#ive never even seen gossip girl

[copsecore]

Just a little something for all those who have been patiently awaiting my return.

Tell Jesus,,,,that the bitch is back.

[whats-ur-credit-card-number]

Go piss girl? More like Go ssip Girl! #hydration

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part IV)

Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 11.5 K

Warnings: Angst begins, still lots of fluff, smut (of course), Aegon still being an ass

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

~~

The court was in a frenzy.

The news of their betrothal spread through King’s Landing like wildfire. It was all anyone could talk about for days on end. Some felt vindicated, that the rumors they had been spreading for months had finally come to fruition, while others were skeptical, unsure of what such a sweet young girl saw in the surly one-eyed Prince. 

The gossip was never ending, with many speculating the couple had been consorting inappropriately in private. While many knew of Ixtal’s customs, that they weren’t as strict about their Ladies maidenhood as they were in the rest of Westeros, it didn’t stop the looks of indignation she received from certain members of the court who turned their noses up at the mere possibility she had sullied herself before her marriage.

While Aemond hated the speculation and had to be held back more than once from storming over to a group of tittering Ladies and threatening to take their tongues for daring to speak ill of his betrothed, she found it laughable. She had to remind her betrothed they weren’t exactly wrong. 

Their nights of pleasure together were only all the more exciting and mind blowing knowing they would have each other forever, that they no longer needed to fear what the future held. 

They could finally relax, they would soon be each other’s in the eyes of the Gods and no one could take that away from them. 

Their wedding was spared no expense. Lords and Ladies of great houses from across the realm traveled to the Capitol to witness the union of a Targaryen Prince and the daughter of the most prosperous house in the realm. 

Aemond paid no mind to the fanfare. All he cared about was her. 

He barely got to see her in the weeks leading up to their wedding, with her swept up with the Ladies of the court in dress fittings and as her family arrived at King’s Landing, she was rarely seen without her dear younger sister or mother at her side. 

The King demanded a three day tourney be held to celebrate, with lavish hunts and feasts raving practically each night. Aemond had never seen his father so excited and he knew it had little to do with him and all to do with his dear friend, the Lord of Ixtal, that their families would officially be uniting. 

He rolled his eyes at the whole affair. He just wanted to marry his love. He didn’t want all this attention and unnecessary flourish. 

She would laugh softly everytime he slunk into her chambers at night, her bright eyes alight with mischief, a delighted smile on her face at the annoyance on his.

“Couldn’t stay away?”

“You know I couldn’t.” He crooned, inhaling her scent as he hugged her tightly from behind. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“I am.” She answered with a blissful smile. “Are you?”

“I was ready to marry you years ago.” 

She practically swooned, leaning her head back onto his shoulder, her gaze filled with nothing but devotion. She never would have pictured this for herself. She never could have imagined she would be able to marry her best friend, that she would find a love so pure and so beautiful for herself. She didn’t think that kind of love even existed. 

“Everything seems so perfect.” She spoke softly, reveling in his embrace. 

He hummed in agreement, wishing they could go find a Maester now to perform a ceremony and bind themselves together. He didn’t want to wait another minute. He just wanted to be her husband. 

The next morning, the entire Keep was a flurry of activity. Maids scurried in and out of her chambers to prepare her, most desperate to catch a glimpse of the Island girl that would soon become a Targaryen princess. 

She sat nervously at her vanity, her hands fidgeting in her lap. 

Today was the day she would finally marry her best friend. It all seemed too good to be true, as though they had gotten away with some elaborate plan. 

“You look beautiful, my love.” Her mother spoke, her eyes already brimming my tears.

“I’m not even in my dress yet.” She laughed as her mother waved her off, wiping under her eyes as she had been doing all morning. 

To her left, Alicent stood, her demeanor much more reserved than that of her own mother and sister, who could barely contain their excitement. The Queen had yet to crack a smile since she had entered her chambers and had been silently picking out jewelry for her to wear, barely sparing a glance to her soon to be good daughter. 

A nervous lump grew in her throat. She didn’t have the best relationship with Aemond’s mother, even as children, the woman seemed disinterested in speaking more than a few words to her. She at least thought the day she wedded her son she’d try to bridge the gap between them, but it seemed she still had little interest. 

She didn’t seem all that thrilled her son was even getting married. 

The maids around her all gestured for her to stand and move towards the floor length mirror, their excited giggles growing in volume as her dress was brought forward. 

Her breath hitched. It was real. This was happening. 

Her heart was racing as the maids helped her dress, her eyes beginning to sting with the pressure to cry the happiest of tears. 

“I assume you know what is expected of you tonight.” Alicent’s voice broke through the throng of excited chattering, abruptly shattering the positive energy in the room. 

The way Alicent looked at her, so intently, almost judgmentally, made her want to shrink. She swallowed and nodded. 

She felt a hand at her shoulder, her mother’s presence steadily at her side.

“We have already discussed what her duty is tonight.” Her mother answered for her, her voice sounder stiffer than before. 

Her mother had been in King’s Landing barely a day before she figured out what her daughter and her betrothed had been up to for months. Aemond had been horrified when his future good mother blurted out their long held secret. 

She was sure he would be blushing for the rest of his life. Even after her mother laughed heartily and assured them she would never tell a soul, that she held no judgment for them, he still had trouble meeting her eye out of sheer embarrassment. 

With one look at Alicent, the Lady of Ixtal knew she would do whatever she needed to do, say whatever she needed to say, to not let the frigid woman before her try to sink her claws into her daughter. 

She would not ruin her daughter’s big day. 

 Alicent hummed, the sound neither that of satisfaction or disdain, and she remained quiet, though her critical eye never lessened. She had no compliments for the young girl who donned her beautiful, extravagant dress, she had no well wishes for the girl as her eyes brimmed with happy tears.

All Alicent could fixate on was how angry her father was at the turn of events. They had lost a monumental opportunity to gain allies due to the girl in front of her. She had bewitched her son, her uncivilized ways weakening Aemond’s sense of duty and proprietary. She never forgot how her son had stormed into her room, practically demanding a betrothal. It was so unlike him, not at all how he had been raised to act and she knew the Ixtal girl was to blame. 

All she could do was plaster on a fake smile and hope everything her father had worked on for years wasn’t all for naught. 

~~

She was a vision as she stepped out of the carriage, her pulse thrumming in her ears, her hands trembling in anticipation. 

In a matter of minutes, she was going to be married to the love of her life.

“Are you ready?” Her father asked, a soft smile on his face as he stared at his first daughter with barely contained emotion. She nodded eagerly, latching onto his arm, taking in a final deep breath before they stepped inside. 

The crowd of guests were in awe as she passed, though she could not spare a glance to any of the onlookers that seemed to swoon at the sight of her. Her gaze was locked onto the man at the front of the room, meeting his eye effortlessly.

Aemond had been watching the door and nothing else for the past few minutes, anxiously awaiting her arrival. The second she stepped inside, his breath had been stolen from him. 

He felt nervous flutters within him, as if he was once again that little boy who was in love with his best friend before he even knew what it meant to love someone. 

His vision blurred slightly as tears gathered in his eye at the sight of her, so beautiful, so perfect, his wife. 

They couldn’t take their eyes off each other as her father removed the cloak from her shoulders. Aemond felt his breath hitch at the sight of her in her dress, the shape of her body, the delicate silk outlining every curve he had spent many nights memorizing and worshiping. 

As he stood before her, placing the heavy Targaryen cloak over her shoulders, he breathed in her familiar scent, calming every one of his nerves. 

He took her hand, guiding her up the steps of the dais. No one said a word as he kept his hand in hers, the crowd was absolutely enraptured by the sight of them, the Ladies dramatically sharing looks of longing at the couple as neither one of them spared a glance to the Septon that began the service. 

They only had eyes for each other. 

No one could deny the love they shared. As they spoke the words that bound them together, their smiles dazzling, no one could deny this was a marriage of pure love. 

“I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

The words left him with ease. He used to dread this moment as a child, hating the idea of being bound to a woman he didn’t know and didn’t care for for the rest of his life, purely out of duty. 

Now, he couldn’t imagine saying the words to any other person but the woman in front of him. The thought of spending the rest of his days with her, his love, brought him nothing but relief and endless happiness, a feeling he never pictured for himself. 

Since he lost his eye, since a piece of him had literally been taken from him, he had always felt slighted, but now, as the Septon announced their union, as he kissed her for the first time as his wife, he felt whole again. 

He was no longer that overlooked second son, he was no longer that scarred and feared man who longed for revenge. 

He was a husband, he was her protector, her friend, her love. He felt he finally had a meaningful purpose, one that meant so much more than the duty his family expected from him. 

The crowd cheered voraciously. It wasn’t often they got to witness a union so blessed by affection. 

Aemond kept his awed gaze on her as they made their way down the aisle, his hand clasped tightly in hers, paying no mind to anyone else around him. 

They could scarcely keep their hands from each other. 

During the feast, Aemond kept his hand on her thigh, his touch thankfully hidden by the long train covering the table. As both of their fathers gave speeches, spouting lovely rhetorics of family and peace, he couldn’t bring himself to listen to a word of it. 

His attention was focused solely on the woman beside him. His wife. 

He felt himself smiling just at the thought of it, that he could finally say the word. 

When the music started and they made their way to the floor to share their first dance, a moment Aemond had been dreading for weeks, he found he couldn’t care less that everyone’s eyes were on him. 

He realized nothing else mattered. Everything he thought would make him feel insecure wasn’t even a thought in his mind. He held her closely, his heart racing as if they were dancing for the first time, as if he was touching her for the first time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.” She spoke with a laugh.

“I have a good reason to smile.” He responded with a smirk as he twirled her. 

The guests couldn’t take their eyes off the couple as they danced. Most felt they were intruding on an intimate moment with how intently they gazed at each other, their love radiating from each of them effortlessly. 

They noticed how the couple sparsely ceased their touch from each other. The Lords present couldn’t help but feel slighted there would be no bedding ceremony. They were sure it would be a spectacle with how the Prince eyed his new wife with a hunger most men couldn’t conceive for their own wives. 

Aemond’s pout as his new wife accepted Helaena’s offer to dance, leaving him to sit by himself, would be fodder for most of the gossip the next morning. 

He watched her with a small smile, looking more at ease than the court had ever seen him, content at the mere sight of her delight as she twirled around with Helaena, their shared laughter ringing out louder than the music playing. 

He took a small sip from his wine, content to not drink much more, knowing he’d rather have a clear head for what the rest of the night held. He would finally take her as his wife, he would lay with her, spill his seed inside her without consequence. 

After tonight, her stomach could swell with his child and no one could say a thing. 

The thought made him desperate to drag her to their new shared chambers. He would be eager to see the end of the feast and lay with her for the rest of the night, but with how happy she was, he wouldn’t do a thing to take her away from it. 

As she twirled with Helaena, her head back, eyes closed, a picture of pure happiness, she suddenly lost her footing. She stumbled slightly, her eyes widening, but sturdy hands on her waist stopped her from falling to the floor. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

She stiffened at the voice in her ear, turning to see Aegon’s smarmy smile. She wanted nothing more than to wrench his hands off her, but she couldn’t make a scene at her own wedding. If she displayed any ounce of discomfort by his hands, she was sure Aemond would forever be tainted as the man who killed his own brother on his wedding night.

“Aegon…” Helaena called out wearily, not wanting her dear friend to be subjected to her brother’s cruel games, though she didn’t have power in her own corner to derail him.

“It’s alright Helaena.” She assured her, giving her a weak smile to the Princess who eyed her worriedly for a moment before retreating back to the head table. 

She cleared her throat and stood stiffly, holding back a grimace as Aegon’s hand slipped around her waist, his other taking hers, his grip tight and domineering, as if he wanted to prove to her how much stronger he was than her.

“You were lucky my grandsire allowed this to happen so quickly.” He spoke blatantly as they began to dance. “I was hoping to expose your big secret to the court.”

She felt her insides twist. Knowing Aegon was aware of her and Aemond’s secret, of their sneaking around, had her wanting to retreat where no one would find her. Even now they were married, Aegon still had the power to destroy her reputation.

She just hoped he ruined his own before he had the chance to tear her down. 

“You think they would listen to the words of a drunken idiot?” 

His smile turned wicked, his disdain for her clear, though there was no denying the lust in his gaze as he looked at her. He didn’t have to like her to fuck her. 

“More than they would listen to a whore who spreads her legs for anyone.”

“You mean my husband?” She retaliated, her patience for him wearing thin. 

Aegon chuckled, though his bitterness was clear. He leaned in close, his nose almost brushing against hers. She jerked back, sending him a vicious scowl, all she could allow herself under the prying eyes that surrounded her. 

“You could have been mine.” He crooned, the wine on his breath making her feel nauseous. “Gods only know why you decided to settle for my twat of a brother. As if he could please you better than I could, as if he could fuck you the way I could. I bet you were the first woman he ever bedded.”

His words made her feel sick to her stomach as she staunchly looked past his shoulder, refusing to look him in the eye. She didn’t want him to know how much he could get under her skin. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I would rather let the entire brothel of whores you sully yourself with flay every layer of my skin off slowly until I beg for death than ever crawl into bed with you.”

Aegon only smirked joyously.

“The mouth on you.” He admired with a shake of his head. “Such a shame it’s wasted on my brother.”

“Aegon.”

The stern voice of his brother made his eyes widen for a fraction of a second and he quickly schooled his expression, quickly removing his hands from his new good sister, plastering on a smirk so his brother wouldn’t see how successfully he could intimidate him.

She turned, meeting the questioning gaze of her husband. She nodded subtly, silently assuring him she was ok. 

He’d been chatting with her brother but the moment he spotted her in Aegon’s arms, he had abruptly given his well wishes to his new family and was quickly making his way to rescue her from his lecherous brother’s grip.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded eagerly, linking her arm through his, more than eager to say goodbye to the feast and make her way to bed with her new husband. 

“What, no bedding ceremony?” Aegon called out, forcing Aemond to send him a wicked glare. 

“Not if you wish to live, brother.” He spat and turned on his heel, desperate to get his wife far away from his depravity. 

He was more than thankful his good father had appealed to his father about doing away with the bedding ceremony. The Lord of Ixtal cared about his daughter too much to put her through that embarrassment. 

“Did he do anything?” He asked under his breath as they walked away, ignoring the cheers of congratulations from the guests he cared little for.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched in anger, his instincts telling him to turn back and threaten his brother within an inch of his life for daring to speak to his wife in ways that were anything but cordial. 

The moment they stepped out of the grand hall, allowing them a brief moment of privacy in the empty hallway, she pulled her arm from his and took his hands in her own, turning to face him, a soft smile on her face.

“Don’t let him ruin our night. This isn’t about him or anyone else. It’s about us.” 

He let out a long breath and nodded, though it wasn’t an easy feat to let go of the anger that burned hotly at the mere mention of his debauched brother’s attention on his love. 

“Besides, I’m quite eager to get to bed and if my husband chooses to delay any longer, I might begin to rethink this union.” She teased, smiling victoriously as his eye darkened with desire.

Her laughter echoed in the halls as Aemond practically dragged her to their chambers, his quick pace signaling he was equally as eager as she was to lose themselves in bliss.

~~

She lay draped across his bare chest, the sheets pooled at their hips. She hummed in contentment, her limbs aching, her eyes heavy with exhaustion as Aemond gently ran his fingers up and down the length of her arm. 

Any other night, his touch would lull her into much needed sleep, but the excitement that continued to course through her veins stubbornly kept her eyes open. 

She turned her head, looking up at her husband.

Gods, she would never get over saying that.

He looked down, their shared smiles growing as their gazes met. 

Her hand that was placed on his strong chest cheekily began to move lower, making him laugh.

“You can’t possibly be needing more.” He spoke tiredly. They had already gone multiple rounds, he had already pulled a countless number of orgasms from her. 

“I thought I married a dragon.” She teased. “Are you saying you no longer have the stamina to please your wife?” 

Aemond’s gaze darkened, his exhaustion worn out by his desire she could so effortlessly spark. 

