#Moon's final in-person words to him were “I love you and I'm sorry”

[meagancandraw]

You ever think about how neither of them got to say goodbye?

[armxnh]

i know we just met, but i love you

synopsis: love at first sight with the tokyo revengers men.

characters: manjiro 'mikey' sano, takashi mitsuya, chifuyu matsuno

genre: fluff

warnings: none (i think...?)

masterlist.

manjiro 'mikey' sano

"ken-chinnnn" the leader of the toman whined at his taller friend. draken rolled his eyes in response, "no mikey, drop it."

"come onnnn-" the said man pouted exaggeratedly, "what did i do wrong?"

"nothing." the delinquent replied taking his wallet out of the pocket of his jacket, "you just don't need to eat twenty-five taiyaki."

"sorry to bother you but there are a lot of people who are waiting take their orders so if you could-" daiki, as it was written on his name tag, tried to cut them off from behind the counter.

for the past ten minutes, the two delinquents were arguing about their order. draken wanted to buy mikey five taiyaki, while mikey wanted his friend to buy him twenty-five of them.

draken turned his head to the cashier, "yeah, so five taiyaki and-"

"twenty-five taiyaki." "damn you-"

"hurry up! unlike other people, some of us have important things to do!" a customer yelled from the back of the line.

manjiro snapped his head to the back of the line, narrowing his eyes at the older man who had just yelled at him. "see now you're making people angry, mikey. 'm not gonna spend ¥5,272 on snacks."

"i need to eat a lot if i want to be taller!"

"for the last time. you won't get taller! you are at your maximum height!"

"alright! i'm not going through this again." a soft voice cut both of them before they could start the same argument they had 2 minutes ago. "daiki, i'll pay for their order- just make his goddamn snacks, please."

when manjiro turned to look at the person who 'saved his life', he felt like he has just died and miraculously came back to life as he made eye contact with you.

you were... pretty.

his eyes were set on you, taking in every single detail he could as if he was scared to forget how you look the second he'll look away.

"thank you, but that's not necessary!" draken politely thanked you as you grabbed your fidelity card of the small shop.

"don't worry about it! after all, those fidelity points have to be used for something." you waved him off, looking back at daiki, "could you also add my regular oder with that, please daiki?"

"o-of course, (y/n)!" the young worker quickly tapped your oder in the computer, a red hue covering his cheeks when you smiled at him.

"mikey, what do you say?" draken looked at his friend, hinting him to thank you, but his words fell into deaf ears as mikey kept looking at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky.

"mikey?" He nudged the said man's shoulder trying to snap him out of his thoughts, only to be ignored once more.

the tall blond dropped the smile as he turned to his friend hitting the side of his head, finally snapping him out of his thoughts, "mikey!"

"um? what?" mikey barely glanced at draken when he responded, his heartbeat increasing when you looked back at him with your receipt in hand.

"i said, what do you say to the girl who just bought you your snacks?" he replied, glancing between the two of you clearly wondering why his friend was acting weird all of the sudden.

"marry me."

ken ryuguji never whipped his head to look at his friend so fast in his life. What the hell did he just said?!

you felt your face warm up at his words, chuckling as you walk past him, placing your hand on his shoulder, "do you ask every girl who buys you snacks to marry you?"

manjiro felt like he was in heaven when you stood closer to him. how can someone be so pretty and be so nice and smell so good and be so pretty at the same time.

"what?" toman's leader came back down to earth when you handed him the box filled of taiyaki. "did i say that out loud?" manjiro mumbled, frowning to himself. before looking back at you, just to see you making your way outside. "hey- wait!"

he tossed the snacks at draken jogging to meet you outside of the shop. "w-wait!"

you turned to look at him, the soft summer breeze sweating through your hair, leaving your face completely out in the open, "yes?"

"you're (y/n), right?" he asked remembering how the cashier called you when you were ordering, "i'm mikey..." he wanted to say something else but the words got caught in his throat when you smiled at him.

"nice to meet you, mikey" you replied before your eyes drifted behind him to the small group of guys that were looking at the two of you intensely, the 'ken-chin' guy from earlier standing with them. "i think your friends are waiting for you"

manjiro glanced back to see his best friends looking at them with knowing looks on their faces, "never mind them- this is- you are more important."

you looked away from him, his intense eye contact making your face feel warm, "you really know how to talk to girls you know?"

"thank you for earlier... the snacks and all..."

"that was 2 months worth of fidelity points- you better eat every single one of those taiyaki" you playfully warned the gang leader.

"don't worry about that..!" mikey replied knowing damn well that he will inhale those snacks. "can i walk you home? it's going to get dark soon- wouldn't want my wife to get attacked or something!"

wife?!

you suppress a smile at his words, "of course, wouldn't want it to get dark at 2 pm, and then get attacked by who knows what next to a bakery."

"exactly! let's go, wifey!"

takashi mitsuya

"what did you say you're brother's name was?" you asked the crying girl in front of you.

"...t- taka-shi" the small girl sobbed in your shoulder as you gently patted her head.

"alright and what's your name?" you gently asked as you scanned the area trying to find someone who looked like they had just lost their child.

"i- i- i'm mana"

"you have a really pretty name, you know?" you smiled fondly at the girl as you whipped the tears of her face with your thumbs.

"really?"

"heck yeah! it's a badass name!" you felt relief wash over you when you saw a smile spread across the kid's face, "i'm (y/n) and i'm gonna help you find your brother alright?"

"thank you..." she mumbled quietly.

"you're going to hop on my shoulders and tell me when you see your brother okay?" the girl looked up at you with stars in her eyes, you pulled mana on your shoulder, her small hands on your head.

you walked for a good 15 minutes before mana tapped your head with on hand while the other pointed toward an unknown man in the crowd of person, "they're there! that's draken!"

draken? wasn't her brother's name takashi? you wondered as you put mana to the ground your hand grabbing hers just in case she got lost again.

"mana!" a little girl's voice called out as you arrived next to the very tall guy with a dragon tattoo on his head. the small girl that looked very similar to mana hugged tightly the younger girl.

"mitsuya! ' found her" the tall guy called out for someone else behind him. the 'mitsuya' guy appeared from behind the 'draken' guy not long after he called out from him. the purple haired teen practically attacked his sister with a hug, sighing in relief.

"don't ever do that again, mana." he gently scaled his younger sister, "you could've gotten lost and we would've been really sad, al-?"

"it's fine! (y/n) helped me find you!" she pointed her finger at her. mitsuya ruffled his sister's hair, before straightening up to thank the person that help his mini-him, "thank you so mu..."

he felt like the world had stopped moving. like it was only the two of them in the middle of the festival. takashi mitsuya was in a trance. he was simply mesmerized by the sight of you.

"it's no problem, really! " you softly smiled at him, "your sister is a real angel-"

anything else you said after wasn't even registered but the delinquent in front of you. he was usually so good at this- talking to people was what he did best so... why couldn't he utter a single word for you.

his cheeks were red, his palm were sweaty, why was he anxious?- he was hanging on everything you did. even if he felt like he had forgotten how to speak, your voice felt like melody to his ears.

he snapped out of his trance when someone nudge his shoulder. mitsuya glanced at draken beside him, suddenly remembering that they weren't alone and that you were talking to him.

you looked at him with a puzzled look, "are you alright?

your question made him overthink about everything that happened in the last 2 minutes of your meeting. Did he look like a creep?

"i- i- great."

the hell was that takashi? he cursed himself.

darken cleared his throat, holding back his laugh. he brought his fist to his mouth faking coughs as he muttered a small, "real smooth, mitsuya".

you chuckled at his friend's comment, making mitsuya straighten up, you pulled out your hand for him to shake.

"let's start over, alright? i'm (y/n)... you're takashi right?"

draken stepped up clearly expecting his friend to be to lost in space to answer you, "he prefers mitsuya-"

"takashi's fine!" the said man interjected, as he quickly grabbed your hand to shake it, sending one of his pretty smile in your direction.

"i-"

"are you going to marry my brother?" he couldn't catch a break could he? luna asked you with big eyes.

you chuckled softly at her words, "how about this... i will give my number to your brother. then we'll go out to eat something to talk about marriage alright?"

"yes!" the girl tightly hugged your leg as you said that.

"does that sound like a plan to you, takashi?" yes!

mitsuya hurriedly started to look in his pocket for a pen, when draken pulled one out of his pocket with a piece of paper and handed it to the purple haired boy, "there you go, casanova"

takashi handed you the paper and the pen, before you wrote your name with your phone number on it.

"see y'a soon, taka! bye, mana don't get lost again alright?"

as soon as you were out of sight takashi turned to draken with a stern look, "not a word about this, alright?"

"you're crazy!" draken crackled putting his hand in his pocket, "i'm going to tell everyone!"

"draken!"

"as your wingman i feel like it's my responsibility-"

"no it is not!"

chifuyu matsuno

"hurry up, chifuyu!" takemichi yelled at his friend. they couldn't be late. not for that.

"how come you are slow as hell during a fight, yet you sprint your life on a sunday at 8 am?" the blond joked as he calmly walked behind takemichi with not a care in the world.

"come on! we're gonna be late!" he repeated hurriedly before stopping abruptly while looking around him.

"late to what?" chifuyu yawned, before looking at his friend, who stood there looking around, up and down as if his brain had finally snapped, "you alright?"

"alright stand here and don't move." takemichi moved the delinquent around so that he would stand in the middle of a park- an empty park.

"did you finally snapped or...?" he asked when the time traveler started to back away from him, "are you going to kill me? is this really how it's gonna end-"

"watch out!"

a voice yelled, but it was too late.

a ball directly hit his face, knocking chifuyu to the dirty ground, his eyes closing due to the shock.

it took him a couple of seconds before finally opening his eyes again, only to realize that he was in heaven. the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life held his head in her hands, her index and middle finger pressed against the front of his neck just below his jaw- making sure that his heart was still beating.

"oh- thank god! you're not dead!"

"are you an angel?" chifuyu mumbled placing his hand on top of yours- making sure you were real, "am i in heaven?"

you let a breathy chuckle at his words, "you're cute- but no you're not dead... i kicked a ball in your face- unintentionally of course!"

his eyes finally focused on you, remembering what had happened. he blinked a couple of time, his eyes scanning your face- a pretty girl's face... so close to his face with her hands on his face and his hands on her hand-

what?!

chifuyu's face became as red a tomato straitening his posture to apologize for touching you without your authorization, "i'm so sorry-"

his head came in contact with your head, making you pull back immediately from the blond. "ow! i told you i didn't do it on purpose!" you groan holding your head with your hands.

chifuyu gasped in horror at his own clumsiness as he placed a hand on the back of your head. hopping that the coldness of it would help you a little, "i'm sorry! i swear i didn't mean it! please hit me again so that we're even!"

...what? now why would he say that?

"what? what's wrong with you?! do you get turn on by getting hit or something?!"

chifuyu panically looked around to search takemichi so that he could help him. when he finally spotted him, hiding behind the swings, the time traveler was smiling proudly with his two thumbs up in the air.

his action making him recall a conversation the two of them had a couple of weeks earlier.

"so... am i married in the future?" chifuyu asked takemichi as he bit down the sandwich he made himself for lunch.

takemichi raised his brows at the question, "yeah-"

"really?!" the blond gasped, with heart in his eyes, "do i know her?! no wait- that'll ruin the surprise- is she pretty?! no wait- of course she's pretty you idiot!"

the time traveler chuckled at his friend's words, rubbing the back of his neck, "do you want me to tell you how you met?"

"no! it has to be a surprise!" chifuyu refused, "wait am i going to meet her soon? is that why you said that?! takemichi?! answer!"

"nah- like you said it has to be a surprise~"

"takemichi!"

"if it makes you feel better- you embarrassed yourself in front of her"

"how would that make me feel better?!"

that sneaky bastard.

"i'm sorry! i don't know how to talk to pretty girls..." chifuyu mumbled looking to the ground, but his face snapped back at you when he realize what he had just say, your eyes round at his words, "i- i mean not that don't know how to talk you! wait- not that you're not pretty! you are pretty- beautiful even! but that is not the point! i don't need you to hit me! just please don't think i hurt you on purpose- i don't hit pretty girls! no wait- i don't hit girls at all! but you being beautifully-pretty is just a plus you know! an-"

you smacked your hand on his mouth, stopping his rambling, the butterflies in your stomach flying way to much due to his words. "please stop-! you're too cute..."

takemichi titled his head at the scene in front of him, clearly not remembering that part of the story your older self told him in the future about how chifuyu and her had met-

but... mission failed successfully... i guess?

ⓒarmxnh

[chocochannie]

Soft touches

Theodore Nott x gn! reader

Fluff, less than 1000 words

English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes!!

It was friday evening. You were heading to the library as usual. At this time, there weren't many students, so you could peacefully read. Stepping into a big dark room with many shelves filled with old books and candles flying everywhere, you smelled a familiar scent. God, how you loved this place.

As you sat at your usual seat in the back of the library and opened your book, you heard footsteps getting closer to you. You looked up and saw Theodore Nott.

You didn't talk much to him, but you were crushing on him for ages but wouldn't admit it, even to your best friend or even yourself. He was more like the quiet type of person. He didn't speak much, and you always wondered why he was friends with Draco and Mattheo. They were the complete opposite, loud, outgoing, mean, and always partying. Theo is kindhearted, he may seem scary and imitating, but that's far from the truth.

"Hi, is this seat taken?" He said, pointing to the seat beside you.

The library is almost empty, why would he want to sit here?

"Not at all, go ahead." You said slightly smiling at him.

He sat down and took out a sketchbook from his bag. You didn't know he liked to draw. You tried to subtly look at his drawings as he flipped the pages.

The sketchbook was filled with beautiful landscapes, animals, and portraits of people you've never seen before but also of his friends, even some teachers. They were mostly drawn with pencils, but some of them, especially landscapes, were painted. They were absolutely beautiful. You've been so caught up in admiring his work that you didn't see that he noticed this.

"Well.. I know it might sound weird, but could you pose for me? I mean, it's totally fine if not, but you look so pretty right now, and I'd love to capture this.. gosh, that sounded creepy, I'm sorry." He said.

It really caught you off guard but didn't fail to make you blush slightly.

"Don't be sorry. Thank you, and yeah, I could do that. Should I move?" You said hoping he wouldn't notice how nervous you are.

"Not really, just do this..." he said, taking your hand in his and moving it to your face. His cold finger tips brushing against your cheek.

His hand was so soft. His gorgeous eyes were looking straight into yours. How could you be so madly in love with him?

You didn't move a muscle as he started drawing you. His blue eyes scanning every inch of you. The only thing you could hear was the rain outside. You were as focused on him as he was on you. His dark curls falling onto his forehead, his pale skin that reminded you of the moon, his sleepy bright eyes, his soft pink lips, his long, skinny fingers. All this made you fall for him, he was breathtaking.

He finally finished and showed you the drawing.

"Here it is. It's not perfect but I hope you'll like it" he said handing it to you.

It was marvelous, he drew you exactly how you look like, added every little detail.

"You can keep it, sorry I have to go, I promised Draco I'll help him with his assignment." Right after he spoke, he rushed out of the library. You didn't even have time to thank him.

Sighing you stood up, but the piece of paper fell. You picked it up and saw text on the back.

"Would you like to go to hogsmeade on a date with me? I think im falling for you more every day."

You also think you're falling for him more everyday, if that's even possible.

Masterlist

[astrumark]

── SHE WAS LOVIN' ME, SHE WAS WANTIN' ME ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: aemond is not accustomed to getting attention and you give him just that.

WARNINGS: one curse word, sexual implications, heavy make-out session, flirting.

WC: 2.9K

NOTES: i haven't written anything in two years so i'm very rusty, sorry. also english is not my native language.

Aemond has always been prideful, although this characteristic was often hidden under the circumstances of his life. But he was aware, and enjoyed a bit too much, all of his privileges as a prince, even being arrogant about it. His pride was a bit shaken when he didn't claim a dragon in his early childhood, a dragon meant a lot not only for a Targaryen but especially a male Targaryen, a symbol of their manhood. He felt more unworthy than other men in his family. When he finally claimed Vhagar, he lost his eye, an essential part of his body, and yet again, his entitlement faltered. When it was rather obvious that Aegon would become king one day, and how unfit for the role he was, Aemond was faced with the second son's burden and jealousy. Aemond was prideful, however, he never felt whole.

He was resentful because he could've had so much more. He'd sometimes dream about having the largest dragon alive, both of his eyes, and an Iron Throne to claim for himself. But reality would strike him once again and he would bury all of his anger, frustration, and envy deep in his heart and present only his well-built facet to others. Aemond felt so at fault he turned into a perfectionist. He needed to be the perfect pupil, the perfect warrior, the perfect son, brother, and one day, husband and father. To be respected, and to be feared. But no matter how much he succeed in his duties, he was never satisfied. Aemond's pride was wounded and he craved validation, even if he didn't admit it.

So yes, Aemond absolutely loved your attention.

When you first arrived at the Red Keep, your father a new member of the small council, Aemond believed your constant stare was due to your fear and disgust towards him, just as the other ladies. However, as moons went by, Aemond noticed there was something slightly different in your eyes, curiosity, perhaps? He felt your gaze on him constantly and decided to ignore it. But it certainly made him unease, such sudden interest. You even attended his training on certain afternoons, and he knew you couldn't mean anything good, which irritated him as well.

You, on the contrary, were enchanted with the prince the second you laid eyes on him. While reading a romance book, you believed that a person couldn't knock another's air out of their lungs upon a mere sight, but that's what happened. The air around you became thick and a soft gasp escaped your lips. He was the most handsome man you have ever encountered. You tried to pick on things you didn't like about him, and you found none. His tall and slim body, the typical leather attire, soft-looking silver hair, mesmerizing violet eye, and a, in your opinion, charming eyepatch. His face, you could have never imagined it in your head, unusual characteristics one would never think could end up looking so good when paired together. He was sharp but pretty, unique. Reminding you of a sculpture, to be appreciated, but better avoid touching it to not deteriorate the work.

Once knowing you would move to the Red Keep, Aemond was undoubtedly the royal you were most keen to meet in person. The mighty rider of Vhagar, such a legendary dragon. When you heard the story about the night he claimed her, you were standing on tiptoes. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon, he supposedly said. Only a child, you admired the boy, and that admiration didn't go away as more gossip about the one-eyed would reach your ears throughout the years, how he'd become a highly educated man and one of the finest warriors in all of Westeros, how he was collected and intimidating. Your expectations were high already, and he managed to surpass them. Even when Aemond demonstrated little interest in you or your acquaintance, you could not help but drool over him. His looks, his attitude, his voice. So delightful.

It was Helaena's name day and Queen Alicent decided to throw a banquet in celebration. The great hall was loud due to conversations and the music, not many lords had been invited, to not overwhelm Princess Helaena, who preferred calmer ambiances, nonetheless, the castle was a lot more full than usual. You poured more wine to yourself, stomach already full, half engaged in the conversation with other ladies, half watching Aemond, further on the table, across his brother. Lost in your trance, you didn't connect the voices to names, but you listened to them.

"I must confess I find Prince Aegon dashingly handsome. Princess Helaena's a lucky woman."

Giggles.

"Indeed, a shame he lacks morals."

"He's truly attractive, the whores and servants that earn his attention have nothing to complain about."

"Do you think if Prince Aemond still had his other eye, he could compare?"

"Not at all, he's simply strange looking."

You scoffed. "He's very handsome. Aegon is the one who could never compare to him, even lacking an eye."

One of the ladies smirked. "You are the only one who favors Aemond, I wonder why?"

"Perhaps I just have a better taste."

There was a sound of disapproval among the inner circle you found yourself in, and you sighed, drinking more of your wine.

"There's just something about him, a fire, an unpredictability. He looks calm, yet he seems as if he could explode at any moment, doesn't he?" You pondered, looking at him again. "Seven, he rides the largest dragon alive, is that not alluring enough?"

"Careful what you say out loud, dear Y/N, if the Septa finds out where your thoughts are wandering, she will not be pleased." Lady Vivien teased and the others burst out laughing. You rolled your eyes.

