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arcielee · 10 months ago

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Thank you for reading this, Miss Martha 🥰

It's Not Tonight

Summary: Tom Bennett slips in through your window. Paring: Tom Bennett x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.6k+ Warnings: Tom is a scoundrel, angst from a one night stand, masturbating, a smidge of voyeurism, kissing, grinding, sexual memories recalled fondly but also bitterly, overstimulation kinda? Author's Note: It has been one year since I last wrote for Tom fucking Bennett and what better way to commemorate that than something short and smutty? This takes place end of episode 1 and beginning of episode 2, for season 1 WoF. Thank you so much my beloved @helaelaemond for being my muse, for your help with this piece! Without you, it would have just been sitting in my drafts. 💜 Dividers are by @saradika-graphics 💜

It had been two weeks since Tom slipped through your bedroom window, his features pink from the night’s cold air and a boyish grin curled on his lips. You squeaked your surprise, your eyes wide as he pressed close to kiss, the contrast of his cold nose and hot mouth making your skin rise, tasting the pint he must’ve finished before he came tapping on your window pane.

“Be quiet, pretty girl,” he had said, a murmur against your lips, and you sighed sweetly, his tongue pushing past your lips for another deep kiss. “We don’t want to wake no one.”

This was true, as your father would often vocalize on how much he loathed, “that damn Bennett.” You quietly pulled him towards your bed.

The next morning, your sheets held the tangy sweet scent of the euphoria he had pulled from you–several times–mixing with the cigarette smoke and a musk that was so distinctly his own. As you pulled them off to wash, you noticed his navy blue overcoat he had tossed onto your chair. You grabbed it as well, smiling with the thought it would be clean for when he came back.

But he did not come back that night, or the next one.

It was now fourteen fucking days since that night together. Though your agitation with Tom Bennett was not as adamant on your every expression, something pointed out by your mother, it still thrummed beneath in such a way that rattled your bones. His coat was now clean and folded across the armrest, a mockery of that short-lived bliss.

You were on your bed and reliving the warmth of his voice that had tickled the shell of your ear, how his fingers so carefully peeled away your nightgown and the undergarments you had worn, the gentle nip of his mouth that trailed towards your core…

You burned with this memory, same as you had that night, rutting your nightgown to your hips, your fingers touching and trailing back up the damp fold of your underwear that was shaped to your lips before you dipped below the waistband. Your arousal was slick between your folds, a slow circular motion, just as Tom had done.

When he did, he had asked you, “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

That arrogant bastard–but your scoff came out as a soft moan, followed with his name spilling from your lips, breathless and still wanting, “Tom…”

“Yes, love?”

The voice struck cold against your spine, your hand pulling back and your eyes snapping open to see his lean figure pulling through your window. You struggled to find your voice. “I…” you were now burning from how Tom looked over you, aglow, aware, with his damn cheeky, boyish grin splayed across his perfect mouth, “...where the hell have you been?”

Tom only hummed in response, still smirking as he peeled off his shirt, his pale chest stained pink, and climbing onto your bed. You parted your legs to let him rest into the cradle of your hips, the nip of his skin against your plush thighs making your skin rise.

When you tried to move the offending hand, he was quick to catch your wrist, the crystalline blue of his eyes boring into you, and you stared at him a moment, watching as he brought your hand closer, pressing your middle and ring fingers to his tongue, his hot mouth closing and suckling them clean.

Your mouth opened with a soft gasp, squirming under his weight, from the sensation of his tongue licking your fingertips. He pulled your hand back with a lewd pop and let it fall back to your side, his grin still cheeky and now almost smug.

“They had me on remand for two weeks,” his voice was low, the blue in his eyes bright, “I came here to celebrate, but I see you started already…”

You should have pushed him off and then back out the window he crawled in from, but your body betrayed you with a warmth pooling between. Instead, you pushed to your elbows, one hand reaching to cup the back of his neck to pull him closer for a kiss, tasting the remnants of yourself, your tongue curling against the roof of his mouth.

Tom groaned, low, returning the passion until your breath was a heated exchange. He shifted his slender hips with a slow grind against your clothed cunt and you moaned softly, nails biting into his shoulders. He reached between, his fingertips almost tickling with his touch.

“So wet,” and he was still smug, “and it’s all for me.”

Your eyes were glazed already, your skin warming as you processed what he said, but before a smart comment could pass your kiss-swollen lips, his hot mouth moved to reclaim yours again. He was hard already and you could feel him, pressing against the seams of his pants, pressing against you until your heart rate could now be felt in your cunt.

“Tom,” you moaned again, your hips lifting for the friction, “I need you.”

He pulled to lay onto his back, unfastening his buttons while you slipped your panties off. You moved to straddle him, his slender frame caught between your plush thighs and his cock hard and flushed and pressed upwards, nearly touching his belly button, slotted between your soft lips. Black now almost swallowed the brilliant blue of his eyes when they focused on your nipples that were peeking beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown; you could feel him pulse beneath you.

Tom pushed up for another kiss, fumbling to help remove your final layer, your bare chest flushed against his as he pulled you close, and his chest hair tickled. His mouth moved towards the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest, the glisten of his spit with every intimate kiss placed.

Your back arched in response, rolling your hips against him. You reached to line him with your entrance, slowly sinking onto his length; you are wet, but there was a stretch still, a fullness that Tom fucking Bennett possessed, and it was delicious.

“Stop clenching,” he gritted once he was fully sheathed within. Your hands moved to his chest, pushing him to lay back against the pillows; it was your turn to wear the smug smirk.

His eyes fluttered as you slowly rocked against him, so deep you swore you saw sparks when he bottomed out. His grip dimpled with the hold he had on your hips, lifting his own in response to your motion. You gasped, soft in the quiet of the bedroom, and he repeated the movement.

“Fucking hell,” he rasped, setting a pace that sent a tingling sensation to the ends of your appendages, returning to claw at your lower core. “You feel fucking perfect.”

You are without words, your fingertips digging red crescents onto his pale chest for balance, chasing after your pleasure. The flutter of your walls around him had Tom groaning. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, and one of your hands lifted to touch his bottom lip and, again, his mouth closed around, his tongue coating them with his spit. You pulled back and slipped them between your blossom above where his in-and-out pace continued, a milky white ring forming around his base.

The touch was the tipping point, spilling your climax with a clenching response to the shuddering euphoria that rippled through you. You struggled to stay quiet and Tom was quick to roll you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress.

His large hand pressed over your mouth to muffle you, sliding back in and returning to his same brutal pace. You whimpered against his palm, still very sensitive with the final waves of your last release that was trilling your spine.

“One more for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, and your tears were already pearling, your walls clenching with your second peak–not as intense as the first, but a prolonged pleasure with the stuttering of his hips.

Tom pulled back, still hunched over you with his tension present in his shoulders and neck, his brow focused in a furrow as he pumped his fist, his pearly spend spilling from his flushed cockhead and across your stomach. He paused, leaning close to touch his forehead to yours, a sticky sheen from his peak, before his jaw tilted up to press a messy kiss to your hairline.

“Alright then.”

You blinked and he was gone, already standing and tucking himself back into his slacks before reaching to toss your nightgown to your grasp. You could already feel the heat of your returned anger spilling into your bloodstream, replacing the sweetness you felt only moments before. “You taking off to disappear another two weeks then?” Your voice was tight with the question.

His crooked grin flashed as he crawled back onto the mattress, his mouth hot and consuming, his kiss slow and searching until it drew a small noise from you. Then Tom pulled back again, grabbing his shirt. “I have somewhere to be tomorrow.”

“Court date?” You were flushed from the kiss, but your bitter tone remained.

“They only let me out cause I said I’d join up, but I had a change of heart on the way over,” he finished the last buttons before tucking it into the waist of his slacks, his perpetual smirk playing on his lips, “I’m a conscientious objector.”

His Mancunian drawl emphasized the final two words. “You’re a scoundrel is what you are, Tom.”

Tom only hummed, grabbing his coat and slipping his arms through the sleeves. “You would not have me any other way,” and he moved to steal another kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue that stirred your blood again.

But before your fingers could move to comb through his sandy locks, he pulled away, disappearing out through your window and into the night.

You fell back onto your sheets with their tangy sweet scent of the intimacy shared, of cigarette smoke and the musk that was so distinctly Tom fucking Bennett’s.

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl

arcie's ewanverse masterlist

#comment reply #i love my tumblr kindred spirits #tysm for reading!#tom bennett is such a scoundrel #and we love him for it

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kittenintheden · 6 months ago

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how to train your brat

oh fuck it you gremlins have this mess of a scene lol. consider it a sneak preview for a far future chapter of NYS. you can skip it if you want to save it for later.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Ori (f!OC) Word Count: 2.2k Content: 18+, Ori bratting, (unascended) Astarion brat-taming, light BDSM elements, blowjob, teasing, dirty talk, light spanking, orgasm denial, PIV sex, established relationship, safe sane consensual, future NYS content

The moment the door swings shut, Astarion throws the bolt and stalks up behind Ori, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her flush against him so that she can feel his arousal against her arse. She hums and pushes back into it, thinking she knows what he has planned, so he gives her a little shake.

He puts his mouth to her ear and growls, “Oh, darling, you think you’ve earned this? My little scoundrel. You’ve been nothing short of a complete brat all damned day.”

“You liked it,” she teases, attempting to tilt her head back so she can nip at his ear. He doesn’t let her move.

“She thinks she’s so very clever, leaving me aching for hours,” he whispers, giving her one more light shake to drive the point home that she’s not to move. He releases one of her arms and reaches straight down the front of her leggings, seeking the slick he knows waits there. She groans and grinds into his touch, trying to get a draw across her clit, but he intentionally pulls back.

“No, no,” he says, removing his hand and bringing his fingers, shining with wet, to his mouth so he can lick his tongue along them. “You don’t get rewarded for this behavior. Don’t think I haven’t been able to tell that you’ve been soaking through your smallclothes all day. This was all for you. Filthy girl.”

She hums again, the flush across her cheeks belying her nonchalance. “And what, pray tell, are we going to do about that?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” he says, spinning her around so he can put a hand under her jaw and make her look him in the face. “You’re the brat. Do you know what happens to brats?”

“What’s that?” she breathes, her smile seductive and easy. She peeks out her tongue to curl toward his mouth.

“Brats have to beg,” he whispers, holding her in place. “So get on your knees and ask sweetly. And if you’re a very good girl and I’m feeling very generous, I might let your needy cunt take the cock it so desperately wants.”

She pouts, then, sticking out her lower lip and giving him her biggest, saddest eyes. “Even though I could soothe your ache? It must be so much to bear by now.”

His grin spreads over his face and he shakes his head. “You’ve no idea how long I can wait, my love,” he says. “Your move.”

Ori gives him several slow blinks, judging his resolve. When he doesn’t waver, she smirks and turns her head just enough to place a tiny lick along his thumb.

Then she goes down.

His breath catches. Part of him hadn’t expected her to do it. Thought she’d tap out. But she doesn’t. She’s on her knees before him, looking up doe-eyed and waiting for whatever’s next. Waiting for him to tell her what’s next.

Astarion’s pupils blow out and he exhales.

“Hands behind your back,” he says, voice pitched low.

Ori puts her hands behind her back.

He rotates his shoulders and his spine goes straight as he looks down at her, a calm settling over him. A confidence. It’s like pulling on a persona, but it’s more than that, because he wants to do it. He wants to be this version of himself right now, and he can take it off again if he chooses.

Astarion puts a knuckle under her chin and sharpens the tilt of her head, making it so she has no choice but to look him directly in the eye.

“Are you going to be good for me, Orianna?” he says in a voice like honey.

She licks along her lips and leaves them parted a moment before she answers, “Yes, dearest. I’ll be so good for you.”

A shiver runs up his spine and he huffs a laugh, rolling his neck before he looks down at her again. “You certainly will.” His fingers go to his laces, undoing his stays without any particular hurry as Ori’s eyes trace the action. He reaches inside and strokes along his cock, throwing his head back with a sigh at the temporary relief. His head tips forward again and he continues to work himself.

Ori bites her lip and slowly lets it go as she watches the movement.

He’s breathy as he says, “If I were a cruel man, I’d do it myself while you watch and then leave you wanting after how you’ve behaved.” Stroke. Stroke. “But I’ll be generous. I’ll give you a chance to convince me.”

She shudders her breath out and flicks her eyes back up to his face.

Stroke.

“If you’d like to come tonight,” he purrs. “Then beg for what you want, brat.”

Ori swallows and he watches her face go soft and pleading, lip quivering. He knows it’s an act, just like his, but gods is it convincing.

“I’m so sorry, love,” she says tearfully. “I’ve been just awful. I’m desperate for you. Empty. I need you, beloved. Your touch. Your mouth. Your cock. Please let me do better. Please, may I? May I be good for you?”

The rush of arousal makes him lightheaded, swaying on his feet for a second before he rights himself. “Show me how good,” he breathes, pulling his cock free for her. “Slowly, now.”

She holds his eye as she leans forward, arms clasped tightly behind her back, and licks the flat of her tongue along the underside of the head of his cock, working extra carefully around the sensitive bit where his foreskin connects.

His right knee buckles the tiniest bit before he catches himself.

Ori maintains eye contact as she kisses down the shaft and runs her tongue along the seam between his balls and all the way back up again.

He swallows thickly and raises a brow at her. “You can do better, darling.”

Rising to the challenge, Ori takes him fully in her mouth, bobbing down halfway the first time and then a little deeper with each successive try. She hollows her cheeks and her mouth is hot and soft and her tongue is rolling in waves along his length. He struggles not to simply melt into the sensation.

As directed, she keeps an agonizing pace, sucking him slowly so he can feel every bit of it. He breathes in deep through his nose and exhales through his mouth as he watches her pleasuring him at his direction, leaving herself untouched. It stokes the fire in his belly and he can’t stop the moan in his throat as the tension of the day catches up with him.

Gently, he cants his hips to meet her, beginning to lose himself in the relief her sweet mouth provides. His eyes fall closed and he cards his fingers through her hair on one side, thumb instinctively rubbing small circles against her ear. She moans around him and Astarion feels his cock harden further.

“Oh, good girl,” he whispers. “Ah, such a good girl.”

The deliciously slow build begins to develop a sharper edge, his pleasure mounting.

But oh, he’s not done with her yet.

With an absolutely monumental effort, Astarion claws the shredded strings of his thoughts back together long enough to use his hand to stop her movement. He draws back from her and she peers up at him, waiting, a strand of her saliva still connecting them. She blinks her wide eyes at him like an innocent.

“Up,” he grunts, holding out a hand for her. She accepts it and allows him to pull her to standing.

He can see that she’s gone glassy-eyed at this point, and the briefest brush over the tadpole connection reveals that she’s almost as mad with lust as he is, all from pleasing him so thoroughly.

And just like that, he feels the rush of having the upper hand again. He kisses her hard, both hands on either side of her head, and backs her toward the bed. Though their bodies are crushed together, he manages to run his hands down to her leggings, shoving them roughly over her hips just before her knees hit the bed and she goes onto her back. She lifts her legs to help him get her bottoms all the way off and sits up on the edge of the mattress, legs spread and a triumphant smile on her face, chest heaving in anticipation.

Astarion bends at the waist with a fist pressed to either side of her thighs on the bed, leaning in as if for a kiss. When she tilts her face forward, he stops just short of her mouth.

