#she also runs if she's upset enough

[ihavethebestjob]

Ah yes i forgot the feeling of 'can't be sick can't take off work because of a behavior'

...I like to feel needed, but I did not miss this feeling.

[chaos-bringer-13]

Jazz's little. Her parents are super cool. They're ghost hunters! It sounds like something from a movie about future and scientists and supernatural beings and cool-looking tech. They have cool-looking tech at home. It's even cooler than tech in the movies.

Jazz also has a little brother. He's stupid but he's hers, and she will protect him from anything. Her brother is very small, he needs someone to protect him and teach him about the world.

She knows about the world. She understands their parents much better than him, and she can tell her brother when they shouldn't be distracted. She knows when they're upset and irritable, and she knows when they're too excited and being near them is dangerous because of all the inventions.

Jazz does a very good job keeping her little brother safe.

---

Jazz goes to school. Her teachers say that she's very smart, the best student in class, and very mature. Her parents are proud of her - when she manages to distract them from ghosts. Her brother is still kinda stupid and doesn't know how to properly fight food, but she's always there to protect him, because that's what older sisters do.

Her classmates seem to think that she's weird though. Some of them say mean things and call her a teacher's pet and a show-off. Jazz isn't sure why they think so because she's always trying to be friendly but maybe she's doing something wrong. She goes to the school library and finds a book about people and their communication.

It's a very interesting book.

---

Jazz is almost a teen. She's gotten better at communicating with people. The school library ran out of psychology books, and Jazz now has to go to the city library but that's fine. Human brain fascinates her.

She's been feeling like something is wrong about her though. She even thought that she was going crazy for a little bit. That probably wasn't true because she didn't match any symptoms but she was still worried.

Someone told her that being so good at lying and faking face expressions is not okay. That's probably not true, Jazz is pretty sure almost everyone can do that. Or maybe she's just being a prodigy again. It's a very good thing to be able to do after all. She can hide her emotions from her family when she's feeling sad. She wouldn't want to worry them, would she?

She'll have to research it.

---

Jazz is a teen. She now knows that her parents aren't actually that good. It's something that was really hard to accept but it did explain everything. Her parents are kinda bad at being parents, and they also don't really listen when she tries to explain it to them.

It's okay. She's almost an adult and Danny has her. She can take care of herself and her brother.

She learns everything she can about being a parent and a therapist and tries to use her knowledge. It's hard, but she's a Fenton, which means that she's very smart and determined. She pushes through, and trains on her classmates and herself.

In the evening she writes about her feelings in a journal. It's very important to be aware of her feelings because that's the first step to dealing with them.

She's experiencing sadness. And anger, actually, even though she doesn't like to admit that.

She writes "this family is a fucking mess" in her journal and then covers the paper with ink until the sentence is absolutely unreadable.

---

Jazz is sixteen, and her stupid parents opened the stupid portal, which means that they're even worse than usual. It's pretty much okay when they're just stuck in their stupid lab, making some stupid weapons. It's not that okay when they're out of the stupid lab, because they get their stupid inventions all over the stupid house, and stupid food comes to life, and she has to protect Danny from both their stupid weapons and stupid hotdogs, and oh god everything is so stupid.

She's experiencing anger.

She's also acting perfectly calm and almost cheerfully.

Jazz hates how perfect her fake smile is in the mirror.

---

Jazz is seventeen. She wants to put her headphones on and listen to some loud music. Jazz can't do that, because she gets anxious if she can't hear what's happening around her. She needs to be fully aware of her surroundings because she needs to be able to protect herself and her brother if weapons against ghosts become weapons against children again.

She thinks that it's not okay.

The house smells of ectoplasm, so she'll be extra careful when opening the fridge.

She thinks that she shouldn't know how ectoplasm smells.

Jazz should probably also warn Danny: her little brother's gotten better at fighting food but doesn't notice the smell of ectoplasm. Funny, considering his ghost sense.

