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tightjeansjavi · 8 months

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The Rite of Movement | part two

“first impressions”

part one | honeymoonin’

A/N: well, well, well, fancy that we’re all meeting up here, huh? 🥵 first, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @itsokbbygrl who has been feeding my brain rot all day. I appreciate you so so much and your input is extremely helpful 🥺 I do not have a lot of knowledge on the adult film industry, but I’m eager to dive into it with y’all. We all have our different preferences and tastes when it comes to porn, (if you choose to watch it) but for me personally, I’m into porn that is catered to women. And guess who else is? Joel fuckin’ Miller! I hope these impromptu drabbles give you all the warm, fuzzy, and hornknee feelings. In this household, we support sex workers 💗 we also support healthy communication during sex, safe sex, and sexual liberation for everyone. Thank u also to @strang3lov3 for the title 🤍

~word count: 5.0k~

Summary: it’s your first time meeting Joel Miller, your new adult film partner

Pairing | pornstar!joel miller x pornstar f!reader (and a sprinkle of pornstar!tommy miller. More to come in later chapters!)

Warnings: 30s reader/40s joel, general discussions of the porn industry, brief discussions of workplace trauma, mild swearing, kissing, slightly inappropriate workplace relationship, boss/employee power dynamic but it’s only lightly explored in this chapter, voyeurism, light smut, f!masturbation, reader has no physical descriptions, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol consumption, +18, minors dni! Let me know if I missed anything!

When you moved back to Austin Texas looking for a fresh start after a rather rocky experience doing unsatisfying pornos as a regular on screen talent for the mega studio, Brazzers, you never expected to rejoin the industry through a professional studio. After being fired, you settled on making solo amateur films in an attempt to pay your bills and make ends meet. The only problem was rent in LA was nowhere near affordable, and the pay was significantly less than you’d been bringing in from the studio. That’s when you made the decision to leave the state of California entirely, looking eastward towards a once-familiar home.

Your roots were in rural Texas, and although your parents ultimately disowned you for joining the adult film industry, you still had a support group of fellow transplants in Austin that had missed you terribly.

The porn industry was always evolving, but with these changes came an influx of new content. You had a decent following for a small time account, but without the promotion budget that came with films produced at larger studios, your homemade solo films were inevitably pushed to the bottom of the pecking order, making it difficult to expand your audience. You thought about quitting entirely and getting an everyday job as a receptionist at some corporate office, until one night you stumbled upon a channel account that was based in Austin. “Miller-Co, Real people, real sex, professionally produced for your pleasure.” Surrounded by unpacked moving boxes on your single, sad, sofa, you poured yourself a tall glass of wine and clicked on the first video that appeared on the channel’s page, its male lead catching your eye immediately and you clicked the video details to find his name.

Joel Miller was big in every possible sense. From his hands, to his biceps, to his strong thighs. His cock was stunning. It wasn’t the longest cock you had ever seen, but it was deliciously thick, a girth that had you salivating immediately. Not only was it big, but the more you watched, the more you learned he sure knew how to use it. Despite Joel’s brooding nature, his attentive care to his partners on screen was something you had never seen before. He was a talker, a praiser and it seemed he only did scenes in positions where he could see his partners face while they came. The studio lighting was softer, inviting, and very, very intimate.

You clicked through more videos. Joel’s apparent brother, Tommy Miller, was also a big talker, but he reminded you more of a sweet frat boy with some serious golden retriever energy. In simple terms, Tommy liked to pound it. His style seemed more physically intense and fun, lighthearted even. He could do more sensual, intimacy based scenes, but that was more Joel’s forte, you gleaned as you continued to consume their content. Tommy’s cock had an inch or so on his brother, but his cock wasn’t as thick. What it lacked it girth it made up for with how it was curved, and you could only imagine how easy it would be for him to hit that spot inside of you that sent you keening.

The more you watched these two brothers in their element, the damper your flimsy panties grew. It had been so long since you had gotten off while watching porn that you weren’t even sure if you could have a successful orgasm from it. Boy, were you wrong.

Your clit was soon overstimulated and pulsing beneath the soft silicon of your vibrator. You tossed the toy to the side and paused the video while you caught your breath for a few minutes, coming down from your high. A sense of post-orgasmic clarity settled in your mind and something was telling you that working for this channel’s studio might end up being your calling. A wonderful, horny twist of fate. Your ticket back into the industry that had left you both emotionally and physically bruised.

You couldn’t help the gleeful giggle that slipped past your lips the further you scrolled down the channel’s main page, looking for information on Miller-Co’s parent studio, and discovered a link at the bottom: Auditions.

You scrambled to update your resumé, and threw together a portfolio of your past work and clicked on the link. You submitted your application and downed the rest of your wine before closing the screen to your laptop with a decompressing sigh.

No one could say that you didn’t try.

On the other side of town Joel Miller was just closing up the studio for the evening to meet Tommy at their usual watering hole for a drink. His phone buzzed, notifying him that he had a new email and while he walked to his truck, he opened the email.

He had been recently looking for a new film partner outside of his current talent pool. Things were going well at his and Tommy’s boutique adult film studio, they were starting to see growth, and that meant making sure there was regularly fresh content for their growing audience.

Despite receiving 100s of applicants a day from his online posting on his studio’s PornHub channel, none of them were quite what Joel was looking for..until he opened up your application. Joel got a sudden overwhelming feeling in his chest that you were exactly the type of on-screen partner he was looking for. He exited out of the email and sent a quick text to Tommy. Hey, I'm gonna be a few minutes late. Got an applicant that I think will be perfect.

After sending the text to his brother, he opened the email once more. Your resumé was brief, and a noticeable frown crossed over his face when he saw that you were ex-Brazzers. When Joel was 18 and fresh to the industry, he worked for Brazzers. Being so green, he hadn’t known what exactly to expect, so he suffered through in the name of independence and regular pay, but he had hated it, and especially hated the way it made him feel. The culture there had led him to never wanting to partake in making that type of porn again. There was no emphasis on the comfort of his female partners, little to no communication between the actors, and Joel ultimately was uncomfortable with following through with the things he was requested to do. Half the time it didn’t even feel good. And what the hell is the point of making porn if both participants aren’t having fun and feeling pleasure?

For this reason, he felt wrong viewing the content that you had made with Brazzers. Given his prior experience, he could only imagine what you had gone through, and he didn’t want to see you that way. His business was solely based around respect, consent, and comfort as a top priority.

He opted to view your solo amateur content instead. You were a natural, and he knew that he could easily make you a star, if that’s what you truly wanted. Joel knew that mixing pleasure with business, in this industry in particular, could end up messy, but he never felt so physically and emotionally attracted to another human being till now.

His fingers worked fast on the screen as he responded to the email.

Hello,

It’s after working hours for me, but I just went over your application. You’re a natural, and I would be extremely interested in meeting for an official audition. Here is the address to the studio, and my personal work number.

I am off tomorrow, but if you are interested, I can go ahead and schedule a meeting for noon?

Looking forward to hearing from you,

Joel Miller.

He receives an email response from you five minutes later just when he starts the engine of his truck.

Hello Joel,

I would absolutely be interested in coming in for an official audition tomorrow. Noon works for me as well.

See you then!

He lets out a sigh of relief at your response and despite his goal to remain professional, he can’t help the flush that rises to his cheeks at the thought of filming with you. He sends a calendar invite to your email address with the meeting time of noon tomorrow. He tosses his phone into the cup holder and finally drives to the bar.

“She’s ex-Brazzers. Moved all the way from LA just like you and me.” Joel discusses with Tommy over a beer. He takes a sip from the rim and slides his phone across the table to the opposite end of the booth where Tommy is sitting.

“And she’s only been doing solo amateur content as of late?”

“Yeah, she’s only got a few videos up, but it sounds like she’s ready to dip her toe back into the industry. She’s a natural, Tommy. Real captivatin’ on camera.”

Tommy glances down at your application and lightly taps out a bit of ash from his cigarette in the ashtray resting near his elbow. “That so? Well, guess I’m just gonna have to see for myself jus’ how captivatin’ she is.” He looked over at his brother with a knowing grin and pulled out his earbuds from his jacket pocket and slipped them in.

Joel intently observes his brother watching one of your solo films and when he sees Tommy reach down to adjust himself, he couldn’t help but grin.

Tommy’s cheeks have a bright flush to them as he hits pause on the video, taking out one of the earbuds and makes direct eye contact with his brother. “Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous. Those eyes? Brother, I feel like I was being sucked into the screen! God, and her little whimpers? The way they kept gettin’ higher and higher—” Tommy said animatedly.

Joel feels a twinge of jealousy zip up his spine like he was shocked. Tommy’s never been shy, and neither has Joel, but he’s already feeling protective over you and he hasn’t even met you yet. “Yeah, she is a thing of beauty, ain’t she? I don’t know what it is about her, but I love her energy.” Joel comments thoughtfully.

Tommy, being the horndog that he is, can't help but look back down at the screen and the part where the video has paused. Your thighs are spread wide, fingers playing with your clit, teasing yourself while making occasional direct eye contact with the camera. “And god, that pussy? Y’ever see somethin’ so pretty? Bet she tastes like fuckin’ honey.” Tommy drawls.

“Tommy.” Joel snaps his fingers in front of his face in a quick motion. “Don’t go gettin’ too excited now. I’m the one meetin’ with her.” Joel gently reminds him.

“Well, I can see why ya like her so much already, Joel.” He winks and slides the phone back in his direction. “Don’t go gettin’ your panties in a twist. I think just based on this single video, she’s gonna be a good fit. On a serious note, I hope that Brazzers didn’t fuck her up too much.” He reaches for his beer and takes a sip.

“It’s her energy man, it’s infectious. She seems so gentle, soft, but you can tell that she knows exactly what she wants just by looking into her eyes alone.” Joel said rather dreamily.

“Y’gonna give ‘er the ole Joel Miller razzle dazzle then?” Tommy wiggled his eyebrows playfully with a chuckle.

Joel rolled his eyes and flipped him off before taking another sip of his beer. “All depends on her comfort level during our first interaction. I want her to know that she gets to call all the shots.”

Tommy tips his beer towards Joel in a mock salute. “And yet they say chivalry is dead.”

At first you wonder if Miller-Co is just another too good to be true scam and Joel had played you, providing you with the wrong address on purpose. Maybe this was a sign for you to never try studio work in the adult film industry again. You were standing outside of a hardware store, triple checking the address while simultaneously looking up at the sign: Miller-Co

Joel is sitting behind his desk when he sees you teetering around outside. He checks the time on his watch—quarter to noon—and smiles. He’s a punctual person himself and always had this philosophy of showing up earlier than planned out of respect for everyone’s valuable time.

He gets up from his desk and walks towards the door just as you’re turning on your heel to walk away.

The door swings open behind you with a sweet chime, and then you hear the raspy timbre of his voice, his smooth southern accent that already has you feeling weak in the knees.

“Are you my 12 o’clock?” He grins a boyish grin that oozes a level of natural confidence and charm that men dream of possessing.

“Oh.” You laugh and fiddle with the strap on your purse. “I totally thought I had the wrong place for a second there.”

“Sorry ‘bout the confusion, darlin.’ Folks ‘round these parts can be…sensitive to what we’re doing here. Gotta be sure they ain’t have a clue what they’re walkin’ by, be discreet, y’know?” He holds the door open with his shoulder effortlessly, and you get a good look at his handsome features. Joel Miller is tall, well-groomed, and there’s something immediately comforting about him. You can’t quite put your finger on what that thing is, but it might have to do with the selfless energy that radiates from the depths of his soft, espresso colored eyes. Or maybe it’s the endearing heart-shaped patches in his gray speckled beard.

“Oh, thank god!” You laugh again, hoping he didn’t notice your staring, and he chuckles. Something flickers in your eyes that Joel registers as unabashed curiosity. He clocks the slight hitch of your breath, your pupils dilating.

“I take it you’re probably used to dingy warehouses, unkempt garages, and the occasional sketchy office building?” Joel quips. He slips one of his hands into the faded pocket of his denim jeans.

“Yeah, how did you know?” You retort with false sarcasm and a small smile.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Lucky guess?”

“Well, you didn’t not hit the nail on the head, Mr. Miller.”

You swear you see him blush, the tops of his cheeks turning a flushed pink color. “Oh, please, call me Joel, darlin’. Mr. Miller makes me feel so..old.” He laughs and subtly gestures to the open door. “And hope ya don’t mind me sayin’ this, but ain’t you jus’ the sweetest n’ prettiest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of layin’ my eyes on.” He winks. “Shall we?”

“Oh, please, you aren’t old at all, Joel,” you brush away his self deprecation as his compliment leaves you feeling flustered, the heat beginning to rise to your cheeks. “So, your videos weren’t lying then? You really are a sweet talker?” You flirt back.

“Some days I feel like I am, got a bad back and ‘a that. And, oh, I am quite the sweet talker, darlin’.” He holds the door open for you as you slip past him, brushing up against the rough denim of his jeans due to his sheer mass taking up most of the entryway.

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach when your eyes zone in on an all-to familiar black leather couch pressed up against the side of the wall. He notices your immediate discomfort and hesitation and clears his throat alongside you. “We uh—don’t film anythin’ on that, darlin’. It’s there more as a joke than anythin’.”

He sees you visibly let out a sigh of relief as your shoulders relax. You don’t see his face, but his lips are set in a deep frown and he genuinely feels bad. “There’s no leather couches or bright, headache inducin’ lights where I film, darlin’,” he adds softly and steps around you to pull back the chair at his desk.

You’re not even sure what to think or say as he pulls the chair back and you quietly sit down and watch as he sits across from you. “Hey, before we get into talkin’ business, I’m aware that you worked for Brazzers at one point, saw it on the application you submitted, and I jus’ wanted to let you know that me sayin’ ‘lucky guess’ back there was to ease your nerves. I understand what it’s like coming from that world, could tell that you were feelin’ a bit apprehensive, and I didn’t wanna jump right on into discussing your portfolio out in the open, y’know?” He held steady eye contact with you which was something that you normally would be intimidated by, but Joel wasn’t trying to make you feel small, his concern was genuine.

“It’s just been awhile for me since working there, but I appreciate you trying to ease the tension, Joel. I swear I’m not always this jumpy,” you add softly and he smiles.

“S’alright. I understand. I jus’ wanna start off by sayin’ that I want you to be comfortable, darlin’. That’s our first priority. We can film in the studio if you want. Now, personally, I never film here. All feels a bit too sterile for me; got a set up at home to film there. Feels more natural, but if you would rather be here, we can make that work.” He clicks a few buttons on the desktop mouse and pulls up your application so he has it to directly reference.

“Your first priority is that you want me to be comfortable?” The question tumbles past your lips and your pupils are blown wide. In past jobs your comfort was always pushed to the very bottom. It was viewed as insignificant and something that you were told you’d just have to suck up and get over. There was always a limited budget, which meant limited time, which meant little care given to anything other than hard and fast, turn and burn shoot days. And the studio executives cared about little except increasing profits year over year, so time and time again, you’d endured a lack of connection with your scene partners and set crew alike, never more than a quick direction thrown your way. No, comfortable was a far cry from what you were used to.

He’s not taken aback by your response at all. It’s something that he’s all-too familiar with, unfortunately. “Of course, darlin’. That’s the key to makin’ good porn, ain’t it? Both parties gotta be comfortable, otherwise the audience won’t feel connected to what they’re viewin’. All sex sells, but intimacy sells more.”

“I’m just not used to this kind of treatment, Joel. I honestly didn’t even believe that it existed in the adult film industry. The whole notion of comfort above all is just…new for me.”

“I know it is, darlin’,” Joel takes a breath before continuing, “I’m ex-Brazzers, too. Started there when I was 18, and left on my 30th birthday.” This was a piece of Joel’s past that was especially private, it came with baggage he still wasn’t entirely ready to unpack, and yet sharing this with you felt comforting for him.

“Oh my god, did they fire you too?” You lean forward in your chair feeling shocked that someone else in the industry shared the same awful experience as you did.

Joel’s heart shatters when he learns that you were fired. It makes him angry for you and the other women in the industry that were often released from their contracts for frivolous reasons. How could they let someone like you go? You have all the potential in the world with real, raw, talent, and on top of that, you were an absolute knockout. Those motherfuckers had a goldmine with you, and yet they couldn’t see what Joel sees.

“No, darlin’,” he frowns, “they didn’t. My brother and I made the decision to quit on our own. We stayed in LA for awhile with some old costars and made some amateur films before we moved back home to Austin, and started our own studio. I’ve strived to make porn that is catered to women. It’s a market that’s been largely untapped, and I’m lookin’ to shift the industry by showing how profitable it is,” he explains honestly. “And folks deserve to see real sex full of connection and intimacy and even sometimes some bloopers,” he chuckles. “It’s something that I’m incredibly passionate about, and that’s why it’s my utmost priority to make sure that you are respected and feel comfortable.”

You shrink in on yourself when the wave of sudden emotions hit and you don’t even realize your crying till Joel is getting up in a haste with a few tissues in his hand. His eyes are laced with concern as he crouches in front of you. “Hey, I’m sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean t’make ya cry. I jus’—know how harmful the industry can be, and ‘m tryin’ to build a safe space within it.”

Fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks as you try to laugh through the tears. You feel pathetic for breaking down in front of this man who you have only just met. He must think you’re a lost cause in the industry if you can’t even hold yourself together for more than five minutes. You sniffle as he gently brings the tissue upwards towards your face and gently brushes away your tears. “I’m sorry, Joel. I don’t mean to turn into this blubbering fuckin’ mess.”

“Hey, ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for, darlin’,” he coos. “Maybe we wanna get outta here for some fresh air? If you’d like? Know a nice quiet coffee shop jus’ down the street. How do you feel about that?”

You look at him through wet lashes and parted lips when you slowly nod. “Uh—yeah. That would..be great. I’m just not exactly comfortable in this environment,” you murmur.

“I understand. No hard feelin’s taken or anythin’. Would you like some help gettin’ up?” He offers you his freehand.

“You’re not..upset?” You question softly and grasp his hand in your palm as he gently helps you up from the chair. His palm is warm against yours and massive in size.

“Upset? No, not at all. I meant it when I said that your comfort is a priority, darlin.’” He affirms.

After you’ve composed yourself a bit, you let Joel lead the way to the quiet coffee shop down the street. He holds the door open for you and lets you pick a secluded table in the back. When you offer to pay for the coffees, he interjects with a small grin and shakes his head. “S’on me, darlin’. G’on now and make yourself comfy,” he nudges you gently towards the table.

It’s a depressing thought to have, but you think about how no man has ever treated you with the kindness and respect that Joel Miller has thus far. It’s the bare minimum, but you appreciate him for it deeply.

He returns with two lattes and places them on the table before taking a seat across from you. “Y’jus’ let me know when and if you wanna continue the conversation, alright? There’s no rush. I ain’t got anywhere else to be.”

You grasp the mug between your palms and let the warm steam wafting from the mug kiss your skin as you look over at him. “Well, I figured it would be okay with me to share with you a list of things I’m not comfortable with?” You lean over the side of the chair and reach into your purse to pull out a folded up piece of paper that you drafted up after submitting the application last night.

He nods and takes a sip of his latte. “Of course that’s okay for you to do. I’ve got a form for you to sign back at the studio that includes a section disclosing your limitations and your personal comforts. We like to keep it on file so we can prepare everyone before shoot day, that way there ain’t any accidental crossed boundaries.” He reaches across the table and gently takes the paper from you.

