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youandiwerealive · 3 days

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Wish you could see you through my eyes [rd]

Author’s note: Roommate!Rúben is finally here! I want to thank the anon who dropped this scenario in my inbox because this… changed my life forever 😭 I loved writing this one and I hope my girls enjoy it! Mwah

Warnings: hold tight because this one is intense!! MINORS DNI!! Masturbation, wet dreams, some dirty talk, protected sex (finally), oral sex, multiple orgasms. Let me know if I’m missing something!

wc: 7058 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

It’s been three weeks since you’ve moved into the new apartment you will be staying in while you’re at university. The house is small but perfect enough for you and your housemate. His name is Rúben, he told you he is Portuguese when he introduced himself at the welcome party in the beginning of the semester.

You had a house that you shared with two other girls, but since they started some drama with you, you were desperately looking for another place to stay.

“I have a spare room in my house, my old housemate already finished his degree and he moved out” - Rúben said after hearing your story while you’re telling it to some friends that you two had in common - them bringing Rúben along to your group of people. You didn’t have another option, really, so you accepted his offer.

He’s alright, he seems calm and hasn’t been pestering you too much since you moved in, so you’re thankful for that.

You noticed right away that night that he is very interesting in the looks department - silently thanking god to be able to look at him every single day, but you’re not really interested in starting something fiery with your housemate, not wanting that kind of drama inside the house that you will be living in for the next two years.

On the other side, Rúben finds you very interesting as well, his mind is already creating a thousand scenarios where you two could be together, doing some of the most devilish things that can come to his mind.

He doesn’t want to push it right away though, thinking about knowing you better first - completely enticed by you. That shouldn’t be difficult, since you’re both living under the same roof.

Rúben plays football for the university’s team. You can tell that he is very focused on his goals by the way you always see him in the kitchen cooking all his meals, preparing his entire weeks worth of food, instead of acting like the usual 19 year old that would just order some pizza if they didn’t feel like cooking.

You often try to avoid being in the same place as him for too long - feeling a little anxious by the way he looks so dominant and intimidating to you. He is tall, much taller than you obviously, and he uses his free time to work out, having a toned body that would make a lot of guys jealous.

Sometimes, you decide to study in the living room when you’re home alone. When Rúben arrives, you feel the need to immediately pick up your books and go back to your room. He’s nice to you, he’s soft spoken and has a light smile on his face, but you would rather not get too close to him.

You feel small and intimidated by the way he looks at you, feeling like he could set you on fire, your cheeks burning every time you feel his eyes on you.

But you know he’s a caring guy, you can’t forget the way he helped you when you were desperately searching for a place to live, that alone has made you feel eternally grateful to him.

But it’s not just that. It’s the way he’s softly knocking on your room door now, pulling you out of your thoughts and studies. The door slowly opens, and your face turns into a smile once you see his face poking in.

“Sorry to disturb your peace” - he says with a shy smile. “I just thought I could invite you to come have dinner with me in the living room? We could watch a nice movie to get a break from all the studying.”

You look at him, like you’re trying to understand why would he invite you to that.

“I noticed you’ve been here for hours now, too focused studying, and you haven’t eaten yet. Plus I’ve been cooking so maybe I thought you could have a bite? Only if you want to, of course” - he looks at you like he’s begging you to accept his offer.

You smile at him. “What movie are we watching?” - you ask and Rúben lets out a breath that he didn’t knew he was holding.

And that’s how it started. You and Rúben had a routine now: you would have dinner together every night and watch a movie after. That was the only way Rúben found to spend more time with you. He loved hearing you laugh when you were watching comedies, the way you would always ask him a million questions when you were confused about the movie, and how you looked so adorable when you were scared of horror movies. The last one really making him want to hug you tight and cuddle you so he could make you feel safe and protected in his arms.

You’ve started to open up around him more as well, letting your bubbly personality show. You too got used to having his presence around, feeling sad when his football practice would run late and he couldn’t make it in time for dinner and movie night.

At the same time, Rúben didn’t look at you in a normal housemate-type-of-way. Neither did you. The sexual tension was noticeable near the both of you, but you just played pretend, believing that it was all in your head.

Until there’s one night, when you’re in your room studying - after having movie night with your housemate. Everything seemed quiet, little noise could be heard, mainly coming from the street, since your window was open. You kept writing down your notes, until you heard an unusual sound. You froze in place, trying to understand what kind of noise it was and where it came from. Sounds like… a moan? And it sounds like it comes from Rúben’s bedroom - being right next to yours.

You can’t help but blush while you imagine him in such an amended state that he didn’t even notice how loud the moan he'd let escape was.

You start thinking about how thin the walls in your apartment actually are, and remind yourself to be careful while making any type of noise, while you put your headphones on, so you can stop listening to Rúben while he is clearly having “a moment”.

You try not to overthink the sound that you heard coming from him. He’s a boy, after all, you shouldn’t be surprised to know that he was jerking himself off. But that changed the way you saw Rúben.

The next morning, you were having breakfast when you saw your housemate going to the bathroom, ready to take a shower as he took a towel with him.

The water starts running and you notice that he didn’t turn the water heater on. Why was he taking a cold shower?

You wait until he gets out of the bathroom, your eyes immediately glue to the water drops, slowly diving through his toned abs when he comes into vision. The towel was wrapped around his hips, and you can’t help but wonder what would happen if it accidentally fell to the floor.

“You’re staring, you know?” - he laughs cockily, taking you out of your trance.

Your cheeks immediately turn bright red, feeling so embarrassed by that moment.

“Why were you taking a cold shower?” - you ask back with an eyebrow raised at him, erasing the smug smile from his face.

“Oh-” - he stuttered a bit. “You know, it’s good for the muscles and all. Need to be careful, we have an important game coming up” - he told you, unsure of himself and definitely not convincing you.

After that, you take notice of Rúben’s behavior in your shared house, and around you.

You start noticing the times his hand would immediately go to his bulge, when you two were having a movie night. The way he would immediately close his legs when you would get closer to him on the sofa.

When the movie ends, he always goes to his room, and it gets very silent. It’s always unusual when his room is so silent: he is always listening to music, watching some videos, playing games, you name it. It’s only truly silent when he’s asleep, but yet… his light is still on.

It’s always the same routine: dinner, movie, Rúben goes to his room, absolute silence, and after a while, he gets out of his room, goes to the bathroom for a bit and comes back to his room to actually turn the light off and fall asleep, after sending you a good night text - not wanting to knock on your door in case you were already sleeping.

Rúben is unaware that you've noticed his routine. When he goes back to his room, it’s only him and his brain. The way you’re always plastered on the front of his head, the only thing he can think about all day, it was driving him insane. He lays in bed and thinks about how good your touch feels on his arms when you touch him. It’s an innocent and harmless touch, but he can’t stop thinking about how good it would feel on his entire body. He feels goosebumps on his skin when your delicate fingers touch him in such a light way. He loves being close to you, he loves how soft your hair feels on his arm when you lay your head on the sofa, next to his shoulder. He wants to touch you, to feel you.

All these thoughts wrap his head in a knot, and the only thing he can do is feel himself through his shorts.

His hand travels from his abs to his bulge, already growing at the thought of you. He massages his dick through his boxers, lowly whining at the feeling. After teasing himself for a bit, he pushes his underwear down, letting his hard dick spring free from his tight clothes.

He feels how hard he is, how much you fucked up his mind - and how unaware you are of it.

You turn him on. Everything you do. The way you look at him with your eyebrow raised, the way you roll your eyes at his cockiness, the way you laugh at his jokes. The way you make him lose his mind when you appear in the middle of the living room in the morning, looking so beautiful even after waking up, with your pyjamas. He loves the way your pyjama shorts hug your waist, embody your ass and allow your legs to be in full display for him. He loves it. He loves looking at you, he’s always daydreaming about you. He fantasizes about you all the time, he imagines how it would be if you were in his bed with him, right now. How would you react if you saw him touching himself, his cock painfully hard because of you.

His hand is wrapped tightly around his dick, thrusting up and down in a slow motion, not wanting to rush the film that’s going through his head right now. Picturing you doing all kinds of dirty and devilish things with him, thinking about your lips wrapped around his dick while his mouth would devour your pussy, giving you the best hard yet passionate sex you could ever have. His other hand travels behind his neck, helping him get more comfortable as his head is now thrown back, his eyes still shut - dreaming about you. His breath turns erratic as he starts pumping himself harder and faster now, like he is pumping life into his veins and he can’t stop. He growls as he pictures you on top of him, straddling him and jumping on his dick - oh, how he wishes that dream would become reality.

He tries his best not to moan loud at the feeling he’s giving himself and the obscene thoughts he’s having. His mind rushes, silently praying that you would walk through the door and help him chase his orgasm. But just knowing that you’re on the door next to his room, is enough to make his stomach swirl, feeling dirty by doing it while he’s thinking about you, without you even dreaming of it.

He sustains a moan as his hand speeds up, anxious to cum. He finally breathes out when he feels the bubble in his stomach burst. He cums in his stomach, disappointed that he didn’t get to cum anywhere on your body, like he wishes so badly. He grabs a towel and cleans himself before going to the bathroom and quickly shower to get rid of the dirtiness he made - he wishes he could get rid of the thoughts surrounding his head, but that won’t go away with any shower.

He goes to bed, as he feels lighter after hitting his high and falls asleep in a few minutes.

But his mind is always playing tricks on him, even when he is sleeping.

There’s an image splattered on his mind, dreaming about going out with you - on a proper date. You look so beautiful in his dream, wearing a red dress that is making him feel things already. Rúben starts moving on the bed, his waist searching for you, for the way you’re sitting on his lap in his dream. He starts breathing heavily as he pictures you two making out in such a dirty way. He needs that feeling, he desperately can’t wait to put his mouth on you, needy to taste you, to feel you, to devour you.

His dream proceeds, and now you take a seat on his face, gripping on his hair as he eats you out like he’s starving for you. His mind recreates the sound of your moans - how he thinks you would sound like. He feels hot while he’s still in a deep sleep, not wanting to wake up and ruin the scenario. His hands are all over you, holding you still as his tongue plays with your wet pussy. You reach out and start stroking his hard dick before putting him on your mouth. You lay your body on his, completely 69ing each other. He takes the opportunity and slaps your ass - now in full view in front of his eyes.

The feeling he’s having is too much to bear, his dream looking so real right now that it could drive him insane. He wakes up with his alarm ringing - it’s 8 am already. He’s sweaty and hot from the nasty dream he just had. He tries to compose himself, breathing in and out, when his hand goes to his bulge and he gets a sticky sensation. He came in his boxers, during the night - the movie playing in his head being too much for him to hold it in. He sighs, ashamed that he actually had a wet dream like he was still a teenager.

He goes to the shower, his mind still thinking of all the dirty things you two could do together. You’re in the kitchen having breakfast, he saw you before entering the bathroom, so he can’t feed those thoughts any more right now. He needs to get them out of his mind, and his growing dick needs to calm down. So, he decides to take a cold shower, hoping that would ease his heartbeat too.

His days have been like this, it has become a routine already. He’s been having wet dreams with you nearly every night, even after he masturbates before going to sleep. It’s actually driving him insane, but he doesn’t feel brave enough to tell you, to hit on you - he would do it to any other girl, but not to you. You’re different and he feels that in his chest. He doesn’t want to just get you in his bed. He wants you, entirely. He’s falling for you.

“Are you planning on going to Jack’s party tonight?” - you ask Rúben while you two are having lunch together, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I think me and boys will show up” - he informs you. “What about you?”

“Me and the girls are going too” - you say with a smirk. - “I’m going to start getting ready after we eat.”

Rúben’s face shows a confused expression now. “Y/N? It’s 1pm. You know the party only starts at 10pm, right?” - he confirms.

“Duh, of course I know that. But I want to look good, and perfection takes time” - you laugh.

“You always look great, you don’t need much” - he confesses, being completely honest with you.

“Yeah but I want to look my best, who knows, I might find a hot guy at the party” - Rúben’s face falls when he hears your words. Yeah, find a cute guy to make out with - one that is not him.

He doesn’t respond and you look at him, trying to read him.

“Hey? What’s up with you? You went mute out of nowhere?” - you question.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just thinking of all the studying I still have to do before the party” - he lies.

You smile at him. “Don’t worry, I bet you’ll find a cute girl too. Maybe someone who studies business too, so you two can have private study sessions and all” - you giggle and Rúben just fakes a smile.

He doesn’t want a girl who studies business, like him. He wants a girl who studies law, who's perfectly balanced, has the beauty and the brains he’s looking for. He didn’t have to search much to find her, since she lives in his house. He just wants you. He's never seen you act like this - you were never the kind of girl to go out every single night, matching Rúben in that matter. You two would only go out once in a while, but he never saw you talking about finding a guy to make out with. You are an extrovert and he loves your bubbly personality, you are always honest with yourself and the others and you always say what’s going on in your mind and in your heart.

His heart drops and his chest hurts, thinking about how oblivious you are of his feelings towards you. It’s not your fault, obviously, he doesn’t have the nerve to confess his love for you and that’s all on him. He feels down for the rest of the afternoon, trying his best to focus on studying, but he just feels so disappointed at himself, for not having the courage to ask you out. He can’t bear the thought of you making out with some other dude, so he just prays that you two would go different ways at the party, and not see each other again until you get home.

While you were choosing the perfect outfit to go out, you called your best friend. She keeps insisting that Rúben is a hot dude and that you should enjoy the time you spend alone with him at home more.

“Is Rúben your pair for tonight’s party? Are you two gonna dance with your bodies glued to each other?” - your friend asks on the other side of the line, you know she really means it.

“Of course not. He will be with his friends and I will be with you girls. Plus, I already told you that I don’t think that messing with him is a good idea. We live together and I don’t want to lose my room again” - you try to reason with her.

“What if you mess with him and things turn out alright? You’d still lose your room, only to move in to his own” - your best friend really tries to convince you that having sex with your housemate is actually a good idea.

“Girl, that’s not even a thing. Nuh uh, that won’t happen” - you firmly decline.

“Just admit that you fancy him, please! This is getting tiring already” - she notes.

After some moments of silence, you decide to give in. “Of course I think he’s crazy hot, I have two eyes on my face that see him walking around the house wearing only some shorts” - you remember. “But I think he fancies someone else. I’ve heard him moaning once, he was probably touching himself… and I’ve noticed that his routine has been a little strange lately” - you continue speaking on the phone.

“Oh my god! Hearing your housemate touching himself is actually insane! God he’s so fucking hot Y/N, I would die to hear him moaning” - your friend loses herself in her dialogue, too focused on picturing Rúben in the scenario that you just described to her.

“Babe, just stop, please. I literally just told you that I think he likes someone else” - you answer, your mood drowning a bit by imagining him with another girl.

“How do you know that, bitch? He’s probably jerking himself off to the thought of you, duh! You’re beautiful as fuck and you’re working your ass off to become a successful lawyer, you have the beauty and brains bestie, I would be surprised if that man didn’t fall for you” - she calls you out, and her words echo in your head.

