#my boy gets to be in a forging bond

[charmwitch]

Timerra!!

Congrats on being in FEH!!! (again)

[bonefall]

Is Iceheart considered Firekin, like Cloudtail? He could be Leaf & Squirrel’s weird uncle & I love that for him

Iceheart is considered Firekin on an interesting technicality. It actually has nothing to do with blood and everything to do with Chelford

Chelford cats don't have dads like Clan cats; as a matriarchal culture, they track family through mothers. Uncles and grand-uncles usually fill the social role of "fathers", like Barley Senior and Barley Junior.

So IF Scourge and Firestar are patrilineal half-brothers, it's irrelevant. They don't know and don't care.

But, Firestar displayed radical honor, not killing Scourge when he had the right to on the battlefield. What was more, he entered negotiation with BloodClan, actually upholding what he could of Tigerstar's horrible deal. Such nobility awed Scourge.

Over time, they forged a deep respect. Firestar hosts Scourge in ThunderClan on his word that Iceheart abides by the Code while in Clan territory, and when Scourge lead BloodClan, he returned the same kindness.

You could call them adopted brothers, but technically it's more honor-based than familial, a shared value.

So yes this does mean that Leafpool and Squirrelflight had a really cool uncle.

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Reunions and Secrets

Chapter 13/? - - - Read it on AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Word Count: 13,809

Summary: Hop is racing back home to see his girl, the rest of the party is simply killing time until some parents show up. But, the three who boarded a plane from California might not be the only ones jumping into things... There just might be a few more faces coming back around...

More ST Fics

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Unfortunately, the walkie Steve handed the Byers boys had a dead battery. So the folks in the car couldn’t call ahead and tell El that her dad was coming back. Which just about made Hopper mad enough to swerve off the road. He felt like every second she didn’t know was a second she was sad or in pain. The boys assured him that, while she obviously missed him and was going to be crazy happy to get him back, she was happily watching a movie. But that didn't ease him. He needed to get back to Hawkins and let her know he was okay. And he needed to do it at that very moment.

At the house, everything was otherwise fine. Everyone was bundled together across the couch or sitting on pillows in front of it, wrapped under various blankets.

After Jonathan had to go, Argyle and Nancy were left sat together on the left, surprisingly getting along pretty well after Nancy resigned herself to the fact that he was pretty good company. His easygoing everything still confounded her, but, somehow, it made Nancy stop in her tracks and think to at least give it a try. Now that she knew he wasn't just stupid and unaware. Instead, he just chose to lean on the happier side of things anyway, and Nancy could use a skill like that. They still weren't super close, but there they were, sitting next to each other while Mr. Banks approached the climax of his character arc.

Next to that pair sat Steve and Robin, with Erica between them on the floor. Obviously, they were together, as best friends like them liked to be. Robin had even gone so far as to have her legs crossed over Steve's while El hugged onto her arm. Robin wasn't entirely sure how she managed to secure a spot in the girl's heart since they barely met before she left for California, but it made her feel pretty good anyway.

Next to El were Mike and Lucas, with Dustin sitting below them on the floor cushions. Their band of boys on the right end of the living room had included Will until he had to leave for the airport. But they still sat close together. Like they had for sleepovers from years past. They were all comfortably awaiting the arrival of some real adults and to start eating the dinner they’d put together.

And the movie itself was beginning to wrap up with that damned ‘Let's Go Fly a Kite’ scene that had Steve doing everything in his power not to sniffle. If nobody looked at him, no one would see that the last few minutes always made him tear up. He just had to keep it together. Just for a minute longer.

And then Robin looked over.

Of course, she did. Because she noticed what this movie did to him when they watched it together last time. But she didn’t draw any attention to him. She just nuzzled in a little closer to his side and rested her head on his shoulder as they watched the credits roll past a kite-filled, cloudy sky. It was nice being known like that, he decided. Nice to have someone know what you needed and how to go about it. Even if she pushed his buttons too.

As the movie was just ending, there was frantic honking coming from the driveway. The kids had just the time to get stood up and look at the front door before it was thrown open by Jonathan and Will.

“El! Come on!” Will yelled, looking like he was bursting with good news.

El was already approaching, planning to see Joyce and welcome her back, when from behind them walked in Jim.

“Hi,” he said like it was the only thing he could think to say after missing his girl for the past eight months.

And while she was slowly stepping forward a moment ago… the second she saw his face and that warm smile he was wearing, she was running right into him. Probably could’ve knocked him over if he hadn’t braced for it. And before wasting another second, she was wrapping her arms around him and noticing how differently they fit together this time. He was so thin, and she was taller, her arms longer.

But it was still him. It was still Hop.

She buried her face into him as the tears dropped from her squeezed-shut eyes. Jim also looked like he was about to cry if it was any consolation. Then, after a moment, there was a barely-said mutter spoken into his shoulder.

“What’s that, kid?” he asked her to repeat.

El pulled her head back just enough to spill out between her cries,“ I’m sorry. My- they never came back- I’m sorry I couldn’t find you-“

“Hey. No.” he pulled her in tighter as he said it,” No sorry’s from you, kid. I don’t even want to hear ‘em. I knew if there was any way you’d known, you woulda got me back, alright? I didn’t doubt that you would have gone beyond hell and back to save me. Okay? It’s not your fault, and I never thought it was. Not for one second, El.”

She tucked herself back into him as if trying to escape the rest of the world to focus entirely on the fact that he was actually back with her,” I was waiting the whole time. I always left the door open three inches. I never stopped believing you’d come back.”

He chuckled, and it shook her in such a familiar way. Filling her with the warmth of his laugh for the first time in too many months,” Oh, I know. I know you did. It’s okay now, I’m here. I’m here. I’m sorry I was gone so long, kid. But I made it back before I missed a birthday.”

She nodded her head against him and huffed her own laugh,“ You did.”

“We’re going to have a big one this year, you hear me? No hiding and no secrets this time. You and me, we're going anywhere you want to go, and anyone you want to bring can come. Okay?”

“Yeah.” she agreed while she wiped at her eyes and finally pulled away enough to really look at him,” You look so…”

“So…? Not fat?” he joked.

She laughed, but she missed the squish. Then she looked back up,“ And your hair…”

“My hair? Look at your hair.” he ran his hand over the short buzz with a sigh,“ Yeah. I kinda stole your look, kid.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what do you think?” he asked, leaning his head down and turning to the left and right to let her make a proper evaluation.

“Bitchin’,” she decided before reaching back around his middle,” Except for this part. Don’t like this at all.”

“You don’t? I tell ya, when I go see my doctor, he’s going to say that being presumed dead was just what I needed. You just wait and see.”

She shook her head, and that was the moment Joyce came in. She and Murray struggled with some of the bags, seeing as her boys and Hopper ran to the front door without helping. But when she made it in the door, she just looked at her girl.

El’s smile brightened a little more, and she said,” Thank you.”

Joyce pretty much just dropped everything at that and surged forward to get El into her arms. There was no denying that, over those eight months they’d been without Hopper, El had become her kid too. El sniffled against her for a minute until they all came down from the emotional high of their return. Past El's greetings from them, there were handshakes and hugs with Hop and more hugs and kisses on cheeks from Joyce as they both made their rounds through the rest of the room.

That is until Hopper put a hand to his stomach and groaned,” This is nice and all, but I was promised a big supper. Can we eat already?”

They all laughed at that and motioned to the open dining room doors for the adults to trickle into. The kids moved all the bags from the doorway into the living room and brought all the food in from the kitchen. Then dinner was finally underway. It was nice. Warm. The only dinner like it the Harrington House has ever seen. It was a good change.

They didn’t talk about what happened - or, more accurately - what was happening. They knew they couldn’t avoid it for very long, and the kids really did want a plan for what they could do to keep pushing forward. But… it was suppertime. They could talk about how awful everything was later. But for that moment, they could eat and laugh at how terribly Hopper stuffed his tortilla as it burst at the seams and spilled out all over his plate.

But once they’d all had their fill, Nancy mentioned Susan. It was time to get back to business. Steve was the one to call her trailer, it was already after 8:30, but she answered quickly and said she’d be there shortly for whatever conversation it was they were going to have.

During this, El noticed that Jim and Joyce were connected by their pinkies. Not outright holding hands at the dinner table. But still, they were just a little bit tied together. Just two pinkies, barely crossed, but they said a lot. She looked at it a beat longer before finding their fond smiles and asking,” So I get to keep staying with Miss Joyce, too?”

“Uh-” Jim startled slightly. Like he’d been caught red-handed. But after a second, he simmered down and answered,” Uh, yeah, kid. You can keep staying with Joyce, too. When we aren’t homeless, that is. We both can if that’s fine by all of you,” he said around the whole table, pointedly including Jonathan and Will in the question.

“Yeah.” they all seemed to answer. Happy that their household wouldn’t be splitting apart with the good news, and in agreement that it was about time for Jim and Joyce to get to be happy together. They've been heading in that direction for a while anyway, right? Then everyone moved to the living room, so they could try and figure out more of exactly what’s been going on everywhere.

“Alright, we need favorite songs.” Nancy started as she sat down and pulled back out her notebook and pen.

“What?” Jim asked, clearly that question was just about the last one he’d have expected upon his grand return. He was in Russia for eight months, after all. Surely that sort of thing should’ve come up first.

“You’re favorite song.” Robin repeated for Nancy,” We need to write it down and everyone’s getting their own on a cassette with a Walkman before much longer.”

“Okay?” he agreed, still confused,” it’s-”

“It's 'You Don’t Mess Around With Jim',” El answered for him, a proud smile tugging at her cheeks. God, they had to hurt by then. If she smiled any harder they'd bruise. Her grin just hasn’t faltered since her dad walked through that door. Not for one moment.

“Yeah. She’s right. Obviously.” Jim agreed. It wasn’t a difficult guess. It was the song he played when they moved into his cabin together. The same one he blasted in the car when he had a good day. It seemed like it was more his song than Jim Croce’s sometimes.

They looked expectantly to Joyce next, who just sort of furrowed her brows and asked herself,” What is my favorite song?”

“What about ’Uptown Girl’?” El considered.

Joyce scrunched her nose and shook her head.

Jonathan tried to come up with something next,“ Well, it has to be something Fleetwood Mac, right?”

“I mean, probably. They are my favorite, but I’m not good at remembering the names.”

“What about ’Dreams’?” he offered.

To that, she shrugged and gave a thoughtful,“ …Yeah. Yeah, I like that one.”

“Okay, but do you just like it, or do you love it? ‘Cause, it kinda needs to be one that you really love, like a lot.” Robin emphasized.

“Um… okay, what’s that one that’s all…” Joyce asked her kids and started humming a chorus line.

“Oh! Oh! I know it… It’s- it’s-” Will racked his brain for it. The title was on the tip of his tongue,” It’s- Oh! It’s ’The Chain’! Right?”

“Okay, then that’s it.” Joyce decided,” That’ll be my favorite.”

“And Murray?”

“What is this for?” He questioned Nancy back, like something as simple as his favorite song was a sort of sensitive information that she’d abuse.

“Saving your life?” she answered.

“And if I don’t buy that so easily?”

“Alright, you paranoid bastard,” Erica cut in, having no patience for him,” Newsflash: there’s an evil mind wizard who might try to possess the box of nuts and bolts on the end of your neck. And if he does, the only hope you’ll have is that somebody in this room will have the good sense to put some music over your ears that'll snap you out of his spell. So, unless you really want to die over a song title, I suggest you cough it up.”

“I see you’re still a pleasure, Miss Erica Sinclair…” he held a snide smile for her before answering,” It’s ‘No More’ by Billie Holiday. Duh.”

“The ‘duh’ was petty and uncalled for.” she checked him.

“About as uncalled for as a five-year-old on the doomsday team?” he threw back,” What’re you going to do, color the wizard to death with crayons?”

“This eleven-year-old,” she corrected,” has already stabbed a tire on a police car and swung on a psycho with a blunt object for the cause, and she’s prepared to do a whole lot more. What’ve you done for it? Besides lying about a vacation to Alaska?”

He held up a finger at her,“ For the record, we did go to Alaska. We just also took a little trip over to-”

And then there was a knock on the front door. Susan Mayfield must have arrived. And they didn’t even get through where Jim has been, what Henry/Vecna/One was, or what they were going to tell her about any of it. At any rate, it was happening right now. Nothing they could do about it. They’d just have to follow Jim and Joyce’s lead.

Steve stood up from the living room and went to answer the door. He was the one who invited Susan over, after all. But then, he was left only to find it wasn’t Susan Mayfield standing on his front porch, but Karen Wheeler instead.

“Hi, Steve!” She smiled at him, holding a glass container with what looked like lasagna in it,” Thought we’d take the first shift to drop off some food to keep you kids fed-”

That was when her eyes slipped from his frozen expression and over his shoulder to see Ms. Byers in the living room,” Joyce? When did you get into to-”, and then her gaze fell just to the left,” Hopper?! Okay- Okay, what is going on here? He’s supposed to be… ”

“Sorry, sorry! Hard getting these all in one trip.” Claudia called up as she joined Karen in the doorway with at least three different containers of food herself.

When neither Steve nor Karen responded, Claudia turned to the other mom to ask,” What’s going on?”

And when she looked back inside and saw the same guests that had Karen stunned, she reacted in just about the same way,” Joyce? Ho-Hopper? What’re you…?”

“Um... Surprise?” was all the boy could come up with.

“Surprise?” Karen questioned back at him.

Joyce came forward to meet her at the door,“ Hi, Karen. Claudia.”

“Joyce, what the hell is going on here? He- He died. There was a service, and there were articles, and the news- And- And you mourned, Joyce. And his kid-” Karen had to close her eyes to stop her sputtering questions - her mind was clearly running faster than she could manage- to focus on what she really needed to ask,” What is going on, and why do my children and a bunch of their friends know about it?”

“Why is my Dusty-bun…?”

“Um- It’s-” Joyce tried to figure herself out, until…

“Claudia? Karen?”

Ah, there’s Susan.

“Do they know?” Susan asked Steve.

“Do we know what?” Karen echoed the question.

Jim stood up from the couch and came to the front,“ Okay, so this is happening.”

“Chief Hopper?” Susan now questioned.

“Now that we’re all up to speed on how clueless the moms out here are, can someone please explain what the hell is going on?” Karen requested.

“Seems to me,” Jim decided,” the only option here is to go over everything. From the beginning, for everyone here, until we get to where we stand now. Sound good to everyone?”

“The NDAs?” Nancy inquired from the living room.

“I’m gonna say, executive decision, fuck the NDAs. I’m legally dead, and if the suits didn’t nab me off the plane…" he shrugged," Well, way I see it, everything I do before they realize I’m back is kinda their fault for being so bad at their jobs in the first place.”

“NDAs? Suits?” Karen asked.

“Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Wheeler. We’ll cover that,” Jim acknowledged.

“Holy shit- this is really happening,” Mike said to Nancy, trying to wrap his head around his mother, Karen Wheeler, knowing about all the stuff they’ve been up to over the last two and a half years.

“Language, Mike,” she called over.

“Okay, Mom, it’s kind of crazy to think that we’re going to be inviting you into hell, but-”

“Language, Nancy!”

Steve pulled the door open further and motioned for the moms to join the rest of them in the living room,“ Why doesn’t everybody just come on in?”

“Yeah, bring ‘em all in, Steve. Let’s just tell everyone’s mothers about the goddamn Upside Down.”

“Language, Dustin!” Claudia had to say to her own. To Karen, she huffed,” Geez, you’d think we raised our kids in a barn…”

“And what was that? The ‘Upside Down’ that you’re going to be telling us about?” Karen pointed out as they all got seated in Steve's living room.

Joyce thought,“ Well… um, where do we start?”

“With me?” El raised her hand.

“Yeah, we’ll start there.” Jim agreed.

The next hour or so was filled with the coverage of everything. Everything that started way back in November ‘83, and they moved forward as chronologically as they could. The kids told their sides, adults answered most of the questions, had to excuse how they couldn't stop the kids from being involved, explained away every coverup story, filled in context for every mystery scar… It was a wild ride. There were a lot of interruptions and even more disbelief. El had to change the tv channel five times and lift it off the entertainment center before any of them started to believe they were telling truth. But when they did… oh, when they did.

“And that’s about everything that happened up until two weeks ago.” Joyce concluded,” Clearly, more has just gone on, but we haven’t even had time to discuss that amongst ourselves yet, so I guess you’ll be here while we try to figure that out, well, now.”

“You’re trying to tell me that my children could’ve died countless times over the last three years, just because… why?” Karen was at a loss for words.

Joyce swore to her,“ We always tried to keep the kids out of it. We told them over and over again to stay home, or at the middle school, and, just, not put themselves on the front line while we tried to deal with it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our kids don’t listen very well.”

“You’re telling me…” Karen muttered, shooting a glance at her own.

“And they saved my Will. Back when he went missing, so many people didn’t believe that something was going on. And El, she never chose to be a part of this. She got stuck with it. And this town is stuck with it. The Lab... the problem is here, it started here. And, at the end of the day, this is the crew trying to solve that problem.”

"We're the doomsday team," Erica added, using Murray's name for their group.

“And Max? She just… happened to have made friends with the kids involved and wanted to know everything herself? The reason she’s in a hospital bed right now is because last year we happened to move to the town with monsters, and she happened to find the only boys who knew about it?”

They were all struck a little silent by the question. It was Lucas who eventually answered her,“ Yeah. That's pretty much how it...”

Susan’s hand pressed into her chest, and it didn’t seem like she even saw anyone else in the room,“ If I hadn’t said that we needed a change of pace… to get away from California and the fighting… She’d be fine?”

“It’s not your fault, Susan.” Claudia put a hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her.

She stood up out of the other mother's reach,“ I was the one that said taking Billy to the Midwest might temper him. I thought a small town without so much to do might bring down his aggression and help us manage his behavior… If I had just let Neil take us to Vermont instead, we wouldn’t be…”

“Susan. You didn’t know. If you did, you would’ve never made that choice.” Karen assured her,” If I knew my kids were doing this, I would’ve packed them up the second...” Karen looked at Joyce when she realized what she was getting at. She would've made her kids leave after Will went missing. Leaving him behind for their family's good.

“I would’ve moved Dustin and me to my brother’s ages ago,” Claudia added.

“But I brought them here! If I hadn’t, they never would’ve-”

“Maybe they wouldn’t have.” Nancy gave her,” And maybe things would be a little bit better for a few of us if everyone had pulled us away from Hawkins when Will went missing…”

She shook her head and continued,“ But if you had, he would’ve never been found, and he would’ve died, scared and alone. And Joyce and Jonathan would’ve never known what happened to him. And El would’ve never stayed free of that lab. And maybe Barb wouldn’t have been at the wrong place at the wrong time because of me, and maybe she’d be fine. But someone else would’ve been in her place. And maybe all the people who were still here wouldn’t have stood a chance if we weren't here. But we were. And we noticed, and we fought back against an invading dimension of monsters with three successes and one pending results. There were losses. We know that. But we are what Hawkins has to fight for it. And I don’t regret being on the team.”

“You don’t?” her mother asked.

“No. I really don’t. I wish I’d done a better job in places. I wish I didn’t… make so many mistakes. But I don’t regret being on the team. We’re the team. And we have each other’s backs.” Nancy looked over and took Robin’s hand in hers before she realized she was even going to do it, simply remembering the vines and the fear,” We don’t leave each other behind. Even if we have to face down terrifying creatures or carry someone bleeding out of hell, we have each other. And now that you know what’s going on, you’re all on the team, too.”

Susan seemed a little far off in her head, but she sat back down while Claudia asked,“ And what does that mean? Being on the team?”

“It means, well, you help us not let the world end. Whatever skills you’ve got to bring to the table, we’ll use ‘em and find a way out of this mess. Because we don’t have any other choice.” Jonathan answered.

Karen continued,“ And what’s happening now? What’s all this… spring break business that happened?”

And thus, they went into another long hour of explaining. Now having to string together Henry Creel and Russia, which was a much more convoluted mess to sort out. It took a while, but they explained everything until everyone - all seventeen of them, as crazy as it was - knew where they stood currently on the apocalypse radar.

They also ended up eating a lot of the brownies Claudia had shown up with.

Comfort food to combat the reality of their horror stories. Or something like that.

By the end of the night, everyone was way more involved, and Lucas and Erica were left begging Karen not to tell Sue and Charles about everything. They were less keen on joining the club of kids whose parents were on the in. But she wasn’t having any of it. She wished she had known what was going on, and Erica is still only eleven, for goodness sake. They deserve to know when it concerns their eleven-year-old. The Sinclairs would be brought into the fold. And that was final.

But she wouldn’t be reaching out to the Buckleys and the Harringtons. She didn’t know them like she knew her neighbors, and both Steve and Robin were very insistent that their parents would only cause issues. Which is the same reason that Karen decided she would not be telling Ted what was going on.

She knew her husband. Knew how he saw giving to anyone else as tantamount to accepting theft. He audibly complains about feeding Mike’s friends when they were over. If he was aware of the situation… he would just up and move them. No discussion. He would just list the house and have them moved to another state without a second thought or consideration. And, as much as Karen would love to remove her kids from the risk entirely, she can’t not help. Not when other mothers’ children would still be in harm's way and they’d be leaving them worse off without the support.

So Ted wasn’t to know. Neither was Holly, obviously. Those Wheelers wouldn’t be a part of this.

The other three would handle it themselves.

And with that thought, Karen suddenly knew a little bit about how her daughter felt these last few years. Keeping such a big secret to spare her family pain and allow her to be there for her friends. She had a good eldest daughter. She’s always known so. But it was new to see it from this light. To know what was actually going on and how strong she's been this whole time.

She’s just been ‘trying to manage it all’.

Like she’d told her the other morning in the hospital hallway. Nancy’s been very alone in managing everything. But she’s had the other members of this team. And now she had her mother. So Karen was going to fight tooth and nail to take some of that burden off her shoulders. And keep her husband off her back. She'd be making sure he dropped his whole 'no keys until you can prove you'll be responsible' thing.

“And those other two should be joining up soon,” Jim remembered.

“Two more?” Steve asked, eyebrows climbing on his face to imagine their group growing even further.

“Yeah, we brought them over but couldn’t really seat them on a commercial flight, for obvious reasons. Dmitri and his son Mikhail.” Joyce explained.

“Mikhail? You don’t think that’ll be confusing?” Mike wondered.

“Would you prefer we left them to the Soviets where Dmitri would’ve been hunted down and executed for defecting because you and his son sort of have similar names, Michael?” Murray questioned.

Joyce dismissed,“ He doesn’t even go by Mike. So, as long as you didn’t decide to give 'Mikhail' a try, we should be fine.”

“So we actually have Russian friends now?” Robin asked.

“Just the two. Yuri was a bastard, so we didn’t invite him along. But Dmitri and his son were good. He was the only reason we knew Hop was alive and in Russia, and he’s sticking the thing out with us now that he’s fought the same monster and wants to retire to small-town America. And his kid was a little quiet, but we did snatch him up in a sudden helicopter ride, so I think he was just shy. Anyway, we got them to America, and I handed off my car to them in California with directions on a map on how to get here so we could help them get set up.”

“How were you planning to pass off heavily-accented, eastern Europeans as just simply 'the new guys in town'?” Erica pressed.

“You don’t know how strong their accents are.” Murray pointed out.

“You telling me no one’s gonna notice the voices of Mother Russia?” she asked back.

“Okay, they have pretty unmistakable accents, but whatever. We can make up some shit about them being double agents in witness protection or something.” Jim grumbled.

“Riiiiiiight, because people in Hawkins are so understanding and respectful of each other’s privacy.”

“Okay, from what I’ve heard, the town is clearing out anyhow. Whoever’s still kicking around can just deal with it.”

There was a little bit more chatter as they finished catching everyone up. Eventually, the moms decided it was time to return home, but they ended up agreeing to a real sleepover at Steve’s, now that they knew what their kids went through. It seemed like letting them spend time together, where they got to keep an eye on each other and know that no one was in danger, was something they just couldn’t say no to. So the three of them headed off into the night with the understanding that they’d be coming back to Steve’s with Erica and Lucas’s parents in the morning to explain it all to them too. And once everyone was together, they'd figure out a strategy for taking out Vecna. Once and for all.

They couldn't do it that night though. So everyone got ready to wind down.

The California crew changed into their newly delivered pajamas, and Claudia made the rounds to everyone's house before dropping off things for the locals. Meanwhile, Steve was getting room assignments figured out. The kids, again, banded together to camp out in the living room with plans to doze off to The Sound of Music. Steve was walking Hopper, Joyce, and Murray up the stairs to show them around the house. Seeing as Joyce’s house was in California, Hopper’s cabin was in shambles, and Murray’s place was in Illinois, they’d all be joining them in the now slightly packed Harrington house. He was in the process of offering the master to Joyce and Hopper since they were an item now and bringing up showers.

“Joyce mentioned you guys didn’t have time to stop and clean up, so I can grab you all some towels and leave you to the bathrooms.”

Jim looked over the moon to think about it,“ Oh, kid, you don’t even know how long I’ve been looking forward to a real, hot shower-” Then he suddenly stopped and grabbed Steve’s shoulders with wide eyes,” Wait- Steve.”

“Yes?” he asked.

“You’re rich people,” he said, asserting the fact without any further context.

Steve’s expression turned more confused,“ Yes?”

“Do your parents have- have one of those- those tubs with the- with the-”

“The jets?” Steve figured,” Yeah, they have a jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom.”

“Oh my god-” Hopper pulled Steve into a just short of crushing hug and smacked a surprising kiss to his forehead before nearly running down the hall, calling back," Joyce! We’re taking the dibs on the master! I LOVE RICH PEOPLE!”

Which was… Okay, was there something in the water? Because everyone kept hugging Steve, and he wasn't entirely opposed to it, but geez, it’s not the level of daily physical contact he’s used to.

Besides that display, Joyce followed in with their bags, and Steve showed Murray to one of the guest bedrooms to make himself at home. Steve went back downstairs to see the kids throwing around even more pillows and blankets and just about beating them into submission to get themselves settled and comfortable for the movie.

Steve took a vote for popcorn and ended up juggling four big plastic bowls of the stuff back into the living room. He passed them out and noticed Robin and Nancy looking over something together while Jonathan and Argyle whispered and glanced over at Argyle's bag. He thought nothing of it until, as he was trying to retake his seat by Robin for the movie, she and Nancy stood up. Said they were going to “be right back” before they broke for the dining room. Then the other two split off right after, presumably to get stoned.

All of this left Steve, once again, so very outnumbered by a bunch of children.

“Always the babysitter…” he groaned as he tugged on the blanket Erica was hogging.

“Then be a good babysitter and sit quietly. It’s starting,” she shot back, like the little spitfire she was, but she let them share the blanket anyway as the opening credits rolled over landscape shots of the Swiss Alps and the orchestra faded in.

The two California boys ended up sitting in the grass against the side of Steve’s house, just out of the view of the street or any neighbors. Argyle was sparking up a joint for them to pass, no longer worried about running out since his Mamá Isadora was nice enough to throw in his stash with his clothes. He thanked his lucky stars all the time that she was so into the flower power, peace and love stuff of the 70’s when he was younger. It was nice that she just understood that kind of stuff with him.

But right now, Jon was the one he needed to reach an understanding with. Because he’s been biting his cuticles down to the quick ever since they crossed the Indiana state line. So, once he got the joint started and took his own drag, he handed it over to his best friend and looked up at the stars. Letting a comfortable silence fall around them just long enough for Jonathan to take a deep inhale and get resolved to reach a blissful marijuana haze. Once he committed himself to getting it, he'd be cornered until they got there.

A winning strategy to make sure he couldn't escape.

“Alright, brochacho, what’re you doing right now?” Argyle asked, looking over at Jonathan as he let out a puff of smoke.

Jonathan looked back, confused, and handed over the joint,“ What do you mean?”

Argyle let him stew in the question for a second as he took his turn before giving it back and reiterating,“ With Nancy. What’re you doing with Nancy?”

“I-” he hesitated to take the blunt being handed back as he tried to deny it,” I’m not doing anything.”

“And that’s the problem,” Argyle proclaimed.

And he looked serious about what he was saying, which Argyle didn’t do often. So Jonathan tried to avoid his eyes. Rolled his own and looked away to ask,“ How could that be the problem?”

“We’ve been in your hometown for over 24 hours now. Right?”

“And?”

“And you haven’t talked to her. Not once, one-on-one.” he pointed out,” Which you kinda have to do to tell her you’re going to Lenora Community.”

Jonathan waved around his hand as he searched for a usable excuse,“ We’ve all been busy with the group, and always with the whole group, and there just hasn't been time to-”

Argyle cut through his fumbling with ease,“ You’re avoiding her, man.”

Jonathan took another draw and locked his eyes on the blade of grass tickling his ankle,“ That such a bad thing to do?”

“It’s only gonna get worse the longer it takes to talk to her. You need to tell her you didn’t apply to Emerson.”

He tried to explain,“ I- I was already floundering with how I was supposed to say it before. And that would’ve just been over the phone-”

“Over the phone wouldn'ta been right anyway,” Argyle threw in, not that Jonathan was really listening.

“-But how am I supposed to just spring this on her now? Right to her face, in the middle of this bullshit Upside Down stuff? And then - after it all blows up and I’ve hurt her - then we’re all just going to go back to California, and it’ll look like I’m running away from the train wreck I caused. Just leaving her behind because I’m not man enough to deal with the fact that…”

That he didn't feel like he was worth Nancy’s time to keep trying. Jonathan was all messed up right now, and he couldn’t seem to pull himself together, and he just couldn’t saddle Nancy with that job. He wouldn't. It wasn't fair to her. He cared about Nancy. Still loved her, in some way. But it wasn't… wasn't how it should be. And he was making it worse every day.

He took another hit, beating himself up in his head and seeming to forget his manners when it came to their puff, puff, pass now that Argyle was making him stop and think too much.

“Yeah, it’s gonna suck. But you can’t pretend like it’s not happening.” Argyle told him firmly,” She deserves to know that she’s headed to Boston alone, and you deserve to not look like you’re gonna blow chunks every time you’re in the same room because you're so guilty over it.”

Jonathan finally looked back over at him, lifting up his hand to admire the joint and ask,“ Can’t we just keep smoking Purple Palm Tree Delight? Eventually, make the problems actually blow away like the seed pods of a dandelion?”

Argyle took it from his fingers and assured him,“ It’s pretty incredible, dude, but not that powerful. It’ll make it feel like they have for a few hours, but you’re always gonna sober up, and the problem’s still gonna be there. Pushing it off will only make it suck even more.”

“I know you’re right. But-” Jonathan tried to argue.

But Argyle kept going,“ I already told you, back in Lenora, that you can’t keep lying about it. And now I know your crew of little dudes has a catchphrase about how ‘friends don’t lie’. Seems like you know what you gotta do. Even if you and Nance are hitting the rocks, you should be a good friend and be honest with her about it. Before she’s in the car driving up north thinking you’ve abandoned her outta nowhere.”

Jonathan rubbed his hands down his face and nodded into them,“ I know. I know, you’re right…”

“That it? Or you gonna try and squeeze another ‘but’ in there?” Argyle got the sentence out without breaking the moment by laughing, but just barely. He definitely smiled to himself at the phrase “squeeze another ‘butt’ in there”.

“That’s it,” he admitted,” You’re right. I need to break up with her. Sooner rather than later.”

Argyle clapped him on the shoulder and held back out the joint as his reward,“ Good boy, Jonny.”

“Can’t do it tonight though.”

He shrugged against him,“ Tonight’s practically over anyway. And you did good making the decision and saying it out loud. We can lose ourselves to the Purple Palm Tree Delight for now, but don’t let yourself get all swept up in things that you keep pushing it off again.”

“Yeah. I’ll do it.” Jonathan smiled a second before adding,” I know you’ll keep hounding me if I don’t anyway.”

“You know I will.” Argyle agreed with a self-satisfied smile and a ruffle to Jonathan’s hair.

They ended up staying outside together for a while. Enjoying the easy bliss that the bud draped over them. They were probably out there close to an hour before they decided it was too chilly and went back inside to watch the movie. The girls, however, were not doing something as simple as they were. Instead, Nancy and Robin collected themselves back in the dining room where Nancy unpacked her purse of the notebook, loose papers, and sticky notes into the table.

“So you said you were working on an article?” Robin asked.

Nancy nodded as she sorted through all the bits of her work so far,“ Yeah, the one I was starting before all of this happened. I figured, even if it’s not the same one I was planning to write, I could still put something together. Just, less about the murders as a mystery, and more about Eddie’s innocence of them. You know?”

Robin was following the idea well enough, but Nancy just poured a ton of disorganized chaos in front of her, so she wasn’t really sure where to look,“ Annnnd, this is what you have to work off of?”

“Well, it’s a rough idea right now.” she excused,” Over here, I have my interview notes from Wayne before we knew what was going on, and these pages have a couple of ideas on how to organize and frame the story, and - well, obviously we can’t talk about Upside Down stuff - so I’m still trying to decide how much of our story with the police I can use. Without making the whole thing just look like a story drummed up by a group of teenagers. Which is what it is, at the end of the day, so I keep trying to find a way to distinguish it. Other sources, or just something to make it seem more solid. More reliable.”

“And you want my help on it?” Robin clarified.

Suddenly it struck Nancy that maybe they weren’t friends enough for her to have asked Robin to do this for her,“ Is that weird? I’m sorry-”

“No, no. Not weird.” Robin assured her,” I just- I’m not on the school paper, so I don’t- I don’t know how helpful I’ll be with the whole journalism thing.”

Nancy went just a little rigid at the question. She didn’t meet Robin’s eyes for a bit. Instead, she fiddled with the papers in front of her as she explained,“ Freddie’s already gone. I saw Tonya on the missing person’s board at the high school. And Mary Pat was getting into her parent's car with half a dozen suitcases when I was leaving the hospital. I could try to track down Markus, Amelia, Lucy, Elijah, or Christina, I guess… But they don’t know the truth, so I’d be spending half the time brainstorming just trying to keep my mouth shut, all while having to convince them Eddie’s even a good guy in the first place-”

Then Nancy took a breath and looked at Robin again,“ But you already know those things. And I know you’re smart, so I’m sure you’d be a lot of help while we work on this and… I don’t know. I thought, if we put together something good enough and published it, we might be able to help Eddie get out from under everything. At least in the eyes of the people of Hawkins.”

