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dira333 · 15 hours ago

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All tricks, one treat - Suna Rintarou x Reader

cupid - for @moochiwoochi for the Milestone Event Week 1

“So, uh, what’s your type?”

You lift your head to stare at the waiter. “What?”

“Your type,” he sends you a cheeky grin. “What is it?”

“Not you.”

His grin widens. “Kinda figured that out already but thank you. So, your type?”

“What’s this?” You eye him before leaning to the side to eye his twin at the counter, shaping Onigiri. “Does he know you’re doing this?”

“No, lean back, will you?”

You smirk, turning your head but not leaning back. “And what will that get me?”

“I’ll pay for your drinks, now lean back.”

You smile as you settle back in your chair. “In that case, I’ll take another one. You know what I’m drinking anyway.”

He sighs. “Listen,” he checks if his brother’s paying attention before turning around. “I have this friend that would be amazing for you, but he’s a little-”

“No.”

“You haven’t even let me finish.”

“I’m not letting you set me up with anyone.”

“Fine,” he huffs, “Your loss.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

“No, Atsumu,” you cut him off this week before he can offer you the usual. “I don’t want to be set up.”

“But you’re single, right?”

You grumble under your breath but his grin is persistent and so is he.

“Fine,” you huff quietly. “I am single. But so are you, right?”

“Temporarily,” he tells you with confidence. “How about I invite him here, no pressure, and you can check if you even like him. He won’t even know we’ve talked about this before.”

“You’re as subtle as a Tiger trying to play Giraffe.”

“That’s an awful comparison.”

You shrug and take your usual seat, waving at Osamu to let him know you’re here.

You’re pretty sure Atsumu’s not going to give up just like that.

“He’s here,” Atsumu announces one week later.

“Who? Your replacement? Why are you dressed as a waiter when you don’t even work here anymore?”

“I’m helping out,” Atsumu hisses, but he’s quick to get back on track. “My friend, the one I mentioned. He’s here.”

“Pease don’t tell me-”

“Oh, hi Bokkun.” Atsumu’s face is one big smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Bokkun, or Bokuto, as he introduces himself, smiles just as big. “Good to see you too!”

You have to admit, he’s good-looking, though he almost upturns your table as he tries to pull Atsumu into a bone-crushing hug right in front of you.

You look around for a different table, locking eyes with a guy in the next booth over.

His eyes glow like yellow diamonds and he gives you a lazy smile that could mean absolutely everything and nothing at the same time.

Embarrassed, you turn back to the commotion in front of you.

“Bokkun, this is a friend of mine. Do you wanna sit with her while I get us something to eat?”

You watch helplessly as Bokuto takes that offer, grinning back at you from the other side of the table.

Sure he’s cute, but he reminds you of a Golden Retriever whereas you’ve always been more of a black cat type of girl.

He immediately begins to talk, telling you all about today’s training and the shenanigans he and Atsumu get into on the daily when all you’ve wanted was a quiet dinner after work.

Looking for help your eyes wander around the restaurant, soon finding yourself eye-to-eye with your booth neighbor again.

“Need help?” He mouths wordlessly. You nod.

He gets up and walks over.

“I’m sorry,” he leans in, cutting Bokuto off and your thoughts as well. He’s even prettier this close. “I might be wrong, but don’t we know each other?”

“Yes,” you grasp that excuse with both hands. “Middle School, right? What was your name again? You sat in front of me, I think.”

“Suna. Suna Rintarō.” His handshake is firm and reassuring. “I’d love to catch up, but if you’re occupied-” He gestures at Bokuto who doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“Oh, Bokuto here is a friend of the waiter, I think. He was just sitting with me to keep me company, but I’m sure he won’t mind. Right, Bokuto-san?”

“Right?” He answers, a little confused.

“Well in that case,” Suna points at his booth and you take your escape as quick as your legs allow.

Suna, as it turns out, is just as fun as he’s helpful, making you giggle with comments about his own teammates - apparently you don’t have anything against volleyball players, you just have something against Atsumu Miya.

“I’m gonna be right back,” you tell him an hour into what feels like a date before heading to the bathroom.

When you return, Atsumu’s bright blond hair is shining like a beacon from the booth you just left.

Sighing inwardly you try your best to sneak up to him undetected.

“For the last time, Tsumu, I’m not interested in meeting the girl you want to set me up with. I came here tonight because I wanted to eat Onigiri and also I just met someone I like-”

“You’re not listening to me-”

“Atsumu Miya,” you interrupt him, satisfied when he jumps at the sound of his own name. “I do think you need to learn some boundaries. We don’t want your useless help!”

Atsumu gapes at the two of you for a whole second before he gathers himself, cackling. “You guys don’t understand. I was setting up the two of you and it looks like it worked.”

You blink. Suna groans.

“But what about Bokuto?”

“Distraction,” Atsumu grins. “You would have hated Suna if I had introduced him to you. But you like him now, am I right? Heh?”

You glare at him, unable to look over at Suna now who sighs.

“Tsumu, you have one chance to leave this booth right now or I’ll start sharing that one video from High School that you begged me to delete.”

Panic flashes over Atsumu’s face as he gets up. “I’m gone, I’m gone!”

But even as he seemingly vanishes into thin air, you can’t relax after this.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you tell Suna without really looking at him. You can see that he’s nodding.

“Me too. He’s going to hold this over our heads forever.”

“Mhm.”

“So… dessert?”

When you blink up at him now, he’s grinning, sly and lazy and very appealing.

“I do like you, you know. Atsumu be damned,” he mutters, sliding one hand over the table to take yours.

“Fine,” you say, more to yourself than to him, before you slide into the booth once more. “But I’ll pick the dessert.”

And from the way his knee knocks into yours under the table you know he knows you feel the same way about this.

A little conflicted, a little relieved, and a whole lotta interested.

#my writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #haikyuu!!#suna rintarou #suna fluff #suna x reader #miya atsumu #bokuto kotarou #atsumu is cupid #this was better in my head #hope you still like it

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graynvmbr · 2 days ago

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Heart of the Hollow | Harry Potter

pairing: harry james potter x female!reader (no use of y/n)

summary: family life with Harry

word count: 3.5k

The morning sun crept over the cottage in Godric's Hollow, casting soft beams across the bedroom where Harry lay peacefully beside you. His face, softened in sleep, held the same quiet intensity that had always drawn you to him. His hair fell messily over his forehead, and one hand remained loosely entwined with yours from the night before. You couldn’t resist tracing a gentle finger along his knuckles, feeling a surge of warmth at the small contented sigh he let out in response.

Before long, a small, familiar sound floated down the hallway: Lily was awake, her soft coos signalling she was ready for her morning feed. You slipped out of bed, reluctant to disturb Harry but eager to tend to your youngest. As you crept toward the nursery, you glanced back to find Harry’s eyes now partially open, a sleepy smile playing on his lips.

"Is she up already?" he murmured, rubbing his eyes. “I swear, she must sense you’re awake the second you are.”

“She knows what she wants,” you said with a smile, leaning over to brush his messy hair back. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

You padded softly down the hall to Lily’s room, her coos turning to delighted gurgles the moment you lifted her from her crib, her tiny face lighting up with recognition. “Good morning, my sweet girl,” you whispered, cradling her close as you settled into the rocking chair by the window. Lily latched on easily, her little fingers curling around yours, and you savoured the gentle sounds she made as she nursed, her wide, trusting eyes locked on you. You could hear the faint creak of the bed and soft footsteps padding down the hallway as Harry rose to start the morning.

When you made it to the kitchen, Harry was already up, moving about with the ease of someone who had made a habit of early mornings and breakfast routines. Soon, the smell of pancakes and hot chocolate filled the kitchen, making the cottage feel even cosier.

“Good morning to my two favourite girls,” he said, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your forehead before turning back to the stove. “Want some hot chocolate, or tea?”

“Some tea would be lovely.” you felt Lily shift in your arms, her little face brightening as she took in the cosy kitchen, her eyes wide with wonder. Just then, two sets of footsteps pattered down the stairs as James and Will made their way into the kitchen, both boys still in their pyjamas, but wide awake. At six, James was always the first to spring into action, darting over to Harry’s side to ask, “Daddy, can I help with breakfast?” He was quick to start mixing the batter, his determination and eagerness making you smile. James had inherited Harry’s adventurous spirit, always brimming with energy and ideas. You often found him with an imaginative “quest” in mind, ready to take on the world—qualities that made him his father’s son through and through.

Will, on the other hand, stayed close to your side, reaching up for a hug as he shyly took in the morning scene. At four, he was more reserved than his brother, his quiet presence a soft, gentle contrast to James’ exuberance. As you balanced Lily in one arm, you wrapped the other around Will’s shoulders, feeling his little body relax against you. His sensitivity made him especially attuned to his family, and he tended to linger nearby, content just to be close. “James, you want to help set the table with your brother?” Harry suggested, handing him a couple of plates. James took them eagerly, marching to the table with a serious expression.

“Come on, Will,” James said, beckoning his younger brother with a grin. “We have a big mission this morning!”

Will’s face brightened, and he looked to you for encouragement. You gave him a nod, and he scampered off after James, who was already arranging the plates with a soldier’s precision.

Once the table was set, everyone gathered around for breakfast. Harry poured you a cup of tea, his hand lingering on yours with a warmth that spread through you. James, always eager, launched into a story about his plans for the morning, complete with sweeping gestures and sound effects, while Will listened intently, a small smile on his face as he took in every detail. Little Lily, now in your lap, watched her brothers with wide eyes, content to be part of the family’s lively breakfast.

“I’m going to build a huge fortress in the living room,” he announced with excitement, his hands flying in wide arcs as he described it. “It’ll be so strong, no dark wizard could ever get through!”

Harry grinned, nodding encouragingly. “That sounds like an impressive fortress, Jamie. You’ll have to show me when I get back.”

Will listened intently to his brother, his eyes wide with admiration. “Can I help, James?” he asked quietly, and James nodded with a proud grin.

“Of course! Every fortress needs a good guard,” he declared happily.

Lily watched her brothers with wide eyes from your lap, her small hands reaching out occasionally as if trying to join in on the conversation. You stroked her soft hair, feeling a wave of warmth at the sight of your family, all together in this little kitchen.

When breakfast was over, Harry kissed each of the kids goodbye before pulling you aside, his hand resting gently against your cheek as he met your gaze. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised, his voice soft. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You leaned into him, savouring the quiet intimacy of the moment, before reluctantly letting him go. As he left for the Auror office, you settled in with the kids for the day, Lily nestled comfortably in her bassinet in the living room while you worked at the desk, grading assignments and responding to owls from your colleagues.

James, ever the adventurer, spent the morning flitting around the living room, narrating his latest “mission” to protect the family from invisible “dark wizards.” Lily watched with fascination, her tiny face following his every move.

“Look out, Mum! Dark wizard on the left!” James called, darting in front of you with his “wand” at the ready—a stick he’d picked up from the garden the other day.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here, Jamie!” you replied with a laugh, playing along. “Whatever would we do without such a brave protector?”

James beamed at you, puffing out his chest. “Don’t worry, Mummy. I’ll keep everyone safe.”

Meanwhile, Will played quietly nearby, stacking blocks and arranging toys in neat rows. Occasionally, he glanced over at Lily, reaching out to gently pat her hand, his soft-spoken nature drawing a smile from you.

When lunchtime arrived, you called everyone to the kitchen and settled them around the table. James, still caught up in his imaginary world, dove right into his food, barely pausing between bites to add more details to his story. “Even heroes need to eat,” he announced. Will listened intently, a quiet smile on his face as he looked between you and his brother. Little Lily was nestled in her high chair beside you, making soft sounds as she kicked her legs happily.

In the afternoon, the garden called to you, so you bundled up the children and stepped outside. James immediately took off running, his laughter filling the air as he explored each corner of the garden, his boundless energy sparking with every step. Will, as usual, stayed close, his small hand wrapped around yours, taking comfort in your presence. Occasionally, he glanced up at Lily, who you held close in a soft wrap against your chest, her curious eyes following her big brother’s every move.

James bounded up to you after a while, his face flushed with excitement. “Mummy! Look at all the leaves!” he said, gesturing to a pile of autumn leaves in the corner of the yard. “Can we jump in them?”

You nodded with a grin. “Go for it, love. But remember to be careful!”

With a whoop of joy, James dashed forward, flinging himself into the pile with abandon. Will, more hesitant, looked up at you with a questioning smile. “You can jump too, Will. Go on,” you encouraged him, squeezing his hand.

Will smiled, letting go of your hand as he joined James in the leaf pile. They both rolled around, laughing and tossing leaves in the air, their faces lit up with pure joy. Lily watched them intently from her spot in the wrap, her little fists waving as if she wanted to join in.

As the sun began to dip lower, you brought everyone back inside just as Harry returned home. The kids’ voices filled the air with shouts of “Daddy!” as they ran to greet him.

“Hey, everyone!” Harry said, kneeling down to pull both boys into a hug. He listened patiently as James launched into a spirited retelling of his “fortress-building” mission, nodding with genuine admiration. Will shyly tugged on Harry’s sleeve, guiding him over to a small tower of blocks he’d built. shyly asking him to see a small tower he’d built. Harry, with his usual attentiveness, listened to each of them in turn, offering an encouraging word or an affectionate squeeze of the hand.

You took the chance to prepare dinner, listening to their voices from the kitchen. Every so often, you glanced over to see Harry helping the boys with a new game or lifting Lily into his arms, making her giggle with delight. Seeing him with the children—so gentle and attentive—never failed to warm you, a reminder of all the qualities that had made you fall in love with him years ago.

Once dinner was ready, you all gathered around the table, laughter and conversation filling the air as you shared the day’s stories. James was still in “protector” mode, describing his “battle” against the “dark wizards” with great enthusiasm. Harry played along, nodding seriously as if every word was of the utmost importance.

After dinner, you led the boys upstairs, their footsteps pattering along the hardwood floor as they eagerly bounded toward the bathroom. Bath time was one of their favourite parts of the evening—a chance to wind down from the day, splash around, and fill the room with laughter.

In the bathroom, you filled the tub, the warm water quickly steaming up the small room. James, always the adventurous one, tossed his bath toys first—a few little boats, a rubber duck, and a miniature dragon he’d brought in as his “protector.” Will, more thoughtful and gentle, placed his toys in carefully, lining them up along the edge of the tub.

James was the first to hop in, splashing the water with a mischievous grin. “Look, Mum! I’m a sea monster!” he shouted, thrashing his arms around dramatically.

“Oh no, a sea monster! What are we going to do?” you teased, trying to shield yourself from the water that was already starting to splash over the sides.

Will, watching his brother, gave a small smile, then picked up the rubber duck and held it in front of James. “But there’s a hero duck to stop the sea monster!” he said, his quiet voice full of conviction.

“Ah! The hero duck!” James played along, pretending to dive underwater to escape the rubber duck’s “attack,” which set both of them giggling.

Meanwhile, Harry came in, carrying Lily in one arm. He chuckled at the sight of James, who had resurfaced dramatically with his best “monster face.” Harry gave a small laugh, bouncing Lily a bit to keep her entertained. “You sure you’re not scaring your sister, James?”

James grinned up at his father, his eyes bright. “She’s not scared of anything, Daddy! She’s like… the bravest baby ever!”

You chuckled, reaching out to pat his head. “Well, lucky for us, we’ve got plenty of brave protectors around here.”

After bath time, you dried Will off first, wrapping him in his favourite soft, fluffy towel. He snuggled close, looking up at you with sleepy eyes, clearly ready for the cosiness of bedtime. Whilst you took Will to his room, Harry stayed in the bathroom with James and Lily.

Carrying Will to his room, you felt his little arms wrap tighter around your neck, and he gave a contented sigh as you settled him into bed. As soon as he was under the covers, he scooted over to make room for you, his hand patting the bed invitingly.

“Mummy, will you tell me the story about the wise owl?” he asked, his voice a sleepy whisper as he clutched his favourite stuffed hippogriff.

You smiled and lay down beside him, tucking the blankets around him as you began. “Once upon a time, in the heart of a magical forest, there was an old, wise owl named Olwyn who knew all the secrets of the trees and stars…”

As you spoke, Will’s eyes grew wide, his little hand reaching for yours. You let him hold your fingers, his grip soft but firm, a gentle reminder of his trust in you. Every so often, he’d interrupt, asking in a hushed voice, “Did Olwyn really see the dragon?” or “What did the stars tell him?” You could see his love for stories blossoming, just as yours had as a child.

After a few more questions, his eyes finally started to droop, and he snuggled deeper under his blankets, still holding your hand. You stayed there, quietly humming a lullaby until his breathing grew slow and steady.

With a gentle kiss on his forehead, you whispered, “Sweet dreams, my wise little owl.” You slipped out of his room, softly closing the door, his peaceful face lingering in your mind as you made your way to James’ room.

James, of course, was still awake, lying under his covers but clearly wide-eyed and waiting. He shot you a grin the moment you entered.

“Mum! Can we talk about the Dragon Quest tonight?” he whispered excitedly, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.

You sat down beside him, returning his eager smile. “Of course! So, tell me, brave dragon-slayer, what’s the plan?”

James’ eyes sparkled as he launched into the details of his “mission” to rescue the golden scales and protect the kingdom. His hands waved in the air as he animatedly described how he’d outwit the goblins and cross the enchanted river without falling in.

Harry appeared in the doorway, catching the last of James’ “plans,” and leaned against the doorframe, chuckling. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, Jamie,” he said, crossing over to ruffle his son’s hair.

James grinned up at his dad, pleased to have both of you there. “Daddy, maybe one day you can come with me! I could show you all the secret passages.”

“I’d be honoured,” Harry said with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you.

Together, the two of you listened as James drifted further into his fantasy world, his excitement mellowing as sleep began to pull him in. When his eyes finally grew heavy, you bent down to kiss his forehead.

“Goodnight, my brave knight,” you whispered, gently brushing a lock of hair from his face.

Finally, you returned to the nursery, where Lily was awake and waiting for her final feeding, her tiny hands reaching up the moment you stepped into the room. She gave a small, happy coo as you lifted her into your arms, already content with the warmth of your presence.

Settling into the rocking chair, you began to nurse her, her tiny fingers curling around yours as she looked up at you with wide, trusting eyes. Her soft, sleepy sounds filled the quiet room, and you rocked back and forth, humming softly as she fed, the peacefulness of the moment settling over both of you.

