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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months

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CH10. Cheque, Please! | The Menu [2.2K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

ONE YEAR LATER

The diner was packed.

Tables were full, the large room a buzz of chatter and music, the speakers playing an old sixties bop. It was a familiar sight, one that happened more often than not since Jim sold the diner. The new owner ripped the place apart, down to its old bones before he put his life savings into it.

New floors, new tables and chairs, artwork on the walls that were signed by Argyle, a photo of the whole staff taken and framed by Jonathan, Jim Hopper at the forefront, a wide smile on his face on the last day before his retirement. The bulbs in the neon sign outside had been replaced so it no longer flickered, the green and blue glow of it now announcing the diner’s new name, proud and bright for everyone to see.

Eddie’s Slice Of Chicago.

“Door! Behind!” You yelled out as you entered the kitchen empty plates piled high in your arms and Jonathan took them from you with practised ease.

Steve was on the grill, still hesitant and not as fast as Argyle, but he was flipping burgers quicker than he had last week. His chef whites were brand new, his name badge shiny and his front of house position taken over by Nancy. Everyone was in new uniforms, freshly pressed and a sage green, aprons still without stains and a pocketful of pens that didn’t run out of ink too quickly. Robin was taking orders, laughing with a family from out of town, letting their toddler grab at her finger as she promised them to return soon with their pizzas and shakes. Dustin was helping Max run a large order to a table of backpackers, a border collie under the table at their feet, getting its ears scratched by the new start, Mike.

There was a sign on the staff notice board, up beside the employee of the month, a piece of ripped paper with the words “SIXTY FOUR DAYS SINCE THE LAST FREEZER BREAKDOWN.” The rest of the space was filled with staff photos, polaroids and prints of the group at a fourth of July picnic, a barbecue at Jim’s in the summer, huddled around the kitchens countertops in the winter, drinking from mugs filled with Argyle’s homemade horchata, the frame that held Billy’s scrawled termination letter, an old napkin that held a small conversation in pen.

It felt more like home than ever. Even when Eddie wasn’t there.

Everyone answered to you in his absence, unofficially in charge when the boss wasn’t here. It had taken some getting used to, hell, you’d even tried to pawn off the responsibility to Nancy, or Steve, anyone who’d been at the grill longer than you had. But Nancy was part time, back at college during the week, taking Robin on dates in the evenings and Steve was too busy being trained as a new prep chef to worry about invoices and deliveries.

So you stepped into the role cautiously, softening to the idea when Eddie kissed you something fierce and told you that there wasn’t anyone else he trusted to do the job. His acceptance letter had come the month after taking over the diner. A thick, white envelope that lay heavy on your doormat because he’d finally moved in, sharing your small apartment with you like he did everything else.

Clothes. Jewellery. Books. Records. Food. Kisses.

Vincennes University offered Eddie the chance to do what he hadn’t been able to before. Refining his craft, learning new skills, working in a state of the art kitchen with equipment he’d come home and gush to you about. The diner was doing well enough that tuition wasn’t a worry anymore and suddenly, the long commute into Indianapolis for classes four days a week seemed worth it. Eddie was passing with flying colours, receiving accolades and opportunities at every given moment and when he came home, exhausted but happy, he came home to you.

Bone tired, he’d slip into the apartment, socked feet padding gently over the floorboards, Tupperware full of something delicious to be stacked in the fridge. He’d find you curled up somewhere, a black cat called Basil in the nook of your bent legs. He’d kiss you sweet, he’d kiss you soft, warming you up to a simmer until you forgot how much you’d missed him that day.

It was all worth it.

“Table eighteen wants extra hash browns and booth six needs two pepperoni’s and the Hawkins special, chefs,” you called to Steve as you slapped the orders onto the bar.

“Got it,” Steve and Argyle called back, one a little more nervously than the other but it was okay, ‘cause Eddie was home soon.

Eddie was home soon.

He’d called from a pay phone outside of the school, voice buzzing with excitement, with pride, and yours mirrored his back. He’d be on the train soon, he’d meet you at the apartment, if you could get away early. So you handed your keys to Nancy and she grinned, knowing there was a cause for celebration waiting at home for you. You drove Eddie’s van back along the road, coming into town on the familiar stretch, passing Wayne’s, the trailer park you both visited every Sunday for dinner.

The apartment door was unlocked, dimly lit in the early fall gloom, already smelling like garlic and tomatoes, like fresh bread and the scent of Eddie cologne that lingered on his jacket that hung in the hallway. Eddie’s records were in the shelves by your books, his guitar hanging from a hook in the tiny office room, his shoes on the bench by the door. He’d transformed your kitchen when he’d moved in, a decision that had been all too easy to make. There were pots and pans hanging from the rack, shiny, sharp knives that he was scared of you using without him there, jars and tubs of ingredients stacked high in the fridge and the pantry. There were fresh herbs in planters on the window sill. The radio always played.

The kitchen always felt like the heart of the home.

That’s where you found Eddie, sweater sleeves rolled up and grinning at you from the stove top, a large spoon in hand as he mixed in some fresh rosemary to the pot of sauce. He greeted you with a glass of wine, the cheap stuff that you liked best, catching you in a kiss before you could bring the cup to your lips.

He kissed you soft, kissed you sweet, humming when you laughed into his mouth, his free hand slipping inside of your shirt to ghost his fingers over your ribs.

“Hi,” you whispered. You’d never tire of this. This warmth, this kind of greeting, this feeling of coming home. “Good day?”

Eddie nodded, stealing another kiss, catching the corner of your mouth. He gazed at you, eyes shining with excitement and you could practically feel the buzz in his bones for what he was about to say.

“I got it.”

You blinked, once, before your smile turned into a grin and it stretched wide. You barely had the common sense to place your wine on the countertop before you launched yourself at the boy, your arms wound round his neck as your crushed your face into his curls. Eddie whooped, a joyful thing as he lifted you off your feet and grinned against your throat.

“You got it,” you whispered back to him, everything in you frilled with awe and pride.

“I got it,” he repeated again. His voice sounded thick.

The internship with Chef Emmelie was something that everyone in Eddie’s class was vying for. Eddie had spent an insane amount of time on his application, using you as his own personal taste tester in both work and home. New recipes were concocted, old dishes were reworked and it had all paid off. Eddie had been hand picked to work alongside one of the country’s greats, assisting in setting up a new restaurant, a fine dining establishment that promised to deliver nothing but the best cuisine to the masses. Eddie would help create the menu, and hopefully, maybe, eventually, take over as head chef.

It was another level of surreal.

“I knew you would,” you mumbled into his neck, pulling back only to crush Eddie’s cheeks in the palms of your hands and give him a kiss that ducked his breath away. His lips tasted salty, but perhaps that was your own tears you could taste. Eddie just held onto you tighter, his stew mix bubbling away without any attention. “Where is it? Have they told you where you’re setting up?”

You’d held Eddie’s hand as he clutched his application letter and promised him that no matter where they sent him, you’d follow. The only thing that tied you to Hawkins, was the boy and Basil was easy enough to smuggle into a cat carrier, once you could catch him. Wayne had squashed any hesitancy from Eddie immediately, waving him off and saying that there would be private jets for each of you once he hit the big time as the new celebrity chef. And of course, there was the diner.

Eddie laughed then, a breathy, disbelieving thing and he finally shuffled to settle you onto the small dining table that sat in the corner of the kitchen. He nudged his way in between your legs, sniffling when Basil appeared to wind around his own ankles and the only sounds were the purring of the cat and the simmering of dinner. You held your breath, brows raised, expectant.

London? Dubai? Paris? Los Angeles?

“They wanna set up in Chicago.”

—————

Going back to the city you left was a lot less daunting with Eddie by your side.

Wayne moved out of the trailer park and into your apartment, something that made leaving a little easier for Eddie. He still owned the diner, and promised to stop by at least a few times a month if scheduling around the new restaurant would allow. He’d found a new manager, a woman from town called Joyce who loved to bake and knew enough about taxes and accounting that she didn’t fuck up order and invoices. She loved the place like Eddie did, promised she’d do it proud.

(She met Jim on Sunday in summer and after she served him her famous cherry cheesecake, one date in the park had turned into three, into five and now they were inseparable. They spent most of their time walking around town, visiting farmers and Jim enjoyed his retirement by helping Joyce create new desserts for the diner.)

Eddie’s internship came with an apartment in the suburbs, a small townhouse that was far enough from the hustle of the city that you felt more at home than before. It was less bright, less loud and Basil had a garden to roam in, a bench beside a vegetable patch he could bathe in the sun from.

It had a pantry and old oak floors, a huge window that looked out onto the street that was lined with cherry trees, and a nook in the living room that you liked to read in. You found a job, pretty easily, a vintage bookstore on the edge of town that smelled like coffee and cinnamon, old pages and older stories. It was owned by an old man who let his dog sleep under the front desk, who brought in pastries for breakfast and made you sweet tea in the summer.

The restaurant opened in the spring. Hit headlines the following day, praising the special on the menu made by newcomer chef, Edward Munson. By the summer, the heat was climbing and so was Eddie’s popularity. He was running the restaurant, got to create a new menu every six weeks and the waitlist was booked out until Christmas. He told you he loved you every time you paid him a visit, on your lunch break, a whisper between a kiss hello and goodbye in the kitchen, coy whistles from his staff that he burned pink at.

And when you both drove back to Hawkins for long weekends and holiday stays, you crammed yourselves and Basil into your old apartment with Wayne, packed his freezer full of food and tried to convince him to take in one (maybe two) of the strays from the trailer park to keep him company.

You spent the Fourth of July with the diner crew, in the backyard of Jim and Joyce’s new home, sharing Polaroids and newspaper clippings of the restaurant, of your new home, Eddie’s menu. Steve was in awe but nothing could beat the look of pride on your boyfriend’s face when Steve told him he’d mastered a French omelette. Argyle was running the kitchen, Nancy had been promoted to assistant manager, part time or not, and Robin had helped Jonathan in running a Sunday morning coffee club, where Hawkins residents got to taste test new bean flavours over a pastry breakfast and some town gossip.

Eddie didn’t scowl much, not anymore.

And when you next bumped into Chrissy, you waved at her from under the tuck of Eddie’s arm, diamond ring glinting on your left hand in the sun. She didn’t have much to say to you, not after that.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff

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grand-theft-carbohydrates · 9 months

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i literally spend at least 2 hours a week just looking at various pictures of the terracotta army. utterly entranced. look at the details in the hair. you'd never see ANY of this when they're lined up in formation, but they're there.

theres about 8000 of these guys down there, no two faces are alike. they're works of art. they're the manifestation of a cruel despot's delusions of grandeur. a talisman against the terrible inevitability of death, both pathetic and strangely pitiful. like watching a child clinging to his blanket, begging you not to turn off the light. they were a bunch of insignificant clay statues from a side chamber that was so small and unremarkable, no one bothered to write down the location. they were modelled after real people. their only purpose was to serve qin shi huang in the afterlife, so he could reign in heaven as he did on earth. now the emperor is just a ghost and his pawns are immortal. my dad and i visited them in the dead of winter, on a weekday, just so we wouldn't have to deal with tourists like us. the place had easily 500 people--not including the ones below ground. we traveled to xian via the old "green skin" diesel train. there are faster means, like highspeed rail but dad insisted i try the authentic way, the same way he would have traveled when he was my age it was also like, a quarter of the price but im sure that had nothing to do with it! back in the 80s carriages would get so packed people had to have their luggage passed in via the windows. as we chugged along, i read my book and my dad made us cup noodles. car is just a shortened version of "carriage", the word is the same but the mechanism is different. it's the same in chinese. i think if i told someone from the warring states period i could travel from the Kingdom of Qi to Qin in just four hours with my metal carriage, i'd be laughed out of town--or accused of being a spy and sentenced to 'death by carriage.' we hopped off the train at 4am and took a different "carriage." the taxi driver joked; "basically every dynasty put their capital in xian, stick a shovel anywhere and you'll turn up some national treasure or another." i wonder what it would have felt like to be a farmer digging a well and then out pops a remarkably realistic human head. statistical analysis show the soldier's faces bear a strong similarity to people living in the region today. the taxi stopped in front of a jewellery-hawking tourist trap and refused budge an inch until we went inside. did you know the terracotta soldiers were originally multi-coloured and painfully gaudy, just like the greek marbles? they were made assembly-line style. the arms and legs were made from the same workshops that made clay plumbing pipes and roof tiles. for quality control, the artisans were required to stamp their names. the workers who built these tombs were executed shortly afterwards, because only dead men can be trusted with secrets. qin shi huang's mausoleum is unlikely to be excavated in my father's lifetime, or mine, not unless i'm willing to take a BIG ONE for the team... instead of the tomb, they built some kind of qin shi huang-themed theme park next to it. not only was it tacky as hell the entrance fee was like $50. we went to the museum and i looked at bronze tools and pottery shards for three hours. look why can't we just crack the thing open i can't be the only one here whos dying from curiosity what if we all just took turns digging

#qin shi huangs terracotta army #warring states #qin dynasty #thinking about Her...<3 bronze tools and pottery shards <3 #my writing

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earthtooz · 2 years

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in which you give bakugo katsuki the silent treatment

warnings: 2.3k words, fluff fic, slight hurt but mostly comfort, bakugo is sad :( he doesn't like being ignored, i wrote this weeks ago i can't remember shit about what i put in this. UNEDITED ASF!!!

a/n: this was not supposed to be a standalone fic, this was actually meant to be a multi-character thing about giving them the silent treatment but that didn't turn out as planned bc i have no time so i only have bakugo ready lol! hope you enjoy

there’s a pair of crimson eyes burning holes in the side of your head and you can feel the gaze penetrating further and further into your skull with each passing second.

you almost have the nerve to ask when bakugo katsuki learnt how to use his armour-piercing shot with his eyes.

but alas, you bite the inside of your cheek and continue ignoring him, fingers tapping away on your keyboard to finish up your report.

it’s now day three of your silent treatment. your boyfriend has endured 48, painful hours of the punishment that he rightfully deserved and he’s been restless for all 48 hours. it’s a miracle that he’s survived this long because you totally would’ve expected him to blow up already.

how ironic that he’s acting sensible now yet couldn’t hold his tongue when you two were taking down the villain.

the event that caused bakugo’s predicament was actually the report you were finishing, a gang of villains - experienced ones, had broken into a high-end jewellery store and stolen majority of their dazzling diamonds and you and bakugo just so happened to be on site.

you were expecting a robbery chase that happened at least every three days. what you weren’t expecting, was that they were good. like, really good.

one of the thief’s quirks kept grazing you and it didn’t help that the communication between you and bakugo was off that day, so when you meet up with him again after splitting up, unconscious villains in tow with a few injuries to pair with it.

he failed to stop the big words that tumbled out of his mouth.

“what the hell was that? you seriously failed to listen to some simple instructions? you might wanna go back to being a fuckin’ sidekick because of how shit that was and you have the nerve to call yourself a pro?” thundered the explosive blond, whose face was getting closer and closer to yours with each passing second.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you took down the villain, what was the big deal? “excuse me?” you muttered lowly.

that seems to tick him off even more, “you heard me! that was embarrassing to watch, kept getting hit and injured by some shitty extra. we don’t need heroes like you to screw things as simple as a robbery chase up!”

bakugo had been ticked off the second he first entered the agency this morning, so you were aware he was in a bad mood and you probably were the final strike to him letting loose of his temper- but that was not an excuse for the venom he was spitting. no matter how desperately you wanted to retaliate, you kept your cool for the sake of your relationship and also because you were in public. you didn’t need anyone listening to realise that it was you that bakugo was shouting at, so with no sound, you turn around and meet up with the police, villains in hand.

that seemed to shut him up pretty easily, thank goodness to your eardrums.

“we took ‘em down,” you said the second the police scrambled out of their cars. you tried to keep the frustration and anger out of your tone but the way you threw the villains with a little more force than necessary against the police car caused the officers to flinch.

a certain blond appears not long after, now calmer and more guilty-looking.

“thanks you two. we dug through our records and found out that these criminals have been wanted for a while. kept escaping under our noses,” one policeman says with a grateful smile. you don’t bother to return it, blaming it on the cut on your cheek.

“no problem. just call us if you ever need us again,” you tell him with a proper nod.

you and bakugo watch the policemen secure the villains, not moving until the last car leaves your sight.

he turns to you and finally says something to break the suffocating tension between you two.

“you should probably get some first aid for those cuts.”

bakugo tries to sound normal- really, he tries, because the second you turned around and left him in the alley, he realised the magnitude of his stupidity and felt his heart drop to his stomach, fearing for the worst.

with a small ‘tch’ from you, you’re gone the next second from his sight, probably flying back to the agency.

you don’t speak to him. even when he spams your phone with check up texts, even when he returns after patrol, even when he walks into your office whilst you rapidly type away at your laptop furiously, making more typos than you’d like to admit.

“hey,” he says sternly, trying to capture your attention with little success. “c’mon, talk to me.”

bakugo rounds the table and bobs down beside you, careful not to aggravate you by touching you even though it was hard to resist the temptation. natural boyfriend instinct.

“y/n, i didn’t mean what i said back there, i swear,” he continues, “i was just, fuckin’ mad at- i don’t even know, and i shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

it’s beautiful how he can say everything beside ‘sorry’.

“please don’t ignore me.”

he’s frowning, and you really wanna look at him and respond, but you don’t and this dance continues for the next two days. bakugo asks if you want coffee; no answer but he brings it for you regardless. bakugo asks if you need help sorting through the mess of papers on your desk; no answer but he cleans it up regardless, in the exact way you like it. bakugo asks if you need him to run by the support gear department to check up on your costume; no answer but he does it for you regardless and tells you all the updates as well. (he’s not doing it for your forgiveness. this is a usual routine you two have so even without your answers, he knows whether you’ll say yes or no.)

now he’s sitting in your office whilst you finish writing up the report you’ve been neglecting for a while because often, to speed things up, you and bakugo split up the paperwork but with you pretending like he, your boyfriend, doesn’t exist, that wasn’t really possible.

at the 67th hour of no speaking, he snaps. now that you two were officially off the clock and could return home or do as you please, bakugo spends no time picking you up from your chair with little to no effort as a noise of surprise slips past your lips.

you want to ask where he was taking you as he glides through the halls with determination and vigour, his shoes clanking against the marble floor with each step he took, keeping you secured in his arms, pressed against his chest.

there’s a string of curses that you could yell at your boyfriend right now and don’t be mistaken, you could very easily take him down, if it weren't for how much you had missed him.

(you feel slightly terrible for keeping up this silent treatment because that pout on his face is growing by the second, but it’s what he deserves and you wouldn’t relent until a proper ‘sorry’ is given.)

in your moment of zoning out, bakugo has reached his car and seated you in the passenger seat, leaning over you to secure your seatbelt. the kiss he places on your face practically radiates with his complacency at getting you safely in his car.

you huff and cross your arms as he rounds the vehicle to the driver’s side. bakugo hands you the aux and you take it, plugging in your phone to find your shared playlist and you don’t miss the smirk he has when he sees the familiar playlist name pop up on the screen.

the drive is painless enough with no words being exchanged, the music muting the silence that still had some tension lingering in it.

bakugo’s taking you back to his apartment and sure enough, the second the car is parked (perfectly), bakugo tells you ‘don’t move’ before exiting and jogging around to get to your side.

you let him pick you up again with a sigh but it’s all for show, especially the way your heart flutters when you notice he’s hugging you a little tighter this time.

he’s probably afraid you’re gonna run off (he’s had that fear since you first started dating).

sure enough, the explosive blond doesn’t set you down until he steps foot into his bedroom and from there, he throws you on his expensive ass bed with ease, clambering atop you before crushing you with all his weight.

a little ‘oof’ escapes you.

“‘m not getting up till you speak to me,” he lazily threatens, wrapping his arms around your middle. “so you can either get comfy or stop messin’ around.”