Funny, considering that her brother is a half-ghost.

That her brother died.

That she failed at protecting him after all.

Jazz stops breathing to prevent herself from crying, and doesn't need oxygen for a few minutes too long.

Maybe she failed at protecting herself too.

---

Jazz is turning eighteen next month. Her parents are all of a sudden more attentive and caring, as if that can change their almost-absence during her whole life. She doesn't like their attention because she doesn't know how to deal with it. She doesn't even really think of them as parents anymore.

She thinks of them as a threat.

Once she's eighteen, she's gonna try to move out, and she's going to take Danny with her because it's not safe to leave him here. Maybe after she gets a good job and saves some money, she'll even get into therapy.

Jazz thinks that she needs therapy.

She's been having Bad Thoughts lately, and she doesn't write them down in her journal. Jazz stopped writing anything in there ever since she found out that Danny is a ghost. She just couldn't risk anyone finding that journal.

Jazz isn't sure if she should call those Bad Thoughts intrusive. They scare her, and they're Bad, but it could be just her normal thought process.

It's still definitely not normal.

---

Jazz is eighteen. Her parents are very excited, whispering to each other about how they found a perfect present for her, some surprise that she's gonna love.

She doesn't care.

Her little brother is late from school, and it's weird, because he was also super excited about giving her his present.

She's worried.

Her parents brush off her concern, say that Danny probably just got distracted talking with his friends. They don't listen when she says that Danny wouldn't get distracted like that on her birthday because he's not them, he actually cares about her, he doesn't forget her birthdays, and something has to be wrong for him to be that late.

They don't listen to her at all.

She's angry.

Her parents are excited and talk loudly about how they wanted to find a perfect gift for their favourite daughter, and how they managed to do it because they love her so much. She hates when they're excited. It only leads to problems.

They bring her to the lab because of course they do, why would they make a gift that is normal and isn't kept in the lab, right? They usher her in, so obviously proud of themselves.

She hates them.

And she hates them much, much more the next second, because the gift is her little brother in his ghost form, strapped to a table, unconscious and injured, and the smell of ectoplasm is strong in the lab because of his green blood dripping on the floor.

There's a cold part of her that analyses her feelings and tells her what emotions she's experiencing, and that part is very aware of thick black smoke of wrath twirling and twisting under her skin. It's suffocating, and she stops breathing as it invisibly fills her lungs, scared of letting it out.

There's a perfectly fake part of her that keeps the smile on her face as her parents gush about how hard it was to catch the ecto-scum, and what they can do to it - together with Jazz because they wanted to share this with their amazing daughter.

Jazz is black smoke of rage under perfect glass of calmness when she grabs Fenton anti-creep stick. The smile she learned to fake under any circumstances doesn't falter when Jazz brings the baseball bat down on her father's head. It grows a little bit wider when she hits her mother, because Jazz learned to smile brighter when she's hurt or sad or scared or angry - experiencing any "bad" emotion actually.

Jazz is angry when she grabs her weapon.

Jazz is furious when she kills her parents.

Jazz is worried when she checks her brother's wounds.

Jazz feels nothing when she rigs the portal to blow, walks out of the house and presses the button.

She is her parents' genius daughter after all, and she did listen when they were telling her about their inventions. Maybe it would have taken longer to do, but she had Bad Thoughts, and they probably weren't just intrusive after all, because she did what they told her and made it very easy to make a bomb out of a portal. Just in case. Her parents were a threat, and Jazz was smart enough to prepare to dealing with threats, and she was smart enough to make it look like the threats dealt with themselves.

She really hoped she wouldn't have to use that button though.

---

Jazz is nineteen. Her sort-of-friends at uni offer to go to a restaurant, and she tells them that she doesn't celebrate her birthdays. There's a noise of all of them saying that maybe she should try, noise that she really should have expected, because humans are always so excited about any holidays, it's hard for them to understand that someone might not like them. It's not hard to stop that noise though. They shut up very quickly when Jazz says that she had "a very traumatic event" on her birthday.