And Nancy still looked like she was asking. Still unsure that Robin would be willing to help her out on this even though they’ve teamed up on both Dr. Hatch and putting together the original cover story. So Robin smiled and gave a joking,“ And we’re friends, so I’m obviously going to help you.”

Which pulled a grin onto Nancy’s face as she quipped right back,“ Yeah, I was kinda banking on that part too.”

“Alright,” Robin clapped her hands together and surveyed the papers before them,” So besides Wayne pointing the finger at the Creels, he’s also a character witness, like the boys are.”

“Yes, and I can use that, but I need more than just super biased quotes to pull from.”

“Well, the people who are most convinced that Eddie’s the devil are the ones fleeing the county. So we only need to put together enough of a story to assure the people who are still here and on the fence.” Robin hummed to herself,“ Um… what about teachers? Do we know any teachers that particularly liked Eddie? That’d be a little less personal and credible.”

“He was in band and drama. We can reach out to both directors and see if they’d be willing to say something good about him.”

“And what about Steve?” Robin suggested.

“Steve?” Nancy had no clue what Robin was doing bringing him into it.

“Well, the guy’s pretty famously not the kind of person who’d be tight in Eddie’s social circle, right?” she began to explain,” So a statement from him about what happened while we were all out there, it’d look better than one from the kids. Or from you being a Hellfire kid’s sister. Mr. Well-Known and Popular taking center stage to say even he’s sure Eddie didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, something from Steve could help.” Nancy agreed.

“Is there anything else you might’ve not thought of yet?”

“Well,” Nancy considered,” Something that we didn’t have before, but have now… is Jim Hopper. If we re-introduce Hop back into the town soon and get a quote that he looked at the case and his gut says it’s not the Munson kid, he’d be a pretty official source.”

Robin seemed to brighten up seeing Nancy come up with something even though she seemed stuck a moment ago,“ See. Pretty damn well. Despite a few I-don’t-know’s.”

“We still don’t know if it’ll work.” Nancy tried to remind her.

But Robin’s belief in Nancy was pretty unshakeable,“ Well, by my count, that’s a few character statements, an inside peak from semi-heroic Steve Harrington, long lost chief Hopper’s opinion on the official report, and once the police department drops the charges… If I was reading something with all of that, I’d be pretty convinced. You’re a genius, Nancy, bask in it.”

“It happens to be a lot easier when I have you tackling the problem with me.” Nancy tried to share the praise.

“Oh, please,” Robin waved her off,” I’m just stoked I get to help Nancy Wheeler write the most important newspaper article to come out of this town.”

“Okay, a triple murder that preceded a natural disaster is probably the biggest thing to officially happen in Hawkins,” she had to admit,” But it’s still just the school paper. It’s not like I’m the editor at the Hawkins Post or anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. When Emerson sees you, Nancy Wheeler, reporting live with the first inside scoop, they are going to beg you to run your own class up there.”

She rolled her eyes at the other girl and teased,“ Oh really?”

“Absolutely. They’ll be almost as amazed as I am and throw a degree at you as soon as you step on campus.” Robin sat back while Nancy shook her head at her,“ What? You think I’m expecting too much of them?”

And Nancy couldn't stop the giggle rising in her chest, nor the automatic “You’re an idiot, Robin Buckley” that slipped out of her.

“You just said I was smart!” Robin tried to dispute.

“Maybe, but you can still be an idiot too.” Nancy continued to huff until her cheeks her red. She fanned them off when they’d settled down a bit and reached over,“ Here, take a pen and help me start drafting this thing. And if you can come up with a snappy, eye-catching title, that’d be helpful.”

Robin pulled out her extra gravely, spooky narrator voice and offered,“ Eddie Munson: More Man Than Monster!”

“Alliteration is not the only requirement.”

Next, she buzzed through,“ We Know You Think He’s A Serial Killer With Demon Powers, But He’s Just A Dorky Guy, And Jason’s The Crazy One!”

“I said snappy, Buckley! That's way too long! Come on, gimme something I can work with!”

“I’ll come up with something! Let me think on it a minute.”

They sat at the table working on it together all the way until Maria ran away from the von Trapps and the intermission started. At that point, all the kids ran off for bathroom breaks, and the girls took the hint it was about time to join them and wind down for the night. By then, Jonathan and Argyle had already returned, and Hopper had made himself comfy, looking like he was ready to doze off right there.

Steve stood up and took all the bowls of popcorn, empty except for the remaining un-popped kernels, into the kitchen to dump out and clean up. When he was focused on this task, Joyce must’ve wrapped up her shower and snuck up behind him. Somehow just suddenly coming up behind him with a kind of serious and gentle energy that said she had something to talk to him about.

“Hi, honey…” she already sounded like she had a specific thought on her mind she was getting to.

“Hi, are you both getting settled in fine?” he thought to ask while he scrubbed away popcorn butter with a soapy sponge.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hop just conks out on that couch, so yeah, I’d say so.” she gave a small laugh at the thought.

“That’s good.” was all he could come up with when he realized he didn’t have anything else to stall with until he finished the dishes.

“Um, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

She took a step closer to him,“ Is there any reason I had to wipe some dust off the bedside table?”

Shit.

He tried to excuse it,“ I should’ve cleaned that up before you guys got here-“

“Honey,” she interrupted him with a soft voice,” How long has it been since your parents have been home?”

Right. That… that makes sense to ask, given the evidence she found. Great. Great, great, great. How does he get out of this without just spewing a few obvious lies?

“It hasn’t been that long.” he tried anyway.

Joyce made a face like she wanted to wince,“ It’s dust… It takes a while to collect like that.”

It does, doesn’t it? Yeah. Of course, it does.

Steve tried to sound casual, like it wasn’t a big deal, and he was just tossing the numbers around to remember how long it’s been exactly,“ I guess… it’s been about three months.”

“Wait- you’ve been…” Joyce looked heartbroken for him,” Were they even home for Christmas?”

He shrugged and moved on to the last bowl, hoping he could finish it up quickly,“ It’s fine. You know, Robin came over every day that week, and we watched all of our favorites. We had a good time. Even ended Christmas Eve with It’s A Wonderful Life before I drove her home so-“

“Steve. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I wish I’d known.” she insisted.

“Why?” he couldn’t help but ask. Because, really, why should she have? Joyce didn’t owe him a proper Christmas. He wasn’t her kid to take care of. And it wouldn't have done anyone any good anyway,” What would've been the point in making you sad in Lenora?”

She didn’t have an answer for him. At least not immediately. But after he put down the bowl on the drying rack and looked at her to try and pass back into the living room, then she spoke up,

“You know, we haven’t really talked it through as a family yet - the family’s changing, and there hasn't been a second to consider it - but I think we’re going to decide to move back over here. To Hawkins. Once everything resolves.”

“That’ll be nice. For all the kids to get to go to school together again, I mean-”

But Joyce continued,“ I bring it up because - I know it’s quite a ways away still - but I’d like to invite you to our house for Christmas this year. If your folks are gone again, and you don’t have family to spend it with.”

Oh.

She didn’t want to pressure him, so she added,“ You don’t have to if you’d be uncomfortable or anything. I just wanted you to know you’d be welcome at our dinner table and around our tree, even if it’s smaller than what you might be used to-”

“No. No, that sounds…” he struggled with how to describe exactly how warm and fuzzy the invitation made his chest feel, but he settled on,” That sounds really nice. I, uh, really appreciate the thought, Joyce. I don’t know what’ll happen in nine more months, but-”

“No, of course, it’s still really far away-”

“But I’d like to. Join your household for Christmas.” he decided anyway.

A soft smile came to her face,“ Then, I hope I’ll get to see you if your parents aren’t able to-”

“Would it be okay if I showed up anyway… even if they were in town?” he was a little shy to ask, but honestly, even if his mom and dad were there, he’d rather go somewhere where it'd actually feel like Christmas.

“Of course, sweetheart.” she assured him, reaching up to set a comforting hand on his shoulder,” Any reason at all, you’re always more than welcome to come by. When we aren’t already borrowing your home, that is.”

“Okay.” he nodded,” Thank you, Joyce. I-”

“Steve!” Dustin yelled from the living room,” Are you trying to miss the Baroness’s horrible attempt at parenting or something?!”

Joyce smiled wider, in that warm way that moms always seemed to in movies, and told him,“ We should probably head in to join them.”

“Yeah. Probably.” he agreed.

They ended up all together in the living room as the last hour and a half of the movie played through. By the end of it, the kids had fallen asleep, including El, who was cuddled up on top of her snoring dad. Joyce went back up to the master bedroom, and Murray went for the guest room he was set up in. Nancy headed for the other while Robin welcomed herself to Steve’s room since he was passed out in the pile.

Maybe an hour or so after the movie finished though, he blinked his eyes back open to realize he’d fallen asleep in the first place. Erica ended up using his lap as a pillow, so it took him a few minutes of very slow and careful movements to get out from under her head before he was able to break for the stairs and try to get some sleep in an actual bed. Instead of a car seat and sofa cushion, of course.

Lo and behold, he opens his door to see Robin all spread out like a starfish under his covers. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he crossed the room and had to shove over her limbs to try and squish himself into bed.

“Hey. Doofus. It’s rude to wake a sleeping lady,” she mumbled half-asleep to him, most of it went right into the pillow.

“It’s rude to steal a guy’s bed and spill all his secrets.” he fired back.

“You fell asleep on the couch, I didn’t want a sore back,” she rolled over a bit so she was speaking more clearly.

“I had a crazy morning…” he groaned.

With that, Robin seemed to wake up just a bit,” What do you mean 'crazy morning'? Explain.”

Steve felt the familiar urge to clam up, the warning to not be vulnerable, but he always knew he could ignore it when it was Robin he was with,“ My dad called. Got an earful. Kinda went off on some junk cars and shit after.”

She turned over enough to look at him,“ You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to-?”

“Nah. I’m tired, Rob. Just wanna go to sleep.” he looked back at his ceiling and mumbled,” But we’ll find some time to run off and talk about it later. That and what we're doing about Vickie.”

"Dingus," she shoved him before snuggling herself in a little closer,“ Sorry I told so many of your secrets today.”

“It’s fine.” he sighed and looked back at her,” You spilled a few of your own too, so I guess it’s sorta even.”

She grinned at him,“ A few.”

“But not all of them.”

She closed her eyes and hummed for a moment before nodding along,“ Nope. Not all of them. I’m a girl who likes to keep an air of mystery about her, you know.”

“That why didn’t even bring up the other reason why you like ‘Dancing Queen’ so much?” he asked.

There was a pause after the question before Robin spoke in a voice rich with the sound of her smile,“ I haven't the faintest clue as to what you're referring to.”

“You’re telling me it’s not even a little bit because we spent your seventeenth birthday together?” he dared her to deny it.

Her voice hiked a pitch higher as she feigned confusion,“ We did?”

“Oh, yeah,” he squished in closer behind her and reminisced,” Little over two weeks after Starcourt burned down when you were still so freaked out about joining the end of the world club that you didn’t even want to celebrate? You were all ‘what’s the point of anything- nothing is safe- how do I live life as a normal person anymore- I can’t handle this-’ all the time. So I convinced you to come with me, and I snuck you into a club over an hour away the night before. You were stammering the whole ride over that you weren’t even eighteen yet - not even seventeen yet, technically - so there was no way they’d let you in. But I managed it anyway. And I even got the DJ to play your favorite song for you, right at midnight. So you got to be the Dancing Queen the second you became seventeen. What? That didn’t have anything to do with that at all?”

“That happened?” she tried again.

“You’re so stupid.” he playfully shoved her messy head of hair on his pillow,” You didn’t even let me sneak you a drink, so I know you remember it.”

“Maybe I do. Sue me for trying to keep a few of our secrets just our own.”

“Never.” he hummed as he shimmied to try and get comfortable. Ended up laying his arm over Robin’s waist when a thought occurred to him,“ You know this is gonna cause so many rumors, right?”

She gave a melodramatic gasp and cried,” Steve and Robin! Sharing a bed! What ever might they do?!”

He played along with her theatrics,“ It couldn’t be… they’ll… fall asleep!” and then he squeezed his arm around her tighter for effect.

“You’re such a dork,” she told him.

“No, I’m not. You’re all the dorks. Lucas, Max, and I are the cool ones.”

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that.” she reached over her shoulder to pat his head.

“It’s the truth-”

Then she smeared her hand down his face,“ Sssshhhhhhhhh, Stephen, my sweet summer child, shut up and let me sleep.”

“I’m older, and I was born in winter-” he tried to correct her, but she was smooshing his lips around before he could finish.

“Ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh”

He had to shake his face to get her to back off,“ At least scoot over, Rob. You’re hogging all the bed space.”

“Don’t be afraid of some cuddles.”

“I’m not, but we’re already spooning, and my ass is hanging off the mattress. Now scoot.”

It took a few more minutes for them to get themselves situated, but once they did, Steve and Robin both felt safer than they had all week.

They fell asleep like that. Robin all wrapped up in Steve’s arms. They both ran warm though, so they’d most likely end up kicking each other away as the night went on, but that was just par for the course with them. It’s still a little crazy to him that he has someone he cares about enough to hold, and it’s not some romantic thing. All of the touch he got to have in the past has come from romance. But when it’s the two of them, it didn’t have to be about that. He can just love someone without all the other stuff.

It was nice. Simple. Easy.

Steve Harrington seems to be learning a lot about non-romantic love those days. The way he was with the kids, his platonic bond with Robin, all these Hawkins moms showing him what familial ties to their kids can look like, even extending some of it to him… He did wish he could get a handle on the romantic kind too, seeing as he felt like he was completely losing interest in it no matter who he was with. But at the end of the day, the non-romantic stuff was pretty nice too.

Those were the kind of thoughts that carried him off to sleep. Robin’s were of a similar vein. Appreciating her best friend’s snarky remarks and comfortable arms as she drifted off. But her mind circled who else she’d like to share a nap with someday. She had thoughts of Vickie, of course. Funny thing is, Vickie wasn’t the only one she considered…

But that was a secret she wouldn’t dare speak of.

The rest of the night was nice. Uneventful. No monsters or phone calls. And when they woke up in the morning, just as was expected, they were both nearly pushed off of the bed by the other in a tangle of limbs and sheets. What they hadn’t expected was the smell of cooking wafting up from the kitchen.

Because Hopper took it upon himself to make breakfast.

God, he was such a dad. A good dad. For a house of way too many kids with shitty dads, he was a good dad.

Robin and Steve shoved against each other as they woke up and muddled their way downstairs, and it didn’t take long for everyone to have gathered to eat. Jim wasn’t very thoughtful about being quiet. The sound of pans on the stovetop wasn't gentle, it was time for everyone to wake up already anyhow. Seeing everyone with bed heads and sleepy eyes around the table was pretty fun. They all ate the array of bacon, sausage, pancakes, waffles, and eggs as Jim whipped them up.

Wasn’t too much later that there was some knocking on Steve’s front door. The five parents were each equipped with a mug of coffee and welcomed into the living room to discuss… everything. Again. It went just about the same as it had with the moms the night before. But this time, Nancy was sure to get all their favorite songs, too.

Karen has apparently always loved Olivia Newton-John and had a particular attachment to ‘I Think I’ll Say Goodbye’. Claudia got stuck between something by The Pointer Sisters or Billy Joel. It was Dustin who said that, because she was borderline in love with Billy, something of his was the safer bet. So she decided on 'Just the Way You Are'. Susan could only think of Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Time After Time’ because of how much Max played it after the Snow Ball. Sue always used Diana Ross songs for her kids' lullabies, ‘Reach Out I’ll Be There’ was her favorite. And Charles always insisted that the song they played for the first dance at their wedding was the best in the world, Stevie Wonder’s ‘My Girl’.

When everyone was settled on the situation most of the kids said they’d head home with their own parents in a bit, except for Lucas who went ahead and rode to the hospital with Steve before they all split off. The two wanted to check on the patients, of course. Susan had to work, but they promised her they’d call if anything happened or after she got off to tell her how Max looked. The boys walked fast past the cameras and got checked in to visit with Max and Eddie before they broke off into the opposite rooms with a plan to check in around lunchtime and eat together if there wasn’t any change in either’s condition.

So Lucas went into Max’s, and Steve turned into Eddie’s room and greeted him as he sat down.

“Sorry, I’m late today. Planned to show up on time, at eight, but those kids’ parents are so talkative. Honestly, you’re lucky you’re missing out on all the discussion that’s happened at my place in the last twelve hours. Turns out every parent in the midwest wants to be on the apocalypse squad. Anyway, sorry I was late. I’m here now for whatever’s on tv today.”

Steve was trying to relax and sit still. He honestly was. But it sucked. Everything sucked, and there was nothing good to watch, so he stood up practically every ten minutes to flip back through the channels on the hospital cable. He sort of wished he was the kind of guy who liked reading. Lucas seemed to enjoy reading that book to Max. They talked about it on the drive over. Lucas was apparently doing different voices for each character and everything. Making a show of it for her. It was sweet.

Steve couldn’t do something like that.

On what was probably his tenth time switching around the channels, he heard something. Something like the sound of fabric moving around a little. And it came from behind him. Where Eddie was.

He turned around, but Eddie wasn’t making any noise. Didn't look like he was stirring. But his face might’ve looked a little different. Like his expression had shifted, just a little bit.

Steve abandoned the unentertaining tv set, carefully sitting back down in the bedside chair,” Eddie?”

And there it was. A scrunch of Eddie’s nose and a sound that made the whole world seem brighter.

“Mmmm…”

That’s all it was. A low, grumbling hum. But it meant he was back. Eddie was back, and they didn’t lose him. Steve didn’t fail in getting him back soon enough.

Steve leaned forward,“ Hey, hey, you coming to?”

Eddie didn’t even open his eyes as he groaned,“ Was I dreaming, or were you kissing on me last night, Harrington?”

The comment pulled what Steve would call a stupid smile across his face, but he smiled all the same. He can’t be too messed up if he’s cracking jokes, right? He rolled his eyes at the other and said, in a purposely somewhat stuck-up tone,“ It’s called performing CPR, Munson, and it was not last night, for the record. But a nurse can tell you all about that, so I’ll go get-”

Eddie turned his head over and opened his eyes to look at Steve, quickly interrupting him with,“ Well, I can’t have been out too long. I see you’re still working on those whiskers, same as I last saw ‘em.”

He’d tried to motion towards Steve’s face, only to find he didn’t get very far with the cuffs. Not what a guy likes to wake up to. At least not in this condition.

“God forbid anyone tries anything around here.” Steve huffed, but sat up to pour some water from the plastic pitcher into the cup with the straw and wordlessly held it up for Eddie to take a sip,” It’s been a couple of days. Four days exactly. Four days since you tried to pull that stupid hero stunt.”

After a gulp to wet his whistle, Eddie let go of the straw and shook his head,“ Stupid hero stunt? Nah, that doesn’t sound like me. I thought we agreed on that.”

“Yeah, I thought we did. I said you and Dustin weren’t allowed to do hero shit, and then look at the mess I find not even an hour later.” Steve sat back and put down the cup.

“Oh, this? This wasn’t hero shit.” Eddie said.

Steve’s eyebrow quirked up,“ Really? It wasn't?”

“It absolutely was not. Because - I’ll remind you - you said, and I quote, ‘Don’t be cute or play hero.' And I agreed not to be a hero. So all this…?”

Steve let a small laugh slip out before he figured,“ This was you being cute, you mean?”

Eddie thought for a second that he’d like to pull a lock of hair in front of his face to play coy. Maybe rattle off some kind of teasing response like “You tell me” or “Did it work?” But the chains pinning his hands to the bedrail insisted he went for a different tactic.

So, instead, he settled for a wolfish grin and a more confident kind of remark,“ Hell yeah, this was me being cute, man.”

Steve shook his head in a way that vaguely reminded Eddie of when Wayne caught him trying to quietly strum his guitar past 3 am back in middle school. Wayne gently scorned him, told him it was a school night and the boy needed to get some sleep. Then he took the instrument and put it on top of the cabinets in the kitchen so he couldn’t reach it. But he hadn’t been mad. It was a kind of amused, faux-disappointment.

Anyway, it’s what Steve looked like as he said,“ It was still stupid. You tried to leave a little early there, you know.”

Eddie shrugged and shifted a little in the bed,“ Wasn’t really trying to. Just thought the light at the end of the tunnel looked pretty nice ‘n all.”

“Yeah, well maybe ignore it a little longer next time. I had kids sobbing all around me because you decided to stop breathing on the way here.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. You think they’ll forgive me for it?” he looked over at Steve with pleading eyes.

“They will when they see you talking again.” Steve started to stand up,” So, I should go get a nur-”

But then Eddie interrupted him again, and pretty sharply too,“ Where are those gremlins at anyway? Can’t believe Steve Harrington is the one bothering to come by this sick guy’s bed.”

Steve got quiet and relaxed back down in the chair.

“Max got hurt real bad, she’s in another room. Hasn’t woken up yet. The kids are with their families trying to figure stuff out. Plan the next move. Hawkins was hit with a lot, so it’s a bit of a shit show all over town. And we’re the crack team here to clean it up.”

“Jesus, what happened?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked,” When the world started shaking, and everything went red while the ground split open?”

“Okay, that rings a bell. But, to be fair, I was bleeding out, man. Shit’s still a little bit fuzzy.” Eddie explained.

Steve nodded knowingly and said,“ Which is why I keep trying to tell you that I should go get a nurse-”

“Do you have to?” Eddie cut in suddenly. And there was something behind the way he said it. Steve couldn’t exactly pin it down, but he didn’t just seem inconvenienced or disinterested.

“They kinda need to look you over. Make sure there isn’t anything else wrong with you, besides the loose screws.”

Eddie turned away a little, and got quieter,“ The second you tell them I’m up… it’s going to be a whole thing, isn’t it?”

And Steve didn’t have an answer.

“It’s going to get crazy, and everything’s going to happen so fast, and it’s… gonna be scary, man...”

That’s what it was. Eddie looked scared. Steve could see it now. It wasn’t like when Eddie was ranting and raving when he’d been freaked out before. This Eddie looked small.

“And once it starts, it’s not going to stop, so just - I don’t know - keep wasting my time and tell me what’s going on before they lock me in a cell and throw away the key,” Eddie asked him.

Steve tried to assure him,“ They aren’t going to-”

Eddie locked his eyes with Steve again,“ Please? Let me have just a little bit longer?”

And Steve just couldn’t say no. Seemed to feel that way a lot those days. Maybe he spends too much time with people whose lives suck so bad he just wants to give them whatever they want.

“A few more minutes. But then an actual, medical professional needs to make sure you won’t croak on us.”

“Deal.”

Steve leaned back in the chair and started,“ Well, the Upside Down was trying to get into this side. In Hawkins, the ground split open and both sides were connected for a bit. The gate cut this huge “X” across the city which was recorded as a huge earthquake. Like record-breaking magnitude getting reported on every news station kind of huge. I mean- City Hall’s gone, the General Hospital took damage, Library is about half rubble right now. Some of the trailers were completely destroyed, including half of yours, and a line was cut through some of the suburbs, not sure how many of those houses came apart, a few of the businesses downtown were demolished, and the others are all closed down anyway… And today’s Monday, by the way, but they’ve got the high school set up as the relief center right now, so there are no classes you’re missing or anything. Like I said, shit show. Everywhere.”

“Sounds like there are a dozen other things you could be doing if you wanted to then. Like resting up yourself. So what’re you doing here? Didn’t think my display, as incredibly cute as it was, woulda been enough to turn your head.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s just a lot quieter here than at my place.” Steve found himself brushing off the fact that he, in fact, had been pretty worried about Eddie the entire time.

“What does that mean?”

Moving right along, he scratched the back of his neck and admitted,“ Uh, it’s a little packed back there right now.”

“Why would your family come to Hawkins now for a reunion?” Eddie assumed.

“Oh, no. Not my family. My folks are over in Washington right now.” And after he said it, he realized he’d just set himself up to explain a little bit more about his family life than he had originally planned to tell someone he just met officially less than two weeks before.

“Washington?” Eddie asked.

And yup, they were going to have this conversation it seemed. Hopefully, Steve can make him lose interest quickly enough,“ Work. Work for my dad, at least. Mom’s just with him to make sure he stays in line.”

And Eddie just looked at him all confused.

“Stays faithful,” Steve hinted.

“Oh. So who is in your house right now?”

“Some of the Byers. Jonathan, Will, and El. And a new guy, Argyle. They all showed up a few days ago. And then we got a shipment of homeless adults in last night too. Joyce and Hop and Murray - speaking of it, turns out Hop is way less dead than we thought. And all the kids crashed there, too. Our party loves sleepovers, it seems…” Steve was lovingly shaking his head when he noticed Eddie’s wide eyes on him,“ What? Those people help save the world all the time. I wasn’t going to just let them sleep on those stiff cots in the high school. It’s a four-bedroom house, might as well put them all to use.”

“And you’re sure the Harrington’s are fine with the fact that their son is passing out their keys like candy on Halloween?” Eddie asked doubtfully.

Steve thought to himself for a moment and admitted a truth he had been trying not to think too much about over the last few weeks,“ I don’t think they’re really planning to come back to Hawkins after all this.”

“Really? Just a couple days and you’re already so sure they’re done with this place...”

“Well, it’s been…” he hummed to himself, putting on an act like he had to actually think about it. Like his mind doesn’t tally every morning he wakes up and his mom and dad are still gone. Like he doesn’t already know he hasn’t seen them for over,” Three months? Yeah, I guess that sounds about right.”

He’d tried to make it seem like some casual thing, hoped he did a better job than he had in front of Joyce the night before, but Eddie didn’t take it as something small,” Three months?”

“Yeah, my dad’s a busy guy, and I’m not a baby anymore. Once I graduated they wasted decidedly less time in Indiana.”

“The town their kid lives in has a serial killer, faces the biggest earthquake the Midwest probably has ever seen, and they don’t come home to check in?” Eddie pushed. While his parents were out of the picture, he couldn’t even imagine Wayne letting him go even a week without seeing him, even if he’d graduated.

“You give Mr. and Mrs. Harrington too much credit.”

“Damn. So you’re fucked up just like the rest of us, huh?”

“The stars; they’re just like you and me.” he ended the line with a wink.

“Jesus. And, not to be self-centered and all about me or anything, but… how is the town with the whole…?”

“The whole… suspecting you of serial murder thing?” Steve finished for him.

“Yeah, that’s the one. How are they doing with that?”

“Well, most people probably still think you did it. But, uh, we’re working on it. Well, Nance and Robin are leading the thing mostly. It’s looking up, believe it or not. They have some strategy, and the cops seemed like they were leaning our way after we gave our statements. They’ll need to take yours, too. But I think we’ll get out of this.” he explained,” But if some guys with a camera crew try to talk to you, call a nurse and get them kicked out. They’ve been crowding the front doors and trying to get into your hospital room for the last few days, apparently.”

“Camera crew?” he wondered, interest piquing.

“A news team from Indianapolis has been trying to do a feature on the ‘Satanic killings that opened a portal to hell in the super cursed small-town’. And a few other fringe groups are looking to stake their big break on your sudden fame too.”

“So…” Eddie considered,” You’re saying this is my chance to shoot to stardom? Quick, I need you to bring my sweetheart, an amp, and a mic. Help me land my career in the big leagues, Harrington.”

Steve stood up and placed a hand on Eddie’s cuffed wrist with a tight smile,“ I absolutely will not.”

Eddie scoffed and tossed his head over at the betrayal.

He let go and started heading for the door as he continued,“ I will, however, make sure a nurse comes in to look you over. I’ll also radio the kids and let them know you’re up. You’re in for a storm of love, you know? Gonna get bruises from all the hugs, I’m telling you.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Eddie called to him as he went into the hall.

And maybe Steve did originally intend to do the responsible thing and get a nurse immediately. But then he thought about Lucas. Someone who was right there already and deserved to see Eddie as soon as possible. So he just walked into the other room instead.

“Hey Lucas, you wanna take a break?” he offered, hanging off the door frame for a second as he stepped inside.

“I don’t need a break from Max. And we said noon, it’s not even eleven o’clock yet.”

“You might not need it,” Steve agreed,” But there’s something across the hall you might want to see.”

Steve thought to himself that part of the reason he wanted Lucas to see Eddie, wasn’t even for Eddie’s sake. It was for Lucas’s. Because he needed to see someone come out of a coma before he convinced himself that Max never would. Steve needed to foster a little bit of hope wherever he could with these kids.

“What?” Lucas questioned.

And instead of dancing around the good news any longer, Steve let the smile break across his face as he told him,“ Eddie’s awake.”

And Lucas all but shot up out of his chair,“ He is?”

“Yeah, he is. I’ll radio everyone else and let ‘em know, but since you’re already here, you can stop by if you want. As long as you call a nurse over after you two have a minute to catch up.” Steve made him agree to do it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucas took a few steps toward him until he froze and looked back at Max,” Will you…?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on Mayfield.” Steve closed the distance between them and clapped Lucas on the shoulder,” Go ahead and try talking to someone who’ll answer for a bit.”

And so they switched places.

Steve sat down in the chair Lucas had been in and picked up the book he set on Max’s sheets. He thought about maybe picking up where the kid left off, but set it back down and decided that wasn’t his thing. His thing seemed to be waxing on emotionally to sleeping people. So he crossed his legs and set himself to try and convince Max to pull through. Even though they figured she wouldn’t until Vecna was dealt with, he still wanted to try a little pep talk.

“Come on, Maxie. You’re the last one now. Can’t believe you let Munson beat you. Would’ve bet good money you were a way faster little punk than he was. So… hurry up, alright. I’ve been told you’re supposed to go to a movie on Friday. Might be patching things up with a certain ex-boyfriend you shoulda never ended things with. I don’t know what Friday you’ll be aiming for at this point. But there’s some cool stuff out right now, if you wait too long there might only be boring stuff screening. And we can’t let you and Lucas get back together with a boring movie. I really would like to see you two happy together, you know? So you need a good one. Make this old man proud and snag him up before some other girl tries to steal him. But you gotta wake up to do that… so, I don’t know, sucker punch Vecna or something and break out of this already. I think you can take him down. Way tougher than anyone else I know. Don't keep me waiting. We need you back.”

[firebirdsdaughter]

Oh no…

… I thought about the horrible romance plot in The Hobbit and now I'm angy.

[voyter]

DEVOTION — jeon jungkook.

genre. a song of ice and fire au. 103 AC. smut. knight!jungkook. queen!reader.

your knight is completely devoted to you, and while it’s his duty, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more behind his unwavering loyalty.

word count. 17.1k words (FUCK i am so sorry) warnings. this fic might be a bit confusing if you havent watched game of thrones or house of the dragon !!! misogyny. gender dynamics. seokjin and namjoon cameo hehe. forced / arranged marriage. over protective jungkook <3. cute convo between oc and her husband. violence. mentions of blood and murder. SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION. smut. two sex scenes !! dry humping. oral (male!receiving). unprotected sex (this universe takes place thousands of years ago and condoms didnt exist yet give me a break). bath sex. they almost get caught OOP. cheating (but both parties are consenting and they both openly do it to each other but they dont love each other romantically so its okay i guess) ???? jungkook literally worships her oh im sick i need him.

ana's notes. this fic ended up being much longer than i anticipated but oh my gosh i literally could NOT STOP WRITING !!! this is the longest fic ive ever written hello. this is inspired by alicent and coles relationship in season 2. sorry i hate them but this trope ??? OUUU TOO GOOD. so you know i got inspired. anyways, i love this one so much, so please let me know your thoughts <3. as always, keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

listening to. blue jeans by lana del rey / middle of the night by elley duhé / flawless by the neighbourhood

part of the based off film series. this one shot is based off house of the dragon.

You had always hated the idea of marrying someone you didn’t love, but you knew that marriage was not a choice — it was an obligation woven into the fabric of your destiny. Though reluctance filled you at first, you gradually came to terms with your duty, accepting the role thrust upon you with a measure of peace.

House Emberwyn ruled the Seven Kingdoms, making them the most powerful house of all. Your father had forged a deep bond with King Aelyx, the two men connected by the shared grief of losing their wives. Beyond their friendship, your father was adamant that uniting your houses through marriage was crucial. He envisioned a future where the intertwining of two powerful, wealthy legacies would forge an unbreakable realm.

Atticus, the son of King Aelyx, was only a year older than you — making him a suitable match. Like you, he was reluctant to marry, but he, too, understood the importance of duty. He wanted nothing more than to make his father proud, even if it meant sacrificing personal desire.

As the sole heirs of your respective houses, the pressure to produce children was immediate. The act of intimacy with Atticus was never one of passion or love; it was merely another duty. The first time was uncomfortable, almost unbearable, but over time, you learned to tolerate it. This was your life now, dictated by duty rather than desire.

Since your marriage, you have been blessed with three children. Ares, your eldest and only son, was conceived during your bedding ceremony. Now a boy of one and ten, he is wise beyond his years, his sharp mind driven by a deep love for books and knowledge. Celeste, your first daughter, is nine years old — a whirlwind of wild, unrestrained energy that seems impossible to contain. Already, she’s been eagerly awaiting the day she can take to the skies on dragonback, her spirit far older than her years. Then there is Luna, your youngest and newest addition to the family, a radiant little soul who brings warmth and light into every corner of your life. She is the calm of the storm, a small but powerful source of joy that never fails to lift your spirits, no matter how heavy the burdens of the day.

Atticus is a good father, never neglecting his children. He is present in their lives, providing for them with steadfast love and care. As a husband, he is kind and dutiful. Yet, despite all his virtues, he is not the love of your life.

The two of you had come to an agreement early in your marriage: you were free to seek pleasure where you wished, as long as heirs were made with each other. It was a compromise, one that allowed you both to navigate the confines of your duty while maintaining some semblance of personal freedom.

Tragedy struck shortly after Celeste’s birth when King Aelyx succumbed to an unknown illness. The crown passed to Atticus, and with it came the immense burden of ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

With Atticus as king, you became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, unlike your husband, you did not feel the same pressure. Your days were mostly spent within the confines of your chambers, where the laughter and antics of your children filled your life with light and purpose. Despite never having known your own mother — she had died giving birth to you — you felt as though motherhood had always been your calling.

