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kckt88 · 2 days

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A Heartbeat Between Us VII

Summary:

Y.N and Aemond settle into the joy of parenthood until the reapperance of an ex causes trouble between them.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Tension, Small Time Skips, Swearing, Idiocy, Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Mild Violence, Kissing, Smut, P in V.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count:

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Y.N. let out a deep sigh of relief as she stepped into the familiar space of the penthouse, the soft lighting and comfortable surroundings immediately making her feel at ease.

“It feels good to be home,” she said, smiling as she gently laid Jack in his moses basket.

Aemond came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

Together, they gazed down at their son.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” Y.N. whispered, the awe in her voice unmistakable.

Aemond hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “He really is,” he said softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

Their moment of quiet bliss was quickly shattered by the sound of the front door swinging open. Aegon burst in with their suitcase, dumping it carelessly in the hallway.

Aemond shot him a glare. “Could you keep it down?”

But before Aegon could reply, Daeron appeared in the doorway, holding up a pizza box with a grin. “Didn’t think you’d be up for cooking, so I figured pizza would be ok”

Aemond glanced at Y.N., silently asking if she was okay with this sudden invasion. Y.N, smiling despite her tiredness, nodded.

“The more the merrier,” she said, making Daeron grin even wider.

“Impromptu game night!” Aegon cheered, clearly excited by the idea.

Aemond leaned in close to Y.N. and whispered, “I can tell them to leave if it’s too much.”

Y.N. shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Let them stay.”

The four of them gathered around the dining table, the pizza quickly being passed around. Y.N. laughed as Daeron recounted Aegon’s failed attempt to ask Ellyn Baratheon out on a date.

“I just don’t know what her problem is,” Aegon complained, dramatically throwing his hands up.

Aemond scoffed. “You slept with both of her sisters.”

Aegon waved him off. “Actually, that was you.”

Y.N. choked on her water, her eyes wide in surprise.

Aemond’s cheeks flushed pink as he cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze. “I-went through a bit of a phase before I got with Alys.”

Aegon smirked, enjoying his brother’s embarrassment. “Yeah, it’s called being a slut.”

Aemond shot him a look. “We don’t need to be talking about this in front of the mother of my son.”

“Oh no, we do,” Y.N. chimed in, her amusement clear.

Aegon leaned back in his chair, clearly relishing the chance to tell tales.

“So, this was when you were off at your artsy college,” he said to Y.N., “Aemond went through his little phase. He slept with Maris and Floris Baratheon in the same week and then ghosted them both. After that, there was some Tully girl, a Massey chick, and a bunch of randoms from clubs before he got with Alys.”

Aemond clenched his jaw. “That’s enough, Aegon.”

But Aegon wasn’t finished. “What about you, Y.N.? What’s your dating history?”

Y.N. raised an eyebrow at the question but answered easily. “I dated Cregan.”

“Cregan Stark?” Daeron asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Yeah, he was my first boyfriend,” Y.N. said with a smile. “After him, I dated Davos Blackwood for a while, then I was single for a bit, then got involved with Jacaerys-and then Aemond.”

Aegon took a long sip of his beer, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Interesting,” he mused.

Y.N. turned to Daeron. “How do you know Cregan?”

Daeron shrugged casually. “Met him a few times when I had a brief thing with his sister.”

Y.N. laughed. “Sara? Yeah, she had a thing with Jace too.”

Aemond, sensing the conversation getting too personal, reached for Y.N.’s hand. “You okay?” he asked softly.

Y.N. smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Everyone has a past.”

Before Aemond could respond, the sound of Jack’s cries filled the room. Y.N. stood, giving Aemond a quick peck on the cheek.

“I’ll go feed and change him.”

As soon as Y.N picked up Jack and left the room, Aemond turned to Aegon, glaring. “You didn’t need to tell her all that, you fucking idiot.”

Aegon shrugged, unfazed by his brother’s anger. “She asked.”

Y.N. returned to the room after tending to Jack, her movements a bit slower than usual, but her smile as bright as ever. She rejoined the group at the table, where the impromptu poker game was in full swing.

They played a few rounds, the banter light and playful, with Aegon predictably losing most hands while Daeron remained surprisingly good at keeping a poker face.

As the game went on, Aemond noticed Y.N. fidgeting in her seat, shifting uncomfortably every few minutes.

Concern furrowed his brow as he glanced over at her. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with genuine care.

Y.N. put her cards down and sighed softly. “I think I’m going to go for a warm bath. I’m a bit sore-you know-down there.” Her cheeks tinged pink as she admitted it, the awkwardness of postpartum recovery suddenly apparent.

Aemond, ever attentive, leaned in closer. “Do you want one of the pads I put in the freezer?”

Aegon wrinkled his nose in exaggerated disgust. “You have what in the freezer?”

Aemond rolled his eye, unbothered by his brother’s antics. “I read it in one of the baby books. Putting pads in the freezer helps with the soreness after giving birth. It’s supposed to be soothing.”

Y.N. smiled at Aemond's thoughtfulness. “I’ll just go have a bath for now, but could you bring me one when I shout for you?”

Aemond nodded. “Of course, I’ll also bring you painkillers if you need them-”

As she made her way to the bathroom, Daeron looked genuinely surprised. “I honestly didn’t know that.”

Aegon, predictably, shuddered in his chair. “And I don’t want to know that.”

Aemond shot him a pointed look. “No one’s forcing you to stay.”

Aegon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms stubbornly. “I’m not leaving until I win at least one game.”

Aemond smirked, clearly unfazed. “Good luck with that.”

Almost eight weeks after Jack's birth, living with Aemond had quickly become intolerable for Y.N., not because of his behaviour, but because she couldn’t ignore how much she craved him.

Every day, it felt like a battle to keep her hands off him, and her frustration only grew. His tailored suits drove her mad with desire, and the sight of him in sweatpants while working out? It was unbearable.

But the worst part was lying in bed beside him, feeling the heat of his body, and his hard cock pressed up against her in the mornings.

She couldn’t take it any longer. Tonight, she decided, she would act.

After bathing and feeding Jack, she cooked Aemond his favourite meal, dressing in something far less comfortable and far more revealing—a tight black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places.

The plan was simple: seduce him, and finally tell him that she was in love with him.

Just as she was setting the roasted lamb on the table, she heard the sound of Aemond’s keys in the door.

When he walked in, his eye widened, stunned by both the smell of the delicious meal and the sight of Y.N. in the dress.

His gaze lingered on her long, smooth legs, the way the fabric clung to her figure, and—oh gods—her breasts.

He swallowed hard, feeling his body react immediately, and he was sure his mouth was watering for more than just the lamb.

“Hi,” Y.N. greeted him with a breathy hello. “Come sit down. Dinner’s ready.”

Aemond, still dazed, shrugged off his jacket and hung it up before taking a seat at the table. The lamb, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and gravy were all perfectly laid out before him—his favourite meal, no less.

As Y.N. poured him a glass of wine and filled her own with orange juice, he couldn’t help but watch her every move, completely entranced by her appearance.

Y.N. sat beside him and gestured toward the food. “Eat.”

He didn’t need to be told twice—he was starving. As Y.N. slowly picked at her food, Aemond practically inhaled his, hardly taking a breath between bites.

He’d barely finished his plate when Y.N. finally spoke up, a little more serious.

“I’ve been thinking about going back to work soon,” she said softly, taking a sip of her drink. “We’ll need to figure out what’s happening with Jack. I can manage when I work from home, but when I’m at the bookstore-”

Aemond nodded between mouthfuls, his attention split between his plate and her words. “Sure, we could ask my mother to help or—Aegon, maybe? He doesn’t work.”

Y.N. took a deep breath.

Now or never.

“Aemond, I wanted to talk about—"

But before she could finish, his phone rang, cutting through the tension in the air.

Aemond quickly stood, glancing apologetically at her. “I’ll get it. Don’t want to wake Jack.”

He left the room, and Y.N. could only sit in frustration, the moment she had been building up to slipping through her fingers.

When he returned a few minutes later, his expression was odd, distant.