Good. She doesn't like loud people.

Jazz goes home to her little brother. He's sad because his parents died in an awful explosion a year ago. He's still trying to smile because it's also her birthday, and Jazz is very happy that he's bad at faking a smile.

It means that he won't end up like her.

Jazz hugs her little brother, and he gives her a little present that she adores, and then they sit in silence and eat some takeout. It's very nice.

She never tells Danny that their parents died before the explosion, and that the explosion wasn't an accident, and that their ghosts did form after that because of all the ecto-contamination they had, but she made sure this wouldn't become a problem. She never tells him what she's done, because that would hurt her little brother, and she would never let anything hurt him.

Jazz will protect her little brother from anything.

[vvitchering]

I’m replaying act 1 (for the fifth time) and when Gale is explaining his condition to you he mentions he’s “never told another living soul” about it, except for Tara. You’re telling me this man shut himself up in his tower for an entire year and didn’t tell anyone why and no one ever bothered to find out? He has so few people who care about him in his life that he fell into a depression and disappeared for a year and NO ONE thought to go and check on him and find out what was wrong? He’s had no one but Tara providing help and support until he meets Tav???????

[aroaceleovaldez]

variety in my canon-divergence aus:

Percy is successfully pulled into Tartarus during his quest to the Underworld in TLT (kronos!Percy)

Sally drives everyone home in her car after the beginning of TTC instead of Thalia driving the sun (8 hour roadtrip)

[pa-pa-plasma]

the thing people rarely talk about is being unable to tell if you're sick or not because you already have these symptoms chronically. like yes i still have a cough, but all the other symptoms of long covid are basically normal for me

[idontdrinkgatorade]

HELP I TOLD MY MOM I HAD A MEMORY OF VISITING ROMANIA (where my bio mother is from) AND SHE CAME BACK TO MY ROOM AND WAS LIKE. WHAT SPURRED THIS MEMORY? HAVE YOU CONTACTED YOUR GRANDMOTHER? HAS SHE CONTACTED YOU?

[gigai-dumps]

I've made my peace with Ena5 but damn, I wish I could be happy for the MizuEna feast but I can't when it's at the expense of Mizuki's lackluster arc conclusion. U_U

[tjerra14]

getting up at 6.30 on a much needed vacation day because I'm afraid of both DHL and the pre-national holiday grocery store pvp

[arolesbianism]

I've been digging up some one of my most neglected stories recently and I'm finally actually developing the rest of the cast after like what? 7 or 8 years or smth? I genuinely don't know when I first thought up Lace but she's been floating at the edge of my mind since then as my token true timeloop guy as opposed to Butters who doesn't rly count because the quote unquote timeloop was entirely within their control and only was a continuous loop because they kept consciously trying again and again. Lace on the other hand. Legitimately 100% powerless in her timeloop situation, as in there was quite literally Nothing she could do to end the loops herself. Some gods just threw her in a 50 year timeloop without even doing the bare minimum of telling her first and she just sorta had to live with that until it from her perspective abruptly stopped leaving her to deal with the fallout of everything she went through now that she's suddenly being forced to live a real life again. And as fun as all of that is it has been very stagnated for years because there is in fact a story and world that exists outside of and around this one plot that matter quite a bit and that I have been refusing to properly work on until now lol.

[giantkillerjack]

He deserves to suffer. But please keep in mind what being around him and actively trying to push him will do to YOU. Because you, in fact, deserve peace, healing, boundaries, joy, and acceptance MORE than he deserves to suffer.

Keep an eye on your heartrate; sometimes mine is the only way I can tell I'm pushing myself too far.

Stay safe. Making a homophobe upset doesn't matter as much as your safety.

You don't owe anyone your time or health for Christmas. You deserve a holiday that doesn't make you feel like shit.