While you wouldn’t trade your life for anything in the world, motherhood came with its challenges. Ares and Celeste were at the age where they bickered endlessly over the smallest of things — whether it was toys, attention, or simply to see who could get on your nerves first. Their constant squabbles were a source of frustration, and yet you knew it was a phase they would eventually outgrow. Luna, on the other hand, still so small and newly born, could not seem to stop crying. Her wails often filled the castle, and while the maids were always close by, ready to assist, you never allowed them to. You wanted your daughter to find comfort in your arms, not anyone else’s.

There were days when calming her down felt like a losing battle, the hours stretching into what felt like an eternity. But when you finally succeeded, when her cries quieted and her tiny form melted into sleep, it filled you with a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory in a life full of larger, weightier battles.

Fortunately, today was one of the easier days. Luna wasn’t feeling particularly fussy, and after a few gentle rocks and soft pats on her back, she fell asleep in your arms without much protest. Relief washed over you as you gazed down at her peaceful face, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The soft warmth of her against you, the quiet of the room, made you feel like, for a moment, everything was right.

“Your Grace?”

A voice interrupted your quiet reverie, but you didn’t turn. Your eyes remained fixed on Luna, unwilling to break the fragile serenity of the moment. You hummed in response, acknowledging the speaker but unable to tear your gaze from your sleeping daughter.

“Your presence is wanted, though not required, Your Grace.”

The words draw you from your thoughts, and with a soft sigh, you finally turn to face the speaker. It’s the Lord Commander, standing tall and imposing, his armor catching the dim light filtering through the windows.

“What for?” you ask, your voice calm but laced with curiosity.

“The Kingsguard posting,” he replies, his tone formal, as always. “It’s been suggested that you select who will guard the Red Keep.”

You consider his words, your gaze drifting back to Luna, still fast asleep in your arms. The thought of placing your trust in someone else, of relying on others to protect what matters most, brings a weight to your chest. As a mother, your first instinct is always to shield your children. You would want nothing more than for them to roam the castle freely, knowing they were surrounded by those you trusted — those you handpicked.

“I suppose,” you murmur.

After carefully setting Luna in her crib, you linger for a moment, brushing a tender hand over her soft cheek. Ensuring the maids were nearby to watch over her, you quietly slip from the nursery and follow the Lord Commander through the castle's stone corridors. Your thoughts remain on Luna for a heartbeat longer before shifting to the matter at hand — choosing the knights who would guard your family, your children.

You arrive at the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where a line of knights stands at attention, their armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. The air is crisp, the tension palpable as each knight awaits his turn to be presented.

The Lord Commander steps forward, his voice ringing with authority. "Step forward, Ser Kim Namjoon."

The knight moves with a quiet confidence, offering you a small, almost shy smile. Dimples crease his cheeks, and despite the serious nature of the proceedings, you find yourself smiling back, charmed by the warmth in his expression.

"Ser Namjoon has proved strong and steady in both the tourney lists and in service beyond," the Lord Commander begins. "While traveling through the Kingswood on the way to King’s Landing, Ser Namjoon recently brought a would-be poacher to justice."

You listen carefully, considering the man before you. His loyalty and steadiness are clear, and his recent actions speak of a knight who serves with honor. Still, your mind drifts to a darker, more urgent thought — combat. The Red Keep, and more importantly, your children, needed knights who were not only honorable but battle hardened. In these uncertain times, loyalty alone would not be enough. 

"Ser Namjoon," you say, your voice polite yet measured. "We thank you for your loyal service to the Crown."

He bows deeply before stepping back into line, and you offer him a nod in return, though your thoughts continue to circle around the same question — how many of these knights had seen true combat?

The next knight steps forward, and your gaze narrows as you take him in.

"Ser Kim Seokjin," the Lord Commander announces.

This knight is taller, leaner than Namjoon. He holds himself with a quiet grace, his expression serious, but there's a spark of something beneath the surface — determination perhaps, or ambition.

"Winner of the melee at Cider Hall," the Lord Commander continues. "He was the last mounted of three and twenty knights. Ser Seokjin was knighted at eight and ten."

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by his accomplishments. Yet, your thoughts linger on something more pressing, more crucial to the protection of your family.

"Do any of these knights have combat experience?" you ask, your tone sharper now. "Beyond capturing poachers and winning tourneys?"

The Lord Commander nods solemnly, signaling the next candidate.

“Ser Jeon Jungkook.”

As the name is called, a young knight steps forward, noticeably younger than the others who had come before him. Yet, despite his youth, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence, his steps measured and purposeful. Strands of raven hair fall loosely across his forehead, framing a face that, while youthful, is sharp with focus. His dark eyes meet yours with a steady gaze, neither too bold nor deferent — he stands unshaken by the weight of the moment.

He looks about your age, perhaps even younger, and though he lacks the grizzled scars of a seasoned warrior, something about him immediately draws your attention. There's a natural grace in the way he moves, his armor fitting him perfectly as if he was born to wear it. He’s quite handsome, a fact you can’t help but notice as he stands before you, the light of the setting sun casting a faint glow over his features.

"Tell me, Ser Jungkook," you say, breaking the silence, "have you seen real combat?"

He doesn’t falter, his voice steady as he speaks. "I have, Your Grace. I fought for a year as a foot soldier against the Dornish incursions. I was knighted after we razed two of the watchtowers along the Boneway.”

There is no hesitation in his tone, no embellishment. The quiet intensity of his words, the weight of lived experience behind them, strikes you deeply. His demeanor isn't that of a man seeking glory but of one who has already faced the fire and come out stronger for it. In that moment, your decision feels clear.

“It’s settled.” Your lips curve into a smile, one of certainty and satisfaction. “I choose Ser Jungkook.”

The Lord Commander stiffens slightly, his jaw tensing as though weighing whether to speak. Before you can take a step back toward your chambers, his voice interrupts, filled with respectful hesitation. "Perhaps we shouldn’t be too hasty, Your Grace. There is no doubt Ser Jungkook is a fine warrior, but Ser Namjoon and Ser Seokjin are from houses that are important allies of the Crown."

You turn slowly, your expression cool but firm. The politicking of the court — alliances, the endless exchange of favors and titles — was something you understood all too well. Yet, this was not a matter of alliances. This was the safety of your family, the future of your children. And no amount of courtly maneuvering could change that.

“Those men are tourney knights,” you say, your voice laced with a sharp edge. “My children should be defended by a man who’s known real combat. Should they not?”

The Lord Commander pauses, his gaze flickering between the knights and your unwavering stance. He gives a short bow, conceding. “Of course, Your Grace.”

You nod once, satisfied. “Very well, then,” you say, a smile returning to your face, though this time with a sense of finality. “I expect you to plan Ser Jungkook’s investiture.”

There’s a flicker of something in the Lord Commander’s eyes — perhaps begrudging respect or recognition of your authority in this matter. He bows once more before stepping aside. “As you wish, Your Grace. I will see to it.”

As the days passed, it became clear that your decision to appoint Ser Jungkook was more than justified.

Jungkook proved himself an unwavering presence in the lives of your children. He guarded Ares and Celeste like a loyal hound, always at their side, his dark eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger. Wherever they went — whether it was the training yard where Ares spent hours practicing swordplay or the garden where Celeste attempted to name every flower — Jungkook followed, his sight never leaving them.

In the corridors of the Red Keep, you would often catch glimpses of him, stationed at the door to whatever chamber Ares and Celeste had wandered into, standing with that same quiet intensity that first caught your attention. He never intruded upon their activities, never interfered with their games, but his presence was felt all the same. He was a silent sentinel, ensuring that no one entered or exited a room without his knowledge.

Even the servants and court members began to take note, offering respectful nods as they passed him. There was a certain respect that began to build around Jungkook, not just as a knight, but as a protector of the royal family — of your family.

Before Ser Jungkook’s arrival, the Red Keep had always felt secure. Its towering walls and seasoned guards provided a fortress of safety, a place where danger rarely crossed your mind. Yet, somehow, with Jungkook’s arrival, there was a new, tangible sense of protection. His presence, quiet yet vigilant, added an extra layer of assurance, as if the very air had shifted, growing thicker with safety, steadier with his watchful eye. He didn’t need to speak or make grand gestures; just knowing he was there, standing mere feet away from you, made the castle feel more fortified than it ever had before.

In many ways, he made you feel like that too — protected, even in the smallest, unspoken ways.

The Small Council was always the most grueling part of your day. Despite your title as Queen, you found yourself constantly sidelined, your voice often drowned out by the men who dominated the discussions. You had grown accustomed to their subtle condescension — the way they’d nod and pretend to listen, only to carry on as if your words had never been spoken. You’d learned to expect it, but the sting of dismissal never faded entirely.

And today was no different.

As you took your seat, Jungkook stood nearby, ever the silent sentinel. He’d grown adept at reading you, his dark eyes keenly observing the smallest shift in your demeanor. He noticed how, at first, you entered the room with a composed grace, ready to engage in the matters at hand. But as the meeting dragged on, frustration began to creep in, visible in the slight tightening of your jaw each time a man at the table spoke over you or dismissed your suggestions with a polite but infuriating nod.

Jungkook’s eyes followed the subtle changes — the way your posture stiffened, the soft sigh you tried to suppress, and then, finally, the way boredom started to settle in as you reached for the small stone ball on the table, rolling it between your fingers absentmindedly. He knew you were doing your best to remain patient, but the disrespect weighed heavily in the room.

His hand instinctively twitched at his side, a protective instinct rising within him as he stood there watching. He was ready to intervene if the moment called for it, though he knew better than to step in unless absolutely necessary. Still, his silent support was palpable, a reassuring presence amidst the clamor of men who failed to see the strength in the woman before them.

“Perhaps we should discuss Driftmark, Your Grace,” the Maester began, his voice too casual for the gravity of the subject. He directed his attention toward your husband, but the mention of Driftmark instantly drew you in, pulling you from your growing boredom. You straightened in your seat, the defensiveness in your posture clear.

“What of it?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, the raw emotion behind it hard to suppress. Driftmark wasn’t just a topic for idle conversation — it was family. Personal. The loss of the Lord of the Tides, your cousin’s husband, had been a blow that still lingered, and the aftermath of it weighed heavily on your heart.

He had been more than just family; he had adored your children as if they were his own, even naming your daughter, Celeste, as his heir. It was an honor, though one with its own set of complications. With Ares set to inherit the Iron Throne, Celeste was to inherit Driftmark. Your cousin, devastated by the loss of her husband and without heirs of her own, was to hold the seat in her stead until Celeste came of age.

The Maester’s eyes flickered between you and your husband, clearly aware of the tension in the room but too entrenched in his own position to approach the subject delicately. He cleared his throat, then spoke with a tone that bordered on patronizing. “It’s... a delicate matter, Your Grace. There are those who believe the succession should be reconsidered, given your daughter’s age. Furthermore, some question the wisdom of naming a girl as heir to such a powerful seat.”

Your stomach tightened, fury simmering beneath the surface. A girl. As if Celeste’s age or gender diminished her worth, her potential. You could feel the disdain, not just for your daughter, but for the very idea of a woman wielding such power.

You held the Maester’s gaze, your voice sharp with barely concealed fury. “And do you agree with them?”

The chamber seemed to freeze in that moment, the weight of your words pressing down on everyone in the room. All eyes flickered nervously between you and the Maester, the tension palpable as if even the air had thickened, making it harder to breathe. Everyone braced themselves for the confrontation that was surely coming.

The Maester, sensing the chance to finally reveal his true thoughts, straightened in his seat, his chest puffing out as arrogance replaced caution. He no longer glanced toward your husband for approval; instead, his focus was solely on you, his eyes glinting with condescension.

“A woman on the Driftwood Throne, Your Grace?” he repeated, his voice dripping with condescension. “Forgive my candor, but Driftmark is not some soft and delicate estate. It is a seat of warriors, sailors, men of the sea and battle. Its history is steeped in strength and tradition. To put a mere girl — no matter her bloodline — on that chair is folly, plain and simple. A woman’s place is in the home, tending to hearth and children, not commanding fleets or sitting in council chambers. The late Lord has a brother who would make a fine new Lord, more befitting the legacy.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your hands tightening into fists. “His brother has no desire for rule!” you shot back, your temper dangerously close to boiling over. “Celeste is his rightful heir. It was his wish, and it will not be questioned!”

The Maester, unfazed, continues. “Your Grace… with all due respect, your daughter is but a child. A girl of her age should be concerned with dolls and dresses, not the governance of a seat as vital as Driftmark. There are many in the realm who would argue that Driftmark deserves a stronger hand. A male heir, one capable of steering the course of the future, as tradition demands. Perhaps it is time to reconsider your decision, before it’s too late. Before the realm begins to question not only Driftmark’s future, but the Queen’s judgment as well.”

The insult hung in the air like a storm cloud, casting a heavy, suffocating tension over the room. The audacity — the sheer gall of the Maester to question not only your daughter’s right but your authority as Queen. Fury simmered beneath your composed exterior, your hand twitching as though you might lash out.

But before you could muster a response, Jungkook was already moving.

“You will watch your tongue when speaking to the Queen, Maester,” Jungkook’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, carrying the unmistakable weight of a threat. His usually calm demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more menacing. “Or it shall be taken from you.”

The room seemed to shrink around the Maester, all eyes now on him as the color drained from his face. His earlier arrogance dissolved in an instant, replaced with wide-eyed panic. The man who had dared to question your daughter’s birthright now looked as though he might faint from fear.

“I- I meant no offense, Ser Jungkook,” the Maester stammered, his words tumbling over themselves in a desperate attempt to backpedal. His gaze flickered nervously from you to Jungkook, searching for some kind of escape.

“You did,” Jungkook cut him off sharply, his tone like the edge of a blade. His gaze bore into the Maester, unyielding, unwavering. “And I will remind you once more: mind your tongue.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the threat hanging in the air like a blade, and no one doubted that Jungkook would make good on his promise if pushed further.

You turned your gaze to Jungkook, barely concealing your silent shock. The man who stood just feet away, usually so quiet and composed, always speaking only when spoken to, had stepped in to defend you — boldly, without hesitation. The gesture was unexpected, and for a moment, you were struck by the kindness and protectiveness it held.

It was not just the words he had spoken, but the intensity behind them, the clear signal that he would tolerate no disrespect toward you. In a room full of lords and courtiers who often dismissed your voice, Jungkook’s sudden defense felt like a rare and precious show of loyalty. Uncommon as it was, it left a warmth spreading in your chest, a silent but deeply felt appreciation.

Jungkook still hadn’t met your eyes, his intense gaze fixed on the Maester, the disapproval and disgust etched in his expression radiating an aura so fierce, it was almost frightening. He stood there like a wall of steel, silently daring anyone to challenge him again.

You turned your attention back to the Maester, who now squirmed under the weight of the moment. His once confident, condescending exterior had crumbled, now sitting timidly in his seat.

“Celeste is the rightful heir,” you stated, your voice even and composed, though laced with quiet authority. “She will rule Driftmark, and she will do so just as well as any man ever could. Anyone who questions that,” you paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle over the room, ���will regret it.”

The Maester lowered his head, unable to meet your gaze, his earlier arrogance completely shattered. “Of course, Your Grace. Please, forgive my words.”

Jungkook didn’t move an inch, his focus still locked onto the Maester like a hawk waiting for the slightest wrong move. The room felt smaller, the tension almost suffocating as the Maester’s earlier confidence reduced to a pitiful murmur.

“See that you don’t forget that again,” you said, your tone final and cold, leaving no room for further argument.

With that, you stood up from your seat, the weight of the moment still hanging heavy in the air. Without another word, you turned on your heel and made your way out of the courtroom, every step deliberate, your posture unyielding. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as you moved, a quiet power radiating from you that demanded respect.

Jungkook, as ever, was by your side in an instant, but he kept a respectful distance, just enough to remain a silent protector, his presence still like a shield around you. His footsteps were measured, the sound of his boots echoing softly in the corridors, and yet there was an undeniable sense of security in the space between you two. No words were exchanged as you made your way to your chamber — there was no need for them. His silent solidarity was all you required.

Jungkook’s presence was reassuring, like the calm after a storm, and it made the weight of leadership — of being Queen — just a little easier to bear.

After the heat of earlier’s events, the last thing you wanted was to step foot back into the chaos of the court. The weight of the Maester’s words still lingered in the air, and you felt the need to retreat, to recharge in the only place that felt truly like yours. So, you didn’t leave your chambers for the rest of the day. You took the rare opportunity to unwind, the need for solitude outweighing any further obligations for the day.

Without a second thought, you changed into your nightgown well before the moon rose, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to the tense weight of your court attire. You moved with practiced ease, the familiar ritual of shedding the day’s responsibilities easing the knots in your shoulders. 

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow that danced across the room. You sank into the couch, the cushions molding to your body as you settled in front of the flames. With a book in hand, you opened the pages, the words inviting you into another world — a world where you could forget, if only for a moment, the burdens of being Queen.

You lost yourself in the story, the flicker of the fire keeping time with the rhythm of your reading. Outside your window, the castle was quiet, the usual noise of the corridors muted by the sanctuary of your chamber. For the first time that day, you felt a sense of peace. The world outside could wait. Here, in the comfort of your own space, you could simply be.

But just as the fire’s soft, flickering glow began to lull you deeper into peace, a knock at the door broke the fragile silence, its sound sharp and intrusive. A flicker of annoyance stirred within you — someone daring to interrupt the quiet sanctuary of your evening. But then, a familiar voice, calm and steady, followed.

“Your Grace?”

It’s him.

You took a slow breath, the irritation melting away at the sound of his voice, and called softly, “Come in, Ser Jungkook.”

The door creaked open, but Jungkook didn’t immediately step inside. He stood just beyond the threshold, his tall frame framed by the dim light spilling from the hall, casting long shadows across the stone floor. There was something endearing in the way he paused there, as though uncertain, hesitating to cross the boundary of your private space without your explicit permission. His respect for the sanctity of your chambers was something rare, a simple act that made him stand out even more.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, like the evening air itself. “I’ve just come to alert you that the children are abed.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

What you didn’t know was that the children had been in bed for some time. Jungkook had only alerted you now because he was standing just outside your door, hesitating. He wasn’t sure if he should disturb your peace with the news. Still new to this role, he was uncertain of how to balance his duties with the delicate art of discretion.

“Thank you, Ser Jungkook,” you said, your tone warm with gratitude. “I would appreciate it if you informed me every night from now on.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Sleep well.” Jungkook gave a respectful nod, his voice as steady and sincere as ever, and he turned to leave.

“Ser Jungkook,” you called again, before he could close the door behind him.

He paused, hand resting lightly on the doorframe, his dark eyes meeting yours in the soft, flickering firelight. For a brief moment, the noise of the castle seemed to fall away, the crackling fire the only sound that filled the space between you. It was rare, these moments of true stillness, where it was just the two of you, no interruptions, no duties weighing on either of your shoulders. The warmth from the fire cast a soft glow over him, accentuating the quiet strength in his features.

For the first time, you found yourself truly looking at him — not just the protector of your children, not just the present knight, but Jungkook. 

“I’ve yet to thank you for earlier — in the Small Council chamber,” you said softly, your voice quiet but earnest. “I appreciate your defense. Thank you.”

The words hung between you for a moment, carrying a weight that felt heavier than it should. It wasn’t just the defense itself, though that was significant; it was the quiet way he had stood up for you. Jungkook had always been the silent one, always just there, standing in the background. But today, he had been more. He had spoken when no one else had. His simple act of defending you meant more than you could say.

Jungkook’s posture softened at your words, though his expression remained composed, his usual stoic demeanor intact. Yet, as he held your gaze, his dark eyes seemed to linger a moment longer than usual, a subtle warmth settling in his look that wasn’t often there. It was as though the space between you both had shifted, the heavy tension of the day dissolving into something quieter, almost comforting.

“It was nothing, Your Grace. You need not thank me,” he replied, his voice low and measured, though there was something beneath it — something genuine, almost vulnerable, that made the words feel different from his usual calm, detached responses. His eyes remained steady on yours, and for a moment, the usual distance between you seemed to shrink, as though he was offering something unspoken, something more than just a knight’s duty. “You shouldn’t have to endure that kind of disrespect. It’s my duty to protect you, in all ways.”

You gave a soft nod, absorbing the weight of his words. Jungkook was a constant in your life — a silent guardian who stood watch over both your children and yourself. But hearing him speak of protecting you in such a way, so plainly and honestly, stirred something within you. It wasn’t just your children that mattered to him; it was you, as well. 

“You do more than protect,” you said, your voice softer now, the weariness of the day gradually easing. “Your actions today… they meant more than you know.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched at the corners, acknowledging your words, but he didn’t respond right away. There was a brief silence between you both, the fire’s crackling embers filling the stillness as he shifted his weight, his stance still as rigid as ever, but now, a slight tension in his shoulders had eased.

“If there’s ever anything you need, Your Grace,” he said finally, his tone softer than it had been moments before, but with an underlying firmness that conveyed his commitment, “I am here.”

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around you like a quiet promise, steady and unwavering. The light of the fire caught on his features, casting soft shadows over his face, making his usually guarded expression seem less distant, more human. You felt a sense of peace settling into the space between you both, a momentary connection that felt more genuine than anything that had passed between you in the public eye.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, finding comfort in the rare, honest exchange.

Jungkook inclined his head once more, his expression softening in a way that was unusual for him — a small, but genuine smile curling his lips, the warmth of it making him seem more approachable, more... real.

“Goodnight, Your Grace,” he said quietly, voice full of respect, but also something else — something deeper.

“Goodnight, Ser Jungkook,” you murmured in return.

With that, he turned and moved to close the door behind him, the soft click of the latch signaling his departure. But as the door clicked shut, you realized that this time, you didn’t feel the usual solitude. There was something different. Something comforting. Something exciting that made the pit of your stomach feel funny, in knowing he was standing just outside your door.

Just the barrier of wood between you two.

The next day unfolded much more peacefully than the last. 

You sat on the floor of your chamber, the luxurious fabric of your gown pooling around you like a soft sea of silk. The quiet of the room was comforting as you focused on the delicate task in front of you — embroidering a blanket for Luna. Each stitch was a calming motion, your mind momentarily free of the weight of royal duties. 

You hadn’t seen Jungkook yet, but his presence lingered in your thoughts, like an unspoken promise. The anticipation of his arrival stirred a quiet excitement within you, though you had no idea when he might appear. 

The silence was broken by your husband's voice, cutting through the peaceful air as he entered without knocking, his tone casual. “How are you feeling today?”

You glanced up briefly, meeting his eyes before returning to your work. “Better,” you answered, the edges of your lips curving into a faint smile.

“Good,” Atticus replied, smirking as he made his way over to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. “Do you think you’ll be attending the Small Council today?”

You hesitated, the thought of sitting through another long, tedious session filling you with a quiet reluctance. “No… if that’s alright?” you replied, your tone tentative, not wanting to seem too dismissive of his suggestion.

“Of course,” Atticus said, lifting the goblet to his lips. His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he added, “But I’ll have you know, I’ve hired a new Maester.”

The words hit you like a spark, and without thinking, you put your needle down. The sudden shift in the conversation caught your attention fully. Your eyes locked onto him, eyebrows raised in surprise. The idea of a new Maester was unexpected — and it immediately piqued your curiosity.

"Are you upset about that?" you asked, your voice soft and laced with a hint of apology, eyes searching his face for any sign of how he truly felt.

Atticus paused, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. His lips curled into a knowing smirk, and he set the goblet down gently on the table. "I could never be upset with you for only standing up for yourself," he said, his voice steady, though there was an underlying heat to his words. "And someone as disrespectful as that will not continue to walk around in this castle."

His declaration was resolute, filled with a quiet determination. The confidence in his voice was not just from his position, but from a place of deep respect for you. It was as if he had taken the full weight of your frustration upon himself, and the fire behind his words showed that he would do whatever it took to ensure you never had to endure such treatment again. 

You smile warmly at his words. "Thank you, Atticus."

He pauses, a small smile tugging at his lips, his fingers tapping idly on the edge of the table. "You know, as much as I’m not in love with you," he says slowly, his tone more thoughtful than usual, "I still love you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, the raw honesty in his voice bringing a quiet comfort. It wasn't the passionate declaration of romance you might have hoped for, but it was the kind of love that ran deep — steady, consistent, unshakable. 

You meet his gaze, and your heart softens with understanding. "As do I," you reply, your voice gentle but genuine. 

It wasn’t the kind of love that others might expect, filled with grand gestures and whispered sweet nothings. But in its own way, it was a love that had stood the test of time. It isn’t passionate, but there’s a respect and understanding between the two of you that runs deep.

“Now,” Atticus says, his voice low, teasing. “Can we talk about your knight in shining armor?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smirk that tugs at your lips. “Oh Gods,” you say, the edge of amusement clear in your voice as you go back to your needlework.

“Oh, come on,” he whines, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “I let you pick, now you have to tell me all about him!”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “It was you who suggested I pick?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I thought you’d feel more content choosing someone yourself.”

“I do,” you reply with a small smile, returning to your embroidery. “It was a wise suggestion.”

“Oh, don’t change the subject now!” He motions with a dramatic hand. “What was that about yesterday?”

“He was just defending me,” you say, hoping to dismiss the conversation, though you’re well aware it won’t be that easy.

Atticus lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes in dramatic fashion. “No knight is that devoted to duty, my dear wife.”

His words make you pause, but you try not to let it show. Still, a smile begins to creep onto your lips, unbidden. You hadn’t really allowed yourself to think about it that way. Jungkook had always been quiet, loyal, reliable — but devoted in the way Atticus is hinting? It’s a thought that stirs something unexpected in you.

“Well, believe it or not,” you say, unable to stop the small grin now, “we’ve spoken to each other only a few times.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, clearly entertained. “Is that so? And yet, with little words between you, he’s ready to challenge a room full of lords for your honor. Fascinating.”

You roll your eyes, returning to your needlework in an attempt to focus, but your mind can’t help but drift back to Jungkook. The memory of his voice, steady and unyielding as he defended you, lingers. Maybe Atticus has a point, but admitting that would only fuel his relentless teasing.

“He’s just dutiful,” you insist, though even you can hear the uncertainty creeping into your voice. 

Atticus catches it too, and his smirk widens as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet. “Dutiful because he loves his duty? Or because of you?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, the warmth creeping up your neck as you try to brush off the insinuation. “You’re reading into this too much,” you mumble, focusing on the embroidery in your lap, though your needlework suddenly seems less interesting.

“Am I?” Atticus drawls, stepping closer, his tone playful but probing. “Did you solely choose him because of his skills?”

You glance up at him briefly, trying to suppress a smile. “Are you implying something?”

He shrugs, the smirk on his lips widening. “Well, did you?”

“I did!” you exclaim, the words tumbling out a little too quickly, as if you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. You glance up at Atticus, catching the amused gleam in his eyes. “He’s excellent with the children, and he strikes the perfect balance around here — intimidating enough to make it clear no one should challenge him, but not so much that the children are frightened. I trust him completely, and I’ve only known him a short while.”

Atticus hums, swirling the wine in his goblet with deliberate slowness before taking a sip, his skepticism apparent in the slight arch of his brow.

You shake your head, sighing lightly. “He’s proven his worth,” you say, trying to sound firm, though the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips betrays you. “It’s his abilities that matter.”

Atticus grins, thoroughly enjoying this exchange. “Of course, his abilities. And it’s just a coincidence that the knight you trust with our children’s safety also happens to be rather… easy on the eyes?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, though the warmth spreading through your chest betrays your amusement. “His appearance has nothing to do with why I chose him,” you insist, though your tone has lost its edge, becoming playful and light. “He’s capable, loyal, and vigilant. His looks are irrelevant.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. “Irrelevant, but not unnoticed?”

You shoot him a mock glare, though the smile tugging at your lips makes it hard to maintain any seriousness. “You’re impossible,” you say with a shake of your head. “I care about his skills and nothing more.”

Atticus chuckles softly, clearly entertained. “We shall see,” he teases, his voice lingering in the air as he begins to make his exit. His steps are slow, unhurried, as though he’s savoring the moment. 

He walks out with a lightness in his stride, and the faint echo of his laughter trails behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts — and the quiet, unsettling realization that maybe, just maybe, his words weren’t entirely off the mark.

Returning to the Small Council felt different this time. The atmosphere had shifted. The men were more considerate, actually taking your opinions into account — a stark contrast to their usual dismissiveness. It seemed Atticus’ harsh punishment of the last Maester had sent a clear message: disrespect would no longer be tolerated. They were treading carefully now, not wanting to find themselves in a similar predicament.

You exhaled a long breath as you walked into your chamber, ready to unwind after the tense day. Removing your jewelry, you placed each piece delicately on the table, the soft clink of metal filling the otherwise quiet room. You went to bend down to slip off your shoes, eager for the relief of the cool floor beneath your feet.

But before you could, a sharp point suddenly pressed against your neck.

You froze.

Panic surged through you as the cold blade pressed harder against your skin, the world around you narrowing to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“Don’t scream,” a low voice hissed in your ear, breath hot against your skin, “or you will die.”

Your breath hitched, the threat sinking in, terror flooding your veins. Tears welled in your eyes as helplessness gripped you. You had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly at the mercy of another.

The man spun you around with a jerk, and your gaze landed on another figure lurking in the shadows — both were dressed in the rough, dirt stained garb of rat catchers, but their eyes gleamed with intent far darker than pest control.

“We were paid to kill the little girl,” the man growled, his eyes boring into yours with malicious purpose. “The one who is set to inherit Driftmark. Where is she?”

Your heart stopped. They wanted Celeste. Your daughter. 

Desperation clawed at your insides, but you forced yourself to remain calm, though your voice trembled as you spoke. “I have many things in here of great value,” you said, your mind racing to stall, to buy any time you could. “You can take whatever you want. Jewelry, gold…”

The man sneered, pressing the blade just a fraction closer, enough to make your skin prickle with fear. “We’re not here for trinkets,” he spat. “We’re here for the girl.”

The suffocating pressure eased as the man shoved you away, though he kept his dagger trained on you, its sharp point a constant threat.

“Lead us to her,” he snarled, “and you will live.”

Your pulse quickened, panic rising. But amid the terror, you clung to one thought: Jungkook was just outside, standing guard by the children’s room. He would protect Celeste.

Heart pounding, you forced your legs to move, stepping cautiously toward the door of your chamber. The rat catchers followed closely, one of them pressing the dagger against your back, a constant reminder of the danger lurking just inches away.

By the time you reached the door, your eyes caught a glimpse of movement. Jungkook — his back against the wood, waiting, ready. His gaze met yours, and in that brief moment, you felt a surge of relief, but it was fleeting.

Before you could react, Jungkook sprang into action. In a heartbeat, he grabbed your arm and yanked you behind him, shielding you with his body. You stumbled backward, watching in awe as he unsheathed his sword with deadly precision. 

Jungkook wasted no time. His blade sank deep into the stomach of the first rat catcher, a sickening thud echoing in the hallway. The man gasped, blood spurting from the wound, and crumpled to the floor.

The second assailant, wild with desperation, swung his dagger wildly at Jungkook. But Jungkook moved with lethal grace, dodging each strike effortlessly. His movements were swift, controlled, each step calculated. In one fluid motion, he caught the man's wrist mid swing, twisting it with a force that made the man cry out in pain. Jungkook’s grip tightened, and with a brutal efficiency, he forced the attacker to plunge the dagger into his own abdomen.

The man’s eyes widened in shock, the weapon lodged deep within him, his strength faltering. Jungkook released him, and the second rat catcher staggered before collapsing to the ground beside his companion, both of them now lying in pools of their own blood.

In shock, you stood frozen, tears welling in your eyes as the reality of the moment crashed over you. Only a minute ago, you had feared for your life, for your family’s lives. And now, Jungkook had effortlessly put an end to the rat catchers, his blade on the ground still stained with their blood. It all felt too surreal, too close.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Jungkook rushed to you, his expression softening with concern. He cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch grounding you. “Your Grace? Are you hurt?” His voice was low but urgent, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury.

You shook your head, still unable to find your voice, too overwhelmed by everything. Your heart pounded, your throat tight as you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispered, his thumbs brushing tenderly across your cheeks. “Everything’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. The fear, the relief, the gratitude — they all hit you at once, overwhelming your senses. And before you knew it, your emotions spilled over. You erupted into sobs, throwing your arms around Jungkook’s neck, seeking the warmth and safety of his presence. You buried your face into his skin, your tears dripping onto his armor as you cried.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate for a second. His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him, his strength and warmth offering the comfort you so desperately needed. One of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your back while the other cradled your head, pressing you gently against his chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong, was the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the chaos of your emotions.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soft and calming. “You’re safe now.”

And in that moment, in his arms, you believed him.

After Atticus learned about the rat catchers’ attack, his fury was swift and intense, shaking the very walls of the Red Keep. His voice thundered from the Small Council chamber, echoing through the halls as he took command of the situation. His anger wasn’t just justified — it was terrifying. No one dared stand in his way as he set out to make sure something like this could never happen again.

You sat in your children’s room, seeking comfort in their innocent presence. Even as you tried to calm your racing heart, the distant roar of Atticus’s orders only heightened the gravity of what had nearly occurred. He wasted no time doubling the guard, placing knights at every vulnerable corner of the Keep. The added protection was meant to reassure, but for you, it only underscored the severity of the danger that had almost taken your daughter.

Atticus was relentless in his pursuit of justice. He immediately dispatched his men to find out who had hired the rat catchers. It wasn’t long before the truth came out — your former Maester hadn’t been acting alone. There were more, many more, who shared his poisonous view that Celeste, your little girl, had no right to inherit Driftmark. These men, clinging to their outdated belief that only a man should rule, had conspired to end her life before she could ever sit upon the Driftwood Throne.

Those who were caught speaking against Celeste’s claim were dealt with harshly. Atticus showed no mercy. He threw them in the dungeons without a second thought, ensuring that any who dared oppose your daughter’s future would be silenced. In this, he was steadfast, and you were grateful for his fierce protection of your family.

