#I wish it were possible to not feel so repulsive for that thought to not be such a trifle

[starkcregan]

.

[certifiedsexed]

Is it unacceptable to decline dating someone because they're asexual?

Someone came into my life in the last few months who is VERY set on getting into a serious relationship with me, and although I do really really like them and wish it could work out, we had a conversation a few days back where they revealed that they're asexual and entirely sex repulsed. They told me that they'd never want to have sex, were against me potentially seeing other people for my needs, and that they would even be uncomfortable with me masturbating in a shared apartment if we ever moved in together. I wish I could go along with that, but I have an incredibly high libido and I genuinely cannot imagine forcing myself to become celibate like they need me to be, so I told them earlier that I'd like to break up since I have a feeling our incompatibilities will only make the both of us frustrated and unhappy as things progress. They blew up on me though, saying that I'm being selfish since, in their words, "I'm really not asking for a lot," and that if I really cared I'd compromise for their sake. Like... is having this as a dealbreaker genuinely unreasonable? Am I being too stubborn? To me this feels like a big deal, but they make it sound like it's the easiest request they could've given me and now I'm nervous that maybe I'm just making a mistake by giving this much importance to my sexual needs.

Good question! I think declining to date someone solely based on the fact they're asexual, without knowing anything about their sexual preferences beyond that, can be heavily based on bigoted assumptions.

But that's not what you're talking about. You're saying y'all had a serious conversation about sexual preferences and you've realized you're completely incompatible and you don't want to pursue a relationship with them.

That's not bigoted and not just completely reasonable but also very responsible! You're respecting their wishes and preferences while also respecting your own, which is a great thing to do!

That's not selfish. You're allowed to break up if you want to. Sure, if this person was dating someone else, it's quite possible what they're asking for isn't a lot! But for you, it is a lot and that's okay.

But what's not okay is guilting you for wanting to break up and saying you're being selfish by "not compromising", especially when no compromise was even mentioned. That's not okay behavior.

This isn't unreasonable. For you, this is a big deal! It's okay to give that the importance it has to you. Just because sexual needs aren't important to them doesn't mean they can't be for you.

That's just another example of what you were talking about and how you thought you were incompatible.

I understand how their response could make you nervous but you're literally allowed to break up for any reason.

This is absolutely a fine reason to break up, especially with the guilting on top of it. You do not want to be dating people who blame and guilt you for entirely reasonable decisions.

Hope this helps, Anon! Wishing you luck. Let me know if you have any other questions. <3

[dipperscavern]

jon snow brainrot rn.

like imagine finding him after the whole thorne execution, post-death and post-revival

i need to hold him so bad🙁🙁 in spite of the horrid crawl of his skin, hair at his nape standing on end, urging him avert his gaze as you approach, he can't help but seek your soft stare, his own eyes weak with feeling, brows curved with vulnerability. and his heartbeat is quickening, and his breathing grows sharp

his hand trembles and no matter how desperately he tries to hold fast, he crumbles when you near, raising a hand to his cheek; warm and soft and tender. his breath hitches violently in his chest and his head falls to the crook of your neck, his silent sobs disrupting the quiet with small soundless gasps

and you hold him close, with a gentleness he deserves that he'd never before recieved, a hand in his curls and the other a firm warmth on his back as he helplessly leans his weight on you to finally release the overflow of agony he'd all but drowned in 🙁🙁🙁

SWEET BOY, I NEED TO HOLD HIM💔💔

SONGBIRDS — JON SNOW

pairing: jon snow x fem!reader, 3.1k words

synopsis: the ask above <3

authors note: ouh this was a rough one! i did in fact steal sentences from this ask, so thank u anon!! i love u!! become a writer!! thank u to my febu frongers @useralba & @eldrith for helping me not lose my sanity over this, love y’all!! enjoy i guess 🙄(if possible) (i’m gonna be quiet now)

SNAP

you’re brought out of your thoughts with a jolt, startled so badly you near fall out of the tree you’ve found sanctuary in. that doesn’t sit well with you, you’ve always been steady.

so was bran, a small voice whispers. so was he, another part of you agrees — and the one it mentions has naught to do with climbing.

was, your mind echoes bitterly. it seems like everyone who once surrounded you is only that anymore, a was. a whisper of the past, faces seen nowhere but in living memory; and now, he has joined them.

fresh tears roll down your cheeks, and you wipe them as soon as they join the conversation of grief. bitterness — mourning — desperation, all cradling you at once.

you readjust your form, limbs beginning to fall asleep from the tight position they’re in. if only you could do the same. it seems the gods have deemed you unable, as every time your eyes droop, you see the face of the lord commander.

the mere thought of him is paining, and the sight of him was entirely too much to bear. so much so that you fled, the memory squeezing uncomfortably at your chest.

his eyes, once ever-expressive, dulled to nothing but an expressionless saccharine blur. lips parted, yet no air being brought in to fill his lungs. the snow beneath him was stained a bloody crimson, and you can almost feel the familiar cold of the icy ground beneath your knees as you kneel beside the form of the man you love.

at first, you had cried. whispering pleas to whomever would listen, clutching any part of him you could reach — you had even attempted to stop the bleeding. stupid, stupid girl.

then, it seemed to occur to you that you were touching death. slowly removing your hands, looking down at the lifeless body of jon snow. and just like that, repulsion had entered your veins. no — rejection.

you rejected this. you rejected death, you rejected the finality you had been dealt. you had stood, clutching your bow, arrows lightly jostling from the movement. hunting.

you had been hunting while jon was dying.

if only time had dealt you a mercy, perhaps you would’ve made it back in time. to save him, or just to say goodbye, you’re not greedy in your wishing.

you glance to your hands, still stained with his blood. suddenly, your eyes flutter shut as you see the image of his body again — his wounds smoking in the cold nights air. it feels like a lifetime ago. rejection has long since abandoned you, leaving bitter acceptance in its wake.

you blink, eyes threatening tears, and your gaze finds the white and red blur of a weirwood tree. you return to the woods to escape, yet the gods find you anyway; what cruel mockery.

how could they, yet again? don’t they see all you lose? they must, you think, as they’re the ones who keep taking. is that the only joy a god may find? maybe now, that’s why you hunt; to send them a life as sick compensation for the one they took. what an acidic dance.

CRACK

this time, when a twig breaks, you are not so foolish as to think it only by coincidence. you aren’t the only hunter out here — yet you did not think to find yourself as prey.

whatever stalks you is enough to bring you out of the cynicality of grief, snapping you into a different mindset. though previously unsure how much more you can withstand, your body proves otherwise, flawless in its transition and execution.

you heart increases its rhythm, surefire in its performance, allowing extra blood flow and oxygen to be pumped to your aching muscles. your breathing changes, now quick and rapid breaths to take in more air which prove effective as you shift yourself from your sitting position.

you had chosen not the tallest tree, but the thickest and most concealed. it gives more room for stability, allowing you to exercise your position; a small decision you now are thankful for as you move forward, outstretching yourself on its thick limb to try and catch glimpse of whatever it is that seeks you.

unfortunately, the concealment that hides you does its job too well. you try to peer through the branches and leaves for what feels like ages, but they prove too thick. you curse under your breath, withdrawing from the branch to retreat back to the trees trunk once more.

closing your eyes, you listen. the gust of wind, the rustling of leaves, a raven cries in the distance. you wait.

there — your ears are graced with the light chirp of birds, in your own tree and in others nearby.

“If danger is near, the birds don’t sing.”

ned starks voice rings through your ears, so loud and clear that for a moment, you almost lose concentration. if asked why, you’d never be able to directly say why your eyes didn’t snap open, why your head didn’t swivel around, looking for the source of the voice you’ve heard. can you and the gods share a secret, if it’s one they decide not to include you on?

as the melody of songbirds continue, you shift to begin your descent.

in any other scenario you would stay in the tree, concealed by its branches until the threat was certainly gone. but things are different. jon is dead — you seek a fight. (do you, or do you refuse to allow the stranger your soul as well?)

the decision made, even in grief, isn’t a rash one. whatever it is isn’t nearby enough to silence the singers, and this may be your only window of opportunity to flip the coin; restoring yourself as predator, not prey.

your feet hit the ground, and you wince at the noise made. it’s midday, so you cannot hope for nightfalls rescue of concealment.

you pause, peering around you while you allow yourself a moment to think. your hunting grounds have always been the forest that surrounds castle black, and you had retreated to the very edge of it. your hunter has come from the north — funny enough, from the direction of castle black itself. if you’re careful, you can make a loop back east, foregoing your usual trail. swallowing your nerves, you begin to move your feet.

your senses are heightened, alike to how they are in battle, but this is different. instead of blood pulsing in your ears, they’re attuned to every sound, no matter how minuscule. the smell of blood and death is replaced by nature, the scent of oak & pine leaves fighting to not be smothered by the cold.

you don’t make much progress before you turn a corner and yelp in surprise, being met with a hulking figure, red eyes boring into you.

“Ghost—!” you shout; in surprise, frustration, and relief all at once. your breathing heavies, heart now beating wildly, ready to supply you should you need to run at a moments notice. then, somehow, you’re smiling. you smile at ghost, at the birds, who didn’t notice him enough to quiet themselves, and the childness of it all. you kneel, shouldering your bow and outstretching an arm.

ghost seems like he’s been waiting for your action, stepping forward immediately. you register his willingness — had he been searching for you? or did he find jon dead and left, as you did, finding you accidentally? if only he could speak; the phantom of a thousand words.

he’s soft under your hands, a small comfort parading in the wake of sad relations. and suddenly, you feel guilty. how long has ghost been by jon’s side? how fierce, the loyalty the direwolf has shown him? how fierce the devotion jon had shown him in return? he mourns alongside you, grief arguably more substantial, as he was given no explanation. how could he understand such matters?

an idiot thought, you're quick to push it away. you both have every right to grief, there is more than enough to go around.

eventually, ghost pulls away, and begins padding in the direction to castle black. you think he means to be solitary, but after a few paces, he stops, turning to look back at you. expectant.

though your breath hitches and grief nags at you once more, you swallow it down, and begin to follow the only remnant of jon snow — a piece of him that the gods saw fit to leave you. what cruel mercy, coming from the same hands of injustice.

though content to wallow in your anger, your disbelief, you refuse to allow the direwolf to return to castle black alone. strangely, the farther you follow him, the more you get a sense of deja vu. it can’t be more than a few minutes before you see a tree with bark missing, torn off and left bare its left side, which is now your right. a mark you had left to remember your trail. ghost has tracked your scent from castle black.

with the realization arises conflicted feelings, as if they can’t agree on how you feel. loyalty rings faintly in the back of your mind, the things done for love.

you forcibly close your mind, numbing yourself as to be fully in the present. you’ll have the rest of your days to dwell on it; but only now are you here, in the company of trees and wolves and birds, oh how they sing.

and suddenly, the melody is quiet.

time itself has been stopped, halted in its tracks. there’s no rustling of branches, of leaves, no sound of birds, no sound at all — the world has become inaudible.

you and ghost mirror each other in the ways you both lurch to a halt. a sick feeling infects your gut, hairs rising on the back of your neck, and the instinctual need to flee almost takes over. but something keeps you there, rooted to your spot, feet unmoving. what anchors you, is another secret between you and the gods; another peculiar joke that you stay the punchline of.

then, after a moment, a gust of wind graces the forest. it blows your hair, rustles through the trees, and almost hesitantly so, the birds begin their song again. ghost looks back at you, surveying as if this is the first time he’s seen you.

he begins to lead the way once more, but a thought still lingers in the back of your mind, and you’re unable to shake off the unease in your gut. what has dismantled the harmonious balance among living things so?

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

he wakes with a gasp.

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

it must be hours later when you approach the gates of castle black. one of the guards on watch takes notice, shaking the other awake. as they both stare down at you, you wonder.

are they close enough to see the mourning that rests forefront on your face? were they the same men who opened the gate for you upon your return last night, only to do the same thing minutes later after you found jon? do they feel guilty? should you?

the wooden gates protest opening, loud creaks and groans as it gives you access, and at first, you don’t see it.

at first, you walk in, and your gaze is trapped on the ground, lost in thought. you’ve come back empty handed, as you came back to jon — or rather, his body. but you don’t think anyone was expecting a stag draped across your shoulders. amidst the unexpected.

when you finally do look up, you’re startled for the ? time today. four men hang in the middle of the courtyard.

you stop in your tracks, but this time, ghost pads on ahead of you. he stops not for anybody, curving them all to fair left. the direction to jon’s chambers.

you don’t have long to dwell on the wolfs mistake, as peoples eyes find your frozen figure. among them, friends; edd, grenn, pyp, others you don’t recognize. some, not dressed in black. wildlings. you begin to walk forward, and a tall, ginger bearded figure spots you. tormund walks to meet you, an expression on his face unreadable — unable to be identified by your tired eyes.

confusion — surprise — apprehension — curiosity; all fight for their seat at the forefront of your mind, but they’re forced to share.

as you and tormund find each other, you glance past him at the hanging men. then to your left, expecting to see ghost still scratching at jon’s door — but he’s not there. was he shooed off? did you misread his intention?

“I don’t— what’s…” you start, but don’t finish. how could you even begin?

tormund reaches for you, hands settling on your biceps. whether he’s keeping you in place or checking for injury, you don’t think you care. the weight and warmth of the gesture is welcomed.

“Tormund, you’re scaring me—” your admission wouldn’t usually come so easy, but you can’t be bothered to guard yourself. you’re exhausted, your muscles are stiff, you’re confused, and you hurt.

he only turns you toward jon’s chambers, pointing, a hand on the small of your back. “In there, little bird.” he says, and you wish to tell him what a help he is. but you don’t. for some reason, you bite your tongue, sparing a last glance at him, before slowly making your way over.

all of the eyes on you make you nervous, and frustrate you all the same. why do they all act like they’ve seen the father?

it doesn’t take long for you to reach the door, curiosity guiding your step. you see ghosts muddied paw prints on the wood, but they don’t turn left or right — ending at the chamber door. your brows furrow almost instinctively. you can’t help but linger on the thought, setting your bow & arrows to lay nearby; your shoulders welcome the reprieve. with bated breaths, you push on the wood, stepping inside. what you find is beyond even your wildest imaginations.

what you find is jon’s head turning to look at you, and you can’t help the sharp inhale of air you take.

his bottom half is clothed, but his upper is uncovered, torso wrapped in bandages; covering the stab wounds that you know took his life.

you think him a hallucination, mind willing his fate to change so desperately it has conjured up its own delusion. but you glance to ghost, dutifully curled by his feet, and shift to turn, looking at the paw prints that led you here.

you turn back to (jon?), closing the door behind you. while your own flickers to ghost once more (an affirmation), jon’s gaze remains fixed on you. you inch closer, surveying him.

his eyes, now encasing life — not quite the same as you knew, but life nonetheless. lips, parted, as to suck in air to fill his lungs. lungs that in return, work in correspondence with his heart, beating to keep him alive.

no. this can’t be…

but it is.

he’s rigid — uncomfortable, yet a part of him fights to relax in your presence. how can it all be so unbalanced and so right all at once? you’re here. you’re all he’s ever wanted. but a part of him keeps him withdrawn, fighting him on reaching out for you.

perhaps it’s the horrid crawl of his skin, urging him avert his gaze as you approach. even so, he can't help but seek your gentle stare, his own eyes weak with feeling, brows curved with vulnerability. you see it as you close in — the turmoil within himself.

a different part of him wins, and he reaches for you. you’ve been waiting, it seems, and reach for him with equal fervor. his hands are cold on your waist, strikingly so. your eyes widen, disbelief written on you like ink on parchment.

you had not expected to feel him. no, you expected for him to vanish underneath your very fingertips.

one of your hands find the bare skin of his torso, experimentally reaching out. jon is hungry for your touch, offering any part of himself for your taking. he has craved you desperately ever since he awoke.

he watches, patient as you register the warmth underneath your hand. there’s blood circulating through his veins. your pupils blow wide in the realization.

you’re anxious for more assurance, your right hand moving to his forearm to keep him in place (jon wouldn’t dare to move), as your left finds his chest. specifically — the part of his chest that keeps safe his heart. you feel it beat underneath your palm, and your reaction is immediate, eyes fluttering shut.

if he didn’t want to be touched, jon would’ve shied away from you by now. but he hasn’t. no, his eyes bore into you with the attention only divine beings receive

jons breathing heavies in anticipation, expectant. he gauges every ounce of your reaction, waiting for your evaluation of him — as a sinner would their god. is he worthy? do you deem him so?

when your eyes open, something clicks into place. jon is here, in the now, alive and breathing; your fingertips said so themselves. you don’t know how, but you can’t find it in yourself to care much in the present, not when you finally have him in your hold once more. what you would’ve given for this, hours ago in your tree. what wouldn’t you have given?

and now, your eyes roam over every part of him, drinking in all that you can. your gaze trails fast, mapping the expanse of his shoulders, down his arms, to his torso, across his bandages again.

your hand removes itself from his chest, only momentarily, but jon chases your touch all the same. you can’t bear to leave him wanting, sliding a hand up his shoulder, feeling the lithe muscle beneath it. you’re desperate to ground the feeling of him, to commit it to memory — and jon seems equal in his need.

you hand stops it’s ascent when it reaches his neck, cradling the juncture of it, thumb smoothing over the soft skin of his cheek, as you meet his gaze. your touch is warm and soft and tender, and in an instant, his eyes are watery. the hands on your waist tremble, and his breaths turn shaky in an attempt to hold himself together. his brows pull together, and his breath hitches violently in his chest. something stirs in you at the sight, the expressions of a broken man.

jon has passed your test of realism with flying colors, and when he realizes, he crumbles.

his head falls to the crook of your neck, closing the small distance between you. you’re quick to wrap your arms around him, and jon’s immediate in pulling you closer — as close as you can get. the tears begin their flow easily, releasing the buildup of emotions harbored from death snaring & absolving him; akin to poison swallowed and retched before fully digested.

your touch is gentle, a hand in his curls and the other a firm warmth on his back. he leans himself into you, almost helplessly so, as if he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. you accept his weight with open arms. if jon was asked why he fights so desperately, even in times it seems hopeless, he would say to repay the gods for their gift to him; you.

the only things that disrupt the steady quiet that surrounds you are his silent sobs, accompanied by the small soundless gasps that flow from his lips as a river of melancholy.

his grip is tight; he drowns in a vast sea of agony, and you alone are his anchor.

[mrsparrasblog]

I can treat you better than he can

Summary: You were hopeless in love with your Captain who pushed you away denying his own feelings for you, maybe this time he pushed you in the wrong hands.

Pairing: Keegan x Reader ( Callsign Sunshine)

Words: 2500 I think

A/N: This is a small chapter of my fic Nightmares become true solider(my first fic and the love of my life but its to long for Tumblr so I post stand alone chapters) The fic is written in an I perspective

TW: canon typical violence and swearing, sex, oral sex, fingering, spanking, cumplay, reader is a pervert, Keegan too, Price is an idiot, Reader is unhinged

Defeated, I walked over to the boys, leaving John alone by the bar. Well, he sure will join us later; why shouldn't he? "John doesn't want to join."

