#at this rate my brother will find my tumblr and it will be over for me

[rushtoprove]

to deceive a prince

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader rating: general audiences word count: 6k+ summary: when aemond targaryen shows interest in courting your little sister, she employs your help to capture his attention through sharing letters and notes, all the while acting as if you are her. it was never meant to become so complicated. warnings: medieval catfishing? rom-com vibes. a little bit of fluff because my masterlist was getting to angsty so i needed something to lighten it up. catfishing bad in real life obviously. This has been flagged as mature by the tumblr gods but i promise it’s not.

“Please!” You wanted to curse your sister. Could she not see you were enjoying the peace of the gardens? That you were content simply reading beneath the oak tree that kept you hidden from the surrounding courtiers? Why did she need to pester you with such idiotic conversation? 

“Repeat it again?” You were in disbelief at what your younger sister had just requested of you, but her excitement rendered her oblivious to the discomfort. 

“Prince Aemond requested me as a dance partner at the ball last night and now I am in love! But I woke up to this letter beneath my door and I do not know how to reply! Or what some of the words mean. He was so sullen with me last night that I thought he must have hated me so. But he likes me!” She spun around in childish glee, ignoring your widened eyes and cruel laughter. 

“So, you want me to write back to him? As you? This morning did you not call him a tedious bore? You said you regretted wasting a dance on him, if I recall correctly?” 

“Yes, yes, I know! I was too devastated that he did not like me, so I had no choice but to mask my despair. I know you understand what I’m asking for, I do not know why this is the fourth time you want me to repeat it you obviously know what I’m talking about!” 

“Tell me one more time for good luck.” You could help but play with Mariyanna now, enjoying her desperation. You both had only just been sent to attend court three days ago, but it was no surprise to you that she would catch a suitor’s eye so quick. Even if it was the sullen prince with an ill temperament that many had warned you to take care around. 

“Stop! Please sister, please!?” 

“Many say he is a cruel man little Anna. Heartless even. Hell bent on revenge from years ago. And that he does not smile or laugh. I’m surprised he danced.” You sighed as you lowered your book and finally gave your attention to her. She was three years your junior, but you often treated her as a baby. She let her knees sink to the cold earth so that you both sat facing each other and Mariyanna clasped your hands together tightly. 

“His mother requested he dance so he could begin trying to find a suitable wife. Apparently, he won’t accept anything his family suggest so he is being given the freedom to choose. As long as she is suitable enough to join their family.” 

“He told you all this?” 

“No, his brother Aegon told me after he saw us dance for the second time.” 

“The drunk?” 

“Hush sister. But yes... that one. You would know all this if you attended!” She tried to glare at you in disappointment, but her smile was uncontainable. She was truly getting swept up in a fantasy that was created less than a day ago. You rolled your eyes at her comment before lifting your book back up. 

“You are a fool little sister.” 

“Imagine it though! Me! Marrying a prince and becoming a princess! I think I would fit well into that duty.” Her eyes glazed over as she imagined her possible future, but once she returned to reality, and quickly returned to begging. You groaned as your book was covered by the letter Prince Aemond had slid beneath her door, turning your nose up at the courting language. It was infected with imagery of nature and copious amounts of sentences comparing sweet Mariyanna to different flowers. You moaned in discomfort. 

“PLEASE!?” She cried. You did not want to. You loathed the idea. But you were always ready to do whatever your sister required, so with a sigh you wrote a letter in return. She complained it was not filled with enough declarations and promises of love and duty, but you simply waved her away. 

“You do not want to seem desperate for him. He will think you are only after his title.” And like always, your sister followed whatever you said. After that she sat wide-eyed as you quickly wrote down little sentences that quietly asked to be answered. You made small jokes about their previous night as you listened to your sister retell every moment in detail. The moment it was finished she bounced up quickly and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.  

“I love you!” You had no time to reply before she spun on heel and raced up the grass hill, desperate to find a maid to deliver the letter. 

“That’s the only time Mariyanna!” You called out after her, but she was already gone. 

+++ 

It was only a day later that your little sister had come running back with a letter grasped tightly in her grip. This time she was interrupting your alone time in the library. 

“He replied!” She squealed before shoving you along the stone bench to sit beside you. You thanked the gods no one ever seemed to come to this part of the castle, as they much preferred the newly renovated library across the other side of the red keep. She gave no time for you to reply before it was shoved into your face. 

Mariyanna, 

I must apologize as there has been a mistake. I did not send any letter to you after our dances. I believe my mother has taken it upon myself to incite conversation between us. However, I quite enjoyed your reply, and I would like to talk more this evening. Please do me the pleasure of accompany me on a walk along the grounds. 

Prince Aemond 

“My letter has captured him! Can you believe it!? A prince!” You almost laughed at her. Almost.  

“Why are you here and not racing down to find him?” 

“I do not know what to talk about I need some tips. I know he studies philosophy and he read many books according to Lady Ariyanna. I need you to give me some talking points!” She begged. 

“You want talking points on books you’ve never read? Little Anna I am sure you must simply be yourself and he will fall in love with you. Do not mould yourself into something you are not. He would be a fool not to be enticed instantly for your charm and beauty.” You brushed a strand of hair from her face and smiled at the delight that had consumed her entire being. 

“I know! And I won’t! I just need some extra wit. I need your brains. You are the most intelligent person I know. Just this once. Afterwards I shall use my own letters and interests.” You sat staring at one another for a second before you simply sighed. 

“Fine.” 

You had one hour to drill small jests and facts about your favourite books. You discussed quickly about Ten Thousand Ships and the journey Nymeria faced in her battle to be Queen. You kept it short and simply, but hoped it was enough for her to act out her silly little infatuation with the young prince. For your sister’s sake.   She could not sit still from the nerves of what was to come, and you swore there was no way she would recall everything. It felt she was hardly listening, but your sister was treating the whole thing quite seriously.  

When she left you, you moved to gaze out from the window and looked down to the gardens below. You had the perfect view of your nervous sister. She was cautious as she moved towards the looming figure of the prince, his arms crossed behind his back and his posture standing tall. He was looking upon the oak tree you had sat yesterday but turned as he realised your sister had crept forth. They bowed, and you imagined they greeted each other, before beginning the boring small talk that comes with meeting someone new. But when you saw your sister begin laughing, and his arm move to offer itself to her, you knew your tips had paid off.  

Moving away with a sigh, you returned to your book. 

That was all you would do for their courtship now. 

+++ 

You don’t know how your sister did it, but letter upon letter you had exchanged with Prince Aemond over the last few months. It quickly became easier than breathing. His interests were the same as yours, and his humour yours too. The books he suggested kept you enticed to the very last page, and he wrote that your recommendations happened to do the very same. You found him charming, however not overbearing, and you quickly realised you had dug yourself the deepest grave. You had never loved anyone.  

Until now. 

“Mention how I enjoyed his thoughts on Lies of the Ancients! Oh, and that I have come to agree the Starks made up all their stories to look really powerful!” You looked at your sister, disturbed by her ridiculous take.  

“I will not write that.” You muttered. You don’t remember how she coerced you in to writing this letter, yet here you were, scribbling stupid quips and more enticing conversation starter. 

“It was what Aemond told me. It will show I was listening!” 

“Mary, he is playing with you. No one regards Archmaester Fomas’s writing as anything more than an old man raving his madness to the masses. If he brought it up, I believe... well, I believe he was making a joke.” You grimaced at your sister, trying hard not to imagine her nodding along to Aemond Targaryen’s dry humour. 

“Oh.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, well write that I thought it was a funny jest.” She leaned her weight on to your back to get a full view of the stupid letter. You groaned beneath her with a huff but decided that you would mention that you knew he was jesting with his thoughts. You did not want your sister to come off as a halfwit. Or perhaps it was that you did not want him to think you a halfwit. 

“There. Mariyanna, I truly mean it when I say this is the last time, I shall do this. It does not feel right to mislead Prince Aemond.” You pushed the letter away in defeat for her to sign, which she happily scribbled on. You heart ached from the entire ordeal. At night you found yourself craving the idea of Aemond finding out the truth, but you also resented the idea of your sister being left broken. She brought the letter to her lips and placed a small kiss to the corner of it, leaving her lip paint to stain the very edge.  

“I know. I just don’t want to lose his attention. He is so tall and strong and princely. If it is not me who mothers his children, I do not know how I shall survive.” Her giggling was infectious, and you thought you hoped her happiness would never fade. So much so, you knew you were willing to give up your own for your sweet little sister.  

“Just... be careful little Anna. I worry you have fallen too deep into something that could implode in any moment.” You hoped she would heed your warning, but the youthfulness glee did not fade from her eyes, leaving you in doubt that she had even heard.   Her snickering suddenly came to a stop when the sound of the libraries grand door clicked open. You cursed inwardly, how many people were to invade the only peaceful part of the whole keep? She eyed you uncertainly and you quickly shrugged back in panicked confusion. She shrugged back at you even harder making you roll your eyes and point for her to see who had entered.  

“Why me?” She mouthed. You rolled your eyes and shoved her off her chair, leaving her no choice to silently toe towards the edge of the bookcase. Leaned forward in anticipation, you almost cried out in fright as she swung around in panic.  

“What!?” You hissed, bouncing to your feet in fear of whatever danger had entered. She quickly began shooing you away with her hands and began tidying the desk you had left sprawled with your readings. 

“Go!” She mouthed silently at you again. You angrily threw your hands up in frustration at her choice not to answer, but the sound of man clearing his throat halted your every movement. 

“My ears may deceive me, but I thought I heard your laughter, Lady Mariyanna.” Your jaw opened and closed in shock before you desperately began waving to your sister. 

“Not here!” You quietly begged her. You did not want to see. You did not need the image of him staring upon your sister and whispering in her ear. You wanted to preserve what you had with him in your stupid letters.  

“What do I do!? Why do I say I was in here for?” She grasped your shoulder and pulled you into her, shaking you for an answer. Stumbling in disbelief, you shook your head. You were both rattled by this turn of events, but you still could think unlike your sister. 

“Fucking reading you idiot!” You hissed, making her almost slap her forehead. 

“Right? Fuck what book?” She haphazardly began spinning on her spot, and you both desperately tried to find a book. 

“Let me come and find you, my prince!” She cried out in fake delight before staring at you franticly. You both shrugged violently at each other and began glaring in alarm.  

“You must leave. I will not be able to hide here long.” The sound of footsteps grew closer, leaving your sister no choice but to shove you away. 

“No need. Who I am to draw you away from your readings?” The voice called out. You stilled for a second over the calmness of his voice. 

“I’ll just read what you were reading.” She was alarmed by how close he was and quickly gave up the effort of finding a book. 

“No!” You cried out quietly as you stumbled behind the bookcase. She ignored your cry and left you to crouch down out of sight, biting your knuckle in shame for what was about to happen. You were secluded enough behind the shelves that you were hidden from the great Aemond Targaryen, but you found you had a perfect view of the meeting. You watched in trepidation as he slowly stepped to the table that your sister had managed to gracefully sit at, after she had calmed herself from the madness that had taken over you both. 

“My lady.” He bowed before her, leaving her nothing more than a blushing mess. If you had not have been in the clutches of utter panic at your precarious position, you would have rolled your eyes at her folly. 

“Prince Aemond. I did not expect you!” She was flustered by his towering figure leaning over her, and quickly moved to stand, but he gently lay a hand on her shoulder to keep her sitting comfortably before him. Breathing in deeply, he let his eye rake over the shelves making you quickly duck away from his gaze. It was a surprise your beating heart did not give you away for you swore every person in the kingdom could hear it. 

“No need for such formalities. It is I who has intruded upon your time; therefore, it is I who should be paying you the respect you deserve.” His tone did not match the sentiment as you had never heard such an unwavering, and proper speech come from any man in the court. No one could deny the authority that seeped from his very being, nor the power he held in his mere stance. Something quivered inside you at the sight of him, but it was in the most delicious way possible.  

“I do not consider it an intrusion my prince. I am always grateful for your company.” Mariyanna squeaked out, her face the deepest shade of pink you had ever seen. You wondered how she had managed to converse with him this far? 

“Please, you know I wish for you to call me Aemond.” The corner of his lip seemed to move upwards, and you wondered if that was his idea of a smile. Gazing upon his face, you found yourself struck by just how handsome the prince was. You had heard him to be described as frightening and dangerous, but no one had mentioned how sharp his jaw was. Your sister had informed you that his face simple, but pretty enough, and you felt the need to wring out her neck right then and there. How could she be so blind? 

“Yes, my prince.” Anna sighed out dreamily and this time not even the panic of the situation could stop you from rolling your eyes. 

“Are you enjoying your book?” Aemond enquired, reaching down and bringing the cover to his face. Your sister was too busy in her own realm of glee to notice the way his remaining eye widened in shock. You inwardly groaned. 

“Oh yes! I am learning so much! I really think it one of the greatest books ever written.” Your sister tried to feign interest, placing her chin upon her hand and smiling up at Aemond. You had groaned even louder in your head. It was a shock when Aemond let out a breathless chuckle. 

“Well... you continue to surprise me. Perhaps you shall have to tell me what you learn by the end." You could not blame Aemond for thinking your sister was being flirtatious because the book you had been reading was A Caution for Young Girls, a book banned from most libraries in the seven kingdoms for its erotica and sinfulness. It was infamous, so when it was passed back to your sister to look upon, even she knew what the novel was about. 

“Oh god no! Not me!” She cried out in shock before throwing it across the library franticly. She quickly began spewing out apologies for presenting such an ungodly object before Aemond, while he simply looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. 

“You do not need to worry. I shall not disclose it to anyone.” He tried to jest but it simply made her more frantic. 

“I’m sorry you see? It was my sister! She must always make sure she partakes in the most unproper things to displease my father. see? It was my sister! She must always make sure she partakes in the most unproper things to displease my father.” You did not miss the way she hissed, knowing fully well that she intended you to hear her anger. You flinched into yourself, mortified that the prince would now think you a sexual deviant before you were to even become acquainted. You had only wanted to know what all the fuss was about.  

“You have never mentioned a sister?” Perhaps Aemond was trying to defuse your sister’s panic, but the statement tugged at your heart hard. How had your sister not thought to mention you after all these meetings over these past few months. 

“Yes... well... she doesn’t leave her room much, you see? She, well everyone thinks she is quite simple.” The tug was so harsh you felt your entire heart shatter inside your ribcage. As if she heard, Mariyanna looked apologetically towards where you were hidden. Aemond was gazing solemnly out the window so you simply took the opportunity to make sure she could see the way your lifter your middle finger in her direction. 

“Cunt.” You mumbled, before quickly ducking once more as Aemond turned.  

“I understand. My brother is the simplest person in the entire seven kingdoms. It seems we have much in common.” This time he finally did smile down at your sister, who in return, linked her arms tightly in his. 

“Well at least we have each other to keep company.” She gazed up at Aemond from beneath her eyelashes, and you didn’t miss the way his eye softened.  

“I came here for a reason, actually.” He muttered; his gaze unbroken from hers. He frowned as she quickly moved her gaze to anywhere but his scarred skin that was hidden beneath his eye patch but continued anyways. “I wished to invite you to dinner with my siblings tonight. I would like to introduce you to my sister Heleana and younger brother Daeron. Unfortunately, Aegon will also be attending but perhaps you can invite your brainless sister to entertain him.” His description left you heart squeezed, drained of every drop of happiness and leaving it to bleed through his tight grasp. 

“She will be there. I’ll make sure of it. Now come, let us wonder the gardens! It is a beautiful day outside! Much too beautiful to be cooped up in here. It’s so dusty.” Your sister danced away merrily, happy to have succeeded in diverting away from a disastrous interaction. You swore you heard Aemond follow, so with a huff you stood straight and began stretching out your cramped limbs. When you gazed at the door, however, you saw him lingering, playing with the note you had written for him only moments ago. You watched the soft chuckle as he read it, and the way his demeanour seemed to lighten.  

“Continuing to surprise me.” He huffed, before slowly bringing the edge of it to his lips. The act was intimate, much to intimate for you to be gazing on. Stumbling back, you tried to remove yourself, but your skirt knocked down a book from a top its stack, and Aemond swung around in haste. You saw him begin stalking forward to find the source of the noise, making you cover your mouth and bite down hard on your palm.  

“Who goes there?” He whispered, prying his head around the bookcase. If Mariyanna was to renter, she would see Aemond standing above you, the only thing keeping you hidden was the books and cloths hanging over the shelf. You heard him inhale deeply, and for a moment you felt like prey being hunted by an animal. But she never came, and instead she called. 

“My Prince!” Her laughter floated about the room, making Aemond instantly straighten with a huff.  

“Hmmm.” He whispered, before turning and stalking off in her direction. You did not realised your skirt had been in plain view. 

+ 

Shamefully, you agreed to attend the meal with no argument. You would like to sit before Aemond once, even if it was to watch his courtship of your sister. Absolutely shameful. 

“I am happy you joined us, Mariyanna! My brother has talked a lot about you. A lot. Like all the time! Yesterday, I was showing him some art and he said it reminded him of this poem you had suggested he read. Even though he doesn’t like poetry. And, when you said you read that stupid book about ancient people lying, he was so amazed he didn’t shut up about it for a whole week! AND...”  

“Daeron, please, for the love of the gods shut up.” Helaena quipped up, placing a protective hand on Aemond’s sleeve. Daeron giggled mischievously, his childish humour leaving only him amused. The glare Aemond sent his way left him clutching hard at the table trying not to let himself howl out in delight. You were seated beside him, with Aegon boredly picking his teeth in the reflection of his soup spoon on you other side. Helaena was perched across from him but was seated beside her obviously favourite brother Aemond. Mariyanna was seated on his other side. This meant Aemond and yourself were seated directly across from one another, and due to Helaena forcing the dinner to be an intimate event, your legs were almost touching his under the small table. The heat that radiated off him, and the accidently touches of his long legs had you pressing your thighs together as tightly as possible.  

You do not know what possessed you to read that stupid book. 

“Thank you for being kind enough to invite me.” Your sister ducked her head in appreciation, and you quietly sighed as no one paid any mind to you. It was a shock, however, when you raised your gaze and saw Aemond staring upon you, as if analysing your very soul. Without a second thought, you stared at him in the exact same way.  

“Yes, my brother says you love all those stupid books. I’ve been trying to convince my mother to renovate that ancient library in the south corner of the keep and turn it into a theatre for us to watch plays. The commonfolk have some fucking hilarious skits.” Aegon laughed ignorantly, and you watched your sister laugh too. 

“Oh no!” Your words came before your thoughts, and everyone quickly turned to you. You quickly looked at your sister for some support only to see her looking at you in frustration. “My sister loves that library.” You coughed out, and Mariyanna quickly nodded in agreement.  

“It’s filthy. The new one is much nicer.” Aegon pointed out. Mariyanna kept nodding, getting confused with who she should comply with, but you shook your head. 

“It’s too busy. And it censors the books too much.” You muttered falling into your seat to try and hide yourself from the attention. Aemond chuckled at your words, before beginning to tap his fingers a top the table. 

“Yes. I hear you enjoy the restricted section of the library.” He smirked at you, thinking he knew a secret that you didn’t. Led to believe that he was alone in the library with your sister. But you were there, and you understood his words perfectly, leaving you reddened in shame. 

“Oh really? How obscene do you enjoy your novels?” Aegon was suddenly interested as he snaked his arm around your chair and leaned in with a grin. 

“Ugh.” You grunted out in disgust without thinking, leaving Mariyanna gasping in shock. 

“Forgive my sister she...” She was drowned out by the laughter the three siblings shared at the treatment of their brother. 

“Move away from her Aegon.” Aemond sighed. Aegon sighed in mock defeat, before turning his attention to swirling his wine. Looking away, you tried to turn your attention to your sister, but was caught by Aemond’s gaze once more. 

“You do not come to any of my mother’s dances, am I right?” Shifting nervously, you quickly shook your head. 

“I find my sister is much better at those types of things. I like to live through her little stories.” He hummed at your reply, before drawing his goblet to his lips. 

“And what do you do in your spare time? Write?” Your sister and you stared panicked at one another, before you quickly shook your head. Helaena stared confused at the three of your, but Aemond simply looked at you. Nowhere else. His eye was on you. 

“Not me.” The squeak of your voice mimicked that of your sister’s fluster under his gaze. Mariyanna was biting down hard on her lip, willing herself not to cry. She thought it obvious you had been caught. 

“I just noticed the ink stains on your fingers. It was a simple assumption.” You quickly hid your fingers in the sleeve of your gown and tried to think up an excuse. But everything thought seemed to evade you.  

“Not me.” You repeated quietly. The room fell silent for a moment, everyone staring between yourself and Aemond, but then you found yourself saved by the servants. The doors swung open as they swarmed in, carrying different trays of food and began arranging your feast on the small table. You quickly looked at your sister who widened her eyes in question. You simply widened your eyes back. You also did not understand what was happening.  

“I have been so hungry this whole time.” Daeron moaned as he began piling his plate with potato's. Everyone moved to reach for a dish, so you quickly reached for the spoon that was within the soup dish. It also happened to be the dish Aemond reached for leaving you both grasping onto the tips of each other's fingers instead of the spoon. You quickly pulled back and cradled your hand with widened eyes. The touch had sent a sensation down your entire being, even all the way to your toes, leaving you with no choice but to curl them up inside your slippers.  

“Apologies.” You choked out, looking down shamefully. You cursed yourself in embarrassment, declaring to yourself that he really will think you simple and brainless at the end of this dinner. He simply hummed at your regret, before lifting your bowl towards him. Without a word, he poured you a serving before returning it to you. No words were spoken as you nodded in appreciation.  

+++  

The dinner had gone smoothly after that. Perhaps smoothly wasn’t the right word. You had to cradle Mariyanna in your arms as she had spent the whole time after sobbing. Aemond had not paid her much attention to her, and she thought it obvious he had figured out that it was you who had captured him all those months ago. 

“Shhh you do not know that to be true.” 

“I do! I saw the way he was looking at you.” You had patted down her hair in comfort as she shook in your arms. You could not celebrate at the idea that Aemond might have figured it out because you heart ached for your sister. 

“Even if he has figured out that it was I that was writing the letters, it does not mean he did not fall for you after all those hours he spent courting you.” You tried to reassure her, but her broken cries only got louder. 

“I could tell he did not like our talks. I am not dumb. I knew when I laughed at the wrong times and disagreed and agreed on his thoughts mistakenly. I knew he only liked me because of your letters. I just thought with more time he might grow fond of me.” You shushed her crushed sobs and pressed a kiss atop her head. 

“If he did not grow fond of your little Anna, then he is a fool.” You whispered. She lay in your arms a little longer, before letting out a long exhale. She quickly sniffed, before sitting herself up and wiping her eyes. 

“It is okay.” She whispered, pinching her cheeks and quickly blinking away her tears. You were shocked by her sudden change of demeanour, but she ignored you and moved to her window. With a frown you slowly stood, scared any sudden movement would break her once more. 

“Mary...” 

“Veron Greyjoy has asked me to wed him. I think I shall accept it.” She gazed out, as if she had not mentioned something so immense.  

“What?” You rushed to her side, but she simply sighed at you like you were an idiot. Clasping your hands with hers, she finally looked at you. 

“My courtship with Aemond was flawed. I had to make sure I had other options. Of course, marrying a prince of Westeros was the ideal option but I was not dumb enough to think there was a certain likeliness of me wedding him. Unlike you, I do not mind if I marry for security. So, I entertained some men on the side. I have had a few other proposals of course, but I enjoy Veron’s company the most.” You could not speak from the shock of her news, but Mary simply kissed your fingers. 

“What of Aemond?” 

“He was kind, of course. And I would have been happy to wed him because I believe he shall make a wonderful husband. But I do not love him.” Disbelief. It is all that you felt. But you should not have been surprised. Your baby sister was born to thrive amongst the court, and you were a fool for thinking her dim-witted. Perhaps she was a greater schemer than Otto Hightower? 

“You’re fucking insane.” You let out a breathless laugh, as you stumbled to leave her room. 

“At first I was committed to him.” She called. You turned back to look at her smirking face. “But I started looking elsewhere when I saw you sign one of those letters with your own name.” Staring at her with a gaping mouth, you could not believe what was happening. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You muttered defensively. It only made her chuckle. 

“You have my permission.” 

“For what!?”  

“You may let him court you. I know you love him. And who am I to get in the way of that? I do not remember a time you showed interest in any man.” She smiled lovingly at your blushing form while you stood spluttering out sentences of denial. 

“He is a prince.” You finally whispered in defeat. You could never hide anything from her. 

“And you shall be a fine princess.” 

+++ 

You could not sleep after your talk with your sister. You had spent your night twisting and turning under the moonlight that streamed in from your window. So, with a huff, you found yourself marching to the library in a robe. Carrying a candle and allowing your hair to flow freely as your bare feet slapped upon the stone hallways, you were sure to have looked like a madwoman, but you were to frazzled to care. It was only when you made it into your hideaway within the library, that you finally allowed yourself to relax. You began lighting the candles upon the walls so that you had enough light to read and allowed yourself to reach for the book Ten Thousand Ships. During your exchanges with Aemond, you had spent many letters discussing Nymeria and her reign over Dorne. It was your favourite piece of literature, and it was his too. 

You couldn’t read. You tried. Gods you tired. But the longer you stared at a page, the more distorted the words became. Instead, your mind was only on Aemond.  

“You deceived me.” The sudden voice that came from between the shelves made you scream in shock. The book dropped as you quickly pushed yourself back in fear. But it only took a moment to be reminded whose voice that was. You watched as Aemond stepped forth from the shadows, still in his leather pants from dinner, but now just a sheer white undershirt covering his torso. The candlelight illuminated his face as he moved forward, and you breath hitched at the sight. He no longer had his eyepatch strapped up, but instead he left his missing eye bare for you to see. You expected a sunken hole where his missing eye once was, but the light caught on the sapphire, and you watched it glisten. You were awed, and when he noticed you did not look away from his scarring, he could not help but look upon you fondly. Swallowing your anxiousness, you simply bowed your head. 

“I am sorry Aemond. Truly.” You cursed yourself for being so informal and allowing yourself to call him by his name, and when you watched him clench then unclench his fists, you thought you had already ruined everything. 

“I could have you arrested for such fraudulence.” He muttered beneath his breath, making your neck bow even further. You felt tears spring to the corners of your eyes while you tried to gain composer. 

“It is true. And perhaps I deserve it. I did not intend for it to go this far.” Your breath was shaky as you exhaled your words and allowed yourself to slowly lift your gaze. You expected to see Aemond glaring, full of hatred at the revelation that he had been played a fool, but he was simply looking down at you with an amused smile. 

“I jest. I shall not have you arrested.” He apologised with a smirk, and this time your heart began to race for different reasons. No longer were you in fear of imprisonment, for now all you care for was the way Aemond Targaryen was standing above you in hardly any clothes, while you were sitting on the ground like a peasant with no shoes and untidy hair. You could not look away from the way his hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, and it was at that moment that you realise how unkept it was. It looked as if he had run his fingers through it a million times and in different directions. 

“I could find no sleep.” You whispered. He exhaled a breath and let out a soft hum. 

“Neither could I. My mind is... preoccupied.” You nodded in understanding and felt your heart soar from your chest. You were no fool. You know what was happening. 

“Will you sit with me?” You suggested as you began clearing away the books you had scattered across the floor. Aemond did not need to think as he gracefully dropped to his knees and allowed himself to fall to your side. Trying to make yourselves comfortable, he let his hand stretch you behind you, and you were quick to fall into his side. 

“Are you still reading A Caution for Young Girls?” You felt yourself choke at his jest, before allowing yourself to laugh.  

“No. I finished it.” You smirked while pulling your book back into your lap. “Hmmm. A shame.” He whispered, leaving a tingling sensation running down your spine. 

“I found it... enlightening.” You smirked as you ran your thumb across your lower lip. You felt him push his nose in your hair and you both couldn’t help but smile. You let out something between a moan and a laugh, before holding up Ten Thousand Ships. 

“I believe you are familiar?” You teased. He let his teeth draw in his bottom lip quickly before chuckling at your question. 

“I know something of it.” You went to turn the next page but stopped as you felt him move your wild hair to the side. 

“Let us start again.” He whispered. Reaching down to your hand, he pulled up your fingers and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“I am Aemond Targaryen, my lady. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” 

[ramblers-lets-get-ramblin]

Tick- Frankie Morales x wife!reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Summary: Your husband hasn't come home after a night of drinking yet again. You wait up for him and contemplate the years and events leading up to this moment.

Rating: M for Mature

Word Count: 1166

Warnings: reader is able-bodied and has a child, though no mention of giving birth to it. I am choosing not to tag everything so as to avoid spoilers. There are heavy themes here: drug and alcohol abuse, implied smuts, implied PTSD and some of the things that go along with that.

Author's Note: I lost someone very close to me today and this is how I worked through some of my feelings. Thank you for reading. Shout-out to my wife @wannab-urs for beta reading and encouraging me to write the saddest shit known to Tumblr.

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

You stare at the clock that's perched high on the kitchen wall above the table. Your anger grows with every passing second. You are so tired of this shit. This man. Day after day, year after year, you put up with his bullshit. He spent the better part of your marriage gone. Off fighting in a war he didn’t even believe in. For a country that didn’t give a fuck about him when he came back. Except it wasn’t even him that came back. Not the him that you sent off, not the him you prayed would come home to you, alive and in one piece. 

He won’t even speak of the things that happened over there. What he saw, what he did. “It’s classified.” is all you could ever manage to get out of him. Hell, you got more information from the nightmares that plagued him damn near every night than you ever did from your husband. He was out of the war, but it wasn’t out of him. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

After the war came the drinking. It started out innocently enough, as these things do. Getting a few drinks with the guys on some Friday nights. That quickly turned to every Friday, then every Friday and Saturday. Backyard barbecues had less food and more booze. The nightmares stopped for the most part. But what followed was worse. 

He stopped spending time with the guys around the same time he stopped coming home every night. He’d met some new friends down at the bar. People who didn’t know him the way the guys did. They didn’t care about him that way, like a brother. Like someone who’s life they had saved, someone who had saved theirs. He was just “Fun Time Frankie” to them. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

No matter how many times it happened, you still panicked when you woke up in the night and he wasn’t there. Most of the time you’d just find him passed out on the couch, fully dressed, boots dirtying up the cushions. Sometimes he couldn’t get the key into the lock and he’d just sit in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. 

You thought that the nights he didn’t come home were the worst. You’d wake up to pee and reach out for him, grabbing nothing but a handful of cold sheets. Or you’d leave for work and he still wouldn’t be home, but he’d text you after he’d woken up, always ready with an excuse. With a lie. Eventually he stopped lying about being with Will or Benny. You stopped asking. 

The worst was the day you woke up at five in the morning to get ready for work. You looked all around the house for him before grabbing your phone to make sure he hadn’t called you from jail. When you passed by the living room window you saw an unfamiliar car parked on the street at the end of the driveway. You squinted through the barely parted blinds and saw your husband in the passenger seat. His head was leaning back against the headrest and his eyes were closed. There was nobody in the driver’s seat. You were gonna have to go wake him up and figure out whose fucking car that was. They were blocking yours in. Just as you were about to do that you saw a head pop up from your husband's lap. The woman wiped her mouth with her thumb and forefinger, giggling. Frankie adjusted himself and kissed the woman goodbye. You ran up the stairs as he stumbled up the drive, hopped into the shower and prayed that he’d be asleep by the time you got out. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

It wasn’t long after that incident that he lost his job. “Random piss test,” he said. But it wasn’t random. You couldn’t in good conscience let him keep flying people around in that helicopter. Putting their lives at risk. The drinking got easy to ignore, but once you found that little baggie full of white powder, you couldn’t make any excuses anymore. Not even to yourself.

Losing his job was a wakeup call for him. He went to rehab and got clean. It pains you to think about how happy you were during those sixty days. It was peaceful for the first time in years. You didn’t have to worry if he was in jail. Sure, you woke up alone every night. But at least you knew he was safe and not lying in a ditch somewhere. 

When he came home from treatment, it finally felt like you had him back. That man that you sent off to war all those years ago. He was on track to get his license reinstated. He was home every night. You guys laughed again. You started having sex again. Your lives were so close to being back to normal. He was a great dad. The kind of dad you both always wished you had. 

