#happy comfortable not a thought or concern

[2tarbell]

vanilla birthday cake — send some dialogue 4 a short drabble with rafe + any of my !readers

mean!rafe + crybaby!reader “i don’t wanna know”

HAKSJSKSJKS

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

rafe had had just about enough. he wasn’t very patient to begin with but he was trying to be better — for her.

his poor little girlfriend that had a never ending supply of sorrow and tears. normally, around him, she was content as could be. and he was happy to indulge her and be the one to soothe her when external factors hurt her sensitive heart.

but she just wouldn’t stop crying.

today, she had to have set a new record. whimpering away next to him while rafe tried to get some work done on his computer. she knew better than to interrupt him when he was working, but crybaby just needed some attention. some love.

what if he was all quiet ‘cause he realized how annoying she was? what if—

“okay, what’s a-matter?”

her watery eyes flickered up to his deep blue and thundering ones.

rafe stared at her impatienty — fingers poised as if about to start typing. but his eyes held a question in them. an intensity that makes crybaby shrink into herself, eyes shifting and babbling for an answer while her shaky hands played with the buttons on her shirt.

“wha—? oh, um, s’nothing…”

not a good liar, but even worse at holding eye contact. rafe huffed and closed the laptop abruptly. he spread his legs further, setting the device somewhere beside him. she could be so difficult sometimes.

“kid, you’re over there, sniffin’ and shit — what’s the problem?” his voice was gruff and low, but so familiar and comforting in its own way. running a hand over his buzzed head in a way that always sent her heart racing.

“well, uh, i— i jus’— um…” the stuttered words came out clumsily, not a coherent thought in her head as she stared wide eyed at him. tears began to well anew.

“okay, okay— shut up. i don’t wanna know anymore, jus’— c’mere.”

god, she looked dumb with that look on her face. all frozen and tense as he tries to coax her closer. like a deer and a hunter.

rafe tilts his head to the side, a small smirk settling on his lips. he sees the moment she relaxes; eyes still wet and lip still trembling but she’s scooting closer nonetheless.

he scoops crybaby into his lap, strong arms circling her and pulling her into his chest. rafe sighs like it’s hard work — but the concerned furrow of his brow says otherwise.

she’s still sniffing, nuzzling her face further and further into his chest as she straddles him. trying to disappear fully into his warmth and affection. it’s like just being in his arms sends her into a daze. it’s made worse by his hand pulling her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

her rafe. that soft mumble only she’s privy to. his gentleness entirely reserved for her, for her moments of need. yet, she loves when he’s mean to her — in that dirty, knowing way he is. when her heart just feels so heavy and she doesn’t wanna think anymore. she craves that fuzziness only he can make her feel, a warmth pooling in her underwear. she needs it.

her voice is meek and barely audible when she huffs, “i jus’— today was so—”

rafe rolls his eyes, but tugs her closer. pressing firm kisses to her hairline and letting her ramble on about all the hard things she went through. she doesn’t register his wandering hands. it’s only when his fingertips are breaching her lace panties when she finally notices how he’s pushed her skirt up.

“hmf— rafey—”

her slickness makes a groan vibrate through his chest, fingers pressing forward until he’s prodding at that spongey spot just right. crybaby is hiccuping and sniffling again — eyes pitifully squeezed shut from the intrusion.

“shuddap, let daddy do this, yeah? getchu to stop whinin’ for once.”

based off this little thing i wrote!!!

[hiraethwrote]

cw gn!reader but written with f!reader in mind, angst, no comfort, breakup, pining, minor clubbing wc: <1k an i'm on my period which is making me a little emotional, which resulted in this

ex!suguru will never truly be over you, convinced you’re the one that got away.

the breakup was “mutual”, emphasis on the quotation marks — it only meant you guys ended on good terms. it was a very quiet and tender scene. he holds your hands in his, slowly his thumb strokes across your knuckles, never letting his eyes leave your tear stained face.

ex!suguru who, despite disagreeing wholeheartedly with the decision, sees it’s for the best. he will forever hate himself for being unable to see it coming, unable to stop it — one day he suddenly notices how staying in the relationship brought you more turmoil than joy, and he didn't have the heart to hold onto you even though he so desperately wanted to. but he would ruin himself million times over for you

“it’ll be okay,” he says softly, letting himself indulge in the small acts that come so naturally to him one last time before he has to let go, hand reaching up to dry your tears and cupping your cheek. “i’ll be okay.”

with the quiet promise, he feels the stress leave your body and you rest against his touch, a sad smile painting your lips — you’re so beautiful, he thinks.

ex!suguru who lies because he knows it's what you need to hear. you had already stayed longer than you wanted because you didn’t want to hurt him. he wasn’t surprised. you were just so considerate, through and through. he had always thought the relationship was too good to be true anyways, never truly feeling worthy of you

ex!suguru who doesn’t cry, but that is because he feels numb. he can’t remember feeling a pain as intense as this one.

when your tears have stopped, only shy sniffles escaping you, he comes with one last confession. “i’m always going to love you.” he waits, hoping you would say it in return. it isn’t because you don’t love him anymore that you can’t keep going, it’s just because it isn’t working.

“i know,” you say quietly and his heart shatters.

ex!suguru who has his friends fooled because they think he is over the relationship already. he acts the same, eats the same and goes about his business the same — but that’s because it doesn’t concern anyone other than the two of you.

first weekend as a single man, gojo forces him to go out clubbing with him. he really doesn’t want to, but he can’t give his friend any excuses he will accept.

he hates every moment of it, rudely shutting down anyone that approaches him. no matter how attractive, no matter how charismatic, no matter how willing — they’re not you so what’s the point?

ex!suguru who hates the universe a little more than usual. despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to escape you entirely. and he swears he tries, but you somehow just appear every now and then.

he spots you in the grocery store, doing your daily shopping. he spots you in the line of the coffeehouse, ordering your usual drink (one he knows by heart). he sees you on every feed, posting pictures and updates of your life — you seem happy.

his heart screams for him to surrender to his desires, to approach you and hear your voice again. but he knows better, so after torturing himself by admiring you for a few seconds, he simply turns on his heel and leaves.

ex!suguru who after years still thinks about you as much as the day you left. he has tried to move on, but it feels like a betrayal, even after all this time.

has he healed? sure, a little. life goes on after all. with time he has been reunited with some sense of happiness. however it could never compare to the period of his life where he was so fortunate to be with you.

ex!suguru runs into you after nine years. and not like all the times he has simply noticed you down the street — no, you fully crash into his chest one day while walking out of a bakery.

to say he is surprised is an understatement. he has memorised all the places you used to visit so this exact scenario wouldn’t happen, and this had never been a chain you had set foot in before. but a lot changes in nine years.

“suguru, hi.” your voice is light, a rhythm in it that was not present at the end of your relationship. “wow, crazy running into you. how have you been?”

“good,” he croaks, eyes glued to your face. he still finds you as ethereal as the day you left. he wants to say more, but he is a little unsettled by how at peace you seem to be despite not being with him. “and you?”

it doesn’t go unnoticed how you present yourself as genuinely content with where you are in life. however, suguru goes through the entire heartbreak all over again — he has missed so much of your life. he used to think he would be along side you for every single moment of it. instead he is stood in front of you and feeling as if the walls are closing in on him.

his breath catches when you stretch out your hand to grab his forearm. “it was really great seeing you again,” you muse. it’s probably just wishful thinking, but he believes he hears a sadness in your voice that comes from missing him.

“you too,” he whispers, and you’re gone again.

ex!suguru who eventually comes to terms with just being alone again. before you, he always imagined this was how it would end, not the person made to share his life with someone.

you had obviously made him believe otherwise. with you by his side, waking up next to someone and sharing your meals didn’t seem so silly anymore.

but it turns out he only wanted those things if it was with you.

tags @sad-darksoul ﾉ @madaqueue ﾉ @toadtoru ﾉ @hiraethwa ﾉ @harperluvgojo

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[nhlclover]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇(𝐄𝐃) 𝐏𝐓.𝟐 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: a year later, quinn finally learns about what transpired between his brother and his girlfriend

warnings: none really, trevor being a little shit, maybe a little awkward

word count: 1.15k

note: this is a part two to this fic! i recommend reading that before you read this one :)

Luke pulled into the driveway, slotting his car between Jack and Quinn’s. The lakehouse stood timeless as ever, nestled against the sparkling blue of the water, framed by the tall, swaying pines. Everything looked the same, but it felt different for Luke.

It had been a full year since that summer — the summer that left him reeling with a storm of emotions he had barely been able to handle. Luke had spent the year distancing himself from those emotions, trying to forget how he’d spent the entire summer prior trying to avoid you, while simultaneously longing to be around you. The ache had faded with time and distance, and, the crush that had once felt all-consuming had faded to a mere flicker.

Now, as the familiar smell of pine and sun-warmed wood greeted him, Luke felt a strange mix of nostalgia and apprehension. He hoped that being here again wouldn’t bring back those old feelings, especially since you and Quinn were still as strong as ever.

He brought his bags into the house, the quiet environment signalling that everyone was out back. Luke dropped them in his room, heading to the back deck. On the dock, he spotted you slotted under Quinn’s arm, the two of you watching the sun begin to dip below the horizon. Luke felt himself smile, genuinely happy for the two of you. Happy that both of you had found someone so perfect for one another. This thought felt like a breath of fresh air.

The first couple weeks of summer were surprisingly easy. You all fell into the familiar rhythms of summer — long days on the water, games of volleyball and football, and late-night bonfires accompanied by laughter and jokes. Luke felt comfortable around you, the awkwardness from last year had dissolved, and he genuinely enjoyed your company now that his emotions weren’t a tangled-up knot.

One night you found yourselves gathered around the firepit, everyone laughing and joking as you played a game of truth or dare. The flames crackled, casting flickering shadows on everyone’s faces, and the air was warm with the scent of burning wood and the distant scent of the lake. A couple rounds of the game had brought out embarrassing stories like Cole telling everyone about the time he fell into a pond in front of his middle school crush and the completion of ridiculous dares, such as jumping into the freezing cold lake. The round turned to Trevor, who’s eyes narrowed on Luke.

“Alright, Luke,” Trevor smirked. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Luke replied, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous question he knew Trevor was about to ask.

Trevor leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “Do you still have a crush on y/n?”

Everyone fell silent, the atmosphere tensing. Luke’s eyes went wide, his heart skipping a beat as every single pair of eyes turned toward him. He stared at Trevor, momentarily at a loss for words, then shifted his gaze to you, sitting on Quinn’s lap wrapped in his arms. You looked just as startled as he did, but quickly shook your head, your eyes pleading with him.

“I didn’t say anything to anyone, I swear,” you promised him.

Quinn, who had briefly tuned out as he scrolled on his phone, looked up, completely caught off guard by the question. “Wait, what? Since when did you like her?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he glanced at Luke.

Luke cleared his throat, trying to appear nonchalant, though his heart was hammering in his chest. “It was a thing last summer, but it’s over now. She actually helped me get over it.” He shot you a grateful smile, hoping that would end the discussion.

“You knew?” Quinn turned to you, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. “It was no biggie, babe. I just reassured him that we were in love and that he needed to get over it.” You laughed softly, your tone lighthearted, but your eyes flickered with a touch of worry as you glanced at Quinn.

Quinn’s eyes searched your face, and though he tried to keep his cool, a flicker of worry crossed his features. “You sure you’re over it, Luke?”

“Absolutely,” Luke replied firmly. “I swear, it was just a stupid crush. It’s done.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely over it,” Jack chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “He hooked up with some girl like… a bunch of times during the winter. Right, Luke?”

Luke shot Jack a look of disbelief, but it actually worked to diffuse the tension. Quinn’s shoulders relaxed, and a teasing grin spread across his face. “Scoring on and off the ice… nice.”

Luke chuckled, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, feeling the tips of his ears burning at Jack revealing that secret. The chorus of laughter from the group faded softly.

“Wait, Trevor, how did you know that Luke had a crush on me?” you asked, curious as no one had told anyone else about the goings of last summer.

Trevor sat up, clearly relishing his moment. “I mean, come on. You avoided her like she had the plague, but then couldn’t stop staring at her every time she walked by. You’d freeze up whenever she talked to you, and don’t even get me started on that time you nearly burned the burgers on the barbeque because you were too distracted watching her by the lake.”

Luke’s face was bright red now, and you were laughing with the others, though your eyes were soft and understanding. “It wasn’t that obvious, was it?” Luke groaned, half-laughing, half-horrified.

Quinn threw his head back, laughing. “That’s what that was? I just thought you hated her.”

You joined in, nodding in agreement. “Same! I thought he couldn’t stand me.”

Everyone laughed, the tension from the past evaporating in the cool night air. Luke ran a hand through his hair, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I was in deep shit last summer,” he confessed, shaking his head. “Like, the deepest shit I could possibly be in.”

Quinn shook his head, his smirk growing. "Man, I’m never letting you live this down."

Luke rolled his eyes, however he was relieved that the tension had eased and that the past crush was finally out in the open and behind him. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead and tease me. I deserve it.”

The game moved on, and so did the night, filled with more laughter, dares, and ridiculous truths. Luke felt something settle inside him, a sense of closure he didn’t realize he’d needed. As the fire crackled and the moon shone down on the lake, he finally felt free – free to be himself, free to be around you, and most importantly, free to enjoy the summer for what it was: a chance to make new memories and let go of the old ones.

[say-al0e]

Want You

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Aegon had no desire to ruin you, so he buried himself in his favorite wine and favorite whores to keep his blossoming feelings at bay. Only, his efforts seemed to work too well and he has to convince you that you’re all he needs. Warnings: No Dance AU, inaccurate use of some characters (Tyrell was an infant during this time but here he's in his early 30s), two smut scenes (Aegon is a dick in the first, much better in the second), infidelity (Aegon), Targcest (Aemond x Helaena), nice guy Criston Cole, unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), miscommunication. Anything else, let me know and I'll tag. Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!Reader (Manderly!Reader - no features mentioned) Word Count: 22.8k (....I'm so sorry) HotD Taglist | HotD Masterlist

The Red Keep was rarely, if ever, silent.

There were moments - fleeting, few and far between - where a hush befell the Keep with only the quiet noise of servants and guards dutifully moving about to shatter the illusion of solitude. But, no matter the hour, it was rare to find a silence so unbroken that it teetered on the edge of maddening.

However, as Aegon sat in your chambers for the first time in weeks, slouched in a chair adjacent to the couch you lounged on, you found the silence drawing on long enough to surpass discomfort and edge into pain.

Aegon - sobriquet still undecided, though he’d dismissed ‘The Magnanimous’ the moment you frowned as he spoke it, the moment Aemond snickered - sat with a cup of wine in one hand as he used the other to flip the pages of a book. It was one you’d left on the table, brought to you by Aemond and next on your list to read, and you hoped Aegon couldn’t see the way you winced every time wine sloshed a bit too close to the text for comfort.

As silence persisted, there was little doubt that the reason for his presence was his mother’s insistence.

Alicent, as well intentioned as you imagined her to be - and, where you and Helaena were concerned, she seemed to be truly well intentioned - chided him relentlessly these days. Since he became king, there was no end to her and Otto’s lectures. They urged him to play his part as faithfully as you played your own, to act as your husband and try to keep from embarrassing you. Time and again, you heard Alicent’s furious whispers, instructing her eldest son to think of the shame he continued to bring upon you, but you knew as well as she did that the time for his acquiescence had passed.

Everyone knew the kind of husband Aegon was, the kind of man he’d grown to be.

Though there was little chance he might, it he would have thought to ask you for your opinion -  as he once did in the earliest days of your marriage - you wondered if you would’ve been able to stop yourself from sharing the sobriquet you chose but did not dare speak aloud; Aegon the Shameless.

Despite becoming Queen Consort, looks of awe and excitement had shifted into looks of pity that burned into your skin each time you found yourself in court. There were few who did not know where your husband spent his nights - in the throne room, deep in his cups and surrounded by idiot guards and naive squires; or, perhaps, lost in the streets of silk, deep inside one of his favorite whores. The only boundary he seemed to respect was that now his trysts were kept from the Keep, his whores bedded elsewhere.

Though eleven moons had passed since you were married, he’d shared your bed only a handful of times. Once, on your wedding night, to consummate the marriage; a drunken attempt or two at creating the heir the realm demanded; and once, not long ago, when he stumbled into your chambers by mistake and couldn’t be roused to move until morning.

Yet, as much as you hated to admit it and as unbelievably foolish as it made you feel, you’d somehow grown to love him.

In the very beginning, you had hope that your marriage might be a happy one.

Aegon was not perfect, you knew that. But for all his faults, he was kind to you in the light of day. The cruelty you caught glimpses of, the derision and bursts of anger, was never leveled at you. In fact, it often seemed that you were the only person he deemed worthy of sparing his unpredictable moods. He softened whenever you entered a room and made an attempt at levity. Though there were whispers of his sharp tongue and quick temper, you saw little of it.

The words he leveled at you were often kind - compliments, jests - and, if not kind, at least cordial. He gifted you beautiful gowns, glittering jewelry, perfumed soaps and oils, and allowed your youngest sister and a cousin to serve as your companions, all the while remaining very far from them himself.

When you chose to eat your meals outside of your own chambers, he kept you near and included you in the conversation at hand, no matter how little attention you paid. When decisions were made, he seemed to take your counsel more seriously than anyone else’s - save, perhaps, Aemond’s. When you took your daily walk around the gardens, he joined as often as he could, though he typically fell behind you and your companions and departed halfway through to return to the small council.

During the early days of your marriage, you spent a great deal of time seeking him out. Whatever moments he could spare for you were cherished and you treated them as gifts worth more than anything gold could buy. As far as you were concerned, Aegon was trying his best. You knew that his reign was young, that he was young, and took no offense to his frequent absences.

Though much and more of your time was spent with others - your companions, Helaena, Alicent, even Aemond - Aegon was present. Time alone with him, however, was scarce. And, despite Alicent’s repeated assurances that his absence was merely a matter of his duty to the Realm, you began to believe the truth was much simpler.

Aegon simply did not wish to be alone with you.

Of all the things Aegon had done to, according to Alicent, bring shame upon you, none hurt quite so much as the realization that you were nothing more than an accessory to his reign.

Much like his crown, you were only there to solidify his status as king.

Despite the fondness you sometimes felt from him, you realized very quickly that Aegon did not want to be married. He had been forced to wed and you were the least offensive choice. You were nothing more than a pawn chosen by his grandsire for the strength of your house, and meant to be nothing more than an acceptable queen to stand beside the king.

Still, the realization was one you struggled to make sense of.

Affection was, at least in the beginning, a somewhat regular occurrence. Though you did not lie together, he never turned down a kiss or a soft caress of your hand. If anything, he sought those fleeting gestures out. He also seemed to favor the soft press of your hand to his thigh beneath the table - a calming gesture, offered whenever his grandsire or another council member undermined his authority - or a gentle squeeze of his hand more than anything.  And, for a while, even initiated the gestures himself.

There were moments when Aegon seemed to make an honest attempt at being a husband.

Though he did not spend much time with you alone, he sometimes sat with you in the evenings as you and your ladies sipped tea. He sought your company when settled amongst a crowd, standing close and smiling every time you caught his eye. He remembered the little details you shared with him and asked about things you’d only mentioned in passing as a thousand other conversations carried on around you.

The first time you wore the green of his house, he complimented your gown and granted you a brilliant smile with each green gown that followed. When you passed him in the halls, one of you rushing to someplace else, he would always catch your eye and allow his hand to graze yours.

Thus, for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe the hollow reassurances.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe that you truly meant something to Aegon. The bitter sting of rejection, of humiliation, that accompanied his lack of desire to see you alone - his near refusal to bed you, unless he’d drowned in his cups and found himself on the receiving end of a lecture from his mother - was rationalized away.

It was easy, for a time, for you to believe that you simply meant more to him. Whores were meant to be bedded, a way for men to rid themselves of frustration - something a king had in spades. You told yourself that Aegon’s distance was a kindness, a form of respect. Your affection meant more to him than your ability to warm his bed. And for longer than you cared to admit, you allowed yourself to believe it; to love him, despite it.

Only, the lie grew harder to believe with each moon that passed.

Gradually, the little affection Aegon seemed to hold for you began to fade and the distance between you grew. While his visits to the streets of silk were few and far between in the early days of your marriage, the longer you were wed, the louder the whispers that he’d resumed his trips grew.

With every whisper came a lecture from Alicent, from Otto, from Aemond. And with every lecture, the more eager Aegon seemed to disappear into the deepest corner of his favored brothel.

One by one, every ounce of Aegon’s affection and attention seemed to disappear. The lingering glances he’d once spared in the halls, the brilliant smiles he leveled you with when you opted to join the family for dinner, the soft caresses of your hand when he passed you in the halls; they were no more and your heart ached with each disappearance.

Soon came the day of realization; if you did not offer affection, you received none.

After the passage of seven moons, it became obvious that Aegon merely tolerated. While he may once have even  liked you, with the passage of each moon, you came to realize and accept that he did not love you.

While you found yourself grateful he was not unkind to you, that he did not seem to loathe being married to you, the realization that he did not love you was one that shattered the glittering illusion you’d been clinging to so desperately. You’d hoped that he would settle, that with time he would grow to love you as you were growing to love him, but there was no use.

Every day that passed, he seemed to drift farther from you and only proved there was no sense in waiting for him to love you back. There was no point in inserting yourself into places you weren’t wanted or making gestures that went unnoticed. So, you stopped trying.

And, if Aegon noticed that you’d stopped putting in the effort he’d grown accustomed to, he did not mention it.

In the beginning of your marriage, you rarely went more than a few hours without seeking Aegon out. Even if he could only spare a moment, even if you were only at the periphery of his attention, you accepted it happily. Now, it had been two days since you last saw him.

A simple change in your routine kept you from seeing Aegon much at all these days.

