#you would think he was also a cat (and he is but also he's a human)

[wonustars]

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (Teaser)

𖥔 pairing: kim mingyu x reader 𖥔 wordcount: ~15k+ (this teaser: 599) 𖥔 genre: fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni)

𖥔 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

𖥔 summary: you and mingyu (a former mafia member and also your ex-fiancè's former best friend) are forced into witness protection. All you’ve been told is that you’re meant to act like a happily married couple. Pushed into a cookie cutter house, and a suburban neighbourhood far from the city, where people bring you baked goods on your first day and partake in small talk, it’s all foreign and new. There’s so many things you don’t know about him, but for a man who’s only known violence and all things illegal, he’s somehow the perfect house husband.

𖥔 tags: fake relationship/marriage!au, non-idol!au, mafia!au, afab!reader, norbert is readers cat (more tags when the fic is posted) 𖥔 release date: may 14 or 15, 2024 𖥔 author's note: if i end up posting after the predicted dates plz do not crucify me 🙏 ik a lot of people have been waiting for this one so i'd thought i post a teaser since i have 2-3 chapters left till its finally finished. thank you to all of those who sent in their ideas and to those who've shown so much interest in this story :") i really hope it lives up to your expectations!! see u soonest - anna ♡ !!!!

The first few days at the new house were uneventful and awkward to say the least.

Mingyu spent the majority of his time doing random housework, he thought that if he had to live here for a year, then he should at least try and make it as “homely" as possible. 

Many of the women in the neighbourhood had deemed Mingyu as their new eye-candy. Despite the fact that he wore his pink shibu inu apron while tending to the garden at the front of the house. They would especially make sure to take multiple laps around the block during their group walks, drooling over his toned muscles as he began to plant an array of flowers on the lawn. 

Mingyu isn’t very observant when it comes to people finding him attractive, believe it or not. He automatically assumes that the wives of Bridgewater just wanted to get to know the new couple that just moved in. 

“What a beautiful garden you have!” one of the wives called out from the sidewalk, her eyes glinting with appeal. 

“Thank you, It’s not done just yet, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” Mingyu smiles bashfully. 

“Of course dear. You know if you’re ever free you should come and take a look at my garden,” another lady giggles, her innuendo flying right over Mingyu’s head.

The group of fourty plus year old women all giggle like school girls as they watch his face turn red with flattery. Mingyu scratches the back of his head awkwardly as they bid him good-bye, curious as to what they group of women thought was so funny about him taking a look at their gardens. It’s all just a bunch of flowers isn’t it? 

The sound of your car’s engine brings Mingyu out of his thoughts, his gardening tools forgotten by the piles of dirt he left. You lug Nortbert’s carrier as you walk into the house, acknowledging his presence with a small nod. His pink aprons raises a few questions in your head, but you decide not to comment on it. 

“Oh hey you’re back, is he ok?” Mingyu asks, motioning to the carrier you hold in your hand. 

Halting your steps, your eyes widen as you realize that he’s talking to you, there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you since you’ve moved in. so you found it a little surprising that he’s asking about Norbert, the cat who tends to show lots of aggression towards him. 

“Morning. He’s ok, I just took him for his check up at the vet,” you shrug before entering the house. 

You leave the conversation there. There wasn’t much else to say anyways, and you had a lot of work to get to before the end of the day. If Mingyu feels a little bit ignored by your actions, he doesn’t make it noticeable, going back to working on his garden. 

From across the yard, neither you of Mingyu notice Seungkwan’s looming figure as he and Vernon enjoy the Friday morning sun. He watches the two of you from his porch with a quirked eyebrow. They’re awfully awkward for newly weds, he thinks to himself. 

“Nonie, don’t you think they’re a little weird?” Seungkwan nudges his boyfriend, who’s mumbling to himself while Vernon reads his book. 

Vernon quirks up, moving his headphones a little to hear what his boyfriend has to say, “huh? Sorry I was reading, what’d you say?” 

“Nothing, go back to your book love,” Seungkwan mumbles, his eyes still darting back and forth from your descending figure and Mingyu, his suspicions spiking once more.

[charlewissss]

𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓾

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ smut/NSFW, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, cursing, size kink

summary: three words: Red. Like. Passion. But red is also the color of the car driven by Charles. Red is your lingerie, as red as your dirty thoughts about the Ferrari driver…

author’s note: do not copy or give credits

The smell of alcohol, loud music, people crowded together, temperature too high: the definition of a busy night. A night in Monaco meant this to you. Boundless fun and one-night stands with whoever came along.

After your breakup with your ex-boyfriend, your sweet and delicate personality has transformed into hate and lust personified. Temptress with your gaze, you conquer every boy who looks into your eyes, driving him crazy.

This one night seems long and empty just like the others. You enter the club, approach the bar counter, and ask for a Bloody Mary. The bartender can’t take his eyes off of you because of how gorgeous you look this evening.

With your cocktail in your hands, you wander around the place feeling observed differently than on other nights. You begin to feel in awe, your skin begins to sweat for no reason. You turn around to understand the reason for all this, and you are struck by a pair of sea-colored eyes that study every curve of your body highlighted by the red silk dress you are wearing.

Brown hair. Ice eyes. Sexy body under the black shirt that struggles to contain his muscles. Who is this man? His appearance seems familiar, but you had never noticed him in the different clubs you frequent almost every night, you would have noticed his gaze and his charm.

So you decide to move in his direction casually. You walk past him and look at him with cat eyes and out of the corner of your eye, you notice him getting up from the sofa where he was sitting just a few seconds ago, following you to the bar counter. When you’re about to ask for a second drink, you hear a familiar voice say: “I’ll pay for the young lady, she’s with me, thank you”.

You turn towards him, meeting his gaze directly toward your breasts. To attract his attention you say in a confident voice: “Oh yes? So are we together? Is today our anniversary by any chance?”

The sound of his laughter sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. His aura of mystery makes you moisten between your thighs. No one had ever succeeded until now. “Who are you? Why do you seem to already have a place in my mind if I have never met you?” you think in your mind. “So what are you waiting for to drink? Are you going to stare at me all night, princess?” he says, smiling mischievously and moving his gaze toward your thighs pressed together.

Suddenly your favorite song comes on from the speakers so you take his hands, take him to the center of the dance floor, and start purposely seducing him with your sexy moves. You notice his gaze moving toward your hips and then looking at your ass every time you turn your back to him while dancing.

The atmosphere gets hotter and hotter until the sound of his sensual voice reaches your eardrums as he whispers: “How about we go away for a while, princess?”

That nickname drives you crazy, it makes you even wetter and more in need of finding out everything about the man whose name you don’t even know. Placing his hand on the lower part of your shoulder, he guides you toward the exit in a confident manner, leading you to his car.

You can’t believe your eyes: it’s a Ferrari 488 Pista, titanium-colored with a livery featuring red and white stripes reminiscent of the Monaco flag. You already saw that car before. With his hand, he motions for you to get into the car. Still shocked, you enter and observe the interior of it, just as beautiful as the owner. As you look around, you fall into the swirls of his eyes, now just millimeters away from you, which immediately bring you back to earth. Then, without asking, he starts attacking your mouth with his kisses.

You immediately turn your head slightly to allow him access to your neck. You feel his teeth on your sensitive flesh stimulating your pleasure, your nipples stiffen, and your hands tighten on the leather of the seat. His hands instead roam all over your body, exploring every area still covered by the soft fabric of your dress, which is slowly becoming more and more wrinkled due to the contact with his powerful body.

He leaves two purple marks on your neck, you still feel his warm breath near your earlobe. Without wasting time, you bring your delicate hands near the zip of his pants. You too, without asking, slowly unbutton it, until you glimpse a protuberance trapped in his Calvin Klein boxers.

Without speaking, you look him in the eyes and he responds with a nod of approval, encouraging you to continue. You quickly lower his boxers below his knees and take out his cock, already full of pulsating veins visible from afar due to how excited he is. This vision makes you feel so horny that you let out a moan of pleasure without him touching you.

You begin to move your fingers up and down his length, and then focus more on his head with circular movements. With your other hand, you stimulate his testicles so that he dies from the pleasure of having you. Watching his head go back in pleasure and his moans mixed with excitement and lust sends you into ecstasy. You bring your mouth closer to his cock, first licking it lightly and then suddenly taking it all in your mouth until it reaches your throat. This sends him into a frenzy, so much so that he can no longer feel his legs. You watch his abdomen contract and his moans become louder and louder as he holds your hair forcefully, pulling it slightly toward him to make his cock go as deep as possible into your throat.

He cums all over your mouth and hands. You look at him with eyes full of appetite and continuing to look at him you lick all the liquid from him, tasting it and swallowing it. This gesture drives him crazy enough to tear your dress and then throw it somewhere. He is shocked by the color of your lingerie. Fiery red like blood, like the stitching of the seats of his Ferrari, like the sex you are about to have. Quite violently he turns you around to unbutton your lace bra. Your lush breasts enchant him, enough to invite him to leave hickeys right next to your nipples. Your cries of pain infused with cries of pleasure are music to his ears, his favorite tune. He leaves hickeys all over your abdomen until he reaches your inner thighs. He looks at you with his icy gaze for a second, then takes your thong with his teeth and pulls it down until your crotch is exposed.

He enters you without any warning, enough to make you scream so loudly that the people outside the club look around. Luckily the windows of his Ferrari are tinted to hide the obscenities you are doing inside. His pace is fast like his car, his moans resemble the roar of an engine. Together you create perfect music, harmonious notes that blend with the noise of your flash making contact. As he moves inside you he bites your earlobe and moves to your right collarbone. You have never been so at peace. For the first time, you forget all the pain of your past, this man is magical. His cock adheres perfectly to the walls of your vagina. “Fuck you’re so tight, you're perfect for me, princess”. You can’t even answer him, you can only let out a moan of pleasure. Suddenly you feel a knot in your stomach getting stronger and stronger and then you cum hard like never before. “This man is phenomenal”, you think. After a few seconds, he also cums for the second time, still shouting how wonderful you are.

“So? Don’t you ask my name?” he says. “Is it possible that you don’t remember me, princess?”. Immediately that nickname, his voice, his toned muscles, and his icy eyes come back to your mind. It's Charles Leclerc. The famous Formula 1 driver. Your first meeting? A night of fire like this. You have tried to track him down but since so much time has passed you lost all hopes. “Charles,” you say, your pupils widening as does your smile. “I have never forgotten you, princess”. “I hope you can forgive me, it took me a long time to find you, but here we are, perfect as we were that night, made for each other”. With eyes full of tears, you lie down on the seat starting to fantasize about a future together, about a life full of red and love.

[teddybeartoji]

toji is a cat dad. the cat looks so fucking tiny next to him that it's a little comical actually. they spend every morning together – the cat twirls around and between his legs as he's grabbing the food, quietly meowing and purring. toji smiles softly to himself at the little thing's neediness. so cute.

the cat also just loves to follow toji around the apartment. always. he goes to the bathroom? the cat goes to the bathroom. he's cooking in the kitchen? the cat is in the kitchen. he's asleep in the bed? the cat is in the bed. (big man toji stomping around the house with the smallest cat in the world running after him.......... guys i'm melting i'm dying)

ok but he was a little weirded out by the cat's need to be in the bathroom with him lmao. like he's taking a piss and he looks over his shoulder only to find the little kitten just staring up at him with big eyes😭😭😭 toji grumbles under his breath and tries to ignore him but then he ends up looking over his shoulder again, hoping that he left but no. he's still there. sitting like :3 😭😭😭😭

"yer fuckin' weird..." is what toji tells him as he places the cat on the bathroom counter and he just gets a cute meow back as a reply. the cat watches him brush his teeth and toji has to fight the thing because he's now in the sink????? toji needs to spit out the toothpaste but the critter is getting comfortable in the bowl and he actually feels bad abt pushing him away... wahh he's so soft actually guys i can't do this anymore.

if the cat happens to be a big meower, toji's definitely talking back to him. he literally goes "what're ya yappin' about, lil man? 🤨🤨" while looking at the tiny creature. but he loves it, he thinks it's so funny. he picks the little guy up and just stares at him up close O.O (plss the cat is literally like the size of his palm i'm dying it's so cute).

he also likes to carry the cat on his shoulder. i think every cat would actually love toji so much, this is also canon here you cannot argue with me. and i think they'd all find him very comforting? and i think they'd love to sleep on him. so whenever he's cooking and the cat paws at his legs, he just picks him up and places him on his shoulder.

he once did that when shiu was over and he was just ????????? like man what are you doing put the damn cat down ????????? and toji just went. "no. he wants to see." with a blank face. to him it's very obvious. c'mon, the cat is so little, he has no idea what's happening up here, ofc he wants to see??????? smh shiu do better😒😒😒

oh and this was definitely just a stray cat he took in btw. after a long day at work, he was just walking home with a cig between his lips when he heard the teeeniest tiniest little meow coming from behind the dumpster in an alley. and well... the curiosity got the best of him and he went to check it out aaand lo and behold!!!!!!! itty bitty kitty!!!!

big eyes peering up at him behind a thrash bag, he just knew he couldn't leave the poor thing there. he reached out his hand, letting the kitty smell him and he almost dropped his cig when he actually leaned into his touch immediately!!!! that's his baby now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he held the cat to his chest as he made his way home and he even stopped by a little corner store to buy him something to eat. the cashier did look at him with a raised brow bc what the fuck this massive man is holding the smallest cat in the world, but toji didn't mind. he didn't care. the cat slept on his back that very same night.

ALSO. thank u @kentophilia for putting this idea in my head ily<33 during the late hours of the day, toji lays in bed while reading his book with his glasses on – the cat stands on his chest with a determined face. he's already purring even though toji hasn't even done anything. he's just soo comforting and the cat just loves him soooo much okay:((((( toji lowers his book to look at the thing before scratching the top of his head and smiling to himself when the cat closes his eyes and purrs even louder.

the cat ends up trying to make biscuits on him and that makes toji yelp lmao. the tiny little claws dig into his warm skin as the he kneads toji like he's a piece of dough. purring and content – toji doesn't have it in him to make him stop either. it's not like it actually hurts, he was just caught off-guard. he didn't get scared by a cat btw, he didn't. in the end, he keeps reading his book with his one hand while petting the creature with the other. this is their routine. they're family!!!!!!!

anyway. he loves his little kitty cat with all his heart and he would literally kill for him:33333

[moineauz]

helooo, 1 ticket for Exodus, starring Boothill & gn Reader as main leads

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ノ𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 — boothill !

synopsis: a gradually rekindling bond between two ill-fated souls. in other words, you encounter a partner you never thought you'd see again.

side comments: not me writing more boothill... also this was partly inspired by the song too sweet by hoizer.

extra: boothill calls reader 'doll', uses the word pretty for the reader, mentions of alcohol, boothill and reader have their issues ig, gn reader, boothill backstory spoilers, fluff and angst word count: 1, 385

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket to an expressway: smooth sailing amongst galaxies and stars. You could have slipped your wrist in the rings of planets; allowing them to adorn your human flesh in glitter and gold.

"I reckoned the IPC would send one em' tonight," insinuated the man beside you, his voice husky and gruff, "Didn't think you'd fancy your whisky neat."

You share a winsome smile, still gazing ahead, lifting the glass to your lips unfazed, "Who said I couldn't have my whisky neat?"

The man scoffs before chuckling lowly, "Well, I thought the IPC are a little..." he leans forward, his cool breath brushing against the shell of your ear, "Soft, don't you think doll?"

The bar is thronged that evening. Chatter warms the walls while candlelight swishes above in scintillating opulence. One chime after another, click and sway, swish and pull. Your ears heed the bar lines of inordinate movements like a song. Even the subtle whirl of the man's arms and the click of his heel is oddly pleasant.

"And I thought galaxy rangers keep to themselves," you languidly turn your head to meet his face; fixing your eyes on his like the head of an arrow kissing its bullseye. "A shame I have to endure your presence. Considering you're a ranger, you're awfully loud," you riposted.

"Ha! You don't know what you're missin' doll," the man teases, yet, there is an edge to it, "Do all IPC members talk like that? All bark and no bite?"

