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hisfavegirl · 3 days ago

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The Price Of Loyalty - King!Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Summary : Your marriage to Aegon should have calmed the feud between your two families, but everything changed when Aegon was crowned king and the news of your brother's death brought you a difficult choice.

Aegon Masterlist.

The weight of your choices pressed heavily on your shoulders, leaving you caught in an impossible web of loyalty and love. As the daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon, you had grown up knowing the value of family, honor, and duty. Your mother had been named heir to the Iron Throne by your grandfather, King Viserys, and you had always believed that one day she would ascend to the throne, her birthright fulfilled.

But everything changed after your grandfather’s death.

Your husband, Aegon, had been crowned king in a swift and decisive move orchestrated by his supporters. The very man you had chosen to marry for love had now become the usurper to your mother’s claim. Though you had stood by his side during the coronation, the guilt in your heart had been overwhelming, each cheer from the crowd feeling like a dagger to your soul.

Now, as you sat beside Aegon in the Red Keep, his crown glinting in the candlelight, the weight of your decision felt suffocating. Your love for him had once felt unshakable, a bond strong enough to withstand the chaos of your divided family. But now? Now you weren’t sure if love could bridge the chasm that had formed between your duty to your mother and your devotion to your husband.

The guilt clawed at you relentlessly. I’ve betrayed her, you thought bitterly, your fingers curling into fists on your lap. My own mother. The woman who raised me, who trusted me, who believed in me. How could I stand by Aegon’s side and allow this to happen? How could I let him take what is hers?

Yet, when you looked at Aegon, you saw more than just a usurper. You saw the man who had held you in his arms on countless nights, who had whispered promises of love and devotion. He hadn’t asked to be king; the crown had been thrust upon him by those who sought to secure their power. You knew he was as much a pawn in this game as you were. And despite everything, you still loved him.

But love alone wasn’t enough to silence the voice in your heart that cried out for justice for your mother.

You were trapped in the middle of a war you never wanted to fight, a war between your two families, both of whom you loved deeply. And as much as you tried to justify your actions, to tell yourself that you were trying to prevent more bloodshed, the truth was undeniable: by staying with Aegon, you had chosen a side. And it wasn’t your mother’s.

Tears stung your eyes as you turned to look at Aegon, who was engrossed in a discussion with his council. He caught your gaze and gave you a small, tired smile, but it only deepened the ache in your chest. You returned the smile weakly, but your mind was far from at ease.

What will you do, Mother? Will you ever forgive me? And… can I forgive myself?

The heavy oak doors creaked open, drawing the attention of everyone in the council chamber. The sound cut through the quiet murmur of discussion, and all eyes turned toward the figure entering the room. Aemond stood there, drenched from head to toe, rainwater dripping from his armor and pooling at his feet. His long silver hair clung to his face, and his single eye burned with intensity.

Your heart sank the moment you saw him. There was something in his demeanor—an edge, a tension—that immediately unsettled you. He avoided your gaze entirely, his expression cold and unreadable, and instead fixed his eye on Aegon, your husband and the newly crowned king.

“I’ve secured Lord Borros Baratheon’s support,” Aemond declared, his voice low but steady. The words echoed in the chamber, and for a moment, the room was silent, processing the weight of what he had just said.

The council members exchanged glances, some murmuring approval, others nodding in acknowledgment. Aegon straightened in his seat, his expression betraying a mix of relief and satisfaction. “Good,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of authority. “We need Storm’s End on our side.”

But you couldn’t shake the unease that settled in your chest. Something about Aemond’s posture, his refusal to meet your eyes, made you feel like there was more to his story than he was letting on. Your gaze lingered on him, searching for any sign of what might be wrong, but he remained stoic, unflinching under the scrutiny of the room.

Aegon leaned forward slightly, his tone curious but cautious. “How did it go? Was it a straightforward agreement?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, and for the briefest moment, his mask slipped. “Lord Borros agreed to our cause,” he said curtly, his tone clipped, almost dismissive. “He will not side with Rhaenyra.”

Your stomach churned at the mention of your mother’s name. Every decision, every alliance, every movement in this war seemed to push you further and further from her. And now, with Storm’s End backing Aegon, the divide felt even greater.

But your unease only grew as you continued to watch Aemond. There was something he wasn’t saying, a heaviness in his demeanor that suggested more than just the weight of his mission. You wanted to speak, to ask him directly what had happened, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t trust yourself to remain calm, not with the tension between your family and your husband already pulling you apart.

Aegon, however, didn’t seem to notice the undercurrent in his brother’s tone. “Well done, Aemond,” he said, nodding in approval. “Your efforts will not go unnoticed.”

Aemond simply inclined his head, but his eye flickered briefly toward you, as if he could feel your stare. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Something was wrong—terribly wrong—and you knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light.

Your voice broke the tense silence in the room, trembling but firm. “Aemond,” you asked, your gaze fixed on him, “is there something you’re not telling us?”

The question hung in the air like a sword poised to strike, and for a moment, the chamber fell deathly quiet. You saw it immediately—his body stiffened, his jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists at his sides. Aemond’s refusal to meet your eyes only deepened the pit forming in your stomach.

Aegon turned to you, his brows furrowing. “Why would you ask that?” he questioned, his tone tinged with curiosity and caution. His words, however, barely registered with you. Your gaze never left Aemond, the unspoken weight in his posture filling you with dread.

The tension in the room grew unbearable as Aemond finally looked up, his eye filled with a mix of regret and defiance. His lips parted, and the words that came out made the world around you crumble.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he began, his voice hoarse. “It wasn’t supposed to end this way… but Luke is dead. Vhagar—she killed him. I… I couldn’t stop it.”

The words slammed into you like a physical blow. Your knees buckled, and if it weren’t for Aegon’s arm instinctively reaching out to steady you, you would have collapsed on the cold stone floor. Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as you struggled to process what he had just said.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, your voice barely audible. “No, that can’t be true. Not Luke. Not my brother…”

Aemond’s face was pale, his expression a mix of guilt and torment. “I only meant to frighten him,” he admitted, his voice growing quieter with each word. “But Vhagar—she didn’t listen. She… she acted on her own.”

Your mind reeled as the pieces fell into place. Your little brother, Luke, had been sent to Storm’s End as a messenger, unarmed and trusting the ancient laws of guest right to protect him. And now he was gone—killed by your brother-in-law, your husband’s brother.

The council erupted into chaos, voices overlapping as accusations and questions flew across the room. But you could barely hear them. All you could focus on was the ache in your chest, the unbearable grief that came crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

Your eyes burned with tears as you looked at Aemond, your voice trembling with raw emotion. “You killed him,” you choked out. “You killed my little brother, Aemond. How could you? How could you do this to him? To me?”

Aemond flinched at your words, his guilt evident, but he didn’t speak. He simply stood there, his eye downcast, as though bracing himself for the storm he had unleashed.

Beside you, Aegon’s face darkened, his grip on your arm tightening as he tried to steady both you and himself. “Aemond,” he said sharply, his voice laced with disbelief and anger. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

But Aemond didn’t respond. He simply stood there, his silence more damning than any words could have been.

You pulled away from Aegon’s grasp, tears streaming down your face as you looked between the two of them. Your heart was shattered, your world crumbling around you. And in that moment, the love and loyalty you had felt for your husband and his family felt like a cruel betrayal of your own blood.

Luke was gone. And nothing would ever be the same again.

You sank back into your chair, the strength draining from your body as if the weight of Aemond’s confession had crushed you. Around you, the room was a cacophony of raised voices. Alicent’s sharp tone cut through the air, her words laced with panic and anger.

“Aemond! Do you realize what you’ve done? This will spark war! There’s no undoing this!” she cried, her voice trembling with the gravity of the situation.

Otto’s voice joined hers, cold and calculated, though no less furious. “You’ve doomed us all! There’s no explaining this away. Rhaenyra will demand vengeance.”

But their words faded into the background, muffled by the roar of your own thoughts. Your body felt numb, as if the world had shifted around you and left you behind. Luke. Sweet, gentle Luke. Your little brother, who always tried so hard to prove himself, who had looked up to you with those innocent eyes.

No matter that your fathers were different—he was still your blood, your family. And now, he was gone. Taken in the most brutal way imaginable.

You shook your head slowly, your tears falling freely as your chest tightened with grief and rage. This isn’t real, you told yourself, clinging to denial even as the truth stared you in the face. This can’t be happening. Luke can’t be gone.

You forced your eyes to meet Aemond’s, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was just a boy,” you said, the words trembling with pain. “Aemond… he was just a boy. My brother.”

For a moment, Aemond’s hardened expression cracked, guilt flickering in his eye. But he didn’t speak. What could he say? What words could undo the horror of what he had done?

Your hands trembled in your lap as you tried to breathe, tried to find some semblance of control. But it was impossible. The council’s shouts, Alicent’s cries, Otto’s harsh reprimands—they all blurred together into a suffocating storm.

And in the eye of it all, you sat there, shattered and silent, the enormity of your loss weighing on you like a stone.

The room spun around you, the chaos and grief overwhelming your senses. Every sound—Alicent’s frantic cries, Otto’s cold reprimands, the murmur of the council—blurred together into a deafening roar in your mind. Your chest felt tight, your breaths shallow, as the weight of what you’d just heard bore down on you.

Luke was gone.

Your hands clutched the arms of your chair as you struggled to hold on, but your vision blurred, and the pounding in your head grew unbearable. Somewhere through the haze, you heard Aegon’s voice calling your name, laced with concern. “Love?”

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The world tilted further, the edges of your vision going dark, until everything around you slipped away entirely.

Before your body could hit the cold stone floor, Aegon’s arms were there, catching you just in time. His voice grew more panicked as he cradled you against his chest, shaking you gently in an attempt to wake you. “Love?Wake up, please!”

The council chamber fell silent, the weight of the moment settling over everyone. Alicent rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch your face, her worry evident. “Call the maesters!” she commanded sharply, her voice cracking.

Aegon held you tightly, his heart pounding as he looked down at your pale face. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his tone soft and desperate, as if trying to will you back to consciousness. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

But deep down, he knew this was just the beginning of the storm.

Aegon’s arms tightened around you as he lifted you from the chair, cradling your limp body close to his chest. His jaw was clenched, his expression a mixture of fear and anger as he looked down at you. “Out of my way!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the council chamber.

The gathered lords quickly stepped aside, startled by the king’s sudden outburst. Alicent followed closely behind, her face pale and drawn with worry. “Move!” she barked at the lingering servants in the hallway as Aegon stormed past them, his pace quick and determined.

“Love,” Aegon muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. “Stay with me. Please.” His words were more for himself than for you, a desperate plea to keep himself calm as he carried you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep.

Reaching your shared chambers, Aegon kicked the doors open with force, not waiting for the guards to assist him. He laid you gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your face as he checked for any sign of movement. “Send for the maesters!” he roared, his voice carrying through the halls.

Alicent stood at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped tightly together, her worry etched into every line of her face. “She’s overwhelmed,” Alicent said softly, trying to reassure herself as much as her son. “She’s strong, Aegon. She’ll be all right.”

But Aegon didn’t look convinced. He brushed the damp strands of hair from your face, his eyes filled with guilt and fear. “She shouldn’t have to bear this,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “None of this.”

As Alicent moved to his side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Aegon stayed rooted by your side, refusing to leave you for even a moment. The room was tense, silent but for the hurried footsteps of the maester approaching, as everyone waited with bated breath for you to wake.

As the maester carefully checked your condition, his face softened, his hands gentle as he examined you. After a few moments of silence, he finally looked up, relief in his eyes. "Her grace is in shock, but both she and the child are unharmed. She just needs rest.”

The words hit Aegon like a bolt of lightning, his heart suddenly racing. “A child?” he asked, his voice tight with disbelief, as if hearing it again might change the reality of it.

Alicent, standing beside him, locked eyes with him for a brief moment, her expression unreadable. She, too, seemed to absorb the weight of what the maester had said.

Aegon’s gaze shifted back to you, his heart hammering in his chest. A fourth child? The realization slowly sank in, the news stirring a mix of emotions he wasn’t sure how to handle. He hadn’t even known, and you hadn’t yet told him. His mind swirled with thoughts of what this meant—what it meant for you, for him, for the future of your family.

Alicent, ever the observer, seemed to notice Aegon’s sudden shift. “She needs rest, Aegon,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “All of you do.”

Aegon nodded, though his mind was far away, processing the weight of everything happening all at once. The shock of Luke’s death, your collapse, the revelation of another child—his child—swirled together in an overwhelming cloud.

He brushed a hand gently over your forehead, his fingers trembling slightly. “You never told me,” he murmured, his voice strained with a mix of concern and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite name. “But we’ll get through this together. I swear it.”

Alicent, still standing at the edge of the room, watched the two of you in silence, her eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and apprehension. She, too, understood that this moment was more than just a physical shock for you—it was the beginning of a new, complicated chapter for all of you.

Aegon stayed by your side, not wanting to leave you even for a moment, but his mind was already working—thinking of the future, of what lay ahead for your family. The revelation that you were carrying another child was unexpected, but now it was another piece of the puzzle he would have to navigate, alongside everything else.

As the hours passed, Aegon remained at your side, unwavering. He refused to leave you, even as the sounds of the bustling castle—of the council, of the kingdom—echoed in the distance. The weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders, but still, he stayed with you, his hand clasped around yours, never letting go.

He sat beside your bed, his eyes never straying far from your face, watching you with a mix of love and worry. His gaze was heavy with sadness, as though each second without you awake was a new weight upon his heart. The room was quiet except for the soft sound of his breathing and the occasional shift of his chair as he adjusted himself to remain close to you.

“Please wake up,” Aegon whispered, his voice soft and broken, as though speaking to you too loudly would shatter the fragile silence between you. His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, a comforting gesture, even though his own heart felt torn in two. “I need you to be all right. We need you.”

He didn’t care about the council waiting for him, or the duties of a king that pressed on him. The majesty of the throne, the whispers of war—none of that mattered. Not when you were here, lying motionless before him. His heart ached to think of you in pain, of the turmoil inside you from the loss of Luke, and now the unexpected discovery of your pregnancy.

The news of the child, the fourth you were carrying, had brought both a strange sense of hope and a looming shadow. The uncertainty of what this meant, especially with the chaos around you, was almost too much to bear.

But he had to hold on. He had to stay strong for you. He couldn’t lose you—he couldn’t lose this child. You were his world, and even if the entire kingdom collapsed around them, he would not let go of this fleeting moment of peace with you.

He kissed your hand gently, his lips brushing against your skin, and whispered once more, his voice barely audible. “Please come back to me.”

Aegon’s refusal to leave your side was absolute, even in the face of Alicent’s urgent suggestion. Her voice, usually steady and authoritative, trembled with concern as she turned to him. “Aegon, the council is waiting. You must be there. The kingdom—your kingdom—needs you.”

But Aegon, his brow furrowed and his expression soft with worry, shook his head, his eyes not leaving you. “I can’t, Mother,” he said firmly, his voice strained. “I can’t leave her, not like this.”

Alicent hesitated, her gaze flickering between her son and you. She understood his devotion to you, but the pressure of the throne loomed large, and the weight of his responsibilities was undeniable. “Aegon, you are king now. The kingdom does not stop for anyone. You must go.”

His eyes flashed with a quiet intensity. “No. I won’t leave her side. You go. You’re the one who should be there. Lead the council, Mother.” His words were a command, but there was a softness in his tone—an undeniable plea that his family could understand. His loyalty to you, his need to be there in case you woke, was more important than any political discussion or royal decree.

Alicent stood in silence for a moment, her eyes flickering between the two of you. Her face softened, understanding the depths of her son’s emotions, even if she didn’t agree with his decision. She sighed, the burden of the crown heavy on her shoulders as she gave a small nod. “I will return shortly,” she said, her voice resigned. “But you must be strong for your people, Aegon.”

He nodded, but his focus never wavered. He turned his attention back to you, his hand still holding yours, his gaze filled with nothing but concern. The room around him, the weight of his title, the kingdom that needed him—all of that faded into the background.

In this moment, it was just you and him. And he wouldn’t leave until you were awake.

Your eyes fluttered open, the light in the room momentarily blinding as you tried to focus. The blurred shape of Aegon sitting beside you became clearer, his face pale but filled with relief. He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as though the weight of the world had been lifted.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. His hand, still holding yours, tightened its grip slightly as he brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. “Thank the gods. I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if to banish the thought.

“You’re going to be fine,” he assured you, his tone soft but firm. “You and… and the babe.”

At the mention of a baby, your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face. “B-babe?” you murmured, your voice hoarse and barely audible. Your free hand instinctively moved to your abdomen, your eyes searching his for answers.

“Yes,” Aegon said, his lips curling into a hesitant smile. “The maester confirmed it. You’re carrying our fourth child.” His tone was filled with awe, though it was tinged with a hint of worry as well.

The news left you stunned. You hadn’t known. In the chaos of recent days, you hadn’t even considered the possibility. Your heart raced as the realization sank in—another child, another life growing inside you, amidst all the turmoil surrounding your family.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Aegon leaned closer, his hand now cupping your face gently. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “You’re both safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

His words were meant to comfort, but they only brought a mix of emotions swirling inside you—joy, fear, and uncertainty, all colliding as you tried to process everything. You looked into his eyes, searching for the strength you needed, even as the storm outside these walls continued to rage.

You lay in bed beside Aegon, his arms wrapped around you tightly, almost as if he feared you might slip away. His embrace was firm yet tender, his hand possessively resting on your back while his fingers gently stroked your hair. You leaned against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a small source of comfort amidst the chaos in your mind.

Luke’s death lingered in your thoughts, the pain sharp and unrelenting. The image of your little brother, gone too soon, was something you couldn’t shake. It didn’t feel real, and yet the weight of it pressed down on you, leaving you feeling hollow. The grief was overwhelming, and now, with the shocking revelation of your pregnancy, your emotions swirled in a chaotic storm.

Aegon’s hand moved slowly through your hair, his touch soothing yet possessive, as though he wanted to shield you from the pain of the world outside. “I’m here,” he whispered softly, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks as you buried your face against his chest. His words were meant to comfort, but they only reminded you of the fragile reality you were living in. The man holding you was your husband, your love, but also the one who had taken your mother’s birthright and whose brother had caused the death of your own.

“I… I don’t know what to feel, Aegon,” you admitted, your voice cracking as the tears continued to fall. “Luke is gone. He’s really gone. And now this—this child. I didn’t even know. How am I supposed to face all of this?”

Aegon’s arms tightened around you protectively, his lips pressing against the top of your head. “You don’t have to face it alone,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his own heart. “I’ll be here, no matter what. For you, for the baby. I swear it.”

His words were sincere, but they couldn’t erase the ache in your heart or the doubts clouding your mind. You wanted to believe him, to find solace in his presence, but the weight of everything that had happened was too much to bear. You simply stayed there, letting his warmth envelop you, holding onto the only thing that felt solid in a world that seemed to be crumbling around you.

The morning light filtered softly through the windows as you stood in front of the mirror, preparing yourself to join Aegon at the council meeting. Despite the heaviness in your heart, you knew your place as his wife, by his side, was expected of you. You adjusted your gown with trembling hands, the memory of the previous day still fresh and raw in your mind.

As you were fastening the last clasp, the door to your chambers opened, and Alicent entered. Her expression was calm but firm, her eyes filled with both concern and authority. She approached you quickly, placing a gentle hand on your arm.

“You shouldn’t push yourself, my dear,” she said softly, her tone carrying a hint of motherly care. “You need rest. The events of yesterday have already taken a toll on you, and now, with the child…”

“I’m fine, Mother,” you replied, though your voice lacked conviction. You avoided her gaze, focusing instead on smoothing the fabric of your dress. “I need to be there with Aegon. He shouldn’t face this alone.”

Alicent sighed, her grip on your arm tightening slightly. “Aegon is already at the council. They called for him early this morning. He didn’t want to wake you—he said you needed the rest.” Her expression softened, and she stepped closer. “He’s worried about you. We all are. You must take care of yourself, for your sake and the baby’s.”

Hearing that Aegon had left without saying goodbye made your chest tighten. You understood his reasons, but it didn’t lessen the sting of his absence. Still, you tried to compose yourself, turning back to Alicent with a faint, weary smile.

“I need to show my strength,” you insisted, though your voice wavered. “If I don’t stand beside him, what message does that send?”

Alicent shook her head gently, her expression firm but understanding. “Your strength is not in attending a meeting today. It’s in preserving yourself and your child. Let Aegon handle the council—he knows where your heart is. Rest, my dear. That’s an order from your mother, not the queen dowager.”

Her words left little room for argument, and though part of you wanted to resist, you found yourself nodding slowly. The weight of everything—the grief, the pregnancy, the tension between the two sides of your family—was too much to carry all at once. Perhaps Alicent was right. Perhaps rest was what you needed most.

“I’ll stay,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alicent smiled warmly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Good. I’ll have the maester check on you later, and I’ll make sure Aegon comes to see you as soon as the meeting is done.”

With that, she guided you gently back toward the bed, her presence steady and reassuring, even as the world outside seemed to spiral further into chaos.

As Alicent’s footsteps faded away, you found yourself alone in the quiet of your chambers. The weight of her words lingered, but so did the unresolved turmoil in your heart. You turned your gaze toward the papers scattered on your desk, your thoughts drifting to your mother.

Rhaenyra.

Her name brought a pang of longing and guilt. The mother who had raised you, who had fought so hard for her family’s place in the realm, now betrayed by her own daughter—or so it must seem to her. The thought twisted painfully inside you, and you couldn’t bear it any longer.

Slowly, you sat down at your desk, pulling a fresh sheet of parchment toward you. The quill felt heavy in your hand as you dipped it into the ink, but determination settled in your heart. You couldn’t remain silent any longer.

The words came slowly at first, but as your emotions poured out, the ink flowed more freely.

Dear Mother,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, though I fear the news it carries will bring no comfort.

It pains me to write to you after so much has happened between our family. I know my decision to remain by Aegon’s side must feel like a betrayal, and I will not deny the conflict in my heart. I am torn between the love I hold for you, the loyalty I owe as your daughter, and the vows I made to my husband.

Mother, I never wished for this division. I never wanted to see our family torn apart. I thought… I hoped that my union with Aegon might bring peace, might heal the rift between us. But I see now that I was naive.

The news I must share now is unbearable: Luke… he is gone. Aemond’s actions have taken him from us. He claims it was not intentional, but the result is the same. My little brother, your son, is dead. And I… I can hardly breathe under the weight of it.

I write to you not only in grief but also in hope. Hope that you will understand the impossible position I find myself in. Hope that, despite everything, you can forgive me for the choices I have made. And hope that one day, when this storm has passed, we may find our way back to one another.

I also must tell you this—I am with child again. I did not know until yesterday, and the news has shaken me deeply. This child, born into a world divided by blood and war, is both a source of joy and fear for me.

Mother, please know that I love you. I always have, and I always will.

With all my heart,

Your daughter

You set the quill down, your hands trembling as you folded the parchment. Sealing it with wax, you hesitated for a moment before summoning a servant.

“Take this to Dragonstone,” you instructed quietly. “Deliver it to my mother.”

The servant nodded and left swiftly, leaving you alone once more. You let out a shaky breath, unsure of how your mother would receive your words—but at least now she would know your heart.

The faint sound of footsteps approaching your chambers reached your ears again. This time, as the door opened, a line of servants entered carrying trays laden with food. The aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, and warm honeyed wine filled the room.

“My queen, His Grace ordered this for you,” one of the servants said, bowing respectfully.

A small smile graced your lips at the thoughtfulness of Aegon. “Thank you,” you said softly, motioning for them to set the trays on the table near your bed.

As the servants arranged the food and quietly exited, you sat down and began eating. Though your appetite had been dulled by the events of the previous day, you knew you needed to keep your strength up, especially now. The warmth of the food comforted you slightly, a reminder of Aegon’s care even in his absence.

Just as you set your cup down, the sound of laughter echoed faintly through the corridor. You froze for a moment, recognizing the familiar voices of your children—Jaehaerys, Jaehara, and Maelor.

Their carefree giggles and playful banter filled the space outside your chambers, growing louder as they neared. Despite the weight in your heart, you couldn’t help but smile. Their joy was a balm to your sorrow, a reminder of the innocence and love that still existed within your family.

The door creaked open, and the three of them peeked inside, their silver hair glinting in the morning light. Jaehaerys, the eldest, was the first to speak. “Mother! Are you feeling better?”

Jaehara quickly followed, her soft voice filled with concern. “Father told us to let you rest, but we wanted to see you.”

Before you could answer, little Maelor ran straight to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “We missed you,” he mumbled into your skirts.

Your heart swelled as you reached down to pull him into your lap, brushing his hair gently. “I missed you too,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “All of you.”

Jaehaerys and Jaehara joined Maelor by your side, each holding one of your hands. For a moment, the heaviness lifted, replaced by the warmth of their presence. You couldn’t protect Luke, but you would do everything in your power to protect them and the life growing within you.

“Are you staying with us today, Mother?” Jaehara asked hopefully.

“Yes,” you said firmly, kissing the top of her head. “I’m staying right here.”

Their smiles and laughter brought a glimmer of hope to your heart, reminding you that even in the darkest times, there was still light to hold on to.

As you held Maelor in your lap, you looked at your children, your heart full of mixed emotions. The silence lingered for a moment as they exchanged surprised glances, unsure if they had heard you correctly.

“You’re going to have another sibling?” Jaehaerys asked cautiously, his eyes wide with curiosity.

You nodded slowly, your voice soft but filled with a sense of reassurance. “Yes, I’m going to have another baby.”

There was a pause, the weight of your words hanging in the air, before Jaehaerys and Jaehara exchanged a quick glance. Then, without warning, they both burst into wide smiles, their faces lighting up with joy.

“Another sibling? Really?” Jaehara exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.

“Yes! We’re going to be a bigger family!” Jaehaerys added, excitement in his voice.

The next moment, the three of them erupted into happy laughter and cheers, their enthusiasm filling the room. “We’re going to have a little brother or sister!” Maelor shouted, his arms thrown in the air as he wiggled happily in your lap.

Their joy was infectious, and despite the heaviness in your heart, you couldn’t help but smile. The sounds of their laughter—genuine, innocent joy—warmed you, reminding you of the love that still surrounded you, even in the midst of turmoil.

Jaehaerys leaned closer, his eyes shining with excitement. “Will it be a brother or a sister, Mother?”

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “I don’t know yet. But either way, we’ll love them just the same.”

Jaehara nodded eagerly, her eyes full of excitement. “I hope it’s a little sister!”

Maelor, not wanting to be left out, bounced in your lap. “I want a little brother! We can play together!”

Their innocence and happiness brought a small tear to your eye, and you hugged Maelor closer to you. “I love you all so much,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

“We love you too, Mother!” they all chorused in unison, their smiles as bright as ever.

For a brief moment, the world outside your room seemed far away, and you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth of your children’s love. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew that with them by your side—and the new life growing inside you—you would find a way through.

The sound of your children’s laughter filled the room, each of them fully immersed in their play. Maelor was making his dragon toy soar through the air with dramatic flair, while Jaehaerys swung his wooden sword in a mock battle, his face set with fierce determination. Jaehara sat beside you, her beloved doll clutched tightly in her arms, smiling as she watched her brothers.

You watched them with a sense of warmth, the pure joy on their faces melting the heaviness in your chest. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago, everything had seemed so uncertain, and now—at least in this room—peace reigned.

Suddenly, your gaze shifted toward the door, where you saw Aegon standing. He looked weary, as though the weight of the day had settled heavily on his shoulders. His face was drawn, but when he heard the sound of his children’s voices calling his name, his tired expression softened into a smile.

“Father!” Jaehaerys shouted, running toward him with his wooden sword still raised. “I’m practicing to be a knight!”

Aegon knelt down as Jaehaerys reached him, his smile broadening. “A knight, huh?” he chuckled, taking the sword from his son’s hands and inspecting it. “You’ll make a fine one someday.”

Jaehara, her eyes twinkling, ran to him next, holding out her doll. “Look, Father, she’s ready for a party!” she giggled, her voice filled with excitement.

Aegon took the doll gently and placed it on his shoulder, playing along. “A very beautiful party,” he said with a smile, before looking over at Maelor, who had come running up to him.

“Maelor, what have you been up to?” Aegon asked, crouching down to his son’s level.

Maelor held up his dragon toy proudly. “It’s flying to battle, just like you!” he declared.

Aegon laughed, his hand resting on Maelor’s head. “A dragon to fight for me, huh? I think that’s exactly what I need.”

You watched the interaction, your heart swelling with a bittersweet sense of love and longing. Aegon, despite the burdens he carried as king, still found time to be present for his children, to be the father they needed.

Seeing him like this—his tiredness forgotten in the warmth of their joy—reminded you of the strength he held. No matter the troubles that weighed on your family, this moment, these small moments of peace and happiness, were worth fighting for.

Aegon glanced over at you, his smile softening as his eyes met yours. Without saying a word, he walked toward you, the children trailing behind.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly, sitting down beside you on the bed. His gaze lingered on you, tender and concerned. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” you replied, offering him a small smile. “Just… trying to make sense of everything.”

Aegon nodded, his expression serious for a moment before his children distracted him once again.

“Father, will you play with us?” Jaehaerys asked, his wooden sword raised high, eager for another round of pretend battle.

Aegon chuckled, his earlier exhaustion melting away at the sight of his children’s faces. “Of course,” he said, getting up to join them. “Let’s see if we can defeat the dragons together.”

You smiled softly, your heart full, watching your family in that simple, precious moment. Even in the midst of uncertainty, love had a way of grounding you. And as long as you had them—your children, your husband—you would face whatever came next together.

As the evening settled in, you gently guided your children toward their rooms, their playful energy finally starting to fade after hours of fun. The laughter and joy that had filled your chambers still echoed in your heart, but it was time for rest.

Jaehaerys, Jaehara, and Maelor walked beside you, their steps slowing as the exhaustion from the day caught up with them. You could tell that they were ready to fall asleep, their small bodies heavy with the weight of the day’s excitement.

You reached Jaehaerys’ bed first, and he climbed into bed with a yawn. “Goodnight, Mother,” he said sleepily, his eyes already half-closed.

You kissed his forehead gently, smoothing his hair back. “Goodnight, my brave knight,” you whispered. “Sleep well.”

Jaehara followed next, snuggling under her covers. “I hope my doll has sweet dreams,” she murmured, clutching the little toy you had given her.

You leaned over and kissed her forehead as well, her peaceful face making your heart swell. “Goodnight, my sweet princess,” you whispered softly, tucking the blanket around her. “May your dreams be full of joy.”

Lastly, Maelor, always the most energetic, climbed into his bed with a bright smile. “I’ll dream about dragons and knights!” he announced enthusiastically.

You leaned down and kissed the top of his head, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “Goodnight, my little dragon,” you said, your voice warm and full of love. “Dream of wonderful adventures.”

With the last kiss given and the children tucked safely in their beds, you stood for a moment, taking in the sight of them all sleeping soundly. The room was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of their breathing, and a deep sense of peace filled your heart.

As you made your way toward the door, you cast one final glance at each of them, a quiet promise in your heart to protect them and give them the love and security they deserved, no matter the turmoil surrounding your family.

You slowly closed the door behind you and made your way back to Aegon, your steps quieter now, your heart filled with a quiet strength.

The dimly lit corridor was eerily silent as you walked back toward your chambers. The soft sound of your footsteps echoed faintly against the stone walls, but there was something else—a feeling you couldn’t shake. It was as if unseen eyes were watching your every move.

You stopped abruptly, your heart racing as you turned to look behind you. The long hallway stretched empty, shrouded in shadows. There was no one there, just the cold stillness of the Red Keep. Yet, the sense of being watched didn’t fade.

A shiver ran down your spine, and unease settled heavily in your chest. You quickened your pace, your hand instinctively resting on the small bump of your stomach, as though to shield the life within you.