Whereas you would normally walk the gardens at midday, your companions in tow and occasionally accompanied by Helaena or Alicent, you chose to spend that time perfecting your needlework instead. The walk was pushed to either early morning or afternoon - when Aegon was busy with the small council. And, as for dinner, more often than not, you ate along in your chambers. Your sister and cousin joined you occasionally, even sometimes Helaena, but your goal was to avoid Aegon and that you did.

Still, you played your part dutifully when called upon.

As requested, you stood beside him to welcome the first of the lords arriving in King’s Landing for Daeron’s six-and-tenth nameday tourney. There were a handful of lords from the Reach accompanying the Hightower host and Aegon pulled you close, standing tall with pride as they all complimented what a beautiful couple you made.

Though your heart was no longer in it, you put on your happiest face - thanking the lords whose names you would doubtlessly spend the rest of the tournament whispering to your husband before he could ask - and resisted the urge to step away from him before you were granted leave.

Embarrassment and shame now burned in the pit of your stomach, heated your skin and left an acrid taste in the back of your throat, each time you stood at his side. The glances shared between the ladies of the court, the whispers you knew would inevitably follow - blaming you for not yet giving him an heir, for not being enough to keep him from straying - needed at your already frayed nerves.

Believing that he ever loved you was foolish and you were reminded of your delusion with every pitying glance you were spared.

Now, despite the silence that stretched unbroken for nearly an hour, instead of pitying glances, you felt the weight of Aegon’s gaze upon your skin intermittently. Violet eyes observed your stillness, watching with an uncharacteristic intensity you’d never seen directed at you before, and you wondered if that was worse. However, before you could wish for an interruption - someone to step in and save you - Aegon finally placed his cup onto the table.

“What troubles you, dear wife?” Though his words were beginning to slur, there was still a coherence to his speech that sometimes surprised you. “I’ve been here a while and you’ve yet to turn a page.”

“I believe I chose the wrong volume,” you sighed. The lie fell from your lips easily - unwilling to confess that it was the weight of his attention that distracted you, his very presence that left you unable to concentrate on the words you wanted desperately to read - as you lifted your head to meet his intense gaze. His attention remained on your face, eyes searching for something, as you placed a ribbon between the pages and placed the book onto the table, far from his glass. “This one is… dull.”

“They’re all histories written by maesters,” he reminded you with a laugh that rang a touch hollow, a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Dull is expected, is it not?”

Though Aegon could be kind to you - when he so desired - and once took an interest in what interested you, you were often reminded that you had little in common. Aemond was the studious brother, well-versed in the histories and philosophy, while Aegon found it all dreadful. Where Aemond could spend days locked away in the library and never grow bored, Aegon had only read what was required of him as a boy - sometimes - and only occasionally listened when you read aloud to him in the early days of your marriage.

“Perhaps,” you allowed, after a moment of thought. “Some of the stories about the Conqueror have been interesting,” you defended, “but Aemond assured me this was a favorite of his.” With a shrug, you leaned back into the cushion of the couch and admitted, “We must have different tastes.”

Aegon laughed, a derisive sound that made you frown as his eyes flashed with an emotion you couldn’t place so quickly you almost considered it a trick of the light. He reached for his glass once more and swallowed a scoff. “Of course you do,” he exclaimed, with a touch of venom you were unused to, “you are married to me and he can barely stand to be in the same room these days.”

With a sigh, you reached for your own glass. “That’s not true,” you reminded him, though not as gently as you supposed you should have. “Aemond’s part of the small council and plans with you, not over you. He’s loyal to you.”

“All one could ask of a guard dog,” he declared, lifting his cup, though there was little bite to the insult - as if it were spoken reflexively, rather than intentionally.

“I wish you wouldn’t antagonize Aemond,” you chided, almost wincing as you heard an echo of Alicent in your words. “He means well. He’s trying to help. All of your family is.”

The moment the words left your lips, you regretted them. Though you had grown uncomfortable in his presence, you did not wish for him to leave - not really. But you could see the flicker of warmth that lingered in Aegon’s gaze, the slight fondness he still regarded you with, cool completely as you uttered your admonishment. However, before you could apologize, blame the comment on your exhaustion, Aegon stood.

“As I’m often reminded,” he scoffed, though he attempted to cover it with a smile. “I’ll leave you to your dull volume, then. Goodnight, my queen,” he bade, smile tight and not reaching his eyes.

“Goodnight, Your Grace.”

Aegon bristled at the formal title - one you’d taken to calling him earnestly, no longer in jest as it had been the first few moons of your marriage - but paused only for a moment before striding out of the room. Behind him, the doors to your chambers fell shut with a heavy noise and you were, once again, alone with your thoughts.

For a few long moments, you sat with only the crackling of the hearth to fill the quiet. Somehow, the silence felt more overwhelming without Aegon’s presence, more oppressive, and you hated that you missed him.

Though you now felt a pinprick of bitter shame in his presence, you still felt guilty any time you pushed him away. Aegon was the one who began to pull away from, to place a wall between you and dismiss your attempts at affection, but you loved him. Despite realizing the few precious moments he spent with you alone were forced upon him, you cherished them, just the same - regardless of how ill they now made you feel.

To be the center of his attention, if only for a moment, still filled you with an awful, overwhelming, lovesick feeling. It once was the highlight of your day, the bright spot in an otherwise dull pattern of needlework and gossip. Now, however, the once bright light only served to further illuminate your own foolishness.

The giddy feeling was now replaced entirely by a roiling in the pit of your stomach, a bitter nausea that heated your skin and made your head spin, and you couldn’t help yourself as you stood to pull on a heavy cloak.

Despite being queen, you often felt an afterthought. There were only a handful of guards lingering near your chambers - none directly in front of your door - as most were keeping an eye on Aegon, Helaena, Helaena and Aemond’s children, or Alicent. It was easy to slip past them undetected and trace a familiar path through the halls.

At night, the Keep was almost peaceful.

Though a few lords lingered about, and others were on their way, there always seemed to be less pressure at night. Most were too deep in their cups or too weary from a long day to pay you any mind. The guards who kept watch at night were often less steadfast than their day-shift counterparts and most ladies who sent you pitying looks - or openly lusted after your husband - were locked away in their rooms.

Wandering about the Keep under the cover of darkness had become something of a routine for you and, with practiced ease, you made your way through the labyrinthine halls to the riverwalk.

Standing in the cool night air, the breeze surrounding you and filling your lungs with the familiar salt scent of the sea, soothed a touch of the homesickness you sometimes felt. King’s Landing was not White Harbor, not even close, but standing atop the riverwalk, you were able to pretend and felt your heart begin to calm. It was the hour of ghosts, a quiet time where the full moon shed bright white light over the bay and illuminated the water below just enough for you to watch it crash onto the shore.

There was no way of knowing how long you stood there. The only real measure of the passage of time was how cold your hands had grown. However, you realized that it had been long enough for your absence to be noticed as the clink of armor approached.

“Your Grace,” Criston began, voice carrying on the cool breeze as he stopped a few steps from where you stood, “the hour grows late and the night grows cold. You should return to your chambers.”

The question was no longer where you’d gone. Criston himself was the first to find you on the riverwalk one night, shortly after Aegon summoned you to his chambers in a drunken attempt to produce an heir that left you wondering why he would willingly bed everyone but you. The question was now how long you would remain.

Despite being from the North and used to far colder nights - longing for them, even - as winter began to creep into King’s Landing, Criston seemed to allow you less and less time in the cool night air.

“Why?”

If the question was unexpected, or confusing, Criston did not let on. Instead, he stepped closer - moonlight glinting off the silver of his armor with every step - and sighed as he watched your fingers trace the smooth edge of the stone barrier. “You are the queen,” he reminded you, simply, as if it were answer enough.

“I am the queen,” you agreed, voice quiet amidst the crashing of waves. A rueful smile twisted your lips as you shook your head. “Though, it is easy to forget.”

With a quiet sigh, Criston turned to face the water and watched the waves crash silently for a long moment. There was an affinity you shared with Criston, an understanding as he knew Aegon better than most - and regarded you with an affection similar to the one Alicent held for you. He seemed to share your disenchantment with life in King’s Landing, life in the Red Keep, and did not turn to face you as he asked, “Trouble sleeping again?”

“Mm. I do not wish to rely on the maester’s dreamwine to find sleep. The cool air helps. I apologize if I’ve caused worry.” A small part of you doubted anyone else knew you were missing - certainly not Aegon, for he was likely half-conscious in the throne room or already hidden inside the walls of a brothel by now - but you felt obliged to apologize, anyway.

Criston nodded, remained silent for a beat, and then pressed for another answer - the one he truly wanted. “What troubles you, Your Grace?”

Despite yourself, you found it easy to admit your upset to Criston. If anyone understood, you supposed it was him.

“I was excited to marry Aegon,” you admitted, a mirthless laugh escaping as you lifted your gaze to the moon. “I knew little of him but when we met, I found him charming. He made me laugh and he’s handsome. When he chooses to be, he can be good. Upon meeting, I forgot why I was afraid to marry, and my mother gave me reason to believe it would be… joyous, I suppose, too marry someone like him, to live in a place like this. I imagined a life that, looking back, could have never been mine.”

“Life rarely happens the way we imagine it will,” Criston reminded you, though it was gentler than you were used to. “We live the lives the gods see fit to allow us.” Those words, though spilling from his lips, were Alicent Hightower’s and you struggled to bite back a laugh as you recognized that you both pined for someone whose love eluded you. You wondered if this was the life he imagined for himself - a Kingsguard, hopelessly in love with someone who would never love him back.

“In that case,” you began, shoulders rounding as you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I can’t help but wonder what I’ve done wrong, what I’ve done to anger the gods so.” Your voice faded to a near whisper, lost in the wind, and Criston stepped closer to hear you as you continued. “I have no children to attend to, though if I did, there would be a nurse dedicated to them. They would not being to me, but to the realm.”

Another sigh escaped your lips as you blinked back the tears stinging at the backs of your eyes. “My only friends are two members of my own family. The rest of the ladies at court all cower in fear of my goodbrother or regard me with pity because of my husband’s reputation. And my husband…” Another laugh, this one bitter and harsher than you intended, escaped as you shook your head. “My husband drowns in his cups or remains too lost in the streets of silk to even consider wanting for an heir.”

With a hand brought to your cheek, brushing away traitorous tears that fell despite your best efforts, you felt a lump of emotion form in your throat. “Why does he seem so eager to bed every woman in King’s Landing, save his own wife?” Your voice broke, betraying your hurt, and you could see Criston tense beside you - uncertain, though hurting for you. The comment lingered for a moment before you shook your head once more and cleared your throat. “I apologize, Ser Criston,” you sighed, as the realization sank in. “Please forgive my outburst. It was inappropriate and I did not mean to… Perhaps you’re right, it is time for me to retire.”

“Your Grace,” Criston began, hesitant as he always seemed to be where matters of Aegon’s indiscretions were concerned, “it is understandable that you feel this way. Your patience has been impressive. Aegon is… he is young, but he will settle. Just give him time.”

“I’ve given him nearly a year,” you declared, suddenly angry as you turned to face him. “I knew, entering into this marriage, that it was little more than a political arrangement. I am but a pawn in the games of men. But I thought I might at least find a companion in Aegon. Now, I wish it did not feel so obvious that he cares little for me. I don’t want a husband to settle for me,” you declared, stronger than you intended. “I want a husband to want me, to desire me, to care about me. Aegon, I fear, barely knows I exist.”

A moment passed in which you sought to regain control of your own temper, your own tongue, and just as quickly as your anger arrived, it began to ebb. Exhaustion replaced it and you wrapped your cloak tighter around your body as you gave Criston a rueful smile. “Some in the realm consider that a blessing.”

Without waiting for his reply, you turned and set off in the direction of your chambers.

Criston followed close behind, remaining silent as you stepped through the halls much quicker than you had earlier in the night. It was only when you approached the door of your chambers that he spoke.

“For all your concerns,” Criston began, voice low and wide brown eyes meeting yours as he held the door open for you, “know that Aegon loves you deeply. It may not be visible in the way you wish, but it is there, in his heart.”

It struck you how deeply, how truly, Criston seemed to believe the words himself. There was an earnestness in his tone, a hope that you might believe him, and you desperately wanted to. But the best you could do was offer him a sad smile. “If only that were true,” you hummed. “Goodnight, Ser Criston.”

With the heavy, wooden thud of your door closing, you found yourself blinking back tears and hoping that the coming days would distract your husband enough to give you time to gather yourself. Every whisper convinced you of something different - that Aegon could someday love you, that he had no use for you, that he meant well, that he wished he was married to anyone else - but falling apart would do you no good.

The swirling thoughts in your head, the bitterness gathering in the pit of your stomach, had you on edge but it would only hurt you in the long run. You would have time to try and make sense of it all later, after the tourney ended and the Keep once again returned to its normal state of being.

For the moment, you could only hope that Aegon himself would remain distant.

Aegon was certainly distracted by his responsibility as king. Council meetings, petitions, private meetings; all took up valuable moments he once might’ve spared for you. He wasn’t fond of any of it, though he suffered through at the behest of his mother and grandsire. Like his father, however, he found a certain joy in hosting. Feasts, tourneys, dances; Aegon enjoyed them all in a way that you and his siblings did not. Merriment pleased him as he found himself at the center of attention, amidst happy revelers and praise directed at him.

Though the tourney was being held to celebrate Daeron’s nameday, Aegon still found himself at the center of every conversation. And his youngest brother, like Aemond, allow him to do so without complaint.

And while you would have preferred engaging in conversation with the other Targaryen siblings - or, perhaps, Aegon’s Velaryon nephews, or even the ladies who pitied you - you dutifully remained at Aegon’s side as he drank and laughed and feasted with lords whose names he could barely remember.

The few ladies surrounding you remained polite, though you could see their shared glances every time Aegon’s attention drifted from you. Regardless, he remained as close to his best behavior as he could and kept his hand in yours as Lady Redwyne offered you a smile that even he could see through. Aegon squeezed your hand - in comfort, you supposed, though you refused to read into it, even as your heart leapt - as she opened her mouth.

“How are you faring in the South, Your Grace? I imagine King’s Landing is wholly different from White Harbor,” she declared, taking a sip from her glass as she awaited your answer.

“It has been an adjustment, to be sure,” you returned, as polite and pleasant as you found yourself capable after hours of cordiality with women who openly snickered at your marriage. “But it is nice to experience a change of scenery. There is no shortage of excitement in King’s Landing.”

“An understatement,” Lord Tyrell declared, laughing as he shared a conspiratorial look with Aegon that you didn’t very much like. “Though, one can assume you’re glad of the coming winter,” he continued, gesturing to the gown you wore - a lighter fabric, compared to the warmer gowns the other ladies had opted for in response to the biting chill that settled into the air.

“An understatement,” Aegon parroted, tipping his cup for a cupbearer to fill. “She’d spend all night out in the cold, staring out the water, if she could,” he revealed. “Cole has to drag her in at night,” he continued, and you felt a sharp pang of disappointment as you realized Criston had informed him of your whereabouts.

“A reprieve from the warmth of the Keep,” you agreed, smiling politely - even as you couldn’t help but wonder what else Criston had shared with your husband. “And a marvelous view of the Bay,” you continued, pulling your hand as naturally from Aegon’s grasp as you were able, unwilling to spark any questioning looks.

“A marvelous view, indeed,” Lord Tyrell agreed, a salacious smile curving his lips as his gaze dipped to the curved neckline of your gown. Though your stomach roiled at the way he glanced at you, you kept your expression neutral as he continued. “And a wondrous place to share with a child, if the gods should allow it.” A few heads turned, then, all certain of the direction Lord Tyrell intended to steer the conversation as you reached for your wine. “We are all thankful to be celebrating Prince Daeron’s nameday, but cannot help wondering when we might convene to celebrate the birth of the crown’s heir.”

Luckily, before you were forced to offer a polite response to the inquiry made countless times in such a short timespan, Daeron appeared at your side and offered a brilliant smile. “I would be honored if the queen would grant me a dance,” he declared, glancing first at Aegon for permission before offering a hand when he was granted it.

Eagerly, you grasped Daeron’s outstretched hand and allowed him to lead you into the throng of people - still within reach of the guards and within Aegon’s line of sight. “Thank you,” you sighed, allowing Daeron to take the lead with a practiced ease. “While I’ve enjoyed having so much excitement around the Keep, I’m not quire sure how you deal with all the fine people in the Reach regularly.”

Daeron laughed, violet eyes glimmering in the light and untroubled by life in King’s Landing as he moved gracefully in time with the music. You almost envied his weightlessness, his freedom, as he revealed, “Thank the Seven, my days are spent training. Conveniently, I am exhausted any time there is to be a dinner.”

With a hum, you asked, “Do you think one of the guards might train me, so I could have the same excuse?”

“No.” He twirled you, smile bright as he watched the soft green fabric of your gown shift with each motion, and kept pace with the other dancers easily. “But you’re the queen. You can do as you please.”

“If only that were true, my prince.” Despite your best efforts at levity, the statement sounded as disheartened as you felt, a note of bitterness - acrid and biting in a way you had no desire to be with the youngest of Aegon’s siblings - laced every word. However, before you could apologize, Daeron’s smile softened into something understanding.

“If only,” he agreed with a wistful shake of his head. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what life is like here,” he admitted, not bothering to pay any attention to the others hoping to cut in. “But I do hope you can find joy in it someday.”

“Tell Aemond and I will adamantly deny I said anything,” you began, smiling conspiratorially at Daeron, “but I do believe you’re my favorite goodbrother.” When he grinned, smile bright and boyish in a way that reminded you of Aegon - painfully similar to the way he smiled at you so early in your courtship when you complimented him - you returned it with a soft smile of your own. “I’m happy Oldtown has treated you so well but very glad you’re here to celebrate with us.”

“I suggested a progress to mother and grandsire,” he announced, grin brightening when you blinked. “Aegon’s never visited the Hightower and grandsire was inclined to agree that he should. While my brother entertains Lord Tyrell and the other fine people of the Reach,” he parroted, laughing as you rolled your eyes at him, “I’ll give you a tour. Perhaps we’ll even find a few new volumes for you to bring back to King’s Landing.”

That anyone - let alone the youngest of your husband’s siblings who’d only been at court a few short days - could see that you needed a respite from the halls of the Red Keep and would advocate for it pressed a weight to your chest in a way that might’ve concerned you had Aegon not become so oblivious to your distress.

For a brief moment, the time it took for the music to change and you both to begin the new routine with practiced ease, you wondered if anyone else could see what he saw so easily or if his distance from the Keep gave him clarity others did not have.

Idly, you wondered if your husband’s family had all become so blinded by the mundane - by their own gilded cages - that your growing discomfort was simply regarded as part of the life you now lead. There was nothing anyone could do about your discomfort, nothing that could be said to Aegon that hadn’t been repeated a thousand times over. This was now your life, as it had always been their’s, so they simply allowed you to suffer in silence, as they did.

Though they tried to placate you, it was often confined to the Keep. They never gave you the freedom to wander, to disappear when the walls of your gilded cage began to close in on you, and you wondered if it was because they never considered leaving.

Regardless, you were touched by Daeron’s considerations. “I no longer believe you are my favorite goodbrother,” you announced, trying and failing to hide the emotion in your voice. “I know it for a fact.”

Daeron’s gaze softened for a moment, violet eyes alight with an understanding wise beyond his years - a kindness, an empathy ingrained in him by Gwayne, you realized - before he leaned in conspiratorially. “Let me further establish my place in your heart by promising to share word that the queen regrets her absence but fell ill with a sudden headache and decided to retire for much needed rest before the tourney begins,” he offered, and it was only then that you realized how close to the door he’d managed to guide you both.

“Well, now you’re just unabashedly courting the favor of the queen,” you teased, the words weak though the smile you offered him was genuine. “Thank you, Daeron,” you whispered, squeezing his arm in a gesture of appreciation.

“I hope your rest revitalizes you, my queen,” he bade, “so that you might attend the tourney.” His voice carried just far enough to attract the attention of the few lords and ladies surrounding you and, with a nod of acknowledgement, he allowed you to slip through the small group near the door before turning to pass along your regrets to Aegon.

Despite how exhausted you suddenly felt as you left the feast - the noise from the hall fading into a muffled cacophony with every step you took - sleep was the last thing on your mind. Since the arrival of the first lord, your days had suddenly become filled with noise, an endless, mindless stream of sound that deeply unsettled you. Though the Keep was never silent, it was mostly tolerable.

Now, however, you knew that every place you sought solace was like to be filled with lords and ladies from every corner of the realm. The gardens, the courtyard, the entire Keep swarmed with people. There was no solace to be found in your usual perch atop the riverwalk, not tonight - not after Aegon’s laughter - so you opted for a place you knew few would venture.

The library was, even in the bright light of day, usually deserted.

Very few people, aside from the maesters - and a septa or two - set foot in the dim room. Even when the Keep was filled to the brim with people, it was rare to find anyone in the darkness sifting through volumes kept in the royal collection.

As such, you were pleased to find yourself alone for the first time in hours as you lowered yourself into one of the chairs scattered about the room.

For a few long moments, you were left alone with your thoughts. There were very few that many any sense, all jumbled into a cacophony of noise that did, unfortunately, cause an ache to form at your temples. It felt as if each thought was made of smoke, impossible to catch and examine in the way you often felt necessary to make sense of them all, and you released a heavy sigh as you sank deeper into the chair and closed your eyes.

“Quite concerning how quickly your headache appeared, Your Grace. Though this is not the place to sleep it off.”

With a start, your eyes flew open and a hand lifted to your chest as you inhaled sharply.

Aemond stood in the doorway, illuminated by the dim orange glow of candlelight, and studied you with an intense understanding you’d started to grow used to. The green leather he wore looked black in the low light and you sighed as you settled.

“By the gods, Aemond,” you huffed, shooting him a look that might’ve caused anyone else to wither but seemed to have no effect on him, “you frightened me.” As he stepped into the room, moving to sink into one of the chairs across from you, you sighed. “I do have a headache,” you defended, lifting the hand from your chest to your aching temple, “and I did not intend to sleep here. I just needed a moment alone. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to check on my goodsister,” he declared, lips curving into a smirk as you rolled your eyes. “I only wanted to see that you were alright, my queen. And remind you that you shouldn’t leave accompanied. There’s no telling who might be lurking in the darkness.”

