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kickingitwithkirk · 1 month ago

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Paschal Moon

Summary: Jensen finds crossing the tracks isn’t always a bad thing

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Astronomer!Reader

WC: 2358

Warnings: some angst, really bad punning(sorry) divorce, cheating, innuendos, cursing, reader says shit like I do IRL 😅

A/N: 10/24-I’ve fixed the grammatical errors and expanded this part, cause you know me, I can be chatty and I've written a sequel!

Square Filled: @winchesterandbeyondbingo -midnight @spnmixedbingo -secret dating @spnaubingo -wet dream @j3bingo -camping @howbadcanitbebingo -cliche galore

*Moldavite

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*no Beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

It was Thursday night, and once again, Jensen found himself the proverbial third wheel. The Padalecki’s meant well, dragging him everywhere with them since he filed for divorce, wanting to keep him from brooding with a bottle when not with his kids.

And it wasn’t that Jensen didn’t mind socializing. It was knowing the evening would be filled with repetitive I’m sorry, and the look of sympathy that sent him straight to the open bar first for many a shot nowadays.

Feeling the slight buzz he needed kicking in, Jensen put on his game face and, with another tumbler of liquid courage in hand, made the rounds, chatting amicably with various groups and catching up with old friends.

Things were going pretty well until some dumb fuck turned to Genevieve, loudly blurting they’d heard Danneel making the rounds with guys with more sizable assets was the reason for the divorce pissed off her moose-sized husband, who bellows shut your unprepossessing cake hole causes a momentary distraction allowing Jensen to escape out a nearby door before punching the sonuvabitch with the double entendre himself.

Slamming it shut, he stomped to the riverside view, wrapping both hands around the horizontal guardrail and squeezing like he was wringing a chicken's neck when the simultaneous swish of fabric and a hand holding half a glass of liquid appeared.

“Looks like you could use this more than me.”

Jensen’s eyes met those of the tall drink of water he’d noticed throughout the evening. Looking at the glass again made her laugh, “I’m not slipping you a Mickey.” Lifting it to her lips, he watched her throat ungulate as she drank and felt Jen Jr. rising to attention. “See, Peaches, I’m not some crazy stalker.”

Jensen takes the glass and feels a spark when their fingers brush. “Thanks, I wasn’t thinking..that.” Throwing back the rest, he appreciates the liquor's smooth slide down his throat. “It’s been a pretty shitty evening.”

“Preaching to the choir, Peaches! I came ‘cause my second cousin on my mama’s side girl broke up with him, and now I know why.” She bends over and retrieves a bottle, giving Jensen a fantastic view of her breasts artfully showcased in her cocktail dress, and pops up, pointing the bottle at him.

“That motherfucker thought he could pimp me out for a promotion! What the hell is it with people having a ring on it?” She grabs his left wrist, tilting it so the outdoor lights glint off the wedding band he hasn’t removed yet, “Acting like this means absofuckinglutely nothing?”

“Now you’re preaching to the choir. My soon-to-be ex was doing that while I was working in Vancouver and telling everyone it’s because I’m lacking.” Jensen couldn’t stop self-dissing since catching Danneel and one of his closest friends together.

“Hoooly shit! You’re the guy whose wife runs around saying you couldn’t find her clit with a map, GPS, or fucking bullseye paint on it!” Jensen’s eyes widened at her audacity. “Hell, most gals just use a vibrator if they wanna get off that bad. And did you just admit your package is..?” She wiggles her pinky finger while refilling the glass, “Don’t get me wrong, no shame if you know how to use it.”

She finally noticed his expression slapped a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry! My mouth doesn’t know how to stop once I get started. Blame it on my upbringing.” Jensen took a drink to cover his humiliation, and a stiffener for no telling what she’d say next asked, “Upbringing?”

Removing her hand reveals a guileless smile: “You know what they say, you can take the girl outta the trailer park.” Bewilderment crossed his face to her self-deprecating response. “Yeah, I’m that relative they always warned you about.”

“Little late with the warning, sweetheart.”

She burst out laughing, and Jensen found himself doing the same.

Later

Jensen couldn’t believe it.

In his profession, showing unscripted emotions was a sign of weakness many would exploit. Yet, here he was, a forty-three-year-old man usually in control, sitting outback of this building with a woman he’d never met before, who’d upended that control.

She was the distraction he needed before knowing it; he did something he’d never do under normal circumstances, told her everything, and got a response of, “That sucks balls, and not in a good way!”

“Kicker is; she wants alimony.”

“What a gall darn minute. You caught your almost ex doing the beast with two backs, right?” Jensen hums in response. “Peaches, I’m no lawyer, but I’d say that ain’t fucking happening,” She tips the second five-finger discounted bottle over the glass he’d again drained. “And no offense, your ex makes those whores back in Ratchet City look almost pious. Most have the decency not to fuck in your bed.”

Jensen rubbed his face, “I can’t believe I’ve told a stranger about my marital problems.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to unburden yourself to someone you don’t know.”

“I haven’t even told my family or Jared!”

“And Jared is?”

“The guy who has my back no matter what.” She ponders his response for a moment. “That’s probably why. You’re afraid that if he knows what happened, it’ll diminish how he sees you.” Jensen appeared confused. “Guys POV... if I caught my wife fucking around and saying it’s cause I couldn’t keep her satisfied in the sack, I’d not wanna discuss it either. But I know it’s,” wiggles pinky again, “Horseshit.”

“How?”

“You dress left, and I’ve never had an iPhone stand up to say hello.” Jensen struggled to formulate a coherent response. “Ahh, come on, Peaches, you know you’ve given many people wet dreams about the Ackelconda.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Cause you’ve got the juiciest peach of an ass, and I wouldn’t kick you outta bed for eating crackers,” she says, winking at him, but before he responds, they hear a booming, “Jensen!” Jared appears out the side door, walking towards them. “Fuck, man, I’ve been looking all over for you! We need to get going; it’s almost midnight.”

“Well, pooh, and here I thought I was going to get lucky,” she says as they stand up; a ringing church bell echoes across the river twelve times. “Guess it’s time to leave the ball and head back to the pumpkin patch.”

Walked past Jared, she nodded and was almost to the open door when Jensen yelled, “Wait!” She paused as he ran over, “You can’t leave this way. I don’t even know your name.” She held out a hand, “Give me your phone.” He unlocked it and noticed her smirk while she was typing. “Give me a ring if you ever cross the tracks, Peaches."

Both men appreciated her retreating form when Jared asked, “Who was that?” Jensen doesn’t answer until she disappears in the crowded room, then glances at the screen and gets his you’ve got to be kidding face.

“Cinderella.”

****

Weeks later

One afternoon, they were hanging out watching football, and Jared, tired of nagging Jensen about getting back on the horse and calling her, pulled out the big guns, telling him if he was going to act like a girl, maybe he should put on a skirt and call himself Jane.

That irked an inebriated Jensen, who fumbled his phone out of his pocket, pulled up her contact info…and chickened out again, tossing it on the couch. Jared saw her number on the screen and tapped call, knowing he risked getting kneed in the nads. Two rings later, her voice came through the speaker.

“Peaches, you’re slower than molasses crawling uphill in January giving a girl a holler.” Hearing her voice mellowed Jensen, and they agreed to meet on Friday at a hole-in-the-wall for lunch where he wouldn’t be recognized.

That lunch became dinner. Dinner became bar hopping, and after indulging in one too many, they sneaked into Blue Hole Regional Park, went skinny dipping, and did things that would scare fish. Afterward, she takes him to a Waffle House, somewhere he hadn’t been in years, for a bowl of 4 AM chili.

****

Monday morning, coffeeholic Jensen grumpily fumbles around the shoebox-sized kitchen in her hundred-year-old farmhouse, searching for a mug while waiting on an aged percolator to finish.

Bending over to look in the dishwasher, he discovers one with a rainbow-maned unicorn flipping the bird, saying, I Run On Caffeine Sarcasm & Cuss Words. Straightening up, Jensen bangs his head on an overhanging cabinet and finds the last two words apropos. Finally brewed, Jensen steps out onto the shady front porch, sipping on the dark roast, and sits in one of the old rockers, contemplating if he’s having a midlife crisis.

They were barely acquainted twenty-four hours before they got together, in the biblical sense. He heard Dean's gravelly voice telling him to stop being a dumbass, that he deserved this after the shellacking Danneel delivered the last few months.

What astounds Jensen is that when his heart broke harder than he knew it could, she was the solace he craved, and he began to believe it would mend with her.

Jensen was nervous because tonight was extra special.

A few months back, she bounded into his home excited about an upcoming celestial event and field trip her astronomy class was taking. She really, really wanted him to go, even though they agreed to keep their relationship secret until he’d finalized his divorce. It struck Jensen that it would be the perfect night to do something he’d wanted to do since their first date, so he said yes while mentally making other arrangements for the night.

****

“Peaches, this isn’t the way.”

“We’re not going there sweetheart.”

“I realize that Captain Obvious! What I want to know, wtf?! Are you trying to get me fired? I have a class...."

“That Dr. Carnegie is graciously covering.”

“Why is..what did you do Jensen?”

“I went to the head of your department,” she groaned, “And inquired if someone else could supervise because I’d planned a special night with my girl.”

“What happened to us keeping on the DL? Carnegie is the biggest blabbermouth! Everyone on the planet’s gonna know about us by morning!”

“My divorce was finalized this morning.”

“WHAT!” she indignantly squawked. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” Jensen bemusedly listened to her ongoing rant, eventually picking up her hand and kissing its back, entwining their fingers as he drove on for another hour to Inks Lake State Park. “Since when do you camp out?” She asks when he pays for an overnight camping permit. “Cause the one time I asked, you gave me stink face at the mention of a tent.”

“Since the day you bounded into my home all excited and asked me to come with you. I wanted to make tonight special.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I sincerely appreciate you compromising your creature comforts for me.” Jensen scratched the back of his head, “Well, it’s not technically camping out. I got an air mattress that fits in the truck bed.”

“I know it’s a yearly thing, so what makes this one so special?” Jensen asked as he gazed up at the moon awash with a vivid pink hue. The question made her lift her head from the telescope’s eyepiece, and an amused expression crossed her features.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? Or do you want me to paint you like one of those French girls?” Jensen peers down at his unintentional position: one hand tucked behind his head, bowed legs splayed, one knee slightly bent, his other hand lying near the sliver of skin peeking out between his dark henley and well-worn jeans.

“What makes this one so special?” She walks towards the truck, setting foot on the back bumper, gripping the tailgate, and hopping over it onto the mattress. “It is the moon's proximity to the earth.” She crawls forward, placing her hands on either side of his shoulders and slung a leg over Jensen’s hips, slowly sitting down. “Plus, being ultra-close, the color is so vivid that whatthehellisinyourpants!!”

Jensen quickly sits up, about to grab her waist so she doesn’t hit the sidewall, but she scoots down his legs. “That’d better be a sex toy in your pants and not Peyronie’s disease.” Jensen gave her a bewildered look. “What can I say? I like your cock as is. Curves just right for my pleasure.”

“Your mouth is gonna be the death of me..” “..but what a way to go?”

Jensen flopped on his back, groaning, “This isn’t how I imagined tonight going.” She smiled and crawled back over him, “So let’s pretend we’re on set. I’ve flubbed the scene and do another take.”

