#SHES SO WONDERUL I LOVE HER

[magpod-confessions]

one of my fav parts in tma was when annabelle randomly told martin that she was considering making a kids tv show abt herself and she only told him that weird ass fact because she was trying to practice being honest 😭 like i actually love her so much

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[unicorncornflakes]

Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 13

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Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at him. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags:  Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes  manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know):  @thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter @chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasyjournal @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond @imaloserbby @youngcomputerpuppy @aemondsfavouritebastard @cloudroomblog @queenofshinigamis @bluevxnus @wooya1224 @serving-targaryen-realness @darkenchantress @padfooteyes @mariannnavao @moonlightfoxx @jennifer0305 @ammo23 @iloveallmyboys @tempt-ress @bellameshipper @okfashionista @shelbyteller @dahlias-and-marigolds @the-knights-of-ne @bellaisasleep

Author´s note:  Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome! And sorry for the delay theses weeks, I will try to be faster in next chapters.

Acknowledgment: To @ammo23 for the brilliant corrections and the wonderull work as beta reader, for all the patience and the love that always shows for my writing. Thank you so much for all the time that you spend with this. Thank you so much. i really aprreciate it :D

Word Count: 7.4K

“I know you don't want to see me, but could you at least take my call? We need to talk about what happened.' You deleted the message again almost automatically. Cregan had texted you almost every day that week and had called you at least five times. It wasn't like the harassment of a jealous or insistent boyfriend but more like the calls for attention from a man worried about you. You turned off the phone screen while having breakfast with your grandmother and Aemond on that Saturday morning.

You sighed in defeat, and Aemond looked over the top of the newspaper, wanting to know what was wrong with you. Alicent went on to talk about the benefit gala she did every year to raise money for the Faith of the Seven. It would be that night, and it would also coincide with being the first year that you would attend.

It was a gala dinner where the most influential personalities from all over Westeros gathered because Aemond brought them there simply to make his mother happy once a year. It would be your first time attending because you were already of legal age. Before, the agreement your parents had signed prevented any public exposure you might have. They both wanted to protect you from belonging to two of the most influential families in the seven kingdoms, but now it was different.

Aemond insisted that you would have to start participating in the few public events in which he also participated. While your father was making a weekly cover of the gossip magazines, the rest of the Targaryen brothers kept a discreet distance in the background. Understated, but not non-existent, and that was Aemond's idea for you; let the world know that you were a dragon, with the importance and responsibility that it entailed, but that you would not lose yourself in the world of luxury and pleasures in which Aegon seemed to be immersed.

The phone rang one last time, and you picked it up, annoyed. You ran your finger across the screen, ignoring the last notification of what you knew would be the only call Cregan would attempt that day, or so you thought and took a small sip of your coffee. Aemond raised an eyebrow. He knew you were hiding something from him, but making a scene in front of his mother wouldn't help you hide something you thought was too obvious, but no one seemed to notice.

"This year, I have put more desserts on the menu", your grandmother smiled at you, bringing you back to reality. "A very good selection. I know how much you like desserts," she explained sweetly and sympathetically. Your grandmother had always been quite lax with you, removing the prefects of faith, but after your birthday and what had happened, she seemed even sweeter, as if she didn't want to offend you in anything and to please you in everything. From what Aemond had told you, it was quite similar to the attitude she had taken towards him when he lost his eye.

"Thank you, Grandma." You smiled shyly at her, and Aemond smirked. The truth was that you had become even more aware of the strong bond that united Alicent and Aemond, and it seemed that the new status of your nameless relationship with him made things change between you and your grandmother. She wasn't just your grandmother anymore, at least from Aemond's perspective. On the other hand, her gesture touched you, but desserts had ceased to fascinate you since you had turned seven years old. "Who's going to the gala?" you asked curiously, not wanting to show your concern about meeting Cregan there. You couldn't face it, at least not at the time. It wasn't a question of love but because Cregan had been good to you and that, in the end, you had disappeared from his life without a trace. You were ashamed of your behaviour, but you were even more ashamed of the fact that you had changed him so quickly for the one you truly loved.

"Anyone who can afford it," Aemond replied, closing the newspaper. "The 300 kindest people in all of Westeros, but this is according to your grandmother," he chuckled, playing a joke on his mother that she reluctantly scolded, slapping her son on the arm. Alicent didn't know what was wrong with her son, but lately, he seemed happier, more cheerful, more human. Aemond had always been rigid in his convictions and behaviour. However, in recent weeks he had a behaviour similar to being in love. Your grandmother had no idea what this meant, but she was just happy for her son. She believed that he was seeing someone and that sooner or later one of her children, whom she thought would always remain sad, would give her grandchildren. Alicent had no idea how little of this happiness was left for her son, but at that breakfast, she thought that everything would be fine in the life of the most battered of her children.

"They are very important people, of that we can be sure," your grandmother smiled radiantly. She was about to start talking about her project again when your phone vibrated on the table again. Cregan was being really insistent that morning, perhaps because you suspected that he would also be attending this famous event, and he wanted to spare you the embarrassment and discomfort of meeting each other after you had ignored him, if only for your sake and Aemond's. You were beginning to see how jealous he could get over almost anything. He thought he hid it well under hisserious facade, but you were beginning to know the way he clenched his jaw, which seemed to break the teeth and bones that made it up.

"Why don't you take it?" Aemond tried to sound casual but failed in his attempt. You knew that he only demanded to know who it was, who called you so urgently on a Saturday morning. You saw him take a cigarette out of a fresh pack that he just opened at that moment. He brought it to his lips without losing sight of you, but you didn't look at him. You didn't want to talk to him about how Cregan was calling you to fix things. The old wolf was simply saying that he needed to talk to you. You heard the Zippo click and how he took a puff and then quickly blew smoke out of his nose.

"It's nothing important," you told him as you tried to continue eating breakfast. You picked up a piece of fruit and began to peel it in silence under the watchful eye of Aemond, who knew you were lying. However, this time it was not jealousy. It was just a worry that had been on his mind lately more than he wanted to admit: You didn't trust him. Or at least not to tell him everything that happened to you. It seemed as if there was some kind of barrier between you that you had built up in a way of protecting you both. For Aemond, it was beginning to be a concern. Where was all this leading you if you couldn't trust him?

"Good morning", your father appeared just then, stretching and with a tired face as he took his seat next to you at that garden table. At least he had managed to break the tension that had existed up to that moment and of which, as always, your grandmother seemed unaware. Your father ruffled your hair again, and you smiled at him. It was one of those things he should have done when you were little, but at least tried now. That was the only consolation you found. "Don't eat fruit for breakfast. That is only done if you are sick," he joked as he took a Croissant, and you laughed. Aemond looked at the two of you disapprovingly.

"Are you going to go to the gala with that face?" Aemond spoke unlovingly to his older brother, taking another drag, nearly draining the cigarette to the end. Aegon always managed to get under his skin. However, it was his brother. He had to protect him. He should always protect his family.

"It's my usual face," your father replied as he poured himself coffee under Aemond's watchful eye. That one-eyed look that always disapproved of him. His younger brother looked at him disapprovingly, having almost forgotten you at once.

"It's your face from having been partying days in a row", Aemond said as he stubbed out his cigarette, ready to scold Aegon, as always. You had rarely seen it because the three of you had met a few times in time and space together, but you were beginning to realize that it was a bit of a regular occurrence. 

"Well, that's the same thing. My usual face." Your father shrugged and dunked the croissant into his coffee, ready to ignore his brother. He winked at you, and at that moment, your phone rang again. Aegon cheekily stared at your phone screen. What neither your grandmother nor Aemond dared to do, your father did shamelessly and was simply angry. "What is Cregan doing calling you?" he asked you, visibly angry. You did not answer, knowing that not telling him would anger Aemond.

"That man doesn't seem to understand endings", your grandmother spoke, worried about you. Everyone fell silent afterwards as the phone rang. Aemond's jaw clenched as if he was going to break it, and your grandmother gave you a worried look. However, it was Aegon who crossed all the lines of your privacy. After all, your father thought that Cregan was ultimately responsible for that anxiety attack that had landed you in the hospital.

"Fuck", your father picked up the phone. You tried to stop him almost desperately, but he simply took the cell phone and picked it up in an aggressive way, grinding his teeth and losing his mind for the simple fact that his puppy was suffering. Aegon was not violent. That attitude involved too much work, and he was not used to work. But, he was just starting to freak out lately under a desire to keep you safe and happy. That was all that mattered to him. He brought the phone to his ear, under the watchful eye of Aemond, who leaned back in his chair to watch the spectacle. “Listen to me well, old wolf. I want you to leave her alone,” you heard Cregan yell on the other end of the line.

"Dad, give me back the phone", you yelled at him as you followed him around the garden after he got up. You didn't want to put on any show. It wasn't your style or your ways, but it was partly your father's. Aegon, at that moment, only cared about you.

"If you don't stop calling her, believe me, there will be consequences, and I think you know very well what kind of consequences there are when you mess with dragons." You saw him sigh heavily as you tried to take his mobile while you chased him through the garden, where he was pacing nervously, trying to avoid you. Hewas going to protect you. He would do it like he hadn't in 17 years.

"Dad, please", you yelled at him again, but then you felt a hand grab you and pull you away from your father. You saw Aemond walk up to his older brother and take the phone away from him while yelling a thousand expletives at Cregan. After all, Aemond was stronger and taller than your father.

"You're an asshole.” your uncle spat on your father. At first, it had been fun to watch. "What the hell are you threatening him for? We can send whoever you want, but don't threaten him, okay? Don't even think of doing it again," he told him as he handed back your mobile. Now he was worried about what could happen. He could send a thousand guys to beat up Cregan, but he couldn't do what your father had done: yell it out in front of everyone through a phone that might be recording. He couldn't afford to be associated with acts of violence like that. Not him, not his family, or they would have problems.

“He said he had to talk to her. I won't have it after what happened,” your father yelled, now turning his anger on Aemond.

"Alright. I don't want him to talk to her either, but let me handle it." Aemond took your father by the arm and whispered in his ear. Aegon just nodded his head, and your uncle's face grew grim. You ran to talk to Aemond. You didn't want anything to happen to Cregan because you knew that nothing that happened to you was his fault. It had only been a determinant, not a cause. However, your grandmother arrived first.

"Don't even think about doing anything. I know you too well. Both of you.” Aegon ran a hand over his face in despair, but Aemond ignored her.

"Hmmm", was all he sighed as he sauntered past you. You had never seen that side of your family, but it was something that scared you. You didn't feel comfortable, and you really began to fear what might happen to Cregan, just as you saw Aemond walk away to make a call that you never knew the content of. Alicent looked worriedly at her son. He had always been protective of you, and that was already too much.

Lya had always liked flashes, cameras and glamour. Those three elements had undoubtedly been determining factors in opting for that stable relationship with your uncle Daeron. The lawyer had remained for a couple of photos with his girlfriend at the entrance to the Hightower Hotel where the gala that took so much effort and time for your grandmother was held, but finally, he had let her enjoy having a little fame for herself.

Since Lya was only known for being the 'girlfriend of…' However, she didn't care. She enjoyed it equally and would enjoy it even more after Daeron proposed to her. It shouldn't have been that long. She had endured the unspeakable among the Targaryens, and at the very least, her reward had to be a proper marriage. Something that would give her a status similar to Alicent's in that family. But, Lya was not Alicent and never would be. Daeron Targaryen's young girlfriend enjoyed the last moment in which the photographers claimed her attention. At that precise moment, Aemond Targaryen and his brother made an appearance, getting out of the main family car. Alicent got out of the car with difficulty, helped by the eldest of her children, and behind her, you appeared.

A red and black velvet gown had been your choice for that night, or rather Aemond's. He held you by the waist as you got out of the car, and in a protective gesture, he took you inside the building, holding you tight, while the attention of the photographers was torn between taking a picture of your figure that your uncle would not let go of or your father with your grandmother, who did stay at the doors of the building to the delight of many photographers.

Aemond wanted you to participate in public life, not expose yourself, and you wouldn't have been comfortable with it either, but that paternal gesture from the man who was now your lover left you cold. What would anyone think of the way he had grabbed you? Well-dressed and in keeping with the moment, he ignored you as he entered the building. Now was the time to save face, though the long, silent look he gave you as you walked away from him said it all. It was the look of a man in love, and Lya could only narrow her eyes at that spectacle. What was between you and Aemond was not normal, and Lya, she could only suspect. Daeron gently took her hand as she entered the building, but the young Stark couldn't get the thought out of her head. She had seen how Aemond held you and looked at you. She did remember what had happened between Daemon and Rhaenyra, and she couldn't ignore that you two seemed too similar. Was the rest of the Targaryens blind?

After all day alone in the family home, you found yourself even more alone at that party. You saw your Aunt Helaena and her husband, Jace, dance together in the crowd. Your father was already missing, and your grandmother was chatting with one of her pious friends. You saw Lya and Daeron equally dance together after dinner, which had been tedious and almost unbearable. To be fair, you hadn't seen Lya since that night at the smallest of the Velaryon's clubs on your father's express orders. But, at that party and after such a long time, her presence continued to bother you. You would never feel comfortable with her again. Not after her friends had aired how she saw you.

