes in different shapes, mini waterfalls, and a final touch of ancient statues.

The two sisters were splashing each other with water from one of many ponds that are around the garden. “Ew! It got into my mouth unnie!” Danielle, the younger sister yelled. “That’s pay back!” Yuri, the oldest sister, laughed. The sisters didn’t mean to play in the pond, but Yuri did “accidentally” trip Danielle. Only because Danielle just kept on purposely bumping into Yuri to annoy her.

“Princesses?” Their nurse called out for them, making both of them stop immediately. “What do we do?” Danielle moved next to Yuri. Before they could do anything, nurse Min came around the corner and gasped at the sight. “Oh my goodness! princesses get out from there before your parents come to see.” Nurse Min pulled them out from the water. “Oh and there’s mud all of you two! And where are your heels ladies?” Before any of them can answer, nurse Min cuts them off. “Don’t tell me you ladies lost them.” The sisters just started playing with the little pebbles around them, clearly giving nurse Min an answer. “I’m taking that as a yes with your guilty actions showing.”

Nurse Min sighed, “I know I can’t stay mad at you guys, but let’s get inside and clean up.” Yuri grabbed Danielle’s hand and followed nurse Min back to their kingdom.

Nurse Min guided back upstairs and into a huge bathroom and in the center of the room was a huge sized tub filled with milk which is infused with herbs and honey decorated with flower petals. It’s an old trick to moisturize and exfoliate your skin that was passed down from family. “Please help the girls out of their dresses. We must throw them out as they have no use for us now.” Nurse Min instructed the other nurses in the room.

After the nurses got the sisters undressed they immediately climbed into the tub soaking in all the herbs. “Wow I always love the view here.” Danielle commented, as she stared out the wide window in front of them. “It never gets old huh? That’s why I stay here for hours.” Yuri smiled, as she turned around and rested her head on the edge while a nurse started scrubbing her head clean.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

As the sisters got done with their cleaning session and the nurse dressed them up with beautiful comfortable soft color silky corset gowns. Just as they finished getting ready for the rest of the day nurse Min walked in. “Princess Yuri, your parents are calling you down into the music hall, and don’t worry your secrets are safe with me.” Nurse Min smiled warmly at the sisters.

“Well I must go now.” Yuri stood up from her chair and kissed Danielle’s forehead before making her leave. Yuri started skipping her way to her parents, making nurse Min cautious. “Princess Yuri please be careful!” Yuri laughed her off, as she made her way down the long staircase into the main floor. “Your parents are right down there princess.” A guard instructed Yuri into another long hall with windows decorated all alongside the right wall.

“Mother! Father!” Yuri ran to them and hugged them. “Oh sweetie, beautiful as ever.” Her mother placed her hair strand behind her ear smiling down at her. “Well princess, we have some important things to talk about.” The king moved her to sit on the piano bench. “As you know my beauty of a daughter has turned into the right age to marry,” her father started. “And we decided to turn this wonderful music hall into a masked ball event to find the lucky one to take my daughter’s hand in marriage.” Both parents smiled at the future idea. Yuri’s smile disappeared the second her father brought up the idea of getting married. Yuri scoffed, “but I’m only seventeen don’t you think I’m still too young for that?”

“Not at all sweetie, I was your age when I met your father. We fell in love almost instantly when our parents introduced us to each other.” Her mother tried making her feel better, but it only made her feel worse knowing that even their parents forced them together. “What about Danielle? I still need to take care of her!” Yuri argued.

“Yuri honey, Danielle is thirteen she can take care of herself.” Her father tried to reassure her, but Yuri was already highly upset with everything. “We plan on having the ball tomorrow night. We invited all the kingdoms we know, so you can have a variety of princes to seek.” The queen brushes through Yuri’s long dark chocolate hair. Yuri pushed her mother’s hand away from her and got up and ran out the room while holding her dress up.

Yuri ran all the way to her room without catching a breath until she closed her door and locked it. Tears slowly came down, as Yuri threw herself down to her bed. “I don’t even know what love is. How can I marry someone I don’t even love nor care for.” Yuri was also worried about her little sister, she didn’t want to leave Danielle alone.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

“Breathe in and breathe out, focus.” He mumbled to himself before letting go of his arrow. The arrow hit smoothly right in the center of the target, a perfect ten. “Woohoo! Our Beomgyu gets a perfect score once again!” His friends celebrated Beomgyu’s third time getting a ten. Beomgyu playfully rolled his eyes because he knows his friends are just trying to annoy him. “Could we now have fun by the lake o’ mighty archer.” Kai bowed towards Beomgyu, messing with him even more. Beomgyu sighed while looking down trying to drag out his “thinking”. “Fine, but loser buys the drinks!” Beomgyu immediately dropped his bow and started sprinting towards the lake. “Hey! You assholes!” Yeonjun followed the group close behind.

The five teenagers ran through the little town trying not to bump into the citizens.

“Oh, sorry!”

“Excuse me!”

“Coming through!”

Of course the citizens weren’t that scared to cuss some of the boys out for almost bumping into them or even dropping their things.

“Cannon ball!” Beomgyu threw himself right into the lake without taking his clothes off. The rest of the boys followed into his footsteps when it came to not taking their clothes off either. “Aish, y-you gu-guys cheated.” A breathless Soobin came holding himself by the knees. “Unfortunately for you Soobin you owe us some drinks later.” Yeonjun teased, causing the group to laugh. “Fine but I’ll give you guys the money and one of you go in since you know…I’m the prince I can’t do things like that.” Soobin huffed.

“You know just becauseI feel bad for you me and Taehyun will go get the drinks later.” Beomgyu patted his back. “But first, feel the water!” Beomgyu pushed Soobin in. “Ah!” Soobin’s body met the cold water. The group erupted into laughter watching the prince swim back up. “And just when I was about to invite you guys over to an event.” Soobin said, as he took off his clothes with the rest leaving them in their underwear. “Invited us where?” Kai questioned.

“Well,” Soobin sighed. “My parents want me to get married to the princess of Anastasia, or at least spark her interest in me.”

“But you’re literally nineteen you should be having the time of your life!” Yeonjun was irritated at Soobin’s parents. “Being low class nobles does have its perks now.” Taehyun joked trying to change the mood. “Yeah I guess so.” Soobin gave a sorrowful smile at them. “But you guys are coming to this ball with me right?”

“But aren’t they going to know we’re low class with our apparel?” Beomgyu asked. “Lucky for us it is a masked ball, so only the men wear the masks so the women can choose their lovers. Don’t worry I have spare clothing you guys can borrow.” Soobin answered. “Is it your goal to win a woman's hand in marriage for your parents?” Yeonjun asked with raised eyebrows. “No! Of course not. I want to lay low as much as possible. Maybe you guys will find a woman instead of me.” He wiggled his brows at the boys making them laugh. “We have no interest in a love life right now, right boys.” Kai wrapped his arms around Beomgyu and Taehyun. “Right!”

“We’ll see then.” Soobin smirked.

#txt scenarios #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu scenario #txt x reader #txt scenario #romeo and juliet #txt imagines #beomgyu x oc #choi beomgyu x reader #tomorrow x together #choi beomgyu #txt beomgyu

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prpfs · 26 days

Note

hello! 🌟 (she/he pronouns) 25 year old, long time roleplayer searching for 20+ partners for a descriptive literate to novella style roleplay! it will most definitely include smut, the logistics of which we can go over-i am open to some dead dove / dark content. as of right now i am strictly looking for oc x oc!

i have found it is also a must for me to be able to chat with my partner ooc! if we don’t generally vibe outside rp, personally i’ve found it can totally kill the rp for me. i am the type of person that loves brainrottin’ and gushing over our characters together, as well as swapping any moodboards / playlists / head canons / etc. so i’m kind of hoping you do too!

my final must is that you have to be okay with plus size and/or poc face claims! I think diversity makes it all the more fun. additionally, trans and nonbinary ocs are totally welcome, but just know my character will probably be female/afab regardless.

so! for the most part i want some sapphic / fxf plots:

- okay no big idea here but the plot of the movie moulin rouge! could be set in the same era or modern, but something kinda angsty where a tortured/lovesick artist or poet x popular dancer / s worker who can’t fall in love

- vampire x human!!! pls let me play a mysterious, kinda scary but sweet vampire against your fragile lil human. could be some kind of arrangement situation or maybe humans seeking shelter in a storm, upon first meeting? idk some gothic romance beauty and the beast vibes with lesbians and vampires. or,, big scary vampire lady and her human pet just saying

- GIMME ALL AND ANY OF UR MONSTER OCS PLS, I’d probs play a human or something humanesque unless you specifically ask me for another monster

- opposites attract! if you let me play a punk or goth oc i’d love you forever, we can add all kinds of layers to this

- also open to any ideas, and we can always plot together our own stuff!

however! i would also love some mxf and being able to play a more submissive role-though all my characters are switches. for this, i’m open to spin any of the above plots for it but in all honesty if you have male ocs you’re dying to experience as girldads, i have a nerdy, anxious single mom oc i’m dying to write falling in love!

finally, this will be solely over discord! if interested, please leave a like and i’ll reach out.

like if you're interested and op will reach out

#sapphic rp #fxf rp #lesbian rp #oc rp #oc roleplay #original rp #fandomless roleplay #fandomless rp #1x1 rp #dead dove

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quickhacked · 13 days

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// oc in 15.

tagged by; @devilbrakers, thank you so much!! tagging; @reaperkiller, @vvanessaives, @hibernationsuit, @katsigian, @adelaidedrubman, @dickytwister, @rindemption, @noirapocalypto and YOU!

rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an oc, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the oc. bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

decided to do this for vincent since he is the main character of my cyberpunk universe and it's been a hot sec since i talked about him! these bits are all from various fics including the broker which is a long fic that i'll never shut up about. sorry. i've included more than just the dialogue since a lot of vincent's manner of speech is also in his body language and internal monologue :^) his voice claim is basically masc v from in-game but with very distinct southern flair

from chapter 7 of the broker:

‘Here we are,’ Vincent repeated, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket and flinching lightly when he heard an explosion in the distance. ‘Just another fuckin’ day in Night City.’

from an unreleased fic i still need to finish and post:

‘The Deckhead?' Vincent asked. 'Fried to a crisp. Found ‘im hooked up to the Net high off his tits- he had an intruder alarm set up but it caused him to panic, ‘n he disconnected himself too soon. Lights went out before I could do anything.’

paraphrased from this fic, showing that vincent can and will talk to johnny out loud whenever he wants:

‘What the fuck,’ Vincent blurted out, voice shaky as he took another step back. […] Johnny raised a hand and gestured vaguely at Vincent, and himself, and the space between them. ‘You don’t have to speak out loud when you- I feel like I’ve said this before.’

from an unreleased fic:

‘Maelstrom wasn’t too happy I was running off with their toys,’ Vincent answered, eyes lingering on the bruise on Vitali’s face. ‘Had to flatline half of ‘em before I could get out.’

from chapter 11 of the broker:

‘Peachy,’ Vincent said and gave him a thumbs up. His mantis blade was still deployed and he nearly cut himself with it.

from chapter 16 of the broker:

‘Right.’ He stepped back, visibly biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes wandered off into the rest of the living room and he did a mocking salute in Vitali’s direction. ‘Yessir.’

from chapter 2 of the broker:

‘Pleased to make your acquaintance?’ Vincent said, the sentence more a question than a statement, and he frowned slightly as he watched Dupoint walk around the desk and sit down opposite of him while unbuttoning the jacket of his slightly too big suit.

from an unreleased fic:

‘Yep, that was me,’ Vincent said in response, his voice suddenly a couple of octaves higher. Smooth talkin’, you fucking airhead. You sound like a damn high schooler.

from this fic, talking to johnny out loud again:

‘Right, ‘cuz apologizing means everything is instantly forgiven and forgotten,’ Vincent snapped, accidentally startling an old lady he passed by; he quickly raised his hand to her as an apology and fastened his pace.

from an unreleased fic:

‘Born ‘n raised in the Glen, yeah,’ Vincent answered, flinching when he noticed the edge of someone’s umbrella get dangerously close to his face. ‘Won’t find the nicest people there but at least they generally know they’re not the only gonk on the fucking road.’

from this fic:

‘Headache that comes and goes-’ Vincent paused and glared at Johnny. ‘- but yeah, peachy. And you’re right. Worrying doesn’t help anyone.’

from chapter 2 of the broker:

‘V has had a lot of things on his mind, as of late,’ Vincent dryly said. ‘Please do enlighten me.’

from this fic, talking to johnny out loud again:

‘Alright, speaking rights fucking revoked,’ Vincent cut him off, visibly startling Vitali who had just slightly leaned in to Vincent’s touch. ‘Piss off, Johnny. Jesus.’

from chapter 15 of the broker:

Grant Armitage. Some seemingly random Arasaka exec with “his greasy little fingers stuck right up Yorinobu’s golden ass”, as Vincent had described him a few days prior.

from chapter 2 of the broker:

‘A fully opened center.’ Dupoint paused, raised an eyebrow, and glanced back at Vincent. ‘Do you know what that move is called, V?’ Vincent shrugged, and swallowed his laughter. ‘Dunno. The American Nutcracker?’

#tag games #ask:vincent #yes i keep mentioning that he talks to johnny out loud most of the time but it's important for his character i need you to understand #it's funny to watch him startle everyone around him by suddenly starting to speak to johnny out loud. boy you could pretend you're on a cal #also i didn't really know who to tag for this because i'm out of the loop with who writes etc etc so i just grabbed some regulars #but as always feel free to kill me with hammers for whatever reason honestly i won't take it personally

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greekceltic · 9 months

Text

We're still putting the info together and the discord/website look like a tornado ran through them, but here is a break down of what Hetherev (2) is. This group is 21+ only. So is the discord. Hetherev was an ArtRPG on Deviantart that I created some years ago, with the help of a small group whose names I don't quite remember. I kept the name for sentimental reasons, but this group is new and uses Discord as its base. It is not a reset of or continuance of the former. It is its own thing, with new sets of challenges and a slightly different spin on the interdimensional trope Heth was originally based on.