Ori’s brow furrows the tiniest bit in confusion.

“Did you think you’d earned cock, just for that?” he whispers against her lips. “Silly thing.”

She gives a surprised huff of a laugh. “I… what?”

He reaches up a thumb to draw across her lower lip, watching as it goes. “You vastly underestimate the amount of bollock-ache you left me with today.”

“Astarion,” she sighs in frustration.

“What happens to brats, Ori?” he teases.

She squeezes her eyes shut and blows a curl out of her face. The intensity in her gaze when she opens them again is off the charts. “Brats have to beg,” she says.

“I’m listening,” he says with a smirk.

“Gods damn it,” she huffs, throwing her head back. She rights herself and says, “Touch me. Please. Now. Anything, just touch me, for fucksake, I’m losing my mind.”

He clicks his tongue. “Terrible. Let me help you find your focus.” With nimble fingers, he reaches down between her legs. “What was it you said? My touch.” He presses his finger lightly to the seam of her and strokes along it, enough to give her a shiver but nowhere near enough for relief. She twists her hips toward his hand with a whine, desperate for more, but he’s already gone.

“My mouth,” he adds, bending down and preening at the sound of her sucking in her breath as he places an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh before righting himself.

“Or my cock,” he finishes, tilting his head to look her in the face as he takes himself in his own hand.

She gives her head a little shake, not understanding.

He grins wide. “You only get one. Ask for it.”

“Cock,” she says immediately. “Cock, please.”

Astarion can’t help the laugh that spills out of him at her eagerness. He takes her by the waist and pulls her up, spinning her around and nudging her back onto the mattress on her hands and knees. A shudder flows down her back and she arches deep, ready to take him. The pearl of her arousal is so swollen at this point that he can see it peeking from between her folds. Everything between her legs is flushed and shining with want, begging to be touched.

His mouth waters and he swallows it back before coming in close to stand just behind her, taking his cock in hand and barely, barely running the head over her clit.

“Please,” Ori blurts, almost a sob, and this time it sounds genuine. “I need you so badly, sweetheart, please. Wanted your cock all day. Gods, I’ll be good, please fuck me, please.”

“That’s my girl,” he growls as he lines himself up and pushes inside all the way to the hilt.

Ori’s hands slide over the sheets and she deepens her arch even further, crying out her relief and pressing herself back against him as hard as she can, rocking. His mind blanks in pure bliss, eyes rolling, and his body takes over, fucking firmly into her with abandon.

“Gonna be so good,” Ori cries out as she meets him thrust for thrust, fists bunched. “So good for you, promise, I… please, yes.”

“Beautiful brat,” he pants, giving her an open-handed swat on the arse.

Ori yelps and fucks back harder, grinding her clit against him. “Hells, again.”

He swats again and she goes hot and fluttering around him.

“Astarion,” she cries. “Astarion, gods.”

She comes in a languid wave over the length of him and he grunts and curls his body over hers, knee on the mattress as he rides through it.

“Again,” he huffs. He angles his hips to hit her sensitive spot and she howls at the sensation.

“Fucking hells,” she groans. “I don’t…”

Astarion reaches up a hand to cup her chin and lift it so he can put his mouth against her ear. “Good girls come on my cock twice. Again.”

She sounds out the building pressure in bleating little sobs, tears of pleasure forming at the corners of her eyes as he rolls deep inside her, his own end spiraling closer with every passing second.

“Again,” he whispers. “Again.”

Her second orgasm hits twice as hard, a supernova burst that leaves her voiceless, mouth round in a silent scream. An entire day’s worth of tension releases at once, the rush of it dripping from her.

Astarion closes his eyes and lets her pull the pleasure from him. He comes so hard his ears ring from it, tipping gloriously over to the other side and filling her still further until the place where they meet is a complete mess.

He stands there a long moment, listing to one side with his chest heaving, one foot flat on the floor and the other leg bent at the knee on the mattress.

They teeter.

And fall onto the bed in a tangle.

A long moment later, Astarion groans and mumbles, “Hope you learned your lesson.”

“Gonna do it again,” Ori mumbles in response. “So much.”

He wheezes out a laugh.

#astarion smut #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x f!tav #kitten writes #not your sweetheart #bg3

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kalira · 4 months ago

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Six Sentence Sunday

Rules: Post 6 sentences of an unfinished project.

So @mad-madam-m tagged me for this like, in April, oops; I was working a lot on things that were unshareable, though not entirely, and left it in a tab to think about and then, you know. Forgot.

So! Six sentences from a project I'm working on for a @gywo challenge!

‟I missed him, but I had hoped. . .” Maria’s sweet voice, painful in its softness. ‟I had hoped- This is still too soon.” ‟He should have been more careful.” And that voice hurt at least as much. . . Perhaps more, in the end.

Tagging: @navigatorsghost, @vulcan-highblood, @phlebasphoenician, @dawen, @post-and-out, anyone else who would like to play!

(I am aware there is little to none of Sunday left for many people; do it anyway if you want or wait for another Sunday or whatever floats your boat, right?)

#Six Sentence Sunday #WIP #Mad-Madam-M #Requiem et Reminiscence #thanks for the tag!#sorry it apparently took me three months >.>#header made by @scoundrels-in-love and offered free to use

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thehusbandoden · 9 months ago

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Alpha!Bakugo Katsuki x Female!Omega!Reader Headcannons

A/n: aha I'm alive! Let see how long it lasts this time :P

Besides all the smutty stuff others write (which I don't and won't read), I actually like A/B/O dynamics. I would love it if there was more fluffy goodness (and angst 😋).

Let me know if you want more A/B/O and I will happily deliver <3

Genral info:

Genre: fluff/comfort(??) \\ wc: 653 \\ format: headcannons \\ posted: 03/13/24

Warnings!: A/B/O (alpha, beta, omega) dynamics, extreme jealousy, tsundere in the beginning (it's Bakugo.. what do you expect lol), umm mentions of pregnancy? Mentions of marking (not detailed), mentions of y/n's father/father figure, slightly traditional values, idk what else? Ohhh nvm, Bakugo hurting himself (briefly), brief mention of crying, umm extreme guilt? Pls let me know if I miss any! I don't want to accidentally trigger anyone!! <33

Alpha!Bakugo who said that he would never claim an omega.

Alpha!Bakugo who almost fell apart when he first smelt your sweet scent.

Alpha!Bakugo who would glare at any other alpha who dared look at you.

Alpha!Bakugo who smells like sweet caramel.

Alpha!Bakugo whose sweet caramel scent turned into a nasty scent of burning sugar when he saw another alpha ask you out.

Alpha!Bakugo who basically sprinted to the scene, growling and glaring at the other alpha, pushing himself in-between the two of you.

Alpha!Bakugo who almost threw a punch at the smug man’s face.

Alpha!Bakugo who immediately calmed down when he felt your gentle touch on his shoulder.

Alpha!Bakugo whose scent immediately went back to normal when you cooed at him, telling him it was okay.

Alpha!Bakugo who couldn’t do anything but stare at your gorgeous e/c eyes.

Alpha!Bakugo who fell harder than he thought possible.

Alpha!Bakugo who gave you his hoodies and shirts to use in your nest.

Alpha!Bakugo who “accidentally” bumps into you, spreading his scent on top of yours.

Alpha!Bakugo who left a hand crafted “hunting” knife on your desk –with a note- as a courting gift.

“Protect my girl no matter what, you hear? I would hate to kill anyone in my way to get to you and those scoundrels who I would end up torturing to death.”

Alpha!Bakguo who would do anything for his little omega.

Alpha!Bakugo who beat the group of alphas who made fun of you.

Alpha!Bakugo who gave you his everything before you even became his.

Alpha!Bakugo who purred when you officially accepted his courtship.

Alpha!Bakugo who sweat like crazy when he was meeting your parents.

Alpha!Bakugo who made an amazing impression on your father/father figure.

Alpha!Bakugo who asked permission before officially marking you as is.

Alpha!Bakugo who proudly stared at your bond mark.

Alpha!Bakugo who caressed the mark on your neck fondly, kissing your forehead as a thank you for being his.

Alpha!Bakugo who gave you his entire soul.

Alpha!Bakugo who refused to let either of you leave without drowning in the other’s scent.

Alpha!Bakugo who drowned you in his scent when he got jealous.

Alpha!Bakugo who would growl and pull you to his chest whenever he sees another alpha looking at you for too long.

Alpha!Bakugo who got in several fights over other alphas staring at you and/or commenting on your figure.

Alpha!Bakugo who could and would tear the throat out of anyone who dared touch his omega.

Alpha!Bakugo who purred loudly as he watched you nest for the first time.

Alpha!Bakugo who treated your nest with the utter most respect when you let him in your nest for the first time.

Alpha!Bakugo who purred, scenting you lightly in gratitude as he curled up with you in your newly built nest.

Alpha!Bakugo who gave you his pups, purring proudly as he watched your belly grow.

Alpha!Bakugo who would simply lay with you, caressing your swollen belly as he scents you fondly.

Alpha!Bakugo who grew even more protective when you were pregnant with his pups.

Alpha!Bakugo who went overboard when it came to protecting you.

Alpha!Bakugo who would do anything and everything for you.

Alpha!Bakugo who whimpers and begs for forgiveness when he messes up.

Alpha!Bakugo who punched his own jaw when he saw your beautiful e/c eyes fill with tears.

Alpha!Bakugo who backed away from your tender touch, saying he didn’t deserve your concern as you try to check his jaw for bruising.

Alpha!Bakugo who begged for your forgiveness, tears in his own eyes.

Alpha!Bakugo who grew even more concerned as you sobbed into his chest.

Alpha!Bakugo who comforts you whenever and however you need.

Alpha!Bakugo who fired his omega assistant for looking at him too intimately.

Alpha!Bakugo who would rather die a horrid death than ever even look at another omega the way he looks at you.