But even with the threat supposedly contained, the fear hadn’t left you. That night still clung to you like a dark shadow, creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. The memory of those men — of their knives and their cruel threats — replayed in your mind every night, a loop you couldn’t break free from. 

Sleep was becoming harder to find. You would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the attack pressing down on your chest. Even with Jungkook stationed just outside your door, standing as your silent guardian, the sense of unease never fully faded. You trusted him more than anyone now, knowing he had saved you without hesitation, but your mind couldn’t silence the what ifs. What if something happened to him? What if the guards missed something? What if they came back?

Tonight was no different. The room was quiet, your children safe in their beds, but your thoughts raced. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind outside felt like a reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. You sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to calm the storm within. 

Jungkook was right outside the door — so close, and yet, the fear lingered. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but that night had changed everything. The vulnerability, the terror, had been too real, and you couldn’t just forget it. Even though the Red Keep was locked down, even though Atticus had done everything in his power to keep you safe, you were haunted by the thought that danger still lurked just out of sight.

You couldn’t sleep. The quiet room, the stillness, your own thoughts circling endlessly — it was too much. You knew that tonight, like so many others, you’d be awake until the sun rose. So, with a sigh, you slipped out of bed, crossed the room, and quietly opened the door.

And there he was.

Jungkook stood just outside, his back to you, ever vigilant. When the door creaked softly, he turned, eyes meeting yours. In the faint light of the moon, his features were softened, yet his gaze was alert, concerned. The gleam in his eyes caught the moonlight, and for just a moment, the comfort of his presence made the world feel a little less daunting.

“Your Grace?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I thought you’d be abed by now.”

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice quiet but laden with the weight of sleepless nights and endless worry.

“You’re safe now,” he said gently, his tone firm yet soothing, as if trying to will your mind to find peace. “Allow yourself to rest.”

You managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You said you’d be here if I ever needed anything.”

His brows furrowed slightly as he nodded, understanding your unspoken request. “I did.”

You hesitated only briefly before speaking again, your voice softer now. “Can you come in?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he straightened. “Your Grace, I hardly think that is appropriate,” he replied, though his tone was more uncertain than firm. His sense of duty and propriety clashed visibly with his desire to help you.

“It will comfort me,” you said, the vulnerability in your voice enough to make him falter.

He hesitated, clearly torn. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword as if it could ground him in the face of your request. His loyalty to you was absolute, but the boundaries of it were something he grappled with now.

Seeing his hesitation, you added, teasing softly, “Your Queen demands you.”

That earned you a small smile, one that softened the tension in the air. Jungkook shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he conceded. “Well, who am I to deny my Queen?” he said, stepping past the threshold.

As Jungkook entered the room, his mere presence brought with it a sense of security you hadn’t even realized you’d been yearning for. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of concern and quiet understanding, as you led him over to the couch by the fireplace. 

You settled yourself on one side, pulling a blanket over your legs as you crossed them beneath its warmth. When you glanced up, you noticed he hadn’t joined you yet. Instead, he stood a little distance away, unsure, his posture stiff as if still on duty.

“Sit,” you gestured to the empty space beside you.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to the door as if he still wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do. But your gentle command was enough to sway him. With a slight nod, he moved closer, his heavy footsteps softening as he reached the couch. Just as he was about to sit, you spoke again, your voice quiet but firm.

“Take off your armor.”

He froze, eyes wide as if caught off guard by your request. “Your Grace,” he said slowly, his tone almost a warning, a reminder of the boundary he believed needed to remain in place.

But you shook your head, your expression soft but insistent. “I don’t want you here as Ser Jungkook,” you explained, your voice carrying a vulnerability you hadn’t meant to reveal. “I want you here just as Jungkook.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, clearly torn between his sense of duty and the comfort you were asking for. But then, with a slow exhale, he began to unfasten the clasps of his armor, the metallic clinks filling the otherwise quiet room. Piece by piece, the weight of it fell away, and he set it aside, each movement careful and deliberate.

Jungkook looked at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips as he gestured to his cloak. "If you would," he said softly, his eyes warm but with a hint of playful mischief.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a bit lighter as you stood from the couch, the blanket slipping from your lap and pooling onto the floor. Your fingers brushed against his as you reached for the clasp of his cloak, feeling the cool metal as you carefully undid it. The fabric was thick and heavy, and as you pulled it off his shoulders, it seemed to take with it some of the invisible barrier he kept between you both.

The air between you felt different now, more intimate, as you set his cloak aside with the rest of his armor. When you turned back to face him, he was watching you closely, his expression softer than before, as if seeing you in a new light.

For a second, you just stood there, gazing at each other in the soft glow of the fire.

Now, without the weight of his armor, Jungkook looked more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, though there was still a quiet alertness in his posture. When you invited him to sit, he did so without hesitation this time, his expression softening as he settled next to you on the couch.

As the fire crackled gently beside you, casting a warm glow over the room, you found yourself seeing him differently. Here, sitting in your chambers, with the walls of duty momentarily lowered, Jungkook wasn’t just your knight anymore. He was a man — kind, steady, and unexpectedly gentle in his presence.

“I’ve not been able to sleep as of late,” you admitted, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you intended. “But with you here... I feel safe.”

Jungkook’s smile was soft, a flicker of warmth that reached his eyes. “I’m happy to hear that,” he said, though his voice was still laced with the respectful formality he always carried. “Your Grace.”

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke your name, more firmly this time. “Use my name. The formalities can stay with your armor… Jungkook.”

The moment hung between you, quiet but significant. When he repeated your name, his voice was different, softer, almost intimate. It felt personal, as if you were the only thing that mattered in this room, in this moment.

Your heart fluttered hearing your name on his lips. The way he said it felt more intimate than you’d expected, and as the quiet settled around you both, you realized the walls between you were coming down even more.

“My mother died when I was four and ten,” Jungkook begins, his voice steady but carrying the weight of years of grief. “She was murdered right in front of me. I was weak, untrained... I couldn’t help her. I just stood there, frozen, and I couldn’t save her.” He pauses, his gaze distant, lost in the painful memory. “When I left the children’s chamber to go guard yours and I saw those rat catchers in there… I knew I couldn’t let you down like I did my mother. I couldn’t let that happen again.”

Your heart clenches and your brows knit in sorrow, completely torn by his story. His words hang heavy in the air, the realization of his past weighing on your chest. You feel both gratitude and guilt — glad that Jungkook trusts you enough to open up, yet heartbroken by the trauma he’s lived through.

It suddenly makes sense — why he’s always so guarded, so precise, so fiercely loyal. You understand now why he was trained in combat at such a young age, why he’s so vigilant, and why he holds himself to such a high standard. His devotion to you, his protection of your family, it all stems from a promise he made to himself long ago, a promise born from tragedy.

You reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm resting on the back of the couch, your touch warm and comforting. Jungkook’s gaze flickers to where your hand rests on his arm, and then back to your face, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“You’ve done well to uphold that promise,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. As your eyes meet his, you offer him a genuine smile, hoping it conveys the compassion you feel. “Your mother would love the man you’ve grown to be, Jungkook.”

For a brief moment, Jungkook’s eyes soften, his usual stoic expression breaking. He looks almost vulnerable, as if the weight he carries is shared, if only for a second.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I find myself very… protective over you.”

You tilt your head slightly, a teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips. The soft glow of the fire casts a warm light over your face, and your eyes seem to shimmer with curiosity. “Why is that?” you ask, a playful lilt to your tone as you watch him.

Jungkook hesitates for a beat, his dark eyes holding yours. He slowly pulls his arm away, the loss of contact leaving your skin colder than you expected. But before you can fully miss the warmth, you feel the feather light touch of his fingertips brushing down your arm. His touch is slow, deliberate, sending a tingling sensation across your skin, awakening something inside you.

Your breath catches as his fingers trail lower, the gentle path they take igniting a flutter in your chest. When his hand finally finds yours, his touch is warm and firm, his fingers lacing with yours like it was meant to be all along.

Jungkook looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over the back of your hand as if testing the waters. “It’s more than duty now,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with something deeper. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability there, something raw and unguarded. “I can’t explain it fully, but… it’s like you’ve become more than just someone I’m sworn to protect.”

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for a reaction, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you — curiosity, anticipation, and something that feels dangerously close to longing.

Your lips part slightly, your heart hammering in your chest as the room feels smaller, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. “More than duty?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten just a little around yours, grounding you in the moment. His eyes soften, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes… much more than duty,” he says, his voice tender yet filled with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but all you can focus on is him — on the warmth of his hand, the depth in his gaze, and the way the space between you seems to shrink with each passing second.

With his fingers still interlaced with yours, Jungkook gently pulls you closer. The sudden shift brings you nearer to him, and you let out a soft giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as you blush under his gaze. The warmth of his body, the way his eyes are fixed on you — it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

As the distance between you vanishes, your breath catches when you realize his gaze is locked on your lips. It’s intense, and it makes your heart race. You watch, spellbound, as he lifts his other hand slowly. His thumb brushes tenderly across your bottom lip, the pad of his finger soft against your skin. The simple, teasing touch sends a wave of warmth washing over you.

He lingers there for a moment, rubbing your lip, and then his thumb presses just a little more insistently, grazing the slit of your mouth as though silently asking for permission. The unspoken question in his eyes makes your pulse quicken, and you instinctively part your lips in response. His thumb slips inside, and you close your mouth gently around it, letting him in.

Your eyes remain on him as his thumb rests against your tongue, the sensation both intimate and electrifying. The fire crackles in the background, but the world feels muted, like it’s just you and him in this moment. Your heart pounds, and the connection between you grows stronger as you suck lightly on his digit.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes slightly uneven as he watches you, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more primal. He gently withdraws his thumb, his fingers now tracing the curve of your jaw, his touch both firm and tender. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

The air between you is thick with anticipation, the moment heavy with the promise of what’s to come. His forehead rests against yours, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop.

“We should stop before things go further,” Jungkook whispers, his voice low and husky, the warmth of his breath tickling your lips as he gives you the chance to pull away.

You pause, your heart racing in your chest. “We should,” you whisper back, the words lingering in the air between you both.

But neither of you move.

Instead, your gaze remains locked on his, and you can feel the heat radiating between you, the unspoken desire that lingers in the small space that still separates you.

And just like that, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is electric, his lips soft yet insistent as they press against yours. It’s slow at first, a tentative exploration, but the moment your mouths meet, everything else fades into the background.

As your lips remain locked with his, you straddle his lap, the movement seamless and natural, as if you’ve both been leading up to this moment for far too long. Your hands slide behind his head, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss grows more heated, more desperate.

Jungkook’s hands find your waist, gripping you firmly, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips as you press yourself against him, your hips moving instinctively. A soft gasp escapes your lips when you feel the hardness beneath you, his cock straining against the fabric of his breeches, the friction making you yearn for more.

Your hips begin to buck slowly, grinding against him as you search for more contact, more release. The heat between you two is palpable now, your breath mingling with his as the kiss deepens, tongues tangling in a rhythm that matches the slow, steady roll of your hips. Every shift of your body sends a wave of pleasure through you, and you can feel his grip tighten on your waist, his breathing growing heavier.

Jungkook lets out a low groan against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, igniting something primal. You can feel the restraint he’s holding onto, the tension in his body as he struggles to keep control, but the way his hands grip your waist tells you he’s just as lost in the moment as you are.

The friction between you both builds, the heat intensifying, but the layers of fabric between you only heighten the desire, making you ache for more.

“Perhaps I should thank you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and teasing as your hips roll against him, causing a deep groan to escape from Jungkook’s throat. You can feel him hardening beneath you, his body responding despite his attempts to maintain composure. “For your service…”

His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your sides just enough to make you feel how much he’s holding back. “It is only my mere duty,” he says, voice strained, each word laced with barely controlled desire.

You smile at his restraint, your lips moving to brush against the sharp line of his jaw. “You’ve done so much,” you murmur, your lips trailing lower, leaving a warm path down his neck, just beneath his jaw. His skin is soft and warm, and his pulse races beneath your touch. You hear his breath catch as you kiss along his collarbone, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate press of your lips. “For me…” You move lower, your kisses more intentional, feeling his chest rise and fall more rapidly under your touch. “For my children…”

His hands twitch on your hips, torn between pulling you closer and letting you continue your slow, torturous descent. When you glance up at him, you see the way his dark eyes watch your every movement, clouded with need, a silent plea for more even as he struggles to keep himself grounded.

"I think you deserve a reward," you whisper, your voice sultry, teasing as your lips hover just above the edge of his tunic. Your fingers slowly, deliberately trace the hem, brushing against his heated skin as you make him wait, drawing out the anticipation.

Jungkook's head falls back, his lips parted as he releases a shaky breath, his control slipping with every passing second. His voice is a low growl, thick with longing. “You owe me nothing,”

You shake your head softly, your lips grazing the exposed skin of his chest. “I owe you everything,” you whisper back, your voice filled with sincerity and seduction, the intensity of the moment building as your hand moves lower, testing the boundaries of his restraint.

His body tenses beneath your touch, but his hands stay firm on your hips, holding you against him as if he’s afraid to let go. His eyes meet yours again, dark and full of raw emotion, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “I am yours,” he breathes, and in that moment, you know that he means every word.

With a soft smile playing on your lips, you slowly lift yourself off his lap, feeling the tension in the air as you lower yourself to the ground, kneeling between his legs. Jungkook watches you closely, his breathing uneven, eyes darkened with a mix of anticipation and restraint.

You place your hands gently on his thighs, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric of his breeches, his muscles tense beneath your touch. You start slow, allowing the moment to settle between you, your fingers tracing soft, deliberate circles along his thighs, teasing without rushing. Jungkook’s breath hitches slightly, his gaze locked on your every movement, as if entranced by the sight of you at his feet.

With a deliberate slowness, you begin to untie the laces of his breeches, savoring the quiet rustling of fabric as you pull them off completely, your fingertips brushing against his skin, making him shiver. You take your time, your eyes never leaving his, a playful gleam in your gaze as you watch his resolve crumble little by little.

His cock springs free, finally released from its tight confines. Jungkook lets out a low groan, the sudden release of tension sending a wave of relief through him. The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your breath catch, but you don’t rush. Instead, you rest your hands on his thighs again, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin, feeling the subtle flex of his muscles beneath your palms.

You glance up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sends a thrill down your spine. His lips are parted, his breath heavy, and you can see the restraint in the way he grips the couch, knuckles white, fighting the urge to take control.

You spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock, feeling its warmth and weight resting in your palm. You start slow, allowing him to adjust to the sensation, your fingers curling around him with a firm but careful grip. As your hand begins to move, sliding up and down in deliberate, teasing strokes, Jungkook's head falls back against the couch. A low, breathy moan escapes his parted lips, his chest rising and falling more heavily with each breath, betraying his struggle to hold onto his composure under your touch. His muscles tense, eyes fluttering shut, as the pleasure builds with each movement.

His reaction fuels you, and you keep your pace slow and sensual, your hand gliding smoothly along his length. Each movement draws another sound from him — whether it’s a quiet sigh, a deep groan, or the way his breathing catches for a split second. The power you hold in this moment, the way his body responds to your touch, makes the air between you feel electric, alive with tension.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into the cushions beside him, as if holding on for control, but you can see the way his restraint is unraveling, bit by bit. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parted in silent bliss, eyes closed as he surrenders to the sensation.

With a mischievous smile, you tighten your grip just a little, adding the slightest bit more pressure as you continue to stroke him, and his moan deepens, sending a shiver through you.

You lean in, teasingly slow, letting the anticipation build. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he watches you, his chest rising and falling faster, his hands tightening into fists. The moment your tongue makes contact with the tip of his cock, his body tenses. You start with soft, delicate kitten licks, testing his sensitivity, letting him feel every light flick of your tongue as you work.

A bead of precum gathers at the tip, and you lap it up, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. Jungkook’s groan is deep, almost guttural, his head tipping back against the couch once more as you tease him with your soft licks, never giving him more than just a taste of what’s to come.

The way he reacts, the way his body trembles under your touch, only spurs you on. You take your time, savoring the control you have over him, feeling the way his thighs tense beneath your hands.

You glance up at him through your lashes, enjoying the sight of Jungkook completely lost in the moment, his lips parted, breath heavy. His reaction fuels your desire to tease him more. Your tongue moves slowly, deliberately, swirling around his sensitive tip, while your hand continues its steady rhythm, pumping him with just enough pressure to keep him on edge.

He moans again, low and deep, his hips instinctively bucking up, searching for more of that friction you’re so teasingly withholding. You hum softly, the vibrations making his cock twitch against your tongue. You take him a little deeper, wrapping your lips around the head, sucking gently as you let your hand pump the base, building the tension.

Jungkook’s hands grip the couch tightly, fighting to stay still, his body betraying him with every small thrust of his hips. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, your tongue working against the underside of his shaft as you slide him further into your mouth. His response is immediate — his body jerks, a strangled groan escapes him, and you feel his hands twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to reach out and grab you.

You reach up and intertwine your fingers with his, and in that simple gesture, a new layer of intimacy blooms between you. His grip is firm, almost desperate, as if holding your hand is the one thing grounding him in the intensity of the moment. It's no longer just about desire; it's something deeper, more vulnerable, a connection that transcends the physical. His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, a soft, tender contrast to the raw passion swirling around you. That small touch, full of unspoken emotion, speaks louder than words ever could, reminding you both that this is more than just a fleeting moment — it’s a quiet, shared promise.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes even more ragged as you continue to take him deeper, your lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to push him closer to the edge. You can feel his restraint, the way he’s holding back, trying to stay in control despite the pleasure coursing through him.

He groans, your name slipping from his lips in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You hum softly in response, the vibrations causing another moan to escape his lips. The combination of his hand in yours, his soft gasps, and the warmth of his skin beneath your touch creates an almost overwhelming sense of connection.

You pull off him with a soft, wet pop, leaving his cock glistening in the firelight. Your lips curve into a teasing smile as you drag your tongue slowly along the length of his shaft, watching his reaction. Jungkook’s breath catches, his body tensing with anticipation. When you reach his base, you let your tongue dip lower, tracing a path to his balls. You take your time, licking and teasing the sensitive skin before gently sucking them into your mouth.

The reaction is immediate — his hips jerk up involuntarily, a deep moan escaping him as his head falls back against the couch. His knuckles are white as he grips the cushions, and his fingers tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment. You keep your eyes on him, enjoying the way his face contorts with pleasure, his lips parting with a shuddering breath.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice rough and strained, the sound vibrating through the air, sending a thrill through you. His chest rises and falls heavily as you continue to pump his cock in your hand, your strokes slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm of your mouth as you suck gently on his balls.

You can feel the tension building in him, his body trembling slightly under your touch. His muscles are taut, straining as he tries to hold himself back, but you know he’s close. The soft, breathless curses he murmurs between groans let you know just how much you're driving him to the edge.

Jungkook’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more intoxicating than the last. The feel of your mouth wrapped around his cock is overwhelming, your lips warm and slick as they glide over him, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. But what makes his pulse race even more is the sight of you — the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms — on your knees before him, your eyes dark with desire, lips wet and swollen as you take him deeper.

He can barely process it. A part of him feels like he’s lost in a dream, but the grip of your hand on his thigh, the soft, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat of your mouth around him all ground him in reality. His fingers tighten around yours, the intimacy of your entwined hands a stark contrast to the lust coursing through him.

He can’t stop thinking about how utterly beautiful you look, your regal composure gone, replaced by raw want. It’s sinful, how he can feel his cock throbbing in your mouth while your crown sits not too far away, a reminder of who you are — his Queen. And yet, here you are, on your knees, giving yourself to him so completely.

And then there’s the thought of what comes next. His cock twitches at the idea of getting you beneath him, of spreading your legs wide and burying himself in your warmth. He’s desperate to feel you around him, to watch your face twist with pleasure as he takes you, over and over again.

But even with all those thoughts swirling in his mind, one thing keeps echoing louder than the rest: the sheer power of this moment. The Queen, on her knees, sucking his cock like she’s wanted this as much as he has.

The thought sends another wave of heat through his body. He’s barely holding on, every moan, every stroke of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, more ragged, his hips beginning to move on their own, thrusting gently into your mouth. 

Before Jungkook can take control, you pull back, rising from the ground and denying him the release he craves with a teasing smile. His frustrated groan fuels your confidence as you straddle him again, your knees resting on either side of his hips. Your fingers intertwine with his, and you guide both of his hands behind his head, locking your arms around his neck. His arms cross behind him, muscles flexing as he fights to keep himself in check.

The intensity in his eyes is undeniable — burning with desire, frustration, and the raw need to touch you, yet restrained by the control you've taken. Every part of him is taut, his body tense beneath you, waiting, aching for your next move. His gaze never wavers, fixed on you with an almost desperate longing, as if the anticipation alone could undo him.

You lean in slowly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, then another on his cheek, your breath brushing his skin. His chest rises and falls against yours, the heat between you both building to a near unbearable height. Then, lips grazing his ear, you whisper in a low, sultry voice, “I want you to fuck me the way a Queen should be fucked.”

Your words send a shudder through him, his body reacting instantly to your challenge. The restraint he’s been holding onto falters, his breathing turning ragged, his grip tightening slightly on your hands. The dominance of your demand ignites something primal in him, the heat in his gaze searing into you.

"Your Grace..." Jungkook murmurs, his voice deep and breathless, the title slipping out before he can stop it, laced with a mix of reverence and raw, uncontained desire. The slip into formality catches him off guard, as if he’s forgotten to leave the titles behind along with his armor. His jaw clenches, the tension in his body palpable as his control begins to fray at the edges. His eyes burn into yours, dark and hungry, as if your very presence has set him ablaze, and now, all he can do is watch helplessly as the flames consume him.

You feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, and you smirk, rolling your hips against him, letting the friction drive him further into madness. “Are you going to make me wait, or must I command you again?”

That’s all it takes. His resolve snaps. With a low, feral growl, Jungkook releases your hands and grabs you by the thighs, lifting you effortlessly in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised giggle, heart racing at how easily he’s carrying you across the room. His strength, his commanding presence — it’s intoxicating, making your body heat with anticipation.

With a mischievous grin, he throws you down onto the bed, your body bouncing softly against the mattress. Jungkook is on you in an instant, crawling over you with a predatory grace, his body looming above yours, eyes dark and filled with intent. His hands press into the mattress on either side of you, caging you beneath him. The weight of him, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, has your breath catching in your throat.

His lips hover just inches from yours, teasing, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “I’ll show you exactly how my Queen should be fucked.”

There’s a rough edge to his voice now, one that sends shivers down your spine. His hands trail down your sides, fingers curling around the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you beneath him, his gaze smoldering as he drinks in every inch of your bare skin.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Jungkook’s lips descend to your neck, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your throat, your collarbone, and lower still, as his hands grip your hips, holding you firmly in place. His touch is everywhere — greedy, relentless — stoking the fire that’s been building between you all night.

As his mouth moves lower, a soft moan escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward him, craving more. And just when you think you can’t take any more teasing, he pulls back, hovering above you once more, eyes dark with lust and promise.

Jungkook pulls off his tunic, standing before you, fully bare. His gaze is unwavering, filled with awe and raw desire as he drinks in the sight of you, every inch of your body drawing him in with quiet reverence. The heat of his stare is palpable, his lips parting slightly as his eyes travel from your breasts down to your stomach, pausing at the faint stretch marks left behind by your children. 

There’s no shame in his gaze, only admiration — those marks are a testament to your strength, the life you’ve brought into the world. His hand reaches out, hesitating for just a second before brushing over your skin, tracing the delicate lines with his fingertips, as if memorizing every detail. His touch is tender, contrasting the heat in his eyes, and the reverence in his expression makes your heart swell. 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice hushed but filled with sincerity, almost as though he's speaking to himself. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell. There’s no hesitation in his gaze, no second thoughts — just pure admiration.

You can’t help but smile. Despite being nearly bare beneath him, you don’t feel vulnerable. You feel cherished, worshipped even, as if this wasn’t the first time he’s seen you like this. There’s a sense of ease between you, as if his presence was always meant to be like this — intimate and without fear. 

Jungkook leans in closer, his lips trailing down to your hip bone, placing a soft, lingering kiss there. The sensation is both grounding and electrifying, sending a shiver through your body. You glance down, meeting his gaze — intense and burning with desire, the kind of look that makes your heart race and your breath falter. In that moment, you can feel the fire behind his eyes, as if the world has fallen away and you're the only thing that matters.

Without breaking the connection, he lowers himself further, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The kiss is soft, reverent, but full of promise, inching closer to the place where you crave his touch the most. Your breath catches in your throat, anticipation thick in the air, when he finally leans forward and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your pussy through your soaking wet underwear.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sudden contact, and instinctively, you lift your leg, gently pressing your foot against his shoulder to stop him from going further. His eyes flash with surprise, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in them as he looks up at you, waiting for your command.

“Maybe another time,” you murmur, your voice breathless but firm. “I want your cock.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation, and Jungkook’s expression shifts, darkening with pure lust. He gives a low growl of approval, his hands gripping your thighs a little tighter as he quickly moves back up your body.

Jungkook wastes no time, his hands quick but careful as he pulls off your last piece of clothing and positions himself between your legs. His cock, already hard and slick with anticipation, brushes against your entrance, the warmth of him sending a ripple of electricity through your body. You can feel the tension in his muscles, every inch of him taut with restraint as he fights the urge to simply take you. He wants this moment to be more than just a rush of desire.

With a slow, deliberate nudge of his hips, he presses the tip of his cock against your core, the sensation both tantalizing and overwhelming. Your body reacts immediately, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he teases your entrance, the heat between you intensifying. His eyes are locked on yours, as if he’s savoring every second before fully sinking into you. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer, urging him to give you exactly what you’ve been yearning for. His lips crash onto yours in a heated kiss, the moment charged with raw, unspoken passion as he finally pushes into you.

“Oh Gods,” you moan, your back arching off the bed as the sudden stretch overwhelms you. Jungkook fills you completely, every inch of him pressing into you, making your breath hitch as your body adjusts to the delicious pressure. His movements slow for a moment, letting you feel every bit of him, the weight of his body grounding you as the heat between your legs spreads throughout your entire body.

Jungkook’s forehead drops to yours, his breathing ragged as he holds himself still, giving you a moment to adjust. "You feel so perfect," he groans, his voice thick with restraint. His hands roam your body, gripping your hips as though he needs to hold onto something to keep himself from losing control completely.

Your fingers slide up his back, nails grazing his skin as you tug him closer, desperate for more. "Move," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I need you."

That’s all it takes.

With a low growl, Jungkook begins to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the sensation sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Each movement is deliberate, deep, and measured. Your moans mix with his breathless grunts, filling the room with the sounds of your shared desire.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His pace quickens, and soon, he’s moving faster, harder, the rhythm building as the pleasure between you grows. Each thrust drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder, more desperate as you cling to him, completely lost in the moment. 

Jungkook’s lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your skin between ragged breaths. “You feel so good… so fucking good,” he pants, his hips snapping against yours with growing urgency. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, your body responding to his with a need that’s been simmering for so long, now finally unleashed. "Don’t stop," you moan, your voice shaky as the heat within you builds to a breaking point. 

Jungkook’s thrusts become erratic, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t think I can stop," he chuckles, his words sending a shiver through you just as the first waves of release begin to crash over you. 

You kiss him eagerly, teeth grazing his bottom lip before tugging at it playfully. Jungkook groans into your mouth, his hips stuttering for a moment at the sensation. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more heated as your hands pull him closer, your nails digging into his back.

He responds in kind, his lips crashing back onto yours, the intensity of his kiss matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He bites gently on your bottom lip in return, making you gasp into his mouth, your bodies completely in sync as the pleasure mounts between you.

Your kiss is a frenzy of passion, tongues dancing, breaths mingling, as every movement pulls you closer to the edge. You tug harder at his lip, and he growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips and sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins.

Jungkook’s pace becomes relentless, his control slipping as he loses himself in you. “The day of the Kingsguard posting,” he starts breathlessly, his voice low and rough as he thrusts into you. “When you walked onto the balcony… I saw you. Thought you were so pretty. So, so pretty.”

His words, spoken between ragged breaths, send a shiver down your spine, making you arch closer into him. You gasp, your hands clutching onto his shoulders as his confession wraps around you like a heated secret. The intensity in his eyes as he speaks, as he moves inside you, is overwhelming — his vulnerability laid bare, a part of himself he’s never shared with anyone else.

“I shouldn’t have thought it,” he continues, his voice thick with desire and restraint as his pace quickens, “but I couldn’t help it. I wanted you from that moment.”

You feel your heart pound in your chest, not just from the pleasure but from his raw honesty. Your lips part, but no words come out, only breathless moans as he pushes you closer to the edge. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips brushing your ear.

“I never thought I’d have you like this,” he whispers, his voice rough with awe and hunger, each word laced with the weight of unspoken desire. “But now that I do… I’m never letting go.”

His confession wraps around you, sending a shiver through your body as his movements become more intense. The passion in his eyes, the way his body presses into yours, has you spiraling, lost in the heat between you.

You raise a trembling hand, gently brushing his hair back, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “I’m yours,” you breathe, the words slipping from your lips like a vow.

The way his eyes darken, the way his grip tightens on you, tells you he’s heard it loud and clear. And in this moment, you know he’ll hold onto that promise as tightly as he holds onto you.

He laughs out a moan at this. His pace quickens, his thrusts deeper, harder, each one sending you spiraling further. Your moans mix with his, filling the room, the sound of skin against skin only adding to the fire between you. His hands roam your body, memorizing every curve, every inch of you like it’s the last time.

“I’m so close,” he whispers, his voice strained, his body trembling as he fights for control. His forehead presses against yours again, his eyes searching yours, desperate, as if he’s asking for permission to lose himself in you.

You nod, your own release building, teetering on the edge. “Cum with me,” you breathe, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

With a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you feel Jungkook’s body tense as he releases into you, a low groan escaping his lips. The sensation triggers your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing through you as your body tightens around him. You gasp, arching against him, your hands clutching at his back as you ride out the overwhelming sensations together.

His name tumbles from your lips in a soft moan, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. For a moment, the world outside fades — it's just the two of you, tangled together, hearts pounding in sync, as you both come down from your highs.

He doesn’t move right away, his weight still pressed against you, his hands tracing slow, soothing circles on your hips as he catches his breath. You can feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, a silent reminder of the intensity you just shared.

Finally, Jungkook picks his head up from your chest, his dark eyes soft as they meet yours. He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, just because he finally can. It feels different now, with no hesitation between you, just pure connection. After pulling away, he shifts to lay beside you, pulling you against his chest, your bodies fitting together perfectly. 

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, both of you catching your breaths, the calm after the storm. Jungkook’s fingers absentmindedly trace shapes on your back, lulling you into a peaceful haze. But then, he breaks the quiet with a teasing tone.

“Did I exceed your expectations, my Queen?” His voice is low and playful, a soft chuckle escaping him.

You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “Arrogant, are we?” 

But you don’t let him respond. Instead, you sit up, straddling his waist once again, your grin mischievous as you lean down to kiss him, deeper this time, your lips lingering against his. 

“Might need to go again to give you a wholehearted answer,” you say with a smirk, looking down at the man who looks far too comfortable in your bed — a man who, by all means, shouldn’t be here.

His eyes widen for a moment before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, matching your energy. He chuckles, his hands gripping your waist firmly, his desire evident.

Jungkook knew that once the children were tucked safely into bed, these sneaky nights with you would be his favorite part of the day — full of far more excitement than he’d ever imagined.

The days stretched on like endless hourglasses, the sand moving far too slowly. Every moment of the daylight hours was consumed by anticipation, the constant pull of wanting the sun to sink and the moon to rise. It was during the night, when Jungkook would slip quietly into your chamber, that the world finally felt right.

Whether it was tangled sheets, quiet conversations, soft laughter, or simply lying in each other’s arms, those moments with him were the highlight of your days — only second to the joy of your children’s smiles, of course. But with Jungkook, time seemed to bend, each night feeling like a stolen treasure that you cherished more with every passing hour.

As much as you despised the act of walking past Jungkook during the day, pretending he wasn't your lover at night, the thrilling game of trying not to get caught was undeniably fun.

The secret, the tension of it, had its own special allure. Yet, there were moments when the near misses took a more terrifying turn.

Like that one time.

You'd been soaking in a bath, the water warm and fragrant with bubbles, the steam swirling around you like a blanket of comfort. But Jungkook, always unpredictable, had snuck in without a sound. Before you could even protest, he was stripping himself bare, sliding into the tub with you, the sudden shift in water making a small splash as he settled in.

Laughter filled the room as water overflowed, but that quickly faded into a mix of heavy breaths, wet skin, and the sound of sloppy kisses. Jungkook's hands gripped your waist as he leaned back, his head resting against the tub's edge, eyes locked on you. Your hips moved in sync, the sound of water splashing and your soft moans combining with his groans, creating a rhythm that made your heart race.

Then, just as the heat between you both reached its peak, a knock at the door shattered the moment. It was so sudden and unexpected that Jungkook's hand shot up, covering your mouth before you could release a gasp, freezing you in place. Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest.

"Your Grace, I have your warm towels," came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. The maid sounded so oblivious, so unaware of what was actually happening just beyond the wooden barrier.

Jungkook didn't move a muscle, still as stone, his hand resting over your lips as his eyes met yours with a mischievous glint. Slowly, he lifted his hand, urging you to speak.

"J- just leave them at the door," you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heartbeat betrayed your calm facade. "I’ll grab them once I'm finished."

Jungkook stifled a chuckle, clearly finding the entire situation amusing as though it was nothing more than a joke to him. But you knew better. This was dangerous, reckless, and could cost both of you far more than just embarrassment.

"Very well, Your Grace," came the maid's voice, before the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance.

The moment she was gone, you slapped Jungkook's chest, eyes narrowed in mock fury. "We could've been caught," you said, your voice laced with both exasperation and something else — something darker, more thrilling. But the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed your feigned seriousness.

Jungkook grinned, his chest rising and falling with a quiet chuckle, as he pulled you back toward him, the playful tension still lingering in the air.

Because nights with Jungkook were always too short, he made sure to steal as many kisses and playful winks during the day as possible. The fleeting moments shared between you were like stolen treasures, hidden in plain sight.