"Better for us, old man is always winning," Ghost said. Even in the bar, he wore a mask—not his hardshell mask he wore on missions, but a skull-faced balaclava—making him look like he was about to rob the place.

Confidently, I tried to challenge Ghost, saying that I could surely win a second time. "Maybe Kyle and I will win against you and Soap."

"Not possible."

We played some rounds of pool in which every single round Ghost and Soap won, surprising not only because of Ghost's skills. Soap was the best pool player I had ever seen; he was super focused, and every shot was a hit. After a while of sore losses, we decided to sit down in a booth. The bar was crowded with lots of soldiers and girls who wanted to find themselves a military guy. To be honest, I couldn't judge them. Military men were toxic but so damn attractive.

Even through the crowded space, we could see the Ghost Team sitting in a booth, still with their masks on, and drinking. They didn't seem disappointed in their loss. I saw a lot of similarities between them and us; anyone could easily see that they were more than just a unit—a family like us. Well, maybe like the four boys and me as a distant cousin taking up all the space at a family gathering.

"You sure don't want to drink, lass? Celebrate our win; we are officially the best team on base again."

"I don't want to drink today; we have training tomorrow, and I don't want to throw up on the mat."

"You sound like a mom," Kyle complained, and Ghost almost gagged when he heard this.

"Aye, look, Captain is flirting with a bonnie." As I heard this, I turned around, capturing the scene in front of me. John was sitting at the bar with a woman—worse, a pretty woman who looked like the complete opposite of me—and not just in a different hair type way—in a different figure, appearance, style, hair color, height way—everything about her was different. She looked so stunning; the boys, well, more like Kyle, repeated over and over again how gorgeous that woman was and how the captain normally doesn't pick up girls at the bar—but probably made an exception for her because that woman was stunning. 

If I hadn't been so jealous, I probably would have had a panic attack right now. I observed the pair—how she touched his chest, giggling and whispering into his ears—and he looked happier than just happy, delighted, lucky, elated, cheerful, joyful, content, and ecstatic—and every word in this universe to describe his smile. He didn't look repulsed or anything at all. Right now, I feel incredibly stupid. For a blink of a second, I thought that maybe he would like me too. He held me, he comforted me, and God, we almost kissed—but maybe it was just my delusion feeding me with unrealistic dreams for the sake of my hopeless romantic heart. I definitely made him uncomfortable; he was surely disgusted and repulsed by me for how I behaved and how I looked because in no way in heaven did I look like her.

"Captain is a lucky bastard."

"Quiet, Kyle."

I didn't listen to the banter of the boys; the only thing worth my concentration was John and how he laughed with this beautiful woman, and how I desperately wished it was me instead of her.  But life wasn't fair, and I was so freaking dumb for believing I had a chance. She sat down on John's lap. Would it be crazy to threaten her to leave him alone? She surely wasn't military-trained, and with her perfectly manicured nails, she would have trouble fighting me, but was it really her fault? She did nothing wrong, and I still wanted to gut that bitch out. Pardon me, I mean woman. As their lips touched each other after moments of anticipation, I almost lost it, but in fact, it strengthened my self-awareness, and finally, I knew all I thought happened between John and me was pure imagination. 

I took Ghost's Terrible Bourbon out of his hand and chugged it down as if it were orange juice. Kyle and Soap looked at me as if I had just murdered their grandma, but Ghost had a knowing expression. How did that little shit notice my utterly cringe and embarrassing hopeless crush on the Captain?

"That Bourbon was expensive, Sergeant."

"I'll pay you back," I claimed—I won't—and he knew.

He almost whispered an act of kindness to him to not address it in front of Kyle and Soap, who wouldn't let me hear the end of this. "It will pass."

"What?"

"The feeling."

As I saw John and the pain of my existence making out like teenagers, I had finally enough. John had his fun, fine; I can also have much fun and forget that wixxer. Without responding to Ghost or entertaining Soap and Kyle's curious expressions and Kyle's question if I got my period, I left the table, walking straight to the table with the American mask boys. I will definitely regret this tomorrow, but tonight I don't care.

"Keegan, right? Come with me."

"Doll, do you really want to be a sore winner and rub your win under my nose?"

"I thought more of a consolation prize or how you say these things in English."

"Are you not a native English speaker?"

"And there I thought my accent was a dead giveaway."

"You're annoying, kid; did someone ever tell you this?"

"Ghost constantly."

"He is a dick."

"I'd second that."

"So tell me the real reason you're requesting my presence. Don't get me wrong, Doll. I won't mind, but I want to know why I have this luck."

"Nothing, just a girl in a bar speaking with a man in a bar."

"And there I thought, after you jumped into Price's arms today, you would be his partner."

"No."

"Liar."

"Did no one teach you how to flirt, Keegan?" I scoffed.

"Doll, I know how to sweep you off your tiny feet but tell me first, am I a rebounder?"

"Yes."

"Well, we can work with that," he grinned as he flicked his cigarette away, now completely focusing on me. "It must hurt seeing him like that at the bar."

"Like hell."

"Merrick was right. Price is an idiot and a goddamn fool. He's got a dime piece right here, and he's chasing after...that!?" He gestured over to that incredible woman.

"I wouldn't describe myself as a dime piece, Keegan."

Keegan leaned closer to me. His voice is now soft and low instead of his usual hoarse voice. "I would absolutely beg to differ. You're a goddess, and he's a complete moron if he doesn't realize that. Why do you even like this guy?"

I rolled my eyes at his hyperbel. "Well, isn't it obvious? He is tall, strong, and masculinely good-looking, but that is only his appearance. He is smart and funny; I would without a doubt rely my life on him." I noticed John's glance at me. Why? It's not like Keegan was the real enemy. 

"I'd just like to point out that so am I, and I've got something he doesn't." Keegan laughed, and his laugh was magnetic.  I would lie if I said he wasn't attractive, so would this be so wrong?

I'm single and young, so fuck off, John. "Tell me what you have and what he doesn't."

His expression turns to one of pure confidence and pride. "I've got class, doll. This 'captain' of yours is off there in this nasty bar, out with a random chick, eating her face at the bar for all to see. And I'm here, paying attention to you—only to you."

"Oh, so you're a high and mighty soldier with class and only pure intentions towards me?" I chuckled as I realized I was really bad at flirting, mostly because I only relied on my good looks. And here I am constantly insulting men I am interested in.

"Only the purest intentions towards you, and I got something else that he doesn't, doll."

"If you say big dick, I'm going to cringe."

He laughed, not even insulted by my comment. "As much as I'd love to, no. No, that wasn't what I was going to say. But I'm glad that's where your mind goes first."

"Well, then we are on the same page. But I think that's the problem with me. I think like a whore, and of course, he wouldn't like me. I'm just the type for fun, you know."

"Who told you that bullshit?"

"My ex."

"Bastard, come on, doll, let me show you a great time. Forget about that stupid captain of yours."

"Maybe I should."

He lowers his voice even further while his eyes meet mine, not afraid of eye contact. "I think he's intimidated by you. I mean, look at you. Smart, beautiful, and strong—you kicked all our arses today like we were toys, and Price knows that; he has no shot with you, and instead of taking a chance, he's hiding behind another girl."

His big hands started to caress my hair, tightly gripping it in an act of dominance. He wasn't afraid of showing me that he wanted me.

"Well, that other girl is hot."

"She might be hot, but she's also clearly not you. She's just someone he can control—someone who will do whatever he wants. Just a mere civilian girl with a boring life—but you're a different story. I already know how strong you can be and how much you like to do things your own way. And that's part of what makes you so irresistible—you're more than just a pretty face; you're a great soldier too."

Fuck it. I pulled him to my height, removing his mask enough so his full lips were finally free. He had a sharp jawline and stubbles that almost tickled against my skin as I finally planted my lips on his, desperate to kiss him and feel desired. He wasn't expecting my sudden kiss and his breath hitched for a moment, his hands tightening in my hair, keeping me so close. I could feel his lips curving into a slight smile, his eyes fluttering shut as his body froze, a low masculine groan escaping his mouth as he pressed his rock-hard body against mine. His hands started to roam over my body until they found my ass, squeezing it firmly and pulling me up in his arms to close even more distance.

John's POV

"Soldiers always had a different kind of appeal to me." If she tells me one more time how she fetishizes soldiers and how she always dreamt of marrying one and being a stay-at-home mom while her husband would be on dangerous deployments, I'd gladly off myself. It wasn't wrong to want to be a stay-at-home mom; John's mom was one too, and she did way more than his old man gave her credit for, but he always hated women who only cared about his status in the military and the benefits it came with. Well, at least she was pretty.

"Do you even listen, Johnny?" Johnny, really?

"Yes, of course, sweetheart." She always blushed when he called her sweetheart, and he felt incredibly terrible for only calling her that because he couldn't, for the love of God, remember her correct name: Sarah, or Sandra; certainly not Sunshine. John thought he could erase Sunshine completely from his brain by making out with that woman. He was wrong— it only made him long for her even more. For heaven's sake. He could lie to himself and say it was that woman's fault, but she was pretty and even a bit smart—she just wasn't Sunshine, and that frustrated him. He didn't even get a physical reaction out of that woman— even his dick betrayed him.

"Oh, God, John, that woman is completely embarrassing," she gestured at something, and when John turned around, he could see it. It was his woman in the arms of that tosser, exactly like he held her today, only that they were making out. Disgusting—deep inside, he knew he couldn't judge her. He was making out with a random woman in the bar just so he could forget her, but still, his stomach built a knot that twisted him like the time he got stabbed near his kidney in Afghanistan.  He would never admit that he was jealous—jealousy was something for weak people. He never felt this way before, and he won't start now. 

It clearly only bothered him because he was one of Merrick's fellow guys; he'd probably only flirted with her because of the rivalry. And as the good captain he was, he needed to stop that, right? So his woman—uhm, his sergeant—wouldn't get hurt and be unconcentrated in missions. 

Sunshine was now sitting on Keegan's lap as he whispered things in her ear that made her sweet cheeks rise with a beautiful color. John couldn't stand this sight anymore; his knuckles turned white from the tight fist he made. He didn't even listen to the woman whom he tried to lay tonight, and as Keegan walked towards the loo, he saw his chance to act like the proper captain he was, and he went after him.

"You deserve better than me, sweetheart, someone who is emotionally available." He didn't let her form her words in protest; he only put $50 down on the table and left in the direction of the loo. He entered the room, closing the door behind him. He was used to being intimidating, and he sure as hell would intimidate that little Sergeant of Merrick. He leaned against the door frame, not saying a word at first, waiting till he noticed him. Right now, he felt strong; it had something powerfull seeing his enemy with his dick out pissing—John was fully clothed, stoic, and strong while Keegan was exposed and vulnerable. John tried to hide his smirk as he saw how he was thicker than him down there—way more for his Sun to enjoy—concentrate on the task, John.

"Sergeant Russ," he said with his hoarse voice.

"Price, what do you want?" he practically spat out.

"Touch her again, and I'll make sure that you won't be able to touch anything else." He saw the look of fear in Keegan's eyes. Of course, he was a strong soldier, but Keegan wasn't a fool and knew that Price was a real threat. 

But then he tested John's patience by saying something foolish like "jealous that you won't be the one to make her scream in pleasure tonight." John saw red, his fists held close to his body, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to beat that shit out of that bastard, but being violent isn't what makes the other scared; it's his calmness and the fact that if he loses it, it's over. 

"Care to repeat that, Russ?"

"I'm going to touch her the whole night, and you guided her into my arms like an idiot." He didn't understand what he meant by him being at fault for Sun's interest in Russ, but never in his life dared someone to call him an idiot.

"I'll give you one last chance, leave her alone."

"Or what, you kill me?" he scoffed and laughed.

"Maybe I will," he said with a low growl that signaled Keegan that he wasn't joking. 

Both fell into silence as Soap and Ghost stumbled out of one of the cabins. They clearly fucked again; he would have said something about not sleeping around in the military, but he wasn't such a hypocrite. 

Soap interfered in the situation, "Aye, calm down, Captain; he isn't worth the stain." Why did they both need to interfere? He couldn't threaten Russ properly without giving the suggestion that he was more than just a caring captain for his Sun. 

Keegan rolled his eyes, "Whatever, I'm going to fuck your little sunshine now." Before John could react, Keegan already had a fist in his face. 

Surprisingly, not from John himself but from Ghost, the reserved man who seemed to hate Sunshine with all his heart. Was he perhaps interested in his Sun? No, never. Ghost was head over heels for Soap, even if he would never admit that. But why the sudden act? Keegan left the loo with a bloody lip.

"You fucked up, John."

"I know, Simon."

Soap and Ghost left the bathroom shortly after, and John could hear the arguing, something about Soap being jealous and thinking Ghost wanted Sunshine, and Ghost replying that Soap was fucking delusional and should know his place. If he hadn't been entrenched in his own hell of drama, he would have talked to Simon. Fucking hell that evening was fucked up. 

As he left the bathroom, going to the booth of his boys, he noticed how Soap and Ghost were silent, Soap's glance almost burning in rage. Sunshine was dancing with Keegan while he groped her precious ass. John sat miserably with his own scotch, but at least Gaz was happy drinking his beer and ranting about something.

After a while, he saw Keegan pull Sun over his shoulder, and they went straight out of the bar, with her being a tipsy and giggling mess. "What a show-off," he scoffed.

"How funny that Sunny is the only one getting action tonight," Kyle looked confused as every man at the table shot him a death glare. For heaven's sake, that evening was cursed, and in all vulnerability, John hoped that this was just a one-night thing for her.

Sunshine's POV

He threw me over his shoulder and carried me out of the bar. As we walked towards his room in the base, I could already feel my arousal approaching. It took forever since we stopped always to make out.

You could say a lot about him; he is arrogant, narcissistic, and a bit crazy, but he's a damn good kisser. We reached his barrack, it was as simple as hers just that his wasn't a single. She hoped desperately that his roommate didn't bulge in. 

He pressed me against the door frame as their kiss deepened, Keegan's hand slipped under my shirt tracing soft circles on my back. His other hand slides gently around my hair pulling it towards him as a show of his dominance.

I couldn't hold back and moaned into his kiss. "Fuck it." I ripped his shirt off him ogling over his muscular frame. He was toned his pecks were perfectly sculpted, every woman would kill for that sight but I thought about John - stop it, forget John, think about Keegan.

Keegan smirked as I ripped off his shirt, his hands slowly exploring every inch of my clothed body. His touch was rough and possessive like he desperately needed me. He released a loud groan as I started to trace down his abs and prominent V line. I pulled off my shirt and bra and threw it in the corner. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of my breasts. His rough hand cupped them and his calloused fingers from his work in the military brushed across my hardened nipples. "Fuck," he breathed out his lips finding mine again in a hungry kiss. His erected dick already pressing against my stomach.

"Please Keegan, I need you." I pleaded, Keegan broke our kiss, his lips trailing down my neck and collarbone, his teeth graze my skin lightly as he nipped at my shoulder- Oh he is a biter. His hand squeezed my breasts again before he started to undo his pants. His hardened dick sprung out of his boxers, his pink tip already glistered with pre cum. He wasn't very thick but the length was impressive and he was circumcised. I licked my lips in anticipation. "Shit you're big." Keegan only chuckled darkly at my words. "I'll show you how big." He growls his hands moving to grip my hips firmly as he ripped off my thong revealing my already wet folds.

"Hey, I liked that one."

"I buy you a new one."

His finger dips into my moisture before teasing my throbbing entrance. "You're already so ready for me," he murmurs. 

"Keegan please stop teasing me."

Keegan's other hand slipped down to play with my clit. His thumb circling gently the sensitive knot. With one swift movement, he pushes his thick fingers deep inside of me. He groaned in pleasure at the tightness that surrounded him. "Fuck you feel so good- around my finger."

He pushed his fingers lazily against my G spot and started to scisor them inside, he looked determined at my face to learn which movement kept me going. I felt the knot in my stomach building up letting me almost explode. His lips trailed down my neck sucking on my nipples while he continued to abuse my clit.

"Cum on me Doll."

I came hard spasming around his thick fingers and coating them with my juices. Keegan's cock throbbed in anticipation as he watched me cum around his fingers. He pulls his hand away, relishing the sight of my wetness. "That's it, baby girl."

"Let me take care of you Keegan." I let myself fall on my knees and slowly started to stroak his dick and lick the pre cum of his swollen tip. Keegan groans deeply, as I take his cock into my mouth, his hips jerking automatically forward. He grips my hair trying to maintain his control. "Fuck Doll." 

I bobbed my head up and down while playing with his balls with one of my free hands. He pushes his cock deeper inside of me but he should know that I'm the one in control. I bite softly on his tip to make him crazy. His lips escaped moans - loud moans. His cock throbbed in anticipation leaving stains of pre cum on my tongue. "Fuck Doll, that feels good don't stop."

I began to deep throat him almost gaging because of his length, my eyes began to tear, I tried to maintain eye contact. Keegan's grip on my hair tightens his knuckles turning white. His hips jerk forward, pushing only deeper into my throat. "You're so fucking good at that, I cant last longer."  I press my plump lips together tightening the friction around his member. 

As he feels him getting close he pulls my head back away. "Not quite yet Doll," he growls his voice stained with the effort to hold back his orgasm. I started to laugh and ignored his attempts to last longer I moved my head faster. "Fuck you're going to make me cum." I moaned in agreement - my voice only sending vibrations down his dick.

Keegan grunts loudly. His entire body tensing up as he loses control and erupts deep inside my throat. His cock twitches repeatedly, sending wave after wave of hot cum down my throat, I swallow every sip of his cum and finally hold my tongue out showing him my empty mouth. Keegan stared down at me in shock, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction. His muscular thigh trembles as he tries to hold his composure. He gently traces down my jawline. "Fuck you're mine Doll" - I was definitely not his. 

Keegan lifted me and threw me on the bed as he spread my legs wide, positioning himself between my legs - his cock already hardening again. He looks down at me with a predatory grin, then lowers himself onto my waiting sex and pushes inside me with one powerful trust making me scream in pleasure and pain at the same time. 

He begins thrusting into me, hard and fast. The bed cracks under our combined weight as he takes me roughly. His muscular arms flex with each stroke. 

"Keegan, it feels so good."

"Doll," he groans his voice hoarse with lust, "you're so fucking tight I can barely hold back." 

"Don't hold back, Keegan. Fuck me."

He grins. "You like it rough doll?" I nodded and with a swift move, he flips me over onto my stomach and pulls my ass up, with brutal precision and starts a relentless pace as he fucks me from behind.  His large hand gripped me tightly leaving marks on my body. "This is what you want isn't it?"

I start to clench around him, only getting more aroused at his words. "Oh you're so wet," he murmurs, moving one hand between my legs to stroke my neglected clit. The added sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body causing me to arch my back and cry out his name.

"That's it, Doll, take it all." 

"I'm close - please, Keegan," I pleaded to him to finally release me.

"Cum for me Doll," he growls picking up the pace even more. His cock slams into me over and over again, each thrust sending a vibration through my core as he pinched my clit hard. I started to cry out of pleasure and finally came spasming around his dick - coating him with all my juices.  Keegan held me firm supporting my body weight as he let me ride out my orgasm while starting to kiss me all over my body and leaving marks everywhere. 