When she’d had her fill, you cradled her against your chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing as she drifted to sleep. You lingered there, savouring the sweet scent of her hair, the warmth of her tiny body nestled close, until you knew she was completely asleep.

With the gentlest touch, you laid her down in her crib, brushing a tender kiss on her forehead. You stood by her crib for a moment, watching her sleep, feeling a quiet sense of awe at the love you felt for each of them and an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this life, this home, this family.

Once the kids were finally tucked in, you returned to the living room, feeling the soft, calming warmth that settled over the house. Harry was waiting on the couch, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. He opened his arms, inviting you to nestle beside him, and you sank into his embrace, letting out a sigh as you relaxed into his warmth.

Harry wrapped an arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer as you settled in. For a while, you both simply sat in comfortable silence, listening to the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional creak of the old cottage. His hand traced gentle circles along your back, the familiar, grounding touch melting away the last remnants of the day’s busyness.

“It’s quiet now,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, with a smile that held a mix of exhaustion and contentment. “Almost feels strange, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, laughing softly. “Too quiet, but a good kind of quiet.”

Harry tilted his head, giving you that affectionate look that always made your heart skip a beat. “You were amazing today,” he said, his voice sincere. “With all of them. They’re so lucky to have you.”

You looked up, catching his gaze. “We’re both lucky, Harry. I couldn’t do any of it without you.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long, tender moment. Then he pulled back slightly, his green eyes soft and searching as they met yours.

“Remember when we used to talk about this?” he asked quietly, his hand finding yours and entwining your fingers together. “All those late nights, dreaming of what life would be like. Never thought it’d be… this perfect, though.”

You gave his hand a squeeze, feeling a swell of emotion as you thought back to those conversations, those shared dreams. “We really did talk about it all, didn’t we?” You smiled, remembering the wonder you both felt at imagining a life so full, yet so simple and grounded in love.

For a while, you both reminisced, sharing soft laughs and whispered stories, the little moments you’d almost forgotten. Harry shifted slightly, reaching to pull a blanket over the both of you, settling it around your shoulders and pulling you closer.

Eventually, his hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing a tender line along your jaw as he looked at you with that deep, quiet intensity that always seemed to reach right into your heart. “I love you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, tender kiss. There was no rush, just a quiet passion, a warmth that spoke of all the love and history you’d built together. His fingers moved gently through your hair, cradling your head as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer as if to savour every second.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads resting together, you felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand. His thumb traced gentle circles along the back of your hand, and you felt entirely wrapped up in him, in the shared closeness of the moment.

Harry brushed a few stray hairs back from your face, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder as he looked at you, a soft smile playing at his lips. “What would we do without these little moments?” he murmured, his voice warm and filled with a kind of wonder.

“Get a little more sleep, probably,” you teased, a playful grin spreading across your face.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t trade it. Not for anything.”

After a few quiet moments of gentle conversation, you both grew quiet again, simply resting in each other’s arms. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your shoulder, your breaths settling into an easy, shared rhythm as you let the peacefulness wash over you.

Finally, he scooped you into his arms, lifting you as he stood, and with a smile, he carried you to bed, where you nestled under the covers together. With his arms wrapped securely around you and your head resting on his chest, you drifted off to sleep, feeling a deep, contented love that only seemed to grow with every shared moment.

back to my masterlist

#daniel radcliffe x reader #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #female!reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry james potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter fluff

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kckt88 · 1 day ago

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Scorched Hearts XII

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

After a confrontation with Daemon, Valaena reveals details of her past with Aemond.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Confrontation, Reminicising, Memories, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Lactation Kink, Fingering, Oral Sex, Smut, P in V, Semi Public, Caught Having Sex.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4300 (Bit of short one).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena sat beneath the shade of a blossoming tree, the gentle sounds of her children’s laughter filling the garden as Rhaegar and Elaena chased one another in wide, happy circles.

Daenys sat beside Lirri, babbling loudly as she clapped her little hands, her laughter and copious amounts of drool bubbled up as Arro watched over them, a protective shadow nearby.

The hatchlings, Sapphyre, Hūra and Valerion, stretched out in the sun, their wings unfurled to catch the warm rays, with Sapphyre’s watchful eye never leaving Rhaegar.

Above, Valaena caught sight of a large shadow sweeping over the garden—the unmistakable form of Vhagar, gliding through the sky.

Behind her followed Sunfyre, Tessarion, and Dreamfyre, their scaled bodies glinting in the sunlight.

Valaena couldn’t help but smile, thinking of Aemond and his siblings soaring together through the sky, reconnecting in a way that only dragon riders could.

“You have mothers glow my lady” said Lirri softly.

“I-I do?” asked Valaena smiling as she gently rubbed her swollen stomach.

“Yes, I can see why my lord likes to plant seed”

“Lirri-” gasped Valaena blushing.

Rhaegar then trotted up to her, proudly holding out his hand. “Look, Mama. Look!” he exclaimed, a tiny red-and-black insect resting on his palm.

“Oh, how beautiful. Do you know what it is?” Valaena said, leaning towards her son.

“No mama. What is it?” said Rhaegar shaking his head.

“Its called a lady bird”

Rhaegar scrunched his face in confusion. “But birds have feathers,” he said, studying the little bug.

Valaena chuckled softly. “I know, sweetling. But this one isn’t a bird it’s a type of beetle, it’s just named a ladybird,” she explained.

Elaena skipped over; her violet eyes bright as she looked down at her brother’s discovery. “It’s pretty,” she said in awe, reaching out a small finger.

The ladybird crawled delicately over Rhaegar’s hand, and he giggled, his eyes shining. “It tickles, Mama!”

“Did you know that there are some people who say that if a ladybird lands on you, flies off and then lands on another, then that person will be your true love,” Valaena said, smiling as Rhaegar’s eyes grew round with wonder.

“Really?” he asked, wide-eyed.

Valaena nodded, watching the gentle creature as it crawled. “And you see those little spots on her back?” she continued. “People say that’s how old they are. Would you like to count them?”

Rhaegar and Elaena leaned in together, counting in hushed tones as Valaena pointed. “I count five,” she said.

Rhaegar’s face lit up with a delighted grin. “She’s the same age as me!”

“She is,” Valaena agreed.

Rhaegar looked down at the beetle with fondness. “I want to keep her,” he whispered.

Valaena smoothed a hand over his silver hair. “She’s a living creature, my darling, and she needs to be free. She might even have a family somewhere, waiting for her. You wouldn’t want to keep her from them, would you?”

Rhaegar shook his head, his expression turning serious. “No, Mama.”

Valaena placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “That’s my good boy.”

Together, they watched as the ladybird spread her wings and fluttered into the air, a small red-and-black dot vanishing into the blue.

Rhaegar and Elaena both waved after her, calling out little goodbyes.

But then Valaena felt a presence and looked up to find Daemon standing nearby, watching her.

His expression was unreadable as his gaze shifted from her to her children, lingering on each in turn before settling back on her.

After a few minutes of silent observation, Daemon approached, his gait slow and steady, but Sapphyre alerted by the presence of a stranger snarled loudly, his eyes narrowing with warning.

Rhaegar stepped in, his small voice calm but firm as he commanded, "Lykirī, Sapphyre." Sapphyre’s tail lashed the ground hard, and his teeth were bared but he quickly obeyed, moving to shield his rider. (Be Calm).

Hūra, too, positioned herself protectively in front of Elaena, who clutched her blankey, watching Daemon warily.

Valaena rose, brushing the grass from her skirts, her expression sharp as she turned to Lirri.

"Would you please take the children back to their chambers?"

"Yes, my lady," Lirri replied, scooping Daenys up and offering a hand to Elaena.

With a final scathing glare at Daemon, Rhaegar called, "Māzīs, Sapphyre-" (Come).

As the dragons followed the children, Sapphyre’s gaze locked onto Daemon, viciously snapping at him as he passed.

Only when they were gone did Valaena face Daemon fully, her arms crossing over her chest.

Daemon broke the silence first, his tone stiff. "That boy of yours has a strong bond with his dragon."

Valaena’s eyes were hard. "What do you want, Daemon?"

Daemon shifted, letting out a slow sigh. "I came to apologize for last night. I didn’t mean—"

"-Drunk words are sober thoughts," Valaena cut him off coldly. "You meant every fucking word."

Daemon’s jaw tightened. "Of all the men you could’ve fallen for, why did it have to be him?" he asked, his voice betraying an edge of frustration.

She scoffed. "Does your hatred of Otto Hightower run so deep that you would scorn Aemond without even giving him a chance?”

Daemon’s gaze darkened. “Otto Hightower was a fucking cunt,” he spat, the venom evident in his tone.

"And, I suppose, you believe Aemond to be the same," Valaena shot back.

“That one eyed cunt lured you away from your family” snapped Daemon.

“When are you going to get it through your head that we did what we did because there was no other way for us to be together, you made that perfectly clear when you opened your big mouth last night”

“You allowed yourself to be manipulated-”

“When will you realise that I’m not some weakling maiden who is so easily seduced by sweetened words whispered in my ear” said Valaena.

“He is a slithering green snake who saw an opportunity and he took it” exclaimed Daemon.

“-Why can’t you accept that I’m capable of making my own fucking choices?" snapped Valaena

Daemon sighed, his voice strained. "Valaena, I—"

But she raised a hand, silencing him.

“Arro” said Valaena firmly.

Arro appeared almost instantly, quickly stepping into the garden from the terrace. “Yes, Princess”

"Will you remove this loathsome cur from my sight."

Arro nodded. “Of course, my lady.” He turned to Daemon, his stance firm and unyielding. “This way, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon’s lips thinned, but he turned on his heel and began to walk away.

He had almost reached the edge of the garden when Valaena called, "-Oh and Daemon." He stopped, looking back with an unreadable expression.

"Stay away from my children." Her voice was unyielding, and her gaze unwavering.

Daemon held her gaze for a long, tense moment before he turned and disappeared from the garden without another word.

Valaena sat beside her mother, her fingers tracing absent patterns along her dress, a small ache in her chest as she spoke.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Mother," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the wall "But I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the only man I’ll ever love."

Rhaenyra took her daughter’s hand, her touch warm and gentle. "I know," she whispered, giving Valaena’s hand a small squeeze. Her eyes softened with grief held close. "But thinking I’d lost another daughter-it was a pain beyond anything I’ve ever known. Even when I was young, when I lost my own mother-it never hurt like that-"

Valaena’s gaze softened. "Mother-"

Rhaenyra’s voice wavered, just slightly. "For ten days, I searched for you. I needed to know-to see with my own eyes if you were truly gone, to see of any trace lingered-"

Valaena’s eyes softened. “My cloak-”

Rhaenyra nodded. “It washed up on the shore,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. She reached into her sleeve and produced the broken silver dragon chain, placing it in Valaena’s palm. “I found this, too.”

Valaena’s fingers closed around it, the cool metal familiar in her hand. “You kept it.”

“I couldn’t part with it,” Rhaenyra admitted.

“Mother-”

“-I remember when I first gave it to you—right after you claimed Silverwing.” Her lips curved in a bittersweet smile. “You cried because it was too large for you, but you grew into it soon enough.”

Valaena laughed softly, the memory easing the ache in her chest.

Rhaenyra reached forward, tucking a loose strand of Valaena’s dark hair behind her ear with a tenderness that only a mother could have.

“I know Daemon’s words were harsh,” she continued. “But please, try to forgive him.”

Valaena shook her head. “But he—”

Rhaenyra interrupted, a sadness in her gaze. “In truth, your death hit Daemon harder than he’s ever let on. Having a favourite among one’s children isn’t something one should admit out loud, but you were his. He loved you fiercely, Valaena.”

Valaena’s face softened, though confusion lingered in her eyes. “Then why didn’t he just say that?”

Rhaenyra sighed. “You know how Daemon is. It’s easier for him to show anger than love, especially when he’s hurting.”

Valaena stared at the broken chain, brushing her fingers over the tarnished silver links.

“But why all the anger at Aemond?” Valaena asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed together as she thought. “He needs someone to blame. And unfortunately, Aemond is his target.”

“But it’s not Aemond’s fault,” Valaena insisted, exasperated.

Rhaenyra squeezed her hand. “I know that, and so do you. But Daemon has convinced himself that Aemond manipulated you into faking your death.” She scoffed, giving her daughter a knowing smile. “But I know my girl, and there’s no way you would have fallen for such a thing. You are more dragon than most.”

Valaena smiled wryly. “It’s a pity Daemon doesn’t share that same sentiment.”

“I think he still sees you as that little girl who once begged him to teach her how to wield a sword or how to sneak extra helpings of pudding at dinner-"

Valaena smiles at the memory “But it still doesn’t absolve him of the horrible things he said about Aemond”

Rhaenyra shook her head, a bemused smile on her lips. "Oh, don’t you worry my girl there are many ways I can punish him for his slanders,

Valaena wrinkled her nose. "I’m not sure I want to know what that entails."

Rhaenyra laughed, giving her daughter a knowing look. "Oh, don’t be so coy, Valaena. You’re a mother now; you know the workings between a man and wife."

Valaena blushed, smiling in spite of herself. "In all fairness, Mother, I was doing those things with Aemond long before we became husband and wife."

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow, glancing around to make sure they were alone before she leaned in closer. "And how is it, between the two of you? Is he a giving lover?"

A deep blush crept over Valaena’s cheeks. "Are we really having this conversation?"

"Why not?" Rhaenyra grinned. "You’re my daughter; we can talk about anything. So, is he?"

A soft, shy smile played on Valaena’s lips. "Yes. Aemond is very giving."

Rhaenyra laughed, delighted. "It feels good to be desired does it not?”

Valaena nods “Yes, its certainly does”

Rhaenyra reached for a cup of wine and offered one to Valaena who politely declined, she then took a deep breath “So tell me about you and Aemond-”

Valaena’s eyes sparkled as she watched her mother lean in, her curiosity piqued. "What do you want to know, Mother?" she asked with a soft laugh.

Rhaenyra took a moment to consider. "When was your first kiss?"

Valaena’s gaze grew distant, a gentle smile appearing on her lips as she recalled the memory. “It was just before you took us to Dragonstone. We went to the weirwood tree, and he promised me that when we were grown, we’d get married” She paused, a light blush colouring her cheeks. “-And then we kissed. It was only a quick peck on the lips, but it was the first.”

Rhaenyra smiled, both tender and amused. "You were so young then.”

Valaena’s blush deepened. “Yes, but it meant everything at the time.”

Rhaenyra seemed to study her daughter’s face, taking in the depth of her emotions. “And after Driftmark?” she asked carefully. “How did your friendship survive?”

“Aemond knew I wasn’t to blame for what happened,” Valaena replied softly. “He knew I tried to help him. For a while, it was just letters—our way of staying close. I’d write to him, and he’d write back-”

“How did you manage to keep that quiet, surely I would have noticed your regular correspondence?”

“Oh, well I would send them under the guise of writing to Helaena, and it was Maester Gerardys who would send them for me, until I got a little older anyway and then I sent them myself and I may or may not have said if anyone found out then I’d feed them to Silverwing-”

“Maester Gerardys?” asked Rhaenyra her eyebrows raised.

“Yes. He’s a good man mother” replied Valaena.

“I know he is. So how did the relationship between you and Aemond progress?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft with curiosity.

“When I was old enough to ride Silverwing on my own, we would arrange to meet in secret,” Valaena said, a wistful smile playing at her lips.

“So that’s where you would disappear too” said Rhaenyra wistfully.

“In the beginning we just spent time with each other, he struggled a lot after he lost his eye. Small things were harder for him, and there were times where I would just read to him, or he’d lie with his head in my lap while I stroked his hair.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened. “I never knew the extent of his suffering-”

Valaena met her mother’s eyes with a gentle but pointed look. “Because you didn’t want to.”

Rhaenyra’s lips parted, a faint regret shadowing her gaze. “And then?”

“One night, he came to me crying,” Valaena said, her voice a whisper. “Aegon had taken him to a brothel and paid the madame to lay with him.”

Rhaenyra gasped, covering her mouth. “He was only a boy-”

“Yes,” Valaena replied, her tone tinged with sadness. “He was so disgusted with himself, and he told me that he didn’t want to see me anymore. He was afraid that he’d taint me, that he was no longer worthy. But I refused to let him go”.

Rhaenyra reached out and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Oh, my sweet girl.”

“All I wanted was for him to trust me and he did”

“You must have meant a great deal to him,” said Rhaenyra.

“I’d like to think so”

“When did things change between the two of you?” asked Rhaenyra.

“It started off with little things at first, like holding hands as we sat together or he would put his arm around me when I read to him, we would even spar with one another from time to time-wooden swords of course but the fact that he didn’t just see me as a girl, but a worthy opponent meant the world-”

“-Carry on” urged Rhaenyra, her chin resting upon her hand as she listened.

“One day we were sparring and he tripped me, but I was determined that I wasn’t going to go down alone, so I grabbed him and pulled him down with me, we landed in a heap in the sand, we started laughing and then he kissed me” said Valaena fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

“And the first time between the two of you?”

“We first laid together just after I turned five and ten-”

Rhaenyra’s brows lifted slightly, concern mingling with curiosity. “And you were alright?”

“Yes. He was gentle, patient and nervous, but it was something that we both wanted”

“That’s good” whispered Rhaenyra.

“Yes, Mother-he took care of me” Valaena’s expression softened with the memory. “After that we learned about each other together, but we soon realized that we needed somewhere private to be-just us, and that’s how we found our place”

“Our place?” Rhaenyra repeated with a curious soft smile.

Valaena chuckled. “There was an old cabin near Wendwater. It wasn’t in the best shape, but we spent time fixing it up, making it something liveable” She paused. “-But It became our sanctuary—a place where we could just be ourselves, without the fear of discovery.”

Rhaenyra looked at her daughter, her smile tinged with admiration and sadness. “And when did you first know that you loved him?”

Valaena’s face softened. “I think I’ve always loved him.”

Rhaenyra sighed, a half-smile on her lips. “And what does he feel for you?”

Valaena smiled mischievously. “You’d have to ask him.”

“Oh, believe me,” Rhaenyra said with a wry grin. “I will.”

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over King’s Landing as Valaena stood on the balcony of her chambers, watching the evening bustle below.

She felt a familiar presence before she heard him, the soft creak of the door, the purposeful sound of boots across the stone floor, and then a pair of strong arms wrapping around her waist.