Then Santiago came back. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

You have no idea what happened in that jungle. Five men went in, but only four came out. As terrible as you felt for Tom’s family, you were glad your man was one of the ones that made it. He won’t talk about what happened but it must have been bad. The nightmares came back. With the nightmares the drinking and the drugs made a reappearance. 

When he went out tonight he promised he wouldn’t stay out all night.

“Just a few beers. I’m gonna be with Benny and Will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, baby.” he gave you a kiss and pulled his hat on and walked out the door. 

When you woke up for the baby’s next feeding and he still wasn’t home, that’s when it hit you. This is over. You are done. You sit at the table and watch the clock. The minutes drag into hours and soon enough the sun begins to peek through the blinds. Finally, the sound of a car door slamming shut drags you from your memories of better times, and worse ones. You prepare yourself to tell your husband that you want a divorce. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

He drove home so obviously he has his keys. Why is he knocking?

You stalk across the kitchen and through the living room. He is woefully unprepared for the bitching he is about to be on the receiving end of. You unlock the door and pull it open with more force than necessary. You open your mouth, hell bent on chewing him out, and stop in your tracks. 

A man is in your doorway. Khaki hat that matches his uniform turning in his hands. 

“Can I help you?”

“Is this the residence of Francisco Morales?”

“Yes. He’s my husband, Frankie.” 

“Ma’am, may I come in?”

“What trouble has my husband gotten himself into now?” you ask, exhausted and exasperated. 

“You might want to have a seat for this, Mrs Morales.” 

Tick. Tick. Ti-

[mousydentist]

KPTS fics under 10k that changed my brain chemistry

PART 1: KimChay

Inspired by @the-cookie-of-doom making a fic rec list, cause i was like hey! i like fics too! so here's a bunch of <10k word fics that altered the course of my life. i'm gonna do a few parts, so this first one is just kimchay. i tried to tag all the authors on tumblr but there was a couple i was unsure of so please lmk if they have an account for me to tag! (or if i fucked up any of the links cause you know tumblr was fighting me) <3 without further ado, and in no particular order:

Your last lie by saturnscoded @saturnscode (8182 words)

Not Rated. Creator chose not to use archive warnings. Summary:

In which Porchay's boyfriend cheats on him with Kimhan and he decides to take revenge. Or Things get out of control and Chay doesn't know how to stop.

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu- this fic oh my god i love this fic. GO READ THIS FIC RIGHT NOW. yknow when people are like "would you rather have a fic with amazing plot or amazing writing" GUESS WHAT BESTIE THIS ONES BOTH. GO READ IT.

Ringing Endorsements by bisexualbard @bisexualbard-writes (2556 words)

Rated G. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

Kim is not impulsive. Kim is a planner, a plotter, a researcher, and generally considers all angles of an action before he makes a move. Chay has always been the exception to his rules though, which is why he’s not even surprised at himself when he walks out of the jewelry shop with an engagement ring barely a month after they’ve reconciled. The only problem is, he doesn't stop at just one.

i have shed so many tears to this fic. it hits the sappy romantic in me right in the fkn feels GOD it just hurts so good ITS NOT EVEN SAD it's just so good it makes me cry 😭😭😭

podfic available by AirgiPodSLV (AirgiodSLV) @airgiodslv!!! welcome to tumblr fdjsjd

heaven is a place (here, on your floor) by booksnchocolate @booksnchocolate (7020 words)

Rated E. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

They're going to have sex. Eventually. They're going to take their clothes off and Chay is going to explore all of Kim's glorious, glorious body with his hands and mouth and – whew, he's going to need a cold shower. There's just one problem. It’s not a big deal, at first.

oh boy. what do i even say about this fic. i think about this fic a lot. like a LOT. it's so incredibly moving and emotional and ugh. just. perfect. no notes. i've cried at this and if i read it again right now i would cry again

Kim's Magic Pussy by imdeadlily @imdeadlily (8096 words)

Rated E. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

Kim wakes up and finds his dick is gone. MIA. Vanished. Displaced. Chay has no issues with this.

i'm a die-hard imdeadlily fan. i highly highly recommend everything they've written and this fic, THIS FIC. ITS SOOOO. just. go read it. you have to experience it yourself.

rainbow hanging over your head by IsleofSolitude @emberfaye (4174 words)

Rated T. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

Chay is crushing hard on Kim. That's the only reason it takes him awhile to realize kim's brothers are being weird.

this fic is the warm and fuzzy feeling you get when it's winter and you take a big blanket that like 10 times your size and you cuddle with your dog. that's this fic. i love this fic more than at least 90% of all things.

Pillow Talk by Atlas (xx_atlas_xx) @xxatlasxx (1427 words)

Rated E. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

Kim finds some time to himself while on tour as Wik, but gets interrupted by a phone call.

FOLLOWING THE TRANS KIM THEME WITH THIS MASTERPIECE. ive screamed all up in atlas' dms ab this fic and there is a REASON it was my most re-read fic of last year. sweet little trans!kim smut that i adore

drape myself with floral light by fern_tdvuh @fern-tdvuh (2080 words)

Rated T. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

"Kim feels like a sunflower – he can't resist basking in Chay's light." How Kim and Chay recognize their love for each other via tattoos, and then share it with the world.

this fiiiIIIIIIIIIIIC GODDDDDDDD. i swoon. i SWOOOOOON over this fic. i simply do not even have the words. this fic hurts my bones, hurts down to my soul. so fucking good. 10/10

Do You Believe in Magic? by disast3rtransp0rt @disast3rtransp0rt (3407 words)

Rated T. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

Deadpool continues to breeze past the entire situation, as he usually does when he’s in ‘trouble’. In fact, ‘Pool starts flirting even earlier into their banter than usual. “Did you hear the part where we’re soulmates, Spidey?” “I actively ignored that bit, actually,” Chay outright lies. Like a lying liar whose spandex is on fire. One hand is still on his hip, and he uses the other to gesture between the two of them. “What if we’re platonic soulmates?” “That’s not how the spell works,” Sabrina the Pain in Chay’s Ass speaks up. “We were hoping to summon Death, but–”

THIS FIC EEEEEEEE oh my god this was just so cute my heart simply could not take it. i read this after like, just, such an awful terrible day and it made me smile and god i love it. very special place in my heart for this fic.

i see rain but maybe they're all tears for you by OdeToFics @thestrangeillusion (5459 words)

Rated E. Creator chose not to use archive warnings. Summary:

Chay slumps back down onto the couch, picking up his controller where he'd abandoned it when there was a knock at his door. "Take your clothes off and then come here," he commands with a steady voice without even looking in Kim's direction. When his words are only greeted with silence from where Kim is still standing next to the door he'd just locked, Chay turns around to look at him and raises a challenging eyebrow at him. "W-what?" Kim stutters out and Chay feels a rush of satisfaction in making the always cool and collected Kim Theerapanyakun finally lose his resolve for once. "You said 'anything', did you not?" Chay asks coldly. ~~ Or: Chay wants Kim to be as vulnerable with him as he had always made himself for Kim. He wants to have some control over Kim. He realises too late that he's in way over his head.

OOF this fic hurts so good. post canon kim having emotions, goodness gracious it HITS DIFFERENT. SAD ANGST PORN MY BELOVED. SMANGST IF YOU WILL

The Art of Persuasion by Zoiseaunoir (9226 words)

Rated E. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

Porchay really wants to top. Kim needs a little persuasion. ... or does he?

!!!!!! some top tier kimchay communication porn. i read this fic like seven times in the week i first discovered it AND YOU SHOULD TOO

Take Your Time (I Promise Not to Run) by WildelyDawn @wildelydawn (3637 words)

Rated E. Rape/Non-con. Summary:

“Somnophilia,” Kim reads out loud. “A sexual interest in engaging in sexual activity with a sleeping person.” Chay hadn’t said no to any of his desires so far. But this is different. This is taking without asking. It’s wrong. (Or: Kim discovers somnophilia and struggles to keep his desires to himself. Chay's there to guide him through it.)

fOOkin hell this fic, this whole series actually, actually actually everything by dawn but i digress. just like, jaw-dropping plot, beautifully written, and smutty on top of it?? just 10/10 fic overall, absolutely outstanding

podfic available by Princess_Moonlight!!!

paying the price by IsleofSolitude @emberfaye (4133 words, ongoing)

Rated M. Creator chose not to use archive warnings. Summary:

Secure with the knowledge that Kim won’t leave him again, Chay unblocked Kim and pressed the call button. (Alternatively, Chay fucks around and finds out. All magic comes with a price.)

:*) bro. this fic took my emotions and put them in a blender. the first chapter was jaw dropping and had me hooked, and the second chapter picked my jaw off the ground and stapled it back on with no novocain. my heart huuuuurts thinking about this fic /pos

I'd Rather Feel Pain Than Nothing At All by Sweet_William @sweet-william-writes (3108 words)

Rated E. Graphic Violence, Rape/Non-con. Summary:

Chay starts having graphic dreams where Kim attacks him. When he is faced with a real-life volatile Kim killing men in Hum Bar to protect him, he realises they were never nightmares. They were wet dreams. And now he's going to make those dreams a reality, whether Kim wants it or not.

yOWza bonowza this fic is a doozy /pos. author's note says "Because we need more awful kimchay fics <3" and sir you delivered!!!!!! spectacular and gasp-worthy, i couldn't stop thinking about it for like four days after reading it

Technicality by TheCookieOfDoom @the-cookie-of-doom (9136 words, ongoing)

Rated E. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

Kim is an OnlyFans model. Despite taking (literal) monster dildos up his ass on the regular, he is still, technically, a virgin.

now this one is just technically (ha) less than 10k, its 9k and ongoing but goddamnit im counting it because loooOORDD. this has almost all of my favorite tropes wrapped up in 9k of excellent writing and GOD it makes me feral like actually fr feral

K's Puppy Boy by Maenecoon @maenecoon (9944 words, ongoing)

Rated E. No Archive Warnings. Summary:

To be in K’s position, to garner the attention of people who'd pay to see him do more and go further into the depths of depravity. To feel wanted and needed and pleasured all while earning a bit of pocket money. It sounds like a dream. And so Chay's here now, attempting a stream of his own. ー Or, Chay stumbles upon the prettiest camboy. Things go downhill from there.

OK THIS ONES ALSO JUST BARELY 10K BUT LISTEN. holy F LISTEN TO ME. go read this right now. this shit has me blushing and kicking my feet and chewing my arm off and SCREAMING OUT LOUD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT god GOD ITS SO. ok yeah go read it.

[softlysuga]

satan's sweetheart [ch. 1]

You’re a demon. One day, you’re summoned into a living room, and an exhausted woman quickly rambles about needing to get to work and being unable to find a sitter before flying out the door. Now, you stand in your summoning circle, a toddler staring wide eyed at you.

pairing: taehyung x female demon!reader genre: fluff, crack, smut (but in the other chapters) rating: pg-13 wc: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of the underworld, death (like the Reaper), pagan activities? i mean the woman literally summons a demon LOL

note: prompt is by @writing-prompt-s! i thought it was actually fcking hilarious and half the time i was writing i was like wtf is this LOL also thank you to @jtrbluv for beta reading! my d1 tumblr moot ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ♡.°₊ˎˊ˗

-> let me know if you want me to make a taglist for this fic or any other fics :)

There’s a tugging sensation at your stomach, and your lips curl into a smile. 

A summoning. Finally. 

Relaxing, you let the sorcery of the summoning whisk you away from your dwelling and hear the familiar pop in your ears as you enter the human realm. Dust setting, you open your eyes, hoping to feast your eyes on your next meal. 

“Who dares to summon—” you boom in your demonic form, clouds of smoke entering the room and a glow of evil cloaking your figure. Of course, it’s all theatrics.  

But…

“I’m so sorry, I tried calling for a babysitter but no one was free,” a frazzled-looking woman interrupts, “and I know, you’re probably like, well, can’t you ask family—”

The woman scrambles to find her keys and belongings, slowly lugging her bag to a door. You stand a few feet away in the middle of a summoning star adorned with a few candles and eerie-looking symbols. There’s an offering of fruits and leftover Halloween candy, along with an edition of the Grand Grimoire. 

“—and I did! I asked Taehyung to come over, that brat, always shirking from his responsibilities, but he said he’s in the middle of a basketball game? Can you believe him? I had asked him to a month ago, and he still managed to forget! Ugh, younger brothers. Anyway, it’s not like I can ask my parents because they’re dead.” 

Surprised, you cut the theatrics and unwind into your natural form. “I mean, Old Reaper spares no one,” you chuckle, shooing away the clouds and lightning. “He’s kind of a nasty fellow, that one. Always so grumpy.”  

The woman freezes, one hand in the midst of putting on a shoe. She turns around, stunned. “You changed.” 

You frown. “Did you expect me to stay in that form forever? It’s actually quite energy-draining— I much prefer this one.” You look down at yourself, confirming that you’re in the correct form. “I mean, I can turn myself into a cat if you would like. Or an elephant, if you’re really feeling up for it. I would be quite loud, though.” 

You’re not quite sure what humans do or do not know. Usually, summonings are quick and short, usually ending with you feasting on the souls of the summoners or the immediate banishing. But this isn’t the usual summoning; there are no teenage kids screaming for their mothers, nor men wrapped in capes who think they’ve found their calling. 

A clatter draws your attention away from the woman and you find a toddler tucked away in a high chair. The child couldn’t have been more than two years old, teething on a strawberry with the remnants of its breakfast laid out in front of her. An oatmeal-covered spoon is on the ground next to the chair. 

Stepping out from the pentagram, you wave your hand and the spoon flies off the ground and lands on the high chair. The child gurgles in delight, grabbing the spoon and throwing it off yet again. 

“This child seems to lack intelligence,” you observe, spinning back to the woman. “Why would it throw the spoon back down? I thought you humans liked using them.” 

The woman unfreezes with a start and continues putting on her shoes. “W-well, you know how toddlers are, always doing something you don’t want them to.” She adjusts herself before putting a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be back in a few hours, it will be a very quick grocery trip. I just need some…peace.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to look after your offspring?” 

“Just for a bit. I’ll be back in a jiffy, alright?” She opens the door and steps out. “There’s food in the fridge for her, diapers are in the drawer under her crib. Just keep her unharmed and alive.” 

And just like that, she’s gone and you’re left with a human baby with a distaste for spoons. You look at the child again in curiosity. Tight, chestnut curls are tied up in two pigtails and her chubby cheeks are stained with strawberry juice. You gently pull at a curl, watching it bounce back into place after you release. 

The child notices this and places your finger into her mouth, gently gnawing on it while cautiously measuring your response. 

“Silly child,” you reprimand gently, pulling your finger back. “That’s not food; if you eat my hand, you’ll get dysentery.”

You snap your fingers and conjure a little black binky for her to gnaw on instead. “Here.” You stuff the binky into the child’s mouth and after a bit of confusion, the toddler starts chewing on it contentedly. 

A smirk crosses your face. “How curious. I wonder what else I could do to you…” 

You sense the presence of another soul before you hear the jingling of keys. They’re inserted into the door, and it opens with a swing. 

“Addie? I’m here— sorry about the wait, the game ran a little long…”

You observe the new figure, a man, clumsily take off his shoes and shove them in the shoe rack. He stumbles towards the living room, dropping a bag off by the couch. 

“Addie?” 

“Are you looking for the child?” you murmur. The man freezes. 

“She’s in her jail,” you continue, floating down from your perch on the ceiling. “I suppose you would call it a crib. The child seemed to grow tired of our games, so I put her to sleep. Temporarily of course— I’m not the reaper.” 

Softly landing on the carpet, you stare at the man’s shocked features, seemingly frozen in time. You tilt your head in confusion. “Well, don’t be too worried. She’ll wake up whenever she feels the need to. I just…coerced her into a nap. It’s not like I can do much else.” 

You extend a hand. “You must be Taehyung. The tired woman mentioned you.” 

Taehyung glanced down at your hand and slowly reached for it. Shaking it, he gulps, “Wh-what? Who?” 

He points from your perch on the ceiling to you. “What?” 

“Oh, that,” you wave towards your previous spot. “I’m just more comfortable that way. It’s usually how I lounge in Erebus but I thought it would make you too uncomfortable to see me like that.”

“Erebus?” He whispers. “Is that like…the underworld?” 

You shrug. “Yes and no. It’s more like another dimension, really,” you say, inspecting his face. “You seem to be sweating. I forgot how temperamental humans are.” 

You chuckle. “It's a little hot in here for you, isn’t it? I tend to run a little warm and the heat might be radiating into the room.”

A bead of sweat drips off Taehyung’s temples and he swipes at it, unfreezing himself. “Oh, I-I guess? I mean, now that you mention it, it’s a little warm.” He shakily looks you up and down. “What are you even? A demon? Oh my God there’s a fucking demon in Adeline’s house…” 

“Ah, so Lily is the child,” you muse. “So Addie— or Adeline, I suppose— must be the mother.” Swooping past Taehyung, you ignore his noises of disbelief. Landing on the kitchen counter, you pour him a glass of water. “She’s in her jail, like I said.”

You beckon a chair to follow you, instructing it to sweep Taehyung into it. He’s pale as a sheet, scrambling onto the chair as he lands in front of you. You hand him the water. “Sip.” 

He obeys, gulping down the water. After he finishes, you take the glass back while he looks at you warily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re not from this world, are you?” 

“No, I’m not. Adeline summoned me to become her babysitter around an hour ago, and she simply left me with her offspring,” you snort. “You humans always do the funniest things.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“I mean, hey, good for her for summoning a blank demon— class III nonetheless! Very baby-safe, I can assure you.” 

Taehyung’s brows furrow. “Addie…summoned you?” 

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You chuckle. “At first I was as confused as you are right now, but she quite literally said ‘care for my baby, demon! I will be back’ and left,” you air-quote with your hands. “Said something about being unable to find a babysitter, and I was curious enough about the little one to stay for a while.” 

“So you’re not…stuck here?” 

“Well, no,” you roll your eyes. “I can leave whenever I want. Just how you can leave and enter a door,” you gesture towards the hall, “I can leave and enter this dimension. The summoning just thrusts me here against my will. I can go back whenever I want.” 

“Oh.” 

There’s a bit of a silence as Taehyung collects his thoughts. You listen to the buzz of the refrigerator and the quiet ‘tick-tocks’ of the grandfather clock down the hall; you’re surprised how soothing the monotonous noises are. Maybe the humans are onto something. 

Glancing back at Taehyung, he seemed to relax a little. He fiddles with his hoodie string, gnawing at the end. “Wait so, you won’t hurt us? You said something about being baby-safe.” 

You chuckle. “Yes, I’m very baby-safe. I’m a blank, class III demon. Blank— as in I haven’t developed into a specialty yet— and class III— meaning I’m equipped with the bare minimum of demonic powers.” You shrug. “So yeah, I can do things like make you fly or summon existing objects, but not much else. I’m more of a spirit, really. At least for now.” 

“Huh.” 

Suddenly, you sense a shift in the air and you glance over to the baby monitor on the fridge. Taehyung follows your gaze and jumps up. “Oh, Lily’s awake!” 

He looks over at you, albeit a little warily, and slowly starts walking towards Lily’s room. “Don’t move,” he instructs, pointing a finger at you. “Or else.” 

You put your hands up. “Alright,” you giggle. “How scary!”

Ironic. 

Taehyung glares at you and disappears into the hall. He comes back a few minutes later carrying little Lily in his arm, one hand wiping the drool off of her face. Her eyes light up when she sees you. 

“Puff!” she squeals, reaching for you with two hands. Taehyung holds her back, confused. She’s squirming in his arms, trying to peel away. She whines in annoyance.

You smile. “Yes, child. Puff.” 

A wave of your hand conjures little soot sprites out of the air, the dust bunnies blinking in surprise. The jingle of their movements delight Lily, making her clap as they float down towards her. They scatter around her as she makes attempts to snatch them with her chubby hands. Taehyung keeps her just shy of doing so, though, and it frustrates her. 

“What are they?” he asks, concerned. “Are they your pets or something?”

“They’re soot sprites,” you say softly, waving your hand again and they disappear. Perhaps you should’ve warned Taehyung. “They’re quite harmless, really. Usually residing in abandoned country homes, they’re magical creatures made of soot. They don’t do much but work and exist.” 

Lily wails in dismay as the creatures disappear. You smile apologetically. “I was using them to entertain the child before you got here,” you explain, “which is how she’s so familiar with them. It got her a little dirty, but she seemed to like them enough.” 

“Huh. Cool, I guess.” 

You look over at Taehyung, a little surprised at his reaction. It seems like he’s opening up to some of your antics, which makes you smile a little. 

“Do you mind if I conjure them again?” you ask. “For…Lily.” 

You’re trying to get used to calling the child by her name. 

He nods and places the child on the couch, where you bring the little sprites back. Lily’s eyes widen and she instinctively reaches for them as they float around, surprised once again. 

You and Taehyung both watch her in a comfortable silence, but you can still hear Taehyung’s wheels turning. 

“You know, you can just ask,” you start. 

“Hm?” 

You shrug. “I dunno. It’s not like you see a demon every day, let alone have a demon babysit your niece.” 

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m just trying to process it a little, but I’m just glad you aren’t sent here to hurt us.” 

“It’s not like I could if I wanted to, anyway,” you add. “It’s kind of a development-slash-hierarchy thing. Kind of like your version of puberty? Long story.” 

Taehyung’s lips quirk up. “What do you mean?” 

Before you can answer, though, you hear a jingling of keys and the woman from before swings the door open, shuffling her bags in. She looks around, eyes landing on you and Taehyung. 

“Tae!” she exclaims while shutting the door. She turns back to face you two, walking towards the living room. “And…the demon…-ess? Demoness?” 

“Demon is fine,” you affirm. 

She smiles warily and turns her attention to Taehyung and slaps him on the shoulder. 

“Ow,” he winces, “what was that for?” 

“That,” she starts, swatting away the sprites and picking up her child, “is for neglecting your babysitting duties which ultimately led me to summon a demon.” 

She glances at you. “No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

“But you summoned her yourself!” he splutters in defense. “Freedom of choice and everything—” 

“Don’t even start,” she interrupts, glaring daggers. 

You whistle. “This woman is scarier than me, Taehyung. I would watch out if I were you.” You glance at Adeline. “No offense.” 

She winces. “None taken.” 

“Well, it looks like my services here aren’t needed anymore,” you clap your hands and the soot sprites disappear. Lily frowns. “Not that it was something I expected, but it was kind of fun.” 

Adeline turns to you and smiles softly. “Thank you for everything— I know it was a bit of an inconvenience, but I’m very glad that it turned out how it did. Please come back anytime you want.” 

You laugh. “I’m not sure if I’ll take you up on your offer— I have a lot of training to do back in Erebus— but thank you anyway. Your offspring, Lily, was quite enjoyable.” 

You wave to little Lily— who waves back— and you start walking towards the door for a more “natural” approach to leaving. 

“Wait, hold on.”

You turn around and Taehyung catches up to you. “Are you never coming back?” 

You shrug. “Unless there’s another summoning or if I have a personal reason to. Summonings are tricky, though, it’s a gamble on which demon you’ll get. It runs on an internal lottery system for all demons, so I wouldn’t bet on your chances.” 

He deflates. “Ah.” 

“Maybe you’ll see me, maybe you won’t.” You smile. “It was nice knowing you, though. I’ve learned more about humans today than I ever had at the academy.” 

Taehyung furrows his brows in confusion, but before he has a chance to say anything, you’ve snapped your fingers and disappeared. 

Like before, you let the winds whisk you back to Erebus and you enter with a pop, feet landing on the soft carpet of your room. Glancing at the window, you notice the blood moon starting to rise and your roommate stirs in her sleep. 

Interesting, you think, shaking your head as your horns grow back. You touch them to make sure they’ve come out properly and your wings also make an appearance, the dainty gossamer erupting from your back as you stretch. 

A sigh of relief leaves you as you settle into your own bed, thinking back at what happened. You’ll surely have to go to the Dean tomorrow to explain your absence, but it shouldn’t be something you’re punished for. These summonings are growing more common so quite a few students have been missing this week—  but it’s not something the administration is worried about…yet. 

You roll over to your side, remembering the look on the woman’s face. She was calm for a human— too calm maybe— when she summoned you. Grumbling in confusion, you think. Maybe they’re getting too comfortable with contacting the demonic dimension. 

But you fondly remember how Taehyung’s reaction was much more standard, and you chuckle recalling his sheer fright at the concept of Erebus.

He almost reminded you of a puppy. 

“How cute,” you murmur. 

Yawning, you make a mental note to go to the mortal realm more often. It could do you some good. 

Eyes heavy, you close them and everything goes black.  

[emilykaldwen]

Lost | Aegon x OC | Modern!AU | NSFW

Rating: Explicit (oral sex, f receiving. fingering, girl on top, mild breeding kink, mild dirty talk, lots of feelings and thunderstorms) Pairing: Aegon x Abrogail Strong

Summary: Lightning streaks across the sky and he pauses, knees bumping at the edge of the bed. It illuminates her features, and her eyes are large in her thin face, cheeks streaked with tears. There’s an aching in his chest and he immediately crawls across the covers into her waiting arms, draws her into him and drags his mouth against her cheeks. She whimpers at the touch, trembles against him in time with the thunder and he tastes salt on his mouth.

Notes: Unbeta'd! @vampire-exgirlfriend had sent me a prompt for some southern gothic!Abrogon which has been a little AU world I've been playing in. This is a repost, since I can't find my original post.

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She doesn’t move at the sound of the window opening. Abby stays in her four poster bed, rolled over on her left side tucked under the covers and the lace curtains flutter in the breeze and the lazy spin of the ceiling fan.

“Are you awake?” Aegon asks, toeing off his boots from his perch on her window sill. The air smells of ozone, the storm rolling in and there’s a flash of light and he silently counts. One… two… three… the rumble of thunder answers and he rolls his shoulders with it, reaching back over his head to pull off his worn t-shirt.

She shifts beneath the pale pink blanket, her hair tied back in a ponytail but gives no other answer. He scratches his fingers across his bare chest, the fine blonde hair gathered there catching on his calloused fingers and reaches down to shuck his jeans off like he always does. The clink of the belt buckle echoes in the room and Abby shifts again, turns in her bed to face him.

Lightning streaks across the sky and he pauses, knees bumping at the edge of the bed. It illuminates her features, and her eyes are large in her thin face, cheeks streaked with tears. There’s an aching in his chest and he immediately crawls across the covers into her waiting arms, draws her into him and drags his mouth against her cheeks. She whimpers at the touch, trembles against him in time with the thunder and he tastes salt on his mouth. Comforting his girlfriend buck ass naked and half hard since he left his house twenty minutes ago thinking about her.

“What’s wrong?” he swipes his thumb along the apple of her cheeks, cups the softness of it. Softness that’s slowly been going away over the past few months since her dad got sick. The heart attack and the stroke, the way her shoulders bowed beneath the stress.

“Harwin.”

“What about him?” His brother in law. His girlfriend’s older brother, and Aegon wonders if they’ve achieved peak southern stereotype by having him be his brother in law on both sides. Eventually. When they get to that point where he can be the man Abby needs him to be. One who isn’t jobless and still living with his mom and flunked out of Tulane.

“He wants to move dad in with him and Nyra. Says I should come too. Finish out senior year in the city.”

The answer is immediate. “I’ll figure out how to get back into Tulane and you can live with me.”

“Aegon.”

“Or if that doesn’t work, I’ll move you into the big house.”

“Your mom wouldn’t allow it.”

Aegon makes a face. “She doesn’t have to know.”

That gets a wet laugh from her and it’s all he wants to hear. She says nothing except presses her wet face against his neck. His hand drops to her cute ass beneath the hem of his Hozier t-shirt he got at the concert they went to last year, runs his fingers under the elastic edges of her panties. “Let me make you feel better,” he whispers against her knotted curls. When was the last time she brushed her hair? He moves his fingers and strokes his knuckles along the seam of her, separated by the purple cotton with the little white hearts dotted all over it.

The thunder rumbles nearly over them, little time between the flashes of lightning, casting shadows across the room

Her hips shift against his touch, the puff of damp breath against his throat and he tugs the cotton aside, strokes two fingers along where she’s warm, and he promises her in whispers that she’s safe. His fingers come away damp and his thumb joins in to press against her clit, draws that achy whimper and her teeth catch against his neck, cock hard between them. The whine Abby makes is muffled with the rest of her sounds when he presses both fingers in and he groans into her hair. “Little rabbit, you’re so fucking tight.” Tiny and tight, whimpering and wriggling against two thick fingers curling into her. If he was kinder, he would have made her come first and let her loosen up.

Aegon is a good boyfriend, but he’s not always a kind one.

Abby doesn’t mind. Her body grips him tight that he can barely move with how tense and needy she is against him. He presses kisses against her brow and pulls her closer. “Take it easy… I’ve got you. Let go, Abs.” He feels her nod against his shoulder, spit gathering from her rubbing her mouth against his skin and he finds a rhythm, grinds the heel of his palm into her clit while he works his fingers against her, insistent on making her see stars.

Harwin and Rhaenyra are asleep downstairs, in town to take care of things with her father’s heart attack and Larys’... mysterious disappearance with a warrant out for his arrest. Wylla had found the dump site and it was the brotherly bonding activity between him, Aemond, and Daeron when the youngest was home for the weekend from his fancy boarding school.

Uncle Daemon had even showed up. A full family event as Aegon watched the dozens of blinking eyes swim closer. Listened to the whining gasp of his girlfriend’s monster of an older brother who thought he could make Abby an amusement, invade her and rob her of her sense of safety all for the fact that the foot fetish OnlyFans weren’t enough for him.

The gators had thrashed with glee in the water, the shadows thrown long from the headlights of the SUV, Larys hogtied on the pool inflatable, shirtless and bleeding from the dozen cuts sliced into him.

Blood in the water, nothing left behind.

“I want to stay,” Abby whimpers and her sounds, those precious sounds turn high pitched and draw him from the memory. Aegon licks into her mouth to swallow them down, keeping them from escaping the precious space of her bed. Her body bows and arcs into his touch. They’ve gone through the room from one corner to the other. The cameras are gone. It’s just them and the storm.

Aegon was too distracted to put a towel down, too in a hurry to comfort his crying girl and when she comes with a frantic jerk of her hips and a rush of wet like a broken levee, he makes sure the blankets are gathered beneath her cute ass so they can keep going.

Rain starts to ping against the windows, the howl of the wind audible through the cracks of the old frames and Abby lays against her pillows, dreamy eyed and swollen mouth watching him while she pants in the fall of her first orgasm he’s given her in weeks.

He’s a good boyfriend. His hand splays across the soft swell of her stomach to push his shirt up and over her pert tits, stroking against the pebbled peaks and hums in contemplation. “Be quiet,” he orders her and she nods frantically, reaching for his hand to noisily suck on the fingers he had inside of her. He raises his eyebrows at her and she hums. It’s good to see her cheeky and each suck shoots straight down his spine to his cock.

The head of it drags against her, bumps up against her clit and he’d tease her endlessly until she came twice, three times. He’s too impatient though. It’s been too long and with the way she swallows his fingers down, splays her legs wide and hooks them over his hips, it’s been too long for her too.

Abby gets stuck in her head with her pretty brows furrowed, and her nose scrunched up in thought. She needs him to take care of her, she needs him, needs him needs him, him only him.

He draws his fingers from her warm mouth with a wet pop and he kisses the whine from her mouth, rolls them over so he’s on his back and his girl is straddled across his lap.

Only him, only him and her and them in this bed. No one to ever hurt her again, no one to scare her. He reaches down to rub his cock against her and they both moan and shudder. Abby’s hips wiggle trying to catch him in and she pouts, opens her mouth to whine and complain and he shoves his fingers past her pretty lips once more.

“No wonder you were crying,” he teases her and he slides against her. Once. Twice. Third time's the charm, catches where he needs and he presses in with a groan and a roll of his hips. She works her way down and her free hand presses on his chest to keep her balance. “Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you, taking me like this.”

She’s so beautiful with her hair tangled around her flushed face, eyes large and wet that he thinks he can drown in them if he stares at her long enough. Aegon can’t decide what to take in more: the sweet expressions on her face while she sinks down, or the way she splits around him, the way he disappears into her. He drops his hand from her hip to work her clit, slow swipes his thumb along the aching bud. Abby wriggles and whimpers and then… then….