Whenever the children finished their lessons, Jungkook was quick to position himself in front of the door to the next room they’d move into, knowing you'd soon follow, eager to check on them and hear about what they’d learned. Each time, like clockwork, you’d approach, ready to step past him, only for him to block your way with a teasing grin.

“Let me in,” you’d whine softly, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

He’d simply point to his cheek, signaling for a kiss as if he were making a royal decree. You’d roll your eyes but play along, leaning in. Just as your lips brushed his cheek, he’d turn his head swiftly, catching your kiss on his lips instead.

Your heart would race as you quickly pecked his lips once more, a mixture of thrill and worry filling you at the thought of someone walking down the corridor and catching you both. With a final flustered glance at him, you’d hurry into the chamber to join your children, trying to maintain your composure as you asked them about their day.

Meanwhile, Jungkook would stand tall outside the door, his expression serious, as though he was merely guarding the room. But the sparkle in his eyes and the lingering hint of a smile betrayed him, the playful mischief still present even as he forced himself to appear composed.

The only person who knew about your secret relationship with Jungkook was Atticus. You’d confided in him, and he had been overjoyed to learn he’d been right all along. He had always suspected something, but hearing it from you only fueled his excitement and pride at being in on the secret.

Jungkook’s devotion to you went far beyond his duty as a knight. On the surface, he played his role flawlessly, always by your side, always vigilant. To everyone else, he was simply your loyal protector, the ever watchful guard who would give his life without question. But beneath that armor, beneath the stern facade he wore in public, his loyalty ran much deeper.

He wasn’t just devoted to you as his Queen; he was devoted to you as the woman he loved, with a fierce, unshakable passion that transcended titles or obligations. Every time he stood by your side, it wasn’t just as your sworn knight but as the man who would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant loving you in secret for the rest of his life.

In the quiet moments, when the world wasn’t watching, his love shone through. The way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his fingers lingered just a moment longer when they brushed against yours, or the way his lips would curl into a faint smile when he caught you stealing glances at him. It was in the way he held you at night, after everyone else had gone to bed, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke of a love so deep, words could never do it justice.

Jungkook didn’t need grand gestures or declarations of love. His devotion was in the small things, the quiet sacrifices, the way he protected you not just with his sword but with his heart. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word in the darkness was a testament to his unwavering loyalty — not to the crown, not to his duty, but to you.

And though the world might never see the depth of his devotion, you felt it every day. In the way he watched over you, in the way he shielded you from not only physical threats but from the weight of loneliness that sometimes crept in. He was your protector, not just in body but in spirit.

As the years passed, your secret love remained hidden, but his devotion never wavered. No matter the risks, no matter how many times you had to pretend in public that he was nothing more than a knight, Jungkook’s heart was yours, fully and completely.

In the end, it didn’t matter that the world would never know the truth. You knew. You saw the way he loved you, not just as a knight sworn to protect you but as a man devoted to your heart, forever bound to you in a way that went beyond duty or title.

And in that devotion, you found your peace. Because you knew, no matter what happened, Jungkook would always be by your side — not just as your protector but as your lover, your confidant, and the one person who truly understood the depths of your soul.

© voyter 2024, all rights reserved.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aegon x niece! reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter) smut please! Aegon has always been in love with her and manages to convince Alicent and Viserys to let him marry her. The reader is just as in love and when they get married, thwir wedding night is full of love and passion and 🫦. Aegon hugging her tight while fucking her and reader whimpering and moaning in his ear 🤌🏽

I received so many requests these past days and got inspiration for a lot of them (14!!), so expect more very soon <3 I'm trying to include everything (smut, angst, action)

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, p + v, loss of virginity

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Standing in the Great Sept of Baelor, your eyes couldn’t stray from Aegon. Blood was dripping slowly from his bottom lip after being cut after being cut and smeared on his forehead. His frizzy hair had been tamed and the cold of his clothes made the blue of his eyes stand out. 

A dagger was handed to you to cut your palm with. You hissed slightly, watching as blood seeped out. You held your hand away from your pretty dress, not wishing to dirty it with blood, then passed the dagger to Aegon who did the same. He clasped his hand with yours, your blood mingled together as a blood silk was wrapped over your joined hands. 

Queen Alicent wanted Aegon to marry following the Faith of the Seven, but he insisted on Valyrian tradition as the bond by blood was unbreakable. 

‘’Blood of two, joined as one. Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass. The stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time or darkness and light,’’ the officiant said, reading from an old book. 

Aegon could feel his heart racing. He couldn’t wait to call you his wife, to walk around court with your arm looped around his. And to no longer have a chaperon following you everywhere. It was so annoying. The only times you were able to be alone together was when you would elope on your dragons. 

If your parents thought a chaperon would stop you from sharing kisses and letting your hands wander to places they should not be, they were mistaken. 

The officiant finally allowed you to kiss, and every part of Aegon ached to shove his tongue into your mouth and kiss the life out of you in front of everyone. But he restrained himself, settling for a kiss that would be just enough to make your cheeks flush. 

When the ceremony came to an end, everyone was bright back to the Keep. You rode a carriage with Aegon and your little brother, Joffrey, which you suspected was a scheme by your parents to make sure no sexual activities would happen in the carriage. 

Aegon's hand was resting on your thigh, and he leaned in to whisper in your ear. ‘’This is so frustrating. They really did this on purpose, didn't they?’’ 

‘’It’s not entirely a bad thing. I wouldn’t want you to crease or stain my dress before the feast,’’ you said, smoothing the shimmery white fabric of your dress as you fawned over the gold embroideries. You had never seen a more beautiful gown.  

Aegon smiled smugly, thinking back to your last dragon ride together and the kisses you shared in the clearing…and his hand that slipped into your riding pants. ‘’Little does these fools know, we’ve played them before.’’ Smirking, he leaned in again. ‘’You know what kind of effect you have on me, wearing that dress. Especially knowing what's underneath.’’ He gave your thigh a little squeeze, his hand starting to move upwards just for a moment.

You quickly covered his hand with your own, stopping him. ‘’Stop it. Not here.’’ 

You looked over and saw Joffrey sitting on the opposite seat. Luckily, the boy was too preoccupied staring out the window to notice anything.

A sigh left your husband’s lips. ‘’I don’t want to wait until tonight. I won’t be able to.’’ 

Thankfully, the journey to the Red Keep was short. The doors to the carriage were opened and Aegon stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you out. He took a moment to let his eyes roam over your body, his gaze hungry. Before he could say anything, you pulled him towards the castle and to the throne room where the festivities would be held. Inside, the room was decked out with gold drapes and beautiful flowers — nothing less for a royal wedding. 

The music began as you and Aegon made your first entrance together, your arm linked to his. He had promised to not let you fall in front of the lord and ladies. The guests cheered as you both made your way down the grand aisle, to the large table where your families stood, waiting for you to begin the feast.

As the night went on, you danced and ate cake and indulged in more wine that you would allow yourself to help with the nerves later. You were dancing with Helaena and laughing when you felt an arm snake around your waist and wet lips on your neck.  

You leaned into Aegon’s chest and Helaena took this as her cue to find another dance partner. 

‘’Do you think they will notice if we leave the festivities early?’’ he whispered in your ear, having enough of this feast and wanting to be alone with you. 

You glanced around, searching for your parents. They seemed all involved in conversations with other lords and ladies, but one last pair of eyes was on you: Otto Hightower. Since he caught you kissing in an alcove when you were five and ten, he had been following you and Aegon like a hawk, disproving of your courtship.  

‘’If you can find a way to escape your grandsire, I’ll follow you,’’ you replied. 

Aegon’s laughter mixed with yours as you were running to Megor’s Holdfast where the royal chambers were. It felt like all the times you slipped away from court together to avoid being caught.  

As soon as the door of Aegon’s chambers closed, his lips were on yours and his hands were all over you, grabbing and pulling with a hunger that made your pulse race. The urgency in his movements left you breathless, your body responding instinctively to his touch. 

Clothes were taken off in haste, allowing your lips to kiss more skin. You threw your head back and moaned softly, nails sinking into Aegon's milky skin as he kissed down your neck and to your bared breasts, giving them the attention he's dreamed of. 

‘’Aegon, please,’’ you whimpered, feeling his erect cock prod at your lower stomach. 

He pressed a last kiss to your nipple and nodded, walking you back to his bed. You crawled up to the pillows, making yourself comfortable. Aegon joined you, hovering over you, and studying your flushed face for a moment, before he bent down to kiss your lips again.

You were thankful that your mother had opposed the humiliation of a bedding ceremony. You would never have been able to relax under the eyes of men standing around the bed, waiting for blood to mark the sheets. 

While you were distracted by his kiss, Aegon moved a hand between your bodies to play with your cunt a little, helping you relax and prepare you for his cock. His girth was larger than the fingers he’s inserted before and he didn’t want to hurt you. 

It would be a lie to say you didn't feel anything when he slid into you. The pain was unlike anything you felt before. Seeing the tears prick in your eyes and your pained face, Aegon was quick to sooth you with sweet words until the pain subsided. 

His first thrusts were slow and overwhelming. It was a kind of pleasure you never experienced before. 

‘’I love you, Aegon,’’ you said, seeing stars when he reached a particular spot.

He kissed you sweetly. ‘’I love you.’’ 

You hugged him tight while he moved his hips, his ears blessed by your whimpers and moans.  

A chill blew from the windows, refreshing the warm air after your entercourse. You shivered, clinging to Aegon under the sheets. He closed his eyes, ready for a night of sleep, when your voice stirred him.

‘’Can we do it again?’’ you asked in a whisper, your head resting on his chest while bathing in the afterglow.  

Aegon grinned at the ceiling, thanking the gods for giving him a wife that was just as horny as him.

—

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[gghostwriter]

i saw you opened your fluff requests so how about this: reid recieves an invitation to a high-school reunion back in Vegas but he doesn't want to go because of his bad childhood. but his best friend (who is completely in love with him) convinces him to go, and offers to be his fake girlfriend to hype him up and make him feel more comfortable. he agrees and ends up confessing his love on the same football field he was bullied on

please feel no pressure to write this, it's just an idea i thought was cute

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Friends to lovers; Fluff with a mix of pining wc: 2.1k A/N: Reader is not part of the BAU, but she just still work for the FBI. By far, this is my longest request written (it's a chapter length) and I don't know how it became so long but I hope you enjoy it still! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Rewriting History. // Spencer Reid

It was the heavy scent of books and wood that welcomed you home. Street lights reflecting off the emerald green walls, bathing the apartment space a warm golden hue. There was peace and stillness, your roommate of two years, Spencer Reid, nowhere to be seen—a usual occurrence that came with his and your job too, being FBI agents under the BAU and CACU, respectively.

You sluggishly made your way to your bedroom, adjacent Spencer’s closed door. Flipping open the switch, your worn body collapsed on the plush vanity chair as thoughts about the darkness of your job slip away and get replaced with melancholy on your connection with the boy genius. It was a relationship nurtured by grueling times in the academy—a connection forged out of convenience at first before becoming this convoluted and intimate bond all because you ended up falling for him.

It wasn’t a conscious choice and Spencer didn’t make it any easier. He was a closed off castle complete with a moat and a secret password—painfully shy and awkward in nature. If it wasn’t for required partnership in physical classes, you doubted you’d get as close as you were now.

A beep brought you out of your musings.

And as if he knew you were thinking of him, it was a text message from Spencer informing you of his return home in a few minutes. 

With a sigh, you pushed yourself out of the chair and changed into a set of clothes—a faded Caltech tee, that you never returned, and a pair of black leggings

Padding across to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator and silently thanked your past self for prepping dinner for two in advance. With how irregular both your schedules were and Spencer’s apparent lack of skill in cooking, it fell upon your shoulders to make sure he isn’t living off of cold pizzas and Chinese takeouts. 

As the second plate of food was heating up in the microwave, the chiming of keys softly echoed from outside the mahogany door.

“Hey Spencer,” you called out from the kitchen counter.

A series of rustles and a soft hey answered back.

You tilted your head to the side in contemplation, something was wrong and as he turned the corner, shoulders curving in on itself and brows furrowed, something must definitely be wrong. 

“Tough case?” You asked, bringing both plates to the rounded dinner table.

“Yeah—” Spencer shook his head. “Actually no, not really but I got an email from Las Vegas.”

Your spoonful of soup hung midair, immediately concerned with the email contents. “Is it your mom? Is she okay?’ 

Having visited Diana in numerous occasions with and without Spencer, you’ve learned to love that woman fiercely too. She was a breath of fresh air—blunt during her lucid days and smart during her academic lectures. 

“It’s from my high school, an invitation for the reunion.”

Ah. “And you’re not sure if you want to go?” 

He shrugged, chewing his slice of chicken before answering. “There’s really no one I want to reconnect with, you know. No happy memories really.” 

“That’s true,” you nodded along. 

During the first few nights moving in the apartment, Spencer had shared the lows he had to go through just to get to where he was now at such a young age—endlessly mocked for being a geek, no friend group or single confidant to watch his back, and the utter humiliation of being tied naked on a football post. You had an inkling that the genius had gone through bullying, it was a sad norm in all schools, especially in public, but hearing it first hand had brought home just how much of his closed off and shy personality was a product of his trials.

You tapped your fingers on the table. “I think you should go.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, yeah. To show all those mean bullies where you are now,” your back straightening from the idea. “They’ll talk about you in passing anyway, whether you’re there or not so might as well be there to show them up and defend yourself plus—” you paused, taking a sip of water before barreling through. “—you’ve become quite handsome since then. Don’t you think?”

His hazel eyes widened in surprise, further adding to his appeal. Spencer was so innocent that he didn’t know the effect he had on women—first evidence was yourself and the second was Lila Archer. “Y-you think I’ve become handsome?”

With warmth spreading on your cheeks, you nodded. “You’ve always been handsome to me.”

Spencer started coughing, hand beating on his chest as the food threatened to go down the wrong tube.

Alarmed, you quickly stood up and started patting his back for assistance. How embarrassing was this—the first time you blatantly flirted with the man you formed intense attraction for ends up with him almost choking. Was this a sign maybe to not push your luck? You’ve done just about anything to nudge Spencer’s mind in acknowledging your feelings, from remembering all his little quirks (all were just so cute), actively listening to his tangents (all very informative and interesting), and even sometimes delivering a box of donuts to his team (all in the name of seeing his face brighten up) but none seemed to have worked. So, you opted to tell him in words and look what that did to him.

You gnawed on your lower lip. Maybe it was best to pull back, maybe it was best to throw in—

He cleared his throat before his hand reached yours situated on his shoulder. There was a slight tremor before it closed around your all of a sudden clammy palm. “I’ll go if you go with me.”

Filter off your brain. “As a fake girlfriend type of thing?”

You shut your eyes closed, promising to yourself to stop reading those unrealistic romance novels that Penelope lends you.

“If—if you want,” his voice shaky and soft as rustles could be heard in the background.

Opening your eyes, Spencer was now fully facing you. Eyes roaming your face and body—profiling you.

A small smile graced your lips. “Okay.”

———

The second thing your brain thought of was how oddly fitting that the reunion was held at the school gym, located beside the football field. The first thought being how Spencer looked devastatingly handsome in his suit and tie.

His attire wasn’t that different from his usual in the FBI but there was a hidden meaning behind his choices. The patterned brown blazer was a gift you had given to him for his first anniversary working at the FBI and his tie matched the color of your dress. 

It made you feel warm even though a shiver went down your spine as a sudden gust of wind passed by. 

Spencer slid closer towards you. “Do you want my coat?”

“I’m alright, thanks for asking Spence,” you looked up, smiling in reassurance. The fairy lights hung in rows emphasized how structured his face was. A high nose bridge, similar to his mother’s, and high cheekbones that made your fingers twitch in want to caress. He was stunning to look at—a view you feared you’d never get enough of.

“Spencer Reid!” A booming male voice shouted from across the gymnasium causing a few heads to swivel. Based on the other attendees reactions—giving them ample space as they passed and the stares tracking their every move, you knew who he was right away. A former bully.

“How are you?” he reached out his hand for a handshake. One that Spencer stared at before bringing his hand up to a wave, lips in a tight lipped smile.

“Hey Paul, nice to see you.”

“Is it?” He chuckled before turning his eyes on you. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You stated out your name, tone very similar when you’re on the field—cold and professional.

“Look at you, Spencer, having such a pretty girlfriend. Heard you work for the FBI now, is that how you two met?” 

A saccharine smile spread across your lips. Your boy genius had been stiff ever since Paul called out his name. Having have heard how Spencer once reacted to a case where the unsub was a high school victim, you knew where his mind was at the moment. Grappling with the hurt from the past and trying his best not to lash out from the scars it had left behind. “Yeah, we met at the Academy and just clicked. He was such a gentleman that I couldn’t say no when he asked me out for a date.”

“That’s good to hear. Listen, man, is it alright if I talk to you for a second? Alone?”

You brushed the back of your hand with his, bringing his attention to you. There was a slight furrow in between his brows and his stature was taut, like a stretched out bow that needs to release it’s arrow. This was one of the few times, you could tell, that Spencer was unsure what to do. There was no malice behind Paul’s request and although you weren’t a profiler yourself, the slight hunch on the former bully’s shoulder silently communicated his remorse. 

Spencer’s eyes trained on yours and as if he found the answer within the depths of your gaze, he slightly smiled, squeezing your hand in his before turning back and nodding to the interloper. 

“I’ll go get a refill,” you lifted your empty cup to excuse yourself.

In truth, you stood idly near the punch bowl and kept your eyes glued on the male duo. Paul was looking down, shuffling his feet, before taking a deep breath and looking straight at Spencer. He uttered a few words you couldn’t make of and in turn, Spencer’s body relaxed and he nods once. With an offer for a handshake, one that Spencer shook, Paul walked away as you made your way back to your partner’s side.

“Good talk?” you asked.

“He apologized,” Spencer muttered, eyes studying you before grasping your hand back to his. “No refill?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it anymore. Say Spence—” he titled his head as an answer. “Want to get out of here?”

He chuckled, eyes twinkling with relief. “Thought you’d never ask.”

———

The cicadas were singing their tune as you and Spencer stepped out to the football field. The grass lush in color and the faint smell of wet earth wafted around. Grateful that you opted to wear sensible flats rather than the high heels Penelope was bartering you to wear, you held Spencer’s hand tight as he started recollecting the worst bullying that happened in the same place many years ago.

“That—” he pointed at the goalpost on the far right. “—was where I was left tied up. I remember feeling worried that I would catch hypothermia as the rain kept coming and going that day and I remember feeling sad when I got home and my mother didn’t notice me missing.” 

Your voice caught in your throat.

He continued on. “They say people forget events as they grow older and I wished I had the luxury of that.”

“Because of your eidetic memory,” you sighed. It was a blessing and a curse to have. 

“But I was thinking, maybe I could rewrite it instead?”

There was a thick layer of hope behind his words causing you to turn, fully facing him this time.

“I—I’ve been keeping a secret from you for 24 months and 182 days and I don’t know if this would change our relationship or ruin it but you’re my person, my best friend—” he took a deep breath. “—and I’m in love with you.”

People say there are moments in your life that would upend everything as you know it and tilt everything to an axis, you never understood what they meant by that, up until this moment. The twinkling night stars suddenly appeared brighter, the temperature warmer, and the force that tethered you to Earth was no longer gravity, it was now Spencer Reid.

You smiled, eyesight blurring from tears. His trembling fingers reached out to wipe the droplets making its path down your cheeks.

“I’m in love with you too, Spencer Reid, since the beginning.” 

And as if the world needed more proof, he smiled—his bright, full teeth smile and you felt your heart halt before starting back up again. 

It was proof that he owned the beating organ in your chest and all the emotion that came with it. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess - Pt3

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Rhaenyra calls Y/n and Ben back to Dragonstone to ask a great favor. Jace and Baela reunite with y/n and are left in charge of Harrenhal during their absence.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, wine, small 3rd person pov at beginning, y/ns got some anxiety(real), p in v in like in a desperate and needy way

Authors Note: plsplspls see the vision of him being a dragonseed😓 like fr imagine them flying and being cute and then burning down their enemies like come onnnn and NOT being direct family members, i got super fkn attached to this story so i’ll be writing more parts whether anyone wants them or not 🫣

Word Count: 4.7k

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3rd person pov at Dragonstone:

Rhaenyra looks to Jace as if he’s absolutely mad or brilliant. The thought alone of putting someone on a dragon who was never raised to claim one is insanity. Yet, no one has shut down the continuing discussion that has been taking place since the records have been pulled.

“You would put a Massey on a dragon?” Rhaenyra chuckles shaking her head looking around the table.

“Or another house. There’s scores of them.” Jace nods his head looking at the spread out papers in front of him.

“I’m thinking a Blackwood.” Daemon says with a smirk looking at them.

“Y/n will not take lightly to that suggestion if what you say is true about them.” Rhaenyra looks to him skeptically still not fully trusting his judgment.

“The boy waits on her and Silverwing hand and claw. He yells at local farmers for cattle and herds them to Silverwing, all while greeting her in High Valyrian. I’ve heard stories throughout the host of how he’s even ridden with Y/n. Whether she likes it or not he’s most likely to be able to bond with Vermithor.” Daemon spreads his hands across the table pushing the family records away from him.

“Vermithor? Of all of the unbonded? She won’t take lightly to that.” Baela shakes her head looking to Daemon.

“Vermithors bonded dragon is Silverwing. It makes sense. Especially since Silverwing has already taken a liking to him.” Daemon tries to share his reasoning with them.

“And how do you propose we get them to come back here? I don’t think she’ll easily want to leave the host she’s amassed or him his men.” Jace raises an eyebrow to Daemon ready to forge a plan to get them to return.

“You can take her place.” Daemon shrugs not seeming to care what it takes as Jaces eyes light up at the thought of finally being able to leave Dragonstone.

“Absolutely not.” Rhaenyra cuts in as she will hear no more of it.

“Then you’ll send Baela. Again. While I’m to just sit here like a baby sequestered to his crib.” Jace shakes his head and storms out of hall.

“Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra calls after him but he’s already turned the corner.

“He grows restless too. He only wants to help.” Baela says hushed looking to Rhaenyra.

“He’s my heir. I don’t want to send another son to his death. Nothing I do seems to make him happy.” Rhaenyra groans wiping her face with her hands.

“Y/n has a tight grip on the army. We could send both Baela and Jace to replace Y/n and Ben until they can return. The presence of two dragons will help the men to stay in line in their absence.” Daemon leans back in his chair, assessing Rhaenyra.

“I will think on this and make a decision on the morrow.” Rhaenyra says decisively, nodding her head.

“I will go check on Jace. Your Grace.” Baela nods her head curtly and leaves the hall leaving Rhaenyra even more exasperated.

“You could always send me back.” Daemon chuckles as his eyes gaze at her across the messy table.

“If you think I would send you back to Harrenhal after everything, then you must have truly lost your fucking mind.” her eyes narrow on him. Daemon chuckles lowly before sauntering out of the hall leaving Rhaenyra to think.

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Y/n Pov:

Silverwing and I sit perched atop the highest tower of Harrenhal, her claws digging into the crumbling stone. Off in the distance we can hear two dragons calling out and Silverwing responds with a high pitch song of her own. Moondancer zips into view circling the castle and taking in the host. Vermax breaks through the clouds as his low grumble bounces off of the towers. Silverwing dashes to the ground outside of the gates while they land next to her.

“Brother! Sister!” I cry out as I slide down off of Silverwing.

“Y/n!” they jog to me and engulf me in a hug.

“Gods I wish we were here when you sent Daemon back to Dragonstone. Ser Alfred is absolutely in awe of you.” Jace chuckles looking me over as I do the same to them.

“I’m surprised mother finally let you leave your chambers.” I try to stifle my laugh as Jaces face gets red.

“Thanks to me, of course.” Baela smiles at Jace teasingly.

“And where is your paramour?” Jace wiggles his eyebrows causing my cheeks to heat.

“So Daemon can remember that but not his loyalties.” I shake my head as a smile spreads across my face at being reunited with my siblings.

“Are you embarrassed of me, my Princess?” Ben walks through the gate and to my side not seeming to care there are three dragons surrounding him.

“You know that I’m not.” I turn to him while I feel my cheeks reach a new temperature as he gives one of them a pinch.

“Oh this is rich. I never thought I’d see the day you’d become a blushing mess, sister.” Jace snickers as Baela joins him.

“Jace enough, let her be happy.” Baela chides trying to hide her own giggles.

“If you both are done,” I roll my eyes. “This is Lord Benjicot Blackwood.” I smile softly as I look to Ben.

“I told her enough with the titles,” he smirks down at me. “Call me Ben, it’s an honor to meet you Prince Jacaerys and Princess Baela.” he smiles bowing his head to them.

“So respectful, mother is going to absolutely adore him.” Jace tries to hold in his laughter as I scowl at him.

“And why, pray tell, are me and Ben being summoned home?” I groan as I motion for them to follow me in through the gates.

“She wishes to hear about your progress from you. Daemon has also spared few details regarding you and Ben and she’s interested.” Baela hums following close behind.

“The fact Daemon had anything to say about us is astounding.” I shake my head. “Come, we will show you to your chambers and then we will call a meeting with the River Lords.” I sigh as we begin up the stairs. Ben and I drop them off at their chambers to settle in before we return to ours to finish packing.

“I’m scared to meet your mother.” Ben says as he shoves more shirts into his bag.

“Why?” I turn to him scrunching my brows.

“She’s the Queen. What if she doesn’t like me? She could exile me if she should want.” he sits down on the bed and looks to me.

“Then she’ll also be sending me into exile.” I walk over to him and cradle his face.

“You would come with?” he looks up to me pulling me closer by my waist.

“Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me.” I brush his hair back.

“Will you still be with me even if we’re not in exile?” his voice soft as his eyes search mine.

“I will be with you anywhere.” my voice barely a whisper.

He rises from the bed making my hands move from his face to his chest. He leans down and offers me a soft kiss. He pulls me into a tight embrace while slightly pulling back to capture my lips once more. I’m intoxicated by everything this man does and I can’t picture the rest of my days without him.

“Come, we must have a meeting.” I kiss him softly once more before we exit our chambers.

We’re sitting around the table with the River Lords who are looking curiously to my siblings. Jace and Baela seem calm and have an air about them that they will lead them with a firm grip as Ben and I have.

“Thank you for coming together so quickly, my Lords. This is Prince Jacaerys and Princess Baela.” I turn to them and smile. “The Queen has requested that Ben and I return to Dragonstone to discuss our progress and receive more instruction for the future. I should hope you treat my siblings with the respect their station calls for. They’re here to humbly learn how this host moves as one and to help in any way they can.” I look to all the Lords who are nodding their heads and don’t seem upset by the change in authority.

“When can we expect you both to return?” one of them looks to me.

“I will send a raven as soon as I have that information. If there are any further questions, they may be directed to either Baela or Jace.” I nod my head at him.

“Thank you for allowing us the opportunity to stay and work closely with you and your men. You do a great service to our mother and it does not go unnoticed.” Jace rises and smiles to the Lords around the table.

“Of course, my Prince.” similar murmurs erupt from around the table.

Ben and I take our leave from the meeting and hand them over to Baela and Jace who offer us a quick goodbye. Ben collects our bags before we leisurely stroll down to Silverwing. On approach she is nudging her head against Moondancer and Vermax affectionately until she spots us.

“Time for us to go home for a bit.” I hum and pat her neck.

I gesture for Ben to begin mounting and I follow closely behind him. Once we’re seated Silverwing shoots us in the direction of Dragonstone. Ben has become more relaxed on dragonback and laughs with me when Silverwing dips and twirls around.

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As we approach Dragonstone Silverwing flies down quickly and walks us into the pit. As we begin to dismount and pull our bags down a deep growl shakes the foundations of the cave as Vermithors snout begins to emerge.

“Go deal with your grumpy old man.” I chuckle to Silverwing who huffs and turns towards him.

She snaps her jaws at him and pushes him back into the depths so they can curl up in their cave. I turn to Ben who is looking at me with wide eyes as our bags take up his arm space. I chuckle and pull him into the castle with me.

“Whose dragon is that?” Ben asks looking behind his shoulder.

“As of right now, he only belongs to Silverwing.” I hum as we turn the corner.

“What do you mean he belongs to Silverwing?” his words trail off as he takes in the enormity of the castle and all of its details. “Your home is breathtaking, my Princess.”

“She means that Vermithor and Silverwing are bonded dragons. They care for each other deeply.” Rhaenyra comes around the corner as a smile spreads across my face.

“My Queen.” Ben drops our bags and goes to his knees.

“Rise Ben,” Rhaenyra chuckles and looks to us with a soft smile as Ben rises to my side.

“Mother,” I return her smile and hug her tightly.

“Thank you, for everything.” she whispers in my ear squeezing me once more.

“Of course,” I nod my head. “This is Ben, he’s taken care of me and Silverwing dutifully over the past moon.” I hum looking at him affectionately.

“So I’ve heard.” her eyes crinkle with warmth. “I will let you two settle into your chambers and I’ll see you both for supper.” she nods before turning and leaving us in the hall.

“Should I have said something more? Do you think I made a bad impression?” he worries as he starts to collect our bags once more.

“You were a bit dramatic with throwing our bags everywhere but no matter, she seemed pleased with you.” I hum as I continue to lead him to my chambers.

“Should I ask for my own chambers so I look respectful?” his nerves evident in his voice.

“Ben enough,” I hush him as we stop in front of my doors. “You’re sleeping in my bed or I’m sending you home.” I cross my arms and look to him.

“Of course, my Princess.” he nods his head with a smirk on his lips.

I push the doors open and allow him in before shutting them behind us. I sigh in relief as I take in my bed and bath. I look to my wardrobe and smile that I can finally wear a gown again. I do love wearing my armor and the strength it imbues me with but there’s something so powerful about commanding a room in a gown that took weeks to make.

“Just throw the bags anywhere,” I turn to him as I go to my vanity to take in the state of myself.

Ben comes behind me and looks to me lovingly as I begin to take my braids out. He helps take the other out and we begin to take off each other’s armor and gear. I glide over to my wardrobe and rip the doors open. My hands feel the soft fabric as a smile spreads across my face.

“No distractions,” I turn to Ben who is still staring at me. “Go change in the bathing chambers while I change out here.” I hum and send him with his bags behind the stone doors.

I peel the rest of my clothes off and pull a silk slip over my head. The smooth fabric feels like heaven on my skin which pulls a sigh from my lips. I grab out my favorite gown that reminds me of Silverwings scales in its color. It cascades down my body and flows behind me. The sleeves are mesh and have hundreds of silver crystals traveling down them. The neckline is plunging but has mesh to offer some type of modesty if we want to call it that. I find my slippers and close my eyes at the soft fur compared to my boots.

The bathing chamber doors groan open and I turn to Ben. Gods he looks so handsome in a fresh doublet and trousers. My eyes travel up his body until I make it to his flushed face. He looks to me and shakes his head. As he approaches he falls to his knees before me causing a giggle to erupt from me.

“Ben-“

“No, let me admire you. From my rightful place, my Princess.” he breathes out looking up to me.

His eyes travel the length of my body as he softly shakes his head. He begins to rise and I tilt my head back so we can keep our eye contact. His lips fall to mine in a bruising kiss. One of his hands go to my back to pull me flush against him while his other goes to my neck to mold me to him. Our tongues dance lazily as we sigh into each other’s mouth.

“We must go to supper.” he hums against my lips.

“Must we?” I smile looking at him through my lashes.

“Yes, or we won’t be leaving these chambers for the rest of the night.” his eyes darken.

“Come,” I chuckle and pull him out of the doors and down the stairs.

As we make our way to the dining hall the guards and servants welcome me home and offer warm welcomes to Ben. He smiles at them while trailing after me. As we enter the hall hand in hand we are greeted by Rhaenyra and Daemon who are already sat at the table.

“Welcome home.” Daemon raises his glass to us.

“Mm,” I look him over and pull Ben down to a seat next to mine.

“We will have a nice dinner you two. We have a guest.” Rhaenyra warns us while smiling to Ben.

“I’m honored, Your Grace.” Ben dips his head down.

“Feel free to call me Rhaenyra. You’ve done a great service to me and I’m grateful.” she looks to him sincerely.

“If there is anything at all that you need of me, I will see it done.” he nods his head to her.

Daemon chuckles and my eyes shoot daggers at him. I’m glad he’s home and no longer fretting about the Riverlands but it doesn’t mean I want to sit at a table with him. Servants burst into the hall and begin filling our plates and cups.

The rest of our meal goes as expected. Daemon making back handed comments and Rhaenyra scolding him. Ben’s hand holds mine under the table and I feel like we’re a couple of children sneaking around like we weren’t just commanding a great host. We begin to leave to retire for the night until Rhaenyra stops me.

“Could I have some time with you, daughter.” she looks to me softly.

“Of course,” a smile spreads across my face before I turn to Ben and have him go wait for me in my chambers.

She pulls us into her study and looks to me contemplatively. I claim a seat by the great hearth that takes up a majority of the hall. She hands me a cup of wine while taking her own and claiming a seat across from me.

“I want to thank you again for all of your hard work in the Riverlands. Although, we could’ve done without the Blackwood and Bracken battle but I’ll take the swords nonetheless.” she tries to reprimand me but it’s never been her strong suit.

“I had full intentions of negotiating,” I try to offer, shrugging my shoulders.

“You are your father’s child.” she chuckles and shakes her head.

“Don’t remind me,” I groan. “Thank the Gods you didn’t come to Harrenhal yourself. He was in a rare state.” I shutter looking to her.

“Mm, Ser Alfred had much to say about that. I think his words were “Gods save us, we now have a Rogue Princess.” though I did tell him not to call you that to your face.” her shoulders shake as she tries to hide her laugh.

“Ben told me I was terrifying that night, with love though, of course.” I smile at the thought of Ben.

“So Benjicot Blackwood?” she raises her eyebrows as a smile plays on her lips.

“Mother,” I groan even though a smile begins to form. “He’s the first man who isn’t truly scared of me or Silverwing. Gods, some days I think he likes her more than me.” I chuckle.

“I’ve heard he brings her meals everyday?” she asks as her smile continues to grow.

“I’ve told him to stop harassing the local farmers. He either brings her cattle or comes with us when she hunts fish out of the nearby rivers.” I shake my head.