Because even if he suffers, it sounds like he will not change. And perhaps we are different people (and I certainly don't claim to know you or your family and you can do whatever you want)... but that lack of change would make me feel like shit after the first 20 triumphant minutes or so. And then I'd wonder why I am not spending my time off with people who actually like me.

Your spite is justified. your anger and bitterness are justified. Your actions would be justified. And you should definitely still do it if it will be empowering for you.

Just know that you deserve a holiday that is easy and fun, and consider whether a violently queerphobic reaction from your parent is going to better or worsen your health. Because you deserve health.

Hey so my homophobic, sexist and overall cringe biological dad is coming over for christmas and i will be extra gay and give him a heart attack. He doesnt know im trans, that i changed my name etc. because frankly i dont care about him enough to tell him.

But when he comes over i will be so so so gay. Im talking wearing a dress, nail polish, makeup and all the good stuff. I wanna see him suffer. No, not spiteful at all

[skrunksthatwunk]

playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there

[entitled-fangirl]

Direwolf.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan's direwolf is spoiled by the reader.

A/n: Based on ask! Also I'm running a fever, so I'm praying this makes sense

Masterlist

.....................................

"Perhaps it was an idiotic thought from the start," Cregan mutters as he views the sight before him. 

His sweet wife sat on the ground of the dining hall, lavishing their dire wolf in affection. 

Well, Cregan's direwolf.

Well, it was supposed to be Cregan's. 

He had found the wolf not long before he became the Lord of Winterfell. Now, after almost seven years with the animal, their bond was inseparable. 

So when Cregan's wife joined the mix, Cregan was nervous.

But she had a love for Dark Night, as did the large beast for her. 

"I find it sweet," the Maester said with a light smile. "It is important the two get along, isn't it? Better than fighting for your attention, I'd wager."

"That's the thing," Cregan sighed. "Neither of them needs my attention. They're content on their own."

The maester chuckled, looking at the sight of the woman and wolf before excusing himself.

Cregan walked to the pair, holding his hand out to his wife. "C'mon, sweet girl."

Y/n looked up with a smile and took his hand, brushing off dust from her skirt as she did so. 

Dark Night let out a low coo, sitting up and nuzzling at her thigh.

"Seems I'll have to fight for even a moment with you," Cregan smiled as he tucked his face into her neck.

She let out a soft giggle. "Don't be so upset, Cregan. You know you always have my heart."

He chuckled with her, pulling away and leading her to the dining table, pulling out her chair before sitting across from her. 

The two talked of mundane things as usual: their day, the problems of the North, ideas they had, anything and everything. 

Finally, Cregan tilted his head with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him with wide eyes, as if caught in a horrid lie. "N…nothing."

He simply stared, his hands resting atop the table. "Are you feeding Dark Night under the table?"

She reaches to pick something off of her plate, lowering it below the table. "No?"

He leaned back in his chair with an incredulous look and a chuckle, "You little minx. He eats enough, you know that."

"Well, yes, but," she gave a shrug. "He just looks at me so pitifully, I cannot say no."

She reached up to grab more, but Cregan stopped her, "Don't."

She paused, "Cregan-"

"-Do not spoil that damn dog. He is fine."

Before long, Dark Night's large head weighed down on Cregan's lap from under the table, a longing look in the animal's eyes. 

Cregan looked down at him with a tight lip and a shaking head, "Your methods may work on our sweet girl, but you will get nothing from me."

The wolf nuzzled in more, trying to get Cregan's attention still. 

Finally, Cregan waved his hand out at the wolf, "Get. Go on. You have already been fed today."

Dark Night accepted the defeat and left the dining hall, an obvious annoyance in the way he walked. 

"Now," Cregan sighed. "Let us try to speak again."

…

A few hours later, Cregan entered their chambers in pure exhaustion. 

The day had been longer than he had hoped, and he wanted nothing more than time with his wife.