“Who was that?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Aemond hesitated for a beat too long. “It was Alys.”

Y.N.’s heart sank. “What did she want?”

“She’s in town-wanted to know if I fancied meeting up.”

Y.N. rose to her feet, struggling to keep her voice calm. “I guess you should, then.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “I don’t have to go.”

“I’m not your keeper, Aemond,” she said, her tone colder than she intended. “You can do whatever you like.”

Without waiting for a response, she began clearing the plates from the table, stacking them into the dishwasher with a rigid, practiced efficiency.

Her mind whirled, frustration mounting. Before he could say anything else, Y.N. excused herself, claiming she needed to check on Jack.

That night, she didn’t return to their shared bed. Instead, she quietly slipped into the spare room, leaving Aemond alone to grapple with what had just happened.

The next morning, Aemond rose early, careful not to disturb Y.N. or Jack as he prepared for work. Before leaving, he quietly peeked into Jack’s room.

The baby was nestled peacefully in his blankets, his small chest rising and falling with each breath. Aemond couldn't help but smile softly at the sight.

Then, he made his way to check on Y.N., who was still asleep, her hair spread across the pillow. He stood there for a moment, torn between the warmth of his home and the unresolved tension from the night before.

With a deep sigh, he left for work.

As he sat at his desk that morning, Aemond couldn’t stop thinking about Alys.

Part of him believed that he owed her closure, or at least an explanation. He wasn’t a complete arse.

After deliberating for hours, he decided he would meet her for dinner—just to talk.

Nothing more. He picked up his phone and called her. She answered almost immediately, her voice smooth and familiar.

They arranged to meet at a local restaurant for dinner at 6 p.m.

When he arrived home later that afternoon, ready to tell Y.N. about his plans, he found the penthouse empty.

A scribbled note on the counter caught his eye: Gone to spend the day with Helaena.

Aemond frowned, a wave of unease settling over him. After a quick shower and shave, he dressed in one of his best suits, fixing his tie in front of the mirror, mentally preparing for the dinner ahead.

Just as he stepped into the living room, adjusting his cufflinks, he stopped in his tracks. There, on the sofa, was Y.N., back from her day out, quietly breastfeeding Jack.

Aemond hadn’t even heard her come in. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her—tender, beautiful, motherly. He walked over and pressed a gentle kiss to Jack’s forehead.

Y.N. glanced up from her son, her eyes lingering on Aemond’s suit. “Where are you going?” she asked, her tone neutral but her eyes wary.

Aemond hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I’m meeting Alys for dinner.”

Y.N. didn't look at him as she burped Jack, her voice soft but strained. “That sounds nice.”

Aemond noticed the sheen of tears gathering in her eyes, and guilt tugged at his chest. “I can stay,” he offered quietly, “If you want me to.”

The sadness on Y.N.’s face suddenly turned sharp, her words snapping out like a whip. “Why would I want you to stay?”

Aemond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he grabbed his phone and wallet from the table. “Fine,” he muttered. “I won’t be gone long. Call me if you need anything.”

Y.N. looked up, her expression hardened as she clutched Jack tighter to her chest. “What, and interrupt your date with your grandma? No thanks.”

Aemond stiffened. “It’s not a date.”

Y.N. shrugged, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business anyway. Not like I’m anyone important.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel, walking off to Jack’s room to settle him into his cot.

She heard the front door open and close with a soft click, the sound of Aemond leaving twisting something deep inside her.

But instead of letting the sadness linger, Y.N. steeled herself.

With a deep breath, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found Aegon’s name. She hit call, and after just a couple of rings, his familiar voice greeted her on the other end.

"Hey, you busy?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

“For you? Never,” Aegon replied with a chuckle. “What’s up?”

“I need some company,” Y.N. said, glancing at Jack’s sleeping form in the cot. “Think you can come over?”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

After hanging up the phone, Y.N. smiled to herself, feeling a strange sense of determination settle over her.

If Aemond wanted to play games, fine. She could play too.

Aemond arrived at the restaurant, scanning the elegant room until he spotted Alys already waiting for him.

Dressed in a striking red dress, she stood as he approached, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

“You look good,” she said, her red lips curving into a familiar smile.

“Thanks,” Aemond replied, pulling out his chair and sitting across from her. The tension in his shoulders was unmistakable, though he tried to relax as they began their conversation.

“How’s work?” Alys asked, leaning in slightly.

Aemond sighed. “It’s been a bit hectic. I took some time off when Jack was born, and now Rhaenyra’s gone off on holiday with her uncle.” He emphasized the last word with a slight sneer.

Alys chuckled. “He’s your uncle too.”

Aemond shrugged, dismissing the thought. They ordered an expensive bottle of wine, and after the waiter poured them each a glass, Alys surprised him by raising hers.

“To your son,” she toasted.

Aemond smiled, raising his glass. “To Jack.”

They clinked glasses, and Alys watched him as she sipped her wine. “What’s it like being a father?” she asked, a soft curiosity in her tone.

Aemond's expression softened, his guard briefly dropping. “It’s tiring, but I love it. He’s-everything.”

He reached for his phone, unlocking it and eagerly showing her the countless photos, he had taken of Jack—sleeping, yawning, bundled in tiny blankets.

Alys smiled as she looked at the images. “He’s beautiful. Looks a lot like you.”

Aemond nodded, his pride showing before he tucked the phone away.

They moved into casual conversation as Alys mentioned her future plans. “I’ve been thinking about starting my own business in America,” she said, swirling her wine glass. “I’m grateful to Larys for all he’s done, but I think I’m ready to go out on my own. I’m flying out this weekend to look at properties.”

Aemond nodded. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

As the food arrived, Alys glanced at Aemond before asking, “How is Y.N?”

“Oh, she’s good, she’s been talking about going back to work-” replied Aemond.

“Already. Isn’t Jack a little young?” asked Alys taking a sip of wine.

“She can work from home if she wants to-but she enjoys being at the bookstore, so I think I’ll ask Aegon if he’ll watch Jack if Y.N does go back to Howlett’s” replied Aemond.

“You trust Aegon with your son?”

“Yes, actually I do-even though he’s a momentous pain in my arse, he adores Jack and he’s really good with him, I was actually thinking of asking him to be godfather” said Aemond.

“Does Y.N get on with him? as I recall he didn’t like me very much” muttered Alys.

“Yeah, they get on-a little too well sometimes, although I’m sure Aegon just does it deliberately to wind me up” muttered Aemond.

“Oh-so are you and Y.N in a relationship now then?”

Aemond paused, cutting into his meal before responding. “Not exactly. But there is-something between us.”

Alys raised an eyebrow, her voice lowering. “Do you love her?”

Aemond didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I love her”

The simple admission hung in the air, leaving Alys momentarily silent.

They ate in relative quiet for a few minutes before Alys spoke again, her voice softer now. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, I know it can’t have been an easy decision to make”

“No-I mean it’s ok. I just don’t want there to be any bad feelings. Were both adults, right?”

“Yes, we are.” said Alys as she took a small sip of wine.

“I’m glad-” replied Aemond as he took out his phone and sending a quick text to Y.N who responded by sending him a picture of Jack fast asleep all snuggled up in his blanket.

“Seeing you today has made me realise how much I’ve missed you, Aemond. These past few months, it’s been-different without you” whispered Alys.

Aemond put his phone back in his pocket and shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.

He tried to steer it back to something safer, talking about work, but Alys’s mind was elsewhere.

As he spoke, she watched him, thinking about how much she had missed the attention she once received when she was with him.

His sharp features and lithe body, and the looks of envy she would receive from other women for being the one on Aemond’s arm had been a delicious bonus.

They finished their meal, and ever the gentleman, Aemond helped Alys with her coat.

When his fingers accidentally brushed her skin, she shivered. The memories of their time together rushed back—and the nights they spent tangled in sheets.

She missed that, too. Especially with him. The others she had been with since their break up had failed to measure up to Aemond’s prowess in the bedroom.

As they walked toward her car, Alys glanced up at him. “I had a good time. Maybe when I get back from America, we could do this again?”