"I'd like to say bite and no bark," you reckon smoothly, like velvet curtains draping over the walls. "Why waste your breath when all you need is a single shot?"

A splitting grin grows on his face while he shakes his head charmed, "Now you're talkin' my language doll! One bullet does make a heck of a difference."

You bite the insides of your cheek, your jaw tight before him, "Spare me the small talk Boothill," you retorted placidly: a facade of indifference casting a shadow over your face. "You know I don't fancy playing cat and mouse in your boots."

"Oh you never change," he chides, placing his left shoulder on the bar's smooth counter. Boothill's face rested in his metal palms as his shiny eyes settled on you. "That's your only fault."

The corner of your lips quiver slightly, he doesn't notice. "Even metal carries its dents," you pause, your words suspending in the air's murky atmosphere, "And it seems you carry that burden quite well."

Boothill stills as you call for another fill. Whisky trickles into your glass; swishing in hues of sweet amber. It soothes the bitter lump in your throat as it gushes down sip after sip like the ocean current churning away.

Silence draws you closer; knitting you together. You heave a sigh, gingerly placing the glass on the counter, not a sound echoing above. "You always drank your whisky neat," you remarked bitterly, "And you always got drunk afterwards."

Boothill's smiles echo some ineffable tenderness and it caresses your cheek despite its distance. "Ha! Don't make me all sappy over here doll, might have to bring her out if you keep this up." Despite his words, Boothill's voice is strangely hushed: hollow like the crevices of a skeleton. Or a body that doesn't quite fit its soul.

You smile, pushing the bounds of his words with your voice, "Then bring her out Boothill. It's been some time since I last saw your precious gun. A shame you hold her so much closer."

"As sharp as ever," Boothill conceded; twirling the gun like a toy. Its varnish slick like butter as it glistened under candlelight. "Seems I have to up my ante."

In one swift movement, Boothill instinctively slips his nippy hands around your waist: his belt of bullets pressed against your hips with benign familiarity. His other hand intertwines with yours, like the lacing of a corset- tight and tender. Boothill lifts your arm, raising it with frivolous flare accompanied by a wicked grin. Your shoes click against the bar's smooth surface and Boothill leans forward. The shadows of his bright face made known to you anew. Now, the two of you stand, one breath apart.

"Seems like old habits die hard," he mutters, his eyes following the curve of your lips and the pools of your eyes, "Can't help it when you keep sittin' here all pretty. Sippin' whisky for fudger's sake..."

You raise your eyebrow tentatively before an unabashed smile stretches across your face and you giggle. Your laugh slips through the air like a fine mist and Boothills breathes it in. The cogs of his chest whirl a touch faster as you sparkle in all your quiet limelight: tucked away in a corner bar, it beats boldly one step at a time

"Looks like the IPC employee can laugh," Boothill teases, the jazz band kicking off its rhymes with the beckoning call of the trumpet.

"Is that all you think of me?" you surmised, a mirthful expression pressed against your skin, "I expected better from you," you teased.

"Shallow?" Boothill muses, the band's drummer now pushing the song as you and Boothill shuffle to the center of the bar, feet moving as one, "I'm all but shallow; especially when I'm dancing."

You press your hand on his metal shoulder, the spark in your eyes dimming slightly, "Then show me."

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket past the waiting rooms and into the hospital bed: refuge under the captive's wings. You could have laid your heart there to rest; allowing yourself to be part of a grand tapestry, one of them.

"Looks like you still have it in you after all this time," remarks Boothill as his fingers find their way to your waist, "One more song?"

"I've had enough," you state, yet, the roused smile on your face still beams, "It's late."

Boothil clicks his tongue. "Come on... just like the old times, wouldn't hurt for another spin," surmised Boothill, his voice oddly mellow with a trace of dejection.

"You don't want to dance," you rebutted, "You want to talk."

You slip your hand off his metal body, its coolness lingering on your fingertips like a ghost. Boothill blinks, his hands now fallen by his sides, the grin on his face tight as he shakes his head.

"I'd reckon you'd... catch on. You always had bigger fish to fry."

"You know I hate fish."

Boothill chuckles. However, it's mellow and lush. Reminiscent of the open plains the three of you once wandered. Sweetgrass brushing against your legs in rhythm with the breeze. The cusp of the morning sun nestled in the palms of your hands like a nest. In the evenings you lingered amongst free horses; braiding through the stars and their lush mane while weaving through riverbeds, singing sweet dreams.

"I miss the kid too."

Boothill smiles, "I know."

"Then keep your promise," you amble towards him, your shoulders in parallel as you promptly seize his hat, swiftly placing it on your head. "If you want your hat back," you jested, "Meet me at the bar when you're done catching your 'Acheron.'"

Boothill smirks, placing his hands on his hips, languidly leaning to the side, "And why would I do that? I've got plenty of hats."

You scoff, "Is that so? Then I guess I don't owe you my answer."

Boothill pauses abruptly, his eyes wide, "You-"

"I still have the ring," you interject, a subtle quiver emerging from the back of your voice, "But I never gave you my answer."

"Doll I-"

"You vanished before I could give you my answer."

Boothill grows quiet and you sigh. Neverthless, you slip your business card into his pockets and press a curt kiss on his cheek, his hat still on your head, "So keep your promise, Boothill."

Boothill nods; heaving a prompt sigh before gazing up at the ceiling, a spark flickering within the corners of his eyes, "I won't let you down."

"Good," you surmise, gradually ambling away, his back still turned from you and vice versa, "I won't let you down."

Boothill grins quietly, muttering to himself as the aroma of whisky clings onto his metal body, "You never did, not once doll. Not once."

masterlist.

[sh4dys]

Mother’s day » All three

summary: how the boys would react if you got MaryLou a Mother’s day gift <3

warnings: gn!reader for all three

A/N: happy mother’s day to all out there!! whether you’re a proud mom of a lil gremlin or a precious angel, today is your day to celebrate your sacrifices! my love goes out to all of you <3 (this includes mothers of cats, dogs, hamsters, etc. you guys deserve it too, they’re tough work)

Chris

- chris probably would have gone with you, thinking you were getting stuff from him to his mom

- you’d get a card, flowers, maybe some chocolate for her as well—the entire time he’s under the impression it’ll be from him

- he only realizes it’s not when he sees you signing your name

“Ma, why are you signing the card?”

“It’s from me to your mom.”

“Oh? She’s gonna love it.”

- he would definitely get all giddy inside, especially if you make a joke thanking MaryLou for keeping him

- afterwards she would pull him aside, expressing how thankful she is that he found you and how you’re a keeper

- and he may or may not have been a lil embarrassed when going to your moms place, awkwardly standing there because he got her a cheap card last minute

Matt

- he was completely oblivious to your plan, not even knowing what you were buying her

- he only realized you got her stuff when you gave her either a put together box or basket of stuff. card, flowers, jewelry, basically anything you could think of

- he was utterly shocked at this, his jaw slack as he watched the two of you converse after the gift

- he’d pull you wider discreetly, making you a bit worried that he was upset

“You know, I really love you.”

“I know.. but also why?”

“You just made my mom the happiest woman in the world! I might as well propose already.”

- of course he’d beg you to get your mom something before visiting her, it wasn’t as extravagant as yours, but it made your mom happy as well

Nick

- he would 100% be in on the plan with you, also getting your mom stuff from him

- you both would be so excited to see your moms’ reactions, wide smiled stuck in your faces

- when MaryLou got your gift, he couldn’t help but admire how the two of you hugged afterwards, pulling you to the side and engulfed you in a hug

“I’m so happy she loved it.”

“I am too. I was worried she wouldn’t..”

“I’m just scared of what your mom is gonna think of my gift.”

- despite his fear, your mom loved his gift

- he either got her a meaningful card, maybe a picture of you two from one of those couple photoshoots, some of her favorite snacks, a candle—basically whatever he deemed fit for her

- at the end of the day you both loved how much the other put into the gifts, and had to call your moms’ to hear how happy they were

[minsheart]

LATE NIGHT CUDDLES [OT8]

pairings: boyfriend!ot8 x reader genre: fluff word count: 1487 (total) cw: mentions of reader having boobs in jisung's part, slight mention of sex in felix's part a/n: wrote this while listening to red lights on repeat. oh how i miss hyunchan

bang chan | 방찬: late night cuddles with chan feel best when he comes home late from the studio and right into your arms. he spent the last few hours trying to get the perfect beat for the upcoming songs and saying he's tired would be an understatement. but coming home to you and being able to rest and let his stress leave his body makes it all worth it. chan wouldn't have it any other way.

chan’s cuddles are warm and tender. his arms wrap around you in a bear hug, letting all your worries melt aways in each other's embrace. sometimes, when you can't sleep, chan will hold you close and caress your skin as he tells you about his day or something funny that happened to one of the other members. when he notices your chest finally lightly rising and falling as you held your eyes shut, he smiles a little to himself. pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he settles himself in bed next to you — wondering how you managed to look so pretty even while you slept.

lee minho | 이민호: late night cuddles with minho feel best when soonie, doongie and dori are also snuggled against the both of you. when you’re watching a movie, his arms are lazily placed around your waist and you can feel the cats’ fur brush against you while they quietly purr. when he averts his gaze and his ears get red once you catch him looking at you instead of the screen. several times.

minho’s cuddles are sweet and quiet. minho isn’t one to prefer words over skinship when it comes to you. if possible, he’d spend the entire day in bed, leaning against you every single second. there are times when you can’t hear a single noise other than the sheets moving with minho settling himself in a more comfortable position. however, the silence feels good. being able to share precious moments together without having the need to speak is something he treasures a lot. he’ll bury his face into the crook of your neck and kiss your skin every once in a while, falling asleep on you not long after.

seo changbin | 서창빈: late night cuddles with changbin feel best when you're just chatting with each other, his big arms wrapped around you and your head resting against his head. he find it to be very intimate when it's just the two of you without any distractions. all his attention is on you while you tell him about your day, thinking of how cute you looked with your eyes gazing up at him.

changbin's cuddles are affectionate and playful. he'll hold your tight against him, squeezing you once or twice to get you to laugh. he’ll pepper your face with kisses and when you tease him back the same way, he'll get all shy with that cute smile of his. cuddles between the two of you are lively and you chat most of the time, joking around. but when you both are tired and feel like resting, you have no problem in remaining silent, clinging to each other and falling asleep in no time — changbin’s chest is the best pillow ever.

hwang hyunjin | 황현진: late night cuddles with hyunjin feel best when you’re lying down on the bench in the balcony, stargazing together and having meaningful conversations. your head rests on his chest, nuzzling deeper as you slowly fall asleep on him and, when you do, he smiles gently to himself, caressing your back, eyes glued to the sky.

hyunjin’s cuddles are romantic and gentle. he loves leaving one of his hands on your waist while the other affectionately caresses your hair. he  enjoys cuddling you while watching those emotional movies that will definitely get a tear out of at least one of you. he thinks it’s really heartwarming to spend moments like this with you. kisses are also a must whenever you’re snuggling together. on the crown of your head, on your forehead, cheeks, lips, neck — he’ll kiss you all over your face as his hand wanders over your body. after all, he has to admire the masterpiece before him. hyunjin also makes sure to whisper to you every now and then, saying how good you look and how much he loves you. this man has got you weak in the knees.

han jisung | 한지성: late night cuddles with jisung feel best when he’s asleep on top of you. head buried in your chest as you run a hand through his hair. you’ve always thought he was adorable, but somehow he manages to look even cuter like this, knowing how tired he’s been lately and that he came to you to be able to rest. you feel glad knowing how much he’s comfortable around you.

jisung’s cuddles are intimate and soft. he doesn’t mind being the big or the little spoon, as he gets to hold you either way. when he’s the big spoon, he’ll always have this arm draped around your waist, 24/7, no questions asked. he feels like his arms fit perfectly around it — as if it was made just for him. and when he’s the little spoon, his head will rest on your boobs, remaining in pure bliss. how could he not? they’re so soft, falling asleep on them feels so good. jisung is a total sucker for skinship, and cuddling you never fails to make his day a thousand times better.

lee felix | 이필릭스: late night cuddles with felix feel best after he’s done with gaming for the night and crawls into bed with you, pressing against your body from behind as you whisper to each other, chatting. he tenderly caresses your hip with one hand and with the other, his fingers interlock with yours, slowly but surely lulling you to sleep.

felix’s cuddles are attentive and delicate. he always holds you as if you were made out of porcelain — if he’s too rough with you, he feels like you're going to break (in bed is a different story). he always makes sure to be gentle and soft towards you, taking his time to enjoy the feeling of your body against his. it isn’t unusual for one of you to end up asleep — even if it’s in the middle of that day. felix’s body is so warm and his touch is so sweet that you can’t help but close your eyes and, before you know it, when you open them again, it’s nighttime. you look up, seeing felix’s eyes shut and his breathing steady, his blond hair slightly messy. you chuckle. if you could, you’d live like this forever.

kim seungmin | 김승민: late night cuddles with seungmin feel best when none of you can bring yourselves to go to bed and sleep. you lay on the couch together, your head resting against seungmin’s shoulder as his hand slides under your shirt and caresses your skin gently, both of you looking at his phone while he scrolls through social media.

seungmin’s cuddles are loving and sweet. he loves to place his hand under your shirt, feeling the soft skin under your clothes. his thumb caresses your side tenderly, smiling as he glances towards you every now and then. you cling onto him sweetly, watching his eyes wander around the room as he talks to you about his schedule, only for them to fall back on you eventually. seungmin is naturally softer towards you and isn’t one to be too energetic at night, but when he is, be prepared to receive a tickle attack when you least expect it. he won’t stop until you’re laughing so hard you can feel tears forming in the corner of your eyes. he’ll let you go with a smile, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips afterwards. he can't help it — he gets a cuteness aggression overload from you.

yang jeongin | 양정인: late night cuddles with jeongin feel best when the two of you are simply looking up to the ceiling, holding each other as his playlist plays in the background. you vibe to the music together, singing some lyrics together as you laugh at one another when you’re off-key. as you eventually grow tired, the songs playing become calmer — almost as if he could tell the time you’d be falling asleep.

jeongin's cuddles are innocent and heartwarming. his hands caress all over your body with care and passion. his fingers feel warm against your skin, making you melt under his touch — is he even aware of what he's doing to you? probably, yes. and he loves every moment of it. you cling to him, resting your head on his chest as you seek comfort in each other's embrace. you chat quietly, your voices mere whispers as you discuss potential plans for the future. the thought of spending your life like this with jeongin makes your heart flutter, and he definitely wants to share all the time he has with you.

© minsheart, 2024

[thetopichot]

Finn, cooking pancakes on the stove: Darling? You're being so obedient.

Darling: Not on purpose, he bullied me!

Finn, smiling: Not just anyone can do that.

[yoonivy]

my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now i’m covered in you); part 3.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, drama, angst, fluff, 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. smut! loss of virginity, fingering, riding, creampie

wc. 16k+ 01| 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09

––––

The private library in Maegor’s Holdfast is Prince Aemond Targaryen’s favored spot for solitude and peace. It is the one place away from all the noise, gossip, and politics in the castle; and he often finds himself there, reading whatever book catches his eye that day or quietly contemplating by the fireplace. The only person that keeps him company there is his sister, Princess Helaena, but that only happens once every blue moon. So it is usually only him and Snowball – a stray cat he had claim as his own only a year ago, finding the little fellow near the docks of Blackwater Bay and taking pity since he thought the cat to be a mirror of himself, with it’s pure white fur and one eye blinded from a street fight with another stray – and he likes it that way. 

So why, oh why, is his usual peace in the private library being demolished when today is the final day he can have some time by himself before the festivities of his siblings’ wedding begins? 

“This is going to be the worst week of my life!”

Aemond’s facial features slightly twitch in annoyance, but chooses to ignore his older brother, continuing to read the text he has in front of him. Or at least, trying to – Aegon has been whining for over half an hour already, and it is really hard to focus when a big man child is crying into your ear.