“You dare to doubt me, wife?” He crooned, knowing how deeply the word affected her, watching with satisfaction as she practically preened against him, a wickedly delightful thrill coursing through her at the mention of their newly married status. 

She laughed and pushed at his chest, forcing him to lay back onto the pillows below him. He eagerly expected her to crawl atop him and ride him in the deliriously, mind bending way she could, but he was left in a pleasured surprise as she began to press heated kisses across his abdomen, moving lower torturously slowly.

He let out a heavy breath, his body thrumming with anticipation. He hissed as she took him in her mouth, his head falling back, already feeling weak under her touch, sensitive from his previous leg-shaking peaks. 

Her wicked tongue knew exactly what to do to render him a useless fool who couldn’t remember his own name. His hand tangled in her hair that was already a mess from their previous passionate rounds. 

His breath left him in heavy pants as she worked him with her mouth at a quick pace. He knew her well, he knew the determined glint in her eye signaled trouble for him. She went further and further and took him deep in her mouth until the tip of him hit the back of her throat. 

He whined, writhing against the bed, his hand that wasn’t pulling at her hair pathetically fisting the sheets below him in an effort to keep himself tethered to some semblance of control that she was steadily shattering. 

“You are wicked.” He moaned, the delight in his voice causing her lips to curl around him in the guise of a victorious smile. 

His lips were parted with a litany of moans and whines as he watched her, eagerly taking in the sight of her, his cock in her mouth, her eyes alight with desire, greedily taking his pleasure. She sped up the pace of her mouth, delighted at the sound of his loud groan echoing throughout the room. 

His toes began to curl, his weak body, already spent from hours of ecstasy, leaving him powerless under her. 

He called out her name frantically, sounding more debauched than he ever would have imagined he could have. 

“Oh fuck, just like that, darling, don’t stop.” 

She doubled her efforts, eager to see him fall apart. She loved to hear his noises of pleasure, to see him so unrestrained as he let himself fall to the haze of bliss. His back arched, both of his hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair, as if to ensure she wouldn’t leave him wanting, that she stayed worshiping him as she was, as only she could.

“Love,” He warned, feeling his end nearing, feeling the familiar fire beginning to stir within him, one that came before a powerful release. With only a few more flicks of her tongue, he felt himself shatter. 

He cried out, a loud, desperate sound most wouldn’t believe to have come from the surly Prince, as he came. His vision was stolen from him as he had squeezed his eye shut in the moment of climax, though he wouldn’t have denied that she had just extricated his soul from his body, leaving him to lose what was left of his sight. He didn’t doubt she had the ability. 

His chest heaved, his jaw slack, small whines leaving him as she was slow to part from him, her mouth lazily working his spent cock that twitched in overstimulation at her touch. 

He reached for her blindly, his limbs weak as though he had just fought a grueling battle. She grabbed his hand, laughing softly at the sight of him thoroughly exhausted. 

She allowed him to pull her over him, his hands desperate to touch her, to feel her close to him, to prolong the pleasure running through him. 

He kissed her hand, his lips moving up the length of her arm until he reached her neck, smiling at the sound of the contented noise that left her lips as he found the spot that always made her giggle with ticklish delight. 

“One of these days you are going to stop my heart.” He told her, still working to catch breath. 

“I would never do such a thing.” 

He smiled and kissed her firmly, his mind a haze of delirium. He briefly wondered if he was dreaming, for this seemed too perfect to be his life. He kissed her again, as if to confirm that this was real, that the woman that just brought him pleasure like no other was truly before him, that he was lucky enough to now call her his wife. 

“Give me five minutes and I will return the favor.”

~~

Their marriage was nothing short of blissful. Now there was no longer a need to hide, the public was shocked by how affectionate the dragon Prince acted towards his wife. One was seldom seen without the other. 

Maids constantly gossiped about the salacious noises heard from their shared chambers practically all hours of the day. With the noises the new Princess made nightly they couldn’t help but begin to lust over the elusive Prince, or at least wish he could give some tips to their own lovers. They almost fought over who got to service the Prince and his new wife to catch a glimpse of the lovesick expression on the feared one-eyed dragon’s face. 

It had to be seen to be believed. 

They knew it wouldn’t be long until the announcement of a new Targaryen babe was made. 

Aemond hated the attention. He wished he could take his wife across the sea and indulge in their newly wedded bliss in private. 

He had just sneered at yet another passing Lady who practically fawned at the sight of the two of them, when she laughed, tucking her arm tighter in his. 

They had simply been walking in the gardens together and still couldn’t escape the gossiping Ladies of the court who could talk of nothing else but their marriage and ponder about the feared one-eyed Prince’s new found prowess among the Ladies. 

“Do they have nothing better to do?” Aemond muttered in annoyance.

“Our novelty will wear off soon.” She assured him. “They are just not quite used to seeing you so… soft.”

“I am not soft.”

She laughed, the sound causing him to look over at his wife incredulously. The disbelieving look on his face only had her suppressing more laughter, 

“Tell me, dear husband, if I told you my legs were hurting and I couldn’t possibly make it to that bench over there, would you not carry me?”

Aemond regarded her for a moment, an almost imperceptible pout growing on his lips as he contemplated the situation. He knew there was no way he wouldn’t indulge her in anything she asked for. 

“That does not make me soft.” He answered defensively, though he knew he was a lost cause. 

She giggled at the obvious answer as they continued to walk. Aemond looked over at her, eyeing her carefully for a few moments, his brows furrowing.

“Your legs are not hurting are they?” 

Her laughter rang out in the gardens as she leaned in closer to his side. Aemond felt his own smile tugging at his lips and he placed a kiss to the top of her head.

He knew he would endure all of the petty gossip that came his way. He would endure a lot worse just to hear that laugh again. 

He almost couldn’t believe the bliss he was living in. He loved her more than he thought it was possible to love someone. Now that they no longer had to hide their true feelings for each other, now that they were married and could freely show affection without any repercussions, he found himself living in a dreamlike state. 

It felt too good to be true. 

Every day was spent showing the rest of the court just how much she meant to him, how he was hers and she was his and no one else mattered, while late nights were spent tangled in bed, their limbs weak with pleasure, a time just for them and no one else. 

As she got up to pour them another cup of wine they had been drinking before he had dragged her to their bed, she looked over her shoulder at her husband who was looking up at the ceiling tiredly, a content smile on his face.

“Have I finally worn you out?” She teased as she handed him his cup. 

He chuckled softly and took the cup, drinking down much needed swallows of the sweet wine. She crawled back into bed beside him, settling herself in his open arms once again. She pressed teasing kisses across his chest, feeling the hum of soft moans that escaped him. 

He cupped her face and kissed her firmly, the gesture lacking much heat as they were both thoroughly spent from the haze of pleasure they’d been tangled in for hours. 

He pulled away, letting his forehead rest against hers as he took her in, simply admiring his wife with an awe that was certainly not unfamiliar to either of them. 

She noticed a flicker of something she didn’t recognize flash across his face, his eye softening almost imperceptibly. 

“What’s on your mind, Love?” She asked, nuzzling in closer to him as she sensed his sudden anxious energy. 

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, carefully contemplating his next words and if he should divulge the sudden thought in his head to her. 

“What if…” He started softly, his teeth worrying his lip as he feared her reaction. “What if you didn’t drink any moon tea tomorrow?”

Her expression smoothed out in surprise at his request. She couldn’t deny that it was something she had thought of since their wedding, but she had never spoken of her fantasies of silver haired children with her husband. She knew he had complicated feelings for his own family, especially his father, and she never wanted to bring it up in fear of pushing him to something he feared.  

“Is that something you want?” 

“I want everything with you.” He told her sincerely. 

The beaming smile that grew on her lips soothed every ounce of anxiety he had and he breathed out deeply, leaning forward to kiss her once more. 

“You’re going to be a wonderful father.” 

Her whispered words made his insides twist and flutter in ways that left him holding back the flood of emotions he hadn’t expected, her words soothing the deep rooted anxiety he felt at the prospect of starting a family, no matter how badly he wanted it. He had no way to tell her how grateful he was for her, there were no words conceivable to tell her the depth of his love for her. 

So he settled for kissing her, silently thanking the Gods above for bringing him to the woman in his arms. 

~~

Aemond stepped into their shared chambers the same time he always did, his perfect hair slightly disheveled from his time spent training. He stopped in his tracks, the warmth in his expression gone in an instant as he eyed the Maester sitting before her with growing apprehension.

“What’s wrong?” 

She laughed at his blatant worry as he approached her quickly, reaching for her hand. 

“Everything’s fine, Darling.” 

“What happened?” He turned to ask the Maester, all care gone from his voice, leaving nothing but strict power as he demanded an answer. 

“The Princess wasn’t feeling well this morn-”

“Are you alright? Why didn’t you tell me?” He interrupted, turning his attention back to her, his concerned tone back in full force, all traces of the demanding Prince gone as he kneeled before her, his expression wracked with worry. 

She smiled again in amusement and looked to the Maester. 

“Would you mind giving us a moment?” 

The old man nodded respectfully, giving her a warm smile and hastily leaving the room, most likely relieved to gain some distance from the dragon Prince with the feared temper. 

She intertwined her fingers with Aemond’s, taking in a deep breath as she prepared herself to bring him the life changing news. 

“I have been feeling a little off the last few days and I called the Maester to confirm my suspicion.” She explained vaguely, her mischievous smirk remaining as she watched Aemond’s brow furrow deeper in concern. 

“And?”

Deciding to finally let her husband off the hook and spare him his heart that was no doubt racing in anticipation, his dramatic mind probably conjuring horrible conclusions, she guided his hand forward, letting his palm rest flatly on her stomach. 

She watched him carefully, noting the exact moment he realized what she was telling him. His lips parted and his gaze moved from his hand to her face abruptly, his eye shrouded in disbelief, looking at her pleadingly, as if needing confirmation that this was real. 

She let out a laugh and nodded, tears brimming in her eyes at the pure love she saw in Aemond’s. He let out a breathless laugh, the sound of delight one she had never remembered ever hearing from him before. He grabbed her hands, swiftly bringing her to her feet and barely a second later, he was hugging her tightly, his hands gripping onto her desperately.

Her delighted laughter filled the room as he twirled her around, the moment filled with nothing but elation. 

“Thank you.” He whispered from where his head rested in the crook of her neck. 

She smiled, her own emotions rising at the sound of him so touched, so loved. 

He pulled out of the embrace, his gaze immediately falling to her stomach that had yet to show any evidence of the life that grew there. He pictured it swelling, the bump that would grow with their child, the life they had created together and he was sure his heart was moment away from bursting out of sheer love. 

“I can’t believe it.” He breathed out in awe. It had only been about a month since they had made the decision to forgo moontea, he had no idea it would happen for them this quickly. 

“With how often you take me to bed, surely this isn’t a surprise.” 

He looked almost proud at her jest and she shook her head, pulling him in for another embrace that he gladly returned, his arms holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world and if anyone were to ask, Aemond would certainly agree. 

He kissed the top of her head and pulled back, taking her face in his hands as he looked down at her reverently.

“You have given me more than I ever could have imagined I would have.” He told her honestly. “You’ve made me the happiest man to ever live.” 

He kissed her with all the love he could, hoping it would be enough to convey every ounce of adoration he held for her. 

However, their peace didn’t last long. 

Rhaenyra and her sons would soon be arriving at King’s Landing to counter Vaemond Velaryon’s petition for the Driftmark throne.

The moment Aemond heard the news, he became reserved, building that familiar brooding wall around him, portraying that of the feared one-eyed prince the court loved to gossip about. 

The night before they were due to arrive, he had resided in their chambers, wishing to avoid the prying eyes of the court and their whispers about his bastard nephews and the likelihood of there being another duel between them that would result in bloodshed.

He heard the door of their shared chambers open and close, but his gaze remained on the flickering flames in the hearth in front of him. 

“There you are.” Her sweet voice called out, his wife taking her place at his side. “I’ve barely seen you all day.”

“I’ve been here.” He responded softly, his voice lacking its usual warmth that was always present with her. 

She watched him carefully, knowing exactly what was eating away at him, but hesitant to mention it, unsure of how he would react. The mere mention of his nephews was enough to incite his rage. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” She asked softly.

“No.”

His voice was curt, betraying just how tormented he felt. A flare of pain lashed his scar, the sapphire in place of his eye seemingly burning, as if the thought of that Strong bastard’s imminent arrival alone could cut him like the dagger he wielded that night. 

A tense silence lingered between them, one they both hated. 

With a pained hiss, he tore his eye path off, tossing it to the side carelessly, his sharp features contorted in pain. He leaned his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands as the sapphire in his eye bloomed with pain. 

It wasn’t often the wound still caused him aggravation, but in the moments it did, he always felt like he was that young, helpless boy again. His hands shook slightly as the pain flared so deeply it was all he could do to breathe through it. 

Within seconds he felt gentle hands on his, carefully prying them from his face. He looked up to his wife sitting before him, the concern on her face stirring his emotions he tried desperately to hold back. 

He noticed the vial of ointment in her hands, the one the Maesters gave to him to use whenever his wound became unbearable. He was tense as she cradled his cheek, her thumb caressing the edge of his scar, her eyes taking in the angry looking wound. She had seen him do this for himself a few times but he had never let her do it before. 

She looked at him thoughtfully, posing a silent question to which he nodded slightly, still hesitant to let her touch what was his greatest shame, but the pain was becoming unbearable, he was left out of options. 

She dipped her finger into the ointment and carefully applied it to his eye, her own heart racing as she felt her husband was baring a piece of himself he had been adamant on hiding for so long. 

As her fingers brushed as gently as possible across his wounded eye, the cooling ointment bringing him relief immediately, he finally started to let himself relax, releasing a long breath. 

She reached out with her other hand, laying it over his own that was still clenched into a fist, beginning to trace meaningless shapes over his knuckles. Her touch soothed something in him he didn’t even know could be soothed, the simple gesture enough for him to feel comforted in a way only she could give him. He sighed loudly as he sank into his seat, the rigidity leaving him limb by limb. 

Smiling softly at the sight of him so much calmer than before, she moved to sit next to him once she was finished. Aemond was quick to close the distance between them, moving in closer to her side, taking her hand in his, eager for her touch. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, the look of reverence he sent her stirring her own emotions and she suddenly found herself on the verge of tears. She would never understand what he went through as a child, she would never understand what he felt for his nephews, but she was adamant she would be there for him in the moments he struggled. 

“You never need to thank me for this.” She assured him. 

Another heavy breath escaped him, as if his ire was leaving him with each exhale. His resentment was no match for the love his wife gave him. It would succumb to her each and every time. 

His hand roamed gently over her body, eventually finding its place on her stomach, where it stayed, pulling a small laugh from her.

“You do realize there’s no bump yet.”

Aemond just shrugged, the look of contentment on his face a far cry from the derision that had steadily remained all day. 

“It doesn’t matter. He’s still in there.”

“He?”

He seemed bashful as he looked up at his wife, a slight blush on his cheeks, as if embarrassed to admit the many nights he spent thinking about their child, imagining their son as the perfect mix of them both, of how much he already loved their child. 

“It’s just a feeling.” 

She began to picture it, Aemond cradling their son, his eyes the same vibrant blue of his father’s, his smile wide, his cheeks chubby, every bit of him absolutely perfect. 

Her own smile grew, her vision growing blurry as tears gathered in her eyes at the thought, her hormones that were now on a hair trigger since her pregnancy, coming to a head. 

“Hey,” Aemond called out in concern, reaching up to caress her cheek and she shook her head, letting out a small laugh.

“They’re happy tears.” 

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her softly. It was easy to forget the turmoil he felt, that he was soon to face the object of his anger, when he was next to his wife, their child growing within her. 

That night, he was ravenous. He had taken her with a fervor he hadn’t felt in weeks. He had been insatiable when he knew of her pregnancy, but he seemed to treat her like glass, as if she were now delicate because of the precious life that grew within her. 

His touches had always been gentle, but urgent, hungry yet loving. 

Tonight, he was starved. He fucked her as if they were newlyweds again, every touch portraying just how desperate he felt for her. 

