#my sister and nieces say it's cool

[dont-read-this-im-dead]

Guys, I did a thing. I got a canvas, right? And it looks like a rainbow.

EXCEPT. When you zoom in!

You have baby CRANES!

My sister's BF is an artist, so I thought he might appreciate an artistic Christmas gift, but this is literally the first draft. Part of me thinks it's cool, but also, I think it's stupid, and that I need to never do art stuff again.

Your thoughts?

[flowersforjude]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader 

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | When Cregan Stark begins his search for a wife, some hidden feelings come to light.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6,484(Idk what came over me okay!?)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Mature Content-Explicit Descriptions Of Sex | Friends to lovers, Longing and pining, Love confessions, Possessive!Cregan, Smut: Piv, Oral(fem receiving), Clit biting, Hair pulling, Multiple orgasms, Biting/bruising(VERY MILD), Wife/marriage kink, Size difference. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I did not anticipate Cregan Stark pulling me out of my writing slump. But everyone say thank you Cregan! For those of you waiting for it, Hea Mēre is still coming. I just wanted to post something since I haven’t put any new works out here lately. Hea Mēre is coming SOON, though, I promise.

masterlist

Word had spread that the Warden of the North was in need of a wife. And so the great hall of Winterfell was now a symphony of merry music and proud spoken promises. Nearly every great house in the north flocked to Winterfell’s gates one after the other. Some lords arrived with nearly their whole households in tow. Some only brought their daughters. 

Cregan, ever the loyal man, had welcomed them to his home as any good liege lord would. Demanding a feast be thrown in the honor of northern unity. 

The revels had been at their height for hours now, and you took in as much as you could handle. As the night wore on, though, you found a need for respite. The boisterous laughter and clambering of drunk men was a muffled sound to your ears now. Out here in the chilly corridors, only the howling wind could truly be heard. 

It had been close to a year since Cregan took the seat of his late father. Since then, the north has rallied behind him. Came to pledge their words of fealty and wish their lord prosperity. And now they came again to offer him their daughters, sisters, and nieces. You knew he would take a wife at some point—some point very soon. And because he was a northman through and through, he would marry a northern woman. One from a great house with a long history and ample influence. 

For some reason, all your preparation for this moment had done nothing to aid you when it actually came.

The wind swirled around you like a restless spirit, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself to stave off the chill. You could just go back inside, but all the warmth in the world could not tempt you. Witnessing all the eligible ladies of the north look upon Cregan with hungry and hopeful eyes was an unnecessary cruelty you didn’t wish on yourself. It wasn’t as though you could fault them for it. He was Lord of Winterfell, and as such, he was obligated to take a wife. What woman wouldn’t want that to be them? 

You yourself had yearned for it for as long as you could recall. Practically growing up alongside him, youthful companionship had reformed as enrapturing affection. There was not a day where you did not cross paths with him, often purposely carving out time to spend together. You were always available to each other; living within the same keep had made it quite impossible to be apart. 

Your father was Master of Arms; being a second son from house Cerwyn, he was granted knighthood in his youth. The late Lord Rickon Stark had appointed him as Master of Arms a handful of years before you were born. 

Your father had trained Cregan as a boy. The memory of first meeting him was still clear as glass even after all these years. 

The snow was still cool against your cheeks as you sat atop a railing, observing your father working with the boys during one particular day. You had snuck away from your Septa some time ago, preferring the chilled air outside to the stuffy heat indoors. That, and your hands ached from all the needlework you’d been made to practice. 

Cregan had caught sight of you almost immediately. Smirking at your attempt to conceal yourself from searching eyes. You smiled back at him, pressing a small finger to your lips silently, asking him to keep your secret. 

And he did. He said nothing to your father during the training session. Pretending you weren’t there at all. It wasn’t until your father caught you himself that you were sent back inside with clear instructions to apologize to your Septa for running off. 

It was an act of fate that later that day you and Cregan crossed paths in one of the winding halls of Winterfell. In a second long bout of courage, you stopped him to say a proper thank you for not ratting you out. 

The rest was simply history. 

“I was wondering where you’d run off to.” The low rumble of a voice invaded your troubled thoughts. 

The sound of footsteps thudded against the old wood. You turned to see Cregan rounding the corner, his slate eyes resting on you. The flickering torchlight caught the contours of his face, and for a moment, the weight of his presence made your heart race.

“Why are you all the way out here?” He asked, his deep candace rolling over you like thunder. 

“I just needed some air.” You answered, hoping he’d deem it a suitable reply. “The festivities got a bit overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a thrill of familiar fondness down your spine. “Overwhelming is one way to put it. I can hardly hear myself think in there.” He stepped closer, the warmth of his body casting like a shield against the cold. “But I am glad I’ve found you.”

You nodded, not catching the implicating tone in his voice. You dropped your gaze to the frost-kissed ground. “I suppose everyone is eager to make an impression tonight. Especially the ladies.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, laced with a bitterness that you were not used to hearing from your own voice. 

He noted the sour tone in your words. He himself admitted to being caught offhand at the unexpected abundance of marriage proposals. When he had alluded to wanting to look for a wife, he hadn’t anticipated this. Truthfully, the only woman he would want to wed was standing beside him. In the years of closeness with you, you had unknowingly taken his heart right from him. He recognized the fact that he hadn’t owned his heart for some time now. He had given it to you long before he even realized it. 

If he was certain you would accept, he’d have asked your hand in marriage instead of entertaining half the northern population.

“Eager indeed.” He replied, his tone shifting to something more serious. “It is all rather…overwhelming.” He sighed, echoing your words from before. 

You disliked seeing him so burdened. In the months since he took the role of Warden, though, that oppressed look marred his handsome features far too frequently for your liking. 

“You need not rush into anything.” You consoled, wanting to take his strains and carry them yourself.

He grunted, resting his hands over the pommel of Ice. The great longsword hanging at his side. “Would you have me keep my people in suspense?”

“I would rather you keep them waiting than to risk your own happiness.” You said, your voice softer now, carrying the weight of your concern. Sometimes it felt foolish to worry over him so much, but you supposed that was a condition of loving someone.

“What do you think would make me happy?” The question wasn’t unexpected; he oftentimes sought out your advice just as you would with him. But to speak with him of his potential nuptials felt like a shard of ice was lodged in your chest. 

You met his eyes; gone from the silver shine was the frustration replaced with a sort of keenness to know your thoughts. Most would say his eyes were two wild winter storms, and they could be if he was so inclined. But you had always seen them as bright stars hanging high in the sky. Shining down with their silver light that pulled you in and stole your breath. 

“I would say marriage to someone who could honor and carry on the traditions of your family.” You replied, a peak of the true depths of your devotion seeping into your words. “A lady that would care for you, and not simply the title that came with you.” 

“Someone like you, perhaps?” Cregan suggested a teasing lilt in his voice, but there was no mistaking the tinge of sincerity. He stepped closer then, forcing you to twist your position to where your back was against the railing. His warmth clouded your senses for a moment, causing you to lose track of your thoughts. 

“You jest.” You retort, a nervous laugh bubbling from your lips. “This is serious, Cregan.” 

His expression shifted, a spark of intensity igniting in his eyes. “I am being serious.” He countered, an unusual tension crackling in the cold air. There was something new swimming in his eyes, firm but soft the longer he looked at you. “You’ve always been more to me than just a companion or a friend. You must know that.” 

A scoff sounded from you. “Must I?” You echoed incredulously, your heart pounding in your chest. The chilly air felt electric, humming with unspoken words and emotions that had been buried for too long. 

He pressed closer, his presence mudding your resolve. “Yes,” he insisted. “Every time I look at you, all I can think about is how much I crave you by my side above all else.” His voice was low and earnest, not a hint of deception to be found. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your lips parting to take in a shaky breath. “I am not a woman that could ever be considered as your wife.” The words stung as they left your lips, trembling on their descent. He was alluding to everything you had secretly hoped for, yet the reality of it felt like a dream you weren’t sure you could grasp. “I am the daughter of a second son. I hold no titles, no grand connections. And certainly-”

Cregan silenced you with a searing kiss. One that was all flames and fervor, but slow enough to feel every movement of his mouth molding over yours. A soft gasp slipped past you, and he drank it in, claiming it for himself. 

Your hands hung by your sides for a moment before your body caught up with your mind. But once his solid arms coiled themselves around your hips, something in you snapped in place finally. Hands went to his shoulders, gripping onto the thick fur of his cloak. He pulled you in, your back coming off the railing, pressing you to him so no space was between you. 

Your lips struggled to match his pace, but it was not for lack of trying. All these years of tampered emotions and repressed desires made everything blur together. The only tangible thing to be felt was Cregan. He held you with the utmost gentleness, his hands falling along your curves but never drifting too far or squeezing too tightly. 

The yearning threatened to spill over. Bubbling within the both of you and being tended higher and higher with every slide of your lips against each other. You knew better than anyone that he had a roughness about him. And you wanted to coax it out; you wanted him. 

His teeth nipped your bottom lip as he walked you backwards. Pressing you into a wooden pillar, he brought you flush against him. Though, through all the furs and layers of clothing, there was nothing to be felt. You could sense his hunger in the subtle low noises in the back of his throat and the way his touch grew feverish. 

When he left your mouth to trail his lips along your jaw and down your neck, you took the opportunity to reign in your self-control. When he hitched one of your legs around his hips, though, you could feel your composure slipping away. The line of propriety daring you to cross it as his fingers kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh. 

“Cregan.” You sighed as he kissed a line across your jaw. There were things you wanted to say. Things you needed to speak about. But your desire-addled mind couldn’t bring forth a single syllable. 

A loud roar of laughter sounded from the great hall, pulling you both back to the present. Cregan huffs into the crook of your neck, the hot puff of his breath sending goosebumps along your spine. 

He dropped your leg but kept his hold on your waist. “I will not take you for the first time in my halls where anyone could see.” Everything inside him screamed at him to continue, to hike up your skirts and make you his once and for all. But he would not have the first time muddied with the risk of prying eyes. He would have you, but only somewhere safe, warm, and private. 

“If this is what you want,” Cregan murmured. “I would have you in my chambers, though; if you wish to not continue, I will leave at once.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, eyes meeting his as your hands slid from his shoulders to his chest. “I have never wanted anything more than you for as long as I can recall.”

With your words solidifying what you both wanted, he pressed another quick kiss to your lips. Taking your hand in his, you made the all too familiar walk to his chambers. 

You had some time to think while trending through the halls. Your mind was made up, resolved, and set in stone, but nerves prickled at your skin. Not for the act itself really, but the knowledge it would be with Cregan. After all this time and all the wondering, it was finally happening. You hadn’t quite wrapped your head around it yet. 

This part of the keep was dead silent, far away enough from the great hall that the raucous of the gathering was a distant memory. The doors to his chambers were tall, heavy oak, crafted from large stocks of trees from the Wolfswood. As Cregan pushed them open, the warmth from inside his rooms wafted out to greet you. 

Passing through the threshold, you felt the shift of everything. Nothing would be the same after tonight. “What happens afterwards?” You question, words leaving your lips in a whisper as his makes an expedition across your jaw. You didn’t want to doubt him, but all of this felt like a dream moving so quickly you couldn’t discern if anything was real. 

“I will make you mine tonight.” He murmured, one arm going around your waist. “And you make me yours. Then we will be wed before the Weirwood tree.” 

“You would make me your wife?” You asked softly, watching as his face became puzzled. 

“Were my words not convincing enough?” A smile pulled on his lips, though he did not let it overtake his expression. He hummed a deep sound, lips falling here and there on your neck. 

His sugary tone thrilled you to your core. His hinting words and the press of his mouth made a surge of arousal swirl within you. “Perhaps you should just show me,” you urged. 

Not wasting another second, his arm around your waist hauled you to him. Your fingers gripping the fur of his cloak, pulling yourself as close as possible to him. Cregan’s mouth met yours frantically. His kiss was hungry, filled with a deep-seated yearning for you that he had tried to ignore. 

The heat of the room multiplied. Gone were the frozen winds from outside, a blazing inferno taking its place. That fire churned between you as he kissed you with the roughness you knew lay within him. Once again, you failed to keep up, but you were more than content to let him kiss you into a stupor. His teeth scraping the skin of your bottom lip as he worked on the clasp of your cloak. 

Letting the heavy garment fall to the floor at your feet, you shivered at the loss of its warmth. Wanting to level things out, your hands undid the fastening of his, a thrill shooting to you, noticing the eagerness in which he tossed it to the ground. 

“Cregan.” You whispered, trembling at the feeling of his hands at your back untying the laces of your dress. The material sagging around your shoulders. Grey stars met your eyes, asking you if he could continue. Nodding your consent, he slid the dress down, never letting his eyes wander as the garment pooled at your feet.

Your shift was the only thing separating your nakedness from his eyes. But you couldn’t help but feel the severe imbalance between you. As he made home in your neck again, your hands went to work on the restraints of his tunic. One by one, the clasps opened for you until you pushed the clothing from his shoulders. 

He huffed out a laugh into the skin of your neck that turned into a shudder when your fingers slid under his shirt. You let your hands feel along the corded muscle of his abdomen. Years of hard training formed his body into the mountain of a man that he was now. 

You moaned outright when he bit the skin below your ear. His hands mapping out the dips of your curves. Gripping here and there with his digits, unable to help himself when feeling the heat of your skin from beneath the thin shift. 

Growing desperate, you started raising his shirt up to say you wanted it off. He untangled himself from you just enough to aid you in lifting it over his head. It joined the rest of your clothing on the floor.

Seeing what was always hidden underneath those layers of thick garments had your head spinning. He was all solid muscle and pure strength. Powerful yes, but knowing that he would never use that power against you in a way to cause harm was exhilarating. 

Not being able to help yourself, you let your fingers lightly glide over the impressive map of his stomach. He indulges you for a few moments before your nails scrape along his skin, causing a growl to rumble through his chest. Snatching up your hands, he pulled you flush against him again. He devours your mouth with uncontrolled need. Lust was all but dripping from him, but the underlying affection would not be drowned out. Cregan was a man of few words more often than not, so he preferred to show you all that you meant to him. 

Hands taking hold of your hips, he maneuvered you to his bed. His eyes shining with tenderness as you let him lay you down on the mattress. The furs covering the sheets were soft beneath you, surrounding you in a comforting embrace. Cregan stood over you for a moment before going to his knees. Spreading your legs apart, he made home between them, his shoulders coming up under your knees. 

He wanted to taste every inch of you, trail his lips and tongue along every curve and sensitive patch of skin he could find. Hands coming up to the straps of your shift, he paused to see you already shaking your head. He grinned to himself as he removed the last bit of fabric hiding you from him. Off your shoulders to reveal your breasts, down your sides to uncover your stomach, and finally letting it fall away to bare your center to him. 

“Let me taste you.” He rumbled, his voice dropping deeper than you’d ever heard it. It’s timbre shooting a buzz of delight through you. The heat in your belly grows hotter, filling you with yearning that threatens to break you. 

You nodded, feeling the warmth trickle down to your core. “Yes, please.” Those two words were all he needed—your breathy answer coaxing an unquenchable thirst within him. And he intends to drink his fill. 

He kissed his way down your body. Guaranteeing you felt every kiss pressed to your skin and every scrap of his teeth. You were growing breathless already, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Anticipation makes your heart thud wildly inside your chest.

His lips gave attention to every plane of your body. Scorching his path from your neck to your breasts, and then to your stomach to make his way to your thighs. 

A low grumble crawled up his throat when your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. The heavy pressure of his mouth slid closer up the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin there before going over it with his tongue. He could all but smell your arousal now this close to your center. The hunger to dive right in was almost overwhelming. The broad expanse of his shoulders pushed your legs further apart. Settling them over his back, his hand gripped the flesh of your thighs. 

As the breath caught in your throat, your stomach swirled with delicious nerves. The warm slick gathered between your thighs was a glittering treasure Cregan took for himself. A surge of self-satisfaction rippled through him. 

He takes in the wiggling of your body on his bed and hears the shaky inhales of your breath. Your thighs were twitching in his hold as he sank his teeth into the soft skin once more. You were like silk, smooth under his touch. The difference of his calloused fingers against your velvet skin was pure excellence in his eyes. 

The first kiss he gave your slit knocked the breath from your lungs. When he licked a burning stripe up your core, your hearing grew fuzzy. His movements were careful and calculated to push you to the edge of complete insanity. 

His arms around your hips went to bring you closer, a groan clawing up his throat as he pursued the pleasure of your cunt. He opened you to him with his tongue, desperate for whatever you granted him. A whine parted your lips as your hands gripped at his hair, your hips chasing the feel of his mouth without you even realizing it. 

He was nothing if not formidable, even while he lapped at your wetness like a man starved. Resting between your legs, shoulders tensed with the vigor of his movements. He was solely focused on you, moaning into your center absently like he had never tasted something so sweet. He would spend the rest of his days with his face buried in your cunt if he could. 

The heated cord within your belly continuously wound tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue. His mouth was ravenous, kissing and sucking with urgency, like if he didn’t make you come on his mouth, he would die.

“Cregan.” You sighed, writhing within his hold, causing his arms to grow tighter around you, locking you in place. The feeling was complete euphoria but also the sweetest torture at the same time. You yanked on the dark stands of his hair, urging him closer as if he wasn’t already practically inside you. “Please, don’t stop.” You begged, glancing down to see his starry eyes stuck on you. 

He wasn’t about to let such a saccharine request go unanswered. But he also wasn’t going to let you squirm and wiggle about as you pleased. His belly was raging with hot fire, waiting for the chance to be released. His cock strained against his trousers, aching with the need to be inside of you. But he wanted to taste you spilling on his tongue first. He kept up with his heavy strokes against your center, drawing you closer and closer to your peak. 

You were like honey on his tongue, surgery and sweet, all for him to devour. Listening to the melody of your whines and moans quickly became his favorite music. It brought him pleasure almost as much as it did you to know the ruinous state he’s gotten you in. 

Your legs began to shake around his head, small tremors of ecstasy swimming through you. Cregan raked the path from your entrance to your clit with his tongue, circling the bundle of nerves a few times before taking it in his mouth. The soft gasps of his name that came from your lips as he sucked on your pearl were maddening. It had his fingers digging harder into the pliant flesh of your thighs, surely leaving bruises he would have to kiss once this was all over. 

He was known to all as a stoic and serious man, but when he flicked his silver-hued eyes at you, they were nothing if not a flurry of affection. The sight of you on his bed breathless and lost to the pleasure he was giving you was heart-stopping. He had always thought you to be the prettiest girl he’d ever known, but now he likened you to a goddess. You had bewitched him body and soul. 

His mouth still worked over your core. Switching between dipping his tongue into your entrance and wrapping his lips around your clit. Whenever he sucked the nerves in his mouth, he was rewarded with the prettiest sound to ever grace his ears. A high-pitched whine that slowly faded to a deep sigh. 

You wanted to close your legs around his head, lock him there for the foreseeable future. But every time you moved your legs, he pried them apart, keeping you open to him so he could lavish his affection upon your cunt. His nose nudged your pearl whenever he dipped further down. You didn’t know how much more you could take. The peak was right there within your grasp; you just needed something to push you the rest of the way. 

He was unrelenting, seemingly just as obsessed with bringing you apart with his mouth. A scream ripped past your lips as Cregan took your clit back in his mouth once more. His teeth bit down on the sensitive bundle of nerves, not hard enough to break skin but just enough to shoot a spike of pleasure pain down your spine. He drew his teeth away and soothed your pearl with his tongue.

“Cregan!” You sputtered, hips lurching forward to chase his mouth. You felt as though your whole body was on fire, that any moment now you would burst into flames. Your eyes screwed shut as stars exploded behind your eyelids. He dragged his teeth over your clit again, making your grip on his hair tighten even more. If you weren’t so out of it, you would have worried about pulling his hair out completely. “Do that again.” You pleaded with a trembling breath. 

A huff of mild amusement escaped him before he was wrapping his mouth around your pearl and biting. He pulled at it with his teeth only to release it and sooth it over with his tongue. He drew whimper after whimper, moan after moan out of you. All the while, your legs shook around him with the weight of your impending release. 

“Gods, I’m close!” A pleading moan tore past your lips, brain going hazy with the mounting pleasure. Your nails dug into his scalp as the cord grew taunt. The roughness didn’t discourage him, though. It merely made him all the more determined to push you over into oblivion. 

“Please.” You spoke out into the air. A few more moments of his ministrations: bite, pull, sooth, suck. The cord snapped. A sharp gasp sounded from you as you shook like you were back in the cold winds outside. Everything spilled over; goosebumps erupted over your flesh. The heated tidal wave of your release rushing along your body. The sheer power of it having your back arching from the bed. 

It felt as if your body was humming as your peak subsided slowly. Sinking back upon the furs, you untangled your fingers from Cregan’s hair. He was still gently lapping at your wetness as you reluctantly pushed him away. He lifted his head, eyes looking upon you with such reverence. 

He kissed his way up your thighs, making sure to pay extra attention to the bruises he’d left. His lips were soft and caring on your sensitive skin. As he made his way further upwards, he pressed his face into your stomach. “I love you.” He whispered so faintly into your skin you weren’t sure if he even realized he said it. 

“What?” You gasped, going up on your elbows to look at him. Face still buried in your middle, he murmured it again. This time raising his eyes to gauge your reaction. “You do?” You mumbled, becoming flustered all over again. 

He crawled over you, covering your body beneath his burly physique as he claimed your lips. Your hand went to his cheek, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I do,” he husked. You took a moment to look at him, his eyes shining with adoration. “You still doubt my affections?” 

You’re shaking your head instantly. “No,” you protest. “I simply didn’t expect you to say that.” You were grinning like a fool, mouth curved upwards in a beaming smile. He returned it, with one albeit smaller than yours, but it was still all him. You laughed into the kiss he gave you as he situated himself back between your legs. 

“Allow me to show you then.” He spoke in a hushed voice. All you had to do was nod, and he was shucking off his breeches, kicking them from the bed. 

You couldn’t see him, but you felt him big and hard against your thigh. Nerves swirled within you—not that he would ever hurt you intentionally, but that there would be no way around it hurting. You knew he would put your well-being above all else, though. 

The barely-there smile still rested upon his face. “You’re still smiling.” You point out completely besotted with this mountain of a man. 

“Hush woman.” He let out a humming noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. It was difficult to keep up his stone-like appearance in your presence. It always had been, but with your wide eyes looking up at him still hazy with pleasure, it was increasingly harder. 

Bodies aligned and chests pressed against each other, you leaned up your lips searching for him, wanting another kiss. The kiss was as sweet as honey, soft as silk, much like you. From deep within his throat, a low rumble of approval echoed, and his eyebrows furrowed together as he returned the kiss with fervor.

You went to wrap your arms around his shoulders and found you could barely touch your hands together at the nape of his neck. Still though, it didn’t stop you from racking your nails across his skin. Hoping it would spurn him on. His cock rocked against your thigh, tip hitting your core for a split second. 

“Patience, my girl.” He warned, rough palm soothing back your hair. “Slowly, I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed a line across your collarbone, nose skimming along your skin. You felt him slide up along your thigh, the tip nudging at your entrance again. Just that little friction had shivers racing up and down your spine. 

He canted his hips forward, pushing just slightly into your cunt. He was as big as he seemed evidently; the sting spread further as he slid in slowly. Inch by inch, with every ridge and vein feeling like it was being imprinted inside you. Once he was half way seated, you couldn’t keep quiet any longer. A faint grunt of discomfort slipped past you. Your hand gripping the nape of his neck tightly. 

He paused, looking down at you. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Keep going. I’m alright.” You promised, loosening your hold on him. He pressed a soothing kiss to your hairline before he pressed forward again. 

Having him inside you even halfway was something you would have to get used to. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; the stretch and sting were fading already. Once he was fully inside, the feeling of him filling you was almost overwhelming in the best ways. Cregan gave you ample time to adjust, holding himself back from rutting into you. He never wished to harm you, even if your warm tightness was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt. 

You tested your limits by rolling your hips to meet his. A hiss left the both of you as his cock slid even deeper, hitting some part of you that had you seeing stars. “Move.” You urged, back arching to press against him. 

He drew out only to snap his hips forward, driving himself back in. Taking care to be as gentle as he could, he began a harsh but deep hitting pace. He was ardent in his lovemaking, cock thrusting into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. He was keeping good on his promise to show you just how much he loved you. 

You wrapped a leg around his hips, his hand instantly going to hold it in place. Fingers lightly running across your skin. Your other leg spread wider for him, giving him as much room as you could to accommodate his size. A melody of whines and gasps flew from you with every thrust. Your nails running down the rippling strength of his back. 

His face was hidden in your neck, lips assaulting your skin. Bruising kisses were placed wherever he could reach. Teeth joining to nip here and there, leaving marks that you would deal with later. He pounded into you with equal fervor and tenderness. Cregan was nothing if not devoted in all things, so each thrust was measured to ensure he seated himself fully inside you every time. 

With the whole of Winterfell in the great hall or asleep, you worried not about concealing the volume of your moans. Needy whines and whimpers left you, one after the other. A particularly harsh snap of his hips had you stuttering out his name. You felt like you were being split in two, but it was the most pleasurable thing you’d ever experienced. 

The friction of your bodies sliding together was addicting. Each glide of his cock along your innerwalls drove you closer and closer to another peak. Walls tightening around him, drawing a muffled curse, he spoke into your neck. Your hands went to his hair once again, bringing his mouth to yours. You kissed him as his cock kissed your womb. Your lips molded together as he dug his fingers into the flesh of your thigh. 

You nipped at his bottom lips as he had done to you, causing a growl to rumble up his throat. There was urgency about him now, with his release building and building buzzing at the base of his spine. 

He dropped the hold on your thigh, planting his weight on his forearms by your head. Using the leverage to rut inside you at a faster and deeper pace. Intensity danced between you as his cock drove into you, seated fully inside you, then pulling out only to plunge back in. 

There was an almost divine feeling to being inside of you. As if Cregan was made for you and you were made for him. He had to wed you, had to say the vows beneath the Weirwood tree, and make you his wife. His Lady of Winterfell. 

He groaned at the thought, snatching your lips between his own for another blazing kiss. Teeth knocking together and tongues sliding over each other—this was not a romantic kiss. It was full of base needs and wants. The drive to claim you as his and never give another man the chance to see you like this. You were his. 

“Cregan please.” You pleaded into his mouth, your breath mingling together. He didn’t relent; your whispered appeal only spurred him on. He was aching and pulsing inside you. Cock thrusting so deeply, he vaguely pictured you struggling to walk in the morning. The thought sent a smug ripple down his spine. Your thighs were trembling, and with this being your first time taking him, you very likely will be sore. 

“Do you have another in you?” He huffed out the question. His release was just within his reach, but he wanted to feel you gush around him first. Have the tightness of your walls gripping him like steel as he pushes into you for the last time before spilling his seed. 

“Mhm.” You hummed around your harmony of whimpers and gasps. You rolled your hips to meet his as if to further prove what you wanted. The friction doing delicious things to the both of you. 

You’d lost count of how many times he’d sunk into you. It was too many to keep up with. But the look that glimmered in his eyes told you it wouldn’t be much longer until another rush of euphoria greeted you. 

His cock battered into you, his pace becoming faster than before. His hands moved from beside your head to grip your hips. Fingers sliding under to hold the small of your back, he lifted you slightly off the bed. The new angle had him hitting that spot within you that had you writhing up to meet him. Your senses became cloudy with nothing but the feeling of him inside breaking through. 