But just as your chambers came into view, a hand shot out from the darkness, gripping your arm tightly. You gasped, barely able to react before you were yanked back, the world around you plunging into blackness.

For a moment, there was only silence, darkness, and the cold press of fear.

Your vision blurred as you blinked repeatedly, trying to clear your thoughts. The memory of the hand pulling you into the darkness replayed in your mind, leaving a lingering chill. Slowly, your surroundings began to come into focus, and you recognized the room you were in—a room you hadn’t seen in years.

It was your old chamber in Dragonstone. The familiar scent of salt and ash filled the air, the stone walls weathered yet comforting in their simplicity. This was where you had grown up, where you had once felt safe.

Before you could process how you had come to be here, the door creaked open. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze fell upon the two figures standing there.

Your father, Daemon, was the first to step forward, his sharp eyes scanning you with concern and a flicker of anger. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, a gesture as natural to him as breathing. Beside him stood your mother, Rhaenyra, her face a mixture of relief and worry. Her gaze softened as she took a step closer, her voice breaking the tense silence.

“My sweet girl,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re safe now.”

Your heart raced as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. “Mother? Father? How…?” you stammered, your voice barely audible.

Daemon’s lips pressed into a thin line as he spoke, his tone cold yet protective. “You were taken from under their noses. And now, you’re home.”

The realization of where you were and what they meant washed over you like a tidal wave. Home. But what did this mean for Aegon? For your children? And the precarious balance you had tried so desperately to maintain?

Your hands trembled as you looked between your parents, the weight of everything crashing down on you. “What have you done?” you whispered, fear and confusion gripping your heart.

In the early hours of the morning, Aegon awoke to find your side of the bed empty. At first, he assumed you were with the children or tending to something trivial, but as the minutes passed and you did not return, a strange unease settled over him.

He called out for you, your name echoing in the quiet chambers, but there was no response. Throwing on his robe, he strode into the corridors, his steps quick and purposeful. He headed first to the children’s chambers, thinking you might still be there.

When he entered, he found Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor sleeping soundly in their beds. His chest tightened as he quietly checked each room, hoping you might be there, but there was no sign of you.

“Where is she?” he muttered under his breath, his unease growing with every passing moment.

He summoned the guards and servants, demanding answers. “Find her,” he barked, his voice sharp with desperation. “Search every corner of the Red Keep.”

They scattered quickly, their torches flickering as they began the search. Aegon himself roamed the halls, his mind racing with fear and anger. You had been by his side just last night, safe and sound. How could you simply vanish?

By the time the sun began to rise, there was still no sign of you. Aegon returned to your chambers, pacing back and forth as his thoughts consumed him. His frustration boiled over, and he slammed a fist against the table.

“She wouldn’t leave,” he said aloud, as if trying to convince himself. “Not without the children. Not without a word.”

His mind flashed to the political tensions, the threats looming over the realm. Had someone taken you? Had his enemies dared to harm you or use you against him?

Determined and frantic, he ordered a full investigation. He would not rest until you were found. His love for you and his growing fear fueled his resolve, and he silently vowed to bring you back, no matter what it took.

Your gaze darted between your mother and father, the weight of their presence suffocating. You took a deep breath, steadying your voice as you spoke. “You shouldn’t have brought me here. This will only make things worse.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his piercing eyes blazing with anger. He stepped forward, his tone sharp and accusing. “Worse? Worse is watching my daughter betray her own blood! Worse is seeing the daughter I raised, the dragon I cherished, stand with the Greens and that usurper instead of her own kin!”

His words hit you like a dagger, but you stood your ground. “I did not betray you!” you shot back, your voice trembling but firm. “Do you truly think so little of me? That I would abandon you, abandon Mother, abandon my brothers? I have been there trying to stop a war, trying to make peace!”

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her expression softer but no less pained. “Peace?” she repeated, her voice laden with disbelief. “While the Greens plot against us, while they take what is rightfully mine? Tell me, daughter, how does peace look when it is built on the ashes of betrayal?”

Your heart clenched at her words, but you refused to back down. “I stayed because I believed that my presence could temper Aegon’s actions, could prevent him from making decisions that would lead to bloodshed! I stayed because I thought I could be a bridge between us, not a wedge driven deeper into the divide!”

Daemon scoffed, his expression hardening. “And what did that achieve? Lucerys is dead. Your little brother was slaughtered, and you expect me to believe you were making things better?”

The mention of Luke’s name broke something inside you, and tears welled in your eyes. “Do you think I don’t grieve him?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Do you think I don’t feel the weight of his death every moment? I didn’t know… I didn’t know what Aemond would do."

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened slightly, but Daemon’s anger only burned brighter. “You chose them,” he hissed, stepping closer. “You chose the Greens over your mother, over your brothers. And now, you’re here, and you will stay. There is no going back to him. To them.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt the ground beneath you shift. Torn between the family you were born into and the family you had built, you realized the chasm between the two had grown too wide, and you were caught in the middle, with no escape in sight.

You reached out and grasped your father’s hand, your grip trembling but firm. “Father, please,” you pleaded, your voice raw with desperation. “I can’t stay here. I can’t leave my children behind. They need me. Aegon needs me. And… I’m carrying another child.”

For a moment, you saw a flicker of hesitation in Daemon’s eyes, a brief crack in the unyielding mask of anger. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He pulled his hand away, his expression hardening further.

“It changes nothing,” he said coldly. “You think that carrying his child excuses the choices you’ve made? That it absolves you of standing with the usurper while he sits on your mother’s throne?”

“Father,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I didn’t choose to abandon this family. I didn’t choose for any of this to happen. But my children are innocent in all of this, and I cannot—will not—leave them.”

Daemon’s jaw clenched, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You speak of innocence, yet you stand by the man who let Lucerys die, who let Aemond walk free after slaughtering your brother.”

Your heart twisted in anguish. “I didn’t know,” you said, your voice breaking. “I didn’t know what Aemond would do. If I had known…”

“But you stayed,” Daemon interrupted, his voice rising. “You stayed after they crowned him. After they declared war on this family. You stayed, and now you dare to plead for mercy?”

Rhaenyra placed a hand on Daemon’s arm, her gaze locked on you. There was a trace of sorrow in her eyes, but also a determination that mirrored her husband’s. “You are my daughter,” she said softly, “and I love you. But your place is here, with your family. Not with the man who sits on my throne.”

Your legs felt weak, your heart pounding in your chest. “I can’t stay,” you whispered, shaking your head. “If you keep me here, it will only cause more pain—for everyone.”

But Daemon stepped forward, his voice final. “You are not leaving, not now, not ever. Whatever bond you think ties you to him is nothing compared to your duty to your true family. You will stay, and that is the end of it.”

The weight of his words crushed you, and you realized that no amount of pleading or reasoning would sway him. You were trapped, torn between two worlds, and there was no escape.

You sank to the cold stone floor as the sound of the lock clicking echoed through the room, sealing your fate. The tears came silently, hot and unrelenting, as you wrapped your arms around yourself, seeking comfort in your own embrace. Your trembling hands moved to your stomach, gently cradling the life growing within you.

You stroked your belly softly, your whispers barely audible in the quiet room. “I’m so sorry,” you murmured, the weight of your anguish pressing down on you. “I promised to protect all of you… I promised.”

Your thoughts drifted to Aegon, imagining him back in the Red Keep, searching for you, his frustration and worry mounting with every passing moment. You could see his face so clearly—his exhaustion, his fear for you, and the quiet tenderness he always reserved for you in private.

Would he know where you had gone? Would he realize you’d been taken?

Your tears fell harder as you thought of your children. Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor—how would they understand your sudden absence? You could almost hear Maelor��s small, confused voice asking for you, or Jaehaera clutching her doll and waiting for your goodnight kiss.

“I can’t stay here,” you whispered to yourself, your resolve hardening even as despair threatened to consume you. You couldn’t let this separation last. For your children, for your unborn baby, and for Aegon, you had to find a way back to them.

But as the cold reality of the locked door set in, you realized that escaping Dragonstone would not be easy. Trapped and isolated, all you could do for now was wait, hope, and pray that Aegon would come for you—or that you could find the strength to fight your way back to the family you had built.

In the Council Chambers, Aegon’s voice echoed through the halls as he unleashed his fury upon Ser Criston. His anger was wild and unrestrained, the sharp edge of his words cutting through the air. “You were supposed to keep her safe!” he roared, his face flushed with rage and grief. “How could you let this happen? How could she disappear under your watch?”

Ser Criston stood silent, his head bowed in shame, unable to meet the king’s tear-filled gaze. Alicent stepped forward, her voice calm but firm, trying to soothe her son. “Aegon, we will find her. I promise you—”

“No!” Aegon snapped, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. “You don’t understand! She’s pregnant, Mother! She’s carrying my child, and I don’t even know if she’s safe!” His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, the weight of his fear and guilt pressing down on him.

Alicent’s face softened at his confession, her own worry deepening. “We will search every corner of the realm if we must,” she said gently. “But you must compose yourself. She needs you strong now more than ever.”

But Aegon shook his head, his shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of him. “What if she’s hurt? What if they…” He couldn’t finish the thought, the words catching in his throat. He covered his face with his hands, his body trembling with quiet sobs.

His mind raced with dark possibilities—what could have happened to you, where you could be, and why you had vanished. The thought of you being in danger, especially while carrying their fourth child, tore him apart.

“I should have been there,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. “I should have protected her.”

Ser Criston stepped forward cautiously, his tone filled with regret. “Your Grace, I will assemble every knight, every scout. We will search until we find her.”

Aegon turned to him, his tear-streaked face filled with desperation. “Then do it. Find her. Bring her back to me. I don’t care what it takes.”

As the room fell silent, Alicent placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder, but he barely acknowledged her. His thoughts were consumed by you—his queen, his love, and the mother of his children. Wherever you were, Aegon vowed to find you and bring you home, no matter the cost.

Aemond stepped forward, his voice calm yet heavy with tension. “What if she was taken by the Blacks?” he said, his words cutting through the room like a blade. The suggestion hung in the air, freezing everyone in place.

Aegon’s head snapped toward Aemond, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as fury reignited within him. “What did you say?” he hissed, his voice dangerously low.

Aemond met his brother’s glare, unflinching but clearly cautious. “Think about it. Who else would dare to take her from the Red Keep? Who else has a reason to strike at you so personally? If the Blacks have her…”

Aegon surged forward, grabbing Aemond by the collar, his face mere inches from his brother’s. “If they’ve taken her,” he growled, his voice trembling with rage, “if my wife—my children’s mother—is in their hands because of this war you’ve started, I swear, Aemond, I will burn Dragonstone to the ground myself.”

Alicent quickly stepped between her sons, her hands raised in a placating gesture. “Aegon, stop this! Fighting amongst ourselves will not bring her back!”

But Aegon’s grip didn’t loosen. His mind raced with the possibility that you were with Rhaenyra and Daemon, and the thought filled him with both fear and rage. “She’s pregnant, Aemond! Do you understand what they could do to her? What they could do to my child?”

Aemond clenched his jaw, his gaze steady. “If they have her, it’s because they see her as one of them, Aegon. Not as your wife, but as their daughter. She’s still Rhaenyra’s blood, and you know Daemon will stop at nothing to bring her back to their side.”

The tension in the room was palpable, and Alicent’s voice broke through the standoff. “Enough! We need to think rationally. If she is with the Blacks, then we must act carefully. Any rash action could endanger her further.”

Aegon finally released Aemond, shoving him back with a frustrated snarl. His chest heaved with the weight of his emotions as he turned away, pacing the room. “We need to confirm it. Send spies, ravens—whatever it takes. I need to know where she is.”

Aemond nodded solemnly. “I’ll go myself if I must. I’ll bring her back.”

Aegon shot him a dark look, his voice cold. “You’ve done enough already, brother.”

The room fell into a tense silence as Aegon clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. He wouldn’t rest until he had you back, no matter what it took or who stood in his way.

As the tension in the room thickened, Otto Hightower stepped forward, his expression calculated yet calm. “Your Grace,” he began, his voice steady, “allow me to go to Dragonstone. I will speak with Rhaenyra and Daemon myself. There may still be a way to resolve this without further bloodshed.”

Aegon turned to his grandfather, his jaw tight. “You think they’ll just let her go because you ask politely? They hate us, Otto. They hate me. They’ll use her against us.”

Otto clasped his hands behind his back, his tone unwavering. “That is precisely why I must go. They may despise you, but they still see me as a voice of reason. They know I represent the council, not just you. If she is indeed with them, I may be able to negotiate her return without further provocation.”

Alicent stepped closer, her face filled with worry. “Father, are you certain this is wise? Daemon’s temper is… volatile. And Rhaenyra—”

“They are both clever enough to know that harming her would only destroy any chance of reconciliation,” Otto interrupted firmly. “Their quarrel is with the crown, not with her. If they’ve taken her, it’s because they see her as their own, as their blood. I will remind them of that bond and the risks of escalating this conflict.”

Aegon’s fists clenched at his sides. He hated the idea of relying on Otto to solve this, but he also knew the old man was right—Daemon and Rhaenyra wouldn’t be swayed by threats or force, not without endangering you.

“And if they refuse?” Aegon asked coldly, his voice laced with barely restrained anger.

Otto’s eyes hardened. “Then I will remind them of the cost of such defiance. But I will not return without an answer.”

Aegon’s gaze flickered between his mother and grandfather, his mind torn. Finally, he gave a sharp nod. “Fine. Go. But make no mistake—if they harm her, there will be no negotiations, no compromises. I will unleash the full might of the crown on them.”

Otto bowed his head slightly. “Understood, Your Grace. I will leave at first light.”

As Otto turned to make preparations, Aegon’s jaw tightened, his heart heavy with dread. He hated feeling powerless, but for now, all he could do was wait and hope that Otto’s words would be enough to bring you back safely.

You remained motionless, your eyes fixed on the vast expanse of the sea outside your window. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the rocks did little to calm the turmoil inside you. Your thoughts were tangled, your heart torn between duty, family, and the painful reality of your situation. The open door behind you didn’t make you shift, as your mind wandered to everything that had brought you here.

Then, you heard a voice—Jace’s voice—calling your name, breaking the heavy silence. You turned, and there he stood, a figure of strength and resolve, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His presence felt like a reminder of the family you once stood with, the ones you now feared you were betraying.

“Jace…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked at him, unsure of how to feel. His expression was serious, but there was a softness in his eyes, a mixture of concern and determination.

He stepped forward slowly, his gaze never leaving you. “I had to see you. Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low, as if afraid that the answer might be something he didn’t want to hear.

You took a breath, feeling the weight of your own emotions pressing down on you. “I don’t know anymore, Jace. Everything is… broken. Aegon is king now, and I feel like I’m losing everything.”

Jace remained silent for a moment, his posture softening as he approached you. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice filled with an understanding that made your chest tighten. “I never wanted things to turn out this way. I never wanted to see you in pain.”

The words felt like a balm on a wound, though it didn’t heal the hurt inside you. You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You never wanted it… but here we are.”

His gaze hardened, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. “I will do whatever it takes to make this right. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You turned away from him then, looking back out at the sea, unable to face him completely. The pain, the confusion, the betrayal—all of it washed over you again. “But I do carry it alone, Jace. Aegon is my husband, my family, but so is Rhaenyra, so is Daemon, and yet I stand between them. I can’t be in two places at once.”

Jace stepped closer, his voice quiet but insistent. “You don’t have to choose. You don’t have to carry this alone. We are your family, too.”

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and for a moment, you felt the burden of everything you were holding inside threaten to crush you. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jace placed a hand on your shoulder, steady and firm. “Then let us help you. Let me help you.”

You looked into Jace’s eyes, the weight of your emotions pressing on your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel hope. Your hand reached out, taking his in a tight grip.

“Jace… please,” you pleaded, your voice soft but desperate. “Let me go. My children need me. Aegon may be king, but they are still my flesh and blood, and I cannot stay here, torn between two worlds. I don’t want to abandon them.”

Jace stood still, his face unreadable as he listened to your words. His grip on your hand tightened slightly, but there was no answer—just silence. The weight of what you were asking hung heavily between you.

You squeezed his hand, trying to convey the depth of your plea. “I can’t lose them, Jace. I can’t lose my family… all of them. But I need to be with them. I need to protect them. Please, understand.”

He looked down at your hands, still entwined, before meeting your eyes again. His lips parted as though to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. For a long moment, he simply stood there, his expression conflicted—torn between the loyalty to his family and the undeniable bond he shared with you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. His voice was low, weighed down by a sadness you could hear, but also a hint of acceptance.

“You’re asking a lot, but… I understand,” he said quietly. “I can’t stop you. You are their mother, after all.”

You felt a surge of gratitude wash over you, mixed with the overwhelming weight of the decision you were making. “Thank you, Jace,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to betray anyone, but I can’t abandon my children. I won’t.”

Jace nodded, a pained look on his face. “I can’t promise that it will be easy. But if this is what you need to do, I won’t stand in your way.”

You gave his hand one final squeeze before letting go, turning toward the door. “I’ll leave tonight,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Before anyone notices. I’ll make sure no one comes after me.”

Jace stepped back slightly, his eyes lingering on you. “I just… want you to be safe. And for you to know that you always have a place here with us, no matter what happens.”

A lump formed in your throat as you looked back at him, the love and loyalty in his words a bittersweet comfort. “I know, Jace. I know.”

The walls of Dragonstone felt more suffocating with each passing day. It had been nearly four days since you were brought back here after your failed escape attempt. The longing for your children and Aegon was overwhelming, the ache in your chest constant. You missed their laughter, the warmth of Aegon’s presence, the way your children’s smiles could brighten even the darkest of days. The silence in your room felt like a prison, and it was all too much to bear.

Daemon had made it clear that you were not to leave the room again. His anger after your escape attempt had been fierce, and now, you felt like a captive in your own family’s stronghold. The walls that once offered you comfort now felt like they were closing in on you. No one was allowed to see you, not even Jace, who had once been your ally, your hope in the midst of this turmoil. The only thing you could hear now were the distant sounds of the sea crashing against the cliffs and the heavy footsteps of the guards stationed outside your door.

As the days dragged on, you found yourself torn between your love for your family and the crushing guilt that had taken root in your heart. You knew you had made a choice that had torn your life apart, but it was too late to turn back now. The weight of it all felt unbearable. You were stuck in a place where you were neither truly wanted nor allowed to leave.

The flickering candlelight in the corner of the room cast long shadows on the stone walls, reminding you of the isolation that had become your reality. You sat by the window, gazing out at the vast ocean below. You wondered what Aegon was doing, how he was managing without you, and if he missed you as much as you missed him.

You had to see your children again. You had to feel Aegon’s presence, to be with them. But with each failed attempt, your hope seemed to fade a little more. Would you ever escape this place, or was this to be your fate?

Your heart raced as you caught sight of the ship approaching, the green Targaryen flag fluttering in the wind. It was a symbol of your husband, Aegon, and the faintest flicker of hope ignited within you. For the first time in days, you felt the urge to break free from the suffocating walls of Dragonstone, to return to the family you missed so dearly.

You quickly made your way to the door, heart pounding in your chest. The sounds of the sea crashing against the cliffs seemed to echo in your mind as you glanced around, making sure no one was watching. Your eyes scanned the hallway, looking for a passing servant or anyone who might help you. You couldn’t stay here any longer, not when you knew Aegon was so close.

When you spotted a servant walking down the hall, you rushed to catch their attention, your voice low but urgent. “Please, help me,” you whispered, hoping they wouldn’t refuse. “I need to get to the ship. Please.”

The servant hesitated for a moment, looking around nervously as if unsure whether to help you or not. The consequences of disobeying Daemon’s orders were severe, and everyone in Dragonstone knew the danger of crossing him. But after a tense pause, the servant looked into your eyes and seemed to understand your desperation.

“Quickly, princess,” they whispered, motioning for you to follow them. “This way.”

With a final glance over your shoulder, you followed the servant through the winding halls, your steps quick but careful. Every corner you turned, every shadow you passed, made your heart race faster. The thought of being caught again was terrifying, but the sight of the ship gave you the strength to press on.

The servant led you to a secluded stairwell that would take you closer to the docks, away from Daemon’s watchful eyes. You tried to remain as quiet as possible, your breath shallow and rapid with anticipation. Once you reached the bottom, the salty sea air hit you, and you could see the ship anchored in the bay, its green flag a beacon of hope.

You were so close now, so close to freedom, but would you be able to make it before anyone noticed?

As you watched from the shadows, your heart sank a little when you didn’t see Aegon among those disembarking the ship. Otto Hightower stood tall, flanked by Ser Criston Cole and a handful of soldiers. Their movements were deliberate, their faces stern as they made their way up the stone steps leading to the castle.

Despite the pang of disappointment, your determination didn’t waver. You stayed hidden, waiting for them to ascend the stairs and disappear into Dragonstone’s looming halls. Once the coast was clear, you quietly slipped onto the ship, keeping your hood drawn tightly over your face. The familiar scent of saltwater and worn wood greeted you as you found a secluded corner to hide, heart pounding in anticipation.

Time passed agonizingly slow. The faint sound of voices and boots echoed in the distance as Otto and his men conducted their business in the castle. You stayed perfectly still, gripping the edge of your cloak as you rehearsed what you would say, how you would plead for your return. Every moment that passed felt like an eternity until finally, you heard footsteps descending the stairs.

The men returned, their conversation low but urgent. As they approached the ship, you stepped out from the shadows, pulling back your hood to reveal your face. Otto froze in his tracks, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, he seemed to be at a loss for words. Then, relief softened his features, though it was quickly replaced by a mix of concern and calculation.

“Your Grace,” Otto said, his voice quieter than usual. He glanced at Ser Criston, who appeared equally stunned but ready to act if needed. “What are you doing here? How did you—”

“I need to leave,” you interrupted, your voice firm but laced with desperation. “I need to return to my children and my husband. Please, take me back to the Red Keep.”

Otto studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he gave a slight nod. “Very well,” he said, though there was a weight to his words. “But we must act quickly. If anyone discovers this, it could spark something far worse.”

He gestured for you to follow him, and you stepped onto the ship’s deck, your heart soaring with the realization that you were one step closer to reuniting with your family. As the crew prepared to set sail, you couldn’t help but glance back at the castle one last time, wondering if your escape would truly go unnoticed—or if the storm had only just begun.

As Dragonstone faded into the distance, the waves rocking the ship beneath you, you kept your gaze fixed on the disappearing silhouette of the castle. The dark stone towers, shrouded in mist, stood as a reminder of the chains you’d just broken free from. You placed a gentle hand on your growing belly, whispering softly to yourself, “It will be fine. We will be fine.”

But your heart was heavy with the knowledge that this escape would not go unnoticed, and the repercussions could be dire.

Back in Dragonstone, Daemon strode through the halls, his boots echoing like thunder. His face was a storm of anger and disbelief as he pushed open the door to your chamber, expecting to find you seated by the window or lying on the bed. Instead, the room was empty.

“Where is she?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His sharp eyes darted around the chamber, landing on the untouched food tray by the table. His fists clenched as the realization hit him. “She’s gone.”

He stormed into the hallway, his voice booming as he barked orders at the nearest guards. “Find her! Search every corner of this castle! Now!”

When no sign of you was found, rage consumed him. He slammed his hand against the nearest wall, the sound reverberating through the stone halls. “She escaped,” he spat, the words laced with venom. Turning to one of the trembling guards, he hissed, “Check the shores. If she’s on a ship… gods help the fools who took her.”

Daemon’s mind raced, his anger tempered only by the icy fear that you had fled straight into the arms of the greens. For all his fury, there was an undeniable pang of pain in his chest. You were his daughter, his blood. And now you were gone.

He stalked off toward the council chambers to inform Rhaenyra, his jaw set in determination. If the greens had taken you, war was no longer on the horizon—it had already begun.

Daemon’s boots struck the stone floor with force as he stormed into the council chamber, the heavy doors slamming against the walls. Rhaenyra looked up from the head of the table, her face a mixture of surprise and irritation at the interruption.

“She’s gone,” Daemon declared, his voice a sharp blade cutting through the room’s murmured discussions.

Rhaenyra’s brows knitted together, her tone laced with both confusion and anger. “What do you mean, gone?”

Daemon took a step closer, his violet eyes blazing with fury. “She escaped. Our daughter is no longer here.”

Gasps rippled through the room as lords and knights exchanged anxious glances. Rhaenyra rose from her seat, her hands bracing the table as she leaned forward. “How could this happen? She’s been under guard!”

Daemon sneered, his frustration evident. “Otto Hightower’s visit was no coincidence. While we were distracted by his hollow words and false negotiations, she slipped away—no doubt with their help. They’ve taken her back to the greens, to her husband, and her children.”

The weight of his accusation hung heavily in the room. Rhaenyra’s expression darkened, her voice steady but cold. “If she is in the hands of Aegon, they will use her against us. This cannot stand.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists. “I will not let her stay in their clutches. She is my daughter, our daughter. She belongs here, with her family—not with him.” His voice grew colder, and his tone more resolute. “I swear on the blood of the dragon, I will bring her back. No matter who I have to cut down to do it.”

Rhaenyra stared at him, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Daemon, we cannot afford rash decisions. If you go charging into the lion’s den, you risk not only her safety but the lives of countless others.”

Daemon shook his head, his voice unwavering. “There is no time for caution. She is my blood, and I will not let her stay in their hands for a moment longer than necessary.”

The council fell silent as the gravity of his determination filled the room. For Daemon, this was no longer a matter of politics or alliances—it was a father’s wrath, unyielding and unstoppable.

The journey to King’s Landing had been long and arduous, each passing day weighed down by the turmoil in your heart. Your thoughts were consumed by your children, their laughter, and their innocence. And then there was Aegon—your husband, who you knew must have been consumed by worry for you.

When the Red Keep finally came into view, standing tall and formidable against the horizon, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Relief flooded your chest. You were home.

As the ship docked and you stepped onto the stone pier, Otto turned to the guards and gave a firm order. “Take her directly to the king. He’s been waiting long enough.”

The guards nodded and flanked you on either side, guiding you toward the castle. Each step felt heavier as you approached the towering gates of the Red Keep, but the thought of seeing Aegon and your children kept you moving forward.

As you entered the familiar halls, memories of happier times flooded your mind—moments spent with Aegon, your children’s laughter echoing in the corridors. It felt like years had passed since you’d last walked these halls, though it had only been weeks.

The guards stopped in front of the doors to the royal chambers. One of them announced your arrival before pushing the doors open.

Inside, Aegon stood by the window, his posture tense as he stared out over the city. When he turned and saw you, his eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment, it seemed as though time had stopped.

“Love,” he breathed, his voice heavy with emotion.

You took a tentative step forward, your heart aching at the sight of him. “Aegon…”

In an instant, he was across the room, pulling you into his arms. His embrace was firm and desperate, as if he feared you might vanish again. “You’re here,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You’re safe.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his hold. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I tried to come back sooner.”

He pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

As his lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss, the weight of the past weeks began to lift. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to hope.

Aegon knelt before you, his hands gently resting on your waist as he pressed a kiss to your growing belly. His touch was tender, filled with reverence and relief. You ran your fingers through his hair, the softness of the gesture mirroring the smile on your lips. “I missed you so much,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

His gaze lifted to meet yours, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I missed you more,” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Before you could respond, the sound of the door opening drew your attention. You turned to see Alicent standing there, her expression one of joy and relief. Behind her, your children peeked around her skirts, their faces lighting up the moment they saw you.

“Mother!” Jaehaerys called out, his voice filled with excitement as he rushed forward, followed closely by Jaehaera and little Maelor.

You opened your arms wide, kneeling slightly to welcome them into a warm embrace. “My loves,” you murmured, tears streaming down your face as their small arms wrapped tightly around you.

Alicent stepped into the room, her expression softening as she watched the reunion. “I brought them the moment I heard you’d returned,” she said gently, her voice filled with warmth.

Aegon rose to his feet, his hand resting protectively on your shoulder as he looked at his mother. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with gratitude.

Jaehaerys looked up at you with wide eyes, his hands clutching your gown. “Are you staying this time, Mother? You won’t leave again?”

You placed a hand on his cheek, your heart breaking at the worry in his voice. “I’m staying, my sweet boy. I promise.”

Jaehaera held onto your arm, her soft voice barely above a whisper. “We missed you so much, Mother.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, pressing a kiss to her silver hair before looking down at Maelor, who clung to your leg. “And you, my little dragon. Did you miss me?”

Maelor nodded vigorously, his bright eyes shining with tears. “I did! I did!”

Aegon knelt beside you, gathering all three children in his arms. “Our family is whole again,” he said softly, his voice filled with determination. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

You leaned into him, your heart full as you looked at your children and the man you loved. For the first time in weeks, you felt at peace.

The peaceful atmosphere in the room shattered as a deafening roar echoed through the air. The sound was unmistakable—the mighty cry of Caraxes, your father’s dragon. Your heart dropped, and a chill ran down your spine as you instinctively froze, your body tensing with fear.

Aegon’s protective embrace tightened around you as he immediately recognized your unease. “What is it?” he asked, his voice urgent.

Your eyes darted to the window, the color draining from your face. “It’s Caraxes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It's Daemon… he’s here.”

Aegon’s jaw clenched, his gaze hardening as he rose to his feet. “He’s come to take you back,” he said with a mix of anger and determination. He turned to Alicent, who was already ushering the children toward the door.

“Take them to safety,” Aegon commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Now!”

Alicent nodded quickly, guiding the children out of the room despite their protests. “Mother! Father! What’s happening?” Jaehaerys cried, his voice filled with panic.

You knelt and hugged them tightly one last time. “It’s going to be okay,” you said, your voice trembling but steady enough to comfort them. “Stay with your grandmother. I’ll come to you soon.”

As Alicent and the children disappeared down the hall, Aegon turned back to you, his expression fierce. “I won’t let him take you,” he vowed. “Not again.”

You shook your head, your hand resting on his arm. “Aegon, please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “This is my father. If he’s here, it’s not just to take me back. He’s ready for war.”

Before Aegon could respond, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by the distinct clang of weapons. The door burst open, and Daemon stood there, his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister. His presence was commanding, his face a mask of cold fury.

“You’re coming with me,” Daemon said, his voice low but deadly. His eyes briefly flickered to Aegon, filled with disdain, before returning to you.

Aegon stepped between you and your father, his hand on Blackfyre at his side. “She’s not going anywhere,” he growled. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

Daemon’s lips curved into a menacing smirk. “If that’s what it takes,” he said, drawing his sword.

You stepped forward, placing yourself between the two men, your arms outstretched. “Stop this!” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “Please, stop! You’re going to destroy everything!”

Daemon’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at you, but his resolve remained firm. “You don’t belong here,” he said, his voice gentler now. “You’re my daughter, and you’re coming home where you’re safe.”

“This is my home!” you shouted back, your voice breaking. “My children, my husband—they’re my family too. I won’t leave them!”

Daemon’s grip on Dark Sister faltered for a moment, conflicted by your words, but his anger quickly resurfaced. “You’ve been blinded by love for the wrong side,” he spat.

The tension in the room was suffocating, and you felt torn apart, caught between the two men you loved most. “Father, please,” you begged. “I’m begging you, don’t make me choose.”

Aegon’s hand slipped into yours, squeezing it tightly. “You don’t have to choose,” he said softly, his voice steady and unwavering. “You’re staying with me.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, and the room seemed to freeze as everyone braced for what would happen next.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

#hotd #hotd imagine #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd one shot #prince aegon targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #hotd x reader #aegon x reader #aegon headcanons #aegon fanfic #hotd aegon #king aegon #aegon x oc #hotd daemon #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader

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dragon-ascent · 2 days ago

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Hi hi hi!!! I absolutely adore your Zhongli fics your characterization of him makes me swoon he’s such a cutie

Out of curiosity, what’s your opinion on the Zhongli/Morax x reader trope of reader initially being a sacrifice to the dragon god only for Zhongli to be like “What no I don’t take sacrifices???” And just taking reader in as a sort of roommate or something like that. It’s a trope I find really interesting and funny and I’m curious to hear your thoughts on it :)

Hi hi and thank you! Zhongli's the cutest patootie :) <3 And I freaking LOVE that trope!!! Like, easily top 3 trope for Zhongli if you ask me. (I could make a whole tierlist of tropes for him, but that's a post for another day haha.)

