#all of my cousins shall know

[marclef]

What’s the relationship like between Peppino and Fake Pep? I wonder what its like to be friends with a literal clone of yourself…

hoo boy, it's a very interesting thing indeed! (and something i'm WAY too enthusiastic about sharing my ideas about hehehe 👀💧) especially when the clone of yourself is completely different from you in morals, tastes, actions, interactions..... just about the only thing that's similar is looks.

that's not to say that Peppino and his Fake don't get along though! it's gotten... better since Fake Peppino first showed up at Peppino's Pizza and then refused to ever leave. at least Fake Peppino has no desire to kill Peppino any more, he's a fellow Peppino and that would just be rude! not to mention how he regrets trying to kill him before... but it's all fine now!!

Fake treats Peppino with a decent amount of respect, part of it just because he considers Peppino a friend now, and part of it being how badly Peppino kicked his ass for things in the past. there's still an awful lot of things Fake Peppino does that makes most normal people uncomfortable... Peppino included. making inhuman noises, hiding in cramped spots just to jump out and spook you, eating things that definitely aren't meant to be eaten... Fake's fairly comfortable in his new home, and while Peppino feels a lot better about him, there's still times that it makes him feel a bit... anxious.

seeing something that once tried to kill you and still acts very off sometimes, acting as if you're a dear friend and snuggling up to you like a beloved family dog, that IS a little bit... uncomfortable, to say the least. but at least things could be worse... Fake could still be trying to kill Peppino like he was made to do.

there ARE a lot of things that Fake Peppino does though, in attempts to actually benefit Peppino. whether or not these are ACTUALLY good things is very debatable. clearing out any pest that make their way in is pretty nice at least, but then there's the more... questionable things that Fake does to try and help. for example, Fake doesn't tolerate any kind of rudeness towards Peppino or his restaurant. he still considers himself a Peppino in a sense, and sees the pizzeria as both Peppino's AND his own, so insulting either of those is the last thing you want to do.

do NOT ever behave in an unruly manner, or say rude things about Peppino in his pizzeria. you never know who might be listening...

... or that it might be the last mistake you ever make. be wary while making your way home after that... there might just be something that's tagged alongside you.

.... it IS a little worrying to Peppino that most rude customers never seem to show up again... but maybe they just stuck to their word and left? surely that's the explanation for it... Fake Peppino does look rather well-fed today though... but ah well... at least that's less angry customers to deal with?

but see, Fake Peppino DOES genuinely care for Peppino's well-being now! and Peppino, though still fairly wary, is at least thankful that he's not a threat to him. so while it's not exactly the most comfortable life, at least Fake doesn't cause Peppino any trouble... not that he knows much about.

but it WOULD help him feel a bit better, if Fake Peppino's instincts would stop acting up from time to time. there's only so many times that Fake's "kill and/or eat Peppino" brain instincts can kick in before it starts getting real uncomfortable. but at least he's not ACTUALLY trying to kill Peppino... it just tends to be that from time to time, Peppino might find himself getting licked or gently nibbled on. a wee bit unsettling when it's meant to be a clone of yourself doing that.... at least he's not really eating you??

so... uncomfortable at times, but could be worse! Fake Peppino can be fairly handy to have on hand too, a nice helper for cleaning and keeping watch! just.... don't worry about where some of the ruder customers have been going... i'm sure they're just fine.

[twinstxrs]

i don’t NEED art of gorgug’s bio parents however i do desperately want evidence to back up my claim that gorgug’s bio mom is hot

[power-chords]

“I don’t mind a little turmoil, I have to tell you. I didn’t then, and I don’t now.”

That, in two short sentences, tells you pretty much everything you need to know about Richard Buxbaum, lawyer and activist.

At 88 93, Buxbaum is among the oldest professors still teaching at UC Berkeley, a place where turmoil has made some inroads over the years.

Do you remember the Free Speech Movement? Buxbaum does. He defended 773 activists arrested during the FSM between 1964 and 1965. Do you remember the Vietnam War? Buxbaum does. He schooled dozens of young Berkeleyans anxious to avoid conscription in how to claim conscientious objector status. Do you remember the Third World Liberation Front strike in 1969? Buxbaum does. He spent weeks helping to bail many arrestees out of jail and was lead co-counsel for 150 of them.

And, frankly, that doesn’t begin to encompass the turmoil Buxbaum, the Jackson H. Ralston Professor of International Law at Berkeley Law, has seen. He was born in Germany, and remembers the horrors of November 9 and 10, 1938, that accompanied Kristallnacht, when Nazis there went on a rampage, torching synagogues and vandalizing homes, business and schools of persons suspected of being Jews. At least 91 died.

Not long after that, the Buxbaum family packed up and headed for the United States. They would wind up in upstate New York, where his father, a doctor, worked on the St. Regis Mohawk Reservation. Buxbaum would go on to nearby Cornell University to get a law degree and then to Berkeley, where he earned an advanced law degree.

From there, at the very end of the Korean War, he was drafted into the U.S. Army where, once again, turmoil found him. As a native speaker of German, he was detached as a junior counsel to Heidelberg, where not much was happening — just the finalization of the treaty that ended the 10-year occupation of Germany by the allied nations of World War II. Buxbaum was on hand as his native country earned equal status among western nations.

“All I had to do,” he says, “was to make sure both sides understood what their treaty obligations were.”

Piece of cake.

Buxbaum came to Berkeley in 1961 to teach law. Over the next half-century, he would do that and more. He would live through history.

“Berkeley invited me back, and I got involved,” Buxbaum says. “I was teaching, but with the Free Speech Movement, Vietnam and the Third World Liberation Front, I wasn’t doing the kind of research I thought I’d be doing. But as an old lefty, I had a fair amount of sympathy for what the students were trying to do.”

[bookwyrminspiration]

“i have a theory that elves are actually super duper itty bitty and blue pathfinders turn them human size but like that’s why they can travel at the speed of light and why humans can’t find them” -my sister

Comes home to my hardworking elf family and puts a single blueberry on the table for dinner and it collapses under the weight because the blueberry is bigger than all of us combined (I carried it with my super tiny elf mind) and we'll feast for weeks

That aside, what is "super duper itty bitty" in numeric values? Are we talking small like, kitten sized? Like rat sized? Like snail sized? Like ant? Like tardigrade? (the irony of me requesting numeric values and then listing nothing numerical is not lost on me).

Because currently I'm imagining them like a colony of ants that you can just step on. Their entire existence relies on something not stepping on them.

I will say, this does actually account for a few otherwise inexplicable occurrences--aside from the traveling at the speed of light and undiscovered by humans. For example, the over abundance I mentioned in an earlier post. Living mostly off fruit and such, anything normal sized will feed several people. That's why they're not at risk of starving. And the reason they can be so lavish with crystals is because proportionally, they need very little crystal to decorate themselves the way humans do. An entire house would be several fortunes over for a human, but there's enough resources to build a small elf house without draining the planet in the same way. It also explains why their economic system sucks so bad; their brains are too small to realize their own stupidity.

There are more kinks to be worked out (how does the blue crystal make them big, for example), but I think your sister is onto something. Not quite sure what, but her mind intrigues me.

[aeide-thea]

not totally sure what reminded me of this, but—if i had a nickel for every witcher fic describable as 'geralt and jaskier get plunged via magic into a mysterious hall without apparent entrance or exit, where every door opens onto some scenario from their own lives, either remembered or imagined, and by the end of the story they're holding hands…' admittedly i'd still only have ten cents, but it's kind of wild to me that there's more than one!

Opening Doors by chamomiletea

A short fic in which I again engineer a fanciful and unlikely way for a magical mishap to bring Jaskier and Geralt together. Trapped in an underground chamber with four mysterious doors, the two both discover and reveal more than they had intended.

nothing is lost that is born of the heart by inexplicifics

Little fool, the mage had said. If you care for your pet witcher so much, go and find him. And then Jaskier was here, with his pack and his lute and - thank Melitele - a torch, and no idea where Geralt might be, or what sort of condition he’ll be in when Jaskier finds him, or what sort of dangers might be lurking between here and there. And no idea where here is to begin with.

[novelmonger]

For character bingo: I’m not sure how far along you are in Eight Cousins, but thoughts on Charlie?

I'm pretty close to the end, so I should be able to do this. But oh, I feel like he's one of the cousins I have less distinct of a grasp on for some reason :[ But I'll do my best!

[star-crossed-lizards]

something about me if you get me in the car late at night i’ll admit literally anything

[entitled-fangirl]

A second wife and a poet.

Cregan Stark x second wife! Blackwood!reader

Summary: The North pressured Cregan to marry again. He hates the thought of it, but at least the reader is someone he's comfortable with.

Warnings: mentions of death, fighting, battles, arguing, cursing, smut (p in v), and all that other stuff

A/n: Based on an ask sort of! This thing is so long I'm so sorry😭

Masterlist

..........................................

Cregan did not wish to marry again. The thought terrified him.

But he understood that his wishes were not taken into account when he was born with the Stark name.

Now, he nervously stood outside of the Winterfell walls, awaiting the young woman that would become his second wife. 

Lord Samwell Blackwood's only daughter. 

Cregan was not a religious man, but he prayed that this marriage would be better.

It would help further the alliance. That's what he told himself. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat as her carriage came to a halt. 

She stepped out.

She was different than what Cregan had remembered.

The Blackwood hair was obvious, the dark curly locks running down her shoulders effortlessly. He'd seen that same shade atop of Benjicot's head. 

But the manner in which she carried herself was different. Very… un-Blackwood like.

She was nervous.

He'd never seen any of the Blackwoods ever hold an inkling of doubt to them. It was a strange sight.

Not that he could blame her.

She curtsied out of politeness, keeping her head down.

He shook his head, "Y/n."

Her head shot up to look at him. To really look at him.

She remembered him visiting Raventree Hall in their youth. Cregan had found a friendship in her brother, Benjicot, as did their fathers.

This had prompted lots of visits in the past.

Until Rickon Stark died and Cregan took the mantle his father left behind. He was only thirteen.

Now in his twenties, the permanent exhaustion shown in his eyes. The years had been hard to him.

He was nothing like the young boy that had once sparred with her brother.

"Cregan," she greeted back.

Their eyes met.

It was awkward. What do you say to someone you know and yet, don't know at all? Especially when both sides had endured such grief.

"Did-"

"I heard-"

They both stopped, not intending to interrupt one another. 

"Please," Cregan gestured.

"No, I insist that you do."

An unsure breath escaped him. "Did Benji not accompany you?"

It was strange to hear the formidable Lord of Winterfell still refer to her brother as "Benji" as if they were kids again.

"No," she swallowed. "He had… more pressing matters to attend to. I hope you understand."

"Of course," he offered. "I was saddened, you know. To hear of the loss of your father."

The Battle at the Burning Mill had left her father, Samwell, and her cousin, Davos, dead in the dirt alongside many other men who fought by their side. It was a victory, but with victory came loss.

"As I, with your wife, I mean."

He nodded. "Thank you."

Silence swallowed them whole, both at a loss of what else they could possibly say to ease the other.

He took the time to study her, making a note of the way she tapped the tips of each finger to her thumb. A nervous tick, he made a note of. Benji did the same when he grew angry.

"Did your journey fair well-"

"-Yes," she quickly answered.

They both cursed inwardly.

"Right. Perhaps I should show you… Indoors?" He asked awkwardly.

She nodded. "Yes, yes of course."

…

She sat at the desk, laying her head down onto the wooden surface. 

Judging by the way Cregan had only lingered in the doorway before, she had guessed that he hadn't entered the room since the passing of his wife.

Everything in it had remained the same. 

It felt wrong. Like an invasion of privacy to open her own closet and see another woman's dresses in it.

"Shall I get these out for you, my lady?" Her handmaiden tried to ease.

"Leave them," she muttered. "I'll get them out when I'm ready."

"And when will that be?"

She sighed in defeat. "I dunno."

…

What a lousy first impression.

Cregan felt like punching a wall.

What an idiot.

Perhaps he was destined to always have a wife estranged to him. For that's how this one had begun.

It should've been easy. It was Benji's sister, for fuck's sake.

He tried to rack his mind of memories of his time in Raventree Hall. He was a much younger soul then and the memories of it had faded significantly with time.

But he did remember her faintly.

She was always around, but she never bothered them. Never spoke up. She always was somewhere near with a book or a thread and needle. 

He just remembered the essence of her, but that was enough.

And the thought that war had broken the siblings up put an ache in Cregan's heart. He knew she'd be safe with him, but still. Benjicot couldn't even leave his duties long enough for a wedding ceremony. And she had just… accepted that.

This was his second chance. 

He had to do better.

…

At dinner, he tried to ease the tension. 

He cleared his throat, "You can write to your brother. If you wish, that is."

She set her spoon down gently and folded her hands into her lap. "That's kind. It would ease his mind to know I made my journey safely."

He grunted and took another sip of his broth. He tried to think of anything else. 

But she spoke up again, "I was waiting to ask but… perhaps I should just ask."

He tilted his head down, "Yes?"

"Your son… he lived, didn't he?"

He could tell she shook a little as she asked. "He did. He eats in his room."

"Oh." 

"Did you… Did you want to meet him?"

She pauses and a genuine smile breaks out on her face. "I'd be hard to be Lady Stark if I didn't."

He hangs his head in mock shame and he chuckles. "Right. That was foolish of me to ask."

"No, I understand." She shifted in her seat. "You're hesitant to replace his mother. You don't have to explain that to me."

"It's not that," he countered. "Well, not exactly. It's confusing."

"Alright?"

"My…" he paused. "Arra was one of my greatest friends in this world. But she was no wife. Our friendship grew to duty, and the love we shared for other another faded quickly. We seemed to argue more than we got along towards the end. It was… disheartening."

"I see."

He looked up at her and pushed himself to continue. "I fear you and I are not an even match."

A sudden jolt was felt in the pit of her stomach. "What?"

His eyes widened as he realized his choice of words, "No. No. I just meant… gods." He rubbed his forehead. "I have… experienced all the wonders of a man and wife already and you have not." Cregan looked around in thought. "Just seems unfair to you. In many ways."

She considered his words. He was right, she couldn't deny that. "Do you believe my brother had any doubt in this betrothal?"

Cregan's brows came together in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Everyone thought him so eager to sign me away, but that's anything but the truth. He knows you, Cregan. If it were any other man wishing for my hand, he would have denied it. Not you."

That brought an unusual warmth to his chest. "Why?"

The ends of her lips quirked up into a smile. "He said he'd never seen an equal opponent such as you. And only an equal opponent would be worthy of something so precious to him."

"Do you agree with him?" Cregan's voice whispered.

"I'm starting to."

The silence that had once been full of tension began to ease into one of comfort. 

"All in your family are true warriors as well, my lady. Only a fool would deny that. Especially your father and… and your cousin, you said?"

She nodded, "Yes, yes, my cousin, Davos. Hard to think that we've considered the battle a victory with such a devastating loss."

He hummed, his interest shifting when speaking of something he may have insight on: war. "The Brackens lost family alike."

She scoffed. "All for a few more feet of territory? For stones?"

"Careful," he warned. "They didn't fight for stones. You're smarter than that. What did they fight for? Truly?"

She thought about it carefully before giving in to what answer she knew he was looking for. "Power."

"Exactly. Your father died for the chance of future Blackwoods gaining greater power. That's much nobler a death than stones, don't you think?"

"He died for Benjicot, then?"

"And you," he offered.

That struck a nerve in her. "Then why do I sit safely behind the walls of Winterfell when I should be fighting by my brother's side for future Blackwoods?"

There it was.

He knew she'd have Blackwood fire in there somewhere.

He only had to light it.

"Do you want to wage wars, sweet girl?"

"No," she countered. "But if it must be done."

"Spoken like a true noble," he chuckled. "It's not nearly the same, I know, but the Stark forces may appreciate your support. If you'll bless us with it."

She looked confused. 

"Please tell me you wish to become a Stark. I cannot bare to think I'm forcing you into a marriage you'll be unhappy in. I've done it before and I won't do it again."

She felt a twist in her stomach at the tough man's voice faltering. She breathed in sharply, "I… I think I do."

Cregan couldn't accept that. "Please," he urged her to continue.

"I… I've been caught on the idea of younger you." She tilted her head to the side in thought as she stared at her bowl. "I'd happily marry my brother's best friend. But… the Lord of Winterfell? I dunno."

"He is one and the same," he protested.

"Is he?"

Cregan had never been rendered speechless in his life, yet there was a first for everything.

She let the silence set before speaking up, "Cregan was a boy with the very essence of life in him. I always thought he'd become a brave knight. He had a fire to him that you so rarely see. But Lord Stark? He has duty written into his very skin. The fire seems to have been tamed by sacrifice. He doesn't want a second wife. Nor do I blame him."

"I never said that!"

"You and I both know if Arra had birthed you one more heir, you wouldn't marry again at all."

"Stop." He commanded.

She faltered, pausing her words at his tone.

"It is true that I marry out of pure encouragement from my council. But that does not mean the end of our friendship. Please don't let it be."

"Cregan, you and I were never friends. You marry me with the memories of friendship you have with my brother. You know I am not him."

"I do!" He yelled. He softened. "I do. You're not like him at all."

That weighed on the two of them like bricks. 

She stared down at her bowl again. "I wish you'd have known my cousin, Davos, closely. My father used to say that the gods placed twins in separate wombs to keep us from ending the world." She laughed lightly, "He and I were inseparable."

"I heard Lord Davos only loved sparring and getting into trouble."

"Do you believe he only managed trouble on his own?" She questioned. "He was fiery on his own, yes, but I only encouraged it. I should have been there. At the border. I could've… I could've kept the battle from starting."

Cregan scoffed lightly, "There was no way to keep an inevitable battle from beginning."

"But I might have prolonged it all further," she tried. "Kept the tension just a while longer."

"Until what? Until it is your brother losing his head? Or worse, you?"

"Yes."

She wasn't that nervous girl from before. No. She was indeed a Blackwood. There was no question about that.

He sighed and clenched his fist. "We wed tomorrow. I'd rather my betrothed sleep well tonight with hopeful wishes rather than regrets and guilt."

She stood. "Maybe you're marrying the wrong woman then."

He watched her walk out, completely stunned.

It reminded him too much of Arra.

…

The tension hadn't relieved itself if the glare in Cregan's eyes were any indicator.

It was a steady glare. More one that seemed to study her, trying to figure out what makes her tick. 

Seems she was the very thing that made him tick.

She had glared back at the beginning of the ceremony, insistent on giving back every look that was sent her way, but slowly, that had changed to something else.

Her nerves returned.

He didn't notice at first, but he saw the way her hand shook so violently she almost didn't get the cup to her lips without spilling the liquid inside.

He was wracked with guilt.

He had once again forced a woman to "love" him.

"I've called off the bedding ceremony," he spoke lowly. "If that's any help."

"It's not."

He was shocked by the way she had so easily pushed away his attempt to ease her. Like she'd kicked the last leg Cregan was standing on. 

"Get up."

"What?"

"Get up. We're going."

She stared in shock. "Cregan, forgive me. I was-"

"C'mon. I'm firm on this."

When she didn't move, he grabbed her by her bicep, yanking her up and beginning to pull her through the dining hall. Both ignored the cheers and chants of what the people believed would happen in the couple's private chambers.

Once dragged to his room, she pulled her arms from his vice grip and smoothed out her dress. "Is that what you wanted? A newly wedded wife in tears? Because you're awfully close to it, Lord Stark."

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "I'm not sleeping with you tonight. I refuse."

"What?"

"I'm not sleeping with you tonight. I refuse." He repeated with more force. He ran a hand through his hair. 

She shrugged off his cloak that he had placed on her during the ceremony and threw it aside. "You won't even let me perform my duties because you don't want to fulfill yours?"

"Y/n," he warned. "That's not how I meant it."

"I can't read you. Do you hate me? Do you love me? Gods, you're insufferable."

"-and you're blind."

"Oh! Enlighten me, then, oh great Lord Stark."

"I loved you. I still do."

She spun around to face him.

Cregan stood firmly. His eyes spoke more than his words did. He was insistent on having her trust him. 

"I don't believe that," she scoffed.

"Oh really?" He walked to his bureau and pulled out a small wooden box. He threw it onto the bed. "Have a look for yourself."

She looked him up and down before hesitantly walking over to the box. Sitting next to it, she pulled it open and examined the contents. 

Letters.

"What is this?"

"Every letter I tried to write to you the day I became the Lord of Winterfell. I had… foolish dreams of maybe having you as a wife. I was only a boy then."