“That’s it, my girl.” He husked out, feeling you shudder beneath him as your cunt clamped down on his length. He kept up his pace, racing after his own peak. Lowering you back down to rest on the furs again, he groaned heavy and hot into your neck as he spilled inside of you. The warmth exploded at the base of his spine and spread. Keeping his hips moving to help you both ride out your pleasure, he thrusted into you a few more times. 

You whimpered as he withdrew from you, but he was quick to soothe you with a slow kiss to your lips. You fingers threaded through his brown tresses holding him to you. The display was all care and affection, a stark contrast to the intense moment between you just seconds ago.

When he rolled off you, he didn’t go far, his large form laying out beside you and drawing you to his side. His strong arm slung around you, locking you to his side. 

An easy silence fell over you as you both regained your senses. The aftermath of your coupling filled to tender caresses of hands over heated skin. Soft presses of his lips upon your jaw, making your head relax into the pillow. 

You weren’t aware of how much time passed before a halting thought crossed your mind. “Should I not leave?” You asked. Cregan furrowed his brows at you as if you were speaking in riddles. “There will surely be whispers if I am seen in your chambers in the morning,” you clarified. 

“Nonsense,” he dismissed. His hold on you becomes tighter and a touch more protective. “You will be my wife soon enough. Whatever any of my people have to say about it, they will do well to make sure I do not hear of it.” 

Completely smitten with him as well as his response, you choose not to argue. Much preferring to settle back into his warmth and spend the night caged within his arms.

I think this is the longest fic I have ever wrote, but I'm in love with it.

﹙taglist﹚@madame-fear

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[deadghosy]

Ive just been reading your Lucifer big sister headcanons, and thier so so so so good, i love how you wrote it🥰. What about Lucifer with a little sister? Any thoughts? How different would he treat her? Maybe she fell at the same time as him and Lucifer blames himself for leading his sister down the same path as him. I can seen him being a protective older brother because come on their in hell surrounded by sinners its got to be stressful even tho she isnt weak what so ever but Lucifer can help but baby his sweet little sister.

(Obviously no pressure to write this)

Have a nice day 😁👋

As a younger sibling, I was gonna make this as I made the elder sister! So I’m glad you asked this as I can’t help but love to make this version. 🦆 sorry if it’s long, I just had fun making this🔥

YOUNGER SISTER! READER X PLATONIC HAZBIN HOTEL

Prompt: you are the younger sister of Lucifer Morningstar who fell along her older brother.

Dead ass you fell on top of Lucifer when you both fell from heaven.

“Groannsss….GET OFF!” Lucifer yells pushing you off him. You huffed getting off him as you dust yourself.

I headcannon reader to have a slight rebellious attitude sometimes like Adam but she’s not as terrible.

Like reader has a shirt that says “kiss my ass” with a kiss mark on the shirt as she puts up a rock gesture 🤟

Lucifer found your shirt and burned it, he can’t have his baby sister have such an inappropriate shirt!

“LU-LU! NOOO MY SHIRTTT” “THIS SHIRT IS NASTY LITTLE SIS!-”

He put his hand to your face to keep you away as he burned it. It was a funny sight as you huffed kicking him in his nuts as he groaned falling face first to the ground.

I also headcannon that reader is the reason why Charlie had a emo phase as reader kinda has a different aesthetic than Lucifer.

But on a serious note, Lucifer was kinda scared when you fell with him as he puts his hand through his hair watching you sleep. He couldn’t believe he brought his baby sister with him on his down fall. He knew he influenced you as you looked up to him more than the other angels. It was like if you were his child, his baby.

But he tucks you in bed as you were sprawled out in your bed snoring loudly. He chuckles kissing your head and leaving your room as he closes your door with a slight sad look.

Back to the funny sibling things, you are definitely the one who sneaks in the kitchen to take his leftovers for payback. After Lucifer walks out of his workshop tired and hungry.

You basically told him to take care of himself more. He walked in the kitchen to find his leftovers gone. So you could tell what happened next.

“Y/NNNNN!” You heard a fierce yell as you had shoved the food down your mouth and ran as you heard a loud flapping of wings behind you. “WHEN I CATCH YOU, YOU BETTER PRAY!”

It’s was so cartoony at how Lucifer chases you while you ran for you life. You have wings but he flys better than you so it’s no use.

He caught you, making you cook dinner for a month as you groan while he smirks patting a duck like a mafia man. “And you better wash the dishes too-” “NOW YOU ASKIN' TOOO MUCHHH!”

But soon the sinners came and made the freedom Lucifer gave them, turn into pure hell as you watch worried at the stress your older brother had. Lucifer tries to smile to show you it’s not affecting him, but it is.

He soon makes you stay all time in the palace, scared for your safety as you stay in your room worried at how isolated he soon becomes. Charlie would walk around babbling about you as she kept your company. You smile at your cute niece giving her boops to her nose.

I also headcannon you and Lucifer are like secret twins as you both hyper fixate about a lot of things like [favorite thing] as he hyper fixates on ducks and gives you his ducks to show off how cool he is as your older brother.

But also I can see reader being shorter than Lucifer, like to his shoulder as Lucifer blinks like a frog as you smile with an evil gremlin ready to stab someone.

But now for some overprotective brother headcannons.

You know how Lucifer when to see Charlie at her hotel, you joined wearing basically a female version of Lucifer’s outfit. But you wore shades to off your ✨coolness✨

Alastor was irritated at your louder personality but you also had a charming aura around you like how Lucifer has his prideful smile. Alastor smirks down at you as you are shorter than Lucifer, he kisses your hand with made you just stand there with a dotted blank expression.

Immediately Lucifer picks you up like a doll as he growls at Alastor like a dog ready to chump his hand off. He knew the radio demon just wanted to piss him off, so the whole time you were in the hotel with him. He always has you close and behind him from the radio demon.

Now if it was a sinner trying to court you, they better hope you don’t snitch like the young sibling you are. Cause ohhhh boy! Lucifer is teleporting to their house to give them nightmares. Maybe even killing them if they made you uncomfortable.

Heaven and hell agrees you are a cutie, demon or angel. Cause in heaven there were angels trying to court you but your brother was always behind you looking stern as he puff his chest trying to see if they suit you best.

Like literally he scares people off as you stand there minding your business.

“I feel a disturbance in the air…” Lucifer says as he was reading a book but pulls the curtains to see an angel trying to court you with their wings.

Immediately you’re being teleported to your room confused as a duck poofs in your hand.

“What the fuckkkk….” You say confused

[novaursa]

A Dragon's Claim

- Summary: Daemon returns from his exile during the celebrations of Rhaenyra’s and Leanor’s wedding, with only one thing in mind: to claim you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra and is bonded with Grey Ghost. These events happen before and lead to The Blood of the Dragon. The list of all my works in chronological order is on my blog, pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content in this one)

- Word count: 4 538

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The air in the great hall is thick with tension and mirth as lords and ladies gather beneath the towering pillars of the Red Keep. The glow of a thousand candles casts a golden hue over the faces of the realm’s most powerful, yet the flickering light cannot reach the shadows where whispers thrive.

You sit at the high table, a smile frozen on your lips as you watch Rhaenyra and Laenor share a dance, their steps polished but strained. Your elder sister’s gown is woven with gold and red thread, a stark contrast to Laenor’s pale silks. The match is political, a necessity, and everyone knows it. But the feast continues on, with music and wine flowing freely to disguise the uneasy undercurrents.

Your father, King Viserys, is content for now, raising his cup with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You know how deeply he misses your mother, and how hard he’s tried to keep the family together since her death. Beside him, Queen Alicent's gaze flickers between you and your siblings, always watchful, as if measuring the distance between you all.

Yet the evening shifts suddenly when a presence enters the hall, one that sends a murmur rippling through the gathered guests. Heads turn, voices hush. You feel the change in the air before you even see him.

Daemon.

Your Uncle strides in as if the years and the disgrace of his exile mean nothing. His long silver hair is swept back, and his black leather doublet clings to him like shadow. The greenish glow of dragon glass at his throat only sharpens the edges of his smile. He's dressed in dark finery, as if mourning—and you recall, with a bitter twist in your gut, that Lady Rhea Royce has just died. A hunting accident, they say. But few believe it was an accident at all.

Your breath catches as his violet eyes sweep across the hall before landing on you. There's a dangerous glint there, something raw and unsettling, something that reminds you why you’ve kept him at arm’s length all these years. You feel it like a caress, lingering too long, too close.

He moves with purpose, winding through the throng of courtiers until he’s at your side. Your fingers tighten around your goblet as he dips into an elegant bow, just deep enough to mock propriety. The room buzzes with speculation, but Daemon pays it no mind. His attention is wholly on you.

"Little Niece," he purrs, voice smooth as silk, yet laced with something darker. "It’s been too long."

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing as you regard him. "Not long enough," you reply, keeping your tone cool, distant.

He laughs—a low, rich sound that curls in your stomach, unsettling in its familiarity. "Such sharp words. You wound me, Y/N."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead taking a sip from your cup. "What do you want, Uncle? Surely you did not come all this way just to attend a wedding."

"Why would I not?" He shifts closer, the scent of leather, smoke, and something distinctly Daemon filling the air around you. "After all, it’s a family affair. And I’ve missed our little talks."

You can feel the heat of his gaze, the way it lingers on your face before dipping lower, as if taking you in inch by inch. It’s almost predatory. You’ve seen how other women melt under that stare, but it’s never had that effect on you. If anything, it’s only ever put you on edge.

"Missed?" you echo with a scoff. "You were banished, or did you forget?"

Daemon’s smile doesn’t falter, but it sharpens. "Exile is a state of mind, Niece. It changes nothing of who I am—or what I want."

Your jaw tightens. He’s always been this way—playing at power, testing limits. When you were younger, you found it thrilling, the way he flirted with danger, the way he seemed to live without consequence. But now, all you see is a man who’s always hungered for more than what is his.

"And what is it that you want now, Daemon?" you ask, holding his gaze. You don’t flinch, even when his smile widens.

His voice drops, low and intimate, a whisper meant for your ears alone. "The same thing I’ve always wanted. You."

The words are a knife, sharp and precise. They cut through the haze of laughter and music that surrounds you. You know what he’s asking, what he’s offering—and you also know you’d be a fool to accept.

You set down your goblet with deliberate care, your expression hardening. "You’re wasting your time. Whatever game you’re playing, find another piece for it."

His amusement doesn’t fade, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something darker, more frustrated. For a moment, the mask slips, and you see the hunger beneath, the yearning he’s kept at bay since you last rejected him.

"You think you’re above this, above me," he murmurs, his voice laced with challenge. "But we’re more alike than you care to admit, Y/N. Fire runs in our veins, and it will burn until we claim what’s ours."

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine, but you refuse to let it show. "Perhaps," you say coolly, standing from your seat and stepping back, putting distance between you. "But that fire will not consume me. Not for you. Not ever."

His gaze follows you as you move away, back into the crowd where the music drowns out the tension of your exchange. You feel his eyes on you, a burning brand that lingers even when you force yourself to focus on the dancing couples and the revelry. But Daemon Targaryen is not so easily dismissed.

You know this won’t be the last time he tries. He’s always been relentless in his pursuits. But you’ve held him off before—and you’ll do it again, no matter how many times he attempts to draw you into his web.

Yet in the depths of your mind, a small voice wonders how long you can keep resisting before the fire spreads.

The hall is alive with music and movement, swirling skirts and polished boots creating a dance of color and grace. You find yourself swept into the rhythm, partnered with Lord Tyland Lannister—a golden lion of the Westerlands, resplendent in his crimson and gold. He’s handsome enough, with a confident smile and courteous manners, but he lacks the edge of danger that seems to follow Targaryens like a shadow. 

Still, you laugh politely as he makes some jest about the boisterous nature of the court. Tyland is careful, measured in his charm, his hand respectfully placed at your waist as you twirl together across the floor. Yet your mind is only half on the conversation, aware that a pair of intense violet eyes is tracking your every move.

Daemon watches from where he leans against a pillar, his posture deceptively relaxed. He appears disinterested to those who don’t know him well, one hand holding a goblet of wine, the other idly tapping against his leg. But beneath that mask of ease is a tightly coiled tension, a hungry beast waiting for the right moment to strike. His gaze is riveted to you, sharp and possessive, a wolf studying its prey from afar.

Beside him, King Viserys attempts to draw his brother into conversation, oblivious to Daemon’s distraction. 

“It’s good to see you back, brother,” Viserys begins, his tone amiable as he turns to face Daemon. “We’ve missed you here. It’s been far too long since the family was whole.”

Daemon barely acknowledges the words, his focus entirely elsewhere. His eyes flick over the way you laugh at something Tyland says, the way your lips curve in amusement. A flicker of annoyance passes through him, a subtle tightening of his jaw. He’s always despised the Lannisters—their arrogance, their ambition, their sense of entitlement. And seeing you in Tyland’s arms only fuels the simmering irritation.

Viserys, oblivious to his brother’s dark thoughts, continues, raising his goblet to Daemon. “Rhaenyra is happy tonight, isn’t she? It’s a good match for her, one that will strengthen the realm. Laenor is—”

“A distraction,” Daemon mutters, cutting him off, his tone sharp enough to draw Viserys’ attention.

Viserys frowns, looking at him more closely. “What’s on your mind, Daemon? You’ve barely said a word since you arrived. If it’s about Rhea—”

Daemon lets out a dry chuckle, finally turning his gaze to Viserys, but it’s laced with disdain. “Rhea is long dead, brother. Her bones are cold and buried. Let us not pretend we mourn her now.”

Viserys shifts uncomfortably, clearly unsure of how to respond. “Still, it’s no easy thing to lose a wife, even one you didn’t—”

Daemon cuts him off again, this time with a flick of his hand. “Enough, Viserys. I didn’t come here to talk about the past.”

“What did you come here for, then?” Viserys asks, voice softening as he tries to reach out to his brother. “We can put things right between us. There’s no need for more distance. We’re family—”

Daemon’s gaze snaps back to you, watching as you spin gracefully in Tyland’s arms, your dress swirling around you like flames licking at the air. His lips curve into a faint, humorless smile. “Family…” he repeats, the word bitter on his tongue. “Yes, it’s always about family.”

He doesn’t bother hiding the way his eyes track your every movement. Viserys follows his line of sight, finally understanding where Daemon’s attention lies. He clears his throat, his expression hardening. “Y/N is not for you, Daemon. She’s my daughter, and I’ll not have her tangled in whatever schemes you’re plotting.”

Daemon’s smile widens, but there’s no warmth in it. “Schemes? You wound me, brother. I only have your daughter’s best interests at heart.”

“Do you?” Viserys’ voice takes on a warning edge. “You’ve already caused enough trouble tonight with your sudden appearance. If you truly care for her, you’ll leave her be.”

But Daemon doesn’t answer. His thoughts are locked elsewhere, watching how you move with such effortless grace, the way your eyes spark with life as you dance, seemingly carefree. He knows you’re aware of his presence, can sense it in the way you avoid looking in his direction, how you keep Tyland between you and the shadows where Daemon lurks. It’s a clever tactic—one that both frustrates and excites him.

“She’s stubborn,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as his eyes narrow. “But that’s what makes the chase worthwhile.”

Viserys stiffens, his grip tightening around his cup. “I’m warning you, Daemon. You’ll not drag her into your games. If you truly have any regard for her, you’ll stop this.”

Daemon turns to face his brother fully now, his expression unreadable, but his tone is laced with cold mockery. “And what if she doesn’t want your protection, Viserys? What if she wants something… else?”

“That’s enough.” The king’s voice is steel now, but it wavers slightly, betraying the deep undercurrent of worry. “I won’t allow it. You’ll stay away from her.”

Daemon holds his brother’s gaze for a long, tense moment before he breaks into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, brother. I live to serve.”

But as Viserys takes his words at face value and turns away, relief evident in his posture, Daemon’s eyes drift back to you. A storm brews within them, filled with unresolved hunger and an unyielding determination. He watches as you end the dance with a gracious curtsy, Lord Tyland offering a courtly bow in return, and his fingers curl tighter around his goblet.

You may think you’ve pushed him away, that you’ve built walls high enough to keep him out. But Daemon Targaryen has never been one to accept defeat—not when there’s something he desires as fiercely as he desires you.

No, the game is far from over. If anything, it’s only just begun. And as you catch his gaze from across the hall, your eyes locking for the briefest of moments before you look away, you feel it too—the inevitability of the fire that threatens to consume you both.

For now, you dance with Lannisters and play your part as the dutiful daughter. But Daemon’s patience, like all things about him, is dangerous. And sooner or later, he knows, you’ll find yourself face-to-face with the truth neither of you can deny—no matter how much you might try to resist it.

The music softens, allowing the hum of conversation to fill the hall. You’re surrounded by a cluster of courtiers, each eager to share a word or a compliment with the princess of the realm. They shower you with flowery flattery, and you respond with practiced grace, a polite smile that never quite reaches your eyes. 

You’re keenly aware of Daemon lurking at the edge of your periphery, a shadow just waiting to slip into the light. He’s watching, waiting for an opening—and when your father becomes occupied by the arrival of Lord Beesbury, Daemon seizes his chance.

The courtiers around you stiffen as Daemon approaches, the atmosphere shifting subtly as they sense the tension that follows him. He cuts through the crowd with the grace of a dragon circling its prey, a dark smile curling on his lips as he stops just beside you. The air crackles with his presence, drawing every eye in the circle toward him.

“Y/N,” he says smoothly, his voice warm honey over cold steel. “I hope you’re not allowing these dullards to bore you.” There’s an undercurrent of possessiveness in the way he says your name, a familiar, disconcerting tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

You keep your expression composed, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing any discomfort. The eyes of the court are upon you, watching for any reaction, any hint of scandal. You cannot afford to make a scene—not tonight, not at Rhaenyra’s wedding. So you take a slow breath and incline your head, allowing him to join the conversation if only to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

“Uncle,” you greet him, your tone carefully neutral. “I find the company quite agreeable, actually.”

A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as he takes a step closer, deliberately brushing the edge of your skirts with his boot. “Do you? Well, perhaps it’s simply my own poor luck that I’ve yet to find anyone in this hall nearly as fascinating as you.”

The compliment is a blade, sharp and glittering with intent. The courtiers exchange nervous glances, unsure of where to place themselves in this verbal dance between the two of you. They sense the tension, the unspoken challenge in Daemon’s words, but they dare not intervene. Instead, they hang back, listening closely while pretending otherwise.

You give a tight smile, deflecting his advance with ease. “How fortunate for you, then, to have found me amidst so many ‘dullards,’ as you so kindly put it.”

He laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends gooseflesh prickling across your skin. “Indeed. But then, I’ve always known where to find the rarest of treasures.”

His eyes lock onto yours, the weight of his gaze heavy with suggestion. You feel the noose of his presence tightening around you, making it harder to keep up the pretense of polite conversation. Every word he speaks is laced with a deeper meaning, a challenge you’re unwilling to meet, yet can’t entirely ignore.

One of the courtiers, a nervous young man from House Florent, clears his throat and tries to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “Princess Y/N, Lord Daemon, I heard the finest fabrics for tonight’s event were imported directly from Qarth. Perhaps you’d care to share your thoughts on—”

Daemon silences him with a glance, his attention never fully leaving you. “I think the princess and I have far more interesting matters to discuss, don’t we, Niece?” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, just loud enough for the others to hear the edge in it. “Or perhaps you’d prefer we step outside, where we might speak more privately?”

You stiffen slightly at his audacity, feeling your control slipping under the intensity of his advance. But you refuse to let him see how he rattles you. “That won’t be necessary,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “We’re perfectly fine where we are.”

Daemon’s smile widens, but it’s not the charming smile of a courtier. It’s something darker, edged with hunger and frustration. He’s testing your boundaries, trying to see how far he can push before you break. And you know that refusing him outright, especially in public, might only embolden him further.

He takes another step closer, his arm brushing against yours as he speaks in a tone meant for your ears alone. “You’ve always been so careful, Y/N. So proper, so well-behaved. But there’s fire in you—I’ve seen it. You can pretend all you like, but you can’t deny what’s in our blood, what we’re meant for.”

You force yourself to meet his gaze, your heart thudding in your chest. “You mistake me, Daemon. Whatever you think we share, you’re wrong. I am not like you.”

“Not yet, perhaps,” he murmurs, his lips barely moving as his breath ghosts across your ear. “But you will be, in time. The fire consumes us all eventually. Why fight what you can’t escape?”

Before you can answer, one of the other courtiers—a lady from House Frey—interjects with a forced laugh, clearly sensing the rising tension. “Lord Daemon, you speak of fire as though it’s something to be embraced. But surely even dragons know better than to be burned alive.”

Daemon doesn’t bother responding to her, his gaze still locked on you. “Perhaps some of us would rather burn than live half-alive.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, a challenge wrapped in seduction. You can feel the eyes of everyone around you, waiting to see how you’ll respond. Every nerve in your body screams at you to walk away, to extricate yourself from this perilous game he’s playing, but the chains of decorum hold you in place.

“Not everyone fears the flame,” you reply, your voice a delicate balance between defiance and diplomacy. “But not everyone is foolish enough to be consumed by it either.”

For a moment, Daemon’s expression softens, a flicker of admiration passing through his eyes. He’s always liked your spirit, the way you push back when others would cower. It’s one of the reasons he’s so drawn to you—you’re a challenge, not easily won. But that only makes him more determined.

He steps back slightly, giving you room to breathe, though his presence still lingers like smoke in the air. “We shall see, Niece,” he says, his tone softer now, but no less intense. “We shall see.”

The conversation shifts awkwardly back to safer topics as the courtiers nervously chatter to fill the silence, but the damage is done. The undercurrents of tension remain, swirling just beneath the surface, unseen by most but keenly felt by you.

You make your excuses and step away from the circle, moving toward the safety of the crowd. But you can feel Daemon’s eyes on you, tracking your every movement, a predator biding its time.

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the revelry, the laughter, the music. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake the feeling that tonight was only the beginning. Daemon has set his sights on you once more, and though you’ve pushed him away before, you know this time he’s more determined than ever.

The fire is closing in, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep it at bay.

The days in King’s Landing have grown longer, shadows stretching thin as the sun’s heat begins to wane with autumn’s approach. It has been weeks since the feast, since Daemon first rekindled his pursuit of you, and those weeks have been filled with nothing but frustration. You’ve become as elusive as a wisp of smoke, always slipping from his grasp just when he thinks he’s closed the distance.

He’s been searching for you throughout the Red Keep, stalking through the corridors like a restless lion. Servants avert their eyes when he passes, knowing better than to cross him when his temper is barely leashed. He checks the gardens where you sometimes take afternoon strolls, the library where you immerse yourself in history, even the secluded balcony where you once sat to watch the sun dip beneath the horizon. But you’re nowhere to be found.

His patience, already thin, frays with each passing moment. Where are you?

Eventually, he strides into the inner courtyard, his boots striking the cobblestones with purpose. He spots Rhaenyra, her golden hair spilling like liquid sunlight as she leans casually against a column. She’s watching a pair of knights spar in the yard, but when she catches sight of Daemon, she lifts a brow in amusement.

“Uncle,” she greets, her tone warm but laced with curiosity. “You seem troubled. Should I be concerned for my safety?”

Daemon barely slows his approach, his eyes narrowed and searching. “Where is she, Rhaenyra?”

Rhaenyra’s smirk widens, enjoying the tension radiating from him. She has always seen through him, understood the games he plays. But right now, her amusement only fuels his growing irritation.

“She?” she asks, feigning ignorance. “You’ll have to be more specific, Uncle. There are quite a few women within the Keep.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” he snaps, his voice a low growl. “You know who I mean. Where is Y/N?”

Rhaenyra’s amusement falters slightly as she studies him more closely. She sees the fire in his eyes, the barely contained storm that brews beneath his calm exterior. She knows Daemon well enough to recognize when he’s truly agitated.

“And why would you assume I’d know her whereabouts?” she asks, though her tone is more measured now, less teasing. “She doesn’t confide everything in me.”

Daemon steps closer, his frustration bleeding into impatience. “She’s your sister. You know where she’s gone. Stop wasting time and tell me.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickers with something unreadable before she sighs, realizing he won’t relent. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?” She shakes her head as if in disbelief, then lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but only because it’ll keep you from stalking around the Keep like a shadowed ghost.”

She pauses, savoring the way Daemon’s impatience makes him lean in closer. “She’s gone to ride Grey Ghost.”

Daemon’s reaction is instant. The blood drains from his face as his eyes sharpen, and without another word, he turns on his heel, already planning his next move. The mention of the dragon’s name—Grey Ghost, the elusive and wild creature—ignites something dangerous within him.

Rhaenyra watches with a slight frown, sensing his sudden intensity. “Daemon—wait. She knows what she’s doing; she’s always had a bond with that dragon—”

But he’s not listening. His mind is racing, the image of you alone on the back of such a wild, unpredictable creature flashing before his eyes. Grey Ghost is no docile mount like Syrax or Caraxes. The dragon is known for being elusive, rarely seen and even more rarely approached. For you to go after such a beast alone—Daemon feels a surge of possessive protectiveness he can’t tamp down.

He strides swiftly toward the stables, barking orders at the stablehands to ready his horse. The urgency in his tone leaves no room for argument. “Saddle it quickly!” he snaps, every muscle tense with the need to move, to reach the Dragonpit before it’s too late.

In the back of his mind, he knows he’s not only worried about your safety. This chase, this pursuit, has become something more to him—an obsession, a need to prove that you can’t slip away from him, not when he’s decided you’re his. And riding Grey Ghost? That’s an act of defiance, a clear signal that you’re not afraid to dance on the edge of danger.

He mounts his horse in one smooth motion and urges the animal into a gallop. The wind rushes past him as he rides through the streets of King’s Landing, his mind singularly focused on getting to the Dragonpit. He doesn’t care who watches or what whispers will follow in the wake of his urgency. Let them talk; let them wonder. All that matters is reaching you.

By the time he arrives at the Dragonpit, he’s barely winded, though his blood roars in his veins like wildfire. The keepers bow hastily as he storms past them, heading straight for the chamber where Caraxes, his own dragon, resides. The Blood Wyrm growls low as Daemon approaches, sensing the tension in his rider.

Daemon doesn’t waste a moment, clambering onto Caraxes’ back with practiced ease. The bond between dragon and rider is instinctual, and with a sharp command, Caraxes unfurls his wings and takes to the skies with a powerful beat. They soar upward, climbing higher into the heavens as Daemon scans the horizon, searching for the faint silhouette of a dragon in flight.

He knows the general area where Grey Ghost roams—often among the mist-shrouded cliffs near the coast, far from the reach of men. If you’ve truly gone there alone, then you’ve either misjudged your own courage or you’re challenging him in your own quiet, stubborn way.

Either way, he intends to catch you.

The thrill of the chase pulses through him, his heart racing as Caraxes cuts through the clouds, flying faster and faster toward where he hopes to find you. There’s a primal satisfaction in the pursuit, the idea of tracking you down, claiming what he believes should be his. He imagines what you’ll say when he catches you, what you’ll do—if you’ll continue to resist, or if you’ll finally realize there’s no escaping the inevitable.