Alpha!Bakugo who would truly put his life on the line for you in a heartbeat.

~~~~~

Bakugo's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here <3

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

Don't be afraid to request anything at any time. I'm always free to message if you need to vent/talk. <3

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

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thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 2 months ago

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Fire on Fire Part. 2

Description: Aegon struggles to deal with the fact he's in love with his niece, who seems to prefer every other noble boy in the Red Keep to him. When a drunken attempt to illicit her jealousy prompts a heartfelt conversation between the two, Aegon almost gets exactly what he wants, her love. But a disastrous turn of events at Driftmark threatens to tear them apart forever.

Previous part Next part Dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Writer's note: thank you to everyone who read part 1. This part is half fluff half angst, so fair warning. The next part will be after the time jump. I do play around a lot with timings here and Rhaenyra hasn't yet taken her children to dragonstone in this part.

Warnings: female reader. Targcest (Aegon and Rhaenyra's daughter). Characters are 16 and 15 respectfully at this point. Very much frenemies to lovers and heavily inspired by Jude and Cardan in The Folk of the Air series by Holly Black. Long because I don't know when to stop yapping.

The sound of Y/N's laughter met Aegon's ears as he made his way to the morning room to break his fast. He picked up his pace to round the corner and see just what was so funny but almost immediately wished he hadn't. He felt the stirrings of jealousy rise within him and his chest clench as he watched Y/N talking with that same noble boy as before, laughing again at something he'd said. It was thrice he had caught her with the same plain-featured weasel. If she loved the boy, Aegon would strike him down where he stood. She wasn't meant to love anyone but him.

The blood rushed to his cheeks as Y/N caught his eyes and sent him an infuriatingly sly smile. She knew how much her flirting irritated him and yet she persisted. Scowling at her, Aegon forced himself to continue walking past his niece and her admirer, keeping his gaze firmly set before him. He'd managed to avoid glancing at Y/N until he approached close enough to hear their conversation.

"You have the beauty of a lily with your silver hair and delicate features."

Aegon snorted, unable to help himself at how ridiculous a comparison that was. Y/N wasn't soft or fragile like a lily, unable to weather a storm and so easily trampled. She was the blood of the dragon, and her beauty was like that of a fire or a knife inlaid with the rarest of gems. It was made to burn, to cut, to make one feel something. He knew the stupid boy couldn't have a hope of understanding who Y/N truly was, would never appreciate her sharp edges or fierce spirit. And he who cannot handle the thorns should not desire the rose. Aegon ignored the look of contempt Y/N shot him and had nearly made it to the end of the hall when he heard a change in Y/N's pitch he misliked.

"No."

"Why not? I thought you liked me." He turned back to see her gently push the nobleman away from her with a hand on his chest. The boy looked like he had come perilously close to stealing a kiss, an act he would have paid for. Y/N was not his to kiss. She was a princess...more specifically Aegon's princess. And that thought had Aegon marching back whence he'd come, his features set in a scathing glare.

He used his momentum to roughly shove the boy away from Y/N.

"You presume to touch the princess, you swine? To sully her lips with yours. You baseless prick."

He felt Y/N gently tug on his sleeve, but he paid her no mind, only continued to scorch the noble boy with his eyes.

"I apologise my Prince. I meant no offence. Princess." And with a respectful nod at his niece, the boy hurried back down the hallway.

"Thank you."

Aegon turned to look at Y/N, prepared for sarcasm, for a rebuke at the extremity of his actions, but not her timid look as she fixed her gaze on her jewel embroidered slippers.

Aegon disliked seeing her like this, and he wanted to ask her whether she was alright, whether the scoundrel had tried anything like that before. But his jealousy and anger won out, as it so often did when it came to Y/N.

"You should be more discerning about who you spend your time with, niece."

Her head snapped up, her eyes fierce once again and her words venomous.

"If you're going to be like that then I certainly don't want to be around you, uncle. I don't even like you anyway."

Ah, there was that fire he so admired. Aegon smiled at her as she passed by him, shouting after her, "Yes, you do."

Aegon was more than a little amused to find Y/N was still cross with him as they listened to instructions from the dragonkeepers in the pit. Each time he attempted to catch her eye she was already frowning at him, and would quickly look away, pointedly ignoring him.

He generally let his mind go blank as the dragon keepers droned on, but his interest was sparked as he heard them discussing Y/N attempting her first flight on Grey Ghost. Two of the keepers were considering whether it would be better to ask Rhaenyra of Laenor to ride up with her and ensure her safety, when he stepped forward and interrupted them.

"I'll take her up."

Y/N sidled up to him

"No he won't."

Aegon turned to shoot her what he must have been an infuriatingly condescending smirk, for he could see her clench her fists on response.

"You either play with the children and their baby dragons or you come with me. What's it to be?" He glanced pointedly in the direction of her brothers, whose dragons were still too young to ride far.

Y/N huffed resignedly.

"Fine."

Aegon grinned at her triumphantly.

"Excellent. Let's go then Quelos."

Then he took hold of her wrist, dragging her towards where the dragonkeepers had shepherded Grey Ghost and Sunfyre, ignoring the uneasy looks the keepers exchanged. Sod them. Y/N was perfectly safe with him.

Getting Y/N to actually mount her dragon presented a bigger challenge. She'd spent what felt like an eternity staring at the ladder hanging off Grey Ghost's saddle, and he could practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

"You do know how to climb right?"

Y/N whipped round, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Of course I do."

"Thank the seven. I had thought you'd forgotten how to use your limbs at all."

Y/N looked like she was trying very hard don't to slap him. Aegon only shot her a smile that showed far too much teeth for it to be kind.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, turning back to approach the ladder and place her hands on the first rung. She didn't look back at him as she spoke

"And if I fall to my death?"

"Then I'll have far less food launched at me at supper."

When he caught a slight tremble in her hands as they gripped the ladder, he relented.

"Grey Ghost won't let you fall, and I'll be up there with you on Sunfyre in case you're stupid enough to fall off. You'll be fine."

Y/N fixed him with a look of exasperation. Any comfort he offered her would always have an edge of mischief to it. Nonetheless, she climbed the first few rungs before stopping only a foot up from the ground.

Walking up to where Y/N stood he patted the back of her leg encouragingly, feeling how tense she was through her riding leathers.

"Up you go."

Y/N looked down at him with widened eyes, likely shocked at his presumption to touch her like that.

"I'm not a dog, Aegon."

Her rebuke carried little import for Aegon as her face curiously flushed. Was she blushing? More specifically was she blushing because he'd touched her? He removed his hand quickly, realising he'd kept it there for far longer than was appropriate. Shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts, Y/N began to climb in earnest, not stopping until she reached the top of Grey Ghost's back, swinging her leg over to settle in the saddle.

Aegon patted Grey Ghost's thick scales. "Look after her, there's a good dragon."

Then he turned to mount his own dragon, which took significantly less time.

"Right. Look how I'm holding Sunfyre's reigns. This is how you get your dragon to move and direct them as you wish." He demonstrated each movement slowly to Y/N who was watching him attentively.

"your dragon will have a sense of what you want, so you can rely on your bond for the most part. The order to fly is 'Soves'. You try."

Y/N squared her shoulders and gripped Grey Ghost's reigns, facing forward and issuing her command with determination.

"Grey Ghost, soves." The dragon responded instantly, breaking into a run before taking to the skies.

Aegon followed quickly after, keen to keep an eye on his niece, being the more experienced rider.

As they rose higher and higher into the clouds over King's Landing, he laughed to see Y/N gripping her reigns for dear life, every muscle tensed.

He shouted to her so she could hear him over the wind and flapping of their dragons' wings "Relax Quelos. Feel the wind on your face and the power of the beast beneath you. See how small King's Landing looks from this height. We are gods among men."

He through his arms and head back behind him, letting out a laugh of exaltation at the familiar feeling of flying with Sunfyre. There was nothing quite like soaring high above the clouds. He felt like nothing could touch him here, none of the expectations imposed upon him as a Prince, nor the judgements of his mother and the dismissive looks of his father. Up here it was just him and his dragon...and now Y/N. Aegon suddenly imagined this would be something they'd do if they were married. They'd take to the skies together, share in the singular joy of dragon riding that only a Targaryen could experience, flying high over King's Landing so that all the small folk would see them and their dragons and know they belonged to one another.

Glancing at Y/N, he was pleased to see she'd relaxed considerably and looked like she was actually enjoying herself. When she let out a carefree laugh, patting her dragon and urging him to rise higher into the sky, Aegon followed without hesitation.

Y/N had grown in confidence as she grew accustomed to flying on dragonback, and challenged Aegon to a race back to the dragon pit. He'd been all too willing to oblige and they left the pit after dismounting their dragons playfully shoving each other's sides as they bickered over who had actually won.

Just as they were about to enter the Red Keep, Aegon stopped Y/N.

"Wait a moment, Quelos."

Raising his hand he picked a stray leaf from her hair before tucking a strand of hair that had escaped her elaborate braid behind her ear.

Y/N stilled, staring up at him with a dazed expression.

An award silence ensued which had Aegon regretting his brash actions and clearing his throat to break it.

"You look a mess. It's off putting actually."

Y/N glared at him, whatever spell that had kept her frozen in place breaking as she turned on her heel to storm up the stairs and into the Red Keep, nose upturned haughtily. Aegon stared wistfully after her, wishing he could just damn well say something nice to her for once.

From that day onwards, Y/N would only fly out with Aegon, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him to the dragon pit with her whenever she wanted. This pleased Aegon to no end, seeing it as another way in which they were irrevocably connected to one another.

News of Laena Velaryon's death reached the Red Keep, and it was decided that the royal family would travel to driftmark for her funeral. Aegon had never met Laena, his concern lay with his niece, who seemed to take the news harder than he would have expected.

As they played a game of Cyvasse, Aegon could no longer ignore her melancholy expression.

"Is it your aunt?"

She looked up from the board, seemingly having been lost in her own thoughts. He misliked her going off in her head to a place he could not follow.

"What?"

"Your aunt Laena. Is that why you're so glum?"

Y/N shook her head, playing with the end of her braid, a nervous gesture she'd taken to as a child.

"You might think me selfish. But it is not the Lady Laena I mourn for. It is Harwin Strong. We never got to mourn him properly, it wouldn't have been appropriate mother said. We weren't even able to bury him."

Aegon, in an uncharacteristic display of empathy, reached over and took her hand, interlocking their fingers as he'd tried to do only once before. This time, she didn't pull away from him, and he knew then the depth of her grief for her to accept comfort from him.

"I don't think your selfish. He was...he meant a lot to you and my sister."

Shit. Aegon had almost said what everyone had always known but never voiced. That Harwin Strong was Y/N's father, the father of all Rhaenyra's children. Y/N was clever. She must know. But Aegon felt there was a silent pact between them that they could throw jibes at each other as much as they liked as long as they did not cross this one line.

"You're surprisingly good at this."

"I'm good at a great deal of things. You'll have to be more specific."

"No, you're not. Don't lie. I meant you're good at comforting someone when they're upset. Thank you."

"You wound me Quelos. But, you're welcome."

He squeezed her hand one last time before retracting it to gesture back to the Cyvasse board.

"Now hurry up and make your move so I can take your castle with my dragon."

Aegon couldn't shake his concern for Y/N as he watched her mope about the Red Keep in the days before the Lady Laena's funeral. Though, he tried to convince himself he was starting to act just like those lovesick fools in Y/N's books. If only he could find a way to distract her, cheer her up. The perfect opportunity arose the day before they would set of for Driftmark.

Aegon had fortuitously tripped over a wine goblet he'd carelessly tossed on the floor, only to fall against the wall by his bed, gripping onto the nearest sconce to steady himself. Only a moment later, the wall gave way and Aegon fell into a darkened passage. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the passage was long and branched off in different directions. Quickly righting himself, he brushed the dust of his tunic and grabbed a candle, choosing a path and following it to see where it lead. After a short time, he spotted ridges in the wall that signalled this was another secret entrance and peaking through a small hole he could see it entered into Aemond's room. Aegon smirked. For once, his drunken tendencies and clumsiness had been useful. He knew just how to distract Y/N. With an afternoon of adventuring.

Aegon bounded up to Y/N excitedly as he finally found her reading one-off her novels in the godswood. Grabbing her by the elbows, he pulled her up and wasted no time in taking her hand to pull her along with him.

"Come on little star, I have something to show you."

Y/N looked startled by his abruptness and a little ruffled by his manhandling of her. Though this was hardly new, he never treated her like a porcelain doll as the other members of court did.

"What is it?"

"A surprise."

Y/N yanked her hand back, though Aegon refused to let her go.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not. The last time you said you had a surprise for me, you put one of Helaena's tarantulas in my hand."

Aegon rolled his eyes.

"It's not like that this time. Don't you trust me?"

"Decidedly not. I'm not stupid."

Groaning at her stubbornness, Aegon leaned down to look her in the eyes.

"I give you my word as a Prince of the realm that I won't allow any harm to come to you...and there are no spiders involved this time."

Y/N searched his eyes for a few seconds before seeming to decide he was telling the truth, her arm loosening as she stopped resisting him.

"Fine then. I'll set Jacaerys on you if you are lying though."

"Ha. I'd like to see that." Y/N followed him wordlessly after that until they reached the door to his chambers where she suddenly stopped and frowned at him sternly.

"There's not going to be any funny business is there?"

Glancing from her face to his door Aegon scoffed as he realised what she meant.

"Do you have any faith in me whatsoever?"

"Absolutely none."

Aegon huffed, a little hurt by this.

"Well that stings. But no, I would never take advantage of you." He looked at her seriously, urging her to believe he wouldn't joke about something like that. He wanted her to feel for him one day, wanted to be able to kiss her...marry her. But he wanted her to want him too.

Y/N relented and gestured towards the door.

"OK then. Lead the way."

Aegon leaned back, rocking on his heels as he awaited Y/N's response to the passageway opening, having explained how he'd found it.

"Well, what do you think?"

Y/N looked back at him, mouth opened partially in shock before she abruptly closed it.

"Aegon. This...is brilliant."

He positively beamed at her, not used to such praise, but happy to have impressed her with his discovery.

"It would be a shame to leave all those passages unexplored, don't you think?"

Y/N shot him a sly, conspiratorial look.

"An awful shame." And for the first time, Y/N held her hand out to him, inviting him to take it. He'd never moved so fast, interlacing their fingers quickly. It felt more intimate to hold her hand that way somehow.

Aegon tried to shush Y/N's giggles as they looked through a peephole into the council room and overheard Lord Tyland Lannister getting a talking down by his grandsire the Hand. But he himself was laughing so hard, it had turned into pained wheezes that left him clutching his stomach. Y/N was only making it worse as she mimicked the Lannister Lord's face.

"What was that noise?" King Viserys looked about him, clearly having heard their muffled laughter.

Aegon's eyes widened and he gently started pushing Y/N away from the peephole and further down the passageway.

When he thought they'd successfully found the entrance to his chambers again he pushed through with a sigh of relief, but froze as he realised he'd been mistaken...for there was his sister Rhaenyra packing belongings into a trunk for the journey on the morrow. This was not his room. He felt Y/N's skirts brush against his leg and quickly pushed her back through the entryway, closing the passageway with the sconce just before Rhaenyra turned to look at him, eyes wide with shock at his sudden apparition. He was glad at least that Y/N had not been caught if he was about to be told off for snooping.

"Aegon?"

"I'm sorry...sister." The word felt strange to describe their relationship. He'd been raised to be suspicious of her, to fear her even. But he did not want to. He stumbled over his words, trying to provide an explanation for his appearance in her room.

"I discovered this secret passage and was just exploring. I didn't mean to intrude upon you, I thought this was my room."

A strange expression came over Rhaenyra's face, her eyes glazing over slightly like she was remembering something. To his surprise, she did not shout at him or rebuke him at all.

"That is alright. I myself discovered the passage when I was about your age just exercise more discretion when you're exploring." This was the longest they'd held a conversation that Aegon could remember. And he felt himself wanting to grasp for more, for a reality in which they could have just been brother and sister.

"Thank you, Rhaenyra." The ghost of a smile lit her features at his appellation of her name.

"I remember when you couldn't say my name. You couldn't form the vowels properly so I taught you how to say it when you were 2."

Aegon felt his heart clench at the thought.

"I wish I could remember." He wished for more than that. He sought for something to say to Rhaenyra, anything to express his earnest wish they could form a sibling bond. After all, he wished to marry her daughter one day. But nothing came.

"Off you go, then."

The brisk morning air sent a shiver through Aegon as he made his way up the ramp to the galley that would take them to Driftmark. He could have flown there on Sunfyre, but Rhaenyra had forbidden Y/N from making the flight herself, saying it wouldn't be fair to her brothers whose dragons were too young to make the journey. And so he'd opted to stay with Y/N.