“That’s why I love you,” reaching up, Jensen tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The fact that everything that pops into my head comes flying out of my mouth?” Jensen chuckles at her question. “Yeah, I like you, just as you are.” He reaches into the pocket she sat on, pulls out a box, and opens it, revealing the ring he’d chosen. “And would be the luckiest man alive if you’d marry me.”

Taking her left hand, he slides it on her finger, feeling apprehensive at her silence. It is almost deafening, having never known her without any response. “Getting nervous here, sweetheart,” Jensen says as he sits up. "Look, I know we’ve only been together for a short time. I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way to answer right now.”

“What’s the stone?”

“Umm... it’s a Moldavite.” She gets that expression he still isn’t sure what to make of it. “I know it’s not conventional, and if you want to pick something else,” Jensen breaks off, watching her eyes fill with tears.

“You gave me this not ‘cause you’re being cheap. The stone, you knew what the significance of its origin would mean to me.” She cupped his cheek, “You’ve never put on airs with me, never been anything other than yourself. A genuine, caring, funny-as-hell doofus with a beautiful soul and I’m saying yes!”

Paschal Moon 2.0-coming 10/24

SPNTAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl @deans-spinster-witch

#updated 10/24 #paschal moon #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jared padalecki #spn rpf #supernatural rpf #supernatural

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sgiandubh · 6 months ago

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It's Innuendo Week

All the factions of this fandom are being served an extra helping of it - food for thought sterile speculation, low cost solution. Costs/impact ratio -> over the roof.

In the jungle, the mighty jungle, we have a tropical themed update (why?). The new playground is populated with inflatable animals galore:

... much ado about what probably is a coat and part of his costume, NOT a random dress...

This one could very well fit the bill, for example:

Solid innuendo always requires a sidekick and a tiny fic, too. Monkey to the rescue:

[Dear God, not That Driver again 🙄]

Impact:

Mordor: 'it's for Someone Else's Child' (nudge-nudge, wink-wink: have these women considered boring, but discriminating parameters like, for example, age of said child?)

Disgruntled Tumblrettes: ' it's to hide his Real, Gay Life under the radar, Ha-wa-wee 🐰 vibes on top' (have these women ever met a gay before?!)

Shippers (raise your hands, ladies 😉): ' it's a child's birthday', ' it's for the Blonde Bambino(s)', 'family time on set' (that is a sweet one, not to be entirely discounted, for many, many people on our side).

Fencers, at 2 PM local time (any time zone considered): ' it's for a child, but whose child?'/ at 5 PM local time: ' it's for Boo Whatever'/ at 8 PM local time: 'it's Norouzi's idea/ at 10 PM local time: 'read it through the grapevine it's the driver's granddaughter's birthday' (not substantiated) /at 1 AM local time, next day: 'will look around a bit more... I don't know what it is'/ at 2:45 AM, next day: 'zzzz' (jungle themed nightmare, pursued by an inflatable grinning monkey who sings the Skye Boat Song).

What if...

it was just the birthday of a child actor/extra on set?

it was just something for/about WWF?

it was just playing around with this entire fandom, bearing in mind Droughtlander is a reality AND boosting clicks & interest in the process?

I can understand where the family quality time on set theory might come from. I really do and no judgment whatsoever. But I would be quite reserved about S sharing something so personal, so openly, ever again on his socials. At least at this point in time.

Wide open innuendo seems to be the New Trend. Busy brains do not ask uncomfortable questions.

#fandom #shitshow

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theunholyrogue · 1 year ago

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the guys find out you have a mask k!nk (21+ minors dni!) bayverse turts! x reader

i have not fallen off the face of the earth! i have just FINALLY found the time to write after my classes ended for summer and even though it’s not something i’d normally write, i think it’s… fitting. :) ~ + it’s not because i’m also obsessed with ghost and konig from cod haha what

⚠️: mature themes; minors dni, mentions of an obvious mask kink, sexual innuendos, the devils tango doesn’t happen here sorry guys :( #notactuallysorry, characters are all of adult age (18+)

💙Leonardo💙

You and Leonardo had always been straightforward and open, from the moment the two of you became acquaintances, to best friends, to now partners. You both felt that communication was key— a key that was necessary to keeping your relationship alive and full of excitement as well as respect (along with the other vital roles!) So, when the time came that both of you were comfortable and ready to go all the way with one another, you both had a conversation about what you were both into, not cool with, possibilities, etcs, and that was that.

Except one thing.

You had been embarrassed to admit to a certain turn-on due to the fact that you didn’t think that Leo would understand.

Masks.

He wore one everyday, how he possibly understand?

The thought drove you insane until one night, when the two of you were getting freaky and Leonardo started to undo his mask, you boldly piped up.

“Leave the mask on.”

He stared at you, almost in bewilderment before his lips twitched into a smirk. He was onto you.

He didn’t question you on it right then— oh how dare he kill the mood! No, he waited until the two of you had gone four rounds and laid next to each other, panting.

You curled up into his side and he now draped his arm over you before opening his mouth.

“Again?”

“No.”

“Alright….”

Silence.

“A mask kink, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“All I’m saying is, I could’ve gotten so much more by leaving it on than by taking it off this entire time and you didn’t tell me!”

❤️Raphael❤️

It was summertime and you had managed to be able to snag a couple of nights off to be able to spend some time with your lovely partner, Raphael.

You two had been dating roughly after the technodrome and Kraang paid a visit to NYC, and not much longer after that is when you two started going at it ya freaks. You were both secure in the relationship, both had a healthy intimate life with one another and with yourselves if times were tough.

You being you, you had an unhealthy habit of not clearing your search history after naughty content, and will tend to forget about it until you need to search something on your phone— which isn’t that common with Donnie around.

So, whilst in the midst of spending one of your summertime eves with Raphael in the confinement of your apartment, you get up to go to the bathroom while he is watching a TV show on the television in front of you two. Confused by what the show had just ended on, he thought he had grabbed his phone to search the show for answers and whenever he pulled the browser up, his gaze was met of that which contained mask kink galore.

Raphael set your phone down, the website still pulled up as you hummed your way back into the room and once your eyes met the screen and then his, all he did was smirk and pat his lap.

“You got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

💜Donatello💜

You had always found it weird that you thought masks were such a sweet spot for you. You didn’t think that it could be considered a kink to like masks in the bedroom, or that the whole idea of kinks had just never been properly explained to you, so the conversations about them always made you feel awkward.

It took you a while to truly feel okay with just learning what you think you would like as far as kinks go, and once you found out that masks were a kink that others had, you felt a little less weird about the whole situation.

Not to mention that whenever you and Donnie started dating, you couldn’t help but imagine all the things he could do to you, simply because of the purple friggin mask on his face~. He never noticed how zoned out you would get around him until he had to draw you out of it.

Whenever he did find out was the time that the two of you finally decided to do the deed. He had felt like you wanted him to take his mask off, ironically, until you stopped him and asked him to keep it on. He didn’t think anything of it, but you overthought your request and had to explain it to him a few times that night that you felt like you were attracted to masks and needed a little bit a reassurance, which the turtle was very happy to give.

After finding that tidbit out, he was more than happy to surprise you every now and again with different masks to spice things up in the bedroom when he felt like his purple eye mask was getting too boring. (which it never was but-)

🧡Michelangelo🧡

You were not subtle in letting Mikey know that you had a mask kink.

You didn’t even know you had a mask kink.

The mask kink let you know that it had you.

Anywho, let me tell you the story.

Mikey was bragging about getting his hands on the newest copy of COD: MWII and had been playing it ever since he had gotten it.

You had been laying behind him watching tiktok during the time that everybody and their mother’s were falling head over heels for Ghost, König, or both, and making edits of them.

You had fallen into this trap and of course with your partner playing the exact game… you made him restart so that you could see Ghost in ALL of his glory.

Mask and ALL.

You had never once paid so much attention to a mask before until this very moment and made it known to Mikey that you really liked Ghost’s mask, and then you turned to Mikey.

Low and behold, he’s wearing a mask.

And goddamn you are turned on.

“Mikey, turn the game off.”

“But! I just restarted!”

“I said turn it off!”

“Okay!!!”

Mikay could not have been any less prepared for that evening than he was.

Mikey’s sucks I’m sorry—

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its-actually-minicika · 2 years ago

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The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 2;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader (rip king 🤍), Dark!Aemond x Reader (though it's very much one sided on his behalf);

Warnings: angst galore, mentions of SA, blood and gore, allusions and descriptions of death AND sex, book canon Aemond- need I go on?

Author's Note: The support received on the last part was insane :")) so here I am, writing another one! If this gets enough attention, I might just turn it into a series; Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy!

Also, this isn't proof-read; We die like men tonight :") Part 3 is out now! <33

(Y/N) and Ser Cain ride through burnt-down forests, scattered with ash and blood - twisted loyalties reveal their sick ambitions, and the girl is faced with a very tough decision.

"How'd you even manage to get into Harrenhal? Aemond may be blind in one eye, but he keeps an iron fist over who enters and leaves the Keep." Her hushed voice echoed through the empty forest.

Ser Cain looked at his lady with a glimpse of reverence, that could almost be confused with one of slight amusement.

"I must admit, I got plenty of help." He barked dryly, running a calloused hand through his blonde hair. "You may have had no friends among the Greens, but there was a certain wood witch that wanted you gone as soon as possible."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in momentary shock. Her mouth opened and closed back up again, before she finally managed to form a proper sentence.

"Alys? Alys Rivers?" She asked tentatively, amusement licking at her fair features.

"Us bastards always find a way to help one another," Cain let out a roaring laugh, that brought a level of warmth to the Lady's weary heart. "I wanted you safe, and she wanted you gone. We reached a deal very quickly after that."

"No way you struck a deal with Aemond's bedmate." The girl huffed out in disbelief, "She'll be in a lot of trouble if ever he finds out... There is hardly anything for her to gain from freeing a war captive."

"Aye, he will be mad..." Her sworn protector made a short pause, "Yet there's nothing that stirs someone on more than jealousy." The knight sighed, lost in deep thought. "She has everything to gain from this - the walls talk in Harrenhal, my Lady. And they... well, forgive me for being so blunt - speak stories on how the Kinslayer loses sleep by visiting you in your chambers at night."

The girl's cheek are caught ablaze; the innuendo was more than clear on Ser Cain's face alone. She stills her horse and throws him a jaded look.

"As you saw when you guarded my door, ser - he does intrude often. But there was never a moment where we..." As her words came to a halt, the girl huffed out in a discontented breath, "I would rather die than spread my legs open for the usurper's kin."

"I know." Cain reassured her, a wide smile plastered on his face. "With the way you were gripping that candle holder, ready to swing it at me, I can only imagine the hell you gave Prince Aemond."

"It wasn't nearly as much as he deserved. I'm afraid I failed to do Jace justice."

Wordlessly, Ser Cain reached for her saddle, and gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. His other hand came to grip the horse's bridle, forcing both mares into another sprint.

"We can't stay in one place for long." He wanted to apologise, but (Y/N)'s reassuring smile made him calm back down again.

"Trust me. If there is anyone who wants to put as much distance between them and that disgusting psychopath, it's me."