From the website: Hetherev is a fantasy world that exists between other worlds. Anyone from anywhere can just happen into it! Getting there is easy. Getting out? ... Not so much. Drop an OC in our sandbox and progress its story by drawing challenges and exploring zones, and meet some other OCs along the way! Work at your own pace. There are no deadlines! Do I have to Rp? Nope. Roleplay is available if you want it, but this is an art challenge group that encourages its members to do more art and learn from the art that they do, while having fun progressing their character's story. It's an artist's playground and an excuse to draw your OC meeting the OCs of others. There are no deadlines and no pressure to return art if someone happens to draw your OC in their challenge. This group is 21+ and up only. I wish we could include all ages, but this is non-negotiable. We look forward to seeing you all when you turn 21- and of course ArtRPGs are not unique to us. Anyone can make one. Do I have to be an artist? An understanding of the basics and a willingness to draw characters in interactive scenes is required to do art challenges- so on some level yes. We accept a broad range of skill levels. However if you're not an artist and want to lurk, you're welcome to come do so. Can I lurk? Yup. At the moment I'm running it mostly by myself- and might decide to keep doing it solo. I also have old lady wrists. Please be patient with the approval process, lack of info, conflicting info, etc. The discord is already populated with people who were in the original group and know how this works, if you're confused just ask.

#hetherev

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satorugojooo · 2 years

Text

~Annoying roommates~

A/n: since we start to get more informations based on Kaveh, I couldn't stop thinking at how he and Al Haitham get along taking the fact that Kaveh was invited by Cyno to have a meal together with Tighnari and Collei and the whole time he complained about his annoying roommate (Al haitham) so here's Al haitham x gn!reader together with Kaveh!

Pairings: Al haitham x gn!reader

Warnings: none, maybe some nicknames but that's all also this is written before the release of Sumeru, so I apologize if the characters are written kinda oc. Also sumeru spoilers?

You were sitting together with Cyno, Tighnari and Collei at a table at a local restaurant waiting for a famous architect.

"So when did Kaveh say that he would come?" Tighnari asked and Cyno shrugged.

"He said he would be here but he's surely taking his sweet time." he said and all of a sudden you felt an arm on your shoulder.

"Hello hello ladies and gentleman's!" Kaveh said and you looked at him.

"So you finally thought of joining us huh, what about Al haitham? Had a rough time with him?" you asked knowing that these two surely started arguing like 2 monkeys.

"Ah my dear y/n you don't even want to know what your ass of a boyfriend did to me, on top of the fact that I wanted to rearrange his boring home, he even said it looks way better this way than my wonderful plan. How dare he." he said and you giggled.

"I see everything is alright then, now now, we shall get our orders right?" you said and Cyno nodded calling the waiter to receive your orders. After you all ordered something Cyno looked at Kaveh.

"So Kaveh, I heard your still struggling after you build the Palace of Alcazarzaray, didn't you manage to get in touch with the Akademiya? I'm sure they would help knowing that you planned and build on your own funds the prettiest building in sumeru." he said and Kaveh scoffed.

"No what I did it was for the city, I don't need anything from the Akademiya plus I can get back on my own soon enough, if I only could move away from that dopey gorilla it would be 10 times better." he said and you saw how Tighnari and Collei tried to hold their laughter while Cyno was... Stoic as always but you saw a hint of amusement even in his eyes.

"Oh c'mon Kavi, Al Haitham isn't that bad right, plus he offered to help you I think that's very good." you said while sipping some orange juice.

"Don't even get me started, I tell you y/n if you ever plan to live with this man get ready to respect his rules. This monkey won't even allow me to make noise when he's in his study saying that 'he needs full concentration for his ancient runes' I tell you, not those runes are ancient, he's the ancient one here, I bet even the ruin guards are more fun to hang around, and that time I tried to cook for him and ended up burning the eggs? He reminds me of that time even now, not to talk about how his house is just full of books and all sort of stone tablets with runes, my head will explode once from all the stuff he has there and when I tell him that we should throw some things he gives me a death glare and that's it, the audacity he has... "Kaveh started complaining and you all had to give your best not to laugh at this poor man's hardships.

When you were done with the meal you all started talking.

"Thank you so much for this Cyno, it was really fun hanging out around old classmates!" you said and he gave you a small smile.

"It was my pleasure, now Tighnari you should probably head back to the forest camp, please take care of Collei on the way." Cyno said and Collei huffed.

"Mr. Cynooo I'm not a kid anymore I can take care of myself even without Mr. Tighnari's help!" she said and you smiled.

"Still wandering at night trough the forest can be dangerous collei, you both take care!" you said and Tighnari smiled.

"Don't worry, we will be careful, good night, we will see each other soon!" he said as he and Collei left.

"I should probably head back to the Akademiya too, I still have some things I need to take care of." Cyno said and you smiled.

"Take your time Cyno, after all your a human as well." you said and he nodded.

"I will don't worry, good night and in case any of you see Al Haitham wish him my regards." he said leaving. You looked at Kaveh and smiled.

"I know you don't want to hear this but, let's go back to Al Haithams place okay?" you said and he frowned putting his head on the table. You couldn't stop your laughter this time and you started to laugh.

"Why are you so mean to me sis..." he said and you just got up.

"I'm not but, we better head back now, I still have to give Al Haitham some papers and you certainly shouldn't wander on the streets at night." you said and he nodded.

The way to Al Haithams home was pretty short, it would took 5 minutes if Kaveh wouldn't stopped at every single building to complain about how he could do something better.

"And were here!" you said as you knocked at the door and Al Haitham opened. When he saw you his eyes became soft and he gave you a smile, but that smile dissappeared as quickly as he saw Kaveh behind you.

"Oh I see your back." he said and Kaveh closed his eyes.

"Yeah I know you missed me a lot but hold still smart-ass." he said while stepping inside and Al Haitham just shook his head exasperated.

You giggled again and he looked at you.

"And what's so funny hm?" he said while he lead you to his study.

"Ah its nothing, I just love how you and Kaveh get along so well, honestly I think the whole city knows that your roommates." you said and he just scoffed.

"Please at least you stop talking about him for once." he said while he embraced you and you smiled.

"Fine fine I'm done, oh by the way I brought these from the Akademiya, some students found some interesting relics and they gave it to me so you could have a look." you said and he took the tablets putting them on the table. After he turned to you and smiled.

"It's already getting late, how about you stay here for tonight, you live kind of far from here and I would hate to let you go home all on your own at this hour." he said and you blushed.

"Ah only if I'm not bothering." you said and he smiled cupping your face.

"You could never bother me." he said giving you a small peek on the lips.

"You both are very cheesy right now you know?" Kaveh said passing by the opened door and you became red hiding your face in Al Haitham's chest. Seeing this he looked at Kaveh like he normally would.

"You can just go and sleep, you had a long day anyways." he told him and Kaveh scoffed

"Yeah yeah right, thanks mom." he said while leaving and you laughed.

"He honestly has interesting ways to call you..." you said while looking up at Al Haitham and he looked at you.

"Yeah... I'm aware" he said with an annoyed face and you couldn't help but laugh. These two were incredible...

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #sumeru #al haitham fluff #alhaitham drabble #alhaitham fluff

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jo-harrington · 5 months

Text

Genesis (An As Above, So Below Story)

**This can be read in tandem with As Above, So Below as it contains spoilers. The scene with Eddie at the end is a direct lead in to Heaven.**

Summary: In the beginning, there was darkness...

Word Count: 4.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!OC (The Knight)

Warnings/Themes: Angst, Fluff, Meet Cute, Origin Story, Minor Gore, Not Great Parents, Religious Elements, Supernatural Elements, Fate vs Free Will

OC is of European/Italian-American descent on her father's side and her mother's side can be left up to interpretation. She is loosely Roman Catholic. I will not be giving her a name, or any major physical descriptors if I can help it but her cultural identity is integral to the larger story.

Note: Damn, so I was just doing an outline for the final chapter of AASB (we are quite a ways away) and this came to me...almost 5k later here we are. If you are reading the series, you might notice some of this popping up again at some point. Thanks to @deathbecomesthem for another set of eyes and enabling me to write something that made my heart ache.

This series is not for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"'What is life for?' he asks himself. 'What is my life for?'" ― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

March 1983

It was a good day.

It made you nervous by lunch.

Well, nervous wasn't the right word for it.

Guilty.

Rightfully so; Nonna would ask how your day was once you were home and if you had anything to say other than something bad or something guilt-ridden, you'd get an earful. And you didn’t mind it so much coming from her, it’s when Mom started butting in that made things complicated.

You couldn’t stand them fighting anymore.

So you prayed for something bad. Well…just something not good.

One of the nuns being in a nasty mood and giving you a pop quiz, one of the boys from Holy Cross making fun of you when you got on the bus home, a nasty customer during your shift at Food Town, even skinning your knees on the walk home after work.

But no. It was a perfect day. Even old Fortunata on 23rd noticed you walking home and brought out a plate of scaliddi because your birthday had just passed and she knew they were your favorite.

She even asked you if you wanted to come in for espresso and you declined around the hand that pinched your cheek.

It might have been strange to anyone else but to you it was normal. You had a handful of friends at school, sure, but your main entourage consisted of all the little Italian ladies who’d worked at the factory and went to bingo with your Nonna.

Which meant Nonna was talking about you during Bingo again.

You invited her over for coffee and pastries after mass on Sunday instead, so she would let you go, and silently apologized to Nonna that you’d have company instead of getting to watch reruns of Dark Shadows together.

Her secret, shameful indulgence. And yours.

By the time you made it home, it was dark. Streetlights flickered on but you paid them no mind. You'd made this walk a thousand times before safely, and you'd do it again.

Even the shadowy figure sitting on the porch steps didn't make you pause.

"It's been a while," you greeted awkwardly, Mary Janes scuffing the sidewalk as you climbed the steps. You held out the plate to him as you passed. "Scaliddi?"

"I don't eat," he shook his head.

"There's always a first time," you joked.

"Your father is home."

That caused you to freeze.

"Oh?"

"He's hurt."

"Oh."

"You don't seem upset."

"Am I supposed to be?" you shrugged. "He always comes back with cuts and bruises...and then he heals. And then he leaves again. Off to save the world."

"Not this time," Gabriel shook his head. You frowned; that didn't sound right. You shoved your key in the lock, ready to go inside and see just what he meant. You turned to look at him as you shut the door, uncaring of the words he said next. "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes and closed the door on him. Locking the deadbolt although you knew that wouldn't do much if he really wanted to come in.

You let yourself into Nonna's flat and heard distant voices at the back. They stopped as you shut the door; Nonna softly called your name and then shuffled down the hall.

You'd never seen her look so weary in your entire life, and it only got worse the closer she got to you.

Deep lines of worry carved into her face, eyes sorrowful, hands wringing over each other. Hands that had a rosary wound around them.

She immediately reached out and grabbed your backpack and Fortunata's plate and set them down on the plastic-covered French Provincial couch that was the centerpiece of her front room. And then she turned back to you and cupped your face. Her lips pursed and she took a breath as though she had something to say...but she exhaled shakily and shook her head, denying herself the chance.

"You ok Nonnie?" you whispered.

There were tears in her eyes and she forced a smile.

"Of course I'm ok, you're home safe," she told you softly. Her hands shook as she squeezed your cheeks and then took one of yours. She tugged you along down the hall behind her, like she had a million other times growing up. "But we have company. Vieni."

It's tense in the kitchen.

You're slumped in your usual seat, Nonna's seat beside you intermittently empty as she bounces between the table and the stove--stirring and slicing, scooping and serving--and across from you is your father looking...dead. Truly. He looks like he's barely clinging to life, covered in cuts and bruises, one eye so bloodshot you can't see any white, with his right arm in a sling, hand bandaged, missing two fingers.

You're struggling between staring at him and avoiding him altogether.

Beside him, in the chair your mother usually sits in when she's home--you're sure she fled once she saw you had a visitor--sits a stern man in a black cassock. Father Alexander Jinette, one of the Order's contacts within the Clergy. He's calm and charismatic and acts like he knows everything.

He doesn't, you already asked a few curious questions to test his faith and got some bullshit answers in response. But you figured he'd also be testing yours so it was only fair.

Jinette spent the last hour eating homemade bread and telling you how the next few decades of your life will go.

"We'll get you to Rome immediately," he explained. "The Knights have already been called. You'll take your oath and then...let fate take you. You'll probably start where your father left off in Lisbon."

"What about what I want to do?" you asked. "What about school?"

"What about it?" he shrugged distastefully. "What you want doesn't matter; school doesn't matter. You've already learned everything you need to know. Already reading about...Monstrumology and demonology...the Bible? No? You don't need...math. Your studies will be a little more practical from now on. On-the-job training, if you would."

He was the only one in the room that laughed; like he wasn't joking about your life...or your inevitable death.

On and on he went. Explaining how missions work. How often you'd get to come home to rest. How long your father's recovery would take and when he would be back in the fray.

"You, of course, won't see each other," he explained as Nonna handed him a plate. "The temptation to...prioritize one another over innocents...you understand."

"She does," your father answered for you. "She was born for this."

Your eyes darted back to him, feeling a burning sense of...confusion, betrayal...you couldn't pinpoint it exactly. You felt everything and nothing, all at the same time. You were numb.

Nonna slid plates in front of the two of you then sat down with one herself. You snatched a fork off the table and then began to dig into the heap of pasta and chicken when Jinette cleared his throat.

Your eyes slid to him again and he raised a brow in question, then folded his hands in front of him in prayer. Nonna followed suit and your father did the best he could...considering...and you...

"I need a minute," you muttered and pushed yourself to your feet. You darted out of the kitchen, ignoring your father calling after you, and went out to the back yard.

You could hear the distant sounds of the Metra a few blocks away, kids playing further down the alley, and thunderous footsteps down the back stairs following you.