Aegon came to regret this choice later that day as the little she devil didn't seem grateful to have his company in the slightest, all but slamming the door to her cabin in his face.

"No, Aegon."

"Why not?"

He'd been trying to convince her to play a game of Cyvasse with him for the last half hour, but she'd positioned her body in her doorway blocking his entrance.

"I just don't feel up to it.

Aegon smirked at her.

"Coward. You just think you'll lose."

To his surprise, Y/N didn't bite back a smart retort.

"See this line right here?" She pointed at the slight inclination in ground level at the foot of her doorway.

"You stay on your side, and i'll stay on mine."

And in his shock at such a cold rebuttal, Y/N was able to slam her door shut before Aegon could stop her. He sulked off unhappily to his own room. Perhaps she really was feeling unwell. She had looked a little paler, perhaps.

Aegon grew truly concerned the next morning when Y/N didn't emerge from her chambers. He was bored and wanted her company, after all he had opted for the boat expressly to spend time with her. Hours passed, and his eyes kept flitting to her door as he sat on deck, so he made the decission to check on her.

He rapped his knuckles on her door impatiently, calling out to her.

"Go away." Aegon frowned. There was really no need and no explanation for her animosity. But then he heard the unmistakable sounds of vomiting and realised why Y/N hadn't wanted him in her chambers the night before or now.

"Are you sick?"

"Obviously, idiot." Alarmed by how weak Y/N's insult sounded, Aegon pushed his way through the door.

"Then I'm coming in."

He shut the door quickly behind him, turning around to see Y/N crouched over a bucket, looking as green as his mother's House colours.

"You look awful."

Y/N scowled.

"Ugh, don't you always think that anyway?"

Her face contorted with pain and she had to lean over to heave into the bucket again. Aegon moved towards her, gently pulling her hair back from her face and stroking her back. When she'd finished he grabbed her wrist, dragging her to sit on the bed.

"Sit."

Y/N was leant forward, her hand on her forehead.

"Still not a dog, Aegon. You can't order me about."

"Are you sure? You're doing an awful lot of yapping for being not a dog."

"I will hit you."

Aegon winked at her, pleased she was feeling well enough to bicker with him. She was not dying at least.

"I don't doubt it."

Removing the bucket from the room and leaving it outside for a servant to deal with, he returned to start gathering cloths and wetting them in a dish of water.

"What are you doing?" Y/N questioned him inquisitively.

"Helping."

He lightly pressed her shoulders so she would have to lie down and began dabbing at her face with the cool cloths, leaving one pressed against her forehead. He made her take some sips of water from a goblet he handed her for good measure.

"Better?"

"Yes. Though thoroughly embarrassed at having such pathetic sea legs considering my father is a Velaryon."

Aegon didn't know what to say to that. To him, it made perfect sense that Y/N would not be suited totally to the sea like a true Velaryon. She was made of fire and blood. So he said nothing, and a silence ensued, broken by Y/N.

"I'm bored."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Read to me."

"No."

"Please."

"Still no."

"But my head hurts and I can't keep my eyes open."

"It'll pass."

If she thought she was just going to bat her eyelashes at him and get whatever she wanted...

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, looking at him imploringly, and Aegon caved.

"Oh fine then. What drivel do you have stashed away for me to read?" He approached the pile of books by her bedside table, flicking through their contents to find the least unappealing.

"Despicable, disgusting, simpering fool. Quelos, I'd say you should be ashamed but I never had that much faith in your reading tastes anyway.

"If you're going to be mean then leave." Y/N crossed her arms, looking genuinely embarrassed by his assessment of her literary tastes.

Smirking at her, he picked a book at random from the pile and settled down in the chair beside her to read. He surprised himself by how much he enjoyed reading to her, changing the pitch of his voice for different characters and performing a pretty compelling reenactment of the scorned lover's appeal for forgiveness, he thought. He was so animated that he didn't realise when Y/N had fallen asleep. He'd never seen her look so peaceful, and he realised it was because she wasn't scowling at him. He thought she looked lovely, ethereal even, but he much preferred when she was awake to glare at him. It was so much more fun, and deep down, he thought it was a mark of affection that was wholly theirs.

He must have fallen asleep not long after, for he awoke to find Y/N sitting up and reading, looking much better than she had.

"You snore very loudly."

"No I don't." Aegon frowned. He didn't think he did at least.

"How do you know?"

"Heathen." There was no malice in the insult, but a tenderness.

"First I'm ugly, then I'm a dog, now a heathen. I've had an interesting metamorphosis on this trip."

"You're not." Aegon replied before he could stop himself.

"Not?"

"Ugly. You're beautiful."

"You think I'm pretty?" No, he did not think her pretty. He thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Pretty wasn't enough for her.

"Beautiful. I said beautiful. Pretty is a pathetic word for what you are. If you wanted someone to call you pretty you should have asked that prick you've been spending so much time with."

Y/N looked momentarily stunned, then a flash of hurt crossed her features.

"He's not a prick. Are you making fun of me?"

Aegon felt his blood heat at her defence of the bastard he'd warned off her only a short while ago. Then, he was angry at her for seeming to prefer every other boy in the Keep over him, no matter what he did.

He rose to stand, only glancing back at her once he'd reached her door, one hand on the door knob.

"If you like."

Aegon steadfastly avoided Y/N for the rest of the journey, and once they reached Driftmark, he immediately set to getting as drunk as humanely possible. He gulped down cup after cup of wine, though he winced as it burned down his throat. He tried to ignore the disapproving looks Y/N kept shooting him, as well as the droning chatter of the other guests around him. Aemond came to stand by him quietly. "Whats happened between you and our niece?"

Was he really so transparent? Aegon downed another cup of wine before answering.

"Nothing. Why do you say that?"

"Because it looks like you're trying very hard to drink yourself to death, and you won't stop staring at each other."

Aegon frowned at the validity of his brother's assessment, his shoulders stiffening as he saw Y/N approaching them. When she was in hearing range, he raised his voice and turned to Aemond.

"She's not to my tastes, brother. I prefer creatures with very long legs." Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Y/N halt in her tracks, a look of hurt passing over her features, before she walked back in the opposite direction to rejoin her brothers. Aegon had wanted to make her jealous...to make her want him. But as so often was the case, his words had had the opposite effect, and she only seemed to hate him more.

Aegon sank down onto the steps overlooking the blackwater, letting his head fall back on the stone wall, his head beginning to ache and his vision to swim.

"You're drunk."

Aegon tilted his head to look at Y/N, though it was difficult to make out her figure in the oppressive darkness.

"Yes. The wine is good. What of it?"

The wine wasn't good. It was bitter and acrid, and burned Aegon's throat. But he had drank cup after cup nonetheless. He didn't drink it for the taste, but to forget his worries; the pressing weight of his mother's expectations, the bitterness he carried within him in the face of father's complete disregard for him, and the pain he felt at Y/N's inability to love him. His niece sank down next to him, her shoulder pressing against his as she leant her head against the wall with him to look up at the starless sky. Obfuscated by dark grey clouds, even the sky seemed sinister tonight.

"You don't have to be like this, you know." Y/N didn't have to clarify. He knew she meant his self-destructive behaviour and tendency to lash out when in pain. They'd always understood each other too well for any pretence. But he did wish she wouldn't be so direct about it. If she couldn't love him, then couldn't she at least let him drown himself in wine and sulk as he pleased? That was what the rest of his family did.

"Yes I do."

Y/N sighed, looked sadly at him with her beautiful eyes...her painfully beautiful eyes that haunted his every waking thought. He wished she would close them or direct them elsewhere so he didn't have to look at them.

"You pretend to be awful, but I know it's all just an elaborate charade..."

He interrupted her before she could finish. He didn't like where this was going. It was too raw, too vulnerable. He was too vulnerable under her penetrative stare.

"Maybe I am awful." It was better for her to dislike him, hate him even, than pity him. Her indifference to him he could just about bear...her pity he could not. He was pathetic to his grandsire, a disappointment to his mother, and nothing at all to his father. He couldn't be nothing to Y/N. A source of irritation, the object of her ire perhaps, but not nothing.

"No, you're not. You're my best friend."

Friend. The word rang sickeningly in Aegon's mind, only worsening his headache.

"Don't say that." He gritted out.

"What?"

"I don't want to be your friend." He watched her face fall at his unexpected animosity. She was innocent to her power to hurt him with just the idea that she saw him only as a friend. It wasn't her fault, but he couldn't bear for her to state it so assuredly. Was there not even a part of her that felt for him as he did her?

"Oh. I thought..."

"Well you thought wrong."

Panic tore through Aegon as Y/N brushed off her skirts and rose to leave, her face oddly scrunched up like she was trying hard not to cry. Against his better judgement, Aegon grabbed her hand in a vice like grip, pulling her back down next to him.

He despised how broken his own voice sounded to his ears as he whispered a silent plea.

"Don't leave. I'm sorry."

He didn't loosen his grip on her hand till he felt her relax, her arm brushing his again. He found even this touch comforting, a reassurance that someone cared about him, even if it was not in the way he wished. He was glad his mind was somewhat befuddled by his overindulgence of Velaryon wine. It made it easier for him to pretend Y/N loved him too.

"Why are you trying so hard to act like you hate me, only to apologise immediately afterwards. It seems awfully exhausting." Aegon smiled sadly at her. Of course she knew it was an act. She knew everything about him.

"Because I'd rather hate you than feel as I truly do for you. It's insufferable."

"What do you mean, Aegon?" And suddenly, he couldn't stand her ignorance to his own feelings, whether it was willful or not. If he had to suffer them, then she did too.

"I mean that everytime I see you with another stupid boy I want to feed him to Sunfyre, and I don't know whether I want to shout at you or kiss you stupid until you don't want to look at another boy ever again."

Y/N's mouth parted open in shock, her gasp only seeming to reaffirm what Aegon already felt he knew deep within his bones. She did not feel the same.

"So why don't you?"

Aegon stared at her, searching for anything that would give away the game she must surely be playing.

"You don't see me that way. Like you said. I'm your best friend." His voice was laced with sarcasm, the word 'friend' tasting like the bitter Velaryon wine on his tongue

"What if I did?"

"Did what?" He let his eyes flutter closed, tired of this game. It wasn't fun for him.

"Want you to kiss me?"

He jumped upright. She couldn't be serious. And yet she didn't look like she found any of this funny. He didn't dare to hope.

"Don't play with me, Y/N. Not now."

"I'm not...for once. I never liked any of those stupid boys as you call them. I just wanted you to look at me, really see me. As a girl you might love rather than just your little niece."

Aegon felt like he was walking in a dream, perhaps a symptom of the alcohol running through his bloodstream that was making him slightly lightheaded. He grinned at the girl in front of him, who might just be his girl after all.

"So you like me as well."

Y/N wrinkled her nose at him.

"Like is a strong word."

Aegon took her hand, chasing her eyeline as she shifted awkwardly under his gaze. She looked shy for once, her cheeks dusted with a lovely shade of pink.

"I think you might actually be madly in love with me based on how red your face is."

"It's rude to comment on a lady's appearance like that, Aegon. And don't get ahead of yourself."

He smirked cockily at her, feeling his confidence grow.

"You like it when I'm rude. Besides, I'm quite the catch."

Y/N scoffed, wrenching her hand from his, though he quickly reclaimed it.

"I'll have you know I'm very much sought after and admired in the Keep. Didn't you see how taken that nobleman was with me?"

Aegon tilted his head down, whispering against Y/N's ear.

"I remember you looking at me when he was looking at you."

Y/N's eyes widened, though she did not deny it. Aegon felt a rush of excitement pass through him, felt the blood pounding in his ears as he saw her eyes flit to his lips.

Right then Aegon decided he'd teased Y/N enough. Now he wanted to reassure her of how he felt about her.

"I think I'm a little in love with you actually. I'd better kiss you to be sure." He tried to sound playful, light hearted. But he so wanted her to say yes.

Y/N looked nervous for a moment before smiling at him

"OK."

Aegon moved slowly, just in case Y/N wanted to change her mind, shifting closer to kneel before her. He tentatively placed a hand on her waist, more gentle than he thought himself capable of, and pressed his lips to her briefly. Pulling away to guage her reaction, he nearly laughed when he saw that her eyes were shut, her long eyelashes grazing her cheeks as she tilted her head up, seeking his lips. Then he kissed her again, more fervently this time, until she started to move her lips against his with a degree of clumsiness he found endearing before finding a rhythm. He'd kissed other girls before, though not one of them had mattered to him, and he never much cared for it. Kissing Y/N made him feel like all his nerves were on fire, and each brush of her soft lips against his as they moulded together made him feel an elation quite like flying on dragonback..like he was soaring. Y/N shifting suddenly pulled him from his joy, and he pulled away, concerned he'd stepped too far.

"What's wrong?"

Y/N looked sheepish, toying with the rings on her fingers.

"I don't know where to put my hands."

Aegon smiled tenderly at her.

"Anywhere."

He kissed her again but quickly grew distracted by her continued fidgeting. He'd expressly granted her permission to touch him and was more than a little disappointed she hadn't taken him up on his offer. Taking hold of her hands himself, he placed them on his shoulders. Y/n relaxed against him then, gripping his shoulders to pull him closer. He shuddered under even this innocent touch, feeling overwhelmed by the reality that Y/N loved him.

Y/N pulled away to catch her breath, pushing against his shoulders so she could look up into his face. "Well? Are you in love with me or not?"

Aegon pretended to think. "inconclusive. Perhaps we should try again to be sure." Y/N promptly hit him on the arm, hard. Of course, he'd fall in love with such a heathen. Aegon wrapped his arms around her, pressing their foreheads together. He wanted her to know he was only jesting. Of course he loved her.

"Yes, you silly girl."

Aegon stroked her cheek experimentally, only having read about such affectionate gestures in the ridiculous novels Y/N had forced him to read to her. He did still hope he was doing it right.

"I'm going to marry you one day."

"Are you now?"

Aegon blinked. Shit. Perhaps that was too far or he sounded too sure of himself, too possessive. He quickly fumbled to amend the error.

"Only if you want to...then I'll go and talk to our mothers."

Y/N laughed at him, leaning forward to rest her head against his shoulder, causing him to still completely.

"I think you'd better. Maybe when you've sobered up a bit. You're slurring a little now, my stupid boy." And the way she called him hers had Aegon leaning forward to kiss her again.

The young prince and princess entered the Velaryon halls hand in hand. Though Aegon felt something was wrong almost immediately as he heard raised voices. They followed the direction of the voices, being admitted by a pair of knights. Aegon dropped Y/N's hand at the sight before him, horrified by the blood covering his brother's face and the gaping wound where his eye should have been. His mother was shouting, but he couldn't make out what had happened amongst the din. Glancing around the room, he could see that Jace and Luke were also covered in blood, though with no visible injuries. What could possibly have happened in the space of time he'd been absent?

Aegon rushed over to his mother.

"What's happened?"

She pointed angrily in the direction of his nephews.

"They attacked your brother, took his eye. Where were you when your brother was being set upon?" She slapped him then, and Aegon looked at her in shock. He heard a gasp and looked to see Y/N over by her brothers, her hand covering her mouth. A wave of guilt swept over him. He'd been with her, and for a moment, he had been truly happy. But he couldn't say that the reason he had not been there to defend his brother was because he'd been too busy kissing and confessing his love to his niece.

He lowered his head to the ground with shame, standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

His mother turned away from him as the doors burst open to admit Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, and Corlys.

"What is the meaning of this." The sea snake's voice boomed across the hall, and the room erupted with noise as each party sought to tell their side first.

Aegon got the gist of it eventually that Aemond had claimed Vhagar to Baela's displeasure, that a brawl had broken out and Aemond had been left to fend off four children single handedly before Lucerys Velaryon cut out his eye. Aegon felt appalled at his nephew's actions and then with himself for not being there to stop them.

"He called us bastards."

Aegon's head snapped up at Jacaerys' accusation, feeling panic creep in. They had never addressed the fact so directly before. It was the worst kept secret in Kings Landing, but a secret nonetheless. Viserys approached Aemond, a dangerous look on his mottled face.

"Where did you hear such vile accusations? Tell me, Aemond."

Aegon watched as Aemond's eye shifted to their mother, their father following his eyeline. He silently prayed that Aemond wouldn't say he had heard it from their mother. Aegon didn't know what Viserys would do to her if he knew she'd spoken badly of Rhaenyra, ever father's favourite.

"Aegon"

Aegon's eyes widened, his whole body tensing as Viserys turned his gaze on him instead.

"Me?"

"And where did you hear such lies, boy." Aegon couldn't think of an answer, which only seemed to anger his father more as he shouted into his face, making him jump. "Aegon!"

He wouldn't implicate his mother in this, and so there was only one thing for him to do. He had to tell the truth his father refused to accept. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with Y/N, trying to express to her without words how sorry he was for what he was about to say.

"We know, father. Everyone knows. Just look at them."

He wanted Y/N to know that he didn't mean her. Never her. She was different, a true Targaryen no matter her parentage. But he had to choose his brother, his mother, and to watch Y/N's face that had only a short while ago looked at him with love fall at his betrayal.

"This interminable infighting must cease. We are a family. Now make your apologies."