Ik you just asked for thoughts but have a little write-up, as a treat. :)

xxx

Rex Lapis is a tad offended that he'd be perceived as the type of god to take human sacrifices, since he does everything in his power to ensure mortals feel comfortable and safe around him. But he's assimilated many groups of people into his land, so it's only natural some may still retain the beliefs and customs they did under the deities preceding him, as grim as that may be.

When you're left in front of his abode as a sacrifice, he sees how urgently he needs to rectify those customs.

You're a jittery thing, all nerves and shudders and, to his dismay, rather scantily-clad especially given the season. He does his best to push the implications of your clothing to the back of his mind as he brings you into his home and warms you up by the fire with some nice warm blankets too.

He assures you he will not lay a finger on you with malicious intent, but you're staring at him like a deer in headlights - like he'll throw you into the fire at any moment if you so much as breathe wrong. Every movement of his makes you stiffen, and even the tea he brews for you is met with trepidation in every sip.

He can't send you back to your people as they'll believe you're a faulty sacrifice and kill you off themselves - so Rex Lapis takes you in his care instead.

He feeds you, clothes you, and even lets you rest in his bed while he takes the floor beside you. You're mostly quiet at first, but as the days pass and there's no sign of him hurting, devouring, or killing you, a seed of trust in his words blossoms. You believe the God of Contracts when he gives you his word he will keep you safe and cared for.

Given the way he treats you, there's no reason to feel otherwise - you've become something of a close companion to him, someone to share the tender joys and sorrows of life with. He used to go on strolls by his lonesome, but now he finds that having someone to walk with is much more enriching, giving his evenings an added tinge of fulfilment.

People do stare and whisper when they see you by the god's side, but if this is how Rex Lapis chooses to make use of their 'sacrifice,' who are they to argue?

Some watch, agog, as the golden deity takes you to the market and practically splurges on you. You shyly point to a sweet treat that looks appetizing, and he boxes a dozen of them without a moment's hesitation. A pretty accessory catches your eye for a second longer than the others, and when you turn to move on to the next stall, Rex Lapis is having said accessory taken off display and handed to you.

"These are the calligraphy brushes I spoke of yesterday," he tells you casually as he runs a finger along the sleek wooden writing instruments. "Would you like to give the activity a try?" It only takes one meek nod from you for him to get you a whole set of the brushes, promising to teach you when you both get home.

It's a shocking sight to everyone who'd betrayed you, everyone who'd so easily given you up for some false belief they held on to so stubbornly: here you are, being treated like you're actually worth something to the god, what with the way he smiles and laughs softly at something you say, the way he gently touches your elbow to veer you away from the evening rush, the way his footsteps fall in rhythm with yours.

As you pass certain familiar faces, your head snaps down and you fall silent, and Rex Lapis immediately knows they're the ones responsible for your plight. He throws them a sharp, stone-cold glare over your downcast head, and they recoil in fright, quickly turning the other way to pretend they can't feel like a whole landslide of shame now hurtles along their spines.

Needless to say, he is greeted by no more human sacrifices at his door. The one he does have, he ensures a long, happy and healthy life for.

#sini answers #GOD the sacrifice trope is EVERYTHING to me #sini writes #zhongli #zhongli x reader #drabble #rex lapis #yeah I just wanted to write this so bad #not friends not quite lovers #but a secret third thing

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office-fantasies2 · 3 days ago

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Title: Bound by Desire

In the bright fluorescent glow of the office, Janet navigated her day with the practiced ease of someone adept at wearing multiple masks. Her boss, Mr. Davidson, was a man who exuded confidence, his presence commanding attention from everyone in the room. He had an almost palpable power that flowed through the office like a current, and it thrilled some while unsettling others. For Janet, the thrill was intoxicating, laced with a hint of rebellion against her domestic life.

The office’s dress code was unusual, to say the least. A strict prohibition against underwear lent her attire an air of underlying daring. Each time she moved, the fabric brushed against her skin, a constant reminder of the vulnerability intertwined with her empowerment. There was something deliciously scandalous about it, a sense of freedom that contrasted sharply with her obligations at home. Yet, what began as exhilaration grew more complex as the days turned into weeks.

Janet's home life revolved around her husband, Tom, a man of quiet strength who valued trust and fidelity. He was supportive, even encouraging, of her career, proud of the ambitious woman she had become. But now, he found himself drifting on the periphery of his own life, grappling with the dichotomy of his love for her and the unsettling reality of her entanglement in Mr. Davidson’s world.

The most pressing rule from her employer was the expectation that she maintain her professional charm and allure. When Mr. Davidson summoned her to socialize, it was not merely as a colleague; he wanted to introduce her to clients, friends, and influencers—all while instructing her on how to engage. It was a game of flirtation and charisma, where she was both the player and the pawn. Little did Tom know, each time she laughed too brightly at a client's joke or leaned in a fraction too close, the boundaries of her marital vow blurred a little more.

"I just want you to be the best version of yourself," Tom had said on one of those blissfully ordinary evenings, unaware of the unorthodox expectancies creeping into their lives. The irony hung heavy in the air; he wanted her to flourish, yet he was unknowing of how that very flourish might lead her deeper into someone else’s designs.

The prohibition against disclosing her marital status transformed her existence into a silent performance. With every interaction at the office, she danced with the thrill of secrets, forbidden desires shimmering just beneath the surface. She basked in attention, flattered by the compliments of colleagues who were oblivious to the silent struggle treading behind her eyes.

Out in public, she was just another employee, laughing and engaging, but internally, she was a woman shackled by the weight of her dual life. And as Tom continued to wear his trusting husband mask, he felt the creeping shadows; the subtle changes in her laughter, the late nights at work that turned into dinner dates with clients, and the hushed phone calls that he couldn't quite decipher.

Yet, the allure of Mr. Davidson’s world was hard to resist—a world filled with risk, desire, and a heady sense of liberation. As Tom unknowingly stepped further into the role of the cuckold, Janet found herself leaning toward a darker kind of freedom—a world where she could be admired, desired, and yet, shrouded in the veil of secrecy that shunned her most sacred commitments.

As these intricacies unfolded, the once simple lines of duty and love grew tangled, weaving a charade that held the potential to redefine not only her existence but the very essence of their marriage. In this provocative game of power and passion, who truly held the reins, and at what cost would each of them pay to keep the other?

@lucylemonxxx

#married but available #married pussy #married with benefits #wife fantasy #extra marital affair #married #slutty wife #wife #sharing wife

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icaruspendragon · 3 days ago

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one time I was kayaking with some friends and we came around a bend that had a little beach. the bank held a few families with little kids. all of whom were having a grand time doing river beach in bumfuck, tennessee activities.

as we were out in nature, there happened to be a little snake guy swimming through the water, just minding his business doing river snake in bumfuck, tennessee things.

upon spotting the little snake guy, one of the adults calls the kids back to shore. not an unexpected move as there are several venomous snakes to watch out for in the south–namely copperheads, rattle snakes, and cottonmouths. cottonmouths are also referred to as water moccasins, a moniker earned as they are frequently found in/near bodies of water. most children in the south are taught which snakes to avoid pretty early on. and so understandably the snake warning makes the kids scared. my "brother" skylar was the closest to our slithery little guy. he calls out to the bank that the snake is harmless.

now. as a kid who grew up in bumfuck, alabama watching animal planet I've always loved little creatures.

my summers were spent exploring creeks and swamps looking for crawdads and little fishies and lizards and turtles and snakes and pollywogs and salamanders and frogs.

did this love for little creatures cause an inadvertent introduction of an invasive species? yes. but sometimes childhood curiosity causes whoopsie-doodles.

my love for little creatures never went away. I was curious, not afraid. and as fortune favors the bold, the snake swam my way. once the little creature was close enough, I gently lifted it from the water with my paddle so I could get a better look.

it looked like a snake.

my friend slid off and back into the water, swimming closer to me, under my kayak, then popping up on the other side. now that it was near enough, that childhood curiosity came back in full force. I did what I thought anyone in my situation would do.

I gave my snaky friend a couple of light strokes on the tail as he swam away.

once we were a ways around the bumfuck, tennessee river beach, skylar turns to me and furiously whisper-shouts, "why the fuck did you touch that thing?" confused by his ire I say, "because you said it was harmless?"

he gives me a look that can only be described as incredulous before speaking again, "yeah dumbass. I was lying because I didn't want those kids to freak out. the adults knew what kind of snake it was."

brow furrowed, I demand, "then why the fuck did you let me touch it?"

that's when my husband, who previously hadn't been listening to our conversation asks, "wait? did you really touch it?"

I give him a Look. "of course I did, that shouldn't be surprising."

our party stops paddling, all eyes are now on me.

"you touching a snake isn't the issue. the issue is you touching a water moccasin."

it's my turn to be incredulous. "how the fuck was I supposed to know that? skylar said it was harmless, so of course I touched it!"

"all skylar does is lie to fuck around around with people, something you most definitely know."

skylar chimes in once more, "to be fair to myself, I thought she knew I was lying."

obviously I did not.

anyway. the moral of this story is to not let your childlike wonder in the world around you die so that you may forevermore go on curiosity quests.

also maybe don't trust your "brother" when it comes to venomous wildlife.

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nerdishpursuits · 1 day ago

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The real issue here is how Marta, Damián and Tasio deal with the issue of Eladio, who makes a pest of himself more every day. I hope Damián gets out of this smelling of roses, given he's decided to face Eladio himself. At least, it would seem, he's not going to meet him alone (I assume Tasio is the one behind Damián in the preview?).

That's the impending doom, in my eyes. With the pressure they're all under, I'm surprised Marta is able to function at all. She’s being attacked on every front and the sheer exhaustion is taking its toll. I will say though, being called a lesbian for the very first time, by someone who's blackmailing you? The fear in Marta's eyes as she’s forced to confront one of her greatest fears? Being condemned for loving a woman during a fascist regime and the devastating consequences? Someone hold her real tight (and by someone, I mean Fina). Here’s to also hoping they get use the term lesbian in a positive context as well. Marta & Fina are okay and the scene with Bigotes Reloaded proved yesterday's speculations were taken wildly out of context. Fina is not jealous, but very much worried for her woman because of what happened with Santiago. And right now? Fina trusts no man and, thus, warns Marta to be careful. Bottom line is, Fina isn’t worried about Pelayo because:

1. He’s a man and Marta is a lesbian (I think she’d be jealous if it were a woman, the way she was jealous of Isabel back in the day)

2. Fina utterly trusts her and Marta’s love and commitment to each other

3. Marta couldn't care less about his attempts at courting her (heck, her face in Monday's preview when he suggests they dine together is a poem - her suggestion was for their respective management teams to have a business dinner, not for the two of them to have a tête-à-tête - though I assume she’ll end up attending to further her business plan)

4. Marta’s heart is very much taken, thank you very much. Signed, sealed, delivered to one Serafina Valero Izquierdo. And vice versa.

As for Marta making a couple of comments today, that have some viewers questioning them? I’d say let’s also remember that, thankfully, there's a few men out there who aren't horrible and that, unfortunately, internalized misogyny is alive and well in most of us, pervasive as it is - especially within the context of 1958 (that is, for those who find Marta’s 'not all men' comment in poor taste - personally, I do not, given the context of the show and its examples of men who were, continue to be, or strive to be good people; we need to be capable of critical thinking, perceiving nuance and discerning context - that being said, Marta’s “not all men are like Santiago” and Fina’s “true, but we should always be on our guard”? They both ring true and complement each other. I can’t really tell which snake is venomous so I’ll be wary of all snakes). Furthermore, I perceived Marta's comment on them being able to, hopefully, turn the page as more of a self-reflection and something for the two of them to look forward to. I see it as Marta trying to manifest hope for the future, not just for Fina but for herself as well. Living caged by fear is not living and rings true for them both. Fina experiencing nightmares and Marta going through an ordeal Fina's unaware of. Turning the page and being able to finally move on with their lives is definitely something to strive towards. I see no problem with Marta voicing that, given she’s going through her own personal hell ever since Fina’s incarceration. A hell she currently sees no way out of. I also like that:

Marta has no secrets with Damián anymore and that they're now strategizing together. Marta really is the apple of Damián’s eye and there's no lengths he would't go to for her. If he got protective of Fina simply because Marta loves her? Now that Marta is facing the firing squad herself? Damián is seeing red. And I hope he emerges unscathed. Marta & Fina need him now, more than ever. Like my partner would say How the turns have tabled. We’re finding ourselves rooting for Damián de la Reina and hell hasn’t frozen over.

Marta claiming and assuming all responsibility for her decision but also saying she's not sorry about the beating Santiago received? Perfection. She may hate the consequences but Santiago got what he deserved. Her head is held high, as it should!!!

Marta & Tasio standing up for each other is something I like seeing. I look forward to this changing the dynamic between them, for the better. Let the siblings bond commence. Marta deserves a brother she can count on and Tasio deserves a de la Reina who appreciates him.

Fina still struggling with her trauma? I like the fact they keep addressing it. Would be really nice to see Marta and Fina talking about her nightmares though, with Marta holding her through it all. Some breathing space amid all this insanity would be most welcome and needed.

What I’d like to see in the nearby future? The show also addressing Marta’s own trauma. Can we talk about her absorbing Fina’s pain and internalising her own to the point of breaking? Keeping everything bottled up is bound to wreak havoc within. No one’s really asked Marta how she’s holding up and, in some ways, she seems to have taken Fina’s trauma harder than Fina herself. Which says a lot about how much she loves her woman, how desperate she is to protect her. I’ll be so disappointed in Fina is she judges Marta as well for her decision. Marta has enough torment as it is.

I’m also seeing people claiming Marta and Fina are not the same anymore. Of course they’re not? Events leave their mark. Like they do for all of us. We’re evolving, day after day. The fundamentals are still there, of course. What makes us intrinsically ourselves is immutable. But we’re all a work in progress. We’re constantly acting, reacting and adapting, always learning. We’re growing. At the end of the day? We still love who we love. And on this journey we’re on? We continue learning how to understand each other, how to offer support and how to love each other through the highs and the lows. Simple as that. We’re not stagnant pools of water. We’re rivers. And they say no water can be stepped into twice. Same with Marta and Fina. They’re evolving, learning and adapting, the red thread of their love guiding them through the maze. I’ve no doubt about that.

Additionally, let’s admit it. That fact that neither of them have had to deal with male suitors until recently? While a boon for the fandom, not entirely believable (and trust me, I’d be the happiest if they need not interact with a man ever again). But have you seen those two? Normally, admirers would be trampling one another. Until now? Fina had the excuse of Isidro and Marta that of Jaime / her widowhood. But now that their respective shields have been painfully removed, they’re not safe anymore. Sad as it is, that women can’t simply be left to their own devices, a suitor storyline would have happened, eventually. As far as I’m concerned ? As long as they keep treating Mafin with the care they’ve afforded them and keep the characters true to themselves? I’m very much okay with it. Drama needs to drama. So far, it’s been consistently good.

Special mention to Andrés being the most useless, spineless and incompetent fool. Egotistical to the marrow. Selling his shares to Jesús and betraying the trust Marta had in him (notably after she asked for his much-needed support on the board), betraying Damián as well and selling them all out to Jesús? All without even trying to look for a different solution, as Marta suggested? Truly, no words. Dude only thinks about himself and nothing else. He's tanking Marta & Damián and handing over the reigns of the business to their biggest enemy. Insanity. I do hope Damián rakes him over the coals for this one. I feel sorry for Bego��a, truly, but her taste in men is abysmal. They all deserve better than Andrés. Qué soso más insoportable. And so irresponsible too. The bar was low for him to begin with, but worry not. There’s always new lows to conquer.

I also like to remind myself no soup is eaten as hot as one prepares it. And theories have rarely hit their mark when it comes to this show. The fandom has often been wrong about so many things and has come up with the most negative theories. Theories which didn’t come to pass (e.g. Miriam being interested in Marta or Fina, Fina falling for Santiago, Jacinto being gay and marrying Fina, Isabel being either a lesbian or a de la Reina, the Carpena family messing with Mafin due to their religious beliefs etc). None of those have come to pass but have stirred up so much drama at the time.

The show is meant to be enjoyed. When said enjoyment turns to angst and frustration? What’s the point anymore? And I’m not saying the sapphic community shouldn’t be wary? After all, this is the result of having been endlessly queer-baited, misled and exploited in the name of ratings. It’s hard to believe a lesbian narrative will in fact be handled with care and respect. Wariness and mistrust in the writers and producers is to be expected. That being said? Call my gullible but I’ll believe they’re ruining Mafin when I see it. Until then? I’m here to hopefully (and clownishly, if you will), keep enjoying this pairing that fascinates me so.

#mafin commentary #text post #just posting on my blog as I don’t want to clog the main tags anymore

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aishangotome · 2 days ago

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Azel Radwan: Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

I'm carried by the Living God, briskly transported to the depths of the temple.

With my body under the influence of the aphrodisiac, I can't move carelessly, and all my effort goes into not being conscious of the warmth of his touch.

(At this point, I don't care if it's for a fee or whatever. If there's a way to break free from this situation—)

Azel: Now, pray sincerely to the God.

Azel: Simply clasping your hands and praying is not enough. You must convey your sincerity to the God.

Azel: Fortunately, the God loves fine cuisine. By offering a special dish that will make him smack his lips…

Azel: The God will hear your prayer and dispel the affliction that plagues you.

Azel: See? It's easy, isn't it?

Emma: Yes, it is. I'd like to try it right away.

Emma: —Did you think I'd fall for that!? This is no different from usual!

Azel: Do you usually offer prayers? You didn't seem like the type.

Azel shrugs theatrically as he sets me down on the kitchen floor.

The compassionate smile that existed just seconds ago shatters, and the greedy, evil God descends once again.

Azel: And also, don't come near me.

Emma: I wouldn't come near you even if you asked me to.

Azel: That's good to hear. Well then, do your best with your prayers.

Azel: Oh, and I'll add the information fee from just now to your bill.

Emma: It's profiteering to charge me for just that information!

Azel: You're calling it profiteering without even trying it?

Emma: You're just using the aphrodisiac as an excuse to exploit me as usual, aren't you?

Azel: That's right, but?

(He's refreshingly honest!)

Azel: In reality, the aphrodisiac will naturally leave your system with time.

Azel: All you can do is sleep or distract yourself. Those are your two options.

Emma: Then I'll sleep.

Azel: Rejected.

Emma: Why!?

Azel: I'll get hungry, won't I? You might as well use your time effectively.

Emma: ......

Azel: And also…

Azel's gaze shifts slightly, and as if on cue, the door opens.

Appearing in the kitchen is Kamal, who, as always, possesses an eye-catching beauty.

Azel: Thank you for your hard work.

Kamal places the hemp sack she was carrying on the counter.

When our eyes meet, she gives me a bewitching smile, and despite being the same gender, I almost feel my heart skip a beat.

Emma: What's this?

Azel: A change of clothes. You don't want to stay in that outfit forever, do you?

Azel: After all, that outfit is an indecent one that women in the harem wear only to attract the king's attention.

(What? No one told me that!?)

Azel: Oh my, that reaction… You didn't know? Poor you.

Emma: I was told it was a fashionable outfit in Tanzanite…

Azel: That's not wrong. It's a fashionable outfit in the "harem" of Tanzanite.

(...Shoot, I was tricked…)

I thought it was just a revealing outfit, but I didn't find it odd because I'd seen women in the castle wearing similar clothes from time to time.

The maids' intentions are clear, and I clutch my head.

(There are traps everywhere.)

(...I'm starting to feel like I can't trust anything.)

Of course, the perfume and the harem outfit might have been prepared out of goodwill.

However, there's nothing in it for me to be happy about.

Azel: Kamal, thank you for listening to my sudden request.

Kamal conveys something to Azel with a hand gesture as Azel smiles.

Azel: I understand what you want to say, but let's talk about that later.

(Come to think of it, when did he have Kamal prepare the change of clothes?)

(Azel has been with me ever since we arrived at the temple.)

(He shouldn't have had time to talk to Kamal.)

While pondering this, I peek into the hemp sack.

The dress Kamal prepared for me is so beautiful that I can't help but gasp in admiration.

The dress, made of a fabric that looks like it's woven with stardust unique to Tanzanite, has a peculiar shape when you look closely. Even when spread out, I can't tell where to put my arms through.

Emma: Living God, may I ask a silly question…?

Azel: Ah, you don't know how to put it on?

Emma: …It seems so.

Azel: You just have to wrap it around yourself.

(If Kamal wasn't here, I would have been made fun of.)

Azel approaches, takes the dress from me, and puts it over my head with a gesture devoid of any tenderness.

Perhaps he was trying to wrap the hanging cloth around my waist, but his hand touches my body for a moment—

Emma: Ah…

(...!)

My sweet voice melts into the silent space filled with nothing but the rustling of clothes.

(I hate this…)

I'm so embarrassed I want to cry, I want to disappear, and I bite my lip so hard it almost bleeds.

But Azel ties the cloth without changing his expression and moves away.

Azel: I apologize… I'm not good at tying.

Azel: The shape is messy, but you understand how to wear it, right?

(Did he perhaps not hear my voice?)

(...Thank goodness. It's a small mercy.)

Azel: Once you've changed, don't leave this room.

Azel: Or rather, I'll lock the door so you can't leave even if you want to.

Emma: That sounds like confinement—

Azel: It's protection. By the way, I'm in the mood for freshly baked bread today. With cream.

Azel: I'm looking forward to it.

Leaving only his selfish order, Azel quickly leaves the room.

Kamal, who follows him, glances at me and leaves with a meaningful smile.

(What was that just now?)

The God, who had left the kitchen, walked down the hallway and stopped abruptly when he reached the entrance.

Azel: That was a blunder.

Kamal: Indeed. But her being an idiot is nothing new.

The bewitching beauty smiled and leaned against the railing as she spoke.

Kamal: How much did you see?

Azel: Everything, of course.

Azel: You can move right away, can't you?

Kamal: If I can use Izzet.

Azel: I don't mind. Finish it by today.

Kamal: What will you do with the hunted prey?

Azel: The God himself will show them a nightmare.

Azel: A special nightmare that will make them unable to wake up again, a living hell.

The incoming light enveloped the God, creating deep, dark shadows.

There was no compassion there, only disgust reflected in his star-filled eyes.

Kamal: …You're angrier than I expected.

Azel: I'm not angry, just disgusted.

Kamal: Either way, this isn't an unexpected turn of events, is it?

Azel: No. The God can perform divination that's equal to clairvoyance, seeing into the future.

Azel: However, all I can predict are "events."

Azel: I don't care what people think or how they feel as a result of those events.

Azel: Even if I can make statistical predictions, they're not always accurate.

Kamal: So, she reacted in a way you didn't expect, and you felt sympathy?

Azel: No way. It's just…

Azel: If she's a victim caught in the crossfire, she should be angry or scolding me, but she gave me the most difficult reaction to deal with.

Kamal: How unreasonable.

Azel: Unreasonable is fine. That's why I hate good people.

Azel: Even when faced with absurdity, they try to swallow it all. They should just lash out at something.

Kamal: Ah, I know. There's one troublesome child like that. She's a relative of mine—

Azel: Shut up.

Kamal: Oh, scary.

Azel: … Sigh…

Kamal: So, what are you going to do? If she returns to the castle, she might face even worse humiliation than today.

Azel: In that case, the Rhodolite guests won't stay silent.

Azel: It wouldn't be bad to deliberately cause trouble and have Tanzanite withdraw.

Kamal: Logically, yes. But what about her heart?

Kamal: An ordinary girl is given an aphrodisiac and forcibly exposed in such a way?

Kamal: And if the timing is bad, it could happen in front of everyone.

Azel: ..........

Kamal: Shall I protect her?

Azel: You don't want your true colors revealed, do you?

Kamal: How cruel to call it my true colors!

Azel: It would be traumatizing in a different way, so stop it.

Azel: Besides, I want to avoid you attracting the High Priest's attention by acting rashly.

Azel: Especially not now.

Kamal: …That's true.

Azel: I'm the only one who can protect her.

Azel: But I don't want to let her live here. It's disgusting.

Kamal: Then you have no choice but to abandon her.

Kamal: Oh, how pitiful. Dragged into this by the God's whim, she'll be left with emotional scars that will never fade…

Kamal: Her dignity as a human being will be shattered, and yet she'll still smile bravely. That type of girl…

Kamal: She doesn't want to worry others, so she keeps all her most important feelings bottled up inside…

Kamal: Well, I'm sure the God knows everything even if I don't say it.

Azel: …That's true.

Azel: Even if that happens, it has nothing to do with me.

(I wonder when this will go back to normal…)

I knead the dough vigorously in the bowl.

Several kinds of freshly baked bread have already been made, and the counter is bustling.

There's no need to make any more, but I couldn't let go of the only way to calm my agitated heart.

(Azel said it would subside with time, but my body is still hot.)

My escaping breath is strangely seductive, and the shame almost brings tears to my eyes again.

Whether it's because of the aphrodisiac or my worn-out spirit, I still can't shake the feeling of my wet cheeks.

(Will I be drugged again when I return to the castle?)

(...It was a good thing only Azel saw me today, but if…)

(If I suddenly end up like this in front of a lot of people, I might not be able to recover.)

Just as I slam the dough against the bowl once more, the lock clicks open.

Azel: Thank you for your hard work. You're quite the baker.

Emma: …I had a lot of time.

Azel: You were able to spend it meaningfully, right? You should thank me.

Emma: …

Azel: Oh my…

(Did he see the tear stains…?)

I hurriedly lower my eyes and focus on the dough.

I knead the dough over and over again, even though it doesn't need to be kneaded anymore—

Emma: I think it's better if you don't come near me until the aphrodisiac wears off.

Azel: I wouldn't come near you even if you didn't tell me not to, but we need to leave soon or it will be night.

(It's already that late?)

(...I have to go back. I don't have the courage to walk through the desert at night.)

Emma: I'll bake the rest of the dough when I come back.

I cover the bowl with a cloth to let the dough rest and place it in a cool, dark place.

Carefully, with slow movements, so as not to aggravate the itchy heat in my stomach.

Emma: Can I return to the castle wearing this dress?

Azel: Do as you like.

Emma: Thank you.

Azel: But it'll cost you.

Emma: …I thought you'd say that.

Azel: There's nothing scarier than free goodwill.

Emma: That's a nice way to put it.

I quickly finish cleaning up and try to head for the exit.

But the God blocks my way, and I can't go any further.

Emma: The confinement is over, isn't it?

Azel: …

Emma: I made your meal for today.

Azel: …

Emma: I should be able to go home now.

Azel: You have something you want to say, don't you?

He hits the mark, and my shoulders shake.

Azel, with his arms crossed and leaning against the wall, gives me a quiet look as if he's trying to gauge my mood.

Azel: Speak.

Emma: …

Azel: I encouraged you to pray to the God, didn't I?

Emma: If I pray… will you listen?

Azel: Who knows. At the very least, the Living God chooses who he listens to.

Azel: It depends on your attitude.

(Maybe it's because he's a God. It feels like he can see right through my heart.)

Encouraged by his mystical eyes that hold the starry sky, I somehow manage to gather my scattered words.

Emma: …From tomorrow, I would like to have at least meals with the Living God.

Emma: After what happened, I've become scared of the food at the castle…

I try to smile and appear calm.

To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm smiling properly because I'm desperately trying to suppress the heat raging inside me, but I didn't want to blame Azel excessively.

(Because… I'm not the real victim.)

Emma: Is that not allowed?

Azel: …

Emma: …Living God?

Azel: …

Emma: What's wrong—

Azel: …Damn it—!

(!?)

For some reason, Azel suddenly punches the wall and glares at me with a grim expression.

There's something so terrifying about him that it makes me freeze.

Azel: Get angry if you're angry, cry if you want to cry, just pick one! It's annoying!

Azel: Don't try to endure it with that creepy smile, it's a critical hit to my mental state.

(To… To think that Azel would be concerned about such a thing…!)

Azel: You never worry about me, do you?

Azel: I'm allowing your rude behavior, so stop making that face that clearly hides your true feelings.

Azel: You should say something like, "It's your fault, so hurry up and prepare a bed for me somewhere other than the castle," or something.

Emma: …Well, that's partly incorrect.

Azel: Then what is it?

Emma: I don't think the Living God is "in the wrong."

Emma: The ones in the wrong are those who try to impose their selfish desires using such underhanded methods.

Azel: …

Emma: Just because you're a God doesn't mean you have to accept everything with compassion.

(The more clearly I express it in words, the more I understand how I feel.)

(It's true that I'm just caught up in this mess with Azel because of the debt, but…)

(Azel isn't using me because he wants to, either.)

Emma: …It's not fair.

Emma: The Living God answers the prayers of the people, but the Living God's prayers don't reach the people.

Emma: Then I wondered who would help the Living God…

Emma: When I thought about it, I realized that I might be the only one right now, so I couldn't bring myself to blame you.

Now it's Azel's turn to be dumbfounded.

The awkward silence weighs heavily when the loquacious God becomes speechless.

Emma: But… um…

Emma: If… If I may speak my mind…

Emma: …I still don't want to go back to the castle…

(Azel said I don't have to endure it.)

(Maybe he'll change his mind and try to help me—)

Azel: That's rejected.

Emma: The flow of the conversation clearly indicated that you would listen to me!?

Azel: I didn't make any promises, please don't misunderstand.

Azel: Honestly, I don't care if you're drugged with an aphrodisiac or whatever, as long as I'm safe.

Emma: That's cruel.

Azel: Thank you for the compliment.

Azel: I want you to return to the castle as soon as possible, but…

With a disgruntled attitude, Azel reaches for the freshly baked bread.

The God takes a bite of the bread I baked with cream, as requested, and furrows his brow in a complicated manner.

Azel: Well then… For the sake of the freshly baked bread, I'll consider giving you an employment test.

Emma: Employment… test…?

Azel: I have no intention of keeping an incompetent person by my side.

Azel: But if there's a benefit to me having you live and work here, that's a different story.

(...!)

The God, showing an unprecedented compromise and willingness to meet me halfway, forms a compassionate smile that seems to radiate a halo.

Azel: What can you do for me?

Chapter 8

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

#ikepri translations #ikemen prince translations #azel #azel radwan #azel radwan main route #ikemen prince azel radwan

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zaebeecee · 1 day ago

Text

It's Nothing Serious

Secret Santa 2024 ••

Alastor and Anthony have been sharing a dorm for over a year. When Alastor comes up with a project for his social psychology class, it's only natural that he would ask Anthony for his help; after all, who else does he trust more? And besides, it isn't like fake dating has ever gone off the rails in the past, right?

Content: fake relationship, human versions, everyone is old enough to do the stuff mentioned within, drinking, trans Angel Dust, HRT involving needles, fluff and corny romance shit, implied spicyness, a whole lot of characters for a one-shot, Christmas-adjacent situations

•••

Here's my gift for the lovely @luciferfemme for the RadioDust 2024 Secret Santa gift exchange! Fun fact: they made the post that was my primary inspiration for Loveless Bond, for which I remain deeply grateful. Anyway, here you are, darling. Hope you like it!

•••

Six feet tall. Thirty-six years old. Outdated photo of him and his fraternity buddies as the only picture on his profile.

Swipe left on that one.

Five foot eleven. Twenty-nine. Fishing picture, fishing picture, fishing picture, just a dog, fishing picture.

Cute dog, but I don’t wanna hear how big his last catch was all through dinner. Left.

