#He thought he was mocking of the death of his son

[nelkcats]

Respawn is Phantom

When Danny was electrocuted in the portal, he died, it's true, but it wasn't just his soul that came out. You could call it a case of bad luck, but a ghost was looking to return to the world of the living and saw an opportunity.

So the reason Phantom has that appearance is because the ghost that got mixed into Danny's DNA is Respawn. Slade and Talia's clone who had recently passed away.

Danny is unaware of this at first, but after confronting Dan he began to wonder: why separating his ghost from his human side would make him aggressive? Why does he sometimes feel things that he swears don't make sense? And if Phantom was just a manifestation of his ghost powers, how could he be separated into his own being?

He'd been split up before but it created two versions of Danny, not Danny and Phantom. How could his powers grow a personality of their own without him?

Each of those questions has its own explanation: His ghost side is actually Respawn, which is slowly being absorbed by Danny. Respawn knows exactly who he is (or was) but as long as he's attached to Danny he is Danny, to an extent. Or at least, Phantom, who's a part of Danny more than he is Respawn.

He can remember everything but he can't make Danny remember any of it, because it's not his memories. And Danny both as Fenton and Phantom takes priority in their mind. The reason Dan was like this was because of the influence of Plasmius and Respawn. After all, the serum in Slade's blood often drives teenagers crazy.

Respawn lived all his life questioning his status as a person due to the fact that he was a clone. Living with Slade and seeing their differences made the process easier, but now? Now he can only influence the person who has him trapped, even if it is accidentally. Not knowing if one day he will disappear into Danny's consciousness.

Respawn can't make Danny remember his life, not out of any moral or emotional reason, he is locked behind a mental block, an entire person deep in Danny's subconscious that he doesn't know about and doesn't get to come out pretty much ever.

There are decisions in which Respawn positively influenced Danny. As the way of taking Dani's existence, because he knew exactly how she felt at that time, and Dani reminded him too much of his sister Rose. His influence has also extended to Phantom's way of acting: More fearless and risk-taking than when he's just Danny, he's also more easily swayed by anger (something that was very present in Respawn when he was alive).

Basically, he can affect small things like the aforementioned confidence and anger, emotions and stray thoughts mostly, especially intrusive ones, but he's not in control of anything.

The moment Slade shows up at Amity Park and sees Phantom is when things start to get complicated for Danny and Respawn.

[breadbrobin]

campfire games

luke castellan x reader - percy jackson and the olympians

[established relationship, fem!daughter of ares reader]

summary: bets are fun, until they aren’t. you’re fine though. luke knows you’re an absolute badass.

warning: pushy male behaviour, suggestive comments, swearing, bets, threats, assault (physical), sexual harassment.

word count: 1.6k

(help i’m writing too many of these but this is the only other good one also feel free to leave requests yall i’m on summer break i have so much time and need something to do 🤩🤩)

(also i am still in love with luke castellan thank you very much I CAN FIX HIM PLSSSS)

(also very sorry to anyone named andrew it was the first name i thought of)

——————————————————

there wasn’t much that your siblings in the ares cabin liked more than winning capture the flag, but watching you tear down another boys’ ego was definitely one of those few things.

campfires were great for many reasons. singing, marshmallows, games—and bets. when chiron and mr d. turned in for the night early, something that rarely happened, the bets would come out. guys would try and talk to you, your siblings would intercept them, find out what they wanted, then place bets among themselves and with other campers as to how long it would take you to tear them down a few notches, or, on occasion, tear them a new one.

clarisse patted your shoulder as two of your brothers talked to another camper. “incoming.”

“details?” you picked at the chipped red polish of your fingernails.

“son of apollo. been here for about two months. andrew. something about wanting to go on a date with you and thinking you’re prettier than the aphrodite girls.” she rolled her eyes. “he tried it on with me before and doesn’t like taking no for an answer, so break his spirit completely. or, you know, his bones.”

you saluted her teasingly. “yes, ma’am. you can count on me, sergeant.”

she patted your shoulder again with a joking grin. “good on you, private. godspeed.”

with that, she left you sitting alone.

well, not really alone.

luke castellan had somehow ended up as your bodyguard in all of these cases. probably something to do with the fact that you’d been dating in secret for the last three months. you weren’t a huge fan of keeping your relationship a secret, but when you’d told clarisse, she told you that her and your other siblings wanted to keep making easy money, and betting on me was the best way to do that. since everyone thought you and luke hated each other anyway, it was easy enough to keep it up, but as your mocking remarks turned to teasing, then to flirting, it was getting more and more difficult. and as he was getting more attractive each day, it was getting harder not to kiss him in front of everyone at camp.

you swivelled in your seat to look up at him. he was sitting three rows back, almost hidden in the darkness, a distinctly put out look on his face.

“you hear that?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a grin on your face. “he thinks i’m prettier than the aphrodite girls. when have you ever said that?”

“i told you you’re prettier than a model one time and you punched me,” he said dryly. “and then i said you look like a goddess while fighting and you punched me again.”

“in my defence, i did hate you at the time.” you shrugged. “got my back?”

“always.” he said seriously.

you grinned and winked at him as you turned around, waiting for the newest idiot to come annoy you.

luke had, once upon a time, been one of those idiots in your mind. he irritated you to no end. he was better than you at sword fighting, so you bested him at everything else. he was more popular than you, so you became one of the most well-liked people at camp. all of your attempts to break him down, however, only made him fall in love with you. now, there you were, wishing you could be sitting beside him instead of waiting for some loser to come annoy you to death.

“y/n, hey.” andrew said, sitting next to you, probably a little too close.

you looked over at him. “andrew, right?”

he nodded, his smile widening as you knew his name.

you sat up straighter and scrutinised him, looking him up and down. “yeah, you look like an andrew.”

you heard luke hide a laugh in his cup behind you.

andrew’s face fell a little, but he regained it quickly. “heard you were one of the best fighters in camp.”

“i am.”

“that’s pretty cool. i mean, i can help you become the best if you want.”

“no, i think i’m okay.”

“come on, i mean, everyone needs to improve. even the self-proclaimed best. bet i’m better at archery than you at least.”

you looked over at his smirk and had to stop yourself from smirking too. this would be too easy. “no. thanks, though. i’m good on my own. one of the best, remember.”

“you could be better. we should have a little challenge. a game.”

“i only play games with people i like.”

“you could like me.” he leaned a little closer. you leaned away slightly. “i bet i could make you like me.”

you had to stop yourself from laughing. “yeah, i don’t think so, buddy.”

‘buddy’ was usually all it took to break a man’s ego. you’d used it on luke many times during unusually flirtatious sparring, back when you still pretended to hate his guts. it didn’t work on him anymore, but it usually worked perfectly on everyone else.

andrew didn’t falter. “i bet i could. give me a chance. let me take on a date. show you a good time.”

“no, thanks,” you said calmly. your siblings were watching intently. clarisse looked ready to step in if you needed it. you wondered what he’d said or done to her to put her on edge. then you realised it wasn’t what he’d done to her. it was what he was about to do to you.

his hand was on your thigh, gripping onto the bare skin by the hem of your shorts.

his hand was on your thigh.

gross.

you looked up at him, eyes sharp. you could hear luke shifting slightly behind you. “what are you doing?” you voice was deathly calm.

“showing you that i can show you a good time, princess.” his voice oozed honey—sickly sweet and sticky, like a fly trap. good thing you hated honey.

“how about i show you how many bones there are in the hand? by breaking every single one.” your voice was equally as saccharine sweet, but your eyes were glaring daggers into his and your jaw was set tight.

he just shifted his hand higher. you tried to push him off but he was strong. annoyingly strong.

he tutted. “come on, sweetheart. you’re gonna make a scene.”

you finally managed to peel his hand off your skin. “i’ll make a scene, alright. get off me and leave me alone. and while you’re at it, leave my sister alone too.”

he raised his hands, a sickening, sleazy smirk on his face. “i was just being nice, princess. you and your sister need to relax. you especially. i can help you relax.”

“oh, i’d love that. you know how i relax?” you tilted your head mockingly, eyes hard. “i punch my enemies in the face.”

he laughed. “you’re cute. now, come on. it’s not like you’ve got anything going for yourself. i mean, you’re hot, sure, but no guys ever gonna look at you when they realise how much of a bitch you are. not like i will.”

you rolled your eyes and stood up. it was time to go and sit by luke. it grated at you, but if he wouldn’t listen to you, maybe he’d listen to another guy.

he didn’t let you leave. his hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back to him as he stood up too. you were chest to chest with him. he towered over you, at least six inches taller. you stepped back, but he pulled you in by your waist and laughed.

“look at how good we look together,” he smirked. “i could show you—“

you punched him in the stomach. he doubled over, finally letting you go, so you kneed his diaphragm. he gasped for air as you stepped back. your friend chris rodriguez whistled appreciatively.

“touch me, or anyone here, ever again and i won’t just hurt you.” you hissed at him. “i’ll beat your ass, then i’ll drag you past the boundary and leave you for the monsters. got it?”

he nodded, still hunched over.

“good boy,” you grit out.

“fucking bitch,” he grunted.

your eyes darkened, but you didn’t do anything. your siblings were right behind him, all ready to drag him away. “good luck walking tomorrow, andrew.”

“good luck finding a guy stupid enough to fuck you,” he scorned.

you laughed. “hey, luke?”

“yeah, babe?” he stepped down beside you, his hand settling on your hip and pulling you gently into his side. andrew faltered at the sight. he probably hadn’t even realised luke was up there.

“are you stupid enough to fuck me?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “oh, i’m way past stupid.”

you didn’t care about any of your sibling’s bets anymore. you didn’t care that people thought you hated each other. you especially didn’t care that everyone was watching. you kissed him. and in front of the whole camp, he kissed you back.

your siblings groaned in disappointment, knowing their betting days were over, but you didn’t care. you smiled the stupidest smile ever as you pulled away, feeling like you’d just had your first kiss all over again.

“what?” he asked quietly.

“nothing.” you shook your head. “just glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

after months of kissing behind buildings, pretending to fight in public and avoiding each other so people wouldn’t find out, it felt honestly freeing to kiss him in the open.

he kissed you again as your siblings dragged andrew away. “and all it took was an asshole.”

“thanks for not stepping in,” you said. “i had it handled.”

“oh, i know you did. i was more than happy to watch you destroy his ego.”

“good, because if you had stepped in—“

“i’d be going home in an ambulance?” he smiled.

“no, you’d be going home in a hearse.”

“ah, my bad.”

as the campfire kept burning, you sat down with luke. your legs were pressed against his and his arm was around your waist. there wasn’t much that you liked more than tearing boy’s egos down, but being with luke castellan was definitely one of those few things.

[maidragoste]

I always knew you would come

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

another part of Daemon's Wife au

Summary: You think your husband is going to be angry with you for going to the Stepstones but he surprises you.

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥰🥰💖💖

If you have ideas or thoughts for this series you are welcome to share them in my inbox

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

You paced back and forth inside Daemon's tent as you waited for him to arrive. You were ready to argue with him. You had plenty of anger after listening to the scolding of your father, your uncle, and the concern of your brother, you had deludedly hoped that they would be happier to see you. You wouldn't care what they or your husband told you, you wouldn't come home. You were determined to stay on the Stepstones until the war was over. You couldn't sit idly by for another year in Driftmark and wait for your family to return.

You stopped as soon as you saw Daemon enter. You felt your heart speed up. The first thing you noticed was that he now had his hair a little shorter. You hadn't seen your husband for almost three years. There wasn't a day that you hadn't missed him. You always looked forward to his letters and you hoped that one day one of them would tell you that the war was over but that letter never arrived so you decided to act. You hoped that with your dragon you could be of help because at this rate you doubted that King Viserys would deign to help with anything.

You expected Daemon to yell at you about what the hell you were doing here and that you should be home taking care of your son, like your father had, but to your surprise he strode towards you and pulled you close to him as he smashed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes feeling how all the tension and frustration you felt minutes before disappeared before the warmth of his lips. You kissed him with the same devotion hoping he could feel how much you love him. Your husband's hands left your waist and you were about to complain at the loss of his touch when you felt his hands caressing your hair, he caressed it so softly and with so much affection that for a moment it made you want to cry. You had been deprived of this. You had missed him so much. You wanted it all to be over so he could bring you and Baelon home again.

"How is Baelon?" Daemon asked, breaking the kiss but still stroking your hair. He had spent nights dreaming about you, dreaming about the baby you told him in letters that looked like him, dreaming about waking up next to you and admiring your beauty while caressing your hair, like he used to do before he left for the war.

You were supposed to go to Stepstones with him but then you two found out you were pregnant then you stayed in Driftmark with your mother. Daemon could not accompany you during the pregnancy or be at the birth of his child. But you still decided together on your baby's name by correspondence. At first, you weren't sure about naming him Baelon because you were afraid that Viserys and Rhaenyra would be upset with you for naming your baby after the son and brother they both lost that caused Queen Aemma's death, but your husband told you that he only wanted to name him Baelon in honor his father and you couldn't refuse.

Daemon was also unable to witness how his son grew up, he missed his first steps, his first words, and his name days. Even though he had never met him, he cared about his son.

"He's fine. “He drives me and mom crazy because he doesn't stop running,” you responded with a smile. The affection in your voice was evident and I could see the love in your eyes. “He's obsessed with his dragon like you” you mocked earning a small pinch on your waist and making you let out a small snort “If I don't let him see his dragon before going to sleep he gets in a bad mood” Now he could hear the pride in your voice, evidently his son was not having a hard time bonding with his dragon.

“Definitely a Targaryen,” Daemon said, also feeling proud like you. He wanted to see with his own eyes how his son bonded with his dragon and teach how to care for him, he wanted to be there for Baelon.

“Prince Daemon, they are waiting for you,” a man's voice was heard outside the tent.

“I'll be there in a few minutes,” he responded and it didn't take long for you to hear the man's footsteps walking away. “Come on, we have a war to plan,” he said after giving you one last kiss.

“Do you want me to go to the war council with you?” you asked, clearly surprised.

“Of course, you came to fight with us right?” the prince said without understanding your reaction, gently taking your arm to prevent you from walking away.

"Yes, I came to fight" you responded instantly but you were still confused that he would accept your participation on the battlefield so quickly. "So, you're not upset and you're not going to send me back home to Baelon? You're going to let me fight?"

"I'm sure you once told me that you don't need my permission to do anything," your husband reminded you, arching an eyebrow, still not understanding what you were getting at with this.

"It's true," you said, feeling confident again. "And I'm glad you're clear about that, it's just that I was ready to argue with you. I thought you would tell me the same nonsense that my father and my uncles told me, that I shouldn't be here, that Now I'm a mother so I should go home and take care of Baelon, that's what a good mother would do, that I shouldn't fight, that they don't need my help or Nightwing, that Caraxes and Seasmoke were enough" when you started talking about your family You looked like you were spitting poison.

Daemon frowned, noticing that behind your anger was also pain. He felt furious that someone dared to tell you that you were a bad mother. The worst thing was that it was your own family. He wanted to cut out their tongues but he knew that despite your anger with your family you would never want them to suffer any kind of harm.