As they fly over the rugged cliffs, he finally spots a shadow moving below—grey scales glinting in the fading light. There you are, astride Grey Ghost, your figure small but unmistakable. The sight sends a surge of possessive relief through him. You’re safe, unharmed, but you’ve ventured too far for his liking.

He urges Caraxes lower, drawing closer until the two dragons are flying side by side, their wings slicing through the air in tandem. The sound of Caraxes’ approach makes you turn, your eyes widening as you realize who’s followed you. Even from a distance, Daemon can see the defiance in your gaze, the way you straighten your back and tighten your grip on the reins.

You’re not pleased to see him. But that’s too bad.

Daemon grins, his eyes flashing with determination as he closes the distance, ready to confront you, to remind you that running—or flying—won’t keep him at bay. He’s always known where to find you, and now that he’s caught up, he has no intention of letting you slip away again.

The chase may be thrilling, but Daemon Targaryen has never been content to chase forever. At some point, even the most elusive prey must be caught. And when he finally corners you in the sky, he’ll make sure you know exactly what it means to be his.

[aemondsbabe]

Hour of the Owl

summary: there's only one thing you want for your nameday and your sweet husband is more than happy to let you have it

pairing: dom!harwin strong x sub!reader x switch!daemon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors go away!), afab reader, reader is described as having some targaryen features (white hair, lilac eyes) but no other physical descriptors are mentioned, threesome, oral sex (f & m receiving), handjobs, piv sex, brief spitting, cum play, brief breeding kink, choking, spanking, daemon ignoring the rules, fingering, breast/nipple play, hair pulling, facesitting, very brief mention of miscarriage (world building only, does not directly affect the reader), praise kink, degradation, aftercare included, some fluff, "good cop/bad cop" trope, hair pulling, creampie, bi!daemon and harwin (they're at least experimenting asdfgh), daemon whimpering!!! i repeat, daemon whimpering!!!

word count: 11.8k (genuinely HOW)

a/n: this is dirty, y'all, i won't lie. this is filthy, filthy stuff. there's literally about 7.2k words of just pure smut here. gird your loins, this one is a wild ride. godspeed.

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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A soft breeze blows through the sheer curtains of your chambers, filling the room with the scent of the sweet smelling flowers your older sister had planted in the gardens of the Red Keep a few moons prior. You busy yourself with removing the countless delicate golden pins your ladies had stuck in your hair that morning, silvery hair pooling around your shoulders as you undo braid after braid. Finally, you run your fingers through the last one, lost in thought as you walk out onto your balcony, your feet bare against the cool stone floors. 

You sigh as you lean against a stone ledge, looking out over the many fires and torches that light Kings Landing each night, spread out below the Red Keep like a field of stars. You say a quick prayer to the Mother as you gaze at the moon, praying for your sister’s safety during her pregnancy; praying that this one would carry to term and that the Seven would bless your sweet niece Rhaenyra with a little brother or sister. 

You smile as you hear the heavy wooden door to your chamber opening, practically skipping to the door as Harwin slips inside, already unbuckling his leather armor.

“My love!” You call happily, giggling at the exaggerated groan he makes as you thud into him, practically attacking him as you wrap your arms around him, “I missed you!” You whine playfully, breathing in his scent as you bury your face in his chest, your cheek pressed against the tunic he wears. 

“I missed you too,” he laughs, his hands hooking under the backs of your thighs as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his middle. He walks you over to your large bed and gently sits you down on the plush fabric, “My sweet little wife,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead before turning around and striding over to the mirror leaning against the wall next to your wardrobe. “What meanness did you busy yourself with today, I wonder?” He questions, smiling adoringly at you over his shoulder. 

“No meanness,” you smile, eyes scanning his muscular body as you watch him unbuckle and untie his leathers and tunic; you bite your lip when he finally pulls the tunic over his head, eyes scanning his bare back, lightly tanned with various scars and bruises from his training. You feel a heat building in your belly at the sight of him, which only grows stronger when he turns to face you once more, your eyes roaming over his strong chest and stomach, covered in dark hair that disappears beneath the tops of his trousers. “I simply assisted Aemma in choosing decorations for the princess’s upcoming nameday celebrations,” you start, standing from the bed and making your way over to Harwin, watching for a second as he struggles with the knot at the top of his trousers before you finally push his hands away and begin pulling at the strings yourself, “Then I aided her in welcoming some new maids, worked more on my needlepoint, and responded to the letter from our mother.” You shrug, finally pulling the ties free before returning to the bed. 

“A busy day indeed,” he smirks, running a hand through his curly hair as he stalks toward you, “Mine was much the same; we started training the new recruits today.” 

“My poor husband,” you pout, sitting on your knees at the edge of the bed, “Working so hard.” You coo, aching between your thighs as Harwin places his hands on your waist, feeling his warmth through the thin, nearly translucent Myrish lace of your nightgown. You press a soft kiss to the middle of his chest, the hairs there tickling your lips, before you bring your hands up to his shoulders and begin kneading the skin there, massaging around his neck and shoulders. 

He groans appreciatively, letting his eyes slip closed and his head tilt back as he allows himself to savor the feeling for a moment; your sweet hands, so small and delicate compared to his, still send shivers down his spine. He can’t help but think of the first day he saw you – you had looked so ethereal stepping out of your family’s carriage in the courtyard, draped in a fine silk dress in the sky blue color of House Arryn’s coat of arms. You had arrived the day Princess Rhaenyra was born and had made King’s Landing your home ever since.

He had been fond of you from that moment forward, offering to give you tours of the Keep and personally escorting you anytime you ventured from its walls. He had known you for nearly eight years and in all that time, he had yet to find a single fault with you. Were it up to him alone, the two of you would have been married within a week, although you had always joked with him that those were the exact sorts of thoughts you’d expect from the foolhardy teenage boy he was at the time. Eventually, your families finally came to a marriage agreement, Lord Rodrik Arryn pleased with the promise of you one day inheriting Harrenhal with Hawin. He smiles, thinking back to your wedding day, in disbelief that it was nearly a year ago now. 

Finally, he opens his eyes once more, finding your mesmerizing lilac ones already gazing back at him. “You are so handsome,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his hair as you lovingly smile at him, “The most beautiful man in all the kingdoms.”

He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his arms holding you tightly to him, wanting to feel as much of you pressed up against him as possible. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet smells of the oils you use in your baths, “And you are positively divine, my sweet love,” he murmurs, pulling back to gaze at you once more as he twirls a silvery strand of hair between his fingers, “The Seven have truly blessed me with the most heavenly of creatures.” 

You blush, lying back on the bed as he kicks off his trousers, his entire form finally bare to you. Your eyes roam his tanned skin appreciatively as you lean back against your pillows, fingers fiddling with a tie at the front of your dressing gown. 

“Would you do me the honor of joining me in the bath, my lady?” he asks, reaching out a hand to help you up from the bed. 

“Oh, I would be honored, my handsome knight,” you joke back, kissing his cheek before the two of you make your way over to the bath, separated from the rest of your chambers with a decorated screen you’d gotten from a trip to Dorne many years ago.

You quickly undress, draping your gown over the screen, as Harwin steps into the bath with a hiss, “Seven Hells!” He curses, wincing as his skin adjusts to the water, “Did you have your maids retrieve this water from the belly of the Dragonmont itself?” 

You snicker, gently easing yourself into the water at the opposite end of the tub, “After all this time one would think you would know how I take my baths, husband.”

He simply rolls his eyes, finally lowering himself into the rest of the water with a pained groan, much to your amusement, which earns you a splash. The two of you laugh together for a moment and you tell him all about the various decorations you’d chosen for Rhaenyra’s nameday as the two of you quickly wash. Finally, he beckons you over, resting his arms on the rim of the bath as you settle yourself against him, curling into the side of his long, burly body as you lay your head on his chest, creating swirly patterns in the hair on his chest with the point of your finger as you finish describing the decadent flavors you and Aemma had chosen for the cake. 

“Speaking of namedays,” he begins, chuckling as he hears you groan, “A certain someone’s nameday is a mere two days away and she has yet to tell me anything she wishes for.”

“I’ve told you,” you start with a sigh, peering up at him, “How am I meant to wish for anything when you spoil me so?”

“I do not spoil you!” He admonishes, a guilty smile tugging at his lips, “I simply give you all that you deserve for being such a sweet little wife.” he teases, punctuating each word of the pet name with a kiss to your forehead and cheeks, making you giggle – his favorite sound in the world. You lay in a comfortable silence for a moment, still tracing various shapes and patterns onto his chest before he speaks again, his voice soft and questioning, “There must be something you long for, my love. Anything you want, simply name it.” 

You stay silent for a minute longer, pondering exactly how to voice your thoughts. There was something you wanted, or rather someone — Daemon, the king’s younger brother. Like Harwin, he had caught your eye quickly when you’d first arrived at King's Landing. According to Aemma, Viserys had even been considering betrothing the two of you for a time; though your sister had put a quick stop to that, she had never been the Rogue Prince’s biggest fan. 

Yet, still, there was something about him that simply drew you to him, something intriguing in the way he moved, the way he spoke. You loved your husband, more than anything else, but Daemon was…tempting, you couldn’t lie. 

You look up at Harwin, still silent as you stare into his soft brown eyes, before looking away again, unsure of how to even broach the topic. 

As per usual, though, your ever-observant husband was one step ahead of you. His toned arms wrap around you and pull you up, until you’re sitting in his lap, your legs on either side of his muscular thighs as you straddle him, balancing yourself by holding onto the rim of the tub as his hands remain on your waist, “It is the prince, is it not?” He asks slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving your own.

“Husband,” you start, worried he is upset with you, “You must unde–”

“I understand, my little love,” he soothes, pulling you closer to him, relishing the way your breasts press against the firmness of his chest, “You need not explain it to me,” you rest your head on his warm chest, your face buried in his neck, “Lust for him does not do away with your love for me, I know this.” He confirms, gently carding a hand through your hair.

Even with his reassurance, you remain silent for a moment still; this is new territory in your relationship – never before had you seriously considered the possibility of sharing yourself with another, your husband so adoring and protective of you that you never dreamed he would entertain the thought.

“You…wish to share me in this way? Truly?” You question, heart skipping a beat when you feel his cock beginning to harden between your legs.

“I admit I was wholly against the idea at first,” he starts, his calloused hands slowly running up and down your thighs, half-submerged in the warm water, “I am still not thrilled that the object of your desire is Prince Daemon,” he laughs, teasing you, “Of all the knights in all the seven kingdoms, you pick him.” He jokes, his chest vibrating underneath you as he laughs.

“Harwin!” You gasp to hide your own laughter, though you know the cheeky smile tugging at your lips gives you away, “Please, be serious!” You reprimand, playfully slapping at his chest.

“I yield, I yield,” he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. Eventually, the two of you settle down once more, a quiet calmness descending over you, “But I see the way you look at him,” he smiles, indicating that he isn’t upset when he sees worry cloud your soft features once again, “Very different from the way you look at me…only lust. And I see the way he looks at you,” your head shoots up at this, a soft blush creeping over your cheeks at this knowledge, “Lust, yes, but also a certain softness,” his hands come to rest on your hips once more, gently rocking your slick heat against his length, “Like you are something sacred to behold.”

He finishes finally, taking pleasure in the way you shudder against him, small whimpers and whines escaping your lips as your bud is dragged up and down his cock, his hands gripping your waist so tightly there are sure to be bruises in the morning.

“Husband,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut as you mewl into his neck, the lavender scent of your bath oils filling your lungs, “Oh, Gods!” You moan, your aching bud catching on the head of his cock.

“He should look at you in that way,” Harwin grunts, thighs bending under the curve of your rear as his knees come up out of the bathwater, giving him more leverage to rut against you, “Like you are, fuck, like you are something divine.” He groans into the hair at the crown of your head, big hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs swirling against your sensitive nipples, “You are, my love,” his words come out in breathless, broken gasps, “Divine, sacred, a gift sent straight from the Seven.”

You nod wordlessly, whines and moans getting caught in your throat as your hands roam over the firm planes of his chest, lips busying themselves against the column of his throat. No further words are needed between the two of you, a common understanding being enough for now as your bodies press closer together, nearly melding into one beneath the warm, sweetly scented water. 

Golden morning light shines in through the sheer curtains of your chambers as you busy yourself with dressing for the day, your maids flitting around you as they button, tie, and lace you into your dress. 

Harwin had left much earlier than you, already strapped into his leathers before the sun rose above the horizon. Just like every other morning, he had gently kissed you awake to let you know he was leaving, telling you he promised to be safe when training and that he would see you at supper. Unlike every other morning, however, he had added, “I imagine I shall see Prince Daemon in the training yard today,” he had softly cooed, a warm hand tenderly caressing your cheek, “If I do, I shall speak with him about our…offer. See what he says.” 

At the time, you had simply mumbled sleepily, head too clouded with sleep to truly process his words. Now, though, you could not keep from wringing your hands with worry, fidgeting uneasily as your hair was pinned up, half your hair braided and wrapped up into a bun at the crown of your head, the rest left to cascade down your shoulders like a pearly waterfall. 

Your maids finally finished, leaving you in your chambers with your still steaming breakfast, which you could only bring yourself to pick at, the nervous knots in your stomach keeping your appetite at bay. 

What if he thinks me perverse? You worry, staring out at the morning sky, watching as puffy clouds blow in from the winds of Blackwater Bay. You know this is nonsensical — if even half the rumors of Daemon’s various appetites were true, he had no justification to call you of all people perverse. What if he tells everyone? You wonder, halfheartedly sipping at your tea, but even this you know was absurd. He was brash, incredibly rude at times, but the prince knew when to be discreet, and if he truly gazed at you in the way your husband claimed, you had no doubt he would keep your secret. 

After exhausting your list of worries, you finally stand up from your small breakfast table, intending to find Aemma and ask for her to accompany you on a walk through the gardens. 

You make your way into the hallway, winding your way through the various passages of the Red Keep in your search for your sister, saying polite thank you's to anyone wishing you a happy early nameday.

“Auntie!” You hear a small voice call behind you as you step out into the Godswood, the stoic face of the weirwood tree there peering at you from under its canopy of red leaves. You turn on your heel, smiling brightly when you see Rhaenyra running at you at full tilt.

You scoop her up at the last second, grunting a small “Oof!” as she barrels into your arms, “If it isn’t my favorite little niece!” You chirp brightly, her small arms hugging around your neck, “What wickedness are you up to?”

“Training!” She answers, excitedly squirming in your grasp, perched atop one of your hips.

“Training?” You question with exaggerated interest, “Whatever for?”

“To ride Syrax!” She giggles, “She’s getting big and the keepers say she is almost ready!”

“How exciting,” you nod, setting her down before crouching before her, “She is growing quickly indeed,” you add, motioning for her to turn around before you begin braiding her hair, the same pale shade as your own, “Are the keeper’s training you as well?” 

“Konir sagon ñuha gaomilaksir,” a deep, smooth voice answers from behind you. You gasp, whipping your head around just in time to see Daemon step into the courtyard, dressed in his familiar dark metal armor, Dark Sister hanging from his belt, “Ñuha riña.” He nods simply. (That would be my job.) (My lady.)

“Ñuha dārilaros,” you nod in return, quickly finishing Rhaenyra’s braid before standing and turning to face him, “I trust the morning has found you in good spirits.” (My prince.)

“Oh, it has indeed,” he says, eyes flashing with mirth as he smirks at you, his head cocking to the side, stands of pale hair contrasting against the dark metal covering his chest, “Eman ryptan mirri udir, ñuha riña.” He drawls. (I have heard some news, my lady.)

This catches Rhaenyra’s attention, her Valyrian lessons clearly paying off as she gasps excitedly as she bounces between the two of you, “What news? What news?” 

“Nothing to worry your pretty head about,” Daemon chides, shaking his head with a small smile, “Just some news from the council, nothing that would be of interest to you,” he continues quickly, waving his hand dismissively before nodding his head to the old stone archway that leads back inside the Keep, “I need to speak with your aunt quickly, run along to the dragonpit. I’m sure Syrax would appreciate a treat before we begin training.” 

Rhaenyra nods happily, twirling a small yellow flower around in her hands as she practically skips from the courtyard, singing, “A treat for Syrax, a treat for Syrax!” as she disappears down the hall.

“Ao jorrāelatan naejot ȳdragon lēda nyke?” You question once Daemon returns his attention to you, politely clasping your hands together. (You needed to speak with me?)

“Ser Harwin approached me earlier this morning in the yard,” he starts, eyes sweeping over your body like a predator eyeing its prey, “Vēttan nyke iā jiōragon.” He smirks, watching you blush under his gaze. (He made me an offer.)

“Gōntan ziry?” (He did?)

“Konir sagon paktot,” he continues, voice nearly patronizing as he slowly paces around you, circling you like a shark in the water, “He says you want me to fuck you.” He finishes, coming to stand before you once more, a proud smile on his face once he sees the shock on yours. (That’s right.)

“Iksis bisa drēje?” He asks once it becomes clear you don’t know how to respond. (Is this true?)

“Kessa.” You say simply, inwardly wincing at the wobble in your voice, though you try your hardest to appear confident. (Yes.)

Daemon snickers, “Naughty, naughty girl,” he tsks, shaking his head teasingly, one hand casually perched on the hilt of his sword, “He tells me I’m meant to be your nameday present; quite the honor, I must say.” 

“Mērī lo ao agree naejot se jiōragon, ñuha dārilaros.” (Only if you agree to the offer, my prince.)

“Consider this my agreement,” he says proudly, gaze straying to the neckline of your gown, “I’ve been asked to arrive at your chambers at the hour of the owl,” his lilac eyes meet yours once again, “Is this acceptable, naughty girl?”

You flush deeply at his nickname, only used to sweet praises from Harwin, “That is most acceptable, my prince.” You nod.

“There’s no need to be so formal,” he chides, reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “Certainly not with the way we’ll be so intimately acquainted later this evening,” he steps back again, still smirking, “You may call me Daemon…or sir.” He adds, noting the way it makes you squirm. 

“Very well…Daemon.” You tease, feeling proud when you see his eyes widen just the slightest bit. 

“Perhaps this sweet little kitten has claws after all,” he smirks, eyes looking you up and down once more, “Very well,” he says with a nod, “I’m needed at the dragonpit, but I shall be seeing you and your husband later this evening.”

“Hen rhinka.” You nod as you watch him leave, your entire body relaxing, releasing unrealized tension, as soon as his back disappears from view. You allow yourself to breathe for a few moments, standing in the silent courtyard as your heartbeat returns to normal, before you leave, once again going to try and find Aemma, or really anything else to keep yourself occupied until the evening. (Of course.)

“I promise, sweet girl,” Harwin says, watching from the small sitting area in your chambers as you pace back and forth across the stone floor, “I told him all he would need to know. About you, about what you like, all of it.”

You nod, half listening, as you walk back and forth, feet bare on the large, plush fur rugs that cover the floor in front of the fireplace. The warmth of it on your skin was usually a welcome feeling, although tonight you only felt overheated. Outside, the sky was dark, the sun having set quite a while ago. King’s Landing once again sprawled out like a sea of stars beneath the Keep, mirroring the stars in the black sky overhead, the bright light of the moon reflecting off of the waters of the bay – the hour of the owl was drawing close. 

“We do not have to do this if you’re having second thoughts, my love,” he says, standing and striding over to you, “If you wish, I will simply tell Daemon to fuck off.” He jokes, chuckling as you relax in his arms.

“I do want to!” You sigh, tilting your chin up to peer up at him through your lashes, “I’m simply nervous, I suppose. We’ve never done anything like this before,” you bite your lip, looking away from him as you resume speaking, “Honestly, I’m still shocked you agreed to it at all.”

“I want to share you,” he shrugs, pressing a comforting kiss to the top of your head, “Show off what’s mine.” He says lowly, chuckling when he feels you shiver against him – he knows very well that his possessiveness gets to you.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on the thick wooden door of your chambers, making you jump, which makes Harwin chuckle as he stands to open it; he had dismissed the guard that normally stood at your door in the evening, insisting that he take the night off. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you merely stand in front of the fire, nervously fidgeting. 

Your husband gives you one last look, his eyes questioning; you nod to him, signaling that it was okay, that this was truly what you wanted, and he opened the door. 

“Ser Harwin,” Daemon drawls, looking your husband up and down as he strides into the room, cocky as usual. Finally, his eyes land on you and you can’t help the small fizzle that takes hold in your belly at the way he stops suddenly in his tracks, his eyes glazing over as he looks you over, “My lady,” he says softly, nodding at you as he stalks closer to where you stand, feet still planted firmly in the carpet, “Ȳdra daor ao jurnegon gevie.” (Don’t you look beautiful.)

“He says I am beautiful,” you tell your husband, translating the Valyrian for him, an act that is second nature for you now. “Kirimvose.” you say, trying your hardest to keep your voice from trembling. (Thank you.)

Daemon comes to stand in front of you, his eyes searching yours for a second, looking for any hesitation you suppose. When he finds none, he hooks a finger into the delicate ribbon tied around your waist, the one keeping your silk dressing gown shut; again, he catches your eyes, and again you suppose he must find what he’s searching for because suddenly he’s pulling the bow there undone. 

“She looks ravishing all the time,” your husband said, his breath fanning over the back of your neck as he seems to materialize behind you, rough hands skirting up your arms before coming to rest at your shoulders, “The most beautiful creature.”

“A beautiful creature,” Daemon agrees, his hands, not as rough as Harwin’s though still battle-worn, settling on your hips as he looks at your body appreciatively, his light eyes growing darker by the minute, “And a naughty thing.” He finishes, smirking when he hears a small, barely there whimper escape your lips. 

“Is she?” your husband asks, gathering all your hair over one shoulder, exposing one side of your neck before he kisses you there, relishing the sigh he gets in return. You gasp as one of his hands comes up to cup your breast, warming your skin through the thin lace of your nightgown, “She’s such a good, obedient girl.”

You lean back into Harwin, your back against his firm chest as he kneads your breast, sending sparks flying down between your thighs. “Only bad little things fantasize about being taken by two men.” Daemon practically growls. Your eyes are only half open but you still don’t miss the look he gives your husband over your shoulder, nor do you miss the way the brunette subtly nods against the column of your neck. You moan when Daemon’s lips finally press against your own, his mouth soft and warm, tongue already licking into your mouth. 

The motion presses you further back against Harwin, pressing his half-hard cock into the small of your back, the feeling making you near dizzy with lust as you realize that he truly wanted this just as much as you. Daemon’s tongue eventually wins its battle for dominance and the two of you kiss for a moment longer, the only sounds in your chambers being being yours and the prince’s lips moving together as your husband kisses, licks, and bites along your neck, causing you to mewl softly into Daemon’s waiting mouth like a puppy. 

“Are you a bad girl, sweet little thing?” The prince growls against your jaw as he finally separates his lips from yours, trailing kisses down the opposite side of your neck. 

When you neglect to answer, too caught up in the men’s attention, Harwin suddenly palms at the plump flesh of your rear, roughly grabbing and squeezing it enough to have you whining, “I believe Daemon asked you a question, my love,” he chucked, his other hand pulling down the neckline of your nightgown, nearly ripping the delicate lace, to reveal your breast, “It would be rude not to answer.”

“Gods!” You moan, sucking in a breath when you feel the blond’s lips wrap around your exposed nipple, his teeth teasing at the sensitive, peaked skin, “I-I’m a good girl!” You gasp, your fingers carding through silky hair, the same silvery shade as your own, “Harwin says I-“ You start, only to be brutally cut off as one of Daemon’s large hands wraps around your throat. 

“Harwin may claim what he wishes,” he sneers, nose touching yours as he speaks, “But to me, you’re nothing but a lovely whore.” 

You gasp, having never been called such a thing before. A part of you knows you should be offended, yet you can’t help the way your thighs squeeze together at his harsh treatment, knees nearly buckling beneath you. 

Your husband tenses behind you, his kisses freezing on your neck before he lifts his head. Narrowing his eyes at Daemon over your shoulder, he grabs his forearm and pushes his hand off of you, “You are not to speak to her in that manner,” he growls, jaw squared, “Nor handle her so harshly. We discussed this earlier.” 

“Oh, hush,” the prince dismisses, prying his hand from Harwin’s grasp with a tsk, “She’s enjoying it, naughty little thing.” He nods his chin at you, noting the blush on your cheeks and the way your chest is heaving. 

Harwin’s eyes shift to yours, his hand tilting your chin up as he peers at you. Before he can speak, though, the large bells at the top of the Keep begin to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Finally, the hour of the owl had arrived, and with it your true nameday. 

“Well, well,” Daemon drawls, abandoning you and Harwin to perch at the edge of your bed, helping himself go to the pitcher of wine sitting at your bedside, “You know, the girls in Flea Bottom have quite the… interesting nameday tradition.” He smirks, studying you and Harwin with amusement as he takes a sip of wine. 

“What is it?” You ask, pulling your husband behind you as you approach the bed, accepting a glass of wine from Daemon. Beside you, Harwin shakes his head, glaring at the other man.

“We talked about this. I told you that I would be taking the lead–”

“You told me, yes,” Daemon interrupts, giving your husband a pointed look before shifting his gaze back to you, “However, it is her nameday. I believe she should get to decide.”

“Decide what?” You inquire, looking between the two men.

“Who will be giving you your birthday spanks, naughty girl.” The blond smirks, gazing at you appreciatively, “One for each year you’ve graced the realm with your presence.”

You looked back and forth between the two men again, Daemon looking at you as if you were a piece of prey, a prize to be won, and Harwin looking at you concerned, as if you were a precious treasure in need of protection. You deliberate for what feels like a long while in your mind – on one hand, Daemon was new and exciting, but you also knew of his unpredictable nature; on the other hand, Harwin was comfortable and safe to you, but wasn’t the entire point of this endeavor to branch out?

“Can…” you begin hesitantly, looking back and forth between the two men, “Can both of you do it?”

“I think that can be arranged, my sweet girl,” your husband says huskily, excited at the promise of exploring this particular act with you once more, “Why don’t you be a good little girl and kneel on the bed for us, hm? On all fours, as you normally do.”

At that remark, Daemon looks at you with great interest, making your cheeks heat up as Harwin helps you remove your robe, draping it over a nearby chair. He turns around quickly when he hears you gasp, only to see the prince laving his tongue over your nipple again, mouthing at it through the paper thin lace of your nightgown, as one of his hands busies itself with your other breast, palming at it desperately; his other hand visible through the thin material of your gown as his fingers tease at your center, brushing through the slick folds with practiced ease. 

He can’t help but admire you for a short moment, cock hardening at the soft blush that settles across your cheeks, the way your chest heaves as you gasp with pleasure, tits bouncing as you writhe against the other man’s hand. Finally, he comes out of his reverie and strides to where you and Daemon stand, taking his place on the other side of your body. 

He begins toying with you once more, guiding your mouth to his while his hands roam over your curves before one finally settles on your breast, the one unoccupied by Daemon’s tongue. His tongue battles with yours as his palm gently squeezes your breast, fingers teasingly pinching at your nipple, causing him to groan in satisfaction once you start mewling in the way he loves. His other hand joins the prince’s at your core, two of this thick fingers teasing at your opening, “Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth, “So wet, my love.” His fingers slide into you with a practiced ease, knowing exactly what you like after having spent nearly a year taking you apart on a practically daily basis. 