“i’m still mad at you, y’know,” you murmur, bringing your hands behind your head whilst staring up at his ceiling. the man lying above you stiffens, taking his head out of his chest to look up at you.

“i’m sorry,” he gruffly confesses, unable to look you in your eye when you glance back down at him with your jaw agape and eyes widened.

yes, he should have said the apology ages ago. yes, it’s been long overdue. yes, you were still surprised that he managed to get those two syllables out of his mouth.

above all, bakugo katsuki is stubborn, unrelenting and powerful, and you’re surprised he succumbed without you suggesting for him to apologise.

you sit up on your elbows, recovered from your brief moment of shock to tell him, “you’re not forgiven.”

“what?” he gawks, outraged, “what else do you want from me?”

“it’s been two days! you could’ve said ‘sorry’ two days ago and i would have forgiven you!”

“fuckin’ hell, i didn’t think of that.”

“bakugo katsuki, are you really that stupid?”

“take it back!”

“not until you take calling-me-a-lame-hero back!”

“i’m sorry! i take it back!” he winces, “you sure know how to kill a man, huh? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean what i said, now talk to me again, y/n, these past few days have been torture!”

you can’t help but smile at his desperation. he never acts like this for anyone so you’re going to enjoy these rare moments of vulnerability for a little longer.

“told me to go back to bein’ a side kick,” you huffed, “that’s not a bad idea actually, maybe i’ll listen and apply to be midoriya’s. or todoroki’s. they’re climbing the ranks quite quickly-”

“-y/n!” he’s whining now and you’re afraid you have a manchild lying atop you now.

“i’m joking.”

“you’re mean.”

“oh so now i’m the mean one? what about when-”

“-shut your mouth!”

“is this another one of your instructions? telling me that i’m unworthy of being a hero to the extent that i need to shut my mouth-”

“-stop it!”

you fall back on his pillows in a fit of laughter and as your giggles fill the room, bakugo can’t help but feel his heart ache. this is what he’s been yearning for for the past few days, moments that are so unexplainably, unabashedly you that he realised he doesn’t want to go another day without it. now that you’re back in his arms, he knows everything will be okay, especially with the familiar feeling of your hands carding through his hair.

��i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to be that mean,” he begins after a moment of silence. it takes a few more seconds for him to continue, “i was just freaking out seein’ you get hurt and i was really fuckin’ panicking because those injuries were totally avoidable. i should have protected you and i shouldn't have gone at you for just doing your job. i was scared.”

you can't help but melt a little at his confession, and the way you can feel him frown into your skin whilst tugging you closer, you feel more loved than ever fathomable.

“thank you, katsuki. i appreciate it but you know i can take care of myself, and i know you’re always going to protect me when i need it. i trust you, more than anyone else.”

bakugo closes his eyes in content as he tugs himself closer to you than what should be considered possible. you welcome him for all of his roughness and raggedness. he just might be doomed if he didn't have you.

“we should really move in together,” you suggest.

“yeah, yeah we should.”

after a few minutes of silence, you begin to speak up, “i have my night patrol soon, you have to let me go, babe.”

he squeezes you tighter, “but i literally just got you! i’m getting my three days worth of attention, fuck your patrol.”

“that’s not very heroic of you,” you murmur, “now let me go.”

“no.”

above all, bakugo katsuki loves you.

hai hai :D thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed that PLS CONSIDER REBLOGGING!!!! i hope that i didn't fuck anything up too much lul i'm so tired but anyways, YAH REBLOGS HELP OUT SO MUCH SO PLS!!!!! one click 🗣🗣🗣

that's all from me, hope to see you around the blog! - earf

#idk what this was #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo imagine #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

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i think bakugou likes to be babied a little bit.

nothing too drastic, of course, i'm thinking about some simple cuddling behind closed doors after he's had a very long, very tiring day at work. with him pressing you tightly against the mattress of your shared bedroom late at night; your legs comfortably spread just wide enough for him to fit his burly body in-between, and whose hefty weight you can feel resting on your stomach and chest the moment he lands it there.

so all of it is so simply cozy; intimate. your souls are merging without either of you putting in the effort to actually meld them, further strengthening the bond between you. running your fingers through his thick hair that's still slightly damp from the shower he's just finished taking, you stare at the dark ceiling with a sleepy smile ghosting over your lips as you listen to your boyfriend's breathing. it's turned slow, almost languid.

peaceful.

moments pass as the shadows continue to dance on the bedroom walls, and your sleepy smile breaks into a grin when he inhales deeply and sighs in the exact same way most dogs do when they're tired from a long day of playing outside. his skin is completely bare underneath the thin duvet; so warm. he's got nothing else on except for the thin golden chain that you've gifted him as an anniversary present for your fourth year together, and that's now dangling loosely around his neck.

the pretty jewellery is also warm to the touch as you untangle your hand from the ash blonde spikes to stroke down the back of his neck instead. there's no pendant. you didn't want it to be too tacky because you know he prefers to keep things simple, but who knows... maybe he'll add to the gold by hanging a ring on it someday. maybe.

the corners of your mouth twitch at the thought as the heel of your palm glides along the valley of his spine, following along the subtle dip in-between his broad shoulders which you've completely memorized by now. your fingers trace the familiar remnants of his past scars; some thin and barely visible, others so deeply etched into him that they'll surely brand him until the day he dies.

rubbing his bare skin like this fills the room further with his potent scent. he smells fresh; like citrus and something pleasantly sharp that you can't possibly pinpoint for the life of you, but you know it barely matters because it'll all be overtaken by the signaturely sweet smell of caramel at some point anyway.

all that matters is the touch you give. the contact you provide.

so neither of you talks as you hold him like this. you just anchor him; petting him all over, and allowing him to piece himself back together in the dark in his own pace. he's content with just listening to the sound of your heartbeat as it gently lulls him to sleep, is satisfied by feeling your hands stroke him all over his back; coaxing the strained, aching muscles there to finally relax.

he loves you so much, he hopes you know that. you're the only one who gets to see him so vulnerable like this. who still hears him even without a single word uttered into the darkness, who gets to hold him like he's a small kitten in dire need of help, instead of a supposed brute of a man, who's inching towards his thirties and who should apparently serve as his own pillar as far as social norms go.

but fuck social norms, truly. he holds onto you a little bit tighter as sleep begins to creep up on him, calloused fingers sneaking underneath the hem of your dynamight t-shirt just so he can stroke your sides a little bit before he passes out. he does it so that he can pay you back, at least in some way for staying up so late and waiting for him to return home safely. for actually giving him a sense of home to return to in the first place.

and oh, how sweet; your heartbeat quickens at his touch, he can hear it. it kisses his cheek, repeatedly pecking the skin that's been tinted with a shade of soft pink because of the warmth shared between you. it's calming and soothing to him, just like your doting hands are. just like your very existence is.

so bakugou finally allows himself to fall asleep because of the comfort your existence provides, with his consciousness ridden of the many horrors his job brings. nothing matters but you and your touch, and the sound of your heart, and your breathing, your warmth and your scent. all of it together wipes his mind entirely clean.

still, there's only one more fleeting thought that flashes through him before he fully succumbs to his dreams. one that brings a mere hint of a smile upon his lips.

you love him, too. you truly do.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bnha x reader #biscuit drabbles #bakugou x reader

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amaya-writes · 7 months

Note

for ringtober i think it would be so funny to see the obey me brothers reacting to reader losing her ring lol i just know some of them *cough* Mammon and Asmo *cough* would be sooo dramatic

Ringtober Masterlist

Notes: I actually thought this was such a fun idea and had too many thoughts abt it so had to do hcs lol

Warnings: n/a just fluff

Characters involved: Lucifer, Mammon. Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Gender-neutral reader, you/yours

Lucifer

Highkey mad.

He cannot believe his fiance could be so irresponsible, and will state as much. His reaction and words will probably hurt, and he doesn't realise that until later.

Lucifer is out doing yet another task with Diavolo when the demon prince casually mentions how he saw you looking all over the place for your ring and you seemed quite sad.

You somehow convince Mammon to help you out since he's literally the best at finding shining things (and keeping them to himself, but he's too scared of Lucifer to steal your ring), and Solomon since he seems to have a solution for everything.

At the end of the day when it's dinner time and you're still not back at RAD trying to find your ring, Lucifer can't help but go find you.

He embraces you and says he was wrong to chastise you so harshly, your determination to find the ring showcases you weren't being irresponsible but it was just a small accident.

Lucifer isn't a very openly affectionate demon which is why he was hurt that you lost a symbol of his rare affection.

When the two of you return to HOL you're happy to discover Solomon waiting at the gate for you.

Apparently, Cerberus had been sitting on your ring the entire time. It must have slipped off when you were petting him and fell onto his dog bed.

Lucifer finds the entire ordeal sort of amusing, and you can't help but giggle too as you promise to pocket your ring before you pet Cerberus, or any other animal for that matter.

Lucifer secretly makes a duplicate of both of your rings the next day, he can't believe he didn't think of doing that before. He also thinks it would be cute to pass down the duplicates to your children.

Mammon

Is actually a little offended.

That was the first piece of jewellery Mammon acquired without stealing it. He even worked extra hard for his modelling agency to save up white money for you.

He never wanted anyone to ever be able to tell you your engagement (and wedding) ring was bought unfaithfully.

So, after putting in so much effort Mammon couldn't help but feel at least a little offended you just lost the ring.

To make matters worse you lost it because Asmo took you to get manicures and the lady over there misplaced it.

"For all we know it could be stolen by now!"

Mammon lets out a big annoyed huff and decides to give you the silent treatment for the rest of the day.

This doesn't last long and he ends up going to your room to find you, he feels sad seeing you look so dejected and decides to sort of apologise.

"Look what's done is done no point gettin' all sad bout it."

He feels worse because you seem genuinely sorry and apologise a lot.

Things end well because Asmo shows up at your room a little later with the ring in his hand. He says the receptionist found it with your wallet, which you also happened to forget there.

Leviathan

You did what?! That's it you don't love him. This whole thing was a lie, you clearly don't care about Levi or his love for you, you-

He will literally break off into the longest ramble ever and you're too scared to cut him off and make matters worse.

Levi locks himself up in his room and refuses to come out or talk to anyone. It gets so serious all the brothers are involved and you're all figuring out different ways to find your ring.

Lucifer eventually casts a spell and figures out your ring is in...Levi's room?

You storm to his door and tell him if he doesn't open it right now you won't have to find the ring because there won't be a wedding (a blatant lie, of course).

He opens it, you talk, and that's when Levi remembers he actually took your ring from you last night because he wanted to click pictures.

The ring was a custom design made to subtly match the design of the first game you played together, so obviously when Levi got a new installment of the game featuring the tiara your design was inspired by he just had to get a picture of the two together.

You were asleep on your gaming chair and he didn't want to wake you up so he just slipped it off your hand, but then forgot to give it back and just kept it in his drawer beside the game.

Mammon and Asmo couldn't help but laugh at how stupid this entire ordeal was, the rest of the brothers follow suit and then leave the two of you alone.

Now Levi's sheepish and the one apologising except he's just going on another ramble of how you probably hate him and won't talk to him but he deserves it.

Literally won't shut up until you cuddle him and tell him it's alright.

Satan

Locates it with a spell.

But first, Satan finds it so amusing how worried you are that he just has to play along and pretend to be annoyed.

If anything this whole ordeal was his fault because he was the who dragged you out to pet the street cats. In fact Satan almost lost his own ring when one of them was playing with his hand.

He has a small amused smile on his lips as you profusely apologise and insist on dragging him back to the park at midnight to try and find the ring.

Satan lets you ramble all the way there but when you two reach he realises you're getting a little too sad for his liking, so, he tells you to calm down and whips out a handy book of spells he had on him.

Ends up finding it in less than a minute, and that was a good thing too since the kitten playing with it looked like she was going to swallow the ring.

He triumphantly rescues your ring from the kitty, coos and pats her for a bit, and then return to your side with a boyish smile that almost quells your annoyance.

"You could have done this the entire time?!"

Satan lets out a genuine laugh so rare at your question you couldn't help but let your anger slip away as you laughed with him too.

He decides it's a good idea to recreate the moment he proposed to you and kneels down on one knee, slipping the ring on your finger and pulling you in for a kiss.

The moment ends up being a surprisingly romantic one you fondly retell to Asmo, who ends up gossiping about it to anyone with ears willing to listen to his squeels.

Asmodeus

Will never let you forget this.

When I tell you this man screeches.

Has the most girly squeeky yelling voice ever, in fact you actually can't even feel offended because you're too busy trying not to burst out laughing.

He's not even that mad about the ring he's more annoyed that you left him the entire day and were at Diavolo's hanging out with Barbatos and Luke.

"First you forget me then you lose the symbol of my love for you- next you'll be finding a new devilishly handsome demon to marry!"

Gets pouty. VERY pouty. Expects you to not leave his side at all until you find the ring, which is almost impossible since how could you find it if you don't leave his side?

"Well, then you'll just have to spend eternity stuck to me. I can't have you parading around without a symbol of affection, after all."

Thankfully for you Barbatos comes to the rescue, even if it's many hours later.

By the time Barbs shows up at HOL you've already spent an entire day apologising to Asmo and being by his side every second. He almost didn't let you go to the bathroom alone, claiming its nothing he hasn't seen before.

You had spent so many hours sitting on his lap idly combing your fingers through his hair or drawing random shapes on his chest you were certain you would go crazy.

Asmo didn't even let you check your DDD, which was too bad considering Barbatos messaged you about the ring almost as soon as you reached HOL.

When Barbatos drops by HOL during dinner you can't help but hug him excitedly as you thank him for finding the ring. He casually claims it was never lost in the first place, Barbatos simply set it aside after you removed it so you wouldn't get it dirty while baking.

Asmo seems almost sad to see the ring again since he doesn't have an excuse to keep you by his side anymore, but he gets over his poutyness after you suggest having a sleepover.

Safe to say you did a lot more than sleeping that night.

Beelzebub

Is probably the most calm of them all.

He asks you if you accidentally ate the ring, because he's constantly scared he might end up eating his ring.

You're kind of confused and ask him why he isn't offended or something and Beel just says he knows you would never lose it on purpose.

In fact he helps you try to find the ring so the two of you spend the entire day retracing your footsteps and having a lot of snacks.

By the time you make it back to Beel and Belphie's bedroom, which was the first place you went to help Beel wake up Belphie, you've almost forgotten about the ring.

The day just felt like a fun date with Beel and you found yourself feel grateful for having such an understanding and sweet husband-to-be.

You only remember the ring again when Belphie perks up as the two of you enter the room, suddenly reaching for a shiny object on his bedside table.

"Oh there you are, your ring slipped off this morning, I tried giving it to you earlier but I couldn't find you or Beel."

The three of you end up laughing about the situation, Beel gives Belphie some sushi he bought for him (because you cannot convince me Beel isn't that type of sibling who always gets you food when they go out) and you all just end up having a calm night in.

Maybe a movie night with loads of popcorn.

Belphegor

Looks at you with the most 'are you fucking kidding me' expression ever.

You not only chose to wake up the avatar of sloth in the middle of the day you also did it without giving him any of your usual kisses or hugs and paired that with very VERY bad news.

At this point you might as well run for your life.

The way you shake him awake almost startles Belphie but your nervous mannerisms as you just sit beside him quietly makes him wide awake.

He's now staring at you expectantly and you have no choice but to admit your mistake, which leads to a very annoyed Belphie.

"I expected better from my fiance."

Almost as mean as Lucifer if not more. Depends on how sensitive you are to such things.

Unlike Lucifer he doesn't chastise you too much, instead gives you that 'I'm disappointed in you' silence that makes you want to scream in frustration.

You knew you shouldn't have told him, but you were somewhat hoping Belphie somehow had your ring.

You end up apologising and then scramble out of his bed ready to race out of the attic and restart your ring hunt, but are tugged back by a familiar arm loosely wrapping around your waist.

"Where do you think you're going?" "To find the ring, of course." Belphie scoffs, but lets go of you to instead stand up beside you, this obviously confuses you, making him almost regret leaving his peaceful slumber for you.

"You look like you're going to burst into tears any minute. The chances of you seeing, much less finding, anything are little to none."

He sounds pretty guilty as he says it, making you smile softly as Belphie takes your hand and leads you out the room.

He almost immediately goes to Satan and just asks him to do a spell to find the ring. This not only surprises but also annoys you since you could have done that first and Belphie wouldn't even know the ring was gone.

Ends up being in the attic bathroom, you spent last night with Belphie so when you took your morning shower in his bathroom. You must have forgotten to wear your ring after you were done.

You thank Satan profusely then head back up with Belphie.

He beats you to the bathroom and slips the ring back on your finger, raising your hand to drop a tired peck on your knuckles.

"Don't lose it again." His voice is soft and he pulls you in for a quick hug with his chin resting on your head.

It's clear Belphie feels bad for snapping at you, so you two end up dozing off for the rest of the day.

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hwaflms · 9 days

Text

𐙚˙⋆.˚ nct 127 as 1d songs!

‧₊˚ 💭 ✩彡 , , 0.69k, fluff + slight suggestive + slight angst, just lil snippets of you and 127 with one direction songs, not my usual writing style, TELL ME UR FAV 1D TRACKS

♡ taeil . . . last first kiss

rainy days, soft smiles and soft kisses, nicknames, casual dates, putting away groceries, taking photos of things to show each other later, promises, painting dates, secret handshakes, prolonged stares, drawing each other, approving photos to post, kisses on the top of your head, karaoke nights, trying street food together, song recommendations, deep questions, laughing over some soju, denial and hesitation, splashing each other with wet hands

♡ taeyong . . . little things

LONG showers, buying clothes for you, matching jewellery, folders in your galleries for each other, perfume, long talks over tea, words of affirmation, flowers, crying in front of each other, wine nights, slow dancing, sending you reminders to eat, falling asleep over call, learning ukulele together, staying-in days, holding hands 99.99999% of the time, corny jokes, bike rides, playing video games, cutting fruit for each other, naps while it's raining outside

♡ johnny . . . she's not afraid

secret movie dates, drive-thru mcdonald’s, tight dresses, tousled hair, long video calls, subtle lock screens, orange-scented soap, sneaking out at night, drunken confessions, the two of you together in the background of every photo, watching scary shows, kissing in the dark, running, texting while in the same room, lying in his arms, windy nights, knowing each others favourite songs, screenshots, hushed whispers, road trips, dancing in the kitchen

♡ yuta . . . perfect

parties at 1 am, hailing taxis, long sloppy kisses, tucking hair behind each others ears, red bull cans, blasting music in the car, ice cream runs, eye contact, skinny dipping, cheap hotels, playing pool, texting late at night, beach walks, wind blowing in your face, meeting in secret, italian restaurants, thin cigarettes, messy sheets and hair, windows all the way down, knowing smiles, wearing his shirt at home, soft gasps, motel pools, cherry lip balm, getting tattoos together, getting kicked out of parties

♡ doyoung . . . half a heart

soft sweaters, missed calls, buying his detergent, matching rings, soft wispy clouds, two different kinds of juices in your fridge, puddles, picnic dates, mixed up socks, never deleting photos, the first text after an argument, books with notes in them, walks by the river, watching a show together, conversations in the dark, spontaneous coffee meet-ups, naming plants, museum visits, drives in the rain, saving memes about each other, empty lockets

♡ jaehyun . . . no control

stargazing, drinking on rooftops, meeting at parties, red cups, pool nights, lipstick stains, the smell of his perfume, oversized clothing, driving fast when the roads are empty, voice messages, morning kisses, private playlists, tinted taxis, looking for each other in a room, holding your hair back, strong coffee, silk pillowcases, clothes on the floor, selfies on each others phones, muffled moans, drunk tattoos, pinching his cheeks

♡ jungwoo . . . 18

amusement park dates, walks at night, letters on beige paper, photo booth pictures, ugly keychains, playing on the seesaw when the playgrounds empty, passing notes, keeping said notes, bracelets, having each other as your lock screen, messy beds, lists of baby names, knowing each other's favourite songs, extra toothbrushes, shampoo bottles, yearbook cutouts, shoebox filled with letters and trinkets, holding pinkies, random texts throughout the day, talking to his mom on the phone, long calls

♡ mark . . . i want to write you a song

pure innocent love, cafe dates, warm hugs, board games and hot chocolate, writing songs for you, sharing clothes, pecks while smiling, cookie recipes, said cookies ending up burnt, karaoke nights, acoustic guitars, writing desks, cheek kisses, grocery shopping, badly taken polaroids, long walks, late night conversations, photo albums, beanies when it's cold, holding hands under the table, wearing his glasses, breakfast in bed, bouquets, scarfs, walks along the sand

♡ haechan . . . temporary fix

stolen glances, smokey rooms, making out in the back of a taxi, moonlight, hair flying in the wind, playing footsie under the table, jealousy, talking on the phone late at night, eyes meeting across the room, drunken kisses, sitting on his lap, lots of 'are you awake?' texts, vodka sours, mirrored lense sunglasses, dyeing each other's hair, locking doors, lips on your neck, avoiding questions, stupid contact names, waking up in his clothes, empty wine bottles, bright sunsets, 10+ tiktoks and memes every morning, voice notes of him singing

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asumofwords · 7 months

Text

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Drug use, drinking.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Jesus christ, this is a monster chapter, but I also don't want to cut it down and split it up. Hehe, thank you all for your love for the last chapter! Poor Aemond and poor reader! Anyway, Enjoy! <3

Chapter 13: Proposition

The evening came quickly, and Helaena had dressed you in a deep green, silk dress. It came to your mid thigh and had a swooping cow neck at the front. Thin straps went over your shoulders and crossed at the low back of the dress, the material light and flowing, soft against your skin.