Aemond was bored out of his mind, but he forced himself to stay for his sister. He watched the feast impassive, speaking only when needed and fidgeting with his cup of wine. When Helaena left to gather with a group of young ladies, where you stood, and his mom seemed too engrossed in conversation with her friends, the young prince contemplated leaving, certain his presence was no longer a necessity. That was when Aegon opened his mouth.

"Do you think it makes her look stupid? Because I do," He drank from his cup. "But stupidly sensual."

"What do you speak of?" Aemond's tone was both tedious and exasperated.

"Lady Y/N, obviously, longingly staring at you," Aegon scoffed. "If she looked at me with those eyes, I tell you, brother, there wouldn't be much left of her afterward. Basically begging you to fuck her senseless."

Aemond would never say it out loud, but his heart skipped a beat at his brother's words. A thought that never once crossed his mind, because, surely, that couldn't be possible, not someone like you. But it made sense, yes. What he could never quite read in your eyes... was it lust? Pride filled his chest with the idea, the knowledge that you may desire him.

For the first time, when he felt your eyes on him, he locked his one with yours, watching you intently, now with the same interested gaze you held, confidently analyzing your face and reaction. When your lips turned into a shy yet flirtatious smile, only to shamefully avert your eyes right after, playing with your hair and pretending to focus on the conversation around you, he knew it. Your actions were not uncommon to him, he had seen them many times but directed at Aegon, and even his younger brother, Daeron, but never him. Gods, was it pleasant. He couldn't fight the smirk off his face as he sipped on his wine, an ego boost much needed.

You have noticed the shift in Aemond's behavior towards you after that night, it was impossible not to. How he started to return your stares and smirks and acknowledge your presence with words rather than a nod, sometimes even engaging in small conversations, asking about you and your interests. Each interaction lets you with a foolish smile and a racing heart.

Managing to convince Helaena to ditch the Septa's lessons for one afternoon, you found yourself in the Dragonpit since the princess decided she desired to fly. Although there hadn't much to do whilst you waited for her return, you didn't mind in the slightest. The structure, so big and magnificent, had always amazed you, the dragon's power distinguishable in the air. And for that, you were more than thrilled to visit Rhaenys's Hill every time someone suggested it. After chatting a bit with Helaena's sworn knight, you started wandering around, lost in thought.

Your body trembled upon hearing the most loud and rasping squeak, followed by harsh flaps of wings, and you lifted your head up. You already knew who it was, no other dragon compares to her. And if carefully inspected, one could easily understand each dragon's personality and mannerisms. You rushed outside, although still hiding behind one of the huge pillars at the entrance of the Dragonpit.

Vhagar landed on the ground with a loud thud, and it was as if the sand was shaking beneath your feet. You gawked at the creature. You had already seen her, but never this close. Although stunning, Vhagar also seemed unnatural, her colossal form not settling right in the ambiance. No living or dead being should be this big. You gulped nervously, she was otherworldly, for sure.

You listened to Aemond talking with a few dragonkeepers in High Valyrian, you had studied the language for a while, but you were not fluent, especially when spoken so fast. With difficulty, you managed to understand that the prince had asked for food. Aemond petted Vhagar whilst a few workers scattered away, surprisingly, they came back not much long after, guiding two living cows and a sheep.

You were fascinated and horrified as you watched Vhagar burn one of the cows, feasting in its carbonized meat and bones. You tore your gaze from what was left of the poor animal, instead focusing on Vhagar's appearance, memorizing it, her bronze scales and big green eyes, ridiculously sharp and deadly teeth, and visible scars of ancient battles all over her body. You couldn't help but recall all of the tales, so entertained by the beast, you didn't even notice the presence of the young prince behind you.

"I must admit my utter surprise, Lady Y/N. I was not expecting such a lovely presence in here." The voice startled you and a gasp escaped your lips as your body turned around.

"Prince Aemond," You said curtsying slightly, your head also lowered in embarrassment with the flattery, and you tried to fight the satisfied smile that threatened to break in the corner of your lips. "It seems your sister also found it fit to fly this afternoon. I came as a companion."

Aemond hummed, making butterflies arise in your stomach. "The weather is nice."

"Indeed." Your body turned to Vhagar again as the she-dragon now incinerated the sheep, a burning smell invading your nostrils once more.

"You like her." It was a statement, not a question.

"She is legendary, my Prince."

"That she is."

"Isn't it hard to believe she is one of the dragons that conquered Westeros all those years ago? And still stands before us? A living piece of history itself," You rambled, watching how they brought the other cow forward. "Ancient, powerful, magic. A fragment of the Old Valyria."

Aemond stood even taller, as if it was possible, filled with pride of his dragon, a smirk plastered on his face.

"She has seen so much, more than half of the people she has known is dead for quite some time now," You continued. "Have you heard about how the wild dragon Cannibal might be even older than Vhagar? It is absurd. Amazing creatures." Your gaze returned to Aemond.

He was already looking at you, listening to your words attentively, amusement clear behind his eye.

"Well, seeing as you admire her that much, I might take you for a ride," Aemond said. "Then, you will be able to see her full glory."

You chuckled wryly, looking back at Vhagar very briefly, before laying your full attention on the prince. "I suppose there are more shameful ways of dying than falling off a dragon." You jested.

"I would not let you fall," He paused, eye surveying your body up and down. "I'd hold onto you tight." You didn't miss the flirtatious tone.

You smirked, heart pounding loudly and feeling all hot. You stared at him, absolutely entranced by his handsome face, before entering his game.

"I don't know what would be more pleasant," You took a step closer to him, whispering in seduction. "Riding the mightiest dragon alive or being pressed against you."

Your stomach tingled as Aemond's eye darkened with lust. It was something you have noticed upon admiring him for so long, that, although his body and face remained often stoic, his eye didn't really lack emotion, and through it, you should be able to read his mood.

"It would pain me not to clear your doubts, pet." His hand brushed a strand of your hair and tucked it behind your ear, making the distance between you even smaller, and your breath hitched.

"We wouldn't want that." You whispered, stepping back, only to feel the coolness of the pillar, Aemond followed you like a predator, your chests pressed.

"No, we wouldn't." His long index finger caressed your jaw, the feather-like touch making you flutter your eyes shut as the hair on the nape of your neck stirred up. "So beautiful." He whispered, now cupping your cheeks in both hands and bringing your face closer to his.

You knew you should pull away, that you were in a public space, that although hidden behind the pillar, and not seen from the front, anyone that decided to enter or leave the building, could catch you in the most inappropriate way possible with the prince. You'd be forever ruined in court and your chances of a good marriage would disappear, your parents would rightfully so doom you, because how does one even explain this situation? But you couldn't.

All you could possibly think about was Aemond, the warmth of his body, and how good it felt, his breath mingling with yours, the texture of the leather beneath your fingers as you held his waist, his scent, of dragon, but something else as well, more citric and fresh you could only guess as his bathing oils and the absolute desire in his eye. No, you couldn't pull away and you wouldn't. You would risk everything to have the littlest taste of him. Aemond smirked, nose brushing yours, and then, he kissed you.

Aemond kissed you, and you could swear you floated, all of your other senses went numb, and you could only feel his warm and soft lips on yours. You sighed in contentment, and you moved your lips against his tentatively, a hot and pleasant sensation taking over your lower belly. You gladly let him deepen the kiss, and not even if you tried you could have prevented your soft moan from slipping out of you. You met him at his pace, not slow or fast, just right, the two of you getting to know and exploring the other. Growing confident, one of your hands moved to his strong jaw, stroking it gently as you had only dreamed of, Aemond groaned in pleasure, tightening his grip on you. And you continued to kiss him, eager and tenderly, somewhere in your mind, fearing that you were showing him how much you appreciated him, how much you wished for this, longed for this, longed for him.

Aemond noticed, of course he did, and it made him feel so good. You needed him, and Aemond enjoyed being needed. His hands slided down your body, caressing and squeezing your ass as he swallowed down your moan with his lips fervently devouring your own, his hands traveled through your hips and waist, going to the swell of your breasts and gripping on it, your surprised whimper making his cock throb. Aemond's lips moved to your jaw and exposed neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses and slight biting. You pulled at his hair, bringing his face to yours again, and he could only stare at you.

Because there, panting and with swollen lips, after letting him kiss and palm you in such a dangerous place, looking at him with a look that Aemond could only identify as pure adoration, he knew he'd got you in the palm of his hands, at his complete mercy, a sheep in a dragon's claw, and that you were his. He smiled wickedly, mine, he thought, heart swelling in pride. He locked your lips with his again, but in a peck. You were blissful.

"Come," He took your hand, subtly leading you inside, towards one of the many uninhabited tunnels.

And in the dark of the cave, away from any possible prying eyes, you kissed again, for several minutes or even more, heatedly and curiously, hands excited to feel as much of the other's body as possible. You bit, sucked, and licked one another. And even if just for that brief moment, Aemond felt whole. Nothing was pledging his mind as you deluged him with so much affection he could've drowned in it, all he cared about was the feeling of your delicate lips on his, your soft skin, your addicting taste and smell, and your loveliest moans that sounded like music to his ears. Aemond had bewitched you long ago, but unknowingly to the prince, you had just bewitched him as well. You needed him, and he'd willingly oblige to your wishes.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Since you open ask box and request, can I get TF141 men (or Ghost and Gaz if you don't feel like to write all of them) reacting to cool, rarely smile, intimidating and stoic reader finally smiling for the first time. Let's say reader has soft spot for certain things (cat, dog, book, flower etc) and they immediately smile when they see them without realize it. Boys just keep falling harder for reader and decide to make it their mission to make reader smiles more often.

I guess that's all for now. Thank you

🦈

hello🦈 anon!! Sorry I wasn't sure you want me to write them separately or together, so I chose the latter lmao. Hope you will like it (or don't hate it), TYSM for the request :) I love this request so much since I'm always a fan of cool reader. tf141*GN!Reader, Reader's kinda tsundere word count: 1.9k

Every member of Task Force 141 saw you as a capable teammate, you went through thick and thin with them, and always have their back. On the field, your shooting accuracy and excellent combat skills saved you and the team many times, quickly clearing any threat so the mission wouldn’t be compromised. You have rarely been scolded by Price, and always dealt with your paperwork impeccably. The only problem was that you’re too stoic, they never saw you smile from the first day you joined the task force. More like a robot than a human, this is how others evaluated you, and you had an aura that made recruits afraid to speak to you.

You even smiled less than Ghost, at least the man still got some dry humor and bad jokes to spit out, but you rarely reacted to greetings except a nod, less to say about Soap and Gaz joking with you, they were lucky if you spared them a crook of your eyebrows to their teasing that day. but this only made your teammates curious —especially Soap — eager to know the person under the facade, even if it was just a little. Soap wrote down what he discovered from you every day in his journal, from how you always have your tea, to trivial habits like you would frown nearly imperceptibly when you see the cafeteria is out of your favorite sandwich. Soap would tell other men about what he finds about you today, and they would keep those details in mind too. Until the day, Laswell brought a big cake which she was gifted by others but she was unable to finish it herself. They saw your eyes brighten instantly, and an expectant smile blooms on your face. Your eyes stuck on the exquisite big cake in front of you, not aware of Gaz gaping at your smile like he saw the sun rise from the west today, how Price immediately stopped his hand while smoking his cigar so he could take a good look, even Ghost’s eyes were wide like full moon behind his mask. It wasn't until Soap’s yelp that dragged you out of your trance, and you turned around just to find all your teammates staring at you like you were an alien. “Any issues, MacTavish?” Confused, you asked Soap who made you stop staring at the cake. “You- You can smile?” “Did I?” “Well, let’s finish this quickly so it won’t left over to tomorrow” Price raised his hand to interrupt the talk before Soap could say other things “The fridge has no place to put this bloody huge cake.” After Price’s command, all of you walked and took a plate and fork. Price sliced a medium size for him, Ghost did the same. Soap took the knife and sliced a slightly bigger one for him and Gaz, but when he was about to cut one for you, you reached out your hand to beckon a “give me” gesture, which Soap obliged and handed over the handle to you. Only for him to see you slice 1/3 of that damn enormous cake and put it on your plate. “Wha- ye sure ye can eat all of ‘em ?!” His jaw dropped at the huge slice of cake that made the center of your paper plate sink, but only received an “huh” face from you. Well, his concern was unneeded, because you devoured the whole thing in 5 minutes, faster than everyone else, and stood up to cut another piece. “you really like cake ain’t you.” Gaz chuckled at the scene where you almost bury your face in the plate. “No.” “Then why are you smiling like a kid who sees their favorite toy?” Frowning, you touched your cheek to check, and oh shit, you truly were. “I-“ your face changed from :D to :| while you tried to find an excuse “It’s just Captain said that don’t leave the cake overnight, so I’m eating this much, not that I love cake.”

Even though your poor excuse, all of them knew their new goal now: bringing you cakes so they could see the pretty smile enthralled them. The first who brought you cake is Ghost, he saw a strawberry shortcake on his way back to the base, he didn’t think twice before he told the staff to wrap the cake for him. and he was sure his decision was right when he showed it to you, and you two sat in the common area. He drank the tea you made for him as appreciation while watching that pretty smile reappear on your face again. “Look who said they don’t love cakes, and eatin’ like a man who haven’t eaten in days now.” He lifted his mask to his nose to drink the tea, so when you shot him a glare, you could see the smirk spreading on his lips. “You bought it and I don’t want to waste it, that’s it.” you stabbed the fork on the cake. Ghost huffed out a laugh at your answer, but when you went back to swallow a full spoon of whipped cream, he took note in his mind to buy you the chocolate mousse he saw at the store next time, so the precious expression.

Gaz bought you an Earl Grey mille crepe cake a few days after, which was the flavor of your favorite tea. “It’s it good?” He gave you a toothly grin that you thought was too dazzling when the “not bad” slipped out your lips whilst you were busy finishing the cake. He sat beside you and ate the slice you cut for him, and he rambled about what happened today to entertain you. You pretended you were not interested, eyes never left the cake, but you memorized everything he said clearly.

Of course, Soap wouldn’t forget to dig into this breakthrough of yours. A big ‘they love CAKES!’ was written in his journal, with 2 circles highlighting the words. He considered you have eaten crepe cake and shortcake from Ghost and Gaz, so he got you a basque cheesecake. “What is this?” You tilted your head when you opened the take-out box. “basque cheesecake. Heard it from the medics.” Soap watched you attentively take a little bite at the cake, and he laughed when your face beamed up in a second. “Not bad?” He knew you just refused to admit you love cakes. You answered with your cheeks stuffed with cheesecake. “NAOW BAA” After he waved goodbye to you, he came back to his barrack, he opened his journal. a big ‘Basque cheesecake ✔️’ had been added under the circles.

The captain hadn’t let the chances to see your face gleam with happiness slip by too. As usual, you came to his office with a flawless report, and for some debrief about the next mission. When it was over and you were about to leave, he called your name to stop you from exiting. “Is there anything I forgot to tell you, Captain?” Your face was serious, without any improper or unprofessional, but it didn’t last long because Price took out a fresh cream Swiss roll. “You’re going to drool all over your shirt, sergeant.” He teased and received a little scowl from you, but the harmless scowl was unable to stop him from fixating on and mesmerized by the satisfied grin that lingered on your face when you made both of you some tea and started consuming the whole roll.

You got pampered by all 4 men of your team for months. Thanks to the high amount of exercise, you didn’t gain belly fat, and getting lots of cakes from them had you started gifting them things too. You got Ghost some nice whiskey when you came back from leave, which he gladly accepted and invited you to drink together. You gave Soap some snacks from your hometown and stationeries for journaling, and almost get squished into a dough by his tight embrace. Gaz got some game cards from you, and when he surprisingly asked you why you knew he wanted those games for a while, you just shrugged and walked away, there was no chance that you were gonna tell him you had been listening to him and Soap chatting about them. Price entered his office one day morning, and saw his box of favorite cigars and tea being placed on his desk. He realized it was you in the blink of an eye, only you would choose to secretly put gifts and refuse to leave a note indicating who you were. He just patted your head and thanked you when he met you in the training room.

Times flew fast when your life was occupied with missions and training (and cakes). Tonight you went out for a while to buy something for your teammates, since they still insisted on feeding you cakes frequently, recompensing them with gifts they loved had become your habit too. but when you searched from the common room to Price’s office, you couldn’t find any of them. Odd, you thought, you hadn’t heard them leaving the base too, you even searched each of their room, which still lacked their figures. Furrowing your brows, you decided to go back to your room, maybe you could give them tomorrow. What you didn’t expect was when you opened the door of your room, you were welcomed by Soap and Gaz’s exciting voice. “Happy birthday!” “Jesus… I was searching for all of you…” Your eyes rounded “Wait… It’s my birthday today?” “Don’t tell me ye didn’ remember!” Soap, who standing closest to you and with a birthday cake, shoved you playfully with his elbow. “I…” You glanced at the calendar hanging on your wall, unable to form words when you realized it really was your birthday today. “Come take a seat, love.” Price’s words help you fill the silence. You slowly closed the door behind you, and your gaze traveled from the elegant cake, the flames dancing on the candle, to your teammates — the people you trusted with your life. “A cake makes you stupid, sergeant?” You heard Ghost chuckle at your reaction, but you didn’t glower at him this time, because you felt tears welled up in your eyes, uncontrollably. “Oh no, lovie’s going ta cry!” Gaz joked at you while he led you to your seat. You blinked away tears before they could escape, and smack at Gaz’s bicep. “Shut up, Garrick.” The laughs and jokes filled your little room with joy, you sat there listening to Gaz and Soap banter with Ghost about how he was so selective about the cake so they could give you the best one, and as Ghost retorted back, a plate was handed to you. The biggest slice among others, full of whipped cream and fruits decorating it. You picked up the fork and started eating, the sweetness spread inside your mouth, with the fruit neutralizing it and taking the taste to a whole other level. “Ye always smile when ye eatin’ cakes, you know? really like cakes don’t ye?” You raised your head from the plate, and finding everyone looking at you, with such softness you questioned yourself if you were able to reciprocate, and you touched your cheeks, you could feel the corner of your lips curling upwards. but this time, you deepened your grin, warm and fascinating, before you picked up your fork again. “Maybe I do.”

[mingtinys]

" i would do anything for you "

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : traffic violations ( for a good cause ! )

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : it's bittersweet posting this last part of the series :( i'm so sad for it to end cause i've had so much fun , but i couldn't be happier with how it turned out ! thank you to everyone that showed this series so much love and support <3 next up .... an nct series !!

Maybe you're just being paranoid. Perhaps the scratching at your back door wasn't some crazed killer messing with you before the inevitable. In fact, it's extremely likely you've simply stayed up too late and now your brain is playing tricks. But are you willing to take that chance? Absolutely not.

The fifth scratch comes and you're picking up the phone to dial the first person you can think of.

Chan reaches your home at a speed only possible by violating a few traffic laws. Armed with nothing but a broken broomstick and his dinosaur bedroom slippers. You're not even sure he's entirely awake. But he marches his way through your home and straight to the back door with conviction, advising you to stay back while he handles it.

He lowers his voice a few octaves as he speaks. "Whoever is out there, you better knock it off!" The scratching noise picks up. "I'll come out there!" Chan warns, though sounding a little unsure. Yet the scratching never ceases.

At this point, the genius thought to call the police finally enters your panicked brain. Something that probably should have been your first instinct. But it's too late, you can hear Chan thrusting the door open. "Alright, you asked for it– oh..."

When your savior returns, a fluffy orange creature in hand, you feel your face drain of all color. Your friend's cat. The one you were supposed to be sitting while they were away on a business trip. You'd forgotten you'd even let him outside to explore hours ago.

Chan points to the cat with a mock-serious look, "Is this guy bothering you, babe?"

Though severely embarrassed, you let out a sigh of relief. "I'm so sorry, Peanut," you coo at the cat, carefully taking him from your boyfriend's arms and carrying him over to his food, which you're certain is what he was scratching to get in for.

When you spin back around, Chan's arms are crossed over his chest, an expectant look on his face. "You know, usually the knight in shining armor gets a kiss for his bravery."