They crook up perfectly, rubbing against that spot within you with the perfect pressure and accuracy. If there was one thing Harwin was determined to perfect from the moment you were officially declared his in the eyes of gods and men, it was bringing you pleasure in greater amounts than you’d ever thought possible. He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that spread across his bearded face as the sounds of your whimpers and whines grew more and more desperate, telling him once more that he was successful in his mission. 

Just as your husband's fingers speed up within you, Daemon traces tighter and tighter circles around your eager bud, his mouth growing more insistent on your breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth, sucking it harshly into the warmth of his mouth. 

“Getting close, naughty thing?” the blond asks teasingly, lilac eyes peering up at yours as he continued stimulating you. 

You nod frantically, whining as Harwin begins tracing his lips down your jaw, right to that spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. “Let go, princess,” he husks, the tips of his fingers zeroing in on that small rough patch within you, “Give us your pleasure.”

You can’t help the noise that leaves you, a loud, desperate, whining moan that would leave you horribly embarrassed at any other time, but right now you don’t have the ability to care. The ministrations from the two men, along with the utterance of the one pet name Harwin only dared utter in private, send you tumbling over the edge. You feel your knees buckle, although you aren’t worried about falling, too dumb with pleasure to think but still reassured that two pairs of strong arms will surely hold you steady. 

Fireworks explode behind your eyelids as you feel your center contract around your husbands fingers; the two men groan when they hear the slick sounds pouring out from between your thighs multiply nearly tenfold as your peak takes you, soaking Harwin’s fingers and wetting Daemon’s hand. 

“What a naughty, dirty girl,” the prince teases, fingers only leaving your bud once your legs had started to twitch from the overstimulation, “Peaking over the fingers of two men,” you whimper as your husband carefully removes his fingers from you, face flushing when he immediately takes them into his mouth, licking off the evidence of your arousal, “No better than a common Flea Bottom whore.”

Again, Daemon’s words send a shiver up your spine, the knot that had just come unraveled in your stomach tightening once more. “She is a good girl,” Harwin corrects him, hands lovingly stroking over your body, “For peaking exactly when I commanded her to. Such a good, obedient girl.”

Your head spins at their words, head swimming as one man degrades you, clearly gaining pleasure from the way his teases and rude remarks affect you, while the other praises you so lovingly, proud at way his tender words affect you so after months of perfecting them, learning exactly which phrases drive you to madness and fully exploiting them. 

“Are you ready for your sweet spanks, my good girl?” Harwin asks, brown eyes shining with love.

You nod breathlessly, still leaning on both men for support. Beside you Daemon chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Ask for it properly, naughty girl.”

“Ask us, sweetling.” Harwin nods encouragingly. 

“Please…” you start softly, finally finding your voice, “Please, husband, sir, please may I have my nameday spankings?”

Daemon growls lowly in his chest, satisfied at you finally learning your place and addressing him the way he feels he deserves, “Get on the bed.” He commands easily, leaving no room for backtalk or questioning.

Blessedly, your sweet husband still sees fit to help you arrange yourself on the edge of the bed, taking your shaky legs into account as he helps you move. You’re indeed kneeling on all fours, your legs tucked up under you as your feet dangle off the bed, your ass in the air, though still covered by the lace of your gown.

You feel the air shift behind you as they move, both standing behind you still but Harwin to the left and Daemon to the right. The one of Daemon’s hands strokes down your back, you can feel him leaning over you as he trails his hand down from the very top of your shoulder blades all the way down to the small of your back, right where the curve of your ass starts; you can hear him hum appreciatively. His other hand drags up the back of one of your thighs and slowly, he slips his fingers under the hem of your gown. He pulls it up over your ass, letting the soft, silky fabric pool in the dip of your spine; your walls clench around nothing when you hear both men groan behind you.

“Gods,” Harwin breathes, rough fingers lightly tracing over your skin, “You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

“Pretty little cunt,” Daemon quips, smirking when he hears you whimper as he spreads your cheeks apart, hands gripping you hard enough that there are sure to be fingerprint sized bruises, “Wetter than the Narrow Sea.” He remarks, chuckling as he runs a thumb over the slit of your heat, marveling at the way your slick remains connected to his thumb by a thin thread for a second as he pulls his hands away. 

“Ready, princess?” Harwin murmurs behind you, hands soothing where Daemon had grabbed you.

“Please!” You nod, hands gripping the furs spread across the bed. 

Suddenly, a hand comes down on the left side of your ass, harsh but not overly painful; you whimper at the impact, walls clenching from the pleasant sting left behind. Harwin. You were sure of it – the two of you had only experimented in this way a scant few times but enough that you knew the feel of his blows. 

Again, a hand comes down, this time making you jerk as a palm strikes the right globe of your rear. A sharp cry leaves your lips, back bowing for a second before the same hand is pressing harshly at the small of your back, “Keep that back arched, naughty little thing.” Daemon hums. 

Harwin gives you a moment to breathe, a gesture you appreciate very much, before striking you once again. Again, you mewl as you feel the welcome heat spread across your skin. You turn your head, burying your face into the soft furs beneath you, only to practically inhale the wolf pelt there as Daemon brings his hand down again, making you gasp. Another cry leaves your lips, louder and harsher than the last as tears pool in the corner of your eyes, some already leaking onto the coat. The right side of your ass practically feels as if it’s on fire, the sting so harsh it makes your ears ring. 

“That’s two,” Daemon taunts, smiling wickedly as he sees an outline of his handprint already blooming on your ass, “So many more left to go.”

Harwin leans over you, brushing the hair from your face, brows furrowing with concern when he sees your tears, “Are you alright, my love?” He asks, smoothing a hand down your back, “Do you wish to stop? We don’t have to continue.” He reassures you, smiling lovingly.

You shake your head, determined to see it through – determined to impress Daemon, really. “N-no,” you say tearfully, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, “I want to, please.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Daemon cuts in, gripping your cheeks harshly once again as he spreads them, tugging them somehow further apart than before as he clicks his tongue, pleased, “You love this,” his hand wetly smacks against your slit, making you whine as Harwin further soothes you, glaring daggers at the prince, “Little cunt’s soaking the bed.”

Your husband knocks his hands away, the ferocity of it making you gasp and peer over your shoulder, “We’ve discussed this,” the brunette hisses through his teeth, knuckles white as he grips Daemon’s wrist, “You will not handle her in such a manner, we agreed on this.”

“Oh, please,” the prince huffs, rolling his lilac eyes as he jerks his arm from Harwin’s grip, “She’s enjoying it, see?” You don’t have any time to react before his palm is once again smacking against your flesh, harder than the previous two hits combined. Your vision swirls, eyes stinging as tears blur your sight, a scream ripping its way from your throat as his hit shoves you further up the bed. You feel as if your entire lower half is radiating with pain, ears ringing once again.

There’s some commotion behind you, though it takes you a few seconds to get your whits about you enough to turn over, grimacing as the tender skin of your rear brushes against the pelts, ones that normally feel so soft now digging into your skin like dozens of little thorns. When you do finally clear your eyes, rubbing the tears away, your mouth practically falls open at the sight before you.

Harwin has Daemon pushed against the wall next to the bed, one of his forearms pinned down across his chest to hold him back; Daemon looks enraged, his teeth bared as he stares down your husband, “Unhand me, Strong.” He growls. 

Harwin presses him down harder, chest heaving with anger, “You dare harm her,” he mutters, his other fist clenched at his side, “We trusted you for this and you harm her!” 

“She fucking liked it!” Daemon retorts, struggling against your husbands strength — although strong in his own right, he had nothing on Harwin, “Go look at her fucking cunt, it’s soaked! She loves being hit!” He positively seethes, nodding his head toward you. 

The brunette sneers, lip curling up in disgust as the other man continues to squirm in his grasp. You watch, worried, as the hand not pinning the prince to the wall shoots up and roughly grips Daemon by his throat, forcing his head back. 

Daemon whimpers.

The world seems to stop in a single breath, the three of you staying quiet and still. Your eyes are wide, not believing the small sound you heard, but there was no mistaking it. Harwin seems just as shocked as you, taking a half step back from Daemon as soon as he hears the noise.

He’s quiet for a second more before a teasing, nearly sinister smile slowly spreads across his face, “She likes being spanked, you say,” he starts, putting more pressure on Daemon’s throat, “And you, your grace, like being choked, don’t you? Nothing more than a common Flea Bottom whore, right?”

You’ve never heard your husband use that tone before, so deep and threatening, it makes your thighs clench, a soft breath escaping your lips. 

The small sound seems to remind both Harwin and Daemon that you’re still there and their heads whip toward you. They remain silent for a moment but then your husband smiles, looking between you and the prince with a mischievous smirk. 

Harwin leads Daemon over to where you sit on the bed until both men are standing in front of you once again, the blond in the front with the brunette behind him, one hand holding his arms behind his back while the other remains wrapped around his neck. There is still a fire in Daemon’s eyes, though it’s merely a simmer now instead of a blazing inferno; you can’t help but be reminded of a tamed animal, of the dragons in the dragonpit — so much wildness choosing to be contained. 

“I think you need to apologize,” Harwin starts, pushing Daemon forward until his legs hit the side of the bed, the two of them towering over you, “For hurting our lady, hm?”

Your breath catches at his choice of words, our lady. You watch as Daemon nods, his eyes half closed, glazed over by some kind of fog, his breathing slow and calm, as if he’s in a trance. 

“Come now,” Harwin shoves him a little, just enough to make him jump, “Answer properly.” 

“Yes….” Daemon whispers, hardly able to get words out around the grip Harwin has on his throat. 

“Yes what?” Your husband asks slowly, words spoken through clenched teeth, his lips right next to the prince’s ear. 

Daemon sighs, his shoulders sagging as any fight that remained in him seemed to vanish, “Yes, ser.” 

“See?” Harwin teases, patronizingly tapping him on the cheek, “You can be good.” You see Daemon shiver at that. 

Leaving Daemon to stand at the side of the bed, your husband bends down and kisses you softly, “You still desire this?”

You nod, looking deeply into his eyes as one of your hands cards through his curly hair, “Yes husband,” you whisper, “More than anything.” 

“Stand.” Harwin commands simply, and you obey, coming to stand beside Daemon. “You,” your husband snaps, motioning at the man standing next to you, “Strip and lie down.” 

Daemon does as he says, with no fuss for once. You can’t help but admire the way he moves as he removes his tunic and pants, his movements still so fluid and graceful despite the haze he seems to be in. After a moment, his clothes lie in a pile on the floor as he takes his place on your bed, laying on his back, half hard cock lying on his stomach, already leaking and flushed. 

“Good.” Harwin praises simply, though you see Daemon’s brows flutter with pleasure. “My love,” he addresses you, giving you a gentle kiss, “Let me?” He asks, gesturing to your nightgown. You nod with a smile, letting him undress you. “Perfection,” he groans once you’re bare before him, dark eyes roaming your body. 

“I want you to do something for me, princess,” he says, leading over to the bed, motioning for you to kneel on your knees next to Daemon. 

“What’s that?” You ask, looking from your husband to the prince. 

Harwin grabs your waist, much gentler than Daemon had ever touched you, and you can’t help but whimper, loving the way he manhandles you into position. Before you know it, he has you hovering over Daemon’s face, your entire body flushing as you realize what he wants. 

“Sit.” He says lowly, letting you drop onto the prince’s waiting mouth. 

“Oh!” You say in surprise, your thighs clenching around Daemon’s head. Immediately, you feel a rumble beneath you, making you whine as you realize he’s groaning with contentment as his tongue meets your aching heat. “Gods!” You gasp, hips moving of their own accord over his lips as your fingers tangle in his pale hair, causing him to groan more underneath you. 

You pant, humping against his face like nothing more than the wanton whore he claimed you to be, mewls and whines escaping your lips constantly as your eyes squeeze shut. 

You hear Harwin shuffling next to the bed and open your eyes, peering over your shoulder and shivering at the sight of your husband undressing, his muscular body on full display for you. Finally undressed, he turns to you, stroking his cock as he stalks toward the bed, eyes scanning over your body. 

“Is he making you feel good, my little love?” 

“Yes, sir!” You pant, nodding frantically. The bed dips under his weight as Harwin kneels on the bed next to you, his free hand coming up to palm at your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipples before he pinches them, humming appreciatively at the way you squirm atop Daemon. 

“Good,” Harwin chuckles, leaning over to mouth at one breast while his hand continues teasing the other, “He must atone for earlier.” He finishes, letting go of his stiff cock to slap at Daemon’s thigh, making the man below you jerk and moan, his hands gripping at your rear tighter as his cock twitches against his abdomen.

You gasp, surprised by both the slap and the way Daemon’s lips seal around your bud in response, sucking it into his mouth and teasing it with his hot tongue as your hips grind down harder, “Oh, Gods, fuck!” 

Beside you, Harwin stands on the bed, bending to kiss the top of your head, chuckling at the way you cling to him for support. “Shh, little sweetling,” he soothes, standing up straight, the sight of his cock making your mouth water as he fists it in front of your lips, “I have something you can occupy yourself with.” He teases, moving closer to you. 

Smiling up at him, you softly lick the tip, pride swelling in your stomach at how much the slit is already leaking. You wrap your lips around the head, suckling softly as one of your hands untangles itself from Daemon’s hair to stroke the rest of Harwin’s length. You mewl around him as the prince continues feasting on your slit, plunging his tongue inside of you, deep groans vibrating through you every time he feels your walls clench around the muscle as he fucks it into you. 

Slowly but surely, you take more of your husband into your mouth, eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat. He groans above you, half lidded eyes keeping contact with yours as he gently strokes his hands through your hair. 

“Such a lovely, precious girl,” he grunts, his eyes nearly black but still shining with adoration, “Gods, princess, you’re perfect like this.” 

Your husband’s sweet praise pushes you closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach growing dangerously tight as you rut against Daemon’s mouth, his tongue zeroing in your bud as he feels you moving more and more determinedly against him, his eyes rolling back in his head at the way you taste. 

“Are you getting close, sweet girl?” Harwin asks, gently fucking his hips into your mouth. 

You nod around his length, eyebrows furrowing together as you stare up at him pleadingly. Blessedly, your sweet husband can never bear to make you wait very long. 

“Find your peak, my love,” Harwin huffs as he strokes his length, “Cover him with it.” 

As always, you do as he commands. The knot in your belly finally snaps once more and you moan above Daemon, practically crying at the way each wave of your orgasm crashes over you, sending shivers down your spine. The prince slurps noisily below you, savoring your release as his cock twitches, leaking heavily onto his stomach. 

“Ah!” You cry, hips twitching as Daemon’s tongue persists against you, only stopping when you lift yourself off of him and settle back onto his chest, “Seven Hells.” You breathe, your wet slit pressed tightly against the center of Daemon’s chest. 

Harwin once again kneels on the bed and you peer over your shoulder, eyes widening as you see him swipe a finger through the pool of of arousal leaking from the flushed head of the prince’s cock, where it rests against his stomach, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which makes the man below you groan. 

“Seems he wants something,” Harwin teases, “Shall we let him have it?”

“Please, sir,” you whine, nodding pathetically at the chance to finally sink onto Daemon’s cock, “Let him, please!”

“Aww, sweet thing,” Harwin coos, tenderly caressing your cheek, “Thank you, although you are not who I wish to hear from.” 

At that, you can feel Daemon squirm beneath you, a determined set to his eyes, “Forget it.” He shakes his head, hands tracing over your curves. 

“Really?” Harwin asks, reaching behind you and grabbing Daemon’s aching length, stroking him slowly, making the prince’s body go rigid as he practically whines beneath you, “You don’t want to feel our lady’s sweet little cunt on your cock?” 

“Seven—“ Daemon chokes, hands gripping your waist enough to bruise. You can’t help but ruck your hips against him, your bud dragging deliciously against the barely there hair on his chest, “Fuck you, Strong.” He grunts, legs twitching as Harwin meanly squeezes at his length. 

“I don’t think it’s me you want to fuck,” your husband taunts, shaking his head, “I know you want it, know you want to have your way with my little wife,” you can tell when Harwin begins stroking Daemon’s length again as the man underneath you tenses, his muscles pulling taut, “Simply ask nicely and you may have her.” 

You watch Daemon for a moment, studying the pained look on his face, his jaw still clenched and determined. You know he won’t do as your husband commands, still too proud no matter how true Harwin’s taunts are. So, you take pity on him, unable to reign in your own desire either. Bracing your hands on his chest, you move yourself back along the length of his torso, coming to hover over his stomach just above where your husband continues teasing at his length. 

Leaning down, you gently kiss along Daemon’s jaw until your lips are positioned just under his ear, “Tell him what he wants to hear,” you implore, your breath tickling his pale skin, “I want it as badly as you, please my prince, please just do as he asks.” You beg, rutting your hips against his firm stomach. 

Daemon opens his eyes finally, dark with desire as he looks at you, watching as you nod encouragingly, your own brows set in a pleading furrow. Again, the prince sighs, his body deflating, “Please,” he starts, his voice barely a whisper at first, growing louder once you dip your head down and begin teasing his neck, “Please let me fuck her, let me please her.” 

“Let you fuck who?” Harwin teases, finally releasing Daemon’s cock. 

“Please, let me fuck your pretty wife,” Daemon sighs, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, making you gasp and rut your hips against his stomach again, “Please, ser.” 

“That wasn’t so difficult, hm?” Your husband chuckles, making himself comfortable at the head of the bed, his back against the plush pillows. He fixes you in his dark gaze, muscular arms folded over his chest, “Ride him. Tame our dragon, sweetling.” 

Our dragon. Again, his words make you shiver and you nod wordlessly, sliding further down Daemon’s lithe body before your center, dripping and aching, is finally positioned over his length. Once more, you look down at the prince’s face, his silvery hair spread in a halo around his head; he’s breathing harshly, his cock twitching against your center as he gazes at you, the animalistic lust in his eyes replaced with a glimmer that makes your heart twist — you’ve seen the same one in Harwin’s dark eyes time and time again. 

Before you have time to dwell on it, Daemon’s hands grip your hips, pushing you down slowly. Both of you groan, his length stretching you deliciously. You brace your hands on his chest, nails digging into his skin as your hips sink lower and lower, cursing as he’s finally pressed inside you completely, his cock filling every inch of you as your walls pulse around him. 

“Fuck,” Daemon grunts, his hands gripping at your waist and hips as his eyes roll back, “Tight little cunt, so good.” His hands suddenly grip your ass, making you whimper and grind yourself against him at the feel of his rough hands against your still tender skin. 

You can’t help the moans and whimpers that escape your lips as you begin rocking in Daemon’s lap, angling your hips in a way that causes his head to brush against that spot deep within you, the one that makes your head spin. “Gods, shit!” You can’t help but gasp at the way he feels inside you, his cock stretching you nicely — not as wide as Harwin’s but just a hair longer, filling you to the brim. 

“Does he feel good, my love?” Your husband asks, causing you to open your eyes and look over at him. You nod as you meet his eyes, the brown almost totally taken over by blackness as he relaxes against the pillows, eyes sweeping up and down your body as he watches you grind yourself atop the prince, “How does she feel, your grace?” He addresses Daemon. 

The man below you groans, the wild look returning to his eyes as you start bouncing more frantically, “Fucking perfect,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around the small of your back and pulling you down to him, your chests pressing together, “Perfect, wet, fuck, wet little cunt.” He groans into your neck, hands gripping at your ass again. 

You whine at the feel of his lips and teeth on your neck, your hands tangling in his hair. You whimper when you feel him bend his legs behind you, his thighs pressing against your bum; your whimpers turn to sharp cries as he begins thrusting up into you, spearing you down onto his cock over and over, the head nearly kissing your cervix as he does. 

Your cries rise in volume the closer you get, your thighs tensed against his movements as the knot in your stomach tightens, your walls clutching at his length. You gasp as one of his hands comes up, abandoning your ass to wrap lightly around your throat, only holding it instead of squeezing. His movements make your bud rub against the small thatch of hair at the base of his cock, sending sparks throughout your body.

“Ooh, she’s getting close,” Harwin observes, lightly tugging at his length as he watches you come undone atop Daemon, “Don’t you want her to soak your cock?”

“Gods,” Daemon groans, feeling the way your walls keep getting somehow tighter around his cock. He pants as he moves his hips faster, punching his length into you relentlessly, savoring the way you gasp and moan into his mouth, “Yes, yes want it.” He groans brokenly, spiraling toward his own release as well. 

“Aren’t you going to ask my permission?” Harwin teases, smirk spreading across his face at the frustrated groan that leaves Daemon. “You need my permission to make her peak,” your husband says, his gravelly tone making you shiver as you lose yourself, “Beg for it.” 

This time, thankfully, Daemon does not protest, both of you too desperate. “Fucking hell,” he hisses, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, “Please, fuck, please I need to make her peak, please!” He huffs, pressing his forehead against your own, staring deeply into your eyes as he grabs at any flesh of yours he can reach. 

“Very good,” you do not miss the way Daemon shivers at Harwin’s praises, “Make her come undone.” Your husband commands. 

At this, one of Daemon’s hands buries itself between your two bodies, fingers frantically seeking out your bud and rubbing tight, wet circles into the sensitive flesh. Within seconds, you unravel, light bursting behind your eyelids as you cry out, fire igniting in your veins. Your walls pulse around Daemon’s cock as you cry out, your whole body shaking as your release flows over you in waves. 

Even through the blinding pleasure you can tell Daemon is teetering on the edge, savoring your orgasm before he allows himself his own. Harwin can tell too and his smirk grows, a devious idea coming to mind, “You cannot finish inside her,” he growls, shaking his head at Daemon, “That is mine and mine alone.”

The prince curses, his eyes squeeze shut as he manages to lift you up, pushing you back to sit atop his thighs as one of his hands comes up to strip at his cock a scant few times before a low, rumbling growl settles in his chest. A second later, he jerks suddenly, abdomen contracting as he finishes over his fist, pearly cum dripping onto his stomach, some of it shooting onto your chest and torso as well, making you gasp. 

The two of you breathe heavily as you collapse forward onto his chest, your tired muscles unable to hold you up; you whimper softly at the feel of his seed on your stomach, one of his hands stroking over your hair. “Thank you.” You sigh. 

He laughs, kissing the top of your head, “You need not thank me, princess,” he says tiredly, his choice of pet name making your heart skip a beat, “The pleasure was mine.” 

You feel the bed shift beside you before a pair of lips descend upon your back, kissing up to your shoulder. Your husband pushes your hair back and you smile up at him shyly. “You are truly perfection, my little love,” he smiles, “Has our dragon tired you out?” 

You shake your head, reaching out for Harwin, “I want you,” you breathe, letting him flip you onto your back until you’re lying next to Daemon, “Please, take me, my love.” You beg, grabbing onto every part of Harwin you can as he positions himself between your legs. 

“Fuck her,” Daemon says suddenly, his eyes scanning over Harwin, “I wish to see her break.” 

You shudder at his words, your core clenching at nothing, making you whine. Harwin shushes you lovingly, running his length through the slick still dripping from your center. “Shh, I will give you what you want, sweet one,” he says as he pushes his head into you, already deliciously stretching you, “As I always do, always will.” He grunts, sinking into you. 

Your eyes flutter, his cock still stretching your walls, causing your center to ache beautifully, your back arching on the furs. “Gods,” you breathe, moaning as Harwin bends down to lick into your mouth, your hands grabbing at his thick shoulders, “You feel so good inside me.”

He chuckles into your mouth before leaning back up, brown eyes gazing down at you adoringly, watching your chest bounce with every frantic breath you take as his hips finally press against yours. Groaning, he grabs at the backs of your knees, your legs bending as he pins them back, nearly folding you in half. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, rutting into you as you squirm beneath him, “I swear to the Seven you feel better every time.” He praises, looking down at where his cock disappears into you, marveling at the way your cunt shines in the light of the many candles placed around your chambers. 

The two of you move together for many moments, slick sounds from your center making you blush as you lose yourself in Harwin’s strong thrusts. He knows exactly how to unwind you after this much time together, and he wastes no time in doing so, a proud smile on his face as he feels your muscles tensing underneath him. 

“Close already, pretty girl?” He asks, his curls tumbling wildly as he moves. You nod, words catching in your throat as you clench around his thick cock. 

Beside you, Daemon, who has been watching with dark eyes all the while, slowly strokes his length, his other hand resting on your throat once more, his own breath growing more ragged each minute. 

Harwin’s gaze shifts to him, his thrusts speeding up as he looks over the prince’s lean figure, “Up,” he commands, motioning for Daemon to stand next to him, “Watch as I claim her, see her in the way I do.” 

Again, Daemon listens without a fight, rising from his place next to you as he comes to stand at the side of the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Harwin as he continues pumping at his cock, breathing heavily as he stares at the place where you and your husband connect. 

Harwin bends down suddenly, the motion pulling his length from you and causing you to whine — though that quickly turns to a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue lick at your stomach. Tilting your head up, you look down in just enough time to see his tongue sweep through the pool of Daemon’s seed, still splattered on you. “Oh!” You exclaim, surprised as you watch your husband gather the other man’s spend on his tongue. 

Leaning up, Harwin once again spears you on length before hovering his face over yours, his eyes searching your gaze. Knowing what he wants, you open your mouth, smiling through moans at the familiar sight of him gathering spit in his mouth. A second later, he is leaning down again, his lips  nearly connecting with yours as he spits into your waiting mouth, sharing Daemon’s seed with you. 

Your eyes roll back as you swallow, savoring the unfamiliar, heady taste of the prince as your cunt flutters. Above you, Daemon lets out a groan so loud he almost sounds as if he’s in pain. 

“Good girl,” Harwin praises, smoothing a hand through your hair as he resumes his harsh thrusts, his other hand bracing itself against your lower stomach, thumb toying with your bud, “My good girl.” 

“Seven Hells.” Daemon groans, fisting his cock harder and faster as he nears his own release. 

“I’m close, my love,” Harwin pants, his thumb pressing against your bud harder, making your hips twitch under him, “With me?” He asks, half lidded eyes watching your own. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You moan in time with each of his thrusts, nodding your head wildly as you thrash within his grasp, pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. 

“Watch as I claim her,” he commands Daemon, tangling a hand into his silvery hair, pointing his gaze exactly where he wants it — where the two of you connect, “Watch as I breed our princess.” 

His words send you over the edge, your walls milking his length as you feel the heat of the two men’s gazes fixed on your cunt. You gasp as your peak washes over you once more, the strongest of the night, causing your entire body to spasm uncontrollably in Harwin’s strong grasp. 

Above you, Harwin grunts as his cock spasms within you, painting your walls with his seed. As he tips over the edge, he turns his head to Daemon, pulling the dragon to him, their mouths crashing together. Hearing their twin groans, you manage to open your eyes, the sight before you nearly making you peak again. Their lips battling for dominance, neither relenting as their tongues tangle together, grunts and growls filling each other's mouths. 

Daemon finishes at nearly the same second your husband does, his seed splattering onto the furs beside you as his chest heaves. 

Harwin comes to a stop within you, his hand softening in Daemon’s hair though he does not pull away. You watch them kiss for a moment more, surprised at the heat building within you at the sight. Your walls clench around your husband's spent cock, making him jump and finally pull away from the other man, facing you with a knowing smile as you blush, your eyes flitting between four others. 

“Vaogenka riña,” Daemon drawls, his hands grasping one of your legs, massaging the muscle of your calf as your foot rests delicately on the center of his chest, “Taking pleasure from watching your husband with another.” (Dirty girl.)