No fats, femmes, or Asians.

Fuck you, buddy. How do I mark a guy as ‘hate’?

Twenty-one.

Like Hell you are, you could be my father.

“Looks like pretty slim pickings in the dating market these days.”

“Holy shit!” Anthony jerked in surprise, nearly throwing his phone right into his dorm mate’s face as he spun around and slipped off the couch. He landed on his ass with a sharp yelp, which only made the guy above him start laughing harder. “Where the fuck did you come from?!”

“Louisiana,” Alastor said with a wide grin, his arms loosely folded on the back of their couch as he leaned over to watch Anthony pull himself up off the floor.

“Ha ha, asshole,” Anthony grumbled. “I thought you were at the library.”

“I was,” Alastor said, straightening up and rounding the couch to plop down next to the other young man. “But it’s the beginning of the semester, Angel, I hardly have that much work to do.”

Anthony snorted. “Since when have you ever gone to the library for legitimate reasons?”

Alastor’s smile sharpened that way it did whenever he was plotting something, and Anthony frowned, leaning away instinctively. In the year that they had known each other, Anthony—Angel Dust, to his close friends—had learned how to interpret many of Alastor’s more enigmatic expressions. When they had first met at the start of Anthony’s first semester at college, introduced to each other as new students who would be sharing a dorm, Alastor had immediately made quite an impression: he was handsome, he was mysterious, he was scary, and he was incredibly unavailable (as made perfectly clear by his laughter when Anthony’s first words to him had been some sort of proposition). It hadn’t taken Anthony long to realize that Alastor simply wasn’t interested in anyone or anything that way; however, it quickly became obvious that it was nothing like homophobia or prudishness, as he had no shortage of time to listen to complaints about the men Anthony was seeing nor lack of scathing opinions on each one of those men.

By the end of the first semester, Anthony and Alastor had become very close friends, to the point that they willingly agreed to remain together in the Spring. Now, in Anthony’s third semester, he had been given the option to move off-campus into an apartment or a house, but he’d elected to stay so that Alastor (who was on scholarship and unable to afford to live outside the dorms) wouldn’t have to get used to a new roomie.

Alastor had been surprised when Anthony told him this, but he had recovered quickly and said something to the effect of ‘I knew you would’. But he was happy about it, and no amount of smug posturing would convince Anthony otherwise.

“So, are we on the hunt for a new beau already?” Alastor asked, leaning around as though trying to look at Anthony’s phone again. The screen was off, but Anthony pulled it against his chest anyway. “I would think you’d be more concerned with your studies this semester, considering how abysmal you failed Calculus this past Spring.”

“Shut up,” Anthony said. “I ain’t lookin’ for a boyfriend, and I ain’t even after a hookup, necessarily. Just seein’ how the pool’s changed in the past few months. Ain’t gotten any better.”

Alastor scoffed, leaning one arm on the back of the couch and smirking at him. “I told you, most anyone you’ll find on those apps are going to be scum, because anyone who’s worth dating won’t be resorting to relying on them.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and turning his head away. “I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of callin’ you right.” Alastor didn’t answer. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

“You aren’t even looking at me.”

“I can feel it.” Anthony picked up one of their mismatched couch pillows and smacked Alastor in the side of the head with it. The other boy cackled, shielding himself ineffectually with his arms. “Besides, it’s lookin’ like layin’ off the scene will be for the best right now. Feels like half the guys on here are chasers, and the other half got some kinda ‘you’d better not be trans if you message me’ disclaimer right at the top. I don’t wanna deal with that shit right now.”

“Hm.” Alastor’s smile changed to something Anthony might have called a little bit sympathetic, but then, he shrugged. “Their loss,” he said. “Seems like they’d simply feel insecure about you having more testosterone than them.” Anthony laughed, and Alastor’s grin returned. “If you’re going to be off the market anyway, I suppose I should do what I can to make sure you don’t get lonely.”

Anthony smirked, wiggling his eyebrows briefly. “You propositioning me, Al?”

“What– no, stop that,” Alastor said quickly, color rising to his face as he pointed a single threatening finger and ignored Anthony’s cackle. “What I’m saying,” he said, loudly enough that Anthony’s laughter died down, “is that I have a project this semester, and I think it’s something you could help me with, if you’re amenable.”

“Does this involve me losin’ a finger or somethin’?”

“There is a non-zero chance, but it’s highly unlikely.”

Anthony frowned. “...I ain’t agreein’ to nothin’ until you tell me what it is.”

“Fine,” Alastor said, rolling his eyes. “I’m taking a class for my social psych minor this semester, Social Influence and Behavior. Essentially, studying the way that people react to others in social settings and the ways changes in one individual might influence changes in another.”

“We both know I ain’t got a clue what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”

Alastor leveled him with a look. “How one or two people acting weird can make the people around them act weird.”

“Oh, okay. I follow.”

“I thought you might. We were tasked with conducting an informal study over the course of the semester, the subject of which is up to our discretion. I thought you would be perfect to help me out with mine, since it’s… well. It’s fucking with our social circle and seeing how they respond.”

Anthony giggled. “Ooh, that sounds fun. A semester-long prank. Sure, I’m down, what are you thinkin’?”

Either Alastor suddenly looked a little bashful, or Anthony was imagining things. “Well, that’s… part of the reason I wanted to ask you, rather than anyone else,” he said, his voice as hesitant as Alastor’s ever got. “Most of my behavior isn’t considered unusual for me, and I was having trouble thinking of something I could do that the others would view as out of the ordinary. The best option that I landed on was dating someone.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up. “Dating someone?”

“You see?” Alastor gestured at him with one hand. “You’re surprised by the mere suggestion! It would be perfect!”

“So… wait.” Anthony held his own hands up. “Wait wait wait. Are you asking– I mean, what are you asking?”

“Don’t worry, it wouldn’t be really dating,” Alastor said, and Anthony wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or not. “But you and I really are quite different, and I’m given to understand that sort of thing is subject to quite a bit of social scrutiny, not to mention the idea of me in a relationship is certain to absolutely baffle everyone who has ever met me. And it has the added benefit of the fact that I trust you implicitly and am fully aware that you would not take advantage of this position to my detriment, in addition to the fact that I can rely on you for answers to any questions I might have about how to proceed after a time.”

Anthony was silent for a moment. On the one hand, it was incredibly funny, imagining how their friends would respond to the idea of them being in a relationship. On the other hand, while Anthony would never admit it, he’d been fostering an incredibly annoying crush on Alastor for the past several months and it was only getting worse, a fact that most of their friends (particularly Husk and Cherry) were very adamant Anthony needed to stop immediately. On the other other hand (and didn’t he wish he had more than two sometimes), he couldn’t help feeling deeply touched that of everyone Alastor knew, Anthony was the one that he trusted enough to rely on for this.

Plus, this might get Valentino to leave me alone, so that’s another upside.

“Yeah, sure,” Anthony finally said. “Why the fuck not?”

Alastor did that thing that he did when he was both surprised and excited, the thing that made Anthony imagine he had two big animal ears that had just perked up on the top of his head. “Really?”

“Really,” Anthony laughed. “Sounds like fun, as long as you can handle it.”

Alastor’s expression shifted into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Should be pretty obvious,” Anthony said with a shrug. “The only way this is gonna work is if we don’t act outta character, right?” Alastor nodded. “So… that means you’ve gotta put up with physical contact from me.”

The very idea made Alastor’s body stiffen up visibly. “...you’re talking about public affection.”

“PDA, yeah.” Anthony tilted his head. “Look, nobody’s gonna believe I’m datin’ someone I never lay a finger on, and they won’t buy that you’re actually in a relationship with anyone if you won’t ever let them touch you. You know how physical I am, so if you weren’t willin’ to put up with that, why would we go out at all?”

Alastor sighed, relaxing. “...you make a fair point,” he said. “But I will be setting ground rules, and you will be respecting them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you, Smiles,” Anthony said. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to make you uncomfortable intentionally, and I ain’t gonna do nothin’ without your consent. Just lettin’ you know that if you wanna sell this, we’re gonna have to commit.” He shrugged. “It’s like acting. Think of it as blocking.”

“...right,” Alastor said. “I can do that.”

“Cool. So…” Anthony hesitated. “Uh… when were you wanting to start?”

“As soon as possible.”

•••

“Good morning, everyone!”

The responses ranged from enthusiastic (Charlie) to barely a grunt of acknowledgement (Husk) as Alastor slung his bag over the back of a chair and lowered himself into it. Niffty leaned across the table, pushing a cup of coffee in front of him. “Here,” she said. “We ordered already. We got you your usual.”

“You’re a peach,” Alastor said, patting Niffty on the top of her head and picking up the coffee cup. She smiled, sinking back into her seat. The morning was crisp with just a touch of the scent of autumn in the air, barely detectable under the bouquet of smells coming from the cafe. While Alastor had always preferred studying on his own, he had to admit that he didn’t exactly mind getting roped into this little study group that Charlie insisted on hosting every Saturday morning. They always sat around the same large table together, Charlie paid for everyone with her father’s money (and Alastor didn’t mind wasting that), and it usually devolved into something more fun than simple school work.

“Where’s Angel?” Charlie asked. “He’s coming, right?”

“He’d better be, I ordered the bitch pancakes,” Cherry said.

“It’s a morning study session.” Pentious brushed his long hair back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the table as a whole. “I don’t think Angel’s seen this side of an ante meridiem hour since he left high school and I’m not positive why any of you keep thinking he will.”

Husk snorted. “It’s a tossup,” he said. “He’ll either show up for free food or avoid it because it means work.”

“He’ll be here,” Alastor said. “Don’t worry.”

Rosie laughed. “What, did you wake him up before you left?”

“I threw things on him until he yelled at me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

No one was giving him any kind of unusual look (as far as he could determine), which was something of a relief; it meant that, no matter how Alastor might have been feeling in the moment, the others at the table weren’t suspicious of anything. It wasn’t that Alastor was nervous—what reason did he have to be nervous? It was only Anthony, and they had known each other for over a year at this point—but, as the one with no experience on how romantic relationships were supposed to be conducted at various points, he was incredibly uncertain as to what he was supposed to expect. Anthony had promised him, repeatedly, that he would do his best to keep from making Alastor uncomfortable while simultaneously doing his part to make their little scheme believable, but that told him absolutely nothing about what Anthony might actually do.

Of course, the fact did remain that he trusted Anthony. When they had first met, Alastor had noted his friendliness, and the moment he registered that it was flirting and had expressed his personal distaste for such things, Anthony had stopped immediately. In fact, outside of a handful of exceptions (bumping into each other in their tiny kitchen, grabbing Alastor by the hand when his bad leg gave out and he nearly fell down the stairs outside the library, that one time he’d helped with a particularly stubborn cuff button that Alastor simply could not fasten one-handed), Anthony had taken pains not to make any physical contact with Alastor whatsoever. Despite his friend’s reputation around campus and in various social circles, Alastor had always found him respectful with his hands, even if he had no idea how to control his mouth.

“Oh, there he is! Hi, Angel!” Charlie said, interrupting Alastor’s thoughts. She raised her hand and he followed the line of her gaze to Anthony, who returned the wave with one hand before he lowered it to stifle a yawn. He headed for the table, letting his bag drop onto the floor and slumping into the chair next to Alastor.

“Morning, princess,” Alastor said with a smirk, watching Anthony scrub his face with both hands. “Long night?”

“Nnh. Sleepy. Coffee.”

Niffty began sliding another coffee across the table, but she froze the moment Anthony leaned over and laid his head on Alastor’s shoulder. Alastor jumped slightly, but Anthony remained still, giving him time to adjust to the sensation without giving away their game immediately. It actually wasn’t that bad, after the initial shock of the touch; as a matter of fact, Anthony was actually pretty gentle as he leaned against him, and the white hair brushing against Alastor’s cheek was soft, but not in a way that tickled or irritated.

Is this what it feels like? I can do this.

Alastor leaned to the side as well, pressing his cheek against the top of Anthony’s head before the other young man could move away. “Well, sha, if you’d gotten up when I told you I was getting ready, you could have walked with me and had coffee sooner.”

“Okay, Mr. My Hair And Clothes Always Look Perfect With Zero Effort. Some of us actually have to work to look presentable.”

“…uhm… here, Angel, we got you coffee too,” Niffty finally said, pushing the mug towards him. She was still staring wide-eyed, and Alastor was fairly positive she hadn’t blinked once.

“Oh my god, you’re perfect.”

While Anthony sat up to wrap both hands around the mug and take a careful sip, Alastor took the opportunity to take a quick glance around. Everyone was staring, a variety of expressions on their faces, but no matter what they were thinking it was quite clear that everyone was confused. Alastor kept his usual smile in place; it was really hard not to laugh when Charlie started to ask a tentative question only to get cut off by the arrival of their food.

Alastor turned his head again at a tugging on his sleeve. “Yes, sha?”

“What’d you get?” Anthony asked, his gaze fixed on Alastor’s bowl of pecan oatmeal like he had no idea what it was.

Immediately, he was hit with sudden inspiration. Instead of answering, Alastor got a small mouthful on his spoon and held it up. “Want some?”

Anthony nodded before opening his mouth, instantly reminding Alastor of a baby bird. Alastor fed him the spoonful (he had seen insufferable couples do that in public before), and Anthony ate it happily, humming one of those little songs he hummed when he thought something tasted really good.

“…so…” Charlie finally said. Alastor looked her direction, and was gratified to see that Husk was staring, his mouth slightly open and his face frozen in an expression of confusion that didn’t know if it wanted to be angry or not. “What, um… what’s going on with you two?”

“Going on?” Alastor asked, his smile widening. “My dear Charlie, whatever makes you think there’s something going on?”

“You don’t share food,” Vaggie said, gesturing between them sharply, her brow furrowed.

Rosie held one hand up, her wrist going limp instantly. “You two aren’t actually… y’know…”

“Of course they aren’t,” Cherri said immediately.

“They aren’t what?” Pentious asked, looking around the table quickly. “What? What’s happening?”

Alastor shrugged, looking at Anthony. “You want to tell them?”

“I like makin’ them wonder.” Anthony giggled a little before rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine. Yeah, we’re datin’, you wanna make somethin’ of it?”

Instantly, Niffty muffled a squeal with her hands, and Husk quite confidently said, “Bullshit,” while Cherri almost shrieked the word ‘bitch’ in shock before vaulting out of her chair and running over to start berating Anthony for not calling her (though why he would have was beyond Alastor; he’d have to ask once they were alone).

“When did this happen?” Charlie asked, her eyes wide and her voice doing that ‘I’m about to burst with excitement’ vibrating thing it did before she burst into happy tears.

“Last night,” Alastor said. “I’m sorry, were we supposed to take out space for an announcement in the campus newsletter?”

“No, no, of course not!” Charlie said, waving her hands in front of her face. “I just— I’m happy for you!”

“…thank you?”

“Ignore them, darling,” Rosie said with a casual wave of her hand. “I’ll simply say it’s about fucking time and let it drop.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes at her, which just made her smile grow. “What is about fucking time, exactly?”

“No no, too late, I dropped it. Niffty knows what I mean.”

He turned to squint at Niffty, who still had her hands clasped over her mouth and was nodding furiously. Alastor narrowed his eyes further. “…have we been the subject of gossip?”

“Uh, duh,” Niffty said finally. “And if you weren’t always so damn mysterious, we wouldn’t have to do that!”

As Alastor was processing this, he felt a knuckle thump his shoulder. He turned to look up at Husk, who was looking down at him with an unreadable expression. “Can I talk to you?”

Alastor glanced down at where Husk had tapped him, then back up; normally, that was enough to get him to back down, but he didn’t budge. “Of course.”

He excused himself and followed Husk out the front door, then around to the side of the building where they couldn’t be observed. Once out of sight, Husk turned to him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“At the moment? Being systematically prevented from consuming my most important meal of the day.”

“Cut the shit, Alastor. You know what I mean.”

Alastor held his hands out as he shrugged. “I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult, Husker. Angel is a perfectly delightful young man. Is there something so wrong with someone wishing to pursue a relationship with him?”

“Normally, no,” Husk said, raising an eyebrow. “But this is you that we’re talking about. You aren’t capable of doing things without ulterior motives.”

“You know me so well.” Alastor didn’t let his smile slip. “What’s next, going to tell me that if I break his heart you’ll break my kneecaps?”

Husk scoffed. “No. Angel’s gonna be in arm’s reach of you, he’ll kill you just fine by himself. But if you’re playing some kind of game, you really might want to rethink this, because while we won’t interfere with whatever he decides to do on his own, his siblings might.”

Oh. Shit. I didn’t think about them.

Anthony’s twin sister, Maria, and older brother, Bernardino—affectionately known as “Molly” and “Arackniss” in their little circle— were textbook examples of avoiding even the pretense of subtlety. While much of Anthony’s speech and behavior could be written off as just him being from New York, Molly had been described as “a Long Island princess who might have a gun in her purse at any given moment”, and Arackniss always sounded like he was a sentence away from threatening to give someone a pair of cement shoes. Alastor wasn’t afraid of them, of course; no, he had only ever feared one person in his life, and that honor belonged to his beloved mother. However, Anthony had made it painfully clear that, whatever issues he had with his siblings (particularly Arackniss), they were his problems and anyone who fucked with his siblings would be very unlikely to see the next morning.

Alastor wasn’t afraid of Anthony, either, but that didn’t change the fact that the thought of upsetting him was deeply unpleasant.

Apparently, he had been quiet too long, because Husk’s expression flattened out into something closer to derisive disbelief. “You didn’t even think about it, did you?”

“I deeply appreciate your concern, Husker,” Alastor said, skirting around the question and laying his hands on either of Husk’s shoulders. “But you have nothing at all to fret about! I know exactly what I’m doing, and Anthony is perfectly capable of handling his family on his own.”

Husk sighed, rolling his eyes. “Your funeral, brother.”

When they returned to the table, Anthony gave Alastor a curious look, but Alastor waved to him, their signal for ‘I’ll tell you later’ when either of them had gossip that needed to be discussed privately. The conversation redirected itself almost immediately, for which Alastor was grateful. He enjoyed being the center of attention, of course, but being barraged with questions made it infinitely harder to just sit and observe his surroundings. That was, after all, the point of all of this.

As they were all getting up to leave, Anthony said, “C’mon, babe. I need some new threads and you said you’d give me your most cuttin’ and brutal opinions.”

Alastor had said nothing of the sort, but he knew coded language when he heard it. “Of course, sha.” He waved to the others, all of whom were staring as they left the cafe together and began walking in the direction of the nearby shopping center. Once they were far enough away and Alastor had determined they weren’t being tailed, he allowed himself a small cackle. “That went well.”

Anthony giggled. “Shit, no kidding. I expected a reaction, but fuck. …hehe.”

Alastor frowned at him. “…what?”

“Butt fuck,” Anthony repeated.

Perplexed, Alastor continued to stare until recognition hit him. “You are hopelessly foul and I hope you walk in front of an oncoming bus.”

This time, Anthony’s laugh was full and genuine. “I’m draggin’ you with me, bitch!” He then directed that smile onto Alastor. “So… I know you didn’t actually agree to shop with me, but d’you mind comin’ anyway? I’ll buy you a soft pretzel.”

Somewhere deep inside, Alastor thought, You don’t have to bribe me, sha. I can’t say no when you give me that smile.

It was a ridiculous thought, but it was far from the first time it had crossed Alastor’s mind, so he dismissed it. “Oh, very well,” he said, playing up the visage of being put-upon enough that no one could mistake it for true reluctance. “I suppose I had nothing else to do, anyway.”

This was going to be a lot of fun, Alastor decided. He couldn’t wait to see everyone’s faces when they learned the whole thing had been a ruse.

•••

Word travels real fuckin’ fast, apparently.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”

Anthony rolled his eyes visibly as he continued putting away the clothes Alastor had helped him pick out. Molly and Arackniss had been waiting outside their dorm room when they returned, and the moment Alastor registered their presence, he suddenly remembered he had something to do in the library and ran away (like a goddamn coward) before either of them noticed him. Naturally, they had started badgering Anthony instantly, following him into the dorm and hardly pausing for breath, let alone any kind of explanation.

Molly wrapped her arms around her legs, glaring up at him. “What, you think you can just not tell us and we won’t find out? That it?”

“If that’s what it was, I wouldn’t never text either of you,” Anthony said, carefully cutting the tag off of a shirt he had decided he wouldn’t be returning. “I was gonna tell you.”

Arackniss scoffed, not straightening up from where he was leaning against the wall next to Anthony’s closet. “Sure you were, Tony,” he said sarcastically.

“I was!” Anthony countered, flinging an empty shopping bag at his brother. “It happened late last night, I had study bullshit this morning, ain’t like I’ve been keepin’ it for weeks or somethin’.”

He could practically hear his siblings exchanging looks behind his back as he put hangars up in his closet. “...you went to a study session,” Molly said finally.

“Yeah.”

“You. Went to a study session.”

“Yes,” Anthony said, carefully controlling his voice so he wasn’t snapping at her. “You’re actin’ like I ain’t never studied a day in my life.”

“Well… not on purpose, anyway,” Arackniss said.

Before Anthony could counter, Molly said, “Didn’t you say he don’t do… y’know. Sex and stuff?”

Anthony frowned at her over his shoulder. “...yeah,” he said. “Not that it’s any of your business. What’s your point?”

“Well…” Molly looked at Arackniss.

He picked up on whatever signal it was, taking over from her. “Tony, you ain’t never dated anybody in your life, and now you’re sayin’ you’re exclusive with a guy who doesn’t even like sex?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “I don’t care,” he said. “He told me he don’t mind if I keep up my cam work, and anyway, ain’t there more to a relationship than just fuckin’ all the time?”

“Well… yeah,” Arackniss said.

“We’re just surprised you think that,” Molly added.

Anthony turned to them and held up his hands. ‘Y’know what? Fuck both of you,” he said; he didn’t put any real heat in the words, and just looking at their expressions told him they didn’t take it seriously. “I like him, and he likes me, and I don’t give a shit about anything else. And even if it wasn’t for that, I’d stay with him just to piss you off.”

Molly actually giggled at that. “Sounds about right. And I’m guessin’ the aneurysm Ma’d have about you bringin’ home a boyfriend—”

“Who’s both southern and black,” Arackniss interjected.

“—don’t hurt your decision none, either.”

Anthony cackled. “She’s gonna be so pissed, and don’t get me started on Pop.”

“Well, they won’t disown you,” Arackniss said thoughtfully. “I was fuckin’ certain they would when you started your transition. Pops still asks me if you’ve stopped ‘that testosterone shit’ every time we talk.”

Anthony raised his eyebrow. “And?”

“I say no. And then I call you Tony and he hangs up on me.”

He snorted, grinning. If he actually liked his parents, that would have been incredibly painful to hear. Instead, while his parents’ actions made him mad, listening to how his siblings handled it always filled him with a sense of bitter satisfaction. “Ain’t you the best big brother.”

“You fuckin’ know it.”

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Molly asked. “You got bad taste in men, Tony, and a guy like him…”

“I’m sure,” Anthony said. He meant it, too, but in a much different way than either Molly or Arackniss were taking it. Did he really like Alastor enough to put up with this?

…yeah. He did. And that wasn’t going to cause any problems in the future, because he wouldn’t let it. He valued Alastor’s trust and friendship too much to let it.

•••

Alastor had known there would be… reactions, to put it mildly, when news got out that he and Anthony were ‘dating’. In fact, he had been counting on it; otherwise, how was he going to get any sort of data for his project? He simply hadn’t been expecting so many reactions to be quite so visceral or loud.

That study breakfast had only been the first social hurdle. Over the next month, he’d been yelled at by Vox (who’d had a strangely passionate reaction to the news, and for the life of him, Alastor couldn’t figure out why he was so upset), threatened with extreme bodily harm by Valentino, stalked through the library and the rest of the campus by Blitzø and his three little cohorts, aggressively grilled by both Molly and Arackniss, and been stared at by Zestial with an intensity he could feel from the other side of the quad.

It was still funny, of course, but for some reason, it was also sort of… bothering him? Annoying him? He wasn’t sure the phrase that best communicated how he was feeling, just that there was something unpleasant about everyone behaving as though he wasn’t good enough to be Anthony’s boyfriend. Fake relationship or not, it was hard not to take that kind of thing personally.

Maybe that was why, in mid October, he finally broke down and grabbed his phone to make a call.

He was laying on his bed with his head at the foot, turned onto his side with his phone resting on the side of his head without either hand keeping it in place. It freed them up to allow him to pick at the cheap comforter he broke out once it started getting too cold in the building. The phone rang twice in his ear before he heard a click, followed by the soft, comforting sound of a controlled alto voice. “Hello, Alastor.”

“Hi, maman,” Alastor said, unable to keep a smile off his face. “Catch you at a bad time?”

“Nah. Just gettin’ some packages ready for the store this week,” she answered. Just the sound of her Louisiana drawl was soothing after so many unpleasant conversations. “Somethin’s botherin’ you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Alastor still asked, “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You never call this late unless you got somethin’ on your mind, kiddo.”

He sighed. Either she was too perceptive or he was growing too predictable. It might have been both, for all he knew. “I… did something, and I wanted to tell you about it.”

There was a soft, distant thud, and he could tell his mother had just put down whatever was in her hand. “I’m not gettin’ another letter from your school,” she said; it was almost a question, but it might as well have been a threat.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Alastor hesitated, pulling on a thread in his comforter until it snapped. “I… asked someone out.”

A very long pause followed that, long enough that he almost asked if she was still there. “Is that so?” his mother asked finally. “You went on a date?”

Alastor shook his head, even though she couldn’t hear it. “It’s complicated, but no. I mean we’re dating.”

“I see.” Another pause. “It’s Anthony, isn’t it?”

Alastor put his hand on his phone and sat up. “How the hell—”

“Oh, please, Alastor.” He could sense her rolling her eyes at him. “After everythin’ you’ve told me ‘bout that boy, I knew if you’d be askin’ anyone out, it’d be him.”

He wasn’t sure what to say in response to that. He wanted to say that it was a fake relationship, or… something, he didn’t know what. “...do you think I’m making a mistake?” he asked instead.

“Who knows?” He could hear her chopping something on a cutting board. “But I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, you can’t wait to know if everythin’ you’re gonna do is gonna end up goin’ well. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe it’s not. You won’t know until you do it.”

That was a good point, but Alastor wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Are you happy?”

Was he? Alastor thought for a long moment. It wasn’t something he had really considered, always having considered himself fairly content with his life so long as his decisions were just that: his own decisions. Did that mean he was happy? “...yeah,” he said, his voice soft with the realization that he wasn’t lying. “I am.”

“That’s all I care about. I’m happy for you, baby.”

The rest of the conversation was fairly standard, Alastor asking about how things were back home and his mother asking about his studies. When they said goodbye, he realized he actually felt a lot better. He hadn’t realized how much he needed just a little bit of approval. Everything seemed considerably lighter as he got up and left his small room, heading over to knock on Anthony’s door. “Hey, Angel,” he called. “You in there?”

“Yep. C’mon in, ain’t locked.”

Alastor let himself in, opening the door to see Anthony sitting in the middle of his bed with his medication box open in front of him. “Oh. HRT. Bad time?”

Anthony shook his head, drawing his dose out of the bottle. “Nah, s’long as you don’t mind watchin’ me stab myself.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem.” When Anthony gestured to the bed, Alastor sat down, looking over his supplies. “Need any help?”

Anthony glanced at him. “...you any good at givin’ shots?”

“I… have done it before,” Alastor hedged. “Why?”

“Because gettin’ it in my arm hurts less, but I gotta hold the skin taut, so I can’t do it by myself. Usually gotta do it in the thigh and sometimes it bleeds a lot.”

Alastor tilted his head. “...would you like me to give you your shot?”

“If you don’t mind, yeah.”

“You trust me to do that?”

Anthony raised an eyebrow at him. “If you hurt me on purpose, I’ll stab you with my drawin’ needle myself.”

Alastor chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Anthony showed him the proper place to stab, and Alastor held the skin as taut as he could, carefully slipping the needle straight into the muscle just below his shoulder. Anthony sucked in a breath, but he didn’t make any noise of pain, so Alastor made sure he wasn’t drawing blood before he slowly pushed the plunger down. Anthony made another sound, one that made Alastor feel a little strange, and he aggressively pushed the thought out of his mind as he removed the needle. “All done. Bandage?”

“Here,” Anthony said, offering one out to him. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Alastor removed the little round adhesive bandage and carefully covered the puncture wound. Then, on something of a whim, he leaned forward and kissed the spot. “There you go.”

When he sat up, Anthony was actually blushing. “Uh… thanks,” he said, his voice uncertain.

Alastor felt his own face heating up. Why did I do that? He refused to let it show in his expression or voice, just smiling as he stood up. “You have early class tomorrow. You should get to bed.”

Anthony groaned. “I can’t believe you talked me into taking an 8 AM class,” he complained, not for the first time. “You’re the literal worst.”

Alastor’s smile widened. “I am, aren’t I?”

Anthony flipped him off and Alastor laughed as he left the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it for just a second, his hand still wrapped around the handle.

The fuck is wrong with me?

•••

A week after the HRT incident—Anthony wasn’t sure what else he should call it—he found himself in Alastor’s room, both of them sitting on his bed and idly playing gin without paying much attention to it. The cards were just something to do with their hands, most of their conversation focused on the latest gossip and talking about the various upcoming Halloween activities, such as several campus parties, the parade, and the massive haunted house that was always open the whole of Halloween week.

“You gonna go do anythin’ this year?” Anthony asked.

“I never do,” Alastor said, drawing a card from the deck and tossing one down.

Anthony smirked. “That’s why I’m askin’ this year. You wanna?”

He’d expected Alastor to buck at the suggestion, but instead, he looked thoughtful. “What did you have in mind?”

“Haunted house and Charlie’s party,” Anthony said. “Thought maybe, if you were down, we could do a couple’s costume and really weird people out.”

That actually made Alastor perk up. “Yes, absolutely, we’re doing that.”

Anthony laughed. “Great. We’ll go shoppin’ for stuff tomorrow, then.”

The silence that followed was thoughtful. Anthony had known Alastor had something on his mind for the whole evening (for the past week, really), but he wasn’t sure how to ask. It turned out he didn’t have to, though, because Alastor finally spoke again after almost ten minutes of playing cards in silence. “You’ve dated people before, right?”

“Hm? Yeah, kinda,” Anthony said. “Nothin’ that lasted more than a couple’a months, tho. Why?”

Alastor went into a much shorter thoughtful silence. If Anthony didn’t know better, he’d say he was hesitating. “Do you…” Alastor began, then shook his head and started over. “What do you usually do when you’re dating someone? And you don’t have to spare me details just because of my delicate constitution.”

Anthony grinned at that. “Well… we go out, like you and I’ve been doin’. But the dates ain’t usually so frequent.”

Alastor frowned. “Your boyfriends ignored you?” he asked, actually sounding a little bit pissed off on his behalf.

“No, no. I mean… not exactly,” Anthony hedged. “More we didn’t… leave that often.”

“...Angel. I already told you, you don’t have to spare me details.”

“Okay, okay,” Anthony said. “We spent a whole lot more time either makin’ out or fuckin’ than we did goin’ out to dinner or whatever.”

Alastor was quiet for a moment. “...I see,” he said. “And that was… fun, to you?”

“Sure,” Anthony said with a shrug. “You know I like sex. I like kissin’, too. I mean, as long as the guy’s good at it,” he added with a faint sneer. “Why d’you ask?”

“Curiosity. Also, a desire to keep people from catching on,” Alastor said. “I mean… I had noticed those bruises on your neck after you had a successful night out.”

“I never cared if someone saw that I got hickies.” Anthony frowned at him. “...what are you sayin’, exactly?”

Alastor looked somewhat embarrassed. “Simply that it was incredibly common for you to have them, and if you continue to… not… won’t some people start getting suspicious?”