Aemond’s lips found her neck, leaving a trail of warm, tender kisses.

“Did you enjoy spending time with your brothers and sister?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips as she leaned back against him.

Aemond nuzzled into her neck, sighing with satisfaction. “Yes. It felt good, all of us flying together. It made me realize how much I missed them.”

She laughed softly. “Even Aegon?”

Aemond gave a small, reluctant chuckle. “Yes, even him. But don’t you dare tell him.”

“I won’t,” she promised, grinning.

He tilted his head, looking at her curiously. “And what did you do today, my love?”

“I spent time with the children in the garden, had a bit of a disagreement with Daemon, and then a long talk with my mother.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow. “You argued with Daemon?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she said, brushing it off lightly.

Aemond slid his hands over her rounded belly, resting them there as he buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. “Gods, you smell divine.”

“I recently bathed,” she replied, smiling.

Gently, he turned her around to face him, cupping her face as he leaned in to kiss her, slow and tender.

Resting his forehead against hers, his gaze was intense and filled with a reverence that made her heart race.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” Aemond murmured, his voice rough. “Ñuha ��brazȳrys, ñuha jorrāelagon.” (My wife, my love).

Valaena smiled, her fingers grazing his cheek. “Ñuha valzȳrys, ñuha zaldrīzes.” (My husband, my dragon).

With a quiet growl, he pulled her closer, his lips capturing hers with a passionate intensity. His hands travelled up her sides as he began to trail kisses along her jaw, his breath hot against her skin.

“I want you” he whispered, his voice a low murmur against her ear.

Valaena’s hands slid into his long silver hair, tangling in the strands as she pulled him close. “Pār emagon nyke” (Than have me).

Aemond guided Valaena backward toward their bed, his hands deftly slipping her nightdress from her shoulders, letting the fabric glide over her skin and pool softly around her feet.

Her gaze remained fixed on him as she sat down on the bed, watching as he unfastened his riding leathers, the dark material sliding off to reveal his lean, yet muscled frame.

Finally, he reached up, fingers lingering for a moment, and slipped off his eyepatch, leaving himself entirely bare before her.

Valaena reached forward, her hands settling on his hips, pulling him close. Her lips brushed softly against his stomach, trailing tender kisses along his skin.

She nuzzled into the faint line of hair that traced down from his navel, feeling him shiver at her touch.

Aemond’s hands gently cradled Valaena’s face, his gaze warm and intent as he guided her down onto the bed.

He settled her against the soft linens, his touch reverent as he brushed his fingers along her jawline, tracing a path down her shoulder and along her arm.

His eye never left hers, conveying a quiet depth of feeling that words couldn’t capture.

He leaned over her, supporting his weight on one arm, and lowered his face to cover her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Valaena moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Aemond then moved down to lick her nipples, he couldn’t contain his excitement as he went back and forth between her wonderful, enlarged breasts that nourished their daughter.

“Oh” muttered Valaena as she flung her arms over her face, as pearly white liquid began to leak from her breasts, running down her body in rivulets.

Aemond eagerly ran his tongue over the milk that had dripped from his wife’s rosy nipples and delighted in the sweetened taste.

“Hmmm” moaned Aemond as he continued to lick and suckle at her breasts, gorging himself on her milk, his hard cock pressed against her thigh.

His tongue swirling around her stiffened peaks, his teeth scraping against her skin, the sounds of him swallowing.

“Ohhh-A-Aemond” gasped Valaena.

“What is it my love?”.

“Don’t stop-please, oh gods-don’t stop” exclaimed Valaena as she arched her back, her cunny clenching around nothing as she unexpectedly climaxed.

“Did you just-peak?” asked Aemond smirking as he released her nipple with a soft pop.

“Yes” replied Valaena, her cheeks tinged pink.

“Well, that’s never happened before-” muttered Aemond he moved forward and kissed her passionately, his tongue invading her mouth.

“I-I don’t know what come over me-” replied Valaena softly.

“Don’t be embarrassed-I liked it” said Aemond as he began to move down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

He paused at her swollen stomach and placed a series of gentle kisses upon the stretched skin, marvelling at the wonder that was his wife who had already birthed three of his children and was now expecting their fourth.

“That feels nice” whispered Valaena as she closed her eyes.

“Does this feel nice?" asked Aemond, spitting on her cunny before he ran the flat of his tongue up her soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Valaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”.

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Valaena.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Valaena, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Valaena. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Valaena; her chest heaving.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, peak for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs.

Valaena arched her back and screamed as her climax washed over her.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at her centre as she squirted all over his face.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you-” begged Valaena.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth.

Aemond moved up Valaena’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Valaena, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

Aemond then manoeuvred her body on top of his.

“I want you to ride me-” exclaimed Aemond as he lined up his cock with her entrance and sheathed himself inside her with one hard thrust.

Valaena moaned as Aemond dug his fingers into her hips and helped her move on his cock.

"Please don't stop," cried out Valaena.

"I have no intention of stopping" growled Aemond, his feet planted firmly on the bed to allow him to increase the pace of his thrusts.

Valaena braced her hands on his chest as she rolled her hips against his, oblivious to the sound of the door slowly opening.

A satisfied smile spread across Aemond’s face as he looked towards the door.

He quickly sat up, wrapping his mouth around one of Valaena’s rosy nipples. His teeth and tongue teasing the stiffened peak, before he moved to the lavishing it with the same attention.

“Gods-yes Aemond” shrieked Valaena as she moved on his cock, her hands coiled in is long silver hair.

“That’s it-take all of me” growled Aemond laying back down as he moved Valaena’s hips in time with his own thrusts.

“Oh gods-” wailed Valaena.

“-FUCK Valaena” groaned Aemond, his gaze flickering to the door.

“P-Please Aemond. Don’t stop. Don’t stop-“ whimpered Valaena.

“Come for me-” growled Aemond as he felt her clenching around him.

“AEMOND” screamed Valaena as she exploded, her nails digging into his chest.

With a final hard thrust, Aemond’s eye rolled into the back of his head as he exploded spilling rope after rope of his seed.

But then-

“S-Sister?”

Valaena’s head whipped to the side, her heart plummeting as she caught sight of Jacaerys and Luke frozen in the doorway, mouths agape and their faces reddening.

Horror gripped her, and a loud, panicked shriek escaped her as she fumbled to cover herself, her hands flying to shield her exposed skin.

She stayed seated upon Aemond, who, unfazed, simply leaned back against the headboard, his expression calm, one arm folded behind his head.

“Nephews,” Aemond drawled, a smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth.

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen

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tanjamikaelson · 19 hours ago

Text

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 2

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 2: | HE'S AN IDIOT |

The following morning was filled with the sound of waves and the soft hum of voices as you and Sarah joined a beach cleanup, mingling with the community, hands busy gathering discarded cans and stray wrappers tangled in the sand.

After a couple of hours in the sun, the cleanup wrapped up, and you and Sarah made your way back to her house. She was off with Topper, laughing and relaxed on her boat, while you headed into the kitchen, hoping for something quick to eat since breakfast had been a hurried affair. Just as you grabbed a bag of chips and a drink, you turned and nearly collided with Rafe, who appeared out of nowhere in the foyer.

You both froze for a split second, and the chips slipped from your grasp, tumbling to the floor. Rafe leaned down, mumbling, “Shit, sorry,” as he retrieved the bag. His fingers brushed yours for an instant, sending a spark through you that made your heart race.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” you said, trying to make light of the moment even as your stomach twisted in nerves and curiosity.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable, but his usual confidence wavered. “I wasn’t expecting you here,” he said, his voice low, almost distant.

A slight laugh escaped your lips, though it felt too light for the weight between you both. “Like you didn’t expect me in your room the other night…”

Your words seemed to make him tense even more, his gaze darting around the room as though searching for an escape. His eyes looked a little glazed, and you wondered again if it was the lingering effects of that night, or whatever it was that had him on edge lately.

“I’m sorry about that,” you added, the words catching in your throat. “Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have done it.” Your heart sank a little as you spoke; had you really pushed too far?

Rafe’s eyes softened, just barely, and he shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to be sorry about it,” he said, though his tone carried an unspoken weight. He looked as if he wanted to say more, to reach out to you, but something was holding him back.

You couldn’t help but smile, though it felt bittersweet. “Are you going to Kelce’s party later?” you asked, hoping to bridge the awkwardness lingering between you two.

“Yeah,” he replied, a faint smile playing on his lips as he nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay, see you then.” You glanced at him one last time, wanting so badly to understand what was going on behind those conflicted eyes before you turned and left the room.

As you walked away, you felt his gaze on you, lingering even after you’d turned the corner. Rafe seemed lost, struggling to find his footing, caught between the pull of his own feelings and whatever else haunted him. It was clear he didn’t know how to act around you, as though every word or touch might unravel something inside of him that he was afraid to face.

•°•°•°•°•°•

You arrived at Kelce’s party with Sarah and Topper, the evening air warm against your skin. You were wearing a white swimsuit underneath a nearly sheer black dress, its delicate pattern of pink roses giving it an air of elegance. It clung to your body just right, the subtle transparency leaving just enough to the imagination. You had spent the last half hour watching Sarah and Topper, noticing the way they seemed lost in their own world as they playfully splashed around in the pool. Their laughter echoed through the yard, carefree and full of excitement.

Earlier, while getting ready for the party, Sarah confessed to you that she was ready to take the next step with Topper. Tonight, she said, would be the night. There had been a glimmer of nervous excitement in her eyes, a kind of anticipation that only firsts can bring. Now, as you watched them sneak away together, you knew what was about to happen, and your heart swelled with protectiveness for your best friend.

As the night moved on, you made your way back into the house, hoping to find a place to sit down and relax. That’s when you saw Rafe, sitting on a couch surrounded by people—girls and guys, all vying for his attention as he passed around small bags of coke. You rolled your eyes, the sight of him dealing drugs like it was just another casual social activity filling you with annoyance. You hated that he was caught up in that lifestyle, and even more, you hated that he used them too. It was something that separated you from him, something you wished he would stop.

Despite your frustration, you found yourself drawn to him. He seemed to sense your presence immediately, even as he was in the midst of his drug transactions. You sat down across from him, not close enough to join the chaos surrounding him, but just close enough that your eyes could meet. Rafe’s gaze flickered over to you, his expression softening into a smile that was just for you. He never offered you drugs, never even tempted you with them. He had always kept that world at a distance from you as if he was protecting you from the same things that consumed him.

Minutes passed, and soon Topper appeared, his face dark and clouded with frustration. You noticed immediately that something was wrong. He didn’t look happy, not like he should have after being with Sarah. Worry twisted in your gut, and you didn’t need to ask to know that things hadn’t gone as Sarah had planned.

Without hesitation, you stood and went to find her. When you finally spotted her outside, she was already heading toward the gate, her face streaked with tears.

“Sarah!” you called out, hurrying to catch up with her.

She turned to face you, and the sight of her tear-streaked cheeks broke your heart. "What happened? Did Topper do something?" you asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Sarah shook her head, trying to wipe away the tears. “No, he didn’t do anything. I just… I thought I was ready, but I wasn’t.”

Her voice trembled, and you could see the weight of her decision hanging over her. “It’s okay,” you whispered softly, your hand brushing her arm in comfort. “It’s okay to wait. You don’t have to rush anything.”

Sarah sniffed, her lips quivering. “He wasn’t happy about it,” she admitted her voice small and filled with doubt.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of Topper being upset over something so personal. “Screw him. Guys like that—they only think about one thing,” you told her, a little fire in your words, hoping to make her feel better.

A small, broken laugh escaped Sarah’s lips, and she smiled through her tears. “You’re right.”

You smiled back, relieved to see her spirits lifting. “Do you want to go back to the party?” you offered.

Sarah shook her head, wiping the last of her tears. “No, I think I’ll just head home. I don’t feel like partying anymore.”

“I can come with you,” you said, ready to leave everything behind to make sure she was okay.

But Sarah smiled weakly and shook her head again. “No, stay. Have fun. I’m just going to sleep.”

You nodded in understanding, watching as she walked away. Once she was out of sight, you made your way back inside, your heart still heavy for her. As soon as you entered, your mood shifted sharply when you saw someone you hadn’t expected—your ex-boyfriend. He was standing across the room, eyes locked on you like a predator sizing up his prey, and you felt a wave of discomfort roll through you. The memory of him stung like an old wound. Six months together, and it all crumbled when he cheated on you while on vacation. The betrayal cut deep, and though you had ended things swiftly, only Sarah knew the real reason. Seeing him now, with that familiar smirk on his face, made your skin crawl.

You quickly moved over to where your friends were gathered around Rafe, hoping to avoid any confrontation.

The moment you settled into the group, one of your friends leaned in, her voice full of curiosity. “Hey, isn’t that your ex?”

You barely spared a glance in his direction, rolling your eyes as you nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“Why did you two break up anyway?” she asked, her voice light, unaware of the storm those words stirred in you.

Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped from your mouth. “Because he cheated on me.”

The room felt like it froze for a moment. The words hung in the air, and you instantly wished you could take them back. But it was too late.

Rafe, who had been leaning back lazily, suddenly snapped to attention. His eyes shot up from where he sat, his expression darkening as he processed what you’d said. He didn’t like hearing that. The idea of someone hurting you, betraying you like that, made his blood boil. He had sensed something was off when you broke up, and noticed the sadness in your eyes back then, but he never knew it was because your ex had hurt you that badly.

Anger surged through him. How could anyone be so stupid, so careless, to hurt someone like you? Rafe's jaw clenched, the coke in his system amplifying his emotions, making the fury harder to contain.

Before you could even brace yourself, your ex started walking toward you, completely unaware of the conversation he was about to walk into. His casual demeanor made your stomach churn. He had no idea that everyone knew now—everyone knew what he had done to you.

“Can we talk?” His voice was calm, almost pleading, as if nothing had happened between you. As if he hadn’t shattered your trust and left you to pick up the pieces.

Before you could respond, Rafe was already on his feet, moving with a quickness that surprised even you. “She doesn’t wanna talk to you,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

You blinked, stunned by how swiftly Rafe stepped in, the way he positioned himself between you and your ex, like a shield. “Uh, yeah... I don’t,” you stammered, nodding in agreement with Rafe. You couldn’t help but be surprised by his protectiveness, but a part of you felt grateful—like he’d been waiting for this moment, waiting to defend you.

“I just wanted—” your ex began, but Rafe cut him off again, his patience wearing thin.

“Nobody cares what you want,” Rafe snarled, his voice dripping with hostility.

Before you could even process what was happening, Rafe grabbed your hand, his touch firm but careful, and dragged you away from the tension-filled room. Your heart raced, not just from the confrontation but from the way Rafe was holding you—protecting you.

He didn’t stop until he had you pinned gently against the hallway wall, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. His body was close to yours, his blue eyes searching your face with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the rage he’d shown moments before.

You nodded, your breath still a little uneven. “I’m fine, Rafe. Thanks for that, you didn’t have to—”

Rafe cut you off, his voice filled with determination. “Of course I did. He’s an idiot.”

You laughed, the tension melting away for just a moment. “Yeah, he is.”

“Biggest one I know, besides myself,” Rafe added, a self-deprecating smirk pulling at his lips.

You shook your head softly. “You’re not an idiot, Rafe,” you said, your voice gentle.

But Rafe’s expression darkened slightly, his eyes flickering with something deeper. “Of course I am,” he corrected you, his voice lowering as he leaned in closer, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “You wouldn’t even be with him if I tried something with you sooner.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? You weren’t sure how Rafe felt about you before, but now… now you knew. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Do you want to show him that you don’t belong to him anymore?” Rafe’s voice was rough, but his words sent shivers down your spine. There was a rawness to his tone, a need that mirrored your own.

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as you whispered, “How?”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just let me lead the way,” Rafe murmured, his voice almost soothing. He was waiting for your permission, waiting for you to tell him it was okay. “Okay?”

You nodded, unable to form words, your body already reacting to his closeness. Your heart pounded in your chest as you bit your lower lip, feeling the heat of his body radiating against yours. When you felt his fingers brush along your inner thigh, a soft gasp escaped your lips, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you.

“Can I touch you?” Rafe asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his hand hovering near your covered core.

“Please do,” you whispered, your voice shaky with need.

The moment his fingers made contact with your swimsuit, brushing over the fabric covering your most sensitive spot, you nearly collapsed into him. Rafe’s hand moved slowly, deliberately, teasing you until you were trembling against him.

“Shit… you’re wet already,” Rafe breathed against your ear, his voice filled with lust. His touch was confident, fueled by the coke and years of pent-up desire. Your body reacted on instinct, the alcohol making your inhibitions fade, allowing you to give in to the moment fully.

“I bet you were like this that morning when you were grinding against me,” Rafe’s voice was husky, each word sending goosebumps down your skin.

You couldn’t answer at first, your breath coming out in short gasps as his fingers continued to tease you through your swimsuit. But when you finally found your voice, it was barely a whisper. “I was,” you moaned, the confession slipping out between breaths.

Rafe groaned, the sound deep and primal. His fingers began to rub your clit through the fabric, slow at first, then faster, and it sent your senses spiraling. You clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck as waves of pleasure coursed through you. You moaned his name softly, the sound of it making him grow even more eager. He was skilled, knowing exactly how to work your body, pushing all the right buttons to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“Is your ex watching?” Rafe asked, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You managed to rise up on your tiptoes, glancing over his shoulder. There he was—your ex, watching with eyes full of jealousy and frustration. He had never been able to get this close to you, never touched you the way Rafe was touching you now. He had cheated because he couldn’t wait because he thought he could manipulate you into sleeping with him. But now, seeing you with Rafe, he realized just how wrong he had been.

“Yeah, he’s watching,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Good,” Rafe smirked, and in one fluid motion, he moved your bottoms aside, his fingers brushing over your bare clit.

The shock of his touch made you moan louder, your body pressing into his as your legs began to tremble. Rafe’s fingers worked faster, rubbing your clit with expert precision. You clung to his shoulders, unable to hold yourself up as your body buckled under the pleasure.

Once again you stole a glance over Rafe’s shoulder, searching for your ex, wondering if he was still watching. The sight of him seeing you with Rafe had fueled you earlier, a sense of satisfaction curling in your chest. But when you looked now, he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had left, unable to stand the jealousy burning through him, knowing that you had moved on in ways he hadn’t expected.