“So many beautiful women from all around Westeros have been arriving into the city, all so they can witness me marry my strange, little sister!” Aegon bemoans, actual tears falling from his eyes as he runs his hand through his hair. Aemond rolls his own, thinking about how Helaena is the one given the short end of the stick in the deal. “It is so unfair!”

“Now imagine how our dear sister is faring with this,” Daeron says with a snicker at his place by the window, scratching under the chin of the small cat he has tucked in his arm. “I highly doubt she is any more ecstatic at the prospect of marrying you than you are.”

Aemond grins at his little brother, adding on, “And I would even propose she has it worse.”  

Daeron laughs hard, head knocking back, which could only mean he is in agreement. It has Aegon’s jaw dropping, looking between his two younger brothers, “How can you two be so cruel when I am already in distress?” Then he turns to Daeron, “Is this what they taught you in Oldtown? To disrespect your older brother?” 

Daeron shrugs, throwing him a boyish grin, and Aegon heaves a bothered sigh as he slumps against the chair he is sitting on. 

“You know,” Daeron begins, “I’m surprised our mother and grandfather even allowed you to put it off for so long. You and Helaena have been betrothed for nearly a decade.” 

“And every single day I prayed to the Sevens that our mother would change her mind…” Aegon grumbles petulantly. 

Aemond closes the book he has in his hands – clearly unable to read anymore – and tells him, “And each and every one of those prayers were completely useless. An annulment was never going to happen. Your marriage with Helaena is not only a way for our Targaryen bloodline and your inheritance to the throne to stay strong, but also so our mother would not have to agree to a betrothal between our sister and one of our bastard nephews. It is why mother sent an olive branch to our half-sister and rogue uncle and invited them to the wedding. It is purely just to gloat to Rhaenyra that she did not get what she wanted.”

Aegon rolls his eyes at Aemond – already knowing all that himself – and mutters angrily under his breath, “I detest this fucking political bullshit.”

Daeron shrugs again, returning to showering Snowball with affection. Their youngest brother is probably happy that he is a ward and squire of their uncle, Lord Ormund Hightower, over in Oldtown instead of being around here with all the drama.

Aemond, on the other hand, does not mind the intrigue of the court. Sometimes, he can even say he enjoys it. Besides, as heirs of the King of the Seven Kingdoms, he and his brothers should at least be knowledgeable on the affairs of the land that their father rules over – whether they like it or not. 

“I know what you two can do to make it up to me!” Aegon perks up suddenly, obviously over talking about the previous topic. Grinning mischievously, he leans forwards on the table in front of him and whispers to two in the room, as if the walls had ears, “Tonight… We’ll all sneak out… Have ourselves a little party all throughout the Streets of Silk in my honor…” He lifts his brows a few times, “Huh, how ‘bout it, brothers?” Then he smirks at Aemond, “You had fun the last time, didn’t you?”

Aemond grimaces while Daeron questions in disbelief, “You actually went with him?!”

“Once,” Aemond answers, then sharply glares at his older brother. “And never again.”

Aegon huffs and rolls his eyes, once again slumping in his seat as he mutters, “What a bore.”

“Wow…” Daeron awes, walking towards Aemond and gently drops the cat in front of him, Snowball purring as soon as Aemond starts scratching near his ear. Daeron pushes aside the book Aemond had been reading and lifts himself to sit on the table. “I did not think you are one to let him coerce you to do anything, especially his stupid ideas… I’m a bit disappointed, Aemond.”

Daeron is obviously teasing, but Aemond shoots him a glare anyway.

Aegon is beaming again, amused, and laughs too. Truly a hurricane of different emotions – probably the wedding jitters. 

“Hey, if it were not for my coercing and “stupid ideas”, Aemond would not have met that girl he is over the moon for,” Aegon says, still laughing. “The Northern bitch he is always writing his gay, little love letters—Eurgh!”

Aemond suddenly has him by the collar, cutting off his airway by how tight his younger brother’s grip is. The rage in Aemond is palpable, especially given how close their faces are, it’s clear to see. Aemond is seething when he spits out in Aegon’s reddening face, “I will have your tongue if you dare utter anything like that ever again, I don’t care. She is a lady of House Mormont and you will put respect on her name, or I’ll cut off your cock along with your tongue. Then we shall see if you will be having any fun on the Streets of Silk anytime soon.”

“Brothers, brothers…” Daeron tries to put himself between his two older brothers, pressing against their chest to push the trembling Aegon away from the furious Aemond. “As much as I think it is deserved, I do not wish to witness the heart attack that both our mother and father will have when they find out that their dear oldest son has been maimed and circumcised just days before his wedding.” 

That has Aemond loosening his grip, letting Aegon fall back down unceremoniously on the chair. With his father’s deteriorating health, Aemond did not want to be the one to cause him more pain. 

He sits back down too, trying to calm down as he ignores Aegon murmuring under his breath, “The Mormonts are hardly a house.”

“But tell me, what is the story there? Why did you fly North that day?” Daeron curiously asks, so used to his older brothers’ fighting that it does not even phase him. “You never did tell us.”

“Well, you see…” Aegon grins, still rubbing at the soreness around his neck before he starts the story. Aemond shuts his eye, choosing to drown his idiotic brother out to recall the time he told you himself.

It was when he visited during the third anniversary of the night he had landed on Bear Island, the snow on the ground in abundance but not as bad as that first time. The two of you were trudging through it, hands clasped together to prevent the other from falling. Although the two of you were falling behind the group of woodcutters that you, Aemond, and your brothers were helping out to gather firewood for the upcoming week, in case a snowstorm hits. It had been a long day, both of you tired but happy of the hard work you had done. As the sun started setting, Aemond turned to you and questioned, “Have I ever told you why I ended up here all those years ago?”

As you kept walking side-by-side with your best friend, you shook your head. “No… but I have been curious. King’s Landing is awfully far from Bear Island.”

Aemond heaved a sigh, stopping at his track and it made you stop too, your hand still in his. He eyed you hard, a serious look on his face. “I’ll tell you if you promise you won’t laugh at me.”

Facing him, you took his other gloved hand, holding both now, and just as seriously as he was, you said, “I promise.”

“My older brother he…” Aemond took a breath, and you squeezed his hand in comfort, knowing every story he told about his older brother does not end well. He gave you a small grateful smile, before he started again, “Well, first of all, we were reading this story book — about different creatures, and the horrible things they do — and then we got to the story about giants. It absolutely terrified me and it caused me to have nightmares for days after that… Then he found out I–” His mouth snapped shut, frowning, “A serving girl told him what I had done, and he began to make fun of me. I tried to act brave and say it was a lie but he saw right through me. So he dared me to fly up North, go beyond the Wall, find a giant and bring him back the head. If I did not, I was a coward and he would tell everyone what I had done…”

Aemond’s lips were trembling when he finished the story, his eye was wet. Frowning, you reached up, tugging the corner of his mouth up with your thumb. “Your brother is the stupidest, dumbest, most idiotic person I know.”

Aemond laughed through his sniffling. “You’ve never met him.”

“I don’t have to. I just know,” you told him with a shrug.

Aemond smiled at that. “But doesn’t that make me even more of an idiot for trying to prove him wrong?” 

You thought about it for a second, lips pursing to the side, then answered plain and simple, “Yes.”

His mouth dropped, and with a teasing, toothy grin you added, “But at least you met me.”

He was about to retort, but karma got you first, in a way of a snowball to your face by your brother, Jorah. You screeched as you wiped away the freezing ice covering your face, then screamed at the boy who was laughing, far ahead the two of you, “This is why Renee doesn’t fancy you!” 

Thus started the Great Snowball War of Bear Island, the one that you and Aemond lost horribly.

Aemond huffs out a soft chuckle fondly at the memory, almost missing when his older brother says your name and continues with, “I actually cannot wait to meet her soon and see what all the fuss is about.” 

Aemond snaps his attention on him. “What?”

“Your little Lady Mormont,” Aegon says so slowly, dragging each syllable like Aemond is dense. “She should be arriving in the city right now, with all the other Northern Houses.”

Aemond’s head shakes, disbelieving. “What are you talking about? House Mormont are never invited to these things. Believe me, I’ve tried before.”

“Yeah, well, when you are the oldest son of the King, what you want, you get,” Aegon says with a cocky shrug. But as Aemond continues to glare at him, calling his bluff, he sighs. “I asked our mother to invite them to the wedding. Told her it would be… nice, to do this for you. Since you have not seen her in years. I saw her write the invitation and everything. There is even already a chamber in Maegor’s Holdfast ready for her arrival.”

Aemond knows his brother well enough to know when he is lying or not, and so he abruptly stands, running to the door. As soon as he has it open with a swift kick of his pointed black leather boots, he takes off, Daeron watching with grand amusement and Aegon shouting after him, “You’re welcome, by the way!”

---

The small hall is already crowded to the brim when Aemond gets there. The new arrivals from the North easy to spot with their heavy clothing not suited for the southern weather. Among them, he sees someone familiar that has him smiling wide as he stride his long legs over to her.

“Lady Dorothea!” He calls out, and she turns around to face him with a smile of her own. Aemond had already had the pleasure of greeting your sister during her arrival a couple days ago with her Lord-Husband, Tobias Tully of Riverrun. He stands beside her now. Aemond bows his head towards him, “Lord Tobias.”

“My Prince,” they both answer back in respect.

“Did you know your sister is coming here as well?” Aemond asks Dorothea, which has her smile falling, confusing the prince.

“I–” Dorothea starts, but then sighs and smacks her palm lightly against her temple. “How did you find out?” It has Aemond frowning this time, unsure of the reaction. Then Dorothea chuckles. “My sister wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh… My brother told me. Just now, actually.” 

“She’s going to kill him,” Dorothea murmurs in a low voice that only her husband and Aemond could hear. Aemond’s lips start tugging up into a smile, and even more when Dorothea further explains, “My sister, she was looking forward to just… spring up on you. She even wrote this… Really long and foolhardy letter to your Lady Mother, her Grace, about why she wanted to keep it a secret and begged your mother to keep it a secret as well. Imagine that? Asking the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms to go along with your childish plans for… I don’t even know what,” Dorothea shares a laugh with the two men at her side, sighing at the thought of you. “Ah, my beloved little sister… How I do love her so…” 

Aemond can’t help but chuckle, nodding in agreement. “Do you know when she’ll arrive?”

Dorothea exchanges a look with her husband, then tells the prince, “She’s already here, my Prince.” The news has him sucking in a breath, his gaze already searching around again. “I have yet to see her, but I’ve already met with my father just a bit ago. He is taking their possessions to the two chambers they’ve been graciously given, and my sister… Well, I would hope you know her enough to know exactly where she is.”

A secret smile is shared with him, and in an instant, Aemond knows precisely what your sister meant.

---

Unlike the usual stoic and aloof prince that the staff of the Red Keep are used to, they are passed by a hurried yet bright-eyed Prince Aemond. There is an out of the ordinary grin gracing his face, so handsome that as he weaves through the mingling guests, he turns the heads of every pretty woman he passes by, hoping to gain his attention with a bat of their eyelashes. But he does not even notice, not when his own eye is searching around for the one face he is longing to see. 

As Aemond takes the now very familiar cobblestoned path to the Godswood, he catches sight of his twin cousins, Baela and Rhaena Velaryon, giggling together by the wisteria archways leading to one of the many gardens on the castle grounds. This could only mean that his bastard nephews are also running amok the Keep as well, but not even that can ruin his day… Because how can this day ever get ruined when as soon as he steps his foot onto the dirt ground of the Godswood, he has to suddenly stop short to catch his breath and calm his rapidly beating heart? 

Clutching a hand over his chest, he feels that he has to. Like if he does not try to protect it, his yearning heart will shoot out of his body to lay itself down for the heavenly being in the lilac dress who is staring up at the great oak Heart Tree of the Godswood. 

Although right in front of him, Aemond is still in disbelief. 

Is it truly you? 

He has dreamt of this a million times before – you, here, at his home, with him – but now that it is actually happening, he cannot even fathom it to be true. 

Aemond watches as your eyelids flutter shut, a gentle smile on your face. 

He wonders what you pray to your Gods for. All his visits to the Sept ends with him praying for your wellbeing and happiness – and more selfishly, for you to return his feelings. He used to pray for a taste of the crown on his head, but now he just wants you by his side, always — so is it really that bad?

The Targaryen Prince waits, giving you peace for your private moment, and only makes his move once your eyes flutter open. He keeps his footsteps light, so light that you are none the wiser he is by your side until he makes himself known, close enough that when he whispers your name, he can see the shiver going down your spine in delight. 

Spinning towards him, you murmur his name just as tenderly as he said yours. It makes his heart ache; remembering how long it has been since he has heard your voice, seen your smile, and felt that feeling when you looked at him – like he is someone that can be revered and loved. 

Then suddenly, your face is crumpling in mixture of a laugh and a cry, standing on the tip of your toes to throw your arms around him. 

It catches him by surprise. But it seems he is not the only one — because just as he is about to return the gesture, you are springing back and away from him.

“I’m terribly sorry, I forget myself,” you apologize as you glance around, your cheeks burning up with embarrassment at your display in front of the many others that came to greet the Old Gods after their long travel – and towards a prince . They are probably wondering why a girl from such a small and insignificant house thinks she is so familiar with the prince to even dare look him in the eye, let alone touch him. How you didn’t even address him with his title as well. At that thought, you dip your head down and murmur, “My prince.”

You feel fingers grazing under your chin, gently coaxing you to tilt your head up. You are met with Prince Aemond’s soft gaze and a warm smile on his lips. He is breathtaking, and you can only think about how pretty he is. You stare at him in awe, lashes fluttering as your eyes take in all his beauty so greedily, tucking in the image of him in every corner of your mind for safekeeping.

Before you can even form any thought other than that, his arms are wrapping around you. So tightly that you could not jump away if you wanted to like last time.  

You stand there frozen in place, feeling the curious stares of everyone around on you and your Prince. You can hear murmurings — whispers of his name, wondering who you are, and what the two of you are to each other. It should have you worried, how it might appear improper and scandalous in some way… But if your best friend did not care for their gossiping, then why should you? 

So you let go of the worry. 

You press your face against his chest, breathing him in as you hold him just as closely as he is holding you. 

It felt so nice and right that the two of you stood there like that for what seemed like hours.

In reality, only minutes passed — and although still long, when the two of you did part, it truly did not seem enough. 

“This is unfair… I wanted to be the one to surprise you, not the other way around!” You tell him with a playful pout, hoping it will hide the secret yearning in your heart.

Aemond’s perfectly straight and beautifully long silver hair swishes elegantly when his body shakes with laughter. “I’m afraid my older brother sold you out.”

“Your older brother… Prince Aegon?! How did he…?”

“He was the one to suggest to our mother to invite your family to the wedding.”

Your mouth drops in shock and it makes the corners of Aemond’s own tug up in a grin. “Believe me, I was surprised by his out of character thoughtfulness as much as you are.”

“Well if it were not for that and the fact that he is to be married soon, I would have had his tongue–” You catch yourself and glance around, hoping no one heard your treasonous thoughts uttered out loud. Luckily, no one did.

Aemond laughs again. It has been a while since he has laughed this much and he knows it is because of you. He always seems to be full of merriment whenever you are around. “Funny that, I had the same exact thought earlier.”

You share a smile with him, standing there and just happily basking in each other’s presence.

“It’s been too long…” Aemond says. Slow and carefully, he reaches a hand towards you, placing it on your shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

You suck in a breath as you allow him, emboldening the prince. He has you glancing down to follow the way his thumb gingerly brushes across your collarbone, gentle yet firm. A familiar feeling of heat toils deep in your lower belly, one you have come to know whenever you have thoughts of Aemond when you are alone in the privacy of your bedchamber. You look up at him from your lowered lashes, “I’ve missed you too.”

As you stare into his eye, you can not help but remember how you would slip your hand under your covers, your unpracticed fingers in between your thighs as you sigh his name into your pillow. It is burning you up to be thinking of something so impure in front of the Prince — if you only knew he has had his own fair share of sleepless nights doing the same. 