She sat straight. "Why keep them?"

He shrugged. "I'm sentimental, I suppose. I had tried to burn them- many times, in all honestly. Couldn't bring myself to do it."

"May I?"

He nodded, anxiety filling his gut. 

Her nimble fingers picked up the letter that sat on top.

"There's a few others in there," he informed her as he sat on the other side of the bed. "All regarding you, of course. Letters to your brother, your father, you know."

She unraveled the latter despite shaky fingers. 

My loyalist friend Benjicot, I heard of the passing of your father. You have my deepest condolences. I understand all too well the feelings of honor and duty that have now been placed on your shoulders despite the grief that already weighs them down.  Regarding your sister, perhaps she may find a home in Wint

The letter stopped there, and she looked up at him.

"Some are… more recent, actually."

She nodded. "I see that."

He leaned to her, reading the letter with a light blush. "I'm not very well-spoken in writing, so I make lots of drafts."

"And they're all here?"

"Yes. Yes, all of them." He tapped the side of the box with his large hand. "Well, most of them."

She decided not to press the matter, placing the letter back and picking up an older one from deeper in the box.

This one had much sloppier handwriting, the page evidently aged.

Lady Blackwood, As the Leader of the North, I want you and Benji to visit as often as possible. I might be a lord, but I will always have time for the Blackwoods. Perhaps I can even teach you archery like you have so desperately wanted. Everyone knows I'm better at it than Benji is. Cregan

"Why did you never send them?"

He scoffed. "Read that again and tell me that was ever appropriate to send as the Warden of the North."

"You were a child then, as was I. It's in good favor."

"It's unbecoming of a cold northern lord, though." He reached out to take the letter from her but she held it out of his reach.

"Only yesterday, you told me this boy and the man in front of me were one and the same."

"And they are," he urged.

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"It's not!"

"Prove it."

He stared with an unreadable expression. 

She was insufferable, stubborn, witty, gracious, giving, honest…

He crashed his lips onto hers.

She let out a small yelp in surprise, but just as quickly melted into him, kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm.

"This," she panted again his lips. "This is a bad idea."

He kissed her again, then pulled away just enough to speak, pressing his forehead to hers. "What is?" 

"Loving each other."

He grinned. "I don't care."

She groaned and moved back to him, capturing his lips again. 

He pushed her onto the bed, throwing the wooden box onto the ground with a loud crash before getting on top of her. 

She tried to sit up at the sound, breaking away from him for only a moment, "you could've torn them."

"Why does it matter?"

"I want to save them."

He chuckled, "Lovely woman, you'd rather save scraps of paper from a man's youth than indulge in your desires with the very man that wrote them?"

She ignored the butterflies in her stomach as Cregan's thumb brushed over her cheek. "I never said that."

Cregan tilted his head in teasing disbelief. "Then tell me what you want."

"I want-" she paused. What did she want? Mere moments ago, she wanted to return to Raventree Hall and be rid of the northerner. Now, she wanted to bask in anything that he gave her. "I want Arra's dresses out of my wardrobe."

Cregan blinked, clearly taken out of the moment. He sat up. "What?"

She sat up with him. "You may keep them if you wish, but I'm tired of the reminder of her presence every morning, noon, and night."

"Consider it done," he urged. "I'll have them moved immediately. Any of it you want will be gone within the hour."

"No, I don't-" she sighed. "I don't want her gone, per se. She was a part of you, and therefore a part of us. She's given you a son. To rid Rickon of his mother's memory and you of your first wife should be considered a crime."

"But if I live in the past, I can't enjoy what's in front of me."

"Aye, but you're not doing that," she grinned. "You've got a pretty girl in your bed. Seems like you're enjoying the present."

He didn't grin back, only sighing softly and nodding. "I hope you do forgive me. For forcing this."

"Cregan, you did not force it. Benji gave me a choice." When he gawked at her, she continued. "He encouraged me to accept, yes. But he did not force my hand. I wanted to do this. I wanted to marry you."

"You wanted to please your brother and I or you wanted to be Lady Stark?" He questioned.

"I wanted to be the wife of the man I once knew when he was a boy."

He accepted her answer happily, kissing her once again. This time, it was soft and careful.

She reached her hands up into his hair, tugging delicately at the dark strands. His breath hitched and he brought one of his own hands up as well. His hand gripped over hers. He pulled his hand into a fist, forcing hers as well, and encouraged her to tug harshly on his hair. She took the encouragement, beginning to yank. 

He felt a shiver go down his spine and his mouth opened in a moan. She grinned and took that as an invitation to kiss down his jaw. He tilted his head up to give her room to do so.

"I… I lied," he whispered as his hands roamed over his waist. "I think I do want you tonight."

She nipped at a spot under his neck. "I think I want you too."

He grunted at that and pulled her away from him. "Tell me what you want. Truly."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, "I've had a first wedding night. I want you to have yours the way you want it."

"I… I don't know what I want."

He absentmindedly rubbed at her hip. "Then perhaps we'll try things until you decide."

She nodded. "Th…things? There are multiple things to do?"

He pulled her head back a bit by her hair and kissed her pulse point. "Many."

"But how…"

He couldn't lie and say he hadn't been yearning for some kind of release these last few years. Between Arra's pregnancy, the birth, and the years after her death, Cregan had not laid with another woman. He found himself yearning desperately for touch, of any sort really.

And how lucky was he that hers was so soft. 

He pushed her down on the bed softly. "Trust me?"

"In every lifetime."

Overcome with lust, he pressed his lips to hers again, starting back up the heat in their stomachs that they had played with so eagerly. 

Cregan reached up the tunic on his back, pulling it over his head. He tried to connect their lips again but she kept him from doing so.

She trailed a hand down his shoulder and to his bicep, taking in the sight of his bare torso. Her fingers paused at the feeling of a scar on his arm. Her fingers faltered. 

"It's a rather nasty scar," he whispered.

"My brother gave it to you."

"Aye," His eyes lit up. "He pushed me into a stream and-"

"-and you fell on a rock. I remember my father being so angry with him."

He kissed her yet again, and the two continued as before with a deeper connection than they had thought.

He pulled her skirt up with one hand and caressed the inside of her thigh. 

She jerked at the feeling in uncertainty. "What d-"

"Just tell me how it feels, alright?"

When she nodded, he spoke again, "Sit up for me. We'll get this dress off of you."

…

"Cre… Cregan…"

"I know. You're doing good," he panted into her ear. 

"I… there's… a feeling…"

"I know. I know, it's alright."

He pushed down on her stomach as he thrusted deeper into her, making her moan and tears pull at her eyes. 

"Give in to it. It's okay."

"I can't… I… I'm scared…" she sobbed lightly.

The hand on her stomach moved around her body, arching her back up to him. He held her closely against him in an attempt to comfort her. "I've got you." He placed open mouth kisses on her neck.

She scratched at his back harshly as she reached her peak. A whine left her lips.

"I've got you," he panted as his hips slowed when his peak neared. "I've got you."

She felt overstimulated and exhaustion filled her body. She closed her eyes for just a moment. Just a moment.

…

She woke up to the feeling of sunlight on her skin. Her eyes creaked open.

She groaned at the ache between her legs, a slight shake in the muscles of her legs. 

But what caught her attention was the tray that laid on the other side of the bed. A full breakfast sat where Cregan had supposedly once laid. 

She sat up and picked up the note that lay on the tray. 

My beautiful wife,  I hope you'll take the words of a poorly worded poet to heart, for this is a letter that I finally am sending you. No more drafts hidden in boxes and no secrets to keep. My first draft shall always be my last when addressed to you. I dare say I despise arguments. I'm not as highly tempered as your brother, and I find that I don't run hot. I suppose that it's the chill of the North that has done that. Regardless, may this be our last fight for a long while. I have had Arra's clothing removed from all closets, and the traces of her are now few. Her portrait stays in the library and her remains in the crypts, but the greatest things she left behind were my boy and a gash in my heart. I believe you'll care for both of those things greatly.  But you'll not live in that room. You'll find your dresses in my wardrobe now. I don't believe I can part from you for too long now that I have you. This will be my first and last letter to you, for now you'll hear everything from my lips alone.  But I thought you deserved at least one letter after all these years. Your Cregan

"I told them to fetch me when you woke up," he commented from the doorway.

She gasped at his sudden appearance, "Good morning."

"It's after high noon, I dare say."

"Is it?" She looked at the window. "I'm sorry. It was not my intention to-"

"-Are you alright?" He interrupted.

Her brows furrowed. "I'm fine."

"I've never had a woman succumb to sleep like you did. Felt I did something wrong." He rubbed at his shoulder anxiously.

"No, it felt… it felt good. Quite good," she nodded. She took into account that she was still naked in his bed, but she was rather clean. "Did you…"

He flushed. "Oh. Um.. no. No, I didn't. Don't worry."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's not that I didn't want to," he tried to explain then backtracked. "I mean… you fell asleep and once I knew you were alright, I um… I couldn't do that to you."

"That's," she hummed. "That's noble of you."

He chuckled. "It's the least I could do for you. And the note?" He asked to change the subject.

She held it up and reread it. "Thank you. For… all of it."

He stepped to the side and kissed her head, "Anything for my beautiful wife."

"And you, my poet, Lord Stark."

He gripped her chin and forced her head up to look at him. "Don't let the others know," he teased.

"I dare not. This is something I want all to myself."

"Then you have me- heart, mind, and body."

.......................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867

[raven-dor]

me and my husband

In which gwayne hightower is overprotective of his pregnant wife, and she begins to worry about the outcome of the birth

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader

WARNINGS: angst, anxiety, rough pregnancy, mentions of blood, arguing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

AN: I read "chose me" by @entitled-fangirl and had to write something similar for gwayne!! this could also be read as part of the come back to me universe, but you do not have to read any other fic to understand the context!!

She watched from the dark hall, her heart fluttering as he leaned back, exposing his neck and upper chest. Pregnancy awoke a dangerous animal inside her, one that needed her husband near her at all times. 

Instead, he sat in his office. 

She could not blame him; it was hard work, taking care of Old Town in place of his uncle’s absence. Seeing as his cousin had died recently, Gwayne would stand to inherit the Hightower title, and he all but jumped at the chance to begin his training.

But as of late, it seemed as if she needed him more than he needed her. Mere thoughts seemed to drown out her happiness, every attempt to block them futile. The larger she grew, the closer she got to the inevitable. She cleared her throat, making herself known to her husband. 

“Gwayne?” He looked up, smiling brightly. 

“My love! You should be in bed.” He stood up, ushering her over to a cushion. She glared, letting him coddle her for now.

“I am not inept.” 

“I know, darling.” He knelt in front of her, kissing her hand gently. “But you also know that I cannot help but worry for you.” He caressed her stomach, whispering. “And how is our little one?” 

“You have no need to worry, I assure you. The Maesters say the babe is perfectly healthy; there is no cause for concern.”

“And you?” He kissed her hand once more. “How do you fare?”

She was taken aback by that question, avoiding the question. “Do not worry about me.” 

“That is my job as your husband.” He walked back to his desk, putting out the flickering candle. “And Maesters are not always correct.” 

“That is a rather skeptical view.” She grabbed the handles of the chair, pushing herself up. Gwayne glared. 

“Please ask for my aid next time you plan on standing.” 

“Shall I ask you to help me relieve myself as well?” She glared back. “I love you; you know that I do. But I am not a frail piece of straw. I will not break from a gust of wind.”

“You are carrying the future heir to the Hightower name, my dear.” 

Terms like that make her uneasy. That is all she heard all day. ‘Future heir,’ ‘Hightower name,’ ‘a boy.’ All phrases she had heard over a hundred times. She just wanted a moment of peace where she was not reminded how little she mattered in this situation. A tight smile graced her lips, and she lost all humor in her tone. “As I am constantly reminded.” 

He grabbed her hand, walking slowly out of the office. “All I ask is that you take care. If not for me, then for the sake of our child.” 

“I am careful.” She glared. “You know this. It’s not as if I go looking for things to hurt the babe. Do not treat me like a child to be watched over.” 

He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. “I do not mean to upset you-” 

“Well, you have.” She scoffed. “You have somehow managed to insult my care for your future line and my child in one blow. It is astonishing, truly. I applaud you.” 

“You know that was not my intention.” He shut their bedroom door, removing his shirt. Y/N tried to keep herself from blushing at the sight, but when he looked like that, it was hard to do. He knelt in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. “I am sorry.” 

She hummed, walking away and sitting in front of her vanity. “Yes, well, I suppose I forgive you.” 

He grinned. “I am glad of it.” 

The woods were peaceful, a nice retreat from the bustling of Old Town. Her velvet green dress dragging behind her. She hummed, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the trees swaying. There was a lake nearby that she desperately wanted to swim in, and stare up into the sky of blue. Pushing the tall grass out of her way, the clearing stretched out before her, the lake at the center. She grinned, running down the hill with a newfound joy.

“Y/N? Where are you?” 

Her smile fell, remembering the whole reason she had even been ‘allowed’ to go on this excursion. He’d only let her go if he came along. She sighed, turning around and walking back up the hill. “Coming, my love.” 

The auburn-haired man smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Where did you run off to?” 

“The clearing.” She traced shapes on his chest. “I was thinking, perhaps you could join me for a swim. It is a perfect day for it.” 

“I-” 

“My lord.” Their guard’s voice echoed through the forest. Y/N groaned, falling against her husband’s chest. Gwayne kissed the top of her head, smiling sympathetically. “Another time, I swear to you.” She sighed, nodding. A finger hooked under her chin, his eyes serious. “You look far too melancholy, my love.” 

“Well, perhaps if-” 

“My lord, I’m sorry, but it is most urgent.” 

Gwayne sighed, intertwining his hand with hers. “What is it?”

The Maester’s Wing was dim, with just a few candles keeping light. Gwayne had been summoned to settle a squabble between the townfolk, leaving Y/N to visit the old man herself. She tapped her foot, waiting for the Maester to ask her the questions she dreaded. But those questions never came. 

“My lady.” 

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Maester Jon, it is wonderful to see you.” She held her stomach. “Tell me, any developments my husband or I should be aware of?” 

“Unfortunately, yes, my lady.” He sat down. “It seems, from what we can tell so far, that the birth may result in a breach pregnancy.” Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she felt her breath catch. “A breach pregnancy may result in a choice needing to be made.” He leaned forward, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do you understand what this means, my lady?” 

She nodded, standing up quickly. “I do. Thank you, Maester Jon. I shall relay the news to my lord husband.”

She gave one last look at the dark corner before practically running out of the wing. She burst through the hall doors, dinner in full swing. There sat Gwayne, eyes drooping, visibly exhausted from his duties. 

Who was she to worry him anymore?

Y/N sat beside her husband, kissing his cheek. “How was your day, my love?” 

“Infinitely better, now that you are here.” He smiled. “How was the visit?” 

She took a large sip of her wine. “Well. All is well.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I love you.” 

He grinned, squeezing back. “I love you much more, my dear.” 

If he chose the babe, she knew she would surely die from heartbreak before she bled. She laughed, her eyes watering. “I do not think that is possible.” 

Since learning of the news, she’d been restless, barely sleeping and often waking before the sun. Its bright rays peeked through the curtains, hitting her skin. The warmth soothed her for a moment, but it was just that, a moment. 

The babe kicked harshly, a quiet groan leaving her. She stared at the ceiling, thinking that in just a few short weeks, she’d be giving birth in this very bed, staring at the same ceiling. 

It had always been described to her as horrible and painful beyond recognition. And now that she was carrying an heir, which could possibly be breach, she almost wished she could go back to when they first met and stop herself. When she didn’t have to worry about what she did or where she went, she could just be free. 

He would be pressured into choosing the child over her; she knew this. Sometimes, when the need for an heir was strong, women had been carelessly cut open, being left for dead. It had been done many times, most notably in her lifetime, by King Viserys. Rhaenyra had told her of his actions: how he’d carelessly cut Aemma open, and her mother bled out on the bed without ever getting to hold her babe. 

She looked over at her husband, fast asleep and dead to the world. His hair covered his eyes; his face was shoved into the pillow haphazardly. She giggled; he’d always slept like there was no tomorrow; it was heartwarming, to say the least. She leaned over, pushing the hair out of his face, kissing his forehead gently. 

 Rolling to her side, she quietly stood, careful not to wake him. Grabbing her robe from the wardrobe, she made her way to the dining hall, eager to eat something of actual sustenance. 

After learning of the news, she had picked at her dinner, telling Gwayne it was because the babe made her nauseous. 

In a way, it had. 

The smell of bacon and eggs flooded her senses, and she rounded the corner, the doors of the hall wide open. Greeting the occasional servant that passed by, she sat down, piling food onto her plate. 

“My lord.” Y/N looked up to see her husband stalking toward her, not even acknowledging the man who had greeted him. Odd, he normally slept as long as he could before starting his day. She smiled brightly. “Good morning, my love.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it a good morning?” 

“Quite.” She tilted her head. “Why? Is something amiss?” 

He nodded, crossing his arms. “I awoke, and my wife was gone. Imagine my surprise.” 

She had felt horrible leaving him, and fighting would only give him more cause to choose the babe. “I am sorry if I scared you.” 

“You should be. And another-” He stopped, shock adorning his features. “You are sorry?” 

“I should have woken you. It was my mistake.” She pat the chair next to her. “Please, join me.” 

“I’m afraid I cannot. I have to meet with the steward this morning.” 

Her heart clenched. “I can join you if you’d like-” 

“It is not necessary. I will only bore you.” 

She murmured, reaching out to grab his hand. “You have never bored me.” 

“You are kind, but I’m sorry, I cannot be distracted.” He grabbed a plate, placing a biscuit and two pieces of bacon haphazardly.

She scoffed, glaring at her lord husband. “I did not realize I was such a distraction."

"Y/N...."

"Perhaps I should stay in my chambers for the remainder of my pregnancy. To keep you from further distraction.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” 

She stood, her eyes cold. “I know nothing of the sort.” She looked over his shoulder, beckoning over a servant. “Please move my things into the adjoining room. I will be sleeping there-” 

Gwayne sat his plate down, looking at the servant. “Do not move her things.”  

“My lady?” The young girl looked frightened, scared that she was caught in the middle of their argument. 

Y/N sighed, dismissing the girl. “It is alright.” She walked away, yelling back at her husband. “I shall do it myself.” 

“Y/N!” Gwayne yelled, dropping his plate and running after her. “Come back here at once.” 

She ignored him, walking faster. The stairs proved to be a challenge, holding the railing tight. Gwayne placed a hand on her back. “Let me-” 

She flinched, pushing him back. “Don’t.” 

He mumbled. “You may hate me all you want after this.” 

“After what-” He hooked his arm under her legs, carrying her up the stairs. “Gwayne Hightower! You let me down right now!” 

The top of the stairs was a relief; she practically jumped out of his arms. She walked into their joint chambers, filling her trunk with things she would need. Gwayne sighed, watching from the doorway. “Will you please just-” 

“I will leave you to your devices, my lord. I hope your meetings prove well spent.” Dragging the trunk through the door, she slammed it in his face. 

That had been three days ago. They’d seen each other in the halls and at meals, but other than that, Y/N steered clear of her husband. For the better part of the day, he’d been in a meeting with the patrons of Old Town, or so she’d heard. Y/N took that as an opportunity, rushing out of the castle’s gates. Squealing, she cut through the tall grass once more, racing down the hill towards the lake. She threw her dress off, her petticoat barely revealing her modesty. Not that anyone would see, this part of the wood was only known by the family. 

The water did wonders for her nerves, cooling her skin. Her hair stretched out past her waist, flowing like the tall grass that surrounded this oasis. She floated for what seemed like hours; the babe had not stirred once. She hummed, rubbing her bump gently. “It is quite peaceful here, is it not?” 

A kick. 

Y/N grinned, her eyes tearing up. “Please, try your best to make this an easy birth. It would break my heart not to meet you. If that is the case, don’t worry. Your father’s a good man; he’ll raise you well.” 

No kick. 

She laughed. “Do not ignore your mother. It’s quite disrespectful.” 

A kick. 

“I miss him too, my love.” 

A voice broke through the silence. “Miss who exactly?” 

Y/N jumped, standing in the water. “My lord, I did not expect you-” 

“I was in a meeting when a guard informed me you were running out of the castle gates.” His face looked conflicted, but she didn’t want to address the fact that he most likely heard that whole ‘conversation,’ so she remained silent. “Is there something you wish to tell me?” 

So he had heard. She smiled, trying to act as if nothing was wrong. “I do not know what you are referring to, my lord.” 