Seeing her curled up on the sofa next to the fireplace warmed something inside of him. 

He came from behind, leaning down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. 

She hummed, looking up from her book. "Hello, lovely."

A small whine sounded in the room.

Cregan's brow furrowed as he scanned the room for his wolf. 

"Why is he on the bed?"

She leaned forward, looking over her shoulder to see that the wolf had indeed found a comfortable place on their bed. She shrugged, "He was there when I got here. I didn't have the heart to move him."

Cregan gripped her shoulders from behind, gently massaging them. "I've had this wolf years, and never has he even been allowed the notion that being upon the bed was allowed."

She smiled as she looked over her shoulder at Cregan this time, "He's been so wonderful today. Let him stay."

He leaned down to her ear, a teasing smile across his face, "Why should I?"

She let out a hum. "Please, Cregan."

"Please what?" He teased.

Her head leaned back against the back of the sofa, "You know what you're doing, Lord Stark."

He smirked, leaning up and moving to the bed, "Up."

Dark Night lifted his head to look at Cregan.

Y/n immediately gets off of the couch, "Cregan."

"I mean it," he complains. "That dog cannot run this castle." 

"He's not," she comes as she moved to Dark Night, petting his fur.

"My love, he-" Cregan froze completely, eyeing the dog. "A collar? You've bought him a collar?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Perhaps."

Cregan crosses his arms, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he bit the inside of his cheek in thought. "Gods, you're gonna be the death of me."

"He's being so sweet, Cregan. Look at him!"

Cregan looked down, seeing his sweet wife practically laying on the large animal.

He shook his head, a large smile coming across his face. "As long as there is still room for your husband."

"Oh, always, Cregan."

…

Cregan woke up in the night, pulling at the blanket that would not move. He leaned up on his elbows, seeing the giant dire wolf that laid on his wife's feet, holding the blanket down underneath him. 

Cregan heaved a great sigh, but inside, he really didn't mind.

He was glad the two greatest things in his life cared for each other. It made his occasional absence to the Wall less guilt wracked. 

He knew they'd keep each other warm until he came back.

.....................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath, @yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[who-is-there]

I just started watching Dimension 20’s Fantasy high, halfway through sophomore year, and I do want a fic where people realise just how used to being part of a group the bad kids are. For example-

-I fully believe every single one of them is used to Riz climbing them so he can see better. It’s usually Gorgug, but it’s happened to all of them at some point. They might hold out their arm for him to jump onto a counter, or so he can pin a clue to his board. Before they all sit at a table, at least one of them makes sure their 4’4 friend can jump onto the table.

-Every single one of them has also caught Adaine after she had a vision. Sometimes she can just shake them off, but the big ones make her falter in what she’s doing, which can be dangerous. It happened once in a fight, and now the people standing closest to her are always ready.

-Fabian doesn’t really recognise he has a blind spot with his eye injury, because the others immediately clocked it. But this also means they walk in between him and the road, in case some idiot mounts the curb. They keep an eye on anything to his right, shifting drinks and pushing chairs if they can tell his depth perception is a little off.

-Fig usually stands in the middle of the group to intimidate people into not messing with them, so it’s sort of become habit to just crowd around her. After the battle, if no one’s seriously hurt or anything, everyone just wanders over to Fig. At this point, Fig is always the first one to yell out after a fight, just so they can regroup.

-Gorgug is the go-to for lap-sits, leaning, anything to do with being physically supported by another persons body. His hoodie is soft, and his headphones are loud enough that you can kind of hear it if you’re leaning on him. His parents weren’t great with nonchalant physical contact, in case he was already upset, so he takes great joy in his friends not being scared to hug him for fun.

-Kristin has left her staff at every single house she could with the bad kids. She leaves her bag in classrooms, the library, the cafeteria. Whenever the group leave somewhere, they do a full scan, because Kristin has probably left something and they grab it for her. No one has any clue who her bag actually belongs to, because all of the bad kids have been seen carrying it around school several times.