Aemond gave a noncommittal smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

He bid her farewell, watching as she drove away. Once Alys was out of sight, Aemond let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He looked at his watch to check the time before deciding to make a quick stop at the bakery around the corner.

Inside, he picked up a lemon love cake—Y.N.’s favourite. He knew she had been upset with him for meeting Alys, and he hoped this small gesture would help smooth things over.

Cake in hand, he walked back to his car, eager to get home and make amends.

Aemond arrived home, the click of the door announcing his return. The first thing he noticed was the unmistakable scent of fried chicken.

His eye immediately landed on the KFC buckets scattered on the kitchen counter. Glancing towards the living room, he saw Aegon sprawled out on the sofa, a half-empty beer in his hand, and the movie Lake Placid playing on the TV.

“I see we have a visitor,” Aemond said dryly, tossing the box containing the lemon love cake onto the counter.

It landed with a dull thud, and he realized with a sinking feeling that this was Y.N.’s way of getting back at him for going to dinner with Alys.

Y.N., lounging on the armchair as she breast fed Jack, gave him a casual shrug before turning her attention back to the film, seemingly unbothered.

Aegon stood up from the sofa, making his way over to Aemond. “So-Y.N. told me you’re dating Alys again. Please tell me that isn’t true.”

Aemond shot him a look of disgust. “Unlike you, Aegon, I can actually keep it in my pants.”

Aegon let out a sharp laugh. “Errr, remind me again how Y.N. got pregnant? Because she might’ve been single, but you sure as shit weren’t. So don’t try that righteous act with me, little brother.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t argue back because, on some level, Aegon was right. His past decisions had been messy, reckless even.

But it didn’t make this any easier to swallow. He unbuttoned his jacket, trying to steady his breathing.

Aegon took a long swig from his beer and shook his head. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Alys only contacted you because she’s after something. The woman’s a snake, and it’s about time you realized that.”

Aemond’s patience was thinning, the tension in the room palpable. “Thanks for the advice,” he muttered, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over a chair. “It’s been noted. Now get out—and don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

Before Aegon could respond, Y.N. called out Aemond’s name, her voice soft yet filled with unspoken hurt.

But Aemond, still seething, cut her off sharply. “Don’t. We’ll discuss this later.”

Aegon sighed and glanced between them before walking over to Y.N. “Take care, okay?” he said softly, giving her a warm smile before making his way toward the door.

She waved sadly in response, her eyes lingering on him as he left.

Once Aegon was gone, Y.N. wordlessly turned off the film, her earlier playful mood vanishing. She stood up, holding Jack close as she retreated to her room, leaving Aemond standing alone in the kitchen.

The next morning, the tension between Aemond and Y.N. was unbearable, a heavy silence that weighed down every moment.

As Aemond sat at the kitchen table, he watched Y.N. breastfeeding Jack on the sofa, her focus entirely on their son. His anger simmered just beneath the surface, and he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I'm glad you get on with my brother," he said, his voice tight, "-But does he have to come over when I'm not here?"

Y.N. looked up, confusion crossing her face. "I don't understand what the big deal is."

After Jack finished feeding, Aemond took him from Y.N., rubbing his back until a small burp escaped.

He gently placed Jack in his bouncy chair, the little boy gurgling happily. Y.N., her eyes weary, got up to get dressed. But before she could leave the room, Aemond was suddenly looming over her.

"You know," he said quietly, though his voice was laced with intensity, "-It would sincerely piss me off if you started dating my brother."

Y.N. wrinkled her nose, taken aback. "Dating Aegon? I don’t see him that way, Aemond. He's nothing more than a friend."

"Good," Aemond muttered as Y.N. turned and walked away from him, leaving him standing in the kitchen, a mixture of frustration and relief swirling in his chest.

Days passed, and they both avoided the real issue between them. They were cordial when it came to taking care of Jack—splitting the responsibilities, making sure their son was always cared for—but their interactions were minimal.

The tension between them only seemed to grow with every word left unsaid.

Nights were the worst. They didn’t share the same bed anymore, and the absence of Y.N. beside him was gnawing at Aemond’s heart.

He would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the moments he’d held her close and simply listened to the sound of her breathing.

One night, while Aemond was sitting in bed with a book, the silence of the room only amplified by his lonely thoughts, he saw Y.N. hovering by the door.

She stood there, lingering, like she had something on her mind, something important to say. Aemond’s heart leapt in his chest, his breath catching as he waited for her to speak.

But then, she hesitated, her eyes flickering with doubt. And just like that, whatever courage she’d gathered seemed to vanish. She turned and walked back to her own room.

Aemond let out a long breath, setting down his book and pressing his palms into his eyes. He let out a muffled scream into his pillow, frustration and longing coursing through him.

He missed her—missed the warmth of her beside him, the softness of her touch. He wanted her back in his bed, back in his life the way she had been before. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go.

But now, they were both trapped in this limbo, unwilling or unable to break through the wall that had built up between them.

Aemond carefully changed Jack’s nappy, talking to his son in soft murmurs as he worked. After ensuring everything was secure, he lifted Jack onto his shoulder, rubbing his back in soothing circles. The baby let out a small burp, and Aemond smiled, feeling a surge of affection as Jack relaxed against him.

Just then, Y.N. emerged from her bedroom, dressed nicely with her hair and makeup done. Aemond looked up, momentarily taken aback by how beautiful she looked.

“Where are you going?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Y.N. adjusted her handbag. “The museum called. They have another piece they want restored. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ve pumped enough breast milk for Jack. You just need to heat it up.”

Aemond nodded, his breath catching in his throat when Y.N. leaned over him to kiss Jack on the top of his head.

She lingered for a moment, then pressed a soft kiss to Aemond’s cheek. The simple gesture sent warmth through him, and he found himself struggling for words.

As she straightened up and headed for the door, Aemond called out, “Wait.”

She turned, raising an eyebrow. He tossed her his car keys. “Take my car. It’ll be easier for you.”

Y.N. smiled, a brief but genuine expression of gratitude, before she turned and left the penthouse.

Aemond stood there for a moment, holding Jack and watching the door close behind her.

Not long after she left, there was a knock at the door. Aemond, holding Jack in the crook of his arm, opened it to find Alys standing on the threshold.

She was dressed in her usual sharp attire, and Aemond frowned in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone more curt than he intended.

Alys smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I was hoping to have a word with you.”

Aemond hesitated, glancing down at Jack, but against his better judgment, he stepped aside and let her in.

Alys removed her coat, her eyes scanning the penthouse. It looked different from the last time she’d been there—baby accessories scattered across the living room, toys tucked into corners, and the once pristine reading area replaced by Y.N.'s workbench.

“Y.N. is a restoration artist,” Aemond explained, noting her gaze. “Remember I said she works from home sometimes.”

Alys nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “So, you two live together?” she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“We have a child,” Aemond replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Alys’s lips curled slightly. “Is Y.N. home right now?”

“No,” Aemond said, “-She’s got a meeting at the museum. So, it’s just me and Jack”

At the mention of Jack, Alys's eyes softened as she asked, “Can I hold him?”

Aemond hesitated for a second before nodding. He carefully placed Jack in her arms.

Alys cooed at the baby, her voice a bit too sweet for Aemond's liking. "Oh, Aemond, he’s so precious.”

But as if on cue, Jack suddenly threw up on her, causing Alys to shriek in surprise.

Immediately, Jack began to cry, and Aemond took him back, cradling him in his arms and gently rocking him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, rubbing Jack’s back until the crying subsided.

Alys, meanwhile, stood awkwardly with the mess on her clothes.

Aemond handed her a towel with a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s not his fault,” Alys muttered, dabbing at the sick on her dress as best she could.

Aemond quickly changed Jack into fresh clothes and placed him in his bouncy chair, where the baby gurgled happily.

“You’re a good father,” Alys remarked as she sat down.

“I try,” Aemond replied, still feeling the remnants of frustration from her sudden appearance. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A coffee would be nice,” Alys said with a smile.

Aemond made her a coffee and sat across from her once she had the cup in hand. “So, what did you want to discuss?”