Anthony wasn’t sure how he was supposed to take this. “Alastor, people know you ain’t into this kinda thing. I don’t think people are gonna be suspicious because you didn’t spontaneously grow a libido.” Oddly, Alastor looked even more embarrassed, and now Anthony was positive he wasn’t aware of it. The other young man was actually ducking his head into his shoulders somewhat, and he was avoiding meeting Anthony’s eyes more than usual. Anthony hesitated, but… Fuck it, he thought. He told me to be direct. “Alastor, are you curious about makin’ out or somethin’?”

Alastor threw his hands up before he put his head in his hands, staring down at the cards in the discard pile. “I don’t know,” he groaned. “You’re confusing.”

“Me? The fuck did I do?”

“I don’t know,” Alastor repeated, more insistently. “I’d truly never contemplated this kind of thing before, but I… yes, I suppose I’m curious.” The aggressive way he said it made Anthony pretty sure he had to force it out.

“...you wanna make out?” Anthony asked, trying his best not to sound too hopeful.

Alastor laughed a little, but he didn’t raise his head. “I believe you said you enjoy that provided the guy is good at it, right?”

“You sayin’ you’re a bad kisser or somethin’?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” Alastor said dryly, raising his eyes just enough to give Anthony a single quirked eyebrow.

Anthony shrugged. “If you ain’t done it before, then you can’t say you’re not good.”

Alastor stared at him, like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “...you know, most people are bad at things the first time they do them.”

“Depends on how fast a learner they are.” When Alastor looked uncomfortable again, Anthony said, “I got a better idea.” Alastor raised his head once more as Anthony moved back to lean against Alastor’s pillow and headboard, then motioned to Alastor to come closer. “C’mere.”

Frowning, Alastor scooted over to him. “What, precisely, are we doing?”

“Cuddles.” When his best friend made a predictably skeptical face, Anthony continued, “All innocent, I promise. Hands above clothes. Won’t even touch your hair if you don’t want me to. Just a test to see how you feel about the closeness.”

“...well… alright.” When Alastor moved next to him, Anthony helped him get settled. They ended up with Anthony still on his back, one arm around Alastor’s shoulders, and Alastor on his side with his head on Anthony’s shoulder-chest-area and arm across his abdomen.

At first, Alastor was predictably stiff, holding himself like he was either ready to spring up at any second or like he was afraid of putting too much weight on Anthony. After a few moments, however, he began relaxing, and Anthony took the opportunity to place his hand on Alastor’s upper arm and carefully run his hand down to his elbow, then up to his shoulder, then back, making sure the touch was firm enough not to trigger unpleasant physical sensation. “How’s that?”

“Mmn,” Alastor said. There was a long pause. “Your sweater is soft.”

“Yep. You comfy?”

“Mhm.”

In minutes, all of Anthony’s fears of chasing Alastor off were replaced with the thought of never being able to get up ever again as his dorm mate gradually became almost dead weight on top of him. He managed to fish his phone out of his pocket, then found a decent YouTube playlist and set the phone up with its pop socket on Alastor’s little bedside table so they had something to do that didn’t require movement.

After nearly an hour, Alastor stopped responding to Anthony. He looked down and couldn’t resist smiling when he noticed that Alastor had fallen asleep, his cheek pressed against Anthony’s chest and his glasses threatening to fall off. Anthony carefully took the frames off his friend’s face, folded them, and set them on the table. He thought about slipping out and going back to his own room, but the moment he tried to move, Alastor’s grip tightened.

Ah well. Fuck it.

It really was comfortable, after all.

•••

It got to the point that they were cuddling every time they were alone.

At first, Alastor had felt the compulsion to make up excuses for his behavior—it was cold, it was more practical so they could read the same book, they were both tired and they could each lay on the couch that way—but eventually he stopped trying. The fact of the matter was simple: he liked it. Anthony never questioned him, thankfully, but he couldn’t help wondering if he was behaving too strangely. After all, this wasn’t supposed to be a real relationship, and sometimes Alastor felt like he was taking advantage of the situation. He had simply never really been in a position to be so close to someone on such a regular basis, particularly not someone he wanted to be close to, and now that Anthony had opened the door… Alastor had discovered he really, really liked the contact.

Snow was falling gently as the two of them left the dormitory together, the moonlight casting silvery light off the blankets of white all around them, illuminating their walk off campus and to the small neighborhood where Charlie, Vaggie, Niffty, and Cherri were all renting a house together. Alastor couldn’t help laughing as Anthony shivered, pulling his hat down over his ears and his scarf up over his face before tucking his hands into the pockets of his huge white coat. “Cold?” he asked mildly.

“Fuckin’ freezing,” Anthony answered.

“You’d think you’d be used to the cold,” Alastor observed; he was cold, too, but he was certainly handling it better than his friend. “Yankee and all that.”

“Yeah well it doesn’t work like that.”

Alastor chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll have cider and you can warm yourself up.”

“Mmn.” Anthony looked at him, curiosity obvious on every inch of what was visible of his face. “Semester ends next week.”

“That it does. You going home?”

“Only if I can’t come up with an excuse to go somewhere else,” Anthony said. “You?”

“Can’t,” Alastor said. “Don’t have the money to travel. The dean’s letting me stay in the dorm over the break. I don’t think I’m the only one who’s staying, anyway.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay with you,” Anthony said. “Unless you’re just dying to have the place to yourself.”

Alastor glanced at him, surprised. “Oh… no, not particularly,” he said. “You know I get bored when I’m left on my own for too long, anyway.”

Anthony laughed. “You’d go through all my shit.”

“I don’t know where half of your belongings have been. No thank you.”

“Shut up,” Anthony said, punching Alastor lightly in the shoulder. “...your project is due next week, I guess?”

Alastor hadn’t let himself think about it very much. “Yeah. I need to finish writing it this weekend.”

“Boring.”

There was something else Anthony wanted to ask, Alastor could almost taste it. He could probably guess what it was, too.

Are we going to tell people it was a prank tonight?

Alastor was glad he didn’t ask, because honestly, he wasn’t sure what answer he would have given.

The house was decorated to an almost nauseating degree with lights, winter-themed foliage, and various lawn decorations of both the inflatable and the non-inflatable varieties. The door was open before they got a chance to knock, and Charlie (beaming from ear to ear as usual) waved them in. “Hi guys! Come on in, come on, it’s freezing outside!”

“You said it,” Anthony said, stepping in past her and pulling off his hat and scarf. His cheeks and nose were all pink, and Alastor had the bizarre thought that it was very cute. “Sorry we’re late.”

“Oh, no, you aren’t,” Charlie said as she took both of their outerwear and hung them up. “Everybody’s in either the living room or the kitchen, and my dad’s here, and I already made him promise to behave so you’d better also behave or I’ll do something drastic,” she added, pointing at Alastor’s nose.

He felt himself go cross-eyed before he nipped lightly at the air towards her finger, making her withdraw her hand. “Like what?”

“Like telling your boyfriend on you,” Charlie said decisively.

Alastor wasn’t sure what to say to that. He settled on, “My, haven’t we grown unreasonably cruel.”

“I’ll beat him up for you, sweetheart, don’t worry,” Anthony said, giving Alastor a wink.

They headed into the room where the Yule party was just getting into swing. Alastor took a moment to absorb the scene: Husk, Cherri, Niffty, and Blitzø were in front of some kind of complicated-looking board game, but they looked more like they were arguing over it than actually playing, while Stolas sat behind Blitzø looking through the rules pamphlet like he was trying to make sense of it; Pentious was sitting in front of Vaggie’s record player, holding up different records to Millie and Moxxie (who were occupying the same chair) like he was getting opinions on what to play next; Vaggie and Luna were at the island connecting the kitchen to the living room and appeared to be doing Jell-O shots; and from the sound of things, everyone else was in the kitchen, which suited Alastor just fine.

He followed Anthony to the center of the room, returning greetings as they were noticed, but they didn’t get far before Rosie appeared and thrust cups of hot cider into both of their hands. “Here, you both look frozen to death,” she said.

“Thank you, my dear,” Alastor said. “How’s the drama this evening?”

“Woefully undramatic,” she said, looking incredibly disappointed. “But I’m sure something will crop up for us to talk about for the next month.”

Anthony grinned. “It better. That’s the only reason I come to this shit.” He leaned closer to her and added in a lower voice, “Then again, maybe someone should just make some drama.”

Rosie leaned in the same distance and responded in the same tone, “If I get my way, I will be.”

“Ooh, dish, what?”

She grinned. “Gonna sleep with Charlie’s dad.” Alastor immediately choked on his cider, and before he could form words, she waved. “Ta, boys,” she trilled, heading back for the kitchen.

“Rosie!” Alastor snapped at her retreating back. “You are a hussy!”

“No, darling, I’m a harlot!”

In spite of the warnings, threats, and threats disguised as warnings, the evening progressed rather smoothly. Niffty was imposing strict limits on the drinking to prevent anyone from getting out of control (“Do not wreck this house, we are renting it!”), which meant the arguing never went too far and no fights broke out, not even from Cherri. When Alastor and Lucifer finally did lay eyes on each other, it was from across the room, but with Anthony and Charlie to steer them away from each other, he didn’t get a chance to do more than tauntingly smirk at the pompous asshole. There were some other people there that Alastor didn’t know—apparently, they were Lucifer’s work friends, but Charlie referred to them as aunts and uncles, so he wasn’t sure what to think—but he managed to avoid interacting too much with strangers, which was usually the reason he didn’t go to parties.

Roughly three hours later, after people had eaten and were milling around again, Alastor found himself sitting on a couch with Blitzø on one side of him and Millie on the other, deep in a conversation about (of all things) French Impressionist film and halfway through his fourth glass of cider when he felt Blitzø nudge his arm with his elbow. “What?” he asked, looking down at him.

“Look,” was his only answer, nodding to somewhere on the other side of the room.

Alastor obliged, his eyes landing on Anthony, who was talking with Niffty (about her clothes, judging by both of their body language). “...it’s Angel,” he said, perplexed. “What’s your point?”

Blitzø rolled his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking dumbass,” he said. “Look, will you?”

He still had no idea what the other guy was on about when Millie went, “Ooooh, I see,” and immediately started giggling.

“What?” Alastor asked, when neither of them explained.

Almost immediately, he felt someone lean against the couch. “Hey, honey,” Moxxie said, leaning down to kiss Millie on the head. “What’s so funny?”

“Look,” Millie said unhelpfully, pointing subtly over at where Anthony and Niffty were standing.

Moxxie squinted at him. “I have no idea what you’re– oh, no, I see.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Alastor said, looking at Moxxie. “What are you three talking about?”

Fortunately for him, Moxxie was basically incapable of not sharing information when he knew something. “Look over his head.”

Alastor sighed, looked at Anthony, then looked up, and– Oh, he thought, color rising to his cheeks. “...isn’t mistletoe a little… corny?”

“Nah, I think it’s romantic,” Millie said, clasping her hands together at her chest. “Besides, y’know Charlie wouldn’t’a put it up if it weren’t supposed t’, y’know, inspire.”

Alastor rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “I don’t– I mean, Angel probably wouldn’t… you know…”

“Are you kidding? You think Mr. PDA would get all embarrassed if you kissed him?” Blitzø asked skeptically. “Besides, he’s standing under it, he’s practically begging–”

“I swear t’ god Blitzø if you say he’s askin’ for it I will eat yer kneecaps.”

“Well, he is!”

“You could always just ask,” Moxxie told Alastor as the other two immediately started bickering about ‘appropriate language’. “And if you aren’t comfortable, obviously, don’t do it.”

Am I comfortable with something like this?

A few months ago, Alastor would have just laughed at the question, or given some kind of sarcastic form of ‘no’ if pressed to answer. But now… he didn’t know if he was or not, and he was finally realizing that he was never going to know if he was or wasn’t unless he actually tried something. He just nodded to Moxxie, finished the rest of his cider all at once, and thrust the empty glass at Blitzø. “This was your idea, so you have to hold this.”

“What– yeah, okay, man, go get some.”

Alastor ignored him, getting to his feet and crossing the room to where Anthony was standing. The closer he got, the more clearly he could hear his voice; he was aware that his own thoughts were somewhat jumbled, but there was one thing he knew for absolute certain. It was something he had been thinking for days, a deeply sober sentiment that he knew the alcohol was not influencing one iota.

I don’t want him to go.

“Oh, hey, Al,” Anthony said, turning when he noticed him. “You’re not leavin’, are you?”

“No,” Alastor said, shaking his head. He thought to say something else, but he didn’t; he couldn’t do anything but just look at Anthony.

Apparently, this was odd. Anthony frowned, tilting his head. “...you okay?” he asked at length.

“What? Yeah. Yes,” Alastor corrected. “I’m fine. It’s just… I…” He wasn’t sure how to say it, and on reflex, he glanced up at the mistletoe again.

It wasn’t meant to direct Anthony’s own gaze, but it did, and the moment he registered the little bit of green decor, his cheeks flooded with pink. “...oh.”

Alastor was only vaguely aware of Niffty scurrying away, giggling. Anthony looked back down at him, both of them at a loss for words. Alastor wasn’t used to his speech failing him, because his words were how he had always navigated through life. It was how he had gotten himself out of trouble, and sometimes into it, for many years. But now… what was he supposed to say?

Anthony wasn’t speaking either. But he also wasn’t moving. Alastor didn’t know what to make of it. All he knew was that all of this thinking was making it worse, so instead of thinking, he would just do something.

When he first leaned forward and kissed Anthony, the other young man gasped, as though so much buildup still hadn’t prepared him. Before Alastor could even think about moving away, Anthony flung his arms around Alastor’s shoulders and pulled him closer. Even though they didn’t part lips, even Anthony was out of breath when they parted, and Alastor was fairly certain both of their faces were on fire.

He only noticed the room was silent when someone yelled, “Hell yeah!” which triggered either laughter or vehement shushing from most everyone else in the room. Anthony immediately started giggling, burying his face in Alastor’s shoulder.

Alastor couldn’t bring himself to look at the rest of the room. It wasn’t just because it was embarrassing, it was because the sight of Anthony flushed so pink and overcome with laughter was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “...are you ready to go?” he murmured.

“Mhm,” Anthony said into Alastor’s shoulder, nodding.

No one seemed terribly surprised when they took their leave, bundling back up in their coats and heading out into the snow once more. The walk back felt both longer than it ever had and so short it was as though it passed in a blink. They were outside the dorms when Alastor took Anthony’s sleeve. “Wait,” he said.

“Y-yeah?” Anthony asked, turning to look at him.

Immediately, Alastor didn’t want to say anything, so he forced out the first words he could without giving himself time to process or second-guess. “Be my boyfriend. I mean… really. My actual boyfriend.”

This time, Anthony was the one who kissed him.

An hour later, they were in Alastor’s room, coats and hats haphazardly scattered on the floor and Anthony’s back against the wall. Alastor grabbed his wrists and pinned them, covering Anthony’s mouth with his own.

Judging by the sounds Anthony was making, he was a fast learner when it came to this kind of thing.

When they parted, Anthony tilted his head back, exposing the line of his neck, and Alastor was unable to resist leaning down enough to kiss his throat. He could feel Anthony’s groan reverberating through his own lips. “Oh, god, yeah,” Anthony moaned. “That’s so good…”

Something about those words, the way Anthony said them, sent a shiver through Alastor’s body. Before he could second-guess it, he bit down on Anthony’s neck, making him cry out and arch his back to press their chests together. Alastor released him. “Too much?” he panted.

“No, no no, fuck no, don’t stop…!”

Alastor bit down again, and Anthony whined, the sound turning into a sort of sharp moan as Alastor began scraping his teeth against his skin. As he began sucking a bruise into his flesh, he discovered that the rougher he was, the more Anthony seemed to like it; by the time he moved away to admire his work, the side of Anthony’s neck was covered in marks ranging from pink to dark red to something bordering on purple.

Anthony was breathing hard. “Fuck, Alastor, you’re so good…!”

Alastor didn’t know what it was, but when Anthony said that, it made him feel like he was going to go insane if he didn’t do… something, he just didn’t know what. He practically growled as he grabbed Anthony around the waist, and his best friend let out an inelegant squeak as he was lifted off the ground and practically flung onto Alastor’s bed. Alastor wasn’t sure how he would feel about this later, but he knew what he wanted now, and what he wanted was to keep making Anthony make those noises.

He stumbled slightly when he kicked his shoes off, but he managed to keep his feet until he could get onto the bed and crawl on top of Anthony, pinning him down and kissing him again. The night devolved into a haze of sensation and emotion, punctuated by Anthony’s whispered encouragement and moans. Alastor wasn’t sure if he was making noise or not—he was too busy listening to Anthony’s sounds to really focus on what he himself was doing—but if the way he felt when Anthony actually moaned the words “you’re such a good boy” in his ear was anything to go by, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what kind of noises he was making.

Eventually, he wasn’t able to form any kind of coherent thought beyond, I’m going to have to rewrite my entire paper.

#hazbin hotel #radiodust #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin radiodust #my writing #radiodust fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic

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befuddled-calico-whump · 4 months ago

Text

Augusnippets Day 17: Resolution

cw: loss of a friend, grieving

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 659

=~=~=

Monty could hardly believe it when everyone showed up.

It had been five years since the team was disbanded, and a lot could change in five years. He still kept in touch with everyone else, more or less, and they'd all seemingly adjusted well. Moved on, grown past the past.

But the team hadn't reunited because Monty had asked nicely. It was because everyone still felt the loss.

He certainly did.

No one had taken the time to talk about what happened when it happened; they were all a bunch of dumb kids playing dumb games, left to grapple with feelings too big to hold when everything suddenly got real.

Tom hadn't shown them the footage, but the way his voice shook when he told them what happened, the look on his face… Monty knew it must've been awful. And none of them had been able to stop it. None of them had been able to save him.

Sen was the first to show up. They'd all agreed to meet in the park. Near the facility they'd trained in, but not too close.

“Hey,” he greeted them. “Been a while.”

“Yeah.” They nodded, their expression pensive, like they didn't know what to say next. Did any of them? How did you swallow something like this, even after so long? How could you have a team reunion when it was supposed to be five of you, not four?

Faye and Emery made their appearance a few minutes after Sen, hand in hand. They’d started dating after the team was discontinued, taking comfort in one another. Something about shared experience, about being one of just a few people who understood. Monty was glad to see they were still together, but he couldn't help the pang that came at the sight of them.

He could've been holding someone's hand too, if only…

“How do we start?” Emery was the first to speak, after the four of them spent a good several minutes in silence, staring at the grass where they used to take lunch breaks, or study, or spar.

“What can you say?” Faye murmured. “He's gone. There’s nothing we can do.”

“Only remember,” Emery offered.

“Remembering hurts.”

“Don't we owe him that much?” Monty’s own voice, thick with a tremor, almost surprised him. The others gave him looks he might've called pitiful, if they weren't all suffering the same loss.

“He was… he was always the one who pushed us to keep trying,” he continued. “Never just gave up and called it quits when things got tough in training. That's how I remember him.”

Sen nodded. “He would've made a good leader. I know we always said there was no leader, but it would've been him.”

“He didn't hold grudges,” Faye added with a short laugh. “I… I was kind of a bitch to him for the first month, and he still just… welcomed me into the group. Y'know. He was—” Her voice broke. She covered it with a cough. “He was a good guy.”

“He was a giant nerd,” Emery said. “Remember how much he used to talk about Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Oh my gosh, don't get me started—”

“He was always saying he'd run a campaign for us one day.”

“Remember the one story from his highschool campaign he always used to tell? About the rat in the cellar that just wouldn't die?”

“It just wouldn't die.”

Soon they were laughing past their tears, the somber air dissolving into recounted memories. It was better this way, wasn't it? How remembering was supposed to be?

“Maybe we should get a campaign started,” Emery said. “I can run it if you guys want.”

“Yeah.” Faye wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I think we should.”

Emery threw an arm around her shoulder. Sen joined in the hug, already crying again. After a moment, Monty joined too.

“Look at us, becoming nerds. I think Ander would be proud.”

#those he trusted those he loved and those who then moved on. or something like that #augusnippets day 17 #resolution #augusnippets #loss of a loved one #angst #this world is getting too big #edit: just realized i wrote the prompt down wrong and it was meabt to be 'resolving a misunderstanding' 😭😭 opps #well there's resolution AND a misunderstanding 😶

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canichangemyblogname · 4 months ago

Note

*grabs popcorn* why did you tag 'the writing did her so dirty' re: taylor kelly?

I finally found the words for this answer. For me, it has everything to do with the way she was written in 5A as if they were domesticating her, partially at the expense of what really made her an interesting character. I’d like to have seen her as that girl everyone loves to hate, but for the right reasons. “She’s a bitch.” Yes, and? “She hurt all these people.” Yes, and? Also… and this is just fan-canon, not something that I think the show would’ve (or could’ve) done, but pansexual Taylor in an established relationship with a woman is my absolute favorite 🫶.

Like… I hate to give buddie fans any points because most of them are committed to misrepresenting the point and a scene, but the whole “if Eddie were a girl, they’d have kissed already” held a bit of water during the Buck x Taylor era, but not because Buck and Eddie are queercoded, but because Buck x Taylor had the same vibe as “two people who met through work and only really have work in common, but dated anyway.” The two of them talked about their work lives more than any couple on the show. I feared that if either of them had a change of job, they’d cease to have anything to talk about, which *would* be the case for two people who are co-worker adjacent, but shouldn’t be the case for a couple. IMHO, Buck x Taylor wasn’t a result of Buck’s comp het, but societal comp het. They also—as I mentioned previously—seemed to stifle a bit of Taylor’s passionate, ambitious, career-above-everything characterization for a little bit there in 5A, and she kinda simply became Buck’s GF. There was a degree of domestication for her character there, and I hated that for her.

Also… 911 honest opinion? I think Buck and Ali should have had a longer arc. 🫣 More on that below:

It really seemed like they had been narratively setting something up between Buck and Ali, given how the show paralleled Buck + Ali and Maddie + Chim with that one outro monologue about how sometimes the best things start with second chances. Because that monologue that introduced us to Buck x Ali had been all about “second chances,” I genuinely had assumed that she was coming back and that they’d work out their issues. Their relationship also felt narratively weighty because of *why* Buck chose to date her. He had a choice between old habits (re: Taylor Kelly) or making his happiness (re: the Buck Actually theme). They also chose an apartment together. Plus, their “break up” did not feel very final. Something about it felt unresolved.

Cast contracts permitting, if *I* had been on this project, I would have written Buck & Ali as tentatively working on their differences post-injury. When their relationship does end, I’d explore the concept that sometimes, genuinely liking one another—or love—is not enough (which I think would have been great to explore after the Daniel reveal, as love was not enough for a happy Buckley household). Ali & Buck may have progressed past health scares and job fears, but find themselves on two different paths in life (with her job and dreams taking her one way and his keeping him at the 118). Here we could also incorporate Buck’s Big Mistake™️ that we saw in his relationship with Taylor: keeping/hiding things from his partner and overcompensating for that out of guilt to keep the relationship. Maybe that something is family related (re: Daniel) or maybe job related (revisit old wounds that weren’t actually healed during the sniper arc, an emergency he expressly doesn’t tell Ali about for fear of her reaction). Hell, it could be Taylor-related (with Taylor, someone he has a previous dynamic with, “being Lucy” in this situation), if you really want, although I’m personally disinclined to taking this hypothetical story in that direction (mostly because I hate cheating arcs, but also because I think Buck and Taylor work better as friends).

I also think Buck could have still grown into the person he is now through this hypothetical of events instead of through shorter-term relationships. Reasons I think this turn of events could have also worked for Buck’s growth:

We would still get Buck 3.0 seeking out therapy after being crushed, being dumped, and being assigned desk duty. Maddie points out that he’s not handling it well, and he takes it upon himself to do something about that, just like in canon. Maybe later in that season or early next, we find out that Ali had reached out, and Buck reaches back out to her following his conversation with Abby and some therapy, not wanting to leave things unsaid and knowing he hides his true feelings from people. Maybe he tells Ali about him wanting to work on himself and start again. This means that, yes, he’d spend season 3 single before getting back together in early season 4 to “try again” and “see where it goes.”

However, Buck will still be lonely at this time, now essentially having bought into the comp-het idea that part of the reason for our loneliness is not being partnered (just like in canon, but he’d be partnered instead of single during this). If work or a difference in life pulls Buck and Ali apart, we’d still get Buck dealing with this gaping loneliness. It’d be less of a “He hasn’t put himself out there since Abby” and more a “He’s in a relationship and still feels alone.” Maddie and Chim invite Josh to poker night not because of Buck’s “tragic singleness,” but because Ali couldn’t come (which means we still get everyone’s favorite Buck x Josh joke). The scene will lay the ground for the relationship issues he’ll run into in late 4B. Something like, “Buck never gets out of the house” or “He has a girlfriend, but no one would know,” while Josh tells him to be glad he’s got someone because it’s “rough out there” (all while still foreshadowing Josh’s later gay bashing that episode). And this hints at an element of compulsory heterosexuality to this scenario: Buck doesn’t just feel the need to make the relationship work because he wants to be there for people, but because he feels a need to be partnered. His parents are visiting and they’re always disappointed in him, but they’ve met Ali and they’re happy Buck’s partnered. So, he stays. He reads the love languages book (absolutely quackery of a theory, imho) for some ideas on relationship growth and making it work and he stays. He expresses that he really wants this relationship to be successful and meaningful (and that’s why he’s trying the self-help book), and he stays. But maybe we get the Buck equivalent of “my relationship feels like a performance.” Maybe Buck expresses some discomfort with what are essentially traditional aspects/dynamics of het relationships (something the 5 love languages is centered around). Things like, “I want to provide, but I also want to be taken care of.” We’ll also get a few scenes that suggest he and Ali don’t know each other well (like not knowing what to get each other for special occasions, and some conversations between Buck and Bobby). But, otherwise, Buck & Ali’s interactions with one another are sweet and romantic. He goes on a successful date with Ali instead of Monica. He also goes on a successful double-date with Monica x Albert, with Ali as his gf. Ali’s genuine affection for Buck really shines when Buck runs into his season 4 family issues, and she gets along with everyone in Buck’s life, including Maddie, Chim and Albert, and even his parents. Their personal lives will seem to go strong because it’s the way their work lives interfere with their personal lives that will drive the wedge between them. Red’s warning about being too consumed by the job and how hard this is to compete with swirl around in Buck’s head the whole relationship. Buck fears that much like Red, he’ll never be able to make it work.

Eventually, however, we would get Buck figuring out that he doesn’t have to stay with someone just to stay with someone. (“I’m not happy. And if this isn’t a healthy relationship, then maybe the best thing for me to do is be the one who leaves.”) So, in early 4B when issues he thought they’d worked through rise again and maybe Ali discovers that Buck’s keeping something from her (I’m leaning toward him purposefully keeping aspects of his job from her, like not telling her about the sniper [among other things], once more revealing how Buck puts other’s comfort above his personal life and happiness and again reinforcing the idea that Buck’s career is too “consuming” and too “dangerous” for some partners, but also revealing that he doesn’t trust Ali not to run again -> but this leads Ali to not trust that Buck won’t keep important things from her and also leads her to realize that he will ice her out of important parts of his life), Buck decides, “I do like you, but I don’t think this is going to work out.” He then spends all of season 5 single, and it would be cool to see a “I’m working on myself, I want to be single” storyline, which would factor well into his further self-improvement arc during the interim-Captain storyline. He will then still meet Natalia in season 6 and they’ll be drawn together and apart for many of the same reasons as in canon.

But crucially, this means that I’d have kept Buck and Taylor friends in seasons 4 & 5 because 1.) I think the men of 911 do not have enough women in their life platonically outside blood relations, 2.) I found their dynamic *before* they started dating much more compelling, and 3.) them making Taylor Buck’s GF seemed to stifle her character a little, so she was less the ambitious, passionate reporter and more just… a sweet girl. In my hypothetical, she’s still there in seasons 4-5, and ever the go-getting reporter. Maybe she has less screen time, but she’s still there. Many of the work-related scenes between her and Buck would and could (and should) remain. Anything related to investigations and her reporting would absolutely stay. I think that Taylor could neatly fit into a similar role that Josh does with Maddie. She’s blunt, no holds barred. He tells her about his family, roommate, and relationship issues in S4, and she always gives him the tough answer. She confides in him when the pandemic becomes too much. They team up for the hit-n-run investigation and the treasure hunt (Ali also joins them). She is his friend—and maybe one of the only ones outside the 118 family— who is there when his best friend, Eddie, gets shot (but clearly—and crucially—not in the same way Maddie is there for Chim or Karen is there for Hen because she’s *not* Buck’s GF or a potential LI, and also not in the same way that Ali is *not* there for Buck, given Buck goes to lengths to hide this development from Ali, like putting on his vest in secret). She is still hard on him for his “neediness” and “impulsivity.”

IMHO—not too much changes between them. There’d be fewer scenes between them, sure. They wouldn’t kiss. Some of their more emotional conversations would be less couple-y, like the coffee date where he talks about his family. (And I personally love the idea that this whole time they’re friends, Taylor is dating a woman and Buck has met this woman or heard about her, but that is, again, just fan-canon.) Also, we’d miss that scene of Taylor in her black lingerie (sorry lesbians) and Buck in that grey A-line Tee (sorry to me), but not much is otherwise changing. Hell, even the way things eventually break down doesn’t need to change (minus the issue with Buck asking Taylor to move in after he and Lucy kissed). Buck will still learn that he can’t fix everything because Taylor will still prioritize her career over her friendship. Plus, a friendship crashing and burning is its own beast, and one that would teach Buck that it’s not just in his romantic relationships that he gives too much of himself. (Cough, cough, a lesson he could learn with Eddie.)

Also, with this breakdown coming so soon after breaking things off with his gf, his best friend damn near dying, and his sister running away, Buck will go to lengths to try and fix the issues in his friendship, lengths like going to Oklahoma to support her (a trip where he meets her GF in my fan-canon). He wasn’t enough to inspire Abby to stay. He couldn’t make it work with Ali. Eddie fucking got shot. Maddie’s run away. And now a difference in world views has put him and a friend at odds with each other (something that *seems* fixable). So, he’ll try his damndest to fix things, desperately wanting this to work out as everything else goes haywire. “I can’t lose a friend, too.” “You were there for me after Eddie got shot, I want to be here for you now.” “Everything else is a mess; I want to help where I’m needed.” No more losing people. Except, it doesn’t work. Meaning, Buck would still come to understand himself and his localized view of himself relative to others vs. Taylor’s more universal view of herself as their friendship falls apart.

This also all still leaves Tommy to be different compared to Buck’s past romantic relationships, most of which happened on his partner’s terms rather than his own. It also still leaves Taylor in the series and her impact on Buck remains without half-nuking her character. Buck also maintains much of his character growth, as I will always maintain that Taylor was very important to Buck’s character growth.