The playful tone in his voice alleviates some of the guilt you feel for calling him over at two a.m. to defend you from a killer cat. A gesture for which you're more than happy to reward with a kiss or two. And once he's claimed his prize, Chan happily gathers you in his arms. He rubs circles into your back, soothing any remaining anxiety in your muscles.

"I'm sorry you came all the way here for nothing," you mumble into his shoulder. "I guess I watched one too many crime shows and sort of panicked."

"You don't need to apologize. It's my job to be here whenever you need me." He pulls back and takes your face in his hands, holding your gaze with genuine eyes. "I would do anything for you."

That confession earns him a second kiss, causing him to break out in a dopey grin. "My hero," you tease, although he looks rather proud of himself for it.

"One question though?"

"What's that?"

"If you thought someone was trying to break in, why didn't you just call the police?"

Trust, Chan is over the moon to be the person you call in a time of need. But realistically, what was he supposed to do? Fight to the death with his bare hands and a broomstick to save you? He absolutely would... doesn't mean he'd win.

You pause. "I don't know, I guess I just panicked and thought of you first."

Chan is probably going to be riding that ego boost for the rest of his life.

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @armycarat2612

[oneofstarkskids]

"plus...he's adorable"

steven grant x reader, first meeting

warnings: slight age gap?

*not my gif*

finding your passion hadn't been a straight and narrow path. you had no idea how some people just woke up knowing exactly what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives.

in high school you played sports, but they were never something you wanted to do as a career. you recently learned that you love to paint, but it just felt like a hobby. you didn't feel experienced enough to make something of it.

you'd gone to four years of university, majoring in business because it's what your parents wanted. but you were tired. you were so tired and you weren't passionate about anything.

finally, you were sure you were ready to give up. you were in the school library, turning in some text books you'd used, when you just glanced over briefly. your eyes caught the title of a large book.

"If You Are to Love, Love the Moon"

curiosity took over and you picked it up to read the synopsis. by the time you were done, you'd picked out three more books on the subject and plopped them down in front of the librarian.

it took you less than twenty-four hours to finish all of them and you had this burning desire to know more.

which led you here, studying egyptology abroad in london, standing in the national gallery, staring at a poorly constructed pyramid of giza.

"oh bullocks!" you heard a man shout just as something crashed to the ground. you searched for where the noise came from.

your eyes landed on dark brown curls peeking out just above the counter at the gift shop.

nosily, you made your way over. as you placed your hands on the counter you cleared your throat. a man with steven printed on his name tag stood up quickly and gave you a nervous chuckle, "morning."

you suppressed your laughter, "hey there. you alright?"

"me? yeah, fine!" he said unconvincingly. "did you want to make a purchase? i personally recommend the horus figurines. you know, it's believed that he was a benevolent protector in ancient egyptian culture. plus..." he held one up, "he's adorable."

this time you couldn't help but laugh, and thought the same thing of steven himself.

"i'll take one," you said and watched as he rang it up.

he glanced up at you as he put it in a small gift bag, but quickly looked back down when he noticed you'd caught him.

you reached to grab the bag, but paused as your hand brushed his. steven was stunned by the feeling of your hand against his and didn't want you to go.

"do you live nearby?" he asked slowly. you stopped yourself from grinning at the idea of him asking you out.

"uh- because we can ship items in the future," he said instead.

you frowned, "okay. well, have a good day." you took the bag and walked off. the whole thing just made you want to go home.

just as you were stepping out into the street, you were knocked to the ground.

"oh! sorry! i'm terribly sorry, i didn't mean to do that," you heard stevens voice. you got up and dusted yourself off.

"what is wrong with you?" you asked in frustration.

he rambled, "well, many things but that's a topic for another time." you had this look of concern that made steven feel guilty. "okay i'm just going to come right out and say it."

you listened intently. "i would, would you like to- do you want to grab a bite sometime?" he finally got the words out and you giggled.

"i would love to."

steven beamed and nodded, "good. very good." he started to walk away but quickly turned back around, "actually, do you have a piece of paper?"

you searched your purse for a moment before pulling out a small sticky note and a pen. steven took it gratefully and wrote his name and number down.

he handed it to you and you noticed that it read, stev̲en with a v. the v being underlined for emphasis.

you grinned, "see you soon, steven with a v."

[thought--bubble]

Superior

Aemond (Dark Canon Era) X (Arryn Wife Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 2532

Aemond (Canon Era Masterlist)

Full Masterlist

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Misogyny, Dub con heavy on the Dub.

You had actually thought it a perfect match. When you had heard you were to marry the prince.

Prince Aemond was smart, handsome, and loyal, all the things you thought would make a wonderful husband, and he was a wonderful husband. He was not incredibly warm, but he was kind enough. Treated you well, and in this world, a husband that treated you well was, in fact, a wonderful husband.

You were grateful for the match and the connection to the royal family. You were proud to be part of the royal family, especially at this juncture. Knowing you will be a Targaryen during the rule of the first sovereign queen of the 7 kingdoms made you feel like you were a part of the future. A part of a new order. Where women would be seen as leaders and figure heads instead of simple broodmares.

That was the belief anyway.

Until the day that your illusions came crashing down around you, like shards of glass from broken mirrors, hitting the floor and bouncing back up, nicking your skin in a thousand small cuts.

You were shocked when your maids didn't show up in the morning to help you dress. It was very peculiar. Your maids had come from the vale with you. They knew your schedule like they knew their own, and they were never late.

With concern, you move to open the door to your chambers to ask someone to send for your maids. You couldn't wait any longer. The fact that they hadn't turned up meant that something was out of sorts.

Your shock nearly doubled as you found that your door wouldn't open. You pushed and pushed, screamed, and yelled pounded on the door. To no avail. You could feel the stress and panic work its way into every inch of your body. Something was very, very wrong, and your mind began to race with possibilities.

Was the castle being raided? Were you under attack? The king has been so weak for so long. Had someone finally decided to take this opportunity and bring down the house of the dragon? You instincually bring your hand to your stomach. You had missed your moon blood recently. It was still too early to be sure, but you felt like you knew there was a little prince or princess growing in there, and it was your duty to keep them safe.

You waited hours, pacing before the hearth, retunrinf to the door again, attempting to open it or scream loud enough for someone to hear you. You had even begun to cotemplate a way to escape out the window just before the door finally opened and your husband walked in.

"Aemond!" You ran to his arms and checked him over for signs of injury. "Are we under attack?" Your eyes scan his chiseled figures and the pale skin of his neck. There are no injuries to be seen. There are no signs of battle.

"Dear wife, King Viserys has died." He states matter of factly. As much as this would shock the average person. You were not surprised by the indifference your husband displayed at the mention of his father's death. You had learned pretty early on that there was no love lost between the two.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Lord husband." You shift uneasily from foot to foot trying to surmise in your head why the death of the King would leave you locked in your room. "Was it an assassination? Are we in danger?" The only thing you could think of was that Aemond was trying to keep you safe as they once again secured the castle.

Aemond chuckles. "An assassination? Who would waste gold paying an assassin to kill a walking corpse? No, thankfully, the stranger finally came and took him."

"I just assumed," You started. Niw even more confused.

Aemond quickly grips your chin. "I know, this is complicated for you," he coos in a condescending tone.

You pull back from his grasp, irritated at his tone. "No, it is not. What is confusing is why I was locked in my chambers all morning. No chamber maids and no information! If we were not under attack and the king died peacefully in his sleep, then why was I locked in my chambers?"

Aemond clicks his tongue and looks down at you with his one eye. "Preparations had to be made"

You squint your eyes at him. Thisnanswer did not cure your confusion. "So.... I had to be locked in my rooms so you could prepare a funeral?" Your mind was awash with confusion.

"No. We had to prepare the coronation." You stop cold and close your eyes. You had heard the hushed whispers, and the fact that Rhanyera had visited only once the entire time you were married to Aemond had given some weight to those whispers. Yet you didn't want to believe it.

"Rhanyera's coronation?" You ask the question, although you already know the answer. You always wondered if they were going to fight over the throne once the time came, yet you never imagined they would simply snatch it.

Aemond pinches the bridge of his nose clearly annoyed. "No, dear wife. The rightful King has been coronated this day"

"The rightful king? You mean the usurper!" You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. This was wrong. You knew that he knew this was wrong. The king had been quite clear with his intention of passing his throne to Rhanyera.

"My dear kind father had a change of heart on his deathbed." He spits back at you, his words laced with venom.

You scoff and shake your head. The thought that the king would simply change his mind at the last moment was an absurdity. How could the hightowers possibly think that anyone in the realm would believe it?

" You know what it is that your father truly wanted, Aemond! You are a man of honor and duty!" You push against his chest, and he quickly wraps his large cold hands tightly around your wrists.

Aemond looks at you with a smirk on his face, fueling your rage. "My father was a terrible father and an even worse king. He was weak and stupid. Blind to the reality of the situation."

You feel a tightening in your chest as your rage bubbles up. "Oh? And what's that? What's the reality of the situation?"

"The reality is that Rhanyera is a whore, and a liar and is not fit to rule" Aemond grips your wrists tighter beckoning you to challenge him further.

"That is your kin!" You shout in horror at the words he is using to describe his own sister.

"That bitch and her brood of bastards are no kin of mine!" He pushes you back hands still tightly clamped around your wrists.

"Aemond! That's - "

He cuts you off with a snarl pushing you further into the bedchamber.

"You would do well to mind your tone when you speak to me."

"Aemond, stop!" You try to pry your wrists from his grip as he continues to push you back more forcefully. Your feet move quickly in an attempt to keep up with his pace.

When he gets you to the bed, he shoves you down hard upon it.

"You should spend less time worrying about who sits the iron throne and more time on your back as is your place"

He places his knee between your legs pushing them apart.

"Is this how you would want your mother to be treated? Heleana?" You know how much his mother and sister mean to him. How could he think of women this way and still love them so?

"My mother bore the king three sons. My sister bore Aegon two sons. They have done their duty. They understand that their place is behind a man. They are loved and respected for it." He reaches down and grips your throat. It's not hard enough to cut off your breathing but hard enough to keep you in place.

"A bitch can be tamed, something I have yet to do with my own wife it seems." You tug at his hand trying to pry it from your throat. The initial shock of his demeanor was worn off and quickly replaced with a need for self-preservation.

He chuckles lightly and releases you, instead grazing your bottom lip with his thumb.

"I would like you to leave. I wish to sleep alone tonight!" You nearly shout as you scramble back on the bed thinking the matter settled.

"No." Aemond crawls onto the bed with you tugging you up against him by the waist.

"No? I wish NOT for your company tonight. " You arch your back in an attempt to put some distance between you. You want nothing more than to be far away from this man that you are beginning to realize is a complete stranger to you.

"You have a duty to fulfill." The playful lilt in his voice causes your stomach to plummet. He isn't going to leave, is he?

Aemond kisses up the side of your throat. "And you will fulfill it, won't you love?" The condescension in his voice elicits a cringe from you.

"I will not. Not today. " You gently shove him from you, once again attempting to put some distance between you.

"Oh, but you will, my love." he grips your waist tighter and pulls you back to him, pressing the full length of his body against yours.

"You are my wife, and the wife of Aemond Targaryen will be a good wife." He kisses your cheekbone just beneath your eye. The gesture would seem so sweet, so intimate if not for the aggression it is coupled with.

"Aemond, let me go. I wish to rest." As you struggle against his grip, he chuckles and squeezes you tighter.

"You do realize sweet wife that you are not the one who makes such decisions? It is I your lord and husband who makes decisions such as these." He gently bites the base of your chin while pushing his entire body up against you.

You could feel his hardening manhood pressed up against your thigh and attempt to shove him off. You decide here and now that you will fight him with everything you have.

"You have yet to serve your purpose, dear wife." This is the last thing he says before flipping you on your back and crawling over you.

You spit in his face, your rage hitting a boiling point. "Do not presume to tell me what my purpose is. You are not but a second son. You have no purpose."

Aemond's one eye goes dark, but he lets you go, and you scramble back up the bed, finally able to procure the distance you were looking for.

"Leave" you demand with conviction while you try to mask the trembling of your body.

"No." He replies quietly while he continues to simply sit at the end of the bed. You can feel heat pooling in your cheeks. The way he is looking at you. The way he is practically lounging at the end of the bed, seemingly unbothered by his actions. All of it is driving you into a fit of fury.

You seeth internally as he continues to sit and look back at you, a half smirk on his face, and to make matters worse, he starts to palm at himself over his breeches, never breaking eye contact.

Your breath hitches at the sight, and you avert your eyes, battling with yourself to control your breathing. The one thing Aemond knew about you, really knew, was how very attracted to him you are.

As you look away toward the stone wall, counting to three in-between each inhale you hear hits boots thump against the floor.

With more determination than ever, you focus on the wall and your breathing.

"Maybe..... mayhaps...... we could......solve our differences another way?"

You attempt to ignore him. He removes his breeches and then moves toward you, gripping your hand and pulling you towards him.

Before you could say anything, he was on you. His lips pressed against yours harshly. At first, you attempted to resist pushing your hands against his shoulders as he pressed himself tighter to you.

The heat traveling up your body and the tingling sensation that flitted across the tips of your fingers had you give in to your desires.

You kiss him back fiercely. Your lips clashed as your tongue swirled around his. If you were going to fuck him, you were going to fuck him like you hated him, because in this moment you did.

Aemond pulled at your dress, tearing the front of it, too impatient to properly unlace you. As soon as he had it off he ran his hands over your trembling form.

He felt for every curve and every dip along your frame. Taking pleasure in the feel of your soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips.

Your body responds to his touch, a trail of fire left in the wake of his hands along your skin.

"You do know how to be a good wife" He growled in between kisses or bites you could hardly tell the difference anymore.

"Oh, be quiet!" You roll him onto his back and mount him, taking his arms, effectively pinning him to the bed.

Armond grunts in surprise before starting to chuckle. "What are you doing?" His voice is low, his one eye locked on yours.

"Just be quiet and serve your purpose," you bark back, pushing down his small clothes.

His breathing is ragged as you slowly slide down onto his cock. "What purpose is that?" he manages to say between labored breaths.

You roll your hips, applying just the right amount of pressure to your bud to build up your pleasure.

You close your eyes and continue your movements. Making it a point not to reapond. The room is quiet, save for your ragged breaths and quiet moans.

Aemond moves to lift his arms from the bed, but you hold them in place. Hastening your movements panting louder as the knot in your stomach pulls tighter. This act is for you and your pleasure.

"You did not answer," Aemond grunts between moans.

You smile down at him, rolling your hips. You run your tongue over the front of your teeth, but once again, do not respond.

You dig your fingernails into the skin of his arms as you lean forward to give yourself the leverage you need to bring yourself maximum pleasure.

"You are already serving your purpose, Lord husband." You chuckle as you bring your hips down upon his with more pressure.

He closes his eye as he groans. "What purpose is that?"

Your breathing stops as you reach your climax, your body clenching around his. Pulling his orgasm from him almost forcefully.

His head falls back, and his body arches. A long groan escapes his lips, and as he lays beneath you catching his breath, you wrap your hand around his throat.

"Oh?" He chuckles.

"Your purpose? You on your back. Guess I tamed my bitch."

To be added to taglists click Here

[strawberryblue-blog]

Sea of ​​love —Fermin Lopez.

summary: After being in love with Fermin for many years being Gavi's sister, he finally confesses and the sea is a witness of your love.

warnings: none. (mention of alcohol, discomfort, bad language)

word count: +4k.

#SEXYNOTE: I'm sorry for the delay :( I was taking exams. How is everything going? Kisses, love you <3

Laughter erupted in the living room when you saw your brother do something stupid. Everyone knew that Gavi was the life of the night and that his 'guess what' attempts were not something he did very well, even more so when he was drunk but he still ended up being the funniest thing in the world. Unfortunately your mood wasn't the best these days and you were just drowning your sorrows in alcohol.

Trying to forget.

Bottles of beer lay on the floor, on the living room table, sofa and even on the kitchen counter. Summer vacation was something you really loved when it came to coming to your house by the sea, where everything was surrounded by trees, beaches and flowers, a swimming pool with beautiful views and a summer barbecue.

Your parents and sister had gone on a trip and your brother had thought of coming with his friends and inviting your girlfriends for a great vacation. Something you couldn't say no to, as you had been looking forward to it for a long time but weren't excited enough to really enjoy it.

You loved this place but you hated being here right now.

Laughter and screams could be heard all around you, but you weren't really listening to them, not when your eyes were anchored on the boy sitting a few feet in front of you, as if he was the only person in the world. Trying to get his gaze back or at least a little bit of interest from him.

You felt empty, forgotten, ignored and trampled on. You couldn't take it anymore.

"Let's dance" your friend tried to take your hands, but you refused. "Don't be an old lady!" she shrieked snorting.

You smiled a little trying to hide your pain. Your spirits weren't very high today, nor were they a few weeks ago, not after he rejected you like that. You just wanted to drink until you passed out drunk and forget everything.

Falling in love with one of your brother's best friends was a myth for some but a reality for you. A reality that hurt.

Fermin Lopez was the typical young prodigal and kind, who has all the girls at his feet and with that angel face and smile that bewitches, you could not blame them. You had also fallen into his net.

But he would never touch you, his words, not yours.

"Did you come to cry for a man or to fuck three others instead?" your flirtatious friend whispered and pointed to the other members of the group, Ferran, Joao and Pedri.

Your gaze wandered to three drunken boys laughing and joking with each other, playing with your brother and your other friends. You laughed in denial they were just like that, a couple of idiots.

"I'll pass" you whispered. She nodded and kissed your forehead tenderly.

"Well if you don't, i do" she joked with an amused grimace. You laughed before finishing your bottle of beer and watching her walk off after the partying soccer players.

You got up from your spot and walked barefoot around the dining room to your slippers, quickly putting them on. You needed air or to get out of this place before you exploded.

Unseen, you opened the back patio door and stepped out hugging yourself as the evening breeze hit you. It was a pleasant night, the stars were shining brightly overhead, the moon was lighting up the sand on the beach, the tree branches were barely moving.

You sighed a breath of air and took it all in hard. You had been putting up with it all, the journey here, days eating at his side, nights criss-crossing him in the bathroom, evenings and mornings enjoying your own home. It was hell.

You were rethinking to yourself if it had been a good idea to come or if it would have been better to stay in Barcelona, in your small apartment with your studies and your strong emotions. You walked without fear, down from your house until you reached the beach, feeling the waves lapping on the shore. The lighting was dim but at least you could see perfectly where you were stepping and even the moon helped with that. You sat on the sand feeling it grainy under your body, sniffling dejectedly.

It had been at least a couple of years since you had felt this. The feeling of having everything but at the same time nothing, that everything was out of your reach and there was no escape. A tear fell down your cheek and you blamed it on the alcohol that had undoubtedly taken its toll on your body.

You closed your eyes smelling the warm scent of the summer night enjoying the feeling of your limbs burying in the sand when you took off your shoes and the salty of your tears sticking to your face when they came out uncontrollably. Feeling the sensation of being alone in front of the sea with only your feelings drowning you and your bad decisions.

You didn't want to go back to that living room knowing that Fermin was there. You had been on good terms but it was clear that you didn't want to be just his friend and he ignored you completely, except that he felt obligated to greet you when you met in the mornings or ask you for something because he was at your house when Gavi was busy.

After a while behind your back, you heard someone walking by but you ignored them. It was probably one of your friends, your brother or the boys seeing you leave.

Your body was surrounded by a thin layer of clothing, over your summer bikini, giving you validity when the breezes blew your hair. You touched the jacket on your shoulders and its scent came straight to your nostrils, making you bristle.

Damn it.

"What are you doing here?" you heard his voice above your peace.

Your body froze.

You hadn't expected him to come at all, he hadn't even seen you leave, in fact he had never seen you. What was he doing here? Why did he come? To keep hurting you? How dare he? First he ignored you worldwide as if you didn't exist for him and now he appeared out of nowhere with some concern?

"Y/n..." he called out to you when he heard silence. "It's late, it's not safe for you to be alone here, come in the house" he asked from behind.

You raised an incredulous eyebrow.

A hand from his hands touched gently, calling out to you. A shiver ran down your back but you removed your shoulder as if you were a capricious child. Fermin removed his hand quickly at your discomfort.

"I like being alone" came out of your mouth with some wariness.