After my orgasm, he guided me on top of him and I started to ride him as his hands roam over my body, griping my hips tightly again. His eyes followed the movements of my breasts, his mouth watering at the sight. He pulled me forcefully tight onto his shaft brushing against my cervix so I would start to see stars, his hand now pressed against the familiar bulge inside my womb.

Keegan started to rub my overstimulated clit again as he finally chased after his release, with each thrust his hips slams powerful against me, he became slowly sloppy and uncontrolable begging me to finally release him.

I clenched tight around his dick, his eyes rolled back inside his skull. With a groan that echoes through the room, Keegan's hot seed erupts inside of me, filling me up completely. His cockhead twitches as he emptied himself inside of me- pushing his cum deeper into my hole.

"Fuck." He collapsed on top of me, our bodies still entwined, Keegan pressed his face into the crook of my neck inhaling my scent. "What the fuck was that, no women made me cum like that before."

"Well, I'm pretty skilled at these things."

"You're fucking amazing Doll." He slowly pulled his softening dick out of me watching his seeds drip down from my cunt into his mattress.

"As much as I like to see you coated in my cum, let me clean you up."

"Oh, what a gentleman."

"It's the least I can do after you gave me the best orgasm of my life." 

"Oh was it?"

"Don't lie to me it was fucking amazing for you too."

"A close third place Keegan." I grinned.

"Don't challenge me Doll." 

"Or what?"

"You will regret this."

"Why?"

"You like Price even tho I don't know why."

"And Price doesn't like me, so I can have all my fun while he has his with that other woman."

"His loss is my win."

He cuddled against me after he cleaned his seed from my thighs but as he fell asleep snoring the only thought in my brain was John. 

I'm screwed.

[lyraoftheevergreens]

More To Love

Daemon Targaryen x Plus-size Wife

Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Smut! Minors do not engage! NSFW

Summary: His wife y/n Stark is beginning to feel insecure as she continues to gain wait with each child she bares him. He is the only one who can comfort his sobbing wife when they are forced to return to Kings Landing for a name day celebration for the princess.

Authors note: I suck at summaries. I wish I could just put “Daemon fucks the sad away. Like the good husband he is.” From one big girl to the next I hope you all enjoy this <3

Warnings: smutty smut smut, oral female receiving, p in v, Self degradation, Minor spelling and grammar errors. Semi edited

Word count: 2,280

Daemon Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, wielder of dark sister, rider of Caraxes, father to Baelon II, Aenar, Naerys, Aelor, Rhaena and Elaena. Husband to Y/n Stark. He married you when his brother ascended the throne, while it was no secret your family, house Stark, supported Rhaenys is claim to the throne. Your father had you marry Daemon to hopefully stop any retribution from there vote against Viserys. While your marriage was one of political duty it didn’t stop you from loving him nor he loving you. You left the north to join him in Kings landing, where you were to wed. You were just as wild as him, nothing was ever gonna stop him from falling in love with you. You had the distinct Stark characteristics of long brown hair and grey eyes. He could stare into your eyes for the rest of his life 8 years of marriage and already the two of you had 6 children and possibly another on the way. The two of you had decided it would be better to raise your children at Dragonstone without the input of others after having your first two, as well as the murmurs and rumors. You received much judgement for choosing to nurse your children rather than a wet nurse do it. It also didn’t help that you allowed your children to share the bed with you Daemon. People of the court were constantly murmuring about your family and they way you and Daemon are raising your children. They thought it repulsive that your children sleep in marital bed. It’s not as if you perform marital acts with your children present, they were far from any of that when it occurred. Then you became pregnant with Naerys, once you began to show the murmuring became worse. “How could they let there children sleep in such filth, now this child will have to sleep in it to.” “And the king allows this to happen in his castle.” “Have you heard, the dress makers had to make her new gowns again.” “How could the prince lay with someone so large.” “I suppose he has no problem lying with someone of her size when he lay with whores.” “I would not be surprised should he return to the pleasure houses, one could only lay with cattle for so long.”

Once you told Daemon what you had heard the two of you were gone to Dragonstone taking all your belongings and staff and you left. You and Daemon made sure the lust for one another would never die as you two continued to grow your family. Taking you on caraxes to Essos, leaving your children in the care of their maids. Or simply slipping into other bed chambers of the castle (empty ones, you two weren’t one to fuck on other people’s beds), or the beaches of Dragonstone to spend alone time together.

The king called for a feast to celebrate Rheanyra’s 13th name day. Daemon decided to leave for Kings Landing on Caraxes to ensure your rooms were prepared in time for your arrival with the children. Naerys is the oldest of your girls and most stubborn, like her father, refused to go on the ship with you and her siblings. Both you and Dameon felt it wasn’t a good idea for a child of only 5 years to fly on her own on via dragon back. Ultimately you and Daemon decided to allow her to fly with him on Caraxes. You knew your husband would protect your daughter with his entire life. He strapped her to him to ensure if she fell asleep she was still safe with him. He made sure to help you and the children on to the ship and to see you all off before leaving himself with Naerys. Your children loved seeing there father leave on Caraxes, they flew a bit to close to the ship causing it to rock knocking your boys to the floor, they laid there for a moment causing you to laugh as well as you held on to the knight your husband had assigned to you for the trip, Ser Ander.

Once arrived at the Kings Landing port you were met with your husband and daughter. Your daughter ran into your arms and told you how amazing flying on Caraxes was. Your boys told their father how much they enjoyed Caraxes rocking the ship and how they can’t wait for there dragons to be able to rock ships. You all left in a carriage to the Red Keep, and once arrived you were greated by Viserys, Aemma and Rhaenyra.

“Y/n, we are so glad you and the children have arrived safely.” Greated Viserys with a smile as he hugged you.

“Thank you your grace, we thank you for your invitation.”

“Please Y/n, you are my good sister, call me Viserys.”

“I will try my best, Viserys.”

“Aemma, how are you?”

“I’m quite lovely. Your self?” She asked as she rubbed her bump, you hadn’t known she was with child again.

“Lovely as well. Rhaenyra, how have you been as of late? Are you excited for the celebration?”

“I am, thank you.”

The exchange between Rhaenyra, Aemma and you felt strange in whole. You feel them judge you from their looks. You had put on a considerable amount of weight from the last time you were in kings landing and you could tell they judged you for it. While Aemma had been with child just as many times as you, you had the weight gain to show for it as she did not.

“Come let me show you to our rooms.” Daemon must have felt your unease as he thankfully interrupts the awkward exchange. The twins were to sleep with you and Daemon and the boys and Naerys in the chambers next yours and Dameon’s. Once alone you began to speak freely to Daemon.

“She’s with child once more? Poor Aemma, I pray that this babe is healthy.”

“Yes it’s quite tragic. I remember the two of you always being with child around the same time.”

“Yes, and that’s why it saddens me because we have 5 beautiful children they have one.”

“I know my dear-“ Daemon was interrupted by your children running in. Your youngest boy running behind being only 3 years of age.

“Kepa! Look they have it here! Aenar show him!” With that your second son hands his father his favorite Valyrian dragon book. All your children loved when Daemon would read to them.

“Yes there are plenty of books, perhaps we can go to the library on the morrow.”

“Yes!” Your children were so excited. They loved their father so much and it helped that he was a good one at that. Always reading to them, taking them to tend to there dragons and teaching them how to wield a sword (wooden sword).

The day had turned to night and you were nursing both twins when your husband had entered the room after seeing your other children to bed. “They are all asleep.”

“Oh good, thank you my love.” You thanked your husband and he walked over and kissed your forehead before sitting in the chair across from where you sat on the bed. He watched as you nursed his children and something began to stir inside him. Once done he took one babe and you the other and placed them in the children’s bed the maids had put in the room for the twins to sleep with you and Daemon. You had both drifted off the sleep, your head on Daemons chest and his arm around your shoulders holding you to him.

You woke the next morning feeling bloated and nauseous. The fact that none of your clothes were fitting quite right didn’t help either. You had not bled for two moon cycles now. A part of you suspected you were with child once more but you wanted to believe it wasn’t true. Daemon had entered the room after taking the boys and Naerys to the training yard, finding you sat on the floor crying.

“What has happened ñuhon dōna ābrazȳrys?”

(My sweet wife)

“Daemon.” You choked out in between sobs. He went to the floor with you holding you into his chest. “I’m with child. Again.”

“This is amazing!” Daemon said kissing your forehead.

“Tis not. I’m going to get wider, my skin will have more marks.”

“Yes but you always get smaller again. And I have scars on my body do you not love me?”

“Of course I love you, but your scars are from battle, mine are from the stretching of my skin.”

“Your skin that covers your body. Your body that grows our babes. Our children.”

“Daemon admit it. I do not get smaller, with each babe I birth I do not shrink back down in size. I will never be the size I was when we wed.”

“That is perfect for me. 6 children you have given me, soon 8-“

“There are no more twins growing in my womb.”

“We will see.” He says with a smirk. “I do not care for your size. Just means there is more to love. You are my wife, my wolf, my life and I love you. I love the marks on your skin, it’s proof that you birth my heirs, my children.”

“My marks can be hidden with gowns Daemon. With each child I birth I go up in size. I have birthed 6 children, soon to be 7 and I’m already in need of larger garments. I am huge, I’m ugly.” You sat on the floor crying into your husband’s chest when he speaks up. “I will not have you talking about my wife like this.” He picks you up with ease from the floor and toss you on to the bed. “Daemon!” You shout his name. “No, this is my wife you are discussing. Mother to my children. I will not have you slander her so.” He rips your night shift off you and you lay there bare before him. He is now on top of you and you begin to cover your growing breast when he grabs your wrist and pins them above your head, he holds them there with one hand. He kisses the palms of your hands,” these hands care for our children, they care for me, massaging parts of my aching muscles.” Kissing down both your arms. “These arms hold and comfort our children. They wrap around me at night with love, and sometimes pleasure.” He then takes one of your breast in his mouth, flicks the bud of your breast with his tongue while his free hand massages the other, he then repeats the same releasing you from his mouth to say,” these breast that kept and continue to keep our babes fed, these breast that I worship so, I thank the gods every time they grow larger.” He covers your growing abdomen in kisses,” this, this is where our babes grow, you keep them safe inside you. Our proof of the love we have for each other, proof of my love for you in the children we create.” He lowers his head between your legs and flicks your pearl with his tongue. He licks a big stripe up your core as he stays between your legs for quite sometime your a moaning mess when he releases you,” this cunt that squeezes my cock tight, that births our children,” he kisses down your legs, his hands now gripping your thighs, “these I love to hold apart while I have you screaming with pleasure while I devour you, to prevent you from squeezing my head with them. Your legs though that run to our children at the first cry. I love every part of you, small or big, you are my wife and I will worship every part of you.” With that he brings his mouth back to your pearl and uses his fingers to thrust in and out of you, his free hand massaging your breast. “Daemon please.”

“Please what my sweet wife.”

“Your cock, please.”

“As you wish ābrazȳrys.” With in second Daemons fingers were replaced with his thick, hard member thrusting into you at a pace that had you seeing stars, you moaned in pleasure as he fucked into you. “Keep moaning my sweet girl, let the whole castle know your husband makes you feel this good. Let them know how I worship you so.”

“Yes, Yes! Daemon.” You screamed and moaned for him, giving yourself away to the pleasure your husband gave you.

“Yes my dear, release your self on my cock, my good girl.” With that you were a moaning screaming mess as you reached your release, your nails clawed at his back, as you wiggled under him in pleasure, he fucked you through your release eventually reaching his own from feeling your cunt flutter around his cock. He growled into your shoulder as his seed filled you. He pulled out of you after a moment and layed next to you pulling you into him. His hand grabbing your ass and striking his palm to it,”I almost forget, this,” he grabbed,”this I absolutely love, I love to feel my stones smack against it as I fuck your sweet cunt. Or when I take you from behind I get to watch it shake as I pound into you.”

“Daemon!”

“What! It’s true! I love every part of you y/n. You are my wife, no matter your size i will worship you till I draw my last breath.

“I love you too.” You kiss his chest and he speaks once more. “Truly I thank the gods everyday for your growing tits and ass. I suppose it’s true what they say, you don’t know that something is missing from your life until you have it.”

“I assume in this case it’s tits and ass?”

“Not just any, your tits and ass my sweet wife.”

[mrsshabana]

𝐀 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐲

❀ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, taisho era, pure fluff

❀ Note So I decided to write an alternate ending to that Gyutaro comic that's been going around. I won't share it here because I don't want to post someone's art without their permission, but I've seen it all over Pinterest. If you haven't seen it, basically Gyutaro is working in a garden and three girls shout to him from their window. They ask him to come up and hang out with them. He becomes flustered and says, "Wait... really?" and then they say, "You really thought we were serious?" and start laughing at him and making fun of him, calling him a loser - causing him to run away in embarrassment. When I first saw that comic it broke my heart so I had to write something to give Gyutaro the ending he deserves.

He shouldn’t have been so gullible. But can you blame him? Girls never notice him, or if they do it’s always in a negative way. So the one time some cute girls asked him to hang out with them, of course he got excited. But it was just a cruel joke. 

After being so cruelly embarrassed, Gyutaro scurried away in a hurry. Trying to hide his tears so as not to embarrass himself further. 

He sits under a tree, away from view, and cries. Sobbing into the sleeve of his yukata, 

“I’m so stupid…” the boy whimpers. 

The weight of it all bearing down on him. He’s going to be a joke forever, isn’t he? No girl would show kindness to him, let alone give him a chance. As he soaks his yukata with tears his heart gets crushed by the rejection. 

Until someone’s voice calls out to him, “Hey! Garden boy!”

He looks up and sees a beautiful girl coming his way. He quickly wipes his tears and tries to hide the fact that he’s been crying. 

“Wh-what do you want?” 

“I wanted to join you, is that ok?” you say with a smile.

“No, I’m not an idiot,” he frowns, “I-I won’t fall for it again!” He tries his best to stand up for himself.

Your cheery expression shifts to one of sadness as you sit beside him, “Listen, I saw what happened.”

Gyutaro feels even more embarrassed now, knowing that you saw how he was rejected by those other girls. He wishes he could just hide and never face anyone again.

He looks down and says nothing, utterly ashamed. 

“Don’t listen to them, any girl would be lucky to spend an afternoon with you.” You gently place your hand on his shoulder.

“You’re lying… I’m disgusting… I’m a loser,” his voice quivers and his eyes begin to fill with tears. 

“No, you’re not! I’ll prove it to you.”

He quirks a brow and stares at you. What could you possibly mean?

You lean forward and kiss him. Softly pressing your lips against his. 

Immediately his entire face turns red. He can’t believe that just happened. If anything was going to shut up his insecurities, it would be a kiss from a cute girl. 

“I-I…” he stutters. 

You chuckle, “I’ve had a crush on you for a while. I never said anything because I was too shy. But when I saw how those girls treated you I felt like I had to say something.”

“A crush? On me…?” his eyes widen and he stares at you in disbelief. 

You nod, “I’ve watched you tend to the gardens here for a while,” you say shyly, “I think you’re really cute.”

This definitely made up for the embarrassment he had gone through earlier. Not only are you cuter than those other girls, but you’re really sweet too. Other girls don’t even come close to him because they find him too repulsive. But you actually kissed him! So there’s no doubt in his mind that your words are true. 

“W-Well um… I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you sometime,” he says as he shyly rubs the back of his neck. 

“I’d love that! I live in the blue house over there,” you point to the other side of the garden, “You should come by when you’re done working.”

His face heats up as he imagines visiting you at your home, “O-Ok, I’d like that.”

Before leaving you give him a kiss on the cheek. 

Excited to see you again, he quickly gets back on his feet and works like he was never rejected in the first place. Honestly, he’s never worked so fast.

[asumofwords]

Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series 4/4

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Pining, kiss, angst, anxiety, fingering, smut, pussy eating like a champ, creampie for days, creampie, longing, dirty talk, love, fluff.

Note: Good lord, this is a long one, and also the final chapter! It's sitting at 12k words, so settle in for a hefty piece because I refused to cut it down or into two. Thank you all so much for your love and support of this mini series, I have had so much bloody fun writing it! I hope you enjoy how I have ended it, and hopefully now I can do some one shots for once in my damned life hahaha. Anyway, enjoy!!! <3

Final Chapter: Inevitable Ends, New Beginnings

The first thing that you noticed as you woke was a soreness between your thighs, a dull ache that throbbed with your heart beat, eyes slowly opening to the early morning light.

The room had a light blue glow to it, the sun only just beginning to rise over the sea and lands behind you, casting your little sanctuary in a cerulean tint. 

The second thing that you noticed when you awoke that morning was that you were alone.

You turned in the sheets, eyes surveying the room in search for the silver head of hair you had grown accustomed to seeing almost every waking moment, but he was nowhere to be found, though there was evidence of his presence being there.

Bar the small marks on your skin, the smell of him in your sheets, and the soreness between your legs, your clothes that had been strewn on the floor were now neatly folded on your chest at the side of the room, and the lack of breeches and tunic told you that Aemond was already up and dressed.

A moment of anxiety crawled through you.

Had he left you?

But then you remembered that he had no way off of your island, unless of course he swam, which you very much doubted he would be desperate enough to escape you to do that. But then there was the reason for his absence that early morning that began to spiral out of control in your mind.

Had he slipped out of bed? Tiptoeing as quickly and quietly as possible to not stir you from your sleep because he regretted last night, and could not bare to face the shame and embarrassment of seeing you? 

Had your moment of weakness tainted his stature in society? 

Would he beg that you tell none other? 

Not that you knew anyone from where he was from, but still, the inferiority of your birth gnawed at your conscience and creeped through you like the bitter sea winds.

Did he get his fill and was now avoiding you at all costs? 

Was he repulsed in himself for laying with you? 

Did he wish to pretend that it did not happen? 

Was his early departure to find the time and wherewithal in himself to gather strength to not feel ill upon looking at you? 

Sure, men of his breeding were sometimes known to lay between any woman’s legs, but it was usually one of equal standing and not at all someone of your status. And if last nights activities were any reference, there was no doubt within your mind that he had in fact lain with women before, once, twice, more, if his skills were any indicator. But perhaps they had been Ladies of his court back home, women of good breeding in high society, and for him to have been with you, well that would be akin to rolling in the mud.

You pulled yourself from bed and dressed yourself nervously, shaking your runaway thoughts, fingers stumbling over your buttons, pulling hastily at the laces of your boots, all too tight for your feet to be comfortable.

When you walked into the living space, you found that the glasses and whiskey had also been put away, no longer on the table where they had been left that evening, and atop the coal stove sat your kettle, steam rising from its nozzle. 

Beside the door, your large coat was hung on its hook, and the hook beside it, which had recently held your fathers old coat, given to Aemond to keep him warm on the breezy island, was now bare. At the absence of the coat, you knew that Aemond was to be outside, and decided to go out in search of him. 

Perhaps he left early to see what he could salvage of your boat, desperate to rebuild it himself and risk another encounter with the waves in an effort to get away from you. Or perhaps he had-

You walked to the lighthouse, the only place he could possibly be besides the beach that was empty with few planks of wood and what remained of his ship that hadn’t been re-swept out to sea.