“Stop.” Gwayne sighed. “You haven’t called me that since before we were engaged, and I do not wish for you to start again.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Please come out of the lake.” 

She walked past his hand to her dress, every attempt to retrieve it proving futile. “Here.” Gwayne knelt down, picking it up off the stump. “What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?” 

“I would have figured it out, thank you very much.” She glared, pulling the frock over her head. “Do you not have another meeting to attend, my lord?” 

“I canceled them.” He laughed, stepping forward. “After I heard my wife was running away from our home, I thought it best to tend to the matter myself.” 

“How wise of you.” Y/N crossed her arms. 

“Shall we go to bed?” 

“I am not tired.” She walked up the hill, leaving him behind. “Have a restful night, my lord.” 

She slammed her bedroom door shut, leaning against it. She was tired; she hated to admit it. But she wouldn’t have told him that. She walked over to the window, placing the bouquet she picked on the mantle. A reminder of the freedom she once had. A reminder of life before she faced death itself. 

A knock rang out. “May I come in?” 

She tensed. “If you must.” She faced the window, too scared to face him. If she looked at him, truly looked at him, she thought she would start crying. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

“I have to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

She nodded, walking away from the window and placing her robe in her wardrobe. “Ask it then.” 

“Do you still love me?”

Her heart stopped. “I-” 

Gwayne stepped forward, wrapping a singular arm around her waist. He drew her in, his scent engulfing her senses. She fought herself not to fall for his spell, but as he leaned his head down, and his breath hitting her neck, she knew she would not last. “If you do not, speak it plainly because I- I cannot go on like this any longer.” 

She turned around in his arms, placing her arms on his chest. “I do not believe I could ever stop loving you. Trust me when I say this.” She smiled. “I’m afraid it’s terminal.” 

“Ah.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Then what is it that troubles you so?” 

“I do not know what you-” 

“I beg you, do not finish that sentence.” He tilted her chin up, worry in his eyes. “What ales you, my love?” 

“I am simply nervous.” She to be out of his arms. The longer she stayed in his embrace, the more compelled she felt to tell him. “It is nothing, I swear to you.”

He raised his eyebrows, pulling her hands from his chest and kissing them gently. “Please do not lie to me.”

“That night I visited the Maester, he told me something.” He nodded. “He said with the way the pregnancy is progressing, it is possible that the babe will be born breach.” Her voice grew quieter the longer she spoke. 

“That’s not all, is it?” 

She pushed out of his hold, walking to the other side of the room. “I’m so sorry, Gwayne. Truly, I am. Please forgive me-” a sob wrecked her body. “But I want to live. Please.” 

Gwayne shook his head. Where was this coming from? “Whatever are you talking about?” 

“I know I have been acting radical as of late, and I apologize, I just thought-” She hiccuped. “I thought it would make your choice easier.” 

“What choice, darling?” 

She whispered. “Between me and the babe.” 

“Why would I-” It dawned on him. Had she really been dealing with this all by herself? “Oh, my sweet girl. Why did you not tell me?” 

“I didn’t want to stress you any further.” She hugged herself. “Please, Gwayne. I swear I will give you another heir if this pregnancy-” She shivered. “Just don’t cut me. I beg you.” 

He dropped down in front of her, grabbing her hands in his. “Listen to me well. I could sire a hundred children, but you. You are one of a kind, and I will always choose you.” He kissed the back of her hands once more. “Irreplaceable. You must know this.” 

“Gwayne, no one is truly irreplaceable.” 

He stood, his eyes dark. “Do not say such things again. Swear it to me.” 

“I-” 

“Swear it, Y/N.” 

“I swear.” She whispered, cheeks red. “I swear to you.” 

He nodded, smiling lightly. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For coddling you.” He stepped closer, caressing her bump. “I am scared as well. My own mother had many a difficult pregnancy, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” 

“I am sorry as well.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “I should have come to you with my worries. I did not want to burden you. And I will make sure you have your heir. I promise you that.” 

“I do not care if the Hightower name crumbles away into nothingness. As long as you are content, I will be as well.” He leaned down, their foreheads touching. “There would be no point to this without you. I fear I could not do this if you were not by my side.” 

“You have been doing perfectly fine as of late.” She winced. "I truly am sorry.” 

“No more of that.” He whispered, staring at her lips. “May we please go to bed?” 

She nodded, knowing if she tried to speak that words would fail her. She lay on the bed beside him, tracing his freckles. “Sleep, my love.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I will be here when you wake, I promise.” 

[nicksolemnlyswears]

STAY WITH US

this oneshot can be read as a standalone.

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME (PT. 2 HELAENA'S TURN)

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader x helaena targaryen

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of death of a child, mentions of blood, light cursing

a/n: so i lied, so sorry, my apologies, remember how i said i wanted this part to be smut? well it didn't happen. in the end it didn't seem right because these oneshots originated form a place of care and comfort [not horniness like usual]

that being said i am open to doing a series of small oneshots based on their relationship that are more spicy because regardless it lives rent free on my brain and i'd love to share the pervertedness they'd get up to. also i've never written a threesome and that seems like a good writing exercise.

hope you like this oneshot. it's really sweet and when i was thinking of what else to do with them it simply clicked. my only wish is for it to have the same comfort provoking feeling as the other two. while this little series was written as a way for me to feel better about these characters it makes me happy to know it served the same purpose for a lot of you guys. also this was my first time writing for HoTD and you're all so nice ;) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE.

enjoy!

Without Jaehaerys by her side, his twin sister Jaehaera must adjust to being alone. Her lifelong playmate is gone, and now she ought to find her place as an only child.

The silver-haired girl restlessly jumps through different activities, searching for the one that will entertain her long enough without company. It is difficult because each time she successfully gets distracted, she turns to catch her brother's attention, only to find he's no longer there.

Queen Helaena watches her as she stitches together a new embroidery piece for a dress. The Queen spent her days with both her children, but now that one of them is gone, she spends nearly every waking moment with her daughter. Observing. Protecting. Alert.

"The three-headed dragon shall rise once more," Helaena mumbles under her breath. The maids ignore her mumblings. The Queen's words don't make sense half the time.

A squeal of delight from her daughter prompts the needle to pierce Helaena's finger and a bead of blood forms at the pad of it. Looking up, she finds you picking up Jaehaera and kissing her chubby cheeks. The girl is enamored by her cousin and the attention you provide.

"Good morrow, 'Laena," you brightly greet her, setting down Jaehaera and sitting by her on the floor. "Have you broken fast yet?"

Helaena places a hand in yours as a greeting and nods kindly, assuring you she's been eating all her meals. At times, her appetite turns into nausea as glimpses of her dead son invade her senses, but she tries fighting through it.

She closes her eyes and thinks of anything else—primarily you. You who distract her and treat her with such care without judgment of her eccentricities. It's odd how she's caught herself multiple times seeking your approval.

As Helaena returns to her stitching, Jaehaera bounces over and falls into your arms. "I wish for my hair to be like yours."

"Allow me, Princess," Jaehaera's nursemaid intervenes. She does not wish to be seen as lazy and incapable of her job to care for the children.

The small Princess holds tightly onto you, hiding her face on your chest as she settles on your lap. "No, I want my cousin to do it. She's a Princess, and I want Princess's hair."

You giggle at her words and gesture to the nursemaid that it's alright. "Come on, sweet girl, sit," you coo, positioning her in front of you.

One of the maids hands you a hairbrush, and you begin your work. As a Princess, your hair is mostly styled by your maids, but every lady should know how to style it appropriately.

"You're such a pretty girl, Jaehaera. Did you know that?" You talk to distract her from squirming too much. She's an impatient little thing, like her father.

Jaehaera giggles sound throughout the room. She hasn't laughed like that since her brother died. It brings a sad smile to Helaena's lips.

"You're prettier," Jaehaera whispers bashfully, her cheeks a healthy hue of pink.

"Oh, I don't know about that. You're much more beautiful. Do you know why?"

Jaehaera shakes her head, causing you to hold tightly onto the intricate plaits you're weaving in her hair. You inadvertently smile at her benightedness.

"Because you look just like your mummy, and she's very beautiful, and she's a Queen," you gasp lightly, creating a tone of excitement in your voice.

Although she's kept her nose down while stitching, Helaena's cheeks burn just as brightly as her daughters. Your words continue to flatter her. You have a way with words that can make even the most ordinary of townsfolk feel special.

With a small, excited gasp, Jaehaera asks, "Will I be Queen one day?"

"There's always a possibility," you hum, pining the remaining plait into her hair. It is hard to explain the complexities of succession and legacy to a child when there is a current war debating that same subject. "All done, go over to the mirror."

"She adores you," Helaena sighs as she watches her daughter fawn over her new hairstyle.

"And I, her. She's the sweetest girl ever."

Helaena turns to look at you and sees the soft smile gracing your lips. Your eyes then catch hers, and your smile broadens. It makes her wonder what her life would be like if you were not around. How would she have dealt with her emotions?

"I must go, but can you come to my bedchambers tonight? There is a matter I must discuss with you," Helaena says timidly, casting aside her embroidery.

"As you wish, my Queen." You can't fault her for preferring to speak in the depth of the night when the castle sleeps, and there are no wandering eyes to pass judgment.

It gives Helaena whiplash when you effortlessly switch from calling her name to calling her 'my Queen.' She rather enjoys both terms, especially when you call her yours.

Helaena bids you farewell with a kiss on the cheek, blissfully unaware of its effect on you. Such displays of affection are not rare in court, but lately, their significance has changed for you, as Helaena has never been one to indulge in court etiquette when it involves physical touch.

When the sun has disappeared over the horizon, and the castle has quieted down, you make your way to the Queen's bed chambers.

You have always been inclined to stay in the shadows, where it's safe. You are a sheep amongst a den of wolves, and if you draw too much attention to yourself, danger will follow.

You have failed so far, considering you enjoy the company of the King and Queen. Grief unexpectedly brought you together and made your bond steadfast, but wherever Aegon and Helaena go, watchful gazes follow, thus making you part of the spectacle as well.

Otto and Alicent Hightower are taking the reins of this unnecessary war, but you feel safe under Aegon's and Helaena's careful watch. You believe they will protect you from any danger coming from within the castle walls, at the very least.

You're doing your mother a great disservice as you strengthen the bond of the King and Queen. The ache of losing a child will forever remain in their hearts, and waves of pain continue to crash, but that thick fog of grief that was cast upon them has slowly started to lift, thanks to you.

Pushing open the door to Helaena's bedchambers, you step into the room. It's well into the night, and the candlelight illuminates the room. You stumble over your steps when you notice Aegon and Helaena standing close together as if they were about to kiss.

"My apologies, your graces. I believed the Queen to be alone," you bow your head, red painting your cheeks. It's a gesture that originates from embarrassment rather than submissiveness.

"Do not apologize. We wished to speak to you," Aegon speaks, beckoning you deeper into the room.

He offers you a goblet of wine, which you accept gracefully to alleviate the dizzying wave of nerves you're feeling. You've never been alone with Aegon and Helaena. People have always been around, and up to a fortnight ago, they barely spoke to one another.

The ruling couple sought your counsel regarding their marriage, recognizing you as an intermediary. You offered your advice to the best of your abilities, considering you have yet to marry.

With time and encouragement, they reached out to each other for comfort. Piece by piece, they were able to speak and share the emotions that troubled them. Nonetheless, they kept you closer than ever.

You're the calm amidst the storm.

You take a drink of the sweet wine to busy yourself. Helaena and Aegon stand side by side, his hand on the small of her back as Helaena plays with her fingers. They're backlit by the fire burning by the fireplace. It casts a warm glow over their figures, making the situation seem much more intimate. You're certainly intruding.

"We wish to thank you for everything you've done for us recently," Helaena breaks the creeping silence. She's just as nervous as you are, if not more.

"Helaena and I have been thinking about how to repay you for your generosity," Aegon continues, staring intently back at you to gauge your reaction to his words. He's afraid of reading you wrong and fucking things up—like he usually does.

You instantly shake your head, "As I said before, there is no need-"

Helaena's following words cause silence to befall as you stare back at them in surprise. A sort of surprise they cannot read. "We wish to wed you," Helaena blurts nervously, her fingers twisting together.

This is not a moment to speak in riddles. Helaena is fully aware of the situation before her and wishes nothing more than for you to stay by their side, no matter the cost.

For once in her life, she hasn't felt lonely in the castle. She has an ally she can trust and confide in.

You've been the subject of Aegon and Helaena's conversations for numerous nights. At first, it was difficult to understand that they both held deep affection towards you while caring for each other. They debated for a long time about what to do about it and they agreed on one thing wholeheartedly—you only deserved the best.

Then, it came to Aegon.

He's named after Aegon' The Conqueror' Targaryen. The King took over the seven kingdoms with his sister wives by his side.

A simple Valyrian tradition would solve their dilemma while strengthening his claim to the throne. It's poetic, a part of history being re-enacted.

"Pardon?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You stare back at them with wide eyes as they jump from Aegon to Helaena and back to Aegon.

The goblet in your hand lightly shakes along with your hand. You place it on a nearby table, afraid of spilling it. Surely, you misheard.

"Our affection grows greater day by day. More than we ever thought possible," Helaena confesses, desperately reaching for your hand.

Your gaze falls on Aegon to seek his opinion, and he nods in agreement. There is not much to say. You have proved yourself valuable to them in a way that is much too important. You serve to keep them sane and emotionally stable. A feat no one has cared to accomplish before.

You do not use Aegon as a puppet or manipulate him to achieve sinister goals on behalf of his name, much like the rest of the court does. Those people only care for power, even if they break Aegon piece by piece. They destroy him while you take the time to pick up the pieces and put him back together.

"Such drastic actions must not be taken. I merely offered you comfort when you needed it because I care for you both," you stutter, pressing a hand to your forehead. All of a sudden, the room is warm, and a layer of perspiration forms on the back of your neck.

Aegon grunts and approaches you, cupping your face in his palms, "That is precisely why we wish to do this. You have cared for us like no one has before, including ourselves. You planted yourself in our souls, and now we cannot let you go lest we go insane. If you do not feel the same, say it, but do not lie to us."

His tone is firm, yet he cannot disguise the pleading behind it. He's never wanted something as much as he wants you.

"I-" Your palms ghost over the top of his.

It is all too much. The prospect of being wed looms over your head like a threat. Otto Hightower will have no qualms about using your lack of a husband as a war strategy. It should not be his decision in the first place, but it is out of your hands as you're considered a prisoner to him.

You would be a liar if you said you did not reciprocate their feelings. They've been present for a while now, it is why comforting them comes so easily to you. Seeing them hurt only pains you.

With this new opportunity, you will no longer be used. You will not be sold to some old lord in the countryside for the gain of a few hundred men. You would be protected.

Most importantly, you will marry a man and a woman who love you. Yes, they are broken, but with you by their side, they will thrive and rise to the occasion.

Aegon's lilac eyes beg you to accept their proposal. "I feel emotions I thought impossible. They are confusing and overwhelming, but they are real," you admit.

Relief floods over Aegon, and he can't help but release a sigh of relief. He presses his forehead against yours, whispering a silent thank you to the old gods and the new.

"Will you become our wife? Our lifelong companion?" Helaena asks, coming up behind you. You feel her breath on your neck as she leans her head on your shoulder.

One word is enough to respond. One simple word will change your life. For good or bad is to be determined.

"Yes," you breathe, reaching for her hand. The smile on Aegon's lips and Helaena's giggles in your ear make it all worth it.

Aegon needed to do things right so no one could argue against your union. He contacted the Septon himself, and only a day later, after his proposal, the Valyrian ceremony took place.

He clearly instructed his guard and the Septon that they must not tell anyone, or there would be consequences.

The ceremony is quick and private amongst the gardens of the Red Keep. You wear the traditional red and gold robes and headpieces that match Aegon's.

A red dragon decorates the front of your garb, matching Helaena's golden one on her dress. She stands to the side with a faint smile, Jaehaera clinging to her dress.

Aegon carefully cuts your lip with the dragon glass. As blood surges to the surface, he presses his thumb to the cut and later spreads it across your skin. You repeat the same on his lips, staring apologetically back at him, yet the burning pain does not compare to the pain he's felt before. It's almost pleasurable as he takes in the symbolism of the gesture.

Cutting your palms, you let the blood that will bind you together for eternity fall onto the goblet. You lock eyes with Aegon as you take a drink from it, passing it to him a moment later.

He was not raised surrounded by Targaryen customs, but he has a new deep appreciation for them. The ceremony is deeply intimate as they share the blood that will mark them as one.

With a couple of final words, the Septon concludes the ceremony and with the knowledge that you are entirely theirs, Aegon crashes his lips against yours.

Aegon stayed firm in his words. He did not wish to sully your name, so he waited until the moment was right. The reward is much too sweet.

It is the first time you've shared a kiss with Aegon, and it is unlike anything you've felt before. In the past, you've snuck kisses in dark corners of the Red Keep, but none have ever kissed you with the intensity Aegon has to offer.

Helaena approaches your tangled embrace, and as you resurface for a breath, she presses her much more delicate lips on yours. The kiss is so different yet the same simultaneously. The intent behind it is identical while the pace is slower and sultrier.

Yours and Aegon’s blood coats her lips and it’s as if she also partook on the ceremony. Your heart beats intensely inside your chest but you’re happy.

Finally, you three are bonded, destined to stay together for eternity.

Jaehaerys will forever be missed. His life has become a mystery; Aegon and Helaena will never see it fulfilled. But in this tragedy, the gods were kind to Aegon and Helaena and provided a new person to love, cherish, and join their family.

were you expecting a good old throuple situation? eh, eh (pretend i'm wiggling my eyebrows and nudging your side with my elbow). im just saying she's perfect for their little dysfunctional family and the drama it will create with the Hightowers and Targaryens? immaculate.

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and gushing about hel and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

[withjaejae]

Hole-in-one | JJK

A day of golf goes better than expected despite being ditched by your bestfriend and spending the afternoon with your so-called rival.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

High society of sorts, Richie Rich type of wealth.

Warnings: Oral (m/f), sexual jokes, dig bick Jk, playful banter, unprotected sex, squirting, throat fucking, sexual tension, one-shot. (Did I miss something?)

A/N: I wanted to write more but I thought it ended ok. My knowledge on golf is based on Wii which I stopped playing a long time ago. So bear with me.

I have no way to know how long but enjoy.

Because some of you asked nicely

PART 2 PART3 PART4 PART 5 Complete

++++++

You groan in frustration as you read Namjoon's text saying he left with the girl he met at the club lobby.

It was a nice sunny afternoon, perfect for golf. At least Namjoon was gonna fill holes either way and that irks you the most. He's had women, left and right, while you struggled with your types.

All you want was a man who shared the same things you like. Golf was your thing, Namjoon came for the women who thought they were stealing him from you. When in fact, Namjoon was your cousin/best friend.

"Alone today?" The attendant, Jean, always met you with a smile and your golf clubs.

"Yeah, unfortunately my cousin can't last a second without a mouth around his dick." Her face flushed a deep crimson. "No offense." Yup, she and Namjoon did it too.

"None taken, I'm over it." She shrugs and grabs the golf kart key from the shelf. "Shall we?"

"I think I wanna go solo today, Jean. Thanks." You take the key from her and she nods. She knows better than to say no to you.

Your custom lavender colored Kart waited for you, your initials in mettalic purple on the front. It was parked next to several other custom karts.

You arrived at your first course. A man was already standing there, setting up his own stuff. No caddie in sight, you notice his arms and very much know who he is. You look at the deep purple colored kart next to yours.

"No girls to fuck on this fine afternoon, Jeon?" You smirk as you step out of your kart.

He stands up straight at the sound of your voice, he doesn't need to turn around to know its you.

"I wondered why the birds stopped singing." He continues to set up his tee. "No dicks to suck?" He quips.

"I don't fuck on the weekends." You're unfazed having been bantering like this for about a year now.

"Oh look, we do have things in common." He calls 'fore' before swinging his club.

You both watched as the ball lands near the hole. Out of respect you clap your hands, that was a good swing.

"Namjoon?" He finally turns to look at you, his eyes rake over your legs, your skirt is too short for golfing and your top hugged you so well he could outline your tits.

"Found a poor soul in the lobby before he could even touch some grass." You snort and pull out your own driver and ball.

He steps back, clearly you both could use the company even if it meant mean retorts.

You take position, he doesn't even try to be subtle about oggling at your ass.

You and Jungkook are neighbors but you studied abroad for middle school and highschool. Why you chose to come home for college, you're not sure. But you and Jungkook are in senior year now and you have common friend groups but not really that close until...