Alys took a sip of her drink before explaining, “I’ve found a couple of properties, both residential and commercial, but I’m having a little trouble securing contacts for my business. I was wondering if you could help me out, just to get started.”

Aemond leaned back in his chair, his expression carefully neutral. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Alys raised an eyebrow. “Because of Y.N.?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened. “I don’t want to complicate matters. Things between us are-strained enough as it is.”

Alys leaned forward smiling, her tone soft but insistent. “It’s just business, Aemond. I’m not here to come between the two of you.”

Aemond considered her words for a moment. “Maybe I can recommend some clients, but I can’t get involved beyond that.”

Alys smiled, satisfied for the moment. “That would be more than enough. Thank you.”

Aemond was on edge the moment Alys left. He paced around the penthouse, wondering how he could possibly tell Y.N. that Alys had been there.

He didn’t want to deceive her, but he knew she wouldn’t be happy once she found out. His thoughts raced as he bathed Jack, making sure he was fed, burped, and finally laid down in his cot.

The baby was swaddled in the soft blanket Helaena had gifted him, with the gentle melody of the dragon mobile filling the room.

Aemond whispered, "Goodnight," kissed his son's forehead, and quietly left, turning on the baby monitor before heading into the living room.

He sat there, nerves eating at him. Every sound made him jump, anticipating Y.N.'s return.

When she finally walked through the door an hour later, her arms laden with files and the brightest smile on her face, it only made Aemond feel worse.

“How was the meeting?” he asked, his voice betraying his tension.

Y.N. placed the files on her workbench, her smile widening. “It went brilliantly! They were so impressed with my work on the statue that they’ve asked me to restore two more pieces.”

“That’s amazing,” Aemond said, his tone genuine despite the knot in his stomach.

“It means I won’t be able to go back to working for Mr. Howlett, though. This commission takes priority, but it’ll make me some good money—and hopefully, lead to more business.”

Aemond nodded, trying to focus on her good news. “You should get business cards made. That way, anyone who wants to hire you can easily get in touch.”

Y.N. smiled, nodding. “That’s a good idea. I’ll look into that.” She paused and glanced around. “How’s Jack been?”

“He’s been fine,” Aemond replied, shifting in his seat. “He’s already down for the night.”

Y.N. seemed pleased. “Good. I think I fancy a drink. I’ll have to pump and dump, but I could really use a glass of wine.” She turned toward the kitchen, her mood light as she reached for a bottle of wine. “Want one?”

Aemond nodded, though his mind was preoccupied. He needed to tell her. The longer he waited, the worse it would be.

But just as he gathered the courage, Y.N. stopped mid-search for the corkscrew, her gaze falling on the sink. A cup sat there with red lipstick on the rim.

She straightened, her voice tight as she asked, “Who was here?”

Aemond swallowed hard. “Now, don’t get mad—”

“Why would I get mad?” she interrupted, already knowing where this was going.

“Alys popped by-”

The bottle of wine hit the counter with a thud as Y.N. turned to face him, her expression shifting from disbelief to fury.

She walked toward him; each step deliberate as Aemond instinctively took a step back.

“That woman was in here?” she demanded, her voice rising.

Aemond nodded, his throat dry. He barely had time to react when Y.N. reached down, pulled off one of her heels, and hurled it at him.

He dodged it, but the second heel came flying at him immediately after.

“How could you let that woman in here?” Y.N. shouted, her face flushed with anger. “You know how I feel about her, Aemond! How could you?!”

Aemond raised his hands, trying to calm her down, but it was no use.

She spotted a folded newspaper on the table, grabbed it, and began swatting him with it.

“You let her in our home, after everything?”

“She wasn’t here for long!” Aemond protested as he managed to snatch the newspaper from Y.N. “She held Jack and—”

“WHAT? You let her hold my son?” screamed Y.N in disbelief.

Aemond sighed in defeat as he handed the newspaper back to her and stood still as she resumed hitting him.

He didn’t try to stop her, knowing he deserved her anger.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stopped, her breathing ragged as she threw the newspaper onto the floor.

“I’m done,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of finality. “I’m moving out. And I’m taking Jack.”

Aemond’s stomach dropped, his heart hammering in his chest. He stepped forward, his voice trembling with desperation. “Y.N., wait—”

“No,” she cut him off, her eyes filled with pain. “I can’t do this anymore. I won’t have her anywhere near my son.”

“She’s not a threat to you or to Jack,” Aemond said, his voice pleading. “It was just business. I—”

“It’s never just business with her, Aemond!” Y.N. snapped, her hands shaking as she brushed her hair out of her face. “She’s after something, and you’re obviously too blind to see it.”

Aemond watched in stunned silence as Y.N stormed into her bedroom, yanking open her drawers and throwing clothes haphazardly into a suitcase.

Panic surged through him, and he followed her, hovering near the doorway, unsure of what to say.

His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice strained.

Y.N. rounded on him, her eyes blazing with fury. "What does it look like, Aemond? I’m leaving. You can be free to be with your precious Alys now."

His heart dropped at her words. "I don’t want Alys," he said, his voice soft but firm.

Y.N. scoffed, not even bothering to look at him as she continued to shove her things into the suitcase.

"Could’ve fooled me," she muttered bitterly, her movements jerky as she threw more clothes into the pile.

Aemond moved closer, watching helplessly as she angrily packed her belongings. "Stop," he pleaded. "We can talk this out."

Y.N. froze for a moment, her back to him, before she whipped around, her face contorted with a mixture of anger and hurt.

"Talk this out?" she repeated, incredulous. "I’m not playing second fiddle to some old arse geriatric who should be on a register. I refuse to be disrespected like this."

Her words stung, but Aemond tried to keep his composure. "It’s not like that—" he started, but she cut him off.

"Not like that?" she scoffed, yanking another drawer open with so much force it nearly came off the track. "You let her saggy arse into our home, Aemond. You let her hold our son. And now you’re standing here, telling me it’s 'not like that?'"

He reached for her, trying to calm her down, but she brushed past him, throwing more clothes into the suitcase with furious abandon.

"Y.N., it’s late," he said, hoping to appeal to her reason. "You don’t have to do this now. Please, just—"

"I don’t care!" she snapped, her hands trembling as she continued packing. "I’ll get a hotel for the night if I have to. I just need to get out of here."

Aemond ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt swirling inside him. "I’m sorry," he said quietly. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

“-Your apologise mean shit to me, because as soon as Alys whistles, her loyal dog will come,” said Y.N

“Do not speak to me in that way” snapped Aemond.

“I shall speak to you anyway I please-I’m not afraid of you”.

“Oh really” challenged Aemond, drawing himself to his full height.

“Yes-really, now do yourself a favour, and fuck off back to your grandma-” said Y.N.

“No” replied Aemond sternly.

“Fine. I will take Jack and leave you to your fucking old hag”.

“YOUR NOT FUCKING GOING ANYWHERE” snarled Aemond viciously.

“Going to stop me, are you? How exactly are you going to do that” balled Y.N.

“You will not leave me. You will not take my son” ordered Aemond his lip curling.

"I will and you will never see either of us again" threatened Y.N as she stood against Aemond, her body pressed against his.

"NO, YOU WON'T!"

“What are you going to do about it” snapped Y.N.

“You will not leave me” ordered Aemond.

“Oh, really and why not“ snapped Y.N

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU-”

“What?” squeaked Y.N.

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU” balled Aemond as he lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Y.N ripped herself away from Aemond.

Staring at him in disbelief as she put a hand to her mouth.

The resentment swirling in the pit of her stomach was now morphing into something else. The dormant fire of their relationship was roaring to life once more. Coursing through her body.

One kiss, that was all it took. She needed more. She needed him.

Suddenly Y.N wrapped her arms around Aemond's neck and drew him in back in.

Their kiss was rough and vicious. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It had been so long since they’d shared any form of intimacy.

Aemond backed Y.N towards the bed, his hands tearing off her clothes until they were a ragged mess on the floor.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

Aemond took a brief minute to yank off his t-shirt before he shoved Y.N on the bed, her back colliding with the mattress with a soft thump.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Y.N moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Aemond pulled away to push down his sweatpants and boxers, freeing his hard cock.