Aemond lets himself be selfish for a couple more moments, trailing his palm across and down your shoulder before he clasps his hands together behind his back. If he did any more than that, he knew he would have done something unbecoming for a Prince. 

“It seems you intend to stay true to your family nickname…" he says then, full of mirth. "You are still but a little cub.”

You gasp, appalled. “I’ve grown!”

Aemond hums with a teasing smirk.

You straighten up your posture even more, holding your head up high, trying to convince him. “I have!”

His answer remains the same, a hum, and the infuriating (and begrudgingly – charming ) smirk still on his lips.

“It’s not my fault you grew so freakishly so, with your long, spider-like legs,” you grumble. And it is true. The last time you had seen him, he was only an inch or two taller than you. Now he has at least a foot over you. So much has changed, especially when the first time you met him, you were the taller one.

Aemond can not help but be amused at the petulant look on your face and repeats out loud your use of ‘long, spider-like leg’ in disbelief. He licks his lips as the smirk turns into a beaming smile.

“I apologize, my lady,” Aemond says, dipping his head in mock apology. “May I make it up to you by showing you around the Keep?” 

Then he is holding his arm out for you to take. You narrow your gaze at him for a long second, letting him sweat. You notice the way he takes a hard swallow and thus, becoming satisfied. 

Sighing dramatically, you lock your arm around his elbow, your hand holding onto his bicep, sticking close by his side. “I suppose that is the least you can do.”

--

Aemond is a very thorough tour guide. For every place he shows you, he tells you about the long history of it and the most significant events that happened there. If it were anyone else, you would surely be bored. But since it is Aemond, he has your rapt attention. Besides, it overjoyed you to finally be able to put a place for all the stories that Aemond has told you over the years.

The prince takes you everywhere in the Red Keep – the Sept, the White Sword Tower, the Maidenvault, the Great Hall, the rookery, the training yard, the private library, and all the other places that are not off limits.

He saves the dragon pit for last, being the furthest from the Keep. 

“How are you feeling about the wedding?” You ask him, curious to know. You and the prince are still arm in arm as he leads you there, not at all in a rush and enjoying the leisurely walk.

Aemond shrugs nonchalantly. “It has been a long time coming. They’ve been betrothed since even before we’ve met. I think I’ve already come to terms with it.”

“Do you find it strange that your siblings are getting married?”

Aemond takes a moment before he answers, “I pity my sister, if that is what you are asking… But if it is because they are of the same blood… Well, I’ve told you about my many ancestors before, how they often married their own family to keep our bloodline pure for our legacy and to control dragons… And I must admit, there was even a time I had wanted for Helaena to have been betrothed to me instead—” He feels you stiffen slightly at his confession, “— Not that I felt anything romantically towards her in any way, but for duty and our birthright. And perhaps even to save my sister from the cruelty of our older brother. But now though…” he trails off, giving you a sidelong glance, “I am glad that the duty did not fall on me.”

You do not notice or feel his stare, deep in your thoughts and humming in contemplation at what Aemond just told you. Then finally, you say, “I could never picture myself marrying any of my brothers.”

Not only do you physically cringe, but the grimace of disgust that twists your features has Aemond laughing so heartily. 

“Good,” he says plainly, after his laughter lets up. Then he clears his throat before asking, “And what of other suitors? Surely you have many…”

You snort at the notion, very unladylike. “You think too highly of me, my Prince. I have none at all… Although I do think that they are all too scared of my older brothers to even try to court me.”

“Good,” he says once again. You look up towards him and see he is staring straight ahead, a satisfied smirk on his face. You want to ask him what has him grinning like a cat who got the cream, but before you get the chance to, Aemond turns to you and announces, “We’re here, my lady.”

You look at the building you are approaching in awe, the immense structure with the dome-like roof unlike anything you have seen before. You truly are not on Bear Island anymore. 

Aemond leads you inside, once again a walking history book. As you take in the information, you clutch onto him a little bit tighter when he takes you down into the dungeons. Though brave, you are not stupid, and you knew if you were to stray away from Aemond, there is only one dragon there loyal to the prince – the others would not be as kind. So you and Aemond pass by the others without giving them much attention, only catching glimpses of them. All of them big and mighty, and yet not nearly as immense or as ferocious as the dragon you have come to be so fond of. 

Finally, you make it to the largest holding area of the dungeon, the mighty beast inside laying down, resting.

“I took her for a long flight just this morning,” Aemond tells you with a smile. Then he parts from you, striding to the dragon first. Vhagar perks up when she hears him call her name, though only lifting up her head minutely. He stands beside her, murmurs something in High Valyrian, and then turns his heel to look towards you. Folding his arms behind his back, he waits. 

Now both their attention are on you. Cautiously, you approach the she-dragon, not knowing if she remembers you or not. She huffs hot air through her nostrils as you get closer, but does not move, only her pupils following you. When you make it to the prince’s side, he gives you a nod of encouragement. 

You reach out your hand, softly grazing the scales on Vhagar’s snout. Immediately, the she-dragon starts to rumble. Her eyes shut, basking in your touch and purrs even louder, happy.

You exchange a joyful laugh with the prince. Aemond places his hand on his dragon just beside yours and leans to whisper hotly in your ear, “It seems I am not the only one who missed you dearly.”

You can not help but burst inside with happiness.

--

For the next couple of days, you and the prince try to spend every waking hour together. Since the attention is mostly on Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena, Aemond had less commitments he had to attend to, leaving him with more free time than he has had the past three years. But he does get pulled away from you sometimes. Like this morning, after breaking fast together at the garden pavilion overlooking the ocean, leaving you with his sister, Princess Helaena. 

You did not mind one bit, you quite enjoyed the princess’ company. Her eccentricities remind you a lot of your brother, Jorah — who chose to stay home with Braeden and your mother. 

Like Jorah, Helaena talks your ear off about various subjects you are not familiar with. It is as if they think that if they know it, you know it as well. Still, you try to understand, asking questions when you see fit. It does not make things any more clear, but they seem to enjoy it all the same, and it makes you happy to indulge them with their special interest.

But when you do find yourself understanding what Helaena says, you notice that the princess has quite a funny side to her. Her jokes are very understated but intelligent, and when it hits, she has you laughing out loud. Even the dutiful royal guard following closely behind you and the princess cannot help but chuckle a bit.

The princess is so sweet and lovely, and it makes you all the more sad that in just a couple hours, she will be forced to marry her crude older brother.

You have only had the displeasure of being in Prince Aegon’s presence once – and thank the Old Gods, it was a very brief encounter because that was more than enough. Your skin still crawls in remembrance of his crass words towards you and the way he looked at you like you were merely just a piece of meat. He was lucky that he was pulled away to meet with some important Lord, because if it were not his brother, Aemond, to punch his lights out – holding back, with the knuckles of his fists whitening at his sides – it would have been your brother, Forrest, who also heard the Targaryen Prince.

“What are you thinking of, enkelitsos?” 

You snap out of your thoughts, turning to Princess Helaena with a smile.

“Hmm…? Oh, it is nothing…” You say, then you tilt your head at her. “What does that mean, by the way?”

“Enkelitsos?” When you nod, Helaena poses another question, “My brother has not told you?”

“No, he calls me it often yet keeps me in the dark.”

Helaena giggles into her hand that is not wrapped around your arm, then looks up at the clear sky, seeming faraway from you now. “When my brother disappeared that winter day all those years ago… I had a dream that he fell and met an enkelitsos, surrounded by shrouds of snow. When your father wrote us that first raven from Bear Island, I did not even know where my brother ended up, but I asked my father to send Aemond back my note asking if he has met the enkelitsos,” she looks towards you now, a peaceful look softening her face, “He wrote me back that he had.”

Then like her brother, that is all she gives to you, and you are still no closer to figuring out what that Valyrian word even means. You can guess, sure, but you would rather not. So once again you are just hoping it means something good rather than bad.

---

On the walk with the princess, the two of you somehow ended up at the training yard. 

It is bustling there. The air is heavy with the stench of sweat and grime. All of the men busy with practicing for the upcoming tournament later at noon, in celebration of the wedding taking place right after.

You catch sight of Forrest surrounded by four men, always the life of the party as his boisterous laugh and vibrant way of speaking enraptures their attention. There is a silver-haired fellow with your brother that could only be the coloring of someone of Valyrian blood, but his back is turned towards you to know who for sure. You know it’s not Aemond – for you know the sight of your prince’s back better than you know the back of your own hand – and it is certainly not Helaena’s husband-to-be. He stands tall and regal; reminiscent of Aemond, but not Aemond.

Could it be Aemond’s younger brother, Prince Daeron? 

You had not have the chance to meet the youngest and most loved prince. He had been savoring his time in King’s Landing with old friends he left behind for Oldtown, poised to head back with his uncle directly after the wedding feast.

Forrest then spies you from over the man’s shoulder, mouth spreading in a wide grin and jovially waving. “Little cub!” 

It has the silver-haired man turning around, and you see it is not the younger prince at all. This one is older than Aemond and even Prince Aegon, with roguish good looks. 

This has to be the King’s younger brother and Aemond’s uncle — the rogue prince, Daemon Targaryen. 

He follows behind your brother and Willam Stark, with two dark-haired boys in tow. The sly smirk that graces his face as he regards you and Princess Helaena has your companion pressing against your side closer.  

“The halls ablaze brings a ring of blue,” the Princess murmurs beside you.

You turn to her, confused. “What was that, my princess?”

Helaena shakes her head, just as Forrest steps up in front of the both of you.

“Princess Helaena,” Forrest bows so deep, his knee hits the ground. “Your presence must be the reason for this beautiful, clear sky.”

Though you roll your eyes, you are grateful that Forrest has a certain effect on people as you feel Helaena relax beside you. She even giggles, offering your brother a playful curtsy of her own.

“Aye, get up. Before they make you the jester for the feast tonight,” Willam Stark chides, lightly kicking Forrest’s bum.

Forrest stands, brushing off the dirt on his back and knee while throwing Willam a cheeky grin. “Doubt they will make the winner of the tourney the jester.” 

It was Willam’s turn to roll his eyes, not bothering to give Forrest a satisfaction of a reply for his cocky statement. Instead, Willam turns to Helaena and offers a well mannered bow, “My princess.”

Then to you, he takes you in a short yet tender hug. You squeeze him tight. For how long you’ve known Willam Stark – the younger brother of the Head of House Stark, Cregan Stark – and how close he is to your two oldest brothers, he is like family to you now too.

“I’m glad your travels went well, my lady,” Willam says after the two of you parted.

“I’m sorry yours did not go as smoothly, Willam,” you say, frowning. The Starks just arrived a day ago when they were supposed to arrive even earlier than your family. A brawl at an inn they had stayed at, Forrest told you last night after he helped the Stark men settle in. “At least you are here now, and safe. My brother was absolutely miserable without you.”

“Do not stroke his already huge ego, little cub.”

Both you and Willam snap at him a, “You’re one to talk.” and a “Says you?” – respectively. 

Forrest frowns deeply in mock hurt, just as someone comes in for his defence, “Even from the little I’ve seen Lord Forrest fight, I think his ego is deserved.”

“How you flatter me so, Prince Daemon,” Forrest says with a bright smile, making space for said prince and the other two behind him to join your little circle.

So it is him, you think to yourself as Daemon’s eyes find yours, a mischievous twinkle in them. From the little Aemond has talked about him, Aemond seems to respect the rogue prince as equally as he did not like him — both highly. 

You are not one to let others’ opinion form yours (except maybe when it is towards Prince Aegon) but when you give Prince Daemon a once over, you cannot stop the scowl from forming on your face. Because when you look down, what you see wrapped around Daemon’s grip is an all too familiar sword, a bear head crafted of silver signifying House Mormont at the pommel. You glare at his hand, like the heat of it will make him drop the precious sword so you can catch it. But fire cannot burn a dragon, and so you chose to glare daggers into his eyes instead.

If Daemon is confused or startled by the fire in your eyes, he does not let it show, the infuriating smirk still plastered on his face.

“I should give this back to you, Lord Forrest,” Prince Daemon says, handing over the Valyrian steel sword that had been in your family for generations back to your brother. “It is something treasured that should not be touched just by anyone.” He winks your way as he teases, “Isn’t that right, Lady Mormont?”

As you watch Forrest slide the sword back into its sheath by his side, you say with narrowed eyes now directed at your brother, “When Braeden passed over his inheritance of Longclaw over to you, he entrusted you not to just hand it over to anyone, all willy nilly… Even if it is towards a prince.”

Forrest huffs, clearly embarrassed to be scolded by his little sister in front of a group of people he respects. “Oh, come off it, little sister. Prince Daemon was merely looking. He has a Valyrian steel sword of his own, he does not need mine.” 

Daemon chuckles. “You never know. Perhaps I may need it in the future.” 

You glare at him again, not quite sure if he is joking or not. Forrest, on the other hand, takes it as a playful jest and laughs foolishly.

Once again, Helaena murmurs so quietly the strange phrase she had said before. The halls ablaze brings a ring of blue. Daemon overhears, titling his head in confusion at the young princess.

“How rude of me. My darling niece, I've not even greeted you — and on your wedding day,” Daemon says, taking Princess Helaena’s hand and places a dainty kiss on it. “Please forgive me.”

“It is alright, kepus,” Princess Helaena forgives, but she says it to the ground and is quick to snatch her hand away.

That is when you feel the weight of someone’s stare, and when you look, you lock eyes with the taller of the boys beside Prince Daemon. He jolts, his face turning red as he looks away – at the sky, the others around, the ground, everywhere, but on you.

He is quite handsome. You feel your cheeks heating up as well. You are not used to male attention, so when you get it, you do not know how to act. You wonder which House he is from–

“I hope today treats you well, Princess Helaena,” the younger and smaller of the two dark-haired boys says.

Helaena smiles, genuinely this time. “Thank you, Lucerys.”

That has you stilling, hearing the name. The boy looks so sweet, so young, so innocent, and yet… and yet.. 

“I also hope the same, princess,” the older one says to Helaena, and she nods sweetly to him. Then he takes a breath, puffs out his chest, and then turns to you with a boyish smile. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Mormont. I am Jacaerys Velaryon, but those close to me call me Jace.”

You felt traitorous, finding attraction towards the man who had a hand in traumatizing your best friend – the person you secretly claim to love – and left him blind in one eye. Even more so when he offers you his hand and you take it without question. 

Then, as he keeps his gaze on you from under his long and dark lashes, he brings your hand up slowly towards him, has you sucking in a breath as his lips—

An ironclad grip wraps itself around Jace’s wrist, freezing you both in place before his mouth can touch your skin. You glance to your side and gasp, meeting Aemond’s furious face, nostrils flared and mouth pulled back in a sneer. His glare is not on you, but on his nephew, and yet, you feel just as ashamed.

“He was just introducing himself, nephew,” Daemon says with a huffy laugh. “No need to get your smallclothes in a twist.”

If Aemond heard him, he does not show — choosing to tighten his grip harder, making Jace wince in pain as he drops your hand.

Aemond does not take his eye off Jace when he grabs for your hand and wraps an arm around his sister. “Come, my mother is looking for Helaena.”

Then he takes the two of you away, the stares of the men left behind burning your back.

--

After taking Princess Helaena back to her solar to get ready for the festivities of the day, Aemond whisks you away to the private library he calls his own. The whole time though, he did not speak one word to you, fuming and brooding to himself.

And in this room, where the two of you are alone, he keeps it up. Still fuming and brooding as he stands by the hearth, staring at the fire he had just kindled.

You watch him from where you are sat on the floor, back against the wall and the cat you had helped name sleeping peacefully on your lap. Having had enough of the silent treatment, you thump the back of your head against the wall and say out loud, “You’re angry with me.”

The silence is even more deafening now that you tried to break it. Aemond lets it simmer for a while. Then finally he answers, clipped and short in tone, “No.” 

He cannot even look your way when he says it. So how are you supposed to feel?

You are about to voice out this concern but then Aemond starts speaking again, “I’m angry with myself… for letting them get so close to you.” The fist he has clenched on his side hits the wall suddenly, startling you. “His filthy mouth almost touched you!”