For a while, the only noise made in the smoked out forest was the gallop of the horses and their shallow panting. After a while, even that proved to be too little.

"I have to ask," The woman started, quirking her brow up at the knight, "Where are we going? Riverrun is hardly a safe space - Aemond will go there first, once he gets notified of my absence."

Following her own logic, (Y/N)'s eyes widen.

"My brothers. Father and grandfather...!"

"You needn't worry, my Lady!" Cain Waters assured the girl with a delicate brush on her arm, "We like to think that we thought of everything - and Riverrun has been emptied since the very beginning of the Kinslayer's wild attacks."

A sigh of relief etches it's way from the girl's throat.

"Your father raised your grandfather's army - he's marching to Dragonstone, with Kermit, to aid our true Queen. As for your youngest brother and grandfather, they're both in the Eyrie - where Lady Jane Arryn is expecting you, too."

"So that's were we're heading." (Y/N) concluded with a deep sigh. "We won't reach it tonight."

"No." Cain agreed, but soon added determinedly, "We'll probably reach the Saltpans on the morrow. We'll hide a while near the Trident and, when the time is right, march North towards the Bloody Gate."

"Gods be good, it will take us weeks." She exclaimed through a shallow breath. "We can't afford spare that much time. Aemond will be hot on our tracks, that much is for certain."

Cain's eyes softened at her outburst, and the robust man bit his inner cheek.

"We have to take this chance - for your safety, my Lady." He tried to encourage her with a crooked smile, "Do not worry about the Kinslayer. I'll kill him if he touches you."

The way in which he spoke oozed with honesty and determination. His eyes were like two silver daggers, scanning, searching for any danger that could put his Lady's life at stake.

Cain was a loyal knight, Lady Tully concluded, a trusted friend and fantastic travel partner. He was her sworn shield - and men, willing to devote themselves to a cause in the way he did, waiting for nothing in return, were very few and far between.

The tiniest shadows of a smile dance across her tired features. She takes in a deep breath, and allows her shoulders to relax.

"I know you will, Ser Cain." She confirms with a small nod, focusing her attention to the road ahead.

Still... when a dragon stands between a man and his duty, what brainless knight would ever rush to a lady's aid?

Aemond's footsteps echoed through the wailing keep. His armour fell heavy on his shoulders, and the sword in his grip was fully drenched in blood.

Of all the men slain by his hand that day, Simon Strong, the old fool, had screamed the loudest. He begged until his last breath for mercy of the Warrior and the Mother, for a chance to prove himself and his loyalty to the Crown, but to no avail.

Of all the guards assigned to Harrenhal by his darling mother, all but one died, as fallen victims to his endless frenzy.

"If the words you speak are truthful," Aemond mocked him with an airy laugh, "Then pick up this sword and clash it with mine. Should you be innocent, the Warrior will grant you strength enough to defeat me."

But no Warrior, and no other God, beckoned his call that day.

Instead, Simon Strong died with his head severed, and body still twitching with a sword in hand.

Now, it was Aemond's turn to wail and sigh at the sight before him - the last knight he kept alive, a boy as green as grass, petrified beyond belief.

When he spotted the One Eyed Prince, the boy all but fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness through tear stained cheeks and apish breaths.

"Your Grace, please, you must believe me!" He deplored helplessly, "I had no part in this - I didn't know!"

Aemond felt his lips quirk up in a cruel smile. The view below him was beyond pitiful; a most amusing glimpse into what the Conqueror himself must have experienced when he put Westeros through the judgement of steel and flames.

Still, even the most amusing jesters become ridiculous when faced with the passage of time.

"Exactly. You didn't know." His honeyed voice rang out into the cluttered room. The Crown Prince took a step forward, reveling in how the knight pressed himself deeper into the ground. The stench of piss flared up his nostrils.

The boy had shat himself.

His whimpers broke through the otherwise silent room. A mixture of "Please"s and "Your Grace, don't"s - it left Aemond dissatisfied and forlong, irked to no end.

"You say you have seen this knight around." He hummed in admission, "Pray tell, what was his name again?"

"C-Cain! Cain Waters! He was a broad man, with a straight stubble and long, blonde hair!" He shook his head after each and every word, desperate to prove himself. "He had a scar - right here, on his left arm! And a broken nose - it curved to the left side, and he said he'd gotten it from a brawl!" The boy blabbered incoherently, spewing as many things as he remembered from the immediate memory.

Aemond chuckled at his words, raising his hand out to stop the disordered boy. Wordlessly, he held his arm out, enouraging him with a curt nod to raise to his feet again.

"You have an excellent memory, do you not? It seems like you remember a lot of things."

The knight nodded fevereshly, trying his hardest to stop his limbs from giving out.

"Yes, yes, Your Grace! I talked to him countless of times, I can recognise his voice with my eyes closed!"

Aemond quirked his head to the side, and let out another curt laugh.

"Good, very good, indeed! And, tell me..." As he spoke the last of his words, Aemond Targaryen got closer to the shaking boy, "You call this level of interest... not getting involved?"

Without waiting for an answer, Prince Aemond let go of the soldier's hand, running his sword through his stomach in a simple, yet effective movement.

"Y-Your G-Gh..." He strained himself to hiss though his bloodied mouth, before falling on his knees, his hand placed atop his wound.

"You've proven yourself very useful." Aemond asserted dryly, "Just as you said."

The Prince turned back on his heel again, and began marching towards the open door. With a bored expression on his face, he threw the child one more dejected look, and added, "But I've simply no more need for you."

The knight's endless gagging filled the room with a paculiar sense of dread. Somewhere along his way, Aemond got a hold of a kitchen wench; he grabbed her with his bloody hand, and clicked his tongue in pure disdain.

"Clean that up." Was all she was instructed to do.

Daylight had long broken the sky in two, as Cain and (Y/N) finally reached the Saltpans of the Trident.

Tired, and famished far beyond belief, the two stopped at the gate of an ale house, dismounting their horses and knocking on the door politely.

A couple of seconds went by, until a small click of a key was heard on the other side. An old woman stepped outside, holding out a crossbow, that was still too big for her wide frame.

"I said, no more scoundrels, and ruffians, and thieves, and men! Away, away with you!"

Her wrinkled hands swished and flicked about, right under Cain's nose, who swallowed a small laugh, and gently raised his hands out in taciturn surrender.

"No ruffians, scoundrels or thieves sit in front of you, ma'am. ... Though, of being a man, I must admit I'm very guilty."

Upon hearing his words, the old lady shook her head, with a strength so great, (Y/N) was sure her eyes would pop out.

"Oh, no, no! I said, no more of those around here!" She repeated again, though she lowered her crossbow from Cain's face, upon hearing the sound of his mellow voice.

"Madam, I... We beg you to reconsider." The Lady's voice rang through the open clearing. As she glanced up at the old, plump woman, her features turned soft and pleading, begging for help, like a child would to her wise mother.

She gripped Cain's biscep with her left hand, ensuring that their host would see her amethist ring, that now rested upon her ring finger. "My husband and I are so tired from our long journey and... as you said, Madam, the streets aren't safe."

The house's owner squinted at them with a hardened look, but then, almost too suddenly, she stepped aside for the two to come in.

"You'll have to forgive an old spinster," The woman smiled tightly over her shoulder, "It's just that in these parts of the Reach, you don't know in who to trust."

"Aye, we hear that." Cain replied with a warm smile, leading his lady inside with a hand respectfully placed above her waist. "Great thinking!" He leaned in to whisper in her ear, congratulating her on the ability to adapt to their situation so fast. "If I didn't know any better, my Lady, I'd say you didn't need me to make the trip."

She gave her a polite smile, and sheepishly bowed her head.

"Perhaps you don't know any better, then." She laughed at him teasingly, before moving her attention back to the old maid.

"My husband and I travelled no small distance - we live near Bitterbridge, but we decided to join with our relatives near Crossroad's Inn." She gave Cain's hand a tight squeeze, and looked at him affectionately, before pressing on. "With with the war looming over us, nothing is more important than family."

The old lady smiled at them, showing off her three gold teeth. Her eyes held no malice now, and she shifted her weight from her left foot to speak. "Mine mother was from Goldengrove - a proper Lady. She was almost a lady in waiting for Brianna Tyrell."

Looking almost wistfully to the side, the inn wench let out a melancholic sigh.

"Oh, but what am I sharing these stories for?" She questioned jokingly, while clasping her hands together. "I'll prepare breakfast for you two. And a bed - to sleep in for the night."

Cain offered the woman a small nod, and smiled tightly in reply.

As she made herself busy with boiling some eggs, the man leaned in, muttering lowly to his lady.

"She didn't ask us for how long we'd stay. She assumed right away we'd be gone tomorrow."

Taking in his cautious words, (Y/N) hummed, as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

"And if her words are true about her mother, then she served as vassal for the Hightowers, as well."

"Do you think she's a Loyalist, my Lady?" The knight choked on his own breath.

"It might be too soon to tell."

The man's eyes fell back on the dirty window, that offered but a shallow peek into the outside world. His face contorted to one of great concentration - Much like it did years ago, (Y/N) mused to herself, before an important Tourney.

"We'll tread lightly. ... It might be a good idea to show our support to Aegon when we talk amongst ourselves at dinner."

"An easy conversation to over-hear, of course. Especially after a glass or two of wine."

Their little dialogue ceased a moment, and both travellers shot each other a warm smile.

"W-W-Wait, just because I brought the letter here, that don't mean I'm gon' speak to the young master, too-" The strained voice of a serving maid bounced off the stone walls of the black Crypt.

She looked around frantically, shaking her head with so much dedication, that her braid came undone onto her shoulders. The servants around her made no attempt to soothe the girl, or take her under their protection - for they, too, were scared of the wrath that resided deep inside of Aemond.

Still, a raven, who's beak carried a letter that spoke naught on the outside, besides it coming from an inn in the Saltpans, had come to Harrenhal that afternoon.

A more educated one from the flock of young maids tried to decypher its contents in the light of day, but to no avail. The letter had to be opened. And it had to be opened by their reckless Prince, first.

"H-How do we even know it's something important?" One elder girl chirped shyly. "What if it isn't, and Prince Aemond punishes us for wasting his Grace's time?"

A shuddering thought went through each and every resting body, that rang clear through their bodies, like a blade would on young flesh.

"And what if it is important?" Another spoke up, "We'll all be executed for not bringing it to him, sooner!" She sobbed into her hands.

"Bring what to Prince Aemond?"

The rise of the unknown voice elicited a scared gasp from each member of the pitiful assembly. Comically, they all turned on their heel at once, gripping their throats in horrified wonder.

None but Alys Rivers stood before them, her own hands resting on her hips and her cascade of black hair, fraiming her expecting face in a gruellingly gorgeous way.

"Seven hells! You had us scared to death, Rivers!" One maid or another chastised her deeply.

Upon hearing the lack of reverence in her voice, the Strong witch clasped her hands tightly together, and glared upon the crowd with a look full of disdain.

"You ought be careful with how you address me. You forget yourself, wench."

Her words were cutting and scornful, and yet, they had no effect on the defying servant.

"I should be careful with how I speak to you?" The tiny woman let out a small scoff, "'Tis you who should sooner not forget her standing. You aren't mistress of this Keep. You are naught above us in station."