Dew covered your boots, kicked up from the soft strands of grass with every step you took. The air was cold, and as you breathed, a cloud of your breath puffed in front of you, white and soft that dissipated before your eyes just as quick as it came. 

The large door to the lighthouse creaked open, and then clunked shut behind you, echoing up the spirals of stairs, no doubt alerting him to your presence. You slowly began to make your way up the never ending steps, the only time in your life in which you had dreaded it and found each one to be harder than the last.

Would he run?

Would he scorn you for seducing him? Bewitching him? Tempting him?

Or would he let you down gently? Telling you the dispiriting truth that you both knew; That he was a Lord and you were not of good breeding, and he would have to go and be wed to his advantageous bride that awaited him back home, and that laying with someone like you was a grievous mistake indeed.  

Your heart beat in your chest rapidly, gut churning as you picked at the skin at your nails nervously. 

When you got to the top of the lighthouse's small landing where the lamp was held, you spun in search of him, spotting the figure of the sailor, bent over the small desk in the corner, quill in hand. 

His long hair was pulled back in a loose braid, tied together with a piece of ribbon from one of the bags of food William had delivered to you. You watched as his hand moved swiftly across the page of your log book, pointer and thumb delicately holding the quill as ink pressed into the parchment with a neatness and precision that could have only be attained from proper schooling.

Hearing your approach, Aemond lifted his head to face you. Stray strands of silver hair hung in front of his face, swiftly tucked behind one of his pale ears as he gazed at you.

A small smile pulled at his lips, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

All anxiety, all worries, any trepidations about his reaction after your coupling from the evening before were swept out the window when he stood straighter, smile pulling wider at his lips.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” He placed the quill in its holder, leaning down to the book to blow at the ink gently before he took a step toward you, “You needed the rest.”

Be still my beating heart.

You smiled at him shyly, watching as he came closer towards you, hand twitching at his side as though it longed to reach forth and close the gap between you.

But it didn’t.

“You should have woke me.” Your hands clutched each other tightly in front of your skirts, embarrassment licking at your neck. How could you have ever doubted him?

Aemond shook his head at you, “No need. You have already taught me what needed to be done.” He turned to face the table again, picking up the log book to hand to you, “I’ve logged the weather for the morning. Checked the lamp and oil reserves. All is well.” 

You took the book from him, watching as his finger reached to graze yours gently, sparks flying up your arm. His writing was neat, swift and soft loops pulling in a slant as he correctly and proficiently logged the winds, skies, seas and temperature. There was not a thing missing, and he had even written note of his predictions of the weather for the rest of the day.

He stepped closer towards you, heat radiating off of him, “Besides, it’s only fair since I spent the night teaching you something new.”

Heat rushed to your face, hands clutching the logbook tightly as you looked away nervously, hearing his soft chuckle before his head dipped, hands coming to grasp the log book from your own, fingers purposefully covering yours, “Do you want to double check my work?” He asked softly.

You shook your head underneath him, stepping back, letting him take the log book from you to place back on the table, “No, I trust you.”

At your words, a softer smile pulled at his lips, before he held his hand out in the direction of the stairs, “Shall we? You’ve not eaten yet.”

“How did you-“

“-You would have seen I was gone and come straight for me. You’re a naturally curious person, and no doubt had a myriad of questions or things to say. I wondered if you would have felt some sort of fear to wake up alone after what we did last night.”

Heat rose in your cheeks again, and you cursed yourself mentally for ever doubting him, for ever doubting yourself, “I thought perhaps you would have made a mistake. You are a Lord, and I-“

“-You are far more than what you believe. I have not met anyone quite like you. Your birth and rank mean nothing to me.” Aemond’s hand reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, warmth spreading through you at his words.

You couldn’t look at him, casting your gaze down to your hands as your eyes prickled with tears. How could he be so kind to you? How could he be so understanding? So calming? 

As your thoughts began to race away from you again, Aemond uttered your name, causing your gaze to raise to his.

“Stay with me. Do not let your mind run away from you.” His seeing eye flicked back and forth across your face, the other unmoving, “Come. Let's eat.”

-

Aemond had walked with you by your side back to your cottage, and together you ate your breakfast, talking quietly to one another, through the initial shyness that swallowed you, about anything and everything you could to avoid talking about the evening before and what it meant for you, and despite his obvious desire to discuss it, he did not push the conversation and allowed the pace to suit your needs.

And that was how your days passed, not quite dismissing what had happened, nor acknowledging it outright like before, but knowing that it had changed the space between the two of you. The dynamic had changed once again, the way you began to dote on each other changed, or more so, him doting on you more romantically.

For every morning that passed, you would wake to an empty bed to find him in the lighthouse before the sun would rise, logging the weather and checking upon the lamp. Even times where he would stir you from your sleep in the middle of the night as he left to keep an eye on it, or telling you to take rest and go to bed if you had been with the lamp in the late hours.

What was more, was that Aemond no longer slept upon the small couch, and nor did you, the both of you comfortably sharing your bed together in the cold of the night. At first you had been nervous, but Aemond had behaved as though the two of you had slept in a bed together for years, simply telling you that the two of you should retire for the night and sliding beneath the covers, opening the other side for you to crawl in after. 

Your initial thought at the behaviour was that he wished to dive between your thighs again, to lick and suckle at the crux of your legs or thrust himself between them, but not once had he pushed for it, or been untoward, in fact, he seemed to open the possibility of a second time to be entirely under your control. 

Not that he didn’t touch you, no, he would slide behind you and tuck you beneath his chin, arm wrapped around your middle to keep you close to him, lips pressing featherlike kisses atop your crown when he thought you had fallen asleep, fingers tracing your curves with a featherlight touch during the night.

The shift was not only different for the dynamic between the two of you and your new living arrangements, but different in your own duties. No longer did the work of the island consume your every waking moment and thoughts, for now you had time to sit, to read, to get a good nights rests and spend more time attending to smaller more menial tasks, like repairing clothing that you usually wouldn’t have time to, or cleaning the cottage throughly. You also felt yourself smiling more, laughing more, enjoying life and what Aemond brought to it. 

It was simple, nothing extravagant of course, but above all, content. It was in those quiet moments when he would tell you a tale of sailing or more sanitised story of his youth, small smile on his lips, did you realise that you were happy. Happier than you had ever been, and in every hour that passed spent with him, a warmth within grew. 

A warmth for him grew.

It wasn’t until you had insisted that Aemond sleep the early morning and for you to tend to the lamp did you realise just how much time had passed. 

You were up the lighthouse on the circular gallery that it had outside, leaning against the railings as you looked out at the water, watching as the dark blue waves rocked softly against the cliff below, and even more gently towards shore, which was slowly becoming illuminated with the sun. But that was not all that was illuminated.

There on the rocking waves, was a row boat, off in the distance, making its way towards you.

It was not an unfamiliar boat, nor was it manned by an unfamiliar man.

William was rowing towards your island, reprieve supplies in tow which he delivered on time, every time, but this time you had forgotten what day it was, how much time had passed since he last came, too preoccupied with the new and exciting presence that had landed upon your beach. 

With swift steps you made your way down the spiral case and sped to the cottage.

What would William say when he saw Aemond?

Would he be shocked?

Would Aemond be compelled to leave?

Would William send word to Aemond’s family and alert the town, thus speeding up Aemond’s farewell?

You selfishly didn’t want him to leave, and almost wished William had forgotten about you, just this once. And there it was, that ache in your chest once again at the thought of him leaving, at the very real knowledge that he would leave, and that you would be alone once more.

When you entered the cottage, Aemond was seated at the table, cup of steaming tea in his hand with another in front of him at your seat waiting. 

Waiting. 

He was waiting for you, with fresh tea made. 

Your eyes welled with tears before you swallowed them down, a lump in the back of your throat forming. You almost didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to see the excitement light in his eye in knowing that he could go.

That brilliant violet eye, a colour you had never thought to be true on a person until you saw him, a colour in which made your heart fill with warmth and stomach full of flurry, looked up at you, smile at the ready until he saw your anxious demeanour. 

Your shifted on your feet back and forth before pulling your coat off to hang at the door awkwardly. 

Sensing your anxiety, Aemond straightened in his seat, “What is it?” His smooth timbre crackled in the air, your back facing him as your face crumpled.

You swallowed and steeled yourself as you turned to sit with him at the table, pulling out your chair opposite to him as you sat quietly, grasping the hot mug in your hands.

“Is there another storm coming?” His voice wavered as he asked, lingering fear of storms still clawing painfully in his mind. The visions of the waves, the darkness, the screams of his men, the water entering his lungs, the-

“A man comes.” Your voice pulled him from his memories, fingers tightening on the sides of the mug, “William. He brings my reprieve.”

Aemond’s silver brows pulled into a frown, “You sent word of my presence.”

It wasn’t a question. 

It was an accusation. 

“No.” You shook your head, and watched as he visibly relaxed, “I wouldn’t have sent word unless you asked. William brings my reprieve every fortnight or so. We have been so busy I,” You gnawed at your lip, “I forgot. I thought we would have had longer, but now I suppose when he comes, you can go with him. Take lodge in his home.” You sipped the hot tea to swallow your nervous rambling, but still it broke forth, “I have a friend, a fellow sailor. Dalton Greyjoy, he could take you close to home, another port, anywhere to help. I don’t have money to pay for your passage, but he likes me well enough to perhaps do me this one favour. Or mayhaps you could offer gold on your arrival, I’m sure-“

“-You wish for me to leave?”

“No. But I know you must.” Your heart clenched in pain, you lowered your gaze to the mug of tea in your hands, watching the steam slowly rise from it, “You have a family waiting for you, worried for you. I do not wish to keep you here knowing that I may be causing you pain, or your family pain in the unknown.”

If you had raised your eyes to meet his, you would have seen Aemond frown lightly, but you didn't, so you hadn’t.

“You do not keep me here, and my family are not of your concern.” A beat, “Nor mine.”

Silence wrapped around the both of you as you refused to meet his gaze.

“When shall he arrive?”

You swallowed, looking at the small clock on the mantel, “Within the hour.”

Aemond nodded in your periphery, chair scraping beneath him as he stood, “Excuse me.”

His footsteps echoed on the stone flooring as he made his way to the door, pulling your fathers coat onto his shoulders before he left, no doubt waiting at the small alcove or beach to watch William arrive. 

You stared at the clock for some time, watching as the minutes ticked by, arm moving across its face slowly. But now that he was gone, away from seeing you, you allowed yourself to feel the ache that had crashed inside of you. Tear after tear fell down your cheeks silently as you watched the clock, the heat of the mug that lightly stung your palms, slowly but surely turning cold. 

He would leave, and you would be alone. 

Alone. 

Again. 

And he would leave and marry another.

Not you.

It shocked you that the thought of him laying with another, holding another tightly to him, caressing her, kissing her, smiling at her in ways that only you had seen thus far, made your stomach feel as though a knife was twisting itself inside. The lump in your throat sharp as though a dagger had been thrust through flesh and sinew, obstructing you from swallowing or breathing.

It felt as though you were losing him again. 

You didn’t know why, you couldn’t reason with it, for you had never known him before, but that day on the beach, as he lay lifeless in the sand, you had lost him. 

And then he had come back. 

And now he was to leave once more, and no more would he laugh in your small four walls, nor would he wake you with tea, or twist in the sheets beside you. 

No more would his hand linger upon yours, or his lips, or-

As another tear fell, the door to the cottage opened, and your hands quickly swiped up the wet tracks left behind on your cheeks. Rapid steps moved into the room as the door clunked behind.

“Your friend has arrived.” Aemond breathed, looking at the redness of your eyes and un-wiped tears on your chin. 

You swallowed, that dagger still lodged in place and nodded your head to stand, averting your eyes from his as you brushed down your skirts, “I suppose then I should fare you well.”

All that you could hear was the crackling of the fire and the beat of your heart thundering in your ears. You knew if you looked up at his face, to look into his lilac eye, to gaze upon his soft lips and sharp edges, that you would fall apart.

And so you didn’t, keeping your eyes averted to the corner of the room near the fireplace, wishing for it to be over. Wishing that he had never washed ashore so that you wouldn’t have to bear the heartbreak of him leaving. 

Because that’s what it was, you realised in that moment. 

Heartbreak.

“I’m afraid I will have to ask for your generosity once more.” Aemond breathed, and you blinked, slowly raising your eyes to meet his. His seeing eye searched your face as he breathed heavily, “I feel I may be succumbing to illness. I am falling- I feel,” He swallowed, “I feel compelled to stay. If you’ll have me. If not for a while longer.” His chest rose and fell visibly beneath the coat, hair cascading over his shoulders like waves of water.

He wished to stay?

Here?

With you?

Aemond blinked at your silence as his shoulders slumped slightly. He shook his head, looking to the floor, “Forgive me. That was too much to ask of you-“

“-No.” You shook your head, “No, not at all. If you,” You swallowed thickly, “If you feel unwell and compelled to stay, who am I to cast out a Lord in need?”

Relief washed over the two of you, and an unspoken air of gratitude floated amongst the space. You fought the urge to smile, to laugh, to jump with joy at the prospect of him staying longer. Of wanting to stay longer, of the thought that perhaps staying here with you was better than the prospect of going home to his family. 

His previous words echoed in your head.

Let me stay dead a while longer. 

Was this his staying dead a while longer? Avoiding his duties that awaited him when he returned home?

“Will you tell William of my presence?” His voice broke you from your revere.

You blinked.

Would you?

“Did you wish for me to?”

“No.”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief, “Then I shall not tell William of your presence.”

Aemond shifted on his feet, before nodding, “Thank you.”

You gave him a hopeful smile in response.

-

William arrived not too long after your agreement with Aemond for his extended stay, and hidden presence. You watched on from shore as he pulled his boat up the sand, his warm eyes crinkling at the sight of you.

“Y/n, my girl!” He called out to you, trudging up the sand to you as he pulled you into a tight embrace which you returned heartily, head tucked against his chest. 

Ever since your father had passed, William had become a father figure to you, but he had always been like that. Or at least like an uncle, a man who cared and loved you just as much as he did his own. You considered him family, and he considered you one of the same.

“How have you fared? We worried for you with that storm." His hand gripped your shoulder tightly, "Celia was beside herself with worry, pacing about the fire each night. Thought she would have burnt a hole in the floors by the end of it.” He chuckled, pulling away to look you over as you smiled up at him.

“As you can see, I am alive and well. The sea did not swallow me this time round.” You smiled, and turned to help him pull his boat further up the beach to unpack the supplies.

“Not all were so lucky,” William cast a glance to the remaining debris from Aemond’s ship, “Large pieces of hull washed ashore, we worried the ship had run aground atop the lighthouse.” His voice grew morose, “A few men washed up on the beach, but none survived the storm.”

You nodded solemnly, pulling a large bag of flour from the row boat as you lined it up on the grass with the others, “Debris landed here too. The ship sunk just off of the horizon in the thick of the storm. The sea took all.”

William hummed sadly, “Unbelievable storm that, not even Lord Greyjoy had seen a storm so large. Did any find their way here?”

You straightened, heart beginning to race in your chest. You swallowed and carefully thought of your next words, “One. Though he succumbed to waves like the others.” 

The lie made you shift uncomfortably. You didn’t want to lie to William, but you didn’t want to go against Aemond’s wishes either.

A large hand grasped your shoulder and tightened softly, “There was nothing you could have done. We saw the lighthouse day and night through the storm and thats how we knew you were safe. Celia dragged me to the beach in the rain to make sure it was on as proof of your wellbeing.”

You nodded, “It would take far more than a storm to stop me or the lamp.”

William chuckled, a crackly laugh that was familiar and warm, “Don’t I know it. Now, are you going to make this old man a drink, or do I have to beg for one.”

You laughed at his words, picking up the sack of flour and other bags of food and supplies, leaving the large crates for him to carry, “Come on then, before the Gods take you.”

-

After doing multiple trips and talking along the way, the cottage was now filled with supplies and food for the next fortnight. Flour and dried meats and other items were strewn on the counter and in the kitchen, leaning against the walls and shelves, whilst small jars of pickled foods and jams made by Celia were neatly lined in a small crate on the table.

When the two of you had begun to drop the supplies into the cottage, you held your breath, hoping that Aemond had made himself scarce and out of the way as you came in and out. Thankfully, your bedroom door was for once closed, and you assumed Aemond was keeping himself quiet inside. 

William sipped at the warm tea you made him as he seated himself in the chair that had become Aemond’s, long stocky legs stretched out in front of him as he rubbed a knee with a hand, working some invisible pain or injury out of it.

“Place looks good,” William commented, eyes roaming across the room, “You’ve been busy.”

You hummed in reply, lifting the mug to your lips. 

If only he knew. 

But William’s gaze stopped by the door, eyes locked onto something as he wordlessly stared. 

Shifting in your seat you turned to face it, stomach dropping. 

Beside your empty hook, was the other.

And hung on it, was your fathers old coat.

Aemond’s coat.

Your head turned back to look at William, mouth opening and shutting as you tried to think of an excuse, as you tried to think of a way to explain as to why there was a man’s coat hung on your door when you had supposedly been alone. And as you opened your mouth to explain yourself, to make up some poor take of an excuse, William beat you to it.

“I miss him too.” His voice was lower than it had been before, “Did you keep all his belongings?”

Your heart pounded in your ears, and a pang of grief moved through you. 

Your pa.

He thought you had his coat out because you missed him.

And whilst you did miss him, you were thankful that that was what William thought of it, and not that there was a man living with you, currently hiding in your bedroom. Though, that would be a hard thing for William to believe, even if you told him.

You nodded, “It seemed a waste to be rid of them.” You sipped your tea, wondering where this conversation may lead you. 

William gave a gruff sigh, “Do you not get lonely here? You’re all on your own. A woman your age should have a companion, someone to talk to at the very least. A cat even.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Are you suggesting I marry someone? I have my pigeon, but she’s not very talkative.”

The sea weathered man raised his shoulders, “You’re not getting any younger.” His words irritated you as he continued, “Not that you’re not capable of doing this on your own.” He explained, watching as your eyes narrowed on him, “You’ve proven yourself more than capable for that. I just,” Another sigh, “I know this isn’t what your father wanted for you.”

“Wanted for me?”

“He didn’t want you here, trapped. He wanted you to see the world, to go out and meet someone. He hoped you would settle down, start a family. He did not want to bear the burden of the lighthouse onto you.”

You looked down at the table, “It’s not a burden.”

“I know.” He said, but it didn’t sound as though he believed you, “But how often do you get to do things for yourself?”

You gave him a small smile, “I am perfectly content here, I don’t see why I should have to marry.”

“I’m not saying you have to, I’m merely suggesting the option.”

You hummed, “Well, not many men would like to live this life, nor are they prepared or knowledgable enough for it.”

Except for Aemond.

William laughed, crows feet becoming deeper, “I know you think men are a burden, if not a waste of ones time, but you never know, one may just wash ashore and change your perspective.”

Your breath stilled in your chest.

Did he know?

“What about Greyjoy?” William clicked his fingers, “The Dalton lad.” “His eyes always looks for you when he comes to town. Asks after you; Where you are, who you’re with, what you’re doing. Nice lad.”