But you didn’t tell Rafe. You didn’t want him to stop. Not now, when you were so close, your body trembling as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten with each passing second.

Rafe’s breath was hot against your ear as he spoke, his voice dripping with desire. “I knew it,” he whispered, his words making goosebumps rise on your skin. “I knew you wanted this as much as I did.”

You could only moan in response, your legs starting to shake as he increased the pressure, his fingers circling your clit faster.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened, needing something to hold onto as pleasure washed over you, wave after wave. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as the orgasm crashed over you, more intense than anything you had ever felt before. You moaned Rafe’s name over and over, the sound of it sending waves of satisfaction through him.

Rafe’s arm was quick to wrap around your waist, holding you up as your body shook with the intensity of it all. You buried your face in his chest, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you tried to steady yourself, the overwhelming sensation still coursing through your veins.

Rafe chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You okay?”

You looked up at him, still a little dazed, but a slow smile spread across your lips. “Perfect,” you breathed out, your body still buzzing from the aftermath. The intensity of it all had left you feeling lighter like something had shifted between the two of you, something you could never take back.

Rafe grinned down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and hunger. He had imagined this moment so many times, but having you here in his arms, breathless and flushed because of him, felt better than he ever thought it could.

After a few minutes, the two of you returned to the main room where the party was still in full swing. Your heart pounded in your chest as you scanned the room, hoping your ex wouldn’t try anything else. But there he was, standing near the table, hunched over doing lines of coke with a couple of other guys. The sight of him filled you with satisfaction—he had lost, and he knew it. You clung to Rafe’s arm, feeling his warmth, his presence grounding you.

Your ex looked up, the fury in his eyes was unmistakable, and the look on his face sent a chill down your spine. The rage was clear in his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he saw you cling to Rafe’s arm. He had never been able to handle his jealousy well, and now it was eating him alive. He thought he could guilt-trip you back into being with him, make you think you were naive and innocent, but you weren’t playing into his games anymore.

Your ex sneered, his voice low and venomous as he hissed, “What would Sarah say if she knew her brother fucked you?”

The room seemed to be still at his words. The air grew thick with whispers, people turning to glance at you and Rafe, eyes wide with curiosity and judgment. The accusation lingered in the air, heavy and dangerous, and your stomach twisted at the thought of Sarah finding out. Your best friend—what would she think? How would she react?

You felt the heat rise in your face, panic creeping up your throat. Your wide eyes met Rafe’s, silently pleading for him to do something, anything, to make this go away. But you knew Rafe didn’t care about what his sister thought the way you did. He didn’t care about their whispers or the gossip that was sure to spread like poison through your social circles. But the only thing that seemed to matter to him right now was you.

Rafe’s jaw clenched, the sharpness of his fury clear in his eyes. He didn’t need words to convey the rage simmering inside him. The moment he saw the tears welling in your eyes, something snapped. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous, each word filled with venom.

“Shut the fuck up!” Rafe growled, and before anyone had time to react, his fist flew through the air, connecting squarely with your ex’s face.

The sound of the punch echoed through the room, a brutal, sickening crack that silenced the crowd. Your ex staggered backward, his hand instinctively going to his face as blood gushed from his nose and mouth. He collapsed to the floor, groaning in pain, his hands now stained with red. Rafe stood over him, chest heaving, his expression hard and unforgiving.

Everyone around you stared in shock, too stunned to say anything. It was clear Rafe had broken his nose—the way your ex was gasping for breath, clutching his face in agony, only made it more obvious. And Rafe? He didn’t care. You could see it in the satisfied glint in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell with the adrenaline of the moment. He had been waiting for this, waiting to finally put your ex in his place, to make him pay for what he had done to you.

You couldn’t help but feel a small, wicked smile pull at your lips as you watched your ex whine, blood dripping from his nose and down his chin. He deserved this. He deserved all of it, after everything he had put you through, after trying to come back into your life like he hadn’t betrayed you.

Rafe didn’t give him a second glance. He grabbed your arm with a firm but protective grip, pulling you out of the house and away from the whispers that had started to stir behind you. You barely had time to catch your breath before you were outside, the cool night air washing over your heated skin.

Without saying a word, Rafe grabbed his helmet and placed it over your head, the action so gentle and caring that it sent warmth through your chest. He secured it carefully before helping you onto his bike. Your legs felt shaky, your body still buzzing with adrenaline, but the moment you settled behind Rafe, wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt safe. You felt protected.

He revved the engine, and the roar of the bike drowned out everything else—the noise of the party, the whispers, your ex’s pitiful groaning from inside. As Rafe sped off into the night, the wind whipped past you, carrying with it the weight of everything that had just happened. You held onto him tightly, your face pressed against his back, your heart still pounding.

The ride to your house wasn’t long, but it felt different like time had slowed down. The tension in the air between you both was still palpable, a mixture of emotions swirling in the silence. When the bike finally came to a stop in front of your house, you hesitated, your arms lingering around Rafe for just a moment longer, not ready to let go.

Rafe turned slightly, his eyes searching yours with a softness that wasn’t there before. “If he tries anything else with you, just let me know, okay?” His voice was low, but there was an edge of protectiveness to it, a promise in his words. He was serious—he would handle your ex, no matter what it took.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “I will. Thank you, Rafe.”

He returned the smile, but there was something more in his gaze, something that lingered in the space between you. Just as you handed him his helmet, the front door to your house swung open, and your mother stepped outside, her expression surprised to see you.

“I thought you were going to stay at Sarah’s again tonight,” your mother said, her eyes flickering between you and Rafe, taking in the unexpected scene.

You cleared your throat, trying to sound as casual as possible. “She wasn’t feeling good,” you explained quickly. “So Rafe drove me back.”

Your mother smiled warmly at him. “Thank you for driving her back, Rafe,” she said, her voice kind and appreciative.

“Yeah, no problem,” Rafe replied, his voice steady as he gave her a nod.

With that, he revved the engine once more, the sound filling the quiet street as he turned and sped off into the night. You stood there, watching him disappear down the road, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Something had shifted between you two tonight, something undeniable.

As you finally stepped inside your house, closing the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that had happened. The confrontation with your ex, the way Rafe had stepped in, protected you and made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. It left a mark, something that would linger long after the night was over.

And as you lay in bed that night, you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring, and where things with Rafe would go from here.

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #sarah cameron x female reader #sarah cameron x you #sarah cameron x reader

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authortelevision · 2 days ago

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george’s fake wedding plus one ₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,267 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ george clarke fluff, fake dating, friends to lovers

you have known george for a while and have always been close, when he invites you to his sisters wedding as a ‘fake date’ you both realise maybe the date was fake but the love might not be

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You had been working with the Useless Hotline for two years now and due to that you and George have been close friends for a few years, but that’s all it has ever been. You wished it was more, far more than you’d ever wanted to admit to him. He’d had hookups and so had you, but with George you’d never wanted to be one of the many girls he had fucked, you wanted to love him, hold his hand through the city and kiss under fairy lights. You just wanted George, the boy you had fallen for, the boy who would stay around after the podcast just to lean on the desk of the set and talk to you about his day and what had been happening in his life, not the one on camera, but of his family and his interests.

After tip toeing around it for a few weeks when the cameras were turned off for the day, he asked you if you wanted to come to his sisters wedding, as his date, a fake girlfriend to be more specific. He just didn’t want to disappointed his family with how he hadn’t found a date yet and he knew his sister liked you and with Max and his boyfriend being invited he didn’t want to turn up alone again. He thought you were the perfect one to come along and he didn’t mind lingering his hand on your waist or whispering silly jokes in your ear hoping that the secret affair would seem genuine when you’d push him away playfully.

When the day arrived, you were absolutely terrified. You were so scared of what his extended family would think of you. You knew it fake and that you didn’t have to be worried, but seeing George in his suit waiting outside your house ready for the ‘big show’ was overwhelming. He looked so attractive and put together, checking his phone relentlessly waiting for you to say you were ready. His hair was falling down his face as he gently adjusted his suit.

When you arrived, you felt George’s hand sneak around your waist, leaning closer to whisper into your ear “You look really beautiful by the way,” you felt slightly breathless at the compliment, but part of you knew the touch was just of the act and it hurt a little bit, you wished it was genuine but the lingering feeling of his hand was enough to calm you, you had always wished for this intimacy and you thought you should just embrace the love you would feel tonight.

The reception began, and after a beautiful ceremony filled with heartfelt vows, the guests settle into their seats for dinner. The warm glow of candlelight created an intimate setting as George stood up to deliver his toast. He clutched a champagne flute, and cleared his throat. He looked down at you for a brief moment, lightly smiling as his eyes sparkled with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“Hey everyone! For those of you who don’t know me, I’m George, the Emily’s brother,” he started, his voice slightly shaky but growing steadier with each word. “I just wanted to say how happy I am for my sister and her new husband. They are truly meant for each other. Who would have thought Geo’s older sister would meet someone who is almost as funny as me’

He earned a soft laugh from the crowd and as he continues, the more he drinks, the more sentimental he becomes. Slowly he concludes his speech, sitting down. He looks over at you, a soft smile spreading across his face. He leans over again to whisper in your ear, “And I’m really grateful for having someone as amazing as my lovely not girlfriend girlfriend by my side.” The guests start murmuring, glancing between the two of you. You knew it was because this was the first girl they had seen George with and part of you felt like this act was going a bit too far but you just pushed it down, remembering that George still chose you.

He eventually leans back, your heart races as George’s gaze still lingers on you, filled with warmth and a drunken haze being noticeable as he looks at you through his eyelashes. It feels surreal—his words almost sound like a confession. You can’t help but smile back, feeling a rush of affection.

After the toast, the music begins to play, and the reception begins to feel more comfortable and familiar as you begin drinking more and more. The dance floor fills with guests swaying and twirling under the string lights. George, buoyed by the energy and perhaps a few more sips of champagne, grabs your hand and pulls you onto the dance floor.

As you both dance, laughter begins pouring from your lips, and George spins you around playfully. The warmth of his body against yours feels so right. He leant in closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here with me.” The way he looks at you, eyes bright scrunching at the corners with genuine joy, sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

As the night continues, you are pulled away from George by family, you recognise them from photos but the only one you truly knew was George’s beautiful sister. George turns to you, leaning in to gently kiss you on the cheek. The lingering feeling went straight to your face making them warm and brighten, “Good luck beautiful”.

You see George slowly drift away outside, stumbling as he goes, turning back one last time to look back at you, giving you a small wink as he fades away through the crowd.

The garden was glowing from soft string lights that cast a golden hue across the scenery. The night was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the smell of fresh flowers. George’s sister’s wedding has turned out to be more magical than anyone anticipated, and George can’t help but feel proud—and a little overwhelmed as his head starts spinning as he realises how much the champagne and occasional double shot vodka sodas had caught up to him.

The buzz of alcohol adding to the dizzying mixture of emotions he’s been trying to keep at bay all night. Every time he sees you, mingling with his family or laughing with friends, he feels his heart warming in his chest. He brought you here as his pretend date, yet the way you fit so seamlessly into his world tonight has him questioning everything.

Feeling unsteady, he eventually makes it out into the garden, hoping the cool night air will help clear his head. But as he rounds the corner, he nearly walks straight into Max and his boyfriend, Andrew, who are sharing a quiet moment away from the crowd. Max raises an eyebrow as George teeters slightly, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“George,” Max chuckles, steadying him by the shoulder, “How much have you had to drink?”

George laughs, though it’s slightly unsteady, and shrugs. “Maybe a bit more than I thought,” he admits, slurring just slightly. Andrew chuckles as he and Max guide George over to a bench beneath a tree, urging him to sit before he loses his balance entirely.

“You are absolutely gone” Max asks, his tone playful but his eyes gentle. George nods, feeling grateful for the support. The coolness of the bench against his hands is grounding, but not enough to stop his gaze from drifting back to the reception.

From where they’re sitting, he can just make out the dance floor. There, under the twinkling lights, you’re dancing with his sister, laughing as she spins you around. The sight makes his chest ache in a way that’s both comforting and terrifying, like the beginning of something he’s not sure he’s ready to admit.

Max’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “You’ve looked back over there at least three times in the last minute. What’s going on?” he asks, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

George swallows, feeling his heart pounding. He shifts on the bench, letting out a nervous laugh, but his eyes are still fixed on you as you dance. “I… I don’t know, mate,” he begins, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… her.”

Max’s smirk softens, replaced by a more serious expression as he watches his friend. “Come on, George. Tell me what’s actually going on.”

George hesitates, torn between wanting to admit the truth and feeling ridiculous for how vulnerable he’s become. But with Max and Andrew there, it somehow feels safe to confess, like a secret he’s been keeping to himself for too long. He lets out a shaky sigh, his gaze still trained on you, swaying to the music with that easy, genuine smile he’s come to love.

“I think… I think,” he stops himself for a moment “No it’s so dumb I’m literally 24, it’s so embarrassing.. fuck it whatever, I think I actually love her,” he says quietly, the words slipping out almost as if they’d been waiting to be spoken aloud. Saying it feels strange but also freeing, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Max’s face breaks into a wide smile, while Andrew gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You are such a big fat fucking idiot,” Max says, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “You literally spend hours every week waiting around for her at the studio like a lost dog, you literally message her like every night and only now are you thinking you like her”

George groans, laughing as he buries his face in his hands. “Yeah, something like that,” he mumbles, feeling both foolish and exhilarated. “I just thought if I brought her here, it’d be easier to keep things casual. But now… seeing her here, with everyone, and knowing how she just… fits…” He trails off, lost in the thought.

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, George, you might just be the most oblivious man I’ve ever met. But if you ask me, now’s the time to go for it.” He nudges George, his grin full of encouragement. “You’ve been staring at her like that all night like a freak, just talk to her or I’ll tell everyone you paid her to come.”

After a quick hug from George’s sister and a few warm words, you glance back and spot George outside, sat under a tree decorated with fairy lights. He’s with Max and Andrew, who are laughing and chatting with him, but something about his posture—softened, maybe a bit nervous—makes you pause. You catch his eye and give him a wave, and he offers a perfectly white smile in return, watching you as you make your way over.

As you approach, Max and Andrew turn to greet you, both of them smiling knowingly. “We’ll let you two talk,” Max says with a wink, nudging George’s arm in a way that makes you feel a pit in your stomach. “Come on, Andrew. I think we need another drink.” Andrew smiles at you and gives you a quick wave before letting Max pull him back inside, leaving you alone with George.

There’s a moment of quiet as you sit down resting your head on George’s soldier under the fairy lights, surrounded by the soft sounds of the celebration drifting in from the reception. You remove your head and George looks at you, swallowing harshly as he scans your face, briefly focusing on your lips to then stare affectionately into your eyes. He opens his mouth as if to speak. But before he can say anything, you feel your heart racing, and you find yourself blurting out, “George, wait—I need to say something.”

He pauses, a bit startled, but nods for you to go on, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I know this was supposed to be pretend,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly, looking away from his gaze, “but like.. I don’t know, it’s dumb I’m sorry, it stopped feeling like that for me. I’ve been trying to keep things casual, but…” You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I think I actually love you. I don’t expect you to feel the same way, and you don’t have to say anything, but I couldn’t leave tonight without telling you.”

For a split second, there’s silence. But then, without a word, George steps forward, his sparkling blue eyes locked on yours, and he cups your face in his hands. His touch is warm and soft, and before you can say anything else, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is gentle and full of a feeling that’s been building for so long. Underneath the twinkling fairy lights, surrounded by the quiet of the night, you lose yourself in the moment, feeling the weight of every unspoken word drift away. His hands trail down to your waist, pulling you closer, you wrap your arms around him as though you’ve been waiting forever for this.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice soft. “Fuck,” he whispers with a grin. “I was going to tell you the same thing.”

A smile breaks across your face, your heart soaring as you laugh, unable to believe this is real. “Really?” you ask, still breathless from the kiss.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice warm and sure. “I think I fell in love with you long before tonight. I just needed this to realise how much I truly like you.”

He leans in again, and under the cold bite of the night’s sky, you kiss once more, knowing this is only the beginning of something you’ve both been waiting for, far longer than either of you realized.

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author note: i’m so so proud of this one i hope you like it !!

#george clarkey #george clarke fics #georgeclarkey #george clarkey fluff #george clarke

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bonniebird · 2 days ago

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Aemond X Fem!Targ!Reader

Warnings:

Summery: In an attempt to keep peace, Viserys wed Rhaenyra's only daughter to Aemond. Years later Alicent finds herself caught between the loyalty to her son or her daughter-in-law. With Aemond showing he cares very little about what happens to the mother of his heir he is surprisingly enraged when she vanishes one afternoon during a council meeting.

Part 1 here

Aemond crumpled the paper in his hands as his fury began to make him tremble. Taking a deep breath to steady himself he let out a low seethed puff of breath that growled out between gritted teeth.

“My Prince.” One of the council members said. Aemond ignored them as he stormed to the door, ripping it open hard enough to startle the guard on the other side as the heavy wood made loud protests against being opened so furiously. His footsteps forewarned his appearance. Echoing doom as he walked the corridors. He reached Helaena’s apartments and found his mother waiting for him. She was sitting, lounging, in one of the armchairs looking out at the sea through the wide window that illuminated the empty room. She lazily sipped at the goblet in her hand as she looked at him. He stopped and looked around the empty room from the doorway. She smiled at him and raised her eyebrows.

“Do you need something, Aemond?” She asked. His eyes flicked over to her and he shook his head.

“Where is she?” He snapped.

“Who?” Alicent asked and looked at him with a devious innocence.

“My sister, where is she?” Aemond demanded and took a step further into the room. Alicent took a moment, sipping her drink and letting her hand holding the goblet swing out lazily to drape over the side of her chair. Not a drop spilled.

“My poor boy. You do seem to be having trouble keeping track of your women.” She smiled to herself as he stamped closer. He would have been intimidating to her. But now he looked little more than a large toddler stamping his feet.

“She has been exchanging letters with my wife! I WANT MY SON!” Aemond lost his temper and leaned down over Alicent. She sat up in the chair. Her free hand reached up to embrace his cheek and she smiled sadly.

“This is the stress of helping your brother. Let the council make some decisions and take some time to rest.” Alicent said in a patronising tone. Aemond shrank back and gave her a disgusted look.

“Perhaps it is time you sobered up, mother.” Turning on his heels he stormed out of view. After a few moments, Alicent got up to find Helaena, stopping at the door. A wilted plant was shoved into a corner. With a shrug, she tipped the rest of her water from her goblet into the pot and smiled to herself.