Caught in the red, Alys scorned down at the meek, servant girl. Her back turned awfully straight, and she demured in a demanding tone.

"You will either tell me at once what it is you're hiding, or I will have my Aemond take all of your heads." She let out a small chuckle, and carried on, "You'll see how much power I have over this keep and you - for I carry the Dragon's son, and his fires already lick at my womb."

The possibility of Alys Rivers carrying the Kinslayer's bastard sent a shiver down their hollow spines. Soon, the girls threw each other a despondent look, and settled their eyes upon the floor.

"It's... a letter from the Saltpans... m'lady." The same maid who provoked her now spoke. "We don't know of it's contents, but..."

Silence fell over the windy crypt. Alys quirked up a brow in amusement, and extended her arm out in palpable anticipation.

"I'll carry it to him, then. Make haste, give it to me, and begone."

For once, her command was almost immediately executed. The plump girl that had brought the raven inside hurried to give the parchments to her, and scurried along the dark hall, making herself scarce and unseen.

Alys' green skirts kissed the grounds which the woman walked, leaving a rustling echo along the large halls with every calculated step.

She reached for Aemond's Quarters, and slyly made her way inside.

"My Prince," Her voice rang out, "A letter addressed to you has just arrived."

The eager polishing of Aemond's sword was the only noise in the room for a while. He hummed expectantly, putting an end to his endeavours, and getting a hold of the enclasped letter with two of his long fingers.

Silently, much like a predator would it's prey, he analysed its contents, feeling a smug smirk tugging at his upturned lips. He lowered it after a while, and looked out the window, lost in the depthness of his thoughts.

"My Prince, what does it say?" Alys inquired officiously, dropping her head over his thighs. "Is it of an important matter?"

Aemond let out a joyous laugh - and, whether it was due to his amusement over Alys' stupid question, or due to the contents of the flimsy letter, was up to anybody's guess.

"Tell those kitchen wenches to prepare for a grand feast for tonight. We have reason to expect very pleasant company."

The man rose from his chair and smirked to himself once more, before making his way towards the grand oak doors of his private chambers.

He stopped on his tracks, however, to assert the woman on his bed once more.

"Alys... should you come to my room unannounced again, I will have your head for it." He uttered neutrally, with a bemused rise of his brows.

"Do you think it wise to leave tonight?" Cain's pleasant voice rang through the girl's ears, as the two made good haste scarping down on the dinner they paid for.

"Tonight?" The girl hushed back at him, before taking a sip of her wine. "You don't trust the old lady, do you?"

"Aye, I must admit, I don't." Cain confirmed her laid out question, as he followed the woman's form into the small kitchen again. "I can't shake off the feeling that something bad is about to happen."

Placing her hand atop his in a pacifying manner, (Y/N) squeezed tightly, putting an end to his restless thoughts.

"Then we should leave tonight. Wait until she's fallen asleep, sneak out and mount our horses. We can sleep when we reach the Bloody Gate, or hidden away in the forest." She concluded with a stone faced look.

Cain bit his lower lip and clicked his tongue in distaste for the plan. "I'm sorry for making you go through this, my Lady. A young woman shouldn't be forced to sleep outside, under such pitiful conditions."

"But it's better to be safe than sorry," She assured him once again, "And I've slept in worse than grass and branches - you should know."

The knight's face twisted into pure rage.

"I swear to you, my Lady, I will have his head for all he made you go through. I will."

"There would be no one else I trust more with the task." She smiled at him happily, and a pang of sisterly affection surged through her bones. "Let's finish eating. Then we'll retire in our room and start packing up."

Cain nodded in agreement, and offered the girl one of his many placid smiles.

The evening went on with little to no commotion - the night displayed the hour of the wolf, when the two finally made their way outside their room, and onto the small corridor that led to the stables.

Still, their footsteps, however careful, alerted their horses, who'd grown so accounstomed to Cain's presence.

With a small huff of their muzzles, they rested their head upon the separating barrier, and shook their manes expectantly.

"That's it, those are my good girls." Cain hushed to them, untying their bridles from the putrid wall. "Let's go for a ride, shall we?"

In the same manner he did the night before, (Y/N)'s sworn shield helped her up the saddle, and secured her belts in place. Soon came his turn, and, before they both knew it, the pair was exiting the stables with tentative steps, stopping at the entrance.

"We'll take to the North road, but we'll travel slightly East. We'll be on Arryn grounds... and hopefully more safe."

"That sounds like a plan." Lady Tully agreed with a tight expression on her face. She let out a shaky sigh, opening the inn's gates with a strong jerk of her hand.

Cain clicked his tongue once, twice, three and four times, until both horses broke into a hasty sprint. With his hand over both bridles, he guided the horses over to the stony road.

The night was clear. The shadows scarce. And yet...

A looming figure washed up before them both, swallowing the light of the moon and shaking their foundations to the very core.

"Ha..." (Y/N) let out a laugh in disbelief, feeling her heart rising to her throat.

Cain's face tightened, and his knuckles turned white over the saddle's head. His body contorted in fear and disgust for the man above them, as he took in a deep breath.

"Run." He instructed dryly.

When a horse races with a dragon, which one of them wins? - It was a rather stupid question, for this was a race that the poor horse would lose everytime, no matter it's good breeding or strong muscle mass.

"TO THE FOREST, BACK INTO THE FOREST!" Ser Cain yelled out, turning both animals around, hoping for a chance of escape.

"Have you lost your mind?! He'll burn the trees down!" His lady's reply came and went, swallowed by the wind, and the ring of Aemond's cruel laugh.

"What other choice do we have?!"

That much was true, the lady admitted inside her head. Aemond was ruthless, and, chances were, they would both die either way. If there was even a slither of hope that they'll survive by confusing the man, they had to take it.

As the horses ran, Cain tried his best to untangle their bridles, but (Y/N) shouted after him.

"Don't!! Aemond won't burn me with his dragon, he needs me alive for my grandfather's banners! But he won't hesitate to hurt you, should we be separated!"

With one hardened breath after the other, the two made their way back into the forest, where Cain reached out to unbuckle his lady's saddle. His stiff fingers made slow work - the exhaustion, fear and speed with which they galloped made it extremely hard for the knight to see even three inches ahead of him.

"We get off the horses!" He alerted the woman, as beads of sweat rolled off his forehead. "From that distance, he can't see us - he'll think we're still on them! We'll have to run from that point on, but we must take the chance!"

(Y/N) replied in kind with his instructions, and both lady and loyal knight jumped off their horses' saddles, hitting the ground with a ferocious impact.

Pain surged through her limbs and bones, but Cain quickly grabbed her hand, and dragged her further into the forest, and farther away from Aemond's roars.

Their strained breaths and silent whimpers echoed through the quiet woods - they ran and ran, until their feet gave out on them, and the two reached a small cave.

"Come -" The man encouraged with a raspy voice, as his knees buckled below him.

For a while, there was silence. (Y/N) swallowed thickly, and whispered to her tired knight.

"We should stay here for a while. Maybe an hour, or... Shit, he won't leave either way, will he?"

"Aye, my Lady, not without you." His grey eyes came to clash with her (y/e/c) hues. A look of strange determination took a hold of his harsh features, contorting his brows in such a way, that they almost mended through themselves.

"From here we could go to Maidenpool. The forest covers enough a distance for such a feat."

"Maidenpool?" The girl's voice shook with fear, "It's nose to nose with King's Landing - going there is a death sentence!"

She closed her eyes tightly and kicked her leg into a nearby stone. "Shit, shit, shit - we were so close!"

"I shall challenge him to a fair fight." Cain mustered up to say. "The Kinslayer has no honor. But he still values the tradition."

The lady's eyes shot wide open, and her head shook to the side. "No, absolutely not. Aemond is well rested - you haven't slept in two days!"

"I must. What other choice do we have?" He repeated with a shaky voice, as he wobbled back on his feet again. His eyes trailed over the girl's small silhouette, and patted her back keenly.

"You stay here, my Lady. Should I arise victorious, I'll come back and find you."

With each word of their heated dispute, both companions raised their voices.

"No - not a chance. As your Lady, I'm commanding you; and as your friend, I'm begging you - let me come with."

"There should be no need for that." Aemond's deep voice rumbled out.

Cain wasted no time to place the girl behind his back, and unsheathe his sword with one swift movement.

"... How?" (Y/N) asked him in pure disdain and disbelief.

"Lady Alys sees many things. Before I left, she saw you in the fires of the kitchen, wasting away in this cave to rot."

The Crown Prince gave the girl a mellow smile, as he took a step ahead.

"At first, it made little sense to me. Especially since that withered whore sent me a raven, assuring me of your whereabouts in her inn." Hearing the calmness in his voice, the girl spat out a low curse.

But Aemond laughed at her display, and gently shook his head.

"The view you get atop a dragon, My Lady, is a very valuable thing. You can already guess my frustration when all I saw were pesky trees, but then... then I saw this cave."

Cain let out a low growl, and measured the One-Eyed Prince with his wild stare.

"None of that matters now." He spoke calmly, cutting him off, "We've to reach an agreement, Kinslayer. Pull your sword out now, and face trail before the Gods."

As his eyes trailed across Aemond's clean armour, the knight let out a strained snarl.

"Lest you be scared to, of course."

That seems to be the final drop for Aemond, who suddenly unsheathes his own Valyrian steel sword, and places it atop Cain's breastplate. "You'll regret ever taunting a dragon."

"We'll see."

Having said the last of their words, the men swayed on their feet, clashing steel with steel. When Aemond charged him, Cain moved barely fast enough to avoid the blade's sharp edge.

No sooner was Aemond's first slash blocked, that the knight made another - this time, the Kinslayer's armour proved to be pivital, as the sword rang though his breastplate, without making any damage to the warm body inside.

Hard and fast the cuts came, from low and high, from left and right, and each one Cain managed to block. The frustration in Aemond's eye etched itself into Vhagar's mighty roar, so barbaric and wild, that it sent a shiver of dread down (Y/N)'s spine.

Her knight caught one blow high on his armour, and a painted trout had lost its head. He countercut, and the Prince imposed his own shield, lunching in a fiery backslash.

Cain moved to his right, but the Kinslayer blocked him with a quick side-step, and drove him back the other way... towards the darkness of the cage, hoping to blind him and take his head.

The knight gave ground until he felt the shadows dancing on his back. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him what was way behind, and that recklessness almost cost him his head, when Aemond began his attacks anew.

One hit over his legs by (Y/N)'s dagger sent the Prince tumbling on his back, but he surged his way on his feet again with a rash counter-attack. He let out a wild roar, and his cold steel plowed into Ser Cain's flesh, where his shoulder joined his neck, stopping at the knight's breastbone.

The blood came rushing out in a hot, black gush - Ser Cain's knees folded slowly, as if for prayer, and when he opened up his mouth, only blood came out.

"NO!" The girl yelled out in a blood curling shriek, and she tumbled forward, trying to get a hold of the knight's bloodied cape.

With his last ounce of strenght, Ser Cain pushed the girl aside and slashed his sword up in the air - but Aemond spun like a turret, and blocked his mindless hack with a teasing smile on his face, discarding his sword to the side.

"I hope your God's a sweet one, Waters bastard." Aemond hummed through his hooded eyes, "For you're going to meet him shortly."