Could there be a small chance of Rúben fancying you? Your heartbeat accelerates by just thinking of it, you don’t have the courage to face the guy who you share your house with, and confess how hot you think he is, and how much it tortures you to see him walking through the house with just a towel wrapped around his waist. There’s no way you can actually do that, so you would rather just find a random guy that seems decent enough for you to flirt with him and get some action, even if it’s just some kisses.

You asked Rúben if he could wait for you to keep you company on the way to the party, not really feeling like walking in the middle of the night all by yourself. He can’t say no to you, so he was in the living room waiting for you, and his jaw dropped when he saw you. You looked so gorgeous, wearing a red dress like the one he saw you with in his dreams - could this be a sign or something? Rúben doesn’t believe in any of that, so he just shrugs his thoughts away, and looks at how beautiful you look.

“You look stunning” - he says with a shy smile.

You smile back at him. “You look hot as well. I bet hundreds of girls will beg you to get in their pants” - you laugh, trying to hide your feelings and Rúben doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just talks about how you two should get going.

Once you two arrive at the party, you and Rúben split, you decide to go meet your girls while Rúben joins his football team members.

Through the night, both you and Rúben act similar, even if you’re not by each other’s side. The two of you decide to have some drinks to cool down from the anxiety forming in your stomachs.

You feel anxious so you try to have some fun and really find a cute guy who could make out with you for a while. You don’t go out every weekend, but now you feel needy and desperate to take some risks.

Rúben feels anxious because he knows what you’re looking for tonight. And it pains him that he’s not the guy you’re looking for. You could have him, all of him. He would do anything for you, he would never turn you down, and yet, he’s not the one you’re looking for.

You both take a couple rounds of shots with your friends, mixing beer with other drinks that you don’t ever know what they actually are.

When Rúben decides to go back to the bar to grab another drink, he freezes at the sight in front of him. He catches you kissing a random guy he’s never seen in his life, his hands driving through your hips, getting dangerously close to your ass, while his tongue is entirely inside your mouth.

He feels his blood boiling right now, closing his firsts in a ball, clenching his jaw, unable to control his anger at what he’s watching. He turns away and exits the party, leaving you behind with your newfound “friend” and your activities.

Rúben gets home quickly, his feet moving fast by the way his anger is fuelling his entire body now. He knew damn well that you were trying to find a fling at that fucking party, the only thing he silently begged was for you to spare him, so he didn’t have to see you with another guy that wasn’t himself.

He enters his room, slamming the door behind him, trying to find a way to alleviate the strong feeling in his chest.

He is sad, disappointed and he hates what he saw. Rúben is a possessive guy, and jealousy is all he can feel right now, wanting to punch that prick's face. It should be him that you were kissing, not a random dude.

His breathing itches when his mind starts making up scenarios of potential things that could happen once you get home. Would you go to his room, searching for him? Maybe you would tell him how much you regret kissing that boy. Maybe you two would finally confess your feelings to each other? Rúben feels so jealous now that he just wants to show you how he could be everything you need and more. He wants you to regret kissing another boy when you could have kissed him instead all this time.

He goes back to his routine, maybe having a release would help him remove all the tension on his body right now. He lays on his bed, taking deep breaths as his bulge is already aching in his pants. He quickly removes his clothes, not in the mood to take it nice and slow. He’s angry, jealous, fuming at the thought of you with someone else.

He anxiously touches himself, already feeling the protruding veins in his cock and stroking himself fast, imagining how sex would feel like if he was punishing you after what you did. How you would moan and sigh when he would fill you up, roaming inside of you, feeling your wet and warm pussy around his cock, your juices mixing up with his already.

His hand works fast and hard on his dick, he doesn’t control himself as he starts moaning loudly at the feeling - he was sure that he was home alone, you would probably still be at that stupid party, or even in that guy’s bed already.

His mind went blank at how excruciatingly hard his dick is in his hand, precum already dripping down his shaft.

You walk inside the house, stumbling a bit on your own feet, feeling a little tipsy because of the few drinks you had at the party. Your chest feels heavy, you truly feel guilty after kissing a random guy while Rúben was the only one in your mind the entire time. You should have gained the courage to talk to him, to shoot your shot. When you realized that he had already left the party, you immediately went home to find Rúben - praying that he actually decided to go home.

But he doesn’t hear the door open, too lost in his thoughts and sounds, absolutely enticed by his moment. You walk inside the house and hear him moaning - your heart sinking at the thought of him actually having another girl over.

You carefully walk through the corridor, getting closer to his bedroom door. His sounds get louder and more consistent, and you stop next to his door, trying to understand if he’s alone or with someone else.

The way you only hear Rúben moaning and breathing heavily, makes you realise that he’s alone - probably touching himself like crazy. The thought of being so close to him while he’s jerking off is enough to make your legs weak, already feeling your pussy throbbing at how erotic he sounds. The alcohol in your blood was already making you feel brave enough to talk to him about how you feel, but hearing him groaning at the way he’s touching himself… that is definitely making you desire him like crazy. You need him, you want him, and you’re going to shoot your shot.

You decide to open the door to his bedroom, your hand shaking as you turn the handle open. Your eyes land on Rúben, sprawled on his bed, with his hand tightly wrapped around his hard cock. He stops stroking his dick momentarily when he sees you, his mouth slightly agape, shocked and slightly embarrassed that you’re in his room, seeing him like this. But he’s also feeling brave tonight, and he starts stroking his dick again while he makes eye contact with you.

You share a look in silence, eye fucking each other at this point. His hand doesn’t stop moving in his dick, but it starts slowing down as you walk closer to him.

“I was looking for you” - you breathe out.

“Oh yeah? Did your friend turn you down after shoving his tongue in your throat?” - he answers bitterly.

“No… I just wish it was your tongue exploring my mouth, instead of his” - you confess while sitting in his bed, next to him.

You could see the sparks in his eyes igniting at your words, and he stays silent, trying to think of the right thing to say.

Your index finger carefully travels through your bodies, sliding up his dick, gathering his juices in your tip. You open your mouth, placing your finger inside and sucking on it, tasting how Rúben feels hot and sweet at the same time.

He groans at the sight in front of him and completely loses it. He grabs your face and finally kisses you hard and passionately, his tongue now fighting for dominance with yours, exploring every corner of your mouth - like he was supposed to all along.

You move so you’re now straddling him, your dress already pulled up, while Rúben’s hands discover your body. You can’t stop kissing each other, needing the other one so badly, making out in a dirty and raw way, with saliva already dripping down your chin. You moan into his mouth as you grind your hips on his dick, the thin fabric of your panties being the only thing separating you two right now.

He pulls your dress off of your body, admiring you and kissing every inch of skin that his lips could find as his hands keep travelling your body. He looks at you shocked when his lips find your boobs and he realizes you have a nipple piercing - something he never even imagined you could have, and it’s doing wonders to his mind. You smirk at his reaction and pull his head between your tits more, encouraging him to play with the metal piece between your nipple.

His mouth wraps around your nipple, sucking on it while his tongue draws circles around it. Rúben is desperate to touch you, he needs to feel you, he needs to make sure that you are real, that you are really here with him, naked in his bed like he’s been dreaming all this time.

“Do you know for how long I have been dreaming about this?” - he says, breathless from all the kissing.

“Oh, is that right?” - you say seductively, as you keep moving your core against his hard dick.

“Fuck, I’ve been dying to kiss you since I first met you. I’ve been having these fucking wet dreams about touching you like some horny teenager. I want you so badly, Y/N” - he confesses, his hands secured on your hips.

“Oh, yeah?” - you say as you get up from your spot on his lap.

You take off your panties slowly, without never breaking eye contact with Rúben, putting on a show for him.

He looks at you hungrily, like he’s already devouring you in his mind.

“Let me give you a taste of what you’ve been missing, baby boy” - you say as you sit on his face.

Rúben’s tongue is already working on you, licking your folds like a cat. Your hand immediately wraps on his hair, as the other goes to help you hold yourself up against the headboard. You moan at the vibrations his mouth sends through your body, unable to control your sounds.

You grind your pussy on his face, completely riding his mouth now, and you moan breathlessly at the way his tongue devours you while his nose keeps hitting your clit on purpose, making you shake with a crazy amount of pleasure.

You notice Rúben’s reaction to your moans, as his hand leaves your hip and wraps around his dick, still painfully hard from being so turned on and not getting a release. He starts pumping himself while he eats you out, you look back to see the sight and moan at the view. You can’t stop thinking about how you two look like a recreation of a movie, looking so erotic and needy for each other.

His lips wrap around your clit now, sucking on it and making you scream out of pleasure. The way he’s devouring your cunt makes it almost unbearable for you to hold your orgasm inside, and seeing the way he is touching himself like crazy to you, makes the bubble in your stomach burst. You cum on his face, riding him more to chase your high, the feeling he’s providing you being unmatched to anything you’ve felt before.

Rúben moans underneath you, his mouth still on your pussy, collecting all your juices in his tongue, tasting you entirely. His hand speeds up and he cums some minutes after as well, groaning at the feeling of finally having a release. You get up from your seat on his face, allowing him to breathe properly now, his nose, mouth and chin drenched in your cum. The sight of Rúben lying under you, still tasting your juices and his stomach dirty with his own cum, was enough to make your cunt throb again, wanting to feel him more.

“You taste insanely delicious” - Rúben says in a hazy state, completely high off you.

“Better than in your dreams?” - you tease him with a smirk.

“Fuck, way better. I can’t believe this is actually real” - he laughs, still trying to catch his breath.

“I need to feel you, Ruby” - you say in a needy voice, using his favorite pet name that he told you about in one of your conversations.

He takes a condom out of his bedside table, kissing you again passionately as he wraps it on his dick - already hard again, you being an absolute menace to his libido. Rúben lays you on the bed, towering over you now, as he looks at you with love and fire in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly next to you while you wrap your legs around his hips. He kisses you sweetly and carefully before slowly entering you. You both moan into each other’s mouth, still kissing with your bodies glued now.

He thrusts slowly into you, wanting to take his time and enjoy all the feelings he’s getting from this moment with you.

You moan when he fills you up nicely and easily, not really believing this is happening either.

“You feel so good, baby, fuck” - he groans into your ear as his mouth is now leaving kisses on your neck. You pet his hair gently, not really having words to describe the energy and the connection between you and your housemate.

“I need more, Rubes, please” - you beg him to go faster, needing to cum again on his dick now.

Your wish is his command, he could never say no to you. He picks up the pace, going faster inside of you right now, leaving open mouth kisses on your nipple again - the piercing still driving him insane.

“Fuck, you’re so good Rubes, you fuck me so good” - you breathe while your nails scratch his back at the sensations he’s providing you.

The sounds coming from your wet pussy fill the room, along with the moans and heavy breaths that you two share.

Rúben feels your walls clenching around him, and his thumb goes to play with your swollen clit, his dick now roaming inside of your cunt, desperate to cum again too.

He could lose all his composure just by listening to your sounds, going crazy at the way you feel so wet and warm, your cunt desperately clenching around his dick. Plus, you look so beautiful to him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head out of pleasure, while he hears you moaning so erotically and whispering incoherent words, completely fucked out of your mind. He loves knowing that he’s the one making you feel like this, giving you this much pleasure. He can’t stop feeling cocky at the way his girl is sprawled on his bed, begging him to fuck her harder and faster so she can cum on his cock.

His thumb doesn’t stop bullying your puffy clit and you can’t hold it any longer.

“I’m not gonna last, Rub-“ - you cry out, the pleasure being unbearable right now.

“Cum for me, baby girl. Cum on my cock, I need to feel you cumming around me” - the dirty talk could send you straight to heaven.

And your body obeys. You cum, moaning his name over and over again, your pussy pulsating around his dick, encouraging him to cum as well. After a few more strokes, Rúben fills his condom with his seed, breathing heavily at the feeling you both just shared. He collapses on top of you, his head now buried on your neck, leaving sweet kisses on your skin as you both try to catch your breaths.

You hug him tightly, not really knowing what to say, and you both stay like this, enjoying each other’s touch. Soon, you both fall asleep, the alcohol in both of your bloods and the tiredness from the previous events knocking the two of you out in a matter of minutes.

The next morning, you wake up wrapped in Rúben’s arms. You feel safe, protected, it feels right. The sun is shining, warming up your face and Rúben slightly moves in his place, pulling you closer to him.

“Good morning” - he says in his deep morning voice.

“Hey” - you say back with a smile. He kisses your shoulder while hiding his face in your neck, taking in your scent, not believing that last night was real, not wanting to let you go out of his embrace.

You turn around so you’re facing him now. The two of you giggle at each other like true teenagers who just fell in love.

His hand goes to caress your cheek sweetly, looking at you with all the love in the world.

“Hope you don’t regret last night” - he says honestly.

“The only thing I regret from last night is kissing another random guy, instead of kissing you earlier” - you confess with a smirk on your lips.

He laughs softly at your words.

“How could I regret anything? Really, I only regret not knocking on your door sooner… I’ve been thinking about you a lot for the past weeks” - you continue speaking.

“Well, guess we can say that I’ve literally been dreaming about you a lot” - he says with a laugh, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red now.

“I had a dream of us going out on a cute date” - you tell him, reaching out to give him a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Really?” - he looks surprised that you’ve been feeling the same way as him for the last couple of weeks. “I guess I should turn that dream into reality, then” - he kisses your hand lovingly.

“I would love that… I’ve been trying to shut my feelings out for you, I didn’t want to mess with my housemate and end up without a place to sleep, again” - you confess.

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen” - he says with a soft smile. “I’ve been hypnotized by you since the first time I saw you, Y/N… it’s been killing me to drown in my feelings all the time because I didn’t have the courage to confess how I felt towards you. I am in love with you, I really am. I think you’re the most beautiful, caring, funny and intelligent girl I’ve ever met. We get along so well that I can’t stop thinking about how I want this forever. I want our movie nights forever, I want to take you on cute dates, I wanna share this house with you without having to hide away from you, literally when I have a boner because of you, or emotionally when I feel jealous or like choking on my feelings because I wanted to blurt them out and I couldn’t. I don’t wanna hide anymore. This is me, with my good parts and my bad parts as well, and there's nothing more I want than for you to take me as I am. Because I for sure will take you as you are, through the good and the bad, I want to have you by my side forever, as I promise you to always be by your side as well” - he breathes after finally letting his feelings show.

You smile widely and kiss him once again.

“It’s hard not to fall for you, Rubes, I wish you could see you through my eyes” - you kiss him again, unable to stop. You can’t believe you have Rúben all to yourself.

You two start making out again, smirking at each other and giggling between kisses.

“I just hope you want more amazing sex like the one we had last night” - you wink at him as your hand is already palming his dick, hungry for him once again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me” - he sighs as you two wrap yourselves between Rúben’s bed sheets again, truly on cloud nine from finding out that love can actually be closer than you think. In this case, it was under the same roof, right next door.

#ruben dias #ruben dias x you #ruben dias oneshot #ruben dias smut #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #roommate!rúben

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seobsroot · 1 day

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GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THOSE BOOKS

summary: lee heeseung loves to annoy you while you do your work, it all goes south when you have to tutor him

contains: nerd x secretly smart guy who acts stupid just to get close to them, gn reader

you opened your textbook and got out your notebook and got ready to start to answer the questions. you heard the chair beside you move back and you already knew who it was. “y/nnnn heyyyy.” he said in a sing-song voice and you rolled your eyes. “hey heeseung.” you spat and he frowned.