"I just needed air," you defend yourself as your father joins you outside. "I think I'm allow--"

"That was embarrassing," he scolded you immediately. "Don't you realize that?" You round on him and stare incredulously; for a man who looked like he was about to keel over just moments ago, he certainly got his second wind fast when you didn't obey your new master.

"It hasn't even been 5 minutes!" You scoffed. “What if I just needed to smoke. Or had to take a shit?”

“This is not how I raised you—”

“You’re right, because you didn’t raise me.”

You watch the words strike him as hard as if you’d just walked up to him and slapped him.

It felt good.

And all at once, the overwhelming numbness disappeared and you were filled with acute clarity. All the feelings...over a decade of confusion, anger, sorrow, loneliness, and resentment...overcame you.

It was an out of body experience and in hindsight, you should have gone easy on him given his injuries...but when had he ever thought of going easy on you? For as long as you could remember, as soon as he'd made this...legacy...known to you, he'd beaten the devil into you one wicked word, dismissive glance, and denial of "normalcy" at a time.

And now he would have to face its resurgence.

I don't understand why you think you have a right to tell me--expect me--to just nod my head and accept any of this shit. How dare you bring that guy into our home and let him boss me around?

His jaw clenched and he rolled his eyes and scoffed intermittently between your words.

You got to live your life before Papa died. Now you're sending me out there to die before I've even gotten a chance to live. That's what this is...you know that right? It's a death sentence.

He tried to talk over you, tried to say you were being childish, that you didn't know what you were talking about. That this was precisely why you had to go. To grow up.

It'll kill Nonnie if I go. Kill her if she has to stay here alone with mom. They hate each other; don't you know that? Hate each other because of you. Mom hates me...because of you.

Of course it was your mother's perfect timing to pull into the driveway as those words echoed down the block.

Your shoulders heaved as you caught your breath and she stared at you and your father with tired eyes as she slid out of the drivers seat and slammed the door shut behind her.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” she muttered.

“Nonna made dinner,” you explained.

“Of course she did.”

“Tell your daughter,” your father hissed at her, coming up behind you and landing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “That she’s acting childishly.”

“She’s a child. What do you expect?”

"Well," he spun you to face him now, knowing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with her. "It's time for you to grow up. No more tantrums. No time for teenage rebellion. This is it; it's up to you now. The fate of the entirety of our family rests in your hands.

"You need to make a sacrifice, for all of us. In the end...you'll get your reward. We all will."

"Hasn't my entire life been sacrifice?" You bat his hand away from you. "A sacrifice that I never chose. This was never my choice, dad. I shouldn't be...I shouldn't have been born to be a means to an end. To be your free ticket to heaven."

You watch the emotions morph on his face and you swear you feel the ground beneath you shake just the slightest bit, as though he debated letting it split open to swallow you whole. You might have preferred that. Instead he took his anger out the human way.

"Free? You want to talk about free?" He lunged and grabbed your face, forcing you to look at his wounded arm. "You want to talk about sacrifice? Let's see what happens when the darkness takes its pound of flesh from you. Let's see what you do when you're staring down the jaws of a monster that only means to kill you. I'll be laughing when you come to regret your words. When you face your own mortality."

"Some father," you spit at him. "Laughing. Guess when that time comes I'll just die."

It was strange, deciding what pieces of your life were a necessity and what could stay behind.

Everything seemed necessary.

Clothes, books, tapes, the abundance of protective tchotchkes that your father had sent you over the years, the little stuffed bunny that you and Nonna had won playing the quarter game at the carnival a few years ago.

Your mother had sent you in to pack.

She'd gotten between you and your father, snapping about "what the neighbors would think." She made sure to emphasize that there would be no dinner until you were ready to go.

Then she slapped the keys to the car in your hand and sent you inside. Alone. So she and your father could talk.

"Probably asking if she could leave now," you sniffed. "No obligation to stay anymore."

But Nonna needed help. As much as they were always at each others throats, you knew they couldn't do it alone. Either of them.

"It's not like you're never coming back," you rationalized. "Mom can just...take one for the team...again...until you're back."

But what if...what if you never made it back?

Your father had been doing this for 16 years and this was the first time you'd seen with injuries like this. He could heal himself, for God's sake. If Jinette and the Order wanted to send you to face...whatever had caused his injuries...with no experience outside of a book and some fucking around in the garage with a knife and a crucifix...

You could play the tough, angry, annoyed act all you wanted but...you were afraid. This shouldn't have been your fight.

It was entirely unfair.

But this was your punishment. To fit whatever you needed for the foreseeable future into a duffel bag so you could go and...be a hero?

"Be a pawn," you collapsed on your bed and hugged a pillow to your chest. "Be a sword."

You didn't want to. You didn't want to. Didn't WANT TO. DIDN'T WANT TO. YOU DIDN'T WANT--

"So what do I want then?" You rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

Who were you? What would your life look like if this wasn't waiting for you?

No one had ever given you the chance to find that out.

No career aptitude tests, no sessions with a guidance counselor, no college applications. You'd floated the idea of taking classes at the community college by your dad last time he'd been in town and he said he'd think about it; did he know that this was waiting just months in the future?

You were doubtful he even knew you had a job at the grocery store or a drivers license. Your mother had caved after months of you begging both times. Nonna just turned a blind eye; whatever made you happy, after all.

Mom...

You glanced over at the keys on your nightstand. You may have had a bit of a temper tantrum and just stormed into your room when you came inside, so the keys had...come with you.

The car was just in the driveway. Papa's dirt brown Mercury Marquis that he'd gotten because he would rather drive than take trains or planes for missions close to home. After he died...well, Nonna certainly didn't drive and your parents had their own cars, so it just sat...rotting in the garage unless your mother wanted a joyride that was a little more rough and tumble than her Sierra could handle.

You'd heard her talking on the phone once, about street racing on Lower Wacker. And how the Marquis could actually go pretty fast when it wanted to.

You wondered what that was like. Your experience driving had only been within the stop-and-go streets of your neighborhood. You'd never even driven on the highway before.

You'd never...lived before.

No concerts, no parties, no field trips, no dates, no first kiss. What did it feel like to go to Disneyland? Or...or see the Statue of Liberty? Or even a drive in movie? You'd never even been outside of the greater Chicago area before. Not even a drive up to Wisconsin for the Renaissance Fair.

You acted before you had the chance to rationalize it, before you had the chance to come up with a plan. Suddenly the things that were a necessity were clear as day and you threw them one after another into your duffel bag.

Clothes and this book but not that one and that shoe box full of cassettes at the bottom of your closet. Your wallet and the little rubber-banded wad of cash in your underwear drawer that you saved from your paychecks instead of putting it in the bank. And, after everything else, the little black cord from Nonna's old mourning robes that now hung from the headboard of your bed.

So she would always be with you.

You snatched the keys from your nightstand and rushed over to the window. You opened it as silently as you could and threw the bag out, then followed it. The slight drop wasn't bad; you maybe pulled a muscle on landing. It wasn't like the movies made it seem.

But that also might have just been what you got for skipping gym one too many times.

You were sure you'd see the light on the back porch turn on when you stuck the key in the ignition and the Marquis ROARED to life.

Or when you forgot to open the gate before you backed out of the driveway and it CLANGED as the bumper smashed into it.

But as soon as your foot hit the gas, it didn't matter.

You looked in the rearview mirror once as you made it to the end of the alley. No one was running after you, no lights turning on spontaneously. No shouting.

Only a familar-shaped shadowy figure that stood unassumingly in front of the still-swinging gate.

March 1984

You were tired.

It was glorious.

It was tedious.

A year on the run, a year of everything you never thought you’d be able to have. And you’d taken it for yourself, greedily. Contentedly.

Driving and dancing and camping and talking and becoming. Becoming the you that you’d otherwise never get to be if you had followed the path fate had set for you.

Any adventure that you could only have imagined a year ago…suddenly became your reality. You didn’t need permission to be happy, if that’s what you wanted.

Just because you didn’t need permission though, didn’t mean you just got to have happiness.

Any time you decided you could settle, take a break from constantly pressing down on the gas pedal of life, someone would pop up. Gabriel, mostly. Your father, once. And the jobs you’d just taken or the apartments you’d just paid for would get left in the dust so you could avoid their confrontation.

Which is why you were in Indiana. You’d honestly tried to avoid the tri-state area once you left Chicago. It was too close to home, too easy to find. Too easy to be tempted to go back. But you needed to get through Indiana to get to your next destination.

Wherever that might be.

It was a torrential downpour when you exited the highway and soared down dark, suburban streets to your next pit stop. A roadside motel off Route 69 according to your probably-outdated road map. Maybe there’d be a diner or something nearby. Otherwise you could sleep in the car and find breakfast come morning; wouldn’t be the first time.

It was getting tiresome.

You were tired of being anybody; you wanted to be somebody again.

You thought that you’d find out who you were taking on this adventure but in truth…you already knew.

You had been your father’s safety net. Nonna’s best friend, her treasure. Your mother’s burden. You were so incredibly resilient and strong. A whisper with the capability to become a scream. Misunderstood by the simple lack of an attempt to understand. You were brave and adventurous. Crafty and cunning.

Not beautiful but…purposeful.

You had a purpose here on earth and you knew deep down it wasn’t what fate expected of you. What everyone expected of you. You knew because of the way your soul sung when you first backed out of your driveway.

But you were alone. Alone and tired, which brought desperation.

It was a dark cloud that filled you. Consumed your being. You wondered, more than once, if that cloud had been there all along. Desperation led you to running away in the first place and had kept you going ever since.

Only now the dark cloud of desperation made you want to go home to find some light again.

And you knew you couldn’t do that.

The flickering motel sign was a beacon of hope in the dark, and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

The manager, an old man rivaling Methuselah, didn't cease his newspaper reading as you ran into the office from the rain to ask for a room. You questioned whether he had heard you when he blindly reached behind him for a key.

"Number 4," he announced and then held his hand out for his payment. You fumbled with your wallet for a second as he explained the check-out time, the free coffee at 6am, and that the vending machine and coin washer were both unapologetically broken.

"Do you need a wake up call?" he said as he stuffed your cash in the register.

"No."

"Hmm, good," he dismissed you with a wave of his hand. An unspoken fuck off then.

You were about to turn and head to your room when you paused and asked, "can I have the want ads?"

He sighed heavily but peeled the pages apart and handed you the requested pages blindly.

"Don't stay in Hawkins too long," he said sagely. "Or you're liable to get stuck here." Then he waved you off once again.

You stepped back out into the rain and fumbled with the room key and the newspaper, only for a flash of lightning to bring your attention to a structure across the street.

A dirt parking lot with all of 5 cars in it and a one story house-turned-bar with a few faint neon signs in the windows.

Better than nothing.

You shoved your key and wallet back in your pocket and then used the newspaper page as a cover as you darted across the street.

The Hideout was nothing to write home about. A handful of mismatched tables and chairs with a few sleepy drunks sipping on beers and throwing back handfuls of peanuts from bowls on the tables. The bar itself was small and sticky, and the bartender was too.

"Can you make a cherry coke?" you asked. He sniffed judgmentally but nevertheless dug out a dusty bottle of grenadine from behind the bar. He grunted something about no cherries, and you didn't know if you were just that thirsty or grateful for a place to sit that wasn't your car, but it was still the best cherry coke you'd ever had.

Thank God for your ability to heal; it was probably going to shut your body down otherwise.

There's a commotion and in the dark corner of what probably used to be the living room, a group of boys start making some noise. There's a "stage" made up of two-by-fours that creaks as they get a drum kit set up and they'd unplugged a Coors neon sign to get power to their amps.

There was no countdown; they just got to playing.

A loud and unrelenting sound that even had you bobbing your head a little. They weren't great but it wasn't the beloved mess of tapes you'd been cycling through for the past year; it was new and it made you feel something. The four of them shot smiles at each other between bouts of concentration signified by closed eyes and tongues caught between teeth.

Your eyes met with one of them; the lead singer...or...guitar player? Or so you thought; hard to tell since they'd eliminated one of their only sources of light. Long hair and long noodley limbs, and ripped jeans and too much...just too much.

But he was cute and he noticed you.

It made your chest hurt a little.

That was enough to get you to turn around and try to ignore him.

You'd met your share of cute road boys who kissed too hard and fumbled too much and didn't ask for a phone number you couldn't give them anyway. You didn't need a wink and small talk and all of that. You needed...

...you needed a place to stay.

You turned around on the shaky stool and tested your luck by asking the bartender for a pen. He passed one over along with another cherry coke and you got to searching the damp classifieds to the cacophonous background.

You let one sigh after another as you read each ad in depth and found each one not to be good enough. A house for sale? No. A babysitting job for triplets? No. You hated little kids. There was an apartment over the deli that might be promising. And a job stocking shelves at the grocery store. You had plenty of experience with that.

You did another cursory search of the paper before looking back to the bartender.

"Hey," you asked tentatively. "What's this town again?"

"Hawkins," came a voice behind you. "You're in Hawkins."

You spun on the seat to face the source.

Noodle boy.

He fidgeted where he stood, fingers flitting at his sides nervously. When he was up on the "stage" he had the unwarranted confidence of a rockstar but here he was...

"Do you like cheese fries?" he blurted out, then wrenched his eyes shut.

You let out a blasting honk of a laugh, and then clapped your hands over your mouth to snicker at him.

He was adorable.

You made to apologize for your laughter, but you were hit with...feelings. His feelings. And yours.

Weariness and hope and adrenaline and attraction and amusement and embarrassment and comfort and discomfort and safety and hunger...

And. And. And.

"S-sorry," you sobered yourself and tried to ignore the feelings. "I didn't mean to laugh, that was just..."

"Out of left field?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah I kind of just blurt out the first thing to come to mind sometimes. Usually bullshit."

It was endless.

The mix of feelings danced with each other in the space between you.

It felt warm, and after a jaunt in the rain...the warmth felt good.