Wincing from the pain that was now licking at his opened flesh, Ser Cain spat over Aemond's boots, while gripping his shoulder to stop the endless rivers of blood, that were being eaten by the dirt.

Unamused, though still smirking, the One Eyed Prince raised his sword in the air, to deliver that one, final cut.

"STOP!" The Lady's voice rang through the tiny cave, grasping Aemond's attention.

Standing tall, she gripped Cain's sword in her own stilled hands, and brought it back to her own stomach.

"If you kill Cain now, I'll run this blade right through my insides!"

As if fallen under a spell, Aemond spat a low curse out, and rested his sword back on his hip. Wordless still, he pushed the knight down with the end of his Achile's heel, but raised his hands up in quiet surrender.

"I mean it!" She sobbed into the open space, her eyes never leaving Aemond's. "We'll see then what kind of support you'll receive from the Riverlords for your usurper kin!"

As if to accentuate her words, she pressed the sword deeper into her scorching heat, applying enough pressure to draw out a little cove of blood.

"Let him go. Let him live, and you can bring me back to Harrenhal, yeah?" The girl asked the Targaryen Prince tentatively.

"Hmm."

So very slowly, Aemond's feet carried him to (Y/N)'s direction. With one hand still raised in the air, he lowered the hilt of Cain's sword, pushing the tip away from her convulsing body.

His lonesome eye trailed low, enough to meet the poke of her clothes, and Viserys' second son let out a disappointed sigh.

His hand reached to cup the girl's jaw, and he gingerly turned it from side to side - inspecting it, just as he'd done when they first clashed wits in her prison cell.

"You've lost weight." He remarked through a furrowed brow.

Suddenly, his hand trailed lower still, all the way down to her neck, which he gripped gently, possessively.

"You are in no position to make demands. Do you think he won't come after you again if I let him live?"

"You all but severed his right hand - he will never fight again." The girl begged him with logic and fact, whilst swallowing thickly, as her heart hammered out of her chest.

"Let him live." Her hand ghosted above his tightening grip, her eyes frantically searching for his. "If you do so, I won't put up a fight ever again."

The final words of her vow caused a pleasant shiver run down Aemond's back. He falthered his grip on her throat, and moved both hands to cage her in between his body and the cold stones.

"Keep your... fucking hands... away from her." Cain hissed from his laying place, trying his hardest to get back up on his feet again.

Aemond's body tensed again, but, before he could move away from (Y/N) and do anything, the girl gripped his cheeks with both hands and brought his eye on her again.

"Stop it, Cain." She preleened through a shaky breath. "It's done."

Aemond's throat rumbled out in a purr of satisfaction, and he harshly grabbed the woman to bring her outside with him.

The monstrous Vhagar awaited them with open wings - and an open jaw -, which made the girl stop on her tracks and plant her feet into the grimy ground.

"I can't get on top of that-!" She uttered pleadingly, shooting Aemond down with a jaded look.

"You will watch your tongue, churl. That is Vhagar. And you will be riding her tonight." He pulled the woman near him and approached his dragon with four swift steps.

'The bond between a dragon and their rider it's a sacred thing.' Jacaerys' voice rang out in her ears.'The dragon always knows what the rider is feeling... Sometimes even better than the man himself.'

"You should be honoured." Aemond disrupted her trail of thought with an assertive remark, "Very few have been introduced to the Queen of the Dragons before."

His touch made her nauseous. Her head was swirling with a hundred unanswered questions, and the way Vhagar looked at them both only stirred her along more.

As Aemond reached for (Y/N)'s hand, the she-dragon let out a disapproving roar.

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." He hushed gently, as if sharing a sensual secret with an old lover. "Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa."

His rough palm clutched the girl's one tightly, and he jerked her hand forward to touch the dragon's scales.

Restless, Vhagar tried to move away, rejecting the touch of the woman she didn't deem safe for Aemond.

'Dragons have a way of knowing how we all feel. If you wanted me dead now, Vermax wouldn't be so keen to please you.' Jacaerys laughed inside her ear.

But (Y/N) wanted Aemond dead. And of course, Vhagar knew that.

It came to no surprise that she was declining her touch. Still, Aemond persisted.

He moved behind the girl's small frame, and pressed his body against hers so harshly, that she tumbled forward, coming into full contact with Vhagar's scarred belly.

"Gīda, Vhagar." He whispered again, "Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības."

Slowly, yet surely, the weary groans of the she-dragon ceased, as Aemond kept reassuring her.

When the Prince felt the bond satisfactory enough, he threw the woman over his shoulder, and began climbing to his dragon's saddle.

(Y/N) let out a disparaging heave, and she had to repeatedly remind herself just how close she was to a dragon's jaws, as to not hit Aemond over the head with all her strenght.

Once they reached the top, Aemond gently lowered her onto the saddle, making fast work on the belts around them.

His hand ghosted between her legs, in a feigned attempt to check the bindings, and the lady shot him a disapproving frown.

Whilst letting out a dangerous chuckle, Aemond shook his head and mounted himself behind her. "Are you ready?" He murmured into her left year.

Not even waiting for an answer, he rose his head and commanded clearly;

"Sōvegon!"

Thoughout the whole ride, the girl kept her eyes closed, despite Aemond's numerous attempts to make her open them.

They reached Harrenhall not even twenty minutes later, and the lady had to stiffle a bitter laugh as she dismounted the glorious beast.

If only her and Cain could have travelled faster; then nothing bad would have ever happened.

Cain...

She turned to glance at the ground, and closed her eyes for a quick prayer.

Though she believed not in the Old Gods or the New, her heart beckoned her to hope for his safety.

She let Aemond carry her back inside, not even paying attention to her surroundings.

He lost a lot of blood, her psyche echoed back to her, But there is a chance he made it out there.

The light click of doors closing grounded her back to her harsh reality. Peeling them from the ground, Lady Tully turned her eyes to the decour of the room, and took a step back once she realised this wasn't her old tower.

"You'll be sleeping with me from now on, My Lady." Aemond's velvety voice fell upon her deafened ears. "We won't have any other shameful accidents - not as long as you're under my protection."

The woman felt as if she could gag at any given moment. If Aemond thought, just for a second, that she'd bed him or become his whore, he'd be unpleasantly surprised.

She'd rather sleep on the floor. Or see herself rot back in the Dungeons.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Aemond let out a low hum.

He came before her, and scooted closer. His hand reached up, resting above her collarbones, and his breath hitched in his throat.

Timidly, his fingers came down to gently carress them, and the One Eyed Prince had to bite back a deep moan.

The contrast between his rough fingertips and her soft skin felt exquisite, and so, so right.

For a second, he thought about the kinds of sounds that might come from her haughty mouth as he slowly entered her. How her face would twist in pleasure, as he gradually, gently, taught her the art of the bedroom.

His lustful thoughts came to an end when he noticed how her face contorted in disgust and displeasure.

Familiar anger flared within him.

She was a whore. A lowly girl who, no doubt, spent every day spreading her legs to his bastard nephiew before, taking him into her sacred depths whenever he so wished to.

So why was she resisting him?

Did she not feel his touch as electrifying as hers was for him?

"Don't be scared. I will not bed you." He uttered near her swollen lips. "I take no pleasure in claiming what's not freely given."

An arrogant smirk tugged at the ends of his upturned lips.

He brought his thumb to brush over her lower lip, toying with it until he forced himself to let it go.

"But it's in a whore's nature to be begging for cock. And you will be pleading for mine before the Spring's end, I can promise you that."

Taglist:

@ohitsthemaster @bellameshipper

Translations:

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." = Be calm, Vhagar;

"Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa." = Obey my words. Stay still;

"Gīda, Vhagar." = Calm, Vhagar;

"Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības." = Serve me. Listen and obey;

"Sōvegon!" = Fly;

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys strong #house of the dragon #jacaerys valaryon #the harshest winters #dark aemond #Spotify

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loycspotting · 3 months ago

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21. Ewan McGregor Movie Review: Down with Love (2003)

Genre: Comedy/Romance

Rating: PG-13

Director: Peyton Reed

Starring: Renée Zellweger, Ewan McGregor, Sarah Paulson, and David Hyde Pierce

Synopsis: Aspiring author, Barbara Novak, trades her small-town life for the Big Apple in order to promote her new book, "Down with Love." The book stirs up controversy with its message to help women achieve equality by saying no to love and yes to sex. When Catcher Block, resident playboy and New York's #1 journalist, is personally affected by this shift of the sexes, he plots to expose Barbara Novak as a fraud by getting her to fall in love with him.

Ewan Review: Ewan plays the character Catcher Block. Catcher is famous for being THE socialite of New York City. Women want him, men want to be him, and he's highly respected in his field as a journalist. Yes, life is perfect for him...until Barbara Novak shows up out of the blue and turns society on its head! His pride and reliance on the status quo can't bear to see this happen. So, he does what any logical man would do: wage a battle of the sexes! Ewan surprisingly speaks in his Scottish accent for this role! He also speaks in a southern accent which isn't any good, but I'm going to give him a pass this time because of the context. He has two shirtless scenes and LOTS of kissing scenes. I'm talking straight up making out, y'all. There are sex jokes galore and he gets to make his fair share of them. He doesn't have any sex scenes but he does have an implied erection scene. Lastly, he has a stellar song and dance number. His acting performance is incredible. I also just want to add that he is outlandishly handsome in this movie. I don't know how to explain it, especially because he's handsome in practically all his roles. He's a naturally handsome guy, but the way his attractiveness was amplified ten-fold in this movie did not go unnoticed by me. Please tell me if you understand what I'm talking about.

Screentime Percentage: Ewan is on screen for a grand total of 47/102 minutes making his SP 46%.

To Ewan or not to Ewan: Is the movie worth watching for Ewan in general? 1000% YES! Is it worth watching in general? Yes!

Where to Watch: "Down with Love" is available for rent on Amazon Prime Video, YouTube, and Google Play Movies and TV. You can watch it for free on soap2day.

Closing Thoughts: This movie is an homage to the sex comedies of the 1960s and is played out like one. It takes place in 1962 and the way it transports the audience back to that time is nothing short of fantastic! The costumes, editing, set design, manner of speech, soundtrack, everything down to the last detail was dripping in nostalgia and it was a blast! I feel the need to stress though that this a SEX comedy. It's about sex. It's all the characters talk about, it's the driving force of the movie, and dirty jokes/sexual innuendos are the foundation of it. Just think it over before popping it in for family movie night.

#ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor characters #ewan mcgregor movie review #film review #movie review #emsp #ewan mcgregor screentime percentage #down with love #renee zellweger #catcher block #sarah paulson #romcom #swinging sixties #david hyde pierce

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t-lostinworlds · 2 years ago

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It’s (a) November Baby! | Tom Holland

》 PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship; fluff; crack-ish

》 SUMMARY: Tom partakes in a bet with the boys in No Nut November. But what happens if you're a November baby?