“He was brave enough to mount Silverwing?” she tilts her head studying me.

“He begged me to teach him how to greet her in High Valyrian. She rolls to her side so he can pat her belly. She acts like more of a baby than the cats I used to have.” I chuckle remembering my small furry beasts.

“Daughter, I have an unmeasurable favor to ask of you and Ben.” he bites her lip nervously.

“We are yours to command.” I nod my head at her.

“Jace brought up a point I hadn’t thought of. As you know we need more dragon riders.” she looks to me and I’m trying to think where this is going and why Jace and Baela didn’t mention this back at Harrenhal.

“Of course, more riders would help immensely.” I nod my head in agreement.

“Throughout the years many of our family members have been married off and our blood still runs through their veins. No matter how loosely, they still carry the ability to claim a dragon.” she looks at me as if I’m supposed to know the point shes trying to make.

“You want us to find dragonseeds?” I tilt my head.

“Ben has dragon blood in him.” her eyes look to me.

“Mother,” my voice breaks as my heart stops. She can’t possibly be serious.

“Y/n he has the best chances of bonding with Vermithor.” her words hushed as she takes in the terror in my eyes.

“Vermithor? I’ve had but one moon with him and you want to feed him to a dragon?” my voice rises bordering on hysteria.

“Let’s have him try and bring both Silverwing and Vermithor some cattle tomorrow. Ben’s scent is all over Silverwing so he’ll have the opportunity to get used to it. If it starts to look like Vermithor won’t accept him we will get him out of harms way. Silverwing shares your feelings so I’m sure she wouldn’t allow any harm to come to Ben.” she looks to me with pleading eyes.

I know she wouldn’t ask unless she absolutely needed to. My mind is turning over the information that she’s given me and I start to get dizzy. I rise from my chair placing my cup on the table between us. I strengthen my resolve and look to her with hard eyes.

“I’ll talk with him and we will see you in the morning. Your Grace.” I nod my head and leave through the doors.

“Y/n,” she calls after me but the doors have already groaned shut.

I sprint up the stairs and push through my chamber doors and seal them behind me placing my head on them to steady my breathing. I groan and press my head harder into the stone in hopes that we can become one and I won’t have to deal with this.

“What’s wrong, my Princess?” Ben’s voice is laced with worry as he grabs my arms and turns me towards him.

When I see him look at me with confusion the tears start to trickle down my cheeks. He pulls me into his chest as I continue to sniffle. Rhaena couldn’t even claim a dragon and almost lost her life in the process. I was foolish and reckless enough to get Silverwing. Ben was never raised to learn the language or the ways of dragons. I can’t send him to his death. I won’t have it.

I pull him out to the balcony in silence as we take in the violent sea that crashes against the shore. He turns to me and looks to me in silent question. I bring him to my couch and pull him down next to me as I let out a breathy sigh.

“My mother is asking something almost impossible of us.” I look to him with watery eyes.

“Whatever it is, we can do it together. I know this.” he kisses my hand waiting for me to continue.

“They’ve begun sourcing dragonseeds in hopes of having more dragon riders for the war.” I start with a trembling voice.

“What is a dragonseed?” Ben looks to me confused.

“The children of my ancestors who married into other houses. The blood and magic still flows through their veins no matter how little is left from over the many years.” I feel a tear slip over the edge and Ben is quick to wipe it away.

“Who are they wanting us to find?” he smoothes my hair and pulls me into a hug to try and soothe me.

“It seems as if I brought one to them. They have no issue ripping you away from me.” I pull back and search his eyes.

“Me?” his voice barely a whisper as he looks to me confused. “Do you think I could claim a dragon?” his eyes look to mine as he asks my opinion.

“I think you can do anything, but in the back of my mind I’m so terrified, Ben. I can’t lose you. I’ve only just gotten you.” my voice breaks and I’m mad at how whiny it comes out.

“You won’t lose me. I promise.” he murmurs as he grabs my hand.

“Claiming a dragon is just something you do on whim. Rhaena still hasn’t succeeded and she was raised and trained to claim one. Rhaenyra asking this is absolute madness.” I shake my head trying to rein in my emotions.

“Silverwing seems to like me just fine.” he offers to try and make me feel better.

“That’s because I like you, Ben. Immensely. Our feelings are intertwined.” I try to focus on my breathing so I don’t rile myself up again.

“Then teach me. I want to try. I want to help in anyway I can.” he searches my eyes.

“Rhaenyra plans to have us start this in the morning. I will be at your side the entire time. No harm will come to you.” my words seeming to console me more than him. Worry still courses through me at all of the possibilities but I begin to think of us commanding the skies together and I seem to settle a bit more.

“If you’re by my side then I have nothing to worry about. I will do this for Rhaenyra, but I want you to know that I am yours before I am anyone else’s.” he pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. I lean down and place a soft kiss on his lips. That one kiss only serves to spur us on as our lips lock once more. His hands fly to my back and pull me closer to him.

“I need you,” I sigh breathlessly reaching between us to unlace his trousers.

Our mouths mold back together as he begins to bunch my skirts up to my waist. His hands travel along my bare thighs squeezing and caressing. He groans into my mouth as I finally free him of his pants and wrap my hand around his length.

“Fuck, Princess,” he pants and I start to pump him, swiping my thumb across his tip.

His hands are quick to find my wetness causing a shutter to course through my body. His hand wraps around mine so we can line him up at my entrance. I slowly sink down on to him as whimpers fall from my mouth. His hands go to my hips under my skirts and begins to move me slowly up and down.

Ben captures my lips in a passionate dance while our hips grind against each other desperately. Our bodies mold together as one while we take and give pleasure to one another. When his hand slides between us to my throbbing bud my head falls to his shoulder as I come undone around him as he begins to fill me. We stay wrapped up in each other, breathes mingling along with words of adoration.

He lifts me off of his lap and takes me into my chambers to avoid the chill that’s coming. Once we make it to my bed we undress each other before slipping under the covers. Ben holds me tightly and peppers kisses across my face. We cling to each other in silence for what feels like hours.

“Which dragon does she want me to try and claim?” he asks hushed.

“Vermithor.” I murmur as I see his eyes widen.

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masterlist

Part 4

p.s. no bc why am i down bad for ben blackwood bro

p.s.s. im actually kinda fucking w 3rd person pov and i may do another small pov in the next part of Jace and Baela at Harrenhal

tagging you as promised <3 @credulouskhaleesi

[slu7formen]

luke castellan x fem!reader

You knew that your friend, Luke, was a tease. What you didn’t expect, was that he was going to be a tease to you.

while I finish writing part two of this story (btw, thank u so much for all the love it’s getting) , I drop this one out here for the wait <3

warnings: teasing, praising, drinking, kinda s3xual tension

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The bonfire crackled merrily, casting flickering shadows on the faces of the demigods huddled around it. The air thrummed with the low beat of stolen music from a borrowed radio, a symphony of laughter and easy conversation punctuated by the clinking of ice inside your plastic cups. Exhaustion from a particularly harrowing week of monster attacks had finally settled in, driving the older campers to this clandestine revelry deep within the safe haven of the camp's woods.

Across from you, Clarisse was emerged in a play-fight with his brothers, not truly a good idea based on the drunken state they were in, but who would tell them otherwise? Travis and Connor were huddled together, their whispers punctuated by bursts of laughter that hinted at some upcoming evil plan or prank. You could practically see the gears turning in their heads. Silena leaned towards Katie’s ear, whispering some secret that boys couldn’t know about, her voice barely a murmur.

And Luke Castellan sat next to you, his presence warm and familiar. His profile bathed in the golden glow. You'd known him for years, a bond forged in shared battles and late-night training sessions. But lately, you'd begun to see him in a different light. The way his muscles tensed beneath his t-shirt as he tossed another log onto the fire, the glint in his dark eyes - it all sent a delicious flutter to your stomach.

Reaching for your empty plastic cup, you realized with a groan that you'd polished off your cranberry juice and vodka concoction. Glancing sideways at Luke, you noticed his cup held a suspicious-looking red liquid that gave off a pungent, almost medicinal smell. "Let me have a sip of yours" you declared, leaning towards him without even questioning.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. Your cheeks, flushed from the alcohol and the warmth of the fire, were undeniably red. Your lips, slightly puffy and wet, was not something his eyes would miss either. But he'd never admit the effect you had on him, not here, not amongst their friends.

"Not sure that's your thing, doll" he pointed out, looking down at his drink for a second. "You won´t like it"

You knew you were pushing your luck, but the defiance simmering in your blood, thanks to the vodka, wouldn't be ignored. "Come on, Luke" you pout, placing your chin on his shoulder. “If you can drink it, why can´t I?”

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I don't think you can handle it" he said with a little smirk on his face, the playful challenge in his eyes impossible to miss. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but a spark of competitive spirit ignited within you.

“Oh, yeah?” you challenged. “Just watch me, then” you declared, snatching the cup from his hand before he could protest. You were so sure of yourself. The liquid was a fiery red, the strong scent even more potent up close. You took a tentative sip.

It was horrible.

It was like drinking liquid fire infused with cough syrup. A strangled cough escaped your lips, your eyes watering. Luke chuckled slightly. You sputtered, almost spitting the liquid out in disgust.

Before you could fully react, Luke's hand cupped your chin, surprisingly gentle despite the rough calluses that adorned his palm. His eyes held a mischievous sparkle. "Take it all down now, you told me you could handle it"

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way his words sent a thrill down your spine, but you were determined not to back down, especially not in front of him. Fueled by a mix of pride, the burn of the liquid fire, and a strange flutter in your stomach thanks to Luke's closeness, you took another swig, then another, determined to finish it. You ignored the way your throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper and the fire that seemed to erupt in your gut.

Suddenly, a loud "Chug! Chug! Chug!" broke the silence. Travis and Connor, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, started a rhythmic chant. Silena and Katie soon joined in, their cheers echoing through the clearing. You choked down the rest of the concoction, gasping for air as it burned its fiery path down your throat.

The cheers reached a crescendo as you slumped back, eyes squeezed shut, your head swimming. As the commotion subsided, you dropped the plastic cup with a clatter. You felt dizzy, and your throat felt like someone had lined it with sandpaper, but a sense of accomplishment washed over you. You'd done it.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on your chin startled you. You blinked your eyes open to see Luke leaning in, his gaze holding a playful spark. With his thumb, he brushed away a stray droplet of the red liquid that had escaped your lips during your valiant chugging endeavor.

The simple gesture sent a jolt through you. It was so unexpected that your breath hitched in your throat. Then, in a move that stole the air from your lungs completely, he lifted his thumb to his lips and sucked off the red droplet. Eyes on yours, the whole time.

"Good girl" he murmured.

He turned away then, casually rejoining the conversation with Chris about their upcoming training session. But you couldn't tear your gaze from him. The playful glint in his eyes, the lingering warmth on your chin from his touch – it all played on repeat in your mind.

Gods, you thought, your head swimming from a potent mix of alcohol and newfound desire. You really wanted to be anywhere else right now. Anywhere with him, away from the prying eyes and teasing laughter of your friends. You felt crazy in the matter of just a few seconds. You couldn´t let this slide, you just couldn´t.

You couldn´t deny the wet patch on your panties either.

You stood up, maybe a little too fast for the state you were in, but you managed to look down to Luke, who was already looking into your eyes the moment you stood up.

“I´m going for a walk. Care to join me?”

inspired by this right here, with a little change <3

[jackles010378]

Confessions of the night...

Dean winchester x Y/n

No warnings, just pure fluff 💚

When it's Sam's turn to hook up and bring a women back to the motel room, you find dean sleeping in his car and invite him to sleep in your room.

Dean sat in the Impala, his mind racing with a mix of emotions. He had never been one to shy away from a good time, but this time was different. Usually, it was him who brought girls back to their motel room, but tonight it had been Sam who had hooked up. And it left him feeling a bit out of place.

After successfully getting rid of a wendigo, Dean, Sam and y/n went to the bar nearest the motel to let of a little steam. Y/n called an early night and left the boys at the bar. Dean wanted to walk y/n back to the motel but she told him to stay with Sammy and have fun.

Dean had caught the eye of a few women in the bar, but none had peaked his interest. What he didn't expect to see was Sammy playing tonsil hockey with a pretty brunette on his way back from the toilet. He stood frozen for a second but then had a proud look on his face as he thought to himself 'that's my boy'. Dean pulled his jacket off the back of the chair he'd been sitting in, momentarily interrupting the make out session between his brother and the girl sitting on his lap. He slid the room key over to Sammy saying "don't do anything I wouldn't" with a wink and a smirk.

As Sam and the girl disappeared into the motel room, Dean made up his mind to sleep in the Impala. Taking a swig from his trusty flask, he settled into the backseat, hoping the familiar scent of leather and oil would soothe his restless thoughts.

Meanwhile, Y/N, was making her way to the ice machine. Dressed in a t-shirt (that she had stolen from Dean) and shorts, she was surprised to see Dean sitting in the Impala in the dimly lit parking lot, she wondered if he and Sammy had had a fight after she had left them at the bar. She could sense his unease and decided to approach him.

"Hey, Dean," Y/N called out softly. Dean looked up, surprised to see her there. Y/N gestured towards her room. "You look like you could use a decent night's sleep. Why don't you come crash in my room? I promise I won't bite."

Dean hesitated for a moment, but the offer was too tempting to resist. He followed Y/N to her room, taking in her easy smile and the warmth that radiated from her. Settling in on the spare bed, y/n handing him a beer, Dean found himself opening up to Y/N in a way he rarely did with others.

As the night wore on, the two of them talked about everything under the sun - from hunting to childhood memories. Dean found himself drawn to Y/N's easy laughter and the genuine interest she showed in him. And before long, he found himself confessing his fears and doubts about their dangerous way of life.

Y/N listened intently, her eyes full of understanding and compassion. She reached out and took Dean's hand in hers, she moved over to sit by his side, the feeling of her by his side sent a rush of warmth through him. In that moment, Dean knew he had found someone who saw past the tough exterior he presented to the world.

As the night turned to early morning, Dean and Y/N found themselves inching closer together. Their shared confessions had forged a deep bond between them, one that neither wanted to let go of. And as the first light of dawn peeked through the window, Dean leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Y/N's lips. "So much for sleeping huh" y/n said as they broke away from each other, foreheads resting upon each other.

The kiss was soft and fleeting, but it spoke volumes of the emotions swirling between them. Dean pulled back, his heart hammering in his chest as he searched Y/N's eyes for any sign of regret. But all he saw was warmth and affection, mirrored in her gaze "took you long enough winchester" y/n said with a smirk on her face.

In that moment, Dean knew he had found something real and worth fighting for. And as he held Y/N close, he let go of his doubts and fears, embracing the possibility of a new beginning. Sam might have been the one to bring a girl back to the motel room, but tonight, it was Dean who found something truly special with Y/N.

Taglist:

@nescavaneckdaily @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @angelbabyyy99 @cheynovak @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33

[ophelieverse]

Oppy my baby,can you please please please take in consideration to write something about my man Cregan Stark?🥺🥺

⊹˚₊only you could have called me back home

Cregan Stark x fem!reader

-Summary:reader is from house Manderly and she meets Cregan when they are kids,during his stay at her house she reads him a book about mermaids to help him sleep during a storm.Years later he does the same thing for their children.

-I finally gave in and decided to try.This is the first time that I write for Cregan,even though i love him very much and i can’t wait to see him(I pictured in my mind Tom Taylor)so forgive me if this sucks.

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It was night,late evening.

The sky,which was usually a dark blue,was covered by a thick blanket of gray clouds that made the stars and that moon disappear,which were supposed to illuminate New Castle of White Harbor.The blue blazon with the green merman holding a trident,symbolizing House Manderly,was dancing in the wind.

A little girl,who seemed to be not older than eight years old,was observing the world and that summer storm,one of many she had seen in just a month.Sitting in her chamber,on the carpet in front of the window that brought into that small balcony,curled up and with her arms hugging her legs,she let her eyes get lost in counting the thousands of droplets that rested on that sheet of glass.

She began to stare at a drop of rain,trying to see it flow along the entire length of the window.But this one soon disappeared,bursting into smaller droplets or joining others.

For Lady Y/n Manderly,the rain made everything so fascinating.

She came closer to the glass,almost squashing her face against the door-windows and waiting for a thunder to arrive.She had never been afraid of thunderstorms,quite the contrary.She found them fascinating.She still couldn't conceive that all that noise and lights came from nature and not from something created by men.

Watching a thunderstorm was more interesting than reading a book.Her mother used to read her dozen of them to help her sleep at night,especially during storms like this one.But at the end,the books in their library all looked alike and never change final.If she didn't want to read them anymore she could just close them.While thunderstorms are unexpected and uncontrollable.But above all,always different.

People can never predict the duration or intensity of a thunderstorm.You can just try to guess or stay and observe it.And Y/n loved to see thunderstorms.

But that wasn't the case for everyone.

The little girl knew for sure that there was someone who instead hated them and had a big fear of them.A young boy,just of two years older than she was,the son of the protector of the North,had revealed that he was very afraid of storms during one.

Lord Rickon Stark had arrived to White Harbor four nights before,just in time for dinner,to discuss with Lord Desmond Manderly,Y/n father,about the union of their houses.A calm but still noisy storm was what welcomed them,alongside the blue and green blazon of New Castle.

Y/n didn't understand what was scary about those lights and noises,but she couldn't help but think about what the boy was feeling at the time.

That boy who was also her husband to be once they would be old enough to marry.They already knew each other,they had met in different occasions and places,yet they had never forged a particular bond or friendship.

Their characters were particularly different and they both knew that they would find themselves colliding easily if they became friends.Moreover, there had never been a particular opportunity to get to know each other better.They were always surrounded by their families,politicians and maidens.

They were simply two children,two heirs of big and powerful houses and one day they will become husband and wife.Nothing more,nothing less.

And yet,at that moment Y/n was just thinking.She was just thinking about Cregan.That was his name and what he had told her to call him when she had addressed him as “Lord Stark” with a polite bow.

Y/n wondered if he wasn't scared.

She remembered once,when there was a tournament in Lannisport,he didn’t showed up to see the horses in the morning when it started to rain.Once again,during a visit a the Wall he had been more restless than usual when he had heard the sound of the thunders.

But didn't the dark sky of the evening emphasize the whole thing even more?

Y/n loved night thunderstorms,she found them even more impressive.But also scary.Especially now that her mother was heavily pregnant and needed to stay in bed to rest,meaning that she couldn’t read her stories to help her sleep better.

In Y/n that fear gave a sudden adrenaline rush,but in Cregan no,she could have said it with certainty.So,after thinking about it for too long,the little girl got up,took the cloak on the chair and without even thinking anymore,she opened the window-door wide and within seconds she found herself on the balcony,while the rain was beginning to increase slowly.

That wing of the castle was where both Y/n and her brothers chambers were,the same place where young Cregan was staying,in the room right next to hers.

Y/n stayed for a while to observe the sky,and the drops of rainwater falling on the palm of her hand that she had turned upwards,fascinated by everything as a child could be.But she hadn't gone out to the balcony to admire all that,no.

If she had only wanted to do that,she would have been content to sit in front of the front door-windows as she had until then,instead of getting wet.

No,Y/n had gone out to check on Cregan.To make sure that he was alright.

Their balconies were connected,divided only by a low wall of light bricks.She had often seen the young boy on that balcony in those days,watching people occupying those crowded streets or just wanting to breathe some air.

And on those occasions they had just waved to each other politely with kind smiles.

Y/n knew that the window on that balcony led to the room where Cregan was staying.

Still in the rain,half protected by the windowsill of the upper floor,she barely reached out her neck to observe the young boy room.But it was dark and the curtains were pulled,a sign that Cregan was probably already sleeping,as he would on any night.

The little Lady wanted to call herself a fool for coming out of her room just to make sure that he was okay,a boy whose she exchanged a few words and nothing else.The same boy that one day would have been her husband but the she didn’t knew nothing about.

Yet,in some way,she was relieved.Relieved that he was not awake yet and afraid of those thunders.

A part of Y/n wanted to go back into her room and go back admiring that storm from behind the glass plate of the window,but first she got closer to the wall that separated her from her neighbor.

To,she said to herself,just to check more closely.Just to make sure.

But check what exactly?

Y/n shook her head.She really had to be out of her mind if now she was worried about an almost - stranger that seemed to not like her at all.She made to retrace her steps,when a curled figure caught her attention.

Sitting on the ground,with his shoulders leaning against the wall of that balcony and with a black cloak on him,he stood with his head hidden by the hood.Still like a statue,with his arms around his legs.Half of his body was protected under the windowsill,while the other half was being wet by that rainwater.

Y/n tilted her head to the side,confused.

“Who is that?And what are they doing?”she wondered.

Even though she knew very well who it was.It couldn't be anyone other than him.

«Cregan?»Y/n spoke without having the slightest control over her voice,attracting the attention of the boy.

Cregan raised his head,which he had kept sunk between his legs until that moment,turning his head then towards the young lady on the other side of the wall.His eyes were usually clear and calm,but now they were wide open with astonishment.

Wide in a way that Y/n couldn't but find adorable.

She ignored these thoughts and just reopened her mouth«What are you doing out here?Don't you see .. ?It's raining.»she asked with a soft tone.

“As if i hadn't noticed,Y/n”Cregan wanted to tell her with a little voice.He wouldn't have put on his cloak if he hadn't seen the rain.

But a part of him decided to keep his mouth closed.Lady Y/n was immensely pretty under the pale moonlight and wet by the rain.He had always been fascinated by her,by the way her eyes shined bright and the way she talked fast about something she liked and knew about.She made him nervous to speak whenever he was around her,she was far smarter and wiser than him even at that young age,always so kind and he was afraid to make a fool out of himself.Especially when he was still scared of thunderstorms.

Cregan didn't answer,just staring at her with his big blue eyes.

«Are you hurt?»Y/n brown furrow as she scanned his pale face to find something.

The rain kept falling and it seemed that its intensity continued to increase as the seconds passed.The trees in front of that castle moved to the right and left,driven by a force they already knew,but which they were still unable to repel.

Cregan shook his head and then spoke«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he just said.

Y/n nodded«I know that.But why are you outside?»she offered him a kind smile.

Cregan seemed to think about it for a while, undecided whether to say everything to her or keep shut up.But there was something in her,something that was pulling in from the inside.Something that was screaming at him to tell her everything that he was afraid of,because with her it would be safe,she would have kept him safe.She would’ve understood him and comforted him.

He chose the second option and returned to stare at an indefinite point of his cloak,hoping that the young lady with wet hair and sweet eyes would soon leave,leaving him alone.As he had only been until recently.

One day Cregan would have been Lord Stark,protector of the great North and he needed to learn to not be afraid of thunderstorms on his own.But Y/n presence,the little girl that would become his wife,was louder than any thunder and brighter than any light.

In fact she had no intention of leaving.

«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he found himself repeating and then adding«I really can't stand them.»he murmured.

She listened to him carefully,standing in front of that little wall,while Cregan continued to turn his back on her and look down as he spoke again:

«I can't sleep when there are thunderstorms.And being alone in the room,in the dark with only sudden flashes to illuminate,is scary.»he explained quietly.

Y/n nodded sympathetically,although she didn't find anything scary at all in his description.But for once she tried to put herself on Cregan side.

«So why don't you go to your father?My mother always makes me sleep with her when I have nightmares.»she asked with curiosity.

Cregan shook his head,clutching in that heavy cloak«He doesn’t want to.He say I have to overcome my fears sooner or later.»he said,with a glint of sadness in his eyes.

Y/n curled her nose,confused«And do you get over them by standing in the rain?»squeezing her hands to create a little bit of warmth.

This time he took some time to respond.

Then,shifting his gaze towards the horizon«It's less scary.I can see the lights of the villages and the boats passing by and I know I'm not the only one awake.I know I'm not alone.»he found himself admitting«It's less scary.Or at least I think…»

He didn't know why he was saying these things.Especially to her.For all his ten almost eleven years he had carried that fear of his with him without saying anything to anyone.Revealing his fear only to himself.And seeking comfort only in him.

A comfort that most of the time was not enough.

His father kept telling him that he was grown up by now,that he had to overcome his fear of thunderstorms by now.A fear that was too childish for his age.For the Lord he was destined to be.How could he protect people when he was the first to be scared?He needed to start acting like a man.

But how adult can a ten year old be?

Without meditating on his words,Y/n replied«And are you going to stay out here all night?Until the thunderstorm stops?»her angel face was worried.

Cregan just nodded,without staring at her directly in the eyes.The little girl made a grimace that the other could not see.It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.Yet she still didn't find the strength to leave him alone.Leave him there alone and go back to her room.

Y/n had felt,she had felt for a few seconds,almost a perceptible thread that drew her to Cregan.Maybe she was just imagining everything. Maybe it was just her childish mind that was playing tricks on her.Or maybe it was just that summer storm fault.

She didn't know,but now she felt tied to the boy with the dark cloak and blue eyes.

«Come.»Y/n voice was firm and warm.

Cregan jolted,surprised to still hear the young girl voice.He thought she had returned to the heat of her room by now.And instead there she is,on the other side of the low wall,reaching out to him with a pure smile on her face.

“She’s cute when she smiles.”Cregan immediately thought,noticing her soft eyes and all her teeth shining in the light of the torches in the street.

He also found her so reassuring.That kind of safety that he desperately needed.

«Where?»he asked confused.

Y/n smiled at him again,getting closer and reaching out her hand again,almost touching his face making him shiver.

«If you spend the night out here you're going to get sick.If you don't want to be alone,I'll keep you company.»she stated fiercely and he knew nothing would’ve changed her mind.

They were simple words.Words of a child of eight,almost nine,years old.Yet Cregan swore he had never heard such beautiful words.No one had ever given him such attention and didn't know whether or not to trust that young lady.

They had met numerous times and now they were even betrothed to each other,but they weren’t exactly friends.

And Cregan was very skeptical to those he knew very little.Especially the ones that made him feel nervous just by looking at him.

He decided to refuse Y/n invitation.

But when he made to decline the offer,the first of many flashes lit up the sky,followed by a noise so loud that raised Cregan hair,or more commonly called thunder.

The boy snapped to his feet in fear.Perhaps the idea of going out,so as not to stay in the dark of his room,had not been the best.Or maybe it was the worst idea that had ever occurred to him and only now did he find it stupid.

«So?Are you coming or not?»Y/n called for his attention again,noting the thin veil of blush on his pale cheeks.

She was younger than him by only two years,yet she was still more mature than him.She had this aura surrounding her,of someone that would have took care of him.Someone he could really start to trust and lay down his strength.A little sun,personal and only for him,to remind him that the storms he was so afraid of were only temporary while she would have been by his side forever.

Cregan found himself shaking Y/n hand,who helped him climb over the wall that divided them, and in a moment he was on the other balcony.

He crossed his eyes again with those of his future wife,who immediately answered him with another sweet smile and opened the window door,to let him enter in the warmth of her room and protect him from that storm.

Immediately closed the door behind them and,after a moment of uncertainty she spoke first«Give me your cloak,i’ll put it here with mine so that tomorrow the servants can wash them.»she told him,taking her off to remain in her pink nightgown.

Cregan blushed even more as he nodded as if in a trance and took off his dark cloak,handing it over to her and revealing a pastel-colored pajamas.

He thought it was impossible for a room to look like it owner,but Y/n bedroom was just like her:a mess of colors,books everywhere and with a pleasant warmth that made him feel safe.

«Why are you still awake?»Cregan suddenly asked,trying to not move around too much.

The little girl took two pillows from her bed and a blanket,walking to the fluffy carpet in front of the old fireplace that the servants had lighted up before she went to bed,once the thunderstorm had started.

«I like to watch the storms.»she said,patting the empty space next to her with one hand«Also,now that my mother is pregnant and my father stays up with his advisors,i need to check on her.»she continues.

Cregan looked at her carefully,the long hair falling free on her shoulders,her perfect face.He was right,she so much mature than he was,already taking care of everyone around her at such a young age,just like a proper lady should.

As he took place next to her on the pavement,still keeping a proper distance between them,Cregan realized that he didn't know anything about her.But he knew how much she loved her mother as he always saw the two of them holding hands.He didn't know if she had the same relationship with her father,who seemed to prefer her older brothers,but he still didn't have enough closeness to ask her for more information.

In fact,they had absolutely no closeness and it could be seen in the silence that fell between the two children.One of those silences that always arise in similar situations,when two people don't know each other but have to spend time together.

«Would you like to do something?»Y/n calm voice sounded even more melodious up close.

She tried to mask that awkwardness with a polite tone,asking her guest with a kind expression.

Cregan spoke little and for the rest of the time he just agreed or disagreed on a certain statement.

The younger of the two was shrinking her minds to think of some kind of game to play together, but the boy next to her would just stare at her,frowning,as if he was annoyed by that situation,while standing close to window of that room like he wanted to escape that situation.

Y/n curled her nose,bored by that sudden superior attitude that Cregan was carrying on himself.

«Look,you can still go back in the rain if you prefer.»she told him,with a sour tone.

She felt bad to see him frightened by that thunderstorm,but if he didn't even show her a minimum of gratitude or a spirit of collaboration, then he could very well leave.Y/n was a sunny child,always with a smile on her face and ready to raise the morale of anyone who needed it.

But“This boy is really unpleasant”she thought.

Cregan crossed his arms to his chest,squeezing his eyes and staring at her,offended and angry at the same time.He thought that he shouldn’t have accepted her invitation and that both their fathers had made a mistake by promising them.They would never get along.

He could very well go back to his room and overcome that storm on his own,as he had always done until then.He didn’t need Y/n help.He made a grimace in the direction of the little girl,who responded to the gesture by raising her eyes to the sky.

But when he was about to open the window door and return to his room,without his dark cloak,a flash illuminated the sky and his face.

Cregan eyes went wide,as he was falling backwards and ending up on the ground on his butt as he waited for the arrival of the thunder that did not take long to arrive.His lower lip trembled,while he couldn't move any muscle.

He hated how thunderstorms could do this to him.He hated how they could make him tremble and frighten.

“They are a normal thing,dictated by nature”his father had always told him.

Yet Cregan didn't believe it.He continued to hate thunderstorms.

And something told him that this fear of his would never go away.

«Cregan.... are you all right?»he heard a soft voice behind his back.

Cregan looked up and saw Y/n standing on her knees on the carpet and he only remembered at that moment of her presence.

The boy gasped,looking for an answer.But before he could speak,another flash lit up the room,and before the thunder could be heard,Cregan had already put his hands on his ears.

The arrogant facade,which he had previously put on,had now completely crumbled, revealing his insecure and frightened side.

Y/n didn't know what to do.

The annoyed face she had a little while ago,was gone.Now she was really worried for him.She just wanted to find a way to distract him,and to put an end to that clash of lights that illuminated the room.

Cregan did not move,with his head resting on his bent knees,and the palms of his hands were still covering his ears,in the vain hope of not hearing that almost metallic and shackled noises.

«It’s alright,don't worry.»Y/n tried to reassure him.But it seemed that no one could move the young boy.

«They usually just make a big noise and then they go away.»she continued with a reassuring voice getting closer to him.

But Cregan was still shaking, scared,and Y/n didn't know what to do.She was never scared of thunderstorms.She would have liked to hold him tight in a hug,to drive away all his fear.But she knew that if she did,she would only make things worse.

In the meantime,Cregan continued to make himself small,smaller and smaller,curled up almost on himself on that light pavement.

«I mean…deep down it's just water,isn't it?Water and lights.As if it were an ocean... and the oceans are beautiful,aren't they,Cregan?»she asked with a hint of hope.

Y/n was used to the water,she lived near the sea and she had grew up running up and down on her fathers boats with her brothers.Her mothers read her stories about fishes,sailors,mermen and mermaids.

And while he did not respond,too busy controlling his fear,Y/n came up with an idea.

«I know what to do!»she almost screamed,catching Cregan attention and shicking around the room,as if looking for something.

The boy looked at her confused,forgetting – but only for a short time – of the thunderstorm.

«There you are.»Y/n exhaled,almost relieved.

Cregan blinked,observing the more confusion she had created throughout that room,the books scattered on the floor and the cabinets wide open,just for that medium-sized old book she now held in her hands,with a proud and satisfied smile.He didn't understand what use that book could have,but he didn't breathe,limiting himself to observing the young girl sitting carefully next to him and opening it.

And then millions of billions of fishes began to swim between the old pages.Cregan mouth widened into an “o”, but he quickly closed it again before Y/n could notice his astonishment.It's just a very simple book of fairy tales,he said to himself.

Yet,in some way,it had distracted him.

«If you lie down on the bed,you can see them better.»Y/n spoke,making herself comfortable on her bed and starting to turning the pages.

Cregan grimaced,watching how she was smiling.That wasn’t proper.

«Why should I lie down-»yet another thunder«Alright... I lie down.»he immediately changed his mind.

He hurriedly took the steps that separated him from that bed,before sinking into the lavander sheets that smelled of flowers and vanilla.

Y/n by his side smiled at him.But Cregan didn’t,remaining impassive and jolting at every thunder.She closed the curtains around her bad,only the soft light of the candle on the nightstand remain.The 'lightning' factor had been solved.

«They're beautiful,aren’t they?»she said,tracing with her fingers the different fishes.

They were.Their shapes,colors,sizes were mesmerizing.

Cregan didn't know to answer again.Those bright,fishes seemed to moved quickly on all those pages in a continuous flow.They were simple,so damn simple,yet they had caught the his attention.

«Yes,they ar–»he tried to agree with her,but here's yet another thunder made him jump out of fear.

Y/n by his side watched him close his eyes and plug his ears with both hands.

She had to find a way to distract him from the sounds too.

«You see him?»she turned the page and pointed to a strange figure on the right corner.

A man with a tail of a fish.

Cregan turned to her,taking his hands off his ears and moving his eyes on what Y/n finger was pointing to.

«It’s a merman?»he sounded uncertain,the figure on the book looked like the blazon of house Manderly.

Y/n nodded her head confirming his question«They said that he loved another mermaid and when the pirates had captured her,driven by grief,he turned his body in marble creating White Harbor.»she explained him,showing him another picture of the place where now she was living.

Cregan looked confused,his eyebrows raising«Why would he do that?»