“Aemond!” She cried out, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling hard as he brought her to yet another blissful orgasm.

He growled, burying his face in the crook of her neck, the enticing nip at her neck making her moan. His steady pace never faltered, his powerful hips crashing against hers as he chased his own end. 

Her cries turned to laughs, delirious with pleasure. 

“I love you.” She breathed out and screamed as his pace became quicker, his thrusts becoming harsher, more frantic as he quickly approached his high. 

“Say it again.” He growled, now hovering over her as he gazed down at the beauty beneath him, his eye and the striking sapphire a sight that left her shivering under his tight grip.

“I love you.” She repeated, hoping he believed every word, hoping he knew just how much she cherished him, how much he meant to her. “You are the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I’ll ever love for the rest of my life.”

His jaw clenched, his eye squeezing shut as the sight of her below him, writhing in pleasure, was just too much to handle. He was powerless against her. 

His thrusts became relentless, the bed shaking beneath them with every one of his brutal strokes. 

He breathed harshly, feeling as though flames were alight in his veins. 

“Again.” He commanded roughly. 

She shivered at the commanding edge of his voice, her toes curling as she felt sparks ignite within her. 

“I love you, more than anything.” 

Her breathless words were his undoing. He shouted a curse and groaned loudly, his arms feeling weak as he practically fell over her, never stopping his movements, his cock thrusting into her almost violently as he came, his body shaking against hers. 

She gasped at the feeling of him spilling inside her, her arms wrapping tighter around him, her head thrown back as she cried out, his name falling from her lips in a chant, as if he were a deity she prayed to for salvation. 

“I love you.” She whispered breathlessly and began to laugh tiredly as he planted kisses over the expanse of her neck, making his way upwards until he met her lips, kissing her soundly, as if she were the very air he breathed. 

“I love you.” He panted in a blissful daze. 

By the next morning, every good feeling Aemond had coveted the night before had dissipated like smoke in the wind. 

He woke early and spared his sleeping wife a kiss to the forehead before heading to the training yard where he spent the rest of the morning, endlessly sparring with Ser Criston and any other worthy opponent available when the knight needed a break from his endless plights. 

Those that dared to step up were left bloody and bruised in a matter of minutes. 

Aemond was wound tightly, his entire being ready to snap as he laid his eye on his nephews for the first time in years. The fury that had been buried deeply within him for years bubbled to the surface with one look at the brown haired bastards. 

The sapphire in place of his eye burned as his glare remained steady on them. 

He preened inwardly as they cowered under his eye. To know they couldn’t meet his gaze brought him more satisfaction than he had expected. He grabbed his sword and gestured to Ser Criston to get into position.

He fought with determination as if he were in actual battle, as if his life was truly threatened and every movement dictated his survival. With every powerful strike of his sword against Criston’s shield, he felt vindicated, as though the years of shame that had come from the bullying he endured from his own brother and nephews stripped off layer by layer with each powerful swing of his weapon. 

His eye drifted to his nephews, a sickly satisfied smirk growing at the sight of their intimidation. 

They held no power over him now. He had made sure of it. 

“Husband.” 

Her voice cut through the haze of victory he had been lavishing in. He turned on his heel, confusion overtaking him as he saw his wife standing in the training yard. He dropped his sword and rushed over to her side. 

“What are you doing down here? Is everything alright?”

She didn’t often make her way down into the training yards and with her current state, he couldn’t help but fret over her every minute of the day he was with her.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t killing yourself before the petition.”

He sighed heavily. He didn’t know if he loved or hated how easily his wife could read him. She took his hand and he let her guide him out of the yard. 

“You’ve been here for hours, I think you’ve earned yourself a break.” 

He opened his mouth to retort, but she stopped him with a knowing look. 

“Based on the looks on your nephews face’s I think you’ve proven everything you needed to prove.”

The smirk that grew on his lips should have worried her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel any concern for the ire he felt for his nephews. It was more than justified, she just hoped it would be enough, that their visit to the Keep wouldn’t result in any more bloodshed. 

Aemond looked back into the training yard, as if hesitant to leave the glory he’d managed to carve out for himself, for the retribution he felt he had finally earned, no matter how slight it was, but her hand in his forced him back to her in an instant. 

“Don’t let them get to you. They hold no power over you.” She told him softly and he let out a long breath, allowing the hatred that had been clouding him all day roll over him like dark thunder clouds making way for the shining sun to warm up the earth after a vicious storm. 

His hand remained steadily in hers, as if needing her like a lifeline in tumultuous waves. She was the only thing that kept him tethered to himself, that kept him from spiraling into his anger. 

She could see how tense he was and if it were any other day, if they didn’t have royal duties to attend to, she would’ve been content to keep him in their chambers and let him use her to both of their delights until he was spent, too exhausted to feel any anger at all. 

She didn’t like to see him in this state. It was so unlike the sweet boy that had been by her side for years. She didn’t like what her nephews had created in him the night he claimed Vhagar. 

~~

The petition unfolded as she expected. While King Viserys’ presence had been a surprise, Vaemond’s demise certainly wasn’t, especially after the accusations he had spouted to Princess Rhaenyra and her sons. 

Aemond had tugged on her arm, instinctively pulling her behind him as Daemon brought his sword down upon the man. 

He had shielded her from the violent display, something she had been grateful for. With the pregnancy hormones swirling within her, she most often felt nauseous around anything that wasn’t plain bread. The sight of Vaemond’s severed head would’ve been enough to put her off eating for the rest of her life. 

As the court reacted in a frenzy to the brutal display, Aemond had placed his hand on her stomach, his eye looking her over carefully, ready to rush her out of the room at the slightest hint of nausea. 

She gripped his hand and nodded to his silent question, assuring him she was ok, that she wasn’t about to spill her guts in front of everyone, though the darkened look in his eye remained. Who it was targeted at, she wasn’t quite sure. 

Neither one of them had been looking forward to the family dinner Viserys was adamant on hosting. It was as if he was completely oblivious to the tension in the family as he forced them in proximity to each other. 

Aemond had barely spoken a word as they readied themselves for dinner. He was tense, his face drawn tightly, as if he expected the worst to unfold, as if he were facing enemies on a battlefield and not a simple dinner with his family. 

“We don’t have to attend.” She told him, wishing she could protect him from the torment he felt in the face of his nephews. 

He didn’t spare a look to her, every inch of him was shrouded in anger, barely contained fury that he couldn’t shake. He didn’t seem like the man she married at that moment. 

“Why wouldn’t I attend?” He asked, as if his torment wasn’t visible, as if she wasn’t aware of the burning anger he couldn’t shake, the vitriol he experienced as a child coming back to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of the slights that he had been faced with. 

“Aemond,” She started softly. “No one expects you to forgive them.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head, his expression filled with bitter irritation. 

“No one expects me to hold any anger at all.” 

She frowned deeply and approached him slowly, eyeing him carefully. She had never felt so out of depth when it came to her husband but she would be damned if she left him to suffer alone.

“We don’t have to go.”

He clenched his jaw, his eye holding a faraway look, signaling he was deep in thought. 

She reached out, cupping his face in his hands, startling him out of his reverie that was filled with nothing but hatred. 

“You just tell me and we’ll leave. I’ll make an excuse and we can go without any question.”

Her words, her ability to show him she was staunchly in his corner, a feeling no one else had ever assured him of, disarmed him completely. There was one thing his nephews would never take from him, the love he felt from his wife stood the test of time, standing strongly against any other force that dared to weaken him. His eye softened, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm, his fingers gently caressing her skin. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” He whispered, his voice cloaked with reverence, as if surprised by the love she held for him. 

She frowned, hating when he spoke as if he didn’t deserve the love she showed him, as if it was some kind of gift he wasn’t worthy of coveting. 

“You read to me my second day here.” She answered simply, reminding him of the beginning of it all, when they were nothing more than two wonderstruck children. 

He exhaled deeply, desperately wanting to hold onto that feeling that always surrounded him when he thought of their childhood together, like warmth embracing him soundly. 

It was a feeling he kept close to him as they walked to the dining hall, though he knew it was futile. The feeling would be gone, shielded in the depths of him in the face of his family.

As they stepped into the hall, Aemond left her side to grab her a drink from the servers, allowing her to step towards Rhaena and Baela, greeting them politely. Rhaena was quick to give her a smile, while Baela only had distrustful eyes to throw in her direction. 

Her name was called and she turned to see Rhaenyra approaching her with a warm smile. 

She smiled and embraced the Princess slightly awkwardly. She had fond memories of the woman growing up, especially in times when she was desperately missing her own mother, but it had been years since she had seen her and knowing her actions on the night Aemond’s eye had been taken had irrevocably changed her view of the woman since.

“It’s good to see you again, Dear.” Rhaenyra smiled warmly at her. “Where is your father, I was hoping to say hello.”

“He’s at Ixtal. He was missing my mother and decided to take a short visit.” 

“You didn’t join him?”

She felt her cheeks heat at the question and she couldn’t help but smile. 

“I would, but I wasn’t exactly in a good state to travel.” She explained and placed her hand on her stomach exaggeratedly. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened and she beamed a smile, laughing happily. 

“That is wonderful news.” The Princess congratulated. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” 

A hand on the small of her back made her look up to see her husband now at her side, his steely eye locked onto his half-sister whose smile faltered at his sudden presence. She cleared her throat, her demeanor now tense as she nodded politely in greeting.

Rhaenyra left their side quickly, leaving her to wonder just how deeply one family could fracture. She couldn’t imagine ever greeting her brothers in that manner. She couldn’t imagine hating the ones she shared blood with. 

Letting out a long breath, knowing she was in for an eventful night, she turned to Aemond, placing her hand on his arm that was stiff, as if he wouldn't allow himself to relax or even take a breath in their presence. 

They all took their seats, the tension in the room strangling as King Viserys was carried in. 

She held back a grimace at the sight of the decrepit King. He was a far cry from the man she had met all those years ago, far from the man who was a dear friend to her father. 

The awkward aura in the room remained steadfast, with most avoiding eye contact with each other. Even Viserys’ heartened speech about family and the uniting of the house of the dragon did little to mend the obvious rift in the family.

Until Rhaenyra stood. She was shocked to hear her speak such lovely words about the Queen and for the Queen to return the sentiment. 

Their apparent truce for the time being broke the tension, though her husband at her side remained tense, his lone eye unflinchingly cold as he regarded his distant family. 

Her eyes kept circling back to him, as if waiting for the moment he would strike. She wondered when the wood of the chair under his white-knuckled grip would splinter. She wondered when the night would take an irredeemable turn.

She didn’t even get to enjoy Helaena’s thinly veiled jab towards Aegon in her toast, she was too worried about her husband to pay attention to the others around her. 

When the music began, signaling the end of the toasts, she leaned back in her seat, giving her husband a small encouraging smile, anticipating that they had made it through the worst the night had to offer. 

Aemond remained stiff as stone, his posture straight and rigid. She noticed his eye darken further, his gaze locked past her and she turned, her brows furrowing slightly as Jacaerys stepped towards her, a hopeful smile on his face.

“Would you care to dance, Princess?” He asked, offering her his hand. 

She stared at his hand for a long second, contemplating her choices. With the entirety of the table watching the exchange, she knew she had little choice but to accept his offer. 

She spared a brief glance to her husband beside her and the fury that blazed in his lone eye would have melted the wall in the great north. With a heavy breath, she gingerly took Jace’s hand and stood from her seat, allowing him to guide her away from the table.

Her husband’s gaze practically burned at her back. 

Aemond watched with barely contained rage as the bastard danced with his wife. His teeth grinded together so harshly it was a wonder they didn’t crack. He briefly contemplated what the repercussions would be if he murdered the Strong bastard where he stood. 

The fire within him was simmering, ready to unleash as he watched another man touch his wife. The smile on the bastard’s face left Aemond wondering whether he should slit his throat, dismember him, or let Vhagar turn him to ash. 

None of the choices seemed punishment enough. 

As Jace twirled her, her eyes briefly met Aemond’s and her stomach twisted at his expression. She knew tonight wouldn’t end peacefully. 

She flinched slightly as Jace quickly spun her back into his arms, causing her to almost crash into his chest, forcing her much closer to him than she felt was necessary. She leaned back to gain some distance, hoping it wasn’t noticeable, hoping her husband hadn’t been able to tell she had been uncomfortable for a mere second.

Jace would be dead and buried before the sun rose if that were the case. 

“I have to admit, I was quite shocked when I heard the news of your wedding.” Jace suddenly spoke, keeping his voice low so only she would hear. 

“What was so shocking?”

“I didn’t expect you to end up with someone like him.”

“Someone like him? You mean my oldest friend?” She questioned, disdain creeping through her tone, her defenses raised, which didn’t allow her the wherewithal to speak in a friendly manner. 

Jace sighed, as if wanting to dispute the simple fact that she and Aemond had been close for years before marriage was even a thought in either of their heads. 

“You two are very different.” He said with a slight shrug. “I pictured you with someone more… warm, romantic even.” 

“I assure you, my prince, my husband is plenty romantic. You do not need to worry yourself about my marriage.” She smiled stiffly. 

Jace, seeming to sense her attitude, remained silent for the remainder of the dance. As the song ended, she politely curtsied and was walking back to the table before he could rise from his bow. 

The tension didn’t dissipate as she took her seat at her husband’s side once more. If anything, the fury radiating from the man beside her only set her more on edge. Aemond leaned into her, making her shoulders tense both in apprehension and desire. 

“If he touches you again, I will break every bone in his body.” Aemond hissed in her ear, smirking delightedly at the shiver she repressed. 

She looked up at him, his fury now morphed into an insatiable hunger only she could tame. She knew she would be in for a long night. 

She was just thankful he seemed to be feeling anything other than murderous rage. 

But it did not last long. 

She had been speaking quietly to Helaena, Aemond’s hand in hers, his thumb caressing over her knuckles a steady comfort when he suddenly pulled away. 

She barely had time to look over at her husband before he was bolting out of his chair. His fist that slammed on the table made her flinch in surprise, her wide eyes looking up at him in confusion.

“Final tribute.” 

Her heart raced wildly in her chest, her gaze wandering around the table, wondering what could have possibly stoked his fury. It wasn’t until she saw the sheepish guilt that permeated with fear on Lucerys’ expression that she began to understand. 

“To the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong.”

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, her wide eyed gaze meeting Alicent’s for a brief moment, his mother looking equally as petrified for what was to unfold. 

“Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

She sent her husband a pleading look, but it was lost on him, his gaze, full of hatred, cemented on his nephews. 

“I dare you to say that again.”

“Why? Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

She gasped, her hand covering her mouth as Jace landed a punch to Aemond’s cheek. The room erupted in chaos. She could watch with disappointment as her husband pushed his nephew to the ground, as Aegon joined in and shoved Lucerys against the table. 

Helaena stood from her seat and rushed towards her, her face shrouded in fear. She sighed and stood from her seat, wrapping her arm around her friend who seemed disturbed by the rift tearing in her family before her. 

“It’s alright.” She assured her. 

Across the room, Rhaenyra’s eyes bored into hers, pleading, as if she had any control over her husband’s ire. She sent her an apologetic look and bowed her head, wishing Aemond had taken up her offer to avoid the dinner altogether. 

The room came to a standstill, the fighting men separated, a room divided by two factions. 

Aemond glared at his uncle who looked at him as if disappointed, as if he were out of line to enact revenge for the slight against him. 

He grit his teeth and in a quick motion, swallowed the wine left in his cup before turning back to the table. He avoided looking at his wife as he grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him as he stormed out of the room.

Her feet moved quickly to keep up with his quick pace, her heart in her throat as he led them through the halls.

Once they were back in their chambers, her eyes seldom left him, watching every one of his movements carefully, noticing how highly strung he still was, how stiffly he moved as paced for a moment before he finally took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

His anger wouldn’t be leaving him easily. 

“Are you alright?”

He stayed quiet for a long moment, gazing ahead blankly, the burning fury that simmered in his veins leaving him practically trembling, the desire to wreak havoc not yet dissipating. 