A year ago, you finally joined your parents to the Jeon's hunting weekend, it was an annual thing. It was going smoothly for the most part but when you and Jungkook shot the same boar at the same time, that's when the mean comments started. It was a rivalry of sorts, one trying to become better than the other.

Contrary to what he said earlier, you have too many things in common being raised in high society.

You see each other all the time at sport events and even charities but nothing beyond those events.

To be here with him, without anyone else is a first. You both won't admit that you've been crushing on each other but your society knows there's tension between you two.

"Nice ass." He comments just as you swing. Your ball landing a bit far from the hole.

"You did that on purpose." You frown at him, he was already smirking with that cute bunny looking face, his nose scrunched up.

"I did. Now look, looks like you need two more strokes to make it." He snorts as he walks towards his kart and you groan as you follow him.

"Title of your sex tape." You comment under your breath, he laughs.

You both drive down the path towards the hole.

You study the distance of your ball to the hole and his distance. You can make it in one, if you're lucky.

He lines himself up.

"Nice ass." You say back as he swings and it goes right in. You roll your eyes.

"Two strokes." He winks and moves to stand next to you. Shoulders touching, suddenly it feels warmer.

You stop to feel the wind, you work on your angle and with one stroke, it goes in too.

"Impressive." He claps his hands too and you made a little curtsy. "Never thought you'd be this good at golf."

"You see me here all the time. Doesn't that make sense?" You take both balls from the hole.

Instead of putting the ball in his palm, you make a bold move of standing in front of him while slipping both in his pockets.

"There, now you have a pair of balls." You look up at him, for a second his eyes darkened but the smirk was back.

He leans down, lips nearly touching. "YN, if you wanted to touch my balls, all you need to do is ask."

Your cheeks feel hot and it doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook. But you never back down.

"I thought you didn't have any." You lean closer, one more move and your lips would be touching.

"I can show you right now." Your face moves back. "All talk and no walk, a shame." He stands up straight. "But if you want it so badly. When I do a hole in one, you be my caddie. And if you do a hole in one, I'll fuck your brains out."

You snort but can't help feel the rush of wetness from between your folds.

"You say that like fucking you is a prize." You step away from him. "The only hole you'll get to fill today are on the course. But..." You flip your hair to the side, a mischievous glint in your eye. "If you wanted to, all you have to do is ask."

"Oh? Then, YN, can I fuck your brains out?" Oh, he's bold. You roll your eyes and walk back to your Kart.

He follows you, with a grin plastered on his face.

"Are you scared you might actually like it?" You scoff and look at him. Your heartrate suddenly spiking.

"I'm afraid I might get disappointed." You start to feel hot. Its only been one course, if you go back now. Jean will definitely say something.

"Oh baby, I could live up to your gold standard. I am gold standard." He's cocky and arrogant but god it would be a lie to say you're not turned on.

"See you at the next course, Jeon." Your kart starts backing up and he rushes to follow you again.

You both arrive at the same time, this time at a more difficult course.

"The next course we should do is intercourse." He hasn't even reached you yet and he's already teasing.

"Shut up before someone hears you." You forcefully stick your tee on the ground.

"Why? Its not like we're both kids, plus nobody is around." He looks around, the next group of golfers are a hectare away.

You sigh and face him again. He loves riling you up, it was just playful banter before and now that you've entered this kind of teasing, he loves your reactions.

"Okay." You declare. His grin ceasing a bit, his eyebrows raised. "I'll tee first, if I do a hole in one, you get on your knees and..."

"Beg for your forgiveness? Princess I don't beg." He smirks again, he licks his lip piercing.

You step even closer, your tits touching his chest and he loves the feeling. "No, I want the golden boy to get on his knees and show me what that mouth can do other than tease." His throat runs dry.

Shit. "Is that supposed to be a punishment? You'd probably beg for more once I'm done." He kicks his leg, hopefully to free some space in his pants for his growing boner.

You hum. "Another thing we have in common, I don't beg." Lie, you always beg in bed.

"Deal. But if I make a hole in one, you're the one getting on your knees." He's confident. Given your 'punishments' aren't really punishments. He'd love to eat you out, but he won't tell you that.

But you know this course, you've hit holes in ones in this. Yout heart is beating loudly almost clouding your senses. Jungkook has a permanent teasing smirk on his face you'd like to kiss off.

Out of all the places you could have teased each other into fucking, you didn't expect it to be at the golf course.

"Don't worry princess, I'll be gentle... At first." He chuckles.

You take a deep breath and swing. You both watched the ball as it flies over the field. You bit your lip at it lands an inch away and it falls right in. Your hands fly in the air cheering for yourself.

"Are you this excited to have me eat you?" He was standing directly behind you, his warmth and scent engulfing you. "My turn."

You step away and wink at him. He takes a deep breath and swings. You both watch as it takes the same speed and the same arch and his ball lands the exact same way yours did. A hole in one for the both of you.

He turns to you with a satisfied grin.

"I hope your throat is ready for me princess." Your nerves are going haywire at his voice. Did it get lower?

You quietly head to your kart, you nod to the side, gesturing him to follow you and you drive away.

The thing with this club house is, both your parents are partial owners, hence you have access to the many rooms the place offers if you asked.

Lucky for you, you already planned on staying the night since it was a free weekend.

You barely parked properly, tossing the key to the valet. You meet Jean and you ask for a room key, she eyes you then behind you, sure enough Jeon Jungkook was standing there, watching your ass again.

She hands you the key card. No more words exchanged between you, sexual tension builds in its wake.

You head to the elevator and head to the third floor. The suites.

Your breathing is starting to get ragged as you feel the fragile tension inside the elevator. Jungkoom just stood there, eyes forward, hands in his pockets. He refrains from moving since this place had security camers and your neighborhood would have a field day if you fucked in the club elevators.

But all he can hear is his heartbeat, all he can smell is you, and all he can feel is the tightness in his pants.

He follows you down the hall, and you swipe the key card. The moment the two of you cross the threshold and the door securely locked. You turn to face him and his hands are already on you, pulling your face into feverish kiss. You moan into the kiss as he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his torso.

He takes you to the couch. He grins into the kiss.

"What?" You pull away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

"I was thinking who should get their prize first." His hand was on your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip. You take it into your mouth and suck on it. "fuck." He mumbles and his breath gets caught in his throat.

"Since I'm being generous." You get off him and get on your knees in front of him. "Wouldn't want to keep my goldben boy waiting." The way you called him yours made his heart skip a beat.

It was a joint effort to take his pants off. What he didn't expect was for you to take your top off, a sexy lace bra underneath it. Usually, you wear a sports bra but you didn't feel like it today. Now you know why.

He's huge. Your wetness growing in your panties. Eager to have him, you take a hold of his base and rub his dick over your face.

You moan and finally take him into your mouth. He hisses and moans.

His fingers weave through your hair. The way you look up at him as you take him deeper almost made him cum. Fuck, for years you basically ignored each other despite everyone teasing you about ending up together since your parents were basically best friends, had you known that his dick would fit perfectly in your mouth.

You moan around him, the vibrations sending Jungkook into pure bliss.

"Keep going." His head was thrown back as he moans loudly. "So fucking needy." You took him deeper to show him how needy you can become.

He takes your hands and places them on his thigh. "Double tap if you can't take it." You nod knowing what he'd do next. He did say he'd be gentle at first.

He weaves both hands into your hair this time and fucked your throat. Your tears and drool flow freely, you look like a fucking porn star and Jungkook loves it. You're taking him so well he moans out loudly.

"I'm gonna fucking cum down your throat." He forces his words out and you simply take in his thrusts. With one last shove he shoots his load down your throat, you swallow around him. "Holy fucking shit, where the hell have you been all my life." His breathing was ragged as you pull off him, grinning like the slut you are. "Who knew that a princess like you loved to be treated like a whore, my whore."

He makes you stand up, you use your shirt to wipe off the drool, you avoid your tears that made makeup run down your cheeks, that's going to stain.

Jungkook kisses your pelvis as he rids you of your skort. The lace thong that matches your bra peek through and he's starting to get hard again.

He takes off his shirt and pulls you down for you to land over his shoulder. He stood up like you weigh nothing, you shriek and giggle at the way he's handling you.

He literally throws you onto the bed, but the way you landed seemed so graceful in Jungkook's eyes. So pretty, so delicate, like you were made of porcelain with the sex drive of a succubus.

His eyes were glassy, hazed from the mindblowing head he received. Crawling towards you as you scoot up to the headboard.

"Time for your prize princess." He uses his teeth to pull down your thong and expertly unclasping your bra.

"I better get my money's worth, Mr. Gold standard." He captures your lips in his before slowly kissing down on your skin, your eyes roll to the back of your head as he finds the sweet spot near your clavicle.

Your scent is addicting, what he'd give to get a taste of you everyday. He can make that happen, he will make that happen.

After all, high society is all about marrying each other to keep the weath from seeping out of your grasp. He's hypnotized by the way your chest rises and falls as he inches towards your needy pussy.

You've lost it the moment his tongue comes in contact with your folds. He wastes no time devouring you, you sound so good.

This is bad, so bad that he hasn't even fucked you properly and he already wants to marry you. Keep you close because nobody else should see what he's looking at right now.

His tongue works wonders, lips sucking on ever inch. You were chanting his name like it was a prayer. "Holy fuck baby." The petname sounds so nice coming from you.

It wasn't long until your moans become more high-pitched as you fuck yourself on his tongue. What threw you over the edge were the two fingers he inserted. You were squirting all over his face, your body shaking like a leaf.

"That was hot." He smirks up at you, putting both hands on your face as you tried to control your breathing. "You okay?" He moves up to hover over you, prying your hands away.

"I've never... I—I haven't..." Squirted but you can't seem to say it. Jungkook captures your lips again, you taste yourself.

"I'm honored, princess." He teases and you blush. How can he make you feel giddy when you literally just came all over his face.

Something inside you tell you that you'll never find another man who can make you feel like this, who can make you cum like that. No, you need this everyday.

"Jungkook." You reach down towards his erection. "I want you to fuck my brains out." Referring to your earlier conversations.

"Fuck yes baby." He dives in to kiss you with much more need than the previous one.

The tip of his head was rubbing against your opening, he was waiting for you to protest and ask him to wrap it up but you dig your heels on his ass instead.

"Fuck me." Your fingers scrape through his hair. "Please, baby." He chuckles.

"I thought you didn't beg?" He finally pushes in you, your mouth falls open but you don't make a sound other than a small squeak. "You're made for my cock. So fucking tight." He grunts.

You start begging him to go faster and harder, Jungkook happily obliges. With your thighs thrown over his shoulder, his hand wrapped around your throat, he could get used to this. You feel so good and he wasn't holding back from telling you what a good whore you are.

He lifts your ass up just a little hitting you at an angle you never knew felt so fucking good you're cumming again.

He fucks you, over and over. One orgasm after the other, you've lost count of how many. It wasn't until he spills his load all over your tits that he finally collapses next to you.

After care be damned, you both fall asleep in each other's arms covered in cum.

Your phones ring at the same time. 6pm sharp.

"Hey dad." He groans into the phone.

"Mom." You pick up your own phone.

Legs still tangled around each other as you both spoke to your parents. You both answer the same thing.

"Let me guess, dinner?" Jungkook tosses his phone on the night stand as you lay yours gently.

"Yeah, at your place." You mumble. "I think we passed out." You giggle.

"Fuck yeah we did." His bunny toothed smile. "Wanna shower together?"

With your body aching like crazy you decide to shower here. The warm bath helping you recover, of course you two fucked again.

He drops you off at your house before parking his car at their mansion next door. He waves at you as you both enter the house.

Your mom was standing by the window with a huge grin on her face.

"Did Jungkook drop you off? I though you weren't close like that?" She asks as you step up the stairs.

"Yeah, but we... We went golfing today. It was fun." You smile, and your mom simply nodded.

It was more than fun. It was definitely gold standard. The best hole in one you've had.

-----------

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (Complete)

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Chocolate Princess ♡

Willy Wonka x reader

Description - Y/n Ficklegruber can't help but become enamoured with the spectacularly peculiar man stood in the middle of the galleria.

Word count - 1.6k

warnings - fluff ♡

a/n: Watched Wonka today with my sister and my little cousins and honestly have never smiled so much during a film. Every bit of it was just pure wondourous imagination. And Timothee as Wonka was just too scrumptious! Who couldn't love him!

Masterlist

PART TWO

--♡--

I began everyday as I always did. Being ungraciously tumbled out of my pink satin sheets, poked and prodded by our various servants, squeezed into the most painstakingly prissy pink gingham dress (with a matching bow for extra faff), and hauled into my fathers car to join him on his way to work.

You see, I am the sole child of famed chocolatier Felix Ficklegruber. Since I had completed my mandatory years of studies, my days consisted of lounging about my fathers office in complete boredom. My mind practically weakened with the mundane repetitiveness of it all, and I knew it would surely combust if it was not stimulated soon. For 2 years now, I had been begging my father to allow me to study at the prestigious university at the edge of town. But each plea had been met with a scoff, an eyebrow raise and sharp “no”. Even the library was off limits.

I paced around his office, deliberately scuffing my mary janes against the carpet. I smirked at how each scrape made his face tick as if it was being flicked.

“Would you cease that infernal racket. I am trying to work, precious girl.”

“What work? All you do is sit up here eating your own chocolate.” I slumped down onto the disgustingly green couch.

“Please darling, you are giving me a headache, I must ring for my 8am mocha.” He picked up the telephone, clasping his fingers to his eyes.

I drummed my fingers against my dress and clicked my heels together. “You know,” I trailed off. “I wouldn’t be here to bother you at all if…I was at the library.”

The phone was slammed back onto the receiver which made me flinch. He rose from the desk and stalked his way towards me.

“No daughter of mine will be caught in some stuffy book prison-”

“That’s not entirely correct..”

“--That are refuge for the ugly, the untalented and the p–” He dry heaved. I winced at the possibility of another spew. “The p-” I lunged for a bowl as he spluttered.

“I know what you are going to say so maybe we should avoid any bodily functions.” I picked up his monogrammed hanky and wet it from my glass of water. I dabbed the cool liquid against his mouth. His eyes softened at my action and his hand softly clasped around my wrist.

“Sweetheart, you live in complete luxury. Have treasures other children couldn’t even dream of. Why can’t you just stay.” My gaze fell. His hands held my shoulders to turn me around and led me towards the towering window which overlooked the galleria. “Besides, one day you will inherit my pride and joy, my fortune, the very thing that ignites my soul, my–”

“Who’s that?” I interrupted, and pointed my finger to a beautifully disheveled man who had risen atop his suitcase in order to address the crowd. I quirked a smile and took in the strange man, who was truly more a boy, and his frightfully exciting appearance.

The thickness of the window meant I couldn’t hear what the boy was saying but his movements and expressions delighted me to no end. I giggled as he began to flap, mimicking a butterfly. I gasped as he produced from his shallow hat, a large jar of what appeared to be chocolate eggs. But once he took the top off, I shrieked in delight, as each little egg floated up as if carried by wings.

I felt my father stiffen before he shoved me away from the window.

“Now, now sweetheart. Do not bother looking at this man any longer. Clearly another hopeful vagrant but do not worry.” He lifted my chin with his pinky. “We shall deal with him right now.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly who was ‘we’.

--♡--

Once the three had left their respective stores, I snuck out of our own and managed to squeeze my way through the crowd so I was left behind my father and my, and I regret to say it, godfathers.

They each took a bite of the treats offered by the mysterious man who beamed at them with awe filled eyes.

Even from my limited view I could see the flickers of enjoyment cross each of their eyes as they questioned the different ingredients. But my gazing was caught by the top hatted man. His smile grew even brighter as our eyes met. I felt unsure in the presence of a man such as him and all my normal instincts failed. So I settled on a little wave. He offered a small wave back.

“--100%, the absolute WORST!”

The man jumped out of his skin in glee, mishearing Slugworth because of his focus on me.

“Did you hear that ladies and gentlemen, an endorsement by–wait did you say the worst?”

Anger bubbling in my blood, I finally made my presence known.

“You lie, Arthur. I saw your face! You haven’t enjoyed a treat that much since daddy figured out how to make marshmallow flavored chocolate milk.”

There were murmurs amongst the three in agreement and fond memory of that chocolate milk. But they snapped back and I was held firmly by my father who apologized to Slugworth for my rude behavior. A cane was held down on the hand that gripped me. I looked up and met the sweet face of its owner.

“I am terribly sorry.” With a practiced flick I was released. I looped my hand around my saviours available arm. He led me backwards in comical cautiousness. “But I don’t think she’d like to be held for what comes next.”

Suddenly, the three men began to lift into the air.

“The hoverbugs from mumbai! They love chocolate! You must have put their eggs in the treat!” I exclaimed excitedly, whilst watching the hilarious display.

“Exactly.” In my glee, I hadn’t noticed the adoring look which the chocolatier had fixed on the side of my head.

The fun was interrupted by the chief of police. I rolled my eyes. Slugworth must have phoned.

“Now Ms Ficklegruber if you’d kindly step away from the criminal.” The chief of police gestured and I was led away as they interrogated the man whose name I still didn’t know. I looked on sadly as he was forced to give up his earnings. I shoved off the policemen’s arms, I made my way back over to the man whose face was as solemn as how happy it had been just minutes before. The excitement around the galleria had dimmed as various floating consumers were returned to gravity.

“I am really sorry.” I gestured to the measly sovereign he was left with.

“Don’t be. It was a law and I broke it. These fine men were merely doing their job. But a new day shall bring new promise.” He soldiered on with a smile and once again patted his hat back upon his head. “At least I can make rent.” He flicked the sovereign up and caught it once again.

“Where are you staying?”

“Scrubbits.”

My face fell in sympathy. “You didn’t read the fine print?” I pitied the poor man and what was about to befall him. Scrubbits contract was a common warning amongst residents but as I truly took in the whimsical nature which surrounded this man, I knew he wasn't from here. And that made me smile. This place could use something new.

He sheepishly scratched the back of his head and lowered his eyeline.

“You can’t read?” I questioned but my tone couldn't help but soften.

“I always thought my mama would teach me, but eventually my pursuits became solely chocolate.” I reached out and grasped his arm. Stroking the velvet beneath my fingertips.

Before I even knew what they were, the words left my mouth. “I could teach you.”

He was surprised. “You would? But why?”

“You’re interesting.” I peered back to the shop which loomed behind me. “I need that.”

“Forgive me, I have not even introduced myself.” He took off his hat and leaned into a deep bow. “My name is Willy Wonka.”

I giggled but responded with a curtsy of my own. “Y/n Ficklegruber.”

At the mention of my last name he looked towards the ceiling where my father still hung, gesturing feebly. “Wow. You really have chocolate in your blood. No wonder you’re so sweet.” Both our eyes widened when we realized what he said. A blush spread across my heated cheeks and meeting Willy’s eyes suddenly became impossible.

“Y/N GET AWAY FROM THAT CANDY GRABBING SCOUNDREL!” My fathers voice beat down from the ceiling where he had been watching my entire interaction with Wonka.

“Meet me at the fountain, tonight, 10pm sharp. Daddy will be in a sugar crash by then. It’ll be easy to sneak out.”

Before I could rush off to avoid my father once his feet returned to earth, Willy halted my movements and placed his empty palm out in front of me.

“Before you go, I want to give you something. You shouldn’t have anything I make in bulk. You deserve something a little more…” He placed a cloth over his palm and ripped it off revealing a deep red chocolate heart decorated with tiny flakes of gold. “Bespoke.”

I placed the treat in my mouth and audibly moaned at the taste. This man was a true genius. My father is going to be so mad. I could jump for joy.

“Till tonight, Mr Wonka.”

“Please, call me Willy.” I leaned up and delicately kissed his cheek in a way of goodbye.

--♡--

That night after discovering the true horror of what being a “guest” of Scrubbits included, Willy begged and pleaded with his newest friend, Noodle, to help him sneak out for the night because, in his words, he’d seen…

“The most beautiful girl to ever exist and if I don’t get to see her again tonight, my heart might just burst out of my chest!”