It makes you frown, this side of the Targaryen prince. You don’t see it often, but when you do, it scares you sometimes. “Aemond, you’re being ridiculous. He was just being respectful.”

Aemond huffs out a mirthless laugh, finally turning towards you. “If you think he was doing that out of respect then you are more naive than I thought. Perhaps you are also blind to the many suitors I know you have, if that is the way you think.” He grins sardonically, aiming to be cruel and mean. “Although I did not think you would be one to fall to your feet for the lackluster charms of bastard boys.”

You hold his gaze, yours getting blurry with tears. Though before he can get the satisfaction of seeing a tear fall, you look down, threading your fingers through Snowball’s soft fur to help with your feelings of hurt. “That was mean, Aemond.” 

Towards me and your nephews , you wanted to say. You know that Aemond has very valid reasons for his hatred towards his nephews, but you remember what your father had said before — holding a grudge leaves nothing but more pain in its wake, poisoning your own soul . It was a lesson for Jorah and Forrest, after another tiff between them, but it stuck to you too.

But you hate the way your voice had trembled when you spoke earlier, so you let it lay in your mind.

You hear Aemond sigh, then there is a shadow falling over you. You look up just as he starts to bend down, both knees on the ground to level with you. His face sullen, and sorry. 

“I…” He takes a swallow, looking down at his hands he had on his lap. “I apologize deeply… for snapping at you when you did not deserve any heat of my ire. And for whisking you away in here without even asking… If you want to leave and go to the tourney instead, I will not stop you.”

You press your lips together, head shaking. Snowball is blinking up at you, awaking from his slumber, stretching his limbs in a yawn before curling up again, purring loud. You start to stroke his fur again as you tell Aemond, “I am content right here.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure Forrest would want you there, cheering for him.”

Smiling, you hum, “I’m sure he does… But I’ve spent my life watching him train all the time. It has become a bore. I do hope he wins though… he is determined to prove to Willam that he is the better warrior out of them…” You sigh, chuckling to yourself. “Those two are always butting heads… and swords.”

Aemond huffs out a laugh, smiling at each other, as if sharing a silent secret.

Then you take his hands from his lap, holding it in yours. It forces him to gaze into your eyes, his own violet eye sheepish. It is that soft look of his that has you confessing straight from your heart, “I did not come to King’s Landing for a tourney, or a wedding, or anything or anyone else.. I came to King's Landing for you, Aemond Targaryen. My best friend.”

Then you pull one hand away from him to pat the floor beside you, inviting him to sit with you.

“And I intend to spend all my time here with you, whether you like it or not.”

Aemond exhales a shuddering breath, as if he had been holding it the whole while you were speaking, then nods before he crawls and takes his place by your side, his hand still holding yours. 

From your other side, you pick up a book on the floor, the one you had picked out earlier from a shelf when he was all taciturn and morose, and hand it over to him. 

His eye widens as he recognizes the cover, “This is…” 

You grin at him. It is his favorite book. One that he talked to you about often but could have never brought to Bear Island because of how big and heavy it was. He had told you many times over the years that once you visit him, he will read it for you, over and over again, until you have it memorized, until you are sick of it. So…

You lean close to him, whispering so soft yet he feels the tickle of your breath on his lips, “Can you read for me, Aemond?”

Aemond wets his lips, glancing from your pretty mouth to your big doe eyes, not knowing he had been leaning closer and closer with every passing second. Just when you were about to flutter your eyelids close, Aemond catches himself and moves back, smiles your way, tender and true. 

Although a bit disappointed, he has you humming sweetly as you let him wrap his arm around your shoulder and pulls you tight towards him, getting comfortable in each other's company — like the two of you are little kids again in the common room of Mormont Keep – and he opens the book and reads.

--

It was impossible for Aemond to not lose track of time when your head is on his shoulder, your light laughter and clever commentary like music in his ears, and your heartbeat beating like one with his, lulling him deeper and deeper in that dreamland you two had created in the privacy of that library.

As the sun outside starts to set, the fire burning in the room gets brighter and brighter — but it is Snowball’s whining for food that has Aemond realizing that it is late. Really late.

The tournament is surely over and the wedding— 

Seven hells. The wedding.

Aemond shakes you, stirring you awake from the sleep you had just succumbed to moments ago. He feels awful for it, wishing he could just let you rest on his shoulder like he wants to, but he has a duty to perform. Always the good and honorable son.

You don’t protest or whine, grasping the situation quickly, and he takes your hand to pull you up, taking off with one another.

Luckily, the two of you manage to make it to the Great Hall in time. 

You catch sight of your brother-in-law close to the back, towering over the other guests, and you easily weave through the many bodies to slip beside your sister, her grin wide and happy to see you as she pulls you close with her arm around your hips.

Aemond, though, strides confidently down the middle of the hall, no one the wiser that he is late with how sure he carries himself. Except for his older brother, already standing in his place and waiting for his bride-to-be (wiggling his brows at Aemond when the younger passes him by, slyly making a gesture with one hand making a circle with his fingers and the other has two straighten out, pushing them towards the other) and his mother (clearly disappointed in Aemond’s unusual tardiness and confused as to why he wasn’t wearing the formal clothes she had his chambermaids lay out for him) — both to which he ignores, to take his place beside his younger brother, Daeron.

It is good that Daeron knows the time and place when to tease, can gauge how people are feeling, and so he just grins placidly at Aemond, before both their attention towards the opening of the huge double door of the Great Hall, the wedding about to begin.

---

The wedding was beautiful. Well, as beautiful as a loveless marriage between two siblings could be. Aegon was completely out of it, not bothering to hide how bored and listless he was, and Helaena was meek and quiet when she repeated her vows.  

As Aemond watches them walk back down the long hall together, he cannot help but feel pity – for the both of them.

Yes, Aegon may be a twat but it must be a terrible weight on his shoulder. That ever since he was young, this was what he was destined for, out of duty for his family and the crown. Perhaps it is the reason he grew up to be so horrible, why he drinks, why he is the way he is.

And Helaena – sweet and dear, Helaena – could have had a pick of anyone she wanted, but here she is, stuck with her rude and crass, older brother.

As the crowd starts to disperse, Aemond stands there, thinking about you. How you and him could have a wedding ceremony just like this when he finally tells you how he feels for you. It will be even more grand and gorgeous because that is what you deserve, and because he loves you.

Or… Would he also be forced into a political marriage, to create a stronger alliance with some House that would never feel like a family to him like yours have? Forced to wed someone he does not love, while you slip through his fingers, married to another?

He swallows the lump in his throat, shaking away the dreaded thought.

Aemond’s eye searches for you now, knowing one look at you will bring him back to the library, bring him back that peace of mind you and him created in there, away from all this. He thinks he spies you near the back, but he quickly loses sight of you in the masses of guests heading out the Great Hall to get ready for the celebratory feast. 

Though before he can move to really look for you, his mother grabs his arm and leads him to the back doors of the Great Hall, chastising to get properly dressed. Aemond looks back over his shoulder and sees the hall almost completely empty. He frowns, guessing he’ll have to wait to see you again.

---

After the wedding ceremony, you head back to your guest chamber, the swarm of guests leaving the Great Hall did not allow you to do anything else. Your sister accompanies you so the two of you can get ready for the dinner celebration together. 

Dorothea has you sitting at the vanity, brushing careful strokes into your hair, making it shiny and pretty for the night. Your eyes are closed, humming in content. You miss this, it is like when you were little girls. You’d put up more of a fight back then but now…

Opening your eyes, you place a hand over Dorothea’s, stopping her mid-brush to find your gaze through the looking glass in front of you. “Come back to Bear Island with us. It’s been awfully lonely without you around.”

Dorothea looks down, hiding her smile, putting the hairbrush down to start braiding your hair in the way the pretty ladies in King’s Landing do. “I never thought I’d hear this from you. You’ve always been closer to our brothers than with me.”

“That’s not true!” You protest, shaking your head. Dorothea tuts and forces you to still. “I may jest with them more, but you have always been my favorite.”

Dorothea chuckles at that. “You are awfully bold tonight.”

Pouting, you whine in a way that only a little sister can get away with, “Can’t a girl just say what is in her heart without being questioned so much so?”

“Then tell me… Have you told the prince how you felt about him?”

This time, it is you who looks away from Dorothea’s gaze through the mirror. “I did not come here to burden him with my feelings.”

Your sister sighs. “You will not be burdening him with your feelings. Don't you see the way he looks at you?”

You bite down at your lower lip, not sure what hurts more – how your sister is pulling your hair back so tight that your face stretches with it or the hollow feeling in your chest. “I do… but… you were at the wedding. The princess and prince hold no love for one another, not even familial love… And Aemond… he is also the son of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. In line for the Iron Throne… We— it’s not a match, the two of us. As much as I want it to be.”

Dorothea frowns, letting your hair free to walk around you to kneel in front of you. She takes you by the shoulders to make you look her in the eyes, properly this time. “Don’t say that, little cub.”

You sniff, holding back the incoming tears. “Our house… it’s… We’re not…” You lick your lips, trying again, “What will they gain from letting Aemond marry me?”

Dorothea squeezes your shoulders in reassurance, then says, “They will gain a wonderful daughter-in-law. One who is smart, and strong, and stupidly stubborn, but lovable nonetheless. One that adores their son so much and looks at him as if he puts the stars in the sky.”

You manage to smile at her words, albeit one that is watery and sad. 

“I don’t think that is enough,” you whisper to her, voice trembling for the second time that day.

Dorothea purses her lips together. Her silence an admission that you may be right.

---

When it came time to head to the Queen’s Ballroom for the wedding feast, it is like you and your sister did not have that talk at all, laughing together as you walk hand-in-hand. Following behind you two are your Lord Father, Lord Grover Tully, and his two grandsons, Elmo Tully, and Dorothea’s husband, Tobias Tully.

You are so content with your sister’s company that you do notice all the handsome lords that make eyes at you when you pass them by. Instead, you are more entranced by the delicious food filling the many tables, taking your pick and then offering a piece to your sister and father whenever you find something so mouthwateringly good. 

You were in the process of popping a stuffed olive into your mouth when someone chose to slide up behind, shouting your name and startling you to choke on the darn thing. 

“You idiot,” Dorothea hisses at her twin brother as she pats on your back to aid dislodge the olive stuck in your throat. 

“I’m sorry, I did not– Are you alright, little cub?!” Forrest exclaims with worry, smacking his palm on your back as well. Finally, you cough out the olive, and thank the Gods for Dorothea, as she slides a small plate in front of you – making the sticky and wet olive fall on it instead of in your hand.

While Dorothea berates her twin, Forrest keeps asking if you were really alright. You wave him off with a laugh.

“Are you sure? Really sure?”

“Yes, Forrest. I’m quite sure,” you say once more with a playful roll of your eyes.

“Good,” Forrest sighs. “I was quite worried… Also for the fact I didn’t see you at the Tourney.”

“I was… Elsewhere. But I heard you got second! Congratulations!”

Forrest pouts now. “Thank you, but… I wanted to ask for your favor. I had to settle for Dorothea’s and I think that is why I did not win.”

Dorothea glares at him and snaps, “I can hear you, you know?”

Forrest throws a cheeky grin her way that has her eyes rolling, turning her attention towards her husband instead.

“But are you sure you are alright?” Forrest asks as he takes a careful hold of your hands, voice low and firm so only the two of you can hear. “I’m asking seriously this time… That scene in the training yard with Ae and his nephews… I’ve never seen him like that before.”

You squeeze your brother’s hands reassuringly. “It is alright. He has apologized.”

Forrest hums, frowning, but takes your word for it. Then he straightens up, happy-go-lucky Forrest again. “Then will you join me to sup tonight? Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra asked me to their table. They were quite impressed with my skills at the tourney. And well…” He whispers the next part, a teasing smirk on his lips, “There is a certain Velaryon boy that was quite taken by you, and they want you to join them as well.”

Before you can even accept or refuse, Dorothea nudges Forrest aside to wrap her arm around yours, as if to claim you for the night. “Nuh-uh. Our sister is to sit with me and my Lord-Husband tonight,” then to you she asks giddily, “Do you remember Jeremy Strong? Ser Fallon Strong’s second youngest? Well, ever since you visited Riverrun for my wedding, he had been asking about you and well, before, with the whole… situation, I let him down easy. But now after our talk…”

“A Strong? Over a Velaryon Prince for our lovely sister?” Forrest scoffs quietly. “You are a terrible matchmaker, Thea.”

“Titles and Family Names should not matter. What matters is a good man. You should know that, dear Forrest, with all your canoodling with the Stark —”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you both–” Your father cuts in, smiling fondly at his children before standing at your side. “But our little cub and I have been formally invited to dine with the King and the Queen tonight… And that is an invitation we simply cannot refuse.” 

Then without another word, your father takes you by the arm, leading you away from your siblings that are as dumbfounded as you are.

---

Aemond is running late again. So late, in fact, that his mother has Daeron knocking on his door to chaperone him to the feast. 

It puts Aemond in a foul mood. Or perhaps, fouler than the one he was in before, when he was all alone in his bedchamber, stewing in dreadful thoughts about the future – the reason he is running late in the first place.

Aemond waves off Daeron in a way that could also be interpreted as a more polite way of Aemond flipping him off. The youngest prince just shrugs, and follows closely behind his older brother as they make their way to the ballroom together.

Aemond thought that maybe once they reach the ballroom that he’ll be free to mingle, be free to find you. But of course it cannot be that easy, because what they find when they arrive is Ser Criston, waiting for them near the entrance of the ballroom to lead them straight to the main table of the room. 

With not many options on where to sit now that almost all the guests have taken a seat at a table, Aemond plops down on the chair beside his mother, all sulky and surly. 

Aegon is to his right, takes one look at the One-Eyed Prince’s face and laughs, hard – clearly already in his cups. Aemond simply shifts his body slightly more to the left to ignore him. 

Only two empty chairs remain at their table beside Prince Daeron, who is sitting directly across Aemond. At first, Aemond thought it would be for his half-sister and heir to the throne, Princess Rhaenyra, and her uncle-husband, Prince Daemon, but he spies them at another table with Rhaenyra’s bastard children, and Princess Rhaenys and her granddaughters. It was probably by his mother’s arrangement to not sit them at their table — if it were up to his father, they would be by his side. His mother – though petty at times – would rather not ruin her two beloved childrens’ wedding day and end it with another huge family feud.

So who would be sitting on those empty chairs? From looking around, Aemond sees all his immediate family already sat. Could it be for the twin knights, Ser Arryk and Erryk Cargyll, the former being the champion of the Tournament, or maybe –

Suddenly, the Queen rises, beaming with joy. “Our guest of honor! It is lovely to see you two!”

Aemond glances over to who his mother is speaking to and what he sees has his eye widening, body moving on its own as he is standing up too.

Because it is you, standing right there at the other side of the table beside your father, and looking like an absolute daydream in that dress — no, the dress, the one he gifted you for your sixteenth name day. 

Aemond had often dreamt about you wearing the cream colored dress ever since he got a look at it – how lovely the color would look against your skin, the way your dainty collarbones and shoulders will be on display due to the off the shoulder sleeves, and the elegant way you would move around him in it.

But, as you often proved, dreams could never compare to the brilliant reality of you. 

He can’t keep his eye off of you. You have completely stolen his breath away — and his heart, once again.

He can tell you were very nervous, with the way your fingers twist together in front of you. But then your eyes meet his and you are exhaling out air as you stand up a little straighter, more sure of yourself.

Aemond smiles to himself. It is nice to know that he gives you as much ease as you give him.

“Sorry for the tardiness, your Grace,” your father apologizes, bowing his head at the Queen and the King. 

“It’s alright, Lord Mormont,” The Queen shakes off with a kind smile. “The invitation was quite last minute, so I thank you for gracing us with your presence.”

Then she puts a hand on Aemond’s arm, a gesture for him to stay put, before she rounds the table to greet you and your father.

Queen Alicent talks to your father first, thanking him once again for taking care and bringing back Aemond safely all those years ago, and for always welcoming him to your home. Then King Viserys pipes up from the seat over where the Queen had been, too weak to stand up to greet your father properly, but your father leans over the table to shake his hand, and they start to converse as if old and very close friends. 