Every part of him was wrought with tension, his mind a mess of thoughts, though his anger was the easiest to make sense of. 

“Don’t try to convince me that what I did was wrong.” He spoke bitterly.

“I won’t.” 

His jaw clenched, the events of the last few minutes running through his head on a loop, keeping him in the state of rage that made him shake, that made his hands twitch, wishing he had done more, wishing he could hurt that bastard the way he had been hurt all those years ago.

The thought briefly startled him. It was a thought he used to have frequently, when the rage in his heart was so new he didn’t know what to do with it. It was a thought he hadn’t focused on since being with her. 

The revelation had an unfamiliar upset stirring within him.

“I should sleep in my old chambers tonight.” He muttered tersely. 

The bitter anger burned within him, he felt on the edge of cracking and he would hate himself if he ever took it out on her, his sweet wife. He felt he needed to be far away from her to avoid darkening her with his presence.

“What?”

The sadness in her voice almost broke him. He closed his eye and bowed his head, he couldn’t bear to see the look on her face. 

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

It was quiet for a long moment, his words lingering in the room like an ominous death rattle that signaled the bitter end after a long, torturous fight. 

But she refused to let him sink into his despair. 

He flinched as she stepped before him, catching his gaze. Her hands smoothed out the doublet he wore, roaming upwards to brush the hair off his shoulders and gently caressing his neck as she reached up to hold his jaw affectionately. 

He let out a deep breath, the tension slowly but surely easing from him in waves under her touch. 

“I am not letting you feel this alone.” She told him, her voice soft yet stern, letting him know there was no way he would change her mind about this, that nothing could force her to accept his absence from her side. 

“I don’t seem to recognize myself around them.”

His whispered confession hit her harder than she had expected and she felt her breath hitch in her throat, her own emotions rising to the surface at the sight of him so tormented. 

“You can never undo what they took from you.” She began slowly, her voice wavering slightly. “I’ll never understand what you’ve been through. I wish I could and I’m so sorry I don’t, but you cannot let this consume you.”

His face remained a mask of torment, his derision and anger battling against the exhaustion that permeated his bitterness, that left him feeling weak in the aftermath of his rage. 

She gently guided him to tilt his head upward so she could look at him, so he could see her and the resolution on her face and understand her honesty.

“You are more than your eye. You are more than the rage you feel when you look at them. You are more than them.”

He almost shuddered under her hands, the words striking him with force as though they were dealt with a physical hit. 

“I see you, the real you. The one I fell in love with, my sweet husband, the father of my child.” 

With that, she grabbed his hand to place it over her stomach and his expression changed in an instant, the anger gone as he caressed where his child grew. 

He leaned forward, his forehead falling to rest against her chest, his arms circling her waist. He spread his legs, allowing her to step closer to him, her own arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him tightly. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, the soft motions pulling a soft sound from deep within him, his rigid body falling lax against her. 

As she hugged him tightly she felt her eyes begin to sting with tears. She wished she could pull the agony from him, untangle the strings of rage that wound him so tightly. 

She wished she could’ve gone back in time and held tighter to the wounded boy who hid his despair from her for so long. 

~~

The girls are fightinggg

And the angst is coming xx

~~

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↳ _ynln: the only time kid isn't wrecking havoc, the fike effect!!

trafalgar_d.law: rare photo of eustass where his hair isn't radiating hairspray fumes (liked by p1rateking_luffy)

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: ITS ALL NATURAL

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: dont be mad that i actually take care of my hair

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: i can smell ur 10 in 1 from here

↳ p1rateking_luffy: HAHA Tra guy is write 😂😂

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: STFU YOU DONT EVEN SHOWER. YOURE A NATURAL HUMAN REPELLENT.

↳ trafalgar_d.law: omg strawhat please learn how to spell

↳ _ynln: PLEASE YOU GUYS ARE SO ANNOYING TAKE THIS TO THE DMS 😭

♡ liked by trafalgar_d.law, killerrr and 3.7k others

_ynln: kid refuses to share his lipsticks with me 😪😪

tagged: CAPTAIN.KIIIID

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: ew why would i want cooties from you

↳ _ynln: ive seen you eat pasta off the ground 😐

↳ hey_its_heat: puts you into perspective

↳ _ynln: WTF WHY AM I GETTING SHIT ON

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: YEAH CAUSE YOU LOSE THEM

↳ _ynln: IT WAS ONE TIME

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: I STILL WANT MY ROMAND#23 NUCADAMIA BACK

killerrr: simp 🥱🥱

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: how do i dislike a comment

lovenami: wtf why does he have a better collection than me

↳ _ynln: life is so unfair 😔💔

♡ liked by theroronoa.zoro, wirewirewire and 4.1k others

_ynln: i'll never shut up about this

thanks for the tickets loser <3

tagged: CAPTAIN.KIIIID, m.by__sana

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: thanks to yn im a certified once now

wirewirewire: YOU GUYS WENT TO TWICE WITHOUT US?!

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: imagine not being able to see the feels live 🥱🥱

↳ _ynln: kid wtf KFJWBHJDJ 😭😭

lovenami: HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO GET TICKETS I WAS STRUGGLING

↳ _ynln: IDK HAHA KID GOT THEM FOR ME

doflamingo_: I'll get you VIP tickets next time, hmu

↳ _ynln: im blocking u, you're practically a senior citizen

↳ trafalgar_d.law: wtf are u doing on her page?

↳ killerrr: when worlds collide.

↳ lovenami: yn take one for the team 🤞🤞

↳ heyl_its_heat: you’ll be remembered 🤕🤕☝️

↳ CAPTAIN.KIIIID: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING ON MY GIRL'S ACCOUNT

↳ p1rateking_luffy: 😆

↳ theroronoa.zoro: this is actually funny asf

♡ liked by killerrr, lovenami and 4.8k others

_ynln: im thirdwheeling my own relationship ☝️

tagged: CAPTAIN.KIIIID, killerrr

hey_its_heat: being self aware >>>

wirewirewire: THIS IS CRAZY LFMAOO

lovenami: GIRL ITS NOT YOUR RELATIONSHIP ANYMORE 💀💀

killerrr: bffr i was the one third wheeling, if i have to see u guys kiss one more time i’m ending it 😐😐

↳ _ynln: 😭😭

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: you woke us up cause u were bored and wanted to gossip

↳ _ynln: okay and you weren’t complaining when i was telling you all the new world drama 🤨🤨

↳ killerrr: how do you even know about all of it 😭😭

↳ _ynln: nami, robin, chopper and me have the best gos talks <3

↳ nicorobin: so real (liked by lovenami, ilovecottoncandychopper)

CAPTAIN.KIIIID 2h

[CAPTAIN.KIIIID] _ynln replied to your story: omg why are u being cute, what did u do

[bengals-barnesbabe]

“Thank You TikTok” Masterlist

~ a series of text imagines between you and Joe all inspired by random TikTok videos ~

Started: 12 September 2024

Last Updated: 21 November 2024

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

fluff - 🌞 smut - 🌚 mix - 🌗 angst - ☄️

most popular - 🌙 newest - ⚡️ request - 💫

i. booktok ~ ever since he downloaded TikTok, Joe’s learnt a lot more about his beautiful bookworm 🌗

ii. say high ~ Joe takes part in some recreational activities and tries (and fails) to hide it from those who know him the best 🌗💫

iii. the real afterparty ~ y/n comes across a TikTok of a bride and groom doing a wardrobe change together, so naturally, she asks her fiance his opinion 🌚

iv. happy weight ~ nothing says a great relationship like two people falling in love while getting fat together, well that’s what TikTok says 🌖

v. pay attention ~ cons to working with your man... he's you're a distraction 🌞

vi. come home ~ it’s been a while since you’ve seen your man, so you left him a present🌒

vii. how that shit tastes ~ they say it's a man's drink so you've never tried it, so you ask your man about his drink of choice 🌗

viii. you like that ~ inspired by another TikTok, Joe compiles a list of things he likes about you🌖

ix. babies ~ you tell your husband about your daughter's supermarket antics, and he gets baby fever? 🌖

x. heroes & princes ~ everyone makes mistakes, even great boyfriends but especially if he has Tee and Ja’Marr as friends 🌞

xi. roses ~ you have a new favorite song and a certain TikTok gives you an idea on how to introduce it to your man 🌚

xii. you're enough ~ you and Joe feel losses hard, so you try your best to make him feel better after this one 🌖

xiii. i can fix her ~ you end up on Joe's fyp for the worst reason possible ☄️

xiv. im a fan ~ Joe finds your secret TikTok account in the best way possible 🌖

xv. it's just a trend ~ you participate in a certain dance trend with a song Joe does not like ☄️ 🌖

xvi. hey shawty ~ you watched a TikTok on how to domesticate your boyfriend, let's see how he does ☄️🌞

xvii. treat me ~ despite always receiving royalty treatment from your boyfriend, you decide to tease him with one of your favorite songs🌚

xviii. ruined me ~ Joe ruined you for all men, this is how he reacts when you tell him 🌗

xix. hey daddy ~ in order to keep your relationship fresh, you do what all couples do... send each other ridiculous pick up lines 🌘

xx. boyfriend blindness ~ your boyfriend becomes a comedian, so you have to show him who he's playing with 🌖

xxi. mini gossip girl ~ your daughter comes home and spills everything about her dad's life 🌞

xxii. daddy duties ~ Joe's left alone for more than a few hours with his boys and chaos ensues 🌞

xxiii. mini gossip girl 2 ~ your daughter is at it again, but this time it works out in Joe's favor🌖

xxiv. talkin nonsense ~ relationships should be fun, especially when you both are on the same level 🌘

xxv. speechless ~ you sent your friend Joe some messages that were not for him to see 🌖

xxvi. mini gossip girl 3 ~ 11.27 🌖

xxvii. just friends ~ 11.30 🌗

updates about twice a week🪷

requests to join this series are open! just send me a quote or link to a video and your fav pic of Joe (along with anything else you desire) to be included!

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea ��� or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

-

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

-

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

-

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.   

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

-

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

[astroohoe]

Astro observations

Hi! I know its been a while since i posted ...was going through some thangs loll now let's get to itttt.

•Gemini women loves to gossip lol. They can literally be gossiping about you while youre literally there, they do not care if you hear or not . Honestly, i think the end goal was for you to hear theyre talking shit about you lol

•Gemini women have anger issues. They're really HOT TEMPERED and you can hear it from the top of their voice it's soooo bad😑

•Virgo women are mean 😑...most people dislike virgo women because they can criticize you, judge you all day and it might even seem like they bullying you lol...im a virgo myself and i don't even like most of the virgo women ive met ........they're personality is just 100% TRASH and they're sooo blunt eiiii😂😂😂

Ex:Beyonce in destinys's child...lol search for her old interviews with the...girl has been judging them all day😂 and the SHADE she used to give to them!! Guuuuuuuuurl was shady aslllll😂😂😂😂

•Taurus women are GOLDIGERS

•Aries sun men are selfish sometimes, they'll choose themselves first and you'll be soooo surprised😂

•Scorpio men are SENSITIVE! DRAMA KINGS ALL DAY...I swear I've never seen a man act sooooo petty and a bitch at the same time lol.

•Scorpio men are caring

•Scorpio men love love and loves the idea of love and a relationship lol they cant be single for oneday, always looking .

•Grown Capricorn men are 100% PREDATORY🙄

•Pieces men literally have a phase in their early 20's where they're just HOES and a menace in their relationships🤣😭😭😭 they could be dating three of four girls at the time and you wont even figure it out..that Neptune energy blurs all the lies..it makes them a GOOD LIAR and skilled at it....they can even gaslight you when you ask them if they are cheating on you...but when they grow in their 40's they actually STEP UP as MEN .they can literally reject girls to tell them im married and i love me wife..so be patient...They're also EXTREMELY LOVING AND SELF SACRIFICING 🥰🥰🥰🥰

.Pieces venus and mars knows how to give love, lol they're soooooo sweet. You're lucky to have a Pieces venus a bf or gf they know how to love.

•Virgo venuses are hoes100%

•Aquarius women are hypocrites but solo beautiful. They are shady friends and good at stealing peoples husbands and boyfriends....they're NOT that good of a people tbh.

•Sagitarrius women are thee most intelligent in the class followed by Capricorn women. They always get good grades . lol are you messing with a half horse half human and LITERALLY THE GOAT??😂😂😂 at you dumb??

•EARTH SIGNS WOULD ROAST YOU...YOU REALLY DO NOT WANT THE SMOKE WITH THEM....ESPECIALLY WITH TAURUS MEN...THEY WILL ROAST YOU TO EVEN END UP GETTING PLASTIC SURGERY

•Capricorn men can insult you on every deeper level.

•Virgo women have a sharp tongue and they can literally plan on revenging you honestly...im even scared of earth signs they're not to be played with .

•Sagitarius women see LITERALLY every women as they're competion...why??? They are one of theee most jealous signs EVER...LIKE??

•Gemini women are annoying tbh😑

•Capricorn girls were the mean girls in school 100%

•Aquarius mercuries have a smart mouth and a sooooo intelligent.

•Cancer women are soooo feminine...and extremely funny ...my beauties>>>>>>

•LEOS are soooooo motherly😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 like, i love y'all

•Aries and Libra....why do y'all like each other sooooo much??...and most of the times , it is the libras who chases the Aries suns...The libra men are sooooo obsessed with the Aries woman, or Aries rising lol....

So thats it forrrrr meeeee ......hope you enjoyed? Byeeee

[d-0gstar]

FANCAST MASTERPOST!!!

James - Dominic Fike 🦌

A traditional one! Hes just perfect man, put some glasses on this boy and that's jamie potts

Sirius - Conan Gray 🐾

I don't see this one as much as some of the others and it pains me because I love it! The hair is what makes it tbh

Remus - @/p4perback 🌙

I know I know it's a cosplay but it's genuinely the best one I've ever seen and it looks exactly like him

Peter - Maxwell Acee Donovan 🐀

Even just this picture and pose in of itself is so pete

Marlene - Sophie Thatcher 🕯

of course!

Mary - Sofia Bryant 🎉

again OF COURSE!

Lily - Eleanor Neal 🌸

ive never really seen anyone else share this one but i adore it!

Reggie - Timothee Chalamet ⭐️

i mean i feel like i didnt even need to say this one

Barty - Maxence Danet-Fauvel 🚬

another familiar one but its common for a reason! thats barty in the real!

Evan - @/kewannn4 🌿

i found him via pinterest and immediately went "omg... thats evan..."

Dorcas - Savannah Smith 💄

the gossip girl reboot is perfect for scene packs!

Pandora - @/canfrgu 🔮

im not a big fan of the rosier twins hc BUT if thats ur thing i think this one works great with evans!

Bellatrix - Kathryn Newton (specifically as Lisa Swallows) 🐍

shes perfect! again the HAIR!

Andromeda - Natalia Dyer ☕️

Natalia my love <3 the woman you are

Narcissa - Anika Braun 🪞

again the HAIR a big part of the blacks is their hair

[agentrouka-blog]

Favourite sassy Sansa moments ??

This one is still my favourite:

“When Lady Anya first told me of this match, I was afraid that you might look like your father."

"Little pointy beard and all?" Alayne laughed.

“I never meant..."

"I hope you joust better than you talk."

I know she’s technically playing a role here but SANSA STARK’S SASS IS UNDERRATED!!!! she’s so unintentionally funny

Anon, I am pretty sure it's intentional. ^_^

Sansa is dang charming and funny when she's allowed to be.

The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. "Ofttimes Ser Ilyn frightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect." "As well he should." The queen had descended from the wheelhouse. The spectators parted to make way for her. "If the wicked do not fear the King's Justice, you have put the wrong man in the office." Sansa finally found her words. "Then surely you have chosen the right one, Your Grace," she said, and a gale of laughter erupted all around her. "Well spoken, child," said the old man in white. "As befits the daughter of Eddard Stark. I am honored to know you, however irregular the manner of our meeting. I am Ser Barristan Selmy, of the Kingsguard." He bowed. (AGOT, Sansa I)

This isn't quite as hilarious at first glance, but she's very much working her audience here, to great effect.