Despite everything Joel has told you thus far, you’re afraid that he’ll end up being judgemental based on your list. It’s pretty much everything that mainstream porn runs on: bondage, punishment, gang bangs, overstimulation, and anal to name a few. You’re already thinking of getting up from the table, and protecting what’s left of your ego when he sets the paper down, reaches for your hand, gently picks it up and kisses the back of it while looking into your eyes. “This is it? We can absolutely work with this, darlin’. Don’t you worry none,” he reassures you.

His lips against your skin are like two plush pillows. Soft, silky and it’s hard to not imagine what those lips would feel like pressed against either of your own. You expected shame, and instead were greeted with the complete opposite. He validated you, and that alone was making your head spin like a ferris wheel.

“I know you ain’t have any pleasant experiences in the industry, and that’s a damn shame. But I can promise you that you won’t have to worry about none of that with me. Okay, darlin’? Sweet girl, I’m gonna be honest with ya because that’s jus’ the kind of man I am. Y’got some serious talent that I think has been severely overlooked. I can make you into a real star if that’s what you want. I’m simply jus’ actin’ as a guideway for ya. And between you and me? I love my job, and I hope that maybe I’ll be able to turn those bad experiences you had into somethin’ good.”

Your eyes focus on his lips and their movement with each word that flows past them. Neither of you realize how close you’re leaning over the table till you can practically taste the hazelnut latte lingering on his tongue.

“Joel, I swear I heard every word you just said, and please tell me if I’m being unprofessional given the circumstances, but I really want to kiss you right now,” you breathe.

His brow raises and a dimple pokes through his cheek as a grin tugs across the corner of his lips. He chuckles softly, “Well, lucky for you, it’s totally appropriate given the circumstances. Jus’ one of the many perks of bein’ in this industry, darlin’. Unbridled desire is personally one of my favorite things.” He leans in closer, his tone dropping down to an octave that made you tingle with desire, and admits quietly, just for you, “If we weren’t here in this coffee shop right now, I’d show you just how unbridled my desire can be.”

You gripped the edge of the table for dear life. It took everything in you to not rip that man’s clothes off right then and there. That part of you that had laid so dormant was crackling to life again, and he could see those emotions swirling in your eyes. “Maybe we should get those papers signed so that you can show me if you’re really just all talk?” Your brow quirked upwards, mouth lifting into a flirtatious smirk just as his nose brushed against your own.

“Think you’ve seen enough to me to know that I ain’t bluffin’, darlin’.” His hot breath fans your lips as you reach across the table and rest a hand on his shoulder, the other steadying your balance on the table. Joel lifts his hand to your face and gently guides you by your chin. His lips brush yours, testing the waters while your tongue swipes confidently at his lower lip. He surges forward, hand moving from your chin to cup your face where your jaw meets your neck and deepens the kiss. You unconsciously let a soft moan loose, lost in the feeling, and Joel feels his cock come to life at the sound. It’s a good thing the barista behind the counter is too busy watching a YouTube video to see you and Joel practically gorging on each other's faces.

You can feel him smiling against your mouth before he leaves you with a final press of his lips and pulls back, sitting back in his chair, shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he brings his thumb up to the corner of his lips and wipes away a stray strand of saliva. “Think I’m gonna get a little somethin’ to eat. Y’want anythin’?” He rasps and reaches for his wallet in his pocket.

“Yeah.” You grin and rest your chin in your palms. “Something..sweet.”

A flush rises to his cheeks as he stands up from the chair and discreetly adjusts himself in his jeans and you giggle at the sight. You’d think it was his first rodeo by how quickly he had grown hard from just kissing you. Then again, Joel did say that he loved his job. And if he treated the less significant parts of his job like that, you were more than looking forward to seeing, feeling, him do the other parts of his job he loved, too.

You sat in that coffee shop for hours getting to know one another. It felt like no time had gone by at all, and it was obvious that you both were feeling that spark of an immediate connection blossoming. There was no denial that you and Joel were physically attracted to one another, but you had no idea what doors were now opened because of this first meeting. The chemistry was palpable, electricity ricocheting off the walls, and that unspoken language between one another was apparent.

“Hey, Joel? I think I’m ready to sign those forms now,” you spoke, wading through the building sexual tension.

“Perfect.” He grins. “Let’s go n’get ‘em signed.” He pats your thigh gently.

Once you’re back in the studio, Joel goes over every section of the documents and answers every single one of your questions with direct thoughtfulness and professionalism. You can hear your pulse beating in your ears when you sign the last page, clenching your thighs to abate the need growing between your legs.

“Now, there’s no rush to filmin’ anythin’ right away, okay? We don’t gotta dive head first if you wanna go home and process all of this, I completely understand. But, if you’re interested, I can give you my address and we can—”

“How about you drive me to your place instead?” You coyly interjected with a grin.

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dekariosclan · 8 months

Text

Choices

Tav, remembering the first time they came upon a corrupted portal, and chose to free a wizard from it.

Tav, remembering how the wizard said, “Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” with such warmth and affection, such a sweet smile, that they were powerless to choose anything other than to have him join the party.

Tav, remembering the weeks after, of Gale slowly opening up to them. Of Gale offering approval on Tav’s toughest choices, even when others in the team were critical. Of Gale offering his hand when he was at his most vulnerable, to show Tav the horrors inside of him. Of Gale offering to help Tav conjure the Weave, to show them the beauty inside of him, too.

Tav, remembering the first time Gale confessed his love for them, when he conjured illusions of the night sky; an aurora borealis; a recreation of his home in Waterdeep; and a breathtaking view of Waterdeep itself.

Tav, remembering how Gale then offered a choice: to make love amongst the stars as the Gods do, or to make love in the ‘old ways,’ on a four-poster bed amidst the sound of their own hurried breaths and low murmurs of lust.

Tav, remembering how Gale chose to do all of that for someone whom he’d only just fallen for, and how he’d implied that it was not his best effort, saying: “If things were different, if we were home, I’d have taken the time to do things properly. To say it all better. But time is short.”

That was then.

Now, the Absolute has been defeated, and Tav and Gale are finally able to choose their own fate: Return to Waterdeep? Stay in Baldur’s Gate and rebuild? Go off adventuring? In the end, the choice they make hardly seems to matter—so long as they’re together.

Gale’s orb is either removed by Mystra or quieted by his own contentment. He is eager to become Tav’s husband. He loves Tav more than he’s ever loved anyone, mortal or immortal. He is happier than he has ever been in his entire life.

And now, on their wedding night, Tav remembers his words from their first night together; remembers that now he does have the time to do things properly…and wonders what he will choose to do with that time.

He chooses to be overflowing with joy, to start. Every declaration of love whispered in Tav’s ear ends with ‘don’t you agree, Mister Dekarios?’/‘what do you think, Missus Dekarios?’ or Gale simply lifting Tav’s hand to his lips for a kiss. Reveling in the sight of his ring on Tav’s finger.

As he leads Tav to the bedroom door, there are rose petals scattered on the ground leading up to it. But when Gale ‘My-Grand-Gestures-of-Romance-Can-Never-Be-Grand-Enough’ Dekarios opens the door, it’s not to reveal a bed covered in roses; instead it’s a whole field of roses, with a clear path to the bed in the center. Tav can see the sun setting in the most beautiful sky they have ever seen, casting a romantic peach-hued light over everything. There’s a picnic spread with food and wine and cheese and so many dessert options it puts their wedding catering to shame. There’s a lake that Tav already knows will be the perfect temperature for skinny dipping. And of course, next to the bed—one so luxurious the previous four-poster bed seems forgettable—there’s a pile of books. Many are collections of romantic poetry, but there’s other, more intriguing titles as well. Titles about pleasure and positions and astral lovemaking. It’s so incredible it’s almost too much for Tav to take in.

But most wonderful of all is just Gale standing in front of Tav, his eyes radiating love as he holds their hand. “Well, my dear?” He asks softly. “Where do you want to start?” He waves a hand at the scene in front of them. “Choose,” he encourages them with a smile.

And Tav, in awe of this man, his creativity, his talents and his unmatched heart, fully intends to sample everything he’s done—but the very first thing they choose to do is wrap their arms around him, claim his mouth in a hungry kiss, and pull him to the ground right there. Bed be damned.

Gale’s laughter against Tav’s lips, as he returns their kiss with his own matching fervor, lets Tav know they chose correctly.

On all counts.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep

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puppym3 · 2 months

Text

heartstrings and lullabies chap 2

soft!seungmin x afab!reader

chap 3!

wc: 4.3

warnings: lil awkward again, intimate kissing scenes, "practice kissing", alcohol consumption (not a ton), a lil more angsty, a lot of kissing, seungmin is confused and gets shy, sexual tension, dramatic exits to the bathroom, the chapter ends at a weird place (sry)

a/n: thank you guys for reading! i'm writing chap 3 rn! if you guys want to leave suggestions or other fic ideas in my inbox please do! i'm accepting of everything. chap 3 should be out by the end of thurs or friday!

MINORS DNI!

---

The night after, I found myself creeping to the end of the hall for the first time. The house's silence amplified every sound, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath my feet, the distant hum of the AC, and the quiet sounds of the bugs outside.

I paused in front of the door, adjusting the bottom of my dress and taking a deep breath before raising my hand to knock. Before I could, the door opened slightly, revealing Seungmin's curious eyes.

"Hey," he greeted, his eyes quickly jumping nervously up and down, then stepping back hesitantly to let me in. "I wasn't sure if you'd come."

"Yeah, well, here I am," I replied, a nervous laugh escaping my lips as I crossed the threshold. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a lamp casting gentle shadows across the walls. It was cozy, with bookshelves lining one side and a small desk cluttered with papers and knick-knacks.

Seungmin motioned to a small couch against the far wall. "Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us something to drink."

I sat down, trying to calm the fluttering in my chest. There was something comforting about being in Seungmin's space, surrounded by the things that made up his world. I picked up a book from the coffee table, flipping through its pages absentmindedly until Seungmin returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Is this fine? I apologize, I don’t drink much." He said, setting the glasses down on the table beside me.

I nodded, a smile tugging at my lips. "Why do you have a whole bottle in your room if you don’t drink much?" I teased, the words lightening the air between us.

Seungmin chuckled softly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "It was a gift," he admitted, pouring us each a glass with a practiced hand. "Thought I might drink with a friend someday."

I accepted the glass he offered, the rich scent of red wine filling the air between us. I reluctantly took a sip, humming at the warmth it brought to my throat.

Before I knew it, I had downed half the glass while Seungmin was only two sips in. I definitely emotionally and physically started to relax, my body resting against the couch and my mind calmer than when I walked in.

“Do you usually drink with friends like this?” I ask, tracing his face with my eyes. “This is my first time.” He admits to me, offering me a light smile.

Seungmin's smile softened as he settled on the couch beside me, a comfortable distance away. "First times are always memorable," he mused, swirling the wine in his glass.

I felt a warmth spreading through me that had little to do with the wine. “I suppose they are,” I replied, meeting his gaze briefly before looking down at my glass, suddenly shy. “Glad we shared this first time…” I mumbled, my tongue loosened by the wine.

“Me too. Hopefully, we could share more,” he suggested, his soft eyes fixed on me. My mind wandered to different places, my face flushed from both the wine and the implications of his words.

“Uh huh?” I said suggestively, encouraging his flirty behavior, hoping it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

When he didn’t continue but instead looked at me with daring eyes, I felt a sudden need to continue the conversation. “I’ve never kissed anyone,” I added, my voice trailing off uncertainly. A charged silence filled the space between us, thick with unspoken desires and possibilities.

I sat back, letting the warmth of the wine and Seungmin's presence envelop me. The atmosphere felt charged with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. Seungmin's gaze held mine, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that I couldn’t read.

"I've… never kissed anyone," I repeated, feeling a flutter of vulnerability and curiosity about where this evening might lead. Seungmin's expression softened, his demeanor gentle yet tinged with a quiet intensity.

"Never?" he asked softly, leaning slightly closer. His voice carried a hint of surprise, tempered with a warmth that made my heart race a little faster.

I shook my head, my cheeks flushing despite the alcohol's calming effect. "No, never,"

Seungmin's eyes searched mine, the intensity of his gaze making my pulse quicken. He set his glass down carefully, leaning back slightly but not breaking eye contact.

"That's… surprising," he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. "You're so…"

"So what?" I prompted, my own voice barely above a whisper. The distance between us felt almost tangible, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap.

"Confident," he finished, his eyes flickering with admiration. "It's hard to believe."

I smiled, a small, shy smile that I couldn't quite suppress. "Maybe I'm just good at hiding it," I replied, taking another sip of wine for courage.

Seungmin's had a tender look in his eyes. "You don't have to hide anything with me," he said quietly, his words a gentle promise that wrapped around my heart.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable, filled with the weight of everything we weren't saying. My mind raced with thoughts and possibilities, each one making my heart beat a little faster.

"I wonder what it's like," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "Kissing someone, I mean."

Seungmin's gaze darkened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. He leaned forward just a bit, closing the small distance between us. "It's… different for everyone," he said softly. "But it's…"

He trailed off, his eyes dropping to my lips for a brief moment. The air between us felt charged, every inch of space humming.

"How would you imagine it?" he asked, his voice a whisper that sent shivers down my spine.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. "I… don't know," I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. "I guess… I imagine it being soft, and… and warm. Something that makes you feel… connected."

Seungmin's expression looked gentle, running his hand through his hair as if were nervous. "That sounds… about right," he said softly, his voice barely audible.

Seungmin's hand moved slightly, as if he wanted to reach out but hesitated. "I… don't want to rush anything," he said softly, his eyes locking onto mine. "But if you ever want to… I mean, if you ever want to know what it's like…"

He trailed off, leaving the offer hanging in the air between us, a tantalizing promise of something more. My heart pounded in my chest, the wine and the warmth of his presence making my head spin slightly.

"I think… I think I'd like that," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Seungmin's breath hitched slightly at my words, and I could see a mix of excitement and nervousness flicker across his face. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and took a deep breath.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice steadying. "We can take it slow."

He moved a little closer, his knee brushing against mine. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through me, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest. Seungmin's hand hovered between us for a moment before he gently cupped my cheek, his fingers warm and reassuring.

"Just… close your eyes," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, my breath catching in my throat, and let my eyelids flutter shut. The room seemed to grow quieter, the only sound the soft, rhythmic beating of our hearts. I felt Seungmin's thumb brush gently over my cheek, a tender, grounding touch.

"Okay," he whispered again, and I felt his breath ghosting across my lips.

The first contact was feather-light, a mere brush of his lips against mine. It was soft and tentative, a question rather than a demand. My breath hitched, and I felt a thrill of warmth spread through me, pooling in my chest. Seungmin's lips pressed a little more firmly against mine, the kiss still gentle but filled with burgeoning confidence.

His other hand found its way to my waist, steadying me as he kissed me with a slow, deliberate tenderness. I felt a warmth spreading through my body, a pleasant, tingling sensation that seemed to radiate from our point of contact. I could feel his heartbeat through the closeness, its rhythm steady and comforting.

I responded tentatively, my lips moving against his with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Each movement was slow and exploratory, a gentle dance as we found our rhythm together. Seungmin's hand on my cheek shifted slightly, his fingers threading into my hair, cradling my head with a reassuring touch.

The kiss deepened, becoming a little more assured as we grew comfortable with each other. There was no rush, no urgency—just a gentle exploration of this new and intimate connection. I felt a sense of closeness, a warmth that spread through me, wrapping me in a cocoon of safety and affection.

Seungmin pulled back slightly, just enough to rest his forehead against mine. We were both breathing a little more heavily, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. His eyes fluttered open, and I found myself staring into their warm, brown depths.

I’m a little tipsy but well aware of everything happening around me, because it’s like all of my senses at this time are going to be ingrained in my memory forever. The feeling of his soft lips touching mine, the smell of the alcohol and a slight hint of his shampoo, and the sound of our soft breathing together.

I can feel the burn on my face from the nervousness in my body that arises again when I look into his eyes again. I look at his lips again where he subtly licked his bottom lip as if to taste the chapstick I transferred to him.

“Was that… okay? Or did you need another example?” he asked me, his cheeks a little pink as if he was more nervous to ask that than it was to kiss me.

The word “example” rang in my head as a reminder. Did I just let him kiss me as an example when he really has no feelings for me? But looking at his flushed puppy face again, it didn’t matter to me. When he’s looking so shy suddenly infront of me as if the kiss did something for him too, it threw away all of the rational thoughts I possibly could’ve had.

"It was..." I began softly, my voice betraying a mix of shyness and a growing sense of boldness. "I think... I think I'd like another example."

A flicker of surprise crossed Seungmin's face, quickly replaced by a slow, teasing smile. He leaned in again, his hand gently cradling my cheek as his lips met mine once more. This time, there was a subtle urgency, a mutual understanding that this kiss was no longer just an experiment, it was a shared exploration of desire and connection.

His lips moved against mine with a newfound confidence, his touch gentle yet firm, igniting a spark that sent tingles down my spine. I responded eagerly, my fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as I deepened the kiss, seeking more of the warmth and intimacy that seemed to envelop us both.

Time seemed to blur as we kissed, each moment stretching out deliciously, filled with unspoken promises and a growing sense of closeness. The weight of his body against mine, the soft brush of his fingers against my skin, it all felt surreal yet undeniably real, grounding me in the present moment.

My neck was getting tired from the posture I was in to reciprocate the kiss, so I leaned closer to him, crawling into a more comfortable position on the edge of his lap. His hands sit on my waist and squeeze lightly as if giving me a warning.

I felt his hand move to the small of my back, cupping me firmly as he pulled us closer together. His breath hitched as I shifted my weight, my lips moving against his with renewed intensity. The scent of his shampoo filled my lungs, and I felt my heart racing with every touch.

He pulled me closer still, until our bodies were fully engaged. My hands came up to cup his neck, the muscles beneath his skin firm and toned. As we kissed, there was a softness to his lips, a hint of vulnerability that I found charming and endearing.

But as the kiss deepened, that softness gave way to a hunger that I felt all the way to my core.

Seungmin’s hands tightened slightly on my waist, and just as the kiss seemed to deepen further, he pulled back. His breath was heavy, mirroring my own. He looked dazed for a moment before he gently pulled away, as if he had a switch flipped in his head.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “I… I don’t want to rush anything.”

From the way his expression looked, he looked like the one that was overwhelmed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and it looked like he was short-circuiting, his hair tussled and looked out of breath.

I wonder what I looked like in comparison to him, but before I could think of anything to say in return, he got up and excused himself to the bathroom.

As I watched Seungmin walk away, his shoulders tense and his steps hurried, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of mixed emotions. Part of me wanted to follow him, to reassure him that I wasn’t overwhelmed, that I wanted this as much as he did. But another part of me was grateful for the momentary respite, a chance to gather my thoughts and steady my racing heart.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of feelings swirling inside me. Running a hand through my hair, I felt the slight dampness from the sweat that had formed during our kiss. The room seemed quieter now, the silence amplifying the sound of my own heartbeat.

Emotions stirred not just in my heart but in my body too. My legs were still tingling, a reminder of the electricity that had passed between us. I squeezed them together, trying to ground myself amid the overwhelming sensations.

Seungmin had been gone for what felt like an eternity, though it was probably only a few minutes. I wondered what he was thinking, if he was as confused as I was. The uncertainty gnawed at me, but I pushed it aside, trying not to dwell on the memory of his touch, the way his lips had felt against mine.

When Seungmin finally returned, he looked more composed, though a hint of nervousness lingered in his eyes. He paused in the doorway, his gaze locking onto mine, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the weight of our unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I just… needed a moment.”

I nodded, my heart softening at his vulnerability. “It’s okay,” I replied, my voice equally soft. “I needed a moment too.”

He moved closer, sitting down next to me once again. There was a brief, awkward silence before he spoke again. “I’m sorry, I must have seemed uncertain,” he began, his eyes searching mine as he struggled to find the right words.