The groans they make in unison have his toes curling in delight when she fully takes him and he arches into her and thinks, ‘we could just run away’.

Aegon doesn’t know where they’d run to, and doesn’t particularly care. All that matters to him is this. He surges up and takes her face in his hands, needs to breathe in her cries and her sounds and every good thing he’s doing to her, that she’s feeling because they’re together and she’s with him. Aegon licks into her mouth like he owns her, like she belongs to him and part of him would say it was true, uncaring of the eye roll that it’d get.

Abby doesn’t push him away. No, she claws her hands against his shoulders, his biceps, dives in to pull at his hair in all the feral little ways he adores, and he thinks, ‘If she is mine, then I am hers’. He relishes at the marks she scores in her desperation, and the painful way she tugs at his hair so he’ll feel it for hours afterwards.

Her hands find his shoulders and she breaks their kiss, her pouty mouth swollen, and red as jolly ranchers. “More,” she says with a crack in her delicate voice and pushes him down. Abby’s pupils are blown so wide the river blue of them is a thin rim, and as lightening flashes through her windows, she looks possessed. Feral, even.

“Take it all,” he promises her with a guilelessness he hasn’t held since he was a boy. She is everything sacred left in this world to him. She is his goddess, his beginning and his end. Abby finds her rhythm in the dance of her hips and he relishes in how his rabbit uses him for her pleasure, uses him for her escape into the world they’ve made together. She draws the t-shirt over her glistening skin and Aegon sighs, happily, to watch her perky tits bounce and the way her flush blooms across her skin.

He reaches up to gather the bead of sweat coursing down her sternum and groans when she slaps his hand away.

“I didn’t s-say you couldn’t touch,” she tries to command him and he drags his nails over her belly, watches her quiver and whimper as he skims lower where she’s so sensitive.

“I wanna touch.” He preens at her and thrusts up, drunk with how tight she is around him. This is as close as he can get to crawling inside of her into the place between her ribs where he wants to live forever.

The second smack to his hand is loud in the room and he growls at her, the lilac of his eyes a burning blaze. Her head rolls to her shoulder, her hand coming up to tweak and twist the pebbled nipple and his mouth waters. “Give me.”

“S-say please.” She tugs at her breasts again and he feels her clench around him and sees stars for a moment. His breath catches and he licks his lips, mouth too wet and he hasn’t even gone down on her.

Too impatient for his own good.

He reaches up and wraps his thick fingers around her wrist, digits still damp from her hungry mouth, and tugs her down so he can ensnare her. She struggles, a wriggling rabbit and he bands his other arm around her back so she’s pressed to his chest, her knotted hair curtaining around them.

Aegon bites at her candy mouth and breathes into her all the love he holds for her, as broken and as messy as it is. She’s unable to move and his hips snap into her with a relentless focus. Her bratty behavior is adorable and it ignites the need he has for her to levels that he can’t do in a house where her brother can and will shoot him on sight for this.

What better way to die than to be covered in her, and she with him?

She cries into his mouth when she reaches that pretty point where her body shakes and trembles and writhes, where her muscles clamp him down like she’s gonna pull him inside to stay. He falls with her a moment after and it’s better than any hit he’s taken, any bottom of the bottle of Jack he’s had. There’s nothing better than Abby for the high he wants. There’s nothing better than the tingly sparkle feel where everything, in that moment, feels like goddamn fireworks and cotton candy and her shaky voice whispering, “I love you I love you,” into his mouth.

Nothing better than breathing back his own, “I love you I love you.”

He drags her up his body so she’s straddling his face and admires the mess he’s made of her cunt. A gentle tap with the back of his hand, and slides his fingers in the mess, lets it drip down, licks at her like the feral, hungry animal that lives inside of him. She’s on the pill and for a mad moment while he works his tongue inside her where she’s sore and sated, he wishes she wasnt.

If he got her pregnant, then, she couldn’t leave. She’d have to stay and they’d live their little life with their baby and they’d be happy and-

She’s coming again like a little earthquake, a burst of damp and her thighs are trembling so hard he takes pity on her and draws her down. Arms come back around her and Abby rubs her cheek against his shoulder, that place beneath his chin that was made just for her, the place made just so he could hold her close to him and their hearts could beat in time.

His Abby is made for great things. Things greater than this shitty town with the ghosts and the gators and the weights around their ankles. She’s far too good for him, far better than the rotted likes of him, but when she tilts her face back to kiss his jaw with another whispered, “I love you,” he thinks that maybe he’s being too hard on himself.

If Abby Strong could find something in him to love, then maybe he’s not such a lost cause.

“If you wanna go with them” he murmured against the crown of her hair, the scent of her shampoo faded to almost nothing by now. “I could… I could come with you.”

His chest is tight, his eyes shining with unshed tears. She’s not saying anything, just puffs of warm breath against his skin and he wonders for a moment if she’s fallen asleep. Then, little fingers trace the spot above his heart.

“Do you want to?” she whispers and it’s her scared whisper, the one where she hides with him under the covers and tells him about the bad dreams and the worries and the way she misses her mom.

“I just wanna be with you.” He steels himself and turns his head so he can look at her. Eyes shining with an expression he can’t quite figure out and the thunder rumbles overhead, rain lashing against the window.

A storm to wash everything bad away and make it new.

“I wanna be with you too.” She smiles then, and presses her flushed face into his neck. He tightens his arms around her.

“I’d follow you wherever you wanna go,” he tells her with his lips pressed into her hair. “I’m a balloon tied around your wrist. Red strings and all that. I’ll be good. I’ll be better. I’ll be whoever you want me to be.”

Just don’t leave me.

“Just be you,” she whispers. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just you. My Aegon.”

He nods and squeezes her tighter. “Your Aegon. Always.”

If you liked this story, I would love to hear what you think! Please reblog to share the love and let me hear your thoughts! Thank you for reading <3

[hee0soo]

The Meaning of a Flower

Pairing — ChoiJonghoxafab!Reader

Summary — The language of flowers was something Jongho had never bothered with. Maybe he should have tho...

Genre — angst

Warnings — Jongho being an idiot, mentioned arranged marriage

Wordcount — 2.2k

Rating — pg-13

A/N — This is for the CODN Spring Event - The Language of Flowers

I couldn't hold myself back and used more flowers then one hehe

Carnation - fascination, distinction, love

Daffodil - respect

Daisy - faith

Camellia (white) - waiting

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

As the youngest prince of the fae kingdom Aurora, Jongho didn't have as many responsibility’s as his brothers. He didn't have to worry about the crown that would soon be placed on his brothers head or about the expectations everyone had because of it!

No, he could simply be Jongho, at least until the winter came. Born a winter fae, it was up to him to bring the beauty of frost and snow to the mortal realm! He loved his season. It was where he felt the most comfortable as the winter came with a great boost for his energy and magic, making his fingers feel all prickly, excited to be properly released once more and giving his fingers a lovely sparkling blue hue!

While people at first glance thought him to be just like his season, cold and unapproachable, anyone who truly knew him knew that it couldn't be further from the truth! Soft like a teddy bear and endlessly devoted to his friends and family!

And then there was you. His beautiful bride to be and as a fairy of spring the bane of his existence! While there had always been a sort of rivalry between the seasonal fae, Jongho had a particularly strong sense of dislike for you. Being a springfae, you represented his one weakness! With the change of season, spring brought the gentle warmth of the sun, melting away the ice and snow and quickly replacing the cold the prince loved and lived for!

Short, he didn't like what you represented.

The fact that his parents had seen it necessary to arrange a betrothal between you and him when both of you were mere specks of sparkly fairy dust in the sun, did absolutely not help! It fueled his dislike with every try of his and parents to get you to at least be civil around each other. In your life, there had been countless times where two sulking fairy children were seen fluttering their wings at each other like angry birds trying to intimidate the other! He had found you greatly annoying, a sentiment you shared with him!

The prince hated the flowers that would appear seemingly out of nowhere all over the palace that seemed to have everyone charmed into liking you. He was seething at the sight of all the Carnations, Daffodils, Daisys and white blooming Camellias you left for him, knowing that he didn't bother to find out what they represented! They filled him with a burning warmth that he had never felt before in his life...

Huffing out a breath, Jongho watched the ice he had conjured up slowly engulf the little carnation placed on his pillow. Disdain crossed his face as he stared at it like it had personally offended him in some way before grabbing it to throw it to all the others into the threaded bin placed by his desk. The prince didn't understand why you kept leaving him these little presents when he had made it clear, more then once, that they weren't welcomed at all.

From sending them back to you, frozen and picked apart or just throwing them out wordlessly, he had made sure that you knew what he thought about it! It was do a point where even Hongjoong, his oldest brother and crown prince had sat him down to scold him about being incredibly rude to you and your feelings but it had just made him scoff and roll his eyes. What did his brother know about this, he had thought only to continue doing exactly as before.

Today however, he finally had enough! Without a moment of hesitance, he grabbed the flower filled bin, stormed out of his room down the hallway and into your room.

To say you were surprised to see him in your room was an understatement. Never had he seen it necessary to give you the time of the day much less actually search for your company or even recognize your presence! So to see your betrothed suddenly standing in the midst of your room while you were busy going over different spells you wanted to try for your upcoming season, was quite startling.

You opened your mouth, ready great him with a smile but Jongho faster. He emptied the bin on your desk, letting the petals fall out and give you a glare that had you frozen to your chair. The room suddenly felt a lot colder then just seconds before.

"Stop that!" he snapped and gestured to the pile. You looked down at it without knowing what to say. Usually you were always ready to match his snappy energy but seeing the withered flowers you had left him falling out of a bin left you speechless. They weren't ment to taunt him in anyway even if he obviously thought that, but more of a peace offering if not a message for him to read.

"I mean it y/n, stop sending me these stupid flowers! How many do I have to throw away for you to understand that I don't want them?" Jongho asked the hand that wasn't still holding the piece of furniture running through his hair and breathing heavy.

Something inside of you shattered at his words. To tell a spring fae that their flowers weren't wanted, could be considered as them saying that they didn't want you! Of course you knew that the youngest prince was  particularly phased by the gifts but you had hoped that by now, he had grown to like them a bit. It seemed that wasn't the case.

"Okay…”you exhaled with a slight nod of your head.

Maybe it was time to stop hoping and just accept things the way they were.

With a curt nod and one last scowl the man left you behind. Fingers gently touching a withered Camellia . Maybe it was time to stop waiting...

--------

The flowers stayed away. Nowhere in the entire castle were they found.

And Jongho hated it!

There was a cold falling on the castle that settled in his bones he didn't know how to feel about. Gone were the Daisys, Carnations and Daffodils and gone were the Camellias!

He didn't dare admit it to anyone, but he missed them and he missed you. Few had seen you since the encounter a few weeks ago save for Seonghwa and Yeosang your best friends and your missing presence had been greatly noticed!  Jongho was  confused as to why he suddenly felt so forlorn without you drying to annoy the living daylights out of him. It was almost boring now that he thought about it.

Instead of having your presence following him out into the gardens or the library or the dinning halls, you stayed away, giving him the space he had demanded for so long. Only that now he didn't want that anymore! Why didn't he want that anymore?!

The question plagued him to no end but his pride didn't want to acknowledge it.

"You seem to be deep in your thoughts, want to share them with me?" the deep voice of Yeosang ripped him out of his trance and his eyes flew away from the blooming fields of the palace garden.

The ethereal looking water fae eyed the younger carefully and moved to sit next to him. His transparent glimmering wings shone bright in the light of the sun.

"Don't look so surprised, you're not the only fae enjoying the warmth of spring!" he quipped.

Insulted by the mere suggestion of the other, the princes face fell drastically.

"I don't! And I have no idea what you're talking about!" he pouted.

"I'm talking about your mood that's been getting worse and worse. Come on Jongho, I know you don't like that I'm friends with y/n but I'm still your's, so talk to me?"

Yeosang watched Jongho play with his fingers, his wings twitching nervously.

The winter fae groaned in distress and looked at Yeosang. "Why do I feel like that?"

Yeosang raised a questioning eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

For a few seconds the only thing that could be heard was the chirping of the birds while Jongho thought about what to say. "I- I feel lost lonely, like something is missing but I dont know what or- "

"Or who?" Yeosangs cut in causing an affronted gasp from the other.

"What? No! I have everyone I need by my side!"

"But do you? Nothing changed?"

"Can you stop answering with questions? Seriously, I have no idea what you mean,"

Jongho rolled his eyes, orbs flickering ice blue for a moment. Yeosang held up his hands in surrender. "Just think about it, did really nothing change? Cause I think I know of some changes that could be the cause for all this brooding recently."

He hated that Yeosang was right in his assumption of that being the reason for his mood swings.

"Ahh, I see I've hit a nerve there!" Another glare at the water fae before turning back to the carnations blooming in front of him.

"Do you know what they mean? The flowers y/n left for you?"

It was embarrassing to say that he still had no idea what they meant and it was obvious to Yeosang that he didn't know. Years of receiving flowers and yet never had he cared nor thought about wanting to know about the meanings behind them! It was common knowledge that just like plant fairys, spring fairys used plants and flowers to deliver hidden messages but he always had thought of them as a taunt, never as a message.

"Maybe you should find out before it's to late. y/n is considering visiting the mortal realm this season and will leave soon..."

Somehow that information caused Jongho to freeze in horror.

No! You couldn't leave!  You were needed here! In this realm! In this palace! with hi-

The winter fae shook his head, hoping to shake this ridiculous thought from his mind. Why would he care if you left or not? He hated you, that didn't change even if he would like to have his flowers back!

"Well, what do they mean then? You were all talk already so tell me already!" he huffed, sure that he knew already what they meant. After all you did seem to have the same dislike for him that he had for you!

"You want to know? Really? Sure! Maybe we'll start with the Carnations since they're right here, let's see..." Yeosang tapped his cheek, mocking the other a little who fluttered his wings impatiently.

"Carnations, I think stand for fascination, the Daffodils mean respect, Daisys for faith and the white Camellias signify waiting..."

Okay, maybe he didn't know the meanings after all!

Fascination. Respect. Faith. Waiting.

Confused the prince stared at the flowers swaying in the wind. 4 Words he would have never thought to associate with you!

"You're lying to me!" he called the older out, causing a chuckle to burst out from him.

"Surprised to hear that y/n might not hate you after all?"

Jongho jumped up from where he was sitting. A sudden onslaught of anger coming over him.

"No you're lying to me! She doesn't think that highly of me! She's not fascinated by me and she sure doesn't respect me or have faith in me! Why would she? All i have ever been to her was dismissive! And what could she even wait for?" he whisper yelled, not wanting to alert any of the guards that were hovering in the distance.

"I don't know but the way you've been acting, you might never find out," The water fae shrugged and looked at him innocently.

Jongho rushed away, wanting to confront you about the nonsense your friend had spewed and frazzled him like nothing ever had in his life. However all he could find was a maid, also a fairy of Spring, cleaning your room but you were nowhere in sight!

"Oh, my prince! What can I help you with?" she chirped surprised.

"My fiance! Where is she?" he demanded hectically.

"The lady has left through a portal to the mortal realm not to long ago, your highness!"

The was knocked out of his lungs all of a sudden and before the maid could excuse herself he asked if what the water fae had said was true. The girl nodded. "Yes my prince, in general that is what these flowers are used to express this, however the Carnations are more common to tell someone they love them,"

With that she flew out and left his world standing on it's head! He sank down on your bed, slowly breathing to calm his franticly beating heart.

This couldn't be! You couldn't love him! It was just impossible!

And then all he could think about were the moments you had spent together! From childhood till now and every interaction suddenly seemed to shine in an entirely different light and the burning heat he had felt in all of them now felt much less like the hate he had thought it was and more like something equally as burning but much less negative!

But there was nothing he could do!

Now all he could do was wait for you to come back...

[jessybarnes]

I'll Show You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY! Minors GO AWAY

Tags: NSFW Title Card, Angst, Arguments, Bondage, BDSM, Praise Kink, Fingering (female receiving), Oral (male receiving), Throat-fucking, Unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP KIDS!), Begging (obviously), Fluffy ending, Language, and I think that’s it. HEED THE WARNINGS PLEASE!

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 3.6k

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

Dedicated to: @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr blog. I am in the process of moving all of my fics over to this blog. I hope you all enjoy!

From the moment you met Sam and Dean Winchester, you’d known your life was about to change. Be it bad or good was hard to determine, mainly because of what they did for a living, but a little part of it had to do with the fact that the elder of the two brothers didn’t seem to like you.

You couldn’t put your finger on it. Anytime he exchanged words with you, it was always cold and dismissive. Sam assured you that his brother would come around, but you weren’t born yesterday. Dean had something against you, and you, being the stubborn woman you were, aimed to figure it out. 

The three of you were sitting in the library sifting through lore for a case. There had apparently been reports of a Djinn hybrid in the Midwest, and you knew it had to be the work of Michael. Dean had his feet propped up on the table, a rather large dusty book in his hands. Sam was typing away on his laptop, the clicking of the keys being the only audible sound other than the occasional page turn.

You knew that finding a way to kill the latest and greatest monster of the week was what you should be doing, but you couldn’t focus. Not when this whole thing with Dean was eating at you. 

“I can’t do this anymore!”

The book you’d been holding was thrown carelessly onto the table, the sound reverberating off the walls making both brothers jump. 

Dean removed his boot-covered feet off the tabletop and planted them on the floor. You didn’t miss how his eyebrows knitted into a scowl or his signature eye roll.

“Giving up already, Y/N? You know, if the huntin’ life isn’t cut out for you, then you can see yourself out anytime.” 

Sam sighed and gave Dean his best bitch face.

“Dean! Whatever is going on with Y/N, I can assure you that you’re not helping!”

He turned his gaze to you, his hazel eyes looking at you sympathetically. You’d normally just keep your anger bottled up inside, but something inside you snapped. Being a hunter meant everything to you after a demon killed your kid sister, and for Dean to question your loyalty like that had crossed a line. Your anger started to rise within you, like a sea of molten lava until you were no longer in control of your emotions. 

Instead of storming off to your room and slamming the door for good measure like you normally would do, you stood and yanked the book Dean was reading out of his hand. You were gnashing your teeth together in such a snarl that it was a miracle they didn’t break.

“You think you’re so fucking smug, don’t you Winchester? You think you’re this big badass and that nothing can touch you. Well, let me tell you something.”

Your small hand grabbed onto the front of his shirt, bunching it up between your fingers as you got dangerously close to his face.

“You don’t fucking scare me in the least bit!”

The venom in your tone was palpable and with a hard push of your free hand, he and the chair went crashing to the floor. 

Without giving him a chance to fire an insult back, you headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. You could hear Dean’s muffled voice as he spat angrily in response to his brother’s laughs. It only made the smirk on your face wider. Maybe now Dean will show you some respect. 

The rest of the night was pretty quiet. You stayed in your room, scouring the internet for a way to kill the monster in question, and munched on some popcorn. The research came easily to you, your eyes scanning effortlessly through article after article. Even though you still hadn’t found a weapon to kill this Djinn on steroids, you knew your efforts would make Sam proud. 

You felt his presence before he knew you did. He loomed in the doorway, leaning against it like it was the only thing keeping him from falling.

“Can I help you, Dean?”

You didn’t even bother to stop reading the article you’d found. He was probably just here to start something with you, and you had neither the time nor the energy to fight. Instead of replying, he pushed off the doorframe and stalked towards you, his shadow spreading across you and your keyboard. 

You knew he was waiting for you to look at him, but you honestly didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction. Why should you? He’d been nothing but an ass to you since you moved in. So instead of giving him what he wanted, you continued to read. 

Apparently, Dean got tired of not having your attention because the next thing you knew, he’d taken your laptop and tossed it on your pile of dirty laundry in the corner. He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw clenching as he looked down at you.

“What the hell do you want, Dean? I’m trying to find a way to kill that fucking Djinn. You’re not still pissed about me putting you on your ass, are you? I mean, you kind o-HEY! LET ME GO!” 

In one swift motion, he’d pulled you to your feet and shoved you against the wall. Dean’s chest heaved and his nostrils flared as he towered over you with his full height.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you Y/N?”

His forearm pressed into your chest, not hard enough to hurt you, but firmly enough to hold you in place. 

Even at your disadvantage you still stood your ground. Your eyes narrowed perilously, certain that if looks could kill then Dean would have been done for.

“Oh, you think I don’t get it?! Trust me, Dean. I think I get exactly what you’re doing. Ever since I came here, you’ve been nothing but hostile to me! It’s because I’m a woman, isn’t it? You think just because I’m a woman that I can’t hold my own. Well, I’ve got news for you, Dean Winchester. I can do the job just as good as you any day of the fucking year!” 

You were so caught up in getting your point across that you hadn’t noticed the amused look on his face. His laugh filled the small room as he let go of you. Tears streamed down his face as he hunched over, and it pissed you off that he thought this was amusing. 

Finally, he swiped his sleeve over his eyes and took a few deep breaths to regain his composure.

“Is that what you think? You really think I’m a dick to you because you’re a woman? Oh my God… I thought you of all people would at least get it.”

He sighed and ran a hand across his face.

“Look, Y/N, It’s not because you’re a woman. Hell, some of the greatest hunters I know are women. I’m trying to protect you! I don’t want you to go through what Sammy and I have gone through. You’ve already lost one family member, and I’ll be damned if you lose your life, too. Just… Let Sammy and I handle the hunts okay? You can hold down the fort here in the Bunker and be our research guru. That I know you can handle.” 

It was your turn to laugh.

“What do you know about handling anything? You could barely handle that case with the nest of nearly invincible vampires. What makes you think you can just walk in here and tell me what I can and can’t deal with? I mean, as long as we are on the topic, Let’s just be honest with ourselves, shall we?"

"You couldn’t handle me if I came with a user manual!”

The look on Dean’s face darkened. It sent heat straight to your core, something that you could almost always control when it came to the elder brother. Normally, his asshole demeanor outweighed him being the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on. You swallowed thickly as he invaded your space again. His once sparkling green eyes were now clouded with something new, something you’d only seen him offer to the occasional stripper or hooker that he brought back to the hotel.

“Are you challenging me, Y/N?” 

You tried to hide the fact that he was having an effect on you, but your flushed skin and rapid heartbeat betrayed you. Your answer came easily, and the submissive part of you that lay dormant for so long surfaced like a rekindled flame.

“Yes.” 

Dean brought one of his hands up to your face and cradled your cheek in it, the touch alone sent sparks through your veins. His freckles were so easy to see this close. Constellations mapped the entirety of his cheeks, and you briefly wondered if he had them elsewhere. Your eyes flicked from his intense gaze down to his lips, silently willing him to close the small gap between you and devour your mouth.

“Now now, Y/N, is that any way to talk to me? I think you know better. Yes what, sweetheart?” 

You looked down at your bare feet, Y/E/C eyes focusing on the remnants of the chipped polish on some of your toenails. Your mind contemplated what was about to happen. You could still back out of this, push him out of the way, and run. That wouldn’t solve anything though. Running from your deepest desires, from Dean, was what you’d essentially been doing for months. It was now or never and quite frankly you wanted to give in. You wanted him to have full control over you, and you’d dreamed about it more than you’d like to admit.

“Y-Yes, Sir.” 

Two of his fingers rested underneath your chin, raising it so you were looking up at him.

“Good girl.”

His praise was the first nice thing he’d ever said to you, and you’d be lying if it didn’t make your heart sing. His lips closed the distance and pressed against your own hungrily. His tongue slid into your awaiting mouth and you moaned sinfully. He tasted of cinnamon and whiskey, just like you’d always imagined.

Dean broke the kiss and touched his forehead against yours, his hands coming to rest on the curvature of your waist.

“Go to my room, Y/N. I want you to be stripped and kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed before I get back. Do you understand?”

Your response was immediate. Almost like a reflex, as it left your lips in a whisper.

“Yes, Sir.”

He watched you leave the confines of your room before heading the opposite way. Your feet padded down the hallway and came to a stop outside the closed door of Dean’s room. It had been years since you’d had a dom, and even then they hadn’t exuded as much dominance as Dean had just moments ago. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you entered his room and closed the door behind you. The smell of his cologne wrapped itself around you like a hug. The familiar scent calmed your nerves instantly and soon you found yourself naked and kneeling at the foot of the bed just as you had been told to do. 

Dean came in a few minutes later and set what sounded like something heavy on top of his dresser. You didn’t dare look up though. He hadn’t given you permission, and you wanted to show him that you could be good and obey him.

“Look at you, doing what you’re told like a good, little girl. See? I knew you could do this. I bet you’re soaking wet already, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” 

Once again his fingers came to rest under your chin, tilting your head so you were looking up at him through your lashes.

“Get on the bed.”

He wasn’t mean about it, but his tone was firm and laced with an underlying warning of consequence if you disobeyed. Swifty and quietly you climbed onto the comforter and resumed your kneeling position. Dean walked around to the other side of you and sat down. He was still fully clothed, but you could clearly see his erection tenting his jeans.

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s talk about the rules. You are to address me as sir, and only sir. Don’t cum until I tell you to, and if you ever feel uncomfortable with something that I am doing, then please use the safeword ‘cake’. Do you understand? 

Hearing that your safeword was cake confused you at first, but when you thought about it for a moment it made sense. Dean was a pie fanatic. Especially if it was pecan pie, but you’d never seen him eat cake. Let alone mention it. So you could see how he’d come up with it in the end.

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

Dean seemed convinced by your response so you stayed still and waited for his next command. You could hear him pick whatever he had brought with him off the dresser, and your pulse quickened at the thought of what he was about to do to you. 

The bed dipped behind you, and his hot breath fanned across the back of your neck making you shiver.

“Clasp your hands behind your back for me, baby. I’m going to restrain you now so you stay still for me.”

You brought your hands behind your back, interlacing your fingers together so your wrists rested against your tailbone. The feeling of the nylon rope being looped around your wrists made you impossibly wetter. The thought of being restrained and letting none other than Dean Winchester worship your body was enough to make you cum, but you couldn’t do that. Not when he’d specifically told you not to. 

Dean made quick work of the black rope. He maneuvered around your torso, wrapping it around each elbow and tying a knot in the middle to lock your arms in place. The rest of it was placed expertly around your chest and tied off, the final knot resting along your shoulder blades. He let you fall head first into the mattress, your head turning to the side so you could breathe. He stepped back to admire his work.

“A damn good job if I do say so myself. It’s not too tight, is it, darlin’? 

You took a moment to tug at your binds and unclasp and reclasp your fingers. Everything still had circulation, but you still couldn’t break free if you tried.

“No, everything feels fine, sir.”

You heard him walk behind you, no doubt enjoying the view of you on display to him.

“God, you look so fucking beautiful like this. Look at you… showing me that perfect, round ass and that tight, little pussy of yours.”

He ran one of his fingers through your folds, and it took everything in you not to moan. Your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from making any noise.

“Mmmm just as I thought, soaking wet just for me.”

The thick digit left you and you looked into his lust-blown eyes as his lips closed around it.

“So good, Y/N. Now, are you ready for me to test you? Gonna show me what a good girl you are?”

You shook your ass at him for good measure and replied without hesitation. “I’m ready, sir.” 

Dean grabbed onto your hips and pulled you to the edge of the bed, his clothed erection applying slight friction to your needy cunt. He ran his middle and index fingers through your juices a few times before sliding them into you.

“Be as loud as you want, princess. Sam isn’t here to hear you. It’s just you and me.”

Ever so slowly, he moved his fingers in and out of you, making you moan loudly.

“F-Fuck!” 

His pace increased, and you felt the coil of heat tighten. You were so close already and he’d barely gotten started. You felt your walls tighten slightly and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to maintain control. Dean knew how hard you were trying and you also knew he was competing with you. Using his skills to his advantage to see how much you could take.

“Oh shit… shit shit shit… I don’t know if I can…. FUCK!”

Dean curled his fingers so they hit that spot inside you with each thrust. Soon you couldn’t hold back any longer. With a cry of his name, you came hard, squirting all over his hand and the bed. 

The white-hot orgasm nearly made you pass out, and by the time your climax was over you knew you were in trouble. You couldn't see his face, but you were sure Dean wasn’t happy.

“Tsk tsk tsk … Y/N, you knew the rules. I seem to remember you agreeing to them and look at what you’ve done. You’ve made a mess, sweetheart.”

Just as you were about to apologize, he picked you up and set you gracefully on your knees.

“Are you ready to show me how sorry you are?” 

Balancing on your knees while you were tied up like this was difficult, but being this close to Dean’s cock made your mouth water.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry for disobeying you, sir. May I make it up to you by having you fuck my throat?”

The groan that left his lips was downright the most sinful thing you’d ever heard, and you definitely wanted to hear him make that noise again.

“Fuck… you read my mind, sweetheart.”

Dean began to circle you, watching you like a hawk would its prey. His tie was the first thing to go. Seeing him reach his right hand up and rip it off shouldn’t be as sexy as it was, but at this moment anything Dean did was sexy. He stopped in front of you and undid his belt and the top button on his pants, letting them pool carelessly at his ankles.

Finally, he freed his cock and you watched as he pumped it a few times. A bead of precum wept from the tip, and you leaned forward to catch it on your tongue. Your mouth closed around the head and Dean let you set the pace at first, more praises flying from his mouth as you took him in as deep as you could. 

“That’s it, princess… suck my cock. Mmmmm, you’re so fucking good at that. Taking it so well.” 

His hand fisted in your hair and you let him take over. You relaxed your throat as he took what he wanted from you, your eyes watering more and more every time he hit the back of your throat.

“Jesus… you have one helluva mouth, Y/N.”

He began to pant and his thrusts began to falter. His grip loosened on your hair and you whined as he pulled himself from your mouth.

“Now, baby, don’t you want me to cum in that pretty pussy of yours?”

As much as you wanted to make him come apart with your mouth, having him buried inside you was more appealing at the moment.

“Please, sir. Please fuck me.” 

Once again he picked you up, moving you back onto the bed with ease. Dean crawled behind you again, placing a hand on each of your hips. Without warning, he sheathed himself all the way to hilt, both of you crying out in pleasure. Dean set a harsh pace, his fingertips surely leaving bruises on your skin. You knew you would be sore. He was not, by any means, lacking in size. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t allow you to adjust to him. 

His thrusts began to falter again, and you felt that familiar feeling come back. You tightened yourself around him, and he growled, fucking you harder into the bed.

“S-Sir!... please, sir! Please, may I cum? … F-Fuck!”

You were so close to the peak of pure bliss that you could almost taste it. You just needed a little more. Dean grabbed onto the knotted rope in the middle of your back and pulled you so your back was to his chest. His other hand snaked around your body and circled your clit vigorously.

“Fuck, Y/N… C’mon, princess… Cum all over my cock. Let go, baby.” 

A few more seconds of him fucking up into you and you fell over the edge taking him with you. Your walls milking Dean for all he was worth. He held you there for a few minutes, your heavy breathing in sync as you both came down from your high.

Dean placed a chaste kiss on your back and pulled out of you. He took his time untying you, being careful not to irritate your skin further. Once you were free you stretched your arms and popped your knuckles. 

Dean sat with his back to the headboard and pulled you into his lap, his hands rubbing your back gingerly.

“You did so well, Y/N. I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing.”

He kissed you sweetly and you melted against his chest, your eyes fluttering shut from exhaustion. 

You listened to the steady beat of his heart and somehow made your brain form a coherent thought.

“I’m glad we were able to settle things, Dean. I was beginning to think you really did hate me. I understand everything now.”

He kissed the top of your head and held you protectively. “I could never hate you, Y/N. Not when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, princess.”

His words shocked you, but you were too tired to respond. Sleep came easy for you in Dean’s arms, and you couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow to see what this new life with Dean would bring you.

[shieldofiron]

Vibe Check

The Frat Boy Au, Part 2 - Rated M for UST

Read Part 1 on Ao3 or tumblr.

Billy missed this view. Their room is still only half unpacked, a wreck after they'd stumbled in after the first week of school party, but it has the most important thing in it.

Harrington is asleep, body flung across his bed, his shitty blue comforter bunched around his waist. The early morning light is slanted across mole studded skin, and his long dark lashes flutter.