Helaena was not found until late in the evening. Despite being summoned multiple times, Aemond had to go to her. They managed to meet right outside the doors of the throne room. Aemond hadn’t expected her to be there and looked quite surprised for a moment. Helaena’s expression was unreadable. She gave the impression that this was always where she had intended to come across Aemond.

“Where is my wife?” Aemond asked as he took in the sight of his sister. She was wearing a dark green dress so dark you could mistake it for being cut from black cloth. As calmly as if he’d asked her about the weather, she answered.

“Not here.” Her voice was soft and soothing. He scoffed, swallowed a slew of vulgar words and took a threatening step towards her. Helaena took a step forward herself, unflinching and fearless. She held Aemond’s gaze and he felt a shiver of hesitation crawl down his spine.

“You know where she is and I demand to know.” He tried to control the tone of his voice, afraid she would hear the trembling in his breath. “She has my son.”

“I knew where she was. But she is not there any more. You should not worry about the children. I know my sister-by-law well. I trust her.” Helaena smiled as if she was reassuring him but Aemond let his head bow low as he closed his eyes. It was always frustrating trying to get a clear answer from his sister.

“She is my enemy. HE is my heir. Of course, I should worry.” He muttered out as if he were sick of explaining something simple to a child. Helaena smiled and looked at him as if he had just solved a great mystery for her.

“She has never been your enemy. But you have always thought the worst of her. No wonder you allowed her love to be taken from you by someone else.” Helaena turned to leave. For some reason, a reason Aemond could not name or explain, those words squeezed his chest. As if his sister had reached right into his chest, gripped his heart and twisted for good measure. You were HIS wife. His. If he liked you or not it didn’t matter. No one else could have you. Helaena had retreated into the corridors of the keep. Aemond, stood alone outside the throne room. He was uncertain what the writhing feeling in the pit of his stomach was or what the ache in his chest meant. All he knew for sure.

He should have left Helaena alone.

**********************

The wagon slowed and stopped a short distance from the men. Davos stepped away from the small camp and watched carefully before he was beckoned over. A group of men followed him from the camp and he stopped short at the wagon as the men who had stopped it pulled back the fabric cover. It revealed a small group, four women and among them, a young girl, frightened and wide eyed. Unmistakably Targaryen.

Davos glanced around and saw the men looking at him, waiting for a command. Sucking in a quick breath and bouncing on the balls of his feet he tried to look as if he knew what he was doing.

“You… urm… you are in lands…under the rules of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Declare your name.” Davos said and cleared his throat a little as he finished talking, hoping that he looked tall and formidable.

“We are travelling to join (Y/N) Targaryen, daughter of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. The queen’s half sister has sent us to the vale and instructed us to travel this way.” One lady with long dark hair spoke up. Davos looked at the girl carefully before motioning to his men.

“Keep them here. Delay the plans to move on until later in the day.” With that, he turned on his heels and hurried towards the small camp. Men were already taking down the tens and loading them into carts. Shouts followed Davos to halt the preparations to move until further notice. At the centre of the camp was a small tent surrounded by men guarding carefully. Each armed and looking around as if they expected an attack from every direction. Davos ducked as he entered the tent. There was a raised bed made of small trees, one of his men had spent a good portion of the day crafting the makeshift bed for the princess who sat with silver hair spilling over her shoulders. She smiled as she looked at Davos, the baby in her arms charming her with gurgles and squeals.

“There is a wagon. The women in it claim they were sent by your aunt… the girl with them is Targaryen. Of that I am certain.” Davos said quickly. He found himself smiling when the baby looked at him curiously, squealed and then waved his arms about as Davos let out a light laugh.

“I will go.” You said sweetly. Davos frowned and wanted to object but nodded reluctantly. When he left the tent with you he muttered a quiet curse. He had been quick to take up the request to rescue you when the raven had come. It had not occurred to him that a princess and a baby would need someone more than soldiers to tend to them. A young man hurried to take the baby and vanished inside the tent. Some of the men guarding the tent broke off and followed the two of you.

When the canvas covering the wagon was pulled back there was only time for a breath before the tiny girl surged forward in a silver streak. “(Y/N)” The quiet relieved voice broke out in almost a whisper. Davos watched as the girl clung to you, wrapping herself around you so tightly it was a wonder you could pull in breath. “Mother sent me.”

“I know. Come we shall see the baby together.” You said and your arms cradled the girl as if you planned to never let her go.

“If they are not here to hinder us… we must move.” Davos said. You nodded and paused on your path back to your tent.

“When should we arrive?” You asked.

“If we push ourselves late in the evening, perhaps early morning.” Davos said hopefully. You nodded and paused to mutter something to the girl who answered in Valyrian.

“The children and I will be ready… May the women come with me? It will help.” You asked. Glancing back you recognised all of them. Two were women who usually helped Helaena Targaryen, and the other two were highborn ladies who tended to you. One was a cousin of Elinda’s, Adrya Massey, who had become one of your ladies in waiting when you were young, the other a girl from the Reach. A Hightower cousin of Alicent’s you thought, though in truth you couldn’t quite recall.

“If you trust them. Then they are welcome.” Davos said with a nod. You turned back and caught the eye of Adrya who gave a slight nod and encouraged the others to follow her. She marched through soldiers bravely to reach you.

***********************

Cole paused as he was speaking. He realised that Aemond was no longer listening to him and instead was staring up at the sky. When Cole looked up he couldn’t see anything but there was a look on Aemond’s face that had him glancing around.

“Should we have the men take cover?” He asked and Aemond scoffed.

“It would do little to help them.” Aemond answered. There was a far-off cry. It repeated and echoed out in the sky, silencing the birds and the animals that made homes in the corners of the Red Keep's courtyard.

“My horse!” Aemond bellowed. Cole saw several men hurry to fetch the fine chestnut horse Aemond favoured. As Aemond hurried to mount the horse and ordered the gates to be opened Cole saw the sky above them split. A sleek shadow glided down and broke apart the clouds, swirling and singing lazily in the sky. “It’s the princess’s dragon!” Someone said in a hushed whisper.

“Maybe she never left the city.” Another sounded out. Cole had always found your dragon as close to beautiful as a dragon could be. Unusually large for her age the dragon was sleek, graceful and deceptively gentle. The membrane of its wings were gold like the she-dragon Syrax who was known to have laid the egg. Though the rest of the dragon was a pale grey-green colour its body resembled Caraxes, long, slender and sleek. Though Rhaenyra insisted that both you and your dragon were the offspring of her lord husband Laenor and his dragon, respectively, it had never prevented the rumours that you were secretly Daemon’s and your dragon sired by Caraxes.

“Out of my way!” Aemond shouted as he urged his horse forward. He pushed the horse as fast as it would go as he hurried to find Vhagar. He found the mass of green beast looking up at the dragon that was gliding above singing. She let out a song of her own and received one in response. Aemond could feel his heart pounding. It made his breath come and go quickly. There was a thought in the back of his mind.

~She is finally fleeing the city.~ He shook the idea from his head. He had torn the city apart. It had been likened to Daemon’s days as leader of the gold cloaks.

“Sōvēs, Vhagar!” Aemond commanded once he had dropped into the saddle. He growled with frustration when he had to repeat himself and urge her up. With a heave that could be seen as dramatic Vhagar rose and took flight.

Something rose in Aemond’s chest as the smaller dragon flirted through the sky around Vhagar who hummed happily. The dragon often tried to follow them, usually to Aemond’s irritation. As the dragon turned Aemond felt as if his insides were stone and they had dropped to his feet. An emptiness filled him as rage poured into his body. The saddle was empty. Aemond again felt a deep pain as if part of him had hoped to find the saddle full.

“Angōs! Angōs Vhagar!” Aemond shouted with fury. Vhagar turned towards your dragon who obliviously twirled and swung about, dipping in and out of the air that Vhargar’s flight disturbed and using it to glide neatly about them. Vhagar rumbled and let out a furious screech. The ground had moved miles below them in a blur. Vhagar let out a short burst of flames, turning towards the ground as she did, clearing her landing of trees. Aemond gave a shout in frustration as the dragon circled them and then continued on its lazy path through the air and out of sight. Vhagar lay among the smouldering ashes, refusing to rise no matter how Aemond coaxed her up. Disappointment and frustration washed over him as he sat in the sweltering heat and watched the dot in the sky slowly vanish.

#aemond targaryen #aemon targaryen x reader #bonniebird

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wheneverfeasible · 3 days ago

Note

I saw your post about shipping Wayne with people and I must raise you: Wayne x Hopper