Of course, she rarely has the opportunity to openly speak at all, let alone with sass, so a lot of her snark happens internally.

One of my favorite unspoken lines is this:

The king leafed through it with no interest. "And what is this, Uncle?" A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read. (ASOS, Sansa IV)

The classic:

"They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest," she said recklessly. "Though he's older than Your Grace, to be sure. A man grown." (ACOK, Sansa V)

I'm sure there are many that escape me right now.

But yeah, the TWOW sample chapter is pure gold in terms of watching Sansa be closer to her carefree self. Excitedly overseeing preparations, running and gossiping with a friend, free to bite back for once, free to let her thoughts indulge silly details or observations that don't specifically serve to protect her from harm.

Alayne loved it here. She felt alive again, for the first since her father… since Lord Eddard Stark had died. [...]

Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, "Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms." It might have been a sweeter courtesy had he not addressed it to her chest. "And have you seen all those maids yourself, ser?" Alayne asked him. "You are young to be so widely travelled." [...]

Myranda rolled her eyes. "They're from the Sisters. Did you ever know a Sisterman who could joust? They clean their swords with codfish oil and wash in tubs of cold seawater." "Well," Alayne said, "at least they're clean." "Some of them have webs between their toes. I'd sooner marry Lord Petyr.  [...] She danced with all three Sunderlands, none of whom had webs between their fingers, though she could not vouch for their toes. [...]

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. [....]

"And is Ser Harrold with them?" Horrible Ser Harrold. "He is." [...]

Ser Harrold had the grace to blush. "Her father says she is more precious to him than gold. He's rich, the richest man in Gulltown. A fortune in spices." "What will you name the babe?" she asked. "Cinnamon if she's a girl? Cloves if he's a boy?" That almost made him stumble. "My lady japes." "Oh, no." Petyr will howl when I tell him what I said.

Alayne is the Sansa that she could have been all this time, the girl who liked to giggle and be silly with Jeyne Poole, had no great issue holding her own in conversation, who drew pleasure and energy from the world around her.

I mean, we know she is playing a role and based Alayne partially on Jon Snow... but that girl there is not a terse and moody grump. She's not even a lean shadow laughingly racing to the bridge with his brother. She is a highborn lord's daughter, inhabiting the center of attention with confidence like she was born to it. Like Sansa.

[stevie-petey]

Hear me out, Steve trying to win over mama Henderson. A blurb of Steve being a major kiss ass in every way possible. He earns quite a few brownie points and learns way too much neighborhood gossip. Just imagine bug coming home to Steve and her mom gossiping on the couch tews in his lap.

steve: i must make everyone like me

hes so real for that

enjoy !

"so, how do we really feel about jonathan?" steve has tews in his lap, so hes careful not to startle the young kitten as he leans in close to mrs henderson to whisper about the boy who has a bean bag dedicated to him in her daughters room.

claudia rests a hand against her chest and sighs deeply. she looks around, as if scared someone will overhear, before she leans over to whisper. "can i be honest?"

"always, mrs. henderson."

"i adore that boy. why, i even had a whole wedding planned for him and my y/n, but... well, youre just so handsome!"

steve gasps and places a hand over his chest as well, deeply happy with how this conversation is turning out. "mrs. henderson, youre a beautiful woman with wonderful children. this, well, its an honor that you think so highly of me."

claudia giggles, and steve winks at her. it's quiet for a few seconds as the two of them enjoy the smile on their faces. tews is purring steves lap and youre not home yet from picking dustin up from jonathans. he hadnt meant to be alone with your mom, claudia insisted he come in when he arrived and shoved a kitten into his arms and now hes here.

gossiping about jonathan byers as claudia henderson gushes over steve.

tews lets out a yawn and stretches lazily on top of steves lap. claudia watches fondly and coos at her cat. "i havent seen tews this comfortable around a stranger!"

"animals like me," steve shrugs. "plus, i think shes just happy i cleaned her litter box."

"i told you that there wasnt any need-"

"i wanted to help, mrs. henderson." steve reassures her for the millionth time. in this instance, he can see how much you resemble your mother. both of you too kind to ask for help.

claudia tauts at steve and shakes her head. she knows what hes doing, she saw jonathan do it for the five years he spent his childhood within her home.

claudia henderson knows what a boy looks like when hes in love with her daughter.

steve goes back to gently petting tews' head and claudia sighs. she knows she shouldnt intervene, but youre her baby girl and steve seems like such a wonderful boy.

the mother smiles softly at the teen sitting across from her. "jonathan is a lovely boy, ive watched him grow up and bring my y/n back to life after everything that happened when she was young, but i havent seen my daughter glow quite as much as she does when shes around you."

claudias eyes never stray from steve. he doesnt look up at her, but she knows hes heard what shes said by the way his breath catches, ever so slightly. she doesnt want to push him, but she can sense that hes a hurt boy who has been drawn in by your endless kindness. taking a breath, she says, "im happy my daughter has you, steve."

steves breath catches again and he coughs, trying to clear his throat of the shock he feels at your mothers words. in his startle, tews jumps out of his lap and returns to claudia, sending him a disgruntled glare as she settles herself into the womans lap.

"yeah, well." steve coughs again, eyes looking everywhere but at claudia. "im happy i have y/n, too."

claudia claps her hands, satisfied with his response. "good! now, dusty tells me your family is rich?"

a loud and unexpected laugh escapes steves mouth and his head spins at his bizarre the situation is. claudia snickers, pleased with herself, and steve once again sees so much of you in the woman. "dusty would be correct."

"even better!"

neither are sure how much time passes, but eventually their conversation transitions from a weird heart to heart to gossip about the neighborhood. before you arrive home, steve learns about the creepy neighbor down the street named dave, about the couple next door who just had a baby named penelope, and about the dog a few blocks down that once chased you when you were younger.

"the dog chased her halfway across hawkins! i swear, its why that girl now likes that insane hobby of hers." claudia huffs, stroking tews' head once more.

"she likes to run?" steve asks, amazed that he still has so much to learn about you.

"who likes to run?" you ask, stepping through the front door with dustin behind you. when you see steve sitting on your couch across from your mother, your shoulders drop. "oh, no. is my mom telling you more embarrassing stories about me?"

dustins shoulder knocks against yours as he walks inside. "did my mom tell you about the time y/n peed the bed last year?"

steves eyes widen and you jump on top of your brother, strangling him. "shut up!"

you wack at your brothers head and manage to bring him to his knees as you wrestle on the ground. dustin screeches and tries to claw you off of him, but youre still slightly bigger (though he keeps growing more and more every day). its a tangle of limbs and screams.

claudia and steve watch from the couch, both of them smiling fondly at the sight of the two siblings strangling one another.

"precious kids, mrs. henderson." the teen winks again at claudia, and she laughs.

[saetgvia]

spark | wriothesley

in which you and wriothesley find an unlikely spark.

CHAPTER ONE: A NOT SO MEET-CUTE

prince!wrio x fem!noble!reader, invented country au

✧ genre: fluff, angst...? maybe...? if you squint...?, arranged marriage trope

✧ tw: none, if you see any lmk <3

✧ word count: 1.32K

✧ playlist: spark - taeyeon, radio - lana del rey, deja vu - txt, darl+ing - seventeen, invu - taeyeon, agora hills - doja cat, killin' me good - jihyo, i like you (a happier song) - doja cat & post malone, fever - enhypen, eleven - ive, hype boy - newjeans, hard to love - rose, sour grapes - le sserafim, oh my god - adele, my head & my heart - ava max, nonsense - sabrina carpenter, the feels - twice

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i. a not so meet-cute

'what.' you stare in disbelief at your parents. 'there's no way. NO. WAY.' arranged marriages only happen in books. of course you'd heard of them in your country of azura, some distant cousin being married to some lord or other for alliances or whatever, but you'd always been free to do what you wanted, marry who you chose. your parents never put any restrictions on you, but this out of the blue is so- 'unexpected! what? i thought-' 'circumstances change.' your father replies shortly. 'i- you- you can't do this!' you cry, becoming more and more panicked. you wanted to fall in love, marry someone you chose! and now, you were going to be pawned off to someone you didn't even know. wait...

'can you at least tell me who i'm being given away to?' 'you're not being given away-' 'oh mom, it's fine. i know how this works. so, who is it?'

wriothesley. the prince of emeia. a name that struck fear into your very soul. not because he was a terrible ruler or a womaniser. he was, in fact, the complete opposite. you'd heard tales from all over the kingdom in the form of gossiping ladies giggling behind fans, sipping their tea and gushing to your mother. she, in turn, laughed daintily, and turned to you with a pointed look. how could she even know? his parents kept him hidden away from the world, their precious son too perfect for mere commoners. no, you were afraid because you didn't know him. because he seemed too good to be true. and most of all, because he was about to become your life. you should have seen this coming.

'i won't go.'

your father's eyes narrow, and you can see his neatly trimmed beard bristling in anger. you've never seen him like this before, and over something as silly as an arranged marriage? your mother puts a placating arm on his bicep, and he shoots her a look, both of them communicating through their gaze. finally, he exhales, evidently trying to calm himself, and speaks.

'we... we're in debt. remember that deal with ceria? the cherry liqueur? they've been selling it for exorbitant prices without giving us any of the profits, and we've been depending on that to get us out of last winter's snowstorms. emeia noticed us struggling and have so kindly offered to refill our coffers in exchange for your hand.' there's a hint of annoyance in his tone, and you begin to understand just how much this is weighing on him. but still, how can you throw your life away like that?

'i'll think about it.'

⭑⭑⭑

'but i don't WANT to!' you shriek into your pillow, kicking your feet in true spoiled girl fashion. your maid, or rather, your friend, giselle, winces, and tries to comfort you.

'hey, maybe it won't be so bad! everyone says he's a sweetheart!'

'but everyone ISN'T BEING MARRIED OFF TO HIM!'

'think about your parents, hon! you can always divorce him later, run away, fake your own death-'

she breaks off at your deadpan gaze, and starts to giggle, until you start to giggle, and you're both in your bed cackling uncontrollably. you wipe tears of mirth from your eyes, and look at giselle over the rumpled sheets, her eyes twinkling, and you wish there were more people like her in the world. sitting up, you clasp her hands between yours, and trace the lines on her weathered palm. you exhale, and make up your mind. you have to marry wriothesley.

'giselle... i'll marry wriothesley. but only if you come with me.'

⭑⭑⭑

'woah woah woAH-' you cry as you stumble. your beautiful, floor-length cherry-red dress, so stunning to look at when you were standing in one place, was nothing but a nuisance when you were walking. for comfort, you'd opted for soft velvet flats instead of the heels sent for you; you could see the flaws in this decision now. but instead of breaking your nose, you're met with shoes. shiny leather shoes, buckled with silver, and a pair of strong - warm - arms gripping your own. slowly raising your head, your eyes land on a beautiful face. chiseled jawline, chiseled nose, chiseled forehead, somehow his neck is also chiseled. but his lips, so plump and pink and soft, and his eyes, like chips of blue ice, hold a twinkle of mirth.

'woah there, careful. wouldn't want you to get hurt.'

his voice is honey, smooth and sweet, and it washes over your ears. you can't stop staring, enthralled by his gaze.

'cat got your tongue?'

you snap out of your daze, realising you're still half on the mysterious stranger, and stumble backwards. you brush your hands over your dress, the gold embroidery rough under your fingers.

'sorry. i uh- i have to go.'

you picked up your skirts and hurried back towards the throne room. you didn't think you could get so lost trying to go to the bathroom! stopping before a mirror adorning the wall, you take a quick look at your appearance. the crimson dress fit your figure wonderfully, golden embroidery curling up the sides and front of your dress, forming a pattern of flames that ended just below your neckline. your hair, so lustrous and thick, had managed to escape its tight bindings, so you gasp heavily as you catch your breath and tie your hair up at the same time, the ribbon cherry-red to match your dress. adjusting yourself one final time, you nod to the guards outside to open the door for you, and walk into the throne room.

you're once again taken by surprise at the grandness of it all. absolutely everything inside is scarlet, a stark contrast to the cool blue drapes of azura. you'd always found it funny how blue was your dukedom's colour and yet your primary export was cherries, something so very opposite. the floor, carpeted in lush red and cream formed a pathway up to the raised thrones, all three of them cushioned by velvet and adorned with gold scrollwork and filigree. behind the thrones and all around, rich tapestries decorate the walls, vermilion depictions of the kingdom's greatest victories. you weren't sure if they were there to celebrate or intimidate. maybe both. a big, booming laugh reaches your ears, and your gaze is drawn to the antechamber towards the back of the room. ah, so that's where they've gone to. you scurry towards the chamber, nodding with as much regal-ness as you could muster towards the servants who caught your eye and sank into a deep curtsy or bow. straightening your dress, again, out of habit, you step into the room.

your parents are laughing, your father releasing his great guffaw and your mother tittering behind her gloved hand. the king of emeia, a warm, welcoming person with greying ebony hair and soft blue eyes was telling some kind of story, while his wife, the queen, sat, watching the scene with adoration and satisfaction. the queen noticed you first, her brown eyes crinkling into a sweet smile as she noticed you.

'oh there you are! we were wondering where you'd gone.'

'sorry... i got a little lost.' you take your seat on another velvet sofa, picking up your cup of tea. the servants appeared to have brought more plates of food in, the table once again covered in delicate china piled high with macarons and pastries and little sandwiches cut into perfect triangles. you pick up one of the treats, a golden swirl of pastry with colourful fruit peeking out, and bite into it. it's heavenly, deliciously flaky and sweet on your tongue. you pick it up and munch happily on it again.

'ah, here he is. wrio! here is the girl we wish for you to marry.'

you choke. because when you look up, you see the same chiseled features, the same lips, the same eyes and the same smile.

'THAT'S wriothesley?'

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from saetgvia: i have never started writing a fic so fast oh my god??? very excited for this fic and i hope you are too <3 stay tuned will have part 2 coming out soon!

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please like and reblog my work! tumblr relies on reblogs to function, so help my work be seen by more people <3 my spark taglist and overall is now open, drop an ask if you want to be added! just specify which one.

© saetgvia 2024. do not copy or repost.

[ghostismybbygorl]

Walk of shame

Simon woke up from his slumper and peered to his right

A small body next to him breathing ever so lightly

"Right" he thought

He had a one night stand last night. Never really thought he would be the one to do the walk of shame.

Ghost gathered his clothes in a heaping pile by the girls bed. He picked up his phone

5am

"Fuckin hell" he sighed quietly opening the uber app

"Johnnys never going to let me down on this one" he thought placing a uber.

He quickly gathered the rest of his stuff put his trainers on and headed out the door

He nearly slipped on the ice that formed on the porch of the house. The air was cold, crisp even. Luckily ghost had a medical mask and his hoodie to keep him warm while he waits.

"Cant believe im doing a walk of shame" he muttered to himself

He flipped open his messages to see if anyone texted him when he left with the girl

30 messages

"Fuckin hell" he sighed

1HOE1 bitches (soap and y/n came up with the ridiculously stupid name)

Gaz🦌: yo yall seen ghost?

Y/n👹: he wasnt w me and soap

Foap🧼: last time i check he was flirtin w a cute lass

Y/n👹: bastards probably doing the walk of shame tonight boys 😈

Foap🧼: @ghost

Y/n👹:

Gaz🦌: you are terrible people

Y/n👹: thank you bestie 😚💅🏼

Foap🧼: gon be si when he gets to our place

Y/n👹: 😂😂😂😂

Simon locked his phone sighing once more dreading the conversations that will erupt when he gets to soap and y/n's apartment.

The ride to his car was quiet. Simon decided to get some shut eye before driving back to the apartment.

Driving home was a breeze he had the heat blazing and he had his music set to his and y/n's shared playlist which was a bunch of mellow indie music; good for a quiet ride home.

He pulled into the parking lot and started walking up the stairs when he heard his name being called. "Who the fuck is calling my name?" He thought glancing over his shoulder to see y/n skipping towards him in a giddy mood. It was obvious they where doing a walk of shame as well.