"I know" he affirmed. Again there was silence but this time, Fermin moved and sat a little away from you. He was respecting your space, you had always liked that about him. He was cautious and kind.

"I like you too" you kept saying. Again you were sure it was the alcohol talking but it was so true.

Fermin sighed. "We talked about... this."

You clicked your tongue. A wry chuckle escaped your lips at the memory.

"Yeah, i know. I'm not your type and you only see me as a friend" you blanched your eyes sighing.

Suddenly, again tears invaded your eyes. But you weren't going to cry, not in front of Fermin.

"It's not that Y/n, you're confused and don't know what you want" he reasoned lifting his shoulders.

"What do you know what i feel?" you snatched raising your voice. "What the fuck do you know what i want!?" you shouted.

The situation was starting to make you desperate and to see him there, so calm with his soft voice and confident feelings. He clearly didn't want you.

"Gavi would never agree to this, it's not right. He's my best friend" he kept excusing himself.

Rage started to build up in your body every time a word came out of his mouth. Why the fuck did he keep making stupid excuses? First you weren't his type, then your brother and now what?

You loved Fermin. Since you were eleven you were in love with him but he never looked at you with different eyes. Was it so hard for him to tell you? Was he such a coward?

"Go away" you asked hugging yourself in the cool night. "Forget everything and fuck off" you spat.

The urge to scream got stuck in your throat when he looked ahead and sighed without saying anything. You were letting him go, why the fuck wouldn't he leave. He didn't want you to come closer, he had asked you explicitly, but why did he come here? He wasn't looking for explanations or he wasn't going to give them either, why had he come in the first place?

He had broken your heart into a thousand pieces from day one. You knew he went out with other girls and that didn't bother you but sometimes it was unbearable, it hurt. Even so, you always kept choosing to love him because the heart doesn't decide who to fall in love with. It just happened.

He had been Gavi's friend since you were little and with that, you also knew him. You had no memories where Fermin was not present as you became a teenager. He was the person who protected you and took care of you, the one who beat up idiots when they tried to get with you, the one who took you home when you were drunk, the one who covered for you when you went out with friends, the one who defended you from Aurora and Pablo when they played with you.

How could you not fall in love? If he was always sweet to you, always watching you with that smile on his face, always worried about you. Fermin wasn't just your brother's best friend, he was like your brother. But you hated that part. Because that was the answer to everything, you were just that to Fermin Lopez.

He knew everything about you and that was your weakest point. He knew how you felt, he knew you liked him and he knew how you were suffering. And that you were a disaster.

You got up from the ground and started walking to the sea. You wanted to get away from him as soon as possible, besides it was all he wanted but he was still there. Sitting silently with his head hidden between his knees like a coward.

Fuck it. Your feet came in contact with the water and you shivered as you felt it was freezing but you weren't going to stop. You were going in deeper and deeper as tears slipped down your cheeks, love was cruel and it hurt to be in love. Why couldn't it be reciprocated, why did it have to end like this?

I guess this was the end. Your end. Not the end you wanted but the only one fate had for you.

Shit fate.

You took a last breath before sinking into the freezing cold water shivering but when you submerged everything disappeared. Your clothes got wet and your hair floated but you didn't care that you were shivering underwater, you didn't hear anything anymore, you were just there. Sinking under your feelings with your broken heart.

The water surrounded your body and tried to push you up but you held steady under it, feeling the silence and darkness beneath you.

At least when you came out Fermin wouldn't be there. Or so you hoped because it would be really embarrassing for him to see you a mess. The mess he had made. He didn't care and it was okay, it was already a hopeless case. You were going to get over it.

Maybe Fermin was right and your feelings were confused or maybe you were infatuated and it would all pass. At least you were praying that when you surfaced it had all been a dream.

When your lungs began to feel the lack of air, you stayed in the water. You weren't going to do anything crazy but you needed a little adrenaline to take your mind off it. Your limbs were cold and the tears had stopped flowing and had mixed with the deep sea water.

Arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you up, pushing you out as your lungs took in air again in desperate gasps.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n!" he yelled trying to help you float, his hands holding your waist tightly as you continued to gasp for air.

Your vision was a little blurry, because of the darkness and the drunken state but your body recognized that touch. His soft fingers pressed against your skin and you trembled.

"It's fucking freezing!" he shrieked again at your silence. "Are you crazy?" he continued. "What would have happened if i left?"

"Nothing, stop acting like you really cared" you replied dryly trying to pull away. You wanted to swim away from him, back to shore and go far away but his arms stopped you.

"I fucking care about you, Y/n!" mentioned harsh. You moved your shoulders catching your breath but when he said your name you were out of breath again.

"Tell me what you want" he said angrily. It was one of the few times you had seen him like that, his eyebrows were furrowed, he was worried but you could tell his neck stood out and he was red, he was definitely angry.

"I told you to leave me" you said again gritting your teeth from the cold.

"I'm not doing it!" he replied but you denied and turned to resolutely get out of the water.

You heard it hit against the water but you tried again to get out, it held you again stopping you. The breeze hit your body and your skin bristled under the water.

"Tell me what the fuck you want!" he shouted at the top of his lungs and you looked up at him until you faced him.

"You, Fermin!" you shouted just as loudly. "I want you" your voice was choppy but you still screamed euphoric.

You weren't afraid to scream. You knew what you wanted and compared to him you weren't going to be quiet no matter if your brother or anyone else could hear you. Even though you were literally inside the sea, there was no one else around but the two of you and your friends were too busy partying to notice what was going on outside.

Your chest was rising and falling and despite feeling your heart almost explode, you dealt with it. Fermin was speechless and then you sighed in denial. Was that what he wanted? To humiliate you again? He had. It wasn't the first time you had told him how you felt but here you were still, feeling your heart break with every feeling.

"You don't understand" he murmured slowly. He was already calm and you were still on fire.

"What, Fermin?" you replied exhausted from the situation.

"I can't choose between you and your brother" he whispered and your heart jumped. "It's not fair" he said taking a step forward.

Why would he have to choose you? You weren't asking him to choose you, you were asking him to love you. This wasn't about Gavi but in some part you understood. And that terrified you too. But it wasn't a valid excuse when it came to love, it didn't matter at all when it was true. You understood perfectly well that sometimes love was unrequited but he always came close and made you feel special, as if he knew exactly what you felt having him around. As if he felt the same but ended up walking away or excusing himself.

"I can't put you in that situation, i can't put Pablo in that situation either" he kept saying. "You don't understand, you're beautiful and i really like you but it's not the right thing to do."

You nodded slowly. Your belly churned and your eyes threatened to tear up but you stopped them. You really had a hard time deciphering if his words were true or if he was trying to comfort you and excuse himself, either way it didn't make sense anymore.

"You are the most beautiful girl i have ever met, you are funny and caring, you loved your friends and family, you always take care of everyone and expect nothing in return" his hands cupped your cheeks and lifted your dull face. The waves gently lapped your bodies and the sound was music behind his words.

Your eyes were watery and your heart pounded, their cold bodies surrounded by water and their fingers were icy but nothing mattered. His touch burned your skin and you felt the closeness of their body, making you sway.

"You drive me crazy" he whispered. "You know what it's like to see you every day? With that beautiful smile but then when you see me it disappears, to see you sad and not being able to hug you, i can't touch you, i can't tell you how i feel about you" he confessed so close to you and your face cradled in his hands.

Were you still in a dream? was it true? or was it a lie? you no longer knew if this was true or if your unconscious was creating a parallel reality to your pain. Although his skin over yours indicated to you that this was really happening, you had never felt it so close, so true, so real before.

"Why?" you asked defeated. "Why don't you?" you pleaded.

Fermin caressed your face, shaking his head, his eyes lowered to your lips and looked at you hungrily, desperately.

"I can't" he barely said.

He wanted to kiss you. Those words were an attempt to converse to himself, Fermin wanted to kiss you. His voice trembled and he refused holding back.

"I can't" he repeated and you didn't let him think about it.

You were probably going to regret this but you couldn't help yourself and kissed him. You took his face and pressed your lips against Fermin's, taking him by surprise. But as if it was an instinct, he reciprocated a few seconds later.

The feeling of happiness invaded your stomach and you felt how the whole world revolved around you. It wasn't the first time you kissed a boy but it was definitely the first time you felt something like this. A shiver ran from the tips of your toes to your last hair and made you bristle. Fermin's hands took your waist delicately groping the area before placing them there.

The kiss was delicate, awkward and tender. As if it was a first time. Because it really had been, it was the first time you kissed Fermin and you knew it was going to stay engraved in your heart. The waves moved your bodies but Fermin's hands held you tight and made you feel safe.

"You have no idea what you just did" he whispered as your foreheads pressed together.

"I didn't do anything" you jokingly defended yourself.

"You do everything" he said again and cupped your face in his hands.

His eyes shone like headlights and you wondered was that if how the stars above you looked. The touch of his skin against yours was familiar, Fermin always touched you but this time it felt different.

Again his lips sought contact with yours but you stopped him, pulling away a little to make space between you. It was obvious you wanted to kiss him but you were afraid that after he kissed you, Fermin would run.

"You said we couldn't" you murmured biting your lip.

Nerves were itching in your belly and you were desperate to feel his lips but you couldn't let him hurt you again.

"You kissed me first" he replied whimpering. You smiled in denial.

"Because i know what i want!" you squealed determined. You had always known and not because you wanted to meant he could use you.

Fermin sighed releasing your cheeks. The chill ran through your body again as he moved a little further away, pulling away from you.

"Pablo is my best friend" he said scratching the back of his neck.

"So what?" you snatched, you were going to get it all out today.

It was all or nothing.

"Don't do this to me, y/n" he pleaded worriedly.

You weren't doing anything. Nothing he didn't want, was he going to blame you? Couldn't he set the record straight? For not wanting to admit how he felt?

Pablo was not an obstacle, you knew that if this was real he would support them. Of course it would cost him, first he would get angry and act offended, then he would too but in the end he would accept his. And if he didn't he'd be damned, it was your damned life and Fermin's.

"Aren't you afraid?" he asked taking a step closer. You lifted your shoulders.

Of course love was scary. Everyone painted it as something beautiful but after being ignored several times by Fermin you were beginning to believe that love was just part of Disney stories.

"It's okay if you want to let me go but you have to at least try first" you complained disappointed.

"I don't want to hurt you" he mentioned and his arms grabbed your forearms again. You wanted to pull away but Fermin took you in his arms and wrapped his arms around you against his body. Again you felt his overwhelming warmth and the cold disappeared, at times you felt on top and at others underneath.

"You already do..." you whispered so slowly that the words vanished on the breeze.

"I'm sorry, Y/n" he apologized squeezing you. "I love you and I don't want to lose this thing we have" he said in one ear.

"We won't lose it if you really want me" you admitted.

"I really want you" His eyes spoke before yours.

Your heart was pounding a mile a minute. You were agitated and excited at the same time, you wanted to kiss him, you wanted to touch him, you wanted Fermin to hold you and not let go. Your fingers caressed his locks of hair and his hands took your waist, rising up to surround it and stay on top of him.

"Let's not tell Pablo yet" he whispered kissing your forehead softly.

His words made you raise your head until you could see his face. Had he really said that?

"Tell him what, Fermin?" you asked pretending not to notice.

"About us" he murmured clear and precise.

Every atom in your body began to jump with happiness. A smile was marked on your lips and quickly spread it towards the boy.

About us. It sounded unreal coming out of his mouth. You had always had feelings for each other but only you would admit them. Now he was the one saying it and you began to wonder if that's what love felt like.

Fermin grabbed you by the face again.

"I've been in love with you for as long as i've known you, i don't understand how i could endure these years, i don't understand how i could push you away like this" he whispered caressing you.

Your eyes watered. The night was perfect. You surrounded by darkness, under the starlight with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the water surrounding your bodies, it felt like a real dream you had ever had.

Only this time it wasn't.

You were here, in the sea, your favorite place, with your favorite person.

"I really love you, Y/n" he said firmly.

He couldn't hold it in any longer and brought their lips together again.

[cheeseceli]

What Do You Even Know?

Pairing: Hyunjin x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, small drabble

Words: 765

summary: Hyunjin finally realises he doesn't know as much as he thought he did, and he once again discovers something new

request: I can’t help but think of Hyunjin telling someone how much they mean to him as basically a confession and the other person is kind of shy about it and didn’t think he could see them like that and he’s like “ahhh what do you even know” it won’t leave my head 🤞

authors note: tumblr hates me atp i swear. anyways, not proofread as always but yeah

Hyunjin thought he knew a lot. Of course, he wasn't cocky enough to think he knew everything, but he wasn't clueless either. He knew he loved to perform and to be on stage. He knew he liked to eternalise moments through art and photographs. He knew the boys were his family after living together day after day for 5 years. And he knew you.

He knew he loved your smile and would make anything on his power to keep it on your face. He knew he loved your laugh even though you hated it, and he knew it would physically hurt him everytime you tried to silence it. He knew he hated seeing you cry, and it was so unfair because even then you looked beautiful. He knew he was happier by your side. But he didn't know why.

Hyunjin always had a curious nature, so he couldn't help but wonder why you were so… different. No, he was the different one whenever he was next to you. But you were so casual abou it that he doubted you felt it too. Have someone else noticed it? He acted differently around you, he was sure, but why would-

"Hyunjin?"

He looked at you when he heard your voice. Actually, using better wording, he focused on you once you called his name, as he was already looking at you while he was thinking. He noticed your eyes, how they were shining even when the lighting was bad. Your eyes would've looked so pretty if they weren't filled with worry.

"What?" he replied with a slightly hoarse voice, noticing he probably didn't say anything in a while.

"You looked a little bit lost in thought just now. Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

You gave him a small smile, a smile that immediately took some weight off his shoulders.

"Nothing much, I was just rambling about some annoying coworkers. What were you thinking about?"

He tried to articulate his thoughts. Truth is, he didn't know what he was thinking about. Right now, his mind was blank and all he could focus on was the domesticity of the situation. It was a friday night at the dorm. It was too late for you to go back to your home, and even though he didn't say anything, you both knew he was silently asking for you to stay the night. The lights were off and the living room was being iluminated by the moon. Your legs were resting on top of him, his hand slowly caressing your skin. He was thinking about it all. He was thinking about…

"You."

You were taken aback by his blunt words. You didnt't expect him to be so straightforward. And you'd never expect him to think about you so intensely.

"Oh? Care to explain?"

"Just, you know, how I've changed since I met you." He averted your eyes from you, knowing you were observing him, searching for a more detailed explanation "I don't know, I feel like… like I've changed for better?"

He dared to look at you once again. You were watching him so dearly that he felt that he could lose himself on your features once more. Just like that, he understood why he felt so good by your side.

"Yeah, I've definetly become a better person because of you. I am more aware lately. I'm enjoying my life more. I think it's because I get to live it with you."

You were speechless. Even though he didnt't look at you throughout his somewhat confession, you could still feel the genuine feeling behind each word he said. You chuckled, not knowing what to say.

"Wow, I… didn't know you thought of me like this. I'm touched." you said, half in a whisper, half in a giggle, still processing what had been said to you.

It was Hyunjin's turn to laugh lightheartedly to your words, the meaning of his speech sinking in meanwhile he slowly realised what was happening to him, to you both.

"What do you even know…"

Later on, you'd finally realise what he meant with those last words. For now, he was enjoying, aware of the warmth your body radiated towards him. Because now he knew he liked the way you cared for him and why he'd have a smile whenever you crossed his mind. It's because he loves every detail about you, every flaw, quality and insecurity. Above all, he loved you, and now he knew it.

Feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

Header by @cafekitsune as always

[chaneydoll]

LAST MINUTE CH. 2 - AUSTIN BUTLER

SingleDad!Austin x reader

Warnings: Fluff, unedited writing

Word count: 1,605

Summary: The day has finally come, and Austin is over the moon.

The week leading up to the date crawled by like a snail on Valium. Austin found himself humming along to love songs he hadn't touched in years, meticulously trimming his beard every other day, and even attempting a new, slightly less disastrous hairstyle (thanks to Liam's enthusiastic, if questionable, hairstyling skills).

Liam, surprisingly well-behaved in a new shirt and gelled hair, declared himself "official chaperone" and spent the afternoon "preparing" for the date. This involved constructing an elaborate fort out of blankets and pillows in the living room, complete with a stash of snacks for "emergencies."

Austin stared at his reflection in the mirror, the knot in his stomach tighter than the button-down he was struggling with. This wasn't just a Saturday night with you. This was, he dared to believe, the start of something more. His heart thundered a nervous rhythm against his ribs, echoing the pounding of miniature fists on his bedroom door.

"Daddy, Daddy! Are you ready?" Liam bounced excitedly, dressed in his best superhero shirt and a mischievous grin. Austin forced a smile. "Almost, bud. I shouldn't keep her waiting, should I?"

His grin widened. "Nope!" He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm almost finished. Now go wash your face, little dude. Auntie Ashley should be here in a few minutes," he tells his son. With Liam occupied, Austin took a deep breath. He could do this. Y/n was just another person, right? Just incredibly kind, intelligent, and beautiful. Okay, maybe not just another person. But still, he could be charming, could he not?

He straightened his bowtie, a last-minute addition courtesy of Liam's enthusiastic rummaging in his dress-up trunk. It was slightly crooked, adding a touch of endearing awkwardness to his attire. Taking one last look, he grabbed the bouquet of peonies they'd picked earlier, a vibrantly colorful reminder of their afternoon adventure.

The feminine voice he knew and loved filled his ears as he made his way to the living room, where Liam and Ashley stood. All of the attention was now on Austin and his appearance.

"Austin, you look… dapper." Ashley's eyes twinkled with amusement. "And Liam, your bowtie is magnificent!" Liam puffed out his chest, grinning proudly. "Daddy helped!" She smiles at the boy, who was shaking his tie frantically.

"Sorry I'm late; Jupiter would not eat for the life of him. Did I miss anything?" Austin managed a weak smile. "Just an Injustice League attack on Metropolis, nothing crazy." Austin teased, bugging his son.

"It was crazy! Batman and Superman almost died!" Liam shouts, dramatically throwing his face in his hands. He ran back to his "lair," his attention solely on the architectural marvel before him. The laughter died down, snapping Austin back into reality.

Ashley's grin widened. "Relax, Aus. You're a catch. Y/n's gonna be smitten." She says, throwing her hand on his shoulder. Her words were reassuring, but he couldn't shake off the feeling of inadequacy. He wasn't the charming, smooth-talking type. He was just Austin, a single dad with Lego-covered floors and a permanent stain on his favorite shirt.

The butterflies in Austin's stomach did a synchronized tap dance as he stood at your doorstep. He'd dreamt of this moment for months, replaying it in his mind a thousand times, each iteration ending in a different shade of awkwardness. Yet, here he was, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, and a first date with you, his charming next-door neighbor, stretching before him like an uncharted adventure.

You, however, radiated warmth and ease. Your smile, as bright as the string lights adorning your porch, instantly calmed his jitters. He stared, his heart leaping into his throat, as your figure emerged. You, bathed in the soft glow of the lighting, looked breathtaking. Hair was loose, cascading down your shoulders, along with a white sundress that hugged your body in all of the right places.

"Hey," you said, your voice as captivating as the fall foliage swirling around the two of you. "Hi," Austin stammered, suddenly self-conscious about his button-down and slightly wrinkled jeans. "Sorry I'm..."

"Late? Not at all," you interrupted, your smile widening. "I was just cleaning up the house a bit before you came." He nodded, revealing the bouquet from behind his back.

"These are for you," he says, his voice slightly deeper than usual. Your cheeks flushed. "Thank you, Austin; I love them."

He stumbled over his words, "No problem. I, uh, thought pink peonies would be... bright, like you." Cringe. He mentally smacked his forehead. Your tickled laughter, however, quickly chased away his embarrassment.

"That's sweet," You smile, taking the flowers from him before setting them in an open vase that was on your counter. The platform sandals that gave you no justice with your height difference between you and Austin were slipped on as you walked back to your door.

"Lead the way." You say, extending your arm. A laugh bubbled up from his chest, genuine and unrestrained. This wasn't the stuffy conversation or awkward greeting he'd envisioned. This was Y/n, unique and unexpected, just like you'd always been.