As do the butterflies in Billy's stomach.

He reaches out with itchy fingers, flinging the comforter up and catching a tantalizing glimpse of Steve's ass in the light as he straddles Steve.

He smacks it lightly, playing Harrington's ass like bongos, hot under the collar when Harrington yelps, jolting for a second up into Billy's hand. He can't really resist grabbing hard, leaving a handprint behind when he has to pull back to avoid Harrington's swinging arm.

"What the fuck asshole?" Harrington pulls the comforter over himself like a chick in a bad romantic comedy, holding it over his tits.

"Wake up, Pretty Boy, we're gonna miss breakfast!"

"I'm hungover as fuck, I'm not going to breakfast!" Harrington flops back to the bed. "Did you hear that screaming last night?"

Billy grins, "Looks like Eddie's mystery girl stuck around."

Steve groaned, "I have to find my earplugs. Last year she kept me up practically every night"

Billy wagged his tongue for a second, "Come on pretty boy, get up, they're making the breakfast burritos you like downstairs. Plus we can see if after a YEAR of dating Eddie finally has the balls to bring his girl to breakfast."

Harrington just covered his face with his arm, "Give me 10 minutes. God, you're such a freak."

"I'll save you a seat," Billy threw his favorite letters over his head, snuggling into the sweatshirt's warmth. "Missed you over the summer, Pretty Boy."

"Missed you, dickwad. You better save me a seat."

Billy nodded, catching another glimpse out of the corner of his eye as Harrington threw off the covers and sat up. But he headed out swiftly, a spring in his step that had been missing all summer, even though he was back in Indiana, aka God's armpit, rather then lounging at Argyle's parents beach house.

Speak of the Devil.

"Ay, brochacho," Argyle threw his arm around Billy's shoulder. "How's the plans for pledge week going?"

"Ask me when I'm not hungover as fuck, Prez," Billy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," Eden is lounging in the doorway, already looking meticulous in dark lipstick and a full outfit. "Didn't you see how many body shots he took off of Steve?"

Billy just stuck out his tongue at her, getting a certain finger in response.

Argyle snakes an arm around her waist and tows them both forward, "Play nice. C'mon, lets get something to munch on, I'm starving."

The house is lowkey a wreck, even the dining room. Billy can vaguely hear Jason Carver whining down the table that they ought to clean up before the house cleaners got here Monday, just to show house pride. Before Eddie shoves the business end of a burrito in Carver's mouth, grinning when Carver sputters and spits. There's no sign of the screamer that haunts Eddie and Carver's room next door, only the two of them pissing each other off while joined at the hip.

The table's filling up fast, and there's more than one friend or girlfriend or hook up sitting while a brother stands.

"You better be sitting there to save it for me, dick," A whisper shimmers across Billy's skin, and he doesn't have to turn to see that it's Harrington. He knows him by the mint of his mouthwash, by the smell of his hair product, by...

Billy turns and smacks his own lap, "Best seat in the house, princess."

Patrick's girlfriend Chrissy titters nervously on Billy's other side when Steve just huffs in response, his free hand fisting at his side.

"Come on, Pretty Boy," Billy rubs his thigh, "Saved it for you."

Steve slams down hard, clearly intending it to hurt. But Billy doesn't mind, gets a hint of that hair product and mint mixed with the party grime of the night before, hidden under a freshly laundered polo.

Billy snakes a hand around to Steve's stomach, almost laughing himself when Harrington's abs flex under his hand. He wonders if he was puking up in their bathroom. He wonders if Harrington was making use of that morning wood that Billy caught a glimpse of.

He has to take a deep breath of that Steve scented air, curling his hand into Steve's waist while Steve ignored him, digging into his burrito with all the table manners of a feral cat.

It didn't matter how many times this summer he'd caught the perfect wave, or how many times he'd gone out with Argyle, or gone home with someone else. It was stupid, being stuck on a straight guy.

But that had been Billy's reality ever since he'd seen Harrington's big brown doe eyes blink at him during rush week. He was down bad, following Steve to Theta even though he'd been offered several other fraternities hungry to snag his excellent grades and prestigious scholarship cred.

It all didn't matter when he could barely think about anything else. Did he impress Steve? Probably not. Did he have a chance? Not one in hell.

But he had this, hand on Steve's waist. He had mornings sleeping next to him if not with him. Maybe one day he would think he'd thrown his college experience away on this.

He tickles Harrington, who jolted, slamming his knee into the table and glaring at Billy. But he's sinking into Billy's soothing touch, his spine melting a little as Billy rubs slow circles over his hip.

This would have to be enough for now.

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄNo Room For Prayerꨄ

Oneshot - Demon Apocalypse/Soulmate Au

❦Y/n gets captured by demons❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Demon language is red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

No Room For Prayer

Y/n breathed heavily as she managed to catch her breath, sweat falling down her skin as the hairs on her limbs stood. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she held her chest, feeling the sensation of her heart beating fast. Finally getting her breath steady, she calmed her heart rate, bottom against the dirty floor of the abandoned house.

Ever since the demons took over a couple years back, she’s had to fend for herself, moving from house to abandoned building, and so on. She resides in the part of the city where the lower class demons roam for the scraps and stranded humans that were not chosen by upper class, high ranked demons.

Food is minimal and she can’t catch a break whether it be by a demon or feral human. She has a deep hatred for the demonic race considering it turned her life upside down. Sure, life before could’ve been better but the past beats the present by a long shot. Eyeing her surroundings, she stands from her position crouched on the floor and walks through the house with her flash light.

She glances around the kitchen she walked into, wincing at the blood stained on the wall, a mixture of dried and fresh. She ignores the smell of rotting food and opens the pantry for any canned greens or meat. She swung her back pack around to open it and set some of the cans inside of her bag.

Honestly, she’d rather be here than with the upper class demons because they preserve their human alive or not, slicing or tearing what they want and maybe saving the torso or other body parts for another day. You either become a slave, maid, servant, or meal. There’s really no warning sign, you’re just snatched and that’s it. At least she has a chance of survival with no responsibility to serve or be served unless by accident.

She opens the fridge, covering her nose as the grimy stench reaches her nostrils. She sees nothing but rotting fruit and meat. Mold infested the inside, the milk that was left had no sign of liquid. She shuts the door after noticing maggots, preventing herself from feeling sicker. No matter how long it’s been, the rotting sign of humanity that was left disgusted her to the point of gagging.

She checks for any water bottles in the cabinets and finds a few hidden behind other boxed food. She didn’t bother to check the freezer knowing that she hasn’t found a place to stay long term and never will. Considering the doors of every place she’s been at has been kicked down, she can’t cook in peace. The smell of food would attract the demons, knowing a human is near by their cooking.

She sighs as she opens the can of peas, tossing the top to the side as she uses one of the remaining plastic spoons she stole from the local deserted grocery store. She recollects the events that brought her to this day.

“What is that?” Her close friend asks.

The sound of banging continued on the door of their apartment.

“The police?” Y/n suggests as she sets the blunt to the side, a nervous wreck as she’s never experienced being caught with flower before.

“They would’ve announced that by now.”

The banging accelerates as well as growing louder before it completely stops.

“What the fuck?” Y/n whispers, her knees pulled to her chest as she sits next to her friend on the couch.

The only thing that could be heard was their shaky breathing. Before they know it, the door is shoved off of its hinges, hitting the wall as a large creature steps in. The girls scream as they run in the opposite direction of the monster. Unfortunately, Y/n’s friend’s ankle was yanked, stopping her from running and causing her to fall on her stomach.

“Run! R-Run!” Her friend desperately cries. “Don’t let me die in vain! Survive, Y/n!”

“I-I’m so sorry!”

Y/n turns on her heel and makes an escape through the back door, the door slamming shut right after she hears a shred of skin along with her former friend’s scream.

She shuts her eyes before grabbing her bag and swinging it on her shoulder, taking a bite out of the peas. She lives in regret for not even attempting to help her friend escape. Her only excuses being she was scared, caught off guard, and high. Especially with the break in being from an unknown monster and not a human. She shakes her head, pushing the thoughts out of her mind to focus on her situation at hand. She continues eating until finished.

Y/n pauses when she hears rustling and footsteps. Her eyes widen as she holds her breath, slowly stepping to the opposite direction from where the noise is coming from. She looked at her surroundings to find another exit to the kitchen.

The window!

She sets the empty can down and quietly moves to the window, unlocking it before sliding it open. She climbs through and falls on the ground with a thud. Cursing herself for the noise she begins to make her way around the house, ready to make a run for it until she’s grabbed from her bag.

“Human! Kneel.” She’s yanked to the ground, her backpack being her support. Her eyebrows furrow as she makes an attempt to escape before a foot pressed in between her breasts, forcing her to lie down.

“Comply or we’ll take you by force.” The demon guard states. She shakes her head.

“Fuck you!” She says before pulling out her knife and stabbing it in his ankle causing his foot to lift off of her body. She jumps up and drops her back pack to make it easier for her to run, though the other guard snatches her back and grips her arms. He pulls his arm back before punching her face, causing her head to drop unconscious.

Eyelids shoot open as Y/n immediately sits up, sweat falling down her head as she breathes heavily, the memory of running from the guards stuck in her brain. Feeling weightless she notices her bag out of her sight, turning abruptly to the side to see it settled beside her. She yelps in pain as her hand goes straight to her face where she was punched, memories collecting from before she was unconscious.

“You should take it easy there.”

She gasps as she sees the newcomer, immediately shooting up from her spot on the mattress and standing across the small room at a potential threat.

“Woah there. Everything is fine, alright? Name’s Rin. I saved you.”

She stood in attack mode, her body tense as her eyebrows furrowed.

“Saved me?” She eyes his figure, mullet pulled into a messy ponytail with a few strands loose. His casual attire dirty from what she assumes to be survival. His hands are held up in surrender. He nods in response.

“I saw you fighting that demon when I snuck into the house. Once he knocked you out, I fought him off and brought you here.”

She relaxes her arms as they drop to her sides, though still suspicious of the guy known as Rin.

“Y/n.” She states. He runs his fingers through his bangs.

“We should get goin. The sun’s out so that means there’s less monsters are around.”

“We? I barely know you. Where would we go anyway?” He sighs.

“Well, you don’t have to come with me but I thought you’d like to find the refuge of people on the other side of the city.”

“What refuge of people?” He looked at her with a surprised expression.

“You don’t know about the group of survivors? That’s where my brother is. I’m surprised you didn’t know about it.”

“Oh.” She replies, conflicted on whether or not she should follow.

“I’m going to leave soon so if you need time to think, you have about five minutes.” He says before walking out of the door.

She sighs, “Wait! I’ll come with you.”

He turns his head to give her a side eye, smirking in the process.

“Let’s go then.”

It takes them a total of seven days to make it across the city. She followed him as he knew where to go. They had a couple demon attacks, but nothing that couldn’t be beat, the perks of dealing with the lower class demons that range from weak to strong. They stopped at different houses and buildings for food and shelter, along with releasing their waste. It was eerie not seeing any other humans during their journey. She was used to coming across at least one or two a day whether they be feral or normal. It brings her temporary comfort. Unfortunately, she hadn’t got to experience that besides Rin being around which brought her some security.

They conversed along the way and she learned some things about him as well as vice versa. He told her about his brother, Ran, and their friends. All in all, they’ve become closer, especially with him fitting as her protector in a way when fighting off the creatures. It felt good to have someone help her along this tough voyage. Finally reaching the top of the hill, he holds his arm out to stop her from walking.

She gazes at the dark castle, searching for the humans they spent so long talking about. She looks around in confusion until she noticed the dreadful creatures in uniform.

“R-Rin. What’s going on? Where’s the village?”

“Well the village is here, Y/n.”

“What do you mean? Why are there demons? Where did you bring me?” She asks as goosebumps form. Her stomach drops when he walks toward her, palm on her cheek.

“I guess I can go ahead and tell you, Y/n. You’re our destined sixth.” She eyes him with confusion. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. Who’d want a weak human as a sixth mate? Instead of grabbing you, I wanted to test the waters and really get to know you out of boredom. It was fun playing human and all, but I really missed life here.”

Her eyebrows furrow as she snatched his hand away from her face.

“Y-you’re a demon.” She states, angry for being such a fool.

“To answer your question from earlier, I’ve brought you home.”

“No, no, no!” She exclaims, backing away from him. Her arms are caught by tight grips as she’s held up by the guards holding her limbs. Rin chuckles at the display of distress on her face.

“Yeah, it was easier than I thought it’d be. We’ll explain more later. You should rest, Y/n. You don’t look so good.”

Before she could respond, he motioned for the guard to shoot her with a tranquilizer.

She groans as her eyes open, blurred out vision revealing a ceiling as she wakes up. She slowly moves to rub her eyes, her ear perks when she hears a clunking sound. Pulling herself to sit up she notices her wrist cuffed to the wall of the cell, as well as the white gown on her figure.

She gazes at her clean skin, the dirt and grime from minimal showering completely gone. She gently rubs her skin as well as checking her body for any marks or injuries. She sighs in despair, remembering how she heard from somewhere that they clean their victims before serving the dish.

She turns her head to the guard who opens her gate, walking towards her with a set of keys. Getting ready to attack, her body tenses as she waits for him to unchain her. Once she’s unchained, she immediately punches his face and kicks his stomach, causing him to fall to the side.

Normally, he would’ve been able to fight her off and block her attack by using his own strength, but she caught him off guard, therefore he wasn’t expecting the attack. She snatches the keys that fell to the ground and runs out of the cell, locking him in just in time as he grabs the bars, stretching his arm to reach after her as he growls.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She hissed as she ran out of the door and through the hall.

My dumbass has no plan, no direction. Absolutely nothing to go off of but my legs. How the hell am I going to get out of here?

She pushes through servants and maids unapologetically as she ignores the pain in her legs and tightness forming in her chest as her breathing becomes ragged. She keeps her eyes straight ahead as she hears commotion from behind, guards gathering as they run after the human. Holding her hands up, she pushes through the random pair of black doors, entering a dining room.

Wide eyed, she ignores the demons eyeing her as she grabs a large knife. She stands beside the table, glancing at the content. A raw human’s body lays at the middle of the table, the head completely decapitated and nowhere to be found as the limbs have been cut off, different pieces of meat on everyone’s plate. She turns her head in disgust and gags.

“Oh my fucking god!” She exclaims. “Sick beasts!”

“I deeply apologize for this interruption, your highnesses.” The lead guard bows.

“This is quite entertaining.” The purple, short haired demon says as he takes a sip from his alcoholic beverage.

“Indeed, brother. I don’t ever recall a human creating such a commotion. Told you she was interesting.” Rin states, fiddling with the half eaten finger on his plate.

“Get back!” She exclaims, pointing the large knife at the guards who stalk closer. Scared out of her mind, she acts on impulse and grabs the black haired short man by the arm, pulling him out of his seat as she puts him in a chokehold with the knife pointed at his head. Demons' weak point is an impact to the head. If they get shot or stabbed in their brain, it will kill them. Anywhere else is child’s play considering they can heal themselves.

The pink haired demon almost stood up from the table to grab his lover from the arm of the human, though the golden eyed man set his hand on his thigh causing him to halt and look back at him with his piercing blue eyes.

“I’d be more worried for the human than Mikey, Haru.” He smiles, showing his fangs.

Mikey kept his eyes straight with a stoic expression, not bothering to struggle considering he could easily remove himself from her hold. The only thing keeping him from shredding her right now is the familiar tingling from their skin on skin contact. Pulling his head back he makes eye contact with her for a split second, causing her to release him from the intense shock she felt through her body.

“Leave her.” He states. His mates furrow their brows in confusion as well as the guards.

“B-but your Highness…” His dark eyes narrow at the guard.

“Are you questioning your King?”

The guard bows with a ‘no, your Highness,’ and guides his men out, shutting the door behind them.

Y/n could only stare in horror as she got a good look at her surroundings, realizing she’s in a room full of high class royals. She looks for any windows, desperate for an escape. When her eyes meet the familiar purple, a scowl forms on her face as she aims and throws the knife at Rin’s head, in which he dodges with ease causing the weapon to penetrate the wall behind him.

“This is your fucking fault!” She exclaims.

“Sit down.” Mikey states calmly, fed up with the situation at hand.

“I’m not sitting dow-!” She was cut off by a sudden force picking her up and shoving her in one of the seats, a pressure preventing her from getting up. Mikey sits back in his seat which is at the end of the table across from hers. She stares at them with disgust as they study her.

“She’s so…plain looking. How could she be our sixth?” Sanzu asks, rolling his eyes as he rests his hand on his palm.

“What did you expect from a human?” Rin takes a sip of his own beverage.

“I think she’s cute.” The golden eyed man states, chuckling at his mates conversation.

“You think everyone is cute, Kazu.” Mikey states with a tired eyed smile.

“Hey, that’s not true!”

“Don’t be in denial. It’s okay to admit that you’re a little slut.” Ran smiles widely.

“You certainly don’t mind admitting it in the bedroom.” Rin says.

“EXCUSE ME! What the fuck is going on?” Y/n, sick of the playful banter that she can’t understand, exclaims. She subconsciously backs away as different eyes bore into her.

“Somehow, you are our sixth destined soulmate.” Kazutora explains before taking a bite out of the forearm causing Y/n to look away.

“Humans don’t have soulmates.” She responds with confusion.

“You do now.” Sanzu scoffs. She glares at him before turning her attention back to her own empty plate, not wanting to see the view of the eaten human body.

“This seems to be a new thing for us all. Considering we knew of your arrival, we have everything planned out.” Ran states. Her eyebrows furrow at the word ‘planned.’

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to be a good girl and follow all the rules.” Rin says.

“Fuck your rules, I’m not staying here!” She slams her hands on the table.

“Fine, you don’t have to follow the rules.” Mikey shrugs.

Her throat closes as her arms and legs are bound by an invisible force. Her nostrils feel blocked as she struggles to gain some air, failing as her mouth was forced shut. Her eyes tear up as she becomes light headed.

“You can just die.” Mikey says with a bored look.

“Poor little human. Such a waste of a pretty face.” Ran states mockingly, shaking his head.

“Is this your fate or will you listen?” Rin questions.

She shuts her wet eyes and nods frantically, desperate to breathe again. Finally, the hold is released before she coughs and breathes heavily.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Let’s begin.”

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Seven

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Will the Delphi family have the answers you seek?

Warning: language, ethnic slur, supernatural (kind of)

ao3 Link | Catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 7: Vagabond

Go and see the sorcerer, look into a ball. You might find the answer written on the wall. The left one was a dancer, can you see the answer, oh? Put her in a mansion on top of the hill.

Please, don’t make her do things against her will. I found something special, I don’t know why. Looking into her pretty little eye, ‘cause I’ll tell you everything about being free.

— Vagabond, Wolfmother

The cool air hit your skin as your lungs took in a deep breath, a familiar mix of sea salt and flowers. The wind whipped your long hair from your shoulders, lifting through your chiton dress and twirling the fabric around you.

You leaned against the railing of the garden’s terrace and took in the view. From your height, you could see the ocean from every angle beyond the mass of the city beneath you - one of the perks of living on a peninsula, you always thought.

Your father and brothers would be quick to tell you the perks from a combative standpoint, but that was for them to worry about.

The sky grew golden with the descent of the sun and a warm feeling crept threw your chest at the anticipation of what you knew would follow.

“Please,” you whispered your prayer, closing your eyes as the light in the sky began to dim.

“Your Highness.”

The deep voice felt like a warm blanket as it wrapped around your shoulders. You turned to find the object of your selfish prayers as he stood before you.

The palace gardener. The young man with the golden eyes and the sharp cheek bones. Who you met every day at sunset as he tended to your favorite place in the whole world. The place where you’d talked for hours, days on end since he started working at the palace.

Where, as of a moment ago when your prayers betrayed your desires, you realized you’d fallen in love.

“I’m so sorry,” you felt the tears begin to well just behind your eyes, swallowing thick to try and collect yourself. “I made a vow, a promise, a fealty to another.”

“A prince?” he asked politely.

You narrowed your eyes at his reaction, expecting him to be hurt, upset, even angry. But in the light of the moon, you caught the uptick of his cheek as a smirk threatened at his full lips.

“A god,” you replied, your heartbeat increasing as he took a step toward you. “I’ve promised myself to priesthood. I didn’t expect you —“

His smirk turned into a smile as he rose his hand to your face. “My love, you prayed for me, to me.”

Your eyes searched the meaning behind his words. The gold of his irises began to shine, then burn.

“My Lord,” you whispered, realization washing over you like a vase of cold water.

“What I didn’t expect,” your gardener — your god — went on as his thumb gently ran across your cheek down to your chin before catching your bottom lip, “was to fall for you.”

The wind was stolen from your lungs at his admission before he pulled your face up to meet your lips with his own. The kiss made your body feel like it was being consumed by the sun and you poured your own love into the unspoken act.

You pulled away, eyes wet with tears and cheeks tight with a smile, your body consumed with love as you met his eyes again.

You gasped — where you’d expected to see the warm golden eyes of the man you loved, instead they were ice blue. Cold, angry, hardened of any care you thought was there.

A terrible, horrible feeling began to consume your body as you felt unable to breathe. The man before you grabbed at your arms, this time with hatred and malice.

“I curse you, Cassandra! From this day forward—”

“Y/N!”

You jerked awake, the feeling of two hands holding you caused you to panic, the feeling of impending doom still lingering over you as your heart rate beat out of control. Pushing away, you tried to fight against the hold.

“Y/N, look at me!”

You stilled long enough for the hands to turn you toward the body attached to them, your eyes finally clearing as they met another.

Cold, ice blue eyes.

You gasped in fright, your brain fog still telling you you were in danger, the face of the man from your dreams come to life before you. But the eyes were different than they’d been before. Softer, kinder, worried.

“Fuck, Y/N, it’s me! It’s Tommy — look at me!”

“Tommy,” you repeated, your breathing finally slowing as the fog began to lift.

The eyes that you’d once been afraid of brought you comfort as you searched them. Tommy seemed to recognize that you were coming back, because he breathed out a sigh of relief as he lifted his hand to your cheek. You flinched for a moment, but at the warmth of his palm you leaned your head into it, your breath finally slowing enough for you to look around.

You were still in the seat of the wagon, which was currently stopped as the horse in front of you bent forward to eat.

“You fell asleep,” Tommy spoke again softly as he kept watching you, as if knowing that you were still working your way back to him. “You were dreaming.”

Dreaming. It was a dream.

As if a dam had broken, you gasped for air as the tears began to fall. It was a strangled cry, one of defeat and emotional pain. The dream, the loss, the confusion of being in this place, of being ripped from everything and having everything ripped from you.

“Hey, hey,” you heard Tommy say softly before you felt arms wrap around you and pull you into him. You gripped his shirt in an attempt to stable yourself, pushing your face into his chest. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

He pulled you back to look at him, taking your face between his hands again, doing a sweep with his eyes across your face.

“I’m okay,” you finally said, your cheeks still wet and breathing still deep, but you were back. You looked around to see that the sun was low in the sky. “Where are we?”

Tommy watched you for a second longer, dropping his hands and straightening in the seat. “Just outside of the Delphi camp. Johnny Dogs went ahead to let them know of our arrival and make sure it was safe.”

As if on cue, the sound of footsteps pulled both of your attentions forward as Johnny emerged from the hilltop, accompanied with another.

“Tommy,” you grabbed his hand and his head snapped back to you. “You have to tell me about your dream. The one in France.”

His brow furrowed and you spied a flush at his cheeks, “Now? Is now the best time for this?”

“Please,” you whispered out in almost a pathetic plea.

Not sure why, but you were overcome with the feeling that time was running out. And despite your hesitations, you needed to know now more than ever what Tommy’s dream was about. And more urgently, if it had anything to do with the one you’d just had.

“You said you saw me. Were we in a garden? Something ancient, with long tunics and dressings?”

Tommy’s face continued to contort into confusion. “A garden? No, now look. I don’t know what just fucking happened there with you — you looked like some of the men back from war. But Johnny Dogs is about to be here. We’ll have to be on guard in this place, with these people — they’re dangerous when offended. There’s a reason why they’ve been able to survive as long as they have. Be careful what you say, what you give away.”

The part of your brain that was catching up with the present more quickly than the other wanted to scold Tommy for not telling you such information sooner. You liked to be prepared for a situation before walking in. But, whether it was because he still didn’t trust you, or because he was just so used to keeping secrets for himself, he was putting you in yet another situation where you felt you were playing catch up.

This seemed to snap your brain back to itself. You nodded, momentarily forgetting your dream and Tommy’s as the two men approached you both.

“Follow us,” said the Delphi member.

Johnny Dogs sent Tommy an unspoken look along with a nod. Tommy must have interpreted it as a sign to do as the other man said and follow, calling out for the horse to walk on as the two men walked alongside the animal to steer it.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Tommy said in a whisper, eyes still facing forward. You moved your head to look at him but saw him shake his head. Adjusting back to the front, he went on. “Or maybe it was, I’m not sure. In the tunnels we uncovered an enemy explosive, the ricochet of it sent me backwards, cut at my chest. I was layin’ in the mud when my team found me, covered in blood.”

You took a deep breath, not daring to interrupt him or react in a way that would draw you both attention.

“In the dream,” Tommy continued, his voice barely loud enough for even you to hear. “I just saw you, not us. You were wearing a shirt — it was long, stoppin’ at your…” he cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed by his own dream but he pushed through, “thighs. You appeared to have nothing else on. The top was an odd thing in a dark blue color with a pyramid and a rainbow on it.”

Pink Floyd, you identified, the shirt in question appearing in your memory. It was your favorite sleeping shirt — old, soft, and baggy enough for you to walk around your flat like it was a dress. It was the shirt you were wearing your last night in 2018.

He went on, his voice still low enough to not arouse the company still leading them to the campsite. “In the dream, it was like I was hoverin’ over you. You were laying, surrounded by red sheets. Then a bright light lit up behind you, surroundin’ you before your eyes opened and looked at me. I reached out for you, tried to pull you back. But the light became so bright, I couldn’t see you anymore. I woke up to Freddie poundin’ on my fucking chest to start my heart back.”

A theory began to form in your brain as you started to put the pieces together.

“I think we saw each other that night,” you whispered, mostly thinking out loud. “I saw you in the mud, sinking, with blood covering you. You saw me in my bed…”

Traveling to the past, you wanted to finish, but kept the words to yourself.

Tommy took a deep breath next to you, taking in your theory. Ahead of you, the campsite came into view.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I’m hoping this place will have some answers.”

Tommy didn’t say anything more as they pulled into the camp, parking the wagon just outside next to Johnny Dogs’. The sun was fully set now as Tommy adjusted his jacket and jumped out of the wagon.

The Delphi member who had escorted them approached the wagon and offered you his hand to help you down. Tommy appeared next to him, eyes steady at the man until he took back his arm and retreated. You felt yourself want to roll your eyes at the exchange, but there was something in Tommy’s warning that made you appreciate it instead.

After the dream you’d just had, it felt good to feel safe again as you took Tommy’s hand and he steadied you to the ground. He kept his hand to your back as you both walked forward into the camp.

Watching him from the corner of your eye, you noticed him slip into something else. His face hardened into the signature Thomas Shelby glare, as if building a wall around his thoughts as you began to walk into the camp. His eyes were nonstop, scanning everywhere as if looking for potential threats or escape exists. It reminded you of how your father used to walk into crowded places — always alert for impending danger.

You took that as your own cue to do the same, finally taking in the camp around you.

You weren’t really sure what to expect, half picturing some of the movies you’d seen depicting gypsy campsites. A couple large fires were lit throughout the grounds, each surrounded by a gang of caravans — the largest was parked at the end of the alley, almost like a head of the table. There were more people around you than you imagined there’d be, with dogs running around and barefoot children chasing them.

One thing you did expect, but still found chilling to see in person — the sigil on the caravan the Delphi escort was walking you both toward.

A painting of a tree — a near perfect resemblance to the mark on your back.

“Madam Despoina will meet you now,” the escort said, opening the door of the caravan. “She’s asked that you wait for her here.”

You took a step toward the large caravan, feeling Tommy begin to follow you.

“Just the lady.”

The man lifted his hand between you and Tommy, stopping him from moving further. Tommy’s eyes flicked down to the hand, then back at the man.

“No,” you spoke up, the Delphi man looking back toward you but Tommy’s eyes never left his. “He comes with me.”

“She said nothing of the sort—“

“I don’t care,” you shrugged.

The man held your glare for a moment before exhaling in defeat. Tommy held the door of the caravan open for you to enter before following behind.

Inside, the caravan was dark, with a handful of candles lit around the parameter and on the table in the center. Tommy moved to sit on the far side of the table, facing the entrance, while you took the seat to his right. Across from you was the empty seat.

As you waited, you began to grow nervous, but you were desperate to stay aware of everything around you. In your quest to disprove your mother’s fortune teller claim, you’d gone on your own crusade to debunk the myth. But despite your skepticism, you found yourself wrapped up in the excitement of the moment.

“Do you know what kind of divination they practice?” You found yourself asking Tommy.

He shook his head.

“Palm readings, tarot cards, crystal balls, tea readings,” you rolled your eyes, giving the caravan a once over again. You noticed some unlit candles, pointing them out. “It’s all such bullshit, see. It could be brighter in here, but they chose to keep it dark. It’s part of their trick — a dark atmosphere decreases people’s sensitivity to movement, heightens their sensitivity to noise, and causes them to be more on edge and frightened at the little things. I can’t believe we’re here.”

Tommy’s brow rose at her deduction.

“I bet you dollars to donuts that when she sits down, she’ll ask for our hands. Another part of the act — decreases the possibility of disrupting the play. A form of misdirection. Keep your eye on her hand and you don’t see her move her knee to knock against the table crying out spirits.”

You felt your temper rise as you continued, not being able to stop yourself now from just rambling out of pent up anger and nerves. Your eyes met Tommy’s, who was appraising you curiously.

“Not a fan of gypsies, I take it?”

There was a hint of defense in his tone that punched at your gut. He thought you were judging his people and suddenly you felt the need to explain yourself.

“No, I didn’t mean— it’s not that. It’s just—“ you were having a hard time backing yourself out of this corner. You took a deep breath. “My mother wasted a lot of money and sanity on fortune tellers and seances. She thought they had answers to her questions and it became an obsession. I learned a lot to try and convince her that such stuff didn’t exist. That it was all parlor tricks, unconscious muscle movement, static electricity, light trickery—”

“She never believed you.”

An older woman’s voice came from the entrance of the caravan. Madam Despoina, you assumed, climbed into the wagon and took the seat across from you.

“She always knew there was an answer out there. A truth, just outside her grasp. She searched, the same way you now search. It’s ironic, no?”

“Madam Despoina,” Tommy greeted, nodding his head down as a show of respect.

The woman nodded in return, “Thomas Shelby.”

Madam Despoina turned then to you and reached her hand out, silently asking for your own. You sent a sideways glance to Tommy, who was already smirking at the action.

Did they have donuts in 1918? You quickly found yourself wondering.

“Please,” the Madam said softly. “It has been so long since your line has had answers.”

You crossed your arms, a direct defiance of her request, “My mother was desperate. I am not. What could you possibly know about me?”

You felt Tommy inhale sharply, an uncomfortable energy radiating off him as his back straightened and he kept an eye on the woman to his left. Obviously he had a better understanding of Romani decorum than you did — you wondered if you’d gone a little too far with your disrespect, misjudging the consequences.

But Madam Despoina only hummed and smiled, her eyes nearly sparkling with a challenge.

She folded her hands together as she leaned against the table, talking directly to you as she began. “Our lineages have traveled from the same ancient roads. I am a direct descendent of the original Pythia.”

“Pythia?” You repeated, the pieces finally beginning to take shape.

Greek history and mythology had been one of your favorite subjects in school, as it seemed to be for most kids in your time. But after learning that your own history may have led back to that country, that culture, it made you hyper-fixate on learning as much as you could. You loved the idea of these stories, these grandiose themes that people of an ancient world told to explain every day occurrences or creations.

Your dream began to itch at the back of your brain as you thought back to those lessons.

“The Oracle of Delphi,” you continued, a sly smile from the woman across from you aiding your confirmation. “No wonder the name sounded so familiar.”

“Oracle?” Tommy’s brow furrowed as he looked to you for an answer.