#Evan Buckley #Taylor Kelly #Ali Martin #911 ABC #Aromantic Taylor Kelly is also something that can be so special to me #And I love the idea of two people who used to hook up deciding upon being friends #That’s so cool and adult and normal #and the HC of Taylor being queer herself and she and Buck hitting it off as friends is also so special to me #like… it’d really support much of Buck’s existing queercoding #Like I said… misogyny stifled her character and misogyny is the driving force behind a lot of her fanon bashing #Honestly? Part of this is because I really dislike cheating storylines #unless it actually affects the two character’s dynamic in some way #it felt like there was so little consequence for Buck hiding the kiss from Taylor and overcompensating out of guilt #compare that to Hen— whose wife literally moved out to deal #and it took several seasons before those wounds between them were healed and trust had been restored #like— the issue is not that Lucy kissed Buck while he was inebriated #it’s that Buck kept that from Taylor and overcompensated out of guilt #and there are other ways to explore that which don’t involve perceived infidelity #like… hiding a large work emergency from your partner — including icing them out and lying to them to hide this #and then overcompensating for that out of guilt

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lususnatura · 6 months ago

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blamore having to wear things like back-less shirts / lower - cut tops and just items of clothing that will allow him SOME sort of free range of movement for his tail in general + will actually not constrict his rib cage may just make him a fashion icon y'all... sorry, i don't make the rules ( nah i'm just joking around with you guys LOL... mostly )

#IT WAS PROBABLY NOTHING BUT IT FELT LIKE THE WORLD: musings.#MAN IS BOUND TO LIE ABOUT HIMSELF: headcanons.#and he also wears cut-off shirts that may have like. rips in them or netting in the front of them due to the fact that one of the-#downsides of his transformation that is more like a minor inconvenience than anything is that he can no longer wear a lot of-#materials and so he kinddd of has to either make his own clothes or get a special tailor to make them for him? so yeahhh BUT he can also-#wear like loose clothing if he wants to completely cover up his rib cage for some reason. though no matter what he HAS to have some sort of #free range of movement for his tail bc it gets very irritated and stiff if it's like stuck in one position for too long / bound in some way #so that's why he has a habit of wearing partial / cut-off shirts and stuff bc he values comfort a LOT + this may have some implications-#behind it if/whenever he's imprisoned because you already know most people are NOT going to risk him having even partial rein-#over it's tail so they would make it so that he can't move it and wouldn't give a shit if it was uncomfy / eventually painful for him.#though blamore would CERTAINLY care and at least try to lash out at whoever's keeping him locked up (which coulddd theoretically be-#arkham since they do have special containment cells for those like Killer Croc and Man-Bat) but they would really have to limit his movemen #because trust me when i say if you allow it to still practice it's bone-manipulation then he is going to be planning each and EVERY-#person's decimation who put him there so... yeah. that's lovely ain't it y'all JSJSJ LMAO but again being compassionate towards patients-#/ inmates in arkham is something that DESPERATELY needs to be practiced though it's certainly missing most of the time from-#the place unfortunately.

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naw-naw-honeyimgood · 1 year ago

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I have noticed a recurring theme in the characters I like that they're far too nice and forgive people who've hurt them far too easily. "It's fine" "I never blamed you" "There's nothing you need to apologize for"

meanwhile I'm two steps behind them snarling over their shoulder going "c'mon let me beat them up please it'll make me feel SO much better and they DESERVE it"

#wouldn't have said anything but this is also a thing i do for wei ying so i was like 'ah so this is a pattern'#but thought this up while reading a yaoi abo where mc lost his SERIOUS BOYFRIEND to his CHILDHOOD FRIEND #bcuz they turned out to be a fated pair #and then i mean its a yaoi obv mc eventually moves on and finds someone else #but this is like a good time after THOSE two get together #so now that mc finally has a relationship he can TRUST wont EXPLODE IN HIS FACE #which is only something he even eared in the first place because of not only EXPERIENCE but also TRAUMA #but only now does the childhood friend come by to say sorry?????#like???????#lemme tell you if i had a long time partner that i LOVED who turned out to be “”“”DESTINED“”“” for MY childhood friend #like i have low self-esteem id prob be like 'oh theyll make each other happy :')'#but my childhood friend would flip FATE ass over teakettle bein like “YOU THINK IM GOING TO JUST GET WITH WITH MY BEST FRIENDS BOYFRIEND??”#which is the correct response #so the fact that this shitty-ass childhood friend not only absolutely WENT with it #he ALSO literally never apologized until mc was mostly past it #thats no fucking friend #dont mind me goin feral #ugh #yaoi

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fushitoru · 2 months ago

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trouble a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bully!satoru gojo x reader

summary ⸺ an unexpected tutoring session with your bully satoru gojo leads to somewhere...unexpected

warnings ⸺ SMUT (MDNI), fluff, slight angst, college au, porn with really mid plot, bullying, humiliation, PANTY INSPECTION, p i v sex, unprotected sex, aftercare, creampie, he whimpers a lot but also degrades you a lot, gojo satoru king of dirty talk it might not make sense lolz, this is not edited in the slightest, didn't even do it a once over, implied that reader is a virgin but not really art by the goat 3-aem

a/n sorry for being so ia. will be answering asks after the ao3 author ahh events that went on this past week T-T as a result this is kind of mid, might delete later, based on this req

general masterlist

This could not be happening to you. NO, no, no. You must be dreaming, right?

Because Satoru Gojo was sitting right across from you in your math professor’s office, looking akin to a kicked puppy, ears drooping as your professor continued ranting about his late assignments, his efforts to cover his grades up, lost potential, laziness, how he should learn from you—but you were only dreading the aftermath of this conversation, when you were left alone with Gojo.

Because he was your college bully.

It didn’t get as violent as in those Asian dramas, but you were often left humiliated from the nuisance he was. For example, take the instance when you both first met.

Head deep in the textbooks you just bought, you were scanning the formulas in an effort to get ahead; after all, for someone like you—dependent on a scholarship to attend university—slacking off was not an option. Only for the nepo trust fund babies—which you were not. There, in the prestigious university you had fought tooth and nail to get into, you were at peace.

But it all went out the window as someone moved to tap you on your shoulder, making you turn your head towards possibly the most handsomest boy you’ve ever seen but undeniably a spoiled kid. Because what came out of his words were definitely grounds for sexual harassment.

“Are Asian people your type? Because I’m China get in your japanties.”

If crickets could make their way into the study room you were sitting in, their chirps would be LOUD. You blinked, heat creeping up your face as he leaned closer to your face, eyes flirtingly honing in on yours and your lips. Abruptly—-flustered—you stood up, gathering your belongings and apologizing profusely. “I”m so—sorry—I don’t—-you might be talking to the wrong per—” because there was no way in hell he was addressing you. From what you could see, he looked like a rich kid, the kind with a lot of money—something that could land you in trouble. You booked it the hell out of there, ignoring the confused look on his face and missing the disappointment flicker across it as he saw your retreating figure leave his sight.

And thus, your love story with Satoru Gojo—who you soon found out was the most popular boy on campus—started.

Small encounters with Gojo kept plaguing your first semester. They would be chance encounters, where Gojo would catch your eye in the middle of a crowd and make his way towards you, a snarky grin creeping up his face as he cornered you into a hallway with less traffic. Sometimes even in a closet.

It wouldn’t be anything grave, to say. All he would ask is how your day was, all sweet nothings and cute smiles made to woo you. And they definitely did—but you couldn’t let it show, couldn’t let him woo you.

“What’s your next class, baby?” The both of you were in a janitor’s closet, him having cornered you in the room and locked the door. You kept biting your lip nervously, the edge of it red and swollen as you peered at him somewhat nervously.

“Uh—I don’t know,” you whispered, darting your eyes somewhere on the floor, so he wouldn’t see the avoidant look on your face.

Let’s get the record straight: you weren’t scared of Gojo. Sure, at 6’ 3’’ with piercing, glow-in-the-dark sapphire eyes, he made you nervous, but you knew you could pine for him at best. Because god knows what would happen if you ever cross him or his dozens of fan girls, some with considerably more power than you on campus. Putting a target on your back while you were trying to graduate wasn’t one of your goals, but trying to pass your math classes with honors was.

And you hated the fact Gojo could read you like a book. Because in the cramped, dark space, his eyes were almost..soft as he put his forearm across the wall on top of your head, effectively caging you in as he steps toward you. You hug your big and heavy books closer to your chest, the squish of your breasts over your top not lost to Gojo who eyes them with lidded eyes. Then, they make their way to meet yours, and it’s like he can see the pining in your eyes. The fact that he’s a carrot dangled in front of your head, something you want but if you ran, you would never have him. A perpetual race to make him yours.

He smiles, gives a soft chuckle. “You don’t know?” he teases you and your blatant lie. “C’mon, let me walk you there.”

But you blurt out an immediate “No!” and then regret it, because hurt flashes across his face. “I mean–” you falter, “please don’t. You’ll be seen publicly with me.”

A quizzical look, one that is so innocent that it makes you want to cry, because how could Gojo ever understand your problems? “What’s the problem?” And then he pouts. “You embarrassed of me?”

“No–no—” you shake your head, squirming slightly from where you were both standing. “It won’t be good for you, for me.” Then, you swallowed, waiting and screening for his reaction.

Praying to whatever gods that were listening to you that he would understand, it seemed that they were answered because an emotion you couldn’t place etched its way on his face until he nodded. A resolute one, yet something that made you a bit…uneasy was in his eyes. Because it meant nothing but trouble.

Then on went your days. Seven days, in fact, because it only took a week for you to be walking across the hallway, daydreaming about a boy without a face cuddling you in the winter, eating cookies in Christmas. You hated being single and hated the fact you were confined to your academic responsibilities; quickly, your professors caught onto your potential, assigning you to tutor your peers during recitations. You preened at the attention and validation but felt lonely because it occupied all your time to catch up on others’ expectations. In your rumination of your upcoming responsibilities, you didn’t notice the hand shoot out and firmly grab your arm until you were in a janitor’s closet. Yet again.

Shocked, you resisted the unknown person who had led you in here, instincts flaring up until said person turned on the light.

Gojo.

“Gojo, what are you—” You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence, as Gojo had covered your mouth with his arm, one to avoid causing too much commotion before you were discovered there.

“You said no one could see us, right?” A mischievous—yet yearning—look flashed across his face and it was then you realized his play. “So this is okay?”

No, this stubborn man wasn’t going to let you go—he was going to torment you. In secret.

The only response you could conjure your brain was a whimper because a tentative hand was creeping its way up your thigh, softy caressing the insides of it. All you could feel was pleasure and how it was so right despite it being so wrong that Satoru Gojo, the campus sweetheart, had cornered you into the janitor’s closet to give you the most dizzying touches, some you couldn’t deny.

So when he moved his other hand that was at your mouth to grab at your pink skirt, he lifted the hem with both his hands and then paused. Looked at you with darkened eyes. “Let me do this.”

You could only close your eyes in your flustered state, pinching them shut as you gave him a slight nod. It only took him a millisecond to move, using both of his hands to uncover what was between your thighs, eyes focused and widening as he inspected your panties.

“Pink with hearts, huh?” You could hear the chuckle in his voice, the cockiness basically oozing out and you could only continue to heat up deeper. “I like it, baby.” Jumping as you felt his hands roam and trace the edges of your panties, he hooked his finger in the crotch, your thighs tightening slightly as his index just oh so grazed your bare folds as he pulled and pulled, until he let go of the tension and it snapped back in its place. “Look at me.”

As per his instruction, you opened your eyes, only to be taken aback by the intensity in his. Then, his lips moved. “Be my girlfriend.”

The moment broke as clarity hit you. This shouldn’t have happened. “I’m sorry, Gojo, but—”

“Don’t call me that,” he groaned, stepping back and raking an arm through his hair. “What’s even your problem? Did I do something wrong?”

Incredulous, you utter out a “Something wro—you don’t think you did something wrong?”

He looked at you for a bit, made to say something, but you cut him off. “You know what Gojo? Get this through your head. We can’t do this. I don’t know how many girls fall for this, but I can’t. I’m sorry.” With that, you made to move, but he quickly reached out, pleading for you to stay. You wrenched his hand out of your grip and said, in the most serious voice you could muster, “Don’t ever talk to me again.” And you walked out, pretending you weren’t scared of what would happen after you retaliated against the Satoru Gojo.

Surprising, all went well for the rest of the semester. You did get some whispers and stares because of the stray rumor or two passing around about you and the mysterious instances when the campus king stared at your figure for a flicker too long. But it wasn’t nothing but passing because you didn’t share any classes with Gojo, and he respected your wishes. You didn’t miss the bitterness in his stare when you passed by his friend group in the hallway, speeding up to shake off the weight of his eyes on you.

So, you were at peace. Until second semester’s Calc III.

You soon realize that with gradients and vectors comes an additional burden, one specifically sporting white hair. Because as you’re pulled into your math professor’s office and see him, you oh so desperately want to book it.

“And this, Satoru,” your professor pauses and looks at him sternly while gesturing towards you, “is your ticket out of failing. Miss Y/N here,” he gives you a comforting smile, one that does nothing to ease the stiffness flooding your body at the thought of Gojo right next to you, “has the highest grade in the class. She’s a seasoned teaching assistant too, helping a lot of people in her classes next year.” You silently curse, your smile growing more strained as you realize Gojo’s looking at you. “I trust that you’ll be in good care.”

Once the professor finally dismissed you both, you braced yourself, shoving your notebook back into your bag with far more force than necessary. The prospect of *actually* tutoring Satoru Gojo—the one person who seemed hell-bent on making college a gauntlet for you—was absurd.

You didn't look up as you pushed past him, but Gojo kept pace, following you out of the office and down the hall with that easy, unbothered stride of his. "So," he drawled, “how's this tutoring thing going to work? Are you coming to my place, or am I coming to yours?”

You stopped, turning to face him. "My place," you said firmly. The thought of seeing him lounging in some flashy, high-end apartment was insufferable. Besides, at least in your dorm, you could set some ground rules.

He blinked, looking surprised. "Your place? Bold move, Miss Perfect," he teased, that trademark smirk flickering onto his face. “Didn’t think you’d be so eager to have me over.”

"Trust me, Gojo, I'm only doing this because I have to. And there will be rules," you said, crossing your arms. "No messing around, no games—just math."

“*Just math,*" he repeated, his tone playful as his eyes glinted with mischief. “Got it.”

You swallowed, hoping he meant it. "Fine," you said briskly. "I’ll see you tomorrow at six. Don’t be late."

“Oh, wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, and with a little salute, he strolled off, leaving you with a sense of impending doom.

The knock came precisely at six.

You opened the door, and there stood Satoru Gojo, surprisingly punctual, hands shoved into his pockets and a playful grin on his face. You gestured to the small study area you’d set up by your desk, filled with neatly organized notes and textbooks.

“Take a seat,” you said shortly. “We’ll start with the basics.”

He slid into the chair, his gaze flitting from the textbooks to you, an amused glint in his eye. “You weren’t kidding about tutoring. You’re all set up like a professional.”

You ignored the remark and opened the textbook to the chapter on derivatives. “Alright. Let’s go through this. If you understand derivatives, the rest of Calc III will start making sense.”

For a while, he seemed to actually pay attention. He followed along, asking a few questions, which you answered as patiently as possible. But as the explanations went on, his attention started to drift. After one too many halfhearted nods, you frowned, putting your pencil down.

“You’re not even trying, are you?”

He leaned back in his chair, that smirk resurfacing. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting off the blush creeping up your cheeks. “You needed my help. I didn’t force you to come here. If you don’t want to do this, then—”

He held up a hand, the teasing gone from his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll focus.” He paused, then added, “In fact, to show you I mean it, I’ll do you a favor. Whatever you want. My way of saying thanks.”

You eyed him warily. “A favor?”

“Anything,” he said, leaning in with a grin that spelled trouble. “What’ll it be? An escort to class? Carrying your books around? Name it.”

“I’ll let you know when I think of something.” You’re dismissive, knowing he’s not that serious about this, playful about this like he is everything else.

He chuckled, nodding. “Looking forward to it.”

And with that, he finally settled into his chair, this time with genuine focus, leaving you both in the kind of quiet that held a new, unspoken promise—a favor, an IOU hanging in the air between you.

You don’t know how you ended up under Gojo on your bed.

Satoru sat close—closer than you’d expected. His knee brushed yours as he leaned forward to study your notes, and every few minutes, his arm would brush against your hand as he reached for the pencil you were using to write equations. Each little touch sent a jolt through you, and judging by the lingering glances he kept giving you, he didn’t mind it either.

“Okay, so the derivative here is...?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you pointed at the next problem.

Satoru leaned even closer, squinting at your notebook. “I think I get it,” he murmured, his face inches from yours, his breath warm as it brushed your cheek. But instead of looking at the math, his eyes flicked to yours, lingering just a second too long.

Your heart hammered as you forced yourself to focus. “Right. So you should get… uh… that answer,” you managed, feeling his gaze still trained on you.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, not breaking eye contact. His hand shifted on the table, the back of his fingers grazing yours.

You didn’t move. Neither did he. Your fingers stayed where they were, brushing against each other, the soft, deliberate touch making the silence between you feel louder. Finally, you broke the tension by clearing your throat, quickly pulling your hand away to grab a different textbook.

“So—um, yeah, you’re almost there,” you stammered. “But you missed a step here.” You pointed to another section, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight shake in your voice.

He noticed, of course. You could see his smirk in the corner of your eye.

“Is that all I missed?” he asked, leaning so close that his shoulder pressed against yours. His voice was lower now, more intimate.

You nodded, trying to focus on the page but finding it impossible with him so close. “Yeah. Just… that,” you said softly.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice dropping even more as he shifted his hand, his knuckles brushing against your knee now. It wasn’t intentional—at least, you thought it wasn’t—but neither of you moved. You felt frozen, caught in a quiet, charged moment, where all you could hear was your own heartbeat.

You swallowed, forcing your gaze back to the problem on the page. “Maybe, um… maybe we should take a break?” you suggested, needing a second to breathe.

He tilted his head, an amused, knowing, intense glint in his eye. “A break sounds nice.”

Your breath caught as he looked at you like that, his hand still warm where it lingered just a little too close. And in that brief moment, you wondered just what kind of favor you’d end up asking of him—or what he might ask of you in return.

And it seemed like he knew what you were thinking. “Hey,” he said oh so breathlessly, in the way that made you want to throw yourself at him yet simultaneously bludgeon his head in, “wanna fuck?”

You reeled back, incredulous, but he quickly grabbed your head with both his hands, gently drawing you in. “What?”

“I mean,” and he giggled, “what better use of a favor for than me to rid you of your virginity?”

You gasp, struggling in his hold to no avail. “Why would you assume I’m a virgin? I have plenty of experience, thank you very much—”

All the man does is snigger, despite your glare at him and looks at you, peering at you through his eyelashes with an oh-so-adoring smile. “It was clear how much you soaked through your panties that last time you’re a virgin, baby.” And you can’t help but whimper, reduced to a melting mess because of his sweet words.

He laughs meanly. “If you’re not a virgin, you better not be soaked right now, baby. I’m kind of excited to see what panties you’re wearing this time” He moves his hand between your thighs, and you pliantly spread your legs for him, clenching as his hands rove over your panties in between your skirt. And he’s right, because it’s almost like you’ve wet your panties with the way your slick was flooding out of you because of your proximity with Satoru. “Look at that,” he coos and he pulls his hand away, much to your dismay, to examine his fingers. They glisten vulgarly in the fairy lights in your dorm, and Satoru turns his head to look at you. “So you gonna let me fuck you?”

And that, dear reader, is how you find yourself face down in your plushies on your dorm room bed, clutching them for dear life as Satoru spews dirty talk as if he was born doing it. “Satoru, faster!” you sob, having gone past the initial discomfort of having something in your pussy.

“Satoru, faster,” he mocks you, grabbing your hips and drilling into your heat, groaning at how you’re just so tight. The tears flowing down your face make you even more beautiful as you succumb to your pleasure, one that no one other than Satoru has ever made you feel. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to fuck you?” You don’t answer past your moaning, and that annoys the fuck out of Gojo. He slaps your ass consecutively and can’t help but be more aroused looking at the red handprints he leaves. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you moaned, anything to stop his assault on your ass, “I wanted this is sooo bad.” At that—rather than being satiated—Satoru sped up, hitting your spot with the accuracy of a sharpshooter.

“Yea, baby?” He laughs, meanly, leaning down to grab you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. His fingers squished your cheeks, thereby pursuing your lips as he tried not to cum from the sight of your eyes rolling back with each stroke into you. From the way you were clenching and pulsing more regularly around him, he could tell you were close. “Gonna cum?”

You whined, nodding while sobbing into his hands, trying to focus on the feeling of orgasming. It was so close, you could feel it coiling in your belly—

Just for him to rip out of your cavern, leaving you in shambles due to the emptiness you were feeling. “What—”

He tutted, his hand now slowly stroking his cock while he was sitting on his knees, looking down at you. “I’m only letting you come if you agree to be my girlfriend.”

“Gojo, what—”

“It’s Satoru,” his eyes flared, looking at you with an intensity you hadn’t noticed before. “And say it. Say you’ll be mine.”

For a moment, you searched his eyes for any signs. Signs of insincerity, of humor. But all you could find was desperation and yearning. Ever since you kept having your chance encounters with Gojo, you couldn’t help but deny the fluttering in your heart; the way his eyes unconsciously looked for you, a mere stranger he had taken interest in, in every crowd made you feel seen in a world where you were otherwise invisible.

And you couldn’t help but want to continue being in that world, in his world.

“Fine,” you whispered. “I’ll be your girlfr—”

Before you could finish, he smashed his lips into yours, joining them in a messy, wet embrace. His tongue explored your mouth in a way that made you leak even more while he aggressively laid back down on the mattress, effortlessly lifting you onto his crotch and onto his dick. As he thrusted into you, desperately, he couldn’t help but continue blabbing sweet nothings.

“I’ll treat you so well—haah—take you out on dates,” he heaved, eyes watering as he thrusted slowly into you in long, deep strokes. His eyes never left you as he made love to you, his face going up to nuzzle in between your breasts, peering at you through lidded eyes lovingly. “Fuck you well every night, show you off to the world.”

You could only sob Satoru as you looked at his face through your tears, him doing all the talking for you. “Every day,” he groaned, his cock pulsing and twitching in your walls, “I’ll love you like you’re my wife and fuck you like you’re my slut. So—” and he took a sharp intake of breath, one that you could interpret as him getting close with the way his hips were continually getting more and more sloppy, “so proud of you, baby. Gonna take care of you.” Then, he meets his eyes with yours as he starts to speed up, hand moving to gently rub at your clit in circles, with such prowess that you know you’re not going to last long. “Pull you—haah—pull you aside and see what panties you wore for me that day. Coming inside—coming inside and making you walk around with my cum leakin’ out of your panties.”

And then he whimpers as he loses control. “Gonna—” he utters in between short breaths, “gonna come baby. Come with me.”

“I will, Satoru,” you whine. “Please, I wanna—I wanna kiss!” That’s when Satoru can’t hold himself back anymore, his cum shooting in ropes inside of you at the innocent gesture you wanted him to do while he was doing such filthy things to you. You come alongside with him, everything so overwhelming as you ride out your orgasm on top of him.

As you’re both settling down from your orgasm, he pulls you off—the both of you wincing at the sudden emptiness—as he lays you down next to him. Without a word, he nuzzles in between your breasts, giving a content sigh as he literally melts like a cat, relaxed in your embrace. You can’t help but giggle at his antics, and he takes his face out of your cleavage to give you a boyish grin. “What’re you laughing at?” “Nothing,” you shake your head. “Just the fact I’m chained to you now.”

“Hey!” he pouts, moving his arms so he’s embracing you tightly, effectively trapping you in. “Say that again and I’m going to sleep on top of you and never leave.”

“Can’t believe I’m chained to y—”

Satoru plops on top of you, making a show of tickling your ribs and stomach as you gasp and laugh in surprise. “Satoru!” He doesn’t relent, until you feel a familiar liquid ooze and leak out of your pussy.

This time, your shriek of Satoru’s name doesn’t go unnoticed. At the murderous look on your face–as well as the sheer messiness in between your thighs—he gets up. Smiles sweetly. “Should just leave you like this, leaking my cum. It’s only fair for how you ignored me!”

At that, he gets a pillow to his face, reminiscent of a kicked puppy as he trudges to your bathroom to clean you up.

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

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part 2 of baker!reader + do not ever ask me to write accents lmao i suck at those 💀😭 and a huge thank you to all the sweet and dessert suggestions! i couldn't add all of them, but oh my god did i love all of them and choosing between them was sooo hard (that's what she said). if your dessert didn't make it here im soo sorry 😭

It was a quiet morning when you finally decided to reopen the bakery. The town had been whispering, speculating about the sudden disappearance of your husband—tragic, they said, to be found mauled by a bear in the woods. You hadn’t shed a tear, hadn’t flinched at the news. Maybe that was cruel of you, but after what you had endured, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything for him anymore. Not fear, not sadness—just relief.

And now, with the bakery open once again, you felt lighter. Freer.

The 141 boys were there first thing, as you had hoped. Each one walking into the cozy space like they belonged there. Their heavy, winter boots made the wooden floors creak, their towering frames somehow making the space feel intimate rather than intimidating. You smiled as the familiar smell of fresh bread and sugar lingered in the air, the warmth of the ovens cocooning you and the rest of the bakery in comfort. Free from that terrible man you’d called a husband, it was as if the world itself was taking on a more vibrant color.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John greeted you, his eyes crinkling beneath his hat, though there was something watchful in his gaze.

“Bonnie,” Johnny chirped, leaning on the counter, his eyes sparkling as they usually did when he spoke to you. “Place smells heavenly as always.”

“You’re open today, huh?” Kyle said, grinning as he eyed the display of pastries lined up neatly behind the glass. “Missed our favorite baker, honestly.”

Simon didn’t say anything at first, just gave you a long, steady look from behind his mask. You knew he had seen the signs. He was the only one who had seen the bruises, had taken your hands so gently that day and whispered that promise. You hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t said anything in return, but you had trusted him all the same. You are glad you did. You are so glad it’d been him to see.

Now, as you wiped your hands on your apron and stepped out from behind the counter, your heart was lighter than it had been in months. “Everything’s on the house today,” you said, your smile wider than it had been in ages. “For you guys, at least. After all… I’ve got a few new things for you to try.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so? Then we’re in for a treat, eh boys?”

You went back to the counter, pulling out a few trays and plates, your hands moving quickly as you started setting them down in front of the men, watching their eyes light up at the spread. “I’ve been experimenting,” you said, your voice light, almost teasing. “For John, I’ve got pecan pie. Thought you might like it—something a bit rich, a bit warm.” Like you, goes unsaid but you hoped he still heard it.

John’s eyes gleamed as he accepted the slice you placed in front of him. “Always knew you were a mind reader,” he murmured with a chuckle, cutting into the pie and taking a bite. The smile that spread across his face was slow, but appreciative.

“For you, Kyle, lemon meringue tarts. Something sharp, refreshing. A little tangy,” you said, setting the plate in front of him. “And a bit sweet, too. Had a feeling you’d like it!”

Kyle laughed, picking up the tart and admiring it at first. “You know me too well.” He took a bite, his eyes widening at the burst of lemon on his tongue and then groaning in delight. “Perfect, as always.”

Simon watched you closely, and when you placed a plate of apple fritters in front of him, his gaze softened just slightly. “Made these with you in mind,” you said, your voice gentle. “Thought you’d appreciate something classic, Si. Simple, but comforting.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just nodded in that way of his, taking the fritter in his gloved hand. When he took a bite, his eyes closed briefly, and you could see the silent approval in the way his shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“And for you, Johnny,” you giggled, setting down a small bowl of Cranachan in front of him. “Thought you might like something traditional- whisky, raspberries, oats, and cream. Feels like a bit of home, doesn’t it? At least I hope so. It was my first time making it.”

Johnny beamed all the same, eagerly reaching for a spoon. “Ah, bonnie, you’re spoiling us.”

But it wasn’t just them you were thinking of. You had made a fresh batch of focaccia bread for yourself, but this wasn’t just any bread- it was bold, spiced with rosemary and topped with chilli flakes and garlic. It was a reflection of your own newfound boldness. You’d been quiet, subdued for so long. Now, you wanted to feel alive again.Perhaps it might seem corny, but this focaccia bread meant to signify that for you.

You set a slice of the focaccia on a plate for yourself, taking a bite as you sat with them, your smile not faltering for a second. It was savoury- settling warmth in your stomach. “I think this might be my new favorite, actually.” you said with a soft laugh. In your mind, you were already thinking of making and selling more of it.

They didn’t say much in response, still tasting their own desserts, but you could feel their appreciation, their understanding, in the quiet way they accepted it.

The rest of the bakery was alive with the smell of freshly baked treats: rich brownies, soft sugar cookies, fluffy cronuts, and delicate eclairs. Tres leches cakes sat next to pumpkin pies, while apple and custard empanadas filled the air with their sweet, warm scent. Cheesecakes, cardamom rolls, strawberry lamingtons—the selection was almost overwhelming, but everything sold well. Especially the bear claw pastries. You smiled softly to yourself at the irony. The bearclaw pastries might also be your new favorite, right alongside the focaccia.

Johnny noticed it immediately, the little twitch of your lips, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny, bonnie?”

You waved him off, shaking your head. “Oh, nothing. Just… the bear claws. They’ve been selling really well lately. Thought it was… fitting.”

Simon’s eyes flicked to you, then to the bear claw pastries sitting neatly in a display case. A slow understanding crossed his gaze, but he didn’t say anything. Just a slight nod, the corner of his mouth twitching, the silent acknowledgment of the truth that you all shared. You had no doubt the others knew about it as well- maybe even had a hand in it. Such incredible men.

And for the first time, standing in your bakery, surrounded by warmth and the quiet camaraderie of the men you had come to trust, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. The past was behind you. Now, you had a future to look forward to—one filled with new beginnings, layers to unfold like a mille-feuille crepe cake, and the quiet reassurance that you were no longer alone.

“Here’s to new beginnings,” you said, raising your cup of coffee, your smile bright and genuine.

The boys raised their cups in return, their expressions soft but full of unspoken promises. “To new beginnings,” they echoed, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it. Especially because you could see the way they were looking at you.

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endlessthxxghts · 5 months ago

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Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

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“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.”

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals.

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is.

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach.

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.”

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray.

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips.

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated.

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure.

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?”

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously.

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down.

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn.

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age.

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew.

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready.

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up.

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win.

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm.

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth.

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think.

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest.

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.”

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat.

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside.

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it.

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round.

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum.

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold.

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you.

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking.

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?”

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep.

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched.

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then.

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do.

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks.

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down.

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process.

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-”

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed.

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go.

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan.

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell.

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend.

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man.

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.”

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs.

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself.

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough.

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud.

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south—

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.”

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by.

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time.

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?”

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified.

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.”

Fuck.

“Why?” He asks defensively.

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.”

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action.

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy.

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides.

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion.

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot.

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice.

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit.

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response.

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze.

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now.

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted.

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret.

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-”

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest.

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions.

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip.

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.”

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features.

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder.

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips.

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection.

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest.

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins.

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking.

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt.

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling.

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else.

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often.

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears.

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?”

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon.

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much.

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge.

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure.

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down.

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet?

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing.

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?”

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?”

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?”

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?”

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?”

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display.

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you.

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen.

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face.

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?”

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later.

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself.

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue.

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.”

He looks at you incredulously.

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.”

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

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violetrainbow412-blog · 6 months ago

Text

From hate to love… or something like that

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 15.7k (sorrrryyyy)

warnings: arranged marriage, hate-to-love, mentions of rape, mentions of incest, mentions of suicidal thoughts, drinking alcohol, mommy issues, daddy issues, mentions of sex without love, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), porn with plot (but something cheap, tbh) and I probably forgot something but I think that makes it clear that this shit is not for minors, so MINORS DNI :)

A/N: I started this since the second season premiere started so if you find any canon-like scenes I completely promise it wasn't intentional. I also want to make it clear that you are responsible for what you read and if you don't like something please just let it go, that would be very kind of you!

And this doesn't make me team green at all, I'm a defender of the rightful queen to the death… it's just that her brother is too sexy to ignore 🫦

Enjoy!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @barcelonaloverf1life @ilovequeen978

FIRST ACT: HATE

Finding a wife for Prince Aegon II was probably one of the most difficult tasks Alicent Hightower had to face.

The engagement with his sister Helaena had been broken after a more tempting offer for the princess, which would get them a permanent alliance with the Lannister house that they couldn’t refuse. Viserys himself had agreed to accept and the queen consort had no choice but to give her little daughter in marriage to a blonde lord. The problem was that her son was left without a fiancée.