You sighed, bored, and Aemond looked at you sideways, sitting next to you at the same table where you had eaten. He smiled when he saw you slip into your seat with your arms crossed. So pretty and, at the same time, so careless. He would have loved to have ushered you into one of the upstairs rooms right then, but he was content to see you like this while one of the main investors continued to discuss numbers and figures with Aemond. Without a doubt, this was a party for everyone. Except for you.

"I'll tell Alys to send you the closing of the quarterly", Aemond commented while that man continued chattering while the face of his wife, also sitting next to him, was quite similar to yours. However, it seemed to activate the moment your uncle spoke the name of his secretary.

"Oh, speaking of Alys, I miss her at this gala", the man's wife commented with a sarcastic giggle as she scanned you up and down. You tensed. You never expected that no one would give you such an accusing and cheeky look like that in that place "... but I see that you have changed it for a younger model, right?" That woman with the pearl necklace and ancient hairstyle lashed out again, and her husband told her reprimanded her while she looked away, embarrassed. Aemond didn't even look at you, now concentrating on glaring at that woman with his one eye, but the damage was already done. A younger model? Is that how they saw you at that party? That was a hard blow to reality. Perhaps you weren't being as discreet as Aemond expected, and you saw Lya look at you and smile as she was now whispering to one of her friends. And you started to feel bad. The world was spinning.

"I have to go to the bathroom," was all you said. You needed to cool off. You needed to get out of there while you felt in an almost paranoid way how everyone was looking at you at that party. What was happening to the world?

"She is my niece. Not a fucking prostitute." Aemond spoke just as you left, and that woman paled while her husband could barely swallow. Now they were in your uncle's crosshairs, and the man knew that he would not deal with dragons again. Much to his regret. All because of his wife's big mouth and her way of pointing out subtleties that weren't as subtle as the great Aemond Targaryen believed and his family of dragons refused to see.

You got your neck and chest slightly wet. Not the face. That would be spoiling the makeup that they had put on you in that very expensive beauty salon that your uncle had paid for. The red lips in the tone that he himself had chosen, you looked overwhelmed. You needed to get out of there. You began to believe in the words that your mother had always said and in her refusal to attend that party.

Also, you were beginning to believe that everyone was looking at you as if everyone suspected what was happening between you and Aemond, but you were discreet, right? Definitely yes. Never a major gesture in public. Never. So much sacrifice. Only, he had taken you by the waist in a protective gesture, and the way he looked at you said much more than any of his gestures.

You sighed slowly as if you were trying to regulate your agitated breathing, your anxiety. You saw yourself in front of that mirror in that lonely bathroom. The focus of attention was on you. You needed to get back to Aemond's side, not worry him and tell him that you wanted to go home. Make love in your room. Normalize what you felt for each other. No more secrets. Shout it out if necessary. But you knew you couldn't. So you were content with wanting to return only to his side. You left the bathroom for it after taking a deep breath and steeling yourself to face that crowded room.

"You look spectacular", you heard a familiar voice just behind you. You turned, and there he was, the man you'd been trying to ignore all week. Cregan has his hands in his pants pockets, dressed in a suit befitting the occasion like everyone else. He smiled sadly at you, and you almost blanched. He was well groomed, yet his eyes showed a lack of sleep. Two large dark circles under his eye sockets were proof that Cregan Stark, the old wolf of Winterfell, had been almost without sleep since he had returned to the capital.

"Thank you," was all you answered, looking away from him but unable to move from the spot. A small part of you told you that you should have taken some of his calls, answered some text, stood there and let him put his arms around you, but you were in love with Aemond.

Cregan was nothing to you anymore if he ever was. Cregan was the right choice. It always would be, but not always, the right choices are the ones we want to make. "I have to go," was all you could think of to say, almost scared to have found him. That simple exchange of words would make Aemond jealous, and this was something you did not want to experience again. Besides, you were also dreading the prospect of talking to Cregan. It scared you in a way you couldn't explain. You'd ignored him, and you'd ignored him because the girl from just a month ago would have seen herself capable of taking on anything, but you weren't that girl anymore. You had lost strength as if you were starting to let Aemond take care of everything. You weren't you anymore, were you? In the end, it all came down to the fact that you had developed an irrational fear of betraying, harming or offending Aemond.

"Wait", Cregan grabbed your bare arm, and that only caused you anxiety. What would Aemond think if he saw you like this, with his body so close to yours? With the northerner claiming you so fiercely? "Please, (Y/N), wait", he whispered to you, looking into your eyes with the sincerity that characterized him. I understand that you don't want to see me. I heard what happened after I left, but we need to talk." His hand loosened its grip on your arm.

"I don't want to talk, Cregan," you told him without taking your eyes off the ground. You were taking too long. You had only told Aemond that you would go to the bathroom and come back. He must have been worried about you, and you were just being hindered by Cregan. "I don't need to talk."

“Everyone needs to talk about what's wrong with them, (Y/N)", he whispered to you and at that moment, his eyes met yours. You wish Aemond was like this. You wish, sometimeAemond would open up so much to you that you could understand what was going on inside his head. You let your guard down, and Cregan smiled. A sincere and sad smile. "What happened… what happened to you and you going to the hospital was terrible."

"It had nothing to do with you", you replied, looking away from him. Cregan cradled your face in his hands, caressing your chin and lips. This was another kind of love, very different from Aemond's, completely different.

"Even if it had nothing to do with me, I feel just as guilty", he whispered, trying to calm you down, trying to protect you. "I know that something has changed, and you don't want to see me again, but... I still like you, and I'm still in love with you, with your smile, with that beautiful way you had to bite your lip when we made love..." he moaned almost desperately for one more minute by your side. Cregan had always been a lovesick man. Yet you had managed to drive him crazy in ways he couldn't understand. The time he had spent in Winterfell without you had been eternal and painful, even more, hurtful when what had happened to you after his departure reached his ears. The old wolf always fixed things and wanted to be there to fix you. "Please, I only ask you for a coffee. You and I. Alone and calm. Without your family, Just you and me. Fix what we can fix…"

"I-I can't", you sighed, defeated because in front of you was a man even more defeated than you. You did not want to be alone with Cregan because you knew that in your heart, it was this affection that you had always needed and would always need. You would have killed for Aemond to have shown half the devotion Cregan had for you, but you knew your uncle was too arrogant for it. You looked Cregan in the eye to say goodbye and to close that chapter once and for all when you heard your father's voice right behind you.

"I told you to leave her alone!" he roared as he grabbed your arm to pull you away from Cregan. You had never seen your father violent, but he scared you at the time, just as his fist met Cregan's jaw and Cregan made a sound of pain. The girl who was with your father and whose presence you only became aware of then shrieked. And then there was only scandal, screams and people. A security guard grabbed your father, who was almost determined to kill Cregan, and Aemond hugged you as he found you in the crowd. That night two rumours began to resonate even louder throughout the King's Landing: Cregan had been to blame for what had happened to you, and your relationship with Aemond was too close.

Daeron sat wearily on the bed. He sighed and looked at the ceiling. At least he had managed to get Cregan not to press charges after a punch from Aegon. That was progress. The old wolf of Winterfell said he understood your father. After all, Cregan Stark was also the father of several girls. Daeron couldn't remember how many, but he was a father after all. Aegon would never know how to handle his emotions when it had to do with you. At least from the perspective of the smallest of dragons.

The youngest of your uncles fell on the bed after loosening his tie and would have let himself sleep there if it weren't for the fact that he had visitors that night. Lya came out of the bedroom bathroom wrapped in the bathrobe that a few months ago she had insisted on leaving at her boyfriend's house. Daeron hated that young Stark left her things at his house. It was almost a way to increase their commitment. A commitment Daeron was less and less sure of. Lya was capricious and spoiled at times as if being his longest-lasting girlfriend gave her permission to always have her own way.

Daeron leaned back on the bed to watch her as she sat at the dresser she'd asked for a few months ago. He had ended up buying it so he wouldn't have to listen to her. Those were the relationships that stuck, right? Give in to not listen to your loved one. Although, he doubted that he was in love with her. What was love? Has he ever felt it? He watched her remove her makeup in silence while she looked at him in the reflection of that mirror. He remembered that vacation in Pentos with the girl he really liked in college. The one whose parents, true descendants of Old Valyria, had rejected Daeron for his 'tainted' blood. After all, Alicent was the only one who didn't come from a place like this. This vague and imprecise concept that made Aemond proud was just a hoax. They were nothing similar. They never would be, and perhaps with that idea, Daeron had started dating Lya. He would never live up to what their last names were supposed to carry.

"You're very quiet." Lya woke him from his musings, and Daeron stared at the ceiling, weary. He needed a vacation away from his family.

"I was thinking that I'm glad your cousin didn't file a complaint with my brother," he lied because he didn't want to tell Lya what was going through his head because he didn't want to talk to her about how he felt that the relationship was going nowhere. Lya laughed cheekily, and Daeron looked at her again, confused. "What are you laughing at?"

"That my cousin would never press charges against Aegon. He still hopes to end up between (Y/N) 's legs." She smiled again in an unpleasant way as she turned around. Her brown eyes locked with Daeron's. "Poor fool. That place is already taken and awarded to another man. Only a fool or those who refuse to see reality would not see it." She shrugged and continued combing her hair.

"Pardon…?" Daeron started to speak, but Lya cut him off with a cocky smile and a know-it-all look.

"Aemond is fucking your niece. Are you going to tell me it's not true?" She challenged him. She challenged him because Daeron had never dared to raise a word higher than another against his girlfriend, because they had never argued, because he had always given in until Aegon made it clear that he did not want to see Lya again for a long time. She had hurt (Y/N) with her words, and it was clear that she was only with him for his money. She challenged him because he had removed her from his life with a few simple words from his older brother. She challenged him because she was hurt by the way he had pushed her away in an affront against you.

"They have always been very close," was all he could think of to say in answer to your farce. He also had the same suspicions, but he would never dare say them out loud. His conversations with Helaena had advised him to do so.

"Like Daemon and Rhaenyra", she sneered again, and Daeron couldn't take it anymore. He got up and did the unthinkable. Lya kept giggling silently, and her boyfriend grabbed her by the neck, pushing her against the wall. She went cold and saw a more dragon-like fury in Daeron's eyes. Daeron was never going to suffer the same embarrassment that happened to his older sister. The thing that had traumatized him to the point of saying enough, that had embarrassed him. It could be happening. He wasn't the one to reveal it, much less Lya.He would never again live with the shame of such a scandal. Because if Daeron had lived in fear of anything in his life, it was the shame he had felt for all those years until people forgot what had happened between his uncle and Rhaenyra. He squeezed Lya's neck again. That gallant knight, the meekest of dragons, was willing to take out his claws so as not to be embarrassed again.

"Don't you dare suggest something like that again," he whispered between his teeth. "Have you understood me?" He shook her again, and Lya just nodded in frightened silence.

For the first time, Daeron had brought out the angry, fucked-up dragon in him, and Lya knew that the one she had taken for a panoli with money would never ask her to marry him again.

He had offered him a cigarette, and Cregan had refused. He had given up smoking when his second wife insisted on it, for his health and for the curtains not to smell of smoke. The northerner had given in. He always gave in when it came to women. A true gentleman. Every woman's dream until they got bored of it. Cregan had never left a single one of his relationships. It had always been the other party who had insisted on leaving him. He believed that things could have been fixed by talking. He was old school. And with you, he thought exactly the same, but it was clear that your paternal family would never let him get close to you again.

"Just give me a number, and I'll pay you." Aemond Targaryen, CEO of Targaryen Industries, was in front of him. The dragon was indeed smoking. Leaning back in his large leather chair, as he stared at Cregan Stark with his one eye. He had invited him into her office that morning, just after Aegon had given him a black eye, to 'talk business'. Cregan had come with the hope that these businesses would address your situation, but he found that Aemond simply wanted to buy him the project that a month ago had seemed ridiculous to him.

Cregan wasn't stupid. He knew that this was a subtle and veiled form of blackmail. If he sold his project for an exorbitant amount of money, he was selling his silence at the same time. A nice and elegant way to mask everything that had happened at the gala the night before. It was a clear subtext that Aemond Targaryen wanted to offer him: 'I bought your project in exchange for not denouncing my brother and, in exchange for your silence for any statement you could make'. That was what dragons always tried to do. To master absolutely everything. The northerner scribbled an absurdly high figure on a piece of paper and offered it to Aemond silently. He didn't want to be there. Your uncle accepted that. Aemond just looked at the paper without showing a single reaction and picked up the phone in his office. Cregan watched in disbelief as he asked Alys to set up a transfer for the amount the old wolf had put on that piece of paper.

"If that was all." Cregan started to rise from his seat when Aemond waved him back to sit down. The northerner obeyed in silence but only lifted his chin in a haughty gesture. He knew that now the topic of conversation was going to be you. Your uncle thought that he had bought Cregan with such a sum of money, perhaps he had, but he wanted to make sure that everything would return to normal after such a monetary exchange.

Aemond fell silent, a warning. "I don't want you to see her again" he was direct in his request, much less violent than his older brother, but just as threatening and possessive of you. "Don't even try to talk to her. I want you to disappear from her life."

"I suppose that this request is included in such an amount of money", Cregan replied in a bad manner. The northern challenged him. Anyone else would have nodded and gone bowing to the King of King's Landing. But Cregan Stark didn't care. Never again would dragons intimidate him.

