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astralis-ortus · 6 days ago

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when it's less-than-ideal

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— you can't judge a relationship only based on its good days.

w.count → 0.9k genre → comfort, a dash of comedy at the end warning → chan referred to as chris, babe, my love; reader referred to as baby and babe; kind of sad but it ends well♡ a.n → basically i'm projecting what kind of relationship-slash-communication style i want in a relationship, so... yeah. think i'll be on my own for quite a while, lol. anyways! i also have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop, do check it out♡ ⋆ see masterlist

chris has been acting weird lately, and you don't know why.

you're usually not one to mind—given the way his schedules these days barely even spare the time for him to rest, you understand that your boyfriend is bound to be less like his usual self. you've sat down with chris to talk about it early in your relationship—the expectations, the ideal and less-than-ideal situations, the how-tos, and 4 years in, everything has all worked out just fine.

lately, however,

chris has been acting really strange.

"babe, i'm home," chris' voice softly echoed through the apartment, followed by the rustling of what you could assume is the layer of jacket and hoodie you got him to wear to battle the dropping temperatures of november seoul. "where are you?"

"kitchen!" you chirped, swiftly rinsing off the pots and pans you've been battling against for the past 10 minutes, "i'm still washing the dishes. are you hungry? i made some curry for dinner, it's in the—babe? are you okay?"

the cheeriness in your voice immediately turned into worry when you felt chris' arms around your waist, holding you tight as he allows himself to melt onto you, face buried in the crook of your neck.

after all the years of being at the receiving end of chris' special mix of physical affection, you've naturally learned to differentiate the meaning in your boyfriend's touches—is he just being affectionate? or is he trying to tease you? is he jealous of the interaction you had? or did he sense something and is trying to keep you safe? you have always been able to read chris just from the way his skin grazes upon yours, and so far you've barely ever been wrong,

but god, you sincerely hope you're hitting far from the mark this time.

"hey," you softly called out upon the absence of chris' response, quickly disregarding the dishes to rinse your soapy hands before turning to face chris' tired features, "is everything alright, my love?"

instead of an answer, chris simply leaned onto your touch as soon as your hands came to cradle his cheeks—ones freezing from the cold weather he just escaped moments ago, and only then, you realized just how long it has been since you've properly seen your boyfriend.

how come you haven't noticed the dark, looming shadow in his eyes? or the way his skin had lost its usual glow and instead grew dry with the season? how come you didn't see the way the corner of his lips had grown heavier, or the way his curls you oh-so adored had adopted its long forgotten frizz?

how come it took you so long to properly see chris?

"i'm sorry, baby," running the pads of your thumbs across chris' cheeks, you forced yourself to swallow the lump of guilt lodged in your throat, "i just realized i've been too inattentive to you, and i'm sorry. have you been wanting to talk it out with me?"

and only then, you saw the faint glimmer you fell in love with, peeking between the grey clouds in chris' eyes.

"yeah," despite the hoarseness in his voice, you could hear the warmth returning in the words chris uttered as he nodded, "but i just… i didn't know how to bring it up since i knew you've been dealing with your own stuff as well."

chris quietly exhaled, soft breath grazing your lips when he leaned his forehead onto yours and let his eyes fluttered close, allowing his walls of self-protection to finally crumble as he speaks, "i'm sorry, baby. it was never my intention to let this fester for this long or to make you feel bad in any way. i just didn't know how. i promise."

you know you're not perfect, and neither is chris—but you also know chris has always made it his life mission to make sure you're the happiest you've ever been when you're with him. one honest mistake will never erase the efforts and sacrifice chris has ever made for you, and you'll never let that happen.

"i know, baby," you hummed, lightly dragging the tips of your nails against his scalp when your fingers found the dark locks of his hair, "i don't blame you. i shouldn't have assumed about your condition and let it slip too. i won't let it happen again, i promise."

and you can feel the way chris' shoulder relax at the words you utter,

because just like him, he knows you'll do everything in your power to keep every single one of your promises.