“You should go get some sleep,” he continued, his voice barely audible, nervously rubbing his arm. “We should talk tomorrow.”

“But…” I started to protest, my voice catching in my throat. “I’m not drunk, I promise,” I insisted, hoping to reassure him.

Seungmin hesitated, his expression conflicted. "I know," he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. "But it's late, and… I don't want us to do something we might regret."

Regret. The word hung between us, heavy with unspoken implications. I glanced down, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I understand," I replied quietly, though part of me longed for him to ask me to stay, to talk more, to touch more.

Seungmin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You should go," he said reluctantly, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced himself. "We'll… we'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze as I turned towards the door. "Okay," I echoed softly, my voice barely carrying across the room.

Managing a small, fragile smile, I attempted to convey reassurance despite my own swirling emotions. "Goodnight."

Seungmin nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Goodnight," he murmured, and then I was gone, leaving him alone with the echoes of our shared moments and the unanswered questions lingering in the air.

I sat in my room for a long time, the silence heavy around me. The weight of everything that had transpired pressed upon me, and I couldn't help but replay each moment, searching for clarity amidst the emotional turmoil.

Sadness, confusion, happiness, desire—all swirled together, leaving me exhausted yet unable to find rest. I changed into comfortable clothes and slipped beneath the covers, but sleep remained elusive. My mind raced with thoughts of Seungmin, of his touch, his gaze, his words.

Morning found me bleary-eyed and restless. I rolled over, reaching for my phone to check the time. It was early, but I knew sleep wouldn't come easily now.

The events of last night replayed with startling clarity. I wondered what Seungmin was thinking now, if he regretted our kisses, if he worried about his dad finding out. The latter thought brought a pang of anxiety.

Unable to shake him from my mind, I decided to send a message:

Me: Hey, are you awake?

Anxious anticipation filled me as I waited for a response, minutes stretching out like eternity until finally, my phone buzzed with his reply:

Seungmin: Yeah. Why are you up? Everything okay?

Me: I want to talk to you. Can I call?

Seungmin: Call? I’m just a few rooms down.

Me: I don’t think I can talk to you in person right now.

The bubbles on my screen danced as if he was pondering his reply.

Seungmin: Okay. We can call.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I dialed his number. Each ring felt like an eternity until finally, Seungmin's voice, groggy with sleep yet attentive, greeted me.

“Hey, before you speak, can I just say what I want to say?” I asked, needing to express what was in my heart.

"Ok," Seungmin replied softly, his voice quiet yet focused.

Gathering my thoughts, I began, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. "Last night… I want you to know it wasn’t just the wine or a passing moment. I… I wanted to kiss you."

Once I started, the words spilled out, unstoppable. “I liked it, a lot. And I know you said it was just for me to experience a kiss and it was in the moment, but I really liked it.” Pausing, I felt my heart race, urging him to hear me out before responding.

I heard him exhale on the other end of the line, a thoughtful pause lingering before he spoke.

Seungmin's response was measured, his voice carrying a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher over the phone.

"I... appreciate you saying that," he began slowly, his tone thoughtful. "Last night... I didn't mean to lead you on or make you feel confused."

His words sparked a twinge of uncertainty in me. Had I misread his intentions? Was he trying to gently let me down?

"But," he continued, his voice gaining strength, "I only did that because being with you, sharing that moment; it meant something to me too."

Relief washed over me, mingling with a surge of hope. "Really?" I couldn't help but blurt out, my voice tinged with disbelief and excitement.

"Yeah," Seungmin replied softly, the sincerity in his voice calming my nerves. "But... we should talk in person. There are things we need to sort out, especially with my dad and your mom around."

The mention of his father brought back the reality again. It wasn't just about us; there were larger implications to consider.

"I understand," I replied, trying to keep my disappointment in check. "When can we talk?"

"I'll come by your room in a bit," Seungmin said after a brief pause. "I just need to freshen up."

Nerves fluttered in my stomach as I hung up the phone, anticipation and anxiety wrestling within me.

True to his word, Seungmin arrived at my door not long after. His hair was slightly damp, a sign that he had indeed taken a moment to compose himself.

He stood there awkwardly for a moment, as if unsure how to begin. I gestured for him to come in, silently inviting him to sit beside me on the bed.

Seungmin took a seat, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of earnestness and uncertainty.

I could smell the familiar smell of his shampoo, which instantly sent me into flashback mode. My cheeks felt hot and I instinctively covered my face with my sleeves.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before mumbling. "I don't regret it… by the way."

A flicker of relief crossed Seungmin's features, though his expression remained guarded. "Me neither," he admitted quietly. "But, my dad, your mom, what if they really like eachother?"

I felt my throat get dry, I didn’t know how to answer this question myself. “My mom isn’t the type to stay…” I admit to him, hoping he’ll understand me.

“I understand, but it feels wrong.” he says to me, his eyes searching mine as if looking to see if I understood.

“Did kissing me feel wrong?” I said to him straight, looking in his eyes

Seungmin's hesitation was palpable as he considered my question, his gaze shifting slightly before meeting mine again. "No," he replied earnestly, his voice soft but unwavering. "Kissing you didn't feel wrong."

Relief washed over me at his honesty, but a knot of worry tightened in my chest. "Then why does it feel wrong now?" I pressed gently, needing to understand his thoughts.

He looked down for a moment, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "It's not about how I feel about you," he began, his voice low. "It's about everything else... the expectations, the complications with our parents."

I nodded slowly, understanding the weight of his words. "I know," I murmured, my voice tinged with empathy. "But sometimes, we have to listen to what we feel, not just what others might think."

Seungmin looked up, his eyes searching mine as if trying to convey a thousand unspoken thoughts. "I don't want to hurt anyone," he admitted quietly. "I don’t want to hurt you."

"I don't want that either," I assured him softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "But maybe... just for now, we can focus on us. On what we feel."

He exhaled slowly, a conflicted expression crossing his features. "I... I want to," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But..."

Before he could finish, I leaned in, closing the gap between us. His breath hitched slightly as our lips met again, tentatively at first, then with a growing urgency. It was a different kiss this time, filled with questions and uncharted emotions.

Seungmin responded, his hands coming up to my waist to support me, his touch rougher than last night. I melted into the kiss, feeling a surge of warmth and longing that echoed the emotions swirling inside me.

He seemed to give up his reasoning then, hungry for the connection. I let my hands tangle in his hair as I followed him, remembering the way he kissed me last night to guide me through the kiss.

I felt Seungmin gently nip at my lips, the slight sting of his teeth sending a shiver of pleasure through me. His hand slid to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair as he gently tugged, prompting an involuntary sigh to escape my lips.

Seungmin gazed at me with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. "I..." he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't expect..."

“Seungmin…” I whispered out, breathless and dazed. I didn’t want this to end now, like last night when we cut it off leaving me high and dry.

The restraint that was left in him seemed to be cutting down to nothing. I saw as his fist clenched as he stared at my helpless face, the desperation screaming all over me.

"We have to think about this," he breathed, his voice trembling with unsaid emotions, he looked like holding back was incredibly painful for him.

I sighed, feeling a weight settle around my heart. He was right, I knew, but the thought of losing him even if it was just for now was an all-too-real threat. And yet, with every minute that passed, I knew the pull between us grew stronger, the desire and the need for each other intensifying. It was a dangerous game we were playing, one with no clear answers or solutions.

"But..." I began, searching for the words to convey my feelings. "What if it's worth it? What if we can't let go?"

Seungmin's eyes locked with mine, a steady resolve in his gaze. "I want to figure it out, together," he vowed quietly. “I want to find a way to make it work, no matter what it takes."

I nodded, feeling a spark of hope flare within me. "I want that," I said, my voice little more than a whisper. "I want you."

He leaned in for another kiss, this one softer, more vulnerable. "And I want you," he sighed, his voice breaking with emotion. "But we have to be careful, for both of our sakes."

---

#kim seungmin #seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids #skz smut #seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff

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queers-gambit · 2 years

Text

Petitions

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: your family returns to Kings Landing to hear petitions regarding your brother's legitimacy.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!Velaryon!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: (this got away from me at) 11.3k+

note: i tweaked the timeline in the show a bit to match my own timeline. also it's long, but i need time to plan the next part(s). i hope this suffices!

warnings: spoilers, cursing, (poorly written) smut. basically when Aemond's in the training yard and the court scene. potentially too detailed but that's intentionally for the readers who don't watch the show. descriptions of violence, just a bit more background - marking this as fluff? it's pure filler? again, not edited, canon-level incest, dialogue. ❗️major season one, episode eight spoilers

His gaze followed you around your shared room, smirking at your nervous, jerking movements. "You know we've maids for this kind of thing, my love. And you've cleaned three times this night already, I do believe it is as spotless as it will get, sweet girl."

"Okay, well, it's just not right, yet," you rushed, sighing to yourself as you rearranged the pillows on your bed again. "'S just not right, not right, 's gotta be right," you muttered to yourself under your breath.

"Why's that, pet?"

"It's just not, Aemond, please - stop questioning me!"

His hands rose in mock defense from his place in the carved, wooden chair beside the table and before the hearth, watching you for a few more minutes as you moved like a tornado. You picked things up and rearranged them somewhere new. When your busy body moved towards the table he sat at with a pile of books in your hand, he reached out swiftly and wrapped both arms around you - making you briefly panic. He pulled you to his lap, leaving little room for you to wiggle free.

"Aemond - "

"Ease yourself, my sweet wife," he spoke smoothly, loosening his hold to let you turn comfortably on his lap. "The room is absolutely spotless, you need not worry for a thing. And you've been barking at the servants all week to clean the other chambers, I promise, things are where they need to be."

You sighed and leaned over to set the books to the table, picking up his goblet when your hand was free, and leaning your back to his chest. "I do not bark, and you'd stand well not to mock me," you muttered softly, taking a sip of sweet wine.

"I do not mean to," he sighed, nuzzling the skin in front of your ear as you sat somewhat sideways on him. "You are worrying for nought, my sweet love. Please, ease yourself, my busy bee."

"My mother's coming to the Red Keep, Aemond," you refused, head shaking to swirl tresses of silver-white hair. "And it will be the first time in years I've seen her. Please, I only want her to see that we can keep house and feel as if she's raised a proper lady - who knows how to be a wife."

"You do realize it is not our responsibility, sweets, for this is not technically our house," he muttered against your temple, placing a kiss there as you drained his goblet. "It's my mother's house to keep, and she does, so you do not need to worry yourself. Besides, they are not going to stay in our chambers."

"I know," you sighed, finally deflating against his chest. "I just want things in place. I feel in place when things are proper and away."

"They are," he assured softly, letting you lean back into him with a snuggly arm around you. He reached for your goblet and extended his arm to set it to the table's top. "Are you going to meet them?"

"Yes, of course," you assured, reaching up to gently pet his jaw as you pressed your forehead to his neck. "You are to train, are you not?"

He sighed softly, "This morn, pet, yes."

"Will you join us after?" You pouted lightly. "Before we are to hear Lord Vaemond?"

"Perhaps it is not wise for us to visit with your mother before the proceedings," Aemond admitted before he pondered a moment and decided to adjust his answer. "Or at least... It is not wise for me."

"We shall see," you sighed softly, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw as you understood why the meeting would make him uncomfortable. "But you are excused, my love, if that's what you are looking for."

He chuckled, "Hmm, all right. Thank you, my sweet girl. You will find me after, won't you?"

"Oh! Do not tell me it is time to rise already? I have only just sat."

"'Tis time to depart, actually, yes," he mused, leaned in to kiss your lips. You whined lightly, keeping hold of his cheek as your lips adjusted against his; his breathing deepening when his hands tightened their hold on your hips; readjusting your hips so that both legs laid over his lap in a straddle.

"Aemond," you warned half-heartedly when he began to ease you back and forth over his lap, rocking you over his growing bulge.

He sighed, "What if we did not leave this room? Hmm? For the day?"

"We have to, because we are responsible and lead by example," you chuckled lightly, letting your tongue lick over his bottom lip.

"You're not making a valid case, pet," he returned your laughter, tightening his hands so they jolted into your ribs. You lurched forward with laughter, incidentally grinding over on his lap; the both of your breaths catching when he pressed you downward.

"Aemond," you now moaned softly, brows furrowed in concentration as your hands held his jaw and neck for balance. "You know we're needed in the courtyards."

"I think we've a moment or two," he muttered against your lips, breathing the same breath as he lead you back and forth, back and forth, back and forth over his lap. His hips stiffened to raise slightly, fighting back his moan when his cock rode up into your weeping hole. "You vex me, woman," he chuckled breathily, letting his tongue dart out to flex over your neck. "How the Gods have blessed me."

"We will be late, my love," you giggled lightly. "Your mother already blames me for your new late attendance record."

He smirked at you, letting your manicured hand caress his jaw; reveling in the warmth from your fingers, "But you are the reason for our late arrivals, pet. You're irresistible."

"Maybe you're just insatiable."

"Hmm," Aemond considered with a smirk, letting your lips pucker to pepper kisses around his jaw and chin. "Are you trying to distract me, my love? I hate to admit it might be working."

"Perhaps I'd only like to savor another moment with my husband before duty holds our obligations the rest of the day."

He nodded and let his hands fall to the meat of your arse, "Fair point... Should we go back to bed then, my sweet wife?"

"Do not tempt me with a good time," you mocked him, making him laugh and lean forward to peck your lips. "Come," you finally sighed sadly.

"Yeah, all right, c'mon. Mother needs one of her children to be responsible," he agreed, letting you raise off his lap to move around the table so he had room to stand. After taking time to finish getting ready, you both laced on your boots and moved out the door. Like a gentleman, Aemond escorted you to the front landing-courtyard, where you would wait for your mother's envoy; and after a kiss to your lips and a muttered, "I love you," your husband was leaving you there to head for his training session with Ser Criston Cole, Queen's Guard.

In truth, the knight was always polite to you, but you saw his glare when he thought he was concealed. Funny how people think themselves invisible, but in reality, they are glaringly obvious. Your mother had once told you the truth behind the drama she and Cole found themselves in from years ago, and while it wasn't your place to offer judgement, it was obvious now that Cole had never forgiven your mother. Being her daughter, you were the next best thing to take his anger out on. Yet he favored your husband and his obvious skill, so, you were merely endured.

You waited only a few moments before the front gates opened and your mother's carriage was lead into the courtyard, making you perk up; straighten up; hands clasping in front of you as your shoulders straightened. You wanted to show her that she had raised you right and she need not worry - because you were a proper Targaryen lady whilst under the Hightower's heel.

One of the stationed guards called in announcement, "All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne."

"Mother," you sighed to yourself with sweet relief.

"And her royal consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen!"

"Princess," a maid approached you with hurried steps and a flustered face, "you're needed - "

"Not now," you insisted, wanting to see your mother and nothing more. Even a glance - a simple glimpse of her would suffice right now. You had missed her gravely.

"Please, it is Kasta, Princess - she grows restless and aggressive," the servant rushed in worry. You sighed, nodding at her; taking the skirts of your dress in hand. "Thank you, Princess, thank you - you're the only one who can calm her."

"All right," you tisked, turning from the courtyard and following the young maid away just as your mother's carriage had opened, and she stepped out - catching a simple glimpse of your hurried back and recognizing the tense posture. "What is the matter?" You asked the maid, dodging around different personnel.

"She's refusing anything brought to eat," she explained quietly, "and she grows aggressive as time passes. We do not know what to do anymore, I am sorry for bothering you, Princess."

You huffed, "She's just restless I'd wager, I've not taken her out in a spell. Come, she'll want beef more than venison."

The maid nodded, and together, scurried off with you towards the Dragon Pit. She broke off to consult a local farmer, Mr. Drox, who provided livestock for the royal dragons, and when you reached the Pit, all guards were gathered outside in fear.

"Princess!" They breathed in relief.

"She's all right," you assured, spying the maid leading a fully grown steer closer. "Is she below?"

"No, she's refusing to go down," a guard explained, making you nod.

"Come," you gestured the maid forward. Taking the lead rope, you directed the frightened cow inward; soon spying your emerald dragon as she bellowed in distain. Sand and pebbles fell from the ceiling. "Kasta, easy, easy. What is it, my girl?" You spoke in High Valyrian. "Easy, my sweet girl. Hey, hey, hey," you sassed when she growled at you, "what's all that for, hmm? I know you want to go out, my girl, but soon. I promise, you've got to mind your manners til then, sweetness," you had to pause to turn and heave the steer forward until you could latch the lead rope to the post driven into the sand.

Kasta sniffed the air, cocking her head in curiosity when she understood your offering. Her head swung over to look at you, chittering lightly, and you smiled.

"Yeah," you sighed, "that's all and only for you, sweet girl. Kasta, you need to go down, my girl. Hey? If I offer this steer, will you go down? I will be back in the next few days to take you out. Yes? Is that fair?"

She huffed lightly, shaking her neck and head out before huffing two nostrils of smoke.

"Yeah, that's my good girl," you praised, stepping back to a safe distance. Nodding, you gave her the command to set the horned-cow on fire, listening to it wail in pain for only a few moments before dragon fire engulfed it whole - killing it over.

You watched as your terrible beasty tore the cow apart, listening to the crunch of bone and slurping of flesh before there was nothing but a charred mark in the sand where the cow once stood. You nodded in pride, approaching Kasta's shoulder.

"Good girl," you boasted to her brightly, patting her hide. "Was that enough of an offering? Could you go down now? For me?"

She huffed, and you swore, if dragons could talk, she'd be grumbling to herself like a sassy teenager. You praised the great dragon the entire walk down under the Pit, leaving her in the Dragon Caves so she could curl up in her alcove begrudgingly. "Oh, I know. That's my very good and patient girl," you assured, scratching the scales of her head. "I will be back, and we will stretch your wings, my love. Soon, I swear it." She sighed sadly, a light stream of smoke billowing out. "I know, but today is very important... My brother's lineage is in question, and I must be present for the proceedings."

Her head lifted to tilt at you as if in question.

"I know," you assured with a patient hand. "It's been very stressful. I'll come back and tell you all about it, my sweet. How's that sound?"

Kasta let out a long huff and laid her head down, making you grin with acceptance and give her head a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Patting her scales once more, you bid her a safe night before heading out and discovering the guards still gathered. Still trembling. Still scared out of their minds.

"She's all right," you informed the men with a sigh. "She's under the Pit in the Caves and she will not come out without me. She'll have an attitude, but she's doing well. Leave her be for now."

"Yes, Princess - thank you, Princess."

You nodded in response, wiping your hands on a spare cloth as you moved away from the Pit with a deep sigh; navigating through the city. By position in the sky, you wagered you had spent quite a bit of time there, and when you returned to the Keep, there was a commotion in the training yard that caught your attention.

Slowing your gait while you aimlessly wiped your hands still, you saw your husband in the middle of the commotion - but it was Ser Cole that was posing the challenger. You paused at your vantage point in the causeway to watch, not wincing like you used to as Cole took fatal swings because Aemond was truly a gifted warrior. You used to worry, but there was no use now.

Aemond was just too good.

At the end, your husband had flipped his sword in hand to position at Cole's thick, pale neck - signaling the end of the match. This earned a round of applause from the lingering bystanders, and for the Queen's sworn sword to compliment, "Well done, my Prince. You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

As you descended the stairs leading into the yard, you heard Aemond respond, "I don't give a shit about tourneys. My wife is all the prize I need. Nephews," he directed, sword hilt twirling effortlessly in his hand as his eye shifted over to the crowd, "have you come to train?"

But luck served its purpose, and a guard was shouting, "Open the gate!"