The school at large know who the bad kids are, and the town recognise them, but they still don’t know why all of them double check a room before leaving, or collectively carry a small stool around with them. One student with a fantasy iron deficiency faints in class and Kristin catches her before she hits the ground. Once, Fig isn’t in school for a day and all the bad kids have this restless energy about them. It is not uncommon to see them on the field during lunch, curled up in a pile on Gorgug. One guy tries to surprise Fabian from the right and gets body checked by Adaine before it even registers.

It’s sort of uncomfortable for everyone to see any of them without the others, because it means a) the rest of them committed a crime, b) the rest of them are committing a crime, or c) the rest of them are about to run in and start planning to commit a crime. And no one wants to lose their plausible deniability here.

[beepbeepdespair]

a diagnosis sure would be very tasty around now

[coraniaid]

I don't think I believe that people in Sunnydale High School think of the Scooby Gang as "Buffy Summers and her weird friends".

I mean, yes, they know Buffy is (more than) a bit weird and has a history of violence, and they know that she's often at the center of lots of strange things that happen in the school. But if you forget what you know about vampires and the Slayer and look at the dynamics and personal histories of that group from the outside, there's exactly one person who connects them all together. And it's not the (ex?) arsonist and (ex?) gang member who recently transferred to Sunnydale from LA.

Everyone in Sunnydale High seems to know Willow Rosenberg, and everyone knows she's a huge nerd who (A) love libraries and (B) has something of a history of either tutoring (e.g. Rodney Muson) or otherwise hanging out with (e.g. Shelia Martini) some of the school's more violent and dangerous elements.

There's Xander Harris, Willow's best friend since kindergarten (and who, unlike Willow, doesn't really seem to have many other friends at all after Jesse mysteriously vanishes)

There's the (weirdly religious?) ex-aronist from LA who Willow seems to be tutoring in the library a lot (see B above) or who she's possibly recruited as muscle. Sheila and Rodney both mysteriously went missing one day too, so people aren't that surprised when Buffy does herself at the end of junior year.

There's the English librarian (see A above) that anyone who has seen Willow's locker knows Willow has a crush on

There's the computer science teacher that anyone who has been in class with knows Willow also has a crush on, who sometimes has Willow come in to class to help her run sessions for remedial students on the weekends and whose job Willow (somehow) takes over when she dies

There's Cordelia Chase, who Willow has a whole historical Thing with, probably going back to when they were little kids themselves. People say Willow hates her but they're always hanging out together (there's a persistent rumor that they once spent a whole night together in a closet, if you know what I mean) and Willow helped run her campaign for Homecoming Queen. Cordelia was secretly dating Willow's friend for a bit and some people say Willow was really, really upset when she found out; read into that what you will.

There's the mysterious older guy in a band who doesn't talk much and that Willow is apparently actually dating. (This isn't the same older guy in a band Cordelia was dating, but oddly enough it is the same band.) A few kids swear they've seen him naked and locked up in the library at night.

There are (again, from the outside) people like Willow's childhood friend Amy and Amy's friend Michael, who people might remember were once being investigated by the police for ritual murder before Amy mysteriously vanished

To the outside eye, the Scooby Gang are Willow Rosenberg and her weird friends.

(A lot of kids swear that one time they saw her hold the whole Bronze hostage and rip a girl's throat out with her teeth, but of course Principal Snyder hushed it all up and she was back at school the next day. He really doesn't want to have to hire a new computer science teacher this year.)

[beyscape]

pillow talk

Aemond Tagaryen x reader

Summary: Aemond's wife is upset when Prince Regent does not pay attention to her, so she takes the matters into her own hands.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Mostly fluff with some mild suggestive content, just something quick!! Requests are open for more Aemond—we can never have too much of Aemond, tbh.