“don’t be like that y/n. what are you working on?” he peered at you and you looked up from the limitless amount of words on the page. “the book questions. what you also should be working on.”

you’re probably wondering why you’re being so mean to him, it’s only because he doesn’t know how to leave you alone. unlike some people, you cared about your grades and getting your work done. “oh really? when is it due?” he asked and you huffed. “in 3 days.” he nodded and looked at your page. “how much do you have left?” you held up 3 fingers to indicate 3 more questions.

“wait how many did we have to do?” is his serious. this was assigned last week and he’s had all the time in the world. “20.” you replied and he nodded. you knew he was about to say something else and you shook your head, “no more questions.” he frowned and pulled out his phone when the teacher came up to him.

“heeseung. you’re failing this class.” he acted shocked, but he knew this was gonna happen. ever since he started noticing you, he stopped doing his work. he knew you were the top student in the class and he knew if he could fail at one point, he could finesse a tutoring session. “y/n. i hate to do this to you with your busy schedule, but do you think you could tutor him?” you sighed and nodded.

heeseung was jumping with joy on the inside at your agreement. you set up for the session to be thursday at 3:30. he was ecstatic waiting for the day. when the day rolled around he swore he raced in his car to your house. he had to act all nonchalant when he walked up to your door. he took a deep breath and knocked. “one second!” you shouted and soon showed up.

when you opened the door and he was shocked at what he saw. he was so used to seeing you all dressed up everyday at school, no wrinkles in your clothes. to see you in an oversized tee shirt and some basketball shorts. he still thought you looked beautiful and he walked inside.

“do you want any water or something?” he trailed behind you and said a quiet no. you ended up in your dining room. he looked around to see baby pictures, family pictures, and other things. he smiled at you in one of the pictures of you on the beach under the sand. “hey. let’s get out your stuff yeah?” you snapped him out of his thoughts and he nodded.

he pulled out his science book and go to work. he secretly already knew how to do this, but having you teach him how to do it made it all the better. halfway through, he honestly just stopped listening to you. he started staring at you and you stopped talking. “are you listening to me?” you tapped him and he shook his head.

“what’s the point of being here if you’re not gonna listen?” you shook your head in disappointment and he lightly touched your face. “can i kiss you?” he asked and you stared at him and slowly nodded. he was crashing his lips against yours. his lips were so soft and delicate. you deepened it more by putting both of your hands on his cheeks. his cheeks started to flush and you felt them.

you let off of him and he was still blushing. “that was nice” he said breathless. “you never needed help in the first place did you?” he shook his head no. “i actually know how to do all this stuff already. i just wanted to get you to notice me.” he admitted and you laughed. you leaned in to kiss him again. “well lee heeseung, you could of just said that.”

this might be my longest thing i’ve wrote

#fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #imagines #scenarios #heeseung fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung #heesung enhypen #lee heesung x reader

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yoonivy · 3 days

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my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 2.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, eventual smut. it’s a y/n fic but no use of y/n. heavily inspired by taylor swift’s ‘ivy’.

When a fierce blizzard ravages the North, a certain dragon rider gets caught up in it and crashes onto Bear Island.

And right to you, the youngest daughter of House Mormont.

warnings. no warnings yet!

wc. 9k+ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09

“Well look who finally decided to show up!”

Forrest leans on the wooden gate of the training yard, a smirk on his face as he watches the two approaching adolescents. Braeden and Jorah join him as well, curious as to what took you so long. You pout at their obvious stares, amused as they glance between you and the boy by your side.

“I had to ask Maester Garland if Aemond is well enough to walk around outside,” you let them know, now on the other side of the gate.

Braeden hums, turning to Aemond with a friendly smile. “Mornin’ Little Prince.”

Aemond politely greets all your brothers a good morning as well.

“I like the new look, Ae,” Forrest compliments, pointing at his own eye when Aemond turns to him.

“Whoa, it’s just like Butcher Pate’s!” Jorah exclaims excitedly. He put his thumb up out, adding with a resolute nod, “It looks great!”

You and your two other brothers snicker at Jorah’s usual strangeness, while Aemond shyly accepts the compliments.

You hear your name being said, and you glance in slight shock at the one who said it, “-- made it for me,” Aemond says, then throws a small smile your way. Though your heart warms, you feel like you are still dreaming. You still can not believe how fast things have changed. Aemond went from completely ignoring you for weeks , to now smiling genuinely at you and actually knowing and saying your name.

“Yeah, well, you know, it’s nothing. I mean, I just did the embroidery like I told you earlier, Dorothea is the one who did most of the leatherwork – all of it, actually – but I was kind of guiding her the whole time…” you babble, clearly so flustered that it’s you that your brothers are laughing at now.

You glare, about to snap at them, but someone beats you to the punch.

“Shall I just cancel today’s training? Cause you lot are just wasting my precious time,” a man with salt and pepper cropped hair says gruffly, appearing behind your brothers and towers over them. Aemond takes a hard swallow at the sight of him, his rough appearance could scare anyone and anything – who doesn’t know him better.

Forrest bellows out a laugh. “Your precious time you can be spending flirting with Darcy at the tavern?”

Ser Gregory starts blushing so red that even his full beard cannot hide it. “What did I say about spreading gossip, boy?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Jorah muses. “That Ser Gregory found someone so lovely at his old age.”

Braeden smacks the back of his head, but Ser Gregory just chuckles knowing that the boy means no harm by it. “I– Thank you, Lord Jorah.”

“We’ll stop wasting your time,” Braeden says, opening the gate that Forrest had been leaning on earlier. “Come then, little cub, little prince.”

You and Aemond glance at each other, and he makes a small gesture, letting you walk in first. You bow slightly at him before you do.

As he walks in after you, Aemond feels the eyes of Ser Gregory staring him down. He glances up cautiously, meeting the older man’s astute gaze.

“So you are the Dragon Prince who fell from the sky, hmm?” Ser Gregory questions but does not give Aemond a chance to answer when he adds, “I heard many things about you.”

Forrest must have caught the petrified look on Aemond’s face because he laughs goodnaturedly and says, “Don’t worry, all good things.”

Ser Gregory grumbles. “Most good, some–”

Your face twists, silently begging him not to mention anything – that he had found you one night in a hidden corner of the keep, sobbing after another freeze out from the prince.

So he changes the subject, asking the prince instead, “Will you be joining us for training today?”

“The Maester said he shouldn’t,” you relay. “His ribs are not healed enough to do anything too physically demanding.”

Then Aemond lifts his arm, still in a sling. “And my arm… I cannot fight without both.”

“Ey? Is that right?” Ser Gregory’s usual deep tone says an octave higher, clearly tickled. He shrugs the cloak off his shoulders, revealing the long sleeve of his left arm folded and pinned up. Aemond’s mouth parts in a gasp then shuts it tight, trembling as he realizes he had just offended the armless man. “Shall I not fight anymore? Would the training I provide for you lot all be for naught?”

“Oh, Ser Greg, don’t be like that! You know he did not mean any harm by it,” Forrest says with a roll of his eyes, waving his hand after Aemond murmurs a very soft apology, the young boy unable to look the swordsman in the eye.

Ser Gregory grunts roughly, turning on his heels and begins to walk away, to where the others are training. It is his way of letting you all know to follow. Jorah stalks after him, then Forrest (who gives a shrug to Aemond), and then finally Braeden after he tells Aemond not to worry, that Ser Gregory is always unpleasant at the start but he’ll warm up to him soon.

Alone with Aemond once again, you turn to him. “Braeden’s right. Ser Gregory is just… very protective of us. But he is as sweet as he is tough! He is one the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms, if not the best!”

Aemond almost blurts out that Ser Criston Cole holds that title, but he bites his tongue, not wanting to cause anymore trouble.

“You can watch from over there,” you tell him, pointing at the wooden benches at the far side of the training yard, closer to where the action is. The two of you start walking together, while you keep talking, “With Dorothea and her friend, Renee. She talks a lot but she’s fairly nice… She fancies Forrest but I don’t think Forrest likes her back like that. I don’t know why ‘cause she’s by far the prettiest girl on Bear Island… Well, after Dorothea of course...” Your mouth quirks down and you shrug, stopping when you are closer to where Ser Gregory and your brothers are. “I guess I’ll see you after training!”

“Okay,” Aemond hums. “See you soon…”

With that, the two of you part ways. You to your brothers, and Aemond goes to join Dorothea at the benches.

“Good morrow, Prince Aemond,” Dorothea chirps with a smile when she sees him approaching. She scoots over a bit, instructing her friend to do the same, giving Aemond room to sit beside her. “You look quite handsome with your new eye patch!”

Aemond blushes. “Thank you… For crafting it for me.”

She waves her hand. “It’s no trouble. You really have to thank my little sister. She pestered me until I could not say ‘no’ anymore.”

The pretty ginger girl beside Dorothea leans across her, pushing her way through the conversation, “So you must be the Targaryen Prince! It is so wonderful to meet you! I’m Renee, by the way, my father’s the tanner that made the leather of your eyepatch! It looks amazing on you! How is it like down south? Is it as beautiful as the tales I’ve heard? What of King’s Landing? Is it nice to grow up there? It must be, the North’s cold is so awfully dreadful —”

Dorothea chuckles to herself, giving Aemond an apologetic smile. Knowing he won’t get a word in until Renee wears herself out.

Eventually Aemond answers all her questions and while that happens, the training begins. The three of them watch you, your brothers, and Ser Gregory in rapt attention. Though Aemond finds himself keeping a closer eye on you than the others.

Although you are not as coordinated as your older brothers, you can still hold your own. He would even dare say you are as good as his younger brother Daeron and definitely better than his older brother Aegon. It makes him wish he was not injured, so he can pick up a sword and challenge you to a duel. Another time, perhaps.

Aemond’s daydreaming gets interrupted when the training also gets interrupted, by three soldiers approaching you and your brothers. “Lord Braeden!”

As they talk to your oldest brother, Aemond overhears a couple words being said.

Dragon. Back. Clearing.

Aemond stands up suddenly, just as Braeden looks over at him and shouts, “Little Prince! It seems your dragon has returned!”

---

The trek back to the clearing you had found Aemond and his dragon is a lot easier now than that first night. You, your brothers, and even Ser Gregory accompany the young prince to her, the dragon you had learned is named Vhagar.

Aemond had asked your family to keep an eye out for her. He was worried when she had been gone for so long, but now he guesses she was just flying around the North, perhaps hunting for food.

When you once again step foot in the clearing she had made herself, Vhagar huffs out. Though this time, she seems relieved, seeing her little dragon prince in one piece and standing tall.

You are in awe at the sight of her. That night you first saw truly did not do justice to how magnificent she really is.

“She is the largest and oldest dragon in all of Westeros,” Aemond says proudly, beaming at the look on your face.

“Whoa… Then you must be very special to be the one riding her, huh, Ae?” Forrest asks, in quiet disbelief that such a small boy has tamed such a mighty beast.

Ser Gregory grunts, but you can tell he is also awestruck.

There is a phantom pain that strikes Aemond’s right eye, a reminder at what it cost to get Vhagar. He flinches with a hiss, blinking back tears. Luckily everyone’s gaze was on the dragon, not noticing the tormented look on the young boy’s face. “Yes… I suppose so…”

Then he makes a move, walking towards his dragon.

Jorah is the first to try to follow, but Ser Gregory pulls him back from the collar of his shirt. “I will only allow the prince to see his dragon. The rest of you will stay here.”

You and your brothers all make noises of complaint, but ultimately, you listen to him. So with one final look back, Prince Aemond walks the rest of the way to his dragon, alone.

The familiar sight of Vhagar clenches at Aemond’s heart, realizing how much he misses his home. With a small coo, her head dips, allowing him to stroke her snout with his good hand.

“Have you been eating well?” He asks her. “I hope you have not been eating any of the bears on this island. That might anger the Mormonts, you know.”

Vhagar huffs, looking away in guilt, and that makes Aemond laugh. “It’s alright, I will not tell your secret. But no more!”

Vhagar’s head dips again, maybe in understanding, before she gestures it to the side, seemingly wanting for him to ride her. To fly back home.

Although he misses home, Aemond finds himself shaking his head.

He leans in and whispers to his dragon, “It’s okay, Vhagar. I…” He looks back, smiling to himself when he sees your family there, still waiting for him despite it being so cold, “I want to stay for a bit longer.”

As more days passed, the prince’s wish to stay a bit longer changed to a lot longer. And as the proposed date for him to travel home gets closer, the more he dreads it.

He loves his home, his family, don’t get him wrong. But these past month and half with the Mormonts has been one of the happiest times he has had in his life.

Aemond became fond of the rambunctious and joyous breakfast and dinners your family had every day. Likes that he can go to Braeden for anything, how Forrest can always make him laugh, that Jorah tells him all his silly fantasies, and that he is always one of the first people Dorothea goes to try out her new dessert recipes. He likes how your mother and father treat him like he is one of their own, how gentle Maester Garland is when treating him.

And like what you and your brother said, Ser Gregory eventually also warmed up to him. He learned a lot from the older swordsman, becoming much better at wielding just a sword without any shield. His footwork and dexterity also improved during the short time he had training with Ser Gregory.

But what he likes the most is, well… You .

He likes how you always seem to be the first person he sees in the morning, and last he sees at night. The way you would share all your favorite things with him, so excited all the time, that he starts to do the same. It makes him so happy how your eyes light up when he does so. You two become so attached to the hip that he wonders how he is going to go on without by his side when the time finally comes. How can he even smile ever again when your smiling face is not there for him to look upon?

All that – that has made him so happy, is also the reason he is so dejected on the morning he is to leave with your father and some of his men back home to King’s Landing. He has not even left yet, but he is already missing you and your family and the whole of Bear Island.

He does not realize it – too stuck in his own feelings – that he misses how silent the usually loud family breakfast is that morning. That he wasn’t the only one looking down at his plate, pushing the food around, appetite lost. You frown, trying to catch his eye, but he does not look up, also frowning down at his plate.

Aemond is so sulky, choosing to bolt to his chamber as soon as breakfast is finished that you do not even have the chance to talk to him at all today. He had even refused your visit to him in the early morning.

You take such a heavy sigh – one more appropriate for an elderly person who has had enough of the world instead of such a young girl like you – that Forrest can’t help but have a chuckle. You glare at him, but he soothes the frown on your face with the back of his knuckles. “Don’t worry, little cub. I’m sure Ae is just as sad as we are.”

But that sentiment makes you frown even deeper. You did not want him to be sad, you want him to always be happy.

Noon arrives and you find yourself standing with your family at the docks of Bear Island. Your father is already getting the ship ready, along with Ser Gregory and some other men – but the boy of the hour, Prince Aemond, is not even there yet.

Your brother, Forrest, volunteered to stay behind when the prince refused to come out of his room. He said to leave it up to him to get the prince out.

That was over an hour ago, and you are starting to get worried that Aemond will hole himself in that room and never come out. Though before you can really start, you hear your mother sigh with relief. “There they are.”