"All men have a price, and you have written it on a piece of paper," Aemond replied. He leaned back on his desk and offered Cregan up again. "I'm going to be magnanimous, I can offer you twice as much, but it's best that you never go near her again. I'm not going to be so nice if you do it again," he smiled. One of the corners of his lips turned up. A sneer and menace crossed Aemond's face.

"You don't scare me." Cregan would never understand what was going through Aemond's head with you. He didn't think it was a healthy relationship or even logical, and yet your uncle didn't seem to want you to be happy in the eyes of others. Aemond was used to doing and undoing everything. You were not an exception.

"I know, but I think you should think about those around you" Aemond smiled again, almost laughing at Cregan. “Your eldest son Rickon is starting college at Dreadfort College this year. The streets there are dangerous, but I think that's something you already know about.” Aemond began speaking in a confident tone.

"Look…" Cregan was also planning to counterattack, but surely your uncle was much more versed in threatening than Cregan. Aemond had always grown to own everything, and he was going to prove it to the northerner.

"And I know that the kindergarten where you take the smallest of your offspring is extremely elitist, but it is not free of dangers, Cregan." He smiled again. "By the way, you should keep a closer eye on your twin daughters' nights out. It would be a shame if something happened to them in one of the clubs they frequent. You have ten children, I can go on, but I think you are already catching on to how all this is going."

Of course, he was getting it. For Cregan, the main thing was his children. Aemond Targaryen reminded him right in that conversation that Cregan might not be scared of what happened to him, but he was scared of what could happen to his children. Cregan just got up. Willing to go, he wouldn't bother you again because he knew Aemond was capable of anything. He was a dangerous man and always would be, but he turned away. Ready to challenge him one last time, trying to appeal to his conscience. "You're never going to make her happy..."

"She is happy; with me, she is happy. And always will be," your uncle spoke for the last time to the northerner without looking at him. His gloomy face against the light of the enormous window of his office. And at that precise moment, Cregan understood what was wrong with you. He would never say anything. It was just another form of dominance, but he was repulsed at imagining the very thing your uncle had confessed was going on between you. Those who do not remember their history are doomed to repeat it, and it seemed that Aemond Targaryen did not remember the same thing that had happened to his uncle.

"It is quite expensive, but it is a good project", Alys woke Aemond from his thoughts. He was looking out the window of his office. It was almost dark. However, he did not want to go home. He didn't want to look you in the eye right now and think about how he had threatened Cregan so he wouldn't see you again. It wasn't something he was proud of. He wasn't proud of any of the actions he'd taken to keep you by his side. He would never be. But he needed to be with you. That was all he needed. He knew it. He needed you by his side. His. Even if you were to go to Sunspear, you would still be his. He would take care of it. “It will triumph in the congress next week. I've already booked our rooms and…” Alys started blathering on about dates and meetings. She pretended that everything was fine between them for the good of the company, for her benefits within it, but Aemond was about to blow up that feigned peace for your good, for your uncle's idea of ​​what was your good.

“(Y/N) and I are going to the congress. Us two alone. Nobody else. You will stay here and run my schedule. I know you know how to do it. You don't need to come.” Aemond gave a firm order, and Alys's world came crashing down.

No one had the right to remove her from her post, not after working so long at that company. She was almost as important a figure as Aemond. She…she had always given her all for Targaryen Industries. She had betrayed Daemon for the good of the company, for his command to pass into the hands of someone more just but, Aemond was becoming his own uncle by leaps and bounds, and Alys was going to suffer the consequences of it.

"You are kidding, right?" It was all she answered as she felt her legs give way. No. This couldn't be happening. Alys could be many things, but she was a hard worker. The Sunspear Conference was her favourite time of the year. The time to shine, the time to be more than just a secretary. Everyone was talking about her effectiveness at that congress. She hadn't missed it once in the last 30 years. She had even attended more than Aemond had. She was the visible face of Targaryen Industries at that congress, and everything was going to change because of you. It was inadmissible.

“I want you to book the suite in any of the luxury hotels. I don't care where it is. Another smaller room next door. We can't raise suspicions.” Aemond followed his idea, ignoring each and every one of the astonished grimaces that were drawn on Alys' face.

"Aemond, I have to go," she yelled at him, almost desperate. She couldn't let anyone put out her light. She had given everything for the company. She was the one who had placed Aemond in his position. Her mind, her intelligence could not give any more. Her life was that company and nothing more. She hadn't sacrificed so much to be now placed in her simple secretary position. She didn't care that Aemond hadn't taken her to the charity dinner. She didn't care, but not when this was so extremely important.

"Alys, I think you are forgetting your place in this company. Am I going to have to remind you?" Aemond's jaw set, and Alys turned, determined to leave. Aemond Targaryen was ungrateful and didn't know who he was messing with. No doubt he was biting off more than he could chew.

An old but elegant clock marked midnight in that house in the Summer Islands. Subtle, muted cream curtains swayed in the breeze, and light from a pool in the garden shed some light on the quiet room. Old volumes of the history of Ancient Valyria between modern detective novels and political books. Daemon Targaryen had always been a man of eclectic tastes, but what he enjoyed most was a glass of whiskey and a good book.

That rather comfortable and elegant house seemed to sleep. An old photo of Daemon and Rhaenyra sat on a high teakwood mantel on which Dark Sister also rested, an old family heirloom. Proof that the Targaryens had always been into weaponry. When Daemon left his beloved company, that sword and that photo were the only things that had accompanied him to his sad exile from the rest of the mortals. His had almost seemed the most unforgivable of sins. Sitting in the darkness of his living room, an ageing Daemon thought about everything that had destroyed him and led to this situation. Aemond had never deprived him of any luxury. That was true. He had assigned him a lifetime salary, which Daemon enjoyed and squandered in his elegant home on the Summer Isles. He was still drinking a bottle of whiskey a week and fucking a different woman almost every night, but he was missing something. He was missing his beloved Rhaenyra.

Although his nephew thought himself very cunning, Daemon knew who had leaked the information. The only problem was that it seemed impossible to hit back at a man who had shielded his private life almost masterfully. Daemon wondered if his one-eyed nephew ever enjoyed life. But, that night, while reflecting on it as, almost every night, the phone rang, and Daemon Targaryen received the most important call of his life. Someone had betrayed Aemond Targaryen, and you were going to be one of the collateral victims of the revenge that Daemon was certain to execute on Aemond.

[acourtofthought]

Contains HOFAS Spoilers

Using Google Translate

About that Cauldron.......

Yes, the Cauldron was stolen by the Asteri.

But it did not originally belong to them as all life in their world originally came from it.

What is NOT canon is that mating bonds were created after the Asteri used it.

What is canon is the characters often speak of mating bonds being created by the Mother / Fate / Urd. Was the Cauldron used to do so? Maybe, but that would have been before the Aster imbued their power into it when you consider that Rhys calls his bond with Feyre a "beautiful, wonderul thing that had come into his life, this GIFT from the Cauldron". Something beautiful and wonderful seems like something the Mother would have granted to the fae, don't you agree?

If the Cauldron tainted mating bonds then how do you explain Nessian's bond? Feysand's bond? Aelin and Rowans bond? Bryce and Hunts bond? Lidia and Ruhn? Especially when half of those were bonds that were created in 2016, long before SJM ever came up with the Asteri storyline.

The reason the Asteri did what they did with the Cauldron is because of the following:

As soon as we left our home world, our powers began to weaken. Too late, we realized that we depended on the magic inherent in our land. The magic of other worlds was not potent enough. But we couldn't find our way back home. Those who ventured here found ways to amplify this power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We gathered our power and imbued these gifts into the Cauldron to work our will. With this the treasures were Made and then, we connected the essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world. If you destroy the Cauldron, you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.

The Asteri didn't seem at all worried about who fell in love with who, all they wanted was an insurance policy, exactly as the Asteri did on Midgard:

"The core is tied to the very soul of Midgard" Rigelus continued. If you destroy it, the entire planet will cease to exist. Bryce felt chills. I might have responded that was nonsense if it weren't for Vesperus' claims regarding the Cauldron.

That E/riels are turning what was a basically the Asteri's version of a horcrux that spanned across two series into a grand scheme to undo the Elucien mating bond.

Seriously???? I love Elucien but the Asteri could not give a fuck about their bond.

You know what E/riels are conveniently leaving out? While there is no proof that mating bonds were created by the Cauldron after the Asteri got their hands on it, there is proof that they created something else..........

"The Asteri's blue eyes looked down at the dagger. "You dare to draw that in front of me? Against those who created you, soldier from night and pain?"

"You don't know how to use it, do you? Azriel pointed his dagger at the advancing Asteri. " Typical of your species. They want to play with our weapons, but they have no idea what they can do " (and no, TTs big power is not that it can "cut " mating bonds 🤦. First E/riels are claiming the Asteri were the ones to create mating bonds then in the next breath they claim TT was created to undo them. Why would they need to undo something they supposedly orchestrated in the first place? There is no sense in these theories.

TT when combined with the Starsword can create realms with no life, revealed later in the book.

A whip of blue magic shot across the world, a ribbon of cobalt piercing the primalux and darkness. She could see every loop and spiral wrapped around Vesperus's neck. Time returned, speeding up to it's normal pace. "Stop!" shouted Bryce, but it was too late. Vesperus brought her hand to her neck as Azriel's blue light dissolved into her skin. She gave a strangled laugh as blook leaked from her mouth. "Still so ignorant. Your power is and will always be mine. Blue magic appeared at her fingertips, absorbed the the Illyrian attack. She wrapped one hand around it like a glove and grabbed the Starswords handle. As if this provided the barrier she needed, allowing her to touch the blade." Vesperus tore away the Starsword and dropped it on the rocks, covered in blood. No…it hadn't worked. The sword and dagger combined did not kill her.

The Illyrians. And Truth Teller. Confirmed as being created by the Asteri.

All their lovely, "adorable' theories about Az giving Elain Truth Teller....and it's a blade created by evil beings. He himself as an Illyrian, a people created by evil beings wielding a weapon also created by those evil beings.

So if Elucien's bond was created by the Asteri...of which there is absolutely no canon evidence, how is that any worse than Elain ending up with someone actually created by the Asteri? Whose power belonged to the Asteri?

[a-certain-elf]

⋆ home-cooked meals

for the cozy autumn prompts

The smell of dinner hit Amayas nose as she opened the door to the home she now shared with Janai. It had been long overdue that she moved in with Janai. She hed spent most of the last year there anyways.

Moving towards the living room she was intercepted halfway by Janai who gave her a loving hug and a quick kiss on her lips. She would never tire of her girlfriends suprise actions.

"Smells nice" She signed. "Whats the occasion?"

"Do I need a reason to cook dinner for my girlfriend?"

"No. It is a bit unexpected though. Kinda makes me wonder if-"

Janai interrupted her thought process with a kiss. Ever so lightly tracing her tounge over Amaya lips but pulling back before she could push past them. Leaving Amaya , mouth slightly open, a little suprised.

"I have a wonderul evening planned out for us. Don`t think about it too much ok? Just let me take the lead."

"Fine. What are we having?"

"The only dish I know by memory."

"Spicy noodles???" She signed excitetly

Janai nodded. "Come one. Its getting cold. Just dont tell Gren or he`ll have my head"

They moved towards the dinner table and Janai helped Amaya into her seat.

"Fine. But my silence won`t come cheap." She gave the elf a wink and a smirk.

"I`m sure I can think of something."

[fahye]

(1/?) Freya!!!!! I apologise in advance, this ask is going to be all over the place. Since I discovered your ao3 profile many, many years ago, you've been one of those auto-read authors for me, the kind you follow blindly and faithfully into fandoms you've never heard of, and crucially, the kind who always, always deliver. I must have read your capri ficS fifty times EACH, i revisit them like every six months, they're so good (ALSO!! Those fic are the reason I discovered the capri trilogy, SO THANK YOU FOR THAT!!!) ANYWAY!! That is to say, when you announced that you were publishing your first original novel, I was SO excited. And AML did not disappoint, it had everything that made me fall in love with your writing in the first place, fascinating world building, and characters i want to kiss on the forehead and tuck into my pockets (AND MAGICAL HOUSES!!!! Bestest of tropes). I read it around the time it came out and I couldn't wait for the sequel. And then I learned what the sequel was actually going to be about and ART immediately became my most anticipated book of the year. Every tidbit you divulged made me go to goodreads and stare at the publication date for full minutes like sheer longing was going to magically make it sooner.