--♡--

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Particular Risk

Synopsis: They say taking a risk could drown you-- but you knew it must be taken, and if you were to jump in the deep end, your knight would always follow you closely behind. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess Realizations, Jealousy, Fluff, Princess Taking Risks PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: MWAH 💋

“No! I’ve already worn this last year— and this the year before that!” You explained as you tried to find a headpiece for your father’s name day celebration. It was a tradition that each name day of the king was celebrated with a masquerade ball— a tradition you had looked forward to each year, always amused and excited to attend such an event. Through the years, it had become vexing as you took it upon yourself to wear a headpiece unique and unlike the other you had worn or anything similar to other members of the court. “How about this, princess? It—“ You cut off the masque maker, “My cousin had already worn a mask similar to that one three years before,” You sighed, struggling to find the final piece of your ensemble for the ball that was fast approaching. 

“If I may, princess— perhaps you have a design in mind? If none of these are to your liking, we are more than happy to create a piece completly unique to you.” The masque maker suggested, not wanting to leave their princess unhappy. You paused for a moment and thought about the proposition before nodding; Ser Aemond was quick to your aid and handed you your leather-bound sketchbook and charcoal. You smiled upon him in gratitude, trying to urge yourself to grow accustomed to the quickening in your heart each time your eyes met and your skin brushed. Aemond marveled at how quick you were to sketch what you desired, quickly creating what you wished. You tore the page and handed it to the masque maker. It was a mask in the intricate design of a butterfly wing. “And I want it to be made with sapphires and… and perhaps gold, if it’s not too heavy,” You say, pointing at the places you wished to put the precious gemstones. “Of course, princess, we shall make it right away,” The masque maker bowed and proceeded to leave with haste to complete your masque for the ball that was merely three days away. 

As he left you, bit your lip and frowned, “Did you think I was too demanding?” You suddenly asked Ser Aemond as you rested your back on your settee. Second-guessing your particularity and having to ask the masque maker to make you a specific mask when, in truth, the masks he presented were completely adequate. “No, princess,” Aemond replied, questioning why you asked such a question. “Why would you think so?” You sighed and shrugged, “Well, it’s just… I feel guilty— maybe the masque maker thinks I do not think his designs are good to the point that I had to make my own; I do not wish to offend him…” You pouted, taking hold of the masques he had left, twirling the feather decoration between your fingers. “You are too kind, princess,” Aemond said, his heart warming and concerned at how such a little encounter made you feel guilty. “You know what it is you want— that is an admirable quality,” Aemond hummed.

“Is it? My mother always said my particularity is a sin because it makes me demanding,” You muttered. Aemond straightened his stance, “There is a difference between knowing what you want and demanding what you want, princess,” He said, “Being demanding is you take for granted all that you are given— asking and asking for more without even a speck of gratitude. That is not you, princess… that is never you,” You smiled at your knight as his words only made you fall deeper for him. “That is very kind of you to say,” You smiled, trying to reign in the flush that crept up your cheeks. Aemond bit the insides of his cheeks as he realized the smile on your lips was because of him. 

When the day of the ball arrived, the keep was busied to prepare for the night's festivities. Ser Aemond stood outside your door as you were prepared for the party in your father’s name, observing and listening to your pacing footsteps as you frantically got ready. “Tighter, please.” You say as you steadied yourself by the poster of your bed. “Are you certain, princess? Can you even breathe?” Your handmaid questions, apprehension heavy in her voice. You nodded and took in a deep breath as your corset was tightened to your liking. You let out a sigh as your body was hugged further by the bodice of your dress. You moved towards your vanity as your handmaid began to style your hair. Theodore lept upon the table, and you cooed at your cat, who was almost fully grown, placing a special collar and a special headpiece on his head so he would not feel left out for the day’s gala. 

A knock sounded out as your handmaiden finished styling your hair. You thanked her and dismissed her, and in exchange, Ser Aemond entered your chambers holding two silk boxes. “Your masque has arrived, princess,” Ser Aemond stated and placed down the boxes on your vanity table. A wide grin spread upon your lips as you inspected the mask made to your specifications and wants. He turned towards the other box, not certain of what it could contain, for he knew you had only sent out one design, but he did not question it. 

You gently placed down the masque and stood, taking hold of the unopened box, and walked to Ser Aemond, urging him to take it. “Pardon, princess?” he asked as he was uncertain what you meant. “It’s yours— I sent them another design and asked them to make a mask for you,” You smiled. Aemond blinked. “I… I am not in need of a mask, princess— I am not a guest.” He said, but you only shook your head. 

“All who will be in the hall later are in need to wear a masque! You are to be my side later on, are you not?” You question, and Ser Aemond nodded. “Of course, I will be by your side—but I do not need a mask— if anything, it would hinder me from my duty. I already only have one eye; it would be cumbersome if I wore a mask and obstructed the view of the other,” He explained, and you pursed your lips. “Which is why I designed one specifically for you,” You say and urge him once again to open the box. Ser Aemond did so hesitantly. Aemond pursed his lips as he was presented with a mask that matched yours. One that covered his damaged eye with a gleaming sapphire. Aemond swallowed thickly, at a loss for words. Had you known his secret? How did you know all that he hid? 

“Do you not like it?” You asked, slight dread in your stomach as your knight only gaped upon the mask you designed. “No— I…I do,” He suddenly spoke, fearing he offended you. You bit your lip as you could not read his eye, “If you truly do not wish to wear a mask, I understand,” You said and tried to take it from his hold, but he hindered you. “No, I shall wear it. Thank you, princess,” your knight assured, and you nodded, hoping you did not force upon your knight the mask. 

“Princess, the guests are arriving,” You hear a squire call out, and you move to wear your mask and carry Theodore in your arms. As you turned your gaze to your knight, Ser Aemond had already forgone his eyepatch and wore the mask that matched yours— a picture of unity that you could humor yourself with. You smiled as he led out his arm for you to take as the two of you went down to the reception hall. “Happy name day, Father!” You greeted as you saw your father standing by the great doors, already wearing his mask. “Thank you, my darling, and don’t you look lovely,” The king smiled, kissed his daughter on the cheek, and petted her beloved cat. The king moved to glance at the knight who stood behind his daughter, Ser Aemond giving a bow at the king, who gave a nod and noticed how Ser Aemond’s maks matched his daughter’s; the king said naught a word. 

You took your place by the left of your brother, and your knight stood behind you. “Did you truly bejeweled your cat’s collar?” Your brother asked, looking upon Theodore, who was perfectly behaved in your arms. “Of course! No child of mine would be underdressed!” You say, placing a kiss on your cat’s back, and your brother lets out an amused breath as you claim the feline to be your child. You greeted the guests who attended the celebration, but you could not help but be distracted and glance towards your knight— sneaking a look upon him as he surveilled all who came and, if any, presented danger. Gods, the sapphire truly suited him. You could not help but think. You let out a breath and returned to face forward to return at the matter at hand, fearing Ser Aemond would notice your glances and learn of your affection for him. 

When the party had moved to the great hall, you found your way back to your knight, ushering you along the crowded room. The two of you were supposed to make your way toward the long table at the end of the grand hall, but the call of your name, unchained by any title, made you both pause. Ser Aemond was quick to frown at who had the gall to call upon you so openly. He turned to you, and before he could utter a word, you left his side and readily ran towards the call. Aemond felt a twisting in his gut as you ran towards the man and threw your arms around him— the stranger twirling around and even went as far as to kiss your cheek. Aemond swallowed thickly, not knowing what to do. He knew he must be by your side, but he could not bear to be there when another took his place. 

“I did not know you would attend! Why did you not write to me?” He heard your question, watching as you took hold of the man’s hand and pulled towards the end table, walking past him without another glance. Aemond’s hold on the hilt of his sword tightened as he followed you and the stranger whom your brother and your father readily and warmly welcomed. Absent was any recognition from your mother— which was not at all surprising. “You did not tell us you will attend!” Your brother greeted in surprise, hugging the man and giving him a clap on the back. “Of course, I would never miss the king’s name day,” He charmingly smiled, and Aemond watched you roll your eyes as if it were something amusing that completely flew over Aemond’s head— he could not even bear to look upon the man’s face as he was certain if he did, he would have to battle with the urge to maim him. Who was he?! 

Throughout the whole night, you were enveloped with merriment and were entertained by the man that Aemond had slipped away form your side, and he was certain that you had not even noticed. He watched from a distance as you spun on the dance floor, laughing carelessly whilst in the arm of another. Aemond looked away, unable to bear such a scene. Jealousy was consuming him, but at the same time, he knew he had no right to feel such emotions, for he was only your knight. And yet, envy gnawed at him— coursing through his veins and making the scar of his eye throb and burn. 

At the height of the party, you excused yourself to have a breath of fresh air; you looked around the hall in search of your knight. You had been trying to capture his gaze the whole night, trying to spot his unique silver hair, but he had been seamlessly in the crowd, denying you to gaze upon his lilac eye. You went towards the farthest balcony alone, wagering to yourself that your knight would somehow find you— that an unknown presence would pull him towards you. It did. 

“I haven’t seen you the whole night,” You stated, staring at the moon at the distant sound of the party filled the quiet night. You had felt him creep up by his rightful place that he had abandoned the past few hours. “How could you? You were distracted,” Aemond answered, tone holding bitterness that he tried not to seep through, but jealousy was an erratic and unbridled emotion that not many could control. You finally turned to look upon your knight, your smile faltering as you saw his overly stoic demeanor, and he had removed the mask you had made especially for him. “You’re not wearing your mask anymore,” you said quietly, a tad disappointed. “I did not feel the need to, princess,” He answered coldly.

You blinked upon the furrow in his brows. “Are you well?” You questioned, the air between you tenser than it was just a few hours before. “Yes,” Ser Aemond answered curtly. “But you’re frowning,” Ser Aemond shook his head, “I am not, princess.” You playfully rolled your eyes and step closer to your knight. “You are, there’s a line between your brows,” You say, reaching up and trying to smoothen the crease on the middle of his face. But as you did, your knight jerked his head away— as if your touch had scorned him— he moved away as if he were disgusted. “I—“ You say and quickly retrieve your hand, your stomach twisting as you find offense in his actions. “I’m sorry,” You finished your sentence, not expecting him to react in such a way. 

Aemond saw the hurt in your eyes, guilt creeping into his bloodstream, but it was overpowered by the jealousy he felt as he had to observe you with the stranger. “Go back to the party, princess,” He said, voice having the same tone of indifference it had during his first days as your sworn protector. “I… I do not understand you,” you said, resting your hand on your abdomen as the twist in your stomach never left. “One moment, you are warm and… and kind and obliging— then the next, you turn cold and detached… why do you do it?” You asked, as much as you hold affection for Ser Aemond, it was hard to overlook his differing treatment. It confuses you further, and you do not know if his sentiments were genuine or an act. Aemond shook his head once more, not wanting to answer your question. 

“Just return to the party, princess— I’m certain he is waiting for you,” He gritted, not able to meet you in the eye. You frowned, noting the bitterness in his voice, a bitterness you had grown to know as you had felt it more often as of late. You turned your gaze upon his gritted jaw, then to his clenched fists. “Are you jealous?” You suddenly asked, his stature not of anger but rather of jealousy. His reactions are quite the same as yours as you felt such emotions. Aemond scoffed, “What kind of question is that?” He asked in ridicule, once again toeing the line of impertinence as he addressed you in such a tone. 

“A simple one. Are you jealous?” You asked once more, curious as well if that was the emotion he felt and as to why he felt it and what it meant if he were actually jealous. “I do not know what you speak of, princess.” Aemond gritted, not wanting to admit that you knew the precise emotion he felt. You tried to meet his eye, trying to see if he uttered the truth, but he avoided your gaze. You bit your lip in defeat and embarrassment. “Very well then,” you nodded and walked past him and did as he said and returned to the party but your merriment had gone the moment your knight had left your side. 

“Come, let me escort you to your chambers,” Aemond heard the man say as he linked his arms with yours. He could not believe what he heard and saw— you nodded and let him assist you, bidding your family good night, and they only let you go off with the stranger without question. Even your brother, who was overly protective of you when it came to your suitors, only nodded and bid you goodnight, not even batting an eye as he let the man escort you to your chambers. Aemond wanted to scream— to let out his frustrations at what was happening, at how you, the one who had insisted that she wanted nothing to do with a suitor or the opposite sex, let this man escort you to your room. He tried to listen in to your conversation as he trailed behind you in the halls, but your voices were hushed and could not be understood; it was as if you two spoke a secret language— familiarity between the two of you evident and only twisted the heart of Aemond. 

You paused when you reached your door, smiling at the man. Ser Aemond held his breath as he watched you stand at the tip of your toes and give the man a kiss on the cheek. By gods, this was torture. What had he done to bear witness to such a scene? Aemond was ready to succumb to another dimension of hurt and envy, but before he could fall into a further pit of despair, he heard you speak. “Good night… brother,” You smiled fondly. Ser Aemond caught your eye as you quickly glanced at him before disappearing into your chambers, leaving him dumbfounded. Brother?

The next morning came, and everyone in the keep had a later start on the day except for Aemond, who still tried to piece together what you had said the night before. Borther? You had another brother? How did he not know? None had mentioned him before— he was absent from any other event— he was not even present in any of the portraits in the keep. How, then, could he be your brother!?

“Goo—Good morning, princess,” Aemond stuttered as you exited your chambers. His jealousy had simmered and instead turned into nerves as he did not know where the two of you stood after your conversation last night. “Good morning.” You replied curtly, walking past Ser Aemond, growing accustomed to the usual retaliation and routine of ignorance and silence whenever you and your knight would grow cross with one another. He followed you to the gardens, your usual lonesome place now housed your two brothers who waited for you. “There you are!” Your brother, whose name he was still yet to know, greeted. “I still cannot believe you did not tell us that you were coming! We could have prepared your room!” You greeted your brother as he assisted you to your chair. “Well, in truth, my coming was unplanned— I was only near the capitol as I had to buy supplies, and I thought I should come to the king’s celebration,” Your brother explained as he fought with you with the piece of pastry you were eyeing, smiling at his tease to acquire what you wanted but in the end, he only placed it onto your plate. 

“I actually have to leave— I had just waited for you to wake so I could bid you goodbye.” The smile on your lips quickly disappeared. “But you’ve only just arrived! And we have not seen you in so long— must you truly go already?” You asked, disappointed upon the revelation. “I’m afraid so; they are waiting for me in the Citadel… but I assure you, I shall come once again during winter— that is if your mother allows me to step foot on capitol grounds.” Aemond frowned upon your other brother’s wording— the prince letting out an amused chuckle as he popped a berry into his mouth. “Fine. But if you are not here by the holidays, I’ll have Father send out men to come fetch you, I swear.” You say as you narrow your eyes, and your brother only smiles. “I know, you’ve done it before.” 

Aemond followed as you and the prince bid goodbye to your brother by the gates. Aemond still wondered about what had happened— at how the man he thought was your suitor was your brother and how your brother was not acknowledged by the court. “Ser Aemond,” the prince nodded as he walked past your knight to attend his duties for the day. Aemond swallowed as he heard you sigh, the two of you now left alone and the tenseness in the air had never departed. You and Aemond were once again succumbed to the silence of indifference— one he hoped would be quick to be gone. It was nearing nightfall, the sky alight with the afterglow of the sun, and Aemond could no longer stomach the two of you not speaking. 

Your knight pursed his lips and let out a grieved breath, daring to take hold of your arm and pull you into an alcove of an empty hall. “What is it?” You asked coldly. “I…. I—“ Your knight could not articulate his words— confusion and remorse taking hold of his senses. You stood there for a moment as Ser Aemond could not make out his words, but the confusion in his eye told you all that you needed to know. “Do you recall when I told you when my mother and father did not marry for love?” You questioned, and Ser Aemond only nodded. “Father loved another… and from that love came our half-brother.” You explained the deepest secret your family had to your knight. “He was born a moon before my mother and father married— but his mother had died during his birth. Instead of disregarding his existence, Father placed him in the care of a distant cousin— and the court has been fed the lie that he is our cousin when, in truth, he was our brother.” 

“He is a bastard,” Aemond stated as he recalled all you had said. His words quickly made a frown slip to your face. “He, is my brother. No matter the state of legitimacy.” You said, and Aemond recoiled as he realized not all held the distaste for bastards as he did because not all had the same treatment he had from the bastards in his family. “I’m sorry, princess,” Aemond said in remorse, not even able to meet your gaze. You pursed your lips and rested your back upon the curved wall of the alcove as you assessed Ser Aemond. It should concern you that even though he had offended you, your heart still yearned for him. “I still do not understand you,” you say. “Whenever I think we are venturing towards a sense of normalcy— that we’re getting somewhat closer… you grow cold and distance yourself.” You hated this— you hated to sound as such before Ser Aemond because you knew, at its core, your relationship did not warrant any speck of closeness or anything that resembled intimacy. He was your knight, and you were simply his duty. 

Aemond licked his lips as he had no words to explain why he did such action— well, he did have the words, but he knew he could not utter it. “That is just how I am, princess,” he reasoned, but you sighed and crossed your arms across your chest, looking to your left and momentarily distracting yourself with the view of the afterglow. “I do not believe you.” You say quietly. “You do not have to,” Aemond answered. “So last night… your reaction was not brought forth by jealousy— what was it then?” You questioned, daring to utter the question even though you took the risk of hurting your pride once more. Aemond bit his tongue, having no way out of the conversation. He swallowed thickly, and before he could listen to reason and before his sensibilities could hinder him, he spoke the truth. “It was.” You frowned and wondered if you heard correctly. “Why?” You questioned in disbelief. 

Aemond turned to his right and stared out into the afterglow as well, knowing in himself there was no escape— he knew he must take the risk even if his station and pride would be on the line. “Because… because he took my place.” He said, not having the guts to offer half-truths or a made-up reason to defend his actions. “You had not even noticed my departure, for you were too consumed by his presence,” he mumbled, not able to hinder himself once more. “So you were jealous because you thought he was my suitor, and my attention was on him instead of you…” You trailed, your knight unmoving and providing no validation for your question. “Why would you be jealous?” In truth, you thought he had no care— that he was immune to such emotions, for your affections were certainly unrequited… wasn’t it?

You locked eyes with his unique lilac ones. The silence was palpitating but never uncomfortable. None uttered a word, but each moment you held your sworn protector’s gaze, you found your answer. You let out a shaky breath as you realized Ser Aemond’s gaze mirrored yours— that your emotions were one with his. And with such realizations, words were taken from you, and all you could do was close the damned gap between and take the risk. You stood on the tip of your toes and let your lips be met with your knight’s because you knew what you wanted, and what you wanted was him. Just him. 

[novaursa]

Dragonbane

- Summary: You go to Rook's Rest instead of Rhaenys and the rest is history.

- Pairing: male!cousin/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: The reader is a son of Daemon Targaryen and bonded with Vermithor.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for graphic descriptions of blood, gore and death)

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

The hall of the Painted Table is quiet, the air heavy with the weight of war and grief. You stand at its center. The carved map of Westeros gleams beneath your hands as you trace a finger over the land your house means to reclaim. Beside you, your wife, Rhaenyra, paces. Her hand twists the golden rings on her fingers, her face a storm of anger and worry.

“Send anyone else,” she says, her voice firm but tinged with desperation. “Anyone but you. My mother lost her life to childbirth, my father lost his life to his weakness, and now… you would have me lose my husband to a battle that isn’t even yours to fight.”

You meet her eyes, the violet flames within them threatening to consume you. “It is my battle,” you reply evenly. “It is ours. Every step they take against us, every insult, every drop of blood spilled — it is all ours to answer. Vermithor is the only dragon alive who can match Vhagar. This isn’t about bravery, Rhaenyra. It’s about strategy.”

She stops pacing, standing just a step away from you now. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides. “Strategy? Strategy would see you dead! Do you think Aemond will give you a clean fight? Do you think Sunfyre will hesitate to tear Vermithor apart, or that Vhagar’s rage can be controlled?”

You step closer, your hands reaching for hers. She doesn’t resist when you take them, though she stiffens beneath your touch. “Rhaenyra, my love,” you murmur, softening your voice. “Do you think I don’t understand your fear? Do you think I am eager for this? But Rhaenys cannot go. Meleys is fierce but no match for Vhagar and Sunfyre together. If we send her, we lose not only a dragon but the Queen Who Never Was. And what then? Our strength relies on the alliances we keep. If I do not go, who will?”

Her lips tremble, but she is too proud to let tears fall. “You would ask me to wait here, knowing you might not return?”

“I would,” you say, your own voice beginning to crack. “And I would ask you to trust me. Vermithor is not so easily defeated. Nor am I.”

A scoff interrupts the moment, and you turn to see Daemon standing by the edge of the Painted Table, his arms crossed. His smirk is sharp and cutting, though his eyes are shadowed by something deeper. “You’ve got fire in you, boy,” he says, nodding in approval. “But fire can burn too bright. Listen to your wife. There’s wisdom in what she says.”