Turning, you follow her line of sight.

“Sorry for the wait!” Forrest calls out, the little prince running behind him, trying to keep up. There is a bag slung over your brother’s shoulder, and he addresses it a second later, “Just had to pack up all the little prince’s things.”

Aemond did not have many things when he fell on Bear Island – actually, he had nothing at all, even losing his eyepatch. All the clothes he wore during his time on Bear Island were Jorah’s and all of that were already returned yesterday. So that big bag he had packed… It must be all the gifts you had gifted him. Your heart swells at the thought. You even see the many paintings you had made for him in a roll, sticking out of the bag.

When they reach your family, that is when Aemond begins to bid farewell to everyone – one by one. It is sweet to watch just how close Aemond and each of your family members (and also those closest to your family) became. They laugh, they hug, they exchange words of promises to see each other someday soon — Septa Earla even cries, kissing both of Aemond’s cheeks.

Finally, it was your turn and when Aemond steps in front of you and faces you, you give him a wobbly smile and he gives you one just as unsure back. Stomach dropping, you can finally admit to yourself that you did want him to leave.

“You have to write to me,” you say, sniffing away the incoming tears. “I’m not asking. It’s a demand.”

Aemond chuckles, wetly. “Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise,” he says, then he licks his lips, also trying not to shed any tears. “I will write every day.”

This time, it’s your turn to laugh. “Every week will suffice. I don’t need to be spoiled.”

“But I want to,” he blurts out. Then shyly, he glances down and murmurs, “I will spoil you. I will send you as many gifts as you have given me.”

Your breath catches when he glances back up, looking determined now. “You have my word, Lady Mormont.”

“I hope you don’t think that giving gifts will make me go easy on you when we finally have our one-on-one duel,” you tease with a grin. “Because I know I can beat you with my eyes closed.”

It almost offends Aemond, almost. Then he realizes you were not being unkind or making fun of him like he is used to with his brothers and nephews. No, it was not like that at all. This is like a joke, shared between… friends.

That makes him laugh joyfully, smiling so big. “Alright, I do not wish for you to go easy on me. We will duel fairly when I visit again.”

“Soon?” You ask, hopeful.

He nods firmly. “Soon.”

And then you are hugging him. It takes him by surprise, staggering back slightly, but soon he is melting into it. The tightness in which you are hugging him hurts his still healing arm – already out of the sling – but he bites through the pain, wanting to hold you a bit longer.

Neither of you let go until you both hear Ser Gregory calling from the ship, letting everyone know that they are sailing soon.

It has Aemond squeezing you in his arms one last time, his heart heavy yet elated at the same time.

He truly is already missing you… His first real friend.

---

True to his word, you receive a raven from Aemond as soon as he is settled back home, a moon and a few weeks since his departure from Bear Island.

It is a short message – one can only fit so many words in the tiny raven scroll – but he writes that he already misses you and your family, that he made sure that his father sent a few of his best men to accompany your father back to the port that they had landed their ship at, and that you should be getting a proper, longer letter from him soon. It had confused you what he had meant, but a week after your father and Ser Gregory had returned, a man – who is definitely not dressed warmly enough for the weather of the North – arrives on Bear Island.

He comes bearing gifts and a long written letter from Aemond. Your father is in shock, it has been quite a long time since a courier had visited the island. The last time he can recall was when his mother, your grandmother, was still alive, and would have couriers coming to-and-fro from Highgarden, receiving letters from her friends and family back home. It is an expensive service, but the courier assured your family that the Queen had paid him handsomely for it, and that your House has no need to give anything else even though he will be waiting at the tavern inn to deliver back whatever you wanted to give the young Prince.

When Aemond said he’d spoiled you, he was not joking in the slightest. In the box that you had received from him were gifts of the finest qualities: oil paints in every shade of the rainbow, paint brushes of many shapes and sizes, and ink and varying quills for the letters you will write back to him, and a book that he writes is one of his favorites. There were gifts for your siblings as well, but you definitely got spoiled the most.

But your favorite thing that Aemond gave you is his letter. You find yourself going to the guest chamber he used to reside in, sitting on a stool beside the bed, pretending it is like the mornings when he was actually there, the conversations the two of you used to have before heading to break fast. As you read, you can hear his voice, as if he was there beside you.

Aemond writes about his first week back. Everyday, he was surprised with his favorite foods during meals. How his father actually spent some time with him in between his busy schedule. That even his older brother, Prince Aegon, was kind to him. He writes about how his sister loves the paintings you made – she even has one hanging in a golden frame in her bedchamber now. His mother wants to meet your family, and Ser Criston was impressed by what Aemond had learned from Ser Gregory. He wished you could have seen the friendly duel between the two warriors, how the cheers in the training yard during it could rival the cheers of an official tourney. In jest, Aemond says he will not reveal who the winner was. (Later, when you ask Ser Gregory, he tells you it was him, of course. You are not sure if you believe him.)

Aemond tells you other things, more mundane happenings in his day to day life, but you enjoy it all just the same. Then he ends the letter with how he is writing this under the heart tree within the Red Keep, pretending it is the one on Bear Island where he would accompany you when you wanted some peace and quiet away from your siblings.

It makes me happy being here , he writes, I often visit it now.

It makes me think of you.

I hope you are thinking of me too.

You go to the Godswood of your own home later, and sit by the Weirwood tree with the book Aemond gifted you. As you read, you smile to yourself, then look up at the sunlight that peeks through the limbs and branches of the tree. Beaming wider, you say to the sky, “I am.”

It goes like that for many moons.

Ravens and couriers going back and forth from King’s Landing to Bear Island. Letters after letters, gifts after gifts. You get embarrassed how homely the things you give Aemond are – all are just things you’ve made and not anything fancy at all like what he has given you – but he assures you that he loves it all. The letters, since there is an abundance, often came with no real substance or new story to tell but neither of you got bored, just content to receive anything from your friend.

But you have to admit, you are starting to get really lonely without your friend there with you. When you catch sight of your sister and Renee, Forrest and his training buddies, Braeden and his two best friends who he grew up with since he was a babe, and Jorah and the big group of friends he hangs out with… You feel so awfully alone.

You did not want to be greedy. Aemond is already doing so much. The letters, the gifts, the courier his family had hired… You were grateful for it all, but still, you could not help but write on the scroll you attached to the raven you send to him:

I wish you were here.

You don’t hear from him for weeks after that, which is odd. It has you scared you had creeped him out. Like you are a child throwing a tantrum for having your favorite toy taken away.

But then, just when you are about to lose hope, thinking you had lost your best friend… A dragon you instantly recognize, flies around overhead of the Mormont Keep before landing on the clearing that she now has claimed as her own.

Exhilarated, you and your brothers run to the clearing, meeting the prince just as Vhagar lands. You tackle him into the tightest hug, falling over in a heap on the ground when your brothers join in.

At his arrival, your mother has the housekeepers make up the guest chamber, though now it seems to be Aemond’s official bedchamber in your home. He brings with him a bag of clothes, and it has you asking if he is staying long which he nods and says yes. Your father and mother also question how long he is going to stay, and he tells them his mother says he can stay for a moon or two — without looking them in the eye. They found it odd, but who are they to go against the prince’s or the queen’s word?

It is all fun and games, you and Aemond are having the time of your lives — until the raven from the Queen comes just a week and half after he landed.

It seems Aemond had actually ran away – or more so, flew away — from home when his father and mother did not give him an answer fast enough for when he could go visit you. The queen writes that she wishes for him to come back home, and that when he returns, they will figure out a more proper visit.

Just like that, Prince Aemond being royalty is completely forgotten, and the mama bear in your mother comes out. She scolds him like how she scolds her own children, and you and Aemond are both crying at the end of it. He goes back home the next day, but before he does, your mother reassures him that she is still fond of him and he is always welcome back, but to never do that again, not without the permission of his parents. Understanding, he has his head dipped low as he hugs her goodbye, before turning to you to do the same.

Your parents and the Queen begin to correspond after that. They make a plan that the Queen will be the one to write the letter asking your parents if Aemond can visit for a couple days along with her official seal, and when your parents answer back with a confirmation, that is when she will allow Aemond to fly Vhagar to Bear Island.

Years pass like that. Letters coming in weekly, and Aemond visiting every three or so moons.

On the third year, you get word that Aemond will be visiting for a week to celebrate yours and his 16th name day together. It has been a yearly tradition since the two of you became friends, but this year… You think it might be a little bit different.

As you read the raven scroll he had written you – knowing that he is already on his way on his mighty dragon – a nervousness, like the wings of many butterflies, flutters in your stomach. You do not know how or even why it happened, but ever since his last visit two moons ago, you had begun to develop feelings for your best friend.

It is not like much has changed. He is still just Aemond. Perhaps a little bit taller, his voice breaking more often now and slightly deeper, and his hair longer – but that’s it.

Then again… Though he is still lean, he definitely looks a bit broader, the muscles in his arms more defined. You press your hand on your lower stomach when you remember the feel of his arms around you, a strange and unfamiliar heat there as you get dizzy at the thought.

That memory was not of a hug Aemond had given you. It was from his last visit, when you finally got the permission from your parents to be able to ride Vhagar with the prince. It was something you had been begging them to let you do for years, and they finally agreed, thinking you are old enough and that you had proven yourself responsible enough to do so. You remember Aemond’s hand clasped in yours, both running while laughing through the pathway of Vhagar’s clearing. Your two chaperons, Forrest and Ser Gregory, trailing far behind the two of you, there to make sure no one gets hurt. You recall the fond look on Aemond’s face when you stroke the scales on Vhagar’s face, the she-dragon purring at your touch.

“I think she likes you more than she likes me,” he had told you with his lopsided, winning smile. Then he lifted you up to help you climb up the netting onto the dragon’s mount, strong enough to do it on his own without your brother and Ser Gregory. He followed after you with practiced ease, sitting himself just behind you.

You were excitedly waving to Forrest and Ser Gregory when you felt Aemond lean in closer to you, his chest pressing against your back and his arms securely around you. That was when the nerves started to kick in and at the time, you thought it was because you were about to fly on a dragon for the first time. See the world from above for the first time. You had been sure that was the only reason why.

Aemond instructed you to hold onto the handles in front of you, while he grabbed onto the strap of the rope. Once you do and once Aemond made sure you are ready and good to go, both fastened to the saddle, he begun to command Vhagar to take off in High Valyrian.

And then the two of you are flying, high in the sky. It was so exhilarating. You had never felt anything like it before. You looked down on Bear Island, your home, and it looked like it was a part of the miniature, wooden villages that Maester Garland liked to craft in his spare time.

It made your heart soar. You felt so at peace, letting your eyes shut as the wind blew through your hair. You felt so safe in Aemond’s arms, not worrying at all that you were thousands of feet off the ground.

You remember looking back at Aemond, grinning, only to find him already looking at you. That same fond look he had given you earlier when you were petting Vhagar. It made you take an audible swallow. In that very moment, it seems like there was a shift between you and the dragon prince.

That was when he leaned in closer — so, so close, that you thought foolishly he was about to kiss you — but he turns his head and whispered in your ear instead, “I think I…” he stopped, licked his lips and tried again, “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

Ah… That’s it. That’s when it happened. You laugh to yourself now, thinking about sweet, naive, and younger by merely just a few moons you, thinking you are just going on an exciting dragon ride with your best friend, not knowing what will happen next. That those words that your best friend had said would replay in your mind over and over and over again; keeping you up at night, distracting everything you do, until you got butterflies in your stomach every time you thought of the small smile he gave you after he said those words.

And so here you are now, more nervous than excited for your best friend to arrive to celebrate your name days together, just because you had realized your stupid newfound feelings for him.

Before, you did not care for how you looked in front of anyone, let alone Aemond. But now, you’ve been pacing back and forth from the mirror standing beside your bed to your wooden closet, changing in and out of different dresses. Nothing looked right, nothing made you feel pretty enough. With a frustrated huff, you settled for a dark green dress — maybe in the back of your head, you wore it to pay tribute to Aemond’s mother side of the family, the Hightowers, and your own House.

Next, you decide to tackle your hair. Sitting down at the vanity, you take your hair brush in one hand and the other clenches in a determined fist. You always wore your hair down, unruly and wild. It is only when your mother or Septa Earla manages to catch you that you begrudgingly head back to your chambers to brush it and pin it back. Today, neither of them have to tell you anything, you want your hair to look nice and beautiful. But you are not at all practiced, and even the simplest braid you try to weave together looks wonky and weird. It is times like this that you wish you were more like Dorothea, all lady-like and proper and gorgeous, with a million suitors lining up to court her. Maybe then you wouldn’t even need to do all this for Aemond to return your feelings.

Sighing, you thread your fingers through your hair, letting the failure of a braid untangle and just letting your hair be loose yet neat. You look at yourself in the mirror, guessing that this would be the best you could do. You dare not ask Dorothea to help out because your sister is clever and she will certainly be asking questions about why you are trying so hard to look so… nice.

And you are not ready to have that talk with anyone yet. Or at all.

It must have been going on for at least a minute, but you are so in your head that you only hear the knocking on your door when it is accompanied by the voice that you had longed to hear — and now, the one that sets you up in a panic.

You shoot up from the chair — hitting your knee on the underside of the vanity in the process and thus knocking all the various little objects on your desk over as you curse out loud at the stabbing pain where you had hit yourself. A concerned call of your name can be heard from the other side of the closed door, and you answer back with ‘Just a second!’ as you scramble to straighten up all the things that fell over, before hurrying to the door.

When you open it, you are greeted with the handsome face of your best friend. The sight of him takes your breath away. Aemond has always been otherworldly looking – with his pale white hair and unique colored eye – but seeing him now, it really hits you how ethereal he really is. It has you staring dumbly at him, his own violet eye is set on you. He gives you a slow glance over; his pretty, pink lips quirking up in a smirk. Worriedly biting down on your own lip, you wonder how disheveled you look right now. Was all that fussing over your appearance and the million outfit changes all for nothing?

“So you did not welcome me when I arrived, and now I do not even get a ‘hello’?”

That has you snapping out of your thoughts, exhaling out a laugh as you jump forward to throw your arms around him. He catches you with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground, spinning you around. It has the two of you laughing, you into his neck while you feel him smile against the crown of your head. It has your heartbeat racing dangerously fast, and so when your feet touch the ground, you quickly take a step back to create a bit of distance from the prince. Just in case you do something that you will probably regret, the feeling of his lips on you had you wishing you could feel it elsewhere – everywhere else.

“I did not even know you’ve arrived,” you tell him, confused. “I’m sure I would have heard Vhagar… Did you travel here in a different way?”

Aemond laughs, shaking his head. “No, I came how I’ve always did… Jorah told me they’ve been calling for you as soon as they saw Vhagar flying in, but you did not answer.”

“Oh…” You murmur, giving him a crooked and apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’ve been a little…”

Aemond’s eye brow quirks in a silent question, peeking into your room and then grinning at the mess he sees inside, at the heaps of different colored dresses thrown carelessly on the floor. “... Preoccupied?”

Playfully glaring at him, you put a hand on his chest, pushing him backwards while also closing your door behind you with the other.