》 WARNINGS: whoriness/horniness, language, suggestive themes (mentions of sex, make out sesh, teasing, peeks at lingerie), pet names (love, baby, my love, darling, sweetheart, pretty boy, and uhm, sir), betting/wager, british banter? (lads being lads innit LMAO), innuendoes galore, bad jokes, dad jokes, dirty jokes, jesus jokes?? (...yep you read that right. it’s more religious/catholic jokes but nothing too bad i promise 😭), reader goes to the gym with tom (like one scene), nakedness (non-sexual...kinda? it’s super quick lol), implied smut at the end (nothing detailed, honestly this is pretty tame)

》 WORD COUNT: 7.1k+

A/N: there’s this thing called No Nut November & it always made me wonder what do ppl born this month do on their birthdays like, do u not get to treat yourself? LMAO so this is for my fellow november babies out there <3 well.....we are a week into december but that’s beside the point LMAO. i’m so consistent at being late with these things honestly. i mean, this was meant for last year and finally just finished it lol. but hey, it got finished <3 ksksks hope you guys enjoy! (just realised how suggestive that gif actually is lol if u know u know)

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ TOM HOLLAND MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Tom was competitive.

If there was a word best to describe him, that surely would be one of them.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing per se, it was just that sometimes, he wouldn't think things through before agreeing to a challenge.

So when the boys raised the idea of participating in No Nut November, there was no doubt that the eldest Holland would take it on headstrong without initially considering what else was in store for the month.

And then they started teasing Tom about how he could never control his constant horniness whenever he was around you, and it only fuelled his need to prove them oh so wrong.

"Tom wouldn't last a day," Tuwaine said. "Not when Y/N lives with us."

"Fuck off. I have great self-control, thank you very much," Tom scoffed, putting the last remaining red cups in the trash bag, ones that were used in the Halloween party they threw last night.

Harry rolled his eyes, obviously not believing his brother's statement. "Mate, she does absolutely nothing and you're jumping her bones in seconds!"

"Well, maybe if you've got a smoking hot—no, even just a girlfriend then you'll understand," Tom countered, smirk in full play.

"Fuck you." Harry glared at him, throwing a plastic skull in his direction to which Tom dodged with a laugh.

"They're worse than rabbits I tell you," Tuwaine grumbled, reaching up to remove the pumpkin lanterns that were hung on the wall behind the couch.

"We're not!" Tom protested.

"Nah, Tom's the only one who's always horny between the two of them," Harrison laughed as he emerged in the living room with the vacuum in hand. The blond lad's face fell into a grimace as he added, "He's always whining every night like some dog wanting to mate. I'm really regretting choosing the room next to yours."

"Oh fuck off, as if you're any better when Grace stays over," Tom retorted, Harrison's face instantly turning a deep shade of red. Tom grinned as he mimicked, "I'm really regretting choosing the room next to yours."

"Shut up, you div."

Tom laughed at that, tying up the trash bag before standing up confidently, hands on his hips as he looked over at his companions. "But no matter what you say, there's no doubt I'd cruise through November with the nut staying in the shells."

"The nut staying in the shells," Tuwaine repeated, rolling his eyes. "Why'd you have to say it like that, man?"

"Wanna bet then?" Harry challenged, an all-too-knowing smirk gracing his lips as soon as the words left it.

"Sure," Tom said calmly with a shrug, not thinking much about the mischief in Harry's eyes like the younger lad knew something, especially when he and Tuwaine shared a look.

"Go on, play your cards," Harrison chuckled. "And don't be so fucking lame and just bet fifty quid."

"Yeah, we do things differently in this house," Tuwaine agreed.

"Go big or go home," Harry said with a smirk.

"Alright, fine." Tom crossed his arms over his chest as he pursed his lips, eyes staring at the ceiling as he tried to come up with a high stake bet that would keep everyone motivated to actually pull through with this. Catching the sight of the beach painting on the wall, he smiled as it came to him.

"Whoever lasts the whole of November will win a week's holiday in Mykonos. All expenses will be paid by the others who lost," Tom offered, all the boys nodding in agreement, eyes now glossed with excitement. "If two of us win, the other two will pay. If only one person will win, the other three will pay and you get to bring a plus one," he continued.

"I have a feeling I'm going to get Gracie and me a free couple's holiday," Harrison said, clasping his hands together, beaming.

"What if we all win and you're the only one who'll lose?" Harry asked.

"Then you three will have a week-long holiday in Mykonos with all expenses paid by me." Tom shrugged nonchalantly, opening his arms to showcase himself with a calm smile. He truly did believe he wouldn't be touching his pocket anytime soon. He was confident enough in his ability to win the bet which was why he wasn't afraid to raise the stake.

"Oh, now we're talking!" Tuwaine cheered, patting Harry on the back excitedly.

"You seem so confident in this," Harrison chuckled.

"Because I know I'm not losing. I can easily go through November without a single bust," Tom stated. "So, deal?"

"Deal," the three boys chorused, proceeding to shake hands among themselves with grins on their faces, ready to take on the challenge.

"Deal on what?"

All four heads turned to look at you as you entered the living room.

A bright smile immediately erupted on Tom's face then, heart melting at the way you gently rubbed the sleep off your eyes with your knuckles, your figure clad in some sleep shorts and his purple sweatshirt.

"No Nut November. Whoever wins will go to an all-expense paid by the losers, to be extra clear, a week holiday in Mykonos," Harry explained amusedly, smirk widening when you nodded slowly.

"So..." you trailed off, turning to look at Tom with a pout as you said,

"No birthday sex for me then?"

Tom's smile got slapped off his face as his eyes widened, horror and realisation quickly dawning on his features before he dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sharp curse,

"Fuck."

All the boys burst out in rambunctious laughs, Harry and Tuwaine high-fiving which proved that they already knew about your birthday and how it could be the one thing that would secure their win on this.

"You dickheads set me up!" Tom exclaimed, shooting each lad a glare, throwing another one at Harry for good measure since he was the one who planted the idea of a bet in the first place.

"Nobody set you up," the younger Holland laughed. "You just didn't think things through, as per usual."

Tom looked at you with an apologetic pout. You flashed him a smile in return, giggling softly as you shrugged. He sighed before turning back to the boys. "Come on, surely her birthday is an exception?"

"Nope, a deal is a deal," Tuwaine laughed.

"You nut, you lose," Harry added.

Tom turned to Harrison for help. The blonde lad merely shook his head with a smirk. "You dug yourself into this hole, mate. The deal has been made," he chuckled. "Or you can just accept defeat and pay for our holiday."

"No way in hell I'm losing to you lot," Tom said through gritted teeth, too much pride and ego to easily surrender when the game barely even started yet.

"Right then." Harry clasped his hands together. "Who wants to join me on shopping?" he said, shit-eating grin never wavering as he added salt to the wound. "I feel like I need new swimming trunks and a whole lot of sunscreen for our week holiday, paid by Tom, in Mykonos."

"Oh, hell yeah!" Tuwaine grinned.

Harrison laughed, "Count me in!"

All three boys exited the room after that with as much giddiness in their step as possible, leaving you with a rather defeated Tom. You walked over to him with a tender smile, your hands smoothing over his shoulders as his fingers automatically curled around your waist once you were close enough.

"Did you forget?" you asked teasingly, brushing away the curl that fell on his forehead.

This was going to be the third birthday that you were going to be celebrating with him. The past two, nobody in the group really thought much about No Nut November, given that they were all busy career wise on top of being in different places due to conflicting schedules.

Only now did they get the chance to actually spend some much needed time together, all free for the whole month as their breaks finally coincided. And, by the looks of it, the lads seemed to have grown bored out of their minds that the idea of participating suddenly came around.

"No, of course I didn't. I would never forget about your birthday," Tom said, wrapping his arms fully around you to pull you even closer, brushing the tip of his nose against yours softly. "I just didn't make the correlation until you pointed it out."

"The bet does sound too good to pass," you hummed, amused. "I mean, free holiday? Who wouldn't want that?"

Tom pouted. "I'm so sorry, my love—"

"Hey no, it's okay, It's not a big deal," you said reassuringly, with no hint of anger or disappointment in your voice whatsoever. "You'll just have to make it up to me in December." You flashed him a lovely smile, one that was quick to turn into a smirk, though. "I also want to see how long you'll last."

"I feel like you don't have faith in me," he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at you.

"I'm your girlfriend," you giggled. "I think out of all people, I'm the most aware of how horny you get and how quickly it happens."

"Well, can't argue with that," Tom chuckled. Yet despite how true your words were, his confidence and pride still boiled in him strongly as he said, "I still believe that this is going to be easy breezy for me."

But was No Nut November really going to be easy breezy for Tom? Absolutely—

Not.

Even more so when you weren't doing anything in making it as such.

The first time Tom felt his self-control waver was when you walked out of the closet in a matching sports bra and leggings, and some white tennis shoes on to complete the look.

It was a plain, grey set, but the fabric was clinging onto your figure that Tom couldn't stop himself from gawking. It left so little to the imagination that's for sure. The lump was quick to form in his throat, lips parted as he froze, hands hovering over his last untied shoelace while his eyes raked from the top of your head, down, and then back up again.

He shook his head and blinked, clearing out his throat and standing up from his place on the bed after he tied the knot securely. He narrowed his eyes as he walked over to you, hands resting on your waist once he was close.

Tom instantly regretted the action.

Your skin was bare underneath his palms, and it was warm to the touch, soft, and oh did his hands desperately want to go further up and to the front, or down and behind.

"What're you up to?" he asked, voice dropping an octave as he hooked his thumbs on the elastic of your leggings.

You furrowed your brows, small smile on your lips as you stared at him quizzically. "I'm coming with you to the gym starting today, remember?"

No, he did not remember.

Tom stared at you suspiciously at first, trying to gauge if there was some sort of hidden plan you were cooking. But you merely raised a brow as you tilted your head, smile widening with amusement.

Then it hit him.

"For fuck's sake."

You had set a goal for yourself that you were going to start exercising as much and as often as you could. And being the ever supportive boyfriend that he is, Tom, of course, offered to help out by saying you could come to the gym with him.

You'd set up a friendly competition between the two of you—well, it was mostly a pack you made for yourself that the number of days you'd gone to the gym should be equal if not more than Tom's. You said it was to help keep you motivated to not miss a session, especially when you were going against him who works out religiously.

It wasn't to change your appearance in any sort of way. Tom even sat you down to talk, just to make sure you weren't doing it for the wrong reasons, that you were doing it because you wanted to, not because you were pressured to. And most importantly, that you were doing this for yourself, not to impress anyone else, including him.

But you'd reassured him it was simply to be more active, build a bit of strength and improve your cardiovascular endurance where you wouldn't be out of breath after doing some simple task.

Tom was all up for it, always willing to give his full support when it came to your wonderful, productive, goal driven and other times, spontaneous ventures. As long as it wasn't illegal, of course—well, even that's debatable.

It just so happens that you both agreed, merely a couple of days ago, that November was the most reasonable time for you to start.

Why oh why did it seem like all the odds were somewhat against him this month? Or did he simply not think things through before agreeing to this bet?

Tom's pride picked the former.

"Hmm, I didn't know that not busting a nut makes you forgetful," you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.

"Shut up. I've been distracted," he grumbled defensively, nudging the tip of his nose with yours with a pout.

"Obviously," you laughed. "I mean, you have been thinking with the wrong head lately."

Tom nodded slowly, running his tongue over his teeth with a dark chuckle, "You and your quick wit." With an eyebrow raised in warning, he squeezed your waist. "It's gonna get you in trouble."