You glare at him. “And would you go in my place, father? Or shall we send our cousins to fight their battles for them?”

Daemon’s smirk fades, replaced by a flash of anger. “Watch your tongue. I’ve fought my wars. This isn’t about me.”

“No,” you reply, stepping away from Rhaenyra. “It isn’t. It’s about what we stand to lose if no one dares to take the risk.”

Rhaenyra’s voice rises, cutting through the tension. “This is not a risk worth taking! You are my husband, the father of our children, the heir to your father’s legacy. I will not be left alone to face the Hightowers without you.”

You look at her, your resolve beginning to waver under her fierce gaze. “And what if I were to refuse? What if I stood by while another died in my place? What kind of man would you have me be, Rhaenyra?”

She doesn’t answer, her chest rising and falling with the force of her emotions. Finally, she shakes her head. “I would have you alive. That is all I ask.”

You step closer to her again, cupping her cheek in your hand. “I will come back to you,” you whisper. “I swear it.”

She closes her eyes, leaning into your touch for a brief moment before pulling away. “If you don’t,” she says, her voice breaking, “I will burn the world for you.”

The room falls silent, the only sound the crackling of the torches. Daemon’s gaze shifts between the two of you, but he says nothing.

Finally, you step back, your decision made. “Prepare Vermithor,” you say, your voice steady. “We leave at first light.”

Rhaenyra doesn’t try to stop you again. She turns and leaves the hall without another word, the weight of her silence heavier than any argument could have been. You watch her go, feeling the ache of what you might lose settle deep in your chest.

Daemon approaches, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve got guts,” he says quietly. “And gods willing, they won’t be spilled on the battlefield. Fly fast, strike hard, and don’t let them see your fear.”

You nod, your jaw tightening. “Fear has no place on dragonback.”

As you walk toward the doors, toward Vermithor and the battle to come, you feel the weight of your family’s legacy on your shoulders. The fear you won’t show burns in your veins, but so does the fire of the dragon you ride.

The wind roars around you as you soar high above the skies of Rook’s Rest. The faint shimmer of dawn outlines the horizon, casting a pale light over the smoke-streaked battlefield below. Screams and the clang of steel rise from the earth, but your focus is not on the chaos beneath. It is on the two monstrous shapes in the distance, silhouetted against the blood-red sky: Vhagar and Sunfyre.

Vermithor growls beneath you, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through your saddle and bones. You tighten your grip on the reins, your other hand holding firm to your sword. “Steady,” you murmur. “They will come to us soon enough.”

And they do.

Sunfyre is the first to dive, his golden scales gleaming like molten fire in the light. His roar splits the sky, the sound sharp and youthful compared to Vermithor’s guttural response. You see Aegon, clad in his golden armor, urging his dragon forward, his lance raised high.

“Come on, you craven bastard!” you shout, leaning low over Vermithor’s neck. The Bronze Fury beneath you answers with a sudden surge of speed, his wings cutting through the air like knives. You feel the force of the wind nearly pull you from the saddle, but you hold firm, the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The collision is violent. Sunfyre dives toward Vermithor, claws outstretched, but your dragon is older, wiser, and stronger. He twists at the last moment, slamming his massive tail into Sunfyre’s side. Aegon jerks in his saddle, clutching at his reins as Sunfyre shrieks in pain. Blood sprays through the air, bright and vivid, as Vermithor’s claws rake across Sunfyre’s golden scales.

"Is this the mighty king of Westeros?" you bellow, your voice carried by the wind. "Hiding behind a boy's dragon?"

Aegon’s response is drowned out by Sunfyre’s pained roars. Vermithor doesn’t relent. With a furious snarl, he lunges forward, sinking his teeth into Sunfyre’s neck. The golden dragon thrashes wildly, his tail lashing out and striking Vermithor’s side, but it’s not enough.

"Break him!" you command, gripping the reins tightly. Vermithor obeys with a brutal snap of his jaws. The sound of bone cracking echoes through the skies as Sunfyre’s neck is wrenched unnaturally to the side. Blood pours from the wound, a torrent of crimson that stains the golden dragon’s once-majestic scales. Sunfyre’s struggles weaken, his roars fading into gurgles, and then he falls, his body tumbling through the air like a broken doll.

Aegon screams, clutching desperately to his saddle as his dragon plummets. You don’t watch him hit the ground. Your attention is already shifting to the second threat.

Vhagar.

The ancient beast’s shadow falls over you like a stormcloud. Her roar is deafening, a sound that shakes the very heavens. Aemond sits astride her, his sapphire eye gleaming with malice as he points his blade at you.

“Did you think this would be easy?” Aemond calls, his voice cold and sharp. “You’ll find no victory here, cousin.”

“Come and claim it, then!” you shout back, spurring Vermithor forward. The two dragons close the distance in seconds, the clash of their bodies like thunder. Vermithor’s claws rake against Vhagar’s armored hide, tearing at the thick scales, while Vhagar snaps at Vermithor’s wings, her fangs narrowly missing the fragile membranes.

Aemond leans low, slashing out with his blade as you duck beneath the swing. “You’ll die screaming, like the traitor you are!” he snarls.

“You first!” you reply, swinging your own sword. The clang of steel on steel is lost in the chaos as the dragons spiral through the sky, locked in a deadly dance. Vhagar is larger, her sheer size giving her an advantage, but Vermithor is ferocious and unyielding, his age and experience matching her ferocity.

The sky becomes a blur of wings, claws, and blood. Vhagar’s tail slams into Vermithor’s side, sending you lurching in your saddle. You clutch at the reins, your heart pounding as you struggle to regain control. Vermithor roars in defiance, his jaws snapping at Vhagar’s throat. He manages to latch on, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh beneath her scales. Blood sprays, hot and sticky, coating you and your saddle.

Aemond yanks at Vhagar’s reins, pulling her away with a furious roar. “Kill him! Burn him to ash!” he commands. Vhagar rears back, her chest swelling as she prepares to unleash her flames.

“Dracarys!” you shout, and Vermithor answers. The two torrents of fire collide, the heat so intense it scorches the air around you. The force of the blast throws both dragons apart, their wings flailing as they struggle to stay aloft. You cling to the saddle, your vision blurred by smoke and ash.

And then it happens.

The two dragons charge at each other once more, their momentum unstoppable. They collide with such force that you feel the impact in your bones. Claws tear into flesh, teeth rip through scales, and blood rains from the sky in a crimson torrent. The screams of the dragons are deafening, a symphony of pain and fury.

You and Aemond are both thrown from your saddles as the dragons lock together, their massive bodies spiraling toward the ground. You hit the earth hard, the impact driving the air from your lungs. Pain radiates through your body, but you force yourself to your feet, your sword still clutched in your hand.

In the distance, Vermithor and Vhagar crash into the battlefield, their bodies a tangle of wings and limbs. Dust and debris rise around them, obscuring the scene. You stagger forward, determined to finish what you started.

Aemond emerges from the haze, his face twisted with rage. His sword gleams in the faint light, its edge coated in blood. “This ends here,” he growls, stalking toward you.

You raise your own blade, your grip steady despite the pain coursing through your body. “It does,” you reply, meeting his gaze. “But not the way you think.”

The two of you charge at each other, the clash of steel echoing through the battlefield as the dragons continue their brutal struggle behind you.

The clash of steel rings in your ears as you swing your blade at Aemond, his movements as sharp and calculated as your own. You’re both bloodied, sweat and grime mingling with the smears of red that coat your faces. The battlefield beneath your feet is slick with the lifeblood of men and dragons alike, a fitting stage for this deadly dance.

“You think you can kill me?” Aemond snarls, parrying your strike and stepping in close. His sapphire eye gleams with manic hatred. “I am a warrior, not a lord who hides behind his wife’s skirts. You are nothing but her puppet!”

The words sting, but they don’t shake your focus. “Better a puppet than a madman blinded by ambition,” you retort, sidestepping his thrust and slashing at his shoulder. Your blade connects, tearing through the leather and biting into flesh. Aemond grunts, staggering back, but his fury doesn’t waver.

Behind you, the guttural roars of Vermithor and Vhagar shake the earth. You spare a glance over your shoulder and see the two massive dragons locked in a death grip, their claws raking through each other’s flesh. Blood pours from gaping wounds in Vhagar’s side, painting her ancient scales a deeper shade of red. Vermithor, battered and bleeding, snaps his jaws around her throat, shaking her like a rabid beast. She thrashes, her wings beating wildly, but Vermithor doesn’t relent.

Aemond seizes the opportunity, lunging at you with a scream of rage. His blade slices through the air, catching your side. The pain is immediate, sharp and burning, and you cry out as blood seeps through your tunic. The wound slows you, but not enough to stop your counterattack. You raise your sword and swing upward, aiming for his head. He ducks, but your blade grazes his cheek, splitting the skin and sending a spray of blood across the ground.

“You’ll pay for that!” he roars, his voice unhinged. He charges again, driving you back with a flurry of brutal strikes. Each clash of your swords sends jolts of pain through your body, your wounded side weakening your defense. Aemond’s strength is relentless, and for a moment, it feels as though he might overpower you.

But you are not done yet.

With a desperate surge of energy, you twist your body, dodging his next strike and slamming the hilt of your sword into his ribs. He gasps, staggering, and you use the moment to close the gap. Raising your blade, you aim for his face.

He tries to block, but you’re faster. Your sword pierces his healthy eye, the blade sinking deep into the socket. His scream is inhuman, a sound of pure agony that echoes across the battlefield. Blood gushes from the wound, thick and dark, pouring down his face as he drops his sword and clutches at his ruined eye.

“You wanted to see the world burn,” you hiss through gritted teeth, twisting the blade. “Now you’ll see nothing at all.”

With a final thrust, you drive the sword deeper, the blade slicing into his brain. His body convulses violently, and then he falls to his knees, blood pouring from his eye and mouth. You wrench your blade free, and he collapses face-first into the dirt, his once-proud figure reduced to a lifeless husk.

The sound of Vhagar’s dying roar pulls your attention. You turn just in time to see Vermithor deliver the killing blow. His massive jaws clamp around her belly, tearing through scales and flesh to rip out her liver and entrails. The viscera spill onto the ground in a steaming, grotesque heap, the stench of blood and bile overwhelming. Vhagar’s massive body trembles, her wings twitching as she lets out a final, shuddering breath. Her eyes glaze over, and she slumps to the ground, defeated.

Vermithor stands over her, his bronze hide drenched in blood, his chest heaving with exertion. He lets out a victorious roar, a sound that shakes the heavens, before collapsing onto his haunches, his body trembling from his wounds.

You stagger forward, your own body screaming in protest. Blood drips from your side, your vision swimming as you take in the scene around you. The battlefield is chaos, but the tide has turned. The Hightower forces are in full retreat, their banners disappearing into the distance. Among them, you catch sight of Criston Cole, his armor smeared with blood as he flees with his men. The sight fills you with grim satisfaction.

But the victory feels hollow. The cost has been too high. It always is.

Your gaze shifts back to Vermithor, who watches you with weary, golden eyes. You place a trembling hand on his side, feeling the heat of his body and the steady rise and fall of his breath. “Rest, old friend,” you murmur, your voice hoarse. “You’ve earned it.”

Your thoughts drift to Rhaenyra, her face sharp and vivid in your mind’s eye. You promised her you would return, and you intend to keep that promise. Even now, as your body screams for rest and your wounds threaten to pull you under, you force yourself to move. Each step is agony, but you keep going, driven by the thought of her waiting for you.

You will return to her. You must.

And when you do, the war will not be over, but you will face it together.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 10

Word Count- 7.2k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, violence, death, Damon’s ass/Damon BEING an ass, shitty Google translate, spelling mistakes(I'm wayyy too tired to edit this rn)

A/N- some of this is not canon just because I love a character too much and she deserved better in the show. 

“Are you just going to keep sulking in here,” I ask from my position in Damon’s doorway.

Damon answers me back with a loud groan mixed with what I believe to be a growl, “Tell me again why you’re here. And why I haven’t killed you yet?”

If I had just met Damon I would be scared of what he just asked me, but after these past weeks of knowing him, I’ve realized most of his threats are half-assed. So I just shrug and walk into his room.

“My mother and brother are away for the week visiting family, leaving me home alone. And, well, I don’t feel like having “he who shall not be named,” come and kill me in my sleep. And you haven’t killed me because you don’t want to. I’ve called you many bad names to your face, and yet I stand here, unharmed."

“Here you stand annoying the hell out of me. Again.”

I roll my eyes and sit on the edge of Damon’s bed. Damon still hasn’t moved from his position under the covers. 

“Damon,” I turn over my shoulder to look at him and he lets out yet another groan to acknowledge he’s listening, “I’m going to be honest with you.”

“Nothing new there,” I hear him say under his breath sarcastically.

“You’re kind of embarrassing to watch right now,” I turn to see him fully glaring at me now, “You’re how old? Like five thousand years or something like that? It’s time you grew up.”

“Says the high schooler.”

“Says the man in love with a high schooler,” I bite back which has him shutting up momentarily.

“You don't know anything,” He says as he finally sits up in his bed. His white sheet falling down, revealing his naked chest. I quickly avert my eyes, not because I’m attracted to him but because seeing Damon half-naked would be like seeing my annoying ass distant cousin naked. No, thank you. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Demon-spawn,” I point an accusing finger at him resulting in him glaring at me some more. 

“I know you have feelings for Elena, everyone and their bloody mothers knows. And as much as I like Stefan, I also don’t think it should be something you need to feel bad for,” I think momentarily and tap my chin in thought, “Well, okay. Maybe a little bad because she’s 17 and you’re like 1,000 and she’s also your little brother’s girlfriend,” I catch Damon’s deadly look and stop rambling, “Moving along…What I’m trying to say is that we can’t control who we catch feelings for. And honestly, Elena’s pretty and nice as hell so I don’t blame you there. But what we can control is how we choose to express those feelings.”

Damon just stares blankly at me and I feel like I’d be better off giving a toddler this speech. 

“What you’re doing right now, sulking and getting mad at everyone around you for something that is out of our control isn’t helping anyone. It’s only making things worse. Elena’s my best friend and I know she’s scared out of her mind right now but doesn’t want to say it because it'll cause more stress for the people she loves. What she needs right now is all of us. After tonight is over and Elijah’s elixir brings her back then you can go back to your hissy fits but right now,” I stand up and face him, planting my hands on my hips in a power pose, “You need to get your ass out of bed and get a fucking grip.”

Damon and I hold each other’s glares for a straight minute before he huffs, throws his blanket off of him, and gets out of bed. I have to fight a smirk as I get overly proud of my pep talk. 

“I’m really starting to miss when it was just puke coming out of that mouth of yours,” Damon growls as he walks to the bathroom and pulls down his boxers without a second thought. My eyes fly out of my head as I get a full look at Damon’s white ass. I quickly turn around and gag.

“Dude! Seriously, warn a girl!”

---

“I don’t remember you being so…talky,” Damon’s voice yells from over the water of his shower.

I frown as I think about his comment and sit back down on the edge of his bed facing the front door and not the bathroom. Not wanting to get a face full of his behind again, or worse…ugh.

“I…don’t think I’ve ever been talky. There has never been a reason for me to be,” I say back to him not really caring if he hears or not.

A moment later I hear the shower water stop and his footsteps padding around behind me. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” Damon says from next to me and I slowly turn hoping he’s at least half decent. 

Thankfully, he has covered his behind with jeans and is currently slipping a shirt over his chest.

I think about his question and then shrug my shoulders, “I’ve never really had friends to talk to, and whenever I had tried talking to people they just hadn’t cared. So I never really saw the point in talking.”

Damon stops fixing the buttons on his shirt momentarily to look at me. His eyebrows are drawn together and the look in his eyes isn’t one I think I’ve seen from him before. Something about it almost seems kind of…human. But within another second it’s gone and his lip upturns into a smirk.

“People are a waste of time anyway. The only good thing about them…,” He takes a step closer to me and leans down so he’s in my face, “Is there blood.”

I huff as I stand up and push past him heading towards the door, “And here I thought I could actually have a half-decent conversation with you. My mistake.”

I start walking through the halls toward the living room where Elena, Stefan, and Elijah are. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Damon catch up to me so we’re walking side by side.

“You’re kind of annoying,” He says and I have to fight the urge to not punch him.

“Gee, thanks,” I go to walk faster but he catches up to me again.

“What I mean is…,” He pauses for a moment trying to find his words, “You may be annoying but that doesn’t mean what you have to say is pointless or something that shouldn’t be heard. Screw anyone who tells you otherwise…or just kill them.”

I look at him with a confused look matching the confused feelings I now have, “Thank you? I think.”

“Don’t mention it,” He leans down and glares at me, “Seriously, I will kill you if you tell anyone what I just said.”

I suck on my teeth and then nod my head, “And there’s the Demon we all know and loathe.”

“Right, back at you, Pukey.”

I watch as Damon’s eyebrows furrow as we get closer to the living room and as we enter he speaks up, “Then why are we letting him break the curse?”

I follow Damon into the living room and see Elena and Stefan sitting together on a sofa and Elijah standing before them. Elijah’s eyes lock onto mine and I acknowledge him by sending him a small smile which he just returns with a nod. Okay, Rude.

“We can kill him today. With Bonnie,” Damon says and I realize we’re talking about him. At the mention of him, I begin to clench my fists as a surge of anger rises through me but stop myself since I don’t feel like accidentally cutting myself in a room of vampires. I take my seat on a loveseat next to Elena, who sends me a warm smile before turning towards Damon.

“No. Bonnie can’t use that much power without dying.”

“I’ll write her a great eulogy,” Damon’s words have me turning in my seat and glaring at him. So much for my speech getting to him.

“It’s not an option Damon,” You tell him, Elena. 

Stefan sighs, “Alright, how do we break this curse?”

“Well, the ritual itself is relatively straightforward. The ingredients, so to speak you already know,” Elijah answers.

“The moonstone,” Stefan says.

“A witch will channel the power of the full moon to release the spell that’s bound within the stone. After that Klaus, being both a werewolf and a vampire, will sacrifice one of each.”

“And where do I fit into it,” Elena asks him.

“The final part of the ritual. Klaus must drink the blood of the doppelganger…to the point of your death.”

Elijah’s words have both Stefan and I taking deep breaths.

“And that’s where you come in.”

Elijah goes to the shelf behind him and opens a little wooden box, “This is an elixir that I acquired some 500 years ago for Katerina. It possesses the mystical properties of resuscitation.”

“So I’ll be dead..”

“And then you won’t.”

Damon the grouch speaks up, “That’s your plan? A magical witch potion with no expiration date,” He turns to Elena, “You want to come back to life, what…What about John’s ring?”

“Those rings only work on humans. The doppelganger is a supernatural occurrence. Odds are…the ring won’t work.”

“I’ll take those odds over your elixir. What if it doesn’t work Elena?”

“Then I guess I’ll just be dead.”

Damon shoots his brother a look, but knowing Stefan, he’ll go with whatever Elena wants. Even if he doesn’t agree. Damon realizes this too before shooting another glare at the group before leaving the living room back to where we originally came from.

“Do we know if Klaus has everything he needs to do this? Does he have a werewolf?”

“Klaus has been waiting over a thousand years to break this curse. If he doesn’t already have a werewolf my guess is by tonight, he will.”

—

I watch from my position on the couch as Stefan follows his brother outside. That’s going to be a fun conversation. 

Elena approaches Elijah, “You’d think he’d understand why I’m willing to do this.”

“Why are you?”

“I’m the key to breaking the curse. Klaus is here because of me. If I don’t stop him, then he’s gonna hurt people. It’s that simple.”

I frown sadly to myself and fight back the watering that has started in my eyes. This isn’t fair. None of this is. 

“You know, there’s a possibility this elixir won’t work. I don't want to mislead you.”

“I know the chance I’m taking.”

The tense atmosphere is broken by a door slamming shut and a woman yelling from the foyer. 

“Jenna, Jenna!”

“Get out!”

I quickly rise from my seat and go to follow behind Elena to check on Jenna, but a hand grabs my own, pulling me back. 

“Wait here,” Elijah’s stern voice says to me as he drops my hand and follows behind Elena.  I watch his retreating figure and shake my head. Who tf does this guy think he’s talking to?

I run towards the foyer and freeze when I see Ric standing there. Or Klaus, I guess. My breathing gets faster and I’m debating on whether to swing on him or pass out.

“Jenna, put the cross-bow down, okay? It’s me.”