(2/3 now I think) Magical murder mystery! Sapphics!!! ON BOATS!!! It sounded like it was going to be the book of dreams. AND IT WAS!!!!!! It was sooooo gooood. I loved everything about it: the plot (delightful, delightful, and delightful. A VALISE FULL OF PORNOGRAPHY!!! WILD ANIMALS RUNNING AMOK!! A FAKE REAL SEANCE!!! God, just thinking about it makes me so happy), the characters (i loved everyone so dearly!!! Even the background characters were painted so vividly and charmingly, and of course the orgy quartet HAS MY WHOLE HEART!!! Both individually and together. Special mentions go to Lord Hawthorn, the aristocratic asshole of my heart, AND MAUDIE!!!! She was so complex and wonderul, and I just saw you one post where you described her as a lesbian miles vorkosigan, which????!?!?!?! I'D NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT LIKE THAT BUT YES ABSOLUTELY, my most beloved brilliant disaster generals… AND OH, SHE'S EVEN ON A BOAT, SO "ADMIRAL" IS FITTING), and of course the prose… genuinely so astonishingly, consistently beautiful. I can't think of any other books where sentences regularly make me stop to marvel at how gorgeously crafted and evocative they are, at the cleverness of the pictures they paint, without taking me out of the story. And the consistent music imagery throughout the book, a connecting thread in both povs!!! I hope we get to see the girls at Spinet House in book three. And the sex scenes of course… you are a master!!!! So sexy and lush, and such excellent character studies at the same time, I am in awe. Also, so happy to see excellent, explicit wlw smut!!!! Not enough of it out there!!! Which of course brings me to the relationships…. AHHHHH SO GOOD. SO GOOD!! The joy and discovery and tension and building trust of Maud and Violet, the excellent dynamics of the quartet, but also Maud and Hawthorn, UNEXPECTEDLY MAYBE MY FAVORITE DUO, and omg, the way you depict even "off page" relationships, ie maud and edwin, maud and robin, robin and edwin… so much feeling and tenderness and care!!!! You don't need to be told that they love each other, it comes across so, so clearly. ALSO (last one I promise) FORSYTHIA CLUB BACKSTORY!!! Flora and Beth crushed my heart underfoot) 

(3/3) ANYWAY ALL OF THIS TO SAY…. ART was so much FUN!!!!! A treat from beginning to end, one of my fave reads this year. AND A POWER UNBOUND IS ALREADY MY MOST ANTICIPATED BOOK OF NEXT YEAR, which… is going to be thought, given that it's a whole 12 months away, womp womp. I can't wait to get more of lord hawthorn (who i hoped would be a future book protag on very first appearance in aml!!!), i want to pry him open like a clam and peer into his brain, and of alan ross, and of their DELICIOUS dynamic… also looking forward to learning more about elsie alston and to see the whole gang interact, magical houses included!!! Anyway, that is all, I apologise for the insane amount of capslock and exclamation points, I just wanted to make sure my appreciation got across, I LOVE THE LAST BINDING THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS WONDERFUL SERIES, I WISH YOU MUCH JOY IN WRITING AND I CAN'T WAIT RO SEE WHAT YOU DO NEXT!!

anon I am so sorry I had to Read More your message because in the depths of my soul I want to frame it, decoupage it, enclose it in enamel with little flecks of gold leaf, shove it in the face of everyone who visits my house, etc. 

this is like when you open a ‘someone left a comment’ email from ao3 and your face does a weird :DDDDDDDD thing with each subsequent scroll-down you have to do to read the whole thing. thank you?? you’re so lovely and this message filled me with joy.

and I can say with full confidence that the theme of music continues in book 3, and that I have shoved my knife RIGHT into the clam-shell hinges of lord hawthorn for you all.

thank you again! I hope 2023 brings you many enjoyable things, and that my book is one of them.

[neoarchipelago]

Hi! I really love the "and they were roommates" series so much, it got me twirling my hair and giggling like a school girl

I was thinking maybe you could have ghost starting to train sparrow for some self defense training because he got so worried about her safety and need to make sure she will be okay and can protect herself when he was on a mission. Because at this point ghost is gonna have a heart attack from worrying the safety of his little bunny.

Ghost is so whipped and I'm here for it, give us more fluff please it's my life supply at this point

Btw, can you add me to the taglist? Can't wait to see more!!

yes he is, that poor man is going to go insane let me tell you,

wonderul idea though i'm adding it to the story at some poiint!

[stardustpinkart]

I dunno if I will finish this ever, much less for christmas. I kinda want to but I seriously have NO energy these days. I wake up and I still feel exhausted, its no fun.

But if I get the urge to doodle thats a good thing. So here i wanted to share this :) I hope I can finish but this was fun anyway.

Saw a lil of Silent Night Deadly Night. I cant help feel sorry for Billy Chapman, hes a monster society made it seems. He dident get pysschological help he needed, and suffered terribly in the oprhange. Forced alone to sit on Santas lap after what he went trhough? Of course he’d be scared to death. And that bitch mother superior, anyway else think she’d have deserved to die?

Billy deserves a lil more love. This is probably OOC but then so is the wonderul “Camp Counselor Jason” :)

Children are visiting Billy Chapman Santa, particulary horror movie children(any i’ve forgotten you can imagine here.) Andy Barclay, the Shining twins and Danny, the kids from “It?” Maybe even the kids from Stranger things :) And here we have little Jamie and Uncle Michael. She kissing Billy’s cheek to say thank you for her present, and, it’s giving Billy warm fuzzies. Good little kids are nice. So this gives him happiness.

MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL!

[englishstrawbie]

I was thinking about maya's background and how she sort of got left with nothing which is heartbreaking when you consider just how hard she worked her whole life. She trained so hard for so many years every single day sometimes until she dropped and it was all for her father's love and it's all she ever wanted but eventually she found out he used her for his own gain and it was abuse. She sacrificed so much, her time, her friends, her family, her health. Her brain is altered and she couldn't maintain friendship or relationships her whole life which I'm sure got very lonely. She has no relationship with her brother anymore, her mother went back to him (we think although we dont know for sure) and she has had to completely unlearn everything she's ever known. In a way she gave everything to end up with nothing. Luckily she has Carina now who I think saved her in a way

That's pretty bleak, Anon! Yes, Maya has been through a lot, but she's accomplished so much in her life. She was the one who trained and won that Olympic medal. She was the one who went from lieutenant to captain, to be the youngest captain in Seattle and 19's first female captain. She is the one who has worked hard to get her life back on track after a breakdown. While we might not see it as much as we'd like, she considers 19 to be her family.

For sure, her relationship with Carina has made a big impact on her life. Falling in love has changed her and, as a fan of the character, it's been wonderul to see. But the only person who saved Maya was Maya.

[ofinfinitedreams]

His wandering hands upon her lithe body filled Paige with renewed vigor. To feel so wanted by someone was a feeling unlike no other. It filled her with a sense of satisfaction and sheer wonderment. How did she get so lucky? The brunette's body thrummed with excitement as she was overjoyed. She hummed blissfully, "always. It's because of you, so technically your fault," a low chuckle expelled from her lips. Her hands grasped the nape of his neck, her fingers playing with the soft tendrils of hair. The sensations he evoked as he peppered kisses along her jaw were intense. A sweet sigh rumbled from her mouth. "Good to know, dear brother. I try. But I have to say with you being slightly older…you're the bad influence on me," she teased as her own hands wandered over his back, committing every line and crevice to memory. Just thinking about what could've been, had they taken the time to explore their frowned upon relationship when they were in their teens, when their parents got married would be something else entirely perhaps. She nodded. "Oh," she blinked a few times. She hadn't thought much of the logistics, the rational side of things had flown out the window. All that mattered was him…and their children. "Well, I would have to agree with you, my love. I know you prefer your hometown than here. They won't be best pleased," she stated sadly, "but it sounds wonderul. I can't wait for a clean slate. With you..it will be," she murmured reassuringly.

Low mewls of pleasures emitted from her throat as she welcomed him into her warmth once more. Coming home always felt amazing. "Death by sex. What a way to go," she teased with playful grin appearing on her features, giving his backside a squeeze. "Mmm. You decide my love. My heart, body and soul is yours to do as you please," she muttered as her walls clenched firmly around his thick cock, rocking her hips against him.

His hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and dip as if committing it to memory.Cyril chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with desire as he gazed down at Paige. "You're insatiable, my love," he murmured, trailing kisses along her jawline. "But I wouldn't have it any other way.” Cyril quetly hummed. “hmm, my dear sister - you tease me to easily. It’s terrible how much we have infulences each other” he grinned, knowing had they not waited to be together that they would have brought more chaos in thier youth. He would imagine that they would have had a fair number of children already. It was better this way with settled careers, abled to hide thier relationship for a time.

“We still need to sort out a home together. And, I have to confess that I’d love to have our children in Ireland for a little while and then consider London. It might be easier considering our parents live here. It’ll take some time to get used to the idea we’ve ended up together. He whispered, running her fingers through his hair. "A fresh start for us, away from prying eyes but not to hide them but have some time for them to get used to the idea. I want it to be perfect for us” he murmured, nipping gently at her skin.

His hands slid down to grasp her hips, pulling her closer. Cyril groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "You'll be the death of me, Paige," he murmured, nipping gently at her skin as her hands moved down to his backside, his cock slowly entering her in a smooth motion.

His hands moved to tuck her hair back, smirking at the woman below him and kissed her jawline. “How do you want to play, my sweet sister?”

[ickle-ronnie]

an angry rant

I hate thinking about my family. I hate thinking about my life. I hate thinking about the past. I hate thinking about the future. I hate how dysfunctional our family is. A family where my parents don't even truly love each other. My dad says my mom isn't the woman he married. My mom says she would've been happy with anyone being her husband. I hate how my mom seems to fucking hate me most of the time and the time she doesn't, I do. I hate how she doesn't give a simple fuck about what I like. I hate how its always "when we were small.." Yes mom the fucking 20th century was different. I get it you were perfect. I hate how I can't talk to my dad about anything emotionally important to me and if I do, the embarrassment haunts me. I hate how I can't and don't talk to my older brother at all. How he's simply a stranger whom I share blood with. The second I try, I get made fun of or it ends in a fight. I sometimes loath how much better my younger sister gets treated but also see bits of younger me in her. I just know that after a few years my mom will treat her the same way and I pity her. You grow up basked in her love, giving it back too. And one day its ripped away from you and you can't do shit about it. I hate how lonely I am. I hate that I sit in a fucking room all day, scrolling, reading, dreaming. I hate how I'm a fucking bird in a cage. I can't go out because of my parents. I'm a girl in an Asian country they all say. Really, is that it? Then why can all the other girls do it? I envy them so so much. I envy them when they talk about their lovely families with their wonderful moms who wont slut shame them for wearing what they want or using a bit of fucking blush on their face. You know what I want to wear; fucking sweatpants in my OWN home. I have a father and brother, she says. What the fuck do you mean when it's allowed in our religion. My father and brother are fine with it, you're the one whose been sexualizing me since i was 10. The other girls so fucking pretty. Why do I look like this? They get to go out to movies and cafes and stay with their amazing friends. They talk to who they want and do whatever they want and they genuinely enjoy life. On the other hand i take a picture and wow, she's such a show-off. Why do they get to hang out with the people they love? They get to talk to their moms about boys they like and their mom doesn't hate them for it because she get's it. They get to giggle with their friends and get sweaters on the third of December and hold hands in the rain while I have to wait for stupid "one days"? While I'm a slut if I look in the direction of a guy at all. I'm fucking sick of people who actually DO HAVE NICE FAMILIES, WHO DO GET TO LIVE THEIR WONDERUL FUCKING LIVES tell me that 'one day it'll get better'. One day one day one day. I heard that when i was 6. I heard that when i was 13. I heard that yesterday. I hear that all the time. I'm sick of hearing that. You don't get it. I don't want it one day. I want it now; when it's all around me. I want it when I see friend groups pass by me having the time of their life. I want it when a girl asks me to hang out but I have to say no because I know I won't be allowed. I want it all the time. A simple walk in the park with my friend? Is that too much to ask for. By one day you mean, when I'm 30? When everyone around me has kids of their own and the thing I wanna do it go watch a movie for teenagers in the cinema because guess what! I never got to when I was actually supposed to.

[revelarete]

little did i know that today would be the day my noble human friend would help me get a pirate bandit girlfriend by dancing with both of us, twirling her into my arms, have all the animals in the area start singing while we danced, and then aiding me into dipping n kissing her.

[unicorncornflakes]

Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 12

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at him. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags:  Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes  manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know):  @thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter @chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasy @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond @imaloserbby @youngcomputerpuppy @aemondsfavouritebastard @cloudroomblog @queenofshinigamis @bluevxnus @wooya1224 @serving-targaryen-realness @darkenchantress @padfooteyes @mariannnavao @moonlightfoxx @jennifer0305 @ammo23 @iloveallmyboys @tempt-ress @bellameshipper @okfashionista @shelbyteller @dahlias-and-marigolds @the-knights-of-ne @bellaisasleep

Author´s note:  Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 5.7K

Acknowledgment: To @ammo23 for the brilliant corrections and the wonderull work as beta reader, for all the patience and the love that always shows to this story. I´m so grateful. Thank you so much :D

“I don't know what we can do. The drunken dragon always accepts our conditions. Always. That Stupid Aegon...” Gerolf Dayne, the oil magnate, the richest man in Starfall and the second richest man in Dorne, just behind the Martells, was smoking a cigar in that meeting room in King's Landing, at one of the most expensive and prestigious law firms in all of Westeros. “If now (Y/N) has stopped having her head on the clouds and wants to study a career, everything is fine with me. It was about time that she stopped those stupid dreams of wanting to be an artist," he took another puff, and Gerold, his eldest son, narrowed his violet eyes, annoyed.

"We have enough money, both us and the dragons, to do whatever she wants," your uncle said, getting up from the seat he occupied next to his father, who presided over the long table in the office. "Let her be what he wants to be; let her do what she wants."