"Bullshit is good sometimes," you told him with a smile.

"Great, because I'm full of it." You laughed again and so did he. "I'm Eddie."

The feelings were light.

Eddie was light.

And in that moment, you let him shine into the dark parts of you.

“I told you. You don't love someone because of their looks or their clothes or their car. You love them because they sing a song only your heart can understand.” ― L.J. Smith

#eddie munson x reader #aasb #as above so below #Eddie munson x oc #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson fic

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redahlia-writes · 1 year

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dark sonnet. (part one) | aemond targaryen

part 2

Abstract: “You -” she paused, her head slightly tilted as they took some more steps, a dance that ended by a tree, Aemond’s shoulder bumping the trunk as his gaze remained on her, unwavering. “I’ll admit I’ve never quite figured you out, prince Aemond.”

He faltered - something about the way she said his name, not as if she feared him, but as if she wasn’t exactly sure she should be saying it out loud the way she had with Helaena’s. And for a moment, she didn’t care.

Words: 15K

Content: f!reader (can be read as oc, no use of y/n / her hair is dyed red, no mentions of natural hair colour); canon typical everything - allusions to rape and an abusive family, a whole lot of yearning, slow-burn (but not really), tension, hands, a lot of imagery and flowery language, scars, characters are aged up, smut (like 3k of it), canon? we don’t know her

A/N: i don’t know what possessed me to make this this long - and i just covered half the plot originally planned. part 2 will be posted as soon as possible, when life allows it (please be patient); loosely based on neil gaiman’s poem dark sonnet. translation for high valyrian will be at the end

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

It must’ve been the wind unseen bringing him into the corridors that night.

He’d usually stick to the secret passages he knew like the back of his hand when the hour was late - at times, even during the day, favouring the darkness offered by the hidden corridors to the open one bustling with people. Yet for some reason, that very night, he simply didn’t.

So Aemond found himself walking past his brother’s room just as the heavy door closed, and even in half-darkness a cascade of dark hair flashed his vision. A sigh, a frustrated groan and loud steps hurried along the corridor - just a few steps, then no more.

He moved forward, keeping to the shadows, past the room and the guard who hadn’t as much spared her a second glance, and turned in that same corridor - he was no stranger to his brother’s antics, and knew they usually ended in tears.

Perhaps he was just curious. Perhaps there was more, something inexplicable bringing him over.

The woman had her back against the wall, dishevelled looking with her hair unbraided, her dress slightly askew, eyes closed as she lifted one shaky hand to her forehead - the light caught a flash of skin, a red ring marking her wrist. Slowly, with another heavy sigh, she sunk to the ground, the skirt pooling around her. He stepped closer, and noticed her hair was red - a red so dark it resembled that of old blood, framing her flushed face as she shielded her eyes.

“Are you alright?” he wasn’t sure what had compelled him to speak - he’d seen plenty of young women, maids and ladies alike, in a much worse state than that, and though he’d tried to approach them, they’d simply quivered back from him, too. He couldn’t blame them.

But not her. Perhaps it was exactly the resilience, or the frustration coming off of her in waves - something akin to anger - that had moved him forward.

“The usual,” she did not seem startled by him, hadn’t even flinched at the sound of his voice breaching the quiet. Still, her eyes were covered, and she spoke with such casualty - “I’m fine - you know how it is.”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied, quietly, somewhat amused. He saw the frown form underneath the shield of her hand before she lowered it to her lap, head tipped back to look at him. Eyes widening, she hastily pulled at the lowered shoulder of her dress - it was ripped, Aemond noticed, and would not stay up unless she held it.

“Prince Aemond,” she breathed out in disbelief, glancing from him to the ground, attempting to figure out how to get up and then looking back up at him. “My apologies, I thought you were someone else.”

“Evidently,” he couldn’t help his lips quipping in a half grin watching her. Ever so slowly, he stepped closer and offered her his hand in help. She hesitated, eyes dancing from his flexed fingers to his face, still holding her dress up to cover herself.

He wondered who she’d expected him to be - a guard, perhaps that same guard who’d seemed so disinterested in her, or someone from the staff, somebody she knew, and who knew her. Recognition flickered across Aemond’s eye - the young woman who now rested her hand in his, letting him hoist her up, was Helaena’s companion.

He let go of her right away, though his gaze fell to the red mark again, palm tingling in the wake of her soft, cold fingers.

“Are you?” he asked, and she stilled in her attempt to adjust her dress once more, blinking rapidly her confusion up towards him. “I’m sorry, my prince, I’m not sure -” she tilted her head, a little frown knitting her brow. “Am I what?”

“Fine,” he let his gaze roam down her ruined dress. He noticed it matched the one his sister had been wearing at dinner - had she been there, too? He would’ve noticed. He lingered on her hair, a halo of rust. “Are you alright?” seemingly taken aback, she blinked again, still looking at him. “I - of course. Thank you,” the last words had an almost dubious intonation, and she cleared her throat. “It’s nothing.”

“Ah, but there is something,” her gaze flickered to the end of the corridor, over Aemond’s shoulder and towards his brother’s room, lips pressed shut. “Does this something look a little bit like me, perhaps, or Helaena? Same hair, same eyes, though a little bit of a -”

“He hasn’t touched me,” she blurted out, and Aemond’s eyebrows arched slowly. There was unkempt fury in her gaze, holding his for a split second before turning her head, exposing the column of her neck. He could almost see her heart, jumping under her skin. “He doesn’t touch me. Not for lack of trying,” the last sentence was just a whisper, making his lips quip in a grin.

“Oh, I know,” she tensed at his words, forcing herself to keep her gaze away, arms wrapped tightly about her middle. “He bitches and moans about the one he doesn’t get, even got a couple of scratches out of trying,” her expression fell, eyes widening as her lips parted - Aemond leaned in, not too close for discomfort but enough that, when he lowered his voice, the echo did not respond. “Good job.”

“My prince -” she spoke in a gasp, head whipping around to look at him. It seemed she hadn’t noticed him get as close, and the vicinity had her step back - in doing so, the ripped sleeve she’d somehow tucked back into place fell down again, uncovering her shoulder, part of the front rolling onto itself - there were goosebumps over the skin of her chest.

“Not to worry,” he unknotted his cloak and removed it from his shoulders. He moved carefully, offering it to her - again she hesitated, but eventually took it from his grasp. She draped it across her shoulders, making quick work of the knot at the base of her throat and hiding the ruined dress. “He did not wish for it to be known - what kind of brother would I be if I went around revealing his secrets?”

It had been a while since anyone had looked at him so openly, with such curiosity and even a little bit of gratitude - perhaps it was the aid of darkness, or the tiredness in her bones, but the woman didn’t shy away again, returning the prince’s gaze firmly.

“Thank you, my prince,” she said at last, tightening the cloak around her. “For this, too,” she added, letting the fabric move about her, long enough it brushed the ground, though Aemond found he didn’t really care about it. “The hour’s late - I better go.”

“Of course, my lady,” she parted her lips as if to speak again, then cleared her throat and closed her mouth once more as she shook her head lightly, almost as if pushing away a thought. Aemond’s brows knit, a curious glint in his eye, yet she was already curtsying and stepping away. “Good night!”

He remained there as she walked away without another word, her steps soft along the corridor and his cloak trailing behind her like a shadow - he stood watching until she was too far away and he could only hear her, a door opening (Helaena’s door, he knew - she’d be waiting for the princess to come back from Aegon’s room) and closing.

In the morning, his cloak was back in his room, a vague scent of roses clinging to it.

No one ever went to that side of the gardens - it was Aemond’s corner, and besides the gardeners he’d shared it only with Helaena every now and then. His sister had liked the flowers and insects crawling around the grass, and she seemed to have returned to that same spot on her own accord.

From the other side of the yard, he watched the princess beam at her red-haired friend - in sunlight, the red was deeper, liquid fire braided and pinned to her head to uncover her face. Aemond had found himself catching glimpses of those flames across halls and rooms whenever his sister was about, following it with his gaze until he found her, always a step behind, always ready to catch Helaena’s hand when she asked for it and smile at her when she turned her head to speak. He’d observed lords and ladies alike all his life, knew the pretend smiles, the polite ones, and the ones she reserved for his sister - genuinely interested, attentive, not merely a chore or a job she had to do.

Helaena, her eyes still bright, placed a crown of flowers atop the young woman’s head - her lips moved, a thank you too distant for him to hear. She then offered the princess her hand - she didn’t touch her first, waited for Helaena to be the one to decide, and when she took her friend’s hand in both hers, she gave it a squeeze and stood up.

“Shall I come with you, princess?” Thethe wind carried her voice over, much softer when she spoke to the princess than he’d heard it the other night. Helaena shook her head, letting go of her hand as she stepped back - she did not insist, her posture deflating a little as she sighed and watched her walk away, a light skip in her step.

She watched until Helaena was out of sight and then, closing her eyes, fell back against the grass. Her dress spread out around her, a splash of colour over the green, and her hands were joined above her stomach.

Ever so slowly, Aemond approached - once again unsure what compelled him to. He watched carefully her face bathed in sunlight, the way it coloured her skin, eyelids trembling and eyelashes kissing the top of her cheeks. One more step, and Aemond’s shadow fell on her face - she relaxed for a moment, then opened her eyes.

Her gaze lingered on his boots for a moment, then quickly made its way up until it reached his face, his head tilted just slightly, and she sat up with her eyes widened.

“My prince,” her voice was low and breathy, her eyes darting to her skirt and then back up at him as her lips parted. “The princess has just gone inside.”

“I did not mean to startle you, my apologies,” again he offered her his hand, and again she hesitated - this time for a moment only, then placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up. “I wasn’t looking for Helaena, merely some quiet,” he added then, not stepping back as he’d done that night.

Instead, he reached up with his other hand, fixing the flower crown sitting askew on her forehead. Her lips parted again, gaze lifting to his hand as it moved back from her face, and then cleared her throat, bowing her head.

“I shall leave you to it, then,” she seemed to realise just then her hand still rested in his, and almost hastily pulled it back as she curtsied, gaze flicking up for a split second. “Your -”

“Walk with me,” he offered instead, and she looked up fully, surprised, perhaps a little confused. Why, the question written in her eyes, and Aemond wasn’t really sure he could give her an answer. “Quiet doesn’t mean complete solitude, does it?”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” she nodded, turning towards the spot where Helaena’s guard was before - she didn’t seem unnerved by his absence, and when she faced Aemond again, her expression was more relaxed. Tranquil. “Until Helaena calls for me,” she agreed - a flicker of nervousness at her slipping the name of the princess, which Aemond pretended to ignore as she fell into steps beside him.

“I’ve rarely seen my sister as happy as when you’re at her side,” she walked on the side of his good eye, and he saw her turn her head to look up at him, almost surprised. It was a confession all of its own - admitting he’d been looking at them, that he’d noticed them both. “How’d you come to be her lady in waiting?”

“Not a lady, my prince,” when she spoke, she smoothed one hand down the front of her dress - he could see the tip of her fingers linger on the green embroidery, most likely his mother’s thinking. “Merely a handmaiden - a lucky one. Your sister liked me, asked I stood by her, thus I was schooled and dressed accordingly.”

“So you live in her shadows,” a scoff left her, and she was quick to mask it with a cough. “I’d be working in the kitchens still, had it not been for her,” she responded, and despite her words Aemond heard the tone of the lady she was taught to be. “It might be that, but these shadows are comfortable. And the princess treats me as a friend - I owe her a great deal.”

“You adore Helaena,” a surprised, gentle smile caught on the young woman’s lips, sincerity in her gaze as she nodded - still, Aemond continued. “So much so you’re willing to stay with her, even if it means putting up with Aegon.”

Her expression fell, that tender smile reserved for his sister vanishing in the blink of an eye, and for the first time since he’d approached her, she looked away - the same way court ladies did when they saw him, his eyepatch. Yet it hadn’t been him causing that reaction, but the mere mention of his brother.

“Despite the circumstances of our first meeting, I wouldn’t speak ill of your brother, my prince,” her words were clipped, a ghost of the anger seething in her that very night.

“My brother is a cunt,” Aemond scoffed, and at that her eyes returned to him - he expected her to look offended by the brazenness of his words, instead she just looked… surprised. Curious, even.

“Your brother is the son of a king,” she retorted, words measured. Her lips remained parted, an inhale as if preparing to continue, her steps faltering - but then she shook her head as she’d done that night when he’d called her my lady, as if shooing a thought.

“Fear not offending me, my lady,” again appeared that surprise in her eyes at the title he knew to be wrong. He hoped she felt the sincerity in it, knew he would not be mocking her. He leaned in a little, hands locked behind his back as he lowered his voice. “I can take it - and, as I’ve mentioned, I’m good at keeping secrets.”

Still, she hesitated, and Aemond could not fault her. His gaze fell to her hands as silence went on, watching that motion he’d seen in his mother countless times - pinching her fingers, picking and pulling and scratching at the skin around the nail until it drew blood. When it did, she lowered her gaze for a moment, and then tucked her fingers into her palms, hiding them from sight.

“You princes and lords have a way about you,” she spoke plainly, but did not meet his eye this time. Careful. Controlled. “A hubris - knowing you can get whatever it is you wish for.”

“I believe in Aegon’s case, it was time someone showed him that’s not the case,” Aemond said, then turned around to face her, walking backwards as he opened his arms, an almost theatrical motion that had her slow her steps - she didn’t look away, didn’t flinch, just watched him with curiosity. “But what do I know? I’m just a prince myself, am I not?”

“You -” she paused, her head slightly tilted as they took some more steps, a dance that ended by a tree, Aemond’s shoulder bumping the trunk as his gaze remained on her, unwavering. “I’ll admit I’ve never quite figured you out, prince Aemond.”

“Does my good sister not speak about me?” he mused, crossing his arms and leaning back. “She does - highly, too,” she conceded, and her hand ran down the front of her bodice again, tracing the edges of the embroidery, over and over. “But to know one person through another’s words and thoughts doesn’t mean to actually know them.”