Aemond didn't worry her, after all he was growing up quite quickly and she knew that he was more inclined to become a warrior than to fulfill his marital responsibilities. But Aegon, however, was a lost cause.

It was no secret that Alicent had always felt disappointed in her eldest son. He was careless, lazy, and a hopeless alcoholic, qualities that couldn’t be celebrated at all. Now that her beloved father had returned, the queen didn’t hesitate to consult him on the matter, hoping that the man had a solution for the problem that afflicted her, and together they analyzed what was the best option to unite the king's first-born son. Especially after, years ago, Rhaenyra and Daemon got married and moved to Dragonstone indefinitely.

“It must be someone we completely trust, someone who cannot dare to hurt us because they know that their blood is linked to ours.”

The Arryns were loyal to the future queen Rhaenyra and some of the houses south of Vale were too. The Westerlands was the richest section of the Seven Kingdoms and was already secured, so it seemed prudent to the king's hand to go for the next widest section: The Reach. The most formidable options within this area were the Hightower and the Tyrell. Obviously taking the first option would be a waste since the members of that house would support Aegon without complaint due to their kinship, so the decision was made with the direct heir of Highgarden.

King Viserys agreed to the idea without putting up many obstacles, since poppy milk clouded his judgment most of the time and also the affairs of his first son had never interested him much.

The union was sealed as soon as the deal was offered to Lyonel Tyrell, who was extremely happy to be able to assure his family a future with said marriage. It was thus that he gave you, his only daughter, to Prince Aegon II Targaryen.

And the second the boy saw you, he absolutely hated you.

He had come to the idea (very unpleasant, by the way) of marrying his younger sister and now that his mother was forcing him to marry a complete stranger, he couldn't be angrier. In a short time he would turn twenty and it seemed pathetic to him that at that point he would have to offer shows like those before the kingdom. Because the wedding wasn’t simple, of course, but thousands and thousands of guests were present at the banquet that Alicent forced the king to prepare, claiming by saying that he had done the same for Princess Rhaenyra's wedding.

“It is a pleasure to finally see each other, your grace. They have told me a lot about you”

You had said those precise words the first time you had met, when his mother organized a walk so that you could 'get to know each other better', although supervised by her own eyes that were behind you, making sure that her son didn’t commit any indecency. But no matter how sweetly you smiled and spoke them, Aegon could sense that you were lying.

There was hatred in your eyes and a clear resentment towards the life from which you were torn, as if it weren’t an honor to have the opportunity to marry the prince of the seven kingdoms. Your hypocritical words represented an insult to the boy and that is why he decided from the first moment that he would hate you deeply.

With your mere existence you would have deprived him of his freedom, his entertainment, his youth. He would be tied to you for future occasions, he would have to take you to all the events, secure your food, your clothes. share the same roof and pretend to be nice to you in the eyes of others. And, besides, he could have thought of a lot of candidates better than you, physically speaking. Your beauty was quite ordinary for his taste, as if he were looking at any painting; cheap and repetitive.

“I regret to admit that I am not so fortunate, Lady Tyrell. But I am happy for the union of our houses” he lied, in the same way that you had done.

And it was obvious that this didn’t go unnoticed by you, that you had the same critical eye as your recent fiancé but that you sought to maintain composure in the presence of your future mother-in-law.

On the wedding day Aegon had a good time only because he was able to drown himself in monumental quantities of liquor and because he was able to eat as much as he wanted of the exquisite banquet. He didn't even pay a bit of attention to how you looked in the wedding dress that the royal seamstresses had been in charge of making in record time, because when the time came he flattered you superficially and then ignored the matter. The ceremony kiss was the first you shared, and it was so fleeting and awkward that the prince felt disappointed. On the wedding night he was so drunk that he didn't even look at you.

You knew that the unfortunate day would come when you would have to carnally please the young man and the simple thought of being defiled in this way caused you terror and nausea in equal parts.

It was a stranger whom you had married, of whom the only thing you knew was his noble title and name.

In the days following your marriage, unfortunately or fortunately, Aegon didn’t even speak to you. You didn't have to share a room, so it was easier for him to completely ignore you while he went about his ways.

You had to admit that the only good thing about having taken this trip was the beautiful landscapes that King's Landing offered you. Your room had a direct view of Blackwater Bay and you spent several days looking out the window at the beautiful sea. Sometimes you could watch Prince Aemond ride his dragon, and honestly, the size of the beast scared you a little. You hadn't had the chance to observe Aegon in Sunfyre yet but if he was as impressive as Vhagar, then he would be quite a sight.

A week passed, then another and another where you were nothing more than a guest in the palace. You didn't talk to anyone, you ate dinner alone, you barely saw the outside of the castle. Sometimes you went to the Sept, pretending to pray, but really just killing the endless boring hours of the day. You were somewhat lucky if you found Helaena, the most sensible and calm within the royal family, because you had pleasant conversations with her. When you met the queen it was a little more difficult, because she asked you endless questions in which you had to fake the answers. How could you be fulfilling your parenting responsibilities if the capricious prince wouldn't deign to lay a finger on you?

After a month, Alicent seemed to take matters into her own hands and forced her eldest son to take you to sleep in the same room as him. However, Aegon seemed to want to blame you for something you hadn't chosen. He never spoke to you and every time you went to bed, he would stand with his back to you as far away as possible. And as if that weren’t enough, he had explicitly ordered his guards not to allow you to leave the room unless it was in his company. It was his way of punishing you, of getting even for the complaints of his mother and grandfather regarding his lack of interest in marriage.

“My mother wants us to attend a dinner tonight” you were so unaccustomed to hearing his voice addressing you that it took you a second to process what he was telling you “I will talk to the maids to bring you a suitable dress.”

You didn't know what to say. You didn't want to go to that dinner, nor did you want to be with him, or wear one of those tight, annoying dresses. Aegon, noticing your silence, deigned to look at you and in your eyes he could see the aversion you felt for him. It was something difficult to mask and he had seen it on so many faces that it was nothing new.

“As you wish, prince.”

A bitter laugh came from your husband's throat.

“Don't be a hypocrite, for God's sake. I know you hate me as much as I hate you. Save appearances for guests, not in the chambers."

You wouldn’t have had the courage to admit out loud what his majesty had said, but you didn’t dare to contradict him either. You had to play the role of a self-sacrificing and suitable wife for the man if you wanted to keep your honor, but above all your head.

You tried, with all your might, to see some quality in Aegon that you liked so that you could treat him in a better way, which always resulted in something useless. Perhaps if he had been nicer to you, you could have known how to forgive his faults, but even that wasn’t granted to you.

The dinner was mostly family-oriented, with the guest of honor being from House Baratheon whose purpose was to discuss some political matters with the king and queen. Due to his health, Viserys didn’t usually leave his room more than necessary, however, that night the occasion warranted it.

“Lady Tyrell, how is your stay in King's Landing?”

The king had a reputation for being gentle with his guests and was the first person to ask you a personal question, so the smile you showed him was genuine.

“Very pleasant, your grace. The servants treat me as well as possible and I must admit that the views from my room are beautiful. Your dragon is impressive, Prince Aemond, by the way.”

The boy, who wasn't all that expressive, just looked at you for a moment and tilted his head down slightly.

“I'm glad you like it, princess.”

"And my son? How is our Aegon treating you?”

That question was more complicated to answer, since it required expressing a lie. Everyone present focused their attention on you, except your husband who had been staring into nothingness for a long time.

“Very well, my king. He’s a good husband and I am happy to have been able to unite our houses.”

The aforementioned snorted, incredulous at what you were saying at the table, and took a long drink from his glass of wine.

“And I hope very soon you can give us strong and beautiful heirs.”

Although that was intended as a compliment, you felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on you again.

“I wish the same. It will be an honor to serve the crown and bear the progeny of a house as formidable as yours."

The queen was pleased with your answer and for a moment felt sorry for you. She knew her son well, so deep down she knew that it wasn’t a gift from the gods to be married to him. The rest of the table looked at you curiously, wondering if you were serious, trying to be ironic, or just trying to play the good girl role.

Aegon, as expected, became intoxicated during dinner and when Queen Alicent announced that she was going to retire to sleep you thought it prudent to do the same. Your husband, however, had other wishes.

“Stay here,” he asked, his voice serious.

When he was drunk he looked you up and down, probably evaluating how worth it would be to decide to strip you naked and fuck you once and for all. Your body in the dress you were wearing looked better with a few drinks on him.

“I think it would be best to retire, my husband. This way you can stay with the men to chat and… drink”

“But I want you to stay here to keep me company,” he insisted, holding your wrist tightly “Or don't you want to please your prince?”

It wasn’t a loving request, but one for control. He wanted to have you there only to demonstrate his power over you, without paying attention to you or talking; only as an ornament.

“Aegon, enough,” Alicent interrupted, observing the scene that had begun to unfold. “Daughter, let's go to sleep. “I will accompany you”

“Fine, do whatever you want,” he spat contemptuously, abruptly releasing the wrist that was holding you. There was hatred in his eyes, but also pride.

The queen said goodbye to everyone present and then offered you her hand to take you away from there. You spent most of the way in silence, walking through the long, wide corridors of the fortress followed only by the faithful footsteps of Ser Criston Cole.

“You must be patient with him” he began to say “He is a particular man and sometimes… difficult, but I know that with your docile character you will be able to deal with his temperament.”

What did she know about your character? She didn't know you at all.

“So it shall be, Queen Alicent.”

“I understand what you are going through, dear. We both come from the same lands to endure the difficult task of accompanying a monarch. But it is our duty to carry it out with all the honor and temper worthy of our homes. Of course, I can trust that as a woman you will be able to help him fulfill another of the most important marital commitments, such as having children, to maintain the lineage and blood. For a virgin like you, Aegon may be rough, but... patience and resilience are among the best virtues. A woman in royalty must endure these things to give the best to the people.”

You had never wanted to be a princess. And just when you thought the queen was showing you compassion, you realized that she was only looking out for her interests and those of her family.

"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind"

She smiled and immediately left a kiss on your forehead, which could have been taken as a maternal kiss but which you didn't like at all. The longer you can postpone suffering, the better. If Aegon didn't even want to look at you, it was perfect.

That night, as soon as you touched the mattress and the silk sheets that decorated it, you began to cry until you fell asleep.

SECOND ACT: CONTROL

Time passed again and although the punishment of not leaving your room was not revoked, you found multiple activities with which to entertain yourself in the prince's absence. You filled your mornings and afternoons with reading, writing, knitting and embroidering. The nights were even more boring because most of the time your husband wasn't there either.

Rumors that you hadn’t yet consummated the marriage had spread through the halls of the palace and soon the smallfolk would murmur too. After all, the people couldn’t entertain themselves with anything more than the gossip and the plays that were going on in the poor neighborhoods, making fun of royal affairs.

You no longer even had the energy to deny those accusations and Aegon had given you the perfect opportunity by throwing you out of his room and refusing to leave the four walls of yours: if you didn't leave there, there was no way anyone would question you. And since you didn't have family inside the Keep, you didn't have any visitors either.

One night, however, your husband surprised you by entering your room. It had been days since you two had seen each other and his staggering around the room warned you that he was drunk again. You often wondered how he resisted drinking so much and the long-term effects it would have on his health, but right now your mind could only focus on the fear of what he might want in that state.

“Good night, dear,” he drawled, sounding as sarcastic as possible.

You were in your nightgown and you were carrying in your hand an old book that you had been reading and that you threw on the nightstand as soon as you saw him approaching you. You didn't have time to say or do anything else when he had already approached you in giant steps to grab you by the back of your neck and start kissing you. He was abrupt, careless, with his mouth smelling of wine and tasting even worse. You wanted to cry from helplessness.

“It's what everyone wants, isn't it?” he murmured, separating himself from you, but still holding you by the hair at the back of your neck. “A marriage arranged in a couple of days to form alliances. And that's it, my life was ruined thanks to my father wanting your stupid castle to expand his domain."

The truth is that couldn't be further from the truth. Viserys’s ambition had never been that, as he had been so little involved in the process that he simply didn’t care who his children were or were not married to. Except for Rhaenyra, of course.

Aegon continued:

"I didn’t want this. I didn't want to marry you, or anyone..."

“And you think I do?” you confronted him.

You were tired of the insult, the humiliation and him ignoring you as if you were worthless; even if that was what a husband did. And the most likely thing was that your words would be forgotten due to alcohol or that they would put an end to the wait for your suffering to begin and Aegon decided to take you once and for all.

“You have nothing to lose, prince,” you continued. “You get drunk as much as you want, you run away from your responsibilities and walk everywhere when I have to stay locked up here all day just because you want me to. I have to endure the suspicious looks of everyone because I still don't have an heir in the womb while you go and fuck your whores."

“I'm the prince and I fuck whoever I want, did you hear me?” he hissed. The grip on your hair had already begun to become painful and a few tears slipped down your cheeks “And I stop fucking whoever I want too. I'm not going to please anyone by getting you pregnant. There they will see if they come and force me to put my cock in you”

“Do you doubt that, your grace?” you exclaimed bitterly “Doubts that will force us to conceive?”

“So that's what you want? Do you want me to do it?”

“I want to go home. That is what I want. But my father used me as a bargaining chip and that's why I can't do anything."

“I'm sorry it was like that. If I had chosen my wife, I would surely have chosen someone prettier and more educated than you, but I can't do much either."

Once again, the man pushed you until your lips joined his and the same discomfort settled in you. He didn't kiss you with love, but with fury and violence to the point that you had to push him away when he bit you so hard that a trickle of blood began to come out of your lower lip. Aegon was also stained by it and with an acidic smile he ran the tip of his tongue all over his mouth to remove any traces.

Looking at you he didn't look happy, but he didn't look angry either. He just seemed fed up.

Everyone knew, or suspected, that the prince was very capable of taking sexual advantage of any woman. He had done it before with maids and prostitutes and had slept peacefully throughout that time. However, there was something about you that encouraged him not to. He didn't even think it was something about you specifically but about the situation, because he wanted to do the opposite of what he was ordered: if everyone ordered him to take you to have an heir, it automatically became an unpleasant act and at the same time that he refused.

He was hurt, not because of you but because of years and years of abuse and neglect. He didn't really know you at all, he only knew what you represented.

You were just the unlucky one who had married him.

"I hate you. I hate that you are my wife and you are not worthy of me even touching you” he snapped with disdain. You were still fighting to keep the tears inside your eyes and his vision had also blurred slightly “I wish I had never met you.”

“The feeling is mutual, your grace,” you expressed, your voice breaking. If it was an offense to the crown, you wouldn't even care anymore and if he killed you right there you wouldn't regret it too much either.

Aegon looked at you one last time before staggering back out the door without another word, closing it behind him with a loud gesture and leaving you alone in the room. The reality that you had escaped, once again, from being raped by the man fell on you like a bucket of cold water and your knees weakened until you fell to the floor.

You were hurt, tired, and defeated by the stress of the situation and the fear that had washed over you the entire time. Luckily he was gone, otherwise you didn't know if you would have endured what he had to do to you. It was better to have him busy in a brothel than to have to endure him in your bed.

You wished you could talk to someone and cry on a loved one’s shoulder, only to realize a second later that that was impossible. Aegon was your new family, now you belonged to the Targaryens and you would have to do as they wished.

Anger completely overwhelmed you to the point where you stood up from your seat and began throwing pieces of glassware all over the room, in a violent outburst at what had just happened and the way you felt. None of the guards outside your door dared to come in to check on you and soon enough you fell back to the ground, exhausted from the effort.

As you cried, perhaps for the umpteenth time since you had been married, you thought about how you would never be able to love Prince Aegon. Not even if you tried.

THIRD ACT: PAIN

After months, the inevitable arrived. The truth was that the first time you felt sorrow and anger, but the following times it became more tolerable. Not because it was better, but because you began to get used to it. Aegon didn't change his attitude towards you one bit. You indeed spent more time together, although that didn’t mean that you got along better or that you had begun to have more sympathy for each other.

The only advantage was that you had started to be friends with some people in the palace. Your sister-in-law, to begin with, as well as some of the maids who were in charge of looking after you, as they turned out to be your only company during those days. Those distractions were more than enough for you, considering the situation you were in, and they kept you sane as time went by.

Almost like a punishment from heaven, it seemed that you weren’t pregnant yet, since your biological processes seemed to continue working to the letter. That meant that, unfortunately, you would have to keep trying; when Aegon was lost enough to forget who you were and you had to stand still as a statue to let him loom over you.

You often liked to imagine what your life would have been like if you had stayed in Highgarden. Nobody knew it yet, but there you had found your first love and although it never went beyond a few kisses, you treasured the memory with particular affection. You had always wanted to marry a sweet man who loved and respected you, who would give you your place as a wife and adore you day and night; someone with whom you could feel protected, cared for, but above all happy. You thought, naively, that that boy you had met and who was nothing more than a commoner could have given you that life, but all those possibilities were nothing more than fantasies in which you tried to lock yourself in to feel less miserable with your unpleasant reality.

One night Helaena had invited you to a modest dinner in her company that you couldn't refuse, since none of your husbands were present and some time with friends could clear your mind. You didn't even know where the prince was, although it was expected that he was spending some time in the town with his friends.

“Sometimes I feel sad about our situation,” said the blonde. You were in the privacy of her chambers, not even with the maids present, so confessions like that were allowed “But I am happy that you are my friend, something that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise.”

“I'm glad to talk to you too,” you smiled sincerely. “You're the best thing I've found around here.”

“My brothers aren't that bad, they're just… well, we've had a hard life. And that's why they behave like that."

“I think there is no justification for being a…” idiot, you wanted to say, but you had to remember that you were in the presence of the princess, “a person who is rude to others. But I guess that happens with royalty, right? They do what they want without consequences”

"I guess so. Kings, princes, the heirs, lords, dukes…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laughed bitterly “It's probably a masculine quality.”

You never thought your sister-in-law would have that kind of humor and to be honest, most of the time she was a comic relief for the situations you two were going through. Sometimes her prophecies scared you, especially the way she phrased them, but you wanted to think that her premonitions would never affect you directly.

When you finally got tired of chatting and the food was finished, you decided to return to your room, so you could have a peaceful night's rest. It was raining outside and thunder echoed in the distance, making the atmosphere slightly gloomy, but at the same time cooling every corner of King's landing.

The novelty of your position was no longer important enough to require you to be escorted by guards twenty-four hours a day, so you were able to slowly walk through all the corridors that led to your sanctuary. It was modest but cute, although not on the level of Aegon’s.

A man was guarding the door and you bowed your head to him to let you pass, which he did without any opposition. Once inside you got rid of your shoes and unbuttoned your corset, not caring that the room was almost in darkness; only the moonlight illuminated from the window. You took a few steps forward and squealed when you discovered that there was another person in the room, sitting at the small table with a drink in his hand. You would have started screaming for help if you hadn't noticed that said intruder had silver hair falling like a curtain over his face.

"Your grace?" you asked cautiously.

It isn’t usual for Aegon to drink in your room, as he preferred other places with more interesting company, and when you didn’t receive an answer you approached slowly. You thought that at best he had simply fallen asleep and at worst he would be dead.

At first his long, wavy hair covered your view of his face, but when he noticed your presence he raised his head and then you could see him. His features became clearer as lightning illuminated him from the outside and for a second you were horrified.

His cheek was red and a trickle of blood was dripping from his nose, however, what surprised you the most was seeing his eyes completely swollen.

“For the seven, I… I'll go call a maester”

“Don't even think about it,” he exclaimed hoarsely, seeing that you were already rushing towards the door.

Your husband didn't sound like his usual angry tone, but rather he seemed... hurt.

You thought for a second about what the appropriate reaction to the situation was. You couldn't leave the room because, in addition to the guards murmuring, it would be impolite to leave him in that state; also, where would you go? If you ignored him, he would probably take it as an insult and he had already made it clear that he didn't want to see someone who could take care of those injuries.

You hated him, it was true, but you weren't an insensitive monster either.

"Who did this to you?"

Aegon was surprised by how soft, even kind, your question sounded and the intoxication gave him some courage to answer.

“My mother and my grandfather. Mostly my mother, my grandfather rather dedicated his efforts to reminding me how useless I am”

You didn't know what to say. You never believed that the queen would be capable of hitting one of her sons like that. You didn't believe it from any mother, actually.

With some trepidation you took one of the chairs and placed it in front of him, expecting him to immediately push you away or ask you to get out of his sight. However, the prince didn't seem to have enough energy to do any of those things.

He had a lost look on his face and tears began to run down his face.

“Nothing… nothing I do pleases her. Neither to her, nor to my grandfather. All the time they are pressuring me, demanding me, yelling at me. Apparently Otto still hopes that my father will name me king, but I've never wanted that. They blame me for drinking all the time and how do they expect them not to? My father cares so little about me and my mother hates me. All his life he has hated me. She does it, my brothers… and so do you. My own wife hates me. Everyone… everyone who knows me does it”

You were silent for a moment.

There were mixed feelings inside you, because you couldn't forget the mistreatment that the man had given you during those months, nor the way he used you for his pleasure. He was right when he said you hated him. However, there was a compassionate part of you, deep down, that felt sorry for the man's state.

“And sometimes I just want to be dead. I just wish all the shit would go away and drowning in alcohol and dying would take away Alicent's problem and allow her to focus her attention on something better”

His gaze lifted and he looked at you with crystallized eyes.

“Maybe you should poison me one day. So your suffering would also end”

“Your highness, I cannot do that”

“But would you like it? Do you hate me enough to wish me dead?”

“Of course not,” you said quickly.

"Liar. You lie like everyone else. You want me dead”

You knew that saying something negative at that moment, in the state he was in, could result in him making some incoherence that you would be blamed for the next morning. So it was best to act cautiously.

“I don't think anyone wants that”

“My mother does. My father, Rhaenyra does it, and so does her stupid new husband…”

“Your grace…” you interrupted him harshly. Listening to him sink into his self-indulgence was too much to bear “You better go to sleep, don't you think? Now you're not thinking clearly, you'll feel better in the morning."

But Aegon seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to anything you had to say to him.

“I guess I just wish someone wouldn't completely detest my existence, you know?”

Aegon had done terrible things to you, of course, but seeing him at that moment made you wonder if all of this was the product of poor parenting and psychological abuse that had been perpetuated for twenty long years. You couldn't say your father loved you, not after what he had done, but at least he hadn't constantly hurt you as the man in front of you had. You knew better than anyone that hate had to be healed with empathy and for a brief moment you felt soft for him.

Once Aegon was a small child, without sins, without accumulated hatred, without evil... and apparently that frightened child hadn’t been completely buried, because it was him who cried inconsolably and saw death as a viable alternative to end that suffering. However, there is no redemption without guilt, right? You don't get to heaven without first repenting.

You stayed silent for a long time, listening to him sob, and when you gathered the courage you spoke:

“Prince, can I be honest with you?”

You had spoken in a low and benevolent voice, while you slid from your chair until you were kneeling in front of him. The boy didn't even want to take advantage of that position for a sexual act, he was simply too tired and drained to think. You placed your hands on his knees and seeing that he nodded, you continued:

“You say you wish someone wouldn't hate you, but have you ever made an effort to do so? Or have you even wondered why people feel that way about you?”

“It's something natural for them”

“I didn't feel it,” you said, honestly. You hated the idea of getting married out of obligation, but if he had been different from the beginning maybe your feelings for him would be too “And you made me feel it. With your contempt, your humiliations, your punishments…”

“If everyone thinks you're a monster, what's the point of contradicting them?”

“And then you prefer to agree with them?”

You were probably taking too many liberties with the prince, but you would never have a chance to talk to him like that again. He was vulnerable and therefore less defensive than normal.

“Every person is responsible for their actions,” you continued. “You can't change how the queen or king feels about you, but you can choose to offer something better to others. If it’s your desire that people not hate you, that won’t happen overnight just because you tell it to. It takes time, effort and above all it requires kindness. If you live regretting the concept that people have of you, without doing anything to change it, then you will live a lifetime of dissatisfaction. If you seriously want someone to feel happy about your existence then pursue that goal, don’t expect it to be granted to you as a divine work.”

A deeper cry began to well up from the man and you almost thought he would lean down for your hug. Still, he didn't.

“I don't know how to be someone else. I have always been this”

“Not always, that's for sure. Water that stagnates rots and becomes a swamp. The one that runs, on the other hand, becomes a river and flows into the ocean.”

You raised the handkerchief you always carried and, in an act of kindness that was also intended to be an offering of peace, you gently wiped the tears and dried blood from his face. Aegon squirmed as he had never experienced that kind of care.

“You just have to ask yourself: what do you choose to be?”

For an endless moment he watched you. His judgment was clouded by drunkenness, but he wondered if he wasn't hallucinating and you were simply the voice of his conscience telling him something he had never wanted to accept.

It was easier to blame others for his mistakes, to justify himself by saying that everything about him was his mother's fault and that if he behaved the way he did it was only a defense mechanism. Aegon had never thought about how his treatment of women was a direct consequence of Alicent's upbringing: if his own mother had hurt him, why wouldn't other women do the same to him? And since he was convinced that they were all going to do it, he preferred to turn them into objects that he could use for his benefit.

He was so drunk and so exhausted from all the crying he had shed that he simply pushed your hand away from his face and stood up from the chair, without saying a word. You, now standing, saw him begin to undress and the first thing you thought was that he would seek to heal his sorrows by having sex with you. However, he only got rid of the essentials and then lay on his stomach on the bed. Without any choice, you took off your clothes for the day, put on a nightgown and also lay down on the mattress to sleep.

You were sure that the next day Aegon wouldn’t remember anything and you weighed the possibility of the whole story repeating itself, in an endless and painful loop for the two of you. And if you were right, it would be a shame if you had to live like this for the rest of your days.

FOURTH ACT: REDEMPTION

“Do you know where Meryna is?” you asked one of the maids who had come in to change your bedding.

“No, your grace”

“I'm starting to get hungry and she still hasn't brought my breakfast,” you exclaimed sadly.

You had woken up a while ago and had gotten dressed to go for a walk after eating, to see if this would cheer you up a little. It had been a few days since Aegon had opened up in the privacy of your room and after that you had barely seen him, much less spoken to him. You believed that everything was due to a matter of pride or even shame for what you had witnessed and you simply didn’t give it importance, because you knew that eventually he would approach you again. You just had to wait for him to want to do it.

Almost as if by summons, the black-haired girl appeared through the door, looking agitated and embarrassed by the delay. Furthermore, she came empty-handed.

"Princess…"

“Didn't you bring breakfast?” you asked, still sounding cordial but slightly surprised.

“I'm very sorry, it's just that Prince Aegon asked me to bring the food to the royal dining room. He is waiting for you there, he told me to come and get you.”

He hadn’t mentioned requiring your presence for any breakfast and, according to you, there were no guests in the palace to accompany. The two women noticed your dismay and Meryna stood waiting for a response.

“Did he tell you why?”

“No, your grace”

"Good. Then tell him I'll be there in a moment."

You only took a few minutes to change your dress, one more suitable for being in the presence of the prince and in case there was a guest you didn't know about. There were no guards at your door so you were able to walk to the dining room by yourself and were surprised to see that only your husband was at the table. He had an expression that you interpreted as a mix of impatience and nerves.

“Oh, you finally arrived. Sit down. You, bring the princess something to drink,” he ordered a maid. He used to call you that in the presence of guests, but it was rare for him to have that courtesy when alone.

“Are we waiting for someone?”

"No. I just thought you might want to have breakfast together.”

You were already sitting next to him, and for a second you watched him with a frown. Had he hit his head somewhere or why was he acting so strange?

“Do you prefer juice or wine, your highness?

"Juice"

“And bring her some strawberries,” Aegon exclaimed.

There was something about the situation that scared you, because you imagined that he wouldn't be treating you so kindly without wanting something in return. But you were already his wife and he did whatever he wanted with you, what more could he want from you?

You looked him up and down, as if searching for some sign, but he looked completely normal. He was wearing one of those full black robes he was used to, with a golden chain with emeralds decorating the hem of his neck and a belt accentuating his figure. The dark circles in his eyes were pronounced, as always, but the look was not that of someone angry; you would even say that he looked somewhat passive, even sleepy.

While you were thinking about all that, you remembered the last conversation you had had with him. You feared that madness had finally exploded in your husband and the food you were about to eat was poisoned, as he had suggested at the time. Perhaps out of courtesy he was waiting for you to take the first bite and, trying to control the trembling in your hands, you took a portion of the cold cuts on your plate to put it in your mouth. Luckily the food didn't taste different and after seeing that the man ate it with the utmost calmness, you assumed that it didn't contain any poison either.

There was freshly baked bread, jam, some cheeses, the aforementioned cold cuts, a variety of fruits, scrambled eggs with fresh herbs and chives, as well as some stuffed buns for dessert. It was a mini banquet and as you ate it you couldn't help but wonder why this show of kindness was due.

Aegon didn't seem to have any intention of talking and you didn't try to force him, not wanting to either. The atmosphere was one of peace and tranquility, one you had not experienced since your wedding day until now, and it was a very different but strangely pleasant feeling.

It was just a couple sharing breakfast time, but for two people who come from such a broken home it felt like a totally new experience.

You continued in silence until most of the things served were finished, leaving only what wasn’t to your palate's liking or that your body was simply no longer able to ingest.

“Do you need anything else, your majesty?”

“Clear this table, we won't eat anymore,” he said to the maid, nonchalantly pointing to the leftovers you had left. Then he looked at you “Satisfied?”

"I am. Everything was delicious”

“I want us to do the same tomorrow. I will send a maid for you, so get ready soon,” he said decisively.

Then he got up from his chair, stretched a little, and left the room without saying anything else to you.

You didn't see your husband the rest of the day, but the next morning he kept his promise without fail. Although the breakfast menu was different the routine was the same and again it made you wonder what the reason for it was.

The next day he also requested your presence for breakfast and you concluded that he intended to make it a habit. For the rest of the morning you were supposed to dedicate yourself to your activities, but after a week of following that routine Aegon informed you that he had other plans for you.

“I want you to come with me for a walk.”

"To the exterior?"

"Yeah. I have training with Ser Criston but I don't wish to attend, so you will be my excuse. I'll tell him that the princess wanted to go for a walk and that I couldn't let her go alone."

He was telling you that lie almost like a childish prank and you would swear he was about to smile.

“Huh, okay. If you want it, we will”

You were still confused by his actions, because in all the time you had been there it was the first time he treated you decently. You didn't know if he was still drinking in large quantities, but at least when he went to sleep he no longer reeked of liquor in the same way. And all that week he hadn't forced you to have sex with him.

What had motivated the prince to change his way of behaving towards you?

"Do you want to go to the beach? I will order a couple of horses to be saddled for us” he exclaimed when you had already left the dining room.

You couldn't refuse to go to the bay, because in your entire life you had never seen the ocean and your curiosity was greater than any other feeling. Besides, you loved horses, and being with them might even make you feel better.

Aegon did as he told you and soon enough you were in the stable. He had ordered a beautiful white mare for you, with a silver mane the color of your husband's hair and a formidable build.

You approached to pet the animal, carefully, and tensed completely when you felt another body behind yours. Until that moment you hadn't realized how warm your husband was.

“She's pretty, right?”

His voice sounded at your ear level, as he had also reached out to touch Frostfire’s hair.

"She is"

“I guess you know how to ride,” he muttered under his breath and you let out an offended sigh.

“Of course I do. Highgarden is the heart of the chivalry of the seven kingdoms”

After saying that you turned your head just a little and met his gaze, indigo eyes with hints of lilac looking at you carefully. You could feel his breath against yours and at that closeness your cheeks had already turned red involuntarily.

He separated from you and then went to choose his horse, a black thoroughbred with beautiful braids, to get on it and ask the guards to open the door for you. You almost managed to sneak away, but Ser Criston stopped the two of you just before you could do so, claiming that he had a scheduled practice with the prince.