“Nice enough.” You shifted uncomfortably, “But his heart belongs to the sea, and he would scarcely be home. What life would I live raising a child with a father who blows in with the tide? Not to mention, he has, shall we say, fleeting affections for others.”

William snorted, “I wouldn’t say his affections for you were fleeting, but aye, he is a man of the sea through and through. And those Greyjoys are known for their whoring.”

You guffawed, “William!”

“What?” He looked at you incredulously, “I speak the Gods honest truth. He wouldn’t be my first choice for you, but Celia-“

“Ahh.” You leant back in your chair, “Has Celia been playing the matchmaker of late?”

The older man grumbled, “When has she not? She tried to suggest Edmund Pyke-“

“-The fish mongers son?”

“Aye.” William shook his head, “Meek young man, too meek for the likes of you. I told Celia you’d eat him alive.”

A huffed chuckle fell from your lips, “Not much to devour. If I remember correctly, he stands half your size. Quiet boy.”

“Indeed. Always a shock when you hear him speak, like a mouse’s fart.” The man teased, draining the rest of his tea in one gulp, “But a man like that is no match for a woman like you. You need someone who can take what you give.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, “I doubt any man would be worthy of you. You are so very much like your mother; kind, soft.” A grin pulled at his lips, "But then you are frustratingly stubborn like your father and argumentative to a fault. And Gods awful at making tea.” He grimaced.

“My tea is perfectly fine, thank you very much. If it is so horrible for you to drink, then perhaps you should make yourself scarce.” You bit the insides of your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling, and William did the same, until finally he burst into a howling laugh, hand on his stomach as his head bent backwards.

“Oh no,” He grinned, standing with a grunt and pop of his knees, “I don’t worry for you marrying a man, I worry for the poor soul who will have to marry you.” 

You stood to meet him, “Then you needn’t worry, for I see no husband on the horizon by the name of Greyjoy or Pyke.”

William raised a brow, “Just those names then?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, “Be quiet, you.” You smacked him on the chest lightly, letting him pull you in for a final hug.

-

Slowly you walked William back to his boat, chatting quietly amongst yourselves as you went to shore, helping him to drag it down the sand to the water, the little vessel swaying in the small waves, the sun slowly beginning to set in the horizon.

“Now you take care of yourself, you hear me? Come to town and visit when the weather is fare. The girls would love to see you.”

You nodded, promising to come soon, hugging him once more on the sand. 

William took one final gaze at you, eyes searching your face with an almost unreadable expression to it, “You’ve changed.” He pushed his boat further into the water before sitting to face you, rowers in hands as his boat rocked side to side on the small waves, “You’re lighter. Brighter. Before the storm you were dull, but now…” His voice trailed off in the wind as he rowed himself backwards slowly, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love!” He called out, boat moving away from the beach.

“A good thing you know better!” You called out after him, heat rising in your neck and face as your heart began to race in your chest, “Give my love to the girls!” You waved and he nodded, your feet stepping back to avoid a small wave that dragged water up to your boots, “And tell Celia to stop trying to marry me off like a prized mare!”

“I’ll do no such thing!” William yelled back laughing, before finally he was away. 

-

You stood on the beach, watching the man grow smaller and smaller as he made his way back to shore. Your feet had begun to sink into the sand, damp seeping in through the sides before you decided to return back to the cottage. 

When you entered, your bedroom door was open, and Aemond was in the kitchen, pumping water in the dry sink to wash the two cups and put them away. As he heard your approach he turned his head toward you, though not fully.

“He seems a decent man.” He stated softly, hands scrubbing the tea from the cups.

You smiled softly, “He is. I grew up with him. Always visiting me and pa whenever he had the chance. And when pa died, he became a father to me.”

Aemond hummed, “He cares a lot about you, as if you’re his own.” Aemond grabbed a cloth and dried the mugs placing them back on the shelf, “It’s good to see decent men being decent fathers.”

You nodded and smiled. You knew from what Aemond had told you that he did not have a good relationship with his father, and you were more than fortunate to not only have one, but two father figures in your life who had been nothing but loving to you.

And whilst you thought of memories of your pa and William, the air in the cottage shifted.

Aemond dried his hands and turned to face you, his posture stiff, face pulled into a hard line, “You didn’t tell me that Dalton was pursuing you. You would let me leave on his ship with him without saying as much?”

There was something in his eye and the way that he spoke that made you shift on your feet nervously. 

You began to pull your coat from your shoulders, “Pursuing is an exaggeration.” You lied to yourself, “Dalton has no desire to ask for my hand, nor has he ever expressed any desire. His family are Lord’s. He himself is a Lord. His family would never approve of my-“

“-But he wants you.” Aemond said lowly, stepping forward, looking down at you from his nose, “Desires you. I heard William say that he seeks you out, asks after you. It’s clear there is something there between you.”

Your brows furrowed, “Do you make a habit of listening in on others conversations? There is nothing between me and Dalton. I have known him all my life, and to this day nothing has happened. He is scarcely in town, always on the seas exploring new lands, new women. His interest in me is purely physical, I assure you.”

“And is it reciprocated?”

You blanched, blinking up at him, “Reciprocated?”

Aemond’s jaw twitched as he looked down at you, “Do you desire him in the way he desires you? Do you wish for him to touch you?” His voice dropped lower as he stepped towards you, hand coming to tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering at the skin of your neck, “To taste you?”

You couldn’t think. 

Couldn’t breathe.

Stuck to the floor as you looked up at the silver haired man whom you now realised was jealous. 

His lilac eye had darkened as he looked down his nose at you, sharp features illuminated harshly by the fire behind him. His lips were pulled into a stiff line, and his chest rose and fell shallowly.

“Well?”

You blinked again, and cleared your throat softly, “No.” You whispered quietly to the room, watched as his brows furrowed in disbelief, “Once I had.” You admitted watching as his jaw ticked, “But that was before I met you. It feels a long time ago, and it was merely a passing thought, one bred by the desire to not be alone.”

At your words, Aemond seemed to relax, his lips softened and brow evened out, though his jaw remained clenched, “And are you alone?”

Your head cocked to the side.

Alone?

But he was standing right with you.

Right in front of you.

“No?”

Aemond huffed a small humourless laugh at your response, clearly you had misunderstood him. 

“Do you feel lonely? With me here?”

You licked your lips, feeling the warmth of his body come closer as he stepped forward, fingers at your neck sliding to the back, tangling themselves into your hair as he pulled you closer. His mouth was a breath apart from yours, his eye on your lips as you heaved uneven lungfuls, waiting for your answer.

You tilted your head upwards, lips brushing against his softly, the feeling sending warmth settling into your gut as you chased his embrace. But Aemond did not let you close the gap, and moved his lips away, awaiting your answer yet again.

As soft as a whisper came your answer.

“Not anymore.”

Aemond’s lips met yours as soon as the words left your mouth, chasing yours in a heated kiss, the hand at the back of your neck tangling in your hair tightly as he pulled you impossibly closer, other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you against him, almost lifting you onto his own feet. 

His lips felt like a breath of fresh air, a fire within you set ablaze with each passing moment. You chased after him as much as he chased after you, your hands desperately pulling his tunic closer to you, neck craned up on your tip toes to reach.

The sailors hands came to the front of your dress, teeth nipping at your bottom lip causing you to gasp. His tongue took advantage of your parted lips, licking into your mouth at the opening. You moaned warmly, feeling his hands pause at the buttons at the front of your dress. You nodded sharply, not willing to part from him to verbally give an answer. 

With practised ease, he began to pull at the buttons one by one, slowly opening the front of your gown. When it was finally undone down to your navel, you parted for air, a wave of realisation crashing over you.

“The lamp.” You breathed breathlessly, rearing your head back to look up at Aemond, night had begun to fall outside.

His eye was half lidded, pupil expanded across the lilac, and a soft pink dusted on his cheeks, “Already lit.” He mumbled before crashing his lips back against yours. 

You made a startled squeak, and wondered briefly when he had had the time to go light it in your absence. But any lingering questioning you had were lost when his large hands scooped under the front of your collarbones and up to your shoulders, slowly sliding the gown down your torso, freeing your arms as he went. 

He stepped back to look over you, goosebumps rising on your skin as his heated gaze roamed over your breasts and body. His lips were pink and swollen from your embrace, and the pupil of his eye expanded.

Feeling a spur of confidence, you undid the small belted laces at the back, letting the heavy dress and skirts fall to the ground beneath you in a puddle.

Aemond was on you in a second, the room tilting as you were suddenly picked up, legs automatically wrapping around Aemond’s hips as he hungrily kissed you, all teeth and tongue and impatience, neediness bleeding through the both of you in a rush of desire.

It was as though wildfire had caught in the space between, and it burnt at you both hotly, the flames licking higher and higher on your bodies, an all consuming need. 

Your need for him burnt.

“Bed.” He murmured into your lips, speedily walking to the room before he dropped you onto the bed with a bounce.

You gazed up at him through your lashes and watched as he pulled his tunic from over his head with one hand in one swift movement, your eyes roaming down his lean body.

Pale littering of scars were on his chest and arms, and your gaze moved lower still to the trail of hair that lead to what was beneath his breeches, the memory of it causing your core to clench around nothing.

Aemond breathed heavily looking down at you before he pulled you to the edge by your feet, a squeak rising from your chest as he loomed over you. 

With haste, Aemond unlaced your boots, throwing them away alongside the stockings he rolled down your legs impatiently. Then came your stays, which did not survive his large, weather worn hands, which tore the laces from their holes, ripping the material at the seams. 

You gasped loudly as he did it, not truly knowing the strength he had hidden, which was then smothered by his wanting mouth, body climbing on top of you as he kissed and nipped sharply at your lips with his teeth, hips pressing down into your own as he ground into you.

Heat settled in your gut with each thrust of his hips, his hardening length brushing against your sensitive pearl each time, sending shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. The kiss consumed you, heat rising in the room as the both of you gripped and pulled at each other desperately, Aemond only breaking the kiss to pave a path down your neck, stopping every so often to suck or bite at your flesh, marking you which caused you to mewl beneath him. 

He sunk lower and lower on the bed, pulling up your slip with his hands as he settled between your thighs once again, your hands gripping the sheets of the bed as you looked down at him. His eye was already on you, watching your face as he breathed cool breaths against your bare core. 

You whimpered as he blew air onto it, cold on your throbbing bud as he smirked up at you, “Sīr lōz.”, He cooed, swiping two fingers gently up your slit, parting your folds.

A finger pressed down on you, watching with delight as you squirmed beneath him. You bucked your hips up towards his lips shyly as he blew against you again, smirking at how you whimpered and writhed, desperate to alleviate the ache that had been building within since he captured your lips with his. 

“Is something wrong?” Aemond smirked, rubbing his fingers through your folds, but never quite touching you were you needed him.

“Please.” You whispered, hips seeking his fingers desperately.

“Please, what?"

You shut your eyes tightly, embarrassment coursing through you, "Please, Aemond."

The man chuckled gently, pressing a kiss just above where you needed him, watching as your eyes opened to look down at him again.

"Syt ao? Mirros.”

Aemond ducked his head between your thighs, hand on either side of your thighs, holding you open for him as he licked a wide stripe up your centre, tongue flicking against your bud.

Your back arched from the bed, eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through you. The Targaryen moaned into your folds, beginning to lap at them hungrily, thumbs holding you open for him so that he focused on your pearl. 

“Iksā sīr vok syt nyke.” Aemond groaned, two long fingers finding your entrance, slowly beginning to push inside of you. 

Your breath hitched as they entered, immediately curling up to the soft spongey spot inside of you that he found last time, memorising each and every inch of your body and the reactions that you made when he licked, sucked, pressed or rubbed against it. 

The sounds he made as he lapped at your core was filthy, depraved, and down right ravenous, moaning into your cunt as pleasure wound tightly in your belly, his ministrations slowly but surely pulling you towards the edge, no doubt assisted by his low rumblings in his mother tongue.

“Nyke jorrāelagon ao.” He gasped against your thigh, watching his fingers disappear inside of you as he began to fuck them at a faster pace, wetness coating your thighs and the bed beneath you “Gaomā daor gīmigon ziry,” He kissed at your thigh looking up into your eyes with an intensity that made the breath in your chest still, “Yn iksi vēttan naejot sagon.”

Your hips bucked, one hand releasing the sheets to card through his hair, his lilac eye momentarily shutting as you pulled lightly at the strands, a hum vibrating his chest, “Common tongue, please.”

“More tongue?” Aemond responded cheekily, eyebrow raised at you, and before you could quip back, he was back to using his mouth on you, sucking your pearl into his mouth as his fingers did not slow, the tension in your gut about the break. 

“Oh.” You breathed, mouth open, “Oh Gods. Oh- fucking Hells.” Pleasure raced through you violently, and a long pealing whine flitted from your lips as you reached your peak.

Aemond sucked your bud into his mouth as he flicked his tongue against it, fingers fucking inside of you speedily through it, the wet squelching of your release loud in the room with each thrust of his hand. Your grip in his hair tightened and you pulled, still falling from the precipice he had brought you to, a deep grunt vibrating into your already sensitive core. 

“Aemond- Nng- Please. Slow down.” You whined, writhing as the pleasure soon turned borderline painful, too overstimulated to function.

With a final broad wipe of his tongue, the silver haired man ceased his movements, allowing for your body to finally slump into the pillows, a light sheen of sweat covering you. 

Your eyes slid shut as you huffed a laugh, whimpering lightly when he pulled his fingers from within you. Aemond placed wet kisses to the top of you mound, your hip bones, and then to your stomach which he revealed by pulling your slip up your body. 

Only did your eyes re-open when he kept lifting the slip up over your breasts, his mouth coming down to capture a pert nipple in his mouth. He rolled it with his tongue, teeth lightly holding it in place as he slotted his hips against you once again.

You moaned, hands sliding down his sides to his breeches which were still very much on his hips.

“Off.” You breathed, tugging at his pants, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft pop.

“Patience, byka perzys.” Little flame, Aemond chuckled, shifting to drag his breeches down his legs, kicking them off the bed along with his boots. 

When he laid back against you, his hands moved to your shift again, pulling it over your head, leaving the two of you bare before each other once again. His head dipped and captured your lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue tart and musky.

Swiftly, Aemond used his thighs to part your own, moving them over the top of his as he lined the hard tip of his cock up with your soaked entrance.

Without pause, Aemond slid inside of you, catching your gasp in his mouth as you stretched around him. There was only the slightest of stings this time, your body far more relaxed than the first time.

The head of his cock pressed against your cervix snugly as he pushed to the hilt, the feeling of fullness spreading within you and up through your gut. You don't think that you could ever get used to such a feeling, such an all encompassing fullness that would forever shock you.

Aemond didn’t wait to give you a chance to adjust, and began to thrust himself through your silky walls immediately, sparks of pleasure beginning rippling up your body. A large hand held your hip, whilst the other buried itself in your hair, tilting your head further back for him to dive his tongue into your mouth, flicking at your own as you messily grabbed and kissed one another.

Feeling yourself begin to jolt up the bed, you lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer to you, desperate whine moving through you as his hips clapped against yours.

It was frenzied, fiery, and with each smack of his hips, you felt your wetness spread against his thighs and hair at the base of his length, his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive nub.

“Sīr ȳrda.” He moaned, head dipping into the crux of your neck, hand on your hip skimming to the globe of your ass, squeezing it as he fucked you harder, grunts spilling from his lips growing louder.

“You feel so good.” You whimpered, hands clawing at his back sharply as you felt a familiar coil within begin to wind again, “Please.”

Aemond raised his head to look down at you, your gaze meeting his. With his thumb, Aemond began to swirl small, wet circles into your pearl, accelerating your oncoming release. The lilac of his eye looked almost black as he lowered his voice to you.

“Take it from me.” 

Pleasure coursed through your veins. Blinding white heat pummelling through you as you reached your peak below him.

“There you go.” He cooed, watching as your release crashed over you.

Aemond tumbled over the edge with you with a cry. Your nails dug into his back as he sped up, looking down intently, mouth slack as he watched you come apart from below, not once breaking your locked gaze.

His forehead pressed into yours as he slowed, the throbbing of his length inside you and warmth of his spend filling you causing a smaller wave of pleasure to race through you, your walls clamping down onto him. Aemond hissed before coming to a stop, the both of you panting heavily, bodies going slack, the weight of him on top bringing you an odd sense of comfort.

Carefully Aemond rolled off of you, his cock sliding out from your sensitive walls as he lay on his back, pulling you into his side to tuck your head beneath his.

You curled into him immediately, as though you had done it a million times before, fitting perfectly at his side. You wrapped an arm around his middle, lifting a leg to hook over his hips, which he held and sooth his his hand. 

Your entire body was buzzing with the after mass of your release, limbs feeling heavier than they once were. The two of you sweaty and satiated, whilst small little huffs of joy breathed into the space as you both fell into a comfortable rest.

 -

Another week goes by, and soon enough, it had been almost a month since Aemond washed ashore on your island. 

Almost a month since the largest storm you had seen raged across the horizon and into the headlands.

Almost a month since you had nursed a man back from death and back to the living.

Almost a month since your heart began to grow fond of the man. 

Almost a month since you had grown content with Aemond’s presence. 

Things had changed again, not in any negative way, but things became more passionate, more heated, more tender.

Aemond would touch you whenever he could, hold you whenever he could, hand pressed against yours. Lips to yours, or your cheek, or forehead, and his his hands would seek you in gentle caresses that would set you alight and wanting for more.

And he always gave you more.

He seemed to be insatiable, never quite getting his fill, and whatever he had awoken inside of you was equal in fever. 

You noted that his personal preference was to be between your thighs, lapping at your folds whenever he could, pulling peak after peak from you whether on your bed, or the couch, against the table or walls or doors or kitchen bench. And even, on one occasion, in the lighthouse, pressed against the bricks with a leg hitched over his shoulder. 

Aemond never seemed to get enough of it, always insisting on it before he would sink himself inside of you. You had asked him why once, and he had flushed, stating that it was to prepare you, but when you had asked again, he said that there was no greater sweetness in all the lands he had travelled to than your, so eloquently put, cunt. 

Not that you minded, in fact, it began to be a favourite pass time of your own. 

When you had woken that morning, it wasn’t to your usual bodily clock, rising before the sun after years of habit, but rather to the warm and wet sensation that prodded and swiped between your legs.

You rose with a moan, and then a deeper one as you found Aemond between your thighs kissing your centre like a man starved. It didn’t take him long to get you to reach your peak, and when you had, he had smiled almost smugly, and stated that that was all he needed to eat for the day.

But the newfound intimacy and exploring each others bodies wasn’t all that you enjoyed in your shifting tides together. Each moment spent with Aemond you learnt more about him. Piece by piece he would reveal new information to you. A new memory, a new story, a new piece of knowledge about the mysterious man that you would itemise and lock away in the back of your mind to create a larger picture of the man in front of you.

You spent hours reading together when not working, for double the hands makes for swift work, and you found that for the first time in your life, you had the ability to sit down, to breathe, to not have every waking moment thinking about the lighthouse and only the lighthouse. And in those moments of breath and thought, you realised how much you truly had been missing out on in life. 