That has the Queen’s attention flicking to you, and she smiles at you in a way that seems like she is about to burst into tears. Then you are being pulled into her tight embrace.

“It is so wonderful to finally meet you,” the Queen says softly into your ear. “Thank you for being such a good friend to our dearest Aemond.” 

Alicent pulls back, but her hands are now on your arms. “I have heard so many wonderful things about you.”

You glance down bashfully. “Thank you, your Grace. I heard many a great things about you too.”

Neither of you hear Aegon’s comment, “Well, of course. Aemond, the mommy’s boy,” or how said ‘mommy’s boy’ kicks his shin from underneath the table.

Alicent then looks you over. Even if her stare is anything but scrutinizing, you still felt very self-conscious. The Queen is the very definition of perfection, and you cannot help but think of all your flaws in that very moment. Is your hair all in place? Is there food stuck in your teeth? What will she think about that scar you have on your arm from sparring with Jorah when you were young?

“You are such a darling girl,” Queen Alicent declares. “So pretty…” She then gasps, “Is this the dress Aemond and I have gotten made for you?”

You nod in confirmation. “It is. Thank you graciously, your grace.”

Alicent sighs, head shaking as she smiles at you and squeezes your arms. “Lovely…”

Then she breaks away fully, gesturing at the empty chairs for you and your father, “Come, sit! Sit!”

And when you take a seat, that is when Aemond finally sits down too. 

You share a smile with your best friend, before turning to your left to greet his younger brother. Prince Daeron gives you a handsome grin and takes your hand to shake. But before you can take your hand back, he leans in close and murmurs hotly in your ear, “I would kiss your hand, but I heard whispers about what my dear brother did earlier to our nephew… And I’d rather keep my head, no matter how absolutely divine you are.”

You are a flush when he pulls away, the youngest prince silently laughing to himself, and your prince at the other side of the table narrows his eye in question at the exchange.

The main course of the dinner arrives and soon the Queen’s Ballroom is alive with joyous laughter and utensils scraping on plates. You are slow to eat and drink, afraid if you are not careful, you will stain your pretty dress with something you cannot get off of it. This also means you are a lot more sober than anyone else around you – even Aemond, who does not drink much or often. 

He is so relaxed and happy, often looking towards you with that sweet smile on his face. 

From beside him, his mother seems quite tipsy as well. She is staring at you, her chin in the palm of her hand.

“I apologize, Lady Mormont, I can’t seem to stop myself from looking at you,” Queen Alicent confesses, head tilting with a sigh. “You look even more gorgeous than that stunning painting Aemond has of you in his –”

“Mother!” Aemond sharply barks, the tip of his ears immediately burning bright red.

Maybe you are not as sober as you thought, because, what?

“Painting…? What painting?” You ask, confused. 

Alicent is silent now, realizing she had blurted out something her son did not want you to know.

“Oh, right! That one!” Aegon exclaims, as if suddenly remembering. “The one that Aemond surely jerks it—”

The oldest prince groans, doubling over. The one responsible does not look sorry at all but just miserable now, his fingers pressed to his temple.

Luckily for Aemond’s (and Aegon’s) life, your father had gotten up moments before to chat with Forrest at his table.

“It is quite life-like!” Princess Helaena gleefully adds on from beside her brother-husband. “It looks exactly like you!”

Befuddled even more, your brows crease closer together. You try to get your best friend’s attention to make things a bit clearer, “Aemond..?”

But the one-eyed Prince is so embarrassed that he refuses to acknowledge you — leaving you in turmoil for the rest of the dinner. 

---

Even when the plates start getting cleared away, Aemond still does not say one word to you. 

Prince Daeron tries to ease the tension, making small talk with you about things that his brother could easily input a thought or two in. But Aemond doesn’t take the bait, not even then Daeron kicks him from under the table.

Although Prince Daeron is quite nice to talk to, you still felt very out of place – especially with how Aemond is ignoring you. 

Every passing second, your smile feels more and more forced – until you cannot do it anymore, choosing to stare at your hands on your lap instead, making yourself small. 

Seeing you like that has Prince Daeron huffing and shaking his head at the stupidity of his brother, and he decides to take matters into his own hands. He stands then and turns towards you, “Lady Mormont, will you honour me with a dance?”

With his jaw clenching at the question posed, Aemond feels your gaze turning to him, but he keeps his steady on the wall. You stare at his profile for another moment or two, then resign yourself to the fact that you are not going to get anything out of him – maybe not even for the rest of the night. So with a tight smile, you take Prince Daeron’s hand. “Of course, my Prince.”

As the youngest prince leads you out to where the other guests are dancing, Prince Aegon laughs out loud when Aemond furiously inhales deeply. “Seven hells, you’re an idiot.”

And for once in his life, Aemond thinks that Aegon might be right.

---

Aemond is watching you now, once again cannot take his eye off of you.

How can he when you are laughing so prettily, smiling freely, spinning around and around, and enchanting everyone with every twirl of your dress?

But he can’t even bring himself to find a little bit of joy for your happiness, not when the ones giving it to you are the admirers after admirers asking for your hand to dance, tripping over themselves to have even a morsel of your precious time.

Aemond is wild with jealousy, seething as he has Ser Criston murmuring in his ear who each one was.

Lord Thorin Tyrell. Ser Jonas Lannister. Lord Thomas Vance. Lord Alwyn Swyft. 

And the one who currently has his arms around you now, making you beam from ear to ear, is Lord Jeremy Strong .

It’s nauseating, but at least it is not that bastard, Jacaerys. He has noticed his nephew making eyes at you all night. But he might not be as daft as he looks because he keeps his distance. Maybe what happened that afternoon still burned in his mind.

Good, Aemond sneers in his head, glaring at where Jace leans against a bannister, moping.

That is when Aemond realizes he is doing the same pitiful thing. 

Feeling sorry for himself as he lets others get what he wants. It’s pathetic.

Having had enough, Aemond stands and straightens out his cufflinks before stalking his way to you.

As he gets nearer, he overhears the conversation you are having with the Lord leading you around the dancefloor.

“I did not mean to offend you, Jeremy. If I had known you were the one that made the dish, I wouldn’t have—”

“Wouldn’t have… so blatantly said it was revolting in front of me?”

“That was not the word I used! I just said it was bad!”

“Well, if it pleases you to hear, my Lady… I, uh, have gotten better at it.”

“...Truly?”

“Don’t– Don’t look so doubtful! Maybe I can, um, show you some time, how does breakfast–”

Aemond has to refrain his eye from rolling. Instead, he takes an interjecting step towards the two of you, his looming presence intense enough to halt you completely from moving even an inch.

When your eyes round at him, he simply smirks.  “Lady Mormont, I believe I am owed a dance.”

You glance at Lord Strong, smile apologetic as you take your hands off him, a faint thank you for the dance out of your lips.

Aemond does not even spare a single glance at your partner for the whole interaction, his eye only on you. He hears the Lord murmur a low my prince out of respect, but Aemond doesn’t acknowledge it, just overtakes the Lord’s place in front of you, placing his hands possessively on your hips. 

Although you put your hands on Aemond’s arms – thus accepting his invitation to dance – your gaze follows the retreating back of your previous dancing partner, a frown worrying your features. Then your fierce glare is on him, “That was pretty rude of you, don’t you think, my Prince?”

He should be happy that’s what he got out of me after he dare thinks he could just court you so easily at my home, in front of me, Aemond thinks uncivilly , Vhagar is itching to burn something alive.

But it would be unwise to say all that out loud, so he just presses his mouth together and holds his chin up a little higher, as if to let you know that what he is going to say next is not at all genuine, “I apologize for my very impertinent behavior towards Lord Strong. It shall not happen again.”

Your look of exasperation does not falter, but you do not move away, not even when Aemond pulls you to him a little more closer.

“I do also apologize though, for how I treated you at the dinner table,” Aemond murmurs, this time sincere. He takes a swallow, frowning. “I was… uncomfortable with some things that came to light. I could not face you to preserve my own selfish pride, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

You cannot help it, you are too soft for him. Your anger just dissipates away. Your hand skims down his arm, comforting him as you sway slowly together with the music from the band, “You’ve been apologizing to me quite a lot today, my prince.”

Aemond hums, head bowing low, his breath tickling your cheek when he speaks, “I intend to make it up to you, enkelitsos.” 

From beneath your lashes, you peer at his hungry gaze, your nervous voice shyly asking, “And how will you do that, my prince?”

And again, as if gravity is simply forcing the two of you to each other, the distance between you and the prince closes in more. 

Too close to be appropriate in a hall full of nobles, with eyes that see and mouths that talk. 

From the main table, Queen Alicent is one of those eyes and mouth. Fondly, she leans to her husband to comment, “Aemond looks so smitten.”

But beside the jovially laughing King, the man with the gold hand pinned on his chest watches too – disapproval strong in the lines of his face.

---

With the Bedding Ceremony underway, it is easier for Prince Aemond to sneak you into his bedchamber. Still, if the two of you were caught, the punishment will be harsh. But he has one goal in mind and he intends to see it through – to show you the painting that caused quite a stir at dinner.

“I promise you it is not as strange as you think it is,” Aemond says, his hand holding yours as he leads you carefully yet swiftly through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast.

You huff, pressing your back against the wall when Aemond does, watching as the prince peers around the corner. “Do not put words into my mouth, Aemond! I do not think it is strange. I just want to know what it is!”

“It’s–” he stops, then he is tugging you to move again, across the hall and into a door that leads to a stone staircase. As you climb the steps with him, Aemond continues, “Well, you’ll see soon. We’re almost there.”

Your heartbeat is beating so fast at the thrill of all the sneaking around. But as exhilarating as it is, you were delighted to finally be pulled into the safety of Aemond’s bedchamber, to allow the pulsing in your veins to finally calm and to breathe normally again.

Or at least you try… Because it is then when it comes to you that you are in Aemond’s bedchamber, alone with the prince.

You don't know how you do it, but you are the perfect image of serenity when you glance around the room to take everything in.

Nothing there was really surprising to you. He keeps his own bedchamber the same way he kept the guest chamber that is his in Mormont Keep – pristine, and not a thing out of place. But there are things around that make your heart sing with delight –  the little gifts you and your family have given the prince throughout the years. 

The long black leather gloves that Jorah made, with an embroidered red of the House Targaryen sigil by you on the cuffs, hanging on the handle of his armoire. Wooden Cyvasse pieces crafted by Braeden on a fancy marbled Cyvasse board — reminding you that Aemond still hasn’t beaten your oldest brother yet. The leather ball by the foot of his bed, the one that he kicked in the goal and earned a victorious win with Forrest in a game of mob football with the other kids on the island. A very amateur drawing you made of you and him riding Vhagar in a golden frame on the bedside table. A leather bound journal on his desk, gifted by your mother and father, looking well-loved and well-used. And many, many more.

He keeps it intertwined with his other things, as if they are as precious as the golds, jewels, and all the other clearly more valuable items he has.

And that is when you see it, hanging on the wall opposite of his bed, surrounded by the golden ornate frame, is you — brought to life on a canvas by talented strokes of rich oil paints. 

“This… Dorothea painted this,” you inform Aemond – who stands in the center of the room with his hand nervously clasped behind his back – as if he already did not know. 

“Yes, she did.”

As you continue to stare at the painting in disbelief, you start to recount, “I… I remember this day so clearly. She made me sit in her room for hours and hours – seven to be exact. Believe me, I counted. And then after she was finished… The next day, it was just… gone . I was mad at her for weeks. I couldn’t believe how she wasted my time, and she cannot even explain how it disappeared. But now—” You look at him, a mirthful smile on your lips, “She sent it to you.”

Aemond nods slow, taking steps to meet you by your side. “When I couldn’t travel to visit you, I was slowly succumbing to a state of dep—” he clears his throat, and tries again, “Deep discontent. I just wanted to see you, but I could not. So I sent Dorothea a letter in hopes that she can provide me with a picture of you. I just wanted something small but what she sent back was… Well, I am grateful, but I asked her not to tell you about it. Not even the part where I wanted a picture in the first place.” 

“Oh Gods,” you mutter, slapping a palm on your forehead. You remember that too. When you start to laugh, Aemond looks down at you with confusion.

“I thought you were writing those letters to Dorothea because you were courting her,” you say in between fits of giggles. So all those days you spent crying in bed were all for nothing? How your heart only truly mended when you watched Dorothea make her way down the aisle because that means that Aemond could not have her anymore? You feel so utterly silly. 

There is a grimace on Aemond’s face that makes you laugh even harder. “She was so secretive with them, so I did not know what else to think!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Aemond says, as if you are offending him. “I could never look at Dorothea in that way.”

“And why not? ” Now it’s your turn to be offended, on behalf of your sister. “Everyone is in love with Dorothea! She’s so pretty, and clearly very talented, and so polite, and—”

The way Aemond takes your hands in his has you shutting up your prattling. 

The prince shifts closer, your hands intertwined together over his heart, his gaze heavy on you as his forehead press against yours.

“Because I…” he breathes, and his mouth – his sinfully alluring mouth, crafted so prettily by the Gods – so close to yours, only breadths away. It is hard to tear your attention away from the way his tongue peeks out of to wet his lips, but you do, only to witness the beauty of his violet eye just as he confesses, “I’ve only ever had eyes for you.”

And you don’t even know who makes the first move. It might have been you. It might have been him. But his mouth is on yours, and yours are on his, and that is all that matters. 

Aemond’s lips are as heavenly as you dreamt them to be. So soft yet firm, and he knows the right pressure to apply with them to have you moaning against his mouth. 

You feel his smile, and he murmurs how delectable you are before his tongue laves along the seam of your lips, asking for permission. You give in to him, also craving for more. 

As the kiss deepens, you pull your hands away from his to wrap around his strong shoulders, and he places his own greedy on your hips, gripping tight onto the willowy fabric of your dress. You feel like you should be embarrassed about the needy, whimpering sounds you are making, but you’re not. 

Aemond starts moving now, pulling you back with him, though his hungry lips stay attacking your lips. Although your own kisses are unpracticed, it fills you with some strange sort of satisfaction that you have the prince panting in your mouth, desperate for more. His mouth so hot you are getting delirious.

“Aemond…” you gasp, so sweetly, when you part for an intake of air. The prince growls, nipping along the underside of your jaw. “Please…”

You don’t even know what you are asking for.

He turns you around, so sudden it has you gasping and grasping onto the footboard of his bed. His lips are quick to latch back on your skin, mouthing down the side of your neck while his fingers unties the lacing on the back of your dress. With every undoing of the silk ribbon, the bustier gets looser, causing your breast to spill out, the heat of Aemond’s palm on one of them without a moment’s delay, squeezing. 

Your whole body is lit ablaze, burning hotter and hotter as more and more of you is becoming exposed to Aemond’s eye as your dress starts to fall – his mouth now kissing down your spine, following the fabric down –  and drops onto a heap on the tiled floor.

Then Aemond is straightening up, his hands tender on you, skimming across your shoulders, putting your nerves at ease under his touch. 

“Gevie… ” He whispers hotly in your ear, his fingers now in your hair, undoing the braids and letting the strands free. You know that one, gevie, a word he taught you after you had wanted to compliment Vhagar. 

Beautiful . 

Your eyes flutter shut, humming under his gentle ministration. 

And that is when you feel him, hard, pressed against your lower back, rubbing onto you. You bite down your bottom lip, suppressing a wanton moan.

Once he is done with undoing all the intricate braids in your hair, he is turning you around again to face him, this time more gentle. You are a flush, his eye roaming on your bare body – completely and wholeheartedly just for him.

You don’t know how or why, but you don’t feel self conscious at all under the heated gaze of your prince. If anything, you might be bolder, standing on the tip of your toes to press another desperate kiss on Aemond’s lips.

“I want you so much,” he tells you; voice low, breath heavy, and eye full of lust. 

Your lashes flutter at him, smiling wide as you cannot contain the happiness inside from bursting out. “And I want just as much. Perhaps, more.”

He takes your hand, his grinning lips grazing the knuckles. “I don’t think that is possible.”