"The only thing that worries me is that she has suddenly changed her mind. If she applied to Sunspear the same day, and then told me she didn't want to go, that she wanted to make a career here, I don't know. It worries me," your mother sighed, defeated, not understanding what was happening to you. You had always been firm in the things you wanted, in what you desired. And now all of them had gone to the capital for an emergency meeting so that they and their lawyers could talk about the conditions they would put in place in this new situation because that's how it had been all your life; conditions and more conditions imposed by the lawyers of one and the other, all imposed looking for what is supposedly best for you, but very rarely taking into account your own wishes. It had been like that all your life, and it would be like that until you finished college.

"It's normal for you to worry. It's your puppy." Gerolf smiled at his daughter; he had always had a soft spot for his little girl, even if she had disappointed him by marrying your father. His little girl had come home, leaving behind a lazy, terrible dragon. However, she had returned with a small setback for his father: You. You weren't a Dayne, you weren't a Targaryen… Did your grandfather love you? Sure, you were like your mother enough that he saw a little copy of his little girl, but he kept feeling like a failure. Had he brought up your mother so badly that she allowed herself to be tricked by your father? "But still, this meeting could have been settled with a fax machine: 'We don't accept dragon terms.' That's all I would have told them."

"I need to see her, Dad. I didn't feel like things were going well the last time I talked to her," your mother emphasized again. Your mother had only received a call from you, in which you had told her that you wanted to stay there, that you were fine, but even so, she had not been convinced. Something was up, and all her alarms had gone off when you told her you would be living at your father's house while studying at the university. That was not something your mother would condone under any circumstances.

"Besides, we have to talk about the question of changing her last name." Your uncle Gerold sat down next to his father, right in front of your mother, after looking out the window. “Before she left, it was what she wanted.”

"What?" your mother asked, surprised, almost worried. Because deep down, she knew that it would kill Aegon. Because deep down, she was still worried about your father, maybe she wasn't in love, but she was still fond of him. "I don't understand you. She has never told me anything like that."

“Well, she and I talked about it several times last year. When she came of age, we discussess wapping Targaryen for Dayne, and we're done with all this crap," Gerold said with a shrug as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Your mother looked at her older brother as if he was telling her something she had never expected, and your grandfather smiled with pleasure.

"I think it's great. After all, the ones who have been in charge of raising her have been us, not the dragons," he answered happily, at least in that you were a Dayne, an authentic girl from Starfall.

“That would break her father,” your mother said, almost afraid to speak, and her father looked at her, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well, Aegon might have thought the same thing when he fucked someone else while he was married to you. He could have thought about your heart…" he said it without any love, almost not believing what he was hearing from his daughter. It was terrible, too terrible. But, just as he was going to continue his speech, the meeting room door opened, and you appeared first, followed by Aemond, who seemed like a shadow of you. Your father followed him, and then Daeron appeared, who was chatting with the lawyer of your maternal family. Your mother was surprised to see you with a necklace of the heraldry of your paternal family, and Gerold smiled cheekily. So, in the end, the one-eyed dragon had fucked you, and that was his cheeky way of naming you as his own? Great.

"Mom", you ran into her arms, and your mother hugged you tight, not wanting to let go because she really didn't want to. She was just worried about you. She would never stop being, but all those changes were too much. Then you greeted your grandfather with a brief kiss. He responded with a loving smile, and again, you ran into Gerold's arms, who hugged you and simply whispered in your ear, "Are you finally flying dragons now?" He winked at you, then shook hands with Aemond, who had followed you across the room as the others greeted each other.

You blushed at his words while the others greeted each other. While Gerold and Aemond were talking, they had always been a good rapport between them even though Gerold called him an asshole behind Aemond’s back, you saw the scene that would mark the rest of your life. Your father reached out like a helpless puppy to your mother becauseif your mother was going to marry another man, your father would never get over it. He would always be in love with his Stargirl and would always live with the burden of knowing that he had destroyed the most beautiful thing he had. Your mother kissed him on the cheek, and Aegon smiled to himself; they exchanged a few more words that made your father smile, and your mother left him without looking back. She just sat in her seat while your father went to the other end of the table. This was what a love that could never be again felt like.

Although you were not physically present during those negotiations, they did involve topics that directly affected you. But this time your mother's family had demanded that you be present; after all, you were already of legal age, and what was said there would begin to mark your adult life.

"How about we sit down?" Your grandfather spoke with the deep voice that characterized him. "I would like to finish before lunchtime, " he said, and all the others sat at the table; at one end, the Targaryen’s; at the other, the Dayne’s. You went to sit next to Aemond when your maternal family's lawyer spoke. The best thing for everyone was that you sat in the middle of the table, without taking sides for any position and where you could not feel pressured by any of the parties. You looked at Aemond and saw his jaw clench, but he said nothing. You just sat in the middle of the table, almost as if you felt that the fight for you was just about to start and that you would always be the victim.

“I think you received our proposal. The one we sent out last night,” Daeron said, taking a seat between his brothers as your mother's lawyer did the same. Gregory Martell, one of the younger sons of Sunspear's owners and your mother's future brother-in-law, had always been devoted to your family's cause. After all, your custody and everything around it had fed his children for the last 17 years.

"Sure. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here," Gregory smiled and cleared his throat as he offered your uncle Gerold and your grandfather a copy of the proposal. Your mother almost seemed left out of the negotiations, but you could tell Daeron was doing the same. The only one with a copy of the conditions was Aemond, while Aegon stared at the ceiling and wiggled his leg in his seat. It seemed that your life had been directed entirely by your uncles and your grandfather as if your parents didn’t have a say.

"First, I'd like to talk to (Y/N) because we've gone from wanting to go to Sunspear to wanting to stay in King's Landing." Your Uncle Gerold put on his reading glasses, the kind he hated to wear in front of people who weren't his own family, but he still did it so as not to lose details of the new contract that your paternal family was trying to establish. "Why?" He looked at you seriously, expecting an argument bigger than the one he already knew. Now you were between Aemond's sheets,and he didn't care, but he needed a more convincing excuse than that. However, just before you spoke, Aemond cleared his throat.

"Why wouldn't she want to stay here? We are her family," he said feeling attacked, and Gerold smiled. Well, it was your boyfriend coming to your aid, but he needed to listen to you, not Aemond. "I think (Y/N) has reached a greater maturity this summer, where she has realized that she can have a bigger and brighter future if she stays at King's Landing College instead of going to Sunspear School of the Arts," Aemond said, almost relishing the stratagem he had concocted that bound you to his side. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye with a sad and indecisive grin, almost as if you felt that he had never liked the idea ​​of what you wanted to do with your life. As if he felt completely in control now of your life as well. You looked at the table under the watchful eye of your Uncle Gerold.

"Okay," your maternal grandfather replied, taking another drag on his cigar. Gerold looked at his father with a frown, almost as if he felt that his father didn't realize what was wrong with you. "Sunspear always seemed stupid to me. A career here will always be much better than five years of studying the arts, which will lead to nothing." You looked at him incredulously, as if you had never expected that from people who loved you, but that meeting was not normal, and neither were the reasons that had led you to be there.

"I don't think Sunspear is stupid," your father spoke, breaking the silence, and your mother followed shortly after.

"Of course not. If that's what you want (Y/N), we're here to support you." Your mother followed your father in her argument, and for the first time,you wanted them to stay together as many things would have changed. Your uncle Gerold sighed, and you saw Aemond's jaw clench again, not daring to look at you. You wondered what was going through his head. "Honey, don't change that decision because others think it's not something with a future", your mother spoke with affection, and your father followed her.

"Exactly," Aegon replied, nodding, and Aemond continued without looking at you. You only saw how he avoided eye contact with you, almost as if he regretted having asked you to make such a selfish sacrifice and that it seemed to be for his only benefit.

"This summer, a lot has happened and... I want to stay in King's Landing," you said in a whisper. "I'll study history and philosophy at the university here and…" your uncle Gerold laughed sarcastically while your mother looked at you incredulously.

“(Y/N), you've never been good at philosophy. I mean, you passed it, but you never got good grades in it," your mother said almost desperately, not understanding what was happening to you. Your uncle looked at you incredulously, almost as if he didn't believe what he was hearing from you.

“Uncle Aemond will help me with the admission and…” you started saying, but Gerold cut you off quickly.

"Aemond, how much do you have to do with this change of heart?" He said it almost as if he was trying to protect you again, as if he didn't like it anymore that you were flying with dragons instead of staying with them. If Aemond was going to control you, Gerold was not going to. He wanted to see you happy, not at Aemond's side, like a nice possession to show off to others.

"It's the only college where I could get her admitted, taking into account that the deadlines are already closed", your uncle put forward as an excuse. He didn't want to admit that it was the career he wanted for you, the hidden dream he'd always had, that you'd follow in his footsteps, that you'd manage to finish the doctorate that he had to give up to take care of the family after his father's death. "It is a good career and a good institution."

"Gods, did we only come here because you managed to sweet-talk her, Aemond?" Your mother sighed almost desperately while your uncle Gerold raised his fingers to his eyes and scratched them hard, almost fed up with that encounter. You had never been in a meeting like that, but you already saw how they were, how they had always been. A continuous fight between two sides that would never reach an understanding. Aemond was about to speak when you lashed out again.

"No, Mom. Really, it's what I want to do," you sighed, defeated; you wanted to stay there, next to Aemond. You didn't want to lose him, you couldn't. You were just freaking out at that meeting. You felt your heartbeat anguished. Why did everyone put you in that situation? "Please, can we continue?" you asked, and everyone in that gathering looked at each other.

"Perhaps, it would be better if you wait outside", Aemond said, addressing you as if you two were alone. You looked the other way, seeing how your mother looked at you confused and your uncle Gerold angry.

"It's okay. I just want to get this over with," you declared tiredly. You hadn't slept all night, and Aemond looked at you desperately, almost as if he was beginning to realize how far he had come in his selfishness.

"At this point, Gregory, bring out the conditions," your grandfather Gerolf spoke again, giving an order to his lawyer. The Martell opened his case taking out a new paper and handing a copy to Daeron and another to Aemond. Your father moved closer so he could read the one he'd given Daeron. Aemond read silently and laid the page contemptuously on the table, slumping back into his seat, utterly jaded.

"Whose brilliant idea was this?" Aemond took out a cigarette and put it to his lips, lit it with his Zippo and puffed on it, exhaling uncharacteristically through his mouth, almost as if he were angry and confused all over again. You were already beginning to understand how he acted every time he felt attacked.

"Mine." Your mother spoke, not looking at Aemond. He could never bear her. Never. The one-eyed man had always been driven crazy by her and on issues that referred to you even more so.

"How not?" Aemond replied, sneering at your mother as if he were the smartest in the room because He felt sorry for the rest, but Aemond Targaryen was superior to any of them.

"Does it bother you that you have to pay for your studies in full or that (Y/N) doesn't stay to live in the mansion?" Gerold came to his sister's defense and spoke, looking at Aemond, holding his gaze, daring him to speak. But your uncle was always talking; he was never silent. Dragons couldn't afford to be.

"I don't mind paying, it bothers me that you want to separate her from us", Aemond reproached your maternal family for that part, angry and furious "It almost seems like what you've always wanted to do. Separate her from what she is: a Targaryen."

“No, what I want is for my daughter to start making her life. Away from anyone who cuts their wings, away from people who always forget her birthdays," your mother replied, remembering that hurt. Her words were so true, but at the same time, so painful that you just wanted to cry while everyone ignored you in the name of your wellbeing. They fought against themselves in a fierce battle in which there would only be one loser.

"I do not agree with this clause," Aemond repeated again, ignoring all your mother's words.

"Me neither", replied your father, offended for the first time with his ex-wife. "(Y/N) is not so bad at home" Your father pushed you into the jaws of the dragon and locked you up without knowing it, thinking that you would be happier that way. You spent all your day with Aemond, and he always saw you happy; why wouldn't you be happy living in his home? He did not understand where those conditions came from.

"Perhaps a good measure would be that since we are going to pay the full amount of the studies, which we do not care about and which we will be happy to do, (Y/N) could live in the family home, as a measure of good faith" your uncle Daeron spoke with his lawyer speech and your mother did not remain silent.

"No, definitely not. We will take care of the cost of the place where she wants to live in King’s Landing, but she will not live with you. I'm sorry, but no," the daughter of the biggest oil tycoon, the woman who had never allowed herself to be tamed by anything or anyone, appeared again on the scene, ready to fight for the happiness of her puppy. "I refuse. We already made the concession that she changed her mind at the last moment, but not that she lives with you. No."

"We want (Y/N) to live where she will be close to the university, to develop as an independent entity, without family ties that can bind you," said Gregory Martell, explaining the wish of your maternal family. They only wanted for you what they had always wanted; that you be yourself, that you develop away from her last name, from your father's last name or from anything that could stop you from being yourself.

They continued arguing, much to your grandfather's chagrin, even after lunch. They continued until night fell. The session was left to continue the next day, waiting to find a solution to your situation. But you realized something, nobody asked you again what you wanted. You only saw your mother scream, Aemond clench his jaw every time she spoke, your uncle Gerold trying to control his sister, and your father staring at the ceiling in despair. That was your happy family, and it seemed that in it, you were nothing. Not a Dayne, not a Targaryen. Nothing.