You sighed as you reached the crowd, passing a few drooling Ladies of the court to stalk up to your husband. Approaching his flank, you reached for his elbow first; his head snapping over but relaxing when he took in your face.

"My love," he greeted calmly, smirking gently, "I did not think to see you so soon. Did you catch the show?"

"I did," you nodded, smiling up at him. "You did well, my Prince. It was very impressive, indeed." You leaned up a bit to speak in his ear, "But you'll do well not to challenge my brothers like that again, yes?"

He nodded to you, "As you wish, pretty girl. Have you been to see your mother?"

"Not yet," you sighed, "I was called away to the Pit, Kasta was restless and the guards grew fearful."

"Hmm," he nodded once, easing his arm around your waist tightly as the gates had been wrenched open and your Uncle Vaemond's entourage entered into the Red Keep - waving the blue Velaryon banners. You sighed as Aemond took up a shield, his attention turned to the marching procession and unable to fight off his taunting smirk.

"Aemond," you sighed, jabbing his ribs with your elbow.

"What?" He asked innocently, another smirk in place.

"Behave yourself, please," you sighed, seeing Cole readying for a new fight. Leaning in, you held his waist to peck his lips, "Good luck, my Prince."

"Thank you, sweet girl," he whispered, smirking down at you before stealing his own kiss, and pulling away as he readied his sword. "My wins are in your name, of course."

"And your losses?" You teased him as you backed away a few paces, hearing him chuckle.

"I have none, Princess," he assured with a curt nod, which you understood was more of a wink for him. At least, between the two of you, that's what you understood.

Aemond relied on mostly nonverbal communication and after being married for a few years now, you could read him like you did Valyrian.

You sighed to yourself with a small grin as you approached your brothers, greeting, "Oh, who are these handsome lads? Surely not my wee brothers? All but scrawny last I saw them!" They turned swiftly and grinned at you, breathing your name as they both surged forward to latch onto you in greeting. One set of arms around your neck and the other around your waist. You laughed as you hugged them back, "Oh, my sweet boys! How good it is to see you, hold you again. Ah!"

"It is good to see you, too, sister," Jace beamed; you could hear it in his voice. The two pulled back to face you in full, and your hand reached to caress your younger brother's nervous face.

"Yes, I am glad you're here, too," Luke nodded after, glancing at his brother.

"Oh, worry not, my boy," you sighed, your thumb rubbing the skin of his chin, "for we all know you are the rightful heir to Driftmark, but because Lord Corlys does not have an obvious heir right now, this is just protocol. Though, because grandfather already settled this, I'd not worry at all, Lucerys," you reached for his shoulder then, giving it a squeeze. "You are not standing alone, and you know if it would help and come down to it, I will stand for you."

"You will?" he whispered, small tears gathering in his eyes. "I could not ask that of you..."

"I would never let you stand alone, Luke," you smiled. "Or you, Jace, ever. You both will always have me on your side," you nodded at your other brother. "Though people like to whisper, we share the same blood, and to our mother, the Heir to the Throne, and grandsire, current King, you are her true born sons. That is all that matters, my loves," you spoke with reassurance. "Now, might you want to sneak into the kitchens this me? I hear they're making lemon cakes..."

"Oh! Let's go," Jace beamed, nudging his brother into action. Either boy took your hand, and felt your husband's eye on your retreating form. For the following hours, you and your brothers pursued around the Red Keep with lemon cakes, meeting with your cousins, the Ladies Rhaena and Baela; all reminiscing on shared memories and fond moments from your childhood.

They asked how your life was in the Red Keep, and while you assure all four that you were okay, you smiled sadly as you told them that you missed them all dearly. They filled you in on what your mother was up to, how your step father, Daemon, faired; what they were learning, and how life was treating them as of late.

Rhaena still did not yet have a dragon, but you knew it could not be long before she had one to claim.

Baela was doing well, all things considered.

And outside of this legitimacy fiasco, your brothers were well, too.

When the time for the court proceedings drew nearer, Aemond found you in the Godswood with the other four. "Love," he called, stalking towards you stiffly.

"Oh, Aemond," you smiled.

"Though I hate to interrupt, we're needed, love," he nodded at you with meaning, and you understood.

Again, you knew how to read your husband incredibly well.

"Right," you nodded at him, letting his hand take yours as you turned to your brothers and cousins slash step-sisters. "I will see you lot in the throne room, yes?"

"We'll be there," Jace nodded, glancing at Aemond - who only watched you. "Thank you for the hospitality, sister."

"It is always a pleasure to host you, my siblings," you spoke softly, winking at them with a smile before letting Aemond lead you away. When you exited the Godwood with your dress' skirts in hand to save you from tripping, you asked, "I imagine the Queen has summoned us?"

"She wants a word before the court proceedings begin, yes," Aemond nodded, sighing sadly. "How are your brothers, my dear?"

"Good, thank you for asking," you whispered, smiling up at him. "It is good to see them. And my step-sisters are doing well, too."

"That is good news. It is good to see you so happy," he nodded, readjusting his hold on your hand so you stepped closer all the slightly. "Mother will want us to change before court."

"Saw that coming," you teased. "Wanna match?"

"Hm, what color are you thinking, love?"

"Black," you smirked, making him paused before his mother's chambers to chuckle. "You look very handsome in black."

"Deal," he winked, pecking your forehead as he knocked at the door. When it opened, Ser Cole was on the other side, and let you pass through the open doors.

"The Prince Aemond and Princess Y/N, Your Grace," he announced to your step-mother, who paced in front of the fireplace.

"Thank you, Ser Criston," she thanked, dismissing him, and leaving you three alone. "Would you like to sit?" She offered softly, gesturing to the seating before the fire.

Like you always did, you let Aemond take the reins when talking to his mother. "No, thank you, Mother. We are going to change before the trials, after this meeting."

"'Tis not a trial, Aemond, but only accounts we are hearing. Petitions," Alicent Hightower nodded to herself. "Speaking of, my Lady, might I ask which position you intend to take?"

Knowing now was the time, you assured the King's wife, "The same position I plan to always take, Your Grace. That of my husband."

She nodded once, "Good. That is good to hear."

"Though, should I need to, I am prepared to come to my brother's defense," you spoke strongly, feeling Aemond stiffen slightly. "I do not intend for it, but should my Uncle Vaemond want to drawl me into his petition, trying to cite me, again, as absurd evidence, then I am prepared to support the Prince Lucerys' claim."

Alicent offered a solemn smile, "I would expect little else, dear girl. Very well, then..."

"If it's any peace of mind, Your Grace, I do not intend to stray from my husband's side. It is only if I am forced to, that I am prepared to defend my brother. And I only expect my Uncle Vaemond to do such, my mother nor brother would never."

"I understand," Alicent offered a smile. "Thank you for your honesty."

"Of course, Your Grace," you nodded, bowing to her after.

"If question of my wife's loyalties was all, Mother, we're going to take our leave to change before hearing these... Petitions," Aemond spoke with a hardened tick he rarely took with his mother, cocking his head slightly at the end.

"All right, yes, go on," she dismissed, waving you both out as she turned to resume her nervous pacing. You would've asked if she was all right, but decided against it.

"Everything all right, my love?" You asked when the door shut behind you and Aemond - him tugging you towards your rooms. "Hey, hey, hey, hang on a bit, my legs don't move as fast as yours, love!"

He slowed his gait, sighing lightly, "Sorry, sweet girl. Forget how fast I move sometimes."

"Yeah, 's all right, love, but are you all right?" You asked again. "Got a bit lippy with your Mum, didn't you?"

"Well, she does this often enough," he seethed slightly. "Questions your loyalties even after all these years. It's fucking ridiculous."

"She questioned my mother, she'll question me," you sighed, not wanting to stir him up. "I do not wish to say it is okay, but in a strange way, I do understand it."

"Shouldn't have to," he grumbled, arriving at your chamber doors and pushing them open.

"Well, it's our reality," you rebutdtaled as you moved past him to enter your rooms. "Is that truly what plagues you, husband?" You wondered gently after he shut the door, hands to your hips.

"For now," he sighed. "How was your mother?"

"I told you, I haven't been able to see her yet," you admitted. "I was gathered before I could see her to deal with Kasta."

"Yes... What was wrong, again?" He wondered softly, moving to select something more appropriate for your time in court.

"She is annoyed with me," you chuckled, stripping from your dress to favor the new black gown you chose to wear. "She wants to fly but I have not had time as of late."

"Hmm."

"I will take her out soon," you promised your husband as your had your dragon. "There's more on my mind currently."

He nodded, fixing a new tunic and jerkin on over his pale torso. "Things like your brother's standing as Lord of the Tides?"

You huffed before snapping, "He's the rightful heir, I do not know why this is suddenly back in bloody question. I'm sure mother's been overwhelmed with this, and I have not been there to aid her."

"Why would she be stressed?"

"How would you feel if your children's birth was called into question around every fucking corner?" You sent him a hardened look, pausing your ministrations to stare at him with malcontent. Your eyes dared him to argue with you.

"Well... When you look like you, and they look like them... Love," he sighed, pleading for you to see his reason.

"You act as if our familial traits cannot do funny things through bloodlines and time," you snipped, crossing your arms. "The Gods favored me only by allowing me white hair and the paler complexion of my father - and the boys were not so lucky. That does not make them any less Targaryen, Aemond, and I will not have this argument with you again!"

Aemond sighed and wanting to placate your ebbing and waning anger, agreed, "You are right, my love. I'm sorry for pushing."

"It's all right," you sighed, shaking your head as you went back to work, "it's not like I'm stupid or blind. I know we look different, but it does not mean that we do not share the same blood."

"No," he nodded, reaching for you to help lace up your gown. "But for now, they will plead their petitions - "

"Uncle Vaemond is the only one with a fucking petition because Luke is the rightful heir," you corrected.

"Right," he nodded in agreement, patting your waist when he was done lacing you in. "Ready, pet?"

"In a moment, yes," you sighed, reaching for a new, extravagant jewelry set - one Aemond had gifted you on your name day, the first one you shared together after you took his last name as your own.

When you were in your new gown and boots and your jewels attached properly, and your husband was changed into a new tunic, jerkin, and trousers with boots; you laced your hands together, and out the door you went. There was a growing crowd outside the courtroom, and as you drew nearer, the procession was halted to allow you passage first.

Your husband's name was announced first, and then your own; letting the two of you descend into the courtroom together. Behind you, other patrons were allowed entrance after you were a distance inside. You saw your mother and brothers standing there, smiling at her before taking your place at Aemond's side behind his family. You saw your name form on your mother's lips before she was returning your smile, only looking away when Otto Hightower, your step-grandsire and Hand of the King, took his place in front of the Iron Throne.

How wrong it looked to spy a Hightower at the legendary Throne, but you knew he was only exercising his common occupancy of being a placeholder. With the thought in mind, you let your hand press to Aemond's stomach as his hand curled around your waist; turning your attention, obediently, towards the front of the courtroom. Aegon, Helaena, and Alicent stood in front of you both, but neither you nor Aemond seemed to mind; as the second row provided optimal viewing.

Otto's voice boomed over all as he started the proceedings, "Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters." He turned slightly to guide himself to the edge of the Throne's seat. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

"Oh, Gods, here we go," you whispered, your husband smirking and tightening his arm as your great-uncle stepped forward to the attention of the courts.

"Shh," Aemond shushed quietly with a smirk stretching across his lips to assure you he was entirely entertained by the events.

"My Queen," Vaemond greeted Alicent first with a respectful nod of his head. "My Lord Hand," he addressed Otto. "The history of our noble Houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our Houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name..." His voice raised to address the whole of the court, and Aemond's hand curled and pet over your waist in an effort to soothe you. "I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys' closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."

You wanted to protest, but your mother, ever the protective Mama Bear, spoke first with interjection, "As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your House's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition."

Without missing a single beat, Queen Alicent was calling, "You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."

You lifted your chin with a clenched jaw, watching your mother's head turn from Alicent to stare forward again, as Vaemond's smug face turned to stare her down. "What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess, outside of your only daughter?" He sneered, making Aemond's arm constrict to pulled you a step closer so you were nearly standing on top of his feet. This was what he feared, you being pulled in, but you remained silent with a hand pressed flat to your husband's chest. "I could cut our veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it." Your mother nodded, as if making a mental note of the insults he projected - not missing the veiled threat to you. "This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours."

You let out a soft huff when you could see Luke's face full of fear, looking down to your feet for a moment to recenter yourself; Aemond's thumb rubbing with reassurance - something that Daemon, your step father, clocked from his position across the way. Your hand briefly pet down his chest to then rest against his stomach again, an effort to remain close... To remain safe.

Your Uncle Vaemond turned from glowering smugly at your mother and her family, to then face the front of the room again, addressing, "My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition." You missed the way your brothers glared at your husband, who stared back with unnerve, because your own violet eyes glared at your father's uncle. "I place the continuation of the survival of my House and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor... The Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

You sighed through your nose as Otto called, "Thank you, Ser Vaemond." There was a sickly pause as Vaemond nodded, your mother looking like she was visibly trembling; and your brother-by-law looked far too pleased and amused by the proceedings. Aemond kept his usual mask of neutrality, but his arm was heavy around you as your feet shifted your weight. "Princess Rhaenyra," Otto called, "you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."

You smiled softly as your mother stepped up in a gorgeous black gown that had red and gold embroidery around the hemlines; coming to a halt in the middle of the courtroom to be presented. Her hands discreetly caressed the front of her pregnant belly.

"Never have I witnessed a man threaten a Princess so boldly and get away with it," she spat towards Vaemond, "and if you ever speak of my daughter again, I will ensure it be the last time you speak. Now..." She faced the front again. "If I am to grace this farce with some answer," she spat again, as she could not hold back her temper from Otto or Alicent, "I will start by reminding the court," but behind her, the throne room's door opened with a heavy clang, "that nearly 20 years ago, in this very cour - " She cut herself off, turning with shock to spy who had entered the room during an official hearing, but never did anyone imagine the late arriving newcomer.

Two guards opened the doors, and two more entered first, with only one announcing, "King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name," your mother's head snapped over to catch your eyes, both of you sharing a look of utter shock, "King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men." Otto rose from his seat on the Iron Throne slowly, staring with disbelief as your mother's father, your husband's father, your grandsire used a cane to help him hobble into the room. "Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

The entire courtroom bowed in respect as nobody could believe their eyes; having the impression that King Viserys, the Peaceful, was not soon for the world. Yet here he was, dressed in his robes, golden face mask in place to his the injuries his illness has left, and with a decades-old, ancestral crown sat on his balding head, limping into the throne room. Yes, he limped severely, and yes, he required a cane, but by the Gods, this was something akin to a miracle.

You felt tears of pride swelling in your eyes, knowing the babe you grew in your womb would wreck havoc on your emotions, and in an effort to not give anyone reason to question your tears, willed them away. But it was a powerful moment to watch your grandsire, and technically, father-by-law, show the court that he is not yet done with this world, and what an entrance to make.

You knew that with Viserys present, there was no real need for Rhaenyra to give her petition. However, your eyes clocked the way Vaemond looked from the Queen to the Hand with distraught, disbelieving confusion. Your eyes cut over and met that of your step-father, your single brow perking in conversation; and he subtly gave a nod of his head before turning back to watching Viserys.

But it was obvious both you and Daemon had noticed the same motions and figured it meant Vaemond had struck some deal with the Hightowers prior to the current court hearing.

How interesting, indeed.

With worry, you asked quietly to Aemond, "Should one of us help him?"

"No, sweet girl, 's all right," he assured in your ear. "Father's a proud man," he let his forehead rest against your temple; finding your kindness a breath of fresh air in the otherwise tangibly tense room.

Aemond eventually took both of your hands in your own as if to keep you anchored at his side, but your body had turned to watch the King; and as his sunken, dried, deadened eye turned, your grandsire caught sight of your encouraging smile amongst a sea of envious Green - who all provided unsure looks of shock.

A few steps later, and he saw the relieved look on his beloved daughter's face - and Viserys knew, he made the right choice in coming today.

When he leveled with Otto, the King breathed through a wheeze, "I will sit the Throne today."

You had to hold your breath to resist the scream of laughter and excitement you wanted to give. What a moment - what a fucking moment to bear witness to. And by the small smirk on your husband's lips when his gaze darted down to meet your eyes, he was feeling something akin to pride. Aemond let loose a small snort of air out of amusement, patting your hip before gripping it once more.

"Your Grace," Otto agreed, stepping away as the King tried to make it up the stairs by himself and his cane.

The whole hall echoed the the thumps of his cane and groans, moans, and grunts of determination - as well as unfiltered pain. When his guards tried to help, King Viserys refused help, and only made it a few shuffles on his feet before the crown on his thinning head clattered to the stone floor.

But tears sprung to your eyes involuntarily when Daemon stepped up beside his brother and picked up his ancestral, golden crown.

Viserys, again, tried to refuse aid, but when he saw his brother's patient face and heard his whispered encouragement, the King allowed his brother to help him. Such a moment you were feeling privileged to witness, because what a moment it was - to see Daemon, the once scorned, reckless Prince of the City, who had been disinherited as Viserys' heir in favor of your mother, Rhaenyra, helping his weakened, sickly brother up to take his seat on the Iron Throne. He then placed the golden crown to his head, taking a moment to absorb his brother's very being, and then turn to head off the Throne's pedestal.

Daemon returned to your mother's side on the court's floor; both taking their posts around their children as your hand slid into Aemond's to hold in a vice. Viserys readjusted in his seat as your husband didn't care for your positioning, pulling you closer by your waist and settling there.

Through panting breath, Viserys called to the court, "I must... Admit... My confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. Only one present... Who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys' wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."

All eyes, including yours, turned to look at your grandmother - who stood with her ward, Rhaena, who was Daemon and your aunt, Laena Velyaron's, daughter. Baela, their other daughter, had chose to remain, it seems, with her father and step-mother.

Princess Rhaenys is married to Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, where the two shared two children - you aunt Laena, and your father, Laenor; both of whom were deceased. Now, with Lord Coryls' severe wounds, it seems only his wife can provide proper insight to what his wishes are following his death.

Gods forbid it came to that...

Inclining her head, your grandmother, who was years ago passed over to succeed the Iron Throne in favor of your grandsire, Viserys, agreed, "Indeed, Your Grace." With a solemn look to her brother-by-law, Vaemond, she moved for the center of the court. When she came to a halt, she kept her voice even and diplomatic, "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor, to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him." You noticed her words drew the attention of the Greens, remaining silent. "As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena." You noted the looks your brothers offered your mother, smirking gently. "A proposal to which I heartily agree."

Your stepmother shook her head in displeasure, and you realized, while Vaemond had sought the Queen and Hand's council, your mother had alined herself with Princess Rhaenys - and it was checkmate.

Your mother had the upper hand, and now with the Princess' words, you knew she had solidified her son's position. Well played, Mother...

"Well... The matter is settled," Viserys decided. "Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon," heads turned to look at the boy, "as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."

Hearing Viserys wheeze in punctuation, Rhaenys turned from her place, sending a small smirk to Rhaenyra, and moved back towards her granddaughter, your cousin and step-sister, Rhaena.

But the matter was far from settled.

"You break law..." Vaemond seethed, stepping up to the King's attention, "and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... Who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon... No... I will not allow it," he hissed in anger.

"'Allow it'?" Viserys repeated. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

You flinched gently when Vaemond turned to point an accusatory finger at your younger brother, "THAT is no true Velaryon," he turned back to the King, "and certainly no nephew of mine."

"Go to your chambers," you mother demanded of your brothers. To Vaemond, she directed, "You have said enough."

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson," Viserys reiterated. "And you... Are no more than the second son of Driftmark."