You had thought you had been content alone, but the more time you spent with him, the more time you spent reading or hearing about his own adventures, you realised, much to your dismay, how you longed to do the same. But you couldn’t ever leave, for no-one would man the lighthouse after you, at least no-one you would know to be so proficient. Unless it was William himself, but he had a wife and daughters and a job of his own, and you would never ask him to do such a thing for your selfish wants and imagination.

And so you were content in savouring each moment you had with the sailor whilst he was still there, laughing loudly over whiskey as he told you of a story of his older brother losing a wooden sword match with one of his nephews, or another time in which his brother Aegon had grown so drunk at a family event, that two maids had to assist him to bed, dropping him halfway up the stairs as they went.

You learnt that his sister, Helaena, was a sweet and gentle woman with a soft and kind heart. She had, what he called, a nervous or paranoid disposition, and often believed her dreams that things were to happen, the family taking no notice to her fretting. Though he did note, with an ashen face, that she had warned him once about a danger beneath the eye. 

Had she meant the eye he lost?

Or the eye of the storm which led to his ships demise, and almost his own?

Aemond did not know.

His mother, you learnt, Alicent, was a stern and pious woman, heavily religious and intent on him performing his duties and marrying a young Lady from a neighbouring land. Though at times she seemed to be somewhat overbearing and traditional in his retellings, when he spoke of her, there was a deep fondness in his eye, and it made you all the more disappointed in yourself for having kept him away from them.

During his stay, Aemond kept his promise to you, teaching you what he could of High Valyrian when you had the chance. It was a struggle to start, but you picked it up quicker than you had thought you would. 

He would praise you for your pronunciation, which only led you to want to do better for him, his words of affirmation doing something to your heart and body, which resulted in you mumbling words and phrases beneath your breath every chance you had to perfect them. 

You also learnt that he had an older sister, estranged, not talked about and something that was clearly a taboo for the sailor, but when he did mention her, it was to note that her High Valyrian was more advanced as their father had spent ample time teaching her, but not his four other children.

Aemond was, for the most part, self taught, besides the help of a lone tutor which Aemond noted was poorly. 

Each time he shared a piece of himself to you, your heart longed to go with him, to see the famed Keep where his family resided. To meet his mother Alicent who was such an important person in his life, as well as his sister Helaena. You wished to meet Aegon, to see if he truly was as bumbling as Aemond had told you. 

You wished to see the foods they had, imported from foreign lands you couldn’t pronounce, to walk the Gardens of the Keep, to see the ashen barked Weirwood tree in his Godswood, to try a starfruit, which Aemond had a craving for almost every second day, the shape and flavour a wonder to you. 

You wished to be a part of his life, a part of his family, and a tiny, foolish part of you thought that perhaps you could. But the more rational side knew that it could not be, that you were of low rank, and you could not leave the lighthouse unmanned, and as each day passed with this heavy revelation, came the looming of a dark cloud above you.

-

The fresh scones you had made were still soft and fresh, Celia’s jam spread thickly on top as a treat for the both of you that morning. The cottage was cold, but the heat of the fire radiated warmth around the two of you, a subtle wind whistling past the windows outside. 

Despite the bright mood the two of you had, started by Aemond waking you up between your thighs, that cloud still loomed over the top of you, dread and anticipation of what was to come nipping at you like a hound.

“Celia makes great jam. I should like to thank her one day.” Aemond hummed, popping a small broken piece of scone into his mouth to chew, licking the jam off the pad of his thumb after he swallowed.

You nodded, smiling, though it didn’t reach your eyes, “You should thank her yourself in person. I am sure she would like to meet a real Targaryen.”

His eye searched your face, “One day.”

“But when?” You swallowed, preparing your speech which you had practiced over and over in a loop in your head, finding some way that would make him want to stay, to make him want you.

The silver haired man frowned, placing the rest of his scone on his plate as he sat himself straighter, “When?”

“Yes. When.” The lump in your throat grew larger with each passing second, “You have a family, duties, a life. Your mother must be beside herself with worry and grief, and I fear that I am taking you from that. I fear I am creating pain for you all.”

“Taking me?” Aemond sounded confused, eye swiftly searching your face as you straightened in your chair.

“I do not wish to…force you to stay here, or corrupt you into thinking I could be anything other than this.” You watched as his frown deepened, lips pulling into a thin line, “I cannot keep you here as much as I wish to.”

His frown softened, “You wish for me to stay?”

“Kessa.” (Yes) You said quietly, “But I know it is not the reality we live in. You are a Lord, I am-“

“-Why do you always bring up my rank?”

“Because it means something. If your family found out that you have been here, with someone like me, the talk alone could ruin your potential list of decent wives. Your future. I fear I have already tainted-“

“-Tainted?”

“Yes, I-“

“-Why do you believe yourself to ever be capable of tainting me?” Aemond’s voice was stern, colder than before, as though angry at your words. You looked down at the table shyly, focusing on the scone smeared with jam.

“You do not think you could stay here forever, do you?”

Aemond huffed air through his nose, “I can do whatever I like. Go where I please, see who I wish. For now, my family believes me to be dead, and even if I was known to be hale and healthy, I can still do as I please.”

“But your mother-“

“-My mother,” Aemond began, voice softening, “Will one day come to understand.”

You shook your head, confusion coursing through you, “I don’t understand.”

Aemond’s jaw tensed, teeth pressing sharply against each other before he adjusted himself to sit even more impossibly straighter, “Do you believe in the Gods?”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Of course. I would not have prayed to them if I did not.”

“Then you must believe the Gods control our paths and fate.”

Paths and fate?

What was he talking about?

“Yes, I believe so. But I don’t understand what the Gods have to do with you needing to go home.”

Aemond took a deep breath through his nose, his hand on the table as fingers flexed and then curled back into a fist, dropping into his lap out of sight, “My ship sunk for a reason. I do not believe that it happened without purpose. I drowned and came back for a reason. You prayed to the Gods to save me, and they did.” His tongue peeked out of his lips to wet them, and your heart began to race in your chest, “The Gods gave me a second chance at life and brought me straight to you.” He shook his head, silver locks falling over his shoulders, “Before you, I was unhappy, but with you? I have never been so content. So… at peace.”

Tears prickled at your eyes, your own hands twisting in your lap, “Please do not say such things to me, Sir. My heart cannot bear it.”

Aemond leant forward, “But it is the truth. And mine own heart cannot bear the thought of leaving here. Of leaving you.”

A tear fell from your eye, sliding wetly down your cheek as you looked at him, his figure blurred in your vision, “You cannot want me.”

“I can. And I do.”

A sob fell from your lips as you looked at him, “This is cruelty, Aemond. You cannot- You can’t- Your family would never allow it. You cannot say these things to me, do not give me false hope. Do not give me reason to believe.”

Aemond's hand lifted on top of the table, palm up, offered to you. 

You looked at his palm, and the soft smooth skin there, and wished to mark it. You wished to mark him so that he could never leave, so that he could never be without you without evidence of you existing.

“False hope would be to say that I could ever leave here with my heart intact.” His hand waited for you on the table, “Please.”

Another tear fell from your cheek, “You cannot want a life like this. You cannot want a life with me. I have no money, I cannot ever leave, I would never trap you here with me.”

“You could never trap me in the first place. I am yours.”

I am yours.

Another sob fell from your lips, chest aching at the thought of losing him, at the thought of him leaving you. That this declaration would be for naught, that he had not truly thought this over, but deep inside of you, you hoped, dreamed, begged the Gods for his words to be true.

Aemond’s hand slid off the table and back into his lap as he stared at you, silence creeping across the table.

“I am just as much yours. Irrevocably.” You breathed, watching as relief flooded Aemond’s face, “But I cannot ask this of you. Not when you lose so much if you do.”

Aemond stood from his seat, swiftly coming towards you where he knelt in front of you, forcefully taking your hand in his as he looked up into your tear filled eyes. His thumb brushed over your knuckles soothingly, his other hand briefly coming to swipe a tear from your cheek before meeting the other that held yours.

“You are not asking me to do anything, byka perzys.” His words came swiftly, eye searching your face as tear after tear fell down your cheeks, “And if you were, I would do it. A thousands times over, I would do it. If you asked me to walk back into the sea, I would do it. For you, I would do it.”

“Aemond,” You shook your head sadly, mouth opening again to argue, but he interrupted you.

“-I want to stay.” His hands gripped yours tighter, “Here. With you. I want to be with you. Always.” He swallowed thickly, “If you’ll have me.”

Your blood thumped loudly in your ears as you looked at him. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t speak, mind going a thousand miles an hour. 

He wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay here.

With you.

“Please do not turn me away. The fate of the seas would be kinder.” His voice cracked, and your heart ached.

There was no turning back, no moving from this conversation without an outcome. 

It all just depended on which path you wished to go. Which path your heart ached for most, and that was for him to stay. But would it come without consequences? Would his decision to stay be a mistake he would come to resent you for? 

You had nothing to lose, he had everything to.

But the way he was looking at you, the way he was patiently and nervously awaiting your answer, watching as tears continued to fall from your eyes, not just out of grief, but sheer overwhelming love for the man knelt before you, offering all that he was, sacrificing all that he had, and for you.

A small smile cracked on your lips, and you watched as his eye became hopeful. Your hand lifted to his cheek, caressing it softly to cup his jaw as you looked him over; his lilac eye, the sharp aquiline of his nose, the way his plump lips pulled sharply at its peaks. Never in your dreams could you have imagined such a man, and never in your life did you think to imagine that a man such as him could be yours.

And it was in that moment that you made your decision.

You smiled, small sobbing laugh escaping your lips as you rubbed a thumb against his skin, feeling the smooth stubble beneath it, “The Gods brought you to me.” You whispered, eyes searching his face for any sign of regret or trepidation, and when you found none, you continued, “Who am I to turn you away?”

And there it was, that full smile that you had grown to love. 

Aemond’s lips pulled widely revealing his teeth as he beamed up at you. 

Never had you felt such joy, such elation inside of you at the sight, your heart feeling as though it became full, a fire settling into your chest raging as it always did with him, for he always made it feel as though he set you alight.

“Avy jorrāelan.” Aemond declared softly with a smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners, lilac dancing with admiration, the unseeing eye reflecting the light of the sun outside like a cloudy morning sky. 

He sat up on his knees and leant forward, face coming towards you before his eye shut, and his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. Your hands grabbed his face, and he did yours, diving his fingers into your hair, holding you to him gently as he slowly sought your lips with his own. 

It was not rushed, it was not frantic, but patient, the both of you knowing that you were no longer running on limited time. No longer stealing moments together before the end.

No longer was there a looming departure of his presence in your life, and as though a breeze from outside swept inside the house, the dark looming cloud that had situated itself above you cleared.

When finally did you part, breathless and giddy, a curiosity took over.

“What does that mean?” You questioned, burning desire to know eating away at you, “What you said?”

And there was that smile once more, and you knew in your heart what it meant after that.

“You will know soon enough.”

Translations:

Sīr lōz - So wet

Syt ao? Mirros - For you? Anything

Iksā sīr vok syt nyke - You are so perfect for me

Nyke jorrāelagon ao. I need you

Gaomā daor gīmigon ziry, Yn iksi vēttan naejot sagon - You do not know it, but we are made to be.

Sīr ȳrda - So tight

Avy jorrāelan - I love you

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@blackswxnn @marihoneywk @targaryenrealnessdarling @namelesslosers @aemondsfavouritebastard @dahlias-and-marigolds @aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @jemmaagentofshield @malfoytargaryen @bellaisasleep @aaprilshowers @assortedseaglass @elizarbell @xpersephonex @lijeno @likeanecho344 @coffeeobsessedtrencher @diannnnsss @lexwolfhale @notasockpuppetaccount @at-a-rax-ia @spinachtz@marysucks-blog @generalkenobitrash @zenka69 @shygardengalaxy-blog @kittendoll05 @300nightmare003

[gingerteawrites]

Undeserving - Where the shadow of the past looms over Diluc’s present

A/N: I'm baaaaaack. This one has been in the works for a minute, and has taken on many different forms, but here I grace you with a work about my OG Genshin husband. Please enjoy and let me know what you think! Not beta read

Content: ANGSTTTT, Husband Diluc, relationship troubles.

Word count: 1.5K

Diluc Ragvindr had convinced himself that the last thing he wanted on this earth was to start a family. The tale of his own being torn apart would never not be a sore wound, one that incessantly throbbed, one that he believed would never heal.

The idea of being ripped away from any sort of attachment was repulsive, as was the possibility of growing estranged from loved ones. Familial bonds were simply too sensitive of a topic. Too painful of an ache.

You on the other hand, had always dreamed of the wonders of marriage. Of a sacred contract of love and care. And after years of timid courting, Diluc did what he thought would never be possible. He gave into the new, selfish desires of your company. Of an attachment to you. Of what he could be WITH you.

Diluc got married to you, the love of his life. Something he felt was simultaneously the best and worse thing he could ever have done. It did not take too long for him to become consumed with dread of history repeating himself. The potential of all the failings of this new attachment loomed over him like shadows of the abyss.

While you enjoyed the newly-wed bliss, the joy of finally being united with your love. Your husband spiraled into more and more agitated thoughts. Yes, this union was something he had wanted. So badly it kept him awake at night. He had wanted to have you for himself. And him for you. But everything he kept inside him created a dangerous brew of dark thoughts that now made him restless.

He tried to hide this all from you. Oh how ashamed he felt. Staying at Angel’s share a little longer than usual, leaving the house before you woke up for sparring exercises, coming up with things to do when you tried to bring him lunch as a surprise.

It all came as a shock to your system. You had always known that Diluc was not openly affectionate, but he had never truly avoided you. Your romance was one of timid touches and whispered sweet words, of acts of service and long evening walks, but never of hiding and silence. It drove you mad.

You tried to be the bigger person and give him space. Afterall, you knew — if only partly— of his family’s woes and him not being used to have someone so close. But after weeks of this game of hide and seek, you had had enough.

One Friday night, with your own spiralling thoughts, you ordered all the house servants to take the weekend off, and waited for Diluc, resolve hard as steel to get through this issue.

When he silently cracked the door open, he jumped at the sight of you, gaze fixed on him with your arms crossed, a single candle on the nightstand illuminating your face.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly, closing the door before he started to take off his coat.

“Hey,” you responded, lips pursed as you watched him. These were the first words you had exchanged all week.

He almsot felt small under your gaze, taking off his outer garments and gloves which he set on his dresser and turned to face you with a sigh.

“I’m sorry I’ve been quite busy recently,” he tried to appease you, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I am exhausted, shall we sleep?”

Your brows furrowed in exasperation, and you unfolded your arms.

“Not so fast Diluc.” He froze at your tone, sharp, cutting through the dry air. “Is that truly all you wish to say?” You asked, feeling yourself growing shaky with all the contained emotions. Confusion. Anger. Fear.

“What…” he turned fully towards you “What do you mean?” he asked hesitantly.

You took in a shaky breath, closing your eyes to calm your nerves. When you reopened them, you noticed your husband’s slightly hunched position, his bangs falling over his eyes. That hair that always reminded you of a warm hearth. Something to grow fond of, now looked dull in the pale candelight. And the sight made your heart ache.

“Diluc please don’t play dumb with me. What is going on?” You ask, leaning towards him “You’re avoiding me.” The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth and your lip curls in distaste.

“Did I do something wrong?” You add after a pause, the sadness breaking through your tone.

“No, no, no, it’s nothing you have done.” He jumps in, guilt gripping at him hearing your pain. It was much easier to rationalize his behavior when all he saw was your sleeping form when he left in the mornings and came back late at night. But now faced with you awake, his chest felt unbelievably tight.

“Then what is it?” You ask, steadying your voice once again.

Diluc sighed, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him. He then raises his head so his eyes can meet yours, the curtains of his hair falling away from his face, and you see the conflict in his eyes. The pain of something he is keeping locked away in his being.

“Please talk to me.” You whisper, covering his hand with yours.

“I…” he pauses, feeling ashamed of his thoughts. How could he even justify his actions to you. “Maybe… maybe us getting married was a mistake.”

The words pierce through you like a blade, and your entire body stiffens, mouth agape, eyes open wide. You feared your ears betrayed you. “What did you say?” you hear yourself ask.

His hand reached for yours, and you jerked away before he could reach you. His lips opened and closed multiple times, like he was trying to find words.

Recovering from the initial shock of his words, and all you felt was an overwhelming sense of anger bubble out of you. “Is there someone else?” You asked through gritted teeth. The possibility would absolutely obliterate you, but you had to know.

“No, I could never.” He rushed to say again. ”Then what is this about, Diluc!?” You almost yelled, chest heaving. You did not recognize the man standing before you.

“I…” he stammered again, brows downturned, biting his lower lip. “You just deserve someone better.” He spat out, his entire body tense. “You’re just too good for me. And I am sorry it took me until now to realize it. No.” He stopped himself. “I knew all along, but I was selfish.” He shook his head. “I just can’t make this work.” He sucked in a deep breath, his voice growing meek.

Your hands fall against the mattress, fully taking in his words. Words that did nothing to quell your anger, only adding more fuel to it.

“And who made that call?” You ask, loud voice resonating through the room. He looked up at you with wide eyes. “Who decided that huh?” You leaned towards him. “Not me.” You concluded bitterly.

“But.” He says, eyes locked with yours.

“But nothing, Diluc.” You punctuated, voice firm again. “I think you are deserving of me.” You point to yourself. “I love you Diluc. Do you not?”

“Of course I do.” He adds, closing the distance between you two, his fingers finding yours again. “I just don’t want this to end badly. I don’t want us to end badly.” He confesses.

“But don’t you think we’re worth the risk?” You ask, searching his eyes. “Don’t you think that our love is worth trying?” You emphasize.

He looks down at your linked fingers before his gaze returns to you. “I am a weak man. Weaker than I look, certainly. I’m scared of losing you.”

“So you decide to push me away?” You ask in disbelief, to which he stays silent. “Then I refuse to go. We are going to make this work, whether you believe you are strong enough for it or not.” You conclude.

Diluc looks at you, your eyes shining with determination and unshed tears. A testament to your own strenght. An announcement of his own weakness. How could he be Mondstat’s defender, working to uphold the foundation of his city if he could not work for you. The realization sunk into his stomach with a nauseating weight. He was chosing the easy way out. He was hurting you and himself because of fear.

“I am sorry.” He chokes out, pulling you into him, engulfing you in his warmth for a hug. “I really am not deserving of you.” He adds, his voice trembling as he buried his head into your neck.

“Just promise.” You wrap your arms around him “Promise you’ll try.”

He pulls away from you, his hands moving up to hold your cheeks, his eyes burning with new certainty, new determination. “I swear to you.” His thumbs move in circles against your skin, wiping away your tears that have started to fall. “I promise. I stake my life on this. On us.” And he brings his lips to yours to seal this commitment. The past was dark and seemed all-engulfing, but he would not let it overshadow this present with you.

Comment and reblogs are much appreciated :))

[solitary-traveler]

A Wanderer's Prayer

It was like staring at a mirror and confronting a version of himself that he detested with every fiber of his being. In other words, he sees his past in you and wishes he could help.