The autumn leaves crunched under the tires as Austin navigated the winding road, the headlights painting fleeting shadows on the trees. Beside him, your laughter filled the car, a melody sweeter than any radio station. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, his knuckles white under the light filtering through the car windows.

Dating again felt like driving a stick shift blindfolded after years of a reliable automatic, Austin thought.

"Is everything alright?" Your voice broke through his reverie, concern lacing your tone.

He swallowed, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just... remembering how bad I am at parallel parking." You chuckled, your hand reaching out to squeeze his arm briefly. "Relax; we can always find a garage." Your touch sent a jolt through him, and he fought the urge to glance at you.

As you two entered the warm, bustling restaurant, the aroma of garlic and herbs embraced your nose. The air was filled with the gentle chatter of families and couples, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Austin led you to a secluded table by the window, offering a breathtaking view of the valley bathed in the soft hues of twilight. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow on your faces, creating a sense of intimacy that sent a shiver down your spine.

"This is so cute," you murmured, voice barely a whisper.

His heart rate quickened. "I'm glad you think so."

The waiter arrived—a friendly man with a thick Italian accent who immediately took a shine to you. As you ordered, Austin found himself captivated by your animated expressions, his eyes not tearing away from you once.

When the food arrived, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything and nothing. With each bite, with each shared laugh, it was clear that Austin could get used to this.

He spoke of Brooke, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he described the situation. You listened intently, eyes filled with warmth.

Your hand reached across the table, the touch sending shivers down his spine. "Sometimes," you said, your voice low, "you gotta learn to let things go, even if it isn't what you want." The air crackled with unspoken desires, the space between the two of you shrinking until it was barely there.

Then, the spell broke as a loud toddler scream erupted from the table next to you. The moment, fragile and precious, was shattered, leaving a bittersweet longing in its wake.

"Well, if that isn't Liam in another form, I don't know what is." Austin deadpans, rolling his eyes. You burst into a fit of laughter, taking another long sip of your wine.

"Oh, not Liam." You say, throwing your hand over your heart. He picks up on your sarcastic tone, "He's pretty perfect, alright."

The city lights blurred past Austin's windshield, mirroring the kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within him. The restaurant's warmth had faded, replaced by the crisp autumn air and the never-ending fluttering in his chest.

Silence stretched in the car, comfortable yet charged. Austin stole a glance at you, in awe of the way your hair framed your face, the moonlight casting soft shadows on your features. Does she feel what I'm feeling? He thought. As he pulled up in front of your house, a pang of disappointment shot through him.

He walked you to the door, the silence once again charged with hidden emotions. He stopped, hesitating, unsure of what to do next.

"Austin," you say, "thank you for everything tonight." For a breathless moment, your eyes locked, desires simmering in the air. Then, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "No, thank you, Y/n."

Austin leaned closer, your faces mere inches apart. The tension was unbearable, the air thick with anticipation. Then, he closed the gap, softly grasping each side of your face as your lips met in a kiss that was slow, tender, and filled with promise.

It was everything you had imagined. Austin went above and beyond for you tonight, and it made the kiss well worth it.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Austin's eyes were noticeably darker as he caressed your cheek.

"Good night," he whispered, his voice deep.

"Good night," you echo, lingering for a moment before reluctantly stepping back.

As he watched you disappear into your house, the warmth of the kiss lingered on his lips. He made his way back to his abode and met with Liam, who was probably looking forward to this date more than Austin had been all along.

"Daddy! Did you kiss her?"

[mooseyhischier]

too deep to turn back, to the moon and back au

to the moon and back masterlist

to the moon and back taglist

to the moon and back playlist

Summary: Rose finds out that she is pregnant in her dorm room with her best friend Dylan, but is overwhelmed with fear about sharing the news with Luke.

warnings: pregnancy, lmk if there’s more !!

levrete's Notes: hii, happy thanksgiving to anyone who’s reading this !! 🫶🫶 i’ve had this written for a day and decided to post it on thanksgiving. I’m so excited to start writing about this au !! i hope you guys enjoy this!! sorry for how short it is !! 💌

September 2021

Rose sat in her dorm room bed, her hands were trembling as she stared at the positive pregnancy test next to her in disbelief. her heart raced, and a wave of fear washed over her. She didn't excepted it to come back positive. Rose couldn't tell Luke. not yet. the only person she thought of to call was Dylan.

"hi rose" Dylan's voice filled the phone.

Tears swelled up in Rose's eyes as she choked out, "Dylan, I think I'm pregnant, and I don't know what to do. I'm scared to tell Luke."

Dylan's voice soften with concern. "oh, Rose, take a deep breath. Ill be over there as soon as I can."

Within minutes, Dylan arrived with a comforting presence and a few pregnancy test. Rose took all of them, her hands trembling more than before. As all the test appeared to be positive, rose couldn't help but feel mix of emotions flood through her.

Sobbing, Rose collapsed into Dylan's arms. All Dylan could do is hold her as tight as he could , offering words of comfort and reassurance. "hey, you're okay Rose. We'll figure this all out together."

"but Luke, Luke is going to leave me. This is going to jeopardize his career." Rose said choking out most of the words.

Dylan gently wiped away Rose's tears and looked into her eyes with sincerity. ''Rose, I understand your fears, but you can't assume the worst without giving Luke a chance to react and support you. You and I both know he loves you, and I believe he'll stand by your side no matter what the out come will be."

Rose sniffled, her voice shaking. "but Dylan, he's been working so hard to establish his career. This unexpected pregnancy could derail all his plans he worked hard for. I don't want to be the reason he gives up."

Dylan nodded in understandment of Rose's concerns. " I know it's a lot to process, but you have to remember that relationships are built on trust and communication. you owe it to Luke to be honest with him. Let him decide how her wants to handle this situation. You both can find a way to navigate through this."

After many days of replaying scenarios and laying in bed crying, Rose finally mustered up the courage to tell Luke. With a heavy heart, they both sat down at the edge of her bed, her hands were trembling as she hid the pregnancy test. Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of fear and anticipation. She had been dreading this moment for what felt like eternity, but she knew she had to tell him sooner or later.

"Rose what's wrong? Why're you crying" he asked, his voice filled with worry. in all his years of knowing Rose he had never seen her cry this hard.

taking a deep breath, Rose mustered up the courage to speak. "Luke, I...I'm pregnant" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for his response.

Luke's eyes widen in surprise, all his mind could do is try to process the news. he stood up and took a step back, momentarily stunned. rose eyes continued to flow down her face, her vulnerability laid bare before him. he quickly realized the impact his reaction had on her and rushed forward, enveloping her in a warm embrace.

''oh Rose" Luke murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. ''im not leaving you if that's what you think. Never in a Million years would I do that. We're in this together. I love you."

Rose's tears turned from ones of fear to ones of relief. She clung to Luke, her heart swelling with gratitude.

"how long have you known? and how did you find out." Luke curiously asked her not breaking their embrace.

"I found out a couple days ago. I just didn't know how to tell you. I was scared." Rose said softly "Dylan was with me I didn't know who to call, im sorry"

"it's okay, wish you would've told me the day you found out, but I get it. I just want you to know i'm not going anywhere." Luke reassured her.

Taglist: @devilinpradaheels @lavendercuddles @absolutelyhugh3s @simp4hughes

[houseofhyde]

ii. a game of westerosi chess.

pairing. daemon targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. the six chess pieces in the king’s game and how your uncle calls checkmate. read the first part here !

warnings. niece!reader, targcest, possessiveness, themes of sexual/romantic ownership, alicent slander (im sorry, i love her, but this is daemon’s pov and we all know that man wakes up every morning and makes the conscious decision to be a hater), daemon being a filthy pervert (affectionate), smut ( masturbation, breeding kink, voyeurism, dacriphilia, virgin kink- if that's even a thing-, implied bi!daemon )

word count. 11.3k

taglist. @nyctophilic0vitnir​

hyde’s input. yes, i could have just made them get married after the events in part one. no, that wouldn’t be as fun as watching daemon suffer. i went and fucked myself over a little though because i never realised how much i’d struggle to write from his point of view without the fear of making him too out of character or his behaviour feel, idk, fake? empty? idk what the right word is but yeah. i caught the flu and have had sick-brain the whole time while writing this so who knows if the writing is even comprehensible lmao :)

disclaimer: i’ve never played chess (i'm too dumb for that) so pretend any incorrect comparisons are simply because there’s different rules for chess in westeros <3

when daemon targaryen was five years old, no more than a mischievous little babe who haunted the halls of the red keep, there was no one greater in his eyes than his older brother.

his older brother who bonded with the largest dragon; who snuck wine into his cup when the adults were occupied with their political indiscretions; who stood up for him even in times where he was the culprit. 

his older brother who had the longest winning streak in the whole of the red keep when it came to chess.

from maesters to the king, and ladies in waiting down to his own mother, there was not a single person within the castle who could face viserys targaryen in the game of strategic moves and walk away undefeated.

it was an understood fact: viserys targaryen was a master at chess.

one day, after catching his younger brother, moon-eyed and fresh-faced from wondering the dragonpit in search of a dragon to claim, and now spying upon his winnings against a pretty maiden, viserys had called the boy over. with daemon captivated by the sight of the chess board, the older of the two felt the cogs in his brain turning, an idea spawning.

you see, when one becomes the best at something, there is no more challenge. no fun to be found when you’re no longer sat at the edge of your seat wondering if this person will finally be the one to best you. and, so, viserys thought if no one else was good enough to beat him, he’d need to create a worthy opponent.

enter onto the scene, daemon targaryen.

with him being but a child still, viserys began his teaching with what captivated the little boy most: the figures which sat atop the checkered board.

“this, brother, is the pawn. it’s the least worthy piece, but do not let that fool you into thinking it is weak, for anyone may wield power if they work hard enough. a pawn may become a queen, just as a fool may become a lord.”

the rogue prince, now a man of three and thirty, awakes with one thing on his mind: his niece.

he’s always been a restless sleeper, not even in dreams would he escape the havoc of his own head and the inner-workings of it. and, though he’d scarcely recall the images his sleeping mind would conjure, the evidence comes in the state he’d find himself in: sprawled diagonally across the bed, the pillows which had once provided rest for his head now scattered along the floor and the bedsheets- which scratched uncomfortably on his skin, a slick of sweat oozing from his pores and leaving him looking glazed, like a freshly cooked hog at a feast- now a wrinkled tangle around his waist, trapping his legs in the cotton confines.

he spies the familiar lick of sunlight casting through the closed curtains, affirming that dawn has indeed passed and a new day is upon him.

running a hand over his face, a disgruntled sound escapes him, sluggishly moving himself to sit up right, that familiar yet new ache in his back flaring up and begging for release in the form of stretching limbs and extended muscles. age has begun to sneak up on him, grabbing him in it’s clutches and reminding the egotistical man that he is just that: a man, not a god, much to his own displeasure.

the hand departs from his face only to pause midair. a smell, heady and musk infused, reaches his nostrils. it’s dirty and grimey in every way yet enticing him to seek it out again, to sniff out wherever the odour is coming from and bury himself in it till he suffocates.

tentatively, he retraces his movements till his fingers dance over his face once again and realisation kicks him like the hoof of a horse, hard and with a lingering pounding.

only, the pounding comes from his crotch rather than his skull.

the smell is you, in all your dribbling, soaking, honeysuckle glory, stained on his skin like the slaves of volantis are stained with ink.

another inhale floods his senses with the memories from last night, replaying the feel of your bodies pressed together in dance, and your hand squeezing his almost painfully tight as he leads the way to your chambers, and the eager spreading of your legs as he at last satisfies his hunger for you- a hunger which had started sometime after you’d first began to present the figure of a woman, all supple breasts and pouting lips and silhouettes made of dresses that hid from view the naughty parts of you your uncle’s cock ached to see.

the voice in his head, which more often than not drives him to behave erratically, this time is but a whisper, a seduction of craving and curiosity that has him slipping his hand further down, brushing over the fine line of his lips and awaiting entrance as he parts his mouth open, brushing his stained digits over his tongue.

a jolt of heat burns down his spine while the sweet tang of your taste invades his senses. like biting through a lemon, the taste should repel him in every way, flood his soul with shame and leave him disgusted in himself.

instead, he licks his tongue in a silent plea for more.

the thought of never bathing again crosses daemon’s mind, unwilling to wash away the evidence of the peak he’d driven you to with nothing but his fingers. gods help the world when he finally gets his cock in you, for he’s likely to become a deranged, dirty shell of a man too busy getting fill after fill of your pulsing cunny to ever plunder himself into the oil-infused waters of a bath.

you’d be so sweet for him, a little harlet for him to mold and bend and break into every which-way he desires you. and it’s that thought, plus the taste of your dried essence, which has the rogue prince’s cock stirring beneath the tangled sheets.

desire awakens much like a dragon would: slowly and, then, all at once, eyes wide, chest huffing and puffing, and body arising from the ground.

the prince kicks the tangled sheets off, no thought given to whatever corner in the chambers he tosses them towards, eyes and hand and mind too focused on the once flacid organ between his leg growing more solid and red in the tip as the moments pass.

“fuck...” he means to only think it, yet speaks it aloud into the solace of the room as the warmth of his hand makes itself familiar with his cock.

he gives himself a tug, dry hand meeting the movement with resistance yet the layer of skin which conceals his soon-to-be seed soaked slit retracts enough to allow the blushing head of his cock to poke through. while he’d typically prefer to wet it with a whore’s cunt, or slicken it with whatever mindless ointment he could find laying around, daemon finds himself gathering his own saliva and spitting a fat drop of it into the palm of his hand.

the glide of his digits over the organ becomes easier, allowing him to work himself into full-blown hardness, cock taking over the use of his brain and sending him into a state of restless lust, demanding to be fed and satiated with the emptying of his stones, preferably into the warm, pulsating, tight cunt of his little dove.

while the prince does debate his ability to throw on a robe- or, even, roam the halls in his nude glory- and seek out your likely sleeping form, to watch as you startle awake with the breaking of your maidenhead and cry out for your uncle to fill you with his spend till you’re swelling with his bastard, he decides he prefers the thought of making you wait a little longer, see how much he can test the limits of your impatient desires.

after all, a maiden always feels best when her cunt’s as soaked as her crying eyes and her mouth’s spewing plead after plead, begging for his cock.

while one hand works over himself, the other sneaks it’s way back into his mouth, lust bursting into bright colours as he licks over the taste of you, soaking it into his bloodstream and making you part of his genetics- just as he is part of yours.

daemon allows his eyes to slip shut, sinking into sweet fantasies and mental pictures of bouncing tits and blood stained sheets, only to reopen them within an instant at the sound of his chamber door slamming against the solid wall.

“oh my!” a young girl dressed in rags turns her back on him as quickly as she notices his naked form, as if allowing him to compose himself and make himself presentable. “i’m so sorry, my prince! i would have knocked but he said i should simply let myself in!”

daemon makes no attempt to find cover.

“do whatever it is you need to do.” he speaks with a tone far too relaxed for a man who’s still got a grip on his cock. if anything, the raggedness in his breaths comes from his frustrations of losing the flavour of you on his tongue. “don’t stop on my account.”

she hesitates upon facing him again, eyes clearly wandering off from her own commands and glancing down at his exposed crotch more times than he imagines she’s comfortable with. from the look of her, she’s young in age- likely only recently blossomed into a woman- and, at the thought of his being the first cock she’s ever seen, he feels himself grow closer to his peak, a sick and twisted satisfaction buzzing through his veins at the possibility of giving the sweet girl her first sense of visual arousal.

when the shock passes, yet still lingers in her features like a harsh cough irritates the throat, she makes her way fully into the room. in her arms, a tray with a mass of food, enough to feed a lord and his men for several nights. without a word, she lays the assortment out on the large table within his chambers, hands shaking under her own nerves.

meanwhile, daemon slows the flick of his own wrist, teasing his cock with the impending satisfaction. a smile, too faint to be seen yet present enough that he feels the slight stretch of his lips, births itself as he considers who this offering of a feast may be from.

“what’s this about, girl?” he throws the question out into the air, clear amusement in his tone.

“the king, my prince.” just as he expected. “he’s ordered this be sent to you.”

and so it begins, he thinks.

his brother is buttering him up, showing a sign of good-will to have daemon in his good graces when he orders the rogue prince betroths himself to the king’s pretty daughter, her supposed virtue now a pile of crumbled ruins in the eyes of the court. as if he needs convincing to take such a sweet young thing to wife, the perfect little bird made of blonde hair, valyrian blood, sugar-coated cum and the sweetest song of whimpers and pleas.

“then make sure you let my brother know how eager i am to receive his feast.” he can feel himself reaching the edge of his peak, tethering off the edge and seconds away from painting his hand white with wasted seed.

perhaps the serving girl will lick it clean for him.

“of course, my prince.” once finished with the arranging of the feast, the maiden straightens out some wrinkles in her skirt- though it does nothing to clean up her looks- and begins to make her way back toward the entry to his chambers. “the king will be surprised to see you so agreeable, though it will help soothe his unease, my lord.”

“his... unease?” daemon’s movements stop, the air runs dry and the girl visibly stiffens, hand curling around the door handle and clenching it as if it is the only thing giving her support.

clearly, she’s said something she shouldn’t have.

“i must go, my lord.”

“unease over what, girl?”

“you... you don’t know, do you?” she’s beginning to irritate him, speaking in riddles and shaking like a leaf in the winds of winter.

“answer me clearly or i’ll have your tongue.” the girl can not see the way he moves off the bed, nor the way he spies his eyes towards his trusted sword propped against a wall, but she certainly hears the loud thud of his feet meeting the floor, feels the darker shift of energy in the room as the rogue prince makes a threatening advance towards her.

“ser gerold royce, my prince...” he’s near certain she lets out a pathetic whimper, like a wounded doe. “he’s proclaimed himself as lord of runestone.”

the world comes to a stand still as her words flood over him.

while the prince is frozen in his spot, face an empty canvas devoid of emotion, the young girl makes a swift exit, wise enough to not wish to stick around long enough to bare witness to the hot-headed prince’s reaction. the slamming of the door on her way out seems to startle him back into motion, naked limbs striding across the room and grabbing at the door. he twists the handle and gives a harsh tug, strong enough to have the wood smash as it collides against the wall.

the door does not open.

he attempts again, and again, and again, and is met with the same resistance each time. only then does it dawn on him- the feast, the unease- this was never about his brother keeping him in his good graces.

this was about the king keeping him locked away in his chambers.

“next, you’ve got your knight. while still not a very point-worthy piece, this holds power in the way it moves, jumping over pawns like a real knight slices through his enemies with the point of his sword.”

four days pass by slowly within the confines of his chambers.

at first, he rages. pacing the floor till the plush carpeting runs thin, hacking away at hand-crafted furniture his ancestors had sat upon and broken fast at, mouth dropped open in a bellow of impassioned words of all the things he plans to do once he gets his hands on his older brother, most of which start and end with his grip on the king’s neck.

then, he tries rest.

it’s a hopeless attempt, though, as the thoughts are running far too rampant for him to ignore the fact he’s confined within his room, not a clue of what his brother has done in regards to runestone’s rebellion. then come the thoughts of you, his little dove, likely hurt, and confused, and needing your dear uncle’s guidance on how to continue onward, how to outsmart the wretched ladies within your father’s court, how to ensure you do not wind up married off to some boring oaf of a lord, with not a drop of valyrian blood in his veins.

after sleep evades him, and rage consumes him once more, he switches to pleasuring himself, hand squeezed tight around his cock and working over the sex organ till he’s completely spent, his sack drained and nothing but pathetic droplets of seed painting his skin by the eight, ninth, tenth peak he drives himself too, fuelling the fire of his lust with past rendevouz- the pentoshi whore he’d fucked in front of her own husband, the nights he’d spent in the streets of silk in rooms where cups and cunts were shared amongst the crowd, the young knight who’d sought him out after a tourney and cried out as daemon stretched the tight pink hole of his arse- and with future desires- the slapping of his stones against your pearl as he takes you from behind, your pretty eyes struggling back tears the first time he fucks his cock into your silky wet hole, the sick, and nasty, and down-right degenerate want to bend you over the small council table and shoot his seed into your womb for all those wrinkled cunts to bare witness to.

ultimately, it’s the memory of how you taste that sends him spiralling for a tenth time.

the rogue prince is a sexual deviant, that was the very first whisper that had flooded the keep about him. and oh how he’s worn it with pride over the years, a twisted joy found in watching their outrage each time he speaks of crass and acts on sin.

even so, there is only so much he can take until he reaches his limit. and, thus, with his cock feeling like it may fall off if he does not give it some recovery time, the prince returns to raging.

that is how the king finds him, sword in hand and the expensive fabrics that once made up the curtains leading onto a balcony now nothing but tattered rags on the floor.