The girl next to him sighed,her shoulder touching his,the sweet perfume of her hair was tickling his nose.She was warm and soft and made his stomach twist and his hands sweat.

«I guess that he couldn’t live without her and preferred to die.»she simply answered«Years ago i used to cry when my mother read me this story.»she continued as she flipped the page.

In the dim light,he could see that her eyes were a little glassy and only now he remembered that just like him,she was still a child with fears like him and stories that made her cry in her mother arms.

«How about her?»Cregan eyes and hand went to point to a female picture.

A mermaid with a red tale and long wet red hair on her shoulders,sitting on a rock near the coast.Her beautiful expression seemed pained,her mouth opened as if she was saying something.In the distance seemed that a storm was coming,the waves crashing into the shore,dark clouds on the horizon.

Y/n smiled,stretching the book out to him so that he could take a better look«She was a princess that fell in love with a sailor.Her father,the King of the fourteen seas had forbidden their love.»she started to explain with a soft tone«They could see each other only on the beginning of the Long Summer,when her father was away in the ocean»she said.

Cregan yawned«And how did they knew when the Long Summer came?»he seemed genuinely interested now.

«The storm.»Y/n quickly answered«It was her way to let him know that she was waiting for him.She was calling him back to her.»in her expression he could find a hint of teasing.

He shuddered,the thing that scared him the most,for this children book,was just a mermaid calling for her lover.

«But how does he know?»he asked again and his voice was becoming softer,his eyes closing a bit,yet he stayed very curious about the story.

«Does he know what?»Y/n whispered.

«That it was her.»he continued.

«Because he had loved no else but her in his life.Only her could have called him back home.»she explained and he swore he could’ve seen her eyes shine bright.

«I hate her father.»Cregan mumbled.

He found it stupid,it was just a fairy tale to help people sleep,but if the mermaid father didn’t get in the way tonight he would’ve been scared.And that’s also must had been the reason why she wasn’t afraid of them.

Y/n giggles made him blush,as she shook a little onto him«But you know what’s the best part of it?For the rest of the summer there wouldn’t be any other storms,just the bright sun as the two of them could be together.»she whispered.

It was a way to say that after every thunderstorm that would’ve been the sun.Always.

«Wasn’t she scared of her father founding out that they were still together?»his voice was sleepy and his eyes heavy.

Y/n shook her head«Love is stronger than fear.»she stated«Don’t you find it beautiful?»she said then,a dreamy look in her eyes.

There was no answer.

Y/n turned to him,finding him with his eyes closed and his mouth half-open.His chest would rise and fall at a regular pace,while his slight breathing could be heard.She smiled at that sight as she stroked his hair.

Cregan had fallen asleep.Y/n was satisfied.Satisfied and happy.

She succeeded in her intent,help him and distract him from the thing that scared him the most.She wondered what Cregan would do at this time if Y/n hadn’t invited him?

He would probably still have been awake.Because the thunderstorm hadn't stopped,no,it had never stopped.The mermaid was still calling for her lover.

The flashes,however,had mixed in the images on the pages and the noise of thunder had been lost among the stories of Y/n mermaids.Cregan had been so busy observing those images drawn on the book and hating the King of the seas,that he completely forgot about the thunderstorm.

Y/n closed the book,placed it carefully on her nightstand and reached out to grab a thin sheet at the bottom of their feet and covered the young boy who slept well by her side.

«Good night,Cregan.Tomorrow there will be the sun,i promise you.»she whispered kissing his forehead and drifting to sleep too.

And for the first time,after so many years,he slept.After so many years,Cregan was sleeping peacefully with a thunderstorm.

On any day in the early summer,ten years later,Lady Y/n Stark of Winterfell was laying in the bed she shared with her Lord husband.

Wife and husband,that’s what her and Cregan had been for the past four years.But before pronouncing their vows in front of the Seven and their families,they had became the best of friends.

When did they start calling each other that way?When did they become friends?Could they find a precise moment when they had gone from being strangers to even best friends?Were they able to establish the exact moment when their bond changed?

No,they couldn’t.

Maybe it was the year after that fateful rainy night.Maybe it was the next month when Cregan had spent all of his moments and attention in Y/n presence,falling in love with her more and more.

Or maybe it had happened at the exact time their hands had touched,when Y/n had proposed to be together in that thunderstorm,to mark the point of change for their relationship.

They didn't know that though.Neither of them knew for sure.But they didn't even ask.They fell in love with each other before they got married and that was that mattered.There are bonds that are born before the interlocking of the hands and connections that are born before touching each other.It was just pretty to think that,all this time,there was some kind of invisible string that was tying them together.

Anyone who cared for Cregan had to understand that he needed a little looking after.Someone who could help him sleep,who reminded him that he was just human and that he could still a child sometimes.And Y/n understood that,she held him gently,far more gently that anyone ever did.She stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep at night,she stood next to him to greet the arrival of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and supported him in his decision to fight for the Dragon Queen.

All because she loved him more than anything and because he loved her.To love and to be loved was to rest.

Yet,now that Cregan was away,on the Wall of the great north with the young prince,Y/n couldn’t seem to find sleep.It was raining heavily outside,the long summer had arrived earlier that year and a violent storm was what welcomed it.

The pale rays of the moon filtered through the clouds,the wind was blowing against the windows,the lights of the lightning shaped the dark room she was in.

Cregan had ruined her,she thought to herself,ever since they got married and started to share the bed she couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t next to her,holding her in his arms,kissing her lips softly and whispering how much he loved her.But she knew that,with the war at their doorstep,he was busy with the young prince Jacaerys who came two weeks ago in ask for the help of the North.

Her husband was a man of honor,the Lord of Winterfell that never forget his oaths.

When a particular loud thunder broke through the quietness of the castle,Y/n got up from her bed.Taking the candle on the nightstand,she started walking down the dark corridor to reach her children chambers.Her sons,Rickon and Brandon,only four and two years old,looked exactly like their father:true men of the north but with their mother eyes and kind smile.

Just like their father they were scared of storms,it took her hours to put them to bed that night since the first drop of rain had hit the ground.They both reminded her the first time that she had spent with Cregan during one of those,curling up on her as she read them one of her books to help them sleep.

But that night was different,after two weeks of writing letters and longing,Cregan was finally home.As she quietly opened the door,the candle that Y/n was holding in her hand almost fell,when she saw her husband sitting on a chair in between the two beds where their sons seemed to sleep so soundly and well.

He was still wearing his dark fire coat and his long were wet,the tip of his nose red from the cold,while in his hands he was holding a old fairy tale book that they both knew very well.As if he had heard her behind the door,he smiled,and his face was like the sun.

He had came back as soon as he had heard the first sounds of the thunders,like a sailor bewitched by the melody of a siren voice.His sons were the first ones to greet him,running barefoot down the hallways to reach comfort in their father strong arms.

Cregan had been there before,his heart clenched in his chest as he dried the tears off their eyes and saw the fear on their little faces.But he knew what he had to do,unlike his father,he would always be there for help his children no matter what.

«The mermaid had waited all winter for her lover return,her voice guided him through the storm.»his voice was quiet and soft like a warm blanket«With the first lights of the new sun,he came back to her.»in his hands the hold book.

His oldest son yawned«But wasn’t he afraid of the storm?»Rickon asked,holding his teddy bear closer to his chest.

«He was.»Cregan nodded«But you know what is stronger than fear?»he whispered,noticing his younger son fast asleep.

Rickon shook his head,his eyes fighting to urge to close«What?»he chirped.

«Love.»his father simply answered«The idea of coming back to his lover was stronger than the fear of the storm.»Cregan stood up,caressing his son head.

«One day i want to love someone this much.Just like you love mama.»Rickon murmured sleepy,with a little smile on his face.

«And you will.»he promised«One day you will have someone that will help you overcome your fears and that will always call you back home when you are wondering too far.»he kissed both of his sons forehead.

Cregan was still a little nervous about storms,but that night he was finally back home as sun on water.Y/n reached for him and skimmed her hands over the light of him.

«I missed you.»she whispered on his lips,kissing him sweetly.

Cregan was holding her in his arms,gently caressing her hair,his forehead on hers«I saw the storm and i knew.»he smiled,trailing his lips on her chin and cheeks.

Y/n shivered,not only because his icy fingers were rubbing up and down her back,but because only her could understand the meaning of those words.The intimacy of having something only them could share with each other.

«So you came back early because of the storm?»she giggled as his beard tickled her beautiful face.

He smiled even more,tightening his grip on her smaller body«I came back because of you.Only you could have called me back home.»he whispered placing a kiss on her lips.

The smell of her hair,the taste of her mouth,the feeling of her skin seemed to have gotten inside of him or in the air all around him.She had become a physical necessity,not only to ease his fear,but to have someone to come back to.

She placed her head on his chest,listening to his heartbeat beating alongside hers.They stood there for a moment more,embracing each other,in the dark corridor.

«Do you hear it?»Y/n softly asked suddenly.

«Hear what?»Cregan voice was low.

«The sound of the rain.»she explained,closing her eyes and relaxing against his touch.

For a while they just listened to the incessant ticking of the rain,while a thousand fish continued to swim on the pages of their book.

But suddenly a flash illuminated the corridor,followed by the due thunder.

Y/n jolted,expecting her husband to do the same.

Yet this was not the case«Aren't you afraid of thunderstorms anymore?»she teased him.

«How can I be afraid of thunderstorms when I'm by your side?»he said,caressing her cheek lovingly.

«Tomorrow there will be the sun.»she smiled against him,brighter than any light.

She was right,after the storm there was always the warm weather and Y/n was the golden sun at the horizon.That one thing that gave him hope for a brighter future,the only one that could bring him back home.Because his sleepless nights are better with her than any nights could ever be alone.

[secretlyobito]

Arranged marriage! Itachi x Reader

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Itachi must choose between massacring his clan or marrying the hokage's granddaughter.

Contains: arranged marriage, Hiruzen hate(lol), mean itachi, use of genjustsu on reader, angst.

“Itachi, you’re not here to report this conflict is miraculously over I suppose?” the old man, hiruzen rasps out noticing the slightly vacant expression on Itachi’s face before taking another puff of his pipe. To make himself feel better, Itachi often assumed the substance in Hiruzen’s pipe was crack.

“There was nothing I could do about it, the clan elders have decided to overthrow the village….. tomorrow night”

The room was silent for a solid minute, the atmosphere as thick as a fog. Hiruzen sighs glancing at Itachi’s kneeling form before him, his shoulder’s slumped and his fists clenched.

“Stand up Itachi, we knew this was coming……I suppose you know what you have to do now” Itachi gets up, his head still down as he clenches his teeth, his shoulders shaking in panic. Why did it have to end up this way? Why did he have to be the one to take care of it? What was going to happen to Sasuke?

Hiruzen glances over Itachi’s distraught form with pity, he knew it was incredibly unfair and selfish to ask the boy to dispose of his clan for the sake of the village. Nevertheless, Hiruzen had a duty to protect the village’s interests above anything else. His mind drifts as he smokes his pipe, there was another way out of this he had though of but it was a gamble, he personally hoped it wouldn’t have to come up.

“Itachi, it saddens me to have to ask this of you, you are like a son to me” he turns around and sits on the window sill “so I offer you two choices today, dispose of the Uchiha or……….marry my granddaughter”

“…what?”

Hiruzen lets out another puff, giving Itachi time to process his words. “Marry your granddaughter” Itachi repeats almost dumbfounded.

“A union between you and one of my own will force a personal stake for both the Uchiha and the village to maintain peace”

".............."

“….what if I just murder her” Itachi’s cold voice rings out, Hiruzen glances at him. It’s a plausible question, Hiruzen can’t argue with that. “then you would give me the reason I need to forge ahead with the execution of the Uchiha clan for good” Hiruzen replies just as cold, the old man was far from stupid, he knew Itachi couldn’t feel all rainbows and sunshines towards him considering what he had put the boy through, but he had to remind Itachi of his place.

“Our new familial bond will enable me to advocate more for your clan’s interest without protest from the village, It is exactly what we need to show your clan that they will always have a stake in this village”

“…”

“You have until tomorrow morning Itachi. The fate of the village is in your hands”

So here he was in the living room of his new marital home, gifted to him by Hiruzen, getting ready to meet his new…..wife, the mission paperwork in his hands long forgotten. Of course it had come to this, if this was what it was going to take to maintain peace and save his clan, Itachi was going to do it. His thoughts raced as he sat on the living room couch, he had no intention of cozying up to this stranger who was probably going to be a spy, after all that was exactly what Hiruzen made him do. He planned to get another apartment far from here, where he would use the excuse of missions to be as far away from her and the marriage as possible.

Knock knock

Itachi stiffens, she was here. Despite his completely calm expression, he felt his stomach twisting. His life would never be the same after this, he wondered what she would be like and desperately hoped she planned to keep her distance like he did. He walked over to the door slowly, each step felt like torture, he wished this was all a dream and that he would suddenly wake up. His pale hand reached for the door handle and slowly twisted it open.

A girl stood before him, she was noticeably shorter and seemed to be nervous, her gaze was fixated on something as she chewed her lip while twirling a strand off her hair absentmindedly. “ahem” he cleared his throat making her nearly jump out of her skin, very absentminded, he noted with a slightly disapproving look. Nevertheless, he pushes his displeasure away and holds out his hand politely, “you must be Y/N Sarutobi, its nice to meet you” she shakes his hand clumsily, still rattled from earlier “Nice to meet you as well Itachi-san” He gives her a once over before silently side stepping her, her eyes follow him in confusion as he grabs her luggage in the hallway, lugging it in. “oh! Thank you, you didn’t have to Itachi-san” “Just Itachi is fine” he responds without looking back at her as he drags the luggage into their shared room, the thought of sharing a room makes him cringe but once again, he pushes the thoughts aside. He’s doing this for those he loves, he repeats.

She stands in the living room fidgeting, he seemed cold. She muses taking in the living room, it was small and quaint, the perfect starting house for a new couple. She considers taking a tour round the house but freezes once Itachi re-enters the room. He sits at the table, resuming his mission paperwork not even sparing her a glance. Really? She thinks as she awkwardly stands in the middle of the living room, was he just going to pretend like she wasn’t here? She sighs as she sits at the table opposite from him, her eyes travelling over his features. He was very…pretty, his long lashes framed his obsidian eyes as he read, the stress lines that travelled along his face only adding to his charm. She takes in his dark hair tucked away into a low ponytail before her gaze moves over back to his eyes, she gasps as she realizes he’s already looking at her, his gaze unrevealing and his mouth in a straight line. “Nice hair” she awkwardly tries to explain why she’s staring at him, cringing as soon as the words leave her mouth. Itachi keeps looking at her for a few seconds before going back to his paperwork. She nearly groans in embarrassment before shifting awkwardly in her seat, why was he making this so hard? “I’ve heard a lot about you Itachi, your reputation precedes you” she tries again.

“is that so?” he replies not even looking up “yes” she chuckles “you’re quite the superstar at my workplace”. He finally glances up “and where is that?” his interest piqued. “I work at the villages intelligence department, in the hokage’s tower” she responds, happy he’s finally being responsive.

“Intelligence department….” He gives her a once over, clearly not convinced, his eyes going back to his paperwork “did your grandfather get you the job?” He asks almost innocently but she could feel the venom behind his words. Her smiled dropped from her face as the words leave his mouth, she bites her lip as she balls up her fist, she was used to the nepotism accusations, her grandfather being the Hokage and all but it hurt to hear it from him she didn’t even know why, they had only known each other for a couple of minutes. Her anger grew as she stared at him, deciding to confront him on his behaviour “why’re you being so rude? I’m just trying to make this w-“ “perhaps I should remind you of what 'this' is” he interrupts her sharply, dropping the paperwork as he stared her down “this, is nothing more than an arrangement, it is not a fairy tale. Sorry to inform you but there will be no warm discussions or love exchanged here” he finishes, nearly gritting his teeth.

She stares at him in shock before retorting, politeness be damned, she tried to make this work. “remember that reputation I told you about? It was about you being an asshole and boy were they right” she scowls as her hands grip the table slightly. A cold expression washes over itachi’s face before he closed his eyes, his obsidian eyes swirling into the sharingan as he re-opens them “I could care less what you think about me but….I would be more than glad to confirm that reputation right now” he states menacingly, standing from his chair. She gasps as she stands as well, scrambling back at the sight of his sharingan, perhaps she should’ve watched her mouth, she was no shinobi after all, she was a mere civilian.

Itachi walks toward her frightened form as she slowly backs away, her eyes wide with fear. She walks backward until her back hits the wall, she swallows as she stares at the angry uchiha in front of her, Itachi may be cold but he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her….right? A scuttling noise rings out from the hallway, causing her to glance in the direction of the noise, her heart rate picking up. Her old co-worker emerges from the shadow of the hallway, his form contorted as he speaks “you’re so used to always getting want you want” another co-worker emerges still disfigured “your job, your house, your marriage” “everything was handed to you on a silver platter so you should just know your place!” another disfigured co-worker appears yelling at her with a mangled voice, it was like they were repeating all her insecurities straight from her head.

She screams in terror as she glances at Itachi for help, Itachi stands in his previous spot unmoving as he continues to stare her down. The pieces of the puzzle comes together as it dawns upon her that she is caught in one of Itachi’s gentjutsu. Tears begin to fall down her cheeks, “I’m sorry Itachi, please stop this” she cries clutching her head as the taunting voices get louder “you should just disappear!” “go away! Run back to grandpa” the voices yell at her. She sobs as she slides unto floor, covering her ears as the voices become painfully louder “stop Itachi!” she yells over the voices through her tears. He finally snaps out of his hateful daze as he releases the gentjustsu, his eyes falling on her sobbing form slumped on the floor. She glares up at him through her tear-filled vision “you’re a jerk” and with that she races toward their shared bedroom, slamming the door.

Itachi sighs as he sits back on the couch, deactivating his sharingan. His rubs his face with his hands as he glances toward the direction of the bedroom door, hearing her muffled cries. He sighs, perhaps he took it too far, he only wanted to scare her into not trying to be friendly with him but ended up torturing her. Itachi sighs as he gets up and walks towards the bedroom, determined to apologize to her. He was angry, angry at the situation, angry at Hiruzen, angry at his clan but he didn’t need to lump her in. He was going to make things right.

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I wanted to make Itachi as canon as possible. I may make a part two but this time, there'll be lots of fluff and Itachi won't be as mean lol. If you liked please leave a comment or reblog!♡♡

Part 2 out neow

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine you can fix him. No, really, you can.

Warnings: drama, angst and (explicit) smut; long post; some canon divergence…

***

You’ve been raised at court as part of Princess Helaena’s retinue. Due to your noble status, this isn’t different any other lady of your station might’ve expected.

You have grown close to the princess, and the two of you are very good friends—more like sisters, truthfully. Due to your similar nature, both of you found yourselves reading, sewing and dancing when possible.

But as you grew, you eventually found another companion to spend your time at court with. The second wayward son of King Viserys, Lord Aemond.

Here’s how all it began…

***

• (I) Broken infancy.

Right after the mess where the Queen confronted her stepdaughter about what had happened between Rhaenyra’s offspring and Aemond, you opt to go after him.

It’s dark. It’s late and you should be elsewhere, but you pay little mind to these rules. You find Aemond outdoors, sitting in the stairs as if he’s contemplating quietly the price paid for losing an eye.

You think you hear a sniff, but you’re not sure. You wait until silence is absolute before making yourself announced.

“L-Lord Prince.”

Aemond turns abruptly, completely out of guard. He hates the vulnerability, but before he can come out with a snark response, you step forward and say:

“I do not mean to intrude. But… may I offer you company?”

The boy looks at you with distrust.

“What are your business here, Lady Y/LN? You should be with my sister.”

“I was worried about you…”

“I don’t need your pity”, and saying so he spits out.

“You don’t”, you agree calmly even if you’re shaken inside. “But everyone needs a friend.”

There is a small pause where you anxiously wait for him to give you some space. Eventually he does since there’s no one around.

“Well. Helaena doesn’t like many people, but here you are, the only one she actually spends time with”, mumbles Aemond.

You smile before taking a seat by his side.

“It appears so.”

Neither of you speak for a while. You know Aemond is still getting used to your company, so you speak nothing.

“I’m sorry”, you tell him.

The prince casts a look at this y/c haired lady of the house y/c dressed in the manner of the Hightower. Despite the remaining distrust in his eyes, you know he reads you.

What a process to forge a bond, and yet here you are.

“For what? You did nothing wrong.”

“No. But I lament for the loss you went through.”

“Well…”, and here he inclines his head towards the great shadow flying over the dark skies. “It was worth the dragon I reclaimed.”

“Like every Targaryen before you.”

Something about you said seems to knock his defenses down. However this isn’t something Aemond is prepared to admit. Yet.

***

• (II) Darkness & Light.

Aemond keeps an eye on you as much as you keep an eye on him. You’ve grown to a handsome woman, wearing gowns that reinforce your curves even though nothing in your actions deem other than innocence.

You and Helaena are almost twins. Could be so had you been birthed by Queen Alicent. Perhaps this is why Aegon looks down on you as much as he does to his sister-wife.

But the wayward, gloomy Prince, who at times opts to find his path towards his… whore, cannot divert away of you.

In fact, he is rather surprised to see you gravitating towards him just as he leaves the room.

“Y/N”, Aemond whispers your name, hands behind his back, not turning his head to welcome you… and because he hopes you don’t spot a slight, timid smirk that forms on his lips due to your presence.

“My dear Aem. Going to practice with Ser Criston again?”

You purposely link your arm to his, nudging his side playfully to tease him the way you know he doesn’t like.

But the prince can’t get rid of you, can he?

“Like always.”

“May I watch it?”

“If you want to.”

Aemond knows silence is not your best trait, something that he, in fact, appreciates.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been out of my sight again”, you muse, eyeing him closely.

He avoids your gaze, aware of what you talk about. But why does he feel a hint of shame knock his pride?

“Hum”, it’s all he says.

You sigh heavily. By how you breathe heavily, Aemond knows you are about to lose your temper.

“Don’t “hum” at me, Aemond Targaryen. You’ve been whoring again, haven’t you?”

To your surprise, he stops abruptly, turning at you in such a way that makes you blush. Aemond reads you, him too baffled when discovering you might actually have feelings for him.

How else would you feel so possessive towards me, Y/Nickname?

Today, your hair is tied in two perfectly braids. They are long enough to fall over your waist, Aemond notices. Your eyes are livid, he can tell the amount of repressed feelings that are behind the colour that paints them—and he is intrigued to know what these are.

You are chewing your bottom lip, a sign of nervousness—he never took you for an insecure person.

Are you afraid of losing me?

And then there’s something about the gown, green like always, that makes him want to rip it. He can tell your breasts are tied… and he wants to release the pressure this gown is making on them. Suddenly, comes to his mind a scene where he is sucking your nipples, rubbing one with his thumb all the whilst using his tongue to play with the other.

Perhaps you’d like that, Y/N. To be treated well. Perhaps you’d be a better replacement than my whore.

Indecent thoughts that he cannot sweep off his mind, but that his mind plays a good effort to it because you are a good precious damsel who doesn’t serve to be part of his dark, sinful self.

And yet… what he sees in you is the light that blinds him. Another sight he cannot lose. So he does what’s best of him to do: push people away.

“How does this concern you, Lady Y/N? You’ve been a good friend, but you are nothing more to me.”

Words that shouldn’t have come out this way. But they do. When seeing the hurt in your eyes, Aemond knows the weight of his lies. Suddenly, he realizes he wishes he could be saved.

And you, as his savior, have been pushed away.

“I am not quitting on you”, you wear your prideful mask, which intrigues him. “Still going to watch your practice though. Besides, I was only asking… because of your mother.”

Aemond cannot amend the awkwardness, but his mind screams at him for not bothering in doing so.

“I know.”

So he turns his back on you. And to his consternation, you stay.

*

Whilst Aemond practices with his sword, you shut yourself in your world. Your eyes are carefully down whenever a courtier passes by—you detest to get the male attention, not when you wish for more on Aemond’s part.

But you little foolish thing, he doesn’t want you. The prince sees you as a friend, is all. An extension of Helaena.

You struggle with your tears as this thought occurs you, but perhaps this isn’t so bad, is it? Duty often sacrifices sentiments. Perhaps you should tell your sister, Queen to be, that you are ready to marry and then… stay away of him for good.

But the courage in this decision soon dissipates the moment you raise your eyes and find Aemond staring at you.

And you know you’ve been trapped.

***

• (III) Scars.

You are about to slip under your blankets when the door of your bedchambers are abruptly opened. You are frightened when hearing the sound due to your exposed state: your line nightgown poorly covers your nipples and you still have no time to throw robes to cover yourself when he stands before you.

Distressed, anguished. In who he really is. In one broken state you’ve only seen once.

You forget yourself when you run to hold Aemond Targaryen in your arms.

“My love”, you whisper, letting him sob. “My prince”.

You pull him to yourself, the only one Aemond trusts with his being. The only one he knows he can be himself, with his scars and open vices. He clings onto you, he digs his fingers onto your waist, letting him be guided to your bed before burying his head against your belly.

You can only imagine what had struck him like this. A feast of demons over his head, each fighting for his flesh. And yet you are here, battling against them.

When he finally stops sobbing, he looks up at him. You’ve never seen him so fragile, so famine for affection. And here you are. Providing what he needs.

“Tell me all”, you whisper.

“I do not want to. You’ll find a monster in me”, and yet he holds onto your hips, fearful you’d let go of him.

“You are not a monster, Aemond. You may have some vices, but you are a human being like anyone else”, you tell him gently. “Come here.”

Aemond obeys you, sitting in front of you.

“Let me tend you”, you whisper. “I’ll prepare your bath.”

“Y/Nickname…”, he holds your wrist firmly.

“I won’t leave you. I won’t abandon you”, you assure him. “Do you trust in me?”

Aemond nods his head.

“My boy, then let me bath you. Besides”, and here you dress your best smile. “You smell like old dragon.”

Finally something that pulls out a smile of him. As he sits there, you are quick to fetch servants to prepare him a good bath. When you go back at him, Aemond gives you that intense look which gives you shivers.

And wets you in between your legs too.

But this isn’t the moment nor the time.

“Come. It’s ready.”

You lean against the wall of the privy quarters as Aemond starts to undress. Even though he is damaged for what he’s done, he likes to feel the weight of your gaze on him. And he smirks when he stands nude before you.

“I don’t think you’ve seen me like this”, he muses.

You don’t look away when he says so. Aemond feels a heat growing inside him.

“No, I don’t. Not physically anyway”, you point out.

“Don’t look away”, he asks.

You dare to scan his body with your discreet gaze, eyeing his well build muscles, attentive to his scars and… his manhood, which is now erected. And quickly you look away, blushing, as he chuckles.

“You’ve never seen one up before, my lady?”, he asks, sliding into the tub.

You gently knee behind him and get to rub his back with a sponge.

“Do not take me to your whore, Aemond”, you snap at him.

The prince smiles at it. He lets you clean him before he dives into the water. When coming back to the surface, the prince is disappointed for not seeing you there.

A moment later, though, when he’s dressed in clean clothes, says Aemond with a subtle accusation tone:

“You left me there for one moment…”

“You surely can handle yourself as you finished you bath. I am only your friend, wasn’t that what you called me?”

Aemond sighs.

“Y/Nickname, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He comes at you and rests his arms around your waist, his chin on your shoulder. When you side look at him, you spot that old fragility rarely seen.

It’s what melts you down.

“Very well. Come here. Let me tend you”, and now back to your bed, you and him lace your fingers together, his head in between your breasts. “What did you do, Aemond?”

You stroke his hair with your loose hand, aware that he’d done something bad. But where others see him ruthless, you see a broken boy trying to find his worth in this misadjusted world.

“I…”, his embargoed voice has your attention.

“Yes?���, you lift his chin, now cupping his face; removing his eyepatch, you gently force him to look at you.

And here comes a tear.

“I killed him. But I didn’t mean to.”

“Who?”

But you know the answer.

“…Lucerys.”

Old wounds that never close… bleed endlessly. You sigh heavily, but rest your forehead against his.

“You shouldn’t have done that, my dear”, you speak softly.

“I understand.”

“But I won’t abandon you, you know that, do you?”, you hope to transmit him that, regardless of this sinful secret he shared with you, together you two are stronger.

“You are the only one who knows my weakness”, he buries his head against your neck, needy of you, weak and feeble. Fragile. “Do not dare to leave me.”

“You have always been sacred to me to be profaned now, Aemond”, you whisper.

He leans his body close to yours, transfixed by your irradiating beauty… and your unending loyalty.

The prince touches your face and you tilt your head, letting his slander fingers brush over your face and then going down to your neck. You partly wish that he goes below… a perception he sees evident in your eyes.

Aemond knows he’s as vulnerable as you. And yet his hand moves to your collarbone, unlacing your nightgown.

“So beautiful. You look as if I can be redeemed.”

“You can”, you lean closer, not minding how purposely your breasts slip out of the line. Your eyes remain locked with his all the whilst you take his face with your hands. “You can be redeemed.”

Aemond waits no further: his dragon fire awakes and he is about to burn you. You welcome his hungry lips thus, sighing in content as he crawls over your body, ripping impatiently your gown, promptly reclaiming you the same way he did Vhagar.

You subdue easily to him, letting him have his way to you. That his lips make his kiss ache every part of you gets a moan out of you, which in turn makes Aemond smirk.

You are mine and mine alone. I possess you, I take you as who you are, my lady Y/N.

Such are his thoughts, which you need naught to have the ability to read them; for they are readable in his tight grip of you, in how his tongue dominates yours along with his body.

Trapped under his dominance, you are found breathless and a puddle of mess when he parts the kiss to let slid his tongue over your jawline and neck, his fingers now pulling your hair gently, tangled in your curls.

Then he stops what he’s doing to contemplate your state under candlelight. And here he smirks.

“Divine you are, my lady. How can a man like me be worthy of a woman like you?”

You sensually lift your legs to pull him by his hips as you adjust your body so his can mould better in it. You like the lust in his eyes, one of the kind that doesn’t conceal his vices nor his virtues… one that shows his genuine feelings to you.

“You deserve all the love in the world, my dear Aemond. Let me heal you”, you stroke his cheeks, smiling gently.

“A flower soon to be deflowered by a rogue”, he sneers under his breath, but there’s no despise in his eyes, only the same old scars.

“I am your woman”, you tell him, and he’s surprised to find in you the same possessiveness there is in him. “I am not any flower, though.”

Aemond smirks. Whatever insecurities laid behind his good eye, now they are no more.

“You shall be more than that, darling”, he brushes his lips against yours, biting your bottom lip not long after. “My consort, mother of my heirs.”

As if to assure you he means every word, he not only kisses your neck and gets a few moans out of you, but leaves some bruises there. You’ve been marked.

Aemond, however, cannot take out of his thought the idea of corrupting you. Though it flings him with some guilt, the way your legs are wrapped around him, your bodies so perfectly moulded that leaves no doubt that it is hardly sinful what’s to be done.

You may spot some of it, so to assure him there’s no question of the legitimacy of the deed, you put yourself under him properly so he looks down at you… and yet your hand takes hold of his erect manhood.

“Y/N!”, he gasps in surprise.

You give him a malicious smirk at the same time there is nothing to encounter in your gaze that is not innocence itself. Inexperience you may be, but you have ears that long heard of maids doing so with their partners.

But to feel his cock responding well to your moves is a positive indicator that you are doing it well.

“My lady!”, he wants to stop you, but fuck it it’s so damn good. Aemond rolls his eye, almost falling over you. “You should not…”

“I want you”, you whisper in the back of his ear as you caress his face and hair with your free hand. “Carnally, emotionally, all that is between. I want my prince Aemond Targaryen the way he really is.”

It’s enough to wipe out any reasonable thought he may have in regarding preserving you of such naughtiness. Aemond lets out the repressed lust for you, his sentiments towards his lady—of the kind only his whore knew about—, and bloody seven hells… you know how to make him feel good!

All the whilst you enjoy feeling his precum getting your hand soaked, and twirling your thumb around the tip like he instructs you to—the very fact he’s the one teaching you also arouses him quite.

“Fuck”, and he growls against your skin, burying himself into your breasts, biting your nipples and sucking each ardently with the devotion of a lover.

So you too welcome a different sensation of bliss, a pleasure never before felt, hitting on your in waves of heat that get your body out of control. It does “worsen”, though, the moment he does to you what you do to him.

Aemond captures the surprise that flashes behind your eyes when he finds you soaked to the core. And then… not deeming to waste his seed, he takes your hands and pins over your head.

As his thighs are over yours, you see this handsome man towering over you. His well build muscles, his handsome manhood…

“Do you like the view, Princess?” Aemond asks gently, though the way he looks at you there’s nothing innocent or gentle.

And he sees how your body reacts. Which only arouses him further.

“Yes”, you are almost breathless. “Please, do not make me beg.”

Aemond chuckles low, hands wrapping around your neck.

“Oh, but aren’t you begging already, my love?”

And then he releases the pressure by inserting another finger in your womanhood.

“Mm. You like that, do you not?”, Aemond groans as you deliberately give yourself to him, a complete mess. He likes the view, to know he ruined you too.

And then he bends over… only to slowly insert his manhood into you.

“Oh Gods!”

Aemond side smirks at you.

“It’s going to be a long night, Princess Y/N.”

And to seal his promise, he pursuits your lips in a passionate kiss.

***

• (IV) The Great Escape.

As you stand quietly in the royal chambers, you detect grey clouds rumbling in the sky. You furrow your eyebrows at the sight, perceiving it as a bad omen.

It’s when Helaena comes at you, so suddenly and silently that you are almost startled by her presence.

“I see the boy”, she whispers at you, the only one who understands her. “He will conquer all.”

“Do you mean any of your brothers?”, you ask in the same tone.

Helaena smiles quietly, though in her eyes you detect a mix of apprehension and concern. You know she hesitates, so you hope to transmit calmness.

“Laena, do not fear. I shall keep your secret with me”, and you point to your heart.

She looks at your hands before giving a look at the horizon. You give her time. Then she turns her head and says:

“He shall not be king until other dies”, another pause. “You should not be here when Aegon becomes king.”

You are more than aware that Aegon is not really fond of you.