"thank you, baby," chris pulled you into his embrace, completely engulfing you in his warmth while he pressed his lips on your forehead. "i promise i'll try to be better at this too, and thank you for being patient with me. i love you."

it didn't matter how many times have you heard chris whisper those three words in your ears, or how many times have he held you like you're everything that ever mattered to him,

chris will always make your soul feel the most alive it has ever been.

"i love you too, baby," you finally allowed yourself to smile as your arms found their way around your boyfriend's waist, holding him close as you listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat—

"…babe?"

"…yeah," chris sheepishly nodded while rubbing his stomach, "i haven't had lunch too, actually…"

a protest involuntarily slip past your lips along with the forming lines of frown between your eyebrows, perfectly portraying your disapproval of chris' course of action.

"go sit down, i'll fix your plate for you," shaking your head, you turned towards the pot of warm curry on the stovetop in faux disappointment before you continued,

"and we'll talk about whatever's been stressing my christopher out, okay?"

oh, you can definitely confirm,

the sound of chris' soft chuckle will never fail to bring a smile to your face.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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bks-writing-adventures · 4 months ago

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Little Dancer (Aemond Targaryen X Lannister! Reader)

Summary: A wholesome little journey between the first time Aemond met his wife to the birth of their children.

Warnings: Mentions of childbirth, brief mentions of sex.

Aemond never thought he would be a father. He never even thought he would get married, until you came around at a ball. He forgot what it was, a name day of his nephews? Some celebration for his parents marriage? None of it mattered, because he sat still at his family table, watching the room dance and watching lords get drunk and stupid. And all of a sudden you had blocked his view, your hands on either side of his plate.

“Do all Princes sit pouting at balls?” You asked. The question flustered him, his one eye meeting yours. It was like you were challenging him, and the thought made his heart spin in his chest.

“Only when he has no one to dance with.” He answered. The words magically came to him, and he held his breath as he had waited for you to respond.

“It is a good thing I am here then, is it not? Or would you rather sit here, eating scraps and wishing to be elsewhere?” You were so teasing- so confident, and before he knew it, his hand was wrapped around yours, and you were walking backward as you dragged him to the dancefloor. He did not have the time to be self conscious, and he could no longer let his eye wander as his hands landed on yours, spinning you, watching how your skirts swished and your hair got fluffy and frizzed.

“So who are you, my little dancer?” He asked softly, holding you closer to him. You were warm, and he couldn’t tell what was making his heart pound. Your presence or the wine, or maybe an intoxicating blend of both.

“(Y/N) Lannister,” You answered, licking your lips as the song ended. “If you wish to get to know me, we should move somewhere quieter,” You said gently, and he smiled as his eye wandered.

“I know a place,” He said softly, his arm linked with yours as he carefully lead you out and into the gardens. It was quite the scandalous thing, he was well aware- but he didn’t care enough to stop. His brother was far from proper, he was a criminal and a disappointment. Speaking to a pretty girl in the garden would not be the worst crime. The garden hiccuped with the sounds of grasshoppers and frogs, and you smiled at the sound.

“Do you know what that sound is?” You asked softly, and he gave you a curious look as you walked further into the great land of flowers.

“Frogs,” He said simply, to which you nodded.

“Mating frogs. Do you know how many eggs a frog can lay at once?” You asked.

“Do you tell everyone your favorite amphibians facts, or am I special?” He smiled a little, trying not to let his interest show on his face.

“There are facts much more interesting than that,” You answered, and for a few minutes, the two of you simply walked in the quiet.

“How many eggs can a dragon lay?” You asked.

“You take an interest in dragons, My Lady?” He asked in return, to which you nodded. He quietly sat on a bench, pulling you down to sit beside him. The moonlight did not do much to guide either of you, but he could make out the bridge of your nose and the slight shine of your eyes in the darkness. “Well, they can lay five, at most.” He responded, wondering if that would be enough for you.

“Why is that? And what are they like?” You asked, resting your chin on your hand. You had always liked to learn about science, and this was your way in. Into the world of infinite books and knowledge. And he just had such a pretty face, which definitely helped the case.

“The eggs? They’re hard and large and scaly,” He responded, reaching over to touch your hand. It was a daring move, but he wanted to feel you. In the darkness, touch the soft skin of your hand and wrist, and you didn’t move away.