"Have fun?" They asked linking their arms with his

"Could ask you the same" simon replied

Y/n grinned at him he gave a soft chuckle guiding both of them to the apartment

Y/n unlocked the door and saw that the dead bolt was on

"Fucking johnny" y/n said taking one of their sneakers off

"We could just knock" simon said

"Nah i got it" y/n replied unlacing their shoe and taking the shoelace out if it

Y/n quickly wrapped the shoelace around the deadbolt closed the door and pulled really hard with the sound of a click after. Y/n smiled and opened the door

"After you kind sir" they said tipping a imaginary hat

Simon shook his head and headed inside. Gaz was knocked out on the couch. He was curled up in a ball cuddling the small black cat that y/n adopted.

"Awwwww" y/n cooed taking a picture of them "this is going in the new years video." Y/n looked at simon

"hey, yon can sleep in my bed if youd like im gonna pass out in johnnys room plus ive got hot gossip about the person i fucked" they said with a wink then proceeded to trot down to johnnys room and opened the door gently

"Bestie ive got tea get your ass up" they said

Simon heard a loud flop and a groan coming from soap

"Its 6 in tha fuckin mornin y/n let me sleep!" Soap yelled. Y/n closed the door and all simon could hear was the giggling from y/n and soap grumbling from his wake.

Simon let out a sigh and walked to y/n room and proceeded to fall back asleep in their plushie ridden bed. Simon plucked his favorite one and fell asleep cuddling it.

"What a fuckin night" he sighed into the plushy eyes slowly closing drifting off into peaceful slumber

-------------------------------------

Hehe hope yall liked this

Kinda did a walk if shame this morning and made this fic in the uber home lol

[pacifymebby]

Can you do a Peaky Blinders hc with a spooky, gothic reader? If you're taking requests :)

I received this ask so long ago (when i was binge watching Wednesday) and ive been proper looking forward to it so i hope i dont disappoint!!

Tommy

🌿Theres a lot of rumours that fly around town about you. You're infamous in Small Heath.. People say you're a witch, they say you can speak with the dead... Some people even say you are one of the dead...

🌿But Tommy doesn't believe a word of it... To him you're just any other woman...

🌿 At first he thinks you dress like that, walk around town with your dark smudged makeup and your gloomy expression to try and intimidate people... He thinks you're putting on airs

🌿And he's determined to suss you out, break through your shell and find out all about the "real you"

🌿 But you're also breath taking, beautiful. You have that cold, removed beauty.. You look deadly. Thats what makes you look so ghostly - its nothing to do with the colour of your skin and everything to do with the uncanny aura you possess, the way you drift down the street completely seperate from everything around you

🌿 He sees you as a misfit just like him, he isn't scared to talk to you but when you don't give him much to go off in conversation he struggles to begin with

🌿But then he grows to enjoy the silence. People do enough talking, and always about stupid inconsequential shit... No, sometimes silence is good, and he's glad he's found someone who he can just be silent with.

🌿 When you walk down the street together youre an imposing sight to behold. If there were rumours about the two of you before, they intesify now. The ghostly girl and the devil himself...

🌿People fear you both. They are superstitious about you, some old ladies make the sign of the cross when they see you.

🌿He loves it when you wear blood red, how it brings out the colour in your lips, its so striking on you, so seductive and glamorous. He's always buying you deep red velvet dresses to wear.

🌿 Often references the rumours which go around about you, just to tease you. You always have a dry smirk and a short and sweet, cutting come back when he does.

🌿Calls you his deadly nightshade, and foxglove, they start out as teasing nicknames but end up affectionate and intimate names for you.

🌿 He is obsessed with your eyes, transfixed by them, theyre so piercing and deep, if eyes are the key to ones soul yours are the murkiest most troubled of waters and Tommy would happily drown in them.

🌿 Will use the rumours about you to his advantage when it comes to trying to intimidate his enemies.

Alfie

🐻 Doesn't think he's ever seen a more gloomy girl than you, the first time he sees you you actually send a shudder down his spine not just because you're beautiful, but because your sullen expression makes it look like you're cursing everyone in present company, including him

🐻 And he can't help but wonder if you did in fact put a curse on him because you have bewitched him, body and soul, as it were. Your pretty little face haunts him and for days youre all he can think about.

🐻 He starts actually the paying attention to the gossip in the bakery, listening out for your name, wanting to know more about the mysterious, miserable looking girl he can't get off his mind

🐻 The next time he sees you he does his best to charm you, and it isnt that you don't like him, actually he's one of the only people in this god forsaken place that you do like, its that you don't really understand he likes you like that.

🐻 You're not so much as shy, more reserved and you can listen to alfie talk and talk and talk, you love listening to him talk actually, but you never want to interrupt him, so he thinks you're not interested in him at all

🐻 Which means he tries even harder to impress you, he wants to do things you'll enjoy so he takes you on walks to the cemetary and tells you stories about the people the graves belong to. Some of them are real stories some of them, you're not so sure.

🐻 The way you never express an emotion until someone really gives you a good reason to, it makes him try ten times harder to impress you when he's telling his stories or putting on his own airs. He hasn't had to act up this much for someone in so long and he loves it. Your dramatic appearance and aesthetic really plays well with his dramatic aura and way of speaking. All his theatrical mannerisms compliment your dramatic style.

🐻 He comes up with all sorts of off the cuff nicknames for you, "and how is my little rain cloud on this dismal morning?" "my sweet dahlia," "my little inferno," "my dusky nymph," they get more dramatic every time.

🐻 He enjoys trying to coax a smile out of you, you're so mysterious and for awhile all he wants to do is get under your skin, get to know you better than anyone else can. He's captivated by you and wants to know all your secrets

🐻 You're his muse during his Opera Era.

🐻 He absolutely loves the shock effect when he walks into a room or down the street with his gothic princess on his arm. The way he can feel all eyes on the two of you, how he knows everyone's a little bit more fearful when they see you, the witchy girl with all those mysteries and secrets.

🐻 He will ask you to tell him spooky stories when youre both settling down to go to sleeo, he likes to have you curled up in his arms, drawing patterns on his chest whilst you tell him stories about ghosts and vampires.

🐻 Until you actually do manage to spook him and he has to cut you off, pretending to be a big strong man who isn't scared "enough now my little black cloud, its getting late, sleep!"

🐻 Enjoys buying you lots of gothic jewelery, seeing you adorned in the black pearls and obsidian he gifts to you.

🐻 Does worry about you, hopes youre not really as sad as you seem, hopes that most of that gloom and seriousness is just an act, an aesthetic, worries he can't make you happy.

🐻 Finds your dry, sarcastic sense of humour very entertaining, how deadpan everything you say it. How most of the time people are never quite sure whether to laugh at your joke or not. He also adores how cutting you can be when you want to be, the insults shoot like daggers from your tongue so casually that whoevers on the recieving end never knows how to respond.

Arthur

🍂 Actually believes youre a ghost for far too long. The first time he sees you, his brothers observe how shocked he is, they recognise the fear/uncertainty in his eyes and they know they can take the piss.

🍂 "You alright there Arthur you look like you've seen a ghost?" tommy and John sniggering when Arthur nods in your direction, asks who you are, only to be met with his brothers frowns. "Who're you lookin at brother? All I sees Uncle Charlie..." "She's right there next to em..." "Think the drinks gone to your head Arthur..."

🍂 So he's actually terrified of you, every time he sees you he thinks he's going a little bit mad. Until one day youre talking to Polly and he comes rushing to his Aunts side all "Pol, Polly thank god," when she turns to him with a confused look in her eyes he whispers "you can see her too Im not going mad..." Polly laughs at him, "fuckin hell arthur of course i can fuckin see her shes standing right there..."

🍂 You're actually relieved to find out that the older mans apparent dislike of you (he always left the room when you entered, always looked at you with an abject horror in his eyes) is quite simply the result of a rather amusing trick thats been played on him

🍂 Polly leaves the pair of you alone together, recognising Arthurs sudden shyness, and when youre alone with him he smirks sheepishly and admits, "Well am glad youre not dead or a ghost or somet..." "I wouldn't mind being a ghost..." "I didn't mean anythin by it am sure you'd make a lovely ghost..."

🍂 Arthur gets quite flustered and trips over his sentences a lot when hes talking to you, because the fact that you don't give much away makes him nervous. You have an intimidating aura, and the fact that you're the most beautiful woman hes ever seen... He never knows how to act or whether he's managing to win you over or not.

🍂 You really confuse him sometimes, the way you arent disturbed by blood or fighting, the way the violence and bleak dark underside of the work him and his brothers do doesnt seem to shock you at all.

🍂 It frustrates him the way you like to go on walks in the rain until youre freezing and soaked to the bone, or the way that if you prick your finger or accidentally bite your lip to hard and draw blood, you'll stop to admire the blood instead of rushing to help yourself.

🍂 Can't decide whether he likes the fact that nothing intimidates you or not. On the one hand he adores your sharp wit, on the other hand he knows its going to get you into trouble one day.

John

🌼 I can't even begin to explain how desperate to make you smile this man is, he sees it as a challenge, a competition even.

🌼 Actually it is a competition between him and his brothers, theyve all been playing this game - who can make the mysterious, miserable girl smile first - John is determined to win

🌼 But not just to get a one up on his brothers, its because he genuinely does want to make you smile... Youre so dazzlingly pretty anyway, your piercing gaze, the downward pout of your lips, that gloomy faraway look you always have about you... Hes so drawn to you

🌼 Its a real opposites attract situation, hes always been known for his lighthearted playful, laidback ways, whereas your reputation around the city is one of despair, sorrow, misery.

🌼 Hes thinks you're beautiful, your mysterious, striking appearance, the way a shadow seems to hang over you at all times.

🌼 At first you dismiss every move he makes, shooting him down with dry cutting remarks but John is only made more determined by these rebuttals. And the more he tries with you the more he chips away at that steely exterior.

🌼 His nickname for you is Sunshine, he finds it very funny and feels like hes being very clever. He means them all affectionately though.

🌼 Is extra silly trying to make you laugh and when he finally succeeds hes so smug and proud of himself, you have to admit it is actually kind of adorable.

🌼 Finds all of the rumours which go round about you incredibly amusing, definitely gets defensive of you though, how dare people make out like youre a witch, youre his girl, no one gets away with calling his girl a witch, or saying discriminatory things like "be careful she'll put a gypsy curse on you" John will straight up fight anyone he hears saying anything like that about you... Even if in private the two of you make jokes like that all the time.

🌼 Hes the only person who can make you laugh and smile and hes incredibly proud of that fact. No one believes him when he tells them that you smile for him though which is infuriating for him.

🌼 At first he's incredibly unnerved by the fact that you're not bothered about blood or violence at all. When he comes home to the Garrison one evening all bloodied up from a fight you don't even bat an eye, you just come to him, study his wounds and say very matter of factly, "You're going to need stitches but i guess i can manage that."

🌼 He never quite gets used to it though and hes not sure how to feel about the fact that you never seem phased about anything. He's quite an emotional man and the fact that he never sees you get scared confuses him, he knows men are sposed to hide that shit but women are meant to be softer, so why aren't you.

🌼 Over time he comes to realise that you do feel fear and you do worry about him when he's been through the wars, you just don't see the point in fussing when it's wasting time which could be spent helping him. And the closer the two of you get the more open to showing him your feelings you are. You don't like crying in front of people but you have done in front of him and hes always been there to hold you and comfort you and let you know its alright.

Bonnie

🍀At first people are confused as to why the sunny, cheeky, seemingly optimistic boy is so taken in by you, but to him and to you, its clear what you have in common. The two of you both have a dark side, perhaps you express them differently but they are there. You wear your darkness on your sleeve, dark eyes, dark hair, permanent sullen expression, you're pretty but you look so sad all of the time. Around the camp youre known as the Grey Girl, because you seem so gloomy and ghostly all of the time

🍀 There are rumours about you that say you're half dead, that you only have half a soul, that you can see and speak to the dead. None of its true but youd be lying if you said you didn't like playing up to it.

🍀Bonnies darkness is in his determination and his honest view of the world. He's seen and done evil things and he doesnt really believe the world to be a good place, he admires your honesty, the way you dont feel the need to hide your gloom.

🍀 And he feels a persistent connection with you, he just knows he understands you completely and thats why he wants to get closer to you, to show you that you're not alone in this world, that hes right there with you, that he knows what its like.

🍀 Growing up in close proximity to one another, he never really had to try and "get to know you" as such, because he's known you since you were born, but he did have to try and get close to you, especially as you got older and began to isolate yourself more and more.

🍀He was the only lad to keep talking to you when you got "spooky" as the other kids called it, and hes the only person you ever really enjoy spending your time with. Nobody can understand how you tolerate him, when you don't seem to be able to tolerate anyone else, but you warm to him, rather than being like a warm summers day, he's like the little beam of moonlight cutting through the rain in the middle of the night. He makes the whole gloomy world softer and easier to bare.

🍀 He loves holding your hands, they're always freezing so he's always making a show of trying to rub them warm.

🍀 Hes very defensive of you because he believes youre misunderstood. He doesnt like the way some people laugh at you and he's definitely clipped a number of the younger lads around the ear when theyve made some joke about you talking to the dead.

🍀 Futher to that he's definitely gotten into whole fights with outsiders who have said things about you being a witch, men who have cat called you, been met with a sharp response from you and then said, "ooo whatre you gonna do about girl? Put one of your gypsy curses on me?" they think they're funny until their nose comes into contact with Bonnies fist.

🍀Every time you tell him he shouldn't, you are so determined to look after yourself, and every time he just shrugs and smiles and says that he likes fighting for you. Reminding you again that you aren't alone.

🍀 He calls you Trouble, or Little Rook when he's feeling cute.

🍀 Has definitely let you smudge black eyeliner beneath his eyes once or twice, it makes you laugh which is a rarity.

🍀 You look so striking when youre sitting among the drunken rabble who come to watch his fights. You dressed in all black, your ghostly aura, your fixed and intense gaze piercing, locked on him. You have this stubborn determination about you when you watch him and people have often accused you of "fixing" the match yourself, putting a spell on Bonnies competition to make them weak.

🍀 Bonnie gets annoyed when people make those accusations, he gets stubborn and defensive about it because a) "they only say it cause we're gypsies!" b) "And she isnt a fucking witch, its disrespectful" and c) "I don't need a fuckin spell to beat these soft lads in a fuckin fight, am Bonnie fuckin Gold arent i..."

🍀 On these occasions you're the only person who can really calm him down or settle him. Your quiet, calm, dry and cutting sense of humour the only thing that can put a smile on his face and stop him killing someone.

🍀 Your favourite thing to do is ride horseback with him across the moores in the mist, those gloomy gothic landscapes are perfect to you. You like being alone with him in the fog, feeling like youre the only living boy and girl in the world.

Isaiah

🐀Honestly he definitely thinks youre killer hot, your elegant dark clothes, the lace you often wear. The way you do your make up dark and smokey around the eyes. All he wants to do when he sees you, is take you somewhere dark and shadowy to do dark deeds with you

🐀 He definitely tries to flirt by teasing you, definitely made the mistake of using the phrase "cheer up love, it might never happen," the first time he met you, to which he was met with the iciest glare and the most cutting "that would be a shame."

🐀He is a little like John in that all the nicknames he chooses for you are overly affectionate and sweet on purpose just to embarrass you. He likes "sunshine" "princess" "sweetie pie" best because whenever he uses those names for you the glare you fix him with is so cold and sharp. It both amuses and attracts him.

🐀Really really enjoys watching you cut down other people with your sharp remarks, kind of likes the fact that you dont need looking after. You can stand up for yourself and he really admires that about you.

🐀Buys you lots of pretty black and red jewlery.

🐀Honestly hes the one spreading rumours about you, he finds it funny to put the fear of god into the men down the Garrison telling them all about his girlfriend who has definitely murdered men before.

🐀 Still, if other men cross a line, Isaiah might be the one that kills them. He can say whatever he likes about his girl but if any one else crosses a line then theyre for it.