“I’m afraid you’re the only one who worries about such things. I doubt anyone else would notice my absence,” you declared, tipping your head to rest on the edge of the chair. “What are you really doing here, Aemond?”

Though your comment earned a frown, thoughtful and calculating, Aemond ignored it for the moment. “The same thing you are; escaping the mindless, drunken chatter of our king and his esteemed guests,” he declared wearily, tipping his head to study you - daring you to deny your true reason for leaving the feast.

There was nothing you could say that would convince him otherwise and, besides, you made it a habit not to lie to Aemond. He always seemed to find the truth in the end; it was easier this way. So, instead of playing coy, you simply asked, “How did you know where to find me?” When he raised a brow, you barely refrained from rolling your eyes once more. “Stupid question,” you admitted, sighing as you raked a hand over the intricate fabric of your gown in an attempt to distract yourself.

“Your absence is noticed, by more than me,” he declared, voice quiet in the still of the room.

When he offered no elaboration, you heaved a heavier sigh and asked, “Is Aegon still entertaining Lord Tyrell?”

Pursed lips served as your only indicator of Aemond’s contempt as he hummed. “Hatching a plan to escape the Keep and explore the streets of silk, no doubt,” he declared casually, only pausing to gauge your reaction. When you swallowed, he continued. “Lord Tyrell’s appetites are… notorious.”

“No more so than Aegon’s, I’d wager.” Aemond tipped his head in silent agreement as you sighed and stood. As you began to pace, a slow back and forth across the stone floor, your goodbrother’s violet eye tracked your every step as he waited for you to continue.

“I try,” you began, with a shake of your head, “relentlessly, it sometimes feels, but it all seems so pointless. I heard the whispers before we were married, there is no woman in the real that hasn’t. But I hoped, naively, that he might change when we were wed. Foolish, I now realize, but I still don’t understand why he seems so particularly… displeased with me.”

As you paused, inhaling a shaking breath, Aemond sighed. “Aegon is a fool,” he declared, strong and certain in a way you only wished you could be, “though I believe you knew that when you were wed.” Despite yourself, you cut your eyes at him - discouraging the insult, though you knew it to be true - and he repented with a tip of his head. “But you are as much a fool as he if you think he is displeased with you.”

With a frown, you continued your pacing. “What other explanation is there? I care, more deeply than I suppose I should, that he continues to spend his nights haunting the streets of silk. But it is more painful to hear the whispers at court. Those women who denigrate me, claim it is some fault of mine own that he strays - that there is no heir yet… I know I shouldn’t care, but by the gods, I do. We have lain together only a handful of times while he’s bedded every whore in King’s Landing thrice over by now. Eleven moons have passed and we have no child. I tried, in the beginning, but he’s turned me away at every chance lately.”

Another moment, another beat of silence, as you blinked back the traitorous tears that you refused to allow Aemond to see. You swallowed the emotion settling at the back of your throat and shook your head. “Do you know how humiliating it is, to know that my own husband would rather lie with every whore on the streets of silk than take me to bed? I just wish he would tell me what it is he dislikes, what displeases him, so that I might try and change it.”

Aemond sighed heavily and you could feel his intense gaze burning into your skin. You knew that if you looked at him, you would break - the dam keeping your emotion at bay would burst and tears would flood your eyes - so you kept your gaze cast to your shoes and waited, with an anxious need, for his response.

If there was anyone who might understand, anyone who might offer you the truth, it was Aemond.

As he stood, your breath caught in your throat. With only a few steps, Aemond met you in the center of the room and urged you to lift your head. “There is nothing wrong with you. If anyone needs to change, it is Aegon. You are… formidable,” he declared, unflinching as he took in the way your eyes shimmered in the dim light. “That is a compliment I do not spare lightly. Aegon, despite his foolishness, has never wanted for anything. Except, I believe, to be worthy of you."

The declaration settled over the library with a finality only Aemond seemed to possess, a certainty that nearly made you believe him without question, and the words reverberated in your mind for a long moment. Aemond granted you silence, understanding as your jumbled thoughts began to make even less sense in a desperate bid to make something of his certainty, and you inhaled sharply as you tried to follow a single train of thought for longer than a moment.

However, before you could beg for clarity - for him to speak plainly, as if he were explaining the concept to one of his children - your sister’s voice interrupted. “Apologies,” she began, sparing a glance between you and Aemond with a look you recognized as something akin to regret. “The king has asked for you to visit him in his chambers, sister. He was told you did not feel well,” she announced with a sigh, “but he insists.”

“Very well,” you acquiesced with a sigh of your own. “I can see myself to his chambers. If you could make sure a bath will be waiting for me when I return to my own, you can retire for the night.”

With a pitying look you did not much care for - especially not from your youngest sister - she nodded. “Of course. Goodnight, sister."

As she took her leave, Aemond hummed once more. “And here you thought him displeased,” he teased, lips twitch with the ghost of a smirk. “He could be perusing the streets of silk with Lord Tyrell but he wants for his wife. How touching.”

“You are insufferable,” you declared, turning to make the journey to Aegon’s chambers, though there was no heat - save for a fond warmth - in the statement.

“Yet you seek my counsel and company,” he reminded you. “If I am insufferable, it is a burden you willingly bear.”

“Gladly,” you corrected, easily. “A burden,” you confirmed, though Aemond knew you did not truly consider him one, “but one I gladly bear. Goodnight, Aemond. Bid Helaena goodnight for me, as well.”

Despite the growing resentment you felt toward Aegon, the bitter sadness that started to fill your heart, your found a sort of comfort in his family. They all seemed determined that yours would be a happy marriage, no matter the doubt you now felt, and you appreciated their efforts. Though it seemed to be something of a coping mechanism for them, brushing truth aside for something happier - something lighter, even if it was unrealistic - it brightened your considerably gloomy outlook in a way you needed.

Though you were not a Targaryen by blood, they all stood with you - sheltered you from the outside world, even if they could not shelter you from one of their own.

And as you stepped through the halls in the only vaguely familiar direction of Aegon’s chambers, you wondered if he would even be awake to greet you - a cynical thought that once would’ve never crossed your mind as you rushed to Aegon as soon as he asked.

Much to your surprise, however, he was wide awake and waiting near the foot of his bed for your arrival.

“My queen of ice,” Aegon slurred, grinning at you as you entered his chambers. The doors fell closed behind you, the hall and the guard disappearing, and you bit back a sigh as you stepped deeper into the dimly lit room. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? Green suits you,” he complimented, though the words were broken by a hiccup and a scrutiny that you believed to be his curiosity as to whether the gown was one he’d given you.

“You have,” you assured him, though not a word of compliment had been uttered in longer than you cared to admit - the sentiment in his words now unsettling your stomach rather than setting your skin alight. You also did not bother to remind him that the green you wore was the color of your own house, not Hightower green, as you watched him pour himself another cup. “Perhaps you should rest, Your Grace. It has been a long day, filled with excitement. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Not until I have done my duty as your husband,” he declared, before downing the contents of the cup in a long gulp. “Lost count of how many times I was asked when there might be a feast welcoming an heir to the throne.”

A small sense of satisfaction lingered for a moment - at least you were not the only one facing the repeated question. However, the satisfaction was short lived as conflicting emotions surrounding lying with Aegon began to cloud your mind.

For nearly a year, all you wanted was for him to want you. With each day that passed, you hoped - despite yourself - that he might seek you out and offer some of the affection you once received. You hoped that he might spare you the most fleeting glance, the softest touch, the smallest smile. It made you feel pathetic, but you wanted it so desperately.

Anything Aegon wished to give you, you realized you would gladly take.

However, now that he was offering you something of the affection you dreamt of each night you spent alone, the throbbing in your temples grew greater and the churning in the pit of your stomach nearly overwhelmed you. Thoughts - wondering if he would lay with you and then depart the Keep with Lord Tyrell, anyway; wondering if he might someday slip up, call you the name of one of his favored whores; wondering what might happen if you did fall pregnant, if he no longer had a reason to call for you - swirled so quickly that they stole the air from your lungs.

The room felt as if it were spinning around you and, for a moment, you felt drunker than Aegon seemed. Regardless, you could not bring yourself to deny him.

As pathetic as it made you feel, you grasped the opportunity to be closed to him with both hands.

“As you wish, Your Grace.” The acquiescence was soft, spoken in a breathless whisper to keep your voice from breaking, as you stepped deeper into his chambers. Despite the glassy sheen to his violet eyes, a flash of something dark - something angry, all too aware - flashed in them.

“I wish for you to call me anything else,” he sighed, pouring himself another cup of wine. The words were sharper than you imagined he intended, exhausted in a way you’d never heard him sound, and you felt yourself falter.

Breathing his name had once been your greatest joy. Calling him ‘Aegon’ or ‘husband,’ where others addressed him so formally, made you feel as if you had at least one piece of him others did not. Now, however, it brought you little comfort as you knew there was nothing you had others wanted for. You wondered, only for a moment, what the other women called him, before you bit the inside of your cheek to anchor yourself to the present.

There was no longer anything you possessed that was solely yours. No matter how badly your heart ached at the thought, no matter how angry it made you, there was nothing left. The only thing you could even hope for was a child born from your own body, though you knew even that would belong to the realm first, as Aegon’s heir.

With a swallow, you reminded yourself there was no sense losing the moment. Aegon wanted you, if only because he had to, and you would take it. You steeled yourself, willed yourself to remain upright and calm, and resumed your path.

“Very well, my king,” you agreed, stepping closer to the bed - unable to make yourself call him anything but. The possessive ‘my’ seemed to soften the title some, deemed it appropriate somewhere in the recess of his wine-muddled mind, and those violet eyes cooled some. They were beginning to glaze over, beginning to lose their focus, as he beckoned you closer.

Aegon drank deep from the cup, a few drops of wine escaping down his chin, and you sighed quietly as your fingers tugged at the intricate laces of your gown to keep from reaching for him. You wanted to, wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush the deep red from his pale skin, but you were uncertain how he would react.

However, before you could make much progress, Aegon pushed himself away from the bed and closed the distance between you.

Standing so close to Aegon left your heart beating wildly in your chest. You could feel it throbbing in your temples,  in the balls of your feet that ached after spending the day standing to receive guests, thudding heavily against your ribcage. The scent of him filled your nose - the soaps and oils used earlier to prepare him for guests, the heady combination of wine and dragon fire that lingered on his skin - and it brought an ache to your chest.

Though it once might’ve made you swoon, brought a girlish warmth to your skin and sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, it was now almost entirely unpleasant. As badly as you wanted this, wanted him, you also wanted to turn and run. But you kept yourself standing and schooled your face into an impassive mask as his fingers tugged at the laces.

Even drowning in his cups, he managed to make quick work of the ties that held your gown together - and, bitterly, the only thought you found yourself capable of forming was a question of how much practice that had taken.

Long ago, the first few times he’d taken you, there was some semblance of effort. Though you knew he did not want you, did not yet love you - though you still had hope then that he someday might - he tried. He kissed you softly, caressed your skin, whispered compliments in the dim of the room.

Now, he could barely keep himself upright as he helped you out of your gown.

Despite his drunkenness, Aegon still managed to remove the gown easily. The laces came undone quickly and it fell to the floor, piled into a heap around your feet. He stepped away, just enough for you to step out of the fabric and climb into his bed, before placing a knee onto the bed to follow.

Only then did he pause, seeming to remember himself. He stepped away for a moment, searching the small table near the privacy screen, and grabbed the oil the maesters had given you in hopes that it might aid the process.

A small part of you resented it - it hadn’t been necessary, in the beginning - while the larger part was thankful. It made the act more tolerable, easier to withstand, easier to pretend that the want was mutual and Aegon was not simply ‘doing his duty.’ 

Aegon tossed the vial onto the bed and peeled himself out of his clothes. The undershirt and breeches were tossed away, along with his small clothes, before he returned his weight to the mattress. He was half-hard, another surprise with how much he drank, and you contented yourself with watching as he reached for the vial and poured a few drops into his palm.

You were conflicted as to whether his refusal to glance at your face should be seen as an insult or a kindness as he worked himself to full hardness.

The man above you was somewhat unsteady, wobbling precariously as he climbed over you, and you had half a mind to reach out and steady him. However, you kept your hands fisted tightly in the sheets as he absentmindedly reached for your thigh with a slick hand and settled between your now spread legs.

Aegon’s eyes closed as he situated the head of his cock at your entrance, brows furrowing, and you followed suit as he pressed forward.

Unable to help yourself, a noise - louder than you would’ve liked - escaped your throat at the stretch. It had been nearly two moons since you last laid together and you couldn’t make much sense of how you felt in the moment as his weight descended upon you.

“Keep your voice down,” he slurred, shushing you - though you knew he would soon grow louder. “There’s still a feast going on.”

None of the guests would hear you, the feast was far enough away. If they did, it wouldn’t have been a bad thing - perhaps they might stop asking when to expect an heir, they might stop whispering that he refused to lie with you. But you relented and kept quiet, as he ordered.

The act itself was not wholly unpleasant, not when you relished in being the center of Aegon’s attention if only for a moment, but it was nothing like you’d hoped.

Aegon did not love you, nor did he desire you. The realization was enough to have you counting down the moments until you were allowed to return to your own chambers.

However, though the moment was less than idea, you held it dear. Despite yourself, as Aegon found a sloppy rhtzhym, you reached for him and held him close. One hand lifted to his hair, clean and soft as he’d been in the presence of so many guests and needed to keep up with appearances, while the other pressed to his chest. You could feel the beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, rapid but steady - or, maybe it was your own, echoing in your ears - and the way his chest rose and fell in search of breath.

Pleasing you was not his objective, nor was it even remotely on his mind, so you distracted yourself with watching him seek his own release.

Though you hated it, you still felt your heart beat a touch faster at the sight of him.

There was plenty of Targaryen beauty evident in Aegon - his fair hair, his violet eyes, his beautiful features - but there was something else that captivated you. Aemond was angular, fierce, serious; Helaena, soft and bright, with mournful moments of melancholy interspersed; Daeron, a mixture of both, blessed with a lingering, youthful ignorance his siblings were not granted.

Aegon, however, was something else entirely.

Even at his happiest, there was something so sad about him. His eyes, perhaps, where the smile never quite reached - holding a depth you were not privy to understanding - or the frown he wore so often when he thought no one was looking. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, more so now than ever, but you’d long ago given up the hope that he might someday allow you to cary some of his burden.

Though the entire world had been placed at his feet, he wanted for something. If only he would tell you, you knew that you would provide it without a second thought.

In the pursuit of his own pleasure, Aegon still did not look entirely happy. There was a pinch to his brows that never quite left, a faraway look in his eyes that made your chest ache in the most unpleasant way, and a seemingly never-ending war waging in his mind as to whether he should touch you or not.

Hands, calloused from years of dragon riding - and the occasional session with a sword, though he’d long since given lose up - hovered near your skin. His violet eyes were conflicted, uncertain, and you could see his hands fluttering about before he settled on placing them near you. When he moved, his skin brushed yours and that seemed to be enough for him in his altered state. The weight of your own touch against his skin was something he leaned into, something he accepted eagerly, and you felt as if you could cry as he decided against returning the gesture.

However, you weren’t given long to dwell as his thrusts grew erratic after only a few short moments.

The time you spent together grew less and less frequent, as did the time it took him to ‘do his duty’ as your husband. With only a few thrusts, he buried himself deep and spilled inside of you, pressing himself close enough to steal the air from your lungs.

Disheveled blonde curls filled your vision as he leaned forward. Aegon stared at you, violet eyes clearly and blinking, and, for a brief moment, you felt a sliver of hope that he might kiss you.

It stung only a little when he did not.

“Gods,” he sighed,” leaning forward to press his face into the crook of your neck as he attempted to catch his breath. “You really look just like her,” he mumbled, voice slurring with sleep and wine. “Sound like her, too. And smell like her.”

Aegon breathed in deep, inhaling the scent of your hair and skin - perfumed oil doubtlessly dulled to barely any scent after a long day - as your heart began to beat even faster and your stomach clenched. A part of you had no desire to know who he imagined you were, who he pictured beneath him as he pressed his nose into your skin, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Like who?” If he noticed the shake to your voice, the way your hand trembled in his hair, Aegon said nothing as he hummed.

“My wife,” he answered, lifting his head and blinking bleary eyes at you once more, “the queen. Must be paid well.”

It was a wonder he couldn’t hear the beat of your heart as it threatened to hammer right through the wall of your chest. A thousand conflicting feelings ran through your head all at once. It was you he’d thought of, you he saw, and that was something of a balm for the ache in your heart. However, he thought you were a whore who merely looked like his wife, a whore he’d rather allow warm his bed. 

A question lingered on the tip of your tongue - did he seek out one who looked like you or did he merely find your presence so improbable that he chose the most logical explanation.

Either way, he pulled out and moved away, rolling onto his back beside you. He allowed his head to fall against the pillow and muss his hair. “‘M sure there’re more than I care to imagine that want to fuck her,” he began. “That Tyrell cunt couldn’t take his eyes off her at dinner,” he huffed, eyes closing as he brought a hand up to scrub at his face. “Can’t fault him, though,” he sighed, “she’s beautiful.”

“Then why don’t you lay with her?”

The question escaped before you could consider it, before you could wonder if it was appropriate to ask, but Aegon seemed unbothered.

“Would you fuck me if I didn’t pay you?” Though the question was spoken blandly, meant to prove a point, it made your heart ache. Aegon thought so little of himself and you wondered how much a part you played in his self-doubt.

“I would, my king,” you whispered - you did, you would, if only he wanted you. “Gladly.”

“Don’t deserve it,” he declared, lips parting with a heavy sigh as he reached for the sheets to cover himself. “Leave me,” he ordered, not bothering to open his eyes and spare you another glance. “I want to sleep.”

The question of who he meant, of what he meant - who was undeserving of what? - lingered on the tip of your tongue, but rather than face his ire as he would doubtlessly turn his infamous temper upon you in the moment as he did not recognize you, you climbed out of the bed and pulled your dress on as best as you were able without the help of your handmaidens and slipped out of Aegon’s chambers.

Criston was the only guard lingering in your path - a calculated move, no doubt, to spare you further humiliation - and he dutifully cast his gaze aside as you approached your door. Any other night, he might’ve bid you goodnight, but thankfully, he remained silent as he held the door for you. You were uncomfortable and exhausted and grateful as the door shut with a soft click, plunging you into silence once more.

After bathing - alone, unwilling to allow anyone to see you after spending time with Aegon, too lost in your own thoughts and questioning your own feelings to care about propriety - you climbed into bed and waited for sleep you knew would not come.

The next morning, however,  you awoke with a certain resolve. Following the night you spent with him, the questions that now lingered, you took greater care to keep yourself out of his reach.

Keeping away from him wasn’t all that difficult. Aegon had distanced himself enough that your routines were entirely different, living almost wholly separate lives despite sharing the same home. The only times your paths seemed to cross was in the middle of the day and at dinner.

Though, with the entirety of the realm now watching as you were supposed to be together for appearance sake, you were meticulous with your excuses.

The beginning of the tourney was a joyous affair, celebrated loudly by all in attendance.

With any number of events happening simultaneously, you made it known that you wanted simply to experience it all. Northern tourneys were different, you explained to anyone who asked - though all tourneys paled in comparison to those hosted by the king. This was simply an experience you wanted to remember, and Aegon encouraged your wandering.

There were but a handful of Northerners present - a few minor lords and ladies, two knights, and a handful of cavalrymen - and, while you were disappointed that your family was not among them, you were still glad to see familiar sigils. And, instead of sitting with Aegon in the royal box and watching as the tourney began, you made it a point to visit with those you knew, offering your greetings and welcome, and even a favor to the one knight who boldly asked.

Throughout the day, you wandered.

With your sister by your side, you watched the mummers and the archers, the puppets and the poets. You nursed a cup of wine and, when asked why you were not sitting with Aegon, confessed - feigning sheepishness, an emotion that earned you soft coos of delight - that you did not much care for the sport, that you worried for the knights and took no pleasure in watching them be carted off, injured.

In reality, it was Aegon’s act you did not much care for.

Without the attention of the realm placed solely on the pair of you, he might not’ve noticed your absence. It had taken him days, after all, to find you before the guests began to arrive.

However, this time, it took him only hours.

As the day crawled to an end and you found yourself stepping through the crowd to settle into your seat beside Aegon at dinner.

“Where have you been?” He frowned, paying no mind to the lord he cut off in the midst of a story. “I stopped by your chambers to escort you to dinner. You weren’t there,” he added, almost an afterthought - the words softening what he realized could’ve made you defensive, what could’ve made others suspicious.

“The bay,” you admitted, smiling your thanks at the cupbearer before sipping your wine.

Confusion wrinkled Aegon’s brow as he leaned in to get a better look at you - searching your face for any hint of a joke. “The bay,” he wondered, “why? Was the tourney not entertaining enough?”

“Lady Mormont wished to see it,” you answered, smile patient though you wished to roll your eyes. “It reminds us both a little of home.”

“There is water in the North? I thought it all miserable and frozen.”

When you frowned, incensed by the lord’s quip and the laughter that followed, Aegon sighed and reached for your hand. “It was a jest, my queen,” he soothed you. “I’ve heard stories of the beauty of White Harbor. Grandsire suggested a progress - perhaps we can go to the North and you can show it to me.”

“The Conqueror held court at New Castle three times,” you recalled, a fact you read in a book long before you married Aegon. “I’m sure my father would welcome you as my ancestors welcomed your namesake.”

“Alysanne held court there, I believe,” he declared, almost uncertainly as he glanced to you for confirmation. When you nodded, he hummed - pleased to have remembered his own history, something Aemond could have recounted with startling ease.

“A women’s court,” you confirmed, reaching for your cup with the hand Aegon left free. “I grew up hearing stories of how kind she was and how much the women enjoyed the opportunity to speak and have the queen hear them.”