"They are idiots for refusing your help, for thinking that you would listen to them and return to Dirftmark without hesitation," he declared. "I'm sure you fight better than some of your father's bannermen and would make them cry on the battlefield," he said. making you smile. You knew he wasn't lying to you just to make you feel better. Daemon was not that kind of person. He didn't give fake compliments and besides every time the two of you faced each other he had never been afraid to be harsh with you "I always knew you would come sooner or later. I know you and I know that you can stand to sit around doing nothing, the birth of Baelon wouldn't going to change that. Besides, it's not like you left our son alone and helpless, you left him with your mother. Don't let those idiots get into your head, you're a good mother" he emphasized the last words, wanting you not to have any doubt about what he thought.

"I'm glad I married you," you said without any shame, happiness lit up your eyes and your smile was warm.

Neither of them knew who was the first to bring their faces closer to the other but it didn't matter because their lips met again. Daemon kissed you as if it were a necessity as if you were the air he needed to breathe and you loved it. You want to stay in his tent and satisfy the insatiable hunger you feel for him. But you can't, there are already people against you staying and if Daemon missed the war council then they would blame you. You would just give them one more reason to keep insisting that you come home.

"Come on, we have a war to plan," you said breaking the kiss and tucking a loose strand of hair behind Daemon's ear.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @diorchaiamet @partypoison00 @camy85

@rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @lizlovecraft @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie

@partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @thelastemzy @labellapeaky

For some reason tumblr won't let me tag them: @Snileykiddie08 @Bugheadskid @lauufeysonnn @sabi127 @cicaspair418 @sydneyyyya @Thanya-Targaryen @Sakuramochi1921 @marytargaryen @targaryenmoony @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @salmonella22 @Illzarr

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist

[flowerandblood]

The softest whisper (Oneshot)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x servant! • female ]

[ warnings: virginity loss, oral sex, angst, smut, cheating, toxic relationship, toxic behaviour, objectification ]

[ description: Aemond, on the orders of his brother, arrives in the Red Keep and notices that a new, young girl has appeared among his servants. Wanting to fill his time, he summons her to his chamber and forces her to read to him. His time to return to Harrenhal is approaching, and he is less and less willing to part with his new property. Sexual tension, angst, very dark Aemond. ]

This oneshot have an alternative ending: The dearest embrace

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

My other works: Masterlist

____

Ever since the war began he had felt that piece by piece he was losing parts of himself; even the knowledge that Alys would bear him his child, his bastard son, didn't brought him joy or solace.

He felt both contentment and disgust at the thought of his heir from an illegitimate bed.

He thought the gods were laughing at him from the heavens, mocking his hypocrisy.

After Luke's death, there was no turning back.

He returned to King's Landing reluctantly, at his brother's request – he preferred to stay in Harrenhal, pressing Alys with his body against her bed, the brutal thrusts of his hips pushing apart her hot, slick interior, always welcoming him home.

Alys was an intelligent, witty woman, and her visions made her mysterious and disturbing in his eyes.

He was attracted to her.

There was a darkness in her as deep as his own.

His brother, however, decided that he was to attend the next meeting of the Small Council and report personally on how the battles were going, what their situation was like in the north of the kingdom.

Therefore, he arrived on Vhagar late at night and informed his servants that he wanted to take a bath.

His order meant that his other servants who were already asleep had to clothe themselves in haste and rush to him, filling his tub with hot water.

He watched their movements with a blank stare – his pupil narrowed like a cat's when he saw some new young girl, clearly just being apprenticed to her job – her gaze drowsy, struggling to listen to what the other, older woman was saying to her as the other two ran around them.

In her haste, she had forgotten to put on her white coif, her hair pinned around her head in a tight braid, short strands of her hair framing her soft, flushed face.

She did not look at him once.

He saw her the next morning too, this time already dressed appropriately – she was helping other girl to place the dishes prepared for him on silver platters.

She was completely focused on her task and paid no attention to him, so he had no fear of being caught closely observing her long eyelashes and eyebrows, her flushed cheeks and her full, fleshy lips, her pleasantly rounded chin and her softly shaped nose.

She smiled a lot even though her companion was terrified, as if she did not understand well who sat before her.

It seemed to him that she lived in a world of her own, detached from his worries.

He waited like a predator for an opportunity when she would come to him alone and it happened two evenings later.

He commanded some books to be brought to him from the library that he wanted to return to and read again. He sat in front of his fireplace in his richly decorated wooden chair and glanced out of the corner of his eye towards the door when he heard it open – his new servant holding three thick volumes in her hands walked up to the table next to him, placing them there in complete silence, then bowed, wanting to leave.

"– Your Grace –" She said softly, warmly, lightly, and turned away immediately – he heard his low voice echoing in the silence of his chamber.

"You should ask if I need anything else." He said coldly and matter-of-factly, his pointing finger tapping rhythmically against his armrest; he sat with his legs crossed, sprawled comfortably in his seat, looking at her expectantly.

She stopped in mid-step and then looked at his face for the first time – he saw terror in her gaze, but not caused by him or his appearance, but by what he had said, by the fact that she had committed a discourtesy, that she had done her job badly and her superior or he could punish her for it.

She swallowed loudly, turning to face him, folding her hands in front of her in a gesture of humility, lowering her gaze to the stone floor in front of her.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I am just learning. Is there anything else you need?" She asked softly – she was breathing nervously, her breasts hidden beneath the thin material of her top gown rising and falling quickly, her lips clenched into a thin line.

He liked how humble and submissive she was, how much she wanted him to be pleased with her; he hummed under his breath, lifting his chin higher, curious.

He thought he would have a little fun at her expense for his own entertainment.

"Can you read?" He asked in a low, deep, slightly hoarse voice. He saw that she gave him a quick, surprised glance, but then lowered her eyes again, apparently reminding herself that she was not supposed to do that.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Mmm. Who taught you that?"

"My father."

"The same one who sold you here?"

He saw her brow furrow in pain, her body flinch, her eyes big, she began to breathe through her mouth.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Mmm."

There was silence between them – he stared at her, rubbing the fingers of his hand against each other, and an idea occurred to him.

He liked her voice, soft, girlish, warm, calm, light; she was very young, younger than he was. He squinted his eyelids at the thought that she appeared to him to be the complete opposite of Alys.

"I want you to read me the fourth chapter of the Great History of the North. Take the book and sit on the floor next to me." He commanded; she looked at him in shock and lowered her gaze thoughtfully, her face red with stress.

They both knew it was indecent, that she shouldn't stay so long in his chamber if she didn't want to arouse suspicion about the nature of their relationship, however, he didn't give a fuck.

He tapped his finger loudly on the armrest, impatient that she had hesitated so long.

"I'm waiting. Do you want to annoy me?" He asked coolly – she shook her head quickly, clearly horrified by this vision, and walked on her trembling legs to the table, the scent of grey soap and some other scent, her own, coming to his nostrils.

Alys always smelled of oils, lavender and cloves.

She picked up the right book and, with an uncertain slow step, sat down by the fire opposite him, sitting on her knees, opening the book on her thighs, her hands trembling as she flipped page after page looking for the chapter he had mentioned.

"Pull off your coif." He commanded; she gave him a frightened, pleading look – only now did he see how large her eyes were, surrounded by a veil of her long lashes. He thought they added to her charm and innocence.

"My superior said I must not…"

"Pull it off."

She lowered her head obediently, swallowing loudly, breathing heavily through her nose, her trembling hands raised uncertainly, pulling the white cloth off her head.

Her dark hair was tangled in a braid wrapping around her head in the same way it had been before, unruly short strands at the sides of her face.

"Read." He ordered, and she nodded, going back to finding the right page. When she found it she grunted loudly, licking her lower lip dry with stress as she tried to calm her breathing.

She didn't dare look at him, all red, her eyebrows arched in horror and helplessness – she was obviously afraid he would do something more to her.

He thought that she must surely have heard stories of what his brother did to his servants.

"It is well known that Winterfell was built not as a re...representative castle but as a fortress, s-so the construction of its walls is several layers, that is, consisting of three hoops, the last of them the thickest, composed of stones. The windows in it are not large, giving the enemy no chance to assault with their help or to be the target of cross...crossbow...crossbowmen. For this reason there is only one gate leading into the fortress, protected by several layers of thick oak wood, reinforced with iron fittings, impossible to be destroyed by infantry or armed army."

He closed his eye, spreading himself out comfortably, feeling that somehow her warm, soft voice soothed him, the strong pounding of his heart began to slow down. He listened to her, analysing what she was reading and at the same time falling asleep, the fire burning in the fireplace enveloping him making him feel safe, his muscles slowly beginning to relax.

She had read to him every day since that evening, at his request.

He would always call on her after the Small Council meeting was over, pouring himself some wine, and she would take the book from the table beside him without a word, sitting down in the same place as always. Everytime before she got down to reading she would pull off her coif and place it beside her feet, no longer even waiting for his order.

Subconsciously she knew that he derived some kind of pleasure from this essentially innocent negligee of her body.

It seemed to him that after he had let her go on the first evening without touching her or taking her by force she was no longer afraid of him – he even had the impression that the fact that she could read gave her pleasure since she had no time for it on a daily basis through her duties.

He didn't care who she was, what was her story.

He just wanted to get through time somehow before he returned to Harrenhal.

However, one evening as he sat, waiting for her, drinking wine thoughtfully, a completely different girl appeared in his chamber. He furrowed his brow, furious.

"I do not recall summoning you." He growled harshly – the girl lowered her gaze, ashamed and humiliated.

"It is the Queen's order, Your Grace, I −"

"− bring her here. Immediately."

After several minutes she stood again in his chamber – however, she did not approach him but looked towards him, trembling all over.

"Your Grace, please, I cannot −"

"Come here."

"I can't, Your Grace."

"Come here, I said."

"I can't, Your Grace, the Queen specifically ordered me to −" She paused and jumped in place, horrified when he pulled up suddenly with his eye wide open – within a moment he was in front of her, towering over her, and she lowered her gaze, terrified.

"I fucking hate to repeat myself. Do you understand?" He hissed, her breasts rising and falling in rapid, uneven breathing, tears of helplessness in her eyes – she was shaking all over playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture.

"I beg you, Your Grace, have mercy." She mumbled, falling to her knees before him, humbly lowering her head, on the verge of sobbing.

"Get up." He said coolly – she cried out loudly, burying her face in his hands. He pressed his lips together, looking down at her, her small, helpless figure curled in fear.

"Get up. You are mine. I decide your fate. Stop crying." He commanded, and she drew in a deep breath through her mouth, looking up at him with those big, terrified eyes, seeking reassurance that he would protect her, that he would not let her get hurt.

She sniffed loudly with her nose, wiping her cheeks red from crying, her face all swollen from tears, almost resembling the intense colour of her top dress; she rose with difficulty, not looking at him, standing in front of him as if waiting for a verdict, staring at his chest.

"Mmm."

He turned away, returning to his seat, taking a sip of wine, gazing into the fire – she moved behind him, repeating their ritual, sitting down by his feet, closer than usual, pulling her coif off her head, opening the book.

The next day he made it clear to his mother that she was not to interfere in the affairs of his servants ever again.

His own mother was afraid of him.

She who had always seen him as her greatest support could not look him in the eye.

He felt nothing at that thought.

The time for his return to Harrenhal was slowly approaching; when she came to him again he took a deep sip of wine before surprising her with his words spoken in a calm, deep tone.

"Get ready to travel. Tomorrow you leave with me for Harrenhal."

She looked at him in shock and swallowed loudly, shaking her head – he threw her one cool, menacing look and she curled into herself, looking at him again with those big, shining eyes.

She was so innocent.

"– Lady Rivers will murder me – please –" She mumbled pleadingly. He grinned under his breath and snorted involuntarily – she flinched all over and blushed as his hand went to her head and combed her hair as if he were stroking the fur of his beloved pet.

"Do not fret. I won't allow it."

As he flew on Vhagar, she travelled in one of the carts, like the rest of his possessions.

She was his property.

Alys greeted him with reserve; her abdomen on which she held her hand firmly rounded. He stroked it with a gesture he might call affectionate, thinking of the fact that inside her was his child.

His bastard offspring.

He saw her gaze fixed on the girl who stood far behind him, looking down at her legs.

"You let her into your heart." She said to him regretfully when they were alone in her chamber, standing over him by his chair, his hand wandering involuntarily over her pregnant stomach. He hummed at her words, amused that she was jealous, but did not reply.

He didn't need to explain himself to her.

She instead let him between her thighs, moaning and panting along with him, hurting him with her nails driven deep into his skin, between his brutal thrusts hissing that she hated him only to sob a moment later that she loved him – he came inside her hard, clenching his eyes, feeling relieved.

He stayed with her for the night, but in the morning he returned to his chamber and summoned his servant, ordering that he wished to take a bath.

She stepped into his chamber ashamed, surely having heard the sounds Alys was making during the night as he fucked her – she couldn't look him in the face.

He wondered if she imagined herself in her place and felt his cock throb hard in his breeches at the thought.

She oversaw the other servants who poured water into his tub, and then personally poured the oils he used into it.

Would she be very tight if he took her now?

Would she stifle her sweet moans if his length with each deep thrust of his hips would stretch her fleshy insides and fill her with his seed?

They were left alone.

She pretended not to see or hear him as he began to slowly undress – usually he made the servants leave before he removed his breeches, valuing his privacy and intimacy, but not this time.

She knew she couldn't leave without his permission so she stood, looking sideways, trying to pretend not to see that he was standing bare in front of her.

With a slow, unhurried walk, he stepped into the tub and sighed low, feeling the pleasant heat relaxing his muscles – he was tired after travelling for hours on Vhagar and was sore all over.

"Massage my back and shoulders." He commanded coolly, lying with his head tilted back, his eyes closed, his breathing calm.

He heard her swallow loudly, terrified that someone would catch them, knowing she shouldn't do that – he glanced at her with a look of defiance and saw in her eyes that she had given in.

She approached him from behind, with a gentle, light movement taking his hair out of her way. He murmured lowly, feeling her warm, soft fingers dig into his skin again and again, surprised at how determined she was, that she could do this properly.

Her hands were pleasant against his skin, finer than Alys, she had longer fingers – he felt her warm breath on his head, felt her watching him, felt her scent, all around them just the quiet splash of water at his every slightest movement.

He thought of how pleasant it would be to feel this small, soft hand down there, on his cock.

He was completely hard.

They both shuddered, and he felt her move away from him quickly, terrified, as the door to his chamber opened – he didn't have to turn to feel Alys' oils filling his nose.

"You may leave." She said to his servant, and he pressed his lips together at the thought that she dared to command her in his presence.

He heard her quick movement and after a moment she handed him his shirt and breeches, which he put on with an unhurried, lazy movement, not caring that the mother of his future bastard son could see how ready his cock was to fuck this little girl.

"Stay." He said lowly, standing up from the water, extending his hand to her.

"What is it?" He asked matter-of-factly, without even giving her a glance, tying his breeches, pulling his chemise into them. He saw out of the corner of his eye Alys stroking her stomach in a nervous gesture.

"I wanted to speak with you in private. About my vision." She said lowly. He glanced at his servant, at her pale, terrified face – she was trembling all over, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes full of tears.

He walked over to the chair and sat down in it, looking at her expectantly.

"You may leave." He said softly. She bowed and left with quickly, closing the door immediately behind her.

"Speak."