The Madam nodded, as if encouraging you to explain.

“They were priestesses of Ancient Greece,” you replied tentatively, careful with your words.

You knew this was another tactic used by fortune tellers, to get the payee to divulge information to use back at you, making you unwittingly believe that they knew all along.

You cleared your throat. “They told prophecies and were considered the most prestigious oracles in Greece.”

Madam Despoina nodded. “The Pythia was the most powerful woman in the ancient world. We channeled our ancient god and he spoke through us.”

“You know, there’s some that believe the explanation for the prophecy inspiration came from vapors in the springs below the temple,” you interrupted.

You remembered a professor who always loved to bring reason or scientific explanation to some of these tales as a way of relating them back to real world scenarios. You’ll never forget the way he’d compared Hercules killing his wife and children because Hera spelled him to see them as demons to a fit of roid-rage. You channeled that professor at this moment to regurgitate some of his words.

“That the shift of very specific, active fault lines and earthquakes released some kind of hallucinogenic gas, giving the illusion of connecting with the divine. And as for the possessions, some thought them to be epilepsies, brought on by either the gas or from chewing and inhaling the leaves of a poisonous plant — like the way Vikings used to eat magic mushrooms and burn leaves to see visions of trolls and giants and gods.”

Madam Despoina kept her smile as you talked, chuckling as you finished. “That is a very astute observation of our history. Perhaps it’s true. I never did believe that our power was fueled solely on magic or the divine alone.”

That surprised you. You hadn’t expected her to take your reasoning seriously — part of you thought she’d kick you out on the spot. As if reading your thoughts (or your facial expression, you reasoned), she chuckled again.

“Despite how the root came to be, it does not negate the clarity of the branches. We continue the Delphi name and practices in honor of that lineage,” she went on after giving you a moment with your thoughts. “Just as it seems, your mother continued yours.”

Your brow creased, “What do you mean?”

She closed her eyes and began to speak in another language, Latin perhaps, before opening them and speaking again, this time in English.

“Know thyself and thou shalt know all the mysteries of the gods and the universe,” she said cryptically, obviously reciting something, but you didn’t know it’s origin.

“Know myself?” You repeated, your brow creasing. “That’s what I came here for,” you replied, half annoyed, half skeptic.

“I know why you came here. It’s been long predicted of your arrival.”

You took a deep breath. “I was starting to like you. Do you have anything less generic to say?”

She smirked, “You still disbelieve our power, our connection?”

“I believe you’re trying to probe me with leading questions,” you replied, leaning your elbows against your lap. “That the power of suggestion is half the battle of divinity. You know why I’m here, you wouldn’t have agreed to meet with me if you didn’t already know there was some connection. I’m here for real answers, and you either have them, or you don’t”

“Aye, you are perceptive,” you were surprised to see her smile. “Most readings are easy — love, fortune, death, these are all pieces that are simple to persuade. But not you, not the one who branded herself with the tree of knowledge, of universal balance on your back.”

You felt yourself shift in your seat, your shoulders moved at the mention of your tattoo between them.

As you said, you guessed they already knew about it. Tommy would have had to give Johnny Dogs a reason for reaching out to the family, a reason strong enough to request an audience with the woman before you.

A quick glance at Tommy, who had narrow eyes on Madam Despoina, confirmed such.

Playing it off, you shrugged. “So, tell me something I don’t know.”

The woman smiled again, leaning forward to match your stance. “You were named after the cursed one herself. The first of your matriarch. The infamous Trojan princess.”

“Cassandra,” you answered. “The unbelieved prophet.”

Your dream itched harder in the back of your mind at the sound of your middle name being said out loud for the first time in years.

“A gracious gift given by the god himself at the promise of her body, who then twisted into curse once she refused to lay with him,” the Madam explained with almost a song-like quality.

Of course you knew the story. You’d been ecstatic when you began the Iliad and found your own name amongst the pages.

You hummed, “You know, there’s another side of that story. One that paints Cassandra as a devout priestess, who had the gift bestowed to her freely. She didn’t ask for it, nor did she consent to it. And it was only after he made his advances, believing that she owed him for this gift she didn’t ask for, that he cursed her in rage of an ego blow.”

The Madam nodded, “And which do you believe? The temptress or the victim?”

“Seeing as most history is written by men, I tend to sympathize with the female viewpoints,” you stated, crossing your arms again.

“What if I told you there’s a third side to this story. One that I believe you have already begun to uncover.”

Your itch turned into a burn as you thickly swallowed.

“Yesterday was the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. Some say it’s the mark of a death and rebirth of the Sun.” Madam turned then to Tommy, who’d been quietly observing during this time. “You’ve had experience with that yourself, haven’t ya, Thomas? You were dead, and now, reborn.”

“What does any of this have to do with why we’re here?” You asked, feeling a sense of protectiveness over Madam’s focus on Tommy.

“Why did you bring him?” She asked you, still looking toward Tommy. “My men told you that I’d meet with you alone.”

“I promised him no more secrets —“

“No,” she cut you off. “You wanted me to reveal your secret for you. But I cannot.”

“Because you don’t know—”

“Because it’s not time!” She shouted, pivoting back toward you quickly. The humor in her eyes had gone now. “You are a traveler, but you don’t belong here. You have been sent to this place, to this time, for a reason. A curse brought you here, but unlike the others, you have a chance to mend ancient mistakes. You have a chance to save lives with your knowledge, with your insight. You must get the right people to listen. Break the cursed chain, end the line of travel.”

Your mouth gaped as Madam Despoina had gone on, but your brain was doing everything to absorb every word, every micro-expression you could make out to understand.

The woman stood from her seat and began her retreat, taking a deep breath before turning back around.

“You will find the answers you seek, so long as you stay true to thyself. Listen to your dreams, your visions, your memories. And above all, know you are stronger than those who came before you — you are stronger than your mother.”

With that, she left the caravan, leaving you and Tommy alone.

You looked over to Tommy, who was staring at you — a look you couldn’t quite make out. You opened your mouth to say something when the caravan door opened.

Johnny Dogs stood at the open end, “We’ve been invited to stay for dinner and to rest for the night. They have a caravan for the two of yous.”

Your brow creased as you looked back to Tommy, “We can’t possibly stay the night here. Not after that —“

“We must,” he replied, his voice as even as it’d been before. “It’ll be an insult if we don’t.”

He stood up, offering you his hand to help you up as well. He pulled you close to him, his voice low enough so even Johnny Dogs couldn’t hear.

“But we leave first thing in the morning. We speak nothing of what happened here tonight. Understood?”

“How can you expect that of me?” You asked genuinely, hoping he didn’t mistake your question for childish disobedience. Your mind was swimming with everything that’d happened in the last few hours. Your eyes sought his, “How can you not have questions for me?”

He exhaled a humored breath before swallowing, pulling your head the inch it needed before his lips brushed against your temple. His hand returned to your back as he whispered into your ear.

“Oh believe me, love, I do. But there will be time for that later. Come on, we can’t keep them waiting.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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[aemondgirlfriend]

INVISIBLE STRINGS (1)

Aemond Targaryen x Twin Sister (OC)

summary: Aemond Targaryen was known as a cold, cruel and frightening prince, but he wasn't like that. Aemond was affectionate, intelligent, obedient and loved his family, but mostly her. Alysanne Targaryen is Aemond's twin sister, but with a different appearance. She had hair like her mother Alicent's, but her eyes were the violet of Old Valyria, the blood of the dragon running through her veins. Aemond Targaryen was cold, cruel and frightening, but not with her. What Alysanne wanted, he did. Because it was always her and always will be.

Rating: Explicit/+18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warning: Violence and explicit NSFW, third-person POV, bad language, angst, fluff, smut (unprotected sex, oral (giving and receiving), use of fingers)

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. This is the first story I've posted on tumblr, so please take it easy on me.

If you want to be tagged in the next chapters let me know!

Word Count: 3.1k

Alysanne run on her small legs to the dragon pit, her nephews and Aegon had said that Aemond was there, and indeed he was, but not in the safe part. She stopped in front of the descent of the pit where the dragons were and tried to control her breathing, as she was panting. The little girl took a deep breath and went down, leaning against a wall and seeing her brother walking to one of the dragons, to Dreamfyre, to be more specific. Alysanne ran to her brother and stopped when the big blue dragon noticed the presence of the twins, she stood up and roared, making Aly grab her brother's arms.

"What are you doing here? It will ruin everything!" he murmured, letting go of her arm "You weren't supposed to come here."

"And you too!" she stamped her foot on the floor. "Mother will kill you."

"If I just get a dragon, it'll be worth it."

Alysanne opened her mouth but nothing came out, she widened her violet eyes and pulled her brother to the ground just as she realized that Dreamfyre was about to burn them both alive. The girl gave a small cry of fright and Aemond threw himself on top of her in an attempt to protect her. One of the pit masters heard the Dragon's roar and swooped down, finding the twins on the ground, their faces smeared with gunpowder. He wet his lips and took the two children out of there, taking their arms and leading them to the Queen who was entertained with Helaena.

"If you'd died, they'd blame us." the guard murmured, letting go of Alysanne's arm and entering the room, Alicent when she saw the state of her son, she got up from the floor and went to him, holding his arms.

"What was your mind? You could have died!"

The queen fumed with concern in her voice, Helaena just shook her head and went back to entertaining herself with the caterpillar that was in her hand. Alysanne tried to hide behind her brother, in an attempt to go unnoticed by her mother. Alicent pushed Aemond aside, seeing a dirty, guilt-ridden Alysanne.

"You guys have been a lot of work lately." Alicent ran her hand over her daughter's hair, smoothing the wavy strands "What were they doing in the pit?"

"I was with Aegon, Lucerys, and Jace training in dragon taming." Aemond said quietly "But... they played a bad joke with me."

"What..."

"They brought me a pig with wings saying it was my dragon." Aemond looked down, sniffling his nose "I didn't want to disobey and go there, but I got upset and..."

"Aemond, you can't keep putting your life on the line just because you don't have a dragon, and neither can you, Alysanne." the girl lowered her gaze. Alicent approached the two and held their chins gently "You're going to have a dragon someday."

"He'll have to lose an eye." - Helaena murmured only to her.

"And you can show them you're worthy of having one." the Queen said firmly, a beautiful smile lit up Alysanne's face, while Aemond was still upset.

Alicent pulled them both into a hug and kissed the tops of their heads, sighing and closing her eyes.

Alysanne clutched her mother's waist as Vaemond Velaryon dictated his words at Laena Velaryon's wake, making it clear that she was of true Velaryon blood. Laena, daughter of Rhaenys and Corlys Velaryon, wife of Daemon Targaryen and mother of Baela and Rhaena, had died trying to give birth to her third child, Daemon had said that she begged Vhagar to kill her, and she did.

Alysanne hated funerals, she couldn't accept that people she cared about suddenly died, and she liked Laena. Aemond turned his eyes towards Rhaenyra and glared at his nephews, the memories of what they had done to him days ago still in his head, he sighed and took his twin sister's hand. Laena's coffin was finally thrown overboard at her home.

The entire family made their way inside the castle, Rhaenyra's children and Daemon's twins standing together, while Alicent's children chatted in a corner. Helaena, as always, played with the little insects, and Alysanne was by her side listening to the curiosities that her sister told about them.

"We should take Alysanne away from Helaena, she'll end up being weird like her." Aegon grumbled, drinking the wine in his cup, taking a pinch from Aemond "Ouch! Why did it?"

"Don't talk about our sisters that way, don't forget that she will be your wife."

Aegon rolled his eyes and grabbed another goblet of wine.

"If I could choose, I wouldn't marry her, not because she's weird, but because I only see her as my sister. This marrying a familiar thing is still weird to me."

It was the first time that Aemond had heard Aegon say something about the incest of the Targaryen house, he also did not agree with that, but if he was ordered to marry one of his relatives, he would do so. Aemond will always do his duty.

"I would marry her if mama let me, Helaena if would make a good wife." Aemond said firmly "But I would also marry Aly."

"She's your twin, don't you think that's weird?"  Aegon asked and Aemond shrugged.

"If her mother and father ever promise her to me, I'll do my duty and be an excellent husband, just as she would be a good wife." his eyes shone when looking at Alysanne, he loved her sister and would make her happy, he was sure of that.

Aegon rolled his eyes and drank all of his wine, moving away to get more. Aemond noticed that his nephews were downcast, probably because of Laena, but also because of Harwin Strong, he had died and the boys could not attend his funeral. Aemond does not talk about it, but he knows that Laenor Velaryon was not the father of the boys, not only he but everyone knew, but the King was keen to deny it with Rhaenyra. He thought about going over to his nephews but just smiled at Jace who smiled back. The prince looked up as soon as he heard a monstrous roar and smiled, his eyes shining, it was Vhagar.

The night had arrived and Aemond couldn't sleep a wink, he got up and went to the bedroom window, watching from afar Vhagar lying on the sand while resting. A dangerous idea had popped into the prince's head, so he slipped out of his room and headed for Alysanne's, waking his sister carefully so she wouldn't startle.

"Aemond?" she rubbed her eye and yawned "What..."

"I will tame Vhagar."

Alysanne widened her eyes and shook her head in denial.

"This is crazy, she's going to kill you!"

"I know all the commands in Valyrian, I might be able to. Please, you need to help me."

The princess swallowed hard and bit her lip nervously, giving up. She rose from her bed and stood in front of Aemond, shaking her head.

"Fine, I'll cover you." Aemond smiled and hugged his sister, kissing her cheek "But promise me you won't leave me."

"I can't promise that."

"Promise!"

Aemond took a deep breath and nodded.

"I promise not leave you."

Alysanne understood and took Aemond's hand, walking with him out of the castle, around the guards. She followed him along the beach, hiding behind a rock so that he wouldn't disturb his brother in his probable conquest. She bit her lip nervously with each step her brother took towards the massive dragon, and bit back a cry when she saw Vhagar lift his head at him. She bit her fingernails nervously and swallowed hard as she saw Vhagar open his mouth to his brother, about to burn him. Her eyes quickly filled with tears at the thought of losing her brother and being at fault for it, but her eyes lit up as she saw her mouth close and her brother raise his hand. He had done it.

Aemond climbed onto Vhagar with a little difficulty due to the dragon's size, and almost fell when she swung the sand from her scales. Alysanne broke into a huge smile as the dragon began to move, and squealed in delight as she flew with Aemond. The prince was overjoyed, he had finally got his dragon, and the biggest and oldest of them all. Tears streamed down the girl's face, happy for her brother, but sad that now she was the only one without one. She dried her tears and ran into the castle again, staying hidden until her brother returned.

Alysanne had dozed off because of the delay, and woke up when she heard screaming. The princess got up quickly and ran when she saw Baela punch her brother, she pulled her cousin by her nightgown and threw her on the ground, being thrown next by Rhaena. She got up and pushed Rhaena, Baela attacked her too, Aemond threw sand in Baela's face and Jace and Luke attacked him. It was all very fast. Alysanne punched Rhaena's face and then regretted it, kneeling beside her cousin and apologizing, Rhaena knew that she had only done that to protect her brother and said that everything was fine. Alysanne heard Luke scream and turned around only to see Aemond holding him by the neck, she ran to her brother but Jace grabbed her arms and stopped her from going to him, Alysanne slapped her face, which made the dagger that was in her pocket of Jace fell to the floor.

She tried to get up but Jace pushed her to the ground again, turning to Aemond who had a rock in his hand.

"You will die like your father did, Strongs."

"Aemond!" she shouted in rebuke.

Aemond realized he had been talking nonsense and lowered his arm, but before he could say anything, Luke grabbed his brother's dagger and slashed at Aemond's face. Alysanne screamed in fright and jumped on top of Lucerys, Baela and Rhaena, scared, tried to pull the girl off the youngest, both knowing that she had done it on impulse. Aemond's screams echoed throughout the pit, drawing in the guards who were unaware of what was happening. Alysanne cried in despair watching the blood run down her face and skin.

Alysanne had her hand laced with Aemond's as the maester finished stitching her face. The prince had traces of blood and tears on his face, and the princess couldn't stop crying, she was scared and feeling guilty, she shouldn't have let him go to Vhagar.

The door to the room slammed open, and Rhaenyra walked past it with Daemon to her children, asking what had happened.

“Her son attacked Aemond. Look at him!” Alicent shouted, squeezing Aemond's hand “Where is the father of your children? Having fun around the castle I believe.”

“Laenor went for a walk as did I.” Rhaenyra explained, everyone knowing she was lying “I didn't see him come back.”

Alicent laughed in disbelief and her lips trembled, looking at her son.

“The eye has been completely lost, my queen.” the maester said, making Alicent cover her mouth in shock, Alysanne started crying again and Aemond closed the only eye he had left.

Viserys finally approached, standing in the middle of the room, looking at everyone.

"I demand to know what happened." he went to Aemond who stared at him with hatred in his eyes “Tell your King what happened.”

Your King, not your father.

“They attacked me in the pit.” Aemond growled.

“Speak loudly”

“They attacked me in the pit.” he shouted “I was returning from the beach and they attacked me, all of them.”

“That's a lie!” Rhaena screamed.

“Baela punched him.” Alysanne got up and shouted too, a discussion between the children was started.

“Enough!” Viserys shouted, making them all fall silent “The reason for the fight, I want to know what it was.”

“Rhaena said Vhagar was rightfully hers, and that's not true.” Alysanne argued “Dragon is not present, you conquer if he lets you, and Vhagar let Aemond climb it.”

"She was my mother's!" Baela took a step forward.

“She is dead!” Aly shouted, making Rhaenys squint her eyes “Vhagar wasn't hers, it was Visenya's and even so she managed. Vhagar was knightless and Aemond claimed her.”

"My son lost an eye because of this?" Alicent whispered.

“He insulted us.” Jace broke the silence “He called us bastards.”

Aemond smirked and Alysanne glared at him. Rhaenyra swallowed and squeezed her children's hands.

“I demand that Prince Aemond be questioned on such charges, my King. Father.” Rhaenyra demanded, everyone knew what kind of question she was suggesting.

"Over an insult?" - Alicent said in disbelief “My son lost an eye!”

Viserys narrowed his eyes in annoyance and gripped Aemond's chin tightly, causing him to glare.

“Who made such accusations to you, Aemond” silence. Alicent swallowed hard, her breathing uneven. “Answer me!” he screamed.

“It was me.” Alysanne placed herself in front of Aemond. Alicent stared at her daughter, Aegon, Helaena and Aemond looking shocked at their sister “I called them bastards first, Aemond just repeated. Punish me, not him.”

Viserys sighed and looked down, he wouldn't fight his daughter, his girl, but that for him was unacceptable.

“Why?” He asked.

The girl looked up and stared at Rhaenyra's children, her gaze moving to her older sister next.

“Just look at them” she whispered “No Velaryon or Targaryen have hair so dark.”

“You have!” Jace yelled.

“My eyes at least are like Valyria's.” Alysanne snapped “You have nothing but Rhaenyra's blood.”

The room was completely silent, everyone shocked by the audacity of the princess who only had twelve days of her name.

“If anyone here or anywhere questions the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children, they will have their tongues ripped out.” he looked at Alysanne “This matter ends here.”

Alicent looked at her son, a tear running down her cheek as she saw the stitching in his eye and the frightened look in his eyes.

“That's not enough.” she snapped “He is your son, Viserys. Your blood.”

"What do you want me to do, wife?"

Alicent stared at him, another tear streaming down her cheek.

“There is a debt to be pay.”

Viserys looked startled at his wife and Rhaenyra tucked Lucerys behind her, protecting him.

“Sir Criston.” she glared at her guard her Criston Cole “bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.”

Everyone was shocked by the queen's order, even Aemond and his brothers. Lucerys clutched the skirt of his mother's dress in alarm. Alysanne felt her head spin and leaned back against the chair where her brother was sitting. He looked at the girl worriedly, and at the same time Alicent took Viserys's dagger and went to Rhaenyra's direction. Alysanne fainted, the maester catching her body before she hit the floor, chaos ensuing in the room.

As Aegon knelt beside his sister, Aemond went to his mother who had turned away from Rhaenyra, slitting her wrist. He claimed to everyone that everything was fine, as he had lost his eye but gained a dragon.

That night everything changed. Aemond no longer spoke to his nephews and cousins, as well as his brothers. He was crying and in pain and not sleeping, not wanting anyone near him but Alysanne. Every day the girl wiped her face with the maester, she was always there with him. She read to him, stole lemon pie from the kitchen for him, studied Valyrian and about Valyrian with him. She did everything with him.

And it was like that over the years. Today, Aemond and Alysanne are nineteen years old, and nothing between them has changed beyond their coming of age. The prince now knew how to deal with the lack of an eyeball and the whispers about his disability, even if it bothered him, he learned to deal with it. He fought and studied, he was a competent, strong and intelligent prince, he was one of the best swordsmen in Kingslanding, always winning in training. Alysanne, on the other hand, accompanied her mother and sister. She did embroidery, tried on dresses and rejected marriage proposals. Her life was boring, that's what she thought. She wanted to be like Aemond, she wanted to learn to use a sword, she wanted to learn to fight, but she was never allowed to. That's why Aemond gave her secret lessons, teaching her how to handle a sword and how to defend herself, he knew he shouldn't be doing this, but it was what she wanted, and what Alysanne wanted Aemond to do.

"Who was it?" Aemond entered his sister's room and kissed her forehead, laughing when he saw her sulking face.

“A Lord Tully. Seriously, he must be in his sixties.” she crossed her arms and a pout formed on her lips “I don't want to get married.”

“You don't have much of a choice, ñuha zaldrīzes. (my dragon)” he said putting a brown lock of her hair behind her ear “just like I don't have either.”

"But at least your suitors are pretty, the only handsome one who wanted to marry me was Cregan Stark." Aemond rolled his eye “Don't roll your eyes, he's really handsome.”

“Whatever.” he grumbled “Just keep stalling and denying it, it's better that way.”

Alysanne huffed and slouched back in the chair, her hair and dress becoming untidy, drawing a smile from Aemond.

"Getting pointy isn't going to change anything."

“Why don't you go take a walk in?” she muttered angrily “I want out, Aemond. I'm supposed to be going after Cannibal, not sitting here embroidering and reading letters from disgusting old men.”

Aemond smiled weakly and took his sister's hand, kissing her fingers and stroking her hand with his thumb.

“Someday you'll be able to claim Cannibal, you just need patience. If I could tame Vhagar, so can you.” he got up and kissed her forehead, messing up her hair even more “Get ready, mom is calling for dinner.”

Alysanne snorted and continued in the same position, hugging the pillow that was in her lap.

"Or I could send a raven to Lord Tully and have him come here to fetch you to dinner, that would be interesting, don't you think?"

The princess took the pillow and threw it towards her brother who quickly closed the door while laughing, her smile soon faded when she saw two servants staring at him. He walked past them and scowled again. It was always like this. While he was alone or with other people, Aemond was closed off and fearful. But when he was with his sister it seemed like his life lit up as the smile never left his face.

Because it was always her.

[kmomof4]

A Scoundrel… Or a Gentleman?

Ohhhhhh, I’m so happy to FINALLY be posting this fic!!! Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton’s story, When He Was Wicked, I wrote the prologue - 8k words - last September, then took a six month break before sitting down and getting the rest of the thing written. I so hope I did the story justice and that you enjoy and let me know what you think!!

And now thanks to whom thanks are due!!! @jrob64 is a LITERAL SAINT for everything she did to make this fic better. She is an outstanding beta and a dear friend, but I seriously tried her patience going back over and back over and back over AGAIN trying to make this just right. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, my friend, for EVERYTHING!!!

To @hollyethecurious for all the historical info that she shared with me and asking the questions that needed to be asked and answered before the fic was ready for posting. Her support was absolutely invaluable. Thank you, babe!!!

To @motherkatereloyshipper for her work on the Prologue artwork shown below. It is soooo beautiful, I could stare at it for hours!!! Thank you so much, darlin!!! Please give her lots of love!!!

The fic is complete with a total of 9chs. I’ll be updating twice a week- Wednesdays and Saturdays.

Summary: Killian Jones has been in love with Emma Nolan since the day he met her - the day before she married his brother Earl Liam Jones. That was six years ago, and Liam has been gone now for four years. Emma and Killian have both arrived in London for the season - her to seek a husband so she can hopefully bear children, him to finally take up his duties as the earl, including finding a wife. Will they succeed in their respective desires?

*spoiler alert- of course they will. It’ll just take them a little while to get there…*

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Words: almost 8400 words of approx 59,5k

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton’s Story, Smut in Later Chapters

On ao3 if that’s your preference.

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@Jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @bluewildcatfanatic

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Prologue

There is a moment in every man’s life in which his future becomes clear. A turning point of sorts. The moment when he becomes a man, when he leaves the irresponsibility and temerity of youth behind and turns his eyes to the future. A future that he’d never bothered to think about before. Unfortunately, that moment came for Killian Jones when he first laid eyes on Emma Nolan at a supper celebrating the imminent marriage between herself and Killian’s brother, Earl Liam Jones.

After years of chasing anything in a skirt, Killian grimaced at the irony. In all that time, he’d never allowed his heart to become entangled with his many, many romantic exploits. Allowing himself to be chased until he conquered, his reputation as a rake and a scoundrel was well deserved. He’d even stopped attending church, although he assuaged the pricking of his conscience by telling himself the derelict stones of Kilmartin Abbey on the Kilmartin estate up in Scotland… no originality among his ancestors there, who were so proud of the title when it was newly bestowed about 300 years ago, they attached it to everything they possibly could... Anyway, the Abbey couldn’t withstand a direct strike of lightning, which would surely happen if Killian Jones ever showed his face inside. 

Killian Jones

Worst of Sinners

He would have had it printed on calling cards if he didn’t think it would actually kill his mother. The only semblance of honor he’d maintained in his heart over all these years was the fact that the only times he’d slept with married women was if their husbands were tossers, and they’d produced at least two male offspring. Three, if one was sickly. He’d also never seduced a virgin, but even that wasn’t enough to redeem him now. Because this was the one thing that truly blackened his soul beyond all redemption. 

He coveted his brother’s wife. 

And had since that fateful moment two years ago. The day he met Emma Nolan. Now Emma Nolan Jones. Lady Kilmartin. Countess Kilmartin. Wife of his brother, the Earl of Kilmartin.

He could torture himself for days, thinking of every iteration of Emma Nolan Jones, but it would never change the simple fact. He couldn’t have her. She’d never be his.

Now, looking around the room where he, Emma, and Liam were enjoying some after-dinner conversation, he had to rise and cross the room to the decanter, pouring himself a drink to avoid the thoroughly besotted eyes Liam and Emma were making at each other.

“What shall we do for our second anniversary?” Emma asked, sitting down at the pianoforte, her long delicate fingers tickling the keys. Killian swallowed a low groan.

“Anything you want, darling,” Liam answered. He smiled gently at his wife as he opened the evening edition of the Times. She turned her attention to Killian.

“What do you think?”

“About what?” he asked, turning to her, a charming, lopsided smile on his face. No one took him seriously when he smiled like that, which was exactly the point. She pressed her lips into a thin line and Killian relented slightly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening.”

“What should we do for our anniversary?”

If she’d thrust her own hand into his chest and squeezed his heart to dust, it probably would have hurt less. He shrugged indifferently. He was, after all, an expert at hiding what he really felt.

“It’s not my anniversary.”

Emma rolled her eyes, the corner of her lips lifting in amusement. It probably wasn’t a good thing that Killian spent far too much time studying the lips of his brother’s wife.

“I’m aware,” she huffed. “I was asking if you had any ideas for us.”

Killian lifted one brow quizzically. “Why would you ask me, when I have absolutely no experience in the realm of marriage or the anniversary celebration of such?”

The amusement left her face and was replaced with irritation and no small amount of sympathy. Emma rose and moved toward him.

Oh, God, he thought. Please no. There’s nothing worse than when she…

She placed her hand on his arm.

“You won’t always be unmarried, you know,” she said gently.

She shouldn’t be touching him. She couldn’t be touching him. His next words were with the singular purpose of getting her away from him.

“Am I to become your project then?” he bit out. “‘Killian can’t possibly be happy living his life of debauchery and aimlessness, so I must see him married,’” he mocked. “I am not interested in marriage, thank you very much.” 

She removed her hand from his arm and backed up, her brow furrowed, her mouth a small o of hurt. Thank heaven, it bloody worked, he thought, even as the guilt surged.

“We care about you, Killian, and we want to see you happy.”

And there it was. We. Not I. We. They were a unit. Liam and Emma. Lord and Lady Kilmartin. She may not have meant it that way, but that was what he heard. As if he’d ever forget it.

“I care about you, too.” His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper and he shot pleading eyes toward his brother who finally gave up all pretense of reading.

“Emma,” he chastised lightly. “Killian is a grown man. Let him find his happiness when he’s ready. In his own time.”

Emma shot her husband a disgruntled look. Killian had to bite back a bark laugh. He knew Emma almost as well as he knew his brother, and he recognized the root of her irritation was at being thwarted in her attempt to arrange the people in her life to her satisfaction. Liam smirked at him and picked his paper back up as she returned to the pianoforte and sat down, her visage contemplative. It suddenly lit up and Killian’s heart rate increased with it. 

“I should introduce you to…”

“Emma.” It was only a single word, but Liam’s voice held a note of reprimand in it. Leave him alone.

Emma deflated and Killian could have kissed his brother. He may have only thought he was saving Killian from Emma’s nagging, but if he had to suffer the woman he was in love with trying to find him a match - a match he was wholly uninterested in - it might be the final straw of his sanity. Truly. 

“We should all go for a walk,” she said suddenly. Killian looked out the windows where darkness had finally descended over London.

“Isn’t it a little late?” he asked.

“Not with two strong escorts,” she cheeked.

“I’ve an appointment in an hour,” Liam said. He winced and rubbed his temple. “And I’ve got a headache. I think I’ll lay down for a bit before leaving.” He looked at Killian then. “But you should go.”

Absolute proof that Liam hadn’t a clue about his brother’s true feelings for Emma.

“Parliament?” Emma asked. Liam nodded and rose. “Do you want me to wake you when we return?”

“I’ll ask my valet to do it, darling,” he said, dropping a gentle kiss to her lips. Killian averted his eyes. He’d never begrudge his brother and his beloved their happiness, but he certainly wasn’t going to watch them bask in the clear love between them. 

“I’ll just be a moment,” Emma assured him once Liam left, a soft smile on her face, her forest green eyes glowing. Perhaps it should disturb him how certain he was of the color of Emma’s eyes when she wasn’t even in the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He dreamed in shades of green these days. Emma green, the color should be called. He poured himself another drink and slammed it back, trying to steel himself for their impending constitutional. 

He knew he shouldn’t be accompanying her. He knew he shouldn’t ever be alone with her. But when she smiled, he was helpless to resist her. It may leave him wracked with equal parts guilt and desire later, but he couldn’t deny himself any amount of time in her presence. Because that’s all there would ever be. He’d never act upon his desires. Never betray his brother in that way or sully Emma’s reputation. There’d never be a kiss, meaningful glances or touches, whispered words of love and affection, or moans of passion. 

All he’d ever have was her friendship, her smile, and her company. And besotted fool that he was, he’d be happy with it.

She came back down wrapped in a soft yellow cloak and he held his elbow out for her to take. Resigned to his fate, he escorted the love of his life out of the house and to the street below. Lucky him.

~*~*~

As Emma and Killian walked along the street, Emma couldn’t help but think what a dear man her brother-in-law was. Oh, he’d be certain to scoff and list all the reasons his soul was as black as they came (none of which, she was afraid, were exaggerated) if she expressed those sentiments out loud, but she knew him nearly as well as she knew her husband, and Killian Jones possessed a heart of honor and had a capacity to love that was unequaled among the men of her acquaintance. And if she didn’t find him a wife soon, she’d go mad.

“Killian,” she began, turning to look at him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupted. “Didn’t Liam just suggest that you let me find my happiness in my own time?”

Emma’s jaw dropped in shock. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

“You’re a bit of an open book, my dear,” he said, looking at her and booping her on the nose. Emma huffed indignantly as they continued their walk.