🐀 Once Tommy gave him the job of disposing of a dead body and you asked to see it (morbid curiosity) and his first response was to get really angry at you, because why the fuck would you want to see that?! When your response was to simply shrug your shoulders all "fair enough i was just curious," he softens a bit, hes unnerved because you dont seem to give a shit either way and hes confused by that.

🐀He doesnt let you see it though and he tells you never to ask him or any of the peaky boys that ever again.

🐀 Hes obsessed with your cold touch, loves feeling your icy fingers dance over his skin or linger on his neck/cheek. Your lips are often cold when you kiss his cheek and it gives him those good shivers.

🐀 Teasingly makes the sign of the cross whenever you enter the room just to see you roll your eyes and have you call him ridiculous.

🐀Your favourite time to go out for walks is the middle of the night and it drives him insane because its not safe "even if you look like youve just popped in from hell, its dangerous!" so he loses a lot of sleep going on walks with you during the witching hour.

🐀You have a reputation as a couple, him for being a little unpredictable and you for being predictably sharp and cutting. People know not to cross you and it often only takes one sharp look from you with your piercing gaze for someone to think twice about what they might be about to say.

Michael

☘️ You're his Raven, he's well read and he often calls you Carmilla, feme fatale, Carmen.

☘️ Buys you black petunias which look like this...

☘️ You have a really gothic looking house/garden with all these black flowers growing out the front and in the windows. People say you live in a haunted house and they warn Michael against calling on you, but Michael's mother is Polly Gray so he isnt scared of ghosts. He doesnt believe in them.

☘️ You wear so much velvet and he cant keep his hands off you, he loves smoothing his hands over your waist, feeling the soften off your dress and the curve of your body.

☘️ "That girls not to be trusted Michael, she's so clearly put a spell on you..." "Maybe she has," he shrugs smirks and ends any conversation which brings you into suspicion like that

☘️ Secretly enjoys the fact that people are a little bit scared of his girl, he likes the fact hes seeing a dangerous woman, it makes you a dangerous couple. More than that though, he likes the fact he doesnt have to worry too much about competition. Most men are scared of you afterall. It makes him feel powerful that he's managed to win you.

☘️ He won't take you seriously when you say spooky things or whatever, whenever you try to use your witchy reputation to prove yourself to Michael he just chuckles and tells you to settle down, he's stubborn about it too. "Put on all the airs you like when it comes to those other men my little Raven but they won't work on me..."

☘️ He likes when you sing your gloomy, spooky little folk songs for him, or when you put on slow, eerie tunes and dance to them in that strange sensual way you do. (im thinking audrey twin peaks style) he could watch you dancing for hours, so easily transfixed by you.

☘️Your darkness and spooky reputation actually ingratiates you to tommy so michael gets more respect from tommy because of you. Tommy has a real soft spot for you though and michael often gets jealous, worried that if tommy ever decides to get too close you wont be able to resist the older mans darkness.

[jadeittic]

HS + Y/I: 2022 (SERIES)

EXTRA (6) (REMAKE) -- ive been procrastinating a lot this yr so i guess we're back on track with hs + y/i

PREVIOUS. NEXT.

HARRY STYLES + PLATONIC!EX-1D MEMBER!FEM!READER

WARNINGS: are ig comments even warnings anymore 😭-- and there will be new uses of face claims.

celebnews

liked by username, and 12,348 others

celebnews YN LN spotted in Glasgow, UK for upcoming first collaboration tour with Harry Styles.

view all 1,754 comments

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yourinstagram

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yourinstagram pov: im so fucking nervous i can barely stand still so heres a pic

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tchalamet YOU GOT THIS GIRLIE

username IM SO SAD I JSUT LEFT GLASGOW 😭

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iheartynrry

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username WHEN SHE TOOK OFF HER JACKET I ALMOST FELL ON THE FLOOR

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harryxyn

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harryxyn no explanations needed. just tears

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username FOR FUCKING REAL. I COULDNT STOP BAWLING MY EYES OUT

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harrystyles

liked by vicdeangelis, yourinstagram, letitawright, and 4,902,514 others

harrystyles I am so proud of my girl who I call a sister from another mister. She doesn’t have any idea how much she means to me. You are loved, YN LN. (By me which who loves you the most.) You deserve the world. Thank you for being there always. It’s always us against the world.

HS + Y/I. Glasgow. June, 2022.

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username WHAT WHATE ANZTDGSHJSHDHEHE

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yourinstagram

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yourinstagram should i even explain? this idiot has been with me for as long as i remember. god, i can’t even remember when i agreed to go on tour with him (kidding, kidding). you are the most talented, funniest, hell, i even have to say handsome person to feed your ego. you are one of the best people to have happened in my life. it’s always us against the world.

thank you glasgow for being our first ever crowd for hs + y/i — its great to be back again! ❤

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mitchrowland

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mitchrowland Don’t be fooled by the internet, kids. These two have been searching up ways to steal my guitar without me noticing for the past hour.

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harrystyles

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harrystyles Girls can kiss now.

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[princesssmars]

Hey can you make a monet de haan smut from gossip girl maybe a monet x fem reader and like monet gives reader a lot of gifts and then then smut

everything she wants

a monet de haan x reader

it's your birthday, and monet decides to make it extra special for you.

wc : 2.375

contains : fluff, most likely badly first-time written smut for someone who reads it all day. if ur cringing reading it im cringing writing it we'll suffer together <3 so yes fxf smut, oral with reader receiving.

a/n : ive never written like. actual smut so if this is bad im so sorry but thanks for the request lets do this gays. if savannah or the cast see my fics ill eat a battery.

.

when it came to you, monet was infatuated. she wouldn't say it out loud, minus the times some idiotic man thought he had a chance and tried to flirt with you, but everyone could tell.

.

.

they saw it in the way she defended you like her life depended on it, in the way she look at you when talking like you hung the moon and stars in the sky. she was the queen of constance and you were her consort.

so when the day of your birthday rolls around, you should have known she wouldn't hold back.

your day starts with the sweetest good morning text youve ever seen, sent to you from your one and only. monet wasnt one to show her affection through pretty words, but you could tell she tried just for you and that made it pull at your heart strings even more.

after eating a lovely breakfast and a giddy ride to school, you step out of your car with a farewell to your driver before seeing nearly a quarter of the school is still outside, flocking around something parked on the street. getting closer, you almost can't believe what you're seeing.

its a pop-up version of gâterie, your favorite place to go for the best pastries. but as far as you knew they only had locations available in france, so how was there...

"i found out they were deciding to open a pop up in the city and made some calls for their grand opening to be here." monet's smooth voice in your ear pops up from beside you, sending brief shivers down your spine. she wraps an arm around your waist before leading you forward, casually showing dominance like she loved to do.

she guided you up to the pop up, pushing and shoving other students out of your way, finally getting to the front of the line and monet getting your favorite pastry and drink before you could even process it. when you looked at her she just smiled and pulled you closer in to her.

"today's your birthday which means i don't want you to worry your pretty little head about anything, m'kay? now get your stuff so we can hurry to our seats, im already sick of standing near these lowlives and if that freshman keeps staring at us it's gonna ruin my good mood," she tells you, smiling bigger when you giggle at her meanness.

monet stuck true to her word the entire duration of the school day, making sure you didnt have to stress about anything. she tried to goad you into skipping with her to the spa so you didnt have to worry about your schoolwork, but stopped when you reminded her that not everyone's parents could snap their fingers and change their grades. you were lucky she liked it when you could go toe to toe with her bitchiness.

after school ended, she quickly whisked luna and you into her car without telling you where you three were headed, but by the look on her face, you knew it was somewhere good.

the car stops and you breathe out a sigh of relief when you look out of the window and see your favorite spa that you and the girls visit regularly. this was exactly what you needed after all the stress from the drama at school.

after a simple mani-pedi and a thorough massage, you walk into the lounging area where all the guests go after their stay and see monet hurriedly whispering something into lunas ear who then nods and walks away, holding her phone up to her ear and getting into what you can tell must be a passionate conversation.

monet looks pissed off until she sees you, putting on a slightly concerning but nevertheless welcoming smile as she wraps her arms around your waist and kisses you on both of your cheeks. which she always does when shes trying to distract you from something. hm.

"what are you hiding, sweetheart?" you question, nearly giggling when she smiles at your cheesy yet cute pet name for her.

"i despise when you call me that. and its nothing, just dealing with some morons for this school project im doing." her answer comes out smoothly, but you still feel slightly suspicious. youre confused why shed make luna go outside to take care of her presumably annoying classmates, but you decided not to worry about it too much.

after the spa, monet takes you to a high end boutique youve been checking the website for religiously to see when you could book an appointment. your look of shock and happiness is all monet wanted at this moment, pretending to be nonchalant when you turned towards her.

"dont give me that look. just buy and put on something pretty, ok? hurry up."

not wasting any time, you quicky flutter over to all of the clothes you see that catch your eyes: dresses, skirts, pantsuits. its a short search until you finally find the one outfit you like most, the one thats just perfect for you.

trying it on, you leave the dressing room to see monet sitting on the stool putside the curtain hurriedly putting away her phone, bringing back that suspicion you felt earlier. you dont get the chance to ask her what she was up to before she takes your arm and spins you, thoroughly observing the outfit you picked.

"if theres one thing i love about you its definitely your great sense of style." she tells, bringing her hands to your face and staring at you with that look that makes your heart flutter. "and your personality and all that, of course."

after checking out some more stuff you brought to try on, (and maybe making out for a few minutes but thats neither here nor there, also monet insisting you keep the outfit you liked most on), you get to the register and once hearing the price go to pull out your card before you hear a beep and whip your head to see monet smiling at you and putting hers away. you dont even get to comment before she grabs your bags and leads you back to the car.

a while into the drive, monet pulls out a blindfold from her bag and turns towards you. you try not to let the not so safe for work thoughts run through your head but by monets scoff and roll of eyes you can tell your reaction gave you away. you dont bother asking what its for, knowing she wont tell you anyway. you willingly put it on.

the car rolls to a stop and you feel monets smooth hands guide you out of the car and into the mystery building. its a short walk until she lets go of you for a moment, clearly opening a larget set of doors before leading you in further.

she moves behind you, pressing her body behind yours and slowly taking the blindfold off. the room she's taken you to is nearly pitch black, save for some lights on the far walls. your eyes are just starting to adjust when the lights turn on and your hit with a chorus of "SURPRISE!"

you're almost in a state of shock as you look around you, seeing a large crowd of your family, friends, and more standing and smiling at you. taking in the rest of your surroundings, you have to nearly stop yourself from jumping up and down, seeing that the place of your surprise party is the jane hotel, one of your favorite ballroom party locations.

"i'm gonna take your silence as one of pure happiness and adoration for your girlfriend who planned all of this for you." monet whispers, moving to your side and putting her hand behind your back to lead you forward to everyone else. "go say hi to to everybody, ill catch up with you later." and before you can even get a word in julien nearly flies into your arms, squeezing you near to death and telling you "happy birthday!" over and over.

the rest of the night is great, filled with drinks and food and dancing and reminiscing over old memories. its fun and sweet, but every so often youll catch monets eye, the girl seemingly innocently smiling at you to anyone else but you can tell when shes plotting, and it fills you with a sense of excitement.

eventually, the party comes to a close, guests saying goodbye and extra "happy birthdays" for good measure. monet comes up to you, taking your hand and wordlessly leading you out of the ballroom to her car waiting outside. after a few minutes of driving you recognize that its heading to your girlfriend's home.

"do you have another surprise for me?" you ask, smiling and leaning your head on her shoulder and looking up at her. every time you look at her it almost surprises you how damn pretty she is.

"it wouldnt be a surprise if i told you what it was, now would it?" she answers, bring her hand up to move some of your hair out of your face and resting it on your cheek. "dont worry. i promise youll love it."

"i know ill love it just like everything else today. thank you, by the way. it was sweet." you remove her hand from your face and bring it to your lips, giving it a few small pecks that she tries to act like doesn't affect her but you can see right past it.

"no need to thank me. you deserved all of it and it's my job as your amazing girlfriend to make it all happen." she hugs you closer to her, settling into her car seat as you do the same.

just when you feel yourself drifting off monet tugs you from your seat and up the stairs to her home, your mind drifting in between a state of semiconsciousness when you feel your bottom hit the familar soft padding of her bed, her sigh and tugging at your shoes bringing a light smile to your face.

"soooo wheres my last surprise of the evening?" your voice is soft, perfectly content with just sitting here in this moment with her.

"well, i might have worded it wrong. less a surprise ad more of a...reward." the tone of her voice and the feeling of her hands trailing up the sides of your thighs knocks the sleep straight from your brain. your eyes slowly open and follow to hers, the warm brown staring into you so intensely it feels like she can see into your soul.

“and what exactly am I being rewarded for?” you question, the words leaving your throat in a whisper.

she moves her body closer to yours, pushing you onto the bed and hovering over you. “because you're the best…girlfriend…in the world…and I want to show you how much i care about you.” she praises you into your skin, taking breaks between words to press a line of kisses up your throat until eventually, her lips meet yours.

there was nothing better in the world than monet’s kisses when she wanted you, they were just as intense as she was, and the feeling of the both of you combined lingered on your lips for hours after.

you feel like you're on cloud nine as she moves quickly yet softly, removing both of your clothing and pushing you farther up the bed as she kisses down your body. she presses harsh ones and teasing bites on your thighs, knowing how much you loved and hated it when she teased you. she smiled to herself when you started to squirm, deciding to stop teasing and give you what you want. and the sound of a ragged gasp leaving your lips when she connects hers to your core is one of her favorite sounds in the world.

she decides not to tease you for the rest of the night and you are all the better for it. the pleasure brought from her mouth and tongue combined with the comfort of your surroundings and mental state makes it feel like this is the best head you've ever gotten. granted you feel like that every time she does this.

she does everything she knows will drive you crazy, circling her tongue around your center, pushing it inside you along with using her fingers. it's slow but manages to hit you harder than anything else possible.

"monet..please, please i need to cum, don't tease." you moan, struggling to find the words with the constant attack on your sex.

monet just hums, continuing her attack on your cunt as she rakes her hands down your thighs, enjoying as you twitch and jerk your hips. "anything you want, baby."

the next few moments pass by in what feels like the longest minute of your life. she increases the speed of her tongue pressing into you and her fingers circling your clit in such a short span it causes your orgasm to hit you like a freight train, your hips raising off the bed and crying out "monet!" and "oh god, yes!" on repeat.

she continues her actions throughout it, keeping the same pace and motions until you start to flinch away from her and push her head. she gives your clit one last hard kiss before moving up to your face, kissing both of your cheeks before giving you another heated kiss.

"when you said 'a reward' you really weren't kidding," you joke, laughing when she rolls her eyes at you. "seriously, thank you. for everything you did for me today. it means the world to me."

the genuine smile on her face warms your heart, your hand coming up to her cheek to hold her in place and admire her. you press another kiss to her lips, this one being tender and slow compared to the ones earlier.

"mmm don't thank me yet," she pulls away from the kiss and sits in your lap, smoothing her hands up and down your arms. "we still aren't finished. tonight im gonna show you how much you mean to me, over and over and over."

happy fucking birthday to you.

.

.

.

i got this ask idek when and it took me so long to finish that now the shows cancelled im actually crying. but yeah this was my first time writing smut and to be honest. dont know how yall do it. but if you read hope this didnt make you wanna throw up <3

[bloomingpresent]

Ferro Rosso Chapter IV

Pairing: Charles Leclerc/Female reader digital artist older woman

Summary: on your mids 30’s you never imagine you’d be divorce. To help with the healing process you decide to return to you first love: digital illustration. Posting videos of your art online leads you to work for Ferrari. But you never thought it’d lead you to find somebody that’s going to bring you back to trust again in love.

Warnings: NSFW! 18+, explicit sex, penetration, swearing, protected sex, REVERSE AGE GAP. Minors do not interact.