Then he leads around to the side of the bed, lays you down with such care, your head landing gently on the rich duvet. He does not join you, not yet, still standing beside the bed frame.

You call for him, desire burning between your thighs. 

What is he waiting for?

You sit up your elbows to watch him, watching you as he wordlessly unfastens the sashed belt around his waist and unbuttons the form-fitting leather tunic he is wearing, stripping both off unceremoniously. Your mouth gapes open at the sight of his marbled and broad chest, marveling at how gorgeously toned it is, defined by years and years of special training. 

There is a cocky smirk on his lips as he starts to unlace his breeches. His ego inflating as you eye the thickness of him with a hard swallow. He takes himself in his hand while he kicks away the rest of his clothes – now as naked as you are.

He crawls onto the bed now, his knee sliding in between your thighs, his mouth on yours again – he simply cannot get enough. 

You cannot not think straight, you need him so much it makes you dizzy. You need to ground yourself, so you touch his chest, feel the solid planes of it, his heartbeat beating fast underneath your palm. It makes you feel so safe. Aemond makes you feel so safe.

Aemond’s hands are roaming too, worshiping every inch of your body as if you are the altar he prays to. Fondling your breast, tweaking your nipples until they harden, clutching at your hips and your thighs so hard that it will leave bruises…  And then his fingers – your heartbeat speeding up so — his fingers trail along the juncture of your thigh, so close to where you want him most. 

You moan wantonly, throwing your head back and baring your neck for him. Without even noticing, you also part your thighs further apart, allowing him easier access.

“Needy ,” he tuts with a huffed out chuckle, teeth biting to leave a mark on the underside of your jaw. Aemond looks down to where his hand is, exhaling out a shaky breath as fingers slide closer to the dewy folds of your precious cunt. He groans when he finds you dripping wet, and it’s because of him. All for him. “So bloody needy.”

His fingers make a mess of you, rubbing so firmly yet tenderly at your sensitive clit. You’ve done this to yourself before, but somehow the way Aemond does it feels different. Better . He has your hips moving on its own, your mouth crying out his name, and your cunt clenching, begging to be filled.

Then a finger starts to press inside you — thicker than your own, thicker than what you are used to. 

Aemond sees how you squeeze your eyes shut, and he stills. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes flutter open to Aemond’s face of concern, and you quickly nod, clutching a hand on his arm. “Yes, please keep going.”

He watches you carefully for a moment, to make sure this is what you really want. When he deems your words true, he starts to move his hand again, his finger slowly sliding in and out of your entrance, coming out wetter and wetter each time. You start to pant softly, licks of pleasure rolling through you.

He eases another digit in, scissoring the two apart inside of you. You bite your lip, hips lifting off the bed at the slightly uncomfortable feeling. But it doesn’t take long for the fuzzy, good feeling to take over you again. So much so that when he presses his thumb on your clit again, you start to tremble, whimpering as you peak for the first time, your sweet juices spilling over his fingers and onto the sheet beneath you.

“You’re so good for me, enkelitsos,” your prince praises, has you preening underneath him as he places a kiss on each of your eyelids, the tip of your nose, and your lips. He then sits up on his knees, palming his hard cock again. Still trying to catch your breath, you watch in fascination as he spreads the precum beading at the tip along the rest of him. “Think you can take me now?”

Although extremely nervous, you find yourself nodding at Aemond.

You have had lessons about this before, about the deflowering, from your mother, your septa, and even Dorothea, but never in great detail. You do not know what to expect.

But what you do know is that Aemond will treat you right.

He bends over you, one hand gripping his cock while the other is beside your head, pressed against the bed to keep him from falling on top of you. He teases the tip of him on your still sensitive nub, making you shiver, sliding himself up and down along your folds to build up anticipation. But his set on torturing you has the same affect on himself. Not when you feel so warm and good and was so tight around just two of his fingers.

Aemond curses under his breath, unable to put it off anymore. He guides his cock to the entrance of your cunt, pushing inside with a low, impassioned groan.

You are so bloody tight, it feels too good. But he knows you need to adjust to his size, the rapid clenching of your walls letting him know you are trying to get used to his cock.

He sees you blinking away the tears. It hurts, but not as much as you thought it would. 

“Tell me when you’re ready,” Aemond murmurs as his head falls, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, finding comfort there as he inhales the scent of you. 

And in that moment, you knew you are so full of love for him, snuffling as you nudge your nose into his hair. “I’m ready, Aemond.”

He peers at you, his hand finding yours, intertwining together as he starts to move.

He fills you to the brim in one slow thrust, hilting as his hips knock against yours. You are stretched tight around his throbbing cock, the pushing and pulling building up something fierce inside of you. He buries himself deep inside, over and over again, slamming into you like a man possessed. 

The heat of his mouth is burning like the dragon he is, open above yours, hovering and close enough to touch, but they don’t — only moaning your passion for each other.

He pulls you up suddenly, still deep inside you. Has you sitting on his lap, hands gripping on your hips as he makes you move, making you bounce on his cock. He sets the pace, and you are completely under his control, letting him with no regret.

“Ae!” You cry out, feeling him hit so deep, the head of his cock probably already breaching the deepest parts of you. Your arms are wrapped tight around him, tears streaming from your eyes, all out of pleasure and none out of pain. 

“Peak for me, my love,” Aemond demands, an animalistic growl rumbling his throat. “Come all over my cock as I spill my seed inside you.”

And you do. Breaking again just as his cum fills you up, just like he promised.

He kisses you deeply one last time before you are both flopping on his bed, completely boneless and aching with exhaustion.

You lay there for some time in your lover’s embrace, completely content in the silence save for the evening out of both your heavy breathing. 

Is it possible to be this happy? You must have saved a million lives in your past life for just this moment. You cannot believe how lucky you are to fall in love with your best friend.

To have someone you love everything about.

“Eye…” You say softly, but it still breaks the quiet between you. Aemond hums in question, his fingertips absentmindedly trailing over your skin, just to feel you. You roll to your side to look at him, his hand gripping your hip when you do so. “Eye… you only have an eye for me. Earlier you said eyes , during your confession. But, you only have one …”

That has Aemond spluttering, mouth opening and closing in sheer disbelief. 

And then he is laughing, fingers digging into your sides, tickling you into a fit of giggles. “You cheeky, little…”

As you two laugh, you grab onto his face to press a sweet kiss on his lips. When you pull away, he is not laughing anymore, and neither are you. You lick your lips, staring into his violet eyes, “But this one eye.. It is the beautiful eye I fell in love with… When you opened them to look at me that first night.”

Aemond’s eye waters as he lets out a shaky breath, pressing a kiss on your inner wrist. Then his hand is moving behind his head, unclasping his eyepatch. 

It has you holding your breath. You have not seen Aemond without his eyepatch since the first time he landed on Bear Island. So why is he now taking it off?

As Aemond lets it fall onto his hand, what you see has you gasping softly.

For it is your sapphire there, taking the place of his missing eye.

You reach your hand up, running your thumb tenderly along the bags underneath it. Aemond hums happily, nuzzling his cheek against your palm.

“I keep it here because I… I always want you with me,” he declares. “The woman who has my heart wholeheartedly and for evermore.”

You say his name, so full of fondness. He kisses you fiercely, puts all his feelings in it that he cannot put into words anymore. 

“I want to be selfish now,” you say against his lips, already dreading the thought of leaving him in the morrow. “I want you to write to me everyday. I do not even care if you have nothing at all to say.”

“I will do that, enkelitsos. And many more.”

“Like what?”

Aemond simply smirks, before he is descending kisses down your body, your hand threading into his hair and pulling as his tongue spreads over you. 

---

Prince Aemond sends you off a day later with a tight embrace – stealing your kisses in every shadowed corner of the Keep as the two of you made your way to your father waiting at the gates – and you are barely even out King’s Landing but he is already in his bedchamber, writing you a raven that will be waiting for you when you arrive back home. He will keep good on his promise, writing to you every day. Greedy to steal more of your heart with every prose he writes about how much he loves you, how he cannot wait to see you again, and more salacious things that will make your whole body heat up.

With the first letter done, he makes his way to the rookery. 

When he steps inside, he almost collides into the Hand of the King, his grandfather, Otto Hightower. 

“My apologies, grandfather,” Aemond says, stepping aside to let him pass. 

“It is alright, my prince,” his grandfather says, about to take his leave. 

“Important business?” Aemond cannot help but ask, stopping the Hand on his track. He does not see his grandfather at rookery much — or at all, if he thinks about it. He usually has his serving boys deliver his scrolls to the rookery Maesters. So whatever he is here for is probably important enough for him to hand it off himself. 

“Yes, you can say that…” Otto says with a stiff smile, glances over his shoulder and giving the Maester a solid nod — a silent understanding between them. He then pats his grandson’s arm before walking out the open door. 

Aemond is used to his grandfather’s taciturn ways, so he lets him be, turning to the Maester with a grin. “A raven to Bear Island, if you have the time.”

---

Aemond waits, and waits, and waits. Several moons pass, many letters written, and the couriers traveling back and forth… Still, he gets nothing back at all from you.

And so like the harsh temperament of the North, he fears you have completely iced him out of your life.

[euryite]

Could you please write about first years x really tall reader who is above 6 feet? I'm talking 6'4 - 6'8 🙏🙏🙏 love your writings sm <3

he needs some milk

syn. in which you humble the NRC first years with sheer power (height).

gn!yuu

ACE TRAPPOLA

he’d probably invite you to the basketball club. sorry but i’m right, i’m the writer here. he would.

if you did join, good for you! you can enjoy your time together. kinda.

if you didn’t, though, i’m sorry for you- because this man will literally ask you everyday. 

outside of that though, he’s—

actually, he’s still not that good.

Ace would say he’s a fair person. He doesn’t do anything wrong, he was never rude; honestly? He’s sure he’s a saint.

You, carrying him on your shoulders, would like to say otherwise.

“Uhm, Ace,” you start, sighing exasperatedly before you continue, “why the heck are you on my shoulders? And why do we need to beat up Deuce?”

Ace scoffs haughtily at you, waving his shoulders and causing you to waver a bit, you weren’t really made for carrying others. 

“I’m on your shoulders because we need to beat up Deuce. We’re gonna intimidate him.” The redhead responds, as if anything he said makes sense.

“Ace, what the hell.”

DEUCE SPADE

he’s pretty normal about it. perchance. maybe not.

he probably also assumes you’re good at sports. long legs do have that effect on most people, i guess.

it’s not like he’s a short guy, so he doesn’t really need your help with anything.

he likes to think he doesn’t really care about your height, but you know otherwise.

it’s not like the dude would make fun of you— unlike a certain someone—, so you don’t really have to worry.

You find it kinda funny how Deuce always tries to look like he doesn’t have to crane his neck up to see your face. 

Scratch that, it’s really funny. He’s looking up, but his eyes are kinda looking down. What, is he trying to convince himself there isn’t a difference or something?

Actually, yeah, sounds about right.

Another thing you find funny is the fact that somehow, even with your towering height, Deuce is more intimidating than you. It’s not like you really put any effort into being scary, but it was just a little offensive! 

JACK HOWL

the poor guy experiences culture shock. lol.

he’s been the taller person for, like, most of his life.

imagine his shock when seeing you, a— sorry— rather plain human, being taller. by more than just a little bit.

imagine his shock when he lends his clothes to you, and they don’t even look that big! (unless you’re on the lanky, idia shroud side of tall. but still).

other than a mild and short-lived shock, he just doesn’t really care.

doesn’t seem like the kinda guy to.

you two, together, though? killer combo.

“Uhm.. We said we’re sorry—” the brown-haired 3rd year said, backing up slowly while the two second years behind him quivered— which was funny considering their rugged appearances.

But like, if two people who were well over 6 feet tall just walked up to you in the middle of lunch, demanding you “give grim back his chicken sandwich”, wouldn’t you be pretty scared?!

They didn’t even take it—

“Uhm,” the dark purple haired 2nd year hiding behind the 3rd year squeaks out (sounding very weird considering his deep voice), “I took it. I apologize!”

Oh!

…

All this, and for a literal chicken sandwich that was, what, 15 madol? That isn’t even expensive!

EPEL FELMIER

i’d like to apologize to epel in advance because it would actually look so hilarious to see you two together.

it’d be even funnier if, between the two of you, you were the calmer one. 

if you were the babygirl, so to speak.

there’s not much more to say than that the whiplash seeing you two together could kill a small cat.

When you think of a short student in NRC, the first person that usually comes to mind is Epel Felmier.

The boy in question doesn’t appreciate that.

And when you think of a tall student in NRC— well, a lot come to mind but one of the few most prominent is the Ramshackle prefect.

The prefect in question doesn’t really care.

And therein lies the issue. You don’t care about who is tall and who isn’t, but Epel does care. Very much so.

He eventually learns to be fine with being seen around you, though, even if it does mean his own height comes in comparison with yours.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT

a ‘weak human’.. being around his height? or taller?

culture shock 2.0. i feel so bad for him.

if he were any lesser person, he’d have attempted to recruit you to be a knight.

you’re a weak human, though, so he didn’t. 🤗

be grateful!

are you taller than malleus? you are, right? terrifying.

sebek would ask you to shrink.. sorry, but it’s true.

“WEAK HUMAN!” and just like that, your ears are broken. You don’t even know how you handle him screaming at this volume all the time. You’re dying, Lilia, help.

You look down (scary stuff) to meet his eyes, and he immediately starts talking.

“I’VE NOTICED—“

“Shh, keep it down.”

“Ahem, I’ve noticed that you are taller than the Young Master, so, I humbly request you shrink!”

…

Man, what the fuck.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Be honest with us, Raven-san… did you roll for club Leona and will you roll for Savananclaw Rook? :3c Don’t be shy, you can tell us!

I DIDN'T THOUGH??????? 🤡 I think once I got my (not) L*ona rot out into the open (via this post) it was a lot easier for me to resist throwing rolls at his Clubwear banner... Part of it is also that some of my friends have also been baiting me to roll ("He's waiting for you", "Look at his physique", etc.) and I wanna prove them wrong by showing them that I can resist-- IT'S OKAY, I CAN ALWAYS PULL UP THE ILLUSTRATION AND STARE AT IT WHENEVER I WANT, I DON'T NEED TO WASTE MY PRECIOUS ROLLS ON A FAKE CAT TOSSING AROUND A DISC... (<- cope) P.S. Bless Leona's chest belt thing... It's truly the strongest entity in all of Twisted Wonderland, that poor thing is giving him all the support he needs... I salute it o_o)7

No plans to roll for Savanaclaw Rook either! I appreciate the look (especially the freckles, huntsman bare arms exposure, and fluffy hair!), but I'm not super into the biker/cowboy aesthetic of the dorm uniform no matter who is wearing it or how. Besides 🤢 he’s wearing SHOES ON THE BED, and I don’t stand for that one bit…

Trust me, if I rolled for someone y'all would know about it right away because I'd rush here screaming about how many (or how few) rolls it took for them to come home www 🤡

[storm-and-starlight]

revisiting my opinions on which doctors could pull off Heaven Sent

could do it with minimal alterations to the original episode's plot and dialogue

Twelve - obviously

Eight - could 100% pull off the speeches and the angst and, of course, the memory loss. The episode would definitely be focused a little more on the great tragedy of dying over and over and over again just in the hopes of making it through enough loops to break out, and Eight would be much much more of a sad wet cat about it all, but he could totally pull it off.

Seven - would take a bit more tweaking than Eight (specifically to change the focus of the episode to the puzzle of it all, finding the right room and figuring out the secret of the Veil), but would 100% punch his way through the wall and be able to pull off the speeches.

could maybe do it? but with pretty major edits

Four - definitely has the charisma and the ability to give the speeches, but I don't know if the speeches as written would fit well into how Four talks, and he'd also need the same tweaking at Seven to make it more about solving the mystery, rather than the very atmospheric style of the original. The wall scene would also probably have to be reworked, since Four doesn't really seem like the type to punch through it in the exact same way as Twelve.