“Let’s go,” you say haughtily, walking ahead of him in a huff that has him laughing behind you. “You must be famished from the travel.”

Though before you can take another stop, Aemond clasps his hand around your elbow, forcing you to stop abruptly to look back at him in question.

“You look beautiful, by the way…” Is what he tells you. You nearly die on the spot with how your heart seizes at the way he smiles at you, all soft and shy, reminding you of the boy he once was and not the confident young man he has grown to be. “I just thought you should know.”

Does he even know how disarming he is? How he has taken a hold of your foolish, girlish heart without so much as trying?

You are not sure if you can keep yourself from doing something stupid in the next week, and it terrifies you because… It will probably ruin your friendship with your Targaryen prince forever.

Thankfully, you manage to keep your head on straight throughout the next few days, even though you spent ninety percent of your days and nights with the one causing you to lose it. You were quite proud of yourself that no sudden outburst of your feelings for him has slipped through your mouth – and that is a hard feat, since you are one to always say what is on your mind.

Aemond is none the wiser. After your initial nervousness around him, you are quick to get back to how you two normally are – thanks to his help. It’s nice to know that despite your changing feelings for him, you can always be yourself around Aemond.

On the morning of his name day, you head to training with your prince and brothers, all laughing and joking around. Forrest is mostly the butt of joke, since he is groaning and whining after eating too many pancakes at Aemond’s birthday breakfast.

Like every year since the tradition started of celebrating your name days together, on Aemond’s day, breakfast is grand to celebrate the prince’s life. But the real party is always celebrated two days after – during supper – when it is your name day. You are not at all mad to share the spotlight with the prince. In fact, it makes you even happier.

But this time, you are anxious about the upcoming celebration. Not about the party itself, but about the present you are planning on gifting Aemond. You have been going back and forth on it, and now it is already too late to really give him anything else. Besides, you can’t give him another set of knitted gloves, one that he could only use when he visits Bear Island because it’s too warm for it down south. So perhaps, you can whip up another painting of the prince on Vhagar’s back in two days…

“What’s on your mind?” Aemond asks, bumping his elbow on your side to grab your attention. “You’ve gone all quiet and… strange, again.”

“Strange…?” You question, nervously laughing. “What do you mean by that?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know… Just…” He sighs, shaking his head dolefully. “Nevermind.”

You really thought you had been acting normally, but maybe you had not been. You don’t know whether you should try to explain it to him or not. But before you can even make up your mind, you arrive at the training grounds, and Forrest is putting his arm around the prince’s shoulder, pulling him to where the new equipment and training dummies are set up.

Training begins and you still have not had the chance to talk to Aemond. You could hope you don’t look as miserable as you feel.

At least you weren’t alone in your misery.

Jorah is antsy beside you, mopey as well. Clearly not wanting to be there for various reasons. He had confided in you a few moons back that he just doesn’t enjoy sword fighting anymore, that he would rather spend his time at his apprenticeship with the tanner. He thought it was unfair that Dorothea had been given permission to opt out of training, but just because he is a boy, he had to keep it up.

Another reason for Jorah’s ire from training is that it’s the one place where he has to watch the girl of his dream clearly so smitten with someone who is not him. That someone being your older brother, Forrest.

Braeden joins you and Jorah – off to the side, away from everyone else – and laughs at the heated glare on Jorah’s face directed towards Forrest who is entertaining a group of pretty girls by the benches. You are frowning too, seeing Aemond by his side, also getting those kinds of looks from the girls.

“Chin up, little brother,” Braeden says, tapping his knuckles lightly under Jorah’s chin. Then he turns to you and does the same, “And, you too, little cub.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jorah huffs, eyes rolling off to the side, having had enough of all the flirting he had just witnessed. “Can I just go? I have more important things to do…”

It is Braeden’s turn to frown. “Look, I know you hate it but… You have to know how to fight. What if your future lady gets into trouble and you don’t know how? What if that ends up costing her life? And besides…” Braeden sighs, gesturing his head over to where the loud group of giggling girls are to prove his point, “Girls love a good warrior.”

Jorah rolls his eyes again, but can’t help but longingly look in that direction anyway – at the beautiful redheaded girl who is the reason he even started his apprenticeship at the tannery in the first place.

“You’re right,” Jorah says, patting Braeden’s chest before he starts walking towards the group with purpose.

You exchange a look with your oldest brother, muttering out, “Oh no…”

And then the two of you are after him, Braeden calling out, “Wait, that’s not what I meant–”

“Forrest!”

The noisy group immediately quieted down, all turning to see the man marching towards them with the most determined look on his face. Dorothea, who is sitting by herself just a few benches away from Forrest, Aemond, and her best friend, heaves a heavy sigh; face palming and whispers low to herself, “Oh boy… Here we go…”

Forrest grins, turning his body and giving his full attention to his youngest brother. “What is it, little br–”

“I challenge you–” Jorah points his wooden training sword towards Forrest, “– to a duel!”

There is a hushed murmuring throughout the training yard. Forrest looks a bit taken aback, but he is quick to recover, smiling wide with a cool shrug. “Sure, that sounds fun!”

Jorah scoffs at how easygoing his brother is, avoiding the questioning look from the girl who has his heart.

Ser Gregory breaks away from where he is training some of the younger kids, clapping his hand on his chest jovially at what he had heard. “Ey, finally! Something exciting!”

As your two brothers get ready for their match, you join the others that have gathered to watch, creating an impromptu circle around them.

“May I?” It is Aemond, asking if he could take the empty spot beside you.

“Of course,” you say like it is stupid for him to even ask.

He chuckles at your pout and way your brows drawn together, says under his breath as he stands beside you and looks ahead, “Bellus.”

You know it is Valyrian without even asking, but at this point in your friendship, you know better than to ask. Aemond usually only lets you privy to the translation of the words if he wants you to know, which is most of the time. But sometimes, there are words he likes to keep secret – you do not know why. You just hope it all means good things.

A loud cheering erupts as the match is set to begin. You and Aemond join in, though more subdued.

“Who do you think will win?” Aemond asks, slowly ceasing his clapping when your two brothers start clashing swords.

“I do not want to say it out loud,” you answer him. “But I think we both know.”

Aemond hums in agreement.

And just like that, as soon as the fight started, it was over in no time.

Forrest’s boisterous laughter fills the air and tells the young man glaring at the ground, “You’ll need to get better if you want to best me, my dear brother.”

He tries to give a hand to help up the defeated Jorah, but it gets swatted away.

“Well, that was…” Ser Gregory begins, eyeing Jorah as he hobbles away from the circle with Forrest catching up after him. “Interesting, yes… Anyone else? We are all here, anyway!”

The crowd murmurs, everyone looking around. That is when you feel movement beside you, and your eyes widen as you realize it was Aemond, stepping up to break out of the circle.

Ser Gregory bellows out a joyful laugh, “My prince, atta boy! And who will you be challenging?”

“I would like to challenge…” trailing off, Aemond smirks, clasping his hands behind his back, looking so regal and self-assured that you swear you could hear every girl in the crowd swooning. It has you making a face, trying so hard not to feel possessive jealousy but you could not help it.

“Lady Mormont.”

You do not know which was more unattractive; the grimace on your face or the way you gasped when Aemond turned to look back at you.

“Me?!” You gape at Aemond, looking at him like he had grown three heads.

He nods, the grin on his face saying ‘yes, you’.

“We’ve talked about this before, haven’t we? How one day we shall face-off to see which one of us is the better fighter?”

Yes, when we were children, you wanted to tell him. When I did not care if you would ever see me as something more.

Aemond’s head tilts, “Why not today?”

At this point you could not possibly refuse and back down. Everyone around you is already cheering you on. If Ser Gregory did not have appearances to keep up, you were sure he would be jumping up and down as he begs you pretty, pretty please to accept the prince’s challenge.

So that is what you do.

Looking Aemond straight in his violet eye, you say evenly and with a curtsy, “Then I accept your challenge, my Prince.”

It has him catching his breath, closely watching you as you walk past him to retrieve a wooden sword for the duel. It is not often that you call him by his title, but when you do…

Aemond’s hand flexes at his side, chuckling to himself, before he follows after you.

Getting yourself ready for the fight, you take a deep inhale, holding it in for a couple long seconds, and then exhaling out. It is an attempt to calm your nerves, but it did not really do the job. Instead what does is when you find your sister’s gaze in the crowd, her calling out that she’s rooting for you, and then Braeden’s right after, telling you to kick Aemond’s ass — ‘Respectfully,’ he adds, towards the prince.

That has you exchanging a laugh with Aemond, and he wets his lips before asking, “Are you ready?”

You take your place in front of him, both of you standing in the middle of the circle. “As I’ll ever be.”

When Ser Gregory gives the command to put your blades up and engage, neither you or Aemond make a direct move to go at each other. Instead, you both found yourselves circling the other, as if in a dance. There is a smug smirk on his face as he kept his eye on you, you did not know if you wanted to hit it off or kiss it off. Probably, both.

You know he will not be the one to make the first move, so instead of putting off the inevitable, you take the first strike. He dodges it with such grace that you cannot help but to be in awe, allowing him to counter with his own attack. Luckily, you were quick to block it, wooden swords clashing together with a loud clank . But he has the upperhand now, forcing you to retreat backwards with every parry of his sword against yours.

Getting closer and closer to the crowd, you knew you had to move away before you bump into any of them. So the next time Aemond swipes his sword, you duck under it, fleeing to move yourself back closer to the middle of the circle. He turns his heel so he can face you again, but that gives you a chance to be on the offense again. You slash, and slash, and slash, but each one is deflected. You knew you had to change your strategy, think quickly on your feet…

So you lunge forward, aiming at Aemond’s left shoulder. Just like you thought, he blocks it without much effort. But that left him open, and you kick your foot out, causing him to trip when your boot collides with his ankle.

He falls on his back, and you press the tip of your wooden sword on his chest. His eye slowly opens, staring into yours.

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but neither you or Aemond seem to hear, so focused on each other. As if you two were the only ones on that training field.

That is when it dawns on you what you had just done, the anxiety mixing in with the shortness of your breathing from the fight.

You so desperately wanted Aemond to see you as a lady. Someone pretty and delicate. Someone he can see a future with.

But here you are, knocking him off his feet, making him fall hard on his back with a groan – on his name day, as well!

What were you thinking?!

A million apologies fall out your lips as you crash on your knees beside him, mixed in with the bunch of times you asked if he was okay.

Though also exhausted and out of breath, Aemond laughs at your worrying. He takes your hand in his and softly says your name – that has you shutting up good.

“I assure you, I am fine,” he tells you as he holds your hand tighter, pressing it against his chest. You swear you can feel the rapid beating of his heart. “More than fine.”

“I…” you say, trailing off when Aemond reaches his free hand up, and tenderly tucks away a flyaway strand of hair that fell from your ponytail. “Okay.”

“And I was wrong,” he says.

Your head tilts in confusion.

Aemond grazes his thumb against your knuckles, smiling at you so prettily that it can rival all the stars in the night sky.

“A lady could fight.”

You cannot stop yourself from smiling too.

Though the dinner party inside was wonderful and grand, you find yourself stepping away outside towards the end of it, to have a moment to yourself. It is a beautiful night out here in the Godswood, the stars above so bright, as if welcoming you into this new era of your life.

You can not believe you are sixteen now. More a woman now than a girl, as your mother had said earlier the evening. You suppose she is right. Only a woman would suddenly have such confusing feelings over someone who she had thought of for so long as just her best friend.

You laugh at yourself out loud.

“May I get in on the joke?”

You turn around to see Aemond leaning on one of the other trees that surround the big Weirwood tree. He had been watching you, though you had no clue for how long.

“It’s nothing,” you tell him, still giggling to yourself but you try to shake yourself out of it. “I… I think I’ve had too much wine.”

He pushes himself off against the tree, striding his way to you. “You’ve only had a cup. I did not think you to be such a lightweight.”

“Shut up,” you pout, pushing him lightly when he gets close enough.

“It’s good though… Do not be a drunkard like my older brother.”

From all the stories you have heard about Prince Aegon from Aemond, you shiver at the thought. “Don’t worry. I will not.”

Aemond chuckles at how utterly disturbed you seem to be at the notion, then joins you in looking up at the stars. A comfortable silence falling between you.

“Did you like my present?” Aemond asks after a while.

“Of course I did! How could I not?” You say, perplexed that he is even asking. As if you could ever dislike anything he has given you. And this present was probably the most extravagant of them all. It is a gorgeous gown, one of a kind and made by the Queen’s and Princess Helaena’s personal dressmaker. The Queen herself assisted Aemond in picking out the colors and design – a creamy white chiffon over a floral patterned silk under to mute the already paled colors of the silk – the billowy sleeves of the dress off-the-shoulder. Scandalous in your part of Westeros, but perhaps not in the southern cities. You loved it as soon as you set your eyes on it.

“It’s beautiful. I thank you again. I wish I had some special, fancy occasion to wear it to though.”

“I’ll find one,” Aemond declares, sounding so sure of it. “But then again, there is no one to stop you from just wearing it. Who would dare question you when you bested a Targaryen Prince in a duel?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I will not disrespect your mother – the Queen, by the way – by wearing the beautiful dress she helped make for me out at the training grounds.”

Aemond holds his hands up defensively, grinning at your feistiness. “Alright, alright, it was merely just a suggestion.”

Then you sigh, crossing your arms together. “I suppose it’s my turn to give you your gift then?”

“I…” Aemond wets his lips, “I hope you do not think that I brought up your present just to remind you of mine.”

Your head shakes at him, amused now. “I did not… But now that you mentioned it…” At your teasing, Aemond opens his mouth then shuts it, only to do it again, looking like a dumb fish. It has you laughing, “I’m joking, Aemond!”

Then you take a deep breath, grabbing the small pouch that you had tucked into the pocket of your dress. It is now or never.

You tell him to hold out his hand, and when he does, you drop the bag gently onto his palm. “Happy name day, Prince Aemond.”

He looks at you expectantly, and when you give him the go ahead, he unties the drawstrings, opening the pouch and letting the content of it drop into his hand.

He lets out a tiny exhale of air, staring in absolute wonder at the sparkling ball of blue. “Is this…” He glances up and into your eyes, his gaze warm and soft, “Sapphire?”

Humming, you nod. “It was given to me by my grandmother. Well, actually, I picked it out. During her final days, she allowed all the women in our family to pick out whichever jewelry they wanted. Her jewels were the only things she had brought here from Highgarden. So while my mother, my sister, my aunts, and cousins were picking out all the pretty earrings, rings, necklaces, and brooches… Guess what my stupid six year old self wanted…”

“This… ball of sapphire?” Aemond answers, picking it up between his fingers, laughing with you when you nod.

“You should have seen the look on all their faces… It was hilarious, looking back now. And then… My grandmother, she just… She laughed and she picked me up and held me close. The joy on her face, the bells of her laughter, it was…” You smile sadly, eyes watering. “She had been so weak and tired for so long before that moment, so seeing that… knowing I was the cause of that– that moment. One of the last happy moments in her life… This ball of sapphire, not only is it the most valuable thing I own, it is also my favorite…” You clasp your hand over his, making him close it around the sapphire ball, staring into his eye as you say, “So please, take care of it.”