Wanderer x Gn!Reader

Notes: Hiii, so this is inspired by a video I saw on tiktok by @dellabelle99. It had me sobbing for like 5 minutes. I swear I want to give him a hug so badly-

Art: @Coco_nikio (X)

Warning: Angst? (again yes), let's use all collectively give him a hug

Blue.

The sky was dark blue.

Settled on the ground, the tall patch of grass served as a mattress for the tired Wanderer. The days filled with deafening noises and taxing chores blur into a hazy memory, whisked away by the remaining orange glows of sunlight. He rests his eyes as the veil of silence nestles against him once more. Nightfall never failed to seclude him from everything inconvenient, in the best way possible. 

When he opened his eyes, the flickering gleam streamed onto his face, as a faint evocation pulsated through his thoughts. 

“The moon is beautiful isn't it?”

He recalled your words from a previous night, a night that continuously haunts him. The moon had cast a soft glimmer on your face, uplifting your features and framing that cheeky grin you have plastered on your annoying face. It was almost ridiculous how all he could do was stare and swallow the lump of words he’d been itching to say. In spite of the whirling chaos in his chest, he could only mutter a soft “I know”. 

“Just like you.”

He sighed, shaking his head. Nothing good comes out of reminiscing about that event. Just thinking about it made his cheeks flush. An utterly, absurd reaction. Maybe there’s a malfunction somewhere in his system?

A green pulse of light darted across his vision, eyes widening as his attention snapped to it. Much to his surprise, a dendro crystafly perched on his indigo hair. He raises a hand to wave it away, but your saccharine voice tugged on his wrists like a pair of handcuffs.

“I feel like my skin is on fire”

Wanderer paused. He caught a glimpse of the glowing rock above him for the second time, adorned by a tiny flitter of lights that washed the area with a green flicker, before a set of images burned across his mind. 

A crystafly had landed on you before too. The luster reflection of the moon strikes your face with such delicacy—the fluttering wings akin to a blooming flower tucked behind your ear—yet your features showed disagreement. The glint illuminated a new set of marks on your pale skin and the heavy bags under your pretty eyes. You looked pathetic.

“I wish I’d never been born at all”

He dislikes how his stomach lurched at your words. It was like staring at a mirror and confronting a version of himself that he detested with every fiber of his being. The tightness of his chest loitered, an impending reminder of the past etched in stone, unperturbed for all eternity.

He longed to smash that visage and pummel it until even ashes were forced out of existence. He wanted to break you, the shadow who’s lagging behind him and striding down his path. To impale every shred of innocence you have left back to your pounding heart.

But how could he offer you any assistance when he could not liberate his own from the repulsive tethers that bite onto his skin and refuse to let go?

A frustrated yelp escaped from his  throat. It was fucking annoying. The reality of his helplessness was slowly sinking in. Was that it? Was there nothing else he could do?

Drenched in desperation, Wanderer exhales to still till his raging thoughts. “To any god that can hear me,” he whispered, his gaze falling on the blatant light that blinked from the black canvas above. “Please offer them your protection.”

His eyes closed. What was he even doing? Praying to the gods as if they’ll fulfill such a foolish request?

“I can’t always spend every waking hour by their side. I can’t always save them if they need help” 

He saw himself dressed in a white kimono, running around the sandy beaches of Yashiori Island. He sees Niwa trailing behind him, out of breath as he catches up with the eccentric wanderer, holding a purple veil in hand. 

He was following him again.

“No matter what happens…”

“May they never lose,” his voice cracked. “May they never falter”

At that moment, his chest blazed with a crushing weight. Why did these words hurt so much?

“No matter how many times they cry.”

“You promised me we could be family!”

“No matter how many times they fall.”

“No! Anything but the gnosis!”

“May they have the strength to stand again.”

So that’s how it is. 

“May all the people he meets be kind and warm.”

“If all I wanted to do was use you, then I’d be no different from The Doctor.”

“I hear he has some pretty interesting ideas… Gotta have a chat with him sometime!” 

“Please protect them.”

He blinked. He gets it now. His prayer mirrored the words he’d been dying to hear. 

A prayer from one broken person to another.

[just-marauders-fics-i-think]

29. Lonely / October 29 / 689 words / @rosekillermicrofic

“Barty. Barty. Barty.” Evan murmured that name as if it were the most beautiful in the world. It dripped from his mouth like honey, like a promise.

Oh, how he wished to hold his best friend’s hands in his own, and press them to his mouth. But that would never happen. After all, Barty was straight. He was dating a pretty girl, and they looked cute together. She tamed him. She dared tame Barty.

Evan wanted to throw up. Tame? Barty? The only one who’d ever matched his freak? The thought repulsed him.

Yet it was true. Barty was unnervingly calm now. He practically never got in trouble anymore, and… Evan couldn’t keep doing this.

Because why did Barty look straight at him whenever he kissed her, grinning? Did he enjoy seeing Evan die inside? Was it a coincidence?

And now, Barty was probably kissing her. She was probably in his arms. He was probably whispering in her ear just how much he liked her.

If only Evan was a girl… Then, just maybe, Barty would look at him differently.

Oh, how he wished for his hands to be on his friend’s waist. Oh, how he wished for Barty to be his.

But he wasn’t. And he would never be.

And now, Evan was lying on his bed, cold, all alone, wishing to belong to someone who’d never like him.

So cold. But no amount of blankets could ever warm him, at this point. He’d always been a cold person, but now, it was freezing. His heart ached.

Suddenly, the door opened.

“Hey, Evvie! How are you do- SHIT ARE YOU CRYING?”

Evan quickly dried his tears, but it was too late.

“Who did this to you?” There was venom in Barty’s voice. If he hadn’t known better, Evan might’ve believed that his friend cared.

“It’s fine.” Evan was mixed between rage and grief. How odd, for someone who felt so little when it came to people. How could Barty play with his feelings? Would he ever know just how much it hurt him?

“No it isn’t. You never cry.” That was false. Evan had been crying himself to sleep for five months now, the same amount of time that Barty’d been dating that girl. But how could he know? First of all, they didn’t share a dorm, and second of all, Evan never made any noise when crying.

“Please. Tell me who did this. They will pay.” Evan wished Barty hadn’t said that, that he’d never say anything like that anymore. It gave him hope, and it was that hope that destroyed him.

“It’s you.” Well shit. He’d said it.

Barty’s look of confusion felt like a stab in his chest.

“What do you mean? What did I do?”

Evan couldn’t take this anymore.

“Merlin, Barty, aren’t you supposed to be the brightest wizard in our year? How can you be such an idiot?”

“Wait… is this about her?”

Evan nodded. He hated this. He wanted to be as far away from here as possible. Because he knew that he’d end up slipping and telling everything to Barty.

“Holy shit. It worked.”

Evan’s vision went red. “It worked”? Was this all on purpose? Was Barty doing his best to hurt him?

“Explain yourself, Crouch.” Evan was dead serious, now. More than he’d ever been. This moment, right here, in his room, when there was no one else but them, this moment would change their relationship. Now whether it was enemies or something else that they’d become, Evan had no idea.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for three years, and making you jealous is only the most recent way I’ve been doing that. Happy now?”

Evan was speechless. So it was all on purpose. The pain. The suffering. But… Barty liked him? Him?

“You’re horrible.” Grabbing Barty’s collar, he pulled him closer and kissed him.

Shit. Shit. Shit. This was the most amazing thing that Evan had ever experienced. His head felt so light, and his body was on fire. Softness and desire overwhelmed him. He wanted to devour Barty. To make him his.

“Barty. Barty. Barty.”

[crrepiest]

Yandere! Teacher x Reader

♡Yan!Teacher x GN Reader♡

Pt 2

Tw: age-gap, slight nsfw, pervy behavior, stalking, obsessive behavior

Make sure to check out Pt 1!

I gaze out onto the school courtyard from my classroom window as students scramble to get to their next class period. Red and orange leaves fall silently to the ground and collect in piles amongst the feet of the students. Some of them in a hurry while others take their time. You, being one of the punctual students.

At this point, it was routine.

Watching you as you hurry past the rest of the student body to get to your 4th period class early. My class. I like to think its because you're so eager to see me. As eager as I am to see you.

I sit in my chair, arms crossed, keeping a watchful eye until you were completely out of sight. I relax my shoulders and let them fall as a sigh escapes my lips.

I never feel at ease anymore. Time slows, minutes turn into hours until I was in your presence. Until I could smell your perfume/ cologne when you swept past my desk to take a seat. Just so I could hear your sweet voice say my name when you greeted me "Good morning Mr. Roth".

You were always so sweet to me. Showing up to my class early, asking if I need help around the classroom, always turning in your homework on time if not way before the due date. Always such a good little student, almost as if you're trying to impress me. Sometimes I cant tell if this is real or not.

Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months and my thoughts turn ever increasingly centric of you

I find myself over thinking. Anxiety filled thoughts that leave me tossing and turning in my big empty bed, only to wish you were there with me, to sooth me.

What if you didn't reciprocate my feelings? How would you react when I inevitably opened my heart to you. Would you be repulsed by me? These thoughts fill my head, stretching the nights thin.

On especially bad nights, I've gotten into a habit of taking sleep medication. No method of self soothing could ease my mind.

Which led me here, too much sleep in my system from popping a pill at 6:30 pm since I couldn't rid the burning image of your face from my mind.

As I was lost in thought staring at my desk, light foot steps sounded from the hallway, headed toward my room. My eyes snap to the door in hopes that is was you.

You enter the class room with a smile already plastered on your face. My heart starts to beat faster at the sight. I send you a quick smile back as you begin to greet me.

"Hi Mr. Roth! How has your morning been so far?"

God. If only you knew.

If it were even possible, my cheeks start to burn harder as I listen to my name slide out of your mouth so elegantly.

"My morning just got better Mx (y/ I/n)." I smirk at you.

"Oh stop it" you giggled as you walked to your desk to take a seat.

And just like that, all the worry washed away from my body.

"How was your night last night (y/n)" I try to keep the conversation flowing for as long as I could.

I tried to pay attention to you. I really did. Every word that poured out of your mouth was like a symphony. It's just as my gaze wondered from your eyes, down to you moving lips, i couldn't help myself.

I couldn't help but imagine how those delicate lips would feel around me. How those innocent eyes would look as they were all glossed over with tears as a pout sat perfectly on your face. All for me to ruin.

I nodded my head and let out affirmative words to not raise anysuspicions from you that I wasn't paying full attention.

I was pulled from my thoughts as I heard chatter amongst students in my classroom. I sucked in a sharp breath and hesitantly removed my eyes from you. Sometimes when I'm with you, it feels as if the the whole world fades away. As if I'm not stuck in my career as an English teacher, having to teach a class full of students who I couldn't care less about.

I wish it were just the two of us. A fantasy that I catch myself day dreaming about frequently. To have you secluded from society and the only source of outside information being me. To have you completely dependent on me. I wouldn't have to deal with sharing you with other people, or get distracted from you.

The dismissal bell rang and everyone rose from their seats and made their way to the door. You gathered your notebooks and pencil and shoved them into your backpack.

You and I made eye contact. It was only brief but it felt like a life time to me. Naturally, I was already staring at you to begin with. You seemed to notice this.

"See you tomorrow Mx. (Y/I/n)" | said softly.

You gave a beaming smile that I swear made my heart skip a few beats.

I never let my eyes leave your form until you were out of view. I propped my head up with my hand on my desk and breathed out raspy a sigh. I stared at my computer as my mind raced with the thought of you.

Then a horrible thought came to mind.

I hurriedly opened my browser and clicked open a new tab. A smirk started to tug at my lips as I navigated through the teacher access center. Why haven't I thought of doing this before?

I typed in your name and found your school profile. Everything I could have ever needed lay right at my fingertips. I smile deviously at the glowing screen of the laptop. I pull out a sticky note and a pen and jotted down the information I needed.

The day dragged on for what seemed like ages. Then, the final bell rang. I gathered my things and headed out to my car, eager to get home to set my plan in motion.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The car engine quiets down as the car comes to a complete stop.

I turned the key in the ignition to shut off the humming engine. The lights in the vehicle start to fade out as I'm left in the dark, alone with my thoughts.

Anxiety and excitement ran rampant through my veins. My fists curled tightly around the steering wheel as I took a deep breath. I can't believe I was actually going through with this.

I quietly closed the car door as I stepped out. The cold air snipped at my face, making me wince. I shoved my hands into my jacket pocket as I made my way to looming house in front of me.

AHHH thank you all so much for all the love on my first post it means a lot!!

Also, face claim for Mr. Roth: Jeffery Dean Morgan my beloved

Please feel free to give me constructive criticism on my writing so I can further improve in the future :3

[livingsspecter]

𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰

Gregory Violet x GN!Reader; angst drabble: reader founds out about what he and the rest of the P4 did to Derrick

When Violet finally confessed what he had done, fear spread in the depths of my chest. I wondered how it was possible that those delicate hands— that gave life to so many works of art, could violently knock someone out

Even if the victim was repulsive, ominous thoughts plagued my mind... what if I displeased him or challenged what that school implanted in his brain? Would I be next on his list?

And now he sat miserably on the cold floor of my room— glossy eyes turned to the ground, engulfed in shame while he tightly gripped the ends of his cloak. He did not dare to utter a single word after his gory secret was revealed, so I decided to break the silence

“Do I even know who you truly are!?”

My voice was filled with resentment, in a different scenario, I’d rush to wipe away his tears and take him in my arms, and oh, how I wished it were the case. Gregory flinched at the sound of my sharp tone, tears threatened to fall down his pale face

I couldn’t help but feel an ounce of pity for my beloved’s sorrow, even if his lies crushed my spirit— seeing him break was too much to bear, and so I sat down on the floor, facing Violet, who raised his head to finally look at me. His face was flushed red, and black tears— surely meshed with his eyeliner, were running down his face like an unstoppable downpour

“I didn’t want you to leave me…that’s why I-“

Violet tried to finish the sentence but his voice broke in a sob, I immediately understood what he meant— I felt the urge to back down and kiss away those tears… but deep down, I was scared, could I really trust him? My silence weighed heavily on Violet— who usually loved quietness, and before I could even try to answer, he reached out to me in an act of desperation, weeping as if his heart would shatter in a million pieces

“I can’t live without you…please”

Immediately, I stood up in a haste, terrified of what could happen if he came any closer. Violet froze and his eyes widened at the sudden jolt, an invisible barrier was separating us— the room felt much colder than before

“D-Do I frighten you..?”

The truth was right before him, words failed me and all was made clear—the light in my eye has vanished.

[somewhereincairparavel]

"Jason." Piper said, startling him with her awfully serious expression, she looked beautiful, with her choppy hair and iridescent gaze directed at him. But that moment only lasted for a second, before the world collapsed at his feet. "Let's break up"

Piper may as well have just stabbed him at the heart with a blade. The effect would've been exactly the same. Being a Roman, he tried keeping his face as neutral as possible. What if it was a prank or something? But deep down, Jason knew it was wishful thinking. Piper had been acting very repulsive around him, stiffening at his bear hugs, pulling away from his kisses rather quickly with an uncomfortable wry sort of smile. He had mostly been initiating their usual displays of affection. Now that he thought back on it, those were huge alarm bells. He waited for Piper to continue, who was trying to gauge his reaction. He stubbornly appeared as aloof as possible, even though his heart had already shattered.

"I-I'm sorry.. i just.. don't think we both belong together. Our relationship started out fake. And it's obvious we aren't as in love as we thought we were. we simply feel obligated to stay together to appease Hera and Aphrodite" Piper managed to choke out, tears already streaming in her face. A surge of anger filled through Jason as his mind reeled, focusing on the sentences which had fragmented his already shattered heart. "dont belong together" "fake" "aren't in love"

"Stop saying "we" piper." Jason said in a slightly strangled voice. "I AM in love with you and i dont feel obligated to anything. Yeah, our relationship started out "fake" as you put it" Jason spat out the word "fake" with intentional bitterness. He was usually so calm, but no. Even the ever so calm son of Jupiter has his limits. "But don't you remember our fresh start? Our first kiss under the stars after Gaea's defeat? We've been together for a year, with no bumps in our relationship. Did that mean nothing to you at all? You still think we're playing pretend for Hera? Were all those hugs and "i love you's" simply us putting on a show that i wasn't aware of?" Jason's eyes stung as he said this.

Piper looked at him sadly, her tears had dried out and her eyes turned steely cold. he thought she was a little too nonchalant about this. She was his world. His whole universe. And yet, she too, had decided, that the ever so golden Grace, was not good enough anymore. Just like every other fucking person.

"I am sorry. But i don't feel that way about you anymore... It was just Hera's mist playing tricks on me..." Piper said a little callously. That was all she said, before she shouldered her bag, and looked at him one last time, her eyes slightly misty. Jason couldn't and wouldn't understand why this had all gone terribly wrong.

"Well. i guess that's just it then...." Jason whispered brokenly, staring at Piper's figure slowly walking away from him. He dropped to his knees and just sobbed. He felt used, and so fucking crushed. Jason Grace was once again, the unwanted, disposable machine. The unwanted machine that Camp Jupiter had been so eager to have gotten rid of. And now, So had the one whom he loved more than anyone else, the one whom he envisioned having his grandchildren with. He could almost hear Cupid's cold, hollow laughter echo through the corridors, watching his half sister leave the son of Jupiter in shambles, elated at his misery.

The supposedly rebellious daughter of Aphrodite had broken a heart after all.

[honeym00ngirl]

𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙪𝙡𝙩- 𝙆𝙖𝙯 𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙠𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Warnings: mentions of characters’ trauma, language, minor violence and mentions of knives.

(Not really a warning per-say but forced proximity!)

a/n: I wrote this in a hospital waiting room and proof read it on the car ride home. So if it sucks i apologize :)

A mission gone wrong. 

It rarely happened, especially with the dregs. 

On top of everything, it was entirely your fault and you knew Kaz would be pissed. 

You had accompanied Kaz to the home of a man named Ratchet Khline. 

Ratchet was a new face, a scruffy looking man who had been coming into the club recently. Ratchet didn’t win every time but when he did, he won big. 

Kaz was many things and a thief was one of them, but to throw out every other person who got lucky would be bad for business. 

As soon as Kaz was sure Ratchet was a cheat, he sprung into action.

Your job was simple. 

At least it was supposed to be. 

You would be sneaking around the back of Ratchets estate, where you would scale the building and enter the bedroom through the window furthest to the right.

You would then use the combination Kaz gave you to open a safe hidden in the wall behind Ratchets bed frame and take the money he owed. 

Unfortunately you weren’t quick enough, fast enough, or quiet enough. 

You’d been caught by a burley man guarding the back entrance, who threw you into a small cellar buried in the ground behind the estate.

Oh how you wished he’d taken Inej, but for a reason completely unbeknownst to you, Kaz was insistent on having you by his side. 

What felt like hours passed and when the door to glorified ground-closet swung open, a twinge of hope danced through your body. 

That hope was crushed by the weight Kaz Brekker. The weight of his limp body being dumped onto your own. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

Kaz told you it would be in and out. A one and done with little to no chance of failure. 

But here you were, pinned under your boss, trapped in the freezing cold, waiting to die slowly. 

Your thoughts were broken when Kaz began to stir. His consciousness was regaining little by little and you couldn’t help but fear his pending reaction.