Y.N lay back on the bed, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

Aemond runs his hand up and down the length of himself, eyeing Y.N with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she parted her legs for him.

As he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is quickly pressing his cock inside and stretching her, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond, wrapping a hand around her throat while the other digs into her hip, pulling her aggressively against him to meet each one of his hard thrusts.

Y.N can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Y.N.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

As Aemond’s hips begins to falter in their movements, Aemond snakes a hand between their joined bodies, his long fingers expertly circling her pearl, causing heat to bloom across her stomach.

He presses down more firmly, making faster movements against her bud making her shudder, as a sudden warmth crashes over her in waves making her cry out.

“AEMOND!!” screams Y.N as her hands claw at his back.

“Fuck!! baby, that’s it come all over my cock!” growls Aemond as he moves to grab the headboard, bracing himself as he continues to pound his hips against hers.

“I love you. Aemond” gasped Y.N.

With a loud animalistic groan, Aemond stills, his cock pulsating as he spills his seed deep inside her.

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader

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cinnamon-galaxies · 10 hours

Text

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧

Pairings: Alastor x gn!reader Summary: In which Alastor tries to get rid of you by giving you a dangerous task and explores your room once you have left. What he discovers are things he wishes he could unsee... Warnings/Tags: explicit and suggestive content but no smut, 18+, MDNI, gn reader, Emberlynn-coded reader, unrequited love, reader is obsessed with Alastor and he can barely handle it, second-hand embarrassment, cringe, like, lots of it, exaggerated descriptions, comedy, mentions of violence, murder and death, very brief mention of suicide (Alastor barely keeps his sanity), fandom slander and random references (you either get it or you don’t), Alastor needs his own warning, humiliation, a whole bunch of passive aggressiveness and sarcastic remarks, trash-fic Wordcount: 6.5k A/N: This is a spin-off to my other Emberlynn-coded reader story ‘The Simp’. It can be read as a standalone, though I suggest reading the original first for a better understanding of the reader’s messed up personality and their complicated relationship with Alastor. This one escalated a bit more than I planned. It was originally meant to be much shorter, but I ended up having way too much fun writing it. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

It was a morning like any other in the hotel. The air was still and tranquil, the residents just beginning to stir as they readied themselves for the day ahead. Alastor strode through the dimly lit halls, his mind set on a singular destination: your room.

A familiar weight settled in his stomach, a feeling that had lingered since the day he claimed your soul. Your insufferable presence had become a constant in his existence, haunting him with a mix of irritation and curiosity. He braced himself for yet another day filled with your exhausting demeanor, yet he knew he had an important task to assign to you.

As he approached your door, he could already hear the faint sounds of movement within – your usual morning routine, perhaps accompanied by some melodramatic humming. The thought made his insides twist, but he reminded himself of the necessity of the task at hand.

In front of your door, Alastor closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself for yet another one of your annoying tirades, then knocked. Once, twice – the door opened when he moved to knock a third time and he almost punched the air. Immediately, his crimson eyes darted down, and there you stood, already dressed despite the early hour, with an eager grin plastered on your face, your expression brightening like an unexpected sunrise breaking through the clouds.

“Good morning, Alastor!” your squeaky voice disrupted the early quiet of the hotel and Alastor cringed inwardly, his ears twitching at the painful frequency. He opened his mouth to retort with a dry greeting, but before he could utter a single tone you already interrupted him, the words spilling from your mouth like an accelerated record, “Is something wrong? Do you need my help? It’s still so early in the morning and you knocked on my door – I mean you never knock on my door, so there must be something wrong. Is there anything wrong? Do you need my help? Please let me help you, Alastor!”

Instant regret grew inside of him as he tried to keep up with the neverending flood of your words that were uttered so fast he barely managed to understand what you said. He just stood there, staring at you with his mouth slightly agape, overwhelmed and the wheels turning in his head as he tried hard to piece together the fragments of what he caught from your extensive monologue.

“Uhm…” He blinked, staring at your worried but also anticipatory expression, the adrenaline heating up your face like a tomato, making it appear as if it was about to burst. He imagined your head exploding and withheld a chuckle, the mere thought of all your blood and viscera spilled around your room a delightful image in his head.

“Well, my dear, I do in fact have a task for you,” he eventually said, his voice much calmer than he felt. He always relished the stillness of his sleepless nights, when you finally left him alone, allowing him to unwind from the stress you constantly stirred within him. If he weren’t already dead, he’d probably be at risk of a heart attack from your relentless annoyance. Seriously, how could someone as utterly miserable as you be so exhausting? Maybe he should consider seeing a therapist before he completely snapped. It wouldn’t be long before he lost all the control he’d worked so hard to maintain. He could feel it, deep in his bones – the silent scream of agony echoing within him.

You immediately straightened your back at his words, crossing your hands behind your back in anticipation. “Oooh, a task! Tell me! I’ll do it as soon as possible!”

Here's the missing part filled in:

“I sure hope so…” Alastor muttered beneath his breath before he tilted his head to the side and responded much louder, “Well, it is something of high importance…” he drawled out, the radio static in his voice crackling, and he could swear he saw your eyes gleam.

“What is it, Alastor-kun?” you interrupted him, and Alastor’s eye twitched, though he did not further elaborate, choosing instead to let the moment linger with a teasing smile.

“Well, you see… I need you to fetch something from Cannibal Town. There’s a butcher on Carcass Lane who sells the most delectable venison in the entire Pride Ring. I need you to grab some for lunch. Here’s the address and the list of items I need.” He handed you a crumpled piece of paper, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes, and you snatched it from his hands, pressing the note almost against your face while you read it.

Alastor raised his eyebrows as he watched you literally absorb the information, then you looked up and nodded exaggeratedly.

“I'm on my way!” you declared and scurried past him, the wind of your fast movement causing Alastor's hair to flutter. He turned around with a narrowed eye and crooked smile, a look of irritation on his face, but you had already disappeared behind the corner before his eyes could follow. He stared in the direction you just disappeared for a few more seconds before his smile widened into a predatory grin, flashing his sharp and pointy canines with a sudden, exhilarating thrill that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. This was an easy success. You really were so desperate to serve him that you were stupid enough to run to Cannibal Town alone. You, a small little creature, pathetic and completely helpless, were nothing more than prey for the people in this part of the city. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, you'd get eaten before you even reached the butcher shop, and thus a problem would've been solved without much effort on his side. Genius.

Still standing in the doorway, he turned back around. Alastor had never dared to knock on your door before – because of obvious reasons which have just been confirmed to be true. But now that you were gone and hopefully not returning, he got curious. Without further thought he entered your room and closed the door behind him, turning on his heels to take a look around. His eyes widened with every detail that caught his eyes. Bright pink and violet walls clashed with white polished furniture that could've been sourced from a doctor's office. The cabinets and shelves appeared almost sterile compared to the atrocious clutter in and around. Dozens – no, hundreds – of plushies and figurines were crammed into the tiniest of spaces. It was a chaotic explosion of color and fluff, a seemingly random assortment that defied all attempts at organization. The shelf was filled with books and boxes that were somehow puzzled into the space like some kind of a real life Tetris game. The walls – dear Satan, the walls – were suffocatingly plastered with posters in colorful palettes that showed a wide range of grotesquely exaggerated, wide-eyed monstrosities. The eyes of the characters – if they could even be called that – were so enormous that they seemed ready to fall out of their skulls, while their breasts rivaled their heads in size. It was as if the artist had taken every ridiculously hyper-sexualized fantasy and spilled them out on paper to create those unnatural horrors of eyesore that depicted an unhealthy and disrespectful portrayal of the female body. How were their waists so small? Did they even have organs in there? Alastor raised his eyebrow as he eyed the pictures. Some of those creatures bore animalistic features with cat ears, bunny tails and other appendages like they were common in hell, yet seeing the mere addition of those features on such grotesque figures was more than unsettling to him. The others were probably supposed to be human but their proportions were so out of control they looked like misbuilt mannequins from the fashion store of mistrust.