Helaena told you that she would never wear it when you had argued with her about putting it on, and had even insisted upon you keeping it afterwards. You paired it with some black heels and gold jewellery, with your hair up and away from your face, keeping the nape of your neck cool in the warm air.

Helaena wore a long lavender dress that almost matched her eyes, a sheer netting over the top of it with embroidered and beaded stars and constellations. She looked ethereal, and you felt over dressed for a dinner with her family. But she had told you to live a little, and that they would all be dressed to the nines, ensuring that you wouldn’t be joined by her sister and her husband.

When you made your way downstairs, heels clicking against the stone floors, Helaena had steered you away from a smaller, more intimate dining hall, and back outside to the long table you had passed that morning.

The table was covered with glimmering candle light, smaller fairy lights nestled amongst the table whilst large candelabras stood tall in the middle and further to the edges, casting it aglow in a warm light. Fairy lights were strung in the trees in your periphery, and the whole scene reminded you of what an intimate wedding celebration would feel like.

However this was just a normal night for the Targaryen and Velaryon family.

The latter, already sitting at the table.

Lucerys’ head had lifted at your arrival, wide smile spreading across his cheeks as he looked up at you. Jacaerys following his line of sight mirrored his smile and stood, younger brother standing, before both came around the table to engulf you in a tight embrace.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Jace smiled, flicking his eyes to his aunt and then back to you again.

“Last minute plans.” You chuckled, hoping they wouldn’t sense any tension from you, or the fact that your chest still felt sudden aches when the thought of a tall, silver haired man popped into your mind.

“Glad you came,” Luc added, “You’ll be able to meet mum.”

Mum.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, a woman of conviction and power. You would be lying if you said she wasn’t an inspiration to you. Defying all odds and sexism within the industry and profession of law, and surpassing her male counterparts with an ease that could only be graced upon someone from birth or with hard work.

“I would like that.” You smiled back.

Helaena led you to sit with her in the middle of the table, opposite the two brothers, and the four of you dissolved into comfortable chatter as you waited for the others, the sound of cooking and smell of food wafting from the kitchen just inside.

When Daeron had arrived, he had chosen to sit beside his sister, nodding at his nephews before asking Jacaerys, with a cheeky glint in his eye, how the Tully boys were. Jacaerys, clearly now aware of his friend and uncles little tryst, asked him back how Kermit was.

“Very good.” The youngest Targaryen sibling smirked.

Lucerys blushed.

You were mid conversation with Jacaerys before his eyes lit up, looking behind you. You turned to see a vision of blue and silver. Your breath stilled in your chest.

Baela and Rhaena stood behind you, the twins looking as though they had been plucked from the stars themselves. Rhaena wore a deep blue dress which glimmered as she moved, small flecks of sliver glinting like the night sky. Her locks were long down her back, held together by silver clasps that had small stars and jewels that dripped off of them.

Baela stood beside her twin sister, thigh length silver dress with a high neck and low back, covered in a mesh that dripped off of her like cobwebs. Her silver coils were half up, half down on the top of her head, held by a simple claw clip.

You had to blink to get yourself to stop staring at them.

No wonder people thought these families were descended from Gods.

You, in that moment, felt awfully plain.

You stood and went to embrace the two girls, little squeals pealing from all of your mouths as you hugged each other with joy. It had been a while since you had seen the pair last, and now that they were here, you felt suddenly excited to be at the Keep.

Baela’s eyes roamed over your body, “Damn girl, look at you. If only Cregan could see you now.”

You instantly blushed, slapping her shoulder lightly, “Flattery won’t get me into your bed, Bae.”

The twin smirked, “Worth a try.”

“You think I haven’t?” Helaena joked, mock rejection on her features.

You all sat down, Baela beside Jacaerys, and Rhaena beside Luc, chatting excitedly with each other as Daeron popped the cork of some wine, and Helaena, a bottle of champagne, filling up the respecting glasses of everyone who sat at the table. Reaching forth, you took your champagne glass, bubbles fluttering up the glass flute as you clinked yours amongst everyone else’s and sipped.

It was sweet, and smooth, almost creamy to the taste, and you realised that this was probably the best champagne you had ever had. You took another sip, much larger than the last, deciding to let loose for the evening with your friends, enjoying the warm burn of the alcohol as it passed down your throat.

You were laughing with Jacaerys, reminiscing how he had gotten too drunk one night and passed out on Cregan’s couch, cuddling a pillow to his chest, when Baela’s perfectly manicured brow lifted, eyes looking behind you.

Aegon appeared from within, two bottles of alcohol in either hand and a clear ziplock bag hanging from clenched teeth.

Inside, four meticulously rolled joints.

He sat down beside you with a huff, plopping the drinks onto the table noisily with a clunk, one tequila, the other, some sort of amber drink, whiskey or brandy perhaps.

He pulled the zip lock bag from his mouth and threw it unceremoniously into the middle of the table. Baela smirked, and Rhaena snatched the bag up to inspect its contents.

“Fuck yes.” The younger twin, Baela always made a point that she was born first of the two of them, exclaimed.

“The King shall always provide to his loyal subjects.” Aegon joked in mock regality as he looked down at everyone from his nose.

“Come off it.” Daeron groused, “Is it the good stuff, or the shit stuff you give to people you hate?”

Hand on chest, Aegon gasped, “How dare you insinuate that I would give you bum blunts. An outrage, I say.”

“It’s the good shit.” Helaena confirmed, grimace on her lips, “Egg forgot to tell me that when he offered me one last week. I smoked the whole fucking thing in one hit thinking it was the shit stuff from last time. I had never been so close to greening in my life.”

Jacaerys' eyes widened, “You? Greening? Jesus, must be the good stuff then.”

“Only the best for Daddy.” Aegon smirked, eyes flicking to you.

Heat rose in your cheeks.

Be a good girl for daddy.

You crossed your legs tightly at the memory of Aemond driving his length into your folds.

Aegon noticed your reaction but said nothing, the faintest push of his tongue caught in his cheek.

“Right,” He clapped his hands, grabbing the bottle of tequila, cracking open its corked cap, “We are all going to get royally messy this evening because I am tired of seeing my nephews sappy, sullen faces.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys frowned.

Aegon grabbed your champagne glass from your fingers, a small grunt of disapproval from your lips as you watched him throw the remaining drink down the back of his throat. He then tipped the tequila bottle against your champagne flute and began to pour.

“Woah!” Your hand lifted the lip of the tequila away from your flute, a drip rolling down your finger.

He had almost filled it half way full.

Aegon raised his brow at the others as the chefs began to bring out the food and place it on the table, the bag of joints not being moved from plain sight.

You supposed the chefs did not care, and were only paid to cook.

The smell from the dinner made your mouth water, each dish perfectly made to different tastes and requirements. Baela and Rhaena had fish, Jace and Luc, lamb. Daeron had a vegetarian pasta of sorts, and Hel the same. Aegon was given a large steak with mashed potato and a red sauce that swirled delicately over the plate, baby carrots steamed atop.

And for you, your favourite dish.

You eyed Helaena in shock and she had shrugged, essentially telling you that she had requested it for you. You smiled at her warmly in thanks, nudging her with your shoulder.

All around the table, everyone began to drain their wines and champagnes, where Aegon then filled their flutes and glasses with either tequila or the amber alcohol, which you came to learn was a honey smoked whiskey. But in Aegon's case, he took two glasses for himself, and filled them both.

Laughter and smiles were plentiful around the table as you all ate and drank, the warmth from the tequila seeping into your pores. Each sip was smooth, though still hard to swallow. Your face would scrunch each time, and Aegon would almost always snicker at you. You had not been given a chaser nor a mixer.

When dinner had finished, and dessert had been served after, a soft meringue with strawberry puree and passionfruit pulp, Jacaerys had suggested that you all go for a midnight dip.

You and the girls had raced to Helaena’s room to get changed into your swimmers, drunkenly stumbling and giggling through the Keep, careful to not make too much noise to disturb Rhaenyra and Daemon, and their three younger children, though it would be hard with the enormity of the estate.

Criston Cole had met you on the stairs when he came to investigate a stream of squeals that Helaena had let loose as she had slipped on a bottom step and landed heavily onto her bum in laughter.

His deep eyes had narrowed, and Helaena had given him a dismissive wave as she lifted herself, grabbing your arm and Baela’s, who in turn grabbed Rhaena’s, before you all made a mad dash out the kitchen, past the table, alcohol and joints missing from them.

The boys were already inside of the spa, large enough to hold at least twenty people, but intimate enough for you all to be spread apart and for it not to feel weird. Bubbles foamed at the surface as Jacaerys passed his joint to Aegon blowing the smoke from his lips, head tilted back to the sky.

“Took your time.” Aegon teased, joint at his mouth as he inhaled.

The night sky was clear, bright stars twinkling above you as a quiet settled over the estate. The sound of crickets and cicadas were loud in your ears, and you could have sworn that once or twice, over the sounds of the others and the jets of the spa, that you had heard an owl. It was a warm night, but not too warm to make the steaming, bubbling water uncomfortable.

You climbed in beside Aegon, Helaena beside you, with the twins beside the two brown haired brothers. It was clear that they had a stronger bond to each other rather than their aunt and uncles, having grown up together after their mother had passed, and Daemon had married Rhaenyra.

“Hel fell down the stairs.” You giggled, taking the champagne flute Daeron held out to you, actual champagne inside this time, not tequila. You thanked him silently and took a steady sip of the drink.

Luc snorted, making grabby hands at Aegon who still held the joint. The eldest uncle narrowed his eyes at the younger boy before reaching across the water to hand it to him, snatching it back teasingly just before the Velaryon's fingers could have grabbed it, before finally letting the youngest of the group have it.

“Don’t you green out." Aegon teased, "Your mother will kill me.”

Your mother.

Not sister.

Not Rhaenyra.

Your mother.

The dynamics of this family was certainly strained, but amongst the sons and daughters, what little tension there had bled away with the steady hum of the bubbling spa, the flowing of drinks, and the high that all got from the joints Aegon had provided.

Jacaerys had offered it to you, and you had taken it with slightly pruny fingers, inhaling a small drag, as per Helaena’s warning, feeling the dry smoke, not at all like cigarettes, move into your lungs. You held in a small cough, and then breathed it out, tingles rippling up your skin.

Oh shit.

It was the good stuff.

A small littering of giggles exploded from you as you handed it to Aegon, whose smirk only got wider.

“You should have seen his face!” Jacaerys laughed, watching as Lucerys grumbled beside him, smile working its way on his lips as Jace retold the story of Cerwyn and Dalton Greyjoys propositions to both you and Cregan.

“Did baby Luc get scandalised?” Aegon teased, lips pouting at his nephew.

Luc’s cheeks flushed as he grumbled, “I wasn’t scandalised. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“How did you not expect it from Dalton? The man is a walking sex toy.” Baela teased, hand pushing back a stray curl from her face.

The water of the spa was warming you up. That and the alcohol, and maybe also the joint combined. And also maybe because the topic of discussion had suddenly come to your sex life.

Uh oh.

“So,” Daeron turned to you, “Did you take them up on their offer?”

All eyes were on you.

You blushed, bringing the champagne to your lips to sip, hoping the cold drink would cool you down.

“No. But I did consider it.” You smirked, feeling a little bolder, “Cerwyn I hadn’t expected, but Dalton had tried his luck before.”

A wet arm wrapped over your shoulders, Aegon pulling you towards him lazily, “And what did the ‘King of The North’ think about this all? Are you two still bumping uglies?”

You turned to look at Aegon, whose face was startlingly close to yours, his lids half shut with ease, violet eyes slightly glassy from the joint. It was clear he was high, and drunk, but there was something else about the way he looked at you.

You scoffed a laugh, “It’s complicated.” You omitted the part where Aemond was the complicated part, “Cregan actually encouraged me to think about it. And to be honest, I did.”

“No way.” Rhaena smiled widely, “Dude, where do you find these men?”

You laughed, head thrown back, “Rhae, if I knew, I would tell you. They just find me somehow. Annoying sometimes, really.”

“Speaking of annoying,” Baela butted in, “Heard you’ve been sharing close quarters with Aemond.”

Your heart raced in your chest.

You looked to Helaena as you swallowed thickly.

Had she told Baela?

“Can't believe Aemond isn’t here. Mummy’s favourite.” Aegon grumped, “Twat.”

“Hey.” Helaena piped in, chastising her brother, “Don’t be a dick. You know he hates it here.”

Aegon clicked his tongue at his sister and lit another joint beside you, fingers lightly tracing over your shoulder, goosebumps erupting on your skin. You felt your nipples stiffen, pressing against the material of your bikini in response, and you sunk lower into the bubbles to hide it.

Everything was heightened, the alcohol, the high, the warmth of his body and the water around you, his touch. And it was hard to not feel some sort of involuntary reaction.

Baela looked at you expectantly, as did all else.

“It’s fine. He’s quiet. Keeps to himself mostly.” You explained, suddenly feeling like you were on the witness stand.

No-one responded, all waiting for you to continue, as though you hadn’t given them the answer they wanted to hear, and so you did, “He can be a dick at times, and we have gone head to head on numerous occasions.”

Jacaerys laughed, and Luc smiled widely. Both knowingly enjoying your answer.

Daeron and Aegon looked at their nephews.

“What?” Aegon asked, curiosity laced in his voice.

“Y/n brought Cregan over after a fight with Aemond, and let’s just say, they weren’t quiet about it.”

Aegon’s laugh exploded across the pool area and everyone else followed, head thrown backwards against the damp tile of the spa as he laughed. His eyes were scrunched closed, and you noticed the faint blush that rose on his cheeks.

Aegon was handsome, in a soft way. There was nothing sharp about his features, bar perhaps the top of his jaw, and his lips were far less severe than Aemond’s. It was no surprise to you that Aegon got around. A whore Helaena called him. He had this naturally flirty charm around him, and this cocksure personality, but you knew, beneath it all, that there was the same insecurities that Aemond had. Only Aegon was better at hiding it. Or, not really. He was just better at drowning it out between the legs of someone new, alcohol or drugs, or some blissful combination of the three.

But there was no denying that he was just as beautiful as the others.

Aegon stopped his laughter and looked at you, your head swimming in the clouds. A smirk pulled at his rosy lips, and his eyes lowered to your mouth momentarily. You snapped your head away, feeling guilty and all too exposed, heat rising within you again.

The twins raised a brow at you in unison.

Goddamn twin connection.

“I bet Aemy would have hated that. Or maybe even loved it.” Aegon teased, and Helaena scrunched her face in disgust.

“I’ve heard Y/n and Cregan before. They’re not quiet, let me tell you that much. My noise cancelling headphones are probably my best investment.” She teased, and you felt your face and chest bloom with heat.

You stood suddenly, water sloughing off your body as everyone looked up at you.

“It’s hot. Is anyone else hot? I’m hot. I’m going to go in the pool. Okay. Yep.” You babbled, flustered.

One leg after the other you walked speedily to the cool water of the pool, feeling everyones eyes on your back, but most of all, the heated gaze that lingered on the globes of your ass.

Aegon was not at all being shy with the way he was checking you out.

You jumped straight into the icy pool feeling the cold water shock you into a more sobered state. You rose to the surface with a squeak, and watched as Baela and Rhaena stood, running towards you directly as they cannon balled, in sync, in front of you. You laughed at the large splash, and soon, in no time at all, everyone joined you in the pool, giggling and joking and splashing around loudly.

The rest of the night was spent in good spirits, but Aegon’s gaze never seemed to leave you. And even in your drunken/high state, you knew that that was a line that you would not cross.

Could not cross, even if you wanted to.

As the night grew long and you lay looking up at the stars beside Helaena, sharing the last joint, you all decided to pack it in for the night and head to bed, cheeks rosy and eyes glazed. You all but fell into bed with Helaena, not bothering to change into pyjamas, the both of you stripping nude in a tangle of giggles as you slid to each respected sides of the bed facing each other.

You had the girlish giddiness sneak up on the both of you, and soon enough, your stomachs were cramping with how much you had laughed. Helaena was the first to fall asleep, and you shortly after, pulled down into the warmth of rest alongside her.

When you rose the next morning, your head felt a thousand pounds heavier, and you struggled to sit up right. Helaena was no better, groaning as she rubbed her eyes, hangover sweeping the life out of the the both of you with no mercy.

Although you were both as dusty as dirt, you felt slightly better about the whole reasoning of you being here. You felt less guilty of being with your best friend and her family, and even felt good knowing that you had gotten some space from Aemond in the mean time.

You didn’t even really mean to think of him, your chest aching at the thought, but you attempted to brush it aside anyway.

Needing a distraction, and possibly a good morning doom scroll, you pulled your phone from the nightstand which you had left and forgotten the whole day before.

Clicking open the screen, you were met with a barrage of texts.

From Aemond.

You looked at the texts for a moment, heart immediately beginning to race in your chest, which caused the headache that had been steadily blooming to thump in the back of your head.

You gnawed at your lip roughly looking at the texts over and over.

What do you say?

Clearly he was feeling bad, and wanted to talk to you, but what if he wanted to tell you that he was moving back with Alys? What if he wanted to talk about her? You didn’t know if you could face that just yet.

You both needed time.

Space.

And he needed to think about what he had said.

About what he wanted.

You fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Do you text him to tell him you were okay? Even though you were not?

If you opened up the conversation by responding, he would no doubt suck you back in, and you were not ready for that yet.

“I’m never drinking again.” Helaena groaned from beside you, turning over. Her eyes were red rimmed with shadows underneath, and her hair was an absolute mess of waves and tangles, the chlorine having made the silver strands wispy and dry.

You locked your phone, not responding to Aemond as you placed it back on the bedside table. That was something you would face later, with a full stomach and a clear mind. Y

es, that’s what you would do, let yourself think of a way to respond.

And so you left him on read.

You cracked a smile at Helaena and giggled, “You always say that.”

“I mean it this time.” She clutched her head and whined, rolling onto her back, “The day I got you in my bed naked, I never would have imagined it would be like this.”

“You’re such a perv, Hel.”

“You love it.” She snickered, and you laughed.