“i must say, daemon, this takes me back.” viserys’ tone carries amusement, which licks at daemon’s ire and coaxes it back to life, hand gripping the hilt of his sword as the prince reminds himself- despite how infuriating the king may be- that he cares deeply for his older brother. “me entering your chambers and finding you amidst a temper tantrum.”

the prince is quick on his feet, turning on his ankle till he finds himself gazing upon the face of his brother. he’s dressed in his finest robes, a mixture of reds and blacks, yet daemon does not miss the green jewel on one of his fingers. the crown upon viserys’ head reflects the sun, shining offensively in the prince’s face as if to more harshly remind him of the inheritance he’ll never claim, the throne he’ll never sit.

“what is the meaning of this?” daemon bellows and instinctively raises dark sister, the tip of the blade pointed directly at his brother.

the sound of kingsguards drawing their own weapons floods the room yet the raise of viserys’ hand halts them all in their defence, calling his brother’s bluff.

“i had some business to attend to.” the king speaks so casually, as though he’s discussing the recent weather or what he’d eaten for his supper the evening before.

“so you imprison me in my chambers as if i am some ill-behaved child!” daemon means to question him yet his words come out as more of a statement, an acceptance of the matter at hand.

“yes, well, what kind of idiot would i be to let my brother wander free in my castle while i’m grasping at straws to prevent a war?” the room grows more tense with every exchanged word between the two brothers, a feat which doesn’t go unnoticed by the guards who stand by the king nor the maidens who had rushed in after the reopening of daemon’s chambers, scrambling around to tidy the place up. “a war which you started in the first place.”

it irks something in daemon, the way viserys remains level headed whilst he’s pacing the room, and gripping his sword, and releasing his frustrations in bursts of loud voices and disgruntled grunts. condescending in every way, it sends daemon into a headspace where he’s no longer a man-grown and, instead, a tear-stained child being reprimanded by his king and grandsire.

he liked to torture young daemon who, despite his best efforts, was always prone to outbursts of emotion- outbursts the old man liked to meet with calmed expressions and tired words of disappointment, dismissing his grandson to bed.

it seems to be a commonality shared among kings, antagonising daemon.

“a war i started?!” and yet he falls for the trap every time, meeting viserys’ passive with his aggressive, striding those few steps closer till he’s a hair away from touching the king with his blade. still, his brother holds off his guards. “and how do you suppose i done such a thing while being imprisoned!?”

“cool it with the theatrics, brother,” viserys punctuates his exhaustion with an eye roll and gives a single nod of his head, giving the kingsguards the go-ahead to swarm around daemon.

a pair of them, both young in their knighthood and matching in face, grab at the rogue prince’s arms and hold him in a stand-still while another guard plucks the weapon from his hand. daemon shoves against their hold and is met with more resistance.

dark sister is passed among the guards, each hand that touches it being added to a tally of people on daemon’s list of men to disembowel. finally, viserys holds the weapon, examining it like it is the very first time he’s seen it.

“daemon, it brings me no joy to do this,” the king starts up again, eyes meeting the glaring amethysts of his brother. “but with the tensions arising and war creeping over the horizon, i can not afford to risk anything going amiss.”

“get to the point, brother. you’re speaking in rhyme as if you were some bard.”

“very well. from now until i decide you are not a threat to this kingdom, your confinement will be stretched from your chambers to the red keep. you are to carry no weapon and you will step no foot out of this castle.”

“you’re a fool if you think i’ll agree to this.”

“it is an order from your king!” viserys lets the mask slip, intentionally or not, and his irritation shines through like the stars paint themself across the dark sky. “and if that’s not enough to keep you in line, you will also be monitored at all hours of the day, every move you make within these walls will be shadowed by that of a knight of my choosing.”

daemon targaryen considers murdering his brother.

“and i see no man more fit for the job than ser criston cole.”

for the first time in his life, daemon targaryen may just go through with it.

“the bishop may be similar to the knight in it’s point count, yet it moves differently. while a knight can not move three times in the same direction, a bishop must stay within the colour it started in. think of a bishop like a maester: chained to an oath it can never break”

he’d rather be forced to endure a lifetime of self-flagellation than another moment of this conversation.

“it is in your best interest, your grace, to cut this state of anarchy out from it’s roots before any other houses chose to follow in the footsteps of runestone.” the new hand of the king is certainly an improvement from the hightower cunt, daemon can’t deny it. yet a part of him feels the knife of betrayal twist deeper into his back upon realising his brother had not only ignored his own warnings of the green lord till rhaenyra brought them up too, but he’d once again given the role to a random lord in his court rather than his own brother. “we have cause to believe that the dandarrions may be next to follow, given the less than kind words your daughter had for them during her tour for a marriage.”

“then there is the matter with the lannisters and, of course, the never ending tensions with the dornish folk. they’re more weary than ever, since someone,” maester mellos has never been a subtle man, despite all his supposed wits and knowledge, and so it flies over no one’s head when he takes a glance at the rogue prince and his standing guard, the insufferable man who’s made himself daemon’s shadow. “went to war with the triarchy.”

“my apologies for riding you all of that tyrant crabfeeder!” daemon speaks for the first time since he’d been forced to sit at the small council. “i’ll be sure to stand by and allow the next one to rip you all to pieces.”

daemon drowns out the rest of the meeting, uninterested in hearing his brother grovel at ways to keep his subjects at bay, as though they are the ones that rule over him.

gifts of gold for the dandarrion, a knighting for the lannisters’ youngest lords, peace-offerings in the forms of poetic words, and sweetened fruits, and lavish silks for the dornish. each gift more empty than the last.

it’s the mention of your name that brings him back into the room.

“were she here, we could have used her as a bargaining plea for one of these stronger houses,” ser lyman beesbury is the one who speaks and, with each word, the rest of the councilmen grow wider in the eyes and stiffer in their seats.

daemon explains their otherwise odd reactions away with them simply feeling uncomfortable discussing you in his presence, everything changed and nothing the same since sometime between the night he had you pressed against your door and his confinement within the keep.

upon release back into the castle, he’d searched for you first of all, paying no mind to criston cole as the knight struggled to keep up with his rushed footfall, mind too focused on the renewed anger he wished to placate with his cock in your mouth and the further destruction of your purity, all in the name of spiting your father.

when he’d reached your chambers, however, he’d found nothing but a mess of emptied trunks and an unkept bed.

“the princess is not here.” ser criston had spoken between gasps of air, chest heaving beneath the unnecessary layers of chainmail and armor his position forces him to wear.

daemon had demanded an answer for your whereabouts, only to quickly realise the knight was none-the-wiser. it was the new hand, ultimately, that clued him in, over sips of wine and looks of caution from other council-men amid a private feast.

“driftmark, prince daemon.” he’d dabbed at the corners of his mouth with poise and composure, everything about the man seemingly perfected for politics, serving only to irritate the prince further. “the princess has accompanied her older sister and her new husband on their trip to laenor velaryon’s home.”

that was the last daemon had heard of you.

a near moon later and you were still out of reach, likely turning your nose at the smell of salt that coated the walls of the velaryon household and wondering why a certain red-speckled dragon had yet to swoop in on the island, carrying the cause and answer to all your problems upon it’s back.

“dare i say i agree, your grace,” another of the men chimes in, his words barely a whisper at first, glancing nervously toward the king. “perhaps we may write for her return and see to it that a betrothal be made.”

daemon chooses to observe viserys in this moment, eyes trailing over his features and taking note of every wrinkle in his brow, every greyed hair within his unshaven face, every upturn and scorn of his lip. there’s a wave of unease that’s fallen over his brother, and it only grows with every moment that the lords speak of you in the rogue prince’s presence, the air thick with the discussion the two brother’s had yet to have regarding the rumours of your deflowering.

“and, tell me, my lords, what you suggest we tell the princess’ current betrothed?” maester mellos, ever incapable of holding his tongue, barks across the table, deathly unaware of the looks that befall the council nor the tensing of daemon’s shoulders. “the king is trying to avoid war, not further instigate one by implying her current betrothal is not good enough, that house-”

“that’s enough!” the king rises from his chair all at once, slamming his hand down on the table and commanding the attention of everyone in the room, more so when he recoils in pain. all at once, the rumours of his declining health and the effect it’s had on his body feel all too true. “there will be no further discussions of my daughter nor the prospect of a new betrothal. what’s done is done and i will not go back on my word to appease your fear-mongering speculations. we will continue our diplomatic relationship with these houses and ensure they do good to remember who sits the iron throne.”

the men obey like sheep, each bowing their head and mumbling false reconciliations.

one by one, they all take their leave.

first, lyman beesbury, who with pale face and solemn eyes lays apologies at visery’s feet. next, the master of laws and maester mellos, neither of them wasting time with niceties and opting for a mere bow towards their king. when all the chairs lay empty, save for daemon’s and the king, silence runs thick through the room. neither brother moving, each testing their unnamed opponent and awaiting the first blow through the tension to be made.

daemon grows impatient.

“unless corlys velaryon fucked a new son into our lady cousin and had the babe birthed in a matter of days, i do wonder who you’ve betrothed my niece to on driftmark.”

“do you know what your problem is, daemon?” though viserys’ words come out with inquisitory tones, he leaves no space for the prince to answer. “you’re so busy with your own schemes and plans that you fail to see when you’re the one being played.”

daemon feels small.

for a moment, he’s no longer a man grown into a soldier, with a mighty sword and a fearsome dragon. instead, he’s frail and weak, and staring across at his older brother as he beats him once more in the game of knights and checkered spaces, a taunting look on his face as he knocks over the little boy’s king piece and declares himself victor.

when the moment passes, he straightens his posture and rises from his seat, and reminds himself of the words his mother would comfort her crying babe with each time he failed to win, whispers of how there’s always something to be gained in any loss he finds.

he settles with leading his brother further into the trap of rumours him and his niece have conjured up together.

“i hear your new wife is fond of the seven, brother.” the prince reaches to grip the hilt of his sword, only to find an empty space and the reminder that he carries no weapon as of late. “ask her to pray for your daughter, i don’t believe she tasted the bitterness of moon tea after our evening together.”

the king does not call daemon’s bluff.

“this right here? the rook, worth more than the bishop or knight, yet less than the king or queen, it is an allusive piece. play the game wisely and your rook may trap the king, leaving it with nowhere to run.”

with the passing of another moon, daemon plunders deeper into insanity.

he’s always been a man of possession, the kind who owns and conquers and takes. objects, lands, people. they’re all the same in daemon’s chequebook of ownership. and, while living a rather messy and unkept life, he enjoys the pleasantness of having his possessions in his line of sight, like the sword he’s worn at his hip since the old king bestowed it upon him, or the seating he takes at every royal feast, chair angled perfectly to keep his eyes on the brother, nieces, family he possesses.

with dark sister out of reach and his most recent favoured family member out of sight- the pretty niece he’s silently layed his claim on-, destruction is imminent.

no longer does he debate with his own inner-turmoil over if he will go against the king’s orders but, rather, he questions when.

when will he redeem his previous loss against ser criston cole, beat the knight to the ground and steal his weapon as he lays unconscious?

when will he slip through the cracks in the castle walls, making use of the secretive halls built by maegor the cruel himself and slice through any guard who may attempt to get in his way?

when will he take the skies atop his fire-breathing mount, fleeing the city of whispering cunts and chees-playing fools?

the answer to each questions comes back to one thing, one person, one possession he needs to locate first.

you.

the events to follow the council meeting had lead him to several conclusions.

the first, and most obvious one, was that you clearly were not on driftmark, as lord strong had so boldly claimed. the second took him a few sleeps to fully decide upon but, remembering the words spoken of your betrothal among the council men and the apparent greater houses they could have given your hand to, daemon crossed off the possibility of you being in winterfell, the young stark lord likely too prideful to entertain the king’s earlier propositions of marriage after the way you’d left him amid a feast to go and- falsely rumoured- fuck your uncle.

with the dandarrions, the lannisters and the dornish folk already ruled off the list, it left daemon with few options.

his strongest lead is the baratheons, a long-standing connection between the two houses and a recently widowed lord who’s previous wife had gifted nothing but girls from her womb, it took no genius to assume a targaryen bride would serve him well.

daemon will soon find out he's wrong.

there’s an unease that takes over someone’s chambers the moment they notice something has been tampered with, whether it be as silly as a glass moved a few inches across a table or something as significant as a chest of drawers laying open when they’d clearly been left shut.

it tickles the back of the prince’s neck this very evening, skin rising to mimic that of a goose as he trails his eyes over his surroundings.

he’d returned to his chambers later than usual this evening, the day spent cornering council-men and threatening them- daemon had quickly discovered they feared him less with no blade to slice through them and his own personal minder at his back, that ridiculous kingsguard armour reflecting every ray of sun and every burn of candlelight.

daemon had taken to tormenting the poor ser crispin only a matter of days into their forced companionship. he figured that, if he may no longer seek joy in the streets of silk or the bloodshed of his enemies, let him at least take pleasure in the squirming discomfort of a man he loathes entirely.

“my niece,” he’d spoke as the two sat through their usual quiet supper together. “did you enjoy fucking her?”

“i did not fuck princess y/n.”

“well, of course not,” daemon pushed his spoon back and forth, passing time while he thought up his next taunt. “my younger niece has always had the more refined taste out of the two of them. rhaenyra, on the other hand, well she’d fuck a hound if it licked her the right way.”

“all this from a man who preys on his own blood for his sexual deviance. you and i both know what you done to your niece, how you seduced such a-”

“my nieces have always seemed so alike. both pale haired, both sharing the same smile, both wearing the same dresses.” the knight and the prince had long abandoned their food now, discussion heavy with daemon’s accusation of ser criston abandoning his own vows and committing what he can only imagine would be declared treason, deflowering a princess. perhaps soon the two will share something in common. “now i wonder if they feel the same. you must know, so tell me, did rhaenyra’s cunt grip your pathetic cock in a vice that threatened to ruin any other woman for you? or is that a trait only my youngest niece possesses?”

even now, hours into the late night and several more cups of wine drowning in his system, daemon can not bite back a dry laugh as he recalls the astound look upon the knight’s face, a mixture of disgust and discomfort.

he’s seated- more accurately speaking, he’s draped- upon a chaise, muscles tense and mind racing, in need of distraction. most of his nights end like this now, several emptied pitchers of wine along the floor, red staining his mouth and his own figure collapsed over whatever surface he finds first. occasionally, he’d attempt to have his way with a serving girl, ignoring the looks of ser criston as he stands guard outside his chambers and watches the prince enter with his partner for the evening, yet most were dismissed before daemon could satisfy himself, a mixture of his own drunken incontinence and their far too placid natures.

at least the whores of the silk street make him believe they want him.

letting out a groan, he sinks further into the seat, legs bent at the knee and feet planted firmly on the ground as he lets himself lay back fully. he’s contemplating taking rest here for the evening, and weighing the likely-hood of awakening with a new pain in his neck. 

it would certainly be a more comfortable sleep than the would he’d taken last night, back slumped against a wall and body sat atop the cool marbled floor.

he makes his choice, limbs too tired to make the few paces to his bed, and resigns himself for the night, twisting once more to find the most comfortable position upon the chaise and closing his eyes.

only to reopen them instantly.

something rustles. that feeling of unease creeps in once again, slow like fog over the horizon, hazy and threatening, and cold in every sense of the word. someone has been in his chambers, is in his chambers, and they’ve left something askew.

his eyes dart over the room, trying to assess every nook and corner and crevice within it in hopes of spotting a pair of spying eyes or unsettled objects. struggling due to all the blind spots his position has created, daemon heaves himself back into the upright position, figure slouched and back curved uncomfortably.

the rustling happens again.

he shoots up from his seat, wondering if his inebriated state has begun to create delusions, or if the psychosis caused by staring at the same red walls of the keep nonstop has finally begun to take over. he must be going mad, he thinks, eyes scanning over the whole of his room as he turns in place, cursing the more he notices nothing out of the ordinary.

until he sees it.

there, placed exactly where his tired limbs had been mere moments ago, lays a note.

it’s folded over and sporting a strange yellow blotch in one of it’s corners while, in the centre, written in the blackest ink so delicately and flowery it near stirs his cock in his breeches, kepus.

he snatches at the paper, near tearing it in two with the speed he unfolds it, eyes racing over every scribble and every swirl of pretty inked words.

the rain is the only thing that brings me comfort these days.

the letter begins and, while the writer has still not identified themselves, the prince is more than certain he knows who is speaking.

i’ve never been a fan of change (i’m sure you recall my horrid tantrums as a child whenever my mother assigned me a new handmaiden), yet never have i faced one so large. where in the capital i spent my days with books and needles and rides upon dragon’s back, here i am told to sit quiet as a mouse, as though i am merely another ornament within the lord’s home. where i once spent nights rolling my eyes and wishing to be excused from public feasts, here i cry and ache for a morsel of socialising outside the lord’s inner circle. where once i slept sound over the small folk screaming and cheering into the late night, here i sit awake by the window and listen to each raindrop.

i am not built for the cold, both in weather and in people. they frighten me here, which is a thing i never thought i’d need admit to. there are no whispers here, only silence. but their eyes, they speak paragraphs of hatred and disdain and ill-intentions with a simple glance. i need not worry if they will eat me alive here, but rather whom will be the one to do so. in the capital i’ve always felt untouchable, first because i was my father’s daughter, a princess of the realm, and, when that began to lose effect, you stepped in and taught me safety can be found in another, with your advice and your combat training and your inability to let me fall asleep without you on my mind.

i’ve developed a sick obsession for you, uncle, and it is entirely your fault.

he’s sunk back onto the chaise, hand gripping the letter tighter as a mixture of worry and anger stirs up in his loins. worry over the tales you tell, anger for the possibility of this being a sick game, a note written by some pathetically bored serving wench aiming to ruffle some feathers.

he decides he must keep reading to uncover the truth.

and so, now, it is with heavy heart that i must admit i’m disappointed. don’t perceive me as foolish, for i am wiser than some maiden who believes the things i feel for you to be love. but i always believed there was understanding between us, two different souls yet so completely immersed and knowing of each other’s drives and needs. even when i was a child, you were always the first to notice once i was too tired to continue with the festivities or when i craved the thrill of sneaking down to the dragonpit to spy upon the great beasts. i thought you’d understand, too, that this is not the life i wishfor: a husband with the personality of a wet piece of parchment and a life of silence and gloom.

i am a dragon, just like my sister, and my father, and our ancestors. and a dragon can not grow in a cage, so why have you let them put me in one? you agreed to help me, to ruin me for any other lord so that my father would have no option to but to wed us, leaving us both to our own devices. you, gaining that valyrian wife you always wanted while not changing your whorish ways, and i, earning the freedom i would not find shackled to some low achieving, overbearing, egotistical man. yet i now have a betrothed who’s hair is brown and who’s house has no dragon.

i will risk writing this only once, for the spiders may not spin their thread here but they still bite, and ask this of you: speak sense into my father. tell him i’m with child, tell him i’m a threat to the realm, tell him i’m plotting my own death. tell him any lie you need to put a stop to this betrothal and bring me home, to where i belong.

or, outsmart him and simply come rescue me yourself, like some knight on his white stallion (caraxes would likely singe my hair off if i ever dared call him such a thing in his presence).

i’ll be awaiting your next move, uncle. be sure you play wisely and don’t lose both your princess and your king.

coldest regards,

your little dove.

p.s. i have cum to learn that, while my fingers are indeed skilled, they are nowhere near as good as yours were, kepus.

the intensity behind the stare he holds the note under may just set it alight.

no longer does he doubt who could have written such a thing, the mentions of your joint ploy to deceive the courtiers and the wording used to describe the connection shared between you both marking the undeniable truth of the letter’s author. 

perversion brings him to reread the final sentence, mind fully registering them and flooding him with pink hued paintings of his pretty niece, as nude as the day you were born, now flushed skin and hardened nipples and honey dripping down your thighs as your dainty hands fail to fuck themselves as deeply as his had.

daemon can’t help but wonder what his little dove must think of in moments of self-pleasure, questions of whether you were depraved enough to think of men doing unspeakable things to you or if you merely blush over the memory of your uncle.

reading over the last part two more times, his eyes scatter back up the page- first, in an effort to avoid having to deal with his own impending arousal, and then because he feels compelled to read over the letter once more, eyes scanning over every detail.

it takes an unknown number of reads for him to notice a code among the words, a subtleness of ink layered to appear harsher, darker, more noticeable than the other words upon the parchment.

i’m, where, you, once, were.

i’m where you once were.

an inexplicable sense of pride comes over him, the fact his little dove has found a way to tell him something whilst, simultaneously, telling him nothing. were your worries true of spiders and the risk of one of them reading this letter in the time it took to reach him, he doubts any of them would be wise enough to notice the message, much less decipher it’s meaning.

and, while he applauds your display of wits, he despises his own inability to comprehend it. if you are where he once was, where had he been?

just about everywhere in the seven kingdoms, is the unfortunate truth.

by the time sleep at lasts takes over him, daemon has gained two things: the letter you’ve sent and the unbreakable will to move in on the king at last.