Alastor's eyes drifted further across the wall until they landed on the image of a pale man with sharp pointy ears and curly white hair who was mid-bite on a woman's neck, the blood pouring from the wound and running over the woman's chest in a subtle yet intendedly suggestive way. The text read ‘Baldur's Gate’.

What in Hell's name was a ‘Baldur's Gate’?!

Before his mind could even attempt to comprehend this madness, his gaze landed on another poster with the same writing and same world – but this one featured a woman swooning in the arms of what could be an octopus-man hybrid.

Alastor blinked, horrified. Yes, that was indeed an octopus with glowing eyes and squirming, slimy tentacles wrapping themselves around the poor woman as though she were just another victim of this abhorrent nightmare. Wait – were those tentacles caressing her?!

He gagged, the taste of bile appearing on his tongue. “This is disgusting,” he hissed, a shiver running down his spine. He could barely process what he was seeing. ‘Baldur's Gate’? Hell, maybe you belonged there. Maybe he'd be doing you a favor by sending you straight into that absurd world where vampires, octopus-men, and God knows what else ran free, far away from him, where you could fulfill your worst fantasies of–. He neglected the thought before he could finish it, his stomach churning and the threat of another gag rising in his throat.

But then, his eyes caught something worse. Yes, worse. Somehow the room found a way to outdo itself. Layered posters plastered the other wall – yes, layered – leaving almost no surface of the actual wall visible underneath. And the images – Satan help him – the images were so obscene, he couldn't withhold himself from widening his eyes in shock. Muscular men – half naked and grotesquely exaggerated – posed with claws, fangs, and the most ridiculous expressions of primal desire imaginable. Texts like “Alpha” and “Bite me, baby” screamed from these posters. But the final blow came from a particular poster showing a dripping wet, absurdly muscular mafioso leaning into a shower, a caption in giant, sultry text reading, “Are you lost, babygirl?”

Alastor's jaw practically unhinged as his eyes widened in horror.

What. The. Fuck.

He averted his gaze, barely suppressing another gag, and found himself standing in front of a shelf, hoping for some brief moment of sanity. But no – his hopes were shattered. The shelf was packed with small figurines or more cat-girls and octopus men, between them some green-haired man holding two Katana in his hands and one between his teeth. How the hell could he even fight like this? This didn't make any sense at all. And – was that the sculpture of spaghetti with a face?! He stared at it with one eye widened and the other narrowed, his lids twitching under the pressure and his smile was shaped into a confused grimace. Why the Hell did you have spaghetti on your shelf?! But of course that wasn't all. Between those figurines were even smaller creatures that looked like they'd crawled from the very bowels of an overactive, perverted imagination. With a roll of his eyes and a deepening sense of disgust, he glanced at the books. Big mistake.

How – just how could every single corner of your room be even worse than the last?! He was barely able to keep himself from laughing as he read the titles of the books that were stuffed into the tightest of spaces. Each one was worse than the one before: “Bound by Blood and Lust”, “Slave to the Beast”, “Taken by the Overlord”, “Marked by the Alpha”, “The Alpha's Virgin Omega”... and even more dreadful titles. “My Immortal” was the most normal of them all. But even a harmless title could hide one of the worst stories in all of history. If Alastor knew one thing, then it was that one should never judge a book by its cover – or in this case: title.

He took a deep breath, stepping back from the shelf, his gaze still locked on the chaos around him. He found himself standing before your desk, turning with a low hum, eyes scanning the mess of paper stacks and notebooks with a bizarre mix of morbid curiosity and utter disgust. Your room was like a car crash – something no one wanted to witness, yet impossible to look away from. In a nutshell: It was absolutely atrocious.

With narrowed eyes he took one of the paper stacks in his hands and shuffled through the pages. Most of them were notes and doodles, some better than others, but the majority looked like the deformed mannequin creatures from your posters – only more disturbing. Their eyes, grotesquely oversized and much rounder and bigger than the ones from the posters, were filled with far too many reflections, giving the eerie illusion of tears, yet each character wore an unsettling grin, twisted and unnerving, disturbingly similar to his own at its worst. He continued his expedition through your mess, not surprised to find some drawings of himself but shocked by the sheer quality and painstaking detail you had put into them. Then, his breath caught in his lungs. His eyes widened, pupils constricting in disbelief as he stumbled upon yet another drawing of him – this time, barely dressed, with a lewd speech bubble in the corner. ‘Oh, don’t be shy, little one. I promise, this is one signal that’s sure to reach every part of you…’

He instantly flung the papers aside, recoiling with a loud, distorted radio screech. You truly were a creature of Hell. Did your parents even love you? They must’ve been really bad people if they managed to spawn such a fucked up creature like you… Maybe it was a good idea to just leave the room without exploring your personal belongings any further. Not even getting mauled to death by bloodthirsty dogs was as traumatizing as the deep, dark abyss of your mind. But before he could turn away, something caught his eye. A pink notebook that was adorned with glitter stickers and handwritten quotes lay right in the middle of your desk, a few pens strewn around it as if you were just using it. He knew he shouldn’t. Every single look was worse than the one before. He knew this flashy notebook would most probably hide even more stuff he would regret to ever have seen. However, there was a quiet little voice that tried to lure him into doing something he knew he would regret.

With caution he approached the desk again and reached out his hand, his finger tips grazing the surprisingly soft material of the cover. He held his breath as he took it into his hands and opened it. The first page was adorned with hearts and tiny flower doodles, the image of a cathedral radio in the corner. In the middle of the page stood written in flourished cursive: “Static Lust – A Dark Romance Fanfiction”. Underneath, your name.

He frowned. What was a fanfiction…? With a bad feeling in his guts he turned the page and began to read your surprisingly neat handwriting. His eyes flew over the words, taking in every sentence and he cringed inwardly at the badly written plot. The story was ridiculously self-indulgent, starring you as a tragic figure that was kidnapped and brought to Hell by none other than… him.

Alastor blinked when he read his name, wrinkling his nose and inhaling a deep breath. Of course. He should’ve known. Fan-fiction. Knowing how hard you were in love with him should’ve prepared him for what he was about to discover.

As uncomfortable as he felt, he continued this little venture into the literal intonation of your deepest thoughts. Somehow, it amused him. It was as if he was reading your diary, just more messed up. And most definitely pushing his boundaries.

You portrayed him with a personality that couldn’t be farther off from reality: a lovesick obsessive who wanted nothing but to corrupt you, possess your soul and your whole being. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. The sheer absurdity of it all – the dramatized seduction, the over-the-top description of his passion for you were unbearable to read. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from continuing the story. His eyes continuously trailed over every sentence, soaking in the words as if his life depended on it while his heart sank deeper into his guts. His expression was completely motionless and his already pale face drained of even the last bits of color. The worst was: it didn’t stop here. As the story progressed, so did your so-called ‘romance’.

His fingers trailed along my jaw, claws grazing my delicate skin as he kept his gaze locked with mine, crimson eyes boring themselves into my very core as if he was reading my soul. I felt completely naked under his gaze, caught between desire and a flicker of fear at his imposing form. “Be mine,” he growled with a deep sultry voice, the radio static gone and his hot breath grazing against my cheeks. Sharp teeth glinted from behind his smile, a silent threat yet so intriguing. The danger, his power, his possession were palpable. Everything left me completely breathless and a shiver ran down my spine, causing the butterflies in my stomach to flutter wildly around. It was a tingling feeling, one that jolted electricity through my veins and into the depth of my core.

He swallowed hard at the description, nausea taking over his stomach, replacing the appetite he just had for a tasty bite of rotting venison. He would never say something like that to you. He would never do something like that to you. And most importantly, he could never love you. He wasn’t even able to love. But even if he were, he'd be more likely to fall for Lucifer than he would ever waste a single thought on you.

‘Be mine.’