“Watching him with you.” You clarify with a grin. 

Happily groaning, Harwin withdraws his length from you, shushing you as you whine. You feel your husband's seed dripping from you a moment later and both men hum appreciatively at the sight. 

“Shall I draw us a bath, sweetling?” Harwin asks, brushing sweat from your forehead, “I know you do not like to go to sleep so dirty, though if you are too spent…” 

You shake your head, giggling as both men help you stand on shaky legs, “I would gladly take a bath, husband,” you look between the two of them before your gaze settles on Daemon, “With both of you?” 

Daemon kisses you, much sweeter than he had before, “Hen rhinka, dārilaros.” He smiles, picking you up by the backs of your legs, making you squeal with laughter as he carries you over to the tub, sitting on the edge with you on his lap as Harwin prepares the bath, just the way you like. (Of course, princess.)

A few moments, and kisses, later your husband confirms it’s ready. He steps into the bath first with a curse, “I do not know how you find pleasure in this heat,” he jokes, gritting his teeth as his skin grows accustomed to the hot water, “Caraxes may as well be burning me where I stand.” 

Daemon laughs at that, the two men helping you into the bath, settling you against Harwin, a position you’d taken many times before. You sigh gratefully as the water warms your tired skin, the sweet smelling oils relaxing you, “Hush,” you chuckle, watching as the prince lowers himself into the water as well, on the opposite end of the large tub, “It feels perfect.” 

Daemon sighs in agreement, long arms resting on the lip of the tub as he tilts his head back, the steam making silvery strands of his hair cling to his shoulders and chest. “Perfection indeed.” He says contentedly, making Harwin’s chest shake with laughter against your back. 

Your eyes droop closed after a moment, Daemon massaging your feet and legs as Harwin busies himself with washing your shoulders, neck, and chest.

A gentle breeze billows through the sheer curtains of your chambers, the cool air feeling delicious on your heated skin, the smell of Aemma’s sweet blossoms in the palace gardens making your lips quirk up into a tired smile. 

“Sleep, princess.” Harwin commands gently, whispering against your neck. 

“Ēdrugon.” Daemon echos. (Sleep.)

You obey.

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[deliciousangelfestival]

Another Ending - 2 | Bucky Barnes

Character: ex!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a short week watching over your niece, who loves romance books. She thought you were just a normal aunt, but it turns out you have secrets.

Tags: Spies, action, threat, offense, fight scene, violence, romance, comedy.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 ,-

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The car ride was tense, with only the sound of tires humming against the asphalt breaking the silence. You stared out the window, watching the trees blur by, trying to suppress the anxiety gnawing at you.

“We need to get to the train station,” you suggested, breaking the silence.

Bucky’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Too risky. We have to stay low for a while.”

You nodded, your mind racing through the possibilities. If a motel or hotel was too dangerous, where could you go? “We should camp. I have the gear in the car.”

Bucky glanced at you, a small nod of approval. “Good.”

The awkward silence returned, thick and suffocating, until a small voice broke through.

“This is destiny,” Lori murmured, her face lighting up as she reached into her bag to pull out a notebook. She began scribbling furiously.

You and Bucky exchanged a confused look. “What’s got you writing all of a sudden?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“New ideas for my fanfiction,” Lori said, her tone excited.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Lori…”

Bucky kept driving, his eyes scanning the road ahead until he found a secluded area surrounded by trees. He maneuvered the car off the road, hiding it as best he could among the foliage.

“Who is she, really?” Bucky asked, his tone serious.

“My niece,” you replied, your voice low.

Lori, sensing the conversation was about her, raised her hand like she was in class. “Oh, I have a confession to make. I’m the one who replied to your email.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as he turned to you, his expression a mix of disbelief and something else. “Can’t say I’m not a little disappointed. But thanks to her, I finally know your real name.”

Lori, completely missing the tension in the air, beamed. “You didn’t even know each other’s names, but you kept looking for her? That’s so romantic.”

Bucky shot you a look, his expression unreadable, but the way his gaze lingered made you uncomfortable. Was she really your niece? He couldn’t help but wonder.

You shook your head, grabbing your bag and pulling out a burner phone. You needed to call your sister and let her know you were taking Lori with you, that things had gotten… complicated.

Lori, oblivious to the serious undertone of the situation, watched you and Bucky closely, analyzing every glance and gesture. Through her writer’s lens, she saw the tension between you two as something else entirely. She grinned, her mind already spinning a new story of enemies-turned-lovers.

“Uh, I have a question,” Lori piped up. “After I replied, did you immediately read it?”

Bucky didn’t answer, his silence louder than any words could be. Lori took it as confirmation. “So, before you replied, you rushed to find my cool aunt, and when you got closer, you finally sent it. That’s such dedication to chasing love.” She squealed, hugging her notebook to her chest like a love-struck fangirl.

🥀🥀🥀🥀

Both of you walked in silence, the tension between you growing thicker with every step. You stayed close to the car, unwilling to stray too far, as if the vehicle was the only thing grounding you in this increasingly chaotic world.

“We can’t be together,” you finally said, your voice heavy with regret.

“But—” Bucky began, but you cut him off.

Without a word, you reached up and tugged down your collar, revealing a line of jagged scars etched into the skin of your neck. You usually kept them hidden under layers of makeup, but today, there was no time for that. The collar had been your only shield.

“These… they still haunt me,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s eyes softened, and without hesitation, he pulled up his shirt to reveal the scars marring his shoulder. The sight of them made your heart twist with guilt.

“It’s not just you,” he said, his voice low and filled with a shared pain. He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “We were both in the wrong.”

In the world of espionage, trust was a luxury neither of you could afford. You had been a double agent, living in the gray area between loyalty and betrayal. Bucky, a triple agent, had danced even closer to the edge. The scars you both bore were reminders of the countless times trust had been shattered.

The real reason you were being hunted wasn’t just because you were a skilled operative; it was because you had broken a vow. You had promised never to contact Bucky again, a promise made under the threat of being burned by your agency. But you had broken that promise, and now, you were paying the price.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice filled with an ache you couldn’t suppress. But your words died in your throat as you caught sight of movement behind a tree.

Lori. Your creative, ever-curious niece was hiding, scribbling furiously in her notebook as if she was documenting your every word.

“So, both of them feel guilty. It haunts them,” Lori muttered to herself, her eyes wide with fascination as she jotted down her thoughts.

You sighed deeply, the weight of everything crashing down on you. You marched over to Lori, grabbing her bag with a grunt. “Why is this so heavy?” you demanded, feeling the strain in your arm. Then it hit you. “Didn’t I tell you not to bring your books?”

Lori snatched her bag back, clutching it to her chest protectively. “No! I can’t live without them. This one is my favorite.”

You sighed again, rubbing your temples as if it would somehow alleviate the stress of the situation. Arguing with Lori was pointless; she was as stubborn as you were. You glanced over at Bucky, who had been watching the exchange with an amused yet concerned look.

“We should set up camp here,” you said, your voice resigned but firm.

Bucky nodded, but the way his eyes lingered on you told you that he wasn’t just agreeing to the plan; he was agreeing to this unspoken understanding that, despite everything, you were in this together, whether you liked it or not.

As you began to unpack the gear, the reality of your situation weighed heavily on you. The scars, the guilt, the constant running—it was all too much. But here you were, setting up camp in the middle of nowhere with a man who was both your greatest ally and your deepest regret, and a niece who seemed determined to make you believe again in romance.

And all you could think about was how much it hurt, how much it haunted you, and how much you wished things could be different. But in the world you lived in, wishes were just as dangerous as promises.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

After setting up the camp, you busied yourself with preparing dinner. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a dusky twilight that painted the sky in shades of purple and orange.

The scent of the forest mingled with the aroma of the food, creating a comforting atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the tension from earlier.

Bucky sat by the lake, his figure a dark silhouette against the shimmering water. He occasionally stole glances in your direction, watching as you moved with practiced efficiency. The sight of you, so capable and yet so burdened, stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite name.

A soft voice broke the stillness. “🎵I’m just a talking plant, don’t mind me,🎵” Lori sang in a playful, lilting tone as she twirled her way over to Bucky. She stopped beside him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Do you like my aunt?” she asked, her tone innocent yet oddly probing.

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. What’s wrong with this kid? He raised an eyebrow, trying to mask his surprise.

Lori, undeterred by his silence, continued with a knowing smile. “I get it. You’re a man of few words. You’re exactly like the male character from this book.”

She held up the novel she’d been carrying, the title "The Red Swan" emblazoned on the cover. Bucky tilted his head, the title vaguely familiar but not enough to place it.

“Are you really her niece?” Bucky asked, his curiosity piqued by Lori’s strange mix of wisdom and childlike wonder.

Lori shrugged a carefree gesture that spoke volumes. “My dad is a theater teacher.”

Bucky nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. That explained a lot—her flair for the dramatic, her perceptiveness, her relentless curiosity.

“Here,” Lori said, thrusting the romance novel into his hands.

“Why?” Bucky asked, looking down at the book with a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

Lori sighed as if explaining something painfully obvious. “It’s as clear as the sky is blue that you like my aunt. But you never express it. If your actions alone aren’t enough, you need to use your words. From the start, you’ve only said thirty-one words. None of us can read each other’s minds.”

Bucky found himself unexpectedly impressed. This kid had been counting his words? And, annoyingly enough, she was right. He glanced at Lori, who gave him a confident salute, her eyes twinkling with a mix of innocence and cunning.

“Trust me,” she said with a playful wink before scampering back over to you, her small figure darting between the trees with the energy of a whirlwind.

Bucky watched her go, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was something endearing about Lori’s antics, the way she seemed to bring a different side out of you, a side he hadn’t seen before. A side he realized he wanted to know more about.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and looked down at the book Lori had handed him. Romance novels had never been his thing, but something about the way she insisted piqued his interest.

He flipped to the summary on the back cover, his eyebrows raising in mild surprise at the plot. It was more intricate than he’d expected, with themes of loyalty, betrayal, and forbidden love woven through the narrative.

Intrigued despite himself, Bucky began reading, his fingers brushing the pages as he turned them. As he read, his breath hitched slightly. The story was compelling, drawing him in with its depth and emotion. “This is… interesting,” he murmured to himself, unable to deny the pull of the story.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

The next morning, the three of you made your way to the train station. It was too risky to fly; the airport would be crawling with potential threats. You handled the ticket counter, purchasing a ticket for Lori while she waited with Bucky a short distance away. She noticed the way he kept his eyes on you, his gaze lingering as if trying to memorize every detail.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, Lori leaned over and pinched his thigh. “You should talk to her,” she whispered, her tone insistent.

Just then, you returned, holding the tickets in your hand. “Alright, I got it,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “I guess this is goodbye. Thanks for helping us.” Your voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something unsaid, a tension that hung in the air.

Bucky hesitated, his thoughts warring within him. Then, out of nowhere, he felt a sharp kick to his shin. Lori again, urging him forward. “Say something before you lose this chance!” she hissed.

“Seven years,” Bucky finally said, his voice rough with emotion.

“What?” You turned to him, confused by his sudden declaration.

“I’ve been looking for you and waiting for seven years,” he continued, his eyes locking onto yours.

The words hit you like a tidal wave, stirring up emotions you’d buried deep. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart pounded in your chest. Seven years. The weight of those words hung between you, thickening the air. Lori squealed beside you, her excitement palpable, but you could barely hear her over the rush of blood in your ears.

Bucky took a step closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped searching. Every lead, every dead end—it all brought me back to you.”

Before you could respond, a sudden prickle of awareness swept over you. You didn’t have to look around to know—you were being watched. Instinct kicked in, and you grabbed Lori’s hand. “We have to go,” you said urgently, pulling her along.

“But Aunt, he’s not done!” Lori protested, glancing back at Bucky as you hurried away.

Bucky was right behind you, not willing to let you slip away again. “We can’t stay together, Bucky!” you insisted, your voice edged with both desperation and regret.

“You’re going to Massachusetts,” he replied, undeterred. “I want to go there too.”

“Why?” you demanded, your eyes narrowing.

Bucky held up the book that Lori had given him. “Because of this.” He pointed to the title on the cover, his expression serious.

“The Red Swan.” The words rolled off your tongue with a sense of familiarity that sent a shiver down your spine. The title dredged up old memories, ones you’d tried hard to forget.

Bucky saw the recognition in your eyes and pressed on. “From what I’ve read—”

“You read it?” Lori interrupted, her voice tinged with awe.

“From what I’ve read,” Bucky continued, his gaze never leaving yours, “the mission in this book mirrors the one we had. The same code names, the same hotel rooms…”

Lori gasped, her eyes wide with amazement. “Oh wow!”

“You don’t mean—” you started, your mind racing to catch up.

Bucky nodded grimly. “I need to see the author of this novel. What’s his deal? How does a romance author know so much about a mission we both lived through? The details are too precise to be coincidence.”

Your heart pounded harder, and you exchanged a glance with Bucky. The implications were chilling. Someone out there knew far too much about your past—a past that was supposed to be buried. And now, that knowledge was in the pages of a book for anyone to read.

"Let's go," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. But then you hesitated, realizing, "Oh, but I didn’t buy your ticket."

Bucky chuckled softly, a rare sound that almost made you smile. "I’ll handle it," he replied, his confidence soothing your worry.

The three of you boarded the train, slipping into a quiet compartment. Lori, practically bouncing with excitement, clasped her hands together. She was thrilled that you and Bucky weren’t parting ways.

Unable to contain her joy, she started singing softly, “🎵We’re all in this together…🎵”

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[dollishbabess]

Hi! Could I ask for headcanons of Damian and a reader that’s trying to befriend him? Like, they’re dating one of his brothers and are just trying to bond with him.

Hope you’re having a good day!

“DO YOU EVER SHUT UP??” ── .✦ dollish

A/n: this is actually creativee, and ty ofc you too, I was eating a burger while making this so correct any mistakes in your head pls

(Platonic!)

Sibling Rivalry You start off with the best intentions of being a good sister-in-law, but every time you try to engage with Damian, he challenges you to a duel. “You wish to be my sister-in-law? Prove your worth!” You look around a bit confused “How about proving your worth by helping me cook dinner instead?” You say a bit weirded out by this “king” act He reluctantly agrees but still insists on holding a sword while stirring the pot just in case this is an attempt on his life.

"Are You My New Mother?" Damian finds it strange to have a sister-in-law. One day, while you're helping him with his homework, he looks up and asks, “Are you my new mother?” You burst out laughing, saying, “No, I’m just your super cool sister-in-law! Way cooler than anybody else!” He narrows his eyes, “You are not as cool as you think, Do you have body dysmorphia or do you need a mirror?” He says side eyeing you.

Cooking Disaster You decide to bond with him by cooking dinner together. However, your culinary skills are questionable at best. After an hour in the kitchen, you both emerge covered in flour, and the kitchen is a disaster zone. Damian looks at the charred remains of what was supposed to be lasagna and says, “I think I preferred it when you didn’t come into my life.”

Pet Therapy Gone Wrong You asked dick what Damian liked best and dick said animals so you try to bond by bringing home a puppy, hoping it would melt his icy demeanor. Instead, the puppy jumps all over him, and he ends up on the floor with the dog licking his face. He exclaims, “This creature is trying to assert dominance! This is unacceptable L/N .” You laugh, “Well, it’s working. You look pretty helpless right now!”

Shopping Spree You decide that every good sister-in-law should go shopping with damian, If the dog didn’t work maybe a bit of shopping would. You take him to a mall and try to get him to try on some casual clothes. He glares at the store employees like they’ve offended his entire bloodline every time they suggest something. You end up with a pair of socks that have cats on them, and he’s stuck with a beanie that has a giant “D” on it. “This is not acceptable,” he mutters, but you can see he’s secretly amused.

The millennial core jokes..the problem with dating dick is you get infested with millennial jokes and start acting like the millennials you used to laugh at. “Hey, Damian, why did the Batmobile cross the road?”, he clearly cringes and then scowls. “I do not know.” “To get to the other side!” He rolls his eyes, muttering, “You are truly old.” You beam at him, “And yet, I can still fit in! Skidbi or whatever you guys say!”

Movie Night You invite him to a movie night, thinking it’s a great way to bond. You choose a romantic comedy, and he looks horrified. “This is not a movie! It is an abomination.” You insist, “Just watch it! It’s supposed to be funny.” Halfway through, he’s making sarcastic comments and you realize he’s getting into it, even if he pretends not to enjoy it.

Unintentional Matchmaker You try to set him up with your niece who’s around the same age as him, Thinking it would help him socialize. He turns up with the girl and they’re both awkwardly silent, prompting you to burst out laughing. “Are you two plotting a wedding or just not talking?” He glares, “It is not a marriage proposal!” but you can see the faintest hint of a blush.

Baking Lessons You attempt to teach Damian how to bake cookies, claiming it’s a “sisterly bonding experience.” He takes it very seriously, reading the recipe as if it’s a sacred text. When the cookies turn out slightly burnt, he deadpans, “This was clearly an attempt on my life.” You retort, “Nah, they’re just crunchy a new trend.” You take a bite almost chipping your tooth. “Mhm! Mmm yummy……” Damian raises an eyebrow at you. “Your not enjoying it.”

The Ultimate Test Finally, you declare a “Prankster challenge” where you both try to outdo each other in ridiculous antics. You prank Dick together, try to scare Alfred (didn’t work), and end with an epic pillow fight. When it’s over, both of you are exhausted, lying on the floor. Damian sighs dramatically, “I suppose you are not the worst sister-in-law one could have although you are questionably clueless .” You grin, “And you’re not the worst little brother-in-law either!”

── .✦ My brain is FINISHEDDDD so sorry if this is so wrong 😭😭

Second divider @cafekitsune

[leossmoonn]

mike schmidt trying to flirt with you is a like a car crash. it’s so bad, but you’re intrigued.

he happens to be sitting next to you at abby’s yearly pediatrician check up. she’s sitting at one of the little tables in the lobby coloring while mike’s waiting for the nurse to call abby in. he can’t help but notice the absolute beauty sitting next to him. you’re flipping mindlessly through a magazine, looking up and sighing every so often as your wait time increases.

“terrible time management here, right?” mike asks. you glance over at him, his eyes nervously flickering from you to the wall. you don’t say anything, not sure if he was speaking to you or himself. mike sita up in his chair, trying to look more confident this time.

“terrible time management, right?” he asks again. “i swear every time we’re here, it takes half a day just for a little check up.”

“yeah,” you agree. “it doesn’t help that it’s always busy.”

mike hums in agreement, thinking of what to say next. god, he’s so dumb and helpless. was it really this hard to flirt, much less talk? he looks over at you, trying to catch something that he could say. perhaps maybe you’re wearing something he can compliment? or there’s something in your magazine that’s also interesting to him?

“do you have a staring problem or something?” you break him out of his thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his heart slipping a beat. “i… uh… no. i… just like looking at interesting things.” he rushes out.

you raise your brows. “i’m an interesting thing?” he wants to kick himself. “no! i mean, yes. what i meant to say was i like staring at beautiful… people.” he watches as your lips upturn, but you work to keep it in a straight line. god, now he just wants to someone to run him over with a semi. “i didn’t mean that either,” he’s quick to say.

“oh, so i’m not beautiful?” you scoff, can’t help but feeling a little amused. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him cute as well. you thought about saying something to him, but you’re glad you didn’t. if you did, you’d miss whatever this is.

his eyes widen and he wishes the nurses would call abby’s name. “yes! yes, you are very beautiful. i’m just uh… well.. i-i’m mike.”

“it’s nice to meet you, mike,” you say. you look back at your magazine, not really reading any of the words now.

“are you here with your, uh, kid?” mike asks. “yes,” you say at first. “well, she’s not mine. she’s my niece. my sister and her husband are out of town and i get to babysit her.”

you swear you hear mike say “thank god”.

“what about you? is that your little girl over there?” you point to abby who is sharing her crayons with another kid.

“yeah, but she’s my little sister,” he says. “ah, how sweet. she looks like a nice kid,” you say.

“she is. so, uh, do you live around here?” mike asks.

you stifle a giggle and nod. “i do.”

“oh, awesome!” he exclaims like he just won the lottery. you look at him again and he calms down, laughing awkwardly. “yeah, that’s cool. i mean, obviously you live here. or maybe you don’t. it would make sense. you’re babysitting, so —”

“josie hutchins?” a nurse calls out. “that’s me,” you say. you fold up the magazine and place it on the table next to you. mike looks so sad, like he just witness a puppy die. “ah, okay. nice talking to you.”

“you, too,” you smile sweetly, taking your neice by the hand. as you walk away, a little folded up piece of paper from your coat.

“h-hey! you forgot this,” mike says, but you’re already gone. he picks it up, choking on his own spit once he reads your number on the paper. you must’ve wrote it down while mike was blabbering like an idiot.

“abby schmidt?” a nurse calls out. mike shoots up from his spot, making sure to slide the piece of paper in his pocket for safe keeping.

[daenysx]

can i request some drabble about the baby boy mentioned in the dad hcs, since hes the younger child, and the girl is 3 years older than him, maybe his birth and her and aemond reaction to it!😃

i hope you enjoy ♡

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, fluff

aemond remembers how his mother tells him alyssa is the calmest baby she's ever seen.

she has a point, he thinks. it's never easy, sitting on a hospital bench as he waits for the birth of his baby. this time he has his girl on his lap, three years old and the loveliest person he knows. they didn't let him in. he tries to be as calm as alyssa.

helaena sits next to him, she reaches to hold his hand. aemond is desperate for any comfort he can get, alyssa leans against her father's chest as he wraps an arm around her. she knows they are waiting for her baby brother but she has no idea what to expect. she doesn't know her mom can be hurting. she just waits with huge eyes following her dad. she stares at helaena who gives her a pretty smile.

"it'll be okay." helaena says.

"i almost forgot how hard it is." aemond says, staring at the floor. "waiting outside when she fights there."

"they would tell us if there's something wrong." his sister tells him. she squeezes his fingers. "you have to believe they'll be okay."

"i believe it." aemond says, quietly. his free hand fixes alyssa's silver hair softly.

"daddy?" she lifts her head to see him properly. "i wanna see mom."

aemond gives her a long kiss on her forehead. "we'll see mom and your baby brother soon. we just need to wait a little more."

"why are you sad?" she asks him. aemond needs to keep his face cool.

"i'm not sad, baby, i promise." he smiles. "i'm just excited to meet your brother."

"me too." alyssa says. she plays with the buttons of aemond's shirt.

"why don't we go get something to eat?" helaena says, reaching for her niece. "i think i saw your favorite cupcakes at the cafeteria."

"you did?"

"yes!" she takes alyssa's hand to let her walk slowly. "we can also bring a cup of coffee to daddy."

aemond is grateful for his big sister more than he already is. he watches them walk away, keeps staring at the walls as he waits. the minutes make fun of him. when will someone come and tell him what's happening inside? are you okay? the baby? he huffs quietly, tilting his head back to the wall.

he was there when alyssa was born and he thinks it was easier. he got to hold your hand and talked to you. now, you're alone. he's terrified if something bad happens to you, no matter what the doctors say aemond knows every birth is a risk.

he takes a deep breath. almost half an hour passed since helaena and his girl left. he sees them coming back, alyssa tries to catch up with her aunt with her tiny legs.

"thank you." aemond says when his sister gives him the coffee cup. "you got your cupcake, baby?" he asks when alyssa climbs on his lap. she nods. "chocolate." she says, holding onto his arm.

"that's nice." aemond tells her. he takes a sip from his coffee but it doesn't do anything to calm his nerves. he looks at helaena. "can we ask someone- they still don't say anything, i can't wait any longer-"

"mr. targaryen?" aemond sees the nurse when he lifts his head. he puts the cup aside and stands up with alyssa in his arms.

"yes?"

"congratulations." the nurse smiles. "you have a healthy boy."

aemond feels a ton of bricks lift up from his chest. "my wife?"

"she's okay. they will bring her and the baby to the room, you can meet them there."

aemond nods, he accepts a hug from helaena. little alyssa wraps her arms around her dad, she notices his pout disappear. aemond kisses her cheek as he walks to the room.

you look exhausted but there's a smile on your face when you see them. the nurses bring your baby to you, they help you sit straight as much as possible with so many pillows behind your back. you tear up the first time you get to hold him in your arms.

"aemond-" you cry. "look at him."

aemond comes to your side. helaena waits by the door to give you some privacy, she doesn't need to do that but she's just too nice. "look." you show him your son proudly. "he has your hair."

"he's so beautiful." aemond says. that's what his son is to him on their first encounter. beautiful. he opens his eyes and aemond sees two shiny lilacs looking at him. he holds alyssa tighter to his chest.

"are you okay?" aemond asks you before giving you a kiss on your hair. "i was so worried."

"i'm okay now." you say. you turn to your little girl who watches you silently. "hi, baby. do you want to meet your brother?"

she nods, and helaena steps in. she takes alyssa in her arms with a delightful smile directed at you. "he's such a pretty boy." she says. "nice to meet you, little angel."

you give your son to aemond's arms. he's cautious, it's a core memory to hold a newborn baby. "this is your brother, little love." he tells alyssa. "his name is aelyx."

"lyx." alyssa says. she watches the baby making quiet noises, her soft hand touches his little fist. "hello."

"you'll be taking care of each other, okay?" aemond says with a wet eye. "you're a big sister now."

"just like me." helaena says, smiling.

alyssa keeps watching the baby the following seconds. it's so interesting to see such a little human, he looks even tinier in aemond's arms. you watch how gentle he is with his son, forgetting all the pain you felt for a minute.

"she'll be such a good sister." you tell aemond. "look at her."

"she will." aemond says, watching her daughter's big eyes as she follows her brother.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (11)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, violence, swearing, descriptions of wounds, physical and verbal aggression ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what had happened, after what he had found out, he ordered his most necessary things to be moved to her chamber. Seeing the look on his face and his fury, his mother dared not say a word on the matter, sensing that he already knew what she had done with his grandfather's blessing.

She had forced his betrothed to drink moon tea without his knowledge, without his consent, knowing that he would never allow it to happen, that if it turned out she was expecting his child he would marry her immediately without asking their opinion.

He thought with regret and remorse consuming his soul and heart that he should have done it right away, but now it was too late.

His moment of hesitation had cost him everything.

For the first two days, the only thing that came out of his niece's mouth was a quiet babble; she was still asleep, and when she woke up, his sister fed her with warm soup.

Helaena was the only person besides the maester and himself that he allowed to be in her chamber.

His mother, grandfather and Cole were not allowed in by his decision – he had vowed to them that if they crossed the threshold of her quarters, neither he nor Vhagar would aid them with their participation in the war they had unleashed at their own request.

As it turned out, his threat worked.

He realised that he was indeed a rider of the greatest dragon living in the world and could use that as a negotiating card, that they needed him and the alliance he could provide for them.

Storm's End.

He only left her alone when he needed to deal with something urgent, always asking Helaena to stay by her side then.

He trusted no one but her.

To his surprise, his brother-king showed a surprising understanding and a kind of compassion he had not expected from him.

He did not mock or joke about the situation during the meetings of the Small Council, and asked if her health was improving, personally giving his permission for him to be able to stay with her day and night even though he was not her husband, against the wishes of their grandfather.

The power they had was turning against him and Otto felt this, his daughter was also no longer so willing to listen to him seeing what tragedy the decisions he was putting into her head had led to.