“I'm taking my wife to Blackwater, she hasn't had a chance to visit since her arrival.”

“But your grace, your father…”

“We will continue with training later, Ser Criston,” he said firmly.

“Will you go to Blackwater without an escort?”

“I will”

"That's impossible"

“Don't worry, I don't want to be accompanied. Just rest for now.”

“But you are the prince.”

"Exactly. I am the prince and I want my orders to be respected."

The boy was a smug son of a bitch when he put his mind to it, just like now. The man had no choice but to obey the words and then the two of you were able to leave. You could get there on foot, but Aegon had felt like riding and had wanted an alternative to quickly escape if something went wrong.

You walked along a path that still belonged to the Red Keep grounds, so there was no great danger of being attacked along the way, and you soon reached the bay. It was even more beautiful up close and as soon as you got off the mare you forgot any courtesy towards your husband, as you rushed towards the shore to watch the waves crash. Your pumps and dress were soaked when the water reached your calves, but it didn't bother you too much because you were happy for the reason.

“Have you never been to the ocean?”

“I'm afraid not, your grace. There was never any business that required me to be on the coast of The Reach and I have always lived surrounded by hills and forests. I had seen some rivers, but…”

Before you could continue your story you staggered because of a wave and to avoid falling you tried to hold on to whatever was within reach, which turned out to be the man next to you. He supported you from the elbows with his strong arms.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he laughed. For the first time in your presence, he had laughed “But we should get away from the shore. I wouldn't want to take you back to the castle all soaked”

You heeded the boy's advice and, still leaning on him, walked towards the sand. The sky was slightly cloudy, so the weather was perfect for walking around without any discomfort.

“I've never visited Highgarden, is it as impressive as rumored?” he asked, as he began to walk in the opposite direction of the Red Keep.

Although you never believed that the prince would be interested in such things, you began to talk to him about your hometown with particular emotion. You told him about his surroundings, about the castle and you also told in greater detail the gardens that once belonged to you and were full of golden roses, as was the emblem of your house.

You were surprised by how attentive the boy was to everything you had to say to him and for the first time since your arrival, you didn't feel like a stranger in your own skin. Talking about your home was like remembering a part of yourself, as if you were showing him your insides through stories of the beautiful hills where you had ridden so many times.

“Everything sounds wonderful,” he concluded. The sea breeze had already ruffled both of your hair and he took advantage of this to brush a strand out of your face “Someday I should go visit it”

“Yes, maybe you would like that” you exclaimed smiling. You had come too far and it was time to walk back, towards where you had left Frostfire and Moonshadow tied up “Your grace, may I ask you a question?”

"Yeah"

You opened your mouth to ask him why he was doing all that and why he had suddenly started showing so much interest in you. You wanted to know the reason for his unexpected kindness and his abstinence from activities that weren’t very pleasant for you. But before you could speak, you took a moment to observe him. His skin looked paler in the light outside and his silver hair waved in the wind, however, what caught your attention the most was the serene expression on his face.

Although you couldn't say that you knew Aegon, the time you had lived together had shown you that his personality was extremely challenging. If you pointed out that he was being nicer to you and questioned him about it, he would most likely revert to his old behavior towards you simply on a whim. So no, you couldn't ask him about anything or you'd ruin the minuscule part of a good relationship you had managed to build.

“I was thinking... Do you think we can one day bring golden roses to the royal gardens? Green and gold are part of your emblem too and that would beautify the place. I could take care of them, if you want.”

“That's a good idea,” he exclaimed happily. You had already turned around to return and you calculated that it must be after noon “I will order them to be brought in as soon as possible, in the hope that the hot weather at King's landing will not ruin them”

“I hope not,” you said, although a little less enthusiastic than before.

You had been lost in thought after the appearance of that question that you did not verbalize and suddenly Aegon feared that he had made some mistake. You walked a few meters in silence, until this state was unbearable for his majesty and he stopped you by holding your shoulders. You were about to ask what had happened when he pulled you against his lips, stealing your breath. It was still a rough kiss, but this time less desperate than before. His hands went down to your waist and held you to his body until there wasn’t even a centimeter of distance left, with your belly touching the heat of his stomach.

“Still no signs that you are pregnant?”

You thought that, perhaps, your answer was in that question and that the only thing the man wanted was to convince you to hurry up the matter of producing an heir.

“I'm sorry to say no. It's very unfortunate."

“We'll have to keep trying,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if he wanted to downplay the matter “Mother insists on it.”

“Has your mother always been like this to you?”

"What are you talking about?"

“It's just… she seems to have everything under control all the time.”

You couldn't be further from the truth and rather than describing it that way Aegon would have said that she was controlling. She wanted to have things under control, but she couldn't and as an example was the eldest prince himself, whom she had never been able to persuade to behave the way he did.

“Well, she is the queen. I guess that's how she must be” he exclaimed without much encouragement. He was still holding you by the waist and was surprised by how intimate that position was. “But we better get back, they must be wondering where we are”

“Maybe they even think I ran away, taking advantage of the fact that you weren't there to watch me,” you joked.

"Would you do it?"

"Do what?"

“Run away”

You looked at the man, incredulous, because it was stupid to think that if you were planning to run away you would just tell him like that. That was the characteristic of it, that it was surprising and hidden.

“Why would I do, your grace?”

“Maybe because I'm a bad husband,” he said quietly. You weren't understanding the game Aegon was playing and it was driving you crazy.

“I wouldn't dare do it. I have nowhere to go and I know I couldn't even get through the doors without your majesty noticing,” you replied.

The prince didn’t want pragmatic reasons like that, but rather his question was more aimed at whether it was your will to abandon him.

Against all odds a couple of raindrops began to fall and very soon a storm had already brewed over your head. It was useless to run, but you did it anyway and Aegon held your hand to prevent either of you from falling due to a trip. Somewhere along the way you lost one of your pumps and at this you began to laugh and he, infected by your joy, did the same. It amused you greatly to think of the face the queen would make when she saw you enter the castle, with her eldest son soaked from head to toe and your clothing incomplete. But you also laughed from the joy of feeling so alive in that moment. You felt like a girl playing in the rain and despite the coldness of the falling water, you felt a certain warmth traveling from the tips of your fingers to your chest.

Although he was sure that you were an excellent rider, your husband insisted on taking you on his own horse to avoid any accidents and you agreed without complaint. His body sheltered you all the way to the Red Keep and once there, under the roof, he helped you down from the chair with extreme care. You didn't think he was that strong until you felt him grab your waist and place you on the floor effortlessly.

“Ask the maids to prepare a bath for you, or you will catch a cold,” he said, putting on your back a cloak he had found hanging on one of the walls.

There was the hint of a smile on his face and seeing him behave like this towards you made you feel weird. You almost felt like he was trying to be affectionate with you, even though he wasn't quite succeeding.

“You should do the same,” you exclaimed softly.

Motivated by the kind moment you had shared, you reached out to brush away the wet hair that had stuck to his face and he shivered at your touch. It was the first time you touched him that way, out of conviction and with care.

“Your majesty, Lord Hand is looking for you. He says he needs to talk to you urgently."

“My grandfather,” he sighed at you, as if wanting to apologize for the words the guard behind you had just said.

He gave the man Moonshadow's reins and then explained that someone had to go get the horse you had left in the bay, so you assumed your presence there was no longer necessary. You were about to leave when he stopped you, grabbing your arm somewhat roughly and looking at you with a feeling that you couldn't decipher.

“I'll go to your room tonight,” he informed.

You felt a little disappointed by the reality of having to share a bed with him, after so long without having done so, but you were grateful that he was at least warning you.

You nodded your goodbyes and he did the same, forming an unspoken agreement. You thought maybe that was why he had been polite to you, so he could get back under your bed sheets. But there was no point in doing it, he wasn't courting you to win your hand, but you were already his wife and he had made it very clear that he could do with you whatever he wanted.

Still a little confused, you were escorted to your bedroom, where you hoped that a tub with hot water and essences would be enough to appease all those doubts that were growing in you.

FIFTH ACT: LOVE

At some point Aegon would get tired of all this, you were sure. But while that moment arrived, you were thoroughly enjoying all kinds of attention you received from your husband. He kept his promise to bring golden roses for the gardens and although the queen wasn’t very happy, in the end they adorned some of the busiest sections of the place. You took that as an act of good faith, so you thought that maybe the thought of repaying him for some of the decency he was showing you wouldn't kill you.

There wasn’t a single breakfast that you skipped, except when the prince was required for political matters or had to travel. You were too proud to admit that you had begun to genuinely enjoy his company, as you still had some distrust due to how temperamental the man was. It wasn't all sunshine and flowers, as the young man still had some outbursts that made you fear him and reminded you that this was who you were really talking to.

His drinking habits hadn’t changed much, since although he was able to handle it during the first week after that period, it was inevitable that he would go back to his old ways and drink an entire jug of wine in a couple of minutes. With sex it was the same, because he continued to fuck you without signs of care and regularly when he was lost in drink. It amused you to think that perhaps that was the reason why you still didn't carry a child in your womb; that he was too drunk when you tried to be of any use.

However, as your relationship strengthened you could notice slight (you almost swore they were imaginary) changes when having sex. He was no longer as rough towards your body as before and tried to thrust into you a little slower, as if he wanted to lengthen the moment and not just unload into you and sleep like a baby after that. Maybe it was just that the drink made him lethargic, but he had even started seeking your lips in the middle of the act or kissing everything within reach of the skin on your neck. You didn't intend to spend much time analyzing his behavior because for you it already represented a victory that he had stopped hurting you after every time you had sex and, honestly, you didn't want to inquire about it. Once again you thought it was more prudent not to question the prince and simply let him continue behaving that way.

Until one night, things looked different for you.

When you heard your husband open the door, quite late at night, and saw him approach your bed, you knew that the same dynamic of nighttime visits would take place. Aegon, already hard as a rock, would kiss you a few times, undress, order you to undress, and then position on top of you to satisfy himself. Needless to say, under the confidence that being in the dark gave you and your husband's lack of interest, you looked away or concentrated on something else while your martyrdom was carried out. He would finish, lie naked next to you, and then sleep soundly with no memory the next morning of what had happened.

Aegon called your name, just to check that you were awake or otherwise wake you up, and you were surprised to hear that his voice sounded quite normal. He wasn't slurring his words like usual.

"Your grace?" you called back, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him.

He did what was expected and as soon as he was far enough away, he started kissing you. You must have known something was wrong from that first moment, when he grabbed your cheek with his wide hand and offered you the most passionate kiss you had ever had. It is reiterated that Aegon was always somewhat careless in intimacy, but this first contact hadn’t felt as impatient as others, but rather was something more careful and planned.

Only one other man had kissed you like that in your life and although the feeling brewing in your chest must have been pleasant, the truth was that it wasn't. You had endured too much abuse from the white-haired man so your body didn't know how to react otherwise. That's why when he continued kissing you for longer than usual and then laid you down meekly, you couldn't do anything but tense uncomfortably.

You were only in your nightgown so there wasn't much difficulty in sliding the straps to the side, almost exposing your tits. Suddenly Aegon lowered his kisses to your neck, where his stubble scratched your skin. Knowing that he would be busy in that area, you turned your head away to focus your gaze on a tapestry on the wall. However, you got a surprise when you felt the prince move away from you and then a bigger one when he took your face between his fingers, placing his index finger and thumb on each of your cheeks to force you to look at him. At first you thought there was anger in his eyes, but after looking at them for a second more you concluded that the feeling was more like that of someone insulted. And why? you asked yourself. What had you done that had offended the prince?

“Why are you looking away?”

His question had a certain aggressive tone, but, at the same time, he sounded hurt. With that you confirmed that he wasn’t drunk or that, if he was, he had drunk just enough to make him feel slightly dizzy. You couldn't tell the way your eyes looked at him, but Aegon interpreted your expression as one of disdain.

Unbeknownst to you, he had his own whirlwind of feelings inside him, one that was driving him crazy and causing him to look you up and down while still holding you. He’d never been like this on another night, so you were at the mercy of knowing how good or bad that would turn out.

Suddenly he seemed upset, you would even say disgusted, and surprisingly stood up from his position. The cold air hit you where he had been before and you sat on the bed to watch him, completely confused by the way he was behaving.

"What's going on…?"

“You don't want this,” he spoke firmly. It was obvious that you didn't want to and you wondered how he had barely realized it. “Not like that… I… no. Not this way"

His babbling confused you even more and when you saw him walk away with exaggerated steps until he left through the door, you couldn't help but feel totally amazed.

What was the reason for what your husband had just done?

The feeling of being abandoned was more hopeless than having him fuck you would have been, and for a moment you even felt ashamed. Maybe he didn't like you anymore or he would just go and cure his frustration in the bed of a woman you didn't know.

He had watched you very strangely and the whole scene wasn't like him. You even pinched yourself just to check that it wasn't some strange dream, getting a moan of pain in response to your question. You thought that perhaps you were acting impulsively, but barely a minute later you put on a green robe over your nightgown and headed towards the door, still not knowing exactly what you were going to do.

“Where are you going, your grace?” the guard on duty asked, putting his voluptuous body in your way.

“Prince Aegon, do you know where he went?”

“In that direction, your majesty. But I'm afraid I must recommend that you return to your room, it is dangerous to walk around the palace at this time."

“But I wish to see my husband,” you said firmly.

The man let out a sigh and then slid to the side of the hallway, leaving you a clear path. Even so, when you started walking you felt his footsteps following you because he probably wanted to make sure that something didn't happen to you. You walked for a while, but you knew it was useless when all you found were locked doors that you couldn't knock on and that you couldn't open either. If Aegon was in any of those rooms, you wouldn't know it. Defeated, you returned to your room and, as expected, found it empty again.

The next morning there wasn’t a single word about that event, but it was present in your mind throughout the day. You had already lived with him enough to realize that something was bothering him, however, upon noticing that he was less talkative during your usual breakfast, you decided to give him time.

You were about to leave the table when he stopped you, asking you to take your seat again and looking at you seriously.

“I have to travel for a couple of weeks,” he informed you. You were surprised to hear that he almost sounded sad “The king is required on some business and since my father can no longer travel, I will have to do it.”

“I hope the entire journey is favorable and the visit profitable, your grace,” you exclaimed cordially. However, your husband didn’t seem pleased with it.

One of his hands slid to hold yours, with a strength that surprised you. There was urgency in his grip, like he needed to hold on to something.

“Is that all you have to say?”

A couple of wrinkles appeared on your brow, as you clearly weren't understanding what he expected of you. Accompanying him would be reckless and you didn't know if he wanted you to keep him there at King's landing.

During those last months something had changed in the man's face, because those eyes surrounded by purple marks no longer saw you with the same aversion as the first time. And it disheartened Aegon that his attempts to please you were yielding no apparent fruit. He was giving you time, effort, and being kind to you like you had said was necessary, but he still couldn't help but feel that you still considered him a stranger.

He had been patient because he thought that, as time went by, you would begin to seek him out or not shy away from his touch. Aegon cared a lot about the physical, so every time he sneaked into your room he did so with the hope that you would welcome him with open arms and give yourself to him willingly. Countless nights he waited in his own room for you to show up to keep him warm and love him throughout the night. But it never happened and a part of him couldn't blame you either.

However, he was already tired of it. He wanted to make it clear to you that he not only wanted to give, but also receive. But forcing you to do anything would ruin everything; you had to want it.

“Have I said something that offended you, prince?”

“I just thought you would say you were going to miss me”

A laugh echoed in your throat at those words and for a second Aegon felt hurt, like you were mocking you. He was going to let go of your hand and walk away, insulted, but you squeezed his hand harder as a sign that you didn't want him to do that.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you. I just didn't think that if I harbored feelings of that kind they would be of interest to your majesty."

“Do you miss me when you don't see me?” he asked now, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of you “Or are you glad to have me away?”

You didn't know what those direct questions were about, because you didn't expect that a man like him would be plagued by uncertainty about knowing the answers.

“Not at all. I will always be willing to be with you whenever you want.”

“And you want to be with me?” he insisted.

“I think that what I want is not important”

“But I'm trying to make it so. I thought I was making it clear enough,”

He was angry, but not for the reasons you might think. It frustrated him that he was trying hard to improve and that your eyes continued to see him like that first time. Too many people were already observing him like that and he thought that, perhaps, since you were the most recent to do it, you could also be the first in whom he could manage to modify it.

You, however, were still too confused by his signs. Sometimes his attitude didn’t coincide with the intentions he had, since antipathy was often the only emotion with which he allowed himself to express and feel, accustomed to what he received during all his years of life.

All those months of effort were a direct product of the talk you had had with him, of that moment of weakness in which, instead of ignoring him like everyone else did, you had stayed with him. Aegon was aware that the treatment towards you was sometimes inhumane and he couldn’t explain how despite this you had wiped away his tears with such care, expressing nothing more than an act of integrity. Sometimes he even just imposed things on you to see if he could push you to the limit and he was surprised to see that you endured everything with honor and decency. You were good, something he could never be.

He didn't want to hear anything more and then let go of your hand, feeling rejected again.

"Majesty…"

"It's getting late. I have to go feed Sunfyre so he can endure the trip.”

“Will you travel by dragon?”

“How else would a Targaryen do it?” expressed obviously.

You were silent for a moment and then he stood up, ready to fulfill his obligations. In the afternoon he had already left, without emotional goodbyes or anything like that.

You had those weeks alone to reflect on everything that had been happening. You firmly believed that a cruel and evil person would always be that way, even if they hid it, because humans can’t change from one day to the next. Still, you had to allow Aegon the courtesy of admitting that he wasn't being a complete jerk lately.

You tried to think of any unpleasant moments with him during that week and although you found a couple, you realized that they had all been because of minor arguments or simply that one of the two of you had woken up in a bad mood. The hatred for the boy had been so ingrained in you that now it was difficult to decipher how much of it was due to things that were really happening and how much of it was a resentment carried from the past, at the beginning of that harmful relationship that existed between you.

He was no longer a mean man to you, he just sometimes had those logical slips for anyone who has never been taught to love. He didn't know how to care for you, how to talk to you, or even how to touch you properly. He had always existed alone and could still be seen reflected in his incessant desire for you to be the one to look for him, in his longing to know that you would miss him during his absence and in wanting you to look forward to his return. He wanted you to pay attention to him. He needed it.

One fine afternoon the vision of Sunfyre finally appeared in the bright blue of the sky, with you watching from the huge window of your room. He looked majestic, flying deftly and confidently with the rider above him grinning from ear to ear. Aegon had once confessed to you that he loved to fly on his dragon and he spoke about it with a devotion that completely touched you.

You thought about going to look for him, grateful that he had returned, but you were afraid that your presence would bother him or, in that case, that there would be murmurs about you. You didn't want to seem like a desperate wife so you thought it would be best to look for him at dinner time and in case he wanted to see you before, you stayed in your room all afternoon.

Once night fell, you put on one of your prettiest dresses and went to the royal dining room hoping to find him there, but it was in vain. Luckily one of the cooks had seen him and he told you that he was in his room, since he had ordered that something to eat and drink be brought there.

Determined, you made your way there and took a moment before entering. You hoped that the time away from King's landing had not hardened your lover's character, because it would be a shame to waste what you had built for some time and have to start over, or not do it at all, which would be even worse. Since there were no guards at the door, you were able to push the wood without any hindrance and then you saw it.

Aegon was sitting near the fireplace, his back to the entrance and leaning against a table that had a jug that you assumed was full (or not so full anymore) of wine. When he heard your footsteps he turned slightly and when he saw you, he kept a serene expression on his face.

“Hey,” he exclaimed quietly.

“The maids informed me that you were here” you explained and he nodded.

You noticed that he no longer wore his black doublet with the Targaryen emblem, he only kept the breeches of the same color and a mint-colored linen shirt that left part of his chest exposed. His white hair had some natural curls that fell delicately over her shoulders.

“Yeah. I don't feel like seeing my parents.”

“I understand” you assumed that if he hadn't wanted to see you he wouldn't have hesitated to tell you, so you approached him. Undecided whether you should greet him with a kiss or just stay to the side, you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned a little to look at him “How was the trip?”

“It was good,” he responded with reluctance. “But my body feels completely crushed”

“Hm. It shows” you whispered, amused. The tension in his body was palpable and that's why you began to massage him, pressing hard just where he needed it. Aegon, feeling your skilled hands doing this, let out a satisfied grunt and leaned his head back with his eyes closed.

Doing that wasn’t something you had planned when you went there, it had only happened out of the heat of the moment and the reality that your husband's body was taking its toll on him for the hours he had spent riding his dragon.

With each passing second Aegon's burden felt lighter and lighter, wondering where you had learned those movements and how your hands were strong enough to exert the right pressure.

"Feel better?" you asked kindly and he nodded immediately, eyes still closed.

Suddenly one of your hands slid lower, towards his chest, to caress him. This time your fingers were light as feathers, sending an electrical current up and down the man's spine under your touch. No whore had ever touched him like that, with that force and at the same time so delicately.

But it was clear that you were not a whore. You were his wife.

“Come here,” he said firmly, reaching out to wrap his hand around your wrist and pulling you directly into his lap.

It was extremely painful to admit that he had missed you. He was physically frustrated because he hadn't dared to take any other woman in your absence. It had been a long time since he had frequented pleasure houses, since his appetite was awakened only by being with you.

What the hell had you done to him?

“The cook told me that you ordered some food, but I only see wine around here. Have you already eaten anything?”

“Mhmm,” he said absently. Your legs dangled to the side and one of his hands came up to your face, brushing your loose hair away from it. The other one surrounded you until it planted itself firmly on your belly. “Still no signs of anything?”

“Honestly, I don't know. The maesters can’t say with certainty… I am sorry”

“What if you are sterile?” the mere possibility of it made you nervous and you wondered what your fate would be if that was the case. Aegon didn't look so worried “What a disappointment for Alicent.”

You didn't know how to take that, because on the one hand it could be that your husband was amused by the irony of the matter and on the other hand it was that he would never have wanted to have children with you. For a moment you thought that the tranquility of the environment had been fragmented by this, but it turned out that the man couldn't care less. He was completely focused on your lips, almost as if hypnotized.

“I trust that is not the case, your grace. Just… it was a streak of bad luck.”

“I guess so,” he murmured nonchalantly. He was still watching your mouth when you spoke “But now I don’t care much about that.”

He carefully grabbed you by the back of your neck and brought you closer to shorten the distance, giving you an eager kiss that took your breath away. The hand that was on your waist pulled you closer to his body, leaving practically no separation between you and him. You could feel the desperation on his lips and in his touch, like he was eager to make you his. And at the same time, he was kissing you like he had never done before: it was sweet, yearning, passionate. You felt like he really wanted you.

He separated from you so you could breathe and, as best he could, he maneuvered to lift your body until he placed you on the table, where it was easier for him to place himself in the space between your legs. You instinctively placed your hands around his neck and wrapped one of your legs around his body.

“I longed for you. These weeks” you finally confessed. You heard him, and felt him, breathe more erratically at this because your words had fallen on him with the force of an axe.

From there, Aegon acted solely driven by the feeling of knowing that you had wanted to see him as much as he had wanted to see you.

His entire body leaned over you to kiss you, with the same urgency as at the beginning. While he did that he grabbed you by the lower back, pulling you until your body collided with his crotch which, if it wasn't already hard, wouldn't take long.

His kisses were clumsy due to urgency and after a while he moved away from your mouth to descend to your neck. Sometimes he left a kiss or two, at most, but this time he seemed to want to take his time. His tongue ran all over your skin, freshly washed, and he spread caresses without restraint. Every place the dragon's lips touched lit up with fire and his hips grinding against you weren't doing much for the blush on your cheeks. Inevitably you began to sigh from so many stimuli, right at the level of his ear, which only motivated him to continue.

As best he could he pulled the laces on the back of your dress and it didn't take long to get rid of the restraints. He slid one of your sleeves over your shoulder to begin kissing that section, the same way he had done with your neck. An indiscreet moan escaped you as your husband bit into your soft flesh and you could feel him smile against your skin.

“You're mine, right?” he sighed brokenly. You had tilted your head back to give him more space and he took the opportunity to lower the entire torso of your dress. “Only mine…”

With the same devotion he took care of your breasts and you couldn't do anything but continue alternating between sighs and some muffled moans. You could feel how he longed for you, eager to be able to kiss every inch of your skin even if it took him the entire night. Suddenly your body had become a temple, an object worthy of worship. The prince continued to distribute kisses that each time descended towards your belly, until with one hand he violently threw everything that was on the table and you ended up lying completely on it. Then he walked away.

You were about to ask what had happened when he took care of taking off your ballerina flats and throwing them somewhere far away in the room, only to stretch your leg up to the height of his torso to start kissing it. No one, not even him, had ever done that to you, so it was natural for you to be dismayed. His kisses moved quickly up your thigh and once he did that, he dropped to his knees in front of you. The skirt of your dress blocked your view and when you tried to get up something made you scream. Aegon had bitten into the tender flesh of your thighs, quite close to your crotch and with more force than he had hit your shoulder. You could only imagine his face when he carefully licked the mark he had surely left on you, once again making your chest exhale a moan.

What he did next and the sensation it caused, you could never have even imagined. That mouth, which most of the time was used for ironic puns and sloppy kisses, was now taking expert care of all of your pussy. Aegon was devouring you completely, touching just where it was necessary to make you squirm on the table. He wasn't careful at all; it was a touch hungry and extremely dirty.

You wanted to hold on as much as you could to keep yourself attached to reality, but it was difficult with your husband eating you like that. One of his arms wrapped around your leg and placed it over his shoulder, probably to give him better access. You had never moaned like that in his presence and it only made him harder and harder beneath the tight fabric of his breeches.

The pleasure was barely getting to your head when he stopped and a dissatisfied grunt escaped you shamelessly. Aegon laughed unabashedly at this, pleased at the control he had gained over you, and then went up again to kiss you hungrily. You couldn't do anything but welcome his salty lips and you moaned against him as he leaned against your body and you could feel his crotch, not knowing if it was your own wetness or his that was present.

He held you from behind and, without stopping kissing you, carried you until he placed you on the bed. You considered it somewhat unfair that your husband already had you trembling beneath him and still hadn't taken off a single piece of clothing, but your complaints were silenced when he hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head and took off his breeches in record time. In the same way, he pulled your dress towards your legs so that a second later it ended up on the floor, along with everything else.

He knelt down on the mattress and spread your legs roughly, lining himself up with your entrance. He began to rub the tip of his member up and down your already wet center and that did nothing but drive you crazy again.

When a delicate, pleading, «please» escaped your swollen lips, Aegon knew it was more stimulating to have you begging for him than to worry about only satisfying himself.

He played with you for a while longer, smiling from ear to ear at the sight of his delicate, pretty wife vibrating from having him close, until he finally plunged into you. For the first time there was enough wetness in you that the stroke felt satisfying rather than painful and both of you let out a delicious moan.

He set the pace, slow at first, but after a while his movements became more desperate. He wanted to get to the core of you, he wanted to fill you completely so you knew that only he could make you feel that way. When his body began to ache he leaned towards you, resting each of his arms on the side of your head and looking directly at you. You had stopped looking away from him, now you were looking at him with your mouth open with pleasure, your eyes watery and your pupils dilated on your completely flushed cheeks.

“Aegon,” you sobbed pathetically, clouded by everything you were experiencing and proving that it wasn't long before you reached your orgasm.

You had never called him by his name. You always referred to him as «your grace», «prince» or «husband», at best. So hearing his name come out of your lips like that, under those circumstances, was too much for him to bear.

Knowing that he couldn't last much longer, one of his hands moved down to rest his thumb on your clit and once there he began to make erratic circles. You closed your eyes, completely seized by pleasure and a couple more thrusts were enough to make you lose the battle. Hearing your whimpers, combined with the way your walls squeezed him, was enough to make him cum too. With trembling legs you felt the warm liquid filling you and, for the first time, it was comforting.

When Aegon plopped down next to you, you immediately missed his body warmth. Both of you were breathing heavily, trying to catch the breath that the orgasm had taken from you. You could clearly feel your heartbeat bouncing off your bare chest and the stinging sensation coming from your crotch and running through your entire body was something you could get used to. Your hair had stuck to your face from the sweat and not to mention your lips, which you felt were burning from your husband's attention.

Aegon had already had many orgasms in his life so this time he decided to turn his gaze a little to see you enjoying yours. The mere idea that he was responsible for your condition made him completely shake.

“You look beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. You thought he had heard wrong because of the rush, but from the way he was smiling at you, you highly doubted it. “Just like that”

“Like what?”

“Freshly fucked. Well fucked” he corrected himself.

A laugh bubbled up from within you and you blushed even more, if that was possible, perhaps from the nerves and elation of what had just happened. The man stood up a little from his seat and leaned down to kiss you, although this time he did it with a calm and affection that you never thought you would see in him. It was just that he couldn't deny it anymore; from that moment on he would become an open book for you, where you could see all his feelings, desires and fears.

“I don't know why you're doing this,” you suddenly murmured and Aegon pulled away enough to look at you “And I don't know why you've been acting like this these past few months. But I like it. I think it's a good time for you to know."

“You said I could choose who I am,” he said meekly. One of his hands grabbed your chin and stole another fleeting kiss from you. “I haven't forgotten, every word is present in my head. It's just... sometimes it's hard. And I thought I would have a better chance with you, even with the things I did to you when we got married”

You smiled at him and were happy to know that the change in his behavior was because of the talk you once had with him. If he continued like this, ignoring the demons inside him and trying to be better, then your marriage had a chance to become more than just a condemnation.

Driven by the pleasant feeling growing in your chest you reached out towards him to reward him with a kiss. The man's breath hitched when you pushed him to the side and reversed roles, now you being the one pampering him while he was lying down. There was a playful glint in your husband's eyes as you looked at him.

“Do you know this is the first time you kissed me?” he exhaled softly.

You couldn't believe that was possible and for a few seconds you tried to remember so you could contradict him. But every time you remembered you realized that it was always him who initiated the contact to which you only responded, so, effectively, it was the first kiss you gave him out of conviction.

Maybe it was an omen that something good was coming.

Still happy with how everything had turned out, you snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest while he hugged you and threw a sheet over your bodies. You planted a hand on his bare skin and began drumming your fingers, alternating with small circles made with the greatest delicacy.

You were silent for a long time, you even thought that your husband had fallen asleep until you heard him speak again:

“It's also the first time I'm doing this.”

“Are you talking about sex, your grace?”

“No, I'm talking about cuddling,” he confessed softly, his hand caressing your back the same way you did with him, “And don't call me your majesty anymore. I am Aegon. Or my prince, at any rate. But my is important”

With the affection worthy of a wife, you raised your head to place a kiss on his cheek and assured him that from now on you would call him that in the privacy of your chambers.

Suddenly, after another moment of silence, Aegon pulled you close to him as if afraid you were going to suddenly evaporate. Intending to calm his fears, you climbed until you were on top of his body, hiding your head in his neck so that the distance became minimal.

There was silence for another couple of minutes.

“Do you think I can ever be forgiven?”

Apparently the atmosphere of the moment had managed to soften the boy's heart.

“We can all be absolved, Aegon.”

"And you?"

"Me what?"

“Do you think you can ever love me?” you were quiet for a second, thinking about your response. Then, he added “Or could you at least try? It would be a nice detail for me. No one has ever done it before.”

Not wanting to ruin the mood with a false word you decided to kiss his neck gently and that was enough of an answer for him. He would have to trust in your goodwill and that he could continue to restrain his impulses to keep this newly discovered gem that was his wife. With some luck you could even be that person he prayed for so much all his life, one with whom he could feel safe.

The slowing of the man's breathing revealed to you that he had already fallen asleep and you discovered that it seemed not so bad to find yourself in that position, sheltered by your lover's arms.

Under that scenario, the idea of eventually loving Prince Aegon Targaryen no longer sounded so far-fetched.

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