Aemond sighs, covering his other hand over yours and pulls your joined hands towards him, causing you to press up against him, gasping. He bends his head down, his forehead touching yours as he murmurs to you, low and sure, “I will treasure it forever.”

If you had known that was the last time you would see Aemond for a long while, you would have… You would have just done it. Done the stupid thing you made yourself hold back throughout his visit. Told him how you felt about him. Kissed him until neither of you could breathe. Anything.

But you do not have any hindsight, and you did not know in the upcoming years, Aemond would be too busy to visit. As he grows older, his royal duties also become more important. No longer a boy, Aemond now has jobs to do, important people to network with, and his training with Ser Criston now more intense and longer.

Though you are sad about the changes, you are not at all angry. Aemond still found time to write to you every week, keeping up with your life as he kept you up with his.

Three years passed like this. Just letters and no visits. Vhagar’s pit has been empty for so long that wild flowers started to grow in it. Your nineteenth name day comes and goes, another sad and lonely year you do not spend with your best friend.

Days, weeks, and moons cycle around. But just when you think another year would go by without seeing Aemond, an invitation arrives:

The House of Mormont are cordially invited to Aegon Targaryen & Helaena Targaryen’s wedding.

---

author's note:

so next chapter... rating is going to go up to explicit if you know what i mean... heh heh. i hope you are all enjoying it thus far, let me know what you think :')

*also, bellus=cute. none of the high valyrian translators have cute in it so i just used the latin word for it :)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd

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violetasteracademic · 2 days

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Master list here if you'd like to read the entire fic Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow, or just enjoy this spicy scene that is perfect for this week's @elriel-month prompt! (there will be some spoilers and missing build up/context for the fic but live your life babes)

Thank you to @fauxdette a fellow Virgo who is unmatched at creating aesthetic vibes for graciously offering some guidance on how to make a stunning header!

If You Won't Touch Me

Chapter 4: Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow

Word Count: 3,625

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Orgasm control, orgasm edging, light bondage

Elain

Elain knew Azriel was watching her the entire way home. The winged hound trotted alongside her, and it only made her even angrier how positively precious it was. His tail wiggled as he walked, adorably over-sized eyes peering up at her every so often. Jagged little shadow teeth ready to snap at so much as a bug that dared to fly too close to her. She half wanted to pet him.

I’m not going to touch you, Elain. Not with my hands. Not with my mouth. Not with my tongue or my teeth. Not until you decide that I am the only one who will have the privilege of doing so.

She began to shiver again, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Azriel knew exactly what he was doing. How he affected her. He had to know she was bluffing about calling for Lucien… He had to know he was the only one she wanted. And still he refused her until she could admit it. Until she could promise he’d be the last male to ever touch her. Prick. What an absolute prick.

She’d almost told him that was already the plan, that she could never think twice about another male after him. But he decided to play games, and she didn’t want to let him win. To give him the satisfaction of knowing she came running after him, ready to offer whatever he asked for. Once again, she had exposed herself. Presented her body to him like a damn cake platter and he still turned away.

She almost went down that dark road again, nearly losing herself to the madness of questioning her own sanity when it came to Azriel, but… he had exposed himself tonight too, hadn’t he? Even if you are not my mate, Elain Archeron, somehow I am yours. She tilted her head up to the stars and took a deep breath. Reminding herself of the things he said, and how she felt the truth of them deep in her bones. It was real. It was always real.

She was here. In Velaris. Walking home under the starlight with Azriel’s shadowhound at her feet. She had very little doubt that Azriel himself was trailing nearby, keeping to the shadows.

He thought he was her mate, even if she was someone else’s. She didn’t care about any of that. The mating bond meant nothing to her, less than nothing. She didn’t need such a bond to know she could want him forever. But… it seemed to mean something to him. It seemed to mean a great deal to everyone except her. She had been Fae for well over a year now, but she still struggled to make sense of how archaic it all was. The human lands weren’t that much better in how they valued women. It was clear to her now that Grayson likely only wanted her for her dowry. But if she wanted to say no to him, she could have. He’d have had no grounds to go to war or kill over it. It was always her choice.

She made it back to the townhouse and saw Nuala and Cerridwen waiting quietly in the shadows. Azriel must have sent for them. They each gave a slight tilt of their heads in question. Elain only shook her head and extended her arms, letting them shadow-walk her into her room undetected. Rhys and Feyre were blessedly only here for one more night before they were to return to the river house and resume their High Lord and High Lady duties full time after a long Solstice break. Longer than usual, due to Feyre’s pregnancy.

“We’ll be here if you need us,” Nuala offered before giving her arms a gentle squeeze. Elain nodded graciously, but did not request that they stay. She needed to be alone.

Her skin was still flushed after she removed her coat. In fact, she was burning up. Gods, had she come down with a fever from walking around in the cold? She didn’t feel sick, just… hot. Hot all over. Rage and frustration and need sunk so deep beneath her skin she thought she might lose her mind.

I won’t touch you.

Fine. That was just fine. He wanted to play games? Maybe it was time for Azriel to learn what it felt like for her to take back control. To make him putty in her hands for once. She walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open. She could see where Azriel’s cluster of shadows hid in the dark corners of the garden. Watching. Listening. There was no doubt in her mind he was there. That he’d stay until he saw the lights go out, and a long while after that to make sure she was safe. She unlatched the window and pushed it open. The shadows perked up at the motion and began slithering up the walls.

He had no idea what he was in for.

She kept the dim faelights glowing and waited until she could sense the presence of Azriel and his shadows at the window. She twisted her hair around her wrist, pinning it atop her head to expose her neck. She slowly pulled her nightgown over her head and dropped it to the floor, leaving nothing but sheer underthings and her thigh high stockings behind. She went to unclasp her bra when she felt hands made of shadow wrap around her wrists.

Elain. She heard the shadows whisper into her mind. Azriel. Talking to her in the way only she could hear. Not the daemati powers that Feyre and Rhys shared with each other. But… something else.

What? She sent back, shrugging innocently as the shadows swarmed around her.

Is there a reason you flung your window open to the freezing cold and started undressing for all to see?

My room is feeling a little too warm. I needed fresh air. And not everyone can see me, Azriel. She reached for the back of her bra again. She wasn’t stopped this time. Only you.

In an instant, her window slid closed and the curtains drew shut. Azriel, or the outline of his form wreathed in shadow, kept to the corner of the room.

“What are you doing,” Azriel asked. No amusement in his voice.

She lost no confidence. He had already shown his hand, coming into her room in the blink of an eye just knowing she was undressing. He could have stayed at the apartment. Kept his shadows quiet in the garden. But he was here.

“You won’t touch me. So I have to take care of it myself.” She dropped her bra to the floor. Azriel’s shadows guttered. “Is there a problem? I don’t recall that being against your rules.” She slid her panties down to her ankles and gingerly stepped out of them. She had to stop herself from grinning as Azriel finally stepped out of the shadows, his hands white knuckled at his side.

She reached to start rolling down her stockings when shadows shot for her hands again.

“Wait,” Azriel whispered, his voice thick and dark. “Don’t take those off.”

She looked down at herself, stripped completely naked save for the stockings. Clarity set her skin on fire.

“You like the way these look, shadowsinger?” She asked sweetly.

Azriel didn’t speak. He only nodded.

“Very well, then.” Elain turned her back to him, taking a slow stride to the bed and swishing her hips more generously than was entirely necessary.

She crawled onto the bed, exposing her entire backside to him. She heard him mutter a low stream of curses and she bit her lip before propping herself up against the pillows and letting her legs fall open.

She was already slick between her thighs. The sheer sight of Azriel hardening through his pants and clenching his fists so hard he was shaking nearly sent her over the edge. She had spent her entire life being made to feel like the only thing about her that was worth anything was her beauty. But no one, no one had ever looked at her the way Azriel looked at her. From that very first moment, she felt as if he saw past her skin and into her soul. And while Lucien occasionally looked at her like he wanted her, falling prey to the call of the mating bond, Azriel looked at her like he would die if he couldn’t have her. It scared her, how mutual that feeling was. But it also made her brave.

“Where would you start, shadowsinger? If touching me wasn’t against your rules.” She smiled coyly.

Her smugness evaporated when Azriel sent out a wisp of shadow to clasp around her wrist. Her mouth fell open, and he guided her bound hand up to her lips, pushing her fingers inside.

“Suck,” Azriel ordered.

Elain gushed as she obeyed.

One point to Azriel. Oh gods. That fast, she was going to lose this game tonight.

Her chest was already heaving as he used his shadows to slide her wet fingers down to her peaked nipples.

“I’d start here,” Azriel said. Calm. He was too calm. And Elain was already writhing as she flicked her fingers over the sensitive spot Azriel had guided her to, drawing tight circles around her nipples until they were sharp as cut diamonds.

“You’re breaking the rules,” she panted, but there was very little fight in it.

His expression didn’t change at all as he led her fingers down her sternum, her stomach.

“Am I?” His eyes glittered, full of filthy menace as he said, “I believe I said I wouldn’t touch you with my hands, my mouth, tongue, or teeth.” That damn half grin began to grace his wicked lips. “I don’t recall saying anything about my shadows.”

Elain nearly arced clean off the bed as he sent another tendril out for her free hand and pinned it over her head. He slid the hand on her stomach a little farther down, but not far enough. Elain’s hips bucked, and she desperately tried to push through the shadows. To press her fingers exactly where she needed them.

“Is this okay?” He asked quietly, flicking his gaze to where he had her wrist pinned.

“Yes,” she whispered. She watched his cock almost rip the front seam of his pants when she said, “Harder.”

She loved the feeling of being restrained. Of him controlling every inch of her body. Her touch. It helped her to focus and simultaneously lose herself entirely. She didn’t want to be treated like a glass vase.

She had no idea how to express that a little pain sometimes felt so good, but she didn’t have to explain herself to Azriel. There was no judgment in his hungry gaze, only understanding. His eyes lit with unrestrained desire as the grip on her tightened, and her hips lifted in response. He dragged her fingers lower, right where she needed them. He only let her manage a few strokes before he pulled her hand away. Elain whined in frustration.

“Azriel,” she breathed. She tried to lower the hand he had pressed just above the apex of her thighs, but she couldn’t budge. “Please.”

He pushed himself off the wall and stalked to the edge of the bed.

“Please what?” Another tendril slid across her, this one pinning her hips down and stopping her writhing and thrusting. She tried to rub her thighs together, desperate for friction, only to feel her ankles yank apart. Her legs spread to each corner of the bed and held firm. Oh, she was gong to absolutely ruin him when she had the chance. He wasn’t the only one who had restraints at their disposal.

“Please, Azriel. I need to, I need…” she babbled, but couldn’t finish as more shadows swarmed, sliding over every inch of her. They ghosted over her nipples, swept along the curve of her nape. They slid into her hair and gave a sharp tug. Elain bit her lip to keep from crying out. “Please let me touch myself,” she begged.

“Can you be quiet?” Azriel’s eyes were roving over her. At the black threads keeping her restrained. It only made her wetter. His eyes glazed over as they traveled, drinking in the sight of her bare skin wreathed in his shadows. His gaze snagged at the swollen bud between her spread open legs. She was aching and throbbing and soaking the sheets. She couldn’t withstand it much longer.

“I’ll be quiet,” Elain nodded furiously.

As if he saw straight through the lie, he enveloped them in a brilliant cobalt shield. She felt the quiet settle over her, the blue glow casting her skin in a radiant hue and the world outside of their little bubble completely cut off. She loosed a sigh of relief.

Azriel got down on his knees at the edge of the bed, nostrils flaring as he came eye level with Elain’s slick and pulsing center. She pushed and pushed against her bonds, but he held her down tightly. Watching him drink in the sight and the scent of her only made her more needy. She was going to burst out of her skin.

He moved her fingers lower again, letting her just brush over her clit. So light and teasing she wanted to scream from the lack of friction.

“Please,” she cried. She was moments away from tears pricking her eyes, that’s how desperate she was for release.

“Since you asked so politely,” he slowly snaked a shadow clean up her center. She gasped as it continued a slow, torturous trail up her body. Over her breasts. Lightly gripping around her neck. With one final cool grin, Azriel released his hold on her. She didn’t even bother to consider what she looked like or if her body was displayed in a beautiful way as she plunged her fingers down between her thighs. She lost herself completely, riding harder than she ever had before and grabbing at her breasts with her free hand.

“Azriel,” she panted, too lost in the sensation to feel ashamed or embarrassed by him watching her. She dragged her fingers in and out, pressing her palm hard against her clit as she pumped. She had done this so many times. Had thought of no one but Azriel for over a year. But to feel the phantom touch of his shadows lingering on her skin, to breathe in his cedar and night chilled mist scent while she touched herself… it was beyond any fantasy she could have imagined.

She was close. She wasn’t sure how such a thing could be possible, but she felt as though she could have come just from the grip of Azriel’s shadows, the sight of him watching her, controlling where she could touch. She had never teased herself like that. Had never pushed herself to the limits of sanity, riding the edge of need and being denied what she wanted. She hated it. And she loved it. Her mouth fell open and she moaned, thrusting her hips harder into her hand. She cried out, panting as Azriel sent his shadows roving back over her, skating across every inch of her skin. Tracing the sensitive inside of her thigh, swirling around her nipples that were so hard now they could cut glass. They threaded through her hair, gently tugging at her scalp, and she shattered.

Stars blinked across her vision as her climax crashed over her in wave after wave. She kept riding, kept moving and losing herself to the feel of her orgasm and Azriel’s shadows until it hurt, until she she was too sensitive, and collapsed on the bed.

Sweat beaded across her skin. Her mind buzzed and her vision was foggy.

Azriel’s shadows began to massage her scalp in soothing strokes. Her eyes blinked open.

He was standing at the foot of the bed again, his pupils blown and chest visibly heaving. His cock was absolutely enormous in the outline of his pants, and Elain’s mouth went dry as she pushed herself onto her knees and took in how large he was. She reached for him.

“No,” Azriel stopped her with both hands on her wrists. “Not tonight.”

“Why?” She asked. They were still shielded. He had kept her screaming completely contained. If she knew he could do that, she might not have waited so long to strip naked in front of him.

“I won’t be able to cover my scent. I’ve already been here too long.” His face looked truly pained as his gaze slid down her body one last time. He shook his head, attempting to clear the fog of lust.

“Come here,” he said. His voice was gentle now. All signs of that commanding male holding her completely at his mercy disappeared. She crawled to the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling self conscious about her nakedness. As if he could sense her worry, his shadows whisked her nightgown off the floor.

“Arms up,” he said. She did as she was asked. “Good girl.”

She trembled as he replaced his shadows with his hands to tug the cool silk down her skin. Then, he pulled her in close for a tight hug. He enveloped her so completely, and she nuzzled into him. Into the strength of his body. His delicious scent.

It was so calming, so tender it left her breathless.

“I wish I could stay,” he said into her hair.

“I wish you could too.” she buried her face in his neck and he tightened his grip on her.

"Elain?" Azriel asked, softly gliding his mouth over her skin.

"Yes?" She breathed in reply.