“This way I may yet have a vantage in winning you over, then,” her hand stilled, a little hiccup shaking her shoulders at his words. “I do wonder why we’ve never spoken before,” he hummed then, his head tilted as she watched the expression shift yet again on her face.

Everything he needed to know was in her eyes, and still she felt so distant. An open book in a language he did not yet master.

“Because your duty does not include speaking with the likes of me,” she said, letting her hands fall in front of her, thumbing the edge of the bodice where it met the skirt. “And mine is to not be seen by anyone but the princess.”

“Yet I do see you,” another shudder ran across her shoulders as her breath hitched at his words. “You seem to be everywhere - wherever I look, there you are,” he pushed himself off of the tree, half a step in her direction. “You’re hardly unnoticeable, my lady.”

“Not a lady,” she breathed out, her lips parting with a quiet gasp. Before she could say more, the clatter of the armour of a guard joining them interrupted her, calling her name, too - her name only.

“The princess Helaena has asked for you,” the guard said - then, suddenly noticing Aemond, blanched, bowing a little bit too deep, a little bit too fast. “Your Highness.”

“Of course,” she said, clearing her throat - she’d begun to pick at her nails again, and twisted her torso from Aemond to the guard whose gaze was fixed onto the ground. The prince sneered, but the grimace fell when he met her eyes one last time before bowing her head. “Apologies, my prince. I have to go.”

“Naturally,” he nodded, mirroring her movement - head bowed, gaze lifted to watch the nth shift of her expression. “I will see you at supper.”

She moved quickly, turning around and heading towards the entrance - for the second time Aemond watched her walk away, head held high and her dress dancing around her at her rapid steps, with the guard following shortly at her heels. Almost royalty herself.

It was no secret that the young prince didn’t enjoy public gatherings - balls and celebrations and festivities, at times even meals with his family felt tedious, let alone when half the kingdom was present. Too many people, too many conversations, too many glances at the eyepatch adorning his face. It bothered him to no end, knowing it was his duty to uphold a certain image, be polite and pleasant - he’d do it, for his mother, to some extent for his father, too, but those nights could not end soon enough.

There were positive aspects to it - his brother looked as miserable as he felt, for example. And, standing in Helaena’s shadow, always within arm reach, was her. Aemond knew everyone looked at her at least once - he’d seen them, lords and ladies alike, curious and perplexed. He never let her or his sister out of his sight as the night went on.

She held her head high, but her gaze low, soothed and smiled at Helaena whenever the princess turned to her, spoke to no one but her - when a lord tried to get her attention, it was Helaena who responded. Despite everything, theirs was a balanced relationship - protector and protected alternatively of the other.

Aemond had learned the tell-tales of his sister’s moods - she was always first to retire to her chambers, at times accompanied by their mother, most of the time by her instead. From the other side of the room, he saw her shake her head, lean into her friend’s embrace.

It was perhaps low of him to take advantage of the situation, but as he approached them, he saw her eyes flicker towards him - she hadn’t spared any lord or lady a second glance, but for a moment held his gaze before bowing her head.

“Your brother, princess,” she hummed softly, and Helaena turned around, her eyes softening when she saw it was him.

“Sister,” a tired smile took over the princess’ lips. “Would you care for a dance?” “Oh,” she sounded surprised, and it took everything Aemond had to not let his gaze wander past her shoulder. “Well, I -”

“The princess wished to return to her chambers, my prince,” she said in her stead, almost defensively. She then turned to look at Helaena, searched for confirmation or a change of heart, her gaze soft. Do you? only her lips moved, with no sound.

“I’m sorry, Aemond,” Helaena nodded a little, then smiled again - small, polite, tender. He bowed his head, lowered his gaze as the two women’s arms interlocked.

“Then perhaps,” he stopped them before they could walk away, and the princess looked at him curiously, almost surprised as he continued, “I may ask your friend to dance with me in your stead?”

Her eyes widened as Aemond stopped pretending he wasn’t looking at her, lips pressed in a thin line before letting her gaze dart around the wide, crowded room. He could almost see her thoughts racing, and when he looked down she’d already started picking at her nails, and was quick to hide it.

“These people are tedious,” he continued, an admission under his breath that had Helaena giggle - a lie, too, and they both knew it. “I merely wished for a familiar face.”

“Princess?” she did not address him directly, though for a moment longer her eyes remained on him. There was a lost look in the princess’ eyes, distant as she sometimes got. “Helaena?” she called again, softer, careful not to touch her anywhere else but where their arms were still connected.

“I’ll go look for mother,” she responded after a fraction of a second, smiling again as the other woman’s shoulders sagged in relief. She squeezed her wrist, then turned to Aemond and tilted her head just a little, speaking again. “Mind the fall.”

She left them there, a little stunned by her words, a little lost by her absence - she’d never been anywhere else but at her side during such gatherings, and it had been a while since Aemond had been left pondering over something she said.

Still, he lifted his gaze and met hers. Smiled. For the third time now, he offered her his hand.

“My lady?” for the third time now, she hesitated. “Still not a lady,” with one last glance around the room, her hand fell into his. Her fingertips were as cold as the first night, and he brought her closer as he moved towards the dancing area.

She stood a step behind as he temporarily turned his back on her, moving her hand from one of his to the other behind him, a gentle, delicate touch caressing the tips of her fingers as he did so - almost a dance before the dance, palms and fingertips and a heartbeat trapped within the wrists. He then brought her close and turned to face her again.

“You’re pretty adamant about it, are you not?” he wondered, a grin in his words. He expected it - she did not lower her gaze when she met his.

“Merely saying what has been reminded to me for years, my prince,” she retorted, their arms lifting at the same time, palm against palm as he guided her other to his shoulder, knuckles brushing her fingertips and then reached for her green-clad side. “That this is not my place.”

“Whoever said that hasn’t looked at you enough,” her gaze moved up to where their hands were joined mid-air, his slender fingers wrapping around her as music started again. “You fit right in,” he bowed his head, a little too close so he could whisper and be heard by her only, ��my lady.”

He felt the shift in her ribs as she inhaled sharply and they started moving. Aemond had only ever danced with his sister, or his mother when he was younger - unless forced, he asked no lady to dance with him, and no lady had ever approached him to do so, not after the incident. But the years of training had made him graceful, elegant even, and he believed the partner picked played a role in the effortlessness he felt in his movements, if only a little out of the rhythm.

“I want to ask you a question, but first -” though the room moved as one, he only saw her twirl, skirt singing with the movement and her hand quickly finding his shoulder again as she met her gaze once more. “Let’s make a deal.”

“A deal,” she echoed, her head slightly tilted, that curious look she’d seen her get from time to time. She was an observer, like him. “Complete and utter honesty from this moment on - nothing hidden between us,” her eyebrows arched, clearly taken by surprise by his words and following grin.

“And why’s that, my prince?” his hand curled against her side, gently pushing to the side, under his arm, behind his back, shoulders brushing together. “I believed you enjoyed your secrecy.”

“I do,” he confirmed, the back of their hands touching as they stood side by side, then moved in a slow circle looking at each other. “Yet I’d like to know all there is to you,” a quick turn to face each other again, arms down against their sides - his hands twitched to reach for her. “It shall go both ways, of course.”

“Of course,” she tipped her chin up a little as she stepped towards him, hands joining again. “What was your question, my prince?”

“What are you thinking about?” he wondered, his head bowed so close it might’ve been unbecoming if not for the music playing, his voice so low only she could hear it. “Right now - what’s going on inside your head?”

If his curiosity surprised her, she did not show it, nibbling at her lip for a moment.

“I am waiting for the whispers,” she said then, an admission. “For them all to notice who you’re dancing with and wondering how I got here, with you - they’ll ask you about it, after this,” she was so sure of it, it brought a frown to Aemond’s brow.

And then she smiled - a curious smile, one he’d never seen when she was with Helaena, or when they’d spoken the other times, casual conversations often cut too short when duty called, lingering in doorways and at a table over the course of several months. He’d gathered bits and pieces of her like that, and still he couldn’t put them all together, couldn’t seem to truly figure her out, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

“What else?” he wondered, eye falling to the grin on her lips she fought so hard to hide. She hesitated - not out of shyness this time, but with a shimmer of amusement in her eyes.

“You’re the one supposed to lead, my prince,” she whispered, so low he almost didn’t hear her. Surprise flashed across his face, and she was quick to turn her head, tucking her chin against her shoulder as his lips parted.

“I am,” he retorted, confusion lacing his voice. “Am I not?”

Her laughter caught him by surprise again, a little too loud, joyous as he’d never heard her - he thought it’d be worthy. The perhaps humiliation, the knowing he hadn’t had control for however long those dances had lasted - it’d be worthy to hear the sound of her laughter all over again, unabashed and quickly smothered by the back of her hand as she stepped away from him, out of sight and into the shadows again.

He followed her into it, away from glances and gaze, her shoulders shaking with silenced laughter - when her eyes moved up to him, almost apologetic, he felt himself smile, too, and then reached for her arm. His touch was always so gentle, she thought fleetingly, even as he pulled her along, away and far from the crowd, the guests, the looks, out of the doors and into a secondary corridor she couldn’t remember ever seeing before.

“Apologies, my prince,” she was slightly out of breath, and when her hand interlocked with his, Aemond pulled her closer, deeper and deeper through the passages now hidden of the castle. “It is not you I am laughing at, it’s just - the whole situation - I hadn’t danced in so long -”

“Fret not, litse mēre,” it slipped, lost in the moment as he stopped at the end of a corridor - there was nowhere else to go but back, and she lost her balance a little when she halted in front of him, face still alight with laughter, eyes shimmering underneath the feeble light of the torch above their heads. “I was merely getting away from the questions - I didn’t feel like justifying my choice of dancing partner.”

“Still,” she cleared her throat as a flush crept up her neck, rolling her shoulders back to regain some composure - her hand was still in his, her thumb absent-mindedly drawing circles across his knuckles. He’d seen her do that same gesture with Helaena, on herself, and it brought him an odd sense of comfort as he lowered his gaze to it. “I shouldn’t have laughed like that - it wasn’t very ladylike of me.”

“Hm,” he let his gaze move up the curve of her arm, a lock of hair fallen out of her up-do - a little more elaborate than her usual braids, but still simple. Elegant. The red was bright against the green of her dress, and Aemond felt a surge of gratitude for the colours chosen by his mother. “Good thing you’re not a lady then, is it not?” he mused, and when he glanced up at her face again, she beamed. “May I show you something?”

“I -” she blinked her eyes quickly, the excitement wearing off a little, smile faltering as she turned to look at the corridor behind them. She kept her head turned long enough Aemond felt himself inhale, fear, the hold on her hand loosening as he let his gaze wander down the column of her throat, away from her face - he did not see the shimmer returning in her eyes when she squeezed his hand, once. “Of course,” she said soft-voiced, yet with resolve.

She watched him move quickly, turn to the wall at their side and reach with his free hand for the torch hanging there - there was a click when he dismounted it from its place, a whirring sound that had her jump back, almost bringing her with him. Her eyes widened as the wall moved like a door, revealing a dark passage that brought them warm air. She gasped, unable to move her gaze from the deep darkness though her head turned in his direction.

“It is safe, I can assure you,” he spoke under his breath, and his voice was carried down the passage, a distant echo that had her draw closer to him, still mesmerised. She said nothing in return, just nodded and, after a moment longer, he guided them both forward - once she stepped away from the wall, it closed behind her and she flinched, tightening her grip on Aemond’s hand.

The silence was broken only by their steps, her quickening breaths as they walked, and walked, and walked - he could feel the heat radiating off of her body as she moved closer to him, so close he could almost hear her heart, running wildly in her chest. Not fear, but excitement, the unknown clad in darkness in front of her.

He should’ve asked how much trust she could put into him, but the more they walked, the less doubt crept down his neck like a shiver. Instead, there was only anticipation, and a slight haze as the high from the dance and her closeness wore off. He felt like he could get used to it - the weight of her hand into his, her body pressed tightly against his own.

She jolted when a low rumble came from in front of them, breath hitching - and then she stepped forward, almost in front of him, her neck craned to search for the source of the noise. Unafraid.

“Rytsas, uēpa riña,” Aemond called and, with another step, Vhagar’s face came into view. At the corner of his eye, he saw the woman’s eyes widen in awe, tilting her head back to take in as much as the dragon’s form as she could - the back of her was still hidden in darkness, and he saw her squint lightly as if to get a better look.

“She’s beautiful,” with a breathy whisper, she squeezed Aemond’s hand and then let go of him, bringing both hands to her chest, as if to hold her heart under her skin. She rocked forward, as if to take a step, but moved back instead, her brow knitting. “Helaena told me you speak to them in High Valyrian - was that it?”

“Yes,” he said, and forced himself to look back at the beast. “Vhagar, sagon sȳz, emi iā zentys,” a low rumble rolled down the creature’s throat, and Aemond stepped closer to both her and Vhagar. “Do you want to get closer?”

“Can I?” she asked right away, a strain of hopefulness in her voice - she still hadn’t turned to look at him, too enthralled with the dragon’s figure. “What did you tell her?”

“Hello, old girl,” Aemond translated, moving one arm behind her back and guiding her forward with slow steps - her shoulders shifted under his touch, deep breaths as they got closer and closer. “I told her to be good - we have a guest,” a smile caught on her mouth, lips quivering when they stopped close enough to her neck he could feel Vhagar’s heat as well.

Her shoulder bumped against his chest, head tilted back to see where her body ended, scales shimmering in the light emanating from the torch. When Aemond lowered his gaze towards her, he saw her pick at her thumb, her only sign of worry in being so close to the beast.

“Give me your hand,” he said, his voice low, bowing his head towards her shoulder - he could smell the scent clinging to her hair, that perfume of roses that had remained on his cloak.