"Do you have the dress yet?" you asked your mother, both lying in the hotel room that your maternal family had reserved at the last moment when they saw that the negotiations about your studies were dragging on. The two of you had dined alone in her room, although Aemond had taken you there, and he would be in charge of picking you up and taking you back to the family home. You knew that he was waiting for you in the hotel bar. You didn't know if he was patient or not, but at that moment, you needed to be with your mother.

"No, not yet. I would prefer that you come with me to see them, and there is still time," your mother told you, looking at the ceiling. She looked tiredat the end of the day. The truth was that the last thing on her mind at that moment was her wedding. You worried her even more. "You've barely eaten," she commented, looking now at your plate, which you had barely touched. She sat on the edge of the bed, and you followed her.

"It's just that I'm not hungry lately", you commented without much desire to talk. You just wanted to be with her. Having a moment of rest in what was now a roller coaster of emotions.

"If all this change is because of Cregan Stark..." she started to speak, blaming everything that was happening on what had happened with the northerner as if you wanted to stay there just to wait for Cregan to come back. You blushed. You barely thought about him; you would never do it again.

"No, Mom. It's just that I want to stay here. That's all," you replied, looking at the plate with empty eyes. The truth is that you didn't feel like eating, you hardly slept, and you only spent your days at the expense of what Aemond wanted. Was that the life you wanted to lead? No, but you were afraid of losing the person you loved.

"I need to understand why, honey. I need to know," she begged you to know, but you couldn't tell her. You couldn't tell her that you loved Aemond, that you just wanted to be by his side, that you needed him, that he was like the worst drug you were addicted to, that you adored when he undressed you and when he kissed you, that you were dying to be a single dawn away at his side… that you were simply in love.

"You wouldn't understand, Mom", you whispered to her, holding onto your knees, wanting to end the matter. They were all blind. No one saw what was happening, but the necklace that now hung from your neck made your mother begin to flake at an idea that she preferred to bury in the bottom of her heart. It was impossible for history to repeat itself, right?

"Get me the same, and get me the bill" Your uncle Gerold sat next to Aemond, took out his credit card and gave it to the waiter, much to Aemond's annoyance. The dragon narrowed his eye in annoyance. The last thing he wanted to do was talk or just see Gerold after arguing about you all day. Both sitting at the Hightower hotel's bar, Aemond took a silent sip of his whiskey while Gerold drank it in one go until almost finishing it.

"You didn't have to pay for it," Aemond commented, not looking at the Dornishman who now sat next to you.

"That's true. You have much more money than me. The three heads of the dragon came out in that interview," said the son of the oil magnate. His eyes would always seek to provoke Aemond, pushing him almost to his limit, yet this time when Aemond looked at him, Gerold only dank silently.

They both continued in silence for a long time, and Gerold watched with a smirk as Aemond looked at his expensive watch, waiting for you. The amount of time you had already been upstairs seemed excessive to him. Besides, he had decided to give you a surprise. After such a long day, he didn't think about taking you home to sleep. You would go to a hotel, you would make love until dawn, and he would whisper to you what a good girl you were. You always liked that. He took another swallow of his whiskey, why didn't you come down now?

"I don't think she is going to come go down anytime soon if it's any consolation," Gerold answered, seeing him look at the clock desperately. However, he frankly asked what the others refused to see. "How long have you two been fucking?" he asked bluntly, not looking at him, just taking a small sip of his whiskey as if it wasn't him.

"None of your business," Aemond replied, not flustered, not feeling like a monster. He was superior in every way to a man like Gerold. He wasn't going to feel threatened by him, he never would.

"I think at this point where she wants to give up her dreams for you, yes, it ismy business", he replied. His violet eyes locked on Aemond's one-eyed gaze. The dragon averted his eye from Gerold. He felt guilty. Having seen you as he had seen you in that meeting was proof that he would never be a good choice for you. It was too selfish, but he couldn't be without you. He did not imagine it. He could not. It was impossible for him.

"She can't leave King's Landing. She just can't." That was all Aemond told him, unable to say much more. He could never be weak, ever. Next to Gerold, in that bar, that was exactly what was happening, and he didn't feel comfortable with it.

The Dornishman took a swing of his drink and dared to speak. He would be the first and only one who would care about your true happiness. “I have a place, it’s not big nor luxurious, but the most loyal to me serve there," he said, shrugging. "It has a garden, and the main rooms face an inner courtyard where you could fuck her against the balustrade, and no one would ever know. Nobody."

Aemond looked at him in confusion and swallowed. He didn't want to accept his help, never would, and yet he knew you would be happier at Sunspear than you would be at home with him and the rest of the family. Gerold was showing him the perspective of what your life would really be like if you stayed in King’s Landing. You wouldn't eat, how long had you not eaten? You wouldn't sleep. You wouldn't be happy because it was being close to everything that trapped you and didn't let you breathe. Gerold was proposing a solution to both of you, a solution where you could be away from all prying eyes but together at the end of the day.

"You take a plane on Friday afternoon, and you leave on Monday morning. The two of you, in a new place, where you could be more than you are now.” Your Dornish uncle spoke again, wishing he was having an effect on the dragon.

"It's still Westeros," Aemond whispered to himself, taking another small swallow. The Dornishman's words cut deep into his heart. However, he did not trust Aemond Targaryen – he was not a being that could be trusted by anyone. "What do you want in exchange for this?" he spoke frankly since Aemond knew that favours pay off.

"May (Y/N) be happy, may this never be heard of... may the same thing as Rhaenyra not happen to her..." Gerold shrugged, remembering the scandal that had happened so many years ago. "I don't want anyone to find out, ever," he declared, getting up from the seat next to Aemond. "Think about it and leave a good tip for the waiter. You have more money than me," he sneered, leaving Aemond alone with his thoughts, only at the prospect of you being happier than you are now.

"Have you had anything for dinner?" Aemond finally spoke, and you looked at him with a smile, sitting on the terrace of that hotel room where he had taken you that night. You stretched out, your whole body half-naked in front of him, and he just smiled. That was how he liked you, in the moonlight, happy and radiant because you were with him, but something was missing. If you stayed on King's Landing, you would always be missing something.

"My mother ordered some dinner" You smiled at him, and he knelt in front of you, between your legs, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling at him, happy to have a moment like this after so long. "And have you had something to eat?"

"Well, the guy from the bar gave me some sweets with the whiskey", he confessed, knowing that this would make you laugh.

"Nooo, what are you doing eating that? They must have been years old," you replied, laughing and caressing his hair, and he laughed too. He kissed you sweetly, and you followed him, stretching your arms over his shoulders, letting yourself be carried away by such a quiet moment. At the end of the kiss, he just sighed and unhooked your bra, getting goosebumps all over your skin. His touch will always fascinate you. He buried his face in between your bare breasts, and you laughed. Aemond might be held in higher regard than other men, but in the end, they were all equal, and all did the same.

"Go to Sunspear. Never listen to me again when it comes to something that goes against what you want," he whispered to you, and you separated him from your body. You contemplated a surrendered man.

"Aemond..." you started saying, but he interrupted you again.

"I'll come to see you. I would travel the whole world to see you. But don't let me stop what you want to be. I need you to be happy. Much more than I need to be happy myself," he whispered to you again, and you didn't talk about it again. Nevermore. He wouldn't tell you about his conversation with your uncle Gerold, he never would. He wouldn't tell you that he planned to come to see you whenever he could, that in the house that Gerold had offered you, no one would see you, and… for a moment, he was excited at the thought that he could go hand in hand with you in a public place, although that was madness, a simple fantasy. But what do humans not live on, if not fantasies? And Aemond, at that moment, felt closer to men than to gods, despite being a Targaryen.

The next day, the new points and terms of your new change of mind were discussed. It was concluded that you would finally study at Sunspear, that your paternal family would be in charge of paying for the school for the coming years and that your maternal family would arrange everything for you to live in the house with a garden that Gerold had in the capital of the Martells.

Both parties reached the same agreement that they had prior to your previous change of mind, and your mother breathed easier as if that visit had been what you needed, and you smiled happily. The subject of the change of last name was something that was not discussed at that meeting at Gerold's insistence. He had understood that now you were more Targaryen than even your father. After all, you had succumbed to the same thing that all Targaryen’s ended up surrendering, the same taste for their own blood and lineage. But he didn't care, he wanted you to be happy without anyone finding out. And thanks to Gerold, relative peace returned. He would protect you; he would take care of you. However, no one saw how your face changed when you received an unexpected message: Cregan was returning to the capital. And you didn't know what you would tell him now that things would never be the same again.

Aemond remembered blood. He remembered the pain and the scream as he was hit. His mouth tasted of blood. The metallic, iron taste that ran through his throat as he sobbed. His nose couldn't get rid of the unmistakable scent of blood either. Like a deluded child, he thought his eye would be saved as he writhed on the floor. He was a stupid kid. Always  was.

Rhaenyra had no natural children, or at least it was what she always said to end up avoiding the shame of having given birth to three bastard children, who had nothing to do with the cousin she had married to gain the influence of the Velaryon. A fruitful union. In which the three bastard children that Rhaenyra had given birth to had been given as adopted. They had all believed it, or at least they had all pretended to believe it. Even Helaena, who had married one of them to her own nephew, but no one had said anything because they weren't Targaryen blood like them, were they? Hypocrites. They all danced to what Rhaenyra said, but that was another story. Another story that has nothing to do with that child who was writhing in anguish and pain on the floor. Or, perhaps a lot, but that was not what was happening to Aemond now.

Luke had attacked him. Aemond knew the truth as well as they did. That dirty truth that everyone was trying to hide. They were bastards and children of the pure and holy Rhaenyra, although they all tried to hide it, and Aemond was the only one brave enough to have said it out loud, or perhaps the most innocent and sincere of them all.

Still, there had been consequences. He had lost his eye for telling the truth, and it was not the pain of losing the eye that affected Aemond the most. It was afterwards, looking in the mirror, the memory of the hospital room where they had sewn him up, adolescence marked by a disfigured face... and the words of Daemon, his favourite uncle. He had said that he deserved it and had sided with the one who had gouged out his eye, and Aemond promised himself that in an act which one Targaryen had positioned himself against another would not go unpunished. Aemond Targaryen learned to be a vengeful man.

[fayes-fics]

OMG Eleanor.... I'm so glad you loved this and apologies that I'm so late with my reply to your epic feedback (I've been in writing mode and then I took time away from fic life), but THANK YOU. Herein are my nonsensical rambling response...

Chivalrous Ben is one of my fave Bens indeed and yes it's so Ben to be so cutting with words (he's a poet) rather than aggression.

I love Eloise, so of course she's going to gatekeep her brothers, bless her.

And yes I hurt my baby! Talk about growth bwhaha. But it wasn't much, I cant do anything but minor boo-boos (unlike you my angst queen) and only ever as a catalyst to a major shift in dynamic such as here.

I love the amazing video it inspired (HERE) thank you AGAIN for that, it's just wonderul and I am humbled my silly creative blurbs inspire other, better artists such as yourself. THANK YOU 😁🧡🧡

(Be)Longing

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

Warnings: None, really. Angst, jealousy, fluff. Shyness and insecurities. Minor character injuries. Time jumps.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill here (request: Benedict x shy!insecure reader, with some angst, jealousy fluff, and all the good stuff. Happy ending, of course.). Sorry it took so long to get to this Nonny; I have no idea if this is what you wanted, and I'm really not sure about it, but I hope you enjoy <3

I: Saved

“Unhand her at once!” 

The smooth, confident, older voice rings out across the village green, and suddenly the pack of nasty bullies who have your arms in a grip seem to melt away from around you.

You don’t even think to pause and thank the person who broke up the mob. No, your fight-or-flight response is in full-on flight mode. The minute your arms are released, and you see the break in the circle, you run. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Bolting down the road and into the safety of the churchyard near your house. You do not want to run home upset and worry your mother, so you do the next best thing, the thing you are becoming increasingly good at, hiding. You climb a crabapple tree. And then you let the tears flow—just flooding down your cheeks.

You hate this new village your parents have moved you to. Your father, a doctor, had been offered the position as village physician, and now here you are, moved from Surrey to Kent, but it might as well be the other side of the world. You miss your friends. You miss your old village. You are not the most outgoing of people, and the upheaval in your life has been immense. You yearn to be back in your old, familiar, comfortable home.

You are sniffling, taking deep breaths, angrily wiping tears, and preparing to face your family when he appears. 

“Are you alright?” 

You startle. Beneath you, squinting up into the tree, is the owner of the voice who rescued you. Seeing him now, you feel an odd warmth in your ribs. He looks older, maybe fifteen, if you had to guess. He seems benign with a calm face, and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.

“Yes,” you squeak quietly.

“It is safe for you to come down,” he says gently, “should you wish.”

“Are they gone?” you query, wishing you could hide the tremble in your voice.

“They will not bother you again; I can assure you,” he states with absolute certainty.

Your eyes go wide, “What did you do? I don't want to make it worse for my brother,” you fret.

“I told them if they mess with you again, they will have the Bridgerton brothers to contend with,” he nods, with an air that suggests the name is of some local import.

“Is that you?” you ask timidly, not wanting to get down from the tree just yet.

He chuckles. “You must be new here?”