Alys looked down at him, her lips tightened, her green eyes piercing him.

His lady, his Alys, his insufficient lover, his attempt to fill a void that could not be filled.

"I saw danger coming from the east, great and powerful like a storm cloud. I saw you in the skies. I saw you being devoured by water." She said in a trembling voice – he furrowed his brows, analysing quickly what she had said.

I saw you being devoured by water.

She knelt before him, laying her head on his thigh, and he stroked her long black hair.

"Don't leave me." She whispered.

The word that Daemon wanted to face him, that he was challenging him to a duel spread throughout the fortress.

He knew he could not refuse.

He was terrified.

He feared death.

He locked himself in his chamber despite Alys' pleas to let her in.

If she hadn't told him all this, he wouldn't have been so frightened.

If she hadn't told him he was going to die, he might have had hope.

He summoned her in.

As soon as she walked into his chamber, he ordered her to lock the door behind her, which she did.

She stood before him, looking at him with her eyes wide open, tears under her eyelids, her body shaking all over.

Of course she knew.

He was sure she would take the gold and run away, as she should.

"Spend the night with me or leave. On the table lies a sack of coins that belongs to you. You are a free woman. Take as your husband someone you deem worthy of you."

But she stayed.

She let him undo her hair, allowed him to undress her, to brush with light, butterfly kisses her soft, long neck.

Never before in his life had he been so affectionate to anyone, his hands had never touched anyone with such reverence, never had he cared so much to do it slowly.

First he kissed her on the mouth, gently and tenderly, barely touching her lips, his fingers entwined in her soft curls – she only sighed and stroked his cheek, looking at him dreamy.

He thought that this night, the last night of his life, they would be equals, that he would take her tonight like his wife, only to make her a widow tomorrow.

"Shhh." He hushed her as his mouth clamped down on her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it – she squirmed beneath him and moaned sweetly, finding the courage to stroke his hair, his bare shoulders and back, driving him mad.

He sank his face between her thighs, forcing his tongue again and again between her slick folds – she didn't care if anyone heard her, her sobs loud, helpless and full of pleasure, his nose and thumb with painfully slow, circular motions teasing her pearl, dragging out her fulfilment.

"− easy now − just a little more −" He hummed between the sticky, loud clicks of his tongue – her tiny fingers clenched in his hair, her thighs spread before his face, locked in his hands hot with exertion.

"− please − please −" She mewled helplessly, her gaze clouded, her mouth wide open.

He pulled away from her, jerking his length already dripping with his precum of with a few light strokes, guiding it's fat, pink head to her hot entrance, sticky and wet from her moisture.

She was painfully tight.

He felt like he was tearing her apart from the inside.

She was almost screaming as he thrust inside her, panting along with her, saying 'just a little more'; 't's almost in'; 'shhh, sweet girl'.

They kissed tenderly as he with sure, deep, steady pushes of his hips claimed her maidenhood – he stretched her fleshy, slick muscles with his swollen cock throbbing in pleasure, her blood and their shared moisture running down his thighs and her buttocks, slapping loudly against each other.

"− gods, help me −" She mumbled beneath him, crying in terror and pleasure at the same time, not knowing what was happening to her body, all welted and sweaty, beautiful, innocent, vulnerable, her hands clenched tightly on his buttocks.

He looked down at her, panting and moaning along with her, never having experienced anything like this with a woman before – their bodies seemed to him to be one, clinging to each other, her soft breasts pressed against his chest, he could feel her hard nipples rubbing against his skin with each of his thrusts.

He sped up his pace, forcing her body to give in, to not resist him, his forehead pressed against hers, his tongue deep in her throat.

"− such a sweet girl − hm? − my pretty little servant − makes her prince feel so fucking good − such a tight, hot cunt −" He exhaled, licking her lips, feeling how, at his words, her walls began to clench against him greedily; he heard Alys voice outside his chamber, heard her pounding on the door, heard her crying, but he only chuckled, neither of them was able to stop now.

"− let her hear how good you feel with me − I'm going to come inside you a few times, hm? − just in case, to make sure I've filled you properly −" He cooed, and she cried out loudly at his words, distraught at how strong and delightful fulfilment shook her body – she tried to push him away, her cheeks red from exertion and tears, asking him to stop, overstimulated, but he just came deep inside her at the sound of her sweet, helpless voice.

"− that's it − take it − just like that, don't fight me −" He murmured feeling her body begin to relax, no more sound or crying could be heard behind the door, only silence.

He had thrust his length into her core all night, turning her into a babbling mess – he felt like he had never been more of one with anyone, that he had never been closer to what he could call peace.

He only slid out of her in the morning, watching with satisfaction as a trickle of his pearly spend flowed out of her – he looked down at her, tying his breeches, her gaze directed towards him hazy and absent, yet tender and warm.

"Don't think about me when it's all over." He said softly, her brow arched in pain, tears of despair in her eyes.

Alys bid him farewell with a tender, distraught kiss full of pain, hatred and love.

"Run away from here as fast as you can. With me gone, no one can protect you from her wrath." He said lowly, slipping his boots on his legs and walked out, leaving her alone, informing other servants to prepare his armour for him.

In response he kissed her forehead and stroked her lower abdomen, thinking hopefully as he turned away, walking towards Vhagar to soar through the skies on her for the last time in his life, that his little servant was already far away.

_____

This oneshot have an alternative ending: The dearest embrace

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

[imtryingbuck]

No Better Than My Husband

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Readers husband is having affairs, so reader does the same

Word count: 1,513

Warnings: Angst and Fluff, swearing? Cheating, Sharon being a bitch. Terrible writing as always.

Masterlist

Y/n’s husband really thought he was being smart about his indiscretions, not that his affairs shocked her, but he truly believed she was some dumb naive housewife due to believing this, he started getting sloppy. At first it pained knowing her husband was entertaining another woman whilst she was at home alone, being nothing but faithful and devoted to him. When his first mistress found out that she wasn’t the only side piece he had she had messaged Y/n all the pictures, videos and messages between the pair, it was meant to hurt her but she already knew her husband was seeing other women behind her back.

The thought had crossed her mind at first to confront him but she knew better, she knew no matter how many tears she showed him he wasn’t going to change. She watched her mum do the exact same thing with Y/n’s dad, he promised her he’d stop and it wasn’t until his untimely death that she had found out that not only was he still seeing the other woman but was engaged to her and the cherry on top was that he had borne a 8 year old son.

So no she wasn’t going to confront him, leaving him to truly believe that his beautiful naive wife didn’t know that when he said he was having a business meeting it was actually him fucking another woman.

However what he didn’t know was that whilst he was having these “business meetings” she was in the arms of another man.

The first time she slept with Bucky she ran to the bathroom to puke up, she felt disgusted, she felt like she was the worst of the worst. The second time she slept with Bucky the guilt was still there but not as strong as before. Now after every time of meeting up with him she didn’t care, she loved the attention he showered her with but most of all she craved just being touched and not necessarily in a sexual manner.

Bucky thought she was truly the most beautiful woman to ever exist, he found out she was married after he gained the confidence to talk to her. The shock and anger he felt was showed on his face when she spoke about her husband’s affairs. Trying to get his head around the idea of how man could have someone like Y/n as a wife just to cheat on her truly baffled him.

Now Bucky lays there trying to catch his breath after spending nearly two hours of happily pleasuring over and over again the goddess that he has the upmost respect for. He knew he was in deep with her, he knew that it wasn’t just sex for him and he hoped that it was the same for her.

Keeping a soft gaze at her ever so slightly trembling form he broke the silence “So I was thinking, don’t give me that look missy, I was thinking about introducing you to my friends? They’ve heard everything about you and they want to meet you but only if your comfortable with that”

“I don’t know Buck, you told me they know I’m married and they probably think the worst of me”

“No baby they don’t, I told them about him and how he’s cheating on you none of them judge you for doing the same”

Shakily sighing “okay but only if your really sure about this”

“Never been more sure beautiful”

They share a kiss which quickly grew more intense. Bucky was more than happy to continue showing her affection and love.

The day had arrived to meet her lovers friends and to say she was nervous was an understatement the thought of them judging her scared her, she knew she wasn’t a bad person she did anything for anyone. Never in a million years did she think that the man who took a vow to love and be faithful to her would break said vow, but here she was five years into marriage her husband betraying her with four women - that she knows of - she was tired of being mocked and treated like a fool so she decided to return the favour. However now she was in too deep, she had fallen in love with Bucky. So she truly hoped his friends didn’t judge her too much.

Bucky had agreed to meet her outside the cafe that was close by the tower, they shared a kiss and made their way to where his friends were. The whole time Bucky was reassuring Y/n that it was going to be okay.

Standing in front of the Avengers was intimidating but when they greeted her happily the nerves that was settled throughout her body melted away. Conversations flowed effortlessly laughs were shared, that was until Sharon spoke up from where she was sat. “So Y/n Bucky says you’re married? At first I was shocked that he could sleep with a married woman but now meeting you I understand”

Y/n felt uncomfortable under Sharons intense gaze, she definitely didn’t like her tone. After shifting to try and get comfortable she finally found her voice “My husband has been cheating on me for a long time, I never intended to do the same but I met Bucky one night and one thing led to another and well now I’m here” ending her sentence with a shy chuckle. Bucky took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting gesture.

“Don’t you feel slightly ashamed of yourself? Because you should”

Not knowing how to reply she just looked down at her clasped hands, of course she felt ashamed of herself, of course she hates herself for being no better than her husband. It was one moment of weakness that if she had to do it all over again, she would. She would do it all over again without a second thought and that, that is what she hated about herself.

The room had fallen into an uncomfortable silence, everyone was pretty annoyed with Sharon for spoiling such a happy time. The looks that were shot at Sharon made Y/n feel like she had done something wrong. She never wanted to cause any problems with the group of friends. A few beats passed when Y/n glanced at her watch then bent down to get her bag and coat that was at her feet, her movements caused Bucky to jump up. “You don’t have to go” 

“I do, I need to get home” turning to the group “it was an absolute pleasure meeting you all, thank you for a great time, bye” Not listening to the protest coming from Bucky and his friends, she walked out the room to the elevators. Bucky had ran inside just before the doors had closed.

“Baby ignore Sharon, she’s just being rude for no reason. I’m sorry” 

“It’s fine Buck. Honestly. I need to let you know now that I’ve finally filed for divorce. I’ve already packed my stuff and moved into an apartment. He’s on a “Business” trip ah. I really feel hard for you Buck, I’m sorry” The shiny doors came open and she all but ran out before Bucky could reply.

Four months had pasted since Y/ns confession in the confined space of the elevator, four months without speak or seeing the super soldier. The messages and phone calls that came from Bucky and her now ex-husband had gone off none stop. The messages from her ex started off with him apologising and begging her to come back, he’ll change. Which turned to him taunting her, blaming her for his actions. When it came to their divorce to be finalised he had showed up with mistress number 4 hanging off his arm, he thought this move would hurt her but all it did was make the judge give her way more money than she originally asked for.

Bucky’s messages consisted of apologies too, along with pleading her to meet him. But was also filled with him telling her he loved her.

One Sunday the rain was pouring down heavily in the late afternoon when a knock on the door startled Y/n, trying to calm her racing heart she made her way to the sound. Opening her door her heart stopped.

“W-what are you doing here Buck? How did you find me?”

“Nat”

“Okay? Still didn’t answer the first question”

Instead of answering her Bucky walked straight up to her, touching her face with freezing and delicate hands he searched her eyes for any reason to pull away. Finding none he moved closer and closer till his cold plumb lips touched hers. Kissing one another always took their breaths away, no matter how many times they’ve done it. Reluctantly pulling away he rested his forehead on hers and smiled.

“Be mine and I’ll be yours” Bucky’s heart was hammering rather hard inside of his chest awaiting her response, and instead of verbally responding she pulled him into the apartment letting him kick the door behind them.

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[writersblockiskillingme]

delete this if you find it weird or confusing 🙏

But headcanons of what snow (old) would act like if he saw the granddaughter of his first love that he betrayed or something , like she looks exactly like her and she’s been chosen for the games

Reminder of His First Love | Coriolanus Snow Headcanons

Warning/s: Old!Snow, mentions of death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: OMG THIS IS AMAZINGG!! I really tried and I truly hope that I did this justice it deserves and I'm sorry if this is not what you had on mind. Enjoy!

So you're a granddaughter of one and only songbird, Lucy Gray Baird.

After she escaped form Snows clutches, she made it look like she was dead just so he could leave her alone forever.

Her heart broke from his betrayal.

She moved to the furthest part of the District 12 once she returned back home.

She tried to live her life to the fullest after everything that happened.

Later on she married a nice man from her District and they had a son.

She sadly passed away not long after.

However, her spirit lived on and passed itself upon her dear granddaughter who she sadly never met.

She would've been proud if she knew you.

Your father always told you that you were your grandmother's clone.

And boy was that true.

Your face, your hair, your voice, the way you carried yourself... everything was just like Lucy Gray.

Your mom always used to joke that she was reincarnated in came back as you.

And just like your grandmother, you got picked for the Hunger Games as a female tribute from District 12.

President Snow was sipping on his tea as he watched the reaping ceremony and he could swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment once he saw you in a colorful dress as you stepped up.

He tried to not think of Lucy Gray Baird for a long time, now imagine his shock when she stepped onto that stage once again.

Once the interviews came and you were interviewed by Caesar Flickerman a usual question came up.

"What is your talent?"

You stopped to think for a moment and answered without hesitation.

"I can sing." You smiled at him and then looked at the crowd. "I know that it may not help me much in the arena, but I'm really good at it."

Snow thought that you proved that, alright.

You formed alias whith Foxface in the arena.

As she died you held her in your arms as you sang her to sleep.

"No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..."

Snow was frozen in his seat.

During the games, he found it hard to watch them somehow.

It was perfectly clear that Lucy Gray came back to haunt him and destroy him.

And boy did she do exactly that.

He never would have thought that Lucy Gray's daughter would become the leader of the rebellion.

He should've explained it, though.

The rebells won and you were supposed to be the one to execute Snow.

The words that you told him once you met up with him before his execution echoed in his mind until the moment he died.

"I am absolutely repulsed by you."

With that, Lucy Gray's clone left him speechless.

He couldn't believe that after all those years she still affected him.

But you now what they say, you never forget your firsts.

Pretty soon he was tied up against the pole as you stood a few feet away from him.

"You're as pure as the driven snow." You mocked him before you let the arrow fly, ripping through the air.

It seems like Lucy Gray's mockingjays did harm him after all.

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[staystraykay]

TokyoRev Dad's: Baby's First Words

Sup Freaks! Sorry I've been very MIA lately. Had a lot of things to take care of and sadly I just couldn't fit any time into writing for you guys. But I am back and ready to kick ass!

So, we're starting up the TR Dad series and we are starting strong. Baby's first words and the line up for the comback is:

Rindou---Ran---Mikey

So let's rock-n-roll buttholes!

RINDOU

“Come on, honey. Say mama.” You begged your nearly one-year old daughter. 

Raiya had begun babbling and baby talking a couple of months ago. She’s made up her own little words for things she wanted or needed, and sometimes you had to have your five-year-old son Rhys to translate for you. Like when she started calling her comfort blanket her shushie. You didn’t have a single clue what she had been crying for all day until Rhys came in and handed her the small purple blanket.