“Why is that? Are they not reptiles?” You asked quietly, and he had to lean closer to hear you.

“Dragons cannot be put into a box, My Lady. They are everything and nothing. No mortal could ever learn to understand them,” He murmured, gently guiding your hand to his mouth so he could kiss it. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that attracted him so. You were just so unconventional, untrained. It was fascinating.

“Not even Targaryens?” You asked softly as his breath tickled your fingers.

“Certainly not. We only shout commands and hope they listen,” He chuckled softly. He was about to speak again when a loud shout suddenly broke the walls of intimacy around them. For the love of Gods, this did not look good. He wasn’t sure if he pushed your hand away, or if you pulled it back, but all contact was quickly broken as the two of you rushed to stand up.

“Aemond, what is the meaning of this?” His mother sounded rather angry. She always was, whenever something like this happened. This was the worst possible time for her to wander over.

“Mother, I was simply conversing with the Lady Lannister, and-” She cut him off, making his lips purse.

“Without a chaperone, in the darkness, away from the sights of others? Do you understand how scandalous this is?” As you both shrunk under her lecture, neither of you argued back. And soon enough you and Aemond were sat before his mother and your own as they discussed.

“We did nothing unholy. We were only speaking of the anatomy of dragons,” You frowned, to which your mother quickly shook her head.

“Is that what they call it nowadays? This is out of control, and now your honor is ruined,” She huffed, and you stared down boredly at your hands. This is not how you thought your night would go, and the next sentence only made things more bizarre.

“Her honor is not ruined, and I will ensure it. I intend to make (Y/N) my wife.” Aemond spoke, making your head quickly turn. All arguments died out like a flame without air, his eye soft and apologetic as he looked at you. But neither of you could claim to be mad about it. It was only the Gods’ odd way of making a match, and the next days were full of shy conversation and blushing cheeks, loomed over by your parents as they dissected every interaction.

“I have a gift for you,” he said softly, pulling out a large book from his bag. It was bigger than your head, and the spine as so thick it could easily be mistaken for a brick.

“Wow,” You mumbled, trying to read the front cover, but it is not in Common. Your eyes looked to his face, a curious look taking over your own.

“It is in High Valyrian, its one of the oldest books in our library- well, not that one, that is a copy. The original would crumble like sand in your palms. But the language will be important for you to learn, I thought we could practice together,” He spoke, getting a little shy. It was a sweet sight, and you nodded as he explained.

“Then you should allow me to teach you some Nyvia.” You responded. His brows scrunched a little. He had never heard of the language in his life.

“And what is that?” He asked gently, intrigued. He didn’t realize you were bilingual, too.Your children would be an interesting batch.

“My mothers first language. It is dying out, not many speak it anymore. Are you familiar with the island of Nyav?” You asked, and he nodded slowly. He had read about it in history books. It had been a brilliant place of beautiful plants and even more beautiful people. The stories said that it was lost to the sea, or to conquering, no one was sure. You were like a God of the old world, sitting right before him.

“She lived there as a young girl, escaped before it disappeared, when she was betrothed to my father. I will admit that my own speaking is messy, but at least it is alive,” You spoke, slowly opening the book he had given you. You squinted a little. The letters were familiar, but the order was unlike anything you had ever seen. The longer he looked at you, the more questions formed in his head.

“Do you think you have any Valyrian in you?” He asked. Nyvia had belonged to no one at all, no one knew where the people came from, only that they had not been there all along. Perhaps it had begun with Targaryen’s fleeing the Doom, or other Valyrians that escaped to the sea and washed upon its shores.

“I do not think so. I do not look the part,” You reminded him, watching as his hand inched closer to yours, your fingertips brushing. It was perhaps the most touch you would be allowed until after you were married.

“White hair does not make a Valyrian. It was only a thought,” He said, gently shrugging. His mind wandered to your children, the ones he would have with you. How many there would be. If they would have hair like yours, or hair like his own. How they would look on dragonback, and if you could all fly together as a family. Vhagar was more than big enough for two. You could hold his waist, and he would fly ahead of the children, and they would follow him like ducklings. Maybe you would have 12 children, one for every moon of the year. He cleared his throat as his mother called for him. Your meeting was done for the day. And when two more moons passed, it was finally your wedding day. Your dress clung to every part of your body, and your hair was covered with a heavy veil, beaded with pearls and gems big enough to pay off an entire house.