“Yes… we just moved here two weeks ago. Those boys have been tormenting my brother since his first day at school. They appear to have chosen me to pick on as he is not around,” you frown, dusting a twig from your skirt.

“Well, that ends now. Now, do you need help down?” he asks.

“No,” you sniffle, “I am capable.”

“I wouldn't doubt it,” he nods politely and steps aside to allow you space to jump down.

With a quick swing, you do so, landing neatly on your little brown boots. You unfurl to your full standing height, but even then, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.

“Very impressive,” he smiles warmly. “I am Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton. Welcome to Kent.” he thrusts out a hand to shake and, bemused at the formality, you take it and shake as if a businessman, not a ten-year-old girl.

“Thank you, Benedict. I am y/n y/l/n. My father is the new physician,” you gesture vaguely over the church wall towards your home next to the rectory.

“Ahhh,” he nods in understanding.

“And thank you,” you curtsy.

“Whatever for?” he frowns.

“For rescuing me,” you clarify.

“Oh please, that was nothing,” he waves dismissively. “I cannot abide bullies. Or any injustice really,” his eyes appear briefly unfixed, and he looks thoughtful, as if what he said just occurred to him as truth. Then he shakes his head and brings his attention back to you. “You are alright, though, correct? Able to get home?”

“Yes,” you confirm shyly.

“Then I shall be on my way” he tips an imaginary cap at you that makes you giggle, and he smiles goofily before turning away and walking out of the churchyard.

A little part of your heart yearns to follow him, the boy with the hazy, kind eyes and the pleasing smile, who just made your transition into life in the area much more bearable. 

You and your brother are never bothered by that gang of boys again.

II: Envy

“Y/n, this is Miss Clarissa Worthing.” 

Benedict introduces you to the willowy blonde whose hand is looped through the crook of his arm.

“Clarissa, this is Miss y/n y/l/n. She will beat half of my family at Pall Mall once you can coax her out of her shell,” he teases delicately with a friendly glint in his eye that makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

Clarissa nods in cool acknowledgement, then cranes her neck to whisper something, her lips brushing his earlobe, her regard for you already gone. You curtsy politely, smile weakly and scurry away, feeling clumsy and out of place, unsure of what else to say to this swan-like beauty. 

It's the summer after your fifteenth birthday, and he is back from his second year of university. It doesn't take much to deduce that this is the lady he is currently courting, accompanying him as she is to a garden party at Aubrey Hall. Jealousy clings to your skin like an invisible oily substance and taints your every thought.

Ever since that fateful day when he chased away your bullies, you have carried a torch for Benedict. The year after that incident, you sadly have to attend his father's funeral. Your own father unable to save the Viscount’s life. The forlornness on Benedict’s face as he stood there in the chilly church made your chest ache. You didn’t fully understand why at the time, but your impulse was to go up and wordlessly hold his hand. He looked so utterly unmoored and sad. You didn't, of course; you would never be so bold, but the impulse was so strong, a tingle on your palm that needed to touch him. It was all you could think about for days.

Over the intervening years, your soft spot for him grew with every encounter, the childish admiration morphing into something stronger, a deep-rooted longing. He always seemed to be the one who cared the most—about his siblings, his mum, and even the problems of the wider world. And as your body started to change and you began to feel differently about boys, your feelings for him had another layer of confusing complexity. His was the first face that popped into your head when your friends giggled about boys and talked of marriage. 

Even now, it seems ridiculous to entertain that he would ever pursue you… you are stuck in small village life, the daughter of a doctor, not from a noble family, and he is off in the world, experiencing things you have no notion of. And yet he is the only man you have ever met who intrigues you that way. The idea of marriage not being entirely abhorrent, provided it is to him.

And so you just watch—the perpetual wallflower. Watch as Benedict and Clarissa make the circuit of the party. Effortlessly chatting among various members of the Ton, looking like the picture-perfect young couple.

“Makes you sick, doesn't it?” Eloise’s dry tone pops over your shoulder. 

You smile at Benedict's little sister, just a couple of years younger than you and a kindred spirit at these events, mostly wanting nothing to do with them.

“She is very beautiful,” you offer politely, sipping your lemonade.

“She steals,” Eloise states plainly, making you splutter your drink all over your face and dress, the little immediate crowd of attention it draws to you mortifying. Luckily Benefict is far enough away and otherwise engaged that he does not see it. You are not sure you could live that down.

“That's a scandalous thing to say,” you hiss softly as you blush under the attention of a few strangers and furtively clean yourself with a serviette as best you can.

“Tell that to mother’s silk gloves,” Eloise volleys back, her disgust evident. Apparently oblivious to your embarrassing predicament or perhaps just uncaring of what others think. “She will be gone before the weekend is out, mark my words.”

You don't doubt it, knowing how spirited Eloise is. And how well she has her brother's ear. You know he will instinctively trust what she says as truth. As she marches up to grab his arm and pull him away, mostly, you wish you had more of her bravado, her fearlessness. While you agree with her outlook on many things, you are not built of the mettle she is—not one who draws attention. Still, you watch with a twisted, guilty, but victorious smile as Eloise pulls Benedict aside and has words with him. 

You never hear of Miss Clarissa Worthing again.

III: Jealousy

“Lord Boswell would be a wonderful match, my dear,” your mother smiles encouragingly, handing you a slice of lemon drizzle cake. 

You can't hide the curl of your lip at the mere thought. 

It's the morning after the first ball of the season, just after your twentieth birthday, and you are in the London townhouse your parents have rented for the season, awaiting any suitors to call. Less than three days into your first season, you want the merry-go-round to stop. A dizzying whirl of social engagements you feel unequipped to deal with, wanting nothing more than to be back in Kent, stealing into the grounds of Aubrey Hall with a good book. Perhaps even spend time with Benedict.

Just the very thought of him causes a flare in your belly. Since his return from his studies in Cambridge, he has seemingly moved to Aubrey Hall full-time, spending his days painting the Kentish countryside with hopes of establishing himself as an artist. You have spent more time together in the last year or so than ever before, often finding yourself reading quietly in the shade with Eloise as he paints nearby, his company always somehow a balm as much as a thrill. And it feels as if there has been a subtle shift in how he regards you, giving you the unbearable lightness of hope. Perhaps he sees you in a different light now that you have come of age, no longer the child you were. There have been some moments where he has looked at you and felt it, like a weight on your skin; even as you doubt many other things about yourself, you don't doubt there is something there—a most wondrous and perplexing development.

Your butler bustles in and announces something that makes your heart leap into your throat.

“Mr Benedict Bridgerton has arrived.”

Your mother's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, giving you a sideways glance. A Bridgerton, even if not the Viscount, would be more than sufficient in her eyes. Especially one known so well to your family.

“To call on Miss y/l/n?” your mother asks, excitement evident in the breathy question.

“Oh no, ma’am, apologies. To see your husband. His brother, the Viscount, has dispatched him here to talk about some business in Kent,” your butler explains, somewhat apologetic as he realises the misconstrued intent.

Your mother’s disappointed face is only a match for your roiling stomach. 

Your father folds his newspaper and jumps up. “I shall meet with him in my study, Jenkins. Please show him there,” and with a nod to you both, he leaves.

It has been just two days since your presentation to the Queen. That had been a waking nightmare. Parading down a long hallway at the Palace to be presented to her majesty filled you with utter dread. All eyes upon you, your every move and inch of appearance judged, and you are certain you were found lacking. Your status is unknown in the Ton; your parents pushing you into the season, hoping for an advantageous match. But you feel they could tell from one look where you belonged—almost invisible, on the periphery, a wallflower. Quiet, reserved, bookish, watching more than participating.

“Lord Boswell is here,” your butler reenters the room moments later.

Your stomach clenches. Your mother can barely contain her glee. You are so confused; you barely spoke two words to the man as you danced the previous night. Your conversation skills were utterly lacking, and he seemingly could not find an engaging topic to broach. You were keen for the music to end so you could return to standing and observing. You cannot believe that awkward interaction would be enough to propel the man to call on you, having said so little to each other just a few hours earlier. And yet here he is, a bunch of flowers in hand and a slightly vacant smile. The fleeting thought of marrying such a dull person makes you mildly nauseated.

Your mother hurries to the other side of the parlour and leaves you to converse, wearing a happy, hopeful expression that you hate to dash. And so you stumble the best you can through small talk. He talks of the weather, his property, and his interests but never asks anything about you—as if he is a candidate for a job you are interviewing for. In some ways, that is perhaps accurate, but part of you yearns for him to show interest in you, not just talk incessantly of himself.

Just as you give up hope of escaping anytime soon, you startle as he lays a hand on yours on the sofa between you. You don't even hear what he is saying anymore, just staring at where his glove covers yours, not liking the sensation, wanting to claw yourself away and withdraw. 

Motion in the doorway makes you look up; Benedict is with your father. And suddenly, your heart is racing. Benedict looks taken aback; something sour in his expression you have never seen before makes you want to run to him and ask what is wrong. But you don't. You do the polite, reserved thing and smile.

“Mrs y/l/n, Lord Boswell,” he greets politely. “Miss y/l/n,” he adds, and you could swear he uses a different, lower register. Something inside you turns pulpy and ripe, blossoming just for him. 

Before you know it, he has taken a seat on the sofa facing yours, shooting you the tiniest of winks that could be an eye twitch, but you know him better than that—seeing the sparkle of mischief in his eye. Your parents seem to exchange nonplussed glances, uncertain why he has chosen to stay.

“Boswell,” Benedict begins, shooting the man his most impervious glance. “What of your qualities make you an ideal suitor for Miss y/l/n here?” he questions.

Boswell splutters and seems taken aback, clearly not expecting such an interrogation, especially from a man who isn't your father or brother. Benedict’s eyes are back on you as the man stumbles through an inadequate and entirely uninteresting response that you do not even listen to. Your whole focus is on Benedict, feeling unable to breathe.

“Hmmm,” Benedict hums as he ends, “and what have you to say about Miss y/l/n’s interests? Are they perhaps complimentary to yours?”

“I… I did not think to ask,” Boswell falters, his cheeks reddening at the faux pas.

Benedict looks almost disgusted. 

“You claim to be interested in providing your suit but ask nothing of what makes her the wonderful person she is?” he scolds, and your mouth opens into a little O of surprise. “Have you not asked her about her excellent marksmanship? How she can shoot an archery target better than anyone else within ten miles of Aubrey Hall? Have you not asked after her artistic skills? You see that cushion you sit next to? That is the work of her fair hand.”

You barely register as Boswell twists to look at the item and then at you; you have eyes for no one but Benedict as he continues, his voice loud and clear even over the sound of your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“Have you asked her about her love for literature and poetry? How she will correct you that it was, in fact, Guildenstern, not Rosencrantz, who enters first in the first folio version of Hamlet?” 

You duck your head and blush. That is precisely what you did to him last year, surprising even yourself with your boldness. And he remembers. 

He continues. “Have you asked about her love of animals? Perhaps you need to hear the tale of Mr Whiskers and how she was able to nurse the beloved cat of my sister Hyacinth back to health. You have not asked her of any such things?!?” his tone incredulous.

Even from the corner of your eye, you can tell that your parents’ faces are as shocked as Boswell’s. And suddenly, you recognise this as a Benedict Bridgerton you have seen before. It’s the one that comes out when defending those he loves against injustice or an unworthy opponent—the staunch guardian. 

“If you cannot find it in yourself to show such interest, I would hope she will entertain better suitors,” Benedict sniffs dismissively. “As a long-term friend, I cannot in all good conscience allow this young woman to be pursued by anyone unworthy of her,” he concludes cuttingly, his nostrils flare, and his lip curls just a fraction as his eyes flit to where Boswell’s hand still rests upon yours.

Even as you struggle through your jumble of thoughts about everything he has said, one question so singular strikes you. Is this is Benedict….. jealous?? Jealous of your suitor? Finding ways to cut into him with his precise knowledge about you? The thought seems so fanciful that you want to dismiss it, but the sliver of possibility it offers is exhilarating. Just the chance of it being true has you utterly undone.

You barely even listen as your father jumps up and, with some belated sense of defence, agrees with Mr Bridgerton and asks Boswell if perhaps he should take his leave and return another day when he has thought of more engaging things to ask of you. Every fibre of your being yearns to talk to Benedict somewhere private, but he gives excuses to leave as quickly as your chastised suitor is dispatched.

Boswell never darkens your door again.

IV:  Rescue

“Penny, for your thoughts,” Eloise smirks as she catches you staring into space on the terrace. Your cheeks blush, and you do not admit to where your thoughts had wandered—to her older brother.

“Will you come with me for a walk?” you ask, feeling the need to get away before you cross paths with the man who has occupied your thoughts more often than not of late.

It’s the week of the midsummer Hearts & Flowers ball at Aubrey Hall, and you are glad to have escaped the hubbub of the London scene and to be back in Kent for a few days' respite.

“No, I would prefer the company of Mary Shelley this afternoon,” she states airily, waving a book she holds.

So you set off alone, walking the grounds you now know so well. You are half an hour into your stroll, admiring the wildflowers along the eastern fringes of the grounds, not far from the village, when you see him approaching in the distance.