Daeron, who had taken the spot occupied by Lord Tyrell the previous night, turned to you with a smile. “Perhaps it might be worthwhile to use this gathering to your advantage,” he interjected. “I know some women do not much care for tourneys. Perhaps you could hold court with them, afford them an opportunity to speak directly with the queen.”

“A marvelous idea,” Aegon agreed, squeezing your hand and smiling as he tipped his cup in his brother’s direction. “You’ve sat with me, listening to petitions before. You’re well trained,” he teased. 

“Oh, how wonderful that would be,” Lady Baratheon declared, offering you a knowing smile - easily detecting the discomfort your husband so eagerly ignored. “All of the ladies could gather and share, so that you might know more about the concerns around the realm, Your Grace.”

“It’s settled, then,” Aegon concluded, smiling brightly as he nodded. “A women’s court; a perfect opportunity for my queen to become better acquainted with the women of the realm.”

Of the group, only Daeron seemed to sense your discomfort and you could see the pang of regret in his eyes as you spared him a glance. Regardless, you nodded your agreement and offered a smile to the new sets of eyes now turned to you.

“Of course. Tomorrow, then,” you confirmed, “I shall begin holding court for the women who do not wish to watch the tourney.”

In hindsight, the women’s court was, truly, a marvelous idea.

Though it was not something you wished to be put upon you without notice, there was a desire in you to take a more active role as queen. You grew bored easily, tired of needlework and idle gossip. The books you read were a nice distraction, as were the infrequent High Valyrian lessons your husband’s siblings spared you, but you needed something more.

Spending your time learning more about the plight of the women of the realm made you feel as if you were accomplishing something.

The women’s court also gave you a reason to disappear throughout the day, a reason to avoid Aegon entirely without having to explain yourself to anyone. As your mornings were spent working through the previous day’s findings and dinner was eaten alone - exhausted by the very valid concerns shared by so many women - you never needed to flounder for a reason to seek solitude.

However, that did little to stop the whispers.

From your sister - and your cousin - you heard the few whispers, those who correctly deduced your dedication as an excuse to hide from your husband. But you had little reason to believe that Aegon heard, or cared, about the whispers himself. 

Until he sought you out.

On the third day of the tournament, late into the night - after the feast ended and the lords and ladies had retired for the evening - the door to your chambers flew open at the hour of ghosts.

Aegon, doublet undone and hair mussed, stormed in. His eyes were wild, violet darkened by an emotion you found yourself too exhausted to attempt to read, and his cheeks tinted pink as he stared at you for a long moment. “What have I done?”

The door to your chambers had barely swung shut when the demanding question echoed through the room.

Aegon looked less the part of king and more the part of upset husband as he began pacing before you, only pausing to glance at you incredulously when you flipped a page.

“The offense very likely depends on who is chastising you,” you declared, tone detached, uninterested - despite the unsteady beat of your heart and the sharp inhale you took great care to conceal, “your mother, your brother, or the hand. Perhaps you should ask one of them.” Your exhaustion kept you from standing yourself, from reading too deeply into the situation as you knew there would not be a satisfactory answer, but that seemed to only fuel his upset.

“The offense is yours,” he clarified, resuming his pacing as he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “What have I done to offend you?”

With a sigh, you finally placed the book onto the table and leaned into the couch - just as you’d done only a few days earlier. It was clear that he had no plan to leave without an answer, though you found yourself at a loss for why he thought he’d offended you or why he cared. “I take it Alicent chastised you, then,” you deduced, the only logical answer as you finally lifted your gaze to watch as he stepped evenly - without the drunken sway you so often spotted. “Order the Guard to keep your trips to the streets of silk quieter and she might leave you be.”

Violet eyes narrowed as his brows furrowed in frustration - he seemed more upset that you weren’t listening than by the thought of causing offense. 

“This has nothing to do with my mother,” he insisted, stopping to take a seat in the same chair he’d occupied only days earlier. Now, instead of waiting in silence for you to acknowledge him, his intense stare was accompanied by a frustrated frown. “I’ve done something to offend you but I don’t know what. Tell me, so I can fix it and apologize.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, attempting to make sense of his sudden line of questioning, his sudden interest in you - in whether he’d offended you, when you both knew he’d spent nearly a year doing little else. If Alicent had not chastised him, if Aemond or Otto or even Criston hadn’t pressed upon him the importance of soothing your aching heart, why did he seem so rattled?

“If your no one has reproached you,” you finally began, words slow and deliberate, your confusion evident, “what makes you think you’ve done something to offend me?”

Aegon huffed a frustrated sigh as he gestured to where you sat, glass of wine, a stack of papers, and a book on the table. “You’ve been avoiding me. This is the first I’ve seen of you in days.”

With a sweeping glance around your chambers - at the papers and the book, at the gown waiting to be worn for the next day of court - you blinked at him. “I’ve been entertaining the ladies of the realm,” you reminded him, words still  escaping slowly, evenly, even as you raised a brow at the way his knee bounced. “We decided to hold women’s court, like Good Queen Alysanne. I believe you called it a ‘marvelous idea’.” Aegon huffed at the reminder, incensed by your response, and you sighed. “The ladies are glad to spend the day unburdening themselves. I’ve been working through their concerns,” you explained, gesturing to the stack of papers, “discerning which are in need of further attention and which can be solved without the crown’s intervention.”

A moment of silence passed in which Aegon scrutinized the papers before he huffed once more and stood, resuming his pacing. “You’ve been avoiding me long before guests began to arrive,” he declared, nearly startling you as you hadn’t realized he’d noticed. As you blinked, surprised, he shot you a look, something angry - wounded, almost - and shook his head. “Don’t deny what we both know to be true."

“You’ve been busy.” Deflecting blame to him was not how you intended the conversation to go, not when you could see him bristle at the acknowledgement you had, indeed, been avoiding him. So, you added, “I did not wish to add more of a burden.”

Aegon sighed, a defeated sound that you’d never heard, and sat once more. He seemed to consider reaching for the flagon of wine, perhaps even stealing your cup, but thought better of it as he settled into the chair.

Silence enveloped you both for a long moment, thick and unbroken by even the faintest of sounds outside your chambers - by design, you assumed, as Aegon seemed intent on understanding why you’d been avoiding him, for reasons you could not fathom - and you nearly allowed yourself to ask why he seemed so desperate for an answer, when it was he who began the whole ordeal.

Violet eyes studied you, settled on your face and searched for something - anything - in lieu of an answer to an unspoken question, a question even he couldn’t seem to form. You nearly shrank beneath the intensity as Aegon finally uttered, “You are my wife. Nothing about you is burdensome.”

Though the words were soft, sincere in a way you did not expect, you found yourself unable to stop the bubble of laughter that erupted from your throat. “A relief.” The comment was biting, sarcastic in a way you’d never been with Aegon, and he frowned - wounded, violet eyes sad - as he regarded you.

“You do not believe me.” It was not a question and the realization seemed to do little to settle him.

Aegon was not someone you spoke openly with, not someone you shared your feelings with, but you couldn’t help yourself. Exhaustion set in and your desire for propriety was long gone. Instead of feigning acceptance, you simply reached for your wine and offered him a sad smile. “I often feel my presence is little more than a burden your family insists you bear.”

“That’s not true.” A near whisper, though the declaration held far more conviction than you ever imagined Aegon capable of. The hurt was no longer prominent in his sad eyes, replaced, instead, by disbelief - anguish, nearly, that you believed your words to be true. “Surely, you don’t believe that.”

Eager to move on, to keep from sharing your innermost feelings with Aegon in a way that you would surely come to regret when he drunkenly spilled them to the entirety of the realm, you shook your head. “It does not matter what I believe,” you declared, waving a hand to rid yourself of the conversation. “I fear there are more pressing matters at hand than my feelings. Court has been… enlightening.”

For a moment, you feared Aegon may not allow you to move on - that he may dwell on the subject until you broke, shed the tears that stung at the backs of your eyes. He seemed eager to push, to argue, but after a nearly uncomfortable stretch of silence, he finally asked, “What have you learned?”

The question was hollow, detached, and you nearly apologized. Instead, you turned your attention to the stack of notes on the table.

“Every solution the crown offers only seems to create a dozen more problems,” you related, sighing as you poured more wine before nudging the cup across the table toward him. “For every petition answered, a dozen more appear in its place.”

Aegon sighed, momentarily redirected, and reached for the cup with a nod of thanks. “We’re learning the same things, then,” he announced, rubbing at his eyes. “There is not enough grain or land or livestock. The winters are too cold, the summers too harsh, boundary stones are being moved and duels are breaking out over cows grazing on the wrong grass.”

The complaints were similar to the ones you heard, though yours were more nuanced - filled with heartbreaking accounts of cruelty and anger.

“The men are cruel, taxes too high, inheritance laws unfair; I’m sure we’re hearing similar stories.”

“The men are cruel?” Aegon frowned, hand pausing midway to his mouth as he blinked, uncertain as to what you meant.

“Mm. The men share the complaints about taxes, I’m sure, and maybe inheritance laws, but the women have unique concerns,” you explained, brushing a hand across your nightgown in an effort to distract yourself. “Alysanne decreed an end to the First Night but it seems the decree only held for royal or highborn women. Lesser ladies only escape the ritual if they have a kind husband. And inheritance laws mean second or third or even fourth wives are left with nothing if a husband dies, unless she or her husband has kind relatives.” Aegon frowned as he returned the cup to the table and shifted in his seat to get a better look at you. “Marriage is a political alliance for most,” you informed him, though you assumed he already knew. “But, for others, it’s a means of survival.”

“Gods,” Aegon sighed, “what did my father do all those years? Nothing seems to have changed. It’s all fucking miserable.” He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands for a brief moment, before he returned his gaze to you. “They told you all of this?”

“They did,” you confirmed, sighing as you clasped your hands together to keep from reaching for him. “I believe they just wanted someone to listen.” For a moment, you simply studied him - your gaze sweeping across his face, eagerly drinking in the soft look in his eyes - before you laughed, a soft sound lacking mirth. “I suppose I am lucky,” you confessed, standing to begin your journey to Alicent’s chambers for your nightly tea with her, Helaena, and the children.

“You’re married to the king,” Aegon surmised, standing to follow - to head for his own chambers, or perhaps out of the Keep.

“No.” With a shake of your head, you paused to meet his eyes. “I would be just as happy as a lady,” you confessed, watching as he frowned. “I am lucky because, even though you do not love me, you are at least kind to me. That is more than I could have asked for, more than most women hope for.” Aegon blinked, violet eyes going wide as his lips parted in preparation to respond, but you gave him a tight smile. “It’s alright,” you assured him, straightening your robe. “I’ve accepted my fate and am grateful for your kindness. I would not ask more. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

With quick steps and a racing heart, you left Aegon standing in the middle of your chambers with blinking eyes and parted lips. There would be time later to dwell on how much you said, how awful you felt for confessing such a thing, but you did not imagine it would be before the tourney ended.

However, you were surprised to find a request from Aegon the next morning - the king wished for you to join him in his chambers to break fast, as early as you were ready.

The request itself was odd - in the eleven moons you’d been married, you’d only broken fast together once or twice, and always after Aegon woke. Part of you feared you’d offended him, that you might finally become acquainted with his infamous temper, while the other part feared the rats shared your conversation with Alicent and this was her doing. There was little you could do to calm your racing heart as you considered both possibilities, neither pleasant and neither comforting.

Either way, you hurried through your morning routine. A part of you wanted to make him wait, to take your time or even send your regrets with the excuse that you had other plans. The greater part, however, knew it was better to get the whole ordeal over with and pushed you to your way to Aegon’s chambers - skin alight with an unfamiliar warmth as you did so.

Though you half expected to find Aegon still asleep, he was stood - pacing, silver hair clean and brushed - waiting.

As you entered, heart thundering in your chest, Aegon stopped in his tracks. “Good morrow, my queen,” he greeted with a tentative smile and an outstretched hand. “How did you sleep?”

Without thought, you accepted Aegon’s outstretched hand and allowed him to guide you to the table. He pulled out the chair beside his own, one you’d never before occupied, and gestured for you to sit. As you did, you noticed that the table held most of your favorite foods - items you normally requested for your own morning meal - and you nearly forgot the question as you turned to meet Aegon’s gaze.

With a great effort, you attempted to mask the confusion you felt. “Fine,” you assured him, offering a smile you hope he believed real. “And you?”

Undeterred by the obvious concern in your tone, Aegon nodded. “Fine,” he parroted, reaching for the tea to pour you a cup. “No wandering in the night for you?”

A confused curiosity filled you, settling into the pit of your stomach alongside a sinking feeling you couldn’t quite make sense of. There was no reason for Aegon to care - none that made sense to you, anyway - but being at the center of his attention, if only for a moment, sent your heart soaring.

So, with a rueful laugh, you shook your head and decided to humor him. “No, not last night.” Aegon hummed as he offered you a piece of fruit - your favorite, though you weren’t sure if he remembered it from the early days of your marriage or if a servant simply filled the table with things you liked - as you continued. “It seems some of the lords and ladies wished to see the riverwalk after I spoke so highly of it. They are curious what it is that calls to me.”

Aegon winced, his violet eyes flashing with regret as he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he declared, eyes cast down and lips curved into a frown. “I did not mean to…”

With a tight smile, you nodded. “I know,” you assured him. He’d been drunk, caught up in conversation with Lord Tyrell - who seemed to bring out the worst in him - and you did not blame him. Not entirely. “It’s for the best, anyway,” you continued, shrugging. “Alicent has chided me relentlessly for wandering about alone so late. I do not wish to face another of her lectures. I suppose I’ll just read, instead.”

The pair of you shared an understanding laugh - though your lectures were, doubtlessly, far kinder than any Aegon had ever received - before his thoughtful frown returned.

For a moment, Aegon allowed his searching gaze to sweep across your skin. There was a question written on his face, one he seemed unable to articulate, that he sought an answer to. Finally, he asked, “The reason you wander, is because you can’t sleep?” When you sighed, sipping your tea instead of denying what he now realized to be true, Aegon’s frowned deepened. “Is it the sound of the water or the cool air you seek, on the riverwalk?”

When he affixed you with wide eyes, a look that begged for the truth, you sighed. “The sound is soothing, but I wish for the cool air, more than anything. I leave my windows open when I can but as the air grows colder, someone will catch a glimpse and I am scolded - reminded by the maesters again and again that I could fall ill any time a breeze blows. It’s as if they forget I’m from the North.”

At your indignant huff, Aegon laughed - a soft sound that you’d missed dearly - before his thoughtful frown returned. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

Aegon’s concern left you mildly unsettled, confused, as you searched for an appropriate answer.

“We married in winter,” you finally reminded him, shrugging lightly. “I slept well enough then and we haven’t spoken about it since.” We haven’t spoken much at all since went unsaid but Aegon’s wince assured you he heard it, just the same. “It does not matter anyway,” you continued, “as there’s nothing to do but wait for cooler weather. I’m growing used to the heat. I wander a bit, cool off, and return to my chambers. Ser Cole was the only one to notice my absence. If he hadn’t said anything, no one would’ve known.”

“I’m sorry.”

The apology caught you entirely off guard and you found yourself turning to face Aegon with a frown. “What for?” With a laugh, you reached for your cup once more. “You’re the king, but you cannot control the weather. I will just savor the cool air whenever it appears.”

“I did not even know you wandered until Cole told me,” he confessed, swirling the cup of tea in his hand. His brows furrowed in frustration - though, you could tell it was not directed at you as he huffed. “I should’ve known you were not sleeping.”

With a sigh, you shook your head. “Just as you cannot control the weather, you cannot expect to know my every waking move. There are more important things to concern yourself with.”

“I’m your husband. You are my most pressing concern,” he declared, words soft - guilty. “I should know all there is to know about you.” Before you could argue - something Aegon could see written clearly on your face - he continued. “The next time you find yourself unable to sleep, perhaps I could wander with you. I do not enjoy the cold but I will brave it with you,” he offered, a hopeful smile lifting the corner of his mouth as wide violet eyes met yours.

A spiteful comment lingered on the tip of your tongue - certainly, if you are in the Keep and not lost in the streets of silk - but you swallowed it with a sip of tea. “Of course,” you agreed easily, though you had no intention of seeking him out when sleep inevitably refused you once more.

Sleep would only be harder to find when coupled with disappointment.

Regardless of your intention, Aegon seemed settled by your easy agreement. Assured - of what, you were uncertain - he turned the conversation to the remaining days of the tourney and began to eat as you began to worry.

Though all you’d wanted for nearly a year was Aegon’s attention, having it in spades made you overwhelmingly suspicious. There was little about the situation that brought you joy or comfort. If anything, it set you more on edge than you’d been since stepping foot into the Keep.

There was a part of you - the rational, pragmatic part - that understood. Aegon wanted to keep up appearances. Alicent and Otto had spent much of his life instilling in him the importance of maintaining an image. What happened in the privacy of the Keep when the crowds departed did not matter, so long as they all believed the happy facade put on for their benefit.

It made sense, then, why he insisted on breaking fast with you - so the lords and ladies would see you depart from his chambers - and why he insisted on escorting you to dinner. It even made sense to you why his hand found yours when you were amongst the crowd of revelers at dinner.

The part that worried you, however, was the attention he paid you when no one was looking.

Just as he had in the beginning of your marriage, Aegon’s hand brushed yours in passing as he went his way while you went your own. Throughout the day, you felt his intense gaze on you - searing into your skin across a crowded room, across the field as you spoke with the ladies of the realm when he should’ve been watching the tourney. And when night fell, he escorted you back to your chambers after dinner and sat with you, sometimes without so much as a word shared, until you deemed it time for bed.

For two days, Aegon paid more attention to you than he had over the course of your entire marriage - all without drowning in his cups.

And by the final day of the tournament, you found yourself utterly exhausted.

Being surrounded by people - those who meant well and those who certainly did not - was enough of a discomfort. The sometimes curious, sometimes accusing, sometimes pitying gazes of the lords and ladies of the realm set you on edge. But attempting to make sense of Aegon’s sudden burst of attention was what kept you awake at night.

Every reason you considered made little sense. 

Initially, you assumed it was Alicent’s doing. However, the moment she expressed her surprise at Aegon’s sudden change of heart, you found yourself more perplexed. She seemed assured, however, certain that her eldest son was finally settling, and rejoiced at the sight of Aegon escorting you to the gathering of women two mornings in a row.

Aemond also seemed surprised, though his was better hidden than his mother’s as he watched Aegon offer you a hand to pull you into the fray of dancing bodies. And your assumption that it was he who’d spoken with his brother vanished into thin air the moment his violet eye met yours - a question of ‘what’s happening’ dancing curiously in it.

All logic failed you, each conclusion vanished as quickly as it arrived, and you found yourself confused and alone - away from the madness so that you might catch your breath and think.

However, you were not left alone for very long.

Without warning, no guard and no crowds of people vying for his attention, Aegon approached you as you sat far from the madness of the tourney.

The Conqueror’s crown glimmered atop his head, silver and ruby shimmering in the sunlight, and he looked the part of king. Royalty suited him, you decided - his features regal, his poise now unencumbered by drink as he’d done his best to remain sober in your presence - though you kept the thought to yourself as you bit back a sigh at his presence.

Aegon had taken to asking you what was wrong - a question he took seriously, as he attempted to remedy whatever it was that bothered you - but you turned to him before he could.

“What does it feel like?” The question was asked in desperation, a deep-seated desire to turn the conversation away from yourself - a need to return to some semblance of normalcy, despite his newfound attention - and Aegon’s brows furrowed. “Riding a dragon,” you elaborated, gesturing to Sunfyre in the distance. His prized dragon had been brought from the Dragonpit to be seen, marveled at; the most beautiful dragon in the realm, the king’s pride. “I’ve asked Aemond and Helaena, even Daeron,” you confessed. “They all say the feeling is indescribable.”

For a moment, Aegon regarded you with a smile - something bright and true, genuinely happy; something you saw little of in him - before he turned to glance at his golden dragon. “Do you want to try it,” he began, stepping closer and tipping his head to meet your eyes, “find out for yourself?”

With a hollow laugh, and a touch of fear at the prospect, you shook your head. “A beautiful thought, to be sure,” you acknowledged, “but if I stepped closer, I fear I would only learn what death by dragon fire feels like.”

Unbothered, Aegon stepped even closer - his arm now brushing yours. “If you stepped closer to Vhagar, surely, but Sunfyre is less inclined to violence,” he teased, sparing his dragon an admiring glance. “He listens well and will take to you, so long as you are with me.” When you frowned, uncertain, Aegon smiled softly and reached for your hand. “I should’ve introduced you sooner,” he hummed, apologetic as he squeezed your hand, “but we will just have to make up for lost time.”

Slowly, carefully - for your benefit, you realized, as Sunfyre seemed entirely aware of Aegon no matter how he moved - your husband guided you across the field to where Sunfyre rested. The keepers offered you both polite greetings before stepping aside to allow Aegon to interact with his dragon, unbothered.

Though his commands were nowhere near as sharp as the ones you’d heard from Aemond, nor as fluid as those you’d heard from Helaena, Aegon’s word still struck a chord with Sunfyre. His High Valyrian was clumsy, almost broken, but Sunfyre still responded just as eagerly as the others - if not more so - as the great beast made a rumbling noise and nudged Aegon in the chest.

Aegon cooed, returning the greeting happily as he offered the dragon a few soft strokes of his hand, and you felt a smile curve your lips - in spite of the thundering of your heart at your proximity to such a fearsome creature.

“Give me your hand,” Aegon urged, turning his head to glance at you when Sunfyre settled and turned a great eye upon you. “He trusts you because I do.”

With a tentative step, you moved closer to Aegon. He accepted your outstretched hand eagerly, tugging you closer, and placed a steady and on your waist. Every inch of your skin felt warm - from the great breaths Sunfyre took, warm air billowing around you; or from the heat of Aegon’s body pressed to yours, unfamiliar and easily stealing the breath from your lungs as his hand stroked your waist to calm you.

Aegon tipped his head to offer you a reassuring smile before turning his attention to Sunfyre once more. With a few quiet words - mostly in Valyrian, though a few words in the common tongue caught your ear - Sunfyre lifted his large head and repeated the affectionate gesture he’d shown Aegon.