The next few days in the Keep were spent by the pool with Helaena and her family, your presence acting as some sort of buffer between the Velaryon's and Targaryen’s, who warmed up to each other considerably with each day past. You were thankful for Rhaena and Baela’s presence, who seemed to humble Aegon greatly in a way that Helaena couldn’t.

Though you had still felt his eyes lingering on you here and there, but it all stopped one day, rather abruptly, no more flirty comments, no more flirty half lidded gazes, no eyes flickering to your lips and back. Not even a mention or liken to being a Gazelle, and instead, Aegon had become the perfect gentleman. You wondered if Helaena had said something, and actually suspected as such when the two would share glances at each other whenever Aemond was mentioned.

However, you didn’t ask because you didn’t want to flog a dead horse. There was no new development to that story. No new change.

Nothing.

Except the texts from him.

You had not checked your phone since you saw those messages, and in fact, were too scared to even look at it in case there were now more. You had left Aemond on read, and felt a great deal of guilt about it. But you were hurting too. And really, you didn’t want to burden Helaena with another stupid breakdown when her family was readying themselves for a death.

The death of the patriarch at that.

That morning, Baela and Rhaena had crawled into bed with you and Helaena in the early hours, telling you that Rhaenyra and Alicent had organised for the whole family to have dinner that evening, and that their step mother was looking forward to talking to you.

“They’ve heard great things about your work at the firm from Alicent.” Rhaena explained.

Alicent had spoken about your work at the firm to them?

That meant Larys had spoken to Alicent about you, or Helaena did. You wondered how often your name came up in conversation between the Hightower’s and Strong’s. You shivered at the image of the latter.

Disgusting little man.

Where the night of your dinner a few days before had made you a little nervous, the prospect of the dinner tonight set you on edge. You had sat in front of Helaena’s vanity and worried over your makeup, taking it off only to reapply it again almost three times, feeling that not once it had been right. Helaena had told you to take steady breaths, and you had, letting her fix your eye makeup before she gave you a deep, red dress to wear.

You frowned.

Helaena never wore red.

“Where did you get this?” You asked her, feeling the soft material glide through your fingers.

“Saw it and thought of you. It would be perfect for tonight.”

Your mouth hung open, “Hel, no. Return this. I can’t wear this, it’s too much.” You held out the dress to her.

The material alone would have cost a fortune, and you didn’t even want to think about how much it truly would have cost.

“Oh, come off it. It was going to be your birthday present, but I hate waiting, and tonight seems a good night to wear it.” She insisted, bright eyes shining at you excitedly.

“Hel…” You said uncertain.

When would she stop with her generosity? It was spinning you in circles.

“At least put it on for me.” She sighed, “Please.”

You rubbed the soft material through your fingers, looking at the way it moved like water across your skin, thinking of other options that you had brought with you.

But what else would you wear?

You had some other dresses you could, but they were more going out for drinks kind of dresses, or day drinking ones in the sun. Not at all something you would wear to dine with Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen.

You swallowed dryly.

Why was this making you so nervous?

Looking back up at Helaena, you saw that she was watching you expectantly, with a hopeful eye that she barely contained.

There was no saying no to her.

“Okay,” You acquiesed, and watched as a bright smile cracked across her lips, “But I’m only going to try it on, and then you need to take this back to the store. It's too much, Hel. I'm serious.”

The Targaryen shooed you with her hands to change, “Yeah, yeah. Scold me after you put it on.”

You stripped quickly as Helaena fixed her hair in the mirror, the material gliding over your skin, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel like perhaps it had even been made for you. The material was soft and cool, but warmed quickly against your body, thin straps and a low back, the dress coming down to your ankles.

It was unlike anything you had ever owned.

You spun around, looking at yourself in the mirror, hearing Helaena gasp behind you, tucking a wavy curl behind her ear as her bright eyes roamed your body.

“You look so fucking beautiful.”

Your hands smoothed down your sides as you looked at yourself.

You felt beautiful. But it was still too much.

You moved to the bed, looking at the other dresses that you had laid on the sheets.

“Okay, now that I’ve tried it on, you gotta take it back.”

“I can’t.” Helaena said, matter of fact.

Your head lifted, and you narrowed your eyes, "Sure you can. Take it back to the store.” You picked up a soft amber coloured dress. It had sweet ruffles to the skirt and lace trimming, but only came to mid thigh, “Do you think this would be okay?” You held up the dress to Helaena.

“You’re wearing that dress.”

You sighed annoyed, “No.”

“Yes. I didn’t get a receipt. So I can’t take it back.”

“Surely you can-“

“-Nooope.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.” She grinned, standing, “Anyway, time to go. Can’t change now.”

“Hel.”

The Targaryen woman just smirked at you cheekily, and you saw hints of Aegon’s mischief in her eyes.

“You’ve been plotting.” You narrowed your eyes at her.

“When am I not? Besides, like I said, it's a present.”

You grunted, annoyed that she was so stubborn, but also so grateful for something so beautiful. You really could not have asked for a more kind and caring best friend.

“Fine, but it’s birthday and Christmas.”

Helaena shrugged, watching as you put on some simple black shoes.

When you got downstairs, the table outside was made and ready, candles lining them again in a similar way that they had a few nights before, only this time, the table setting was more particular. There were three plates stacked atop each other for every person, a large one, medium, and then small, and beside the plates were three different sized forks, knives and spoons.

Your breath nearly stilled in your chest as you saw her.

Rhaenyra Targaryen.

A living legend.

One of the best of the best in the realm, and beside her, her husband, known for his abrasive, but successful, skills in court. And they were just as beautiful as the rest.

Rhaenyra had long flowing silver hair, pulled back by braids at the back of her skull. Her nose was sharp and aquiline, and as you looked at her, you saw more Aemond in her than any of the other children of Viserys. They both had plump, yet sharp lips, high cheekbones, and jaws to match.

Perhaps Aemond wasn’t so much of an outlier as you thought, and perhaps, as Rhaenyra was the first and eldest child of Viserys, the other Hightower/Targaryen children were more Hightower than Targaryen, bar their Valyrian features.

She was speaking politely to Alicent, and although you could see strain and tension between the two of them, it was clear that it was amicable, and perhaps there was now a standing of mutual respect between the two.

You remembered what Cregan had told you about Alicent trying to sue Rhaenyra for Lucerys’ and Aemond’s accident, but there was something more to the tension than just that.

Alicent’s gaze lingered far too long at Rhaenyra for it to be a step-mother and daughter interaction. You suspected there was another added layer to the family dynamics that you weren’t aware of.

Hearing your approach, Alicent broke her eye contact with the woman beside her and looked towards the two of you, a polite, loving smile thrown your way.

Daemon didn’t smile at you, but his gaze was more than polite. You suspected he didn’t do pleasantries as the two women did.

“You look beautiful girls.” Alicent beamed, standing to welcome you to the table with a show of hands.

It felt more like a business meeting rather than a family dinner.

Was this why Helaena shied away from these things?

You sat opposite Rhaenyra, and Helaena opposite her mum. Jacaerys and Lucerys were already at the table, as was Baela and Rhaena, Daeron and Aegon yet to arrive.

You smiled at your friends before settling your gaze on Rhaenyra, who was watching you with kind eyes.

“You must be Y/n.” Her voice as smooth as honey, “The boys have told me much about you.”

Heat rose in your cheeks, shyly peaking a glance as Luc and Jace raised their brows at you.

“All good things I hope.” You smiled back.

It was hard to contain your excitement. Hard to act normal and not like you were freaking out about sitting, and eating, and talking with someone you looked up to in the world of law.

“The good, the bad, and the ugly I’m afraid.” Daemon purred, lip twitching into a teasing smirk.

Oh gods.

You hoped you didn’t look as flustered as you felt.

Rhaenyra shook her head playfully, reaching to pick up her glass of red wine delicately with just two fingers at the bottom fo the stem.

How the hell did she do that?

Shuffling came from behind you and you turned to watch Daeron and Aegon arrive, Aegon fiddling with the buttons at his wrist.

“Sons.” Alicent greeted them.

“Mother.” Aegon responded, tone flat.

The tension was back.

Aegon sat beside you, giving you a small smile before he turned his line of sight to his half-sister who sat opposite him.

“Sister.”

“Aegon. It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

Aegon grabbed his wine glass and filled it almost to the brim, “Peachy with Viserys on the fritz.”

Your eyes bulged.

Oh shit.

“Aegon.” Alicent hissed, cheeks red with anger.

“What?” He replied back cooly, sipping the wine, “It’s why we are all together again. One big happy family.”

Aegon, it was clear to you now, had been drinking before he arrived to the table.

Daemon let out an amused giggle, and you had to bite the insides of your cheeks to not laugh awkwardly as a reaction.

“I suppose you’re right.” Rhaenrya spoke with resignation, her eyes flicking from Aegon, to Daeron, to Helaena, then back to Aegon, “You’ve grown.”

And as quick as a whip, Aegon replied back, “You haven’t.”

A smirk pulled at Rhaenyra’s lips, and you felt the tension begin to fizzle away, reaching for your own wine to sip at, because Gods know that you would need it.

“I suppose not. Are you well?”

“Well as I can be, all things considered.” The eldest son of Viserys replied.

The eldest child of Viserys nodded solemnly, sipping daintily at her wine, eyes over the rim of the glass as the servers began to place your entree's on the table.

You all ate quietly, Alicent filling the void with mindless chatter and questions or topics that she used to attempt to ease some of whatever tension was lingering. She asked the twins about their travels, and Daeron about his time in Old Town, despite already knowing about it. And it was then that you realised, that despite her ‘chattiness’ to everyone else at the table, she almost refused to acknowledge the two brown haired men who sat with the twins.

Alicent did not once, lay her eyes on Jacaerys and Lucerys, nor did she include them in conversation, and it was clear to all that she had done it, but what was clearer, was that everyone was aware and did nothing.

As though it was a regular occurrence.

The main course came, with salads and side dishes that filled the table, and new wines brought to match each dish, glasses being filled by the servers intermittently as they came in and out.

“So, Y/n.” Rhaenyra addressed you, “I heard that you are studying and working full-time? Surely that must be a difficult thing to manage?” She cut at the meat on her plate, a small slice, before bringing it to her lips to chew thrice and then swallowing.

You placed your cutlery down in a way you had watched Alicent do every time she spoke or was addressed.

“I am. I work at Alicent’s firm and go to KLU with Helaena.” You confirmed, feeling nervous to be speaking to her. You hoped you didn’t make a fool of yourself, “It can be a bit crazy when exams and due dates come around, but I like a challenge.” You let yourself huff a little laugh at the end, not wanting to admit that working and studying full-time was tearing at your sanity, and your wallet.

Daemon picked up a wine glass, leaning back comfortably in his chair as he watched you.

You fought to not squirm in your seat, suddenly feeling like you were being cross examined. This must be what it was like when people took the stand and had Daemon Targaryen drill them with questions.

He took a sip, then gave you a sweet smile. Daemon was a handsome man, low brow bone, strong jaw, and piercing eyes that didn’t once leave your face.

“What are you studying?” He asked, taking another sip.

You saw Alicent in your periphery look at you in interest.

Not once in all your years knowing her had she asked you that.

Nor did you even know if she knew.

“I’m a History Major,” You explained, shifting in your seat as you felt everyone looking at you, “But I chose Poetry as a minor for fun.”

“Poetry?” Rhaenyra’s brows lifted in intrigue, “My brother is a fan." How did she know that about Aemond? "And how did a History Major come to work in a law firm?”

“Oh, well.” You suddenly felt as though perhaps you shouldn’t have said anything, “I needed a job, bills to pay and all that, and I saw a secretary position at Red Keep Law. I applied, and to be honest, didn’t think I would get it. But, here I am.”

Alicent smiled at you before she turned to face Daemon and Rhaenyra, “She’s an excellent worker. Learns quickly, and from all accounts from Larys,” Daemon groaned, rolling his eyes at your boss’ name, “She makes a fine edition to the firm.”

Daemon sipped his wine once again, placing it on the table as he leant forward, hands resting atop the wooden surface, “And how is our dear Larys Strong? Following Alicent’s footsteps?”

Your lips pulled downwards as you tried to not laugh, feeling heat in your cheeks as you swiped up your wine to swallow, hoping it would sink the laugh along with it.

So it was not a secret then.

All knew about Larys’ foot inclinations, and his other inclination towards Alicent Hightower.

The auburn haired woman clearly didn’t like where this conversation was going, and jumped in, “Larys is a hardworking and loyal man. It hasn’t been easy since the death of Harwin and his father.” Her eyes narrowed cooly towards Rhaenyra, and you felt the whole table hold their breath, “Losing someone you love is never easy.”

Lucerys and Jacaerys exchanged glances, and you felt that there was more than one thing that was being left unsaid.

Rhaenyra however, did not show that she was affected by Alicent’s comment, and returned her attention back towards you with a warm and practised smile, “Do you have plans to study law after you finish your degree?”

You followed Rhaenyra’s lead to avoid the tension, “I definitely am thinking about it, but its a long degree, and it’s a little more time consuming than what I’m already doing. I worry it’ll affect my ability to work. But, perhaps in the future when I’m more settled.” You ended with a smile, and Daemon and Rhaenyra shared a look, both turning to grin at you.

The rest of the evening went quietly, conversation a little bit stunted after Daemon and Alicent’s silent war, their eyes constantly narrowing on each other. Clearly they did not get along, especially with the Hightower throwing some sort of shade towards Rhaenyra.

Was it shade about Larys? Or his brother, Harwin? Or some other lover or connection between the two women?

It was clear that Jacaerys and Lucerys looked nothing like a ‘traditional' Targaryen, what with their brown hair and even browner eyes, but you knew that Rhaenyra’s grandmother had brown hair. Jace and Luc had told you this once when you asked, much to Cregan’s dismay, why they looked nothing like their aunt. But genetics were tricky like that, unpredictable. You could remember learning about it once, punnet squares you think you recall from your high school biology class, and you were certainly not a biologist to argue or question it. Nor would you, in case there was another reason for it.

Perhaps Rhaenyra’s previous husband had strong brunette genes somewhere along the line.

Regardless, Daemon clearly loved the boys as his own, and Rhaenyra beamed at Baela and Rhaena whenever she could. Their relationships to their partners children from previous marriages was healthy, sweet, and to you, something that you wished Alicent somehow had with her own children.

Alicent loved her kids, there was no denying this, but her ability to show it to them was, at best, subpar. But everyone was different, and perhaps her father Otto, Helaena’s grandfather, was not the most warmest or affectionate of men.

Alicent and Rhaenyra were the same age, and the both were so very different. Alicent was stern and stiff, where Rhaenyra more warm and flexible. But both were staunchly protective of their own, and loved them in their own special way.

You saw a lot of Aemond in both Rhaenyra and Alicent. Alicent’s cool disposition, and Rhaenyra’s fiery passion. Not to mention, Aemond and Rhaenyra looked more similar than any of her other siblings.

Towards the end of the evening, the warm buzz of alcohol spreading through all, most of the table quietly chatting amongst themselves, Criston Cole came out to the garden, walking directly to Alicent where he whispered into her ear.

Alicent stiffened, and Rhaenyra, seeing the woman beside hers reaction became concerned, brows cinching together.

“Thank you, Cole.” Alicent spoke, voice even. She looked amongst the table, at her children, and then finally to Rhaenyra, “Viserys has asked for me.” She told his eldest child, and you watched as the silver haired woman visibly relaxed, nodding her head, though there was still a furrow in her brows.

It must be hard, watching your father become sicker and sicker, anticipating that each day would be his last. You had been told that Viserys’ bond to Rhaenyra was strong, and he clearly loved her dearly, especially with what you had been told about him calling her his only child in a moment of drug addled confusion.

But what happened next was something that you could not have imagined nor foreseen. For The Hightower woman was scarce to show affection to her own children, and when she did, most, to what you had witnessed, would shy away from it.

Alicent, in a rare moment of comfort, reached out and held Rhaenyra’s hand atop the table.

It seemed to shock almost everyone there, including Rhaenyra herself, who after a moment of confusion, grasped the woman’s hand back, placing another on top as she soothed the Hightower’s knuckles with a thumb.

“Thank you, Alicent.” Rhaenyra swallowed, her chest rose and fell, and then, “Shall I see to you after?”

Alicent’s large eyes blinked at the woman beside her as she searched Rhaenyra’s face for an answer, the whole table having stilled to watch the interaction, as though something unlikely was happening, like a miracle from the Gods was unfolding right before your very eyes.

Daemon was the only one who didn’t look hopeful at the interaction, instead, he looked rather bored.

All waited, and although it would have only been a few seconds of pause, it felt like an eternity.

Until finally, her response came.

Alicent breathed, “I would like that. Very much.”

Rhaenyra’s smile would be contagious, if only you didn’t feel like you shouldn’t be witnessing something that felt far more intimate than what it was.

There was history there, that much was sure to you now, between the two women, and something that you felt made more sense when Alicent’s eyes dropped, if only for half a second, to Rhaenyra’s lips.

Clearing her throat she stood, excusing herself with polite and poised words before she left in a hurry, flanked by Criston Cole who put a gentle hand at the small of her back, something else you had blinked at, leading her through the kitchen. Alicent’s hand lifted to her mouth as she chewed at the skin of her fingers.

Conversation took a while to come back amongst the table, all seeming to have sensed some sort of stale mate between the two women of the house. Some sort of unlikely treaty forming between them, and a breath, a long lasting one at that, sighed into the night air.

Jacaerys and Lucerys excused themselves for the night, pressing a sweet kiss to their mothers cheek, and the twins did the same, but to Daemon’s, who smiled lovingly up at his daughters, watching them all disappear into the house together.

Aegon leant towards you, wine on his tongue as he whispered, “You want to get blind?”

Helaena, hearing her brothers proposition, and certainly wanting a release after what had just happened, peeked around on the other side of your shoulder, “Please.”

You laughed, watching as Daemon lifted a gentle hand and placed it on the small bump of Rhaenyra’s pregnant stomach, something you hadn’t noticed until that moment as she had leant backwards, chair pushed away from the table. She smiled lovingly at him and put her hand over his.

Daeron stood, excusing himself, having said not much at all that evening, and left for his room, Aegon following after before casting a look back at you and Helaena, who stood and smiled at her half-sister sweetly.

Rhaenyra you noted, looked almost sad as she gazed at her younger and only sister, but bid her a goodnight, and asked if she would like to spend some time together, to catch up, or perhaps even join her and the boys back on Dragonstone; Rhaenyra and Daemon’s estate, older than the Red Keep.

Helaena had stood quietly for a moment, shifting on her feet, but then the signature warm smile spread on her rosy lips as she nodded, turning to you to flick her head back, indicating that you were leaving.

As you moved to leave, the deep and smooth voice of Daemon turned you around.

“Are you happy at Red Keep Law?”

“Happy?” You asked in confusion, furrowing your brows at the two silver haired people who watched you with curiosity.

Daemon’s brows lifted, waiting for you to answer.

“I like my job at RKL, yes. The hours are good, and it pays the bills.”

“Pays the bills.” Daemon parroted, and you wished you could kick yourself at your choice of words.

“I only mean that-“

“-No need to worry.” Daemon interrupted you, “My brothers firm is not what it used to be now that it’s ran by the Hightower’s.” His lips curled at the mention of Alicent, into what could have been said was a restrained sneer.

And although you felt the need to defend them, you had to agree. It was not what it used to be, but it wasn’t a bad change either. Sure business was slower, and their clientele had certainly changed to people who were more modest, but it was still regarded as one of the best firms.

It was just… different.

“Daemon.” Rhaenyra came to Alicent’s defence, low warning in her voice.

And there it was, the strong, ‘Cruel Queen’ of Law.

You had not once seen this side of Rhaenyra through the night, and had only ever heard of her ability to cut down others in court without even truly trying.

Rhaenyra Targaryen set defence teams on fire without even breaking a sweat, and had crumbled firms to ashes under her Louboutin heel.

The couple looked at each other, soft silver hair glimmering in the candle light, and you looked at Helaena, uncertain as to what was happening.