"You... May run your House as you see fit... But you will not decide the future of mine. My House survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides!" He growled. His head whipped around to glare at Rhaenyra. "And Gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this - " He took a breath to finish his sentence but pursed his lips, reminding him that he was in the presence of the King. He held his tongue.

Across the way, you saw your step-father challenge under his breath, "Say it."

Your spine straightened as Aemond's hand rubbed deftly up and down in assurance, everyone waiting for Vaemond's next words. Even Viserys cocked his head as he waited with a pant to his lungs.

"Her children," Vaemond started quietly - but all still heard him, "are BASTARDS!"

"Hey, hey," Aemond whispered, both arms around you when you shifted in place - wanting to throw some punches, but your husband restrained you.

Anger shifted around your family, both boys doing little to hide their disrespect; you doing little to hide your acute anger. Daemon caught your eye and you saw him raise a silent finger, sighing, and relaxing into Aemond's chest. He even breathed a sigh of relief when you did, pressing a quick peck to your temple as if to thank you for backing down - saving him from a fight.

"And she..." Vaemond turned forward to tell the King, "Is... A whore."

The crowd gasped, Aemond smirked, and his arms tightened around you - despite your frozen shock. Truth of the matter was that both Laenor and Daemon had taken time to train you themselves on Dragonstone with a sword, so, you felt as if your odds at taking on the older Velaryon were better than most.

But your attention turned towards the King as he hobbled from his Throne with a hefty glare. "I..." He breathed, yanking his dagger free from his belt, but your eyes watched Daemon as he moved stoically, almost invisible to the court as they were all waiting for Viserys' judgement; the King panting, "Will have your tongue for that!"

Before you could yell not to, your step-father had unsheathed his sword and expertly cleaved Dark Sister to slice clean through Vaemond's head. You flinched some and Aemond turned his body to turn you away from the sight, blood splattering across the floor. Helaena and Alicent turned away, too, Aemond seemingly unable to look away, as Aegon only turned his head to the side with disgust.

When the dead body hit the floor with a squelch, you could see that Daemon had sliced clean through the man's skull - and only his jaw and tongue were attached - the latter flopping to the side uselessly. Standing above the body, Daemon glared down at him with Dark Sister planted to the ground, his hands folded over the hilt.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon leered.

"DISARM HIM!" Otto snapped back into his senses from shock, hollering to the King's Guard; making a chorus of unsheathing swords sing.

"No need," Daemon brushed off casually, catching your eye to drop a quick, reassuring wink as he lifted his blade to wipe it clean while he moved back for his wife's side - ever the protective husband.

But you seemingly heard him first, and caught sight of Viserys' strength failing him, "Alicent - the King," you rushed to tell her.

Her head snapped around as Viserys collapsed, moaning in discomfort. "Call the Maesters!" She cried, a hand briefly squeezing your forearm in thanks before rushing up the stairs to catch her husband's failing figure.

"Father?" Rhaenyra stepped up, and while you wanted to rush for her, the King was the most pressing matter, and you paused at Aemond's side. Though the King never truly showed his sons love, you knew in some twisted way that he did; and so did Aemond in that moment, for his face showed concern while you felt his body tense.

You turned to press into his side, under his tight arm, and with your hand flat to his chest, muttered, "'S all right, love. He's got help."

He nodded mutely at you, trying to relax as a guard took Viserys under his arm - the Maester racing to the scene, and together, they helped the groaning King down from his Throne. You pet over your husband's chest as the King was escorted away, leaving Queen Alicent before the Throne, and Rhaenyra at the base of the pedestal.

How odd to see... Alicent standing above Rhaenyra. Green above Black. Hightower above the mighty Dragon.

The turn of the tide was soon to crash over the House of the Dragon, and from the image before you, you worried the Hightowers would topple the structure of your beloved family. Aemond sighed heavily, his head tilted towards your ear. "C'mon, my love. Please."

You sighed and let his hand tangle with yours, waiting for dismissal - but after the King leaves, there is little need to linger. You could not yet speak to your mother, step-father, brothers, or cousins, but you managed to catch your mother's eyes - nodding once, to which she returned the motion, and then Aemond was striding out of the hall with you in tow. His siblings might've followed, you're unsure, because your feet had to jog to catch up with your husband's elongated strides.

When you got to your chambers, he ushered you inside and shut the door before locking it. "Aemond?" You asked in a breath.

"What was that?" He asked, starting to pace the length of your room. "What the bloody hell was that? Huh!?"

"Aemond, calm yourself a moment to explain to me what you're on about."

"That!" He roared, hand held up in gesture.

"Sadly, that was just Daemon being Daemon. He's rash, my love, and has always operated by his own want, merit, and doing. He cares very little for political politeness. Even when he was heir after Viserys, before my mother, he was ruthless. He's calmed down considerably, but he is still brash. Do not let Daemon startle you - "

"I am not startled."

"Then what is this?" You asked, sighing with a gesture towards him.

"It is strange, is it not? That he can behave in such a manner?"

"He's the King's brother," you shrugged a bit.

"I am the King's son," he snapped, "and yet when his grandsons attack me, he favored them over me. Even after I was disfigured! What am I doing wrong? Hey? His brother is allowed to openly murder a man, yet I lose an eye without consequence, and for what?"

"Vaemond Velaryon offered deep, troubling, public insult to the crown heir of this kingdom," you snapped. "Nevermind he also seemed to have threatened your wife, my dear husband! Mind your fucking manners for that is still my mother and our future Queen you speak of. Vaemond decided to raise ill word to her, insulting her seed, insulting the King's seed, threatening to make me bleed, and Daemon does not handle disrespect well." You were enraged, but your heart also shattered in your chest for your husband. You stepped up so you could take his hands in your own, "But I am so sorry for what happened years ago, Aemond, I truly am, my sweet love." His hands tore from yours in favor of squeezing your waist closer to him. "It is not fair and justice was never served for your injuries, but I implore you to see that this jealousy will not get you anywhere. You forget, my young brother is heir after my mother, and my brother after is heir to Driftmark. But I, my sweet, am heir to Dragonstone. When the time is right, you and I can be away from this political foolishness and have our own homestead to rule over. You will not always endure being a second son, because you will be Lord of Dragonstone. Hmm? We will not always have reason to play by everyone else's rules."

He sighed, chuckling lightly after, "Aye, you know how to soothe me, don't you?"

"I'd be a pretty terrible wife if I did not," you teased softly. "Vaemond made a mistake, my love, and while I will not justify Daemon, I cannot say I am surprised. He is not named the Rogue Prince for nought. But I do know there will be no consequences to his actions."

"And how fair does that seem, wife?"

"It is not, husband," you sighed, "but there is little to be done."

"Like there was little to be done when I lost my eye?"

You frowned, caressing his cheek softly before reaching for both his eye patch and hair clip; releasing his silver locks first. His eye closed and his head bowed some to then let you lift the leather patch from his face. "Would you look at me? Please?" You asked softly, caressing his cheek again to let your thumb run over the under side of his scar softly. When his violet eye met your amethyst orbs, he shuddered a small breath. "The loss of your eye is truly unfortunate, and I cannot extend my deepest sympathies for it. But it does not take away from you," you let your eyes rake over the injury, the sapphire he liked to put in his bare socket almost winking at you in the torchlight. "I find you incredibly beautiful, my sweet husband." Your eyes moved to his, "And nothing is going to change my love for you. Eye or no eye... So long as your love remains mine, I do not wish for anything else. You are all I need in a husband, in a partner," his hands tightened to a bruising strength, pressing you against his front - and growing bulge, "and I love you exactly the way you are."

Aemond, a man of little words, surged forward to lock your lips in a searing kiss; earning a high-pitched whine from you. His arms locked around you, your hands gripping his neck as if he was the only thing keeping you upright. Aemond felt emotion swell in his chest and started to back you up towards the bed; leaning you down to sit on the bed, hands locked in your hair.

He smirked when your teeth pulled over his bottom lip, letting it snap back into place. "Lay back," he ordered quietly, aiding you by means of guiding your legs up to help you push back on the bed. His smirk didn't falter as he unlaced your boots and then pulled them off, caressing your bare feet after pulling your stockings off. His hands then moved up your calves, pushing the skirts of your dress up as he went. With your feet planted, he pushed your knees apart and let your skirts fall up your hips.

He let his gaze rake over you, his nose exhaling a deep sigh.

Your head cocked slightly, asking as you reached for him, "What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing," he assured swiftly, pausing to start unlacing his leather jerkin. "Just appreciating the view of my stunning wife."

You pulled yourself up onto your elbows, smiling at him, "You know this view well, do you not?"

"I will not tire of it," he nodded, finally ridding his upper half naked, much to your appreciation. "I do swear you get more beautiful as time passes. How blessed I am."

Sliding yourself to sit up, you let your hair tumble around one shoulder as you watched him. When he moved towards you again, you held a hand in pause to him, making him halt in wonder as you explained, "The pants, too, my Lord."

He smirked, "You do not wish to dispose of them yourself?"

"I want to watch you," your voice lowered, standing from the bed only to pull all your under clothes off from underneath your skirts. Dropping them at his feet, you looked him up and down as prey did predator before moving for the spare table. Pouring yourself a goblet of wine, you moved back for the bed to sit, cross your bare legs, and take a hefty sip as your brows perked. With your eyes watching your husband, you prompted, "Well? Do you mean to disobey your wife? I did not think I'd have to ask twice."

His fingers slowly, tauntingly, yanked at the leather strings of his trousers; never once breaking eye contact with you as you took another gulp. In the effort to finish your cup before he was done, you took another drawl as Aemond yanked the hips of his britches open; then shucking them from his hips.

Your head cocked with a tease, swallowing another mouthful of sweet wine as he tugged the leather trousers down his muscular thighs, and then finally, down around his calves.

"Keep going," you whispered, his hands pulling his boots free, tossing them to the side; and then finishing by freeing his legs, tossing his leather pants away. They landed near his boots, but still, his eye did not break free from yours. You finished your wine.

Slowly, your tongue licked between the seam of your lips, tasting the sweet Dornish wine Aemond preferred. You hummed lightly, smirking at your husband, making him prompt, "And now, my Princess?" He took confident steps forward, making your legs uncross to spread and welcome him. "What would you have of me, wife?"

"On your knees," you whispered when his face hovered over yours. He took the goblet from your hands and let it clatter to the floor.

"Hmm. On your back first, love," he purred in response, making you smile when his hands swiftly bunched your skirts up to your waist, lowering himself as he went until he was perfectly level with your bare cunt. He breathed across your lower wetted lips, taking a tasting lick. He hummed, "Just as I thought you could not be more perfect. Gods, you taste delectable, my sweet girl."

Before you could speak his name in reprimand, he opened his mouth, and dove tongue first into your weeping heat. All that fell from your lips were breathless moans and his name chanted like a prayer; legs spreading wider to accommodate his broad shoulders while your head tipped back in pleasure.

With desperate fingers, you pulled at your dress to free your arms and wrangle from the garment; his hand instantly shooting up your body to palm your breast with near relief, kneading it with fervor. His mouth engulfed the whole of your cunt, moving both tongue and jaw to lap at the juices you secreted from arousal.

He hummed against your clit, tongue messily wagging back and forth; hand tight on your tit, the other holding your hip in place. "Aemond," you begged shrilly, without breath; mind lost to his ministrations. Your hand tightened in his free flowing locks. "Wait, wait, wait," you panted, over come by the feeling he provided you. But he bore down, keeping you in place, and the hand that had once twisted your nipple dropped to sweep against your weeping hole.

With a wanton cry from you, his fingers pushed in, and the combined pressure of his fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly with his lips sucking on your puckered clit sent you to heaven.

A warm flushed your body, and your blood began to sing as you were overwhelmed with the adrenaline rush - gasping for Aemond, hands fisting his hair, and keeping him close to your cunt; resulting in you releasing over his mouth, chin, and fingers.

"Ah, that's it," he praised, not relenting his finger's motions to only glance up at you, "keep going, my sweet girl, that's it. Good girl, yes," he gazed back at your cunt, speeding his fingers up when your back arched, and a moment later, a second wave crashed and Aemond was laughing as you squirted over him - again.

"Ae-Aemond," you pleaded brokenly, nearly wriggling with pleasure.

"One more, one more, one more," he grunted, one arm now holding your hips down as the other rapidly spurred into you to prod at that spongy-good spot within your walls. His drool dripped onto your puffy clit before he descended to suck his lips over you. "Yes, yes, yes, good girl, that's it, fucking soak me, go on, yes, that's my girl, one more, one more," he praised in a chant, holding you down as your hips bucked and for a final time, spewed over your husband's chin and chest.

"Oh, my Gods," you panted, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes involuntarily; chest heaving as your legs felt limp, yet simultaneously alight with a buzz. "N-No more, please. Gods..."

"Yeah? You all right, precious girl?" He chuckled, crawling up your body. He paused for a moment to finally yank your dress off you; raising your hips to help him before crashing back to the bed.

"Yeah," you panted still. "Gods, where did that come from, hey?"

"You're surprised?" he chuckled, laying beside you a moment; letting his head dip down to kiss your neck.

"No," you admitted, chuckling a bit. "Just not used to it, yet."

"Your body sings for me, pet," he whispered, letting his tongue rake up sweaty skin. After biting at your throat gently, he wondered, "Got another in you?"

"Anything for you, my Prince," you whispered, petting his cheek to raise his lips to yours. He groaned when your teeth bit his lip, making him press harder into you; bare, throbbing cock pressing into your hip. "Aemond," you begged, reaching for his twitching member; hearing his breath sharpen and stagger.

"On your stomach, sweetheart," he smirked, petting down your waist. When you felt his hand purposefully skate across your lower stomach, you worried he felt the change in your body.

"Maybe not," you pouted some.

"What's wrong?" He asked instantly.

Your hand laid over his, curling around it to hold. "Well, I'm soon to start my cycle and I believe the fish the other night wasn't good. I just feel bloated, not myself."

He hummed, "Do you feel unwell?"

"No."

"Then it is of no concern to me because you know you're perfect in my eyes," he chuckled a bit, leaning in to kiss you fully. "Let me fuck you, pretty girl."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever my Lord husband wants," you playfully rolled your eyes at him, easing from under his body to plant your feet on the ground but lay your stomach on the bed, giving your hips a quick wiggle. "Hmm?"

"Good girl," he growled, wasting no time in leaping off the bed after you; planting his feet between yours, and after giving a single sweep of his cock up your slick, he pushed his hips forward until fully sheathed inside you. The both of you moaned, and while you thought your husband often insatiable, you would not get used to his size nor girth; often craving it.

You panted beneath him, feeling his hands move from your hips to waist to your back and then your hair and to your shoulders then to waist, again. All the while, as if energized by something you could not see, his hips hammered into the back of yours; making your hands fist your sheets in tune to his low, growling grunts.

You begged his name as if for relief, but it fell on deaf ears.

Aemond was chasing his orgasm now (that had built all day), letting his fingers find your clit to rapidly toy with it; feeling your knees buckle into the side of the mattress. You let your face screw up slightly as your orgasm was damn-near blinding, nearly collapsing into the bed as Aemond's hands seized your hips to hump all the hard, all the faster.

"FUCK!" You shouted from a twinge of pain, feeling him stretching you - prodding into spots deep within your walls, and feeling your pleasure mount to new heights. Your hands once held the sheets now shot back to grab at his forearms, trying to alleviate the pressure you felt, but he did not falter - nor slow - his hammering hips.

"That's it, I know you can fucking take it, like a good fucking girl," Aemond snarled, one hand holding your hips as the other reached out to wrap in your hair and yank back. Your back bowed and your chest rose; a guttural moan ripping from your throat with near pain from the pull to your scalp. But when you were close enough, his arm helped adjust you; one hand in your hair as the other wrapped around your chest. His hips did not falter in their movements, that now pounded into you upwards. "That's my girl," his lips spoke in your ear, wetting the shell of it before giving a scrape of his teeth. "Always so fucking good for me, so wet and willing. Just sucking me in, Seven fucking Hells."

"Aemond," you whimpered now, almost delirious as one of your hands drifted down your body to finger your clit while the other helped you keep your position.

"Get there, my love," he encouraged, licking at your neck. "C'mon, pretty girl. Get there, I feel you squeezing me - lemme fucking feel you gush all over me."

It did not take long, and within a few strokes, you were tumbling over the cliffside; Aemond following only a few moments after to paint your inner walls with his hot ropes of cum. You both let yourselves fall forward to the bed, and your husband did his best to hold his balance off of you. But his chest rose and fell with trepidation, making you reach back to pet over his cheek.

His hair was damp from sweat, your own no real different.

Aemond heaved for breath as he pulled his softening cock from your cunt, shoving himself up the bed before reaching for you, and yanking you up by grabbing under your arms. You whined, naturally, but settled when he had laid you against his chest; pausing only to readjust comfortably against him, one leg hitching over his hips. "Please tell me we are done for the day?" You sighed against his flushed chest, manicured nail tracing patterns over his breast. "We're not needed elsewhere, right?"

"I believe we're done for the day, yes, my love," he sighed softly, kissing your forehead.

"Hmm," you nodded, playfully nipping at his pebbled nipple.

"Hey, now. Do not tempt me, I will take you again right now."

You grinned up at him when his arm tightened. But before you could say anything, there was a (dreaded) knock at your door. "Prince Aemond?" A servant called through the wood, making your head fall to his chest with a defeated sigh.

Your husband huffed and grumbled a curse while sitting up to yank a blanket from the bottom of your bed; swiftly covering both of your lower halves with your chest pressed to his side for protection.

"Come in," he lazily demanded, laying back to the headboard with an arm behind his head, and looking to the opening door. His other hand lazily drug calloused fingertips over the plain of your bare back, sending a legion of goose flesh over your flesh and for a shiver to shoot down your spine. "What is it?" He asked stoically of the servant.

"M-My Prince, Princess," the servant nervously stuttered, bowing with respect, "my apologies for the intrusion, but the Hand has called for a dinner later in the evening."

"I'm sorry?" Aemond snipped, making your hand thump against his chest in silent reprimand. He adjusted his tone when he asked, "What's that to mean?"

"The K-King, my Prince, has called for a dinner. The Hand is tasked with delivering the message and ensuring the royal family attends."

You sighed and whispered, "'S fine, love. Dinner sounds nice."

Aemond nodded, waving the servant out, "There a time?"

"Sundown, my Prince."

"That will be all," he dismissed with finality.

"Thank you!" You called, hearing the door shut right after. You chuckled, "You could stand to be a bit nicer, you know. It will not kill you, my love, I promise."

"They're lucky they knocked when they did. Should they have arrived minutes prior, I might've had to knock around a skull or two," he grumbled.

You chuckled slightly, "Perhaps you'd fancy a trip to the training yard, my love? Work out your frustrations with a sword?"

"Usually you offer yourself," he teased.

"I need to be able to walk if we are to have dinner with the King tonight," you covered, leaning up to peck his lips. "But I can feel your tension, just thought you'd want to hack your sword into something."

"Have another uncle I could dice up?" He teased.

"Oh, you're so bloody funny, ha-ha," you teased, feeling his lips spread in a grin across your forehead. With a sigh, you let yourself relish in the few moments more you had with your husband - before he would rise, dress, and depart, and you'd be left alone to figure out what the hell to wear that evening. You've already worn most of your dresses that concealed your swelling-belly, wondering what else was left in your wardrobe to use.

After another few moments to stretch in bed, you called for your handmaiden, Amira, and rose to tie a dressing robe over your bare figure. While you waited for her arrival, you chose proper undergarments and in an effort to save yourself embarrassment, dressed quickly before retying your robe - where moments later, Amira knocked, and began the process that would ensure you wore the perfect gown for dinner.