His eyes fluttered open then shot wide.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You whispered, trying wiggle as close to the ground and as far away from Kaz’s trembling frame as you possibly could, which unfortunately for Kaz was not very far.

You scold yourself silently, knowing your constant movements didn’t help.

Kaz, now fully conscious, was practically recoiling at the feeling of your body beneath him.

His breathe was heavy and his back was pressed hard against the door.

You’ve never seen him like this, and frankly it was quite frightening.

You knew you weren’t getting any further away, but still you continued to squirm against the ground. “I’m so sorry-“ 

“Enough!” Kaz shouted.

His voice sounded frogged, as if he were speaking through a gag. 

“I need you-“ he paused, swallowing thickly. 

“I need you to take the pick out of my left pocket.” 

“A-are you sure.” You stuttered, hesitant to reach toward him.

“Yes!” He says, his patients beginning to unravel. “Once you get the pick, I’m going to turn over so I can face the door. I can’t get us out with an arm pinned behind my back.” You were almost surprised you couldn’t hear the sound of his teeth gritting as he spoke.

When you take the pick from his pocket, Kaz is practically heaving above you. 

His hands shake as he takes the pick. 

He struggles to turn over and you could almost see the repulse in eyes when his nose brushed over you own. 

Of course you tried not to take offense to this. You knew Kaz and you knew his past. It was nothing personal.

His hands continued to shake as he picked the lock, you didn’t understand how he could see with pupils so dilated.

When the lock gave a click and the door swung open, Kaz practically leaped from the hole, gasping on his way out. 

By the time you pulled yourself from the cellar, Kaz was doubled over in front of the burley man who now laid unconscious at his feet. 

Kaz was shaking horribly and looked to be on the verge of vomiting. 

You felt horrible. 

You felt horrible that you got caught, but you felt even more horrible knowing that had you not, Kaz probably wouldn’t have been put into such a comprising situation. 

-

The days following were tense and the guilt was eating you alive. You barley saw Kaz and when you did, he ignored you.

Again, you tried not to take offense to this.

You hated that a situation which could have been so easily avoided had left such an impact on him. 

You’re standing on one of the docks. You needed some time to yourself. Time away from the club.

You like to come and look out over the sea. It calms your nerves and gives you the time and space to think.

The sound of the waves was almost hypnotic. It felt far to calm for a place like Ketterdam.

You wrap your coat tightly around you to protect yourself from the cold wind. It’s dark outside, and most of Ketterdam’s residents retired to the comfort of their warm homes.

“It’s not your fault, Y/n.” Inej says appearing beside you. You jumped slightly, clutching a hand over your heart. 

“Saints, your going to give someone a heart attack one day.” You say, shaking your head as Inej tilts her own.

“What are talking about anyways, what’s not my fault?” You ask and she gives you a almost sympathetic look.

No, that’s impossible. You hadn’t told anyone what happened except for- dammit Nina. 

“You know?” You ask, dropping your head and starring at your shoes.

“Y/n,” Inej smiled sadly. “He’s not mad at you.”

Your eyes squint at moons reflection in the harbor. “We’ll never know for sure until he stops avoiding me.” 

“I think you’ve done fairly well avoiding each other.” Inej says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Talk to him. You know as well as I that outside of business and combat, Kaz doesn’t fair well making the first move.”

Inej was right. You’d been so caught up Kaz’s actions toward you, that you didn’t even realize you’d made no effort to approach him yourself. 

You turn back to Inej to thank her for her advice, but she was already gone. 

The sky is pitch black and the wind is getting colder, so you decide to head back to the Slat. 

You liked staying on the docks, but it wasn’t wise to stray from the Slat to long. 

Not on the streets of Ketterdam, especially after dark.

You took one last look at the sea, then turn to start walking back to the Slat. 

Your hand is on your dagger as you walk, eyes open and ears focused on every sound you hear. You had been jumped before, and you knew better then to believe the first time would be the last. 

You keep your head down as you’re walking, but then you notice a figure in the distance. 

You slow down and take another look at the person ahead of you. The closer you get, the more familiar they seem.

But that cane, that cane was unmistakable.

Kaz stops dead in his takes.

“What are you doing here?” He says as soon as he notices it’s you. “It’s not safe here.” He grumbles, his eyes looking everywhere aside from your own.

“Of course it’s not safe.” you say.

“It’s not safe for you.” Kaz says, limping forward. 

“I’m far from incompetent, Brekker.” You say, frowning.

Kaz doesn’t respond to you, instead he continues walking.

He stops abruptly, turning half-way as he nods at you to follow. 

The walk back to the slat was deathly silent. Not a word one was spoken between either of you.

Once you reach the slat, you notice Kaz begin to shift. He never gets this fidgety. 

Pushing away these thoughts, you grab your key and reach for the door.

“Y/n.” Kaz catches your wrist with his cane before your hand reaches the nob. His voice is softer than usual, which catches you off guard.

“I don’t blame you. . . for what happened at Khlines.” He says, still avoiding your gaze. 

You froze.

You didn’t understand his graciousness toward you, if it had been any other dreg, except for maybe Inej, they’d have been dead or jobless. “You should.”

Kaz’s head cocked upward and he looked you in the eyes for the first time since the incident. He stared for a moment before he spoke. There was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. 

“I don’t.”

In that moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Surely Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, Dirty Hands himself wasn’t going soft for. . . you.

Something was hanging in the air. That much was undeniable. It was like something was unspoken. Whatever it was, you didn’t think it needed to be said. 

Not yet at least. 

It hung like the hazy clouds which littered Ketterdams skyline.

You push open the door to the slat and allow Kaz to step in, in-front of you. 

“Y/n.” Kaz called from over his shoulder.  For the second time this evening, Kaz said something that made you freeze in place. This time it was only your name. You’d never heard it sound so gentle. Especially not from Kaz, and something wicked inside of you longed to hear it again.

“Yes.” You respond, voice barley above a whisper.

“I better not find out you told Nina about this.” He says voice low like a warning; faltering from the gentleness it’d had before. Even then, you couldn’t help but notice the slightest hint of a smile in his tone.

Requests are open, thank you for reading! 

[yanderes-galore]

I absolutely love ratchet so may I request yandere ratchet with a human prompt 53

I love Ratchet too :) I'd love to give you a small story about him and a human! I assumed you meant my prompts.

You gave no specific Ratchet so I just did his Prime appearance.

Note: I've been doing a lot of late night writing so I apologize if this is unorganized. This is essentially me being half asleep and indulging in my favorite character. It's content purely from the heart I guess, lol. I tried to keep up the plot so I hope it came out... coherent :)

Yandere! TFP! Ratchet Prompt 53

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Paranoia, Overprotective behavior, Cybertronian/Human pair, Manipulation, Implied kidnapping, Dubious relationship, Deception.

Ratchet didn't used to like humans at first. He was already having to deal with three kids causing trouble in the base. When he met you, a young adult human, he wasn't sure what to think.

Turns out... you were tolerable. You genuinely wished to help out and keep the kids in line. Although even they seemed to be a handful for you.

Ratchet was still a bot who was hard to get along with at first due to his stubborn behavior. Despite this... Ratchet had begun to soften towards you over time. He began not to dislike humans all that much with time.

Honestly, it was you and the kids who helped him change his outlook.

When it came to you and Ratchet, you two could be considered partners. While Bulkhead had Miko, Bumblebee had Raf, and Arcee had Jack... Ratchet had you. Ratchet didn't think he'd ever have a human companion, he didn't even think he'd be attached...

Then he found you.

Ratchet had grown close to you because you provided companionship for him at the base. While the others were on a mission and he was meant to prepare Ground Bridges, you sat by his desk. You didn't talk unless he talked first when you were still getting to know each other.

Yet, soon Ratchet began looking forward to hearing your voice and seeing your small organic form. You just... provided him a sense of comfort. Your presence only ever proved useful when Ratchet began to stress himself out over the others.

A comment that was often tossed around was you being his emotional support. When Optimus wasn't around, Ratchet had you. You could say Ratchet cared for you at the very least.

Your companionship was different from the others. While when it came to the kids their respective Autobots acted like guardians... you and Ratchet were different. Your connection was beyond that of a guardian.

Sure, Ratchet was always protective, but it seemed like it was for different reasons. You never really knew how deep his attachment to you went yet it always felt different. You always seemed to ease him when you were around.

It wasn't hard to theorize what Ratchet really felt towards you. His softness around you felt intimate despite the differences between your species. It's some form of love, even if Ratchet never admits it.

This explanation felt the most plausible. It explained why Ratchet felt a yearning to connect with you more. Although such a feat only managed to frustrate him at times...

Your biological/biomechanical differences make it hard for him to display affection. He can only ever do small things. He can hold you, take you on drives, call you, talk to you, and he loves it but...

Intimacy, the thing he craves, is what upsets him at times when he looks at you.

Normally the thought might have repulsed him. The thought of hugging you or showing affection in the more romantic sense towards a human should be seen as foreign. Yet he wants it with you.

Such feelings are what's made Ratchet become more attached to you than a guardian. Based on how you act so positively around him, even when he picks you up... part of him hopes you feel the same. Surely... you won't mind being in a relationship with an old Cybertronian like him, would you?

He promises to himself he'll find a way to make an avatar to communicate with you with in the future.

The issue is, these feelings can also be seen as a weakness. Ratchet often grows distressed when you are away from him for too long. Yes, humans have their own lives to attend to...

He just wishes you'd spend more of your time at the base?

Ratchet didn't often talk about his problems, yet with you he felt it was important to voice his concerns. As a result you had given him a way to contact you when you're in your home. A phone number... one he often contacted.

He really didn't need the childish teasing, Primus he could hear it now. 'Ratchet's got a crush on a human'. He rolls his optics just thinking about it.

Yes, he loves you...yet it's normal. It has to be. He hasn't had a partner in a long time, if at all. Maybe he... wants to try something like that with you.

For now, Ratchet tried to focus on your safety. When he can find a way he'll share his romantic feelings with you. When he can properly convey them....

Gaining a way to talk to you made Ratchet relax a bit more. It gave him comfort whenever you texted him or gave him a call. Some say you can see Ratchet's mood change when you were on the phone. He physically relaxes his stance at the thought of you being safe and sound.

Optimus notices this change in his friend and his thought is he's happy for Ratchet. His friend has managed to find solace in a human like the others. Even if it's in a different way.

Being able to contact you is a double edged sword with Ratchet. While he's calmer with hearing your voice or seeing your texts, he appears snappy if he hasn't heard from you. Ratchet is never far from a way to contact you.

It's obsessive.

Ratchet would look distant when you don't respond right away, often looking at the screen with a frown. He hated being away from you at times. But you're busy with your own life and he is busy with his.

You'd soon learn not picking up when Ratchet calls is a mistake. Take a nap or go to work and Ratchet gets anxious. He expects you to pick up.

It would be so much easier if you were just right next to him...

He hopes he can do that some day once he perfects his hologram avatar technology.

---

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?"

Ratchet's gruff voice echoes through your phone. You had been away from your phone for a few hours and came back to voice mails of worried Ratchet. You originally thought it funny that he never wanted to be away from you for long, now it was concerning.

"I was busy, Ratchet..."

"Busy, huh? You're supposed to have your phone on you."

"What did I even miss? You know I have to have my own life here, right?"

Ratchet's silent on the phone, most likely grumbling to himself.

"Yeah yeah, I know. I have reasons to worry, however."

"Decepticons?"

"Yes. I don't know what I'd do if they got their hands on you."

"Nothing's going to happen, Ratchet!"

"You don't KNOW that...."

There's silence on the phone again before Ratchet speaks again. You swore you heard him sigh deeply.

"I want you back at the base."

"Why?"

"Security reasons. Decepticons in the area."

Something about his voice sounds off. His response is curt, almost rehearsed. You push it aside, thinking he's just irritated.

"Really? Alright...."

"Don't worry too much, I'd never let them touch you. I'm picking you up. Wait there, okay?"

"Ratchet, You never usually leave the base that often. Shouldn't you send one of the oth-"

"They're busy. I'd prefer it if... I brought you here, is that okay with you?"

"Sure, Ratchet. Be careful."

Ratchet says nothing, but your words affected him greatly. He appreciated the fact you cared for him like he cared for you. He hangs up on you and you cautiously wait for him. Decepticons in the area?

Were you really in that much danger?

---

It felt wrong to lie to you about a Decepticon threat. Yet Ratchet reassured himself that it could happen at any point in time. Just calling you wasn't enough.

As Ratchet drove back to the base with you in the front seat, he thought deeply about what he was doing. How long could he lie before he told you how he really felt? How long until you realize there's no real threat at this time.

Like a Decepticon, Ratchet had lied to you to get what he wants.

It felt dirty. Despite this, Ratchet could only think about you in his front seat. He could tell you were concerned.

He hoped you could forgive him for this. At the base you provide him such comfort. No one else could make him feel such a way. If he kept you there... he wouldn't have to worry. He could think about himself just this time, yeah?

Hopefully his little project would be done soon and he could convince you to stay. He could make you your own little area in the base and interact with you with a little avatar. In his eyes, you'd be a much happier human with his care.

He had his reasons and ways to have you understand him. You can't fully blame him when you learn the truth, could you? Decepticons were a threat, even if they weren't right at this tick.

This was the best way to care for you. He loves you... this would be beneficial to the both of you. You'll be safe and he'll have you.

While it may feel wrong to betray your trust now, it would yield results in the future. Ratchet stops once he rolls into the base and lets you out. After he transforms, Ratchet picks you up in his hands.

He can't hide the grin on his face when he looks at you.

You may not know it yet, but he knows you'll be so much happier beside him rather than alone.

"I'll make sure the Decepticons don't harm a hair on your head... you can relax, I'm here now."

[bowsersfavprincess]

BOWSER X METALHEAD S/O

Contains: Fluff, gn reader, Bowser having a fat crush on the reader (ofc), Junior being a cutie patootie, Kamek not giving af, mention of potential imprisonment/death/kidnapping, bad words 🙀☠️

Sorry it took me so long to make another part but this pretty much goes with my last post (Although you don't have to read it to understand)

Bowser's a lonely guy, all he has is his makeshift family

Kamek, the Koopalings, and of course his son Junior

Which you'd think is a big family, but he still feels lonely

He longs for companionship

He craves the thought of marriage

Which is why Peach finds herself in his grasp so often

Junior obviously deserves a mother figure, and who better than the sweetest most beautiful Princess in all the land?

And although Bowser can't deny that Peach is something special, he finds himself thinking about how Peach sort of isn't his type

She's too uptight and prissy for him

He wants someone who he can be himself around, and they won't see him as a total monster

But he's convinced himself that no one like that exists, and that Peach would be the best option for a mother

Well he was convinced, until he met you

You had both been at a concert

Bowser's favorite heavy metal band at that

A band that happened to originate from the darklands

The band was entirely made out of Koopas, so the only fans were darkland creatures

Who would be dumb enough to travel to this deadly lava land and possibly be imprisoned forever just to see a rock band?

And it made sense, heavy metal was usually only enjoyed by the people of Bowser's kingdom

But there you were in the crowd, sticking out like a sore thumb

Easily noticeable

Though most of the Goombas, Koopas, Shy guys, and other creatures didn't seem to take notice or care

If you were any real threat King Bowser would easy spot you out and dispose of you

And oh, he spot you out alright

As soon as he sits in his big throne (which he has for all his concerts because he's 'The King of Awesomeness') he spots you immediately

'Kamek... who the hell is that?'

Kamek nudges him for swearing because Junior's standing by

The small Prince looks at his father with wide eyes

'Oops.. uh.. sorry Junior. But who is that?'

Kamek just shrugs

'I'm not sure sire, why don't you ask?'

'Wha- I can't just go up and ask!'

Bowser wonders why he's so nervous about asking

You're technically an intruder, and he could throw you in a pit of lava if he so wished

But that feeling in his stomach reminds him that he wouldn't

That jittery feeling of nervousness and excitement

He begrudgingly does what his advisor suggests, tapping you on the shoulder

You turn around to a tall King looming over you

His shadow engulfs you, but you aren't afraid

He seems puzzled at this

'Oh! You must be King Bowser. It's a pleasure to meet you, really.'

Now he's even more confused

A pleasure? To meet him? Surely you're joking

But that sweet innocent smile says otherwise

'I.. uh.. yeah. You too...'

He's at a bit of a loss for words, which never happens to him

Ever

He's trying to find something to say, to not just stand there staring awkwardly

'So uh.. you... like this band?'

You smile at him once again with genuine interest in the conversation

'Yup! This is my favorite band actually.'

Bowser can't help but smile too

'Huh... really? Wow, not a lot of uh... outsiders like this music..'

He quickly speaks again to make sure you're comfortable

'Not that you're not welcome of course! I won't uhh, throw you in lava or anything..'

He chuckles awkwardly, hoping that he won't scare this mysterious human away

You laugh too

'Oh that's alright, I'm not scared'

He stops, blankly staring

You're not scared

You're not scared of him

You're not frightened, visibly repulsed, you actually like the music here

Bowser just stares for a long while, absolutely dumbstruck

Then the buzz of speakers connecting is heard and he knows the concert will start soon

'Uh.. why don't you.. join me?'

He points to his elevated seats

'Best seats in the house'

He smiles awkwardly and is overjoyed once you accept

It's then you meet Junior and Kamek

Kamek isn't necessarily interested in you, you aren't a threat and Bowser seemingly enjoys your company

Junior however, could not be more interested

Some random human that his father brought back to sit in the royal spots with him

Some human who seems genuinely friendly

It's not something Junior is used to either

He doesn't get along with Mario at all, doesn't see Luigi much and well

Princess Peach doesn't necessarily like Junior

As much as she's sugary sweet on the outside, the idea of mothering a small version of her enemy doesn't quite appeal to her

And she's not exactly the best actress

But this random human seemed to have no problems with Junior

In fact they seemed as interested in Junior as he was in them

Bowser notices

'Oh, that's my son, Junior'

Junior just gives a small wave

Your eyes go wide and you smile at him

'Hello Junior'

You can't help but squeak with excitement looking at the shy koopa

'Oh, you look just like your father! I bet you're going to grow up and be big and strong just like him, huh?'

Junior's tail wags slightly

'Yeah! I'll be just like papa!!'

Bowser watches this scene with the most joy he's felt in years

Maybe... maybe he could stop pursuing Peach and kidnap someone else

No, he had a chance

It was slim, but much larger than the chance Peach was giving him

Which is none

He didn't have to force you, not yet

You weren't scared

You seemingly liked him and his son

Maybe he could actually get someone to love him

The real him

After the concert ends Bowser doesn't want you to leave

In fact he's a bit beside himself at the thought

Maybe he will have to kidnap you, make you stay

But you assure him that you'll be back

He doesn't believe it, not one bit

But then you take out a sharpie you had brought to get the bands autograph and write your number on his palm

Once again he's speechless

Maybe he has a chance at real love after all

We can fix him. Or make him worse 😈

I'll probably make a part two to this because I was going to do something entirely different but then accidentally made a whole story lol

Also how do you guys feel about Bowser x reader smut?? 🤔🥴 (Monster fuckers unite)