Three - could and would punch through the wall and would do it in half the time of Twelve but couldn't carry off the angst or the atmosphere, so you'd need some pretty dramatic rejiggering of the major stylistic choices in order to make it work. Honestly, you might have to really lean into a, like, horror/thriller kinda thing, with the pursuit of the Veil?

could pull off a focus episode but would need a fundamentally different style

Ten/Fourteen - absolutely has the screen presence but they need someone to talk to in order to get it, and the same is true of their problem-solving style. They need someone to bounce off of as an antagonist and as a companion -- basically, they need the same setup as Wild Blue Yonder, which is basically exactly what Fourteen's version of Heaven Sent would be anyways. (Also Ten doesn't do speeches like Twelve does, and definitely wouldn't punch through the wall -- his problem-solving style leans more towards the whole "push a single button that sets off a chain reaction that solves everything" rather than sheer stubborness. He doesn't have the attention span for the wall.)

Nine - Nine also has the screen presence but his comes when he's angry at something, which means that he needs something to yell at, so he would also need another speaking being present in the episode for him to get really really mad at. Think Dalek but without the Rose subplots?

probably not (note: the major reason why none of these work for Heaven Sent is because they're all Doctors that work best with an ensemble cast around them -- they sacrifice intensity and screen-presence for the sake of letting other characters shine)

Eleven - doesn't have the screen presence for that kind of intensity, alas. He could pull off the speeches in his own style, but he's not hypnotic while doing them the same way Twelve is, and he definitely doesn't have the type of personality to pull off the wall. His best emotional episodes are smaller and closer to the heart, and Heaven Sent is anything but small.

Five - could not pull off the speeches or the wall or the puzzle. He's a sweetheart and a golden retriever but he's not nearly dramatic enough to carry a solo episode like that.

Two - same as Five, really

One - just... no. I can't pull out any reasons (it might just be that he's from an era of television that was so very different in how it constructed stories), but no

no clue

Fifteen - hasn't been around long enough for me to get a sense of his personality

Thirteen - never really had a consistent personality in the first place. or any good emotional episodes so I don't feel like I know her well enough to make a judgement call

Six - just straight-up haven't seen very much of his run so I couldn't say how he'd fit in Heaven Sent.

[swanfactory]

LITTLE PURROBLEM

synopsis: dr.ratio is allergic to cats

ft: dr.ratio x gn!reader

tws: modern/college!au, dr.ratio is referred to as veritas, topaz and reader are roommates, numby is a cat

🦢’ note: i kinda sorta really hate this (｡Ó﹏Ò｡). i really like ratio and i wanna write him more so this is like practice ? kinda ??

veritas ratio. not only was he a genius, excelling in all of his classes but he was also incredibly good looking.

some envied him while most others admired him. in many student’s eyes he was perfect.

but contrary to what many believed, veritas was no otherworldly being. he was a human and humans had weaknesses, his just so happen to be cats.

it’s not like he was afraid of them or anything, not at all, but he just couldn’t help sneezing uncontrollably around them. yes, the great veritas ratio was infact allergic to cats.

when you asked him to help you with your worksheet, he surprisingly agreed. you knew he hated working with other people, especially people he deemed less intelligent than he was, but that didn’t apply to you, none of his ‘rules’ applied to you.

ratio felt his nose start tingling before he even set foot in your dorm but he just brushed it off thinking that it must just be some dust laying around in the hallway, but he would soon be proved wrong.

as soon as you both walked inside, numby; your roommate topaz’s cat; came running to greet you at the door like he always did, you cooed at the little feline crouching down to pet it as it nuzzled against your legs but you quickly pulled away once you heard a sneeze, and another one…and another one…when you turned around you saw veritas sneezing uncontrollably with his face buried in his arm.

‘was he sick ?’ you thought ‘no way he was fine just a minute ago’

you looked at him, then back down at numby who was still rubbing his head against your leg, and it clicked. he was allergic.

you shot up from your crouching position, “why didn’t you tell me ?” you asked him

“tell you-“ he got interrupted by yet another sneeze, “tell you what ?”

“that you were allergic to cats”

“why didn’t you tell me…achoo!…that you had a cat” he retorted.

“i don’t. numby is topaz’s cat”

you looked at him and shook your head, trying your hardest not to giggle, his eyes were getting a little watery from all the sneezing and the tip of his nose was dusted with a pink colour.

looks like your little study date had to take place somewhere else.

on your way to the library you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him from the corner of your eye, the moment before still replaying in your head. ‘cute’ you thought, looking away with a smile. and to think that the only thing that could make a mess out of veritas ratio was nothing but a tiny little cat.

— i’ll be your bitter treat !

[oldshrewsburyian]

Jaime/Brienne, modern AU. Ahem.

*muffled screaming* Ahem. So, I think I would take the license of setting this at a university specifically, because 1) write what you know 2) what other setting is quite as good at forcing people who really hate each other into proximity and reenacting/reinforcing intersecting hierarchies in deeply weird ways?

...anyway.

Speaking of those weird intersecting hierarchies, I think Brienne has a proper PhD (humanities, with that quixotry)¹ and Jaime is one of those people with Industry Experience™ and oodles of family money

Can I save Ned Stark from death at the cost of making him head of Faculty Senate and/or the AAUP chapter? He seems like a union man (affectionate, complimentary)

Cat has a flexible admin job because one does not simply raise (*counts quickly*) six children on a single income, and this way, if Cat manages the First Year Experience™ program for undergrads, she can be semi-directly responsible for the fact that Brienne and Jaime have to work together²

I'm envisioning Jaime as one of those men who performs expertise via TED talks, podcasts, etc., where it's more important to be persuasive for ten minutes and look good doing it than to actually do work (Brienne is annoyed by this as is her right)

Having recently gotten to the King's Guard meeting in A Storm of Swords, I can say that Jaime is shockingly (!!) good at running committee meetings/managing departmental politics, and I feel as though this should be relevant³

¹This also allows me to put in medievalism for fun

²This also means that Brienne and Cat can hang out

³Also canonical, of course, is the fact that however clumsily (!), he is very invested in defending her in the face of other people's sexism/misogyny, even though hardly innocent of these things

[thekidthesuperkid]

No but actually I love how central Crystal is to the story. She's the only reason the group ever goes to Port Townsend and therefore the only reason most of the plot even happens.

Even if you're just watching the show with shipping goggles (a lot of people let's be honest) you still can't extract Crystal from the story. She's the only reason Charles and Edwin go to Port Townsend, but also her arrival into the boys' dynamic shakes it up enough for it to start changing. She's the one who finds out about Charles' dad and then pushes Edwin to figure out what Charles has been hiding from him. She's also the one who pushes Charles to recognize his own repressed emotions and to deal with them. She's central to Charles' character arc over the show, and even though she's not as central to Edwin's character arc, she's still a catalyst. Niko, the Cat King, and Monty are more directly important to Edwin's arc, but Edwin and Charles never would have met and helped Niko if it hadn't been for Crystal (Niko likely would have just died from the sprites alone and this is deeply sad to think about), and Edwin also would never have met either the Cat King or Monty without being in Port Townsend. (Monty probably would have never become human.) Maybe if things had been different Edwin still would have been dragged back to Hell, but Charles would have had to find a different way to rescue him. The Night Nurse was only there to open the door to Hell because Charles and Edwin were stuck in Port Townsend long enough for her to track them down, and on top of that she was only able to track them down because of their connections to living humans (Jenny) through Crystal. And then Edwin's confession on the staircase was only really possible because of the realizations about himself that he had beforehand because of the influences of Monty and Niko and the Cat King. Crystal called Edwin and Charles a dead married couple on acid and that basically what they were: they had been together for so long with just each other, and they were so familiar with each other that their dynamic had become habit and they were taking for granted the things they thought they knew about each other...Charles is the happy one and isn't haunted by his past the way that Edwin is, Edwin isn't interested in romance and connecting with living people, etc. Crystal, and then Niko and their other friends as well, showed up and brought in a new perspective on their relationship and their lives and their problems, which allowed them to develop their relationship in new areas.

Independently of the boys' relationship though, Crystal's story is really done so satisfyingly. Her character arc of figuring out who she is is unfinished, but already it's cool how the story builds the contrast of who she is now versus who she was before her memories were stolen, where one of the biggest differences between the two versions of herself is whether she has people in her corner who truly care about her and support her, and whether she has people she cares about in return. She's also the only one able to defeat Esther in the end. The Elemental would have just swallowed Charles and Edwin without her, and summoning Lillith was something only she could do. And it's really cool how her role in the story creates a theme of connection to other people being vital. She forces Edwin and Charles (mainly Edwin) to interact more with living people, through getting them to take cases for living people and by being a way to get information from the living more easily, which ends up causing some bad things for them but also causes a lot of good things too. Like she brings in Niko, who is the reason Charles and Edwin don't get separated after returning from Hell. And even her powers rely on being able to connect with her roots and her heritage and her self. The way that ties into themes of identity are very interesting as well.

TLDR: I really like way the story used Crystal and I'm excited to see where her story goes if there's a season 2.

[fox-guardian]

idk if you've said before but what r your assigned fursonas for the tma characters? and/or tmagp? i'm very curious

jon is a black oriental shorthair cat. the cat part is obvious, but also look at them. they are so long and silly. i love their faces and their huge ears.

martin is a bear. enough said i think

tim is a fox because. i'm biased what do you want from me (danny is also a fox because they're siblings)

sasha is a domestic rabbit with lop ears, while not!sasha is a hare

elias. i think i changed elias, he was gonna be a sphynx cat but i think i decided to change that and never settled on an alternative (@irradiatedsnakes has an excellent barn owl elias that i am Very fond of tbh) (all of his designs are top tier truly please go look at them)

peter is a polar bear as previously mentioned

melanie is a sphynx cat (that's why i changed elias) because i think melanie and jon both being cats is funny

georgie i think i went with capybara

i never drew it, but i think i was gonna go with sheep for daisy. and i don't think i ever had a plan for basira

nikola is a carousel horse <3 with jarringly human hands under her hooves like that deer from adventure time

gertrude was a persian cat, very fluffy and grumpy looking.

trevor was a terrier. specifically like the tramp from lady and the tramp. obviously.

i don't thiiiink i had many other solid ideas?? i think i was going to make oliver some kind of dog (maybe a guard or companion breed??) as a reference to church grims

for tmagp i don't really have many ideas?? i've drawn them as furries but just in an OOPS ALL CATS setting because cats are fun to draw. as actual specific animals i've been leaning towards mouse sam tbh

as a treat tho i'll drop the all cats furry ideas as well

sam is a tuxedo cat

alice is orange and white with a bob tail

gwen i think i'm going for some kind of shorthair calico

celia i think would be fun as a cornish rex perhaps (they both have the same nose <3)

colin is an orange lykoi cat because i think they look so fun and also it works with the hair i gave him (they're partially hairless and he's balding)

teddy is a brown british shorthair. that's basic i know but Have You Seen Them. they're so cute and teddy-bear like.

idk for lena yet

[dinogoofymutated]

Hello, I love your writing!! And the Kurt taking care of an overworked lover really melted my heart 🫠💕 could I ask for a similar prompt with Logan? He's my #1 X Men man. If this ptompt is too specific no worries, feel free to make it work within your own parameters- but I live with chronic pain/illness, so maybe it could be someone with a condition that flairing up and they refuse to rest/ask for help, making things worse, and Logan finally steps in, maybe scoops them up in his big arms and lovingly forces them to take a break? Logan has such a big protective heart under all his gruffness, and I think we need to see more of it in the Fandom.

💖 Love and Bless You 💖

Wolverine/GN!Reader UGH I love this request!! I hope it's okay that i didn't write about a specific illness, but describe a general chronic pain/mobility difficulty due to it. I need to write soft logan like this more often UGH- also, I was picturing the flirty Logan from Wolverine and the X-men here. He's infected my brain and I need more versions of him like that lol. TWS: Chronic pain/illness. flareups.

If there's one thing anyone knows about Logan, it's that's he's crazy observant, especially with that sniffer of his.

Sure me might not be able to smell when you're in pain, but I 100% thing that he just -knows- when something is off. It's like a sixth sense. Like you move in a particular way or eat your "fuck I hurt" food and he's on you like a goddamn bloodhound.

It doesn't matter how much you protest, or how much you fight him on it, he's not willing to budge when it comes to letting you rest- and if he can sneak in a few extra cuddles, or more time in bed with you, it's just a perk.

    Today has been a rough day since you woke up, and you knew it would most likely get worse. 

    You were having a bit of a flare-up. Well, you say a bit, in all actuality, it was an uphill battle from here. There was just something off the moment you woke up. Your joints were stiff and painful, everyday actions became a chore, and you were hurting much more than normal. But, if there was one thing about you everyone knew, it was that you were certainly stubborn. 

    You’re in the kitchen currently, resting at the table after popping a batch of cookies in the oven. Jubilee had been begging you to make her some sweet treats, and with her coming home from a rather long mission tomorrow, you decided to surprise her. Your body’s timing was… unfortunate, but there was no stopping you now. You were exhausted after making the dough, and rolling it into balls. After you had popped them in the oven you had painstakingly walked to the fridge to put the rest of the dough inside, muscles protesting each and every step. You had collapsed into the nearest chair, leaning your head back with a sigh, which is where you are now. You let your eyes drift closed as you wait for the timer to go off, relaxing into the seat.

    “Hey~” You jump at the sound of the voice, opening your eyes to see a smirking Logan, his arms draped across the back of your chair. You let out a huff, smiling at him. 

    “Hi Logan.” You say sweetly. One of his hands reaches down to run through your hair, and you feel like a cat as you eagerly lean into the touch.

    “How are you feeling?” He asks. You hum, grimacing at the question.

    “Fine?” You respond, an unsure tilt in your voice. Logan raises an eyebrow at you.

    “Don't bullshit me, sweetheart. I know somethings off.” Logan rumbles. You make a face, sitting up from the chair as normally as you can as the timer for the cookies goes off.

    “It's just a minor flare-up. It's fine, I'm fine. I have to finish baking these cookies for tomorrow anyway, so I don't really have a choice.” You say. If he sees the way you stumble a little, he doesn’t comment on it. Logan watches as you take a moment before you open the oven, resting against the counter. You realize that you may have gotten up from the chair just a little too fast as stars spot your eyes. After a minute of rest, hyper-aware of Logan’s eyes on you, you go for it. You barely crack the oven door open before Logan grabs you by the waist.

    “Alright, that's enough.” He says. You yelp as Logan drags you away from the oven. He takes the cookies out quickly before he turns around and immediately throws you over his shoulder. Your yelp is more of a screech this time.

    “Logan! Let me go- what are you doing?!” 

    “I'm not gonna stand back and watch you do this to yourself. I'm taking you to bed.” Logan huffs. He’s already walking you out of the kitchen and into the other parts of the mansion as you hit your palms against his back, trying to convince him to put you down.

    “But- I- the cookies!” You cry out. Logan has already gotten to your door opening it as he carries you inside.

    “I got it. Now just- relax.” He says, plopping you down on the bed. The action has you a little dizzy, and Logan leans in to kiss you on the forehead before he tucks you under the covers. 

    “I'm going to go get you some water and vitamins. Stay. Here.” You don’t have time to protest before he’s gone, having shut the door behind him. You want to get up and chase after him, tell him that you don’t need any special treatment and that you were fine on your own, but you’re not sure you can really run right now- and the comfort and warmth of your bed and covers are calling you like a goddamn siren song. 

    You drift in and out of consciousness in bed until Logan is back, with a glass of water and vitamins as promised. He hands you a flintstone gummy as he sits on the bed, and you can’t help but snicker. Logan rolls his eyes, still having delivered vitamins as promised.

    “What did you do about the cookies?” You ask as Logan peels back the covers to lie in the bed with you. He pulls you close as he settles in, rubbing his hands soothingly across the parts of you he knows tend to ache the most. 

    “I put a new batch in the oven. I’ll smell them when they’re ready.” He says. You roll your eyes at him, resting your head against his chest. 

    “Thank you, you know. Not just for the cookies, but… for caring.” You whisper. He huffs a laugh, leaning down to kiss you on the lips this time.

    “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Just rest.”