Stefan joins us and Elijah comes to stand in front of me, not before shooting me a disapproving look.

“What’s going on,” Elena asks the two adults.

“It’s me, Elena, I swear, okay? He let me go. Klaus let me go,” I frown at Ric’s words and look to Elijah to see if he can tell if Ric is telling the truth or not but his face is completely still. 

“Prove it,” Damon who has now joined says.

“Okay, uh, the first night you and I spent together Jeremy walked in right when-”

“Ok! It’s him,” Jenna exclaims as she drops her weapon. Ew. Everyone in the room throws glances at each other before turning back towards Ric. 

“Why did he let you go,” Stefan asks.

“He wanted me to deliver a message. The sacrifice happens tonight.”

—-

“Katherine was there,” Ric says from his position on the couch. We all moved back into the living room to keep discussing our plans for tonight. 

“She’s under compulsion. Damon snuck her vervain but she can't leave until Klaus tells her she can.”

“Where is Damon,” Elena questions, and I get a bit unnerved. Not knowing where Damon is is not an ideal situation. 

“I saw him go upstairs,” Jenna says. 

Elena stands up and goes towards his room and I go to follow her but Elijah grabs my upper arm, “I need to speak with you,” I begin to argue back as he pulls me into the next room.

“Dude let go of me,” I hiss at him and he drops my arm and stares blankly at me.

“Do not dude me, Elskan,” Elijah says with that stupid monotone voice of his that makes me want to wrap my hands around his throat.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do Elijah,” I whisper yell to him so the others don’t overhear us, “And stop with that stupid nickname.”

Elijah narrows his eyes at me, “You are making it incredibly hard for me to protect you.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” I roll my eyes sarcastically, “I didn’t realize you actually cared, since you’ve been acting like you don't.”

Elijah’s narrowed eyes morph into ones of confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Seriously! One second you’re making all these promises to protect me and being all nice and stuff and then the next moment you won’t even acknowledge my existence.”

“It would be impossible for me to not acknowledge your existence, Y/n. There is not a single moment where I am not searching for you. This situation,” He gestures between us, “Is not something I take lightly. And keeping you safe is now my most important mission in this life. So I apologize if I have hurt your feelings whilst doing that.”

I’m frozen as I listen to Elijah and he takes a single step towards me. He reaches his hand up and brushes a stray hair behind my ear. 

“You have no idea how long I have waited for you,” His words have me frowning in confusion as he brushes his finger across my cheek, “But, I fear that if I let myself get too close then it will only put you in more danger and I would rather dagger myself before ever letting that happen.”

My chest and my brain don't seem to be working properly as I just stare wide-eyed at the man in front of me. I try to think of something, anything really to say but I can’t seem to get my mouth to form a sentence. 

A loud bang comes from upstairs and Elijah gives me one more look before exiting. I feel like I’m on autopilot as I walk towards the noise, catching sight of Ric and Jenna running towards it as well. I make my way up to Damon’s room and gasp as I see Stefan with a very big piece of wood through his stomach. Ric tries to grab Damon but the ladder pushes him off him before walking out of the room.

“Okay, Jenna, downstairs in the basement are some blood bags,” Ric tells Jenna who is standing in front of me, “Go get them, now. Go!”

Jenna leaves as Elena rips the wood out of Stefan. I walk over and kneel next to them as Elena holds and tries to comfort her hurt boyfriend.

“I’m so sorry,” Stefan groans out.

I frown, confused, “Why is he sorry? He’s the one who got stabbed?”

I’m ignored for a moment as Elena shushes Stefan until he passes out and with tearful eyes, she looks over to me, “Damon he…he fed me his blood. Y/n, I don’t want to be a vampire”

'My chest practically caves in on itself as I hear my friend's small sobs and shake my head in denial, “No…no. There has to be another way. There has to be Elena,” I stand up and look at her once more, “You’re not going to be a vampire.”

—

I storm through the halls and down the stairs until I see Damon in the living room pouring himself a glass of whatever alcohol he has on hand. That anger from before rises at the idea of what he just did.

“You selfish bastard,” I storm over to him and I see Elijah try to stop me from the corner of my eye, only to receive my hand in his face. And as Damon turns around to look at me he receives my fist in his face. 

Damon hisses as my fist flies across his cheekbone and I fight back tears at the pain in my knuckles. I’ve never thrown a punch before but I didn’t realize it would hurt this much. Jesus.

Damon looks back at me as if my punch did nothing to him, which it probably didn’t and I expect him to charge at me, and I’m assuming Elijah does as well because he moves next to me. But all Damon does is stare at me, raise his glass to his lips, downs it, and then exits the living room. 

“You’ve never thrown a punch before have you,” Elijah’s voice has me turning my gaze over to him.

I look at him sheepishly, “Is it that obvious?”

Elijah stares at me and from his face I think he's trying to debate whether to be amused by me or scold me, “A bit, but I applaud you for the effort,” Elijah’s eyes dart towards my hurting hand and he picks it up with his own and inspects it. 

“You’ll have some bruising but thankfully there appears to be no breakage.”

I let out a pained hiss as one of his fingers brushed against my middle knuckle. He instantly stops and looks at me.

“I can heal you if you’d like,” He asks me and I remember back to when he healed me the first time. It feels like another lifetime ago. 

“I’ll be fine,” I dismiss him and he nods but doesn’t drop my hand. He does reach his other hand up and uses his thumb to wipe a stray tear off my cheek. 

“I’m sorry about Elena,” I quickly remember why I punched Damon in the first place and go to question about the elixir but he shakes his head as if he already knows what I’m thinking, “It won’t work any longer. Damon made sure of that when he fed her his blood. When Elena dies she’ll wake up as a vampire."

I shake my head in denial and feel the tears reach my eyes again, “No... Elijah. There has to be another way! Please tell me there’s another way.”

Elijah’s features form to one of sorrow as if he can feel the pain I’m in, “I’m sorry, Elskan. I truly am.”

I shake my head and bite down hard on my lip to try to stop my tears. Elijah reaches up his hand though and frees my bottom lip from my teeth with his thumb. 

“Come here,” Elijah says as he pulls me into him and wraps his arms around my body. The smell of something masculine, almost smoky, surrounds me as he rests his chin on my head. After everything that has happened, if I were to die like this in his embrace, I don’t think I would regret it. 

—

I wipe the remnants of my smeared mascara as I look at myself in my car mirror. After Elijah left the Salvatore’s saying he had some loose ends to clean up before tonight and to not get myself into any more trouble, I went to check on Elena. 

She hugged me for about ten minutes straight and I just rubbed her back as she cried into my shoulder. And I may or may not have cried along with her, feeling heartbroken for my friend. 

Elena and Stefan then left together to go spend her last day as a human together, which is as bittersweet as it is heartbreaking. And after bidding Jenna and Ric a goodbye I found myself driving to the Mystic Grill. That’s why I am now sitting in it’s parking lot trying to collect myself and trying to keep myself busy for what is to happen tonight. 

I open my car door and hold my bruised hand tentatively as I push through the front door to the Grill. I had seen a “Help Wanted,” sign here the other day and if I hopefully survive the night I’ll need a job for the summer. Not being a trust fund baby really sucks ass sometimes. 

Matt Donovan sends me a warm smile as I walk past him. I'd never really talked to the guy other than the few times in class where he’d ask to borrow a pencil or if I could help him with some math equation, but he always seemed sweet. Unlike the stupid jock stereotype, I’ve gotten used to seeing in this town. After being told by Elena what happened to his sister and that now he lives by himself as a 17-year-old because his mom’s a deadbeat, I feel bad for the guy. 

I let out a low groan as I stop my walk towards the bar which is currently occupied by the demon overlord himself. I debate to myself if I should just turn around, but a hand on my shoulder shocks me.

Ric stands there with his hands raised up in apology, “My bad Y/N. Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing.”

I look at Ric and sigh, “I’m just glad you’re you again.”

Ric nods his head in agreement, “Ya, me too. I didn’t hurt you while I was Klaus right?”

I shake my head, “No Ric, and even if you did it wouldn’t have been your fault. You had no control over yourself.”

Ric sends me a warm smile and nods, “I feel kind of violated, to be honest.”

I snort at his joke, “I don’t blame you.”

“I need a drink,” Ric says as he walks with me up towards the bar and my knuckles start to burn as I stare at the hair on the back of Demon’s head.

“I’ll have the same as him,” Ric says to the waiter as he sits on Damon’s right and I sit down on his left. The waiter then looks at me for my drink order, “A Shirley Temple, please. And a job application?”

The waiter, a half-decent-looking man, smirks as he pulls out a pad of papers from behind the bar and hands them to me before going back to making drinks.

“Job searching, Pukey,” Damon asks from beside me and I stare forward not looking at him.

“Ric,” I call to him and he turns to look at me, “If Damon’s here who do you think is guarding the gates of hell?”

Rics snorts out a deep laugh and I can see Damon scowling from beside me. The waiter comes back and gives Ric his bourbon and me my Shirley Temple. I accidentally grab it with my injured hand and try to cover the hiss I let out, with a cough.

“How’s your hand,” Damon asks from next to me. I’m surprised that his voice doesn’t sound completely sarcastic.

I turn and glare at him, “How’s your face?”

Damon sends me a smirk and gestures to his unmarked face, “Perfect.”

I roll my eyes and take a sip of my Shirley Temple ignoring whatever the two men next to me are talking about. That is until a voice that has my heart doing a fucking backflip in my chest calls from behind us. 

“Gentlemen? Why so glum,” A deep British voice asks and I could’ve sworn goosebumps went up my arms at the sound. What the fuck? 

All three of us turn to match the voice to the face and…Holy shit.

A tall dark-blond man stands about a foot length from me. At this distance, I can see the different shades of blue in his eyes and the small freckles that decorate his perfect nose. 

I hear Damon groan from behind me and I’m not sure why as I’m too busy ogling the pretty man before me. 

“Klaus, I presume.”

I blink. And then I blink again. And then once more as I’m frozen staring at Klaus. The Shirley Temple in my hands starts to shake as I can’t take my eyes off the man. 

“In the flesh. Thanks for the loner, mate,” Klaus smirks at Ric and if I wasn’t in total shock right now I’d defend him. But the man I’ve thought of killing for the past week is standing right in front of me and I was counting how many fucking freckles I could see on his goddamned nose. There’s thirteen.

 Shut tf up Y/n?!

Klaus hasn’t looked my way once and although I should be glad about that a part of my lower stomach drops at the fact.

Damon stands from his seat and goes to face the man, “Any reason you stopped by to say hi?”

“I’m told you and your brother fancy my doppelganger. Just thought I’d remind you not to do anything you’ll regret,” Klaus’ warning doesn’t seem to sway Damon as the ladder lets out a laugh.

“Thanks for the advice. I don’t supposed I could talk you into a postponement by any chance, huh?”

Klaus lets out a chuckle and I swear my heart just skipped a beat. What the fuck Y/n?!?!??

“You are kidding,” Klaus asks and then turns to Ric, “He is kidding, right?”

“No, not really.”

“I mean, come on, what’s one month in the whole grand scheme of things,” Damon asks and I realize that he’s doing this because he doesn’t want Elena to die with vampire blood in her system. 

“Ya, I mean one month is like,” I pretend to count on my fingers, “Like thirty days. I don’t see why you can’t wait that long. You’ve already waited over a thousand years, what’s thirty days?”

I ask the man and this finally has Klaus acknowledging my presence. But honestly, from the way he’s looking at me, I wish I would’ve kept quiet. His eyebrows are drawn together and his lips curve upwards into what I hope isn’t a snarl. Damon must’ve noticed the look too because he moves in front of me blocking me from Klaus’ vision and him from mine. 

“Let me be clear,” I hear Klaus’ deep voice say, “I have my vampire, I have my werewolf. I have everything I need. The ritual will happen tonight. So if you want to live to see tomorrow don’t screw it up.”

I catch sight of Klaus’ back as he strolls away.

“Would I be a bad person to say I kind of hope his werewolf was the Jules’ chick,” I see Ric shoot me an “Are you serious” look and I shrug, “Hey, she was the one who tortured me. I still got the little knife scare on my leg to prove it.”

Damon doesn’t say anything as he sits back down and sighs. 

“You’re gonna screw it up, aren’t you?”

“You think if I took his werewolf out of the equation she might…get over the fact that I tried to turn her into a vampire?”

“Nope,” I say popping the p.

“I think it won’t matter, because you’ll be dead.”

“But without the werewolf he can’t preform the ritual tonight which means I would have bought her one month before the next full moon.”

Ric shakes his head, “But you’ll still be dead.”

Damon leans into him, “Are you gonna help me or what?”

Ric looks at him for a moment, “What do you want me to do?”

I slurp up the rest of my drink, throw a five onto the counter,  and jump up as the two men next to me watch me wearily.

“Alright gentlemen, dream team time!”

Ric raises an eyebrow while Damon shoots me a look of disgust, “I don’t know what the hell that was, but you’re not coming along.”

I frown as I grab my application and follow behind the two men, “Why the hell not? I want to help.”

Damon whips around to me, “Look kid, not happening. There’s already too much shit going down and I can’t be babysitting you, making sure you don’t get killed on my watch. So go back home and we’ll see you tonight. Capiche?”

Damon turns back around and walks to his car. Ric sends me one last smile and a shrug of his shoulders before following behind. I watch the two men drive off and I sigh as I stand in the middle of the parking lot. Anger and sadness building in me, when I realize just how useless I truly am.

—

I try to give Elijah a smile as he opens the SUV door for me. But with the mood I’m in I think the smile comes out more like a frown than anything else. Elijah must notice this too as he reaches his hand out for me to take. I debate it for a moment, 1. Not being a big fan of PDA, and 2. Stefan and Ric are with us and I don’t want them to be angry with me. But then I remember that my best friend is going to die tonight so a little PDA isn’t that huge in the grand scheme of things. 

Elijah seems elated as I place my hand in his and he guides Stefan and I through the woods toward the creepy ass witch house where Bonnie, Jeremy, and Ric are. 

“The sacrifice is completed in stages as the full moon sets,” Elijah explains to us. I feel his hand squeeze mine in comfort and I squeeze his back, “First the werewolf is killed, then the vampire’ and finally the doppelganger. Once Elena dies, the curse will be broken. Klaus will become a hybrid.”

Stefan comes to walk next to us. His eyes go down to Elijah and I’s intertwined hands briefly before looking back up to me. When I send him a weary smile, he sends me a small one in return calming down my nerves.

“So when do we attack,” Ric asks from behind us.

“Elena’s death will activate his dormant werewolf side. He’ll be vulnerable during the transformation. That’s when Bonnie comes in.”

“And you’re sure Bonnie will survive this,” Stefan asks and I’m thankful at least one of the Salvatore brothers has a heart.

“If she can deliver him to the brink of death I’ll finish the job myself.”

Stefan and Ric nod.

“Could I talk to Elijah for a moment,” I ask the two men who share a look before nodding and moving towards the house. 

Elijah turns towards me, “What is wrong, Elskan?”

“Are you going to be able to do it?”

Elijah frowns and shakes his head, “What do you mean?”

“Elijah you’re going to be killing your brother. I know siblings are a pain in the ass,” I think back to Theo and thank whatever higher being is out there that he left town this week, “but even when you hate them…you still love them. I’m not judging you for what you have to do. I’m just asking, are you ready for what you’re about to do?”

Elijah’s face is solemn as he processes what I asked, “Klaus wasn’t my only sibling,” I frown as he continues, “There once was a time when we were all together. But Klaus ruined that when he dumped their bodies in the middle of the Pacific.”

I let out a strangled gasp at Elijah’s confession. His pain evident on his face. 

“Elijah…I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Elijah steps forward and holds the side of my face with his free hand, “You’re so good. So…pure. I didn’t want to strangle out the light you have inside you with my demons.” 

“Elijah, you’re not the only one with skeletons in their closet. Trust me. But I want you to be honest with me. I need you to be. If this,” I gesture between us, “whatever this is. Is going to work. I’d never judge you. I know sometimes I can be a lot but that doesn’t mean I don’t anything but happiness for you. I don’t know what this means but you make me feel something I’d never felt with another human being.”

Elijah stares at me and something in his eyes tugs at my chest, “What is that?”

“Safe. You make me feel safe, Elijah. And I know I’m not some supernatural immortal and I can’t throw a punch to save my life. But, I want to make you feel that way too. However, I can.”

I start to get embarrassed as Elijah stares at me silently and I really wish I would’ve just kept my mouth closed.

“ᛁ ᚹᚨᛚᛚ ᛚᛟᚡᛖ ᛇᚢ ᚢᚾᛏᛁᛚ ᚦᛖ ᛋᚢᚾ ᛖᛗᛈᛚᛟᛞᛖᛋ, ᚦᛖ ᛟᚲᛖᚨᚾᛋ ᛞᚱᛁ ᚢᛈ, ᚺᚢᛗᚨᚾ ᛚᛁᚠᛖ ᚺᚨᛋ ᛚᛟᚾᚷ ᛋᛖᚾᚲᛖ ᚷᛟᚾᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᚾᛟᛏᚺᛁᚾᚷ ᛒᚢᛏ ᛗᚣ ᛋᛟᚢᛚ. ᛒᚢᛏ ᛖᚡᛖᚾ ᛏᚺᛖᚾ ᛁ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛋᛏᛁᛚᛚ ᛒᛖᛚᛟᚾᚷ ᛏᛟ ᚢ. ᛖᚡᛖᚱᚢᛏᚦᛁᚾᚷ ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᛁᛊ ᚢ,” Elijah says in some old language I can’t place. 

“What exactly did you just say to me,” I ask, expecting the worst.

Elijah smiles and places a kiss on my temple, “I feel safe with you as well, Elskan.”

“I’m going now,” Stefan interrupts us and I move away from Elijah shocked.

The sense of warmth and peace I just had completely washed away as soon as those words left Stefan’s mouth. 

“You should get inside Y/N. Bonnie needs you,” Stefan says to me making me frown. But I nod as I walk through the threshold of the house. Elijah follows me as I stand next to Ric. After a moment Bonnie and Damon walk up the basement stairs and out the front door. I frown as Ric and I follow them and Elijah squeezes my hand once more before dropping it as he passes through the threshold. Ric and I are pushed back though.

“What the hell?”

Ric yells from next to me, “Bonnie! What is this?”

Bonnie turns back towards us, “I can’t put anyone else at risk. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t do this! What if he goes after Jenna,” Ric asks angry.

“Jenna safe locked in at the Salvatore’s.”

“Damon?”

Damon sends us a look, “Sorry buddy. She’s right.”

I look to Elijah for help but from the look on his face he doesn’t seem surprised.

“You knew.”

Elijah turns to me one last time, “I meant what I said about protecting you. If I have to kill my brother to do that, I will. I’m sorry, Elskan. I will see you soon.”

I watch silently, as he turns his back on me and disappears into the woods. So much for trust. 

—-

I watch as my history teacher paces in front of me. Jeremy’s unconscious body lay on the couch next to me and Elena's estranged bald father who looks like Charlie Brown watches us wearily. If you had told me I’d be in this situation a month ago I would’ve called you crazy and set up an appointment for you with my therapist mother. But here I am. Yippee. 

I stand up, and both of the grown men watch me, “Just using the bathroom. Wait…Does this place even have a bathroom,” I ask but groan when I get no answer. I’m about to make my way out of the room when a piercing pain slices through my chest.

It only takes one scream from my lips before Ric is at my side. His mouth is moving but the sheer pain I’m experiencing makes it so I can’t process his words. I watch with teary eyes and sobs coming out of my mouth as Ric lifts his hand from my chest and his eyes widen. The crimson liquid coating his hand is the last thing I see before the world goes black.

—

3rd Person POV- 

Bonnie screams out her spell as she crushes Klaus’s body. Fire burns around them as the once powerful Original lay in agonising pain. From the shadows, Elijah stalks towards his younger brother. 

Elijah stands above him. A mask of anger covers his face as he leans down to stare at the man he once called a brother and a friend. 

“Elijah?”

Klaus stares up at the man he once saw as his protector, and for the first time in centuries, Klaus feels true fear. 

“Hello, brother.”

Stefan and Bonnie watch from afar as Elijah plunges his arm into his brother’s chest. Wrapping his hand around his still-beating heart. 

“In the name of our family…Niklaus…”

“I didn’t bury them at sea,” Klaus’ desperate voice halts Elijah momentarily before shaking off what he believes to be a trick.

“I know about Y/n,” Those four words have Elijah pausing, “I know what she is to you. And I know she's the same to me.”