She lifted her arm slowly, licking her lips as she turned her head this side, then the other, and Aemond’s hand closed over hers, guiding her forward. She sighed when her palm connected with Vhagar’s skin, the heat stinging but not unbearable, and her eyes fell shut as the prince ran their joined hands across the scales of the creature, a low, long rumble similar to a purr making the earth under them tremble.

Her back was pressed against his chest now, encased between the prince and the dragon, and he could feel each thumping of her heart against her ribcage, the amazed little hiccups cutting off her breath whenever Vhagar’s muscles shifted, or she got a little louder.

“You’re not scared,” Aemond murmured, and though it was meant to be a question, he only sounded surprised. Her eyes flew open, and she turned her head to look at him, her gaze lowering for a moment to where their bodies touched, as if she’d just now realised how close he was.

“I think she’s magnificent,” she responded, and her voice was still a whisper, eyebrows arching in surprise when Vhagar huffed, whipping her head back around to see her neck push against their hands with her sigh. Her gaze lingered on Aemond’s hand then, the way it almost cradled her own. “And you assured me it was safe - I believed you,” he felt her eyes move up his arm as she turned her head again, face flushed when she looked up at him. “Still do.”

“Gevie,” his hum rumbled in his chest, so similar to Vhagar’s she held her breath, curling her fingers back from the animal’s skin - Aemond’s hand closed over hers, their arms falling at their sides as she turned her head to look forward again.

“What does that mean?” this time, when she spoke, she did not meet his gaze. Aemond knew that, if she had, he wouldn’t have been able to keep it to himself - beautiful, he thought instead, hesitating in loosening his hold around her hand. When he did, she turned around in the circle of his arms, fully facing him, her arm stuck between their close bodies, the tip of their fingers holding onto each other a moment longer. “It’s gotten late, perhaps I should -”

Whatever she meant to say burned away when he crashed his lips to hers - he let go of her hand to pillow the back of her head as she gasped against his mouth. Aemond’s kiss made her stagger back a step, her hands grasping his sides as he held her up, kept her balanced while the leather of his clothing creaked under her touch.

Her hold was tight on him as he bowed his head furthermore, and when he brushed the tip of his tongue across her bottom lip - though he hadn’t seen her drink for the whole night, the faint taste of wine lingered, making him believe he could get intoxicated on that alone - she parted her lips for him, a whine escaping from the back of her throat when he licked into her mouth, searching more, searching all.

He curled his fingers into her hair, and it fell like liquid fire into his hand, soft and smooth and that scent of roses enough to drive him insane - he groaned, a sound of praise that he could not voice otherwise when her back arched into him, so much so he was sure he could feel the embroidery of her dress directly onto his skin.

His hold on the torch almost slipped, the flames grazing his skin - and then, Vhagar growled. The noise echoed in the dragon pit, and in a split second she’d jumped out of his arms, leaving him panting when she stepped behind him, putting distance between her, the dragon, him.

His fingers remained caught through her hair a moment longer after he felt the absence of her, and when he turned she had both hands folded against her heaving chest. Eyes shimmering, a red halo around her lips and bright cheeks, her gaze danced around the room, the darkness, doing everything to not settle on him. Aemond felt dizzy, a little drunk, and stepped towards her again.

“I should go,” her voice was hoarse, and she was out of breath as she stepped back with his movement, keeping the distance between them even. Aemond froze then, searching for her gaze - he could feel his own heart beating loudly, stopping the moment she met his eye. “Thank you, my prince. I - thank you.”

“Then I will -” her hands curled above her chest when he took yet another step forward, and she one step back.

“I can find my way back,” she anticipated, eyeing the torch carefully before returning her gaze to him. He could not understand the look on her face - dazed or angry or scared or just confused. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, ask, say anything, the words stuck like a knot in his throat.

Glossy lips pressed in a tight line, she bowed her head, the nod of a curtsy, Aemond watched her walk away hurriedly, vanishing into the darkness and leaving him aching, afire.

Wherever I look, there you are.

In halls and rooms and doorways, she moved just at the corner of his eye, over and over again. Sometimes, he saw her with his eyes closed, too, when the night was late and dark, and he had to remind himself he was alone. She lingered on the tip of his tongue, against his lips, in his hands, every inch of skin she’d touched or brushed against carrying her mark.

And yet, for days, she eluded him - remained closer to Helaena’s side, kept her head turned and her eyes low. She walked fast across the corridors, made her way out of a room when he walked in, unnoticed by all but him. He knew she could feel him looking at her, could see it in the flush of her neck, in the blood on the tip of her fingers after she picked too much on her skin.

He’d never known to be patient, and in this instance it was eating him alive.

“You’re distracted, my prince,” Ser Criston Cole called, swinging his morningstar too close to the prince’s face - he leaned back, out of reach, returning the blow with his sword, which the knight avoided carefully. “Your mind is elsewhere.”

“Yet I am still able to best you, Ser Criston,” he retorted, smacking the flat of his sword against his arm. The knight dropped his weapon with a scoff, lifting his hands in surrender - the training had left them both out of breath, and as he regained some composure, Aemond scanned the yard. A flash of red got his attention, and he saw her face in the crowd - he knew it was her, because the moment their eyes locked she vanished from his sight. “Excuse me.”

“Your Highness -” Cole tried to stop him when he dropped his sword, but the prince had already moved across the yard, cutting the training session short.

He wasn’t being careful, he knew, calling her name out loud, when so many people were around - but he’d gotten tired of waiting, and she was just there, just out of reach, across the yard and towards the gardens. She slowed down only once the Weirwood tree came into view.

“My lady, please,” he called then, still too loud, and she froze on the spot. The prince couldn’t remember the last time he’d even uttered the word. Please, a prayer carried by the wind through the leaves of the Old Gods’ tree, to her. She turned slowly, her hands interlocked in front of her. “You’re not going to argue with me calling you that?” he took a tentative step back and, when she didn’t move away, his shoulders sagged.

“What is it, my prince?” if anything, he could find comfort in the fact she didn’t sound angry. Her voice didn’t quiver, nor did it let on any other type of emotion. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your training.”

“I must apologise for the way I behaved the other night,” he spoke urgently, taking yet another step in her direction. Her eyes widened, glancing quickly around - no one else was there, no one but them. “I shouldn’t have done what I did,” still, he spoke carefully - her words made her shoulders lock. “I was no better than Aegon.”

“My prince -” her voice was much lower than his, and she rocked forward when trying to respond. For the first time, Aemond was the first one to look away from someone, his gaze lowered to the grass.

“You told me - you were right. We take without asking, demand and not wait for an answer,” he continued, and barely heard the rustle of her dress as she took a step in his direction, didn’t see the frown across her brow either. “I should’ve known better, I went too far. It was vile of me.”

“You’re nothing like your brother,” he looked up as she lifted her hand - the moment their gazes met again, she curled her fingers back towards her, as if she’d been in the act of reaching for him and thought better of it. “What he’s tried to do - do not think, even for a moment, what happened in the dragon pit was anything like it.”

Aemond shuffled forward, steps still careful as he approached her. Despite everything, despite his pentiment, he still craved being near her - his body betraying his words. He glanced at her hands again, half hidden in the folds of her skirt as she pushed her thumb over her forefinger, cracking it softly, over and over again.

“You caught me off guard, with -” when he looked back up, her cheeks were stained red, and she cleared her throat. “With that kiss,” she went on, brazen though her voice was low - the wind carried it away, towards the tree, through its leaf. The Gods were listening. “And then Vhagar - I was so caught up in the moment I forgot there was a dragon.”

It was his turn to frown, and when he realised how close they’d gotten, he let his knuckle brush the back of her hands. She sighed softly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she shook her head, quickly licking her lips.

“You got scared?” he didn’t mean to sound surprised, nor amused - somehow, he was both, and she huffed, tucking her chin down. “Yes,” she admitted. The prince hooked his pinky finger underneath her index, slowly guiding her hand up.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” relief had washed over him - he could still come back from the misstep. He could make it right. “Why?”

Her thumb locked over the tip of his finger, and she held him for a moment - her eyes were trained on his hands, dust staining his fingertips after the training, palms reddened from his grip on the sword. She let her gaze wander, nibbling at her bottom lip as she followed the curve of his knuckles, the shadow of the veins across the back of his hands, down to his wrist.

“What’s going on?” he asked again, wrapping his fingers around her wrist, palm against palm. “Does our deal still hold?” at that, her gaze flickered up to his face, worry creasing her brow.

He almost reached over, almost tried to smooth it down, almost kissed the creases until they went away. Almost, almost, almost.

“I got scared because for years I did not allow myself to need anything,” she spoke fast, words tumbling over each other in a whisper, the confession for him and the Gods only. “To want anything,” want, want, Aemond thought, watching her free hand move across her abdomen, drumming against her side for a moment, two. A flicker of desire to flee rather than speak crossed her gaze, but she tipped her chin up, met his gaze. “Not since I ran away.”

“You -” Aemond stilled - he had not realised he’d been rubbing circles across the back of her hand, an imitation of her gestures that night after dancing. “What?”

He thought he’d gotten a full picture, maybe some missing pieces about her - a single sentence, and he realised all the pieces were out of place. She swayed a little, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth - he wished to reach over and set it free from its cage, his thumb pushing into the soft flesh. He squeezed her hand, gently, instead.

“I was betrothed once - an awful man, who fell ill a few days before our supposed marriage,” he understood why, when speaking, she did not look at him - yet he desperately wanted to see the look in her eyes, try to get what she could be feeling. Thinking. “My family knew I didn’t want the wedding, so they blamed me - it was just luck, really. In return, I ran. Even changed my hair, hid myself for long enough they believed me dead.”

His gaze flickered to her braids, wrapped around her head like a crown, the crimson locks brighter in the sun. Her hand was limp in his, almost trying to get away but not really - Aemond did not let go, and on the tip of his fingers pressed to her wrist he could feel her heartbeat, rapid and erratic.

“No one has ever known - though I believe the princess has her suspicions,” this time she sounded fearful, and he slowly brought her hand closer to him, holding it to his chest. Her fingers curled around his, knuckles brushing the leather. “I started from the ground, and once I knew my family would not come looking for me, I moved up.”

“You’re highborn, aren’t you?” it only made sense - that it felt like she fit in because she did. That no matter how hard she tried, old teachings were difficult to forget. “Yes,” she said, simply.

“So you are a lady,” the tease caught her by surprise - no remarks, no questions. A joke, accompanied by a grin as he stepped closer yet, the tip of his shoe grazing the hem of her dress.

“No, not anymore,” she shook her head quickly, while his fingers interlocked with hers. “They’re gone - dead. Whatever fortune I might’ve had went to some cousin, or uncle, I’m not sure,” she shrugged. “I have no title, all my possessions come from my work. From Helaena.”

“Have you ever regretted it?” his breath fanned across the back of her hand when he brought it up to his mouth, her eyes widening just slightly when his lips brushed across her knuckles.

“At times. Not getting out of the marriage, or leaving them behind, but life would’ve been easier, and -” a hiccuping gasp fell from her lips, eyes trembling shut. “My prince, I can’t -”

“Want it,” he left the ghost of a kiss on the back of her hand, her fingers curling in his hold while he twisted her arm gently, exposing her wrist. “Just want it - because I do,” he was sure her heart was racing, pulse loud under his lips. “Litse mēre -”

She was more alert of their surroundings than him, despite the shortness of her breath - when she ripped her hand from his grasp he ached, until he heard the noise of steps over his shoulder. Ser Criston appeared with a frown across his brow, Aemond’s sword in hand and gaze temporarily perplexed until it found him.

“You should return to your training, my prince,” she cleared her throat before and after speaking, gaze wandering everywhere but on his face. “And I should go back to the princess. She’ll be expecting me,” she bowed her head, taking a step back.

Before she could move too far, Aemond grabbed her wrist - not tight, not hurting her. Had she wished it, she could’ve moved away; instead, she looked at his hand then at him, a little startled, a little perplexed. From behind him, Ser Criston called him.

“Can you make your way back to the dragon pit?” he asked, a little hastily, ignoring the knight even as he got closer. “Tonight - through the passages?”

“I -” her gaze flickered towards Cole, then back to his face - he didn’t know what she saw in his expression at that moment. Hope, perhaps. Anticipation. Worry, too, if he was being honest. “I believe so, but -”

“Meet me there,” he urged, half a step forward to shield her from Cole’s sight - or to hide him from her, regain her full attention. “Let me and Vhagar show you the sky - please,” again that word, that plea akin to prayer.

He did not wait for an answer, forced himself away, forced his gaze to turn - this time, he was the one walking away, and still he ached. Still he hoped.

For the whole day he hoped, distracted out of his mind. Everything he did, he did half-heartedly - he seemed to come alive only when she stepped into a room he was already in, her arm intertwined with Helaena’s or at their mother’s side, the queen talking to her rapidly. A princess’ companion, a queen’s confidant. A prince’s desire.

By nightfall, he’d already gone to the dragon pit and waited. Waited and waited, hour after hour, with Vhagar rumbling at his restlessness. He waited with his heart in his throat, wondering whether that had been the overstep - he’d given her the opportunity to decide, go to him or not, but would it have felt like a choice to her?

The lights of the torches flickered across the walls, and for a moment he didn’t see her - Vhagar noticed her first, her rumble turning in a purr at the sight of the flames reflecting across the woman’s hair. Aemond had not realised how much he’d truly hoped she would show up until she appeared, wrapped in a dark cloak, her hair unbound.

“You came,” he said softly, and she tilted her head a little at his surprise.

“I seem to have overestimated my ability to walk these passages,” she admitted, clearing her throat, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “I followed the warmth, hoped it would bring me here.”

A grin flashed across Aemond’s face, even as he watched her hold on the torch she carried tightening, the constant movement of her body - a slow rocking side to side, cloak and hair swaying with her as she looked at him, then Vhagar, then back to him.

“But you came,” he said again, taking a step in her direction. She remained on the spot, lowering the torch a little - there was enough light for them to see each other anyway. “I wish you to know you’re under no obligation - you can still walk back, and I shall leave you alone.”