"Oh, you like it," you murmured, smirking as you tilted your head up, brushing your lips over his but never closing the distance, just like the little tease that you are.

"Not in the bedroom I don't," Tom warned, voice dropping an octave.

His fingers dug into your hips, head pulling back when you tried to go in for a kiss. He knew what you were trying to do, and he wasn't going to let you get the upper hand.

But then you whined.

And how was he meant to resist that?

Though the second he let lips touch yours, it set him on fire.

Tom's self control cracked as he pulled you flushed against his chest. Tilting his head, he groaned when you teased your tongue against his lip, him obliging your request not even a split second later.

Big mistake.

The kiss immediately grew heavy and hot, his hands wandering, squeezing, gripping, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging gently as you let a moan slip out.

Tom quickly pulled away, lips detaching from yours with a soft pop.

"Fuck," he gasped, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tried his best to settle down his raging bo—heart. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

"Oh it's definitely harder."

Tom pulled away, shooting you a glare. "Ha, ha, you're so funny."

"I know, the one thing I didn't learn from you," you quipped with a smirk.

"Ouch." Tom pouted at you. "Wait, I am funny."

"Debatable."

"I mean my dad's a comedian."

"Well, even more debatable."

Tom gaped at you. "Harsh."

"The fact that I'm still with you even after your bad jokes—" You shook your head, cupping his cheek tenderly as you sighed, "True love does exist."

"You're wounding me, darling," Tom said, turning his head to kiss your palm before he looked back at you with a pout. You giggled, leaning closer to kiss it away. Successfully so as he was unable to stop himself from breaking out into a grin.

"Love you," you hummed against his lips.

"Love you most," he sighed, squeezing you one more time before pulling away.

"Now, let's get to the gym shall we?" you said.

Tom nodded, moving over to his bedside table to get his wallet, phone and keys.

"I'm staying as far away from you the whole time, by the way," he said, pointing an accusing finger at you, glaring playfully as he followed you out the bedroom and down the hall.

You laughed, "As if that'll help."

And oh you were so right. It did not fucking help, at all.

It was torture watching you go from stretching to then running on the treadmill where your lovely thighs and ass were just there for him to watch as they jiggled with your movements. And then you went from curl-ups, to push-ups, planks and then squats. The fucking squats was when he started to feel really, really hot. His suffering didn't even end there. You working out in itself was already a lot. But then all of it just seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Everything you were doing was happening in slow motion as if you were in some TV commercial, and Tom was simply there to watch on the screen, unable to do anything about it—well, unless he wanted to lose the bet.

No matter how many times Tom tried to convince himself that it was simply his mind playing tricks on him, it didn't make a fucking difference.

He couldn't even look at you when you drank from your water bottle—head thrown back with your neck stretched out—it was just too much for him to handle.

Tom was drenched in sweat by the time you both were done for the day, and he knew it wasn't only from his workout. The tent on his basketball shorts proved that. Hell, he didn't even get to fully complete his sets given that you were being a huge distraction—a very attractive, gorgeously sexy and hot distraction.

And you weren't even doing it on purpose!

You merely laughed at his demise when you both got in the car, Tom keeping both hands on the steering wheel which he didn't normally do when it's you in the passenger's seat. Your laugh only grew louder when you saw how tight his grip was, simply to keep them there in fear that the second he'd even just feel the warmth of your thigh, he'd absolutely lose it.

"Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"Why won't you look at me?"

There was no doubt you knew exactly why he couldn't sneak a glance, you simply wanted to poke him about it. He could do it in the gym because there was distance, admire you from afar as you could say. But now? He didn't trust himself. Not with you being so close where he'd probably be able to notice the sweat that littered your warm skin, trailing down the valley of your—that thought itself just about tempt him to pull over once he finds an empty parking space.

"'Cause I'm driving," he lied through gritted teeth.

That made you laugh even more.

He couldn't be mad at you, though. Because one, he absolutely loves your laugh, it's the most beautiful sound in the world. And two, well, it genuinely was quite laughable, how it's only been day one and he was already grasping at straws.

It wasn't because he was always that horny around you exactly, it was because he couldn't do anything about it which was frustrating. And the more frustrated he got, the tougher it was to put himself in check. Basically, he got even hornier, and it just went round and round and kept building and building.

It's definitely going to be a white Christmas once he explodes.

Hell, white Christmas might even come early if Tom did so, too.

He didn't even care how bad those jokes were.

But what Tom dreaded the most was that he knew it'd only get har—more difficult to control himself from here on out.

And as the days dragged on—and oh how much longer did it fucking drag where it seemed that a minute was over an hour—Tom found himself taking cold showers frequently. He did it much more often in a way that it for sure helped with lessening the bills in this house. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he took a proper hot shower. But there was nothing else he could think of that would help calm down his...needs.

Said needs that only grew stronger whenever you were in the vicinity.

It was amusing borderline ridiculous how hyperaware he'd gotten about your presence. Tom's not a scientist so he had no idea how to explain the hows, all he knew was that everything about you suddenly became more.

Scent sweeter, more intoxicating, touch warmer, more electrifying, skin softer, more tempting.

And when pre-No-Nut-November him already felt so strongly for you, how his emotions were always at a high level when it comes to you, imagine how much more intense everything got? It was like going from dialling it to eleven to suddenly making it a hundred.

If Tom had to guess what having spider-senses actually felt like, this was definitely it.

What made him realise that he was absolutely done for was the fact that even the faint smell of your shampoo was starting to get him worked up.

Better yet, that the sight of you in his hoodie was already giving him a semi.

"God-fucking-dammit," Tom grumbled, rubbing his face with his palm frustratedly as he tore his gaze away from you, shifting in his seat as he placed a pillow on his lap.

All three lads looked at him, comedically in sync as they looked at you in the kitchen, and then back at Tom.

"Fucking hell, she's just cooking!" Harry laughed.

"Yeah, in my clothes," Tom reasoned.

"I feel like this is actually a life lesson for you," Tuwaine chuckled. "You're actually just a walking horn dog."

"I see his point, though. When you see your girlfriend in your clothes, it's just different," Harrison said. "Brings back some memories too as to why she ended up wearing your clothes in the first place, if you get what I mean."

"Thank you!" Tom exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air before he gestured towards Tuwaine and Harry with a glare. "The difference between who's single and who's not."

"You mean the difference between the winners and losers?" Harry grinned.

"As if I didn't see you skip a kissing scene—not even a sex scene—so fucking quick in that movie you and Harrison watched last night. The one with Channing Tatum," Tom countered.

Harry turned bright red as he threw a pillow at his brother, "Fuck off. Rachel McAdams is my weakness."

"Or Channing Tatum," Tuwaine interjected, the boys nodding in agreement.

"He actually didn't watch the movie, he was just drooling the whole time," Harrison snitched, earning a smack from Harry.

"That's poor from you, Baz," Tuwaine snorted.

"At least I'm not having a fucking boner just seeing my girlfriend cooking in my hoodie," Harry argued, immediately receiving back the pillow he threw at Tom earlier.

"Domesticity is sexy, fuck you." Tom flipped the boys off as he got up from the couch and made his way over to you in the kitchen.

He'd already established that staying away from you didn't make that much of a difference. It was either suffer while being far away from you, or suffer while getting to hold you close.

Tom will always pick the latter.

"Hi, my love," he hummed, arms wrapping around you from behind as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

"Hey, handsome," you giggled, squeezing his forearm before continuing to chop up the broccoli. "I can change if you want."

Tom scrunched up his face. "You heard?"

"You guys aren't exactly the quietest bunch."

"We could say the exact same to the both of you!"

"Touché!" you called out with a laugh. "Although, we have been pretty quiet lately."

"Oh it's so peaceful," Harry let out a fake sob. "I'm going to miss the peace and quiet once November is over."

"Well, quiet for you lot downstairs," Harrison complained. "I hear Tom cry every night because his dick is too hard and he can't do anything about it."

"Stop fucking lying, Harrison!"

"Is he though?" you asked, nose scrunching.

Tom rolled his eyes as he grumbled, "I don't cry, I complain."

"Right, because there's a difference."

Tom shook his head, but didn't bother arguing as he nuzzled his face into your neck, fingers playing with the hem of the hoodie. "You know, it should be a crime how you always look so good in my clothes. Like, fuck me, please."

"Shut up," you laughed.

"But no, there's no need to change," he hummed, planting a few kisses on your warm skin and then your cheek. "It's my job to get my mind out of the gutter, my job to control the urges, my job not to give into the temptation. Never yours."

"Preach it, Pastor Tom."

The way his whole body immediately ran cold at that, it was award-winning. It was quick, how turned off he immediately got.

"Please," Tom started with a sharp intake of breath. "Do not call me that, ever again, I am begging you."

"What? With how you're acting lately," you trailed off, grin turning wider. "You need Jesus!"

"Darling!" Tom groaned.

You laughed, "Did it work?"

"Yup," he sighed, eyes dropping to his crotch. "It's fully deflated now. I think it even shrunk in."

You laughed at that, patting him right on top of the head. "You last another day, Holland."

"Thank you, baby," he cooed sarcastically.

"Oh no, don't thank me," you hummed, pointing at the ceiling, eyes following suit. "Thank the Lord."

"I hate you so much," he grumbled, pulling away completely and making his way out the kitchen.

"What? You'd prefer me to douse you in holy water instead?" you called out, your laugh still bouncing off the walls.

"The number you have dialled has already disconnected!"

"But Tom, I wanted a kiss!"

That stopped him in his tracks, a smile tugging at his lips which he quickly wiped off as he turned and walked back to you.

"Not until you promise me no more Jesus jokes," he said, pointing an accusing finger.

"Amen," you said, trying your hardest to keep a straight face but laughing only a second later when he grabbed a chopped carrot and threw it at you. "Wasting food is a sin, Tom!"

He grabbed the ladle from the pot, aiming a full scoop of mashed potatoes right at you. "I swear if you don't cut that out—"

"Okay! Okay," you snorted, hands up as you slowly walked towards him, putting the ladle back before wrapping your arms around his neck. "No more, I promise."

With a sigh, Tom circled his arms around you and gave you the kiss you asked for.

"You are so lucky I love you."

"Hmm, I love you, too."

•••

Tom's heart stopped, beating again but at twice its normal pace. But all it did was pump the blood straight down as he walked into your shared bedroom.

At first glance, the sight was innocent, you laying on your stomach, feet in the air as you flicked through the pages of your book.

But not only were you wearing his hoodie again, it was hiked up just enough for Tom to get a clear view of your red, lacy underwear.

"Darling, I don't normally ask you this," he started, voice low and rough as he stayed frozen on his spot by the door. "But I really need you to put some pants on."

"Oh, sorry," you said, not sounding apologetic at all as you scrambled off the bed. With your back turned to him, your book suddenly 'fell' off your hands. "Oops," you gasped, making a show of bending over to pick it up.

One glance was all it took.

Tom was behind you in seconds, abruptly pulling you upright. He turned you around to face him, his grip tightening on your waist as he pressed you against the nearest wall.

And if the devilish smile you wore was anything to go by, you knew exactly what you were doing.

"Who's putting you up to this?" he grumbled, trying his best to keep his hands still and not let them wander, especially under the hoodie you were wearing. He'd be gone if he did as much as feel a sliver of your skin.