Something proper that would not give away the shape of your belly, and therefore, uncover your secret.

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut

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katuschka · 5 months

Text

Scene One – Lampshade

Jake Kiszka x f!Reader (1st person narrative)

2.541 words

On my bedside table, I have a beautiful art deco lamp. When my lover leaves, he ties a scarf he wore for days on top. And when he’s gone I let my window open just a bit, the gentle breeze sets the scarf on motion, just like the waves in the tempestuous ocean. Once or twice, I swear, I could smell him in my dreams.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings: longing, alcohol consumption, penetrative sex, phone sex and masturbation, sex toys, phantasmagorical dream visions

Taglist

It’s been almost three weeks since I last saw him. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s not that bad, but the truth is that I always start missing him the moment he leaves. It’s a bittersweet feeling. I’m a grown, independent woman, engaging in my daily routines...or breaking them, just to stay sane.

But, it feels as if a part of my soul got attached to him. It travels with him wherever he goes and I feel it tugging at my insides every now and then. At first I thought it was just a side effect of the early stages of falling in love. I believed that it would get easier with time, but it never did. If anything, it only got worse.

It’s bearable during the day. My mind’s too preoccupied with my job, thank god. It’s not really much different from when he’s here. I still have my work to do and he’s busy too, until we finally meet at home to share a glass of wine or two. And then we fuck.

That’s why early evenings are the worst when he’s away. The house is just too big, too quiet, and my mind too restless. No sound of the strings being plucked greets me when I get home, no smell of savory dishes waiting for me in the oven or on the stove. I’m too lazy to do it myself, so I just order in, only to be reproached by him later that I’m not taking proper care of myself. My lover does all these things. My body’s spoiled with constant hugs and my cheeks peppered with warm kisses. So, on days like these, this is what his lady misses.

He knows that, so he tries to call anytime he can. It’s easier in between shows. He makes sure to call me around eight, even when it’s already 3 am where he’s at. Him being a night owl, this has never been a problem. Sometimes it’s just a quick hello to make sure I’m ok. Other times we talk for hours.

I didn’t expect anything like that today. He might call late or not at all. Probably not at all because today’s show was too important. He wanted me there, but I couldn’t go this time. I had an important project to finish and came home pleasantly exhausted. In a perfect world, we would celebrate our respective achievements together, but this world is not perfect, so I have to content myself with the fact that he is.

Well, not really, but I wouldn’t change a thing about him.

So, I just poured myself a glass of wine, climbed in bed early and tried to read, only to find myself checking the Instagram updates constantly. I don’t do it very often, because I’m not really keen on seeing hundreds of women swooning over him, but someone might be streaming the show, and I just couldn’t miss it.

Before he left, he fastened his scarf on my lampshade. That little piece of fabric is basically marinated in his scent – his strong, yet religiously comforting cologne mixed with the warm smell of him. I made sure to leave both the bedroom door and the window open, to create a slight draft. After three weeks, the scent had already faded a bit, but I still could get whiffs of him while falling asleep. Just like today. The livestream I found ended mid-show, but I wasn’t really paying attention anymore. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy long before the concert ended and without even bothering to turn off the light, I fell asleep with my phone still in my hand.

Except I couldn’t sleep. The thunderstorm in the distance and the billowing wind kept me awake. The sky was clear when I went to bed, so I couldn’t understand where the clouds came from. It didn’t matter anyway.

He was here. In my bed, sleeping. The intoxicating scent of clove and incense mixed with his musk wrapped around me like a second comfort blanket. The bedside lamp illuminated his disheveled hair and the clothes he had carelessly thrown over the armchair next to the bed. He was naked and all of the sudden, so was I.

It was our bedroom…and it wasn’t. The southern wall was gone, exposing us to the elements outside. Our garden turned to a stony shore, with the waves of a rough sea crashing upon it. Somewhere in the distance, I could see the storm raging.

I was feeling snug under the blanket, the warmth he elicited sheltering me from everything else around. I reached out to touch him. His skin was warm and dry and I snuggled closer to him from behind, inhaling the comforting aroma of his relaxed, sleeping body.

He never slept much. Sometimes I wondered how he could function after yet another sleepless night, and the dark circles under his eyes often worried me. But when he did fall asleep, he looked like a baby boy, his full lips slightly parted and his brows turned upwards. A man of paradoxes. He would fuck my brains out just moments after he spoon-fed me pistachio ice-cream. My doe-eyed barbarian. A romantic adventure, but a reptile too. Always offering something new. Just like the sky outside, with the full moon now illuminating the stormy sky. Where did it come from? It was hanging there in mid-air in front of the clouds, so big, so close it seemed that I could reach it with my fingers if I just stepped outside of the room.

But I didn’t want to. Instead, I slowly swirled around him like a serpent. I could feel him stir, his body responding to mine. It was a silent dialogue. He turned to me and pushed my chin upwards to nuzzle the soft skin behind my left earlobe. I could hear him murmur a prayer, the words of which I didn’t recognize, but I understood it anyway. I could feel his hand travel slowly down my belly, pulling my thighs apart, his palm sliding gently to my pussy and his middle finger slipping in between my folds. It’s been too long… My body reacted immediately. I arched my back and gasped for air as his moistened fingertip glided over my clit in slow circles. He kissed my shoulder and I could feel his parted lips stretch in a smile before he nibbled lightly on my skin covered with goosebumps.

He spread my thighs even more, like the petals of a blooming flower. I felt the weight of his body on mine as he shifted, obscuring my view, silencing the wind, his porcelain face dimming all the celestial lights behind him. He was coming home.

I cried out when he entered me, grabbing pillows on both sides of my head. He, too, yelped like a puppy, laying his head on my bosom just for a while, to gain his composure. I felt every exhale of his quickened breath on my skin, and enveloped his body with my limbs in a false promise to never let go.

He started moving inside me and I felt absolutely lightheaded, as if we were floating in an empty void. It got darker with each deep, long thrust until time and space around us disappeared and the only thing that tethered me to reality was the rhythm of his beating heart and the alluring sounds of his raspy moans. We moved together languidly, drunk in love, and the waves of pleasure running through my body intensified with each passing second. My fingernails dug into his skin…so deep until he suddenly stiffened and screamed in pain right next to left ear…

…nooo…at first I couldn’t tell where I was or who I was until the sound of my phone ringing on the pillow next to my head slowly brought me back to reality. I couldn’t believe it. What? Why? I looked at the screen and saw the name of the only person whom I could forgive for calling me right fucking now!

“Jake? Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I breathed out.

A moment of silence before the man on the other side responded. I must have sounded pre-t-t-y irritated. “Babe? Did I wake you up?”

Of course you did. What day is it? Oh yeah, it was slowly coming back to me. Madison Square Garden… “What time is it?” I breathed out.

“Almost one am here, your midnight. We just arrived at the hotel a moment ago, I haven’t even had a shower yet, I just had to hear…”

“Urgh,” I interrupted him with a groan, not in a reaction to what he said. My still not fully awakened body was just fighting with my mind as I tried to sit. I was still slightly disoriented and my coochie weeped. “I, uhm, I’m sorry baby. I just had a very intense erotic dream…the first one in years. And you just happened to interrupt it at the worst possible moment.”

“Oh, daamn!” he chuckled. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Not funny Jake. No one else but you could ever make me this wet. The sheets below me are literally soaked through.” I heard him inhale sharply on the other side. It took him a few more seconds to respond. “You’re wet?” It sounded a bit like a stifled groan, followed by him clearing his throat. Poor Jake, he was so taken aback by my response that Oliver had to take over. “Thaths probably because I was absolu-te-ly on fire tonight, my love! Telepathy must be one of my many superior powers. Now I need to clean the mess…”

“What do you mean?”

“Phone sex, obviously.”

I laughed. Nah, I’m not a fan. I love his voice, don’t get me wrong, but it couldn’t possibly make up for all the stuff that my subconsciousness flooded my brain with just a moment ago. Also, I’ve always found the idea of phone sex strangely disconcerting. We could do the most obscene stuff face to face without even batting an eye, but to be describing to him how I’m touching myself? No, thank you. I’d be embarrassed. Don’t know why. That’s just how it is, And that’s what I told him.

“Oh come on, let’s try it.” Jake was back. “Besides, it’s a mutual obligation now. I’m already hard.”

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. “Ok Jake,” I crooned monotonously, “what are you wearing?”

“Oh GOD!” he moaned theatrically. “You sound so sexy when you’re bored. Mmmmm.”

I laughed again, in earnest. “Sorry,” I chuckled. “Ok, let’s try it. But I’m not going to describe what I’m doing. You tell me what to do.”

“Deal.”

I heard his sheets rustle as he shifted on his bed, which meant he already had me on speaker, so I did the same. I adjusted the pillows, stripped off my babydoll and tried to find a comfortable position. “Ok Jake, I’m ready.”

“Good girl. Now, close your eyes and cup your breasts. Let your thumbs draw slow circles around your nipples. No pressure.” His voice suddenly sounded huskier than before.

“Are you jerking off?” And then I heard it. The unmistakable sound of his fist sliding rhythmically up and down his cock. Of course he was.

“You can’t blame me sweetheart,” he breathed out. “I got here, still full of adrenaline from the show, only to hear you tell me that I was fucking you in your dreams. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

The sound of his heavy breath made my pelvic muscles contract and my heartbeat quicken. I licked my fingertips and let my hand slide between my legs, trying to ease the ache. “Talk to me Jake. Forget the nipples. Guide my fingers.”

“Who’s impatient now?” He let out an involuntary moan, swallowed harshly and continued: “Squeeze your clit between two fingers, scissor-like. Now rub from side to side and gently pull.”

I knew what he meant. His technique was completely different from mine and effective in its own way. I never tried to recreate it before. I did now, and it all suddenly came back to me. The dream, his touch, his dick, stretching me, fucking me, our loins dancing together to the rhythm of our heartbeats…

“Not enough,” I whined. “I need more, Jake.”

“Ok, time for Mini Me.”

That was yet another thing my lover did for me. We found a company that makes custom dildos using castings of real customers. Now, a cold piece of silicone can never compete with the real jake, but it was the next best thing whenever I needed to release the tension after a long day. I loved the shape of it. It was mine. I opened the drawer and reached for the toy. “Now what?”

“Ride me,” he groaned.

“How am I supp…”

“Let’s pretend we fell off the bed.”

“What?”

“Off the bed! Now!” he commanded. I climbed off the bed and attached the dildo to the wooden floor. “Mini Me’s ready. What now?”

“Now sit.”

I did as I was told. I got on my knees, placed the tip between my folds and slowly slid all the way down. Our roles reversed for a brief moment as I was now guiding him through. I heard him spit into his palm and groan with relief. It was his time to take the reins again. “Move,” he rasped. “Grab your hips and pretend it’s me. Set the pace, but tell me.”

I started moving my hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, while whispering up and down and up and down to him. I was now close to my bedside table, the fragrant scarf only a few feet from me. I closed my eyes. The illusion was almost perfect.

“That’s my girl,” he moaned. “Do you want to go faster?”

“No, this is fine.”

“Ok, continue baby. Let me hear you.”

We continued like that for several minutes, eyes closed, listening to each other. I could hear that he was close as his low moans turned to high-pitched whimpers. My thighs started shaking and I had to catch hold of the bedside table to ease the tension in my legs. I opened my eyes and that’s when I saw it. The multi coloured lampshade. As I was moving, so were the colorful lights before my eyes. It was like being there, under the stage lights, as I was listening to my man. The most beautiful song. It overwhelmed my senses and I came, screaming. From the haze of my own high, I heard him finish shortly afterwards.

I wanted to hear every detail of his show, and he wanted to know about my project, but we were both already too exhausted, so he promised to call me again in the morning. I knew he would, because that’s what my lover does.

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @klarxtr @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @GVFstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #gvf fanfic #gvf fanfiction

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nalyra-dreaming · 4 months

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“Took him to that banquet, where the men there... well, took liberties.” Except they didn’t. That’s the gag. They tried. They offered their rings and their jewels and Marius entertains them all while giving Amadeo knowing looks. Armand describes these looks as “secretive” and “teasing” because he knew that none of the men were going to make it out of there alive. Marius is literally toying with them. “I couldn't help but smile. Kill them, I thought, slaughter them. I felt fetching and even beautiful.” (TVA)

He KNEW Marius would never make him do anything he didn’t wanna do. “Martino, kiss my child if he'll allow it, and mark you, be gentle when you do." (TVA)

One would think so called book experts would be the first to point out the misinformation being spread about the banquet scene, but they’re not. In fact, you’re actively contributing to it with nothing to back it up. So I have to ask, just why are you making it sound like something happened when it clearly didn’t? It’s okay to admit that not every change being made for the show aligns with what’s actually in the book.

*sighs*

(you're the nonny who got pissed at me for saying that Marius did not kill Santino decades after Amadeo's abduction, aren't you. When it's clearly a play on centuries...)

Let us let the text give the whole scene, okay? Or, more of the scene, than the one sentence you picked (since it's a rather long one).

The red-haired man leaned forward, deep into the flirt, and put the goblet right against my lip. "Little David, you'll grow up to be the King, remember? Oh, I would worship you now, tender-cheeked little man that you are, and beg for one psalm from your harp, just one, were it given with your own will." My Master whispered low, "Can you grant a man's dying request?" "I think he is dead!" said the gray-haired man with obnoxious loud- ness. "Look, Martino, I think I did kill him; his head's bleeding like a damned tomato. Look!" "Oh, shut up about him!" said Martino, the redhead, without taking his eyes off mine. "Do grant a dying man's request, little David," he went on. "We are all dying, and I for you, and that you die with me, just a little, Sir, in my arms? Let us make a little game of it. It will amuse you, Marius De Romanus. You'll see I ride him and stroke him with one artful rhythm, and you'll behold a sculpture of flesh that becomes a fountain, as what I pump into him comes forth from him in my hand." He cupped his hand as if he had my organ already in it. He kept his eyes on me. Then in a low whisper, he said, "I'm too soft to make my sculpture. Let me drink it from you. Have mercy on the parched." I snatched the goblet out of his wavering hand and drank down the wine. My body tightened. I thought the wine would come back up and spew. I made it go down. I looked at my Master. "This is ugly, I hate it."

"Oh, nonsense," he said, barely moving his lips. "There's beauty all around!" "Damned if he isn't dead," said the gray-haired man. He kicked the body of Francisco on the floor. "Martino, I'm out of here." "Stay, Sir," said Marius. "I would kiss you good night." He clapped his hand over the gray-haired man's wrist and lunged at his throat, but what did it look like to the red-haired one, who gave it only a bleary glance before he continued his worship? He filled my goblet again. A moan came from the gray-haired man, or was it from Marius? I was petrified. When he turned from his victim, I would see even more blood teeming in him, and I would have given all the world to see him white again, my marble god, my graven Father in our private bed. The red-haired man rose before me as he leant over the table and put his wet lips on mine. "I die for you, boy!" he said. "No, you die for nothing," said Marius. "Master, not him, please!" I cried. I fell back, nearly losing my balance on the bench. My Master's arm had come between us, and his hand covered the red-haired man's shoulder. "What's the secret, Sir?" I cried frantically, "the secret of Santa Sofia, the one we must believe?"

The red-haired man was utterly befuddled. He knew he was drunk. He knew things around him didn't make sense. But he thought it was because he was drunk. He looked at Marius's arm across his chest, and he even turned and looked at the fingers clutching his shoulder. Then he looked at Marius and so did I. Marius was human, utterly human. There was no trace of the impermeable and indestructible god left. His eyes and his face simmered in the blood. He was flushed as a man from running, and his lips were bloody, and when he licked them now, his tongue was ruby red. He smiled at Martino, the last of them, the only one left alive. Martino pulled his gaze away from Marius and looked at me. At once he softened and lost his alarm. He spoke with reverence. "In the midst of the siege, as the Turks stormed the church, some of the priests left the altar of Santa Sofia," he said. "They took with them the chalice and the Blessed Sacrament, our Lord's Body and Blood. They are hidden this very day in the secret chambers of Santa Sofia, and on the very moment that we take back the city, on the very moment when we take back the great church of Santa Sofia, when we drive the Turks out of our capital, those priests, those very priests will return. They'll come out of their hiding place and go up the steps of the altar, and they will resume the Mass at the very point where they were forced to stop." "Ah," I said, sighing and marveling at it. "Master," I said softly. "That's a good enough secret to save a man's life, isn't it?" "No," said Marius. "I know the story, and he made our Bianca a whore."

The red-haired man strained to follow our words, to fathom the depth of our exchange. "A whore? Bianca? A murderer ten times over, Sir, but not a whore. Nothing so simple as a whore." He studied Marius as though he thought this heated passionately florid man was beautiful, indeed. And well he was. "Ah, but you taught her the art of murder," said Marius almost tenderly, his fingers massaging the man's shoulder, while with his left arm he reached around Martino's back, until his left hand might lock on the man's shoulder with his right. He bent his forehead to touch Martino's temple. "Hmmm," Martino shook himself all over. "I've drunk too much. I never taught her any such thing." "Ah, but you did, you taught her, and to kill for such paltry sums." "Master, what is it to us?" "My son forgets himself," said Marius, still looking at Martino. "He forgets that I am bound to kill you on behalf of our sweet lady, whom you so finagled into your dark, sticky plots." "She rendered me a service," said Martino. "Let me have the boy!" "Beg pardon?" "You mean to kill me, so do it. But let me have the boy. A kiss, Sir, that's all I ask. A kiss, that is the world. I'm too drunk for anything else!" "Please, Master, I can't endure this," I said. "Then, how will you endure eternity, my child? Don't you know that's what I mean to give you? What power under God is there that can break me?" He threw a fierce angry glance at me, but it seemed more artifice than true emotion. "I've learnt my lessons," I said. "I only hate to see him die." "Ah, yes, then you have learnt. Martino, kiss my child if he'll allow it, and mark you, be gentle when you do." It was I who leant across the table now and planted my kiss on the man's cheek. He turned and caught my mouth with his, hungry, sour with wine, but enticingly, electrically hot. The tears sprang to my eyes. I opened my mouth to him and let his tongue come into me. And with my eyes shut, I felt it quiver, and his lips become tight, as if they had been turned to hard metal clamped to me and unable to close. My Master had him, had his throat, and the kiss was frozen, and I, weeping, put out my hand blindly to find the very place in his neck where my Master's evil teeth had driven in. I felt my Master's silky lips, I felt the hard teeth beneath them, I felt the tender neck. I opened my eyes and pulled myself away. My doomed Martino sighed and moaned and closed his lips, and sat back in my Master's grip with his eyes half-mast.

So, let's see.

I've highlighted a few instances. And yes, I DO see these as Martino here take liberties. Now, I'm not sure how it is with your reading comprehension, but it's very clear to me that an offered kiss on a cheek and one taken open mouthed are two different things.

And it's not even the first kiss either, as highlighted above.

Oh, and above that, the "bantering "how he would ride him until he makes Armand come".

And it makes Armand want to throw up.

That is what I mean with "liberties".

Now, you obviously can call this as you want.

I CALL IT TAKING LIBERTIES.

And Marius let it happen, actually more or less coaxed him into it as well!! Oh, yes, he always planned to kill Martino - for Bianca. Well. But do grant that dying man his last wish Amadeo, hmmm, how about it. /sarcasm off. What do you want me to say to that.

So, actually I DO think that it is in the book. At the very least hinted at. The "ankles of the boys" and all that, too. Want me to dig that out, too?

So, nonny:

Take your passive aggressive asks elsewhere in the future, please.

Because despite your claim I CAN back it up.