He let out a huff. You were already his. Certainly not in the way you wanted it to be, but he owned your soul. Which meant he could do to you however he pleased. But nothing similar to this bullshit from your writing, obviously.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he continued to read and the story development was truly as bad as his characterization and anything else. The more he continued, the more his eyes widened in horror. It didn’t take long for the writing to turn explicit – vulgar and smutty. Each sentence was dripping with suggestive language, painting a picture of you and him in intimate situations.

I couldn't resist him any longer, the way he dominated the room, the power in his every movement. My heart raced as he leaned in closer, his voice a seductive purr that caused my hairs to stand up. “You were a naughty little thing,” Alastor whispered, his lips brushing my ear and his voice dropped to a baritone that vibrated in his throat, “and you deserve to be punished.” I shuddered, feeling my entire body tremble in anticipation. “Alastor…” “Uh, uh, uh,” he brushed me off, his nose grazing the skin on my neck while his hot breath sent shivers down my spine and right into my core. “Say it. Say, ‘Punish me, Sir,” he commanded, and I–

Alastor slammed the book shut for a moment, closing his eyes as if to cleanse himself from what he had just read. He let out a sharp exhale, then opened the notebook again with a resigned sigh, morbidly fascinated by the sheer audacity of your words. His smile became brittle, twitching as he forced himself to read on.

Alastor pressed me firmly against the wall, his finger tracing a line down my neck, the touch gentle but brimming with control. I felt his sharp claws graze my skin, leaving faint red marks that would serve as a silent testament to his claim over me. I remained still, terrified that the wrong move could turn his claws from teasing to lethal. “So naughty…” he growled in my ear, his voice sending a shiver down my spine before he stepped back, creating a cold distance between us. The sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill through me, goosebumps prickling across my skin as I resisted the urge to reach for him, knowing he wouldn't tolerate such disobedience. Alastor’s intense gaze swept over my body, lingering on every inch, and I could feel the heat pooling between my legs, the wetness trailing down my thighs. “Strip,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. I obeyed without a second thought.

This was absurd. This was disgusting. This was absolutely disturbing. This was how you viewed him? A domineering, smoldering lover? The mere idea was enough to make his skin crawl.

He gagged once more, the mere thought of touching you making him recoil in pure revulsion. This went beyond simple disgust. It was something far deeper. What was any of this supposed to be? Did you actually believe he could ever reciprocate your twisted feelings? Were you truly so desperate that you wrote an entire book about him doing such indecent things to you? He couldn’t comprehend it, and it only worsened his already low opinion of you. He knew he shouldn’t have read it, but did you honestly think he wouldn’t find out eventually?

Part of him just wanted to die again. To disappear and never return, to tear out his eyes and brain and offer them to his equals in Cannibal Town. Was there anyone in Pentagram City who still performed lobotomies? He definitely needed one after this monstrosity of an insult to all literature ever created.

He flipped through pages in haste, no longer bothering to read the entire story, just skimming over a few lines here and there. With every word, it became more unbearable. The grotesque images your writing forced into his mind were intolerable, destined to haunt him for the far future where they would resurface in his rare moments of sleep and flash before his eyes every time he looked at you. It was obscene, nonsensical, and revolting. Violating not only his sense of decency but also his personal boundaries.

What started off as a toxic fast-paced back and forth between the two characters turned out to be nothing more than a pure over-sexualized scandal. You and Alastor would do it everywhere. In the bed, in the shower, in the hotel's parlor, on the counter of Husk's bar – even on the balcony while you glared up at one of Vox’s drones, knowing damn well the television freak would watch. He even found a chapter in which he took you into his radio station and broadcasted your moans all over Hell, so everyone knew that you belonged to him.

“Ah, Alastor-kun!” I moaned in both pain and pleasure.

“Punish me, Mister Radio Demon, Sir!”

“Ah, harder, deer-daddy!”

“YAMETE KUDASAI!!!”

He slammed the book shut again and dared not to open it again. What. The. Actual. Fuck. Was wrong with you?!

His face was white as chalk, his eyes twitched and for the first time in decades, his smile had disappeared and instead, his face was adorned by a completely and utterly traumatized grimace. This was… this was an affront to his dignity, to his entire being.

His thoughts raced like a whirlwind as he imagined every possible way to make you regret this. To punish you – not in the way you do desperately wanted – but actually punish you in the most gruesome and painful ways he could imagine. Over the decades, Alastor got creative with his murders. Maybe he would even discover new ways to torture a soul before tearing it apart, shredding it into pieces to ensure not only your death but to erase your existence from history entirely. Perhaps he’d even find a way to prevent you from ever being born at all.

Fuck.

But until then, he would keep his rage silently hidden inside of him, deep behind the walls he had constructed to maintain his control.

Alastor let out a laugh, though it was more out of frustration than amusement, the sound hollow and laced with irritation. Of all the souls he could have ended up owning, it had to be yours – lovesick simp with a disturbing penchant for writing self-indulgent filth. Oh yes, you were destined to be his punishment. The punishment Alastor most probably deserved in his afterlife. But before he could continue his train of thoughts, he got interrupted.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” your frantic voice shattered the silence of your room as you burst through the door, nearly knocking it off its hinges. Alastor flinched, startled by the sudden commotion. His head turned a full 180 degrees to face you, accompanied by the snapping of bones and sharp crackle of radio static, and you froze mid-step, locking eyes with him.

You blinked once, then twice. “Oh, Alastor! I'm so sorry!” you cried, your eyes glistening with tears. “I’m so, so sorry! I screwed up!”

He stood there, holding your notebook, his expression frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. His heart raced in his chest as you hurried toward him, trembling slightly.

“I went to the butcher, but I forgot my purse at the hotel! I had to come back for it!” you rambled, breathless, and Alastor’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m so sorry I won’t have your supplies in time! Please forgive me, Alastor! Or punish me! I’d love to be punished! I–I mean – I deserve to be punished! I can also punish myself if you prefer! Just forgive me for being so stupid!” you pleaded, completely oblivious to the fact that Alastor stood in front of you with your most mortifying secret in his hands.

Tears streamed down your face, but Alastor just stared, mouth slightly agape, yellow teeth peeking through as he stood there, overwhelmed. He held your notebook in his hands, the disturbing contents trapped between its thick covers, while you rambled on about a forgotten purse and your desire for punishment. All the while, you remained utterly unaware of the true embarrassment in front of you.

“Uh…” Alastor exhaled at a loss of words.

You gazed up at him with teary, wide eyes, then your eyes slowly drifted down to his hands. Realization hit you like a train. Your eyes widened and grew so big in size that they rivaled with the creatures on your posters, the color from your face draining, turning your skin from pale to snow-white in an instant.

“No...” you breathed, your voice weak and barely above a whisper. You shook your head slowly, stepping back, repeating the word in disbelief, as if doing so could undo the reality before you.

Alastor's initial shock dissolved into a wicked grin. His pupils constricted, and the glow in his crimson eyes intensified with a dangerous gleam. Watching your horror unfold, filled him with a surge of dark satisfaction and the thought of simply torturing you felt far too mild now. No, this reaction was much more satisfying, much more delicious. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as an idea took root. This wasn't just good. It was perfect. The situation was playing right into his hands.

“Well, my dear, it appears that you've stumbled into quite the predicament, huh?” his static-filled voice broke the uncomfortable silence and he turned around fully, tilting his head in a derogatory manner. “Care to explain?” He asked, his fingers tapping against the book one after another, the sound of his claws clapping against its surface a haunting melody. His voice was much too light and way too cheerful for what he felt on the inside, but it was the perfect way to confront you with the danger you just put yourself into. It made him hard to read. It put him in charge.

“Well… uh… uhm…” you stumbled, momentarily speechless. Alastor could see the wheels turning in your head and he noticed your pale cheeks turn a red color that was almost as vibrant as his coat.

He took a step closer and tilted his head further, almost holding it at a 90 degrees angle. “Well…?”

“I– it's not what–” you started but Alastor interrupted you.

“Save this nonsense. This is exactly what it looks like, dear. Now, tell me, what is this thing you're so ashamed of, huh?”