It was funny. When she met Liam, she fell head over heels in love more quickly than she ever imagined possible. He understood her in a way that she’d never experienced before. Of course, she loved her family immensely, but as the youngest of six siblings, she often felt lost in the shuffle. Killian was the only sibling Liam had, and removing herself from the hubbub of London and her large family felt like a breath of fresh air. Not to mention the actual fresh air of Scotland, her new home.

But then there was Killian. She hadn’t met him until the day before her nuptials to Liam, since he’d just recently returned home from the Napoleonic Wars on the continent. He was handsome, to be sure, but there was an undeniable connection between them that she felt from the moment she met him. If Liam understood her the way no one ever had before - the opposite side of the same coin - then Killian was like a puzzle piece that fit her perfectly. A puzzle piece she never knew she was missing. He completed her. Besides Liam, Killian was her very best friend and that was why she wanted him to be as happy as she was. And the only way that was going to happen was if she found him a wife who’d make him as happy as Liam made her.

“Finding me a wife is not among your duties, Lady Kilmartin,” Killian spoke again, drawing her from her musings.

She huffed again. “Well, it should be.”

He laughed, which delighted her immensely. She could always make him laugh.

“Very well, then,” she said, dropping the subject for now. “Tell me something wicked. Something that Liam wouldn’t approve of.” Her lips lifted in a conspiratorial smirk that he returned in kind. It was a game they played, that spoke again to how Killain somehow completed her. As much as she loved her husband, hearing about Killian’s exploits was always immensely entertaining. And she knew Liam enjoyed hearing about them, too, even if he gave a token admonishment whenever he was also present. Killian never shared too much, he had too much discretion for that, but he’d share hints and innuendos that never failed to amuse her greatly.

“Alas, I’m afraid I’ve done nothing wicked this week,” he said with a sigh.

“You?” she asked, incredulous. “I find that very difficult to believe.”

“It’s only Tuesday, my dear,” he reminded her.

“I’m aware,” she shot back, “but aside from Sunday, which I’m sure you’d leave sacred…” She shot him a look that belied her words completely, earning her another laugh, “that would leave Monday, and a man can get up to quite a bit of mischief on a Monday.”

“Not this man,” he assured her. “Not this Monday.”

“What did you do then?”

He was quiet for a moment as they continued walking. 

“Nothing, really.” 

There was a tone of melancholy blanketing his words and Emma stopped and turned to him. His blue eyes shone under the street lamps and Emma was shocked at the intensity she found there. A moment later it was gone and the thought occurred to Emma that Killian Jones perhaps wasn’t really the man he wished others to believe him to be. Even her.

She squeezed his arm gently. “We must find you something,” she whispered into the night.

He held her gaze a moment longer then he looked up.

“We must return. Liam will have my head if you catch a chill.”

“Liam will blame me for my foolishness of insisting on a walk after dark, and well you know it. This is just your way of saying you have a woman waiting for you, probably wearing nothing but a sheet.”

He smirked. A devil-may-care grin that made Emma roll her eyes and recall why the female half of the ton fancied themselves in love with him, even without the title.

“Don’t be jealous, my dear,” he said, the teasing clear in his voice, making Emma roll her eyes again.

“As if I ever could be,” she scoffed.

He stopped and faced her, the way his black hair flopped over his brow making her long to brush it back. The intense look was back in his crystal blue eyes and Emma had trouble drawing a deep breath.

“I know.” His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. “It’s the only reason I tease you.” He reached up and lightly ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “You’re the only woman I know who would never stray. I can’t tell you how much I admire you for that.”

“I love your brother. I could never betray him.”

“I know that, too.” His hand returned to his side. He was so handsome and so in need of love, Emma felt her heart would break. If only he’d let someone, anyone, into his heart. If anyone would care enough to look beneath the handsome, yet devilish facade, they’d find the man she knew- kindhearted, loyal, and true.

They continued toward Kilmartin House and Emma took a deep breath. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight. I was just feeling so closed in, claustrophobic almost. The fresh air did me quite a bit of good.”

“Then I’m happy to have been of service, milady,” he said as they climbed the steps to the front door of Kilmartin House. The door opened, the butler obviously looking out for them, and Emma undid and handed him her cloak and gloves.

“Will you stay or must you go?” she asked Killian. She could just see Liam’s valet coming down the stairs out of the corner of her eye.

Killian checked his pocket watch. “I’ll wait for Liam, if he hasn’t left yet. I came on foot, so I might as well avail myself of his carriage after he’s done with it.”

Emma nodded and turned to the valet. 

“Has his Lordship left yet?”

“No, my lady. I’ve rapped on his door, but he must be sleeping quite soundly. Do you still want me to wake him?”

Emma sighed. As much as she wished he could sleep longer, she knew how important this meeting was.

“No need,” she assured the man. “I’ll wake him myself. Thank you.” She nodded at him and Killian and hurried up the stairs.

Moments later, Emma’s scream pierced the night.

~*~*~

Killian had no memory of taking the stairs three at a time to rush to Liam’s bedchamber, one of two thresholds in the house he’d never breached. He suddenly found himself there, staring at the bed on the other side of the room, barely conscious of Emma screaming from where she sat on the edge of the bed as she shook the shoulders of his unnaturally pale and still brother.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Whoever that was lying on the bed, it wasn’t his brother. His brother was gone. He’d seen death in battle, but death wouldn’t dare come for Liam. Liam. Who was so strong. So steady. The pillar of their family. The one they all relied on. The picture of good health. 

He took a laborious step forward.

“Emma.” His voice was hoarse, strangled, and unsurprisingly Emma made no indication that she’d heard him, her screams continuing unabated. When she finally stopped to take a breath, her face turned to him.

She rose, her movements so slow and graceful, her face nearly as pale as Liam’s, Killian could have mistaken her for a ghost. She glided toward him and as she got closer, he could see the splotches of color high on her cheekbones, the sunkenness and redness of her eyes, the tear tracks down her cheeks. She grabbed his hand, her grip so tight her knuckles were white.

“Wake him up, Killian,” she begged, more tears spilling from her eyes. He met her gaze, knowing the same devastation she wore on her visage was reflected back to her on his own. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her in tightly, automatically, like some kind of machine. She grabbed the lapels of the coat he wore and buried her face in his chest, moaning like a wounded animal. “It was just a headache.” Her tears soaked his shirt. “It was just a headache. How could this happen? I don’t understand!” 

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t offer her any sort of comfort beyond holding her as he was now because he didn’t understand either. Between Eton, Cambridge, and the Royal Navy, he’d been trained for everything the life of a gentleman had to offer. But he’d never been trained for this.

She pulled back suddenly, the cry falling from her lips coming from the depths of her soul. 

“WHYYYYYYYY??!!”

Just as suddenly as she pulled back from him, she collapsed in his arms, bringing them both to the floor. He stared, unseeing, at the far wall, wondering why he wasn’t crying. He was numb and his body felt heavy, like his very soul had been crushed. Killian’s internal cry echoed Emma’s.

Why?

~*~*~

“Could she be with child?” 

Killian sat behind Liam’s desk, and blinked at the question posed to him by Lord Isaac, a short and thin man who rather reminded Killian of a rat. The representative of the Committee for Privileges of the House of Lords had a self-important air about him that grated on Killian’s nerves. Liam hadn’t been gone - he still couldn’t bring himself to say or even think the truth - twenty-four hours and here was this bastard, demanding an audience and droning on about some sacred duty to the crown. He turned his attention back to Lord Isaac, his brow furrowed.

“What did you say?”

“Her ladyship,” he repeated, enunciating each syllable carefully, as if Killian had no idea of whom he spoke. “If she’s carrying, it will make things… difficult.”

“I don’t know,” he said, enunciating his own words just as carefully. He couldn’t believe he was hearing this right now. “I haven’t asked her.”

“You need to.” The man sniffed indignantly. “I’m sure you’re eager to assume control of your new holdings, but before you can do that, we must determine if she’s carrying. Furthermore, if she is, a member of our committee will need to be present at the birth.”

Killian was stunned. There was no other word for it. “I beg your pardon?” He was amazed he was able to get the words out.

“Baby switching,” Lord Isaac said grimly, with all seriousness. “There have been instances…”

“For God’s sake…” Killian interrupted, scrubbing his hand down his face.

“It’s for your own protection as much as anyone’s,” Lord Isaac assured him. “If she were to give birth to a girl, and no one is there to witness it, what’s to stop her from switching the babe with a boy?”

Killian couldn’t bring himself to dignify that with any kind of response.

“You need to find out if she’s carrying,” Lord Isaac insisted. “Arrangements will have to be made.”

“She was widowed yesterday,” Killian bit out. “I will not burden her with such intrusive questions.”

“There is more at stake here than her ladyship’s feelings,” Lord Isaac continued, haughtily. “We cannot properly transfer the earldom while there is doubt as to the succession.”

“The devil take the earldom,” Killian snapped.

Lord Isaac drew back in visible horror. “You forget yourself, my Lord.”

“I am not your lord,” Killian growled. “I’m not anyone’s…” He stopped suddenly, realizing almost too late that he was perilously close to tears. He glared at the man in front of him, trying to stave them off. This little weasel, who didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t just an Earl who had died, but a man. 

His brother.

He expected that as soon as the abhorrent little rodent left, the door was locked behind him, and Killian was sure no one would observe him, the tears would finally come. 

“Someone has to ask her,” Lord Isaac said.

“It won’t be me,” Killian murmured.

“Then I will.”

Killian could take it no longer and was out of the chair like a shot, grabbing Isaac by the lapels of his jacket, pushing him against the wall before the man could even blink.

“You will not approach Lady Kilmartin,” he growled, menacingly. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the damnable man choked out. Killian realized he was turning an alarming shade of purple, so he stepped back, releasing him.

“Get out.”

“You’ll need to…”

“Get out!” Killian roared.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, when you’re in a more calm frame of mind.” The man left quickly with as much dignity as he could muster and Killian closed the door firmly behind him, turning the lock before he returned to the desk.

He dropped his head into his hands and a single tear finally spilled over and tracked down his face. His chest was tight and his throat felt so narrow, it was a wonder he could breathe at all. A gasping sob escaped him and the dam broke. Killian’s anguish poured from him in a seemingly endless tide, the tears streaming down his face, soaking the loosened cravat he wore and the shirt underneath.

How had it come to this? Yes, as long as Liam and Emma had remained childless, he was second in line to the earldom. But no one seriously expected him to inherit. Liam was barely thirty and the picture of health. 

Word had already reached him that men at the club were calling Killian the luckiest man in Britain. What no one realized was that he’d never wanted this. He’d never wanted the earldom. He wanted his brother. 

And no one seemed to understand that.

Except Emma. Her devastation equaled his own, he knew. 

They’d put her to bed last night, him and her mother, Ruth, who’d arrived quickly after his urgent summons, and she’d slept soundly all night, too worn out from the shock of it all. Killian knew, because he’d spent the night opposite the large bed where Emma slept, in one of the chairs where he imagined Liam and Emma taking their morning coffee before starting their days. He couldn’t bear to leave her or be alone with his own thoughts.

When she woke this morning, he could see the moment she remembered the events of the night before. Her eyes landed on him and he saw a moment of alarm, surprise, confusion, and then finally realization. He stood on shaky legs as her eyes filled with tears. They only lasted a moment, however. He watched as a firm resolve took over her gaze, her movements choppy and stilted as she swiped away the evidence of her anguish.

He grudgingly admired her for that and stood before her helpless to do anything useful. What were they to do? Neither of them was prepared for this. They were young, happy, carefree. They’d never dealt with death before and all the myriad details involved with it.

Who would have guessed the Committee for Privileges would get involved? And demand a front row seat to an event that should be a private moment for Emma. If indeed she was with child. Which he was not going to ask her.

“We must inform Alice,” she said.

“Of course,” he murmured. Why he hadn’t thought of that, he’d never know. Their mother would be equally devastated.

“I’ll write the note.” 

Killian could only nod, wondering what he was supposed to do. The answer became apparent when Lord Isaac arrived. But he couldn’t think about that now, all that he stood to gain since Liam was gone. There was nothing good about Liam being gone. And if anyone dared to offer him congratulations…

His tears spent, Killian lifted his head and stared sightlessly out the window. He hadn’t wanted this. Had he?

He only wanted Emma. But not like this. Not at this cost.

He’d never coveted Liam’s title. The money or power.

He’d only ever coveted Liam’s wife.

And now he stood to gain everything that had been Liam’s. Except his wife. Guilt wrapped itself around his heart and threatened to strangle him. 

He didn’t want this. He’d never wanted this.

“Killian?” Her soft knock and voice drew his attention to the door. The locked door. He rose and moved toward it, making no effort to hide his grief. He unlocked and opened the door and she stood there, as thin but strong as a young birch tree, her face pale, her green eyes round as saucers and beyond exhausted.

“I’ve sent a note to your mother,” she murmured. “Is there anyone else…”

Killian shook his head slowly. He knew he should say something to her, but his mind just refused to give him anything. He was too broken, too grief stricken. Just like the woman in front of him.

He gently took her elbow. “You should sit down. You look exhausted.”

Emma shook her head, even as she allowed him to lead her into the room and toward a chair. 

“I can’t,” she murmured. “I can’t stop. If I do…” She shook her head. “If I don’t stop, I don’t have to think. And if I don’t have to think…” she trailed away and her eyes filled with tears again. It didn’t matter. He understood perfectly.

Then she turned her eyes upon him and her mouth opened like she had something to say. He steeled himself against the despair in her eyes.

“I’m pregnant.”

~*~*~

Seemingly overnight, Kilmartin House in London changed. 

First, Alice Jones arrived from Scotland. 

Second, Emma’s own mother, Ruth Nolan was a much more frequent guest than she’d been when Liam was alive. 

Third, Killian was a much less frequent guest than when Liam was alive. 

And Emma wasn’t sure she’d survive that last one.

Of course, it was a comfort to see her mother-in-law. They got along well and Emma loved her. And she’d known the grief of losing her husband. But now she’d lost her son, and in many ways was in as much need of comfort as Emma herself.

And of course her own mother was also a comforting presence, having also been widowed young, but Killian was the one she needed. Killian was the one who knew and loved Liam best, besides herself of course, and Killian was the one who most understood what she was going through.

He still came to visit occasionally, but when he did, he didn’t feel there. Not like he was when Liam was alive. His eyes were distant and he didn’t come anywhere near her, beyond what propriety demanded when greeting her or taking his leave - a formal bow, a slight brush of her knuckles with his lips, murmured words she could barely hear. He wasn’t the same.

And it was killing her.

But, she reminded herself, he was hurting, too. 

She reminded herself of it when she didn’t know what to say to him. She reminded herself of it when he didn’t tease her. She reminded herself of it when they sat together in the parlor and neither had anything to say.

She’d lost her husband. And she’d lost her best friend at the same time.

She was lonely. And so sad. Why had no one told her how sad she’d be? But would she have believed them? Of course not. There was no understanding this kind of grief without experiencing it for herself. 

Killian was the one link to the husband she’d lost - who’d loved him as she did - and she hated him for being here, but not being here. To walk beside her in their mutual grief. So they could be a comfort to each other.

It never occurred to her that in losing Liam, she might lose Killian, too.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Alice’s gentle question drew Emma from her musings. She blinked, momentarily unable to really comprehend the question, much less answer it.

“Uh, fine,” she said after a moment, with a slight shake of her head. The soft smile on the face of her mother-in-law, coupled with the joyful sadness in her eyes, prompted a small smile from herself as well. It brought home the fact that while Alice had lost her first born, the fact that Emma was carrying a piece of him brought a measure of peace to her grieving heart. “No different than I ever have.”

Alice sat down across from her and folded her hands in her lap. “It’s remarkable. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“If it wasn’t for my missing courses, I’d never know anything was different.” And it was true. She’d been around enough pregnant women to know what to expect in the early weeks and months, and the only thing she was experiencing that might be a symptom of early pregnancy was that she was a bit more tired. But, of course, that could be the grieving as well. Her mother had told her she’d been tired for a year after her father passed. Emma experienced none of the expected quirks and illnesses other women had told her about.

She’d be happy to be losing what little breakfast she was actually eating each morning, if only so she could imagine the little one waving, hello, I’m here!

“I wonder if Killian will be visiting today?” Alice mused.

“He hasn’t been here in three days,” Emma murmured, “So I expect he will.” She’d never admit to counting the days between his visits, but she had been, and he was due for his bi-weekly visit.

“He’s grieving Liam,” Alice said softly.

“So am I.” Her voice was a bit sharper than she’d have liked. “So are you.”

“But it’s different for him,” she continued. “He’s a bit in limbo until you deliver. And that’s still six months away.”

“Well, I can’t do anything about that.”

“Of course not,” she replied. “I just hope that he begins thinking about the future soon. If you do deliver a girl, he’ll have to marry and produce an heir.”

Emma scoffed. “Killian will do what has to be done, but he’d never marry while he’s still grieving Liam and it’d be dreadfully unfair to expect him to.”

“Of course,” Alice agreed. “I just so want him to be happy. Even with Liam gone.” She sighed forlornly.

It was odd. Emma wanted Killian to be happy, too, but imagining him married was rather hard to picture. Of course, it hadn’t stopped her from trying to push Killian in that direction. But if she was really honest with herself, he just didn’t seem the type. For years, she’d had Liam and Killian had been their rather constant companion. Could she be happy for him if he found love and happiness and she remained alone? Was her heart big enough?

She was tired and feeling a bit weak as well. She stood, grasping the arm of the chair when a sudden wave of dizziness came over her. 

“I think I’ll lay down for a nap,” she said. “Wake me when Killian comes, if you please.”

“Of course, my dear. That’s a very good idea. You need your rest.” A sudden gasp escaped Alice and Emma saw that she wasn’t looking at her, but at the seat she just rose from. 

There in the middle of the cushion was a small patch of red.

Blood.

~*~*~

Killian stared at the almost full bottle of rum sitting on his desk. His life would have been much more bearable if that amount of alcohol was enough to get him drunk. But unfortunately, Killian was blessed with quite a robust constitution and could hold his liquor with aplomb and grace. 

He glanced outside the window to see it was still some hours from sunset. Also unfortunately, he couldn’t make himself override the good manners and etiquette Alice had instilled in him from the time he was a small boy that refused to let him get bosky before the sun set. 

He tapped his fingers against the desk and wondered what he ought to do with himself. Liam had been gone for nearly two months now, and he hadn’t yet brought himself to move into Kilmartin House, still living in his modest apartments a few blocks away. According to Lord Isaac, whose lectures he was eventually forced to endure, the title would go into abeyance until Emma delivered. And if she gave birth to a girl, then the title and everything with it would be his. But given that that event was still six months away, Killian felt he could get away with not taking up residence in the earl’s house. He told himself he didn’t want to move in only to have to move out again in six months.

But the truth was something else entirely. He wasn’t sure he could survive living under the same roof as Emma. 

She was still living in the house. She was still the Countess of Kilmartin. And would be until she gave birth to a girl and he married. Which he was absolutely not inclined to do.

Because even if he did end up as the earl, Emma wouldn’t be his countess, and that knowledge was enough to make him seriously think about damning etiquette to hell and downing that entire bottle of rum between now and sunset.

He would have thought his grief would have overtaken the longing in his heart for Emma, that he could be near her and not want her so much he could barely breathe. But no. His heart still ached with the pain of loving her. Even being in the same room with her caused his breath to hitch and his heart to race. 

And now, all that longing was intertwined with a suffocating guilt. As if there hadn’t been enough of that when Liam was alive. 

Emma was in pain. Grieving. And he should be there comforting her. Who could better do so? No one had known Liam better than he did. The two people who knew and loved him best should be comforting one another in their loss. But no, instead of comforting her, he was lusting after her. What kind of bastard lusted after his sister-in-law, his pregnant sister-in-law, when his brother wasn’t even cold in his grave?

Him, apparently. 

And so he stayed away. Not completely. He couldn’t get away with that, not with his mother in residence at Kilmartin House. In addition, although the title wasn’t potentially to be his for another six months, everyone was looking to him to manage the affairs of the earl. 

It was the least he could do. For Liam. For Emma.

He may not be able to be her friend at the moment, but he could make sure her finances were in order.

She didn’t understand. And he knew she didn’t. She’d often come to visit him when he was working in the study of Kilmartin House - going over various solicitor’s and land steward’s reports - looking for their previous camaraderie, he knew, but which he was unable to give. Not yet.

“My lord?”

Killian looked up at the door to see his valet, Smee, and a footman wearing the unmistakable green and gold livery of Kilmartin house.

“A message from your mother,” the man said, approaching with an envelope in his outstretched hand. “She said it was urgent.”

His brows rose on his head. Urgent? That was new. His mother had sent him nearly daily missives, or it seemed like it anyway, but they were never more than just prattling on about the doings at Kilmartin House. She was likely just trying to keep herself busy.

Once Smee and the footman left the room, he opened the letter.

Come quickly, it said. Emma has lost the baby.

~*~*~

Killian himself was nearly killed several times, not to mention the numerous pedestrians who were in his way, as he raced on horseback to Kilmartin House.

But now he stood here in the foyer, holding his crying mother, and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

A miscarriage they called it. It seemed like such a small word for such a profound happening. And why had they called him? This was the province of women and doctors. Of which, he was neither. What could he possibly do?

But then it hit him. He was the earl.

Slowly but surely over the last two months, Killian had been stepping into Liam’s shoes. And now that process was complete. The final nail in the coffin, so to speak. 

It took nary a thought to murmur comforting nonsense to his mother as he led her to the downstairs parlor, her sobs abating. 

“It’s like losing Liam all over again,” she whispered.

“I know,” he agreed. And he did. While Emma had been pregnant, a small piece of Liam still existed on this earth. And while he wasn’t yet prepared to step fully into Liam’s shoes, by the time she delivered, he would have been, and he would have done everything duty demanded. For Liam, his child, for Emma.

But he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t. Not yet.

That last fragile link to Liam was snapped and he was right back where he was two months ago.

“How is she?” he asked.

“In shock,” she answered quietly. “She’s been crying. She can’t seem to stop. She asked for you.”

Killian’s head snapped toward his mother.

“Me? Why?”

Alice’s face was surprised. “She wanted you.”

“But… I can’t…” he stammered.

“Yes, you can.” His mother looked confused at his refusal. “You have to,” she insisted.

Killian shook his head vehemently, his hands starting to tremble. “I can’t go in there.”

“You can’t abandon her!”

“I’m not! I didn’t!” he cried, the grief breaking free. “Liam abandoned her! Liam abandoned me!” he shouted. His voice shocked him. He sounded like a wounded animal - pained, panicked, confused. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “She was never mine to abandon!”

“Killian George Alaster Jones!” his mother cried, shocked. “How can you say such a thing?”

“Mother,” he all but moaned. “She needs a woman. What can I do?”

“You can be her friend,” she said softly.

“No. I can’t. Not yet.” The anguish on his mother’s face was real and he knew his was the same. In a move of utter and pathetic cowardice, he rose and ran from the room. 

~*~*~

If there truly were nine circles of Hell, then in the month since he’d taken on his duties, Killian surely must have taken up residence in one of the lower levels of Hell on earth. With every new ceremony, each document he signed as Kilmartin, and every “my lord” he was forced to endure, it was as if Liam's spirit was being pushed further and further away.

Everything that had been Liam’s was now his. 

Except Emma.

And Killian was determined to keep it that way. He would not bring that last insult to bear against his brother’s memory. He’d seen her, of course. And offered his best words of comfort. Which were, truthfully, woefully inadequate. And both he and Emma knew it. 

He’d been more relieved that she was physically unharmed than upset over the loss of the child. But he couldn’t very well say that.

Their mothers, for some reason, felt compelled to describe the event in gruesome detail, a chamber maid trotting out the bloodied sheets as proof that Lady Kilmartin had indeed lost the baby. Lord Isaac had nodded in approval when presented with the evidence, but had then added that Lady Kilmartin would still need to be observed closely for the next few months to be sure she was not increasing. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to circumvent the sacred laws of primogeniture, he’d asserted.

The rage inside Killian at that statement nearly propelled him to pick up Lord Isaac bodily and throw him out the window, but he managed to control himself by the most tenuous of grips.

He still hadn’t moved into Kilmartin House. He knew it was expected, but the circumstances at the house hadn’t changed, and Killian still couldn’t bring himself to live in the same house as the woman he loved.

Who now stood at the threshold of his study. She looked thin and pale, but her green eyes flashed.

“Emma?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

He was shocked. He couldn’t deny it. She’d never been here. Not when Liam was alive. And certainly not after.

“I wanted to see you.” The rest of her statement, her accusation really, went unspoken. You’ve been avoiding me.

Was this improper? He hadn’t a clue. Their relationship now was so different and ambiguous, he couldn’t guess what rules of etiquette applied. He motioned to a seat and she took it, her fingers twisting in her lap. 

She finally looked at him, her gaze intense, grief and anger swirling in their depths.

“I’ve missed you.” Make that an even lower level of hell.

“Emma…” he tried.

“You are… were… my friend,” she said, angrily, swiping at the tear that tracked down her face. “Besides Liam, you were my closest friend!”

Emma, I…” he tried again. He was a fool. And a coward. And he didn’t know what to say to her.

“Where have you been?” 

“I…” He was speechless. Brought down by an angry and grief-stricken face, and a mountain of guilt. Although guilt for exactly what, he couldn’t pinpoint any longer. It came from too many sources to make sense of anymore.

“I needed you.” The plaintive need in her voice nearly undid him. “You knew him best. You loved him the most, besides me. Why didn’t you come and help me?”

Killian looked down at his desk. He couldn’t lie to her. But he couldn’t tell her the truth either.

“I don’t know,” he settled upon instead. She was quiet and Killian couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

“That’s it then,” she whispered. 

“I guess so,” he replied sadly. The sadness threatened to consume him. In the eyes of the ton, he may have gained much, but in reality, he’d lost everything. And the one person who needed him the most… he couldn’t be what she needed. He couldn’t stand to be near her. Because the grief and the anger and the love and the guilt were a never ending flood, and he was drowning.

The ticking clock on the mantle was the only accompaniment to her swirling thoughts. She looked at Killian and took in his tense shoulders, his rigid bearing, the unbridled grief on his countenance mirroring hers. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he finally said, taking a tentative step toward her. Then another. Then another. Then he was kneeling before her, his hand on her knee. “I’m so, so sorry, Emma.”

“Why did this happen?” she cried. “I don’t understand!” The tears poured from her eyes and Killian gathered her into his arms. “It isn’t fair!” She clutched at his jacket, holding on for dear life as all the grief, all the anger, all the confusion that she thought she’d already released burst forth from her all over again.

“It isn’t fair that it happened to me!” she lamented. “It isn’t fair that this happens to anyone! Oh, what am I to do?”

“I don’t know.” She could just hear him murmuring into her hair and placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. And the comfort she felt from him holding her was almost more than she could bear. For the first time in months, she felt safe and warm. And not alone.

Her tears finally spent, she pulled back from him. 

“Will you come back? To Kilmartin House?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Will you stop ignoring me? I still need you.”

She could see the tears in his own eyes, grief and something else she couldn’t identify, as she waited for him to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t know what to say to you. Didn’t know what I could do, so I stayed away.”

“I know,” she said quietly, looking down at her lap. She still clutched at him, unable to let him go, or the warmth and safety he gave. “I knew that’s why you were staying away, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” He released her and stood, even as her arms reached for him again. “I’ll take up my residence in Kilmartin House.”

He could deny her nothing. And living under the same roof couldn’t possibly be any worse than what he’d already had to endure. And if it was, and it did actually kill him, then so be it.

“Thank you. That will… that will be a great comfort to me. And your mother as well.” She paused for a moment and rose. “You know, you were to be his father, in a way.”

Killian felt the blood drain from his face and his heart stop. 

“What did you say?” The words were soft, weak, he could barely catch his breath to get them out.

“The baby,” she replied, turning toward him. “In the absence of his father, you’d have been the closest thing he had. And even with him gone, having you here will help me let him go. Let them both go.”

But Killian didn’t hear those last words. His heart started beating again at a gallop and the blood rushed in his ears. All he could grasp from her statement was that he would have been a father to the baby, and that knowledge destroyed him. 

The title, the lands, the money, the power, the responsibility were all his now. The only things that weren’t were Liam’s wife and child. And now Emma was telling him that wasn’t true either.

He grabbed Emma by the arms. He was shaking, and she looked frightened but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t let her go.

“No!” he cried. “I can’t! I won’t! I’m not Liam!”

“Of course you’re not,” Emma cried out, thoroughly alarmed at the sudden change that had come over Killian. She’d never seen him like this. His eyes were glazed and unseeing, his grip on her arms painful, but her words to try and reach him, to get him to release her, fell on deaf ears. He looked wild, crazed, like a cornered animal that would either make a last desperate attack to try and save itself, or fall over and wait for the final killing blow.

“You can’t ask this of me,” he breathed, the strength and energy that fueled him, completely disappearing. He still held her tightly, but his eyes were finally seeing her and not some vision playing out in his mind. “I can’t do it.”

“Killian, you’re hurting me,” she whispered. “Please let me go.” He released her suddenly, the recrimination in his eyes and the restored blood flow in her arms bringing tears to her eyes.

“I’d… I’d better go,” she said, pulling away from him. She looked at him for a moment more, trying to make sense out of what just happened. She’d never seen Killian like that before and it frightened her. She wasn’t afraid of him, though. Even after that, she knew with utter surety that he would never harm her and would protect her to his last breath.

“Perhaps… perhaps it would be better if you remained here instead of Kilmartin House.”

“Y- yes,” he stammered, nodding with a jerky motion. “I think that would be best.” 

Not only had she lost Liam, and her child, but it was now clear she’d lost Killian as well. And she didn’t quite know what she would do about that.

~*~*~

Once Emma was gone, Killian sat back down behind his desk and poured himself a tall drink.

He’d made a promise to her and broken it almost in the same breath. He’d spent the last month fulfilling the duties of the earl and then Emma’s words made him realize something.

She truly had no inkling of his feelings for her, and as long as that was the case, as long as she didn’t understand how much he hated himself for every step he took in Liam’s shoes, he couldn’t be near her. 

And that brought him to a decision. Rarely in life had his path been this clear. He slammed back the rum and rose from his desk. When he arrived at his bedchamber, he found his valet carefully folding a cravat.

“Smee,” he asked. “What do you think of India?”

~*~*~

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you thought! Next ch will be up on Saturday!

[bottomlouisficfest]

We hope you’ve enjoyed the fics from weeks 3-4 of the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2023! Every two weeks, we’re compiling all of the fics from that period into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

only you and you alone (can thrill me like you do)

A fic by camilevol6 on AO3 | @svnflouwervol6 on Twitter

13k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry wrinkles his nose as he fights Louis' dress to get his hands underneath it, panting deeply. "Alpha..." "I'm still hungry, Louis," he claims with a severity that is derailed by his ragged breathing. "I thought I heard you say you were going to take care of everything."

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Sugar Water

A fic by neversaygoodbye on AO3 | @tomlinsunsfringe on Tumblr

9k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

When his most familiar begins to feel all too unfamiliar, Harry finds out what it means to love like real people do. Or, Harry comes back home from Princeton and has to face the consequences of his actions. The songs for this fic are 'Changes' by Cam and 'The World Spins Madly On' by the Weepies.

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PILOT.

A fic by babby_cakess on AO3 | @_babby_cakes on Twitter

5k | Teen & Up | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“We have fifteen minutes.” Harry glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “How fast do you think my tongue can make you come?” Still against the wall, Louis felt a shiver run from the back of his neck down his spine. In three years walking on moving planes, he'd never had such zero control over his legs. At least not until now.

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Stockholm Syndrome

A fic by Hazzascul_07 on AO3 | @hazzascul on Tumblr

14k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"That's it!", Harry screamed in his face, "I'm done with you! I'll take you to your home, where you belong, where your father will be waiting for you with a belt in his fucking hands!" He could not go home. He was finally free. He will do anything to not go back to that place. He desperately and uselessly tried to free his hands, stumbling on his feet. "NO! No! No please, please, please don't take me back, please! I'll behave, I'll listen to you, I swear! Don't take me back, Harry! Please! Alpha!!" By now tears were flowing down his cheeks. Screw his stupid brain and his stupid heart. He was too good for the world. He was too hopeful to think that Harry was any different from his father and his brothers. It was true, all the alphas were the same. All with their disgusting need to control and breed and ruin the life of an omega. To take and take and take, and never give anything back. It seemed as if expecting goodness from the world was a crime and he was the biggest sinner.