“the objective of chess is to protect your king while attacking your opponent’s. you must back the king into a corner, leave him with no way out, place him in check. only then will you be able to call checkmate and win.”

daemon nudges the knight with his foot.

as they’d sat for supper that evening, the prince had felt doubtful of the contents in the vial. he’d pinched it from the grand maester himself and, though he payed no real coins, the prince would argue he payed a grater price: feigning interest in conversing with old crone. a near three hours he’d sat, listening to the man drone on and on, till at last he’d excused himself to relieve his bladder and left daemon with a window of opportunity, his ointments and medicine all in a neat little display.

having little time, he’d grabbed at what he was sure to be milk of the poppy- a significantly smaller dose remaining within the vial compared to the rest- and tucked it in his trousers, at last excusing himself from the bore of a lifetime.

it wasn’t difficult to slip the liquid into a cup of wine, nor was it particularly hard to convince ser criston to drink from it, inviting the knight to join in on his empty toast towards the hightower queen and yet another pregnancy.

hours later and ser crispin lays slumped over outside his door.

daemon gives one more nudge for safety and, when the man merely slouches even closer to the ground, he grabs at the knight’s weapon and nestles it in his own scabbard, making use of it for the first time in two moons.

the hour is late and most of the keep have given in to the temptations of rest, yet the prince still travels the halls with caution, one eye looking over his shoulder. he half expects every guard he passes to seize him on sight, spewing some nonsense of his wrongful weapon or non-permitted solitude. with luck he reaches his destination, no one to spy upon the way he enters into the emptied library nor to witness as he shoves a bookcase aside and steps into the tunnel.

his memory serves him well, even after all these years, navigating himself through the interconnected secrets of the keep. he passes rooms of lords laid in bed with women they do not call wife, and ladies disrobing for the evening, and the still empty chambers of his little dove, till, at last, he reaches where he wants to be, not bothering with patience before barging his way out of the tunnel and into the regal chambers of the king.

“it took you longer than i expected.” daemon had counted on his brother being the one wearing shock upon his face, yet it is the prince who plays the fool, stepping into the room to find his older brother sat at a table, goblet in hand and a familiar checkered board in front of him.

it irks him to hear the king even imply he’d been expecting his arrival.

“don’t you have a wife to be bedding, brother?” he steps deeper into the chambers with caution, eyes on the empty bed and the lack of sight of his brother’s breeding mare.

“pregnancy, daemon. it works wonders on a woman’s body,” he takes a sip of his drink before reaching to pour a second cup meant for the prince. “it’s just a shame one of those wonders comes in the form of my wife snoring louder than a lion roars.”

it’s strange to hear his brother discuss details of his new bride.

daemon had never sought answers for their marriage, yet he’d forever questioned what had driven his brother to marry such a girl, childhood friend of his eldest daughter and so clearly lacking the backbone needed to stand up for herself against the injustices forced against her by her own father. were the prince a more gentle person at heart, perhaps he’d find it in him to pity her.

instead, he sees her as just another thorn in his brother’s side, waiting for the chance to poison his mind and seat one of her wretched babes upon the throne.

“come, come,” dragging him out of his thoughts is viserys once more, now half-hovering over the table and moving his limbs back and forth, hands carefully placing each piece upon it’s designated checker. “sit down! let us play!”

only as he’s seated across from viserys does he notice he’s been bestowed with playing the blacks on the board. never before was he allowed, the older of the two always insisting black was his lucky colour and refusing to play the whites.

in truth, daemon has always suspected his brother had been to fearful to play white, not knowing how to make a good first move and relying on his opponent to instead kickstart the game and give him places to move his pieces.

“isn’t it a beautiful board?” the elder must confuse his staring as a sign of fascination, gawking at the splendour of it. “it’s the very same one mother gifted me after i bested her for the first time.”

there it is, that familiar lick of envy, a sick and cruel twist in his guts as he stares down at an object viserys gets to remember their parents by, while all daemon ever got was disapproving looks and half-hearted embraces. perhaps the rumours are true and the prince has a complex which forces him to pity himself, to cast a shadow upon his own image and declare that it was a wrong forced upon him by others.

or, more likely, the consequences of watching his parents prop viserys up on a mantelpiece whilst leaving him in a corner to collect dust had lead him down the path to the destructive man he’s become.

even when he’d claimed caraxes, he could only imagine what his father’s reaction would have been, were he still alive to witness it. 

impressive, but your brother claimed the greatest dragon to have ever lived, the one who the great conqueror rode upon and forged a throne under the black dread’s flames.

“‘tis exactly the same as any other chess board, brother.” he lets petty feelings spin lies on his tongue, rolling his eyes and disregarding the clear etherealness, the intricate carvings on each piece and the extravagant linings of the board, and each of it’s shimmering onyx and quartz squares.

daemon downs half his cup in one sip, eyes trained on his brother’s first move.

king’s pawn forward two spaces, a strong start and an immediate attack to the centre.

it’s fitting, daemon thinks, for this to be the first move his brother makes while leading a game. while a powerful start, it’s rather obvious, one he’d seen viserys defeat in a manner of mere seconds. perhaps age has taken away his astute mind and skill for the game.

daemon retaliates, moving one of his bishop’s pawns forward two spaces.

with the crease that forms in viserys’ brow, daemon delights. his brother was not expecting him to move in such a way, likely expecting him to do something erratic like bringing his queen’s pawn forward.

the pair continue to move in silence, sips of wine and scratching of pieces echoing around the chambers. it’s deceivingly peaceful, nothing like the confrontation the rogue prince had geared himself up to walk into. while he’d awaited bursts of anger and scathing accusations and marks of betrayal, the two sit like children once more, moving empty objects in an imitation of politics.

the only difference is daemon appears to have the upper hand, a growing collecting of white pieces stored to the right of his long-ago emptied and refilled cup.

as always, it’s daemon who takes the first bite.

“i’m afraid i must pay you your dues, brother.” his words slip through his own smirking lips, satisfaction rolling in by the hundreds as he spies the white king, slowly losing places to hide on the board. “it’s truly applaudable how you managed to not only secure one daughter a marriage amid questions of her virtue, but two! young helaena will follow in her half-sisters’ footsteps, surely.”

viserys’ hand pauses mid-air, his remaining bishop held in his grasp. his grip tightens with each passing second. the older has always been more level-headed, that no one can dispute, but the rogue prince will forever swear up and down, high and low, that it is his brother who carries the more foul temper.

viserys’ anger is just harder to weed out from behind false niceties and calmed breathing.

“if you mean to say that helaena will be so lucky as to marry a noble man, filled with honour,” he lays his bishop down at last, not managing to capture any of daemon’s blacks. “then yes, i should hope so. both the betrothal of my eldest daughter and my middle-born were to good men, faithful lords. my helaena will be lucky to do the same.”

“you never did quite tell me about y/n’s betrothal, brother.” the king chuckles at daemon’s words, empty amusement in the obvious statement the prince makes. still, he makes no attempt to stop him, letting him string the conversation along to the dreaded topic between them: the rumours of what daemon had done to you. “last i spoke with her, she was rather... occupied with something other than the prospect of marriage. when you announced her future union to her, did she drop on her knees and kiss your feet in gratitude? or did she spit at you and-”

“did she drop on her knees for you?” the raise in viserys’ voice is minimal yet enough to have daemon smirking over the rim of his cup, amused to see his brother being led into his trap for once.

he makes his next move on the board fist, plucking his knight and moving it over one of his own pawns. if he plays is cards right, messes with his brother’s head just the right amount, perhaps he won’t notice how he’s moving in on his king.

his only hope is to keep talking about his little dove.

“so that’s what you wish to discuss, brother? how it felt to fuck your young daughter?” for the first time he speaks the lie out loud, no hiding behind innuendos nor insinuations. they need to believe you’ve stolen my virtue, kepus, were the words you’d whispered to him, face still fresh from dried tears and teeth stained purple with the wine he’d let you sip from his glass late into the night as the rest of the world had slept, they need to think that you fucked me.  he’d sworn an oath to you, to put on a show and ruin you beneath the judgement of others. he’ll be damned if viserys becomes an exception to this oath. “because i can go into detail, you needn’t beg. i can tell you of how it felt to have her squeeze around my cock, and how she arched that little back like a cat, spine curving deeper each time i pounded into her. i can tell you of how she begged for her uncle, her kepus, to shoot his spend into her aching womb and-”

a screech rings out as viserys’ chair flies backwards, the king rising to a stand and glaring down at his brother, who only sinks deeper into the velvet lined seat and allows himself another sip of his glass, face painted in pure amusement as viserys’ reflects that of an angered dragon.

“enough! i will not have you speak such atrocities about your own niece!”

“oh spear me the lecture of the seven, brother!” the hypocrisy to shun him for lusting after his own kin, it has to be the hightower cunt’s doing. feeding lies into her new husband’s head, any means to have his true-blooded targaryen daughters removed from the line to the throne. daemon at last feels himself begin to irk, a scowl engraving itself into his forehead. “your own beloved, your late wife, shared blood with you and you never once objected to bedding her. it is our family’s birthright to keep the blood of the dragon burning hot, not dampen it with that of lesser folk. i mean our parents, for gods’ sake, they were siblings! are you going to tell me it’s wrong?”

“this is not about you being her uncle, daemon. this is about you being you! and her being my sweet girl, one of the last pieces of aemma-”

daemon can’t help himself, flying out of his own seat with the slam of his hand on the table. the pieces rattle under the impact, the white queen toppling over and sending her pawn flying off the board.

“your sweet girl who you let be slandered by the same lords who break bread at your table and drink from your cups!” the prince stands taller than the king, shoulders straight and head held high as he flips positions, becoming the one staring down upon his older brother, who’s slouched and frailer than he once was, hands searching for the steadying hold of the oak table. “tell me, brother, where were you when she drank herself sick as they spoke on her fertility? what did you do when they mocked her for being scared after an attack on her life, in her own chambers!? did you even ask her what happened between us before you shipped her off like cattle to the slaughter, let her tell you it was she who asked it of me? she detested the thought of marrying some unknown lord so much she’d rather destroy her maidenhood and her honour, but you wouldn’t see that, too blinded by your own downfall into becoming a boot-licker for all these cunts who hold land in your realm.”

viserys can only stare, frozen where he stands and eyes widened in bewilderment at his brother’s own outburst, chest heaving in anger and hands shaking with adrenaline as he points towards the king.

“are you in love with her?”

no more than a whisper, so quiet the rogue prince is almost sure he imagines it.

till the king repeats himself.

"gods, don't be ridiculous!" it’s neither a yes nor a no, and daemon is so painfully aware of this, aware that he gives no real answer to your father nor himself.

the concept of love and all it entails has never appealed to the prince, at least in the way it’s presented in song and written of in history. all his life he’d heard of knights who’s lady love was a gem they sought to hold, to sing songs of faithfulness and dance around with hands entwined by marriage. of men who made themselves better, kinder, more gentle, all in the hopes of pleasing their lover and winning her hand. daemon had never experienced such a feeling.

while love is something most feel in their heart, daemon feels it in his loins.

it’s a hunger that consumes his very being, aching, and growling, and demanding to be fed with bursts of passion and shouts of anger. it’s a possession he needs to take, to mark someone as his, in every sense of the words. his to own, his to touch, his to drown in expensive gifts. his love is not kind, but brutal, and loud, and forceful, never leaving room for the rest of the world to doubt it. it makes him want to march into battle, to burn down cities, to spill the blood of any who dare harm the object of his obsession. his love is a fire that burns him from within, spilling out from his skin and scorching everything in it’s path.

the prince is not sure if he wants you to burn in its flames.

“but i could give her a greater life than any other man in this realm.” what he is certain of is that he will not stand by as your father let’s you be ruined by someone other than him. “a good man means nothing if he can not keep her safe, or even happy. at the very least, wedding her to me would mean her husband is someone familiar. she wouldn’t have to leave her home, or change her ways, or even bare a child if she does not wish to.”

viserys sighs, tired body dropping back into his chair and his mangled hand reaches up to brush over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeeze shut. the prince almost believes he sees a flicker of resignation, winning his brother over at last or exhausting him so deeply he sees no choice but to accept his words as truth, if only to silence him.

instead, the king reaches for the board once more, an airy laugh escaping him as he examines the placement of each piece. leaning over, he sits his queen back up and drums his fingers on the table.

he laughs once more.

"after all these years, daemon, you still struggle to capture my queen."

“but your queen, daemon. the queen is where you hide all your power, look for where your opponent keeps their queen and there you shall find true victory.”

the words of years ago spin round and round in the prince’s head.

his eyes, glued to the board, watch as the king moves his queen out two spaces and captures daemon’s knight, snatching it off the board and tossing it over his shoulder. viserys looks up, awaiting for daemon to continue the match, to put an end to it at last.

but he’s too stuck on the phrasing his brother had used, stubborn in his belief that it’s meaning has little to do with the game upon the table and, rather, the one that’s being played with words and whispers and undisclosed betrothals.

the prince thinks of the queen, the hightower girl who parades around the courts in green silks and upon swollen ankles, face downtrodden each time she foolishly thinks no one is looking. if ever he believed viserys held true affection for her, he’d wonder if she was who the king refers to, if otto hightower had truly been sent back to oldtown empty handed or with a new bride on his arm.

but any fool with a set of eyes can see the king loves his second wife like he loves the iron throne: through duty and obligation.

it is, instead, the late queen aemma who viserys must speak of.

and, while her maiden home, house arryn, where she’d spent her girlhood in the days before she’d been betrothed to her cousin, possesses no lord nor man awaiting a wife, a neighbouring house had just recently named a new wifeless lord.

a house which remembers, especially those who wrong it.

“no…”

i'm where you once where.

“you have to understand, daemon, that the actions you take leave me with consequences to bare. after what happened to lady rhea… after what you done,” his brother, so clearly exhausted with the secrecy and the scheming, folds like a house of cards against a gentle breeze, collapsing further into his seat and shaking his head. he does not notice as daemon moves his own queen along the board. “the vale were at an unease. threatened, was the word they used. so when lord royce staked his claim over his house’s seat, demanding i compensate runestone for the marriage agreement you destroyed and the lady you took from them, i had to give them a show of good faith. i had to reassure them of the longstanding trust between our houses.”

“so you gave her to them, sold her like some slave!”

“i made a political deal!” he attempts to defend himself in both words and on the board. in both, he fails. “one where lord rhoyce gains a bride, i avoid war and my daughter gets to finally take on the duties bestowed upon her at birth.”

“you’re a fucking fool, viserys. you would have been better delivering her to the triarchy. least they would make her death a more swift one. that rhoyce twat’ll have her head on a pike, and her tits and cunt will be hand delivered to you. they’ll slaughter her, as payment for their-” daemon swallows every ill coloured word and expression of his despise that comes to mind at the memory of his bronze bitch, giving no out for his brother to twist this conversation into a matter of his own wrongdoings. “late lady.”

with no more hesitation, the rogue prince moves his queen one last time and delights in watching the white king fall into check.

he knocks the piece over, quietly declaring checkmate.

“brother, please,” the king’s words are as fragile as his health, failing and mute against daemon’s scowling features, which refuse to play nice any longer. “do you think this is what i wanted, for my daughter to be used as a bargaining tool for peace? but there’s no going back, what’s done is done.”

“then undo what is done!”

“how can i when they threaten violence and-”

“you’re the king! who gives a shit what they threaten, they have a dozen men to your thousands. you have dragons! if the threat of fire worked on the men of the vale once, it’ll do so again. so regain your pride and write to that cunt royce. tell him to have your daughter cleaned up and sent back to where she belongs, to find fulfilment in his new lordhood and to drop this notion that he even deserves to gaze upon a targaryen princess, much less stick his shrivelled cock within her. i urge you to send this letter post-haste,” that familiar blade of his sits neatly by the entrance of the chamber, attracting the prince over till he clutches it in his grasp at last, quickly returning dark sister to her rightful spot by his side and discarding the blade he’d stolen from ser criston. he glances back at the king, now risen once more, and twists the doorknob. “and pray, dear brother. pray that it reaches gerold royce before i do.”

with the slam of the door, daemon plunders into the halls of the keep, footsteps heavy and echoing with each one he takes. jaw clenched and hands fisted, he paints the image of a man enraged, sick and fed-up with the games being played.

by the time he reaches his chambers, shoving his way past the sleeping knight at it’s doors, there’s bound to be a flurry of gossiping fools who speak of the prince and his defiling of the king’s commands, but he cares little as he straps himself into leathers and steel, hell-bent on reaching the dragonpit before day breaks and the sun paints the sky alight.

daemon is done sitting idly by, waiting for the king to see reason.

because while at the age of five, naive and easily influenced, daemon targaryen had looked up to his chess-genius of a brother, it was at age five and ten that he realised why his brother kept winning, why pawns and knights and rooks would conveniently move to the places he needed them to be.

he cheated.

[myfandomprompts]

Hey, I saw you did what Ewan's characters would be like with a girl daughter. And I admit that my curiosity was: What would each of Ewan's characters react to an unexpected pregnancy? Or announcement of a pregnancy

Or, opening new horizons, what would each person's relationship be like with their wife/girlfriend when they were pregnant? (if you want to use the reader for this part)

(I'm sorry if you're not accepting requests or something)

Hi! Thank you for the ask and it's truly okay and wonderful!

Headcanons: How would EwanVerse characters react to unexpected pregnancy?

Abraham

He hadn't even planned to stay with you, his only focus was on earning his place among the gypsies. Yes, he lied to himself about liking you, about being obsessed even, but at least he had managed to keep his emotions at bay. Until now. When he learns of your pregnancy, he gets mad, takes time for himself to think. Then he sees how miserable he had made you and his turmoil quickly turns into guilt. He can't stay away from you for long, let alone hurt you. You could be together after all, happy, and hell, that baby is his. What other beautiful manner to make his claim on you is there?

Aemond

War was raging, and he took you as his companion because he could, because as Prince Regent, no one will dare say a word against it. He had needs, impulses both of sinful nature and quiet affection, and you were meeting each of them perfectly. But when you don't bleed for two moons, he finally realises why he chose you, why he didn't 't care about being careful: he wanted you for himself, and having you round with his child would be the ultimate prize. You and the baby would be untouchable.

Billy Taylor

He feared it was going to happen. He had heard the stories so many times : people around with too much passion which caused unexpected things to happen ruined their lives, even reputations. It had scared him as much as elated him when he got to be with you, to touch you everywhere. And now, with the news of you pregnancy and amidst thinking of a way to tell his mother, he finds out that he would do it all again, thousand times over if life allowed it. He would be so very happy with your child.