You began to fumble with your shirts, fingers fidgeting with the fabric as your breaths grew more ragged. “I–I–It's… a diary!” you shouted that last word. “A diary! Yes, yes! Nothing more! Just a few thoughts about my life at the hotel!” you tried to save yourself from this situation, crafting a lie that was so obvious that even the most stupid person would've seen right through it. And, after all, it's not that Alastor didn't just read page after page with an abhorred expression. But you didn't need to know. Not yet. He'd let you squirm a little before dropping the bombshell. So, he just raised an eyebrow and turned the notebook in his hands, eyeing it from all sides with faux curiosity. “Is that so?” he drawled and you seemed to shrink under his looming presence and intense gaze.

You nodded hastily, your whole body vibrating with the simple movement. “Yes! Yes…”

“Well…” Alastor paused for a moment, glancing down at the supposed ‘diary’ and then darting his eyes at you from under his lashes, a quick flicker of mischief dancing across his features but no less intense.

You swallowed. And Alastor could see your throat jolt up and down.

“Well,” he repeated, “if it's just about the hotel, then I guess you wouldn't mind if I take a look.” He moved his hand to open the notebook but your panicked voice interrupted him.

“No!”

He stopped his movement, thumb and index just touching the upper rim of the front over. He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh? And why's that?”

“Because… because… it's not good. It's just… bullet points and quick notes. Nothing special, really! Just ugly smearing and shitty drawings!” You explained in a rush, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other while you bit the corners of your cheeks and your hands kept fumbling with your shirt.

Wait. Drawings? Alastor blinked. There were illustrations in there too?! He swallowed. Hard. Though his expression did not reveal any of the discomfort that crept through his veins like a venomous snake on the hunt for something to eat.

“Oh come on, they can't be so bad!” Alastor assured while he made sure his fingers lingered at the very same spot, a silent threat that he could – and would – open the book any second.

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you stared up at him with pursed lips, a pleading expression on your incredibly blushed face as you silently, yet loud enough for everyone to hear, begged he would put it aside and dismiss your personal belongings.

You folded your hands in front of you as if praying to some God, your voice barely above a whisper, “I mean it, Alastor. Please don't open the book. Please…"

Oh, this was delicious. This was so much better than any torturing method he had imagined just mere minutes ago. Your pleading expression, the fear in your eyes, the way you so desperately tried to keep him from opening the book while you were completely unaware of the fact that he had already read its contents. That he knew about your deepest, dirtiest desires, your pathetic longing for him that must’ve affected you so strongly you spend hours and hours of your free time to create something this atrocious… He could see your body tremble. He noticed every inch of your skin on fire, every single hair standing on edge. He smelled the panic that surged through your veins and heard the blood rushing through your arteries, powered by the frantic beating of your pounding heart in your chest.

The silence between you stretched on and Alastor enjoyed every second of it, reveled in this moment of utter uncertainty. He heard your ragged breaths, how you tried to force yourself to keep your breathing as steady as possible, fighting against the tears that glistened in your eyes. Alastor realized you resembled the drawings he’d discovered in that chaotic stack of paper, and his grin grew even more sinister, exposing his sharp fangs in all their menacing glory.

It was at this moment he knew time had come to drop the bombshell. To reveal the truth to you and humiliate you with the product of your own creativity.

“‘Deer-daddy’, huh?” he casually quoted one of the lines from your story and he saw you twitch, his sadistic satisfaction growing even stronger.

“What?” you whimpered in shock but before you could say more, Alastor opened the notebook and flipped to the very page where he read it, turning the book around for you to face your own writing and pointing with his clawed finger at the line.

“Here it is, ‘deer-daddy’,” he repeats again, tapping against the page twice. Then he inhaled deeply, raised one eyebrow and looked at you like a disappointed parent. “First off, I am not your father,” he clarified, his tone still casual, a subtle hint at the hidden danger underneath his facade. “And secondly… Wouldn’t that make the whole plot of your story a little… incestuous…?”

The trembling of your body intensified and your breaths got quicker, impossible to control as you found yourself at the brink of hyperventilation.

“Oh, come now, dear. Why so nervous…?” he drawled and your lips began to tremble.

“You…” you started but your breath caught in your throat, your voice trembling as much as your body. “You… read… it…?”

Alastor fell silent for a moment, his burning red eyes taking in your pitiful state. Then his smile widened, casual yet unnervingly so, before he cheerfully exclaimed, “Of course I did! How could I resist this flashy little booklet you so obviously displayed in the middle of your desk? I simply had to read it!” He closed the book and thrust the cover into your face, an exaggerated gesture meant to highlight its eye-catching design. The stickers you had playfully plastered on now seemed to mock you for forgetting to hide it away.

Holding the book closer to himself again, he shifted his gaze between it and you. “But let’s be honest, dear. Your storytelling could use some work.” He opened the book again and flipped through the pages. “You started off strong with your self-insert and their dramatic backstory – it caught my interest at first. But come on. Kidnapped into Hell? By the Radio Demon, due to a ridiculous Halloween bet gone wrong?” He raised an eyebrow at the sheer absurdity of the plot before he continued, “First off, summoning me to Earth requires much more than a little pentagram, some candles, and a radio. I deserve better sacrifices than that. And do you honestly think I’d find a pathetic little human being, especially one like you, interesting? What could you possibly offer in return for my favor besides your fragile soul? I’m not the kind to wait years or decades for a death so a bargain can be fulfilled. It’s simply… inconvenient.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, as he critiqued your writing like an editor at a publishing house.

“And kidnapping someone just because of their ‘tempting nature’ and without further motive? That’s quite foolish. What if the Sins found out? Or other powerful beings in charge?” He stepped closer, glaring down at you with a still raised eyebrow, his casual demeanor betraying a hint of enjoyment in your discomfort. “Don’t you think they’d come after you if they learned that a human managed to survive a descent to Hell? Honestly, you’re missing quite a thrilling plot here.”

Alastor’s eyes flicked over the pages, taking in fleeting words without truly reading. He didn’t need to reread to recall the errors and striking details; they were burned into his mind – probably for the rest of eternity. As he took a deep breath, he stumbled upon a lewd drawing of you and him tangled together on a desk – something he must’ve overlooked before and wished he could forget now. So, there were illustrations in this book. You didn't lie.

Blinking, he turned the page, pushing aside this humiliation for a moment to continue his critique, “While your writing style is surprisingly enticing, the rest of the story lacks character development, thrill, and depth. It could have been executed much better – if we ignore the fact that it centers around me being your beau and engaging in... inappropriate activities while indulging in exaggerated displays of carnal desires. You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” He chirped, glancing at you with anticipation, waiting for you to form a response. But you were speechless. Not a single word managed to leave your lips as you just stared at him, dumbfounded, your mouth agape and eyes widened in horror and confusion.

Alastor sighed. “Oh come now, dear. If you can be so bold to bring such an imagination to paper you can surely just answer my question.”

“I–,” you stuttered, pausing to gather your strength to do as he commanded. But instead, the words tumbled out as an apology. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude–”

“Uh, uh, uh, dear!” Alastor interrupted, waving his index finger in front of your face. Your eyes squinted, tracking its movement. “We both know you’re not ashamed of intruding on anything related to me. Considering you’ve been following me around with those doting eyes of yours ever since the day you begged me to take your soul. You’re a bold little creature, utterly devoid of dignity, feeling the need to humiliate me in the process.”

He closed the book and handed it back to you. Your trembling hand snatched it from his grip, and you hugged it protectively against your chest, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Meanwhile, Alastor continued his scolding, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of distance between you. He tilted his head, looming over you like a predator, eyes narrowed and teeth flashing.

His voice dropped, growing darker with each word, the static crackling around him making the air feel charged as he hissed, “I suggest you cease this violation of my privacy before I make sure you regret every little thought you’ve ever dared to indulge in regarding such frivolities.”

For a fleeting moment, his eyes turned an abyssal black before returning to their fiery hue. It was a subtle threat, yet clear as day. He lingered, staring down at you, savoring your pathetic state, before shadows engulfed him, pulling him into darkness until he vanished completely, leaving you alone in your room with just your thoughts and the memory of the consequences of your inappropriate behavior.

Yes, he definitely needed that therapist.

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