But Helaena looked at you in the way that she usually did, as if she already knew what was coming. You had joked with her many times that she was a witch, and she had always just said she had a strong intuition and followed her gut.

And then, three pairs of violet eyes were suddenly on you.

Had Helaena told them about Aemond?

You suddenly felt very guilty and unsure.

“From what we have been told, you’re a hard worker.” Daemon began, “Something we value at ‘Perzys Ānogār Legal’.”

You stood straighter, and watched as Rhaenyra smiled at you reassuringly, “Your talents are being wasted at RKL.” Her eyes flicked to her husbands, then back to yours, “We want to offer you a job at our firm.”

A job.

At their firm.

At Perzys Ānogār Legal.

Blood and Fire.

The best of the best firms in the realm.

Rival of Red Keep Law.

Your mouth opened and then shut, unsure of what to do. You looked at Helaena, who looked at you with excitement, smile growing wider and wider each second, her pearly white teeth shining at you.

You swallowed dryly, “I- I’m honoured.” Rhaenyra beamed, “But I’m not a lawyer, I don’t even have a law degree. I’m not even studying law.”

Daemon nodded, “You work at RKL and there seems to be no issue. But you’re thinking about it. Are you not?”

You had, in fact, thought about it.

But your time at RKL and studying made it impossible to think of a future where you could juggle law, a far more intensive degree than history, as well as a 9-5.

“I don’t think I could. I have bills to pay, and the study load would be too much-“

“-Not if you work for us.” Daemon interrupted you again, “You would be in the same position, secretary work, keeping our staff organised and tidy. And in the mean time, we would teach you. You would of course, have to begin a law degree to eventually practice and all that,” His large hand waved around as if it wasn’t a big deal, “But as it turns out, we have a position open, and from what our boys have told us, you would be an incredible edition to our team.”

Your mouth gaped as you looked at them both.

Holy shit.

This was-

It was-

You couldn’t even think, and Rhaenyra noticed.

“You don’t have to give us an answer straight away, but I will have Jacaerys give you our number. When you accept,” It wasn’t if, it was when you chose them, “You can let us know and we can begin onboarding you.”

“I-“ You stumbled over your words, tongue feeling like led in your mouth, “I don’t know what to say. I- Thank you. Truly. I have a lot to think about.”

“Of course.” Rhaenyra gave you a motherly smile, and Daemon simply observed you with patient, kind eyes, “I’ll let you girls get back to the others. Think about our offer. We will pay you better, train you up, and if you want to study, we can even discuss potential payment for your learnings.”

Payment-

Your head began to spin.

Daemon laughed, not meanly, but in amusement, “You’ve short circuited her brain, my love.”

Rhaenyra swatted her husband, “Sorry. You can see how competitive we are, I suppose. I shall leave that with you to deliberate. We look forward to hearing your answer soon.”

You felt Helaena’s arm wrap around yours as she pulled you back and away, “Night 'Nyra.” She called to her sister, who said goodnight back.

Your mind raced a million miles an hour.

“Holy fuck.” You whispered, Helaena steering you through the kitchen and up the stairs to her room, “Hel, what the fuck? What the fuck!”

Helaena simply giggled at you.

“What do I do? I- Thats- Rhaenyra Targaryen just offered me a job. I- I couldn’t possibly-“

“-Why not?”

Helaena pushed open her door and watched you race inside, pacing in front of the bed, “I couldn’t do that to your mother. I mean- Hel- Clearly there’s something that they- I mean- Oh my gods, I’m not even making sense. I just- What the hell?”

The silver haired woman flopped backwards onto her bed, staring up at the curtained canopy, “It's a good offer. I would take it if I were you. People would kill for that position.”

You flopped down beside her, “But Hel, it would be like betraying your mum.”

She turned on her side to face you, “No it wouldn’t. Besides, you wouldn’t have to work under Larys anymore.”

Sighing, you closed your eyes, “You’re right. But Gods, Hel. Me? A lawyer? I never would have thought that I would even have that kind of opportunity.”

“See?” Helaena nudged your shoulder, “You have to take it. Better pay, more options, plus, though me and Rhaenyra aren’t close, she’s a good person. When she takes someone under her wing, you best believe she will have your back forever. Even when you don’t deserve it.”

You frowned at the last part, but tilted your head back to stare at the canopy.

Rhaenyra was right.

You had a lot to think about.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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sundrop-writes · 6 months

Text

if Draco walked in on you changing...

Word Count: 1360

Harry Potter Masterlist

Warnings: I have no clue when this could fit onto the general Harry Potter timeline (and tbh I don't think it does); this features the 'arranged marriage' trope; the reader is a rich pureblood (but there is no indication that the reader looks down on muggleborns the way that the Malfoys do); there is no mention of which pureblood family the reader is from, so there is no indication of her race; the reader is mentioned to be afab/has breasts and wears dresses; mentions of house elves/use of house elf labor; Draco is very cocky and entitled in this; there is some dubious consent because Draco looks at the reader while she is undressed without her consent, but she doesn't fully care; Draco calls the reader 'darling' and 'love'; the reader's parents are discussing the arranged marriage with the Malfoys without her consent; passing mention of the reader and Draco having kids together; the reader is definitely attracted to Draco and denying it. I believe that's everything.

A/N: Can you tell that I'm obsessed with the arranged marriage trope when it comes to Draco?? Yes? No? (Well you're gonna be able to tell that even more if he wins the other poll - which he probably will, and that oneshot about him is the one that I post.) I just love the idea that because he's not the best person, the reader would be forced to be in proximity to him, and she would bring out his more likeable side over time. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! Eventually, I want to do this trope/reaction with all the characters that I mainly write for. (And maybe more, like Neville and Ginny.)

...

The past week of your life has been nothing but a hectic chaos, and you were simply trying your hardest to get through it.

Your parents had travelled such a long way to ‘catch up’ with their old school friends, the Malfoys, some fellow purebloods that they hadn’t seen since graduating Hogwarts when they were all teenagers. This meant you had been a ‘guest’ at Malfoy Manor for the past week - seven straight days filled with nothing but fake smiling, bragging about your accomplishments, in detail (for your parents’ sake), being shown off like you were some trophy out of their case. You hated it.

You didn’t think you could handle sitting through one more evening dinner or afternoon tea, hearing them all wax poetic about the ‘good ole days’ while their insufferable son stared at you from across the room. But, as you kept telling yourself, you could go home soon. You could soon go back to your regular life, your own house with walls that weren’t decorated in depressing dark shades - a place with a sprawling rose garden that you missed so dearly.

Tonight, you just had to get through dinner.

And then, you could fake some kind of illness and be left alone in the large, comfortable (if entirely dark and dreary) guest room that they had put you up in for your stay.

Currently, you were racing around that room, wearing nothing but your black stockings and heels, and your jewellery, looking for your perfume bottle to spray some on your neck and chest before you put on your dress and attempted to go through the hassle of zipping it up on your own. You knew that the Malfoys had house elves that you could call upon, but you were really only comfortable with your own elf, Peplum, being the one to dress you. And she was back home because your mother and father didn’t allow her to travel.

You finally found the perfume bottle and sprayed a few good pumps of it over your neck and breasts, and put one on your inner wrist for good measure. Then you took a moment to bask in the scent because you found it so enjoyable - a nice moment of calming peace from the annoyance and mental strain you had been put through during the past week.

When you heard the door creak on its hinges, you thought you had been mistaken.

“My goodness, what do we have here?”

The sound of someone speaking caused you to jolt, practically jumping out of your skin, and you rushed to cover yourself - the only available covering being your own arms. You turned your back to the door, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep your chest covered, knowing that you looked entirely foolish wearing black tights that went up to your waist, black underwear, and heels - with nothing else.

Naturally, Draco thought that you looked like a sex dream come to life.

He could think of nothing sexier than a woman wearing black stockings. So naturally, seeing you topless while wearing those - it caused a stir in his pants that he had to concentrate on for it not to turn into a troubling hardon. He did wish that you weren’t wearing the underwear, though.

“Don’t cover up on my account.” Draco smirked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pantsuit (partially as a measure to hide any stirring of his cock). And then he simply continued to stand there, not taking his eyes off the round curve of your ass for even a moment.

When he spoke again, it was only then that you knew who was there, and any shock pulsing through you at the fact of someone just waltzing in faded away in favour of pure annoyance grinding against your nerves.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You barked, glaring over your shoulder at him. “Knocking was invented for a reason!”

Draco always found your anger attractive. He found that he liked you angry and topless even better.

“It’s my house. I don’t have to knock.” He shrugged, sounding as entitled as ever.

You sighed so hard at this it practically came out as a growl under your breath. Even if you liked the heat in his eyes as he looked you over, even if you found him to be somewhat attractive - that pattern of entitlement made him impossible to put up with.

You had grown up pureblood, and definitely wealthy, but you absolutely had more humility than someone like him.

“That is so not true!” You screeched back, entirely insulted by this notion. “Knocking is a basic courtesy that your parents should have taught you!”

“Whatever.” Draco sighed, seeming entirely unconcerned with the social faux pas of walking in on you partially dressed - he didn’t rush to apologise or even bother to look away. “When we’re married, it won’t matter. I’ll get to look at my wife as much as I want,”

He said these words with a filthy greed grinding against the back of his throat, the expression on his face disgustingly satisfied. He raked his eyes across your body once again, drinking in every bit of you like he was truly entitled to you.

You turned around then, your neck aching from craning to look at him. You still had an arm covering your breasts, but his eyes definitely stuck to the puff of your cleavage that was leaking out around it. You would have yelled at him, called him a pig for staring so hard - but cared less and less about his staring as you got caught up on his words.

“‘When we’re married’?” You echoed back, the words entirely strained on your voice. “Are you okay? Have you been snorting the Floo Powder or are you usually this out of touch?”

Draco chuckled then, and titled his head slightly as he looked at you - it was distinctly condescending, like how someone might look down at a small child. Like he thought you were the one who was truly out of touch.

“Darling, are you really that daft?” He asked slowly. “Do you really not know what this trip is for?”

“What?” You croaked.

Now, you were truly confused.

“Our parents didn’t just feel like ‘catching up’ out of the blue. They’re trying to come to some sort of agreement. They’re match-making us. You know - bonding two powerful pureblood families.” He explained.

“Oh… oh god.” You sighed. It all made perfect sense. The ‘hush hush’ lunches that you weren’t allowed to sit in on, the insistence from your mother that you ‘bond’ with Draco, her questions about if you wanted to have children or not when you thought that was distant years in your future. “I am gonna kill them!”

You moved to storm out of the room, wanting to give your parents a stern talking to for not warning you about this. But -

“You’re still naked, love.” Draco chuckled.

You felt a flush of heat run through you - you wanted to say that it was from embarrassment, and not the wonderfully teasing nickname, and his cutesy tone. But you had other things to focus on than your non-attraction to Draco Malfoy.

“Ugh.” You turned back around sharply and grabbed your dress off the bed, and after you stepped into it and aggressively pulled the straps up over your shoulders, you struggled to reach behind you and even begin to pull the zipper closed.

You froze instantly when you felt Draco’s cool fingers brush against the skin of your lower back as he grabbed onto the zipper and then nimbly did it up for you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and you told yourself that the shivers down your spine were from his cool touch, and not because of any underlying (very annoyed) attraction toward him.

“Might not be so bad.” Draco breathed against your neck, causing more goosebumps to form on your skin. “Being married to you.”

You felt an argument bubbling under the surface - but you saved that energy for the ensuing fight you were bound to have with your parents. Instead, you simply scoffed and rolled your eyes in response.

#sundrop writes #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction

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mikasasrippedtoenail · 5 days

Text

Why Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

Women and their jewellery have a very intricate relationship. The tale of the nagging wife troubling her husband for new jewellery is as old as time. It is a reflection on a woman's vanity. Folk tales mock her ignorance of worldly ways and her frivolous obsession with being adorned. She is redundant to a mere crow that admires shiny things. However, this begs the question, is a woman's desire to collect jewellery as absurd as men paint it to be?

The world has forgotten that until very recently, women were forbidden from owning any form of capital. Be it property, money or even small inanimate objects, they belonged first to her father then her husband. The roof above her could be taken away on a whim with a clock's tick. In these trying times, jewellery emerged as a beacon of financial security for most women of the globe.

Mother of pearls, diamond earrings, gold necklaces etc. were-- although not in print-- under a woman's reign of control. They had an impressive resale value and could last several generations under proper care. More so, they could be secretly sold usually without paperwork to acquire a woman some monetary freedom. If her husband gambled all their assets away, atleast she'll have enough money to put some food on the table for her children.

Jewellery has often times saved people from calamities. Unlike land, jewellery is easier to sell. In case of an emergency, a large sum of money could be obtained without much trouble. Jewellery are an excellent heirloom. The wisdom of grandmothers is passed down to granddaughters to come, allowing them some command over their own life.

Jewellery is a form of investment just like land and shares. Its value is diminished solely due to its association with women. It is not a woman's vice but a survival tactic against the suffocating patriarchy. Jewellery is something she can have under her own name--no matter how small or how futile-- it is her sole capital, her best friend.

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cod-z · 2 months

Text

Wanted to write angst, get some of my inner thoughts out because I like to mentally abuse myself. The thought of dog tags… just hurts me

TW: Angst/No comfort

| One-shots |

Reblog & Likes are appreciated🥀

2 months ago you had said your ‘goodbyes’ to your beloved, holding one another in a long lasting embrace and giving bittersweet kisses for their safe return, your heart aching as you watch them enter the car and leave off into the distance, into the unknown as you hope that somewhere, beyond the of the human’s eyes and soul - someone is watching out for your solider.

You wait patiently for the arrival of your love, making them breakfast even when they aren’t there, putting their favourite movie and cuddling into their clothes as you imagine that they were there with you throughout the months that passed by - wondering what they were doing, if they were safe, if they were at least getting a decent amount of rest and food.

You knew of their job.

Going on missions, going off raider, no-contact for months on end, rarely contacting when they had a chance but not for long.

You agreed to this when you had decided that you’ll love them forever, be with them as your heart could give, watching the hours tick by and hoping they’ll return to you to hopefully create more memories before they go off into the fields again and disappear to who knows where. Letting that ache of your heart return.

—

Standing in front of him, your eyes lingering into his harden and stern gaze, making your heart flurry immensely against your chest, the way you lose your breath as you first met him in that hallway - barracks at the side and the office doors on the other.

Both of you lingered before parting ways as if nothing had happened in that fleeting moment that you spent staring at one another.

Yet you meet again.

Your eyes on him and his on yours, the briefing had yet to start and here you two were in your own worlds, heart in sync, close and yet so far. Neither of you daring to talk one another and remain as co-workers.

Both wanting more than that.

—

A knock interrupting your memories as how you two once were in the past, smiling softly at the awkwardness that had occurred between the two of you, wiping away the water from your hands on the hand towel that was wrapped around the oven handle, you walked towards the door - waiting for it to be him.

Your eyes widen slightly at his squad mate, before your smile returns, slightly confused why he was there but you felt it.

You felt that sudden change in the air.

You shrug it off and await to see what the man had to say before you second-guess anything.

However…

The feeling of metal collided with your palm that you didn’t even know you held out, deaf to the words he had said before taking out the metal jewellery, your heart clenched as your head felt light, your breath shaking and trembling as you slowly lower your eyes down to the palm of your hands. The metal necklace swirled directly into the centre where two tags sat perfectly.

Your breath hitched. Your throat closed. Your vision blurring.

“He’s gone…”

Those two words had meant nothing compared to the evidence in your hands.

The dog-tags sat perfectly in your grasp and you hate it that it did, your heart felt like someone had stabbed it over and over again, your lungs felt like a snake had constricted itself around it, your body slowly starts to register the news that was brought to you - he was gone.

His friend, his squad-mate, reaches to place a hand on your shoulder as he grieves with you with the loss.

You felt yourself slip away.

Your body sliding down onto your knees as your hand left the doorframe to wrap around your hand that clenched tightly to the dog-tags that were his, holding it close to your shattered heart, your eyes staring at pavement as if it knew all along what happened to your lover.

You watch as the ground turns to a dark grey from the tears that you didn’t know that were forming in your eyes, it hurts so much, he was gone.

You hiccup as more tears fall onto the ground.

Before letting out a cry in anguish to your fallen soldier, your love, your life, your soul.

The other party only looks at you with a solemn expression as well his own grievance to the situation, he stands at the door with you as your curl onto the ground with the dog-tags that belonged to his friend, his brother-in-arms - silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he uses his helmet to cover it.

—

“I think… I hate your dog-tags,” you glared at the metal around his neck.

“Why?” chuckling at your random statement.

“I’m scared the moment you take it off, you’re gone…”

A/N: Personally, I’m not sorry-

Divider Credit(s): @saradika

#cod-z #141 x reader #call of duty fanfiction #task force 141 x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #modern warfare x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #angst #hurt/no comfort

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flowerandblood · 7 months

Text

The Pearl and the Sapphire (7) Completed

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, sexual tension, trauma, obsession ]

[description: As a representative of a large family-owned gemstone business, Aemond is attending a major jewellery event where jewellery makers from all over the world are exhibiting. One of them is the Baratheon family. Aemond is tasked with focusing on attracting new customers, but his attention is diverted by the youngest daughter of the eminent maker Borros Baratheon. Slow burn, bitchy, possessive and obsessive Aemond, lots of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request + my sweet @valeskafics)]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in modern times. The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Series moodboard: Aemond & Miss Baratheon

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Aemond wasn't sure he had ever experienced anything like this before. When she kissed him, when he saw her naked body, when she sank his length inside her he felt like he was going to die of arousal.

He didn't recognise his own sounds or his body, which was quivering all over seeking only fulfilment in her hot interior, the skin of the hollow of her neck where he cuddled his face smelled of her sweet, flowery perfume that made his head spin.

Ordinary sex with Alys made no sense to him, for he felt nothing during it and found it difficult to achieve fulfilment. He only succeeded in the beginning when they fucked in secret in his office and were afraid someone would catch them. The excitement made it enjoyable and intense for him, but as soon as they moved on he lost interest in it.

Still, like any man, he needed the sexual relaxation that she was able to provide.

But now, being with her, he was horrified by how unexpectedly his body reacted to her touch, her mouth, her insides, the sight of her body. He felt like he was going into a frenzy, like he was melting into one with her, the movements of his hips greedy and desperate, as if he wanted to take her for himself as quickly as possible.

He felt her clench on him, heard her sweet sounds and fell into an ecstasy through which he was barely able to slide out of her before he came.

When she allowed him to stay with her he turned off the light and undressed, joining her in bed, his mouth exploring every inch of her soft, warm skin. He took his time, enveloping her breasts with his hot breath, licking and sucking her nipples, making her whole body quiver beneath him, her hands clenched in his hair holding him close.

"− please −" She mumbled softly, and he hummed only at her request, his free hand running over her thigh, his mouth releasing her nipple with a quiet plop, massaging her breast with slow, sure strokes.

"− I'll taste every millimetre of your skin before I put him inside you again − will you be patient for me, my little one? −" He cooed, turning her gently onto her stomach, placing a wet, warm kiss on her shoulder. "− will you let me enjoy yourself? −"

She swallowed loudly and nodded, and he purred with satisfaction at her expression. His lips roamed over her sweaty, firm skin leaving wet marks on her neck, her back, her buttocks, her thighs. He felt her shiver at his gentle touch, quiet, gentle murmurs escaping from her lips.

It felt like an eternity had passed before he grasped her buttocks in his hands and lifted them, spreading her hips in front of him, looking in awe at how wet she was. He slid in and out of her slowly, her hands clenched on the sheet, her cheek hugged to the pillow. She was breathing loudly through her mouth, her eyes closed, her dark hair in disarray.

"− so pretty −" He murmured softly looking down at her with some kind of bliss, his hard manhood disappearing inside her only to emerge again with a loud, licentious click of her wetness. He slid one of his hands between her thighs, his palms spreading her moisture over her clit and began to massage her with calm, sure movements.