The maids had tried to get you to agree to having pinned hair, or a more tradition style, but you declined. You never liked having too much on you, weighing you down. The air was stuffy with the breath of hundreds, and you tried not to look at the crowd as Aemond stood before you. “Kessa sagon sȳz. Laesi va nyke.” He murmured softly, and you nodded as your eyes studied his face. He was wearing his fanciest eyepatch. You wondered how many were in his collection, and if you would ever see him without it. If he slept with it on. As you both repeated the words of the Septon, and it came time for the kiss- you stared at each other for a long, awkward few seconds, trying to figure out which one of you would lean in first. You may have been brave enough to approach him that first night, when he was just a sulking stranger. But now things were so much bigger. You had an audience.

Finally, once he accepted you would not be the one to do it, he leaned down to press a brief, awkward kiss on your mouth, and you both parted with small, sheepish smiles. Once you were at your table, you both let out deep breaths from your lungs, and finally,you could curl up together, your arms looped around his as you giggled into his sleeve. “That was unbearable,” Your words were light, but the hit was strong, and he chuckled awkwardly. He had hoped the kiss was not that bad. But he felt a wave of uncertainty rushing into him. The first kiss was supposed to be magical, like you were bathing in fire and pureness and all that was good. But it felt like a child smushing two dolls together.

He only hoped that with time, things would get better. And oh, how they certainly did. The bedchamber was full of soft sounds, and for every moan came ten laughs and raised brows. “Mm.. you sound like you are being murdered,” He murmured into your shoulder, and you smiled as you squeeze his hand.

“And you sound like you’ve run 30 miles,” You responded as he panted onto your skin.

“Oh, hush,” He smiled, gently biting your neck.

“Little vampire,” You mumbled before he gently guided your face down to a pillow. He did not expect anything to come of your night of teasing and touch, but when six weeks had passed, he woke in the morning to you squirming from his arms.

“It is too early for you to wake.” He grumbled. He had been an early bird before your marriage, before he was up into the early hours of dawn inside you, kissing you, teaching you High Valyrian as you tried to teach him Nyvia.

“Yoane,” He spoke, and you shook your head.

“Yo-awn-ee.” You repeated, and he tried once more.

“Yoane,” He nodded, and you groaned into your hands.You were trying to teach him the words for love, your face pink with laughter. But as you rushed to the bathroom, your face took on an almost gray hue, and he found himself holding your hair in a big bundle as you spittled into the chamberpot, your belly soft and your nose sensitive. You were with child, or perhaps three or four, for when you reached your second trimester, you were a giant.

“Mmm… you are like a dragon,” He mumbled as he kissed upon your stretched skin.

“How so?” You asked softly, caressing his hair as his cheek pressed onto your belly.

“You are going to lay a whole clutch. You must have three or four in here,” He marveled at the size of you, and you rolled your eyes.

“I am telling your mother that you said that,” You responded, making his brows scrunch together.

“You would not dare.” In the months of your marriage, Queen Alicent had grown quite attached to you. While she loved her son, she had always found him to be rather an intense man. She wasn’t afraid of him, no, but she never thought he would find marriage. Find joy. She thought he would grow old and become a knight or a philosopher, and she was quite pleased with you for bringing out these new parts of him. And so, if she learned of his comments of your size, she would beat him messy with a sock. When you were finally about to burst at the seams, you learned that there were things far more stressful than a wedding day. It was like everyone wanted to see your baby plop out, Alicent walking the room as they propped your legs off.

“Would you mind leaving the room? This is a rather private matter,” Aemond spoke to his mother in a hushed voice, to which she gently shook her head.

“And I am to be the grandmother of this child. I am close family, am I not? This is a huge deal for you, my youngest son having his first child!!” She gushed, and you shifted uncomfortably.