A noise resembling a purr escaped the large beast and, with Aegon’s hand still clasping yours, your hand was pressed to his scales.

For a single, nerve wracking moment, you waited - half-afraid Sunfyre might turn on you, temper as unpredictable as his rider - but when he simply leaned into your touch, you exhaled slowly. “He’s beautiful,” you whispered, voice awed as your fingers trailed lightly across the warm patch of golden scales. “And so warm.”

The moment Aegon’s hand released yours, it fell to your waist as his chin rested atop your shoulder. Sunfyre rumbled another pleasant noise, as if he understood the compliment, and you laughed. “See? Nothing to fear.”

“You are well matched, I believe,” you nearly whispered, as if Aegon had not spoken at all. “The most beautiful dragons in all the realm.” The compliment escaped without your notice, unintentional, but Aegon’s hands squeezed your waist gently as he inhaled just a bit too sharp.

“He is beautiful,” Aegon agreed easily, reaching out to stroke the scales just above where your hand rested - thankfully sidestepping your compliment of him. “He’s also quick and loves to soar over the sea, something that reminds me of you.”

Sunfyre released another contented noise, happily basking in the attention, as you hummed thoughtfully. “The view must be incredible,” you whispered, still in awe of the beautiful creature before you. “I’m not sure how you find the strength to return to the ground.”

“It helps to have something worth returning for.” Aegon’s declaration was soft, as was his gaze as violet eyes fell to you. “Do you want to see for yourself? You’ll be safe, I promise. There is nowhere safer, in fact.”

The prospect of riding a dragon set your heart beating overtime once more and brought butterflies to your stomach. It was terrifying - and tantalizing - and you could not understand why Aegon offered. Still, you tipped your head and offered him a playful smile. “Do not let Vhagar hear you,” you teased, voice nowhere near as strong as you hoped it would be. “She might take offense.”

“The old beast is asleep in a field, she couldn’t hear me if I stood right next to her.” Aegon grinned at you - expression brightening considerably when you laughed - before he stepped away. His hands left your waist but grasped your own, fingers intertwining with your own, as he guided you to the rope connected to Sunfyre’s saddle. “Come, my queen. We won’t be missed.”

A lie - his absence would be noticed immediately - but you said nothing.

Conflicting feelings swirled in the pit of your stomach as you allowed Aegon to help you climb into the saddle. There was fear - a natural instinct, when faced with the prospect of riding a dragon - and doubt, uncertainty as to your safety. There was concern, an ever-present wonder as to why Aegon seemed so intent upon getting you to bond with his dragon. There was worry, a curiosity as to why Aegon was acting the part of husband you so desperately wanted.

But, above all else, there was an overwhelming happiness.

Excitement coursed through your veins as Aegon helped you situate yourself in the saddle, despite your dress not being appropriate riding gear. Warmth coursed through your veins as he settled in behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and offering you a bright smile as you turned your head to glance at him.

The reason why mattered so little when it felt so intoxicating in the moment.

Though the question danced on the tip of your tongue - more of a demand, a need to know what had changed - you kept quiet as Aegon spared a few words for Sunfyre.

With an eager rumble, the dragon began to stand.

“Ready?”

Before you could answer - nod your agreement or beg to be returned to the ground - Aegon shouted a command you couldn’t understand. The golden beast took a few steps forward before bolting toward the sky, clearly as eager to fly as his rider.

As you hurtled toward the sky, your heart leapt into your throat and making any noise at all seemed impossible.

Though you would’ve agonized over the decision any other time, there wasn’t a single thought in your mind as you reached for Aegon’s arm. You held - perhaps too tight, you realized, as your nails bit into the leather of his riding jacket - and held your breath as the burnt, fading colors of foliage began to give way to the white stone of the city and then the dark water of the bay.

Cool air rushed around you, growing cooler the higher you climbed, and you delighted in the contrast of it biting at your skin as Aegon’s warmth bled into your back.

Part of you wanted to close your eyes, to savor the feeling of weightlessness as Sunfyre began to level out and soar above the water, while the rational par demanded you keep them open and drink in the sight of King’s Landing from above.

There was no guarantee you would have another opportunity to witness the beauty below you.

The city you’d grown to early loathe - the streets of silk that claimed your husband, the stench that sometimes wafted through your open window - was undeniably beautiful atop Sunfyre’s back. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind, though none seemed to provide an adequate description of the beauty below you.

Rather than attempt to speak, you simply breathed deeply and reveled in the quiet.

Atop Sunfyre, everything you’d spent nearly a year agonizing over seemed to fade into nothing. It all seemed so trivial, so meaningless, when the world was so vast and beautiful.

For a moment, you understood what your husband’s siblings meant - there was certainly no other feeling in the world that could compare to the experience at hand.

As you caught your breath, lungs filling entirely for the first time since leaving White Harbor, Aegon remained quiet behind you. For the first time, his silence was entirely comfortable - not something to be wary of, not something for you remedy. It was blissful, a shared joy, and you appreciated it.

Aegon’s chin rested atop your shoulder once more, blonde curls brushing your skin, and as you glance out at the dark water, you were nearly convinced it was all just a beautiful dream.

Having Aegon so close, his affection flowing so freely - his attention so rapt, so complete - was al you’d wanted for longe than you cared to admit. However, now that you had it, you were uncertain of what to do with it. You remained suspicious, concerned there was some sort of string attached to his affection, but a he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, you felt your concern begin to melt away.

It had been so long since Aegon kissed you, so long since he offered any kind of affection, that you couldn’t help yourself.

With a turn of your head, your gaze met his. As Sunfyre soared, you felt your heart begin to beat just a touch faster when Aegon leaned to press his mouth to yours. The kiss was soft, nearly chaste, and you could feel the familiar ache in your chest at the gentle nature of it. There was something so intimate about the gesture, something that meant more than all the attention in the realm, and you struggled to blink back your tears as Aegon broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours.

Everything around you ceased to exist with those violet eyes trained on yours.

Sunfyre rumbled a pleased noise - something bright and joyful - and Aegon smiled as he tipped his head to glance at the golden dragon. With your husband distracted, you swallowed the emotion lingering in the back of your throat and held tight to the saddle as the flight continued.

Just as you’d imagined, there was little desire to return to the ground - to the life that awaited you both, the crowds of people seeking your company, the expectations that overruled your happiness - but with a single command from Aegon, Sunfyre began to descend all too soon.

Though the flight had been short, nothing more than a quick trip around King’s Landing, it meant the world to you.

And when you landed, your feet firmly on the ground and Sunfyre returned to the keepers, Aegon’s expectant gaze met yours. “Well,” he began, smile knowing, “what did it feel like?”

“I fear I owe your siblings an apology. It was truly indescribable,” you admitted, heart still pounding in your chest - though you weren’t certain if it was from the adrenaline or the way Aegon was looking at you, bright eyes so intent on your face. “King’s Landing is beautiful from above. And I believe Sunfyre is the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.”

“Dragon, certainly,” Aegon agreed easily, stepping closer and bringing his hand to your waist. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

The compliment was nothing more than flattery, almost certainly untrue - he’d spent his nights with Lyseni women whose beaut was famed - and shattered the moment entirely. Reality crept back in, startling you back into your own body, and drew the tears you’d been keeping at bay since the kiss.

With a shake of your head, you attempted to pull away from him as you lifted a hand to brush at your cheeks. “Aegon,” you whispered, voice cracking as you addressed him by name for the first time in several moons, “please, don’t.”

Like a strong wave, every emotion you’d felt over the course of your marriage crashed into you.

Each feeling was stronger than the last, shattering your resolve with astounding ease, and you could see the flash of panic in Aegon’s eyes as he stepped closer. The nudge you offered in response was weak, nowhere near strong enough to dissuade him, and Aegon ignored the gesture completely as he began to guide you back to the Keep.

Neither of you wanted the moment to be witnessed - Aegon did not wish for his mother’s ire, as she knew your tears were his fault, nor did he wish for more speculation on behalf of the realm; you did not wish for more pitying gazes - so you allowed him to steer you through the halls without complaint.

Aegon guided you through the halls of the Red Keep, stepping without thought in the direction of his chambers. However, before he could turn down the hall leading to his door, he seemed to think better of his destination. Instead, with a few retraced steps, he turned and guided you to your own chambers.

The moment the door shut behind you, effectively sealing you both away from the realm, Aegon did something he’d never before done - he wrapped both arms around your waist and held you tight to his chest.

It was a clumsy gesture, almost uncertain, and crushed your arms to your body, but you appreciated it, just the same. His proximity did little to stop the tears that spilled, though you pleaded with your body to offer you some sort of respite, and Aegon made a broken noise as his own eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Please, don’t cry,” he whispered, voice quiet in the still of your room. “I’m sorry.”

Despite yourself - despite the truth you both saw plainly - you shook your head. “Not your fault,” you denied, reflexively.

Aegon scoffed, wholly disbelieving, as he shook his head. “It is,” he acknowledged, tipping his head to press his forehead to yours the moment you glanced at him. “I have not been the husband you deserve. I have been no husband at all.”

For a moment, he seemed to falter - uncertain, unused to such emotion - before he lifted a hand to cup your cheek.

“I wanted to spare you,” he admitted, so earnest it made your chest ache. “This place, this life; it seems to make everyone fucking miserable. My mother was happier before she was queen, Helaena is happier when she is far from King’s Landing. There is no joy to be found here. I didn’t want to subject you to the same misery.”

The sincerity with which Aegon spoke struck you. He truly seemed to believe it - truly believed that he was sparing you - and you couldn’t help the fresh wave of tears that fell.

“As noble as your intentions may have been, I am here,” you reminded him, voice thick with emotion. “There is no sparing me, not when our lives were intertwined in front of the realm and in the eyes of the gods. It might be enjoyable if we sought happiness in one another.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever made anyone happy,” he confessed, voice a pained whisper, “as a son, a king; certainly not as a husband.”

“You have made me happy,” you asserted, brows furrowing. When he frowned, disbelieving, you gestured to the embroidery of Sunfyre adorning his doublet. “Soaring over the city with you on Sunfyre was the most joy I’ve felt in all my time in King’s Landing and I felt it because of you. The first few moons of our marriage, you were kind - affectionate, present - and that made me happy. The past few days, you’ve been kind again, you’ve been with me, and my heart felt as if it might burst. Being with you made me happy, Aegon.”

Aegon’s eyes fell shut, his breath stuttering as he shook his head slightly. “I know less about being a husband than I do about being king,” he confessed, violet eyes glassy as they reopened. “I’m afraid I’ll only disappoint you.”

“You’ve never been a husband, nor have you been a king, just as I have never been a wife or a queen,” you reminded him, tone gentle. “I also know little of either role but I want to learn. With time, both will become easier, but learning together would make me happy. I don’t want perfection, Aegon. All I want, all I have wanted, is you.”

“And I you,” he agreed, quickly - easily, his hand squeezing your hip. “I am not too late, then?”

“I’ve spent the last few moons wishing to hate you,” you confessed, lifting a hand to caress his cheek - your heart aching in your chest as he flinched, expecting a blow instead. After a moment, he leaned into the caress and you struggled to keep yourself from crying once more. “I wanted nothing more than to feel indifferent, or even angry, in your presence. But all I’ve wanted is your love. I’ve taken what little of you you would give but I want all of you. I fear it will never be too late, not when my heart belongs entirely to you.”

“How can you love me, after all I’ve done?” Sad violet eyes met yours, downcast and filled with a self-loathing you understood all too well, as he leaned into your touch.

“Because love is irrational. It lives in the heart, not the mind, and my heart has been yours for a long while.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

The whisper sharpened the ache in your chest, made your heart hurt for Aegon, as you caressed his cheek. Your thumb brushed away a few errant tears, brushed the dark circles beneath his eyes, as you studied him. His drunken words, whispered in the dim of his chambers, returned to you and you sighed as you met his eyes. “You do. You deserve love, Aegon.”

The declaration hung in the air for a long moment, lingering between you in a silence that seemed to stretch endlessly, before Aegon moved. He surged forward, eager to press his mouth to yours in another kiss.

This kiss, unlike the soft display atop Sunfyre, was desperate. It brought forth every emotion you both struggled to make sense of and stole the breath from your lungs. It was searching, starving, and you allowed it to consume you completely  as Aegon’s grip on your waist grew tighter and you hand moved to tangle in his hair.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the turn you day would take, for the onslaught of Aegon’s desperate affection, for the sheer force of his kiss, but you surrendered to it without thought.

Even as your lungs burned with the need for air, as your chest ached and your skin felt as if it were blistering, you refused to part from him. And, to your surprise, Aegon seemed just as reluctant.

Each breath was stolen with lips only inches apart, with violet eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

Whereas affection had been nonexistent for so long, it seemed as if the dam had broken and you were both desperate for some semblance of the other’s love.

Despite Aegon’s emotional whispers, his open display of concern, you could feel the doubt lingering in the back of your mind as he walked you backward. While he navigated your room with an ease that should’ve surprised you, you wondered what might happen in the aftermath.

How long would Aegon’s affection last before you were left alone again?

As if sensing your hesitation, Aegon broke from the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours as you approached your bed. He took a moment to breathe - to allow you to breathe - before he whispered another apology. “I can’t change what I’ve done,” he acknowledged, “how I’ve treated you. But I can be better. I will be.”

Before you could speak - and say what, you did not know - Aegon recaptured your lips in another searing kiss.

With a practiced ease, he unlaced the ties of your gown - Hightower green, laced with the gold of his dragon - and brushed the fabric from your shoulders.

Unlike the night of the feast, Aegon took a long moment to study you as you stood before him in only your small clothes. And when you attempted to cover yourself - arms stretch across your chest, your stomach, your hips - Aegon gripped your wrists.

“Please, don’t hide from me. I want to see you.”

Wide violet eyes met yours, so sincere in their desire, and you found yourself unable to deny him. With a nod, you relaxed your arms - allowing them to fall to your sides when Aegon released you - and he hummed, a pleased sound that warmed you from within.

Though you only laid together a handful of times, and though Aegon had been attentive in the beginning, no experience compared to the one at hand.

There was a desperation in his touch, an eagerness you’d never before witnessed, and your breath grew harder to catch as Aegon crowded closer. His lips - chapped, but warm and not entirely unpleasant - pressed to every inch of skin he could find; your cheek, your chin, the column of your throat, your shoulder. He inhaled deeply and laughed, a surprised sound, as his gaze lifted to meet yours.

“You stink of dragon,” he teased, eyes glimmering with a mirth you’d missed - a lighthearted joy you hoped would remain - as his words recalled the words you leveled at him in the early days of your marriage. “It suits you, my queen.”

“A worthwhile exchange,” you assured him, hand returning to his hair as he nosed at the hinge of your jaw.

“We’ll ride again,” he promised you, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “Any time you want, all you need is to ask.”

Aegon pressed you back, then, allowing the backs of your knees to press against the footboard of the bed, and you squealed as he tipped you toward the soft bedding. When you rested on the bed, legs hanging over the end, Aegon followed you down.

“Look at you,” he hummed, voice low as he ghosted kisses across your skin, “my queen of ice, melting beneath your dragon’s touch.”

Without thought, you heard yourself ask, “Are you?” Doubt still lingered in the back of your mind.

Though his lips pressed to your skin, Aegon responded with a somewhat distracted, “Am I what?”

“My dragon?”

The possessive was clear, easy to hear, and the question was unmistakable. The doubt that lingered shined bright, obvious, and Aegon sighed as he continued to press kisses to your skin.

“I am yours,” he promised, fingers lacing with yours as his lips pressed to the warm column of your throat, “entirely.”

It was not a promise you could yet believe, not a promise that you would allow yourself to fall victim to, and he seemed to understand your reluctance as you whispered, “Aegon…”

“I know,” he confirmed, tone softening as he continued pressing kisses to your heated skin. He trailed down your chest, blazing a path down your stomach and over your hips, and the beat of your heart pounding in your ears nearly drowned out the words he spoke. “I’ve been a terrible husband,” he acknowledged, violet eyes lifting to meet yours. “Worst of all, I’ve not exposed you to the most incredible joy of marriage - pleasure,” he declared, sinking to his knees at the foot of the bed. “But, from now on, I devote myself to seeking pleasure with you.”

A breath caught in your throat. Though your thoughts were muddled, uncertain - rational thought disappearing with each kiss he pressed to your skin - your stomach flipped at the potential weight of his declaration. “Does that… are you…?” The question would not escape, mostly for fear of misunderstanding, but Aegon understood.

“No more streets of silk,” he whispered, lips pressing to the heated skin just above your knee, “no Flea Bottom. You are the only one I want, the only one I need.” There was a certainty in his voice, a desperate need for you to understand, but you were hesitant. And when you blinked, uncertain, Aegon pressed his forehead to your heated skin. “You have no reason to believe me, to trust me, but I will prove myself to you. I will be worthy of you.”

“Oh, Aegon,” you sighed, fingers carding through the silver strand of his hair as he busied himself with pressing eager kisses to every inch of skin he could reach - lighting a fire that burned bright within you. “You are worthy.”

Aegon hummed, acknowledging he’d heard you, before he returned his gaze to yours. He searched, for just a moment, before he confessed, “I’ve been drinking, waiting while the knights and squires enjoy themselves. I’ve not… The only whores I’ve bedded as of late are the ones that look like you and even that is not enough.”

“The night of the feast,” you whispered, nodding. “You marveled at how much I looked like your wife.”

“Gods,” he huffed with a shake of his head, “I hoped that was you. I wasn’t sure. It felt like a dream, seeing you in my bed. I… I’ve been frustrated, as of late. I thought you would not want me. When you told me you felt as if you were little more than a burden I must bear, I… All I’ve wanted is you. I’m sorry I allowed you to believe otherwise.”

“Then have me,” you encouraged, as an understanding began to creep into your mind. “Take what you need from me, my love.”

Aegon’s fingers dug into the plush of your thigh, grounding himself to the moment for fear it was all a dream - something pleasant he would wake from violently, with his mother ripping the sheets from his body or his grandsire yelling insults at him - before glassy violet eyes lifted to meet yours.

“You are kinder to me than you should be.”

“Love is meant to be kind,” you whispered, your heart aching as he clung to you. “I want to be kind to you.”

For a long moment, Aegon simply stared at you. Words seemed to fail him - all thought lost to the ether as your statement lingered in the silence - but you both knew he preferred action.

Without sparing another moment, he returned his attention to your body, splayed just for him.

In the beginning, though he was attentive - pressed kisses to your cheeks, your lips, your throat - Aegon offered little in the way of true pleasure. Sex was a duty, a chore you shared in an attempt to secure an heir for the throne, but this was something else entirely.

Little seemed to exist outside of the pair of you. All you could find the strength to focus on was the eager press of Aegon’s mouth to your heated skin. 

The warmth you felt was unfamiliar, indescribable, as he pressed his mouth to the plush of your inner thigh. He nipped at the sensitive skin, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh, and you could feel a fluttering in the pit of your stomach as his eyes began to darken. 

With each nip of his teeth, with each swipe of his tongue, you allowed quiet gasps to fall from your lips unbidden and each noise only spurred him on.

And as his fingers tugged at the fabric hiding you from his searching gaze, you resisted the urge to cover yourself and, instead, relaxed beneath his touch. Though you felt an overwhelming vulnerability, you were offering Aegon the opportunity to earn the trust he sought. 

“My beautiful wife,” he whispered, fingers digging into the plush of your thigh as he spared you a glance. “I intend to make up for lost time when our guests leave us. For now, I’ll settle for introducing you to pleasure.”

Before you could question him, Aegon leaned in and licked a stripe along the length of your slit with the flat of his tongue. Your fingers tugged at his hair as a gasp escaped your lips, and you could feel his mouth curve into a grin as he settled between your thighs. The sensation was new, odd but you hated the thought of losing it as he licked at you leisurely.

Though your absence had doubtlessly been noticed, Aegon was clearly in no rush.

Settled between your thighs, he seemed to struggle to decide whether to close his eyes and enjoy himself or keep them open and watch the bewildered look on your face morph into unabashed pleasure as his hand lifted and his thumb pressed to your clit. As your thighs jerked, fingers gripping his hair tighter, Aegon hummed against you.

“Better than the sweetest wine,” he mumbled, words muffled by your skin a he lapped at your leaking arousal.

Every swipe of his tongue, every press of his fingers, sent shockwaves down your spine. Your skin felt warm, feverish, and you suddenly found yourself understanding the few women who eagerly disappeared with husbands who lavished them with affection.

Pleasure was something foreign - a concept you’d only read about - but the experience was better than you could’ve imagined as Aegon eagerly sank into you. His fingers began searching, gathering the slick that coated his lips and chin, and pressed to your entrance. As you tensed, preparing for the uncomfortable intrusion, Aegon hummed.

“Relax for me,” he whispered, warm breath fanning over your skin and earning him a shiver. “This will feel good,” he promised. “Let me make it good for you.”

With a little effort, you attempted to relax beneath Aegon’s touch. It was difficult, when the only experience you had to call upon was the discomfort of your earlier encounters, but he seemed so earnest. And, as he waited, he continued lapping at the slick gathered between your thighs.

Throughly distracted by the press of his tongue to your aching cunt, the foreign sensation of warmth in the pit of your stomach, you managed to keep from tensing as Aegon pressed a finger to your entrance.

The ease of his touch was different than the quick, rough thrusts you’d grown used to and you found yourself sighing in a mixture of relief and pleasure as his thumb rubbed circles over the bundle of nerves. As foreign as the entire experience felt, you found yourself enjoying it more with every passing moment.

Until, however, a pressure began to build at the base of your spine.

When you tensed, gasping as you attempted to make sense of the new sensation, Aegon cooed. “Don’t fight it, my love,” he urged, fingers continuing to press into you - touch further igniting the spark blazing across your skin. “Let go for me.”

With a cry of pleasure, a noise you lifted a hand to cover, you felt the blaze swallow you whole. Aegon pressed forward, eagerly lapping up your release, and your vision began to white around the edges as he hummed.