Benedict is riding his trusty horse and looks so majestic your chest constricts. Clothed in just a billowing white shirt and beige britches, you have rarely seen him look so informal. Or so very, very attractive. Your palms feel sweaty, and something stirs deep inside your body as you slink slightly into the treeline, hoping to remain unseen. A chance to merely observe this beautiful man, even knowing it is wrong to do so. To spy on him as such. Just as he draws close enough that you can see the flex of his leg muscles under the material, which causes all sorts of sensations in your body, a startled deer darts across the path and spooks his horse.

Time seems to slow as you watch his horse rear up and make the most terrible whinny of fear. 

And then your heart is in your throat as you watch horrified as Benedict loses his grip on the reins in surprise and is thrown violently backwards to the ground.

Bile rises in your throat as you see how his body hits the dirt path, unable to brace for impact. The air fills with a blood-curdling scream that you belatedly realise is your own, and before you know it, you are sprinting. Sprinting towards him. Your whole focus narrows to his body splayed on the ground, worryingly still, as his horse bolts away. Heart pumping wildly and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pull up to him and skid to your knees.

He is still conscious but barely. Moaning slightly. 

“Do not move!” You bark, and even in his woozy state, he appears taken aback by your ferocity. “I mean it, Benedict!” you bite out as he attempts to move his arm.

He seems to mumble a noise of ascent as you try your best to assess any injuries, having learned some things from observing your father over the years, but you realise he needs proper medical attention. Where you are on the grounds, it’s closer to your home than Aubrey Hall.

“I am going to get my father,” you explain as calmly as you can, “for the love of God, Benedict, do NOT attempt to move until he gets here.”

A wan smile spreads across his face even as he winces in pain. “Hmm, fine. I promise to stay still,” he sighs, “....prefer to do it for the love of you…,” he mutters slurringly before he appears to pass out.

Knowing he has likely struck his head, you try your darndest to put what he said out of your mind. A head injury would be the only way to explain such a comment, even as you are praying he doesn't have one. 

Heart still beating out of control, and not knowing what possesses you, you lean over and press the quickest shyest of kisses onto his lips—pulling back a few inches before he can even acknowledge it happened.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, Benedict Bridgerton,” you whisper fiercely, just in time to see his eyes pop open, hazy and clouded with something you have never seen before. It’s not the pain he is in, though. And it’s not confusion, amusement or even irritation. It’s something else, so blisteringly intense your legs want to turn to jelly.

“I won’t, I promise,” he attests, his tone rough, ragged.

There are a couple of seconds where all you do is stare wildly at each other, and then, with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you take off running. You have never run so far and so fast in your life; fear makes your muscles work harder than they ever have before. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.

Your parents almost burst out of their skins in shock as you barrel into the house, panting wildly, wordlessly grabbing your father's medicine bag, and he reflexively springs into action. 

You run to the stables and hurriedly hook up the long cart he uses when he needs to transport patients, and the look he shoots you is filled with concern.

“Who is it?” he asks as you climb aboard and direct him.

“Benedict,” you tremble, and there is a world of understanding in your father's eyes as he cracks the whip, and the horse jolts faster. 

Perhaps your adoration is less concealed than you like to believe, but at this moment, you only care about getting him the help he needs. You are grateful your father doesn’t ask questions as you speed along. 

And it becomes a blur as you reach the site, grateful Benedict laid still as you requested. Your father examines him and fires questions that are answered lucidly, tending to some immediate wounds and bandaging in places. Before you know it, you are helping your father with a canvas stretcher and insisting on sitting with Benedict in the back of the cart as your father takes the patient back to Aubrey Hall. 

Never addressing the fact that you grip each other's hands so tight that both of your knuckles go white.

V: Belonging

“You can come in.”

Benedict’s voice calls out, bemused as you vacillate in the doorway, not realising that he can see you in a mirror reflection. 

So at his invitation, you blush and scuttle into his room. Awkward, unsure what to do after your bold, daring, downright impertinent behaviour when he sustained his injuries. Part of you is hopeful he does not remember it.

It’s been two days, and he has made excellent progress under your father's watchful eye. The minute your father had pulled up at the house, you dropped your hold on his hand. And as word spread, it was a frenzy of activity that you found yourself superfluous to. The last you had seen was Benedict being carried inside for a more thorough examination.

Luckily, it turns out he has no lasting damage; his head was uninjured beyond a mild concussion. He is bruised all over, likely has some cracked ribs and has a sprained wrist, but he will be fine after some rest.

“H.. how are you?” your ask quietly, stilted, fiddling with your dress nervously.

“Much better,” his tone soft, “only because of you.”

You look up and meet his gentle gaze. “I merely did what anyone would have done,” you demure.

“Nonsense,” he counters, “you ordered me to stay still and await the doctor. If you weren’t there, I likely would have done myself additional injury being stubborn,” he points out dryly.

You don’t know what to say in response, so you change tack. “Is your horse alright?”

“Yes. Colin found him wandering around the wildflower meadow, munching on all manner of grasses. Never happier, completely uninjured,” he assures.

You nod, glad to hear the news. Then you allow the room to lapse into silence, unsure how to commence your profuse apology.

“I am very sor….”

He stops you with a bandaged hand held up.

“If you even begin to apologise for saving me, well then I shall be most vexed,” he chides, but there is no heat there, a lopsided grin tugging at his handsome features. “Besides, the more pertinent point of discussion is the fearless woman you can be when needed. The person you are becoming, when you allow yourself to, is quite something,” you bow your head as your cheeks heat at his praise. “I would have injured myself months before now had I known I would meet the creature who sits behind that cloud of shyness. Just look at what you did, taking change so very effectively,” he flatters then there is a pause. “Hell, even being brave enough to kiss me.” 

Your head shoots up, and your mouth falls open.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “don’t think I forgot that part,” His voice has lowered to a pitch that buzzes right through your being.

“I… I was worried I… I was going to lose you,” you stutter, “and I-I’m sorry that was terrible of me to take liberties like that. Please, please forgive me?” you beseech.

“It was not in any sense of the word terrible,” he disputes, “the exact opposite. There is nothing to forgive. But there is one way you can make it up to me…?” he hedges.

“Anything, please,” you beg, so hopeful of absolution.

He holds out his hands and gestures for you to perch on the bed beside him. Almost without thought, you do so, even as you feel your pulse speeding up. You have rarely been this close, and now you are transfixed by all the tiny flecks of colour in his iris and the hints of stubble around his jaw.

“Kiss me again,” he requests; a finger trails lightly over the back of your hand. “But properly this time. Give me a chance to kiss you back.”

You just gawp at him in utter shock, heart pounding again, just like it was that day. You don't move away. You can't. Rooted to the spot. Unable to stop staring at his plush bottom lip.

“You cannot mean it…” you stutter when you finally find your tongue, disbelieving.

“Does this seem like I do not mean it?” he argues ardently, and before you know it, he is sitting up and leaning in.

And then warm lips touch yours, and fireworks explode inside your chest. 

You feel like you are drowning in the very best way as your lips move together gently. Everything about the moment is sweet and light, but promising more, something tart that makes you want to climb atop him and crush yourself against him. Just as you feel the instinct to open your mouth to him, he pulls back, looking lost and found all at once.

“I need you to know something,” he begins, grabbing both your hands and placing them between his. “It pains me to see you ever doubting yourself or if you belong. You belong. Everywhere you go. You have so much to give to the world,” he states passionately.

“I… “ you falter, wanting to believe him, the version of you he sees.

“You do. Hell, you give me a reason to get up every day. To try. To be better. I would not be the artist I am now were it not for your words of encouragement as I painted all those afternoons.”

You are dumbstruck. You honestly didn't believe he was taking on board what you said. Mostly just encouraging him to follow his instincts when he seemed to doubt them.

“And now it’s time someone did the same for you. Be the encouragement you need. You deserve everything, y/n. And it would be my greatest honour to try to give it to you?” he adds, a gently loving smile lighting up his face. 

Your heart sings as you realise this is the declaration you have been waiting half of your life to hear. Before you can stop yourself, you launch yourself at him, this time being the one to demand a kiss that he happily obliges. 

“I have a question,” you state as your lips part, your boldness growing with every moment. “Mr Bridgerton, were you jealous when I had a suitor?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. “My god, you have no idea.”  You cant help the victorious giggle, basking in the fizz in your veins.

“I suppose it was payback for Ms Worthing. She of the ironic name. She was never worthy of you,” you state passionately.

He laughs with a headshake. “Perhaps it is our ability to rescue each other that makes us so best suited,” he opines. “I do believe we may belong together,” he adds.

And you couldn't agree more.

In fact, you are never alone again from that day on.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[lostkrbkaccount]

Married krbk

Baku: okay which one of you brats broke Emi's doll?

Kiri: Katsuro did-

Katsuro: you fucking snitch!

Baku: why the fuck did you break it?

Katsuro: ugh I was angry, Okay? She laughed at me when I tripped over-

Baku: so you fucking ripped the head off her All Might doll?

Katsuro: yeah?

Baku: *sighs* go say sorry.

Katsuro: but she-

Baku: now.

Katsuro: *huffs* fiiiine

Emi: *sniffles*

Kiri: aww it's Okay, dada can sew his head back on..

Baku: you bet your ass I can.

Katsuro: Emi, I'm sorry I hurt your dolly. It'll never happen again.

Kiri: Emi don't you wanna say sorry too, princess?

Emi: for what?

Kiri: for laughing at him

Emi: otay- I'm sorry for laughing at you Katsuro. Forgive me?

Katsuro: yes, forgive me?

Emi: yep. Love you!

Katsuro: gross.

Baku: you brat, say you love your sister.

Katsuro: I love you to or whatever

Kiri: they're so wonderul

Baku: I know.

[north-peach]

Hi! I just wanted to say, I just reread your and @wolfdrainrules fem!Ichigo work and may I just say,,, PLEASE. i was just,,, experiencing the full range of human emotion and I'm pretty sure I cried bc of how good it was. Ichigo making sure to emphasize, several times, to the Gotei that she was not under their command and did not obey their rules was pure Perfection. Also im crying at Ichigo being who she is bc holy shit. This fic barred no arms and took no hostages and I love it so much. (1/2)

(2/2) Thank you so much for writing and sharing this fic and all the wonderulness in it with us! Also I just have SO MANY thoughts about it and how much Goat-Face sucks and I really want to spin-hook-kick his ass into the ground rn. ANYWAY. I love your fic, Ichigo is a Queen, her people are awesome and I love to see them, the Gotei is ehhh atm, and Im vibing with (almost, by which I mean Isshin) everything thats happening. Thank you again!!! <3<3<3<3

That one is probably going to be one of the first ones I start working on again as I am now transitioning back into a civilian life and have time for all the things.

I have no many ideas and although I haven't opened Google Docs back up, I'm sure I have a lot of notes to go through.

Probably going to rewatch Bleach again, especially since Thousand Year Blood War is being animated-!!!

Yes, Isshin is my least favorite character as a father. It's weird because if he had been introduced from when he was young and a Shinigami with Masaki, he'd be cool.

But then they made him...the way he is and now he's just trash. Like, wow, that was a nice character you had before you chucked him into the dumpster and set it on fire.

Thanks for the love, sorry for however long it took to get back to you. Honestly it could have been almost a year already and I am so sorry.

Hit me up again, would love to hear from you when I start updating!

[staceyannaevans]

Who is your hero?

Personally that I know? Just everyone in my family. They're so strong, and determined, and loving, and really can come through when needed.

Celeb wise? Brie Larson. Not only is she smoking hot, and a wonderful actress, but she also stands up for important things, and calls things out when needed. I know there are people who hate on her for those things, and it's a shame.

What makes you laugh the most?

So much makes me laugh, though I am week for a god bad dad joke.

Would you rather trade intelligence for looks or looks for intelligence?

Well I'm blessed I have both, so I don't need to trade either! Just a humble brag. But really I would rather of course have intelligence, but intelligence just doesn't have to be book smarts. It can be emotional intelligence too.

Are you an introvert or an extrovert?

It really depends on the mood. I consider mysel to be both, sometimes I can be very introveted and want to just be alone, or others I want to be around people and hang out.

Who knows you the best?

I would think my brothers know each other pretty well, and Brooke. I've really opened up to her, and vice versa. She's wonderul. I'm truly blessed to have them all in my life.

How many languages do you speak?

Only one natively, though I have been using DuoLingo to teach myself French since September. I'd like to think I'm coming along well. Bonjour je m'appelle Stacey. Je viens de Ohio, et j'habite à Los Angeles.

On a scale of 1-10 how funny would you say you are?

A 10,000. But reall I don't knw really. I like think I'm pretty funny. I'm not nearly as funny as the Late Queen Betty White, and I couldn't do  a stand up show to sve my life, but I think I am pretty funny.

Which of the five senses would you say is your strongest?

I'm not sure really. Perhaps sound? Which is perhaps more of a tragedy when you can hear muffings ouf sounds you don't want to.

Who would you want to play you in a movie of your life?

Brie Larson, girly... Where are you? I mean it would just give me an excuse to meet her and be in the presence of greatness.

What’s your favorite holiday?

I am cheating because I have two. Halloween and Christmas. Halloween is fun because you can dress up, and be someone different for a night. Plus an excuse to pig out on candy. Christmas I love buying stuff for others and being around my family. It can be such a stressful holiday, and there is a lot of bad that can come with it, but it can also be quite beautiful for those that do celebrate it.