“It may be hours before the baby arrives,” You groaned quietly, pushing the small wooden tools away from your legs. “I do not wish for too many to see my blood and my mess,” Your eyes held a certain fire, and your jaw clenched, and slowly her face filled with an understanding, nodding slowly. You were no Rhaenyra, and you were no enemy. You were her daughter in law, the wife of her youngest son. And so quietly, she left the room, leaving you to the midwives, the maesters, and your husband.

“Perhaps you would like to leave, My Prince. It is not necessary for the husband to stay,” One of the Maesters spoke, to which you quickly shouted.

“If you leave me I will ensure that you never get to hold the baby.” You said quickly.

“I would not dream of it, my dearest,” He responded, coming closer so you could hold his hand. Several hours passed of loud noises and angry shouts, little crescent moons cut into his hand from your grasp. Child after child escaped your womb, until a whole batch of seven was swaddled. The midwives had to call for backup to tend to all the children, each of them around five pounds. It was a concerning miracle, and Aemond’s eye widened as he stared at all the squirming infants.

“By the seven..” He murmured, quite literally. A child for every god. What a miracle it was. His heart fluttered with fear as he reached out to one of the infants, the only girl, her hand slowly curling around his finger. It was beautiful and scary all at once, like a comet scratching the sky. It was all so very real all of a sudden, his breath catching in his throat as his eye watered.

“Are they all healthy?” You asked softly, sitting up slowly, your hands curling up. “Yes,” One of your handmaids quickly told you.

“Small but mighty, they are all warm and crying,” She spoke, wiping sweat from your face. You smiled, taking a deep breath, your eyes slightly puffy as two of the babies were placed on your chest. Two of the boys, one with hair like your own, and the other with a head of snow, little curls still damp from birth. “Look at his little swirly wirlies.” You mumbled, and Aemond chuckled as he leaned over, two of the babies in his own arms. One with gingery Hightower hair, the other with hair like his own. What the litter you had. “How many girls?” You asked softly, reaching to gently take the blankets off, but Aemond answered you before you had to use your energy.

“Just the one,” He said softly, placing her on your belly. The two of you laid in the bed for hours, covered in babies on every limb and surface. It was a mess, a loud swarm of little coos and crying. But neither of you had ever been happier. Aemond never thought he’d be a good father, but he sure could do his best.

Thank you to everyone who reads!! Feel free to send in requests :)

-BK ♡

#house of the dragon #aemond x oc #asoiaf #aemond fic #aemond fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #dad! aemond

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jaemna · 2 months ago

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— [ 12:12am ]

wc 1.1k

jaemin x fem!reader, mdni!!

an : pls forgive me if this sucks it is currently past 4am and i’m a bit delirious but jaemin sent me into a maniacal spiral so i had to write a little something 🤍

jaemin’s front door slams open with a force that rattles the walls, and probably would have startled him, had he not been expecting it. there’s a second bang as the door is thrown shut not even a second later, and the sound of hurried, shuffling footsteps across his floor increases in volume as they rapidly come closer and closer to his bedroom.

you appear then in his doorway, and jaemin can’t help the smirk that spreads across his face as he peeks up at you over the top of his phone. he can tell you’ve been running by the weight of your breaths in the silence you’ve disrupted upon your arrival.

you stare at him for a brief second, a flicker in your sharp gaze that he’s not at all a stranger to, but hasn’t seen quite so intensely; its a look he recognizes immediately as lust.

his eyes meet yours from his position- calm, cool, collected. there’s an extremely stark contrast in the vibes present between the two of you. the heat in your eyes only intensifies and your gaze moves away from his face.

the back of jaemin’s head rests on his wrist, the lift and bend of his arm making the swell of his bicep ever more prominent. he's shirtless, and the expanse of his arm leads directly down to a completely unobstructed view of his entire torso. a pair of sweatpants sit so low and lazily on his hips you can see the sharp angles of his pelvic bone and the dip of his stomach into his v line.

he knows exactly what he’s doing, and you do, too. it takes every morsel of self control you have not to fall to your knees right then and there. jaemin’s gaze never leaves your own, and he purposely builds tension by waiting for you to speak first.

“have you lost your mind?”

jaemin chuckles then, finally pushing himself up to sit up on the edge of the mattress.