A quiet moan of surprise escaped her lips, her whole body trembled, her walls clenched against him involuntarily. They both began to pant as the movements of his hips became more intense and violent, the loud splat of flesh against flesh spreading through their room.

"− I would like so much to fill you, little one − to cum inside you and watch my semen flow out of you −" He exhaled licking his lips, involuntarily imagining the sight, his whitish transparent cum running down her thighs.

"− please −" She mumbled, though they both knew they couldn't do it. He groaned lowly as he felt her begin to clench on him, his hips again and again stretching her fleshy insides with his cock, his movements deeper and more brutal.

"− I think we will need to meet again so I can finally fill that beautiful little pussy − don't you think? −" He hissed and she trembled all over, her body coming out to meet each thrust, their bodies colliding louder and louder, the bed beneath them began to creak.

"− yes − god, yes −" She mumbled out and shuddered, her mouth parted wide as a strong, lingering orgasm shook her body, pathetic, sweet moans of fulfilment erupting from her throat, her eyes clenched almost in pain.

He fucked her through her orgasm, with the remnants of a strong will restraining himself from cumming inside her, and slid out of her quickly coming on the sheets beneath him, massaging himself intensely, panting hard.

"− fuck − fuck −"

When it was all over he laid down beside her, breathing loudly. They looked at each other for a moment with misty eyes, his hand involuntarily rising to brush her hair away from her face. She smiled at the gesture and moved closer to him, nuzzling her cheek against his sweaty chest.

He hummed at the gesture and embraced her, feeling as if it were completely natural, her hands entwined around his back like vines, her legs slipping between his. He felt her skin, her warm, quivering flesh all over him.

He felt at peace.

They both fell asleep like this, tired after what had happened to them that day. She woke him in the middle of the night asking if she could put on his Tshirt because she was freezing naked, and he handed it to her without a word, rubbing his eyes, sleepy.

He couldn't hide the satisfaction that was painted on his face as he watched her put on his shirt, thinking about her falling asleep in his clothes.

It seemed to him a very intimate and private sight.

He felt embarrassed when she laid down next to him again and they kissed on the lips as if it was the most normal thing in their lives, as if they had done it every day for years. He embraced her from behind, to which her murmur of contentment answered him, her hands tightening on his arms, settling comfortably.

He fell asleep with his face snuggled against her neck sinking into her hair in a deep, peaceful slumber. Even as they twisted or changed positions they made sure they touched each other, that they were close, that they felt each other's presence. He purred as she turned towards him again, laying comfortably facing him and he felt her press her lips against his for a moment.

He woke up cuddled against her breasts hidden under the material of his t-shirt, feeling her fingers gently comb through his hair. He knew he should get up, that he should leave, but he was unable to move.

It felt too good for him.

Pleasant shivers ran through him with every movement of her hand, he felt relaxed and rested. Her closeness didn't seem forced or uncomfortable to him, he had the feeling that they were both able to give each other something they needed and he felt good with that thought.

He tried not to think about the fact that tomorrow was the end of the EXPO, that tomorrow he and she would return to their cities, to their homes. He swallowed loudly at the thought that he might still be able to see her if their father agreed to sign a contract with them, but he didn't want to broach the subject.

He was afraid she would think he had done all this just to get a new client.

They both shuddered when the alarm ringing on his phone sounded in her room. He sighed heavily and picked himself up, reaching into his trousers on the floor, taking out his mobile phone. He pressed his lips together seeing several text messages from an unknown number.

He got out the app and saw that, in addition to the number, he had several missed calls from his grandfather and several text messages.

He stared at the screen with a blank gaze feeling he had stopped breathing for a moment, a deep black void in his mind.

His father was dead.

He laughed out loud and covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head, he heard her concerned, surprised voice behind him.

"Something happened?" She asked uncertainly, clearly frightened by his condition and his reaction.

"My father is dead." He said standing up, quickly dressing his boxers and trousers. He heard her swallow loudly, pulling off his T-shirt, covering herself with the duvet and handing it to him with a trembling hand, disbelief and horror in her eyes.

They looked at each other but said nothing. He saw her scowl, her lower lip trembling slightly.

"Forgive me."

He pressed his lips together at her words. At her guilt, at the thought of it being her fault. That if she hadn't invited him he would have held his ailing father's hand at night and stood by him in his final moments.

He knew that wouldn't have been the case, but he was still shaken, his heart pounding like mad.

"He had been dying for six months, and he hadn't recognised me for a year." He said indifferently as if that would explain anything, putting on his Tshirt quickly, heading for the exit, putting on his leather jacket.

He felt that she was looking at him, he felt that she was terrified, he felt that she needed comfort too, the knowledge that she was not to blame, that he felt good with her, that he needed it as much as she did.

He was unable to say anything. He dressed his shoes quickly, opened the door and walked out, leaving her alone.

He didn't remember much about the drive home except his grandfather's words about how irresponsible and childish he was. His grandfather drove fast across the highway without even looking at him.

"I hope she was worth it." He growled, and his lips tightened at his words in rage.

"She was. She was fucking worth it and don't you dare talk about her again." He said throwing him a threatening look, his grandfather snorted at his words.

"Don't think I'm going to support you in a board vote. You'll never grow up."

When they arrived the whole family was already there, including his half-sister. Rhaenyra cried silently as she looked at her father's dry, wrinkled face lying on the snow-white hospital bed. His mother came up to him as soon as they entered and embraced him tightly.

"He died in his sleep. He didn't suffer. I called you last night, where have you been?" She asked and he answered nothing.

He felt an emptiness.

There were a lot of things going on around him, journalists standing at every turn, a funeral, family trying to talk to him, but he had the feeling that he was deaf and blind.

He left her.

He left without saying a word.

He didn't even tell her not to worry.

He wasn't surprised that he hadn't heard from her since then even though he had hoped otherwise.

Browsing her Instagram account every evening had become his addiction, as had reminiscing about their last night in the hotel, the sense of peace he'd experienced, for which it was now so foreign to him. His heart pounded hard every time she put up a new post, he felt by watching her like this that he was still part of her life.

He shuddered when one day he saw that she had written to him. He was afraid to see what it was, afraid to see the wall of text, the outpouring of pain and humiliation she had suffered because of him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to take any more and for two hours he didn't even display her message.

In the evening, however, he broke down, the thought of the board vote terrifying him and making him unable to fall asleep despite taking several sleeping pills. He noticed that he had to take larger and larger doses to get at least four hours of slumber. With a shaking hand, he clicked on the Instagram icon and went into private messages.

He felt a tightness in his throat, his lips curved in a grimace of pain, his healthy eye glazed over from the tears that had been squeezing inside him for weeks. He thought he didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her understanding. He didn't know what to reply, nothing seemed right, enough.

He didn't write back.

The next day he came to the board meeting as if to be beheaded. The realisation that what he was doing for his family and for the company didn't matter when all that counted was business. For the last years of his life he was at his grandfather's every beck and call as Aegon fiddled only to hear that his grandfather had offered Helaena as his father's replacement.

The rest of the company were unconvinced by the idea, considering Helaena too inexperienced. His worst nightmare came true and his father's place was taken by Rhaenyra, now having the most important say in all matters concerning the company. He had no illusions that he, his grandfather, his mother and his siblings would be pushed back.

He had nothing.

He had achieved nothing.

He had gained nothing.

What was it all for?

He wondered about this as he sat late at night on the balcony of his flat, smoking a cigarette in silence, without even turning on the light. For the first time in years he felt the tension had left him, the cause was lost. It had been done.

What now?

Journalists from the local small newspapers were chatting like rats outside his high-rise building, surely wanting to write articles full of pity about his defeat. He knew that Alys had spoken out on his case once in a while on the internet.

Thank goodness his lawyers had their hand on the pulse and stopped an interview from surfacing in which she mentioned his affair during the EXPO and never made it into the paper.

He would not let any harm befall her.

He swallowed hard at the mention of her, feeling pain and shame at the thought of not writing her back, not replying. He felt small and empty, like a hollowed-out fruit skin that was thrown in the dumpster, not knowing what to do with it.

Maybe it was better this way.

He was too broken, too empty to give her anything good.

She didn't deserve to be his nanny, to try to lift him off his knees.

He pressed his lips together at the thought that he missed her. That he had never felt as safe and peaceful as he had in her embrace, that time in the morning when she stroked his hair.

He took out his phone and dialled her number quickly, placing it next to him on the table, switching on speakerphone mode, lighting a second cigarette with his lighter.

Just once, he thought.

Beep.

He heard a sudden silence and froze, something like the quiet rustling of the bedclothes on the other side.

"… Aemond?" He heard her sleepy, uncertain voice. He felt his throat tighten at the sound of her, soft and warm, his heart began to pound like mad. With a trembling hand, he pressed the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply.

He did not answer. For a moment he heard no sound on the other end, but he knew she hadn't hung up.

She knew it was him.

"If you want, I'll just stay on and be with you in silence. You don't have to say anything." He heard her quiet voice, full of an understanding he didn't deserve and he pressed his lips together, his eyebrows arching in pain.

He swallowed loudly feeling tears running down his face and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, inhaling again, his fingers twitching like crazy.

He swallowed hard, as if he was suffocating, crushed by everything that had happened, the past and the future, the fact that he had no idea who he was or why. Everything he had done so far in his life seemed pointless, and his only consolation was a girl he had met completely by accident.

He wanted to tell her that he had wasted years of his life, that he had achieved nothing, that all he had was his money, his flat and his dog, that his affair with Alys had been the biggest mistake of his life, that he should have stayed at university and read books about history, that he should have written to her immediately after his father's funeral.

He couldn't get anything out of himself, everything he felt was running down his cheeks.

Her silence and at the same time her presence on the other side of the phone had a soothing, calming effect on him. The realisation that he didn't have to say anything, that he could just sit there knowing that she was next to him, that she could hear his breathing.

That despite what he'd done to her, she hadn't forgotten him and still thought he was worth her attention, her devotion.

He stared blankly ahead, contemplating everything that had happened to him in his life, the cigarette burning slowly in his hand. He had the feeling that something had ended in his life and he didn't know what to do with himself.

What to do next.

He rose slowly and took the phone in his hand, opening the door from the balcony, stepping back into his flat. Vhagar lifted her head, drowsy, and sneezed loudly, twisting on her pillow, returning to her interrupted sleep.

He moved ahead, placing his phone on his pillow, pulled off his shoes and lay down on the bed next to him. He heard her swallow quietly, that she was still there, that she wasn't asleep either.

"Don't hang up." He whispered quietly, almost silently in a weak, hoarse voice, his throat compressed and dry. He heard her draw in air loudly.

"I won't. Try to sleep." She said softly, and he closed his eyes.

He woke up in the morning hearing a strange noise, as if someone had just rearranged a cup or dishes. He looked around sleepily, rubbing his eyes, and it took him a moment to realise that the sounds were coming from his phone. He clicked on the display and saw that their call had been uninterrupted for five hours and twenty-one minutes.

"Can I visit you?" He asked indifferently, looking ahead with empty gaze. He heard a commotion on the other end and a sound, as if someone had picked up the phone.

"Good morning! Can you repeat that? I just brought myself breakfast and didn't hear." She said lightly, he imagined her contented, happy face. He swallowed quietly, his heart pounding like mad.

"Can I visit you in your house?"

The journey to the village where she lived took him two and a half hours. In the meantime, he got lost, because they lived in a suburban town where his navigation went crazy and led him along roads that didn't exist. He had to call her and only then did he find out that he had missed the right turn-off each time, which turned out to be a dirt country road.

Their light brick family home was two-storey and large, looking like a small ivy-covered country manor house with a small garden. He felt a tightening in his stomach when he saw her run out to meet him, cheerful and excited, her light-coloured dress with buff sleeves and her braid matching the place around her.

He turned off the engine and got out of the car, heading for the back door. He opened it, and after a moment Vhagar jumped out from inside, wagging her tail, curious and scared, smelling new and exciting scents.

He whistled at her and she immediately moved to follow him, even though she usually felt unsure in new places, he could see that she had shared his optimism.

When he approached her they hugged awkwardly, but he felt relieved to hold her in his arms again, to smell her, to be close to her.

"You can bring your suitcase in later. I'll show you your room." She said calmly and nodded for him to go inside.

He wasn't sure what Borros Baratheon's face said at the sight of him, however, whatever his daughter had told him worked. He was surprised when Vhagar ran straight up to him and started sniffing him, nor did she start barking when his daughter reached out to her and sniffed her uncertainly.

He thought it was a good home with good people.

Borros reached out to him and he shook his hand.

"My daughter told me that you are her friend, and for my daughter's friends there will always be a place in our house. I have heard of the recent events that have befallen you and I hope you will rest a little here, son." He said as he patted him on the shoulder and he nodded. His daughter smiled at him and gestured for him to go upstairs with her.

Their house was cosy, full of plants, old ornaments, painted plates, family photos and paintings. It was the complete opposite of his family home, cool, empty, painfully modern.

Without a soul.

She led him up to the top floor to the attic and opened the door for him. He entered a room that was full of flowers and plants, a desk, chairs, a bed, a bookcase and a chest of drawers, the part of the ceiling that was the roof went diagonally across the room, as did the windows.

"At night you can see the stars through these windows because there are few houses around us and no artificial city lighting." She said softly and he looked at her, swallowing hard, trying not to think about the fact that he was alone with her, that he had been thinking about her for a month, that since he had spent the night with her he had not slept with another woman.

He didn't want another woman.

He nodded, seeing that his silence embarrassed her, Vhagar sniffing everything carefully, curious, her tail high up, waving right and left with satisfaction.

"What's her name? Your dog." She asked, crouching in front of her, extending her hand to her. Vhagar approached her uncertainly, sniffed her fingers, licked them lightly and moved on to explore his room.

He thought Vhagar rarely approached strangers of her own accord.

"Vhagar." He said quietly and she looked up at him with a smile.

"My room is right next door if you need anything." She said softly, turning towards the exit, and he involuntarily moved behind her. "Make yourself comfortable and…"

"…I need you." He said helplessly, heartbroken by his pathetic behaviour, what he had been thinking about, what he had wanted after leaving her shamelessly in the hotel that day. He pressed his face to her neck, placing his hands hesitantly on her shoulders and felt a strong shiver pass through her. "Please."

It seemed to him that literally seconds passed between what he said and when he lay between her naked thighs unzipping his zipper, panting quietly along with her, trying not to make any noise.

He leaned over her and kissed her, taking his member in his hand, directing it to her moist, hot entrance.

She moaned into his mouth as he entered her in one, sure movement, their lips sucking together with a wet click as his hips began to move inside her.

As much as he wanted to he couldn't stop himself, he'd waited too long for this, he'd missed her too much, he'd wanted this too much. Her hands weaved into his hair and drew him close, their lips sucked together again, her legs entwined around his waist.

"− please − tell me you're taking pills −" He breathed out between one messy, pawing kiss and another, and she moaned loudly into his mouth and nodded quickly.

He sighed with satisfaction and began to slide into her with all his strength, stretching her throbbing hot insides again and again.

"− Aemond −" She mewled underneath him sweetly, pleadingly, and he leaned down and closed her mouth with his, trying to silence the moans that were erupting from her throat.

"− shhh − please − hush, my little one − fuck −" He growled tightening his hands on her hips, fucking her brutally and quickly, animalically, panting along with her, trying with all his might to be quiet, the pleasure and heat he felt in his lower abdomen was unbearable.

"− please − please −" He mumbled and she stroked his cheek, moving her hips in rhythm with his thrusts, her fleshy insides pulsing against him making him feel like he couldn't take it any more.

"− it's okay − just cum in me −" She whispered softly and he pressed his lips together and stifled a low, throaty moan when he finally let go, his member pulsing hard, his warm semen spilling over her insides.

"− I'm sorry − I'm so sorry −" He whispered trembling all over, stunned with pleasure and helplessness, her small hands trying to embrace him all over, to soothe him.

"− it's okay −" She said softly, stroking his hair. He snuggled into her, crushing her with his body, moving inside her for a moment longer, feeling only peace, only fulfilment.

His hand slid down between her thighs and teased her clit for so long until she came under the touch of his fingers, filled with his partially soft manhood, her body trembling all over in convulsions.

They kissed helplessly, as if they had given up any illusions of being able to pretend that they had nothing in common, that they felt nothing when they touched, that they both felt no relief for the first time since he left her without a word.

"− I'm sorry I left you then − that I didn't write back, that I…fuck −" He said and felt his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed loudly, snuggling into her neck, seeking comfort, refuge.

"− it's okay − you're safe here − I promise no one will hurt you here −" She whispered, and he felt his whole body flinch at her words, his hands clenched tightly on her body.

"− sleep in my bed −"

As promised when all the housemates had gone to bed she came into his room, her hair loose, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and pastel blue shorts. He involuntarily smiled to see that, as usual, she was dressed lightly and casually, unconcerned about anything.

She closed the door quietly behind her and tiptoed over to his bed, afraid that the old wooden floor would creak under her feet. He uncovered the duvet for her to lie beside him and she slid under the bedding landing in his arms.

He kissed her and stroked her cheek but did nothing more. He pressed his forehead against hers and looked at her, trying to realise that he had really come to her, that he was really with her.

She reciprocated his gesture, her fingers running over his scar, a gentle contentment and calmness on her face. He swallowed quietly and brushed her skin with the tip of his nose, and she smiled.

"− how do you feel? −" He asked lowly, not knowing how to put into words his worry, his feeling that he had used her, that he had hurt her, that he had preyed on her kindness and understanding. She blinked, considering his question for a moment, her hand stroking his hair slowly, making him shiver.

"− well − I was so worried about you − I'm relieved that you're here, safe −" She whispered softly and he swallowed loudly, feeling a sting in his heart at her words.

He pulled her to him so that her face lay under his chin, one of his hands stroking her hair, the other her back. He felt her embrace his waist and he kissed the top of her head, leaving his nose pressed against her hair.

"− then at the hotel I was shocked − I shouldn't have left you like that, but I couldn't − I don't know − He sighed heavily, her fingers trailing steadily down his back.

"− you've had a lot of bad things happen to you recently − you need to rest at last − no one will bother you here −" She said quietly and he hummed at her words, feeling that her scent, the warmth of her skin made his body relax, his eyelids began to close spontaneously, heavy from stress and many sleepless nights.

"− say you will come to my bed every day − I won't fall asleep without you −" He whispered, stroking her soft cheek with closed eyes. He felt her smile at his words.

"− I will −"

And so she did.

Every day she came to his room late at night when everyone else was asleep and sank into his arms. At first he tried to restrain himself and do nothing more than kisses, strokes and cuddles, not wanting her to think he was making her his sexual comfort.

But all it took was a few innocent kisses, her body close to his, the touch of her hands on his cheeks for her to feel how much he wanted her, his hard member pulsing hard against her body.

She would then begin to kiss him a little more courageously, deeper, her hand sinking into his hair, her hips rubbing shyly against him, and he already knew that he wouldn't be able to stop, that he would come inside her again like he had the night before.

Sex with her had always been remarkably tender and quiet at first, they kissed and touched as he moved inside her with slow, deep movements. He looked at her face and saw the feeling he had been dreading.

Realizing slowly what was happening between them he sped up, as if he wanted to stop it, pretend it was only about physical pleasure and fucked her closing her mouth with his own, stifling all her moans in his throat.

When it was all over they embraced each other quickly, as if they needed to find solace in each other's arms, breathing hard, their bodies trembling, sweaty from exertion and pleasure. They would then kiss for a while longer, him dragging a moment before sliding out of her, sometimes just falling asleep while being deep inside her.

They didn't talk during the day about what they did at night.

They had originally agreed that he would stay with them for a week, as a rest and holiday. Borros did not want to hear about paying for his stay, and said that if he wanted to, he could help his daughters and son with household chores.