The hand that was once clenched around Klaus’ heart slacks as Elijah stares at his brother in horror.

“You’re lying,” Elijah snarls.

Klaus shakes his head, “I wish I was, brother. But I’m not. And if you kill me what do you think will happen to her. Are you really going to take that risk?”

Elijah’s once cool face breaks and turns into one of horror as he looks at his hand that is in his brother’s chest. 

Stefan noticing this lapse of judgement speaks up, “Elijah, don’t listen to him.”

“Elijah,” Klaus says, “Think of her.” 

“Do it and I’ll take you both out,” The Bennet witch threatens.

Elijah looks up to her, “You’ll die.”

“I don’t care.”

Stefan and Bonnie watch in horror as Elijah speeds himself and his brother out of the flames and into the night, leaving only silence and heartbreak. 

— 

“Why are we going to this again,” My brother asks from the hallway outside my room as I fix my black dress in my mirror. My hands freeze for a moment as they land on the spot on my chest that was bleeding just the night before. 

-Flashback-

I woke with a gasp and before I could get a second to breathe I felt someone grasp my shoulders into a hug.

“You’ve really got to stop freaking me out like this,” A soft voice says into my ear.

I pull back and my eyes widen to see Elena with glossy eyes staring back at me.

I shake my head confused, “What happened? Did the ritual happen? Who died? Are you a…,” I pause before finishing my last question.

Elena sends me a smile and shakes her head, “They found another way.”

I feel a smile break out onto my face and I go to sit up to hug her but a sharp pain in my chest stops me.

“Don’t move ok. Just lay still,” Elena coaxes me back onto the coach I’m lying on.

“What happened?”

-End of Flashback-

In Elena and Ric’s spark notes version of the night, about 20 minutes after Stefan, Bonnie, and, Elijah left for the ritual I fell down to the ground in pain, screaming and yelling, and when Ric went to check on me I had blood spilling from my chest. Right above where my heart is. Ric said there was so much blood he couldn’t find where it was coming from but after holding pressure on it for another ten minutes the bleeding had stopped and when he moved his hands from my chest I had no wounds that showed I had been wounded. 

Alaric told me he was surprised that I was still breathing after losing the blood that I did. He also told me that while I was unconscious he found Damon slipping me some of my blood. And if I wasn’t as sore as I was I’d have bitched him out. I’ll just put that on the back burner for now. As well as figuring out what the hell is wrong with me. Bonnie said she couldn’t feel any spells or curses on me so at least that’s a plus. I guess. Also, I haven’t seen Elijah in over a day. Honestly, I don’t know if I could face him right now anyway. I’m pissed that he betrayed us, but there’s a part of me that is happy he didn’t kill his brother. A part I’m not telling the public because right now I’m off to a funeral for Elena’s dad who did die.

Elena told me he had Bonnie do some spell that switched his life for hers. And as much as I disliked the guy, I got to give it to him he showed up in the end. RIP Charlie Brown. 

“We’re going because Elena’s my friend and her dad died, Theo. Try to not be an asshole for the afternoon please,” I say as I meet my brother at the front door of our house. My mother and he came back early last night because she had to get home for some work thing. Typical. But that also means I get to be with Theo for the day and after almost dying yesterday, I realized that I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to say goodbye to him, and today could’ve been my funeral he’d be going to. A chill runs down my spine at the thought and I fight back a set of tears.

“Okay, I promise. I’m sorry,” Theo says as he notices a tear fall down my face.

I smile at my little brother and pull him into a hug.

“I knew you missed me,” I can hear the smirk in his voice as I laugh into his suit jacket. 

“Ya, whatever loser let’s go.”

—

I watch with tear-filled eyes as Elena places a rose on her biological father’s grave and then walks over to her parent's matching graves and places roses on them. Theo stands next to me with a solemn expression on his face, Jeremy is next to him, Bonnie, Caroline, and Tyler stand behind us, and Jenna is on my left as she holds Ric’s hand. I turn to look over my shoulder and I catch Damon’s eye as he stands against a tree. And for the first time ever I almost swore he smiled at me. Damn, maybe he’s dying too. 

—

“I’ll be in the car,” Theo says to me and begins to walk away but not before bringing Jeremy in for a bro hug. I watch as my brother safely gets to the car and then I begin to walk over to Elena but see her already crowded with our friends. My gaze goes towards Damon who stands facing the graveyard and I frown. 

“I have a bone to pick with you. You can’t just go and put blood into people’s mouths while they’re-” I say as I approach him. 

“I’m happy you’re ok, Y/N.”

Damon’s interruption and the sincerity in his voice make me halt as I approach him. 

“Wait…I think I’m hallucinating because I could’ve sworn you just called me by my actual name,” I walk up to him and jokingly smirk, “You dying or something?”

“Tyler Lockwood bit me.”

Oh. Fuck.

Translation-

“​​I will love you until the sun explodes, the oceans dry up, human life has long since gone and I am nothing but my soul. But even then I will still belong to you. Everything I am is you.”

[mcu-coworkers]

Exploring The Prince

Summary: Seeing Aegon again brought something new out of you.

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen X Targaryen reader

A/N: This is a part 2 to A Weeks Time which can be read here I plan to continue this series as season 2 goes on so I will tag those parts as I go. I hope you like them and enjoy. :)

(As always I do not own the gif or the characters involved :))

You had traveled from Dragonstone to Kingslanding countless times before this.

But back then it was different, back then you were going to visit your grandfather and cousins nervous for what would break out in a fight first.

Between your cousins and brothers there was always something.

You were lucky to have Helaena in all of this. If not for her they would have driven you to insanity.

”Are you ready my dearest sister?” Lucerys asked as he crept up behind you.

The three of you decided to ride on a dragon back to Kingslanding while your mother and Daemon rode with your younger siblings.

This only meant you would arrive some time earlier than your mother and Daemon, luckily you have your brothers by your side.

” I am as ready as I can be brother.” You answered with a soft smile.

”My sister, do you want this? This marriage to Aegon?” He asked.

Turning to him I noticed his look of confusion.

”It was not an idea of mine, but it is my duty if it is requested by the king.” You answered as you walked closer to him. “Does it bother you Luke?” You asked, looking at his face for an answer.

Although a blind man could have seen it from miles away.

”They aren’t very fond of us, they never have been. I just don’t want him or his brother to take it out on you, I worry for you my sister.” He said taking your hand in his.

”Luke, you are an angel sent from the gods themselves.” You exclaimed as you hugged him tightly.

Moments like this made your eyes tear up, Rhaena was lucky to be his betrothed.

“ I promise you, If I need your rescue I will fly back to Dragonstone at once.” You said smiling at him hoping to ease his conscience.

Before he could say anything else Jacaerys interrupted you both by joining in on your hug.

”Will the two of you wrap this up? We must get on with it if we want to deliver our sister to the wolves by the end of day Luke.” He said attitude dripping from every word.

Deadpanning and looking at Jace he ruined your efforts to ease Lukes mind.

”Jacaerys! I am not being fed to the wolves and if I were I have my dragon I can come back at anytime.” You responded annoyed with your brothers sour mood.

”Besides, Aegon has yet to cause me any discomfort.” You said as a matter of fact.

”That’s because out of us four,” he said pointing at us, “You are the only one who resembles them.” He said, swirling a strand of your white hair in his finger.

”That is not my fault Jacaerys. I wish it were different.” You said feeling a sense of guilt.

You didn’t know why things happened the way that they did but they did and you had no choice in the color of your hair.

Only the gods know why you did.

Sighing, Jacaerys knew he let his mouth go too far.

”My apologies my sister, I did not mean to upset you.” He said this time with a genuine tone in his voice.

Grabbing both of their hands you made them look at you.

”This moment in my life is meant to bring peace between our families, promise me you won’t do or say anything to ruin that? Please.” You begged.

You couldn’t live in a world where you had to choose between your brothers and your betrothed.

You wouldn’t.

Looking at each other your brothers sighed as a form of acceptance.

”You have our word sister, we will not start anything, we will only defend ourselves should they start it first.” Jacaerys finished.

You couldn’t win with these two but you’d take anything at this point.

”Thank you,” You said as you hugged them both, “Now shall we get going? We have a long day of travel ahead of us.” You said as you led them to your dragons.

——

While you rode through the sky with your brothers Kingslanding prepared for your arrival.

Among them was Aegon.

Last he saw you, your brothers had taken Aemonds eye and your mother married Daemon.

All of these years and just now he wondered what you might look like now.

He wondered if you were still and kind and gentle as he remembered.

If your hair was still as soft as it felt when he’d play with it while he told you stories of all the dragon riders he read about.

He knew one day you’d grow to be a beautiful young woman and any man would be lucky to have you at his side.

Little did he know that when that day came he was to be that man for you.

And he only hoped to be enough.

”Lost in thought my brother? I don’t believe I have ever seen you this silent.” A voice said behind him.

Turning to reveal Aemond as the voice to startle his thoughts he turns back to his view of the city.

”That’s because I ’ve never been my dearest brother.” He said, admitting to his change.

”And what’s brought this out of you?” Aemond pushes, although he already knew the answer.

The truth is Aemond had known for years, no one calmed Aegon the way your presence did. It surprised him that Aegon didn’t realize this in the years you two lived under the same roof.

He questioned if Aegon himself even knew it now. How could one be so blind yet have both eyes?

He’d never understand.

“Just saving my energies for Jacaerys and Luke, you know they can come in quite strong sometimes.” He said absentmindedly.

Aegon didn’t want to let Aemond in on his thoughts.

They were of you, and you were pure, he would not let his brothers hatred for yours damage that image.

Chuckling at Aegon Aemond smirks, “And there he is.”

”Now that I see you are well and intact, I should have you know that she arrived quite some time ago.” Aemond said, unable to hold back his amusement at the way his brother's head whipped in his direction.

“What? How long ? I didn’t expect them so soon.” He said standing to walk past his brother.

”They rode on dragon back, seems its only her and her brothers.” Aemond said with mischief in his tone.

Aegon stopped in his tracks upon hearing it.

”Listen to me brother, any ideas you may have, rid yourself of them. If not for her sake then mine. She deserves none of it.” Aegon said, “Give me your word Aemond.” He finished forcing his brother to look him in the eyes.

”Fine, you have my word. But do not waste your time looking for her now, the queen has taken it upon herself to receive them. You won't see her until dinner tonight.” Aemond said, walking past his brother.

Damn my mother and her ways.

——

Dinner could not have arrived soon enough for the both of you.

The Queen managed to keep you quite “busy” for all those hours with her rant of her new found religion.

Aegon on the other hand was forced to pace in his quarters, too annoyed to deal with anyone yet too impatient to sit still and read one of his books.

He wondered if you’d still like to listen to the stories he read like before.

Or if your brothers had poisoned your mind with whatever distasteful thoughts that came out of their mouths.

The thought angered Aegon.

Before he could indulge in such poisonous thoughts a maid knocked on his door.

”Dinner is ready to be served my lord.” She said quickly before turning away.

Finally, Aegon thought.

Aegon all but barged in into the dining room expecting to see everyone but finding no one.

”Dammit.” He cursed as he grabbed a cup and served himself a large amount of wine.

Sitting himself in his assigned seat he waited for the rest to follow.

After your afternoon with the queen you had only a few moments to ready yourself for dinner before your brothers came in to walk you down.

As the three of you walked down the halls you began to fiddle with your fingers.

What if he changed? What if he really was all that you heard and worse?

Standing at the doors of the dining room you took a deep breath and prepared yourself.

Whatever he was now, he was to be your husband and only that could you be sure of.

As the doors opened you put on your gentlest smile and prepared yourself for whatever greeting you’d be given.

”There they are, come my grandchildren.” Viserys said as he waved for you all to join his side.

Quickly you did as he asked joyfully to hear his voice.

”Hello grandfather.” You said as you bowed to his grace.

“My dear y/n how beautiful you’ve come to be, come sit next to your betrothed.” He said, turning to Aegon.

You could feel your brothers stare at the back of your head as you turned yourself to face Aegon.

Walking towards him you bowed your head slightly, “My prince.”

“My betrothed.” He answered with a quiet smile.

Offering his hand to you, taking his hand you walked with him and sat by his side.

Sitting down you began to feel how different things would be.

Your brothers across from you instead of next to you and you next to Aegon.

“Lost in thought?” You heard from next to you.

Turning you came face to face with Aegon.

“My apologies, This is the first I have a second to do so.” You said, taking in his features.

Blue eyes, soft skin. His hair was shorter.

His shoulders more broad, jawline sharper. It was no surprise to you that Aegon aged well.

“Tell me.” He requested softly.

“May I be honest, my prince?” You asked.

My prince, Aegon thought. In that you were right. From the moment he saw you walk in those doors he was devotedly yours.

“ If I am to be your husband, we must learn to trust each other so please, be honest.” He said, watching your eyes soften sensing your relief brought him happiness.

Smiling, you talked to him about your day with the queen and how little interest you truly had in the faith of the seven but listened to her out of respect to your queen.

It wasn’t until you began to talk about your ride here that he finally saw your features light up.

The way you spoke of your dragon, the smile you carried, the glimmer in your eyes.

He only hoped you’d glow like this at the mention of his name some day.

Eventually dinner came to an end and your brothers stood to walk you back to your room.

“ I can walk her back to her room, Jacaerys.” Aegon insisted on wanting to have more time with you.

“Don’t be mad, it is not custom for you to be alone until you wed, come sister.” Jacaerys demanded for your hand.

Wanting to avoid a fight, you took your brother's hand and bid Aegon goodnight.

You enjoyed your time with him and could only wish it lasted longer but for now you’d wait until tomorrow.

Aegon watched as your brothers whisked you away to your chambers only wishing he could follow.

Instead he found the nearest bottle of wine and his glass and took himself to his chambers to await for the next day full of you to come.

After some while of not being able to find sleep you debated finding a maid to bring you tea or just simply taking a stroll in the garden to bring you peace.

Deciding for the ladder you grabbed your robe and made your way to the door.

Opening your door you stopped in your tracks when you came to face with Aegon back facing you.

“Aegon.” you said gently.

Turning to face you Aegon tries to make up an excuse as to why he was at your door late in the night.

Not finding any he decides to allow his mind to speak freely.

“ I couldn’t sleep, I needed someone to talk to. Is that alright?” He said, taking steps towards you.

“ I am your betrothed Aegon, it is my duty to tend to you now.” You said as you looked into his eyes a dark blue you had yet to witness from him.

A look you didn’t recognize just yet, but you would soon.

“May I come in my dearest?” Aegon asked looking down at you too close for temptation.

Giving it no second thought you stepped aside allowing him the space to come in.

Smiling at your invitation he walked in and settled for a couch at the foot of your bed.

Only then as you walked towards him did he notice your attire.

A silk gown covered with a silk robe, your hair brushed out and beautiful.

You made it difficult for him to respect your virtue and you didn’t even know it.

Sitting beside him you waited for him to speak.

Too distracted in his own thoughts you decided to interrupt.

“So what was it?” You asked breaking the silence.

“Hmm? What was what?” Aegon asked being brought back to reality.

You smiled amused at his ability to get lost in his thoughts just as easy as you did.

Realizing what you meant he quickly worked to find the words.

“Right well,” he paused turning to look at you unsure of how you would feel by his question, “What is the craziest thing you’ve done?” He asked.

Slightly taken aback by his question you took a second to think.

“ I - I am not sure by what you mean, the craziest?” You asked hoping he’d clarify.

Turning his full body to you he clarified, “When your mother was younger I heard of the stories where she’d sneak past the walls of the castle and sneak off. Have you ever done such a thing?” He asked curious to know how much you resembled your mother.

This statement made you timid toward the prince.

You’d never even thought to do such a thing. Maybe he’d find you too innocent for his liking at the revelation.

Sensing your answer in your silence Aegon reassured you by putting a hand on your lap.

“It’s alright if you’ve done nothing of the sort, we'll soon have our chance to do all sorts of things. The castle will be yours to do as you please.” He said rubbing his hand on your thigh not realizing the touch as innocent as it was left you feeling hot.

This was new to you.

The thoughts that ran through your mind as he continued to lay his hand upon you so gently.

“All sorts of things?” You asked barely above a whisper as you inched yourself closer to Aegon.

Any kind of sense leaving your mind.

“Yes, we can start exploring tonight if you’d like. Is there something you would like to see?” He asked, noticing your sudden closeness again reminding himself of his need for restraint.

“Anything?” You asked, a look of innocence in your eyes.

“Anything.” He whispered, kissing your hand.

Observing the act you pondered your next move.

On one hand you knew this was wrong on so many levels on the other hand you were losing sight of that mentality the longer his hand stayed in place.

Letting temptation win you take a hold of his hand as you look into his eyes and move his hand to the place where you need him to explore.

You know he’ll be able to help you with this temptation, after all he was to be your husband.

Looking down at the new location of his hand he clenched his jaw fighting for what little restraint he had left.

“My dearest-“ he tried but it only brought you closer to him as he began to lose what little control he had over himself.

Close enough to close the gap with a kiss. But Aegon knew it wouldn’t end with that if you allowed him.

“We are to be wed. Why not explore me?” You asked looking down at his lips wondering how it would feel to be kissed.

His breath hitched in his throat at your words.

“Why must you make it so hard to respect your virtue?” He asked, feeling your hand on his face.

“Then don’t my prince.” You said pulling him to you and closing the gap with a soft gentle kiss.

Pulling away to look into his eyes you saw the darkness behind them now understanding what it was.

For you felt it for him too.

Pulling you back to him this time Aegon grabbed you by the waist and put you on top of him as he kissed you deeply with passion as you tangled your hands into his hair.

Groaning at the sensation Aegon pulled your hips down to meet his, your heat only growing at the sensation of his cock.

Gasping as he moved your hips together, “Aegon,” you moaned into his ear needing more.

Quickly Aegon picked you up and moved you both to your bed.

“This is what you desire?” He asked, looking into your eyes and seeing them filled with lust.

“You are what I desire.” You said breathless and eager.

Those words were all Aegon needed before taking off what was left of the clothing you two had.

kissing your stomach he gently made his way up to you breast massaging your nipple gently whilst peppering kisses on the other sucking lightly on your nipple.

His touch brought quiet moans out of you as you indulge in the pleasure he gave you.

“Aegon please.” You moaned, pulling his face up to meet with yours.

Hoisting your leg onto his waist he lowered himself to kiss your lips.

“You’ll tell me if it's too much?” He asked wanting to hear your reassurance.

“Yes.” You whispered as you kissed the surface of his face not being able to get enough of him.

Kissing your lips once more this time he gently pushed himself in groaning at the sensation of your tightness.

Gasping at his size you looked down as you saw him slowly entering you, stretching your walls the deeper he went.

“Just a little more y/n, that’s it.” He said trying to focus on keeping it slow for you.

Once he was fully inside he gave you a moment to adjust before pulling himself out entirely and thrusting back in gently this time forming a pace you could grow used to.

Slowly the pain of the stretch began to turn into pleasure and your gasps turned into moans needing more

“Aegon,” you moaned into his ear, “Faster please.” You said as you wrapped your other leg around him.

“Fuck,” he said as he tried to hold on to what control he had from releasing into you too soon but your words only brought him closer.

Quickening his thrusts he grabbed a hold of your hip with one hand and held himself up with the other.

Looking down at your face almost brought him overboard as he saw the look of pleasure in your eyes.

His innocent betrothed lying beneath him as he plunged his cock deep into her soaking wet pussy.

And it was soaking wet for him.

“Aegon I - I’m-“ you tried to say but you were cut off by another moan yet he knew what you meant.

“ I know my darling, together.” He said as he rested his forehead on hers closing his eyes as he felt her tightening around him.

“Aegon!” She moaned, getting louder by the second.

Quickly Aegon kissed her to cover the sound of their climax until she came back down.

Kissing her forehead one last time before pulling out of y/n and falling to her side to catch his breath he thought about what just took place.

As did she.

Until this day she had never even had such impure thoughts.

She’d never understood what it was that came over her but the look in Aegon's eyes in that moment told her she wouldn’t need to.

Turning to face him she met him face to face with her innocent smile once again.

“For someone who said they needed someone to talk to, you didn’t do much talking,” you said, smiling.

“ I will have you all of daylight to listen to me talk tomorrow will I not?” He asked moving the few stray hairs from your face.

“You will, my prince.” You whispered as slumber began to consume your body.

Pulling you to his side Aegon kissed your head one last time before closing his eyes as well.

“Then until then my dearest.” He said as he joined you in slumber feeling a sense of fullness with you in his arms.

At Least until morning came.