Billy Washington

He wasn't supposed to have met with you again, or even to hook up. You, the ex he had a hard time forgetting about. But he guesses that once you harbour feelings for someone, it never really goes away. When you tell him, he is awestruck, not believing it, even asking you if it's his. It takes weeks for him to wrap his head around it, thinking what the hell he's going to do then he decides. Decides that he was delusional thinking he could live without you for a while, and that he won't let you go again. He never stopped loving you, and that baby will make everything right.

Ettore

You're just his neighbour, the only one who gets him, who sees him for what he is. He actually doesn't care about what people think of him, or what you think about him. Or maybe just a little. But he likes how you let him do things to you others wouldn't. When you tell him, he stays silent for a while, expressionless. "So?" he tells you, and when you slam the door in his face, he tries to convinced himself that he doesn't care. But in truth he can't stop thinking about it. About what it would feel like to have something as... precious with someone. How foreign it seems to him.

Genyen

He doesn't understand: you said you were fine with him being "just a friend", that you didn't want more, and it suited him fine. So why were you telling him that now? He can't do anything for you, he has nothing, even if he would like to. He would, truly, he finds himself thinking, provide for you if he could, for the baby. But it's the way you look at him with those shiny eyes and a hand on your belly that make him abandon any idea of disappearing on you. He'll stay, whatever you say he is to you.

Michael Gavey

He is euphoric. You're the girl of his dreams, and it seems surreal. He can give you everything you want, provide for you like you've never been cared for before, you don't need to be anxious about it all. He reassures you at once, already scheduling how you'll manage to graduate and have a beautiful baby at the same time, your baby. He won't ever let you go, and is already planning for the second one.

Osferth

You're the lady he can't believe he has, and when you announce that you're carrying his child, he can't help but feel guilty. He has promised himself never to sire a child, a bastard's bastard, and now he had brought shame on you. You would have been better without him, really, better with someone worthy of you. If only he had been more careful. What if you died in labour? What if the baby died? It's with those dark thoughts that he snaps out of it and decides that he will look after you until then. He will pray for you and the baby, be there for the both of you until life takes him.

Tom Bennett

He isn't even surprised, you're his girl after all. It's not like he had planned it, but it was bound to happen at some point. Deep down, Tom is a family man, always taking care of his folks, a fact he is finally brutally made aware of when you tell him the news and a warm feeling fills his chest. Now he just have to find a way to get you a ring. Maybe he'll have to steal it?

Will

It wasn't supposed to happen. You were supposed to get sick of him like everybody eventually did, and he was supposed to remain detached. But then here you are, saying you want to keep it and he allows himself to hope. Hope that maybe you truly love him, that maybe he'll finally have something of his own, something to share with you. Maybe he'll be able to let his guard down, like he always longed to. With this news, he felt like he wouldn't be hurt anymore.

I excluded Hoodie, Jack, Jason & Poacher.

[blue-sadie]

Save Him

Moon System x Ex Reader

Summary: he thought he could save you but leaving you was the worst thing he ever did

Warning: pet death, dog name = buddy

Yn/3rd person pov

I groaned out in pain as I dragged my battered body across my floor crawling over to my fur baby "buddy" I chocked as I finally reached him I felt my eyes glaze over with tears as I looked over his wounded body "buddy".

My hands trembled as they went to touch him "no no no" I cried and slowly cradled him into my body "please stay with me please" I kissed his snot "p-please don't leave me".

The tears fell from my cheeks onto his fur dampening it I screamed out hoping someone would come help me "someone please" the tears flowed down my cheeks like a river and my lips quivered.

I let my eyes wonder over the recked apartment searching for anything that could help me my eyes locked on my phone I threw at the intruders "come on" I cried and slowly clawed my way to it still holding buddy tightly in my arms.

"Fuck" I coughed seeing a small splatter of blood land on the floor infront of me as I reached out for my phone screaming out as it damaged my wounds more.

I opened the phone as fast as my bloodied finger tips let me going straight to contacts my heart froze I didn't have anyone to call and for the life of me I couldn't remember the emergency number 'why can't they all be 911'.

I scrolled through my contacts knowing if I couldn't get a hold of anyone soon it would be the end for me, my hand stopped as I came to his number he was the only one in this area that could help me.

We didn't end on good terms so would he help me anyways I sighed in pain and pressed call it rang for a few minutes before being sent into voice mail "fuck" I cried and hit call again "please please pick up" I pleaded.

It went to voice mail again "m-marc, please I-I don't have anyone else to call, they broke in and I'm wounded buddy is hurt please.... I need you" my voice wavered as I spoke the last words.

My thumb hesitantly pressed the hung up bottom and it was like the whole world fell into a maddening silence except for the sound of my short breathes.

I placed the phone down beside me and sat myself up against the flipped over couch keeping buddy close to my chest hugging him tightly because I was afraid he'll disappear.

The minutes that passed felt like ours it was funny how when your in pain time almost slowed down into a complete stop, with each passing minute breathing started becoming harder and my vision started to darken.

I looked towards the door praying for something to happen and that's when I heard it the thundering foots coming down the corridor and the familiar voice I once loved "yn" he sounded breathless as he banged on the door.

I watched as the door flung open to reveal a very freaked out marc who rushed towards me "s-save him" I choked trying to pass buddy to marc but I didn't have the strength "shh I got to help you" marc whispered and gently took him from my arms and layed him beside.

I tried pushing his hands away from me "save him, save him please" I sob and tried to get out of his arms as he picked me up to get back to buddy's side "he'll want me to take care of you yn" marc tried calming me down but I just pushed my head into his neck trying to convince him to go back but all my words were landing on deaf ears.

He gently layed me in the back of the car and rushed to the driver's seat and as soon as the door closed I could see him change "t-take me back jake" I whimpered my throat tightening as I started to cough "I'm sorry mi amor" was all he said before driving towards the hospital but all I remember was rounding the first corner before sleep took me.

Jakes pov

I paced back and forth in the waiting room as steven frantically tried to calm himself down while marc didn't speak at all "this is all our fault" I stared at Steven in the mirror that was to the side of me "we did this to her they did this to her because of us".

We just listened to him because we knew he was right "Mr Lockley" I snapped turning towards the lady calling out to me "any news" I asked and walked to her swiftly she shook her head "she is still in surgery but I think it's best you head home we have your number for any updates on your friend".

My heart stung as she called yn our friend, I looked towards the mirror again and saw marc watching me with puffy eyes "ok gracius" I murmured and slowly walked out the door to my car "why are we abandoning her" steven shouted but I just ignored him and got in.

The drive was almost silent, Steven's shouts had turned into mutters and whispers, I was on autopilot I've driven there so many times I could do it blind folded "what are we doing here jake" marc spoke up for the first time "the least we can do is clean up the mess we caused" i muttered I closed my eyes and let steven take control.

Steven pov

I climbed up the stairs and with step getting closer my heart felt more shattered, I paused outside the broken door taking a long breath before pushing it open, I looked over all her ruined belongings "what have we done" I whispered and with shakey legs went inside.

My eyes locked on buddy's unmoving body I slowly went to sit close to him but not touch him, a single tear ran down my face as I stared at his blood covered fur I covered my face as the tears got worse "we could have saved them" my breathes quickened as I cried.

"If we just came earlier" I sunk further into myself with each word I spoke flashes of all the good memories we had filled my mind "she didn't deserve this" I whispered into my hands, "steven" I ignored marc and didn't even bother to look up "Steven" this time it was jake.

"What" I whispered my breath catching as I looked up "buddy" I asked causing the small dog to bark I looked around the apartment to see if this was a joke but no one else was there "buddy" I cried out in joy and brought the dog into my arms he squirmed in my arms and licked my face barking in excitement.

"H-how" I frowned my brows in confusion I looked behind me once more to see khonsu there "she is what we protect" he spoke calmly "she is the light no one shell extinguish" "thank you khonsu" I murmured and gently put buddy down.

My sadness felt lifted "let's fix this place up shell we" I smiled petting buddy one last time before standing up I sighed out and looked around the room "let's get to work" I murmured, I just did the basics like picking up all the broken pieces of her gadgets and shards of glass and putting back all her furniture back and when I was done with that I just felt like to do extra.

I washed all of her dirty clothes that were all over her bathroom floor, changed her bed sheets, I did the dishes sorted out her fridge and pantry even decided to vacuum and mop all her floors in till the place was spotless "good days work" I smiled admiring all of my hard work but suddenly a yawn escaped my lips "a quick nap won't hurt" I murmured and slowly collapsed onto her comfy couch.

Marc's pov

I stared at the familiar ceiling for I don't know how long its been about 5 days since the break in, I was stuck in my head for most of it, my hands softly petted buddy as he layed on my stomach I thought of many different ways we could have prevented this from happening or how I could stop this from happening in the future "we should go see her" steven murmured but I just sighed and moved buddy carefully off of me "she doesn't want to see us steven" I said and rubbed my face.

I looked towards the door as I heard nearing footsteps to the door the person knocked lightly and spoke "ms yn, it's the adoption agency" I tilted my head I confusion as I got up and opened the door "oh your not ms yn" the woman murmured looking down at her clip board in confusion "I'm her... friend im house sitting for a while may I help you with something" I sighed crossing my arms she nodded eagerly and brought out a cage that was behind her.

"Um this is her cat she has the food and everything the last time I check" the lady rambled and pushed the cage into my hands I nodded lifted the cage up to look in, my eyes softened as I saw the kitten we talked about adopting a few months perier "does he have a name yet" i asked "yes let's see here" she dragged her finger down the page "uh khonsau chandu I can't say that" the lady huffed and showed me the paper I laughed "khonsu" I whispered.

The lady nodded "here please sign here and here" I gently placed the cage inside and signed the paper "ok have a good day" the lady walked off hurriedly I closed the door quietly and slowly opened the cage so I didn't frighten it "come on little guy" I smiled to see the little kitten shyly walk out it looked around its surroundings his gaze landing on buddy who just sat patiently staring at him with curiosity I smiled fondly at the two.

My phone started to vibrate in my pocket and I took it out and answered it "hello" I murmured "hi Mr lockley, this is the hospital phoning to let you know ms yn is being released now and is being taken home I'm sure it would be easier if your there as well" I confirmed with the caller that I was already here "that is all thank you" the caller said before hanging up I popped my phone back into my pocket and took a deep breath "everything is going to be ok".

Yn pov

I stared out the window, he didn't come visit once maybe he hates me more now and just saved me out of guilt "we're almost there" the driver smiled back at me through the review mirror I gave him a forced smile back, I didn't want to go back and deal with the whole mess and... buddy I bit my lip I have to stay strong, my body trembled as the car came to a stop I felt weak and just wanted to srivel up and disappear "here we go ms" the driver opened up the door for me and helped me out.

"Do you need me to walk you u-" "I got it from here thanks" my eyes snapped to Marc's as he stepped out from my building the driver looked at me for confirmation I nodded slowly "ok have a nice day ms" the driver said before getting back in his car and driving off, I just stared at Marc not knowing what to saw "hi" he said nervously, I let out a shakey breathe "I'm sorry for getting you involved" I murmured making him frown his eyes in confusion "you don't have to apologize for that yn it wasn't your fault" he reassured walking up to me.

He wrapped his arm around me carefully "now come on we have a surprise for you" he smiled and helped me into the building "I swear Marc if you stuffed my dog I will chop of your balls" I murmured half jokingly, for some reason it almost feels like we're back to normal he chuckled and shook his head and urged me first into my apartment I hesitated for a minute "it's ok" he whispered rubbing his hand comfortly up and down my back I let out a sigh and opened up the door my eyes instantly widening.

"H-how" it was like time has been rewinded "buddy" I squealed out and caught the dog as he leaped into my arms I stumbled a bit but marc caught me "and look over there" he murmured his hands still around me as he pointed I looked over to see the cat I adopted slowly walking towards us I placed buddy and watched in aw as the two played, i glanced at marc to see him already staring at me, I felt my heart full once again "thank you guys" I smiled and leaned up onto my tip toes and layed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He blushed and dark red his hands tighten around me keeping me close to him "I'm sorry yn" he whispered making me shake my head "you were only trying to protect me" I murmured "but that almost got you killed" I could see the tears welling up in his eyes I gently raised my hands to his face and caressed his cheeks "you did even though you ignored me the first time" I squinted my eyes playfully at him making him chuckle "you protect everyone every single day so you can protect me" I murmured and pecked his lips.

"I will always protect you, I thought I was by leaving you but it just shows me how much I need you and I'll never miss up like this again I promise you"

Tag.List

@sweetirilly @greekgods15 @neteyamyawne

[pctterswprld]

love, love, love

pairing: harry potter x muggleborn!fem!reader

request: hello! could you do a harry j potter x fem!reader oneshot (takes place in hbp) where they are dating for a few months so reader is still slightly uncomfortable around harry and Harry’s like all touchy touchy cuddles kisses yk (in my mind he’s very clingy but not annoying) but reader isn’t used to physical contact so one day when harry wants to cuddle with her she stiffens or flinches and harry is like super worried cause he doesn’t know why she reacted like that (if you want to add a bit of drama you can make that the reader has some type of trauma like abuse or sa but only if you’re comfortable) and she explains it to him and you can make the rest up just keep it extremely fluffy<3 sorry if you don’t understand something but English isn’t my first language so idk if I made any mistakes. thank you!! ~ anon.

word count: 1,416 words

warnings: ANGSTY FLUFF, implied sa/r*pe, mentions of drugs, implied verbal/physical abuse, i don't think there's any swear words?

author's note: please tell me if i've missed any warnings. i'm SO sorry that i've replied so late!! also, i don't describe the assault graphically. it's a brief explanation. but, this is a trigger warning anyway x

masterlist | navigation

EVER SINCE YOU started dating the famous Harry Potter, you didn’t think your beloved boyfriend would be so… Touchy. You did adore his random cuddles and little forehead kisses, but it was all so strange to you—was this regular in a normal relationship?

Your last boyfriend would get mad over the tiniest little thing, and you had learned how to deal with his anger issues, but in the end, you’d be the one serving the punishment. After finally leaving that relationship, it took time to build up your confidence again. Your friends had pushed you to see who was out and about in Hogsmeade (you hadn’t told them about your ex, and you weren’t going to), and when you finally agreed, that was the day you bumped into Harry.

A few months later, the relationship was thriving. You knew Harry was content since seeing a smile on his face was rare, and nowadays, he always had a grin crossing his lips. You felt over the moon, knowing you were the source of his happiness. However, as stated before, you had started feeling uncomfortable around your boyfriend.

Perhaps I’m the problem?

You didn’t know what in Merlin’s beard was going on with you. You should feel safe with Harry. Yet, instead, all you could think about was your ex and how he treated you. The situation was bizarre—you hadn’t seen him for months. So why were your thoughts always distorted with him?

“Hello, sweetheart.” A voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you looked to the entrance of Harry’s dorm, seeing him with History books (which probably belonged to Hermione). You noticed the Advanced Potion Making textbook, with annotations from the Half-Blood Prince, on top of the book pile, and you couldn’t help but mock your boyfriend.

“I’m starting to think you love that book more than me,” you teased, seeing Harry slowly approach you with a smirk.

“I could never, my love,” he retorted, sitting on the bed beside you and taking your wrist. He was going to kiss the knuckles of your hands, but before he could do that, you immediately ripped it out of his grip, shocking Harry and yourself.

When Harry took your hand, it was so abrupt. Any sane person would be flattered at your boyfriend’s notion, yet you had to feel exposed under his touch—not in a good way. Harry had always been so careful with you—like you were some fragile shard of glass. So when you reacted like this, it didn’t only confuse Harry. It also scared him.

Harry James Potter was many things. But he was not stupid. When the Sorting Hat suggested Harry join Slytherin during his first year, the boy refused profusely. Many years later, he did not regret his choice, though it did make him realise what he could be capable of if he adhered to the Hat’s decision. To think he could’ve turned out like Tom Riddle himself was an electrifying thought, and Harry couldn’t decide if he’d like the outcome.

So, seeing his beloved girlfriend grow fearful because of his fingertips made him question everything. It made him doubt if he would hurt you—it wasn’t as if Harry’s mind and You-Know-Who’s were disconnected yet.

“[Y/N]?” Harry began, his voice quiet as he stood from his bed, “I–I’m sorry, I didn’t realise—”

“No! No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Quickly, you corrected him, causing Harry’s body to relax a little. But, as soon as he stepped forward, you moved away from him on the bed.

“[Y/N]...” He repeated, noticing how your right hand pulled the fingers of your left hand. Your lips parted, trying to get the words out of your mouth.

Yet all you could do was stay silent. It was one of the things you were extremely good at.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Harry muttered, rooted to his position, “I just want you to know I’m not going anywhere if you want to talk.”

“I do want to talk,” you replied, looking up with hopeless eyes. “I’ve always wanted to talk to you about whatever is wrong with me—”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” he interrupted, slowly kneeling before the bed, gazing at you with his green eyes. “If you’re uncomfortable with me being physical, I’ll stop—”

“Please don’t,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip as you looked down, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want you to stop. Ever.” You felt the weight of Harry sitting on the bed as you met his eyes, wanting to apologise profusely for how you were acting. Yet, he wouldn’t allow it, him being the perfect boyfriend he was.

“Then I won’t,” he replied quietly, his lips curling. You knew you had to tell him at that point. You didn’t deserve his patience—he needed to know.

“I, um, I’m going to start talking about it, so if I break down or something, I apologise in advance,” you joked, looking down at your fingers. You didn’t want to see Harry’s eyes during the story.

“During the summer before fifth year, I hung out with a lot of Muggles on my street,” you began, “And it involved a bit of weed and other things. You already know that because I snuck some into the common room.” You smiled slightly at the memory, remembering Harry’s reaction to the weed when he smoked it. “But I didn’t tell you, Ron, and Hermione, that I sort of got into a relationship.” When you glanced at him briefly, you noticed his posture stiffen at the mention of another relationship. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything. “I used the Muggle phonebox outside of Hogsmeade to call him on weekends… That’s where I snuck off. And it was going great.”

Silence. The room was painfully silent.

“What did he do, [Y/N]?” Harry asked, his voice strangely calm.

“He was a drug dealer—I already knew that,” you scoffed, clearing your throat. “I was always against that sort of thing. At that point, he was already treating me unfairly in various ways. And, um, in August, we got into an argument…”

More silence.

“He had enough of me. H-he held me down and practically shut me up. That’s the only way I want to describe it,” you shuddered, turning away as you blinked back tears. “I told him to stop and—” A little sob escaped you as you covered your mouth, closing your eyes as tears streamed down your face. Silently, you cried as Harry listened.

Harry looked at your side profile, stricken as sadness filled his eyes. He didn’t know what to say at first. All Harry wanted to do was to hold you and never let you go. He needed to reassure you and affirm that he would never in a million years do such a thing. But how could you believe him after you had experienced that?

Deep down, you knew Harry wouldn’t do that to you—ever. Despite how badly his uncle and aunt treated him during Harry’s childhood, it made him more potent and loving. It shaped him into the man he was today. That was the quality you loved most about him.

He knew your boundaries. He knew you weren’t touchy from the beginning and respected that. You would allow Harry to cuddle you, to kiss your knuckles, and to hold your hands. You allowed little makeout sessions (Merlin knows how much you needed him).

Harry respected everything. He respected you. He loved you.

Harry moved closer to you on the bed, his fingers reaching to touch you, but he stopped immediately. He parted his lips, thinking of the right words to say.

“[Y/N],” he began, his voice slightly breaking. His throat became raw with emotion as he blinked rapidly, letting out a breath. “Can I hold you?”

You didn’t answer for a moment. You wiped away your tears, looking up. You saw the guilt in Harry’s eyes—you saw everything. He was begging you silently to let him be there for him.

So you nodded.

And instantly, you melted into his arms, your head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. More tears fell as you hid your face, but you felt warmer inside with Harry’s touch. He made you feel safe and protected, even without saying anything. He loved you so much.

You didn’t say it as much, but you loved him too.

“I love you,” you whispered, “I really do.”

“I love you too,” he replied, kissing your head softly as you closed your eyes. “Always.”

requested anonymously. like and reblog!