For a moment, everything ceased to exist.

There was only the ragged sound of your breathing and the uneven thump of your heart as you attempted to make sense of the intense warmth you felt. 

All too suddenly, however, a pang of discomfort drew your attention back to Aegon whose teeth sank into the soft flesh of your hip. “That was your peak,” he explained, grinning as his thumb continued to rub soft circles over the bundle of nerves - eyes glimmering with an unrestrained joy with every twitch of your limbs. “How did it feel?”

Unable to make proper sense of your own thoughts, and unable to choose your words with your usual careful precision, you hummed. “Fine,” you whispered, though your twitching thighs and hips chasing his touch as he pulled away betrayed you. He met your lackluster review with a raised brow, waiting for elaboration. “I think I need another to truly understand the joy of it.”

A laugh, genuine and all too pleased, escaped Aegon as he stood. He made quick work of his own clothing, pushing the fabric to the ground without a care, as he shook his head. “I’m afraid you were meant to be my wife,” he teased, climbing onto the bed to join you with a look that only served to bring a reader warmth to your skin. “And I’m afraid I’ll have to spend the rest of my life between your thighs, making up for lost time.”

“You’ve a duty to the realm,” you reminded him, though it sounded weak in your own ears - a flimsy rebuff as he tipped his head to press his mouth to your throat once more.

“Mm, but my first duty is to my wife and I’ve neglected her long enough. The realm can wait,” he announced.

Aegon settled above you and, for the first time, there was no stench of wine - no fumbling hands, no unsteady swaying. He was present, eager, and overwhelmingly affectionate as his mouth pressed to your heated skin. 

Any lingering doubt, any fear that this time might be like the few others, dissipated as his hand explored your heated skin. His touch was light, almost teasing, as his fingers brushed your chest, your stomach, your thighs. You could feel his lips curve into a smirk with every soft noise you made and, as something of a reward, his touch grew steadier the louder your noises grew.

“I want to hear you,” he assured you, his hand dipping between your spread thighs to gather the slick pooling there. “Sound divine, moaning for me.”

As he babbled, words of praise escaping his lips in a near incoherent stream - never once falling quiet, though you found yourself unsurprised - he reached for the base of his cock. The head dragged through your folds, gathering slick, before it notched at your entrance.

Unlike previous encounters, Aegon took his time sinking into you.

With one hand pressed into the mattress near your head, the other gripping your hip so tight you feared it would bruise, he pressed forward slowly - deliberately. There was no rush, no frantic urge to reach the end, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as his forehead pressed to yours.

The noise Aegon made rivaled your own and you found yourself lost in him.

Soft silver curls, disheveled from your fingers raking through them; darkened violet eyes, torn between watching your face and eying the way you took his cock; parted lips, swollen and red from kissing you - he looked beautiful, and you wasted no time telling him so as you lifted a hand to cup his cheek.

“So beautiful,” you whispered, voice cracking with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Aegon paused - slow, deliberate thrusts stopping - as he blinked in surprise. His lips parted, however, before he could speak, you offered him a reassuring smile. “My beautiful king,” you continued, fingers brushing his flushed cheeks, “my beautiful husband.”

A strangled noise escaped his throat at your compliment and his cheeks and chest flushed a deep pink, a stark contrast to the fine silver of his hair. In lieu of response, however, he simply lowered his head and pressed his lips to yours.

The hand on your hip moved, thumb returning to the bundle of nerves that sent shockwaves down your spine, and for the first time, you found yourself enjoying the moment.

There was no worry as to whether this would provide the realm the heir they so desperately wanted, no worry as to whether Aegon may leave you wanting - there was no worry at all. Instead, all you felt was a pleasant warmth, the eager press of your husband’s lips to yours and the weight of him atop you, and you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling as the pressure you’d felt earlier began to return.

Aegon seemed to be near his own end, his thrusts gaining speed and force - though it was still far more pleasant than anything you’d ever experienced - and his lips parted from yours as he inhaled sharply.

Time seemed to slow and speed, all at once. Everything blurred into a searing warmth, all-encompassing and overwhelming. The edges of your vision turned white and you felt yourself plunge headfirst into the depths of pleasure as Aegon buried his face in the crook of your neck. His own release followed yours, the end sweeter than anything either of you had experienced thus far, and you couldn’t help but cling to him as he buried himself deep inside.

For several long moments, Aegon remained above you - more of his weight pressing you into the mattress with every second that passed. You both fought to catch your breath, chests heaving and ears ringing, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled in your throat as he lifted his head to glance at you.

“I’m dying, and you’re laughing?” He rolled his eyes, though there was a fond warmth in the question as he pulled away to lay beside you.

Rather than placing distance between you, Aegon tugged you into his side - wrapped an arm around your waist and nearly hauled your body atop his - and returned his face to the crook of your neck as you laughed a bit harder. “I just, I didn’t know it could feel like that,” you explained, still marveling at the lingering warmth you felt.

Aegon remained silent for a long moment, seeming to gather his thoughts, before he sighed and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’m sorry. It should’ve been like that all along,” he declared, hand returning to your hip as he attempted to pull you closer. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, or make you unhappy, but that seems to be all I’ve done,” he lamented. “But I promise, that will change.”

“So long as you’re with me, I think I’ll be happy enough,” you assured him, reaching out to cup his cheek once more - smiling as he leaned in to the touch. “I was happy to be betrothed to you, you know. I thought you were handsome and funny, charming.” Aegon leaned in, then, and stole a soft kiss - unable to part from you now, it seemed, now that something had shifted - and you laughed as you sank into him. “Perhaps there will be another tourney come summer,” you hummed, lips barely parting from his, “to celebrate the king’s heir.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, nose brushing yours as violet eyes searched your face. “But heir or no, I’m glad to have you by my side.”

Though a small shred of doubt lingered in the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that made you nauseous, you swallowed it with a smile. Aegon’s attention was yours, his love was yours, and that was all you wanted. Certainty would come with time, with practice, and you were glad to spend as much time with him as he wanted.

The only thing you’d ever dreamt of - a husband that wanted you - was finally yours and, despite the rocky start to your marriage, you found yourself glad that it was Aegon.

_________________________________________________________

Author's Note: This may be fanon!Aegon but I just wanted something a little soft. He deserves some love. I was also a little nice to everyone but you know what, why not? It's fiction. Not sure how it got this long but here we are.

Taglist: @anaya-rhys, @holypeacecrown, @marvelously-flawed, @travelingmypassion, @letsgotothehop, @reynacrawford, @liannafae, @ffsg0jo

[earth4angels]

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when she saw him, she was only twelve with a bag of bread crumbs for her birds in the park. she thought he was beautiful and funny, he saw the world differently and there was never a moment he didn’t show her the beauty of it , she just didn’t think just how much pain he held inside.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: character death, blood, bullying, mentions of murder, gun violence, depression, hurt & comfort. childhood friends to lovers (kinda). miscommunications.

You first met Oliver Hide on a spring day, which ended up being a gloomy day. You did not mind, you loved to take walks after school to feed the birds at the park. It was always quiet, chirping and the low sounds of the wind was all you heard so when you found a boy around your age with his knees pressed against his chest, you stopped.

To question was wrong, but you couldn’t help to wonder why was he so sad? Why was he crying? You figured it was best to leave him be, your parents taught you to never meddle into anything that didn’t concern you. This was also a stranger.

As you backtracked, the leaves announced your departure. You winced when you saw the stranger’s head snap up from the bundle of sadness to look directly at you.

You offered a small smile filled with embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

The stranger sniffed, wiping his eyes fast before he got up. His voice groggy, raspy from the crying he had released. “Ts’ alright…”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. You shouldn’t, you really should go home and get home before dinner but you just didn’t like the way this boy’s face was filled with so much anguish. The look did not fit him.

To hell with it.

You bit your lip before you spoke, “Are you… are you okay?”

He paused from grabbing his backpack, his eyes shaking. You saw the mental battle he was going through, the way he swallowed, or how his hands began to fiddle.

You knew better than to meddle into things that did not concern you. Mentally you slapped yourself, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t-“

His hand went up to stop you, “No! No it’s okay. Thank you.”

Your eyes met his again, and for some reason your heart broke at the sight of him. His eyes were blood shot, his nose red by the constant rubbing. You felt the need to hug him, to give him your comfort bunny that helped you when you felt sad.

“Do you.. do you know what helps me?”

He sniffed, the sleeve of his sweater wet yet he cleaned his runny nose. Timidly, he shook his head so slightly you almost missed it.

“Henry. My plush bunny. My mom gave me him when I broke my arm from doing cart wheels. I cried a lot but when I held him. I felt better.”

The stranger smiled with secrets you wanted to know. “That’s nice.”

You nodded with enthusiasm, you saw the way the sadness began to leave his face. So you took steps closer to him, extending your hand out with a smile on your face. You had succeeded in making his smile look more alive.

“I’m y/n! What’s your name?”

He was taller than you, his hair was nicely combed to the side with slight curls at the tips. His eyes were very pretty and you knew then, it looked better when it was filled with happiness. His hand met yours in an warm embrace, your palm smaller and warmer than his cold, bigger hand.

“Oliver. But, you can call me Ollie,” he spoke with a smile, a genuine smile that made him blush with the longer he held your hand.

You continued to smile, matching his. With your hand in his, and the sun peeking out the clouds, you felt a friendship bloom.

At the age of 12, you befriended a broken boy, who often climbed into your window to lay in your bed and whisper why he was so afraid of being alone. You made a promise one night as both of you laid side to side, watching the glowing stars you had pasted on your ceiling.

“For as long as I am alive, I will always be your friend Ollie.”

Ollie held your hand that night and with a shaky breath he pressed a kiss on the front of your hand. “Do you promise?”

You faced him, flicking his forehead, you giggled when he whined softly, “I pinky and double promise. Crossing my heart if I die, I will never leave you Ollie. I promise.”

From then, the friendship grew. Every day was a new adventure, and having you by his side made Ollie happier. He did not think so much about the problems at home or how his parents constantly neglected him. He was just glad he had you, the most prettiest girl with a bright smile and words that filled his heart with warmth. Every day, was another reason piled in his list to why it was so easy to love you.

Ollie Hide, was in love with you. And he never knew just how much you loved him. The feelings of rejection and a possible outcome where it can ruin an already beautiful friendship was all they could think of. The feelings stayed bottled inside as though every touch and every bonding experience only intensified the feelings felt deep within.

One night, as you guys finally had a sleepover, now both in freshman year of high school — you broke a news that hurt him completely. Your father had been given the opportunity to work abroad, meaning you had to leave for an year or two. That meant, leaving Ollie who was suffering yet again in quiet.

As you broke the news to him, you watched as he began to tear up. He was never afraid to cry in front of you, and you never belittled him, he was important and he made you feel comfort more than anything in the world.

“Whe-When?” he whispered, his heart felt as it stopped beating. He wished then, that when they had done surgery on his heart they made the option of feeling anything go away. His heart began to throb in such an agonizing way, he began to breathe heavily.

You wrapped your arms around him, never letting him go. That night as you cried into each others arms, you made another promise. One that was going to haunt you forever.

“Hey doofus,” you said sadly. Your heart breaking when he sniffled yet he hummed, acknowledging you. “Promise you will never forget me.”

Ollie pulled away, his tears running his pale cheeks, “How can I?”

You placed a hand on his cheek. Perhaps both of you were too young to understand how the universe worked but you knew your heart best, and down beneath all the doubt, you knew that it will always belong to Ollie.

Ollie leaned towards your palm, his eyes watching you. At 14, both of you felt the first heartbreak. And two days later, as he watched your parents drive you away from him, he cried like never before. The one thing that held him strong, and stopped all the thoughts in his head that called him useless, unwanted, a disgrace.

Ollie Hide, began to change. He lied in every text message he sent you, every video he sent you, he lied. He told you how sophomore year was amazing, and how many friends he had. He never once told you how they mocked him, the loner boy. The daddy’s boy from a weird dad.

He never once told you how he cried every night, and when he ended up in the hospital again due to stress. Rash, who noticed the symptoms, begged his father to check him in with a therapist. Ollie was silently begging to be seen again. His light was gone, you weren’t there to hold him, to distract him with your non stop rambles how the stars had a story.

You never doubted him. You never asked questions because you trusted him. He would never lie. However, Ollie from the good of his heart did not want to burden you. So he continued to lie, even when social media came for him and made him into a joke, he filmed videos of himself with a smile on his face.

You never doubted anything. But, Ollie… was not himself anymore. The longer the days went, the more his mental health declined. Rosa was gone, and it was as if every important person kept leaving him. His father deep lost in his work to avoid the issues at home never questioned him.

On the summer before Junior year, you had come back. You ran to his house and what you saw made you stop dead in your tracks. Ollie had grown out his hair, and what was his neutral, warm colored clothes, was now all in dark. His eyes had lost the shine, the spark that you had fallen for. In his eyes, he was dead, the eyebags were visible.

“Ollie?” you whispered, unsure.

He turned around slowly, refusing to believe you were there. There you stood, in your hands held a gift for him and you were beautiful. His eyes scanned you, his heart beating fast.

“Y/n?” Ollie questioned, his steps stumbling towards you before he ran towards you where he wrapped you into his arms. You began to sob as you tighten your hands around him.

“I’ve missed you.”

You laughed as tears rolled down your cheeks, “I have missed you doofus!”

“Yo! Ollie! Come on.”

You raised your head from his chest, noticing a boy standing a couple feet away. This boy gave your heart a tug, like a piercing sharp pain gutted you. He raised all the flags in your head.

Ollie swallowed, letting you go, he slightly smiled. You knew better, this smile was fake.

“I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you later?” Ollie asked, he was walking backwards, his eyes avoided yours now. You began to question his behavior, his appearance, where was the Ollie from a year and a half go?

You only nodded, your throat constricting. He left, his steps stomping on your confused heart. Something was wrong and you did not know what it was. Yet, you knew if there was something, Ollie would tell you. He never lied to you.

The summer ended, and you hardly saw him. There was always a different excuse, but you knew. Rob was always in the picture, and whatever he did, murdered the kind, pure heart your bestfriend carried.

“I don’t know why you can’t see it Ollie!” you screamed at him one afternoon after school. You only watched Ollie as he bit into his nail, his hand rubbing his neck in anxiety.

“See what? I don’t understand…��� he spoke softly, igniting the fire you held inside. You were angry over the fact your bestfriend was changing and he himself could not see it.

You sighed annoyed, and you began to laugh in disbelief, “How?! How can you not see what’s going on?! You haven’t spoken to me all summer! You barely even acknowledge me!”

Ollie bit the inner skin of his cheek, his heart breaking. He couldn’t harm you, he couldn’t make you a target. He did not want the bullying to get to you just because you were his friend. You did not deserve that. You deserved more. You were more important than his needs. He needed you. He needed to tell you, to yell how much he loved you. How every letter, every photo you guys together he kept in a box where he could go through every night before bed and wonder what could be.

He did what he knew best, avoided the situation. “You know nothing Y/n. Please go home.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, disappointed, hurt and sadness swallowing your heart, you stepped away from him.

“You promised Ollie,” you reminded him. A tear finally slipping out your socket.

He looked down, he bounced on his feet, the anxiety eating him. He never once made eye contact, knowing that if he did, he would never let go.

“I’m keeping a promise,” he muttered, “So please, leave me alone.”

He turned and walked inside, leaving you outside with your second heartbreak and occuring non stop questions. Inside, Ollie slid down towards the floor, he began to sob. He was going to protect you with all he could. That was the promise he made to himself.

You never found out about the bullying Ollie suffered, and it was a shock. But, it also didn’t help that you avoided the shadowed boy. You stuck to yourself, ears plugged in as music blasted through them.

On a cloudy day, you went to your class. Natalia, who was a friend you met through Ollie two years ago, laughed about something funny she saw on a tv show. You feigned a laugh, your eyes scanning for a certain boy. Enough was enough.

You were going to snap some sense into Ollie, whether he liked it or not, but you were not going to lose him. As you settled in class, you forgot about Ollie, immersed into the debate your classmates were going through.

You pulled out your phone and sneakily, sent a message to the one that held your heart.

I am not letting go Ollie. Meet me after school by the treehouse.

As you and Ollie built your friendship, you built new places to hang out, and that included an abandoned tree house you found one day as you walked through the woods. Ollie, being the kindest boy offered to check it out first. Since then, the treehouse was your secret hide out.

You never received a response. You knew he had gotten it though and so you hoped, this was going to change his way of acting. Class was peaceful, of course not without Jack making loud comments about the lesson that had your teacher rolling her eyes every two seconds.

As you giggled over the comment your teacher said you heard a loud bang. Loud bangings. You jumped, your classmates became silent then. You couldn’t hear anything then. Until, yelling and scared chatters hit your ears. Something was happening.

Your teacher smiled as she kept the peace, “Alright guys, it’s probably nothing, stay here. Let me check it out.”

A ping had arrived to your phone then and as you pulled your phone to check the notification, you heard the sounds of glass shattering. You turned to look at Natalia who held the same expression you held — fear. This was a shooting.

Your teacher acted fast, she moved in a way you never seen her act before. She commanded the class to move underneath the desks, away from the windows that overlooked into the classroom. She shut the windows closed and had every single one of you quiet down.

You held onto Natalia’s hand, the fear reaching your ears as you began to hear the thumps of your heart. What felt like an eternity, you begged to be given a chance to see your family again, you did not want to die and not be given a opportunity to declare how much you loved Ollie Hide. You needed to tell him.

“We can run outside!” Jack whispered, panicked that no one was coming for them. Your teacher leaned against the door, watching over you all, her eyes trembling yet she never faltered.

“You stay there Jack! All of you!”

Jack began to mutter in fear, another round of bullets was heard. You began to go into a state of panic, your brain was beginning to go into a daze. Natalia hugged you, as she whispered something you did not understand.

All you could think of was Ollie. Was he okay? Did he make it outside? Did he survive? Is he hiding? As your brain wondered. Jack and your classmates ran outside, all of them swallowed by the fear of dying if they stayed in the classroom. Your teacher shouted, her voice was ignored.

“Stay here girls, please don’t leave until someone comes to get you. Promise me?”

“Don’t go!” Natalia shouted, “You can be killed!”

Your teacher who you admired, and you found to have been the kindest to help you out when you needed it, smiled. A tear slipped her eye, “I have to try and save as much as I can — stay here okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

It was as if, promises were meant to break.

As you and Natalia hid underneath the piles of chairs and desks, you heard screams closer than usual and multiple shots. You knew better than to be hopeful. Your classmates, ones you were joking with earlier that day, some of them were never going to graduate high school. They will never be parents, or have a dream come true, they will never ever know the pain of loss, or the feeling of loving someone so hard they forget the world spins. They will never have a chance to live.

You released a shaky breath as you held onto your friend. Your brain going over a prayer. If you make it out alive you were going to punch Ollie in the face and kiss him. You will make every moment worth it.

As you say there, you heard the door open. You closed your eyes, leaning your head towards Natalia. If you were going to die, you will die recalling a memory you treasured the most.

“Ollie?” you whispered one night, your voice quiet as both of you hid under the house you built out of blankets. At a distance you heard David arguing with Rosa again.

Ollie swallowed, his breath coming out in shaky wisps.

“Yeah?”

“When we’re older, promise we will still be friends?”

Ollie smiled into the shadows of the dark, he pulled you close, his skinny hand ruffling your hair as he released a sad chuckle, “You will never get rid of me.”

When you heard nothing but the gasp of your friend, you opened your eyes. You recalled that promise, your heart breaking in tiny pieces as you faced the barrel of the gun. Your eyes met with a certain pair that never failed to make you feel flutters in your stomach.

As Ollie, your best friend, your first love, held the gun with tears in his eyes, you released the first sound since the first gun shot. A loud sob.

Ollie looked at you and then at Natalia. You were sobbing now, your hands covering your mouth as you took him in. Your funny, bright bestfriend who joked about the smallest things, and looked after everyone than himself.

The gun didn’t fit him, he wasn’t the shooter. You refused to believe that. Ollie squeezed his eyes and when he reopened them, he looked different. You did not know who he was.

“Clear?!” Rob screamed from across the hall. Ollie said nothing before he shouted back.

“Clear!”

You scrambled to reach him, Natalia held you back. Ollie looked back at you, his eyes dark, lost. He was warning you to stay back. You choked on a sob again as you watched him go, his white sneakers filled with blood. You catched a glimpse at Rob, covered in blood, who said something and left to go the opposite direction.

You refused Natalia’s hold, “I have to get him! It can’t be him Nat…”

“You’re gonna be killed if you go y/n! You can’t go.”

You cried, “I have to try, that’s my bestfriend Nat… I can’t loose him.”

Your feet moved on its own as you ran down the hall towards the staircase, your mind blocking the scattered bodies of your classmates, you refused to believe it was real. It was a dream, you kept repeating.

Your feet hurt as you ran, but you needed to save him. You needed to get to Ollie. As soon as your feet crossed the door to the staircase you heard sobbing, mutters that were in gibberish. You had found him.

“Ollie…” you whispered.

Ollie gasped as he stood up. He began to shake his head, his muttering becoming more unstable, you could not understand him. You stepped closer as he put out a hand, his other hand loosely held onto the shotgun.

“Please… Please save me.”

You cried as you stepped closer, another step closer to reaching him.

“Take it Y/n… please. I can’t…. I don’t… I’m scared. I can’t die…”

Ollie finally looked at you, his eyes filled to the brim with tears, your heart broke once again. Your bestfriend, your first love, lost in his pain.

“Give me the gun Ollie…”

As he was handing you the gun, you heard the rushed steps of feet running up the stairs. The fear you held began to boil again. Finding yourself locking eyes with Rob, who held nothing but anger in his eyes, you didn’t realize the panic Ollie’s eyes went through.

Rob wasted no time but to shoot, and you were too late to run behind the door. The bullet shot through your lower stomach. At first you felt as you fell into a large comforter, and then you saw a flash of white. What you felt next was something that left you wheezing in non stop pain, the bullet has implanted itself in you. Your life was slipping and you just felt regret.