“Are you too busy for your wife, my Prince? Or shall I say Prince Regent?” You raised an eyebrow at Aemond, the slight smirk on your lips not quite reaching your eyes.

“I must finish reading this, wife.” Aemond did not look up from the papers he was bent over, not even deigning to answer your teasing.

You rounded the bed with a disappointed hum, taking in the figure of your husband; he had already shrugged off his leathers he was fond of wearing during the day, his sword and daggers discarded around the room. Now remaining in his linen breeches and shirt, he had even thrown off his eyepatch in an annoyed huff; beneath his furrowed brows, the sapphire gleamed in the candlelight that illuminated your chambers.

Careful to not disturb the papers strewn on the bed, you sat down next to him, head tilted to the side. “Urgent matters?” You asked, though you had a feeling that you knew the answer. 

Being named Prince Regent had placed a great burden on his shoulders—those very same shoulders that were now tense as Aemond bent over the papers, the very same shoulders you loved to run your fingernails over as he made love to you.

Your husband only hummed in response. You tried not to feel hurt—you understood it, after all; how much he had waited for this moment, to finally be in charge, to finally have power over the way the Realm was ruled, and yet…

And yet.

You still felt hurt by the way his attention had shifted off of you completely—even when he shared your bed at night it was to spend couple hours in fitful sleep, he would come to the bed long after you had already fallen asleep and would often be already awake and busy with his duties long before the sunlight would break through the windows. 

“Aemond…” You sighed, lips pursed in annoyance. “Have your duties not disrupted our lives enough? Must they join us in bed also?” 

“Just a moment more,” His low voice trailed off, his focus on the papers unbroken; it was all-too-clear that your words had not even registered with the Prince Regent. 

You looked at him for another moment, watching the way his jaw tensed and the way his eye trailed the words of some war report or another from the Realm. He was bent over the documents, his long, unbound hair falling off of his shoulder like a silky curtain. 

“Fine, then.” A huff escaped your lips. “I am going to bed.” You blew off the candle by your bedside before laying down, your irritation with your husband growing rapidly as he still did not grace you with a single word or look of acknowledgement. 

You laid there for a moment, listening to the crackling of the fire and the occasional shifting of papers.Any other night the sounds, accompanied by the deep, steady breathing of Aemond, would have lulled you to sleep—but not this time. Not this night, certainly not after having been all but ignored by your husband for days on end. 

Unable to stand the silence and Aemond’s treatment of you any longer, you knew you had to do something, anything to finally snap him out of his deep focus. Quietly, your hand trailed to Aemond’s side of the bed, your fingers gripping the edge of his pillow. You held your breath for a moment, a silent debate ongoing within you, trying to estimate his potential anger and your chances of finally getting some quality time with your husband.

Your desire for the latter greatly exceeded your fear of the former—so you did what you had to do. You smacked Aemond’s tense shoulders with his pillow. 

Aemond’s hands stilled as a moment stretched between the two of you. His head turned towards you ever-so-slightly, brows still furrowed. “Did you just… hit me? With a pillow?” He asked, incredulous. 

You shrugged at him. “Whatever else was a displeased wife to do? Seemed like the tamest of the options I considered.” You raised an eyebrow, a gesture of a slight challenge. 

Aemond let the paper clutched in his hands fall back onto the bed, blending in with the rest of the documents. In a flash his slender hand was wrapped around your ankle, you let out a shriek as Aemond pulled you towards himself; suddenly the previously monumental duties were forgotten as his hands travelled the length of your body rapidly, teasing and tickling at every turn and moment. 

A wicked glint was in his eye as he rendered you a breathless mess—laughter came out of your lips in gasps as you tried to hold onto his arms in a vain attempt to stop him. “Aemond—I,” you breathed, “Stop, I’m sorry, stop!”