“You wanna say it. I know you do.” You said playfully, making her giggle and clap her hands together repeatedly. “Mmmah mmmmah.” You said slower, making a funny face to try and trick her into mimicking you. 

“Y/N?” You heard Rindou call out after you heard the door open and shut. 

“In Raiya’s room.” You answered before clapping you hands. “Ma ma. Come on, Rai. I know you can do it. Say ma ma.” 

“Hey, Angel.” Rindou hummed as he came into the room, blonde hair pulled half back, kissing the top of your head before joining you on the tiara rug. “Princess,” he cooed down at his daughter who was smiling and clapping.

“Hi Daddy!” Rhys came running into the room, launching himself onto his father’s back.

Rhys’s blonde hair was getting longer and along with his downturned eyes your sweet baby boy was looking more and more like his father every day. He even picked up on his dad’s death glare, which he mimics when he doesn’t want to do what you’ve asked.

“Hey buddy!” Rindou chuckled and reached his arm around to support the boys weight, carefully so he doesn’t fall. “Were you good for momma today?” He raised a brow and the little boy smiled and nodded his head.

“Yup.” He popped his p with a giggle.

“What about school?” Rindou pushed further.

“Green card all day.” Rhys said proudly with his chin held up. “Kouta had to move his card to yellow today.”

“Really? Why?” Rindou mocked a gasp.

You always loved that Rin was good with kids. Hell he was great with you even. So watching him be a dad, being a great father who was involved in his kids lives, well it made you fall deeper in love with him. When he had to work out of town he always called ever free second he got to talk to the kids, and with you. You were worried when you first found out you were pregnant with Rhys. You were only seventeen and rindou had barely turned eighteen when you found out. At the time you were afraid you were so young and he was involved in such harsh work you thought maybe he’d bail. But he hasn’t. Not for a single second once since the day you told him about Rhys. And when he found out about Raiya, and that it was a girl this time, oh you wish you could go back and relive the excitement and joy written all over his face. 

“He threw a car at Kenzia’s head.” Rhys sighed. “I told him not to, daddy. Is told him whats you told me. Haitani’s don’t hit girls, unless it’s their butt because they like that.”

“Rindou!” You gasp and smack his chest. “Rhys, honey, you don’t hit gets period.”

The five year old snorted and looked at his dad with a matching smirk and said, “ok momma.”

Oh when this boy gets older you have no clue what you’re going to do.

“Daddy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” You sigh and toss a half hearted glare at your husband. “Daddy’s been hit one too many times.”

“Da~” you heard your daughter attempt to mimic.

You snapped your attention back down to her in shock. “What was that? You got it, Rai.” You smiled. 

She looked up at you and Rindou with her big violet eyes. “Da~ Da~” she babbled again.

“Come on, Princess. Almost there.” Rindou encouraged her, picking her up.

“Da da.” She pushed out with a big smile on her face, giggling and shrieking in her little baby excitement. “Dada! Dada!”

“Yes! That’s right, Princess. Dada is right here!” He cheered and smirked over at you. “Suck it. She said dada first.”

You glare and roll your eyes. “So? Rhys said mama first and he was our first born, so I still get the crown.”

Rindou smirked down at you and leaned in to peck your lips. “Mmm,” he hummed as he pulled away, “you’ve always had the crown baby. My first princess.”

“Ew,” you laughed and pushed him away before getting up. “I’m the queen.”

“My queen.” He added with a sexy knowing look. “Maybe we can make another little Prince or Princess tonight when the kids go to sleep.” He muttered into your hair before picking up both kids and running out the room to play with them.

Good God, what have you done to deserve this amazing man?

RAN

“You’re hovering, Love.” Ran sighed as he walked in to the living room to see you and your son on the couch. 

For hours now you have been trying to get your son Kouta to say something. Anything. You were getting impatient and you wanted to hear him say something. You could have sworn he said ball this morning but Ran said it sounded more like a burp. So, here you were laid on the couch, son on your lap giggling because his momma was making funny sounds and faces.

“He’ll say something when he’s ready to. No need to rush the process.” He added before leaning over the back of the couch and booped your son on the nose with one of his long fingers. “Ain’t that right, kiddo? Tell momma it’s ok. You’ll talk when you’re ready.”

You glared before flatly saying, “Rhys said his first word yesterday.”

Ran snapped his eyes to you and said, “really? Rin didn’t tell me.”

You shrugged and went back to playing with your son. “Katie called me yesterday and told me.”

“What was it?” He asked you, brows raised.

You shrugged again as you made a funny face to make your son laugh. “She didn’t say. We were on the phone and I guess he said it just then because she rushed me off the phone.”

“So she didn’t tell you, you just happened to be on the phone with her when he said it.” He deadpanned. 

“She still would have called me.” You defeneded.

“Mmmm sure.” Ran continued to tease. “You’re not special.”

“Am too!” You snapped back, obviously letting him under your skin.

“Are not.” He amusingly continued. He always did love to see you all flustered and your feathers are ruffled up. It was satisfying to know that even after all these years and now a kid, he still could rile you up like this.

“Are so! Now take it back, Ran!” You pout, feelings slightly hurt.

You were a princess dammit. He better start remembering that.

“Mmmm no.” He sighed.

You looked to your son and faked cried. “Dada is so mean, bubba.”

Your one year old son looked at you and pouted. He looked to his dad and slapped his chubby little hand down on his dad’s head before curling up in your chest.

“Mama.”

Did he just-

“Aw, baby.” You cooed as he rubbed his little head further into your chest. 

“Mama.” He repeated and you were just about ready to pass out.

“Someone’s protective over their momma.” You cooed and squeezed the baby close to you. “Mommy’s big protector.”

“Hey now, you don’t have to protect her from me.” Ran pouted and joined you on the couch. “I love momma too.” He whined.

Kouta looked at his dad and then looked at you.

“I know. He’s so whiney.” You said to your son, teasing your husband.

“Y/N.” He whined again.

You roll your eyes and look at your son. “What do you say? Should we share cuddles with dada?”

“Mama!” Kouta cheered and snuggled further into your chest.

“Sorry, Ran. You heard the kid. Momma only. No dad.” You taunted and mocked a shrug.

“Yeah right.” He scoffed before scooping you both up into his arms and curling up with you two. He looked at his son who was giggling. “You can share momma. I had her first anyways.”

MIKEY

Kaito, your five year old son, was helping you today and keeping his ten month old sister Miyo distracted for you. You needed the help today honestly. Miyo had woke up at six this morning and she hasn't ran out of energy yet. And with Mikey off handling 'business' today you had absolutely no help.

So, while you worked on making lunch to take up to your husband, Kaito decided he would step up and keep Miyo distracted. He was currently playing peek-a-boo with her on the living room floor. You could hear the gurgling giggles in the kitchen and every once in a while a childish 'boo!'.

"Kaito, honey, please go get your shoes and grab your sister's too." You called from the kitchen as you started to wrap up the bento box up in the black fabric.

"Yes ma'am." He called back and you could hear his little feet thudding off to his room.

"Hi Princess!" You cheered in a fake excitement for your daughter. She turned her little head towards you, her blonde hair cascading down from two pigtails. She clapped her hands with a big smile on her chunky little face. "Wanna go see daddy?" You asked and she squealed. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Here you go, Momma." Kaito said as he handed you Miyo's pink sparkly shoes Mikey just had to get her.

You son sat next to you and slipped on his spiderman light-up shoes before standing up to help you get things together. He honestly was mommy's little helper. You're going to cry when he grows out of this.

"I got Miyo's stroller ready, Momma. Daddy's lunch is in the bottom." He stated before he went to grab your purse off the kitchen table.

"Ok, buddy. Thank you." You smiled as him after you finally wrestled your daughter's shoes on. "Come on, Princess. Let's go see daddy." You sighed and stood up to strap her into the stroller. "Kaito, when we get outside you jump on the back ok? We gotta get there quickly today."

"Yes ma'am." He called from the front door that he was already unlocking.

You finally got both out the door and closed the house up. The walk to Bonten wasn't far from your house. Mikey liked to stay close in case he needed to get to the office for an emergency and also he said hiding in plain sight was always the best option. What cop would believe a known mobster was living a block away from his office? You didn't necessarily agree with that, but if Mikey went in he'd be coming right back out anyways so you didn't care. Half the damn city was in Bonten's pockets.

Thank you Kokonoi.

"Momma, can I push the livater button?" Kaito asked, still not quite getting the hang of the word elevator.

You smile down at him and rub his pale blonde hair. "Sure. You remember daddy's floor number?"

"P for pimp house!" He cheered.

"Pent house. Pent." You quickly corrected.

Sanzu probably taught him that.

You're going to rip his pink hair out.

"Penthouse." Your son repeated, feeling out how the word formed in his mouth.

You sighed as pushed the stroller up to the elevator doors. "Ok, Kaito, push the button pointing up."

"Ok!" He cheered and jumped off the back of his sister's stroller. "Up!" He chanted as he did his little happy dance waiting for the elevator to come down. "Up! We goin up! Right, Miyo?" You adored how your son always thought to include his sister. It made you a proud momma.

Miyo squealed again which made both you and Kaito laugh.

The elevator dinged and before the doors could fully open up, Kaito was already jamming his small body into the metal box. You tried to reach out to grab him in case anyone was in there he didn't need to see, but lucky you it was only Kokonoi.

"Uncle Koko!" Kaito cheered before launching him at the Chanel dressed man.

He looked up from his phone and saw you before looking down to the mini version of his boss. "Kaito. Y/N." He nodded to you before bending down to talk to your son as you joined them on the elevator. "How's the prince today?" Koko asked kindly before ruffling your son's hair.

"I'm good. I helped momma today." Your son bragged before giving the filthy rich man a big smile.

"Did you now? How'd you do that?" He played along.

It was always so funny to you how well Kokonoi did with kids. Normally boujie rich people don't like kids. They think there gross or loud or sticky or hazardous or in most cases all that wrapped up in a three foot body. But oddly not Koko. He loved Kaito and Miyo both. You remember all the too nice Chanel baby clothes he tends to get for both of them. The damned wind suit your son had on is an overly expensive Nike set Koko gifted to him as 'clothes you can get dirty'.

"Lots of stuff! But I mostly play with Miyo for Momma, so she can get things done." Kaito smiled even wider as Koko laughed and told him how good of a job he was doing.

"You coming to see Mikey today?" Koko asked you.

You nodded and said, "He forgot to grab lunch, and I refuse to let you guys suffer. I know how mean he can be to you guys if he doesn't eat." You chuckled sympathetically.

Koko nodded knowingly. "I was just on my way to the convenient store to get him something. He's been testy today."

The elevator dinged and opened up to the bonten pent house. Your son dashed out quicker than either you or Koko could react and before you knew it your five year old was out of sight.

"Kaito, wait!" You called.

You really needed to explain to him why he couldn't just run around in daddy's office. Or come up with a kid friendly reason. Telling your five year old that his father is a mobster who's killed people and beaten other's in this very office until they were unrecognizable.

"Daddy!" You heard your son cheer.

"Kaito?" The panic and confusion in your husband's voice was clear. "Where's your mother?"

"I'm right here." You sighed as you rounded the corner to see Mikey on the couch along with the Haitani brother's who were passing a joint back and forth and Sanzu who was cleaning his gun. "Kaito, I have told you, you cannot run away from mommy." You sighed as you gripped your son's shoulder.

"Uncle Sanzu what's that?" Kaito ignored you and asked the pink hitman about his gun.

"Huh? This? A nine-"

"It's nothing you need to know." You cut him off and glared at the man.

"Put it away." Mikey growled lowly and the hitman nodded and quickly took the 9-milimeter to his office.

Before you could turn on the Haitani's you heard the sliding of the balcony doors and saw the two finishing their roll on the balcony. At least the two of them had some type of manors. Who the hell starts breaking down what a gun is to a five year old? It's not like he doesn't have kids of his own. He has a son just a couple years younger than Kaito at home.

"Hi, Princess!" Mikey cheered as he picked his daughter up our of her stroller. "How's daddy's favorite girl?" He cooed as she squealed and giggled.

"Excuse me?" You snapped and raised a brow.

Mikey stiffened and then looked at you with a wink before kissing your brow. "Besides you my love."

"Mmmhm. Sure." You mocked rolling your eyes. "Well, your favorite girl has kept momma up since six this morning. Just playing and playing." You smiled at your daughter and cooed.

"Has she? You gotta let momma get her sleep, Princess. She's mean to daddy if you don't." Mikey teased and you shot him a quick glare.

You both started playing with her when Kaito started playing with his miniature soccer set Mikey kept at the office for him. Said he always wanted to make sure his kids could come visit him and have something fun to do.

Miyo noticed her brother and started babbling for him.

"You see bubba?" You asked as Mikey bounced her.

She looked at you then back at Kaito and suddenly screeched out, "Bu-ba!"

You and Mikey both froze and then looked at each other.

"Did she just-"

"Uh huh." You nodded.

"Bu-Ba! Bu-Ba!" She called out again and again, getting better every time.

Mikey finally put her down and she crawled off quickly to her brother, calling him as she did so. You looked over to Mikey and saw the pout on his face.

"Manjiro," You warned, "let your son have this."

"But I wanted to be her first word. I'm dada!" He pouted aloud to you.

You rolled your eyes and pecked him on the lips. "You're always going to be her daddy and she's always going to be your princess. Her first word doesn't change that. And you should be happy your daughter loved her brother. Maybe they'll be close and we'll be some of those lucky parents with kids who get along."

"Doubt it." Mikey scoffed. "Emma and I use to fight from sun up to sun down. Enjoy this while you can."

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

𝑨𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒚 (Final) 𝑨𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

A/N: ...i'm sorry...🥲

Summary: The death of Luke takes it toll.

TW: Grief, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide,

←  Previous Part

Word Count: 2.5k (Not proofread, we die like men 🫡Im also just too tired I'll do it eventually🤣)

Quiet.

It was so quiet.

He waited. Aemond stood at the foot of your bed waiting...he knew by the look in your eyes that you somehow knew what happened.

He waits for some sort of reaction. For you to scream or hit him. Something...anything. Your silence deafining feeling heavy on his eardrums. Giving his brain room to think and go over what happened.

He silently begs for you to say something. To snap him out of his thoughts, to help get the images out of his head. He can't bare it. Any of it. He can see the anger that creeps on to your face, the pain that is starting to bloom in your heart. Can he survive you hating him? You not loving him knowing what he has done?

What has he done?

He's not sure how long you both stay in that silence. He knows once the first words are spoken its gone forever.

Finally willing himself to speak he takes a deep breath, licking his lip.

"...Iksan vaoreznuni."[I'm sorry] That is all he says, all he can say. What else is there really for him to tell you? He killed your brother. The war has started and you are trapped here. If you weren't a prisonner before you sure are one now.

"Get out..." that is all you can bring yourself to say, and he needs to hear. Despite everything in him willing himself to stay, to fight it out with you in hopes you would forgive him by the end. He knows that ending is unlikely. He's gone and ruined everything between the two of you and for what? Revenge?

He turns and leaves your chambers, his footsteps not making a sound. Aemond would not return to his chambers that night but instead would spend his time until the morning drinking his fill. Trying to push the face of Lucerys Velaryon out of his mind. Guilt eating him alive.