Aegon felt disgust at his father's dismissal of Aemond's suffering, simply telling them to make their apologies. He'd lost an eye, it could never be so simple.

"That is not sufficient. My son has lost an eye."

Aegon shifted closer to his mother as she argued with his father, preparing to step between them if Viserys raised a hand to her.

"What would you have me do?" Perhaps acknowledge your other children, Aegon thought bitterly.

"There is a debt to be paid I shall have one of her son's eyes in return." Aegon felt his heart begin to beat faster with fear at what his father would do at such a suggestion, feeling his shoulders sag in relief when Ser Criston refused to take Luke's eye. His relief was short-lived as his mother grabbed his father's dagger from its sheath and made as if to take the boy's eye herself. With adrenaline fuelling him, he quickly crossed the room and took hold of Y/N's arm, pulling her out of the way though she struggled against him.

"Let me go."

"Not until it's safe."

Aegon gasped as his mother cut Rhaenyra, a heavy silence enveloping the room.

In his shock his grip on Y/N loosened and she tried to get out of his hold. He quickly made a grab for her wrist to stop her.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I had to say it."

She yanked her arm away from him, her voice like ice.

"You as good as called me a bastard."

"You have to understand Y/N. My father, gods know what he would have done to my brother, my mother."

Nothing he said seemed to help. Y/N's eyes were welling up with tears and she wouldn't even look at him.

Placing a hand on her waist, he whispered a desperate plea for only her to hear.

"Please, Quelos. You know I love you."

She took hold of his hand only to remove it from her waist, taking a step back from him.

"No I don't."

And then she was rushing away from him to catch up with her mother and brothers, leaving Aegon there to stare after her.

Aegon paced outside his mother's quarters, waiting for his grandsire Otto to leave so he could speak with her. Otto seemed surprised to find him there once he emerged from her chambers, the hour was late. But he said nothing as he set off down the hall and Aegon entered his mother's chambers before the door had even swung shut.

"Mother, I must speak with you."

His mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Not now, Aegon."

He closed the door behind him.

"It cannot wait. I've come to request your permission to marry Y/N Velaryon."

His mother gawked at him, grasping blindly behind her to steady herself on a chair.

"What can you mean by this? You wish to marry the girl whose brother maimed your own this very evening?"

Aegon flinched at the harshness in her voice.

"It would surely help to put an end to the conflict between the two sides of our family...and I love her, mother."

"I will not allow you to sully yourself by marrying one of your sister's bastard children. You are a true born Targaryen. Y/N is not worthy of any of my sons."

Aegon straightened his shoulders.

"Don't speak about her like that, mother."

She looked shocked at him talking back to her like that, but it pained him to hear his mother speak badly of the girl he loved.

"That's the end of the conversation, Aegon. We're leaving tomorrow."

"But, mother..."

"Now, Aegon. Get to bed."

Turning from him to gaze into the fire, Aegon realised with a heavy heart that his mother would hear no more of his plea for Y/N's hand that night, and he quietly left the room.

Neither Rhaenyra nor her children were on the boat home to the King's Landing the next day, and Aegon leant over the deck railings staring at Driftmark as it faded into the distance. He hated having to go even another day without speaking to Y/N, knowing she must still be angry with him. How could everything have turned to ash so quickly, all of his hopes and dreams turning to cinders. But she would have to return to King's Landing for her dragon. They all would. He would make her understand then...

Days passed, and there was still no sign of Y/N returning. His mother continued to avoid answering his questions about when Rhaenyra would return, and all of his attempts to bring up a marriage between himself and Y/N.

There was a heavy mist covering King's Landing when Rhaenyra finally returned with her children. Aegon had woken to find servants milling about the hallways carrying objects from Rhaenyra's room and from Y/N's, much to his confusion. He'd headed to his mother's chambers to find out what was happening.

"Your sister is taking her children to live on Dragonstone. She returned this morning to arrange for the transportation of her belongings and for her children's dragons. She has likely left by now."

Aegon had dashed from the room, sprinting down the stairwell that led to the main courtyard. Surely his mother had to be wrong. Rhaenyra wouldn't even let Jace and Luke fly their dragons to Driftmark. Dragonstone was a similar distance. Y/N couldn't be gone.

But he was too late. Out of breath from his exhertions, he looked up to the skies only to sight Rhaneyra's dragon Syrax in the distance and the unmistakable grey scales of Y/N's dragon as they flew over King's Landing. And as he watched on, Grey Ghost's scales blended with the mist until he could no longer see them.

Quelos~ Star

This was so ridiculously long! Even if something seems unimportant it will be later.

Onto the time jump...

Tagging:

@callsignwidow @lady-dragon-rider

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #aegon targaryen oneshot #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen fanfic

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helenstella · 2 years ago

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“It always tastes better from another fellow’s plate” - Dolokhov 😈

Tom Burke as Fedya Dolokhov in War & Peace, Episode 2 (2016)

#tom burke #fedya dolokhov #fyodor dolokhov #war and peace #war & peace #dolokhov #the scoundrel #i love him

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diamonddaze01 · 27 days ago

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The Somerset Affair | Chapter 1: Whispers in the Garden

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.2k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: CHAPTER 1 IS FINALLY HEREEEE // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // 2nd chapter will be up soon!!!

summary: lee seokmin is a scoundrel for having beaten your brother at fencing. or... is he?

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here!

Age 8

Mayfair is alive today. The Somerset estate hums with energy, a ripple of excitement passing through the gathered crowd, their eyes all fixed on the fencing match taking place in the wide, manicured garden. The afternoon sun casts a golden haze over the scene, warming the air and wrapping everything in a soft, honeyed glow. Laughter and chatter float like music across the grounds, underscored by the occasional ring of steel clashing against steel. The sweet fragrance of roses drifts on the light breeze, mingling with the fresh scent of cut grass. You sit near the front, your small hands gripping the edge of your chair, bouncing with excitement as you watch your older brother, Minghao, spar against a boy you've never seen before.

This new boy stands tall, his dark hair tousled in the breeze, and a sharp determination shines in his eyes. The way he moves—it’s confident, with an energy that seems far beyond his years. Your brother, usually so self-assured, falters as the boy steps onto the mat. A flicker of unease passes through you, twisting in your stomach. You can feel the tension, see it in the way Minghao adjusts his grip on his sword. The match begins, and every time the swords collide, the sound reverberates through your chest. Your heart sinks a little more with each point your brother loses, and soon, the inevitable happens—the newcomer disarms Minghao with a flourish so smooth it draws gasps and murmurs from the audience.

"Such skill!" someone whispers, while others erupt in applause, their cheers filling the air. But you remain still, arms crossed tightly over your chest, brows drawn into a deep frown. How dare this boy defeat your brother? And so effortlessly! You want to scowl, to hold on to your anger, but the sound of the crowd’s cheers washes over you, making your resentment grow.

Seokmin—that’s his name, you overhear—steps forward, offering Minghao a hand, his smile wide and bright like the afternoon sun. "A splendid match, my lord," he says, his voice rich and full of youthful pride. "I must confess, I didn’t expect to come away unscathed!"

You narrow your eyes, watching as your brother, ever gracious, accepts the handshake. There's a mixture of admiration and annoyance in his expression, a good-natured acknowledgment of defeat. They exchange lighthearted jests, their laughter mixing with the lingering applause. But you? You're fuming. This boy, with his easy smile and seemingly endless charm, had just bested your brother, and you feel a burning need to dislike him for it.

Then, as if sensing your discontent, Seokmin turns to you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah, you must be Lord Minghao’s sister?” he says, his grin widening into something playful, teasing. “Goodness, you make him look like a toad by comparison!”

Your mouth drops open in shock, a wave of indignation rushing through you. How dare he say such a thing? And worse—how could your brother laugh? "I beg your pardon?" you snap, standing as tall as your small frame will allow, arms crossing even tighter across your chest.

"Oh, I mean no offense, miss," Seokmin chuckles, clapping Minghao on the shoulder. "I jest, of course! Merely saying that you’re far lovelier than your brother—though, admittedly, it’s not a particularly high bar."

Despite yourself, your scowl begins to soften. There’s something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the lightness in his voice. It’s hard to stay angry when he looks at you like that, as if daring you to join in on the joke.

“Mama says men who try to charm without revealing their titles aren’t to be trusted,” you counter, lifting your chin with defiant pride. The quip comes out sharper than intended, but you’re determined not to let him get the better of you.

Minghao gasps, hands raised in mock horror. “Sister, truly, must you always speak so boldly?” He turns to Seokmin with an exaggerated sigh. “Please Seokmin, do forgive her. I assure you, turning eight has done little to improve her temperament.”

“You’re only two years older than me, brother!” you huff, your voice a touch more indignant. Before you can continue, though, Seokmin drops into a low, dramatic bow, the movement exaggerated and theatrical.

“The fault is entirely mine, my lady,” he says in mock seriousness, rising and extending his hand toward you. “Lord Lee Seokmin, future Duke of Lancaster. At your service.”

Two years of etiquette lessons flood your mind, and with a sudden burst of excitement, you place your small hand in his. Seokmin bows once more, this time dropping a playful kiss on your knuckles as you curtsy. You can hear Minghao’s exasperated sigh as he rolls his eyes, but you ignore him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Maybe Seokmin isn't such a scoundrel after all.

As the day wears on, you find yourself watching Seokmin from the corner of your eye. Despite your earlier indignation, there’s something undeniably captivating about him. You notice the way he treats everyone with kindness, far beyond what’s expected from someone his age. When a younger child stumbles near the fencing ring, it’s Seokmin who rushes to their side, kneeling in the dirt, his voice gentle as he asks, "Are you alright?" He helps the child up, brushing off their clothes with such care, you can’t help but be touched. "Fear not," he says, a smile returning to his face, "you’re not a toad—you’re a knight in training!"

The sight makes your heart soften further. How could someone so infuriating also be so kind? The lines of irritation you had drawn between you and Seokmin begin to blur, shifting into something more like curiosity.

As the sun sinks low, casting a warm amber glow over the estate, you find yourself gravitating closer to where Seokmin and Minghao stand, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation about fencing techniques. Seokmin’s laughter, bright and carefree, fills the air like music, and before you know it, you’re smiling too; there’s something undeniably magnetic about him.

Despite your best efforts, you can no longer deny the strange fluttering in your chest—a curiosity, perhaps even fascination, that you hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, Seokmin isn’t such a scoundrel after all.

The days of the social season unfold like a delicate fan, each gathering adding another layer to the tapestry of your life, and with every event, Seokmin becomes a constant presence. He is no longer just an occasional guest—he’s a breath of fresh air, his laughter ringing through the halls of your family’s estate, turning even the dullest moments into something lively and bright.

The lively soirées your parents host become a stage for his effortless charm. Ladies in the latest fashions exchange flirtatious glances in his direction, while gentlemen engage in animated debates about politics and sport, the buzz of conversation always punctuated by Seokmin’s easy laughter. His presence transforms these gatherings, turning what once felt like routine social maneuvering into vibrant affairs filled with warmth and genuine joy.

Whether he’s lending a hand to your mother in the garden, his sleeves rolled up and face relaxed in concentration, or sparring with your brother in a friendly match, Seokmin has this uncanny ability to elevate the ordinary. What might be a simple afternoon stroll or an idle conversation becomes a moment of significance when he’s around. Sun-drenched afternoons spent wandering the estate take on a new glow, each moment painted with the sound of his voice, the infectious energy he brings.

Age 14

The day Minghao and Seokmin leave for Eton is etched in your mind with vivid clarity, every detail sharp and impossible to forget. The morning is cool, yet the sun spills across the courtyard in golden rays, casting long shadows from the trees that sway gently in the breeze. The scent of dew-laden grass mixes with the faint perfume of your mother’s rose garden, but even the beauty of the estate feels muted by the melancholy lingering in the air.

Minghao, ever composed, stands with the straight posture expected of him, his hands clasped behind his back, looking every inch the young man ready to step into his responsibilities. His face, though calm, carries the weight of leaving home, but he hides it well, his eyes betraying only a flicker of the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Seokmin, on the other hand, struggles more visibly with the impending farewell. His usual cheerful grin falters, the lightness of his presence dimmed as he glances between you and Minghao. He tries to keep up his usual charm, cracking jokes that feel just a little too forced, his laughter not ringing as true as it normally does. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness you haven’t seen before, as if he’s trying to hide his own sadness behind that well-worn mask of joviality.

As they load their trunks into the carriage, a heavy knot forms in your chest. You know you’ll miss your brother, but it’s Seokmin’s departure that stings deeper. He’s been more than a friend these past years—he’s been a constant, a steady warmth you’ve come to rely on. His laughter, his easy charm, the way he could turn even the most mundane day into something special. The thought of him being gone, of not seeing him wander the estate with his boundless energy, makes your heart ache in a way you didn’t anticipate.

You step forward, your fingers trembling as you reach for Seokmin’s hand, your grip tighter than intended. “Promise me you’ll write?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word trembling with the effort to hold back tears.

Seokmin’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his usual grin giving way to something gentler. "Of course," he says, his voice steady but quieter than usual. He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture meant to comfort. “I’ll make sure you get the best letters—no boring stories, only adventures, I swear.” His grin returns, albeit a little weaker. "Besides, my lady, your brother and I will be back to torment you again come springtime!"

Minghao coughs politely. “No tearful goodbye for me, sister?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of affection in his words. His eyes flicker between you and Seokmin, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, though his posture remains upright and composed as ever.

You tear your gaze from Seokmin and offer your brother a watery smile. “Do not fret, dear brother,” you say, a bit of your usual wit returning. “I’ll save the tears for later, when the house is quiet without the two of you causing chaos.”

My Dearest Y/N,

I trust this letter finds you in fine spirits, though I daresay it is far more likely that you are wrapped in the cozy embrace of your favorite blanket, lost in a book, while the world outside continues on its merry way. I cannot help but smile at the thought, for you have always possessed the rare gift of finding joy in the mundane.

Eton is quite a spectacle, I must confess. The architecture is enough to make one feel as though they have stepped into a storybook. However, I must admit my fellow classmates lack the charm and wit of my beloved friend.

Oh, how I miss our little chats! It is a curious sensation to feel so far from home, yet I am bolstered by the knowledge that you are there, keeping our little world intact. Do tell me that you have not yet taken up knitting—your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes can bear.

Yours most fondly,Seokmin

My Dearest Seokmin,

Eton sounds positively enchanting.I must admit, the thought of you amidst all that grandeur brings me no small measure of joy—though I do hope you have not yet been swept away by the grandeur of it all! I find it impossible to imagine anyone there being quite as dashing as you.

Life here, as you suspected, is a touch quieter without your vivacious presence. I feel compelled to admit that I found myself rather melancholic the day you left. It was a curious sadness, one that clung to me like a shadow. The house feels a touch emptier, and while I do find solace in my books, nothing compares to the ease of our conversations. The warmth of your laughter is a melody I find myself longing for, especially on the coldest evenings.

Do keep writing, dear friend. Your tales from Eton are the very lifeblood of my days, and I shall regale you with the ongoing drama of our little realm. Until then, consider me your most devoted fan, ever eager for your next missive.

With all my affection,Y/N

P.S. You will take great pleasure in knowing that I have, in fact, taken up crocheting. A lovely cap, perfect for early springtime chill, awaits you at the estate.

Age 15:

Seokmin’s return each spring is as reliable as the first crocus peeking through the thawing earth, marking the true end of winter. His arrival is never just an event—it’s a burst of life that sweeps away the dullness left by the cold months. Every year, your excitement bubbles over as you anticipate that familiar moment when the world feels a little brighter with his return. The sunlight bathes the garden in warmth, a golden hue spreading like liquid over the well-trodden path he walks down, Minghao beside him. Their laughter floats through the air, a melody that harmonizes with the soft rustle of blooming flowers and the hum of spring.

When they finally come into view, your heart quickens, as if drawn into the rhythm of their steps. With Minghao’s ever-amiable grin and Seokmin’s radiant energy, they are a pair that seems to make the world tilt just a little toward joy. Every spring, it's the same—they stride toward you as if no time has passed, as if the long months apart were nothing but a brief blink in the grander scheme of your lives. And each time, the three of you fall into the same routines as though nothing has changed.