Bet.

~~~

wc: 3.8k || rating: T+ || tags: referenced homophobia, f-slur, temporary (fake) character death, background steddie, brief background jopper

A tired sigh left Wayne’s lips as he took in the sight before him and leaned against the doorframe of his trailer. This was the third time this had happened, meaning this was just the third time Eddie was caught.

Wayne dragged his eyes from his sheepishly smiling nephew to the police chief standing behind the boy with his arms crossed, his mustache bristling in irritation. Wayne dropped his hand from where it was pinching the bridge of his nose to offer Hopper a rueful smile of his own.

“Sorry, Chief,” he mumbled.

A grunt was all he got in answer, but at least Hopper was moving to undo the handcuffs binding his nephew’s wrists behind his back. The slight tuft of hair growing back after that unfortunate buzzcut looked like a rat’s nest, but at least the kid was grinning up at him instead of scowling. Small mercies.

“Next time I catch him skipping school, Munson, I’m throwing him in the drunk tank. I don’t care if he’s a minor,” Hopper warned threateningly, shoving Eddie between the shoulder blades towards his uncle.

Wayne swiftly clasped Eddie by the shoulders and pushed him into the trailer before Eddie could retaliate with a rude hand gesture like he knew the kid wanted to do. Elizabeth would faint if she had been around to see it, he was certain, lord rest her soul.

“Don’t worry, Chief. I’ll personally drive him to and from school if I have to,” Wayne grimaced, which caused Eddie to squawk from behind him. Though, not out of embarrassment as he had originally thought.

“Uncle Wayne! You can’t miss work like that!” Eddie exclaimed, looking genuinely worried. And it was true; if Wayne had to call out any more than he already had since his brother Al started leaving Eddie home alone, his hours might get cut even more than they already were. Or worse.

Wayne raised a single eyebrow at Eddie, pleased that his nephew was sweet enough to worry about him, but also hoping it got the point across. “Then let’s hope I won’t have any reason to do so,” he dryly remarked.

Eddie looked appropriately shamefaced, his big dark eyes dropping to the floor as he dragged the toes of his ratty shoes over the ground. Wayne eyed him a moment longer before turning back to look at Hopper with an apologetic expression.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“See that you do,” Hopper gruffly stated, looking away for a moment before letting out a sigh of his own. “I can only cut the kid so much slack. I don’t want to see him go down the same road as his pop.”

Wayne winced a little, his younger brother always a sore point for his nephew, who stiffened before huffing and walking back towards Wayne’s room—which frequently became Eddie’s room when Wayne made him stay with him instead of living in that old house all by his lonesome.

“He’s a good kid, Hop,” Wayne murmured, despite the sound of the bedroom door slamming. “He’s more like Elizabeth than he is Alan.”

Hopper glanced off to the side where Wayne’s bedroom was located. “Let’s hope he’s got some of his uncle in him too,” he muttered, which caused Wayne to feel a small flush of embarrassed pride. “Elizabeth was a good sort, but…”

Well, she had married Al, hadn’t she? Wayne got what Hopper meant.

Wayne took the few steps down to grab Eddie’s backpack Hopper held out, clapping his shoulder with a small nod of thanks. He knew that Hopper was the only one who cut the kid any sort of slack at all, knew that if it had been one of his deputies or officers that Wayne would be picking Eddie up at the jailhouse instead.

“I appreciate it, Chief. Really I do.”

Hopper just gave another grunt before stepping back. “Nothing against you, Wayne, but let’s stop meeting like this, yeah?”

Wayne couldn’t help but give another small grin. “I could invite you in for coffee so it seems less like a business call,” he lightly teased. “Or if you got a thermos, at least let me top you off.”

Hopper shook his head, though a good portion of his earlier irritation seemed to have left him, a corner of his mustache tilting up slightly with a half-smile. “I’d say next time, but let’s hope there’s not a next time.”

It still felt a little strange to be anything less than completely professional with a lawman, but then Hopper wasn’t like most other police officers. He remembered years ago, back before Hopper had been chief, when the then deputy had caught Wayne in a compromising position with another man.

Now, Wayne knew he wasn’t perfect. Just like his brother after him and their father before them, he was a high school dropout. It wasn’t necessarily by choice, if anything it seemed almost like the curse of Munson men, though he’d be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to encourage his nephew to strive for something greater.

Wayne was…content, he supposed, with his situation in life now. Sure, he might wish he didn’t have to work so much just to barely make ends meet, but he earned everything he had through good, honest hard work. But he got lonely sometimes, and for people like him, well…there wasn’t much for a man to do when he preferred the company of other men.

He knew it had been stupid to do it, knew it was a damn risk, but he’d still let Reggie Thompson crowd him against the brick alley wall by the sickly sweet smelling dumpster outside the bar. And it had been great at first—minus the dumpster—but then the flashing lights of a police cruiser had ignited their hiding place and Reggie took off without a glance back at him, Wayne fumbling with his jeans that had been shoved down to his knees.

Newly minted Deputy James Hopper had caught him like that, literal pants down, unable to deny what he had been up to with another man. Wayne felt the cold certainty that he was about to be beaten to death, or worse, and just hoped it would be quick. A cop catching a fag in action? Yeah, there had only been one way Wayne saw that playing out.

Except…Hopper had looked uncomfortable, embarrassed, but he hadn’t reached for his baton or gun or anything. He didn’t threaten Wayne, or blackmail him, and there was no disgust on his face or in his voice when he’d just warned Wayne off on public indecency and suggested getting a motel room next time. Let him off with a warning instead of a ticket. Or a bloody head.

And that was it.

Hopper never brought it up again after that, never treated Wayne any differently, never harassed him or anything else. Wayne didn’t know if Hopper saw who he had been with beyond a very male body, but Reggie never acted like he’d been accosted afterwards either, though Wayne heard that he’d bought his girlfriend a wedding ring the very next day.

He wouldn’t say he and the police chief were friends or anything, but they were friendly, allowing the two of them to exchange an occasional dry remark, smile, and even a nod of acknowledgment and greeting when crossing paths outside of the times Hopper brought Eddie home. Or Wayne had to bail his brother out of the drunk tank.

And things continued like that for a little while, and much to Wayne’s chagrin, it wasn’t the last time Hopper brought Eddie home to him either. (Even after it was Eddie’s official home, after Al dipped out for good. Wayne would always love his brother, but he could acknowledge that he wasn’t a good man or a good father. Hell, he wasn’t even a good brother.)

Slowly, however, hardly without Wayne realizing it, things began changing between him and Hopper.

It began with Hopper actually accepting a cup of coffee one night when he brought Eddie home from a house party he had crashed out in Loch Nora, much to Eddie’s horror. The look of betrayal he gave Wayne had been hilarious, all things considered.

Then, before Benny’s alleged suicide, Hopper had been leaving the diner when Wayne had entered and Hopper had called out to Benny to add Wayne’s coffee to his tab, a favor returned from their last shared cup together at the trailer. Wayne had protested, then somehow had settled on that he would allow it only if Hopper joined him next time.

And, strangely enough, Hopper did.

It didn’t quite become a regular thing, but if they happened to be in the same place at the same time, they would always join the other. Wayne was there during some bad days of Hopper’s, and Hopper was there when Wayne felt like he was failing Eddie, and eventually he thought he might actually consider them friends.

He didn’t let himself think about what else he felt for the man.

Wayne had actually bought Hopper a beer when he learned that the man had adopted a young girl out of seemingly nowhere, remembering those dark days after his first daughter’s passing. The man looked good, happier than he had in a while, and Wayne found himself enjoying the way his mustache would twitch when he smiled.

Of course, after that first beer, Hopper made Wayne accept a return in favor. Which then had Wayne buying the next round, and Hopper the next after that.

And then Wayne did something very very stupid.

He kissed him.

They had been stumbling out of the bar, laughing and smiling like the friends Wayne was amazed they were, both far drunker than they had initially been intending to be that night. Their bar stools had gotten closer and closer during the night as well, until Wayne could feel the warmth of Hopper’s knee pressed against his own.

Hopper’s voice had been low, a rumble that matched the mischievous look in his eyes, and Wayne was but a simple man. And he was lonely. It was hard being gay in a place like Hawkins, much less when your one-bedroom trailer had your nephew in said bedroom and you slept on the rolling bed in the living room.

So they’d stumbled into the night, laughing about if they should call a cab or walk, Hopper’s hand warm on his lower back to keep balance when the chief’s eyes scanned over to the very same alley he’d once accosted Wayne in years ago.

Wayne’s heart stuttered in his chest, this being the first Hopper acknowledged Wayne’s queerness since that first night, especially when Hopper snorted with a wry smile and crooked smile.

“Still can’t believe making out in filth is worth it,” he huffed, and Wayne was just drunk enough to convince himself he heard curiosity there.

Wayne shoved his fear down to grin at Hopper, reaching out to grab his shirt’s lapel and dragged Hopper into the alley, the other man letting out another amused snort.

“You’ll find that you’re willing to put up with a lot of shit if you’re desperate enough,” he teased in return. The dumpster’s location had moved since he was there last, but no matter. Wayne found a spot and quickly turned himself so that he was falling back against the rough bricks and grinned once more at Hopper.

Who, because of Wayne’s grip on his shirt, was forced to stumble forward with him, his hands shooting out to catch himself on the alley wall, bracketing Wayne in between his arms.

“See?” Wayne breathed, his eyes dropping to where Hopper’s lips were partly hidden by his mustache there. He swallowed, licked his lips, and felt a thrill when Hopper’s eyes tracked the movement. “Not so bad, is it?”

Hopper took a small step closer, and Wayne could feel the heat of him radiating against him. And he was so, so lonely. He’d given up looking for companionship once Eddie moved in with him, not that he’d had much of a selection to begin with, unless he left town for one of the bigger cities.

“No,” Hopper had rumbled, voice lower than ever, and Wayne’s toes curled in his boots. “Not bad at all.”

Wayne released Hopper’s shirt to press his hand flat against Hopper’s chest, his thumb lightly stroking over the hair that peaked out between the open buttons. Hopper shivered against him, but made no move to stop him. Emboldened, Wayne then slid his hand up, curling it behind Hopper’s neck, feeling the air between them grow thicker, heavier. Needier. His other hand settled on Hopper’s hip.

“Wayne—” Hopper started to say, leaning in, but Wayne was already ahead of him.

He tugged Hopper closer, pressing their lips together, wasting no time in tasting the lingering beer on Hopper’s tongue as he opened his mouth up to him. Hopper groaned, pressing even closer as his hands moved to Wayne’s hips, holding him against the wall. It only took a brief shift of his hips to slot a thigh between Hopper’s, making the man groan even louder and rock forward against him.

Wayne felt the insane urge to ask if that was a gun in Hopper’s pocket, but he had no intention of releasing Hopper’s mouth to do so. Instead, he rutted up, rocking with Hopper in the dirty alley as their tongues slid together, all but moaning in Hopper’s mouth as he felt Hopper’s answering desire against his own.

And then a can clattered at the entrance of the alley, causing the two men to suddenly jerk apart, staring wide eyed as a drunk stumbled past the mouth of the alley without seeing them. Wayne pressed a hand to his chest before turning in sudden horrified realization towards Hopper.

The police chief.

Who he had just assaulted, if Hopper chose to see it that way.

And Hopper wouldn’t meet his eyes, was scrunched in on himself, and Wayne felt a brief fear that Eddie wouldn’t ever know what happened to him. Cops were good at hiding bodies.

Hopper didn’t lash out, however. He didn’t reassure Wayne, but he didn’t hit him either. Instead he just stood there in a silence that Wayne didn’t dare break. Until finally, with a pained glance in Wayne’s direction, Hopper murmured a quiet ‘sorry’ and then quickly left the alley without another look behind him.

Wayne wondered briefly if he should tell Eddie to sleep at a friend’s for the next few days, just in case a mob showed up at the trailer, but then he felt immediately bad for thinking such things of Hopper.

Life continued on, though the once easy companionship he and Hopper had shared was now clearly over. Wayne heard it through the grapevine that Chief Hopper and Joyce Byers were going to go on a date.

Wayne hated gossip.

He hated he couldn’t stop listening for it even more.

And then Hopper died.

Wayne couldn’t go to the memorial service. They had been friends, once, though things had been strained between them after the alley. Back to being acquaintances, back to being strangers. Now they were nothing.

It wasn’t the first time he had to mourn someone in secret, but this time hurt far worse.

He was forced to confront the true depth of his feelings for the man he would never see again.

Then, months later, he walked into his trailer to find the mutilated remains of a dead cheerleader, his nephew nowhere to be found.

It was the worst week of his life. He couldn’t lose anyone else, he couldn’t, especially not his sweet boy. It would kill him.

And then, miracle of miracles, his nephew was found. Hurt, broken, but alive. Rushed to the hospital by the Harrington boy with their younger neighbor, but alive.

He was put in a medical coma while he healed, and believe it or not but it was Harrington—or Steve, as he asked to be called—who ranted and bitched and demanded that Eddie not be handcuffed to his bed when he wasn’t even conscious and wouldn’t be until the hospital let him.

It was Steve who, on the other side facing Wayne and the door, sat beside Eddie’s bed more often than not. And when he wasn’t, he was usually at the Mayfield girl’s, or volunteering with the relief effort.

Steve was there that day, facing the door Wayne had his back to, when he glanced up from the magazine he was reading with a heavy sigh of relief.

“Thank god. Have your creeps cleared the charges yet?” Steve huffed with a roll of his eyes.

Wayne was just in the process of turning around to see who Steve was talking to when he heard his voice.

“Jesus, kid, there were some things that were a little more important than clearing someone in a coma. No offense, Wayne.”

Wayne froze, his breath caught in his throat. It was impossible. And yet, as he slowly turned around, there he was: Hopper.

He was skinnier, and balder, than the last time he’d seen him. And missing his mustache. Hell, he looked more like Wayne now than Wayne did, his own facial hair far scragglier as he hadn’t cared about its upkeep while his nephew was in the hospital.

“Hop?” he gasped, standing swiftly from his chair and making an aborted movement to reach out for his old friend, before remembering they weren’t like that anymore. He drew back, but couldn’t stop the way his eyes roamed over Hopper in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Hopper said, quieter, and if Wayne could believe it, more self-consciously.

“Well I take offense,” Steve said with his hands on his hips, standing now to frown at Hopper. “I don’t care what story they want to use, they just better clear his name. After everything we’ve went through because of them, it’s the least they can do.”

Hopper sighed, rolling his eyes in that exaggerated way he had, like everyone else was a pain in his ass. Wayne loved it.

“Yeah, yeah. Send them a therapy bill,” Hopper muttered. He then indicated with a thumb over his shoulder to the door. “Go get something to eat, kid. You look worse than me.”

Steve grinned then, a little cheeky. “Yeah,” he agreed with a laugh. “Welcome to the club, by the way, comrade. Robin’s making us tee shirts.”

“I look forward to it. Now go on before I call Buckley and tell her you’re bleeding out.”

Steve looked horrified at that threat, swiftly grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair he’d been in and hurrying out the door. “The doctor said the stitches are healing perfectly!” he grumbled in complaint as he left.

And then it was just Wayne and Hopper. And Eddie, technically. Hopefully he couldn’t hear any of this, because it was getting harder and harder not to let the tears building up behind his eyes loose. Not that there was anything wrong with crying, of course.

Wayne had always taught Eddie to feel his feelings, instead of shoving them down under the false belief that men were weren’t supposed to cry. Being sensitive didn’t mean being weak.

He felt weak now though.

“Hopper? Are you really…”

Hopper scrubbed a hand over his shaved head, looking down at his boots for a moment before glancing back up at Wayne. “It’s, uh…kind of a long story. But I’m alive. Officially again. And don’t tell Steve, the brat, but Eddie’s cleared too. He’s free to go home as soon as he’s healed up enough. The doctors are going to bring him out of the coma soon.”

A gasping sob of relief left Wayne before he could stop it, twin fat tears rolling down his cheeks, followed by more. Not only was his nephew alive, healing, and cleared of all charges, but the man he thought he had lost forever was alive and standing right before him.

Sure, he couldn’t have him the way he wanted, but just having him alive was enough. He wouldn’t dare look that gift horse in the mouth. There had been no body to bury, believed to have been lost in the fire, but now he knew why.

Hopper looked conflicted, and then he was glancing over his shoulder at the open door. Wayne tried to reel his tears back in, Hopper obviously looking for an escape, but Wayne wasn’t fast enough and Hopper was once more striding towards the door and away from him.

Except…except Hopper didn’t leave through the door. No, he closed it, throwing the lock and then turning on his heel and striding with purpose back towards Wayne. Before Wayne could even think to flinch, however, Hopper’s hands were caging his face and drawing him forward and—

The kiss tasted of tears.

It didn’t hold the desperate heat like it had in the alley, yet Wayne was gasping into it regardless. One of Hopper’s hands left his face to wrap around his back, pulling him closer, and Wayne might be a middle aged man who did hard labor for a living, but he swore he felt his knees go weak.

Hopper pulled back slowly, though he didn’t go far, pressing his forehead to Wayne’s with a soft breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “The entire time, all I could think about was that I had to come back, for El, and for you.”

“Hop…” Wayne’s thoughts were racing. He had a million questions he wanted to asked, like how was he even here right now, where had he been, what was going on, but all that could escape him was: “Joyce?”

Hopper snorted, pulling away with a small wry smile and shake of his head. “I had thought…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I thought the spark was still there between us, thought it was what I wanted, but…all I could think about was you. I miss our friendship, Wayne. I would lay awake at night, wondering how things might have turned out differently if I hadn’t left that night in the alley.”

Wayne shook his head, trying desperately to get his thoughts in order. He had to be dreaming. He just had to be. Yet…there was Hopper, solid and real and and warm and alive.

“I don’t need you to…to be something you’re not, Jim,” he finally managed to get out after clearing his throat, stepping further away and wiping at his face. “I just need you alive. And hopefully as a friend.”

Hopper studied him for a moment, and there was a darkness to his eyes that reminded Wayne of how they used to look back when Vietnam had been fresher, the darkness of a soldier who had seen far too much bloodshed. But there was also something he’d never seen before too, at least not directed at himself. Not from Hopper.

“You have me as a friend, Wayne, always.” Hopper reached out, slowly, to take Wayne’s hand in his. He’d never been the touchy-feely short, Hopper, but now he brought Wayne’s hand to his chest, holding it there beneath his own. “But also…hopefully as something more.”

More.

He couldn’t have stopped the smile on his face even if he’d tried.

Wayne wanted more.

Later, Eddie would be brought out of the coma. Later, Eddie would come home to their new government funded bungalow. Later, Wayne would find Steve as attached to Eddie’s side as he had been in the hospital. Later, he would find Steve in Eddie’s bed, instead of beside it. Later, Wayne would get to see Eddie smile, hear him laugh, and watch him fall in love with a boy who loved him back.

Later, Eddie would catch Wayne and Hopper in a compromising position and complain that, when he said ‘fuck the police’, he didn’t mean it like that.

Later, Wayne would have his more. He would have his everything.

This is only Steddie adjacent but y’all are getting tagged anyways.

Hostage Hotties:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife

@everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes

#ask and ye shall receive #i present to you #whopper #wayne munson/jim hopper #gay wayne munson #bisexual jim hopper #uncle wayne #wayne munson #jim hopper #eddie munson #steve harrington #background steddie #steddie #stranger things #rare pair #plot thots #answered asks

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novaursa · 2 days ago

Text

A Lion's Leap (flight of fancy)

- Summary: The king announces the betrothal of his youngest daughter, you, to Tyland Lannister. But even the Lannister Lord is taken off guard, as there has been some miscommunication regarding the proposal.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: peace is a Targaryen illusion

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @misspendragonsworld

The dining hall was filled with the clinking of silverware and the low murmur of conversation as your family finally gathered for a quiet meal. Tyland, visibly relieved to have everyone safely back at Casterly Rock, was halfway through his meal, savoring the rare moment of calm.

Young Daemon and Alyssa, fresh from their impromptu dragon race across Westeros, were seated across from you, looking a little too smug and, frankly, a little too energized. You had just leaned over to refill Tyland’s goblet when Daemon piped up, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“So, Mother, Father,” he began casually, his tone far too innocent, “you’ll never guess who we encountered on our way to Storm’s End.”

Tyland paused, fork halfway to his mouth, giving his son a wary look. “Oh? Do tell.”

Alyssa leaned forward, grinning. “Uncle Aemond. He was on Vhagar.”

The entire hall seemed to freeze for a split second. Tyland’s fork dropped back onto his plate with a clatter as he processed what his daughter had just said.

“Uncle... Aemond,” he repeated slowly, as if hoping he’d misheard. “On... Vhagar. And what, precisely, did you do?”

Daemon shrugged, taking a bite of bread with the most casual expression in the world. “Nothing much, really. Just raced him a little. Played with him in the sky. You know, family bonding.”

Tyland’s mouth opened, then closed, as if he was trying to find the right response and failing spectacularly. “Family... bonding? With Aemond? While riding Vhagar?”

Alyssa nodded enthusiastically, barely containing her laughter. “Oh, yes. Vhagar looked a bit annoyed with us, actually. At one point, she even crashed into one of Storm’s End’s towers. It was a... close encounter.”

Tyland visibly paled, his hand slowly lowering the goblet he’d been about to drink from. “You’re telling me that you... you crashed Aemond and Vhagar into Storm’s End?”

Daemon snorted, trying to hide a grin. “Oh, it was just a nudge, really. Viseron and Grey Ghost were simply showing her who’s faster.”

Alyssa leaned in, looking far too pleased with herself. “Uncle Aemond didn’t seem to take it well. He was shouting, something about us ‘interfering with his duties.’” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Honestly, he could stand to loosen up a bit.”

Tyland pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. “Loosen up… loosen up. My children ‘nudged’ the largest dragon in Westeros into a tower and left their half-uncle seething. This is what they call a ‘casual encounter.’”

You hid a smirk, nudging him gently. “They’re just proving themselves as true Targaryens, Tyland. It’s tradition.”