He sat on the ground in the old chambers of the boy he killed.

His face painted his memory. The last look Luke had before he was torn to shreds by Vhagar...by him.

He had not meant to kill Luke. He only wished to scare him, to envoke the same fear Aemond had felt when Luke took his eye. When he was ganged up on by 4 children, his family. Aemond only ever wanted to be one of them. To train his dragon alongside his nephews and brother. But instead he was mocked and ridiculed for not having one.

He watched his father dote on his sister and nephews and ignore the family he had wanted. The sons he wanted. Though Aemond disliked his older brother he knew that the balme for the way Aegon turned out was his father's.

He chose to take another wife. It was his choice to sleep with his mother, a mere child at the time and plant his seed in her. He wanted to a boy to carry on his name and when he got one he casted them to the side and named Rhaenyra heir and "his only child.".

How was Aemond to feel? How could he not feel resentment. Nobody was here for him. Nobody breathed for him or walked this earth in his name. He had no one.

Luke had everything he had ever wanted. Love.

Hollow. That was the only way to describe how you felt. The void the death of your brother caused was not one that could easily be filled.

Morning came and you remained in the same spot Aemond had left you in. You ignored your handmaids as they came to prepare you for the day. You ignored the sounds coming from outside your window.

Your heart hurt, your chest was heavy. Lucerys was gone. He was dead. Your poor mother...and here you were. Of no use.

Tears pricked your eyes once more. You begged them not too fall. You could not bare crying again.

Your servants returned once again. Leaving a tray of food. They begged you to let them get your washed and dressed but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

You thought of every moment you ever shared with Luke. He was a sweet boy. He was your brother. The tears that fell burned your cheeks. That hole in your heart grew ever so slightly.

Your sobs filled your room.

You remained in that spot for the entirety of the day. Tears no longer falling, your stomach empty and throat dry.

You do not remember when Alicent had come in. You do not remember her giving her condolences or trying to convince you to eat.

You didn't see Aegon smirking behind his mother next to his grandfather.

You do however remember the gentle touch of Helaena. She sat next to your her hand on yours. She was never one for touch. But even she knew you needed it.

You were in an ocean of your own emotions. Sorrow. Pain. Loss. Grief. Agony. It was pure agony.

How could you go on? You feel the love still in your heart when you think of Aemond. You were digusted by it. You still loved him even after what he had done. All while you hated him.

You hated what he has done not just to look but to the two of you. How could you both move on now? How could you marry your brother's killer. The chance at happiness, the chance at the life you always dreamed of having with him were gone.

There was anguish in your throat, all the way up to your chest.

How could you save this? How could you reverse what he has done?

You do not know when you stood up. You don't remeber slipping on your robes and your shoes.

When had it gotten so dark outside?

You opened your chamber doors. Your emotions controlling your feet as you walked towards the chambers accorss from yours. The hallway empty and quiet. Where were the guards?

You opened the doors and stepped inside. You looked around everything where it was the last time Luke was here. You walked over to a chest near the fireplace and opened it. All of his toys sat inside. His drawings, his memories...but he was not here.

He was in the water...you had to get him back...he was calling you to come and get him.

You returned back to your chambers and found a quill and paper. Your final words. You wrote three letters. One for Aemond, one for your mother and one for Jace. You got dressed quickly in your riding clothes with an added black cloak.

You left the letter for Aemond on your bed.

You opened the door again and peered out. The guards still not there you walked over to a different room. Your mother's. You knew of the passages inside it. You had listened to many stories of her escapades. You left her and Daemon's letters in here. You knew they would eventually come and would find them.

Your body moved on its own. Every twist and turn. You did your best to move slowly and cautiously. As one turn brought you down another hall you heard a footstep.

Halting all movements you looked ahead. Narrowing your eyes wondering what it was. You prayed its was a rat or some sort of animal.

You see another person turn the hall. But who it is does not send you running. Helaena looks at you shocked.

What is she doing here?

She does not say anything but lowers the hood of her own cloak and walks up to you. You don't get the chance to say anything before she pulls you into a deep hug.

She knows. Of course she knows. She must have seen it and came to say goodbye. Helaena wouldn't stop you. She loved you too much to keep you here nor to alert anyone of your escape.

With a final kiss on your cheek she walks past you and makes her own way down the passages.

It took you a while to locate Vermithor but you managed. He was excited to see you but could feel the pain you felt.

You got settled onto his back and rubbed his scaly back gently. You knew where you had to go. Where you wanted to be.

The flight was smooth but long. The sun had finally rised. You knew it wouldn't be long before the castle would notcie your dissapearence. As you finally arrived you spotted something on the beach. Something dark and large. You landed near it and as you got close your heart only broke more.

Arrax's bloody wing was nestled on the sand. For what felt like the millionth time you cried. Touching the wing gently. Evidence of the crim that took place only a day ago.

Luke was here...you could feel it.

You sit on the beach, enjoying a last moment of peace.

It is quickly broken as you hear the screech of a dragon. You look up to see the giant body of vhagar approaching.

"Don't be afraid." You turn your head back in front of you in shock. Luverys stands there. His clothes drenched. "It will be alright."

He turns around and begins walking into the water. You could hear Vhagar getting closer and Aemond calling your name.

Wasting no time you follow after Luke. Your shoes pooling with water. Aemond's only gets louder as he finally lands and rushes to get unbuckles to get to you.

Panic sets into his chest as he watches you get deeper in the water.

He finally manages to get out of the straps and climbs down vhagar. He kept his eye trained on you still screaming after you as you got deeper in the water.

You had not learned how to swim. It was not a skill you needed.

But you did not fight it. You did not fight it when water pooled in your lungs. You did not regret the choice. It felt warm and right. You opened your eyes. The dark water surrounding you as you sinked deeper and deeper into its depths.

Far down below you, you could see it. You could see Luke. He was looking at you with a smile. This was right. This was what you needed. Peace.

As quickly as the Dance of Dragons started it ended. When word of your death reached the ears of Daemon there was no stopping him. He had already sent blood and cheese to avenge Luke. But now. Now he had to avenge you. His daughter.

Your mother lost any hopes of this being a peaceful war. Of their being no bloodshed. She had already lost two of her children through no decision of her own. The Greens had started this and The Blacks would end it in red.

Daemon gathered everyone he could. Whoever could ride a dragon did. Dragonseeds were located and were quickly taught to claim and dragon. Though some died in failed attempts enough suceeded. There would be no waiting. And when word reached of Aegon's party he threw in honour Aemond for killing Luke and starting the war it only made him happier for the pain Aegon would soon feel.

It was easier then they thought it would be. The amount of dragons no match for theirs. The most shocking part? Vhagar and Aemond were nowhere to be found.

The Blacks seized the castle by nightfall. By the morning Rhaenyra took her place on the throne, her fathers crown nestled on her head. Daemon had found your letters and both him, Rhaenyra and Jace read them and by the end their eyes filled with tears. Though against Daemon's judgement Rhaenyra spared Helaena. Though it would do no good. Helaena already wracked with grief would later that day throw herself from Maegor's Holdfast and die on its spikes.

Alicent would die begging her old friend. Claiming she still loved her and that she regrets her choices. Saying she had no other choice and that she only did what was expected of her.

The word Dracarys would be said three times that day. Alicent, Aegon and Otto were all sentenced to die. Rhaenyra would not kill a child though. She could not bring it in her to kill Maegor or Jahaera, the two had already suffered losing their brother. She would raise them as her own.

It wouldn't be until a week after her official crowning that word of Aemond and Vhagar were to delivered to her and her family during their meal. They were all on edge assuming the prince would be coming to burn them inside the castle.

But were shocked when they were told where he was.

Aemond had throw himself into the waters of Storm's End. He had tried to stay alive, hoping he could do good by yoru memory but it was all to much. The death of luke and now you had taken its toll. And all he wanted was to be with you.

The memory of him desperately trying to find you in the water. Trying to swim down but the instinct of survival making him swim back up. He repeated the process over and over until he simply laid on the sand.

He knew the blacks would be coming for his family now. And honestly? He could not bring himself to care. What had his family ever done for him. You were all he ever wanted and needed and he couldn't see that. There was never a need for revenge cause he had already won. He had you. You would've been married to him, spent the rest of your life with him.

How could he not see that victory? It was an easy choice. He could stay and die alongside his family or die where you were. So that's what he did, he joined you in the cold salty waters and felt the same warm embrace you did.

He had left a letter of his own. For his big sister Rhaenyra. Her hands were shaky as she opened the letter, the eyes of her family on her. Her eyebrows furred together as she began reading Her eyes pricked with tears and a sob escaped her lips as she read the first line.

"To Queen Rhaenyra."

The letter detailed how sorry Aemond was. For what he had done. He begged her forgiveness for the death of both Luke and you. He blamed himself for it all and wanted her to know he never meant for it. Rhaenyra would quietly thank her brother and prayed to the Gods that he was at peace now.

Rhaenyra was named the "The Black Queen." but also "The Merciless.". She would sit the Iron Throne and Jace after her. She would never be the same though, happiness never rteurned to her as she would dream of her two beautiful children every day.

Surrounded by clouds light and warmth. You watch. You watch your family continue on, to build, to heal. You watch with a smile.

On one side of you your brother's hand in yours as he shares the same smile. And Aemond's arms wrapped around your waist on your other side. This was peace. And you didn't regret it, not for a moment.

You were no longer in agony.

A/N: Finally finished!! I hope it wasn't shit to yall but i cried while writing this. Recently re read "Smoke, Fire and Ash" by @asumofwords and it made my cry and put me in this mood.

To be honest I always imagined reader dying in this. I just had different ways. One was her offing herself after Aemond dies above God's eye. The next option was Aemond killing her himself while drunk and blinded by pain then he would off himself when he woke up. And lastly was both of them dying together, sharing a final moment before commanding their dragons to kill them.

I did not imagine them having a happy ending. Ecspecially since reader was alwyas conflicted about her family. She did not know what side to be on, and the death of Luke would only make her more confused. So it was easier for her to just not be anything at all.

Anywho. That's it! I hope y'all enjoyed this. I do plan on writing a full Aemond x reader series but i gotta plan it out properly!

Gen Taglist: @valeskafics. @thought--bubble

Agony Taglist: @vyctorya, @cluz1babe, @alexa554, @sinistersnakey1427, @glitteryeggalmondherring

*Bold means I could not tag you.

[tinyluvs]

Hii! Heard you crave fluff 🤭 (Please no angst, I'm not in the mood to bear it😭)

Something like Reader isn't feeling well physically (like just some flu) but Hotch and Jack being super caring and sweet, and just comforting her 😭

i gotchu, jack n hotch are my babiesss, enjoy !! ♡

you’re sitting in what can only be described as a blanket fortress when aaron comes back into the living room, bowls in hand. he stops to admire his sons handiwork

“look daddy!,” jack squeals, tiny hands shoving and tucking the edges of what you hope is the last blanket, around your sides, “all tuckered up,”

“tucked,” you correct him softly, hand brushing through his hair as he leans back and plops down next to you, “i didn’t know you had so many blankets,” you say to aaron, both of you fighting a laughing fit

aaron hands you and jack bowls, both piled high with ice cream, “neither did i,” he chuckles as he sits on your other side, his bowl resting on his knee, “how’re you feeling?” he asks

jack had given you his cough and cold, nothing serious though both boys are acting like you’re knocking on deaths door, “i told you, i’m absolutely fine!” unfortunately for you, your voice cracks and causes you to break out into a coughing fit

the child beside you gasps, springing into action by forcing you forward to pound his tiny hands against your back while his father just chuckles at you both

“thanks buddy,” you croak out with a feeble thumbs up when he decides you’re okay again. you simply don’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t choking and neither does aaron

the room falls into a comfortable silence, just spoons clinking against ceramic while you all watch a rerun of spongebob on the tv, jacks pick but you have no complaints

thanks to the blankets you start to sweat, your cold chills banished for the time being, “i’m too hot now,” you whine quietly, shuffling into the space under aaron’s arm

“take some blankets off then,” he mumbles, lips pressing against your warm forehead, his fingers combing through your hair ever so gently

you groan, knowing it’s the only option, “i don’t want to make jack feel bad though,” you rush out before stealing a spoonful of ice cream from your boyfriends bowl

he huffs, “you’ll make me sick,” he points out though there’s no fire behind it and when you look up at him with a soft and slightly cheeky smile he takes the opportunity to sneak a quick kiss

“you’ll make me sick,” you mock, moving away from him so you’re sitting again and not slouched against his side, “jack, honey, i’m really hot now, can i take some of these blankets off now, please?”

jack thinks, deeply, swirling his spoon around in his ice cream so it makes what he calls ice cream soup, “can i have one? i’m cold,” he asks and you nod, “okay then,” he concludes with a shrug

aaron snatches your bowl from your knee as it wobbles, allowing you to stand and shed the blankets off of you, letting them fall to the floor in a pile which you’ll clear up later

“which one do you want?” you ask jack, both of you staring down at the pile. you already know he’s going to choose the avengers one, it’s his favourite and he was quick to let you borrow it in your time of need

silently he points, to the avengers one, with his spoon. you scoop it up from the floor and throw it over the smaller boy before plopping back into your space

“here,” aaron hums, pushing your bowl against your hand causing you to flinch when it’s cold on your skin. your bowl, upon inspection, has less ice cream in it than when you left it

“how could you? stealing from your sick girlfriend.” you huff, staring into your bowl so he doesn’t see your lips pressed tight, refusing to smile

“ah, i thought you were fine,” aaron smirks, you only know because you feel it against your temple. he kisses you once before standing, “ do you want anything from the kitchen?”

the question is aimed at you however jack perks up before you do, "more ice cream!" he shrieks, waving his bowl at his father, the spoon flies out, thudding down onto the carpet with a dull thud, "uh oh"

you snicker, stopping short when aaron shoots you a look, "uh oh indeed," he sighs lightly, bending to grab the spoon, "no more ice cream for you buddy," he says, tapping the sticky spoon off of his sons head

jack takes offence, immediately. he flies off of the couch at speed, taking off after aaron who dashes towards the kitchen. you take a second to cough before following them

when you get to the kitchen jack is stood on the counter while aaron stands in front of him, both of them waving a spoon at each other like swords.