You recalled every promise you made with Ollie. The moments you had with your parents, and your friends. The laughter you shared with them, the cries you gave even if it was over a silly thing. All these memories and emotions flew through, and as you laid on the floor, wheezing through the pain, your heart slowing down one beat at a time. Your hand reached over to Ollie’s. You couldn’t find him, just how you couldn’t find the pain he was going through.

Ollie fought with Rob, and he almost won, if it wasn’t for the rail that threw him over the staircase. He just had one thought, what could have been if only he spoke with honesty of what he was feeling.

As both of you laid in different parts, the life slipping away from your fingers. Your heart’s beated slowly together, as if it was reuniting one last time. And for a moment it did, because the moment you allowed the white cloud wrap around you, Ollie smiled as he felt the warmth of your laugh wrap around him.

The two teenagers were rushed to the hospital, Natalia cried as she ran with you both. She was not going to reveal what had happened. She couldn’t, she knew and believed Ollie was not evil but she also couldn’t hurt you.

As nurses and doctors rushed to work in bringing your hearts back to life, the teenagers that laid in different rooms felt the soul bond loosened. The nurses spoke in sadness how the hands laid loosely over the bed, as if they searched for each other.

As Rash, the doctor that bonded with Ollie more than anyone, worked on a CPR on Ollie, he watched with tears in his eyes how neither of you responded. The dead line on the screen mocking him. And finally, after minutes, the line curved slightly.

The doctors that worked with you, all screamed in relief as you also responded back to life. Rash knew, just as with how Ollie talked of you, both of you were soulmates. He knew that nothing, not even death was going to rip both of you apart.

You had gained another chance at life, and you knew you were going to make every second of it count.

Natalia who watched as one came to live, then the other, sobbed loudly. Her mother wrapped her into her arms. Natalia had decided then, she was never going to reveal Ollie as the one shooter and as another classmate that survived was alive and responding, he recalled of the horrors that happened.

He spoke of the shooters, how he saw one shoot through his friends with no remorse screaming how they deserved it, and the other, the quiet boy who shoved the extra bullets into his pockets and shot through the walls instead. His eyes blinking away the tears that fell.

As the sun peeked through the windows, a chance to recover the lost time. To fix what was broken, was edging you awake. You woke up groggy, moaning that the sun was too bright. As you rolled over you found the mop of curly hair by your side.

You got up confused, till you realized it was a dream you had. You believed in the signs, warnings, how the universe will warn you of these butterfly effects. Since you had come back to town, you noticed the changes that your best friend has been going through.

You knew then, what could happen, whether it’s death or not, be prevented. As you reached over and laid a hand on the pale cheek of your bestfriend who softly snored away, you made a new promise.

“I will guard you with my life, and I promise to show you life is worth living.”

ollie nation tag list: @hxtd @mckennah123 @cieraerickson8 @oroborosfeast

natties angels permanent list: @yohanseyebrowmole @mthrgs29

[ilovescarymen]

talk to me: Spencer Reid

You’d never been one for vulnerability. It probably had something to do with how you grew up, an emotionally unavailable mother and a mentally absent father- you were always berated when you cried or showed you were upset so as you got older , you stopped.

You had a boyfriend who made you think you could be soft and vulnerable infront of him but, he ended up using it against you in an argument, after that you swore to never be vulnerable again.

You became a blank canvas that was impossible to read, a smile always plastered on your face, a fake bubbly personality to cover the pain beneath the surface. You’d only cry in the comfort of a bathroom or your home and then smile around others. It always worked. No one ever questioned it, untill now.

Your boyfriend, Spencer Reid is a profiler for the fbi’s behavioral analysis unit. He study’s human behavior for a living, which means he sees right through your little facade.

He never addressed it because he thought that maybe vulnerability would come with time. Maybe you’d stop crying in the bathroom or the shower and instead cry in his arms.

But when he arrives home from a case and you’re not at the door , bouncing around and ecstatic to see him he knows something’s up, he peeks around the corner to your bedroom and sees his sweet girl, crying and hiccuping.

You notice him and quickly wipe your tears , perking up, your stand up off the bed and run to your boyfriend’s arms.

“Hi Spence! Sorry I’m running a bit late on dinner! I’ll go get it started!” You quickly spew out, as you make an attempt to walk away your pulled back by your boyfriend, he gently places his hands on the side of your face and scans your face, before making eye contact with you.

“Honey, slow down, what’s wrong?” He asks genuine concern in his voice

“Nothing! Why would something be wrong Spence?” You put a smile on your face and look up at your boyfriend, his eyebrows are furrowed together and a frown is all over his face.

“Sweetheart, you do know that I study human behavior every day right? I know you’re lying to me, please just talk to me baby. I love you and I care and I want you to feel better”

You shake your head “nothings wrong I’m okay” you release yourself from his grasp and slip past him to the kitchen, you open the fridge and scan it “I have pasta sauce! I can make you-“ you let out a squeak as Spencer picks you up and carries you over to the couch, he sits you in his lap facing him and holds you in place.

“I have let you do this long enough. I let you isolate yourself and pretend you’re okay when you’re not but no more. I want you to come to me, I want to cheer you up honey, I will never judge you, you know that right? I’ll never make you feel stupid for feeling your feelings. I love you I want you to talk to me”

Your lip starts to tremble and tears start falling down your face “she’s- she’s so mean Spence” you hiccup, he pulls you to his chest and hugs you, his arms wrapping around your waist

“Who is? Honey who’s mean?”

“My mother” you sob out, Spencer doesn’t know the horrors of your childhood. All he knows is you grew up in Texas and you left because you wanted a change in scenery, what he doesn’t know is that you actually left for your own safety. Your mother had lost it and you left to avoid another one of her beatings.

“Oh honey” he coos, he kisses the side of your head and rubs your back gently, whispering little “it’s okay”’s and “let it all out”’s in your ear. When your crying calmed down you sat up, looking Spencer in his eyes.

“M’ sorry, I know you got home from a case and this is probably the last thing you wanted to deal with” you breath out as you wipe your eyes

“Hey hey, Nuh uh. Don’t ever apologize for feeling your feelings, I’m more than happy to do this. To be here for you always. I love you, sweetheart “

“I love you too Spence “

“Now, tell me why we hate your mother”

And you did, you told him everything, and when tears fell Spence gently caressed your back and listened intently, showing you that it was okay.

This is what love is.

[shiongenkai]

TD Captain Swap

I have crafted a captain swap so hilarious to me I need to talk about it so here's the stupidest thing ever.

Frostheim: Yuri

Vagastrom: Jin

Jabberwock: Ed

Sinostra: Alan

Hotarubi: Taiga

Obscuary: Haru

Mortkranken: Subaru

My insane ramblings below the cut.

My basic premise is that one day Darkwick is like. In order to promote harmony across the houses and establish rapport with one another we will be assigning captains to a new house for the next month. And then they do that. And it all falls apart immediately.

Frostheim

Yuri voice ill never go back. And then Darkwick is like okay you're too biased against them go make up!! And Yuri seethes so hard something in his body pops.

First off, nooo way he gets along with Tohma or feels comfortable in Jin's room. Secondly, Kaito? Kaito. Literally no way that guy won't scream every other day. It's not even that he dislikes Yuri, it's just that the rumors are too Big for Kaito not to freak out every single time. And Luca of course will not help this concern ever, and will ask for Yuri's history and why he seems so familiar with Frostheim stuff, and Yuri will have to decide how far morals can carry him.

Somehow someway everyone in this scenario comes out appreciating Jin just like. A smidge more. His Frostheim runs as smoothly as Yuri's Frostheim but there's something slightly more dignified about it.

Vagastrom

I really just need a Jin Leo bitch off. Leo trying to get info from Jin except he soundproofed his room again, Jin not giving a shit about what the two of them do which makes it considerably less fun despite neither Sho nor Leo being willing to admit that, Jin using his stigma when MC is around to force Leo to do things. It's technically functional, like Vagastrom doesn't fall to chaos after Jin asserts his dominance on day one, but it's like. Everyone misses Alan so bad. So bad. Sho and Leo would never admit it to his face but they prefer their captain over Jin even if most things haven't really changed.

Also I think the only reasons Jin would leave his room is if Leo was bothering him too much and even then it would take a bit. I think Sho's life wouldn't be changed a whole lot but he'd miss the sparring and also find Jin's philosophy like.... not strange or bad but too different???? Like yeah it's annoying to spar every day but it's also fun. That's his enrichment...

Jabberwock

This is what inspired it all. The exact sequence of events was that I thought to myself, wouldn't it be funny if Ed was in Jabberwock since it's usually pretty sunny and it requires a lot of work? And then I thought, and also Towa is there. And then I remembered Towa hates Ed and I laughed so hard I cried trying to envision Ed announcing that he's replacing Haru for the time being and Towa trying to electrocute him.

Ren and Ed would also be funny because as long as Ed leaves Ren alone I'm sure he'd be fine. And doubly so if he draws Towa's attention away from him. But I can't tell if after that it'd be funnier if Ren gets annoyed because Ed is actually high maintenance and if Towa isn't doing it then Ren definitely has to. And he'd hate that. OR Ed has seen all his movies and knows all his games and keeps trying to talk to him about it but in a way that pisses him off about it and he's like mad about that. Either way I can't imagine anyone in this house is happy about this arrangement and it's killing me to imagine.

Sinostra

You'll have to stick with me for this one because it's a very specific dynamic in my mind that I'm not very good at articulating but basically. Romeo is at first glad Taiga can't mess things up anymore (even though deep down he misses him) and glad Alan is capable of scaring people straight just by Looking but then Alan is like hey this operation isn't very honorable. It's a low blow to threaten and intimidate and cheat. And then they butt heads about it endlessly.

Which is why Ritsu has to come in and be the equalizer but Alan can't take him seriously because he's like you're way too skinny you have no muscle what is your diet what's your trianing like. Spar with me. And Ritsu, embarrassed and offended, is like ILL HAVE YOU KNOW IM WORKING ON IT. And Alan genuinely offers to help but Ritsu is too used to Taiga and lowkey assumes Alan is making fun of him. And Alan is sincere. So he keeps going.

Hotarubi

PLEASEEEE PICTURE IT. THINK ABOUT IT. Think about the Haku Taiga prologue dynamic and make that daily life. Now add in the fact that Hotarubi is meant to be traditional Japanese themes with grace and tranquility and then imagine Taiga is there and try to tell me that's not the funniest shit ever.

And then add in Zenji. We already know Taiga can see or sense more than others so I would bet everything he could probably sense Zenji in some way, which he honestly probably wouldn't care about but I think he'd care a lot about the doll or the biwa. Basically I think he'd try to eat it. I think he'd try to eat something and it would be chaos and hilarious and please just imagine the three of them together. Please. Please. Please.

Obscuary

House Simulator. This is the only truly fully functioning house with no problems outside of Lyca complaining about noise and annoyances and so on so forth. And that is because Rui and Haru are so used to doing like 100% of the work all the time that they both try to do it and end up finishing all the work in half the time since they've split it and now they randomly have free time??? And it's so strange??

Haru helps with breakfast and cleaning and taking care of the animals and chores and so forth and Rui helps with Peekaboo and relieving Haru's exhaustion and it's basically such a functioning pair that it's almost scary. Like Lyca is scared. But also Haru smells bad and is too high energy and LOUDDD so he's in his rebellious teenage phase atm.

Only downside is that Haru has too much bar access and has to be cut off but it's a small price to pay for a house that isn't up in flames by day one. Unfortunately it can't last bc Haru would miss his animals and Rui would feel too worried about hurting Haru so when they swap back both have made peace with it. And Lyca will still kick rocks they couldn't have Subaru.

Mortkranken

I think Subaru would become a legend very quickly but not because he's this secret medical genius but because he seems to have this uncanny ability to guess things. And the secret is that he is using his stigma fully on accident and seeing what they were up to and then Jiro is figuring it out from there. And he keeps trying to give Jiro credit but nobody will listen.

He's also squeamish. Like he can't handle blood so when Jiro is like 'Move that to the other table please' Subaru is happy to and moves this weird lump under a sheet and the sheet falls off and its a severed arm and Subaru faints. and Jiro laughs for a second before putting Subaru on the table and making sure he's like actually okay. And they are both very patient with one another and very cordial. But it's so so awkward. And Subaru honest to god does not know how to take care of Jiro and is constantly having to ask Yuri how to do things except Yuri is always occupied by Frostheim so Subaru has to follow Jiro's instructions and they are both praying Every Day.

And that's also why they're both happy when its over. Not because it was bad or they dislike each other but bc they're both glad Yuri will come back and it won't be Does Jiro Die Today Roulette. and then Subaru goes to Haku and grabs his shoulders and is likep lease do not start dying ill cry right in front of you forever. and Haku just nods slowly.

[hey-august]

Had a fun little slutty/wholesome thought regarding any of the Cross Guild bois with an S/O who has an entire perfectly done shower routine yet they only bother to put their clothes on at the end of the routine. And one day they do it either after showing with any of them or are just getting out of the shower when they return from their duties but their S/O isn’t bothered cause their comfortable with them.

can imagine all of them at some point being really proud/happy their S/O trusts them to be in such a vulnerable state….but the other half is just wishing to take them over the counter of the bathroom sink when their S/O is applying lotion to their body.

Oooooh I love this. Of course the Cross Guild trio see and respect the vulnerability that comes with bathing (and nudity).

To be defenseless (and in Crocodile's case, completely powerless) is dangerous for powerful pirates like them. Throughout their lives, they've developed their own routines full of precautions to maintain safety and control.

But you. Your routine is not for the same reasons. You see bathing as time for indulging yourself. It's a form of love.

And seeing how you care for yourself, so full of confidence and comfort - they love it. They adore it.

Even surrounded by the danger they pose, you are not concerned in the slightest, and that is not lost on the Cross Guild.

Whether it's trust in them or a trait that's all your own, it stirs a fierce pride in their bellies. And they want to show you just how much it means to them.

How much you mean to them.

[ghostbustting]

Ok so,firstly hiii! I love your writing style sm!

Would you ever consider doing a Cliff or Jason one shot where the reader is super self conscious about her being “plus-size” and “not being a typical rockstar girlfriend” and them comforting her and it leads to some really sweet love making 😭

Cliff is my number one man and I hardly see any fics for him fr

CLIFFCLIFFCLIFF !! (yes i'm back. yes i'm disappearing again.)

♯ ; 𝑴𝒀 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 ༘⋆

Cliff Burton x Plus size!Reader

Contains Smut.

With my own fingers fiddling with the hem of my uncomfortably fitting dress, my eyes wander around the diner booth we were all sitting at. By we, I was referring to me, my boyfriend Cliff, his three bandmates, and their awfully drop dead gorgeous girlfriends.

It was a relaxing Saturday night, Cliff had brought me with him to go have dinner with his bandmates and their girlfriends at some local diner.

However, the rest of the dinner night, I felt like I do not belong here, like I could never fit in well between these rockstars and their girlfriends. No matter how reassuring and comforting having Cliff's presence close next to me, it didn't make me oblivious to how much of a contrast the difference between me and his bandmates' girlfriends is.

They were perfectly good looking to say the least. Thin figures, curves accentuated perfectly in their tight dress they probably didn't have to overthink much about, no thunder thighs filling up their seats, smiles so wide without their cheeks looking like they're swollen.

On the other hand, I stood out... not in a very pleasing way. It's more like as if I was a sore thumb. My eyes could never stand the numbers that showed up on the weight scales whenever I stood on it. The beautiful small dresses I saw down the streets would never fit the shape of my body.

Cliff made it his task to make me feel loved, and I knew he really do love me. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm not what people expected, doesn't change the fact that I'm not the ideal rockstar's girlfriend.

So here I sat next to him, head hung low, the food I had ordered barely touched, my ears not even picking up on the conversation around me, eyes focused on getting the end of my dress to cover more of my insecure legs.

Even with my mind overwhelmed with that irritating sense of insecurity, the concerned gaze on me that came from Cliff’s eyes were something that I could never ignored, something so familiar that it would always hit me right away whenever I receive it, something I could recognize easily every single time.

It didn’t took long before I feel his warm hands take ahold of my cold ones, the pads of his thumbs running over my knuckles as I hear his beautiful voice whisper softly and gently into my ear, “Are you alright..? You feel sick..?” He asked, the worry accentuated enough in his voice.

However, I try to cover it up, “I’m alright..” I whisper back while shaking my head with a soft smile— a smile so forced and fake that obviously someone that knew me so well and so detailed like Clifford Lee Burton wouldn’t be fooled by.

”You’re not,” Cliff spoke, with an attempt to drown all the insecurity in me with his soft gaze, “I know my happy girlfriend when I see her and this is not her.”

A sigh leave my lips and my eyes look up at him, meeting his own in an instant. He could see the weak and soft gaze of my eyes, the way my eyebrows are slightly furrowed as if I was thinking about something. He can read me like a damn opened book and I can't decide whether I hate or love him for it.

My thoughts drifted away when I hear the man spoke again, this time towards his friends, patting Kirk's back, who was sitting on the chair beside him. "Sorry, it's getting late. We have.. other plans." He say.

That was in fact, not true. I was not aware of any other plans we have scheduled after this dinner.

Hence, a look of genuine confusion was etched onto my face as he took ahold of my hand and pull me up from my seat, giving me no time to say goodbyes or grab one last french fries when he lead me out of the diner with no words of explanation.

We found ourselves driving back to his place in a weird yet comforting silence. One of Cliff’s hands was holding onto mine while the other was fixated on the steering wheel. I can feel his thumb running over my knuckles every now and then, a gesture of comfort I’m used to receive from him.

My eyes drift from our hands to the window, watching as cars drove pass us, watching the motorcycles, watching as teenagers party, craving the body those gorgeous girls possess. My eyes would still run over their perfect figure if it wasn't for Cliff's voice that snapped me out of my trance.

"What's with you tonight?"

He asked. Usually, words like that would be taken as somewhat a complain. But with Cliff, it was clear by his voice that he was asking me out of concern. He wasn't wrong about knowing a happy me and a not happy me, it was quite easy. I would've been smiling to my eyes when I'm happy, words spilling out of my lips endlessly, unlike the state I was in earlier.

A sigh left my lips as I slowly turn my attention back to Cliff, the lights of Los Angeles and the red traffic light combined with the beautiful moonlight illuminates his face, his eyes shining more than how they already were.

"I.."

"Honest. Please. I hate not seeing your smile."

A squeeze of his hand was delivered to mine, making my heart flutter just the slightest bit. There was no way in hell I'm able to decline his plead for honesty.

Slowly, I begin to speak again, a hint of uncertainty was able to be heard in the words that left my lips in a quiet question. "..Do you ever regret dating me?" I ask, my voice soft, eyes avoiding his own as I feel that same exact concerned gaze over my face the moment his head instantly snapped my way.

I could feel his gaze on me for a few minutes until the light turned green, taking his focus again as he continue driving before asking me, "Wha— why would I regret dating you? Don't be silly." He chuckled softly, taking my hand up to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

The gesture was sweet, bringing a soft smile on my face. However, It didn't take too long before my smile faded away yet again slowly as my previous thoughts of insecurity builds back up in my mind. It was like a parasite, unable to be avoided.

”It’s just..” I let out a sigh, “James, Kirk, Lars...— They have these drop dead gorgeous girls as their girls. They’re beautiful, they’re in good shape, they’re— they’re the perfect rockstar girlfriend.”

Only when I feel the car stop and park did I realize we have arrived in front of his house, away from the chaos of the traffic, the door that leads to the inside of the house seems so inviting as my body yearns to just lay on his bed. Meanwhile, the silence between us felt somehow loud, if that even makes sense. And again, his eyes gazes over me.

Cliff let out a small chuckle, “So that’s the problem? You think I’d regret dating you because of this?—” He reach out and pinch the chubby cheek of mine, pulling on it slightly. My eyes slowly gaze up into his own, revealing my glassy eyes to him. A sigh leave his lips as he cup one of my cheeks. “You think I care about whether you’re as skinny as a branch or as fluffy as a pillow?”

I let out a small strangled chuckle at his words, trying to turn my head away, to which he prevent by cupping both of my cheeks now. “I don’t want a rockstar girlfriend. I just want my girlfriend. I just want you. I want you for your heart, for your smile, for your love.” Cliff spoke so sincerely it was impossible to not believe him, especially with how deep his eyes was gazing into mine.

The smile he made at my speechless state melts my heart, listening as he say, “Come on.” Shortly after, I watch him exit the car and jog around the front only to open the door on my side of the car, the sweet smile making a stay on his face as he reach for my hand and help me out, his other hand shutting the door behind me the moment my shoes lands on the ground.

Each and every move of his only made me love him even more.

My body stayed close to him, almost as if we were attatched like magnets, all the way as he leads me into his house and into his bedroom, his hand holding mine so firmly yet gently at the same time, as if he was afraid I’d slip away, as if he was afraid the insecurity will consume me and fade me away from his life. I always loved the way he touched me, always able to make me feel loved, even the moment I lost hope in loving myself, he always made me love myself with his own love.

Slowly, I sit down on the soft matress of his bed, a spot we often find ourself laying in after a tiring day, just wrapping each other in the other’s arms, where our problems never exist, only our bloomin love.

I feel the mattres beside me sink due to Cliff’s weight as he join me, sitting on the bed as well with his hand in mine still, the pad of his thumb running over my knuckles again and again softly, a motion I’ve found rather comforting. I can feel his lips pressing soft kisses all over my cheek, yet my head was hung low, eyes on my lap.

Yet the moment he notices, he held my chin in his free hand, slowly tilting my head towards him. “Look at me.” He smile softly, making me look at him. “I want you to let your mind rest, okay? Let go of your thoughts..” His voice was soft, I couldn’t help but give in and follow the instruction he gave me, letting my thoughts drift away, letting my focus to be for him and him only.

”My girl..” He breathed out, slowly leaning in till our lips eventually meet in a soft and gentle kiss, his palm coming to rest against my cheek, the other that was previousky holding my hand slowly trails to hold my waist instead, gently pushing me down to lay on my back, my head landing smoothly on his pillow.