Tyland shot you a look that was half-amused, half-pleading. “Tradition? This family’s ‘traditions’ are going to be the end of me.” He turned back to the kids, his voice a touch more serious. “And what if Aemond had, oh, I don’t know... retaliated?”

Daemon scoffed, waving a hand. “Oh, please, Father. We had it all under control. Besides, Aemond doesn’t scare that easily. Well, he does when Grey Ghost and Viseron team up against Vhagar.”

Alyssa snickered, giving her brother a fist bump. “Did you see his face when he realized we’d turned back west and left him behind?”

Tyland let out a long, exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache. “Wonderful. My children are causing diplomatic incidents in midair and taunting their half-uncle on the largest dragon in Westeros. I can already hear the ravens arriving with complaints.”

You chuckled, placing a hand over Tyland’s and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Look at it this way, love. They’re just proving that they can handle themselves—and maybe teach Aemond a lesson in humility along the way.”

Tyland looked at you, his mouth quirking in a resigned smile. “Handling themselves is one thing. Turning Storm’s End into a battlefield because they thought it’d be ‘fun’ is another.”

Daemon and Alyssa exchanged grins, entirely unfazed by their father’s distress. Alyssa leaned back, stretching her arms with a satisfied sigh. “Well, I suppose we should be proud, right? Not every day you send Vhagar and Aemond scrambling.”

Tyland shook his head, but a reluctant smile crept onto his face as he watched his children, clearly too proud to stay mad. “Only my children would consider taunting Aemond and Vhagar to be an afternoon sport.”

Daemon shrugged with a grin. “We aim to keep things interesting, Father.”

With a sigh and a chuckle, Tyland raised his goblet in a toast, the last of his frustrations melting away. “To interesting times, then. May we survive them.”

And as laughter filled the hall, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for your children—and a little sympathy for Aemond, who was likely still picking pieces of Storm’s End out of his armor.

When Aemond returned to King’s Landing, the mood was anything but light. He stormed into the Red Keep, his one eye blazing with fury and his armor still flecked with bits of stone and dust from his less-than-graceful landing at Storm’s End. It was all he could do to grit his teeth as servants scrambled to clear a path for him, and more than a few cast nervous glances at the faint scorch marks on his cloak, courtesy of Vhagar’s impatient maneuvers.

By the time he reached the council chambers, where his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, his grandsire Otto Hightower, and his brother, King Aegon, were gathered, Aemond was practically vibrating with frustration.

Alicent looked up, immediately noticing his disheveled appearance. “Aemond,” she gasped, rushing to him with concern. “What happened? You look as though you’ve flown through a storm.”

“Or into one,” Aegon snickered, lounging on his chair and looking thoroughly amused. He took in the state of his brother’s attire, eyebrow raised. “Care to explain why you look like a tower fell on you, dear brother?”

Aemond shot Aegon a glare that could have curdled milk. “Because a tower did fall on me, thanks to those meddling Lannister-Targaryen whelps,” he spat. “Tyland’s children. They intercepted me on my way to Storm’s End and decided it would be… amusing to taunt me and Vhagar.”

Otto leaned forward, his expression tightening. “Tyland’s children? Alyssa and young Daemon? What were they doing near Storm’s End?”

“Apparently using it as their personal racetrack,” Aemond growled, crossing his arms. “They swooped in, taunted me, and made a mockery of the whole situation. And Vhagar... well, she’s not exactly designed for their little games. The result was... less than dignified.”

Aegon burst out laughing, unable to contain himself. “So, let me get this straight—two Lannister’s on smaller dragons managed to rile up Vhagar and get you to crash into a tower?” He shook his head, chuckling. “Oh, Aemond, that is rich. I would have paid good coin to see that.”

Aemond’s glare deepened, his face turning a shade of red that would have made a dragon proud. “Laugh all you want, but Lord Borros was less than pleased to find half of his tower crumbled on account of my... ‘landing.’ He was ranting about ‘disrespect to his castle’ and demanded to know how I would compensate him for the repairs.”

Otto sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “Wonderful. So not only did you fail to complete your task without incident, but now we have a disgruntled Baratheon to appease.”

Alicent looked pained, glancing between her sons. “Aemond, I don’t understand why Tyland’s children would risk such an encounter. Surely they knew what... difficulties this could cause?”

Aemond threw his hands up in exasperation. “Difficulties? They were enjoying themselves! Laughing and darting around Vhagar like it was all a game. They even called it ‘family bonding’ as they maneuvered her into the tower.”

Aegon couldn’t help himself; he laughed even harder. “They called it ‘family bonding’? Gods, that’s brilliant. I’m beginning to like these two more and more.”

Otto’s face tightened with displeasure as he looked over at Aegon, his voice cold. “This is not a laughing matter, Aegon. These antics are not only reckless but a direct challenge to your rule. Tyland’s children mocking Aemond? What message does that send to our allies?”

Aegon shrugged, still grinning. “Perhaps that my dear brother needs to learn how to handle a bit of friendly family rivalry.” He smirked at Aemond, clearly relishing his discomfort. “Or at least learn how to keep his dragon from knocking down a tower.”

Alicent placed a calming hand on Aemond’s shoulder, though her expression was laced with worry. “Aemond, perhaps it would be wise to consider this an isolated incident. The Lannister children… well, they are still young like you. Surely they meant no true harm.”

Aemond huffed, his jaw clenched. “Young or not, they’re Tyland’s children, and they need to learn respect.” He shot Otto a look of simmering anger. “And if they’re this bold now, who’s to say what they’ll do next?”

Otto nodded, looking thoughtful. “We’ll need to consider this carefully. An alliance with the Baratheons could be at risk if Lord Borros feels slighted by the royal family’s behavior.”

Aegon snickered, leaning back in his seat. “Perhaps we send Aemond back with a new tower for Lord Borros. Maybe he can make it there without another collision.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, and he looked ready to launch into a full-blown tirade. But before he could, Otto raised a hand to silence him. “Enough. We will handle the Baratheons diplomatically. And Aemond,” Otto added with a warning look, “perhaps it’s time to rethink how we engage with our kin in these... unexpected encounters.”

Aemond muttered something dark under his breath, but nodded reluctantly. Meanwhile, Aegon, still thoroughly entertained, leaned over to Alicent with a smirk.

“Mother, I do believe these Targaryen-Lannister whelps might just become my favorite relatives,” he whispered, chuckling as he watched Aemond sulk in his chair, stone dust still clinging to his armor.

And so, with a mix of frustration and laughter, the council dispersed, leaving Aemond fuming and Aegon thoroughly amused. Aegon couldn’t resist one last jab as they exited the hall. “Next time, dear brother, try keeping up with our nephew and niece, eh?”

The sun was setting over the gardens of Casterly Rock as you strolled arm-in-arm with Tyland. For once, everything seemed peaceful. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and Tyland was even smiling, a rare look of pure contentment on his face.

“Isn’t it nice?” he murmured, squeezing your hand as you walked down the garden path. “Just the two of us, no interruptions, no sheep falling from the sky…”

You chuckled, leaning into him. “Yes, it is rare, isn’t it? Just us.”

He paused, looking down at you with a soft smile. “I’ve missed these moments with you. Sometimes it feels as if we’re surrounded by chaos—dragons, children, Targaryen family politics…”

“Ah,” you teased, “but you love it. Admit it. Life would be dull without a little Targaryen chaos.”

Tyland gave you a look that was half amused, half resigned. “Perhaps I could manage with a little less of it.”

Just as he leaned in, ready to kiss you, a loud rumble shook the ground, followed by a resounding crash that echoed through the garden. Tyland froze, his shoulders slumping. “Please tell me that was just thunder,” he muttered, though he didn’t sound remotely convinced.

You turned toward the noise, sighing. “That was definitely not thunder.”

As if on cue, Viseron’s massive, bronze-scaled head appeared over a nearby hedge, his golden-green eyes gleaming with mischief. He was holding something in his jaws, and as he lowered his head, it became clear it was… the statue of some old Lannister ancestor, now missing its head.

Tyland groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, for the love of… not again, Viseron!”

Viseron let out a low rumble that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, dropping the statue in the middle of the garden path with a heavy thud. Dust flew up, coating a few delicate rose bushes, which made the dragon’s antics all the more pronounced.

“Lovely,” Tyland muttered, waving a hand to clear the dust. “It was one of our finest statues, and now it’s... well, it’s headless.”

Viseron, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, nudged the statue’s decapitated head closer to Tyland, as if offering a gift. The dragon’s eyes sparkled with a hint of defiance, almost as if he were daring Tyland to scold him.

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. “I think he’s trying to say he’s... helping.”

Tyland gave you a long-suffering look. “Helping? How is this helping?”

You shrugged, grinning. “Who’s to say he doesn’t just appreciate a little remodeling?”

Viseron gave an indignant huff, his nostrils flaring as he nudged the statue head even closer, nearly knocking Tyland off his feet. Tyland stumbled backward, clutching your arm for balance, and muttered, “At this rate, he’ll take down all of Casterly Rock.”

You laughed, patting Viseron’s massive muzzle. “Well, maybe he thought your ancestor looked a bit too... serious.”

Tyland shook his head, clearly torn between annoyance and reluctant amusement. “He’s giving the courtyard a ‘Targaryen touch,’ isn’t he?”

You nodded, patting Tyland’s arm. “Consider it a new kind of alliance, love. Lannister architecture meets Targaryen... flair.”

Viseron let out a satisfied rumble, seeming very pleased with your endorsement. He lifted his head back up, looking around the garden with an air of triumph, as if assessing what else could use a bit of “improvement.”

Tyland held up a hand, his voice rising slightly. “Oh no, that’s quite enough for one day, Viseron. Unless you’re planning to take on the pruning, I’d suggest you... find a quieter way to amuse yourself.”

But Viseron only tilted his head, giving Tyland a pointed look that seemed to say, You can’t stop me, before lumbering back through the garden, his tail knocking over a few decorative urns as he went.

You laughed, pulling Tyland close as you watched the dragon disappear. “There’s never a dull moment, is there?”

Tyland sighed, glancing down at you with a rueful smile. “Not with you, my love. And yet... I suppose I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you watched Viseron disappear back into the depths of the gardens, causing a few more ominous crashes along the way, you turned to Tyland with a gleam in your eye. “You know,” you began, your voice playful, “since Viseron seems to have taken over the garden, why don’t we go somewhere he can’t interrupt? Silverwing’s nearby… we could go flying together.”

Tyland’s face went pale, his eyes widening in horror as he took an instinctive step back. “Flying? Now? With you… in your condition?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Tyland, I was on dragonback through both of my previous pregnancies.”

He swallowed, trying desperately to come up with a reasonable excuse. “Yes, but… that was different. You were… well, not at war, or… necessary travel. Right now, we’re just… at home. Grounded! Quite literally. No need to be… airborne.”

You laughed, taking his hand. “Come now, Silverwing is as gentle as can be. She adores me, and besides…” you leaned in closer, “she loves you too.”

Tyland gave a strangled sort of laugh, his expression dubious. “Loves me? I’m convinced she’s been eyeing me as a mid-afternoon snack ever since we fled King’s Landing.” He shuddered, clearly remembering the many close encounters with your dragon’s intense, unblinking gaze. “The last time she looked at me, I swear she was… sizing me up.”

“Tyland,” you teased, rolling your eyes, “Silverwing is not going to eat you. She’s sweet and patient. She’d never harm a hair on your head.”

“That’s what you think,” he muttered, his tone a mixture of resignation and barely hidden dread. “But every time I’m near her, she looks at me like… well, like she’s reconsidering.”

You stifled a laugh, looping your arm through his and giving him a reassuring pat. “She only looked at you that way because you were so tense the last time. You know, dragons pick up on fear.”

Tyland gave a resigned sigh, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Silverwing to suddenly materialize behind him. “Fear or not, I can’t shake the feeling she’s just waiting for the right moment.”

“Well,” you said, unable to hide your amusement, “there’s only one way to get over that, isn’t there? A nice, peaceful flight together.”

Tyland’s jaw tightened, and he gave you a pleading look, as if hoping you might reconsider. “Are you… entirely sure we can’t just go for a stroll instead? A grounded stroll. A quiet one. No dragons involved?”

“Tyland,” you said, leaning in close and giving him a playful nudge, “you’re my husband, the father of dragons. It’s time you embraced your destiny.”

He looked at you, his face a mixture of exasperation and reluctant fondness. “A stroll with Targaryens and their dragons always ends in flight, doesn’t it?”

You only grinned, taking his hand firmly as you began leading him toward the nearby cliffside where Silverwing often sunbathed. “Come on, love. She’ll be thrilled to see you. You might even find you enjoy it.”

Tyland let out a long-suffering sigh, following you with all the air of a man resigned to his fate. “If I end up in her stomach, please tell the children I fought bravely.”

You laughed, giving his hand a squeeze. “Trust me, by the end of this flight, you’ll wonder why you ever hesitated.”

But as Silverwing lifted her head, greeting you with a gentle rumble, Tyland shot her a wary glance, muttering under his breath. “Yes, thrilled to see me. Or thrilled at the thought of finally having me to herself in the sky…”

And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh as the three of you prepared for another unforgettable Targaryen-Lannister adventure.

As you and Tyland made your way toward the rocky cliffs where Silverwing was basking in the afternoon sun, Tyland’s steps grew slower and more hesitant. He shot you a sideways glance, his brows knitted with apprehension. “You know,” he murmured, “I think Silverwing looks perfectly comfortable here on her own. Perhaps it’s best we don’t disturb her…”

You laughed, tightening your hold on his arm and pulling him forward. “Tyland, she’s a dragon. If she didn’t want to be disturbed, we’d know it.”

Silverwing lay sprawled across the rocks, her scales gleaming in the sunlight. Her head was resting on a ledge, one massive eye closed in what seemed to be a blissful nap. But as you approached, that eye cracked open, and she fixed her gaze on Tyland.

Tyland tensed, immediately taking a step back. “Ah, see? She’s looking at me again,” he whispered, his tone slightly panicked. “It’s like she knows I didn’t want to come.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging him closer. “She’s just curious, that’s all. Besides, she likes you, Tyland. She knows you’re part of the family.”

“Part of the family? Or part of the menu?” he muttered, eyeing Silverwing as she let out a slow, rumbling sound that echoed through the rocks.

As if sensing his discomfort, Silverwing tilted her head slightly, her eye narrowing with what almost looked like amusement. You stroked her snout gently, murmuring a few soft words in Valyrian, and Silverwing let out a low rumble, her gaze shifting from you to Tyland and back again.

“See?” you said, giving Tyland an encouraging smile. “She’s perfectly relaxed.”

Tyland looked anything but convinced. “Relaxed, yes. She’s probably thinking about how best to… savor the experience.”

You stifled a laugh. “Tyland, Silverwing is a dragon of peace. She’s sweet, gentle, and not at all inclined toward… dining on family members.”

He gave you a skeptical look. “Then why is she eyeing me like that? I feel like she’s assessing my… flavor profile.”

Ignoring his theatrics, you took his hand and led him closer to Silverwing, who watched his approach with mild interest. As he neared, Tyland took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. “Right,” he muttered under his breath. “Just a harmless, massive dragon. Nothing to worry about.”

Silverwing let out another low rumble, lifting her head slightly as if inviting you both to approach. You gave her a reassuring pat, then turned to Tyland, smiling. “See? She’s being welcoming.”

Tyland swallowed, casting a wary glance up at Silverwing. “Yes, welcoming. Very… welcoming. But forgive me if I don’t interpret ‘welcoming’ as hovering one’s teeth at face level.”

You laughed, motioning for him to take your hand as you prepared to mount Silverwing’s saddle. “Come on, love. It’s not so bad once you’re up there. Just… hold on tight.”

With a mixture of resignation and reluctance, Tyland climbed up behind you, his arms locking around your waist with a grip that could probably bend steel. “I’m holding on, alright,” he muttered. “You’ll be prying me off when this is over.”

Silverwing adjusted beneath you, her wings stretching slightly as she prepared for takeoff. Tyland’s breath hitched, and he muttered something about making peace with the gods. “I swear,” he whispered into your ear, “if we make it back alive, I’ll never complain about garden strolls again.”

You chuckled, reaching back to squeeze his hand. “Relax, Tyland. Silverwing’s going to give you the smoothest ride you’ve ever had.”

Silverwing let out one final, rumbling sound, as if to say Let’s show him, before launching into the air with a graceful leap. Tyland’s startled yelp was lost in the wind as you both soared over Casterly Rock, his grip tightening as he clung to you for dear life.

The servants and guards of Casterly Rock had grown somewhat accustomed to the unusual since the Targaryen family had made their “extended visit.” They’d endured dragons sunbathing on walls, sheep being used as airborne toys, and the occasional charred walls. But today’s spectacle was a new level of… chaotic entertainment.

As Silverwing soared above Casterly Rock, carrying both you and a very vocal Tyland, the courtyard below erupted with activity. Servants peered up, shielding their eyes against the sun, while guards squinted, some rubbing their temples as if questioning what they were seeing.

“Is that… is that Lord Tyland?” one guard murmured, his brow furrowing as he strained to see. “Is he… screaming?”

Another guard, stifling a grin, nodded. “Aye. Clear as day, that’s our lord up there. Not quite as regal as I’d have imagined him on dragonback, though.”

“Looks more like he’s holding on for dear life than enjoying himself,” a maid observed, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and amusement. “I didn’t even know Lord Tyland could scream that high.”

Meanwhile, Alyssa and young Daemon were in the courtyard, preparing to take off on their own dragons. They both looked skyward, watching with glee as Silverwing swooped and glided above, their father’s increasingly desperate yelps echoing down to the assembled crowd.

“Do you think Father’s enjoying himself?” Alyssa asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Young Daemon shrugged, grinning. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it once he’s back on solid ground. Besides, Mother’s with him. What could go wrong?”

One of the stable boys shook his head, unable to suppress his laughter. “Your father looks like he’s just seen the Stranger himself up there. If he survives this, I’m betting he won’t be eager to go flying again anytime soon.”

Just then, another particularly loud scream floated down, followed by what sounded suspiciously like “Put me down!”

A few of the castle cooks, who had ventured outside to witness the commotion, exchanged knowing looks. “He’s braver than I gave him credit for,” one said with a chuckle, “but I wager he’ll be needing a strong drink after this.”

The older castle steward, who had seen his fair share of Lannister antics over the years, folded his arms, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Well, it’s not every day we get to see our lord acting like a nervous kitten. He’ll be back with his feet on the ground soon enough. Though… I don’t suppose anyone’s told him about the dragons his children are preparing to take out next?”

At that moment, Alyssa mounted Grey Ghost, giving a final check of her saddle before looking up at her father with an impish grin. “Good luck, Father!” she shouted, her voice barely carrying to the airborne figures. “You’ll be a true Targaryen in no time!”

Young Daemon climbed onto Viseron, offering his own enthusiastic wave. “Hang on tight, Father! The second flight’s always the hardest!”

The guards stifled chuckles as Tyland’s scream floated down again, this time with a barely coherent, “This isn’t… necessary!”

One of the handmaidens leaned in toward her friend, snickering. “I’ve never seen Lord Tyland look quite so… vulnerable. Poor man thought marrying a Targaryen would be the end of his adventures. Little did he know.”

The steward chuckled, shaking his head. “I dare say he’ll survive. And I suppose we’ll be dealing with dragon antics for a long while yet. Best get used to it.”

As Silverwing circled once more, Tyland’s final desperate shout of “Ground! I need ground!” echoed over the entire castle, met with the resounding laughter of his children and the barely concealed smiles of every servant and guard below.

In the end, Casterly Rock’s staff had one more tale to tell about their lord and his Targaryen wife—a tale that would undoubtedly grow in amusement with every retelling.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #hotd tyland #tyland lannister #tyland x reader #tyland x you #tyland x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #a lion's leap #silverwing

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leighsartworks216 · 3 days ago

Text

Writer's Block

Zayne x gn!Reader

I've been stuck in a bit of a rut trying to write for these boys, so I decided to write a fic about writer's block to get out of my writer's block. To be honest, I have no idea how it worked as well as it did

Warnings: established relationship, swearing, domestic fluff, writer's block, food, eating, cuddling, forehead kisses, references to Clopidogrel the squirrel

Word Count: 2,436

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The little black bar blinks mockingly at you. The only mark on the empty document, taunting you for your lack of creativity, of imagination, of perseverance. Blink, blink, blink. Waiting for you to type anything. And you come up pitifully short.

You sigh and shut your laptop. You look around the living room, at the little knick-knacks you brought from your apartment when you moved in, the cozy blankets strewn about as the days get colder, and the clock on the wall. You could watch TV, pick out a book from the shelf, put together a puzzle…

You open your laptop again. The empty document continues to mock you.

What do you want to write about? Action? Well, you’ve never been very good at writing fight scenes or thrilling chases. How about some romance? Eh, you have no idea where to start with that, and relationship drama sounds about as appealing as a moldy pizza crust from the bottom of a week-old dumpster. If you were a bit cleverer, you would try your hand at a murder mystery.

“Love?”

You hum.

Zayne comes around the sofa to pick up your empty mug from this morning that sits lonely on the coffee table. He looks down at you skeptically. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“No,” you admit. He’d pry it out of you either way; might as well tell the truth. “My brain is stuck, right now. All I want to do is write, but nothing is coming out.”

“Why not take a break?”

“Because nothing else sounds good to do,” you try to explain. “Trying to do anything else feels bad, but trying to write also feels bad.”

He closes your laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Let’s start with getting something to eat. We can go to that music-themed diner we saw the other day.”

You sigh, long and drawn out, but the look he gives you advises you not to argue with him. “Okay.”

He smiles slightly. “Your brain needs time to rest, even if all you want to do is push through it.” He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Go get dressed. Something warm; it’s chilly outside.”

“Yes, doctor.” You draw yourself up from the cushion, body aching from sitting there for so long. He raises an eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek. “Yes, my love.”

“That’s better.” He returns the kiss and heads into the kitchen to rinse out your mug.

You shoot one last glare at your laptop, before going to the bedroom to change.

The drive is mostly quiet. The soft hum of the AC pushing warm air throughout the car being the most prominent sound in the silence. You watch the people passing by, walking or biking along. You try to make little stories for some of them.