At first he felt strange about it, but then he got used to putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher with her, accompanying Borros shopping in the market or helping to set the table for dinner.

Although they did not talk much, he spent a great deal of time with her. They went on walks together with Vhagar, wandering through the nearby forests and fields, watching sunrises and sunsets together. She did not force him to emerge, nor did she ask him about his past or his future, letting him rest in the here and now.

He worked remotely, and although he could do so from his room, he preferred to stay in her workshop, watching from the corner of his eye as she sewed. The sound of the sewing machine, or the sight of her embroidering, applying materials to each other, sketching out a new design relaxed him.

Occasionally they would talk about what she was doing, she would show him step by step how she was putting the parts of the garment on the mannequin together one by one. Sometimes they looked at each other and there was a silence between them, but the kind that is pleasant, full of understanding.

He embraced her then and kissed her forehead, not letting her go for a long time.

Royce knew what was going on between them, but he felt that Borros also sensed that something was up. He took him aside one day after breakfast when his younger daughter was just talking to her older sister. He thought he was going to ask him how much longer he was going to stay and enjoy their hospitality, but her father brought up a completely different subject.

"Have you been to a therapist before?" He asked suddenly, and he swallowed loudly, completely surprised, putting his hands in front of him in a gesture of defence.

"…as a child." He said coldly, recalling with difficulty his visits with his mother to a certain lady's office after he had lost his eye. He hated her because she spoke to him as if he were a small child who understood nothing. Borros murmured at his words.

"Listen. I see that you and my daughter are close − let me finish −" He rebuked him when he saw that he wanted to get a word in, and he pressed his lips together, swallowing loudly.

"− I can see that you are close, but I know that no matter how close you are, she will not be able to help you with everything that has happened in your life. She and Royce, after the death of their mother, urged me to have therapy and I shied away for years, but only now do I understand that what I poured out at my therapist, I poured out on my children before. − Do you understand what I mean? It's not a shame. − I can drive you to him, we'll say we'll go shopping together. No one will know. −"

He didn't want to do that, he was furious and horrified by his words.

Who was he to dictate terms to him?

When he went out for a walk with Vhagar and cooled down, however, he began to think about it and decided with shame that Borros was right.

He had come to their home and run away from his problems, hiding in her arms, coming deep inside her, but he knew that it would end one day, that he'd have to return. And then what?

He was afraid of what she aroused in him, afraid of how easily they became attached to each other, afraid of how easily intimacy in every aspect of the word came to them. In that one thing Cregan was right, with her everything seemed simple, good.

But he knew he was being cruel towards her, taking what she gave him without offering her anything in return, no reassurance, no confession. She reckoned he could leave and not speak to her again, forget her, and although he knew it was unfair, he couldn't sort out in his head what was happening to him, what he wanted and what he didn't.

He thought he'd drive with him there one time so he could give him a break.

The man Borros took him to lived in the suburban village next door in a small house in the woods. He liked the fact that he did not live in plain sight, giving him a sense of privacy and security. When he got out Borros told him he would be there in an hour and that everything would be fine.

He was terrified.

When he knocked on the door he was opened by a smiling man about Borros's age with an already elegantly trimmed grey beard, combed hair and glasses. He was wearing a shirt, light trousers and jacket and immediately held out his hand to him, which he shook.

"Mr Aemond? Please come in."

He led him into a cabinet that looked like a spacious living room, filled with vases and paintings, to his right a large extinguished fireplace, to his left huge windows overlooking the garden. There was something peaceful about this view, he thought, playing with his fingers as he sat down in the armchair he had pointed out to him.

He felt small.

He smiled at him, adjusting his glasses, sitting down and nodding at him.

"What brings you to me?" He asked lightly, as if it was a chat between two friends who had just met for coffee. He saw that a large glass full of water was standing in front of him.

He swallowed quietly at his question not knowing for a moment what to answer. He decided that he would simply tell the truth.

"My friend's father told me that I should go to therapy." He said coolly, not looking at him but out of the window, into the garden. The man hummed at his words, turning in his seat.

"Your parents do not think the same?"

He lowered his gaze, trailing his fingers along his armrest, looking blankly at his hand.

"My father is dead. And my mother…I don't know. She's going through a hard time." He explained, wanting to justify her in his mind.

She was always on his side.

The therapist nodded.

"How do you feel about your father no longer being among us?" He asked softly, noncommittally. He shrugged his shoulders at his question.

"Not at all."

"You weren't close?"

"No."

His therapist looked at him watchfully and again corrected his glasses, which had rolled down his nose.

"Tell me about your friend."

Aemond twisted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling his heart begin to beat hard in his chest. He grunted loudly, looking down at his hand.

"What do you want to know?" He asked indifferently, the man turning his head at his question.

"What you think is relevant."

Aemond didn't know what was relevant and what wasn't, he felt confused and stranded.

"She is good, understanding and gentle." He said softly, swallowing quietly without looking at him, his fingers still trailing in unconditional impulse over his armrest. A rather long silence answered him.

"Helping you through this difficult time?" He finally asked quietly, and he only nodded. The man made a sound of understanding.

"You said that her father persuaded you to go to therapy. Do you often visit their family?" He asked, and his lips tightened, it seemed as if his whole body was tense like a string about to snap.

"I came to their house for a while to rest." He said dryly, again looking with an impatient gaze towards the garden outside the window.

"What makes it so special about their house that you happen to be looking for rest there?" He asked curiously, and he gulped loudly, feeling a tightness in his throat.

"She is there." He answered more quietly than he would have liked, feeling hot, feeling ashamed, embarrassed.

She.

For some reason he felt like crying.

The therapist looked at him silently, watching him closely.

"She must be a really good friend." He said finally, and he furrowed his brow as if in pain, with his residual strength not letting the embarrassing moisture he felt under his eyelids leave the corners of his eyes.

"Yes. She is." He muttered, feeling a tightening in his heart, a discomfort in his stomach from which he felt sick. "Too good."

The doctor twisted in his seat.

"What do you have in mind? Please elaborate on that thought." He said, fiddling with the pen in his hand.

He didn't want to talk about it with him, but on the other hand he had no one else to share it with. He was a complete stranger and what he would think of him didn't really matter to him.

"I'm sleeping with her." He said with shame, his throat hoarse, his hand clenched into a fist. "I'm using her."

The man corrected his glasses again with a quiet click.

"Why do you think you're using her?" He asked, and he scrunched up his eyebrows, feeling that this conversation was coming at him with great difficulty, as if someone had cut him open and was tearing at his insides.

He felt small, frightened, closed off, and on the other hand he felt that something was going on in his mind, that he needed to get it out of him.

"I met her at a jewellery expo a month ago. I spent two nights there with her until I got the news that my father was dead. I left her without a word and didn't speak to her from that time. Then she reached out to me and said that I could always count on her, that I could call if I needed to. I finally did and asked if I could come to her house. That I needed to get away and had nowhere to go. She agreed, her family welcomed me with open arms, and I fuck her under their roof." He said quickly, his voice breaking on the last sentence, he covered his face with his hand, shaking his head.

How could he do this to her?

The therapist looked up at the ceiling, as if considering something.

"Have you discussed beforehand the principles on which your relationship will be based? Have you made any commitments to her?" He asked, and he snorted loudly and shook his head.

"No, we didn't sign any contract. We haven't agreed on anything, but I can see…I don't know, when she looks at me, I think I just know there's more to it than that. That if I leave and abandon her again, I'm going to hurt her, and I'm doing it deliberately anyway." He mumbled, massaging his face with his hands, pulling off his leather jacket feeling that he was hot. The man waited with his answer until he was seated in his armchair again.

"You talk a lot about what you think she feels, but as I understand it you didn't ask her directly. Why?"

Aemond lowered his gaze, embarrassed by what he was about to say.

"… because I don't want to stop." He said quietly. The man made an encouraging movement with his hand.

"Explain your thought."

Aemond swallowed loudly.

"I don't want to stop doing it with her. I want to keep sleeping with her." He said, and then burst into tears like a small child.

The man said nothing as he ran his hands over his face, trying to calm himself, breathing loudly. He leaned over and slipped his fingers into his hair, looking down at his lap, crushed by the realisation of how bad and selfish he was.

The therapist grunted quietly.

"Why don't you want to stop?"

"I don't know." He mumbled quickly, the man's brow furrowed.

"Make an effort."

Aemond chuckled helplessly at his words and snorted through his nose, wiping his red eyes, not believing that he had actually cried in front of a stranger.

"Because it's pleasant. Because she is beautiful and I am comfortable with her. Because I am calm and peaceful around her. Because I can't fall asleep when she's not next to me." He said amused, as if he expected the man to laugh at his words. He, however, remained serious.

"You're describing your emotional needs, not physical ones, and so sexual intimacy is a result of them, not the other way around." He said lightly, and he snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't understand what you're talking about." He said.

"Feelings of security, reassurance, comfort, acceptance, as well as physical closeness and associated pleasure are emotional factors. They are not related to a purely male drive, although you express them that way. You replace the lack of emotional communication with physical closeness, but it is not an aim in itself. The lack of proper tenderness or closeness shown to the child by parents during childhood often causes such people to involuntarily seek satisfaction of these needs in sexual intercourse, because they are unable to ask for it otherwise."

Aemond looked at him feeling as if he had lost his hearing for a moment, his heart pounding like mad. He looked blankly at the glass in front of him and bit his lower lip hard. He didn't know how he felt about what he'd heard, but he wasn't sure he could call his words a lie.

"What does that mean?" He asked finally, the therapist hummed at his words.

"That you are looking for something more than sexual release in your friend."

Aemond drove with Borros back to their house in complete silence, the radio playing in the background. Borros glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, concerned to see that he was returning even more petulant than an hour ago.

"Are you all right?" He asked uncertainly.

"I don't know."

When they got back to their house he smelled dinner, Cassandra and Ellyn had promised to make a roast. Even though everything was ready and they were about to sit down at the table, he said he felt worse and would miss the meal. He saw her worried look lead him upstairs.

When she came to him in the night and lay down beside him he did not let her say a word, his lips instantly pressed to hers, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat, taking her breath away. He undressed her and himself, wanting to feel her with his whole body, with every inch of his skin.

She tried to ask him what was wrong, if he was all right, but her words turned to moans as he slid his tongue deep between her thighs, caressing her until she was on the verge of orgasm.

He lifted then onto his shoulders, wiping his face quickly, put her legs around his waist and entered her deeply, her head tilted back with a blissful sigh as if his presence inside her was the most natural thing in her life. He pressed his forehead to hers, looking down at her with a hazy gaze, his hips pushing her hot, throbbing insides apart with intense thrusts.

"I want more." He exhaled and she blinked, stroking his cheek, panting along with him, her face expressing dismay. He slowed a tad, sliding deep inside her, all the way in.

"I want more. More than this. Do you understand?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she nodded quickly with a sweet, warm smile.

He kissed her greedily, her arms embracing his neck and pulling him close. He gripped his hands on her hips and fucked her until they both came, writhing under each other and panting loudly.

He kissed her cheek, stroking her hair, her gaze full of understanding, joy, fulfilment. They moved closer to each other, their lips brushing against one another gently, innocently, tenderly. He brushed her cheek with the tip of his nose and hummed, as if he had just decided something.

"I'm going to take you with me."

____

Epiloque is coming after my come back from Prague 💕💕💕

Taglist 1

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mechalily · 6 months

Text

LYNEY, LYNETTE, FREMINET × YOU, THEIR BELOVED

fluff, slight mentions of stalking (?)

Lyney never repeats same tricks, always coming up with new repertoire every show. Although.. you are an exception, the only person he doesn't mind rehearsing old tricks to. If you ask Lyney to show "that one super cool thingie!!" he'll do it without a second thought. He never thinks twice when it comes to your desires.

And whenever you are feeling down, Lyney is always there for you. If there are tears rolling down your cheeks, the magician pulls a handkerchief out of thin air and whipes it away gently.

"Ma chérie, you can cry as much as needed — I am here for you, but remember: even though you are undesrcibingly beautiful, smile really adorns your face", — somehow Lyney materializes a rainbow rose out of his pocket and presents it to you.

Lynette is always observing, keeping the tiniest details in her mind. Constantly noting minor changes, paying attention to circumstances is what she must do in order to fulfill her duties to the Father. Even though it may be selfish, Lynette mostly watches over you. Your every move, every blink, every sound — you don't want to know what she has found out about your persona. She needs to know everything about you to keep you safe (yes, this includes info such as your favourite color, favourite dessert and clothes you prefer to wear. Trust her!). Lynette is also the first one to take congnizance of changes in you. No need to tell her you've got a new haircut, got hurt or bought new jewellery — she already knows.

Lynette also notes to herself different traits of yours. If you waste time passing some silly quizzes and receive questions such as "how do your friends perceive you?", she appears out of nowhere to think for a few minutes and then gives you a serious, honest answer.

"Lynette, which object am I?"

"Lynette, which lyric fits me the best?"

"Lynette, who am I? Soldier, poet or king?"

Young lady's patience and seriousness during answering all this questions makes you melt.

Freminet's top priority is your well-being. He does everything to lessen your burden, spends days and nights trying to invent mechanisms which decrease the time you spend doing chores.

Too tired to cook? Freminet will most definitely construct some sort of automated pot: put the ingredients inside, and the dish will cook itself.

Lazy to do the laundry? Here, have this brand-new machine he absolutely-did-not-create-just-for-you. If the problems you are facing are common for Teyvat inhabitants due to its level of development, Freminet is going to outpace entire humanity and create 21st-century technologies, not even realizing the impact he'd made.

Because of his overthinking nature, Freminet plans everything 10 steps ahead. He checks the weather forecast everyday just to know if you need an umbrella or sunglasses today. Despite being extremely socially awkward, this precious boy asks if the dish contains foods that may cause your allergic reactions. He overcomes himself for you.

#genshin headcanons #lyney x reader #lynette x reader #freminet x reader #genshin impact #genshin fluff #fluff

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lilibethwrites · 2 years

Text

Growing Pains

Chapter 4 (Finale): The Delights of the Realm

Aemond Targaryen x F!Velaryon (Strong) Reader

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3

They say it’s always the dark before sunrise, and Aemond and Y/N have more than earned to bask in the sunlight of their love. But, will everything go as smooth as they would hope to? Will the Prince and the Princess get the happily ever after they deserve? Or will they burn for each other apart?

Warnings: NSFW (smut. So much smut)

Word count: 5472

A.N: I’ve received so many lovely messages and so much love and support while this little project was going on. I’m so glad to have you all along for the ride. Enjoy!

Aemond’s promise lit a fire that burnt Y/N all across her body, but it scorched the desire rising between her legs the most. She leaned against the table to stay on her feet as Aemond left her arms abruptly.

“To—ahem, tonight?” Her trembling hands brushed strays of hair behind her ear. “How do you plan to do that, my Prince? Will you summon the Sept to your bedchamber? You are still forbidden from leav—”

“Patience, my love,” he said with his back to Y/N, digging through the chest at the foot of his bed.

”My love, my love, my love…” Aemond’s voice dipped in the sweetest of honey in the realm echoed in Y/N’s mind. She gripped the rounded corner of the table to stop herself from all but jumping into his arms, or collapsing to her knees and sobbing for how long she’d waited to hear it, and for how long she’d lamented that he would never say it.

At the bottom of the wooden chest, wrapped in a generous cut of rich velvet, was a necklace. Made from some of the best pearls of King Viserys’ coffers, and with a pendant wrought from Valyrian steel encrusted with rubies, emeralds and sapphires.

Aemond pulled it out with a glint of pride in his eye. He unwrapped the ribbon that kept the necklace secure between the folds of the velvet, and the pearls glistened in the candlelight. It seemed like the sort of jewellery that would be kept in the royal bank, passed down only from one Queen to the other.

“Aemond—what—what is this?”

“This, my darling,” he kneeled in front of Y/N, holding the necklace out for her to see. “Is my promise to you that I will love you and protect you until the last drop of my blood.”

“But…” the tears that were more than ready to fall that night prickled Y/N’s eyes once more, and this time, she didn’t fight them.

Between her quivering lips came out a quiet, shaky whimper of Aemond’s name. He rose quickly to his feet and wiped the tears that rolled down to Y/N cheeks with his thumb.

“I shall have you cry no more unless they are happy tears.”

“Where—how—” How did Aemond come to the possession of that necklace? And for what purpose?

“Must you truly interrogate me now? Could you at least pity me enough to allow me to put it on you?” Aemond smiled, rubbing Y/N’s shoulders.

Y/N nodded in response and turned around with her hair swept away from her neck. Aemond placed the necklace around Y/N’s neck and pressed a rather sensuous, open-mouthed kiss to her bare skin before clasping it secure. Goosebumps arose where his lips had just been, and Y/N turned around with heavy lids.

Her fingers ran across the pearls, stopping at the pendant in the middle of them while Aemond followed her delicate hand with a dark, hungry look in his eye.

“Aemond, my love,” Y/N could say it forever and she would still not have enough. “It’s beautiful.”

The cold pearls and the Valyrian steel on her scorching skin only spurred on further as she closed the distance between them once again and raised on her toes to pull Aemond down for another kiss. There were emotions welled up inside them for far too long that words couldn’t hope to do justice. Aemond was just as eager to do away with words that couldn’t scratch the surface of the love and lust he felt for Y/N, so he kissed her back.

It was gentle and passionate, which they said Aemond was incapable of. Surprisingly, Y/N was the eager and rough one of the lovers, tangling her fingers in Aemond’s hair to pull him closer to deepen the kiss and roughen it up, but Aemond resisted. He remained gentle, slow and sweet, almost too gentle even for a Septa’s liking.

“If you—” he murmured pleadingly into the kiss, their lips barely apart, “if you keep on with it—my love, I may not be able to stop.”

“You’ve stopped for far too long. I do not want you to any longer.” Y/N’s voice was low and breathy, dripping in lust for Aemond that she has suppressed for years.

Aemond’s response was a growl which sounded more dragon than human. He scooped her up easily and carried her to his bed. And despite his hunger for her and the arousal that tightened his breeches, he mustered enough control to set her down gently and climbed on top of her.

They stared at one another for a moment and reached for each other’s faces as if to convince themselves it was not a twisted dream they would wake up from in a sweat.

“Command me to stop and I—”

“I do not wish you to stop, Aemond. I never once did.”

With that, Aemond’s lips closed around Y/N’s, then travelled down to her jaw, her neck, and her chest peeking from the loosened ribbons of her nightgown. He undid each bow with his teeth, planting a wet kiss on the newly-revealed patch of skin. He was slow, torturously so. When Y/N raised her hips impatiently, he grinned mischievously and pressed them down.

“Patience, my darling Princess. Allow me to savor you. The night is still young,” he whispered in her ear before pressing another kiss to the corner of her lip and returning to his duty down on her chest.

Aemond patiently undid the ribbons that held the bodice of Y/N’s nightgown together. He pulled back, sitting between her legs to admire his work, and more than that, his lover’s body on his bed, ready for him to take. To claim, to make her his own in yet another way.

Heat crept up to Y/N’s cheeks under Aemond’s hungry eye. She felt like a rabbit toyed with by a predator, and surprisingly, she enjoyed it. She squirmed, begging with purrs and whimpers for Aemond to return to where he had left off.

Aemond slid an arm under her waist and lifted Y/N off the bed enough to slip the gown off her shoulders and down to her hips. From there, he pulled it off and discarded it easily. There Y/N lay only in her stockings held at her thighs with ribbons and her pearls-and-Valyrian-steel necklace.

She raised herself off to kneel in front of Aemond, who was still in his nightshirt and breeches. Her trembling fingers pulled his shirt up and off, and Aemond raised his hands to allow her. While he expected her hands to travel to the ties that kept his waistband in place, Y/N instead reached for his face. His eye widened, and in the anticipation of what was to come, he grew stiff. Perhaps he even meant to pull back, but Y/N had already hooked a finger under the cord that kept his eye patch in place.