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all the small things you do (remind me why i fell for you)

A fic by Ashisinlove on AO3 | @Ashisinlove28 on Twitter

54k | Not Rated | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 68: Pack alpha Harry only wants to marry for matrimonial benefits but no other omega wishes to marry him for his reputation of being a big scary wolf who snarls at everyone for even breathing the wrong way. Omega Louis, to improve his pack’s condition, decides to be Harry’s pack Luna but is taken aback by how soft and sweet Harry actually is with him. AU where Harry is intimidating pack alpha but is very sweet and lovely with his soon-to-be mate and would do anything for his pack Luna, even make fool of himself in front of everyone just to see his giggle.

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Swap me for your shadow

A fic by lunarheslwt on AO3 | @lunarheslwt on Tumblr | @OWildeLarry on Twitter

17k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“…I’m just … so in love with him.” Louis blinked. What??? This hushed revelation from Harry came like a gunshot- loud - and made his heart plummet. He could hardly process it, as he stood there freezing in the wind, hidden behind the balcony door. Harry was … Harry was in love?? Since when?? The shock and confusion that had fallen over him like a bucket of ice was slowly washed over by a feeling that ran hot and acidic. Somehow, it gripped around his lungs tighter, more cruelly. Harry was in love with someone….and it wasn’t him. If Louis thought being in love with his best friend was a knife that continually twisted into his heart before, it was nothing compared to when Harry started to go around talking about having fallen for someone else. A 5+1 fic; 5 times Louis has to listen to Harry’s vague confessions of love for his ‘omega friend’ and the 1 time Louis snaps and confesses his love for Harry.

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White Noise Frequency

A fic by whoknows on AO3 | @crazyupsetter on Tumblr

6k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

In the dark, something crashes. Louis stirs, barely opening his eyes as he gropes across the bedside table for his phone. Muffled cursing is coming from the hallway, probably about ten feet away from the bedroom door. Allowing himself the tiniest of smiles, Louis yanks the phone free from the charger and slips out of bed, leaving the blankets pooled on the floor. He doesn’t bother with shoes or clothes, moving silently across the floor in his bare feet. Eyes open now, adjusting to the shadows in the dark room, he waits behind the door, crouched down. There’s no more noise. Louis waits, breathing slowly, steadily. He’s awake now, fully alert. He’s got a loose grip on his phone, and he doesn’t glance down at the screen no matter how much he wants to. This really shouldn’t be happening anymore. Three years, two new houses, an upgraded security system and actual money to throw at the problem means this definitely shouldn’t be happening anymore. In the dark, something crashes. Louis stirs, barely opening his eyes as he gropes across the bedside table for his phone. Muffled cursing is coming from the hallway, probably about ten feet away from the bedroom door.

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Tainted Love

A fic by Darling28 on AO3 | @darling-28 on Tumblr | @sunfLOUwer__ on Twitter

39k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Broken awards, cut-up blouses, childish pranks and lots of nastiness? This is apparently all that remains of Louis and Harry after a sudden break-up and they walk a fine line between love, revenge and jealousy. Will the two find their way back to each other or are they both too hurt? ↫•↬ ↫•↬ ↫•↬ Prompt 4: Exes to Lovers AU where Harry and Louis are celebrities who have had a bitter breakup and they write songs/post shady captions to rile each other up. Louis says in an interview that he has moved on from dating pop stars to football players because they have better stamina.

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A Package Deal

A fic by alltheselights on AO3 | @alltheselights on Tumblr | @alltheselightts on Twitter

19k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis knows Harry hasn’t fucked and run because he can hear him talking quietly in the next room. He shouldn’t care enough to get up and find out who he’s talking to—he knows cops get phone calls at all hours of the night and day—but Louis has always been too curious for his own good. He pushes himself up off the couch and pulls on his underwear, which he finds several feet away, folded in a small pile. Harry must have done that while he was still asleep. It feels a little silly to be tiptoeing around in his own home, but Louis does it anyway. When he finally peeks around the corner to the kitchen, he sees Harry kneeling on the floor with Biscuit, and that alone is enough to disrupt Louis’ usual heart rate. When he realizes that Biscuit is allowing Harry to scratch around his ears while he mutters to him quietly about what a pretty boy he is, well, okay. Now Louis might need a defibrillator. For the past three years, it’s just been Louis and his one-eye orange cat, Biscuit. When Louis starts sleeping with Harry, the aggravating cop stationed at the emergency room where he works, he has no reason to think anything will change. Unfortunately, Biscuit and Harry have other plans.

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it was all by design ('cause i'm a mastermind)

A fic by tempolarriefics on AO3 | @tempolarriefix on Tumblr

22k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“You can’t be serious. You think I would be so awful to work for - you would rather quit?” “Don’t be all high and mighty about it,” Harry scoffs. “Surely you would do the same.” “I’m not being high and mighty. It’s called being professional.” “Really?” Harry pushes. “You’d work diligently under me with no complaints? You’d do whatever I asked of you?” “That would be my job, so yeah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’d work you so fucking hard,” he says slowly, “that you’d have to quit.” Or, the childhood friends to strangers to coworkers to enemies to lovers fic that you never knew you needed.

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Remember to give these fics kudos and comments, and spread their fic posts!

--

All roundups will be linked here:

Weeks 1-2 Roundup

Weeks 3-4 Roundup

Weeks 5-6 Roundup

Weeks 7-8 Roundup

Weeks 9-10 Roundup

Week 11 Roundup

[jessybarnes]

Take Away My Heartache

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean x Castiel

Rating: 18+ Only!

Tags: SEASON 15 EPISODE 3 SPOILERS, Destiel, Arguments, Angst, Language, Drinking, M/M sex, Anal Fingering, Prostate stimulation, Anal Sex, Begging, Finger sucking, Unprotected sex, Implied self-blame, Dean is slightly OOC in this, and I think that's it.

Word Count: Over 3k

Beta: T. Thompson

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I hope you all enjoy it. :)

Reblogging Divider Created By: @cafekitsune

Supernatural Divider Created By: @firefly-graphics

Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?

The sting of Dean’s words cut through Castiel’s heart like a knife as the sound of the Bunker door shutting behind him echoed in the distance. Truth be told, he’d give anything to run right back into his hunter’s arms and forget the argument ever happened.

His hunter.

Those two little words used to bring him nothing but joy, something an Angel of the Lord rarely felt. Now…Now, it only brought tears to his eyes because clearly, Dean wasn’t his. Not anymore. 

The dry leaves crunched beneath Cas’ shoes as he walked. The cool autumn air nipping at the skin exposed at his neck made him shiver. Not only were he and Dean over, but he’d lost Jack too. Never in his entire existence had he felt so alone.

Jack, his son, for all intents and purposes, was dead. Even though there wasn’t anything he could have done to stop it at the time, he still blamed himself. He’d made a promise to Kelly. He swore to her he’d keep her son safe and he couldn’t even do that. 

Hell, maybe Dean was right. Maybe he should have just stuck to the plan. They would have found a way to stop Belphegor. They’d saved the world before. This wasn’t their first go-around. Instead, he let his emotions get the better of him and killed the lying sack of shit while he had the chance. He’d figured Dean would have been proud of him, cheer at his braveness. Not once did he think Dean would dismiss him like their ten-year-long relationship meant nothing. 

Cas found himself in an all too familiar place. The barn where it all began. The very place he first stood face to face with Dean. It still looked the same. The various black warding sigils and chipped white paint were still there and immediately brought back every memory he shared with the elder Winchester. Finally, he let himself feel the emotions he’d been holding back. A choked sob left his lips as he sank down onto the cold, hard ground. 

The sound of glass shattering made Sam’s ears perk up. He hurried into the Library armed and ready only to find Dean hunched over the table. His hands splayed out on the dark wooden surface, the remnants of broken glass joined his beer in a wet puddle on the floor. Slowly, he lowered his gun and walked cautiously toward him.

“Dean? Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Cas?”

Dean didn’t look at him, his breathing heavy as his shoulders started to shake. Now, this was a sight. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother cry this hard.

“Hey, whoa… Dean? C’mon man, talk to me.” 

Dean shook his head, his tears falling against the table’s veneer. “He’s gone, Sammy…”

Sam didn’t miss how broken his brother sounded. He wasn’t naive to the fact that Cas was intimate with Dean. You’d have to be blind not to know how they felt for one another. Sighing, he set his gun on the table and moved so he could see his brother’s face.

“Dean, you have to calm down. I’m sure he’s coming ba-”

The sound of the chair being kicked over made Sam jump, his brother’s tear-filled eyes boring into his own.

“WHAT DON’T YOU GET, SAM?! CAS. IS. GONE. NEVER COMING BACK! END OF STORY!”

Dean’s chest heaved as he fished the keys to the Impala out of his pocket. It wasn’t until his footfalls echoed down the hallway that Sam reacted. His long legs walked quickly after him.

“Dean! Wait, Dean, you can’t just leave while you’re upset like this!”

Dean didn’t react to his little brother’s plea, but that didn’t stop Sam from trying. He was hot on his heels as they crossed the threshold of the Bunker’s garage. The familiar creak of the Impala’s door broke the silence between them as Sam waited for a response. Dean fired up the engine and gripped the steering wheel, the tips of his knuckles turning white as he let out a long shaky sigh.

“Don’t you get it, Sammy? I break everything I touch. I’m poison. Happiness wasn’t meant for me. This life ... there’s no chance at love when you’re a part of it. I push everyone away and I’ll be damned if I do something to ruin the last relationship I have. Let me go, Sammy … before I force you to leave me too.” 

Reluctantly Sam stepped back and watched Dean drive away. His brother’s words tore at his heartstrings as the sleek black car disappeared out of sight. Part of what Dean said was true in a sense. Rarely did someone with their job description find happiness. He’d tried … time and time again he had tried.

First with Jessica, the love of his life from his Stanford days. Then there was Amelia, the sweet veterinarian with a heart of gold. Eileen was another one that ultimately ended in tragedy. 

Of course, there were others that Sam had been romantically involved with, but more often than not his love interests shared something in common with one another. They weren’t hunters. They didn’t spend every day knowing what went bump in the night or lurked just beyond the shadows. That’s one thing that was different between him and Dean. Before they’d met Cas, his brother didn’t care much about settling down. One-night stands were his specialty, something that Sam often envied. 

The moment Castiel made himself known to them, Dean’s whole demeanor changed. It was subtle at first. He started cutting back on the number of women he’d spend the night with. Then came the not-so-discreet glances. Cas was oblivious to them of course, but Sam wasn’t. He’d known his brother all his life so he was quite familiar with that look. Dean was attracted to the Angel. Once his stubborn brother got enough alcohol in his system he finally made his move. The rest was history. 

The silence in the garage became almost deafening as Sam’s thoughts continued to race through his head. They’d lost so much recently. Their Dad, their Mom, Jack, and Rowena. So many people they loved were gone. He’d be damned if Dean lost Cas too. 

He half jogged back into the library and picked up the broken pieces of his brother’s beer bottle. After cleaning up the wetness with a towel from the kitchen, he headed back to his room to get his phone. Hopefully, Cas still had the one they’d given him. He held his breath as the shrill ringing filled his ears.

“C’mon … C’mon”

His persistent voice was the only sound in the room other than his boots pacing the floor. 

After the third ring, he finally heard the gruff sound of Cas’ voice.

“H-Hello?”

A wave of relief washed over Sam.

“Cas? Hey, don’t hang up okay? Just… hear me out…”

He waited, listening for any sort of acknowledgment from the Angel. When he didn’t get any, he took the opportunity and kept going.

“First things first, where are you? Are you safe?”

A cough and a low groan made his chest heavy with worry.

“Cas?” 

“Sam, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m an Angel. I can take care of myself.”

Sam frowned and stopped pacing, his hand finding purchase on his hip. “That’s not what I …” He sighed, not wanting to be the second person that argued with him today. “Look, Cas, I realize it’s not my place, but I know what you have with Dean is worth fighting for. I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you. He’s just… he’s a little lost right now. In no way am I defending his actions because I don’t know what was said, but I will stand here and say that my brother loves you. He’s madly in love with you, Cas…” 

A shaky breath on the other end of the phone told Sam that he was still there.

"I...I love him too, Sam. Like I've never loved anyone or anything before."

Another ragged cough told Sam that Cas wasn’t being forthcoming with how bad his health really was and it worried him. Hell, shouldering pain and wounds was one of their specialties after all.

“Cas, listen to me, okay? Everything that’s happened recently has taken its toll on all of us. I can’t speak for you or Dean, but having to … to” A shaky sigh left his lips as tears threatened to slip down his cheeks. Eventually, a few betrayed him and his vision became blurry as he forced the words out. “... kill Rowena wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.”

He cleared the lump in his throat and swallowed thickly.

“What I’m trying to say is we can get through this. We’ve saved the world so many times, and I’ll be damned if we let God’s little temper tantrum do us in.”

Cas wasn’t saying anything, but his occasional exhale told Sam he was still there.

“Please, Cas. Just tell me where you are so I can come and get you.”

Neither of them said anything for what felt like an eternity. Finally, relief washed over Sam when he heard the Angel respond.

“The barn … I’m at the barn where it all began.”

“I’ll be there as fast as I can, Cas! Just … stay there.” Sam hung up and began packing his duffel bag. 

Dean welcomed the smooth burn of the whiskey in his glass as he knocked it back. Maybe if he drank enough he’d be able to forget those sad blue eyes and how he was the cause of said emotion. The bartender eyed him curiously but filled his glass again nevertheless.

“Relationship problems?”

Dean downed the golden brown liquid in two gulps before sliding the cup back.

“With all due respect, it’s really none of your business. Now, if you’d be so kind, I’d like to drink until I’m numb. In fact, just go ahead and leave the bottle.”

After tossing a few twenties and sporting a stern look, the man seemed to get the message. Even if Dean didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, it was better than sharing them with some stranger just to be judged. He took another sip and groaned happily. Yep, being alone was much better. 

The vibration of his phone startled him out of his thoughts once again.

“Now, what?” He grumbled.

Seeing his brother’s name lit up on the screen made him roll his eyes, but he swiped to answer anyway.

“Dammit, Sammy. I’ve been gone for a few hours what could you possibly…” He was cut off by the frantic edge in Sam’s voice.

“Dean! It’s… It’s Cas… he… he told me he was at the barn where you met. I went to get him a-and now he… he won’t wake up.” 

Dean felt his blood run cold. 

He pushed the stool away from the counter and all but ran back to the Impala.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up?!”

Baby’s tires spun as Dean pulled back onto the main road toward the Bunker.

“I-I-I don’t know, Dean… He’s breathing, but he seems to be in some sort of celestial coma? When I talked to him on the phone, he kept coughing and wheezing. I don’t know what to do. Normally, I’d call Rowena, but… she’s…”

Dean cut his brother off before he could finish, his knuckles white on the steering wheel for the second time that day.

“Sammy, listen to me. Just get back to the Bunker as fast as you can. I’ll meet you there, and we will figure this out … the Winchester way.”

He ended the call and tossed his phone on the seat next to him, his boot pushing the gas pedal all the way to the floor. 

The moment Sam arrived with Cas, Dean was there to help. They carried him to the hospital wing in the Bunker and carefully laid him on the cot. Dean couldn’t help but notice how sickly his angel looked. He’d lost weight, his skin was pale and hot to the touch, and his lips were chapped more than they normally were.

Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he looked at his brother in defeat. “Sammy… I.. I can’t lose him. I was so stupid… so fucking stupid…” His shoulders shook violently the moment he let his emotions take over. 

Sam was determined to make things better again. Not just for his brother, but for the sole fact that he refused to let anyone else they cared for die.

“Keep an eye on him, Dean. I’ll hit the books and make some phone calls. You should stay here just in case he wakes up.”

All Dean could do was nod and watch as Sam walked away. He turned his gaze back to Cas, his fingertips reaching up to gently caress his cheek. He was afraid to do much else. 

Eventually, Dean’s eyes grew heavy as the adrenaline wore off from earlier. Leaving Cas was out of the question, so he did the only thing he could think of and gently curled up on the mattress beside him. He slung his arm protectively over the angel’s torso and carefully laid his head against his chest.

He couldn’t help the memories of their first night together flooding his mind. How they listened to music in Baby and drove out in the country to look at the stars. A tear slid down his cheek as he began to softly sing their song, the one that Cas insisted they listen to on repeat the whole trip home. 

I can hear her heartbeat for a thousand miles And the heaven's open every time she smiles And when I come to her that's where I belong Yet I'm running to her like a river's song She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down Yeah when I come to her when the sun goes down Take away my trouble, take away my grief Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love Yes I need her in the daytime  Yes I need her in the night  Yes I want to throw my arms around her Kiss and hug her, kiss and hug her tight Yeah when I'm returning from so far away She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me whole Yes it makes me mellow down in to my soul She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

The last thing Castiel remembered was seeing Sam’s concerned face. Then there was only darkness. He wasn’t dead, no, this was something different. A coma maybe? He couldn’t open his eyes or move, but he was able to hear everything going on around him.

Angels normally don’t go through things like this, but if their bodies get too worn down then they go into somewhat of a protective mode. He figured this is what happened to him when he used the last of his strength to teleport himself to the barn. His celestial powers needed to replenish. 

He hated hearing how worried Sam and Dean were. He especially hated how much Dean blamed himself. He’d spent so much time showing his boyfriend how much good he brought to the world, and now he felt like Dean was closing himself off again.

He’d only wanted to take some of the stress from Dean. That’s why he chose to kill Belphegor instead of letting him do more damage. Cas knew Dean didn’t mean to hurt him and he longed to tell him how sorry he was. 

It became a waiting game, letting his vessel reenergize itself. There was no telling how long it would take, but Castiel took comfort in knowing that the man he loved was snuggled into his side. If only he could have comforted Dean and wiped his tears.

The sound of the elder Winchester’s voice filled the small room, and it was then that he realized Dean was singing to him. Cas’ heart both soared and broke at the same time by the emotion in his voice as the lyrics flowed freely from memory. The last thing he heard before Dean fell asleep was him saying how sorry he was and how much he loved him. 

Dean groaned and tightened his grip around Castiel. What time was it? Had Sam found anything? Several questions ran through his mind as he prepared to open his eyes. Before he could, he felt a hand smooth down his back. His heart skipped a beat as he sat up.

Beautiful blue eyes gazed into his own, and Dean looked at him like it was the first time he saw him all over again.

“Cas?! Cas! Oh, I’m so happy you’re okay. I’m sorry for the things I said to you before. I was so stupid and I know you were just trying t-”

His rambling was cut off as Cas smashed his lips against his. Their tongues danced together and when Cas finally pulled away he was panting as hard as Dean was. 

“Dean, you have nothing to be sorry for. I forgave you the moment it happened, and there’s nothing you could do to make me love you any less. You will always be perfect in my eyes. Forever the Righteous Man I saved and rebuilt all those years ago. I love you.”

Dean placed another emotional kiss on Cas’ lips, pouring all his love and need into it. Never in his life did he think he’d be able to settle down with anyone. Being a hunter of the supernatural meant a short life span more often than not. He was conditioned to not get too attached to anyone, but with Cas, he couldn’t help himself. This was different. Cas was different, and without the Angel, in his life, he’d be incomplete. 

The need to feel Castiel’s touch nearly took his breath away. No words were spoken as they rid each other of their clothes. Cas flipped them over so he was hovering above Dean, his blue eyes glowing with power. Dean felt his cock swell in anticipation, his breathing becoming more ragged by the second.

“Cas, please…” 

Castiel began to trail kisses along his jaw, nipping at the skin now and again. The moment he began sucking at Dean’s pulse point he could feel just how much he needed him. His cock was pinned between Cas’, the tip weeping beads of precum.

“I love seeing you like this, Dean. I love when you let go for me and let yourself be vulnerable."

Dean whined shamelessly at his words, his hand reaching between their bodies to slowly stroke Cas’ cock.

“Mmmm, Dean… Gonna make you feel so good.” Cas brought two of his fingers up to Dean’s lips, pushing them into his mouth. “Suck.” 

Dean obliged, swirling his tongue skillfully around his digits. Cas nearly came undone at the sight below him. The way the elder Winchester fluttered his eyes shut the moment his perfect lips closed around them, his soft moans as his slick tongue flicked over his fingertips and the constellation of freckles littered over his skin. Reluctantly, Cas pulled them free and pressed one against Dean’s entrance.

“Relax for me.”

It wasn’t a command, but Dean knew it would do him well to obey. The first few moments were always painful, but the pleasure Cas promised was better than anything he’d ever felt. 

“C-Cas… I… I need you. Please… don’t make me wait… F-Fuck!”

Cas knew he’d found Dean’s prostate just from the sound of Dean’s plea. His fingers grazed the bundle of nerves making the man beneath him shiver.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you into this mattress, Dean, I very much like hearing you beg.” 

Dean whimpered as Cas continued to slowly fuck him open with his fingers, his hands fisting the thin sheet under him.

“Unngh! P-Please fuck me… need you inside me so bad.”

Cas smirked and peppered kisses along Dean’s chest. “I know you can do better than that, Dean. I’ve seen you do it.” 

Dean arched his back and cried out, his mouth opening in a perfect “o” shape.

“I need it! Oh, fuck I n-need it, Cas! Need you to fuck me until I can’t think anymore… Please…. Oh, fuck! Please. Please. Please…”

Finally, Cas gave in. His cock replaces his fingers as he slowly thrust inside Dean to the hilt. Both cried out in unison, their bodies thrumming with arousal. 

Cas leaned down to kiss Dean softly before starting a steady pace. It was a wonder the poorly built cot didn’t break beneath them. Dean’s cries filled the small room as Cas fucked into him relentlessly.

“Oh, fu-... C-Cas! Oh, Cas! R-Right there!”

They’d done this enough that Cas knew Dean was close. The way his body shook, how desperate he sounded when he moaned, and how he clenched around him. He’d normally draw this out, and take his time with his hunter, but this was something they both needed. 

Cas began to stroke Dean’s thick cock in time with his thrusts, his angelic grace causing the lightbulbs above them to burst with all the energy in the room. Both of them fell over the edge together, Dean’s cries swallowed by Cas’ kiss. Once they came down from their high, Cas carefully pulled out of Dean and pulled him close.

“Dean, you complete me. From the moment my father told me to rescue you from Hell, I knew my life would change forever.”

Dean kissed Cas sweetly and nuzzled into his neck. “I love you, Cas. M’heart s’yours.” 

Sometime later, Sam came home from the library and noticed how quiet the Bunker was. He made his way to the hospital room and snorted to himself at the broken glass on the floor. Glancing at the cot, he smiled widely at the sight of his brother and Cas asleep in each other’s arms. 

“Thank God.” He breathed.

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Seven

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

AO3 Link

CHAPTER SEVEN - THE LOOK YOU GIVE

Abby and Helaena find their voices in different ways, and we have new arrivals at the Red Keep.

Abby pressed her hands against her bared collarbones, feeling the prickle of heat that crept down her cheeks and flushed across every bit of skin that was revealed by the square cut neckline of the new gown. Wylla Karstark’s ruby red pout was pulled into an amused smile while she tugged at the laces of the other girl’s bodice. The pale blue taffeta had a satin shine and was, by far, the loveliest thing she’d ever owned. The neckline and cuffs of her fitted sleeves were edged with the finest ivory lace. Her golden red curls hung freely down her back, with delicate, mother of pearl combs keeping her hair from her face and the light, ivory veil that covered her hair in place. She watched Wylla move in the reflection of the mirror, wishing her own hair could look as thick and lovely as the elder girl’s raven curls.

“You look lovely, my lady.” Wylla’s northern accent was a song in itself, her amusement nothing but lighthearted. “You might make him swallow his tongue, since he already can’t keep his eyes off you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Aegon’s…” Abby bit her lip before Wylla tsked at her like a cat so she could dab some coral paint onto her mouth. Abby remained still and silent until she was done. “Aegon does, well, I mean I do catch him looking. But,” her brow furrowed and her hands fluttered and smoothed over the bodice of the dress. She missed her woven belt, and the feel of the tiny mends she’d made in the fabric.

“But what?” Wylla asked with a finely arched eyebrow and promptly reached up to pinch Abby’s cheeks until they went a deeper pink. She’d been here only a fortnight, having come south with her brother while he discussed some sort of trade agreements, and was promptly pulled into service by the queen. Better than a Hightower cousin, in Abby’s book. With Wylla, she didn’t feel spied on like Lady Penrose, nor belittled. In the short time they had known one another, Abby thought she might be making a friend.

‘Maybe', came the shy, giddy thought, 'she could be a sister.’ She loved Helaena, who had been her sister and companion, with all her heart, but Wylla had quickly filled the empty spot in Abby’s chest that she suspected her own sister, Corynna, should have filled.

It was a strange feeling to not have to take care of someone. While she was still struggling to get used to the idea of being waited on, she wouldn’t deny that there was something in her that ached to be cared for. Wylla’s no nonsense and relatively pleasant manner, and surprising sarcasm, was a delight and a surprise and she found herself hanging on her every word, looking to her for guidance in only these last few days.

“But what, my lady?” Came Wylla’s repeated question, and her cool fingers touched her chin, rubbing off a bit of stray lip paint with her thumb. Abby crinkled her nose and huffed.

“But I feel as though this is too much. That I shouldn’t be… that it’s unseemly to attract attention.”

“Och!” Her fingers flicked the tip of Abby’s nose. “What southern nonsense are you spouting now? You’re betrothed to a prince, are you not?” Abby nodded. “You want him to admire you, and no others, right?”

A heated sensation curled in her chest thinking about Aegon looking at other girls, and resolutely ignoring her. “Well, of course I want him to admire me. I want to please him.”

“And he should also please you, that’s what my mother always says. A woman takes her own pleasure in a marriage, just as much as the husband, and if you flush any redder, you’ll turn into one of those apples, I’m sure.”

Abby nodded again, pressing her hands once more to the expanse of collarbone on display. She felt so silly being self-conscious about her dress. It was nowhere near as revealing as some of the dresses the ladies of the court wore. Nowhere near as revealing as what some of the women she’d seen Aegon flirt with wearing. Collarbones and shoulders and the swells of their breasts teased in the candlelight; Aegon flush with wine and preening beneath the attention.

“Mayhaps I should tug the shoulders down some more?”

Wylla did little to disguise the indelicate snort she let out and Abby felt her hands tug along the tops of her sleeves. “Won’t work on this dress but maybe you should push your breasts up.”

“My what?” Abby squeaked, her hands now pressing against her perfectly concealed bust.

Wylla rolled her eyes, and shoved her hands down her own top to adjust her breasts. “Now you try.”

“I… Oh, just…” Muttering soft curses beneath her breath, she reached down into her tightly fitted bodice to push her breasts up so they swelled ever so softly, framed by the lace. “Do you think he’ll like this?”

“My dear girl, he won’t know what to do with himself. Lucky for me, I get to watch. Now come on.”

Abby’s fingers carefully clasped the thin, silver chain around her neck. The charm was the shield and rivers of her house, tiny against her decolletage. It was so delicate she was always afraid of snapping it, but it was the one bit of jewelry she had. So fretful over herself, Abby did not immediately notice Helaena falling in step beside her, dressed in pale pink and silvery blue, sleeves puffed at her shoulders and elbows. Abby noticed her breasts looked nice in the wide cut of the neckline, not as deep as her own.

“It’ll be better once you have the jewels on you,” Helaena said as if picking up Abby’s self-conscious thoughts, or maybe she simply understood the look. “I like it when Aemond looks at my breasts. Aegon likes breasts, he talks about them all the time. Aemond says Aegon talks about yours a lot.”

Wylla, half a step behind, positively cackled. “Oh, this is going to be glorious.”

Abby knew she was as red as her hair. “I-I can’t do this, I have to change.” Helaena grabbed her by the arm and jerked her back, her other hand coming up to straighten the necklace around Abby’s neck.

“No you don’t. You change nothing, do you understand? There is nothing lacking, and there is nothing wrong with you,” Helaena said softly, brushing a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

She opened her mouth and then shut it with a click of her teeth, nodding mutely and took a deep breath. “I’m not this nervous seeing him day to day,” she said softly.

“Nor when you pulled him behind the tapestry outside mother’s room to kiss him,” Helaena said knowingly, a smile playing across her face. “Or when Aemond found you pushing him up against the bookcase.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see Wylla’s face going red from how hard she was trying to keep her grin at bay. Failing, of course, but she appreciated the effort. She shifted on her feet and smoothed her fingers over the delicate satin bodice once more. “I don’t think that’s true. Tis I who…” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely into nothing. “It’s rather unbecoming. He never initiates anything. He’s exceedingly good about it.” Which continued to confuse her to no end because she’d seen the way he’d ogle serving maids and the other ladies, not to mention how he did, in fact, like kissing her. She’d seen him reach and pinch a lady’s hip while passing, that stupid and devastating smirk crossing his features. His hands would encompass her waist or cup her cheeks, but other than that, he surprisingly did not reach for her.

He also didn’t complain when she reached for him. Aegon didn’t resist when she was the one who dragged him into quiet spots, grinning at her giggles and returning her kisses.

“It’s Aegon. He’s a fool, and he drinks too much, and if you don’t think he’s as nervous about you as you are of him, then I don’t know what you’ve been paying attention to our whole lives.” Helaena’s tone was gentle, if firm, as if patiently explaining to a child that the sun rose at dawn and set at dusk. Her lavender eyes looked down the hall towards the grand staircase and then reached up to adjust one of the combs in Abby’s hair. Helaena’s own silver-gold hair was braided back from her face, a vine of pearls woven into it. Guilt stung her that she hadn’t been the one to do Helaena’s hair.

“So you’re saying he’s too nervous to, um…”

“Accost you?” Wylla supplied helpfully. “In a good way.”

Abby huffed. “Yes. Accost me the way I want to accost him. No, surely there’s a better word than that.”

A smirk crossed Helaena’s features, wicked and lovely across her pretty mouth. “You want him up your skirts the way you want to see beneath his breeches.”

“Helaena!” Abby gasped just as Wylla let out a bubbling screech of giggles, unable to contain them. Helaena joined in the mirth and Abby growled at them both. “I am not dignifying that with an answer.”

The Targaryen princess, a dragonrider in her own right, with a mount older than most, leaned in to brush her cheek against her own, mouth close to her ear. “I know you were thinking about Aegon when we practiced kisses,” Helaena murmured, mirth in her voice but even amidst all the teasing, Abby didn’t feel belittled. “And you’ve been putting it to good use.” She pulled back, and Abby breathed through the heated pool in her belly and all the squirming wriggling that came with it. “It’s Aegon,” Helaena repeated.

She nodded. “It’s Aegon.”

“He calls his horse Mighty Mighty, and if he could get away with it, he’d likely go sleep in the Dragonpit next to Sunfyre.”

Abby felt herself smiling at that, a soft hint of a giggle escaping her. “Mighty Kostōba, the mighty mighty horse.” None had the heart to correct him when he was young, but the eventual teasing still made him growl. Helaena pressed her hands to her shoulders, turning her back towards the stairs and pushing her forward, smacking her bottom for good measure and earning a yelp for the trouble. The princess grinned, tongue poking between her teeth and blushing, Abby returned it, heading through the growing throng of people moving through the corridor.

“You’re not used to this, are you, my lady?” Wylla murmured beside her.

“Abby, please,” she returned with the anxious thread still in her voice, picking up her skirt out of habit. Thankfully her skirts did not trail. She wouldn’t want to ruin the finery worrying about picking her way through the city.

“Mmm, we’re in public now,” Wylla said but bumped her shoulder against her and the warm fondness usually reserved for the clutch bloomed in her chest at the elder’s camaraderie. “How scandalous.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Abby giggled, inclining her head in greeting as they passed Lord Tyland on the stairs, who only spared a surprised look at her as he headed up. “You’re ridiculous and I love it, truly.” She felt the northerner keep close and Abby reached a hand behind her to take Wylla’s and give it a reassuring squeeze. The Keep was a lot, she knew, and she’d grown up there. She couldn’t imagine how much it was for a woman from the edge of the world and silently hoped that chaperoning them through the city would not be too much.