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #the vampire chronicles #vc #vampire chronicles #the vampire armand #marius de romanus #armand #book quotes #iwtv s2 #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire s2 #amc interview with the vampire

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aziraphales-library · 9 months

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i’m wondering if you would have any recommendation for their 41’ candle light date or any AU was set up in 41’? any rate will be accepted

thank you very much for your help in advance

Hey. We have a #post church scene tag. Here are some written since series two...

There Must Be Something by Infinitysided (E)

"Something then took over him as it would a man possessed. The spirit of something much larger than him. It took the shape of their relationship, their past, their inevitabilities. This energy screamed for worship and devotion; more, more, more. Aziraphale, well accustomed to the feeling of love, would not quite equate it to such. Far too ravenous and unbecoming were the impulses that ran through him." *** After Crowley had saved him and his books from the church, Aziraphale had insisted upon repaying him.

London, 1941. The aftermath. by Froggietime (G)

After they are done with the magic show, they both have wine together and I've decided that they get very drunk. I thought this was a silly idea.

There’s Magic in the Air (Among Other Things) by alter_autumn (T)

Following their adventures at the West End, Aziraphale and Crowley return to the bookshop and split a bottle of whisky. Some enlightening conversation ensues.

We'll Meet Again by bobbirose (E)

Crowley drew in a breath. “Could always say I was trying to tempt you,” he said on an exhale, eyes locked safely behind his glasses. “And that it didn’t work, of course.” Aziraphale tutted at him disapprovingly, trying not to show the thrill the words gave him. “Is that allowed? Downstairs, I mean. Tempting an angel?” Crowley shrugged. “Sounds a lot better than helping one out with a magic trick. Oodles more torture with that, I think.” The night that never ends in 1941 ends a little differently, with the help of a sentient gramophone.

The Last Dance by OneDapperCat (M)

In the midst of the Blitz, Aziraphale and Crowley come to terms with latent feelings they’ve tried to deny. Having gone from not being on speaking terms, to sharing a bed, their first night reunited in 1941 feels like a whirlwind. They begin to explore where they stand, as the second night comes to a close.

Bingo card by ScottiesEvans (T)

Aziraphale was way too excited for his performance at the West End. His hands were properly shaking, and it took all he had in him to get ready without using "frivolous miracles". Thank Heavens Crowley was there, and offered to draw Aziraphale's moustache on for him. Well, now his hands were shaking for a whole other reason. Surely, he wouldn't be able to do the perfect, well rehearsed knot in his bow-tie with those shaky hands. Surely, Crowley would have to stand extremely close to help with that. Surely, he wasn't to blame he couldn't resist placing a kiss on the demon's lips.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #post church scene #mod d

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0sincerelyella · 1 year

Text

Request: Josh Allen X Wife!Reader. Josh takes his wife shopping after a game (she's very introverted and to herself mostly) and they have a good time along with dinner.

sweet voices - Josh Allen

Summary: Josh is a very emotional person, and his only outlet on those emotions is his beautiful, recent wife, y/n. so after a beautiful football win, he decides to treat his beautiful wife

Notes: despite the HORRIBLE summary, this is going to be good and cute i PROMISE.

Josh was so giddy and happy, not only because of the game, but today was the first day he got to come home from a win, and he greeted by his newly wed wife, instead of his long term girlfriend

it was his first time going home to see the woman, whom he’s been with for ten years, as his wife, and his forever. and boy did he have an amazing celebration for them.

walking through the door, freshly showered and happily excited. “Princess i’m home!” he said excitedly, finding his wife laying on the couch in an oversized bills hoodie, curtesy of joshes side of the closet. “Hey joshey!” she said, swinging her legs over the couch, smiling at her husband. “hello my wife” he spoke, kissing her forehead. “Congrats on the win my love, you played amazing, i’m so sorry i couldn’t be there” she apologized, y/n didn’t really enjoy the stadium scene, she loved watching the games from home, but actually being there put a pit in her stomach because of the fact she was alone without josh in a group full of people, so she opted with staying home and cheering him on from the couch. she does attend some games, sitting with his parents in the VIP box, but only the games they can attend, to make her feel a bit more comfortable.

“never mind that, you watched that’s all that matters. how is my wife?” he asks, sitting next to her on the couch, draping his arm over her shoulder and kissing her cheek. “i’m great really, enjoying lounging around” josh smiled, standing up. “we’ll too bad, go change i have a surprise” he said with a big goofy grin. y/n looked at him suspiciously, as he grabbed her hand to help her off the couch. “what is it?” josh laughed, pulling her up gently, and rubbing her back. “you wish” he whispered, kissing her cheek and walking toward their bedroom.

after y/n got dressed josh led her to the car, opening the door for his wife. “josh what are we doing?” she asked as he got into the driver seat of his car. “we’re going shopping” he said, pulling out of the driveway. “what for?” josh grabbed y/ns hand in his and rested them on the center console. “whatever your heart desires babe” y/n shook her head. josh interrupted before she could say a word. “before you say anything about celebrating my win, this is how i want to do it. i want to sit down and have a nice dinner with my wife and treat her to whatever she wants to buy” he explained, smiling over at her, she nodded quietly, happy and content with her life.

as the drive went on, y/n watched josh as he drove the car. “i’m proud of you for your win today babe” she spoke, running her fingers across his hand. “i really appreciate that” he said, bringing her hand up to kiss it. “you played really well and you kept your cool” she continued, wanting to make it clear that she watched the game, she felt bad for not being able to attend. “y/n, love, you don’t have to worry about not coming to my games” he promised. “i know you support me and you try every time you can” josh reassured y/n, letting her know that he wasn’t upset at all by her not being there.

once the two got to the mall, josh opened y/ns door and led her into the mall, her hand held tightly in his own. their first stop, one hundred percent josh’s idea, was the lego store. “josh we will never have time to build one of these” y/n laughed, josh shook his head and led her to the lego flower section. “we will reserve a date night for wine, movies, and legos” he said, happily allowing y/n to pick a set. y/n grabbed the roses and josh grabbed the cherry blossom bonzai tree and the husband and wife checked out of the store

through out the store josh was being stopped left and right for pictures, but y/n didn’t mind, she always stepped off to the side and waited for the large crowd to subside from her husband so they could continue their much needed family time. but one crowd in particular did not allow y/n to enjoy her time with josh. it was a group of four girls, all about 14, all wanting pictures with josh. y/n stepped aside, trying to go unseen by the eyes of the public, keeping completely to herself as she walked over and sat on a bench. the girls, after their picture, had continued to ask josh various questions, and crowd him with warnings of facetimes to friends, and autographs, and to make tiktoks, and all josh wanted was to be with his wife

“girls, i really do appreciate the support but my wife-“ the tallest girl cut him off. “josh my dads a big fan can you call him?” josh shook his head. “i really need to get back to my wife” he said, turning towards y/n. the girl crossed her arms. “wow. i thought you were a nice guy, seems to me like your faking it” she said, taking a stab at his attempt to just go shopping with his wife. josh turned around, not noticing y/n walking towards them. “like i said girls, i really appreciate the support, but my whole life isn’t football and pictures and autographs, i have a wife. and she is my whole world, and i will not jeopardize my whole world pictures and tiktoks with 14 year olds” he came off a bit more rude than he wished, but his anger got the best of him as he turned to find his wife grabbing his hand to drag him away from the crowd.

“can a guy not have alone time with his woman from time to time?” josh laughed, draping his arm over y/ns shoulder as they walked away. “not when that guy is a famous football player” y/n said, laughing back at him. “i love playing football and i love the fans, but man they gotta understand that i love my wife way more” y/n giggled, kissing joshes hand that rests on her shoulder. “i love you josh” she said, smiling. “i love you sweet girl” he promised.

the next store the couple found themselves in was build a bear, and without any protests, y/n began running through the store like a kid.

she squealed as she came across the nightmare before christmas section “i don’t know which one to choose!” she complained, deciding between getting all three lock shock and barrel, or oogie boogie, or jack. “they are so cute” she complained some more, huffing and puffing over stuffed bears. “how about i get jack, and you get sally and we can do voice memos and i’ll take sally to put in my locker at work, and you take jack” josh suggested, to which y/n almost fell over out of happiness.

y/n grabbed the bear for sally and began to build her, making josh stand on the other side of the store waiting, so that the voice memo could be a surprise. when she was finished it was josh’s turn. the two promised not to play the voice memos until josh went to work the next morning, and y/n was at home.

after the mall, josh had picked a restaurant , because y/n was TERRIBLE at deciding where to eat, and they had finally sat down to relax. josh held both of y/ns hands across the table as they talked. y/n rambled i’m about her day, and how happy she was to watch the game, and josh rambled about all of the things he could’ve improved on and all of the things he had shown signs of already improving on.

y/n loved listening to josh rant about football, something about his voice automatically calmed her down from the world. she loved spending this time with josh.

“thank you for taking me out today” she said, smiling at him. “of course y/n, we deserve to have some time to just us, husband and wife” he said, running his thumb atop her knuckles.

the next day, when josh was at practice, y/n grabbed the jack bear, and sat on her and josh’s bed.

while josh had done the same at the stadium, finding some privacy to listen to the bear

y/n pressed play. “I love you princess, never forget. every single win is for you my wife, mwah!” y/n giggled, hugging the bear to her chest. her smile never faded.

may the stadium, or was josh’s turn to press play. “Remember to stay calm joshy, don’t forget i’m always watching your games no matter what, win or lose, i love you!” josh smiled so bright, with all that love, this bear could win buffalo a super bowl.

#josh allen fic #josh allen #nfl #nfl videos #the flash #nfl imagine #nflying #nfl football #nfl fic #nfl vlog #nfl fluff #nfl lb #nfledit #nfl players #nfl fan fic #buffalo #buffalo new york #buffalo bills #bills mafia

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starstruckkittensweets · 11 months

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"Roadside Attraction" | Aki x Reader (Kinktober 2023)

Car Sex - Aki Hayakawa

Fandom: Chainsaw Man Pairing: Aki Hayakawa x Reader Words: 2.4k

A/N: This is my first time writing for any CSM character, so I'm not sure how this turned out, but at least I had fun with writing it! I have a soft spot for Aki, man needs a hug and lots of sleep for dealing with those 2 weirdos Denji and Power! (But I love them all.) Also I drew a blank with the title, if I think of a better one I'll change it. I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Warnings: canon au, dry humping, brief breast/nipple play, unprotected sex, pulling out method, mentions of aftercare, slight dirty talk, Reader is unabashedly horny in this one

As much as you’ve grown to love Denji and Power over the last few weeks…you have to admit, they can be such serious cockblocks sometimes.

Not that you and your boyfriend could ever be considered sex fiends (you both like to keep an air of modesty around, even in the safety of your shared apartment). But nowadays, it’s almost as if you can’t even kiss him without an extra pair of eyes drinking in the scene.

Doing a load of laundry? Denji’s sitting on top of the dryer, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. Making dinner in the kitchen? Power’s not far behind, peeking over your shoulders, demanding to know what kind of food you’ve chosen to prepare for her. Hell, even your own bedroom isn’t as safe as it once was. One night Aki had barely managed to slip your shirt over your head, lips warm against the base of your throat, when you nearly screamed about something brushing against your leg.

Power’s pet cat Meowy, pressing her cheek against your leg, begging for a quick pat on the head. At that point you had half a mind to pick her up by the scruff and drop her right into Power’s lap—but the last thing you wanted was a vengeful Blood Fiend after you for daring to hurt her precious cat.

Even the fucking cat is getting in your way.

“We need a vacation,” you mumble one morning, perched on the kitchen counter.

Aki shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his coffee, not even bothering to chide you for sitting on the counter. You know damn well Denji and Power wouldn’t be able to get away with that.

“We have that mission from Ms. Makima coming up this weekend.”

“That’s…not what I meant…”

He pauses, lips lingering on the rim of his mug. His hair is still frazzled from sleep, hanging over his shoulders. (Not that you want to run your fingers through it or anything. No, of course not.)

“…Then what do you mean?”

You smile, tugging on the hem of his sleepshirt, inching his body closer to yours. “We need a vacation, a real one. Not just a solo mission, either. Just you and me…” You lean in close, lips brushing against the apple of his cheek. Lifting your knees and wrapping your legs around his waist. “…And maybe a nice hotel room, with soft sheets, a bottle of wine, and maybe even—”

“Ooh, sounds good! When are we heading out?”

The two of you pull away from each other at once; your face flushed with heat as Aki clears his throat, turning back to the mess of dishes in the sink. Denji sprawls his upper half along the counter, eyes shifting lazily back and forth between you and your boyfriend.

You don’t know how much more of this you can take.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” you hiss through your teeth. “Forget it.”

He lets out a groan just as Power stumbles into the kitchen, Meowy snuggled up in her arms. You sigh and jump off the counter; out of the corner of your eye, you can see Aki shaking his head at you.

You love the little family the four of you have created…but damn it, not at the cost of a little private time with your own boyfriend.

Thankfully the weekend comes faster than you thought, and as you’re driving through the streets at night, the files from Makima resting in your lap, you’re starting to wonder if Aki had a point when he saw this as a vacation.

The destination’s set, the roads are quiet, and the stars are absolutely gorgeous. And the best part? No Denji and Power to bother you.

For the first time in literal months, you have Aki all to yourself. And you’ll be damned if you let this opportunity slip through your fingers.

You shift in your seat, adjusting the papers and folders in your lap (also possibly parting your thighs a bit—just to get comfortable, you swear). “How much longer till we get there?”

“It’s not far,” he says, sounding a little strained from the long drive. “We’ll be there within the hour.”

Meaning the hotel Makima booked for the two of you. Despite the work and expectations for the two of you during this mission, it’s hard not to get excited at the thought of finally being alone with him. And in just an hour you’ll be in that hotel room, far away from any distractions named Denji and Power. Locked inside four walls with no one there to bother you. Just you, your boyfriend, a comfy king-sized bed…and the whole night ahead of you.

Trouble is, you don’t think you can wait that long.

You clear your throat and shift in your seat again. Aki hasn’t noticed your little game yet, too focused on the empty road ahead. So you stretch out your arms in a yawn, tossing the files into the backseat of his car. Rolling your shoulders, squeezing your thighs together.

When he still doesn’t glance your way, you reach out and rest your hand on his crotch.

You’re lucky he doesn’t swerve off the road at that; immediately his body goes rigid, his knuckles a stark white as he grips the steering wheel. Gritting his teeth as he struggles to keep his eyes on the road.

“…Seriously? You can’t wait a bit longer?”

“I’ve been waiting for weeks now,” you mumble, squeezing your fingers around him. He rolls his eyes, as though he’s not growing hard beneath your palm right now. “Can’t help it, I need you—”

“And I need to focus on driving.” He sucks in a sharp breath at your touch, but he makes no move to swat your hand away. “…Stop it.”

“Or what?” It’s hard not to smirk at the look on his face, the way his eyes glow beneath the faint lights on the side of the road. “You gonna punish me? Tell me what a bad girl I am?”

“I-I’m serious—”

“And so am I.” This time he full-on whines when you squeeze your hand around him. You press your thighs together, already feeling your panties growing damp. “It’s just the two of us, Aki. Me and you, like it was in the beginning. Like hell I’m not gonna try to get in your pants.”

He groans again, shaking his head, jolting when the car hits a slight bump in the road. His fingers flex against the steering wheel, eyes fluttering shut with every roll of your wrist, every touch of your fingers.

But you win in the end; before you know it he’s slowing the car down to a stop, right on the side of the road. No one’s around for miles, no cars coming up in the distance.

Just you and him, as it always should be.

He’s panting by the time he unbuckles his seatbelt. Sliding his seat back to make room for you, as you wrestle with your own seatbelt in the passenger’s seat. It finally slips off and you crawl into his lap, pressing your chest against his own, lips hot and demanding as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“Such a fucking brat,” he mumbles, already fumbling with the hem of your shirt. You barely manage to pull it over your head before he’s on you again, trailing a line of kisses down the side of your neck. “Really couldn’t wait another fucking hour, huh?”

“Nope,” you reply, popping the p with a smirk.

He opens his mouth but you cut him off with a roll of your hips. The delicious friction of your clothes and the heat of the car sending your eyes rolling back into your skull.

Damn it, you’re like a pair of horny teenagers. Has it really been that long since you last shared a night together? Are you really that desperate to be close to him that you’d risk it all for a quick fuck in his car on the side of the road?

Yes, absolutely. You’ve always been the type to take risks, after all.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth when you roll your hips again. Too eager to feel him against your body, can’t be bothered to take off any more of your clothes. He reaches up, squeezing your breasts, rolling them in his palms as you kiss your way down his neck. “T-too fast—”

But you can’t stop, and he makes no move to push you off. So you keep thrusting your hips, eagerly chasing your release. He brings your mouth to his again, sliding one hand to cup your ass, dragging your hips along his own.

You reach out behind him, fingers snagging on the little hair tie and pulling it free. His black hair spills over his shoulders, making it easier for you to tangle your fingers in the strands. He doesn’t seem to mind; only pulls you closer, hips stuttering against your own.

Your name tumbles from his lips as a faint pink color washes over his cheeks. “Can’t—shit, ’m gonna—”

You cut him off with a kiss, stilling your hips slightly, shifting yourself just enough to unfasten his belt. The last thing either of you want to do is finish the car ride with messy pants; it’s bad enough you already have to change your panties by the time you’re through here.

He slips his cock out, giving it a few quick strokes, his eyes never leaving yours as you shimmy your way out of your pants. It’s a little hard, given the lack of space in the car to begin with. But finally they’re on the passenger’s seat beside you, panties resting right on top of them. You spread your legs and straddle him, hands curled around his shoulders. Swallowing his moan of your name as you sink yourself onto him, the stretch of his cock sending a shiver down your spine.

“F-fuck,” he hisses against your throat, “missed this, y’know…”

You can’t hold back your smile, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. “I know, I did too.”

At least now you know you’re not the only one left feeling needy after the last couple months.

The two of you stay like that for a bit, getting used to the feel of each other. His hands sinking down to your waist, fingertips pressing into the soft skin of your hips. You swirl his hair in your hand, pulling it back and kissing his forehead. Only when he gives you a nod do you start to move your hips; slow and soft, eyes fluttering when you lean in and capture his lips in a kiss.

It’s been too fucking long since you were able to do this last; you’d almost forgotten how wonderful it feels, having him deep inside you. Hard and heavy, sending blissful shivers along the length of your body. Pressing up against that spongy spot inside you, the same one that makes you squirm and clench around his aching cock. Just the thought of it has you moving your hips faster, matching your earlier pace. But Aki is quick to help you, his hands guiding your hips against his own, moaning into your mouth with every thrust.

The windows are starting to fog up around you, the car jerking with every move you make. It must look so stereotypical from an outsider’s perspective; a couple of horny lovebirds who couldn’t wait till they got to their hotel room. Well, you’re the horny one—but Aki is just as guilty as you are, if his moans are anything to go by.

“That’s it,” he mumbles against your lips, “feel that? Feel how hard you get me? What you fucking do to me?”

Yeah, you do, and you love every fucking second of it.

“M-much better than waiting for the…for the hotel room, right?”

He doesn’t answer, only grasps your hips tighter and forces himself deeper into you. You’re panting hard, bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace, a thin layer of sweat beading at your forehead. Aki leans down to kiss your breasts, taking one of your nipples between his teeth.

You’re close, so fucking close you’re practically babbling at this point. Eyes squeezed shut as he rocks himself deeper into you. Whining out his name, nails biting into his shoulders as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” your voice is sweet against his lips, words tasting like honey on his tongue—and suddenly he’s thrusting into your wet heat as hard as he can, as fast as he can, just a little bit more, a little bit, a little bit—

He swallows your scream as you gush around his cock, thighs trembling around his waist. It’s not long before he follows suit, barely managing to pull out before he reaches his own peak. Your fingers find his cock at once, and with a few rapid strokes he’s groaning into your neck, thick white ropes coating your palms.