“Is war coming, dear Laena?”, you ask.

“No”, and here she smiles. “Not for you nor Aemond.”

You have the decency to blush. You’d think your secret encounters with Aemond remained a secret, but didn’t you underestimate your closest friend?

“I…”

“Do not apologize. You’ve brought him the light out of him.”

And in her own way of saying thanks, Helaena rests her head against your shoulder. So suddenly the announce of storm is dissipated… and your fears, likewise.

*

But before this light prevails, it is yet the time to cross the dark. Therefore, you are not entirely surprised to find Aemond vulnerable again. It’s late night and he comes for you in seek of solace. The one kind he’s been refused by his family.

Aemond slides through the half open door, already suspicious in not finding your privy chambers completely close. Hearing voices, a fang of jealousy threatens to bring out his worse when he comes to find out you and Helaena have been spending time together.

It is a relief, somewhat one that makes him smirk, to seeing you getting along with his family. Not that he cares about it, but…

He waits until Helaena is gone to surprise you. You are wearing a pink gown with details in pink and are just untying your braid, completely unaware of his silent presence.

Aemond is reclining against the wall, watching you remove the courtly garments that you wear daily, noticing in your distracted face different expressions he is used to see in you.

“You look exhausted”, his voice comes out as a single whisper right as you are caught off guard and almost crying out as a result. “What’s wrong?”

“Aemond!”, you yell. “Are you out of your mind? Always like a rat, aren’t you?”

He chuckles at your reaction, moving to where you stand so he can have you all to himself. You melt instantly in his arms, but then quickly recompose when noticing that vulnerability only you spot on.

“Wait. What happened?”

“You didn’t answer my question”.

You know it’s pointless to argue with him so you shrug your shoulders and say:

“Just tired, is all.”

You don’t think wise to tell that lately you’ve been having strange morning sickness, so you motion to fetch yourselves some wine before getting at him.

“Now your turn.”

Aemond doesn’t buy your lie, though. But taking the wine offered, he opts to keep that in his mind for a moment later.

“I’ve met the Strong boys.”

“Oh.”

And here comes the thunder…

“What do you mean by “oh”? I’ve been teased out and about, Y/N”, says a very moody Aemond. “Jacaerys and Joffrey think they can have their way out?”

And here he comes to burst in tears. That broken boy hasn’t been healed nor taken care of. You put your glass aside and move to embrace him. Like a needy child, he comes for support which you give him without second thoughts.

“What happened then?”

“A fight was only prevented because of my mother. She welcomed Rhaenyra and her bastards here.”

You let him burst out his anger, silent and pained, as you hold him. In moments like this is when he undress the rogue mask he often wore to public; -and it’s here his fragility is seen, which leads to a more intimate moment.

“You don’t feel at peace here.”

“No”, Aemond admits. “Not here not anywhere. But I aim to reclaim Harrenhal.”

A stranger shiver crosses your spine and even the prince feels it. He looks up at you, quizzically so.

“What was that?”

“Oh, the shiver? You felt it too?”, you try to make a joke about it. “So tight you felt it as if it were you, uh?”

But Aemond is serious.

“I am not joking, Y/N.”

“I had a bad feeling about this. You know the stories of Harrenhal.”

Now the silver haired man chuckles.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dragons could be a myth, and were treated as such before the Conquest by the Westerosi. And yet here they are”, you tell him firmly. “Stories contain a degree of truth. I did my homework.”

“I can tell.” And softening, he rises to cup your face and kiss your nose and lips. “I did not wish to distress you. But I cannot stay here any longer,Y/N.”

“Well…”, and you smile as you rest your forehead against his. “Let us runaway, Aemond. Together.”

“To where?”, Aemond isn’t sure about the idea, but this possibility does bring some relief to him.

“The Free Cities”, you decide. “You aren’t the first Targaryen who flees King’s Landing to locate somewhere there. Essos is one of those who traditionally welcomes these Valyrian kind.”

Aemond chuckles, pleasantly surprised by your wit.

“We need little convincing, don’t we?”

“It is what you need most, my beloved. Some peace of mind and spirit will do you well.”

So the plan is architected. And the promised consolation shall come.

*

Yet, night arises and with it, demons that come to dispute over royal flesh. Aemond is tormented by his nightmares. As he watches you sleep peacefully, he envies your serenity.

Part of him riots against the idea of being with you. Running away sounds coward-ish and the ilidic paradise is an idea fit for poets and story tellers.

Reclining against the wind, naked, he is vulnerable and to feel it only makes him feel irc about it.

It’s when you notice the bed getting colder. As you turn around, you see you are alone once again. You almost panic at the idea of him leaving you, but this is wiped out of your mind when seeing the state he is.

“Aemond”, you don’t mind the clothes. “Come to bed”, you rest your chin over his shoulder. Suddenly you notice how tall he is.

He tries to avoid your gaze, but it is difficult to ignore you when you recline your body, so warmt, against his. In a stark contrast of fire and cold, he is like an ice berg to you.

“Please”, you ask him.

Aemond turns at you at last and acquiesces with your request. Silently he follows you, but he doesn’t sleep straight away.

“You are worthy of love”, you tell him, cuddling him. “You cannot ignore the wounds that hurt you.”

“I fear I am incapable of healing”, Aemond whispers, a tear rolling down his cheek. “How can you conceive the idea of us together, Y/N?”

“You can be saved.”

He snorts, eyes closing as he slowly drifts to sleep under your tenderness.

“Maybe I do not want to be saved.”

“To be saved or to be redeemed. Is there any difference? Sleep my life. The night may be long and full of terrors, but light always comes to win over it.”

You’d think Aemond had fallen asleep as you take the blankets and cover yourselves, but as you too lie down, your hear him say:

“I love you, Y/N.”

You smile warmly because this is the first time he admits it out loud. Wiping away your happy tears, you lean to kiss his forehead.

“I love you too, Aemond Targaryen.”

*

Indeed, funny as it is, you are now officially part of the House Targaryen. Daeron and Helaena had been the only witnesses of the ceremony that made you officially Lord Aemond’s wife.

“Welcome to our family”, greets Daeron. “Just hope one does not notice the mess we are.”

“Oh, nothing too different of my own family, my lord.”

“Lord?”, Daeron scoffs. “We are family now, sister. There is little need to use formalities.”

Aemond smiles quietly when spotting a blush turning your cheeks into crimson. And speaking of informalities, Helaena welcomes you in her own way. To a general surprise, she in fact hugs you close before saying:

“Never forget. A king will come soon. To conquer all. The line must carry on.”

And then she takes Daeron away, leaving you baffled.

“What did she say?”, asks Aemond, curious.

“I’m afraid this time I didn’t understand what she meant, husband.”

“Well”, he shrugs his shoulders. “Not many of us do. Ready, my lady?”

You smile warmly and the sight makes Aemond content. Sun is rising in the horizon when he helps you mount old Vhagar.

And when she is ready to fly, you cling tight in your husband like a monkey.

“Oh my Gods!”

He laughs away. Never before he laughed so unpreocuppied, so carelessly, so free.

You know it. You feel it too. For when you look at him, you could tell how successfully you fixed him. Didn’t you?

***

• (V) Essos.

You may think you are brave for riding Vhagar, but braver so for mounting your husband. Now that you have enough trust to do so, you come to find out that is a lot better than in your wildest dreams.

“Oh Gods!”, and like any other day you are louder,a sound the servants are already used by now. “Aemond!”

It’s been three months since you and Aemond settled in Essos, and ever since the city not only welcomed you two properly like the royalty both of you are, but is also becoming the stage to Aemond’s ambitions—to which you turned a blind side to.

“So good, my wife!”, Aemond groans, pleased like always to see your boobs bouncing and how synced his body and yours are in one single move.

But domineering he is, so in a matter of seconds you are under his power again, a “victim” of his intense thrusts. And as he seeds you, it’s only then he comes to notice the changes of your body. Your breasts are bigger, you are curvier and your appetites… are different too.

As he collapses against your side, Aemond holds you close to him, though. Stroking your hair and helping to straighten it after messing you good, he smiles.

“I cannot believe myself when I recall the enormous quantity of years that took for us to get married.”

“You are slower than I’d assumed to be, husband”, you tease him, earning a few tickles.

“Life here isn’t as bad as it seems, though”, Aemond contemplates after kissing your forehead. “I think we can rebuild our life here in the manner of Westeros.”

You know there are certain ambitions that do not die, no matter the efforts in healing scars. It’s a side of his character that you’ve always accepted. Then you are reminded of Helaena’s prophecy and somehow you made your peace with it.

“Indeed, I…”

Oh no. Not that nauseous morning again! In a matter of seconds you are running to your privy quarters and throw all that you’ve ingested earlier the day… out.

When Aemond rushes after you, though, he doesn’t take too long to realize that an heir is coming. At last.

“My dearest wife”, he kneels after you. “Let me help you. The way you help me.”

For the first time in years he sees your vulnerability, your fragility. You try to conceal it, but he doesn’t allow you to shy away.

“Y/N… Do not be stubborn”, he helps you clean. “There is nothing wrong with it. Do you not realize what does this mean?”

When you give him a quizzical look, the prince chuckles.

“I cannot believe that I am the one to tell you… but you are carrying our child, my love.”

News that would come to change your lives…. But others too.

***

• Epilogue.

Three years later.

You are giving birth again—the price you pay for delighting yourself by engaging in marital affairs with your handsome prince—when news come from King’s Landing.

Aemond is holding baby Rhaella in his arms all the whilst watching his son, Aegon, practice sword ship. He’s very prideful over his eldest son taking so much after him where brain matters are concerned—and abilities too—, but the sweet temper is something the boy takes after you.

“See, Rhae? Your brother is going to protect you just fine”, Aemond smiles before kissing his daughter’s head.

She giggles, a sight he adores to behold, but every smile dies when a messenger dressed in green comes in.

“My lord Prince”, this young lad greets Aemond, sounding somewhat nervous.

“Who is this? Sent by mother, I presume.”

The lad delivers him an old parchment. When opening it carefully, the prince frowns.

“What does this mean?”

“There is war in Westeros, Ser. And King Aegon has summoned you.”

[alastxrs]

Greetings, it's the person who asked who you would write to again!! Now that I have your confirmation, could I request a male reader when they are childhood friends with Dottore or Capitano (you can pick one of these two since I’m pretty indecisive lol) where reader is a sunshine sweetheart and the other is grumpy, quiet type, as they found reader annoying at first but still stick around since reader is their only friend, later they became boyfriends!! But then, reader gets into an accident that traumatizes them so the positive aura is no longer as their grumpy partner finally gets to see them again after many years apart and tries their best to get reader healed from their wounds again :]

I tried to be as descriptive as possible, and I hope you have a fantastic day!!

𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞.

El Capitano hasn't seen great sunshine in someone for so long.

The only person he saw as the Sun was Y/N, his lover and childhood best friend who had stayed by his side for so long.

"Why are you still following me?!" Capitano frowned while looking at the smaller boy who just smiled at him.

The boy shrugged, "You seem lonely, I want to be friends with you!" he responded before he held his hand out. "My name is Y/N and I'm gonna be the one to stay by your side."

This kid was annoying but he would just suffer through it. Besides, having someone around was nice.

Capitano and Y/N were inseparable as children after that, their bond forged through endless adventures and mischief. From the moment they met, they knew they were kindred spirits, destined to be the best of friends which had slowly turned into lovers.

As youngsters, they spent their days exploring the winding streets and hidden alleyways of their hometown, their imaginations running wild as they embarked on countless adventures. Whether they were pretending to be pirates searching for buried treasure or daring knights rescuing damsels in distress, Capitano and Y/N were always at the center of the action.

Their friendship was built on a foundation of trust and loyalty, each one willing to go to great lengths to protect the other. They stood by each other through thick and thin, facing whatever challenges came their way with courage and determination.

But it wasn't just their adventures that brought them together; it was also their shared love of laughter and fun. Y/n was known for his infectious grin and mischievous twinkle in his eye, while Capitano had a knack for finding humor in even the most mundane situations.

Together, they were unstoppable, their laughter ringing out like music wherever they went.

The only person who can ever make him laugh.

As they grew older, their bond only grew stronger, transcending time and distance. No matter where life took them, they would always be the best of friends, forever united by the memories of their childhood adventures and the unbreakable bond they shared.

Y/N was his sunshine.

Capitano and Y/N stood under the shade of their favorite tree, the branches swaying gently in the warm breeze as they looked out over the rolling hills beyond. They had been friends for as long as they could remember and lovers for a year now, their bond stronger than anything they had ever known.

As they watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky, Y/N turned to Capitano with a soft smile. "Do you remember when we first met?" the (h/c) haired male asked, his voice filled with nostalgia.

Capitano chuckled, a fond look in his eyes. "How could I forget? You were the one who dared me to climb to the top of that tree," he replied, gesturing to the towering oak behind them. "And when I fell, you were the one who bandaged up my scraped knee."

Y/N smiled at the memory, reaching out to gently squeeze Capitano's hand. "We've been through so much together," he said, his voice tinged with emotion. "And no matter what happens, I want us to always stay together."

Capitano nodded, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I promise," he said, his voice soft but firm. "No matter where life takes us, we'll always find our way back to each other. We're a team, you and me, forever and always."

With that, they sealed their promise with a solemn handshake and a kiss, their hearts filled with the certainty that their relationship would withstand the test of time. And as they stood side by side, watching the sun dip below the horizon, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, as they had always done.

Yet, of course, the times changed.

The sunshine in someone can get destroyed when life decides that those with sun in them need to get destroyed.

Capitano wished he had been there to save his lover; the only person who supported him for becoming a fatui.

Except he couldn't even save him.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He rushed over to his fallen lover and he quickly took his mask off before he kneeled in front of his partner. Who had beaten his lover? There was not anyone around who would dare touch him knowing who the fatui member was.

His (E/C) colored eyes opened to stare at the bigger male, his lover usually smiled whenever he came home.

Now only stood a painful sad look on the smaller male's face.

Y/N leaned into his lover as he sighed, "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough...I promise I'll get stronger." he spoke softly.

That had been the last time he saw his partner and of course the grumpy man missed his sunshine lover with all of his heart, he just needed to give space and he knew Y/N would come back to him.

The (h/c) haired man would come back stronger.

He did leave his smaller lover with a few things while he would be gone and he would stay in the frozen wasteland.

Capitano closed his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee slowly starting to doze off. He could only let his guard down when he felt safe or was with his partner, those days were rare.

It was boring without his sunshine.

They wrote to each other everyday but it wasn't the same as when they were together, he hoped the other person came back soon.

And just as he started thinking about Y/N, hands were on his shoulders gently rubbing them.

Of course, he thought it was his imagination because some days he dreamed of his partner next to him but the other usually never spoke.

"Missed me that badly enough that you still think I'm not here?"

That made his eyes widen and he quickly turned around to see the smaller male who smiled a bit at him. His heart was racing as he reached and gently caressed the other's cheek.

Y/N leaned into the giant hand as he moved one hand on top of his. "Yes, I'm actually here." he hummed as he looked at him. "I won't leave you that long again I promise."

Capitano still couldn't find his voice as he was lost in thought for a second.

Yet, of course, his lover was patient with him.

Finally, he leaned forward to kiss the other man on the lips and pulled the shorter man closer to him to keep him close. Y/N kissed back and wrapped his around the bigger man's neck as they pressed against each other.

It lead to them going to the bedroom and for them to throw clothes off of them.

Years without intimacy was fine for the two yet they just craved feeling each other's skin against each others.

They didn't care about having sex and that was not something they were going to jump straight into. They just wanted to feel the scars that were placed on each other's body, show each other bodies gentle touching and care.

Nobody was to disturb them.

They wanted time alone and that was fine.

Capitano would take care of Y/N for as long as possible.

For he had his Sunshine back.

[novemberheart]

Thank you for the support on the last post! Here’s Chapter two!

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 2 -> Chapter 3

{overview} It’s move in day!

{Warnings} Female reader, poly relationship (the gay kind), light pricexghost and Gaz/Soap banter, Ghost already being a bit of a softie

The aggressive grind of the bandsaw covered the sound of approaching footsteps. Yet the tingle behind Simon’s neck was all he needed to know someone was there. He removed his foot from the pedal, shutting the machine off. He slid his safety glasses up to his head as the work shed door clanked open. He needed to grease the hinges.

“How’d it go?” He asked, leaning his back against the worktop. John shrugged, a pleased expression on his face.

“Good.” Price responded, leaning back across from him. “She seems like a good girl. It’ll only be for about a month anyway. And you know how it is, one- if not all of us will get shipped off sometime.” He sighed rubbing a hand over his face. Simon clicked his tongue in agreement.

“The boys like her?”

“I hear wedding bells.” John teased, causing both men to chuckle. “They like her.” He affirmed. “Would’ve been nice if you’d join us.” He continued slowly. John extended his leg so it pressed against Simon’s. A small action to show he meant to harm. Simon pressed further into Price, clearing his throat softly.

“Wouldn’t have mattered. Johnny already seemed hell bent on helpin’ her out, and you know if Johnnys thinkin’ it, Kyle is too.” Simon suddenly stood straight up, bending forward so his palms rested right next to John. “And you can never say ‘no�� to them.” He murmured, his cheek brushing against John’s.

Price let out a strangled gasp-laugh of sorts, his hand flattening against Simon’s chest pushing him away. “I can’t say ‘no’ to them?” He accused. “Tell me, what have you been up to in here?”

“Making another planter box for Kyle.” Simon responded quickly, a playful spark lighting up his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I thought there was four of them?” You questioned absentmindedly, adjusting yourself so you sat on your knees. Today was move in day and Kate was helping you pack what little belongings you had. She paused, all her attention on the task at hand- folding one of your t-shirts. She has always been a perfectionist.

“Yeah there is. You haven't met Simon yet. He’s a good guy, just a bit”- she trailed off, refolding another one of your items.

“Shy?” You leant.

“Sure we’ll go with that.” She sighed.

“I thought he was the mean one.” Kate’s wife, Robin interjected from over the phone. Your eyes widened and you turned over your shoulder to look at Kate.

“No I didn’t mean that- I hadn’t even met him when I heard that. He’s not mean, I just didn’t have a word for it at the time.”

“Do you have a word for it now?” You pressed. Robin giggled from over the phone. Kate opened and closed her mouth a few times.

“No- but he’s not as mysterious and complex as he likes to think.” Kate confessed. “My advice would just be to steer clear of him, you’ll only be there for a month anyways.”

“You’re making him sound scary.” Robin whispered harshly. You nodded your head in agreement.

“He won’t do anything to you.” Kate said firmly. There were times when you forgot what Kate did for a living. You forgot the emotional and physical turmoil she goes through on a day to day basis. She was protecting Simon. Her tone shooing off any idea that he was a bad man. You wondered what it would be like to have that type of bond with someone. A bond that is forged out of otherworldly trauma. Yet, you should be grateful you don’t have a tie like that. ‘Well there’s always tomorrow’ you thought to yourself. You shook that idea away. “We should get going. Love you, Honey.” Kate held the phone up to her chin, making a kiss noise into the speaker. Robin blew a raspberry.

“Bye Aunt Ro!” You shouted.

“Bye, lovie! And good luck!”

All in all you had three boxes. You never bothered to put any money into your place, knowing the likely consequences. When you and Kate pulled up to the house, John and Jonny were waiting for you.

“That’s it?” John asked, already opening the car door.

“Yeah. You don’t have to do that. That one’s heavy”- You stopped yourself as he picked up the box with one arm supporting it.

“Nonesense bon. Can’t have the neighbors thinking we aren’t gentlemen.” Johnny grinned also lifting a box like it was full of helium.

“Thank you.” You spoke sincerely. They nodded practically jogging back to the house.

“Don’t bother with things like that. They are pains in the butt- all of them, but they do get a weird satisfaction out of lifting heavy things. And opening jars.” Kate snickered. “Help me with this one?” You and Kate made it to the porch by the time Johnny came bounding back.

“The neighbors!” He scolded. “Let me help you with that box!” He yelled, taking a quick look around like the neighbors would be judging him from their windows. You and Kate both laughed and his face beamed. “You’ve got a pretty smile, bon.” Johnny blurted.

“You too.” It came out before you could stop it. It was the truth- one that you wished you hadn’t admitted. The last thing you needed was a flirting match on your first day. He said nothing, but Kate rolled her eyes at the noticeable pep in his step.

“Here’s this.” She handed you a key card to get into the housing area. “I transferred it to your name, but it’s old and the only one I could find so it might take a few times before it opens the gate. You’ll have access to the pool, gym and the clubhouse area. John said you can borrow one of their keys for the time being.” She gave you a soft smile, before wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulders.

It suddenly dawned on you this was goodbye. She was heading back home and you were going to be here, by yourself. You winced and held her just as tight. “Be a good girl.” She whispered. You nodded your head, thanking her heavily.

“Bye boys!” She yelled through the doorway.

“You’re not staying.” Kyle spoke peering his head from around the corner. It was like the same realization dawned on them. No more Laswell= no more buffer. She shook her head, heading down the porch. You watched her as she hopped into the drivers seat. Her movements were eager. You couldn’t blame her. She missed Robin desperately.

“Everything okay?” You jumped at Kyle’s voice, but quickly threw on a smile. You couldn’t not seem grateful.

“Yeah, just going to be weird not seeing her all the time.” You took a few cautious steps into the house. Even though it would be “yours” for the next month it still felt wrong entering without a direct invitation. Kyle nodded his head in understanding.

“Ready for the rest of the tour?” He smiled, wiggling a brow at you.

Next to the dining room was a bathroom. Next to the bathroom, close to the entryway was a downstairs office, which you were politely asked not to enter. You are more than willing to comply. Past the bathroom and dinning room was the mudroom and back door. These men were active and there was evidence of almost every hobby you could think of. The backyard was breathtaking. Plush outdoor seating (handmade from wood thank you Simon), a fire pit, barbecue, another wood table with chairs for outdoor dinning and last but not least a picture perfect garden. You just wanted to sprawl out in the grass and soak up the sun. You’re sure they would let you. In the far right hand corner there was a medium sized shed, painted black. “That’s Simon’s workshop.” Kyle had explained.

Up the stairs was another “office” type room. But this one was for play- not work. An air hockey table, a projector, the largest bean bags you’ve ever seen in your life, a wall with video games, movies and boardgames.

“Can this be my room?” You pleaded.

“You can come in there whenever you want.” Kyle promised. “Me and Johnny would enjoy the company.” Your stomach fluttered at smoothness of his voice. You wished you could record it for nights you had trouble sleeping. Next to the game room was another bathroom- this time a full one with a nicely sized tub and shower combo. “This’ll be your bathroom.”

It was as carefully decorated as the rest of the house. “You’ll share it with me and Johnny. Don’t worry he’s house trained.”

“Over here is your room.” Kyle presented. “It’s the plainest room in the house, but we rarely have people over.”

It was plain, but there was still a warmth to it. The thing that caught your eyes first was the large window overlooking into your surrounding neighbors backyard. Good thing you love to people watch. Your bed was in the center of the room with a plush white comforter and equally sinkable pillows. The closet was across from the bed with a sliding door. Your boxes were placed neatly in front of the window. “Oh and.” Kyle began. He took a few steps into your room, signaling for you to follow. He shut the door, leaving the two of you alone in your new bedroom.

“Simon installed this. We told him about the break ins- hope that was okay and he took it upon himself to install this bad boy, so you’d feel more comfortable.”

It was a swing lock, one that could only be opened from the inside. A soft gasp left your throat. “That’s so kind.” You whispered.

“Don’t make too big of a deal out of it.” It was a light warning. “He gets flustered easily.” You giggled, trying to suppress the tears building up in your eyes. You wanted to meet Simon now more than ever. Laswell was right- he wasn’t mean in the slightest. Next to your bedroom was another bedroom and across from it was the master bedroom.

“There’s only three rooms?” You hummed. “I’m not stealing someone room am I?” You doubted it with how unused your room look. Kyle shifted on his feet, his hand scratching the back of his neck. Laswell must’ve not given you ‘the talk’.

“Me and Johnny share that room.” Kyle said slowly. “Cap’ and Simon share that one.” He pointed towards the master bedroom.

“Oh!” You chirped. He could tell by your face you still didn’t catch on to what he was hinting at. In your mind they were all so close anyways, why wouldn’t they share a room? He sighed, but felt like it might be better for you to catch on naturally than for him to make it sound like a big deal. I mean it wasn’t like they were going to have an orgy in front of you.

“You hungry? It’s a nice day out. Cap’ usually throws something on the Barbecue.” Kyle offered already turning towards the stairs.

“That would be alright?” You questioned slowly. Kyle’s face softened.

“Course. Besides Johnny needs a new tennis partner.”

“What happened to the old one?”

“He’s a big ol’ cheater. No one wants to play him anymore.”

As promised John was just setting up his area and Johnny was bouncing a tennis ball against the side of the house.

“You play, bon?” It was a simple question, but it felt as if he was persuading you.

“I heard you cheat.” You felt as though you could be playful with him. His eyes scrunched in challenge.

“That’s what he’s been feedin’ you, hmm? Well bon, I have never cheated a day in my life. They just can’t wrap their heads around losing every time. It’s a coping mechanism.” He smirked. John shot a glare over his shoulder and Kyle shook his head quickly.

“Liar and a cheat.” Kyle yelped dodging a neon ball.

“I’ll go easy.” Johnny had turned his attention back to you.

Your hands twisted in your shirt. “Alright.” You sighed.

He did go easy on you. A part of you wondered if he was bored, the ball bouncing back and forth between the two of you at a snails pace. Yet every time you caught his gaze his face would express there was no where else he’d rather be. Well, you’re sure that wasn’t true. He was a people person. He made whoever he was interacting with feel like they were the only person in the world. Kyle had a similar effect. Though his was less assertive. With Johnny you would get attention, but with Kyle held back just enough to where you wanted it. Even now as your eyes carefully watched the ball they couldn’t help but drift over to him, sitting in the lawn chair keeping score.

You missed the ball.

“That was a record.” Kyle boasted, clapping his hands together. “15 passes in a row.”

“What’s the score though?” Johnny insisted.

“I don’t know, mate. 29 love.” Kyle shrugged. Johnny rolled his eyes.

“You won Johnny. Don’t worry.” You soothed.

“Didn’t make it easy, bon.”

He was competitive. You wondered how many fights had to be broken up in the game room.

“Foods just about ready, Johnny go get Simon.” You perked up in your chair.

“Yes sir, yes sir.” Johnny mocked stomped off, back into the house.

“You take cheese on your burger?” John asked. Your stomach had been growling for the past fifteen minutes. You quickly nodded. “We usually have chips but someone ate them as a midnight snack.” John chided placing a large plate of burgers in the center table.

“Simon too.” Kyle muttered, getting up heading back inside the house.

“How do you like your room, honey?” John asked, closing the grill top.

“I love it. It’s like a hotel.” You beamed. John’s lips quirked up into a smile.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Thank you again. You’re doing more than just giving me a place to stay.” You didn’t go into depth, but you could tell by the way his eyes softened that he knew what you meant.

The door slid open. Kyle came out with his arms full of condiments and two bags of potato chips or “crisps” as John called them. Johnny bounded out not soon after with a jug of soda and five cups balancing in his hand.

“Drink soda, Bon?”

“Umm not usually this late. I’m a wimp when it comes to caffeine.” You admitted.

“So what do you drink?” Johnny continued.

“Uh water.” You smiled sheepishly.

“That’s a new concept to him.” Kyle chuckled.

“I’ll go get it.” You took a glass and stood up. “Do you have any filtered? If not tap is fine.”

“There’s a pitcher in the fridge.” John answered. You slid the door open once more heading past the mudroom and slightly down the hall to turn into the kitchen.

You nearly dropped your glass at the large figure leaning against the kitchen island. He wasn’t much bigger than the others, but he looked more out of place.

“Hello.” You greeted. “Simon?” You asked slowly. He was handsome. You wished this group would make a calendar. They’d be sold out in no time. He looked about the same age as John. He had a beard trimmed close to his face, leaving enough of his strong jaw on display. His nose was a bit crooked and bumpy- must come with the job. His hair was honey ginger and cropped. But the thing that caught your attention first, and held it, were his eyes. A deep chestnut color, with absolutely no emotion it made you shudder.

Your name left his lips in a gravel breath.

“Yes.” You responded in an instant. “Just came in to get some water.” You stammered. He fixed his posture so he wasn’t blocking the way to the fridge. You grabbed the pitcher, almost overflowing your cup from the speed of the water. “Thank you for my lock.” You blurted. You peaked at him from over your shoulder. Turning your body to face his felt like too much of a commitment.

“Welcome.” He replied bluntly. “Sorry that happened to you.” He added. He cleared his throat, not turning back as he headed to the backyard.

So far, so good.

Hope you liked this next chapter. I personally believe that Ghost would not wear his mask in his home- or anywhere other than on the field or when he is physically on base. A man walking around town with a skull mask is much more likely to drawn attention- which is the last thing he wants. I also believe that Simon is a ginger 🙊🧡 based off of his two seconds without his mask on. Anywayysss This description isn’t set in stone and you are always welcome to think your own thoughts 🥰

See you next time!

[takaraphoenix]

Mutual Devotion (Sneak Peek)

“You know,” Lydia said casually. “I appreciate that you got over your crush on me, Stiles. This would have been… so much harder if you kept making heart-eyes at me. Jackson’s been the jealous type even before he became a werewolf, but now he is…”

“Territorial,” Stiles offered with a chuckle. “Yeah, I feel like him turning into a werewolf did a lot in the me getting over you. I know my crush couldn’t compare to a mate-bond.”

Derek was glad that none of the wolves were in the room to hear the surprised jump of his heart. How did Stiles know about mate-bonds? He lifted his gaze carefully off the selection, watching Stiles, even as Stiles kept his focus on Lydia. Derek also noted that Stiles wasn’t lying, he was over his feelings for Lydia. Derek tried not to think about the way that made him feel.

“Mates?” Lydia echoed, raising her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Stiles groaned and tilted his head back, before staring dead ahead at Derek. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t had the bees and birds talk with the puppies!”

Knowing the answer and not even waiting for Derek to say anything, Stiles simply barreled on. “Mates, you know, like… like soulmates. But… not in the cheesy trope-y way of names written on your skin or whatever. Just… a perfect match, I guess? I think that wolves actually feel it though. Scott and Allison are mates. That’s how I got onto that track to begin with, like, there was just no other way to explain them, and everything they did for each other. You can only excuse so much with rampant teen hormones. And yeah, Allison is Scott’s anchor, which I guess is like another word for mates when it refers to a person instead of a thing or emotion. She grounds him, his love for her allows him to focus on his wolf. The same way that you allowed Jackson to regain control, back then. Because you’re his anchor. You’re his mate.”

For the first time since Derek knew her, Lydia actually looked surprised and like she had encountered something that she had not expected. Derek’s attention shifted to Stiles though.

“It’s not another word for mate,” Derek whispered. “Anchor. Your anchor doesn’t have to be your mate, you don’t need a mate to have an anchor. Parents, siblings, friends, they can be anchors too.”

“Oh,” Stiles blinked, like he hadn’t expected for Derek to give any input at all, before he cracked a big smile. “But the rest is right? Did I do the right research?”

Slowly, Derek nodded. “Perfect match is… right, in a sense. We don’t… know the moment we meet someone that they’re ‘the one’, if that’s what you mean. A perfect match is something forged. You can have multiple mates throughout our life, my aunt, she lost her first mate years before the fire, but she fell in love again and forged a new mate-bond.”

“Okay,” Stiles furrowed his brows curiously. “Then what makes a perfect match?”

“Mutual devotion,” Derek could hear the words spoken by his mom, when she had explained this to him as a young boy. “A mate isn’t just someone perfect for you, it’s about… what you are willing to do for each other, support each other, help each other, make each other better. This mutual devotion to one another is what forges a mate-bond.”

“Mh,” Lydia blinked, repeatedly. “I suppose… that does apply to us. We are devoted to each other. Even through the worst of it, even when he was awful to me, even when I was awful to him.”

“You are,” Derek offered in a soft voice. “Mates, I mean. Wolves can smell it on each other and on claimed mates. And Stiles is also right about Scott and Allison. Which… is why I cut him as much slack as I did. I knew why he was so obsessed with the youngest member of the Argent family.”

Stiles hummed in understanding, looking at Derek. Mates. Derek swallowed hard as puzzle pieces started to fall into place in a way he had so far tried to ignore. But having this conversation, and looking at Stiles during it, it became impossible to deny. Over the past year, they had helped each other, saved each other’s lives, fought side by side. And now, for the past month, Stiles had helped Derek truly build his pack, strengthen his pack. Bringing Erica and Boyd back to him, forcing Derek to confront Jackson, whom he had avoided out of guilt because if Derek hadn’t bitten him to begin with, Jackson would have never turned into the kanima and had to go through all that trauma, he had genuinely thought that Jackson wouldn’t want to be a part of this pack. But it seemed that Jackson had needed as much of a push as Derek. And that was one thing Stiles excelled in; pushing. With Jackson came Lydia, of course. Mates. And now, suddenly, Derek’s small pack of three betas who kept snarling at him had turned into a much happier pack of five betas and one Stiles.

Which, perhaps, was another reason why Derek had kept putting this realization off. Stiles was undeniably pack, he had been here every single day to rebuild the pack house, to bond with Derek and the betas, yet Derek could never bring himself to think of Stiles as a beta. At first, he pretended that this was because Stiles wasn’t a wolf, was a human. But he didn’t have the same qualms with Lydia, he considered Jackson’s mate one of his betas. It was the way Stiles went about things that made him different from everyone else. Providing food and moral support for the betas, keeping them together, mediating between them, and between them and their Alpha, taking charge, at Derek’s side by making Derek find a place to live, start renovating the house, change his training methods with the betas. That wasn’t the kind of behavior a beta would be allowed to get away with. That was the behavior of an Alpha mate, the co-leader of the pack, the heart of the pack.

Stiles Stilinski was the Alpha mate of the Hale Pack. And Derek had no idea what to do with that.

--

(This is an excerpt. There is currently 7k more of this story and I have yet to reach the end. Stay tuned for June 22nd, which is the estimated posting date for this fic, like, I should be done with it by then!)