"ha ha!" jack laughs, smacking his dads spoon hard enough to send it spinning out of his hand. aaron gasps and lunges towards jack, swiping off of the counter, one arm around him while the child screams and shrieks

you giggle and smile at your boys as aaron sits jack on the edge of the counter before he's reaching for you, hands grabbing at your hips. he lifts you onto the counter, putting you right next to jack, "now you've cooled down, temperature," he mumbles to himself turning to rummage through a drawer

"i wanna do it, i'm a doctor!" jack announces, snatching the thermometer from aaron's hand. he turns towards you, face fiercely serious, "go ahhh," he demonstrates, mouth open and tongue poked out

"ahhhh," you parrot, letting the child push the thermometer into your mouth while aaron stands arms crossed in front of you, "i bet you i'm fine," you mumble around the object

the thermometer beeps and gets ripped away from you a second later, "daddy?" jack huffs, realising he can't read what it says.

aaron turns it towards the light so he can see the numbers before he smiles, "hey, you're all good," he hums, hand smoothing over your knee, "just the cough we have to get rid of now,"

"yay!" you and jack celebrate, arms in the air

"which means," aaron cuts you both off, voice louder than yours and his sons, "no more ice cream for dinner," he smiles to himself as he turns to dump the previously forgotten about bowls into the sink

jack gasps up at you, genuinely looking sad as you wrap an arm around him, pulling him tight against your side, "don't worry jacko," you whisper, "give it two days and daddy will be sick and then we will be eating all the ice cream we want,"

"awesome"

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

[baiwu-jinji]

I received a very thoughtful anon ask about Qi Rong and in the process of doing research for the ask, I came across a meta about Qi Rong on the Chinese website Zhihu that I absolutely loved, so I translated the meta into English - anon I will answer your ask ASAP, in the meantime I hope you're interested in this excellent meta:

I think Qi Rong's feelings for Xie Lian isn't that of a fan for his idol, but that of a child for an imaginary "father". So he wouldn't try to understand and study XL's character like Hua Cheng; he's only looking up to this "father figure".

This isn't a baseless conjecture - the relationship between father and son has always been a topic that can't be averted when it comes to Qi Rong. I'm guessing that when he was bullied and excluded by other kids in his childhood, it didn't occur to Qi Rong to hate the circumstances of his family; instead he wished for his father to stand up for him and help him teach those nasty kids a lesson. This wish had always existed in Qi Rong's heart and became a traumatising shadow of his childhood.

Whereas his cousin, the prince Xie Lian, who suddenly appeared in his life to help him, was unconsciously used by Qi Rong to fit his expectation of the "father". XL did what he expected a father to do, so he placed XL in his fantasies about a father. Since his abusive and useless father doesn't cut it, then someone as gentle and strong as XL must be the standard for what a "father" is like. Subconsciously Qi Rong had this idea.

Therefore I think a lot of the dumb and horrible things that Qi Rong did for XL is only due to the anxiety that a son feels towards the indifference of the "father", so he tried to do something compensatory to win the father's attention and approval; but this didn't work out at all.

This is also why he's good to Gu Zi, because Gu Zi is just another Qi Rong - he's abused by the father but still begs for the father's love and doesn't allow others to hurt his father. It's probably because Qi Rong understands what this feels like that he'd pretend to be a seemingly decent "father" for Gu Zi.

(Here the author also points out the connection between Qi Rong and Gu Zi based on their names, which needs to be explained to English readers in more detail - Qi Rong's name "Rong," in Chinese "容", is comprised of two parts: 宀 and 谷. The latter part is "Gu" (谷) as in Gu Zi's name, and the former part 宀 stands for a house or a home - in this sense the character "Rong 容" (Qi Rong) incorprates the character "Gu 谷" (Gi Zi) and provides a "home" or "shelter" for "Gu".)

Qi Rong shows off all kinds of places to the kid that he's never been to, deliberately bigs himself up, and protects the kid at the dire moment, because all of these are what Qi Rong hoped his father would do for him. However, Xie Lian was only a kid himself; how could he answer Qi Rong's expectations for a father?

Qi Rong undoubtedly loathes his biological father, because when Qi Rong was a kid, his father was useless and crass, made a laughing stock of Qi Rong and his mother and became the reason Qi Rong was mocked by other kids. But when Qi Rong needed his father and needed him to scold those kids, his father didn't care about him at all (probably only the father could accomplish this sort of task since Qi Rong's mother was depressed and sickly; this plot is repeated later on in Feng Xin and his son).

When the entire country was being destroyed, his other "father," Xie Lian, became a laughing stock too. XL didn't manage to help him before and after his death. For Qi Rong, this is a replay of the events that happened when he was five years old; this perfect "father" proves no different from his biological father.

So fundementally Qi Rong hates Xie Lian for the same reason that he hates his biological father. He indeed projected too many wishful fantasies on XL, but I think it's more about the son's disappointment towards a "father" instead of a believer's disappointment for a "god". In fact, whether XL activated the human face disease or whether he managed to saved Xianle is of secondary importance to Qi Rong; the complaints someone could voice out loud usually aren't what he actually cares about.

Of course, Qi Rong is possessed by the idea of avenging Xianle to some degree, otherwise he wouldn't have plotted revenge with other Xianle descendants. But what Qi Rong really cared about, he only managed to speak when his soul dissipated - it's what he always wanted to say to Xie Lian and his biological father but never could: "I worship and need you so much, but you don't care about me at all". This is more the case of a son who craves the father's love and complains about it. The relationship between Qi Rong and Gu Zi is comparable to the relationship between Jun Wu and Xie Lian. At least Gu Zi received some paternal love and won't grow up to be like Qi Rong, which is nice.

(For anyone interested in reading the original Chinese, here's the link: https://www.zhihu.com/question/372905885/answer/1735047946?utm_psn=1754070720630493184&fbclid=IwAR0eSI0gya5ERovl1C1Fphv2ZjnXGuKUalA378VWcZjoCj4NiUD7Pw6BDS0)

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Mentions of gore and blood. Smut.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies, thank you so much for your patience! I really needed a day or two or three to rest and relax! I was just doing the maths, and since I have combined some of my chapters to make them longer (and tbh might do it again) there is 110 chapters of SFA! So we have 10 left!! ( I do have plans for an epilogue planned after as well) HOLY SMOKES! Thank you all so much for your love and support and kind words AS ALWAYS! I fucking adore you guys. Anyway, enjoy! <3

Chapter 100: The One-Eyed King 

King Aemond, First of his Name, took you atop the Iron Throne more times than you could count, plunging into your wet heat whilst the body of his brother lay cold on the stones behind you.

By the end of your passionate embrace, you knew that you would be aching for days to come, and when you finally removed yourselves from the throne of melted swords, it was done with a gentle hand on the small of your back and a passionate kiss. 

You made your way down the steps, eyes locked onto the corpse of Aegon, the blood around him soaked through the stones. You paused as you looked at him, at his body, at the way the blood had trickled from his gaping mouth.

You thought of how he had raped you.

How he had mocked you.

Hit you. 

Usurped the throne from your mother, and been the catalyst for your brothers death.

You thought, in that moment, of everything he had done to you and to Aemond.

How he caused you to lose your child. 

Anger rolled through you, rage simmered, chest feeling impossibly tight.

But Aegon was gone.

And he could hurt you no longer. 

He could touch you no longer. 

You reared your head back, swirling your tongue and for the final time, spat onto his corpse, leg shooting out to kick the head that lay on its side forcefully with the toe of your boot, Aegon's skull skidding across the stones, wet sticky blood leaving a trail behind.

The hand on your back pushed you forward, a soft, 'that’s enough' whispered into the shell of your ear. You heaved angry broken breaths, inhaling deeply once to calm yourself before you moved forward, head held high as the King, your King, walked you towards the Small Council chambers.

The walk was swift, and it still felt as though your mind had not fully caught up to everything that had happened. But you would have to deal with that later. Right now you needed to be present.

Or as present as you could be.

As you came up the stairs, you could hear the voices of those inside, bickering amongst each other as they waited for you to arrive. The doors were opened by the guards stationed at the doors, and a hush fell across the room. 

You walked in together, and all bowed towards you. 

All except Alicent, who hissed from across the room, eyes red and tear tracks staining her cheeks, as she raced across the room, all fury, towards her son.

It reminded you of the night Aemond lost his eye.

“You have killed your own brother!” Her eyes darted back and forth across his face, horror, and anger, and disgust on her features. But what was more, beneath it all, there was fear.

Alicent was afraid.

Aemond simply looked down at his mother and hummed, lips pursing forward in thought. 

The hand moved through the space faster than anyone could have reacted, striking Aemond across the cheek with a loud slap. Alicent’s chest heaved, and Otto came behind her to drag her backwards, whispering into her ear to try and calm his daughter.

Aemond’s head had barely moved, not a hair was out of place, nor had he flinched when she struck him. As though he had been expecting it to come. As though he expected nothing less of his mother. As though it had happened, once, twice, three times before. 

And it had. 

Your husband chose to ignore his mothers rage filled glare, and moved towards the head of the table, your own feet slowly trailing after him. Aemond held open a hand to the table, ordering the men to be seated, and then he looked to you. 

You were still standing beside him, and with a shift of his palm, and an almost imperceptible nod of his head, you were directed to the seat beside him.

A seat at the Small Council. 

Before you on the table was your council stone, round and seated within its dish.

You had a place in the council.

Alicent Hightower however, did not sit, her seat now filled by you, and her fury rolled off of her in waves that crashed against the dark oak of the table. Her hands shook, and as you watched her, you could see that she was merely holding on by a thread.

It was the first time since the night of Aemond’s eye where you had seen her so shaken.

The King's cold gaze lifted to his mother, and with a soft and careful voice, he told her to sit.

The Dowager Queen’s hands shook at her side, clenching and unclenching, hair wild and out of place, and it wasn’t until that moment as you watched her did you noticed the small stains of blood against the green of her gown. The dried coppery substance had stained her fingertips and hands as she had held the corpse of her son.

Alicent did not sit, lifting a hand to her mouth, pressing it roughly into her skin with worry as she looked to all the Lords who followed Aemond’s command without question.

It was hard to not feel some sort of pity towards her, some sort of empathy, because despite everything, she was still a woman who had lost so much. Three of her children to be exact. And you knew there to be no greater loss in the world than a mother who mourns their child.

The King sat straight in his chair, and addressed the men at the table, "As you were all aware, Aegon was to set the realm to ruins. Rebellions had begun in Riverrun, and more and more of our support had begun to turncloak. His lack of action has made us quick enemies.”

Lord Jasper Wylde nodded in agreement from across the table.

Aemond continued, “He was to bring the realm to war again. Aegon's inability to listen to the council’s recommendations for Flea Bottom had caused uprisings from the small folk down in the slums. Our Kings Guards and Gold Cloaks have been working day and night to keep them at bay.”

You shifted in your seat at the mention of war and the rebellions.

“My time in Harrenhal proved to be an enlightening one. Our men who reside there were ready to erupt into battle with Rhaenyra’s allies. But hers are larger in numbers, and with the North at her side, she is a formidable foe. My uncle Daemon would torch the realm, allies or not. He has no care for the lives lost if that meant crumbling our power.” The Maester played with his council stone before him in thought, the chain of his tunic shifting, “This disruption to the dust that we had once settled, caused trade from the Golden Tooth to halt, and thus our reserves and coin have dwindled.”

Their coin has dwindled.

They’re losing power.

Gods be good, the tides are shifting.

The old Maester leant forward on the table, holding his sphere, “I had received word from the Red Fork that the Blacks, after the commandeering of their small folks trading ships, have doubled their fleet power with Lord Corlys’ warships to block any exit or entrance for our men.”

Your eyes skimmed over the table, and landed on a pair of dark brown eyes. 

Larys Strong was watching you. 

And he was smiling.

Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Law, picked up his sphere to speak, “Perhaps if we make a distinction that our purpose at the Red Fork is mere-“

“-Have you gone to madness?!” Alicent shrieked, charging towards the table on the opposite side of Aemond, hands slamming onto the wood as she sneered at her son, “You have slain your brother, the King, and now you move forward with business and trade?!”

“Aemond is King.” Your voice floated across the table, looking up at the woman through your eyelashes.

The Hightower woman’s face darkened, “You have willed him into slaying his brother. A manipulation most foul! How much more must we all fall prey to your-“

“Quiet.” Aemond’s voice cut across the room, and Alicent’s lips snapped closed, “For years you have defended Aegon and his actions, and it has become our ruin.”

His voice became deeper, louder, and more grating, “Tis I the younger brother who studied history, philosophy, and is trained with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world. It is I who should have been put forth for the crown, not that useless wastrel I called my brother."

Aemond shifted, leaning forward towards his mother as he looked up at her, "Aegon never took interest in his birthright and duty, whoring and drinking and serving his own interests which set ours back for miles. I have done what needed to be done. What should have been done. I wear the Conquerors Crown. I ride upon Vhagar, the oldest and largest of dragons, Queen Visenya once rode. I am the King.” His eye did not blink once, staring down his mother, who’s anger bled from her face, and fear resurfaced in its place.

Aemond turned to look out at his Councilmen, meeting each and every eye, “If anyone dare question my authority, I shall have you removed from these chambers and the council.”

You blinked.

And the world came crashing back towards you, as though you had been plucked from the sky once more, and tumbled down to earth. Because the reality was far more than what you had realised. Far more than what you had even had a chance to feel.

Aemond was King.

King.

And what did that mean for the treaty?

A small piece of anxiety began to worm its way through your bones, nipping at the tips of your fingers, down to the heels of your feet, burrowing under your skin with an insistence that you could not ignore or push down. Your mouth felt dry as you looked out at the table, looking at all the Lords, who gazed back, before you finally turned to face your husband. 

His eye was already on you.

With hands that shook, you lifted your sphere from its place, the weight of it stopping the uneven movement. It was heavy and smooth, and as you look down at it and turned your hand, you found the courage to speak, placing it gently back into its spot, rolling it within its small bed.

“What does this mean for the treaty?” You questioned, fingers pressing into the sphere far harder than needed.

Aemond’s eye flickered in recognition, but settled quickly, grazing over your face and down to your hand. The rest of the Lords at the table waited with bated breath.

It was clear that all wondered what was to come now after the death of Aegon.

What would become of the treaty? 

The treaty had been made with Aegon, not Aemond. 

Aemond’s jaw clenched, holding your gaze for a moment more whilst your stomach spun and flipped. Blinking, he looked away, turning to his Small Council, “You are dismissed. We shall reconvene on the morrow.”

You frowned, continuing to stare at him as the men shuffled out of the room silently, Alicent being all but dragged out by her father Otto Hightower.

It was then, that anxiety truly settled in your bones. 

“Go to our chambers, I will be there with you shortly.” Aemond spoke to you softly.

“But-“

“-Now.” Aemond commanded, tone clipped.

His word was final.

And after today, you did not wish to push his luck. The blood of his brother was still dried upon his face, having not been washed away. Evidence and proof of just how far he was willing to go. And if anyone knew the extent of his wrath, it would be you.

You swallowed thickly and stood on shaky legs, bowing your head to your husband as you left the Small Council chambers, and headed for your own. 

The walk was swift, nervous energy carrying you quickly to your shared quarters, where you paced before the fire place in wait. 

What did this mean for the treaty now?

What would Aemond do?

Was your family in danger?

Would he renew the terms?

Was war to come?

You spent the better part of what felt like an hour, walking back and fourth, thoughts tumbling through your mind like jagged rocks, scraping against the sides sharply. Your fingers coming to your mouth where you bit the nails down until they bled.

When the doors finally opened, you spun on your heel, facing Aemond as he entered, crown still atop his head. His fathers blade was now at his side, which he leant against the chaise, and he moved quickly towards you, one hand coming to cup your cheek.

His movements were sharp, and at first you had been frightened, but as you leant into the warmth of his palm as he stroked your skin, you looked into his gaze and saw it. 

Lust. 

Swallowing your anxiety, and pushing all your questions to the back of your mind, you dropped to your knees for a second time that day, willingly, the skin bruised and protesting, but hands that shook making quick work of his breeches as he looked down at you, eye half half lidded with desire.

For it would be better to broach these questions when he was disarmed.