I sigh against his lips and watch as he lay himself down next to me, mumbling, "Cliff.." The way his hands touch me all over made me felt important, as if I was the center of the earth. To him, I probably was. After all, he never failed to make me feel that way.

Within seconds, I feel my shirt slowly being slipped over my head, my hands coming to cover my body. Despite how many times we've done this, being bare and showing the insecurity I own beneath the fabric always rewinds. Yet, Cliff only chuckled and moved my hands away, his lips pressing a short peck on my stomach.

"Beautiful." In an instant, the tenses in my body relaxes as I hear his voice, a comforting and loving lullaby.

I feel his lips press and trail kisses all the way from my stomach down to the them of my panties, his fingers slowly hooking into the waistband and sliding it down, his eyes gazing up to inspect the way I was bitting my lip from his action alone.

The moment that panties of mine was discarded, Cliff's lips were quick to attach onto my cunt— desperate, yet gentle.

A moan manage to escape my lips, a soft call of his name, "Cliff.." His name seems to be the only thing available in my dictionary at the moment, finding it difficult to let out anything from the back of my throat other than a moan, curses, and his name.

Cliff's warm tongue slides in and out of me, the very tip of his nose nudging my clit every now and then as he eat me out, ignoring the way I was squirming above him, my hand trailing down to run through his long hair. "Fuck.." I whined, my hips bucking up to try and grind against his face.

His tongue was lapping up and down my folds like a dog, a hungry dog. He makes me feel wanted. And I can't help but want him as well.

Not long, he pull back from my pussy with his lips glistening with my slick, his fingers replacing what was once his tongue, two of them running up and down my folds before sliding through them, earning a gasp from me. I feel his lips against my thigh, yet I was too caught up on the feeling of his fingers.

"Can you feel it?"

My eyes struggles to meet his as I utter out a, "What— Feel what..?" Through my moans.

"Just how much I love you."

Right as the words leave his lips, I finshed right around his fingers, clenching the digits as I did so with a loud and uncontrollable moan, my back arching like a cat you'd see down the streets.

I hear a small chuckle and a gentle, "Good girl. My girl." Before I see him stand up, his hands going to his belt as he unbuckles it, swiftly throwing it away and slipping his jeans and boxers both at once, not even wasting his time for even just a second.

Seconds later, before I knew it, he was back on top of me, his body towering over mine as he lean down to press a kiss on my cheek, "My tonight, my tomorrow, my tomorrow night, my every night, and my every day are yours okay? I can't live through this without your sweet soul." He spoke with so much genuineness in his voice.

My thoughts evaporates into thin air as he slowly slides his cock through my folds, pulling out soft noises of pleasure from both of us as one of his hands came to rest on the pillow beside my head while the other holds my own hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before he starts thrusting in and out of me, very gently.

Unlike the rather passionate love making we have done before, he was being extremely gentle this time, passionate still— yet mostly gentle and full of care as his eyes never broke the contact they had with my own eyes, a window that connects our souls.

I feel the tip of his cock hitting every special spots in me without even having to do it hard and fast. He knew me. The real me that lay upon all these insecurity. He knew me all too well. Yet he didn't even have to try. It was like nature have his own way with connecting us.

"I love you too.." I blurted out, a soft moan pulled out of the back of my throat as I slowly close my eyes.

Yet I feel his lips again, this time on my closed eyelids. "Don't close your eyes. I want you to look into my eyes and look deeply. So deep to the point you can see how much love I have." He spoke. Within seconds, my eyes were opened again and stared into his eyes again.

And just as he says, there was a certain look he had on.

A look of love.

So sweet. So deep. So tender.

His hips continue to move against mine, soft grunts slipping through his lips as my walls hug his cock just right. "Fuck.. My girl.." After he mumble this, his arms slowly wrap around my torso, his bodg pressed flushed against mine while his thrusts now becomes more deep, still in the gentle pace he was in earlier.

"Cliff..." I breathed out, my own arms around his body. Each time his cock thrusts into me, a moan would be pulled out of me while a grunt would be pull out of his, both of us becoming closer each seconds we spend in this bed.

"Come with me, sweetheart?.."

"Only with you.. Only with you.."

Not long, I feel an all too familiar knot in my stomach as he continue to hit every weak spot of mine. The way his lips were attached onto my neck and sucking marks wasn't helping with the feeling either. He could be so soft, yet I'll still be the most pleased girl in the earth. His girl.

Before I knew it, my high came crashing down around his cock, letting out a loud moan as his own seeds fill me up, his voice mumbled against my neck as he stayed close to me after our finish. I breathe in and out, all the troubles I had stomped away by a single love making.

But I knew it wasn't the love making

It was him.

He was clinging onto me like a koala, his head in my neck and his arms wrapped around me still yet so tightly, hands stroking my body in an affectionate way. He loves me. It was becoming clearer and clearer each day I spend here with him. He wants me for me. I was too blind to see the way it's all too obvious from his care, from his words, from his eyes.

And I love him too.

My boy.

[mynameisjag]

From a fic I never finished, Bruce and Damian enjoy a day out. That's it, just them having a good day.

It wasn’t often that Bruce went out into Gotham as well, just Bruce…not Batman or Brucie Wayne.

Just Bruce.

Changing into simple clothing, letting his hair air dry and just heading out like that and the public didn’t recognize him.

No slicked back hair or suits of any kind.

Just a t-shirt, his favorite throw over cardigan and what Dick insisted was mom jeans, a five o’clock shadow, and he was ready to go.

Just a quick trip to the shopping center to pick up some office supplies for his home office, a few groceries for Alfred, some snacks for the Batcave, and he probably needed to check the family chat to see if anyone needed anything while he was out.

A quick glance at his messages as he began to head out, already on his way to the garage, Dick was trying his best to convince him to get…strawberry flavored Batty-O’s with crackling and popping sprinkles…sounds horrible and right up his eldest alley…also full of terrible sugars…

Alfred would hunt both of them down if he brought this home.

He’ll just order it and have it shipped to Dick’s apartment…

Jason wanted him to fuck off…Bruce sent off a xoxo and a request to come over for tea in response to that. He got a thumbs up and a middle finger.

Tim…is either half asleep and texting or is trying to send out a code for everyone to decipher…both was possible…adding melatonin to the list…

Cass was sending happy faces, so it’s seems she’s good at the moment, sending her a heart, ballet shoes and a crown. His dancing princess.

Duke sent a thumbs up and got one back in return.

Steph was just saying she’ll just take what she needs from his place whenever…time to restock the “hidden” care packages then.

And Damian…Damian was staring him down from the passenger seat of the car…

“Damian…is there something you need that you couldn’t put in chat?”

“I am coming with you.”

“…you hate the public…”

“I will overcome my distaste of others and escort you, Father, you shall not face the scrutiny of the common by yourself.”

Aww, he just wanted to spend time together and Bruce could never refuse the baby of the family, “Of course, I appreciate your concern.”

His darling just puffed up with a smug smile, proud that he managed to get his way without any argument, “I’m glad you are agreeable.”

Look, they are communicating!

Not well, but it was a step forward!

Besides Damian even took the effort to dress more ‘civilian’, the green sweater with a little tiny bird stitched in with the words ‘just a bobbin like a robin’ was definitely a gift from Dick.

Adjusting the seat belt and getting the car out of the garage, Bruce just hummed happily, letting the silence settle between them comfortably. Mentally going back over his list, glancing over to see his son playing on an old handheld game. Something that was more then likely stolen out of Tim’s room, but with the older boy making his own place in the city, it would be awhile before it would be noticed it was gone.

Almost all his children had moved out…he was happy they were moving on in their lives, looking more into their futures but his heart hurt because his babies weren’t actually babies any more. They would have argued that none of them were ever babies with him but he would just ignore that.

He hoped this doesn’t result in empty nest syndrome…

“Baba, can we stop by the game store, I want to see if I can find more interesting games.”

“We can, after we get everything on the list, can you check my phone and see if anyone has sent in anything they want to be picked up-what in Lady Gotham is this?”

Bruce blinked as traffic was stopped to let a…small parade of Batman floats pass by…

“There are copycats out on the street, how dare they parade around as us!”

“…I think parade is the word, look at the banners…”

Batman Day!

“So they are not copycats…but worshippers…”

Bruce tried not to laugh at the thought, "I think the word is…enthusiastics…”

They both watched as a man walked past wearing a banner that said, “Priest of The Bat”.

“…and we will be investigating that later, let’s see if we can park and look around.”

“Time for some detective work, Father?”

“Undercover detective work.”

Damian was eagerly typing away on the phone, “I shall keep the others off our trail so they won’t interrupt our investigation, also according to the online advertisement, the parade will end in the park where the “Batman Day festival” will begin. They will have bat themed mooncakes at certain booths.”

“Are the mooncakes important to the investigation?”

“One must keep all possibilities open, we must check each booth for clues.”

Bruce kept the smile that was threatening to grow held down, he was sure the boy wouldn’t appreciate being cooed over his want of treats being disguised as being extra thorough, more so that he didn’t want his siblings interrupting their day. He was going to have to order everything online and have it shipped to the manor then, mundane chores could wait.

His baby wanted mooncakes.

He will get mooncakes.

It didn’t take too long to park and follow the short parade to the fairgrounds, even with them stopping and staring at the lookalikes, a man giving them a balloon with the bat symbol and the words ‘I believe in Gotham’s local cryptids’, and someone clipping tiny bat wings to the back of their shirts at some point.

Soon the entrance was in view and by that time, Damian was now on Bruce’s shoulders, taking in the crowd, head turning back and forth at the bright lights, the performers in bat themed outfits, wide eyed as a child runs in front of then in a Robin costumes.

Bruce is humming thoughtfully to himself as he eyes a group in clown makeup done up in a Gothic theme, so far all they seem to be doing is some parlor tricks for the crowd around them. Some people even taking selfies, it was a rare sight for a Gothamite to get close to a clown without violence.

He was wondering if he should text the others, surely by now they would be aware of this festival happening, Barbara had to have known…

“Darling, do you want to text your siblings?”

“I can tell them to be on alert for any suspicious behaviors while we blend into the crowd…like the one over by the dart game.”

Bruce could only blink as his head was forcefully turned toward a booth with a bunch of balloons tied to a backboard, “Dart game?”

“Yes, obviously it’s a skill test but what kind? We must investigate.”

Hmm, a skill test that totally didn’t have to do with the giant plush animals as prizes.

“I think I remember Dick saying how these games were rigged,” he watches as a parent carries off their crying kid, wincing in sympathy as the cries get louder.

“No amount of trickery could possibly stop us!”

[prinzrupprecht]

A request please, please ask Apollo x reader, how Apollo reacts when he finds out that his partner is pregnant

Unexpected Turns of Events

Thanks for requesting! I have time on my hands to do a few requests.

Pairing: Apollo x fem!reader

Synopsis: You had no idea how’d he would react. You thought you were careful and even used protection. Yet, somehow here you are pregnant and alone. You were wondering if this was the last straw for him and if he’d leave you. Was this pretty for you? Could he handle the news?

TW: fluff and hurt comfort

WC: 1007

You were sitting alone in the infirmary room waiting for a diagnosis for your sickness as you were throwing up for the past 3 days. You were suspicious as to why and you didn’t tell your beloved how you were feeling sick either. You just had the urge to throw up at random times.

It was quiet as you kept your head in the palm of your hands. The door opened and you looked up to the doctor who smiled and didn’t seem too concerned. “Congratulations,” he said and you looked at him and it sunk into you.

“Oh no…” you muttered and a mixed feeling washed over you. Apollo never spoke to you about having kids or if he wanted any. This terrified you the most and you were careless when you two made love to one another. He took care of you and made sure you were treated right.

“Is something the matter?” The doctor tried to touch your shoulder but you jerked away and stood up.

“Everything is fine! It’s just… I have to go," you rushed out of the room panicking and scared. You wanted to go back to your room but you had no idea if he would be there. He gave up a lot for you. You wouldn’t even give him a chance unless he stopped his womanizing ways. Maybe this would make him lose all feelings for you? Your hands were shaking as your other fell on your stomach.

You wouldn’t ever abandon your child even if he wasn’t in the picture. You did everything you could for Apollo even when he told you that’s what maids are for and to not overwork yourself. The Olympus palace was big and you met everyone and they treated you as Apollo’s wife. His woman.

Even his sister Artemis approved of you because of your loyalty and love for her brother. You found your way to your shared room and walked inside. He wasn’t here but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t nearby. He rarely leaves the palace unless he was told too.

Were you going crazy? Maybe a little. You tried to hide your face in the palm of your hands as you sat on the bed facing away from the door. You wanted to be alone to figure out what you were going to do. Apollo should return soon but that doesn’t change the fact he may not want kids.

A few minutes had gone by as your heart was racing and questions flooding your head. Maybe you were overthinking it.

“You’re back?” A voice says from behind. You froze in place and barely even noticed he returned. You had gripped your knees. He couldn’t see your face but he knew right off the bat something was wrong.

“Ya, I had to leave early this morning to get a check-up from the doctor. I wasn’t… feeling well.” You left it vague. You noticed how his face went from his usual happy self to a more serious expression. He grimaced and placed a hand on your forehead.

“Are you okay? You’re not burning up,” you pulled away from embarrassment but he still was a few inches away from you.

“Uh no, it’s not that..” your hands were sweating. Apollo took note of how nervous you were. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes. And he didn't like how avoidant you were.

He didn’t care for whatever it was you were hiding. You were everything to him as he was yours. “What is it, my love?” He grabbed your face to force you to look at him. He could see how terrified you were and he was growing irritated as to why you weren’t telling him.

“I— It’s uh…” tears were forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Why are you crying? You know it’s an unsettling sight for me to see this side of you,” Apollo grabbed your hands but you pulled away. Truth was he was more scared of you leaving him than the other way around. Were you planning to leave him? The thought wouldn’t go away.

“I— I’m pre– pregnant.”

Silence suddenly covered the room. Neither of you two said anything for a good minute even when you were wiping the tears away from your eyes. Apollo pulled away and this is what you had expected. He didn’t want anything to do with you.

No. He pulled your entire body to sit in between his legs. He surprised you with his actions. “Now was that hard to say?” He playfully touched your hair and the side of your face. A grin was dancing at the corner of his lips. He didn’t mention any part of your pregnancy.

“You– you’re not mad?” Apollo’s arms were wrapped around you while his chin rested on your head. He didn’t speak for a few seconds as if he was thinking.

“No, why would I be? It was bound to happen at some point.” He didn’t care? Would he be a good father? Many questions were rushing through your mind. A sense of relief washed over you. You loosened up and felt comfortable being in his arms.

“There there, you know these things wouldn’t make me leave, right?” He chuckled while running his hand through your hair as you mumbled a quiet yes. It was natural for the man and woman to mate and have offsprings which was considered beautiful to Apollo. You were still tired and he wanted to spend the day with you. Maybe have the maids prepare you a nice bath and he’d join you.

Note: anyway, if I get any more requests they’ll be prolonged for a couple of days to cope with the new chapter leaks.

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 24th

I hadn't the heart to write last night; that terrible record of Jonathan's upset me so. Poor dear! How he must have suffered, whether it be true or only imagination. I wonder if there is any truth in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, and then write all those terrible things, or had he some cause for it all? I suppose I shall never know, for I dare not open the subject to him.... And yet that man we saw yesterday! He seemed quite certain of him.... Poor fellow! I suppose it was the funeral upset him and sent his mind back on some train of thought.... He believes it all himself. I remember how on our wedding-day he said: "Unless some solemn duty come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, mad or sane." There seems to be through it all some thread of continuity.... That fearful Count was coming to London.... If it should be, and he came to London, with his teeming millions.... There may be a solemn duty; and if it come we must not shrink from it.... I shall be prepared. I shall get my typewriter this very hour and begin transcribing. Then we shall be ready for other eyes if required. And if it be wanted; then, perhaps, if I am ready, poor Jonathan may not be upset, for I can speak for him and never let him be troubled or worried with it at all. If ever Jonathan quite gets over the nervousness he may want to tell me of it all, and I can ask him questions and find out things, and see how I may comfort him.

Can we talk about how cool Mina is for a second? Her first reaction upon finding out is disbelief, of course, but she turns around so quickly so she can A. support Jonathan and B. potentially save the world. She knows her skills are valuable and she immediately puts them to good use. It’s not hard to see why Jonathan fell in love with her!

It also means that everything we’ve been reading so far is courtesy of her work, by the way. Which immediately prompts two thoughts:

She apparently wasn’t jealous at all upon reading the Three Weed-Smoking Girlfriends bit Jonathan was so worried about, otherwise she would have edited it out;

She had to transcribe Lucy’s journal and her own letters… She had to add the “unopened by her” mention herself…

Everybody say thank you Mina!

And now for the bit where I genuinely shed a tear:

I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far friend as that I sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy Westenra's death. By the kindness of Lord Godalming, I am empowered to read her letters and papers, for I am deeply concerned about certain matters vitally important. In them I find some letters from you, which show how great friends you were and how you love her. Oh, Madam Mina, by that love, I implore you, help me. It is for others' good that I ask—to redress great wrong, and to lift much and terrible troubles—that may be more great than you can know. May it be that I see you? You can trust me. I am friend of Dr. John Seward and of Lord Godalming (that was Arthur of Miss Lucy). I must keep it private for the present from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once if you tell me I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your pardon, madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good you are and how your husband suffer; so I pray you, if it may be, enlighten him not, lest it may harm. Again your pardon, and forgive me.

I’ve said it before, but there are some similarities in the way Dracula and Van Helsing talk. Well, there are some in the way they write too!

You may remember this little bit from May 3rd:

"My Friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.

Your friend,

DRACULA.

The letter opened and closed on a fake declaration of friendship, foreshadowing Jonathan’s imprisonment.

Van Helsing does something very similar here, but A. with desperate apologies and B. recognising his status as someone who is very much not Mina’s friend (yet?). So what does it mean?

It means he is breaking down

We saw him run himself ragged to save Lucy and fail. We’ve seen him fall from witty and pretentious banter (with Seward) to hysterical sobbing and laughing (also with Seward) in the span of a few weeks. We’ve seen him hide the truth while also giving out clues, we’ve seen him break down because he knows, and doesn’t want to burden anyone else with this knowledge, but realistically can’t bear the weight on his own.

So when he reads Mina’s letters — the ones Lucy never got to open — he has no choice but to reach out. Mina is not a doctor like Seward, she’s not a Strong Young Blood Donor like the suitors, she’s just a young woman who is also struggling and also loved Lucy, and this fifty-something genius finds a sense of kinship in her, and immediately decides she is the only person who can help him.

But that means she must know, and therefore be trapped in the same Hell he is. Hence the structure of the letter. I LOVE THIS BOOK

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[firefly-factory]

"The degeneracy of the Empire is on display here in this room," or, "Ondolemar knows they'll never fire him"

Silly little comic based on this post by @skyrim-forever

Ondolemar knows that no one else wants to move to skyrim (even if Elenwen ordered them to) so he's basically irreplaceable.

Snippet of story below the cut, because the Ondolemar brain rot goes deeper than I care to admit. It's the same vibe as the comic, but extended a bit <3

~

Ondolemar stood with his back to the wall, a drink in one hand while he chatted with one of the party-goers. She was a pretty mer with near-white hair and sharp gold eyes. It surprised him when she asked about the growing tensions with the Empire, but he had been happy to oblige with an answer. It gave him an excuse to ignore the dirty looks the First Emissary had been shooting him all night.

" . . .our needs. But make no mistake, this is not a peace forged out of necessity between rival nations of equal strength. It is more like the calm between storms. And the next storm, I think, will be far deadlier than the last."

The mer - he thought her name was Astra - nodded thoughtfully. But before she had a chance to say anything more, the First Emissary stepped in, interrupting the conversation.

"Ondolemar." Elenwen hissed, grabbing the mer by the elbow. "I need you to come with me."

She dragged him out into the hallway, closing the door behind them. After she ascertained that they were properly alone, she crossed her arms, scowling at him. Her overdone eyeshadow made her usually sour expression even more severe. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Simply talking to one of our guests about the future of--"

"We both know that's not what I'm talking about. Your shoes! Where are they?"

She gestured angrily at his bare feet. He wiggled his toes in response, but said nothing else.

Elenwen put her palm to her forehead, sighing heavily. "Such behavior is unbefitting a Commander of the Thalmor."

This time he actually laughed. "My behavior? The degeneracy of the empire is on display at this party, and you're concerned about my footwear? I doubt your 'esteemed guests' even noticed, with how suspicious they are of us and each other."

Elenwen opened her mouth again, as if to protest.

He cut her off, sneering. "And if you don't like it, good luck finding another commander who's willing to relocate to this miserable icebox of a country. Let alone one who is willing to give up the -barest- of creature comforts just to meet your standards of propriety."

He pivoted on one bare heel, striding back to the main room. Elenwen, for once, was speechless.

[desertdxg]

tw rape (not cnc), venting, negative

its been four months, and its all i can think about.

i can feel the duct tape on my wrists.

i can feel the pressure on my neck and chest.

i can taste the fabric of his boxers in my mouth.

i can still feel the dull sting on my ass from the canes.

i can feel the hair being ripped out from the tape he used to make me keep it in.

i can smell the non latex condoms he used, because he was allergic to latex.

i sob and cry and panic whenever a pillow ends up on my face.

even when it was an accident, or it happened in my sleep...

i wake up in terror, thinking that it's happening all over again.

and there's five new scratches on my face to prove it.

i get aroused thinking about it, sometimes.

and yet, im ashamed of it and ashamed of myself for letting it happen.

i have taken at least a hundred showers since that day, may seventeenth, twenty twenty-three.

multiple times a day, some days, and the filth he has buried in my skin has not washed off and i doubt it ever will.

i was and am a stupid whore, and im ashamed of myself for letting it happen to me.

i remember he only stopped because he couldn't get it up and cum any more.

it was four months ago and it was all my fault.

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Alright time to walk into an upscale grocery store in full cosplay to buy myself some chocolate