While Zayne is stopped at a red light, you point out his window at a teenage girl being pulled along by an overexcited dog. “She stole it from the pound.” He chuckles lightly, caught off guard by the sudden remark. “It’s a gift for her little brother, because their parents won’t let them get a pet. She’s gonna say it was running loose when she found it, and, ‘Oh please, can we keep it? We’ll take good care of it!’”

“Will they let her keep it?” he asks as the light turns green.

You huff and sink into your seat, staring back out of your window. “Who knows?”

He reaches over to hold your hand in your lap. His thumb runs over your knuckles, tracing the familiar path it takes every time you’re upset, brushing over the silver ring on your finger. It’s almost Pavlovian how quickly it soothes you. “I think they just might.”

You know it pains Zayne to see you like this, acting like a petulant child just because you can’t think of a few good words. You lean your head on his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Mhm, but can I anyway?”

He breathes a quiet laugh. “Yes, you can.”

“Then, I’m sorry for acting like this. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Of course. If you would like to make it up to me, we should go to that crepe stand in the park.”

You laugh and pinch his hand. He squeezes you back in return. “Okay, Mr. Sweet Tooth, we can go there after lunch.”

The diner is snug. All sorts of band memorabilia line every inch of the walls. The tables are decorated with images of album covers, protected by a layer of see-through plastic. You manage to snag a booth right by the door, giving you a perfect view into the connected gift shop, lined with instruments and CDs.

As you wait for your food, named after old 1980s and 90s songs, you and Zayne catch up. Small updates on how Yvonne and Greyson are doing, in exchange for an odd article you saw on Moments. You tell him about a cat you saw the other day that you forgot to tell him about, and he updates you on Clopidogrel, the squirrel who comes to his office window to beg for nuts. Once the food arrives, though, conversation is exchanged in favor of listening.

Over the old music blaring a little too loudly in the diner, you listen to the full tables of friends and family that chat. You overhear something about an Aunt Mindy who’s just adopted another parrot, despite already owning three. Someone’s boss who keeps microwaving fish for lunch, and the ongoing notes-on-the-fridge war about it. A friend of a friend of a friend who met some celebrity, or so they say, but they can’t be trusted to tell the truth because of such-and-such.

A couple sitting behind Zayne, right beside the entrance to the gift shop, seem to be on their first date. The guy is talking a lot, even speaking over the girl he’s with at some points. You try not to stare when she suddenly blows up about him not listening to her. He talks over her again to try defending himself. It gets so bad, two staff have to tell them to leave so they stop disturbing everyone else. They don’t even get their food as they stomp out, continuing to complain all the while. Zayne shoots you a look that says he knows you’ll be using this for your writing at some point down the line.

Bellies nearly full, with just enough left for a dessert crepe, Zayne takes a moment to take in the decor. There’s one sign high up on the wall that says, “If you remember the 60s, you weren’t there!” It must be quite old. Really, all of the stuff in here could be considered antique. It’s fascinating to see it being appreciated instead of locked away behind glass; given the chance to live again.

“Feeling better?” he asks as he leads you back to his car, parked in a lot nearby.

“Mhm. But now I keep thinking…”

“About what?”

“How glad I am that none of our dates went that poorly.”

He chuckles softly. You smile and hold onto his arm, leaning into him. “Well, there was that time early on…”

You laugh at the memory. “You should have gone right home! I told you not to worry about dinner!”

“I couldn’t leave you to eat at that restaurant alone, exhausted or otherwise.”

“But then I had to drive you back home, anyway! You know how I don’t like driving your car.”

The car in question unlocks with a beep. He opens up the passenger side door for you to get in. “I’m glad my perseverance didn’t ruin your opinion of me,” he says, before shutting the door and rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat.

Once he gets in, you poke his arm. “Of course not. It just meant I had to get on your ass more about overworking yourself.”

“Yet you still ignore my advice…” He gives you a pointed glance as he starts the car. “Do I have to start getting on your ass about overworking yourself?”

“You already are!”

“I could be far more insistent about it than I currently am.”

“Please don’t.”

The park by the hospital is familiar and welcoming, as always. A light breeze caresses your cheeks as you start walking side by side, and you’re glad you dressed warmly like Zayne said to. Still, you may or may not have used it as an excuse to walk even closer to him, to “conserve heat” as you fake a shiver. He’s so used to your antics by now, he teases you about the possibility of keeping an extra coat and scarf in his car for you.

The people at the crepe stand know you already. You try not to think about how often you must visit for that to be the case, as they ask if you want your usuals and get to building the crepes exactly as you like. Zayne is just patient enough to let you take a quick photo of both of your treats together to post on Moments. You fondly wipe away a small glop of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth that he misses, and he catches your hand before you can put it on his nose instead.

You walk to a secluded little bench that you’ve practically claimed for yourselves. You’ve never seen anyone else sit here, ever. It’s tucked away beside a small pond, where ducks huddle together as they float, flat beaks tucked under their wings as they enjoy an afternoon nap. The bench itself is old and worn down, covered in lichen and carved into by old lovers. But it’s yours.

You sit side by side, watching the waterfowl and enjoying your treats. When you finish your crepe, you lean your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist to keep you close, indulging in being a little more affectionate in the extra bit of privacy you have here. It feels nice, just being here with him.

“Thank you again for this,” you say softly. You can’t fight the smile that appears on your face when you feel his head rest on top of yours. “The head editor has been hounding us all lately to write something spectacular. As much as I love working for the paper, sometimes it makes writing painful.”

He hums in understanding. His fingers trace mindless shapes against your hip, only stopping when you squirm from how ticklish it is. “You went into a job that makes your hobby into work, but that detracts from the relaxing, fun experience it used to be.”

You sigh. “Yeah. And then the stuff I do end up writing for fun, I hoard to myself. I haven’t done that for years, because I like sharing my stuff with other people. Now, it’s like I have to keep that little scrap of joy all to myself.” You close your eyes and turn your head to press your cold nose against his jacket lapel. “I know I should just quit and find something else to do, but even if I want to write a novel or a book of my own, I’d still be turning my hobby into a job.”

“You would be able to work at your own pace.”

“Then who’s to say I’ll ever finish anything to be able to publish it?”

“What would happen if you didn’t publish anything?” he counters. “Aside from posting on the internet.”

You pause for a minute. If you did quit, start writing for yourself and decide to write a novel, what would happen if it never got published? There wouldn’t be an editor or boss looking over your shoulder, hounding you about deadlines or appealing to a larger audience. And there wouldn’t be people expecting a novel from you unless you bring it up yourself. You could work on a secret project for years with Zayne as your only witness and there would be no worrying about other people getting hype and losing interest when you take longer than expected. Sure, you wouldn’t get paid, but money wasn’t a concern with Zayne’s career, and you could always do a little freelance if you felt like it, or find another job that doesn’t involve writing, so you can keep it as a hobby all to yourself again.

You sigh, as though a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders, and lean a bit heavier into his side. He welcomes it easily, adjusting his arm to wrap around your back so he can rub your arm. “I’ll put in my two weeks notice tomorrow,” you tell him. “Which means I still have to figure out what to write about for this assignment.”

“You’ll think of something,” he assures. “You can always write about that girl and her stolen dog.”

You chuckle. “Her parents will post up flyers about a missing dog, and an employee at the pound will see it. It’ll be a huge scandal. And just when she thinks she’ll have to give up the dog - which they’ve named Sir Butterton the Third - her parents will finally relent and adopt it.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, and he smiles down at you with those ever-calming hazel eyes of his. “See? You’ve already got a plot synopsis. The rest will come naturally.” He squeezes your hand, which has grown cold after spending so long in the cool breeze and autumn weather. “Now, we should get you home before you catch a cold.”

“You’re out here, too! You could catch a cold just as easily.”

“All the more reason to hurry back.” He stands first and helps you from the old bench. You’re not sure he even consciously thinks about it before doing up your jacket to keep the cold air from getting in. You don’t mind. It gives you a chance to admire the man you’ve chosen as your life partner. He gives you a questioning look. “What’s on your mind now?”

You smile and reach up to playfully adjust his scarf. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering who I should base the dad on in my story.”

His ears turn pink, but he shakes his head, taking your hand from his scarf and leading you back toward the car. “If that’s the case, I would recommend a different name for the dog in your story.”

“Oh? What should it be, then?”

“Aprotinin.”

“I’m not naming the dog after a drug!”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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figurantedefilme · 9 hours ago

Text

marry me — sam winchester.

pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

summary: you woke up and decided that you should marry sam as soon as you could.

cw: just fluff, very cliché, no use of s/n, established relationship, brief mention of canon-typical violence, thoughts about marriage, hugs, kisses, use of nicknames by sam and reader (honey, darling, baby, my love), small appearance by dean, poorly edited.

a/n: okay, this was VERY short, i'm still learning how to write this kind of stuff, i'm not very creative, but i needed to write this to take a weight off my shoulders, i loved so much this shit with sammy ;(( sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!! enjoy ;)

(ps: im reposting this because i moved blogs!!)

— send me an request!! <3

It was a day like any other after a long hunt. You woke up, Sam was sleeping peacefully next to you in the shared room. You looked at the time on the clock; it was 7am.

Sam was half hugging you, one of his big arms under your back, another hand on your waist, one of his legs folded between yours, the sunlight coming through the gaps in the curtain, illuminating his face in such an incredible way, and you could see a small smile on his face, he really was at peace. You loved it when he slept so well like that, no nightmares, no worries transmitted on his face, just the peace of a good night's sleep.

You thought a lot about it, about how much you wanted to wake up every day with Sam by your side, like, have a life with him, maybe even retire from hunting, get married, a house further away from the city, or even live in the bunker, it didn't matter, you just wanted to be with him until the end of your lives, be his forever, and have him for yourself too.

Sam started to wake up, a big smile on his face when he saw you there beside him. "Good morning, honey." he said in that sleepy voice. "Marry me." You said simply, admiring your boyfriend's beauty, having barely woken up.

"What did you say, darling?" He turned to the side, propping himself up on his elbow to look into your eyes. "I said marry me, my love." You smiled what was probably the biggest smile of your entire life, then leaned in and kissed Sam on the nose.

"Wait," he sat down on the bed, and you followed his action, sitting in front of him. "What's wrong?" You saw how the expression on his face changed, something like surprise, with a hint of confusion. "Are you serious, baby?" He said, taking your hands and looking deep into your soul, he really wanted to know that.

"I've never said anything so serious in my life, Samuel," you replied, clasping your hands around his.

"Oh, of course I want to marry you, in fact, just wait here." He let go of her hands and turned to get out of bed, and went towards the dresser in the room, opened one of the drawers, and from the bottom, took out a red velvet box. "I've been planning this for a while, I wanted to wait until we had a day off and I could take you out to dinner and do it in a more romantic way."

He knelt in front of the bed, opened the little box, and reached out to take yours, you sat on the edge of the bed, almost crying and held his hand. "Do you want to marry me too?" He smiled big, and you simply started to cry. "Oh my god, yes yes, please, yes."

"I should be the one asking you please, you are the most important person in my life, and I would do anything to protect you from all this shit we keep fighting, just to have you for myself forever, my love." He took off the ring and put it on your finger, kissing your hand. He stood up and hugged you, wiping your tears.

"Oh, I love you so much." You said, and began to shower his face with kisses.

"What's that noise here? Who's crying?" Dean appeared at the door, wearing his robe with a cup of coffee in one hand.

"I did it, Dean." Sam said looking at his brother, he held his wrist and pointed his hand so Dean could see the ring.

"Uh, finally, Sammy, I'm so happy for you." He said with a smile that quickly faded. "But can you stop making so much noise? It's only 7am, thanks." Then he turned and closed the door.

"Typical Dean," you said, laughing.

#sam winchester supernatural #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader fluff #sam winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural fic #supernatural x you #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x platonic!reader #supernatural drabble #sage write!!

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nectardaddy · 11 hours ago

Text

songs in the gravel . . . a. miya + f!reader

⋆｡ bitter winds | wc: 769

warnings . . . angst, failed past relationship, talk of aging and the feelings associated with it, feelings of being left out/left behind, regret, loneliness

The man sighed as he leaned against the kitchen counter, the marble edge leaving a small indentation on his arm from just how long he’d been standing there. He didn’t mean to get carried away with doom scrolling through social media, his other hand on his cheek. Didn’t mean to roll his eyes as another one of his brother’s wedding photos passed his feed, and surely didn’t mean to linger on a photo that made his heart ache. A simple photo, really, a few friends gathered in a bar and nothing more. But it was her. It was always her. He felt his stomach drop as soon as the picture popped up minutes earlier, and felt a pang that rattled his insides all the way to the bone.

He couldn’t help but stare, to hover over the picture for far too long. He hadn’t spoken to her in years, frankly forgot about her until the moment hit him with force and nearly brought him to his knees. She was a bit older, as was he, and despite the wide grin she held in the image he could pick out the small lines near her lips that weren’t there before. Maybe she stayed in the sun while in his absence, maybe it was stress, or the daunting fact that both were getting older. He often tried to repress the thought of aging, but the few, tiny gray hairs that peaked through faux blonde made it hard to forget. It was even harder knowing that everyone around him seemed to progress while he did not.

The off season brought him home, but home was empty. No longer living with his parents, but a rather nice apartment that he used to share with his brother. But his brother had gotten married a few months ago, and left the apartment cold and empty. No more laughter, no more teasing, and no more seeing Osamu’s stupid face in the morning. At first, he was overjoyed with the concept of living alone. But then the loneliness crept in. Settled in shallow veins late at night when he tried to go to sleep, and remained throughout the day as every corner he turned held no one.

He felt like he was getting left behind. Hometown friends coming and going, moved entirely, or had other things to do than drink in a barren apartment. Kita had gotten married, started a family, and now lived on a farm. Suna would rather stay in Shizuoka than the “hick ass city” (as he put it) of Hyōgo, so he was rarely ever in town anymore. Aran, while home more often, was often hard to reach. And his teammates, understandably, made plans to see their own families during the off season - leaving him, undeniably alone.

Excruciatingly alone.

The isolation was gentle at first, slowly creeping upon him like a pot starting to boil. But as he still looked at the picture in front of him, the bubbles began to roll until finally spilling over. She was happy, she was laughing, she had friends - she didn’t remember him anymore. The nauseating feeling of being left out hit him in his chest and he felt the sudden urge to heave, to spill his guts right then and there.

Osamu always called the woman “the one who got away” in regards to Atsumu. In reality, the man let it happen. Too preoccupied in his career, and with little to no balance within his life, he let the relationship fall through his fingers like sand. It wasn’t until nearly a year after, he realized the hollow ache in his chest without her in his life. An emptiness that ate away at him, nipping and biting until there was nothing left - a shell of the man he once was. But as years passed, he started to repress the wretched feelings. Bottled them up and crammed them down within the chasms of his mind, never to be felt again.

Until now.

The man put his phone face down on the counter roughly; the sharp snap of the case hitting cold marble made his ears ring in contrast to the quiet apartment. He put his hands to his face and covered his eyes with a loud sigh, shaky as it took up a sense of desperation. The sinking feeling of regret trickled into his mind as he stood there, elbows still against the cool marble and calloused hands over his face, until it completely devoured him. Swallowed him whole, with not a single piece left, and he once again felt alone.

Completely, and utterly, alone.

“Fuck.”

taglist (open, send an ask)

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @aozui

@jadeoru @hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @sandwhitches

#I'm sorry ellie <333 #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq angst #haikyuu angst #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #atsumu x reader angst #series : songs in the gravel

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fanfictiongirlie · 2 days ago

Text

Twilight: Some Soulmate - Chapter Eleven

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x Reader

Description: Y/N a member of the Cullen family is imprinted on by one of the wolves, she is shocked, he is shocked. She is struggling with drinking animal blood over human, and he is disgusted by a vampire for a soulmate… But maybe it could work..?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1,024

"I love you so much" Paul whispered as he lips kissed along my jawline, his hands were running up and down my sides and back as I laid underneath him. His kisses were aggressive, animalistic, he growled before he moved back to my lips, kissing me hard. It was amazing, we were practically the same strength, so our lips bashing against one anothers didn't hurt. I could feel his love towards me, and currently his lust.

Pauls hand started to move down to my hip and underneath my top, it sent alarm bells off in my head. I suddenly pushed him off me, and jumped back to lean against the bedpost.

"I'm sorry" I stutter. He was watching me, mostly confused, and flustered.

"It's ok love" He said, he moved up next to me, and wrapped a arm around my shoulders.

"Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable" He added.

"It's not that, I've just never been with someone like this before" I admit, I'm sure if my cheeks could, they would be extremely red right now.

"I thought you would have, you've been alive for so long" Paul says, awkwardly chuckling.

"The only relationship, per say that I've been in, was the one my parents set up for me" I explain "That was quite early days, I died a few weeks before our wedding"

I thought about the memory for a little bit, it had been a while since I thought about that.

"Did you love him?" Paul asked quietly.

"I barely knew him, I can't even remember his name" I say, unsure.. I lent up to kiss Paul's cheek, and smiled to myself.

"Despite being 155 now, I think, you are my first love" I admit, I felt his warm arm cuddle me closer.

"You're so sweet, you are my first love too" He admits "Everyone thinks I've been with tons of women, that I'm a ladies man, but I've kissed one other girl, besides you love"

I turn to him and smile.

"Thank you for telling me that Paul" I say, leaning forward to kiss him, I went to kiss him further, putting my hands on his shoulders and sitting on his lap, but my phone ringing interrupted me.

"Y/N, we need you to come home now" Carlisle spoke through the phone.

"Why wants wrong?" I answered.

"We'll explain when you get here, alone" He added and ended the call.

I frowned and looked and Paul had heard the conversation of course, he was pouting too. I reached over and kissed his lips.

"I'm sorry, I'll be over next time I can" I explain, he nods, kissing my lips again.

"Tomorrow?" He then asks as I jump off the bed.

I grin and nod.

"Sure, I love you" I say

"I love you too my love" He responds, and I leave his house.

I speed home, worry overcoming me, what could be so wrong that I was needed home so urgently.

I reached the house and Esme was outside waiting for me, I ran into a hug and then I pulled back, seeing the look on her face, it was sad, and scared.

"Esme what's wrong?" I ask.

"Bella and Edward are home" She replies and takes my hand, we start to walk into the house. I could hear my families voices, as well as Bella. I walked into the living room, and froze when I saw Bella, she was not a vampire, she was sickly. Her face was hollow, and she looked thin.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Bella's pregnant" Rosalie says.

"How?" I ask, that's impossible.

I sit down, and Bella explains to me, with too much detail, there were things I didn't need to know about my brother. I was still shocked, vampire's couldn't have children, I'd be lying if maybe a tiny spark of heop didn't flare up inside of me. I came back to reality though, maybe if I were the wolf, and Paul the vampire it would maybe be a possibility. But it wasn't.

I saw Edward give me a sympathetic look, I hated that he read my thoughts, I hated that he could hear my vulnerability.

"Wait.." Edward suddenly spoke. "The wolf pack, they want to kill the baby, Jacob is outside, he has decided to protect us"

I stood up, wanting to go see Paul.

"Y/N, you can't !" Edward grabbed my arm to stop me, but I threw him back, I was stronger than him.

"Y/N, the wolf pack are against us now, Paul will have to follow Sam's orders" Carlisle explains, I feel Esme's hand on mine, stroking it gently.

"Y/N, Paul wanted to kill it too" I looked up to see Jacob in the doorway, I hissed and moved away from them all. They tried to grab me but I ran out of the house and into the woods, I heard the wolves howling and I ran towards it.

"You're on our land leech!" I heard, Sam and the other wolves, including Paul were by his side.

"Paul" I whispered, reaching out, I was too scared to step forward.

"Paul please" I whispered again, I could feel his love towards me, but his face mimicked the other men, looking at me disgusted.

"Let's go Paul!" Sam yelled turning away, the others following him, but not Paul. He stepped towards me, taking me in his arms.

"Y/N, I'll never stop loving you, but I've got to follow my pack" He then kisses my lips, holding onto my face. And then Paul runs off, to follow his pack, I stumble backwards, shocked. Did we just break up? If the wolves were ready to kill my family, he would help..

I ran home, confused and hurt. I loved him so much, but he would fight against my family, and before anything I would pick my family. But my heart ached so. I felt as if I kept finding happiness and losing it soon after. I couldn't fight against Paul, I knew the wolves couldn't harm an imprint, but would that change because I was a vampire? Because our family were now in the wrong?

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#paul lahote x reader #fluff #twilight imagine #angst #twilight fanfiction #twilight x reader

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