As much as you want to stay in his lap for a little while longer, you know better than to push your luck. Aki never likes dealing with too much of a mess after sex; besides, you two still have a mission to do, a hotel to get to before they give your room away.

He helps you climb off his lap, as gently as he can, settling you back into the passenger’s seat. He keeps a stash of wipes in the glove compartment, something you never thought you’d be grateful for in the past. He cleans you up and pulls your panties back over your legs, giving you a firm kiss on your lips when he’s done.

“Think you can hold out just a bit, till we get to the room?”

You give him a weak nod, snuggling against the seat cushion with a smile on your face. “I think so.”

And then he smiles, a soft and small one that makes your heart flutter in your chest. He rolls down the windows, letting the cool night air wash out the sticky smell of sex. Once your clothes are straightened and the windows aren’t as steamy, he starts the car again and begins the trek down the road, picking up right where the two of you left off.

But this time he holds your hand in his own, giving it a soft squeeze as declarations of love spill from your lips.

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa #kinktober 2023 #star's kinktober 2023 #aki hayakawa smut #smut #csm fics

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imzadi-caskett-huddy · 4 months

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Break First (1/1)

I know I owe you guys chapters on “Hell Hath No Fury” and “It Started With a Kiss.” Trust me, I know. And I would love to be writing them for you. However, as I was listening to some music, minding my own business, this idea hit me BAM! Like lightning. And now instead of writing the fics I’ve already got going, I’m writing this one-shot to get it out of my head so I can get back to my regular scheduled fic writing.

This fic takes place after “The Limey” in season 4. The fic is inspired by the song “Break First” by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw. If you look it up to watch on YouTube, I recommend watching one of the versions from their live concert because their chemistry together is unreal. The words will appear in the fic, so it’s not completely necessary to look up the song…but you won’t regret it if you do. You’ll get more emotion behind the words if you listen to them with the music as opposed to if you just read them.

I do not own the song “Break First,” nor do I own Castle.

xxxxx

Standing at the bar tryin’ to get a drink

Got one I haven’t touched at the table

Somebody said you’re here, but I ain’t gonna leave

Maybe I’ll just act like you’re a stranger

Kate was sitting at the airport bar next to the handsome Scotland Yard Detective Inspector, nursing her glass of whiskey…whiskey, because after the day–well, few days–she’d had, there was no way she could settle for beer or even wine, and her only answer when Colin had asked what she wanted had been to say whatever he was drinking.

There was nothing particularly wrong with Colin. He was ridiculously handsome, sexy even…she’d snuck a peek at his body when his towel had dropped. He definitely checked off all the boxes from a physical standpoint. He was interesting enough, and even if he wasn’t, he had an accent that automatically made everything he said more interesting simply because of how it sounded coming out of his mouth. They even had things in common professionally.

So no…Colin wasn’t a bad date. But she found herself doing her best to feign interest as he talked, as her mind kept wandering. She kept replaying how Castle had pulled up to her crime scene in his Ferrari with that blonde floozy, and much as it had that night, she felt her heart clench and a sinking feeling in her gut. Lanie’s voice echoed in her head–Like you waited too long. She took a drink of her whiskey at that thought.

As if on cue, she spotted him…no, them taking an empty table across the bar. Jacinda. She was pressed against his side like she was glued there, and Kate guessed she may as well have been with the way Castle’s hand was around her waist, holding her against him. And then her damn eagle eye spotted the blonde’s hand running up along his inner thigh; a wave of jealousy,

anger, and hurt rolled through her body, and she felt almost sick…definitely like she’d just been sucker punched.

Do you know how hard it is, tryin’ to hold a conversation

Knowing you’re right there across the room

So I don’t hear a word that they’re sayin’

No I don’t hear a word that they’re sayin’

“I’m sorry, Kate; I’m boring you,” Colin apologized, realizing he’d lost her attention.

“What? No…no, you aren’t boring me,” she tore her eyes away from the scene that was breaking her heart as she finished the alcohol in her glass and ordered another. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long few days,” she apologized, turning to face the bar in front of her completely so she no longer had to watch Castle get a handjob from his latest squeeze underneath his table.

Colin studied her a moment before turning to look in the direction she’d been staring daggers at moments ago. Seeing Castle and a blonde woman, he turned back to her. “Must be hard working with your ex. How long ago did you break up?”

“We didn’t break up.” Seeing his confused look, she continued. “He’s not my ex,” Kate told him simply.

“Really? I could have sworn you two…”

“No,” Kate interrupted him. “Castle and I have never dated,” she exaggerated her annunciation of the word dated as the bartender placed a fresh glass in front of her, and she took a drink.

“Ah,” Colin nodded his understanding then. “But there’s something there?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I thought so.”

“But you don’t think so anymore?”

Kate offered a half-shrug and took another sip of her drink, letting the burn of the alcohol take the edge off the sting of it all. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

You or me baby, who’s gonna break first?

Who’s gonna walk up and say “Hi”

Then lean in a little too close to whose lips

Say “What the hell are we doin'?”

You or me baby, who’s gonna break first?

Castle had spotted her almost as soon as he’d entered the bar with Jacinda. He was a writer…he paid attention to the details. Even with the uncomplicated distraction of the attractive woman on his arm, there was no way he wouldn’t spot Kate. Unfortunately, he also spotted him. Of course, she was there with Scotland Yard. Just one more guy she could add to the list of men she dated. It seemed like she was willing to date anyone but him…almost as though the first criteria a man had to meet to score a date with Kate Beckett was to simply not be Richard Castle.

He watched as the other man placed his hand on her arm, earning a small smile from her in return. The Englishman stood from his seat at the bar then, and Castle was relieved it seemed like he was leaving. Only then he leaned in and placed a kiss on Beckett’s cheek, and Castle saw red. He immediately slid the hand that had been on Jacinda’s waist down to her ass, leaning in to whisper into her ear with a smile, his lips grazing the skin of her neck.

I’m dancing with a girl, got my eyes closed

Actin’ like I’m lost in the music

All I’m thinkin’ ‘bout is holdin’ you close

I don’t know how much longer I can do this

When he pulled back slightly from Jacinda and braved a glace in Kate’s direction, he was pleased to find that Scotland Yard was gone. He’d probably had to catch his flight. But Kate was still there, drinking alone now. Part of him wondered if she’d noticed him come into the bar with Jacinda. Part of him hoped she had, wanted her to see the way the blonde woman wanted him, touched him. Part of him wanted her to know that he didn’t need her.

Only…he did. Because while the flight attendant was attractive and fun and uncomplicated, she just…wasn’t Kate. She wasn’t as beautiful as Kate. She wasn’t as witty as Kate. She didn’t smile or laugh like Kate. She definitely wasn’t as brilliant or as intelligent as Kate. Her eyes weren’t the right shade…her hair wasn’t the right color. He hated himself but he still wanted her…he still wanted Kate. Jacinda was nothing more than a blonde distraction, the same way Gina had been.

He closed his eyes, letting his mind play tricks on him, letting his mind convince him that it was Kate he had his arm around; it was Kate who had her body pressed up against his, whispering seductively into his ear; it was Kate’s hand on his thigh. For as long as he kept his eyes closed, it worked. As long as he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend that she loved him too, that she was with him…finally. Kate... But when he opened his eyes, it wasn't Kate’s hazel eyes looking back at him.

Do you know how hard it is, bein’ in this situation?

Knowing you were everything

And now havin’ to act like we’re nothing

And pretendin’ that I don’t still love you

“Who’s Kate?”

Castle froze. Shit. He hadn’t realized he’d said her name out loud, but obviously he had. “She’s nobody. Just…a character in a chapter of a book I’m writing,” he tried to cover. “I was trying to figure out how to say goodbye to her. Her chapter in my book is over.”

Jacinda wasn’t as quick or as brilliant as Kate, but she wasn’t completely dumb either. “Sounds more like an old girlfriend to me,” she stated, pulling back from him slightly.

“Well, she’s not,” he shrugged. “In fact, I can promise you that she is not now, nor has she ever been, my girlfriend.” That part was painfully true, unfortunately.

“I’ve got to go, Ricky. My flight is boarding soon,” she told him, slipping out of his grasp.

“Jacinda, wait…”

She paused and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss. “When you finish working out whatever is going on with whoever Kate is, give me a call,” she told him, offering him a small smile before exiting the bar.

Castle sighed deeply. Damn it. He hadn’t ordered a drink when they’d entered because he was being nice about the fact that Jacinda couldn’t have one right before she went on duty. But now he definitely needed a drink. Only he couldn’t go up to the bar because Kate was still sitting there.

You or me baby, who’s gonna break first?

Who's gonna walk up and say “Hi”

Then lean in a little too close to whose lips

Say “What the hell are we doin’?”

You or me baby, who’s gonna break first?

Kate noticed the blonde leaving the bar out of the corner of her eye. She decided she had enough of this…whatever this was. Tossing back what was left of her whiskey, she placed her glass on the counter and slid out of the chair. She wasn’t drunk by any means…no, Kate Beckett could hold her liquor. But her filter was no longer operational after 3 glasses of whiskey. She marched right over to his table. She didn’t bother with pleasantries, she cut right to the chase. “What the hell are you doing?”

His eyes narrowed at her. “What the hell am I doing? What the hell are you doing? I thought you said Scotland Yard…”

“His name is Colin,” Kate interrupted him angrily.

“Fine…I thought that Colin was flying back to London,” he countered, his own anger flaring.

“He did.”

“His departure for London obviously made him irresistible to you. Can’t get much more one foot out the door than a relationship with a man who is a 7-hour flight away from you,” he stated.

“Why do you care? Didn’t you have a date with Jacinda?” she practically spat her name.

“Jealous?” he smirked smugly.

“Of your flight attendant floozy? Please,” she snorted. But oh…she was jealous. Jealous of the way Castle looked at her. Jealous of the way Castle talked about her. Jealous of the way he so easily handed the keys to his Ferrari…his Ferrari…to her. Jealous of the fact that Jacinda had driven his Ferrari more in 3 days than she had in 3 years.

“You sound jealous.”

Kate clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. “I’m not jealous. If you want to fuck your way through Delta’s entire fleet of flight attendants, be my guest. Just keep them the hell away from my crime scenes, and the hell away from my investigations,” she growled.

“Because you never mix business with pleasure,” he commented sarcastically.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorenson…you kissed him at the house of the kidnapped girl. Demming…you kissed him in the precinct, slept with him while you were working together too. Josh…paraded him around the precinct and couldn’t keep your hands off him. Now Colin. Only a matter of time before you sleep with him too…assuming you haven’t already. And those are just the ones I know about,” he said lowly.

She swallowed hard, her hands clenching into fists as her anger flared. They were standing almost toe to toe now, staring each other down…no, more like glaring at each other. Her eyes were getting watery, and she hated, hated the fact that when she got this angry the tears came without her permission and were completely out of her control. “You’re a jackass,” she hissed lowly.

“You’re a coward and a liar,” he growled, trying to mask his hurt behind the venom in his tone.

Who’s gonna say, “What were we thinkin’?

Who’s gonna cut right through the tension?

Who’s gonna admit that they miss who worse?

Who’s gonna tell who how bad it hurts?

His words felt like a slap in the face, made her heart feel like it were being ripped apart by that bullet all over again. For a moment, she found herself wishing it had been a bullet ripping through her heart again; at least a bullet’s damage could be repaired easily by a doctor. The damage his words were causing, however, would require much more than the skilled hands of a surgeon.

Their eyes never left each other as they remained in their glare-down, standing so close they were invading each other’s personal space, neither one willing to back down. It wasn’t until she felt a couple of rogue tears slipping down her cheeks that she was finally the one to break first. “What the hell are we doing?” The words were soft when they fell from her lips, and she couldn’t hide the hurt in them. “What did I do to make you hate me?”

He simply stared hard at her for a moment before his eyes finally softened just slightly. “I don’t hate you.” He didn’t hate her. He could never hate her. But he did want to hurt her, inflict some pain the way she’d hurt him.

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it sure as hell feels like you do,” she wiped her cheeks. “I miss my partner…I miss my friend…I miss…you. So please…just…tell me what I did. Because this…” she gestured between them, “this hurts.”

“You want to talk about hurt?” he started. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to find out everything you believed in for almost a year, hoped for, were working toward for so long is nothing more than a lie from a coward too afraid to just come out and tell you it was never gonna happen?”

She shook her head. “Castle, what are you talking about?” She genuinely had no idea where all of this was coming from.

“I heard you,” he finally stated lowly.

“You heard me?” she shook her head, still not following.

He just stared at her. Did she really not know? “In interrogation. With the bombing suspect.”

She stared back at him, trying to put the pieces together. And then it clicked. Oh shit. “Castle…” she started. “It’s not what you think.”

“It’s not what I think?! Kate, you lied to me…this whole time you knew, you knew how I felt about you. And you said nothing!” he said lowly, the anger overruling the hurt in his tone at the moment. “And what’s worse…you made me think there was something between us, something worth waiting for. But the whole time…everything…it was all just a damn lie.”

That’s what all this was about. He’d been waiting for her…and now he thought there was nothing worth waiting for. “Castle, please…just…just let me explain…”

“Explain what, Kate? That instead of just telling me the truth you would rather lie? That you would rather just string me along for God knows what reason instead of just putting me out of my misery? That you would rather be in a relationship with literally anyone but me?”

“Castle, that’s not it!” she tried.

“I’m so tired of this dance, Kate. I’m so tired of doing this with you. Just…just tell me you don’t feel the same and let me go on with my life, let me get over you.”

“Castle…”

“Tell me!” he insisted.

“I love you, okay!” she finally practically yelled at him. Only the fact that the bar was busy kept her confession from being overheard by more than just a few of the closer patrons who, thankfully, didn’t seem to pay them much attention outside of a wayward look at the commotion.

He was frozen at her words. So was she. The look of panic in her eyes told him that she had no more meant to say those words than he had expected to hear them from her. But they were out now. “What?”

She was still frozen, like a deer in headlights. She could feel her heart racing as the walls seemed to be closing in. She could feel the grip of panic rising in her throat. And like a deer in headlights, she turned and ran.

“Kate!” he called after her. But she had caught him off guard with her words and her sudden movement, and it took him a few seconds to get his body to move to chase after her. By the time he made it out to the main terminal, he couldn’t spot her through the crowd of people heading for baggage claim at JFK. Damn it! But he knew where she was going. It was late, she didn’t have a case…she’d go home. And he’d meet her there. This was not over.

You or me baby, who’s gonna break first?

Who’s gonna walk up and say “Hi”

Then lean in a little too close to whose lips

Say “What the hell are we doin’?

You or me baby, who’s gonna break first?

“Kate!” he stood outside her apartment, banging on her door. When she didn’t open it, he kept banging. “Kate! I’m not leaving until you open the door and talk to me!” He banged on the door again to reiterate his point.

She stood on the other side of the door, her back leaning against it as she wrestled with herself over what to do. She could test him…let him keep banging and yelling and maybe he would get tired and just leave…but she would have angry neighbors. Or she could just open the damn door and face him. She’d rather have the angry neighbors. After a few moments of his continuous banging, she finally opened the door, ready to yell at him.

Only before she was able to say anything, he pushed into her apartment, took her face in his hands, and kissed her hard. The way he moved was so determined and swift that she had to grip his shirt to keep from falling backward. It took several moments for her to get past the shock of his action, but she finally gave herself over to the kiss, the grip on his shirt loosening slightly, her mouth softening under his lips.

His kiss was demanding and thorough. He’d loved her, wanted her, thought he would finally have her…only to have it ripped away because he thought she didn’t feel the same…to then have her admit, albeit accidentally, she did feel the same…and then run away from him. He was making it clear, there was no way she was getting out of this yet…they were going to work this out now. She wouldn’t be able to run from this.

When he finally pulled away, they both stared at each other breathing heavily for a few moments. Kate finally broke the eye contact and moved past him to close the door. “Castle…” she started, only to have him interrupt her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She sighed softly, leaning her forehead against the door for a moment before finally turning to face him. “At first I didn’t know what parts were true, what things actually happened, when they happened. Castle…there were so many flashes of things…I didn’t know which ones were real, which ones I’d hallucinated, or which ones were drug-induced. I was a mess…I had to work through so many issues…” she tried to explain. “By the time I actually remembered and knew it was real…there were so many other issues I needed to work through. I didn’t know how to deal with everything. But I never lied to you about what I wanted.”

“So the relationship you mentioned wanting to have…”

“It was with you. I should have just said that…I shouldn’t have expected you to understand what I meant…” she shook her head. “I’ve been seeing a therapist, Castle. He helped me work through my shooting, my PTSD…he’s helped me with my wall. He’s still helping me,” she told him quietly. “I see him once a week.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he found himself asking her again.

She shrugged. “I just wanted to show up and put in the work without making any excuses,” she answered.

“So this therapist…he’s helped?”

She nodded. “He has.” She was quiet for a few moments. “I need you to understand that me not telling you I remember has nothing to do with how I feel about you. It is and was about me...it never had anything to do with you,” she told him softly. “And I’m sorry…I never meant for you to find out the way you did. I was going to tell you…”

“When?”

She was quiet for another few moments. “After this case, actually. When I asked if you had a minute to talk.”

“Only I didn’t…” he realized, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m sorry, Kate…about Jacinda…I just, I thought…”

“I know what you thought,” she held up her hand to stop him. “Did you sleep with her?” she asked quietly after a few moments. She needed to know.

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m not going to lie…I tried. I wanted to. But every time we got close I…I couldn’t,” he admitted quietly. “I felt like I was cheating on you, and I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Castle…” she murmured, moving into his arms, burying her face in his chest and just inhaling him.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, resting his head on top of hers as he held her tightly. “I’m sorry…I’m so, so sorry…” he murmured.

Her arms tightened around him as well as she turned her head to look up at him. “Me too,” she

murmured. She tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “Are we…okay?” she asked nervously.

He looked down at her. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that, considering?” he asked softly.

“We’re ok,” she nodded, resting her head back against his chest.

He released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He hadn’t messed this up. “We’re ok,” he repeated with a smile.

She felt a weight lift off her chest as he repeated her words. She hadn’t messed this up. “Castle…” she looked up at him. “That wall I told you about? It’s coming down,” she told him.

“I’d like to be here when it does,” he told her seriously.

She bit her lip again as she smiled slightly. “Maybe…we can knock the rest of it down together?”

“You mean…?” he trailed off with his question, wanting to make sure they were understanding each other since they seemed to have issues actually communicating with anything beyond subtext.

“I mean together,” she nodded. “I’m tired of waiting. We’ve both waited long enough, don’t you think?”

Her words brought a smile to his face. “Together…” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her, this one much slower and more gentle than the last.

She smiled against his lips, her hands sliding up his back to pull him closer as she returned his kiss. "So...can I drive your Ferrari now?" she asked softly with a smile.

He chuckled at that. "Kate, you can drive my Ferrari whenever you want," he promised, kissing her again.

You or me baby, who’s gonna break first?

Who’s gonna break?

You or me baby, who’s gonna break first?

xxxxx

So this fic didn’t exactly go way I had envisioned it when the idea struck me, but I’m still pretty pleased with how it turned out.

And now I can go back to writing the newest chapters for Hell Hath No Fury and It

Started With a Kiss.

I hope you all enjoyed this little angsty piece. I look forward to your comments!

#castle #caskett #kate beckett #richard castle #castle fanfiction

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