“what do you mean?” he muses, tilting his head and torturing you with the same effortless smile that sends a shiver up your spine every time.

“do not play dumb with me na jaemin, you know exactly what i mean,” there’s an edge to your voice, but jaemin knows better than to read it as anger.

jaemin thinks you look so cute right now, with your frilly little sleep shorts and worn out bunny slippers and a hoodie he let you borrow months and months ago that at this point belongs to you now. your hair is messy in the same way it is when you wake up, frizzed up by your pillow, and he knows that it took you all of three minutes at most from the moment you saw his post to be out the door and on the way here, just for him.

he can see straight through your serious demeanor, the furrow in the brow and the cock of your hip as you cross your arms. the pink on your cheeks and your eyes trained on his shoulders as he leans back on his hands give it away like a secret that was never meant to be kept.

jaemin lifts his hand and motions you toward him with two fingers, and you immediately oblige, the little bunny ears on your slippers flopping as you walk forward. he hooks his fingers in the pockets of your hoodie when you’re close enough to reach and pulls you up against him, sitting you on his lap and resting his large hands on the plush of your thighs that straddle his waist.

“what’s wrong, sweet girl?” he purrs up at you, his eyes shining, and your willpower to stay composed dwindles by the second. you give his chest a little shove, a pout on your face.

“you know what’s wrong!” you whine. “my sexy boyfriend is what’s wrong.”

“that’s an interesting issue to have, it must be really difficult,” jaemin says, a pout on his face that matches your own. heat floods your body in waves from the way he wraps his strong arms around your middle, his hands sliding up under the hem of your hoodie to ghost his fingers up and down the bare skin of your back. you glare down at his stupidly pretty face.

“it is when you have to share him with the whole world,” you mutter with a frown. your eyes fall to watch your finger trace along his collarbone.

“aww, baby, don’t be grumpy,” jaemin coos, squeezing lightly on your hips. he leans forward to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. “you don’t have to share me with anyone.”

the warmth of his breath as he speaks brings out a fluttery sigh, so light you didn’t think he would even catch it, but you feel his lips smirk against you. he travels up, placing sweet, wet kisses up the side of your neck, humming into your skin when you tilt your head to give him more access.

“but it’s good to know,” he starts, sucking at the sensitive spot just under your jaw that he knows so well. you let out a soft whimper, so sweet it makes his heart skip a beat. “that such a simple picture riled my girl up so much.”

you feel a flutter in your stomach and a beat between your legs, and you have to swallow down a groan as one of his hands slides around the junction of your hip and your thigh, his fingers dancing up to the hem of your shorts and right down the middle of your panties. he smirks, swelling with pride when he feels how wet you are.

“you’re the devil,” you whine in a meek voice, no real weight behind your words, and he smirks evilly.

“then i guess we balance each other out, huh angel?”

he leans up then, cupping your face to look at him, and presses his lips against yours. you give up control immediately, letting him tilt your chin to open your mouth and let his tongue slide through. the kiss is slow yet feverish, and you wrap you arms around his broad shoulders to pull him closer until there’s not a sliver of space left between you.

he pulls away after a second and you chase his lips as he does, involuntarily rocking forward. jaemin gulps, feeling the friction between his legs and he grips your waist to steady you. you almost cry out when his fingers move away from where you need him the most, a cold and empty feeling replacing it.

you look at him, his face flushed and his eyes hazy as he looks right back at you. a genuine smile quirks up his glossy lips and he tucks the bottom one between his teeth, tracing his thumb across your cheek.

“i’m all yours, baby.”

you rock your hips up on his lap again, making his eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head back. a low groan rises in his throat, caught in the rhythm you begin to set so desperately. your hand makes its way into his hair, giving it a gentle tug. he lets out a heavy breath through his nose, his jaw tensing up and his brows pinching together, still biting down on his lip. you lean forward, the tip of your nose brushing against the shell of his ear, your voice airy and quiet as you speak.

“prove it.”

#i’ll reread this tomorrow and hopefully i don’t hate it then 💀#na jaemin #jaemin #nct dream #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #na jaemin smut #jaemin smut #nct dream smut

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