“I’m here, am I not?” she asked, breathlessly, yet as she spoke her gaze did not falter for a moment. “Make no mistake, my prince, I’ve been at court long enough to know this -” she gestured between the two of them, vaguely, and simultaneously making it clear as day what she meant, “is no rare occurrence. I’ve also seen the consequences of it,” how Aemond wished to reassure her, to let her know he’d give her all she desired, if only she asked, and never before had he felt like that. Then she went on, her chin lifted, “But I am here.”

“Do not worry, litse mēre,” he smiled, one last step in her direction offering her his hand - this time, she did not hesitate, in spite of the light tremble of her fingertips. Aemond guided her closer until she was walking ahead of him, and in speaking again he bowed his head towards her shoulder. “I know you’re here because of her. I get it. Paktot, Vhagar?”

On hearing her name, the dragon lifted her head with a grumble - the woman seized his hand, eyes widening as she followed the creature’s movements. Aemond grinned again at the stupor painting on her face, the admiration as she still kept moving forward.

“It is not just her I’m here for,” he would’ve wished her to admit it while looking at him still, but he was content enough to hear her while seeing the look of awe in her eyes. When they stopped at Vhagar’s side, she frowned a little. “How do you -”

Before she could finish her sentence, Aemond had let go of her hand and kneeled by her side, one leg bent and his head thrown back to keep his gaze up on her - her lips remained slightly parted, one hand reaching for her chest as the other grasped the empty air where his had been.

“See that rope there, on her side?” his hand came to rest against the back of her leg, the warmth of his palm spreading even through the cloak and her dress, from the back of her knee down her calf. “You hold on to that, I’ll boost you up.”

“Have you done this before?” she wondered, prying her gaze away from him to spot the rope. She moved carefully as she grabbed it, pulling a little with both hands before looking back down towards him.

“Are you asking because you doubt my abilities or because you wish to know if there’s been someone else?” she huffed at his grin, tightening her hold onto the rope when his hand moved underneath her skirt, wrapping around her ankle. “Rȳbagon, Vhagar. Sagon sȳz.”

The movement was smooth, and she found herself straddling the saddle with a gasp, letting go of the rope to hold onto it, leaning a little forward as she regained her balance. A moment later, the prince climbed behind her, securing her in the circle of his arms. She felt his cheek brush the side of her head, lips almost brushing her ear as he reached for the chain that rested in front of them.

“There’s been no one else,” he murmured, fastening the chain about them, securing them to the saddle. Nor will there be, he thought, perhaps wished. This close, the scent of roses was almost overwhelming, the tip of his nose brushing the top of her head. “But you can trust me.”

“I do,” she didn’t even wait a beat to reply, turning her head just a little as if to look at him. Aemond reached past her, took hold of the reins - in doing so, her whole back was pressed against him, their bodies locked together.

“Good,” he hummed, sliding one arm fully around her, his hand splayed against her stomach. “Sōvegon,” he ordered then, his voice louder, and the dragon moved.

Long, thundering steps first, gaining ground as she spread her wings as much as the pit allowed and, once out, lifted off the ground. The prince felt her hold her breath as the creature’s body shifted underneath them, and could see at the corner of his eye her eyes widening, the grip she had on the saddle growing tighter to the point her knuckles whitened.

Aemond leaned forward, his chin hooked above her shoulder as his hand moved from her stomach to her chest, her collarbones, brushing the sliver of skin left uncovered by her cloak and dress with his thumb. Under his hand, her heart beat loudly, wildly, chest heaving the higher they got.

“Alright?” he asked, so close to her face his lips brushed her jaw. When she turned her head, her eyes were shimmering, and what he’d believed to be simple wonder parting her lips proved itself to be a smile, wide and perhaps a little wild. “More?” she nodded at both questions, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. “Tolī adere! Eglikta, Vhagar!” he called, and Vhagar jolted forward.

The woman’s hand left the saddle to rest over his, right above her chest and, after staring up ahead for a beat, laughter bubbled in her throat - loud and unabashed, tilting her head back so that it rested against the prince’s shoulder as her hair whipped behind her, past him, a crimson stain in the dark night sky. He left a kiss to the side of her neck, quick and bold, and she squeezed his hand in response, tilting her head enough to nose his jaw, just for a moment.

He would be content if that was all they had - a night of freedom, her eyes closed as she rested against him and laughed, the sound so lovely he’d forever cherish it. A single night with her secured in his arms, roses flooding his senses, the sea with no end in front of them, the infinite starry night sky above.

She fell from the saddle right into his arms with another laugh, quickly grasping his shoulders to keep herself up, her legs threatening to give out underneath her. Her face was red from the wind and euphoria, hair mussed around her head, her eyes so bright it seemed little fires had found their place underneath her eyelids.

“That was -” her voice was hoarse, but down to a mere whisper as she straightened in front of him, smiling so brightly lines etched at the corners of her eyes. “I have never felt anything like that, I -” again she cut herself off, regaining her breath as her hand fell into his, perfectly interlocking as if they’d done it time and time again. “Thank you, my prince,” she said at last.

He would’ve brought her to the sky every night if it meant see the look in her eyes again, feel the weight and warmth of her pressed against him even now that they’d moved away from Vhagar, her hands cold in his. He almost told her, too.

Instead, he reached up, pushing her hair out of her eyes, and then tucking the curled mass behind her ear as best as he could, thumb ghosting her cheek as he did so.

“Do you wish me to accompany you back to your rooms?” he spoke softly, the wind still roaring in his ears. She eyed the passages behind his shoulder, clicking her tongue before returning her gaze on him, nodding.

“Please,” she hummed, drawing closer, her head tilted to lean into his touch. He lingered there a moment, rubbing his thumb across her cheek as if he could collect the colour that tinted her skin.

When he dropped his hand and turned, he felt her shake her head lightly - she was still reeling from the flight, her heart beating so loud it was almost painful, and from his touch. Reassuring, firm, yet somewhat gentle - he’d shown her a care no one ever had before, and it twisted her insides, sent her mind spinning. She knew it was a dangerous thing, to let herself want so much, to let herself want him - but so many years she’d spent shutting her desires down, and he’d broken a dam that had already been cracking with his kiss.

There were torches up on the walls of the passages that she did not remember from the first night, nor from her descent that same evening, and she got the vague sense they were moving in a different direction. Aemond seemed to know the layout like the back of his hand, and she hurried along - he felt her get closer, hold on tighter, and glanced above his shoulder with a light smirk.

“I won’t get us lost, litse mēre,” he reassured softly, his thumb drawing a circle across the back of her hand. “The worst that could happen is we end up in Helaena’s rooms instead.”

“My prince,” a half scolding, and he slowed down. “You must stop calling me that,” he didn’t look at her again when speaking, but pulled her closer as they moved through a narrower passage.

“You know I can’t,” it fell like an almost bitter whisper from her mouth, her eyes trained on the back of his head.

The prince stopped in his tracks, turning around in one swift motion and trapping her between him and the wall. Her cheeks, still a little red from the night air, burned brighter as her eyes widened, shimmered when he bowed his head towards her.

“Say my name,” his voice was low, a raspier edge to it, echo of his shouted commands to Vhagar. “This once, say it,” he said under his breath, so close he could feel the places where her dress shifted against her legs.

“My prince -” the hand that she wasn’t holding rose across her body, the tip of his fingers tracing down the side of her neck, that same spot he’d kissed while under the stars, down her exposed collarbones, her chest and abdomen, tracing the lines of the embroidery absent-mindedly as his gaze followed the same trail.

“Say my name,” he repeated, squeezing her side from underneath the cloak. Each touch was electrifying, and she felt herself tremble through her shuddering breaths when he brought his hand behind the small of her back, guiding her forward with his fingers splayed against her spin, pushing her against him.

“Aemond,” she sighed, eyes fluttering shut. He let go of her other hand to reach up and cup her jaw, slowly tilting her head back. His gaze was scalding her skin as he pushed his thumb into her cheek, gently, her lips parting with a quiet exhale.

“Again,” he brought the tip of his thumb to the corner of her mouth, just barely brushing her lips. She held onto his side, swaying a little under his touch. Almost like the time they’d danced, a slow rocking as the leather of his clothes creaked into her palm.

“Aemond,” and then, bringing her other hand to the nape of his neck, eyes hooded as she searched for his gaze. “Please.”

How could he resist her, when she sounded so sweet?

Holding her chin, he bowed his head fully to kiss her - delicate, almost, and she melted into him with another sigh, heavy in his arms. This time, her lips parted without him having to coax her, as if she couldn’t get him near enough, close enough.

She was bolder this time, kissing him back with the same intensity, her tongue caressing the roof of his mouth - she groaned softly when the back of her head hit the wall behind her, a deaf thud that would’ve pulled him away, had it not been for her hand clasping behind his head, locking him there. Aemond let his hand move down the column of her throat, toying with the knot of her cloak without actually undoing it.

When they parted, it was to regain their breaths - she was panting, her nails gently scraping the nape of his neck. Aemond’s chest ached for lack of oxygen, yet he dropped his head lower, pushing her cloak away to kiss the area just beneath her collarbones - he could taste the sea air on her skin, hear the night in her heavy sighs as she buried her hand through his hair at last.

“I have something to confess,” his voice sounded distant, drowned by the rushing of his blood. He spoke against the tender skin of her throat, pushing her head slightly to the side to expose and reach more and more of her. “I don’t know how to get to your rooms from here.”

“That’s alright,” she chuckled, breath and low, and a small cry left her already parted lips when he nipped at her neck. “Take me to yours,” she whispered, tilting her head so her cheek rested against his temple, the strap of the eyepatch digging into her skin a little.

Aemond pulled back almost hastily, quick to bring his gaze to her face - flushed, her lips red and plump, her hair falling messily around her head, she glanced back at him. He needn’t ask anything - she was nodding already, a little hiccup making her chest heave as she brought one hand to his face. The heat of the moment tempered at her tender touch on his cheek, her fingers still somewhat cold grazing his skin - he wasn’t sure when someone had last touched him so gently.

She staggered a little when he moved away from her, quick to take her hand and start walking again - he kept her at his side this time, a nonsensical need to make sure she was there settling in his bones. As he walked, the distance seemingly infinite, he held her hand up towards his face, peppering a series of kisses across the back of it - it was almost amusing, the shy smile creeping across her lips at that gesture after the moment gone by.

He opened the door in front of her and walked in with his hands grazing her throat as he undid the knot that kept her cloak up, lowering his head to take her scent of roses, eyes fluttering shut. He let the dark fabric fall to the ground, hands never leaving her as he guided them further into the room, shoes abandoned somewhere along the way.

The fire was already lit, and its warm light reflected against the side of her face as he moved in front of her, her eyes wide as she took in the unfamiliar room, her lips slightly parted. There was wonder on her face, curiosity as she tried to gather as much knowledge as possible about him from the space he inhabited.

“So many books,” she mumbled as his hands reached her waist - instinctively, hers reached up his shoulders, rocking a little side by side with him as he lowered his head towards her again. Instead of kissing her lips, he found himself brushing across her cheek, down her jaw. “I’ve been told you’ve studied philosophy, and history, and -”

“Litse mēre,” he hooked one finger in the ribbon keeping her dress up fastened. “I truly do not wish to talk about philosophy, nor history, right now,” she lowered her gaze to his hand as he slowly undid the lacing. The ribbon sang underneath his calloused fingers, her breath quickening all over again.

“What does that mean?” she asked softly, and reached up his neck, unhooking the clasp at his throat as the upper piece of her dress loosened around her. “You’ve called me that before.”

“It means pretty one,” he answered, truthfully, opening her dress to reveal the wrinkled chemise underneath. His gaze lingered on her, hands dropping to her sides as she toohers back to remove the dress piece fully. “Ñuha litse mēre,” he hummed as she reached back up to finish undoing the fastenings of his clothing. “My pretty one,” he added as her palms slid underneath his shirt, cold hands kissing his skin, making him hiss softly.

Her lips were crooked in a little, almost sheepish smile, and she dropped her gaze from his face to his torso as she undressed him - her touch was terribly gentle, tracing the shape of his collarbones and down to his chest, tip of her finger following the lines of his muscles, the finely chiselled alabaster of his skin, further down to his abdomen, lingering at the V of his hips and the waistband of his trousers.

When she looked up again, as if to ask for permission, he leaned in instead, kissing her instead, his hold firm on her hips. She sighed into it, mellow and pliant under his hands - ever so slowly, he dropped his mouth to her neck again, and explored the spaces now left exposed with his lips, down her chest, tugging the lace of her chemise with his teeth before going lower.

She gasped when he knelt in front of her, trailing kisses across her sternum, stomach, hands pushing her skirt down until it pooled around her ankles - he gripped her hips, holding her upright when she swayed at his kiss to her hip bone. Left side, then right, gaze lifted towards her to catch a glimpse of her expression as she held herself with one hand on his shoulder, the other threading through his hair.

“Twice you’ve gotten a prince on his knees for you,” he whispered, breath warm through the thin layer that covered her stomach. “I wonder if it was more - wonder if Aegon -”

“Don’t talk about him now,” she snapped, a shadow of the wild thing that he’d seen in the sky, her grip tightening on his hair - the tingling against his scalp made him smirk, pulling against it to kiss her stomach again while his hands slowly reached underneath her chemise, brushing up her bare legs.

“As you wish,” he hummed, slowly gathering the fabric up, inch by inch of skin uncovered to the warm air of the room and his gaze. She aided him, removing the chemise and, down to only her undergarments, she held her breath underneath the prince’s gaze. “Gevie,” he whispered, his eye shimmering.

Scars littered her body, most small and thin, white marks shimmering in the firelight, a few from deeper wounds - in time, he'd ask about them, have her tell their story, her story (but that night, he only kissed her until his lips were sore).

“You used that before, too,” she said, breathlessly, as he got up again. Her hands found purchase on the waistband of his trousers, joining at the front as she toyed with the fastening, tilting her head back to keep her eyes on him.