Disclaimer: This chapter is long, mainly because I wanted to lay the foundation for what's to come. Inspired by the photos of Charles in the test days in Bahrain. He looked tired and sleepy all the time. English is not my first language. All errors are mine. Enjoy!

You can find the other chapters here in my Masterlist

That last swallow of coffee felt like a bomb in your stomach.

It wasn't just what you were seeing, but also the way that made you feel. The situation had been made clear last night: "Friends who work together and have sex." You agreed to that, you accepted it. And you were upset with yourself because what you were seeing was bothering you. So basically this was your problem.

Would you do the same? Would you appear hand in hand with your partner in front of the person you are having sex with? All you knew was that you were upset, and hearing your coworkers gossip about it was not doing you any good.

You finish your breakfast as quickly as possible, trying to put on a perfect facade. You don't try to catch eyes with him either. Inside you were trying to figure out how to deal with this.

Those feelings you didn't miss at all. This was supposed to be your time, with no commitments, and no complications about love or sex.

You leave the room with all your coworkers, and out of the corner of your eye you see that he is a few feets away, but you avoid looking at him.

The road to the circuit was not long. But for you it was like a journey within yourself: "If he only wants this from me, maybe he will have it, mainly because it's what I want too. But I won't make it easy for him, I won't mix my feelings or overthink things. And if he gets tired, I'll go back to being the same as always and just focus on not having complications."

You mentally sign that agreement with yourself.

The days are intense at work. The pre-season is hard for everyone. For you because it is a new job and you are learning a lot. Charles has behaved very professionally, greeting you like everyone else on the team, and commenting on things only about work. He hasn't texted you, but you assume it's because he's actually with her now. You haven't seen his girl in the paddock. 

Once again you are reminded of the contract you signed with yourself.

You were at the coffee station in the hospitality area, making yourself a coffee.

"Hello stranger" you hear behind you. You recognize the voice right away.

"Hello Mr. Leclerc, what can I do for you?" you answer without turning around. 

Immediately he stands in front of you trying to see your face. "I don't drink coffee but  you can help me with something else." He bends down to search your eyes with his eyes.

Damn you Charles, it's not enough that he looks gorgeous, he smells fantastic too.

You smile in an attempt to hide your discomfort. "What you are doing is not right, it's not even fair" you answer with a serious gesture. If that's his game, that's what you'll play too.

His smile fades from his lips "Is there something wrong?" he asks you.

You want to scream everything at him. But you hold back "I don't approve of flirting while I'm working" you lie to him.

"Okay" he says, taking a step back "It's fair, it wouldn't be good for either of us."

"I could be fired, I don't know what consequences it might have for you," you say ironically, taking a drink of your coffee.

He notices your tone "What do you mean?"

You just keep a blank stare. "You wouldn't get fired for having an affair at work, you're the star here."

He can't keep his gaze on you "Trust me, it wouldn't be good for me either." he says as he looks down.

You just nod. Both of you look at each other in silence for a few seconds. Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. "I have to go, they're already calling me" you start  gathering your things from the table next to you.

"When are we going to see each other?" he asks, winking at you.

"I don't have any complications, Charles, if I can and feel like it, I can see you whenever I want" you answer looking for something in your folders.

"Okay, shall I text you tomorrow? After the party, the race promoter is having. Will you go?" he asks.

"Sure I'll go, we're all going." You put on a smile as a facade, he doesn't know you saw him with that girl.

Everything in the test week is work, and he is just focused on that. So during the day they only talk to each other if they have to and in a very professional way.

The following night is the reception that the race promoter offers for the teams and part of the press. It's a good opportunity to catch up with the other drivers and people from other teams.

Bahrain is hot during the day but at night it is much colder. So the reception takes place in a large room at the hotel, where everyone gets together to share some drinks, listen to some music, and chat. It doesn't matter the colors of each team.

He arrives along with his teammate Carlos, his coach, and his agent. Immediately they meet the other drivers and people from the team. The night promises to be relaxed and fun. In some requisition of his mind was that conversation from the day before. But no more than that.

After a few minutes, he sees you in the distance. Laughing with someone while holding a drink in hand.

He follows you with his eyes in the distance.

He is also enjoying the evening.

"Lovers' spat?" Carlos tells him as he stands next to him looking in your direction.

"Asshole, you can't keep your mouth shut can you, and no, we haven't fought and we aren't lovers" he answers her by taking a drink from his glass.

"Do you really think I was going to keep my mouth after how excited you were to meet her when you found out she was going to work at Ferrari?" Carlos laughs as Charles signals him to lower his voice tone. "You spent a month watching her TikTok videos and talking to me about her while we studied in the preseason". The reason Carlos knew about you was not that Charles told him, but because Charles had already seen you before you went to work at Ferrari.

Charles just rolls his eyes at what Carlos tells him "It's complicated. I'm not able to offer her anything that interests her."

"Did you guys have sex?" Carlos asks. Charles nods. "Did you like sex with her?" Carlos asks again.

"You are so annoying, mate!" Charles answers looking where you are and continues drinking from his glass.

"I'll take that as a yes," Carlos laughs. "What the hell is the problem, Charles? You like her, sex with her is good. Go get her, the rest will work out along the way, and if not, then stop seeing each other and that's it."What Carlos says makes sense, after all, he was waiting months to meet you and now that you are there, everything is simpler.

He keeps looking for you with his eyes until you see him. Smiling at you and toasting the air with you in the distance. 

You just smile. 

After a while, you're chatting with Esteban Ocon, you've had almost no alcohol. So you're in all your senses.

Esteban, it’s a fun guy, he doesn't drink alcohol, but he's the center of the group you're chatting with. You realize that someone stands next to you while everyone is laughing.

"Charles, my friend, I haven't seen you these days!" Esteban approaches him to greet him with a handshake and a friendly hug. You don't even look in his direction, You just stand there. 

Charles greets everyone kindly and joins the conversation. An occasional brush of the forearm, a smile. It's all his interactions.

It is already a little late, everyone begins to retire to their rooms. You say goodbye to everyone, including Charles. You walk towards the exit of the room, it is dimly lit. You get to the elevator door and wait. You don't think about him trying anything with you tonight. Not if he’s with someone else.

When the elevator door opens, Charles appears out of nowhere next to you. "Can I accompany you friend?" he tells you, biting his lower lip.

You take a breath when you see him there "Yes, maybe I might get lost" you answer.

Both enter the elevator. You press the floor you are going to, and you turn your face towards him, and he is standing behind you "What floor are you going to?" you ask him.

He takes your hand and turns you towards him "I'm coming with you" he tells you and begins to kiss your lips. 

You can't help but lose yourself in his kiss. You kiss him openly. Hands all over each other’s bodies. The hot breath in each other’s mouths as you kiss without restraint. He pushes you against the elevator wall, kissing and biting your neck. He runs his tongue over where he had bitten you before, and you moan. You really want this.

"I want you," he tells you out of breath.

"Charles I want you too" you no longer think about anything. More than feeling his hands on your body again.

He mutters something in French that you don't understand. The elevator door opens on the floor of your room, before stepping out, you check that there is no one in the hallway. Both of you get to your door. "Aren't you going to get in trouble for not making it to your room tonight?" you tell him while you look for the card key in your bag.

"Don’t worry about it" he whispers into your ear from behind while his hands run all along your tights "I need this", his hands now grab your ass and give it a squeeze,  as you try to open the door. 

You enter the room staggering and trying to remove their clothes. Laughter and groans are mixed.

You feel strange at the feeling of familiarity that Charles's body causes you. Is it the sexual chemistry that both have? All you know is that you want to unleash all those emotions that being around him every day provokes in you and that you can't express freely.

"I've missed these lips," he says, kissing and biting you.

You unbutton his pants enjoying his kisses "Just my lips?" you ask, dropping his pants to the ground.

He throws the pants aside, grabs your forearm, he turns you around, and bends you down putting your hands on the bed. Your ass is at his mercy. "This ass..." he says, touching and caressing you, his pelvis in contact with your ass. "These breasts..." he says, leaning down, his mouth on your ear and his hands squeezing your breast through the fabric of your clothing. His groin rubbing against your ass.

"Mmm, that feels delicious" you throw your head back as you lean against him enjoying the feeling of his hard cock on your ass.

He moves away. "Take off your clothes" he orders you stepping back and watching you.

You get up and start to take off your shirt, you can feel his gaze. Then you take off your pants, sliding them down, giving him a glorious view of your ass from behind. Knowing that he is watching you is exciting for you.

Charles's pupils dilate in ecstasy. You are a vision to him.

You turn to him alone in your underwear "Is this what you want?" you are definitely excited, you can feel how wet you are for him.

"No," he says moving closer to you "I want all of you," he tells you and starts sliding your panties down. You can see his hard cock through the fabric of his boxers.

When your panties are on the floor, he starts caressing your legs from your ankles and up."I want your legs..." he murmurs while running his fingers over your skin. It gives you shivers. "I want these thighs..." he continues caressing you, working his way up. When his face reaches your neck, he bites mercilessly, slides his fingers between your folds, and gently presses your clit.

You jump slightly at the feel of his fingers, and your hips involuntarily move forward in search of more friction. "Fuck Charles!" You moan in pleasure and grab his wrist trying to get him to touch you even more.

He looks into your eyes "Tell me you like what I do to you" he tells you, his eyes sparkle with passion. His fingers are now moving in circles on your clit. 

You moan, you're at the mercy of his fingers, and you love it. "I love what you do to me" you whisper in ecstasy.

He turns to your neck "Tell me you love how I fuck you" his fingers now press harder and move faster.

Your body bends in pure pleasure "Oh I love how you fuck me Charles!" your moans are already louder.

His cock begins to writhe in his boxers upon hearing what he wants to hear from you.

He looks into your eyes again "Do you want me to fuck you now?" His fingers slide inside you now.

Your pussy is practically dripping for him. You moan loudly "Yes!" you manage to tell him when you feel his fingers move in and out of you.

That is enough for him to lose all the sense of control that he had over you until now.

He kisses you while taking off his boxers. He quickly looks in his pants pocket for a condom.

You are already completely naked on the bed.

He opens the condom while he walks towards you, he reaches the bed, and you come closer and take his cock with your hand and start to fist it, he is already dripping pre cum liquids. He moans saying something in French when he feels the touch of your hand.

You understand that he is enjoying it and you don't stop. "It looks so good" you tell him, studying his cock up close"I can't help myself" you say and you take it to your mouth without hesitation.

He could cum just with that, but he grits his teeth to hold it back and enjoys the sight and your mouth tasting his cock.

Not only is the feeling of your mouth on his cock it’s exquisite, but the sounds emanating from your throat are also intoxicating for Charles. "Doll you're killing me," he whispers as he strokes his thumb across your cheek as his cock moves in and out of your mouth.

You like that feeling, you like knowing that you have some control over his pleasure, it's something new for you. Having been with a few men before you got married didn't allow you to experience much. This is your opportunity to push your limits a little further.

It doesn't take long for Charles to ask you to stop "Stop, stop now, I want to cum inside you" he tells you with his breath hitching.

You want him to fuck you, deep in some corner of your being you have been waiting for him to do it again, even if you don't want to admit it to yourself.

You slide your mouth off his member out of your mouth and lie down on the bed.

He slides the condom on his cock and leans over to you. "Open those legs for me," he asks.

You please him without question, that beautiful man is a sight. Standing there looking at you with so much desire in his eyes.

He brings his cock closer to your folds and rubs with the tip up and down your clit. That makes you moan and spread your legs welcoming him inside you again.

He slides into you all at once with a gasp.

"So good..." you gasp and lean back on the bed and lock your legs around his waist, making him even deeper inside of you.

This is so intimate, you are face to face, looking into each other's eyes while he is inside you.

He takes your face in his hands and forces you to fix your eyes on him. He begins to move.

You close your eyes to the pleasure. "No baby, don't close your eyes. Look at me" he tells you. You have nowhere to go, he is taking you to sex heaven with what he is doing.

"Don't stop looking at me, I want to see you when you cum for me" he tells you and he places on hand on the mattress and rises above you, allowing him access to your clit.

"God!" you scream when he starts rubbing your clit and fucking you. He is breaking you apart.

Charles feels your walls squeezing his cock over and over, your moans and how beautiful you look to him while he's fucking you is what he was looking for. Disarm you and disarm him too. 

He hadn't wanted someone as much as he wants you. And is terrifying, something new, an older woman, with more experience than him. It was something he had never imagined, you caught him off guard, just when he thought he would spend some time just having fun.

You have no restrictions on verbalizing how much you are enjoying yourself. Your legs push him deeper into you, nails digging into his arms. His sculpted body in front of your eyes is a  visual treat. Everything about this sexual act is from another world to you.

"Please, I don't want to cum yet," you ask him about reaching your climax.

Charles stops "Why babe?" he says breathlessly.

"Take me from behind Charles" you say caressing his face.

His pupils darken with desire as he hears you.

 "Goddess" is the only thing his mind can elaborate.

You quickly turn around and get on all fours on the bed "Take me please, make me cum" if you had any restrictions left, with that phrase everything went to hell. You no longer had control of your sexual instincts.

Not much to say or think. He slides inside you all at once, making you cry out in pleasure, your hands clutching the sheets.

He grabs your hips and begins with a maddening rhythm, the friction of his cock inside you is unbearably delicious.

"So so good babe... this is so good... pussy so good" he says incoherently.

You reach back towards your clit and start rubbing it gently, you don't want to finish before him. But you know you won't last much longer.

"Baby, I can’t..." he tells you about to explode.

Then you start to fuck yourself against his cock, pushing back each time he enters you.

"Merde babe shit shit shit" he grabs your hips tightly, his cock twitching inside you.

"Cum Charles, I want to feel you cumming inside me" you order him with a broken voice, you can't take it anymore either.

"Merde, mon Dieu, beau, je te donne tout..." he moans and starts cumming inside you.

"So gooooodddd" you squeal cumming too, his cock feels so good cumming inside you.

 You both collapse on the bed. The satisfaction that runs through your veins is delicious.

"Shit! That was exquisite" he mutters with his eyes closed.

You are on your stomach catching your breath. "I'm broken," you say with a lazy smile.

Charles smiles and looks at you again, there you are with your eyes closed, post sex, “Glowing” He thought for himself as he watched you.

You feel just like that, glowing and floating in the air.

Is this how you should feel after amazing sex? Or is this something else?

You open your eyes and look at him, he is smiling at you "Maybe you should go back to your room".

"Why?" Charles asks, propping himself up on his elbows..

You doubt for a few seconds before telling him. "I saw you yesterday with that girl at breakfast, I know you're not alone" you say, biting your lips.

He looks straight ahead, as if thinking of an answer. Then he just gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom. You stay in bed, you put on your underwear, you're already regretting what you just said.

He returns to the room, looks for his boxer and sits next to you on the bed. "I want to be honest with you." He starts talking "I started seeing her a few weeks ago. We're not dating, we're not a couple. She's not here anymore." He tells you looking into your eyes. "If you think it will be a problem for you, just say the words and we can stop seeing each other. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

His honesty surprises you.

You take a deep breath "Thank you for your honesty." You really do appreciate his honesty, it's not something you're used to in your experience with men. "I don't think it's a problem for me." You say looking down "You mean I can see someone else too?" you ask tentatively.

Charles is taken by surprise by your question "Of course" he answers. At least at that moment he thinks it won't be a problem for him either.

"Okay. We have a deal then?" You tell him you offer your hand for him to shake.

He takes your hand, shakes it and then approaches your face and kisses you "We have a deal" he smiles at you.

What follows after that is hours of just sex. Some talk, but purely sex.

A few minutes before 6 in the morning, Charles wakes you up with a gentle touch on the cheek. "I'm leaving, I have training in an hour and I want to shower and have breakfast" he tells you in a sleepy voice.

You can barely open your eyes "Okay, thanks for letting me know" you smile at him sleepily.

He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek laughing "See you later firecracker".

You can hear his footsteps walking away from the bed and when the door closes and you go back to sleep.

The new deal between you and him sounds reasonable. But what if at some point the reason no longer takes part in this deal?

Smiling but sleepy after a long night

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