It usually begins with some mischief. They never fail to poke fun at you until you’re red-faced with exasperation. Seokmin, with that teasing glint in his eyes, will say something absurd or playfully condescending, and Minghao, ever the instigator, will back him up with a sly smirk. It’s only a matter of time before you lose your patience, yell, and stomp your foot, your protests ringing louder than you’d intended.

Your raised voice inevitably draws the attention of your mother, who reprimands you from the kitchen window with her usual fond disapproval. "Now, now," she’ll chide, a soft laugh hidden in her voice. "There’s no need to shout, dear. They’re only playing."

Of course, that’s the cue for Seokmin and Minghao to burst into laughter, doubling over in amusement at how easily they’ve ruffled your feathers. You scowl at them, but it’s hard to keep a frown on your face when they’re both so gleeful, their joy infectious, lighting up the entire garden.

One afternoon, not long after their return, Seokmin and Minghao find their old practice fencing swords—long forgotten and buried deep in the flowerbeds, peeking out from beneath the tulips. You watch as they unearth the swords with a mixture of surprise and amusement, both of them laughing as if uncovering a treasure trove of memories. Their faces are bright with nostalgia as they pull the dirt-encrusted weapons free, brushing off the petals clinging to the blades.

It's then that Seokmin starts to call you "Tulip," a private little nickname he utters only when it's just the two of you. The first time he says it, there’s a lightness to his tone, his lips curling into that mischievous smile of his. “You know,” he says, leaning in closer as you both watch Minghao attempt a ridiculous fencing stance in the distance, “it only makes sense. After all, you’ve been hiding our swords with the tulips. I think ‘Tulip’ suits you.”

At first, you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, but there’s a warmth in your chest at how easily he’s assigned you such a tender nickname.

One particularly warm afternoon, your mother summons you to help her with the flowerbeds, a chore you reluctantly take on. The sun beats down, the heat pressing into your skin and the earth beneath your fingers, while the scent of soil and fresh blossoms hangs thick in the air. You sigh, resigning yourself to the tedious task when, suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Ah, the fair lady in her noble endeavor!” Seokmin’s voice rings out, full of his usual playful grandeur. He strides through the garden gate, sweeping an imaginary cape behind him with exaggerated flair. His smile is as bright as the sun itself, lighting up the whole space. “Fear not, for I shall be your loyal squire in this quest for botanical beauty!”

Despite your earlier annoyance, a reluctant smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. Seokmin has a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel like an adventure. You watch as he bounds toward you, his movements light and full of energy. With an exaggerated show of determination, he rolls up his sleeves, pretending to prepare for battle. The weight of the day feels lighter already.

Together, the two of you dig your hands into the soil, your fingers dirty and the air filled with the soft rustling of the leaves around you. Laughter bubbles up between the two of you, mingling with the breeze as Seokmin’s animated voice brings life to the still afternoon. As you plant flower after flower, he regales you with tales of his fencing matches at Eton, his voice lively, arms waving dramatically to mimic the grand duels he’s fought.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he says with mock gravity, “this boy was at least twice my size, and I won the match with nothing but clever footwork and a flick of the wrist!” He pantomimes the move, his arm cutting through the air like a sword.

You laugh, shaking your head at his theatrical retelling, the tension of the task dissolving with every story. It’s impossible not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. “Is that so?” you tease, barely holding back a grin.

“I daresay, footwork in fencing is quite the advantageous skill,” Seokmin says, dropping to his knees beside you with faux-seriousness, inspecting the flowerbed as though it holds the secrets to the universe. “If one can move with the grace of a dancer, one can—”

Just as he gestures again, his elbow brushes against your arm, and suddenly, time seems to slow. The lighthearted atmosphere is pierced by a spark, a ripple of warmth that travels through you. Both of you freeze, his eyes widening in surprise. His cheeks flush a light pink as he quickly pulls back, his confidence faltering for a brief second.

“My sincerest apologies,” he stammers, the usual brightness in his voice now tinged with uncharacteristic bashfulness. He resumes his work, his fingers trembling slightly as they sift through the soil. The warmth of the sun suddenly pales in comparison to the heat between you.

“It’s quite all right,” you reply, your voice shaky, your heartbeat far more rapid than you’d like. “Just... gardening, after all.” You try for casualness, but the words sound ridiculous even to your own ears, given the charged air lingering between you.

Moments later, you stand to stretch, hoping to shake off the strange energy that has settled over the both of you. Seokmin leans in to grab a nearby tool, and his shoulder brushes against yours again—this time, the contact lingers for just a second too long. The heat of it sends another jolt through you, making your heart stutter.

You gasp, startled by the unfamiliar sensation, your breath hitching. The warmth spreads from your chest down to your fingertips, a strange, foreign feeling you can’t quite name.

“Goodness! I beg your pardon again,” Seokmin says quickly, his sheepish smile returning, though this time it’s softer, more hesitant. His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place. “It seems I have a propensity for unintentional collisions today.”

That smile—it makes your chest tighten. His presence, usually a source of comfort, now awakens something new within you, something unsettling yet undeniable. Gardening, once nothing but a mundane chore, has transformed into something far more intimate with Seokmin by your side. The flowerbeds seem to flourish under his laughter, vibrant blooms swaying as if they, too, revel in the joy of the moment.

But that foreign sensation? You tuck it deep into your mind, burying it along with the seeds you’ve planted, afraid to decode what it could mean. After all, this is Seokmin—your friend, your constant. And yet, the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin longer than it should, as if it’s quietly asking you to look closer.

My Dearest Seokmin,

I hope this letter finds you in moments of solace amidst the tumult of your recent loss. It is with a heavy heart that I pen these words, having heard of your father’s passing. The news struck me with such a weight, as though the very air around me had grown thick with sorrow. I cannot begin to fathom the grief you must be experiencing, yet please know that my thoughts and prayers are ever with you during this difficult time.

Your father was a remarkable man, a beacon of kindness and integrity, and his absence will undoubtedly leave a profound void in the hearts of all who had the privilege of knowing him. I remember fondly the stories you shared, of his wisdom and warmth, which have clearly shaped the exceptional person you have become. His legacy, I have no doubt, will endure through you.

With his passing, I know you now bear the title of Duke. While this new responsibility may feel daunting, I have every confidence you will honor his legacy with the same grace and strength he embodied. I want you to remember that you are not alone. I am here, dear friend, steadfast and unwavering, ready to support you as you navigate this uncharted territory.

I eagerly await the day when I can see your smile again, and we can talk about the flowers in the garden, just as we always have.

With all my love and deepest sympathies,Y/N

My Dearest Tulip,

Your letter brought me a flicker of light amidst the shadows that have enveloped me since my father’s passing. It is a solace to know that you, too, share in my grief, and your words resonate deeply within me, reminding me that I am not alone in this turbulent sea of sorrow.

Thank you for your kind remembrance of my father. He often spoke of you with such fondness, and knowing how he impacted your life brings me a measure of comfort. His lessons of kindness and integrity remain etched in my heart, and I strive to honor his legacy in every decision I make as Duke. It is a weight I carry with both pride and trepidation, yet the knowledge of your unwavering support gives me strength.

Though this season feels uncharted and daunting, your friendship is a cherished constant. I, too, long for the day when we can stroll through the gardens, exchanging thoughts about the flowers and sharing laughter, just as we once did. Until then, I will hold onto the warmth of your words and the memories we’ve created.

With heartfelt gratitude and affection,Seokmin

Age 16:

When Seokmin and Minghao return home the next spring, it’s clear that Seokmin carries more than just the usual joy and liveliness he always brings with him. A new weight settles over him, one you haven’t seen before. The responsibility of the Dukedom starts to bear down on him, heavy as the cloak he will one day wear. His laugh remains bright, his smile still warm, but there’s something different now—an unspoken awareness that the carefree boy of the past is slowly giving way to the man he is becoming.

He has grown taller, his limbs long and strong, and the way he carries himself now commands attention. The once-boyish face is now defined, the angle of his jaw sharper, while his arms, corded with muscles, show the signs of hard work and training. It’s as if each inch he’s gained has come with a newfound strength, and when he meets your gaze, his eyes hold a certain seriousness, as if he is seeing everything with a fresh perspective.

The easy rhythm of your old routines stays intact—Minghao teasing you until you yell, Seokmin’s booming laughter echoing across the fields, and the reprimands from your mother when your playful shouts interrupt her afternoon peace. It all feels the same, yet beneath it all, you know things are changing.

On one such afternoon, you discover their practice swords—once lost and forgotten—buried haphazardly in the flowerbed among your mother’s beloved tulips. You pull them free with a gasp, the soil still clinging to the metal, and when you bring them to Seokmin, he chuckles, the sound a little sadder than you remember.

“Well,” he says, wiping the dirt from the hilt, “seems like even the tulips want to keep us from growing up too fast, eh, Tulip?”

Despite the weight of responsibility that now shadows him, he still calls you “Tulip.” The name slips easily from his lips, playful and tender, a thread that ties your past to the present. The quiet nickname carries the bittersweet truth: your days of carefree adventures and playful banter are slowly fading, giving way to the responsibilities of adulthood. And while the world around you shifts, that name—whispered in secret—feels like a promise that some part of him, some part of both of you, will always stay the same.

My dearest Tulip,

It is with a heart full of sorrow that I write to you, upon receiving the most distressing news regarding your father’s passing. The world seems dimmer without him, and my thoughts are consumed with the weight of your grief. I wish I could be there, to hold your hand and share in the memories of a man who undoubtedly brought so much light into your life.

When the silence envelops you, when the days stretch long and heavy with unshed tears, know that I am here for you. You need not wear a mask of strength; I shall not expect it. Life has a way of changing in an instant, and though we are thrust into roles we may not be prepared for, there remains solace in companionship.

Please remember, my dear friend, you are not alone in this journey. I stand with you, ready to lend my support and share in whatever you need.

With the utmost affection,Seokmin

My dearest Seokmin,

Your letter reached me at a time when silence has settled heavily over the estate, wrapping around us like a shroud. It feels as though the laughter that once danced through these halls has been swallowed by a void, leaving behind a hushed emptiness. My mother, once so vibrant, now moves about with an air of resignation, her spirit dimmed as if she carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders. The joy that once bloomed within her seems to have withered, and even the flowers in the garden appear to droop, their colors muted in sympathy for our grief.

I often find myself worrying for Minghao. The new title of duke weighs upon him like a heavy cloak, and I fear that the responsibilities thrust upon him will change him in ways I cannot yet understand. I can only imagine the burden he feels, trying to uphold our father's legacy while grappling with the uncertainties of leadership. It frightens me to think of how this shift may alter our relationship, how he might feel compelled to step into a role that distances him from the brother I’ve always known. I fear I may lose him just as I have lost my father.

Yet, amid this uncertainty, your words bring me a flicker of comfort. The knowledge that you stand with me during this turbulent time is a balm for my spirit. I long for your return, for the laughter and warmth that you bring.

Until then, I hold your friendship close to my heart, a gentle reminder that even in the darkest of times, I am not alone.

With all my affection,Y/N

Age 17:

At the onset of spring, when Minghao and Seokmin return to the estate, the world feels subtly transformed. The air is perfumed with the scent of blooming flowers, yet there’s an unmistakable weight in the atmosphere, a quiet acknowledgment of the changes that accompany their new titles. As dukes, both acquire an aura of responsibility that overshadows the playful ease they once share.

The lighthearted teasing that characterizes your interactions is now less frequent, often replaced by a more thoughtful camaraderie. It’s as though their titles impose a certain decorum upon them, one that even the most mischievous of spirits cannot easily shake off. Their laughter, while still present, bears the faintest echo of seriousness that wasn’t there before.

Yet, despite this change, you find immense joy in their company, particularly when they engage in spirited sparring sessions in the training yard. As wooden swords clash and echo, it’s impossible not to feel a thrill at the sight of them—two young gentlemen, once boys, now embodying a gravity that demands respect even in their play.

The matches become a spectacle, each clash of wooden swords accompanied by shouts and laughter that echo through the estate. You perch on the sidelines, an amused spectator, as Seokmin and Minghao banter playfully between bouts. “You call that a strike?” Seokmin teases, deftly dodging your brother’s advance with a lightness that seems almost effortless. “I’ve seen more ferocity from a kitten!”

Minghao rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth betraying a grin despite his best efforts to maintain an air of dignity. “One day, Seokmin, you shall learn that mocking your opponent is a perilous game.”

You perch on the sidelines, unable to stifle the laughter bubbling forth at their antics. Each exchange between them is a delightful dance, weaving a tapestry of shared history and unspoken affection. Yet, as you watch, you cannot help but feel a twinge of wistfulness; the exuberance of their banter now seems to emerge from a place tinged with nostalgia.

The sun dips low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the training yard; both young gentlemen wield their wooden swords with a fervor that sends a thrill through the onlookers. You remain at a distance, your heart pounding in rhythm with each clash of wood, an exhilaration mingled with unease coursing through you.

Seokmin, with his characteristic bravado, flashes a teasing grin as he engages your brother. “Come now, my lord! Surely you can do better than that!” The laughter in his voice rings like a bell, though you can’t help but feel a knot of apprehension tighten in your chest.

As the match continues, you find yourself transfixed by Seokmin’s agile movements, the way he dances about the training yard with a carefree spirit. However, just as you begin to relax, a delicate butterfly flits past, capturing Seokmin’s attention momentarily. It is in this fleeting distraction that your brother seizes his opportunity, lunging forward with surprising speed.

“Seokmin!” you cry out, the word escaping your lips before you can restrain it. Time seems to elongate as you watch, breathless, as Seokmin turns just in time to evade the wooden sword’s path. He stumbles slightly, regaining his balance as he casts a quick glance your way, surprise etched upon his handsome features.

With your heart racing, you dash to his side, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Are you quite well?” The urgency in your voice is unmistakable, for the thought of his injury sends a chill through you.

“Indeed, I am unharmed,” he replies, though the forced joviality of his laugh belies the tension of the moment. “Merely caught off guard, I assure you.”

Yet your heart refuses to calm. “You cannot be so reckless! What if you had been injured?” The fervor of your concern envelops you, and you see a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes as he steps closer, the air between you thick with a burgeoning intimacy. That same foreign sensation – the one from years ago when he had brushed against you in the gardens – ignites within you, one you had tucked away and kept hidden, rearing its head in this moment of vulnerability.

“Thank you, Tulip, for your ever-present concern for my well-being,” he murmurs, his voice lowered as he meets your gaze, the world around you fading into an indistinct haze. Just then, Minghao loudly clears his throat, and Seokmin drops his eyes, a bashful blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

You step away, embarrassed, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Minghao corners you in the gardens that night, the cool summer breeze brushing against your skin as you take a walk, seeking solace from the tempest of thoughts swirling in your mind. The encounter with Seokmin lingers like a gentle whisper, an unsettling mixture of warmth and confusion that dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing you with emotions you struggle to understand.

“Sister,” he begins, his voice so soft that you nearly startle. In an instant, he presses a hand against your mouth, his finger raised in a quiet plea for silence. “It’s only me, Y/N. I fear you’ll wake the entire estate.”

“It’s your fault for skulking about the gardens like a common thief!” you whisper back, fiercely. “What on earth could possibly require such urgent discussion that you couldn’t grant me one night of peace?”

His expression grows serious, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You must be careful, sister,” he admonishes, and in that moment, he seems less like your brother and more like the Duke of Somerset—tall, proud, and formidable. “There are whispers… about you and Seokmin.”

“Whispers? Whatever do you mean?” You search his face for clarification, anxiety bubbling within you.

Minghao shakes his head as if dismissing the very idea of this conversation. A wave of indignation washes over you, eager to burst forth. He may be only two years your elder, yet he still insists on treating you like a child. “Your debut into society draws near,” he continues, his voice measured and resolute. “You mustn’t jeopardize it.”

“But Minghao—” you begin, but he raises a hand, silencing you with a mere gesture.

“Listen. You know how these things unfold. A mere hint of impropriety could tarnish your reputation. I don’t want you to suffer from the kind of gossip that twists the truth.” His tone softens, revealing a hint of genuine concern that pierces through your indignation. “I only want what’s best for you.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “I am not a child anymore,” you protest, the tremor in your voice betraying a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I am capable of making my own choices.”