It was funny. Y/N was the one who stood with nothing but stockings and a necklace in front of him, yet Aemond felt naked and vulnerable instead. He held Y/N’s wrist gently to stop her.

“Aemond, I love you. All of you. A sapphire for an eye will not change that. The Seven Gods together cannot.” She even thought it added a certain charm to him.

He relaxed, then. Slowly, with each shaky exhale, and allowed Y/N to take the patch off.

“I should have told you more just how handsome you are,” Y/N kissed along the deep scar that ran across the right side of Aemond’s face. Her fingertips left dragon fire wherever they travelled, from his cheeks to his neck, down to his chest and abdomen, dangerously close to where his manhood craved her touch. Yet he knew that if she did, he would come undone in no time. That was no way to make love to his lady on their first time.

So Aemond instead gently laid Y/N down, his body positioned once again between her legs. He caressed her thighs, and she moaned without shame, safe and proud in the knowledge that she was his and that they deserved to act on their lust. Then his calloused fingertips moved to the insides of her thighs, to the soft and sensitive flesh burning up for him. That alone was enough to make Y/N squirm and whimper, reaching up to squeeze one of his pillows.

“Do not close your eyes. I want to see it in your eyes.”

“What—what in my—oh, Gods!” Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the obscene sounds as she found out exactly what Aemond wanted to see in her eyes. His finger stroked a long line between her already-slick folds, remained pressed at the bundle of nerves that almost made her come undone, and drew a circle on it all the while keeping his eye on hers.

It was an understatement to say that Aemond took pleasure in watching the way Y/N responded to his touch. To watch the woman he loved from afar for so long losing her composure under his fingers, her beautiful face contorted in pleasure, and to know that he was the only one to witness it pleased him like nothing else could. His own breathing turned heavier, and his parted lips trembled at the sight in front of him.

Unrelenting, Aemond dipped his head between Y/N’s legs next. He sucked on and very gently scraped his teeth on the tender flesh of the insides of Y/N’s thighs. He stopped just before her folds only to look up at her as he wetted his lips and he slid a finger in.

Y/N meant to protest. She was already on the verge of her release. Aemond did pull his finger out, but only to push back two. He hushed Y/N, asking her to trust him, whispering that it would be better for her this way.

“Do not hold back,” he instructed. Then, the absence of his fingers was filled by his tongue. He sucked, lapped at and swirled over her folds before dipping his tongue into her warmth, working for her release with long and slow strokes.

Aemond’s hips were grinding against the mattress desperately: he was at the very end of his restraint. It was a good thing that so soon after, Y/N’s muscles tightened, and the coiling tension snapped into a fuzzy, sweet heat that overtook her body. She arched her back, writhing—all the while squeezing Aemond’s head between her thighs and trapping him pushed against her heat with his nose pressed up against her swollen bud. She’d touched herself before to the thoughts of Aemond, but never once had she come close to the peak of the mountain of blinding pleasure Aemond brought her to just now.

When she regained her composure, her voice already turning hoarse and her throat beginning to ache from just how much she’d screamed her lover’s name, she let go of the sheets she was gripping to comb her fingers through Aemond’s hair.

He rose slowly and triumphantly from between her legs then. He licked his lips and wiped his chin on the back of his hand. His broad chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he was all but gasping for air.

When Aemond undid his breeches and freed his bulge with a hiss, the tremors in Y/N’s thighs and hips had just come to an end. The untamed predator in him was beguiling enough to almost seduce Aemond into simply pulling the fabric down to his knees and entering Y/N. Resisting the sweet urge to enter her in one swift thrust and set a frantic, unrelenting tempo proved to be even more difficult than when he intended to slash her Lannister suitor from ear to ear.

He was already hard, achingly so. Y/N reached down between her legs, wrapped her trembling hand around his and guided him inside her. He pushed in slowly, carefully. Y/N’s head was buried back in Aemond’s pillow and his was thrown back in pleasure. As he split her folds and entered her slowly, the lovers gasped and moaned in unison. There was a hint of pain inside Y/N as he sank down into her depth, stretching her with each slight thrust of his hips. She could feel every little vein on his manhood, and Aemond was engulfed by the tight heat that squeezed him relentlessly. Her hand wantonly reached up, trying to hold onto something, anything. Aemond laced his fingers with hers, comforting her as he allowed her to adjust to his size just before he bottomed out with a groan stifled in his throat.

Then he started moving again. His pace was easy, slow, affectionate. He leaned closer to her body and Y/N gripped the back of his head to pull him down for a kiss. It was sloppy as each roll of Aemond’s hips pulled their heads back to tear out another whimper or moan.

Soon, Y/N adapted to just how Aemond filled her, and the hint of pain left its place for pure pleasure. Her hips jolted when he hit a particularly sweet spot, and he hooked her leg around his waist to go deeper, to keep working the spot that made Y/N cry his name out.

Y/N’s heart began to race once again. The same overwhelming tension began to coil once again, and this time, she pushed against his thrusts to chase it. The second time around was even sweeter for both of them. Her walls fluttered around him, her hips stuttered, and with her arched back pressing her chest to his, she came undone once again with his name on her lips.

Aemond sucked in a sharp breath, his own release was brought threateningly close as his name on Y/N’s lips filled his ears and he felt each spasm and flutter around his sensitive member. He meant to pull out, to give Y/N the rest she much needed. He was used to taking care of himself, after all. Yet, Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him to keep going.

His thrusts became erratic and hungry then. His head hung low, his hot breath tickling the sweaty skin of Y/N’s neck as he buried his fingers into her soft hips. She could feel his cock twitching inside her, and she whispered praises to her lover, encouraging him to go as fast and rough as he desired.

The sound of smacking flesh and their moans filled the bedchamber. Aemond’s nerves were on fire. With a trembling hand, he attempted to let his hips loose from Y/N’s legs, but she only pulled his head down to whisper in his ear that she desired him to finish inside her.

Aemond knew very well he shouldn’t, but his resolve had run out, and he found himself keeping her hips in place to pound inside her. His face was flushed with loose strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead creased into a frown of concentration. He bit his lip to stifle the loud groans that threatened to overflow from his bedchamber to the empty hall. With one last powerful thrust, his abdomen tightened and he spilled himself inside her.

His sweet, carnal sounds and the warmth of his load pushed Y/N over the edge one last time as well, and the shockwaves of pleasure gripped both their bodies. Aemond could keep himself barely above her with two shaking arms planted on each side of her head, and they remained with their foreheads pressed together and eyes shut for a moment.

They were both sucking in sharp breaths and exhaling shakily, their hips twitching and jolting from overstimulation. Aemond was the first to recollect himself. He pulled himself out of her with a gasp, and watched his seed leak out of her Y/N’s folds. The room, now that he came back to his senses, smelled of Y/N’s perfume and the musky smell their lovemaking.

He rolled on his back next to her and pulled his lover onto his chest with an arm around her shoulders. His fingers absentmindedly massaged her tense muscles, and she tangled her legs with his. Now that they came down from the height of their pleasure, the thin sheen of sweat that covered their bodies and glistened in the candlelight began to send shivers down their spines in the cold air of midnight.

As if jealous of the way the two lovers dissolved into pleasure and fell apart in each other’s arms, thunder rumbled outside the window and it soon started pouring. Aemond pulled the heavy blanket over their naked bodies, and Y/N nestled her head into his chest. She could hear the pounding of his heart settling down into a slow rhythm. They remained quiet for a while, simply content to hear each other breathe and to have found out that reality proved to be better than their dreams for once.

“My love,” she cooed.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Nothing. I only wanted to say it.” That got a quiet chuckle out of Aemond, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Though, I would very much like it if you—”

“If I told you how I came to possess the necklace?”

“No!” She rose, still in his arms. Aemond only squinted and cocked his head to the side. He knew her all too well.

“Well… yes,” defeated, she dropped her head back on his chest.

“It was made for me—well, for my wife-to-be. As grandfather handed it to me, I could see it on no woman’s neck but yours. I lied upon my arrival and said that I’d left it with the Baratheon lord as an offer of consolation, but I hadn’t even taken it with me. I’ve held onto the silly hope that the day might come when I could use it for its true purpose.”

“What would you have done if... you know. You couldn’t give it to me?” Y/N asked without lifting her head, and her fingers drew shapes and spelled out High Valyrian words she’s recently learned on Aemond’s chest.

“I would rather not dwell on that dreadful possibility. It upset me for far too many nights already.”

To push out the dreadful possibilities that haunted him for years, Aemond focused on the way Y/N’s fingertips moved across his skin. He identified them as High Valyrian right away and tried to make out the words she was spelling. Her High Valyrian needed some work, he noticed, but decided it would make a worse pillow talk than the one at hand.

“Please,” Y/N snuggled closer to Aemond with a playful smile. She propped herself up on an elbow to look at him while her other hand rested on Aemond’s chest where her head had just been. “As your wife-to-be, I ask that you humour me. Would you have sold it?”

“No. Of course not. I would have flown above the sea and thrown it down from the clouds.”

“Imagine—” a big yawn interrupted Y/N. “Imagine the poor fisher who’d come upon it.”

“Y/N. The impact would have shattered it,” Aemond spoke incredulously but with a smile anyway. “You speak as if you’ve never flown before.”

She considered it for a moment, then giggled at her silliness. Apparently, her wits didn’t come back to her just as quickly as her breath did.

“Help me dress,” she said next, after another yawn. Aemond was fighting the sweet call of slumber with his heavy lid as well.

“Dress? Remain here in my arms.”

“Mother would turn the Red Keep upside down if I’m not in my bed by the time she is up.”

She planted a kiss on Aemond’s lips, and he pulled her back into his embrace for another, longer one.

“Tell her we were consummating our marriage, darling wife.”

“For that, dear husband, we need to be married first.”

Y/N began tying the ribbons of her nightgown. It was difficult to stand with the dull ache between her legs and her trembling knees. Aemond rose from the bed to support her with a hand on her back.

Then despite Aemond’s insistence that he would carry her back to her chamber in his arms, they settled on him walking her to her door. Y/N forbade him from entering, however, when she saw the mischievous glint in his eye. He was a terrible liar, and even the silliest of the servant girls could tell he meant to do more than fluff up her pillows if she allowed him in.

“How could a lady so sweet could be so cruel to her humble servant?” He feigned sorrow, and Y/N gave him another kiss to send him on his way.

The Prince and the Princess had the deepest, most restful slumbers of their lives that night. Aemond clutched the pillows that smelled like his lover, and Y/N ran her fingertips across the bruises that were starting to darken where Aemond’s mouth and fingers had been.

By the time Y/N limped to join her family for breakfast the next morning, Aemond was already seated and nursing a cup of wine. His head shot up to the door when her attendance was announced. Despite the night before when they left no place in their bodies unexplored, heat crept up to Y/N’s cheeks at the chaste smile Aemond gave her.

Across from Y/N, Daemon smirked at the lovers knowingly. The man had a nose like a hound in a hunting party for such things.

“I trust the evening lay was decent?” He spoke up out of nowhere.

Y/N choked on her bite of sweetpie, and Aemond’s eye widened. They both froze, while the rest of the table gave Daemon puzzled looks for asking that question so late into the breakfast.

“What? Have I said something out of the ordinary?” He feigned innocence, but the mischievous smirk plastered on his face gave his intentions away to the guilty party. “What, Rhaenyra? I was merely asking if we all had decent enough slumber following the tragic event.”

“Yes, Uncle. It was, in fact, better than decent.” Aemond rose to Daemon’s challenge with a defying smirk.

Never once to exchange words, this interaction took everyone by surprise, Y/N included. Then Aemond’s gaze fell on Y/N, and he gave her a smile that she couldn’t quite read. Reassuring perhaps, but of what?

Then he got up from his seat with his cup in the air.

“I propose a toast for what came out of it, Uncle. Give me Y/N’s hand in marriage.”

Silence fell to the table, and everyone froze in their motions. Alicent’s fork in the air, Otto with his orange peel in his mouth, Rhaenyra clutching her pregnant belly and Aegon slowly sobering up at what he had just heard coming out of his brother’s mouth.

“Not much of a question, is it?” Deamon mumbled, smiling. He was enjoying this far too much, even for his usual disposition. His voice barely reached Rhaenyra and Aemond. “You’re demanding her hand in marriage. No?”

Then Aegon laughed. “What in Gods’ name is happening?!”

Helaena, sweet as ever, began to clap in excitement. “Another wedding! How sweet!”

Then came the commotion.

“Absolutely not! Over my grave!” Rhaenyra roared.

“Are you mad?! Are you insane?! Do you intend to start a war?!” Alicent shouted at her son.

“What is the meaning of this?! This is unacceptable!” Otto stared back and forth between Y/N and Aemond. He was dangerously close to morphing into a dragon and setting the lovers on fire.

“Absolutely not! My only daughter WILL NOT marry that… this boy!” Rhaenyra slammed her hands on the table.

“Rhaenyra, you’ve once asked for Alicent’s daughter—“ Daemon lowered his voice, and Rhaenyra followed instinctively.

“For Luke! Jake! They are not the same!”

“No, but it would do us both good if our families were reunited again. All the better if the marriage is not an arranged one. We all know how those tend to end,” he whispered the last part with a grin. He of all people would know.

“How could you be so delighted with this when you very much dislike the boy?”

“It’s a good thing I’m not the one marrying him, then. That we would both agree on, no? Trust Y/N to know what is good for her.”

Meanwhile, Aemond was still standing up, unflinching. He seemed almost bored, as if the uproar he had just caused was just an inconvenience in the way of the blessing he was determined to acquire one way or the other.

“Either allow me to marry her, or I shall take her and make her my wife elsewhere,” he threatened both Y/N’s and his own family calmly.

Daemon was amused still, and interjected only to speak to Y/N. “Dear daughter, what is your word on this? Is this your desire?”

The table fell silent once again; all eyes were trained on Y/N. She gazed into Aemond’s to find the strength to speak up. It wasn’t difficult to imagine how this would go down: either with Aemond and herself leaving the table as husband and wife or with swords drawn and blood spilled.

“Yes,” she spoke quietly but assuredly. “It is indeed my desire, father. Mother, Queen Alicent. I wish nothing more than to be wed to Prince Aemond, with or without your blessings.”

“Finally, very good,” Daemon chuckled and clapped his hands. “Took you two lovers long enough to come around to it.”

Soon, Rhaenyra was calmed and she came around to the idea once she saw just how happy Aemond made her daughter, and Alicent smiled her most sincere smiles since her husband, King Viserys, fell ill and turned bed-ridden.

The preparations for the wedding began swiftly. Aemond and Y/N spent all their waking moments together, this time without any secrets or care for the gossip. Their union was blessed twice, once under the light of Seven Gods as per Queen Alicent’s request, and once more by the old Valyrian tradition. Though both were only for their families: Aemond promised that he was Y/N’s and Y/N his at the night they’d spent in each other’s arms. There was no stronger promise to them than that. For the celebratory feast, King Viserys himself left his bed and graced their union with his presence and blessing. The throne room erupted into laughter when he joked that he was surprised when the news of the Prince and Princess’s betrothal reached his ears as he thought they have already been married for years.

Content just to live in a chamber together for as long as they had one another, it came to the lovers as a surprise when Prince Daemon proposed a toast and offered them a wedding gift. By Rhaenyra, Alicent and Visery’s blessings, he gave the newly-weds Harrenhal for them to live in and rule as they saw fit. It was far enough to have their own lives but not far enough that they couldn’t make the journey to King’s Landing and back in a reasonable time. Besides, the weather and the land were perfectly suitable for their dragons to inhabit as well.

“Far enough that I won’t have to see my dear Niece’s sour face every morning as I break my fast, but close enough that I shall fly in a moment to kill him myself if he is ever to upset my daughter,” Daemon only half-joked in his usual sarcasm.

Known for his lack of sense of humor around most people, Aemond’s response was awaited in tension in the hall. Even Y/N squeezed his hand under the table. Aemond smiled, and like his uncle, he only half-joked when he promised that it wouldn’t be necessary as he would carry out the deed himself if he ever found himself upsetting his dear wife.

“Your flight would be in vain. You would find me fallen on my sword, Uncle.”

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“Oh, how delightful!” A servant cheered.

“The Gods have blessed us on this noon!”

“Congratulations, Princess, it’s a healthy boy!”

“What are you standing here for?! Go on, fetch Prince Aemond!”

“Send a raven to King’s Landing—and one to Dragonstone!”

Amid the cheerful commotion of the servants and midwives, the baby was carefully cleaned with a wet cloth dipped in scented oil and wrapped up in a red and green blanket. Camylle, who packed up and moved to Harrenhal with her Princess after the wedding, handed him to Y/N with tears of joy.

“He’s strong and healthy just like his father. What shall be his name, my Princess?”

“Viserys.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely name.”

The labour had been going on for a while. Not long enough to warrant concern, but long enough for Aemond to receive the news and to rush into Vhagar’s nest. The news of his son’s birth reached him just as he had ripped his cloak to wrap it around a dragon egg of green and gold.

He hurriedly came into the bedchamber clutching the cloak, with the sweat and dirt still on his face.

“Oh, you’ve given birth of your own, husband?”

“It’s a gift, my love, from Vhagar.”

“An egg! Dyana, come look! An egg!” The servants approached the bassinet where Aemond carefully put the egg to hopefully hatch for his son one day.

Aemond wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and gazed at their baby as if he’d just witnessed the miracle of the Seven for himself.

“How are you doing?” He gently brushed the loose strands of hair from Y/N’s face. She smiled up weakly at him with baby Viserys in her arms.

“Always well when you are by my side, love.”

Though even just the lift of a finger sent excruciating pain up and down her body, Y/N scooted away to make room for Aemond to sit by her.

“You know, I suspect moon tea might not be as effective as the Maester would have us believe,” Y/N joked when the servants began dwindling in numbers, some busy with carrying the bloodied rags to washing and some preparing the newborn Prince’s room.

“Hm. A rather swift observation on your part, darling wife. Thought it begs further experiment, no?”

Y/N groaned, she would’ve burst into a fit of laughter if it didn’t hurt her belly.

“Absolutely not. I am never doing this again.”

Despite that, Viserys had a brother when he was three. And Aerys looked so much like his father that Y/N often joked Aemond might as well have birthed the boy himself alone. Then, when the boys just barely became dragonriders under the tutelage of their father, came the apple of their eyes: a sweet girl by the name of Visenya.

Maesters wrote in their history books that she was so lovely, she came out not crying but smiling at the midwives and her parents. From thereon, Prince Aemond was known not as One Eye, but as One Arm. Because Visenya was so charmed by her father, and Aemond with her, that she was always by his side, carried in his arm as a baby and held by the hand once she learned to walk. The poor Prince only had his right hand free to attend to matters, and gladly reserved the left for his precious daughter.

The three grandchildren became the darlings of their grandparents, as well as the realm itself. The sight of Vhagar with a small dragon, so small it could be Vhagar’s claw, right next to her was a cause of celebration. It meant Prince Aemond and his darling daughter were coming to visit King’s Landing, and would soon be followed by Princess Y/N on dragonback with her sons flying on each side of her.

Many tapestries and paintings were made for the beloved grandchildren of the realm, and even more songs were written and sung all across Westeros. And Aemond and Y/N’s love, even long after their passing, inspired many poets and bards to write the sweetest of love songs and stories. So much so that the young lovers were commonly described as being “madly in love like Aemond and Y/N”.

The Maesters wrote in history books that the union of two unlikely dragons, one an unruly Prince and the other an extraordinary Princess, stopped a bloody war that could have gone on for decades and might as well have been the end of their houses. It was said that the grandchildren were so loved that both the Blacks and the Greens forgot why they were ever at each other’s throats, and the realm has seen decades of peace like they’ve never known before. And so it was said that Prince Aemond and Princess Y/N, who had no intentions of ever claiming the Iron Throne for themselves, along with their children, became the forever King and Queen in the hearts of the realm.

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#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #hotd

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