Accepting your retreat Aemond stopped, pinning your hands above your head, a slight smirk still playing on his lips. “You cheeky, insolent thing,” he chastised, leaning in as he hovered over your figure on the bed. “However shall you pay for this, wife?”

“I think I already have,” your chest heaved beneath him, still smiling as you tried to catch your breath.

He looked at you for a moment, his eye tracing your face with a careful look—one that was hungry to take in every little breath you take, every little expression on your face. His smirk faded, leaving its place to a look that seemed…apologetic, almost.

It was such an unfamiliar look on the handsome face of your husband, it sent a sudden pang of ache through you. You tilted your head a little to the side, taking in his pensive expression, the way you could practically see him process his thoughts and figure out the best way to express them. Such an intimate knowledge this was—to know Aemond so well was a privilege no one else had… Not a single soul in the Realm but you.

“I suppose,” He began, tentatively. “I suppose I have not had much time for you, as of late.” His thumb rubbed the skin of your pinned up wrist; it was still unbelievable, how the smallest of Aemond’s touches managed to affect you so monumentally. 

“Any time, more like,” You offered with a pout, his gaze immediately falling to your lips.

He hummed, a low and guttural sound—his sombre air tinged with desire set a flame burning in the pit of your stomach. “Then I am the one who should make it up to you.” 

Aemond’s head dipped down, pressing a long kiss to your lips. He let go of your pinned wrists in favour of his hand cupping your cheek, his other hand running down your side to tighten on your waist. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, his weight pressing down on you. One of your hands sneaked into his hair while the other wrapped around his shoulder—you held onto him as though if you let go, the world would shift from underneath you. 

He pulled back slightly, reluctantly, to inhale, his eye never leaving your face. “Are you truly displeased with me?” He asked, his voice tainted with a vulnerable insecurity that never surfaced outside of the confines of your chambers. 

“Aemond,” you sighed, raising your face to press a kiss to his jaw, then to the corner of his mouth. His eyes fluttered close at the contact, your name tumbled out of his lips as a plea, as a prayer. “I have missed you is all. I am not vexed with you.” 

He looked into your eyes deeply, looking for any signs of insincerity or deception; he nodded once, twice, when he only found unwavering affection. Aemond dipped down to kiss you again and again, the first one being heart-achingly tender. 

“There was…” You said in between kisses, “a matter of making it up to me?” 

“Indeed,” His kisses trailed down your skin, his lips finding the spot connecting your neck to your shoulder. “I am in your service, dear wife.”

Your head tilted back almost instinctively, overcome with the desire to give him more access to you—to give him everything and anything he asked for. 

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed as his kisses continued to trail down, his gravelly voice reverberating against your skin.

“You,” a small gasp escaped your lips as his hand caressed the length of your leg, travelling up, up, up until he reached his destination and squeezed in triumph. “No more teasing. I just want you.”

Aemond pulled back with a satisfied little smirk that widened when you whined at the absence of his touch and his kisses. “As my dear wife wishes.” 

He looked down at your figure sprawled on the bed with a distinct hunger in his eye—like his appetite would never be sated, no matter how much he devoured you, like he would never be able to get enough of you. 

As he took off his white shirt, revealing the toned slender figure beneath, you knew one thing: Prince Aemond was going to take his sweet time giving you all the attention you desired and demanded from him—that is, at least, until the morning rays brought back to the mind the weight of duty and Crown alike, until your new reality returned.

You pulled Aemond down for another kiss, letting the taste of his lips ground you to the moment—you felt aflame, your skin flush and fingers tingling with longing to touch, to feel, to hold. It was magic; it was a blessing, a curse—to want someone so much, to be rendered half-mad with just a look, a touch, a gasp. 

Damn duty and the Crown, you thought hazily as Aemond pressed a kiss to the spot above your heart—they could wait their turn. In this moment, Aemond was all yours, unburdened by the troubles of ruling the Realm, by the waging war. 

In this moment, Aemond was all yours—and you would cherish every second of it.