She had completely broken down after the day following his niece's attempt to take her own life, because word from Dragonstone reached them that Rheanyra had lost her child.

In him his mother tried to find understanding and words of comfort, but he did not speak to her or look at her, unable to forgive her for her betrayal.

He had hoped that as a woman she would show more sensitivity, more caution.

His niece lived as if half asleep, waking and falling back into a dream, not understanding who she was or what was happening to her.

As night fell he would pull off his tunic and boots, staying in just his chemise and breeches, lying down behind her back, embracing her, entwining their fingers, sinking his face into her fragrant hair, inhaling her addictive scent.

She purred then sweetly, involuntarily recognising him, her head tilting back, letting him place soft, warm, wet kisses on her long neck, his large hands tentatively trailing over her body covered only by her thin nightgown, trying to draw on the time he had left until it reached her what had really happened.

His cock throbbed hard in his breeches as she whispered his name, pressing against her buttocks; he sighed quietly then, rubbing against her but not bringing himself to fulfilment, punishing himself in this way, recognising that he did not deserve relief.

He wanted to burn with her.

After three days he was awakened by her quiet hiss; he flinched and opened his eyes, sensing that she was trying to get up. She stared at her wrists wrapped in a fresh bandages before looking at him and he already knew.

Her lips pressed together, her brow arched in pain and disbelief, her eyes glazed over with tears of helplessness, anger and disappointment, her body began to twitch.

"− my love? −" He whispered, but she turned away from him, laying back on the bed and wept. He put his arm around her waist and kissed her neck, feeling the squeeze in his throat, breathing erratically, tears of shame in the corners of his eyes.

"− I didn't know − I swear I didn't know about moon tea −" He muttered, but he knew it was for nothing.

She didn't speak to him then or for the next few days, not even bestowing a single glance on him.

He thought with a sneer that the roles were reversed, that now it was he who begged in his thoughts for her attention, for her forgiveness, and he wondered if she would follow in his footsteps and not speak to him for the next eight years.

He sat in the evenings in a chair by the fireplace, gazing at her silhouette lying on her bed, a book in her hand, her wrists no longer bandaged, her freshly healed wounds still red, dark lines on her skin reminding him of who he was and what he had done to her.

At night he would lie down beside her and embrace her from behind, stroking her hands with his thumbs, and though her whole body tensed and froze when he touched her, she never pushed him away.

It seemed to him that her silence was even worse than her words of condemnation.

The day he was to set out on his mission to Storm's End was approaching mercilessly and she still didn't know it; he had no idea how he should convey it to her, himself discouraged and bitter at the thought of being forced to marry another woman, of living in a purely political marriage, which although he had reckoned with as a child, after his father's decision, he believed he would never experience.

He thought, looking at her face, at the girlish, pleasing shape of her body, about marrying her in secret, but he knew that she no longer wanted him, and no Septon would agree to help him out of fear of the Queen and his grandfather.

A nuptials in the tradition of Old Valyria remained, however, it required a cooperation on her part that he did not expect.

Moreover, guards stood outside her chambers day and night, watching not only her but also him, his grandfather was prudent and seeing his involvement he knew that he would try to act behind his back.

Although he hid behind a stony, indifferent face he felt helpless and tried to find a solution in his mind that would give him more room to act, to lull his family's vigilance.

He decided that, for the time being, he had to act as his relatives wished, so that they would believe that he was going to do what they told him to.

However, he had no idea how he was going to reason with his niece, how he was going to initiate her into his plans when, for obvious reasons, she was no longer going to participate.

He finally decided, experiencing a kind of revelation, that he would write her a letter, just as she had done to him all these years.

He saw her lift her gaze to him from the piece of embroidery she had just worked on, a bird from the crest of the Arryn family, her relatives on her grandmother's side, as he moved towards his secretary's desk, from which he pulled out a quill, ink and parchment.

Her expression of who she was, who she identified with, whose side she stood on.

He didn't give a fuck.

He sank the sharpened quill into the ink and stared at the blank sheet of parchment for a moment, wondering what it was he actually wanted to convey to her, and then he began to write, for the first time in his life openly expressing what he felt.

He thought it was liberating in a way, his words flowed like a river from his mind and his heart.

My Rhaenys,

I set out on my journey to Storm's End to quench my grandfather and mother's thirst with a sense of injustice. It occurs to me that only now am I able to understand what you have been going through all these years, experiencing from me only the silence I deeply believed you deserved at the time.

I'm sure you think the same of me now, and you're not wrong, because I myself am unable to comment or justify what happened through my hesitation, which cost me everything.

I thought it is easy to see what is right and what is wrong, to choose the proper path, but after my father's death it became apparent that none of this was the case, and my mother's and my grandfather's decision set it out for me, against my will, and although I tried to stand up to it, it seems to me that the consequences of their actions have sunk me like a wave that carries me onward, away from the safe harbour that you are.

I want you to realise, my niece, that one word from you is enough for us to slit our lips and hands upon my return and drink our warm, mingled blood, sealing at last our destiny once and for all.

I, unlike Aegon the Conqueror, want you in my bed every night.

I don't think Lord Baratheon's mind can contain what we read about as children and that he would accept that his daughter would be merely a second, and moreover, unwanted wife in my life. Union with him may give us an army to wage war on, but my union with you may in my mind end it with the birth of our child, a descendant of the Greens and Blacks.

I am not, and will not be able to accept, either as your uncle or as your husband, Jacerys, Lucerys or Joffrey as heirs to the throne for reasons that are well known to you, and which neither the marriage nor the threats of your stepfather and your mother can change − we both know full well that they do not and cannot have rights to the crown.

However, Aegon's and Viserys's rights to it are strong, unassailable even by me, and although as your uncle I have no personal interest in your mother or her offspring sitting on the Iron Throne, as your husband I would be willing, as part of a truce, to agree that it should not be Helaena and Aegon's children who inherit the throne, but my half-sister's and my uncle's or, if both sides in the conflict were to be at least partially satisfied, ours.

I have spent the last few days reflecting on what has happened and on what I think would be a solution that would satisfy me, but it has turned out that there is none. Unlike my brother, I don't delude myself that your mother will bend the knee, any more than any person with any dignity or pride would.

We all have to sacrifice something.

He looked at what he had written being filled with awe at how many words were in his mind, how many thoughts he was afraid to say out loud, that one could perhaps even consider a betrayal.

His words to her, to his childhood friend.

He huffed at the ink, wanting to make sure it wouldn't smudge, and rolled the parchment into a scroll. He rose from his seat with a creak of wood, feeling her surprised gaze on him as he placed his letter on the small table beside her bed, and then left, informing his guards that in his absence no one but his sister was allowed to cross the threshold of her chamber.

He changed with the help of his servants into his rider's attire, his leather cloak and gloves reminding him of how long it had been since he was riding on Vhagar, absorbed in all the events of the past weeks.

Rhaenyra gathering her forces around Dragonstone, her wrath that reached all the way to the Red Keep announcing that she would take back everything she had been robbed of.

Her daughter and her throne.

He thought about this, heading for the hill near the keep where his dragoness rested, no longer fitting into the Dragon Pit, like he didn't suit anywhere, didn't belong anywhere.

His journey to Strom's End was unpleasant and tiring; he had the feeling that the heavens were trembling with rage, that he was defying, though not of his free will, his destiny, the storm around him and the rain made him see little and he had to be very careful, gliding between the peaks of the mountains.

When he finally saw the high stone stronghold on the edge of the cliff in the distance he pressed his lips together and thought he would choose the most annoying and unpleasant of his daughters, not to experience a single bit of sympathy towards her when she realised what fate awaited her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of his beloved, his Rhaenys, and felt his heart beat fast, elated at the thought that she had surely already read his letter.

He thought it was amusing that as he flew to choose his future wife, all he could think about was how much he wanted to marry someone else.

He was welcomed in the fortress with honours. Lord Baratheon with his wife and daughters awaited him in the great circular throne room lit by torchlight, all around them he could hear the thunders being muffled by the thick walls.

"My Lord." He said lowly, looking up at the tall man seated before him, his bushy eyebrows furrowed as if he was judging him as a candidate for a husband for his daughters.

He struggled to contain the grimace of amusement that pressed across his face.

"My Prince. At last you have honoured us with your presence." He said drily, with an impatience from which his lips involuntarily curved into a wide smile. He could see in his gaze that he did not like it, however he clearly cared as much about this agreement as his mother, for he decided not to make any further remark.

"Let me introduce you to my daughters." He said in a low, throaty voice, pointing with his hand to his side, his gaze lazily directed towards them.

They each had dark hair, tied up in elaborate hairstyles apparently meant to add to their elegance and refinement, braided in the back and smoothed in the front, their simple gowns, though sewn of the most expensive materials, looked faded and grey to him, their eyes dark as were their eyelashes and eyebrows.

They were not repulsive or ugly, yet he felt nothing at the sight of them.

The emptiness that taken over his mind was astonishing to him compared to what overwhelmed his body when he saw his niece years later then, when she had watched his duel with Ser Criston, when he saw her bare shoulders, her long, loose, wavy hair, her sweet, puffy lips, her big, bright eyes.

He shuddered, reminding himself of her beautiful soft bare body, of how wonderfully tight and warm her fleshy insides were, of her sweet, shy moans of pleasure as he opened her wide on his fat cock again and again with confident thrusts of his hips.

His manhood throbbed in his breeches so hard at the thought that he swallowed loudly and grunted.

He nodded and approached them slowly, measuring them with his gaze. Only one of them dared to lift her gaze to him – he noticed a barely visible amused smile on her face. He raised his eyebrows seeing this and thought that she liked to coquet and mock men.

Perfect, he thought.

These were the kind of women he despised the most.

"What do they call you, my Lady?" He asked in a low, deep voice that echoed around them.

The girl straightened up proudly, clearly pleased that she had caught his attention, her gaze travelling over his figure from top to bottom, she was just deciding, apparently, whether she thought him handsome.

"Maris, my Prince." She said softly, her voice low, not as melodious, girlish and light as his niece's.

"Hm." He hummed under his breath and shuddered as he heard a guard walk swiftly into the great hall.

"Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon, heir to Driftmark." He announced loudly, and he turned, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, his lips tightening into a thin line as he caught sight of the silhouette of a black-haired boy, completely drenched from his journey.

When Luke spotted him at the other end of the hall he froze completely, pale and terrified – he felt a wild satisfaction at the thought that he knew he didn't stand a chance against him in a battle neither on the ground nor in the heavens.

He watched with a wide grin and a sneer as little Lord Strong in a trembling voice tried to persuade Borros Baratheon to support his mother's claim to the throne in accordance with his father's oath, and laughed aloud when it became apparent that he had come up empty-handed.

"Go home, pup. Tell your mother she won't call on me when she wishes like some dog." Growled Lord Baratheon, clearly self-satisfied that he could dismiss him with such ease, leaving him with nothing.

He felt like going after him, forcing him to fall to his knees before him and then gouge out his eye, to experience a wonderful sense of justice and atonement at last, but he refrained, recognising that his Rhaenys would never forgive him for that, so he merely looked away and sighed contentedly, grinning to himself.

"Was it not he who took your eye, my Prince? Are you going to let him just walk away?" He heard Maris's amused, mocking voice behind him and looked down at her with a gaze from which she lost her earlier confidence, her smile gone from her face.

"I have made my decision, my Lord." He said in a cold, indifferent voice. "Her."

Though Borros Baratheon's wife had insisted that he stay in Storm's End and not return to King's Landing during such a violent storm, he had replied that he would leave immediately.

Lady Baratheon looked at him then, tightening her lips, clearly wanting to ask something, hesitating whether she should do so, but in the end she could not bear it.

"It has come to my knowledge that Rhaenyra Targaryen's daughter, and your would-be betrothed, is your prisoner, my Prince." She said reluctantly, watching him intently, as if she wanted to see anything in his face that could tell her if he still had feelings for her, if this girl was any kind of threat to her daughter.

He looked at her with an intense, indifferent gaze until she turned her face away, swallowing loudly.

He hummed under his breath and left without giving either of her daughters a single glance.

As he left their stronghold he noticed with surprise that Luke was standing in the distance in the rain, quivering all over, looking at him. For a moment they did not take their eyes off each other, all around them lightning and thunder making the ground beneath their feet tremble.

"I want to see my sister." He called out to him in a shaky voice, forcing himself to be confident, and he snorted, turning his head away.

He wanted to humiliate him, to press his face to the mud and remind him that he was a fucking bastard, but he hesitated.

He licked his lips at the thought that if he allowed them to meet perhaps she would forgive him, believe that he was not her enemy, that for her he had not carried out his revenge, for her he had not killed, but had brought to her the man he despised so deeply.

His expression of goodwill.

"Fly after me, my Lord Strong, if you dare." He sneered and moved towards Vhagar, climbing the ropes to her back, settling into his saddle all wet from the rain to take to the skies with her a moment later.

He looked over his shoulder and spotted the figure of a small dragon among the dark clouds; he thought in the back of his mind that his nephew had been a fool, that he had been guided by his emotions rather than reason.

He decided to take him to Vhagar's lair, and then to one of the back entrances to the Red Keep which he used when he wanted no one to notice his disappearance.

After a few hours of travel, he landed on the hill and slid off his dragoness onto the wet grass, watching impatiently as his nephew took his place a piece away, looking at him apprehensively as soon as he jumped down, catching the hilt of his sword. He smirked mischievously at the sight.

"Don't be ridiculous, nephew. Fighting you would be a little challenge. Come." He hissed impatiently, turning and moving ahead, cold and wet just as much as he was.

"How do I know it's not a trap? That she's alive?" He heard his trembling voice behind him, full of fear and uncertainty, from which he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, hoping his niece would appreciate how much he had sacrificed for her, how much he had put himself at risk for her.

"If I wanted to kill you or imprison you, I would, my Lord Strong." He said indifferently, stopping him with a gesture of his hand, seeing the guards walking along the wall above them, looking around; he only moved on when they were out of his sight.

They went inside through a small wooden door covered in ivy, which opened with a loud creak; he looked at him with disapproval, his eyes large, his face pale, he breathed loudly through his mouth, knowing he was a fool.

That if he took him hostage their mother's hands would be tied, deprived of her two children and two dragons she would have to bend the knee.

He contemplated whether to do so, whether it would perhaps end the whole war, but he decided that this one, and only one time, he would do something not for himself, not for his family, but for her.

Proof of how deep was his affection towards her.

"Wait here and be quiet." He growled and moved ahead leaving him behind, passing into the pits beneath the Red Keep itself.

He climbed the cramped side servants' staircase to the corridor into which her chamber was located and came upon the surprised guards, who awoke upon hearing his footsteps and stood at attention.

"Bring me my dry garments and inform the servants that I will take a bath." He said lowly, one of them nodded and immediately moved ahead, intending to obey his order, but the other remained in his place, looking at him uncertainly.

"Has she eaten anything today?" He asked him, and he shook his head, swallowing loudly, terrified apparently that he would blame him for such a state of affairs.

"Inform the cook to prepare some warm soup for her."

"Now, Your Grace? It's the middle of the night…"

"He is to prepare her fucking warm soup, I said." He hissed, the man nodded and also disappeared after a moment around a corner.

He walked into her chamber, and she pulled up in bed with a scream – he saw that her face was red with tears and he felt a squeeze in his throat that perhaps it was because of his letter, that perhaps she still loved him.

However, there was no time to think about that.

"− uncle? − what are you − stop −" She cried out horrified, not understanding what was happening, what he wanted to do, when he took a plain grey hooded coat, pulled her violently by her arm and forced her to stand up, putting it over her shoulders and head.

"− no −" She mumbled, but he pulled her forcibly out of her chamber; after what had happened to her she was still weakened and her resistance was having no effect.

"− I don't want to − you won't make me − I'm going to scream −"

"Be fucking quiet. Don't you want to see your little brother? Hm? I thought so." He growled, gripping his fingers tighter on her arm and heard her quiet squeal of discomfort, however, no more words left her lips.

They walked down the same path he had entered, walking for a while in complete darkness – he knew she had walked barefoot, that she was cold and uncomfortable, but they had no time.

They had to get back before the guards informed anyone that she was not in her chamber.

He let her go as they stepped out into the narrow corridor at the end of which Luke was standing, heard her draw in a loud breath and stop in mid-step, not believing what she was seeing.

They both looked at each other as if they couldn't believe it was really happening, completely shocked.

"Luke!" She cried out and ran towards him pulling the hood off her head – they threw themselves into each other's arms, both bursting into sobs like little children.

He stared at them impassively thinking about giving them a few minutes and then bringing her back and taking her in her bed, his cock swollen and hard, he hadn't experienced relief in days.

"A-are you all right? Did they hurt you? Why do you have a bruise under your eye? What is it?" He asked in a trembling voice taking her wrists in his hands, noticing the freshly healed cuts on them.

Luke looked at him accusingly, but she shook her head, grasping his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, smiling broadly, happy and full of energy, as if awakened from a deep sleep.

"No, it was an accident. Nothing serious." She lied, and he lowered his gaze at the thought that he hadn't spoken a word to Criston Cole since that day, since he found out what he'd done, and the only reason he was still alive was because his mother had begged him to show mercy.

"Please, Aemond." His mother mumbled in a trembling, terrified voice, holding his shoulders, seeing his cold, angry gaze directed at her sworn protector.

"I'm not going to ask a third time, Cole. Did you hit her?" He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling that the bones in his jaw were about to burst with rage, his hands closed into tight fists, his chest rising and falling rapidly in uneven, ragged breaths.

Ser Criston lowered his gaze and swallowed loudly, standing with his hands folded behind him, clearly embarrassed.

"Yes, my Prince. I admit with shame that I lost my temper. I called her an undignified name and slapped her." He mumbled, not daring to look at him; he felt his lips part in a wicked grin that had nothing to do with contentment.

"Did you do it before or after you made her drink moon tea?" He asked in a mocking, matter-of-fact, sharp tone, and saw the glances that Cole and his mother exchanged, horrified that she had already told him everything.

"− Aemond, she cannot carry your child if she is to marry −"

The Queen began but her voice stuck in her throat when he locked her cheeks between his fingers in sudden, violent gesture, digging his fingertips into her skin, Criston Cole twitched not knowing what to do, her pupils dilated in shock and fear.

"I was the one who wanted her to run away with me. For her to give herself to me. I promised her I would marry her. And I fucking meant it!" He growled like an animal and shook her head as if he wanted her to finally realize what he was saying, felt tears of helplessness under his eyelids as he looked at his mother in despair, her gaze changed, she drew in air loudly, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"My Prince, for gods sake, it is your mother!" Exclaimed Criston Cole, and he let her go, panting hard; the Queen took a few steps back, breathing heavily, looking at him in disbelief and pain, holding her hand on her chest, trembling all over.

She did not recognise him.

"Return with me to Dragonstone." He heard Luke's quiet mumble and furrowed his brows, returning with his mind to them; he felt his heart begin to pound like mad, terrified that she would try to run away with him, his hand slipped involuntarily to the dagger fastened to his belt.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that he should have followed his instincts from the very beginning and just kill him.

"N-no. No." She said horrified, seeing in his gaze what he was thinking about, what he was prepared to do; she stroked her little brother's shoulders with hands trembling with fear, smiling again, wanting to comfort him.

"But you go. Tell my mother that I am faithful to her and that I love her very much. Can you do that for me?" She asked softly, her voice breaking as she spoke her last words.

"I won't leave you here. I will never…"

"You will leave. I'm begging you, go now." She muttered, releasing him, but his hands refused to let her go.

"Please."

"I can't, you have to understand me −"

"Time's up." He heard his own low, cold voice, saw her terrified look – she nodded quickly, wanting to be obedient and gentle, wanting him to remain calm, not to do anything under sudden rage.

"Go, Luke." She said.

"I'll set you free, I swear." He mumbled and let go of her hand, escaping at last, disappearing into the rain.

They both let out a loud, terrified breath and looked at each other uncertainly, his hand letting go of the hilt of his dagger. He felt some kind of deep, wonderful relief.

She stayed of her own free will.

He licked his lower lip in satisfaction at the thought that she herself didn't know what she thought of it all, her cheeks red from emotion and tears.

"How did you find him?" She asked quietly, looking at him uncertainly, as if she didn't know what she could expect from him. He hummed under his breath at her question, lifting his chin in a gesture of superiority.

"He came to Storm's End as an envoy." He explained matter-of-factly, approaching her slowly with his heart pounding faster and faster, feeling like his cock was about to explode if he didn't finally touch her.

She swallowed hard at his words, lifting her gaze full of pain and regret to him, her eyebrows arched in a clear sense of helplessness; he thought with delight that he was not indifferent to her.

"Have you made your choice?" She asked quietly, and he smirked, feeling that somehow he had regained his advantage over her, that she was jealous of him.

"Yes."

"Then I'm afraid you can no longer sleep in my chamber. It would not be appropriate." She said softly, not taking her eyes off him, and he felt his heart stop, his lips tighten into a thin line.

"After what I did for you? What I risked for you? This is how you thank me?" He growled, stepping closer to her, feeling burning rage and disappointment that she didn't throw herself happily around his neck, that what he'd done wasn't enough. She furrowed her brow, looking at him with fear and disbelief.

"I'm grateful to you, gods, I really am, but if you think I'm going to be your whore, you're wrong." She mumbled with pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat, his body trembling with disappointment and rage.

"I don't want you to be my whore. I want you to be my wife." He hissed through clenched teeth, gripping his dagger, which he took out in a swift, sure movement. She squealed as he gripped her cheeks violently in his hand, her fingers tightened on his wrist trying fruitlessly to free her from his grasp, her eyes opened wide with terror as he pressed his blade against her lower lip.

"Don't move. Don't fucking move, I said." He growled when she cried out loudly and clenched her eyes shut as he slashed her delicate skin, a thin trickle of blood dripping from the red wound.

He passed his dagger into her hand, clenching it in her palm; he looked at her pleadingly, sliding his fingers into her hair, pressing his forehead against hers in a gesture of desperation.

"− I can't take it anymore − we both know it was always going to end like this −" He muttered stroking her cheeks, her hair, her neck, her shoulders with his hands, feeling that he was in some kind of frenzy.

"− kill me or marry me −" He said in a trembling voice; she drew in the air loudly, her gaze hot, helpless, terrified, full of pain, resentment, desire, regret, anger, exhaustion.

He looked straight into her eyes as her trembling hand lifted his blade, first stopping on the line of his neck, then grasped his cheek in her fingers – a low, surprised groan of delight broke from his throat as he felt the cold, astringent taste of steel on his lips, then the burning pain of sliced skin.

He looked at her dreamily, feeling that what she had done had aroused him even more, that he was about to throw himself at her and rip off everything she was wearing.

He watched her face as he took his dagger in his fingers and with a sure, shallow movement slit the skin of the inside of her hand. She hissed quietly, clenching her lips in discomfort, tears of horror, emotion, sadness and relief running down her cheeks.

He breathed loudly when he observed her as she did the same, creating a burning wound on his hand from which his warm, sticky blood dripped.

He clasped their bleeding palms together, holding the dagger beneath them onto which drop by drop flowed their mingled blood.

There was something at once frightening and divine about the sight, as if in a mysterious and only known to them way the gods of their ancestors had bound them together for eternity.

He lifted the blade up and licked it with a gasp of contentment as he gazed at her face; he hummed with delight as he felt that forbidden, tart taste.

He repeated the act and this time he held the blade to her lips; he felt his cock throb in pleasure in his breeches as her glistening, pink tongue ran over the bloody steel before his eyes.

He released the dagger from his hand and clung to her with his lips, both of them moaning loudly in pain, discomfort and pleasure, not caring about their wounds, realising that this was what their love had been.

Something so painfully fulfilling.

As much as he craved it, as much as he wanted to spend hours with his face between her thighs, he needed to feel her first, her hands helping him quickly unfasten the clasps of his coat and tunic. He untied the material of his breeches and tilted it aside, releasing what was beneath them, his manhood painfully hard and swollen, its tip wet with his own moisture.

He pulled her nightgown up over her thighs and grabbed her in his arms, lifting her, her legs immediately closing around his waist, her hands entwined in his hair and pressed his face against her puffy, sweet mouth.

He groaned low into her throat, meeting the tip of his tongue against hers, licking her and sucking her lips; they both clamped their hands tightly on their bodies as the fat head of his cock began to push against her leaking folds from below.

"− let me in − let me in, sweet wife −" He muttered between the loud dance of their tongues, teeth and saliva. She squirmed loudly as he slowly slid into her with a sigh of pleasure, her insides and thighs wet with her moisture, making him open her wide with one sure thrust of his hips.

"− Aemond −" She cried out sweetly as he began to root into her with thirsty, desperate thrusts, their whole bodies twitching and vibrating, her hands roaming over his cheeks, hair, neck and back, her throbbing, hot, weeping cunt clenching around him and sucking him inside, refusing to let him go, forcing him to pound into her with more brutality.

"− fucking mine −" He hissed out, tightening his fingers on her soft flesh, leaving a trail of blood on her skin and nightgown, slamming into her violently with his cock, thick and swollen with almost painful arousal.

He was panting loudly along with her, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to his peak, his thighs slapping again and again against her buttocks with a shameless splat of her moisture, her scent, her closeness, her whimpers filled his entire mind, leaving only bliss.

"− g-gods, uncle −" She mewled, tilting her head back, moaning like a whore and yet like a saint, sweet and loud, as if she was surprised at how quickly and suddenly fulfilment shook her body.

He felt her juices running down his thighs, soaking his cock; he sighed with some kind of relief when he finally let go, filling her to the brim with his warm seed, her walls squeezing him greedily.

"− fuck-fuck-fucckkk −" He gasped clenching his teeth, stunned by the pleasure and fulfilment that enveloped his body, his muscles suddenly soft, his body numb.

He fell to his knees with her and heard her squeal in terror, her legs and hands embracing him tightly; he rooted into her for a moment longer with sloppy, slow thrusts of his hips, wanting to savour the fact that he felt her again.

That she was his wife.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla

[megalony]

This Is Fate- Part 6

I'm so happy to be posting the next part of my Dark! Evan Buckley series, thank you for all the amazing feedback.

I can't wait to know what you all think to the little twist.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay

@5hundreddaysofsummer @soryuwifeyxx @targaryenluvs @xobarbie

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Eddie is surprised when his little sister comes to LA, pregnant, and asks to stay with him. She needs a fresh start away from her ex, but things take a bad turn when she finds out her ex works with her brother. And he won't let her go so easily.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With his bag shrugged on his shoulder, Eddie trudged across the car park towards the main entrance of the station.

He could hear the same mantra he had been telling himself all night, going round and round in his head like a broken record.

Don't start a fight. Don't let him get to you. Play nice, for everyone's sake.

Those words circulated around Eddie's head like it was the only thing he could understand. He couldn't start a fight with Evan at work. He couldn't let anything Evan might say get a rise out of him or gain a reaction. Eddie had to be the bigger person and play it safe.

He didn't want the rest of the team finding out that Evan was the baby's father. If the team knew, they would try and push Eddie and Evan closer together and make them seem like brothers. Like before. Before this mess got in the way. And Eddie didn't want to be anywhere near Evan. If the team knew, it would be worse for (Y/n). They would try and see her around Evan or he would try and get closer to her, like the leech he was starting to become.