When you pulled him from his pants, he was half erect, and so you worked him with your hand, and the tip of your tongue until he was hard and heavy in your own palm. Your fingers wrapped around him as you took him into your mouth, the muskiness of his own taste spreading across your tongue, as well as the subtle tang of your own release on his length from earlier. 

Aemond groaned from above, hand smoothing your hair from your face as you bobbed your head along his length, hollowing your cheeks and feeling his tip press against the back of your throat. The King gripped your hair and pulled you down his length, the hairs at the base of his cock tickling your nose as you gagged.

Your husband guided you up and down his length, before pulling you off of him with a pop. 

Lifting you up towards him, Aemond crashed his lips against yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as you gasped in his grip, his hands spinning you around to push you forward over the table. Your hands splayed out, knocking over an ink pot that sat on the surface, its dark ink spreading across the wood and parchment. 

The skirts of your dress were hiked up your thighs and pushed onto your back, revealing your wet, and leaking centre to the room. Aemond knelt behind you as anticipation swept through you.

You felt his sharp nose press into the flesh of your ass as he gently bit the skin causing you to whimper, before moving down to part your folds with one long swipe of his tongue. 

You moaned loudly, pushing your hips backwards to meet him as he continued, lapping at your wetness, and his seed which leaked from you from your coupling on the Iron Throne. Pleasure wound its way through you, bud and folds overestimated and sensitive from the day of fucking, and before no time at all, Aemond brought you to your peak. 

You cried out against the wood, hands digging into it as he stood, lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you with a harsh grunt. Your breasts were pressed against the wooden surface, sensitive and aching as they rubbed against the hard table top.

Your body jolted against the table with every thrust, hip bones pressing painfully against the edge of the wood, which only added to your pleasure. Aemond rutted into you in a frenzy, grunts and curses coming from behind you as he gripped your hips roughly, each stroke brushing against the spongey spot within you. 

You cried out, watching as the ink seeped into the wood of the table, nails digging into the surface. 

It looked like the stones did.

How Aegon looked.

How his blood seeped across the floor before you.

Thick and inky-

“Fuck.” Aemond grunted, “Squeezing my cock so tightly.”

You moaned loudly, hand reaching beneath your skirts so that you could press your fingers to your pearl. You rubbed neat circles into the sensitive nerves, sighing as you did, your release rapidly climbing once more. 

“Killed that fucking cunt for you. Killed my brother for this fucking perfect cunt. Fuck. Going to give you an heir.”

Each clap of his hips was bruising, and soon the both of you tumbled over the edge together, the King pushing himself to the hilt inside of you, cock throbbing as it spurted his seed deep within.

You collapsed, face resting against the wood, small strands of your hair having gotten wet by the ink that had been spilt. No doubt joining the blood that stained your hair too. You breathed heavily, letting your release to spread through you warmly.

Aemond rested his cheek against your back, hot breath fanning across your skin as he came down from his high, before he slowly pulled out of you with a groan.

In a tangle of limbs, the two of you stripped each other, the crown sitting beside the bed, as you crawled beneath the sheets facing him, spent from the days events, spent from his cock, and spent from the anxiety that continued to linger in the back of your mind. 

The both of you lay on your sides, looking at one another as he smoothed a hand over your shoulder and down your arm in a repetitive motion. Up, down, pause. Up, down, pause.

Up, down, pause.

His eye danced over your face, a finger coming to brush against your cheek where you felt a dry flake fall away. 

A dry flake of blood. 

Aegon’s blood.

Aemond was lost in his thoughts.

“Skoros issi ao otāpagon, ñuha jorrāelagon?” What are you thinking, my love? You whispered to him quietly, watching as his eye flicked back and forth on yours.

“Olvie hen mirre.” Most and all, Came his quiet reply.

You shifted, moving closer to him, hand pressed against his chest, “Gaomagon daor ōregon ziry isse. Ȳdragon ziry” Do not hold it in. Speak it.

You watched as your husbands chest rose and fell, a static quiet around the both of you. He leant forward, pressing a kiss against your forehead, and then another against your cheek.

“Ānogar kessa ropagon naejot nūmo se rūklun, se mazilībagon se vējes hembar." Blood will be spilt to seed the garden, and set the future sway, “Iā pāletilla vēttan hen ānogar.” A crown forged of blood, Aemond whispered, “Issa hae vestas.” It is as she said.

“Issa.” It is, You agreed, pausing before you spoke again, “Aemond?”

Your uncle’s gaze was locked on a strand of your hair that he brushed gently with his fingers. He hummed, raising his eye to you.

“Sir bona iksā Dārys, kostagon jān naejot ūndegon ñuha lentor?” Now that you are King, can I go to see my family?

Aemond watched your face closely, hand stilling in your hair before it dropped to your shoulder heavily. 

You breathed in, and out. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Four. 

His hand started to move again. Up, down, pause. Up, down, pause. 

Up, down, pause.

“Valzȳrys?” Husband, You questioned again, “Kessa ao ivestragī nyke ūndegon ñuha muña?” Will you let me see my mother?

Up, down.

Pause.

“Kesi jorrāelagon naejot ȳdragon nūmāzma se treaty ēlī.” We will need to speak about the treaty first.

But there was no treaty now following the death of Aegon.

Now the prospect of war returning was a real one.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you lifted a hand, brushing your fingers against his cheek and scar, fingers delicately tracing it.

It was jagged and not as smooth as you would have thought when you first saw it. The closer you were, the more you could see the small little dotted scars that lined it, courtesy of the Maester’s stitches.

“Kostilus, gaomagon daor ōdrikagon zirȳ.  Gaomagon daor ōdrikagon ñuha lentor.  Hae aōha ābrazȳrys, aōha jorrāelagon, nyke epagon ao, kostilus.” Please, do not harm them. Do not hurt my family. As your wife, your love, I ask you, please. 

Aemond hummed and leant forward to press another kiss to your forehead. 

He did not answer your plea.

Up, down, pause.

Up, down, pause.

Where Aegon had anger, Aemond had wrath. 

Where Aegon stewed, Aemond seethed.

Where Aegon saw reason, Aemond saw vengeance.

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

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat

Bold is who I cannot tag!

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 3 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: almost posted this with a missing part 💀 anyways, enjoy! (Ramadan Mubarak to my practicing babes!)

W/C: 3.782

part two

"What are you doing here?"

"Why are you here?"

We both exclaim at the same time, his hand cradling his shocked face as I look at him with my own wide eyes.

I glance at my dad; he doesn't look all too happy. I avert my gaze to Jude's mom, gulping down whatever saliva I have left in my now-dry mouth.

I actually had quite a few nice interactions with her during matches. We'd always talk when we bumped into each other. I not-so-shockingly got along more with his mom than Jude himself.

But this...

This isn't a nice interaction whatsoever.

I don't know if I should laugh or cry.

"I am so sorry. As you might know, y/n is insanely clumsy." My dad begins, his hand on Jude's back. He manages to guide him further into his firm.

I'm left standing alone with Jude's mom as we stare at each other for a second. My body stiffening in fear of what she might say.

"I am so sorry-" I start rambling, feeling my palms become sweaty.

I was more sorry to her than her son, to be completely honest.

I watch her eyes warm up immediately, her hand reaching over to place her hand on my shoulder.

"I think he'll be alright. Are you? Looked painful there." She says, her eyes full of concern as she squeezes my shoulder.

"I'm fine, perfect." I blurt, neglecting the pain in my own ankle and look behind her.

I was so dead.

I try to not look too nosy when I sit at the secretary's desk outside of my dad's office. Peering inside sneakily through the huge glass panels. Watching Jude and his mom sit across from him, a couple documents placed on the table they're sitting at.

I do make eye contact with an injured-looking Jude. He looks pissed, nodding his head repeatedly to whatever my dad was saying while holding up a pink ice pack to his head.

A sight that could be seen as comical, if I ignored the fact that I was the one who had caused it.

Thankfully, both of our parents don't notice the death stare we're giving each other, totally immersed into- what I assume, important conversation.

Come to think of it, why were they even here today?

It could only be the stalker incident.

I'm brought out of my thoughts quickly by a hand knocking on my desk.

"Stop staring already."

Luckily, ‘my-ego-is-bigger-than-my-head' Jude had returned just in time before I started to genuinely feel bad.

I lean back in my chair, eyes skimming his face for any bruises or blood. Not noticing anything unusual yet.

"It hurt, didn't it?" I ask, wanting to laugh. The situation unfolded so ridiculously fast, it felt like a camera prank waiting to be revealed.

"You could've messed with my face!" He replies in a hushed voice, his Brummie accent thick as he leans over the desk.

"Should I hit the other side? Just to make it even.” I smile, standing up and going to stand in front of him. Ignoring the shooting pain in my ankle.

He looks at me in disbelief, cocking a brow at me.

"What are you even doing here? Got sued for being insufferable?"

"Very creative with your insults.." I mock, pointing towards my dad's office. Seeing his mom and my dad still talking to each other.

"That's my dad."

"That's your dad?" He repeats, brows furrowing. He points at me, a little too disrespectfully, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Yes, that is my dad." I roll my eyes in annoyance.

"That's why you look so close with Ancelotti?" He gasps. "That's how you got the job!" He assumes, an accusatory finger pointed at me as he steps closer to me.

"No, and that's actually none of your business." I state, leaning back so his hand doesn't touch me.

I got the job after I submitted an anonymous application a little after I had returned from London. It was only just to try out my luck, but I was surprised when I got an email back for an actual interview.

I understood the assumption totally, and I wouldn't say I knew exactly a hundred percent that they didn't know who I was.

Most I could go off of was that I never told my dad I applied for the job. Later also finding out that the Real Madrid executives don't really look at job applications. They had other people do that. So the nepotism possibility was very small.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, tilting my head.

His expression immediately drops, his gaze averting.

"None of your business." He repeats my answer, mocking my tone.

"Okay, I guess not." I sigh, throwing my hands up in defeat, hearing footsteps come our way.

"Have you guys made up? You and Jude must be closer than I thought." His mom says, smiling at me.

I force a smile, nodding at her. My expression changing immediately.

"Yes, we made up. Right Jude?" I look at him, putting on my sweetest face.

"Sure." He mutters, turning to my dad.

"I didn't know she was your daughter. How do you deal with her?"

I was about to rip the door off its hinges and slam the door into his face again.

"She's a handful, isn't she? Troublemaker since she was little." My dad says, and I look at him shocked, as if he'd just betrayed our entire lineage.

No, I was not!

I step in between them before my dad ruins my image even more. Looking at Jude's mom in particular.

"Should we have some coffee?"

"So, what brings you two here? Not something horrible, I hope.” I pry, setting down the plastic tray of cups on the table.

I glance at my dad for a moment, placing a cup of coffee in front of everyone before sitting next to him, across from Jude and his mom.

"We had an incident in our home. Police are still investigating, but we were advised by the club to contact your dad for any legal action." His mom explains.

I was right.

"Oh, that must’ve been terrifying. Are you both alright?"

"We weren't home, but it definitely shook us a bit."

I nod in acknowledgment, taking a sip of my coffee as I take her words in.

"I know my dad and his team of lawyers will be very helpful. Both criminal and corporate law, the best in the city." I brag, winking, putting a hand on my dad's shoulder.

"y/n.." my dad warns, bellow a whisper, giving me a side eye.

I hear his mom chuckling and avert my gaze to her with a raised brow.

"You know- you've got to take compliments, especially from your daughter." She smiles, bringing the cup up to her lips.

My eyes move over to Jude. He's slumping in his chair, looking insanely uninterested in the conversation. I think I even caught him grimacing when I spoke.

The conversation his mom and my dad have practically fades in the background for a second. My mind wandering to random thoughts as I look to the side.

I only redirect my attention when I hear my name, followed by Jude's.

"-to work together?" My dad says, and I look back at Jude. Motioning for him to answer whatever my dad had asked. He doesn't say a single word, prompting me to discreetly kick him underneath the table.

'What?' He mouths at me, then he looks at my dad.

"It's very fun to work with y/n. She's such an interesting character." He answers, bright smile on his lips.

How backhanded could a compliment be?

"Yeah, so fun. Jude's has his moments, but we get along so well." I bite back, my tone sweet as ever. Holding back a wince as I feel him step on my shoe underneath the table.

"Oh, that's great.." His mom trails off, her eyes flickering in between us.

"Jude and y/n will be seeing each other a lot. As she's traveling closely with the team this season." My dad says proudly, this time putting his hand on my shoulder.

"That's even better. You can improve your Spanish faster with her help, Jude." His mom adds, causing a forced smile to form on his face.

"Yeah, that's very nice." He comments, sitting up and straightening his posture.

Our very nice conversation finally ends. My father and I standing up to follow them out of the firm.

"Lovely having you, Mrs. Bellingham." I say, extending my hand.

"You too, y/n." She says smiling, giving me a firm hand.

I smile, letting go of her hand, watching our parents shake each other's hands. I then look away, standing awkwardly in front of Jude.

"See you tomorrow, Jude." I mumble; it pains me physically to be nice to him.

"See you." He says, already walking away. His back turned to me as he stands outside.

After many greetings, my dad finally closes the door behind them, slowly turning to me.

"Really? What kind of show were you putting on?" He begins, throwing his hands up.

"Dad! You have to check this door out. I tried to open it like three times, and the key barely turned!" I explain, speaking hurriedly.

"I swear, it wasn't on purpose. I didn't even know they were here!" I add, trying to defend myself further.

"Let's just go home..." He mutters walking back into his office, collecting his laptop bag and a couple documents.

I sigh, following behind him like a lost puppy. Slowly becoming more aware of the pain in my ankle.

"Where is everybody?"

"We finished this big case successfully, and I sent everyone home early. I had to stay back because of this appointment." He turns to me.

"Why are you here, though?"

"I wanted to visit and work on that essay."

"You're still not done with it?" He asks, locking his office door.

"No.." I reply guilty, fidgeting with the stack of bracelets on my wrist.

He sighs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pushing me towards the entrance.

"I'll cook fresh tonight, and you'll work on that essay. What do you say?"

I crack a smile at his words, nodding.

"Deal! I would love some lasagna right now."

"I think- I'm going to faint."

I look up from my phone, frowning at Luis. The sun beaming down on our faces as we try to collect ourselves.

"No, you're not. You're going to show him how much of a professional you are with a camera." I say, patting his shoulder in reassurance.

We had received a very detailed email after agreeing to capture Apple CEO Tim Cook's visit to the club. This led us to stand in front of the training pitch, as we were instructed to film and take pictures of Cook interacting with the players.

Normally, we had timed posts that got posted automatically via an automated system.

This time, I had to live update the social media accounts of the club. Doing it all alone with Luis this time was a new experience.

We had only done it with approval for edits and drafts, and of course, goals that were scored or unexpected things that happened during matches.

"Take a deep breath and turn your camera on."

I say checking the time and posting another story on the club's Instagram before looking up.

We make sure to capture everything perfectly and move quickly to post the footage online.

After a few, excruciating fifteen minutes, we finally finish filming. Thinking Cook and President Pérez would just walk away, until they started approaching us. My own nerves building up as I glance at Luis who looks like he's about to actually lose it.