“Perhaps,” he replies, his eyes steady and unwavering. “But I have a responsibility to protect you, Y/N. I don’t wish to stifle your spirit, but you must grasp the implications of your actions.”

The night air grows thick with unspoken sentiments, and as the stars twinkle overhead like mischievous spectators, you grapple with the tumult in your heart. There’s something about Seokmin that sends ripples of confusion coursing through you, a fluttering sensation that stirs your chest whenever his name crosses your mind. You do not fully comprehend what it is, but it’s undeniably present—a flicker of something more, leaving you teetering on the precipice of feelings you are not yet ready to confront.

My dearest Seokmin,

As I sit here with this pen in hand, I find myself quite at a loss. The arrival of my debut looms on the horizon, and while I am certainly filled with anticipation, I must confess that trepidation dances in my chest, quite uninvited. The notion of standing before an audience of peers—well-bred and well-mannered—fills me with an unease I cannot quite articulate. Will my words tumble forth in a jumbled mess? Or worse, will they fall on deaf ears?

I cannot shake the dreadful thought that I may never find a match. What if I enter that grand ballroom, adorned in my finest gown, and am met with indifference? Will the charming suitors twirl past me, whisking away others while I stand, forgotten, on the periphery? The idea sends a shiver down my spine, as I fear I may spend the evening watching the festivities unfold without me.

As I consider the expectations that accompany my debut, I can’t help but reflect on how you and Minghao have gracefully embraced your new roles as dukes. You carry the weight of your responsibilities with such elegance, while I find myself yearning to flourish in a world that feels daunting. Will I, too, be able to navigate this landscape of expectation and propriety, or will I falter under its weight?

Forgive my ramblings, dear friend. I suppose I am merely hoping for reassurance, a kind word from you. Perhaps if I know you will be there—your presence a familiar balm—I might muster the courage to dance and revel in the splendor of the evening.

With warmest regards and hopeful heart,Your Tulip

My Dearest Tulip,

Your recent letter has landed in my hands like a most delightful spring breeze, though I must confess it carries with it a hint of unease that quite unnerves me. How is it that my steadfast friend, who has faced the world with such spirited determination, now frets over the prospects of the ballroom?

First and foremost, allow me to put your mind at ease. The mere thought of you standing in that grand ballroom, adorned in the finest gown, is enough to illuminate the dimmest of corners. Your charm will be as radiant as the most exquisite of chandeliers, drawing the gaze of all who are fortunate enough to cross your path. I assure you, the gentlemen will hardly be able to focus on anything—or anyone—else.

Now, I cannot let this opportunity pass without a bit of teasing – regarding your step upon my toes during our lessons – I daresay I must bring up a rather amusing memory. I cannot help but recall how you sent both Minghao and me reeling across the room, much like a pair of wayward marionettes! One can only hope that with age comes grace—or at the very least, a better sense of foot placement! If not, I shall be prepared to don the most resilient shoes in all of England.

Worry not, dear Tulip. I shall be by your side the entire season, if you shall have me (although, I am not entirely certain your dear brother will be entirely pleased by this idea).

Your most loyal servant,Seokmin

Dearest Sister,

As I sit at my desk, I cannot help but feel a mixture of pride and exasperation as I pen this letter. Our infrequent exchanges have become quite the tradition, have they not? I find it amusing that as your brother, I am often left to await your words while Seokmin is constantly regaled by your stories.

With your debut looming closer, I feel it is my solemn duty as both your brother and your Duke to remind you of the delicate nature of polite society. Your debut is not merely an occasion to don a gown and curtsy to the queen; it is a rite filled with expectations and decorum. I implore you to be mindful of the company you keep and the propriety that is expected of you as a young lady and the sister of the Duke. I have taken it upon myself to speak to Seokmin, warning him of the same – he has a habit of forgetting his own station in moments of levity.

While I know you must find these constraints stifling, know that the eyes of the ton will soon be upon you, not only assessing your beauty but also your character. You are the jewel of our family, and I trust you will shine brightly, even amidst these expectations.

Write to me when you can, dear sister, even if it is infrequent. Your musings are treasures to your dear elder brother, and I await them constantly.

With all my love, Minghao

Dearest Brother,

I say this with the utmost love and devotion:

Damn you.

(Please forgive my language, and please, do not show this letter to Mama. I fear her admonishments may never end if she hears of my vernacular)

I am acutely aware of the expectations that accompany my debut – how could I forget when both you and Mama loom over me like a pair of hawks? While I recognize your intentions, your words do little to alleviate my anxiety.

Your warning regarding Seokmin only serves to make me laugh. It is amusing, truly, to envision the Duke of Lancaster being chided by my brother on the virtues of propriety. I promise to keep my wits about me and to present myself with all the elegance expected of a young lady of my station (the sister of a Duke, no less!).

I will do my utmost to avoid a scandal – or at the very least, I shall ensure that you do not hear of it. I shall write again soon, if only to unleash more of my exasperation upon you.

Yours, in (implied) rebellion, Y/N (Sister of the Duke of Somerset)

Age 18:

On the eve of your debut, you find yourself seated on the swing in the garden of the Somerset townhome, the night cloaked in an almost palpable tension. The sounds of Mayfair filter through the stillness—a symphony of distant laughter, the soft clatter of carriages, and the occasional rustle of silk skirts—as the ton settles into slumber. The air feels electric, crackling with anticipation, as if the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for the events of the morrow to unfold.

You take a deep drag from the cigarette you swiped from Minghao’s rooms, the smoke spiraling into the night like a fleeting thought. With each inhale, you hope to drown out the anxious fluttering of your heart, a dissonant rhythm that accelerates at the mere thought of tomorrow’s debut.

“Why, Lady Xu Y/N, are you smoking?” The voice breaks through your reverie, causing you to sputter and cough, hastily attempting to conceal the cigarette behind your back. You turn to see Seokmin, leaning casually against the sturdy oak tree that secures the swing, his figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

His presence is both familiar and disarming, the boyish charm of his smile juxtaposed against the weight of his title. “No, Seokmin, I—” you stammer, flustered.

“Shove over,” he commands lightly, and before you can protest, he plucks the cigarette from your frozen grip, taking a deep, leisurely drag. The sight of him—so confident, so carefree—sets your heart racing in a way that both delights and terrifies you.

“What on earth are you doing here?” you ask incredulously, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“I was with your brother at White’s,” he replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It was my mistake to forget how little he can imbibe before devolving into an utter fool. I was merely making sure he returned home safely.” His tone shifts, curiosity sparkling in his gaze. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Excited? Hardly,” you grumble, kicking at the scattered rocks beneath your feet. “What my heart truly desires is to run away—pack my things, flee to Paris, and open a quaint little bookstore. Perhaps live out my days as a spinster, surrounded by novels and solitude.”

Seokmin’s expression shifts, a shadow of understanding passing across his features. “We cannot always have what our hearts desire,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow as he exhales a plume of smoke. “Sometimes, we must accept that we can find happiness in what we have, not in what could have been.”

You watch the smoke dance and dissipate into the night sky, thoughts swirling as restlessly as the tendrils of fog around you.

“And you?” you ask quietly, the question escaping before you can catch it. “What does your heart desire?”

“Desired,” he corrects, taking another deep drag. “I once dreamed of being a fencer, of dueling beneath the sun. But above all, I yearned to find love.”

Your heart stutters at his admission. His thigh brushes against yours, an electric touch that feels so scandalously intimate you can hardly breathe. You suddenly become acutely aware of the nightgown you wear, the thin fabric doing little to shield you from the heat radiating from his body. If Minghao were to catch you in this moment, you are certain he would demand that Seokmin either marry you on the spot or duel him for your honor.

The very thought sends a shiver down your spine—an improper thought that both terrifies and thrills you. You are a young lady, poised to make your debut, and here you are, perched so closely to an eligible duke, the expectations of the ton looming like a dark cloud. What would society say if they were to discover you in this clandestine moment? The whispers would be deafening, your reputation in tatters, and yet… the thrill of it, the danger, pulls at you like a siren's song.

“And you believe you shall never find it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I am a Duke, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it barely pierces the night air. “Duty must come first. If there is any part of me left, which there rarely is, only then can I pursue love.”

The distance between you feels both impossibly vast and achingly close, the weight of his words pressing against you like an invisible force. You can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the unspoken longing that mirrors your own.

You hum, encouraging him to continue, yet the weight of his words presses down on your chest.

“But how fortunate am I,” he continues, his gaze piercing through the night like a beacon, “to have found such a remarkable friend who stands by me even as duty threatens to drown me where I stand.”

A friend. The word lingers between you, heavy and loaded. Is that truly all he sees you as? The realization sends your mind reeling, your heart racing in an entirely different way.

No, the trees whisper, urging you to reconsider.

Could it be…love?

That foreign sensation, long buried beneath layers of propriety and friendship, now unfurls within you, roots taking hold. You realize with a start that you have loved Seokmin, perhaps from that very first kiss on your hand all those years ago, long before you could articulate the feelings swirling in your heart.

Panic courses through you, and you leap up from the swing as if it has burned you. “It is late, Lord Lee. I must take my leave now,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “I hope you find your way home safely.”

He reaches out, his hand brushing against your wrist, and your breath hitches at the contact. “Wait,” he says, his voice low, almost laced with concern. “Are you alright? You seem... distant.”

His eyes search yours, and you feel the weight of his gaze, an anchor that both comforts and terrifies you. Your pulse quickens, a frantic rhythm echoing in your ears. What would it mean to linger here a moment longer, to let the night wrap around you like a cocoon?

But all the books you’ve read offer no preparation for the heartache that comes with knowing he regards you as merely a friend. A friend, just like your brother. You are his friend, and the shattering realization settles in: he will never love you back.

“Tulip?” he adds softly, the word a whisper that brushes against your skin like the wind.

You swallow hard, every part of you aching to give in, to lean into the connection pulsing between you. But the truth looms like a storm cloud overhead, dark and inevitable.

You love Lord Lee Seokmin, Duke of Lancaster, but he will never love you.

And with that heavy knowledge weighing on your heart, you turn to leave, every step toward your room feeling like a betrayal to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

You don’t sleep at all, thoughts consumed by a boy you had once known and the man you now love.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13

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d-targaryenshoe · 8 months ago

Text

Eternal Hope - Anthony Bridgerton

Word Count: 2053

Summary: When one's best friend tells you a rather complex secret about your husband, doubts start to take over your mind, am I right?

You and Anthony Bridgerton were the perfection of an ideal couple, your marriage a testament to the power of love and commitment.

You were a vision of innocence and purity, your heart as untainted as the snow that covered the ground on your wedding day.

He was the embodiment of devotion, his every action a reflection of his deep affection for you. To the outside world, you were the picture-perfect duo, your lives a fairytale come true.

But your best friend, Philipa Featherington, knew better. Her family had seen Anthony Bridgerton in his younger days before he had met you and settled down.

Back then, he had been known as quite the rake, a man who was more interested in the pleasures of the flesh than in finding true love.

Despite his charming exterior, there was something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

It was this knowledge that made Philipa feel a mixture of awe, envy, and a tiny thread of worry for you, her friend.

One afternoon, as the two of you sat in the parlor, sipping tea and enjoying the warmth of the sun, Philipa decided to share the past with you.

"You know, y/n," she began, her voice low and conspiratorial, "I sometimes wonder how you ever managed to tame that wild beast of a man."

Philipa nodded towards the golden ring on your finger. "Before you came along, Anthony was quite the scoundrel."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Philipa, I cannot believe that you would say such a thing about my husband!" you exclaimed. "Anthony is the most loving, attentive man I could ever hope for!"

Philipa smiled sympathetically, knowing that you meant every word you said. But she also knew that there was more to the story than you realized.

"Yes, yes," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Of course, he is different now. But you must remember that everyone here has known him for years, and some saw firsthand the things he used to do. He could be quite ruthless, y/n. He never cared about anyone's feelings but his own."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you sure you're not overstating?" you asked hesitantly. "Anthony has always been so kind to me."

Philipa looked you in the eye. "I wish I were," she said simply.

"But the truth is, Anthony Bridgerton was once a very different man. And while I'm glad that he's changed, and that you're so happy together, I can't help but wonder if you know who he is."

Your heart sank at your friend's words. You wanted to believe that Philipa was wrong, that Anthony could never have been anything but the devoted husband you knew now.

But a tiny seed of doubt began to take root in your mind. Perhaps there was more to Anthony's past than you had realized.

"I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love Anthony with all my heart, and he loves me just as much. He's been nothing but faithful and kind since the day we met."

Philipa reached over and took your hand in hers. "I'm not saying that he isn't faithful to you now," she said gently.

"But you must understand that the man you married is not the same man who was running through the streets of London, chasing after any skirt that crossed his path."

You bit your lip, trying to process everything your friend was saying.

You wanted to believe that Anthony was as innocent and pure as you were, but the memories of Philipa's stories kept creeping into your thoughts.

Could it be possible that there was more to Anthony than you knew?

As you sat alone in the carriage, making your way home from your visit to Philipa, your heart felt heavy with doubt.

The wind howled outside, and the horses' hooves clattered against the cobblestone streets, but you could barely hear any of it over the voice in your head.

What if Philipa was right? What if Anthony had been dissatisfied with you in some way?

You tried to convince yourself that it was ridiculous, that Anthony was the most loving husband a woman could ask for.

But the thought lingered, refusing to be shaken off.

Your mind drifted back to the beginning of your courtship, when Anthony had been so attentive, always showering you with compliments and affection.

He had made you feel beautiful and desirable in a way that no one else ever had. But then, as time went on, you began to wonder if perhaps he was growing bored with you.

He had started spending more time at his club, and when he was home, he seemed distracted.

You tried to talk to him about it, but he always brushed your concerns aside, insisting that everything was fine.

You closed your eyes, the tears beginning to well up in their corners. It hurt you to think that Anthony might not find you beautiful anymore, that he might be seeking pleasure elsewhere.

The thought made you feel so insecure, so unworthy of his love. As the carriage pulled up in front of your home, you forced a smile onto your face, trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be all right.

But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right between you.

You climbed out of the carriage and hurried up the steps to your front door, your heart racing with anticipation and fear.

Anthony was supposed to have returned home hours ago, but he hadn't come back yet.

You knocked on the door, your knuckles white from gripping the handle.

When the butler answered, you forced a bright smile, trying to hide the turmoil within her.

"Hello, Thomas," you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. "Is Lord Bridgerton inside?"

Thomas, ever the attentive servant, noticed something amiss in your expression. "I believe Lord Bridgerton is still at the club, Lady Bridgerton," he said gently. "Shall I send up a tray for him?"

You hesitated for a moment, your brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yes," you managed to say, "that would be lovely. Thank you, Thomas." You turned and made your way upstairs to your bed chamber, your steps heavy with unease.

You couldn't help but wonder what Anthony was doing at the club for so long, and why he hadn't come home yet.

The thought of him with another woman, enjoying himself in ways he never seemed to enjoy with you, made your stomach churn.

You busied yourself with straightening the bedclothes and rearranging the pillows, trying to distract yourself from the growing ache in your heart.

But as the minutes ticked by and Anthony still hadn't returned, your anxiety only grew worse.

You couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that perhaps Philipa had been right all along.

Maybe Anthony's past truly was catching up with you, and your marriage wasn't as strong as you had once believed it to be.

Finally, you heard the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs.

Your heart leaped into your throat as you hurried over to the window, peeking out through the curtains.

There he was, striding up the walkway, his shoulders squared and his head held high. He looked every bit the gentleman you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

But as he ascended the stairs and disappeared from your view.

Your stomach was knotted with fear. You waited until you heard the butler announce his arrival before you made your way down the hallway, trying to compose yourself.