If no one knew, Eddie could handle this situation himself. He could either help Evan to be himself again, to be calm and considerate around (Y/n) rather than overbearing and controlling. Or he would have to do something like involving the police in order to keep his sister and niece safe.

Everything was going to be easier if the team were none the wiser to what was happening.

Eddie took a deep breath as he walked into the station, preparing himself for whatever mood Evan was going to be in. He had no idea whether his former friend was going to be cool and brisk or if he would try and cosy up to Eddie and act like they were still the best of friends.

He was a little taken back to find Evan was already here. Eddie was early, which meant that Evan was even earlier.

Evan was stood between the truck and the ambulance, a tender smile on his face and his arms folded over his chest as he stood with the team. But what caught Eddie's attention was the fact that Evan had his uniform on, but his bag was slung over his shoulder and remnants of grime and dirt were stuck to his face.

How long had be been here? Had he already started his shift? Why did he look like he had been here for hours?

Eddie didn't miss the way that Evan shivered when he caught sight of him. Was he finally starting to relent and give in? Was he finally realising that Eddie would go to the ends of the Earth to keep him away from his sister? If Evan was starting to get nervous around him then Eddie knew he was doing his job and that things might finally go in his and (Y/n)'s favour, for once.

He tried not to hurry his steps as he approached the rest of the team, but Eddie found himself frowning.

Evan stepped away from him. The taller man pulled his shoulders in and adverted his gaze down to the floor like he was ashamed or suddenly fearful over Eddie. He gripped his bag tighter on his shoulder and stood that little bit closer to Hen who had her hand on his arm and a comforting smile on her face.

"I'd better head home, I- I'll catch you all later." Evan rubbed the heel of his boot into the floor like he was digging a hole and he continued to avoid Eddie's confused gaze.

There was a light blush dusting his face when Evan looked over at Hen and smiled softly at her as she squeezed his arm.

"We're all happy for you, Buck." It was clear Hen's words were referring to whatever conversation they'd been having before Eddie turned up. Leaving Eddie stood in the dark, totally confused as to what was going on and the topic that they had been talking about which had clearly become stilted upon his arrival.

Evan nodded, patted her hand and walked away from her and Chimney as the three of them had been stood chatting for a while now before Eddie turned up. When he went to walk away, Eddie reached out and tried to grab his arm.

His touch wasn't cold or malicious like it had been before and he wasn't about to yank him back or start a fight here. He just wanted to know where Evan was going. He should have been on shift the same as Eddie today and although Eddie hadn't been best pleased about having to be civil, he preferred having Evan right where he could see him. As long as their shifts aligned, it meant Eddie would watch him at all times and then be with (Y/n) so there was no danger of Evan getting to her and doing anything he shouldn't.

But the moment Eddie softly held Evan's upper arm, the taller man shuddered and stepped back. He was quick to wrench his arm out of Eddie's grasp as if he had been scolded by him and he actually flinched.

A bewildered look passed over Eddie's face like an oncoming storm and he frowned in utter confusion.

"Buck, what th-"

"Have a good shift, guys." Evan dipped his head, visibly quaking as he stepped away from Eddie and proceeded to hurry out the station.

What was going on? What had Eddie missed?

Eddie twisted to look at his other teammates, but he was surprised to find Chimney had already walked away and was heading up towards the kitchen. He hadn't even said hello to Eddie, he hadn't said one word or even looked at him and he was walking away. And when he looked across at Hen, unease written plainly on his features, he frowned.

She walked past him with a stoic expression and her chin tilted up like she wasn't going to give him the time of day. What had he done to get the cold shoulder?

Their last shift had been fine, they had all been laughing so much Eddie almost pulled a muscle. That had been a good shift because Evan had to hang back at the station while the rest of them went out on the majority of the calls. Eddie didn't have to deal with him and they had all been having a laugh. It had been calming. So what had changed since then?

"Eddie, a word in my office please?"

The sight of Bobby made a momentary feeling of ease wash over Eddie, right until he looked at his Captain. Bobby looked uneasy. Clearly something had happened this morning and Eddie needed filling in on the situation.

He nodded, dumping his bag on the bench beside him before he followed Bobby down the long corridor towards his office. There was something in Bobby's voice that made Eddie feel like he was heading to the principal's office, about to get told off.

Why did he have a sudden feeling that this had something to do with Evan?

He shut the door behind him and moved to sit down opposite Bobby's desk. His eagle eyes watching his Captain sit down. Bobby looked perplexed. He was sat up straight in his chair and both hands were fiddling around with the papers on his desk like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Where's Buck gone, the shift's just started." Eddie looked down at his watch, just to make sure that he hadn't overslept or that his watch wasn't late. But he was early like he always was to shift, which meant Evan had to of been here for a while. He had changed his shift or swapped with someone.

"He's done an early shift, I've modified the rota because he wanted a few shift changes."

"Okay… why am I here, what's going on?"

Whatever this was, Eddie didn't like it. He could see in Bobby's expression that he was uncomfortable and he didn't want to be having whatever conversation this was about to become. Something had definitely happened while Eddie had been off for the last three days. He had missed something important, he could feel it.

He leaned his elbows on the armrests and clasped his hands together in front of him, trying not to sit too straight or slouch down in case it gave the wrong impression. Although he wasn't sure what kind of impression he should be giving when he had no idea what was going on.

Bobby danced his eyes around the desk, planting both palms down against the cold wood before he looked over at Eddie. "Buck came to talk to me yesterday, he's worried about you, Eddie."

"About me?" Well that wasn't right for a start. There was no reason Evan would be worried about him. They had been arguing, Evan was entirely in the wrong. The only thing he should be worried about was whether or not Eddie was going to stand in his way and stop him from seeing (Y/n) and his daughter.

But that was a personal matter, nothing to do with work or Bobby or the station.

"I'll be honest with you Eddie, he's shown me the texts, and I heard about the argument at (Y/n)'s scan last week. Buck's worried this might cause problems at work and frankly, so am I."

What the Hell was Buck up to?!

Why had he been talking to Bobby about this? Why had he shown Bobby their messages? If Bobby scrolled back far enough he would see all the crazy shit Evan had said when Eddie riled him up last week. He had said all sorts. He loved (Y/n), he wasn't letting her go. She wasn't taking his daughter who was his and his alone. No one would stop him from seeing them both or being with (Y/n).

The amount of things Evan had said were more worrying than Eddie telling him to calm down or stay away from (Y/n). Why weren't they talking about that instead of what Eddie had said in anger and truth? It seemed like Evan couldn't tell the truth if his life depended on it.

"Bobby, you don't understand-"

"I know he's in a relationship with (Y/n), he's been very open about that, and about how you're protective over her which is okay. But I can't have this causing problems with the pair of you at work. Buck asked for a pattern change and I've agreed and set it in place, but I don't want anymore problems occurring."

Eddie could feel his heart stuttering in his chest, forgetting what pace it was supposed to be working at, causing his body to shake and his chest to seize up. Each heartbeat thumped against his ribs and caused a horrid jolt to course through his veins.

He scratched his hands up and down his thighs and tilted his head down so he could focus on looking at the frays in the knees of his jeans and count every breath he took.

This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. Evan was twisting this to his advantage, he couldn't do this!

"What about him? Bobby this isn't just me fucking around, Buck's done some shit too."

"That may be, but you're the one sending threatening messages to him Eddie. You pushed him in front of witnesses at the hospital and you've been calling him non stop and telling him to stay away from (Y/n), which isn't your choice. He's very worried about you, and so am I because if this continues I'll have to give you a warning or go to senior management."

Oh no.

No, no no, he can't be doing this!

Evan had jumped the gun. He had gotten the head start on Eddie. He had set this up from the very beginning, he knew exactly what he was doing and how to cheat the system.

He was starting the lies that Eddie was the one with the anger problem, that Eddie was the one instigating the trouble. If Evan went down this path, if he told Bobby first and tried to get evidence to prove his point, then Eddie would be stuck.

He was stuck. Eddie couldn't go to Bobby in confidence and explain that Evan was (Y/n)'s stalker. He couldn't tell Bobby that Evan had frightened (Y/n), followed her, controlled her and was still trying to bend her to his will. Anything Eddie tried to say from this point onwards would look like he was going after Evan, that he was persecuting him for being with (Y/n).

The truth wouldn't matter because Evan had set the stage. He had told Bobby and he had clearly told the team something too in order to turn them against Eddie. They would think Eddie was being the protective big brother, that he was spiting Evan for being with his sister.

They weren't going to believe Eddie because Evan was playing the victim and anything he said was going to take precident over whatever accusations Eddie started.

If Eddie wanted to tell the truth, he was going to have to find all the texts, he was going to make to get (Y/n) to talk to Bobby or to the police as well so Evan wouldn't have any other lies to tell.

Evan had made himself the victim.

"Fine. I'd rather not work with him anyway." His hands slammed down on the arms of the chair and he moved to stand up, but he paused when Bobby stood up too.

He wasn't going to argue. He wasn't going to sit here and be told he was being threatening and evasive and picking on his former friend, when Evan was the one to blame. Evan had set this up like an insurance policy to keep himself safe and make sure he got his clutches onto (Y/n). Well Eddie wasn't going to play the game.

This was why Evan had run off like a skittish animal out of the station, he was playing the sympathy game. Pretending he was worried about being around Eddie, acting as if Eddie might tackle him so the team felt sorry for him.

"Eddie, this is serious."

"So reprimand me."

"I'm not doing this to persecute you, this is just a chat, no warnings or written warnings or anything like that. But I have to talk to you because if this is going to be a problem, if this behaviour happens at work you'll have to be on opposite shifts and I'll have to give you a warning."

"What is it you think I've done?" The way his upper lip curled made Bobby sigh. "I didn't punch him or start a fight, Bobby. He was out of line at the hospital so I pushed him away from (Y/n). That's it and that had nothing to do with work, if he can grow up then I can be professional."

It hadn't been a fight, Evan was twisting this to make himself the vulnerable, persecuted victim.

After (Y/n)'s scan, Evan had attached himself to her like a leech and he tried to tell her she could go home with him, again. Eddie wasn't having any of it and so he pushed Evan back. That was all he did, he didn't punch him or shout at him or cause a scene in the waiting room. He pushed him and walked out with (Y/n) before Evan could follow after them.

He should of hit him. At least that might have gotten the message through Evan's skull and made him realise he was playing with fire.

"You both need to sort this out between you because I won't have this affecting your work."

What would of happened if Eddie had come to Bobby first? What would Bobby have done if he learned the truth? Would he have talked to (Y/n), reassured her he would watch Evan and make sure he didn't spread anymore lies or try and get close to her? Would Bobby have taken their side?

Maybe Evan would have a note on his file by now that he was acting out and was becoming a danger. Maybe he would have been talked to by higher management. Maybe Athena would have gotten involved.

If the team could see this through (Y/n)'s eyes, if they could see why Eddie was trying to protect her, maybe they would agree. Maybe they would shun Evan instead of Eddie and do whatever they could to make him stop, to make him act properly and go about this in the right way.

Eddie would never know how the team would react, because the damage had already been done. By Evan. Again.

"Eddie, a piece of advice? Whatever the problem is here, you can't change the fact that Buck and (Y/n) are having a kid together. He's going to be in your life and you both have to find out how to work with this. Avoiding each other isn't going to work forever."

With a huff, Eddie walked out and slammed the door behind him, relishing in the way the wall shuddered at his force and his presence. He could feel his hands balling up into fists at his sides. All he was doing was trying to protect his family, and he was about to get reprimanded for it.

No, avoiding each other wasn't going to work forever. But Eddie wasn't going to let Evan have his own way and set the rules. He would keep his sister safe from Evan's clutches, in any way he could.

***

A headache began to form behind (Y/n)'s eyes when she blearily looked around the living room.

She had fallen asleep.

It was getting harder and harder for (Y/n) to manage some sleep nowadays, she spent most nights tossing and turning or just staring up at the ceiling, waiting in vain for her mind to get so tired it shut itself down.

She wasn't used to taking naps during the day, but she was relieved she had managed to doze off for a while. It would do her some good to get some sleep, and it would help the baby too. (Y/n) knew all the worry recently wasn't doing her any good, it was making her feel ill and making her sluggish at work. A bit of rest might make her feel better.

It took some effort to push up from the cushion she had been dozing on and sit upright on the sofa. She heaved her legs back down so her feet were touching the floor and ran her fingers through her hair, moving it so it didn't look as if she had just been dragged through a hedge.

It dawned on her why she had suddenly woken up from her nap she didn't remember taking. She could hear an engine revving outside.

Chris was home.

Pushing up from the sofa, she clicked her spine into place and moved her hand to cradle her stomach.

Evan had brought him home. Despite Eddie vowing not to let Evan near Chris or (Y/n), he had given in when he realised not seeing Evan was going to crush his son. Chris had asked when he could see Evan next and he was still anxious about not wanting (Y/n) to leave. If he suddenly stopped seeing the one other person he relied on, he would know something was wrong.

Eddie had set the rules in place. Evan could take him out to the cinema today and go for a drive, but Chris had to be home for tea time. Evan couldn't come in, he couldn't try any tricks or make (Y/n) uncomfortable or say anything that would unsettle Chris.

He knew Chris would be safe with Evan. The possessive side was only there for (Y/n) and it would only flare up around her or the baby, it wouldn't extend to Chris. Unless Evan was parted from him too. Keeping contact was best for the pair of them and Eddie was willing to let it continue because he knew Evan hadn't done anything to worry or upset Chris like he had done with (Y/n).

Moving her hand to the armchair, (Y/n) used it as leverage and pushed herself into the hall. She padded barefoot towards the front door but she took a step back when it swung open and Chris came trotting in, as usual.

Her lips curved into a smile as he kicked off his shoes and hung up his bag and she felt her heart bubbling up when he set his sights on her and grinned. But (Y/n) could feel her smile quivering, desperate to fall into a frown when she realised who else was in the doorway.

Chris had his hand tightly enveloped in Evan's and he pulled Evan inside as if he was a dog on a leash.

Evan kicked the door shut behind him and shrugged out of his shoes, the usual habit when he came over. He knew things would change, he had never felt like a guest in the Diaz household, but now he was going to be an unwelcomed visitor.

It was a good thing Evan knew Eddie wasn't home and that Chris wanted him here. The ten year old had practically dragged him in without asking, simply presuming Evan would come in for a while like he usually did, and Evan was more than willing to come in because he knew (Y/n) was home.

Without Eddie here to guard her, Evan could be as close to her as he liked without consequence.

"Hi baby," (Y/n) watched as Chris finally let go of Evan's hand so he could barrell over to (Y/n) and bind his arms around her waist. He glued himself to her front, trying to be mindful of her bump that was now in the way and he giggled when she leaned down to kiss his hair. Ruffling his curls in the process, which made him squeeze her tighter.

(Y/n) was rather relieved that Evan had stuck to the agreement. She knew Eddie had been worried that he might try and take liberties. That he would keep Chris out later than he was told or take him back to his place or just do something to push the boundaries that he shouldn't.

But Eddie had been firm, and he had been less than kind when he had a quiet word with Evan after work.

He didn't care what lies Evan told to the team, but he explained that Evan couldn't get away with anything. If he took liberties with Chris, then Eddie would make sure Evan wouldn't get close to his daughter once she was born.

The threat had been enough to rattle Evan's cage and make him agree to any terms placed in front of him.

"Did you two have fun?" (Y/n) ran her fingers through Chris's hair as he continued to hug her, sticking to her side like they were now permanently glued together.

She tried not to, but she couldn't help but dance her eyes over to Evan. He had taken his shoes off. He had shut the door behind him. He wasn't intending on leaving yet. He had been told to drop Chris off and go, whenever he did that he would usually sit in the jeep and wait until Chris got inside, then he would drive off. Clearly when Chris had asked him if he was coming in, Evan took the invitation without a second thought.

She could feel her heart jumping into her throat when Evan grinned at her. He looked so casual, stood there with his hip leaning against the side table and one hand on his hip.

And (Y/n) didn't miss the way that Evan's eyes dragged up and down her frame, lingering in many places, as long as he liked because they both knew no one else was home. No one was going to tell him to back off. If he got closer, (Y/n) wouldn't have the nerve to tell him to move because Chris was here and she couldn't upset him.

"Yeah, he loved the film." Evan's voice was silky smooth and he reached up to drag his hand across his freshly shaved jaw in that manner which hid his smirk behind his hand.

"You didn't tell me!"

"Tell you what, baby?" Tilting her head to one side, (Y/n) narrowed her eyes as a quizzical smile played on her lips.

What hadn't she told Chris? Had she forgotten to mention something, about the movie perhaps? It had to be something good because she could feel her nephew vibrating against her, practically bouncing up and down like he was about to explode.

"That you and uncle Buck are having a baby! That means he's really gonna be my uncle now, right?"

A cold shiver cast down (Y/n)'s spine as dread started to pool in her stomach where the baby was livening up.

He hadn't?

He had. One look at that devilish smirk on Evan's face told (Y/n) he had gone and done something she wished he hadn't. He had made things ten times worse, just to play the game to his advantage.

He had told Chris the baby was his.

Evan had cemented himself in the family and made sure nothing could happen without him knowing. By telling Chris, he was affirming himself and his place in (Y/n)'s life. If Chris knew, he wouldn't let this go. He would let Evan in all the time, he would call him his uncle, he would love that his two favourite people were seemingly in a relationship and having a baby.

If (Y/n) even thought about leaving again, Chris would undoubtedly let anything slip to Evan. He would be his eyes and ears when (Y/n) wasn't in his sights.

This was Evan's way of making sure he was in his daughter's life. They couldn't keep him away without horridly distressing Chris, and neither Eddie nor (Y/n) would want to do that unless strictly necessary. They would have to let Evvan be involved with his child, they would have to let him hang around and take Chris out and be close to (Y/n). They didn't have a choice anymore.

Chris would tell the team, he would tell his friends, he would tell anyone and everyone that Evan and (Y/n) were in a relationship. This worked everything entirely to Evan's advantage.

(Y/n) fought back a shiver when Evan walked over to them. She stiffened when his arm curved around her waist so his hand rested on her lower back, and she stayed completely motionless when he pressed a deep kiss to her temple.

"It sure does, buddy."

He had officially integrated himself and rooted (Y/n) here. She couldn't go anywhere or leave with the baby without causing a fight with Evan and making waves through their whole friendship group.

"L- let's start dinner." (Y/n) shakily squeezed Chris in another little hug before she detached herself from him.

She glanced up at Evan as she pulled out of his arms and the silent debate between them was won when Chris waved Evan to follow. Muttering a soft "You staying?" Which sounded more like a command than a question.

"How could I refuse?"

They both knew why he was staying. Eddie was on the late shift, he wouldn't be home until roughly eight o'clock tonight. There was three hours to play with. Three whole hours where Evan could be in his girl's company and wrap himself around her and kiss her and talk to her freely without having to look over his shoulder or hold himself back to please Eddie.

Without him here, Evan felt like he had had the shackles taken off his wrists and he was a free man. He had been released from his prison that had restrained him to the point of insanity. Not being able to hold his girl drove him mad. Not being able to reach out for her stomach and feel his baby wriggling had him on the verge of tears.

Not talking to her or holding her close or pinning her beneath him had him in a state of desperation Evan had never felt before. (Y/n) felt the pair of them following after her as she headed into the kitchen and washed her hands. She had prepared most of the food earlier, all she had to do was put everything on the stove and cook the mince.

She forced herself to smile and handed the pan of chopped vegetables over to Chris so he could put them on the stove.

"Does this… does this mean you'll move out? You'll live with uncle Buck now?" Chris divided his attention between them, looking from one to the other as (Y/n) stood near the sink and Evan stood behind him.

Evan placed one hand on the counter and the other on Chris's shoulder so he could lean down and kiss the top of his head. Chris was unknowingly doing all the work here for him. If (Y/n) said yes, she wouldn't be able to back out. If she said no, she would have to explain to Chris why, and make the situation more complicated.

"I- I suppose… I don't think that cot will fit in my room here, do you?" (Y/n) wasn't trapping herself in this conversation. She would make light of it. After all, Chris knew she had been looking at flats. She could always tell him that once she got her own flat, that she and Evan were going to co-parent together but didn't have to live together.

But she knew she couldn't stay here forever, no matter how badly she wanted to. She needed a place of her own, for her and the baby. She couldn't stay here with Chris and Eddie and she could hardly stay in that room and squash a cot in there with her.

Eddie had gone out with her to get a few things, considering (Y/n) had barely anything ready for the baby. She had put it off long enough, so now she had bought a crib and stroller and some clothes, just a few essentials.

"We'll have to get sorted soon, she'll be here before we know it."

Evan's words rung true and (Y/n) tried not to pull away or make any sudden movements when Evan shuffled to stand beside her. The affection in his voice had her eyes welling over with tears.

She did her best to stop her hands from shaking as she put the mince on the stove and started to stir the pan. Her eyes intently focused on the cooking while Chris watched intently, and she felt Evan's presence at her side more than ever.

Especially when she felt his hand drag across her stomach. She stayed still, letting Evan trail his fingertips along her bump, clearly waiting for a kick or some sign that their daughter was awake. (Y/n) didn't like to stop him because she knew Evan wasn't trying to play games, he was with his words, but not these kind of touches. He wanted to feel a kick, he wanted to feel her move and feel involved. (Y/n) didn't have the heart to stop him.

"So, you've got a few things ready for her, then?"

"Hm?" (Y/n) dragged her gaze away from Evan's hand that didn't leave her stomach and looked up at him, confusion glazing over in her eyes until she realised what he meant. "Oh, yeah, not much. Cot, carrier, pram, that's it I think. There's still heaps more to do."

Her attention shifted back to the cooking, but she could feel her mind drifting away and trying so hard to concentrate on Evan's movements.

The way he shifted to stand behind her like he was pinning her in between the cooker and himself. The way his chest pressed down against her back when he leaned over her shoulder. And how his left hand curved over her hip while his right hand continuted to feather across her stomach so softly she felt like she was imagining the touch.

"I'll take you next week, to get whatever else we need." His lips pressed against the side of her temple and he nudged his nose into her hairline, staying there for a few seconds. She could feel his even breaths fanning against her skin and she didn't mistake the way his arms tightened around her like he was caging her in.

She wanted to refuse. She wanted to say no, but how could she? This was his baby too. (Y/n) would feel cruel going out and getting everything without so much as consulting Evan on a few things. She wasn't doing this alone no matter how she had tried in the beginning. Doing this alone had mainly consisted of acting like she wasn't pregnant to begin with.

"Can I come with you? I can find her some Disney stuff." The excitement in Chris's voice was hard to resist and he planted his hands down on the counter as he began swaying from his heels to his toes.

"Sure buddy. She's definitely gonna be a Disney princess."

(Y/n) found herself nodding when Chris looked up at her. At least if Chris went with them, (Y/n) would feel moderately safe and at ease. Evan would never do anything inappropriate in front of Chris, and he would have to watch what he said because they all knew Chris retained information like an encyclopaedia.

If he tagged along with them, Evan couldn't be too touchy-feely with (Y/n) and if she asked him to take her home, he couldn't just disagree and take her to his place, something he had done before in the past.

And it would stop (Y/n) from overly panicking if someone went with her to buy the things she needed for the baby. Even if that did happen to be Evan. It wouldn't feel so daunting with the pair of them going with her.

"Okay, why don't you go set up a game to beat Buck before dinner, hm?" She dragged her fingers through Chris's curls and ticked her head in the direction of the doorway.

Chris didn't have to stay and help, he could go and play a game and (Y/n) knew he would want Evan to play a game or two with him. At least if they played before dinner, (Y/n) wouldn't have to argue with them both to get Evan out of the house. If they played after dinner, Evan might never leave. And he certainly couldn't be here when Eddie came home.

"I'll be there in a minute," Evan muttered softly, patting Chris's shoulder before he was hurrying out of the room to find a suitable game for them to play.

When he turned back in her direction, Evan tilted his head to one side and moved so his front was facing her. He loved the nervous smile he could see on (Y/n)'s face like she didn't know what to do with herself or how to look art him. He loved the way she shivered when she looked up at him and when he stepped closer, she had nowhere to move.

Her hips pressed back into the counter that her hands reached behind her to grab so she could keep herself steady. She didn't seem to know what to do when Evan moved to stand between her legs, pressing his abdomen into her bump and clamping his hands down on the counter either side of her.

"We need to think of a name, for her." Evan cast his eyes down before he looked back up at (Y/n), darting his tongue out to trace across his lips like a predator sizing up its meal.

(Y/n) tilted her head back, trying to breathe properly but she couldn't with how close Evan was to her. He was caging her in, pinning her into the counter and engulfing her like he always did, caging her in. Letting her know she was his. They were both his.

She heard Evan murmur "Something beautiful," but she could barely hear his voice over the pounding of her heart when his hands left the counter and moved to hold her hips instead.

His fingers dug into her hips and (Y/n) shivered when Evan tilted his temple down into hers. The look in his eyes was like a burning intensity. He hadn't been this close to her in a while. At the scan last week he had kissed her, but those touches had been fleeting. He couldn't display too much PDA and make the midwife uncomfortable, and the after Eddie caught him, he couldn't get within ten feet of (Y/n).

But now, he had no one to stop him and no one to try and act civil around. He was doing what he could when he could, and the way he held her made (Y/n) feel like he was a starved man being shown a feast.

"Bonnie." The name rolled off (Y/n)'s lips in a quiet whisper and her trembling hands began tapping the counter, unsure what to do with herself.

At least with Chris in the living room, there was no chance of Evan trying anything too seductive or carrying her to the bedroom like he had done a few months ago. He could only do so much with their nephew being in the next room and still within earshot of them.

She liked that name. It was cute, it was a name that meant beautiful and it was one (Y/n) could see herself calling the little girl who would soon be in her arms. And when she saw Evan's lips stretch into a smile, she knew he liked it too.

"Bonnie Buckley." He grinned like the devil but the undertone in his voice spoke a thousand volumes. She was having his last name. Evan knew what Eddie would say. He would want her to have (Y/n)'s last name, he wouldn't want Evan having any rights or claims to her, but that wasn't happening.

Evan would do what he had to in order to make sure his girl had his last name, and he was going on the birth certificate whether Eddie liked it or not. He didn't care what he had to do or what charms he had to put on (Y/n) to bend her to his will. This was non-negotiable.

(Y/n) found herself nodding along to the name, but she choked on her breath when Evan's lips found hers and his hands slipped beneath her shirt. His lips were bruising, but his touch wasn't as forceful or as desperate as last week. He didn't have to rush and he didn't have to be tender or hold himself back. No one was here to watch or stop him.

He wasted no time sliding his tongue past her lips and taking the last of the oxygen she had stored in her lungs, leaving (Y/n) gasping against his lips.

It didn't bother him when her hands dug into his arms and when she tried to push him back, Evan just locked his frame and leant into her. His hands squeezed her tight into his embrace and when (Y/n) finally broke their lips apart, she twisted her head to the side.

He didn't like that. He didn't like her looking away from him. Why couldn't she just admit she wanted him half as much as he wanted her? Why couldn't she give in to his advances? He was starving from being away from her. She had to feel the same.

He moved one hand to grip her chin and twist her head back to face him, causing her eyes to widen and her plump lips to part. That was all he needed to dive down for another kiss.