“Don’t forget what happens when you try to tease me,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. She shuddered, her arousal stirring once again.

And then he was gone.

Elain waited for shame to wash over her, but it never did. That moment he had offered, brief as it was, to hold her afterwards… he hadn’t touched her apart from that. And somehow it was more caring and intimate than anything she had ever experienced with Grayson. Grayson had a tendency to focus on himself in bed. To grunt and heave over her until he was finished, then roll over and fall asleep. More often than not leaving her unsatisfied and sneaking quietly into the bathing chamber to tend to her own needs.

Yet Azriel…Azriel had kept his eyes on her, as if simply watching her find her pleasure was a dream. A gift. He had dragged it out, pushed her to the edge of near insanity. And he had wanted nothing in return but to hold her.

She trembled once again as she replayed those last words whispered into her ear.

Don’t forget what happens when you try to tease me.

She certainly wouldn’t. She didn’t think she would ever forget a single detail of this night. She wanted more of Azriel. She wanted to kiss him. To feel is skin. She wanted him inside her. But she also knew he crossed some boundaries tonight. For her. And it was enough. For now, it was more than enough.

She went to peek out through the curtains and saw the shadowhound keeping watch in the garden. He waggled his wispy tail and fluttered his wings at the sight of her. Elain brought her hand to her mouth to hold in her laug, and waved. He puffed out a breath of shadow in the shape of a heart, and Elain’s own heart clenched in her chest.

For the first night in such a long, long time, she slept deeply and without interruption. The nightmares never came.

She dreamed of a golden doe dancing through a valley of shadows. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel fanfic #elriel fic #spicy elriel fanfic #elriel month 2024

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peapodsinspace · 2 days

Note

Hiiii :3

do you have any jojo headcanons?? It can be for any character :]

oooh absolutely!!! I’ve never made a post about my head cannons before!!!

These are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head!! And a lot of my head cannons are like, au specific anyway hehe

Also a lot of these will be post cannon :]

-Diamond is Unbreakable-

-jotaro taught josuke and okuyasu how to do eyeliner

-tomoko listens to Britney Spears when she cleans her house

-tonio sends okuyasu “left over” (freshly cooked, made expressly for this purpose) meals a few times a week

-koichi’s mom invites Rohan over for dinner fairly often (he excepts occasionally)

-Golden Wind-

-narancia’s favorite thing to do is listen to music with his friends and just chill

-he has playlist for all of them

-he likes to sit upside down in chairs (supposedly helps him focus ((he just does it because he can)))

-nara ikes to have other people read to him because he’s better at remembering it that way (usually fugo reads to him)

-giorno isn’t super good at video games, but he gets very serious and into them regardless

-fugo and trish used to not get along very well, but now they just bicker at each other for fun

-they read crappy YA novels together!!!!

-fugo has a copy of divergent he added commentary in the margins of, and long rants at the end of the book (he stuck extra paper in)

-he did this to try and get mista to read divergent (it worked ((mista hated it)))

-that copy was passed around the whole group so it has a bunch of notes from everyone

-fugo keeps all his books in stacks and low bookshelves because he dislikes the way ceiling-high bookshelves loom over him

-fugo genuinely had it out for abbachio when he first joined Bruno’s gang, to the point that he would try and get him in trouble with bruno for no reason

-abbachio lets Trish do his makeup sometimes

-abbachio will sleep in all day, and if he’s ever up early it’s because he never went to bed at all

-Stone ocean-

-weather and anasui will usually try and get extra breakfast (or save some of theirs) to give to emporio

-emporio likes FNAF

-he makes his friends play horror games with him (jolyne and anasui mostly, because jolyne is good at them, and anasui screams like a little girl)

-Steel Ball Run-

-diego is effected by cold and heat more since he developed his stand

-he occasionally gets the extreme urge to chew on something (or more specifically to eat a rock), however save the times he is fully in his dinosaur form or close to it, his teeth aren’t strong enough to eat them :[

-which is why his gloves have many pinprick holes in them from where he chews on the extra fabric around his fingers

-diego is a total nerd about anything animal related and will happily info dump at any opportunity, but somehow still be prissy about it

-gyro is consistently baffled by at least half of the phrases that Johnny says, because he doesn’t know what they mean

-gyro saws some serious logs in his sleep (he snores very loudly)

-he has a journal he’s really secretive about

-one time Johnny read the journal and it was just dumb joke ideas and a really weird bucket list

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annwrites · 23 hours

Text

you send me

— pairing: negan smith x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: negan comes to see his "favorite" girl in alexandria, only to find out she's incredibly sick and that denise has absolutely nothing to help her as she slowly slips away

— tags: negan pining, negan worrying, negan trying to annoy you bc like a little boy he can't just admit he has feelings for you, there is a flashback of the two of you dancing bc i'm a sap

— tw: rocky mountain spotted fever is mentioned, vomiting, medication being forcefully administered

— word count: 2,602

— a/n: in my canon, denise never dies | my twd masterlist | sam cooke song that's mentioned

The house is silent, as usual, when Negan comes through the front door. "Where is my favorite girl?" He asks with a chuckle, but the words float into thin air, no response coming back to greet him.

The only reason he even bothers coming to your domain anymore is simply to annoy you. Maybe get under your skin by making the offer for you to join his harem of wives...again.

In hopes of pissing you off a few weeks ago, he'd taken a batch of cookies you'd just boxed up fresh from the oven with a wink, saying it was 'property of the saviors now' and 'hope they taste just as sweet as you are'. He'd even rummaged through your fridge, stealing a Tupperware container of leftover pasta, before whistling to himself as he walked out the door, not bothering to close it behind him, Lucille slung over his shoulder.

You'd been none-too-pleased the afternoon you came home to find him napping on your couch. You knew the saviors were once again 'visiting', but hadn't been aware that Negan had come with them.

He'd been rudely awaken by you vacuuming the rug directly in front of him.

Not that he hadn't then made some comment about 'going upstairs and getting cuddly under the covers'. You'd yelled that you couldn't hear him before deciding you wanted to try the vacuum against your hardwood floors next.

He never bothered taking anything of true use to you anymore, though. For one, it was due to the fact that his men had all but wiped out the whole of Alexandria the first time they'd come. But the most significant reason? The real one? The first time he'd met you, you'd been the only person to call him out on his bullshit straight-away. And with no fear, at that. Well, none that you clearly showed to him, at least.

He'd entered your neat and tidy little home, you emerging from the hall, doing your utmost to hide just how afraid you were as he looked you over for a moment.

"S'cuse me, doll, but," he leaned in toward you, despite being halfway across the room. "Your husband home?"

You crossed your arms over your chest out of a desperate attempt to hide your shaking hands. "I don't have one."

His brows raised then. He set himself on a barstool, setting Lucille atop your recently-cleaned countertop. "Really?" He asked with interest.

You hadn't replied. You'd simply opted for standing there instead, and staring. Afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"Not much for talking, huh? I like that in a woman," he said with a brilliant smile.

You briefly thought that perhaps he was just a male chauvinist. But that didn't seem...quite right to you. No. This behavior—it wasn't real. It was a defense. Just a façade. Right?

You walked over to the sink, starting on the dishes you'd left soaking overnight. You had a dishwasher, but pods for them were rationed. And, while Eugene had even taken a shot at it, he hadn't quite perfected the formula for them to not create kitchens full of suds just yet.

Negan watched you, taken aback by your lack of attention toward him. "Well, guess I'll just take myself on a trip upstairs and start lookin' through your-"

"Are you always like this?' You asked quietly, scrubbing a pan.

"Pardon me?" He asked, pretending to be curious as to what you meant.

"It's an act, right? Just a persona you've created to make yourself seem like someone other men might want to follow. To make yourself feel powerful."

A muscle in his jaw feathered. "Maybe this is just my natural form, darlin'."

You'd set the pan aside to dry on your dishrack, then you glanced at him over your shoulder. "I hardly believe you were...whoever this is before."

You felt tempted to start making guesses as to what, exactly, he did before the outbreak, but knew that was not a good idea.

"Think you know me?" He'd asked, voice a tad more serious.

The pot in your grip nearly slipped from it. Afraid of him hearing your voice shake, you'd instead merely shrugged.

He got down from the barstool, sliding Lucille off of the counter—you knew he'd just covered it in scratches—before coming to stand beside you. So close you could feel his body heat.

"Go ahead, take a guess. Try and read me."

You look up at him and he's looking down at you with an amused smirk.

Your next question catches him completely off-guard. "What happened to you?" You'd asked it barely above a whisper, brows furrowed.

His features shifted, his smile disappeared at the look of pity in your eyes when you gazed up at him. He leaned in close and it took everything in you not to step back and away from him. "You're on thin fuckin' ice, girl."

The two of you had stayed like that for awhile, him staring you down—you could swear he'd glanced at your lips, but it'd happened so quickly that you weren't sure—you doing your utmost to understand what the hell was wrong with him, until he'd finally turned his back to you, slamming your front door behind himself.

You felt lucky the small glass windows on it hadn't shattered from the force.

As Negan heads down the hall, he hears voices drifting down from upstairs. He tells himself that, if it turns out you're busy hosting male company, he won't care. But his hand still tightens around Lucille's grip, images of beating someone's face to a bloody pulp in his mind.

Heavy boots thump against the stairs, until he's reached the top step and sees Denise and Rosita standing on either side of the doorway to your bedroom. He nearly makes an inappropriate joke, until Tara leaves, walking past without even acknowledging him, as she wipes a tear from her cheek, going downstairs.

A heavy feeling settles into the pit of his stomach.

As he gets closer, Rosita blocks the doorway. She may be half his size, but she won't just let him in. Won't let him near you. Not while you're barely hanging on as it is.

"Get. Out." She spits at him.

He merely pushes her out of the way, not turning back as she shouts "Hey!".

Everything moves in slow-motion as he takes you in. Your emaciated form, the pallor of your skin which is covered in a rash, the sheen of sweat on your face, the shallow breaths escaping your lips, the rapid rise-and-fall of your chest, and your eyes as they keep opening and closing every few moments, your pupils seemingly dilated.

Denise walks over, checking your pulse, then glancing to the doorway—to Rosita—shaking her head.

"What's wrong with her?" Negan's voice—his tone as serious as anyone in Alexandria has ever heard it— breaks the silence.

"She's sick, pendejo," Rosita replies with vehmence.

He lets the insults slide. He has more pressing matters at-hand.

He shouldn't have waited so damn long to come visit you again.

Why had he waited so long?

He sits on the edge of your bed, gently, as if he's afraid any sudden movement may harm you. He looks at Denise, waiting for an answer.

"She went on a run a few days ago. She said she just...wanted to get outside...for whatever reason. Didn't seem like herself. And not long after coming back...she developed a rash, a fever, headache-"

She's interrupted by you doubling over the side of the bed and Negan quickly picks up the empty trash can you're aiming for, but all you manage to do is dry-heave.

Denise continues, arms crossed. "Vomiting—but because she can't keep anything down now, she refuses to eat. Hasn't done so in two days"

He sets the trash can back on the floor, smoothing hair away from where it's now stuck to your damp forehead.

"She has Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. She must've gotten bit by a tick. Something so small..." She trails off. "She doesn't have long left without medication."

Daryl, Rick, Michonne, Rosita, Abe, along with a few others, had torn apart what local pharmacies they could find, but the drug was scarce—nowhere to be found.

Negan turns back toward her. "What does she need?" He asks, tone harsh.

"Doxycycline. We used to keep it in-stock here."

"Why the hell don't you anymore?"

Rosita replies with a sneer. "Because your people took all of it!" She shouts, unable to hide her contempt for the man.

A pained look flashes across his features. He then turns back to you.

This was his fault.

If you died...your blood would be on his hands.

He won't let that happen.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, not caring if they see. As he pulls away, he sees that your eyes are now closed. "Just get some rest, sweetheart. I'll be back soon."

As he exits your room, he grabs Denise by the elbow. "Tell me what you need and I'll make sure you get it." He looks at her. "No strings attached."

Not that you'd ever know, but as you slowly recovered, Negan had been on a damn tear at the Sanctuary. Once he'd had the medication you so desperately needed delivered to Denise—along with anything else she asked after for you—he demanded to know, from his men, why they had taken so damn much, leaving you all with nothing to help yourselves with.

They'd told him it's what he had wanted—what he'd ordered. He really just wanted someone else to blame for you nearly losing your life over needing a damn antibiotic.

He'd gotten a lot of use out of Lucille against some walkers near the back fences for a couple of days.

He had delivered the medication himself, and watched as she began to administer treatment to you, even if you fought her at first, thinking she was trying to feed you again.

He'd had to—reluctantly—help hold you down as she practically forced the pills down your throat.

You'd stared at him wide-eyed and terrified, no sense of recognition in your gaze as you looked up at him. Something about that—you having no idea who he was—broke something small inside of him.

He'd merely muttered that he was trying to help. That you'd get better soon and this would all make sense. That it would all be okay soon.

He hadn't left until you'd fallen asleep once it was dark. Had nearly told Rosita to shove it when she'd come to check on you and saw him there at your bedside, watching over you.

After that night, Negan had to be away for a few days, tending to business elsewhere, even if he'd been chomping at the bit to get back to you.

When he finally came through Alexandria's gate, however, he'd pulled up right outside of your house, practically bounding up the steps to get up to your bedroom.

And when he did, his knees nearly gave out from the sense of utter relief that washed over him.

You were sitting up in bed, eating—a tray in your lap with vegetable soup and crackers on it, a glass full of juice next to it—your free hand holding a novel open as you read.

A natural flush now graced your cheeks, your rash all but gone, and you looked well-rested.

You set your book down, looking at him leaning in the doorway, a small smirk on his lips.

"See you're all better."

"I hear I have you to thank for it."

He'd merely shrugged, pulling the chair that'd been returned to its rightful spot across the room in front of your desk, around to the side of the bed once more.

He rested an ankle over a knee. "Just a bottle of pills."

"And food, water, juice, and anti-nausea-"

"Going to list off your whole damn inventory here?"

"All of that came from yours," you replied, taking a sip of your soup, licking your lips.

He tells himself seeing you do that does nothing for him.

He doesn't reply to that statement. Merely looks at the window across the room, then back to you. "Just glad you're recovering."

"Are you?" You take another sip.

His brows furrow. "Why would you ever think otherwise?"

You shrug. "You like to pretend you don't care about anything—not individuals, at least—so-"

"Maybe you're the exception," he states, completely serious.

You'd only ever seen him so deadpan one other time.

He'd come over late, the sun just beginning to set.

You'd been sitting at your dining room table, pushing food around your plate, lost inside your head. You hadn't even noticed he was inside your house until he sat down across from you. "Not gonna make me a plate?" He asked, leaning back.

You hadn't even looked at him.

Instead, your features had darkened, and you'd retreated further inside yourself.

He'd known by the look in your eyes that something was deeply wrong.

He'd leaned toward you then, forearms resting upon the table. "Talk to me, Y/N. What happened?"

"Go away," you'd said quietly, but firmly.

Leaving you alone like that was the last thing he intended to do.

"And leave you to brood all on your lonesome? Not likely."