When you finally stepped into the entryway, Anthony turned toward you, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "There you are, dearest," he said, his voice warm and affectionate. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd gotten off to."

Your heart sank even further. You forced a smile and walked toward him, trying to ignore the voice in your head that kept saying that this wasn't real, that he wasn't truly happy to see you.

As you moved toward each other, you let yourself be enveloped in his embrace, breathing in his familiar cologne, feeling the strength of his arms around you.

For a moment, you let yourself believe that everything was going to be all right.

"I was just waiting in the parlor, my lady," Thomas interjected, clearing his throat. "Shall I bring up the tray for Lord Bridgerton now?"

"Yes, please," Anthony said, stepping away from you. "That would be lovely, Thomas. Thank you."

He turned back to you, reaching out to take your hand. "Come, my dear. Let's go eat in the privacy of our chamber. I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

Your heart skipped a beat. What could he possibly need to discuss? You forced another smile and allowed him to lead you up the stairs and into your bed chamber, following him like a nervous child as he took a seat at the table.

He poured you each a glass of wine before sitting back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you.

"Y/n," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "I need to talk to you about something."

Your stomach twisted into knots. "Okay," you managed to say, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "What is it?"

Anthony took a deep breath before continuing. "I love you, y/n. More than anything in this world. You are my wife, my partner, my best friend. But I've been feeling...disconnected from you lately. Like something is missing between us."

He paused, searching your eyes for some sign of understanding. "I want us to be closer. More intimate. I want to feel the way I used to feel when I looked at you, the way I felt when we first met."

Your heart ached as you listened to his words.

A part of you wanted to believe him, to believe that you could find your way back to the love you once shared.

But another part of you couldn't help but wonder if it was all just an act if he was only trying to save face.

You took a sip of your wine, trying to steady your nerves. "I...I want that too," you said, your voice trembling. "I want us to be closer, to feel connected again. But...I don't know how."

Anthony studied your face, his expression softening.

"I think we need to be honest with each other," he said. "To share our fears and our desires. To...explore each other." He took a deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed.

"I want to make love to you, y/n. Not just tonight, but every night. I want to show you how much you mean to me, how much I desire you."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, your heart racing. A part of you wanted to believe that he meant it, that he wanted you the way he used to.

But another part of you couldn't help but wonder if it was all just a ploy to ease his conscience, to make himself feel better about whatever it was he had been doing.

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for some sign of truth.

"I'm...I'm not sure," you said finally, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I want to try, Anthony. I want us to try. But I need you to promise me that...that you'll always be honest with me. That you'll never keep anything from me."

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "I promise you, my love," he said solemnly.

"I will always be honest with you. And I swear I will never keep anything from you. Not again." His grip on your hand tightened, and you could feel the warmth of his palm through your gloves. "I want this to work between us, y/n. More than anything."

You closed your eyes, trying to decide what to believe. Part of you wanted to believe him, to trust that he could change, that you could find your way back to the love you once shared.

But another part of you was still so insecure, still so hurt by the betrayal. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever might come.

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jacespookiebear · 2 years ago

Text

ೃ࿐ 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙚

summary : you’re the younger twin sister of jacaerys velaryon, heir to the iron throne. possessing an undying love for your brother and promising yourself that you would do anything to protect him.

pairings : jacaerys velaryon x dark!twin!reader

warnings : suggestive themes, violence, self-harm, incest, sexual content, teen pregnancies, dark tendencies, toxicity, angst?

For as long as everyone could remember, you and your twin brother were attached to the hip since you were born. From a young age, you were already showing signs of being rather protective of Jace. Rhaenyra always passed it off whenever Alicent would point it out. She was extremely upset during an situation where you scratched Aegon’s face after he teased Jace, even when to as far as to complaining to Viserys and wishing for you to be punished but your grandsire was entirely on your side.

You surely knew how to get away with everything, you were your mother’s only daughter afterall. Of course she would defend you no matter what troubles you brought for yourself and your siblings.

As much as your brother seems to love and care for you, he wasn’t as blind like your mother, he knew how much a cold person you were towards others who weren’t your family, you would never hold your tongue about your uncles and step-grandmother. “If I could, I would have them all beheaded just for how they speak of you, dear brother.” laying by your side on your shared bed with him, having you in his arms as he listens to you speak about wanting to commit kinslaying before dozing off to sleep.

It wasn’t like it scared the boy, but it made him concerned. What if the wrong person heard you say those things? You would be punished heavily for it. So that’s why he made you promise that you would never speak so filthy ever again.

While you all still lived in King’s Landing, you used most of your time watching your brothers train in the courtyard with your uncles, usually right by your grandsire’s side, who was always happy to spend time with his favorite grandchild. Always chanting your brothers’ names to show your support for them and to that it would be Aegon teasing Jace and Luke about you. It pissed you off after witnessing him completely be rough and harsh with Jace during a session until was forced by Ser Harwin to be pulled away.

The next night, you decided to pull a prank on Aegon by filling his chamberpot with rats. The aftermath left you having to lie and say how sorry you felt but really you wanted to do worse than that to the lousy Prince, he was always left unscathed whenever he bullied your brothers, you were only doing justice. But with enough tears in your eyes, you were quickly able to learn that you could manipulate your grandsire and mother to let you off the hook easily.

“He hurt you, brother!” you profusely shouted for Jace to understand, he had started to ignore you for awhile and it left you crying for his attention. “That scoundrel deserves worse.”

With just enough tears, he gave in and pressed a kiss on your forehead to make you happy again. But he knew you would never stop acting so cruel, Jace began keeping you away from Aemond and Aegon for couple of weeks before you all had left to move to Dragonstone. After hearing about how Rhaenyra tried betrothing Jace and Helaena, and you with Aegon, you couldn’t help but develop some annoyance towards her for it, started to ignore her kisses or affections for awhile, your mother was growing concerned for you.

After the arrival, you practically begged your mother to continue letting you have shared chambers with Jace, reluctantly she agreed, afraid to know what else you would have done if she disagreed but it made you warm up to her once more. Although your twin had wished for privacy, you came to agreement to having separate beds facing opposite to each other but that did not stop you from sneaking in his bed to hug him as he’s asleep.

Your younger brother, Luke, would always question why you always prefer Jace’s company, you sympathized with your sweet brother and started spending some time Luke as a way to pay for all the times you had shut him away. During these times together, you always read the histories of the conquest to him and even talked about how it is Targaryen customs to wed family.

During the funeral, you stayed by your siblings’ sides until Aegon had whispered foolishness in your ear about how you could’ve been married to him right now, was he always this stupid? you thought, looking around to find your brother, wanting to be away from the scoundrel they called a Prince but instead you saw him holding hands with your cousin, Baela. While you knew she was only grieving for her dead mother, the scene had you in tears in a quick instant and immediately you ran back into the Driftmark castle, shoving guests out of your way while Aegon laughed from the sight. Jacaerys saw from a distance, wishing he could chase after you.

As much as you wanted to be angry at your twin, when you were tousled out of bed and into the hall, your anger and rage disappeared at the sight of your brothers bruised up and bloodied, you tried leeching towards Aemond for what he did, “How dare you lay your filthy hands on my brothers?! I’m glad your eye was taken! You freak! You should be blessed by the Gods that I was not there to end your life!” you shouted, having to be restrained by the knights as Alicent stared at you with terror and disbelief that you would threaten the Prince, “My King, your granddaughter is a spawn of evil! She should be punished as well!” Alicent cried as Rhaenyra threw you and your brothers behind her to protect you, you began holding onto Luke who quietly wailed while Jace held the both of you.

After Alicent had cut your mother, it was you who ended the silence that covered the room. Wishing for her head, you seethed, you were tired of how she and her family had always looked down upon your family. When court and the lords around the Seven Kingdoms had heard what was said and went down, you were seen as the Heartless Princess, to extent they begun saying you were a Kinslayer in the making.

As you began getting older, the more beautiful you had grown, though many lords would never fight for your hand after what was said during the funeral of Lady Laena but you did not care, not one bit. It even relieved you. You were a believer of the Valyrian Gods and intended to stay true to Targaryen customs by marrying within the family, your love for your twin brother had only grew and you had even begun to lust for him.

You had hope that Jace could see your devotion for him clearly, as he also had become older, you noticed how drastically and. well defined he had become, he was a true gentleman— had always driven himself to work harder and prove that he is fit to be King, and he was fit. He knew his house histories, he knew how to speak High Valyrian, knew how to wield a sword, and knew how to fly with his dragon. Your adoring older brother, now a man.

Everything about him now just makes you yearn for him even more, as you pleasure yourself every night— your thoughts were only of Jacaerys. Wishing your fingers were his, moaning his name under the piles of sheets as you hoped you get caught by him one day. While these nightly self-pleasuring continued, your brother was asleep only a few feet away, snoring and nearly falling off his bed, or that is what you assumed as you continued thrusting your digits out of your soaked cunt, letting out soft whimpers and moans that were easily heard by Jace. Hearing your angelic voice, the squelching noises that came from your side of the room had your brother hard every night.

Jace had tried to restrain himself, you were his sister afterall, his cruel sister yet so sweet like a goddess in his eyes. Hearing your continued moans and mewls, Jace moved his hand down to fist his cock, head already leaking through his breeches while he used your voice to get off. Fantasizing taking your maidenhood, burying his cock deep inside of you, soon having you carry his children, the thought that you both could be wedded. The endless thoughts racing in his mind had him finishing in his hand, spurts of hot cum on his hand and landing on his sheets.

Forgetting where he was at the moment, he let out a harsh moan. Coming back to reality, still hazy from his high, “Jace? Are you alright?” Your voice had Jace immediately realizing what just happened, trying to fix himself quickly— not wanting you to become worried. “I-I’m fine, sister. It was only just a nightmare.” Thinking of what to say at the moment, mentally slapping himself across the face for the answer he gave you, already knowing you would be worried for him for having a nightmare. Hearing footsteps approach the side of his bed, he tried to fix his breeches until you pulled the sheets off his body, witnessing his leaking cock and smeared cum all over his stomach.

Jace feared what you were going to say, “You dirty pig!” or “You were touching yourself while I was near?!” But instead you gave him an amused smile, scooting in his bed to lay beside him, taking your finger to swipe of his cum before licking it off, tasting him before you driven your lips to kiss him. A desperate kiss that you had longed for, making sure your brother knew of your desires as he took your maidenhood that night. There was no rest, you both had wanted to make up for the long times, you whispered to your brother, “I always wanted you, brother, to have no man but your cock in me. My cunt will only remember the shape of yours until I die.” Filling your tightened cunt with his fat cock until the Sun had arise, pounding into you so mercilessly as you let out moans slip from your swollen lips. You swore the handmaidens from the halls had heard you both that early morning, from the whines and skin slapping echoing through the chamber walls.

You both couldn’t be away from each other for more than a second afterwards, you continued these pleasures throughout Dragonstone. In the great library, in the study hall, right by the gardens and the shore of the sea. It was great when you both would take your lovemaking at the shores, during night, you were allowed to express your love for your twin vocally without a worry of getting caught, mewling and moaning as loud as you wanted while you ride Jace’s cock, eager to please him as his hands laid on your waist, sometimes cupping your heavy breasts that would bounce with each rise. Your hands resting on his chest as you leaned closer to place a wet kiss on his neck, noticing you started to grow tired from having to do most of the work. Jacaerys rises to reposition himself, directly facing you now as his bare chest pressed against your breasts. You were centimeters away from his face, ghosting your lips from his, placing your hands to hold onto his shoulders.

His arms moved to press you closer into his embrace, caging you as Jace took control, thrusting upwards of his hips. The pleasure coming back to you, completely had your body surrendering to him entirely as your brother started pounding up into your wet cunt with no desire of stopping, you moaned and whimpered. As it was just you two, you had always submitted yourself to him with obedience, letting your brother control you and having you turn into a full squirming mess whether you were underneath him or on top.

“Jacaerys! I want you..to ruin me!” Continuing to lose yourself, you had aimed to keep your eyes on him the whole night but you couldn’t help but shut them with your mouth hanging open once Jace started suckling at your breasts, harshly suckling before bringing his fingers to rub at your sensitive bud to bring you more pleasure. “My sweet, little sister..so good to me..I love you..” you widened your eyes at your brother professing his love to you, how you longed for this for years. You wrapped your legs around his torso, beginning to unravel. Jace had always made sure to have you cum before he did, feeling your wetness around his cock had only made him plunge inside you faster, slipping out a couple of groans as he spilled inside you, filling you up with his cum.

You swore you were seeing stars in your vision, Jace continued to thrust his seed into your cunt, you tiredly peppered wet kisses all over his face— wanting to stay in this position forever but to your disappointment, he pulled you off him and had you laying on the makeshift bed that was on sand, you both laid there naked right by each other’s side, “Eminna muña wed īlva, emili iā uēpa Valyrīha dīnilūks hae ao va moriot jeldan” (I’ll have mother wed us, we will have an old valyrian wedding like you always wanted.), turning to face your brother as he spoke, you lazily smiled and placed an open mouth kiss on his lips. You couldn’t wait to finally marry the man you always loved.

With Jace’s convincing and his way with words, he had the support of Daemon who was on board with the betrothal, Rhaenyra had finally agreed, believing it was only right and fair since it was an marriage of love. You expressed your gratitude to your mother and step-father with a hug and immediately began to plan the wedding that had happened after only a few days of the betrothal. During your wedding night, you and Jace could not leave your chambers. For days that continued, you had not left your chambers, the entire island surely heard it all, day and night. Your younger brother, Luke, was disgusted whenever he walked past your chamber doors since you were always loud.

Before it was even a month in your new marriage, you fell pregnant with your brother’s child, no one was surprised but Rhaenyra was rather upset with Jace for impregnating you so young, though you were rather contented and had only wished this wouldn’t be the last pregnancy. After your first labor with your firstborn son, you promised Jace that you would bring him more children than Queen Alysanne ever could.

With the years going by, you were blessed with three children and another on the way. Aelor, Daenaera, and Rhaella. The children surely favorited both you and your husband’s looks, no one could say they weren’t Jacaerys’, they certainly had his dashing looks too. But once they all gotten older, becoming the age to start bonding with their dragons that hatched in their cradles, you became much more protective with them. Striking a knight who dared laid his hands on the future King’s heir and ordering knights to take him to the dungeon to be tortured before walking away in hand with your sweet son.

Your lover was rather grateful to know that you would never act so vulgar in front of your children, they all turned out to be very kind and genuine. Your sweet Aelor possessed a kind soul, never resulting to violence as answers during his lessons. Daenaera had a passion for becoming a warrior and was allowed to participate with in training lessons with Aelor and Joffrey. As for your little Rhaella, she usually stayed in your shadow, clinging to you wherever you went and liked to sleep in your shared bed with Jace.

You often spent your time by Jace’s side with the children occupying themselves with books or toys. Reading your favorite to the children, Aegon’s Conquest, while their father was translating old texts nearby. “With Aegon riding on the Black Dread, Balerion, his sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya, joined him by his side on Vhagar and Meraxes..” you read out loud to the children who huddled by your feet to sit and listen, you rubbed your growing stomach with affection. Everything seemed to be perfect, you all were spending time with one another. This was all you could have asked for.

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Guys I’m sorry I didn’t update young and beautiful I promise I will!! But I was just in the mood to make dark reader content cus there’s barely any and I love it when reader is dark than Jace 😭 but wow that was a lot I might do a part 2 later lol

For @a-anselina hi pookums🤭

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