"T-the-" (Y/n) tried to speak against his lips, but Evan only kissed her deeper. He seemed to understand though, when (Y/n) let go of his arm to waft her hand near the stove. The vegetables were fine, but the mince was going to burn.

Evan took care of that. He unlatched his hand from her chin and expertly turned off the gas, dumping the pan on the side so it wouldn't burn and the food would cool. He would cook it later, it could wait. It wouldn't take long to cook, and Evan was busy.

Shivers tore down to (Y/n)'s does and she felt like her arms were turning numb and cold when Evan wormed both hands beneath her shirt. He roamed his fingertips across her bump a few times, tickling her skin and feeling the way the baby wriggled and came to life at his touch. It made his lips smile against hers and the excitement thrilled him and made him sink his teeth down into (Y/n)'s lip, making her jump against him.

(Y/n) tried again to nudge Evan backwards because he had her pinned into a corner. Her lip felt bruised from both his kissing and the way he sank his teeth down into her lip with fever.

She managed to push him back two feet, but her hands quickly grabbed his shoulders to steady herself when Evan leaned down into her and knocked her off balance.

His lips left hers and dove down to attach to the side of her neck and (Y/n) squeaked when Evan hastily wormed his hands beneath the waistband of her leggings to hold her bum. His fingers dug into her flesh and he pulled her that little bit closer until there was no space between them and every ridge and curve was pressed into him.

"Evan- Evan no." (Y/n) twisted from side to side, but it did nothing to deter the man in front of her that seemed like an animal unleashed.

She could feel him chuckling into her throat, grazing his teeth along her skin and biting hickeys into her neck every now and then as he roamed around every part of her skin he could find. He was exploring her like he was charting a map out of her.

"Why? Big brother isn't here to stop me. Don't you want me, baby?" That tone of voice had (Y/n)'s knees quivering. That was the voice he used when he wanted something.

That was the tone Evan used when he asked her if she was seeing someone from work. It was the voice he used to ask her who she was texting or where she had been after work. And it was the voice he used to butter her up when he told her she was being silly for not believing him over someone else.

Evan knew how to twist every tone into something sugary and how to get his words just right so (Y/n) either felt like she was going against him or like she couldn't respond at all. She didn't want to upset him or make him angry. She would rather give in and go along with what he said, like always, than start a fight when she didn't have anyone here- like Eddie- to stand in her corner and fight with her.

"Chris… he-"

"He isn't watching. Let me hold my girls."

(Y/n) tightened her hands on his shoulders, but she didn't move. She didn't say anything. She let Evan continue tracing his lips along her neck and squeezing her flesh tighter and tighter until he was surely going to bruise her and leave hand indents in her skin.

When he found his way back to her lips and took them like ownership, (Y/n) didn't respond, but she didn't pull away either. He was holding her so tightly it almost hurt, but the yearning in his embrace was unmistakeable. He'd missed her. He wanted to hold her. He loved her and their baby, so much. Probably too much.

Evan smiled into the kiss and relented just a little, kissing her with more passion and a bit less fever than before. He was gentler when he glided his tongue across her lower lip and he let her take in a breath so she didn't go lightheaded. He loved the way all he had to do was lean forward and (Y/n) was tilting back in his arms, clinging to him tighter so she didn't fall. Just like he was holding her over the edge of a cliff and she was hanging onto him like he was her salvation.

He loved the way her stomach curved and moulded against his abdomen and let him feel the round of kicking their baby girl was giving out.

He loved how all he had to do was put on his voice and hold her and (Y/n) gave in.

"My girls," He murmured against her lips, feeling (Y/n) quiver and melt into his touch when he slithered one hand around the side of her thigh to the base of her stomach. The elastic of her leggings stayed tightly digging into his wrist, but all Evan could concentrate on was his fingers dancing across (Y/n)'s bump and the way it caused (Y/n) to shiver and twist in his arms.

And with Eddie still being at work for another two or three hours, it gave Evan plenty of time to work on (Y/n). She had already given in to Chris and told him she would be moving out. Evan was going to pull whatever tricks he had to so (Y/n) relented and moved in with him.

A gasp caught at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she tried not to let her knees buckle when Evan cooed "I love you, both of you." Into her mouth.

She knew anything she did was going to be inevitable now. Evan was going to get his own way; he always did.

He would feign ignorance. He would tell her it was for the best that she moved in with him. He would be on his best behaviour, he would win her over and make her tell Eddie that this was the only option. They would co-parent their baby together, they had to do this together.

Evan would agree to anything. He would let Eddie come round every day and check on him. He would let Eddie set as many rules as he wanted if it got Evan's girls living with him, where they belonged. Eddie couldn't refuse, not when everyone thought he and (Y/n) were a couple and Eddie could keep a check on them both. Maddie would be round to help (Y/n) anyway, she was going to be a sister to (Y/n).

Evan needed his sister to be on (Y/n)'s side, to care for her and help her so (Y/n) could lean on Maddie instead of Eddie. Maddie was on Evan's side, and Eddie was becoming a problem.

Eddie would give in. He wouldn't have a choice.

[dovveri]

the right reasons

bachelorette masterlist - part 1 ▸ part 2 ▸ part 3 ▸ part 4 ▸ part 5 ▸ part 7

synopsis: final stretch of the season. home visits.

warnings: implied sex

w/c: 3.4k

a/n: apologies for late update i have been laid on my literal deathbed with sickness and the brain juices have basically run out for this series so this is a short update to get them flowing again and hopefully i can wrap it up soon 🙏 ty for the support as always!

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

the next few days are hectic with house visits. because of the contract you had both signed, and the fact that the entire nation has been invested with sana's journey to find love, it was a given that sana wouldn't be able to just drop out of show. that didn't mean she didn't try, in fact you had to pull her back from calling all the lawyers in the district to break her contract, insisting that it was fine to see the show through and that you were going to be there for her no matter what. it took a few more assurances, and a couple rounds of sex, kisses, and promised cuddles before she reluctantly agreed to continue filming the upcoming home visits.

jiwon's family was first. you had both met her younger siblings and her several nieces and nephews that were very young. they were all very sweet and it was adorable watching jiwon entertain the young ones.

fortunately, the classic 'father figure that gives the intruder the i'll kill you if you hurt her speech' wasn't present because it seemed jiwon served as that person for her younger siblings. though her younger sister was a little skeptical at first, she easily warmed up when she saw how great sana was with her kids.

sana and jiwon wrapped up the night with a private talk, one which sana didn't share with you, but you were learning to trust her, even though it still looked like she was dating 4 people and soon to choose the love of her life, you had to trust that it was going to be you after it all ended.

jacky's family was next except since most of his family was back in australia, you actually just had a nice dinner at jacky's apartment with eunji who jacky had nominated as his family stand-in. you had apologised profusely to eunji for not being a better friend and not being there for her on the night she was eliminated but she laughed at you and rolled her eyes, saying it was completely fine. she was also friendly with sana who was a little anxious seeing her again so soon after practically rejecting her on national television, but eunji was extremely cool, and they got along even better as friends.

if you ignored the cameras set up everywhere and the producers running in and out, it was a pretty normal night between 4 friends. you had enjoyed dinner made by both jacky and eunji, drunk soju, sung bad karaoke on jacky's home-installed karaoke television set, and played nintendo switch games all night.

in typical bachelor fashion, jacky and sana also had their own private talk on the balcony towards the end of the night, although it was a little silly watching the producers and camera crew figure out how to film it because it was a small apartment, meant only for jacky to live in, so the balcony was basically right outside the living room where you and eunji had stayed, trying not to look outside and give them their privacy while they were having their mandated talk.

then, the crew had surprised everyone with a flight to japan for momo's home visit. momo had greeted all of you at the airport in a traditional kimono and one ready for sana as well. sana had teared up seeing her and being in her country of birth again. the next few hours were a whirlwind as momo and her sister hana took you all for a tour of their home city, stopping by all the essential places to eat, take pictures at, and had even brought you to momo's old dance studio where they had readied a performance just for sana. the producers were very happy with the amount of content they were getting as you explored the city.

you could tell sana absolutely loved this date. the amount of planning momo put into it showed how much she wanted to impress sana, and how much she understood her homesickness and her love for her birth country. it was hard to be jealous of momo getting most of sana's attention during the date when sana was on the verge of tears at every new sight, sound, and feeling. and momo was a sweetheart anyway, always being inclusive of everyone, making sure she was there if anyone needed translation or help with anything, you adored her as a friend, grateful that she was able to provide this experience for sana during the stressful filming season it's been.

you ended the day at momo's house. you met her parents and although you were a little intimidated by her dad's buff physique, he turned out to be a big teddy bear who supported his daughter more than anything. both her parents were glad to be able to converse with sana in their native language, and easily warmed up to her because of the fact that she was japanese and communication was made a lot easier. you spent a lot of the dinner just watching them, only catching hints of their conversation from your select knowledge about the japanese language, but momo noticed eventually and tried to translate as much as she could which you appreciated very much.

it was only a little awkward when momo and sana went for their end of the night chat and you had to sit with momo's family attempting to make small talk with your broken japanese. it turned out okay when momo's mom smiled sweetly and brought out dessert, turning on the television and flicking to an episode of the bachelorette with japanese subtitles. it turned out to be the episode that heechul had tried to rizz up momo and sana using his almost offensive japanese, and you were all able to laugh as you tried to explain using gestures and your best attempt at charades exactly what type of man heechul was behind the scenes.

although japan and korea weren't far, the crew had let you had some time off in japan and granted a day off after filming the dinner with momo's family so that sana could go home and see her family as well. so that night you had taken the bullet train from kyoto to osaka and sana had held your hand, leaning into you as she talked through her childhood stories softly. it felt like it was just the two of you against the rest of the world.

the next day sana was positively glowing. she practically skipped around you in circles while she took you around her home town. it was clear she was loved and missed in the neighbourhood. sweet old ladies and old friends were stopping her everywhere, asking how she was, if she was going to move back to japan soon, everyone wanted a piece of her.

you had dinner with sana's parents who you'd met already when they flew to korea for sana's graduation. although there was still the language barrier, it was easily overcome when sana's mom started showing you albums of sana's baby pictures and pictures of her throughout her childhood.

sana had squealed adorably, trying to cover up her baby pictures and chasing you around the house while you yelled out comments while rapidly flipping through the pictures before she could catch you.

you ended the night collapsed on sana's bed in her childhood room, cuddled into each other. you never really decorated your room when you were younger, too repressed and focused on your studies to ever find the time or worth in doing so. but seeing sana's walls plastered with old japanese anime posters, idols, her ceiling dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars, and pictures of her friends and family everywhere, you can't help but yearn for the childhood you could've had if you had tore away from the books for a little bit.

you're both laid supine on the bed, looking at the imitation night sky sana has in her room, little do you know sana's gaze is focused on you instead.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"thank you for being here."

"are you kidding? i wouldn't be anywhere else in the world right now. plus we just got a free trip to japan, life couldn't be any better. i should be thanking you."

sana giggles and fully turns her body, facing you and draping an arm over your stomach. you have your arm under her neck, supporting it while she nuzzles into you.

when she starts playing with the bottom of your shirt, sneaky fingers sliding up and under it, you squeeze out a warning, "sana... your parents are literally next door."

you can feel her smirk against your neck as she starts leaving light kisses along it, and you're helpless, lifting your head slightly to give her better access.

she hums against you, "you can be quiet can't you?"

you make a muffled sound of protest, "your childhood idols and plushies are watching us right now."

you can't see it but sana rolls her eyes, continuing her way up your neck, "i lived out my teen years in here. you think they haven't seen me get off?"

you squirm at the thought, the image of sana under her sheets, trying to keep quiet while she touched herself to whatever fantasies she had at the time.

"you're thinking about it aren't you? how i looked- coming home after school- do you have a school uniform kink y/n? that's slightly concerning y'know?" she leaves a hot trail of dangerous kisses up your throat with each phrase, intent on driving you absolutely crazy.

"n-no!"

"mm okay." then her lips are on yours and really, you should know better than to alert her parents of your sexual proclivities but when sana's licking into you like that you can't blame yourself for not being able to think straight.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

the final date is of course, with jihyo back in korea.

you were nervous walking in through the front door, the sight of jihyo's parents and her sisters, all familiar faces from when sana and jihyo used to host parties and get-togethers for the various holidays of the year.

fortunately, jihyo's parents and rest of her family were sweet enough to welcome the both of you with open arms. as if the breakup never happened. you gripped sana's hand tightly knowing she was probably going through a hellstorm of emotions right now, being in an environment that reminded her of the brokenness jihyo left her with.

what you did not expect was jihyo's ex-boyfriend to also be at the dining table, all smiles and big buff arms.

sana's hand tightened around yours at the sight of him, her eyes quickly flashing to jihyo with a mixture of hurt and disbelief. jihyo avoids her gaze, sitting down next to her ex-boyfriend instead.

you hear sana take a deep breath, composing herself before the cameras and smiling, you can see straight through it though, keeping her hand in yours when you take your seats at the table, glaring daggers at both jihyo and her ex.

it's clear the tension around the table is present.

jihyo's mom clears her throat, attempting to strike up a conversation, "so sana... it's been a while since we've seen you. what have you been up to?"

sana smiles politely, "well this entire show has been a pretty big thing lately. although i will say i was very surprised to see jihyo there on opening night. not as surprised as i am to see your ex-boyfriend here though." sana directs towards jihyo, a little harshly, stabbing her food with her fork.

"sungbin. it's nice to meet you." sungbin offers a polite nod, but keeps mostly to himself.

"sungbin is my best friend. i thought if y/n could go on this whole experience with you then it wouldn't be a problem if i brought my best friend along." her tone is cutting, like she knows something you don't. "besides... my family's already met you and given you their approval. i thought the whole point of home visits was to get to know people close to me and see if they like you?"

sana shuffles a little in her seat, her grip on you tightens. "right."

the table falls silent again, only the sounds of cutlery scrapping against plates able to be heard.

it's more than awkward and you can see the producers talking worriedly with each other, coming up with any ways to make this more entertaining.

it's jihyo's dad that clears his throat this time, "so sana... do you think you've found your 'one' on this show? i know jihyo is a contestant on your show but know we still care about you and want the best for you, even if that's not our daughter." he smiles kindly, while his wife pecks him on the cheek for his sweet words.

"dad!" jihyo startles.

"what? just because you decided to break up with sana doesn't mean we wanted to let go of her."

"yeah sungbin isn't nearly as good as you at super mario bros even with all those muscles." jihyo's youngest sister chimes in with a laugh, lightening the mood easily as you slip into old conversations and reminiscing better times. you can see the producers visibly relaxing as conversation starts flowing, but jihyo is still tense, unable to look at anyone except sungbin in the eye.

eventually the night leads you into board games with the family while sana takes jihyo outside to talk. you give her a reassuring look before she heads outside, sungbin gives you a strange glance but you don't bother paying him any attention. regardless of his presence, he was still a stranger to you.

you're celebrating your third pass by the go slot in monopoly when the argument outside starts to get louder and louder, able to be heard from inside the house.

"why would you bring him here!?"

"what do you mean why? don't tell me you haven't been sneaking around with y/n this entire time! you haven't even given this show a chance have you?! you haven't given us a chance!"

"jihyo i told you last time that we are over! we have been over for over a year now!"

"i apologised for that okay! i just thought- i didn't think you'd be the type of person to go on this show for the wrong reasons sana."

"what- what wrong reasons?!"

"you're not here to find love! you've had it! even when we were dating i always thought it was kinda weird how close you and y/n were!"

"what- what are you talking about jihyo?!"

"you know damn well what i'm talking about."

"i don't."

"the fact that you've been in love with y/n since way before we were dating sana."

"wh- what?!"

"yeah. i figured if you're not taking this experience seriously than i give you a taste of your own medicine. that's why i invited sungbin tonight. everyone talks about people only coming on these reality shows for their 15 minutes of fame, i didn't peg you to be one of them sana."

"i am taking this seriously! how can you tell me anything about what i've been doing when you've had tunnel vision this entire time? you've only been focused on trying to get me back after i already told you that we're over!"

"if you are taking this seriously then tell me you don't have feelings for y/n. tell me you're going to end up with one of the final four, it doesn't have to be me, but don't you think you owe it to the others who have been trying so hard to impress you this entire time to give it your all?"

"i- that's not for you to decide jihyo."

"you can't say it can you?"

there's silence for a bit, the muffled sound of sniffling. you can't help but feel like you're intruding, and the fact that everything was being filmed and recorded right now made it even worse.

you quietly slip out of board games night and head towards the producers.

"you're going to cut that out right?"

"sorry?"

"their conversation. you'll cut it out?"

"excuse me, who do you think you are?"

"sana's best friend. who cares about her and her national reputation as korea's most eligible bachelorette."

the producer sighs exasperatedly, "we'll see what we do in the final edits. no promises." he rolls his eyes and pushes past you to go talk to the camera directors.

you hurridely go outside to see sana sitting on the balcony, her head in her hands, jihyo looking out across the balcony.

"sana?"

they both turn to you, jihyo rolls her eyes predictably, scoffing and moving past you back inside. you take the opportunity to step outside and close the door behind you.

"sana sweetheart..."

sana's eyes are watery, barely concealed emotions rampant across her face.

"cameras." she gestures weakly around the balcony where cameras and microphones are still set up.

"let's go home then."

she takes a breath, nodding slightly and taking your outstretched hand, you squeeze it reassuringly, leading her out of the house and offering your goodbyes to jihyo's family.

rather than take the driver back to the bachelorette pad, you insist on driving and giving the driver the rest of the night off. that way, you can at least ensure the both of you aren't under the watchful eye of producers looking to make a buck off sana's misfortune for entertainment.

it also helps that you can take a detour and head to a late night ice-cream parlour you and sana used to go to all the time as college students.

you grin when you see sana's expression immediately brighten when you pull up into familiar streets.

"where are we going y/n?"

"somewhere as sweet as you."

"ice-cream?"

"mhm."

she squeals happily, hugging you and you try your best to return it with a laugh while you keep your eyes on the road.

you park and walk into the ice-cream parlour hand in hand.

sana beams when she walks in, excited to taste test all the flavours despite always getting the same thing every time. you let her be childish again to forget all the things jihyo's said to her.

once she's tasted everything you order your usual white crumble pistachio and strawberry yoghurt for sana.

as always, she has to try some of yours and you must try some of hers because she's tried yours so it's only fair. except this time she leans in to kiss you, the flavours mixing on your tongues, a sweet kiss with no cameras or pressure, a moment just for the two of you.

after you're both finished with your cones, she leans into you, placing her head on your shoulder.

"about what jihyo said..."

"it's okay sana. you don't have to explain anything. i shouldn't have been eavesdropping anyway."

she snorts, "well i mean- it's going to be broadcast nationally anyway."

"maybe not. producers said they'll take it into consideration."

"mm. i haven't- i don't-"

you let her think, placing an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, letting her come up with the words in her own time.

"i love you. i told you that already. i don't know for how long- maybe jihyo's right and maybe i've always loved you. that doesn't mean that- it doesn't meant that i haven't put my all into this right?"

"of course not sweetie. i don't know if it was the same for you but i didn't even realise i had romantic feelings for you until during this. in the beginning, i was completely focused on finding the person that would be right for you. and i think you were too. it just so happened that halfway through, we started- well i realised that you were it for me." you turn to face her gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and caressing her cheek.

she rubs her nose against yours softly with a smile, "you're it for me too. i'll figure out how to get through the rest of the season, but i think jihyo's right in that i have to start being honest with the rest of the contestants. none of them deserve to be led on like this."

"i'm sorry i kinda fucked up this whole show for you."

she pecks you chastely, "silly... we wouldn't be here together or have realised our feelings for each other if this didn't happen right? we just have to be selfish for a little more."

you sigh against her, bringing her into a proper kiss, lips trying to convey just how much you felt for her.

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 23. neon escape — ✦ (wc: 0.7k)

You first found this little spot at the end of your senior year.

The untamed greenery yields with a satisfying crunch as you dismount from Scaramouche’s motorcycle. A cool breeze brushes against your face as you eventually arrive at a clearing that overlooks the Inazuman cityscape. Towering skyscrapers command the horizon, windows reflecting the vibrant neon lights that litter the urban skyline. The air here is alive with the hum of insects, replacing the commotion of the city you’ve grown used to.

This view hasn’t changed at all, but you can’t say the same for yourself. Or for the person you’re with.

“You know,” Scaramouche starts, leaning against the railing. “You didn’t need to drag me all the way out here just to ask me how I’m doing.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “I didn’t drag you anywhere, thank you. I wanted to go here and you happily agreed.” A white lie. Both of you knew that.

Your gaze sweeps across the breathtaking view from the elevated terrace, catching the glimmer of city lights and distant stars. “Besides, I know you like this spot.”

It’s been a year since the two of you last stepped here. A year since Scaramouche returned to Inazuma.

A year since you asked him to live with you.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess." The words don't feel like a sufficient apology. Even before your deal, he’s been subjected to tabloid gossip and rumors just by being your friend. Now he’s being bombarded by the press more than ever.

Scaramouche scoffs, "Don't be stupid. I was the one who proposed the deal in the first place."

“We could end it early,” you start. “I mean our projects are guaranteed to be published. The two of us could even gain a bit of clout if we time it right.”

“I get that you’re concerned about my safety, but I know how to hide.” he rebuts. To be fair, he does have a point. He and his sister did grow up in the public eye because of who their mothers are. Well-respected journalist Yae Miko and multi-award-winning actress Raiden Ei. Who doesn’t know their names in this industry?

It’s been a while since Scaramouche last spoke with them. Their relationship never really went back to normal after what happened with his aunt.

It was all over the news when it happened. Actress Raiden Makoto dies in fatal car crash — her sister, her nephew, and her niece sustain minor injuries. It made headlines for a month before the world moved on.

You know this. It’s why he hates being in cars, after all.

After a minute of silence, Scaramouche breaks the silence with a voice laced with both determination and a hint of resignation..

“Once our deal is over and everyone mourns the death of our relationship, I’ll move back to Sumeru and we can stay on friendly terms. It’s the best-case scenario for us.”

“That won’t be necessary. But you being harassed on the daily was never a part of the deal.” Liar. You knew from the beginning that this torment would be a part of his life again if he accepted. You even went as far as to warn him.

And yet he chooses to stay with you, even if it’s only because of your deal. Why?

It’s likely due to the potential backlash he’ll receive if the two of you were to break up. You’re not blind to the hate the two of you get on a daily basis. But is this really easier?

“Me going back to Sumeru after all of this is said and done is for the best, and you know it. Rumors would just stir up if the two of us still lived together after we split up.

“And I don’t care about the harassment. I knew what I was getting into when I made that deal with you. I’m not stupid,” he turns to face you, his indigo-blue eyes reflecting fragments of the night sky. “And neither are you. So stop thinking you can get rid of me that easily.”

His words are laced with a gentleness you’re unused to. Here he is, saying he’ll leave while saying he’ll stay with you. What the hell is his problem?

But whether you like it or not, he’s here with you for the time being. And damn it, you’ll cling to every last second with him if it’s the last thing you’ll do.

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

it's been a while ^^ hope you're all doing well

will try to update more consistently but no promises

taglist — currently OPEN:

@aestherin @your-kuya-pogi @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @vxnuslogy @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @fangygf @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @lilybythevalley @one-and-only-tay @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @miaakai @duckyyyx @cinnaniyoom @kgogoma @xtobefreex @mechanicalbeat1 @nordicbananas @feiherp @venturinea @nnasv @retiredmommylover @onmywaytoteyvat @tiredslepz

[fenrins]

im gonna be a hater tonight but idc! its a lomg one but i rlly wanted to rant 😔😔

im just gonna go right in and say it: some house of the dragon characters are unoriginal and lazy, and it pisses me tf off. im sick and tired of seeing the same oc regurgitated in this fandom bc istg half of these hotd ocs are literally just daenerys targaryen thrown back in time under a different name.

i usually dont care abt fanfic because its fanfic. nothing i can do, its probably some child having fun, but like i said im just TIRED of looking through hotd fanfics and seeing daenerys pop up as a faceclaim, and then going on to see that half (or all) of dany’s entire character is put into an oc with little to no actual originality if this makes sense.

before i get into this, what the fuck happened to the originality in original character? like genuinely? this is mainly abt one oc i legit just saw like an hour ago off of tiktok bc but still this applies to the daenerys knockoffs i (regularly) see and cry abt like my grown ass should not care but i do!!!!

starting off, the oc’s name is daenera. cool! fine! she’s not a daughter of rhaenyra which is a slay, but is a daughter of alicent and viserys which eh, good enough. we go on to find out that for some reason vizzy t and ali hate her, and at age 16 they decide to ship her off to pentos so she can marry a dothraki warlord. im not even joking. aside from that, she’s in pentos for a year, and comes back with an army of 550k and three dragons. okay hello daenerys! anyways she apparently fights for rhaenyra, but also bangs aemond, daemon, and cregan in the two year timeframe that the dance takes place in.

no one is gonna read this but my ass is mad and idgaf! i need to complain!! but anyways, i am sick and tired of the ocs that are just cheap copies of daenerys because at what point is this an original character? if youre using a faceclaim of daenerys for your character and essentially adding her entire plotline onto your oc, is it even an oc anymore? like i get being inspired to base a character off of her because dany is literally the blueprint, but copy and pasting her entire character and then going off and ignoring grrm’s established lore (yes, its a fanfic, but ive seen too many oc’s claim both cannibal AND vermithor at the same time and i am TIRED) is just lazy and boring.

i wish people did more with their hotd ocs honestly. like theres hundreds of houses and shit and actual ORIGINAL ideas one could use instead of just taking dany’s whole character and just making it their own. i dont even want to start an argument with this but i NEED to see more original characters. like im writing my own two on wattpad rn (one’s a dragonseed whos like schizophrenic idk and the other’s a mormont who slays the day away) but even then i just need more than aemond x his sister or niece or smth idk yk??

im just reiterating points ive made but man its just ughhhh

[cryptidstealingyourcreditcard]

speculation time: the gang’s families

there’s no way all of them are only children, and a lot of their parents aren’t shown, so here’s my theories

hiccup- only child (tho it would be cool if valka was pregnant when she was taken and had a kid in the dragon sanctuary). we already know what stoick and valka are like

astrid- oldest child, probably like 3 younger brothers and maybe a baby sister or something. her parents are never directly shown, but she seems to care about them a lot (she was worried for them in the ep team astrid when she learned their house burned down). if she’s not a daddy’s girl, idk who is

fishlegs- youngest child, we already know he has some older sibling because he has nephews and a niece, he seems like he’d have an older sister. parents never mentioned (i think), but he doesn’t seem to hold any malice towards them. he’s very loving and trusting in a way that you only get from being raised with loving and trusting parents

snotlout- definitely youngest child, at least two older brothers (maybe the hedgelout and griplout that were mentioned in the ep snotlout gets the axe?). spitelout SUCKS. snotlout seems to be very close with his mother tho (writes to her while living on dragons edge, learned needlework from her, etc)

ruff & tuff- DEFINITELY middle children, lots of older and younger siblings. i’m thinking like eight of them in total. their dad is never mentioned, but there are some passing comments about their mother (tuff stealing jewels for her in the ep eye of the beholder, ruff saying their mom would sing to her in the ep free scauldy). they seem to be close to her. they mention a ton of family members, but never their dad, maybe they have a bad relationship?

if any of this is wrong feel free to correct me, i’m just going off of memory here lol