“It means beautiful,” he wasn’t even trying to be subtle about fully undressing her first, his fingers slowly making their way past the waistband of her underwear, stretching the fabric as he caressed her hip bone. She undid the clasp of his trousers, lip trapped once again between her teeth - her pupils were dilated, chest heaving at his barely-there touches.

He kissed her lip free as he pushed the last piece of fabric off her body, a yelp suppressed between their connected mouths when he lifted her off the ground just a notch, moving her away from the pile of her clothes - he kept his arm around her waist, their naked chests pressed together as he backed her towards the bed, his steps a little too long, a little too quick for her too fully keep up as she grasped at his shoulders, arching furthermore into his touch.

She held onto him as she fell back on the mattress, the prince landing between her spread thighs as his free hand rested at the side of her, holding himself up. Still she kissed him, and he kissed her, and he could get lost in it all night long. Get lost in her all his life.

He pushed her legs a little more open as he pulled back, guiding her until she was lying between the pillows - her hair was spread around her, a holy halo of blood and her, a saint with bruised lips. Her hands, losing their hold on him, wandered unsure across her stomach and chest, almost covering herself but not quite.

Aemond held himself up with one hand, and let the other trace a straight line up her body - navel to throat, across the valley of her breasts. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch, neck craning as if in offering to him, and when he reached for her mouth, he tapped it gently.

“Open up,” in spite of the hungry look in his eye, his voice was softer, sending a shiver down her spine as she parted her lips, wide, glossy eyes set on him. Her teeth grazed the pad of his index and middle finger, and she wrapped one hand around his wrist when he pushed down on her tongue - he half expected her to pull him away, instead she wrapped her lips fully around him, cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucked on them. “Good girl,” he whispered, almost breathlessly, thumb brushing her jaw.

She moaned around his digits when he straddled one of her thighs, eyelids fluttering shut at the weight of him on her, his unbuttoned trousers straining. He could not stop looking at her, the slight bob of her throat as she kept licking the pads of his fingers while his thumb pushed into her cheek.

And then he pulled back, her eyes flying open as she whined at the loss, fingers digging a little into his wrist - he smirked, his head tilting ever so slightly as she met his gaze and her face burned, chest tightening. She felt out of control, unable to regain her grasp on it - so many years restraining herself, and it all crumbled around her at his touch.

“Easy now, my lady,” his voice sounded deeper, or perhaps it was just her blood rushing in her ears as he trailed back down her body, following the same path as before with wet fingers - sternum and chest and stomach and navel, further down her mound. There was a taunting note in his voice, in his smirk as he dipped his fingers between her legs, still observing carefully as her lips parted in a silent gasp at his stroke against her folds. “Seven hells, look at you.”

“Aemond,” a weak cry as she moved her hand up his arm - relinquishing control to him fully, hazy eyes carrying a plea. “I need you. Please.”

I did not allow myself to need anything, her words echoing in his mind, so fearful then, so heavy. Her choice of words was deliberate, and it struck just the right nerve in him. The prince’s gaze darkened, pupil blown wide enough the violet of his iris almost vanished completely and he leaned forward - the kiss he left at the corner of her mouth was almost chaste, and he hastily pulled back before she could deepen it.

He wanted to see her expression shift as he dragged his fingers past her folds again, the movement slick up to the apex of her core - she shook when he reached her clit, tracing a slow, circular movement over the bundle of nerves. She did not close her eyes, but bit down hard enough on her lip she risked drawing blood. Still stroking her, Aemond reached up with his other hand, pulling her lip free.

“Do not hold back, litse mēre,” he moved back down, and slowly - agonisingly slow - began to push one finger inside of her, knuckle by knuckle as she fluttered around him. “I want to hear you.”

She did not know whether it was his voice, so low and husky it felt like warm water rippling across her skin, his words, his unwavering gaze, or his finger, stroking her walls, curling inside of her and hitting a spot that had her vision flash white - she moaned his name, again and again, grasping blindly at the covers at her sides.

He dragged it on, pumping first one finger, then adding the second one, in and out of her, an unrelenting pace that had her panting, writhing under his touch, arching off the bed with his weight on her leg being the only thing pinning her down. The heel of his hand caught her clit again, the added pressure making the coil in the pit of her stomach taut, with shuddering breath and trembling thighs.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt, a fire scalding her from within, the strength of her release making the room spin - she cried out, unintelligible words and praises as she came gushing on the prince’s hand. It went on, making her shudder even as he pulled his hand back, drawing himself away enough to undress himself fully.

She reached for him as he situated himself between her legs again, keeping her thighs apart as she kept twitching, her chest heaving - one look in his direction, hands grasping at his shoulders to bring him closer, and Aemond was pushing himself inside of her. She whined at the stretch, head thrown back fully exposing her neck to him, the sensitiveness burning to the point of melting the line between pleasure and pain.

Aemond groaned when he bottomed down, hips pressed harshly into hers while he let his forehead fall to the curve of her neck, one hand pinning her down as she squeezed around him.

“Fuck,” her voice was hoarse, a deep exhale as her nails scraped his back - the signs would vanish by morning, angry red marks he wished instead to carry with him forever. “Oh, fuck.”

He kissed her neck then, the skin hot under his lips as he slowly made his way up to her jaw - canting his hips up into hers, he drew another cry from her, her walls fluttering around his length. For a while, he stilled, just kissing her skin, her parted lips, almost sloppily. He traced his way back up her body, each touch making her shudder, tremble, groan into his mouth when he cupped the side of her neck, thumb pushing under her chin before he pulled back.

“No,” she complained at the loss, hand buried through his hair to pull him back down - he felt the band holding his hair back snapping in her grasp and chuckled, fingers cradling the side of her face and tipping her head back.

“There’s no need to be greedy,” he let his thumb travel from her chin to her bottom lip, raw from kissing. “I want to look at you, want to see how you take it,” her exhale wrapped his finger, hot and heavy - and then her lips turned, almost a smirk.

“You want an awful lot, my prince,” she hummed, rocking her hips up into his. The friction made him groan again and grasp her chin - he pinned her body down with his, hitting a spot deeper inside of her that had her eye roll back with a choked back cry.

“My name,” he warned, leaning in close enough their lips were almost touching, teasing. “It is my name I want to hear from this pretty mouth of yours,” he rocked his hips to punctuate the words, releasing her chin to caress down her cheek - harsh and tender at the same time. “Go on, say it,” he pulled back, then drove into her again with a snap of skin against skin.

“Aemond,” combined with the grip she had around him, it was almost enough to tip him over the edge.

It turned into a chant, breathy and desperate at each snap of his hips, his own resolve starting to fail when her legs locked at his sides, her muscles going taunt. Aemond, Aemond, Aemond, a moan, a cry, her voice hoarse and sweet even when she cursed, writhing beneath him - and then, just like down the passages, she cupped her hand at the nape of his neck, gaze meeting his -

“Please, Aemond,” she whispered, and he kissed her.

It was the kiss that rocked them both, the prince’s movement turning sloppy a few instants before he stilled, pressing himself almost harshly into her as he twitched and came, a surprised moan falling from his lips that she swallowed while shuddering, the second wave of her own orgasm merciless, each muscle of her worn-out body mellowing.

For moments after, nothing could be heard in the room but the crackling of the fire and their heavy breaths - Aemond still slotted between her thighs, chest against chest as their running hearts reached for the other, bodies glistening and tired; in her haze, she’d started stroking the prince’s hair, silver locks singing between her fingers.

“Did I hurt you?” she frowned a little at the worried edge in his voice, muffled into the crook of her neck. She shook her head lightly, craning her neck to leave a kiss against his temple.

“Just sore,” she mumbled, and felt him exhale. Unable to help herself, she smiled, resting her cheek against him - she believed she could stay like that for the rest of the night, with his body draped over hers.

Aemond shifted to the side instead, pulling out of her with a groan kissed to her collarbone, and flopped on his back. She moved into his side, her limbs protesting with the movement as she tucked herself under the circle of his arm and tangled her legs with his. He turned his head just enough to see her - he’d never believed anyone would nestle into his side like that, her arm draped across him, a blissed out expression on her face.

Her eyes were closed, and the prince took the moment to just observe her - the now regular raising and falling of her shoulders; the goosebumps forming across the skin of her arm, fingers twitching as if to hold him tighter, but not actually doing it; her hair was ruffled around her head, partially covering the arm Aemond had snuck behind her to keep her close - as if she would vanish, should he not be holding her; the small marks that littered her body he absent-mindedly traced with the tip of his ring finger until he could reach them.

It pained him to move, but he slowly tried to detangle himself from her and gently push her to the side with a sigh - she groaned in complaint, suddenly holding him tighter, her fingers digging into his side.

“What are you doing?” he chuckled at the slight whine in her voice, bringing his hand up to her head and gently stroking her hair. “I’m just gonna snuff out the candles,” he moved down to rub her back. “Close the blinds - so I can take off the eyepatch,” he admitted, and she shifted slowly.

“Does the light bother you?” she wondered, turning so her chin was resting on his chest and her eyes, still a little glossed over, were lifted up to his face.

“No,” free to move his arm from underneath her, he reached up to brush a lock of hair that had fallen against her forehead, fingers feather-like over her skin. “But you needn’t see it, it’s not a pretty sight.”

She frowned lightly then, the tip of his finger catching the creases forming across her brow as she shifted again a little higher, arms crossing over his chest.

“Did it hurt you?” she asked quietly, brushing her knuckles across his chin, jaw, up to his cheek, lingering a moment where the scar ended - he didn’t even care her elbow was digging into his chest, however lightly, leaning into her gentle touch instinctively.

“I’m not sure,” he shrugged. “I was so euphoric about having claimed Vhagar, and worried about what might happen to my mother,” he wasn’t sure how much she knew about that night, whether Helaena or the queen herself had told her anything, but she seemed understanding enough he did not have to go into too many details. “I barely remember how it felt. It was just - disorienting.”

She hummed softly, thumbing the edge of the eyepatch. Aemond’s hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her motions - not harsh, but firm.

“Really, it’s not pretty to look at,” when he spoke, his voice was softer - fearful, even -, his thumb pressed into her pulse. Regular, calm, unflinching.

“I doubt it,” she replied, catching him by surprise as an almost amused smile appeared on her lips. “Not on this face of yours,” he laughed when she pushed the tip of her finger into his cheek, finding the dent of his dimple. Her smile brightened at his laughter - such an unfamiliar yet pretty sound. “May I?” she tried then, brushing the edge of the eyepatch again.

Aemond hesitated - losing this would be worse than losing anything else, he thought. Losing her, he thought, might ruin him.

Let’s make a deal, his own voice echoing in his head. Complete and utter honesty from this moment on - nothing hidden between us. I’d like to know all there is to you.

“Yes,” he said, letting go of her wrist - the skin around it was a little raw, and he fought the urge to lean in and kiss it better.

She moved slowly, a touch far more delicate than he’d ever used in removing the leather, up and over his head, mussing up his hair a little as she did. The air was cold against the now uncovered spot of skin when he leaned back against the pillows.

Her head was slightly tilted, and the hand that was not supporting herself up from his chest cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over and past the end of his scar, over and past, tracing the mark left behind by the eyepatch. There was an indecipherable look in her eyes, and Aemond felt his heart jump in his throat at the quiet.

“Well?” it amazed him how distant his voice sounded, a moment of panic seeping through. Waiting. Wondering.

“I think I expected an amethyst,” she said then, her thumb stopping at the corner of his eye. “To match the other one, you know?”

It was Aemond’s turn to frown, blinking repeatedly as he tried to process her words. His eye flickered to her mouth, watched the corners quiver with a threatening smile at his baffled expression.

“Are you -” his heartbeat slowed down, his whole body relaxed, and he buried his hand through her hair, the locks tangled in his hold as he reached down to brush her hip. “Are you jesting?” she laughed at the mock offence in his voice as she followed his touch.

She draped her leg past him before straddling him, pushing herself up with both hands resting on his chest. Her laughter etched lines at the corners of her eyes as both his hands fell to her hips, squeezing the flesh as she nodded slowly.

“A little,” she admitted, and her smile was so bright it burned his skin like dragonfire.

She bowed forward then, hands resting at each side of his head as she reached down to kiss his brow, right where the scar began. She repeated the motion under his eye, the spot on his cheekbone where the wound had ended, and Aemond let his eyes fall shut with a sigh. She left one last, light kiss against the scarred eyelid, and before she could move back he wound his arms around her, pulling her against him - inch by inch of skin touching, scalding the other with a little yelp coming from her, followed by another soft laugh, leaning into him.

“It truly does not bother you?” he whispered, a breath away from her lips. She shook her head, the motion small, tip of their noses catching - even at that distance, he could feel her gaze still on him, and he welcomed it. How many people had shied away from him, averted their gazes, avoided looking at him altogether - not her, never her, not even like this.

“Of course not,” she matched his tone, resting her forehead against his. “There’s more that makes you than blood and bone, Aemond,” she tilted her head, kissing his cheek - again a brush to his scar, making his heart lighter. “And nothing I could not want - certainly not your scar. Not when I have plenty myself.”

He caressed her side, the area where he knew there was one of those marks she kept so carefully hidden - a long, thin, ragged line across her ribs. She tilted her head to the side, sighing at his delicate touch. With the movement, he had access to the curve of her neck, where he left a quick peck that pulled a smile across her lips.

“Then I believe I must make sure none of them bother me,” he sat up, helping her onto his lap - she rocked into him with a hum, a chuckle, arms loosely hanging around his shoulders. So he kissed down her collarbone, her shoulder - a dark mark stood there, like a bruise that would not go away, and his kiss lingered over it. “One by one.”

litse mēre - pretty one rytsas, uēpa riña - hello, old girl sagon sȳz, emi iā zentys - be good, we have a guest gevie - beautiful paktot, vhagar? - right, vhagar? rȳbagon, vhagar - obey, vhagar sōvegon - fly tolī adere, eglikta - more fast, higher

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