It was then her eyes fell upon Aegon, lounging at the foot of the stairs against the bannister, arm slung over the carving of the dragon that reclined along the the end, its forelegs and head resting at the pillar. His moonlit hair was a cloud of soft waves around his head, his pale skin pink and very scrubbed clean. The leather jerkin he wore was new: buttersoft black leather with shining, golden clasps in the shape of dragon heads, their gaping mouths swallowing the flame closures. The shirt beneath was red, of all things, instead of the green his mother forced him and Aemond into. As crimson as the Targaryen dragon embolized on the banners around them, the cuffs of the linen were tied with gold lacing that criss crossed their way up his sleeves, his arms crossed while he waited. The golden belt around his waist was carved to represent dragon scales, and a dagger in a matching scabbard hung from it, the pommel also a golden dragon. Even the leather trousers he wore, shoved into shining black boots, had the same gold lacing up the sides.

She bit her lip, admiring him while he hadn’t noticed her approach, until she saw that his gaze was towards a group of women laughing near the doors. The fluttering, heated squirming in her belly increased, and she made a sound in the back of her throat, aware of it only because of how it scratched.

“Did you just growl?” She barely heard Wylla mutter before she was making her way down the stairs.

“There you are!” Abby declared, a smile on her face, feeling the chain of her necklace slide against her collarbones, feeling the warm metal of her sigil charm fall into the slight space between her breasts. Her voice felt too loud, for she did her best to ignore the other gazes that turned in their direction, focused only on Aegon who craned his neck at the call before he jerked up from his languid position to turn fully towards her.

There was a deeply satisfied feeling that trickled down her spine at the way his head meant to turn before looking back again, his lilac eyes widening and turning fully toward her. She smiled far more genuinely this time, feeling the flutter start up again as she approached and took the hand he offered her. “You look very handsome,” she told him softly as he simply gaped at her, her own mouth dry. Her belly fluttered again, and she reached up with her free hand to hook her fingers in the gold necklace he wore, the sapphires winking in the light streaming through the windows. She used her hold on it to tug him down enough to brush a soft kiss against his cheek, leaving behind just a slight shine of the coral paint over the flush of pink that suffused his own cheeks.

She heard Aegon exhale a muttered curse that had her swallowing, his hand warm where it enveloped hers, and he turned his head as she pulled back so his nose could bump against hers. It surprised her, and she let out a soft chuckle that had a grin spreading slowly across his face. Sharp and playful, safe and edged in danger all the same.

His pupils had blown black, the lilac a vibrant ring.

Abby rocked back on her heels, smiling back at him and let go of his necklace.

“Good thing we’re taking the damned carriage,” he said, his thumb stroking against the palm of her hand while he guided her down the last few steps.

“Why is that?” she asked and Aegon tugged her closer so she could slip her hand into the crook of his arm. They were being watched - they were meant to be watched - and she wanted to hide her face against his arm, but instead she only tilted her head towards his as he inclined his own.

“Because I fear someone would try to pull you from the horse and spirit you away,” he said, a sidelong glance towards the guards. She squeezed his arm, her other hand coming up to press against his chest while they made their way out the main doors to the courtyard. The usual smell of the baking red stone had given way to something that was earthier and fresh - the storms the previous few days having washed away the dust and dirt that clung to the air.

The carriage was waiting, the pair of horses attached pawing at the ground, their bay coats freshly brushed and harnesses clinking with the shakes of their heads. The Cargylls were both mounted on their horses as their escorts for the outing, Ser Harrold beside them, his polished helm gleaming beneath his arm.

Kostōba, Aegon’s horse, nearly as precious to him as Sunfyre, stood patiently beside the carriage, reins held by one of the stablehands while the footman stood at the open carriage door. The stallion was a gift for Aegon’s eighth name day nearly a decade ago, and had grown larger than most of the other horses in the stable that didn’t belong to the Kingsguard. His coat was a creamy gold color, dappled in a way that made it seem like he had scales of his own. Kostōba’s eyes, bright and brilliantly blue, took in his surroundings, and he let out a soft sound when Aegon whistled to him.

Abby’s fingers tightened in Aegon’s arm when he started to pull away, confusion tripping at her words. “A-are you not, are we not riding together?” The previous warmth had given way to an icy discomfort, and she reached up to press a hand to her belly, her fingers scraping against the fabric with nervous tension.

“We’re going into the city, so I thought you’d feel more comfortable riding with Lady Karstark.” He avoided her gaze, looking at some other spot on her face. His eyes darted lower, along her low neckline. Heat prickled against her skin, but she was not as giddy for it now.

“You said we’d be riding in the carriage, Aegon.” She hated how unsure her voice sounded in her ears, and she dropped her hands from him and instead held her skirts. A deep breath, and a glance at Wylla to give her a slight, reassuring smile. “Is this because we’re not alone? Because of last time?”

Last time they’d come from the Dragonpit had resulted in them being caught upon arrival, Abby half dragged across his lap, her fingers in his hair and his hands bunched in her skirts. The Queen had subsequently forbidden them from riding Sunfyre together. Abby’s feet were to remain firmly on the ground until the wedding.

She’d been the one to initiate that as well.

Aegon shook his head, a sound escaping him, and he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Immediately, she felt her mouth water, wanting to bite on the tip of his finger, and she allowed him to tilt her head back. The jealousy that lingered hoped those ladies saw this; that he touched her so intimately and not them.

“I meant what I said about rather you being in the carriage than someone thinking that you’re ripe for the picking.” While it was endearing in its own protective way, it now rang hollow to Abby’s ears. They were burning beneath her curls and the soft, ivory veil that hung around her.

“We have the Kingsguard, Aegon, I don’t understand. For that reason, I shouldn’t leave the Keep at all.” Aegon pulled away, brushing a kiss against her forehead, and she longed for more. She longed for his lips in other places. “Aegon-” she made to follow him but Wylla caught her elbow and ushered her towards the footman.

“Get in, make yourself cozy, I’ll handle this.” She said it so matter of factly that Abby could only stare at her. Wylla merely smiled back, bobbing a curtsy, and gathered her dove gray skirts in hand, marching over to Aegon.

Abby climbed in, but lingered in the doorway to watch in fascination as Wylla Karstark hissed something to Aegon, unafraid of whatever royal protocol should be followed. There was some gesturing, and she watched her lady point toward the carriage, angling her way into Aegon’s space, not to flirt, but very clearly to intimidate. Aegon seemed to hesitate, and then shoved the reins back in the stable boy’s hands, tenderly petting the stallion’s neck and murmuring to him, before he marched towards the carriage. Abby hurriedly drew back and took her place against the far corner from the door, smoothing her skirt.

“Better this than me getting Ser Harrold,” she heard Wylla mutter, half in the carriage to glare at Aegon who was behind. “I’m not afraid of some pampered southern boy, dragonriding prince or no.”

Wylla gave her a smile as she climbed in and Abby stared at her in confusion while Aegon followed, throwing himself into the seat across from her as the door latched shut.

“Kostōba not so mighty today?” she asked, her hurt feelings demanding she needle him, even as her usual cheerful mask slid over her features. Aegon barely spared her a glance, pouting like a child instead of a man grown.

The carriage jerked as they headed through the gate and down the road. Wylla had turned her attention to unlatching the lattice covering on the window to peer out, the illusion of privacy appreciated. Aegon’s neck was as red as his shirt. He was clearly refusing to look at her and it wasn’t the first time he’d done this. In fact, Aegon had jumped from any casual touch she gave for the past few months. It was why they hadn’t ridden on Sunfyre together until they’d gone flying on the picnic and he’d apologized to her. Where she’d kissed him. In the subsequent weeks, between kisses she’d stolen because it was her stealing all the kisses, and dragging Aegon behind blind corners, although he never complained.

“I meant it, you know. That you look handsome today.” While she didn’t mind silence, she didn’t like this silence. The type where it felt like there were teeth along the edges, chewing into it if they weren’t careful. “I don’t know why that seems to have offended you so much.” The words came out a little harsher than she meant, her arms wrapped around herself and her gaze turned away.

“It didn’t offend me. I just thought that you’d like some privacy.” There was a crack at the edge of Aegon’s voice and it drew her gaze to the prince. Her betrothed. The one who tasted like whatever sweets he’d stolen from her, and whose hands felt like they’d swallow her whole, so hot that she could feel them through the layers of her gowns.

Abby turned from the window to look at him and met his gaze. Not as black as it had been in the hall. His eyes always went dark when she kissed him, so she knew that it was supposed to be a good thing, and she couldn’t understand why he was acting like this. She had been agonizing for days about this. She had just been lamenting to Wylla and Helaena about this and thought ‘This is just silly, Aegon cares for me, look at how he watched me come down the stairs’ but his mercurial behavior was nearly as bad as his mother’s.

The comparison was on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she met his lilac gaze with her own, blue eyes fixed upon his face, and said, “One moment, your hands are in my hair, and you look at me like I’m some sort of salvation or that you want to devour me. The next moment, like just now, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Lady Wylla had to threaten you to get in here-”

“She did no such-”

“I absolutely did,” Wylla interrupted. “Oh, wait, I’m not supposed to be listening.”

Aegon’s mouth snapped shut, and Abby didn’t glance over at the other side of the carriage. She kept her eyes on his. “If you don’t want me, then we’ll turn the carriage around and tell your mother.” She smoothed her hands over her skirt and took a deep breath. She was worried that tears would threaten, but her eyes remained mercifully clear and she raised her eyebrows at him. Aegon was staring at her, the pout faded from his sullen expression to look wide eyed in surprise. “We can. You can stop this. It’ll fade away, only just a rumor. A dalliance. There is no shame in being a prince’s momentary plaything, since we haven’t… I kissed you first, after all. I have only ever kissed you first and I will not let you keep doing this to me-”

One second, Aegon was frozen in his seat staring at her, the next, his hands grabbed hers and yanked her to him. Abby fell into him with the rocking of the carriage, and before she could straighten herself, Aegon kissed her.

Aegon kissed her first.

One large hand wound around her back while the other cradled the back of her head, his fingers tangled in the hair that escaped her veil. His mouth wasn't as soft as it had been before, this time moving as if he would claim her here in this carriage. She gasped when he tightened his hold against her, and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue between her parted lips, to curl it behind her teeth. She swallowed his sigh, her fingers bunching up the soft, red linen of his shirtsleeves.

Wylla’s presence was forgotten. All that existed was the way Aegon was kissing her like he was starving, as if someone had tried to take her from him - like in a song, like she was the source of every breath he needed. When they finally parted, Aegon tilted his head back against the side of the carriage, watching her with half lidded eyes and his mouth smeared with coral lip paint.

He hummed and she could feel it vibrate through her and she found herself humming in return, still holding herself with her grip on his arms. “I’ll fight anyone who suggests you’re a mere dalliance,” he said with his voice heavy. Abby reached up to cup his chin and stroke her thumb along where the color had smeared, wiping it away.

“So you’ll fight yourself, Your Grace?” She couldn’t help but point out that kissing her senseless was well and good, but her heart still felt sore and confused by his treatment.

Aegon scoffed and drew her closer with his fingers still cradling her head. She felt warm, and soft, and the sound that escaped her was equally so - a little mewl and a question she didn’t have the words to voice but that he seemed to understand because he licked along her cupid’s bow, teasing her and nipping at the swollen pout of her lower lip. “This is why I am the way I am, hunītsos.”

“I don’t understand,” she murmured with a shake of her head. Aegon’s fingers tightened briefly and drew a soft gasp from her when his grip tugged at her scalp. She shivered and his eyes glanced down to her low neckline, his teeth scraping over his own lower lip like he wanted to bury her face between her breasts. The understanding of why Wylla was in the carriage with them nudged at her, because had they been alone, Abby didn’t think she would even deny him. In fact, she thought she might even invite him to do so.

“What don’t you understand?” he asked and his fingers slowly loosened from her hair and pet her curls back into place before drawing his fingers slowly down her jaw and along her hammering pulse in her throat. “Do you not understand how badly I crave you? Because I thought that I made it abundantly clear.”

She blushed and shook her head. His thumb stroked along the front of her throat and she stilled, the weight and warmth of his hand making her tremble, the ache in her breasts taking her aback. “Sometimes, maybe. I’ve felt very…” She tried to find the words amidst her shyness. “I’ve felt like I’ve been chasing you, that I desire you more than you do for me.”

The wicked smirk she adored cut across his plump mouth and he squeezed her throat gently, pulling a gasp from her. “Abrogail Strong, I desire and crave you to madness and if I let myself go, I fear that I won’t keep myself from devouring you whole.”

Helaena pretended not to notice that there was a smudge of what looked like strawberry jam on the corner of little Floris’ mouth. Instead, her eyes took in the way one of the girl’s black braids was a little looser than the other. It lacked symmetry in a way that made her fingers itch to fix it. The girl’s dark eyes were wide with excitement and she could hardly keep still - a grasshopper bouncing on her feet and trying as hard as she could to contain herself in their presence. It did little to stop her from darting her gaze around, little mouth parted in wonder. She supposed the Red Keep was a magnificent sight to one who’d never seen it up close like this, let alone on dragonback.

Helaena’s lavender eyes slid to the elder girl.

Cassandra, the eldest of Lord Borros’ daughters, was more sedate in her observations. She did not share the same bubbling excitement as her little sister, and the black traveling gown she wore underscored the radical differences between her and the butter yellow clad Floris. Despite outer appearances, there was a blatant curiosity in her gaze as she took in the bustle of the courtyard; the Baratheon caravan had arrived ahead of the ladies, and the last of the trunks had just been carried inside to their new lodgings. Now it was courtiers and guardsmen, and servants all.

She felt Cassandra’s eyes fall on her critically, not unlike other ladies at court. Helaena had grown used to their gazes and the fact she did not fit the mold of a princess. She was not vibrant the way stories of her elder sister painted her - The Realm’s Delight, laughing and shining and riding and dancing. Helaena was quiet, far preferring the solitude of the garden to being in crowds, but she made every effort to be nice, to be friendly, and while she’d never heard a whisper about some perceived cruelty, Helaena felt as if she couldn’t quite get it.

She could not mirror the way Cassandra Baratheon looked to her, a golden necklace made up of antlers around her regal throat - a look that even a good week in a carriage could not take away how utterly put together she appeared..

How much of a princess she looked.

‘Sharp and soothing,’ Helaena thought. ‘The mint winds and chokes like ivy. The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.’

She blinked, shifting, and her shoulder brushed against Aemond’s where he was a warm presence beside her. His mouth was pressed in his usual stern expression, but at her movement, he lifted a hand to touch between her shoulder blades.

It was moments like these where Helaena felt most grateful for Aemond. Not when he was railing about their future together, the one that he’d decided and she didn’t deny, or about his place in life. It was the softer moments, when it felt like before: before the loss of his eye, before Vhagar, when it felt like her brother was there beside her once more. Quiet in his companionship, unwavering in his support, near supernatural in his understanding of her.

This was the Aemond she missed. The Aemond she cared for, the Aemond who was so absent.

Emboldened by the moment, Helaena straightened, a smile soft on her face. She did not need a crown or a herald to announce her place.

“It is our pleasure to welcome you both to King’s Landing. I hope that your journey wasn’t too difficult,” Helaena said, pushing past the urge to scream nonsense and make scary faces at them both to send them running all the way back to Storm’s End.

“We saw a bear!” Floris exclaimed with bright excitement. “Didn’t we, Cass? It was huge! I thought the guards were going to kill it, but they managed to chase it -”

“What my sister means to say is that the journey had its moments, but thankfully was uneventful, your Graces,” Cassandra cut in, a hand placed on the younger’s shoulder and a smooth curtsy performed. Her voice wasn’t unkind, but perhaps the long journey had made Lady Cassandra less tolerable to her younger sister’s excitement.

“Hmmm,” Aemond said, and Helaena smiled. Floris’ gaze was darting back from Aemond’s face to Helaena’s hands and she felt her brother shift beside her uncomfortably. “If you’ll follow us, we’ll take you to her grace, Queen Alicent, to be greeted.” Floris’ eyes went wide and Aemond was already turning on his polished boot to lead the way.

Cassandra’s own eyes widened some, her hands spasming against her skirts before reaching for Floris’ hand, jerking her behind. “Come along and don’t gawk,” she hissed softly, and Floris whined in response, a grumbling, “Not so tight, Cassa.” Helaena pursed her lips and followed Aemond, leading the pair.

It was, amusingly enough, Cassandra who let out the first quiet gasp entering the entry hall to Maegor’s Holdfast. The ceiling rose up so high that it was obscured with shadow. It was the early afternoon and the place was bustling with courtiers and administrators, all giving Aemond wide berth as he cut a path like a shark through the water.

“Your rooms will be within the ladies apartments,” Aemond explained when they reached the second landing. He paused, gesturing to the right. “It’s where the unmarried attendants of our mother’s stay.” His voice was even and steady, ever the proper one, ever the confident speaker. Ever everything, that was Aemond. Yet it rankled her that he would take charge of this when it should be her.

‘He’s only trying to protect you’, Helaena thought and while he was good at that, while she was grateful for it, Mother did the same. Everyone did the same.

“However, since you shall be serving me,” Helaena said, raising her voice and plastering a smile on her face, remembering that smiles could be heard in voices, “And Lady Abrogail, you shall come to us in the mornings for duties once things are settled. No need to worry about that now.”

Floris nodded excitedly, but her sister looked on more sedately, her expression polite. “Is it possible to have our own rooms until you… have everything sorted?” She asked. “I hope you can appreciate that given our station and our familial connection, such things would be appropriate.”

Familial connection? Helaena thought. She did not look at Aemond, not needing him to think he had to step in for her.

“I appreciate your concerns, Lady Cassandra. If you are concerned about your sleeping arrangements, you may bring it up with our mother, the Queen.” Helaena smoothed her hands over the soft pink of her skirt and gestured for them to follow. “This way!” Her voice rang through the hall and she fell in step beside Aemond, head held high.

Wylla stepped on her heels again with a half-distracted ‘sorry’ that Abby waved off, again. King’s Landing was bursting with activity that threatened to rival the crowds that were sure to arrive in the next moon for Aegon’s nameday tournament. The festival was to go on for a fortnight at least, as apprentices across the guilds presented their masterpieces to be judged and reviewed. It meant that the stalls were filled to bursting and more had sprung up in every nook and cranny and side street of the city. From finely woven fabrics and dyes, to ropes and carefully crafted saddles, the market was bright and loud with the calls of commerce.

Aegon’s right hand gripped her left, fingers entwined, and kept her between him and the stalls rather than risk losing one another in the stream of traffic down the center lane. They paused in front of a smith, the heat of the forge not as uncomfortable in the heat of the city for the breeze that kicked through.

“Oh, he’s a handsome one,” Wylla murmured, and Abby followed her gaze to the handsome smith covered in sweat and black soot, his linen shirt soaked, his arms bulging with the effort of hammering. Abby giggled softly, humming in agreement. She glanced at Aegon, who was perusing over the line of daggers on display, and noticed his own gaze flicking towards the blacksmith with clear appreciation.

Abby hummed and leaned over to brush her mouth against his ear. “Do you think he’s prettier than me?” she whispered.

Aegon didn’t glance at her, he didn’t even pause in his dual inspection of the merchandise nor the man before him. His tongue darted out, pink and wet, to slide along his lower lip in thought as he reached for another dagger. “I think he’s taller than you, which has its own advantages, especially with those shoulders,” he told her softly, tapping the hilt of the dagger. “Open, I want to see if it fits you.” She held out her free hand - she still hadn’t let go of his and he had not let go of hers - and he pressed the dagger into her palm, instructing her to wrap her fingers around it. “Sometimes one needs a good handling.”

Abby’s gaze flicked up at him, Aegon’s lilac eyes fixed on adjusting her grip. “I don’t usually hold a dagger like this. Aemond did teach me properly. Also, are you implying that I couldn’t give you a good handling?”

“I don’t think you are big enough to pick me up over your shoulder and slam me down on something.” Aegon’s lilac gaze met hers from beneath the soft bits of silver hair hanging in his eyes and he pulled the dagger from her grasp and set it back down. Even as she blushed, Abby didn’t look away. She smiled prettily at him instead and was pleased when he grinned back. She liked this side of him. No, she adored this side of him. The way he flirted, and held onto her, and the way it felt as easy as breathing between them like it always had. Only now, her gaze was more obviously drawn to that infernal tongue of his that kept swiping along his lower lip.

He was doing it on purpose. She was sure of it.

“I feel like you’re challenging me, Your Grace. Must I also now throw myself in the training yard and hope that I grow as big and strong as my brother? I think you’ll be sorely disappointed.” Aegon snorted and picked up another dagger. This one had an ebony handle carved with grooves for the fingers to fit and a thick silver inlay that encircled it and along the guard. “I don’t need a dagger,” she protested when he had her hold it and frowned at the fit.

“You see,” he murmured, releasing his hold on her hand and having her properly adjust her grip. “I already know you can handle me, my Lady. I think you’re a natural at it, even small as you are. But if you’d like to be handled, be exposed to new ways of doing things…new techniques…” He trailed off and made an approving sound at how she was holding the weapon. Somehow it made her flush all the more. “I’m at your service to give you whatever demonstration you desire.”

He met her eyes then, mouth twitched in a slight grin, but she saw the nervous look in his gaze.

Abby pushed up on her toes to press a kiss on his smirking mouth and drew away before either of them had a chance to deepen it. “I’ve been told I’m a very astute learner, and I always like to learn new things, especially with demonstrations.” Flushed, she reached for Wylla who was still admiring the blacksmith and took her hand. “We’re going to look at the fabrics over here.”

She’d much rather they do that than make a scene in front of the attractive blacksmith.

“If you two wanted privacy, then we’ll find it. I’ll stand guard outside the carriage door. Or, he’s the prince, I’m sure he can just get a room somewhere.” Wylla’s look was innocent and compassionate when Abby looked over her shoulder to glare at her, cheeks flushed red. “You know, people like us don’t marry for love often, but if you have that with one another, there’s no shame in being so affectionate before marriage.” Wylla nudged her shoulder against hers while they plucked at the delicate spools of ribbons and carefully embroidered lace.

“Being accosted in front of the blacksmith is something I’d hardly call simple affection,” Abby said.

“Weren’t you only just complaining that he didn’t accost you?”

“I need to find another word for that, and yes, I know I was! That’s not what I mean.” Abby ran a length of silky, vibrant green ribbon through her fingers, and tried to find shades of red and blue to match. “I just mean there’s a difference between doing it in public! And…”

“And?” Wylla prompted, plucking up a spool of black linen thread in hand.

“And I simply get very flustered. That’s all.” She reached into her the small purse hanging off her arm to retrieve the delicate fabric samples the seamstress had brought the previous week. “I need embellishments to go with this.”

“Oh,” Wylla breathed and ran her fingers gently over the ivory satin. “Abby, these are lovely.”

“Do you think so?” She held the pieces up to the spools of lace. “I’m half tempted to simply make my own lace but that feels so extravagant and excessive.”

Wylla clucked her tongue. “Must I remind you again, Lady Strong, that you are marrying Aegon Targaryen, Prince of the Realm? You will become a princess on your wedding day. You should have extravagance and excess because if you don’t have it for that occasion, what occasion will you allow it?” Her voice was not quiet and Abby noticed the pair of girls managing the stall perk up from where they were attending to another lady and her daughter at the mention of marrying Aegon Targaryen. The other customers looked at her as well, and Abby smiled politely back and resumed her perusal of the lace embellishments. She let her veil fall forward enough to hide some of her face, uncomfortable with the attention now that Aegon was not distracting her, moving easily through the crowds as if he were born for it.

That’s because he was born for it, she reminded herself.

“These look a bit like dragon scales, don’t they?” Abby ran her thumb gently over the uniquely shaped scallops of soft lace, mind thinking of decorations and embellishments and appliques for the gown that they were making. So many Myrish knots to embroider. She knew there was more fabric on its way, and that the delicate and sought after Myrish lace would be beyond comparison but presented with what was before her, Abby’s mind turned in contemplation. “Excuse me, my lady.”

The woman did not appear much older than Wylla, with a shock of golden curls peeking out of her little white cap. She was the younger of the pair who were manning the booth, and she bobbed awkwardly behind the counter.

“I am no lady, milady,” she said, her accent a proud, Westerlands clip. “Neva, if you please. Is there anything that you like before you? This isn’t everything we have but-”

Abby smiled, raising a hand to slow the girl down. “Neva, is this all your work? It’s absolutely beautiful.”

She glowed as bright as her hair, nodding exuberantly. “It is, milady! I’ve been an apprentice for nigh on ten years. I’ve submitted my masterpiece for guild acceptance.”

She couldn’t help but keep smiling back at the excitement Neva shared and gestured for the threads that Wylla was picking up. “Well, I’ll take these, if you’d be so kind, as well as… well I don’t want to take the whole spool of this.” Abby pursed her lips.

In the pause, Neva continued. “I can also make custom pieces, should you need something particular, milady.” The girl blushed but pushed on. “I did hear you mentioning a wedding, but I wasn’t dropping eaves! So if there is something in particular you’re looking for.”

Abby hummed softly, fingers still holding the delicate spool of scalloped lace edging. “I would like that very much. If you have more samples, I want you to bring them to the castle a sennight from today. The seamstress is coming back to do a fitting and I would like to look at what we can make. Is that too soon?”

The blushing cheeks of the Westerland girl went pale before flushing even deeper and she looked as if she was about to burst like a Dornish fire flare right there in the street. “Milady, I don’t know what to say! Yes, yes I will certainly be there. Thank you…” She trailed off suddenly, eyes widening before dropping into a curtsy, followed by the other women behind the booth. Abby felt Aegon brush against her back as he leaned over her shoulder to pluck at the lace.

“Pretty,” he said. “Do you like them?”

She nodded. “I thought the-they would look nice for my wedding dress. Do you like them? I want you to like them.” Abby tilted her head to look at him, teeth catching at her lip while Aegon’s cheeks flushed lightly pink.

“Aye, I like them.” His voice was soft and he gestured to the lot, almost negligently. “And the ribbons? We’ll take it.” Aegon spared a look at the gaping Neva, plucking the bag of gold from Wylla’s hands and tossing it to the girl.

Abby blushed, glancing between the gaping girls and Aegon, who was already looking around. “Thank you, Neva,” she said, which seemed to pull the other girl from her shock and start plucking items. “I do hope this isn’t all of your hard work.”

“Oh, no, not at all, milady.” She was positively glowing. “Good fortune to be sure."

[Chapter Eight]

[ejunkiet]

new instincts

a little more of the dadvid fic hehehehe we’re getting FLUFFY.

redacted audio: davey/angel, rated teen, pregnancy mention.

Of course it would be Asher who clued in first.

READ ON AO3! | part one on tumblr

tag requests: @terrazaurio​ @interdimensional-chaos​

--

part two: new instincts

Of course it would be Asher who clued in first.

It’s only been a few days since their trip to the doctor’s office, confirming the pregnancy. Just over four weeks. Birth control failures were rare but not unheard of, their doctor had assured them, and the rest of the pregnancy should proceed as normal. Congratulations.

They’d been booked in for their next appointment in a month’s time, and that was that.

The rest of the week had almost felt like a dream. He’d taken a few days off from the office, leaving Asher in charge of running the daily ops while he focused on making plans and settling Angel back at home, even as they teased him about it.

(“It’s still early days, Davey. I’m perfectly able to make my own lunch, thank you very much.”)

It’s late on Friday after work, when Asher comes over to drop off some paperwork, that the secret comes out.

He’d called ahead to say that he’d be coming by - that he had some paperwork that needed David’s signature, that couldn’t wait until next week. He’d been late, but that also hadn’t been unexpected - he always was, unless it was a work event.

But then he'd taken one look at them, his head tilted to the side and nostrils flaring as he inhaled, before his eyes had widened and he’d nearly dropped the messenger bag he was carrying.

“Holy shit.”

A low growl rises from David’s throat before he can bite it back, his mate’s fingers twitching against their side as their eyes widen in turn. He can hear the skip of their heartbeat, their weight shifting from foot-to-foot before they release a snort.

“It’s that obvious?”

They lean into David and he shifts until they can fit more snugly against his side, his arm finding their waist as he resists the urge to flash his teeth at his beta. There’s an aggression in him that he’s not used to, his protective instincts rearing to the surface with Asher’s proximity to his mate.

It didn’t make any sense. This was his pack, his family. But the knowledge doesn’t satisfy his wolf, and it lingers just below the surface of his skin, the same way it had the rest of the week.

“David.” He blinks, glancing down to find his mate looking up at him expectantly, an amused smile playing on their lips, as if it’s not the first time they’ve called his name. “Why don’t we let him in? We can talk about this more inside.”

Right. Releasing a breath, he steps back, catching his beta’s eye. “You heard them. In.”

–

“So. What gave it away?”

Ash offers them a grin from where he’s perched on the far end of the sofa, all long limbs and sharp elbows, a hand running through the wild tangles of his hair.

“David. He smells all…” He trails off, his expression turning contemplative, before he shrugs, as if he can’t find a word for it. “It’s instinct. I can sense it. Probably could even if he wasn’t projecting like a grumpy papa wolf.”

David does flash his teeth this time and Asher snorts, raising both hands. “Look, it’s natural. I saw the same thing with my cousins. My dad’s brother, he got all kinds of territorial before he got his instincts back under control.”

Territorial. The pieces click into place, and shit.

David doesn’t lose control. Not like this. He can’t afford to, not in his role as alpha, and especially not at the expense of his pack. His mate feels him tense up - they’re too close not to - and they squeeze his hand, the contact grounding against the rising tide of guilt.

Asher notices the shift too, his brow creasing with confusion, before it clicks. “David- it’s natural. Something that everyone goes through.”

He takes a breath and holds it, feeling the weight of their eyes on him as he regains control of himself. “I’ll handle it.”

Asher’s still watching him, a twist to the soft curve of his mouth, before he nods. “Whatever you say, big guy.” His attention shifts to his mate then, and he offers them a grin. “How long have you known?”

They match his grin with one of their own, and the tension in the room eases. “Not long. We got it confirmed earlier this week.”

“It has been a long time since there’s been a new cub in the pack…” Asher’s eyes narrow in thought, focused on the floor where his socks clash terribly with the carpet beneath the coffee table, but he doesn’t miss the way Angel reacts to the moniker, flashing them a grin. “Cute, right?”

“Does this mean we’ll need to deck out the whole family in baseball gear?”

Asher snorts once, twice, before he doubles over with laughter, shaking so hard that he almost falls off the end of the couch. David drops his head into his hands, silently asking what he’d done to deserve this as he resists the urge to groan.

Angel sits through it all with a smug smile on their face, looking pleased with themself, and with a low growl, he tugs them closer, wrapping his arm snug around them until they’re pressed against his side.

When Ash can breathe again, he shakes his head. “Never change, little boss.”

Glancing at the clock, he pushes to his feet, offering them a crooked grin. “Looks like I’m out of time. I just wanted to drop off the paperwork and check in.”

“Ash.” David’s voice is a low warning as he makes to leave, but he waves him off.

“I won’t be telling anyone, big guy. Well. Except for my mate, that is.” David releases a low snort, some of the tension in him easing. Ash knew how to keep a secret, when it mattered. “But David… when it comes to the next pack meeting, you know that the rest of them will be able to tell, right?”

His tone is still light, but there’s a seriousness in his expression that he doesn’t show often as he glances at David, a wry smile on his lips.

David releases a slow breath, not missing the way his mate’s hand slips to his side, settling against his hip and squeezing. “I know.”

“Good.” He nods, before grinning again, bright enough to flash his teeth, the tension of the moment dissipating as quickly as it had come. “Keep us updated? Let us know if you need to push anything, we’d be cool with that.”

“We’ll do that,” Angel agrees, matching his grin easily. “Thanks, Ash.”

“Anytime.” He waves two of his fingers in a cheerful salute, his grin as wide as anything, before he heads towards the front door. “Take it easy, both of you.”

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving them both in a comfortable silence. It’s always like this after Asher leaves, a moment of calm, steady quiet after the hurricane of his presence.

Angel lets out a soft breath, squeezing his side briefly again before shifting back to catch his gaze. There’s a gleam in their eye that he recognises, one that promises trouble.

“So. Wolves prefer baseball to basketball, then?”