"Get your shit together, dude." I whisper, plastering a smile on my face as I finally shake Cook's hand. President Pérez also extending his hand as I shake it, a little more careful of my actions.

I wish I could just ask for a new MAC and a hundred million euros.

"Nice to meet you, sir. I'm y/n. Part of PR and marketing." I grip Cook's hand firmly, looking into his blue eyes through his black-rimmed glasses.

"Likewise." He responds, shaking Luis' hand as well.

"So, you two are the brains behind the genius team?" Cook asks, looking in between the two of us.

"Very flattering, but we have an amazing team beside us. We've been chosen today for our recent hard work. Though, I would say- Luis here is definitely one of the best, if not the best cameraman to work with." I say, trying to speak in the most polite way possible, smiling kindly.

I had never sucked up to someone this hard, but it had to be done.

I watch Cook's gaze move over to Luis, looking impressed.

"Well, I've seen what you've put out. My biggest reason to visit is definitely because of your team. As you have might have heard, I am very impressed by the amount of growth this football club has had on social media. I think you two definitely deserve to take some of that credit."

"Thank you, sir. We do appreciate that." Luis says, and I watch his facial expression intently.

He was really good at pretending to be okay.

"Right, then we will make our way back inside." President Pérez interrupts. We nod almost immediately, giving them a polite smile as they walk away.

We both watch them leave our proximity. Then look at each other with a blank stare before I witness Luis burst out in laughter.

"I've never heard you speak so sweetly."

"What should I have done. Call them 'dude!' or 'mate!'. Besides, I just gassed you up in front of the CEO of Apple. Thank me at least." I say, scoffing, checking the analytics of the posts before looking back up at the training pitch.

"Thank you. You're the best." He mutters, giving me a side hug.

"I know.." I say teasingly, shoving my phone in my pocket.

"Is it me, or did these guys just start training like their lives depended on it?" I laugh, seeing almost all of them fully drenched in sweat.

"Well, they had to impress the president as well."

I nod at Luis' answer, finally seeing Ancelotti dismiss the team. We watch them stop training, hearing some sighs of relief.

I hear someone call out to us, and we look around confused. Eventually, my eyes lock with Cama's.

"Yeah?" I shout back, watching him jog our way. Of course, the young French duo completes as Aurélien follows him.

« Comment c'était? » How was it?

Eduardo asks, a bright smile on his face as he still looks, very obviously tired.

« C'était bien, ce n'était pas très difficile. » It was good, not that hard. 

I boast, seeing Luis look partially lost in the corner of my vision. I was sure he could make out some words, though.

« vraiment? » really?

Aurélien chimes in, having heard the first few sentences from afar.

"We were a little nervous, but I think we handled it nicely." I wink, jabbing Luis as if he could follow.

"What's with the French?" I hear, seeing the person I'd seen enough of this week already.

I watch Eduardo throw an arm around Jude's shoulder, bringing him into the circle.

"Just talking." He says, the atmosphere turning awkward for a moment.

My phone starts ringing right at that second. I quickly reach for my phone and read the caller ID.

'Hugo (PR)'

I show the phone to Luis for a moment, as he nods, giving me the go ahead.

I walk a couple meters away for privacy, then pick up the call. My walk a little off as my ankle still hurts. Only because of Thursday’s debacle. I don't even know why I didn't get it checked out yet.

The call lasts a couple of minutes, and I walk back to the group of guys. Looking at Luis in particular.

"Luis, we need to go meet Hugo. He wants a debrief on how everything went."

"We will see you guys during lunch." I say to the players, bending down to unzip the equipment bag, helping Luis pack the camera.

"Why do you walk so weird?" I suddenly hear Jude say, his voice filled with curiosity as I look up.

I sigh in annoyance, rolling my eyes, before standing up and handing Luis a battery he had to pack.

"Remember when I smacked the door into your face?" I say, hearing confused noises coming from the guys next to us. I ignore them, focused on rolling up a cable semi-aggressively while looking at Jude.

"You weren't the only one in pain, hurt my own ankle as well." I mutter, still pissed about the incident.

He doesn't respond, continuing to look at me blankly. Prompting me to ignore him further.

"You guys need any help?" I hear Aurélin say, and I shake my head.

"No, it's fine; we're used to it." I smile, muttering a quick 'bye' before Luis and I go inside, mentally preparing for the debrief.

"That was not the best I've seen." I whisper to Luis, as his face looked understandably grim.

"I don't even want to know what the mood in the changing room is like."

We were making our way to our cars in the parking lot after the disappointing 1-3 defeat against Atletico Madrid.

We were done with shooting content and decided to leave early. More people wandering around with cameras and all would probably be even more of a nuance to the players after a defeat like this.

"Just turn on a song. That is the only way we can forget about the pain." I half-joke as we unlock our respective cars. Both conveniently parked next to each other.

"What? Are you playing Future again?"

"Exactly."

Unlike the match on Sunday, the match against Las Palmas ended successfully with a 2-0 win for Real Madrid. The players finally made their way inside after a celebration with their proud fans, walking up the stairs through their stadium tunnel. Jude walking alongside his teammates into the changing room.

His eyes catch Luis interviewing his teammate and Man Of The Match, Joselu. He looks around for a second, not seeing the girl he'd grown accustomed to fighting with every time they interacted. Confused as to why she wasn't doing her usual post-match task.

Ignoring his brewing thoughts, he walks into the changing room. He hears his name being shouted halfway through taking his sweaty shirt off. Looking up to find Antonio looking at his arm.

"Your arm is bleeding, man. Get it treated at the nurse." Antonio suggests, patting his shoulder.

He nods, thanking the man. He puts his T-shirt on carefully, trying not to make contact with the wound. Dressed in a clean shirt, he steps out of the changing room. Walking through the hallways and knocking on the door of the medical room before opening it.

No medical personnel is in sight. Though, he does see someone curled up in a blanket on one of the treatment beds.

The person raises her head to check out who entered, a groan leaving her lips in dissatisfaction as she spots a confused Jude.

"Why are you here?" He asks, eyes roaming on her defeated figure.

"I'm dying, obviously." She mumbles, burying her head deeper into the pillow.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"Fuck off.." She replies, pulling the blanket closer. Not in the mood to entertain him.

"Where is the nurse?" He asks, sitting across from her on the other treatment bed.

"Left to get me some ibuprofen." She replies, feeling more pain in her lower stomach. Unable to hold back a pained groan, she rests her head down again.

His eyes soften for a moment, but he tenses up when he hears the door open. A male nurse looks at him curiously as he walks into the room.

Still, the nurse prioritizes the sick y/n, helping her take the ibuprofen with a gentle hand on her back, accompanied by a glass of water.

Jude stares at the two, his eyes following the nurse’s movements like a hawk.

"Do you require treatment?" The nurse asks in Spanish, turning towards Jude when he sets the cup down.

He looks at the nurse like a deer in headlights, recognizing some words, but not enough to understand the entire sentence.

"He's asking if you need treatment." He hears y/n translate, her body slumped against the bed.

He nods immediately, showing off his arm. Dark red blood dribbling down to his elbow.

He watches the nurse’s eyes light up, getting the required equipment and bandaging his wound within a couple minutes.

"Gracias." He mutters, fidgeting with the bandage as the nurse cleans up the equipment.

He watches the nurse leave, his eyes darting back to y/n across from him.

Jude raises his eyebrows in interest as she turns around in the bed. Frown on her own face. The thin blanket not covering her body anymore.

An unusual concern for the girl starts brewing in his chest, he tries to shake it off. Look away, but he can't help but look again when he hears her shift again. Now, with her back turned towards him.

He stands up, walking towards her. His body moving on autopilot, his brain screaming at him for a clear reason why he should care about her or help her willingly.

Seeing her shiver slightly, Jude looks at the end of the bed, seeing the blanket jammed in between the mattress and bed frame. He glances at her one more time before grabbing the blanket, pulling it out from in between the bed and then quickly draping it over her body.

She doesn't react, drowsy enough to not notice. It making it the perfect moment for him to book it out of the room.

He almost has a heart attack when he crosses Luis, probably on his way to check up on his coworker in the medical room.

He sees Luis look at him for a second but avoids eye contact, continuing to just booking it into the changing room.

Why did he even do that?

His brain scrambles for a reason, all kinds of thoughts whirling in his mind, quickly chalking it up to having morals, the ones his parents taught him since he was a young boy.

You had to have morals, even when you mutually despised each other so much, right?

[fallen-elytrian]

The code fundamentally misunderstood Phil

It saw how protective Phil was. How calculated and careful he was, the precautions he would take, the paranoia he had, how dedicated he was to keeping his eggs alive.

Surely, this meant that Philza would hesitate. That he would see his children, see their faces, and lower his sword. That he would let them wreck havoc because he couldn’t bare to see them die

But no, this is Philza Minecraft. This is the Angel of Death. This is the man who conquered the world. A man who keeps his heart close to his chest but knows who his friends are

A man who would do anything to protect his family and friends

And the code dares, dares, to impersonate his kids. To put on their skin and their faces and smile and wave and put on a grand performance. The code dares to mock him. To gloat. To say “I look like your kids, you wouldn’t dare harm your kids, would you?”

But it’s because the code looks like them that Phil attacks. If it just showed up as the code monster, he’d still attack. But it would be more calculated, more careful. He’d ask why the code was here, what it wanted, he’d wonder what it’s angle was

But it’s impersonating his kids, his kids, and Phil can’t hold himself back. The code signed it’s own death warrant. “This is for impersonating my f-ing son.” Phil couldn’t bare to stand the mockery of his children

It was the worst thing the code could have done. It thought it knew Philza. It thought it was dealing with a paranoid father. But it isn’t. It’s dealing with a father who’s a warrior, an emperor, a protector. And daring to challenge him is the last mistake the code will ever make

[thewordfortheday]

The cross of Calvary—the place where our sin intersected with His holiness. There God allowed His perfect Son to die for the sake of every wrong thing we have ever done, said, or thought. On the cross, Jesus finished the work that was required to save us from the death we deserve (Romans. 6:23). The sight of a cross causes me to consider what Jesus endured for us. Before being crucified, He was flogged and spit on. The soldiers hit Him in the head with sticks and mocked Him. They flogged Him and hammered nails through His flesh to keep Him on the cross. He suffered, died and was buried and third day He rose again. He did it all for you and me- to make eternal life possible.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Donor | Drabble | Superman

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N, Warnings: 18+, this is a drabble for my Henry Cavill fic Donor. English is not my first language.

Summary: Henry's kids find out he played Superman.

"Paaaaaaapaaa!" Mari's excited call echoed through the house as she dashed down the stairs, with Henry rushing to meet her at the landing.

"Mari!” Henry exclaimed. “What's happening? Is everything alright?" he asked with a touch of nervousness, preparing himself to catch his thirteen-year-old daughter in case she stumbled while descending the stairs.

"Papa, were you actually Superman?" Mari's eyes shimmered with a blend of astonishment and curiosity.

"Good grief, Mari!" Henry exclaimed in relief, closing his eyes briefly and running a hand down his face, while the other rested on his waist. "You scared me half to death. Is that all you wanted to ask?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Mari asked with bubbling enthusiasm, bouncing on her heels.

"Well, it's not like it's some top-secret information," Henry replied, guiding his daughter down the hall toward the kitchen.

"What's all the fuss about?" You called out from the kitchen before Henry and Mari entered.

"Your daughter just unearthed the fact that her papa is the son of Jor-El," Henry responded with faux exasperation, causing you to snort. Henry and Mari settled onto bar stools across the kitchen island, where you were meticulously frosting the first of three batches of cupcakes that Sisi needed for school the next morning.

"Really? Nobody thought to mention that papa was Superman?" Mari inquired, still puzzled and amazed by the revelation.

"Why is this such a surprise?" You asked, not taking your eyes off the cupcake you were skillfully frosting. "Your father is an actor, after all."

"Yeah, but Superman? Ma, we've been living with Clark Kent all this time," Mari quipped, lowering her voice conspiratorially for the latter part, as though sharing a closely guarded secret. You laughed hard at your daughter’s reaction. 

"Thirteen years, darling. Took her thirteen years to find out.” Henry chuckled and you giggled.  “Who spilled the beans, anyway?" he asked. 

"Uncle Charlie did! And I knew you were a bit of a nerd, pa, but I had no idea you were enough of a nerd to be cast as Superman," Mari teased, prompting exaggerated gasps of shock from both Henry and you.

"Oh goodness, actors!" Mari groaned, rolling her eyes at her playful parents.

"Young lady!" Henry exclaimed, still maintaining his mock shock, with a hand dramatically placed over his chest.

"For the record, I’m a singer/songwriter. And you might call him a nerd now," you began, shaking your head with a mischievous smirk, "but he's the hottest and sexiest Superman. Ever." You cast a teasing glance at your daughter and playfully wiggled your eyebrows.

"Ew, ma. Stop it," Mari responded.

"Thank you, darling," Henry smiled at you, his expression still a bit theatrical.

"So, wait…" Mari began, a mischievous glint in her eye, "You mean to tell me that you had to fit in that Spandex?" She magically had promo photos pulled up on Google on her smartphone, then showing her parents a GIF from over 20 years ago.

"We're home!" Sisi's voice echoed from the front door as it swung open. Vivi, Savi, and your youngest and only son, Teddy, trailed after her. 

"In here!" Henry called out. 

"What a dish!" You exclaimed with a playful groan as you stared at the photo on Mari's phone, as if it were a mouthwatering treat. Henry burst out laughing while Mari grimaced in sheer disgust, and Henry joined in with an exaggerated groan.

"I no longer look like that," Henry said, his tone carrying a hint of disappointment and nostalgia.

"No, you don't," Mari chortled, and Henry playfully smacked her on the arm.

"Of course you don't, Hank. You're hotter now. Total DILF," you said, walking over to Henry, playfully wiggling your eyebrows before leaning down to kiss him.

"Ew, please. I beg of you both. Stop it!"

"What's a DILF?" Sisi asked with a scowl as the kids flooded into the kitchen, giving their parents each a hug and a kiss.

"Please don't ask them, you don't want to know," Mari answered.

"Yes, I won't say either because the last word is a curse word," Henry snorted.

"How was school?" You asked your kids as they all settled down, and you began bringing out their afternoon snacks of cookies and milk.

"Oh, I thought we were having cupcakes!" Vivi said disappointedly.

"That's for my bake sale tomorrow," Sisi quipped.

"Can we at least have one each, ma?" Teddy asked, and who were you to say no to your husband's mini version? 

You handed out a cupcake to each of your children while Henry began pouring milk into their glasses. 

When everyone was happily eating and chatting, Mari filled her younger siblings in about their dad's (not-so) secret, and all your children gave their Papa surprised and then disgusted looks, resulting in a few more laughs.

Henry leaned in to whisper in your ear. "Do you mean it, darling?"

"What?" you asked, playing coy.

"That I'm a total DILF?" He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Of course I do, Superman," you giggled, and he groaned before he kissed you, twirling you around as if you were dancing. The kids started groaning in fake disgust at their parents' display of affection.

Tag list:

@jyessaminereads @summersong69 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetandgentlecreature @kingliam2019 @leaveitbythewave @mrsevans90 @evansabove1981 @bascmve01 @shellyshellshell @iamsana @foxyjwls007 @one-sweet-gubler @henryownsme @angelcavill66