A tear slipped from your eye and you'd quickly wiped it away in irritation. "I don't want you here."

His lip had twitched. "Join the club."

The both of you had been quiet for a moment until he'd spoken again. "Listen, I don't know if it's something that happened today, or a long time ago, but I'll listen if you-"

You'd picked up your plate then, stood—your chair scraping against the floor—before smashing it on the ground.

You sat back down, slumping forward, elbows resting on the tabletop, burying your face in your hands as you began to cry.

He'd stood after a moment, walking over to the record player in your living room, browsing your selection of music until he settled on a particular song.

He'd walked back over, shrugging off his leather jacket before holding out his hand toward you. "Dance with me."

You'd quieted, looking up at him, giving him a look like he was insane. "What?"

"Give me your hand."

Instead of waiting for an answer, he'd reached down, sliding his palm against yours, pulling you up from your seat.

Just as he'd gotten you halfway to the living room, you'd pulled your hand free from his.

He'd turned back to you, but you'd merely began beating your fists against his chest. And he let you. Let you push him, slap and punch. He could take it. Wanted to if it made you feel better—by any extent.

Until, finally, you'd calmed enough that he pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you swayed back and forth.

You'd cried against his chest, small sobs wracking through your body as Sam Cooke sang about wanting to marry and take someone home.

Finally, you reply to Negan's comment about you being an exception to him.

"I bet you tell that to all your girls."

"No. Because none of them are."

The two of you sit in silence as you finish eating, him taking your tray as you lie back down to rest.

You swear you hear him say something quietly about missing you as he stands in the doorway—about to head back downstairs—but you don't catch it as you fall off to sleep.

#fic: twd (negan smith x reader)#negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd x reader

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council-of-councillers · 2 days

Text

just saw a post that said "endos arent harming anyone!!"

endos are harming traumagenics, not in the sense that they are 'taking our resources', its because we fight this disorder everyday. not in the sense of arguing with headmates, in the sense that we have to write down any and all relevent information (doctors appointments, names of people we know irl, when our next evaluation for surgery may be), stuff that we SHOULD remember but cant. theyre harming us by creating new stereotypes for systems because theyre seeing our symptoms and the way we act and ROMANTICISING it to 'be seen'. im all for romanticising things a little. if it helps you and it doesnt hurt anyone in the long run, go for it! its your disorder i cant tell you how to cope with it. but god.

an example i have of endos spreading misinformation about systems, Cheryl was in a relationship with an alter from another system. they ghosted us for a week, so she moved on because ghosting is a shitty thing to do to anyone, they messaged us and tried to get back in contact and cheryl decided to give it another shot. did not go well at all, whatsoever, so cheryl attempted to cut them off and even grabbed a few of our friends and (after explaining the situation to them) added them to a groupchat. this man told us that the headmate cheryl had been dating was now in our headspace looking for her out of anger.

if we had been a little younger and a little less educated, we would have believed him and we would have panicked, we get paranoid very easily due to another disorder we struggle with.

endos are harming traumagenics by spreading misinformation, by invading our spaces that we have created because of the abuse and the trauma we have endured from a ridiculously young age.

endos, seek help. you are either A. tramagenic and dont remember your trauma, or B. not a fucking system. do RESEARCH. look into these symptoms, look into other disorders that can cause these symptoms. DID gets misdiagnosed all the fucking time

also the post i saw that said "one day everyone will know at least one system in their community UwU" NO. NO. THIS IS A BAD THING. WE DO NOT WANT THIS. NO ONE WHO IS A SYSTEM WANTS TO BE A SYSTEM. some of us have learned to live with it, some of us have learned to cope with it, and some of us are grateful for our headmates because of how crucial they were in our survival. but no one WANTS this. i love my friends and i love my family within the council of councillers, i love my fellow worms off the strings, but every single day i wish we had our own bodies and our own appearances and i wish i could physically, bodily, go over to their house and knock on their door. but i cant do that, because we have been through some shit

endos are harming traumagenics.

-Elio/Grian

#traumagenic system #osdd system #system #osdd #did #did system #endos dni #osdd1b #actually traumagenic #system stuff

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whipitgod · 3 days

Text

I Panicked

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham

oneshot - wc: 2.3k

summary: post fall hannigram, fits in the same universe as ‘pushed in’ but its not necessary to read that to understand this one. Hannibal gets a bit introspective as he thinks about how his life turned out, Will just really wants Hannibal to stop stabbing him

warnings: canon typical violence though non-graphic (will gets lightly stabbed), somewhat crack-ish as per usual, and a decent helping of some tooth rotting domesticity

a/n: YOU GUYS ARE ALL SO AMAZING!!! thank you for all the love on the destiel fic! this was fun to write because I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while so it was good to finally flesh it out, i hope you all enjoy it!! if you like this remember to leave a like/reblog! maybe even follow me :D! Happy reading!!

!!!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

All things considered, Hannibal had never expected his life to turn out like this; he had been, for lack of better phrasing, well and truly domesticated. They had settled into a small home in rural Argentina after pulling themselves out of the raging water Will had thrown them into, the nearest town no less than 30 minutes away; which Hannibal had initially taken issue with before seeing how at peace the younger man had been in the countryside.

Will had flourished in the new environment much to Hannibal's delight, the ex-profilers joy making it hard for Hannibal to be upset about their living situation. The home is nothing like how his home in Baltimore had been, the one they reside in now was single story and unassuming. White in color and surrounded by trees with a lake a couple hundred yards back behind the house, the home reminded him more of how Will's home had been in Wolf Trap. Hannibal found it difficult to complain about the home when it was shared with the younger man, whenever he felt the need to his mind would supply him with memories of Will walking through the back door after spending all day down by the lake fishing, the dog Hannibal had got him when they had first arrived at the home following close behind him.

Hannibal really had never pictured his life ever being anything like this, the concept of finding a shelter and choosing a dog for someone would have made him laugh a decade ago. He reasons that he had never had anyone to do it for before, because when they had arrived in Argentina almost three years ago Hannibal had barely batted an eye while he made quick work of locating a shelter about an hour away from the home to find a dog for Will.

Despite all this he still has his moments, he reminds himself sometimes that nobody is perfect; everyone has moments of weakness and lapses in judgment. Hannibal tries his best to maintain his composure and not let himself do anything too impulsive but sometimes the flood of emotions he gets in the face of the domesticity he and will now shared got the better of him; he had never been good at reacting rationally and it was apparent in how he tended to handle his emotions.

His most recent lapse in judgment had surprised even him, even now a week later he’s still a little unclear on why he had reacted to the emotions he shared with Will the way he did. He really had no reason to do what he did but Hannibal had never been a very reasonable man despite how much he tried to claim he was.

2 Weeks Ago

“Jesus Christ Hannibal, why did you stab me!?” Will’s hand presses against the wound made by the small paring knife Hannibal had been using to prepare dinner.

Hannibal, to his credit, feels at least slightly bad about the turn of events and responds with a flustered, “I'm not sure, I panicked,” the cannibal reaches to move Will's hand so he can inspect the wound, “my sincerest apologies Will.”

Will lets out a disbelieving sound akin to a laugh, “Panicked about what!” His tone is sharp, and he lets out a hiss as Hannibal prods at the wound, “We were just talking about our plans for tomorrow!”

Hannibal freezes momentarily at the words; why had he stabbed Will? The man honestly isn't quite sure, he supposes it might have something to do with the domesticity of the situation and the overwhelming rush of emotions he got whilst listening to Will talk about their plans like they were an old married couple.

“I believe I had meant to kiss you,” Hannibal meets Will's eyes briefly as he says this, “again, I sincerely apologize.”

Will just sighs at this, “It’s fine Hannibal, just help me stitch this up,” he shakes his head muttering a frustrated, “I can’t believe you stabbed me.”

“Of course, dear.” The older man pulls his hands away from where he had them still pressed against the wound, turning slightly to turn the stove off; Hannibal can’t believe he stabbed him either. Will begins walking towards their bathroom, hand clutched to his side and his gait a little uneven betraying the pain he was in; Hannibal really isn’t sure how he was going to make up for this one. The cannibal trails behind him, instructing him to remove his shirt once they had reached the somewhat small room.

“You’re unbelievable,” the words leave Will with a surprising amount of fondness, “Remind me to stop standing so close to you while you make dinner.”

Hannibal lets out a light chuckle at this, shaking his head slightly, “I will try and refrain from stabbing you going forward,” He inspects the wound on Will's lower stomach, sighing softly, “You don’t need stitches dear, but let me clean and bandage it.”

“Little victories,” it’s said with a teasing smile, “and I've heard that before Hannibal, it feels a bit hollow when you keep stabbing me.”

The older man huffs an affronted sound at this, lips curling down a bit, “I haven’t stabbed you in four months.”

“It’s fun that you keep track,” Will spots the guilty look gracing the cannibals features and sighs, he reaches up and places a hand on the man's cheek feeling the slight stubble there, “I know emotions aren’t easy for you, and for what it’s worth I'm proud of you.”

Hannibal scoffs quietly at this, shaking the man's hand off, “Don’t patronize me Will.”

“I'm not,” urged Will, “I really am proud of how well you’ve adapted to our life here; I know it wasn't easy for you.”

The cannibal offers him a small smile at this before patting the bandage that now adorned Will’s abdomen, “Good as new.”

Present day

Hannibal shakes his head at the memory, all things considered, Will had gotten over the man's slip up with a surprising ease; Of course nothing is ever truly easy with Will. The ex-profiler had a tendency to hold onto things to use them as leverage, bringing up Hannibal's misdeeds whenever the couple would argue. The most recent incident had been used to strong arm Hannibal into a fishing trip, the younger man lamenting how Hannibal never partook in the activities that he enjoyed; saying that the cannibal owed it to him to join him on the fishing trip after the older man had stabbed him.

Hannibal had decided not to argue, having learned that with Will he had to pick his battles carefully. The fallout of the cannibal denying him would be worse than a day sat on a boat under the hot sun; at least that's what he had thought up until he had seen the life jacket Will was insistent on having him wear. He thinks back on the argument the life jacket had caused with a huff of retroactive annoyance.

1 Week Ago

“Good lord, what is that?” Hannibal chokes out whilst looking at the neon orange life jacket that Will is holding out for him.

“You’ve never seen a life jacket?” Will's tone is sarcastic as he waves the life jacket in front of the cannibal's face; the older man staring at it like he’s trying to set it on fire with his mind.

“Of course I've seen a life jacket William, don't be ridiculous,” Hannibal waves a hand in its direction, “but why in god's name is it that color?”

“In case emergency search and rescue has to find your body in the lake.” The younger man says this like it's the most obvious thing in the world and Hannibal finds the statement a bit unsettling.

His brows furrowed as he finished processing what Will had said, “Do you plan on me ending up dead in the lake?”

“Depends,” Will shoves the life jacket to Hannibal's chest and the older man lets it fall to the floor without sparing it a glance, “are you gonna be this irritating all day?”

“Very funny dear.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Will, deciding the conversation is over, turns away from Hannibal to finish organizing his tackle box and assorted fishing gear, not sparing another glance to the man even when he starts grumbling quietly to himself; Will only picks up on some of it, not really paying attention.

“We’ll see who ends up in the lake,” there's rustling behind will and the sound of the life jacket being picked up off the floor, “could call it payback for the dress shoes I lost in the ocean.”

Will looks over his shoulder at the man and sends him an annoyed glare, effectively silencing the cannibal.

Present day

Hannibal hated that life jacket; he hated that Will hadn’t worn one as well even more. The fishing trip wasn’t all that bad, though he’d never admit that to the other man; he had complained too much to then turn around and say that he had had a good time. He had found fishing to be rather peaceful, the calm waves rocking the boat accompanied by a comfortable silence, well partial silence. Once Hannibal had stopped complaining there was a comfortable silence, and even though he would never admit it to Will, he knew that he had complained for quite a while.

Hannibal startles slightly at the sound of the back door banging open and the thud Will’s boots made as he entered their home, he hears the paws of the dog following shortly after, the dog never far behind will.

“Honey I’m home!”

Another thing Hannibal would never admit to was how much he enjoyed when Will would enter the house like that, finding a lot of pleasure in hearing Will call the place they resided ‘home’, the phrase always implying that it was their home; a space that they shared. The younger man enters the kitchen, setting the fish he had caught during his trip on the small island, before shifting his eyes to where Hannibal sat and sending the man a smile, eyes crinkling in the corners with the force of it.

“How was your trip dear?” Hannibal stands walking over to where Will is standing at the island starting the process of cleaning the fish. His hands reach out landing on the counter each side of Will’s waist as he peers over the man's shoulder at the fish in front of them, “By the looks of it, it went well.”

Will cranes his neck to look briefly at the man, eyes softening before he leans in and steals a chaste kiss; Their affection had become startlingly domestic compared to how it was when they had first arrived. They had behaved like touch starved teenagers for the first couple months, every kiss turning into something more. The two, now a few years into living with each other, expressed more casual intimacy than Hannibal had ever thought he was capable of. Quick kisses in greeting, or the gentle kisses Will would press to his cheek before he would rush out the door becoming a part of their routine; Hannibal frequently pressing kisses to the top of Will’s head when he would walk behind where the man was sitting, inhaling deeply as he does, taking in the smell of their shared shampoo.

The memories as well as the current position they’re in is horrifically domestic and Hannibal kind of wants to stab him again, though he stamps the thought down as quickly as it comes. Emotions swirl inside of him and he’s unable to pinpoint all of them though he’s able to pick out happiness fairly easily, the emotion had become commonplace after their years of living together; Hannibal had never thought it would be possible to feel as deeply as he does now.

“It was good,” Wills hands now working with a skill that had taken decades to acquire as he guts and cleans the fish in front of him, “how was your day? Do anything fun?”

Hannibal pauses for a moment considering, “It was good, though rather uneventful.”

Will let out a curious noise urging Hannibal to continue, “Oh yeah? Why's that?”

“The day somewhat slipped away from me; I haven’t even begun preparing for dinner.”

Will snorts at this, “Oh no, how will we ever survive,” his tone is teasing, and he laughs a bit as the words leave him, “we’ll starve before you manage to get dinner together.”

“I know, what a horrible twist of fate,” Hannibal presses a kiss to the side of Will’s head before continuing, “we managed to elude the FBI’s grasp for years only to succumb to hunger.”

Will’s shoulders shake with silent laughter before he sets the knife in his hand down, wiping the fish viscera off of his hands before turning in Hannibal’s arms, the man having yet to move them from the island, keeping Will caged. Will doesn’t attempt to touch the man, very familiar with his obsession with cleanliness, instead he leans his head forwards and rests it against Hannibal’s chest. The man's hands move from the counter then landing on the small of Will’s back, fingers toying with the waistband on the back of the younger man's pants.

Will heaves a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension releases from his body now that he’s wrapped in the other man's arms. They stay like this for a few minutes, Hannibal rocking slightly, a soothing gesture that makes Will’s shoulders slump even further.

The ex-profiler starts to laugh, the sound vibrating against Hannibal's chest prompting the cannibal to pull Will back slightly to look at his face, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm great,” more laughter leaves him, “I was just thinking about stabbing you.”

“Excuse me?!”

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