"No one," you hummed, a grin appearing on your lips as you shrugged. "Well, me."

His brow quirked up. "Why?"

"Because I'm really, really horny," you admitted unashamedly. "But I guess I'll have to take care of that myself, alone, in the shower."

Tom let out a harsh breath through his nose as he screwed his eyes shut. "You're having your fun with this, too, huh?"

"I am," you giggled, fingers taking home in the mesh of his curls. "Mainly because I love seeing you all riled up. I mean, you're so hot when you're angry. But then angry you leads to sex that is just whew."

His glare was sharp with warning as he met your eyes again. "Sweetheart—"

"Don't lose, though," you hummed, nails lightly scratching at his scalp, making a shiver run down his whole body. "I mean imagine the fun we'll have if you get to win this. Just the two of us in Mykonos, me in your favourite bikinis, salt water on my skin, under the sun, rubbing sunscreen—"

"You are not helping," he groaned, head dropping to place a kiss on the juncture where your neck and jaw meet. "But thanks for the motivation, love."

"Anytime, pretty boy."

You escaped his hold before he could even say a word, a skip in your step as you made your way to the en suite bathroom.

"Fucking hell," he grumbled, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face with a deep sigh, "Might as well start praying to contain myself."

You laughed heartily at that, shooting him a wink over your shoulder, a blow of a kiss before you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

Absolute fucking tease.

Tom knew he needed to get out before he could even hear you start to get...busy.

So he grabbed a spare towel in the closet and made his way downstairs, thankful that there was more than one bathroom in this place. He really needed a cold shower to calm himself down a bit.

But when he got there, Harrison was waiting by the door, the water already running inside.

"Harry in there?" Tom asked the blonde lad, turning back to the white-painted wood when he got the confirmation. "Mate, what are you doing?"

"I'm showering, piss off!"

Tom grinned. "Are you sure you're not losing?"

"I swear on my dick I'm not! I'll cut it off myself if I'm lying!"

"Damn," Tom blew out his cheeks, eyes wide with amusement before he turned to the blonde lad. "What happened?"

"The Notebook," Harrison said, chuckling.

"Ah." Tom nodded, remembering certain scenes that the movie had. "So it's a cold shower then."

Harrison laughed, nodding. It was only then did Tom notice he had a towel in hand, face unusually flushed.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

"She posted a picture, pool party with some friends," Harrison grumbled, as if it pained him to say it out loud.

Tom rolled his eyes. "You guys have it so fucking easy yet here you are."

"It's my favourite bikini on her, leave me alone," he argued, before his eyes narrowed. "Wait, don't you have your own shower?"

Tom shrugged. "She's busy."

"Oh," Harrison said, a few seconds passing before his eyes widened as he looked at Tom. "Oh."

"Yup," he sighed, doing his best not to close his eyes to the picture of you in the shower doing things he should be doing to you. He wouldn't dare bless his imagination. Not unless he wanted to get pushed past his sanity.

"You're right, we do have it easy," Harrison chuckled, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

"You guys are such horny losers," Tuwaine's laugh boomed across the hall as he walked by them.

He was about to retort when he suddenly heard your voice.

"Tom? Your turn," you said as you appeared down the stairs, wearing the same hoodie but sporting some sweatpants this time. Smirking, you added, "I put it on extra cold."

"How considerate. Even if you caused the problem in the first place." he scoffed, rolling his eyes, planting a soft kiss on your lips before he made his way back to your shared bedroom.

•••

Tom should've known.

Especially when he knew just how much of an absolute devil you got once you start your little game. You never shied away from pushing him to the brink when you so obviously wanted something specific from him.

He should've seen it coming from miles away.

The deep hiss he let out echoed in the bathroom when he stepped under the cold water, yet the relief he felt only lasted for a second.

Because when he looked up, he was eye to eye with your stark red bra and matching lace underwear, hanging prettily on the showerhead.

The cold water didn't work so well anymore.

"Y/N!"

"What?" You appeared in the bathroom a few moments later, smiling innocently.

Tom glared, lifting his fingers to show you the lingerie you not-so-accidentally hung just above his head. It was as close as dangling warm, red meat in front of a starving beast.

"You little minx."

"Oh hello, haven't seen him in a while," you giggled as you so blatantly stared between his legs, licking your lips slowly as your eyes trailed over the rest of his naked body.

"You're fucking me with your eyes," Tom stated, yet by no means did anything to cover up. It's not like you haven't seen it countless times before. Besides, he loved the attention, he always did when it came to you. Whether he'd admit that now, though, was the question.

"Oh you bet I am. I mean, can you blame me?" you admitted unashamedly, sauntering over to him. He sucked in a sharp breath when your hands landed on his biceps, squeezing and then moving up his shoulder. He held it in, his lungs be damned as your fingers started to trail down his abs. "I've got such a gorgeous boyfriend."

Before you could move past below his V-line, Tom immediately caught your wrist, grip firm as a warning, but not enough for it to hurt. His free hand came up, pinching your chin between his fingers as held you in place. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, stance commanding, dominating, as he spoke in a tone that he only ever used whenever you were being a brat.

"Out, sweetheart."

You grinned that devilish smile of yours, kissed his thumb, and purred,

"Yes, sir."

You were out of the bathroom before Tom could even do as much as take a breath.

He looked up at the ceiling, a sound mixed between a sob and a laugh escaping him as he said,

"Lord Jesus Christ, help me."

•••

You stirred awake at the faint sound of an alarm going off.

It was quickly stopped, though, silence ringing in the air but for only a moment before the soft rustling of the sheets bounced off the bedroom walls.

Yet what made your eyes flutter open was the feeling of that familiar mess of curls tickling the flesh on your inner thighs, followed by those warm lips you adore brushing against your skin, leaving soft yet praising kisses on its wake.

You giggled, blinking away the remnants of sleep before your gaze settled on the man below you. His handsome face sported that charming smile, illuminated by a soft orange glow coming from his bedside lamp.

It was like clockwork, Tom waking you up at midnight during your birthday to give you your first gift in a form of praise, love and affection, giving and showing them to you in more ways than not.

"There's the birthday girl," he hummed lowly, hands running along your thighs, his lips following its path.

"Come here," you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair lovingly.

Tom smiled, slowly kissing up your leg, placing one on your hip before moving towards your clothed stomach, blowing a raspberry to earn a laugh. He continued his way up to the valley between your breast, up and up, until he gently nipped at your collarbone, humming to himself once he reached the warmth of your neck.

He stayed there for a moment, your head tilting instinctively so he could litter your skin with open mouth kisses with ease.

Once Tom was satisfied, his lips found your jaw then, kisses given to your left cheek, moving across your face to stop at the tip of your nose, kissing it twice before he trailed over to the other cheek. Heaps of giggles rumbled out of you as he kissed your eyelids, then your forehead before moving across your crown.

Your gazes locked once he pulled away slightly, forearms resting on either side of your head, his smile brighter than the moonlight that seeped through the bedroom window.

"Happy Birthday, my darling love," he whispered.

"Thank you," you hummed, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

It escalated quicker than you'd anticipated it to.

Then again, it's been a common thing to happen nowadays.

Next thing you knew, Tom was groaning against you, tongue prying your lips open before licking into your mouth as his body nudged your legs apart, settling in between them. His hands were deliberate yet loving as they grabbed at every part of you—hips, thighs, waist, chest, earning whispered moans with each tender squeeze.

Then, his hips moved on their own accord, a deep growl pulling him off your lips. He nuzzled his face into your neck, kissing fervently before slowly starting to nip at the skin.

"Tom, wait," you gasped, cupping his face and gently prying him off of you. Both chests heaving, you looked into his darkened eyes, smiling at him sympathetically. "We can't remember?"

"Fuck," he groaned, reluctantly pulling away and plopping back on his side of the bed, forearm draped over his eyes. With a pout, he turned to you. "You're not part of it though so you can still get off."

"I wouldn't want you to do that," you said in pure honesty. It just seemed far too mean to be taking the pleasure he'd give you when he'd be suffering while doing so. You shifted in bed, kissing his bare shoulder before you rested your head on his chest. "Wouldn't want to torture you on my birthday."

"You let me have the best birthday sex ever this year and I can't even return the favour," he sighed, the frustration and disappointment prominent in his voice.

You had surprised him with a new pair of much more risqué lingerie and a little private show. It was safe to say it was one of the best nights of his life, because it sure was one of the best sex you'd ever had. You absolutely had no clue how you'd be able to top it next year.

"It's okay," you hummed sincerely, kissing up his jaw before meeting his gaze. "December has plenty of free days."

Tom looked at you for a moment, and you could practically see it in his eyes, the way the gears in his head were turning. It was almost as if he was weighing all the pros and cons of his upcoming decision, whatever that may be.

You weren't given a chance to ask about it when he spoke.

"You know what, fuck it," he scoffed, lips finding yours again with a soft groan, pushing you back into the mattress as he returned to settling between your legs. Trailing down your jaw then to your neck, he murmured, "You and your pleasure are far more important to me than some stupid bet."

"But I really would love to go to Mykonos," you teased with a giggle, a sound replaced by a whimper when Tom started sucking on your sweet spots, surely leaving a mark.

"Then I'll easily take you there on my own, sweetheart," he cockily said, sitting back on his knees. "Part two of your gift. But for now..." he trailed off, smirking, hands finding their way under your shirt, fingers hooking on your underwear.

"My girl deserves to get dicked down on her birthday."

"Tom!" you laughed.

You both jumped at the sudden ruckus outside your door.

"Woohoo!" Tuwaine hollered.

"Mykonos, here we come!" Harry cheered, followed by Harrison's boisterous laugh.

Tom's whole body slumped right on top of you with an annoyed groan.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" all of them chorused.

You laughed, "Thank you!"

"Nah," Tuwaine chuckled. "Thank you for the free holiday!"

"You're welcome?" you snorted, shaking your head. "I guess?"

Lifting his head up, Tom shouted back, "I suggest you three leave the house while we haven't started yet!"

"It's fucking midnight!"

"Deez nuts busting, they're not caring!"

A chorus of groans echoed behind the door, followed by an onset of boos that had you plopping back in bed with a hearty laugh.

"That alone is enough to make me leave," Tuwaine grumbled.

"Come on, T, let's crash at mum and dad's," Harry said, words quickly followed by their footsteps growing further.

"Right," Harrison sighed, and you could almost see his grimace through the door at the realisation that his room was right next to yours. "Definitely staying with Grace tonight."

Tom chuckled, "You'll be the next to lose then Harrison!"

He didn't get a response, only an echo of silence as the boys went to wherever it was they planned to escape for the night to avoid trauma.

"That was so bad," you snorted. "See what I mean about true love?"

"Sorry, sorry," he hummed, warm hands kneading your bare thighs as he pecked your lips, eyes meeting yours, he wiggled his brows. "Now, where were we?"

You tilted your head at him innocently. "Me getting dicked down?"

"You better be ready," Tom chuckled darkly, smirk widening as he gently pushed your legs apart a little wider.

You bit your lip. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm, because for the whole day, a 24-hour time limit?" Tom licked his lips as he eyes trailed hungrily over you, the heat in your belly bursting into a flame as he said, "Let's try and see if you can come as many times as the years you've been on this earth."

Oh you were in for a long birthday ahead.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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